exceptional hearing.
Wells twisted around and focused his displeasure on Hicks. His hands settled on the waist of his uniform and his left eyebrow arched higher. “Would you like to file an official complaint, Hicks?”
“No, sir!”
“Very good.” Wells turned in her direction. Amanda slammed her shoulders back and looked straight forward, then at his belt, his buttons, whatever didn’t involve making eye contact.
The prime minister had rushed. She couldn’t argue that and her face would show it. If the jackass had waited for them to fetch back his Thurian, the other side wouldn’t be pummeling his palace with artillery at the moment. She felt exactly like the rest of the unit, as if the prime minister deserved what he got, as if the man’s stupidity had escalated the situation and would risk more of their skin than necessary.
“You have something to add, Man?” Wells voice poured around her, slick and full of suspicion.
“No, sir.”
“Damn straight.” He cleared his throat and his voice changed, the tone back to business. “Now if the situation on the ground is any indication, the prime minister is about to be relieved of that status. Luckily, he paid us in advance.”
This earned him a few snickers. Amanda turned her head and caught the shaking of Chicken’s shoulders. The bench rattled as Hicks shifted position and tried to hide his own reaction.
“Instead of fetching the courtesan,” Wells continued without comment, “we’ll be rescuing the man himself. I want cover fire from the transport the minute we touch down. Hicks’ squad will secure the courtyard and the rest of you will infiltrate the palace and take out any hostiles that have managed to gain entry.”
“Sir!” The cabin rang with the affirmation. The benches shook and Amanda pressed back into the padding and pulled her rifle into ready position. The engines changed pitch. The transport dropped into the last stage of its dive. Commander Wells reached for the wall over her head. He stepped close enough that she could stare at his boots.
“The prime minister has fled to his private bunker. We need to get there and get him out—if he’s still alive. Chicken?”
“Yeah?”
“You find communications and get me a location. Man’s squad’s with me.”
“Sir.” She snapped the affirmative while her fingers drove against the cool metal on the rifle’s grip. It meant nothing, yet her mind played with the idea. Did he want to keep an eye on her because he didn’t trust a woman squad leader? Maybe he’d seen something in training, something that actually placed her high enough in his esteem to make her the one for the job. Had she caught some kind of virus in cryo-sleep that turned fully trained mercenaries into complete idiots? She bit down on her bottom lip and let the sting, the taste of blood force her back to reality. It meant nothing.
The thrusters howled and she felt the vibrations through her seat. Landing. Go time. She was with him. She frowned and chewed her lip harder. The second they got back, she’d report to Gerafit for a psych evaluation. Something was wrong with her brain.
Wells’ barked the order, “Helmets!” Her hands reacted automatically, reaching up to secure the protective gear, flipping the visor down to lock, but her eyes drifted to his face and her heart stuttered to find him watching her. As they touched down, kissed the planet surface and made ready for war, all Amanda could see was the spark in the commander’s eyes.
It burned through her like a laser, more like fire. They headed into hostile territory, into battle, and Amanda had already taken the first hit.
Chapter Two
“Jones is down!” Wells yelled from the far end of the corridor. “Chicken, I need that schematic.”
Amanda held position at the corner. Her squad waited, spread out along the hallway in front of Wells and guarding two side passages they’d left behind them. The tracking device attached to her wrist showed their
Wells twisted around and focused his displeasure on Hicks. His hands settled on the waist of his uniform and his left eyebrow arched higher. “Would you like to file an official complaint, Hicks?”
“No, sir!”
“Very good.” Wells turned in her direction. Amanda slammed her shoulders back and looked straight forward, then at his belt, his buttons, whatever didn’t involve making eye contact.
The prime minister had rushed. She couldn’t argue that and her face would show it. If the jackass had waited for them to fetch back his Thurian, the other side wouldn’t be pummeling his palace with artillery at the moment. She felt exactly like the rest of the unit, as if the prime minister deserved what he got, as if the man’s stupidity had escalated the situation and would risk more of their skin than necessary.
“You have something to add, Man?” Wells voice poured around her, slick and full of suspicion.
“No, sir.”
“Damn straight.” He cleared his throat and his voice changed, the tone back to business. “Now if the situation on the ground is any indication, the prime minister is about to be relieved of that status. Luckily, he paid us in advance.”
This earned him a few snickers. Amanda turned her head and caught the shaking of Chicken’s shoulders. The bench rattled as Hicks shifted position and tried to hide his own reaction.
“Instead of fetching the courtesan,” Wells continued without comment, “we’ll be rescuing the man himself. I want cover fire from the transport the minute we touch down. Hicks’ squad will secure the courtyard and the rest of you will infiltrate the palace and take out any hostiles that have managed to gain entry.”
“Sir!” The cabin rang with the affirmation. The benches shook and Amanda pressed back into the padding and pulled her rifle into ready position. The engines changed pitch. The transport dropped into the last stage of its dive. Commander Wells reached for the wall over her head. He stepped close enough that she could stare at his boots.
“The prime minister has fled to his private bunker. We need to get there and get him out—if he’s still alive. Chicken?”
“Yeah?”
“You find communications and get me a location. Man’s squad’s with me.”
“Sir.” She snapped the affirmative while her fingers drove against the cool metal on the rifle’s grip. It meant nothing, yet her mind played with the idea. Did he want to keep an eye on her because he didn’t trust a woman squad leader? Maybe he’d seen something in training, something that actually placed her high enough in his esteem to make her the one for the job. Had she caught some kind of virus in cryo-sleep that turned fully trained mercenaries into complete idiots? She bit down on her bottom lip and let the sting, the taste of blood force her back to reality. It meant nothing.
The thrusters howled and she felt the vibrations through her seat. Landing. Go time. She was with him. She frowned and chewed her lip harder. The second they got back, she’d report to Gerafit for a psych evaluation. Something was wrong with her brain.
Wells’ barked the order, “Helmets!” Her hands reacted automatically, reaching up to secure the protective gear, flipping the visor down to lock, but her eyes drifted to his face and her heart stuttered to find him watching her. As they touched down, kissed the planet surface and made ready for war, all Amanda could see was the spark in the commander’s eyes.
It burned through her like a laser, more like fire. They headed into hostile territory, into battle, and Amanda had already taken the first hit.
Chapter Two
“Jones is down!” Wells yelled from the far end of the corridor. “Chicken, I need that schematic.”
Amanda held position at the corner. Her squad waited, spread out along the hallway in front of Wells and guarding two side passages they’d left behind them. The tracking device attached to her wrist showed their
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