Hammerdown Yards

Hammerdown Yards is the center of shipbreaking and scrap recycling in the Solar System, a pock-marked stretch of rocky Phobos, filled with pools of corrosive chemicals, littered with the cast off remains of thousands of broken-down vessels and equipment. Torn bulkheads rain down from above, while fragments of fractured viewscreens - razor sharp - glimmer in the red light reflected from Mars hanging overhead. Despite its limited atmosphere, the air is thick with cordite, sulphury fumes, and the distinct tang of burning metal. The noise would be deafening, if the workers - Scrappers, as they're better known - hadn't long-since learned to turn off their audio receptors. Between the grind of cutters slicing through armor plating, the roar of loaders filling dumpsters full of usable parts for further processing, and the regular thump of a dilapidated ship being beached on the surface, the rattle and din of the place is enough to shake someone's bearings loose. It is dirty, dangerous, and foul.
In short: it sucks. It's also home.
For Scrappers, Hammerdown is the big leagues, by far the most expansive shipbreaking yard amongst the Inner Planets. Getting a job there - and not getting smashed, melted, or otherwise obliterated - is about the best a menial labor mech can hope for. There's little reason to leave, unless the danger and noise become too much. Limited upgrade parts are provided, towers of charging berths with high-speed entertainment connections, and a certain level of prestige that comes from working at the premier site for this kind of work - even if it does come with more than its share of horrible sights and smells.
And it is all Hall-3562 has ever known.

Type

Slum