Doog: “Welcome to another episode of LIU Atlas. I’m your host, Terrance “Doog” McDoogal. Today, we’re visiting the gas giant, Umerus. Umerus is a mid-sized gas planet composed mostly of hydrogen and helium. Its orangish red coloration comes from trace amounts of ammonia, iron, and hydrocarbons in the upper atmosphere. Umerus has a habitable layer approximately 100 kilometers into its atmosphere where pressure, temperature, and radiation are all standard. This layer is oxygen deprived, so I’ll need a respirator when we head down. Which is now. Let’s go.”

Doog: “Obviously, the surface is not habitable on Umerus. You’d be crushed by atmospheric pressure way before you got there. Instead, settlers on Umerus live in little floating villages, called flight docks. This particular ‘flight dock’ is known as Equatorial East Stream North. It’s a bit of a mouthful.”

Klorha: “That’s not its name, idiot. That’s its location. This flight dock drifts on the planet’s northern equatorial stream, in an easterly direction.”
Doog: “Name, location…same difference.”
Klorha: “We’ll send help. Where are you sir? I’m at Doog. See, dummy, not that same.”
Doog: “Alright mister, cool it with the name calling. And, how did you know my name?”
Klorha: “I’m Klorha, the super-excited guy that gets to spend all day showing you around Umerus. How lucky of me!”
Doog: “I sense sarcasm there.”
Klorha: “Do you? I wasn’t sure if I laid it down thick enough. You can’t be sure when there’s nitwits on the receiving end.”
Doog: “Another tour with a Fornacin. I guess it’s my lucky day too…”

Doog: “So, you live here, on this flight dock?”
Klorha: “Of course not. There are few permanent residents here. Think of these docks as trading posts. You anchor your hoverboat here, unload your wares, and maybe grab some supplies.”
Doog: “Where do you live then? On your boat?”
Klorha: “Yes. Although, on occasion, I splurge and rent a room.”
Doog: “These flight docks have hotels too?”
Klorha: “Yeah. It’s the big building over there. Oh wait, names and locations are the same to you. It’s the building over Thomas, next to Brenda.”
Doog: “Alright, alright. You got me there. You mentioned unloading wares. May I ask what type of wares?”
Klorha: “Paratin Spice harvested from Umerusan flowers on Floating Gardenbacks.”
Doog: “What?”
Klorha: “Exactly. Maybe you should wait until we get to that part of the tour. It’s easier to understand when you see it in action. A halfwit, like you, needs all the help he can get. Let’s get on my boat.”

Doog: “Your boat seems to be lacking handrails on its loading ramp.”
Klorha: “It’s three steps. A real man doesn’t need handrails.”
Doog: “It’s three steps on a horizontal ladder. I need handrails. I’m not falling into the crushing depths.”
Klorha: “You’re too fat to fall between the rungs.”
Doog: “Indeed. But...what if I fall, do the splits, rack myself on one of the rungs, and then tip over and fall off the ladder.”
Klorha: “I would laugh myself to tears as your screams faded away into the depths.”
Doog: “Wow. Thanks, Klorha.”
Klorha: “Seriously, though, do you need help? I’m pretty sure I can muster a strong enough kick to get you across in the air, bypassing the ladder. Let me get some leverage…”
Doog: “I’m going! I’m going!”

Doog: “Alright folks, I’ve boarded Klorha’s hoverboat. We’ve departed Northeast West Wind Station or whatever that place was called. We’re now gliding through the gas planet’s atmosphere. We’re riding the cloud tops. Sailing the skies. Cruising the…
Klorha: “We’re using repulsor technology to ride the planet’s magnetic fields. Stop trying to make it sound all poetic and stuff.”
Doog: “That too. So, I see some fishing equipment onboard. Are we doing some sky fishing? I’ve done that before.”
Klorha: “No, nothing like that. Not really, anyway. Times have changed.”
Doog: “So, you used to sky fish?”
Klorha: “My forebearers did. Newer technology did away with the fishing portion of my job.”
Doog: “How so?”

Klorha: “Fancy probes, like this one here, track all the planet’s Gardenbacks. We know where they all are. GPS gets you to them. Geotagging tells you if they’ve been harvested yet. In the olden days, you had to drag lines for days until you snagged one.”
Doog: “You keep mentioning these Gardenbacks? What are they? Are they the ‘fish’ you harvest?”
Klorha: “You’ll see soon. We’re approaching some now.”

Doog: “Whoa. Those are Gardenbacks?”
Klorha: “Yes, dorkface. Look at them. They’re creatures with gardens growing on their backs.”
Doog: “I see that. Makes sense. Well, actually it doesn’t. Why? How? Why again?”
Klorha: “Gardenbacks are your standard gas-planet floaters. They store warm, light gasses in their bodies. It keeps them buoyant. They use their little tentacles to make some minor flightpath adjustments, but they mostly just float wherever the winds take them.”
Doog: “What do they eat?”
Klorha: “Macroscopic bacteria, called Twill. Twill also blows around in the winds.”
Doog: “That settles what a Gardenback is. Why do they have gardens on their backs, though?”
Klorha: “Their backs have lots of surface area that is always facing towards the planet’s sun. Some macroscopic bacteria found it easier to survive on this surface. Over millions of years, these bacteria evolved into more complex mosses and flowering plants. The Gardenbacks have co-evolved as well. Their backs got larger and flatter to hold more plant-life.”
Doog: “Why would having those features be better?”
Klorha: “Plant growth insulates their backs in darker colors. These darker colors absorb more heat and help hold heat in. More heat means the Gardenback can float higher and find more Twill.”
Doog: “Win-win scenario.”

Klorha: “Win-win-win scenario. It’s good for us too. Some of these plants are useful and valuable.”
Doog: “Whoa, whoa. Are you getting on its back?”
Klorha: “Well, yeah. These flowers are going to pick themselves, dummy.”
Doog: “Uh, you can get all the flowers you want. I’ll stay here.”
Klorha: “It’s perfectly stable, sissy. Get down here.”
Doog: “It’s not so much my fear of the creature, I just don’t know how many times I want to risk this handrail-free ramp.”
Klorha: “Do I need to return to my ship for a kick? I’ll do it. I swear.”

Doog: “I’m on the back. Happy now?”
Klorha: “Now that you mention it…no. I was hoping the fall into the abyss scenario came to fruition. Disappointed better describes my emotional state.”
Doog: “You still have hope, Klorha. I have to get back on the boat eventually, and I’ll have to get off it too. You still have two chances.”
Klorha: “You’ve lifted my spirits.”
Doog: “Good. Now…what are we doing here again?”
Klorha: “Harvesting flowers for spice.”
Doog: “Drug spice or flavor spice?”
Klorha: “Flavor.”
Doog: “Less exciting, but I’m fine with it. I like food.”

Klorha: “There are several species of flowers on a Gardenback, but we’re primarily interested in Umerusan Spice flowers. They’re the bright magenta ones, like this.”
Doog: “What part becomes the spice? Petals, stem, roots?”
Klorha: “The stigma.”
Doog: “The what?”
Klorha: “The stigma. It’s part of the reproductive anatomy of the plant that’s located within the flower. Wait…that might be too complicated. Stigma is sex parts.”
Doog: “Got it without the condescending summation. And the stigma makes what spice?”
Klorha: “Paratin.”
Doog: “Never heard of it.”
Klorha: “Not surprising. It’s a bold, savory spice. It adds some kick to meaty dishes. Probably too strong for someone with your dainty vegetarian tastes.”
Doog: “Hey! I can take being called stupid all day, but never call me the V-word! My favorite food group is tacos!”
Klorha: “Fair enough. I can see by your body type that I was mistaken. One does not achieve that form by solely eating plants.”
Doog: “Apology accepted…I think.”

Doog: “I can’t believe I’ve never heard of a meat enhancing spice. It must be rare.”
Klorha: “It is far from rare. Umerus is a big planet. There are billions of Gardenbacks and trillions of flowers. Paratin is widely available across the galaxy.”
Doog: “I wonder why I’ve never heard of it then.”
Klorha: “Paratin has a short shelf-life, especially after being exposed to oxygen. Its life is extended by shipping it in vacuum sealed containers, but, once it’s opened, you have limited time to use it. You won’t find it in processed or prepackaged foods.”
Doog: “That would be why I never heard of it. That’s basically all I eat.”
Klorha: “Again, your body type conveys that statement as truth.”
Doog: “Is this tour over yet?”
Klorha: “Nearly. There’s just one more thing to see…the future of Paratin farming.”

Klorha: “Umerusan Spice Flowers are notoriously hard to grow in artificial environments. They won’t even grow on floating platforms in Umerus’ atmosphere. They will only grow on Gardenbacks.”
Doog: “Not a big deal, right? You said there were billions of Gardenbacks.”
Klorha: “Yes, but the current method is not efficient. Gardenbacks can’t be tamed. They float off wherever they want. That means large amount of labor goes into locating and harvesting Gardenbacks. If the production could remain more stationary, then it would be more efficient.”
Doog: “How does one make a living creature stationary? Chain it to a pole? Make a Gardenback jail?”
Klorha: “You kill it.”
Doog: “Kill it?!”
Klorha: “Gardenback tissue retains its buoyancy even after death. If the right preservatives are used, the Gardenback can remain a viable platform for a few decades. Umeran Spice Flowers will still grow, and no one will have to go far to harvest them.”

Doog: “Wait! Is that a dead one right there?”
Klorha: “Yes. This method is being tested at the moment. They only use Gardenbacks that have succumbed to a natural death.”
Doog: “What’s with the scaffolding and building on its back?”
Klorha: “Stationary Gardenbacks must be able to support structures on its back for workers, preservation facilities, and steering equipment.”
Doog: “Steering equipment?”
Klorha: “A brain-jack connects the Gardenback’s nervous system to a steering rig. Pilots can then use the creature’s own propulsion systems to maneuver. It is used to keep the Gardenback’s movements in check.”
Doog: “It keeps it stationary.”
Klorha: “Close to it.”
Doog: “That’s creepy. People living on a dead organism.”
Klorha: “Creepy, but probably the future of Umerus. Imagine dozens of dead Gardenbacks strung together, floating lifelessly near a flight dock.”
Doog: “Oh, the things we do for more savory meats.”
Klorha: “Their sacrifice is not in vain.”

Doog: “Well folks, Umerus is gas planet with an abundance of life. There are macroscopic bacteria called Twill, massive floating creatures called Gardenbacks, and a variety of plant life. One such plant, the Umerusan Spice Flower, is used to make the spice, Paratin. This quickly spoiling spice is only found in fresh food, but I’m told it can be quite delicious. I might try it soon before it starts to be grown on dead things! Oh well, see ya!”
 
Note: Gardenbacks will be euthanized with brain core incisions, leaving the body intact. This will also allow for easier brain-jack connections.

Doog: “Welcome to another episode of LIU Atlas. I’m your host, Terrance “Doog” McDoogal. Today, at the recommendation of our Associate Producer, we’re visiting Formidabant, another planet within the Grex Cluster. Formidabant is a wet, humid world that is mostly covered in swamps. It’s sure to be terrible, like most swampy worlds. Let’s head down and get this over with.”

Doog: “Alright, I’ve been dropped off in a small settlement on the planet’s surface. Immediately upon exiting my ship, my senses are assaulted by all the typical swamp-world characteristics. It smells like rotten vegetation, and there’s an orchestra of chirping bugs. Let’s hurry up and find my guide. I want to get off this planet as soon as possible.”

Amaya: “Don’t look too hard. I’m already here.”
Doog: “I know you’re new to this, but this is the part of the job where we only need the filming crew. Associated Producers should stay on the ship with the other non-essential personnel.”
Amaya: “I know how the show works, Doog. But, we couldn’t come up with another guide on such short notice. There’s almost no off-worlders here, and the natives don’t speak basic. So, unless you want to deal with the reptilian natives on your own, you’re stuck with me.”
Doog: “I’m not sure how being with you will make it any easier.”
Amaya: “The natives speak Presciant, so I can communicate with them.”
Doog: “Well, what are we waiting for then? It’s not smelling any better the longer we stand here.”

Amaya: “Don’t you just love marshes? There’s such a variety of plants and animals.”
Doog: “There’s stinky, stagnant pools of water covered in scum and an abundance of gnats. No, I don’t like swamps.”
Amaya: “This area is a marsh, not a swamp. Swamps have woody plants, like trees.”
Doog: “Well, Ms. Dictionary, I don’t like marshes either.”
Amaya: “To each his own, I suppose. I find the Dread Marshes beautiful.”
Doog: “Wait, did you just say ‘Dread Marshes’?”
Amaya: “Yeah, that’s what they named it.”
Doog: “Isn’t that bit unsettling? Why is it called ‘dread’? Is there something I need to know about this place?”
Amaya: “I don’t think it means anything. It’s probably just a translation error.”

Doog: “I don’t know. The natives look sort of dreadful. The little lizards could be dangerous too.”
Amaya: “Those little things are perfectly safe. They’re often kept as pets on Bulla. They only eat bugs.”
Doog: “I see you avoided talking about the natives.”
Amaya: “I’m not too knowledgeable on the natives. From what I’ve heard, they’re not too bad.”
Doog: “So, you’ve never met one?”
Amaya: “No, I was always forbidden to visit Formidabant. It’s they only inhabitable world within the cluster that I’ve never visited.”
Doog: “Maybe it is because Formidabant is home to the DREAD MARSHES! What have you gotten us into?!”

Amaya: “Quit freaking out. Formidabant can’t be that bad. My family has been exporting goods from here for decades without any issues.”
Doog: “What kind of dreadful goods are we talking about?”
Amaya: “Formidabant is famous for its abundance of medicinal herbs.”
Doog: “Sounds like hippy medicine.”
Amaya: “Far from it. The medicinal qualities of Formidabant’s plants are indisputable. There’s a variety of them too.”
Doog: “I’ll believe it when I see it.”
Amaya: “Well, be prepared to have your mind changed. Let’s head into the apothecary.”
Doog: “What’s that?”

Amaya: “An apothecary is essentially a pharmacy. Here, they prepare and sell herbal medicines.”
Doog: “This stuff is medicine? It’s mostly dried up leaves and tree bark. They have stuff like this at my childhood park. I never knew I was playing in a field of medicine.”
Amaya: “The plants here are much different, I assure you.”
Doog: “How so?”
Amaya: “I’m not an expert, by any means, but I believe most of the plants here have chemical defenses to combat insect predation. These various chemicals give the plants their medicinal qualities.”
Doog: “Natural bug poison becomes medicine?”
Amaya: “Is it that hard to believe? Numerous drugs from across the galaxy are derived from antiherbivore chemicals; nicotine, caffeine, and morphine are a few examples.”
Doog: “Ooh, do we have any Formidabant style morphine in here?”
Amaya: “Not that I see.”

Apothecary: “Chii chaunoda?”
Amaya: “Bhuruu.”
Apothecary: “Kwete bhuruu. Kwete ikozvino. Tsvaka mhepo.”
Doog: “What’s going on?”
Amaya: “I’m looking for a particular type of herbal medicine, called Bhuruu.”
Doog: “Is that the morphine-like one?”
Amaya: “Sort of. Unfortunately, it doesn’t look like they have any in stock right now. We’ll have to head out into the marsh to find some.”
Doog: “Wait, are we seriously trying to get some? Are we doing a show or shopping?”
Amaya: “Both. If we can score some Bhuruu while touring Formidabant, we’ll be able to sell it on the next major world we visit. We profit from the show and the Bhuruu.”
Doog: “Or, we could…maybe…try some of this Bhuruu for cultural purposes.”
Amaya: “That probably not a great idea. Bhuruu can be addictive. Besides, we don’t want to cut into our profits.” 

Amaya: “Speaking of profits, we’re going to need to hire a tracker. It won’t be cheap.”
Doog: “How about this guy? He has a big machete. That would ease my nerves as we venture through the DREAD MARSH!”
Amaya: “You still hung up on that? Iwe uchatipinza isu mumvura?”
Tracker: “Iwe unofanirwa kuripa chikwereti zana.”
Amaya: “Ndiyo mutengo mukuru. Ini ndichabhadhara chete kana tikawana bhuruu.”
Tracker: “Ndinogona kuvimbisa izvozvo. Handigoni kuvimbisa kuchengetedza kwako.”
Amaya: “Looks like we have a tracker.”

Doog: “Ugh, the ground is squishy. Why couldn’t we stay on the platforms?”
Amaya: “The LIU built little platformed settlements to make trade easier, but the platforms end at the edge of the settlement. If we’re going to experience Formidabant, we’re going to have to get our feet dirty.”
Doog: “Feet, pants, and probably underwear.”
Amaya: “Hopefully we’re not stepping in anything deep enough to reach our underwear.”
Doog: “I’m talking about soiling ourselves when we find out why this is called the Dread Marsh.”
Amaya: “The only thing I’m dreading is hearing you whine about a name all day.”
Doog: “I think it’s a legitimate concern. Things get names for a reason.”

Doog: “So, what does this Bhuruu look like? What are we looking for?”
Amaya: “Most of the medicines on Formidabant come from the leaves, bark, and stems of the planet’s plants. Bhuruu is an exception. Bhuruu is derived from the bulbous roots of Sekuru Grass.”
Doog: “Roots are underground.”
Amaya: “Yep. That’s how roots work.”
Doog: “How are we supposed to see underground roots from above ground?”
Amaya: “We’re not the ones finding Bhuruu. That’s why we have a tracker. The natives can smell these roots from kilometers away.”
Doog: “That would have been good to know. I’ve been straining my neck trying to find this stuff.”
Amaya: “You were looking for like one minute. We literally just left the settlement.”
Doog: “One minute too long.”

Doog: “I’m starting to see more and more trees. Does that mean we’re out of the marsh now?”
Amaya: “Yes. This would be considered swamp.”
Doog: “Thank the Emperor. We survived the Dread Marshes.”
Amaya: “Yeah, now we just have to survive the Dread Swamp.”
Doog: “What! This place too! What’s with the names on this planet?”
Amaya: “Shh. I think we might be in business.”

Doog: “You weren’t kidding when you said bulbous. These roots are huge.”
Amaya: “Not all Sekuru have bulbs this big, though. It takes many years to develop this girth, so only the oldest Sekuru can be harvested. It makes Bhuruu a rare commodity.”
Doog: “Rare means more profits for us.”
Amaya: “It should.”

Amaya: “Finding Sekuru is just half the battle. Extracting the Bhuruu and rendering it safe for use is a complex procedure.”
Doog: “So, it’s not safe straight out of the ground?”
Amaya: “Not at all. Bhuruu isn’t the only antiherbivore chemical in the bulb. Some of the others are extremely poisonous.”
Doog: “That’s not good.”
Amaya: “Little processing camps, like this, are positioned around major settlements. They alter the Bhuruu out here so the settlement remains safe.”

Doog: “It looks like their handling more than Sekuru. What are those green things?”
Amaya: “Those are Ambuya, a type of water grass. They’re also poisonous before being processed.”
Doog: “Should we grab some of them too?”
Amaya: “The grass of the Ambuya is used to make anti-diarrheal pills. There’s no profit there. There’s too many alternative anti-diarrheal medicines.”
Doog: “Forget the profit. Have you ever been on the ship after taco night? That might come in handy.”
Amaya: “Uh…maybe we’ll stop back at the apothecary and grab some on our way back.”

Amaya: “Most of the herbal medicines produced on Formidabant are prepared similarly. Usually, it consists of drying out the plant, grinding it into a powder, and shaping it into a pill. Bhuruu can’t be prepared in that manner.”
Doog: “Because it’s poisonous, right?”
Amaya: “Yes. But there’s other reasons too.”
Doog: “Like what?”
Amaya: “Bhuruu is an essential oil. You can’t get it from just grinding up leaves or grass. It must be pressed from the Sekuru root.”
Doog: “Wait, essential oils? Are we talking about those aromatherapy oils? The other stuff might be real medicine, but that aromatherapy stuff is definitely hippy medicine.”
Amaya: “There are, admittedly, some bogus essential oils, but Bhuruu is not one of them.”
Doog: “How can smelling something cure an illness or be like morphine? Emphasis on the latter.”

​Amaya: “Smells can elicit brain activity. When you smell good food, you might feel hunger or have your stomach growl. Some smells, like smoke or decay, can cause a fear response. Some smells, like the cologne of your absent lover, can provoke emotional responses.”
Doog: “Some smells cause hatred, like this swamp smell.”
Amaya: “So, we are in agreeance, then? Smells can change emotions, and therefore biochemistry.”
Doog: “I guess. But, even the best burger smell in the universe can’t incite morphine-like feelings in me.”
Amaya: “Maybe not, but Bhuruu can. The aroma produced when Bhuruu Oil is heated triggers the body produce endorphins. Endorphins alleviate pain and cause mild euphoria.”
Doog: “Well that’s amazing. Why are we not constantly smelling this stuff?”
Amaya: “Even though Endorphins are naturally produced, they share properties with other brain altering drugs. Addiction is likely, and withdrawal can be deadly. Remember, Bhuruu is in limited supply and cannot sustain an addiction.”

Doog: “Awesome, we got a whole cart full of this stuff. We’re going to be rich.”
Amaya: “Only four vials, but each one should fetch a thousand credits on the right world.”
Doog: “We’re wheeling four thousand credits behind us?!”
Amaya: “Don’t get too excited. They’re not giving us the Bhuruu for free. I’ll need to buy it from them first. I can probably get them all for two thousand credits.”
Doog: “That’s still two thousand more credits than we had!”
Amaya: “We’ll have to divvy up the profits accordingly, though.”
Doog: “What do you mean? There’s two of us. It’s clearly a 50/50 situation.”
Amaya: “Well, I’m fronting the money, so it’s only fair that I get half of the profits. But I think the other half should be divided up by the rest of the crew.”
Doog: “What! Why should I share with them? I’m the guy risking the Dread Marshes!”
Amaya: “Are we doing the dread-thing again?”
Doog: “OK, fine. The marsh isn’t actually dreadful. It’s probably just a stupid name.”

Creature: “Muuhhhrrr!”
Tracker: “Ngozi! Ngozi!”
Doog: “What the heck is that! What’s going on!?”
Amaya: “The natives are screaming ‘danger’. That’s all I know!”
Doog: “I think we got our answer regarding the Dread Marsh! Run!”
Amaya: “Dread Swamp! But that’s an argument for another time!”

Doog: “I might have soiled myself after a terror induced spasm. That smell is not eliciting any euphoria, let me tell you.”
Amaya: “Oh gross!”

Doog: “Well folks, the Dread Swamp is aptly named. There are massive carnivorous worms living in many of the deeper pools. Looks like we lucked out this time. Speaking of luck, we still scored four vials of Bhuruu. Bhuruu is an essential oil that alleviates pain and causes euphoria when it is smelled. It is one of many herbal medicines found here on Formidabant. Medicine and worms. That’s Formidabant. See ya!”
 
Note: Undiluted Bhuruu can cause strong endorphin reactions. It is recommended that the Bhuruu be adulterated with other oils. Only 5% to 10% of Bhuruu should be used in any mixture.   

The are billions of stars, millions of planets, but only one man, Terrance McDoogal. And two ships named Magellan.

Doog: “Welcome to another special edition episode of LIU Atlas. I’m your host, Terrance “Doog” McDoogal. Today, we’ll be checking out our new ship, the Magellan Mark II. Yeah, that’s right. We got a new ship. Like its predecessor, the Mk II is a Jaculan-Class Cargo Ship. It’s a much newer model than our previous ship, though, and it has several notable upgrades. One such upgrade is visible from this angle. The Mk II has a much bigger cockpit. Our pilot, Hugo, won’t have to sit alone anymore. There’s room for a co-pilot.”

​Doog: “My favorite upgrade, at least on the ship’s exterior, is the new airlock. Our previous ship lacked this feature, making in-space docking an impossibility. The airlock should allow us access to previously unavailable destinations.”

Doog: “The Magellan and Magellan Mk II have nearly identical propulsion systems. The engines have rarely been a problem for us, so I don’t mind that feature. Alright, that’s enough of the exterior. Let’s see what’s new on the inside.”

Doog: “The Mk II has two decks. This is the main deck. It’s where the living quarters are located.”

Oldie: “We have a table now! Do you guys remember tables? You eat on them.”
Mike: “Yes, Oldie, we remember tables.”
Oldie: “But this a table-table. Not a floor-table.”
Mike: “Indeed, much better. Our food will taste less like dirt and feet now.”

Cam: “Forget the table. Check out these beds. They smell new.”
Doog: “Yeah, and there’s four of them. That’s like triple our old bed count.”
Mike: “Double, not triple.”
Doog: “Who cares about the math? The point is, we have more beds.”
Mike: “Still not enough for our crew of six, though.”
Amaya: “Ahem, don’t you mean seven?”
Mike: “My bad. I keep forgetting you’re here.” 

Doog: “There’s a kitchen opposite of the beds, in between the stairs and airlock. Stairs…did we have to put those in here?”
Amaya: “How else would we get to deck two?”
Doog: “I don’t know…elevators, maybe.”
Amaya: “And lose the under-stair storage? Where else are we putting the Doog Dummy?”

Mike: “I can’t believe you guys are glossing over the fact that we have a kitchen. A kitchen with food.”
Oldie: “Food. Remember food?”
Mike: “Yes, Oldie! We remember food!”

Amaya: “There’s also two smaller rooms on the main deck, under the cockpit.”
Doog: “A bathroom to the right and a utility room to the left.”

​Doog: “The bathroom is pretty basic. It’s definitely a lot cleaner than the old Magellan.”
Amaya: “Let’s try to keep it that way. Maybe we can come up with some sort of chore assignments or cleaning schedule.”
Doog: “Maybe. The bathroom sounds like a good chore for Timbo. Speaking of schedules, we’re going to have to adjust the bathroom schedule, now that you’re here. So much for my regularity.”
Amaya: “Uh…moving on.”

Doog: “The utility room seems to be a bit of a waste. It’s essentially a closet. My spacesuit is in here, and there’s some tools and spare parts.”
Amaya: “Don’t forget the washer and dryer.”
Doog: “Is that what those box thingies are?”
Amaya: “Uh, yeah. You’ve never used a washer and dryer before?”
Doog: “Nope. I usually just toss stuff away after a few wears. Don’t look at me like that, elite girl. I bet you don’t do laundry either.”
Amaya: “I, at least, know what they are, though.”

Amaya: “Up the stairs to Deck #2.”
Doog: “Sigh, if we have to.”

Doog: “Everything is small and cramped up here.”
Amaya: “It was the only way we could fit a second deck in here.”
Doog: “So, what’s up here?”
Amaya: “You haven’t been up here yet?”
Doog: “Nope. And, given the stair situation, this will probably be my last time.”
Amaya: “Fair enough. There are two small rooms up here.”

Amaya: “The first is my bedroom.”
Doog: “So, that’s where the fifth bed is. How come you get your own bed and room? I’m the star of the show, shouldn’t this room be mine?”
Amaya: “I don’t know if you noticed, but I’m a woman on a ship full of guys. I need somewhere private. Besides, would you really want to take the stairs every time you wanted to go to your room?”
Doog: “Didn’t think about the stair thing. I guess it is best if you have it.”

Amaya: “The other room up here is the editing suite.”
Doog: “Timbo’s abode. It’s a good place for him, away from everyone else.”
Amaya: “It’s also where we’ll store filming equipment, so other crew members will be up here as well.”
Doog: “As long as I don’t have to be up here.”

Amaya: “Around the corner we have the fire suppression system and the cockpit.”
Doog: “Yes, let’s store the vital fire fighting system upstairs, where it is useless to me.”
Amaya: “Something tells me you’ll forget your hatred of stairs when everyone is burning alive in a fire.”
Doog: “You underestimate my hatred.”
Amaya: “Really?”
Doog: “Ok, fine. Burning alive slightly worse than stairs.”

Amaya: “Which brings us to the final stop of the tour, the cockpit.”
Doog: “Ooh, this is roomier.”
Amaya: “It might be tight, but it should hold the whole crew in the event of any emergency.”
Doog: “Don’t tell me…the Mk II has the same lifeboat feature as the old ship. The cockpit can detach and fly on its own.”
Amaya: “Yeah, what’s wrong with that?”
Doog: “Oh, you know, A LOT. Hugo here has abandoned us a time or two when things got rough. The feature is not so great when you’re not in the cockpit when it ejects.”
Hugo: “There wasn’t any room in the old cockpit! Besides, I’ve apologized a million times.”
Amaya: “Uh…computer?”
Computer: “Go ahead.”
Amaya: “Lock lifeboat feature. Allow unlock only when three crew members give authorization.”
Computer: “Confirmed.”
Doog: “Nice! I didn’t know you could do that. I wonder what else the computer can do?”
Amaya: “Computer, lock crew member Doog’s permissions to level 1.”
Computer: “Confirmed.”
Doog: “Hey! I want to do stuff too!”
Amaya: “I think it is safer this way.”
Doog: “Computer, lock crew member Timbo in bathroom!”
Computer: “That command is not authorized.”
Doog: “Dang it.”

Amaya: “Now that we have a dual cockpit, I want to start cross-training some of the crew on being a co-pilot. It can’t hurt to have emergency pilots. It would be nice to give Hugo a break from time to time too.”
Hugo: “Amen. I might get to leave the cockpit for longer than thirty minutes.”
Doog: “I have some piloting experience under my belt. I’d make a great co-pilot.”
Amaya: “Uh, yeah…sure you would. Too bad for those stairs though. I guess it will have to be someone else.”
Doog: “I could maybe do the stairs for something this important.”
Amaya: “I don’t know. Given your history…I think it’s safer if we give the co-pilot position to someone else.”
Doog: “Fine. I didn’t want to do the stairs anyway. Is this stupid tour over yet?”
Amaya: “Aw, don’t be sad, Doog. We’ll find you something else to do.”

Doog: “Well folks, that’s the new ship. I hope you enjoyed the tour. Hopefully the Mk II will live up to its namesake. The old ship might have been smelly, dirty, and cramped, but I’ll definitely miss her. Oh well, see ya!”
 
Note:

​Amaya: “Before we leave the Grex Cluster, there’s a planet I want to visit. I think it will make a good show.”
Doog: “What is it?”
Amaya: “Formidabant.”

Doog: “Welcome to another episode of LIU Atlas. I’m your host, Terrance “Doog” McDoogal. Today, the crew and I are visiting the small planet of Bulla Bulla. We’re actually here to conduct some business with one of the show’s producers, but we’re going to try to make an episode here too. We’re efficient like that. Also, poor. Desperately poor. We need to make episodes anytime we can.”

Doog: “Alright, the crew and I have been dropped off in the planet’s capital and largest city. I’m sure it has a name, but I don’t know it.”
Oldie: “This is Paomo, I believe.”
Mike: “You are correct. Paomo is the capital and economic center of Bulla Bulla. About three million citizens live here, mostly off-worlders. The native Bullans only constitute about five percent of the city’s population.”
Doog: “Aren’t you just full of facts.”

Mike: “A thirty second online search told me that. I like to know things about the places I visit.”
Doog: “Not all of us have time for all your fancy research.”
Mike: “You don’t have thirty seconds to spare? Earlier today, I watched you waste six hours trying to balance your microphone on your nose.”
Doog: “Trying to set a galactic record is not a waste of time.”
Cam: “Well…considering you never kept it going more than thirty seconds, it might have been a waste.”
Doog: “Stop stepping on my dreams, Cam.”

Doog: “Well, did your extensive research turn up anything else show-worthy?”
Mike: “I wouldn’t consider a thirty second search, extensive, but I did learn that Bulla Bulla’s chief export is Bulla Berries. They’re the little blue plants you see all around.”
Doog: “Urban farming?”
Mike: “Apparently. It did say Bulla Berries are primarily grown within Paomo.”
Doog: “Well, there we go. Episode is a wrap. We’re on a planet. This planet has a city. This city has urban blueberries.”

Oldie: “I think we’re going to need more than that to consider this an episode.”
Doog: “You and your lofty standards.”
Oldie: “I don’t think it’s too much to ask to spend more than five minutes exploring a place before calling it a show. LIU Atlas is supposed to be educational.”
Doog: “Yeah, yeah. Improving astronomy grades across the galaxy.”
Oldie: “Besides, I think this episode is going to have a surprise ending.”

Doog: “What’s that supposed to mean? What aren’t you telling us?”
Mike: “Nobody likes your surprises, Oldie. Remember that surprise vacation you took us on?”
Doog: “Ugh, the old folks' planet. Worst surprise ever.”
Cam: “Don’t forget that surprise he threw at us between Seasons 4 and 5.”
Doog: “Which part? The no break between seasons? Or the extragalactic trip in cargo-class?”
Oldie: “Quit whining, we’re going to miss the train.” 

Mike: “We’re meeting the producers, right? Meeting them in a good way or bad way?
Oldie: “Good, mostly…I think.”
Doog: “Mostly good. Consider my confidence inspired.”
Oldie: “Can we quit with the questions? We have more pressing issues.”
Mike: “What’s more pressing than our future?”
Oldie: “I may have forgotten where we’re going.”

Doog: “It’s the dementia. We knew this day was coming.”
Oldie: “No! It’s nothing like that. I just forgot the name of the place we’re meeting the producers…and how to get there.”
Mike: “Did we just take a train to a random place?”
Oldie: “No, I remember this part.  I know we were supposed to get off at this stop. We should be in the uptown food district. It gets a little foggy after that.”
Mike: “Sooo…what do we do now? Just randomly ask people if they’re our show’s producer?”
Doog: “There’s only like a million people around here. We’ll definitely find them by season twelve.”
Mike: “You have to remember more, Oldie.”
Oldie: “I’m trying. I’m trying. I know we’re looking for a spaceport. Let’s just find a nearby spaceport.”

Doog: “This is the third spaceport we’ve been to. This better be right. If I have to walk another step…”
Oldie: “I don’t know. It looks too little.”
Doog: “You have failed me for the last time, Oldie. I’m laying down.”
Mike: “Why are we looking for a spaceport anyway?”
Cam: “Because that’s where the producers are, duh.”
Mike: “Duh, I know that. Why are we meeting them there and not a restaurant or office building?”
Doog: “Does it even matter? We’re never going to find them. There are hundreds of little spaceports in this town. Presumably to ship out all this urban produce.”

Cam: “We should probably check this place while we’re here. I know Oldie said it’s too small, but he can’t even remember where we’re going. It’s kind of hard to say if he even remembers what size it’s supposed to be.”
Oldie: “I can’t argue with that.”

Doog: “If these guys are our producers, we’re in worse shape than I thought.”
Oldie: “Uh, hey there. Are you expecting us?”
Alien: “Anotitarisira kuita chii? Ndiwe ani?”
Guy: “He wants to know who you are? Why should he expect you?”
Cam: “Does LIU Atlas mean anything to you?”
Guy: “Not really. Is it some kind of map collection?”
Doog: “Well, this isn’t it.”
Alien: “Nguva ndiyo mari. Ibva pano. Hatitengesi mamotokari.”
Guy: “I’m in agreeance with my partner, here. We don’t have time for this. We don’t deal in maps. We do have some hovercar parts. We’re running a sale on all new parts. And by new…I mean…”

Oldie: “Wait! I remember! Sale and new! Newsale! We’re looking for Newsale Spaceport.”
Guy: “Oh, you guys are into the fancy stuff, huh? Newsale is a few blocks north of here. There are signs everywhere. Just follow them.”
Mike: “None of us read Presciant.”
Guy: “So.”
Mike: “Well, all the signs are written in Presciant. They’re useless to us.”
Guy: “So, learn Presciant then. How is this my problem?”
Alien: “Mushanyi!”
Guy: “Exactly.”
Oldie: “Well, at least we know where we’re going now. That’s start. A few blocks south, was it?”
Crew: “North!”

Mike: “Oh, thank the Emperor. This is it. Newsale Spaceport.”
Doog: “That was exhausting. I can’t feel my legs.”
Cam: “Annoying, yes. Exhausting, no. We walked around a city for like an hour. You’re just out of shape.”
Doog: “Your insults have inspired me to exercise more…said no one ever.”
Oldie: “Alright, enough with the banter. Be on your best behavior. Time to meet the producers.”

Mike: “What’s with the creepy smile, Oldie? Are you trying to impress the producers?”
Doog: “He probably forgot why we’re here again. He sees that pizza sign and thinks it a real pizza slice.”
Oldie: “Nope. I just see the future.”

Cam: “See the future? Maybe Doog was on to something. Oldie might be slipping. We might want to get him checked out.”
Doog: “Wait, there’s no rush. Let’s at least test out his new future-seeing abilities. Oldie, if you’re still in there, what’s next week’s lottery numbers.”
Oldie: “You guys seriously don’t see it yet?”
Doog: “No, we have our minds. We need you to get the lotto numbers.”
Oldie: “I was going to wait for the producers, but this is too good. May I present…”

Oldie: “…our new ship, the Magellan Mark II.”
Doog: “What! How is this possible!?”
Oldie: “Ha! You like it, huh? Old, ‘dementia-ridden’ me did something good for once, didn’t I?”
Doog: “If this is real, then, yes, you’ve redeemed yourself.”
Mike: “This is amazing, Oldie. It looks like a new and improved version of the old Magellan.”
Oldie: “Yep. This bad boy is also a converted Jaculan-Class Cargo Ship. It’s a newer model, of course. It has several notable upgrades from our old ship: dual cockpit, airlock, two decks, and get this…five beds!”
Doog: “Five!”
Cam: “No more sleeping on the floor…Do I have tears in my eyes?”
Mike: “This is the best day ever…but how did you manage this?”

Oldie: “It wasn’t too tough. I mean, I had to give into a few demands. Nothing too crazy.”
Cam: “Happy tears becoming sad tears. Oldie made a deal…”
Oldie: “Don’t worry, it’s nothing to bad. They’re not touching our salary. In fact, we should make more without the maintenance costs of the old ship.”
Doog: “Let me guess. We’re now running a ship-based bed and breakfast between episodes. The five beds are not for us. We must sleep in a closet.”
Mike: “No, I got a better one. We transport plague victims. We have five beds, but they are hospital beds. Also, we have to give sponge baths between episodes.”
Oldie: “Will you guys have a little faith in me, at least this once? Now, shut up. Here comes the producer.”

Oldie: “Hey guys, I’d like you to meet Bulla Bulla’s System Governor, Myrna Moneta, our new executive producer.”
Myrna: “Ah, the crew of LIU Atlas. Well, most of it anyway. Nice to see you in person.”
Doog: “Yeah, great to meet you. Hey, really quick, break down Bulla Bulla for us. We’re trying to make a show while we here. I bet no one can sum it up like the System Governor.”
Oldie: “Doog! Stop! This is our new boss!”
Myrna: “Now, now, Oldie. Settle down. I like efficiency. Let’s see. Bulla Bulla is in the Grex Cluster, a collection of eighteen gravitationally linked stars. Our primary export is Bulla Berries, but most of our economy revolves around trade. Bulla Bulla is the trade capital of the cluster due to its position relative to the Cibus Hyperspace Route.”
Doog: “Well folks, you heard it from the Governor herself. That’s Bulla Bulla. See ya!”
Myrna: “If you’re finished, we have some business to discuss. I have some demands before you get your new ship.”
Doog: “We’re up for anything reasonable.”
Myrna: “Well, firstly, I’m going to need a few more quality seasons. We’re edging closer to two hundred episodes, almost enough to qualify for syndication. Even with your moderate viewership, syndication of LIU Atlas will make me millions.”
Doog: “You’re guaranteeing our show more seasons? I think I speak for the crew, when I say, heck yeah.”
Myrna: “Good. My next demand might not go over as easy. Amaya, come here.”

Myrna: “This is my granddaughter, Amaya Moneta. She’ll be joining your crew as Associate Producer. She will be overseeing my interests.”
Amaya: “Hey guys!”
Doog: “Whoa, whoa. We kind of have this rule where everyone on the crew has a moustache. I don’t think Amaya qualifies.”
Amaya: “Hugo doesn’t have a moustache.”
Doog: “Doesn’t he? I don’t remember.”
Amaya: “Look, I understand your reluctance. You guys have your little boys club. I have a lot to offer though. I’m an elite citizen, so I have connections. I grew up here, so I speak and read Presciant. I know that’s something your crew lacks. Also, I’m the only way you get this new ship.”
Doog: “I’m fine with it, now that the mustache rule is a hoax.”
Cam: “Yeah, some fresh blood wouldn’t hurt.”
Mike: “This is just semantics. It’s not like we can say no. Welcome to the crew!”
Amaya: “Thanks.”
Myrna: “Very well. The ship is yours, but nothing better happen to my granddaughter.”
Oldie: “We promise she’ll be fine. She’s in good hands.”

Amaya: “Here comes Hugo and Timbo with some of the gear. I’ll send a moving crew to get the rest of our stuff. Come on! Let’s check out our new ship.”
Doog: “One thing first, moustache check for Hugo.”
Hugo: “I don’t have a moustache, Doog.”
Doog: “You sure don’t. Hmm, you learn something new every day.”
 
 
Note: The Moneta family controls several interests within the Grex Cluster. Their primary source of income comes from Bulla Shipping, a billion-credit company that exports the commodities of the cluster to the rest of the galaxy. They also have control full control of the production of LIU Atlas now. 

Doog: “Welcome to another episode of LIU Atlas. I’m your host, Terrance “Doog” McDoogal. Today, we’re visiting Renovo, an outer-rim world. Renovo is a circumbinary planet, meaning it orbits around a binary star system. Renovo is ice cold due to its lack of atmosphere and its deep orbit. We’re going to head down to the planet and see why anyone would bother living here.”

Doog: “Alright, I’ve been dropped off on a landing platform above some type of facility. There are several structures here, but none of them seem all that large. I guessing they are part of a larger facility within the cliffside.”

Dr. Samsara: “Well, hypothesized, Mr. McDoogal. These are, in fact, part of a larger whole. The majority of this station is underground, where it is protected from radiation. I’m Dr. Samsara, by the way. Pleased to make your acquaintance.”
Doog: “Mr. McDoogal is my father…well, allegedly. Call me Doog.”
Samsara: “Doog. Yes, that will do. Welcome to Renovo.”
Doog: “Thanks. So, quick question, is this place dangerous? I heard you mention radiation.”
Samsara: “Perfectly safe, as long as you stay in that suit.”
Doog: “Given the lack of atmosphere, I think that’s a given. Well, unless something really great tempting happens out here.”
Samsara: “What do you mean?”
Doog: “Well, you never know. What if I see a taco laying around? I might have to remove my helmet to eat it. I can’t pass up that opportunity.”
Samsara: “In that scenario, radiation wouldn’t be the problem. Violent decompression and freezing temperatures would kill you before you could eat this implausibly placed taco.”
Doog: “Perhaps, but I’d have to try. Maybe your guys shouldn’t leave anything tempting outside while I’m here. That list would include: tacos, pizza, cheeseburgers, nudie magazines…”
Samsara: “I assure you nothing on your list will be out here. Let’s move on. Please.”

Doog: “If this place is so radioactive, why are there any structures outside? Why not shove them all underground?”
Samsara: “Certain functions require access to the outside. Sub-space communications, radiation and weather monitoring, et cetera. Pods, like these, jut out from the safety of the interior structure to perform these functions.”
Doog: “Makes sense. So, what’s so radioactive here? Uranium? Radium? Plutonium?”
Samsara: “There’s nothing inherently radioactive on the planet. The radiation is from an exterior source. It arrives here in the form of cosmic rays. Renovo’s binary stars put off a ton of radiation, particularly Moksha, the system’s yellow hypergiant. With no atmosphere to filter out the cosmic rays, Renovo gets bombarded.”

Samsara: “We need to cut through the facility to reach the lower levels. While inside, I must insist that you keep your suit sealed. The industrial portions of the facility are exposed to various chemicals and irradiated dust. It’s for your safety.”
Doog: “I’ll try, although the taco scenario seems a bit more likely in here.”
Samsara: “Still highly unlikely. My employees know better than to contaminate their food.”

Doog: “And…we’re right back out in the radioactive wasteland.”
Samsara: “Yes. We needed to get to ground level so we can explore some of our exterior operations.”
Doog: “What kind of operations are we talking about?”

Samsara: “Mining operations. Renovo is abundant in organic compounds called Tholins. We extract them.”
Doog: “Organic? Like it’s alive?”
Samsara: “No, no. Organic simply means that the compounds are carbon based.”
Doog: “Ah. So, what are Tholins? I’ve never heard of anything like that.”
Samsara: “Tholins are an amalgam of organic compounds created when cosmic radiation interacts with the frozen carbon dioxide and methane on Renovo’s surface.”
Doog: “A what of compounds?”
Samsara: “Amalgam, a blend or variety of organic compounds. Tholins are not one specific substance. It varies in its composition, but always contains complex, carbon-based molecules.”
Doog: “Ah, yes. That clears it up.”
Samsara: “It’s a difficult concept to understand for a layman. Some of my non-scientific crew members have taken to calling it, ‘star tar’, if that helps.”
Doog: “Star tar it is. So, where is it?”

Samsara: “It’s difficult to see. We harvested the surface Tholins years ago. Most of the Tholins we obtain now come from underground sources. If you could see it, though, Tholins look like a viscous, reddish-brown liquid.”
Doog: “Star tar. Like tar, but reddish. Got it.”
Samsara: “Yes. Let’s head further into the field.”

Samsara: “We’ve located several underground Tholin reservoirs within this area. Tholins are extracted by drilling and pumping the reservoirs. I’m not sure if you’re familiar with oil production, but the processes are similar.”
Doog: “I’ve done some drilling and pumping, if you know what I mean.”
Samsara: “In the oil industry?”
Doog: “Sex worker industry, mostly.”
Samsara: “Oh, I see now. You were trying to be humorous.”
Doog: “I was trying, but, apparently, I failed.”

Samsara: “Tholins are transported back to the facility via pipelines.”
Doog: “I’ve laid some pipe over the years.”
Samsara: “You worked in…wait…that’s a euphemism, isn’t it? You’re full of jokes.”
Doog: “What can I say? Comedy is my thing. Wait! Is that a taco over there?!”
Samsara: “What? Where?!”
Doog: “Never mind. Just a rock. Close call though.”
Samsara: “You’re not right, are you?”
Doog: “Not entirely.”

Doog: “What’s all this other stuff? Pipeline maintenance?”
Samsara: “This is a drill team actually. They must be heading out get samples from a newly discovered reservoir.”
Doog: “Do you discover new reservoirs often?”
Samsara: “Actually, we don’t. They’re rare.”

Samsara: “Scouting Rovers utilize ground penetrating radar to locate new deposits. They don’t find many, though. Tholins are a limited resource.”
Doog: “Don’t the cosmic rays make more? I would think that Tholins are renewable.”
Samsara: “Renewable, yes, but not on an economic timescale. We are extracting Tholins much faster than they are created. Operations here will not be viable in a decade. Fortunately, Tholins are located on millions of worlds in this galaxy. Any planet or moon that has radiation, no atmosphere, and certain ices will contain Tholins.”
Doog: “I guess that’s good. We wouldn’t want to run out of star tar. Would we? What is it even used for?”
Samsara: “Great question. To answer that, we’ll need to head inside.”

Doog: “This just creates more questions. Am I looking at a slug prison?”
Samsara: “No. These are slugapedes. And, they’re not in prison. These are holding pens.”
Doog: “Slugapedes?”
Samsara: “Yes. A portmanteau of slug and centipede. They look like slugs, but they have these little legs running down their bodies.”

Doog: “So, we discovered the what. What about the why? Why are there slugapedes here?”
Samsara: “Slugapedes have the unique ability to metabolize Tholins. We use them to convert Tholins into a more usable product.”
Doog: “So, let me get this right. They eat the Tholins. Their bodies convert it. And, you, presumably, get a product from slugapede poo?”
Samsara: “Not from the excrement. But, you’re close.”
Doog: “From the urine?”
Samsara: “No, not that either. Follow me.”

Samsara: “Slugapedes originate from an icy moon called Limax. Limax is also covered in Tholins. The Slugapedes eat the Tholins, rearrange the Tholins into biological compounds, and then arrange these compounds into genetic copies of themselves. They replicate themselves using Tholins.”
Doog: “There must be billions of these replicator, slug-a-ma-jigs on Limax.”
Samsara: “Actually, there’s very few. The Tholins are not as abundant on Limax, as they are here. It takes them years to eat enough to replicate themselves.”

Samsara: “Even though there are more Tholins here, we don’t have the time to let the slugapedes eat at a natural pace. We force feed Slugapedes gallons of Tholins every day.”
Doog: “Gross. You’re just pumping star tar down their gullets?”
Samsara: “Yes. They don’t seem to mind. Besides, by overfeeding them, we’ve ramped up their reproduction a thousand percent. Each slugapede gives us three eggs a day.”
Doog: “Eggs? That’s what you get?”

Samsara: “Slugapedes don’t pop out a genetic copy of themselves. They lay eggs that contain all the necessary building blocks for building a copy. If we harvest the eggs soon enough, we can extract the abiogenetic fluid.”
Doog: “The what?”
Samsara: “Abiogenetic fluid. The fluid contains all the basic building blocks of organic matter.”
Doog: “Why would you want that?”

Samsara: “Because you can use the fluid to make any kind of organic matter. We can grow organs, limbs, or entire bodies. It’s not limited to humans either. They literally can make any biological matter.”
Doog: “Can you make tacos?”
Samsara: “Actually, we could, given enough time. There’s better uses though.”
Doog: “What’s better than tacos?”
Samsara: “Everything I mentioned above. Abiogenetic Fluid saves lives.”
Doog: “We got a taco hater over here. I should have known from before.”

Doog: “Kidding aside. Why haven’t I heard of this life-saving fluid?”
Samsara: “It is quite expensive. It is sometimes cheaper to use cybernetic replacements. Also, it’s a bit slower too. Cybernetics can be installed right away, but growing new limbs takes a few weeks.”
Doog: “That’s why I’ve never heard of it. I’m poor and impatient.”
Samsara: “It may be slow and expensive, but it’s still a popular choice, especially among the elite. Why walk around looking like a cyborg when you can get the real thing? Besides that, many of the galaxy’s richest citizens use it to create younger, replacement bodies.”
Doog: “That could be useful. I don’t think my body has that many years left in it.”

Samsara: “The abiogenetic fluid is sold under the name, Resurrect. A fitting name given its properties.”
Doog: “I think it would be cooler if it had a name like star-tar. Something that rhymes, like Renew Goo or something.”
Samsara: “Renew goo sounds disgusting, if I’m being honest.”

Doog: “So, you can just buy a bottle of this stuff and make a new body?”
Samsara: “Well, you can’t purchase it at any old supermarket. It’s usually sold to medical facilities. Even if you could get your hands on some, you don’t have the equipment to do anything with it.”
Doog: “Dang, there goes my plans for making a realistic girlfriend.”
Samsara: “You definitely don’t have the ‘equipment’ for that.”
Doog: “Ouch, doc. You hurt my soul a bit with that one, but at least I know you have a sense of humor now.”

Doog: “So, is that it? Are we done here?”
Samsara: “Not yet. There’s one more thing I want to show you.”

Doog: “What in the world is going on here? Worst fish tanks ever!”
Samsara: “They’re not aquariums. They’re Phoenix Chambers, where we grow biological materials.”
Doog: “Ah, that makes much more sense.”
Samsara: “We ship most of the Resurrect off-world, but we do keep some here for experimental purposes.”
Doog: “Experimental? I thought this is sound science?”
Samsara: “It is sound science, but we’re pushing the bounds. Using information obtained from the Emeritus Cloning Project, we’re growing enhanced lifeforms. We’re building lifeforms that never existed. We are pushing…”
Doog: “I’ve been to Emeritus. You’re making enhanced Super-Soldiers, aren’t you?”
Samsara: “I can’t answer that. We’re doing stuff though. Amazing stuff.”
Doog: “Yeah, ok. Anything else?”
Samsara: “No, that’s it.”

Doog: “Well folks, Renovo is a strange place. The interaction between cosmic radiation and Renovo’s various ices has created a substance called Tholins, also known as star tar. This tar is collected and force-fed to imported, slug-like creatures. Yeah, I know. It’s weird. The stuffed slugs lay eggs that have some type of fluid inside that can make body parts. You can’t make this stuff up. I think that’s the gist of it. Oh well, see ya!”
 

​
Note: Favorite Puns of the Phoenix Chamber Facility:
#1 “Can you give me a hand over here…”
#2 “He’s got a leg up on you…”

Doog: “Welcome to another episode of LIU Atlas. I’m your host, Terrance “Doog” McDoogal. Today, we’re exploring the Opulentus Chthonian Remnant Field, which is a bit of a mouthful. From here on out, we’re just going to call it Opulentus. Opulentus got its name because it is a field of debris that was once a chthonian planet. Now, if you’re like me, that isn’t very helpful. What’s a chthonian planet? Well, I’m told a chthonian planet is a former gas giant that has its gaseous layers stripped away. Only the highly condensed core of the gas giant remains. Chthonian planets contain all the exotic matter of a gas giant without all the pesky gas and atmospheric pressure. These rare planets are prime mining worlds. In the case of Opulentus, the gaseous layers were removed by passing black hole. The black hole’s gravity also shattered the chthonian planet, therefore creating the Opulentus Chthonian Remnant Field. Whew, that was complicated. Anyway, Opulentus is inhabited, so let’s head inside.”

OCRF-451: “You must be Doog.”
Doog: “I am. And, you must be one of the monotone robotic entities that inhabit Opulentus.”
OCRF-451: “I am designated OCRF-451.”
Doog: “OCRF-451? That’s a bit long. How about OC?”
OC: “I exist to serve.”
Doog: “Nice. I dig your subservience. I could have used you earlier though. I’ve been wandering around for a while. Everything is locked up.”
OC: “Our facility is highly secure for your safety. The exotic matter mined from the Opulentus Chthonian Remnant Field can be unstable and therefore dangerous.”
Doog: “What exactly do you mine here?”

OC: “We mainly mine metallic hydrogen.”
Doog: “Hey, I know metallic hydrogen. They mine it on this planet called Barathrum. I thought metallic hydrogen was only found in the deep cores of gas giants?”
OC: “Opulentus used to be a gas giant. The metallic hydrogen created during that era still exists now. Metallic hydrogen is meta-stable. Once created, it remains in the same state until sufficiently disturbed.”
Doog: “Oh yeah. I forgot about that part. Barathrum was like four years ago. My information retention abilities are slightly lacking.”
OC: “Although meta-stable, metallic hydrogen extraction can be dangerous. While removing regolith, you risk the chance of striking pockets of metallic hydrogen and destabilizing it.”
Doog: “I’m guessing destabilization equals big booms.”
OC: “There is a significant energy release. Luckily, my model was created to offset risks. We possess upgraded sensory perception and advanced dexterity. With the aid of stabilization walkers, we have very few accidents.”

Doog: “So, you were created?”
OC: “Yes. My model was developed by the Technocracy for the sole purpose of mining the Opulentus Chthonian Remnant Field.”
Doog: “You were created by the Technocracy? I know them. I’ve been to Arillator.”
OC: “Yes. At the peak of the Technocracy, they controlled hundreds of worlds. The Opulentus Chthonian Remnant Field was one such world. In my estimation, it was one of their most profitable possessions. It quickly caught the LIU’s attention.”
Doog: “What makes it so profitable? The metallic hydrogen? I guess that’s kind of rare.”
OC: “It’s more of what you can do with metallic hydrogen. Follow me.”

Doog: “Whoa. What’s this thing?”
OC: “A power generator.”
Doog: “So, in addition to mining, you generate power?”
OC: “We generate power from what we mine. We destabilize metallic hydrogen in a controlled manner.”

Doog: “Got it. I knew metallic hydrogen had many uses. I forgot it releases energy when disturbed.”
OC: “Yes. We make about 5 zettajoules of clean power every week. Enough to power a civilized planet for an entire year.”
Doog: “That sounds profitable. You essentially power fifty planets a year just by yourself.”
OC: “Indeed.”

OC: “Chthonian planets have more than just metallic hydrogen. They have other exotic high-pressure materials, like pressurized sodium chloride. Under the right conditions, Na3Cl is two-dimensional super-conductive metal. We use it make our own brand of power cells.”

Doog: “What makes them so special?”
OC: “Nothing really. They’re similar to other power cells for the most part. It does lessen our reliance on other worlds though, which drives up profits.”
Doog: “Sounds like Opulentus is a rich world.”
OC: “It's very rich with little overhead expenses. My model does not require payment for labor, so almost every credit made belongs to the LIU. Some power must be siphoned off to power myself and my counterparts, but it hardly makes a dent in profitability. Many studies suggest that Opulentus is one of the galaxy’s most profitable world.”

Doog: “Is that what’s locked away behind all these doors? Massive vaults of wealth?”
OC: “Yes, technically, but not in the manner you’re imagining. The potential for wealth here has attracted large numbers of the LIU’s elite, especially those looking to invest. First class facilities were built to house them and meet their elegant lifestyle. They are beyond this door.”
Doog: “That’s why it’s locked...to keep out low class folks like myself.”
OC: “Yes, but it is your lucky day. You have been granted access to the elite sections of this facility. Follow me.”

Doog: “This seems so out of place…a fancy bar on a mining world.”
OC: “We prefer cocktail lounge. It’s a gathering place for the elite to mingle, discuss investments, and make business deals. Many issues of galactic importance have been settled over a bottle of liquor in this lounge.”
Doog: “It’s good to know that the fate of us underlings are all drunk decisions.”

OC: “What’s wrong? Why are you doing that?”
Doog: “Doing what?”
OC: “Puffing out your chest and sucking in your belly?”
Doog: “Can’t a guy try to look good in front of the elite ladies? I’m definitely in the market for a sugar momma.”
OC: “I do not possess information on that subject. Perhaps we should continue.”

Doog: “Holy Emperor! I’m trying really hard not to go fanboy crazy on you, but is that Maddie and the Soap Buckets?!”
OC: “I believe so.”
Doog: “This is one of the biggest bands in the galaxy! What are they doing here!?”
OC: “Galaxy-class entertainment is brought in daily to please the elite.”

Doog: “The elite aren’t even paying attention! They’re just eating dinner like nothing’s happening!”
OC: “I don’t pretend to understand the musical needs of sentient beings, so I can’t speak to their disinterest. However, the band is here quite frequently. Perhaps their novelty has worn off.”

Doog: “I doubt that. I could listen to their stuff for years.”
OC: “Perhaps it’s the top of the line cuisine distracting them.”
Doog: “Maybe. It does smell delicious in here. I see pizza too. Pizza might be a temporary distraction, I guess. In fact, that’s all I can think about now. Do I get pizza as part of the tour?”
OC: “I’m afraid not. The cuisine is strictly for elite citizens. They enjoy eating while discussing business arrangements.”
Doog: “Is that all that happens in Opulentus’ elite section? Is everything just set up to facilitate business meetings?”
OC: “Yes. We still have the observation deck and ballroom to tour, if you’re ready to move on.”
Doog: “I think we can pass. We get the point. Elite people under elite conditions meet with each other. No need to keep seeing the same thing.”
OC: “There is one other thing of interest that is sufficiently different to be of worth.  It is also a form of entertainment, but it’s usually too exciting to conduct business.”
Doog: “I like the way that sounds. I guess I can spare a bit more time.”

Doog: “This isn’t what I was expecting. Everyone has their clothes on. What am I looking at here?”
OC: “This is the skill game, Prosperity.”
Doog: “Prosperity? Never heard of it.”
OC: “It is a game played by the elite. It was developed on the world of Alea as a betting game, but was abandoned by the casinos because it offers no house edge. Instead of players playing against the house, they play against each other. The players bet on themselves and the crowd bets on whoever they think will win. A lot of money gets thrown around during Prosperity, which makes it too expensive for the non-elite to play. Thousands of credits can be spent in minutes.”

Doog: “How do you play?”
OC: “It’s much too elaborate to explain in the time we have remaining. I can give you a condensed version, though.”
Doog: “Go for it.”
OC: “It involves tossing the magnetic dice, called a Fortune, over a series of numbered panels. Each panel indicates if the fortune increases or decreases, depending on where the dice stops. Each competitor gets six throws, which is called a career. Whichever competitor amasses the most fortune at the end of their career, wins at Prosperity.”
Doog: “Seems easy enough. Rolling and then some math.”
OC: “That’s the basics, but there’s a lot more. There are multipliers, strikes, investments, espionage, and many, many other moves during a career that make the game much more difficult.”
Doog: “Yeah, ok. You’re right. We don’t have time for that, especially since I’ll never have enough money to play. What’s the point of learning the game if you can never play it.”

Doog: “Well folks, that’s Opulentus. This destroyed chthonian planet has immense mineral worth, mostly in the form of metallic hydrogen. These minerals are turned into energy and power cells, making Opulentus extremely valuable. Its value has attracted a slew of rich, elite citizens. The visiting elite citizens have special needs, so galaxy-class accommodations were built here. This place has all the fancy restaurants, concert venues, and bars the elite citizens need. This certainly isn’t a place for someone like me. Oh well, off to the next planet. See ya!”
 
 
 
Note: Maddie and the Soap Buckets will be playing their number one single, Teleport My Holographic Heart, live on TV2 later this month. Get details by following TV2 on your LIUpad. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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


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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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


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