Martin shrugged. "Clear around the city? I'd like to know what it is—was—for."
"Defense," Rodney, several yards behind, suggested.
"Could be," Martin said. "Let's go in."
The three crossed the metal band and walked abreast down a street, their broad soft soled boots making no sound on the dull metal. They passed doors and arches and windows and separate buildings. They moved cautiously across five intersections. And they stood in a square surrounded by the tallest buildings in the city.
Rodney broke the silence, hesitantly. "Not—not very big. Is it?"
Wass looked at him shrewdly. "Neither were the—well, shall we call them, people? Have you noticed how low everything is?"
Rodney's laughter rose, too. Then, sobering—"Maybe they crawled."
A nebulous image, product of childhood's vivid imagination, moved slowly across Martin's mind. "All right!" he rapped out—and the image faded.
"Sorry," Rodney murmured, his throat working beneath his lantern jaw. Then—"I wonder what it's like here in the winter when there's no light at all?"
"I imagine they had illumination of some sort," Martin answered, dryly. "If we don't hurry up and get through this place and back to the ship, we're very likely to find out."