After driving for another 15 minutes, I bacame aware of the scent as well, along with the sound of machinery. I chose this moment to pull over and parked the jeep behind a low dune. Signalling Swiftrunner to follow me, I jogged up the dune, stopping at the top to peer over, then crossed the peak. We passed over three more dunes in this fashion before I cautiously looked over the peak of the last one, and found a fenced off compound laid out before us, complete with mine shaft, ore carts, and people milling around like ants. Lying on my belly I drew my binoculars from my pack, and began to study the compound.
"I'm counting at least twelve guards. They look like militia. Hard bastards, but they're no SAS. Still, neither are we, so lets not get overconfident." I panned back across the compound.
"Hmm. The people pushing the carts don't look like they're in very good condition. They're emaciated, weak looking. I see blacks, but also white people, Asians, a few ethnicities. I doubt those people are working for payment, or of their own free will." As I watched, one of the workers collapsed, his cart rolling to a halt. One of the guards was on him in an instant, kicking him and cursing. The worker struggled to rise, but couldn't. The guard, losing his patience, drew a pistol from his belt, and shot him through the head.
"Bastards" I hissed, holding up the binoculars so Swiftrunner could see what had happened.