Temperate Command Center "LUOSTARI-JO GOGOMO." On a suitably high balcony of the gilded but otherwise functional structure, our dear crone stands almost indistinguishable in black, unnaturally fuzzy furs from head to toe. To her right in pristine white stands the diminutive and alien Other Rabbit; left, decked in crimson lined military cold weather gear, a pot-bellied Ealurian with fine spectacles brushes ice from his neatly trimmed mustache. Behind them all looms the silently cylindrical kameira, blotting out the walls of the command center with his formidable bulk.
Below on the tarmac, cadres of stoic employees wait patriotically in the cold for twelve long torso choir boys to finish the State anthem. At its conclusion, Deteis with immaculate and identical blond crew cuts lead units of co-workers through morning calisthenics, chanting "Go Go Go.. GO-GO-MO" in flawless unison.]
"The supply lines are unusually long, of course," observes the Ealurian after some time. "This consumes more power than may otherwise be necessary, limiting our total productive capacity."
As it must be, my dear Dr. Mheket, to extend our good fortune to as much of the troubled surface as possible! Bacteria, proteins, and biofuels - a humble but necessary beginning to a glorious journey of medical science!
"The characteristics of this planet are most intriguing," agrees the good Doctor. "Will the Brutor be delivering biomass from Aphi III? We will need it to begin on the viral agents necessary for our vaccination work. With so much die-off, disease presents a serious threat."
Never have so manky plankton given their all for such a good cause!
[The crone breathes in deeply.]
Oh, dear. I think I just froze my lungs. "Temperate" my, well, you get the picture.
"Yes, madam," agrees the cylindrical kameira.
Right then, everyone inside! Boys! Boys! This way. Warm one another up. Tea! Tea, please!
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