Black Rain Ch. 04

"The moves there, girl," he laughed and winced as she touched the still smoking hole in his thigh.

"I grew up on one of the frontier mining stations," she explained casually, "My father was the administrator for the Korann Seven Outpost."

Sonny only stared.

"A girl has to protect herself," she smiled at him and then asked, "You gonna be okay?"

Sonny nodded, still dumb struck by her display of fighting skill. He smiled, "That was so hot."

"Sweet talker," she said dryly and helped him to his feet. She guided him to the A.I. and said, "Get to work. I'll watch laughing boy here."

Wren looked up at her and sneered.

***

Hessex stood in the remains of the bridge and looked out of the shattered view ports. She could already smell the scent of the rain. They had underestimated the time of the storm's arrival. She cursed silently as her remaining men stood by her, namely Mammon and Kell. They others had gone missing. No sign of them or their weapons. No sign of Kale. Only the body of Jor-Maul had given them any indication of what had happened. And even then, that hadn't said much.

The rest of them were just gone. Wren seemed to have disappeared in the meantime, and with the communications jammed she had little choice but to watch as lightning flashed in the roiling sky above.

"Could we make it to the shuttle in time?" she asked Kell.

"Doubtful, Mistress."

Hessex sighed. "Great."

"Still no contact with the Black Wraith or with the other members of the team," Mammon reported as he slapped his radio set hard.

"Beating the equipment won't make it work any more efficiently," she commented.

A cold chill gripped the base of her spine and crawled up to her neck, causing her nipples to grow hard under her chest plate. Something was wrong with this planet. There were some places in the vast ocean of space that seemed to have an aura all their own, a unique quality that made them as much a living thing as the life forms that inhabited it. While some planets were dead husks or lifeless rocks spinning and tumbling to their ultimate end, others were graced with life.

Hessex could not feel that sign of life here. In fact, as she breathed in the air it was as though she were inhaling the carbon dioxide from a huge dragon's lungs. Everything here felt spent, or worse a façade to hide something more sinister. While the jungle beyond was lush and green, as was the fauna blanketing the valley in which this ship had crashed, it all felt false to her.

She looked to the sky and knew they would never make it back to their shuttle in time. The clouds above were spinning slowly. Odd colors ranging from black purples to heated oranges misted and birthed only to be swallowed up in the ever-changing formation. Lightning streaked across the sky, leaping from one bold thunderhead to another in a sizzling electric blue display.

"Your orders, Mistress?" Mammon asked.

She thought of the white alien she had killed in the ship. Hessex had never seen anything like it before, and while it had been easy to take down, she wondered if she would have been so fortunate had she not caught if off guard.

Several computer terminals in the aft of bridge flickered on as power was restored to the crippled ship. Their weapons rose immediately and without thought. It was instinct. In their line of work, instinct often meant the difference between a fat payday and the business end of a blaster.

"Wren?" she spoke into her headset.

Again, nothing.

She turned to Kell and said, "We'll go to the A.I. and find Wren, take the computer and wait the storm out. We can make camp here on the bridge and seal off that access door until the storm breaks and we can call for help."

"Understood," Mammon grunted.

Hessex looked to Kell. The younger male was gazing to the sky, his face shadowed with fear.

"Kell?" she asked.

"Mistress," he snapped his head back to face her, "Forgive me."

"What troubles you?"

"Is it true what they say about the rain, my Lady?" Kell asked.

Hessex looked to the sky once more.

"I believe so," she said.

***

Standing in the shuttle was all the proof Tishara needed about the identity of the Jah-Haran before them. Gordon, Howe and Chastity were resting on one of the long bench seats in the cargo hold. Normally, that hold could have held maybe ten pirates for a raiding party. Instead, it was loaded with supplies and gear to the point of leaving barely enough room for her weary search party to sit without rubbing elbows. Tishara noticed that the walls were covered with the bulky, angular language of the Jah-Haran people. She touched the intricate markings on the walls and said, "These are strange."

"They're incantations," Gordon spoke up, "Jah-Haran clerics use them to ward off bad spirits and demons."

There were red symbols all over the bulkheads, Jah-Haran inscriptions and most prominently displayed over the hatch to the cockpit was the familiar red and yellow sun symbol. It was the seal of every Jah-Haran vessel ever identified in civilized space.

"Freshly painted too," Tishara frowned as some of the paint came off on her fingertips.

"Never heard of a Jah-Haran pirate needing religious incantations," Howe said.

"This guy isn't a pirate," Chastity said coldly.

In the warm lighting of the shuttle, the Jah-Haran loner seemed to be a pagan warrior figure cast of various bronze and gold metals. He stood in front of the cockpit hatch and removed his facemask. Strong, broad features marked by elegant red tattoos further revealed his lineage. Amber eyes beset deep in tired sockets looked the humans over wearily. As frightening as he looked, Tishara didn't see the usual Jah-Haran arrogance or dominance.

"Who are you?" she asked.

The loner regarded her doubtfully.

Tishara pointed to the facemask and the translator inside. She said, "You don't really need that, do you?"

"...beating a dead horse," Chastity remarked.

"No," the loner said quietly, his voice deep and guttural, "I can understand you."

Tishara had a thousand things she wanted to ask him, a thousand questions that needed answers. Instead of hitting him with all that, she said, "Thank you."

The loner cocked a brow, his flesh an almost blackened orange in the golden lighting of the shuttle. He asked, "For?"

"For helping us with that creature in the jungle."

The loner regarded her for a moment, as though he were coming to decision about Tishara Lee that would be forever permanent. Seeing this, she knelt down and gave a slight bow in respect of Jah-Haran culture. It was a male dominated species, chauvinistic and primitive by human standard, but a culture nonetheless. Being ignorant of that fact here would only make things worse. The loner nodded, "You're welcome. But do not bow before me."

Tishara looked up at him.

The towering alien said, "I am Jor-Halen. I am an outcast from my people because I do not think as they do."

Tishara stood up and offered him her hand, "My name is Tishara Lee. I'm the first officer of the T.S.E.W. Haven."

Halen took her slender white hand in his huge, powerful grip. She thought he might crush every bone in her hand. Instead, he was surprisingly gentle. She couldn't help but smile when Halen said, "The honor is mine."

"Behind me are members of my crew," she motioned to the three humans sitting in the hold, warily watching them, "Gordon, my engineer... Chastity, colony construction technician and Dr. Howe."

"I would not build a colony here," he said to Chastity.

"Neither would I, high pockets," she agreed.

"We crash landed," Howe said.

"I know," the big alien said.

Gordon leaned back against the wall, "What now?"

Halen nodded to them all. Then to Tishara, "You are in danger here."

"We saw a Jah-Haran pirate ship pass over earlier," she said, "Are you attached to them?"

"I was briefly."

Thunder rolled above them again, only this time it was as though they were right next to the colossal rush of air. The shuttle shook violently as the phenomenon faded out to a dull rumble and then a silent whisper. Gordon looked around, his eyes wide. Dr. Howe had gripped one of the supports next to the seat with hands that trembled, the knuckles turning white.

"The rain comes," Halen said quietly.

Tishara nodded and looked past him into the cockpit, through the front windows. She could see distortions forming on the glass, the wavy and blurred world of water over a transparent surface. The steady pattering and then drumming of rain outside filtered through in a hollow, tin sound that was familiar and yet alien. Halen quickly turned, his face worried.

"What is it?" Tishara asked.

"The rain is evil," he said and sat down in his seat in the cockpit. The Jah-Haran keyed the launch sequence into the complex control panel. The engines roared to life like some caged animal waking up, followed by the mechanical whine of the anti-gravity boosters charging themselves. The Jah-Haran had a gracefulness to his motions that Tishara had never seen before. Your typical Jah-Haran pirate had all the delicacy and tact of a bull in a china shop. Halen, on the other hand, worked the controls as fluidly as a fish in water.

"Evil?" she frowned and sat down in the co-pilots chair, "It's just rain."

"Not rain."

"What?"

Halen pointed outside the view port and engaged the exterior illumination. A bright floodlight came on and revealed two things to Tishara that gave her pause. First, the rain was black. It was black like the ink from a schoolmasters well, thick and heavy. It trailed down the glass of the front view ports in translucent murkiness. But it was through this mess that Tishara saw the second unique property of the rain.

Smoke was rising from the hull steadily but surely. Not just in one place either, but all over. She squinted and discovered that the rain was eating through the metal plating. She turned in the chair and said, "Get your shields up."

"No shields," Halen said apologetically, "This is a scouting craft, not a combat fighter."

"No fucking shields?" she blinked.

"No fucking shields," Halen repeated.

"Then get us out of here," she shouted and buckled herself into the oversized seat.

The small transport slowly rose into the black sky as the acidic rain hammered down from above. Smoke trailed and wisped off the tiny ship as she spun around on her axis and came about. The engines fired and they were moving along quickly, but still not fast enough.

"Engines are already suffering damage," Halen growled.

"Can we get into orbit?"

"I do not think so," Halen replied.

Tishara grabbed Halen's thick forearm and said, "Get us back to our ship. We have a better chance there."

"Yo Lee!" Gordon called, "What's going on?"

"We're going back to the ship," she shouted.

"That's the best news I've heard in a long time," Howe breathed, her eyes closed. Her nose cringed suddenly and she asked, "What's that smell? Is something burning?"

"We are," Gordon replied calmly.

"Where?"

"Everywhere," he pointed to the ceiling with one finger. She and Chastity looked up to see the metal roof beginning to discolor and warp. The normally hard, straight-edged construction of the shuttle was starting to lose its rigidity, giving way to a slightly flaccid and drooped look. Steam and smoke were wafting down to them with the acrid stench of disintegrating metal.

"What the fuck?" Chastity screamed, "What the fuck is going on?"

"Acid rain," Tishara shouted.

"Black rain," Halen corrected her, "It's the black rain."

***

It was only when Hessex turned to leave the bridge that she heard the rain begin to fall. Her heart grew faint as she faced the storm. She watched the black liquid hammer down from above, coating the valley and the wrecked starship in a viscous downpour. Kell and Mammon stood behind her, their glowing eyes uncertain and looking to her for leadership. She found that amusing. For all their posturing and bravado, these males turned to her for leadership.

"I've heard stories about the black rain," Kell said, his voice reverent and subdued, "But to see it is something else."

Hessex looked up at the roof of the bridge. She wondered how much metal and insulation was between them and the rain. She hoped that Terran building methods was as hearty as Jah-Haran practices. Even then, without shields to protect the hull, a mighty ship like the Black Wraith would soon fall to the corrosive properties of the rain. She could already smell the alloys beginning to come unglued and useless under the falling acid. What chance did this ruined hulk have?

"The most secure place right now will be the central alcove," she said as lightning flashed overhead and thunder rolled, "We must go."

Kell stepped back into the corridor and that was when another one of the white monstrosities leapt from the shadows. It tackled Kell hard, throwing him back on to the bridge and into a mound of mangled circuits and wiring. The creature was nearly as large as he was, and from the roars of agony escaping Kell's mouth, the two were not even close to being an equal match.

Hessex raised her weapon to fire but was tagged hard in the arm. Kell's fingers were squeezing the trigger of his rifle, firing wildly as the alien clamped its jaws down on his neck. She tumbled back, her weapon released from her shocked arm. She could smell her own scorched flesh. Pain shot from one end of her body to the other. She quickly gathered herself up and then took a dive for her blaster.

"Kell!" Mammon bellowed and began firing at the alien. He stepped up close to it, almost within arms reach as the fleshy creature ravaged Kell's neck, severing muscle, sinew and bone as though the were nothing more than cheap wet cloth.

Hessex cursed, her shot blocked by Mammon. From up in the ductwork of the bridge ceiling she saw something bulky and pale move. She shouted, "Mammon get back!"

He did not hear her warning. The alien was out of the vent and on him as quickly as it had emerged from hiding. Mammon cried out, his right shoulder caught in the eyeless monster's maw. It began dragging him backwards and towards the open tear in the hull at the front of the bridge.

Towards the outside world.

Towards the black rain.

Hessex made a desperate grab for his leg as he went by, kicking and pounding his fists against the side of the alien's head. The white behemoth seemed unconcerned with his vicious and powerful blows. Her fingers grasped his boot and held tight. She summoned all her strength and grabbed one of the consoles with her wounded arm, wrapping around and holding fast. The cauterized hole in her shoulder sang out a song of pain that made her eyes water. Her lips curled back from her teeth and growled against the agony.

"Mammon!"

"Mistress!" he screamed, "Help me!"

And then the boot came off and Mammon was rocketing towards the tear. The white alien slipped through, but Mammon was wide and too big to make such an easy exit. He slammed against the jagged metal, and for a moment Hessex thought the alien might let him go. Instead, there was a sudden tug backwards and the hiss of air escaping Mammon's lungs. Bone snapped and shattered as his body bent sideways, so that his feet slapped against his skull. With a final wet crunch the pirate's spine broke in half, folding him neatly and his body was yanked though the tear and into the rain.

"Mammon!"

Hessex scrambled to the window, her weapon in steady in her good hand. The remaining reinforced plexi-glass exploded outward and she took aim and fired. Mammon was howling in the dark. He was still alive somehow. And the rain was eating him alive. She tried to find him, to see any hint of where he lay. The light beacon on her blaster rifle had been broken in the fight, and now useless to assist her. She called out, "Mammon!"

Is she could only find him, she could put him out of his misery.

More screams, high pitched and so unlike a Jah-Haran pirate, came back to her, this time further away.

And then there was growl behind her. How could she have forgotten?

Gritting her teeth, she spun around and aimed for the alien that was atop Kell. She charged the weapon, letting the pale demon concentrate on its feeding. She thought it was odd that the alien made no move to get out of the way. In fact, it seemed as though the beast had no interest in her at all. It was focused on Kell and on him alone.

"Die," she whispered, the glowing red display on the side of her weapon indicating that a full charge had been established, "Just die."

She fired.

The alien and Kell exploded in a flash of fluorescent green energy and bloody debris. Hessex stood there for a moment, only the drumming of the rain on the decaying hull keeping her company. In the distance, one final bellow carried across the wind from Mammon and then was gone.

"May the Gods save us," she whispered.

In the corridor, something moved. Hessex set the charge on her gun and stepped towards the door, teeth bared and eyes blazing. She had to get to the central alcove.

"Who's next?" she growled, stepped into the hellish light of the corridor and opened fire.

***

"We're not going to make this," Tishara said. The seat in which she was strapped was vibrating badly now, shaking her to the point of her teeth chattering.

"Does your vessel have a shuttle bay?" Halen yelled over the turbulence of the storm as he worked the yoke, trying to keep his ailing craft level and in the air.

"We used to," Gordon yelled from the back, "It's smashed under the wreckage."

"We have to get out of this," Halen said. The lights in the shuttle began to dim and flicker. The stench of the rain was only amplified by the smell of burning metal.

The shuttle cleared the jungle and descended into the valley, speeding towards the Haven. Tishara could see the ship in the distance as lightning seared past the cockpit, casting a skeletal glow over the world. She was about call out to her crew that they were almost home when the shuttle lurched forward and then began tilting to the portside engine. A tired whine and sudden explosion rocked the shuttle. In the cargo hold, the straps holding Gordon and Howe to their seats snapped from the weakened metal supports, sending both of them to the deck.

"Look out!" Chastity screamed.

Gordon looked up to see the ceiling starting to cave in. The roof had bowed down like circus tent, or some kind of wax replica under too much heat to maintain its integrity. Without thinking he grabbed Howe and yanked her towards him. Together, they rolled under the bench they had been sitting on a few minutes early. Chastity unbuckled her harness and dove under her own bench, eyes shut tight and breath held. Everyone felt the air rip from their lungs as the cockpit and cargo hold depressurized, the air sucking out through the growing hole in the stern ceiling supports. The roof opened up and began falling to the deck in an acrid plume of steam and toxic vapor. Liquefied metal pooled thickly on the deck as the rain poured in.

"Gordon!" Tishara screamed, her hair whipping wilding in front of her face. She looked back but could only see a mound of decaying alloys where the cargo hold had been early.

"Stay where you are," Halen shouted, "Do not move!"

Tishara turned back around and eyed the Haven. After a moment, she said, "Can you get us to the ship?"

"Yes," he said, struggling against the controls, "But we won't be able to put down safely. The landing gear is damaged."

"Don't worry about that," she said, "This heap have weapons?"

"Yes."

She pointed at the broad starboard side hull of the Haven and said, "Blow it open."

Halen looked at her.

"The metal is already soft," she glared at him, "It's nothing but storage in that section. If we can get inside there we can try a crash landing where the rain isn't eating us alive."