The Ethical Engineer (14 page)

"Very funny, ha-ha," Jason grumbled, then moved closer for a better
look at the man who had a fine case of strabismus, his eyes pointing
in independent directions. "You look familiar ... are you the new
slave I talked to today?"

"That's me, Snarbi, fine soldier, pikeman, checked out on club and
dagger, seven kills and two possibles on my record, you can check it
yourself at the guild hall."

"I remember it all Snarbi, including the fact that you know your way
back to Appsala."

"I've been around."

"Then the revolution is still on, in fact it is starting right now but
I want to keep it small. Instead of freeing all these slaves what do
you say to the idea that we two escape by ourselves?"

"Best idea I heard since torture was invented, we don't need all these
stupid people. They just get in the way. Keep the operation small and
fast, that's what I always say."

"I always say that, too," Jason agreed, digging into his boot with his
fingertip. He had managed to shove his best file and a lockpick into
hiding there while Mikah was betraying him back in their room. The
attack on Narsisi with the hammer had just been a cover up.

Jason had made the file himself after many attempts at manufacturing
and hardening steel, and the experiments had been successful. He
picked out the clay that covered the cut he had made in his leg-cuffs
and tackled the soft iron with vigor; within three minutes they were
lying on the floor.

"You a magician?" Snarbi whispered, shuddering back.

"Mechanic. On this planet they're the same thing." He looked around
but the exhausted slaves were all asleep and had heard nothing.
Wrapping a piece of leather around it to muffle the sound he began to
file a link in the chain that secured the shackles on his wrists.
"Snarbi," he asked, "are we on the same chain?"

"Yeah, the chain goes through these iron cuff things and holds the
whole row of slaves together, the other end goes out through a hole in
the wall."

"Couldn't be better. I'm filing one of these links, and when it goes
we're both free. See if you can't slip the chain through the holes in
your shackles and lay it down without letting the next slave know what
is happening. We'll wear these iron cuffs for now, there is no time to
play around with them and they shouldn't bother us too much. Do the
guards come through here at all during the night to check on the
slaves?"

"Not since I've been here, just wake us up in the morning by pulling
on the chain."

"Then let's hope that's what happens again tonight, because we are
going to need plenty of time—
there!
" The file had cut through the
link. "See if you can get enough of a grip on the other end of this
link while I hold this end, we'll try and bend it open a bit." They
strained silently until the opening gaped wide and the next link
fitted through the cut.

They slipped the chain and laid it silently on the ground, then
drifted noiselessly to the door.

"Is there a guard outside?" Jason asked.

"Not that I know. I don't think they have enough men here to guard all
the slaves."

The door would not budge when they pushed against it, and there was
just light enough to make out the large keyhole of a massive inset
lock. Jason probed lightly with the pick and curled his lip in
contempt.

"These idiots have left the key in the lock." He pulled off the
stiffest of his leather wrappings and after flattening it out pushed
it under the badly fitting bottom edge of the door, leaving just a bit
to hold onto. Then he poked lightly at the key through the keyhole and
heard it thud to the ground outside. When he pulled the leather back
in the key was lying in the center of it. The door unlocked silently
and a moment later they were outside, staring tensely into the
darkness.

"Let's go! Run, get away from here," Snarbi said and Jason grabbed him
by the throat and pulled him back.

"Isn't there one drop of constructive intelligence on this planet? How
are you going to get to Appsala without food or water, and if you find
some—how can you carry enough? You want to stay alive follow my
instructions. I'm going to lock this door first so that no one
stumbles onto our escape by accident. Then we are going to get some
transport and leave here in style. Agreed?"

The answer was only a choked rattle until Jason opened his fingers a
bit and let some air into the man's lungs. A labored groan must have
meant assent because Snarbi tottered after him when he made his way
through the dark alleys between the buildings.

Getting clear of the walled refinery town presented no problem since
the few sentries were only looking for trouble from the outside. It
was equally easy to approach Jason's leather-walled worksite from the
rear and slip through it at the spot where Jason had cut the leather
and sewn up the opening with thin twine.

"Sit here and touch nothing or you will be cursed for life," he
commanded the shivering Snarbi, then slipped towards the front
entrance with a small sledge hammer clutched in his fist. He was
pleased to see one of Edipon's other sons on guard duty, leaning
against a pole and dozing. Jason gently lifted his leather helm with
his free hand and tapped once with the hammer: the guard slept even
more soundly.

"Now we can get to work," Jason said when he had returned inside, and
clicked a firelighter to the wick of a lantern.

"What are you doing? They'll see us, kill us—escaped slaves."

"Stick with me Snarbi and you'll be wearing shoes. Lights here can't
be seen by the sentries, I made sure of that when I sited the place.
And we have a piece of work to do before we leave—we have to build a
caroj
."

They did not have to build it from scratch, but there was enough truth
in the statement to justify it. His most recently rebuilt and most
powerful engine was still bolted to the test stand, a fact that
justified all the night's risks. Three
caroj
wheels lay among the
other debris of the camp and two of them were to be bolted to the
engine while it was still on the stand. The ends of the driving axle
cleared the edges of the stand, Jason threaded the securing wheel
bolts into place and utilized Snarbi to tighten them.

At the other end of the stand was a strong, swiveling post that had
been a support for his test instruments, and seemed strangely large
for this small task. It was. When the instruments were stripped away a
single bar remained projecting backwards like a tiller handle. When a
third wheel was fitted with a stub axle and slid into place in the
forked lower end of the post the test stand looked remarkably like a
three-wheeled, steerable, steam engine powered platform that was
mounted on legs. This is exactly what it was, what Jason had designed
it to be from the first, and the supporting legs came away with the
same ease that the other parts had been attached. Escape had always
taken first priority in his plans.

Snarbi dragged over the crockery jars of oil, water and fuel while
Jason filled the tanks. He started the fire under the boiler and
loaded aboard tools and the small supply of
krenoj
he had managed to
set aside from their rations. All of this took time, but not time
enough. It would soon be dawn and they would have to leave before
then, and he could no longer avoid making up his mind. He could not
leave Ijale here, and if he went to get her he could not refuse to
take Mikah as well. The man had saved his life, no matter what
murderous idiocies he had managed to pull since that time. Jason
believed that you owed something to a man who prolonged your
existence, but he also wondered just how much he still owed. In
Mikah's case he felt the balance of the debt to be mighty small, if
not overdrawn. Perhaps this one last time.

"Keep an eye on the engine and I'll be back as soon as I can," he
said, jumping to the ground and loading on equipment.

"You want me to do
what
? Stay here with this devil machine? I
cannot! It will burn and consume me—"

"Act your age, Snarbi, your physical age if not your mental one. This
rolling junk pile was made by men and repaired and improved by me, no
demons involved. It burns oil to make heat that makes steam that goes
to this tube to push that rod to make those wheels go around so we can
move, and that is as much of the theory of the steam engine as you are
going to get from me. Maybe you can understand this better—only I can
get you safely away from here. Therefore, you will stay and do as I
say or I will beat your brains in. Clear?"

Snarbi nodded dumbly.

"Fine. All you have to do is sit here and look at this little green
disk, see it? If it should pop out before I come back turn
this
handle in
this
direction. Clear enough? That way the safety valve
won't blow and wake the whole country and we'll still have a head of
steam."

Jason went out past the still-silent sentry and headed back towards
the refinery station. Instead of a club or a dagger he was armed with
a well tempered broadsword that he had managed to manufacture under
the noses of the guards. They had examined everything he brought from
the worksite, since he had been working in the evenings in his room,
but ignored everything he manufactured as being beyond their
comprehension. This primordial mental attitude had been of immense
value for in addition to the sword he carried a sack of molotails, a
simple weapon of assault whose origins were lost in pre-history. Small
crocks were filled with the most combustible of the refinery's
fractions and wrapped around outside with cloth that he had soaked in
the same liquid. The stench made him dizzy and he hoped that they
would repay his efforts when the time came, since they were completely
untried. In use one lit the outer covering and threw them. The
crockery burst on impact and the fuse ignited the contents.
Theoretically.

Getting back in proved to be as easy as getting out, and Jason felt an
unmistakable twinge of regret. His subconscious had obviously been
hoping that there would be a disturbance and he would have to retreat
to save himself, his subconscious obviously being very short on
interest in saving the slave girl and his nemesis, particularly at the
risk of his own skin. His subconscious was disappointed. He was in the
building where his quarters lay, trying to peek around the corner to
see if a guard was at the door. There was, and he seemed to be dozing,
but something jerked him awake. He had heard nothing but he sniffed
the air and wrinkled his nose; the powerful smell of water-of-power
from Jason's molotails had roused him and he spotted Jason before he
could pull back.

"Who is there?" he shouted and advanced at a lumbering run.

There was no quiet way out of this one so Jason leaped out with an
echoing shout and lunged. The blade went right under the man's
guard—he must never have seen a sword before—and the tip caught him
full in the throat. He expired with a bubbling wail that stirred
voices deeper in the building. Jason sprang over the corpse and tore
at the multifold bolts and locks that sealed the door. Footsteps were
running in the distance when he finally threw the door open and ran
in.

"Get out and quick we're escaping!" he shouted at them and pushed the
dazed Ijale towards the door and exacted a great deal of pleasure from
landing a tremendous kick that literally lifted Mikah through the
opening, where he collided with Edipon who had just run up waving a
club. Jason leaped over the tumbled forms, rapped Edipon behind the
ear with the hilt of his sword and dragged Mikah to his feet.

"Get out to the engine works," he ordered his still uncomprehending
companions. "I have a
caroj
there that we can get away in." He
cursed them and they finally broke into clumsy motion. There were
shouts from behind him and an armed mob of D'zertanoj ran into view.
Jason pulled down the hall light, burning his hand on the hot base at
the same time, and applied its open flame to one of his molotails. The
wick caught with a roar of flame and he threw it at approaching
soldiers before it could burn his hand. It flew towards them, hit the
wall and broke, inflammable fuel spurted in every direction and the
flame went out.

Jason cursed and grappled for another molotail, because if they didn't
work he was dead. The D'zertanoj had hesitated a moment rather than
walk through the puddle of spilled water-of-power and in that instant
he hurled the second fire bomb. This one burst nicely too, and lived
up to its maker's expectations when it ignited the first molotail as
well and the passageway filled with a curtain of fire. Holding his
hand around the lamp flame so it wouldn't go out, Jason ran after the
others.

So far the alarm had not spread outside of the building and Jason
bolted the door from the outside. By the time this was broken open and
the confusion sorted out they would be clear of the buildings. There
was no need for the lamp now and would only give him away. He blew it
out and from the desert came a continuous and ear-piercing scream.

"He's done it," Jason groaned. "That's the safety valve on the steam
engine!"

He bumped into Ijale and Mikah who were milling about confusedly in
the dark, kicked Mikah again out of sheer malice and hatred of all
mankind, and led them towards the worksite at a dead run.

They escaped unharmed mainly because of the confusion on all sides of
them. The D'zertanoj seemed to never have experienced a night attack
before, which they apparently thought this was, and did an incredible
amount of rushing about and shouting. Matters were not helped by the
burning building nor the unconscious form of Edipon that was carried
from the blaze. All the D'zertanoj had been roused by the scream of
the safety valve, that was still bleeding irreplacable steam into the
night air, and there was much milling about.