When Deanna finishes what she'd started to say, Beth can see why she'd hesitated. Mentioning Cetaganda at all, let alone a similarity to them, is a great way to file up this crowd.

She wonders for a moment how hard a transition this has been. At least when the world ended, they'd still had a generator. Real beds, stuff to eat besides oatmeal, familiar faces. The worst took time to reach them. But if Deanna's suffering, she's hiding it well.

"So," she says, trying to imagine Cetagandan technology. What she's seen has been at a distance, and everything else has come secondhand. "Science fiction stuff?"