Getting to the door is tricky, given that the Stuff still roils with war around them. Bullets continue zipping through the air, and the group moves more slowly than Stacia and Kerrigan are capable of simply by the virtue of more bodies, more people to keep together. Occasionally, things explode, but just as often craters suddenly carve themselves into the ground as if some massive, invisible force has just taken a bite out of things.

The closer they get to the door, the thicker the bulletfire, the more gruesome the explosions, the more twisted the combinations of soldier and weapon. It makes more sense to leave Lubitsch and his soldiers behind than linger even under cover. The door is, mercifully, unlocked-

-and is surprisingly close to what Stacia was balking at hoping for, in tone if not in imagery. The door leads to a much more tranquil space in Planker's mind, like the eye of a hurricane, somehow all the more calm for the contrast of the carnage around it. It's just a room. Furnitureless, windowless. The walls are insufficient to block out the sounds from outside, but the reprieve from the sights is something, at least.