transmission detected from 0308.44.9408

The surface of the fourth moon of Han-A is studded with diamonds. An entire hemisphere is pock-marked by the crystals where previously it was smooth and unspoiled. Our leading exo-geologists believe the diamonds were delivered by an asteroid from outside the local system which struck the moon in its planet-facing side. Visitors to Han-A, tourists attracted by the allure of its burgeoning wine districts and renown of its artisanal cocktail-makers, often comment favourably on the shimmer of the moon as the sunset brushed the crystals, setting the moon’s surface alight. The locals, the native vintners and farmers, have a far different view: They remember a time before the asteroid struck, bringing disparity, and they shield their eyes from its degraded, now-hated form.

Regardless of one’s feelings on the matter, the reputation of Han-A as a destination for the discerning drinks enthusiast is well-deserved.  The natives’ mastery of the composition and construction of cocktails is such that no self-respecting bar or tavern in the galaxy doesn’t count a Hannavian among their staff. In this, the first part of Drinks Dromedary’s guide to crafting stellar cocktails, we explain how to make that classic Hannavian aperitif – the Carbon Killer (non-lethal variant).

Carbon Killer (4 servings)


  • 8 oz melon liqueur
  • 4 oz vodka
  • 16 oz pineapple juice
  • Blue food dye
  • Ice
  • Melon ball for decoration

(Of course, were the cocktail being used in its traditional capacity, that which gave it its darkly-comic nomenclature, you’d also need

  • ¼ oz venom of the Musilverfish)

A note on the ice: While simple frozen H2O can be used, many Hannavian bars still choose to use ice mined from iceteroids in the Carbon-clone’s home star system. They do so to maintain as much authenticity as possible, harkening back to the events of the troubles of times-past, when the contingent of clones descended upon Han-A towing their own iceteroids, claiming they “didn’t trust the water on foreign planets”.


  1. Scoop balls of melon flesh from a Han-A-grown melon, freshly cut from the vine
  2. Drop a few cubes of ice into a cocktail glass
  3. Add the liqueur and vodka, and mix well
  4. Add the pineapple juice until the viscosity is around 2 centipoise
  5. Drizzle in the food dye and swirl
  6. Garnish with the melon balls


While we wait for the ingredients to settle, we might take this time to educate ourselves on the history of the Han-A/Carbon feud. The Hannavians are far from the only species to have an antagonistic history with the clones, but they alone made the attempt to exterminate them. While Drinks Dromedary is of course impartial, this writer cannot help but gaze at the gently sloping and still-scarred vistas of Han-A and feel it is a shame they did not succeed in removing more than a few hundred thousand clones from their singly-iterated, extremely shallow gene pool.

The first salvo in the conflict occurred when a contingent of the clones left on what their histor-ebooks variously call the Space Booze Cruise, the Rudeclones Night Out and the Great Hammering of ‘1380. A flotilla of their navy, the Party Boat division, spent the better part of a decade touring solar systems, sampling their nightlife and drinking the natives out of house, home and hemisphere. While the Carbon-clones are universally acknowledged to be boorish, crass, drunken idiots, most of the systems they descended upon welcomed them due in no small part to the Carbons’ vast reserves of riches. The Hannavians, however, recently Contacted and accepted into the Community, were entirely unprepared for the onslaught of excess.

The Carbons, it must be said, have an unerring nose for quality alcohol, and therefore extended their stay on Han-A past the point of graciousness. They tore up fields with their rabble-rousing, painted the streets with expulsed stomach contents and generally made a mess of the place. The Hannavians, naturally, took the completely-understandable decision to poison the Carbons. They organised a party, created a huge batch of the bespoke cocktail and, as the clones hove into view over the horizon, added the venom. Once the cadavers had been disposed of – by means of shooting them into a star, as is the human tradition –  the Hannavians accepted the reprimand from the Community and set about establishing themselves as a more civilised destination for holidaymakers, to all our benefit.

Your cocktail should now be properly mixed. As you raise it to your lips, gaze at your own sky: It will have occurred to the astronomically-inclined reader that, for the diamond asteroid to have struck the moon in its planet-siding face, it must have positively skimmed the atmosphere. Indeed, it has been calculated that a change of a fraction of a degree in the angle of the asteroid’s approach would have caused it to hit Han-A. The damage would have been incalculable. It can therefore be said, without fear of contradiction, that the Hannavians have twice been threatened with destruction by carbon, and have triumphed both times. May we all be so lucky.

To your health! Chin chin!

transmission fragmenting…
transmission lost