United States or Saudi Arabia ? Vote for the TOP Country of the Week !
He had managed to shove his best file and a lockpick into hiding there while Mikah was betraying him back in their room. The attack on Narsisi with the hammer had just been a cover up. Jason had made the file himself after many attempts at manufacturing and hardening steel, and the experiments had been successful.
Narsisi retired, seething and mumbling to himself while Jason huddled over the oil stove planning the next step. It had taken most of the day to lay down logs for rollers and to push the sealed engine out into the sandy valley, far from the well site; open space was needed for any experiments where a mistake could release a cloud of war gas.
He opened the door and shouted for the guards, and for his son, Narsisi, who arrived as they were unlocking Jason who recognized him as the same droop-eyed and sleepy looking D'zertano who had been helping Edipon to drive their ungainly vehicle. "Seize this chain my son and keep your club ready to kill this slave if he makes any attempt to escape.
Some of it was in his ears, muffling them, so the first intimation he had that the door was opened was the sound of Mikah's hoarse shout. He was standing in the doorway, finger pointed and shaking with wrath. Narsisi was standing behind him, peering over his shoulder with fascination at this weird religious rite. "Degradation!" Mikah thundered.
Any doubt that this was the engine room was displaced by the black metal smokestack that rose up through the cabin roof. "We are leaving," Edipon screeched and waved his thin arms in the air. "Bring in the entranceway. Narsisi stand forward to indicate the way to the caroj. Now all pray as I go into the shrine to induce the sacred powers to move us towards Putl'ko."
"Wait a minute, boss, you still have a few things to learn about hired labor. There are always certain working conditions and agreements involved, all of which I'll be happy to list for you." "What I do not understand is why you must have the other slave?" Narsisi whined. "To have the woman of course is natural, as well as to have quarters of your own, my father has given his permission.
There was only one more opening, a smallish one in the rear, and no other controls on the garish container. "I'm beginning to get the picture, but you will have to tell me how you work the controls." "Death before that," Narsisi shouted. "Only my family " "Will you shut up!" Jason shouted right back. "Remember? You're not allowed to browbeat the help anymore. There are no secrets here.
Very little if there is another slave in the pens that can push in the same place. But kill me and what do you get? Brains on your club and they do you no good at all there." "Say, Dad, does he mean I can't kill him?" Narsisi looked puzzled as well as sleepy. "No, he doesn't mean that. He means if we kill him there is no one else that can do the work he is to do for us.
"What would you do if I gave you a club?" he asked a burly slave whom he was helping to haul a log towards his workshop. Narsisi and one of his brothers lazed along out of earshot, bored by the routine of the guard duty. "What I do with club?" the slave grunted, forehead furrowing and mouth gaping open with the effort of thought. "That's what I asked.
The novelty of this alien thought stopped the slave dead and he scratched his head perplexedly until Narsisi lashed him back to work. Jason sighed and found another slave to try his sales program on. It took a while, but the idea was eventually percolating through the ranks of the slaves. All they had to look forward to from the D'zertanoj was backbreaking labor and an early death.
Word Of The Day