Star Wars_ The Han Solo Trilogy 03_ Rebel Dawn - A. C. Crispin [32]
But no. Durga had emerged (at least for the moment) with a shaky victory, and had promptly announced that Teroenza must adhere to all of Aruk’s directives.
Including teaching Kibbick, Durga’s idiot cousin, how to manage a top-level credit-making enterprise.
Here on Ylesia, religious “Pilgrims” were recruited by t’landa Til missionaries during traveling revival shows. Anyone unfortunate enough to fall prey to the addictive Exultation would follow the Ylesian missionaries to the steaming jungle planet. There the malnourished, brainwashed and addicted Pilgrims became willing slaves in the Ylesian spice factories, toiling from sunup to sundown for their Ylesian masters.
Teroenza’s people were distant cousins of the Hutt s, though they were far smaller and more mobile. With their huge bodies balanced on trunklike legs, the t’landa Til had a broad face that rather resembled a Hutt’s countenance, but with the addition of a single long horn just above their nostrils. A long, whip-like tail was carried curled over their backs. Their arms and hands were tiny and weak compared to the rest of them.
The most interesting feature of the t’landa Til males, however, was not physical. They possessed the ability to project empathic “feel-good” emotions at most humans. These empathic projections, coupled with a soothing vibration produced in the males’ throat sacs, was like a jolt of a powerful drug to the Pilgrims. They quickly became addicted to their daily “fix” and believed that the Priests were divinely gifted.
Nothing was further from the truth, however. The t’landa Til’s ability was simply an adaptation of a male mating display, evolutionarily developed to attract t’landa Til females.
“Teroenza,” Kibbick said fretfully, “I don’t understand this. It says that we spent thousands of credits for a fertility-inhibitor that’s placed in the slaves’ gruel. Why can’t we eliminate most of that? Can’t we just let them breed? It would save credits, wouldn’t it?”
Teroenza rolled his bulbous eyes, but Kibbick fortunately wasn’t looking. “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