March 28, 2013

Couldn't call the boy dumb, Liam decided, on the second morning loading the shuttle for the 'Patch. The boy had a row of pallets, stacked, wrapped and when he lifted the first and found it balanced, and just under the load limit. He nodded to the boy, “You did well, Batyar.”

The boy nodded and went back to stacking grain sacks on the pallets.

reference 2

english to Pinglish (winthuran)

http://dsal.uchicago.edu/dictionaries/steingass/

http://dsal.uchicago.edu/dictionaries/hayyim/

March 27, 2013

They had no heavy cargo machinery, for religious reasons, they said. They used simple liftjacks and the like, augmented by beasts of burden, they said. They offered him the lease of one, with a remote for controlling it. It was, they said, capable of following simple instructions, and gave him a list, because they didn't have learning capsules here, either, for religious reasons.

Religious reasons seemed to cover a great deal of “don't want to.” but Liam didn't point that out. This was Winthur, and they were all crazy fire worshipers.

They brought the beast of burden in with two guards, one with a staff or cudgel, the other holding a box with a blinking green light.

The beast of burden was a young Kedai male, half starved, if his hollow cheeks and sunken eyes were any guide. He still towered over the Winthurans, still was broader than both of them. He wore a dirty, ragged shirt and pants, skin showing bruises where the cloth didn't cover. His feet were filthy, and his dark hair hung in knotted clumps. He looked at Liam with impersonal hatred, his gaze flicking between the other men in the room with no more interest. A thick metal collar blinked a matching green light to the remote.

Liam had no fondness for the Kedai, he'd been drafted to help bring aid and medical supplies after they were beaten from Pendas, but he didn't hold with treating a sentient like an animal, not even with consent on both sides.

“That's the beast.” Elder Ramin said, gesturing with the remote. “It can carry, stack, but it needs supervision. Constant supervision.”

reference

Zoroastrian names

Zoroastrian religion (wikipedia)

March 26, 2013

They brought Trouble in to the offworlder with a shock collar chafing his neck and an Elder standing to one side, in plain view, his thumb twitching close to the activation button of a remote. The off worlder said something, the Elder answered in the same gibberish. Trouble watched them, the Elder wanted something, so did the offworlder, but not the same thing. Easy enough to guess what the Elder wanted, the last time Trouble'd gotten lose, he'd tried to strangle the nearest Elder, and now they didn't allow him to go collarless, even when they locked him into the box to sleep.

The Elder pointed at Trouble and slapped at his shoulder. Trouble dodged without appearing to leaving the older man to slap air. That earned him a quick jab of the button, and he stiffened, fighting to show no pain. The off-worlder shook his head, hand raised, and turned to leave. The Elder caught his arm, turning his back to Trouble.

Trouble looked at the fourth man in the room. The Lesser-Elder didn't have a remote, but the stick he held could rattle Trouble's brains easy enough. The off-worlder signed with mock resignation and took out some scrip and some kind of thin metal box that he gave to the Elder. They moved to a table at the far end of the room, bending over things, and the Elder put down the remote, Trouble, still watching the Lesser-Elder did nothing.

The Elders nodded at each other and they left, the Lesser-Elder to the rear, just like the procession when they carried the Fire from the Temple to the fields, for blessing.

The off-worlder picked up the remote, but held it negligently. He walked up to Trouble and looked up at him. “Scavvi metiz?”

Trouble looked at him with loathing, he could snap the off-worlder's neck in an instant, if he moved. He didn't know how quick the off-worlder could move, if he held other, hidden weapons. The collar was bad, but he knew its limits, could fight it, a little, if it wasn't set to maximum.

The off-worlder tapped his own chest, “Liamurphy.” he gestured to Trouble, eyebrows raised, his mouth stretching in a smile. He barely reached to Trouble's shoulder, scrawny as a calf at the end of winter, a shock of sparse reddish hair standing up every which way.

A name, that was what he wanted. “Trouble.” he gave it easily. “Speak Winthuran?”

The off-worlder smiled, “Little little. Yes, no.” He walked to the entrance of the room. “Come. Work.”

Trouble followed him, not sure what would happen next.

March 25, 2913

It wasn't going to be easy, Connor decided.  He'd a second pilot, there was that to be grateful for, even if she was only going to be second pilot for as long as it took her to get to a Grassive ship.  He could let go the last two DutyBorn who were his crew, hire another crew, swap out for the cargo pods he'd filled for the government of Winthur, in the hopes they'd take the tribute he offered and not realize that while they took what he offered, he stole the DutyBorn from beneath their noses.

The Grassive looked at him with neutral eyes, "You want what?"

"A pilot," he said. "You've your interstallar certs, haven't you?"

"Yes." the corners of her mouth turned down slightly. "Why should I sign on with you?"

"Because you need a ship, and I need a pilot." He shrugged. "No other ships in port, the Rattlepatch's it.  You sign on with me, or you wait for the next ship to port, and I know for a fact this's a quarternary port.  Next ship won't be here likely for half a year, if then, next harvest almost a local year away.  The place has a shuttle, I'm sure you can sign on with the Port for shuttle pilot duty."

She hissed, nose and mouth pinching. "And find myself locked into a contract for a half year after the last ship picks it's cargo, and no way to sign any but a full year out."

"I'm not much better." he admitted. "Pay's base standard, but crew shares and cargo found.  You find cargo that brings profit to the RattlePatch, you get share to the profit, half to the ship, half to the crew, a share to signed crew, a share additional to pilot, a share additional to captain."

"I've heard worse." she admitted. "Open contract, port to port?"

He shook his head, "Six ports at the least.  I rendezvous with a ship of the Bennish Lines next port, and lose Vertuth to them.  He's signed into their engineer apprentice track." Never mind that two years crewing the 'Patch was engineering enough to pass apprentice and journeyman ranks. "I need time to scout new engineer and second pilot, I lose my second, Anbai the port after next.  She's going supercargo to Artois for a junior pilot in their asteroid shuttle fleets."