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Silence
.
The
Baron
stood
with
his
back
against
his
private
door
,
his
own
bolt
hole
behind
the
table
.
He
had
slammed
it
on
a
room
full
of
dead
men
.
His
senses
took
in
guards
swarming
around
him
.
Did
I
breathe
it
?
he
asked
himself
.
Whatever
it
was
in
there
,
did
it
get
me
,
too
?
Sounds
returned
to
him
.
.
.
and
reason
.
He
heard
someone
shouting
orders
—
gas
masks
.
.
.
keep
a
door
closed
.
.
.
get
blowers
going
.
The
others
fell
quickly
,
he
thought
.
I
’
m
still
standing
.
I
’
m
still
breathing
.
Merciless
hell
!
That
was
close
!
He
could
analyze
it
now
.
His
shield
had
been
activated
,
set
low
but
still
enough
to
slow
molecular
interchange
across
the
field
barrier
.
And
he
had
been
pushing
himself
away
from
the
table
.
.
.
that
and
Piter
’
s
shocked
gasp
which
had
brought
the
guard
captain
darting
forward
into
his
own
doom
.
Chance
and
the
warning
in
a
dying
man
’
s
gasp
—
these
had
saved
him
.
The
Baron
felt
no
gratitude
to
Piter
.
The
fool
had
got
himself
killed
.
And
that
stupid
guard
captain
!
He
’
d
said
he
scoped
everyone
before
bringing
them
into
the
Baron
’
s
presence
!
How
had
it
been
possible
for
the
Duke
.
.
.
?
No
warning
.
