Survivors: Book 4 Circles of Light series by E.M. Sinclair Read Free Book Online Page B

example. We rarely
bother to watch your activities.’
    ‘Then why are you
here?’ Navan asked.
    Kertiss turned away,
wandering along a wall of desks. ‘There were reasons that a group
of Ships had to leave our home world. Kel-Harat is on a spiral arm
of the Repsian Galaxy – not an overcrowded region but neither is
this world too solitary. It would take our enemies a very great
deal of time and energy to stretch their search so far.’
    Kertiss turned back to
face Navan. ‘Kel-Harat had been briefly surveyed and registered as
a restricted world requiring no contact at the time of the survey.
It was classified as low pop, low tech and, conveniently for us
millennia later, the survey report was lost in bureaucratic files
until we found it by chance.’
    ‘Low pop, low tech?’
asked Maressa.
    ‘Low human population,
low technological achievement. Technology is all this.’ Kertiss
gestured round the room. ‘Machinery that does the fundamental tasks
leaving us free to concentrate on innovative experiment in many
fields. Your technological development has only reached the lowest
steps towards our level. You can work metal for example – that is
the beginnings of technology.’
    Seela eased her bulk
back onto her haunches.
    ‘These – things – you
can make are all very well, but your minds have little of the
strength that ours do – for example.’
    Tika glanced at the
purple Dragon but Kertiss seemed oblivious of the sarcasm. He shook
his head.
    ‘You may be able to do
a few tricks with your minds but nothing of that sort compares with
our technology.’
    They followed Kertiss
from the room and along the passage into the next. More desks lined
two walls but two large stone boxes took up most of the space.
Black ropes hung suspended from the ceiling, connecting some of the
desks with the boxes. Ren and Tika both put careful fingers to
touch the shiny grey boxes and met each other’s eyes. The box felt
too slick, too warm, to be stone. Ren pressed his fingers harder
but whatever material it was, it was unyielding. Kertiss leaned
against the end of one of the oblong boxes and folded his
arms.
    ‘These are generation
tanks,’ he told them. ‘No. Not generation as you’re thinking – not
fathers and grandfathers and so on. Generation as in production,
growth.’ He sighed. ‘If you have good rich land, you will be able
to generate, or grow, good crops will you not?’
    His frown lessened at
their nods of understanding.
    ‘So these tanks can
generate life. Or at least, repairs. For example,’
    Seela huffed rather
noisily but Kertiss didn’t notice.
    ‘For example, if you
were to be injured, have an accident – lost your hand let’s say. We
can immerse you in the gen tank and you will grow a new
one.’
    None of the companions
could hide their astonishment. Tika and Sket’s thoughts flew to Jal
in the Stronghold.
    ‘Could you grow someone
a new arm?’ Tika asked in disbelief.
    ‘Of course we can. The
time needed for someone to spend in the tank depends on how complex
their injury. My sister and I spend a day in a gen tank
occasionally to ensure that our bodies continue to function at full
efficiency.’
    ‘The Qwah are fortunate
people indeed to have such marvellous healing available,’ said
Maressa.
    Kertiss looked shocked.
‘We do not use it other than for ourselves, or in experimental
circumstances with particular specimens.’
    ‘What sort of specimens
do you use?’ Ren’s mouth smiled but his eyes were like
stones.
    Kertiss started to
reply then stopped, studying Ren more carefully.
    ‘Nothing of great
importance. Come, I think we’ll find Orla in the next
room.’
    Farn nudged his face
close to Tika’s. ‘I like not this place my Tika. Can we go back and
talk to Singer?’
    She rubbed her cheek
against his. ‘Soon.’
    They followed Seela and
the others to yet another room. This was slightly more familiar in
its degree of untidiness. A long workbench with cupboards beneath
stood against