Dark Clouds, Rolling Thunder
War and Peacekeeping
Location: VIP Quarters - Deck Whatevra
Counselor Ernesto Miranda, deputy negotiator for the Trion Government, had found himself bored after spending so many days cooped up in the Federation vessel. No open land, no hunting, no easy women. Dragging himself out of his room he went on the prowl, finding the late hour led to lower inhibitions be it from lack of sleep or alcohol. Usually it was the time of night he'd drive through the capital finding women to escort back to his chambers. Perhaps he would have similar luck on the Astraea.
Stepping out of his quarters with a bottle of cachaca in his hand, most of it gone, his eyes flicked hungrily through the corridor. Security had been light, the Federation having faith in the Government officials to behave. It was faith misplaced as Ernesto found his prey, prettily adorned with rainbow hair, "Hola! Seniorita!"
Ashe was not even remotely in the mood for being nice or making small talk. It was late, she was tired, some ensign had drank to the point that he'd upchucked on her brand new boots. Add to that the fact that Aleksi hadn't showed up at the bar as he'd hinted he would and she knew that she was nearing breaking point. All she wanted was a long, very hot shower and then crawling in to her bed and relax. Still, she always made it a point to be polite and now would be no exception.
With a smile, Ashe turned to face the individual who had spoken to her. Taking in his lack of uniform, Ashe decided to assume that he was one of the guests on the ship. "I speak English, the universal translator translates all languages to standard Federation," she said with a smile. "How can I help?"
"I was," He leaned against the bulkhead for a second, letting his mind catch up with his words. A smile spread across his face. She was much prettier when she faced him, "Let me restart, I am Ernesto," He stuck out his hand as he approached her, "Pleasure to meet you."
Ashe held her hand out, though somewhat tentatively. "Ashe," she said quietly. There was something about his presence that set her offside. "If you need help, how about I get someone from security for you?" she offered, heading toward the nearest console to summon someone else.
His hand gripped hers tighter, "No no Senorita, I was wondering if you could use some help. A young woman all alone, it's a dangerous to be out here," A slight cruelness could be seen in his smile. In a former life he had worked for the state secret police and he was more than capable of coercion, "Who knows what vagrants you can run into."
Ashe looked up at him, wincing at the grip he had on her wrist. "There is no one that belongs on this ship that I'm afraid of," she said determinedly. "My lover will be waiting for me in my quarters, he knows I've left the bar, if I'm not home soon he'll come looking for me." She held her head high, looking him straight in the eye, almost as if she were challenging him.
It was that sort of fight he enjoyed, the fight he had seen in dozens of women before her and likely dozens afterwards. A dark chuckled emanated from his throat, "Good, the perhaps he can wait a little while longer my little barkeep," He was able to dig though his alcohol addled mind, but the hair, the hair was recognizable. Forcefully he pulled her towards him, "I only require a few moments of attention, an hour at most."
"Then let me find someone in security who can help you," Ashe replied, again attempting to pull her wrist away. "I can't help you." She felt herself being pulled toward him, turning her head away instinctively. "Let go of me," she hissed, again tugging at her wrist. "Let go of me or I'll scream."
"Oh, please do," His smile grew more wicked as he moved towards her neck, taking in her scent. His body shook with anticipation. The worse that could happen now was that he was drug to his quarters and forced to cool off. The Federation wouldn't risk souring the relationship with Trion 8, especially after the rich deuterium mines were revealed during the negotiations.
Ashe tried to pull away from him, wincing as he pulled her toward him again. "I mean it, let go of me now," she warned, her voice holding true with a bravado that she didn't actually feel. Even she knew it was well beyond the time most of the crew were in bed, those that were still awake were largely restricted to duty stations, she was on her own. "Get away from me..." she cringed, tugging her wrist away again. "Don't touch me."
Grabbing her other wrist he pulled her in, feeling confident in the situation. Mere meters from his quarters he could have his way and be done with her. He just needed his fix, the oligarch would understand, he was too valuable. Her protests were just aphrodisiacs to him, perhaps in a different tongue but the drug was all the same.
With her free hand, Ashe struck out, her palm striking him directly against the side of his face as she simultaneously pulled away from him again. "I said let go!" Ashe's voice rose with her words. "Get your God damned hands off me!"
Grabbing her free hand he chuckled, not bothering to respond to her. She was just another toy for him to take to his room to play with, given a few more minutes her batteries would run out and then the real fun would begin. Forcefully he started dragging her to his quarters, a demonic eagerness in his eyes.
The struggle didn't last long, it took barely a few moments before the doors closed behind them, effectively sealing her away from the rest of the ship. Realising the position she was in, she fought back against him again, one foot kicking out at his shins as she screamed, trying to bite down on his wrists as his hands held her firmly. "LET GO OF ME!"
A grunt escaped him as her foot made contact with his shins, his body reminding him that he we not so young as he once was. Stepping back for a brief moment, his eyes glaring at her as if she was a disobedient dog, "Scream all you want Puta, no one will hear you," Closing the distance again he pinned her to the wall, one hand over her mouth, the other fumbling with her shirt.
Feeling herself pinned against the wall, Ashe started to struggle again, the smell of alcohol on his breath, his face so close to hers, she pushed against him, turning her head away. His hand clasping over her mouth was making it difficult to breathe. Closing her eyes, she opened her mouth against his hand and bit down hard.
A yelp escaped him, removing his hand from her mouth and shaking it. The lust in his eyes now tinged with a fiery rage. His hand balled into a fist, ready to strike when his senses took over briefly. No, bruises would not do well in this scenario. Opening up his hand he slapped her across the face, "Relax, it will hurt less."
The stinging slap left her reeling, her eyes tearing at the blow. She turned her head away, her hand instinctively coming up to cover her face. It was the sound of the fabric of her shirt tearing, the sudden feel of the cool air against her skin that startled her again. Pulling her hands in, she pushed back against him, screaming as he pulled her shirt open. Striking out, she hit him one, two, three times in the side of his head before she felt his hands circle around her throat, tightening, pulling her forward and then slamming her hard back into the wall, hard enough to make her vision blur. Sucking in a sharp breath, she pulled her hands up again, still trying to push him away from her.
Shaking his head he growled, half out of frustration and half out of primal desire. The fire of lust burned hotter, his grip around her throat closing tighter. It was instinct, knowing where to press to weaken his pray, forcing them into darkness. Sure, the first few had been killed as he learned but this, this had become an art and even a half bottle in it was one he knew well. He wanted to tell her not to struggle, that it would all be over soon, but decided against it. Why spoil the fun?
Feeling her thoughts becoming fuzzy, Ashe finally realized the gravity of the situation she was in. Reaching blindly with one hand, she started grasping for something, anything to get her hand around, that she might be able to use for a weapon. There was a crashing sound as a lamp and a side table fell, but still Ashe kept reaching and fumbling as she started to lose consciousness.
He struggled to keep his grip on her, while stronger she was much more nimble. Readjusting his grip once more he could feel the fight leave her, her body going limp as he lowered her to the floor. In her state even if she woke up soon she'd be too groggy to do anything. Still, he wasted no time in taking off his pants and moving to do the same to her.
Ashe wasn't sure how long she'd been out of it for, but it had been long enough that she'd lost the ability to defend herself. A half groan, half whimper escaped her lips as her eyes flickered open slowly, she blinked, trying to clear her blurred vision, one hand slowly snaking across the carpeted floor, fingers searching for anything she might be able to use to defend herself.
Her fingers closed around something, the shape familiar. It was a bottle a solid glass bottle. Gripping it with all the strength she could muster, she picked it up, swinging it down sharply onto the back of his head, then pulling it back and swinging again.
His fingers had been working the buttons of her pants when the first blow struck him, immediately fogging his mind. He had been so focused on satisfying his primal desires he hadn't noticed the woman recover. Lifting his arms up to try and stop the next blow, she managed to crack it against his temple, crumpling him on the floor.
Pulling herself out from underneath him, Ashe swung the bottle again, cracking it again against his head, each new impact punctuated by a word. "I..." smack "said..." smack "don't..." smack "fucking..." smack "touch..." smack "ME!"
Finally setting the bottle in front of her, Ashe drew a deep shuddery breath, her shoulders starting to shake with pent up tears threatening to unleash. She blinked quickly, brushing away the stray tears as she tried to will her vision to clear. Her neck was burning with pain and the side of her face still ached from the stinging blow he had delivered earlier.
Between heavy breaths and shaky shoulders she started by trying to fix her clothing. The buttons on her jeans had been torn away, her shirt was ripped open and she was covered in blood, his blood... but she was alive. Slowly her gaze turned to the body on the floor, wincing as she realised the damage she had caused.
Her breath caught in her throat as she crawled backwards, trying to put distance between her and the body. She was a civilian and he was essentially a diplomatic delegate. There was no way anyone was going to accept this as anything less than murder.
With another whimper as she scrambled back even further, looking around the room, her eyes widening with alarm. She couldn't just walk out and pretend like nothing had happened, someone would see her, or there would be security footage or something to tie it back to her.
"Computer," she ordered quietly, her voice shaking despite her best attempts to keep calm. "Open a direct communications channel to Lieutenant Aleksander Voroshilov..."