Lt. Ian O'Connor- The Fleebering of Melons
rob mahardy
((Noh’ath, just outside the city near the crash site))
They hurried their way down the street and when they were about twenty meters or so away, Ian turned his head to Alyndra.
O’Connor: I think he liked your nose flaps.
Alyndra frowned at Ian, before checking the natives were certainly gone. Shooting a look between Ian and the cloud of smog that their could-have-been attackers disappeared into, she discreetly hit her combadge.
Syrex: =/\= Syrex to Odreen =/\=
Odreen: =/\= Odreen here, Lieutenant =/\=
Syrex: Can you pull whatever you can from that language session to find out what vingy vingy means?
Odreen: =/\= Working =/\=
Ian had a pretty decent idea of what it at least implied.
O’Connor: Are you sure you really want…
Odreen’s reply cut him off
Odreen: =/\= Vingy Vingy appears to ask for a trade of some sort =/\=
O’Connor: ::mumbles to self:: I guess that’s one interpretation. ::rolls eyes::
Alyndra paused for a moment, scratching her chin thoughtfully.
Syrex: =/\= Thanks Odreen =/\= ::Turns to O’Connor:: I have a theory, Lieutenant.
O’Connor: Do tell, doctor.
Syrex: They only said to trade after they saw me, it’s quite possible that women are seen as commodities here. Given the only workers we’ve seen so far are men, is it possible that the men do physical grunt work, whilst women administrate and birth more workers? It seems quite similar to 19th century Earth, only women are given more responsibly, with no rights.
O’Connor: Maybe. A lot of cultures have gone through or even still have similar views.:: frowns:: It wasn’t that long ago that the Ferengi had their women’s movement.
Syrex: I’m not sure I like this planet… The sooner we get that nacelle, the better.
O’Connor: Agree wholeheartedly. Still, like it or not the prime directive is in play so we need to be careful with our viewpoints around the natives. ::looks back over his shoulder at where the two natives disappear into the smog:: No matter how much I’d like to pummel some enlightenment into them.
Syrex: Response
O’Connor: I think we need to figure out what passes for currency or whatever our inebriated jerk friend back there wanted to trade you for …uh… you know… ::blushes a bit, turning his purple cheeks more of a violet color:: uh, favors.
Syrex: Response
O’Connor: If you’re right about it being a trading culture, we are going to need something of value to get information or pay for whatever we ‘ll need.
Syrex: Response
After several twists and turns to try to keep their general direction, they came out of an alleyway next to a large building that seemed like residential housing for multiple families. Several similar structures lay between them and the factory with the warehouse-like structure they were headed to on the far side of that.
A small open market of several carts was off to their left. There were numerous natives milling about the area mostly shopping for local produce and goods. Ian gestured with a head nod.
O’Connor: Let’s see what we can figure out observing
Syrex: Response
They meandered into the marketplace walking around several carts and small shops trying to let the universal translator work its magic. They also tried to pick up cultural nuances of the shoppers and vendors. Ian was particularly focused on the haggling that was going on. While there did appear to be currency exchanging through metal coins, it was just as common for there to be swaps of foul, fruits and other small trinkets.
O’Connor: ::whispering to Alyndra:: Seems pretty straight forward.
Ian picked up a small pale looking sphere he guessed was a melon and unconsciously squeezed it the way he’d learned growing up in order to tell freshness. With just the slightest pressure the melon ruptured, spraying a syrupy brown juice in all directions, including onto Alyndra’s face.
Syrex: Response
The older lady behind the counter went wide eyed and flailed her arms in the air.
Merchant: schmOOzle bistol vizznok! F’jonk your fleebers off my melons!
Ian put his hands up in protest, still holding the crushed melon.
O’Connor: Sorry, sorry I just…
He ducked forward squishing a few other melons as the merchant swung what seemed to be some sort of broom where his head used to be.
Merchant: Help, Help. Pollinvix. Help. He fleebered my melons!
People started to turn and stare at the scene. Some pointed, others showed expressions of disgust and many seemed to also be shouting out for help.The merchant continued to swing wildly with her broom causing Ian to stumble backwards almost knocking over Syrex.
Syrex: Response
Having no way to compensate for the squashed fruit, Ian followed the only course of action he could think of. He tossed the melon skin down, wiped off his hand, turned to Syrex and calmly said…
O’Connor: Run
Syrex: Response
TBC/Tags
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Lieutenant Ian O’Connor
HCO
USS Ronin NCC-34523
R240009IO4