“Why don’t you use the loaders?” Gasper asked, gesturing to the large, rusty droid in the corner of the docking bay.
“Hasn’t worked in years,” one of the porters responded, running his hand through his greasy hair before picking up one of the large crates and carrying it into the ship.
The porters’ struggled with the crates, taking frequent breaks. Despite their air masks, they gasped for air, lungs destroyed by the red dust covering everything on the planet. Gasper shook his head. He would be happy to get off this dump of a planet. He coughed despite the respirator.