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"In this world there are only two tragedies. One is not getting what one wants, and the other is getting it." -Oscar Wilde
Chronicle of Darkness
By Lynx Klaw
Chapter 12: Mind the Chimera
Jack sighed as she finished her homework. It was only the seventeenth hour. After haphazardly tossing the com-pad on her nightstand, she laid back on her bed. Idly, she snagged one of the sister blades from under her pillow and began toying with it. There was still almost three hours before dinner... She hadn't really taken the time to think about her situation--her preferred situation. Ever since she was twelve, this what she'd wanted... but now that she was here, she didn't know what to do with herself.
Whenever she got a free moment, her thoughts would turn to Riddick almost compulsively. She couldn't get him out of her head and, worse, she didn't even know where the thoughts were going half the time. Sometimes she was angry she didn't get this chance sooner in life. Other times she was almost to the point of giggling madly over the whole 'I'm with Riddick, now!' situation. But Jacks didn't giggle madly. No, they just lay in bed with confusing cycles of emotions that left them feeling exhausted.
"Fuck, I need a hobby..."
Pondering all things Riddick did not count as a hobby, she thought to herself.
Jack needed something to clear her head, help her drive away the thoughts of Riddick, which usually wound up taking a wrong-turn into the lascivious. Yes, definitely time to clear her head. She meandered the ship, avoiding Riddick as best she could as he puttered about doing whatever it was Riddick did when he wasn't in the cockpit. That seemed to consist of reading a com-pad while wandering the corridors... which might explain why she was having a hard time avoiding him.
She wound up in the workout room. Walking over to the weapons locker, she pulled out a familiar weapon--one she hadn't touched in five years. It was triangular at the handle and guard, tapering into a single, short-barrel assault rifle. There was a hollow shaft right through the middle of it... She reached into the weapons locker again and pulled out a machete, which she slid into the rear of the rifle until the blade protruded almost a foot and a half beyond the muzzle of the rifle. Even this gun seemed linked to him.
Darkness. His voice.
'When we meet again, I'm gonna bury this... in your eye.'
...
The lights go out as the man cuts the cable with his machete. Darkness again. A crack of glass, followed by a sickly squishy sound. A scream.
'Told you that was coming...'
"I'm not going to think about him," she growled to herself, trying to banish the memory.
She reached beside the weapons locker and activated a small, wall-mounted com unit. Projectors fitted on the upper corners of the room hummed to life. She pulled the link-up card from the com and plugged it into the slot in the side of the weapon.
#Welcome to V-Arms Training System, Deluxe Edition. This program brought to you by Company. Please stand by...#
#Checking Clip. Empty.#
#Checking Chamber. Empty.#
#Checking Safety. On.#
#Please select mode:
#1) Stationary
#2) Point-to-Point Mobile
#3) Free-Roaming Mobile#
She chose point-to-point. The projectors made a red circle onto the floor, about two feet in radius. She stepped inside it.
#Please set minimum target distance.#
"Ten meters."
#Please set maximum target distance.#
"Fifty meters."
#Please calibrate firearm.#
A large blue-and-white bull's-eye appeared on the far wall. Jack pointed the weapon at it and a small red dot appeared on the far wall. She pulled the trigger once she was dead center on the bull's-eye. The target moved to the left side of the wall, then right, back to center, up, down, and center again. Nothing seemed to need adjustment.
The gun thumped back, even though the chamber had no bullets--the simulator gave proper feel to firing, though there was no bang accompanying it. Jack set the program to run for half an hour with continuous targets set to increase in difficulty as time progressed.
#Program ready.#
"Begin."
The com pulled up a random street. A couple of hover-cars, four alleys, and a dumpster filled the streets. The buildings had plenty of windows. Good cover, lots of places for targets to appear... The red position spot she stood upon blinked and a tone sounded. Another tone, the light went yellow. A longer, higher pitched tone and the light went green. For a scant few seconds, nothing happened. Then a silhouette of a person moved out from behind the dumpster.
Jack immersed herself in the firing range program. New position dots appeared green on the floor, her current dot turned red. She moved from point to point, the projected image of the street changed perspective as she moved to each spot. Sometimes it placed her under cover and the com used her gun's targeting reticule as viewpoint, enabling her to "look" about the virtual scene and, in the case of cover, lean out.
When the last silhouette fell, a tone sounded followed by the standard, female voice.
#Program complete.#
"Wow."
Jack jumped, spinning with the gun to face the workout room's door. Almost immediately, she aimed it toward the ground.
"Shit! Don't do that!"
"Sorry," Rachel said, moving into the room, "I just didn't know there was something like this on the com. I'll have to look through it more closely sometime. ... Anyway, what are you doing down here at this time? I thought you usually worked out in the morning and after dinner."
"I do, I just... needed to clear my head," Jack said, "Too much thinking, not enough acting, y'know?"
"Mm. All work and no play..."
"Yeah."
"Mind if I try?"
Jack looked at her quizzically. She was sure Rachel had never held a gun, much less fired one. But she figured now was as good a time to learn as any. The street rat just hoped that the recoil didn't knock the short redhead on her back.
Thirty minutes passed.
"Holy shit. ... Ho-ly shit! Where the Hell did you learn to do that?"
Rachel blushed, "I just, um, play a lot of video games... My arm hurts a bit from the recoil, but everything else is pretty much like the FPS games I've played."
Jack continued to stare.
Rachel sat contemplatively at her com after she showed Jack the games and her top-five place in several FPS games. Jack was impressed by her position as the Guild Leader of one of them, called Operation: Overkill, with an impressive score of 133 Consecutive Frags (the current record) in a single Massive Multiplayer Free-for-all instance.
Now, however, something bothered her. It niggled at the back of her skull, as though trying to claw its way to the forefront. Finally, she opened up her report to Sentry and read it, trying to use the information as kindling to the spark of thought. Something about the money was strange to her. She looked back through the imposter's copied com image. Nothing... Nothing... Nothing... Wait a minute!
She accessed the previous files--she knew the blackhats had had stolen UDs from other sites. They even logged it on their com for some reason, likely to keep track of whom they'd hit and when they could hit again. Unfortunately, it also allowed her to track their criminal history backward. It went back several years.
"Several years... Millions of UDs," she whispered to herself.
She opened up the bank record history she had... borrowed... from the ULTrust bank. She glanced through all the deposits... and frowned. There were hundreds of millions of UDs over the years. Deposits and deposits of insane amounts that boggled her mind with all the zeroes. But there hadn't been more than a couple thousand UDs when she first found the account. Rachel checked the withdrawals and confirmed her suspicions. They withdrew the money like clockwork four months after each deposit, every time in a set amount.
"Why?"
The blackhats couldn't possibly have spent it all; they'd be under suspicion in a blink by... well... everyone. So who had the money--did the blackhats have it stashed somewhere?--and what, if anything, was being done with it? Rachel blinked, reflecting on these questions to herself. This was important. Sentry needed to know about this. But she didn't feel like opening this can of worms in front of them...
'Maybe I'll just drop it at their doorstep.'
She navigated the networks to Sentry's location.
'Yeah...'
And with that, she began composing a short, to-the-point message. She slipped under their firewall and pinged their coms. Then she dropped the small, text-packet in one of their incoming channels. Their coms would hold it and notify the users. If they were extremely paranoid, they could open a quarantine area and view it there.
She closed out of her connection and made her way to the galley. She couldn't figure it. It was their problem, now. It was time for dinner.
#We noticed something strange in the information packet we sent you. The account used by the imposters was mostly empty, with only a few thousand UDs in it before the robbery.
#If you will refer to my report and analyze the image of their com, you can see the documentation of other thefts. There were 12 instances of UD transfers to that same account--millions of UDs.
#So where are these UDs? We are going to look at the account's transaction history; we urge you to do the same through your official channels. Maybe you will find something we missed...
-A of C#
"What are you doing in here, Jack?"
She rolled her eyes, "Lajjun taught me how to make a few easy things, Riddick. I'm not going to blow up the ship."
"Last time-"
"Or make a mess."
"...Fine. Just clean up."
"Yes, Sir, Captain Riddick," she said sarcastically with a mock salute.
Riddick paused, staring at her oddly for a moment.
"Captain," the merc called.
Engrossed as he was with planning and integrating the augmentation of the E-TAC soldiers, he didn't hear the man. It was going to be Hell on BGP-4, so they needed to work like a well-oiled machine.
"Captain, the guys wanna know if we're moving out soon."
Riddick looked up from the horizontal com-screen with a layout of the planet's geography, troop placements, troop movements, and suspected terrorist locations and targets.
"Tell 'em to suit up, now. We'll be leaving within the hour."
"Yes, Sir."
As the mercenary moved out, he turned back to the General.
"We need to keep this path clear. My boys will be doing that while the Marines advance along this tunnel. Have the other accesses to that tunnel been blocked up to Way Point 16?"
"Yes, they have."
"Then if you see a single person ahead of you, someone fucked up. Do not move ahead if you encounter anyone. If my boys missed one, they could have missed an entire ambush. Contact us immediately and we'll backtrack to come on the enemy from behind.
"If all goes well, we'll hit Way Point 16 and flank 'em before they realize we're there. We've got the artillery to make the initial strike; all we'll need are your coordinates and theirs."
The General nodded, and then looked up at him, "What the Hell are you doing as a Captain? You could out-maneuver your Colonel... why aren't you leading the E-TAC assist?"
"I'm keeping my head down, Sir," Riddick replied.
"I don't know why, but I'll respect it. You'd better get geared up, Captain, we'll be planet-side in forty."
"Right."
They were heading along the path, undetected and unsuspected. His lieutenants were muttering back and forth. They were going to give away their position before long.
"Hey, you wanna keep us alive by shutting the fuck up?"
"Ain't worried 'bout 'em, Cap. We're safe and sound, and we bag an extra 200K a piece."
Something about the way Lt. Randal that said made the constant wind rolling over the land a little chiller.
Riddick pulled up short, turning around, "The fuck are you talkin' about, Randal?"
"We have an... understanding, them Sons of Freedom an' us."
His brown eyes pierced into the ice-blue eyes and mirthless grin.
"What did you do?" He advanced on Randal, grabbing him by his gear's shoulder straps and hissed, "What the fuck did you do?"
Guns cocked. He looked at his other three Lieutenants, guns trained on him.
"We get the position of the Devil Dogs, forward it to the Sons, and... damn but if I don't get mixed up with all them numbers in coordinates--could get some friendly artillery. Hundred mil--double what we were promised. What'chya say? We walk out of here 200K richer and you just play the good little merc."
"You stupid, little shit! You think they're gonna pay you? The moment you hit, they'll firestorm the entire field!"
Randal sneered, "Who do you think you're talkin' to? I always get my payday--always."
A flare of pain in the back of his skull and Riddick's vision went dark.
When he awoke, he was alone.
'Fuckers!'
He reached for his combat knife and his radio simultaneously.
"This is Captain Richards to Base, Richards to Base," he said frantically, ignoring the drilling going on inside his skull.
"What the fuck's going on, we're pinned under your artillery!"
"Randal's working for the Sons. Left me somewhere halfway to Way Point 16... They're turning the whole plan backward! Head for Way Point 16."
A moment of silence.
"How do we know you're not with them?"
"'cause I'm gonna stop 'em. Semper Fi, General."
"Captain-"
He cut his radio off and ran down the path for Way Point 16.
When Riddick got there, he found the Special Ops platoon of thirty--well, pieces of them--in a crater of artillery. The rest of the General's division was inside the tunnel, probably holed up and ambushed from behind while the artillery barred their way in the front. He was going to rip out Randal's lungs.
The first day, he went about tracking down and sabotaging the mercenary artillery ships. The second day, he set up anti-personnel mines around the perimeter of their camp. The last day he snuck among the campground, searching for Randal. The man was nowhere to be found. Instead, Riddick punctured the power-cells to all but one of the skiffs and painted the temporary barracks in cell-fuel with a makeshift mop.
That night, Riddick took the remaining skiff and threw the throttle to full. The thrusters ignited the cell-fuel and set the barracks on fire. As the men scrambled about in panic, the trails to the other skiffs blazed and, in one bright flare after another, the skiffs' power cells blew. Mercs trying to escape the camp to one of the many tunnels triggered the landmines. Over the course of six hours, Riddick's trap and various fly-by attacks from the skiff's minigun killed four-hundred ninety-eight mercenaries. With his commandeered ship, he managed to make it off planet... The General's division suffered badly, but at least it wasn't a total purge. Shortly afterward, MP Johns was on his tail...
When the silence continued, Jack broke it abruptly, "What?"
"...Nothing," he said, moving out of the galley.
She could hear his steps heading into the lounge. The com didn't turn on. She was silent for a few more minutes, listening. He was just in there, doing nothing...
She shook her head, 'O...kay... what the fuck?'
Riddick sat down in his recliner and stared at nothing. He never found Randal. But he'd looked for him. Whether or not the Sons of Freedom killed him or if he managed to escape the Sons, the Marines, and himself... Riddick still felt cheated. The image of a crater full of the charred bodies of the Spec Ops platoon remained with him.
"Semper Fi..."
Dinner was quiet, each of them immersed in their own thoughts. Jack had managed not to turn the kitchen into a replica of a war zone--and the meal was better than average, too. It was a simple meatloaf, biscuits, and vegetable soup, but it was definitely better than rations--and for Jack, that was a vast improvement. Finally, the silence was undone.
"How long are we space-bound... and where are we heading?" Rachel asked.
"We'll be in jump for about four days. Then it'll take us a few hours to navigate the Nemaeus System. It's a large system with about sixteen planets. Kinda densely packed. We're heading toward the inner planets. There's a station here called Daedalus."
Rachel blinked, 'Daedalus, didn't Jack say that's where she ran away to?'
A quick glance to Jack showed that she was now concentrated on her food, idly pushing it around her place. She was a little too concentrated and was no longer eating.
'And Jack's not happy about it...'
Riddick noticed Jack's sudden disinterest in her food and the conversation, as well, but decided not to comment... yet. He would get the story sometime before they hit the station; he'd make damn sure of that.
"After that, we'll head planet-side after-"
Jack stood up, taking her plate to the galley and clearing it of her half-eaten meal. Afterward, she could be heard walking through the lounge and toward the halls--presumably to her room.
Riddick watched her go, silently cursing Jack's obscurity over her past. Nevertheless, he continued, "...planet-side after that for a few days to restock with some essentials and look for a supplier. We get the goods and pick a trade route from there."
Rachel didn't know what it was about Nemaeus, but it was enough to make Jack lose her appetite. She thought it better not to ask and risk either Riddick or Jack becoming angry with her. Still, she could almost feel the tension in the room like a tangible, fourth presence looming in the ship. With four days to go before Daedalus, she hoped the fragile peace on board the Gift of Nyx could hold.
WEDNESDAY
The door opened, permitting a man in a laboratory coat to enter; his keycard in one hand and morning coffee in the other. He set his coffee on his desk, shrugged off his lab coat, and hung it up. Beneath he wore a fine business suit, a testimony to his position of power and his paycheck. The room, though subterranean, had all the comforts of his office aboveground. The room was a comfortable, cornflower blue with a deeper, royal blue carpet. Various medical book chips rested on shelves, cabinets full of hardcopy files, and his desk had a full com system wired to their databanks and intranet. The desk was easily as wide as he was tall, made of smooth mahogany with the com set to the recessed docking station, the three nineteen-inch monitors and two six-inch side-panel displays allowed him multiple screens for anything he was doing. Their broad arc of information surrounded him. Anything he wanted to know was at his fingertips.
For this session, however, his purpose was much more mundane, though less stressful. It was time to write the weekly report... And his subject had given him much to write and much to think about this week.
Weekly Report
Week 314:
Specimen 74's accelerated growth rate has slowed down to a rate more or less equivalent to that of Homo sapiens. It was hypothesized that this quick maturation period between infant and adolescent stage to be a natural phenomenon of the species. Perhaps a breeding imperative? Current estimation of the subject's physical age in comparison to Homo sapiens is approximately fifteen years. Real time age is six years and fourteen days.
Of note is the lack of menstruation thus far. As the subject has just exited its accelerated growth, observation for any signals of a menstrual period will be put into effect. Hypothesis: perhaps specimen may enter periods of yearly heat, or even require certain stimuli to become a viable breeding specimen. Breeding program has not yet resumed, pending this specimen's evaluation as success or failure.
Still no signs of activity involving extra cartilaginous growth on forearms. Judging from the accidents from careless guards who feed the male used as Specimen 74's DNA donor, it is possibly a weapon. I have informed everyone that has any physical contact with Specimen 74 to take all precautions in the event that the specimen learns how to trigger the extra muscles present at the sides of the far distal portion of the radius and ulna of each arm.
Lingual lessons are continuing smoothly. The specimen shows extreme adeptness at picking up audible and visual cues. Specimen 74 continues to display some habits particular to its DNA donor; so far, we have been moderately successful understanding its moods and interpreting the threat of volatile outbursts before they occur. Subject continues to show hostility at physical contact, but is often dissuaded from violence in all but the moderate to most invasive physical interactions when given some reading material. Suggest a small com unit with limited data that may be appealing to the subject be placed in subject's room to measure self-motivation, curiosity, and cognitive skills. Reading level is currently equivalent to most junior high school educational standards and the specimen's memory appears to be eidetic. Specimen 74 has repeatedly picked up language patterns used by the other doctors and the guards, causing an almost vexing pattern of scientific terminology and slang to develop in its vocabulary.
Specimen 74 lacks focus when not given something particular to fixate its attention. Small noises or motions easily attract its attention during such periods, gaining almost complete focus akin to that of tunnel vision. Signs of mild to moderate sedatephobia are present during partial sense-isolation studies.
Thankfully, the specimen still shows no aversion or harm from light. However, the subject continues to thrive superbly in the absence of light. Sight Deprivation study showed no ill effects, if any effect at all, on Specimen 74. Based on the various noises it makes almost constantly and the marked increase of these sounds during the study, the general hypothesis is that the specimen relies on its innate echolocation ability as much as, if not more than, its sense of sight. I curtailed the Hearing Deprivation Study when the subject began striking its deprivation helmet against any available hard surface. Sight and Hearing Deprivation Study has been cancelled.
Specimen 74's appetite almost rivals its DNA donor. Its last meal included a pound of roasted ham, two sixteen ounce steaks--cooked medium-well and medium-rare respectively, a cantaloupe, a slice of watermelon, and a small assortment of vegetables. The subject ate medium-rare steak and ignored the medium-well-cooked steak. It took a sizeable bite from the ham (approximately half of the ham). Of the cantaloupe and watermelon, it devoured both in their entirety, as it did with the carrots and tomatoes. It did not touch the potato. A willingness to eat fruits and vegetables suggest that Specimen 74 is not only capable but also keen to eat outside its DNA donor's strict meat diet.
Subject will sleep as much as ten to fourteen hours or as little as four hours of a standard thirty-hour day. The specimen shows signs of dreaming during REM. No sleep disorders are apparent.
Blood test, urinalysis, and somatography show no abnormalities in physiology. Subject seems to be stable. Monthly tests will continue as scheduled.
-Doctor Sorin cel Rau, Director of Research
Alexis hadn't any luck finding the mercs yesterday... but she had some contacts she could tap for information. Just... not in front of Cassandra. After a few hours, she'd sent Cassandra on her way and gone home to contact her resources. Within an hour, she'd found the hospital and room number. Today... she was going to see those bastards.
She got there around the sixteenth hour. Only one of them was conscious. A woman named Eve Logan. Both of her legs were broken--almost crushed. They had set her legs and put her into a Nano-Med station. While the nanites worked their magic, they patched up the minor scrapes and bruises. She should be out of bed and walking in three or four weeks, with luck.
When Alexis came in, the woman still looked like a wreck, in spite of the hospital's obvious care and treatment. Wan and wiped, Eve looked up. Marks of stress and exhaustion underlined her eyes, as if she hadn't slept in days. Her mood reflected her image.
"Who're you?"
It was more of a 'go away' than a question of identity.
"Lieutenant General Zimmerman," she said authoritatively.
She didn't mention that she was currently teaching high school girls' gym class. Even if it were true, it wasn't as though she was retired from the service... One in her position didn't retire. It was a lifetime commitment. Any day now, she could be recalled and her peaceful life she'd built here would be nothing more than a dream she'd have to wake up from.
"And?"
"About your latest attempt to apprehend Richard B. Riddick-"
Eve huffed, "That... was a Grade-A clusterfuck. Shoulda never signed on for it. Assholes had their eyes so full of UDs they couldn't see it."
"Couldn't see what?"
"It was a school--middle of the day, even. All those kids... shit, I've never heard such a reckless plan. And that-" she winced as she inclined the back of the bed, hissing lightly as she had to resituate her legs, "-that fucker, Dahlven..."
'Ah yes,' Zimmy remembered, 'the one that held my girls hostage...'
"I told Toombs... I told him Dahlven was a misogynist. And he still sent him to get the girl."
"We didn't find any Toombs at the scene," Alexis said, mentally cursing, 'There was another one?'
"Not surprised, that bastard has more lives than a cat... And Chen, here. He's so caught up in the moment he uses a grenade launcher inside the building! Jesus Christ, I've never seen the likes of it. Not even a million UDs is worth this. So Toombs high-tailed it, huh?"
"It certainly appears that way."
"Yeah, well, good riddance to 'im. Need a change of pace, anyhow."
'Well, isn't this a surprise. A merc with a conscience,' Zimmy thought.
"So... what happens, now?"
"We have a situation. And I might just be able to keep you out of slam if you cooperate."
Logan looked to contemplate it, but not for long.
"... I'm listening."
"After Riddick left, we found information suggesting that two girls left with him."
"Two?"
"One girl, Audrey Knight, is working with Riddick, it seems. The other, Rachel Rileigh, is an unknown--just a student, a friend of Audrey. She doesn't seem to have any connections to Riddick. But as I said, evidence suggests that she left with him. If you could-"
Eve shook her head, "I am not hunting kids. Going after Riddick was a fuck-up, but that's out of the question. I'm not that kind of merc."
"I'm not asking you to hunt anyone, Ms. Logan."
The merc frowned and regarded the Lieutenant General quietly.
"What I want is for you to track Riddick--which will likely lead us to Rachel. If you can do this, I want you to get a message to Rachel. Our goal is to return Rachel to her mother, first and foremost. I need you to verify that she's alive and well... Maybe even give the girl a lift back to Helion. Call it tying up loose ends."
"Yeah... Yeah, that sounds a lot better than I suspected. One problem, though. Riddick's notorious for hating mercs. He's likely to kill me before I get a chance to open any line of communication. How do you propose I go about it without turning this into a suicide mission?"
Alexis shook her head, "We'll work on the particulars once you're recovered. Do we have a deal?"
"...Yeah. Yeah, we do."
When the Lieutenant General left, the merc sagged back into the soft bed. For the first time since the botched mission, she felt relaxed enough to sleep. Eve could still set things right and reconcile this whole ordeal with herself.
THURSDAY
Jack had been moody all day yesterday and hadn't spoken a word to anyone today. Instead, she sat in her room and worked on her homework. She only emerged for meals and training So far, Riddick discovered training meant 'I'm pissed; let's see if I can pummel Big Evil.' He was still holding back, but not by a large degree. She was certainly giving it her all, she pulled out all the stops and was creating combinations and improvising maneuvers and attacks that he never considered. Hell, he even took a few notes from their latest spar.
She stepped outside his straight right, grabbed his forearm, and heaved backward. Riddick found himself off balance and stumbling forward. She spun as he passed, putting and elbow into his right kidney as he went by. She followed this with a kick to a knee, then a blow (thankfully pulled) to the side of his neck.
"Shit, Jack," he muttered, as he got up, "Where do you come up with this stuff?"
"Well, it was a bit harder 'cause I'd planned to have a shiv in my hand when I used something like that."
"How's that?" he asked; honestly intrigued.
One of the few times she would speak to him was during spars. The one time she actually acted like Jack, not some phantom ghosting through the halls.
"Well, if I had a shiv, then instead of an elbow, I would have done a backward stab at the abdominal aorta, then kicked your support leg, and finished by jabbing at the carotid sinus and vagus nerves."
He just stared at her for a second. That was one Hell of a kill...
"Well, seems like a game of Who's the Better Killer, to me."
A small grin--the first positive sign he'd seen in a day and a half--lit her face.
"What'd you have in mind?"
He lunged.
Jack stood in the shower, letting the warm water flow over her. The water was almost scalding--just shy of being uncomfortable. They were more or less halfway to Daedalus. With every passing hour and every petameter closer to the Station, she could sense an indescribable yet overwhelming feeling of foreboding. She had escaped that damned place once... But this time, she might not be so lucky. Daedalus, which had managed to swallow so many people, would consume her--she could almost see it happening.
From what she remembered, it was bad... but it wasn't a death sentence--not always, at least. She had survived... and made it out, even. And this time, they had UDs. They could escape again no problem. So why was she freaking out so much? What happened on that God-forsaken station that gave her this impression?
When she began combing over the events, she got a headache. A scary headache. Not that it made sense that a headache should frighten her... But she quickly stopped scrutinizing the events, nevertheless.
As she got out of the shower, she threw on a nightshirt and went to bed. Normally, she slept in something that she could get up and run--or fight--at a moment's notice. But she was on a ship and there was no fear of someone slipping into her room in deep space. As she slipped under her royal blue comforter, she slid her hand under her soft pillow. She smiled a bit, feeling the handle of one of her sister blades. As her fingers curled around it, she relaxed fully.
Sure, there wasn't anyone to fear in deep space, but it didn't feel right unless she could feel a shiv under her pillow. Once, back on Chillingsworth's jumper, Imam had asked her to stop sleeping while holding Junner Front's assault rifle, she refused. Imam didn't push it, but didn't approve. That evening, Riddick taught her to make a shiv. That night, she left the rifle in the small lounge. Imam was pleased. When Riddick walked by and saw her slip her shiv under her pillow, he smirked and called it her security blanket. Jack didn't understand. What security did a blanket offer? Whatever it meant, she didn't bother asking.
She still didn't exactly get it, but it didn't matter. It made her feel safer having something to defend herself with at the ready.
FRIDAY
The ship lurched suddenly. Rachel braced herself with the com console in front of her chair. Jack pitched forward and caught herself on a wall in the hallway. After she had her feet under her, she moved into the lounge, where Rachel was already standing--they both headed toward the cockpit.
When they got there, they discovered Riddick in the pilot's seat, the ship's thruster down totally. They were out of ion drive, basically coasting through frictionless space. He didn't turn around, just stared out at the blackness around them--between systems, it was a very dark place. It was the only darkness his eyes couldn't penetrate.
"What's up? Why are we sitting around in dead space?"
"Couple things I need to know, Jack... before we move on."
"Okay?" Jack said; her suspicious side was making her insides shift a bit in discomfort.
"What kind of trouble am I heading for on Daedalus? You've been tight-lipped 'bout it the whole time and most days I respect your privacy... But I'm not jumping into any pit of snakes."
Even as Riddick asked the question, Rachel could see the tension rising in Jack's neck, shoulders, and back. There was something there, hidden in Jack's past. She knew whatever she had been told about Daedalus Station had been edited to a minimum. So what was so bad that she couldn't even tell Riddick--who, if memory served her correctly, 'survived a rather long night' full of monsters and saved Jack's life? Rachel looked back to Riddick, whose expression was stony.
The brunette's response was flat, almost warning, "Nothing happened."
"I can sit here all night, Jack, but we're not going anywhere 'til I find out what happened in Nemaeus."
He was trying to pull it out. Make it real. She couldn't let that happen--she'd made it go away. Who knew what would happen if it came back? No. She wasn't going to remember it! She wasn't, she wasn't, she wasn't! It was harder, this time, to make the phantom images shifting around in her brain disappear--more than discomfort; it was actually painful, this time. Jack succeeded, however, and it went away--gone.
She reached up to her head and rubbed her forehead. Riddick was giving her a headache with all these stupid questions.
"It didn't happen. Nothing happened."
Rachel's eyes slammed back to Jack, eyebrows rising. Riddick's brows knit into a deep frown.
"What... didn't happen," he demanded more than asked.
Jack winced, both hands going to massage her temples. Fucking headache was killing her. She leaned back against the wall, feeling disoriented.
"I don't know what you're talking about. Nothing happened, Riddick."
Why was he going on about it? He was the one that chose their destination. Now he doesn't want to go? She wished Riddick would make up his mind. She didn't even want to go to Daedalus in the first place, because... because...
Even a half-formed question of 'why' in her head filled her with a nameless fear, so she quickly dropped it. She didn't even want to go to Daedalus in the first place. Why couldn't he just drop the subject?
"You're blocking, Jack."
"What do you mean?"
Riddick leaned forward, "You're ignoring what happened on Daedalus Station."
Jack shook her head, "No."
"Jack... Tell me what happened."
Rachel watched Jack's inner turmoil play out on her face, the other girl gritting her teeth and squeezing her eyes shut. She wasn't sure what to do--didn't know all the particulars about Jack to understand what was happening. What did Riddick mean by 'blocking?'
"No. I won't let you do it. I can't..."
She trailed off. Speaking took too much concentration away. It was like trying to hold back a flood. She couldn't stop it--Riddick kept pulling and it took too much to stuff it away repeatedly. She felt a sudden sharp pain in her head, like a thread snapping, and the pounding in her head slowly receded. Then the event was coming back. It was frightening. It was real. The images in her head grew larger until they encompassed her; until they were no longer inside her, but she was inside them.
She pressed her back against the cool metal of The Gift of Nyx, trying to let it cool her down and calm her thoughts. Reality and memory blended.
Backed up against a wall. He stood there, staring at her with a leer that filled her with trepidation. She shuddered as his hands landed on her shoulders. He wanted to-
"Oh, God..."
"I knew it. Thought I couldn't see it just 'cause ya cut yer hair 'n' wear them baggy clothes..."
He grabbed her arm and yanked her down the alley--in the opposite direction she'd entered. Farther from safety.
'Ohgodohgodohgod... someone help me please!' she screamed inside her head, but the words caught in her throat.
As the girl slid down the wall into a fetal position, Rachel took a step forward, "Jack...?"
"Stop it," Jack said, trying to scuttle backward, but unable to go farther against the wall.
Riddick grabbed Rachel's arm and pulled her back.
"Stay back. She could be dangerous, right now."
Rachel was torn, but didn't move back toward Jack, "What's wrong?"
She shouted, "Let me go!"
She yanked back against the large hand holding her. When he turned around to smack her silent, she kicked him in the groin. He fell with a strangled curse and she turned toward the mouth of the alley. Before she could bolt for it, his hand snagged her ankle, pulling her balance off and sending her face-first into the ground. She could taste blood.
He dragged her on her stomach back into the alley. His limp made for slower progress, but the journey's conclusion was inevitable. She curled her fingers, trying to dig them into the grimy metal floors. Daedalus was going to swallow her...
She let out a wordless cry.
'Why isn't anyone helping? Where's God when I need 'im?'
She was inexorably pulled away from the mouth, is dimly lit light slowly becoming smaller. Her hands encountered something not smooth--something not the ground... she snagged it in a death grip, hoping against hope that it attached to something that could anchor her. It wasn't. She looked in her hands.
A screwdriver.
She cried as she clawed with her other hand, still trying to find purchase. The other vainly clutched at the screwdriver.
'What the fuck are you doing?' the small voice of reason demanded. 'God ain't gonna save you. You gotta save yourself.'
"How?" Jack asked, quivering in her curled position.
"What?" Rachel asked to the odd question.
Jack didn't hear her.
'The screwdriver! Use the screwdriver!'
Panicked as she was, she took the time to look at her hand, where the screwdriver remained in her clutch.
"The screwdriver?"
Riddick already didn't like the conclusion he was coming to, but he couldn't do anything about it. As much as he hated it, he had to let this run its course through Jack. And, if she came out of it as sane as she did when he met her, maybe they could work this out... somehow.
'Yes, you idiot. Stab him!'
The screwdriver was a rusted flathead, the edges dulled from years of use, but still capable of puncturing flesh.
'It's him or you! Kill or be killed!'
She gripped the tool's handle tighter in her small hand.
"Him or me..."
'I choose... kill!'
She curled up and jammed the rusty screwdriver into his thigh, then yanked it out even as he bellowed his pain. Gathering herself, she lunged at him, driving her weapon of salvation into his gut. They fell to the ground together, her body atop his. She pulled it out again, tearing the fabric of his shirt and the skin of his stomach alike. She straddled his stomach. Holding the bloody makeshift shiv overhead in both hands, she plunged it into his chest. Pulled it out. Down again. Again.
She was in the pilot's chair, straddling Riddick. Her hands fisted and brought down repeatedly at his chest. Surprised as he was, he had caught her in mid-air fast enough to avoid a painful collision. When she straddled him and began slamming her fists at him, he blocked the repeated blows on his forearms.
The pounding stopped, Jack sat panting above him, eyes wide and unseeing. She looked down at herself, grimacing as she pulled at her shirt. One moment it was her typical shirt she wore over her tank top. In the next, it was a tattered, dingy-brown shirt covered in grime and blood from the man in the alley. Jack, well into hyperventilation, slid off and away from Riddick. Her watery, verdant eyes stared down at her hands and found them painted red. She made a distressed noise and stumbled away, down the hall to somewhere. Anywhere but where she was.
Rachel had backed herself against the opposite wall when Jack had sprung. She watched as she attacked Riddick and the resulting panic. Her eyes didn't leave the other girl until she'd passed out of sight.
Riddick sat up--Jack's pounce had reclined the pilot's chair--and slowly stood. His eyes were on the hallway, but Jack didn't return. He could focus on what he'd learned later; right now, he needed to make sure Jack was okay. His first guess took him to Jack's room. There, he found her clothes strewn about--as though she'd more or less tossed off her clothes.
The shower was running; the door to the bathroom cracked a few inches. Steam rolled out from it. He glanced inside, but no one was visible. Cautiously, he pushed the door open. Inside, he found Jack curled up once more, this time in the shower with the water streaming down her. In spite of the warmth he could feel rolling from the shower stall, she sat shivering.
'She's in shock,' he realized.
He turned away and saw Rachel standing in the doorway.
"Go get some hot tea and bring it here," he ordered her.
Rachel, in no mind to say no Riddick at this very moment, went to do as he 'asked.' Riddick moved to Jack's bed and pulled the comforter off it. Dragging it into the bathroom, he reached into the shower stall for Jack. He jerked his hand out at the temperature of the water, which felt like it was almost scalding. Jack's skin was turning rosy and, left much longer, she might burn herself. Quickly reaching in to cut off the water, he stepped into the stall and put the thick, warm material over her. Since she was in a corner, it was hard for him to pick her up, but he managed and bundled her into the comforter. He'd just gotten to her bed when Rachel entered the room with the tea.
He silently motioned for her to come in and put it down on the nightstand. It was so quiet in the room that when Jack began speaking, it startled Rachel into almost dropping the tea. She recovered and sat the cup on the nightstand, then turned to listen to the girl.
"I had to do it... He was going to hurt her and I stopped him. I'm glad I did it. But if I stay here, she'll get hurt. They'll all get hurt. They'll hunt us down like fucking dogs and it'll be my fault. ... I can leave. They don't even have to know. I can pick up my pack tonight and be gone before they realize I'm not coming back."
Riddick frowned, realizing she hadn't quite caught up with events. Nevertheless, he played along, "So where'll you go?"
"I dunno," she said, and was quiet for a minute, "I might have enough UDs stashed for a cheap flight. ... Flight listing says the cheapest one's... uh... Hunter-Gratzner. It even has cryo. The HG's headed for New Mecca for two-hundred UDs. I only have a hundred 'n' seventy-five. But... I can probably cut a quarter off the price if I get off at the pit stop at Taurus 3. Even pick up a meal with the twenty-five I'll have left."
"Fucking Hell, Jack..." Riddick muttered.
Talk about out of the frying pan and into the fire...
Jack yawned, "I'll get up in a couple hours... slip out when everyone's sleeping."
"Sounds good, Jack. Rest up."
Jack passed out in his arms. After depositing her onto the bed, Riddick looked to the tea and frowned. So much for that. Still, it'd be a waste... He grabbed for it and took a sip. ... It was slightly bitter. That chamomile stuff Jack likes. It wasn't horrible, so he took another sip...
"Could be a while before she wakes up."
"...Okay. You'll let me know when she wakes up?" Rachel said, deciding it was best to let Jack get some rest. She didn't know exactly what just happened, but she'd get answers eventually.
"Yeah..."
Consciousness returned slowly and with a lancing pain that started in her temples and graduated to the base of her skull. Her eyes squeezed shut and she sat there, silently enduring the pain. Finally, she cracked her eyes. Darkness. A small, dim rectangle of light shone across the way, hitting her eyes painfully. Her body seized itself, holding tight in sudden fear.
'The alley...'
She hadn't escaped! They had her! She started, not quite managing to sit up fully. She gasped for breath, suddenly hyperventilating.
"Jack..."
The quiet, but deep tone gave her pause. She knew the voice. It was salvation. Jack slowly refocused. That wasn't the mouth of the alley; it was the door to her room. She was on The Gift of Nyx. That's right, she was safe; she'd made it. She escaped Daedalus... but she was going back.
She leaned back, relaxing a bit. Turning her head to the side, she saw two, tiny moons beaming at her.
"Riddick... My head hurts."
He wasn't surprised. She just ripped out a piece of memory she'd tucked away. Fucking repressed memories... this was going to be problematic. Riddick knew she needed help to work through all this--but it wasn't as if they could just check her into some shrink... criminal records and all that.
"Just lay there for a bit. I'll be back."
"Hn," she noised, not inclined to disagree.
Riddick moved into the lounge, heading for the medical bay. He saw Rachel sitting at the com, silently engrossed in whatever she was using to pass the time. She was still as a statue. He was halfway to the door when she half-startled him by speaking.
"She's awake?"
He looked over his shoulder and nodded once before continuing into the medical bay.
Rachel stared at the com-pad for a few more moments. She glanced at the heading of the out-dated article she was reading, and then shook her head.
RICHARD B. RIDDICK ON THE LOOSE
Survived Crash of Hunter-Gratzner
Forensics done by the Newtonian Institute on planet M-344/G, 2 indicate that the serial killer, Richard B. Riddick, survived the crash of the Hunter-Gratzner. The details of the events on the planet are unknown, but authorities are not discarding the theory that Riddick may have slaughtered the remaining survivors.
Bounty William J. Johns was transporting Riddick to a triple-maximum security prison when...
Never could trust the media. She just couldn't see Riddick killing off all the other survivors. Jack and Mr. Al-Walid were proof against that. How much of this was pure sensationalized bullshit? Rachel could get the story from the source--there was no need to bother with this. Flicking off the com, she went to get more chamomile for Jack. It'd probably help soothe the frayed nerves. Maybe she could get some answers about the events of Daedalus as well as this M-344/G system debacle if she stuck around afterward...
"Yeah, just a bit... disoriented. It feels weird to have it go the other way."
A moment of silence. Rachel figured it was a non-verbal cue, but Jack had begun speaking when she came in with the cup of tea. This was the third one... at this rate, they'd have to restock when they hit Daedalus.
"I remember stuffing it back; it wasn't hard. Kinda like swallowing a drink. But remembering it feels like it's going the wrong way... I guess sorta like throwing up. Thinking about it feels weird... still makes me dizzy. It's also kinda strange to have something else there that I know happened... when it didn't exist before. Kinda surreal..."
Jack was grateful for the tea and took the two small, red pills laying on the nightstand. She had her pillows stacked behind her, so she was inclined just enough to take the painkillers.
"You feel up to telling me what happened?"
Her hands fisted in the comforter. She took a breath and began talking.
"I got back late from my pulls. It was a slow day and I usually brought a two-hundred UD quota to the gang. An' Jessie and Mike would cover us with an extra four hundred--they covered our living expenses. I pretty much stole so we could eat. Sebastian and Micah were our security. Kiara kinda became everyone's Mom--and everyone looked out for Panny, since she was only five. ... Shit, she's probably eleven, now... same age I was...
"Anyway, I dropped off my stash, took my twenty and went to the vendors on Deck 4. Kiara wanted to share with me--didn't want me to go out again," she said, eyes becoming distant with the memory, "but we both needed a full meal. My stomach'd been aching for a day and a half when I came up short last week. Had to stretch things and the day before, I only took half a meal. Another lights by the vendors had gone out. Or maybe someone broke it. Wouldn't be surprised... shit happens like that all the time. Someday, I bet the whole Station'll be plunged into darkness.
"Got myself some soup... Ate it right there, since I was feelin' kinda weak. Glanced at the clock set above the vendor and realized how late it was--almost twenty-third hour. So I started back, lookin' for the best route. Can't start a routine or someone'll notice. So I had five ways back to the alley an' took a different one every day. Chose the shortest path. I was tired and needed my cot as soon as possible.
"There were four blocks of darkness--newly broken light included. I figured I could manage it; even use the dark to stay hidden. But someone already had that idea. Must've been watchin' for me the second I started headin' that way. The second I crossed that alley, I was being hauled in. Fuck, it felt like I was flyin' 'til I hit the wall of the alley.
"I could hear my heart poundin' in my chest. Was scared shitless. I didn't think it could get worse, but then I saw the tattoo on the side of his neck. He was one of the local gang... they were the big name in drug running, slaving, and murder on Daedalus. I was likely gonna be one of their... exotic pets... I had to get out of there. But he was too big and too strong; just started pulling me away farther into the alley.
"I managed to knee his jewels, but that just pissed him off. Then he started draggin' me by the ankle. I couldn't stop him and there was nothin' to grab onto. But I snagged a screwdriver on the ground and... and I... stabbed him.
"Once I started, I just couldn't stop. I kept hitting him with it." She pulled the at the comforter in distress, "I was covered in his blood. It was hitting the walls of the alley, too. He was just... lyin' in this red puddle... and I remember panicking. I dunno what I did after that. I just went on autopilot. When I came to, I was in the shower--fuck if I know how I got past Sebastian. It was his watch and he's always payin' attention..."
"After that, I decided I needed to leave. The gang would eventually find the body and hunt me down. They got everything the guards got through their ties--DNA scanners, they can hack databases... everything. I couldn't stay or the whole crew woulda suffered. Prolly woulda been killed 'cause they knew me. So... so, I grabbed my stuff and ran. Checked the flights and used my stash to nab the cheapest flight.
"...You know how the rest went after that..."
Riddick nodded. Thinking over what she'd told him.
"You're thinkin' the gang'll still be looking for you."
Her turn to nod.
"It's been five years, Jack. Even if they had your DNA, they gotta figure you're long gone. And you don't look anything like you did back then."
"Yeah, but..."
"We'll be fine. We won't even be a week, so we don't even have to see much of Daedalus. It's natural for you to feel nervous, but if we're careful, it'll be in-and-out."
"...Okay."
Her headache was almost gone, now. Save for feeling a little lethargic, everything was fine. Jack sat up, the comforter falling to her waist. The material felt smooth against... her skin. She glanced down, then quickly back up. Riddick's reflective, silver eyes had cut to the side, staring most intently at her closet. Yanking the comforter back up, she looked toward the door, where Rachel had lingered. The redhead's eyes were wide and her mouth was open.
"Get out!" she yelled at them, mortified.
Riddick simply rose to his feet and strolled out of the room. He paused just outside and cleared his throat. Rachel started slightly and blushed, then turned for the door and practically fled.
--END CHAPTER--
I actually worked through Chapters 12 and 13 as a single chapter. By the time I realized I was over 20 pages, however, I was in full-throttle writing mode. I decided to break it up, even though it's more or less a consecutive series of events... There's plenty more to what happens at this point in time, but you're getting about 18 pages of the initial idea. So it's not all bad.
Now that I think about it, this is probably the best place to leave off, as the next scene is a nice kick-off for the next arc of the story. Combined with what happens here in 12, chapter 13 will lay down the plot for the next ... I don't know, could be eight to ten chapters.
Also, I've managed to get to a major point in the story... an introduction of sorts. It might be blatantly obvious, or it might be too vague--I can't tell 'cause I know the story already. I love where this will take me and I can't wait to reach that plot point. I can say that this plot point is after Daedalus, but I don't want to spoil anything, so that's all I'll say about it.
If you were wondering what petameter is, it's 1,000,000,000,000,000 meters. I did some math... it's the best figure I could come up with. If you see "petas" being mentioned, it's referencing a petameter measurement. The standard hyperdrive works at 6 petamaters per day or "6Pm/D."
Reviews and constructive criticism are always welcome. The cat will use flames to keep itself warm... or the K-monster, my editor, will use them to toast marshmallows, who knows?
-Lynx Klaw
