"Anyway," Martin decided, "we can take a look down below."
"In the pitch dark," Wass added.
Martin adjusted his torch, began to lead the way down the metal ramp. The incline was gentle, apparently constructed for legs shorter, feet perhaps less broad than their own. The metal, without mark of any sort, gleamed under the combined light of the torches, unrolling out of the darkness before the men.
At length the incline melted smoothly into the next level of the city.
Martin shined his light upward, and the others followed his example. Metal as smooth and featureless as that on which they stood shone down on them.
Wass turned his light parallel with the floor, and then moved slowly in a circle. "No supports. No supports anywhere. What keeps all that up there?"
"I don't know. I have no idea." Martin gestured toward the ramp with his light. "Does all this, this whole place, look at all familiar to you?"
Rodney's gulp was clearly audible through the radio receivers. "Here?"
"No, no," Martin answered impatiently, "not just here. I mean the whole city."
"Yes," Wass said dryly, "it does. I'm sure this is where all my nightmares stay when they're not on shift."