She didn’t see anything at first. But then movement in the distance caught her eye, and she was able to make out a tall, green-camouflaged body standing from a crouching position in the underbrush. She recognized the general’s broad shoulders even before his voice called through her bracelet. “Take cover, Highness. We just got word that Fleece is arriving early. He won’t expect you to be here yet.”
As she glanced up at the noonday sky, thankful there was nothing in sight but a few wispy clouds, Kane took her hand and towed her toward the tangle of thorny bushes behind the trees. Once they were in the thick of it, someone tossed her a length of green mesh. She caught the netting and knelt on the ground with Kane, pulling it over both their heads.
From her new vantage point, she counted the soldiers around her. The squadron was smaller than she’d expected, no more than a dozen men, but each was armed, crouched, and ready, watching the skies with laser focus. Nearest to the pasture, two men sat in front of the group with a suitcase-size box she recognized as electronic hobbling equipment. Their job was to disable the ship from taking off once it’d landed. Beside them, about two yards away, another man gripped a set of hydraulic pliers, perfect for forcing open the boarding hatch. Then the rest of the soldiers would storm the ship to capture Fleece and his men.
She had every reason to be hopeful.
But the waiting was torture.
She had to keep wiping her sweaty palms on her pants. Kane passed the time by inspecting his pulse pistol, which only added to her stress because it forced her to picture him in the line of fire. Planning the raid had seemed simple, just a matter of applying the right strategy. She hadn’t given much thought to the soldiers who would carry out her orders. But now, surrounded by all these men, it occurred to her that as their queen, she was responsible for the lives of every single one of them.
That turned her stomach.
A distant roar drew her attention skyward, where a passenger craft descended toward the pasture. At least twice the size of the Banshee with three times the thruster power, the ship was long and sleek, bearing the name ORIGIN in block lettering painted on its underside.
“Here we go,” Kane said, holstering his pistol. He repositioned into a crouch, like a runner poised at the starting line.
Cassia felt the sensation of being watched. She glanced to the left and met Jordan’s gaze, who pointed at her and then at the ground in a message to stay put. She nodded and tugged on Kane’s sleeve. “Hey, let’s hold back and let the soldiers do their jobs.”
He opened his mouth and closed it again as a hot gust of wind from the ship’s thrusters pelted them with dust and debris. The Origin had reached the pasture and was hovering above the ground about twenty yards from the tree line.
She shielded her eyes and watched its landing gear lower. Two camouflaged soldiers jogged onto the field with the hobbling equipment while the rest of the squadron crept cautiously out of the brush. The Origin’s landing gear had nearly touched the ground when suddenly something small and round dropped out of its waste chute, and the ship rose sharply into the air in takeoff.
There was a moment of confusion, followed by yells of panic. The soldiers dropped their hobbling gear and bolted toward the trees, shouting warnings that Cassia couldn’t hear over the ship’s roaring thrusters. Kane pivoted to face her. He must have understood what was wrong, because she’d never seen so much terror on his face. He mouthed the word bomb and then launched himself toward her, tackling her to the ground. His body landed on top of hers and knocked the air from her chest. The back of her skull connected with hard, packed dirt. There was barely enough time for the pain to register before a burst of scorching wind blew over her, followed by an explosion so violent it shook the ground.
Heat was everywhere. It tightened her skin and singed her clothes. Objects hit the ground all around her. She felt the impact of pebbles on her boots and sensed a staccato series of blows landing on Kane’s body. She peeked out from below his arm and saw patches of flame through the smoke. Her mind’s eye flashed to the soldiers she’d seen running for cover, but she quickly shut down that train of thought and focused on the ones who could be saved.
She squirmed out from beneath Kane and started with him. He had blood in his hair and patches of pink burns forming along both forearms, but otherwise he seemed all right. She helped him sit up and made sure he was lucid before scanning the area for more wounded. In their scorched, bloodied uniforms, the men were hard to distinguish from one another, but she identified General Jordan as he guided two limping soldiers toward the group he’d already assembled in the safe zone.
If there was any control to be had in this situation, he’d found it.