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Darien wrinkled his nose as the heavy smell of petro-chemicals and air scrubbers washed over him. A faint semi-artificial breeze made up of wind and oxygen circulators ruffled his thick dark hair like a playful ghost. All around him people swarmed like a living sea, flowing between the clustered Bloc-Dwellings with the ease of experience. He watched with a sense of amazement. It was hard to believe that an industrial cesspit like this could hide the potential for something truly remarkable.

"What a mess," Amber commented dryly, looking around her with an expression of faint disgust stamped on her soft features. She had her normally flowing locks of black hair tied back into a ponytail, as though she thought that might limit its exposure to the smog-filled air.

"Takes all sorts," he replied. "Most High-Belt colonies are like this." Despite his words, he agreed with her. Marnill was a classic example of what happened when the colonial powers-that-be prioritised utility over humanity. With three billion inhabitants crammed into half a dozen sprawling, hive-like cities, this planet pumped out enough raw materials to supply a whole colonial network, but that came at a price for those who lived there. On Marnill you worked hard and lived harder. Given the choice he wouldn't have come with in a billion miles of the place, but orders were orders.

With Amber trudging reluctantly by his side, he picked his way through the masses toward the nearest ram-station. People piled in around them on all sides as they entered the barrel-shaped structure, getting jostled and shoved around in the thronging masses. It was all he could do not to start slamming elbows left and right, and he could almost feel Amber's frustration. But right now they had to deal with it. The last thing they needed on a delicate operation like this was to start a brawl.

As the crush got worse she hooked her arm through his to keep them from being separated. He led her on, following the human flow down a broad rampway and toward the crammed box-like construction of one of the transit-rams. The huge machine filled the platform, a three-levelled carrier fifty feet long, packed to the seams with commuters. Darien dragged his companion through the nearest door and carved out a tiny nook of space as the rest of the citizens piled in around them.

Amber gave him a disgusted look. "How do people live like this," she said under her breath.

"Not everyone was as lucky as you," he reminded her. "Illuvari's the exception, not the rule."

She pulled a sour face but didn't press the point. He understood her feelings regardless. Whichever way you looked at it, Marnill was not a nice place to be.

Eventually the monstrous transit ram hit capacity and the plates beneath Darien's feet shuddered as its immense engines roared into life. The superstructure groaned and shook as they set off through the honeycomb of ram-lines that criss-crossed Marnill's capital.

"So where's our target?" Amber asked quietly, hunching herself back against the walls as though it would protect her from the smell of sweat and body odour that hung in the air.

"If we've timed this right-," he winked. "-and we have, she'll be finishing a shift at one of the blasting plants. We'll catch her on her way out."

"And then?"

"Then give her the soft sell, see how she takes it...hope for the best."

She smiled thinly. "I love a well-thought-out plan."

The journey on board the transit-ram was mercifully brief, and Darien surged out into the streets again, breathing in the chemical heavy air with relief. They emerged into a humid industrial district, where the heat from the massive cylindrical blasting plants seared through the streets. Wiping beads of sweat from his brow, Darien pulled a small console from his jacket. He thumbed the activation switch and the palm sized screen burst into life, showing a three dimensional layout of the local streets.

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