CHAPTER THREE:

Breathe

`I'm still alive…..` she sat on the metal floor of the ruined ship, hugging her knees to her chest, breathing, focusing on the simple mechanics of breathing. In…Out…..In…..Out…..In….. Fill the lungs with air, refuel the body, expel carbon dioxide. `I'm still alive….`

She heard others moving around back in the parts of the ship that were still intact; survivors finding other survivors. Searching.

`…..and I'm still insane.`

Well…..if this was a dream (and if it WAS, it was a pretty realistic dream) she might as well just go with the flow. And if it wasn't…..

….if it wasn't.

She shook her head. She'd deal with that later. Carefully, slowly, she managed to get to her feet and started to head towards the voices, picking her way carefully to try to avoid scraps of metal.

Cassie arrived to the others right when young Jack was freed from his/her cryo-tube and shot the masquerading teen a warm smile. `Ah Jack…..one of my favorite characters.`

Shazza who had just finished opening the tube, shot her a look, her long brown hair a mess of curls. "Oh, another survivor. Good to see. I'm Shazza." The Australian voiced woman held out a tanned hand for hers to shake which she took, grasping warmly.

"Cassie."

"So I guess something went wrong?" Young Jack stated from the floor, looking around above her.

Both Shazza and Cassie reached down to take the girls hands and help her up to her feet.

"Yeah, you could say that." Cassie said dryly.

Jack blinked at her, looking her up and down. "Why aren't you wearing shoes?" then she snorted mockingly. "Nice pants."

Cassie reached out and playfully knocked the teen in the back of the head. "Heah, be nice, hon."

Shazza eyed her speculatively. "I don't remember seeing you when we boarded."

Cassie snorted. "Yeah, I was kind of a…last minute addition." `Extremely last minute.`

"Why ARE you dressed like that?" Shazza asked and Cassie fumbled frantically in her mind for an answer.

`Think, Cassie, THINK!`

Then a loud bellow made them all jump.

`…..And saved by the scream.`

"GET IT OUTTA ME!"

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The scream was almost incoherent, desperate, and Cassie felt shivers run down her spine. She didn't want to see. Didn't want to see the man with the pole through his chest. On screen was one thing, then it was an actor dolled up with excellent make-up techniques and fake blood. But this blood, she knew, wouldn't be fake. These screams weren't the result of honed acting skills.

She debated going in the opposite direction. She didn't want to see this, didn't want to deal. But then there was the blonde mercenary fellow, the one pretending to be cop…..the one hooked on drugs…..Hadn't his drugs been hidden inside something like bullet-shells?

Her thoughts were still kind of scattered…..fuzzy…..Would the merc have his 'stash' on him or would it be hidden somewhere? Could she even manage to get the morphine in the hurt captain before he died?

"Okay, towards the screams then." She winced and tried to steel herself for what she was about to witness.

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RIDDICK

Time.

Precious time.

Time he had wasted shielding the girl…..no, the young woman…..keeping her from falling out of the ship to her death. Time he could have spent finding a way to break out of these chains. The bit he was able to remove easily enough; finding a piece of jutting metal and using it as a lever to carefully ease it out of his mouth and down so that it now looked like he was wearing a necklace; the latest in murderer fashion. Now he just had to worry about the chains.

That was when he heard the screams.

"GET IT OUTTA ME!"

The Furyan only glanced down once. Sounded like another survivor had been found, only this one wasn't in very good shape. He ignored the screams in favor of concentrating on the chains, when his sharp ears distinguished another sound…..

Slowly…..carefully…..quietly…and as deadly as the predator he was, Riddick looked down to see the blue-eyed devil himself, come looking for his catch…

Well, his catch was about to catch him.

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JOHNS

Richard B. Riddick was worth a lot of money. Billions if he could get him to the correct slam…..a slam that would actually hold him, that is. Hubble Bay Penal Facility, Ribbald S. Correctional Institution, Tangiers Penal Colony, Butcher Bay, Ursa Luna, among many others, could not hold the infamous Riddick. But Riddicks inability to remain caged is partly what made him worth so much. And Johns needed the money.

That's why he was currently stalking in the ruined ship, gun drawn, all senses alert, looking for his prey…and that's when Riddick suddenly dropped half-way from the ceiling and looped his ankle chains around Johns neck, attempting to strangle him.

Quickly, the fake-cop unfurled his baton and began beating the convict with it, forcing Riddick to fall. It looked like Johns was going to continue hitting him but, instead, he smirked. "Somebody's gonna get hurt one of these days." He muttered. "And it ain't gonna be me."

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CASSIE

She had seen the movie 'Pitch Black' probably hundreds of times, and never had the death of the Captain made her physically ill. Of course, then, it had been a movie. Nothing real, just hit rewind and Captain Owens would be perfectly fit, ready to die again.

Only this time there was no rewind, and even if there was who would even have the remote?

Cassie clapped her hands over her mouth and almost forgot to breath, becoming dizzy, completely unaware of the two pairs of eyes on her; Johns who was trying to figure out whether or not he had seen her board, and Riddick, with the bit back in his mouth and ripped blindfold around his eyes, watching her.

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RIDDICK P.O.V

Well, she's still standing.

The blonde woman yells for morphine for the dying man, but another reports that it's gone. I look over at Johns. Yeah, I just bet it's gone, hidden in the blue-eyed-devils private stock.

My eyes flicker back to the girl who appeared here, her long hair a beginning-to-dry tangle around her shoulders. Why would her hair be wet? But I quickly disregard that observation when I notice something more…..worrying.

…..It doesn't look like the girl's breathing.

`Come on, woman, breathe!` I try to 'think' at her, letting out a low, commanding growl. Johns turns to me and arches an eyebrow at me, smirking.

"Somethin' wrong, boy?"

Oh yeah, Johns, go ahead and treat me like a dog. We'll see who gets the last laugh.

The pressure in my wrists brings my attention to the fact that I've been straining against the chains, unconsciously trying to get free. But now's not the time. Not when everyone's right there.

Something's wrong.

I shouldn't be feeling this way about some strange woman…..about any woman.

`…..pack…..`

Let alone thinking of her as pack.