1 – The Guts

Xen tightened the final bolt on the dripping pipe with a grunt and wiped the sweat from her brow. The work was long, tedious, and foreign. She wasn't used to dealing with the plumbing on any kind of craft let alone a hauler like this one, but for the past few weeks on The Longshot that was all she had been doing. A smear of grease from her hand remained on her forehead but she didn't notice and wouldn't care if she did. Long ago had she abandoned the notion of cleanliness aboard the carrier, two months, in fact. She was counting.

From the moment their skiff's door opened to The Longshot's bay beyond, the nine survivors of the wretched planet M6-117 knew they had not been saved by friends. When they had all been disarmed at gunpoint a trollish thug declared that they were now wards of Sector 48Y. These sectors were neutral territories of space, where no laws were enacted. Scattered throughout the galaxy they were remote, vast, and cold, and made the perfect gathering sites for pirates and others who dealt in dangerous business. Civilian ships and standard carriers skirted around these areas if they ever came close, as they valued both their cargo and lives, but sometimes an unlucky few strayed beyond the borders.

Xen's initial reaction when their ship was invaded was to defend the group. They hadn't escaped the horrors of that place to be ushered instantly into another. Too many had died and she wasn't going to risk more. Common sense intervened though; what good would a fight be when they were obviously outnumbered, outgunned, etc.? Better to go quietly now and think of a decent plan of escape later. A pair of burning silver eyes agreed.

They were to be provided shelter and rations in exchange for work done aboard the vessel. Xen had breathed a huge sigh of relief at this; that was nothing. At the very least she had expected interrogation and then some degree of torture as these areas were not known for their hospitality or friendliness. Stories of Necromongers patrolling these empty zones had particularly chilled her blood.

However, they were in luck. The vessel was leaving this Sector and moving into civilian territory. Word had spread that morning. She had no idea where they were going to end up as they weren't given that information, but it was told that it was going to be a matter of months. For being scooped up by glorified cargo haulers, they hadn't been dealt a bad hand.

The ship's crew called it The Guts. Like the innards of a beast the huge section was fetid and carried a sour stench that clung greedily to hair and clothes. A positive labyrinth, the bowels of The Longshot ran two miles down the length of the enormous cargo hauler and was responsible for pumping thousands of gallons of water throughout the vessel.

The bright white light of her headlamp briefly illuminated the humid corridor she was standing in as she dropped her wrench carelessly into a metal toolbox by her feet. The area was dank and dripping. Rusting pipes flanked each side of a grated ramp that stretched on into the darkness before her. They groaned with churning water, the effect similar to throaty gargling. Steaming vents hissed constantly. It had taken Xen a week to get used to the sound. This corridor was only one of thousands that filled the ship's belly up ten stories. The ramp was part of a scaffold that wound up through the pipes, a terrifying perch for anyone who dared venture to the edge. If she looked over she would see only inky blackness below and more pipes that could barely be seen across a few yards of shadows.

Xen felt as if she were in another world as she worked, in some kind of metal swamp that never saw the light of day. She quickly learned that wearing as little clothing as possible was crucial for surviving here without suffocating, which was fine with her as she worked alone. Suspenders held up a pair of black canvas shorts that were just a little too big for her, revealing shapely legs, and a gray sleeveless shirt hugged her torso tightly from sweat. Auburn hair that usually hung to her chin was plastered to her face and neck from the humidity. Wishing to avoid too many eyes when she reached the civilian levels again, she had a baggy spare cardigan tucked into her toolbox.

Trying to ignore the sheen of sweat on her skin she packed up the rest of her tools and began to make her way to the cage elevator that waited at the other end of the corridor. The confining space pressed in on her like a slowly closing vice, making her nerves itch. She was more or less used to the small spaces she had to work in – weeks of being in this damp dungeon forced her to – but she still eagerly awaited the end of every shift.

Her heavy steel-toed boots made her footfalls clank loudly on the metal grate, becoming distorted as they echoed through the pipes. Each step seemed heavier than the last; this repair shift had been a long one and she was near desperate to get back to her small apartment sixteen levels up and take a remnant of a shower. However even though her work day was over her work tonight was far from done, as the small piece of paper in her pocket reminded her. She needed to speak to Riddick.

The elevator was almost in sight when she heard a sneering voice call through the mist.

"Why, look what we have here, it's the reaper lady herself."

Recognizing the drawling accent, she grimaced and tightened her shoulders but didn't stop moving. She should have known. Her reaper senses were dulled by the dampness and were almost at human levels. To be at full power she needed sunlight, fresh air, and constant sources of energy. None of the above was being readily provided. As she thought this his energy prickled as it drifted over her skin, wild and feral, and her cells sung with hunger.

"I'd better get Wahls," she managed to call back, finally seeing the hazy outline of the elevator and figure within. She kept her voice confident and controlled. "Looks like his dog ran away again."

The man inside chuckled lowly. The sound of metal screeching on metal was heard as he pulled open the cage door. The elevator was also steel grate and small. Not exactly the best place to be face to face with an unpleasant merc.

"Oh, I'm not a biter," he growled, his grin showing through his voice. "And I was sent by the captain to play fetch. It stinks down here so let's make this snappy."

Xen walked up to the elevator and put a hand on her hip. There was a muted blue light inside the cage, shining from the inside and framing the man's figure in a hazy halo. She raised her head and shone her bright headlamp directly into his face, revealing a scruffy beard, brown curly hair, and could-be-handsome features before he cursed and cowered away from the light. He was dressed in a long leather trench coat and steel-toed boots like hers, except her hips weren't slung with a baton and heavy plasma gun. She glanced at them before he straightened, glowering.

"Do that again and I will bite. Get in the fucking elevator."

"Too pushy, Toombs," Xen replied with a shrug, stepping around him into the cage. "You'll never get a girl with that kind of attitude."