Zarados awoke in a daze, his entire body ached, and he shivered with the morning cold. Even with the heating tubes surrounding him he felt the cold in all his bones. Zarados stood and made his way to the ensuite, in there he washed his face with the lukewarm water and changed into the only other pair of undergarments he had. He took his dirty clothes he had worn for the better part of his journey on Azios-2, with sweat, ice, dirt, and other grime having spoiled the previously comfortable shirt. He attempted to wash them however the lukewarm water had now turned half frozen in the pipe. Water flowed out in small spurts before stopping. The pipe must have frozen. Zarados sighed out of frustration, and made his way towards the heating rack, which was just a rust-coloured metallic pipe which radiated insignificant amounts of heat and he placed his now half wet clothes on it to dry. While he waited, he began to pack his things, if he was caught staying longer than he paid for then the consequences could be dire. A trip to the colonies would not be pleasent.

When his clothes seemed mostly dry, lest they be half frozen, Zarados made his way downstairs and then out onto the open street. The morning air felt sharp on his skin, like his face would be cut if he dared move. As he made his way towards the inner parts of the settlement, Zarados saw a bundled figure sitting in a chair. The figure waved to him to come closer. Zarados walked towards the figure, cautious to appear non-threatening and calm. As he approached, he saw the figure was frail, and small, like the thin twigs of cave shrubs. The figure began to speak, and in a hoarse voice said,

"Care to buy from me, traveller?" 

"What would you be selling?" Zarados replied, unable to decipher if this was male or female,

"Morsels, and other odd parts," the figure croaked,

Zarados lamented on how hungry he was, before saying, "How much for something to eat?

"Two credits for a quarter, seven for it all," the figure croaked, "I need the credits or plasma more than I need this food,"

"I can pay five credits and give you thirteen nights worth of plasma," Zarados said, feeling a deep sadness for this figure's condition.

"Five credits and ten nights, keep some for yourself," the figure said, a faint smile wriggling underneath the mask which covered the mouth,

"Deal, I'll take what you've got," said Zarados, it appeared that kindness did indeed live in some people, no matter how rare,

"Excellent," the figure said before straining to move, there was a faint clicking sound much like a rusted hinge and some cracking could be heard. The figure winced and cursed as they turned back to face Zarados. The figure held a small bowl of greenish frozen liquid, there was a heating element wrapped onto the bottom of the bowl.

"You'll just have to heat this over some plasma" said the figure, pain lacing their voice, "Stay with me and cook, I could use the heat, and the company."

"Of course," replied Zarados, he felt hungrier than ever before now that he had food.

The figure turned on a small heating stove which burned plasma in a small, concentrated flame, the flame leapt up with energy which seemed foreign on this forsaken world. Zarados placed the small stove underneath the bowl and watched as the heating element glowed. This liquid would take a while to melt, so conversation seemed in order. 

Turning to the figure, Zarados asked, "So, how's it living out here?

"Same as always, it seems to get worse every passing day, it gets colder, even longer, and much more painful," the figure grimaced, an aura of sadness floated within tired eyes.

"So why live here? Why not take a commerical shuttle out? Do they still fly out here?" Zarados asked, feeling that this was a stupid question... it was.

"Nowhere else to go, I am old, and broken. Shuttles don't come to this accursed place, everyone who did was raided or scrapped by the slaver guilds," the figure said grimly, "I would know,"

"Oh, I'm so sorry, I didn't know," said Zarados, guilt whipping his insides.

"No matter, it's all done and in the past. I suppose the cybernetics help keep the cold from me bones," the figure said sardonically.

Zarados felt the next question he wanted to ask burning in his mind, before he could stop himself, he blurted out, "Cybernetics?" 

"Of course, I am an escapee from Colony twenty," the figure said, revealing a pair or artificial legs, the ligaments on the left one was torn after decades of abuse. The metal looked bent in some areas and the hinges and joints looked frozen solid. 

"I had no idea," said Zarados quietly, his guilt gnawing at him.

"Your food is boiling," the figure said, dropping the topic and covering up.

Zarados drank the liquid down, it tasted foul but was so warm that he could not gag or stop. To be picky here was foolish and beckoning death. When he was finished, Zarados said to the figure, "I must be gone soon, thank you very kindly for your hospitality." 

The figure did not reply, instead nodded before looking away lost in sad thoughts. Zarados stood and walked off in the direction of the cargo port and his way off Azios-2. After walking in the harsh emptiness of the ice plains, Zarados saw in the distance, an obelisk towering above the plain. Jets of bluish vapour poured out into the sky, and clouds of steam pumped out of the sides as moving parts slithered in rhythm over one another. Truly these were monsters, hideous yet magnificent in their operation. Silent, yet omnipresent. Zarados glanced at his map, trying to establish a heading for himself. His map pointed him a few degrees to his right, away from the distant obelisk and icy shelf, hopefully towards the cargo port. He started on his way.

Zarados made it just as the late afternoon came, the sun burning a brilliant pink in the sky. The cargo port sat like a dark grey, and bluish bowl, dug into the ground. Zarados scanned for any potential problems, none were seen. He walked down into the huge dish, and as he did so he found himself surrounded by ancient ships many being held together by the frozen rivets. Many had missing panels and their innards ripped out, piles of scrap littered the field. There were overturned crates with their contents spilling out, all ancient relics from a time long past. Zarados walked in a graveyard frozen in time, a display of the cruelty of the world and its ability to destroy everything which was created. As he made his way deeper into the yard, he spotted it, his shuttle. This contrasting notion to the world which surrounded him gave him a slightly warm feeling, as if he was off this frozen waste of a planet. 

"Time to go," said Zarados to himself, as he walked to his ship.