The heavy iron door of his workshop groaned open, admitting a blast of the metallic air and a tall figure wrapped in a dark, synth-leather duster. Silas didn’t look up. The rhythm of the visitor's boots on the metal grating told him everything he needed to know. It was Commander Vaelen of the Core Guard.
Vaelen stepped over to Silas, looking down at the shivering Weaver. The commander checked his wrist display and nodded. "Forty years of data, perfectly intact. Remarkable."
Silence filled the chamber, broken only by the steady beep of the backup drives signaling a successful transfer.