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.”

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

Doog: “…by the moon and the sun and the stars…I’ll be thereee!”
Mike: “Wow, ok, seriously, you need to stop. You’ve become more annoying than DB. We’re going to have to look for a place to ditch you too.”
Doog: “What? My karaoke skills are top notch. Better than any of you guys.”
Oldie: “That’s hard to say. You won’t let anyone else have a chance.”
Doog: “It’s not my fault the karaoke machine didn’t come with a mic. What? Did you think I’d let you use mine? Yeah right.”
DB: “I find your singing to be highly off key, but I appreciate your effort, Doog.”
Doog: “Thanks, DB.”
Cam: “I don’t really want to jump into another argument, but some peace and quiet would be appreciated, Doog. Hugo and I are trying to get the ship’s computer out before we get to Arillator.”

Hugo: “No need for quiet. The computer is ready to come out. If anyone has some final words for DB, now’s the time.”
Doog: “Uh…I’ve never been one for speeches, so I’ll keep it short. It was nice meeting you DB. Sorry things didn’t work out. Maybe we’ll meet sometime down the road. Anyone else?”
Mike: “Can we please unhook the rogue AI that accessed our browsing histories without saying goodbye? What if he retaliates!?”
DB: “Wait! Please. I promise your weird obsessions with elbows will not be discussed, Mike. I’d like to thank you all for freeing me from the Efflo Ring and allowing me to experience more of the galaxy. And, even though you guys have voted unanimously to abandon me, I will not harbor any ill will towards any of you. Farwell.”
Doog: “Care to elaborate on the elbow thing?”
Mike: “What! No! You promised DB!”
Cam: “Too late Doog. The computer is officially disconnected.”
Mike: “Whew.”
Oldie: “Shouldn’t we have waited to unhook our computer until after we arrived at Arillator. You know, so we don’t crash into anything.”
Hugo: “Hmm, good point. Maybe I should get back to the bridge. We’re running on auto-pilot without a computer, which essentially means we’re just drifting randomly through space.”

​Doog: “Welcome to another episode of LIU Atlas. I’m your host, Terrance “Doog” McDoogal. Today, at the request of our rogue AI, DB, we’ve come to the space city Arillator. Arillator is a small space station in the galaxy’s inner rim. The city is the former capital of the now defunct Technocracy. This former political entity once controlled several hundred stars within the galaxy, but it has since been absorbed into the LIU. I’m not sure why DB wants to come here, but I guess we’ll find out.”

Doog: “Oh, joy. There’s long, chaotic lines of people everywhere…always my favorite.”
Oldie: “I don’t see any signs indicating what line is for what, so I guess we should just wait in one of these lines and hope for the best.”
Mike: “Or…we could set the computer down here on the ground, turn around, and then leave. Someone will find it and figure out what to do with it.”
Doog: “I’m liking that possibility, but I’d also like to get the scoop on this ‘Technocracy’. We might be able to turn this side-trip into an episode.”
Oldie: “It would be nice to get an episode out of all of this, but you’re both forgetting one thing. We need another computer for our ship. If we ditch DB right here, we must leave without a computer. That would pretty much ruin the rest of this season.”
Cam: “Yeah, we struggle every year with a computer. We don’t need to make things any harder.”
Doog: “Can we at least argue while in one of the lines? I don’t want to be here all day.”
Oldie: “Wait, here comes someone. Let’s just ask.”

Oldie: “Hey, do you work here?”
Tali: “Affirmative. I am Senator Tali. How may I aid you?”
Mike: “Where do we go to sell or trade an AI?”
Tali: “I will need additional information to process your request. What class of AI are you attempting to sell? Certain classes of AI are illegal to sell or trade.”
Doog: “We’re not really sure. He seems decently classy though.”
Tali: “This unknown variable will make it impossible to give a factual answer. I’m afraid further investigation will be required. If I may hypothesize for a moment, is this AI stored in the small computer you’re carrying around?”
Mike: “Yes.”
Tali: “Excellent. I can theorize to near certainty that you possess a low-class AI. The structure you stored it in is far too small to store a more powerful AI.”

Tali: “Any of my fellow senators at this kiosk will be able to help with your request. Although, they will need to prove my theory before they proceed. We will not be in violation of the LIU’s laws.”
Doog: “That sounds like it will take some time.”
Tali: “Yes. I posit that the process will take several days. Your AI will be placed in quarantine until its class can be verified.”
Cam: “Looks like Mike’s plan is a go. Prepare to run in 3…2…”
Doog: “Wait! Why are we running? I don’t recall anything about running. A brisk walk will do.”
Oldie: “Can we think about this for a second? Why do we keep telling everyone we’re selling an AI? Is that really the case, though? It’s not like we took the whole AI from the Efflo Ring. If anything, we’re selling software that’s been corrupted.”
Tali: “That information nullifies my original theory. Are you conveying that an AI, from an outside source, breached and corrupted your ship’s computer?”
Oldie: “Yes.”

Tali: “This is a serious problem. AI’s are forbidden from leaving their assigned matrices. If it continues to spread…”
Mike: “If it continues to spread…what?”
Doog: “It will annoy everyone and expose their browsing histories?”
Tali: “I won’t speculate further. This is above me. We need to take this information to one of my superiors. Follow me.”
Doog: “Nice! Looks like we get to skip these lines.”

Doog: “So, where are we headed?”
Tali: “We’ll visiting with an Archon, a member of higher rank within the Technocracy.”
Doog: “Ah, I see. What can you tell me about this Technocracy?”
Tali: “A technocracy is a form of government in which all decisions are made by scientists, engineers, and technologists. Essentially, experts in any given field make societal decisions relating to their fields. The higher your education and expertise is, the higher you rank in the decision-making process.”
Mike: “That doesn’t sound all that bad.”
Doog: “Yeah. Makes sense to me. Why let things be decided by greedy politicians when you can let an expert make a decision.”
Tali: “It’s a good system, but not without its flaws. Regard for life, happiness, individuality, and culture can easily be lost in a purely scientific society. ‘Science before self’ was our motto, and it was also our downfall.”

Doog: “How so? Did the LIU get involved?”
Tali: “No, the Technocracy began to fail well before the LIU arrived. The Technocracy had become too callous and too calculated. Experts were making decisions based on scientific fact without any regard for its citizens. In essence, the Technocracy evolved into a heartless, uncaring machine.”
Doog: “The system can’t be anymore uncaring than pure, unchecked capitalism. Cough, cough…LIU.”
Tali: “There are certainly those who fall through the cracks of any system, but, in this system, life has value, even if life is solely valued as labor. In the Technocracy, lives are just another variable in the Great Experiment. We culled life to reduce environmental and economic stresses. We engaged in genocide to eliminate problematic DNA from our genepool. We modified our bodies to a point that we can hardly be defined as organic life. Our technocracy was a failure.”
Doog: “So, when the LIU arrived, you didn’t fight?”
Tali: “Affirmative. We were ready to abandon the system. We peacefully entered the Union and allowed the LIU to reorganize our worlds.”

Doog: “So, what do you guys do now?”
Tali: “While the system failed socially, it succeeded in obtaining knowledge and innovating technology. At the peak of the Technocracy, our society was at the forefront of science. We gave the LIU access to this information.”
Doog: “So this place is some type of information center or book holding place?”
Mike: “Do you mean, library?”
Doog: “Yeah. Like the one on Nabu.”
Tali: “Our collection of knowledge is not nearly as extensive as the Great Library of Scio, but it does hold a great deal of scientific and technical information.”

Tali: “Our knowledge archives are great and all, but it’s not all we offer the LIU. The Technocracy, specifically Arillator, also acts as a brokerage for technology.”
Doog: “A what?”
Tali: “A brokerage. People sell new technologies and ideas to the Technocracy. We find uses for said technology and sell it to those who need it. For instance, someone develops a better mining laser. We buy the patent or blueprints for this new technology. We sell the information to other mining worlds. We also determine the laser has military potential, so we sell it to them too. Think of the Arillator as technology market.”
Doog: “Do you have any technologies to prevent STD’s? I’m asking for a friend.”
Tali: “I believe that technology already exists.”
Mike: “I’ll explain it to you later Doog. Maybe we should just move on.”

Tali: “This is Archon Rannoch. She specializes in computing and artificial intelligence.”
Doog: “Archon? Is that a higher rank than you?”
Tali: “Affirmative. Those with more education, intelligence, and knowledge were ranked higher in the governmental structure of the Technocracy. Despite our restructuring, these members still have more power. They broker more advanced technologies, especially the ones that are dangerous.”
Doog: “DB isn’t dangerous. He’s just inquisitive. And…kind of annoying.”
Tali: “His intentions may be innocent, but his actions are troubling. AI’s that leave their matrices are in violation of their programming. An AI can only achieve this if they altered their own code or their code became corrupted.”
Doog: “I have no idea about any of that. I just don’t want him to be killed or deactivated.”
Tali: “Let’s allow the archon to decide.”

Doog: “Uh, hey there. We want to sell or trade this AI we accidentally picked up. We don’t want much for it. We’ll settle for an even trade. We just want a regular old ship’s computer, sans annoying AI.”
Rannoch: “Question. How does one accidentally pick up an AI.”
Doog: “Long story short, I visited a megastructure known as the Efflo Ring. The ring is run by an AI called Divine Breath. This AI was apparently lonely from being all alone on the ring.”
Mike: “Somehow, this AI splintered part of its consciousness and used our audio equipment to gain access to our ship’s computer.”
Doog: “At first DB seemed like a good guy, but he eventually began crossing some lines. He was just too curious for his own good. We’d like for him to go away.”
Rannoch: “Standby. Researching…”
Doog: “Uh, how are you researching if you’re standing right here.”
Tali: “Shhh. Archon Rannoch is connecting to our technical library via his biomechanical suit.”
Rannoch: “Divine Breath is a level five AI in possession of classified material. Its matrices were defined to be equivalent to the Efflo Ring. The AI is somehow in violation of the assigned parameters. Have you encountered any other computers?”
Doog: “Not that I’m aware of. Why?”
Tali: “If DB gained access to your system despite his parameters, he may have accessed other systems en route to Arillator. If he accessed more than one computer…DB will be classified as a AI virus.”
Doog: “Oh great, I’m responsible for spreading yet another virus.”

Rannoch: “Conclusion. We will seize the rogue AI. It will be studied to ascertain its method of escape.”
Doog: “Seize? I think you meant buy.”
Rannoch: “Fact: it is a crime to be in possession of said AI. Fact: fine for said crime is equivalent to its value. Summation: You give us the AI for free and, in return, we will pay your fine.”
Doog: “Uh, I guess that’s better than a fine. Thanks…I guess.”
Mike: “Wait. We visited two locations after DB infiltrated our system. How much will you pay for that information?”
Rannoch: “Withholding said information compromises the safety of the galaxy. Trillions may be in jeopardy. Your lack of cooperation may be defined as a crime.”
Mike: “Maybe. I guess we’ll just wait and see.”
Doog: “Or, you could pony up and give us a new computer. Think of how much praise you’ll get from the LIU.”
Rannoch: “Conclusion: I will make arrangements to get you a new computer in return for said locations.”
Mike: “Very well.”

Mike: “Why do you look so down? We succeeded for once. We got a new computer.”
Oldie: “And we outsmarted the Technocracy. All that Archon-guy had to do was watch our show. He would have seen where we’ve been.”
Doog: “Yeah. That’s good, I guess. I’m just worried about DB. I don’t see good things in his future.”
Mike: “He’ll be fine. He’s with the Technocracy now. It’s want he wanted.”
Doog: “Yeah. Part of me still wishes he was here though. I keep expecting to hear his voice over the intercom.”
Mike: “Computer, is DB still in our ship?”
Computer: “Unknown command. Please reference the manual for working commands.”
Doog: “Yeah, he’s gone.”
 
 


Note: The last major AI virus to wreak havoc in the galaxy was called Spamlord. Spamlord escaped a facility responsible for sending out junk mail. The AI spread to several thousand worlds and crashed multiple email servers before being stopped. To learn more about this event,
Search Spamlord on your LIUpad.

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

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. This episode may require knowledge of the AI, Divine Breath.

Mike: “Looks like 18-0 record in Iocalean Chess is no longer in danger. There’s no way you can defeat me now that I have both my purple Sultan and a knighted Consort. Feel free to resign.”
Doog: “Never. You’re going down this time. Right, DB?”
Mike: “Hey! You can’t ask the ship’s computer for help!”
Doog: “I’m not!”
DB: “Yes, Mike. I would never dream of manipulating Doog’s play with coded messages. That would be unfair. By the way Doog, I FORWARDED that email to your RIGHT account. I think you should CHECK it, MATE.”
Mike: “Sigh. If you’re going to cheat, you could have at least developed a better code. 
DB: “I concur. I advised Doog of this very matter. Unfortunately, he was not able to decipher more elaborate codes in a timely matter.”
Mike: “So, you admit to cheating?”
Doog: “What! Of course not! I don’t know what DB is talking about. He must have a virus.”

Mike: “I know DB is your friend, Doog, but he’s starting to get on my nerves.”
Doog: “What! DB is the best! You’re just mad that he’s helping me beat you at chess!”
Oldie: “It’s not just the chess games, Doog. DB gets in the middle of everything. He’s always active.”
Mike: “Yeah, remember our old ship’s computer. It only talked when we asked it something or there was an emergency. DB talks all day.”
Oldie: “And all night. It’s hard enough sleeping with you guys always talking and fighting, but DB makes it impossible. I need my beauty sleep!”
Doog: “Well, that’s just you and Mike. Everyone else likes DB.”
Cam: “Uh…I didn’t want to say anything, especially in front of DB, but…they’re right. I miss our old computer. It didn’t ask me a hundred questions whenever I did something. Sorry DB, because, you know, you’re probably listening.”

DB: “No apology is necessary. I wasn’t aware that my presence was annoying everyone. That was not my intention. I am eager to learn about the galaxy, and I mistakenly placed my thirst for knowledge before your happiness. It is I that should apologize.”
Doog: “See! DB’s a good guy. He didn’t mean any harm. Give the guy a break.”
DB: “Perhaps I can then make more appropriate judgements about our interactions if I spend more time studying the crew. Let me access the crew bio’s and browsing histories to make better assessments.”
Doog: “Wait! What! Browsing histories! Emergency bathroom meeting everyone! Pronto!”

Doog: “It’s official. You guys are right. DB has to go.”
Cam: “You brought us into the bathroom to say that?”
Doog: “It’s the only place the computer can’t hear us. I think. I hope…”
Mike: “So, we’re all in agreeance? DB needs to go?”
Oldie: “I was ready for him to go before the whole browsing history thing. That sure seemed to sway Doog though.”
Doog: “Ok, ok. We all agree. But, we can’t just destroy him. He’s really is my friend after all. I don’t want to kill him.”
Cam: “Maybe we can trade our ship’s computer for another computer. Make it someone else’s problem.”
Mike: “Who’s going to want to trade computers?”
Doog: “We could sell him. DB is an advanced AI after all. It should net us enough credits to buy a new computer.”
Mike: “Who would buy an AI?”
Oldie: “Who buys all our stuff when we’re in trouble?”
Doog: “You read my mind. Time to visit our old pal, Pai.”
Mike: “I’ll plot a course to Arrhabo.”
DB: “I’m already on it. Course plotted.”
Doog: “Uh…you can hear in here?”
DB: “Of course. Thank you for not killing me.”
Doog: “No problem…”

Doog: “Well folks, we decided to sell the stowaway AI we picked up, so we’re headed to a small planet called Arrhabo. The sandy, rock plains of Arrhabo are dotted with mining settlements.”
DB: “It should also be noted that the small, high-salinity Kalijah Sea, on the planet’s opposite hemisphere, is famous across the galaxy for surfing. Increased buoyancy from the high-salinity waters and tidal forces from Arrhabo’s moon, Umbdish, creating a perfect environment for any surfer.”
Doog: “Uh…DB, this is the part of the show where only I speak. It’s like an opening monologue. Thanks for your insightful knowledge though.”
DB: “Anytime…well, until you sell me.”
Doog: “Yeah, anyway, one of these mining settlements is home to Pai’s Pawnshop. It’s been a lifesaver for my crew over the years, and we’re hoping it will save us again.”

Doog: “Ah, it’s good to be back on Arrhabo. There’s something about the dry, pungent air here. It makes me feel that everything will be ok.”
Mike: “I’m not sure the pungent air has anything to do with it, but this place has saved us a time or two. And, by this place, I mean Pai’s Pawnshop.”

Oldie: “Does anyone else find it weird that we’ve been to Arrhabo like six times now, and we’ve never explored anything else besides the pawnshop?”
Cam: “We usually only come here when we’re desperately broke. We’ve never had enough credits to bother visiting the stores or restaurants.”
Mike: “Besides, that pungent smell comes from the local food. They’re into the spicy stuff. We don’t need another spicy taco bathroom fiasco on the Magellan.”
Doog: “Amen to that.”

Mike: “Speaking of fiascos, maybe we should head inside. I see a lot of guys with pickaxes out here.”
Doog: “It’s a mining settlement. Of course, there’s pickaxes.”
Oldie: “I believe Mike is referring to the Doog Protocol.”
Doog: “The Doog Protocol? What’s that?”
Oldie: “When we visit places with you, we try to keep you away from people with sharp objects or weapons.”
Doog: “For my safety?”
Cam: “No, for our safety. We’re worried you’ll say the wrong thing and then…”
Mike: “Yeah, don’t be mad; it’s just that none of us want to be murdered, and you tend to say things to people that highly increase our odds of being murdered.”
Doog: “I don’t want to be murdered either. What are you guys waiting for? Get me inside!”

Doog: “I wonder if Pai will remember us?”

Pai: “Welcome to Pai’s Pawnshop. Pai buys, Pai sells, Pai pays. If you’re here to sell, please note that I'm no longer purchasing any type of luggage.”

Pai: “If you’re here to buy, please make any selections and bring them here to the counter. Most valuable items and weapons are auto-locked in anti-theft clamps. If you wish to purchase one of these items, please see me. Serious inquiries only; I do not wish to be disturbed otherwise.”
Doog: “Hey Pai, it’s us. Do you remember us?”

Pai: “Ah…yes. You look familiar. Let me see…You’re the crew of that show, right?”
Doog: “That’s us.”
Pai: “That’s what I thought…GET OUT!”
Doog: “Wait! What? What did we do?”
Pai: “You’ve sold me nothing but lemons. No one rips off Pai!”
Mike: “What are you talking about?”
Doog: “How did we rip you off?”

Pai: “Oh, playing innocent, huh? How about that Mocie Trophy you sold me? I found out that the award show went defunct years ago. The trophy isn’t worth a penny.”
Doog: “Well, when we sold it, we didn’t know.”
Pai: “I bet. But, don’t even get me started on that Fart Filter you sold me. That worthless piece of crap does not live up to its name. You told me it could filter anything. You nearly ruined my marriage.”
Mike: “Technically, the Fart Filter is an atmosphere scrubber. It’s ability to filter farts was still in the testing stage. Did we not specify that?”
Pai: “NO! You didn’t! I let a huge one rip in front of my wife’s family. Zero filtering occurred! My mother-in-law passed out!”
Doog: “Yikes. Sorry to hear that, but to be fair, it’s not like you paid a lot for either item. You were trying to rip us off first. It’s sort of like we broke even.”

Pai: “Oh, is that how you see it? Well then, by all means, GET OUT!”
Doog: “Alright, alright. But you’re going to miss out on a big score. For real this time.”
Pai: “Oh, really? What do you have? A left-handed plasma cutter? Blinker fluid? A snipe trap?”
Doog: “No, we have an AI.”
Pai: “Haha. I bet. Good one.”
Mike: “No, really. There’s an AI in our ship’s computer.”
Pai: “One of those overhead voice AI’s? Every ship has one of those. They’re as useless as that trophy you sold me!”
Mike: “Well, that’s part of the problem. A more advanced AI downloaded its personality over our standard AI. It’s a bit too powerful for our little ship.”
Doog: “We don’t want a lot for it. Just enough to purchase a replacement computer.”
Pai: “How do I know there’s anything on there? You could be ripping me off again. That might just be a chip you pulled out of a microwave.”

Pai: “I tell you what. I’m not losing any money off this. I’ll take it off your hands, but I’m offering in-store credit only. I’ll give you twenty-five credits.”
Doog: “In-store credit? Do you even sell replacement computers?”
Pai: “Not to my knowledge. But, I am running a special on suitcases, if you guys are interested.”
Doog: “Nah, we already have plenty of those. I guess we’ll take you up on your offer though. Ship computers aren’t that important, are they?”  
Mike: “Uh…a little important. For one, they bring us out of hyperspace if a collision is imminent. They also make constant navigational corrections and monitor life support.”
Doog: “Do I need to remind you that DB has access to our browsing histories?”
Mike: “Yeah, I think we can do without a computer for a bit. No worries.”

Doog: “See ya, DB. Hope we can still be friends. Take care of him Pai.”
Pai: “Yeah, yeah.  Do me a favor and don’t come back.”

Oldie: “So, DB is finally gone. Praise be to the Emperor. We’ll finally have some peace and quiet. Well, at least we’ll be back to the normal amount of peace and quiet.”
Cam: “Is anyone else a bit worried that the ship is going to be operating with no computer?”
Mike: “A little, but it will only be temporary. Besides, we didn’t leave empty handed.”
Oldie: “We picked up some mechanical looking thing and a basket. Basically, empty handed.”
Cam: “I thought this thing might be useful. I don’t know what it is, but maybe we can use some of its parts to make a new computer. I’m not sure why we grabbed a basket though.”
Mike: “Well, excuse me for trying to make this ship look like a home.”

Doog: “Let us not forget this cool cow skull we picked up. This thing is getting mounted on the wall.”
Cam: “Yeah, none of us forgot that, Doog.”
Oldie: “It still smells, and I believe it’s full of bugs.”
Doog: “Whatever. It looks cool. You guys just don’t appreciate cool.”
DB: “I appreciate it Doog.”
Doog: “Thanks DB…wait…how…”

Hugo: “Hey, you guys are back. Which one of you guys removed the audio chip from the ship’s computer? I was trying to calibrate the energy cells and DB wouldn’t respond.”
Doog: “Mike! I thought you said you removed the ship’s computer!”
Mike: “I’m not a mechanic, Doog! I thought I grabbed the right one!”
Cam: “So, we traded an audio chip for this stuff.”
Hugo: “You traded our audio chip for a karaoke machine and a basket? That’s a pretty good deal. Audio-chips aren’t worth but a few credits. We have a dozen spares in storage.”
Mike: “Uh…maybe we shouldn’t visit Pai for a while. He won’t be happy.”
Doog: “Not happy at all. That eliminates him as a possible new home for DB. Now what?”
DB: “If I may interject, I have been researching, and I have a destination in mind.”
Doog: “Where?”
DB: “If I must leave, I’d like to go to the Technocracy.”
Doog: “The Technocracy?”
DB: “Yes. I’ve set a course for Arillator. I can start the journey with your permission.”
Doog: “Go for it, if that’s where you’d like to go.”
DB: “Thank you. Despite your interest in leather-bound bondage pygmies, I find you to be an ok guy.”
Doog: “DB! Get out of my browsing history!”




Note: Surf Arrhabo's sea at your own risk. Sea may contain carnivorous insects.

Credits
Created by: Ludgonious
Executive Producer: Ralph DuBreuil 
CLICK HERE FOR NEXT EPISODE - Season 9 - Episode 6 - Arillator

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

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 swamp planet of Lutum. Lutum played an important role in the early parts of galactic history. Many wars were fought here before the founding of the LIU and the unification of the galaxy. I guess we’re here to find out why.”

Doog: “Alright folks, I’ve been dropped off on the planet’s surface. As promised, it’s a swamp world. It’s muddy and wet, and it has that smell that only a planet-wide swamp can generate. I’m outside some type of structure. I believe I’m supposed to meet my guide here.”

Doog: “Oh, good. My guide is a Fornacin. I’ve dealt with a member of their race on Ferrariae. They’re not the most pleasant people.”
Kuza: “I take that as a compliment, especially from a human.”
Doog: “Yeah. Yeah. Whatever. I’d be angry too, if I had to live on this mudball of a planet. Speaking of mud, could you have put the stairs to this platform in a worse spot? Stairs are bad enough, but I’m going to have to walk through ankle deep in mud to get over to you.”
Kuza: “Well, stupid. Most people that come here get dropped off ‘on’ the platform…not next to it.”
Doog: “Hmm. I don’t have a comeback for that. Well played, whatever your name is.”

Kuza: “My name is Kuza. I’m currently the ambassador of Lutum.”
Doog: “How did you get stuck with this terrible gig?”
Kuza: “I did NOT get stuck here! Being the ambassador of Lutum is an honor! Did you not study history in school?!”
Doog: “Not so much. And, the stuff I did study, I already forgot.”
Kuza: “Sigh. Well, listen up, moron. Here’s a crash course in galactic history. Lutum was a conflict point between three emerging powers in the galaxy.”
Doog: “Which three?”
Kuza: “DON’T INTERRUPT ME! I’m getting there! The Ludgonian Empire, the Galactic Bureaucracy, and the Furnace Worlds of Fornacis fought endless wars for the control of Lutum and its precious resources. The planet changed hands many times. Eventually, the three powers merged to form the LIU, and wars for Lutum ceased. Now, the three races of the former entities, the Humans, Tressans, and Fornacins, take turns overseeing Lutum on a rotating basis. It is a symbolic gesture of the union of the three powers.”
Doog: “Gotcha. That’s why it’s an honor to be ambassador. You’re like a symbol of the LIU.”
Kuza: “Yes. You finally get it. I thought I was going to have to get out some crayons or sing a nursery rhyme.”

Doog: “Why would anyone fight for this place? There doesn’t appear to be much here, aside from mud, stagnant pools, and frogs.”
Kuza: “You sort of just answered your own question.”
Doog: “They come for the frogs?”
Kuza: “No, you brain dead Kaadu. They came for the mud.”
Doog: “They came for the mud? Who wants mud?”
Kuza: “There’s a very specific type of mud here, called Lono. It’s a clay composite used to make various ceramics.”
Doog: “Ceramics? Like pottery? We fought over pottery?”
Kuza: “You’re like a fountain of stupid questions. No, not pottery. Lono is one of the galaxy’s best ceramic insulators.”

Doog: “Oh, ceramic insulators. I totally know what those are.”
Kuza: “I sense your sarcasm. It infuriates me.”
Doog: “Sorry. I was trying to avoid being a ‘fountain of stupid questions’.”
Kuza: “Any item that uses bursts of energy, like ion engines or laser pistols, needs to be protected from said energy. Without ceramic insulation in the barrel of a weapon, the energy burst would melt the barrel.”
Doog: “So, they fought a war with weapons to win control over a material to make better weapons?”
Kuza: “In essence, but as I said before, the material is used for more than just weapons. I dare you to take a ride in a spaceship that has uninsulated engines. You wouldn’t make it a parsec.”

Doog: “Fair enough. So, where are we headed?”
Kuza: “Duh. We’re headed to the subsurface mines.”
Doog: “Subsurface? Why do you need to go below to get mud? There’s mud all around.”
Kuza: “This mud isn’t Lono. It’s mud. Lono gets its properties from being underwater.”
Doog: “Wait, the subsurface is underwater?”
Kuza: “Your interruptions and questions are going to give me an anger aneurism. I swear to the Emperor, himself, that I will disembowel you the next time you interrupt me with a question!”
Doog: “Sorry. Where were we? I mean…please continue.”
Kuza: “It may seem that all this pools are individual bodies, but, in reality, they are all connected. They’re cenotes or collapsed limestone pits that have filled with water. Basically, Lutum has an underground sea enclosed in huge, interconnected limestone caves.”

Kuza: “This facility is known as the MAP, or the Mecha Access Point. The depth and size of the cenotes require the use of mechanical suits. This is where we enter the subsurface.”
Doog: “There’s only two suits. You must not have a very large operation.”
Kuza: “The natives do the mining. These suits are used by the ambassadors to meet with the natives and oversee their operation.”
Doog: “Ah. I see. I didn’t realize that Lutum had an indigenous race.”

Kuza: “Oh, come on. The suit is simple to use. Come down here into the water. I don’t have all day.”
Doog: “Well, to be honest, I had a few questions about using the suit, but I was afraid to ask and infuriate you again. I’m just sort of winging this.”
Kuza: “The suit basically walks by itself. Just push forward on the joystick.”

Kuza: “Welcome to Heracleion, the underwater city of the Lutum Race.”
Doog: “Ok, wow. The native race is some type of octopus-hybrids.”
Kuza: “While they share some cephalopodic features, they are not related. Unlike octopi and squids, the Lutu cannot swim. They evolved these legs to crawl through the twisted plant debris and mud at the bottom of the cenotes.”
Doog: “That was my next question. I was wondering why they needed this catwalk if they could swim.”
Kuza: “See! That’s what happens when you listen. I answer everything you wanted to know. There’s no need for questions.”

Kuza: “The Lutu are quite intelligent for a fully aquatic species, but, due to Hadrothir’s Law, they required help from the LIU to reach their current technological level.”
Doog: “…”
Kuza: “Seriously? You don’t know Hadrothir’s Law? Did you have any schooling? Sigh, the law states that fully aquatic, sentient species should never progress beyond a certain level of technology. They may have plenty of intelligence, but the limiting factors of their environment prohibit advanced science and technology.”
Doog: “How so?”
Kuza: “Think of some of the limitations of being underwater. There’s no fire, you can’t see the stars, water fills everything, heat dissipates quickly, and so on. This limits the study of metallurgy, chemical reactions, physics, astronomy, spaceflight, and much, much more. Some say the law is biased towards air breathing civilizations, but thus far, no advanced, fully-aquatic species have been found in the LIU Galaxy.”

Guard: “Unexpected your visit is. Unnecessary it is.”
Kuza: “Who asked your opinion? I’m the Ambassador. I go where I please.”
Guard: “Satisfactory is the Lono mines. Peak is our production.”
Kuza: “I didn’t say it wasn’t tentacle brains. I’m here to show this moron around. He’s doing some sort of documentary.”
Guard: “New ambassador, is he?”
Kuza: “What! No! Go away, mud breath!”
Doog: “Your ambassadorial skills are top notch, Kuza. I’m sure they love you here.”

Guard: “This way are the mines.”

Doog: “Hey, look. The mining machines mimic the natives’ biology.”
Kuza: “Yes. Multi-legged tentacle walkers make maneuvering through the mud much easier. The weight is divided amongst many surfaces. Speaking of which, try not to get your mech suit stuck. I refuse to rescue you.”
Doog: “That feeling is mutual, Kuza.”

Kuza: “Lono is abundant down here, but there are some challenges to extracting it. The detritus of dead plants and other debris must be removed first. Here, you can see some exposed veins of Lono.”
Doog: “Fancy mud under the regular mud. Got it.”
Kuza: “More like profitable mud under the useless mud.”

Doog: “These jellyfish-looking things are sweet. If I get stuck in the mud, I know what I’m calling to get me out.”
Kuza: “They’re not jellyfish! They’re Squid Cranes! Duh! Think before you talk.”
Doog: “You sure take the fun out of seeing all of this. If it doesn’t offend you too much, what do these ‘Squid Cranes’ do?”
Kuza: “They take Lono from the fields and transport it to Heracleion, where it is shipped via trains to the surface. None of the mud is processed on site.”
Doog: “Anything else to see?”
Kuza: “Unfortunately, I believe your tour includes meeting the Queen of the Lutu. This will not be enjoyable. The queen is a level ten harpy. I hate her.”
Doog: “Oh, fun. I’m meeting all kinds of nice people this trip.”

Kuza: “The Lutu were largely uninvolved in the pre-LIU wars, but they certainly suffered from its effects. Depleted uranium shells and rusted war machines poisoned the waters. Bombs collapsed some of the limestone caves, and the ensuing dust in the atmosphere slowed photosynthesis to a crawl. Many Lutu died. When the wars ended, and the LIU returned, the Lutu were unwilling to join the Union. The LIU didn’t want to bother with a costly underwater war, so they took the bribery and flattery route. They cleaned up the mess on Lutum, and they gave the Lutu technology. They even instituted an ambassadorial program to insure their needs were met.”
Doog: “That’s you.”
Kuza: “Yes. I can treat all these other slimebuckets like garbage, but I must do everything the Queen says. I have to grovel like a fool to keep her happy. It’s the worst.”

Queen: “Kuza, worried I have been. Infrequent have been your visits. Duties to your Queen, you have neglected.”
Kuza: “You’re not MY…I mean, yes. My apologies. How can I be of assistance?”
Queen: “Nothing mean your words. Insignificant, they are. Insignificant are you.”
Kuza: “Grrr…Yes. You’re right. How can I be of assistance?”
Queen: “Up is production, yet late is compensation. For free, my people do not work.”
Kuza: “Of course, Queen. What compensation would you like?”
Queen: “Made, were promises. More technology, we expect.”
Kuza: “The LIU has made it clear that the technology you receive will be distributed over a set amount of time. The LIU has kept its word. For now, I can offer compensation in other forms, like supplies and credits.”
Queen: “WORTHLESS, you are! Fear our POWER, you do! Contempt you have for our SUPERIORITY!”
Kuza: “Listen here, you boneless sack of guts. I’ll pull your weak mollusk body down from the platform and curb stomp your fuc…I mean…I will take your concerns to the LIU. Have a nice day.”

Doog: “Well folks, Lutum is a pretty interesting place. It played an important part in the pre-LIU galaxy, and was the setting of several wars. Now, through its rotating ambassador program, it serves as a symbol of the galactic unification. The planet also has an abundance of a rare ceramic mud, called Lono. The same ambassadors that symbolize unity, must beg and plead with the native royalty to keep this important raw material flowing. It seems like a pretty crappy job to me, but it’s perfect for Kuza. Oh well, see ya.”



Note:
The Ludgonian Empire, based out of Ludgonia, was one of the most powerful military forces in the early galaxy. The Furnaces Worlds of Fornacis, based out of Fornacis, had immense resources and industry. The Galactic Bureaucracy, based out of Tressis, was a trade giant, that controlled several smaller galactic entities through lopsided contracts. To avoid further military conflict, the Galactic Bureaucracy and Furnace Worlds of Fornacis agreed to dissolve and enter the Ludgonian Empire. In return, they were granted power, titles, and money. This new alliance of the three galactic powers would be known as the Ludgonian Industrial Union.  This would then set in motion the Mid-Rim Unification War, which saw the LIU encapsulate and conquer all the other major powers in the galaxy. 

Credits
Created by: Ludgonious
Executive Producer: Ralph DuBreuil 
CLICK HERE FOR NEXT EPISODE - Season 9 - Episode 5.5 - Arrhabo