Narrator: From a couple hundred thousand klicks away the planet Yoming looks like a paradise.
Narrator: Of course, any inhabited planet looks like paradise froma distance, assuming the one doing the looking has evolved an aesthetic sense in keeping with principles of survival.
Narrator: Races who think smog, slash-and-burn tracks, mushroom clouds, glass craters, and pustulent, diseased flesh are pretty tend tocosmetically select against themselves with dramatic effect. It's cool to watch, but not pretty.
Narrator: The Yomingans seem sensible enough up close. Even their selfish genes got sensible, and put a hand right where living hand-to-mouth could be simplified.
Narrator: Like most sensible sophonts they invented civilization.
Narrator: With civilization came civilty, civil service, and of course civil war.
Narrator: They're in the middle of one right now.
Benninyninji: I want some protection!
Hunnig: The army is defending critical facilities, sir. We can't spare troops to guard your store.
Benninyninji: That mob of Prandialists is less than a day out! What's a helpless merchant to do?
Hunnig: Spend some money and hire help.
Benninyninji: But all the affordable mercenaries are gone!
Hunnig: Actually, most of them are dead. You get what you pay for.
Benninyninji: Fine. I'll hire the best mercenaries in the galaxy!
Narrator: Nope. Go ahead and guess who he hires instead.