Suddenly the track levelled off on a straightaway. Heydrick peered ahead. Heaven alone knew where the tunnel led or how far the tracks were good. The car was going like a runaway rocket.
Then they were out in the open, in daylight. The tracks came out of a tunnel-mouth on the banks of the dry canal.
The hurtling ore-car was half way across the bridge before Heydrick knew they were heading for the city.
Out of the tunnel-mouth across the canal shot the other ore-car. Both cars raced toward the city.
Ten miles. Five. Three. One.
Weird lights flickered on the tremendous dome ahead, as if some infernal carnival was being held within the city.
Up a steep ramp to the airlock shot the cars. Seconds now. The airlock was closed.
A gate of metal and plastic loomed close. Glass, plastic, metal and quartz vanished in a thunderous melee of sound. The first lock. The city's automatic wall-magnets clawed at the racing car. It slowed rapidly. The deceleration pinned both of them flat against the front wall of the car. It went through the second gate like a knife through dough. The jar was agony.
The car rolled up to a dock and stopped.
Heydrick was out of the car and racing for a visiphone as a wobbling wheel came loose and romped down the track, smashing sheds to metal splinters.