Balisk waited behind the service door like a machine built from bad jokes and worse injuries.
It filled the next chamber from floor to ceiling. The front looked like a furnace throat laid on its side, wide enough to take the case if nobody cared about comfort. Two round inspection lenses sat above the throat, clouded with old grease. A row of rollers lined the lower jaw, each one wrapped in blackened leather and scored by years of heavy loads.
"That is lunch furniture's older and meaner relative," Blue said.
JJ kept her sword between Balisk and Ty without pretending the sword meant much.
"Tell me it moves cases and not people," JJ said. "Lie only if the lie helps us pick a door."
Blue stepped closer with Marcus's bit held in front of her like a credential.
"It is a receiving machine for heavy worker rail loads," she said. "A big one. The worker rail brings heavy loads here for inspection before they leave the wall."
