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This is the first of a series of interviews conducted on the minor planet

AFZ118-28, requisite to the mission of the light jumpship "Gazellier".

Interviews are recorded and transcribed, and relayed to QEC for public record.

The mining colony on minor planet AFZ118-28, much like its host planet, was

never given a true name. Those who work and live here, rather than using the

unwieldy planetary designation, refer to their home among the stars as "Hot

Rock". This name derives from the fact that the primary resource being

extracted, hydrogen, has a nasty habit of exploding when handled improperly.

"Hot Rock incidents" punctuate the historical narrative the locals tell.

Everyone knows someone, or a friend of a someonem, who's run afoul of the safety

standards and paid the - often capital - price for it.

AFZ118-28 has a dense and unwelcoming atmosphere. The people who live and work

here are relegated to their vast indoor compound at all times, except by the use

of a protective suit which can be worn in the outside atmosphere for no more

than a few hours. Extraction itself is done remotely with drone units, however

refining and preperation for shipping is still overseen by human hands owing to

the rather ancient nature of the equipment they are outfitted with. The Hot Rock

doesn't see a lot of visitors. Save for the occasional hauler ferrying away the

products of their efforts, the laborers and their families sit more-or-less

alone in their stellar neighborhood, relying on their own hydroponics and

livestock systems to maintain themselves in an adequate self-sufficience.

Ainlen Delorrey is a dock operator with an uncharacteristic softness about them.

Their voice and demeanor pose a striking contrast to the rather dangerous nature

of the work they do. We meet at the commissary-cum-cafe to talk over a pot of

tea.

---

Not bad huh? One of the folks who came up initially was a big fan of tea back

home, brought some clippings with her on the journey here. We grow it in the

community hydroponics bay. I was always more of a coffee person myself, but,

being a fair few lightyears from earth, I'm not going to complain about a nice

little treat like this. It's grown on me. I like the roasted tea we make from the

late-season leaves the most. Sometimes I get lucky though, a hauler passing

through will have a bit of coffee they're willing to part with. Keeps me from

forgetting the taste. I do wish we had a hot garden, I could try my hand at

parenting a coffee tree. Not that I've had much of a green thumb. I was a

fueling operator before I came here, and before that a warehouse grunt. You

know, a bit of a meathead.

(At this, they smirk and make a mocking 'flexing' motion.)

I'm not even sure why I put in the job-transfer request to come up here. I think

I just got bored. Needed a change of scenery. Apparently that change was from a

vibrant life-supporting world to a labrynth of steel-clad hallways and a minor

existential risk of an explosion at any time. You know we're sitting on top of a

massive core of frozen hydrogen? Luckily the planet's atmosphere doesn't have

any oxygen to spark an explosion, but, once it's in the refinery it becomes a

real risk. We had a small incident a few weeks ago when a piece of refining

equipment failed and caused a spark. Luckily no one was nearby, but we lost a

few hundred tonnes of hydrogen in the subsequent leak the blast caused. All in

all pretty mundane compared to some of the other stories people around here will

tell ya.

So, dock work, right? Not the most exciting stuff honestly, not entirely sure

why you're so interested in chatting with me about it. Those guys in refining

have way better stories. They're a solid mix of mad scientists and floor

supervisors angry at the mad scientists. Fun folks to have a drink with.

The sort of dock work I do is just moving stuff from storage to haulers, and

organizing the warehouse stock when there's no ships around. I've got a pretty

good safety record for myself, so it's been pretty dull as far as jobs go.

I have had a close call, though. Exactly one. See, on the smaller ships we can't

use our lifts, since they're designed for large ships, and instead we just have

to use muscle-suits. Real old-fashioned dockwork, picking stuff up and moving it

from point A to point B, piece by piece. Those muscle-suits are helpful but that

sort of work still puts a heck of a lot of strain on your muscles. Luckily we

don't get a whole lot of small ships in here. So, we're loading up this

short-jump hauler. It's only going to the next system over, so I guess the

buyers didn't see fit to pay for a more well-equipped ship. I'm not sure when

this thing was built, but it was missing most of the modern safety provisions

you see on basically any other ship. I'm not even sure why the ground crew

cleared them for loading. They must have been paying a big premium.

Anyways, I'm rambling. The incident. I was carrying a load of hydrogen canisters

over to the ship, grumbling a bit in my head about how much I hate

muscle-loading. Well, I must not have been paying great attention because I hit

the edge of the box against the loading bay door. From what I can guess, that

caused a cansiter head-gasket to fail and, well, gas under pressure likes to

leak. Since this ship didn't have any sensors or failsafes in its cargo bay for

flammables, the leak went unnoticed. We finished loading the ship, and waited

for ground crew to send our customers off to their next destination. Something

must have sparked inside. Because the next thing I see is a giant piece of the

rear doors of the ship making a bee-line for my head. Either there's some kind

of god watching out for me, or my reflexes were just working overtime, but in a

fraction of a second I watched as this giant, angry piece of shrapnel sped

uncomfortably close past my ear. I still remember the weird sort of wave of

pressure I felt as it passed by. The ship was... well, at least the cockpit

safety measures were working. The crew had to spend a good week and a half in

the med quarters recuperating from their burns and explosive shock. I'm not sure

what became of them after they were picked up by their "rescue-ship", but I have

yet to see another ship land for loading that didn't have proper safety sensors.

It's anyone's guess as to wether that's because ground crew won't let 'em land,

or because the people sending them finally got some sense into their heads.

Y'know, I remember when I was in school I read about some explosives mishaps

that happened way way back in the 1920s and 30s. I think I always figured that

was just carelessness. It's not like those little stories went into detail about

the sort of failures-of-the-system to actually take precaution with their cargo.

Didn't even consider it was really a threat, now, y'know, given we've figured

out how to travel hundreds of light years in a sort of ice-bath coma. Guess it's

an easy thing to overlook.

(They look at their wrist, checking the time)

I'm sorry, I've gotta be on shift in a few minutes and I like to take my time

getting ready. Enjoy the tea! If you're still around later in the year, you'll

have to try some of that roast tea I was telling you about.

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