They boarded and hauled the crawler with them.
A ramp unfolded from the ship's belly, not steep, wide enough to move cargo and people at the same time. The surface was textured for grip, scarred from use, and warm underfoot in a way that told Reva it had already compensated for load and balance. This thing didn't creak when weight shifted. It absorbed it.
Inside, the ship felt nothing like its exterior suggested.
There were no sweeping halls or polished displays. The interior was segmented and practical, corridors wide enough for two people to pass with gear, walls layered with reinforcement panels that had been removed and reattached more times than anyone bothered hiding. Power conduits ran along the ceiling behind transparent shielding so they could be checked at a glance. The lighting stayed low but even, tuned to function rather than mood.
Everything about it said long travel, long survival, and zero interest in looking impressive.
