"Unless an Andalite tries to use it at the same time, they won't notice a thing." All taken care of, she heads for the door again. "And even if they look, they won't see a thing. The interface is mental, by the way: when you step into the shaft, focus on the words 'deck forty-four' and you'll stop at the right place."

She'll check the corridor again before stepping out into it. This time she mutters a command in Galard to deactivate the lights behind them. She's specifically avoiding the lift where the previous Andalite was waiting, and their luck holds a bit longer. They'll get to the lift unimpeded. It's small comfort, when she knows this is the very easy part.

As she hinted, the lift is an empty shaft, wide and deep enough for a squad of Hork-Bajir; stepping into the air, one is suspended by anti-gravity fields and accelerated to whatever level one thinks of. In this case, it's a very short drop down, and Telrim hardly slows. Habit gets away with her - she's turning as she steps into the shaft and springing out on the lower deck a second later. It's just like the first: a maze of clean, efficient militarism...

Only not quite as empty. The moment Telrim's boots hit the deck she has to jump aside to avoid an Andalite about to step in. She throws herself against the wall with a soft thud and a tiny gasp.