these high metal walls, covered with frost and dried oil, gave a feeling of alienation and loneliness to everyone passing here. This was outpost 3, in the corridor of which there were always solid-looking doors. And it was true, even a strong knock on the doors did not cause a tremor along these pieces of iron, as if it were part of those walls, which had absorbed so much cold and someone's screams... If you do not count the conversations of workers playing the fool - no, a game of goat.

humming something under his breath and holding a key card in his metal hand, his steps echoed with a light crunch on some snowdrifts here and there, under the light hum of joints. Khan returned with tools, noticing a malfunction in one of the systems. It was hard to tell if he was tired, but his movements and the white eyes on the visual showed a neutral expression, except for the slight grunt or whistle coming from his mouth.