“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.
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