The voice said:
"You may now descend."
Captain Wiley moved to the jet-control panel. "Lieutenant!" he snapped. "Wake up. Let's go!"
The ship sank downward through the thick sea of clouds. The men walked to the ports. A tenseness, an excitement grew in their faces, like dying flame being fanned into its former brilliancy.
Out of the clouds loomed monstrous, shining, silver spires and towers, Cyclopean bridges, gigantic lake-like mirrors, immense golden spheres. It was a nightmare world, a jungle of fantastic shape and color.
The men gasped, whispered, murmured, the flame of their excitement growing, growing.
"The whole planet is a city!" breathed Parker.
————
Thump!
The Wanderer came to rest on a broad landing field of light blue stone. The jets coughed, spluttered, died. The ship quivered, then lay still, its interior charged with an electric, pregnant silence.