Текст книги "The Ethical Engineer"

Автор книги: Harry Harrison

сообщить о нарушении

Текущая страница: 2 (всего у книги 8 страниц)

“Well….”

“Come, come – you have to agree on the terms of your own definition. The ethos of a group is just a catch-all term for the ways in which the members of a group rub against each other. Right?”

Mikah reluctantly produced a nod of acquiescence.

“Now that we agree about that we can push on one step further. Ethics, again by your definition, must deal with any number of societies or groups. If there are any absolute laws of ethics, they must be so inclusive that they can be applied to any society. A law of ethics must be as universal of application as is the law of gravity.”

“I don’t follow you…?”

“I didn’t think you would when I got to this point. You people who prattle about your Universal Laws never really consider the exact meaning of the term. My knowledge of the history of science is very vague, but I’m willing to bet that the first Law of Gravity ever dreamed up stated that things fell at such and such a speed, and accelerated at such and such a rate. That’s not a law, but an observation that isn’t even complete until you add ‘on this planet.’ On a planet with a different mass there will be a different observation. The law of gravity is the formula

       mM

F = –

        d²

and this can be used to compute the force of gravity between any two bodies anywhere. This is a way of expressing fundamental and unalterable principles that apply in all circumstances. If you are going to have any real ethical laws they will have to have this same universality. They will have to work on Cassylia or Pyrrus, or on any planet or in any society you can find. Which brings us back to you. What you so grandly call – with capital letters and a flourish of trumpets – ’Laws of Ethics’ aren’t laws at all, but are simple little chunks of tribal ethos, aboriginal observations made by a gang of desert sheepherders to keep order in the house – or tent. These rules aren’t capable of any universal application, even you must see that. Just think of the different planets that you have been on and the number of weird and wonderful ways people have of reacting to each other – then try and visualize ten rules of conduct that would be applicable in all these societies. An impossible task. Yet I’ll bet that you have ten rules you want me to obey, and if one of them is wasted on an injunction against saying prayers to carved idols I can imagine just how universal the other nine are. You aren’t being ethical if you try to apply them wherever you go – you’re just finding a particularly fancy way to commit suicide!”

“You are being insulting!”

“I hope so. If I can’t reach you in any other way, perhaps insult will jar you out of your state of moral smugness. How dare you even consider having me tried for stealing money from the Cassylia casino when all I was doing was conforming to their own code of ethics! They run crooked gambling games, so the law under their local ethos must be that crooked gambling is the norm. So I cheated them, conforming to their norm. If they have also passed a law that says cheating at gambling is illegal, the law is unethical, not the cheating. If you are bringing me back to be tried by that law you are unethical, and I am the helpless victim of an evil man.”

“Limb of Satan!” Mikah shouted, leaping to his feet and pacing back and forth before Jason, clasping and unclasping his hands with agitation. “You seek to confuse me with your semantics and so-called ethics that are simply opportunism and greed. There is a Higher Law that cannot be argued – ”

“That is an impossible statement – and I can prove it.” Jason pointed at the books on the wall. “I can prove it with your own books, some of that light reading on the shelf there. Not the Aquinas – too thick. But the little volume with Lull on the spine. Is that Ramon Lull’s ‘The Booke of the Ordre of Chyualry’?”

Mikah’s eyes widened. “You know the book? You’re acquainted with Lull’s writing?”

“Of course,” Jason said, with an offhandedness he did not feel, since this was the only book in the collection he could remember reading, the odd title had stuck in his head. “Now let me see it and I shall prove to you what I mean.” There was no way to tell from the unchanged naturalness of his words that this was the moment he had been working carefully towards. He sipped the tea. None of his tenseness showing.

***

Mikah Samon got the book and handed it to him.

Jason flipped through the pages while he talked. “Yes… yes, this is perfect. An almost ideal example of your kind of thinking. Do you like to read Lull?”

“Inspirational!” Mikah answered, his eyes shining. “There is beauty in every line and Truths that we have forgotten in the rush of modern life. A reconciliation and proof of the interrelationship between the Mystical and the Concrete. By manipulation of symbols he explains everything by absolute logic.”

“He proves nothing about nothing,” Jason said emphatically. “He plays word games. He takes a word, gives it an abstract and unreal value, then proves this value by relating it to other words with the same sort of nebulous antecedents. His facts aren’t facts – just meaningless sounds. This is the key point, where your universe and mine differ. You live in this world of meaningless facts that have no existence. My world contains facts that can be weighed, tested, proven related to other facts in a logical manner. My facts are unshakeable and unarguable. They exist.”

“Show me one of your unshakeable facts,” Mikah said, his voice calmer now than Jason’s.

“Over there,” Jason said. “The large green book over the console. It contains facts that even you will agree are true – I’ll eat every page if you don’t. Hand it to me.” He sounded angry, making overly bold statements and Mikah fell right into the trap. He handed the volume to Jason, using both hands since it was very thick, metal bound and heavy.

“Now listen closely and try and understand, even if it is difficult for you,” Jason said, opening the book. Mikah smiled wryly at this assumption of his ignorance. “This is a stellar ephemeris, just as packed with facts as an egg is with meat. In some ways it is a history of mankind. Now look at the jump screen there on the control console and you will see what I mean. Do you see the horizontal green line? Well, that’s our course.”

“Since this is my ship and I’m flying it I’m aware of that,” Mikah said. “Get on with your proof.”

“Bear with me,” Jason told him. “I’ll try and keep it simple. Now the red dot on the green line is our ship’s position. The number above the screen our next navigational point, the spot where a star’s gravitational field it strong enough to be detected in jump space. The number is the star’s code listing. DB89-046-229. I’ll look it up in the book” – he quickly flipped the pages – ”and find its listing. No name. A row of code symbols though that tell a lot about it. This little symbol means that there is a planet or planets suitable for man to live on. Doesn’t say if any people are there though.”

“Where does this all lead to?” Mikah interrupted.

“Patience – you’ll see in a moment. Now look, at the screen. The green dot approaching on the course line is the PMP. Point of Maximum Proximity. When the red dot and green dot coincide….”

“Give me that book,” Mikah ordered, stepping forward. Aware suddenly that something was wrong. He was just an instant too late.

“Here’s your proof,” Jason said, and hurled the heavy book through the jump screen into the delicate circuits behind. Before it hit he had thrown the second book. There was a tinkling crash, a flare of light and the crackle of shorted circuits.

The floor gave a tremendous heave as the relays snapped open, dropping the ship through into normal space.

Mikah grunted in pain, clubbed to the floor by the suddenness of the transition. Locked into the chair, Jason fought the heaving of his stomach and the blackness before his eyes. As Mikah dragged himself to his feet, Jason took careful aim and sent the tray and dishes hurtling into the smoking ruin of the jump computer.

“There’s your fact,” he said in cheerful triumph. “Your incontrovertible, gold-plated, uranium-cored fact.

“We’re not going to Cassylia any more!”

III

“You’ve killed us both,” Mikah said with his face strained and white but his voice under control.

“Not quite,” Jason told him cheerily. “But I have killed the jump control so we can’t get to another star. However there’s nothing wrong with our space drive, so we can make a landing on one of the planets – you saw for yourself that there is at least one suitable for habitation.”

“Where I will fix the jump drive and continue the voyage to Cassylia. You will have gained nothing.”

“Perhaps,” Jason answered in his most noncommittal voice, since he did not have the slightest intention of continuing the trip, no matter what Mikah Samon thought.

His captor had reached the same conclusion. “Put your hand back on the chair arm,” he ordered, and locked the cuff into place again. He stumbled as the drive started and the ship changed direction. “What was that?” he asked.

“Emergency control. The ship’s computer knows that something drastic is wrong, so it has taken over. You can override it with the manuals, but don’t bother yet. The ship can do a better job than either of us with its senses and stored data. It will find the planet we’re looking for, plot a course and get us there with the most economy of time and fuel. When we get into the atmosphere you can take over and look for a spot to set down.”

“I don’t believe a word you say now,” Mikah said grimly. “I’m going to take control and get a call out on the emergency band. Someone will hear it.” As he started forward the ship lurched again and all the lights went out. In the darkness flames could be seen flickering inside the controls. There was a hiss of foam and they vanished. With a weak flicker the emergency lighting circuit came on.

“Shouldn’t have thrown the Ramon Lull book,” Jason said. “The ship can’t stomach it any more than I could.”

“You are irreverent and profane,” Mikah said through his clenched teeth, as he went to the controls. “You attempt to kill us both. You have no respect for your own life or mine. You’re a man who deserves the worst punishment the law allows.”

“I’m a gambler,” Jason laughed. “Not at all as bad as you say. I take chances – but I only take them when the odds are right. You were carrying me back to certain death. The worst my wrecking the controls can do is administer the same end. So I took a chance. There is a bigger risk factor for you of course, but I’m afraid I didn’t take that into consideration. After all, this entire affair is your idea. You’ll just have to take the consequences of your own actions and not scold me for them.”

“You’re perfectly right,” Mikah said quietly. “I should have been more alert. Now will you tell me what to do to save both our lives. None of the controls work.”

“None! Did you try the emergency override? The big red switch under the safety housing.”

“I did. It is dead, too.”

Jason slumped back into the seat. It was a moment before he could speak. “Read one of your books, Mikah,” he said at last. “Seek consolation in your philosophy. There’s nothing we can do. It’s all up to the computer now, and whatever is left of the circuits.”

“Can’t we help – repair anything?”

“Are you a ship technician? I’m not. We would probably do more harm than good.”

***

It took two ship-days of very erratic flight to reach the planet. A haze of clouds obscured the atmosphere. They approached from the night side and no details were visible. Or lights.

“If there were cities we should see their lights – shouldn’t we?” Mikah asked.

“Not necessarily. Could be storms. Could be enclosed cities. Could be only ocean in this hemisphere.”

“Or it could be that there are no people down there. Even if the ship should get us down safely – what will it matter? We will be trapped for the rest of our lives on this lost planet at the end of the universe.”

“Don’t be so cheerful,” Jason interrupted. “How about taking off these cuffs while we go down. It will probably be a rough landing and I’d like to have some kind of a chance.”

Mikah frowned at him. “Will you give me your word of honor that you won’t try to escape during the landing?”

“No. And if I gave it – would you believe it? If you let me go, you take your chances. Let neither of us think it will be any different.”

“I have my duty to do,” Mikah said. Jason remained locked in the chair.

They were in the atmosphere, the gentle sighing against the hull quickly climbed the scale to a shrill scream. The drive cut out and they were in free fall. Air friction heated the outer hull white-hot and the interior temperature quickly rose in spite of the cooling unit.

“What’s happening?” Mikah asked. “You seem to know more about this. Are we through – going to crash?”

“Maybe. Could be only one of two things. Either the whole works has folded up – in which case we are going to be scattered in very small pieces all over the landscape, or the computer is saving itself for one last effort. I hope that’s it. They build computers smart these days, all sort of problem-solving circuits. The hull and engines are in good shape – but the controls spotty and unreliable. In a case like this a good human pilot would let the ship drop as far and fast as it could before switching on the drive. Then turn it on full – thirteen gees or more, whatever he figured the passengers could take on the couches. The hull would take a beating, but who cares. The control circuits would be used the shortest amount of time in the simplest manner.”

“Do you think that’s what is happening?” Mikah asked, getting into his acceleration chair.

“That’s what I hope is happening. Going to unlock the cuffs before you go to bed? It could be a bad landing and we might want to go places in a hurry.”

Mikah considered, then took out his gun. “I’ll unlock you, but I intend to shoot if you try anything. Once we are down you will be locked in again.”

“Thanks for small blessings,” Jason said, rubbing his wrists.

Deceleration jumped on them, kicked the air from their lungs in uncontrollable gasps, sank them deep into the yielding couches. Mikah’s gun was pressed into his chest, too heavy to lift. It made no difference, Jason could not stand nor move. He hovered on the border of consciousness, his vision flickering behind a black and red haze.

Just as suddenly the pressure was gone.

They were still falling.

The drive groaned in the stern of the ship and relays chattered. But it didn’t start again. The two men stared at each other, unmoving, for the unmeasurable unit of time that the ship fell.

As the ship dropped it turned and hit at an angle. The end came for Jason in an engulfing wave of thunder, shock and pain. Sudden impact pushed him against the restraining straps, burst them with the inertia of his body, hurled him across the control room. His last conscious thought was to protect his head. He was lifting his arm when he struck the wall.

***

There is a cold that is so chilling it is a pain not a temperature. Cold that slices into the flesh before it numbs and kills.

Jason came to with the sound of his own voice crying hoarsely. The cold was so great it filled the universe. Cold water he realized as he coughed it from his mouth and nose. Something was around him and it took an effort to recognize it as Mikah’s arm; he was holding Jason’s face above the surface while he swam. A receding blackness in the water could only have been the ship, giving off bubbles and groans as it died. The cold water didn’t hurt now and Jason was just relaxing when he felt something solid under his feet.

“Stand up and walk, curse you,” Mikah gasped hoarsely. “I can’t… carry you… can’t carry myself….”

They floundered out of the water, side by side, four-legged crawling beasts that could not stand erect. Everything had an unreality to it and Jason found it hard to think. He should not stop, that he was sure of, but what else could he do? There was a flickering in the darkness, a wavering light coming towards them. Jason could say nothing, but he heard Mikah cry out for help.

Nearer came the light, some kind of a flare or torch, held high. Mikah pulled to his feet as the flame approached.

It was a nightmare. It wasn’t a man but a thing that held the flare. A thing of angles, sharp corners, fang-faced and horrible. It had a clubbed extremity it used to strike down Mikah. The tall man fell wordlessly and the creature turned towards Jason. He had no strength to fight with, though he struggled to climb to his feet. His fingers scratched at the frosted sand, but he could not rise, and exhausted with this last effort he fell forward face down. Unconsciousness pulled at his brain but he would not submit. The flickering torchlight came closer and the scuffle of heavy feet in the sand; he could not have this horror behind him. With the last of his strength he levered himself over and lay on his back, staring up at the thing that stood over him, with the darkness of exhaustion filming his eyes.

IV

It did not kill him at once, but stood staring down at him, and as the slow seconds ticked by and Jason was still alive he forced himself to consider this menace that appeared from the blackness.

“K’e vi stas el…?” the creature said, and for the first time Jason realized it was human. The meaning of the question picked at the edge of his exhausted brain, he felt he could almost understand it, though he had never heard the language before. He tried to answer but there was only a hoarse gargle from his throat.

“Ven k’n torcoy – r’pidu!”

More lights sprang from the darkness inland and with them the sound of running feet. As they came closer Jason had a clearer look at the man above him and could understand why he had mistaken him for some inhuman creature. His limbs were completely wrapped in lengths of stained leather, his chest and body protected by thick and overlapping leather plates covered with blood-red designs. Over his head was fitted the cochlea shaped shell of some animal, spiraling to a point in front: two small openings had been drilled in it for eye holes. Great, finger-long teeth had been set in the lower edge of the shell to heighten the already fearsome appearance. The only thing at all human about the creature was the matted and filthy beard that trickled out of the shell below the teeth. There were too many other details for Jason to absorb so suddenly; something bulky slung behind one shoulder, dark objects at the waist, a heavy club reached and prodded Jason in the ribs, but he was too close to unconsciousness to resist.

A guttural command halted the torch-bearers a full five meters from the spot where Jason lay. He wondered vaguely why the armored man had not let them approach closer since the light from their torches barely reached this far: everything on this planet seemed inexplicable. For a few moments Jason must have lost consciousness because when he looked again the torch was stuck in the sand at his side and the armored man had one of Jason’s boots off and was pulling at the other. Jason could only writhe feebly but not prevent the theft, for some reason he could not force his body to follow his will. His sense of time seemed to have altered as well and though every second dragged heavily by events occurred with startling rapidity.

The boots were gone now and the man fumbled at Jason’s clothes, stopping every few seconds to glance up at the row of torch-bearers. The magnetic seals were alien to him, the sharp teeth sewn into the leather over his knuckles dug into Jason’s flesh as he struggled to open the seals or to tear the resistant metalcloth. He was growling with impatience when he accidentally touched the release button on the medikit and it dropped into his hand. The shining gadget seemed to please him, but when one of the sharp needles slipped through his thick hand-coverings and stabbed him he howled with rage, throwing the machine down, and grinding it into a splintered ruin in the sand. The loss of this irreplaceable device goaded Jason into motion, he sat up and was trying to reach the medikit when unconsciousness surged over him.

***

Sometime before dawn the pain in his head drove him reluctantly back to awareness. There were some foul-smelling hides draped over him that retained a little of his body heat. He pulled away the stifling fold that covered his face and stared up at the stars, cold points of light that glittered in the frigid night. The air was a stimulant and he sucked deep gasps of it that burned his throat but seemed to clear his thoughts. For the first time he realized that his disorientation had been caused by that crack on the head he had received when the ship crashed; his exploring fingers found a swollen rawness on his skull. He must have a brain concussion, that would explain his earlier inability to move or think straight. The cold air was numbing his face and he willingly pulled the hairy skin back over his head.

He wondered what had happened to Mikah Samon after the local thug in the horror outfit had bashed him with the club. This was a messy and unexpected end for the man after he had managed to survive the crash of the ship. Jason had no special affection for the under-nourished zealot, but he did owe him a life. Mikah had saved him after the crash, only to be murdered himself by this local assassin. Jason made a mental note to kill the man just as soon as he was physically up to it, at the same time he was a little astonished at his reflexive acceptance of the need for this blood-thirsty atonement of a life for a life. Apparently his long stay on Pyrrus had trodden down his normal dislike for killing except in self-defense and from what he had seen so far of this world the Pyrran training would certainly be most useful. The sky showed gray through a tear in the hide and he pushed it back to look at the dawn.

Mikah Samon lay next to him his head projecting from a covering fur. He hair was matted and caked with dark blood, but he was still breathing.

“Harder to kill than I thought,” Jason grunted as he levered himself painfully up onto one elbow and took a good look at this world where his spaceship sabotage had landed them.

It was a grim desert, lumped with huddled bodies like the aftermath of a battle at world’s-end. A few of them were stumbling to their feet, holding their skins around them, the only signs of life in that immense waste of gritty sand. On one side a ridge of dunes cut off sight of the sea, but he could hear the dull boom of waves on the shore. White frost rimed the ground and the chill wind made his eyes blink and water. On the top of the dunes a remembered figure suddenly appeared, the armored man, doing something with what appeared to be lengths of rope; there was metallic tinkling, suddenly cut off. Mikah Samon groaned and stirred.

“How do you feel,” Jason asked. “Those are two of the finest blood-shot eyeballs I have ever seen.”

“Where am I?”

“Now that is a bright and original question – I didn’t pick you for the type who watched historical spaceopera on the TV. I have no idea where we are – but I can give you a brief synopsis of how we arrived here, if you are up to it.”

“I remember we swam ashore, then something evil came from the darkness, like a demon from hell. We fought….”

“And he bashed in your head, one quick blow and that was about all the fight there was. I had a better look at your demon, though I was in no better condition to fight him than you were. He’s a man dressed in a weird outfit out of an addict’s nightmare and appears to be the boss of this crew of rugged campers. Other than that I have little idea of what is going on – except that he stole my boots and I’m going to get then back if I have to kill him for them.”

“Do not lust after material things,” Mikah intoned seriously. “And do not talk of killing a man for material gain. You are evil, Jason, and…. My boots are gone – and my clothes, too!”

Mikah had thrown back his covering skins and made this startling discovery. “Belial!” he roared. “Asmodeus, Abaddon, Apollyon and Baal-zebub!”

“Very nice,” Jason said admiringly, “you really have been studying up on your demonology. Were you just listing them – or calling on them for aid?”

“Silence, blasphemer! I have been robbed!” He rose to his feet and the wind whistling around his almost-bare body quickly gave his skin a light touch of blue. “I am going to find the evil creature that did this and force him to return what is mine.”

Mikah turned to leave but Jason reached out and grabbed his ankle with a wrestling grip, twisted it and brought the man thudding to the ground. The fall dazed him and Jason pulled the skins back over the raw-boned form.

“We’re even,” Jason said. “You saved my life last night, just now I saved yours. You’re bare-handed and wounded – while the old man of the mountain up there is a walking armory, and anyone with the personality to wear that kind of an outfit will kill you as easily as he picks his teeth. So take it easy and try to avoid trouble. There’s a way out of this mess – there’s a way out of every mess if you look for it – and I’m going to find it. In fact I’m going to take a walk right now and start my research. Agreed?”

A groan was his only answer since Mikah was unconscious again, fresh blood seeping from his injured scalp. Jason stood and wrapped his hides about his body as some protection from the wind, tying the loose ends together. Then he kicked through the sand until he found a smooth rock that would fit inside his fist with just the end protruding, and thus armed made his way out through the stirring forms of the sleepers.

***

Mikah was conscious again when Jason returned, and the sun was well above the horizon. The people were all awake now, a shuffling, scratching herd of about thirty men, women and children. They were identical in their filth and crude skin wrappings, milling about with a random motion or sitting blankly on the ground. They showed no interest at all in the two strangers. Jason handed a tarred leather cup to Mikah and squatted next to him.

“Drink that. It’s water, the only thing that anyone here had to drink. I didn’t find any food.” He still had the stone in his hand and while he talked he rubbed it on the sand: the end was moist and red and some long hairs were stuck in it.

“I took a good look around this camp, and there’s very little more than you can see from here. Just this crowd of broken down types, a few bundles rolled in hide, and some of them are carrying skin water bottles. They have a simple me-stronger pecking order so I pecked a bit and we can drink. Food comes next.”

“Who are they? What are we doing?” Mikah asked, mumbling a little, obviously still suffering the after-effects of the blow. Jason looked at the contused skull, and decided not to touch it. The wound had bled freely and clotted. Washing it off with the highly dubious water would accomplish little and might add infection to their other troubles.

“I’m only sure of one thing,” Jason said. “They’re slaves. I don’t know why they are here, what they are doing or where they are going, but their status is painfully clear – ours, too. Old Nasty up there on the hill is the boss. The rest of us are slaves.”

“Slaves!” Mikah snorted, the word penetrating through the pain in his head. “It is abominable. The slaves must be freed.”

“No lectures please, and try to be realistic – even if it hurts. There are only two slaves that need freeing here, you and I. These people seem nicely adjusted to the status quo and I see no reason to change it. I’m not starting any abolitionist campaigns until I can see my way clearly out of this mess, and I probably won’t start any then either. This planet has been going on a long time without me, and will probably keep rolling along once I’m gone.”

“Coward! You must fight for the Truth and the Truth will make you free.”

“I can hear those capital letters again,” Jason groaned. “The only thing right now that is going to make me free is me. Which may be bad poetry, but is still the truth. The situation here is rough but not unbeatable – so listen and learn. The boss, his name is Ch’aka in case you care, seems to have gone off on a hunt of some kind. He’s not far away and will be back soon, so I’ll try and give you the entire setup quickly.

“I thought I recognized the language, and I was right. It’s a corrupt form of Esperanto, the language all the Terido worlds speak. This altered language plus the fact that these people live about one step above the stone-age culture is pretty sure evidence that they are cut off from any contact with the rest of the galaxy, though I hope not. There may be a trading base somewhere on the planet, and if there is we’ll find it later. We have enough other things to worry about right now, but at least we can speak the language. These people have contracted and lost a lot of sounds and even introduced a glottal stop, something that no language needs, but with a little effort the meaning can still be made out.”

“I do not speak Esperanto.”

“Then learn it. It’s easy enough even in this jumbled form. And shut up and listen. These locals are born and bred slaves and it is all they know. There is a little squabbling in the ranks with the bigger ones pushing the work on the weak ones when Ch’aka isn’t looking, but I have that situation well in hand. Ch’aka is our big problem, and we have to find out a lot more things before we can tackle him. He is boss, fighter, father, provider and destiny for this mob, and he seems to know his job. So try to be a good slave for a while….”

“Slave! I?” Mikah arched his back and tried to rise. Jason pushed him back to the ground – harder than was necessary.

“Yes, you – and me, too. That is the only way we are going to survive in this arrangement. Do what everyone else does, obey orders, and you stand a good chance of staying alive until we can find a way out of this tangle.”