The gleaming form of the commercial ship Hunter Gratzner was more than enough to take her breath away. She stared in awe at the ship that would take her far from her past. Her heartbeat accelerated rapidly even as she forced her eager feet to maintain a steady tempo.
The sun beat down hard on her sweatshirt-covered shoulders. Her work-calloused hands remained hidden in her pockets where she nervously fiddled with the boarding pass to the ship. Her worn black leather pants felt hot against the skin on her legs. All the while her boots continued their soft beat, like a metronome on its lowest volume setting.
Her eyes casually scanned the crowds cramming the port, lingering briefly on reflections of the people behind her. Until she was safe, everyone was suspicious. She did not know who exactly would be looking for her. She only knew how slim her odds of success were.
When the soft sounds of her feet became the gentle clang of boot-on-metal, she began to relax ever so slightly. She checked her boarding pass for her cryo-locker number: Cabin one, locker eleven.
Cabin one was bustling with activity when she entered. People in official-looking uniforms hurried around, checking screens, showing passengers how to get into their cryo lockers, making last-minute preparations. She assumed they were the ship's crew. Quietly, and hopefully inconspicuously, she climbed into the locker indicated by her pass: #11. On her left, an extra-large tube showed signs of recent installment.
It was another hour and a half before they were ready to disembark. She tensed every time someone passed by on their way to another cabin. Any one of them could catch her – could be the one to take her back. In addition to regulating her paranoia, she took meticulous note of the people who were in the lockers around her. A woman in prospector-like clothes was next to her. A man in similar garb was to the woman's right. Beyond that, one locker was empty and all the rest were filled. The large locker to her left was still empty. Across from her on the other side of the cabin, three more lockers were empty, including the one directly across the way.
Finally, the lockers hummed into life. She settled back into the cushioned seat and prepared for sleep. She felt a small pinprick in her forearm as a needle was inserted under her skin. A lukewarm liquid was pumped into her veins. She thought the liquid's temperature was strange – from what she had heard, cryo was supposed to be an icy, mind numbing sleep that froze the body in time. She wondered what was wrong. With a slight, rueful smile, she realized the answer. Of course cryo would not be enough to freeze her. It was barely enough to cool her down.
But even if the cold had no effect on her, the chemicals did their job well. Her mind slipped into a dazed fog. The edges of her vision blurred. She felt ever-so-slightly drowsy. Time began to speed up.
Suddenly, her name flashed in green on the inside of the glass. Her age, weight, height, parents, and homeworld were listed underneath the name. A wave of panic swept over her. How had it know who she was? Who else on the ship would know? Had they alerted anyone? How much time did she have? A plan began to form in her still-groggy mind. Already, she was beginning to raise her body temperature, purging herself of the chemicals of cryo that would slow her. A pair of boots stepped down hard on the metal floor, filling her ears with the resounding ring of vibrating aluminum. Her heart raced, pounding almost audibly against her chest. She reviewed her plan mentally, making slight adjustments where needed. She hadn't expected them to come so fast. Then she remembered that cryo had sped up her perception of time. Panic swept over her again. The footsteps continued, joined by another pair. The clink of steal chains accompanied each thumping step, as did the cold clicking of a firearm. They drew closer to her every moment. At last, they stopped before her locker. Another set of footsteps approached, these lighter, softer, quicker.
"So this is him?" a rough, tense voice accused. She opened her eyes slightly to see what was happening. A man in uniform (she assumed it was the captain) was standing on the other side of two men. He had a graying moustache and bright blue eyes. She could tell he was trying to maintain a calm exterior, but his nervousness was obvious by the way he eyed the other two men.
"Yup. This is him," confirmed the man with the gun. He had reddish-blonde hair. Tall. Lithe. She couldn't see his face, but his accent was very slightly southern and reminded her vaguely of the old western movies she used to watch as a child. He stood slightly behind the third man, holding his gun to the small of his broad back.
She turned her attention to the man in chains. He was very tall – towering over his captor by several inches. His head was shaven bald, but the stubble was beginning to show. He had a bit in his mouth, circling around the back of his head. His broad shoulders were relaxed, but he looked strangely uncomfortable in his restraints. A pair of black goggles covered his eyes, the strap a black band around his skull.
Relief swept over her as she watched. They hadn't come for her after all.
"I shouldn't have ever agreed to this, Mr. Johns. All of my passengers are in danger," the captain complained.
"Riddick's going back to slam, Captain. He won't be bothering you or any of you passengers for a long time," Johns assured him. "Just stick to the plan we agreed to and no one will have to know."
The captain scowled and strode off. "I hope you know what you're doing."
Johns and Riddick turned around. Johns poked the convict in the back with the gun. "Get in."
Riddick growled menacingly, but complied. Johns took a moment to attach his chains to the walls of the locker. After that, she couldn't see much of anything beyond the wall to her left. It wasn't long before she heard the door to Riddick's locker seal shut.
"Sleep well, Riddick," John's mocked, a contempt-filled sneer on his face. He then climbed into his own cryo locker across the cabin.
Her mind raced from one thought to the next, centering on the man in the locker next to her. Taking a deep breath, she let her questions remain dormant. She was safe for the time being. She would worry about the rest when the time came. Slowly, she allowed the fire to recede from her veins and the cryo chemicals once again took over. Her mind drifted aimlessly. In front of her eyes, on the glass, glowing dimly green, was her name. Adara Fairfield.