At that instant Mason came into the control room. "I don't know what you expect to find on that planet down there," he said. He handed a batch of photos to Underwood. "We must have pulled a boner somewhere."
Underwood felt a sting of apprehension. "Why? What's the matter?"
"If there's any habitation there, it's under bottles. There isn't a speck of atmosphere on the whole planet."
"That makes it definitely an archeological problem, then," Phyfe said. "It was too much to hope that an advanced civilization like the Dragboran could have existed another half million years. But the photos—what do they show?"
He glanced over Underwood's arm. "There are cities! No question that the planet was once inhabited. But it looks as if it had only been yesterday that those cities had been occupied!"
"That would be explained by the absence of atmosphere," said Underwood. "The cities would not be buried under drifted mounds in an airless world. Some great cataclysm must have removed both atmosphere and life from the planet at the same time. Perhaps our problem is easier, rather than more difficult, because of this. If the destruction occurred reasonably soon after the Dragbora defeated the Sirenians, there may be ample evidence of their weapons among the ruins."
As Dreyer, Terry, and Illia drifted into the control room after the landing, an impromptu war council was held.
"We'll have to wait until the fleet gives up and goes back," said Terry. "We can't hope to go in and blast them out of the way."
"How do we know they'll give up?" asked Illia. "They may be a permanent guard."