The eight hours of jostling and engine noise finally ceased. As the hatch of the Iron Mule freighter hissed open, a wave of cold air washed over them—starkly different from the mine's atmosphere—multilayered filtered and circulated air, cold and tinged with the scent of antiseptic.
They disembarked in a vast ore warehouse sector. Beneath a massive dome, automated cranes and conveyor belts moved silently, ferrying marked ore chunks from the ship's hold towards a distant processing plant. The raw, dust-choked grit of the mine was absent, replaced by an order so efficient it was almost suffocating.
"Welcome to civilization, I guess," David muttered, tugging at his slightly grease-stained jacket, feeling out of place against the mirror-finish metal floors.
Following the signs, they entered
