The noise was as deafening as it was diverse. The sound of metal gears turning, saws cutting, mechanical arms squealing, and metal scrap crashing to the floor with a heavy thud. The Wakefield factory was a never ending symphony of loud, unsynchronized instruments pounding away without any sense of rhythm. Even with earmuffs, working on the factory floor was only barely tolerable. It had long been rumored that the factory could get so loud workers could actually get concussed from the soundwaves alone. Though in the two years she had been there, Mara had never actually seen that happen to anyone.

Silly legends aside, the Wakefield Factory was nonetheless an unpleasant working environment. In addition to all the noise, the heat in the facility was unbearable. Between the constant movement and the exhaust from all the heavy machinery, Mara was dripping sweat throughout her entire shift. The Factory was largely automated with massive pieces of metal traveling down the wide conveyors to be worked on and cut by various mechanical arms. By the end of the assembly line, they had been shaped into the hull plating for the spacecraft that were constructed at the shipyard.

The process was messy, resulting in large chunks of scrap metal dropping to the floor beneath the conveyor system. Mara's job was to collect that scrap so that it can be melted down and recycled for other projects in the factory. The runner, as the position was called, was a bottom level position. So much so that it wasn't even handled by actual employees. The job was handled by temps like Mara, though she could certainly see why none of the full time employees wanted to do it.

Much of the scrap metal was as large as Mara herself and Mara was not a short girl, she actually stood a bit taller than a lot of the guys in the facility. She would crawl under the conveyors and drag the scrap out with gloved hands along with whatever partner she had been assigned with that day, hoping that bits of scrap wouldn't fall right on top of them. They would then load up the scrap into large wheeled containers called 'boats'. The boat wasn't that heavy on its own while it was empty but, by the time they had completed just one loop around the factory floor, it had required the combined strength of Mara and her partner to move.

Once the boat was full, it was time to take the scrap to the recycling center tucked away in the corner of the facility. The benefit of this is that, once there, Mara could remove her hardhat and earmuffs. In the heat of the Wakefield factory, the relief of allowing her head to breathe never got old for Mara. After handing the boat over to the recycling engineers, Mara and Jose, the man she had been paired with on this shift, walked over to the water fountain. They took turns getting a drink and splashing cold water on their faces. More sweet relief.

"Another hard day at the office?" One of the recycling engineers remarked as he helped load the boat into an automated machine that would carry it to the forge. That question did get old for Mara seeing how often she heard it but, thankfully, she didn't have to answer it this time.

"Yeah, just another day." Jose answered.

Mara splashed some more water on her face while Jose went ahead and grabbed an empty boat so they could start all over again. And, with a sigh, Mara put her hardhat and earmuffs back on and joined Jose to go back out to the factory floor.

It was a simple routine they went through, grabbing an empty boat and making the round across the factory floor. The first few stops on the lap had relatively small pieces of scrap, so only one person needed to crawl down and collect them. Jose looked at Mara and signed. "I go first."

"I go second." Mara signed back. They had to use sign language to communicate on the factory floor to communicate, it was so loud. "We trade places like before."

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This was only the second time Mara had worked with Jose and she needed to make sure he followed the right procedure. The first time she had worked with him, he had tried to show off by doing most of the work and was falling over from exhaustion by the end of the shift. He learned the hard way that it was best to keep a balanced pace on the factory floor.

Jose signed back, confirming that he understood, and crawled under the conveyors. As Mara waited, some of the full-time employees walked by. They looked down on temps, often calling them a variety of derogatory names behind their backs. With Mara, they had only one name and they were more than happy to say it right to her face.

"Traitor's Blood!"

They would say it loudly to ensure that Mara could hear them over the noise. She didn't give them any reaction to them as they threw a few more insults at her.

Jose reemerged from the conveyors and shot the full-timers a look while tossing some scrap into the boat. The full-timers just laughed and marched off. Jose signed to Mara. "You ok?"

"I am fine." Mara signed back and the two of them carried on with their day,

Mara went under at the next stop. She collected the scrap while the conveyors squealed above her. The pieces were smaller than the ones she would be grabbing later down the route, but they were sharp and still needed to be handled with care even with thick gloves. Mara also had to be mindful of other pieces falling down on her which was always a risk. But she had gotten good at protecting herself in what was simply a very dangerous and hostile working environment. With her turn done, the two of them moved on.

At the third stop, Jose went back down while Mara rested her arms on the edge of the boat. She looked around the massive factory as she waited for Jose to return. The hull plates that were being constructed were so massive and, even at the slow pace of the conveyor, a good number traveled down the conveyors every day. At the annual meeting held at the beginning of the year, it was announced that the factory had produced enough components to build 4 new ships in addition to the repairs made on the existing ships the previous year.

It was hard to believe that all that time and effort only produced 4 new vessels, down from the 6 ships constructed the year before that. The executive manager of the factory was quick to point out to everyone that the reduced number was the result of the larger ship designs put out by Union High-Command. The ships were all military, of course, mostly frigates and cruisers. No fighters though. There were fighters stationed at Wakefield but they weren't built here. Mara wasn't sure which city was responsible for those but then, she didn't really care.

At 24, Mara was just old enough to remember that Wakefield didn't construct military vessels at all. Some of the cities were known for supporting the then limited military force, but Wakefield was known for its line of luxury liners for civilian cruises around ringed planets and beautiful gas giants. There were annual events around the reveal of the ships, contests to see which famous engineer would design it and which architect would handle the interior. It was Wakefield's holiday season.

Nowadays, the main question was how much bigger the guns were. Those were assembled in a different sector of the Wakefield factory. Mara worked that line on occasion but she didn't enjoy the sight of it. At least on the hull line she could pretend shipbuilding was still about the art and beauty. It did get slightly harder for Mara to do that however each and every day she worked on the floor. And, with Rhea Day coming up, it was virtually impossible to view shipbuilding as anything but what it actually was.

Mara shook her head at the thought and then it suddenly dawned on her...Jose had been under the conveyor system for too long. She stepped away from the empty boat and knelt down to see Jose struggling to crawl his way back. Something was clearly wrong. Mara frantically scurried under the conveyors towards him and quickly began to see the blood spilling from his neck. A sharp piece of scrap had fallen from the conveyor line above and sliced him. If he had screamed, it would've been impossible for anyone to hear him. Mara dragged him, trying to reassure him that she would help him but her voice couldn't beat the machines.

Jose's eyes were already starting to grow dim as Mara made sure he was applying enough pressure to his neck. She sprinted over to the red emergency button nearby, pressed it, and ran straight back to him. She quickly signed. "Help is coming."

Jose barely registered a response before losing consciousness, Mara pressed down on the side of his neck. The floor managers rushed over with others...too late. Jose was already dead.