“Wild ones?” asked Orne.
“Perhaps,” said Tanub.
A glowing of many lights grew visible through the giant tree trunks. It grew brighter as the sled crept through the last of the jungle, emerged in cleared land at the edge of the city.
Orne stared upward in awe. The city fluted and spiraled into the moonlit sky. It was a fragile appearing lacery of bridges, winking dots of light. The bridges wove back and forth from building to building until the entire visible network appeared one gigantic dew-glittering web.
“All that with glass,” murmured Orne.
“What’s happening?” hissed Stetson.
Orne touched his throat contact. “We’re just into the city clearing, proceeding toward the nearest building.”
“This is far enough,” said Tanub.
Orne stopped the sled. In the moonlight, he could see armed Gienahns all around. The buttressed pedestal of one of the buildings loomed directly ahead. It looked taller than had the scout cruiser in its jungle landing circle.
Tanub leaned close to Orne’s shoulder. “We have not deceived you, have we, Orne?”