The Ethical Engineer Read Online Free PDF Page B

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