One hand brushed back sandy hair, and she frowned as the chime rang, both in her head and on the invisible speaker beside the door. “Commander’s conference,” announced MYL-ERA. “Report.” “Kemra,” the nav announced, waiting as the others reported. “All on net,” MYL-ERA announced. “Subcommander Kemra. You spent time on the previous day with the demi planetary coordinator.” Gibreal’s words were cold-forged. “My report is on the net. I’d be happy to answer questions.” “You indicated the probability of higher technology. On what do you base that?” “As I indicated …” the cybnav paused, “an array of subtle signs … .” “No weapons, no systems that produce miraculous results?” Gorum’s words dripped with acid, hissing as they fell upon the net. “Item one,” snapped Kemra. “Houses that have remained intact for five millennia, perhaps longer—yet no sign of such structures outside one area of designated ruins. Item two: instantaneous communications that I could barely sense but not even analyze basics.
