Marque and Reprisal Read Free Page A

no attention, but his pilot, younger and faster, tackled him just short of the grass verge. He hit the ground hard, furious… the snarling whine overhead much louder now, coming at him. Fear soured his mouth; he covered his head with his hands, realizing how useless that was.
    His implant threw up visuals of the things—windowless, short-winged, unmanned—just before the flash of light, the noise, the blow of rushing air and debris that rolled him over and over on the tarmac, then the second flash, the second boom and roar much fainter.
    He blinked, rolled to his knees. Gaspard gripped his shoulders; the pilot, already on his feet, was pale as cheese curds. Ahead, the office building was a mass of flames and roiling black smoke. And beyond, to the right, where the house, the comfortable home had stood—a column of flame and smoke.
    “Myris!” he said. “San!” He wrenched free of Gaspard and ran to the office first because it was closer. He was aware of Gaspard running beside him, though he could not hear his footsteps through the roaring in his ears and the clamor of the flames.
    Someone staggered out, ahead of him, and Gerard slowed to look. One of the clerks, white-rimmed eyes staring out of a smoke-blackened face. “What—?”
    “Take care of her,” Gerard said to his pilot. “Call—” But emergency services for this end of the island were housed in the other end of the building. If they had survived they’d already be at work. “Call back to the town. Medical. Call the city—warn Stav—” Two more figures staggered out, one half carrying the other; Gerard moved toward them.
    “You have the skullphone,” Gaspard yelled to him.
    He blinked against the stinging smoke. Yes. He did. Mental fingers fumbling with the shock, he called his brother.
    “Gerry?” Stavros answered. “What’s wrong—aren’t you coming in this afternoon?”
    “Evacuate the building,” Gerard said.
    “What?”
    “Someone’s just dropped bombs on us here on Corleigh,” Gerard said. “Some kind of drone plane thing. Clear headquarters—they’ll hit there next.”
    “I just got an ansible call about some trouble on Allway,” Stavros said. “Connections?”
    A burning cinder landed on Gerard’s hand; he flicked it off. “Certainly. Clear the building, damn it.”
    “I’ve already hit the alarm, Gerry. They’re going. It takes time, you know.”
    They didn’t have time. He knew that, even as he closed on the fiery maelstrom and tried to steel himself to go in and help survivors.
    “Put out an allsystems warning. Let our people know…”
    “Right. On it. Are you all right?”
    “I’m alive. I’ve got to get in there and see if San—”
    “Gerry—don’t. Let the rescue squad—”
    “It’s gone,” Gerard said. As the afternoon breeze pushed the column of smoke to one side, he could see that the bomb had hit on that end of the office building.
    “Myris?”
    “The house was hit. I don’t know. She was going out to swim after lunch; I pray she did.” If even the pool would be enough protection. And that still meant the household staff, cleaning up after lunch. He squeezed his eyes shut a moment, and said a short, fervent prayer. “Stav—I heard what you said.
They’re
leaving. You leave, too. Get in the bunker.”
    “I will,” Stavros said. “When I’m through. I’m sending out the allsystems warning now… all right. I’m leaving it to a volunteer, I’m moving.”
    It was too hot, the flames burning his face meters from the fire itself. He had just remembered the fuel storage tanks for the emergency vehicles when the next explosion threw him off his feet, onto something sharp and hard, and the next three tossed more of the building his way, debris as effective as any other form of shrapnel.
    He was just waking up when Gaspard and old George dug him out of the pile. His left side hurt with every breath. A rib, he suspected, or two. He coughed, and the pain stabbed deep. Smoke still billowed