Shadow drew a short, stubby black tube from her belt and pointed it at each corner of the panel. With a pop of equalizing pressure, it came free. Beyond lay a vague space, dimly lit in blue. “Everyone through,” she said. Art squeezed inside with the others. As Shadow turned and resealed the wall plate, he looked around.
They were in some kind of old service corridor, or maybe it had served no other purpose than to allow construction crews access to this part of the ship. The light came from small blue hemispheres that Art knew well: they were an emergency form of lighting that could last for decades—as clearly these had.
Phillip consulted his data reader. “This parallels the main corridor until the junction of the next Hab boom. Ends there, but there’s a shaft Coreward. Should take us to
