Joel rose.
"You go first," said the serf. "You may be all right, but I don't want you breathing down the back of my neck."
Joel started down the steps in the lead. He heard a whisper. Then the roof caved in!
Something seemed to burst inside his skull. He pitched forward, rolled down the stair, brought up in a limp unconscious heap at the foot.
Above him, the serf frowned at the shattered barrel of his projector. "Must have a skull like a meteor shield," he muttered. He threw the projector over the railing.
Joel opened his eyes. Pain wrenched at his skull. There was noise and dust.
At first he thought he was back on Terra in the cattle sheds. Then the scene jarred into focus. He remembered the serf with the woman's scalp at his belt.
He was lying on the ground, he realized, in the midst of a hideous tangle of shouting men and half-tracks. Dust sifted into his nostrils. The furious orange rays of Alpha Centauri B cast an ominous glow over the endless line of vehicles moving into the gutted city.
He sat up. It was a clearing in the jungle. It must have covered hundreds of acres. Prisoners were being held in herds like cattle. Loot was stacked everywhere.