Colin Kapp - The Unorthodox Engineers

Then it blew itself to bits.

‘And something else,’ said Jacko. ‘They’ve just arrested Harris at the Command weapons store. So we won’t be using thermite bombs any more.’

It was summer in Hellsport. Flies and dust thickened the air, whilst the humid heat was relentless and intolerable. Even in the air-conditioned sanctuary of the Command HQ the fine dust crept through the filters and the humidity defied the monitors to hold the moisture content and the pressure down.

Sweltering in the heat, Colonel Ivan Nash was about ready to chew bricks anyway. So when the shouting began, he emerged from his office in a thoroughly bad mood. ‘What the fuck is going on out here? He yelled at no-one in particular’

One of the native helpers said with sly humour, ‘It is said that a train comes in from Juara bearing the greatest man on Cannis.’

‘Nonsense!’ said Nash irritably. ‘There are no trains left on the Juara-Callin line.’

‘That may be true,’ the native answered smugly, ‘but something is coming down the line. Look, you can see it for yourself.’

Nash fetched his field glasses and scanned the railway, which seemed to be dancing in the slow heat-haze. Something was coming down the Juara line, but the distance and the dust conspired to make identification impossible. Only when it grew nearer were the details of the vehicle displayed.

Nash choked and closed his eyes. ‘That bloody man!’

The ‘train’ bore a curious resemblance to an army cargo helicopter, minus rotors, and slung on a low truck, the wheels of which were broad grooved rollers. Various items of machinery were slung about the outside of the strange assembly, and on the front, perched awkwardly and in imminent danger of falling off, was Malu. He was waving a large red flag…

The train entered the terminus, reversed to another rail, then shuttled back and forwards just to show the proficiency of its roller wheels in manoeuvring on any gauge of line. The local workers went wild with enthusiasm, and shouted and cheered until Nash thought his head was going to split. He was still staring from his office window when Fritz van Noon came into the room.

The Colonel weighed him up silently. ‘All right, Fritz, you win—so far. I never thought you’d really make it. Too bad you had to step out of line to do it.’

‘You didn’t exactly help,’ said Fritz. ‘I thought we were finished when you had Ensign Harris arrested for stealing the thermite bombs. Fortunately Malu, our tame local genius, cooked us up a substitute using what I believe might be rocket fuel.’

‘Well,’ said Nash. ‘A very worthy effort. Too bad I have to throw the book at you. Unorthodox engineering I could learn to stand, but stealing government property is a very different matter.’

‘Is it?’ asked Fritz. ‘I have a warrant here authorizing the release of Ensign Harris. It’s neatly signed, sealed and counter-signed by Terran GenCom.’

‘No dice!’ said Nash. ‘I mean to court-martial Harris good and proper. Even GenCom can’t dictate to me on the internal administration of my own sector. With any luck Harris will still be in jail when the sun freezes over. And as soon as I can get evidence of complicity you’ll be up beside him. Besides which—’ he said accusingly, ‘—you haven’t had time to get GenCom confirmation on a release warrant.’

‘No need,’ said Fritz complacently. ‘I always have a release warrant for Ensign Harris filed away. We usually need it somewhere along the way.’

Nash stared at him grimly. ‘You mean to say that this man’s conduct is officially condoned?’

‘Condoned?’ Fritz chuckled. ‘As far as I am aware the only crime Harris committed was to get caught. For that I will personally reprimand him.’

‘But this is preposterous!’ said Nash. The man’s a thief ‘Well, yes. But that’s his speciality. It took us a long time to find someone of his calibre. He’s the man who obtained the suitcase nuke the navy used to end the rebel war. You wouldn’t believe who’s private arms cache it came from!’

‘Jesus! This gets worse and worse,’ said Nash, his voice rising with disbelief. ‘Do you mean to say you employ a known criminal because of his prowess at breaking and entering? What sort of trade classification do you call that?’

‘Quartermaster,’ said Fritz, with obvious enjoyment. ‘We want equipment and supplies, and Ensign Harris gets them for us.’ He shrugged. ‘We don’t ask too many questions, and anyway, it’s a point of honour that he never comes by anything through the proper channels.’

‘But… he… why?’ Nash sensed he was losing ground.

‘It’s part of the fundamental philosophy behind Unorthodox Engineering.’

Nash chewed his moustache nervously. ‘I’ve been warned about getting into an argument with you.’ He returned to the desk and poured himself a drink. On second thoughts he offered it to Fritz and poured himself another.

‘I don’t doubt you can explain,’ he said heavily. ‘I don’t doubt your ability to talk your way out of anything. I’m just warning you it’d better be good. If I’m not convinced I’ll have every man-jack of yours in irons before the morning.’

‘I think not,’ said Fritz. ‘I’m afraid you’ve been the victim of a slight deception. That crazy gang of bodgers of mine is not quite what it seems. This may be unethical, but if you attempted to take any action against us you’d be out of the army so fast you wouldn’t have time to change your hat.’

‘I warn you…’ ground out Nash.

Hear me out first,’ said Fritz. ‘Have you heard of Operation Hyperon.’

Nash nodded. ‘The deep-space penetration project. Exploring inward towards the galactic core.’

‘Precisely. Well, UE is the lead team that’s going.’

I don’t think I understand. Is this some sort of joke?’

‘No, sir, very far from it. You see, in a deep-space expedition you can’t afford to carry anything but men and the very minimum of equipment which will ensure survival. There are no supply ships, no machine shops, and no reference libraries in between the stars.

‘So what type of men do you send? Physicists who are lost without a laboratory? Engineers who can’t obtain any steel? No, you send the men who can make a plough out of a tree-trunk, a stone and a length of creeper. You send the men who have made a lifetime’s habit of turning anything they could lay their hands on to their own peculiar advantage.’

‘And that’s the philosophical concept behind UE?’

‘Just that,’ said Fritz. ‘Ours is an age of highly complex technology. Specialization and standardization are the key-words of our civilization. But as the starships spread us further across space the strings which tie us to the centres of order and knowledge tend to become a bit tenuous. You can only take a certain amount of technology with you. Things come unknit.’

‘A masterpiece of understatement,’ said Nash. ‘Even on Cannis IV we created a technological monster. We tried to apply Terran know-how without having the facilities to back us. It didn’t work.’

‘Just so,’ said Fritz, ‘hence UE. This is an experimental team chosen to a pattern decided after years of psycho-research. It’s a completely flexible approach with no precepts sacred except that the endjustifies the means. We have built a team which can construct the nucleus of a functional civilization out of bits of string and matchsticks if necessary. Our coming to Cannis IVwas simply an exercise.’

Nash picked up the phone and dialled a number.

‘Bring Ensign Harris to my office immediately—and forget the guards. I’m ordering his immediate release. That’s right, you idiot, I said “release”!’