"About a thousand miles east of you. I looked in on Stephans this afternoon. I'll get down there after dark."
Sunsel glowed an arabesque of colors on the village at Rowley's feet. The comm was silent. He switched it off.
Commander Waldo Spliid was a big, blond man. He bulked hugely at Rowley's side, among the intense shadows of the trees. Hume had no moon. Only the stars spattered a frail shine over the upper levels of the forest.
Rowley said, softly, "Here's the grave."
Spliid flashed a light, briefly.
"What did they dig it with?"
"Spade—shovel."
"Steel blade?"
"Iron, anyway. I reported on that I don't know where they get metals."
Spliid flashed his light again, grunted.