THE PARADISE SNARE(33)

Tell me about your world.”

Muuurgh obediently launched into a description of Togoria, a world where males and females, though equal, did not mix their societies.

Males lived a nomadic hunting existence, flying over the plains on their huge, domesticated flying reptiles, called “mosgoths.” They hunted in packs.

The females, on the other hand, had domesticated animals for meat, so they did not need to hunt. They lived in cities and villages, and it was the female Togorians who had developed all of the planet’s technology.

“Well, if your people don’t live together, how do you”—Han searched for a polite term—”uh … get together, you know, to … uh …

reproduce?” “We travel to city to stay with our mates once each year,” Muuurgh said.

“Betweentimes, we think often of each other. Togorians very emotional people, capable of great love,” he added earnestly. “Especially males.

Great love is why Muuurgh is here. Males of my species rarely leave our world, does Pilot know that?”

“I do now,” Han said. “So … Muuurgh … when you say great love made you come to Ylesia, what do you mean? Do you have a mate?”

The Togorian nodded. “Promised mate. Someday be mated for life, if Muuurgh can but find her.” The huge alien sighed, looking so woeful that Han felt sorry for him.

“What’s her name?”

“Mrrov. Beautiful, beautiful Mrrov. As Togorian females do, she decided to take look at big galaxy. Muuurgh begged her not to go, but females very stubborn.”

The alien looked at Han, who nodded. “Yeah, I’ve run into that myself.”

“Mrrov gone long time, years. When she not come home to be mated, Muuurgh so sad that he cannot stay on Togoria. Must discover what happened to her.”

“So … did you?” Han took a sip of his Polanis ale. “Muuurgh traced her, from world to world to world.” “And?” Han prompted when the Togorian paused.

“And Muuurgh lost her. Someone on Ord Mantell said he saw her board ship at spaceport. Muuurgh check schedules, find out ship had many pilgrims on board. Several ports of call for ship. Muuurgh take chance, come here, because so many pilgrims come here.” The big felinoid sighed heavily and nibbled on a meat-dripping bone. “Gamble no good. Muuurgh ask, priests say no Togorians here. Muuurgh not know where else to go. Muuurgh need credits to continue search …” The alien swallowed a last bite, and his whiskers actually drooped.

“So you decided to take a job as a guard here, while you got enough money to go on searching,” Han said, guessing at the logical end of the story.

“Yessss …”

Han shook his head. “That’s sad, pal. I hope you find her, I really do.

It’s tough to lose people that you love.”

The bodyguard nodded.

After lunch, they headed down to the factories and walked around the huge buildings. Han sniffed the air, smelling the odor of the different spices mingling. His nose tingled slightly, and he wondered if just smelling the spice could be intoxicating. He waved at the glitterstim building. “Let’s go inside. I’ve heard about how they process this spice, and I’d like to see it for myself.”

When they walked into the cavernous building, a guard stopped them and conferred with Muuurgh, who explained who Han was. The Rodian guard on duty gave them badges and infrared goggles, then waved them on in.

“Goggles?” Han said in Rodian. He understood the language perfectly, but his pronunciation was a bit laborious. “We have to wear them?”

The guard’s purple eyes sparkled at hearing a human speak his language.

“Yes, Pilot Draygo,” he said. “Below the ground floor, there are no visible lights permitted. You take the turbolift down. Each level down represents a one-grade increase in the quality of the spice. The longest and best fibers are processed far below ground, to eliminate any possibility of their being ruined by light.”

“Okay,” Han said, beckoning to Muuurgh. The two walked between aisles of supplies, to reach the platform turbolift in the center of the facility.

“Let’s go all the way down and see the really good stuff,” he said to the Togorian. Privately, Han was wondering whether he might be able to light-finger some of those tiny black vials. Selling a little glitterstim on the side in a port city would increase his credit account by leaps and bounds …

Han pushed the button for the bottom floor, and the platform, swaying slightly, started down.

Cool air wafted up from the depths as the turbolift went down in pitch-darkness. The draft felt wonderful after the humid heat of the Ylesian jungle.