“That will be fine. Can I … look around a bit? I’d like to check out the lay of the land.”
Teroenza inclined his massive head. “Certainly, as long as Muuurgh accompanies you, and you follow all safety regulations while touring the factories.”
“Of course,” Han agreed.
Teroenza bowed slightly. “If you will excuse me, we are expecting a shipment of pilgrims to come down from our orbiting space station this morning. I have much to do as I prepare to welcome them.”
Han nodded, thinking about what lay ahead for those pilgrims. He knew that mining spice was considered dangerous, an extremely unpleasant duty—matter of fact, being sent to the spice mines of Kessel was a common punishment for felons—but he knew very little about what happened to the spice once it was mined.
Well, he intended to find out. Maybe there was some way he could turn this situation even more to his advantage. You never knew … and it never paid to leave stones unturned. In Han Solo’s book, knowledge frequently led to power–or at least to a faster escape …
Muuurgh led Han up a paved path through the jungle, until they reached a large, very modern building. “Administration Center,” the Togorian said, indicating the building.
The “bodyguard” led Han around to a side entrance, and then down a corridor until he reached a door. “You, Muuurgh, sleep here,” he said, opening the door.
Inside was a small suite consisting of a bedroom, refresher unit, and a small sitting room. Han was pleased to see that Teroenza had been mindful of the terms of the contract. In one corner of the bedroom was a fully equipped sim unit. Muuurgh walked to the door of the bedroom and waved a clawed hand at it. “Yours. Pilot sleep here.”
“But where will you sleep?” Han asked.
As expected, Muuurgh indicated the sitting room. “Muuurgh here.”
Great, Han said. These priests don’t trust me any more than I trust them. With Muuurgh sleeping between me and the door to the outside, I’d be taking a big chance trying to sneak out at night. Just great.
“That doesn’t look very comfortable to me,” Han said, doing his best imitation of wide-eyed innocence. Inwardly, he was wondering whether Muuurgh was a sound sleeper. “Maybe you should get a room of your own, so you could sleep comfortably.”
“Muuurgh most comfortable when he is keeping word of honor,” the Togorian said. Han stared at the catlike being. Had he glimpsed a flash of humor in those bluegreen eyes with their slitted pupils?
“Muuurgh give word of honor to watch Pilot always, so Muuurgh most comfortable here.” Han nodded. “Right.”
He stared for a moment at the blaster in the Togorian’s holster. “I had a blaster when I came here, but I don’t know where it is, now,” he commented. “I guess I’ll need to ask about getting it back.”
“Pilot not need blaster.” Muuurgh flexed his fingers and the retractable claws popped out. “High Priest say Pilot not need blaster.”
“But what if I get attacked by some kind of … predator?” Han waved at the omnipresent jungle outside the building. There were probably dozens of predators who might enjoy hunting an offworlder, either for food or fun.
The giant alien shook his whiskered head. “Never happen. Pilot have Muuurgh, who has blaster.”
“Uh … that’s true,” Han said. Mentally, he made a note to ask Teroenza for some kind of weapon. He felt naked without one, even after only having had one for a couple of days.
“So, Muuurgh, shall we go exploring?” Han asked. “I don’t have any baggage to unpack, as you can see.”
“Explore where?” the Togorian asked.
“I’d like to tour the factories,” Han said. “And this Administration Center.”
“Fine,” the Togorian said. “Come, Pilot.”
“Right behind you,” Han said, suiting his action to his words.
They walked the corridors of the Administration Center, glanced in at the mess hall, toured the guards’ wing, and peeked at the priests’ quarters.
When Han caught a glimpse of the Armory, he realized that the Ylesian priests must be afraid of a pilgrim uprising, because the percentage of guards to workers was high. The Armory boasted a lot of heavyduty riot control armament—force pikes and stun gas. The guards they met came from many different worlds. Besides humans, Han saw Rodians, Sullustans, Twi’leks, and porcine Gamorreans.
“So let me get this straight,” he said to Muuurgh as they skirted an area in the Administration Center that signs in many languages identified as RESTRICTED ACCESS. “The guards all sleep here most of the time? But why don’t they sleep near the pilgrims’ dormitory if the priests want to make sure the workers stay under control?”