Doog: “Welcome to another special edition episode of LIU Atlas. I’m your host, Terrance “Doog” McDoogal. We’re still checking out the planet, Nexui, but today we are focusing on Nexui’s capital, Aurelia. I’ve traveled two hours north from the Liora Estate, and the city is coming into view.”

Doog: “During these special edition episodes, we like to focus on culture instead of the economy. However, while we make the approach into Aurelia, I’m going to quickly sum up the city’s economy while showing some stock footage. Aurelia is the galaxy’s only manufacturer of Nexovane, a shimmering, soft fabric. It is shipped to Aurelia from the neighboring estates in its liquid form, Nexorin. Only under the strictest control is it processed into Nexovane.”

Doog: “Nexovane fabric isn’t exported in its raw form. It is sent to expert artisanal tailors here in Aurelia. They safely dye and form the fabric with their years of expertise. It is then sold to luxury garment manufacturers in Aurelia, where it is turned into some of the galaxy’s most expensive and fashionable clothing.”

Doog: “Alright folks, I’m in the city, and I’ve met up with part of the crew.”
Mike: “I can’t believe I’m in the galaxy’s fashion capital!”
Seitse: “I could spend a fortune here.”
Doog: “I didn’t realize how many businesses could revolve around fashion. Every place we’ve passed has been some type clothing store or dye shop. I even saw a place selling Nexovane dog collars.”
Mike: “I bet they even eat clothing in this city.”
Amaya: “Probably not, but speaking of clothing, we need to find something for Doog to wear.”
Doog: “What’s wrong with what I’m wearing?”
Seitse: “You’ve been wearing it all day, and you’re sweaty.”
Amaya: “It has no sleeves.”
Mike: “It smells.”
Doog: “And?”

Amaya: “And? We’re going to one of the planet’s biggest fashion shows! There will be a lot of reporters there, and LIU Atlas needs some good exposure. You can’t walk in looking like that.”
Doog: “Alright, alright.”
Amaya: “We don’t have much in the budget for anything too fancy, especially after Mike, Seitse, and I got new outfits. But I think we might be able to find something good enough at this place.”
Doog: “‘Where are my pants’? You guys get nice, new clothes, but I’m expected to shop at ‘Where are my pants?’!”
Mike: “It doesn’t look too bad.”
Amaya: “It’s a discount shop. Some stuff is marked down 70%. We might be able to find something nice.”
Doog: “Sigh.”

Zed: “Welcome customers. I am Zed the Cyborg Fashion Assistant. Can I help you find your pants? If my spectral scanner is correct, you look like a 42X30. We have many varieties in that size.”
Doog: “First off, I’m way smaller than that. I’m easily a 38X30.”
Zed: “Ah, of course. You must be an under the belly guy that likes them tight. Got it. We have pants in that size as well.”
Doog: “Uh, yeah. What about suits though?”

Zed: “Suits are another story, I’m afraid. We don’t fully stock the store with suits. We’re definitely more focused on pants. The only suits you’ll find here are in the discount bin over there.”
Doog: “I guess I’ll start rummaging through it.”
Zed: “Let me save you some time. I calculate that only one suit in the bin will meet your size requirements…”

Doog: “I can’t believe this is the only suit they had in my size! I look like an idiot.”
Mike: “I wouldn’t say idiot, but radioactive banana comes to mind.”
Seitse: “Construction worker chic, if you ask me.”
Amaya: “Quit it, you two. He looks great…well, better than he did.”
Mike: “If you ever get out of the TV business, you’d make a good…”

Mike: “…Eggs-treme mascot. You already have the suit for it.”
Doog: “Shut it, Mike!”

Doog: “Whoa, that’s a big building.”
Mike: “So tall and fancy, I wonder what it is?”
Seitse: “You guys really don’t recognize this building or that emblem?”
Amaya: “Yeah, seriously. This is the headquarters of one of the most well-known brands in the galaxy.”
Doog: “Holo-porn HQ?”
Amaya: “What?! No! Think of clothing.”
Mike: “We don’t know anything about clothing, especially Doog. I mean…look at him.”
Amaya: “Sigh. This is the headquarters of Quotidien.”
Doog: “Quotidien?”

Amaya: “Yeah, they’re a popular luxury clothing brand.”
Seitse: “They focus on everyday fashion, so think more like cute, daily outfits than fancy, formal dresses or suits.”
Doog: “I should have gotten something here instead of looking like a pencil.”
Amaya: “Yeah, right. We couldn’t afford socks from this place.”
Doog: “I thought you said it was everyday clothing?”
Seitse: “Everyday for the rich and elite.”
Amaya: “Most of it is pure Nexovane.”

Mike: “Look, the building even has a runway coming out of it.”
Seitse: “Yeah, they do nonstop fashion shows.”
Doog: “There’s another even higher! That has to be fifty or more floors up!”
Seitse: “That’s for the hovercars that drive by.”
Doog: “I wouldn’t want that job. I’m getting freaked out just looking at it up there.”
Amaya: “Fun fact, Quotidien only uses the Modocycla race as models. They were voted best looking race by ranked-choice-voting.”
Doog: “I didn’t understand most of that, but someone out there might get some value out of it.”
Mike: “Yeah, not very fun with all the big words thrown in there.”

Amaya: “Alright, we’re finally here, Aurelia’s Grand Gallery. This place is home to the galaxy’s biggest fashion shows.”
Seitse: “There’s a show here at least once a week.”
Amaya: “Yes, but we’re here for one of the biggest of the year. BLUE IS IN by the designer Briene Arcovis!”
Seitse: “Yes!”
Doog: “You guys are way more excited than me – I’m dreading this. I didn’t know there would be so many cameras. The whole galaxy is going to see this monstrous suit!”
Amaya: “Oh, relax. These cameras aren’t here for you or I. They’re trying to catch celebrities.”
Doog: “Uh, I am a celebrity.”
Seitse: “Something tells me that you’re not on par with these other celebrities. I mean, that’s Rosa Chessi and Rhett Targar in front of us.”
Doog: “I’ve never heard of either. They can’t be that famous.”

Kelly: “Ok, Bert. Next up we have super-couple Rhett Targar and Rosa Chessi. The Bullan heartthrob, Rhett, won best actor this year after his spectacular performance in the war film, Between Galaxies.”
Bert: “Rosa knows all about that award, Kelly…being a three-time winner herself. Right now, she’s focusing on music, with her debut album, Let Her Cook, releasing next month. Digital pre-sales of the highly anticipated album are already setting records.”

Doog: “Ok, they might be a tiny bit more famous than me.”
Mike: “Just a bit.”
Doog: “Oh man, we’re next! I’m freaking out!”

Kelly: “Let’s see, who’s next. Ah, yes. It’s none other than Amaya Moneta, granddaughter of shipping tycoon, Myrna Moneta. Amaya is associate producer of a show called LIU Atlas. It looks like she brought some of crew as well. How nice.”
Bert: “Wait, I think I recognize that guy in the front, as well. Yeah, I definitely saw him before. He was at the spaceport when we landed. He was directing flights on the runway.”
Kelly: “Those were traffic cones, Bert.”
Bert: “Oh…”

Doog: “I hate my life right now.”
Amaya: “You’ll be fine. Forget about it and watch the show.”
Doog: “Not only did he not recognize me as a TV Host, he confused me with a traffic cone!”

Doog: “Shop at ‘Where are my Pants’, Doog. They’ll have something great, you said. We need you to look good for our show, you said. How did that look good for the show!”
Amaya: “It’s been twenty minutes, Doog. Get over it. Everything will be fine.”
Seitse: “You’re so worked up about a fifteen second comment from someone you don’t even know, that you’re missing the show.”

Doog: “I wouldn’t say I’m ‘missing’ anything. It’s just people wearing blue!”
Mike: “I bet you wish the theme was bright light orange.”
Doog: “Exactly. I wearing the exact opposite of cool right now.”

Announcer: “Sinja’s cape is pure Aranea Sericon silk with handstitched Nexovane snowflakes. It’s sure to be a hit on ice worlds. Look at that shine! Give us a spin Sinja!”
Crowd: “Ooh, ahh.”
Doog: “It’s a blue cape! Who cares!”

Amaya: “You better stop shouting and hating on everything. Not only are you embarrassing us, you’re going to get in trouble! These elites don’t play around.”
Doog: “I’d rather be in jail than watch this blue parade in this stupid suit.”
Amaya: “Ok, fine. Every time you make a negative comment, I’m forcing you to wear that suit for an episode.”
Doog: “You wouldn’t.”
Amaya: “Watch me.”

Doog: “That outfit is….so great…. hooray.”
Amaya: “That’s what I thought.”
Doog: “Sigh.”

Doog: “Well folks, that’s the city of Aurelia. This whole city is devoted to fashion. They make clothes, design clothes, and sell clothes. You can buy fabric, dyes, shoes, and any accessory imaginable. Some of the biggest luxury brands are based out of Aurelia. This fashion capital sets galactic trends and showcases the newest fashion. Although most of the galaxy could never pay for the luxury stuff, you can bet that people across the galaxy are going to be wearing more blue clothing for a while. Oh well, I guess I’m just going to sit here and shut up, I don’t ever want to wear this suit again. See ya!”
 
 
Note: This is the 1,200th time BLUE has been IN this decade. Fads flip quick in a galaxy of trillions.

Doog: “Welcome to another episode of LIU Atlas. I’m your host, Terrance “Doog” McDoogal. Today, we are visiting an important Mid-Rim world called Nexui. Nexui is classified as an agricultural planet, but it doesn’t produce any edible crops. Instead, the natives of Nexui raise a local creature that they harvest for biological matter. What is this matter? I have no idea. I hope it’s something like meat, milk, or wool, and not something you’d find in a crusty, old sock. The only way to find out is to head on down. Let’s do this.”

Doog: “Alright folks, I’ve been dropped off on the surface of Nexui. It appears I’m in some type of orchard or growing field. That pretty much contradicts my intro. I thought the natives didn’t produce any edible crops. Also, I don’t see any sign of the aforementioned creatures that are harvested. I do see some locals though, and it’s freaking me out. I’ve been told the life on Nexui are mammalian-insects. It’s the last part that I’m worried about…I’m terrified of insects. The ratio of mammal to insect is going to greatly determine my time here. Please be mostly mammal!”

Doog: “Uh, hello there.”
Native: “Greetings.”
Doog: “So, I see you guys have two arms and two legs. That’s good. Very mammalian of you.”
Native: “I’m not sure how to respond to that.”
Doog: “On a scale of 1-10, how much do you enjoy ruining picnics?”
Native: “Are you having a stroke? What are you talking about?”
Doog: “I’m just trying to determine how much of an insect you are. You know, so I know how scared to be.”
Native: “Currently, you’re much more terrifying than me. Who approaches a stranger with such nonsensical questions?”
Doog: “Noted, but I still need some kind of answer.”
Native: “Technically, my race is neither mammalian nor insectoid. We are a unique clade of beings that doesn’t fit any classical LIU grouping. We share characteristics of both mammals and insects, so we’ve been deemed ‘mammalian-insectoids’.”
Doog: “That doesn’t really help. I heard lots of mentions of insects in your response.”
Native: “Sigh, the only parts of me that are ‘insect’ are my hardened-chitin exoskeleton and my breathing spiracles.”
Doog: “Ah, that makes me feel better.”
Native: Can you please go away now? You’re really frightening me.”

Xylo: “That’s no way to speak to our distinguished guest.”
Native: “Sorry, Sovereign It’s just that he approached me speaking about picnics and arms. It was…”
Xylo: “THAT is all. I shall take it from here. Doog, welcome to Nexui, specifically the Liora Estate. I am Xylo. This is my mate, Zyra. Together, we form the Sovereign Pair.”
Doog: “The Sovereign Pair? What’s that?”
Xylo: “We are the dual leaders of this estate and its population.”
Doog: “I see. So, were you guys elected or are you the highest members of some royal family?”
Zyra: “Neither. The title of Sovereign Pair, and its duties, pass to the longest bonded pair within the estate. Xylo and I have been bonded for thirty cycles.”
Doog: “Interesting. So, if something would happen to one of you, you’d be dethroned.”
Xylo: “Well, we don’t have a throne, but yes. If either of should pass into the afterworld, we would be replaced by the next highest bonded pair.”
Doog: “That’s got to be tough, losing your mate and your job at the same time.”
Zyra: “We dread such a scenario, but it is the way of our people. A Sovereign Pair gets its strength from both participants’ knowledge and experience. To lose half of that, would diminish the remaining’s ability to lead effectively.”
Doog: “Makes sense to me.”

Doog: “What doesn’t make sense, is all the farming going on. I thought you guys raised some type of creature, not food.”
Xylo: “That is a typical misconception. Galactically, our only important good is Nexovane, a fabric made from local animals. So, when you research Nexui, that’s all that pops up.”
Zyra: “However, as living beings, we need to grow food to eat as well.”
Doog: “Ah. This is food for your people, not the creatures.”
Zyra: “Yes. Although, the Nexorids would eat it if they could. Hence the fortifications.”
Xylo: “The Nexorids are the creatures we harvest. Their appetite is unsatiable.”
Doog: “That’s what all these walls are for?”
Xylo: “Yes. The estate is divided into two sections that we call Xelaria and Nylaris. We’re currently in Xelaria. It is where you’ll find my people and our crops.”
Zyra: “Nylaris is the pasture-lands. The Nexorids are herded there. Great walls and towers separate the two.”

Doog: “Let me guess…we’re headed into the pasture section.”
Xylo: “Unspoken songs remain unheard.”
Doog: “What?!”
Zyra: “Forgive my mate’s insensitivities, he speaks the sayings of my people, forgetting that you would not comprehend. Yes, we head for the Nylaris.”
Xylo: “Forgive me. I became too comfortable, Doog. Guards, open the gates.”

Doog: “Okay, they are way bigger than I expected.  They only have four legs, though, so I’m not too scared just yet.”
Zyra: “Do not fear the Nexorids. They pose no threat.”
Doog: “So, you say. I have one question, though. On a scale of 1-10, how likely are the Nexorids to fly recklessly around a light at night?”
Xylo: “They do not fly.”
Doog: “Ok, let’s try again. On a scale of 1-10, how likely are the Nexorids to hide in a shoe?”
Xylo: “I do not believe they would fit in most shoes. So, I’d say one.”
Doog: “Dang it. This isn’t working. How insect-like are the Nexorids?”
Zyra: “They share similar biology to our own. They are warm-blooded, quadrupeds, covered in fur. They do have a chitin exoskeleton, disjointed mandibles, and breathing spiracles, like us.”
Doog: “I see. Well, you guys have been cool, so far, so if these things are similar, I guess I’m alright.”
Zyra: “As I said earlier, you have nothing to fear. The Nexorids are immeasurably dimwitted. Since you’re not food, they don’t even know you exist.”
Xylo: “Great size often accompanies a gentle simplicity.”
Zyra: “Another proverb, Xylo?”
Xylo: “Oh yeah, I forgot again. Sorry.”

Zyra: “The Nexorids are simple. They eat until they have enough energy to mate.”
Xylo: “That usually takes about three weeks.”
Zyra: “The Nexorid then finds another nutritionally gratified member of the opposite sex to mate.”
Doog: “Eating and mating. What a life!”
Zyra: “Both males and females possess spinnerets. They weave a nesting structure and deposit their genetic material. Their brood emerges weeks later.”
Xylo: “That’s what those spikes are for. It helps the hatched Nexorids to tear out of the Nexovane nesting structure.”
Zyra: “Nexovane is strong.”
Xylo: “Yet, soft.”
Zyra: “And exceptionally beautiful.”
Xylo: “Due to its iridescence.”

Doog: “So, you guys harvest old nests?”
Xylo: “No, nests are dirty and impure. Excuse me for offering another Nexui adage, but ‘Untouched, clear essence breeds the truest cloth.’ Essentially, pure Nexovane is worth its weight in hyper-rubies, while the nest stuff is worth as little as Laniger Wool.”
Zyra: “To get the purest product, we herd hunger-quenched Nexorids to a collection facility.” 

Xylo: “With a little poking and prodding…”
Zyra: “…and some pheromones…”
Xylo: “…we provoke the Nexorids into collection harnesses.”
Doog: “Where does this fabric come from?”
Zyra: “Again, not fabric. Not at this point. We harvest the protein that’s makes Nexovane directly from the source – their spinnerets.”
Xylo: “The protein is called Nexorin.”

Doog: “What’s a spinneret?”
Zyra: “It’s the organ where Nexorin is created.”
Xylo: “Specifically, the little spike-like structure on the end of its abdomen.”
Zyra: “It’s important for the harvesting machine to make a perfect seal with the spinneret.”
Xylo: “Oxygen reacts with Nexorin to make Nexovane.”
Zyra: “Meaning, we want it to stay the liquid protein.”
Doog: “Why would it be bad for it to become Nexovane? I thought that’s what you guys are making?”
Xylo: “Nexovane is made on Nexui, but not here. It is much purer, and therefore valuable, if the conversion process is done under controlled conditions.”

Xylo: “Nexorin is pumped from the Nexorids into filtering machines.”
Zyra: “It removes the ever-so-rare impurities.”
Xylo: “It is then pumped outside of the Liora Estate.”
Doog: “Outside?”

Zyra: “Yes, into silos.”
Xylo: “The silos are high-grade. No contaminations are possible.”
Doog: “There’s a desert right outside of the estate?”
Xylo: “A dead zone.”
Zyra: “Created by the LIU.”
Xylo: “Another protection from the ravenous Nexorids.”
Zyra: “Otherwise, escaped Nexorids could compromise other estates.”
Doog: “These things really like to eat, don’t they?”
Zyra: “Without protections, the Nexorids could eat the planet into obscurity. Walls, weapons, and dead zones keep the economy safe.”

Xylo: “Guys like this protect it further.”
Doog: “Is that a gun?”
Xylo: “It most certainly is. He protects the dead zones, killing any escaped Nexorids, but more importantly…”
Zyra: “…he protects the Nexorin silos.”
Xylo: “It is worth a lot.”
Zyra: “More than you’re probably imagining.”

Doog: “Hey, don’t shoot. I’m just a guy doing a TV show.”
Pilot: “Xylo?”
Xylo: “He’s good.”
Pilot: “Ok.”
Xylo: “He needs a lift to Aurelia.”
Pilot: “I’m not due for a transport for a few weeks.”
Xylo: “I have a back-up being transferred to watch the silo. You’re good to go. TV2’s request.”
Pilot: “10-4.”
Xylo: “You’re in good hands, Doog. Enjoy the journey.”
Doog: “Thanks for being mostly mammal, guys. Also, great tour.”

Pilot: “Well, TV2 guy, hop on board and get comfortable. Aurelia is about two hours away, depending on the winds.”
Doog: “I’m a little underprepared. What’s Aurelia?”
Pilot: “Not only is it the capital and export point of Nexui, it’s the galaxy’s fashion capital as well.”
Doog: “Sounds exciting, but I’m a little weary of this craft. Two hours in this thing?”
Pilot: “They trust it enough to transport Nexorin on a regular basis, and it is certainly worth more than you or I.”
Doog: “I’m sold.”

Doog: “Well folks, that’s Nexui – at least, most of it. This world has biologically strange sentients and creatures that don’t fit in a typical category. They’re an amalgam of mammals and insects. Luckily, they’re a bit more mammal. Creatures here, called Nexorids, make an extremely rare and valuable fabric, Nexovane, but it must be processed first. We’ll learn more about that in the second part of this episode. That’s right, we have to check out Aurelia before we close out this planet. Oh well, see ya!”
 
 
Note: Prior to the formation of the LIU, Nexui underwent several famines because of the unchecked movement of Nexorids. Only under corporate control did the estates gain food safety via the dead zones.

Doog: “Welcome to another episode of LIU Atlas. I’m your host, Terrance “Doog” McDoogal. Today, we’re visiting the planet, Mus Cus. Mus Cus is a temperate planet in the galaxy’s Mid Rim. Mus Cus' geography is varied, but it mostly consists of mountains, bogs, and peatlands. We’re interested in those peatlands, so let’s head down and check it out.”

Doog: “Well folks, Cam, my camera man, and I have landed in an industrial spaceport on Mus Cus.”
Cam: “We’re still doing the thing.”
Doog: “In case you missed the last two episodes, we’re letting the crew pick our next few destinations. Some reason, Cam picked this swampy bog planet. It literally smells like a week-old Oldie diaper out here. “
Cam: “I did, and it does smell pretty bad out here.”
Doog: “I expected some of the crew to purposely pick terrible planets, but you, Cam?”
Cam: “Mus Cus has a big plus.”
Doog: “What?”
Cam: “I can’t ruin the surprise. Besides, here comes our guide.”

Russel: “Never in a million cycles did I think I’d get a communique requesting a tour of Mus Cus. It has to be one of the galaxy’s most unremarkable planets.”
Doog: “My pal will have to explain that one.”
Russel: “Hey, I’m not complaining – it’s putting a few extra credits in my pocket. Peat mining isn’t exactly the most lucrative profession. I’m Russel by the way.”
Doog: “Peat mining? What’s peat?”
Russel: “Peat is a special type of soil that’s full of non-decayed organic matter.”
Doog: “Of all the planets in this galaxy, you choose a mud mining planet, Cam?”
Cam: “It’s not mud, it’s peat. Listen to our guide.”
Doog: “Peat just sounds like a slightly fancier mud.”
Russel: “Perhaps it will make more sense out in the field. Follow me.”

Russel: “The peat bogs, or mining fields, used to cover all this land we’re passing. It’s all been harvested.”
Doog: “Are they making or planting more?”
Russel: “That’s not how peat works. Peat is formed naturally over numerous years. Once we harvest it, it’s gone for the next thousand or so years.”
Doog: “I’m not an expert, but that doesn’t sound good in the long term. What happens when you gather it all?”
Russel: “The peat economy ends. Mus Cus can either be abandoned or converted to another economy – like farming or factories.”

Doog: “Folks, we’ve left the road and we’re in some sort of bog or swamp…”
Russel: “Peatlands, actually.”
Doog: “…or that. All I really know is that the smell has increased and my shoes are probably being ruined by this squishy soil.”
Cam: “The smell is probably coming from your shoes. The bog juice might be improving them.”

Russel: “This is it. This is where the peat is mined.”
Doog: “There’s not a cool peat processing mecha or anything? This is just a bulldozer.”
Russel: “It’s all that really needed. Peat is essentially just soil.”
Doog: “How is this going to make a cool episode, Cam!?”
Russel: “There might be one cool thing. Hop down with me.”

Russel: “The peat is only on the top part of the soil. You can see the split here. The dozers have to be precise. If they get to much normal soil, the peat might be ruined.”
Doog: “We have vastly differing definitions of cool”.

Russel: “Ok, what about this? You said you we’re expecting a cool mecha.”
Doog: “This might be a bit better than the bulldozer. What does it do?”

Russel: “It follows behind the bulldozer and rolls up the loose peat into cylinders. It then stacks them to dry in the sun.”
Doog: “A hardsuit for making and baking mud pies?”
Cam: “Mud rolls. Try to listen.”
Doog: “Amaya isn’t going to be happy when we come home with this footage. Our viewership might actually go into the negatives.”
Cam: “Relax. There’s still more.”

Doog: “Alright folks, Russel dropped us off back at the spaceport. We are now in the adjoining city of New Petta. Perhaps things will get more interesting here.”
Cam: “They will.”
Doog: “I mean, it smells better already. Less rotten swamp, more scooter exhaust.”

Doog: “How does a city get this big on a mud mining planet – particularly one that is chewing its way through a nonrenewable resource?”
Cam: “First off, you’re underestimating the peat’s worth. Secondly, this is a big operation. There are thousands of farmers, mechanics, support services, and so on.”
Doog: “What is peat even used for?”
Cam: “Weren’t you listening to Russel on the way back?”
Doog: “Not really.”
Cam: “Peat has many uses, from a fuel source to metallurgy. It has a galactic demand.”

Doog: “Are we finally to the surprise? Is peat burned and inhaled? Is it a drug? You did pick a good planet!”
Cam: “What! No! This is the last stage of production. After being sun dried, it’s taken to slow ovens like this to extract all remaining moisture.”
Doog: “Mud, bulldozers, mud rollers, and dryers…I can hear our fans cheering already.”
Cam: “Quit being dramatic. Let’s head to the surprise.”

Doog: “This is the surprise? Outdoor dining on some shabby table in an alley?”
Cam: “You’ve been so busy bickering about this episode that you’re not using your senses, specifically your nose.”
Doog: *sniff “You’re right. What is that? It’s way, way better than the fields and exhaust.”
Cam: “This restaurant is outside because of the smokers. That smell you’re smelling is smoked meat falling off its bones.”

Cam: “One of peats’ best uses is smoking. The peat logs burn slowly, releasing their earthy smoke. It’s used to make smoke flavor across the galaxy. Of course, you’ll find the best stuff at its direct source, Mus Cus.”

Cam: “Sitting before you is one of the best meals you’ll ever eat – smoked Beemu with a local whisky, called Smoky Pete’s. Its barley is smoke dried with peat, giving it a savory, earthy flavor.”
Doog: “This is amazing. It might really be the best food I’ve ever had. This whiskey is good too.”
Cam: “Told you.”
Doog: “The episode might be boring for everyone else, but this sure was an awesome experience. Good pick, Cam.”
Cam: “Less talking, more eating.”

Doog: “Well folks, that’s Mus Cus. This planet and its export appear pretty boring at first. It’s just a special kind of mud, after all. However, this ‘peat’ can be used in smokers, and it gives food an amazing taste. Let me follow Cam’s advice and start eating. See ya!”
 
 
Note: Peat’s regrowth is very slow, averaging about a millimeter per year. This means that peat extraction on Mus Cus will not be economically viable in about twenty years. Luckily, anaerobic peatlands can be found on several planets. 

Doog: “Welcome to another episode of LIU Atlas. I’m your host, Terrance “Doog” McDoogal. Today, we’re visiting the Mid-Rim planet, Mumia. Mumia’s thick atmosphere and greenhouse gases distribute heat across the planet, allowing for the growth of massive forests and jungles. They literally cover about seventy percent of the planet. Let’s head down and check it out.”

Doog: “Well folks, we’re still doing this thing where the crew gets to pick which planets to visit. Today, we kill two birds with one stone because Amaya and Seitse both picked Mumia. All three of us have been dropped off in the middle of the planet-spanning jungle. As you can see, we’re on some type of elevated walkway that puts us right in the jungle’s canopy. Supposedly, these walkways were built to allow workers to pick the jungle’s fruit easier.”

Doog: “Workers don’t utilize these walkways these days. Instead, they use more-advanced walking platforms – with hydraulic lifts. I’m not sure what they’re picking though.”
Seitse: “Another thoroughly researched planet for our ‘star’ host.”
Doog: “I don’t like how you did the air quotes while saying that, Seitse! Besides, you heard me talking about those lifts. How many things do you want me to memorize about this planet.”
Amaya: “Preferably more than one fact, and definitely the most important one. They grow Mumiya.”
Doog: “You say that like I’m supposed to know what that is.”
Amaya: “My bad. I forgot that you haven’t purposely eaten a healthy thing in your life. Mumiya is a superfruit that’s rich in vitamins and antioxidants.”
Seitse: “Not to mention its taste. Mumiya is one of the most delicious fruits in this galaxy.”

Amaya: “That’s why we picked Mumia. We wanted to experience our favorite fruit the freshest way possible.”
Doog: “What is this place?”
Amaya: “A fruit bar. They serve fresh Mumiya to tourists.”
Doog: “You guys actually picked a good planet?! I thought you were going to be like Oldie and send me somewhere terrible.”
Seitse: “We wouldn’t have come with you, if it was somewhere terrible.”

Amaya: “So, what are we trying first? The fruit spread or the smoothie?”
Doog: “I’m going to have to go with a smoothie.”
Amaya: “Actually, I was talking to Seitse. I figured you wouldn’t want healthy stuff.”
Doog: “Well, not usually, but you mentioned something about it being the most delicious in the galaxy. I figured I might as well try it while I’m here. Besides, I’m not going to just stand here and watch you guys eat. That wouldn’t be a very exciting show.”
Amaya: “About that…there’s another point of interest on Mumia. I kind of figured you’d go check that out while we enjoyed our Mamiya.”
Doog: “What!?”
Amaya: “It’s just that we’ve done so many shows about fruits in the LIU Galaxy. This show really needs something else…something more cultural.”
Doog: “You’re not coming with me?”
Amaya: “The rule was the crew gets to pick the next few planets – nothing was said about accompanying you.”
Doog: “This isn’t going to be a good planet, is it?!”
Seitse: “I guess you’ll just have to find out.”
Amaya: “Your guide will meet you further down the platform.”

Doog: “I knew this was too good to be true. What do they have in store for me?”

​Beans: “You must be Doog. I’m Ricky Beanes. I’m a Cultural Anthropologist that studies the native Mummia.”
Doog: “Your last name is Beans?”
Beans: “Beanes, actually.”
Doog: “I’m definitely calling you Beans. Don’t bother arguing, Beans.”
Beans: “Uh…that will work, I guess.”
Doog: “So, what does a cultural apologist do, Beans? Say sorry to the natives? Or make them say sorry? Is that what the gun is for?”
Beans: “Not apologist – anthropologist. I study different cultures. Right now, I’m studying the local sentient race. We call them the Mummia.”
Doog: “And the gun?”
Beans: “The locals can be a bit…unpredictable.”
Doog: “I knew this wasn’t a good planet…”

Beans: “It’s not too bad. This local tribe has gotten pretty used to me by now. We have a general understanding.”
Doog: “I hope so, because these guys look scary. Look at those tusks, Beans.”
Beans: “The longer they are, the more sexually dominant the individual is.”

Doog: “I know how wieners work, Beans.”
Beans: “What! No! I’m still talking about their tusks!”
Doog: “Oh. I see. I don’t want to venture a guess on how you figured that out. I understand the gun a bit more.”
Beans: “It’s wasn’t anything like that!”

Doog: “They’re approaching. It might be gun time.”
Beans: “Don’t freak out. We’re in no danger. They have food cooking.”
Doog: “What does that mean?”
Beans: “They’re not hungry. They get more aggressive when they’re hungry.”
Doog: “If they were hungry, they would eat us?”
Beans: “Possibly. In their eyes, we have small tusks so we’re viewed as lesser or weaker individuals.”
Doog: “Let’s hope they’re cooking enough then, Beans!”

Beans: “Relax. I brought insurance.”
Doog: “What is that?”
Beans: “Alcohol.”
Doog: “Alcohol?! Do we want them more unstable?”
Beans: “They love the stuff, but they haven’t learned to manufacture it themselves, despite the abundance of fruits here. The LIU trades it to the locals in return for their workers’ safety.”
Doog: “One bottle for the tribe ensures safety?”
Beans: “Oh no. The LIU gives up much more than that. I brought one bottle to buy you an opportunity.”
Doog: “An opportunity?”
Beans: “Yes, safe passage inside their burial grounds.”

Doog: “Why would I want to see their burial grounds? I’d rather have the liquor.”
Beans: “This is a big part of their culture. Your crew said you wanted to check it out.”
Doog: “What is there to see? Bones? Speaking of which, these guys aren’t very good at burying stuff. I see skeletons everywhere. I also see a lot of children’s skeletons. Creepy.”
Beans: “Children have small tusks, so… they are often eaten when food is in short supply.”
Doog: “This is getting scarier.”

​Doog: “Why are the bones visible? Shouldn’t they be in these tombs?”
Beans: “That’s the thing about their culture. They don’t bury the dead in these chambers. They spread their dead on top of them. The chambers aren’t for the dead; they are for the living.”
Doog: “For the living?”
Beans: “The Mummia believe that you can communicate with the dead within these tombs, once they are deprived of their senses in these dark, soundproof chambers.”
Doog: “That’s weird…and creepy.”
Beans: “I brought the alcohol to buy you a trip inside one of these sensory deprivation vaults.”
Doog: “I don’t want that!”
Beans: “Your crew said you do.”

Doog: “Ok. Fine. I’m in.”
Beans: “It doesn’t work with the door open. You need complete darkness and silence.”
Doog: “No, you’re wrong. I hear plenty of voices already. Get out! Get in the sun! Get that alcohol back! You ARE famous!”
Beans: “Sorry, it doesn’t work that way.”

Doog: “Beans! Open it back up! I don’t like this!”
Beans: “It won’t work if you keep screaming!”
Doog: “Somethings touching me! It’s either a ghost or a bug! Both are EQUALLY terrifying!”
Beans: “This planet doesn’t have bugs.”
Doog: “AHHHH!”

Amaya: “This planet doesn’t have bugs?”
Beanes: “It does. Just a little payback for calling me Beans.”
Doog: “I heard that! But, I hate bugs too. So, I’m going to keep screaming!”
Seitse: “Wait until he finds out about the spiders on this planet.”
Doog: “AHHHHH! AHHH! LET ME OUT!”

Amaya: “Doog’s a little preoccupied screaming right now, so I guess I’ll wrap up Mumia. This jungle planet has some of the best fruit in the galaxy. It’s called Mumiya, and it is so good!”
Seitse: “It’s healthy too!”
Amaya: “Yes. The fruit isn’t the full story of Mumia, though. The planet has a native race too. The natives have a unique culture that allows them to commune with the dead.”
Seitse: “Supposedly.”
Amaya: “Supposedly. Maybe Doog can confirm this after a few hours inside the sensory deprivation tomb. We’ll let you know! Bye!”
Doog: “HOURS! AHHHH!”
 


Note: Mumiya is a spherical, edible fruit – botanically a drupe – produced by a species of tall, flowering trees on the planet, Mumia. Check your LIUPad for more details.

Doog: “Welcome to another episode of LIU Atlas. I’m your host, Terrance “Doog” McDoogal. Today, we’re visiting the noxious, mining planet, Spargere. Spargere is rich in sulfur, radium, and phosphorous. While these minerals are great for mining, they make the atmosphere toxic. Despite this, Spargere is inhabited, so let’s head down and check it out.”

Doog: “Alright folks, we’ve been dropped off on the surface of Spargere. Yes, I did say we. I’m not alone this episode. Speaking of which, why are you here old man?”
Oldie: “I’m NOT old, and I’m here because we decided to spice this season up.”
Doog: “Spice it up?”
Oldie: “Amaya decided that each crew member gets to pick a place to visit this season. I picked Spargere.”
Doog: “What! Did the dementia sneak up and bop you in the head?”
Oldie: “No! She really said that!”
Doog: “I’m not talking about Amaya’s dumb idea. I’m wondering why you picked this dump of a planet?”
Oldie: “I saw a brochure about this place. There was something about health and spas. I couldn’t pass that up.”

Doog: “Does this place look like a spa?! It’s the opposite! You clearly read something wrong.”
Oldie: “It is possible. I read about it a few years back.”
Doog: “I few years! You can barely remember a week back! What did you get us into?”

Oldie: “What are these geysers spraying everywhere? Is that cheese? That could be interesting.”
Doog: “It’s definitely not cheese.”
Oldie: “How do you know?”
Doog: “How would a planet have cheese underground?”
Oldie: “Oh, so you’re a scientist now.”
Doog: “It doesn’t take a scientist to…you know what. Maybe it is cheese. Go taste it. I’m sure your polyester windbreaker suit will give you ample protection from the geyser sprays.”
Oldie: “I will!”
Doog: “Go for it!”
Oldie: “Hmm. On second thought, it might not be worth it. Underground cheese is probably
gritty and full of dirt.”

Reggie: “Can I help you guys?”
Oldie: “You can! Two for the cheese spas, please!”
Reggie: “The what?”
Oldie: “The delicious cheese spas!”
Doog: “I think this guy escaped from the old folks home over yonder. We’ll be on our way, now. Sorry for wasting your time.”
Reggie: “I don’t know anything about cheese, but there is a spa on Spargere.”
Oldie: “Ha! I knew it! The cheese bit is a little disappointing though…”

Reggie: “I can take you there. It’s not far.”
Doog: “Can you settle a bet for us on the way?”
Reggie: “I can try.”
Doog: “What is the yellow stuff under the geysers?”
Reggie: “Sulfur deposits. The boiling geyser water has a little bit of sulfur mixed into it. Over time, these little bits add up to big deposits.”
Doog: “I told you it wasn’t cheese!”
Oldie: “Whatever!”

Doog: “So, you guys mine this stuff?”
Reggie: “We do, but not the stuff under the geysers. It’s too dangerous with all the hot water shooting out.”

Reggie: “Instead, we mine the ridges surrounding the geyser plains. That’s where the strongest concentrations of sulfur are located.”
Doog: “Do you believe this guy, Oldie? Or do you want me to set you up a fondue station?”
Oldie: “I made one tiny mistake. At least I got the spa part right. You’ll be thanking me in a bit.”

Reggie: “Well guys, this is it.”
Doog: “The spa is inside the mountain?”
Reggie: “It sure is. I think it was built in an old mining tunnel.”
Doog: “Oldie, what kind of spa is underground?”
Oldie: “I dunno. Think about it though. I’m sure it has something to do with those geysers. The steam is probably used for a sauna, or, maybe, there’s mud that cures wrinkles.”
Doog: “I hope you’re right. Well, are you coming with us mystery worker?”
Reggie: “The name is Reggie. And, no. I won’t be joining you. I need to get back to work. Besides, those spa guys creep me out. See you guys later!”
Doog: “Wait! What was the last part?! What did you get us into, Oldie!”

Oldie: “This looks nice.”
Doog: “Nice? There’s a bunch of identically dressed people chanting towards some crystals! This is creepy!”
Oldie: “Shh! They can hear you!”
Doog: “I don’t care. I want to leave.”

Cultist: “Blessed brothers, do you wish to vibrate with us? The holy crystals are particularly sensitive today. It must be the planetary alignment.”
Doog: “This is seeming less like a spa and more like an alternative medicine cult, Oldie!”
Cultist: “Do you not sense the ions, brother?”
Oldie: “I think I sense them. My right arm tingled.”
Doog: “Your arm always tingles! It’s probably elderly nerve damage!”
Oldie: “Is not!”
Cultist: “Gentlemen, your auras will misalign the oscillating tantric of the chant if your bickering persists.”
Doog: “Look, I’m not trying to start trouble, but that made zero sense to me. How about we just come right out and ask – is there a spa here?”
Cultist: “Ah, you brothers are here for some breathwork. Why didn’t you say that before?”
Doog: “I guess those ions were blocking our brain signals or something weird like that.”
Cultist: “Follow me, brothers.”

Cultist: “Prepare to intake the quantum mysticality of our gas spa, gentlemen.”
Doog: “Gas spa?”
Cultist: “Yes. Ionized gases from deep in the abandoned mine are pumped into this room.”
Doog: “Is this gas helpful or this your group’s version of poisoned punch?”
Cultist: “I don’t follow the whole punch thing, but, yes, it is very beneficial. The gas relieves pain, especially in the joints. It also elevates the mood.”
Oldie: “Time to say goodbye to my arthritis! How do we start?”
Cultist: “Just remove your masks. The cure is only a breath away.”

Doog: “We haven’t died yet. Maybe this really is a spa.”
Oldie: “They have snacks too!”
Doog: “About that, I really thought this tea was going to be laced with cyanide or something.”
Oldie: “Why are you drinking it then?”
Doog: “Because I saw that you survived drinking yours.”
Cultist: “Brothers, shall I start a drum beat for your breathwork or do you prefer transcendental meditation?”
Doog: “I’m the fan of the taco method if you can bring us some of those.”
Oldie: “Ooh, and some cheese if you don’t mind. I still have it in my head from earlier.”
Cultist: “I’m afraid we have neither.”
Doog: “Why don’t you leave us be and check anyway. Thanks.”

Doog: “Well folks, that’s Spargere. It looked pretty bleak at first. I thought this planet had nothing but geysers, sulfur, and mining facilities, but Oldie actually came through for once. Spargere has a pretty nice spa. It was a tad worrisome that it was a gas spa, but it came with free snacks. Oh well, see ya! Hey, did you guys find any tacos yet?!”
 

​
 
Note:

Doog: “Did you feel anything in the spa?”
Oldie: “Not too much. The air did seem different, though. If I had to describe it, it felt a bit spicy.”
Doog: “Spicy. That’s a good way to put it. Those drinks definitely had something in them.”
Oldie: “Molly, I believe.”
Doog: “Thought so.”  
Oldie: “I think they were buttering us up so we’d join their cult.”
Doog: “It takes way more drugs to convince me to do anything.”
Amaya: “Idiots! What did you do?!”
Doog: “Relax, we had a few drinks…that were absolutely spiked with some type of mood enhancer.”
Amaya: “That’s bad enough, but I’m talking about the radon spa.”
Doog: “Radon, is that a fancy way of saying gas spa?”
Amaya: “No! Radon is the radioactive gas you nitwits have been sucking in all afternoon. Get over here a let me scan you.”
Oldie: “That’s what was so spicy.”

Amaya: “I’m locking you both in here until the scanner reads zero radiation. You’re not getting the rest of us sick.”
Doog: “What! What are we supposed to do?”
Amaya: “For starters, shower and flush your clothes down the toilet.”
Doog: “Nothing ruins a high like getting naked with an old man! Let me out!”
Oldie: “I call first shower!”
Doog: “No! Wait! Stop! Amayaaaa!”

Doog: “Welcome to another episode of LIU Atlas. I’m your host, Terrance “Doog” McDoogal. Today, we’re visiting the planet, Spelunca. Spelunca is a temperate planet with a variety of environments. These environments are pristine with almost no pollution. That wouldn’t be unusual for some worlds, but it is for Spelunca. Why? Because Spelunca is classified as a factory world. Let’s head down and unravel this mystery.”

Doog: “Well folks, I’ve been dropped off on Spelunca. There’s an anomaly on this factory world, and it’s more than the lack of pollution and beautiful greenery. This factory world…doesn’t appear to have any factories. There are no buildings here. The only sign of advanced life is the landing pad, this small home under the hill, and the large antenna above it.”

Doog: “Maybe the factories are these fields. Is Spelunca the galaxy’s largest supplier of house plants? Is this a factory farm type of deal? Maybe there are millions of animals grazing here just out of sight.”

Taub: “You must be Doog. I’m Taub Toohar. I’ll be your guide.”
Doog: “I…uh…this is awkward. I’m so sorry.”
Taub: “Excuse me.”
Doog: “My hat. I didn’t know you were going to look like this.”
Taub: “I don’t follow.”
Doog: “I didn’t know you were going to be some humanoid beaver.”
Taub: “Beaver? I don’t know what that is.”
Doog: “Right. Beavers aren’t a thing on this planet. Never mind.”
Taub: “Are you inferring that I resemble the creature on your hat?”
Doog: “I…uh…maybe?”
Taub: “I don’t have a tail. I don’t walk on four feet. I guess we both have fur.”
Doog: “Oh, so you do see the likeness.”
Taub: “Suuure... So, shall we continue inside?”
Doog: “Inside? Are we checking out your house or something?”

Taub: “This isn’t a house.”
Doog: “I see that now. What is this place?”
Taub: “It’s the city entrance.”
Doog: “I didn’t see a city behind this house.”
Taub: “It’s not behind. It’s below.”
Doog: “So, these are elevators?”
Taub: “Yes.”

Doog: “Holy Emperor…I wasn’t expecting this.”
Taub: “What?”
Doog: “When you said this city was underground, I was thinking of something smaller. There are full on skyscrapers down here.”
Taub: “We call them roofscrapers down here.”
Doog: “Because there’s no sky. Clever.”
Taub: “Yes, it’s also the name of the city.”
Doog: “The city is called roofscrapers?”
Taub: “Roofscrape, actually.”

Doog: “Am I to guess that the factories are down here too?”
Taub: “They are.”
Doog: “That would explain why Spelunca didn’t look like a factory world on the surface.”
Taub: “The factories were an addition to the city, built by the LIU. They are deep and far from the main entrance.”
Doog: “So, this part of the city was built before the factories?”
Taub: “Yes. Roofscrape was originally built as a trade hub. It was near the center of the planet’s many underground cities. Of course, Roofscrape eventually grew large and powerful enough that it incorporated the cities it once served. Roofscrape is now the sole city on Spelunca.”
Doog: “Hmm.”
Taub: “Fun fact, the cities Roofscrape swallowed up weren’t fully lost. Regions or neighborhoods within Roofsrape still bear the old cities’ names. For instance, we’re in Sump Root right now.”
Doog: “Sump Root was my nickname in college.”
Taub: “Really?”
Doog: “It was for a week or so. I had a particularly bad STD.”
Taub: “I regret asking.”

Doog: “So, if this was all here before the factories, what’s Roofscrape’s economy?”
Taub: “It’s mixed. Being a subterranean race, we obviously dabble in mining, but we have a developed agricultural business and some commercial interests too.”
Doog: “Got it. So where are we now? And, don’t tell me it’s Stink Rod. That would be too much of a coincidence.”
Taub: “We’re still in Sump Root for now. We’ll need to catch a train if we’re checking out the factories.”
Doog: “No comment on my Stink Rod joke?”
Taub: “I learned the hard way last time.”

Doog: “Not a lot of people got off at this stop.”
Taub: “It’s security controlled. Only staff can exit the train here.”
Doog: “That’s what I’m saying. Where are all the factory workers?”
Taub: “The workers are in the factory.”
Doog: “Ah, it must not be shift-change. I see.”
Taub: “Uh, yeah, sure.”
Doog: “So, what type of factory or factories are here?”
Taub: “The type that manufacture optical hardware, like optical processing chips.”

Taub: “The type of hardware we manufacture is damaged by light, so it’s pitch-black inside. You’ll need to wear these goggles if you want to see.”
Doog: “Got it.”
Taub: “I assume your camera settings can be adjusted too.”
Doog: “Hopefully, or the next thirty minutes of the show are just going to be audio.”
Taub: “I need a real answer.”
Doog: “Yes. We made adjustments to the camera. Neither the camera or I will produce any visible light.”
Taub: “Good.”

Doog: “I’m not sure if my goggles are malfunctioning, but I can’t see the bottom of this ravine.”
Taub: “It’s deeper than the sensors’ range.”
Doog: “I was afraid you were going to say that. Why exactly are we walking on this tiny bridge above an endless abyss?”
Taub: “The causeway is a security measure. It prevents trespassers. Trespassers could mean unauthorized sources of light, and light damages the optical equipment we produce.”
Doog: “I see. I guess it would be hard to make it down this path without goggles. Any trespasser would need a flashlight and that would be a dead giveaway.”
Taub: “Yes.”
Doog: “Speaking of goggles, how are you seeing without any?”
Taub: “My race evolved in dark caverns like this. We have adaptations that allow us to navigate the dark – like enhanced hearing and touch.”
Doog: “You guys are definitely not beavers.”
Taub: “Thanks, I think. Let’s head inside.”

Taub: “Well, we’re officially in a factory. This particular section is operated by the Eigengrau Corporation.”
Doog: “I was imagining something bigger.”
Taub: “This is only one room. The actual factory is huge. It’s over 500,000 square meters. It’s one of the largest underground facilities in the galaxy.”
Doog: “That sounds big, but I’m terrible with numbers.”
Taub: “You could fit over three hundred Ringball courts in here.”
Doog: “Dang. That is big. “

Doog: “What do they make here?”
Taub: “In general, these factories make optical hardware. In this specific factory, the Eigengrau Corporation makes optical sensor chips.”
Doog: “They’re damaged by light?”
Taub: “Yes, in a way. They are built to sense light – even the most minute amounts. If they are built in the light, they become way less effective and accurate.”
Doog: “What are these chips used for?”
Taub: “Like I said, they are used to sense light. This is useful any many applications, but typically, they are found in intergalactic ships’ sensor arrays. They can sense the light from stars and galaxies millions of lightyears away.”
Doog: “They help with navigation?”
Taub: “Yes.”

Doog: “With that out of the way, my next questions involve these freaky looking workers.”
Taub: “We call them GMW’s or genetically modified workers. They were created specifically to operate in the darkness.”
Doog: “Genetically modified how?”
Taub: “They are a hybridization of your species and mine. They get all the sensory upgrades without the pesky, chip-ruining fur.”
Doog: “Beaver-Humans…weird.”
Taub: “We’re not beavers.”
Doog: “Oh yeah.”
Taub: “There are a few further upgrades as well. The GMW’s have extra sensitive skin that allows them to ‘see’ through touch, or seismic-location. Think of it as the touch version of echolocation. Oh, they also have an artificial organ that releases Vitamin D. It is essential given they never see the sun or any major source of UV.”

Doog: “Why go through all the trouble to ‘make’ workers? Why not use robots or automated machines?”
Taub: “We do use some robots, but they lack the sensory dexterity to manipulate the chips without light.”
Doog: “I guess. Why are the workers chained to the wall?”
Taub: “Not chained, tethered. The tether helps the workers know their location in the workplace.”
Doog: “So, they are free to leave if they choose?”
Taub: “Well, no, not exactly. Each GMW is a colossal investment. The cloning and upkeep costs make them very valuable. If they were damaged or lost, it would be a huge profit loss for Eigengrau.”
Doog: “They’re slaves.”
Taub: “Is a machine a slave? Is your microphone?”
Doog: “No, of course not. They are not alive.”
Taub: “The GMW’s would not be alive if not created by Eigengrau. They are biological tools, nothing more.”

Doog: “That’s kind of messed up.”
Taub: “The GMW’s lack any social, emotional, or sexual feelings. All the typical indicators of sentience were bred out by generation IV.  Now, they operate on a reward system, like any tamed non-sentient. Work equals food. Work equals water.”
Doog: “Even dogs, or tamed non-sentients, get love and social interactions.”
Taub: “They are more like dairy cows than dogs. Produce and get fed. Produce and stay alive.”
Doog: “Cows get something besides food and water…maybe…ok, maybe not. Still, this is creepy.”
Taub: “Don’t let their sad, teethless mouths and gloomy vestigial eyes fool you. There’s not a thought in that modified brain besides work, eat, and sleep.”

Doog: “All this for some optical chips.”
Taub: “It is disheartening at first. Trust me, I felt the same way – the GMW’s are half my kind after all. However, after being involved in this project for years, I now see that these ‘workers’ are no longer anything more than complex organic tools. They don’t suffer. They don’t want more. They just exist to serve a purpose.”
Doog: “If that helps you sleep at night, good for you. Anything else?”
Taub: “No, I think that’s enough.”

Doog: “Well folks, that’s Spelunca. This pristine planet looks beautiful on the outside, but it has a lot of secrets. For one, there’s a huge underground city just below the surface. Oh, and there are insanely dark factories here that employ genetically modified beings as workers. Don’t adjust your screens. This is actual footage from the factory without echo-imaging. This lightless black is home to thousands of modified beings that make optical components, like sensor chips. It’s creepy. I’m going to have nightmares of those disturbing, useless eyes for weeks. Oh well, see ya!”
 
 
Note:   GMW’s contain DNA from several species:
            Humans – 47%
            Speluncans – 47%
            Poenans – 3%
            Dark Harvesters – 2%
            Other – 1%

Doog: “Welcome to another episode of LIU Atlas. I’m your host, Terrance “Doog” McDoogal. Today, we’re visiting the planet, Egelidus. Egelidus orbits in the outermost ring of its star’s habitable zone – making it cold, but livable. This snowy planet, being only a few light years from the Marinjae Hyperspace Route, is a regional cargo hub. Goods come here to be distributed to other worlds in Egelidus’ proximity. Let’s head down and check it out.”

Doog: “Well folks, as you can see, my arrival did not go as expected. I’ve been detained.”
Sheriff: “The whole ‘talking to yourself’ business is not convincing me of your sanity.”
Doog: “I’m NOT talking to myself! I really am a TV reporter.”
Sheriff: “Speaking into some mechanical tube that vaguely resembles a microphone does not make you a reporter.”
Doog: “What about my Hover Cam?”
Sheriff: “Anyone can get a camera drone these days.”
Doog: “Sigh.”
Sheriff: “TV reporter or not, that doesn’t explain your wardrobe. Only stowaways, vagabonds, and psychopaths come to Egelidus dressed like that.”
Doog: “Wait…are you saying you locked me up because of clothes?”
Sheriff: “The lack thereof, actually. A sane person wouldn’t come to an ice planet with no coat, let alone no sleeves.”
Doog: “I didn’t think it would be all that cold. All that edge of the habitable zone nonsense. Besides, I heard there were jungles here. It can’t be too cold if there are jungles, right?”
Sheriff: “The more you talk, the more I’m convinced I’m doing the right thing. Now, let’s turn that drone off.”
 

​
One Hour Later:

Patrik: “Thank you, sheriff. I’m glad we could come to an understanding.”
Sheriff: “I’m still not entirely convinced, but if you’re willing to vouch for him, I guess I can let him go.”
Doog: “You guess? It’s not like I killed someone! I didn’t wear sleeves!”
Sheriff: “Speaking of which, I hope you secured our inmate some more appropriate clothing, Patrik.”
Patrik: “I did.”

Doog: “I mean, it is a little cold.”
Patrik: “It’s below freezing. You wouldn’t have lasted long.”
Doog: “Was jail really necessary, though?”
Patrik: “Being a cargo hub, we see a lot of stowaways. If port security didn’t intervene, the place would be littered with frozen corpses. Even worse, some of these stowaways choose crime to stay warm.”
Doog: “Crime keeps them warm? How is that possible?”
Patrik: “They kill you for your coat.”
Doog: “Oh.”

Doog: “You’re Patrik, right?”
Patrik: “Yes. Sorry, I never officially introduced myself.”
Doog: “It was kind of hard with all the jailing and lawyering we went through. So, what do you do on Egelidus?”
Patrik: “I’m a scientist.”
Doog: “I see. How exactly does that fit into the cargo industry?”
Patrik: “It doesn’t. Unlike the other residents here, I’m not tied to the cargo port. I only come here a few times a month to resupply.”
Doog: “I didn’t know Egelidus was anything more than a cargo hub.”
Patrik: “I mean, like 99.9% of Egelidus revolves around trade – from the docks to the distributors to the small businesses that support it. In fact, I might be the only resident on the whole planet that even leaves the city.”
Doog: “We’re leaving the city?”
Patrik: “Yep, ignore the warnings. We’re heading out.”

Doog: “I’m really loving this coat now.”
Patrik: “The wind makes it colder.”
Doog: “So, where exactly are we headed? Everything looks the same.”
Patrik: “The jungles.”
Doog: “What! The jungles are real? When I told the sheriff that, he thought I was even crazier!”
Patrik: “The sheriff and the other workers never leave the city. To them, the jungles are just a myth.”

Patrik: “But a myth, they are not.”
Doog: “That’s one weird looking jungle. For one, it’s not green.”
Patrik: “The plants of Egelidus are high in anthocyanins, making their flowers and foliage shades of red and purple.”
Doog: “Is that what stops them from freezing?”
Patrik: “No, anthocyanin is just a pigment. Their cold-resistant biology is much more complex. It’s done with thermogenic enzymes, like alternative oxidase and ubiquinol.”

Doog: “Those names mean nothing to me. Explain it me like I’m a traumatic brain injury survivor.”
Patrik: “The plants create heat in the mitochondria without using proton gradients…”
Doog: “A more severe injury than that.”
Patrik: “The plants of Egelidus don’t worry about the cold because they make heat. Heat keeps them from freezing. Heat keeps their leaves clear of snow, allowing photosynthesis. Heat even allows their roots and seeds to penetrate the hard ground.”
Doog: “Interesting.”

Patrik: “They actually radiate enough heat to raise the temperature within their vicinity.”
Doog: “So, I could have gone sleeveless!”
Patrik: “Not that much heat.”
Doog: “Darn.”
Patrik: “If you were stranded or underequipped, though, this would be the place to hunker down. Those few degrees would buy you some extra time.”

Doog: “Whoa! Is that an animal?”
Patrik: “It is.”

Patrik: “I’ve been calling them Salf, but it hasn’t been approved by the LIU Bureau of Naming.”
Doog: “Salf?”
Patrik: “Yes – a humorous acronym I developed – Six-Armed-Lazy-Fellows.”
Doog: “We apparently have different senses of humor. So, can you tell me anything about the Salf, besides their six arms and unfunny name?”

Patrik: “Salf are herbivores. They can eat any of the species of plants on Egelidus, and they eat them a lot. Staying warm must take a lot of metabolic energy. Salf never stray far from the jungles, probably because they constantly need to eat. But it is possible they need the plants' warmth as well. They have no natural predators, so they show no signs of fear when approached.”
Doog: “What’s the lazy part of Salf?”
Patrik: “They hardly move when they’re not eating.”
Doog: “Ah, makes sense. Are Salf or any of these plants valuable to the LIU?”

Patrik: “That’s what I study here.”
Doog: “You live out here?”
Patrik: “Yes, in a jungle clearing.”
Doog: “Must be pretty lonely.”
Patrik: “I have the wildlife to keep me company. Let’s head inside.”

Doog: “I honestly thought it would be bigger – that’s what she said.”
Patrik: “Huh?”
Doog: “I thought your house/lab would be bigger. There’s not a lot of room for science.”
Patrik: “There’s plenty of space for the preliminary work I’m doing. I’m mostly collecting and analyzing genetic and chemical samples. I have started experimenting with growing local plant species, if you check out the top of my cabinets.”
Doog: “Find anything valuable yet?”
Patrik: “I’ve only been here for two years. I haven’t had enough time to make any major breakthroughs. Most of my time has been spent understanding the thermogenic properties of the plant life. Once I figure it out, it might be useful for terraforming or growing food in colder environments.”
Doog: “That’s a no, I guess. Nothing valuable yet.”
Patrik: “I wouldn’t say…”

​Doog: “Well folks, that’s Egelidus. This – colder than I thought – planet is a local cargo port, but it potentially has more to offer. There are plants here that make heat, allowing them to grow in these frigid conditions. There’s even some animal life here, although it is poorly named. Oh well, see ya!”
 
 
 
Note:
 
To: The LIU Bureau of Naming
From: Terrance McDoogal
Reference: Salf? Seriously?
 
We have to do something about the name of that creature on Egelidus. What the heck is a Salf? Sure, it’s an acronym, but lazy-fellow? Really? Surely, we can name it something better. Here’s a few suggestions: Sadoog (Six -Armed / lazy guy named Doog), Doog (just a cool name), Fatso (eats a lot), or Doog Handsomethera (I’m handsome). I’ll keep thinking of more. Let me know if you like any so far!
 
Thanks,
 
Terrance “Doog” McDoogal

Doog: “Welcome to Season 16 of LIU Atlas. I’m your host, Terrance “Doog” McDoogal. Today, we’re visiting the planet, Fistula. Fistula and its star system sit just outside of a stellar remnant called the Durina Nebula. Fistula’s single, large continent is almost entirely desert, but there are a few less arid islands surrounding it. The dryness of the continent is mostly caused by the high mountain chain surrounding it. A race of beings, called the Umbachi, manage to live in the small coastal areas – between the sea and the mountains. Let’s head down and check them out.”

Doog: “Alright folks, I’ve been dropped off in a small, coastal village. There are simple buildings, structures, and docks, but there are also signs of the LIU’s influence – like this landing pad and the large pipe just behind me. I wonder what that’s all about.”

Senryu: “Are you that TV guy, Doog?”
Doog: “I am. Are you here to rob me?”
Senryu: “Rob you? No! I’m Senryu, your guide.”
Doog: “What’s up with the gun then?”
Senryu: “The LIU hired a few of us villagers to run the space port and escort their workers. They gave us these guns to protect their equipment and the port.”
Doog: “I see. So, the LIU only hired a few of you?”

Senryu: “Yes. Most villagers carry on with the old ways. They didn’t want our help with their pipeline project.”
Doog: “What are these old ways?”
Senryu: “Fishing…the only thing there is to do on Fistula.”
Doog: “I forgot that most of this planet is lifeless desert.”
Senryu: “Yes. The sea provides all.”
Doog: “What about water?”

Senryu: “The sea also provides water. Ocean currents blow warm air towards the coasts, but it can’t make it over the mountains. Instead, these warm breezes turn into fog when met with the cold mountain air.”
Doog: “You get your water from fog?”
Senryu: “Yes. The fog condenses on special glass collectors.”
Doog: “That’s smart.”
Oryol: “We gets the good ol clean water rights here.”
Doog: “That guy…not so much.”

Doog: “I guess the only other thing we need to figure out is the pipeline.”
Senryu: “There’s not much mystery to it. It collects water from the ocean and pumps into the continent’s interior.”
Doog: “Yeah, but what for? Is the LIU making the desert farmable or inhabitable?”
Senryu: “Well, that’s salt water. I’m no expert, but I don’t think that would help with farming or living. To be honest, I’ve been to the site several times, and I still don’t know what they’re doing.”
Doog: “You’ve been to the site?”
Senryu: “Yeah, like I said, one of my jobs is to escort workers from the port to the site. Want me to take you?”
Doog: “Sure. This show can’t just be about fog, deserts, and fishing.”

Senryu: “Onryo, we’re making a tunnel run. You’re with us.”
Onryo: “Got it.”
Senryu: “Sigh, you’re coming too, Oryol. Bring some water for our journey.”
Oryol: “Ooh yeah! Isa goin to make you reals proud, boss.”
Doog: “Do we really want to bring this guy?”
Senryu: “No, but we need a grunt. It’s a bit of a trek.”
Doog: “Wait…what? How far are we talking?”
Senryu: “Several miles. It’s a tunnel through a mountain.”
Doog: “What! Is it too late to cancel? I’m sure we can find out more about that fog water business.”

Doog: “You warned me about the distance, but told me nothing about the boredom. It’s just miles and miles of pipe and pumping stations.”
Senryu: “What can I say? It’s a tunnel that get workers from point A to point B. It also allows the pipeline to be serviced if needed. Also, I hate to break it to you, but we haven’t even gone a mile yet.”
Doog: “Ugh!”
Senryu: “Besides, the tunnels are not that boring.”
Doog: “What do you mean?”
Senryu: “There are creatures here.”
Doog: “In the tunnel?”
Senryu: “Yep. Big, blobby mollusks we call Ugnos. They usually live in moist caves along the coast, but they took a liking to these tunnels. Probably because of the condensation on the pipeline.”

Senryu: “Ask and you shall receive.”
Doog: “I get the name now – ugly and no thanks. Ugnos.”
Senryu: “No thanks, indeed. They can deliver a nasty bite. Luckily, they’re not much of a problem with our LIU rifles. Onryo, prepare to fire.”
BOOM! BOOM!
Doog: “Yikes! Let a guy hold his ears before you fire inside a little tunnel!”

Oryol: “You got em, bosses! We be drinking good tonight!”
Doog: “Drinking good? Is this guy that dumb or are you guys really going to drink these disgusting things?”
Senryu: “Their blood and stomachs hold a good bit of water. It’s a nice supplement to the fog water.”
Doog: “Gross.”
Senryu: “It was once an occasional delicacy, as the Ugnos were hard to access in their caves. Now, we capture a few a week in the tunnel.”
Doog: “How are they even getting in here?”
Senryu: “Their blobby bodies can squeeze through the smallest cracks.”
Doog: “Barf.”

Doog: “I’ve never been so glad to get out of a tunnel!”
Senryu: “I’m sure Onryo agrees. He’s never had to give a ‘piggyback’ – as you called it – to an escort before.”
Doog: “Yeah, thanks for that. That last mile was going to kill me. So, what are we looking at here?”

Senryu: “I’m not sure. This is where my usefulness ends. Good luck, Doog.”
Doog: “You’re leaving me here? How will I get back?!”
Senryu: “The tunnel is cleared of Ugnos for now. You’ll be ok walking back alone. Besides, hydration awaits us. Oryol will be arriving back at our village with our spoils anytime now. We don’t want to miss it.”
Doog: “I don’t care about those blobs! I need a someone to piggyback me!”
Senryu: “Sigh.”

Gladys: “You must be that Doog, fella.”
Doog: “I am.”
Gladys: “I’m forelady Gladys. Happy you survived the trip.”
Doog: “Yeah…thanks. So, what’s happening here?”
Gladys: “What does it look like?”
Doog: “You’re making pink, cotton-candy ice-cream from the piped in seawater?”
Gladys: “What?! No!”

Gladys: “These are evaporation ponds.”
Doog: “Evaporation ponds?”
Gladys: “Yeah. We pump seawater into these little pools and wait for the water to evaporate. All that’s left is the minerals. Salt mostly.”
Doog: “Why are they various shades of pink?”
Gladys: “Halophiles.”
Doog: “Hey! My breath should be good now!”
Gladys: “Not halitosis, halophiles – bacteria that eats salt.”
Doog: “Oh.”
Gladys: “As the water evaporates, the halophiles get more and more condensed.”
Doog: “So the darker pools are closer to being fully evaporated.”
Gladys: “Exactly.”

Gladys: “When the pools are black, they’re ready to be harvested.”
Doog: “That does not look like salt.”
Gladys: “It’s 97% salt with a few trace minerals, mostly from the dead halophiles.”
Doog: “Like what?”
Gladys: “Calcium, zinc, and carbon.”
Doog: “That’s good? Safe?”
Gladys: “Of course. It’s a healthier salt. It builds bones and cures illnesses.”
Doog: “Really?”
Gladys: “That’s what the promotion department says. I’m not a chemistry or nutrition expert.”

Gladys: “The evaporation ponds from this pipeline stretch dozens of square miles, but there are hoppers like this spread throughout. Workers drop black salt into these hoppers, and it is transported to the processing center.”
Doog: “Like this?”
Gladys: “Yes.”

Doog: “Did you call it ‘black salt’?”
Gladys: “I did. What else would you call it?”
Doog: “I guess that’s better than ‘dead bacteria salt’.”
Gladys: “Shall we head inside?”
Doog: “We shall.”

Gladys: “The hoppers drop the black salt into an underground conveyer, which brings it here. The salt is then processed.”
Doog: “Processed how?”
Gladys: “Ground, screened, mixed, ground some more, screened some more, and so on.”
Doog: “Sounds simple enough. Anything else?”
Gladys: “After processing, it’s barreled up. The locals transport it back to the port so it can be shipped off-world.”
Doog: “Got it.”

Doog: “Well folks, that’s Fistula. The locals survive by fishing and collecting water from the fog. They also drink the juices of weird blobs called Ugnos. The LIU has brought industry here, but the locals play a minimal role in it. This industry involves pumping seawater into evaporation ponds in Fistula’s desert interior. When all the water is removed, the only thing left is a blackened salt. The blackness has something to do with the billions of dead halophiles in the salt. Supposedly, ‘black salt’ is healthier than normal salt. Oh well, see ya!”
 
 
Note: Fistula Black Salt is mostly imported by Foetida Foods, so they can label their processed meals as healthy.

Doog: “Welcome to the season finale of Season 15 of LIU Atlas. I’m your host, Terrance “Doog” McDoogal. Today, we’re wrapping up the season on the planet, Ibis Luces. Ibis Luces is a rogue planet. It doesn’t orbit a star, but, instead, orbits the galactic center. Usually, rogue planets are dark, inhospitable places, but Ibis Luces is different. It actually has light. As you can see, it even has enough light to sustain plant growth. How is this possible? Ibis Luces is orbited by dozens of artificial suns. These suns are called the Sacred Light Array.”

Doog: “The Sacred Light Array, or SLA, consists of one-hundred and twenty-eight fusion powered space stations in a 16X8 grid. The SLA fire high-energy rays towards Ibis Luces, giving it light, heat, and energy. Let’s head down and find out some more.”

Doog: “Alright folks, I’ve been dropped off on the surface of Ibis Luces. You can’t even tell that this is a rogue planet. It looks like a normal day on a normal planet. Well, mostly normal – there are one-hundred and twenty-eight mini-suns in the sky. It’s sort of hard to not look at them. I’m probably going to blind before this episode is over. Anyways, you’ll also note that there is a lot of foliage here. This type of life would be impossible here without the array.”

Aimi: “Good morning, Doog! I’m Aimi.”
Doog: “Hey. Nice to meet you. So, you mentioned morning. How can you tell?”
Aimi: “The position of the array. It’s just above the horizon.”
Doog: “Oh.”
Aimi: “Don’t stare at it silly! Their combined strength is close to an actual star.”
Doog: “Right. I knew that. It’s just so unusual that I want to see it.”
Aimi: “Just think of it as a normal sun, just longer.”
Doog: “Got it. So, what do you do here, Aimi?”

Aimi: “We all do a little bit of everything on Ibis Luces. This week, I’m in charge of maintaining Ibis Luces’ sensors and sensor communications. Snore!”
Doog: “I’m guessing this giant thing has something to do with the communications.”
Aimi: “Yeah. This is how we communicate with the array.”
Doog: “You interact with the array?”
Aimi: “Sure! The SLA is still experimental. We’re fine tuning it – trying to find the best settings.”
Doog: “Seems like it is working fine. There are plants all over.”
Aimi: “Yeah, but they’re mostly weeds that don’t need much sun. We want to find the right spectrums of light to grow things like crops.”
Doog: “I see.”

Aimi: “Don’t get me wrong, any plant we get to grow here is a scientific miracle. This is a rogue planet, after all.”
Doog: “These must be the sensors.”
Aimi: “Yes. We take readings all over the surface. The data we get is processed at base camp and then sent to the array. The array can then adjust. Perhaps there is too much or too little sunlight. Maybe, the spectrum is off, and there’s too much infrared.”
Doog: “Speaking of which, how safe is it down here? Anyone ever get sunburned to death?”
Aimi: “No, we’re pretty careful. Major adjustments to the array are only done when all staff is indoors.”

Aimi: “Home sweet home.”
Doog: “You live here?”
Aimi: “Yep. This is basecamp. All SLA staff live here. It’s also where we work – well, when we’re not off messing with the sensors and comms.”
Doog: “What other types of work do people do here?”
Aimi: “Mostly science stuff, like processing sensor data, reading array codes, and other technical stuff.”

Aimi: “We also do a lot of scientific experiments.”
Doog: “This is an experiment?”
Aimi: “Sure. We’re testing how various crops thrive under the artificial suns.”
Doog: “Looks like they’re doing good to me.”
Aimi: “Yeah, they’re not doing too bad, are they? Well, we’ve dawdled in the fake suns for long enough. Let’s head inside.”

Aimi: “This is some of the science stuff I was telling you about earlier. There are heat maps, atmosphere projections, ozone monitors. There’s even some data on the weather effects of the array. If you’re not into that type of stuff, it’s probably pretty boring.”
Doog: “It’s not really my thing.”
Aimi: “Let’s continue, then.”

Aimi: “Sacred Light Arrays could potentially change the galaxy. Food could be grown on any planet. Planets far from their star or planets without stars could support life. Ice worlds could be terraformed and so on. However, the arrays aren’t cheap. We needed funding to get this array built, and we’ll need even more funding to build more arrays.”
Doog: “What are you saying? What source of funding?”
Aimi: “Sigh. The military.”
Doog: “The military?”
Aimi: “Yes. Project SLAYR.”
Doog: “Slayer? That sounds ominous. What’s the acronym?”
Aimi: “Sacred Light Array – Yield Reduction.”
Doog: “That’s not as scary as I thought…or is it? What’s a yield production?”
Aimi: “It’s the opposite of everything else we’re trying to do here. Instead of improving food production, SLAYR, uses the array to irradicate crops.”

Doog: “That sounds bad.”
Aimi: “It’s worse than you think. If the military could deploy an array around an enemy planet, they could do a lot of damage. Obviously, you could increase heat and light to destroy crops and starve your enemy, but that’s just the tip of the iceberg. You could flood planets by melting their icecaps. You could cause massive droughts or powerful storms. You could disturb circadian rhythms with unending days.”
Doog: “Yikes. You could do extreme good or extreme bad with this array.”
Aimi: “Indeed.”
Doog: “Luckily, you’re not testing that stuff on Ibis Luces. We’re totally safe, right?”
Aimi: “Well, I wouldn’t say that. We are safe in this sector, but SLAYR is definitely being tested in other sections of this planet.”
Doog: “What!”
Aimi: “In small sections of the planet, the array is ramped up. See that red mark on the map? That’s one such section.”

Aimi: “The array has essentially sanitized this part of the planet. All plant life has been irradicated.”
Doog: “So, it works as a weapon. This isn’t just theory.”
Aimi: “It’s real.”
Doog: “So, the LIU could starve or flood planets anytime they wish?”
Aimi: “Well, the array isn’t exactly mobile. It would take a lot of time and money to move it. Part of the militaries funding goes towards making the array more maneuverable, but for now, the LIU’s enemies are safe.”
Doog: “Scary stuff. Anything else to add?”
Aimi: “I think that’s it.”

Doog: “Well folks, that’s Ibis Luces. This planet is home to an array of artificial suns. The Sacred Light Array, as it’s called, could be used to make the galaxy more livable, but it could also be used to kill off entire planets. I’m hoping it’s the first one. Oh well, that’s Season 15! See ya!”
 
 
 
Note: The LIU has another project based around the array called SLA-VRY. In this project, the array would be used to subjugate a population. Essentially, workers relocated to a rogue planet would be forced to work for sunlight. Failure to meet quotas or rebellion would be punished with the SLA being turned off.

Doog: “Welcome to another episode of LIU Atlas. I’m your host, Terrance “Doog” McDoogal. Today, we’re visiting the gas giant, Frendo. Frendo is a bit of an oddity, as it has more helium than it does hydrogen. This was probably caused by hydrogen evaporation, which is a byproduct of orbiting close to its star. Whatever the cause, this makes Frendo a great source of helium. Let’s head down and find out more.”

Doog: “Frendo doesn’t have any oxygen-rich, habitable layers. So, you won’t find people driving hover-boats, nor will there be open-air floating cities. The only survivable area within Frendo is Station N-A-2-H-E. I’m not sure if that spells something or if you are supposed to say every letter. From this point forward, I’m just going to call it, ‘the snowflake’, because it sort of looks like one.”

Doog: “The station’s new name immediately loses all validation as the Magellan approaches and the station’s profile changes. I can’t see a snowflake anymore. Screw it. N-A-2-H-E, it is.”

Barthold: “Welcome, Doog. I am Barthold Wehner, Chief Industrial Officer on Station N-A-2-H-E.”
Doog: “Well, that answers one thing, you do say the letters. Got it. One more thing, did you just say your name was butt-hole-wiener?  How much did your parents hate you?”
Barthold: “NO! Barthold Wehner! Barthold is my first name. Wehner, not wiener.”
Doog: “Maybe it’s your accent, but all I hear is…”
Barthold: “Just call me, Bart!”
Doog: “Will do. Well, we fixed your naming issue, now let’s move onto the station’s name. Why is it called N-A-2-H-E.”
Barthold: “It’s the chemical formula of Disodium Helide, our chief export.”
Doog: “That makes some sense. N-A-2-H-E is a mouthful, but it’s better than that other thing you said. What was that again?”
Barthold: “Disodium Helide.”
Doog: “Tell me more about that.”

Barthold: “Disodium Helide consists of the elements Sodium and Helium. So, to manufacture it, we need these elements.”
Doog: “The helium part should be easy.”
Barthold: “More or less. Frendo is obviously abundant in Helium, but it’s nearly impossible to pull only helium from the atmosphere. Any helium we grab from the atmosphere is tainted with the other elements present in the atmosphere, like hydrogen, nitrogen, oxygen, and methane.”

Barthold: “In labs, like this, we remove all contaminants.”
Doog: “How?”
Barthold: “Helium has an extremely low boiling point. We drop the temperature low enough that all remaining gases precipitate out.”
Doog: “Precipitate? You mean, like, rain?”
Barthold: “Yes. It gets so cold that all the other gases turn to liquid and drain away.”
Doog: “Seems simple enough.”
Barthold: “If achieving -255° Celsius is seen as easy.”

Barthold: “The sodium portion of production is a bit more difficult.”
Doog: “How? Isn’t sodium just salt?”
Barthold: “Salt is sodium and chlorine. Importing table salt would create even more work. We prefer to import sodium itself.”
Doog: “Import?”
Barthold: “There’s no accessible sodium on Frendo. We have to import it.”
Doog: “What’s all this then? And, why is it more difficult?”
Barthold: “Pure sodium is pretty reactive. It’s shipped in oxygen-free, anhydrous mineral oil to avoid reactions. These machines remove the oil and restore the pure sodium.”
Doog: “Once everything’s pure – sodium and helium – what happens?”
Barthold: “The pure helium and sodium are precisely combined. Two sodium atoms for every helium atom.”

Doog: “And that makes Disodium Helide?”
Barthold: “No. N-A-2-H-E can only be formed under extreme pressures. Helium is very inert. It doesn’t form compounds under normal conditions.”
Doog: “Helium doesn’t work well with others. Sounds like me. I finally have a tattoo idea.”
Barthold: “A helium atom?”
Doog: “No, a tattoo that says, ‘doesn’t work well with others.’”
Barthold: “Oh.”
Doog: “So, how is it made then?”
Barthold: “The containers of ratioed helium and sodium are loaded onto a Bobber.”
Doog: “Bobber?”
Barthold: “Yeah, that’s what we call them.”

Barthold: “The Bobber is then fired deep into Frendo. The extreme pressures, deep in the gas giant, force the elements to combine into Disodium Helide.”

Barthold: “Repulsion cranes pull the Bobber back into the facility. Workers then quickly collect the cannisters. Disodium Helide is not stable for long after it’s removed from pressure.”
Doog: “All I can think about right now is the giant hole in the floor that I’m standing way too close to.”
Barthold: “That’s the least of your worries. If the containers fall below 100 gigapascals, the Disodium Helide violently decompresses back into sodium and helium.”
Doog: “That’s…bad?”
Barthold: “Violently decompresses…yes, bad.”

Barthold: “The containers are built to stay pressurized for about twenty minutes. They must be moved to more secure containers quickly. We have a large crew of workers that unload the dangerous compound with EM Shield Handlers.”
Doog: “What if something happens and they can’t unload and secure the N-A-2-H-E?”
Barthold: “The Bobber can be relaunched and the timer restarts.”
Doog: “What about the removed containers?”
Barthold: “Once removed, the workers must deliver the compound. It should not be difficult with the Handlers. It’s less than a minute from the Bobber to the armory.”
Doog: “Armory?”
Barthold: “We won’t be touring there. We can’t get in the way of the time-sensitive workers and the storage is confidential.”

Doog: “So, these are the more permanent containers for the Disodium Helide?”
Barthold: “Yes. The casing’s machinery can keep the compound stable indefinitely…well, as long as there is a power source.”
Doog: “Judging by the armory comment earlier, are these bombs?”
Barthold: “Yes…very destructive ones at that. N-A-2-H-E, as I previously mentioned, violently decompresses. There’s no chemical reaction required; only depressurization.”
Doog: “Huh?”
Barthold: “When the weapon is dropped, the pressure stabilization can be turned off whenever you choose. The Disodium Helide decompresses about .0005 seconds after.”
Doog: “Essentially, you can control when these bombs explode.”
Barthold: “Yes, it will explode at whatever height, depth, or time you choose. It’s a very customizable munition.”
Doog: “I…think that’s all I need. Thanks for everything.”

Doog: “Well folks, that’s Frendo. This place makes bombs from the exotic material, Disodium Helide. This chemically volatile substance is made by launching pure sodium and helium into the extreme crushing depths of the gas giant. I wish I knew what was happening on this planet before I called my guide a butt-hole-wiener. I’m a little scared now. He’s probably not my ‘Frendo’. See what I did there? Oh well, see ya!”
 
 
Note: Disodium Helide bombs explode at roughly the same pressure they are created, 113 gigapascals. This is enough to level several city blocks, especially if depressurized as an air burst. Unlike similar munitions of its power, Disodium Helide bombs leave no radiation; only sodium and helium.