21
"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 21: Feeling Emotive
MONDAY
Lynne was working studiously at her Advanced Com Technologies homework when she heard the front door open around fourteenth hour. Nobody was supposed to be here until seventeenth hour. School had been a half day because of a meeting between the Helion Guard and the faculty. Zimmy wasn't pleased that her class time was being gouged, which she had been heard grumbling about from time to time every time the Helion Guard was known to be dropping by. That meant that she had time to go home, get her homework done, and possibly start dinner.
"Lynne, we're home," her mother, Adela, called into the house.
Adela was a tall woman with long, black hair and blue eyes. She moved into the house gracefully, though she looked a little tired. As the woman carried in a case from the hover-car it was clear that Adela was quite grateful just to be home and able to relax.
Lynne came down the steps with a bit of haste, a look of slight surprise on her face.
"Hey--I thought you weren't coming back for another three hours? I was going to have dinner ready... I haven't even started."
"No need to worry about that," Aodh, her father, responded lightly with a wave of his free hand, "We'll go out for a nice dinner. When we stopped by the Council, they gave us the day to rest since the work-day was almost over. We'll have to go see them in the morning. I'm sure there was time to give it today, but they declined. I got the feeling they were busy with other matters."
Aodh Fortuna was shorter than Adela by a few inches and had a head of bright orange hair. It curled about in a thick mass. The man's eyes were a stormy grey, but held a playful glint to them. Lynne's dark red hair was straighter than her father's, for which she was grateful; it made styling it easy.
Both Aodh and Adela were dressed lightly; it was best for the heat of Helion. Lynne's mother wore a thin, mesh, aqua shawl with chrysocolla beads over a navy blue summer dress. She wore sandals with a slight heel to them. Lynne's father wore a white, short-sleeved shirt and khaki shorts. His shoes were white loafers that breathed well. Honestly, it looked like they'd come back from vacation rather than an ecological survey.
"They probably are," Lynne admitted, "There is a lot going on. Remember when I told you about the dance, when Audrey attended?"
"Yes?" her mother asked, interested in what that had to do with the Council.
"The Monday after prom, mercenaries came into the school and started a shoot-out-"
Adela, her eyes wide, interrupted Lynne, "They what?"
"Yes... some mercenaries-"
"Are you alright?" Aodh broke in this time.
Slightly perturbed, Lynne nodded, "I'm fine, but-"
"You're sure?" he asked, wanting to make sure his daughter was okay and not humoring him, "Was anyone else hurt? Why would mercenaries start a fire-fight at your school?"
"..."
Lynne crossed her arms and stared at her parents while she waited for them to realize she was trying to tell them what happened, but couldn't so long as they continued to interrupt her. When they finally realized she wouldn't continue until she was allowed to start a sentence and finish it, they calmed themselves. It did no good to let their worry overrun their logic. Obviously, Lynne was standing right in front of them--wasn't dead or hospitalized.
"Mercenaries came to the school because it turns out that Mr. Phoebus, the man teaching Audrey self-defense, was actually Richard B. Riddick."
Adela looked aghast, "The serial killer?"
"I doubt he's actually a serial killer..."
In response to her mutter, her father returned with a gentle admonishing, "Some criminals are very good at masking their true natures, Lynne."
"But he wasn't really... hiding. He did lie about his name; with the way he acted, though, I don't think he's likely to start a body count for no reason," she reasoned, then explained, "He treated Audrey well during gym class, even though her training was very intense. Riddick talked to Zimmy often, too. He didn't say much at the dance, but he wasn't raging about. From what some people said about him, you would almost expect him to be tearing people limb from limb and gnawing on their bodies like some deranged cannibal."
Lynne snorted, "I'm sure he's killed some people--probably a lot of mercenaries. I don't know enough about his victims to say he's really just some psycho-killer."
Her parents looked to be considering that notion. Her mother was the first to accept the validity of her idea, "I see... so the mercenaries came after him while he was at the school."
The redhead nodded.
The dark-haired woman gained a contemplative look, "What about Audrey? You said she was rather--close with him."
"Uhm," Lynne noised, thinking hard about it, "Everyone thought they were an item--or wanted to be. I don't think there was anything going on, personally... but Audrey was very protective of him. She left with him--and Rachel went with them, I believe."
Her father shifted uncomfortably at that news and pushed some orange curls out of his vision. They fell back soon enough, but he paid them no mind. His wife was the first to comment on their mutual feelings about the matter.
"That might not be good."
Lynne acquiesced, "Perhaps not. I get the feeling he's treating them well, but that doesn't change the fact that they're going to be actively hunted by more mercenaries. I hope that they can stay safe."
Aodh grunted slightly, "For all their sakes, it would be best if they stayed low for the time being. If he's intelligent, he's hiding."
"Oh, he's very intelligent," his daughter said dryly, "I understood that much almost immediately."
Her father nodded approvingly.
"Classes recently resumed, but there's always someone from the Helion Guard buzzing about. Two detectives have been talking with Mrs. Zimmerman a lot," Lynne recounted, "I think the interruptions during class are starting to annoy her."
"So everyone else is alright?" Aodh inquired.
"Mhm. One of the mercenaries grabbed Audrey by the hair and was threatening her... and she almost killed him, but Riddick stopped her; he killed the man himself. There's this really faint bloodstain on the ground outside the gym..."
The girl paused to reflect on this, but quickly came to the conclusion that if Riddick hadn't killed the man, someone--probably Zimmy--might have for threatening her students. Then again, Mrs. Zimmerman might have just restrained the man until the Helion Guard showed up. Then it would have gone to court. She understood that there was no way to justify what the mercenary had done in the gym. If the man hadn't been killed there, he would probably have been sent to a prison. A merc wouldn't last a week surrounded by inmates... It seemed that no matter the course events had taken, that mercenary was slotted for death.
There were other variables, of course, but none so likely--especially considering Riddick's presence and the mercenary's actions.
"I suppose it is good that he stopped her," said her father. He then paused, quietly contemplating, "You say she went with him?"
"Yes--pretty much forced him to take her with him. I'm not sure what to think about Riddick or Audrey. The mercenaries, however, threatened the lives of the students. The man that held Audrey hostage pointed his gun at us when Audrey wouldn't put handcuffs on."
Adela frowned. She would be lodging a complaint against the guild over this. She was quite sure several other council members would do the same; several of their children attended Lucian's Academy. Well, she amended, she would if Riddick had left any of the mercenaries alive for her complaints.
"What was your impression of this Riddick?"
Lynne paused--never one to give an honest question a thoughtless answer. After several moments of gathering her thoughts and putting together what little she knew of the quiet man, the girl made up her mind. It wasn't as informed an opinion as she wanted and there was little she could glean from other people's interactions. All the rumors were taken with a grain of salt, if not entirely discarded. She didn't have much information to work with.
"He's a very prominent man; seems to stand out wherever he goes... From what I saw, he was very level-headed and observant. By the look of him, stubborn, too. I don't think he does anything he doesn't want to."
Jack was in a bad mood. Not only did she have to get more clothes, but Rachel and Riddick had decided to come with her. It wasn't like she couldn't do this on her own! Rachel explained that it was the first time they'd gone out together as a 'family unit' for something else other than a job of some sort. The brunette didn't care. All she wanted was to get some underwear, a few shirts, and then get gone.
Leaving the ship like this, putting herself out here in the open, it made her feel vulnerable and jittery. She could see her past all around her--see it creeping up behind her and knew there was nothing she could do about it. If there was one thing that unnerved Jack, it was inescapable, unavoidable threats. Nemaeus 4 was as much a monstrous trap as Daedalus... just in different ways.
Nevertheless, here they were at a shopping complex. Rachel was energetic for some reason Jack didn't understand. As they neared the clothing department, Riddick excused himself and wandered off to the hardware aisles. The green-eyed girl didn't blame him. Still, she had things she needed. Jack could always go to join him when she was finished here.
The former pickpocket navigated through the aisles and found her sizes. She knew what she was looking for and approximately where to get it. This should be simple: go into the store, find your items, get out. Unfortunately, Rachel took it upon herself to explain that this was the entirely wrong way to go about shopping. The redhead then proceeded to elucidate her on the proper method of shopping.
It included 'browsing.' Jack was coming to despise 'browsing.'
"Why are we just meandering through all this shit? I already have what I need."
"I told you, you're not shopping if you just get what's sufficient," Rachel reminded.
Jack muttered, "And here I thought I was being efficient."
"That's why I'm here," the mouse said with a small smile, then gestured to an ensemble, "Look at this."
The taller girl was unimpressed with what she saw. Less than unimpressed, she was put off... almost disgusted by the piece. Did it even qualify as clothing if it didn't cover anything? Jack frowned. Rachel had somehow conned her, discreetly migrating them slowly from sports bras and utilitarian underwear to lacy underwear... and from lacy underwear to lingerie. The brunette was distinctly uncomfortable in this aisle.
"Why are we even looking at this? It doesn't look too comfortable..."
Rachel smirked, "This stuff isn't for your comfort, Jack. You wear it because you won't be wearing it for long."
Jack's face slowly reddened.
"Oh my God, Jack--look at this!" Rachel exclaimed as she pulled a number of its rack.
Jack eyed it warily. It was a green negligee; solid in color, unlike the many transparent items surrounding it. The straps were little more than slivers of myrtle-toned fabric. The body of it was quite slender and looked to be satin of a hunter green shade. She could tell it would cling to her curves. The neckline didn't plunge so much as dip pleasantly; it showed ample cleavage, but not a scandalous amount. The bottom of it stopped above mid-thigh, which showed off plenty of leg. She knew that was the point--to entice, but the very thought of wearing such a thing made her feel exposed. The neck and hem of the negligee were trimmed with thin, black lace in a vaguely vine-floral pattern; not enough to make it frilly, but enough to draw attention to it.
"It compliments your eyes... You'd so drive him crazy with this."
That made the street rat frown and she pointed out the problem with the negligee, "Rachel, he can't see color, only brightness."
The mouse gave a sigh and a roll of her eyes, "It's not about what he can't see, it's about what you're not hiding. Y'know... less is more..."
Jack fought down another blush, but wasn't quite successful.
'What would Riddick do if he saw me in this?' she wondered as her face began to burn from the scorching scenario running through her mind.
Seeing the dumbfounded, flustered, and flushed look on Jack's face as the girl stared at the negligee cinched it for Rachel. It was a must. She grabbed the brunette's hand and dragged her to the sales lady nearby. Jack protested lightly, but without any real effort.
"Is there something to put this in? ...It's supposed to be a surprise," Rachel explained to the sales rep.
The woman glanced from the blushing girl staring at the sexy, green item and smiled, "Of course. We can put it in a solid bag--put the scan tag on the outside. ...Knock 'im dead, girl."
"Thanks," Jack muttered as she grabbed the small bag and tossed it into the basket with the packages of bras and undies.
After a short time of snagging a few plain, white short- and long-sleeved shirts, they decided that Jack had sufficiently replenished her stock of whites. Now they had to collect Riddick. Upon heading over to the hardware section, Jack became more interested. Rachel noticed how she started taking notice of the merchandise and let her eyes linger on the various tools--most of which were either sharp-edged or pointy. The redhead silently observed this with a small hint of humor. Perhaps Jack did know how to shop--just not for clothes.
They found Riddick with a few things under his arm, a few TardisCo power cells and a case of DiamonDrill drill bits. Apparently his workshop tools needed a little maintenance, themselves. They hadn't had anything break, yet... but it was always good to be prepared. He looked at the basket she had and raised a brow. Jack blushed and would have crossed her arms, were she not holding the basket. She had a little more than she expected to get when she came in, so what? That was half-way Rachel's fault, anyhow!
The brunette glanced off to the side in mild embarrassment and received a distraction. She leapt upon it, equal parts genuine interest and as a diversion. She pulled a small, plastic-wrapped multi-tool off the shelf. It had the appearance of a Swiss army knife in terms of function and hand-held design. Jack flipped it over to read the back to see what various gadgets it included.
"Check this out. It's like that blade-work tool you gave me, but it's got a full carving kit."
Apparently, this was the equivalent of talking shop with Riddick, who also became interested. Rachel hadn't seen him interested in very much--well, not in a non-violent way--since she boarded the Gift of Nyx. Big Evil took the plastic-sealed tool, gave a look at the specs on the back of the box, and took a moment to read a few things over.
The tool had just about everything, a sawing blade, a tiny auger good for making holes, a coring blade to widen holes, several chiseling and gouging tools, a shaver and plane, paring blade, and a peeler blade. On the other side there was a blade sharpener. One end was a round, blunt end made of metal; suitable for hammering something. There was also a small, multi-purpose, and durable file/sander that was removable from the body of the tool. This last bit, Riddick supposed, was for polishing works. He nodded.
"Beautiful," the bald man muttered, then grabbed another off the rack and tossed both into Jack's basket. This was followed by either a suggestion or a command--probably both, "Check out."
When they met with the cashier, she went about ringing up the items. Said cashier was around Jack and Rachel's age and probably working here as her first job. The girl paused at the bag, scanning the tag as she glanced up at the customers. The redhead grinned back at her and the brunette blushed as the item was placed with their other items. As she rang up the final price, she swept her eyes over the large man wearing sunglasses who was studiously looking disinterested in the world around him.
The man paid for everything; the cashier was more than a little envious of the street rat, but didn't let it get to her. The mouse grabbed a few of the bags and the man moved out of the line. As Jack picked up the opaque bag containing her negligee, she met the cashier's eyes.
"Have a good evening," the girl said with a knowing grin.
The green-eyed girl's face turned an interesting shade of red and hurried off after Rachel. Riddick followed silently, but not quite obliviously. He knew there was an undercurrent going on between the girls... The man wasn't sure if he should be amused or wary. Knowing Jack, the wisest and safest answer was likely both.
They left the shopping center just past seventeenth hour. The girls and Riddick had made a simple run for a few items and it wasn't surprising they were successful. They hadn't done anything spectacular to draw attention to themselves. Nothing unexpected occurred to hinder this little outing. Riddick should have known it wouldn't last. As they moved down the wide sidewalk where stray particles of sand and dust stirred from a sandstorm that morning, his eyes immediately focused on the excess of movement approaching them.
A boy was running forward, his eyes hopeful and intent. He had a goal of some sort, but it didn't involve Riddick. The boy was ignored until he opened his mouth and shouted.
"Hey, wait up! Deirdre!"
Directly in front of him, Jack went ramrod straight and halted in her steps. The bags she had been carrying fell to the ground. The green-eyed girl immediately began back-pedaling from the approaching boy, but her back slammed into Riddick's broad form. He put his hands on her shoulders and held her fast--anchored her in the here and now; somehow protected her from the eerie flashback to... her. With her back against his chest, he could feel her hyperventilating.
The boy ran beyond them, continuing his dash after someone--someone else--named Deirdre. Even so, Jack's panic attack was just reaching fever pitch. Rachel had paused when she heard the bags drop. She stared at the two of them with confused and worried looks. Riddick's grip tightened just slightly on Jack's shoulders. Then he bent down to snatch up the bags and replaced a single hand on Jack's shoulder. He used that hold to steer the street rat into an alleyway. The mouse concernedly followed.
Leaned against a wall, Jack shivered in a cold sweat, her mouth open and panting. Her arms wrapped around her waist, fingers curled tightly and fisted parts of her shirt strong as a death clutch. Her eyes closed tightly as she slid down the wall.
"Jack... are you with me?" Riddick rumbled.
Rachel remembered him asking this before, when she visited Jack at the Al-Walid's house. She wasn't sure of the significance of it, but it was somehow important. She looked at Jack, who looked trapped in a time and place beyond reach. Confusedly, green eyes flicked up to stare at Riddick, squinting slightly... as though she couldn't fathom how he managed to be there, standing before her.
"...What?"
Riddick knelt down, squatting on his haunches as he removed his sunglasses, quicksilver eyes shining into her own, which were glassy and tearing. Those verdant orbs were expressive and vulnerable; found reassurance in the cold-steel gaze. Jack shuddered again, her fear still very alive and the adrenaline screaming through her system like a chemical rollercoaster. Her breathing was slowing down with the distraction from past horrors. The street rat's fingers trembled as they slowly unclenched, leaving the sides of her shirt wadded, wrinkled, and sweaty.
"Are you with me, Jack?"
"I-I think so," she answered waveringly. The strength began to return to her eyes and she took a deep, focused breath; the exhale had a bit of a shudder to it, but no longer hitched an uncontrolled. It would take a while for her system to calm from its geared-up state. Her nerves finally firmed up, "Yeah. I'm with you."
He waited a few moments--just to make sure she wouldn't break on him. Her eyes told him she was good to go.
"We need to get back to the ship."
Jack nodded, shoved off the wall, and pushed herself to her feet. She wiped her eyes and brow, then straightened her shirt as best she could. Another deep breath and she pulled up a mask; this one pleasantly blank and untroubled. It reminded Rachel of the time when Jack had used a 'happy mask' with her after the Pit; it bothered the shorter girl that the brunette was so adept at hiding herself.
He glanced to the redhead; she'd been very quiet. Riddick knew she was observing and soaking up information. He hoped that she remembered his request, because it was about time to bring it up. As Jack followed Riddick out of the alley, Rachel brought up the rear.
Jack had problems. He knew that almost from the first time he spotted her. His initial thought was that, at some point, she would be eaten alive... some point fairly soon. At the time, it had been a figurative thought, that she would escape the crash of the Hunter-Gratzner and summarily be swallowed in her own problems on a new world. Die or simply turn into a shell, she wouldn't have lasted long.
When all his assessments began to take on a literal sense, and it became an imminent threat that she might be truly devoured by the creatures of that planet... something had changed. Carolyn had changed something in him and suddenly it became one of his top goals to get her, Fry, and Imam off that planet. That goal was second only to his own survival.
Now she was threatened again. This time, it wasn't something physical that he could grab, break, or cut. That same thing that he had seen at the very beginning was eating her from the inside out and he had no way of stopping it by himself. Jack was going to break.
'Fuck that. Not gonna happen.'
His denial was startlingly fierce, but it was true. It had to be. Riddick didn't know how he would stop it from happening, but he didn't have to... There was a doc for everything these days and he was sure Mouse could find one that could help. Big Evil wouldn't stand idle as Jack fell to pieces. He had to do something--it bordered on necessity. That primitive, animal side stalked his mind in outrage and demanded he protect the girl. Riddick knew the feeling wouldn't go away until he was sure Jack wouldn't break.
The trio sat quietly in the lounge. Big Evil remained pensive on his recliner with his elbows on his knees and hands clasped under his chin. Jack had curled up on the couch with her knees to her chest. Rachel sat beside her; hands in her lap fiddling occasionally. The air was almost tense and both girls could see the gears turning in his head. It was only a matter of time before he broke this silence.
While Riddick was contemplating, Jack waited to see what it was. Rachel, curious as to why both of them were sitting there, doing nothing in silence, quietly observed. It was plain to see that something was bothering the large man.
"How long're you gonna do this? ...Never mind that, how long've you been doing this, Jack?"
She picked up quickly on the topic. The brunette shrugged, "I dunno. If I don't remember doing it, how'm I supposed to know?"
The escaped convict nodded; it was a valid but disturbing point. If she just hid away anything traumatic, there was no telling what all happened in her past. He just hoped she didn't go through another 'episode' when they were out. What had just happened was just a shock... a nameless fear. If something triggered a memory while they were in public, everything would go to Hell in a hand basket.
"If I had to guess, it might have started before I left for Daedalus. I mean, my Aunt and Uncle were assholes. Maybe they did stuff that I didn't wanna remember..." She groaned, just thinking of the sick possibilities; of not knowing what really happened in her own life, "Oh shit, what if I didn't spend just two weeks with 'em? What if I was there for months--who knows what they really did? What if I'm some kinda nutcase? What if my mind's totally psycho-fucked 'cause o' something they did?"
Her voice was climbing toward hysteria--realizing just how big of a sinkhole this repressing thing could be. She hadn't wanted to believe Imam when he told her that doing it would be problematic. The problem was spitting in her face more and more, these days--since she'd left with Riddick. What if she went bug-fuck someday and killed everyone in their sleep or something? What kind of dark traps lay in store for her?
"Easy, Jack."
"But what if she's still lurking somewhere in my head? I buried her--I don't want her coming back!" she said, fists clenching on the couch cushions.
"Jack, calm down."
Rachel carefully asked, "She who?"
Neither responded.
"Jack, you need to talk about it, sometime--maybe not with me, but with someone. Maybe some doc. They're s'pposed to be able to fix up things like this."
"No. I'm not going to bring her back."
"What happens when something that happened to her or something she did comes back to bite us in the ass?"
Quiet reigned for a bit.
"...I'm scared of her," she finally admitted in a quiet voice.
Riddick sighed, trying to think of a way around this--at the very least get her to consider the option of seeing some kinda shrink. He usually screwed with the heads of the ones he saw in slam, but this was a different.
"I know you won't want to hear this, Jack-"
Her head whipped toward him so fast he wondered if she hurt herself, "Don't."
"-but she can't hurt you-"
"Riddick! Don't."
"-because you are Deirdre."
"Fuck you!" she yelled, abruptly standing up from the couch.
"Sit the fuck down!" he bellowed as he stood. His commanding tone of voice sank her back to the couch, where she remained silent and glaring. "I'm sick of going through this shit every time somethin' creeps up from your past. I'm done with it, Jack. We're gonna fix this. Now."
Jack remained silent, refusing to speak on the subject at all. She started to tune him out. Nothing to do with her could be good. She died and was going to stay buried--nestled nice and deep where no one would see her ever, ever again.
"You go ahead with the silent treatment, Jack... but I'm findin' a shrink and you'll see 'im if I have to drag your ass to him every appointment."
That got her attention. She lifted her eyes to him, smoldering with unspoken rage. Her jaw worked fiercely, but still no sound emitted from her. She couldn't believe he was doing this to her!
"An' if you think you're just gonna sit there all quiet with him, we'll just stay there 'til you feel like talkin'. However long it takes, Jack. I don't care; but it's getting worked out."
Silence and seething anger met him. In mere moments the temperature of the room seemed to simultaneously scorchingly sky-rocket and frigidly plunge. However, Rachel watched as the nigh-hateful glare simply bounced off Riddick's expressionless countenance.
"You found anything, Mouse?"
Jack startled gaze whipped to her and Rachel almost flinched at the almost betrayed expression.
"I-I found..." she cleared her throat, trying not to let Jack get to her, and firmed her voice to sound more capable, "I found two doctors in behavioral psychology--among other specialties--planet-side. In fact, they're in the same building. They both hold the same titles. I wasn't sure which was better."
"Which one's been around the longest?" he asked.
"Uhm... Dr. Tachygnic," answered Rachel after looking at the files. She stumbled over the surname--it wasn't one she had ever heard.
"He busy?"
"He actually has the smallest caseload, right now. The other has about nine cases; he has four. I only considered the other because Jack might be more comfortable talking to another female... she has equal credentials," she ended the sentence questioningly as she glanced to the brunette.
Jack smoldered, her fiery, forest-green eyes burning holes into the wall dividing the lounge from the kitchen. When addressed, the girl stood and stalked out of the lounge, retreating to her room. Her door zipped along its tracks and banged shut. Rachel glanced down glumly at her com-pad.
"Don't let her get to you with that. She's just pissed. ...Probably stay that way for a while," Riddick said offhand, but there was no hint of nonchalance in his glinting gaze.
Rachel nodded.
"Jack doesn't give a shit about what gender someone is, she'll say what's on her mind. ...Might as well go with that veteran doc."
"Should I set up an appointment for her, then?"
Riddick nodded this time, "Yeah, set it up as soon as you can; just remember to leave at least three hours for the cargo... anything else we can schedule around."
"Okay."
WEDNESDAY
At the eighth hour sharp, Sorin walked into his office that morning with the same impatience he had been feeling for the past week. It would likely be another week before anything came of it, but he couldn't control how he felt. There was only so much joy to be had from watching his project recover from adverse effects faster than expected. Even faster than expected was slower than he wanted. It couldn't be helped, though. Since any tests during this period would be colored by the effects of the specimen's illness, the doctor kept occupied by thinking up new tests and scenarios to run on his special project.
He sat down at his computer and began typing out the mandatory project report, though there was precious little to write about such an uneventful, unproductive week...
Weekly Report
Week 317
My observations of the subject continue. It is tolerating well and no adverse effects are apparent. I have moved Specimen 74's schedule back a week while more antibiotics, anti-venoms, and viruses are introduced into its system.
Of note, the dense structure of its skin required a stronger syringe. I want to avoid using a larger needle if possible. The specimen's agitation has been displayed several times in the form of hisses and clicks, jerking or twitching movement of the tail, and bearing its teeth. We are carefully watching the specimen for any violent responses.
It has tolerated injections well and no noticeable or unpredictable side-effects are apparent.
-Doctor Sorin cel Rau, Director of Research
This finished, the doctor turned away from the monitors and sat in thought. After a few minutes, he knew he had best check in on the specimen. Snagging his coffee, he headed out the door and toward the room containing his subject. He checked the monitors to find Specimen 74 shuffling about its room without any particular focus. The standard clicks normally heard as a constant had, for the past week, become a low, rumbling buzz. Sorin thought it might be because its throat was congested or sore. Sniffs and the occasional cough were also heard through the audio. He was pleased to see that, as instructed, the subject was drinking lots of the protein-rich fluid they provided in a variety of flavors.
Abu Al-Walid always ate lunch at home with his wife. Ziza was home from school early; the school was having a fair sponsored by the middle school. The elementary and high school afternoon classes were likewise cancelled so the students could attend. These yearly fairs were a way to expand the children's horizons and involve them in the community. Imam was setting the table for dinner when he heard a polite knock on the door. Immediately following this, he heard Ziza's excited charge for the door. Even as he turned and headed for the door, he knew that his daughter would reach it first. As if to prove his point, he heard the door swing open and light spilled in from the foyer.
"Lynne!" he heard Ziza exclaim.
"Hey there, little one. You excited about the fair?"
The Holy Man paused slightly in his steps, then shook himself out of his surprise, and continued to the door. Lynne was running a hand through Ziza's hair and mussing it. Ziza giggled. When Lynne looked up from the little girl, she noticed Imam. She smiled at him.
"Councilman Al-Walid, hello," she greeted politely, inclining her head to him.
"Hello, Lynne," Imam replied easily, "Please, come in. Was there something the Envoy needed?"
The redhead shook her head as she followed him into the dining room, "No, everything is well with the Envoy."
"Ah. Your parents and yourself, then?"
"I think I am progressing well. My parents and I are leaving; I'm going on an internship with them. It should go a long way to give me some world experience for when my duties begin."
Abu continued setting the table and smiled back at her, "Yes, I have faith that you will perform admirably, young Lynne. What was it you needed?"
"Well, there's a good chance that we might run across Riddick and Audrey--er... Jack? Anyway, I was hoping that you would allow me to take some of her things. Their departure was rather abrupt and I have a feeling that they didn't have time to stop by here."
"That is correct, I did not see them before they left. Depending on how much you can take with you, I am sure Lajjun and I could pack a few things for her. We will be attending the fair, however, and I do not have time right this minute. We were about to have lunch," he explained as finished setting the table, then he paused and turned to her, "Would you care to join us, or do you have plans?"
"My parents and I will be attending the fair, as well. I just came by to ask. We'll be leaving after the fair; would it be okay if we dropped by around eighteenth hour to pick up her things? Is an hour enough time?"
Imam nodded, "Yes, it should be."
Lynne smiled, "That's good. I appreciate your offer, but I will be eating with my parents and then heading to the fair. ...However, I could use a glass of water, if you don't mind. The sun's just starting to peak, after all."
"Of course, of course, it's no trouble at all, young Lynne," he acquiesced understandingly as he went into the kitchen.
Lajjun, who was looking over lunch, paused briefly to greet Lynne. After the refreshing drink had revitalized her, Lynne let out a sigh and smiled her thanks. Imam took the glass from her and saw her to the door.
"Thank you, Councilman Al-Walid. We'll see you this evening, then. Have a good afternoon."
"Very well. Good afternoon, Lynne."
FRIDAY
The flight to the Nano-Med, Inc. Distribution Center on Nemaeus 4 was uncomfortably quiet. The only words spoke came from Riddick as he made very slight corrections to Jack's piloting. She didn't respond to his corrections verbally, just as she hadn't in their spars. Instead, she dutifully followed his instruction and went on about her business. Unless something absolutely required a verbal response, the street rat refused to speak. Jack hadn't spoken more than four sentences over three words long since Monday.
Once again, spars had devolved into another series of 'I'm pissed; let's see if I can pummel Big Evil' sessions. Riddick was getting thoroughly sick of it and he considered saying something... but the things Jack did when she was angry impressed him too much. He had decided to let her go about her little tantrum; she was improving her combat skills by leaps and bounds. In other areas... not so much improvement. Tension became thick as peanut butter whenever the two of them were in a room for any length of time. Riddick was never one to apologize--especially when he didn't feel like he had anything to apologize for.
He hoped she wouldn't be hostile while they were acting as the Connals. No matter how much Big Evil was humoring this little silent treatment of hers, he would not allow her to blow their cover. Fortunately, he didn't have to worry. The moment the girl walked down the ramp, she adopted an expressionless mask that he would be hard pressed to beat.
They arrived at Nano-Med, Inc. at 10:30 on the button. The floor manager they met for their cargo was pleasant enough, if a little busy directing the carefully controlled chaos. He delegated one of his dockers to forklift the three crates of Nano-Med Plus tubes into their cargo bay. Ami was not only their hardest working docker, but one of the union representatives, and knew how to keep things moving at a good pace without sacrificing quality. The woman said she would meet them next week for the other half of their shipment--the Nano-Med Plus canisters. With Ami's help, they had all the cargo well-placed and strapped down with time to spare for a leisurely lunch. Before they left, the woman commended the Connals on their smooth loading, commenting that she wished some of her own crew were as diligent.
The ride back was as quiet as the ride there, save for one moment when Jack let out a large gasp when a downdraft slammed the ship. Riddick had taken control of the ship and safely saw them to ground them until the heavy winds subsided. Most hover-vehicle traffic stopped while the impromptu gales raged. After 20 or so minutes, the winds subsided and they received an all-clear notification from the weather watch system.
The brunette didn't say anything, but she was grateful that Riddick took over; she had panicked and didn't think to increase the bow thrusters. Later, he explained that using the bow's thrusters in tandem with the reverse thrusters would bring them out of situations like the startling, near nose-dive earlier; once the ship was leveled out, guiding the ship to ground at an angle was better than trying to touch down perpendicularly. Jack nodded and Riddick could tell she would remember that. Even so, her wide, green eyes showed that she was not in a hurry to ever be in a situation where that information was required.
"Jacquelyn Riley," called the receptionist.
His hand rested on her shoulder, guiding her all the way down the hall. It was as if he didn't trust her to go forward on her own. Probably right; given the chance, she might just storm out. Her head turned slightly to the waiting room and the exit residing there. His grip became a little firmer. Shit.
They turned right at a door with a name on it. Jack didn't bother reading it. Riddick directed her into the room and she saw a man of average height and build. Black hair, brown eyes. Glasses. Nondescript kind of person. The look was probably cultivated to put people at ease. His almost freakish normality only put her on edge. Riddick moved her over to a chair and, lest she suffer the indignity of being pushed down into the chair, she seated herself.
Eyes immediately went to the window, freedom five feet away--and eight stories down. She refused to meet the studying gaze of Doctor... who gave a fuck who he was. He went through the typical "I'm here to help you" and "My name is" bits. She tuned both out; she didn't care to learn his name and wasn't going to listen. His goal was to let her out, and that made him the opposition.
"Richard Riley. This's Jack," Riddick said easily.
"Hello, Richard, Jack. Since this is our first session, I feel we should talk about what the goals of our sessions should be and how we will reach those goals."
'You wanna screw with my head, that's your fuckin' goal.'
She didn't reply. Riddick gave her a sidelong glance. As she'd been doing for the most part of the past two days, she ignored him. Finally, he gave in and began talking when she refused.
"Jack's not going to make this easy. She's got more than a few problems--she won't talk about 'em, though. Turns to stone every time I bring somethin' up. She's still on one of her silent treatments."
Jack said nothing, but she pulled out a length of unworked metal from her pocket and retrieved the file from her left boot. With blatant disregard to both of them, she began shaving slivers of metal from the bar. The sound of metal sliding against metal filled the room. Riddick glared at her from behind his goggles.
"What do you have there, Jacquelyn?"
'Wait a little and I'll show you up close, asshole.'
Almost as if he could read her thoughts, Riddick held out his hand.
"Put it up or give it up, Jack."
The sound of paring metal continued, and the pile of shavings grew on the carpet. Heedless of his growing dissatisfaction, Jack continued to shape the shiv to her liking. Suddenly, he had her shiv-hand by the wrist. She hit the inside of his elbow, and twisted her wrist out of his grip. Riddick shoved her right hand away snagged her left wrist again. She shot out her right hand toward his wrist and he checked it, directing it somewhere over his shoulder. Riddick pressed his thumb into a pressure point on the back of her left hand that made her jerk and drop the length metal.
He released her hands and caught the shiv-in-progress before it hit the ground. He slipped it into his belt behind him.
"You're not gonna tune this out, Jack. You can work that on your own time, but in here... you deal with your problems."
The doctor watched the lightning-quick movements of the two. It was like something out of an action-thriller vid. Both had dangerous looks on their faces as they glared at one another. Jack crossed her arms and glared out the window again. Riddick sat back, appearing a little less pleasant than when he had come in.
"If you can get her to talk, that's points to you, doc... If she starts pulling that shit again, tell me. We're working this out here and now."
Riddick left them alone, then. It was against his better judgment, but he didn't think Jack would kill the man. Run out, maybe. He'd deal with that. Honestly, he knew it wouldn't happen overnight... he had to give it a chance. Jack deserved it. For a long moment, he stood outside the door--wondering if he should have stayed during this first session or not. He once read something somewhere about people needing emotional and moral support.
'Right. Moral support...'
He moved back to the lounge.
Doctor Vincent Tachygnic watched the large man move out of the room. The short episode saw its end and their natures returned to their stagnant appearances--the man at once stoic and the girl taciturn. He turned his gaze to the girl. Vincent continued to stare at Jacquelyn--hoping for some sort of response... but she was a difficult one, as Mr. Riley had said.
"Jack, is it? He seems quite obdurate. Does that bother you?"
No answer.
Finally he came to a decision. It wasn't particularly ethical, but it would work.
"Mhm," he noised seemingly to himself. He scribbled noisily on a sheet and glanced up at Jack periodically during his writing. The list he was making continued to grow.
Slowly, Jack's attention slipped over to the man's pen. What the Hell was he writing so much about? She hadn't said anything to him--what kind of psycho-fucked analysis could he be coming up with? The more she thought about him making judgments on her without knowing shit about her, the angrier it made her. Finally, after almost two minutes of enduring his thoughtful speculation, she snapped.
"What the fuck is so interesting? If you keep eyeballing me, you'll lose 'em."
Whether it was a turn of phrase or a threat, Vincent didn't respond to it. Instead, he went on with the thoughts he had prepared for just this moment.
"I understand you're Mr. Riley's co-pilot. Did you know that, as a government-licensed Doctor, I have the ability to rule someone as unfit to drive or operate heavy machinery? I have a drawer full of blank forms..."
Her eyes burned into him coldly. Fucker.
"Try to sign that paper, and I'll break your hand," Jack all but growled, this time bypassing all hints and moving straight into overt threats.
"I suspected as much. You seem quite capable of handling yourself, which makes me wonder why you're here..."
Jack snorted, "'cause he's making me."
"I doubt it's out of his own sadistic pleasure," Vincent countered.
The reply was a mutter, "...that's probably half of it, though..."
Raising his brows, Doctor Tachygnic leaned back.
"So what's the other half?"
Jack crossed her arms, "Thinks my repressed memories are gonna fuck us over at some point."
As the words left her mouth, Jack realized that he'd manipulated the answer from her and her face went red with anger. How dare this asshole toy with her mind? Her entire body tightened, fingers digging into the upholstery and pulling at the arms of the chair. Her frame shook with barely suppressed invective.
"Fuck you!"
'So much for suppression. Repressed memories... now there's something you don't hear every day.'
This obviously wasn't some inane fear of success or typical hormonal teen depression. If he had to guess, he would say she was wise beyond her years. Even though her mouth could probably peel the siding off the building and make platoons of Marines blush, he was not about to underestimate her intelligence. There was something about her... something atypical.
For the first time, he had something worth writing. He moved the little notepad and opened a file. He began by writing down two, short lines and ended it with a question mark.
"What the Hell have you been writing?" she demanded.
Vincent tossed her the small notepad. Jack snagged it with nary a glance.
'Good coordination. Then again, the earlier display with the piece of metal said as much.'
Jack glared at the small list before her.
'Four sweet potatoes, half pound of brown sugar, two bags of rice, turkey... What-'
"-the fuck?" she said aloud.
"Just a list of things I need to buy after I'm done here," Vincent said placidly.
Jack realized that he'd weaseled answers out of her with a grocery list, which only served to make her angrier--but also grudgingly respect him. He was smart--wily, too. Maybe as conniving as Riddick was when he got all pent up a few weeks into space without cryo.
She crushed the list in her fist and threw it at him.
Vincent took off his glasses and retrieved the mangled paper from his desk, taking time to restore it from its crumpled form. When he'd finished, he leveled his eyes on Jack. The seriousness in his gaze made her suddenly wary. Wary like an animal, Vincent thought, because she shifted in the same manner his dog did when he stared at it disapprovingly after it had gotten into the garbage. However, this was no domesticated grovel, but a purely predatory response to a threat. Jack would have raised hackles if she had a fur coat, he bet.
"This isn't a game, Jack. If you're serious, then repressed memories are not something to trifle with. I want to help you... but I'm not going to force anything else out of you. I doubt I could.
"But I do want to put something on your mind. There are a great many responses that can come of repressed memories when, or if, they ever surface--and some of them are violent." The therapist paused to make sure he had her attention, "They could be harmful to yourself or to others. I don't like the idea of people getting hurt, that's why I'm a doctor. I try to help--make things better.
"However, this isn't something where I can just sprinkle some magic dust on you and fix every little bad thing that's happened in your life. I'm not a miracle worker, Jack. I can't help unless I understand. I need to know what's happened, where you've been in your life."
Jack's glare moved to the window again, "Where I've been, Doc, you'd've been eaten alive. Literally."
'Curious,' Vincent thought, "Literally?"
Her eyes snapped to him. They were simultaneously enraged and panicked.
"You ever see someone get ripped apart? Fuckin'... shower of blood. They're just so much meat for the monsters. Can't even recognize 'em when they're done. Picked clean, only tatters o' muscle hangin' off their bones. Almost hear the screaming even after they're dead... or maybe that was the monsters singin'.
"People die, Doc, that's just the way it is. So take your altruistic psychobabble and shove it. You can't fix shit."
She shouldn't have said that. All she'd wanted was for him to shut up! She was too angry to think straight, right now; not angry enough to kill, but she was getting close...
The fear was creeping up steadily on her anger, slowly replacing it with whoops and trills... hisses and clicks....
Jack grabbed for the necklace, squeezing it tight in both hands. Fuck him for making the sounds come back! Fuck him for making her have to fight them off again. How many times would they put her through this shit? She wasn't sure she could last much longer. Some times were easier than others, but it was no less frightening every time.
'I'm okay. I got away. We escaped. I'm okay.'
"Jack..."
''s okay... We left... I'm okay...'
"Jack."
Her tightly clenched eyes slowly opened. Too bright for the cave, even with the glowing grubs. Daylight. An office. Not that planet... The fuckin' doc was at his desk, leaning forward in an effort to grab her attention. It was his fault.
"Don't pick my head, doc. Ya won't like what ya find," she snarled shakily. "I'm the fuck outta here."
She stood up, one hand still fisted around her necklace. His eyes were drawn to it. What was she holding? She stalked out the room in as menacing a retreat as she could manage. Vincent sat back in his chair, letting out a breath. That could have gone better. Then again, he supposed it also could have gone much, much worse.
TUESDAY
Fisher-6 was a relatively quiet, if not law-abiding world. The best way to describe it would have been an industrialized, planetary slum. Between the tangled mass of wiring between buildings, the various power plants, and the gleaming, metal structures... a large part of the surface appeared to be a gigantic version of an old-worlds motherboard.
The analogy was so common that slang terms for the capitol included 'CPU.' The world itself was filled with the mechanically and technologically inclined. Specialists of many types of non-organic sciences, both legal and illegal, could be found here. Unfortunately, that made finding anyone in this profession who didn't want to be found nigh impossible. A person could be tipped off at the speed of the Networks and disappear before anyone ever reached their doorstep. Not only were inhabitants of Fisher-6 proverbial needles in a haystack, but the needles could hide.
Fortunately for the Sentry Sector field agents, they had someone on the inside--someone angry. This time, Sentry wasn't wasting their time when they found the trail led to Fisher-6. That was why, in the dead of the night, promptly at the twenty-eighth hour, a certain apartment door was kicked in. After that, it was organized and pre-planned pandemonium...
"Sentry Sector! On the ground, now!" came the shouts as eight agents flooded the suite.
Two men immediately held up their hands and were summarily dragged out of their chairs and to the ground. The third tried to run, but was caught as he was opening a window. This individual was thrown to the ground and cuffed. Rights were read, charges were cited, and the three men were hauled to their feet and loaded into a Department of Defense prisoner transport.
They would be taken to the docking bays, where they would be transported to Fisher-2; a penal colony planet. Fisher-2 was an all-in-one judicial system. Its temporary holding cells, courts, and prison were all contained on that one planet. The prison facility was minimum- to high-security. In the event that someone truly diabolical came along that was deemed too dangerous for general inmate populace, they were shipped to a maximum-security prison such as Butcher Bay Correctional Facility. The Fisher System, for all its under-the-table, illegal, black-market bravado... did not want those types in their territory. It could even be said that the crime and corruption of Fisher-6 and the Fisher System Stations were mostly non-violent.
The charges against these three men in particular were a good many counts of cyber-terrorism, illegal access of a private network, and grand larceny each and all. They operated in a group known as 'The Knights of NI' under the aliases Arthur, Galahad, and Lancelot. However, in all their many felonies, they made one, glaring mistake. They broke a common hacker law--the second one, to be precise. A hacker's alias is sacrosanct.
When one hacker uses another hacker's alias--for any deed or function--it is a given that there will be retaliation. The Knights of NI had not anticipated just how much trouble they might stir. There was a mysterious lack of foresight when they considered using the third most-wanted hacker group alias to cover their tracks. It is best to let sleeping dogs lie... especially when said dog is a three-headed hound of Hell.
Everyone at Sentry Sector had a front seat for the action. This take-down was a point for their redemption, whereas the DoD had begun to doubt them. The live feed from one of the eyepieces of their field agents cut, leaving them with a triple-paned screen. The files on the three computers had been seized and were currently displayed for their review.
"Quick an' clean... just the way I like my sandwiches," Torvald said, leaning back from his monitor. There was a well-placed--if not overzealous--grin upon his face.
Lieutenant General Greco looked up from his console to his old friend and raised a brow. His sarcasm was thick, "If I didn't know any better, I would say you're enjoying this."
"This has been annoying me for a while," admitted Torvald, "When I was in the Riddlers, we never stole anything. Sphinx wouldn't associate with someone petty enough to knock over a bank. So when I heard Cerberus hit the Aquilan Banking Trust... it was kinda hard to swallow.
"What was an upper echelon group of hackers doing swiping UDs from a bank? To what end? It was just a little off-kilter, but I didn't have any evidence to support my theory. It didn't sound like Cerberus' usual activities in any of our profiles. They'd never attempted something so blatant or malicious.
"Seeing this; seeing the truth come out and the problem solved... that makes it all worthwhile. I'm certainly enjoying this. Sometimes hacking isn't about breaking into something that's supposedly unbreakable or knowing something others don't want you to know... Sometimes it's just about doing something nobody's done before. With Cerberus' help, we've solved an almost insurmountable case faster than any other high-profile case we've ever had."
He paused, his grin returning, "That's something. That is certainly something. Now! I'm going to grab a drink. All this action's got me a little thirsty."
Torvald stood up and noticed that his two shadows shifted to follow. By now he was used to them; not pleasantly, of course, but in a way someone gets used to a bad smell through desensitization. His investigation had to end sometime--there really wasn't that much to him.
The hacker paused by the exit and turned back to the sector's head, "Tony, you want something?"
Antony paused and shrugged, "I'll have a Coke."
"Sounds good to me," said the suspended agent as he moved to the vending machines in the hall.
'So foul and fair a day I have not seen...'
--END CHAPTER--
This chapter had a little bit of everything! I'm pretty happy with it. Some of these scenes have been sitting in my head (or pre-written in a file waiting to be pasted in) for quite a while! That this point should actually come about is just... wow! For me, at least. These are areas that, when I started, did not figure to see for a very long time!
For me, this is a little milestone. Jack's first therapy session marks what I had once consider a "future event" to happen "later." Now it's here... and we're one step closer to their destinies. Well, sort of. Heh. Onto my thoughts on this chapter!
Where to begin? Lynne's got another cameo, here. I love her to death; she's one of my favorite non-Zolus characters--up there with Zimmy and C4sper. Much with many things, I want to tell you all about stuff with Zimmy, Lynne, C4sper, Specimen 74, Nicholas, and Rachel... but it would just be a massive spoiler. Sharing my thoughts on scenes like this could ruin it.
So! Next we go to Jack. Finally, a bit of Jack's past begins creeping up on her. What will come of this? I did a little bit of everything with Jack, this installment. This chapter is mostly about her. I hope you enjoyed your Jack-time. I tried not to minimize Riddick's spotlight, though, even with the focus on Jack. Since the Nemaeus Arc is mostly Jack-centric, there's not a lot I can do to change the fact that Jack is gonna be in the forefront of a lot of scenes.
Another Wednesday report from Sorin! Poor bastard's bored. Feh. He'll be back to poking and prodding Specimen 74 soon enough. If you're wondering how many reports I have for this? Your answer: a lot. Enough to see us through the Nemaeus Arc.
Jack's first therapy session was important for me. I really needed to get everything in there... but at the same time, I'm aware that precious little is ever accomplished on the first visit to any therapist. So! What we've done is give Tachygnic an idea for where to go in this therapy.
...Some of you might be wondering how to pronounce that. It sounds like Tak-ee-nik. Or just 'Tacky Nick'... whatever you prefer! The 'g' is silent.
At last, we see the sum of all Rachel's and Sentry's efforts realized! The imposters have been apprehended! ...Be warned, we're not done here. (Cue evil laugh--or maybe just an evil chuckle.) Stay tuned for more on Aquilan Bank robbery developments!
Oh... and if any of you were wondering, Thug, Beth, Vince, and I got together to think up what brand names might have survived the centuries. We don't have an exact time frame for the Riddick universe, but I figured it couldn't be thousands of years or anything outlandish. We figured Coca-Cola, Pepsi, McDonald's, and Burger King were probably still around (somehow). I hope that explains the sudden and incongruous request for a Coke by brand name--I didn't want to break the fourth wall or anything.
Finally, I'd like to give a huge thanks to Thug, Beth, and Vince for all their help! Thanks guys!
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