"You're planning to sneak in disguised as slaves?" Amir asked.
"Of course not. I was joking," Seneir replied with a grin. "Oba Diah isn't only Pykes. There's a pretty lively spaceport too. A lot of things people can't move openly will circulate there."
"Of course," he added, "the Pykes are still the majority."
"You'd better tell me whatever you're still hiding. Now."
"Heh. Nothing. Really nothing," Seneir said. "From here, you just follow me and we quietly slip into the Pyke base. Start thinking about how to carry credits."
"Your friend No. 32 stays on the ship. He'll be our pickup."
"Understood," No. 32 replied.
Once all three were secured in their seats, Amir launched the Traveler and followed the plotted course toward Oba Diah.
After some time, the ship arrived above Oba Diah. At a glance, the whole planet was shrouded in a blue-gray haze—blue-gray clouds, blue-gray ground.
The experimental base on Mugul had been similar in color, but this blue-gray felt… rotten. It made the skin crawl.
But the Pykes favored this environment.
The blue-gray mist was like spice made visible, drifting through the air.
Decay was the result they pursued.
As the leading criminal syndicate in spice smuggling, the Pykes understood exactly how harmful the substance was. And yet most of them couldn't resist its lure—they became spice users themselves.
The difference was that Pykes never lacked spice. They didn't have to destroy themselves trying to obtain it. It was always within reach.
So their indulgence had no bottom.
Of course, that was only true for some Pykes.
But on Oba Diah, almost every Pyke belonged to that "some."
Blue-gray fog filled the mountain valleys. Down below were bare stone slopes and streams that were nearly dry.
Through the viewport, Amir saw a massive complex clinging to a nearby mountainside—sharp spires like a jagged peak that refused to bow. At the base of the complex stretched long rectangular platforms where cargo ships could dock and transfer goods.
The Traveler made no effort to hide. It flew straight into the port, found an open berth, and landed.
Stepping off the ship, Amir couldn't help marveling again at how vast the galaxy was—and how numerous life was.
You could arrive at any city or station and see rivers of people, countless species Amir had never seen, speaking languages he'd never heard.
Everyone had their own life. Their own story—beautiful, painful, surprising…
Countless stories gathered like fireflies, forming a soul. And every soul was a unique treasure.
Some souls were, frankly, unbearable to look at—but even then, you could still be stirred by something, and those small stirrings became fireflies too, quietly becoming part of you.
Amir liked quiet, but he didn't hate lively places. He didn't hate talking with people.
"This is holy ground for anyone obsessed with spice," Seneir said, drawing in a deep breath with a blissful expression. "These wasteful Pykes even sprinkle spice into the air."
"You like this stuff too?" Amir asked, watching him.
"Heh. I never touch anything that damages the body," Seneir said quickly. "And it's expensive. There are better things to spend credits on."
He coughed twice, like the air had irritated him.
"Sir, want a bit? High-purity goods," a Duros peddler said, moving close. From inside his loose shirt he produced a bottle filled with golden powder that glittered like crystals.
Seneir stepped next to Amir and spoke to the Duros with a mocking tone. "Heh. That's not high purity. You mixed in glow-worm residue and you're trying to pass it off as premium. That only tricks inexperienced teenagers."
As expected, the Duros panicked. His eyes darted around. He didn't even try to argue—he shoved the bottle back into his clothes and fled.
"You sure you've never touched it? Then why do you know so much?" Amir asked.
"Heh… when I was young, I was curious," Seneir admitted awkwardly. "I quit a long time ago."
Amir thought: damn. Squid-face has real willpower.
"Actually," Amir said, remembering, "I've got a whole crate of refined spice on my ship. Supposedly premium."
"You have how much?!" Seneir spun around.
"Uh… a crate?" Amir said.
"Refined premium—where's it from?" Seneir pressed.
"Hoth. Purified from some kind of fungus," Amir recalled.
"You don't mean Lommni spice, do you?" Seneir went dreamy. "Oh, I love it."
"…Want some?" Amir offered. He had no idea what to do with it. Selling it would hurt people, and Amir wasn't going to do that. But he wouldn't mind "hurting" Seneir.
"No, no," Seneir sighed. "And I can't afford it anyway. Do you know what a crate is worth?"
"I don't track market prices," Amir said. He only knew it was probably valuable.
"On the black market, Lommni spice is basically priceless," Seneir explained. "Production is tiny. Almost no one knows the source. I only heard rumors—some desperate types reached the place and secretly harvested a little to sell. The only thing anyone's sure of is that, in the last two years, a pirate crew has controlled the source. A lot of underworld bosses have been scammed out of huge money by those pirates, but they still can't resist—they keep buying."
As Seneir talked, Amir realized something. "So the intel about this spice base came from those pirates."
"That's why I guessed it was Lommni," Seneir said, rubbing his tentacles. "A crate of that can buy you a whole building on Coruscant."
"A building?!" Amir was genuinely shocked.
"Heh." Seneir's voice softened into a devil's whisper. "Grab a handful out of that crate and you can buy an apartment in the absolute core of Coruscant. A whole crate? You tell me."
Amir had expected it to be valuable, but when the value became concrete, it still sent a ripple through him.
Only a ripple. He already had plenty of credits. The spice could stay locked away.
"I know you don't want to sell it," Seneir said. "You've got principles. You're kind, you have empathy. But I don't. I don't have a conscience. Give it to me. I'll sell it, and we split ninety-ten."
He wore that sleazy grin again.
"Get out of here," Amir said, refusing. "Maybe if I'm starving to death someday, I'll consider it."
"I wasn't joking," Seneir insisted. "Even if you sold it, only the richest people could buy it. You know what their morals and behavior are like, so you don't need to feel guilty."
"Someone told me the same thing once," Amir said.
"And what did you say?" Seneir asked.
Amir just shook his head.
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STAR WARS: RELICS OF THE PAST
🌌⚔️ STAR WARS: RELICS OF THE PAST ⚔️🌌
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📢 THE FORCE CALLS AGAIN! 📢
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Ancient secrets, forgotten relics, Jedi echoes, and buried truths wait in the shadows of the galaxy.
✨ Some things were lost for a reason.⚔️ Some powers should never be awakened.🌌 And some stories begin long after history tried to erase them.
Follow the trail of ancient relics before the rest of the galaxy catches up.
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