Doog: “Welcome to another episode of LIU Atlas. I’m your host, Terrance “Doog” McDoogal. Today, we’re visiting the former agricultural world of Cado. Cado has suffered a planetwide environmental disaster, rendering its agriculture obsolete. Cado has adapted though, and it still plays a significant role in the galaxy’s economy. We’re here to learn about the environmental disaster and Cado’s new economy. Let’s head down.”

Doog: “Alright. I’ve been dropped off in a large settlement near Cado’s fresh water ocean. The ocean appears to be covered in some type of algae or pond scum. I guess that’s why the ocean looks green from orbit. Atmospheric pressure is normal here, so I don’t need a full environmental suit. A respirator is necessary though. The atmosphere of Cado is toxic. The respirator is sort of fun. It gives my voice a mechanical resonance. Listen. Terrance Junior, I am NOT your father! Cool, huh?”

Doog: “Maybe the atmosphere’s toxicity is caused by this growth. It is bubbling quite a bit. It vaguely reminds me of the Magellan’s shower floor, at least in color and texture.”

Doog: “Ah, finally. Some residents. Uh, hey there. I’m Doog. I’m here to do a show.”
Cadon: “Click. Click. Pop. Click.”
Doog: “Um…are those supposed to be words? I have no idea what you’re saying.”
Cadon: “Pop. Click. Click. Click. Pop. Click. Click. Pop. Click.”
Doog: “Yeah. I got nothing. Unless you’re imitating my first hovercar, then you’re spot on. It sounded just like that when it first started.”
Cadon: “Pop. Click. Pop. Pop. Click!”
Doog: “Ok, clearly you can’t understand me either. This ought to be fun.”

Doog: “Look. I don’t want to frustrate you, seeing that you’re carrying a rifle, but we have some sort of language barrier. Is there maybe someone else to speak with?”
Cadon: “Pop. Click. Click. Pop. Click.”
Doog: “Are you pointing at this little remote-controlled car? Does it speak basic? Hi, car. I’m Doog. How are you?”
Cadon: “CLICK. CLICK!”
Doog: “Ok. That’s obviously not it. Wait. Is that a holo-receiver on the car? How do I activate it?”
Cadon: “Click. Click.”
Doog: “Click. Click.”

Korgar: “WHAT are you idiots DOING! I told you not to activate the holo-receiver without my permission! I’m on the toilet! Turn it OFF!”
Cadon: “Pop. Pop.”
Korgar: “Don’t, POP POP, me. Turn it OFF!”
Doog: “This is awkward.”
Korgar: “IMBECILES! Doog, meet me in the airlock. I’ll be there in a few moments. I have some IDIOTS to deal with first.”
Doog: “Take your time. Wash your hands.”

Korgar: “I, uh, apologize for earlier. I work with a bunch of dimwits. Apparently, the Cadon have no sense of PRIVACY! Anyway, I’m Korgar, Cado’s LIU Liaison.”
Doog: “Yes, we met earlier, outside, during the awkwardness.”
Korgar: “Speaking of which, I imagine that will cut out of the final episode, right?”
Doog: “Uh, yeah sure. Probably.”
Korgar: “Good. I can’t have these witless dolts ruining my reputation.”
Doog: “Sounds like you’re a little harsh on the locals.”
Korgar: “You have to be. They’ve shown countless times that they are inept. Heck, they destroyed their own planet. It if wasn’t for us, they’d be extinct.”

Korgar: “Speaking of ineptitude, why are there so MANY of you guys in the airlock?! I sent two of you to get Doog. Not FOUR! WHY is there so many of us in here?!”
Doog: “Wait. Go back to the ‘destroying their planet’ thing. I’m partially here to learn about that.”
Korgar: “We’ll get to it in a minute. I want to get out of the airlock. It’s too crowded with all the dumb-dumbs in here.”

Korgar: “This is better.”
Doog: “So, how did the Cadon destroy their planet?”
Korgar: “Cado was once a vibrant, agricultural world. It was a peak producer for the Furnace Worlds of Fornacis. But, they overdid it. Too much agriculture ruined the planet.”
Doog: “How so?”
Korgar: “Fertilizers and nitrogen supplements, used to increase crop growth, ran-off into streams and rivers, which eventually took them into the planet’s ocean. The increased nutrition created huge algal blooms. These blooms got larger and larger until they consumed the entire ocean. At first, the blooms were seasonal, but soon, they soon became a permanent fixture in Cado’s ocean.”
Doog: “That explains the algal sea, but how did that ruin the planet?”

Korgar: “The ocean was the first step in the ecological disaster. The algae used up all the oxygen in the ocean, killing off all native life in the sea. The algae also decreased ocean evaporation, causing the rains to be severely reduced. The algae also released immense amounts of greenhouse gases into the atmosphere, raising temperatures planetwide. This also reduced rain and increased drought.”
Doog: “So, the algae ruined everything.”
Korgar: “Yes. But, one of their characteristics was particularly devastating. These algae contain komoic acid, a toxin. When algae dies, komoic acid degenerates into a poisonous gas and is released into the atmosphere. It was the final blow. Everything on the planet went extinct, except for the Cadon and the algae. The Cadon, of course, were only saved by our grace.”

Doog: “How did you save them?”
Korgar: “For starters, we gave them environmental suits so they could continue breathing.”
Doog: “That’s sort of a big deal.”
Korgar: “Yes. Then we reorganized their economy, so they could continue to be productive in the galactic economy.”
Doog: “Also, rather important. So, what’s the new economy?”
Korgar: “Power generation, specifically, bio-energy.”
Doog: “Bio-energy?”
Korgar: “Yes. The conversion of algal biomass into energy. The Cadon ship out industrial sized power cells full of energy created by the algae.”
Doog: “How does one create energy from algae?”

Korgar: “The first step is collection. Shoreline facilities dredge up tons of algae every day.”
Doog: “Gag, gag.”
Korgar: “Ha. Gross looking, isn’t it. It’s making you gag. I bet you’re imagining how putrid it must smell.”
Doog: “Actually, I was thinking about the bathroom scene earlier. I’ll never get that out of my mind.”
Korgar: “Uh…must change subject…”

Korgar: “…uh…these cranes bring up biomass. Did I mention that?”
Doog: “You did.”
Korgar: “Ok. What’s next? Oh, yes. The algae is then loaded onto trains and shipped to the bioreactors.”

Korgar: “The bioreactors use the algae as fuel. Algae gets pumped into anaerobic agitation tanks where it decomposes. This process releases gases like methane. The methane is used in combustion engines. The engines turn turbines, which generate power.”
Doog: “Seems simple enough. Although, it’s probably not helping environmental issues.”
Korgar: “There’s some drawbacks. Greenhouse gases are produced and, of course, komoic toxins are aerosolized and pumped into the atmosphere.”
Doog: “Making the atmosphere more toxic.”
Korgar: “Yes. But, drawbacks aside, it keeps the Cadon relevant and productive. Cado is one of the galaxy’s largest producers of energy. Cheap energy at that.”

Doog: “Is it viable though? What happens when the air becomes too toxic and hot for the algae?”
Korgar: “It is sustainable for probably another century, given more nitrogen fertilizers are introduced to keep the algae blooming.”
Doog: “What happens after that?”
Korgar: “I don’t believe anyone has considered circumstances that far into the future. I guess the idiotic Cadon must find something else to survive. It won’t be our problem.”
Doog: “How compassionate of you…”

Doog: “And, we’re back here again.”
Korgar: “Yes. We’ve come full circle. Here, generated power is stored in energy cells so it can be transported to other worlds.”
Doog: “Got it. Anything else to add?”
Korgar: “There is a fringe economy. It might help the Cadon survive into the next century. At least, a few of them. Follow me.”

Doog: “More algae collection?”
Korgar: “Yes, but in lower quantities and for different reasons.”
Doog: “Why else would anyone want algae?”
Korgar: “For the komoic toxin.”
Doog: “They want toxins? What, to assassinate people?”
Korgar: “No. Nothing like that. Minute amounts of the toxin can be used medically.”

Doog: “A toxin can be used in medicine?”
Korgar: “Sure. Many toxins and poisons have medical uses in the right quantity. For example, aspirin. It’s made from the poison salicin.”
Doog: What’s made from Komoic?”
Korgar: “Euthanasia drugs, mostly.”
Doog: “What! That’s not a medicine!”
Korgar: “Sure it is. Some things can not be cured. Painless death can end suffering. Concentrated Komoic toxin is known to be quick acting and painless.”
Doog: “I would hardly say that qualifies as medicine, but whatever. There can’t be a big market for death drugs.”
Korgar: “Not a huge market, but a market. Like I said, the abundance of the toxin here will keep this portion of the economy going longer than the energy sector.”
Doog: “Got it. Well, let’s move away from the death drugs. I don’t trust myself standing so close to them. I’m a trip and fall away from accidentally euthanizing myself.”

Doog: “Well folks, that’s Cado. This once promising agricultural world was destroyed by greed. High production numbers over many years started causing algal blooms that killed most of the life on the planet. Luckily, alternative economies developed around the deadly algae. Now, the locals generate energy and make pharmaceuticals. Speaking of pharmaceuticals, I hope Korgar doesn’t euthanize himself when I air the toilet footage. That’s definitely not getting cut out. See ya!
 
 
Note: The Fornacins tend to blame the fall of the planet on the natives, often insulting their intelligence. However, many experts agree that the disaster was, in fact, caused by the Fornacins themselves. Their drive to increase productions numbers forced the Cadon to destroy their home world. 

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

Doog: “Welcome to another episode of LIU Atlas. I’m your host, Terrance “Doog” McDoogal. Today, we’re visiting the tiny planetoid, Lenimen II. This irregular body is too small to be perfectly round, hence its weird shape. Despite its shape and lack of atmosphere, Lenimen II is inhabited. Let’s head down and find out why anyone would want to live here.”

Doog: “Alright, I’ve arrived at our destination, a facility on the planetoid’s surface. It looks to be located mostly underground. Only the entryway of the facility is visible. Clearly, this facility is related to the medical field, given its markings. There’s just one problem, though. How do I get up to the door?”

Doog: “Actually, it’s not a problem at all. Lenimen II has very little gravity. On this world, I got mad ups. Whoa, whoa. I might have jumped a little too high. I need some downs too.” 

Doog: “Third times a charm. I might have landed on the roof a time or two, but I eventually made it. Let’s head inside.”

Doog: “Hey, I’m here to sign up for your basketball team. I don’t know if you saw that exhibition I put on outside, but my jumping game is on point.”
Security #1: “Sir, this is a highly secure medical facility. We don’t have time for whatever craziness you’re talking about.”
Doog: “I’m just referring to the weak gravity and how high I could jump outside.”
Security #1: “Well, sir, there’s artificial gravity inside here. Please don’t attempt any stunts like that while inside.”
Doog: “Aw man. My hoops career ended already. So, security, huh? What are we securing?”
Security #1: “I can’t discuss such matters. I’m just here to keep this place secure. Speaking of which, what are you doing here?”
Doog: “I’m Terrance McDoogal, aka Doog.”
Security #1: “Oh, you’re the TV host.”
Doog: “Didn’t recognize me with the helmet on, huh?”
Security #1: “No, I didn’t recognize you because I’ve never seen your show. I’ve never even heard of it. Now, step into the bio-scanner.”

Doog: “Bio-scanner?”
Security #2: “This is a clean facility. We don’t allow certain contaminates inside.”
Doog: “Yikes. Would Collum Gonorrhea disqualify someone from entering? I’m asking for a friend.”
Security #2: “Sure you are. Fortunately, I don’t see any anything worthy of barring your entry. You’re free to proceed.”
Doog: “That was easy. I thought for sure I’d trigger something.”
Security #2: “The entry scan is pretty simple. There’s only a few viral infections that would prohibit entry. It’s the exit scan that you need to worry about.”
Doog: “Why’s that?”
Security #2: “If you catch Strain VII while inside, you don’t ever leave. In fact, we shoot you dead where you stand.”
Doog: “What is Strain VII?”
Security #2: “I’ve already said too much. Please exit the scanner and head to reception. Someone will meet you there.”
Doog: “Uh…ok. That’s not foreboding at all.”

Receptionist: “Oh, hello. You must be Doog. Welcome.”
Doog: “Finally, someone that recognizes me. You’re a fan of LIU Atlas?”
Receptionist: “I have no idea what that is. I only knew you because security called to let us know you were coming. Also, they said that under no circumstances should we make physical contact with you. Something about your scan.”
Doog: “So much for medical confidentiality.”
Receptionist: “Anyway, Dr. Hildegard will be here shortly. Just have a seat…er…just stand right there and don’t touch stuff.”

Hildegard: “You’re the TV Host here for the tour, right?”
Doog: “Yes. I’m Doog.”
Hildegard: “Hi, I’m Dr. Hildegard. Oh, no. I don’t shake hands.”
Doog: “Because of my scan?”
Hildegard: “No. In my field, shaking hands isn’t a great idea. That’s how viruses get passed around.”
Doog: “You deal with viruses?”
Hildegard: “Yes. Follow me to the visitor’s center. It’s easier to explain there.”
Doog: “Sounds good. Do I get one of those face masks things? I don’t want any viruses.”
Hildegard: “It’s not necessary. We’ll only be in clean areas of the facility. There’s no exposure risk.”
Doog: “Why are you wearing one then?”
Hildegard: “Your scan.”
Doog: “Sigh. Did they tell everybody?”

Hildegard: “This facility only deals with one specific virus, Silent Malady.”
Doog: “Silent Malady? That’s a weird name for a virus. Sounds like a quiet love song.”
Hildegard: “I think you’re mixing up melody and malady. Silent Malady is aptly named. It’s an RNA virus that targets the language center of the brain. It renders the infected mute and unable to communicate.”
Doog: “I guess that might be bad for some people. Others…should probably be purposely infected.”
Hildegard: “That wouldn’t be wise. Loss of speech is just an initial symptom. Coma and death follow soon after.”
Doog: “I may have spoken too soon.”
Hildegard: “The virus is highly communicable, being able to infect most of the galaxy’s sentient beings. We think it can move cross-species because the language centers of all our brains evolved so similarly.”
Doog: “Deadly and highly infectious. No one is safe. That’s scary.”
Hildegard: “It was. Until a vaccine was discovered.”
Doog: “Wait. There’s a vaccine?”
Hildegard: “Yes. It’s one of the hundred or so vaccines you receive as a child.”
Doog: “Then why have a facility? Is it like a museum? Are you weaponizing it?”
Hildegard: “Because of Strain VII.”

Doog: “Strain VII? The security guys were talking about that. What is it?”
Hildegard: “Thirty years ago, this strain mutated on the planet Nulla, a shipping world. Unlike its predecessor strains, Strain VII was not stopped by the vaccine. It spread quickly. Millions were infected in just a few weeks. By the time doctors figured out what was happening, cargo haulers had already spread Strain VII to six other worlds.”
Doog: “That can’t be good.”
Hildegard: “It wasn’t. The spread of the disease was only stopped by a level 3 galactic quarantine. Sadly though, nothing could be done for the infected. There is no cure. Four of the six worlds lost their entire populations. The Periit Race went extinct. Over six billion died.”
Doog: “Wow. That’s sad.”
Hildegard: “Yes. Many lives lost in silence. The event is sometimes called, ‘The Quieting’.” 

Doog: “Has a cure ever been discovered?”
Hildegard: “Sort of. We’ve developed a new vaccine. Unfortunately, it’s hard to make and it’s in limited supply. We only have enough to vaccinate millions. Trillions of lives are still at stake.”
Doog: “What makes it so hard to make? Is it expensive?”
Hildegard: “We haven’t been able to artificially synthesize a vaccine. We can only harvest the antibodies of the galaxy’s only known immune species, the Leni.”
Doog: “There’s an immune species?”
Hildegard: “Yes. The Leni hail from Lenimen IV, the fourth planet in this system. Lenimen IV was one of the six infected planets. They suffered millions of deaths themselves, but a small fraction of the population was found to be immune. We are able to extract their antibodies and convert them into a vaccine.”
Doog: “That’s why this facility is here. It’s close to the source.”
Hildegard: “Indeed.”

Doog: “The Leni look a little worse for wear. Why are they all in wheelchairs?”
Hildegard: “The antibody collection process can be taxing. It takes a lot out of them.”
Doog: “Geez. It looks like it. I hope they get compensated well.”
Hildegard: “Uh…depends what you mean by compensation...”
Doog: “Like a paycheck. You buy their antibodies from them, right?”
Hildegard: “It would be pointless. The Leni don’t have any need for money. They never leave here.”
Doog: “They’re prisoners?”
Hildegard: “I wouldn’t go so far as to call them prisoners. They retain some rights. They’re just too valuable to let go. They must be harvested as often as possible. Besides, we can’t risk losing any of them. There’s only ten-thousand of them left.”
Doog: “So, they’re just expected to stay here forever donating antibodies?”
Hildegard: “Well, until a synthetic vaccine becomes available.”
Doog: “That’s not right.”
Hildegard: “The needs of the many outweigh the needs of the few. The Leni could be the key to saving the galaxy one day. If Strain VII ever reemerges or another deadly strain develops, we’ll need every drop of antibodies we can get.”

Doog: “I get the importance of the antibodies, but it seems wrong to keep them here. I’m sure they’d voluntarily give blood if they got paid.”
Hildegard: “Don’t be so sure. As I said before, the collection process is arduous. If we left it up to them, I don’t think any would volunteer.”
Doog: “How bad is it? I’m sure there’s some weakness and exhaustion after a session of giving blood, but it can’t be too bad. I gave blood once and had no problems. Coincidentally, that was my last time giving blood…well, you saw my scan.”
Hildegard: “That’s the problem. The antibody isn’t in their blood. It’s in their cerebrospinal fluid.”
Doog: “Brain fluid. That might be different.”
Hildegard: “A lot different. Each session, we collect roughly 125mL of CSF. The patient can be harvested safely three times per day. We harvest them six straight days and then give them one day of rest. Weekly, each patient generates us around 2.25 Liters of CSF. That’s slightly more than half a gallon, enough to make twenty vaccines.”

Hildegard: “Of course, collecting CSF can be painful. The removal of fluid causes the brain to touch the skull. Severe headaches, blackouts, and loss of motor function are common, as is severe pain. The needle through the skull doesn’t feel great either.”
Doog: “You’re downplaying the pain. He’s screaming in agony. This is hard to watch. Even the restraining harnesses look bad.”
Hildegard: “Maybe, but they’re necessary. You don’t want their heads thrashing around when there’s a needle in their brain.”
Doog: “Well, yeah. But maybe the needle shouldn’t be in there in the first place. I don’t want to watch this anymore. That scream is going to give me nightmares for weeks.”

Hildegard: “Our current vaccine uses the deactivated Silent Malady virus. The deactivated virus is injected into healthy beings, and their immune system creates its own antibodies and B-memory cells. This prevents them from being infected again. But, the only way we can deactivate the virus is to use Leni antibodies.”
Doog: “Can’t you make antibodies in the lab?”
Hildegard: “It’s being researched, but we can’t devote too many resources towards research. We need more vaccines.”
Doog: “Of course not. Why would the LIU divert any resources to save lives?”
Hildegard: “Actually, the LIU has been quite forthcoming with funding. ‘The Quieting’ refers to more than the lives lost. The galactic economy went silent for weeks during the quarantine. Not to mention the resources and labor lost on the infected planets. The LIU doesn’t want to deal with an outbreak of Silent Malady ever again.”

Doog: “Oh. I didn't think about it like that. What did you mean by research resources then?”
Hildegard: “To synthesize an artificial antibody, we would have to use Leni antibodies. Thousands and thousands of gallons of CSF would be diverted to research instead of vaccines with no guarantee of success. We had to find a middle ground. Slow research while making maximum vaccines was the way we decided to go. It wasn’t a decision made lightly. In fact, it was recommended by an AI.”
Doog: “An AI?”
Hildegard: “Yes. I told you the LIU was funding this heavily.”

Hildegard: “Meet our multipurpose AI, Lidless Eye.”
Lidless Eye: “Good evening, Dr. Hildegard.”
Hildegard: “How’s it going, Lidless Eye?”
Lidless Eye: “I am functioning at 100%. The search continues.”
Hildegard: “Glad to hear that. This is Doog, by the way. He’s here to do a show about our work curing Silent Malady.”
Lidless Eye: “Hello, Doog.”
Doog: “Hey.”
Lidless Eye: “Dr. Hildegard, I’m not sure if you are aware…perhaps we can speak alone?”
Hildegard: “Is it about the scan?”
Lidless Eye: “Yes. That and the past medical history.”
Hildegard: “I’m aware.”
Doog: “Even the AI knows?!”

Hildegard: “Lidless Eye has access to the entire galaxy’s medical history.”
Lidless Eye: “I keep it all confidential, unless it conflicts with galactic safety or the safety of my co-workers.”
Doog: “That’s creepy. Why do you need access to that?”
Hildegard: “Lidless Eye has many purposes. It’s primary purpose, though, is to search for any signs of another outbreak. It took too long to discover the last one, allowing it to spread off world.”
Lidless Eye: “I’m always searching.”
Doog: “I guess that’s good.”
Hildegard: “Any spare processing power goes towards research.”
Lidless Eye: “I’m mapping the RNA structure of all seven strains of Silent Malady, including all of the mutation variants. I’m also computing synthetic antibody structures for a new vaccine.”
Doog: “Interesting. Are there any other diseases you can cure that someone might or might not have currently? Asking for a friend.”
Hildegard: “Sigh. I’ll write you a prescription when we get through. Let’s not waste the AI’s time on trivial matters.”
Doog: “That’ll work.”

Hildegard: “Over the past thirty years, we’ve stockpiled the vaccine in strategic locations around the galaxy, including this facility.”
Doog: “What? Why aren’t you vaccinating people?”
Hildegard: “We are only able to manufacture about ten million vaccines a year. It’s not enough for everyone. It’s smarter to stock it up it until an outbreak takes place. With Lidless Eye watching, we should be able to identify a threat quickly and vaccinate the local population.”
Doog: “Only ten million a year? That’s not a lot. I don’t math often, but over thirty years…that’s still not a lot.”
Hildegard: “Exactly. Which is why we don’t risk much on finding alternatives to the Leni antibody. We’re in really short supply.”
Doog: “Worlds like Ludgonia, Erogatio, and Mercor have populations around one trillion. If it hits them…”
Hildegard: “We’re in trouble. Quarantine and fire bombing infected areas will be our only hope.”
Doog: “I might want to reconsider how lax I am about these diseases I pick up. I never thought about how serious some diseases might be.”
Hildegard: “I concur.”

Doog: “Well folks, this episode was a real eye opener. In our interconnected galaxy, diseases can spread rabidly, including deadly ones, like Silent Malady. We like to think we’re all safe or invincible, but these microscopic organisms can wreak devastation upon us, if we’re not careful. Luckily, there’s places like Lenimen II working hard, trying to keep us safe. I’m going to grab a prescription for the doc, get this mess cleared up, and change my ways. Maybe. At least until I forget about this place. Probably a week. See ya!”
 
 
Note:
 
The Deadliest Outbreaks in LIU History
 
-Silent Malady (Strain VII) AKA ‘The Quieting’: ~6 billion deaths
-Ferventis Sanguinis Virus (Tressis Strain) AKA ‘Boiling Blood Disease’: ~300 million deaths
-Kaadu Spongiform Encephalopathy (Strain IX) AKA ‘Mad Kaadu Flu’: ~300 million deaths
-Joon Fever AKA ‘Emperor’s Wrath’: ~214 million deaths
-Prion 52145 (Lab Engineered) AKA ‘Oops, It Got Out’: ~57 million deaths

Doog: “Welcome to a special edition episode of LIU Atlas. I’m your host, Terrance “Doog” McDoogal. Today, we’re going to check out the moon, Collum. Like our previous special edition episodes, we’re going to be checking out Collum’s culture, instead of its economy.”

Doog: “Alright, I’ve been dropped off in the moon’s largest city, Vratu. Vratu is a massive city with a population in excess of fifty million people. The city is also large in size, covering nearly a tenth of the moon’s surface.”

Doog: “We’re in the heart of Vratu’s market district. It’s one of the largest open-air markets outside of the planet Mercor. There’s stuff for sale everywhere.”

Doog: “Things are even busy above me. There’s a rail system passing through this section of the city. It looks to be carrying cargo, not passengers. That makes sense. Collum is a commerce world. It sits at the convergence of several outlying hyperspace routes. Tons of Outer-Rim cargo comes here to be shipped to the rest of the galaxy. This convergence of hyperspace routes is called ‘the Neck’.”

Doog: “Enough about that, though. We’re here to talk culture, not economy. Collum is known for its shopping and restaurants, but we’re not here for that either. We’re here for something special, a spectacle only found on Collum. We just have to find our way there. Ah, I see a sign for Market Street. That’s a good start.”

Doog: “Ooh, look. You can rent lofts for forty credits. If that’s per decade, I might be able to afford that.”

Doog: “I can’t read Presciant, so I’m not positive I’m going the right way. But, if the smell is any indication, I think we need to head down here.”

Doog: “Yep. This is it. This is Collum’s under-market. Now, you might think an under-market sells some shady stuff, but don’t let the name fool you. It just means that’s it’s an underground market. Trust me, I was disappointed too.”

Doog: “The under-market specializes in selling animals. That’s why it’s down here. It helps keep the smell down.”

Doog: “You can buy almost any animal imaginable down here. I’m not sure why, though. I guess for food or something. Maybe some are exotic pets or work animals. Who knows? That’s not why we’re here, so I’m not too worried about it. Oh, dear Emperor! This heathen is selling spiders! Time to go!”

Doog: “LIU Arena. This is it. Let’s head inside.”

Doog: “Collum’s large animal market has its fair share of problems. Animals get loose. Some of these animals are dangerous. To protect the public, the under-market hired special enforcers to kill escaped creatures. Through the years, certain enforcers grew quite the reputation. People actually came to the under-market just to see these guys and girls in action. It eventually became so popular, that the LIU built an arena, where these enforcers could showcase their skills. These enforcers became matadors.”

Doog: “The matadors’ methods have changed over the years. They can only use melee weapons now. Projectiles were deemed too dangerous for the spectators. For extra showmanship, the matadors wear elaborate costumes and use props, like flags. They fight a variety of dangerous creatures, some that are truly terrifying. I’ve heard that the animal fights on Collum are a sight to behold. I guess we’ll see. I’m going to turn the show over to the fight announcers for now. See you in a bit.” 

Announcer: “Ladies, gentlemen, and asexual beings, welcome to LIU Arena, home to the galaxy-famous Matador Showcase. May I present today’s enforcer, MATADOR THANEEEE!”
Crowd: Cheer!
Announcer #2: “Matador Thane is an impressive 14-0 after last weeks slaughter of a Vermis Worm.”
Crowd: Cheer!

Announcer: “It won’t be that easy this week. Matador Thane will be facing a Horned Yeti.”
Crowd: Gasp!
Announcer #2: “This bulky beast has sharp teeth, claws, and horns.”
Announcer: “Thane will want to keep his distance, that’s for sure. Speed will be his ally.”

Announcer #2: “Speaking of speed, Thane is wasting no time. He’s charging straight in there for the kill.”
Announcer: “I hope he takes that Yeti’s reach into consideration.”

Announcer #2: “I’m thinking he didn’t.”
Announcer: “Indeed. The Yeti has grabbed ahold of Thane. Ew…that’s not pretty.”
Announcer #2: “Thane is being continuously slammed against the ground. His ragdoll of a body has dropped his spear. I think this fight is over.”
Announcer: “Matador Thane ends his career…and possibly his life… with a record of 14-1.”
Crowd: Silent…silent…silent…silent…CHEERS

Doog: “Well folks, that fight didn’t end exactly how I envisioned it. But, judging by the crowd’s reaction, these people were still entertained. Who isn’t entertained by gratuitous violence? Thane, probably. But, other than that. Well, it wasn’t pretty, but we got to learn a bit about galactic culture. See ya!”


​Note:
 
Announcer: “Matadors Leia and Timmy fight an Ogalu this Sunday. There’s sure to be bloodshed regardless of the outcome. Come back and see us then!”

Doog: “Welcome to another episode of LIU Atlas. I’m your host, Terrance “Doog” McDoogal. Today, we’re visiting the volcanic world of Okolnir. Okolnir is a Mid-Rim world close to the planet Fornacis. Okolnir played a minor role in the creation of the LIU. We’re here to discover what that role was. Let’s head down to the surface.”

Doog: “Alright folks, I’ve been dropped off in front of some type of castle. It appears to be built into the cliffside of a volcano. There’s a massive lavafall right next to the castle entrance which is putting off a ton of heat. It smells strongly of sulfur too. I guess I’ll ignore common sense and get closer to the spewing lava.”

Doog: “There looks to be lots of armed guards out here. Armed, as in they have lots of weapons, and armed, as in they have four arms. These guys are pretty intimidating.”

Doog: “There’s even snipers on top of the tower. What’s up with this place? Is this some type of prison?”

Doog: “Uh, hey. How are…oh, ok. Shotgun pointed at my face. Nice.”
Guard: “State your business.”
Doog: “I’m Doog. I’m here for the tour.”
Guard: “We don’t give tours, little man. Leave now, and I might let you live.”
Doog: “At the risk of being shot point blank with a shotgun, I humbly request you check with your boss. I’m here to do a TV show.”
Guard: “Oh, you’re the TV guy. Why didn’t you say so? Head on in. Brimir is waiting for you.”

Brimir: “Tidings, Mr. Doog. I’m Brimir, High Prelate of Okolnir.”
Doog: “Hey. Just call me Doog. I’d shake your hand, but the etiquette of shaking hands with four-armed beings escapes me.”
Brimir: “In my culture, handshakes with the lower hands are not allowed. The lower arms are for private things. They’re seen as unclean.”
Doog: “So, don’t shake your butt wiping hands, got it. Unfortunately for you, I don’t have extra hands for my dirty business, so you’re just going to have to bear with me.”
Brimir: “Perhaps…we can skip the handshake.”
Doog: “Not a bad idea.”

Doog: “So, you’re a High Predator? What does that mean?”
Brimir: “High Prelate, actually. It means that I sit on the planet’s council.”
Doog: “Ooh, fancy. I’m getting a tour from a politician.”
Brimir: “Not a political council, a business council. Think of it as being a member on a company’s board.”
Doog: “That’s a bit of a letdown, to be honest. I felt important for a second.”
Brimir: “You should still feel important. I sit on the board of one of the galaxy’s most powerful banks.”
Doog: “Banking? That’s what you do here? With all the lava and stuff, I figured this was an industrial world or prison world.”

Brimir: “It wasn’t always this way. We actually started off in the mining industry.  Okolnir has abundant mineral resources.”
Doog: “How did you jump from mining to banking? Did you find lots of gold?”
Brimir: “No. It’s much more complex than that. Prior to the formation of the LIU, the galaxy was war torn. The galaxy’s largest entities were at war, fighting endlessly for control of the galaxy. Some of these entities, like the Furnace Worlds of Fornacis, came to Okolnir requesting mineral resources to continue their fight. They desperately needed metals for warships, mecha, and other war machines. We sold tons of metal to them, at war-time rates. We made billions of credits.”
Doog: “Couldn’t they have just taken it from you?”
Brimir: “They could have tried. The terrain and lava would have made it difficult. The mines are deep; extracting the minerals on their own would have taken too much time and labor. It was easier to be friends, instead of enemies.”

Doog: “So, you made all your money selling minerals to the Furnace Worlds of Fornacis?”
Brimir: “Mostly. Towards the end of the war, the Fornacins couldn’t no longer afford to pay for minerals. We offered minerals on credit and placed them further into our debt. It was a great plan, until the tides of war turned. The Ludgonian Empire and Galactic Bureaucracy were merging. The Fornacins wouldn’t stand a chance against their combined might. We leaned on the Fornacins until they too agreed to merge with the Ludgonian Empire and Galactic Bureaucracy. We knew that was the only way we’d ever get repaid.”
Doog: “Interesting. That’s your contribution to the creation of the LIU. You forced the Fornacins’ hand.”
Brimir: “The war would have ended either way. We just helped end it in a way that our profits were preserved.”
Doog: “Seems smart.”
Brimir: “Okolnir voluntarily entered the LIU after the merger of the three powers. In order to preserve some autonomy and wealth, my people agreed to finance the Mid-Rim Unification War with low interest loans. By the end of the war, Okolnir had become one of the galaxy’s richest worlds.”

​Brimir: “Of course, the end of the war and the unification of the galaxy meant the Okolnir would have to make some changes. There would be no more wars to fund, at least in this galaxy. We needed to expand our war-banking interests to extragalactic levels.”
Doog: “You fund wars in other galaxies?”
Brimir: “Yes. War is profitable. Desperation and fear allow us to charge inordinate interest rates.”
Doog: “Seems risky. Like you said, if the side you fund loses, you don’t get repaid.”
Brimir: “It can be, but much of the risk is mitigated by the LIU’s powerful military. They can be quite convincing when trying to recoup unpaid debt. If our side loses, we shift the debt to the winning side. Most of the time, it’s a win-win situation.”

Doog: “Most of the time? So, it doesn’t always work out?”
Brimir: “Well, sometimes it costs more to recoup a debt then the actual cost of the debt. We must occasionally take our losses. As you can see, though, profits are always trending up.”
Doog: “Millions suffer wartime atrocities across the universe…but at least profits are up.”
Brimir: “You make it sound so cynical. Don’t pretend that these wars wouldn’t carry on without our money. As long as there is life, war will exist.”
Doog: “Someone’s a pessimist.”

Brimir: “We’re currently funding sixteen conflicts within the Local Galaxy Group, as well as two larger extragalactic conflicts. We have several trillion dollars of assets on the line.”
Doog: “How do you choose who you support?”
Brimir: “We usually back the more financially sound entity, but we’ve taken some chances, especially when the LIU requests it.”
Doog: “Why would the LIU want you to take chances?”
Brimir: “When a conflict might be in the best interest of the LIU. A ‘the enemy of my enemy is my friend’ type deal. If they’re stuck fighting a war with someone else…”
Doog: “Then they’re not competing against the LIU.”
Brimir: “Exactly.”

Brimir: “There are many challenges to lending extragalactically. Language barriers, currency conversions, and quick communications are a few. Our highly trained staff makes it work though.”
Doog: “Another challenge has to be the smell. Holy Kaadu, that’s disgusting!”
Brimir: “Please don’t insult my customers. I doubt it can understand you, but you never know.”

Brimir: “Our loans, and the conflicts they fund, are closely monitored. Rates can be adjusted depending on many circumstances. If insolvency or defeat is predicted, we can cut off any loan to limit losses.”
Doog: “Got it. So, do you war-profiteers do any other kind of banking? Or is it strictly war financing?”
Brimir: “Actually, we do offer another banking service.”
Doog: “What, do you finance puppy mills and slave auctions too?”
Brimir: “No. Nothing like that. Follow me.”

Doog: “Where are we going?”
Brimir: “The depleted mines of Okolnir have been converted into another banking service.”
Doog: “Are those vaults?”
Brimir: “They are. We have several hundred secured storage vaults for paying customers.”
Doog: “That explains all the security outside.”
Brimir: “Yes. The vaults are very safe. Not only are they protected by security, they are fully insured by our banking trust.”

Doog: “Looks like they’re also protected by these huge guard bats.”
Brimir: “Birds actually. And they’re not part of security protocol. They naturally inhabit the planet’s lava tubes. They’ve taken to living in the mines as well. They’re not too much of a nuisance. They keep the rodent population in check.”
Doog: “I think guard bats sounds cooler. You should have just stuck with that.”

Doog: “Anything cool stored here?”
Brimir: “I’m not sure. The contents of the vaults do not have to be disclosed. I have no idea what’s in any of them.”
Doog: “Maybe we could ask this guy to see his vault.”
Brimir: “No! Many of our guests value their confidentiality.”
Doog: “Hey! Old, rich guy! Can we see your vault?”
Guy: “Sure. There’s not much to see, but you’re welcome to come in.”
Brimir: “I said NOT to ask!”
Doog: “Oh, did you. Oh well, I’ll try to remember the next time I come here…which will probably be never.”

Guy: “There’s not much here. I keep some rainy-day cash and a few valuable possessions.”
Doog: “Rainy-day? There’s got to be a million credits here!”
Guy: “Yeah, maybe. I throw a bit more in every time I pass this part of the galaxy.”
Doog: “What kind of rainy-day are you expecting?”
Guy: “Oh, you know, the type of rainy-day where your wife finds out you’ve been hooking up with the maid and demands half your money.”
Doog: “What about the other stuff?”
Guy: “Oh, just some things I like that I don’t want the maid to smash, when she inevitably finds out that I’m married.”
Doog: “Looks like you got it all figured out.”

Doog: “Well folks, Okolnir’s a pretty interesting place. This volcanic world is home to a bank that specializes in extragalactic wartime lending. It’s one of the largest banking institutions in the LIU. Speaking of the LIU, the bank played a small role in its formation. Using financial leverage, the bank convinced the Furnace Worlds of Fornacis to merge with the Ludgonian Empire and Galactic Bureaucracy. They even financed the Mid-Rim Unification War, which saw the LIU conquer the entire galaxy. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I'm going to grovel before this unfaithful gentleman and see if I can get a gold coin. See ya!”
Brimir: “No you’re not! There’s no begging here! Get him out!”


​ 
Note: Okolnir Banking Vaults start at 10,000 credits per month. See a representative to get yours today!

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.