Quark cleared his throat as the reward distribution appeared:
- Qianlong: 1000 credits
- Aina: 600 credits
- Jones: 400 credits
"All teams will converge on your sector for mining operations. Fat Fish lands at coordinates 451-726 in four hours."
Aina acknowledged with a terse "Confirmed."
The reward sounded substantial, but Qianlong knew better—1000 credits might buy a few decent meals, nothing more.
As they moved toward the mining zone, another Reaper team intercepted them.
"Well if it isn't lucky Aina's crew," jeered the lead mech, designation JG-7.
Jones bristled. "Got a problem, Jamget?"
"Just admiring how rookies get carried to bonuses." The opposing mech took an aggressive step forward. "Want to prove you actually earned it?"
Qianlong watched in disbelief. Private duels were strictly prohibited—the fines could bankrupt a miner, not to mention jail time. Yet here they stood, actuators primed for combat.
Aina's Reaper suddenly slammed between the two factions. "Stand down. Or I file a formal complaint about your last 'accidental' ore destruction."
Jamget's smirk vanished. "We were just joking." The rival team retreated as more Reapers arrived.
The Fat Fish descended like a steel thundercloud, its belly opening to disgorge massive equipment crates that impacted the ground like artillery shells.
Mission Update:
- Team Aina: Establish mining drill at current coordinates
- Teams 2-5: Deploy to secondary sites
Though seemingly assigned the heaviest workload, their team actually received favoritism—this site's ore density would double their commission. No one protested; Quark's friendship with Aina was an open secret.
Three grueling days followed. Qianlong learned to assemble the towering drill rig under Phantom's guidance, while Jones revealed industry truths between yawns:
"That 1% commission? Gone before you see it. Medical levies, mech maintenance fees..." He punched the activation switch. The drill bit screamed as it chewed into bedrock.
"Fraud?" Qianlong asked.
Aina ejected a spent coolant cartridge. "Perspective. Some work twice as hard for half our pay. Survive three years, and you'll retire comfortable."
Above them, a lone sentry mech patrolled—Hyperion's cost-cutting left minimal security for remote operations.
As the drill vomited its first load of titanium-chromite slurry, Qianlong finally understood:
The real storm wasn't in the atmosphere.