2. Fact file: T’morian Elixir
T’morian Elixir was the single most expensive substance in the known universe. A single drop would cost more than a non-commissioned officer on a battlecruiser could earn in a year. But the effect of that single drop was well worth a year’s salary, in the opinion of NCOs and greater and lesser folk.
Even one drop of elixir made you feel extremely gooooooood. It heightened your sense of pleasure, your physical performance, especially your sexual performance, as has been demonstrated it could even make a Bellerophonican seem sexy (and even other Bellerophonicans struggled to do that, which is why Bellerophon V is so sparsely populated). It appeared to cure everything from the common cold through to Hyadian Gorgopox; it extended life and lust, and, best of all, it did all of these things without bringing about one single adverse side effect. It was only addictive in the same way that sunbathing naked on a yacht on the Golden Sea of Sirius Seven while being attended to by seventeen Sirens from Sirius Seven was addictive – it was so pleasurable that no reasonable person would ever want to stop doing it.
Its only disadvantage was its ridiculously high price. There was only one source of T’morian elixir in the known universe, and that was, well, T’mor. Even on T’mor only a tiny number of people knew how to produce it. It was believed to be derived from an extract of boevobeest milk, a belief that had led to a significant rise in boevobeest rustling, but even the Boffin Bishops of Arcadia, whose brains took up half of their body mass, had been unable to reproduce the elixir from boevobeest milk. Frustrated, they had mortgaged the Arcadian Parliament building, got hold of almost a teaspoonful of real elixir, and mercilessly analysed its chemical components. They then rebuilt it precisely, injected it into a convenient laboratory rat who, apart from yawning, showed no effect whatsoever. A brave boffin injected some into himself, but ended up feeling just as frustrated as he had before, and his secretary looked just as ugly. They had given up in despair, but their despair was short lived, as, fortunately, there was enough genuine elixir left to go around, and the only long term consequence was the difficulty of finding a replacement during the secretary’s maternity leave.
There were of course those that couldn’t wait for a year spent bellowing at ratings on some god-forsaken battlecruiser in order to obtain their drop of precious elixir. These would resort to less conventional and very much less legal means of obtaining the necessary cash. Billions of Galactic Credits disappeared in scams, bank raids, hijackings, and assorted fraudery, most of which ended up in the pockets of His Supreme Excellency Maxwell Erjan Rhodes and those very few employees of the Quadrat Trading Company who, like him, knew how the elixir was really produced. The police were at their wits end. The Cassiopeian Constabulary thought they’d hit on a good plan when they exchanged their laser stun guns for dart guns tipped with a trace of elixir. Effective it certainly was in the short term, the bank raider felt so good that his felonious plans were immediately abandoned, but word soon got around, and in no time at all even respectable old ladies were holding up banks in the hope of getting a shot of elixir. In this, again, they were sadly frustrated, because the Cassiopeian Constables were too busy shooting each other to respond to any calls.
The Elixir of T’mor. Such a potent substance that it completely buggered up the smooth running of an entire galaxy.
T’morian Elixir was the single most expensive substance in the known universe. A single drop would cost more than a non-commissioned officer on a battlecruiser could earn in a year. But the effect of that single drop was well worth a year’s salary, in the opinion of NCOs and greater and lesser folk.
Even one drop of elixir made you feel extremely gooooooood. It heightened your sense of pleasure, your physical performance, especially your sexual performance, as has been demonstrated it could even make a Bellerophonican seem sexy (and even other Bellerophonicans struggled to do that, which is why Bellerophon V is so sparsely populated). It appeared to cure everything from the common cold through to Hyadian Gorgopox; it extended life and lust, and, best of all, it did all of these things without bringing about one single adverse side effect. It was only addictive in the same way that sunbathing naked on a yacht on the Golden Sea of Sirius Seven while being attended to by seventeen Sirens from Sirius Seven was addictive – it was so pleasurable that no reasonable person would ever want to stop doing it.
Its only disadvantage was its ridiculously high price. There was only one source of T’morian elixir in the known universe, and that was, well, T’mor. Even on T’mor only a tiny number of people knew how to produce it. It was believed to be derived from an extract of boevobeest milk, a belief that had led to a significant rise in boevobeest rustling, but even the Boffin Bishops of Arcadia, whose brains took up half of their body mass, had been unable to reproduce the elixir from boevobeest milk. Frustrated, they had mortgaged the Arcadian Parliament building, got hold of almost a teaspoonful of real elixir, and mercilessly analysed its chemical components. They then rebuilt it precisely, injected it into a convenient laboratory rat who, apart from yawning, showed no effect whatsoever. A brave boffin injected some into himself, but ended up feeling just as frustrated as he had before, and his secretary looked just as ugly. They had given up in despair, but their despair was short lived, as, fortunately, there was enough genuine elixir left to go around, and the only long term consequence was the difficulty of finding a replacement during the secretary’s maternity leave.
There were of course those that couldn’t wait for a year spent bellowing at ratings on some god-forsaken battlecruiser in order to obtain their drop of precious elixir. These would resort to less conventional and very much less legal means of obtaining the necessary cash. Billions of Galactic Credits disappeared in scams, bank raids, hijackings, and assorted fraudery, most of which ended up in the pockets of His Supreme Excellency Maxwell Erjan Rhodes and those very few employees of the Quadrat Trading Company who, like him, knew how the elixir was really produced. The police were at their wits end. The Cassiopeian Constabulary thought they’d hit on a good plan when they exchanged their laser stun guns for dart guns tipped with a trace of elixir. Effective it certainly was in the short term, the bank raider felt so good that his felonious plans were immediately abandoned, but word soon got around, and in no time at all even respectable old ladies were holding up banks in the hope of getting a shot of elixir. In this, again, they were sadly frustrated, because the Cassiopeian Constables were too busy shooting each other to respond to any calls.
The Elixir of T’mor. Such a potent substance that it completely buggered up the smooth running of an entire galaxy.
So there is an epidemic of bank robberies by grannies, and pregnant research assistants? 
