He could not have explained why he shrank from such investigation.
Where earlier that morning he had wanted to take the flitter and go
off by himself to explore the world which seemed so bright and new,
now he was glad that he was only the pilot of the flyer and that the
others were not only in his company but ready to make the decisions.
He had a queer distaste for the countryside, a disinclination to land
near that dome.

Beyond the first of the deserted farms they came to the highway and,
since the buckled and half-buried roadway ran south, Hobart suggested
that they use it as a visible guide. More isolated dome houses showed
in the course of an hour. And their fields were easy to map from the
air. But nowhere did the Terrans see any indication that those fields
were in use. Nor were there any signs of animal or bird life. The
weird desolation of the landscape began to work its spell on the men
in the flitter. There was something unnatural about the country, and
with every mile the flyer clocked off, Raf longed to be heading in the
opposite direction.

The domes drew closer together, made a cluster at crossroads, gathered
into a town in which all the buildings were the same shape and size,
like the cells of a wasp nest. Raf wondered if those who had built
them had not been humanoid at all, but perhaps insects with a hive
mind. And because that thought was unpleasant he resolutely turned his
attention to the machine he piloted.

They passed over four such towns, all marking intersections of roads
running east and west, north and south, with precise exactness. The
sun was at noon or a little past that mark when Captain Hobart gave