Without the illusion, the route to Amaru was shorter than either Dean or Arion had believed.
The corridor that had seemed to curve through a comfortable private residence continued for barely twenty meters before ending at the pair of reinforced glass doors they had seen only after shutting down the synthetic pheromonal system. Clinical lights reflected from seamless grey flooring, and the walls were interrupted at regular intervals by monitoring panels, emergency connections, and narrow observation windows whose darkened glass revealed nothing from their side.
Dean kept his field active anyway.
The artificial atmosphere surrounding the outer section had begun dissipating through the ventilation system, but neither of them knew how much remained trapped inside adjoining rooms or whether shutting down the main output had activated any secondary containment.
Arion walked close enough that his arm occasionally brushed Dean's shoulder.
