[Steve Hamrick]

1230
Faraden, capital city of Engria of Pandra

Stovel perked up, looking at the workers cutting fruit from the plants by hand in the field. Their own inventors and tinkerers had been trying for a while to build a machine to make the harvest quicker, perhaps this might be a way.

"Ah, a fine thing, then, Dr. Cross!" He looked at his princess and Parine nodded, and so Stovel unslung the muzzleloader and offered it, the muzzle pointing up safely to the sky. "Charcoal, saltpeter, and brimstone, it's just a hunting rifle of course. Cartridges and revolvers aren't a fair way to hunt a dumb beast."

Steve had heard that from a lot of his in-laws, but had to kick his estimate of their tech higher.

He demonstrated by brushing aside his fine outer layers of clothing, showing a six-shooter revolver. "Now, this is the weapon for dealing with scoundrels and brigands."

Just one step below fully semi-automatic weapons. "You get a lot of those, Magistrate?"

"This is for trips across the wall into Ferria, Colonel, bandits and criminals everywhere over there. Most of them know better than to try to run in Engria."

And the party rode on, as buildings got larger at the heart of the city.

Parine looked up at the sun. "A grand lunch should be laid out when we arrive, you and your party are welcome to our hospitality for food."

"And we are very grateful for your offer, Princess."

The mounted Pandrans reined up in an elaborate courtyard of a great manor house. Stovel dismounted as workers from the stables came to take the horses. And stare at the five strangers accompanying the hunting party.

A quelling glare made the grooms focus on the horses as Stovel addressed SV-3. "If you would excuse me, I have to consult briefly with our Prince, to announce you."
________________________________
1235
Royal Chambers

Stovel's manner changed as he approached the doors of the private chambers of the his Prince. He was deferent and careful, with the manner of a man dealing with a particularly vicious person. "Your Highness, we have returned from the hunt, with strangers from the gateway looking to trade."

Unlike so many of the free Engrian people of Pandra with their hair loose and long, the Prince's hair was long but bound up, as blond as his sister's. Anybody would call the prince pretty, prettier than his younger sister Parine. His beauty was helped considerably by youth, being only about twenty.

Perion, ruling Prince of Engria of Pandra, went to the window facing the courtyard and brushed aside the heavy curtain enough to see out. The strangers were obvious, as he cast over the group. "Him, the tall one with black hair. What's his name?"

Stovel shuffled his feet. "Colonel Hamrick, their leader. But I doubt he's, Your Highness, no discourtesy to your person, but I'm sure he's not your sort. Their party has two very beautiful women in it."

Perion shook his head and let the curtain fall. "Offer them servers from the dasa of the royal house and tell them that regretfully I am away on a diplomatic task." He finished the binding of his long blond hair, a process he could still do on autopilot. "If anyone says anything that tips him off that I'm not dasa anymore, I'll have their head on a pike, Stovel. Negotiate a trade deal in my name, I give you that authority."

The magistrate bowed again and scampered out before the prince's infamous bad temper could turn on him. Perion shuffled through the things on his dressing table and grabbed the pottery jar of thick black kohl to paint his eyes.

<<Tag Isabelle Cooper , Stephanie Martin , Javan Huntley , Evan Cross >>

[Javan Huntley]

1235
Pandra, Stables.

Javan glanced at his companions and once they were alone he let out a breath. "Not to sound petty, but that guy makes me feel like taking up human euthanasia...Not sure I like this whole slave business."

He placed a hand on one of the horses flanks, the animals flinched, but a few soft words from the medical officer calmed it. "I can keep my tongue, but my temper in such situations may be short. Don't expect me to speak much for a change, I may end up saying something regrettable. However. If we end up trading with them, if they offer slaves, ask for children, we can free them that way."

[Isabelle Cooper]

1235
Faraden, capital city of Engria of Pandra

First slaves, now Stovel was discussing revolvers with Hamrick as they neared the city. It was like feudal times met the American Wild West mixed with the 19th century and it seemed to be all ruled by one man and his family. Yes it was good that the noble families helped out the poor by providing them with work, but the work benefited the families themselves and gave the workers very little to live off it. 

They walked into the courtyard, dasa came out to take care of the horses, careful to avoid getting in the way of their uppers all while completing the tasks they had been assigned. Isabelle gave a young man who loved past her a friendly smile, all he did was quickly glance at her and then look back to the ground as if he had been caught doing something he shouldn't have been doing. Stoval went off to announce themselves to the Prince, Isabelle took the moment to move to Steves side. "Colonel, please tell me if I am speaking out of place. I know we have orders to work on a trade agreement but if we trade with these people, no matter how kind they are, we will do nothing more than to give them a reason to continue this barely feudalistic system." there had to be a point where they drew a line with a culture, what the "line" was exactly she did not know, but there was no better time to find out than the present. 

[Steve Hamrick]

1235
Pandra, Stables

Steve looked at Huntley, and the rather clearly shared likewise opinion of Cooper. "All right, yes, by our standards it's objectionable. But the term they use I recognize, mostly from debating this crap with Dr. Warren. How slavery in the ancient world came up is a long story involving me and my in-laws, but the overall situation may not be as bad as what our modern image of slavery is. And they probably have rules against selling their people to outsiders like the ancient Hebrews had, but decent thought process, Huntley. We can walk away if we have to and go talk to the other country back towards the stargate."

1250
Grand Room

SV-3 and their Pandran hosts were gathered around a table as Stovel returned. "Ahh, our honored guests, I must offer the sincerest apologies, Colonel, Captains, Doctor, Lady, but it seems our esteemed prince is away on a diplomatic engagement. But please, enjoy lunch with us, and we can discuss trade."

Plates and dishes were carried in and out as Steve just decided to tackle the exact parameters of the Engrian's system, starting with those serving the dinner. "Before that, we may have some conflicts between how we do things and how you do things. For instance, the kitchen staff, they're dasa, right?"

"Half and half, those employed by the manor, and those who committed small crimes, tax debtors mostly. Some are related to the landowners, seeking to make influence and connections while serving in the royal house as dasa. After all, His Highness is still in search of a wife."

Parine's tone was brittle as glass. "I don't think there's any of the dasa women serving the royal house have delusions that way, Stovel."

"Ahh, but His Highness's own mother was a dasa who became the mistress of our dead Prince, many blessings that he may reach enlightenment. They have protection of law like anybody else in Engria, the prince's mother rose from working off her tax debts to being the consort."

"So, say, if I wanted to buy one of the dasa serving dinner . . ."

"They're dasa, not property. Their rights by the Arthashastra could not be guaranteed at the hands of strangers, honored guests though you and your people are, Colonel."

<<Tag Javan Huntley , Stephanie Martin , Isabelle Cooper , Evan Cross >>

[Javan Huntley]

1250
Grand Room

Javan was served, but taking his cue from the natives he did not smile or offer thanks to those who served him. He listened politely to the talk, keeping his mouth shut, or full of food, alternating the two. He did not like the idea of slavery, but at least the Dasa seemed to have some rights. He noticed one of the Dasa moved differently from the others, not in a highly noticeable way, but a sublte difference, as if that person had learned to walk properly at one point, but had then been re educated. It made him wary, but not out right suspicious.

His cup had been filled with a local drink and as he took a sip he realized it was alcohol. He didn't dare drink it, not knowing how strong it was.

"Excuse me? I'm afraid I cannot drink this, my oath to duty forbids me to consume fermented food and drink while acting in my capacity as an Officer, if I could get water or some simple fruit juice? I apologize if it is offensive, but, I must adhere to my pledge, my companions should also be given drinks that do not contain alcohol. I'm also afraid that even if not on duty we would not be abe to partake of this undoubtly fine wine without knowing more about the fruit that it is made from, your people may have a tolerance for a fruit that could cause a serious reaction in us." He kept his face neutral, yet apologetic, a trick he had learned from dealing with the court officers who had handled his divorce and his former CO's punishment. He looked at Hamrick and used two fingers to indicate a fruit on the table that looked like a cross between a strawberry and an apple, only with scales like a pineapple. Javan's concern was that the leaves still attached to the strange fruit looked a lot like Foxglove leaves.

[Steve Hamrick]

1251
Grand Room

Stovel clapped his hands to summon a server. "Of course! Apologies, Captain Huntley."

A server entered and looked between both Huntley and Stovel, before bowing slightly to Stovel and speaking. "Yes, lord Magistrate?"

He gestured to a fruit that bore resemblance to a peach, except for its deep purple color. "Squeeze some of the bolra and mix it with water, the boiled water, mind, Sequa. Enough for all, too."

"It might take several minutes, magistrate."

"Quick as possible, for our esteemed new friends."

Steve watched Sequa leave and nodded to Huntley, passing up that fruit and reaching for one of the purple peaches. Be nice if they had anything close to oranges. "How many different plants do you grow for food?"

"Dozens, but planted in different amounts you understand, rotated on the fields each season. We can't dictate to the landholders what they plant, only how much the government buys for foreign trade."

1251
Kitchen

Sequa ran in, getting the attention of the headwoman of the kitchen. "Grab a half bushel of bolra and start squeezing. Orders of Magistrate Lard Bucket."

The kitchen was normally loud with chatter, gossip and bickering, but the place was far more quiet than normal. And Sequa saw why, or rather who had joined them.

Perion's clothes were as simple as anyone else in the kitchen as he looked to Sequa, who was starting to sweat. "The offworlders won't take the wine? Or is Lard Bucket being self-important again?"

Sequa shook his head. "No, Yo-, I mean, the offworlders refused the wine, military duty and that."

The blond waved it off. "Then we will get fruit and start squeezing."

"Did you want, anything, added to the juice?" Sequa glanced out where the door opened to let in one of the women with used plates as a basket of fruit was dropped on the table.

Perion sniffed. "Of course not! I have my looks, what else do I need?"

1252
Grand Room

Steve examined the, bolra, or purple peaches. "Now I noticed a lot of your harvesting is manual labor. Is that by preference, the limits of the plants, or lack of the machinery?"

Parine looked up. "We have tried to build some machines for the harvest, but our designs tend to mangle the crops." She looked to Doctor Cross, with a polite smile. "You seemed interested in what machines we can make. If you had a live plant to study, could you build a working harvesting machine? For such a trade, we could offer a significant amount of our harvest."

<<tag Javan Huntley , Isabelle Cooper , Stephanie Martin , Evan Cross >>

[Isabelle Cooper]

1251
Grand Room

As much as she wanted to disagree with him about what he had said, she also realized that Colonel Hamrick had a point, while all slavery was the same, there were (kind of) different types. For all they knew the slaves could have as much freedom as Roman ones did thousands of years ago, or they could be brutally treated and beaten for the smallest wrong doing. 

The group was lead into a large room and no sooner were they seated were dishes of food laid before them. The array of colors was very appealing, even though she did not have a clue as to what any of the items were. Isabelle looked up as Steve wasted no time in asking about the people working in the house. The conversation briefly turned to the talk of how the Prince was still looking for a wife, and apparently dasa women could be eligible. 

Isabelle picked up the glass of wine in front of her as she kept listening, while the glass was rather full she did not plan on drinking more than a sip, she was mostly curious in seeing how it tasted compared to the drink back home and she did not want to appear rude. Just as she was going to touch the cup to her lips Steve asked about buying one of the dasa's serving them dinner. She set the cup down and looked over to where he sat, trying her best not to glare at him. What in gods name was he trying to do? 

"They're dasa, not property. Their rights by the Arthashastra could not be guaranteed at the hands of strangers, honored guests though you and your people are, Colonel."

Stovels answer showed that they at least care about the rights of their workers...or so they seemed to. "What warrants a small crime? Is it something like stealing from the market or are most cases left up to the discretion of the accuser? Also who decides if someone becomes a dasa...and for how long?" Izzy asked in an even tone,  "And I apologize for the barrage of questions, but I am curious about your judicial system and local laws." if anything it would help them better understand how things were run in the country and that could help them better come up with a trade plan. 

[Evan Cross]

1251
Grand Room

The meal laid out before them was impressive, a wide selection of foods for them to choose from – and like Isabelle, he had to admit to a certain curiosity about the wine. The benefits of being a civilian. He could steal a sip without military regulations actually being in the way. But, as Hamrick noted, the harvest here was hard work accomplished through manual labor, and Parine looked to him with a pleasant smile, expressing great interest in a machine to aid them. More to the point, whether he could design one. "Uh… yes?"

He could certainly draw up plans for a basic model – one pulled by horses or oxen. The efficiency of such a method would be an improvement over their current situation. Evan looked to Steve, gauging his reaction. The final call, of course, was the Colonel's, as was the determination of just how far to jump their technology ahead. He looked back to Parine. "Maybe a combine harvester – something that can reap, thresh and winnow grain crops. Have your people developed or conceptualized a working engine yet?"

< Tag: Isabelle Cooper , Javan Huntley , Steve Hamrick , Stephanie Martin > 

[Javan Huntley]

Javan nodded to the Lord Magistrate. He was certain he detected a small hint of fear in the dasa's voice, but he could have been imagining it. He waited patiently for the juice and when the topic turned to harvesting, he had a small question.

"Excuse me, Princess, but what sort of protections do your people offer to animals? I mean of course beast of burden and the like. I noticed some of your horses seemed in better condition than others, but I have not seen any other animals. I ask as a breeder of fine Dogs, it would pain me to think that high quality animals are treated like common street curs."

He was actually concerned about all of the animals, but he was trying to seem more like them, by acting like profit and quality meant more than the animal itself.

When the juice came he noticed a new dasa, but this one was different. Although this one acted like the others, he, and Javan was not fooled into thinking otherwise despite the make up and feminine figure, had a quality to him that seemed more regal. But Javan wrote it off as him being a higher class person who had chosen to become dasa for a rise in status. He sampled the juice and found it slightly sweet, with a certain crispness to it. He was proud of the fact he could detect most natural toxins by taste. He tasted none.

"This is a fine drink, Lord Magistrate, Princess. I must ask, how much of this fruit do you produce, and how much do you lose to disease or pest? Also how many animals do you lose to disease in a typical season? I am both a human healer and animal healer, so I have medicines that can prevent many illnesses, and if we do not have on now, I could make some given time."

[Steve Hamrick]

1252
Grand Room

On one hand, trading their more-advanced tech at design and machinery sounded perfect, knowledge was preferable over supplies. But the colonel knew his history. Giving the Pandrans mechanical means to boost their harvest could easily encourage their somewhat warped legal system to sentence more people to slavery. And Cooper brought up questions to the very thought on Steve's mind.

Parine waved a hand as the end of the meal was approaching and those who were dasa to the royal house were taking used plates from the table. "Theft, assault, the like. The worst of our criminals hang without option, most others choose to repay their crimes by serving those their crime was against. Any criminal can choose prison over being dasa, but it's not exactly a route any sane Engrian of Pandra would take."

Steve tried to give a smile of thanks to the servant who took the not particularly used plate in front of him. "Well, I think I'd choose prison myself, Your Highness."

Parine for a moment looked at the colonel like he was raving mad before looking to Dr. Cross with a smile. "Some engines of steam and water that drive things like city gates, large engines, it hasn't worked yet to make such machinery smaller, much as the tinkerers and alchemists have tried. And usually a tenth or a fifth of the harvest, even when the landholders bring in every sentenced dasa on their lands, they can't pick all the groves before the fruit starts to rot on the branch."

Stovel yanked his glass back from a server and signaled to re-fill the wine as he answered about the handling of animals. It was the first thing that seemed to penetrate his large, friendly demeanor. "We tend to think that a man can handle his property as he wishes. My hunting horse is the dumbest beast Lord Mahadev ever created and needs the spur, but the animal is my only horse that doesn't spook at the gun. My better horses are smarter and don't need the rough treatment."

Steve was about to speak and try to ease things over before Huntley could talk again as a server set down the alcohol-free juice they'd been offered. The first thing that struck him as he turned slightly to acknowledge the dasa was a pair of huge, blue eyes set in a stunningly pretty face. He shook his head slightly and tried the juice, nodding thanks to the servant. The smile he got back made him shake his head as the blond pretty boy walked off. This was so not happening. "Before we get too deep into our resources, I think we should bring up how many bushels we would be interested in. I've been told we need a starter of about 30 bushels."

<<Tag Javan Huntley, Evan Cross , Isabelle Cooper , Stephanie Martin >>

[Javan Huntley]

Javan nodded. "I can understand needing to use a little more force with an animal that isn't compliant."

He sat back down, managing to keep his inner anger from showing. He watched the seductive male Dasa flirt without words with Hamrick.

"Lt. Col. Hamrick I'd like permission, before we return through the gate, to run some simple blood tests on everyone to check for any foreign agents. I would also like to take samples from the native populace for the same reason, please keep this in mind." He was eyeing a woman who had brought food out, she seemed in good health to an untrained eye, but he could tell she was having trouble breathing, and when she walked by him, he heard the distinct sound of fluid in the lungs.

[Steve Hamrick]

1800
Courtyard

After the lunch, SV-3 had been allowed to tour the local area by wagon, with Colonel Hamrick more and more aware that trying to apply pragmatism and pursue this trade deal was going to mean something resembling a mutiny. Check-in with Vedas had been done at 1600 on their tour and this deal was not going to happen.

And so the team left to head back toward the stargate, chalked up to 'insurmountable cultural differences.'

1830
Road back to the Stargate

The team was halfway back when Steve heard the ring of hooves on the stonework of the road and turned. The blond was no longer dressed like a slave and Steve looked at Huntley. Who had been right 100% and Steve knew he'd fallen for it. The 'please let me attend you or I'll be punished for your rejection' pleas Perion had played. And so he'd had the attractive young man hanging around him all afternoon.

Perion's hair was down now, and he looked spurned but holding onto regal bearing. "I don't take rejection well, Colonel."

"Sorry about that, but there's way too much moral distance between your people and our people for this trade relationship to work. And you should work on that, taking rejection gracefully is a valuable life skill."

It was a pure fit of jealousy when he spoke again. "I would say you'll live to regret this, but I highly doubt that, considering what will happen when the gods bring their retribution down on you."

"See now, the melodrama, that, right there. Tone that down by three, because drama queen is not a good look on you. This isn't going to work, on any level. Good-bye, Your Highness."

There were far too many guns and in his fit of pique Perion had rode alone. The prince kicked his fine boots into the horse's side and turned the animal. But his tone was purely that of a bratty child denied a toy, no matter how big a tantrum he could muster. "I'm putting a price on your head! If you survive what's coming, there won't be a slaver anywhere in this galaxy who doesn't know your name!"

As the sound of hooves faded, Steve resolutely turned to continue to lead from point to return back to Vedas. The gate was up around the next turn in the road and while the future was just going to be the future right now, he looked at the team. Oh, he hoped they could keep their mouths shut. The official report was the official report, and if a certain anthropologist heard a creatively warped version of events, heads would be rolling.

<<And end>>