"Maybe?" Garrot sighs, forceful and harsh at Luka's optimism. Clearly he disagrees. "Gyre said it'll take about a year for the planet to die after Sxicq leaves." He's matter-of-fact, aggressively blunt about it. The doctor wants to be optimistic, but it's hard looking at forty years of missed opportunities.
"Unless government black-sites across the world have been hiding decades of work..." Garrot's voice has turned stern, uncompromising, lecturing. He is a brilliant mind when he wants to be. "...Our greatest minds would have to decipher space travel and then mass produce it. That means gathering supplies, making what we don't have, and preparing an entire world to uproot their lives." There's another gruff little scoff, though it's clear he's not aiming any of this at Luka.
"And what if we need some chemical compound that's rare or that we can't recreate in that time?" But he sighs, staring down at the sand. Being the buzzkill sucks, but... "Even if we can convince him, it might be too late for him to help."
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"Unless government black-sites across the world have been hiding decades of work..." Garrot's voice has turned stern, uncompromising, lecturing. He is a brilliant mind when he wants to be. "...Our greatest minds would have to decipher space travel and then mass produce it. That means gathering supplies, making what we don't have, and preparing an entire world to uproot their lives." There's another gruff little scoff, though it's clear he's not aiming any of this at Luka.
"And what if we need some chemical compound that's rare or that we can't recreate in that time?" But he sighs, staring down at the sand. Being the buzzkill sucks, but... "Even if we can convince him, it might be too late for him to help."
Damn, dude.