Aroused from his daydreaming, Gary saw a city straight ahead, looming on the horizon, a great city a-gleam with shining metal.
"The Engineer said we would find people here," Caroline whispered. "That must be where we'll find them.”
The city was falling into ruin. Much of it, undoubtedly, already had been covered by the creeping desert that crawled toward it from every direction.
Some of the buildings were falling apart, with great gaping holes staring like empty, hopeless eyes. But part of it, at least, was standing, and that part gave a breath-taking hint to the sort of city it had been when it soared in full pride of strength at its very prime.
Smoothly Gary brought the ship down toward the city, down toward a level patch of desert in front of the largest building yet standing. And the building, he saw, was a beauteous thing that almost defied description, a poem in grace and rhythm, seemingly too fragile for this weird and bitter world.
The ship plowed along the sand and stopped. Gary rose from the pilot's seat and reached for his helmet. "We're here," he announced.
"I didn't think we'd make it," Caroline confessed. "We took such an awful chance.”
"But we did," he said gruffly. "And we have a job to do.”
He set his helmet on his head and clamped it down. "I have a hunch we'll need these things," he said.
She put on her helmet and together they went out of the air lock.