36: Deva
Deva
It wasn’t as hard as she’d imagined. The maintenance ducts ran through each carriage, and while she had to crawl, there was no way she’d describe them as a tight fit. Some of the metalwork was rough, and a couple of times Deva almost cut herself, tore her sleeve on one edge.
There were vents in the duct. They let in the cold, but also a thin light. Deva would’ve preferred her shoulder-torches, but the light from the vents gave her enough to work with.
The trickiest moments were in moving from carriage to carriage. There was an end-panel that opened with a bit of work from her screwdriver, and then Deva was outside. The mag-line screamed past beneath her, and she didn’t know if it was the wind or the power that set her skin tingling.
Scenery flew by, icy cold, a blur of w
