The porthole glass showed nothing but dark rock sliding past at speed.
Not the rushing blur of surface travel — something slower and more absolute than that. It was the heavy, consuming grind you got when the thing moving was also the thing eating. Lilith's drill chewed forward through bedrock that had been sitting undisturbed since before anyone alive had a word for the concept of undisturbed. The amber cabin lights hadn't changed since departure. There was no way to tell if it was day or night outside. There was no outside left.
