Procurando o nome de uma história curta (bastante antiga)
"Raça Guerreira" por Robert Sheckley; aqui está o projeto Gutenberg etext.
sobre uma nave que caiu em um planeta
Não caiu, eles fizeram um pouso de emergência porque estavam sem combustível:
They never did discover whose fault it was. Fannia pointed out that if Donnaught had had the brains of an ox, as well as the build, he would have remembered to check the tanks. Donnaught, although twice as big as him, wasn't quite as fast with an insult. He intimated, after a little thought, that Fannia's nose might have obstructed his reading of the fuel gauge.
This still left them twenty light-years from Thetis, with a cupful of transformer fuel in the emergency tank.
"All right," Fannia said presently. "What's done is done. We can squeeze about three light-years out of the fuel before we're back on atomics. Hand me The Galactic Pilot—unless you forgot that, too."
onde os nativos lutavam contra seus conflitos cometendo suicídio para mostrar sua coragem (e esperando que o inimigo fosse envergonhado / amedrontado em se render).
Fannia was frozen for a moment, unable to believe his eyes. Donnaught halted behind him.
Natives were rushing forward by the hundreds now, their knives poised, screaming at the Earthmen. As they came within range, each native stabbed himself, tumbling on a quickly growing pile of bodies. In minutes the Earthmen were surrounded by a heap of bleeding Cascellan flesh, which was steadily growing higher.
"All right!" Fannia shouted. "Stop it." He yanked Donnaught back with him, to profane ground. "Truce!" he yelled in Cascellan.
A história era bem antiga, definitivamente antes dos 1970s.
Publicado pela primeira vez em o 1952 de novembro Ficção científica da galáxia (com o nome de Isaac Asimov escrito incorretamente no cobrir), disponível no Internet Archive.
Não lembro de muitos detalhes, exceto que ele concluiu com a tripulação do navio acidentado que fez a engenharia reversa da coisa e ameaçou matar os nativos ANTES que eles pudessem se matar, privando-os de uma morte honrosa.
"I have powerful magic in my ship. I can kill every last man, and then you won't be able to die a warrior's death. Or get to heaven!"
The chief tried to free himself with a mighty surge that almost tore one of his arms free, but Fannia held on, pinning both arms behind his back.
"Very well," the chief said, tears springing into his eyes. "A warrior must die by his own hand. You have won, alien."
