April 6, 2013

She skipped the section on what the Pachem claimed they were and weren't. She could come back to that later. The government was officially a theocracy, the local groups organized into “parishes” with one to two villages and overseen by a “pastor” who seemed to combine head of state, head of church/temple/whatever with counselor, clerk-of-the-town and autocrat. They claimed there was no distinction between genders for the title. A pastor was a pastor was a pastor, unless she or he was a Chapter Bishop, a Regional Bishop, or the high up head honcho herself, Archbishop Sariah Grendel.

There was a link by the name. Vinka clicked it and it went to a link. A middle-aged woman with wrinkles and some kind of fancy headcovering smiled at a camera and spoke. It must be the local lingo, Vinka understood three words, Dinc, the name of the world, the city, Ilk Pays where the space port was, and “salamlamak” which was the first word, and one the Immigration bureaucrat greeted her with. Must be some kind of “hello”. Zinka made a note to herself to visit a lingo lab tomorrow. It looked like Crio, Metiz and a smattering of assorted invective wasn't going to cut it if she left the Trade Quarter. She closed the video in mid word and went on to the next bit.

Dinc exported some local wood, some salt, some grain, some meat, enough to have a slight positive cash flow. The local scrip ran on rubles, manatii and gapik with the last being the smallest. She checked the prices and wondered what that translated to off planet. Imports were some tech, with a list of forbidden commodities as long as your arm. Better guns (local preference seemed to be for blackpowder at best), artillery and explosives seemed to top the list. Apparently the Pachem, the ruling party or cult, didn't like them in the hand of civilians. Zinka thought of what was sealed in her 'pod and wondered if this was the world for her. She'd enough in her accounts to get her one, maybe two more transits before she ran out of the ready and had to start scouting for work. So, admit defeat and return to the unit, burning her soul day by day, or tough out this world.

She went back to reading, oddly enough, bookchips, knives and, vids weren't on the list. Not sure if it was wise or foolish of the archbishops and such.

The Pachem believed in some education, schooling, even for foreigner kids was mandatory until what looked to be puberty.