“Your Excellency,” the High Priest said, “if the Pilgrims are allowed to breed, that cuts into the energy they have to work. Their production declines. That would mean less spice processed and ready for market.”
“Perhaps,” Kibbick said. “But, Teroenza, surely there must be some way to manage this without expensive drugs. Perhaps we could encourage them to mate, then use their larvae and eggs for foodstuffs.”
“Your Excellency,” Teroenza said, hanging on to his patience by a thread, “most humanoids don’t lay eggs or produce larvae. They have live births. They also have a very strong abhorrence for eating their own young.”
It was true that, every so often, a couple of slaves would emerge from the Exultation-induced haze enough to feel lust for each other. It was rare, but human children had actually been born here on Ylesia.
Teroenza had contemplated simply killing them out of hand, but, in the end, had decided that with a modicum of care, these children could be raised to become guards and administrative assistants. So he’d ordered them to be cared for in the slave barracks.
And, nowadays, fertility-inhibiting drugs were automatically added to the food served the slaves. It had been at least five years since the last accidental birth. “Oh,” Kibbick said. “Live births. I understand.” He went back to his records with a grimace.
Idiot, thought Teroenza. Idiot, idiot, idiot … how many years have you been here, and you never troubled to find out the most rudimentary facts about the Pilgrims…?
“Teroenza,” said Kibbick presently, “I’ve found something else I don’t understand.”
Teroenza took a deep breath, then counted to twenty.
“Yes, Your Excellency?”
“Why do we have to spend extra credits on weapons and shields on these ships? They’re only carrying slaves, after all, shipping them to the spice mines and the pleasure palaces after we have gotten the best work out of them. Who cares if raiders take them?”
Kibbick was referring to a raid a month ago by a group of human Rebels on a slave ship preparing to leave the Ylesian system. It wasn’t the first such raid. Teroenza didn’t know who was responsible, but he couldn’t stop thinking that it had to be Bria Tharen, that wretched Corellian traitor and renegade.
Besadii had placed a sizable bounty on her head, but so far, no one had claimed it. Perhaps it’s time to talk to Durga about increasing the bounty on Bria Tharen, Teroenza thought.
Aloud he said, with exaggerated patience, “Your Excellency, while it’s true we don’t care about the slaves once they leave here, they’re still worth credits to us. And ships are expensive. Having big holes blown in them tends to render them unusable—or, at least, very expensive to repair.”
“Oh,” said Kibbick, his brow furrowing. “Yes, I guess that would be correct. Very well.”
Idiot!
“Which brings to mind something I wanted to say to you, Your Excellency,” Teroenza said. “Something that I hope you will mention to your cousin. We must have greater protection here on Ylesia. It is only a matter of time until we here on the planet are attacked again.
These space-raids are bad enough, but if this Rebel group were to attack one of the colonies, you and I might conceivably be in danger.”
Kibbick was staring at the High Priest, obviously alarmed by the suggestion. “Do you think they’d dare?” he asked, his voice a trifle unsteady.
“They did before, Your Excellency,” Teroenza reminded him. “Bria Tharen, that ex-slave, led them. Remember?”
“Oh, yes, that’s true,” Kibbick said. “But that was over a year ago.
Surely they’ve learned the futility of trying to attack this world by now.
They did lose a ship in our atmosphere.”
Ylesia’s turbulent atmosphere was one of its best defenses.
“True,” Teroenza agreed. “But I would rather be safe than sorry, Your Excellency.”
“Safe than sorry …” Kibbick repeated, as though Teroenza had said something startlingly original and clever. “Yes, well … perhaps you have a point. We must be protected here. I will speak to my cousin about that today. Safe than sorry.., yes, indeed, we must be safe ” Still mumbling, Kibbick went back to his records. Teroenza relaxed back into his sling, and allowed himself the luxury of another roll of his bulbous eyes.
4
Domestic Bliss and Other Complications
Chewbacca and Mallatobuck’s wedding day dawned bright with promise and hope. Han, who had been told about the wedding only that morning, was glad that his friend was happy, but saddened at the prospect of losing him.