“Why?” Han asked, wondering if he really wanted to know.
“Two ships—most unfortunately–could not negotiate our tricky atmosphere, and crashed. So we built a space station and decided to use living pilots to ferry the raw spice material down to the factories. We used to have three pilots, but now we are down to one, and the unfortunate Sullustan who is currently serving as our pilot has been … ill. That is why we need you, Pilot Draygo.”
It’s so nice to be needed, Han thought sarcastically. “Uh …
Veratil ˇ .
. what happened to those other guys?”
“One crashed, the other simply … disappeared. We have also lost a number of robot vessels, which has cut down on our profit margin most grievously,” Veratil said sadly. “Spice is a high-credit export, but spaceships are very expensive.”
“Yeah,” Han agreed sourly. “All those crashes would tend to put a crimp in your business.” No wonder they didn’t have pilots beating down their doors, he thought. Most of the experienced pilots have probably spread the word about how dangerous this planet is for pilots …
Han knew a little bit about the various kinds of spice, mostly from hearing Shrike and the other smugglers discuss their properties.
Glitterstim, mined on Kessel, was by far the most valuable. When exposed to light, then quickly ingested, it gave the user a temporary telepathic ability to sense surface thoughts and emotions. Spies used it, lovers used it, and the Empire used it when interrogating prisoners. Matter of fact, the Empire claimed all the glitterstim mined on Kessel as its rightful property, which was why it was so rare and so lucrative to smuggle.
Ryll came from the Twi’lek world, Ryloth, where it was perfectly legal to mine, and was used for analgesic purposes. There were illegal applications, however, and it could be used to produce several intoxicants and hallucinogens.
Carsunum was a black spice that came from Sevarcos, and it was quite rare and very valuable. Users experienced euphoria, and an increase in their abilities—while under the influence they became stronger, faster, and more intelligent. There was a downside, of course. After the effects wore off, users frequently became listless, depressed, and some even died when the substance had a toxic effect on their metabolisms.
Sevarcos also supplied the galaxy with andris, a white powder that was added to foods to enhance flavor and preserve them. Some users claimed that the drug caused a mild euphoria and increase in sensation.
They’re not mining it here, Han thought. These factories process the raw material to turn it into the finished product.
“Factories?” Han echoed. “They’re huge …”
“Yes, and Ylesia has admirable production rates, enabling us to favorably compete with the cost of the spice shipped directly from Kessel, Ryloth, or Sevarcos,” Veratil explained. “And we are the only facility that offers such variety of spice. Buyers frequently wish to purchase several different kinds of spice for their customers, and we provide that.”
Han saw figures entering and leaving the factory buildings. Many humans, some nonhumans. He recognized Twi’leks, Rodians, Gamorreans, Devaronians, Sullustans … and there were others that were unknown to him. All the humans and bipedal aliens wore tan-colored robes that came down below their knees and tan-colored caps that covered their hair.
He gestured at the people. “Factory workers?”
The Sacredot hesitated, then said, “They are the pilgrims that have chosen to serve the Oneness, the All, in our factories.”
“Oh,” Han murmured. “I see.”
He saw a lot of things, now, more and more clearly each instant. And he had a bad feeling about what he was seeing, These pilgrims come here to attain religious sanctuary, and wind up working in spice factories.
I smell a vrelt–a dead one.
The Ylesian sun was far down in the sky by now, almost to the horizon.
Han noticed that throngs of tan-clad workers were streaming northeast, toward the mountains. Veratil beckoned Han with one undersized hand.
“It is time for the blessed pilgrims to attend devotions and to be
Exulted in the One, render their prayers to the All. Let us take the Path of Oneness to reach the Altar of Promises. Come, Pilot Draygo.”
Han obediently followed the priest up a well-worn paved path. Even though they were surrounded by pilgrims, Han noticed that no one ventured very close to them. All of the pilgrims gave Veratil deep bows, hands folded over their hearts. “They offer thanks for the Exultation they are about to receive,” Veratil explained to Han as they walked along.
As they moved away from the buildings, the jungle around them closed in, until the path they were walking on was shadowed and overhung with giant branches. Han almost felt as though he were walking in a tunnel.