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


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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Finder Keepers' Specs

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

LIU Atlas - Minxi Service Station

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


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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

CLICK HERE FOR NEXT EPISODE - Season 9 - Episode 14 - The Naufragus Point

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

Doog: “Alright, I’ve been dropped off outside a facility on the planet’s surface. It’s cold. Real cold. It stings when I breathe, and I can already feel the blood leaving my extremities. All my extremities.”

Doog: “I’m told this facility is some type of science station. Honestly, I don’t care what it is; I just want to go inside. Let’s go.”

Doog: “Oh, thank the Emperor. It’s much better in here.”
Amundsen: “Indeed. Welcome to Station #2. I’m Dr. Amundsen. I’ll be your guide for today’s tour.”
Doog: “Station #2? Am I not good enough for Station #1?”
Amundsen: “Station #1 is a weather-monitoring post, three hundred miles north of here. There’s not too much to see there, unless you’re into weather patterns.”
Doog: “No, I’m good. I don’t need a fancy science post to tell me that it’s cold.”
Amundsen: “Very cold. But, despite the frigidness, Volucris is home to an abundance of life. How this life evolved to survive these conditions, is part of our research here in Station #2.”
Doog: “What kind of unfortunate life evolved here?”
Amundsen: “Advanced life. Some of it sentient. Follow me.”

Doog: “This is the life? Remarkable. They look human.”
Amundsen: “They are human. They’re my researchers, not the native life. They’re isolating antifreeze proteins called ISP’s, short for Ice Structuring Proteins. ISP’s are found in most species native to Volucris. They are the reason life was able to evolve here.”
Doog: “How do they work?”
Amundsen: “The proteins inhibit the crystallization of bodily fluids, allowing them to remain liquid despite the temperatures. Crystallization of fluids prohibits their flow and causes tissue damage.”
Doog: “So, no frostbite for the native life. Got it.”
Amundsen: “Precisely.”

Doog: “What’s the point of isolating this protein though?”
Amundsen: “If the protein can be properly mapped, it can be recreated artificially. The protein can then be used for lots of things, like food preservation and cryogenics. It might even be possible to manipulate this protein so it is biocompatible with other living beings, like humans. Imagine soldiers injecting some ISP’s before a battle on a frozen world. They’d have the upper hand.”
Doog: “I volunteer to be the guinea pig in that experiment, especially if we have to head outside again.”
Amundsen: “Ha. I bet you would. Unfortunately, the protein isn’t compatible with human biology just yet. We’ve run into some roadblocks.”

Amundsen: “The proteins collected from the species of Volucris are already damaged. The protein goes to work the minute it is created.  We’re having difficulties isolating an undamaged protein.”
Doog: “What does that have to do with women, pregnant women, and babies?”
Amundsen: “It was thought that the protein could be gathered from babies or embryos prior to them being damaged. But, we’ve had limited success. The native sentient race is parthenogenetic, so many of the proteins are inherited from the mother.”
Doog: “They’re what?”
Amundsen: “Parthenogenetic. They reproduce asexually. The all-female population births genetic clones.”
Doog: “So, there’s no males?”
Amundsen: “Not a one.”
Doog: “Looks like I’m the big man on campus here on Volucris.”
Amundsen: “Uh, sure. Whatever you say.”

Amundsen: “Parthenogenesis is more common in populations with a scarcity of resources. Resources are not wasted on males, who cannot give birth.”
Doog: “We can be useless at times.”
Amundsen: “On a world like this, perhaps. However, not all species on Volucris reproduce in this manner. There’s still hope we can isolate an untarnished ISP from an embryo of another species. Unfortunately, that means we need to head out into the cold.”
Doog: “Oh joy…”

Amundsen: “Are you sure you can use one of these?”
Doog: “A snowmobile can’t be any harder than hoverbike. I should be alright.”
Amundsen: “Well, if you have any questions, be sure to ask.”
Doog: “There’s only one question I need to ask. Does this thing have a heater?”

Doog: “How is this possible? It almost looks like there's surface water here. Shouldn’t it be frozen?”
Amundsen: “Volucris is volcanically active. Areas near volcanic vents, like this, have some liquid water. It’s so cold though, the surface of the water, where it is exposed, is mostly a thick slush.”
Doog: “Yeah, I see that.”

Amundsen: “All lifeforms here, from single-celled organisms to the sentient Volu, are dependent on these volcanoes. Obviously, the heat keeps the water liquid, but it also plays other roles. It drives the snowy weather. The Volu use it to cook food and dry leather. The greenhouse gases they release keep Volucris a bit warmer than it would be otherwise.”
Doog: “Hm. Who ever knew volcanoes could be so useful.”

Doog: “It looks like the natives are fishermen.”
Amundsen: “Fisherwomen, but yes. Their primary food source is Frost Char.”
Doog: “Can you get any of those ISP’s from them?”
Amundsen: “No. They don’t have any. They live in the warm springs. They freeze solid when removed from the water.”
Doog: “How do these chicks eat them if they’re frozen?”
Amundsen: “The Volu have tools, constructed from hardened ice, that are used to mash and cut the frozen fish into a mushy ice paste. It is eaten like that.”
Doog: “Fish slushies…gross.”

Doog: “So, no ISP’s around here?”
Amundsen: “No. We’ll need to head further out. Let’s go.”

Doog: “My mustache is so frozen. It’s literally pulling down my face. That, or I’m having a stroke. Hard to tell with all convulsing and trembling my body is doing right now. Am I talking a lot? I feel like I’m talking a lot. I talk when I’m cold. I think it is the only thing that is keeping me alive. Did I mention my mustache?”
Amundsen: “Perhaps you should keep quiet for a bit. I don’t want the inside of your mouth to freeze. Although, that might not be a bad thing.”

Doog: “This just looks like another village. Why did we come here?”

Amundsen: “We’re not going to the village. We’re headed up the mountain.”
Doog: “Why did we leave the snowmobiles then?”
Amundsen: “Because we are going up the mountain. They don’t go up mountains.”
Doog: “I don’t go up mountains either. I better go back with the snowmobiles.”

​Amundsen: “It’s not too bad of climb. Look.”
Doog: “I am looking. It’s hard not to look. I think my eyelids are frozen in the open position.”
Amundsen: “I think you can manage it.”   
Doog: “Your faith in me is misplaced. I assure you.”

Amundsen: “Look. This part of the mountain is almost like stairs. A small climb then it levels out. A small climb then it levels out again.”
Doog: “Comparing things to stairs is the worse way to convince me to do anything.”
Amundsen: “Well, I’m headed up. I guess you can hang out with the locals.”
Doog: “I think I will.”
Amundsen: “I hope you don’t freeze solid around them. You’ll end up as a Doog slushy.”
Doog: “Sigh. Mountain stairs it is.”

Doog: “These steps are getting increasingly taller and steeper. I’m pretty sure this is actual mountain climbing. I’ve been misled.”
Amundsen: “We’re almost there.”
Doog: “Is it colder up here?”
Amundsen: “A bit.”
Doog: “Is there less oxygen too? I feel weak and exhausted.”
Amundsen: “No, we’re not nearly high enough. I believe the weakness might be due to the physical activities, if your labored breathing is any indication.”
Doog: “I am a bit out of shape.”

Amundsen: “Good news. We’re at the top.”
Doog: “That wasn’t so bad. The climb warmed me up a bit. I think I might be sweating…and I think said sweat might have frozen. I do believe my hair and my hood are a single entity now.”
Amundsen: “It’s not good to sweat out here.”
Doog: “It’s nice to know that now. So, why did we risk coming up here?”
Amundsen: “There’s a creature that nests up here in the mountains.”

Doog: “What is that? Is that a penguin?”
Amundsen: “Not a penguin, but a similar creature. We call them, Frostfowls.”
Doog: “Frostfowls are huge.”
Amundsen: “They truly are. So big, in fact, that they lost the ability to fly.”
Doog: “How did it get way up here then?”
Amundsen: “It climbed up here. Look at its curved beak. It’s a useful tool for climbing. Think of it as sort of a natural icepick. Frostfowls come up here each year to nest. Their eggs are safer from predators, like the Volu.”

Doog: “We came up here to steal some eggs, didn’t we?”
Amundsen: “Yes. Frostfowls reproduce sexually, so there’s chance the unborn embryo within an egg contains untarnished ISP’s.”
Doog: “What type of reaction are we expecting from the Frostfowl? Are we expecting a running situation?”
Amundsen: “I hope not. Frostfowls are quite agile despite their size, and that icepick of a beak can be used for more than climbing.”
Doog: ‘Uh…I better get a head start. I’ll scream up from the bottom of the mountain when it is safe for you to grab one.”

Doog: “Wait! What are you doing?!”
Amundsen: “Relax. I think if I just take one, we will be just fine. Just back away slowly.”
Doog: “Are you kidding me? You couldn’t have waited a few minutes? Look at her eyes. She’s giving us a death stare.”
Amundsen: “I think you were right before. This might be a running situation. GO!”

Doog: “Where…pant pant…are we…pant pant…going? Down…mountain….is…pant pant…other way…”
Amundsen: “There’s an emergency shelter up here. It’s closer. Let’s get inside.”

Doog: “I can’t believe you did that.”
Amundsen: “It might not have been wise with you in tow. For that, I apologize. At least we’re safe now.”
Doog: “And warm. I can feel my skin again.”
Amundsen: “Safe, warm, and we managed to get an egg. I’d say it was a good trip.”
Doog: “Speaking of eggs, what do you have to eat in here? All this running and climbing has me running on empty.”
Amundsen: “I think there’s a stash of dehydrated meat cylinders in that barrel over there. It might be a nice pick me up.”
Doog: “Heck no. Do you know how that stuff is made?”
Amundsen: “Well, your options are limited.”

Doog: “We do have an egg.”
Amundsen: “Hey! Put that down! We can’t eat the egg; we need it for science!”
Doog: “The nest wasn’t that far away. You could grab another one.”
Amundsen: “Well, run out there are grab one. This egg is mine! I stole it! Give it to me!”

Doog: “Uh…whoops.”
Amundsen: “What have you done?”
Doog: “Me? It was you temper tantrum that made it fall.”
Amundsen: “I can’t believe this. Now we have to go back out there.”
Doog: “Did I catch a ‘we’ in there? I think you mean ‘you”. I’m fine right here. I have a floor omelet to eat. But, hey, if you’re going out, grab a few more. I’ll whip us up something nice.”
Amundsen: “Sigh…”

Doog: “Well folks, what can I say? Volucris is a cold wasteland, but it’s home to some essential research. The complex life that evolved here has developed unique proteins to combat frostbite. These proteins have huge potential in many industries if they can be properly mapped and recreated. Finding these proteins in their purest form is a challenge, but it looks like researchers, like Dr. Amundsen, are up to the task. Hey! Get your hands off my floor omelet! I have to go folks. See ya!”


​ 
Note: Frostbunnies are the most abundant land creatures on Volucris. They’ve been domesticated by the Volu to some degree and exhibit little fear around other beings. Given their tame nature and quick reproduction rate, they were the first creatures to be studied by the researchers. However, it was discovered that Frostbunnies do not manufacture significant amounts of ISPs on their own. They supplement their lack of ISPs by eating the feces of the Volu and Frostfowls. Volunteers are needed to test if this way of consumption is compatible with other biological entities. 

Doog: “There’s nothing to eat. I’m starving.”
Mike: “If you ask me, you could use a good starve. Your shirts have been a tad taut as of late.”
Doog: “Well, I wasn’t asking you.”
Oldie: “There’s plenty to eat it in there.”
Doog: “I’m not eating this ​organic pony soup crap. It was disgusting when you first brought it onboard over a year ago. I don’t even want to know what it tastes like now.”
Oldie: “It tastes fine to me. If anything, age has given it some extra tang.” 

​Doog: “Tell me we’re going to a civilized world sometime soon. I need something other than protein sludge and expired pony soup.”
Mike: “There’s not many choices within our current range. We’re pretty limited.”
Doog: “What’s our closest choices?”
Mike: “There’s a space station, an ice world, and an agricultural world.”
Doog: “None of those sound too civilized. Tell me more about this agricultural world.”
Mike: “It’s a Mid-Rim world called Putredo. They produce pig products.”
Doog: “Jackpot baby! Set course for Putredo!”
Mike: “I thought you hated agricultural worlds?”
Doog: “This isn’t an agricultural world; it’s a Bacon World!”

Doog: “Welcome to another episode of LIU Atlas. I’m your host, Terrance “Doog” McDoogal. Today, we’re heading to the planet Putredo, also known as bacon paradise. Well, that’s what I’m calling it anyway. I’m told they produce pig products, but that’s about all I know. Hunger forced me to skip the research phase of this episode, so we’re pretty much going in blind.”

Doog: “You guys didn’t have to come. I’m more than capable of shooting this episode by myself, like I usually do.”
Mike: “If you think we’re missing out on bacon paradise, you’re crazy.”
Cam: “We certainly can’t trust you to bring anything back for us.”
Doog: “What! I’m trustworthy.”
Cam: “Remember those free frozen dinners we got on Foetida?”
Doog: “What about them? I brought them back.”
Cam: “We watched the show Doog. You got thirty, only twenty-five made it back.”
Mike: “We found them rest hidden next to the ship’s cooling system.”
Doog: “Wait. You guys are the ones who raided my stash! Thieves!”
Cam: “So, tell us again about how trustworthy you are.”
Doog: “Whatever. Let’s just focus on getting some bacon.”

Doog: “Uh, hey. Can we bother you for a bit? We need directions of the nearest bacon shop.”
Boneen: “The what?”
Doog: “Bacon shop. The place where they sell bacon. The place with the strips of juicy goodness.”
Boneen: “Uh, I have no idea what you’re talking about.”
Mike: “They must call it something different. Try Presciant.”
Cam: “No one here speaks Presciant.”
Doog: “Hey, I know a few words.”
Cam: “You know how to say alcohol and hooker. That’s it.”
Doog: “Well, I only learned the basics.”
Boneen: “Excuse me, but I speak basic. I understand everything you’re saying. I just don’t know anything about a bacon shop. I can show you around though. Maybe you’ll find what you need.”

​Mike: “This is pretty much what we need right here.”
Boneen: “Cooked pig?”
Doog: “Yes! But I’d prefer one cooked in a more sanitary place. There’s a confusing aroma of pig droppings and barbeque around here. I like my pork a little less on the manure side.”
Boneen: “I’m afraid all our pigs are cooked close to the pens. It’s more efficient. Steps further down the production line eliminate any contaminants, if that’s what you’re worried about.”
Doog: “Further steps?”
Boneen: “Yes, like the spicing and marinating steps.”
Cam: “You had me at ‘marinating’.”
Doog: “Well, what are we waiting for?”

Doog: “You guys sure have lots of pigs.”
Boneen: “Yes. Thousands.”
Mike: “How did so many pigs end up here? They’re obviously not native to Putredo.”
Boneen: “They were imported by the LIU. They found an industry that benefits both the LIU and my race.”
Doog: “Clearly, the LIU benefits from delicious pork products, but how does it benefit you? You eat it too?”
Boneen: “No. My race eats bones and bone marrow. They get the meat; we get the bones.”
Doog: “You eat bones? How is that even possible?”
Boneen: “Our powerful jaws were made for crushing bones and accessing the marrow. Between the two, there’s more than sufficient nutrients for my race.”

Boneen: “This is the spicing area.”
Cam: “What kind of spices are we talking about? Chili powder? Maybe some cumin?”
Boneen: “I’m not familiar with those spices. We use something a little more local. It’s called Harsk.”
Cam: “I’ve never heard of that.”
Doog: “Never heard of what? He didn’t say anything. He was just clearing his throat.”
Boneen: “No, I wasn’t. It’s called Harsk.”

Boneen: “A high-temperature electric bolt fuses the blue clay within the soil, causing it to crystalize. These crystals form the exotic salt that we call Harsk.”
Mike: “Why not use normal salt?”
Boneen: “Harsk has many properties that make it a better choice. For instance, its dehydrating and antibacterial properties.”
Doog: “I can get behind the antibacterial part. That eases my concerns about it cooking too close to the pig pens.”
Cam: “Hmm, this salted pork probably dehydrates into a jerky. It’s not bacon, put I’m still game.”
Boneen: “Shall we continue then?”

Boneen: “Roasted pigs are brought to Soak Houses, like this, to marinate in a solution of Harsk.”

​Doog: “How long is it soaked for? Three or four hours?”
Boneen: Oh, heavens, no.  That wouldn’t even loosen the ligaments. Minimum soak is fourteen days.”
Doog: “Fourteen days! In this unrefrigerated room! Doesn’t it spoil?”
Boneen: “Depends on what you mean by spoil. We want the meat to drip right off the bone.”
Doog: “Drip?!”
Boneen: “Yes. Open up one of the finished barrels.”

Cam: “Well, I lost my appetite.”
Oldie: “Ooh, that’s a bit tangier than the pony soup.”
Doog: “It…it’s…it’s ruined. All that scrumptious pork is gone.”
Mike: “Blasphemy.”
Boneen: “Oh, come on. It’s not that bad. The meat has putrefied into a protein sludge exposing the bones. We eat the bones and refine the meat sludge into an edible product.”
Doog: “Who would eat this vile desecration of bacon?” 

Boneen: “The protein sludge is processed in this building to the left.”
Mike: “I’m at a loss for words. This really backfired.”
Doog: “I’m at a loss for bacon. I knew it was too good to be true.”
Cam: “Luckily, I’m no longer hungry. For anything. Possibly forever.”
Oldie: “Great, now I’m going to have to share the last of the pony soup with you guys.”

Doog: “I thought we were going to the building on the left.”
Boneen: “We will. I thought you might want to check out these prime cuts of bone though. Mmm, mmm. Look at those tibias.”
Doog: “I’m half tempted to take up bone eating. At least it would be something different.”
Mike: “Those bones were covered in putrefied pig sludge.”
Doog: “Do you have to ruin everything?”

Boneen: “Barrels of protein sludge are brought here to be processed.”
Doog: “How could something that smells like that ever processed into anything edible?”
Boneen: “Oh, it’s simple. The Harsk prevents any bacterial growth, so it’s simply a matter of removing cadaverine particles and dehydrating the sludge.”

​Boneen: “And voila, out comes some dehydrated meat cylinders. The meat is cheap, never spoils, and has all the protein you’ll ever need. It’s a staple of the lower-class diet.”
Doog: “I can’t stand for this sacrilege any longer.”
Mike: “Uh-oh. I’ve seen that look in Doog’s eyes before. He’s got meat madness!”
Cam: “Not another meatmageddon…”

Mike: “Doog! Come back!”
Doog: “I can’t stand for this anymore! We must rescue these cooked pigs! They deserve better!”

Doog: “Why aren’t you helping me?! I can’t carry this thing alone.”
Mike: “We’re not helping you steal a pig. We live in the LIU. The penalty for theft is death.”
Doog: “Then I shall martyr myself for pork!”
Oldie: “Alright. Let’s intervene. We can’t let him get executed. The season isn’t over yet.”

Doog: “What are you doing? Get off me!”
Cam: “Whoa. Whoa. Just relax.”
Oldie: “We’ll get you a nice cheeseburger on the next civilized world.”
Doog: “Can I get bacon on it?”
Oldie: “If you settle down, we’ll see what we can do.”

Doog: “Well folks, Putredo turned out to be a bust. Of all the amazing things you can make with pigs, this place picks the worst one. There’s no bacon or roasts or tenderloins or pork chops or ribs or…”
Mike: “You’re sliding back to the meat madness again. Move on.”
Doog: “Oh, sorry. Here on Putredo they turn pigs into an organic soup of bones and protein sludge. They keep the bones for themselves, and process the sludge into edible meat cylinders for the poor. It’s a disgrace. Oh well, see ya.”
 

 
Note: Pig-In-A-Can now comes in family size.  Try it at your next family gathering. 

Doog: “Welcome to another episode of LIU Atlas. I’m your host, Terrance “Doog” McDoogal. Today, we’re visiting the ocean planet, Eremita. Eremita is slightly smaller than galactic standard, experiencing only 90% standard gravity. The lower gravity has some noticeable effects on the planetwide ocean, like larger waves and bigger solar tides. Also, it’s a good place to weigh yourself for a self-esteem boost.”

Doog: “A chain of conical islands, known as the Mandibula Archipelago, wraps a quarter way around the planet. These colossal, monolithic pillars were once connected, but erosion from the high waves has separated them into isolated peaks. One of these peaks has a small LIU settlement, and that is where we are headed.”

​Doog: “Alright folks, so here we are. I’ve been dropped off at this settlement that is about half way up one of the planet’s peaks. It’s smaller than I expected and precariously close to a long drop off. Perhaps I should move away from the edge.”

Mori: “Hey, Mr. McDoogal, up here!”
Doog: “Hey, homeless-looking guy, you come down here!”
Mori: “I don’t like going down there by the edge!”
Doog: “Well, I don’t like walking up steps!”
Mori: “Fine, we’ll meet in the middle!”

Doog: “Whew. I could never live someplace like this. There’s too many stairs. Thank goodness for weaker gravity.”
Mori: “Yeah, this place has its up and downs.”
Doog: “I see what you did there. So, who are you? Are you my guide?”
Mori: “I’m Hikiko Mori, signal analyst and sole human here on Eremita. And, no, I’m not your guide. I’m just here to serve as a point of contact. I’ll get you set up with your guide in a bit.”
Doog: “Sole human? That’s got to be lonely.”
Mori: “It can be, but honestly I like it. Besides, I’m hardly alone. I have the locals.”
Doog: “I’m sure LIU representatives visit too.”
Mori: “Not so much. Their visits are infrequent. I’m lucky to get quarterly resupply visits. Eremita can be a dangerous place. They don’t risk visiting more than necessary.”
Doog: “Yet, they have no problem sending me here. Thanks LIU. So, what kind of dangers are we talking about? Sea monsters, radiation bursts, carnivorous natives?”

Mori: “Well, there’s some obvious dangers, like living on the edge a steep mountain peak.”
Doog: “Yeah, no kidding. You couldn’t find somewhere safer to live?”
Mori: “There’s very little flat real estate on any of these peaks. Little indentions, like this one here, are the only safe places to build.”
Doog: “Yeah, but even this ‘indention’ has some steepness to it. Wouldn’t it be safer to live lower down on the peak, where there was less distance to fall?”
Mori: “Well, that brings us to the next danger. Eremita’s weaker gravity causes bigger ocean swells and waves. Anything built too low risks being destroyed by the sea.”
Doog: “Ah, yeah. I remember that now.”
Mori: “Alright, let’s descend.”
Doog: “Wait! What! You just said it was unsafe!”
Mori: ‘The waters are calm for now. We’ll be fine.”

Doog: “Safe for now, isn’t all that comforting. How predictable are these ocean waves? What happens if one shows up while we’re down here?”
Mori: “Well, I guess we start swimming and hope the waves don’t thrash us against the sharp rocks.”
Doog: “I was hoping for a better answer than that. Why are we down here anyway?”
Mori: “It’s time for you to meet Brachyura, one of the locals. He’ll be your guide.”

Doog: “Hold on, you can’t leave me yet. You haven’t finished telling me all the dangers!”
Mori: “Brachyura will take care of that. You’ll be fine. Besides, I don’t want to loiter down here too long. I’m not a great swimmer.”

Mori: “Doog, meet Brachyura. Brachyura, Doog.”
Doog: “Is this another one of the dangers? Crab men?”
Brachyura: “I’m not a crab. Does it look like I have ten legs?”
Doog: “One…two…three…uh, no. Only four limbs. What does that mean?”
Brachyura: “It means that I’m not a crab. Crabs are decapods or ten-legged. I’m a sentient crustacean of the Eremitan race.”
Doog: “Well, nice to meet you either way. I’d shake your hand…er…claw, but I don’t want to lose any fingers.”
Brachyura: “So, this is how it’s going to be today? You making lame jokes about my biology? Oh, joy.”
Doog: “Aw, someone is sounding like they might be a little crabby.”
Brachyura: “Sigh.”
Doog: “See what I did there? Huh? Huh? Why aren’t you answering me?”

Brachyura: “How important are you to the LIU?”
Doog: “About as important as any other Joe Shmoe in this galaxy.”
Brachyura: “So, not important at all. That’s good to know.”
Doog: “Why do you ask?”
Brachyura: “If you get too annoying, I might stage a little accident and make you disappear.”
Doog: “Good luck pulling off an accident on camera.”
Brachyura: “It’s a small boat. Tight quarters. Maybe you were standing too close to me. Maybe an abrupt turn knocks you into one of my head spikes. Maybe said spike impales your brain.”
Doog: “Alrighty then. Point taken. No more crab jokes. I’m only going to say nice things. The rest of this tour, I’m going to do nothing but butter you up. Get it! Ha! Butter! Because you’re a crab and people eat crabs with butter! Ha ha!”
Brachyura: “Come stand over by me.”
Doog: “Relax. I’m just having a bit of fun. Besides, it looks like we have witnesses approaching. It might not be wise to stage your accident now.”

Doog: “What’s going on here?”
Brachyura: “Fishing. It’s my people's livelihood. We live off the sea and its generous bounty.”
Doog: “That doesn’t look like a fish to me.”  
Brachyura: “Well, technically, it’s a jellyfish.”
Doog: “Whatever it is, it’s huge.”

Brachyura: “They’re called Tursent. They are one of the galaxy’s biggest jellyfish. Their translucent bell can measure up to 2.5 meters in length.”
Doog: “Do you guys eat them? Don’t they sting?”
Brachyura: “Our carapace protects us from stings. They’re only dangerous to weak-skinned creatures such as yourself.”
Doog: “I guess I deserved that.”
Brachyura: “Of course, our shell can protect us only while handling the jellyfish. To eat it, it must be prepared in a specific manner. The stingers and their toxins must be removed. This is usually done right away to avoid contamination. The jellyfish are often eaten right away too. They spoil quickly out of the water. This limits Tursent to the water tribes.”
Doog: “Water tribes?”

Brachyura: “My people are divided into two subgroups, the water tribes and the land tribes. The water tribes live in the open ocean in house boats, like this one here. They are sustenance fishers and get everything they need from the sea. They are safe from ocean swells. Their boats are stable and keep them atop of the waves.”
Doog: “And the land tribes?”
Brachyura: “They seek safety from the waves on the archipelago, some high up on the mountain, others in protected coves. They fish too, but the wildlife is different in the shallower areas around the islands. Unlike the water tribes, they also do a little farming.”
Doog: “And which tribe are you? I’m guessing water tribe because of this little house boat.”
Brachyura: “Yes. I am from the water tribe, but I’ve spent a good deal of time on land as well. My job as a courier for the LIU has taken me all throughout Eremita.”
Doog: “What exactly do you courier? I haven’t seen much worth taking from Eremita, well, at least from the water tribe.”

Brachyura: “Tursent, as I explained, is not of value to the LIU. It spoils quick. But, out here in the deep ocean, there’s another creature worth catching.”
Doog: “What's that?”
Brachyura: “The Spineback. Spinebacks are massive fish, averaging about 7 meters in length. They are carnivorous, eating mostly Tursent. They are difficult to catch, but each catch brings in hundreds of pounds of meat. When prepared properly, Spineback can be shipped off world.”
Doog: “Well, isn’t that crabtivating.”
Brachyura: “Did you just add the word crab into ‘captivating’?
Doog: “Caught that, huh? I thought it was clever. Not my best, though. I think I hit my peak earlier with that whole butter gig.”
Brachyura: “Speaking of peaks, we’re headed back to the islands now. Another bad joke like that, and you might find yourself accidentally falling down the mountainside.”

Brachyura: “This is Anchorite City. Nestled in a cove, it’s mostly protected from the rough seas. It’s one of the larger settlements belonging to the land tribes.”
Doog: “They look to be fisherman as well.”
Brachyura: “Mostly. The fish are different here around the continental shelf, though. There are smaller fish and other invertebrates.”

Doog: “Wait. Are those…crabs! Cannibals! You’re eating yourselves!”
Brachyura: “For the last time, we’re NOT CRABS!”
Doog: “Ow! Did you just pinch me?!”
Brachyura: “Did I? In my anger, it’s possible my pincher accidentally closed. I hope there’s no more accidents like that. Don’t you?”

​Doog: “There’s no need to resort to violence. I’m just joking around, trying to liven up this boring tour. Fishing is nothing new. I’ve done plenty of episodes on it.”

Brachyura: “Well, we have farming too.”
Doog: “I’ve seen countless farming worlds. Unless you are growing something special, I’m still bored.”
Brachyura: “We…uh…grow Larso Cane. We use its wood to make our boats.”
Doog: “Booooring!”
Brachyura: “Alright, I'll admit it. You might not have seen anything new, yet. But Eremita is far from boring. The planet has a secret. Let’s head inside.”

Doog: “What kind of secret? Is this one of the dangers that Mori was speaking of?”
Brachyura: “Indeed it is.”
Doog: “Am I safe?”
Brachyura: “Depends.”
Doog: “Depends? Am I safe or not?”
Brachyura: “It depends on how many bad puns and jokes you rattle off inside.”

Doog: “What’s the danger?”
Brachyura: “Eremita is home to a very dangerous creature. So dangerous, in fact, that they have been purposely hunted into extinction, at least in the wild. Several specimens have been captured and are imprisoned within various facilities throughout Eremita.”
Doog: “Imprisoned? That sounds serious.”

Brachyura: “It is serious. Its escape could have galactic consequences.”
Doog: “What kind of creature are we talking about?! Is it a hundred miles tall?”
Brachyura: “No, it’s about the same size as a human.”
Doog: “Well, does it shoot lasers out of its eyes?”
Brachyura: “Worse. It controls minds.”
Doog: “Mind control?”
Brachyura: “Yes. This ability was not discovered until the arrival of the LIU. Landing parties sent by the LIU kept dying. Most of them killed themselves by jumping off island cliffs into the water. It wasn’t until the signal was detected that the LIU realized what was happening.”
Doog: "A signal?”
Brachyura: “Yes. A deep-water radio signal.”

Brachyura: “The signal was emanating from cephalopodic creatures, called Agleopes. The Agleopes use the radio signals to alter other creatures’ brain functions. Radio waves disrupt and change the ion flows between synapses, allowing the Agleopes to control the flow of information in other animals' brains.”
Doog: “That's mind control?”
Brachyura: “Yes, but it is more complicated than that. That Agleopes can’t input instructions into your brain; they don’t speak Basic or Presciant or have access to your Whorf-Sapir profile. But, they can elicit you to react in certain ways by manipulating areas of your brain. For instance, the Agleope might excite the hypothalamus and elicit extreme thirst. The explorers walk to the edge seeking water, and then the Agleope disable parts of the cerebellum, causing the explorers to lose balance and fall to their death. There’s even evidence the Agleope attack the amygdala, eliciting a disproportionately low or high fear response.”
Doog: “That’s terrifying.”

Doog: “Are they trying to make me do things right now? Is that why I’m so hungry?”
Brachyura: “They might be trying, but they won’t succeed. The LIU developed signal disrupters to negate the Agleope signal. If you’re feeling hungry, it’s because you haven’t eaten.”
Doog: “That is entirely possible. So, how did your species learn to cope with these things before the LIU arrived?”
Brachyura: “My people are immune. Our thick, chitin shells protect our brains from manipulation.”
Doog: “Why would these ‘brain squids’ develop this ability if it doesn’t work on you guys?”
Brachyura: “Well, we’re not the only species here. The Agleope manipulate Spinebacks and Tursents. The ability acts as both a defense and an offense. They might make a Spineback feel full so it doesn’t eat them, or they might a school of Tursent attack a Spineback, so they can eat it.”

Doog: “It’s freaky, but is it really all that dangerous, now that the LIU has learned how to block the signal.”
Brachyura: “By studying the signal, the LIU hopes to gain the same abilities as the Agleopes. Testing has already begun. Once the LIU learns what radio signals cause which reactions, the Agleope Signal might be one of the more powerful weapons in their arsenal. Imagine beaming waves over entire planets causing the population to act however you see fit. They could cause mass violence or smother populations that forget they need to breathe.”
Doog: “Well, it looks like it’s time to dust off my old, tinfoil hat.”
Brachyura: “Perhaps, in a few years anyway. The study is still in its infancy. We’re now testing signals on sentient beings.”
Doog: “Not me, I hope.”
Brachyura: “No, not you. Not yet, anyway. We’re testing it on Hikiko. That’s his purpose here.”
Doog: “He said he was a signal analyst”
Brachyura: “He is. We beam Agleope signals into his brain and he tells us what is happening and what he feels.”
Doog: “Sounds like a horrible job.”
Brachyura: “Important though.”

Doog: “Well folks, that’s Eremita. This ocean world is home to many fascinating species, like fish, jellyfish, and mind controlling octopi. The sentient crabs aren’t half bad either. They’re developing mind control weapons too, which is horrifying to say the least. Well, see ya!”

Note:

Brachyura: “Did you call us sentient crabs? Again? Dr. Homaridae, activate signal ICP at Number #1.”
Homaridae: “Copy that. Broadcasting.”
Doog: “What is that? Oh, ok. I see. I’m urinating myself.”
Brachyura: “Anymore jokes and we try protocol Number #2, if you catch my drift.”
Doog: “That won’t be necessary. This will already be hard enough to explain to my crew.”

Doog: “Welcome to another episode of LIU Atlas. I’m your host, Terrance “Doog” Mc Doogal. Today, we’re visiting the planet Sacchari. Sacchari is an ancient world. Its sentient race emerged several hundred years before most other sentient life arose around the galaxy. Despite their head start, the native Saccharum were slow to develop much technology, instead focusing on an agrarian lifestyle. This changed when Sacchari was contracted into the ​Galactic Bureaucracy, and later, the LIU. Now, many of Sacchari’s ancient cities have been modernized, and Sacchari is fully integrated into galactic society. Let’s check it out.”

Doog: “Alright. I’ve been dropped off in Sacchari City, the planet’s designated capital. It’s obvious that this is an old city. There’s no roads, just narrow dirt paths between simply constructed buildings. The city itself is built on a large mound, so almost every path is some type of hill. Hills are like nature’s stairs, so I don’t find this feature all that amusing.”

Doog: “If you look up, you’ll see that this old city has some new additions. Sacchari City has been modernized to some degree. Power conduits, holo-receivers, and sub-space communications have all been integrated into the city.  It was a challenge to install all this new infrastructure in an already established, closely-packed city. You’ll see that most of the upgrades have been placed on roofs or across alleyways. Sacchari City is crisscrossed with electrical wires and transmission lines. You can hear them humming and buzzing all throughout the city.”

Dorane: “Charming, isn’t it?”
Doog: “If by charming, you mean jerry-rigged.”
Dorane: “Oh, come on. The city is a blend of old and new. You have all the old charm of an ancient city with all the amenities of a modern city.”
Doog: “I suppose. I’d rather have the modern city in its entirety, though. I guess that’s just what I’m used to. So, I’m assuming you’re my guide?”
Dorane: “Yes. I’m Dorane. I’m a tourist guide, here in Sacchari City. I usually spend a week showing folks around the city, but I’ve prepared a condensed version for today’s tour. Follow me.”

Doog: “Tourist come here? Is that Sacchari’s economy?”
Dorane: “Sacchari’s primary economy is agricultural, but tourism is a close second. It’s growing quickly too. I can see it bypassing the agricultural economy in a few years.”
Doog: “But why? Why would you waste your vacation dollars here?”
Dorane: “Why would they be wasted? Not everyone is looking to spend a week at an all-inclusive resort. Some people want to experience other cultures, and Sacchari is one of the best places for that. The Saccharum have been developing their culture for tens of thousands of years. They have amazing music, food, and drink.”
Doog: “Music? Is that what you call the ambient, dull hum of the electrical wires?”
Dorane: “Sigh. You’re a very skeptical person, aren’t you?”
Doog: “I’m just a realist. Personally, I’d never come somewhere like this. I live hard enough as it is. I wouldn’t pay to live in worse conditions.”
Dorane: “Don’t let the dirt roads and makeshift electrical grid fool you. Old doesn’t equal unkempt. Sacchari City has some of the best restaurants, hotels, and bars in the galaxy. You just have to look past the exteriors.”

Doog: “It does look to be popular with young adults.”
Dorane: “Yes, it’s very popular with the Post-Unification Generation.”
Doog: “The what?”
Dorane: “The Post-Unification Generation. Those who were born well after the Mid-Rim Unification War. They’ve grew up in a warless galaxy with a multi-species society. They have no grievances with other races, nor hatred for other cultures. In fact, they like to experience other cultures.”
Doog: “I was born well after the Mid Rim Unification War, myself. I’ve never heard of this PU Generation.”
Dorane: “Well, there’s other qualifiers too, like wealth. Not everyone can afford to galivant around the galaxy experiencing other cultures.”
Doog: “So, young adults born into money that feel no ill will towards anyone because they’ve never experienced any difficulties themselves, generation.”
Dorane: “However you wish to define it, there’s a lot of them here.”

Doog: “What’s this?”
Dorane: “From this balcony, you can look out and see the fields of Sacchari.”
Doog: “They stretch to the horizon.”
Dorane: “Yes. Every city on Sacchari is surrounded by fields. They are the lifeblood of every city.”
Doog: “What are they growing?”
Dorane: “They’re growing Siripus, a sugar crop. Sacchari is the largest producer of sugar in the galaxy.”
Doog: “Sweet. Get it, because sugar.”
Dorane: “Speaking of PU, that joke…stunk.”

Dorane: “Where was I? Oh, yeah. Sugar can be found in most plant species, but its commercial extraction is only viable in certain species with high sugar concentrations. Chief among these is Siripus. Every year, Sacchari ships out 4.7 billion tons of sugar.”
Doog: “Sounds profitable.”
Dorane: “Very, but not necessarily for the Saccharum. The Saccharum eat and drink things derived from the Siripus plant, so they’ve always grown it. But, they had no idea what value the Siripus plant had to the rest of the galaxy. The Tressans, and their Galactic Bureaucracy, were the first outsiders to arrive on Sacchari. The quickly bought the rights to the planet’s sugar crop from the naïve Saccharum. They made billions off these rights.”
Doog: “When the LIU absorbed the Galactic Bureaucracy, I’m assuming they inherited these rights.”
Dorane: “Yes. The Saccharum see little money from their sugar crop, besides labor fees. That’s why tourism is such a big deal. More money goes to the locals this way.”
Doog: “I could get behind helping the little man.”

Dorane: “The primary driver behind tourism here is also related to sugar, and the other components the Siripus plant.”
Doog: “How so?”
Dorane: “Food and drink.”

Dorane: “Sacchari City is full of shops, cafes, and restaurants selling food based on Siripus. People like sugar loaded drinks and food. Most come here to experience the native food firsthand.”

Dorane: “99.9% of the Siripus grown is used in sugar production. The native Saccharum use the rest for making food. At first, it was for themselves, but now, it’s also made for tourists.”
Doog: “These leaves are Siripus, right?”
Dorane: “Yes. In sugar production, the leaves are pressed to remove all the sugary fluids, but it’s prepared differently for various Saccharum dishes. In this instance, they are being dried out to make Siripus Sweet Tea.”
Doog: “Sweet tea is not really my cup of tea, what else do they make?”
Dorane: “Glad you asked. See that shop there? They ferment pressed Siripus to make Syrup Rum.”
Doog: “Now that’s what I’m talking about.”

Doog: “That’s too good. This could be dangerous.”
Dorane: “The natural sweetness disguises the alcohol.”
Doog: “How strong are we talking here?”
Dorane: “Every shop has a different version of Syrup Rum: some are sweeter, some are more distilled, and some have added ingredients. This particular version is pretty light on the alcohol.”
Doog: “Boo. I’ll get diabetes long before getting drunk on these.”
Dorane: “Well, I figured you wouldn’t want to do the strong stuff while doing a show.”
Doog: “You figured wrong.”

Dorane: “When I do week long tours, we spend a day doing a Syrup Rum crawl. We check out all the local shops. Tourists get to experience all the best and worst versions of Syrup Rum in Sacchari City.”
Doog: “Well, what are waiting for?”
Dorane: “Well, you could come back as a tourist. My fees are reasonable.”
Doog: “If they’re more than zero, that’s unreasonable for me. I’ll just search this place on my own, after the show.”
Dorane: “Good luck finding, and affording, the good stuff.”
Doog: “Whatever. Let’s move on.”

Dorane: “Alcoholic drinks aren’t for everybody, but no one can say 'no' to some Saccharum cuisine.”
Doog: “Smells good enough.”

Dorane: “The high sugar content of Saccharum food makes every meal taste like dessert. The Saccharum have some of the best pastries, sweet breads, and cakes in the galaxy.”
Doog: “That sounds perfect. Most of the gruel I can afford to eat has artificial sweeteners. Let’s get back to all natural.”

Dorane: “This establishment is known for its sweet, delicious sugar waffles.”
Doog: “You had me at waffles.”
Dorane: “Wait, it gets better. The Saccharum have many of variations of syrups and candies to adorn the top of the waffles. Would you prefer regular, extra sweet, caramel, sugar paste, or the supreme with all of the above?”
Doog: “Supreme, please. Bring me to sugar nirvana.”

Doog: “Well folks, Sacchari has really grown on me. Sure, its cities are older than dirt. Yes, there’s random wires hanging everywhere, buzzing annoyingly. But, the Saccharum people do amazing things with sugar, whether it’s growing it or cooking it. I could see myself coming back here one day. Now, if you’ll excuse me, it is time to enter a sugar coma. See ya!”
 
 
 
Note: Book a tour with Dorane today and get 25 credits off by mentioning, LIU Atlas. Exceptions apply. Tourists will be on a week long, high sugar diet. Please see both your dentist and doctor before visiting. Children welcome…at your own risk.

Doog: “Welcome to another episode of LIU Atlas. I’m your host, Terrance “Doog” McDoogal. Today we’re visiting the unique moon of Talpa. Talpa looks similar to most lifeless moons in the galaxy, with its bare rocky terrain and lack of vegetation, but it is, indeed, teeming with life. Most of this life has evolved to live underground, where it is safe from radiation. We’re here to check it out.”

Doog: “Alright folks, I’ve been dropped off outside a small house on the moon’s surface. Talpa may look barren from orbit, but, down here on the surface, you can easily see that there is indeed life. Several varieties of mushrooms are sprouting up from the dry, desiccated soil. If I remember anything from school, mushrooms are fungi, and they eat decomposed organic matter. If there’s mushrooms, there must be other lifeforms. That’s just speculation though. Let’s head over to this house and ask my guide.”

Flynn: “Welcome to Talpa, Doog. I’m Dr. Flynn Stone, but please call me Flynn. Also, I am acutely aware that my name bears a resemblance to a fictional, prehistoric family, so keep all the jokes to yourself. I’ve heard them all.”
Doog: “I’ll make sure I yabba-dabba-do that. Sorry, had to get it out of my system. So, what do you do here?”
Flynn: “I’m the science officer for operations here. My background is in astrobiology, but I dabble in several fields, from space weather to mycology.”
Doog: “A jack of all trades, huh? So, what kind of operation do you support?”
Flynn: “Talpa’s principal export is hyphae branches of fungal mycelium.”
Doog: “Huh?”
Flynn: “Er…mushroom roots, more or less. The fungal systems and their accompanying ecosystem are complex, though. Harvesting the hyphae in a responsible manner is part of my duties on Talpa. Come inside, and I’ll explain in more detail.”

Doog: “This place is…homely.”
Flynn: “It’s a bit small, but it serves its purpose nicely. My lab and the kitchen are downstairs, and the bathroom and bedroom are above, in the loft.”
Doog: “Will anything in here help you explain the fungal system? Is there something growing in your kitchen? No need to be ashamed, we have quite the collection of fungi onboard the Magellan.”
Flynn: “I’m sure you do, but no, my kitchen is clean. I want to show you something in the lab.”

Flynn: “The ecosystem on Talpa is highly cyclical. It’s a complex system of birth, death, and rebirth. It’s all driven by Talpa’s unique orbit. I’ve brought up a diagram on the screen over here.”

Flynn: “First, Talpa orbits the gas planet, Talpis, which in turn orbits the star Talpae. Charged particles from Talpae get trapped in Talpis’ strong magnetic field. This creates a radiation torus, or Van Allen belt, around Talpis. Talpa’s highly elliptical orbit takes it in and out of the belt.”
Doog: “Are we in the radiation belt now? Is it dangerous?”
Flynn: “No, we’re not in it now. If we were, we wouldn’t be leaving this house. The radiation levels inside the belt are high enough to kill anything on the surface.”
Doog: “Well, how long before Talpa goes back in the belt? I don’t want to get stuck in here with you…no offense.”
Flynn: “Talpa has an orbital period of twenty-four days, meaning that it takes Talpa twenty-four days to make one complete circle around the planet.”
Doog: “I know what an orbital period is. Just explain which of the twenty-four days are the deadly radiation days, and when I should expect it.”
Flynn: “Talpa spends three days inside the radiation belt and nine days out. Then it repeats the same pattern, three more in and nine more out. This is day three out of the belt, so you have six days to complete your tour.”
Doog: “Whew, ok. I won’t need more than six hours, so I should be alright.”

Doog: “Where are we headed now?”
Flynn: “I figured we’d check out some of Talpa’s industry.”
Doog: “Yeah, you mentioned something about that before, mushroom farming or something.”
Flynn: “Not quite. Mushrooms are just the fruiting bodies, or reproductive organs, of the fungi. This species’ mushrooms are of little use. We’re more interested in the organisms’ hyphae.”
Doog: “I think I remember you saying something about that earlier. Hyphae are like mushroom roots.”
Flynn: “The main part of a fungus is the mycelium. It’s sort of like a web of fibers that seeks out organic materials and consumes it. The individual fibers of the mycelium are called hyphae. So, they’re not true roots, like plants, but they look similar enough.”

Doog: “What kind of organic material is there? I haven’t seen anything other than mushrooms. It doesn’t eat itself, does it?”
Flynn: “No, it mostly consumes decomposing, moss-like plants, called Urey. Urey are ephemeral, meaning they have extremely short life cycles. They grow, reproduce, shoot their seed spores into the air, and then die, all in about seven days. Today, being day three, we should start to see some surface discoloration as the Urey begins to grow.”
Doog: “Yikes. Seven days is hardly a life.”
Flynn: “Yes, for you or me, but it’s the only way this species can survive. Every nine days when the radiation returns, the Urey die off. Only their protected spores survive. Two generations live and die every month. It’s the driving force of Talpa’s ecosystem.”
Doog: “How so?”
Flynn: “Well, we’ve already established that the various fungi here eat the decomposing Urey. More complex animals, like insects, feed off the fungi. Even more complex animals feed on the insects. The Urey are the start to the chain of life.”
Doog: “There’s more complex life here? I haven’t seen anything.”
Flynn: “It all evolved underground where there’s less radiation and a more stable atmosphere.”

Doog: “Yeah, what’s the deal with the atmosphere? I’ve noticed you’re wearing a breathing apparatus, but no pressure suit.”
Flynn: “There’s sufficient pressure, but the air is not breathable. The chemical reactions that occur in the atmosphere during the three-day radiation plunge effectively make the atmosphere poisonous. The high levels on Xenon don’t help either. It’s safer underground, but workers down there still utilize breathing masks for safety purposes.”
Doog: “Got it. So, this is where we head underground?”
Flynn: “Yes, this is Camp Isaiah. It is one of several dozen Shroomjack camps on Talpa.”
Doog: “Did you just say shroomjack?”
Flynn: “Yeah. Like lumberjacks, but they cut down hyphae instead trees.”
Doog: “Shroomjack…wow, that’s a new one.”

Doog: “I always dreamed I’d be filming inside a locker room one day, although, it was more covert, and there were way less guys.”
Flynn: “Uh…awkward. Anyway, this isn’t a locker room. This is the common area. Shroomjacks relax here until their shift begins. The dorms are just around the corner.”
Doog: “There’s lockers right there and half naked guys walking around. Hard to call it anything else.”
Flynn: “I guess our eyes are drawn to what we want to see. Head over to that airlock over there. Let’s get into the tunnels.”

Flynn: “We must harvest the hyphae in a sustainable manner. Too much damage to the mycelium will kill the organism. That means that the scope of Camp Isaiah’s operation is huge. They harvest in hundreds of miles of various tunnels.”
Doog: “What makes these tunnels? That cool mech over there?”
Flynn: “No. That’s a handler suit. It does some of the heavy lifting, but its primary duty is to handle the diggers.”
Doog: “Wait, is it holding a leash?”

Flynn: “Yes. We’ve tamed one of Talpa’s native creatures, the mole-bear. We use their powerful sense of smell to locate large groupings of hypha. They also do most of the digging. They make quick work of this soil with those claws.”
Doog: “A mole-bear?” 
Flynn: “Yep. The apex predator and largest animal on Talpa. Mole-bears eat fungi and insects.”
Doog: “It’s huge. I wasn’t expecting something like this down here.”
Flynn: “Neither were the first explorers. They’re one hundred percent subterranean, so they left no signs of their existence on the surface.”

Doog: “This might be a dumb question, but if they evolved underground and always live underground, what is the purpose of having eyes?”
Flynn: “Ah, good question. The mole-bears do possess eyes, but they are quite simple. They mostly just detect light.”
Doog: “There’s not a whole lot of that down here. The only reason we can see down here is because of the spotlights. I’m assuming it would be pitch black otherwise.”
Flynn: “Yes, but detecting light allows the mole-bears to realize when they accidentally gone to high and breached the surface. There’s another use too. The fungi here are bioluminescent. The radiation they absorb on the surface gives them a faint glow. Seeing this glow allows the mole-bears to find food.”
Doog: “Hmm. Fair enough.”

Flynn: “Another mole-bear must have detected a hypha cluster; the shroomjacks are moving out. Be sure to stay close to me and use my headlamp. It will be dark until we reach the fungi.” 

Doog: “Whoa. That glow and the twisted mushroom roots are kind of creepy.”
Flynn: “I think they’re quite beautiful. We’re a few meters underground, and there’s light.”
Doog: “Sure, I guess. Wait, we’re only a few meters underground? I thought we we’re deeper.”
Flynn: “No, the fungi only grows in the upper layers of the soil. It’s where the decomposing materials are. Occasionally, you might find some of the mycelium deeper, but that’s just because a mole-bear had died there, and there’s organic material to be absorbed.”
Doog: “The shroomjacks use axes to harvest the hyphae? Seems primitive.”
Flynn: “Unlike trees, the hyphae are easy to cut. An axe cuts them clean in one swing. Using larger machinery to collect the hyphae would be a waste and would increase the odds of cave-ins.”

Doog: “Why collect hyphae at all? What is it used for? Is it a building material like wood?”
Flynn: “No, it’s nothing like wood, despite the shroomjack name. The hyphae are collected for their abundance of chitin.  Chitin is the primary component in the exoskeleton of arthropods, the scales of fish, and the cell walls of fungi. It has many uses, but the chitin of the Talpa fungi is used primarily in the medicinal field.”
Doog: “How so? To give people fish scales and lobster claws?”
Flynn: “Uh, no. Talpa fungi chitin is biologically inert. It doesn’t react with the immune systems of most species. Therefore, it can be added to the body without initiating an immune response. It’s used in tissue scaffolding, surgical fabrics, and xenotransplantation.”
Doog: “Hey, I had tissue scaffolding installed before the Mel treatments when I lost my hand on Caetarius. Does that mean I have Talpa fungi in my arm?”
Flynn: “More than likely.”
Doog: “Sweet. Hey, thanks fungi!”

Doog: “Well folks, Talpa is an interesting moon. Its elliptical orbit moves it through its planet’s radiation belt, killing everything on the surface every nine days. This caused life here to evolve uniquely. Some life evolved quick lifespans, while others sought safety underground. There’s giant mole-bears and lifesaving fungi. Oh, well. See ya!”

Note:

Doog: “Welcome to another episode of LIU Atlas. I’m your host, Terrance “Doog” McDoogal. Today, we’re visiting the small, iron-rich world of Haruspex. After initial scans, Haruspex was thought to be a perfect candidate to become a mining world, but the planet’s first explorers realized that Haruspex offered a lot more. We’re here to find out what that is.”
​

Doog: “Alright folks, I’ve been dropped off in a coastal village on Haruspex. The village is comprised of small, low-tech buildings. I can assume, with some certainty, that the natives are a pre-industrial, agricultural species. I also know that the natives don’t speak Basic, or even Presciant, so I won’t be interacting with them directly. Instead, our guide for this episode will be a third-party interpreter. May I introduce Sinciput, one of the Encyclopedians.”

​

Sinciput: “Yes. Thank you. I am Sinciput, Scion of Nabu, Scholar of Haruspex, Pharmaceutical Botany Expert, and Grandmaster of Ioclean Chess.”
Doog: “Yeah, thanks for your résumé. That’s sort of why I introduced you; I was hoping to avoid the whole listing of the titles thing. It’s an annoying habit you Encylopedians picked up.”
Sinciput: “One cannot be proud of his achievements? Besides, that list was an abridged version. I thought I was sparing you.”
Doog: “Speaking of abridged, can you give us a quick summary of Haruspex?”
Sinciput: “I’m afraid Haruspex, like most worlds, is too complex to be summarized in a few sentences. I’ve been here five years, and there’s still a whole lot to learn.”

Doog: “Well, let’s start with something simple. What’s up with this orangish-red sea?”
Sinciput: “Ah, yes. It is one of Haruspex’s defining features. The planet’s abundant iron is corroded by oxygen and water, forming particles of iron oxide. The water derives its color from the particles.”
Doog: “So…it’s rust water?”
Sinciput: “Precisely.”
Doog: “Gotcha. So, no drinking the sea. Also, I should probably schedule an appointment for a tetanus shot.”
Sinciput: “It would be wise. Lock jaw would not be ideal for an entertainer, such as yourself."

Doog: “Alright. So, we’ve knocked out some of the planet’s physical characteristics. Now, let’s move on to the Haruspexans…Haruspexians…the natives.”
Sinciput: “Haru, is the preferred term. It’s short and concise.”
Doog: “Ok, tell us about the Haru.”
Sinciput: “The Haru evolved from a semi-aquatic species and came to live on the land. They are the only animals on Haruspex to become fully terrestrial, although there are several plant species that did the same. The Haru came to the land to eat these plants, specifically, the seed cones of the Julapa Tree. Over the millennia, the Haru have learned to farm these trees, allowing for a more stable society. They have now become an agrarian society.”
Doog: “Not quite as short and concise as the name, but I get it. The Haru are farmers.”
Sinciput: “Yes. Isn’t that what I said?”

Sinciput: “Their stable society is now able to live in more permanent structures. They no longer need to live as nomads, in search of food.”
Doog: “Call me a nomad, then. Because I’m always in search of food. Anyway, what can you tell us about these structures?”

Sinciput: “Well, there’s not a lot of architectural diversity here. The Haru have found a design that works, and they mostly stick to it. There is one feature to note, though. The ground floors of these structures are all communal. Anyone can enter the ground, or first, floor of any structure. They’re used to store food, drink, water, and communal tools. The second floors are private residences though.”
Doog: That’s good to know. If things go bad this season, I might have to come live here in one of these communal first floors.”
Sinciput: “I don’t think it works that way, but it would be an interesting experiment. It would help with my studies.”
​ 

Doog: “If I did stay here, I’d need to bring my own food. Seed cones and sea snails don’t sound all that great.”
Sinciput: “Seed cones are a bit tart, but they’re not too bad. And, you won’t have to worry about eating sea snails, even the Haru don’t do that.”
Doog: “Really? The Haru have been pulling snails out of the sea since I got here. I just assumed they ate them.”
Sinciput: “Oh, no. The Haru are fully vegetarian. The snails, called Prophet Conches, are collected for a religious ceremony.”
Doog: “Ah. Got it.”
Sinciput: “For the sake of knowledge, I have tasted one, though. Let’s just say that they taste like chicken…marinated in rust sauce.”
Doog: “I’ll pass.”
​

Doog: “What do conches have to do with religion? And, why are they called Prophets?”
Sinciput: “One of the central tenets of Haruspex culture is divination. They believe events can be foretold by examining the entrails of this conch. Every week, several Prophet Conches are sacrificed and examined to determine future events, like rain, famine, and health.”
Doog: “That sounds crazy. How would someone ever predict the future using snail guts?”
Sinciput: “You know what’s even more crazy? Somehow, it seems to work.”
Doog: “No way.”
Sinciput: “I was critical of the results, myself. But, their track record is strong. Somehow, the Haru are divining future events with high accuracy using conch intestines.”
Doog: “I think you might have eaten too many snails.”
Sinciput: “You don’t have to believe, but I have the data to back it up. I’d place their accuracy at about eighty percent. Let’s check out the temple behind us. You can see for yourself.”  

Sinciput: “Every village has a temple similar to this. It is used solely for divination. While the temple itself has been rebuilt several times, the temple’s foundation has been dated to be two thousand years old. The Haru have been practicing this form of divination for centuries. It is said that they even foretold the arrival of the LIU. That hasn’t been verified though.”
Doog: “How does it work?”
​

Sinciput: “The village’s priest takes his place on the divination altar. The altar is inscribed with ancient Haru runes.”
​

Sinciput: “The priest then takes a Prophet Conch and places it in the center of the altar. A ceremonial cut is made, and then…”

Sinciput: “…the conch’s entrails are dropped onto the altar. The way they fall on these runes allows the priest to predict future events.”
Doog: “I smell something fishy going on…no, really. Those snail guts smell really fishy.”
​

Priest: “Mugiz er consula. Mugiz era hugo rey er consula. Diga er, quin era fuela? Consula er te. Consula er misimo arqua.”
Sinciput: “The guts tell him that there will be no rain again this week.”
Doog: “Is this some type of parlor trick? How would this ever work?”
Sinciput: “Well, I have some theories about that, and they all revolve around another plant on Haruspex. Follow me.”

Sinciput: “As I mentioned before, the Haru have developed many agricultural practices. We’ve seen all the Julapa Trees spread about the village, but you also may have notice these other plants. They’re called Arculent Flowers.”
​

Doog: “These huge things are flowers?”
Sinciput: “Yes. They are the reproductive organs of the Arculent Plant. They’re big and shaped like this, to help catch windblown pollen. Haruspex doesn’t have any natural pollinators, like insects or birds, so the plant life here is entirely dependent on wind.”
Doog: “So, what does this have to do with telling the future?”
Sinciput: “I’m getting there. The Arculent flower captures pollen and directs it down the plant’s pistil. The pistil produces a sticky liquid to capture said pollen. The Haru collect this sticky liquid. They call this liquid, Evoco.”
Doog: “Not to interrupt again, but did that Haru priest mention anything about when your story is going to be over? Or could he not see that far into the future?”
Sinciput: “Patience, Doog. I coming to the point now.”

Sinciput: “The Haru cook the Evoco down into a fine powder. This powder is then mixed with boiling water to make a type of coffee drink. Here’s the important part; the Evoco contains ultra-high levels of nootropics.”
Doog: “New what?”
Sinciput: “Nootropics, or cognitive enhancing drugs.”
Doog: “Like smart pills?”
Sinciput: “Well, not pills, but yes. Nootropics enhance memory, perception, concentration, and even intelligence.”
Doog: “So, the Haru aren’t making blind predictions. They’re making highly educated guesses while revved up on the Evoco Coffee.”
Sinciput: “That is my theory. The Haru can accurately predict future events because they are observing various indicators while their mind is enhanced. They can better perceive weather patterns or detect variations in other members’ health.”
Doog: “I bet the LIU is all over this.”
Sinciput: “Yes. Various nootropics have been in use for decades, but this new, natural nootropic might be the best one yet. At the conclusion of my studies, the LIU would like to farm Arculent plants commercially. I’m essentially here to see if this will be feasible.”
Doog: “Will it?”
Sinciput: “Probably, but at great cost to Haru culture. Things will change swiftly for them.”

​Doog: “In summation, Haruspex is a fascinating locality. Rust-laden draughts of air, from the planet’s vermilion, iron-oxide seas, invoke memories of my childhood. A chemical reminder of days long past. Days exploring shuttered factories on Cunabula. The rhythmic, rustling of the nearby trees mimics the repetitive factory machinery, adding to my recollection. In fact, I can seemingly hear every branch creaking in a precise order, almost like a propagating wave of acoustic reminiscence…”
Sinciput: “Did you drink some Evoco Coffee?!”
Doog: “I may have dabbled.”
Sinciput: “I think you might have overdone it. You’re not making any sense. Maybe you should just wrap this up quickly.”
Doog: “It would be repugnant of me to deny my wisdom to my viewers…uh…wait…I’m getting sleepy. See ya.”
 
 
Note: “Synthesized versions of the nootropic are already in small scale production for live testing. The Evoco synthetic is being tested under the name, Booster Seat.”