We learned 3 things.
1st: when it rains here, it pours, & that rain can dislodge some of the protections from the trees/vines.
2nd: an electrical storm here is the most beautiful thing you have ever seen.
3rd: a particular arrangement of mostly vines can, during the middle of a rain storm, make a perfect EMP.
We’ve also discovered the exact extent of our EMP-backup procedures & how many things require manual reboot & reprogramming.
The first thing we did on landing was set up a null-charge shield around our living pods. The lightning storms – “dry lightning”, my granny would say – come down so frequently it was three days before we saw the sun.
Flora and fauna here seem adapted to the storms. Either they have channels for the electricity or they’ve learned to hide from it.
I tell you, a thing that looks like a giant moose with electricity arcing from its antlers is a terrifying sight.
But the mountain cat leaping into the storm was even worse.
We haven’t lost anyone yet, mostly due to an abundance of caution. I’m not sure how long we’ll be able to say that.
We have figured out the trick.
We nearly lost Ewro and Tagked, but we figured it out.
There’s a combination of trees and a certain element that completely repels the lightning.
And certain vines are lousy with that element.
We’re now living in a clearing in the forest under a very nice net-and-canopy that keeps us safe.
And we’re herding Giant Moose and Red Pigs, which are neither really red nor really pigs.
This might work out.
The galaxy is full of surprises.
This planet is very nearly lifeless – scant vegetation, only a few lifeforms, most of the water heavily salinated, burning sun. Humans COULD live there, but only as a last resort.
Yet our first probe found life and civilization.
Not a lot – and it turns out not CONSTANT civilization. No, this place boasts an impressive natural cave system, and in there it turns out there’s a vast smugglers’ hideout.
We left a sneak-probe and took some notes.
I’m starting to think some other civilization is using Subsector 23 as a dump.
Ok, that’s not the weirdest part of 7-23-2. The weirdest part is that the dump – decommissioned ships, from the looks of it, gunners and cargo ships – is set up like we’d set up something with no breathable atmosphere. Double airlock on a dome near the landing bay, a deep underground facility staffed by five life-signs.
Yet the air here is perfect for human life and on the other side of the plant, away from the desert and the dump, is lush, green terrain.
What DO these aliens breathe?
The lightning storms! The wild lightning arcing across the northern hemisphere of this planet! It’s beautiful, albeit deadly.
But the southern hemisphere is just as rich in metal as the northern, and there are wide grasslands and hilly regions between the mountains. The soil might be shallow; there’s metal close to the surface everywhere. But very large herbivores and rather large carnivores roam the surface, even in the north. This planet can sustain life.
We sent a team to see just how MUCH life.
This last star system on the edge of the sector might explain much about the entire sector.
We found a dead planet covered in ruins first, and then a planet almost suitable for humanoid life – covered in far newer ruins. Its satellites – three – were covered in the detritus of what looked liked several wars.
On the far side of the last satellite, we found a small grouping of aliens still alive. We sent down a greeting probe and, with it, a query: Did they need aid or rescue?
They shot a rocket at our ship and nearly managed to hit us.
7.23.3