Haze and the Hammer of Darkness by L. E. Modesitt Jr. Page B

radiated from the circular stone walk that bordered the structure. All the stone was of a pale gray that was probably almost white but looked faintly rosy in the amber light that filtered through the orbital shields.
    As they walked nearer, Roget could see two ramps under the low domed roof, each slanting into the ground—one on each side of the portico. A couple wearing hiking gear emerged from the ramp opposite the one immediately in front of Lyvia and Roget. Neither hiker so much as looked in Roget’s direction.
    â€œThis way,” Lyvia said pleasantly.
    The mouth of the tunnel holding the ramp was encircled by a deep green band. On each side, waist-high, protruded four black squares, each some ten centimeters on a side. Lyvia raised a black tube and pointed it at one of the squares.
    â€œPaying the fare?” asked Roget.
    â€œPaying yours. Mine is deducted automatically.”
    The tunnel beyond the entry formed an oval with a flat base, roughly three meters wide, and the top of the ceiling was about four meters above the ramp. The flooring looked to be a deep green composite that offered a certain amount of give, combined with enough roughness to provide easy traction. The walls were a deep greenish gray, except for the two curved lighting strips some thirty centimeters wide set three quarters of the way up from the ramp surface. The light from the strips was slightly whiter than the amber that filtered through the atmospheric shields.
    As he walked down the curving and sloping ramp, Roget asked, “You don’t have any aircraft, flitters, that sort of thing?”
    â€œWe don’t use them. They’re energy intensive and excessively hard on the environment. They also create unrealistic expectations.”
    â€œDon’t use them? That’s an interesting way of putting it.”
    She smiled. “It’s accurate. You’ll see.”
    â€œUnrealistic expectations?” asked Roget.
    â€œI’ll explain once we’re on the subtrans.”
    Roget started to protest in exasperation, then just smiled politely.
    The ramp descended in a semicircle, then straightened for the last few meters before emerging onto a simple concourse that stretched some twenty meters to Roget’s right. The walls of the concourse curved slightly, suggesting that they were but a fraction of a larger arc. A series of four archways punctuated the straight wall facing Roget. A half-transparent, half-translucent light green substance filled each archway.
    Lyvia walked briskly to the third archway, halting there. “It shouldn’t be long now. Not too long anyway.”
    Two older men stood talking several meters away, right before the last archway. While Roget thought he heard some familiar words, clearly language on Dubiety had diverged from the Federation standard. Yet Lyvia spoke Federation standard perfectly.
    â€œIf you listen closely for a while, you’ll begin to understand,” she said. “It’s more a matter of cadence and localisms.”
    Roget hoped so. He could feel a gentle but persistent breeze, and he glanced to his right, taking in the slots in the end wall of the concourse. Even straining his senses, he could detect no sounds of machinery.
    â€œAbout expectations?” he asked.
    â€œLater, after we’re on the subtrans,” she repeated.
    Roget decided not to push her. A good fifteen standard minutes passed before the translucent green doors slid back to reveal the interior of the subtrans. Again, Roget had been unable to detect the approach of the underground conveyance.
    Lyvia stepped through the archway, and Roget followed her. The subtrans’s interior was simple enough, two individual seats on each side of a center aisle, set in groups of four, two seats facing two others. The flooring and walls flowed into the graceful seats, a deep green, with a brownish amber “trim.” There were no windows, just a featureless wall.
    Lyvia took a