“General Maradash, are you hurt?” a medic asked.
Reynar Maradash stiffly rose from the floor. Around him, small fires continued to burn. The air was thick with smoke and debris particles. The bodies of his entourage lay scattered like broken twigs after a fierce storm.
He pushed the medic aside as he surveyed the damage. He would have died with them if he hadn’t stepped into the control room a split second before the explosion. He had been protected by a tall cabinet that fell during the blast. Even so, he could feel a burning pain on the side of his face that had been pressed against the overheated metal.
“Where are the guards that were in charge of this prison corridor?” he demanded.
“We found them in one of the cells further down. One is dead, the other is wounded but still alive,”
