The Ethical Engineer (13 page)

"You can fix it? You know what is wrong with it?" Edipon was vibrating
with joy.

"Not yet, I have barely looked at the thing. In fact one look was
enough to convince that the job will be as easy as stealing
krenoj
from a blind man. The engine is as inefficient and clumsy in
construction as your petroleum still. If you people put one tenth of
the energy into research and improving your product as you do into
hiding it from the competition, you would all be flying jets."

"I forgive your insult because you have done us a service. You will
now fix this engine and the other engines. A new day is breaking for
us!"

"Right now it is a new night that is breaking for me," Jason yawned.
"I have two days sleep to make up. See if you can talk your sons into
wiping the water off that engine before it rusts away, and when I get
back I'll see what I can do about getting it into running condition."

Edipon's good mood remained and Jason took advantage of it by
extracting as many concessions as possible. By hinting that there
might be more traps in the engine permission was easily gained to do
all the work on the original site instead of inside the sealed and
guarded buildings. A covered shed gave them protection from the
weather and a test stand was constructed to hold the engines when
Jason worked on them. This was of a unique design and built to Jason's
exacting specification, and since no one, including Mikah, had ever
heard of or seen a test stand before Jason had his way.

The first engine proved to have a burnt-out bearing and Jason rebuilt
it by melting down the original bearing metal and casting it in
position. When he unbolted the head of the massive single cylinder he
shuddered at the clearance around the piston; he could fit his fingers
into the opening between the piston and the cylinder wall; by
introducing cylinder rings he doubled the compression and power
output. When Edipon saw the turn of speed the rebuilt engine gave his
caroj
he hugged Jason to his bosom and promised him the highest
reward. This turned out to be a small piece of meat every day to
relieve the monotony of the
krenoj
meals, and a doubled guard to
make sure that his valuable property did not escape.

Jason had his own plans and kept busy manufacturing a number of
pieces of equipment that had nothing at all to do with his
engine-overhauling business. While these were being assembled he went
about lining up a little aid.

"What would you do if I gave you a club?" he asked a burly slave whom
he was helping to haul a log towards his workshop. Narsisi and one of
his brothers lazed along out of earshot, bored by the routine of the
guard duty.

"What I do with club?" the slave grunted, forehead furrowing and mouth
gaping open with the effort of thought.

"That's what I asked. And keep pulling while you think, I don't want
the guards to notice anything."

"If I have club, I kill!" the slave announced excitedly, fingers
grasping eagerly for coveted weapon.

"Would you kill me?"

"I have club, I kill you, you not so big."

"But if I gave you the club wouldn't I be your friend? Then wouldn't
you want to kill someone else?"

The novelty of this alien thought stopped the slave dead and he
scratched his head perplexedly until Narsisi lashed him back to work.
Jason sighed and found another slave to try his sales program on.

It took a while, but the idea was eventually percolating through the
ranks of the slaves. All they had to look forward to from the
D'zertanoj was backbreaking labor and an early death. Jason offered
them something else, weapons, a chance to kill their masters, and even
more killing later when they marched on Appsala. It was difficult for
them to grasp the idea that they must work together to accomplish this
and not kill Jason and each other as soon as they received weapons.

It was a chancy plan at best, and would probably break down long
before any visit could be made to the city. But the revolt should be
enough to free them from bondage, even if the slaves fled afterwards.
There were less than fifty D'zertanoj at this well station, all men,
with their women and children at some other settlement further back in
the hills. It would not be too hard to kill them or chase them off and
long before they could bring reinforcements Jason and his runaway
slaves would be gone. There was just one factor missing from his plans
and a new draft of slaves solved even that problem for him.

"Happy days," he laughed, pushing open the door to his quarters and
rubbing his hands together with glee. The guard shoved Mikah in after
him and locked the door. Jason secured it with his own interior bolt
then waved the two others over to the corner farthest from the door
and tiny window opening.

"New slaves today," he told them, "and one of them is from Appsala, a
mercenary or a soldier of some kind that they captured on a skirmish.
He knows that they will never let him live long enough to leave here,
so he was grateful for any suggestions I had."

"This is man's talk I do not understand," Ijale said, turning away and
starting towards the cooking fire.

"You'll understand this," Jason said, taking her by the shoulder.
"The soldier knows where Appsala is and can lead us there. The time
has come to think about leaving this place."

He had all of her attention now, and Mikah's as well, "How is this?"
she gasped.

"I have been making my plans, I have enough files and lockpicks now to
crack into every room in this place, a few weapons, the key to the
armory and every able bodied slave on my side."

"What do you plan to do?" Mikah asked.

"Stage a servile revolt in the best style. The slaves fight the
D'zertanoj and we get away, perhaps with an army helping us, but at
least we get away."

"You are talking
revolution
!" Mikah bellowed and Jason jumped him
and knocked him to the floor. Ijale held his legs down while Jason
squatted on his chest and covered his mouth.

"What is the matter with you? Want to spend the rest of your life
rebuilding stolen engines? They are guarding us too well for there to
be much chance of our breaking out on our own, so we need allies. We
have them ready made, all the slaves."

"Brevilushun...." Mikah mumbled through the restraining fingers.

"Of course it's a revolution. It is also the only possible chance of
survival that these poor devils will ever have. Now they are human
cattle, beaten and killed on whim. You can't be feeling sorry for the
D'zertanoj—every one of them is a murderer ten times over. You've
seen them beat people to death. Do you feel that they are too nice to
suffer a revolution?"

Mikah relaxed and Jason removed his hand slightly, ready to clamp down
if the other's voice rose above a whisper.

"Of course they are not nice, beasts in human garb is more truthful. I
feel no mercy for them and they should be wiped out and blotted from
the face of the earth as was Sodom and Gomorrah. But it cannot be done
by revolution, revolution is evil, inherently evil."

Jason stifled a groan. "Try telling that to two-thirds of the
governments that now exist, since that's about how many were founded
by revolution. Nice, liberal democratic governments—that were started
by a bunch of lads with guns and the immense desire to run things in a
manner more beneficial to themselves. How else do you get rid of the
powers on your neck if there is no way to legally vote them away? If
you can't vote them—shoot them."

"Bloody revolution, it cannot be!"

"All right, no revolution," Jason said, getting up and wiping his
hands disgustedly. "We'll change the name. How about calling it a
prison break? No, you wouldn't like that either. I have
it—liberation! We are going to strike the chains off these poor
people and restore them to the lands from which they were stolen. The
tiny fact that the slave holders regard them as property and won't
think much of the idea, therefore might get hurt in the process,
shouldn't bother you. So—will you join me in this Liberation
Movement?"

"It is still revolution."

"It is whatever I decide to call it!" Jason raged. "You come along
with me on the plans or you will be left behind when we go. You have
my word on that." He stomped over and helped himself to some soup and
waited for his anger to simmer down.

"I cannot do it ... I cannot do it," Mikah brooded, staring into his
rapidly cooling soup as into an oracular crystal ball, seeking
guidance there. Jason turned his back in disgust.

"Don't end up like him," he warned Ijale, pointing his spoon back over
his shoulder. "Not that there is much chance that you ever will coming
as you do from a society with its feet firmly planted on the ground,
or on the grave to be more accurate. Your people see only concrete
facts, and only the most obvious ones, and as simple an abstraction as
'trust' seems beyond you. While this long-faced clown can only think
in abstractions of abstractions, and the more unreal they are the
better. I bet he even worries about how many angels can dance on the
head of a pin."

"I do not worry about it," Mikah broke in, overhearing the remark.
"But I do think about it once in a while, it is a problem that cannot
be lightly dismissed."

"You see?"

Ijale nodded. "If he is wrong, and I am wrong—then you must be the
only one who is right." She nodded in satisfaction at the thought.

"Very nice of you to say so," Jason smiled. "And true, too. I lay no
claims to infallibility but I am sure that I can see the difference
between abstractions and facts a lot better than either of you, and I
am certainly more adroit at handling them. The Jason dinAlt fan club
meeting is now adjourned." He reached his hand over his shoulder and
patted himself on the back.

"Monster of arrogance," Mikah bellowed.

"Oh, shut up."

"Pride goeth before a fall! You are a maledicent and idolatrous
antipietist...."

"Very good."

"... And I grieve that I could have considered aiding you for even a
second, or of standing by while you sin, and fear for the weakness of
my own soul that I have not been able to resist temptation as I
should. It grieves me, but I must do my duty." He banged loudly on the
door. "Guard! Guard!"

Jason dropped his bowl and started to scramble to his feet, but
slipped in the spilled soup and fell. As he stood again the locks
rattled on the door and it opened. If he could reach Mikah before the
idiot opened his mouth he would close it forever, or at least knock
him out before it was too late.

It was too late. Narsisi poked his head in and blinked sleepily; Mikah
struck his most dramatic pose and pointed to Jason. "Seize and arrest
that man, I denounce him for attempted revolution, for planning red
murder!"

Jason skidded to a halt and back-tracked, diving into a bag of his
personal belongings that lay against the wall. He scrabbled in it,
then kicked the contents about and finally came up with a
metal-forming hammer that had a weighty solid lead head.

"More traitor you," Jason shouted at Mikah as he ran at Narsisi who
had been dumbly watching the performance and mulling over Mikah's
words. Slow as he appeared, there was nothing wrong with his reflexes
and his shield snapped up and took Jason's blow while his club spun
over neatly and rapped Jason on the back of the hand: the numbed
fingers opened and the hammer dropped to the floor.

"I think you two better come with me, my father will know what to do,"
he said, pushing Jason and Mikah ahead of him out the door. He locked
it and called for one of his brothers to stand guard, then poked his
captives down the hall. They shuffled along in their leg-irons, Mikah
nobly as a martyr and Jason seething and grinding his teeth.

Edipon was not at all stupid when it came to slave rebellions, and
sized up the situation even faster than Narsisi could relate it.

"I have been expecting this, so it comes as no surprise." His eyes
held a mean little glitter when he leveled them at Jason. "I knew the
time would come when you would try to overthrow me, which was why I
permitted this other to assist you and to learn your skills. As I
expected he has betrayed you to gain your position, which I award him
now."

"Betray? I did this for no personal gain," Mikah protested.

"Only the purest of motives," Jason laughed coldly. "Don't believe a
word this pious crook tells you, Edipon. I'm not planning any
revolutions, he just said that to get my job."

"You caluminate me, Jason! I never lie—you are planning revolt. You
told me—"

"Silence both of you, or I'll have you beaten to death. This is my
judgment. The slave Mikah has betrayed the slave Jason, and whether
the slave Jason is planning rebellion or not is completely
unimportant. His assistant would have not denounced him unless he was
sure that he could do the work as well, which is the only fact that
has any importance to me. Your ideas about a worker-class have
troubled me Jason. I will be glad to kill them and you at the same
time. Chain him with the slaves. Mikah, I award you Jason's quarter
and woman, and as long as you do the work well I will not kill you. Do
it a long time and you will live a long time.

"Only the purest of motives, is that what you said, Mikah?" Jason
shouted back as he was kicked from the room.

The descent from the pinnacle of power was fast and smooth. Within
half an hour new shackles were on Jason's wrists and he was chained to
the wall in a dark room filled with other slaves. His leg-irons had
been left on as an additional reminder of his new status. He rattled
the chains and examined them in the dim light of a distant lamp as
soon as the door was closed.

"How comes the revolution?" the slave chained next to him leaned over
and asked in a hoarse whisper.