THE FOLLOWING CONTENTS BELONGS TO THE DIGGER'S CONGLOMERATE - ALL METHODS OF COPYING AND REDISTRIBUTING ARE PROHIBITED AND THEREFORE SUSCEPTIBLE TO AND UNDER THE JURISDICTION OF STATEMENT 12, SECTION 3 OF THE SUBTERRAINIC LAW.

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The robotic voice ended, a dull ring follows through inside your head, signifying the sheer volume that came from the speaker. A small music chime plays after-ward.

You sat there on the metallic chair, provided by the trusty station provisioner. The people and xenoids around you, whispering in various tones and dialects - the room is quickly filled with noises. You look at the LED clock on the wall; 0900, it says. Your stomach ties in knots.


The airlock of the room opens, directing all attention towards it - from the laid-backs to the worried. A small, cubic shaped, green droid, lazily floats into the room.