Chapter 35: Gugalanna

Put the contacts back in. Answer the door. It's Dahlgren. With a picnic basket. "Hey," he says. "Brought you guys some dinner." I take it, bemused. Let him in. He follows along like a puppy. "Jesus, it's dark in here. How's the girl?" He cranes around to look at her. Fuck me, he actually looks concerned.

I shrug. "Don't think she's woken up. Chance of seizure keeps ticking up."

"Yeah. Did that for us too. Happy to take the night shift."

Takes me a minute. Have to contemplate how dead he would be if I thought there was any chance of that. Manage a grin. "I'm good. Kinda staying away from the doc, to tell the truth."

"Don't blame you. She's pretty mad. Well, when she surfaces from the computers. She's pretty happy about that data dump."

I snort. "Any progress on getting communications back?"

"Nope. Or getting the blast doors open. We can't even figure out how to get back to the ships. How'dya do that?"

"Kept poking the walls until I found something. Will anyone check on this place if we're outta touch too long?"

"Oh, yeah," he says. "Probably. But it takes a couple of days for a blip to get to a relay station. No one will notice until then. They'll send someone. Of course, if the automatic defenses really have deployed, a ship might get shot down. Probably should get her up by then."

I grunt. "So she's got a couple of days to get better?"

He shrugs. "Depends on how pissed off Nara gets, I think. Problem for another day. Day after tomorrow, to be specific."

I bark a laugh. "Good enough."

"You need anything to make this place cozy?"

"Nah. There's a cot."

He nods. "Don't bother you to sleep in a bed the doc died in? Good man. If we don't get the coms back, someone'll be back at 0800 to check on you two."

I clap him on the shoulder. "Thanks, man."

He leaves. I lock the door. Think about shoving something heavy in front of it. Door opens in; something heavy in front'll keep Jack from wandering off in the night. Like she tried to do last night.

Very tempting.

But paranoid. Girl's strapped down. She ain't going nowhere until I let her. She might see something heavy as a sign I don't trust her.

Just leave it locked. But I hang our necklaces on the door knob. Just in case I fall asleep, they'll make a merry noise.

Take out the fucking contacts. Run through the workout routines again. Work up a sweat. Think about showering. Seizure forecast is up to 83%. Maybe later. Settle down in a chair with one of the consoles and start scanning through Jack's data dump while I eat some of Dahl's good food. He even sent some pudding for Jack, if she wakes up for it, and a small bottle of whisky.

Doc-in-the-Box pings. Suggests Jack needs hydratin' and that another seizure is on its way. Alrighty. Get up, start checking out supplies. Shoulda done that before. This doc had a lot of knock out drugs. I pocket a few. You never know. Find some clothes that might fit her; set them aside.

Find some restraints, kinda like the ones that are strapping her down. Handle them thoughtfully. Might be helpful. Put them aside too.

Find hydration stuff. Also find a straw, in case she wakes up and I don't wanna unstrap her for some reason. Uncover her arm. I'd strapped it in palm down. Unstrap it and roll it over, uncovering the soft underside. Uncovering the scar. I kiss it, gently. A shudder goes through her arm. "Jack?" I say. In my real voice.

She doesn't react. 'cause she's unconscious. Right. Doc-in-the-Box starts to ping. Great. Seizure forecast shoots up to 98%. Finish strapping her back just as another shudder goes through her. Then her whole body convulses, like she did when she came. Only so much harder. She's straining so hard against all the straps I know she's gonna be bruised.

I get on top of her. Hold her down. Let the convulsions pass through me. Her jaw's so tight I'm fucking grateful for a bit for the first time in my life; she coulda broken teeth and drowned in that blood. Murmur comforting shit in her ear, stroke her hair. She breaks out into cold sweat. The convulsions start to ease.

After a long time, I risk glancing up at the display. It's over, and the seizure forecast is dropping. Like she got it out of her system for a while. With one last tremor her body relaxes like she'd just finishing cumming. If the thigh strap wasn't there, I mighta done something inappropriate.

I lay there for a long time. Her breathing is fast and forced. Might be because there 120 kilos of convict on top of her. Lift myself up. Find a glass. Take a long drink. My hands are shaking. Glare at them until they're still.

Take another drink. Remember the last time I had a bit in my mouth. She's gotta be parched. Set up the hydration drip. Sterilize her arm. Sterilize the needle. Slide it in. Tuck the blanket around her.

Push the chair hard against the wall next to the bed. Settle down and read about Necromongers for a long time.

She was back on the nightmare planet. The suns were setting. Ridiculously, the table from the control room was there on the sands.

She stroked her hand over it. Nothing happened.

Someone was behind her. Shoved her face down hard. She kicked back. Heard the man yelp. She twisted off the table and ran.

Heard footsteps behind her. She'd been running forever. She was almost grateful for the hands on her. Until they shoved her down, hard, back on the table. Strong hands turned her over. The merc Riddick killed to save her. Johns. One hand was on her throat; the other was holding a bouquet of shackles. He grinned at her. "Hey, kid," he said.

"Fuck you," she said.

"Maybe later," he said. "Hey, big guy, little help?"

Riddick was there. Her heart sang just a little bit. He stalked over, bigger than life and twice as mean. "Whatcha need?"

"Save me," she whispered. He smiled down at her.

"Help me get her tied down," Johns said.

"No prob," Riddick replied. Johns tossed him shackle. It was as big as the universe. Riddick got it on her right wrist, yanked it hard, fastened it to the table.

"What are you doing?" she asked.

"Helping!" Johns answered. Riddick grabbled her left wrist, snapped on the cuff, pulled it to the other side of the table. Grinned at her.

"Don't," she whispered. "Please."

"It'll be fun," Riddick said. "Just relax."

Johns let go of her throat. "Don't you look good," he says. "Good enough to eat."

"Nom nom nom," Riddick said. He grabbed her right ankle. She kicked at him. His fingers tightened hard enough to hurt. "None of that," he said.

"Why are you doing this?" she asked, her voice cracking.

"Widdick bait." Johns said. "Be vewy vewy quiet. We're hunting Widdicks."

Riddick winked at her. Shackled her left ankle to the table.

"Jesus," she said. "You're using me as bait? For him? Is he here?"

Riddick had her right ankle in his palm. "Where else would he be?" Johns answered, brightly. "I mean, you're here."

Jack whimpered. "Shhhh," Riddick soothed. He stroked her hair. Whispered into her ear, giving her goose bumps. "It was inevitable. Relax and enjoy."

He kissed her, lovingly, and despite everything, she kissed him back. He broke it off far to soon. Grinned at her again. "See ya, kid," he said.

He and Johns walked away, leaving her, tied to the table on a planet where the ground seethed with monsters. Monsters that would come out in the dark.

Jack jerked awake. Heart pounding. Tied down. In a dark room. With a large body hulking beside her.

Tackling the Necros would be nuts. These folks kill for keeps. I was half tempted to take the job based on what Toombs and Abu said. Kill some monsters, make the girl happy, get to keep the girl. Now that I've done the reading, fuck that. If the blast doors weren't all closed, I'd roll her right onto my ship and get the fuck out of here.

Thing is, she's gonna give me shit. She wants to fight these monsters. Shiva's tears.

I stare at her hands. Really fucking regretting not just killing everyone and getting us the hell out of here yesterday morning.

The smell of her fear slaps me hard. Turn to look at her. She's dreaming. Her eyes are moving fast under her closed eyelids and her body is twitching like she's fighting. Poor kid.

Hits me that she'll wake up to being tied down and loomed over. I wouldn't like it.

Something else hits me. Smell of desire. First she's afraid, then she's turned on. Interesting.

Doc in the box says seizure risk 6%. Not so bad. I'm staring at the readings when her eyes open. She squeezes them shut fast. Awake. Pretending she's not. Alrightly. I'll play along. A bit.

Slip the contacts back in. Kneel down beside her. Kiss her cheek. "Rise and shine, sleeping beauty." Ghost my lips down to her neck. "Hmmm," I breathe. She goes goose bumps. I like that.

"Hey," I whisper into a soft ear. "It's me. Richards. Cyrus. You had a seizure. Mercs strapped you down so you wouldn't hurt yourself. Watching over you." I stroke her soft hair. Her eyes open. Meet mine. There's hope in those green eyes.

Undo the forehead strap. She smiles at me around the bit, and it makes my heart sing. The way she made my heart sing yesterday when she recognized me. And then she broke my fucking heart when she recoiled away from me. Makes me frown. Her smile slips.

Ah well. We'll have a chat about that once we're outta here. More important things. "Here's the deal," I say, stroking that soft cheek. "I'll take out the bit, let you up for a while." Her smile falters a little more. "One condition." Smile goes away. "I'll let you up if you promise me you won't give me shit when it's time to strap you down again."

She's staring at me in a way I don't like. "Promised Toombs I'd take care of you. You're gonna have another seizure. You need to be strapped down for it. Don't wanna deal with shit when it comes time. We got a deal?"

She blinks rapidly, tries to talk through the bit. Frustration arcs across her face. I wait politely, stroking her face, her hair. Finally, she nods, a small, tight thing.

"Good girl," I whisper. I unstrap the bit. She starts working her tongue and jaw. "Don't try to talk. Sip this." I lift up her shoulders, slip a straw between her lips. That look of frustration goes across her again, but she takes a big drink, then another. I take it from her, put it on the table.

She's pulling against the straps. Start with her ankles again. Restrain the urge to tickle her bare feet. Unbuckle them slowly, give them a squeeze, move up to the thigh strap. Restrain the urge to finger her. Undo the straps from her wrists, help her sit up. Enjoy pressing my fingers against that soft skin as I do. She seems to figure out all of a sudden that she's naked. Pulls the blanket around herself like it's gonna help.

Hand her a glass of water. She drinks it down, hands it back, and starts going after the needle in her arm. "Let me." Makes her frustrated again, but she lets me do it. Then she swings her legs off the side of the bed, stands unsteadily. "Hey," I say. Where you goin'?"

"Gotta pee," she croaks. She grabs the blanket off the bed, stumbles towards the head. I follow her. Help her get the blanket wrapped around her. She don't seem grateful.

She pisses for a long time. When it finally stops, she seems to slump. "How do you feel?" I ask her. Make my voice gentle.

Those green eyes flick up to me, then away. "Sore. Squashed. Like a walrus sat on me. Did one?" Her voice is rough. I shake my head, fill a glass of water, hand it to her. She drinks it down, hands it back. "Fine," she says, her voice a little smoother. "Just – bad dreams."

I nod. "Been havin' 'em too," I say. Her eyes lock on mine for an instant. She blinks and looks away.

I am-" She stops again. Looks around the bathroom. Looks helpless. "Where are my clothes?"

"Refresher," I say. "I found you some other stuff that might fit."

She nods, lurches to her feet. "Thank you. I'm gonna shower."

"Smart." I say. Her eyes flick across me again. She gives me another small nod, heads for the tub. Turns the water on, puts her hand under it. It's red and metallic smelling.

"You can go," she says, curtly. "I got this."

"No," I say, using the gentle voice. "If you have another seizure, you could hurt yourself.

"I'll take the risk."

"Don't make this hard, Jack," I say, letting a little bit of the real me creep in.

"Oh, I'm the one making this hard?" she snaps, her voice rough again. Like she's trying not to cry. She rubs her face, leaving a rusty red smear across it. "Don't put this on me. I didn't start any of this." I just look at her. She seems to deflate. "Might be moot anyway. I'm not showering in this."

"Give it a minute," I say. "Doc didn't have a chance to use the equipment."

Her eyes lock on mine again. "Because you killed him. For me."

One of the many. "Yeah."

"Jesus," she says. The room is warming up. Feels nice in all this cold. She seems to make a decision. Turns to the shower. Squares her shoulder. Drops the blanket, giving me a nice view of her butt. Steps into the water, pulling the curtain tight behind her.

I sit on the toilet, pull off my boots. Set them down softly. Strip off my clothes, move the shower curtain with one finger. She's standing in the water, eyes closed, looking like she's trying not to cry. The water hardly looks bloody at all any more. I watch her for a long time, the water streaming down her face, her breasts, her belly, her sweet, sweet cunt. My dick feels hot and heavy.

Her eyes open, staring straight ahead. I'm in her peripheral vision; she knows I'm oogling. After too long, she turns to look at me. There's a look of resignation in those eyes that I will hate if I think about it too long. Then her gaze skates up and down my body. I know from that certain look in her eye she likes what she sees, even if she's mad at it. Then her eyes go to the cut on my arm and stop on it, fixedly. Fuck this. I step into the shower behind her.