At four seventeen in the morning, the Asterion array answered for the first time in seventy years. Mara watched a pale line climb across the receiver, hesitate, and settle into three measured pulses. “Tomas, come here,” she said, keeping her voice low. He stopped in the doorway as the signal returned, softer now but unmistakably deliberate. Then a distant voice spoke Mara’s name, and wonder gave way to fear.
