The Heart didn't do "hangars" the way other places did. It did temples that pretended to be gyms.
Alteea led them into a hall where the white wasn't empty but hungry. The floor was broken into lanes with embedded rails and shallow grooves - panels on the walls retracted and advanced like breath. A ceiling grid could open and close into chimneys of air. It looked designed for people who launched themselves across space and wanted the building to help.
"It's called a traversal gallery" Alteea said, glasses glinting. "Engineers built it for staff-users who blast themselves instead of walking like the rest of us. Perfect for bruising egos with safety foam."
Saffi ghosted in behind her, slate ready.
Esen rolled his shoulders as if the room had been invented to flatter him. His rings clicked softly, settling along his fingers. "You can save the spectacle. I move quite fine."
Keahi made a thoughtful noise. "He does move fine. Like a very enthusiastic flea."
