Defender: A Terran Times Tale

Dark elves, Raiders and a munitions specialist lead to a new life on a locked world and a hunt for a lost code.

Scotia enjoys blowing things up for a living. As telekinetic munitions specialist, she is assigned to blow up the Ikanni station. There is only one problem. She needs to cut off the system defences before she blows it, and there is no way to get inside with the place crawling with Raiders. She needs the code, and the only person who has it is down on Ikanni.

Bael Alder Whiccan was looking at the stars when the streak of light met the crashing and damaged shuttle halfway. He finds the woman at the crash and takes her to the only other one of her kind that he has ever met. Once she is up and around, the impulse to take her becomes a compulsion that he can no longer resist.

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Defender

Copyright © 2013 Viola Grace

ISBN: 978-1-77111-458-5

Cover art by Martine Jardin

All rights reserved. Except for use in any review, the reproduction or utilization of this work in whole or in part in any form by any electronic, mechanical or other means, now known or hereafter invented, is forbidden without the written permission of the publisher.

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Defender

A Terran Times Tale

By

Viola Grace

S
cotia Pickering was enjoying coffee, or what passed for it, with another one of her kind.

Christiena Montague was snickering with amusement as they compared notes on their last assignment.

“I swear, Teeny, I thought that the charge was never going to blow.” Scotia smiled.

“It took a while. I was shocked. Normally, your charges are faster than the speed of thought. Well, they are as fast as thought.” Teeny sipped at her cup and sighed. “One day, they will get the blend right. Until then, I will hope and pray for more contraband and a pot to boil for it.” Scotia laughed. “It was the atmosphere, I swear it. I have never tried to start the explosion through a haze so thick before.”

“It was like pea soup, wasn’t it?” Teeny shuddered, her red hair flipping around her features.

It always amazed Scotia that Teeny was so effective at her job as extraction specialist. It didn’t seem like the diminutive redhead would be capable of strong-arming young fugitives off their holiday worlds. Even for rich aliens, a youngster out past curfew meant they had to take steps.

Teeny had peeled youngsters off thirty-two pleasure planets in the last five years. It had been funny that she ran into Scotia on her last assignment.

“I wish they would post more Terrans together.” Teeny sighed wistfully.

“You know why they don’t. One greedy bastard and we become targets.” Scotia sipped at her make-believe coffee.

“I wish I could get one of those tattoos.” Teeny sighed again. “I wish a lot of things.” Scotia tried to perk up. “So, where are you off to this time?”

Teeny stretched. “I am going on vacation! There is a great beach world with thick jungles and the feel of Hawaii. I have a month of sun, sand and tanning. Well, burning in my case, but I don’t care. It will be lovely just to lie back and not think of anything.”

Scotia felt envy. “That sounds wonderful. I wish I could join you.”

“Where are you off to next?” Teeny asked then winced. “Sorry. I forgot.”

Scotia specialized in demolition, destruction of items that the Alliance left behind and other species were trying to strip down for their own use. It was her job to destroy what she could easily get a hold of without loss of life. She didn’t usually advertise where she was heading next.

“Not a problem. I was just glad to be able to offer you a lift.” Scotia winked. “It’s so nice to see one of ours now and again.”

Teeny lifted the pot and refilled her cup. “I heartily concur. When do you depart?”

“The next rotation. I have to try to hit a slingshot to the jump point.” Teeny blinked. “I rarely fly myself. A what?”

“Oh, to increase speed and save fuel, you skate your ship close to a star and let its orbit whip you around. The key is to pick the right moment to jet off, because if you miscalculate, you will continue around again, wasting the fuel you are trying to save.” She grinned. “I have more successes than screw-ups but not by much.”

Teeny laughed. “I will wish you success and a happy assignment. I hope we meet again, but if we don’t, I am glad we did.”

“Two salmon meet in the ocean and discover that they came from the same stream. I hope the currents are favourable again.” Scotia got to her feet and hugged Teeny goodbye. Her eyes pricked with tears as she said farewell to the only Terran she had seen in two years.

She sighed and stiffened her shoulders as she made her way to her shuttle.

Scotia used a bio scan to get into the secure hangar, and she nodded at the silently working men in high-security uniforms loading the explosives onto her ship.

A worker with a familiar face came to her and handed her the manifest and the target. She nodded. Scotia took care to verify all aspects of the cargo. “Where are the electronics?” Toller pointed, and she opened the box, making sure that none of the detonation modules had been keyed to a specific signal.
Fool me once.

She unpacked and shifted the entire cargo while Toller watched. In her line of business, she had to make sure that everything went off without a hitch, and it wasn’t like she could run to a local electronics shop for additional supplies. This was her last stop before she hit the station in question.

“The camouflage?”

Toller paused and checked then turned and waved another worker over. A series of furious hand signals and the five packets were produced.

Scotia shook her head and examined them closely. They were intact and had no frequency radiating from them.

Toller flicked his fingers in apology and inclined his head.

She checked for the half domes and nodded.

“Shipment accepted.” She pressed her thumbprint to the manifest, and Toller took it from her with a polite nod.

The loading and refuelling crew cleared the hangar as Scotia locked herself in her one-man craft and did a full systems check.

She flicked the command console, and her ship moved over the drop site. A swift signal to station control and a red light pulsed on and off in front of her, going solid before the trapdoor opened to let her fall away from the station.

Her comings and goings were not supposed to be recorded, so her triggering of the notice to the station control hopefully caused them to avoid her image.

The
Indianapolis
was her pride and joy, an experimental stealth ship that was designed to carry one and only one passenger at any time with minimal cargo. It was perfect for her particular job of retiring Alliance facilities overrun by those who would abuse the tech.

Her current assignment was the Ikanni station.

The specs of the station were incomplete, but the original security officer was living on the planet below. She would be able to fill in anything that Scotia couldn’t figure out.

Scotia cued up her music and cranked familiar tunes that she sang along with at the top of her lungs. She had no flight plan, no set trajectory, only the eventual destination. She had time before she had to run silent, and until then, she was going to enjoy herself. It wasn’t a holiday on a dreamy paradise planet, but it was as good as she was going to get.

She did the slingshot manoeuvre around the sun and sped her ship toward the high-priority jump zone. It would be nine hours before she hit the zone, so she was going to have a little nap before skipping across star systems.

“Sleep program.”

The music decreased in volume and switched to slow ballads that would lull her into rest. She had two days of travel if she rushed, four if she didn’t.

There was plenty of time to shape the charges and set the detonators to her particular signature.

She set the alarms, the autopilot and the static broadcast.

With a groan, she shucked out of her jumpsuit and folded it neatly. Being able to sleep in the raw was a luxury she enjoyed. Spending time alone meant that she could wear what she liked until the moment her work suit was required. If someone had told her back on Earth that she would go from working in a convenience store to doing EVA’s on a regular basis for the purpose of blowing up old stations and satellites, she would have called them insane.

Humming along with the music, she folded down her bunk and slipped into it. The haunting strains of music flowed into her mind and helped her sleep. The music was the only thing that let her rest. She didn’t know what she would do without it.

T
hree days later, Scotia had thirty charges keyed to her mental signature and a large problem on her hands. The station was broadcasting a signal that would block her charges, and with the Raiders crawling through it, she was going to have a helluva time getting to the control panels.

It was going to be a combination of Plans A and B. Scotia would set the charges on the station and then try to find the needle in the haystack down on the planet below.

She eased the
Indianapolis
into position, locking it into place with the lightest of taps. Her camouflaged EVA suit was on, the ship was in full stealth broadcast and her charges were lined up.

The atmosphere had been purged from her ship three hours ago, so there was no gas trace when she opened the door. With slow, sure movements, she set the charges, taking her time so as to not gain the attention of the ships surrounding the station.

She wanted to whistle inside her helmet, but the only sound was her soft breathing as she placed shaped charge after shaped charge. When everything was in place, she paced slowly back to her ship and sealed the hatch.

With the Raiders hovering around, things were going to get dicey. Connecting to the station hadn’t been a problem but getting away was going to be quite a trick.

Using her sensors was out of the question, so she was going to have to eyeball the release to allow her access to the surface.

She crossed her fingers and released the seals that held her to the station. She let her ship fall away from the huge structure, but her plan went awry when one of the Raider ships came toward her.

She had a decision to make, accept the collision or avoid it. Playing chicken had never been her forte, so against her better judgement, she throttled her ship to life and made a beeline for the planet below.

The impact of the first strike ripped a hole in her hull, but she was still wearing her suit and mask. The lack of atmosphere didn’t affect her, but her ship wobbled dangerously.

A second strike caused a stream of numbness to her thigh, and she flicked open the coms as she let her ship identify itself. “Ikanni base command, this is the
Indianapolis
requesting intervention. I have unfriendlies on my tail.”

“This is Base Command.
Indianapolis,
you are inside our satellites and not close enough for the guns. We will keep an eye out for you, just come on in.”

“Acknowledged. Pick up the pieces if you can.” She grunted as another hit struck her, and her vision grew spotty.

Scotia avoided looking at her leg, because she had the sneaking suspicion it wasn’t there anymore. The base finally appeared on her screens, but she was fading fast. A bright light came up from the planet and passed through her front screen, moving inside the cabin and hovering in front of her. Whatever it was sent her a comforting thought before it spiked into her chest a moment before a final strike shattered her ship into pieces.