Doog: “Welcome to another episode of LIU Atlas. I’m your host, Terrance “Doog” McDoogal. Today, we’re visiting the ocean world of Nemus. Nemus has no exposed landmasses. The entire world is covered in one large ocean. Occasionally, there’s ice masses near the planet’s winter pole, but they rarely survive the changing of the seasons. If there are any structures here, they’ll be underwater. Let’s head down and find out.” 

Doog: “When you imagine an ocean world, you often think of a tropical paradise with blue skies and crystal-clear waters, but, most of the time, that’s not the case. Planets with this much water generate lots of clouds and lots of rain. As you can see, Nemus is no exception. It’s storming pretty hard right now. This landing platform is probably a lightning magnet, so I don’t want linger. I believe the building behind me is some type of elevator that leads to an underwater facility. Let’s head inside.”

Doog: “Whoa! Holy crap! You scared me. I wasn’t expecting anyone to be in here. Are you, like, an elevator attendant or something?”
Sylvia: “No, I’m Silvia, your guide.”
Doog: “Why are you just standing in an elevator?”
Sylvia: “Well, I was waiting on the landing platform until this storm rolled in.”
Doog: “Fair enough. So, where are we heading?”
Sylvia: “We’re descending to the Trident Research Station.”
Doog: “Research facility? So, you’re a researcher?”
Sylvia: “I am. I’m a marine biologist.”
Doog: “Biologist. That means you’re studying animals, right?”
Sylvia: “Correct. Nemus is home to an abundance of diverse life. We’re here studying it.”

Sylvia: “Welcome to Trident Station. This is the main level. It’s home to the dormitories and laboratories.”
Doog: “How deep underwater are we?”
Sylvia: “It depends on the storm surge and lunar tides, but you’re about twenty-five meters under the surface.”
Doog: “Yikes.”
Sylvia: “What?”
Doog: “I can do space and poisonous atmospheres all day, but there’s something about being underwater that makes me claustrophobic.”
Sylvia: “Being underwater can have that effect. It’s not for everyone. Don’t worry, though. I can assure you that Trident is one hundred percent safe. It’s been here a decade without any problems. Head into room thirty-two, on your left.”

Doog: “Wow, cool aquariums.”
Sylvia: “We prefer to call them artificial environment tubes, but, yeah, aquariums…more or less.”
Doog: “I don’t recognize most of the species in there, just the octopus.”
Sylvia: “A Septipus, actually. These are all species endemic to Nemus. You shouldn’t recognize any of them.”
Doog: “Septipus? Oh, I get it. It only has seven arms.”
Sylvia: “Yes. The differences don’t stop there. I could go on for days.”
Doog: “No need for that, because I could only listen for minutes.”

Doog: “What about this other stuff? Are they some type of corals?”
Sylvia: “They resemble corals in some ways, but they’re actually more closely related to predatory plants.”
Doog: “Predatory plants?”
Sylvia: “Yes. They obtain energy from the sun, but the rocky soil here is lacking in nutrients. They must obtain nutrients from other sources, usually microorganisms in the water. The diversity here is driven by this need. Each species has developed new ways to capture these microorganisms.  Some are filter feeders. They inhale lots of water and filter out the microorganisms. Some of them have sticky appendages to catch microorganisms in the current. Some have even developed to be parasitic to other species.”

Doog: “Interesting, I guess. How is this useful to the LIU, though?”
Sylvia: “Anytime there’s diversity on this scale, there’s at least a few useful species.  The wildlife of Nemus is no exception. We’ve already documented several useful species, from medicine producing grasses to pollution sequestering flowers.”
Doog: “Nemus could probably get in on the aquarium trade too.”
Sylvia: “Absolutely. In fact, that’s what we’re testing here. We’re checking to see if these species can survive in smaller environments.”
Doog: “Got it. Well, I guess that about wraps it up.”
Sylvia: “What do you mean? You just got here.”
Doog: “Well, we toured the facility and saw some of the creatures in these convenient tanks. I figured we were done.”
Sylvia: “There’s way more biodiversity on Nemus than what’s in these tanks.”  

​Sylvia: “The only way to experience this biodiversity is to head out into the field.”
Doog: “I was afraid you were going to say that.”
Sylvia: “Did you think you get out of underwater portion of this tour?”
Doog: “I didn’t think it would work, but it was worth a shot. Are we taking one of these giant mech-thingies down? That might ease my concerns a bit. They look sturdy.”
Sylvia: “The Neptune Hardsuits are sturdy. We couldn’t do what we do without them. They extend our research range by miles and miles. But, no, we won’t be taking one.”
Doog: “Of course not.”

Sylvia: “Let’s knock out a few safety checks, and then we’ll hop into this moonpool.”
Doog: “Fine. Oxygen on, check. Helmet sealed, check. Sweating excessively, check. Nervous gas, check. Yeah, I think I’m ready to go.”

Doog: “Ok. It is a little busier out here.”
Sylvia: “I told you. The artificial environment tubes don’t compare to the real thing.”
Doog: “Hey! Look. There a little observation room right over there. We could have seen this from the inside.”
Sylvia: “We could see this, yes, but there’s a lot more further from the station. Come on. Let’s get closer.”

Doog: “Any dangers I should be aware of?”
Sylvia: “Not really. The species here are all pretty safe.”
Doog: “Are you sure? I think this Septipus is eyeing me up.”
Sylvia: “Unless you’re a microorganism, you’re safe. I promise.”
Doog: “Yeah. I see you Septipus. You can eye me up all day as long as you stay over there.”

Sylvia: “Septipi are slow-moving filter feeders. You’re fine. If you want to worry about something, these red stalks and those golden bulbs are much more dangerous.”
Doog: “I thought you said nothing was dangerous!”
Sylvia: “Dangerous was the wrong word. They’re more of a nuisance. Their sticky appendages can get you all tangled up.”
Doog: “Great.”
Sylvia: “Their appendages are kind of hard to see too. They’re blue, like the water.”
Doog: “One might say we're in a sticky situation...”
Sylvia: "That was terrible."

Doog: “These gardens, for lack of a better term, seem to stretch forever.”
Sylvia: “They’re plentiful, but they don’t stretch forever. This ecosystem is limited to the shallows of the euphotic zone, where there’s sufficient light for photosynthesis. You won’t see any of these species below thirty-five meters.”
Doog: “So, anything deeper than that is barren?”
Sylvia: “Hardly. Follow me.”

Doog: “This is unexpected. Is this some type of underwater forest?”
Sylvia: “It is. We call them Nemus trees.”
Doog: “I thought there isn’t enough light at this depth.”
Sylvia: “There’s not enough light for the shallow species, but there’s plenty of light for these trees. They have a few advantages that help them out. They grow higher to get closer to the light. We’re at about 35 meters now, so these aren’t as tall. But, Nemus trees can grow dozens of meters high. Their wide canopies help capture more light as well.”
Doog: “I see.”
Sylvia: “Nemus trees live anywhere from 35 meters to 90 meters. They’re the most dominate species on the planet, constituting about half the planet’s biomass.”

Doog: “What about the deficient nutrients in the soil?”
Sylvia: “Another adaptation took care of that. See that pink fleshy organ there?”
Doog: “Pink fleshy organ? Did my suit come undone?”
Sylvia: “Don’t make this weird. You know I’m talking about the tree.”
Doog: “I know. I know. I’m just trying to inject some humor into these biology lessons. I see the pink organ on the tree.”
Sylvia: “This sac-like structure pulsates, drawing water in and out. Microorganisms also get drawn and out.”
Doog: “Pulsating pink fleshy organs…must bite tongue…trying to stay appropriate.”
Sylvia: “Anyway…Nemus trees, like their shallower cousins, are predatory filter feeders. They derive nutrients from microorganisms instead of the soil.”
Doog: “I know this sounds weird after the whole ‘organ’ business, but do Nemus trees have wood? Are they harvested by the LIU? Are there underwater lumberjacks or something?”
Sylvia: “Their trunks do contain lignin, which makes them similar to wood. Unfortunately, they grow much too slow to be harvested. A lot of these trees grow in depths with little sunlight. It takes centuries for the deepest trees to reach full height.”
Doog: “Interesting. Well, that about wraps…”
Sylvia: “We’re still going deeper.”
Doog: “Sigh.”

Doog: “It’s getting a lot darker the farther we descend. More barren too.”
Sylvia: “It is. This is the dysphotic zone, also called twilight. It gets darker here every meter you descend. There’s not enough light for photosynthesis, so there’s no life here. Not even the Nemus trees can grow at this depth.”
Doog: “Speaking of depths, how deep are we now?”
Sylvia: “We’re about 150 meters deep.”
Doog: “I shouldn’t have asked. This is insane.”
Sylvia: “To go any deeper, we’re going to need to switch out some equipment. We’ll need different gas mixtures and some form of illumination.”
Doog: “Different gases?”
Sylvia: “At these pressures, it’s not safe to use a normal gas mixture. Nitrogen and oxygen become poisonous under higher pressures. Nitrogen narcosis and oxygen toxicity will become an issue. This deep-water satellite station should have what we need.”
Doog: “This is a satellite station?”
Sylvia: “Yes. Smaller stations, like this, are spread amongst the research area. They serve many purposes. They extend the research range. They have emergency equipment and spare parts. Most even have recharging ports for Neptune Hardsuits.”

Doog: “I’m really freaking out. We’ve been dropping down this cliff into darkening waters for too long.”
Sylvia: “We’re almost there. This is the Nemus trench. The deepest point on the planet. The trench varies is depth, it can be anywhere from three-hundred meters to a thousand meters.”
Doog: “Tell me we’re in the three-hundred-meter section.”
Sylvia: “We are. I wouldn’t risk anything deeper without my Neptune suit.”
Doog: “Am I seeing things moving down here? Is there life at these depths?”
Sylvia: “There is. This is the trench ecosystem.”

Doog: “Oh, F-me. Tell me that’s not a giant spider.”
Sylvia: “Slow your breathing. It’s not a spider. It’s a Nemus Carrion Crab. It’s not dangerous. They’re very slow moving, like most of the animals down here.”
Doog: “Carrion? Like it eats dead things?”
Sylvia: “Yes. And you’re not dead, so don’t worry. All the species in the trench ecosystem are necrophages, meaning they only eat dead organisms.”
Doog: “It’s big though. What type of dead things are down here? Dead Septipi?”
Sylvia: “Actually, no. They eat the smallest dead things. Like their shallower cousins, they’re filter feeders. The only difference, they eat dead microorganisms. When microorganisms in the shallows die, their bodies fall. Currents bring them to the planet’s trenches. It’s called marine snow.”

Doog: “Ok, this huge thing eats dead stuff too? I find it hard to believe.”
Sylvia: “Well, it’s true. Although the Nemus Sieve Fish is the largest organism on Nemus, it eats the smallest organisms. It swims near the ground inhaling detritus disturbed by its movements. They’re slow moving, though. Energy conservation is must at these nutrient lacking depths.”
Doog: “It has some huge eyes. That seems to be a waste.”
Sylvia: “Sieve Fish stay near the shallower depths of the trench ecosystem, anywhere from three-hundred to four-hundred meters. Less than one percent of light penetrates to this depth. The miniscule amount of light is unperceivable to our eyes, but not to the Sieve Fish. Their large eyes can make out faint amounts of light. It’s not really enough to see, but it allows the fish to stay oriented to the seafloor and determine depth.”
Doog: “This is all so complicated, and it’s going to get worse. I see some type of plant or coral down here too. I’m afraid to ask about it. I’m already overloaded on information.”
Sylvia: “I’ll keep it simple then. They’re not plants or coral. They’re a type of fungus. We call them Dish Mushrooms.”
Doog: “Because of their dish-like shape?”
Sylvia: “Exactly. This dish or cup collects falling marine snow which is converted to energy. The green sphere at its center is its fruiting body.”
Doog: “Simple enough. This planet already has so much weird stuff; why not throw some deep sea shrooms?”

Doog: “Well folks, we’ve just explored the biodiverse world of Nemus. This ocean planet sports many ecosystems, each at a different depth. There’s shallow reefs, massive forests, and deep mushrooms. All these ecosystems seem to be dependent on the planet’s smallest microscopic creatures. Sylvia and her team are busy studying all this life, so one day, it can be exploited by the LIU. I’ve got a long way back, so I better get started. See ya!”
 
 
Note: Researchers have logged over 100,000 species on Nemus, only ten percent of the estimated one million species. 

Doog: “Welcome to another episode of LIU Atlas. I’m your host, Terrance “Doog” McDoogal. Today, were touring the factory world of Sudor. Sudor is home to the LIU company, Engyne, which makes hyperspace engines. Their entire operation is based on the planet. Materials are obtained from the northern mines. These materials are then turned into engines and engine parts in massive factories in the planet’s capital, Gero. That’s where we’re headed.” 

Doog: “Alright folks. There’s no need to adjust your TV’s. I am, in fact, wearing a tutu. When Timbo bailed us out a few weeks ago, we had to give in to a few of his demands. Some demands were simple, like rights to one of the Magellan’s beds for a month. Others, well, were much harder, like doing an episode while wearing a leotard and a tutu. I guess picking on Timbo all of these years finally backfired.”

Doog: “Wearing this, on any planet, would bring soul-shattering embarrassment, but it might be even worse on Sudor. The natives here are known to be crass and xenophobic. They probably wouldn’t like me, even if I dressed normal. Also, it looks like all the males here have creepy pornstaches. It’s weird enough on its own, but now I’m worried this whole tutu-business might be putting out mixed signals. I won’t have a guide on Sudor, another of Timbo’s demands, so I guess I’ll just wing it. Here we go.”

Doog: “Uh, hey gents. Enjoying a drink at this local establishment after a hard day in the factory?”
Native #1: “You’ve got to be the worse prostitute I’ve ever seen. Why don’t you take a hike?”
Doog: “I’m definitely not a prostitute. I’m the host of a TV show.”
Native #1: “Look, human, we don’t give a crap what your profession is. That spandex you're wearing is an affront to my eyes. I’m seeing too many of your body contours. I’m going to be sick.”
Native #2: “I don’t know, a few more drinks, and I might be able to make this work. Meet me in the alley in two hours.”
Doog: “Uh…no thanks. I think I’m just going to leave now.”
Native #2: “Your loss.”
Doog: “Alright folks, lesson learned. Talking with the unpleasant natives might not be any easier when they’re drinking. Also, my worries of mixed signals have come to fruition. Let’s move on.”

Doog: “Ok. I thought this was a walking path, but clearly, it’s a road. I might be in trouble here. Lots of angry motorists are honking their horns and shouting profanities at me.”
Motorist: “Get out of the road, fat ballerina!”

Doog: “Hey! I’m not a ballerina!”
Motorist: “So, you’re not denying be fat, then?”
Doog: “Well, it’s debatable. This spandex is not doing me any justice.”

Doog: “Alright, alright. I’m off the road. I’ve ventured into some type of factory. I’m not sure it’s safer in here. This is one of the hottest rooms I’ve ever been in. Apparently, there’s no air conditioning on Sudor.”

Doog: “It looks like the natives are in some type of hardsuits, probably to counteract this heat. They seem to be melting down some type of crystal. I have no idea why, though. Uh…please don’t yell at me, but what are you doing?”

Worker: “What am I doing? What are you doing? The fusion kilns are no place for a dancer, moron.”
Doog: “Fusion kilns? What are they for?”
Worker: “Why does it matter? Are you thinking about switching professions? Stripping isn’t paying the bills?”
Doog: “I would argue, but it doesn’t seem like that matters to you guys. Yes. I am thinking about quitting stripping.”
Worker: “Very well, then.”

Worker: “The kilns are for melting down and reshaping aluminum oxynitride crystals. Fusion kilns are the only thing hot enough.”
Doog: “Got it? And why are you doing that?”

Worker: “You sure ask a lot of questions, prima donna.”
Doog: “What can I say…I’m ambitious.”
Worker: “The crystals are being formed into glass containers. These containers then go downstairs and get modified further.”
Doog: “I guess that’s where I ought to go next.”
Worker: “Hey! I thought you wanted to work the kilns? Did you just waste my time?”
Doog: “Uh…I…uh…forgot my hardsuit downstairs. I’ll be back.”
Worker: “You better.”

Doog: “Wow. It feels amazing in here. I don’t think there’s even air conditioning, but it has to be ninety degrees cooler in here. This leotard is going to give me some extreme chafing if this sweating continues.”

Doog: “It looks like the aluminum oxynitride containers come down here from the kilns. It’s some type of assembly line.”

Doog: “It looks like the containers are being hollowed out and fitted with copper components. I’m not sure what this has to do with building engines. I’m certainly not going to ask a native, though.”

Doog: “The containers are being filled with some type of gel, and then they are being placed on some type of charging station. I know what these are. They’re miniature power cells.”

Doog: “It looks like some are being boxed up to be sold as parts. Others are being sent further down the line.  I’m kind of proud figuring this out on my own. Tutu aside, this is galaxy-class investigative reporting here. Unless I’m totally wrong, and I’m just making all this up. Then, this is just another embarrassment to add to this episode.”

Doog: “I’m sort of just wandering around aimlessly. I’m not even sure if I supposed to be in this factory. I guess I can play the crazy card if I get stopped by security. That’s one thing this attire will help me with.”

Doog: “They could have cut the corporate branding down a bit and put some maps in here. That would help. If you work for Engyne, you already know what Engyne is. Why bother put a sign in here? It’s almost like the person that designed this sign is too proud of his work, so he shoves it everywhere.”

Doog: “This looks promising. It’s another assembly line; a much larger and busier assembly line. There’s robot arms whirling around everywhere. It’s pretty loud too.”

Doog: “I think this is where the magic happens. This is where hyperspace engines are built. I seem to have entered the assembly line towards its end. The engines are mostly assembled at this point, but it appears that the finishing touches are being added. Look! This machine next to me is inserting the power cells we saw earlier. There’s some episode continuity for you. I totally did that on purpose.”

Doog: “The power cells then get sealed into the engine, and the whole things gets scrubbed down and polished. Seems simple enough.”

Doog: “Am I getting this right? Is this the Engyne engine factory?”
Worker: “Are these sixteen-hour shifts catching up with me or am I really being interviewed by an obese cross-dresser?”
Doog: “Sigh. You Sudorans sure speak your mind. Look, you’re not hallucinating. I’m really here. I’m slightly overweight, to some eyes, and yes, I’m wearing this.  It’s a long story, but we can put it all behind us if you just answer a few questions.”
Worker: “I’ll do anything to make this stop.”
Doog: “Alright, can you confirm that this the main Engyne factory?”
Worker: “I don’t know about it being the main factory. Sudor houses dozens of factories like this. Each one makes engines and engine components. Some places make bigger engines. Some make smaller ones. Some, just make parts. I guess this is an average Engyne factory.”
Doog: “Good deal. This place is a good representation of a typical factory here. That satisfies the economy portion of this show. Is there anything else worth exploring on Sudor?”
Worker: “Do you mean sexually?”
Doog: “What! No! Why would you think that?”
Worker: “I don’t know. You look like you’re into weird stuff.”
Doog: “Well, I’m not. At least, I’m not into that type of weird. I’m talking about points of interest. Is there anywhere a visitor to Sudor should check out before leaving?”
Worker: “Not really. There’s mostly just factories, apartments, and bars.”
Doog: “Alright. I think I’m done here.”

Doog: “Well folks, this has been a humiliating experience. But, despite my embarrassing attire and lack of guide, I think we got a good idea of what Sudor is all about. It’s a factory world that mass produces starship hyperspace engines. It’s home to the Engyne Corporation and some extremely rude natives. Oh well, time to get this ridiculous tutu off. See ya.”
 
 
Note:
Engyne worker, please don’t whine,
work your hours on the assembly line.
If production stays on track,
do you want your money or a recognition plaque?

​The Ludgonian Industrial Union's galaxy contains billions of stars and billions of planets. Unfortunately, most residents of the LIU could only name a handful of these worlds. In order to improve astronomy grades across the LIU Galaxy, TV2 has started a new program called LIU Atlas. Follow our host, Terrance McDoogal, as he takes you on a tour across the LIU and some of its more obscure worlds.


Note: This episode is presented in full screen. The corresponding dialogue is underneath each photo.

Doog: “Welcome to another episode of LIU Atlas. I’m your host, Terrance “Doog” McDoogal. Today, we’re visiting the Nihil Void, a starless region in the galaxy’s Gamma Arm. From the void’s center, you would have to travel about 300 light years in any direction before running into any type of star or planet. It’s a big empty space. Larger ships, like the Magellan, have no trouble traversing the Nihil Void. In fact, the lack of obstacles makes hyperspace flight quick, easy, and safe. Smaller ships aren’t so lucky though. The void can be a bit of a hazard. Running out of fuel or breaking down in the void could be a death sentence. Smaller ships might not have the resources to wait for a rescue. A whole deep-space service industry was born within the void to combat this very problem. The Nihil Void is filled with dozens of small space stations aimed at helping smaller ships. We’re heading into the void to check them out.”

Doog: “First things first, we’re going to need to switch to a smaller ship. The stations within the void are not designed to link up with ships like the Magellan. We’ve made arrangements to get a Void Taxi. We just need to pick it up at the Last Stop Hotel.” 

Doog: “Last Stop Hotel…sounds like a place you go to get murdered. The only way it could be worse is if they named it, ‘Final Resting Place’.”
Mike: “I think it’s aptly named. It’s literally the last hotel for hundreds of light years.”
Doog: “Remind me why I brought you guys?”
Cam: “We’re shooting a show in deep space. I’m going to have to use the Space Cam to get most of the shots. That’s why I’m here. I can’t speak for Mike and Oldie.”
Mike: “Uh… I have…important deep space audio duties. Yeah, let’s go with that.”
Oldie: “Don’t lie. You just didn’t want to spend all day with Timbo and Hugo. At least, that’s my reason for coming.”
Doog: “Yikes. Oldie’s not pulling any punches.” 

​Doog: “This has to be the most boring spaceflight I’ve ever taken. There’s nothing to see.”
Mike: “We’re in the void, and that’s what the void is, nothingness.”
Doog: “Oh really? Is that what a void is, Mike? Thanks for enlightening us.”
Mike: “I figured that the guy that reads at a third-grade level might need an explanation.”
Doog: “Third-grade! I clearly read at twice that level!”
Oldie: “Wouldn’t that only be a sixth-grade level?”
Doog: “Shut up, Oldie! There’s no need to bring math into this!”
Mike: “Especially math above a fourth-grade level.”
Doog: “That’s it! It’s come to fisticuffs!”
Cam: “Whoa, whoa! There’s no room for fisticuffs. And who says fisticuffs, anyway?”

Taxi Driver: “I have no idea what fisticuffs are, but they don’t sound like a good idea. Listen to your friend.”
Doog: “Ok, ok. Fisticuffs might be an overreaction. I think I’m just hangry. It’s been weeks since we had a real meal.”
Taxi Driver: “Well, you’re in luck. There’s tons of stations out here that sell food.”
Oldie: “I don’t know if there’s money in the budget for eating out. This taxi tour is eating up all the production budget for this show.”
Mike: “Awe, come on, Oldie. There’s fisticuffs at stake here. Surely we can find some wiggle room for one meal.”
Doog: “Do it to prevent the fisticuffs, Oldie. Do it.”
Oldie: “I think this whole thing was a set up, but fine. We can have one meal, but I get to pick where we eat.”
Doog: “Yes! Fisticuffs have been averted.”
Cam: “Seriously, who says fisticuffs? Why are we saying fisticuffs so much? Are we trying to set the record for the most mentions of fisticuffs in a single conversation?”
 
​
Two Hours Later…

Taxi Driver: “We’re approaching the center of the void. We should start running into occasional space stations.”
Mike: “Sweet, finally.”
Doog: “Hey, look guys. There’s a freaking diner out here. Burgers, fries, hot dogs, and PIZZA! Pick this place, Oldie! Please! Please!”
Oldie: “Hmm. That does sound good. But let’s see what else there is first.”
Doog: “Did you not hear about the pizza? Turn up your hearing aids, you old geezer.”
Oldie: “I heard you just fine. And, that geezer comment makes this diner a definite no.”
Mike: “Couldn’t you just be quiet for once, Doog?”

Doog: “I can’t believe you chose a sushi joint.”
Oldie: “Poe’s Sushi. What’s wrong with that?”
Doog: “Well, for starters, we’re at least three hundred light years from the nearest ocean. The freshness of this raw fish must be called into question.”

Mike: “It’s different, I guess. Not necessarily a good different, but different.”
Cam: “You can really taste the chemical preservatives. It’s almost like eating an ammonia filled sponge.”
Oldie: “Alright, alright. This is the worst, but it’s Doog fault.” 

Doog: “How is it my fault? You chose this place.”
Oldie: “You called me a geezer, and I couldn’t let that slide. And, even though the diner would have been vastly superior, I couldn’t choose it. I couldn’t let you win.”
Doog: “So…we’re sitting here eating warm, chemically-laden sushi because I’m a jerk and you’re too petty to let it go?”
Oldie: “More or less.”
Doog: “Fair enough.”

Cam: “Mike and I are the true losers here. We weren’t even in your fight, but here we sit, eating this so-called sushi.”
Doog: “Nah. The true loser is going to be the Magellan’s bathroom tomorrow. I can already tell that this sushi is not going to be pretty coming out.”
Mike: “The ship won’t smell the same for weeks.”
Cam: “You know, if you take the ‘E’ out of ‘Poe’s’, the sign describes this place pretty accurately.”
Oldie: “P.O.S. Yep, that’s about right.”
Mike: “Well, it looks like we’re all friends again. Can we please leave this disgusting space sushi place and continue the show?”
Doog: “We’re friends until the fight for the bathroom starts tomorrow. But, yes. Let’s get going.”

Doog: “Well, we know there’s restaurants out here in the void, but what else is there?”
Mike: “Looks like there’s a fueling station over here. And look, they sell pizza too. We could have avoided the whole sushi disaster after all.”
Oldie: “Gas station pizza? We were probably safer with the sushi.”
Doog: “I think we should probably avoid eating anything in the Void. Just to be safe.”
Cam: “Let’s not jump to conclusions. There’s a shop next door to the fueling station. We might be able to score some cheap food to restock the Magellan. Might be worth a look.”
Oldie: “You had me at cheap.”

Mike: “It smells like I don’t want to be in here anymore. Hail the taxi!”
Doog: “Is that the food or has the sushi aftermath already started?”
Cam: “Ok. I’m man enough to admit when I’m wrong. Shopping for food in deep space is not a good idea.”

Oldie: “I think the smell is coming from that produce. The non-perishables look alright, though. We might be able to grab a few cans of something.”
Doog: “You might want to check the expiration date on those. They look older than you.”
Oldie: “I don’t even see a date on them. The labels look like they were handwritten. Can anyone read Presciant?”
Doog: “Maybe we shouldn’t buy random cans of mystery food.”
Cam: “I’m with Doog on this one.”
Mike: “I like to think that I’m the adventurous type…but maybe not with food.”
Oldie: “Fine. But if I find out these cans were pony soup, I’m not going to be happy.”

Doog: “So, in quick summary, the Nihil Void does not have good food. It’s just too far away from any settled worlds to be fresh. If you were stranded or starving and had no choice, then I guess the stuff they have would be ok.”
Mike: “Edible…yes. Delicious…no.”
Doog: “Alright. So, what else does the void offer?”

Oldie: “Looks like there’s a place to have your ship repaired.”
Doog: “That could be handy out here in the void. Hey, is that a bank over there?”
Mike: “What’s a bank doing way out here?”
Doog: “I don’t know. Taxi guy, what’s up with the bank?”
Taxi Driver: “It’s mostly there for predatory lending. People stranded in the void might need money for ship repairs or food. The bank loans out money with huge interest rates.”
Doog: “That makes a lot of sense. It’s terrible, but it makes sense.”
Taxi Driver: “The bank is good for more than that though. It’s where everyone goes to get single credits.”
Doog: “Single credits?”

Taxi Driver: “Yeah. Single credits for the clubs.”
Doog: “Do you mean strip clubs? I’m actually hating the void a little less now.”
Taxi Driver: “Yeah, of course. You guys didn’t know about the clubs? I thought this was a bachelor party or something. No one voluntarily comes out here unless it’s for the clubs.”
Mike: “We should have skipped that terrible sushi meal and came here. The credits would have been put to better use.”
Doog: “We couldn’t have known. Who would have suspected the Nihil Void would have so many strip clubs?”
Taxi Driver: “It makes a lot of sense actually. There’s lots of lonely travelers passing through here. The clubs do well out here.”
Doog: “What do you say, Oldie? Do you think we can squeeze a few more credits out of the budget and check out the clubs?”
Oldie: “Well, it’s for the show. I guess.”

Doog: “Oldie, I take back everything bad I’ve ever said about you. You’re the best.”
Oldie: “Thanks. This is sort of nice.”

Doog: “It could be nicer though. Right now, we’re just window shopping. The girls are behind the glass. We could be interacting with the goods.”
Oldie: “What do you mean?”

Doog: “There’s a VIP room. Only 30 credits.”
Oldie: “Yeah right. Do you think we have 120 credits to spare?”
Doog: “Well, maybe not 120, but possibly 30. Just send me in. I’ll get the inside scoop for the show.”
Mike: “That wouldn’t be fair!”
Doog: “Of course it wouldn’t be. But we need inside for the show, and Oldie said we couldn’t afford for everyone to go. Blame him.”
Oldie: “I’m not sending anyone in! We don’t have 30 credits!”
Doog: “I reapply everything I’ve said about you! You’re the worst!”

Bunny: “Um, excuse me, gentlemen.”
Doog: “Well, hello there.”
Mike: “Why did your voice get deeper when you said that?”
Doog: “Shut up, Mike! I’m using some classic Doog charm.”
Mike: “I’m so embarrassed for you right now.”
Bunny: “If I can interrupt, there’s no filming allowed unless you plan on compensating the workers.”
Doog: “Uh…we didn’t really think about that. What type of compensation are we talking about? A credit a piece?”
Bunny: “Ha. Hardly. We get paid hundreds for video appearances.”
Doog: “Hundreds? That’s more than I get paid!”
Bunny: “Well, you might want to consider switching professions. Either way, you need to stop filming or cough up the cash.”
Doog: “We’ll stop.”
Bunny: “Very well, but I’m still charging your account for the footage already obtained. “
Doog: “How much?”
Bunny: “I think fifty is fair.”
Doog: “Fifty! Oldie is going to stroke out.”

Doog: “We need to leave.”
Oldie: “Why? Is little Doogy still pouting about the VIP Room?”
Doog: “Well, I was going to tell you nicely, but you deserve this. We might have just bankrupted the show by coming here. We got nailed for fifty credits for filming inside the club. And, every minute we continue to film in here, we’re getting charged more.”
Oldie: “What!”
Doog: “Let’s go, now!”

Doog: “Well folks, that’s the Nihil Void. This starless region of the galaxy is far from empty. The region is populated by dozens of small space stations, each with its own purpose. There’s places to buy food, supplies, and repairs. There’s also some extracurricular places to meet the needs of lonely travelers. I can’t help but to feel that we’re all taking a part of the void home with us, because we now have a void in our stomachs, hearts, and wallets. Can we borrow some credits? Oh well, see ya.”
 

Note:

Oldie: “I came up with a graph to show our financial situation.”
Doog: “Finances going way down. Got it. Very helpful.”
Mike: “At least he’s trying. I haven’t heard any good ideas from you.”
Doog: “Were you not there when I mentioned my Timbo plan?”
Mike: “I was there. And I wouldn’t classify that as a good idea.”
Doog: “Why not?”
Mike: “We’re not robbing Timbo!”
Doog: “What are we going to do then?”
Cam: “We’re going to have to cut something out of the budget.”
Oldie: “That’s the problem though. We’d already cut everything to the bare minimum before the strip club incident. We’re running on minimum food and fuel. What’s left to cut?”
Doog: “Does anyone know how to edit? We can cut out Timbo’s job.”
Timbo: “I can hear everything you’re saying.”
Doog: “This is awkward. Uh…this is just a dream. Go back to sleep. No one will rob or fire you.”
Timbo: “Look. I’ll pay the deficit out of my savings.  But, since Doog was being such a jerk, I’m going to need something in return.”
Oldie: “Name it.”
Doog: “This isn’t going to be good for me…is it?”

Doog: “Welcome to another episode of LIU Atlas. I’m your host, Terrance “Doog” McDoogal. Today, we’re visiting the planet, Curcubeu. Curcubeu is known for its beautiful foliage and iridescent skies. One would think such a photogenic place would be classified as a tourist world, but that’s not the case. Curcubeu is classified as a Feodo. I may know about foliage and skies, but I have no idea what a Feodo is. Let’s head down and figure it out.”

Doog: “Alright folks, I’m now down on the surface. I appear to be in front of some type of walled city. There’s no sign of the aforementioned foliage. There’s nothing but bluish sand as far as the eye can see. I can see Curcubeu’s iridescent sky though. Little rainbow-like clouds shimmer all across the sky. It’s almost like there’s an oil slick or a giant soap bubble suspended above the planet. It’s kind of trippy. Maybe that’s what a Feodo is; a place for recreational drug users to gather and admire the sky. Probably not, but a man can hope.”

Doog: “I’ve been granted access to the city. It’s beautiful. There’s vibrant plant life and crystal-clear pools of water. It’s a big contrast from the blue, sandy desert outside. I wonder why the plants only grow here?”

Iridos: “That’s because the plants only grow near pools of water. There’s little water elsewhere. I’m Iridos, by the way.”
Doog: “I’m Doog.”
Iridos: “Welcome to Curcubeu, Doog.”
Doog: “So, what can you tell us about Curcubeu?”

Iridos: “Curcubeu is pretty simple to understand. It’s not as complicated as some of the other worlds in the galaxy.”
Doog: “How so?”
Iridos: “Life here revolves around the few pools of water scattered across the planet’s surface. They are the most important resource. Obviously, they’re a source of water, but they’re also a source of food. Plants only grow within a few meters of each pool. The pools are vital to survival.”

Doog: “I guess that explains the fort built around it.”
Iridos: “Yes. Long ago, each clan laid claim to a pool, but not all adhered to these claims. Countless wars were fought. Thousands died. Eventually, walled, fortified cities grew up around each pool.”
Doog: “Every pool here has a walled city?”
Iridos: “Yes. Each pool became an enclosed city-state.”
Doog: “Do you guys still fight over these pools? Am I in any danger?”
Iridos: “The costs of attacking a city-state grew as the fortifications and defenses increased. It became increasingly rare for any two city-states to war. The only real threat came from bandits and independents. Of course, the arrival of the LIU ceased all hostilities. They brought peace.”
Doog: “So, no danger then. Not that I was scared or anything. I can handle myself just fine.”
Iridos: “Of course. You look very capable. Well, there not much else to see here. Borlung is a smaller city-state. Follow me.”

Doog: “Finally. Something I can drive without embarrassing myself. Three wheels on the ground make it steady, and this suspension seems to be absorbing every bump. The only way to make this better would be if it steered itself.”
Iridos: “Yes. You seem to be a capable driver.”
Doog: “You know, that’s twice now that you’ve called me capable. Am I sensing a budding romance?”
Iridos: “Uh…no. In regards to sensing romance, you are not capable.”
Doog: “Darn. Just one capable short.”

Doog: “Whoa. This pool looks a bit more fortified than that last one.”
Iridos: “It is. The LIU has taken control of this pool. They’ve made modifications to the defenses.”
Doog: “Why does the LIU want a pool?”
Iridos: “It’s not necessarily the pool they are after. It’s just a central location, where they can enforce the peace. Come on. Let’s head inside.”

Doog: “Your people still live in here? With the LIU?”
Iridos: “Well, of course. The LIU couldn’t just send them packing. The pools are so rare that an eviction of the people would almost be a death sentence. The other city-states couldn’t afford to take them in.”
Doog: “Uh, I guess. It’s rare for the LIU to take things like that into consideration, in my experience. Are your people needed here for something? Like the economy?”

Iridos: “Curcubeu doesn’t have much of an economy, at least in the galactic scale. There’s nothing of value here for an outsider. Our plants sustain us, but most species find them poisonous. Even if the rest of the galaxy wanted them, we don’t have sufficient water to upscale our farming.”
Doog: “I see. What pays for all your fancy stuff then? I saw solar panels and communication equipment back at the last settlement. You all seem dressed nice too.”
Iridos: “Most external wealth comes here in the form of remittances. Many of my people have left Curcubeu to work offworld. They send money back home to their families.”
Doog: “Ah, ok. What about tourism? Surely there’s money to made there?”
Iridos: “To a small degree. Many find Curcubeu beautiful, but there’s not much to make people stay for longer than a day. They come, snap some pictures, and leave. Not much money in it for us. We don’t have anything to sell tourists either, being resource strapped ourselves.”
Doog: “I see.”

Iridos: “The LIU controls and defends the city-state of Dhakken. The city has the largest pool on Curcubeu, which is probably why it was chosen.”
Doog: “Clearly. What is not so clear, is why the LIU is here at all. Why protect and bring peace to a planet with no resources? What am I missing?”
Iridos: “Curcubeu is a Feodo.”
Doog: “That doesn’t help. What’s a Feodo?”
Iridos: “A Feodo is a gift or fee paid to an individual for service to the LIU.”
Doog: “Wait…what? Curcubeu was gifted to someone? Someone owns this planet?”
Iridos: “Yes. The LIU gave control of the planet to someone in return for their services. This is a common practice. The LIU has gifted hundreds of worlds.”
Doog: “I’ve worked for TV2 for ten years and all I got was a stupid certificate. And now, the LIU’s out here giving away whole planets.”
Iridos: “Feodo’s are only gifted to those who make exceptional contributions to the Union. Making TV shows hardly qualifies. Come inside. We need to take the elevator down.”

Doog: “Where are we going?”
Iridos: “To meet the owner of this planet.”
Doog: “Why does the owner live underground on their own planet?”
Iridos: “Not underground. Underwater, in the deepest recesses of the pool.”
Doog: “Weird. Is it anyone I know?”
Iridos: “Doubtful. The owner of this Feodo is from outside the galaxy.”

Doog: “An extra-galactic entity made contributions to the LIU?”
Iridos: “Indeed. Most Feodo’s are given to extra-galactic beings. Many are traitors that join the LIU and hand over information about their home galaxy’s government. Feodo’s are like bribes. Tell the LIU what they need to know, and they gift you a planet.”
Doog: “What kind of information is worth a whole planet?”
Iridos: “Military capabilities, encryption codes, new technology, inside stock tips…there’s lots of things.”

Doog: “Holy smokes, what the heck is that!”
Iridos: “That’s the owner of this planet. We call her Uggi. Her real name is unable to be spoken in Basic.”
Doog: “That thing…that blob of disgusting…owns this planet?”
Iridos: “Don’t be rude. Being extra-galactic, her biology is totally different than our own. It can be difficult to accept in the context of our own biology, but she’s not ugly. Just ignore the exterior and realize that she has a consciousness similar to your own.”

Doog: “She’s looking right at me. She heard me talking about how disgusting she is. I’m in trouble. Aren’t I?”
Iridos: “Settle down. There’s a huge language barrier. She can’t understand anything that’s not translated. Also, she has lots of eyes that are looking at lots of things. You’re not being singled out, so stop freaking out.”
Doog: “Ok, ok. Wait…how does an alien-being rule a planet from the depths of a pool when they can’t speak or understand our language?”
Iridos: “Uggi doesn’t rule the planet. She owns it.”
Doog: “What’s the difference?”
Iridos: “She doesn’t make any decisions concerning Curcubeu’s governance. That’s left to the LIU. However, as owner, she gets to live on the planet for free. She gets access to a personal safety team and access to any luxuries she requires. She also gets a percentage of the revenue generated on the planet.”
Doog: “But Curcubeu hardly generates any revenue. She gets next to nothing.”
Iridos: “More or less. That’s not really the point of the whole Feodo thing. It’s more of a ceremonial, honor thing. Wouldn’t you want to say that you owned a whole planet?”
Doog: “I guess.”

Iridos: “We’ve established communication with Uggi using a form of sign language. She can interpret what we say by looking at the position of these paddles and the color of the LED on the paddle.”
Doog: “How do you understand her? I don’t see in paddles in there.”
Iridos: “Her species communicates telepathically. She has little to communicate with. We developed a language based off of her eye blinks.”
Doog: “She blinks a language?”
Iridos: “Yes. With six eyes, she has over seven hundred different eye arrangements that more than satisfies the requirements for communication. The computer over there can translate the blinks into audio. Go ahead, give it a shot.”
Doog: “Uh…hello there, I’m Doog.”
Paddler: “Look man, I’m talking to this thing with paddles. I don’t know how to say Doog. From now on, you’re known as Chubby Red Shirt.”
Doog: “Hey! Not cool, man! At least give me a better name than that!”
Paddler: “Too late.”

Uggi: “HELLO, CHUBBY RED SHIRT. I AM UGGI. WELCOME TO MY WORLD.”
Doog: “Thanks. So, did you choose this world or did the LIU choose for you?”
Uggi: “IT WAS MY CHOICE. I CHOSE CURCUBEU.”
Doog: “Why?”
Uggi: “IT IS A BEAUTIFUL WORLD. MUCH BETTER THAN MY WORLD. BRIGHTER. MORE COLORFUL.”
Doog: “But can you really experience its beauty from down here.”
Uggi: “I CAN. I CAN THROUGH OTHERS. I CAN SEE THROUGH THE NATIVES EYES.”
Doog: “You get in their heads?”
Uggi: “MY TELEPATHIC ABILITIES ALLOW ME CONNECT WITH OTHER BEING’S VISUAL CORTEXES. I CAN SEE THROUGH OTHER BEING’S EYES.”
Doog: “That’s kind of cool. You experience the planet’s beauty through their eyes. Wait, aren’t you worried about their privacy? What if you see something you shouldn’t?”
Uggi: “EACH FLEETING GLIMPSE IS SAVED TO MY MIND, BUT I ONLY CHOOSE TO RECALL GLIMPSES OF THE RAINBOW SHIMMERS AND COLORFUL GRASSES. THE REST IS FORGOTTEN.”
Doog: “I wish my memory was that selective. I’d like to forget a memory or two.”
Paddler: “I’m not saying that.”
Doog: “Fine. One last question, how did you earn a Feodo? What was your great contribution?”
Uggi: “I CANNOT DIVULGE THE EXACT NATURE OF MY CONTRIBUTION. BUT IT ALSO INVOLVED SEEING THROUGH SOMEONE ELSES EYES. THAT’S ALL I CAN SAY.”
Doog: “I could think of a few ways that could be useful to the LIU. Thanks for your contribution, I guess. Congrats on the planet, too.”
Uggi: “THANK YOU, CHUBBY RED SHIRT.”

Doog: “Well folks, that’s Curcubeu. This stunningly beautiful planet has little to offer the rest of the galaxy, so it was gifted to an extra-galactic being. Gifted worlds, like Curcubeu, are called Feodo. Despite their apparent prevalence, I had never heard of a Feodo before today. Essentially, they’re like fees or gifts paid to exceptional beings that have made great contributions to the LIU. Oh well, I better move on to the next world. I’m going to have to contribute a lot more to earn my own planet. See ya!”
 
Note: 

Doog: “Welcome to another episode of LIU Atlas. I’m your host, Terrance “Doog” McDoogal. Today, we’re visiting the rogue planet Vitta. Vitta directly orbits the center of the galaxy from within the Ribbon Nebula. The nebula is ionized by its biggest star, Lachesis, giving it a bright green appearance. The ionization also makes Vitta’s surface extremely radioactive. Why would anyone want to live here? I guess we’ll find out.”

Doog: “Alright, I’ve been dropped off at a facility on the planet’s surface. The facility is built into a cliffside. I’m assuming most of the facility is underground where it’s safer from radiation. Before we head in, though, let’s take a moment and check out Vitta’s aurora. Ionizing particles from the nebula get trapped in Vitta’s magnetic field. It is the only source of light on the starless planet, other than the faint glow of nearby stars. It’s a sight to see. Well, it’s nice to see until the Geiger Counter on your suit starts reminding you that this is a radioactive hell-hole. Let’s head inside.”

Doog: “Is there a doorbell or something? Hello? Oh, wait the door is opening.”

Doog: “And, we’re in another room with no people or indication on how to proceed. Good times.”

GIT: “Conducting security scan. Please stand still.”
Doog: “Security scan? What type of facility is this?”
GIT: “Zero contaminates located. Please stand by.”

Doog: “That’s a thick door. I guess that’s for keeping the radiation out?”
Clotho: “Nope. It’s quite radioactive inside here too.”

Doog: “I guess I should have gathered that from your choice of wardrobe. So, what’s with the security scans and thick doors?”
Clotho: “This is a prison. Welcome to Vitta Maximum Security Prison.”

Doog: “Oh, I get it. This is one of those torture prisons, like Poena. All the prisoners here are slowly melting due to radiation or something.”
Clotho: “I’m afraid Vitta Prison is not quite so sinister. This is a special prison though. It only holds energy beings.”
Doog: “Energy beings? You mean like the Vis?”
Clotho: “Yes, the Vis are one of five known energy beings in this galaxy. The delinquents of these five races are sent here to be imprisoned.”
Doog: “Oh, yeah? What’s the other races?”
Clotho: “Let’s talk about it inside. It’s pointless to have doors six feet thick if you leave them open.”

Clotho: “I’m Dennis Clotho, by the way. I’m part of the prison’s senior staff.”
Doog: “Nice to meet you. I’m Doog.”
Clotho: “Well, Doog, I want you to keep in mind a few ground rules while you’re in the prison. Don’t touch anything, don’t fall in the radiation pits, and don’t touch anything.”
Doog: “You said that one twice.”
Clotho: “Exactly.”

Clotho: “This is the receiving center. It’s where we take in new prisoners.”
Doog: “Wow, it’s bigger down here than I expected. How does the exterior radiation get through this much structure?”

Clotho: “Well, we’re actually piping radioactive sludge from the surface into pits in the facility. This moat in front of you is actually a river of radioactive sludge.”
Doog: “You purposely pipe radiation down here?”
Clotho: “Yes. It is one of many fail-safes built into the prison. The primary mean of prisoner containment involves electromagnetic shielding, but should the power ever fail…”

Clotho: “…radiation moats and pits will hopefully keep the prisoners contained. Radiation interrupts energy beings’ meta-frequencies.”
Doog: “They can’t pass it?”
Clotho: “Not without severe injuries.”
Doog: “Speaking of severe injuries, can we take a few steps forward. I don’t trust myself on this little platform over the radiation river.”

Doog: “Alright, this first guy is a Vis. I’ve met some of his race before. What’s this other guy?”
Clotho: “That’s a Plasmoid. They live in the corona of the star, Insolo. If he wasn’t being tractored by an energy baton, he’d probably be melting your face off.”
Doog: “Oh, fun. Let’s keep with the tractoring. What did he do to end up here?”
Clotho: “Melted off someone’s face, I believe.”
Doog: “Ok then, his imprisonment seems justified. Maybe we should lock up all the Plasmoids.”

Clotho: “Not all energy beings are bad. Far from it. Many live productive lives in accordance with LIU laws.”
Doog: “Yeah, I guess. The Vis, I met, wasn’t too bad. What’s this Vis in for?”
Clotho: “Illegal migration.”
Doog: “What’s that?”
Clotho: “Energy beings are required to remain at their origin planet or star. They can’t come to other worlds.
Doog: “That doesn’t seem fair.”
Clotho: “It might not be fair, but it prevents lots of problems. The Vis can phase through walls. Should we allow them on planets with sensitive information? Do you want a creeper Vis phasing into your shower? How about a Plasmoid accidentally catching your home on fire?”
Doog: “Ok. Not fair, but maybe justified.”
Clotho: “The majority of the prisoners here have been convicted of Illegal Migration, fair or not.”

Doog: “So, how exactly do you contain a being like this? I mean, he can phase through walls.”
Clotho: “As I stated earlier, we use electromagnetic shielding to keep the energy beings contained. It works similar to the energy batons, only much stronger. First things, first, we need to scan the individual.”
Doog: “Scan?”

Clotho: “You would be remiss to lump all energy beings into the same category. There’s many differences, even between members of the same species. The scan gives us more biological information about the individual, including its meta-frequency, oscillatory rates, and temperature. This information allows us to make a custom electromagnetic shield for each prisoner.”
Doog: “Uh…ok. I totally get it. Let’s…uh…move on.”

Clotho: “It’s not that difficult of an idea. If I was going to put you into a prison, I’d want to know all your biological information. Size, weight, so on.”
Doog: “Let’s not bring weight into this. So, where are we?”

Clotho: “This is Cellblock A. It’s one of eight cellblocks within the prison. All look similar to this.”

Doog: “What am I looking at here?”
Clotho: “This a storage column. Each cellblock holds six such columns. Each column holds sixteen prisoner cells.”
Doog: “Those dome things are cells? How do the beings fit in there?”
Clotho: “With the information gathered from the scan, energy beings can be condensed to a much smaller state. They suffer no permanent damage during the process. Look, you can see our friend from above being condensed in the tube up top.”

Doog: “Wow, not much leg room in there.”
Clotho: “Most energy beings don’t have legs, and the ones that do, are just altering their form to look like a bipedal. Think of these beings as a form of plasma. Plasma can be condensed.”

Doog: “I see each column is also over a radioactive slime pit.”
Clotho: “Yes. Another failsafe. If power was lost for an extended amount of time, the columns drop into the pit and become enclosed within the sludge. It should prevent any escape.”
Doog: “Looks like you guys thought of everything. Anything else?”
Clotho: “Vitta has another purpose. Follow me.”

Doog: “This is the least awkward shower I’ve taken with another man.”
Clotho: “I would hope so. We’re fully clothed.”
Doog: “Indeed. Why are we doing this?”
Clotho: “We must shower off any radioactive particles before heading into the clean portion of the facility. Alright, our fronts look good. Tommy, time to scrub our backsides.”

Tommy: “I MUST go back to college…”

Doog: “What other purpose could a prison possibly have?”
Clotho: “It has a little to do with you.”
Doog: “Me?”
Clotho: “Yes. Your discovery of the Progenitors. We knew an advanced race lived in this galaxy at some point, but you discovered that they were still here. You also discovered that the Progenitors had become energy beings.”
Doog: “I did, I guess. What does that have to do with the prison?”
Clotho: “The LIU has grown fearful the Progenitors will return to power. They are taking steps to prepare any upcoming conflict. Where better to prepare for a fight with energy beings than a place full of energy beings.”
Doog: “You’re testing weapons…”
Clotho: “And defenses.”

Clotho: “The Guttula are a race similar to the Vis, although they rarely take a bi-pedal form. They prefer to remain more like a blob or sphere. They’re much poorer than the Vis, and therefore more desperate. They are commonly recruited for robberies, given their ability to phase through solid matter.”
Doog: “The perfect thief.”
Clotho: “Perhaps, but, as you know, the penalty for theft in the LIU is death. Many Guttula are set to be executed for their crimes.”
Doog: “And they’re executed by the new weapons being developed.”
Clotho: “Yes.”

Clotho: “Over the past few years, the LIU has made leaps forward in energy-based weapons. Crystal technology, recovered on worlds like Vitrum, has made energy weapons twice as powerful.”
Doog: “Excuse me for not listening. I’m solely focused on the being dying in front of me.”
Clotho: “I understand that it might be difficult, but given his crimes…there’s no other choice.”
Doog: “Let’s move on please.”

Clotho: “The final race of energy beings is the Phantasma. They just barely qualify as sentient. They generally stay around their sun, but occasionally they get into the power conduits of passing ships. They get transported to other worlds via these ships, where they cause havoc in power grids.”
Doog: “Sounds troublesome, but it’s a little harsh to kill these little ghost-booger guys for just
eating power. That’s what they do.”
Clotho: “Oh, it is not being executed. As I mentioned previously, we are also testing various defense options. Can we create powerful enough shields to repel a Progenitor attack? Can we stop them from accessing our facilities? We’re just subjecting this energy being to a little electromagnetic distress to test the limits of this technology.”
Doog: “Is this necessary? Do we really need to fight the Progenitors? We’re their progeny. If they ever returned, I think they would seek peace.”
Clotho: “Would they allow their progeny to live in an LIU controlled galaxy? Or would they destroy the system and bring equality to all worlds? The LIU fears the latter.”

Doog: “Well folks, that’s Vitta. This irradiated rogue planet is home to the Vitta Maximum Security Prison, a prison for holding energy beings. While energy beings can be fun and useful, they can also cause a lot of havoc when they leave their homeworlds. Those that choose to leave or cause problems off-world, are imprisoned here. The LIU is also using the facility to prepare for a war with the energy-based Progenitors. A war that no one wants to see, especially the LIU. Hopefully, it never comes to that. Oh well, see ya!”
 
 
Note: Beings consisting of at least 90% energy are considered energy beings according to the LIU Bureau of Naming. Some Space Hippies attempted to classify themselves as energy beings, but their request was denied by the LIU.

Doog: “Welcome to Season Ten of LIU Atlas. I’m your host, Terrance “Doog” McDoogal. Today, we’re visiting the inhospitable, hell-hole of Iacchus. This planet orbits a Thorne-Żytkow Object…a rare type of star where a neutron star has merged with a red giant star. The neutron star now forms the core of the Thorne-Żytkow Object. The core’s rapid spin generates a massive gravitational pull, which impacts all the planets in the system, including Iacchus. This place is a seismic nightmare. It should be a fun place to visit…said no one ever.”

Doog: “Alright, I’ve been dropped off on a little landing pad in what appears to be the middle of nowhere. I don’t see any settlements nearby. It’s not too bad here, yet. The air has a sulfurous tang to it, but I’ve smelled worse. The sun is harsh, but the planet’s thick atmosphere seems to be filtering out most of it. I’d like to investigate the place further, but I’ve been given strict orders to stay on the platform.”

Doog: “I will, of course, be ignoring said orders. There’s these cute little hamster things scurrying around. I must pet one.”

Doog: “I just want to hold you for a bit. Why won’t you come to me? Is it my breath? I ran out of toothpaste, don’t hold it against me. I’ll breathe through my nose.”

Doog: “Hey! What’s the deal! You scared away all the gerbils with your giant wheel vehicle.”
Rūaumoko: “They’re not gerbils. They’re called Punga.”
Doog: “Whatever they are called, I was trying to pet one.”
Rūaumoko: “That would not be wise. They’re timid creatures that tend to bite when handled. They carry many fleas and mites as well.”
Doog: “Uh…is it wrong that I still want to pet one.”

Rūaumoko: “You can do as you wish. If placing yourself in dangerous situations is to your liking, then who am I to stop you.”
Doog: “Well, I wouldn’t say that I like dangerous situations.”
Rūaumoko: “Oh, my apologies. I must have misread the situation. I just thought that your disregard for the safety instructions and your urge to pet the unsafe, Punga, were signs that you liked risky situations.”
Doog: “My disregard for the safety instructions? Oh, you mean the whole ‘stay on the landing pad’ thing. Well, it looked safe enough to me. I didn’t realize it was dangerous.”

Rūaumoko: “Looks can be deceiving. Iacchus is seismically active. We get a strong quake every six to eight hours. Tremors strike even more frequently.”
Doog: “Quakes are scary and all, but we’re outside. Nothing can fall on my head.”
Rūaumoko: “True. But, you are standing right next to a boiling hot mudpot. You could lose your balance during the quake and fall in.”
Doog: “I don’t know if I should be scared or not. What’s a mudpot?”
Rūaumoko: “Volcanism, driven by the numerous quakes, heats water and forces it to the surface.”
Doog: “Like a hot spring?”
Rūaumoko: “Yes, but a hot spring that comes up through the dirt. Essentially, it’s a pool of boiling hot mud.”
Doog: “I’m leaning over a boiling sludge pool on a super-seismic planet. Ok. Now, I’m scared.”
Rūaumoko: “I’m glad you can now see the gravity of the situation. You’ll need to keep the quakes in mind as we continue the tour. Try to keep away from the pools.”
Doog: “Will do.”

Rūaumoko: “The mudpots may be dangerous, but they do offer up an economic opportunity.”
Doog: “Mud baths? Mud masks?”
Rūaumoko: “What? No! You could use any mud for that. It’s not the mud that’s special. The mudpots are full of rock and ore being pushed up from below.”
Doog: “And that’s good? Your people like rocks?”
Rūaumoko: “The rocks contain valuable minerals and elements. It’s like mining without all the hard digging.”
Doog: “Ah, I get it now.”

Doog: “Anything good?”
Rūaumoko: “Excuse me?”
Doog: “Are you mining anything special?”
Rūaumoko: “Ah, yes. Our unique star, as you know, is comprised of a red giant star with a neutron star at its core. This odd merger did not occur peacefully though. Both stars ejected quite a bit of material during the merger. This material eventually coalesced into Iacchus and some of its sister planets.”
Doog: “How does this tell me what you’re mining? Am I missing something?”
Rūaumoko: “If I can continue, the unique situation created an abundance of rarer elements like Molybdenum and Yttrium. Iacchus is loaded with these elements.”

Doog: “You know, with all the scolding and scaring earlier, I forgot to get your name.”
Rūaumoko: “I am Rūaumoko, of the Labor Caste.”
Doog: “Ah, a fellow TV personality. Nice to meet you, Rue-a-Mocha. I’m Doog, of the LIU Atlas cast. So, Rue-a-Mocha, you guys must be loaded with cash. You have all these rare elements, not to mention this Labor show or movie you’re in.”
Rūaumoko: “It’s Rūaumoko, actually, and I’m not part of a movie cast. I’m part of the Labor Caste. Castes are social rankings or positions.”
Doog: “Oh, ok. That makes sense. Who’d want to watch a show about labor anyway? So, your people employ the caste system.”
Rūaumoko: “Indeed. We can talk about it as we make our way to the city.”

Doog: “So, where do you rank in the system, as a laborer?”
Rūaumoko: “Hard to say. Somewhere in the middle, I guess. The caste system has undergone some changes since the LIU arrived several decades ago. It’s not as clear as it once was.”
Doog: “How so?”
Rūaumoko: “The system was pretty linear prior to the LIU era. The Regal Caste was ranked the highest. It consisted of the royal family, the rulers of Iacchus. Then there was the Rata Caste, the divine priests of the old religion. Then came the Fener Caste, the merchants and traders. Then the Labor Caste, miners and farmers. And last and least, the Nequam Class. The ones we do not speak of.”
Doog: “Kings, priests, merchants, laborers, and the unspeakable lower class. Got it. What’s the arrangement now?”
Rūaumoko: “Merchants, Laborers, Priests, and Nequam.”
Doog: “Uh…you forgot one.”
Rūaumoko: “Sadly, I have not. The Fener Caste grew powerful under the LIU. They massed great deals of wealth selling minerals to the LIU. They quickly grew powerful enough to depose the royal family. They were dethroned and then murdered. That caste no longer exists.”
Doog: “Yikes.”
Rūaumoko: “Yes. The Rata/Priest Caste lost a lot of power too. Under the Fener Caste, religion was deemed unessential and banned. It’s not clear if the Rata are considered a caste anymore. They can’t openly practice religion, so they’re essentially useless. They don’t do anything.”
Doog: “That sounds like the best caste. Sign me up for priesthood. I love doing nothing.”

Rūaumoko: “This is the town of Ranginui, one of Iacchus’ largest settlements.”
Doog: “It looks like it was built on stilts. Are there catastrophic boiling mud floods or something?”
Rūaumoko: “They’re not stilts. They’re shocks. They lessen the effects of the quakes and tremors. It’s the only way a city like this can exist.”
Doog: “Ah, cool. Makes sense.”

Doog: “Bring on the quakes! You can’t hurt me now!”
Rūaumoko: “The shocks lessen the effects; they don’t stop them. Best not to tempt fate.”
Doog: “Oh. Ok.”

Doog: “This looks to be some type of food market. A lot of it looks to be imported though. I recognize a lot of these foods.”
Rūaumoko: “Yes. The food situation here is unique. There are few species that can handle this environment. And, those that can, aren’t easy to farm.”
Doog: “What about these pink flowers? They must be native to this planet. I saw them when we were walking through the mudpots.”
Rūaumoko: “Yes. They’re called Rongo. They’re one of two plant species that we’ve been able to farm. They’re not easy to grow though. It wasn’t until interstellar trade brought offworld food here, that our population was able to grow to this size. It was limited by the lack of food and harvestable plants.”

Doog: “Hey, look at that guy. He’s dressed different from everyone else. What’s his deal?”
Rūaumoko: “That’s a member of the Rata Caste. A priest.”
Doog: “Oh, hey! Priest guy! Over here! Let me get an application! I happen to be an expert at doing nothing. My resumé includes numerous references that can all attest to my laziness.”
Rūaumoko: “Doog, stop! It’s still a sore subject! Leave the man alone!”
Doog: “Ok, ok.”

Doog: “So, I’ve seen tons of laborers, and now a priest. Where’s the other castes, though? I want to see all-powerful merchants and the lowly Nequam.”
Rūaumoko: “You’ll never see a Nequam here. They aren’t allowed in cities. However, I can show you the Fener Caste. They live in the center of town. Before we go there, I’d like to show you another feature of Ranginui. Hop into this little hut on the right.”

Doog: “Alrighty then. This is happening.”
Rūaumoko: “The mudpots are too dangerous for direct contact, but their steam does great things for your skin. Certain community huts are built with latticed floors, so steam can rise into the hut. People gather here to relax.”
Doog: “I have got to stop blindly following my guides. I run into too many awkward situations like this.”
Rūaumoko: “Oh, relax. He has a towel on.”
Doog: “I don’t want to argue. Let’s just continue please.”

Rūaumoko: “Things in Ranginui changed just as much as the caste system did. Each caste used to live in certain parts of the city. The outer ring, which we just left, was home to the laborers.”
Doog: “It’s still full of the laborers.”
Rūaumoko: “It is. This section of the city, with a large marketplace, was home to Fener Caste.”
Doog: “Looks like it’s just laborers now.”
Rūaumoko: “Very good observation. As the Fener elevated themselves, they elevated their living situation. The labors moved into the marketplaces, and…”

Rūaumoko: “…the Fener Caste moved into the palaces and temples.”
Doog: “Ooh, fancy. I think I like this merchant caste better. I’d like a nice temple for a home. Let me go up and get an application.”
Rūaumoko: “No! This is no time for hijinks. The Fener are unforgiving of caste violations. Stepping foot on their elevated platform could result in your death or worse.”
Doog: “What’s worse than death?”
Rūaumoko: “You and your family could be downgraded to Nequam.”
Doog: “Man, it must be really bad to be in that social class. I won’t be getting any applications from them.”

Rūaumoko: “The caste system is powerful. Fear of descending the rankings keeps everyone in line. The labor caste outnumbers the Fener a hundred to one, yet no one will ever rise up and challenge the system.”
Doog: “Fear is a powerful suppressant. I stopped eating junk food for a week because I saw a spider in the cupboard.”
Rūaumoko: “I’m not sure they’re the same, but, yes, fear is powerful. So powerful, in fact, many laborers leave bribes or gifts for the Fener at the base of their platform. They adore the merchants like they’re gods.”
Doog: “Luckily, I have no fear of dropping caste levels, because I’m not in a caste. I’m considering grabbing one of these sacrifices for myself. I’m so thirsty. I could use a drink.”
Rūaumoko: “If you’d remember, I said the penalty would be death or drop in social class. You don’t wish to die, do you?”
Doog: “Uh, no. Forgot about that part. Would they really kill me over a drink?”
Rūaumoko: “A drink of Iacchus Wine? Most certainly.”
Doog: “Iacchus Wine. I’ve heard of that, I was offered some on the planet Praestigiae.”
Rūaumoko: “You must have powerful and rich friends, then. Iacchus Wine is known to be a status symbol of the rich.”
Doog: “Well, if you knew the story, my friends there weren’t so great. I’m interested in the wine though. What makes it so special?”
Rūaumoko: “Well, you’re in luck. That’s where we are headed next.”

Doog: “This thing is a little tight for two people. Every bump gets us acquainted more than I like.”  
Rūaumoko: “It’s not ideal, but it won’t be a long ride. The LIU All-Terrain Pod is the fastest way to cross the mudpot plains.”
Doog: “Where are we going anyway?”
Rūaumoko: “To a lava pool plantation.”
Doog: “This place just keeps getting worse.” 

Doog: “Wow, it is sweltering in here. Why would we come here?”
Rūaumoko: “It’s the only place that the Iacchus berry grows.”
Doog: “There’s a plant that grows in lava?”

Rūaumoko: “Not in the lava, on a column surrounded by lava.”
Doog: “How does it survive down here?”
Rūaumoko: “Millions of years of evolution has enabled this berry to grow in imaginably hot chambers. In fact, it won’t live outside these conditions. The plant and berry have thick skin that prevents burning and water loss.”
Doog: “How does it even get water down here?”
Rūaumoko: “Can’t you feel it? The air is really humid.”
Doog: “I guess, all I really feel is burning.”
Rūaumoko: “The same water that boils up to the surface finds its way here. It’s instantly evaporated into steam. The plant absorbs the humid air.”

Doog: “Are those people on the column? Are they crazy?”
Rūaumoko: “Someone has to pick the berries.”
Doog: “How would you talk anyone into doing that?”
Rūaumoko: “The Nequam have no choice. That is their position in this world.”
Doog: “The lowest caste. That’s terrible.”
Rūaumoko: “The collection of the berries is so dangerous that many workers die collecting them. I don’t have access to the math, but it is said that each bottle of Iacchus Wine has four deaths associated with it.”
Doog: “Four sentient lives lost forever for some wine, why?!”
Rūaumoko: “Drinking such a dreadful wine makes powerful people feel…more powerful. Inferior people died to make their drink. It’s a power trip.”

Rūaumoko: “There are only a few dozen lava plantations on the planet. Iacchus berries are in short supply. The rarity of the berries and the cost of life associated with it drives its price way up. Only the richest of the rich can afford it.”
Doog: “I’m sort of at a lost for words. That’s rare for me.”
Rūaumoko: “It has been this way for centuries, way before the LIU arrived. The caste system may have changed structurally under the LIU, but it has always been this harsh to the lowest caste. I do feel bad for them. The caste system hasn’t made us heartless, but there’s nothing I can do for them. I can only be glad that I was born into this caste.”
Doog: “I can see now why the threat of caste reduction is so powerful. For a laborer, it’s essentially a death sentence. You become a Nequam and die picking berries.”
Rūaumoko: “True, but it’s worse than that. When your social class gets reduced, your whole family gets reduced as well. If I acted against the Fener, my whole family would be reduced to Nequam. I would have sentenced my family to death.”
Doog: “That’s depressing. I could use a drink…and not of Iacchus Wine!”

Doog: “Well, I feel a little better just being out of that place. And, I’m glad no one died while I was down there. I don’t know if I could live with that.”
Rūaumoko: “We are in agreeance in that regard.”
Doog: “So, I’m assuming this is some type of winery?”
Rūaumoko: “Yes. This is where Iacchus Wine is processed.”
Doog: “That giant smasher thing looks a bit scary.”
Rūaumoko: “The skin of the berry is very thick. It takes some heavy machinery to break it apart and extract the juices.”

Rūaumoko: “The juice then drains into a filtration system. The system removes some of the chemical components of the juice to adjust its taste. A few chemicals are added too, mostly to achieve a standard coloration. It’s then pumped into fermentation barrels, where it sits for about fifty days. It’s then bottled up and shipped out to the select few that can afford it.”

Doog: “I don’t mean to get negative again, but you have to think about the amount of lives associated with each barrel. If a bottle takes four lives…then what does a barrel take?”
Rūaumoko: “Too many.”

Doog: “Well folks, that’s Iacchus. Everything about this place is a little off. It orbits a super rare star called a Thorne-Żytkow Object. It’s the only star of its type in the galaxy. This rare star’s extreme gravity makes Iacchus a seismic nightmare. There’s mudpots and lava pools. There’s even colossal quakes. Somehow, life found a way to exist here. It hasn’t developed without issues though. The sentient life here has developed a caste system where your lot in life is decided by who your parents are. The system has been tweaked since the arrival of the LIU, but not necessarily for the better. The lowest caste still experiences nightmarish working conditions. Many die every day picking berries to make wine. There’s still hope for them though. The system has already changed once. Maybe it can change again. Oh well, see ya!”
 
 
Note: Accurate data regarding the amount of deaths per bottle has never been officially studied. The unofficial number of four was obtained by taking the total number of deaths divided by the total amount of bottles produced over a one-year period. Its inaccuracy can be attested to many factors, including the differing dangers of individual lava pools and individual worker risks. Unfortunately, there’s no studies planned to obtain a more accurate representation. Four it is. 

The Ludgonian Industrial Union's galaxy contains billions of stars and billions of planets. Unfortunately, most residents of the LIU could only name a handful of these worlds. In order to improve astronomy grades across the LIU Galaxy, TV2 has started a new program called LIU Atlas. Follow our host, Terrance McDoogal, as he takes you on a tour across the LIU and some of its more obscure worlds.


Note: This episode is presented in full screen. The corresponding dialogue is underneath each photo.

Doog: “Welcome to the season finale of Season 9 of LIU Atlas. I’m your host, Terrance “Doog” McDoogal. Today, we’re visiting the gas planet, Excelsus. Excelsus is much smaller than a typical gas planet, being classified as a gas dwarf. Excelsus’ smaller size is to its advantage, though. It’s not plagued with many of the features of its gas giant cousins. There’s less radiation, calmer winds, and lower atmospheric pressure. Excelsus’ habitability is further increased by the fact that it has an oxygen-rich layer of atmosphere. This habitable layer is where we are headed.”

Doog: “Excelsus’ oxygen-rich, habitable layer is about ten miles thick and is found a hundred miles down from space. It’s only here that there’s sufficient pressure and a breathable atmosphere. Of course, there’s no ground anywhere within this habitable layer, so residents must live in a floating arcology known as the Lofted City. The Lofted City, like many other structures on gas planets, utilizes advanced repulsor technology to ride the planet’s strong magnetic field. It floats gracefully among the planet’s thick clouds. Let’s get closer and check out the Lofted City.”

​Doog: “Alright folks, I’ve been dropped off on the top section of the floating arcology. Unlike other arcologies, the Lofted City is open to the elements. It almost appears to be any other city in the galaxy…well…except for the amazing cloud-filled view that stretches below the horizon.”
Lissé: “That’s the beauty of the Lofted City, Doog. It has some of the best views in the galaxy.”
Doog: “I see that. You must be Lissé.”
Lissé: “I am. I’ll be your tour guide for the day.”
Doog: “Good to know. So, what can you tell us about this place?”
Lissé: “My people built this arcology long before our merger with the LIU, when we were still called the Galactic Bureaucracy. Its purpose was much different back then. Excelsus was a mining world, and the arcology helped with the extraction of Helium-3.”
Doog: “The Lofted City used to mine Helium-3?”
Lissé: “Yes, but the arcology wasn’t known as the Lofted City back then. It used to have a much more standard name, like EX-117.3 or something like that.”
Doog: “Not as catchy as the ‘Lofted City’.”
Lissé: “No, it wasn’t. A lot was different back then.”

Lissé: “There wasn’t this many people, for starters. And, of course, none of these bars, clubs, stores, or restaurants were here either.”
Doog: “What happened that changed everything?”
Lissé: “The Galactic Bureaucracy merged with the Ludgonian Empire and the Furnace Worlds of Fornacis to form the LIU.”

Lissé: “The Lofted City is also home to a company called Re-Chain. It happens to be one of the galaxy’s most important industries.”
Doog: “Re-Chain? Never heard of it.”

Lissé: “Most haven’t, but it’s one of the galaxy’s most important financial institutions. When renovating the arcology, the LIU decided to make use of the city’s interior, which wasn’t as tourist friendly. They installed millions of processors that help maintain a blockchain.”
Doog: “Blockchain? I have no idea what that is.”
Lissé: “Really? Uh, how do I explain this in layman’s terms? A blockchain is a continuously growing ledger of transactions that are all linked and secured.”
Doog: “Nope. Still not registering to me.”
Lissé: “Alright. In the LIU Galaxy, there are trillions of financial transactions happening every minute, from some Joe Schmoe purchasing a stick of gum to a company buying millions of computer parts. Every transaction is recorded in a ledger, so the banks know where money needs to be moved. These ledgers are processed into secured-chains of information. They can't be modified or erased without effecting the whole chain. It makes transactions around the galaxy tamperproof and trustworthy.”
Doog: “That makes some sense.”

Lissé: “There’s so many transactions taking place that the blockchains must be broken down into regions. Every region of the galaxy has its own blockchain. Re-Chain takes the blockchains from the various regions and chains them together. It’s the blockchain for the blockchains.”
Doog: “Despite the fact that you said blockchain, like, eighty times during your explanation, I think I get what you are saying. Excelsus has the mother of all ledgers.”
Lissé: “That’s one way to put it.”
Doog: “It seems sort of weird that the LIU would entrust such an important task to a renovated mining facility.”
Lissé: “Excelsus wasn’t chosen randomly. It has lots of features that make it an ideal world for the Re-Chain. As I already said, it had plenty of open space for the millions of required processors. But, more importantly, Excelsus sits close to Nuntius Station #3.”
Doog: “It has access to instantaneous communication with the rest of the galaxy.”
Lissé: “Exactly. The blockchain wouldn’t be much use otherwise.”

Lissé: “The presence of the Re-Chain elevated the economy more than tourism ever would. Obviously, Re-Chain makes lots of money on minor transaction fees, but that wasn’t even the best part. Re-Chain requires thousands of high-tech, high-paid workers to operate. We have system analysists, computer engineers, tech-repairmen, energy experts, et cetera. Excelsus’ population is mostly made up of upper class workers.”

Lissé: “And those upper class, high-paid workers like to spend money. A whole economy has developed around their needs. All these stores, restaurants, and clubs are powered by their spending. The abundance of nice stores and restaurants also increases tourism.”
Doog: “Everything is feeding off this Re-Chain Industry.”
Lissé: “Yep.”
Doog: “Does Re-Chain need any TV Hosts?”
Lissé: “Probably not, but I’m sure you could get into Excelsus’ service industry.”
Doog: “As long as it doesn’t involve food. That one court mandate I have is pretty strict on me not handling food. A guy forgets to wear pants one day and his whole food career disappears.”
Lissé: “I’m not sure I want to hear any more about that.”

Doog: “I guess the Lofted City gets its name from more than its elevation. It sits higher than most cities in wealth and luxury too.”
Lissé: “I guess you could look at it like that.”
Doog: “I’d love to live someplace like this. I could never afford it though. I guess my dream of living here is just a bit too lofty. Lofty…see what I did there.”
Lissé: “Unfortunately.”

Lissé: “The Lofted City has a little something for everyone. Do you like world class food?”
Doog: “Who doesn’t?”
Lissé: “Well, the city has dozens of five-star restaurants and hundreds of four-star restaurants.”
Doog: “I’d settle on a nice two-star joint. That’d be a step up.”
Lissé: “What about hotel accommodations? Do you want sky-view rooms, swimming pools, skywalks, luxury spas? The Lofted City has all of that.”
Doog: “I’ve developed the ability to sleep almost anywhere. My ship only has two beds. Hotels aren’t really important to me.”
Lissé: “Your loss. What about bars and clubs? You look like a guy who parties hard. We have hundreds to choose from.”
Doog: “I could be tempted into a bar. I’ve been known to indulge on occasion. That might help with the sleeping situation too. I really can sleep anywhere with the proper amount of booze.”

Doog: “Speaking of booze, I’d have to be loaded to get onto one of those.”
Lissé: “A hot air balloon?”
Doog: “Yeah. I don’t do heights.”
Lissé: “You realize that Lofted City is essentially a form of hot air balloon, right? We’re floating thousands of feet in the air.”
Doog: “I didn’t really think about it until now. Great, now I’m getting anxiety sweats.”
Lissé: “No need to fret. The Lofted City is stable. It’s not going anywhere.”
Doog: “I would hope. Seems more trustworthy than a balloon, that’s for sure.”

Lissé: “They’re more stable than you’d think. Thermal lifting pads and thrusters make these balloons a lot safer than a standard open-flame balloon.”
Doog: “You still won’t catch me in one. I don’t see the point.”
Lissé: “Aw, come on. You get a breathtaking 360-degree view of endless clouds. You could take a lady friend for a romantic cruise, or grab one of the larger gondolas and throw a sky party.”
Doog: “I’ve always wanted to join the ten-thousand-mile-high club.”
Lissé: “You might lose your deposit doing that, but go for it.”

Lissé: “Ballooning is just one of many sky sports offered here. Hang gliding, parasailing, and skydiving draw many tourists to the Lofted City.”
Doog: “That’s a solid pass on all of those.”

Lissé: “Yeah, it’s not everybody’s favorite thing.”

Doog: “So, what’s there to do for people that don’t like recklessly endangering their lives?”
Lissé: “Plenty. Follow me.”

Lissé: “I’ve already told you about the dining and drinking options here, but there’s a lot more to do.”

Lissé: “Personally, I think the biggest upside of the Lofted City is its fresh air. Pollution is nearly non-existent. The little pollution there is, is highly diluted in the massive atmosphere.”
Doog: “How is that a thing to do?”
Lissé: “Well, sometimes, it’s nice to just sit and relax on one of the city’s many open plazas. Play a game of Conquest with a friend…”

Lissé: “…or enjoy the breeze while you sip on some coffee.”
Doog: “Shoot the breeze while enjoying the breeze. Got it.”

Lissé: “Uh…sure. Anyway, couples, old and young, come here for romantic weekends. There’s nothing more romantic than hanging out together with a beautiful view.”
Doog: “Yeah, and if it doesn’t go well, there’s plenty of overhangs to jump off.”
Lissé: “That escalated quickly.”
Doog: “Sorry. Romance and relationships are a sore spot for me.”

Lissé: “I see. Well, forget romance. How about some bromance? Come with your pals. Check out the stores. Get yourself looking good. The Lofted City is packed with high-end stores.”
Doog: “Very few people on my short list of friends could afford to shop at high-end stores. And…I can’t believe you said ‘bromance’.”
Lissé: “I know. I’m kind of disappointed in myself for saying it. I said it purely for the segue from romance.”

Doog: “Well, can you think of anything else, bro?”
Lissé: “You’re never going to let this go, are you?”
Doog: “Probably not, broseph.”
Lissé: “The one time in my life I get to be on TV, and I say bromance.”
Doog: “Don’t get too worked up about it. No one watches my show.”

Doog: “Well folks, the Lofted City is pretty amazing. High paid, upper-class workers from the important blockchain company, Re-Chain, have brought wealth and class to this floating city. A whole industry has evolved to cater to these workers. These industries have also attracted tourists; not that Excelsus and the Lofted City need any help in the tourist department. Millions of tourists already come here for the amazing views and sky-sports. Well, that wraps up the episode and Season 9 of LIU Atlas. See everyone next year! Happy Consumerism Day to all!”
 
 
Note: The lower portions of the arcology handle many of the city’s day to day functions, like power generation, water treatment, and other maintenance tasks. The citizens living here do not have access to sky views or open plazas. They’re considered the poor of Excelsus, even though the make more money than an average LIU citizen.

Doog: “Welcome to another episode of LIU Atlas. I’m your host, Terrance ‘Doog” McDoogal. Today, we’re visiting the dry, desert world of Arens Frux. Arens Frux orbits the intrinsically variable star, Arenti. Arenti’s luminosity and power output varies as it pulsates. These pulses drive changes in Arens Frux’s weather. Let’s head down and check it out.”

Doog: “Alright, I’ve landed outside a small settlement called Thlath. The air is a bit dry here, but it’s not too hot. I briefly stared at the planet’s sun, but I didn’t note any major variations. I do see dark blotches now. Hope that goes away soon. Oh well, let’s look for my guide.”

Jaf: “Arens Frux, and some of the other worlds I visit, don’t have booming economies. The LIU has invested very little here. They have some interesting things to offer, but it can’t be scaled up to the galactic scale.”
Doog: “So the locals can’t mass produce their product or good.”
Jaf: “Exactly.”
Doog: “What kind of goods are we talking about?”

Jaf: “The locals, known as the Frux, have many things to offer, but the most interesting is their food.”
Doog: “Food? I’m listening.”
Jaf: “Yes, the Frux make several products from Kyseti, the native grain here.”
Doog: “Is that what all these tall plants are?”
Jaf: “Yep. Kyseti is very heat tolerant. It doesn’t need a lot of water either.”
Doog: “I’m a little less excited about the food aspect, now that I know revolves around grain.”
Jaf: “You’d be surprised what you can make from Kyseti. The elite want it for a reason. Head into the blue building on the right.”

Jaf: “The obvious choice for using grain is to make bread.”
Doog: “Oh joy. How exotic…”
Jaf: “Yeah, ok. Breads not too exciting. I get it. But, it is the dietary staple for the Frux. They eat lots of it.”

Doog: “It’s not something you get for the elite, is it?”
Jaf: “Heavens no. Kyseti bread is incredibly dry. It’s almost like eating a spoonful of sand.”
Doog: “That sounds terrible.”
Jaf: “It is. Besides, the Frux have three stomachs to process the bread. You wouldn’t hold up well if you ate it yourself.”
Doog: “I can only imagine what a spoonful of sand feels like coming out the other end.”
Jaf: “Thanks for that image. Shall we continue?”

Jaf: “So, as you’ve discovered, Kyseti isn’t all that great on its own. It needs heavy processing to be turned into edible products.”
Doog: “What sort of processing are we talking about?”
Jaf: “You’ll see. Let’s head below ground.”
Doog: “Below ground?”
Jaf: “Yep. The entrance to underground aquifer is just ahead.”

Doog: “Wow, there’s tons of water down here. I didn’t expect this on a desert world.”
Jaf: “Yes, it is quite rare. The planet has several large aquifers. All are located underground where they are protected from the heat.”
Doog: “I’m guessing that the aquifers are non-renewable. Obviously, rain isn’t replenishing them.”
Jaf: “That’s where you’d be wrong. The planet’s star, Arenti, is a pulsating variable star. As it expands and contracts, its luminosity and power output changes. Every five months, the star cools enough for clouds to form, and the planet experiences a brief rainy season.”
Doog: “If it rains on a desert planet, is it truly a desert planet?”
Jaf: “We’re not talking about a monsoon season. It’s a light drizzle, here and there, for a few weeks.”

Doog: “Wow, that was a long way down. I’m not looking forward to the return trip.”
Jaf: “The descent is about twenty feet. The Thlath Aquifer is one of the closet aquifers to the surface. You lucked out, we could have met at the Hubub Aquifer. It’s about fifty feet down from the surface.”
Doog: “If that were the case, that aquifer would be my new home. I’d never return to the surface. Speaking of which, are we going back up or are we just going to stand here and stare at the water?”
Jaf: “Oh, we’re not going up quite yet.”

Doog: “Do we really need a boat?”
Jaf: “Would you rather swim?”
Doog: “Well, no. I wouldn’t mind wading though. It would be a nice way to cool off.”
Jaf: “Ha. There’s no wading in this pool. Don’t let the shadowy water fool your eyes, it’s way deeper than think. A fifty-foot giant is the only thing wading here.”
Doog: “Boat it is, then. I didn’t realize it was that deep.”
Jaf: “It’s long too. Almost a full mile. It runs the length of the town.”
Doog: “It’s safe to say the locals aren’t running out of water anytime soon.”
Jaf: “Indeed.”

Doog: “I’m not going to lie. It’s a bit freaky down here. There’s little light and almost no sound, other than our voices and the splash of the paddles.”
Jaf: “Yep, and the echo will get to you after a while too. Trust me.”
Doog: “Why are we down here again?”

Jaf: “The Frux rely on these aquifers for survival. Obviously, they offer water and shelter, but they also provide something else.”
Doog: “Swimming pools? Romantic gondola rides?”
Jaf: “No, they offer a food source.”
Doog: “I was so close. I few more guesses, and I would have had it.”

Doog: “What kind of food? Fish? Crabs?”
Jaf: “I’ll just tell you. There’s no way you can guess.”
Doog: “So, it’s something weird. I need to guess weird things. Taco eels? Fruxian Frankfurter Snails?”
Jaf: “What! How did you know!”
Doog: “Wait! I was right?”
Jaf: “No, not even close.”

Jaf: “The aquifers have a unique species of bacteria.”
Doog: “They eat bacteria? That’s their food source? You’re right. I never would have guessed that.”
Jaf: “Well, they don’t eat it directly. It’s used to convert Kyseti into something more edible.”
Doog: “Ah, that explains the chute with Kyseti sliding down it.”
Jaf: “Yes. Kyseti is sent down into maturation chambers, like this. Water, containing the bacteria, is pumped up into the tank. The ultra-dry Kyseti absorbs the bacteria rich waters.”
Doog: “And, somehow, a bacterial infection makes it more edible?”
Jaf: “In a way. Follow me.”

Jaf: “The hydrated Kyseti is removed from the tank after a few days. The bacteria in the water has started to break it down. It’s now this soggy, red stalk.”
Doog: “I see. It smells like old beer or the carpet in a college frat house. Wait…do they make beer? Is that why you carried a bottle with you this whole time? Are you holding out on me Jaf?!”
Jaf: “No. I carry this bottle, of water, so I don’t have to drink the bacteria water here. Also, they don’t make beer. They make cheese.”
Doog: “Cheese! That’s random. They feed this fermenting Kyseti to cows?”
Jaf: “No, the cheese is made from the Kyseti.”

Doog: “I don’t want to embarrass you, but cheese is made from milk.”
Jaf: “Cheese is made from the protein, casein. It’s commonly found in milk, yes, but it is also found in Kyseti. Plant milk, if you will.”
Doog: “Impossible.”
Jaf: “It’s not impossible. It’s happening right here in front of you. The Frux extract the plant sap or plant milk by crushing it up.”
Doog: “That has got to be the worst cheese ever made. Grain cheese? Are you kidding me!”
Jaf: “It’s pretty good. The elite seem to like it.”
Doog: “That’s what you’re here getting! Plant cheese!”
Jaf: “Let’s keep going. Maybe I’ll let you try some.”
Doog: “I’ll come, but I don’t know about trying any.”

Doog: “There was another entrance right next to the cheese-making? Why did we bother going down the other entrance?”
Jaf: “And skip the boat ride? That’s the best part. Besides, I wanted to show the architecture and grain chute. We would have gone out of order if we used this entrance.”
Doog: “Vegetarian cheese and long cuts don’t make Doog happy.”
Jaf: “You’re still bothered by the whole cheese thing? Why does it matter? If it’s delicious, who cares what it is made of?”

Doog: “I don’t know. If plants can be cheese, what other things can they be? Steak, bacon, tacos…my whole world has been turned upside down. I don’t know if I can identify as a carnivore anymore.”
Jaf: “Are you have an identity crisis over plant cheese?”
Doog: “I think I am.”

Jaf: “Kyseti sap is processed in the same manner as milk. Separation of curds and whey, pressing, coagulating. All that cheese stuff. I’m a Procurement Specialist, not a cheese expert.”

​Doog: “It smells really sour. I’m having second thoughts about trying this Kyseti Cheese.”
Jaf: “I think that smells coming from the whey, not the cheese.”
Doog: “Coming from which way?”
Jaf: “No, the whey. They liquid cheese byproduct.”

Jaf: “There. There’s the final product, Kyseti cheese.”
Doog: “Looks like cheese. But, will it taste like cheese?”

Jaf: “Ooh, this is some fresh stuff. I’ll be able to mark this way up.”
Doog: “What do you mean?”
Jaf: “I buy this stuff for cheap from the Frux. I can get a few cheese wedges per credit. I then turn around and sell this stuff to the elite for five to ten credits a wedge. That’s where I make my profit, and how I survive.”
Doog: “That sounds lucrative.”
Jaf: “It’s not too bad. Of course, the cheese seasons match the rain seasons here. So, I can’t rely solely on Arens Frux. I have a few other worlds I hit up from time to time.”
Doog: “Why didn’t I think of this? As much as I travel the galaxy, I could easily be part-time Procurement Specialist.”
Jaf: “Yeah, maybe. Just stay out of my territories.”

Jaf: “As promised, here’s some cheese for you.”
Doog: “Smells ok. Texture is good. Hmm, this is amazing. Wow, I must reexamine my whole life now. Can plants offer something worthwhile, after all?”
Jaf: “It’s just cheese, Doog. Settle down.”

Doog: “Well folks, Arens Frux was an eye-opening experience. Apparently, the planet’s native grain, Kyseti, can be manufactured into a type of cheese. A really good cheese, too. Professional buyers, like Jaf, come here to obtain the cheese for the galaxy’s rich and elite. I’m thinking about grabbing a few wedges for the road, some to eat and some to sell.”
Jaf: “Too late, I just bought out this whole shop.”
Doog: “Dang it! Oh well, at least I can enjoy this piece. See ya later!”
 
 
Note:

​Kyseti cheese is spoil resistant, staying edible for many years. The Frux make and store the cheese for periods of extended drought or famine, when Kyseti Bread may not be available. Recently, the Frux have begun to sell off this safety net to make more money for HoloTV’s and subspace communicators. Experts believe the Frux are now susceptible to an extinction-level crop failure.  

Doog: “Welcome to another episode of LIU Atlas. I’m your host, Terrance “Doog” McDoogal. Today, we’re changing up the format a bit. We won’t be focusing on a star, planet, moon, or space station. Instead, we’ll be taking a look at a region of space along the Viarum Hyperspace Route.  The Viarum Hyperspace Route is one of the galaxy’s oldest space lanes. It connects the Mid-Rim to the outer reaches of the galaxy’s Alpha Spiral Arm. Essentially, it links the planet Mercor to the export-shipping world of Mordax. The route is not perfect though.  Certain gravitational anomalies make the route dangerous and, sometimes, unpassable. To fix this issue, the LIU plotted an alternative hyperspace route, called the Alpha Correction. The Alpha Correction is longer, and therefore slower, than the Viarum Hyperspace Route. Most travelers prefer the old route, but they don’t always have a choice. The point at which these two routes diverge is known as the Naufragus Point.”

Doog: “The Naufragus Point is somewhat of a misnomer. It’s not an actual point. It’s a region of space several hundred light years across. It’s where the two hyperspace routes begin to fork.  A small space station, called Waypoint A, marks the start of this region of space. That’s where we are headed.”

Doog: “Alright. I’m here in the astrometric lab on Waypoint A. This is where the gravitational anomalies effecting the Viarum Hyperspace Route are studied and monitored. Let’s find someone who knows what is going on around here.”

Smith: “Greetings. Welcome to Waypoint A. I’m Weighmaster Joshua Smith.”
Doog: “Weighmaster, huh? I bet I have a few pounds on you. Looks like I’m going to have to take your title.”
Smith: “I’m afraid it doesn’t work like that.”
Doog: “I know. I was only kidding. So, what do you do here weighmaster?”
Smith: “Think of Waypoint A as sort of a weigh station on the side of a highway. Ships entering the Naufragus Point must stop here so we determine if the ship has sufficient mass and thruster strength to use the Viarum Hyperspace Route. If it doesn’t, we reroute it to the Alpha Correction.”
Doog: “So, what about a ship like mine? Which route would we take?”
Smith: “You were in that little cargo vessel, weren’t you? Jaculan-Class, if I’m remembering correctly. Hmm, right now, you’d be clear to use the Viarum Route.”
Doog: “Sweet. I didn’t realize my ship had such good thrusters.”
Smith: “Well…it’s more complicated than that. Follow me.”

​Smith: “Thruster strength is just one of the variables we need to determine before granting passage. The other is the condition of hyperspace at even given time. Judging by the field lines on this screen, it looks like hyperspace is stable right now. Even smaller ships like yours can use the Viarum Route at this moment.”
Doog: “Good to know.”
Smith: “Unfortunately, hyperspace conditions can change. They’re highly influenced by gravity. It’s why you can’t fly in hyperspace too close to stars or planets. Gravity rips ships from hyperspace. In order for a route to be viable, it must be a long stretch of space with little to no gravitational interference. The Viarum Route is not always viable in this regard. Occasional gravitational anomalies effect hyperspace in this sector.”
Doog: “I’ve heard about these anomalies. What exactly are we talking about, though?”
Smith: “Good question. Computer, display the Bigna Binary System.”

Doog: “What am I looking at here?”
Smith: “This is the Bigna Binary Star System. It consists of the Type-O, Hypergiant Bigna I and the Type-M Supergiant Bigna II. This star system has enough gravity where it occasionally disrupts the Viarum Hyperspace Route.”
Doog: “Only occasionally? How so?”
Smith: “The stars are spinning around their gravitational barycenter. When this spin, or orbit, aligns perpendicular to the route, the stars’ combined gravitational strength is enough to disrupt hyperspace.”
Doog: “How often does this occur?”
Smith: “About every six months. Although, residual gravity waves still have some effect for weeks after. That’s our job here. We monitor the Bigna System and a few other anomalies and determine when and where they will affect the route.”
Doog: “Hmm. I didn’t realize galactic travel was so complicated.”
Smith: “If you think the effects of the binary system are troubling, don’t even get me started on the variable blackhole, Susurri. That one gives me a headache.”
Doog: “Thanks for the warning. I won’t get you started on it. Let’s move on.”

Smith: “Astrometrics and traffic regulation are just a few of the duties we’re responsible for on Waypoint A. We handle lots of other things.”
Doog: “Judging by the scenery, I’m guessing you handle cargo too.”
Smith: “Yeah, we dabble in cargo, but it’s far from a primary industry. Our other primary duty is salvage.”
Doog: “Salvage?”

Smith: “Millions of ships, of every size and shape imaginable, pass by Waypoint A. We provide each with a plausibility study showing whether they should take the Viarum Route or the Alpha Correction. That ends our involvement. We can only provide the information.”
Doog: “And some people don’t follow your advice. Right?”
Smith: “Precisely. The lure of the shorter route is too much for some captains to resist. The Viarum Route can shave weeks off a trip. Other captains foolishly believe their engine capabilities are higher than we give them credit for.”

Smith: “The unfortunate souls that ignore us have a very small success rate. About 99% of them are ripped from hyperspace during their journey. Being ripped from hyperspace can be a violent event. Most ships are destroyed or disabled.”
Doog: “You salvage these wrecks?”
Smith: “Well, not me personally, but we have salvage crews onboard.”

Smith: “This about concludes my portion of the tour. From here, you’ll be joining one of our salvage crews.”
Doog: “Oh, how fun. I always wanted to fly around and pick up space trash.”

Raibert: “Hold your tongue, Mr. McDoogal. Them fighting words.”
Doog: “Uhh…sorry. I wasn’t talking to you, whoever you are. Wait, how did you know my name?”
Smith: “This is Raibert MacBush, captain of the salvage ship, Finders Keepers. He’ll be showing you the salvage side of Waypoint A.”
Raibert: “It’s not picking up space trash. This is serious work. It pays serious too. The LIU pays us small fees for recovered cargo, but we also get to keep any personal property we find. That’s where the money is.”
Doog: “If these ships are anything like mine, there’s not a lot of personal property worth salvaging.”
Raibert: “Aye. That can be the case on occasion. There’s always a few lemons. But there’s some gold mines floating out there in the Naufragus Point.”
Doog: “I’m intrigued.”
Raibert: “Well, don’t just stand there. We have treasures to discover.”

Doog: “What’s this?”
Raibert: “This is our dormitory. We stay here on standby until a wreck is picked up on the sensors. I have six crew members under my command – a pilot, a mechanic, and four salvagers.”
Doog: “Impressive. I only have five under my command – a pilot, editor, director, navigator, and camera man.”
Raibert: “Aye. So, you know the struggles of being skipper.”
Doog: “Uh…yeah. Totally.”

Raibert: “What are you lazy bums waiting for? We depart Waypoint A in ten minutes! Get to moving!
Carl: “Ten minutes? What’s the rush? That leaves nine more minutes for coffee.”
Raibert: “Sigh. You see what I work with here, Doog.”
Doog: “It’s hard to get good help.”

Raibert: “Ain’t she beautiful?”
Doog: “I think that’s a guy.”
Raibert: “No, you fool. Not him; I’m talking about the ship!”
Doog: “Uh, yeah nice. It just looks like a room.”
Raibert: “Well, uh, yes. I guess it isn’t too exciting from this view. This is Deck 1. It has our connecting airlock and a storage bay. Nothing too exciting. Finders Keepers looks better from the outside though. Hard to show you that.”
Doog: “Well, you’re in luck. I have a space camera following along with us. At least the viewers get to take a look.”

Doog: “Tell me about your ship.”
Raibert: “Finders Keepers is a converted cargo picker. It was originally used to take cargo containers off of large cargo ships that couldn’t land on the surface. Finders Keepers has four decks, but no crew quarters. The ship was never intended to be far from port. Hence, our reliance on the Waypoint A Station.”

Raibert: “The engines have been heavily modified. The original model had no need for FTL engines. In order to cover the vast distances of the Naufragus Point, Finder Keepers now sports two FTL Hyperspace engines. I’m not too sure what else to tell you about.”

​Raibert: “This is Deck 2. It’s our engine room. The fusion generator and life support systems are based in this deck.”
Doog: “What’s all this other junk laying around?”

Raibert: “The engine room has two exterior doors for venting plasma during emergencies. We’ve converted this deck to take advantage of the two doors. This is where we launch our probes. We even use it to let crew members out during space walks.”
Doog: “Got it. You come here to get probed.”
Raibert: “That’s not what I said.”
Doog: “I know. Just summarizing.”

Raibert: “Deck 3 is the largest deck. It is often referred to as the ‘warehouse.”
Doog: “I know space is limited, but you should really look into adding an elevator. These ladders are killing me.”
Raibert: “Try going up and down them a dozen times during a mission. Then come complain to me.”

Raibert: “The warehouse serves multiple purposes. Its large door serves as our biggest airlock and allows access to the gravity deck. Smaller salvaged cargo can be stored in here. The warehouse also houses the mechanic. He keeps the ship and all our equipment operational.”
Doog: “What are these robot-looking things?”
Raibert: “These are heavy Exo-Suits. They’re worn by salvagers to give them greater strength and safety during missions. They’re stored in the warehouse.”

Raibert: “Don’t fret. This is your last ladder of the day. To the final deck we go.”
Doog: “Maybe one of these exo-suits can just lift me up there.”
Raibert: “Where’s the fun in that?”

Raibert: “Deck 4 is the smallest of the bunch, but it’s probably the most important. It’s the cockpit and command center. It’s where I work my magic.”
Carl: “Is bossing everyone around considered magic these days?”
Raibert: “I don’t need any back talk from you. What’s our status?”
Carl: “There’s lots on agenda today. The LIU is reporting several disabled ships within the Naufragus Point. It looks like a gravity wave kicked quite a few ships out of hyperspace.”

Carl: “Here’s our first target. This one’s being listed as first priority by the LIU.”
Raibert: “Life signs?”
Carl: “Sensors indicate that two unfortunate souls are stranded aboard. They’re transmitting a distress call.”
Raibert: “Boost their signal and notify the Space Guard. Then begin cargo extraction.”
Carl: “Copy that.”
Doog: “Wait, you’re not going to help them?”
Raibert: “We don’t have that capability. The only thing we rescue is cargo. All we can do is amplify their distress call and hope the Space Guard is free to rescue them.”
Doog: “That’s brutal.”
Raibert: “It is, but that’s life in the Naufragus Point.”

Carl: “Captain, our spotter is on the gravity deck. Extending crane and beginning cargo salvage.”
Raibert: “Copy that. Make it quick.”

Raibert: “Cargo salvages, like this one here, are our least favorite. There’s not a lot of money to be made. The LIU pays us next to nothing for recovering their cargo.”
Doog: “Why do it then?”
Raibert: “Ha, like you can say no to the LIU. Besides, we have an agreement. In return for salvaging their cargo, they give us salvage rights to all other vessels within the Point. Like I said before, that’s where the money is.”
Carl: “Speaking of money, a jackpot just showed up on the sensors. It must have been hit by the same gravity wave.”
Doog: “A jackpot? What’s that?”
Raibert: “It’s what we call passenger vessels. They’re the most lucrative.”
Carl: “I’m detecting other salvage ships in the area. We need to speed up this cargo rescue.”
Raibert: “There’s not time. We need to do both salvages at once. Launch a probe and get me two guys over there. We need to stake a claim.”
Carl: “You’re the boss. Who’s up for a spacewalk?”

Janna: “This is more like a space marathon. The passenger vessel has to be a full AU from here. I can’t even see it.”
Raibert: “Just follow the probe, you’ll be fine.”
Max: “Can you feed the distance into my HUD? Having a rough idea of where we are going might be helpful.”
Carl: “Trust in the probe. We’re too far to get accurate readings.”

​Vlad: “We’re picking up the probes signal in the Exo-Suits.”
Janna: “Care to enlighten us? I need to know when to start slowing down. I don’t want to go splat on the windshield like a bug.”
Vlad: “You’re fine for now. Keep your current course and speed.”
Raibert: “Anything on the sensors? Life signs?”
Vlad: “No life signs. Looks like there was a hull breach. Life support is offline. All passengers are deceased.”
Raibert: “Very well. It won’t be a pretty sight over there, but you guys know what needs to be done.”
Vlad: “Copy that. We’re approaching the ship now. Begin deacceleration.”

Raibert: “You’re not saying much, Doog. Everything alright?”
Doog: “Huh? What? I was totally paying attention.”
Raibert: “Don’t you find this exciting?”
Doog: “Removing cargo from a ship? I guess that’s exciting.”
Raibert: “No, not what we’re doing here. My crew’s out there flying through space working on a passenger ship salvage.”
Doog: “Is that what’s going on? I heard all the radio chatter and sort of spaced out.”
Raibert: “You’re missing out on some thrilling stuff.”
Doog: “Maybe, but since I can’t see what’s going on, I don’t really care.”
Raibert: “It’s like an audio-book. Just listen to the radio.”
Doog: “I don’t do books or listening very well. I’m sure the space cam is out there covering it all. The viewers will get more out of it than I will.”

​Janna: “Finders Keepers, do you copy?”
Raibert: “Uh, yeah, sorry. I’m here.”
Janna: “Max is hacking the door release now. We’ll be in shortly.”
Raibert: “Sounds good. Keep me updated. We’re grabbing the last cargo container now. We’ll be there in fifteen minutes.”
Max: “No hurry. This thing is heavily encoded. It’s going to take some time to open this door.”
Janna: “The harder it is to get in, the better the score inside.”
Vlad: “I can always smash some space debris through a window. There’s more than one way to skin a cat.”
Raibert: “Let’s not get impatient. We want the ship as intact as possible. We might be able to make repairs and sell it too.”
Rose: “Probe scans are coming back now. The hyperspace exit must have been violent. There’s microfractures everywhere. This ship is headed to the scrap pile.”
Raibert: “That solves that. Vlad, you know what to do.”
Vlad: “It’s smash time!”

Doog: “Well folks, I’m just going to wrap this up. Standing here listening to the radio is boring me to death. This is the Naufragus Point. Gravitational anomalies in this area of space make the Viarum Hyperspace Route impassable at times. The space station, Waypoint A, monitors these anomalies and determines whether they are affecting the route. If hyperspace is affected, ships are rerouted to the Alpha Correction. Not everyone listens though, and many ships are damaged trying to take the shorter route. That’s where salvage teams come in handy. Oh well, time for this guy to get some rest. Those ladders murdered me. See ya!”
 
 
Note: 

Finder Keepers' Specs

There are billions of stars, millions of planets, but there is only one man, Terrance McDoogal. Welcome to LIU Atlas. ​​

LIU Atlas - Minxi Service Station

The Ludgonian Industrial Union's galaxy contains billions of stars and billions of planets. Unfortunately, most residents of the LIU could only name a handful of these worlds. In order to improve astronomy grades across the LIU Galaxy, TV2 has started a new program called LIU Atlas. Follow our host, Terrance McDoogal, as he takes you on a tour across the LIU and some of its more obscure worlds.


Note: This episode is presented in full screen. The corresponding dialogue is underneath each photo.

​Doog: “Welcome to another episode of LIU Atlas. I’m your host, Terrance “Doog” McDoogal. Today, we’re visiting the Minxi Service Station. The station is built into a trojan asteroid located in Lagrangian Point 4 of the gas giant, Mingebam. The station offers several services for galactic farers, including fuel, ship maintenance and repairs, and several stores. This is sort of a ‘two birds with one stone thing’, I’ll be touring the station while the Magellan undergoes some much-needed maintenance.”

​Doog: “Alright folks, I’ve boarded the station. As you can see behind me, the Magellan is clamped into a service station. Maintenance is underway. You can also see that there’s a bunch of ‘fly-looking’ guys walking around. These are the asteroid’s native race, the Mingo. One of these Mingos is my guide. Let’s try to find him.”

Taban: “Welcome to Minxi Service Station. I am Taban. I am the Station Operations Manager.”
Doog: “Uh, hey. Just to be honest right off the bat, I’m not a big fan of insects. Flies don’t bother me too much, so I can tolerate you, to an extent.”
Taban: “Uh, thanks. I’m glad you can tolerate me. If it makes you feel more comfortable, calling my race ‘flies’ would be a misconception. We have no wings. The only thing we fly are spaceships.”
Doog: “True. That helps, I guess. So, what can you tell me about your space station?”

Taban: “This is a full-service station. There’s not much we can’t do when it comes to ship maintenance. The station has several hangars for medium size ships, like yours, and docking ports for larger capital ships. We offer a wide array of services, from purging septic tanks to engine de-ionization.”
Doog: “Yeah, tell me more about your septic services. I’ve heard that you don’t charge for this service, unlike other maintenance stations.”
Taban: “Not only do we not charge for septic services, we actually pay you. Ships this size receive seven credits for offloading waste.”
Doog: “Wait. You’re going to pay us for our poo?”
Taban: “Yes.”
Doog: “What kind of business model is that!”
Taban: “This generous offer attracts more business. The Minxi Station is one of the galaxy’s most frequented maintenance ports. Besides, patrons of the station take the septic credit and use it to pay for other services, like fuel or water reclamation. The offer gets them here and then they end up spending even more money.”
Doog: “Makes sense, now that I think about it.”

​Taban: “So, what services will your ship require?”
Doog: “We’ll take the works. Any service you offer, we’ll take it. TV2 is covering the bill. It’s our once-a-decade maintenance allotment.
Taban: “Very well. We’ll get started right away. We’ll drain your septic tank, purify your waste water, charge your energy cells, de-ionize the engines, empty your trash receptacle, repair micrometeorite damage, degrease your pipes, and clean your cockpit window.”
Doog: “Do you by chance offer any interior maid service?”
Taban: “Not usually, but I’m sure we can reprogram a maintenance bot.”
Doog: “Make it so.”
Taban: “We’ll try. Well, all these services will take some time. Perhaps we can kill time touring the rest of the station?”
Doog: “I’ll follow you.”

Doog: “Whoa. There’s a whole city in here.”
Taban: “Yes. The Minxi Station is home to millions of my race, plus thousands of other travelers.”
Doog: “This looks like some type of market.”
Taban: “You’ll find that the areas of the city, closest to the hangars, are devoted to commercial interests. Patrons can purchase items, like food, while they wait for their ship to be repaired.”
Doog: “Hey, maybe we can strike up a deal for some of these groceries. Just bill them as maintenance costs. TV2 will never find out.”
Taban: “You want me to defraud TV2 while appearing on camera for a TV2 show? I do not believe that would be in my best interest.”
Doog: “Uh, yeah. I was kidding. Totally. We’ll talk off camera though.”

Taban: “In addition to the markets, the station also houses a large restaurant district. Patrons can grab a hot meal while waiting for their ship.”
Doog: “It actually smells pretty good down here. You don’t get that on space stations usually. They either have that antiseptic, sterile smell or that dank, uncirculated air smell.”
Taban: “If you think it smells good, you should have a taste. I have a few restaurant recommendations.”
Doog: “I don’t have any credits. And, someone here, won’t help a brother out.”
Taban: “Are you still asking me to make fraudulent charges to your employer?”
Doog: “Wait. I have an idea! What if I was the person requesting the septic drain? I would get the seven credits. Then, TV2 covers the other charges.”
Taban: “Hmm, I don’t see a problem with that. Two transactions instead of one. You’ve found a loophole that won’t get us killed or imprisoned.”

Taban: “What will it be then? Perhaps a crabshake? Or some crab nuggets?”
Doog: “As tempting as space station crab might be, I think I’ll wait for a bit. I want to get this tour over first. With seven credits, I’m guaranteed to eat enough for a food coma.”
Taban: “Sounds good. Follow me.”

Doog: “Oh good, we’re going in the biohazard room.”
Taban: “It’s not a room. It’s a biohazard airlock. It keeps the smells and gases from the Minxi Station’s industries from leaking into the habitable areas of the station. They’re the reason it smells better here than other stations.”
Doog: “Got it.”

Doog: “Wow, this is a large airlock. I can’t even see the other end.”
Taban: “Yes. It is quite long. Airlocks, like these, spiral down to the lower decks of the station where the industries are located. We’ll need to catch a tram.”

Taban: “Before we head down, it’s recommended that non-Mingo species utilize a breathing filter.”
Doog: “Is it required?”
Taban: “No. It’s just recommended. Some species don’t like the chemical smells of our industry.”
Doog: “I’ve spent the last nine years smelling the Magellan’s bathroom. I think I’ll survive. Besides, I can’t hide this handsome face from my viewers.”
Taban: “Alright.”

Doog: “This is our tram? It looks like the bed of a dump truck.”
Taban: “It is. It’s usually used to send trash and food waste down to the lower floors of the space station.”

Doog: “What kind of industries are down there? Why would they need trash?”
Taban: “The Minxi Station’s primary industry is waste recycling. Trash, dirty water, and sewage removed from the ships above are sent down here for treatment.”
Doog: “I’m rethinking the whole breathing filter thing, now. Can we go back? I didn’t know there was sewage!”
Taban: “Sorry. The trams already moving.”

Doog: “Alright, this isn’t as bad as I thought. There’s just bit of a chlorine smell.”
Taban: “This isn’t the sewage department. This is where we purify water.”
Doog: “Water purification. That’s one of the services we’re getting for the Magellan. What can you tell me about that?”
Taban: “Let’s hop off and take a look.”

Doog: “Why aren’t we talking the tram?”
Taban: “The tram heads to the trash compactor. There’s not much to see down there, just trash getting crushed into cubes. The trash cubes are processed off-station. It’s pretty boring stuff.”
Doog: “Where are we going then?”
Taban: “To one of the sewage vaults.”

Doog: “Ugh…this is…the worst! It’s our bathroom on steroids. I can smell it even when I breathe through my mouth.”
Taban: “I offered the breathing filter.”
Doog: “You should have told me we were heading into a sewage vault! I might have taken you up on your offer.”

Doog: “Ugh! Why are you just pumping it out into a room?”
Taban: “Other stations process the waste into fertilizer, but we do things a bit different. We pump the solid waste into vaults, called Brood Chambers.”
Doog: “Brood? Like a group of babies?”
Taban: “Yes.”
Doog: “Why call it that? What does this cesspool of turds have to do with babies?”

Taban: “Because we rear our young here.”
Doog: “Those white squirmy things are your babies?”
Taban: “They are the larval stage of my species. They are coprophagic, obtaining nutrients by eating feces.”
Doog: “Overwhelming nausea kicking in. Must stop thinking about the fly worms eating poop.”

Taban: “Oh, they’re not that bad. I think they’re cute.”
Doog: “Did you just pick that up!? It was just crawling in the crap pool! You’re getting excrement all over yourself!”
Taban: “I shook it clean first.”
Doog: “No amount of shaking could remove the filth from that thing. And, you’re not supposed to shake babies, jerk.”
Taban: “He’ll be fine. Brood #3 is made up of working class larvae. Some of them might even be from my loin. They’re tough.”
Doog: “Speaking of tough, I’m having a tough time keeping from throwing up. Can we put the poopy worm baby down and move on?”

Taban: “Well, there’s not much else to see. It might be time to hit up one of these restaurants.”
Doog: “You expect me to eat after seeing the brood chamber? And, I definitely don’t want to eat with you. You haven’t even washed your hands.”
Taban: “I’ll wash them at the restaurant.”
Doog: “Will you be washing your clothes there too? I can smell you back here.”
Taban: “My clothes are fine. You’re just smelling the residuals of being in the tank. The chemicals permeate your clothing. The smell will go away in half an hour or so.”
Doog: “Either way, I lost my appetite. That’s hard for me to say, but it’s true. I just want to wrap things up and take a shower in our new fresh water.”
Taban: “Your loss.”

Doog: “Well folks, the Minxi Service Station is certainly an interesting place. The Mingo race offers a variety of maintenance services here, from septic drainage to water reclamation. They even pay you for using their septic services. I was led to believe this generous offer was instituted to attract more customers, but it turns out that the Mingo pay you for your sewage because their babies eat it. Right now, thousands of baby Mingos are crawling through unimaginably smelly cesspools, eating our waste. Gross. Oh well, see ya!”

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