The Fall of Parlemion (Short Story)
The world was on fire. That was all that private first class Johannes could think as he fled in blind panic through the ruined streets. He could see no more than a few feet in any direction, all was smoke and dust and fire. Bodies littered the pavement in their scores as he stumbled past, civilians, soldiers, diplomats, servitors, every rank and class and role within Parlemion's dizzying social structures was displayed in this morbid tableau of death and destruction. What had happened to the rest of his squad, his company or the entire bloody regiment he had no idea. All he could think of was to flee, back towards the space port and the distant hope of evacuation. If only he could get there, maybe find some shuttle still loading refugees, he just might make it, oh Emperor if only he could make it! A distant explosion rocked the street, the pavement under Johannes feet crumbling and shifting while all around him stone and mortar was blasted from the ravaged buildings all around. If