The Ethical Engineer (15 page)

In the confusion the fleeing slaves were not noticed, and Jason led
them around the guard post on the walls and directly towards the
worksite. They were spotted as they crossed the empty ground and after
some hesitation the guard ran in pursuit. Jason was leading the enemy
directly to his precious steam-wagon, but he had no choice. The thing
was certainly making its presence known in any case, and unless he
reached it at once the head of steam would be gone and they would be
trapped. He leaped the still recumbent guard at the entrance and ran
towards his machine. Snarbi was cowering behind one wheel but there
was no time to give him any attention. As Jason jumped onto the
platform the safety valve closed and the sudden stillness was
frightening. The steam was gone.

With frantic grabs he spun valves and shot one glance at the
indicator: there wasn't enough steam left to roll the meters. Water
gurgled and the boiler hissed and clacked at him while screams of
anger came from the D'zertanoj as they ran into the enclosure and saw
the bootleg
caroj
. Jason thrust the end of a molotail into the
firebox; it caught fire and he turned and hurled it at them. The angry
cries turned into screams of fear as the tongues of flame licked up at
the pursuers and they retreated in disorder. Jason ran after them and
hastened their departure with another molotail. They seemed to be
retreating as far as the refinery walls, but he could not be sure in
the darkness if some of them weren't creeping around to the sides.

He hurried back to the
caroj
, tapped on the still-unmoving pressure
indicator and opened the fuel feed wide. As an afterthought he wired
down the safety valve since his reinforced boiler should hold more
pressure than the valve had been originally adjusted for. Once this
was finished he chewed at his oily fingernails since there was nothing
else that could be done until the pressure built up again. The
D'zertanoj would rally, someone would take charge, and they would
attack the worksite. If they had enough steam before this happened,
they would escape. If not—

"Mikah, and you, too, you cowering slob Snarbi you, get behind this
thing and push," Jason said.

"What has happened," Mikah asked. "Have you started this revolution?
If so I will give no aid...."

"We're escaping, if that's all right with you. Just I, Ijale and a
guide to show us the way. You don't have to come—"

"I will join you. There is nothing criminal in escaping from these
barbarians."

"Very nice of you to say so. Now push. I want this steamobile in the
center, far from all the walls, and pointing towards the desert. Down
the valley I guess, is that right, Snarbi?"

"Down the valley, sure, that's the way." His voice was still rasping
from the earlier throttling, Jason was pleased to notice.

"Stop it here and everyone aboard. Grab onto those bars I've bolted
along the sides so you won't get bounced off, if we ever start moving
that is."

Jason took a quick look through his workshop to make sure everything
they might need was already loaded, then reluctantly climbed aboard
himself. He blew out the lantern and they sat there in the darkness,
their faces lit from below by the flickering glow from the firebox,
while the tension mounted. There was no way to measure time since each
second took an eternity to drag by.

The walls of the worksite cut off any view of the outside and within a
few moments imagination had peopled the night with silent hordes
creeping towards them, huddling about the thin barrier of leather,
ready to swoop down and crush them in an instant.

"Let's run for it," Snarbi gurgled and tried to jump from the
platform. "We're trapped here, we'll never get away...."

Jason tripped him and knocked him flat, then pounded his head against
the floor planks a few times until he quieted.

"I can sympathize with that poor man," Mikah said severely. "You are a
brute, Jason, to punish him for his natural feelings. Cease your
sadistic attack and join me in a prayer."

"If this poor man you are so sorry for had simply done his duty and
watched the boiler, we would all be safely away from here by now. And
if you have enough breath for a prayer, put it to better use by
blowing into the firebox. It's not going to be wishes or prayers that
gets us out of here, just a head of steam."

A howled battlecry was echoed by massed voices and a squad of
D'zertanoj burst in through the entrance, and at the same instant the
rear of the leather wall went down and more armed men swarmed over it.
The immobile
caroj
was trapped between the two groups of attackers
who laughed happily as they charged. Jason cursed and lit four
molotails at the same time and hurled them two and two in opposite
directions. Before they hit he had jumped to the steam valve and wound
it open; with a hissing clank the
caroj
shuddered and got underway.

For the moment the attackers were held back by the walls of flame and
screamed even louder as the machine moved away at right angles from
between their two groups. The air whistled with crossbow bolts, but
most were badly aimed and only a few thudded into the baggage. With
each revolution of the wheels their speed picked up and when they hit
the walls the hides parted with a creaking snap. Strips of leather
whipped at them, then they were through.

The shouts and the fires grew dimmer behind them as they streaked down
the valley at a suicidal pace, hissing, rattling and crashing over the
bumps. Jason clung to the tiller and shouted for Mikah to come relieve
him, since if he let go of the thing they would turn and crash in an
instant, and as long as he held it he couldn't cut down the steam.
Some of this finally penetrated to Mikah because he crawled forward
grasping desperately to every hand-hold until he crouched beside
Jason.

"Grab this tiller and hold it straight and steer around anything big
enough to see."

As soon as the steering was taken over Jason worked his way back to
the engine and throttled down; they slowed to a clanking walk then
stopped completely. Ijale moaned and Jason felt as if every inch of
his body had been beaten with hammers. There was no sign of pursuit
since it would be at least an hour before they could raise steam in
the
caroj
and no one on foot could have possibly matched their
headlong pace. The lantern he had used earlier had vanished during the
wild ride so Jason dug out another one of his own construction.

"On your feet, Snarbi," he ordered. "I've cracked us all out of
slavery so now it is time for you to do some of the guiding that you
were telling me about. Walk ahead with this light and pick out a nice
smooth track going in the right direction. I never did have a chance
to build headlights for this machine so you will have to do instead."

Snarbi climbed down unsteadily and walked out in front. Jason opened
the valve a bit and they clattered forward on his trail as Mikah
turned the tiller to follow. Ijale crawled over and settled herself
against Jason's side, shivering with cold and fright. He patted her
shoulder.

"Relax," he said, "from now on this is just a pleasure trip."

They were six days out of Putl'ko and their supplies were almost
exhausted. The country, once they were away from the mountains, became
more fertile, an undulating pampas of grass with enough streams and
herds of beasts to assure that they did not starve. It was fuel that
mattered, and that afternoon Jason had opened their last jar. They
stopped a few hours before dark since their fresh meat was gone, and
Snarbi took the crossbow and went out to shoot something for the pot.
Since he was the only one who could handle the clumsy weapon with any
kind of skill in spite of his ocular deficiencies, and who knew about
the local game, this task had been assigned to him. With longer
contact his fear of the
caroj
had lessened, and his self-esteem rose
at his recognized ability as a hunter. He strolled arrogantly out into
the knee-high grass, crossbow over his shoulder, whistling tunelessly
through his teeth. Jason stared after him and once again felt a
growing unease.

"I don't trust that wall-eyed mercenary, I don't trust him for one
second," he muttered.

"Were you talking to me?" Mikah asked.

"I wasn't but I might as well now. Have you noticed anything
interesting about the country we have been passing through, anything
different?"

"Nothing. It is a wilderness, untouched by the hand of man."

"Then you must be blind, because I have been seeing things the last
two days, and I know just as little about woodcraft as you do. Ijale,"
he called, and she looked up from the boiler over which she was
heating a thin stew of their last
krenoj
. "Leave that stuff, it
tastes just as bad whatever is done to it, and if Snarbi has any luck
we'll be having roast in any case. Tell me, have you seen anything
strange or different about the land we passed through today."

"Nothing strange, just signs of people. Twice we passed places where
the grass was flat and branches broken as if a
caroj
passed two or
three days ago, maybe more. And once there was a place where someone
had built a cooking fire, but that was very old."

"Nothing to be seen, Mikah?" Jason asked with raised eyebrows. "See
what a lifetime of
krenoj
hunting can do for the sense of
observation and terrain."

"I am no savage. You cannot expect me to look out for that sort of
thing."

"I don't. I have learned to expect very little from you beside
trouble. Only now I am going to need your help. This is Snarbi's last
night of freedom whether he knows it or not, and I don't want him
standing guard tonight, so you and I will split the shift."

Mikah was astonished. "I do not understand. What do you mean this is
his last night of freedom?"

"It should be obvious by now—even to you—after seeing how the social
ethic works on this planet. What did you think we were going to do
when we came to Appsala—follow Snarbi like sheep to the slaughter? I
have no idea what he is planning. I just know he must be planning
something. When I ask him about the city he only answers in
generalities. Of course he is a hired mercenary who wouldn't know too
much of the details, but he must know a lot more than he is telling
us. He says we are still four days away from the city. My guess is
that we are no more than one or two. In the morning I intend to grab
him and tie him up, then swing over to those hills there and find a
place to hole up. I'll fix some chains for Snarbi so he can't get
away, then I'll do a scout of the city...."

"You are going to chain this poor man, make a slave of him for no
reason!"

"I'm not going to make a slave of him, just chain him to make sure he
doesn't lead us into some trap that will benefit him. This souped-up
caroj
is valuable enough to tempt any of the locals, and if he can
sell me as an engine-mechanic slave his fortune is made."

"I will not hear this!" Mikah stormed. "You condemn the man on no
evidence at all, just because of your nasty minded suspicions. Judge
not lest ye be judged yourself! And you play the hypocrite as well,
because I well remember your telling me that a man is innocent until
proven guilty."

"Well this man is guilty, if you want to put it that way, guilty of
being a member of this broken down society, which means that he will
always act in certain ways at certain times. Haven't you learned
anything about these people yet? Ijale!" She looked up from contented
munching on a
krenoj
, obviously not listening to the argument. "Tell
me, what is your opinion? We are coming soon to a place where Snarbi
has friends, or people who will help him. What do you think he will
do?"

"Say hello to the people he knows? Maybe they will give him a
krenoj
." She smiled in satisfaction at her answer and took another
bite.

"That's not quite what I had in mind," Jason said patiently. "What if
we three are with him when we come to the people, and the people see
us and the
caroj
...."

She sat up, alarmed. "We can't go with him! If he has people there
they will fight us, make us slaves, take the
caroj
. You must kill
Snarbi at once."

"Bloodthirsty heathen...." Mikah began in his best denunciatory voice,
but quit when he saw Jason pick up a heavy hammer.

"Do you understand yet?" Jason asked. "By tying up Snarbi I'm only
conforming to a local code of ethic, like saluting in the army or not
eating with your fingers in polite society. In fact I'm being a little
slipshod, since by local custom I should kill him before he can make
us trouble."

"It cannot be, I cannot believe it. You cannot judge and condemn a man
upon such flimsy evidence."

"I'm not condemning him," Jason said with growing irritation, "Just
making sure that he can't cause me any trouble. You don't have to
agree with me to help me, just don't get in my way. And split the
guard with me tonight. Whatever I do in the morning will be on my
shoulders and no concern of yours."

"He is returning," Ijale hissed, and a moment later Snarbi came up
through the high grass.

"Got a
cervo
," he announced proudly, and dropped the animal down
before them. "Cut him up, makes good chops and roast. We eat tonight."

He was completely innocent and without guile and the only thing guilty
about him was his shifty gaze which could be blamed completely on his
crossed eyes. Jason wondered for a second if his assessment of the
danger was correct, then remembered where he was and lost his doubts.
Snarbi would be committing no crime if he tried to kill or enslave
them, just doing what any ordinary, decent slave-holding barbarian
would do in his place. Jason searched through his tool box for some
rivets that could be used to fasten the leg irons on the man.