Martin glanced at Wass, then started out of the switchboard room, not looking back. "It got in and out of the city some way. Perhaps we can leave the same way."
Down the ramp again.
"There's another ramp," Wass murmured.
Rodney looked down it. "I wonder how many there are, all told."
Martin placed one foot on the metal incline. He angled his torch down, picking out shadowy, geometrical shapes, duplicates of the ones on the present level. "We'll find out," he said, "how many there are."
Eleven levels later Rodney asked, "How much time have we now?"
"Seven hours," Wass said quietly, "until take-off."
"One more level," Martin said, ignoring the reference to time. "I ... think it's the last."
They walked down the ramp and stood together, silent in a dim pool of artificial light on the bottom level of the alien city.
Rodney played his torch about the metal figures carefully placed about the floor. "Martin, what if there are no reservoirs? What if there are cemeteries instead? Or cold storage units? Maybe the switch I pulled—"