Hadoga (0507, E85A347-5)
A strip of sparse atolls and archipelagos run around the equator—the rest of the planet is open ocean. One of the largest islands holds Hadoga City, which houses nearly the entire permanent population. Flora and fauna are sparse on land, largely replaced by meager off-world crops and livestock. All the native biodiversity exists in the water.
The main industries on Hadoga revolve around oil. Riggers take three-month tours on drilling platforms, others work the refineries and shipping warehouses. Everything, or nearly, is controlled by the SanOil corporation. Even the government, ostensibly an elected body, is full of their appointees. Most SanOil employees on Hadoga, and therefore most residents, sell their votes to the company for extra cash. The practice is not, in the strictest sense, illegal.
Travel between islands and out to the rigs is costly and inconvenient, mostly by hovercraft. Boats have a tendency to become prey to marine megafauna on the open ocean. Most communication happens by handheld radio—every local has one on their person at all times, and gossip spreads quickly.
Patrons
- Natalie Crenne, Local Liaison for SanOil Industrial
Everyone in town points you to the planetary SanOil liaison if you're looking for work. A three-month tour nets you 40,000 Cr your first time out, increasing by 5% each subsequent tour (less any penalties for profit loss). Please fill out this form declaring your next-of-kin, just in case.
Natalie is secretly embezzling company money. She over-reports needs and under-reports supplies, and she pockets the difference. Everyone in town suspects she's skimming, but it's just talk. Because she works this outpost alone and with no local oversight, she has taken only the barest measures to protect this fact from anyone rifling through her computer console. She'd pay dearly to protect this secret, if it seemed likely to make it back to her bosses—up to 100,000 Cr.
- Gretch Talsin, Bartender and Air Traffic Control
For people landing on Hadoga, the first voice they're likely to hear is Gretch's, animated and gruff over the ship comms, as she clears them for landing. She might also be the first person they meet, if they're thirsty enough. Proprietor of Hadoga City's best and only public house, she moonlights as a one-woman, make-work air traffic control, mostly because no one else seems especially keen to do it. Her chipper demeanor never wavers, even in the face of her customers' dawning horror as they realize Hadoga has only one alcoholic drink: Gretch's World-Famous Hadoga-Style Gin. She serves it two ways: in a glass, or in a bottle.
She complains to anyone who will listen about losing her supply of blue kelp, which she insists is the secret ingredient that makes her gin go down so smooth. "Without blue kelp," she asks an unresponsive bar, "is it even Hadoga-style gin?" She seems to think not. If she believes you can work discreetly, she supplies you with the location of a large field of blue kelp on an especially shallow stretch of ocean floor to the northwest—an underwater plateau only 250m deep and many miles across. She'll pay 10,000 Cr per ton—two or three tons should suffice until she can set up a more permanent supply.
If you happen to ask about her previous supplier, Gretch blithely tells you he died. It seems the blue kelp field is newly inhabited by aquatic lizards the size of cattle, and their temperament is unpredictable. This fact slipped her mind when she mentioned the job to you. "Poor Dale," she says. "Always assumed he'd die on the rig. Just goes to show."