Firestorm on E'Terra
By Ella Drake
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About this ebook
Smokejumper and former refugee Wilson Dex takes the latest in a long line of risks, a mission to quell the firestorm on planet E'terra. Equipment from his transport ship malfunctions, forcing by-the-book Commander Samantha Varde dirtside to help Dex though she suffers from landsickness. While fighting the ill-timed and against-code heat between them, they have hours to reprogram a torpedo, fly into a tornado, and chute into a firestorm, all to save the colony before the storm flames out of control.
word count 21,000.
novella previously published 2009 by Liquid Silver Books
Ella Drake
As a child Ella read books under the covers with a flashlight. There she found a special love of elves, dragons, and knights. Now that she's found her own knight in shining armor and happily ever after, she loves to write tales of fantasy, hot enough to scorch the sheets. No flashlight needed.
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Firestorm on E'Terra - Ella Drake
Firestorm on E’Terra
Ella Drake
Firestorm on E'Terra
by Ella Drake
Smokejumper and former refugee Wilson Dex takes the latest in a long line of risks, a mission to quell the firestorm on planet E'terra. Equipment from his transport ship malfunctions, forcing by-the-book Commander
Samantha Varde dirtside to help Dex though she suffers from landsickness. While fighting the ill-timed and against-code heat between them, they have hours to reprogram a torpedo, fly into a tornado, and chute into a firestorm, all to save the colony before the storm flames out of control.
Firestorm on E’Terra
Copyright © 2009 by Ella Drake.
Cover Copyright © 2012 by Ella Drake
Published at Smashwords
Smashwords License Statement
This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each reader. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to Smashwords.com and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.
.
Special thanks to
Original Electronic Edition Editor, Terri Schaefer
Chapter One
Master Sergeant Wilson Dex checked the buckle on his chute, adjusted the fit of his pack strap, and twisted his hips to ensure the equipment on his back didn’t jangle. With a slight tap, he verified his rebreather sat on his chest, ready to fit over his face. All set. In the vast, multi-craft launch bay, he sat next to the hotshot team lining the benches and waited for the go.
Hey smokejumper, ever taken a helo down from a slapshot on the stratosphere? It’s a wild ride.
The punch on Dex’s shoulder would have told him if the laughter following the challenge had not.
Chief,
Dex rolled his shoulder to ease out the sting. I’ve logged enough jump hours to make your entire team look like the babies they are.
Another punch, in the exact same spot, and a knot started to throb in Dex’s upper arm. Without a flinch, he resisted the urge to cup the forming bruise and didn’t move a muscle.
Hell, I know, son. Otherwise I wouldn’t have brought a wild card to work with my team.
Assigned to the mission as a subject matter expert (SME), Dex didn’t point out Chief hadn’t brought him on board. Before the banter could descend into the usual barbs between the loner smokejumper and the cohesive hotshot team of twenty men, the crackle of the speaker reverberated through the open space of the dock bay. Jump is on hold until turbulent electrical storm passes the landing site.
The Chief clicked on the comm attached on his shoulder chute strap. Chief Klein to Captain Varde.
Dex stilled and tried not to eavesdrop on the civilian fire chief who’d muscled his way onto the bench next to Dex, shifting the team, grunting and grumbling, further down. When Dex noticed he held his breath, waiting on the response over the comm, he pushed the air from his lungs with a long sigh.
While Chief’s hail went unanswered, the burly man raised his brows and grinned at Dex. Eager for the jump, eh? Can’t control the weather. Well, not on this new terraform, anyway. When the startup colony makes the money, I’m sure they’ll bring in a weather control expert to get them going.
The leader of this band of firefighters was winding up for another long-winded lecture when his comm clicked.
Chief,
came the precise, even tone of Captain Varde. Though the voice was nearly asexual, and the woman herself controlled and put-together, Dex’s groin tightened, and to his chagrin, his cock hardened. He shifted on the bench and brought his helmet from hanging on a knee to his lap.
Ma’am, do we have an estimate on how long we’re delayed?
Despite trying not to do so, Dex leaned toward the comm on Chief’s shoulder. The Chief raised his brows again, and Dex sat back.
At least a day, Chief. Disperse your team to regroup again in twenty-four.
Aye, aye, skipper.
The off-click took away her voice, as warm and inviting as the synthesized AI unit that ran this ship’s enviro and café systems. Yet, he’d hardened even more, picturing her still face, neat blonde hair with every strand in place, and perfect lipstick he wanted to muss and smear all along his cock.
Dex shifted on the seat again, bumping the hotshot jumper next to him and elbowing Chief. His temporary superior stood and addressed the group of men.
Well, you heard the boss. Same drill, same time tomorrow. Get your gear stowed and put in a regular day. Blow off the steam you all built up waiting for word. Dismissed.
The heat-resistant chromoter strapped to Dex’s wrist showed ten minutes before his reserved zap-ball workout slot. When he’d boarded, he’d received an assigned daily exercise, based on preferences, which he’d not missed, not once, in the two-month intragalactic voyage to E’terra.
With the usual routine disrupted when the StratGlider had achieved orbit and the pending mission aborted, Dex hustled out the door. He hoped his partner wouldn’t miss today’s match.
* * * *
Captain Samantha Varde flipped off the intercom and refused to look at the news feed that had gripped her attention for the past three hours. Still, no matter if the images flashed on the jumbo screen on the bridge of her ship, or played in the privacy of her captain’s quarters, they seemed burned to Samy’s corneas.
The vid played in her mind from memory. Three firefighters, part of a hotshot team specifically trained to put out wildfires, stood around a virtual storylogger to update the public back home on United One. A funnel cloud from the raging firestorm dropped from the sky and vaporized them in a bloody geyser of steam in front of billions of live viewers. The team on board her ship, sent to relieve those three men and the rest of their