He led the way through a shoulder-high arch in one of the tall
buildings surrounding the square. The corridor inside was dim and
plain, and he switched on his flashlight, the other two immediately
following his example. The walls and the rounded ceiling of the
corridor were of the same dull metal as the buildings' facades, and
the streets. There were a multitude of doors and arches set into
either side of the corridor.
It was rather like ... entering a gigantic metal beehive.
Martin chose an arch, with beyond it a metal ramp, which tilted
downward, gleaming in the pale circle of his torch.
A call from Rodney halted him. "Back here," the tall man repeated. "It
looks like a switchboard."
The three advanced to the end of the central corridor, pausing before a
great arch, outlined in the too-careful geometrical figures Martin had
come to associate with the city builders. The three torches, shining
through the arch, picked out a bank of buttons, handles ... and a thick
rope of cables which ran upward to vanish unexpectedly in the metal
roof.
"Is this it," Wass murmured, "or an auxiliary?"