Dathan Herulus and one of his lieutenants experience a Tamarian heavy rocket attack.

    A distant, high-pitched whistle pierced the frigid sky from the west--descending rapidly in tone and growing in volume as the seconds passed. It sounded vaguely like an incoming mortar shell, only much more intense . . .

    Suddenly, we realized our lives were in danger and we dove to the floor. I heard a shrieking overhead that sounded like the laughter of demons as my face contacted cold stone and I laced my hands over the back of my head for protection. A tremendous concussion shook the ground, jolting rafters already weakened by mortar impacts, jarring them loose to rain painfully upon my back.

    An explosion shattered the early morning air, then silence washed mercifully over my deafened ears and I heard nothing more for a long time. Choking in the suffocating dust, my back throbbing from welts and bruises, I called for Lieutenant Hicks.

    One of the massive, pine joists lay across his back, and his legs were covered in debris from the roof. I tried to move the timber, but slipped on a dark slick near the young lieutenant's head--falling to my hands and knees amid a spreading pool of blood. Then I noticed the unnatural twist to his neck and his flattened skull, crushed by the very beam I'd been trying to relocate. Lieutenant Hicks had been killed instantly.

    Overcome by a sudden rush of nausea, I retched violently. With my throat stinging from bile, my teeth etched with stomach acid, I scrambled down the ladder in disoriented haste, not knowing what to do.

    Other men were running as well. I witnessed wide-eyed terror in their expressions, saw their lips moving, but I could hear nothing other than a strange, hollow echo in my ears. The moment seemed surreal--filled with images and sensations so removed from the normal reality of my military experience, it was as if the drama lacked only the element of sleep to be a dream.

    My perceptions, heightened by strong emotion, absorbed every detail. I watched as another fiery, cylindrical shape plunged soundlessly into the upper floor of the Ice Dragon Inn. A brilliant burst of light flashed through every portal, followed by a multi-hued shower of erupting glass and belches of black smoke. Graceful stone buttresses toppled in tandem, and with them whole sections of slate-shingled roof collapsed.

    The destruction wrought by a single warhead astounded me!

    Dead men littered the courtyard. Others, maimed by the blast and its fiery aftermath lay in pathetic, twisted heaps--their burned faces distorted in agony. I began moving them away from the wall and building, mercifully unable to hear their cries of pain.

    Our medics did not arrive for a very long time. During that interval, several men helped me gather up the bodies of our dead. Together, we managed to dislodge the remains of Lieutenant Hicks by dismantling the ruined watchtower.

    Untrained in medical care, I could do nothing other than make the injured as comfortable as possible. A nameless centurion died as I watched. He'd been muttering for a woman repeatedly, and though I could not hear his words, the motion of his lips and tongue formed the name "Bella" as clearly to my mind as if he'd shouted the syllables in my ear.

Unspoken Secrets