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By Root 1153 0

of high ground surrounded by stun fencing. Isolated from the rest of the facility, twenty or so Ithorians could be seen going about their business in open-sided, thatch-roofed pavilions. To one side deep drainage ditches separated them from a waddle of Gamorreans, who were living in bungalows made of sun-baked bricks. To the other side, beyond a wall of thorned shrubs, a rumpus of Wookiees had constructed a log tree house.

Deeper in the camp things were even worse. The mud that had been a nuisance earlier on became ankle-deep for long stretches, and the shelters—a ghetto of unroofed sheds and slat-sided shanties—clustered at the base of a hill that saw scant sunlight and funneled runoff rainwater directly into the food distribution area. In place of prefab tents and blister huts stood hovels more suitable for livestock than sentients. Here a trove of resourceful hollow-boned Vors had made use of starship maneuvering vanes to construct a kind of stilted bower for themselves; and there a nest of batrachian Rybet had fashioned a spacious hutch from empty cargo crates and support pylons off Y-wing engine nacelles.

Nearly everyone else was living in filth.

A new stench in the air told Melisma that they were nearing the communal refreshers. “Maybe it’s only when there’s no wind,” Gaph remarked.

“Then maybe we should petition climate supervision to whip up a hurricane,” Melisma said from behind the hand she’d clamped over her mouth.

As promised, just past the refreshers was Section 465, announced by a sign, to which someone had added the words Ryn City.

More than half the thirty-two were on hand to greet Gaph and Melisma’s quintet as they trudged into a courtyard that might have struck some as uncommonly sanitary but was in fact normal for the Ryn, who were by nature almost ritualistic about order and cleanliness.

The leader among the ensconced group, a tall male named R’vanna, welcomed them with bowls of tasty Ryn food and a slew of questions about the circumstances that had brought them to Ruan. Gaph started at the very beginning, explaining how they had just fled the Corporate Sector when their caravan of ships had been set upon by a Yuuzhan Vong patrol. Scattered far and wide as a result of emergency hyperspace jumps, many had ended up at Ord Mantell’s Jubilee Wheel, where they had been caught up in another Yuuzhan Vong attack. Refugees by then, some had found transport to Bilbringi, others to Rhinnal, and still others to Gyndine.

Then R’vanna told his story, which, while it began in the Tion Hegemony, had much in common with Gaph’s tale of woe.

One of the women showed Melisma and her cousins to a dormitory. Leaving the infant in the care of her cousins, Melisma rejoined Gaph and R’vanna, who was in the midst of painting a vivid picture of life in Facility 17.

“Though water is rarely a problem—our overseers simply create rainstorms as needed—food shortages have begun to occur on a regular basis and disease is rampant. The diseases could easily be eradicated, of course, and Ruan is capable of supplying all the food needed just from what the labor droids allow to rot in or on the ground, but it’s to Salliche Ag’s advantage that everyone in camp remain as miserable as possible.”

“How is that to Salliche’s advantage?” Melisma asked. “And why would Princess Leia praise the company for its unconditional generosity if we’re a burden to everyone?”

“Salliche is desirous of refugees, child, but not for the camps. They want us in the fields.”

“As workers?”

“Of a sort.” R’vanna paused to tap a wad of charred t’bac from the bowl of a hand-carved pipe. “The New Republic is genuinely committed to relocating everyone to populous worlds, but with the war and all, the chances of relocation are slim—even though you won’t hear mention of this in the familiarization classes.”

“Familiarization?” Melisma said. “For what?”

“Why, to prepare us for our new lives among the civilized peoples of the Core. You’ll soon see for yourself. But as I say, chances are slim. Some of those living on Noob Hill can afford to purchase forward passage