Produced by Sankar Viswanathan, Greg Weeks, and the OnlineDistributed Proofreading Team at https://www.pgdp.net
Transcriber's Note:
This etext was produced from Analog Science Fact & Fiction July and August 1963. Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that the U.S. copyright on this publication was renewed.
THE ETHICAL ENGINEER
That mores is strictly a matter of local custom cannot be denied. But that ethics is pure opinion also...? Maybe there are times for murder, and theft and slavery....
BY HARRY HARRISON
Illustrated by John Schoenherr
All nature is but art, unknown to thee; All chance, direction which thou canst not see; All discord, harmony not understood; All partial evil, universal good: And, spite of pride, in erring reasons spite, One truth is clear, Whatever is, is right.
Alexander Pope _Essay on Man_
* * * * *
I
Jason dinAlt looked unhappily at the two stretchers as they werecarried by. "Are they at it again?" he asked.
Brucco nodded, the scowl permanently ingrained now on his hawklikeface. "We have only one thing to be thankful for. That is--so far atleast--they haven't used any weapons on each other."
Jason looked down unbelievingly at the shredded clothing, crushedflesh and broken bones. "The absence of weapons doesn't appear to makemuch difference when two Pyrrans start fighting. It seems impossiblethat this damage could be administered bare-handed."
"Well it was. Even you should know that much about Pyrrus by now. Wetake our fighting very seriously. But they never think how much morework it makes for me. Now I have to patch these two idiots up and tryto find room for them in the ward." He stalked away, irritated andannoyed as always. Jason usually laughed at the doctor's irasciblestate, but not today.
Today, and for some days past, he had found himself living with apersistent feeling of irritation, that had arrived at the same time ashis discovery that it is far easier to fight a war than to administera peace. The battle at the perimeter still continued, since the massedmalevolence of the Pyrran life forms were not going to call a trucesimply because the two warring groups of humans had done so. There wasbattle on the perimeter and a continual feeling of unrest inside thecity. So far there had been very little traffic between the cityPyrrans and those living outside the walls, and what contact there hadbeen usually led to the kind of violence he had just witnessed. Theonly minor note of hope in this concert of discord was the fact thatno one had died--as yet--in any of these fearsome hand-to-handconflicts. In spite of the apparent deadliness of the encounters allof the Pyrrans seemed to understand that, despite past hatreds, theywere all really on the same side. A distant rumble from the cloudedsky broke through his thoughts.
"There is a ship on the radar," Meta said, coming out of theground-control office and squinting up at the overcast. "I wonder ifit is that ecology expedition that Brucco arranged--or the cargo shipfrom Ondion?"
"We'll find out in a few minutes," Jason said, happy to forget histroubles for the moment in frank admiration, since just looking atMeta was enough to put a golden edge on this gloom-filled day.Standing there, head back searching the sky, she managed to bebeautiful even in the formless Pyrran coverall. Jason put his armsaround her waist and exacted a great deal of pleasure from kissing thegolden length of her up-stretched throat.
"Oh, Jason ... not now," she said in exasperation. Pyrran minds, bynecessity, run along one track at a time, and at the present momentshe was thinking about the descending spaceship. With a quick motion,scarcely aware of her action, she pulled his hands from her and pushedhim away, an easy enough thing for a Pyrran girl to do. But in doingso she half fractured one of his wrists, numbed the other, and knockedJason to the ground.
"Darling ... I'm sorry," she gasped, suddenly realizing what she haddone, bending quickly to help him up.
"Get away, you lady weight-lifter," he growled, pushing aside theproffered hand and struggling to his feet. "When are you going torealize that I'm only human, not made of chrome steel bars like therest of your people...." He stifled the rest of his words in disgust,at himself, his temper, this deadly planet and the cantankerousness ofits citizens that was scratching away at his nerves. He turned andstamped away, angry at himself for taking out his vile mood on Meta,but still too annoyed to make peace.
Meta watched him leave, trying to say something that would end thisfoolish quarrel, but unable to. The largest blank in the Pyrranpersonality was an almost complete lack of knowledge of human nature,and her struggle to fill in the gaps--gaps she was only just beginningto realize existed--was a difficult one. The stronger emotions of hateand fear were no strangers to her; but for the first time she wasdiscovering how difficult and complex was this unusual feeling oflove. She let Jason go because she was incapable of any other action.Of course she could stop him by force, but if she had learned anythingin the past few weeks, it was the discovery that this was one areawhere he was very sensitive. There was no doubt that she was farstronger than he--physically--and he did not like to be reminded aboutit. She went back into the ground-control room, almost eager to dealwith the impersonal faces of the dials and scopes, material andunchanging entities that posed no conflicting problems.
* * * * *
Jason stood at the edge of the field and watched the ship come in fora landing, his anger forgotten temporarily in the presence of thisbreak in routine. Perhaps this was the shipful of scientific eggheadsthat Brucco was expecting; he hoped so. It would be a pleasant treatto have a conversation with someone about a topic more universal thanthe bore dimensions of guns. With practiced eye he watched the landingwhich was a little sloppy, either a new pilot or an old one who didn'tcare much. It was a small ship so not many people would be aboard.Then the spacer turned for a moment, in a landing correction, and hehad a quick glimpse of a serial number and tantalizingly familiarinsignia on its stern--where had he seen that before?
The ship touched down and the flaring rockets died. There was only theclick of cooling metal from the ship: no one emerged, nor did any ofthe Pyrrans seem interested enough in the newcomer to approach it.That must mean that no one had any business with it, and, of course,no curiosity either, for this along with imagination was in very shortsupply on the war-torn planet. Since no one else was making any moves,Jason went forward to investigate for himself.
A stingwing that had escaped the perimeter guards dived towards himand he blasted it automatically with his gun. The corpse thudded tothe ground and the soil churned around it as the insectile scavengersfought for the flesh; only bare bones remained by the time he hadtaken two paces.
A muffled whine of motors told him that the lower hatch was opening,and Jason watched as a hairline crack appeared in the thick metal,then widened as the heavy door ground outwards. Through the opening hehad a glimpse of a figure muffled in a heavy-duty spacesuit. That mustbe Meta's work, she would have contacted the ship by radio while itwas on its way down and explained the standing orders that nooff-worlders were to be allowed out of their ships unless wearing theheaviest armor. Since the armed truce between the human inhabitantsthere had been a lessening of the relentless warfare the Pyrran lifeforms waged against the city, but only to a slight degree. Deadlybeasts still abounded, and the air was thick with toxic diseases. Astranger, unprotected, would be ill in five minutes, dead withinten--or much sooner if a horndevil or other beast got to him in theinterval.
Jason felt a ju
stified pride that he could walk this planet under hisown power. The natives, adapted to the deadliness and heavy gravitysince birth, were still his superiors, but he was the only off-worlderwho could stand the dangers of Pyrrus. His gun whined out of his powerholster into his waiting hand as he searched for some target to usehis talents on. An armored piece of nastiness, with a lot of legs, wascrawling into hiding under a rock and he blasted it neatly with asingle shot. The gun snapped back into the holster and he turned tothe open door of the spacer, his morale greatly improved.
* * * * *
"Welcome to Pyrrus," he told the ungainly figure that clumped out ofthe ship. There was a hefty maser-projector clutched in the armoredgloves and whoever was inside the suit, the face was invisible behindthe thick and tinted faceplate, seemed exceedingly nervous, turning tolook in all directions.
"Don't worry," Jason said, fighting to keep a tone of
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