The trusty writhed on the deck. He'd been vomiting--the smell was rank in the enclosed space. Okay, that answers that. His ass gets knocked out and the medicos at Rehab can deal with him. I'll take my chances on freezing him.
Johns was far-gone enough that he didn't notice Riddick's return. Even when the felon opened the nearest empty cryo-pod--there were plenty, now--Johns remained curled up in a ball near the head, shaking and wailing.
Riddick uncuffed the shackle he'd secured the trusty with, preparing to lift him and sling him into the open locker, when Johns kicked him in the ribs with his good leg. Howling with derangement, Johns attacked Riddick, biting, scratching, kicking. Tactics and strategy were beyond him, but his bad leg didn't seem to slow him down.
After the first shock, Riddick gained enough control over the other man to throw him into the open pod. Johns lunged at him, but Riddick landed a blow to the trusty's jaw that sent him reeling back, stunned.
Riddick hit the button for the pod cover, and activated the cryo sequence. Johns went motionless, face immobile in an expression of anguish.
The felon sighed and got out the mop-bot.