The Peace War Read Online Free PDF Page A

from the cart. In truth he was still a little unsteady on his feet, but the less they
knew of his capabilities the better. Let them think he was weak, and ignorant of English.
    A servant came runningout of the main entrance (or could the servants' entrance be so
grand?). No one else appeared, but Wili resolved to be docile until he knew more. The
woman-like Morales, middle-aged-greeted the two men warmly, then guided Wili across
the stone flagging to the entrance. The boy kept his eyes down, pretending to be dopey.
Out of the corner of this eye, though, he saw something more — a silver net like some
giant spider web stretched between a tree and the side of the mansion.
    Past the huge careen doors, a light glowed dimly, and Wili saw that the place was the
equal of anything in Pasadena, though there were no obvious art treasures or golden
statuary lying about. They led him up (not down! What sort of
jefe
put his lowest
servants on an upper floor?) a wide staircase, and into
    a room under the eaves. The only light was the moon's, coming through a window more
than large enough to escape by.
    "Tienes hambre?"
the woman asked him.
    Wili shook his head dumbly, surprised at himself. He really wasn't hungry; it must be
some residual effect of the stunner. She showed him a toilet in an adjoining room and
told him to get some sleep.
    And then he was left alone!
    Wili lay on the bed and looked out over the forest. He thought he could see a glint from
the Vandenberg Dome. His luck was almost past marveling at. He thanked the One God
he had not bolted at the entrance to the mansion. Whoever was the master here knew
nothing of security and employed fools. A week here and he would know every small
thing worth stealing. In a week he would be gone with enough treasure to live for a long,
long time!
- Flashforward -
    Captain Allison Parker's new world began with the sound of tearing metal.
    For several seconds she just perceived and reacted, not trying to explain anything to
herself. The hull was breached. Quiller was trying to crawl back toward her. There was
blood on his face. Through rents in the hull she could see trees and pale sky.
Trees?
    Her mind locked out the wonder, and she struggled from her harness. She snapped the
disk pack to her side and pulled down the light helmet with its ten-minute air supply.
Without thinking, she was following the hull-breach procedures that had been drilled into
all of them so many times. If she had thought about it she might have left off the helmet —
there were sounds of birds and wind-rustled trees — and she would have died.
    Allison pulled Quiller away from the panel and saw why the harness had not protected
him: The front of the shuttle was caved in toward the pilot. Another few centimeters and
he would have been crushed. A harsh, crackling sound came clearly through the thin shell
of her helmet. She slipped Quiller's in place and turned on the oxygen feed. She
recognized the smell that still hung in her helmet: The tracer stench that tagged their
landing fuel.
    Angus Quiller straightened out of her grasp. He looked around dazedly. "Fred?" he
shouted.
    Outside, the improbable trees were beginning to flare. God only knew how long the
forward hull would keep the fire in the nose tanks from breaking into the crew area.
    Allison and Quiller pulled themselves forward... and saw what had happened to Fred
Torres. The terrible sound that had begun this nightmare had been the left front of the
vehicle coming down into the flight deck. The back of Fred's acceleration couch was
intact, but Allison could see that the man was beyond help. Quiller had been very lucky.
    They looked through the rent that was almost directly over their heads. It was ragged
and long, perhaps wide enough to escape through. Allison glanced across the cabin at the
main hatch. It was subtly bowed in; they would never get out that way. Even through
their pressure suits, they could now feel the heat. The sky beyond the rent was no