Others could be heard, in the penetralia of the vast structure, coming, going, busily at work.
The entrance door slid shut.

A bolt shot home.

All the Legion was now aboard, and communication with the ground had been broken.
The four men found themselves in a brightly lighted corridor that led directly across the fuselage to a similar door on the other side.

This corridor was of some metal, painted a glossy white.

Doors opened out of it, on either hand.