Chapter 26: Kratopaxi Moon
Wild Space, beyond the Outer Rim
Stanley Tweedle sat on a tongue-toilet, luxuriating in the knowledge that he didn't feel pressured to hurry back to the bridge. Try as they might, Lillie still had the key to the Lexx. She was up on the bridge now, technically the captain, but she still thought of herself as the pilot and deferred to Stanley. For Stanley, it was the best of both worlds.
It was a pity, Stanley thought, that the key couldn't be easily passed around, but that was the fault of His Divine Shadow, who had been too paranoid to allow anyone but himself to be in control. Oh well.
The crew of the Lexx had been on the run for some two months now. They skipped around the galaxy, sometimes crossing from one side to the other, just to keep the Imperial fleet off balance. It seemed to be working. If anything, the fleet chasing after them had only grown in size.
The planetary systems they visited were from a rather long list supplied by Bail Organa's planning team. A few on the list had Rebel Alliance leanings, but largely they were systems either loyal to the Empire, or firmly under the grip of Imperial despotism. The listed planets all had one thing in common: the Alliance had assets in place to allow a secure comm link back to Alderaan should a critical need arise; otherwise, they were to remain incommunicado.
The list was long enough to ensure they would not have time to visit more than about one-third of the systems at best, before returning to Alderaan. The other key factor was that the Lexx crew were to choose from the list at random and in their own time. The Alliance itself had no idea where the Lexx might visit next, or when. Even if an Imperial spy managed to steal a copy of the list, it could not be easily used to plan an ambush.
With the possibility of theft in mind, the Lexx crew were also encouraged to randomly revisit a few planets. This was to minimize a successful ambush through a process of elimination.
There was one hard, fast rule Bail Organa personally impressed on Stanley: do not blow up planets—particularly planets under Imperial control. The Lexx's greatest value to the rebel cause, Bail had said, was visiting Imperial systems both loyal and oppressed with impunity. Each time the Imperial fleet failed to capture the Lexx, it made the Emperor look increasingly impotent. The Lexx, in Bail's view, was the Rebel Alliance's greatest recruitment tool, and the Emperor knew it.
Not blowing up planets was a great disappointment to Stanley, but Bail had also made another excellent point. In Bail's estimation, the Lexx was, in some respects, the more fearsome weapon. Compared to the Death Star, it was small, very fast, and most of all, both proven and operational.
As Bail Organa put it, if the Emperor discovered the Lexx's true purpose, he might temporarily abandon work on the Death Star and focus on solely capturing the Lexx instead. Better to have the Emperor's attention and resources divided. Of course, this strategy only worked as long as the Lexx's secret was maintained, and the Death Star remained non-operational.
Stanley was startled out of his reverie when the tongue-toilet began cleaning his bottom. He hastily jumped away and pulled up his jumpsuit. As he watched, a giant tongue came up, licked the toilet seat clean, and disappeared back down the hole. With a shutter and look of disgust, he turned and headed off to the bridge.
"Hi guys," Stanley said breezily as he walked up to the others.
Both Lillie and Ginger were present on the bridge, as well as 790. Kai was still on ice in the cryochamber to conserve protoblood.
"Well you took your time!" said 790, its voice dripping with derision.
That got a laugh from Ginger.
790 rolled its eyes. "Hey Leatherass! You don't have to laugh at everything I say," it said in exasperation.
That got another laugh.
Ginger grinned down at 790 on its cart. "Love you too, 790!"
Lillie shook her head. "I don't know why you encourage him. He's unrelentingly rude," she said to Ginger.
Ginger glanced at Lillie with a smile. "He's unrelentingly honest. That's why I like him!"
Stanley clasped his hands together. "If we're finished with the 790 lovefest, what have we got?"
"I still think we should have stuck to the list," said Ginger. "Yeah yeah, I know—you wanted to take a break from the chase."
The problem with leading the Empire around by the nose through the galaxy, Stanley reflected, is that it didn't allow for much in the way of down time. Sometimes they had days before the fleet located them and arrived, but more often than not, it was a matter of hours, and once just a matter of minutes before they had to scramble to their next stop. It was taking its toll on Lillie, not to mention cutting into Stanley's sex life and key transfer attempts.
It was time, Stanley had announced to the others, to go off the map and rest up. Stanley's idea was to travel to another, nearby galaxy, far out of reach of the Imperials. 790 wouldn't hear of it, complaining he would be too far away from Xev. Ginger pointed out that if they did, that would put them out of communications range with Alderaan.
In the end, they settled for seeking refuge in an area of the galaxy called "Wild Space." After a few misdirections and bursts of speed the fleet couldn't hope to match, they lost their tail and entered Wild Space with some trepidation. With a name like Wild Space, who or what they might encounter was anyone's guess. What they didn't expect was the signal 790 was analyzing now.
"I'm picking up amplitude modulated transmissions in a low electromagnetic band, very primitive, definitely artificial in origin," said 790. "It's propagating out at light speed from a nearby planet around ninety light years away."
"Light speed?" said Lillie. "What's the point in that? It's way too slow to be useful."
"I hate to break it to you darling, but even the Empire still uses light speed tech for civilian intra-planet communications. All spacecraft and the Imperial military use superluminal gear, but really, it's only required when going beyond the immediate orbit of a planet. But you're right, this far out it's useless."
"So why do it?" Ginger asked.
"I don't think they're attempting to communicate with anyone outside their own planet. It just happens to be radiating out, and we, purely by chance, stumbled across it."
"Any chance you can tune in to one of these modulated signals?" Stanley asked.
"Yes, that part is trivial. The natives call their planet Kratopaxi. I've checked every galactic registry available. It's a complete unknown. Beyond that, what they're sending makes little sense."
790 picked one of the stronger signals and began to play it on the bridge.
"...only five hundred sets left on the easy-pay plan! For just fifteen stavas down and ten stavas a month, you too can be the proud owner of a fine SENSITONE Regenerative Radio Receiving Set! Hear the testimonials! 'Last night I tried my new Sensitone radio. It certainly is a fine machine. I am getting stations as far away as Adanak! Radio truly is the marvel of the age. I am saving up to add amplifiers and a loud speaker. Then, no more headset! My family can listen together.' Well folks, you've heard it from your neighbors—order yours today!"
"See?" said 790. "Complete nonsense!"
"What do you suppose a 'radio' is?" asked Lillie.
"It's what they call their transmission and receiving devices." replied 790.
"So, let me see if I have this straight," said Stanley as he scratched his chin. "They're selling radios... on their radio?"
"I know, right?" said 790. "It's completely nuts!"
"Well how else would you sell radios?" Lillie said.
"They have something similar to display tablets called print media—newspapers, magazines, and the like."
"The strange part to me is how primitive it all is," said Ginger. "From the message itself, to the technology used to broadcast the message."
"We wanted off the beaten path; now we're well off the path. That signal is coming from a planet completely cut off from the rest of the galaxy. We could be hearing a newly emergent civilization. We won't know until we go look."
"I don't know, 790," Stanley said hesitantly. "I don't like the fact they're broadcasting their location."
790 snorted. "Do you have any idea how tiny a bubble a ninety light-year radius is, when compared to the rest of the galaxy? No, of course not! It's a tiny spec, and they're on the very outer edge of this galaxy. It will be at least another century before their signals reach a civilized outpost, and that assumes the signals don't degrade to the point they're indistinguishable from background radiation."
"He means it's safe, Stanley," Ginger said with a smirk.
"Yes! Thank you. I got that," Stanley said with some frustration. "Let's go check 'em out. Lillie? Have the Lexx follow the signals back to their source."
As the Lexx began tracking, 790 spoke up once again. "In case someone doesn't get light speed communications—I'm looking at you, security guard—ninety light-years travel means we're receiving ninety years of broadcast history. The closer we get, the more recent and sophisticated the signals become. Now I'm getting frequency modulated channels and analog video signals. We can see what they look like if you want."
"Definitely," said Lillie. "Lexx? Show us one of the video signals."
The view screen displayed a coarse, grayish, moving image.
"Are those humans?" Ginger asked as she stared at the view screen.
The image changed to a closeup of one of the figures. "I think you're right, Ginger, they're definitely human," replied Stanley.
"They must be a new human variant because they're all gray," said Lillie.
"No, it's the signal," said 790. "It's a crude, gray-scale encoding system suitable for equally crude receivers. Color is reduced to shades of gray."
They fell silent for a moment as they watched.
"Why are they suddenly dancing around a wheeled ground vehicle?" said Lillie.
"I think they're extolling its virtues," replied Ginger as she tried to puzzle it out.
"Here's a somewhat newer video signal," said 790.
"Hey kids! It's time for everyone's favorite superhero! Quota-Man! In color!"
Quota-Man, Quota-Man,
He's the man who sells our bran,
Finds the ones, who haven't bought,
Under-buyers are always caught,
Look out! Here comes the Quota-Man.
Quota-Man, can see your heart,
Knows when shirks don't play their part,
Duty calls, procure your dole,
We all win when you meet our goal,
Look out! Here comes the Quota-Man.
"Okay… what was that?" said Stanley. He was totally confused by what they were witnessing.
"A children's program about shortages and rationing?" Lillie said in shock and absolute disbelief.
790 rocked back and forth as it analyzed more and more signals. "Quite the opposite," it said. "The broadcast glorifies corporate-driven consumer spending. Here's another sample from the same program."
"...And remember kids, the new quota is fourteen eggs a week! Don't forget to tell your parents. If they're not buying enough, you know who to call. Quota-Man!"
"Just to be clear, that fourteen eggs a week?" said 790. "It's not a maximum—it's a mandatory minimum."
Stanley shook his head. "They require people to buy fourteen of eggy things a week?"
"It gets worse. Eggs are only sold by the dozen. To meet your quota, you have to buy twenty-four at a time. Same with other products. Sausages are sold in six-packs, so what's the quota? Seven."
"I can't believe they're targeting children with this messaging!" Ginger said.
"Oh, believe it!" replied 790. "Their media companies make up new quota superheroes all the time. There's Captain Quota, Superquota, The Incredible Quota, Doctor Quota, Guardians of the Quota, Wonder Quota. The list goes on. The media company that owns Quota-Man is currently locked in a legal dispute with another media company over, 'The Amazing Quota-Man.'"
"That's completely insane!" said Ginger. She looked around at the others, aghast.
"Insanity is the hallmark of a Type-13 civilization," said 790. "Individually, people are smart, but as a society, Type-13 civilizations behave no better than yeast trapped in a bottle. They're on a collision course with extinction."
"How so?" said Stanley.
"Most Type-13 planets end themselves by mucking about with Higgs boson particles. Others kill themselves off through nuclear war, and still others through environmental abuse. Kratopaxi seems to fall into the last category, though the first two possibilities cannot be excluded. Take a look."
The view screen switched to an outside view as they approached Kratopaxi, a jeweled blue-green world suspended in the blackness of space. To Stanley, it looked absolutely gorgeous—until they entered orbit.
"What's that?" said Lillie. She pointed to a brownish-white streak covering a large area in the northern hemisphere.
"That would be a major fire raging out of control. The very fact we can see it without magnification means it's bad, but because it's burning in a unpopulated area, it doesn't even make the regular news. There's been no attempt to keep it under control. It's burning away in a forest that is the third largest contributor to oxygen production on this planet."
"Wouldn't fires like that happen anyway, if the planet was wild?" said Ginger.
"On its own it wouldn't be a problem, but that's not the only fire. They're also busy exploiting the second largest contributor to oxygen, largely by burning it down, and badly polluting their oceans, the primary oxygen contributor. The real problem is the cumulative effect of a couple of centuries worth of environmental abuse. They've been busy pumping up the average global temperature with pollutants for short-term gain, while ignoring the long-term consequences. Any time someone does raise the issue, the official response is to kick the problem thirty years into the future. Do that enough times, and you get a cascade environmental collapse along with mass extinction."
"But surely the people in charge—" Lillie started to say.
"Would do something about it?" interrupted 790. "Type-13 civilizations often come about when conditions allow sociopaths rise to the top and take control. That, combined with get-rich-quick short-term thinking inevitably leads to disaster, be it war, or what we see here."
Stanley shook his head and ran a hand through his hair. "But… even if a bunch of rich people who only care about themselves are in charge, surely it would be in their own self-interest to not trash the place? I mean, they are aware they're trashing their own planet, right?"
"They are aware, which is why there's a booming business building luxury doomsday bunkers. We're not talking spider holes, we're talking spacious underground housing with swimming pools and simulated outdoor gardens. It's not even a secret. There are publications with splashy pictures of these bunkers."
The bridge was silent for a moment.
Lillie abruptly sat down on the pilot platform. "How long could someone expect to survive in one of these luxury doomsday bunkers?" she asked.
"The information I've tapped into is short on details, but at a guess, five years tops."
"So basically," Lillie said slowly, "the rich people who control this planet would rather build luxury bunkers for themselves that will ultimately fail, then do the right thing and ensure the survival of their own children and their children's children, along with everyone else?"
"You got it, Sweet Cheeks!" said 790.
Silence once again dominated the bridge.
"Maybe we should go look for another planet," Lillie said.
790 rocked back and forth. "Sorry Cupcake, the pickings are slim out here on the edge of the galaxy. An unregistered, isolated world like this is hard to find, as in years of searching. The next stop is to go to another galaxy."
"Let's blow this place!" Ginger said abruptly.
Lillie looked up sharply at Ginger. "What?"
"Works for me," said 790.
"Hang on now," said Stanley. "Let's not get ahead of ourselves."
"You, showing restraint, security guard?" 790 said. "Did this universe come to a sudden end, because I don't remember that happening!"
Stanley held up his hands.
"All I'm saying," he said. "Is that Lillie needs a break—we could all use one, but especially Lillie—and it wouldn't hurt to have the Lexx do a top-off feed while we're here."
He paused. "Then we blow this place."
"I can live with that," said Ginger with a big grin on her face.
"I'm not sure I can," replied Lillie. "It's something I'll need to think about."
"Tell you what, Lillie," Stanley said. "Why don't you go have a nice little nap first before we decide what we do next?"
Lillie looked up and gave Stanley a grateful look. "Okay, Stan. See you back in the sleeping chamber!"
"Hey 790!" Stanley said as Lillie left the bridge. "Now that we're parked in orbit, do you think the natives will notice we're up here?"
790 blew a raspberry. "Not a chance! These people are so primitive they've made up something called 'dark matter' to explain away a fundamental misunderstanding of the universe."
It was a beautiful evening on the night side of Kratopaxi, not a cloud in the sky—perfect for star gazing. In a quiet suburban neighborhood on the outskirts of a major city, a young boy with a flashlight clamped under one arm set up a tripod in the middle of his back yard.
"Hey Dad! Dad!" could be heard from inside the house.
In the den, a woman sat alone in front of the television, idly flipping channels with a remote.
"Honey!" she called out. "You know how excited Timmy is when he gets a new telescope."
Her husband sat at his home office desk in front of his computer, typing away in an open window on the monitor.
"Isn't it past his bedtime already?" he called back. He completed his task, logged off a remote server and closed the window.
"Oh Frank, you said you'd be out there half an hour ago." his wife said.
"Sorry, I got stuck with being on-call again this week, but I'm done now."
Frank locked his computer, stood up with a stretch and walked into the back yard to join his son.
Timmy pointed up. "See Dad? The Arch is up already."
Frank looked up. The night sky had its usual scattered points of light, but the dominant feature was the Arch, a shining wide arc of clustered stars extending from horizon to horizon.
Frank smiled. "So what can you tell me about the Arch, Timmy?" he asked. He pulled a pipe out of his sweater pocket and began to tap down tobacco.
"Oh Dad!" Timmy said, a hint of complaint in his tone.
"Indulge me, son," Frank replied as he lit his pipe, his face brightened by the flicking flame of his lighter. He puffed on his pipe to get the tobacco going.
Timmy sighed. "Because we're waaay out on the edge of our galaxy, nearly all of its stars make the Arch," he said in an exasperated voice.
It was a routine Dad played every time they went outside.
Frank pointed with his pipe. "But what about those other stars?" he said, waving at the rest of the sky with a slight smile.
Timmy rolled his eyes, an action his father didn't see as he fiddled with his pipe.
"A few are local stars out on the edge with us," Timmy said. "But most are galaxies so far away they just look like stars."
Frank patted Timmy on his head, which made him squirm with annoyance.
"That's right, Timmy! Let's finish setting this up."
Frank knelt and opened the box containing the brand new toy telescope. Together, father and son attached it to the tripod and pointed it into the night sky.
As Timmy gazed into the telescope, Frank sat quietly in the grass and wondered how long it would be until this telescope was added to the growing pile of discarded telescopes in the garage. Frank had signed up for the Telescope-of-the-Month Club on Timmy's birthday. Now the club was giving him the runaround every time he tried to cancel his membership, as each month a new, increasingly expensive telescope arrived by express delivery.
This latest one had cost nearly one hundred stavas. If he couldn't resolve his dispute with the club, telescopes would soon become part of his permanent quota. Then, it would be nearly impossible to stop buying telescopes, month after month after month, long after Timmy had grown up and moved away.
"Hey Dad. Look at that!"
Frank looked up in the direction Timmy was pointing. He saw a point of light moving slowly and soundlessly across the sky.
"That's definitely not a star, it's too slow to be a meteor, and I don't think it's an aircraft either. It's probably another artificial moon launched by one of the space corporations. Have you found it in your telescope?"
"Yeah, Dad. See?"
Frank stood up and bent over to look through the telescope eyepiece. As he adjusted the focus, the object came into view.
"I'm not seeing much, son. To me, it looks like a round blob with a line sticking out. Maybe a satellite with a long antenna array? I've never seen anything like it. It's curious."
Frank pulled out his cell phone and called the president of the local amateur astronomy club. This wasn't saying much—the club only had around ten members.
"Hi Frank. What's up?" came a voice on his phone.
"Hi Bob. Are you out stargazing tonight?"
Frank heard a chuckle over the phone.
"You know I am," said Bob.
Frank imaged the big grin that must be on Bob's face.
"Well, as the man with the only decent reflecting telescope in the neighborhood, I wonder if you could take a look at a new, artificial moon."
"Spotting space junk isn't really my thing. I'd rather be gazing at the Arch."
"Yeah, but this one's different. Do it for my son? He's the one who found it."
Frank heard Bob sigh. "Sure, okay. Where is it?"
"Let's see," Frank said as he looked up in the sky again. "Roughly forty-five degrees declination, and two hours left of the Arch, moving slowly."
"Okay, I think I've eyeballed it." Bob said.
The phone went quiet as Bob adjusted his telescope. Then, Frank heard a gasp. When Bob spoke again, it was in a hushed, urgent tone.
"What in the name of Atua has your son found, Frank?"