The air was cool, and the feeling of hard tarmac underfoot was a great relief. Warm sunlight filtered through a ramshackle array of power conductors, and Dar-Eshul took a deep breath, relishing the freedom of the outside world. The trip to Marol had been his first experience of space travel - an exciting but arduous journey.
A number of eager-faced youths loitered around the cargo hatch, waiting for their precious belongings. Dar-Eshul had only the bag on his back and the clothes he wore. He wandered towards the crowd, hoping to strike up a conversation. A voice rang out.
"Alright, alright. You'll get your bags soon enough." He was a large man, with thick stubble and hands black with grease. His hair was a mess, and there were a number of patches sewn unevenly onto his overalls. "The name's Kandra. My job here at Base Marol is turn you lanky young'uns into experienced 'mine technicians'." There was a quiet murmur of laughter. "Follow me, I'll show you around the village."
Kandra led the group from the tarmac, through corridors that smelt of sweat and diesel. A lot of the generators looked pretty ancient, and Dar-Eshul wondered how safe they were. The tour passed by processors, sifters, extractors and workshops, until finally they reached the tarmac once more. "To your right is the lead warehouse. We sort product into boxes, pack 'em into containers and..." the sound of heavy lift drives drowned Kandra out, and he frowned at the sky. Several mechanics buzzing around the tarmac stopped and stared also. A large, black transport ship was coming down, fast. Dar-Eshul could just pick out the sounds of gun-turrets activating as the mechanics began to scatter. Kandra was motioning frantically, urging the young recruits to take cover.
The ground leapt beneath their feet as the craft hit the ground, and as he fled into the warehouse Dar-Eshul saw a mechanic leap for a switchbox. Within seconds, power was cut, and a blaster spat death from the mechanic's hands. Turrets shot forth from the sides of the black transport. Dar-Eshul looked desperately for a place to hide – a barrel, a few scattered boxes on the ground, and a half-stocked container beyond. As gunfire roared behind him, he leapt for the container and shut his eyes tightly.
It wasn't long until the barrage ended and the power returned. All was ominously quiet until someone bumped against the container – a blaster was fired, and a figure collapsed before the entry hatch, rifle skidding noisily across the concrete. A long moment passed before the hatch slammed closed.
Movement. The container shuddered and jerked oddly, lurching along uneven rails. For what felt like hours the container shook and stumbled, bolts clamped and ground against the metal frame, and then the whir and hiss of pulleys and boosters. Weak with terror, Dar-Eshul lay silent and unmoving amongst box and crate. Then came a rumble, and the world shook. Dar-Eshul was pressed into the cold floor, and the world floated away.