Black Rain Ch. 03

Soniah sensed this and eyed her, "Lieutenant?"

Miranda felt tears welling in her eyes. Only one man had been on the bridge with her before the crash, and he was sitting next to her as defiant and unpleasant as ever. She looked at Harmon from the corner of her glassy blue eyes and felt sick to her stomach. If he had raped her, then there was a chance she might have gotten pregnant. She couldn't bear the thought of that. She and her husband had tried for so long to have a child only to be graced with regular periods and many tests revealing negative results.

"If there's something wrong," Ashton spoke up, "You can tell us."

"Tell them, Miranda," Sonny added as he glared at Harmon, "You tell them, baby."

"Tell us what?" Soniah asked.

Miranda explained her delicate physical condition to her shipmates, feeling both embarrassed beyond belief and terrified. The entire time she spoke, Harmon only looked off beyond the shoulder of his captain, his round face placid and devoid of emotion. He looked sedated, almost peaceful. The details of Miranda's condition and the damning evidence pointing to Harmon seemed to be of no concern. He simply sat there as Soniah and Ashton questioned her and sympathized.

Harmon had expected nothing else. If he were the black sheep of the crew, then Miranda Paisley was undoubtedly the golden child.

"What is your response to this, Mr. Harmon?" Soniah asked, her piercing feline eyes staring at him.

He looked at her and asked, "To what? That I raped her?"

Soniah waited, as did Ashton and Sonny.

Harmon looked at them all and couldn't help but laugh to himself. They had already passed judgment on him as it was. He could read it in the faces, from the stern look on blue-skinned bitch's face to the promise of comeuppance burning in Sonny's eyes. He shook his head and smiled, "Lady, it doesn't matter much what I say."

"I think it does," she replied.

Harmon looked away, feeling neither condemnation nor guilt.

"What is your function aboard the Haven?" she asked.

"Does it matter now?"

"Answer the question, Harmon," Ashton said. His patience was growing thin. For as serious as all this was, Robert Harmon seemed to be taking it like a joke.

"I am the systems analyst for the A.I., primary and secondary systems," he said matter-of-factly and glared at Soniah.

"What does that mean?" she asked.

"It means I inspect and maintain the ship's vital functions before, during and after a mission."

"Does this include the cryogenics systems?"

"Yes."

"Does this include the navigational systems?"

Harmon cocked a brow, "Yes it does."

"Would it be fair to say that you are, essentially, the caretaker of the crew and passengers during a mission?"

Harmon breathed deep, steeling himself to betray nothing though he felt like a water balloon with a pinprick and leaking steadily. He said, "Yes, that is true."

"You asked me does it matter what your job was," Soniah said, "There are twenty-three dead people in the sleeper bay who might have an answer for that. And I imagine before long we'll discover that people in the port bow might have a similar condition and opinion. Does it matter, Mr. Harmon? I think so."

"What are you trying to say?" he rolled his eyes, "That I sabotaged the ship?"

"No one has uttered the word sabotage here," she said coolly, "But the fact remains that this ship was diverted from her course and subsequently crashed beyond repair. The only two people awake during this time were you and Lieutenant Paisley."

Harmon folded his arms across his chest. He felt the walls closing in on him fast. His plan had never included the event of having to explain his presence on the bridge, let alone Paisley's as well. It looked bad for him and he knew it.

"Why did you exit cryosleep early?"

"The computer woke me up," he replied.

"Why?"

"We came into contact with another ship in-flight," he said.

"You do know that the A.I. is programmed to wake the captain first?" Sonny asked.

Harmon glared at him, "It woke me instead."

"You'll forgive me if I say I find that impossible," Sonny said.

"A lot of things are impossible for you," Harmon remarked.

"According to the flight recorder," Sonny cocked his brow, "We didn't encounter the other ship until after the drop from hyperspace."

"Then it must be faulty data," Harmon replied, his heart thudding heavily in his chest.

"Did you find the lieutenant on the bridge?" Soniah asked.

"Yes," Harmon lied, his hands sweating profusely.

"Then why," Soniah folded her arms over her chest, "Would the communications officer have been woken up before you or the captain?"

Harmon licked his lips.

"Answer the question, Harmon," Ashton said. It wasn't a suggestion. His captain had given him an order.

"I don't know," he finally said.

"And yet it is your job to monitor these systems," she said, "To know what is happening and where?"

Harmon looked away and wiped away the mustache of sweat he had grown in the last few minutes.

"And you still have no idea how she came to be naked on the bridge?" Soniah asked doubtfully.

"No," he insisted.

"People don't sleep nude in the cryo-tube," Sonny interjected, "I checked her tube and found her top and bottoms in there."

Miranda felt like she was ready to puke.

Soniah nodded to herself and looked at Ashton, not that it mattered if she looked at him or did a dance in front of him. The man was blind now, and a blind man was of no use to her. She hadn't wanted to be here anymore than the others, and the idea of being stuck on this backwater planet with a blind man in charge made her furious. She was supposed to be overseeing the construction of the colony on Delta Prime, not acting as a prosecutor in some gerry-rigged captain's mast.

"You have no idea how the ship came to be diverted from its course?" she looked at Harmon.

The heavyset engineer looked down at his hand, twiddling his thumbs back and forth. His face was red and though he hadn't said much, Soniah could tell the man was ready to have a conniption. She said, "Did you hear me, Mr. Harmon?"

"Yes," he looked up from his lap, "And no I do not know how that happened. The captain shot me before I could finish my analysis. I don't know anything."

"You locked the doors to the bridge," Ashton said, "And you fired on me first."

"I didn't know what was happening," he replied, unable to look at his captain's blind eyes, "For all I knew you were a raider or some half-assed space pirate."

"And when I yelled for you to stop?"

Harmon wanted to scream.

"I don't know anything," he repeated.

That was a lie. He recalled everything with perfect clarity, though he didn't dare tell anyone that. He could remember everything from reprogramming the A.I. before they left Earth to wake him early to the sabotage of the navigational array to the moment he brought Paisley to the bridge. So he had taken advantage of her. Big fucking deal. Any of the others would have too, given to opportunity. Paisley was a blond bombshell with a body to die for.

'And your dick is the reason you didn't see the other ship in time,' he thought to himself dismally.

He knew, even as he had pulled her out of the cryotube, her body doped up on enough sedatives to keep her out until he finished framing her for the job, that he should have just kept focused on the job. But when he gave in to temptation and undressed her, feeling her full tits in his hands and cupping her sex with his fingers he could not stop. She was the forbidden fruit he had been lusting after for years now. And this was the only chance he would get to have her.

After carrying her to the bridge, he figured he had a little free time. The security recordings were going to be erased anyway and no one was up and about. Why not have a little fun, he reasoned. He always suspected she was a dirty little slut and when he had finished fucking her, he knew for sure. He knew he had violated her, and he knew what he had done was rape.

But he didn't care.

He had loved it.

He'd loved it so much he had gotten sloppy. The minor course correction that would have put the Haven off schedule for a month in deep space, and thus causing the corporate powerhouse backing the expedition to default on some hefty loans from his employers became a serious problem. As if it had been preordained, the new course heading had taken them into the flight path of another vessel. Now, in retrospect, Harmon laughed at the irony and amazing odds of two ships colliding on the same course in the same backwater sector in this big a galaxy. The odds were astronomical, and yet it had happened all the same.

Harmon had always prided himself on being meticulously accurate in everything he did. Even when it came to stabbing his friends in the back, he held on to this maxim. For the amount of money his employers had paid him for this one small job, he felt he owed it to them.

As he listened to the blue-skinned bitch go on and on about the implausibility of their story and her doubts about his honesty, he realized that the anger he felt wasn't over the people who had died in the crash. It wasn't over the fact that in all likelihood the crew would die here or that poor Miranda Paisley had cheated on her husband or that righteous Captain Ashton had lost his sight. He was pissed that he had gotten careless for a little piece of ass. The job had suffered. Oh, the men back on Earth who had dreamed the plot up would be thrilled; the Haven was lost and they wouldn't have to pay the remainder of the money to him.

'Fuck,' he hissed inwardly, 'Fuck fuck fuck...'

And now, if it was discovered that he had been the one responsible for the crash, he had no doubt that Sonny and his oversized ape Gordon would kill him. Ashton would try to stop it, and Tishara would too but in the end one of the cocksuckers would get to him.

'FUCK!'

"Are you listening to me, Harmon?" Soniah asked.

"Captain," he said after a moment, "Are you pressing charges?"

"Harmon, this is serious," Ashton replied coolly.

"So am I," he laughed, "Because I feel like I'm on trial here. I don't remember what happened. For all I know Paisley and I got a case of the DSD's and lost it for a moment. What is this shit anyway? A fucking kangaroo court?"

"Enough, Harmon," Ashton said.

"You might as well lynch us, because you've asked all the questions you can think of and I've given all the answers I know."

Ashton supposed they might have succumbed to DSD, or as it is more eloquently spoken amongst eggheads Deep Space Dementia. It's been known to happen to more than one person on a long haul through space. Sometimes, the change in gravity and the isolation can fuck with your mind. Sometimes you go a little crazy after being in suspended in a cryo-tube for months and even years on end. It wasn't a permanent affliction, but it sure as hell knocked some efficiency off the gray matter in a matter of days after a thaw.

"Did you sabotage the Haven, Lieutenant Paisley?" Soniah asked the communications officer.

Paisley looked up with glassy blue eyes and said, "No. I would never do anything like that," and then to Ashton, "Please sir, you know me. I've never given you a reason to doubt me in the last five years, have I?"

Ashton shook his head, "No, you haven't."

"I know something happened," she began to sob, her hands instinctively falling to her crotch. She could still feel the penetration of Harmon's penis inside her. A cold space had formed in her sex, and it chilled her to the core. She missed the warmth of her husband and the safety of his arms. She had never wanted to be with Harmon, not once. She was a good wife, and she was loyal. And now... how could she ever explain this?

"Easy," Ashton tried to soothe her, his hand raised up. He wished he could see her and reassure her, but only found the harsh reality of the dark. He said, "Easy, Miranda. No one is going to be lynched, despite what Harmon might say."

"I suppose DSD is an explanation for their behavior," Soniah said to the captain, "But it still doesn't explain how the ship was thrown off course like that."

"Some one is lying here," Ashton said, "When Sonny is able to access the flight recorder we'll know more."

"Speaking of which," Sonny said, "I better go check on the computer. Analysis should be complete."

"Go to it," Ashton nodded.

"Oh and Harmon?" Sonny said over his shoulder.

Harmon looked at him.

"If I find out you did anything to her, I'll kill you."

"Sonny," Soniah spun and faced him, her eyes glowing, "Stop it this instant."

Sonny only glared at Harmon and said, "Sorry."

"You're excused Sonny," Ashton said sternly, "No more bullshit, understand?"

"Yes sir," he breathed and then added to Harmon, "See ya around, Bob."

Harmon sat back in his chair, arms crossed and heart pounding in his chest. He had altered the sensor logs to show a ship passing by at close range to explain the course alteration and drop from hyperspace, but if Sonny went through the memory with a fine tooth comb then his deception could be revealed.

'SHIT!' he cursed inwardly.

If all had gone to plan, by the time anyone wised up to his actions he would have already hopped the first shuttle home and been living it large on some Caribbean island on Earth. But things hadn't gone to plan. All because he had to get himself a fucking piece of ass.

He looked sideways at Miranda Paisley and felt his brain get hot. He wanted to kill her.

'All because of a piece of ass...'

***

A lone shuttle, much like the one that Jor-Halen had landed hours earlier, broke the atmosphere of the alien world in a hail of fire. It streaked across the terminator of the planet into the waning dusk of a foreign sky. While a human, or even a top-of-the-line android might have appreciated the gorgeous pinks and blues of the dying daylight, for Jai-Hessex and her raiding party there was only the reaction of gases in the atmosphere to the radiance of the class-VI sun holding this particular solar system together.

Hessex adjusted herself in her seat, still feeling pained and sore from her sexual interlude with Koor. The captain had stayed behind for some reason and allowed her to lead the raid. She imagined he wanted to keep his eyes on the high ground, waiting for the traitor Jor-Halen to emerge from hiding. That was fine by her count. Her distaste of Koor was growing more viscous and potent with each passing day.

"Mistress," came the rough voice of her pilot, "Landing zone in seven minutes."

"Very good. Land in one of the caves near the foot of the nearest hill as we discussed," she ordered.

"Mistress," the pilot said, "That site is a kilometer from the human vessel."

"And it is also safe from the black rain," she said, "Now do as I have instructed. I do not wish to be stranded here."

"Fear, Jai-Hessex?" came the voice of Jor-Kale.

"There are darker things than the rain here," she said and then turned to the eight members of her party. Jor-Kale, the first officer of the Black Wraith sat beside her, waiting and leering through his fleshy lips. Technically, it should have been Kale leading the raid, but Koor had insisted that Hessex be in charge. If Kale were upset about this, he did not show it.

Across from her sat Wren, his red skin glowing in the dim light of the cargo hold. He held an assortment of weapons in his four, bony hands as though they were extensions of his own body. The Haalken smiled at her and nodded, his gleeful anticipation of the battle to come an almost orgasmic experience for him.

She looked over the faces of the remainder of the compliment. They were all Jah-Haran, all of them dark skinned and all of them tattooed with the symbols of victories past and kills to numerous to count off. They were good crew, full of spirit and loyalty to their captain. Hessex trusted them with her life and they trusted her in kind.

"Ready yourselves," she said and checked the leather straps of her armor as the pirates made their final preparations. Their clothing and armor was dark and made for stealth, a conglomeration of different articles from the many ships and crews that they had raided. They only took the best of the best. Hessex leaned down and felt the dagger attached to her thigh-high boots, the sheath bound to the many black buckles by metal studs. The handle felt cool against her hand and she smiled.

"Time to storm front?" she asked the pilot.

"Three hours, Mistress," he reported. Outside, the evening was growing into waning daylight. The heavy clouds of the coming storm loomed outside the view port, an unstoppable juggernaut. She had seen what the rain here could do, and she was determined to be clear of this place before it fell. She feared the rain here even more than she feared Jor-Koor.

"Time is short," Wren said.

"Yes it is," Hessex agreed, "So don't make a burden of yourself."

"My place here is no more a burden than the leadership of a woman," the Haalken replied sharply, "I'll mind myself if you do the same."

Hessex smiled as her amber eyes flashed, "I mind the will of our captain, Wren. Not the impotence of his underlings."

Jor-Kale snickered at this.

"What's so funny?" Wren hit him on the shoulder.

"Nothing," Kale looked at his blaster rifle, "Nothing at all."

"Calm yourself," Hessex said evenly to the Haalken, "Focus on the task at hand."

Wren growled and within a seconds time had his long, wicked blaster aimed at her forehead, the nose of the gun a mere inch away from her flesh. The wiry red alien sneered, "Where I come from, we kill women for simply speaking out of turn."

"Is that why your race is on the verge of extinction?" Hessex replied, her face unmoved by his sudden outburst. Wren felt his bony fingers trembling on the trigger and was ready to pull when Kale tapped him on the shoulder. He looked to the large pirate and saw him pointing downwards. Wren looked down into his lap and saw the long blade of a thick dagger pressed against his crotch. Hessex pressed the tip against him enough to give him a feel of the tip.

Wren snorted and pulled his weapon back, his black eyes burning with rage.

"There's a reason she's the captain's woman," Kale said under his breath.

Hessex leaned back against the wall of the shuttle and sheathed her dagger again. She was fast, and she knew she was faster than anyone on this shuttle. But Wren, he was far more treacherous. His slippery designs and ideas for what the Black Wraith and her crew should be had always disturbed her, but it was his need to dominant all women that made her despise him. Wren was worse than Koor when it came to that. If Koor had treated her like a slave, the Wren would have treated her like a pile of refuse. They had never gotten along well, and it was only the unflinching loyalty they shared for Koor that kept them from killing each other.

Unflinching until recently anyway. As she watched Wren from the corner of her eye, she wondered if he could sense her doubts about the captain?

Hessex closed her eyes and meditated, seeking comfort and peace. She did not relish the idea of raiding the humans, but she knew it was necessary. Hopefully, the fully bounty of this raid would be enough that they might return home early. There, Hessex entertained the fantasy of leaving the Black Wraith and escaping her bondage. She dreamed of places that probably would never accept a pirate, let alone a Jah-Haran woman who had killed over thirty men and women during her time on the ship.

The taste of blood and the thrill of the hunt had given way to something she had never expected to feel: conscience. When Jor-Halen had approached Koor, bartering a fortune on exchange for passage to this planet, she hadn't understood what was so important. He had shown them scans of hundreds of ships that had crash-landed on the planet, all of them still salvageable. The planet harbored a fortune for a crew brave enough to weather the dangers of its natural defenses. What could have been so important that Jor-Halen would have traded a lifetime of riches for a ride?