A/N:
My deepest and most sincere thanks to everyone who reviewed.
Sxevlbtch, GenocideWolf, , librarywitch, Aireon Maris, Mstrentreznor, Dericof Diname, JadeSea, Serenitie1, Ashi-Eiketsu, SusanMarieS, pyrobabe7713, forestreject, Rachet, Amythest246, Elliesmeow, Bianca, ArtLightLove, Sabrina1204, ZenRyu, NightStar28, Surtur676767, Alexydra, Sere011, Rianeliza, Dessel Ordo, & Hidden Relvance
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You guys are exceptional. Much Love. Seriously.
Thug, for once more holding my hand while I cried and moaned and threw melodramatic fits, you are the whetstone to my shiv, a bazillion and one thank yous.
*Standard disclaimers apply. Please don't sue.*
This Interlude picks up immediately after the close of War Stories.
*T*F*C*
Interlude 10- Of War and Love
Ariel
Five miles south of Ariel City
The corners of Four's lips twitched downward almost imperceptibly as his fingers moved deftly across the holographic keyboard. Directly to his left, his counterpart, Six, wore a startlingly similar expression as he worked his own screens. "There's nothing left."
Six made a sound in the back of his throat; a slight rumble of dissatisfaction. "The data banks have been completely wiped."
"Recovery?" Four questioned.
"Not possible. The system has been completely corrupted. There are traces of fragmented data suggesting a viral upload."
"Manual?"
"Not likely." Six answered somewhat absently as he tried to bring up another file location only to be completely shutdown as his screen fizzled and died. "Nav records have been destroyed completely."
"The Alliance is displeased with The Company's progress. The warrants on the Tams are being declassified in the next forty-eight hours. The Merc Guilds will have full access." The distaste in Four's voice was more than apparent.
"We cannot allow The Company to be exposed in such a way." Six stated firmly.
"Recovery in the next forty-eight hours is not possible. Twelve and Nine are fortunate they are dead. Their incompetence should not have been allowed to continue. Termination protocol should have been executed immediately upon E-7's escape." Four's displeasure was more than evident.
"We will assume that the Subject has completed the mission for us?"
"I believe we are beyond assumption at this point, Six. This is unfortunate." Four's minimal expression mirrored that of his comrade's. "The destruction of their computer databases, as well as themselves, can only signify that the Subject's cognitive, emotional, and volitional responses are stabilizing. To effectively neutralize both our Agents, as well as all of their tracking records, displays an unprecedented amount of conscious control. She is more of a threat than originally perceived."
"Such progress should not be possible."
"Dr. Tam." Four mused. "He is an important variable. The Subject was unable to facilitate her own escape until his assistance."
"You believe the Subject and Dr. Tam are receiving help?"
"It would be unwise to discard the possibility." Four stood up from the console he was seated at and straightened the lapels of his suit coat. "We will allow the bounties to serve their purpose and flush them out. The Merc Guilds are populated by ill-educated and underfunded men. They can have no hope of a successful capture. A confrontation however, will allow us to locate our quarry as well as assess her combat ability. We will begin to plan from there."
"We could implement the Subject's recall protocol." Six suggested.
"There is a reason Twelve and Nine did not." Four countered quickly, his tone suggested he held knowledge his counterpart did not. "They were only saved from immediate termination due to their extensive knowledge of the Subject. Not all information was released to The Alliance; nor was all of it stored in the Academy's mainframe. Subject E-7's files fall under the highest of Company classifications."
Six actually looked mildly startled by the information. "I trust you have managed to obtain this information?"
Four's lips twisted into what could be vaguely considered a smile; there was something underlying it which was so deeply disconcerting it could however never truly be counted as such. It was the extent of his answer.
"Please, do share." Six encouraged as he swiveled in his chair.
"The recall implantation was never completed. Testing on the Subject was halted due to unforeseen complications."
"Unforeseen?"
"The removal of the Subject's amygdala, as well as the subsequent experimentation on her anterior cingulate cortex, caused the activation of latent psychic abilities. Subject E-7 is both telepathic and empathic; precognitive abilities were unstable as of her escape. It was noted that the probable cause for the complications regarding the subliminal programming was a direct result of her psychic abilities. Subliminal suggestion is triggered directly by emotional memory; fight-or-flight." Four paused a moment to allow his gaze to drift out the windshield of the craft and into the quickly darkening skies of Ariel. "The removal of her amydgala should have negated the effects of an emotional reaction to subliminal suggestion and activated her cognitive mind to complete the mission."
"Should have?"
"E-7's telepathic and empathic abilities, alongside her own hardwired survival programming, allow her to function beyond the immediate command to determine the survival logistics of either course of action. In other words, she does not respond blindly to the commands as intended. Her mind processes the intent of the command and the long-term consequences as it relates to her survival."
"The subliminal suggestion gives her control?"
"Partially. During the initial testing, when recalled back to her controllers, the Subject reacted violently and use of the verbal shutdown codes was necessary. Only four tests were conducted; resulting in the deaths of nine lab technicians."
"The lab technicians held the memories of previous testing subjects." Six rightly assumed.
"Subject E-7 has thus far been the only test subject to survive the process. Staying within the facility or returning to her controllers was a direct conflict to her survival programming. Each controlled experiment resulted in an escape attempt."
"If triggering a broad Wave leads to a violent outburst, we will find her all the sooner. I fail to see the issue."
"That was not the only complication," Four continued, "When controlled cognitively, the decision to fight-or-flee is made based on logic and experience; not an immediate emotional response. The Subject needs to first decide whether or not she had the skill to fight or the means to flee. For this, the subject would need to access stored information to determine her capability. Due to E-7's inability to control her telepathy and empathy, the emotional climate of her environment determined the memories and information which were accessed."
"I still fail to see the issue."
"Subject E-7 has been stripped of the ability to filter or block information. She receives even without conscious awareness. Her reaction to the broad Wave is not our concern. The memories which surface during the trigger are. As of now, they are buried deeply under layers of psychosis created by her cognitive mind's inability to process the emotional information she is subconsciously receiving at all times. The keeping of secrets is our sole priority. There is no way of knowing whether or not the Subject retains the memories accessed after the trigger. The Subject, while in custody, had been in the presence of high ranking officials on both The Company and The Alliance sides; yet another security breach in regards to the Subject. Their minds were completely accessed. There is no way of predicting which memories, and what information, she will access in respond to the suggestion."
"It seems their enthusiasm has comprised their reasoning. This cannot be allowed."
"Live capture is their highest priority."
"Their?"
"Above and beyond our superiors, we have dedicated ourselves to the progression of a better world. A world without sin and pain. Their continued obsession with the Subject has clouded their judgment. Subject E-7 was a failure on all levels. The subliminal suggestion was meant to both recall her as well as communicate vital mission details; thereby allowing the Subject to work on a controlled independent level and negating the risk of connecting her to The Company or any government agency in the event of failure or capture. The Subject was to retain no conscious knowledge of her purpose. The Company experimentation has destroyed all possibility of this. She no longer serves a purpose. We will act in the best interest of The Company and our own survival. If The Company is brought down, so are we."
"They have become prideful."
"They have become greedy." Four added.
"This cannot be tolerated." Six concluded with conviction.
"The entire retrieval mission has been comprised. Subject E-7 is now actively aware she is being pursued. Live capture is not only ill-advised but also improbable. Planning and execution must be flawless. To defy The Company is, however, grounds for immediate termination regardless of whether we could viably make it appear as though it was unavoidable."
"Are you suggesting we allow the Merc Guilds to actively pursue?"
"We allow them to pursue. We allow them to fail. As Subject E-7's kill rate rises, the Merc Guilds will begin seeking blood. They do not take kindly to their own kind being killed. They will begin to offer up their own bounties. They will act irrationally. Information will no doubt turn completely public."
"We allow her to embarrass The Company?"
"And we give them no other choice than to activate a termination order."
"Retrieval of her brain is the only true necessity." Six mused. "Though it would encourage a reactivation of the research program. There must be nothing left from which to withdraw even the smallest of DNA samples."
"We wait for the termination order; allowing the Merc Guilds to track her for us. Once the order has been given, we will take her out in space. On the ground, the possibility for escape is too high. In space, she has only her craft or the vacuum."
"Either way she dies."
"As does all hope of reinstating the program. The Company will not risk the investment again."
"It must be flawless."
"And it shall."
*T*F*C*
Serenity
River followed quietly behind Mal. The fingers of her right hand trailed along the stairwell wall. The captain's mind was a tempest; conflicting emotions warred each other as he struggled to put form to his thoughts. There was a jaggedness to his mind courtesy of the physical pain of his body and, with each one of his labored breaths, the edges pulsated slightly.
"His guilt is unfounded." River finally broke the silence as they reached the mess.
"I had no right trying to call you."
"Would have felt it regardless. She was prepared, at least in this way."
Mal arched a brow at her; not quite catching her meaning.
River chewed at her bottom lip as she sorted through her own thoughts; choosing carefully which ones to turn into words. "Think of it like a cord." She pointed first to her frontal bone and then leaned up on her tip-toes to tap his own. "When his cerebral activity ceased, she felt the echo. His voice joined The Flow. She is sorry she did not see. Cognitive consciousness comes with a price."
"You ain't tellin' me... you're blamin' yourself for this?" Mal asked incredulously.
"She should have seen. Selfish sacrifice for lucidity." She cringed away from the captain's sudden spike of rage but made no move to leave the room. She deserved his anger. Had she been able to see, Riddick would not have been in danger; Wash and the Captain would not have been tortured.
"Feng kuang de shi bushi ye gi yu chun de jie kou (crazy is not an excuse for stupid)." Mal snapped quietly. "Ain't none of this your fault, River. I was the one that turned the job on Niska. Anybody gonna shoulder the weight of this it's gonna be me. Dong ma?" Mal was seething but his anger had nothing to do with River; it was self-directed. "My mistakes. Not yours."
"Should have seen." She shook her head slowly.
"When you could see, all ya ever went on about was how you weren't meant to. Now ya can't and you're tellin' me you should have."
"The hypocrisy is not lost on her." She sighed as she toyed with a braid.
Mal limped slightly over to the table and dropped into his usual chair at the head. "You wanna talk 'bout things people should have seen, let's talk on the fact I knew Niska wasn't gonna let this drop. I was the one that set the deal on Ezra even though I knew his space station was here. I walked right into that trap. Blame falls anywhere, it falls on me."
"Inconsequential." River dismissed him. The man was dead now by her hand. She repressed the urge to shudder. It had been justifiable. The man was a monster. A monster that cut and sliced and poked and fed off of screams as he searched for the Dao hidden within.
"You killed him, didn't you, Bit?" Mal asked quietly.
"He took what did not belong to him." The captain was momentarily taken aback by the sudden darkness which flashed into her eyes. For the briefest of moments, he saw someone other than River sitting next to him at the table. "He took what was hers. This was unacceptable."
"So we're yours then?" Mal answered with a slight smirk; looking to ease the tension in the air which had spiked to an almost palpable level.
"You would have come for her."
"Nothing in the 'Verse woulda stopped us." Mal answered without hesitation.
"Family." River's posture softened, her tone eased and the tension in the room subsided. "'This is what we got. This ship. This crew. And the Black. That big beautiful sky beyond the sky.'" She quoted him back to himself and the slight smirk he had been wearing turned into a full blown grin.
"Speakin' of that big beautiful Black; captain's gettin' itchy sittin' on this dust rock. Whaddya say we fire our girl up and get back where we belong?" He pushed himself up from the table with a groan and jerked his head toward the bridge.
"He has been electrocuted, stabbed, burned; he joined The Flow, escaped The Current; was beaten, strangled-,"
"Yeah-," Mal cut her off with a grimace, "-I was there."
"Rest is the recommended activity. Flying, which requires mental calculation and focus, is not." River scolded him.
"Well, that's why my psychic is coming up to help." Mal shrugged. "Captain passes out; she'll make sure I don't kill the lot of us."
"She is not a pilot." River pointed out.
"Yeah but you are a gorram genius or so I'm told. I'm sure you'll be fine. 'Sides, I go out, just pluck it from my head." He shrugged again.
"Wash's would be preferable." River giggled.
Mal snorted. "You wanna fly or not, Bit?"
"The captain is more than adequate." River amended quickly.
"Don't believe you for a second, girl." Mal chuckled even though the action hurt somewhat as he headed down the foredeck hall. He dropped into the pilot's chair and his hands slid over the controls reverently. There had been a moment where he had thought he would never feel her again. "Been a long day." He sighed more to himself than River; who had seated herself neatly in the copilot's chair as he began the ignition sequence.
"There will be longer still." River's answer came on reflex; she was unaware of it as she studied the controls. Her eyes glazed and her head tilted to the left slightly. Mal had turned to reply but something about her posture caused him to hold his tongue. It was with no small amount of quiet fascination that he watched River mumble to herself as her fingers danced along the switches and controls. She pressed nothing, her fingers merely gracing over the warm metal, as her mind analyzed and broke down the secrets of the Mother's wings. Abruptly her eyes cleared and she straightened; a small smile tugging at the corners of her lips. "Day is a vestigial mode of time measurement based on solar cycles. Not applicable. Only night; only darkness in the Black." She spoke softly as she looked up at him.
Mal frowned slightly. "You sayin' you'd rather keep to ground?"
River shook her head. "Not meant to walk into the light. Not anymore."
Mal felt her words echo in the core of his being. "During the Battle of Serenity-," the captain began slowly, choosing the words for his memory carefully as he completed the ignition sequence, "-those first few days we thought we had 'em; we thought we'd run them right off-world. We needed Hera. It was gonna turn the war back in our favor." He paused and inhaled deeply. "Days turned to weeks; sixteen brigades turned into ten and then five. Air tanks fell out of the gorram sky." Mal couldn't remember ever talking about the Battle of Serenity with anyone other than Zoe and even those conversations were short and stilted. "I believed in an all-powerful and mighty man on high in those days. May not be any atheists in foxholes but, at the end of a war, you'll find plenty. Lost alotta men then, but it was somethin' you accepted. You moved on. After the ceasefire though, the dyin' never stopped. It's those ones I can't get out of my head." Mal physically shook himself; he had a point when he had started talking but somehow it had gotten lost as the words spilled off his tongue. He pressed forward on the controls and with a slight shudder Serenity left the golden sands of Ezra far behind. He didn't speak again until they had broken atmo. "I ain't the man I was before the War; there's no goin' back to that man. He died somewhere on Hera, in a blood soaked trench. I suppose it ain't much different for you, Little Bit."
"There is no going back. Only forward." River said sadly, the smile which had only barely graced her face dissipated quickly.
"Then forward it is, Little Bit. You game?" He flashed her the trademark Serenity-smirk, shaking off his own tormented memories.
"Are you?" She quirked an eyebrow.
"Darlin'-," Mal drawled out, "-it's what I do."
*T*F*C*
Book sat alone in his dorm, a broken down handgun in front of him as he methodically stripped and cleaned each one of its pieces. He had forgotten how soothing the familiar motions could be. He had crossed a line tonight; one he had sworn he would never cross again. He could have chosen to fire nonlethal shots but he hadn't. He had been angry. He had been enraged when Simon had opened the cloth handkerchief to reveal the captain's ear. The brutality of it had angered him; the mindlessness of it all. He was surprised to find that he held no regrets on what he had done. There was no guilt. There was no shame or remorse; only satisfaction that they had succeeded.
It disturbed him that he should feel nothing for the lives that had been taken. He had prayed over and buried the bodies of the bandits in Ridings West and yet he felt nothing for the corpses they had left behind on the complex. Perhaps it had been the look in River's eyes as she spun out from cover to clear the hall; perhaps it had been the condition of the captain as Zoe and Wash had hauled him back on board; either way, he realized the reasoning was inconsequential. He was a Shepherd; he had done what was needed to protect his flock. He had nothing to feel guilty over.
It was, however his hesitation to once more set aside the gleaming metal and replace it with his Bible which troubled him. Violence had been the way of life on Sigma Three. It had been his desire to leave it all behind him that had driven him to seek refuge among the brothers of the Abbey. Riddick's words regarding the pieces of the story they had left out haunted him.
"And killing will undo those sins?" He had challenged.
"No, but it might let you live long enough to."
He had decided weeks ago that God had given him this flock for a reason. Was that the reason? Could redemption be found by protecting River? The pain in her eyes seemed to echo the thousands of unheard voices on Sigma Three. A daily reminder of the sins he had both committed and stood aside to allow to be committed. Perhaps this was his penance; a chance to atone. A chance to stand for a cause rather than hide from the darkness of his past. He slid the last piece of his gun back into place and tucked it into his waistband, pulling his shirt out to cover it.
X
"You've been gone for four days, Riddick."
"I can count." The man replied easily as he rolled a blade across his hand. He flipped it once before catching it and sliding it back into his boot.
"Goddamnit, Riddick!" Derrial snapped as his fist hit the table. "Riker has been missing for three of those four days and yet you stroll in here without a gorram care in the fucking 'Verse!"
Riddick arched a brow as a smirk edged across his lips. He didn't bother to reply.
"I know about Rhea."
A snarl broke free from his smirk as Riddick's body tensed. "I'd choose my next words real careful-like if I was you, old man."
"Fuck you, Riddick." The Commander spat out. "Remember who the gorram hell you're talking to, boy. One word from me and you'll spend the rest of your shit life rotting away in Slam. I'd check my tone if I were you."
"That a threat, Commander?"
"No, Riddick." The older man dropped into a chair across from his underling. "It's a warning. You crossed a line."
"Got any proof?" The soldier smirked once more.
"I don't care if you're innocent or guilty!" He barked, losing control of his temper once more.
"We're all guilty here." Riddick rumbled darkly. "Residential D-11? That wasn't a fucking uprising; that was a fucking bloodbath. And for what, Derrial? For fuck's sake, we mowed those people down and why? Cause they were fucking starving to death and got sick of begging for scraps. How many women can you hear screaming at night? How many kids do you watch march into those mines every morning?"
"Not our concern, Riddick. We do the job we're paid to do. You're a fucking merc, not a soldier. A point you're real keen to forget. We're not Alliance. We're not government. We're fucking Company."
"Wasn't the package they sold me on."
"What did you expect?" His Commander barked back harshly, shoving his chair out from behind him as he rose.
"I was fifteen. What the fuck was I supposed to expect?" He growled back, rising from his chair as well. He stood a full head taller than his superior and, to the older man's credit, he did not flinch away.
"Don't play that card with me, Riddick. I know you. You like this life. You were born with a hard-on for this shit."
Riddick moved with blinding speed and the Commander found himself pinned against the wall before he had time register the movement. "I am not a fucking rapist! I am not a fucking murderer! Fuck you, Adams. Fuck you!" He snarled, his face a mere handful of inches away from the older man's. "Three pounds of pressure, all it takes to crush a windpipe." His voice was a graveled whisper, the hiss of it reminiscent of the Spitfires they hunted. To illustrate his point, he tightened his hold. "I'm done. I'm out." Abruptly, he released his grip and stepped back.
His Commander did not collapse against the ground as Riddick had expected; instead, he found himself with a gun leveled straight at his head. "You put your hands on me again, boy, and I will end you." He threatened.
Riddick smirked darkly and stepped forward, forcing the gun flush against his forehead. "Do it. Ghost me, muthafucka'. "
Derrial lowered his weapon. "I don't like to waste resources." He replied evenly.
"Not a resource anymore, old man, or are you deaf? I said I was out."
"There's no leaving The Company, Riddick." The tone and demeanor of the older man changed significantly as he dropped back into a chair, gun in hand. "Don't you think I've tried? That's how I ended up here. Only way out is death; they leave that out in the contracts. You try to take the out and you'll be the first one down, I promise you, son. They have more power and money than you can imagine. You signed your name on that contract. They own you, Riddick. They own all of us. They can make you disappear just as easily as they make the miners here disappear. Standing against them is signing your own death warrant."
"I'll bring them down with me then." Riddick rumbled darkly. The corner's of his lips twitched as he savored the fresh memory of Riker's screams. The smell of his blood; the heat that spilled from the freshly gutted body... not that there had been much left to gut by the time he had gotten around to it. He'd even made a new Spitfire friend by feeding him the scrapes left behind.
"What are you talking about, Riddick?"
"Give me some time to get some hard copy. I need your comm. codes to get the signal off-world."
"You can't bring them down, Riddick."
"Have you been listening? I. Don't. Give. A. Shit."
"She meant that much to you?" He asked quietly.
"Don't you fucking speak her name to me, old man. You ain't worthy of the sound coming off your lips." Riddick growled.
"I wasn't always this man, Riddick." Derrial said, defeated. He hadn't been; too many years of looking the other way and turning his cheek had made him jaded and bitter. He'd bought the better world gou shi hook, line and sinker, only to realize it wasn't anything but an ugly little lie."Get me something concrete. I'll get you and the evidence off-world."
"You could come with me, Derrial." Riddick offered. "You stay and they'll eventually figure who helped me."
"I can't get the both of us off-world."
"Signing your own death warrant, old man."
"And maybe it will undo some of my own sins. I'm an old man, Riddick, perhaps my last act should be a good one."
X
"Know you're out there, Shepherd." The words rolled lazily past Riddick's lips.
"Even drugged, there's no sneaking up on you, is there?" Book said as he stepped into the Infirmary.
"Can smell your hair grease from across the ship." The convict smirked though his eyes remained closed. "Might as well say whatever it is you came to say."
"And what makes you think I have anything to say?"
"Seems like the whole ship has something on their minds tonight. River's been through here; Mal, Jayne, now you. Who woulda thought? I get shot up and the whole ship goes all pansy-like on me."
"I believe that's the first time that word has ever been used to describe me." Book said with a slight edge of amusement in his tone.
"You went all Godly on me." Riddick rumbled.
"Men change."
"Do they?" Riddick arched a brow and cracked one eye open. "Keep walkin' if you're looking to save me, preacher-man. Not enough drugs in the 'Verse to get me to buy into that gou shi (crap)."
"I didn't come here to preach." Book said tiredly as he took the stool next to Riddick's bed.
"Why did you come?" Riddick asked curiously.
"When you look at her, do you see Rhea or do you see her, River?"
The snarl that escaped Riddick couldn't be controlled. "I warned you once about saying her name." The fuzziness in his head due to the drugs dissipated instantly. "And you will keep that name to yourself or I swear to shit, old man, it will be the last sound that ever leaves your fucking lips. You have no fucking idea what you're talking about." He barked. "River ain't Rhea. Rhea's dead. Gone. Fucking halfway to dust by now. You fucking leave her there."
"My apologies." Book nodded his head slightly.
"Fuck you." Riddick growled and, for the briefest of moments, Book could have sworn the man's eyes flashed a brilliant cerulean.
"I didn't come here to provoke you, Riddick." Book said calmly as he removed the gun from his waistband and held in out in front of him.
"You come here to shoot me?" Riddick asked with a tilt of humor returning to his voice.
"I don't like to waste resources." The preacher replied, his eyes never leaving his gun.
"Seems like you playing at being a man of God is a hell of a waste to me." Riddick rumbled, his curiosity now thoroughly spiked. The preacher did not respond immediately and Riddick took the opportunity to see just how far he could push it. "Feels good, doesn't it?" The convict's chin jerked to the weapon in the shepherd's hands when the older man looked up. "How long has it been? Once told me I had a hard-on for this life; could say the same about you."
"Celibacy has many forms." Book mused idly. "I suppose it says something that this gun feels more right in my hands than a Bible ever did."
"We are what we are, preacher-man." Riddick rumbled as he leaned back against the bed, closing his eyes once more. "Can't fight your nature."
"You would be the expert on that, wouldn't you?"
Riddick smirked, "Maybe I am; or maybe I'm just as fucked in the head as River." He shrugged easily.
"They'll never stop coming."
"You wanna tell me something I don't know?" He arched a brow though his eyes remained close. "You saw her tonight." His voice took on a tone of reverence. "She showed me." He opened his eyes. "Through that thing with our heads. Fucking beautiful." He left out the fact she had been kissing him when she did it; that was just none of the shepherd's gorram business.
"You are aware she fires with her eyes closed."
"Fights in the dark." Riddick smirked darkly. "My kind of woman."
"That wasn't River fighting." Book said firmly. "I don't know what she showed you but you didn't see the look in her eyes."
Riddick leveled his gaze on Book. The smirk on his face deepened. "You're wrong." He said smugly. The automatic timer on his IV line beeped and the convict relaxed as a fresh wave of painkillers washed through his veins. "They have no idea what they unleashed when they fucked with her. Pay attention, old man, 'cause real soon my girl is going to show them."
Book did not remark on the prideful tone of his voice, nor the pronoun he had placed before the word girl.
"And it's going to be a hell of a show." The convict chuckled darkly.
"When the time comes, Riddick, I'll be there."
"Welcome back, Commander." Riddick replied somewhat smugly.
"No, Riddick. That man is never coming back." Book corrected him, as he rose and headed back towards his bunk.
"He already is." Riddick rumbled quietly to himself as he listened to the Shepherd's retreating footsteps.
*T*F*C*
