Drift City’s throat. The Slipway is the working waterfront — cargo cranes, rusted drydocks, container stacks, and black-market piers that never close. Everything that enters or leaves the city touches this place first: legal freight, smuggled chrome, wet-market food, and people who paid to disappear.

Corporate security holds the official berths. Everyone else works the unofficial ones. Rain, salt, and weld-sparks mix with neon from brothels, chop-shops, and all-night canteens. If you need a boat, a fake ID, a crate that “fell off” a mag-hauler, or a way out that doesn’t go through the Spires, you come to the Slipway. Stay too long and the water claims you the same way it claims the lower city.