Chapter 9

Quick Note: So I just finished another story, it needs editing but I feel like I have some breathing room now. I'm going to start posting this weekly on Wednesdays. Halfway through the week...I don't know about you but I always need a pick-me-up. And now...on with the story.

Previously…Back to those vague tones that still sounded like her, "Liberator and challenger. Furya's last hope. Part of a prophecy. Could be Ruler of World shakers. Now I am become Death, destroyer of worlds. Ulysses transformed into Hades. If he remains blind. There is so much he will do before he returns. If he chooses to return at all. The Underworld is a sybaritic place of pleasure and pain and order." She tilted her head looking almost serpentine, eyelids drooping sensually, her voice full of promise, "Perhaps the breeder would do it…if somebody just asked him… It is a rare offer. A visit inside Necropolis. Would you like to see me there?"

"And if I don't come back?" He tilted his head curiously; he'd heard warnings before but none of them gave him choices. "What happens then?" He wasn't prepared for her to stare at him and nothing at the same time and speak in his own cadence and tones.

"Don't know how many times I been crossed off the list and left for dead. Guess when it first happens the day you were born... You're gonna lose count. So, this ain't nothin' new..." River paused, took a breath and continued, "There are bad days...And then there are legendary bad days. This was shaping up to be one of those." She tilted her head, as if considering a question before she spoke again. Eerie, to hear his own accent coming out of her mouth, such a foreign rhythm to the words, "It's always the punch you don't see comin' that puts you down. But why didn't I see it? Of course they're gonna try to kill me; death is what they do for a living."

Death is what they do for a living, that…didn't sound like anything he'd come across before. Mercs were all about a payday. This sounded like a bunch of crazies. River hadn't stopped though, and he frowned at what she said next, "So the question ain't 'what happened'. The question is... 'What happened to me...?' How'd they get so close? How'd I let 'em blindside me like that?"

River's eyes met his, still seeing something other than him, or maybe she saw him here and in some possible future as she spoke in his unique phrasing, "Yet again…someone was trying to play me...So yet again...we play for blood... Somewhere along the way, I lost a step...I got sloppy. Dulled my own edge. Maybe I went and did the worst crime of all...I got civilized."

He really didn't care for the sound of that, somehow he'd get so complacent, so lazy that he'd be taken off guard? That he could not abide.

"How long has he lived without niceties, without refuge," River seemed more present, looking at him, eyes focused now. "What will comfort, and wine and women do to the Animal? Luxury and excess. Order and absolutes. Will he commit the worst crime of all?"

Becoming civilized… That question had occurred to him more than once over the years. If he could stop running, would he become someone, something else? It was a choice he'd have to make when he hit the crossroads. "And what will happen here, if I don't come back?"

"Betrayal even in seeming triumph," She gave him a sad smile. "Rescue and regret. Work, training, departures. Mercs. Small changes and large. Traps eluded and sprung upon them. The leaf upon the wind, blown brown with autumn, crushed under boot heels, blood, screams and spears."

Dark eyes grew distant, "This isn't a palms-up military run, Mal. No reports broad waved, no warrants... much as they want her, they want her hid. That means Closed File. They'll come at you sideways. It's how they think: sideways. It's how they move. Sidle up and smile, hit you where you're weak. Sorta man they're like to send believes hard. Kills and never asks why." Those words…sounded more like Book than anyone.

She kept going, her voice once again her own, "Death, loss, pain and rage." Slender shoulders lifted in an elegant shrug. "Much that would happen should he be here. He is the fulcrum; his choices will tip the balance. What will happen should he not be on Serenity to help turn the tide? How will events change, if he returns?"

He nodded his understanding and took a deep breath. Jack had depended on him, looked up to him, a nebulous easily damaged worship as changeable as her young self. For a time he'd had people depend on him, trust him, to a point, on that hellish planet during the eclipse. Short-lived and sweet as it had been, he'd tried to rejoin the human race. Maybe that had led to this. Taking an apprentice. He hoped she'd be all right, unfamiliar sensation twisted in his chest. Hope was the mother of all misery. And twin to defiance.

"Hope has two beautiful daughters; their names are Anger and Courage. Anger at the way things are, and Courage to see that they do not remain as they are. She will remember," River nodded solemnly. "If he will also." Her eyes glanced towards the cargo bay and she talked as if Mal had put the words in her mouth, "I look to hear the tromp of their boots at any moment."

He nodded slowly. "Don't trust Cobb, even if Mal does," He warned after he put her in his bunk, removing his shivs one by one except the blade sheathed in his belt, hidden at the small of his back. "Anything in here you want, it's yours. Can't take it with me anyway. And stay put until you hear Serenity coming to life again. No sense giving the mercs two for the price of one."

She nodded, "She will put his teaching to good use."

"Good." He looked at her thoughtfully, "Guess when I see you again you'll be grown up."

"To be hoped," She touched his jaw with cool fingertips, eyes dark and knowing. "If he cannot make peace with Jack… Tell the Purifier, that Kyra is important. Keep her at your side. Do not let her go. If she leaves your side…she will die."

He still didn't know her as well as he wanted to, everything he'd learned was colored by the damage that damn school had done to her. But he knew when she was seeing something beyond his knowledge. He knew the sound of a Seer's prophecy when he heard it. He'd be a fool to not use the knowledge and he was no one's fool. "River." He looked at her and took a deep breath before he nodded. "I'll remember." He pressed his lips to her forehead, breathed in her scent, a final reassurance that he didn't want to abandon her, his little apprentice. He would go with the mercs to keep this boat safe, to keep her sanctuary (and his) whole.

He'd been looking forward to teaching her, to seeing her get her mind back, to sparring with her as an equal, or as equal as anyone ever got to him. He'd been curious as hell about what she'd be like as a moody teenager. Would she be screechy and petulant? Moody and quiet? He'd wanted to see her as an adult, if that possessiveness of hers would become something more. That would teach him to count on the future.

"He must go," She looked in the direction of the cargo bay. "They come. Heavy boots."

"Stay here." He repeated his order. "Until Serenity is sailing, or your brother comes."

River nodded and sat on his bunk, "She will abide until the engines are turning or Simon comes for her. Zhēn tā mā yào mìng. Zhù yì."

"Good girl." He gave her a half grin and hurried out of the bunk, locking it behind him. She'd be able to undo that but no one else would be able to get in.

A quick check from the bridge and oh yeah…that was definitely a merc ship. He could feel the merc boat docking with Serenity and jumped from the mid deck catwalks to the cargo deck, landing a few feet from Zoë. To her credit, she didn't startle, just kept checking her gun.

"You know anything else about this?" She slanted a calm glance at him.

"Like I told you, I know a merc boat when I see one," Riddick shrugged. His voice low enough that Cobb wouldn't hear he explained where River was and what he'd told her to do. "They see me…price on my head is big enough that they won't look any farther. Whatever you do, don't let Cobb mention River and Simon. And tell Mal, when I come back, might have my little sister with me. Hope he'll be okay with it."

"We're not just turning you over," Zoë shook her head and Wash nodded his agreement with his wife.

"They'll kill every one of you," He looked at Book. "Tell her."

"I'm afraid he's right," The Shepherd's voice, matter of fact and rueful, explained quietly. "Guild mercenaries occupy a unique caste in regard to the law. Though they are limited in some respects…in others…I'm afraid that Riddick is correct. When retrieving a fugitive, any…casualties left behind are assumed to have impeded them in their duty."

"They kill without remorse," Riddick let his words fall like rocks. "You'll have to let them take me." He smirked at Cobb, "And they won't split any bounty with you. You're not Guild. You're nothing to them."

"Yeah, an' you're less than nothin'," Cobb sneered back.

"Maybe," Riddick stared at him. "But they haven't made a Slam that could hold me yet. If I hear that you've been beating on little girls again, I will make you beg for death before I drink your blood from a boot." The Wrath flared under his shirt, underscoring his words before he forced it down.

Cobb shifted uneasily but sneered at him again to cover his unwilling discomfort, blustering, "You're gonna die in a Triple Max Slam."

He got an evil smile in return, "Every slam they've put me in, I've escaped. You really want to chance being wrong?"

The comms crackled to life, "Firefly transport Serenity. This is the Jenny Lind, we're prepared to render aid should you need it." They weren't taking any chances, hailing once while the Walden had been attached and scaring off the other boat. Another one, likely to be sure they were still welcome visitors.

Riddick moved towards the comms and nearly smiled, "About time you boys got here. Thought we'd have to wait years. These folks need a catalyzer. Think you can cover them?" The stunned reaction at the sound of his voice told him everything he needed to know. He clicked the comms off and looked at Zoë. "They have voice recognition."

The First Mate nodded, "Wash, go and keep Inara and Kaylee away from the bay." Her dark gaze flicked over to Book, "Shepherd, I'd appreciate you standing with us." The pilot nodded and patted Riddick on the shoulder before he headed for the lounge and infirmary, shutting the lounge doors behind him.

"I'd be pleased to help," Book was holding his bible in his hands. The man held steady through damn near everything. Interesting quality in a holy man.

"I'm opening the bay doors," Riddick told them. "Should be over soon, one way or another."

He'd been right. The mercs were too pleased with the payday they'd stumbled across to press the crew on anything else. They'd provided a catalyzer, made sure Serenity was on the mend, offered to flood the ship with air, which was more than he'd expected of them, all the while half of them grinning ear to ear at the sight of him.

The process was nothing new. A punch to the face, cuffs on his wrists, shackles on his ankles and a cryo cuff slapped around his upper arm for all the good it would do them. Book and Wash had quietly restrained Kaylee and Simon when the two of them protested the punching. The Shepherd had handed Doc Simon off to Zoë and had a quiet word with a few of the mercs, explaining that the younger crew members didn't have much experience with violence and 'Rick' had kept them alive during the earlier fight. A slight exaggeration but the boss had nodded and dipped his head to Book in respect, giving the First Mate a nod.

Inara had walked forward and even the mercs could tell what she was. The woman practically screamed Companion. That elegant voice, a low throaty purr exuding sex, as she informed them that their prisoner had also kept her alive. That she was required by law to inform her Guild if she saw further abuse, due to 'Rick' giving her aid. Inara and Book, between the two of them, kept Simon and Kaylee from getting themselves killed. They made a pretty good team actually.

She and Book were the last he saw of Serenity before the airlock doors closed.

"So what slam are we takin' him to?" One of the mercs asked their boss. Toombs, same moron who'd been chasing him since the Kublai Khan. Leaving the merc on the ball of ice hadn't discouraged him. Or maybe (very likely) he was too stupid to know when to quit.

"No slam, not right away," The boss merc shook his head. "Price on his head comes outa New Mecca. Gotta deliver him there to collect."

Well he had been planning on heading to New Mecca anyway, eventually. Even if he'd rather have gone on his own terms. He'd been meaning to ask Abu why he'd broken his silence after all these years. And why put a price on his head, beyond the reward already offered for an escaped convict. Hard cash, private party. It could only be Abu.

Might as well sit back and enjoy the ride. He could always cut loose of these mercs once they got to New Mecca.

One thing he'd always loved about mercs was their dependence on their records for information. If they found it in their files it was gospel. Evidence of their own eyes…well they'd use that but they questioned it. Tried to twist it to fit what they saw in those records. So when they put him in cryo cuffs and sat him down into their prisoner cocoon he couldn't bring himself to be surprised at then being ignored.

If he wanted it to, cryo would send him to sleep. It protected his body just like it would anyone else's, from the rigors of deep space, that slightly other feeling of a ship going faster than was truly safe for humans.

And if he chose to ignore it, he could remain conscious, listen, learn, slit his eyes open slightly and see the troupe of mercenaries, five in all, going about their business, setting course for New Mecca and getting into their own cryo tubes once that was done.

It wouldn't be the first time he'd hijacked a ship while the crew of it slept. If Serenity hadn't been so welcoming he might have done the same to her. But Mal and the rest had been up front with him, even after they heard his name. It had been oddly relaxing, not tensing up when he heard someone say his name, at least aboard the boat. Dirtside was a whole other story.

So he'd sleep for a while, wake once they were close, make his move then.

She came to him in dreams, visions. She showed him vast jungles with animals larger and smaller than his own substantial frame and a sea of graves. Gravestones didn't make sense on a world where everyone had been wiped out. But he saw fields of them, across golden plains, beneath green trees, at the foot of smoke spewing mountains.

Maybe they were simply representative of his people, all those who were gone. "It is time," Shirah and enigmatical went hand in hand. "Time for you to truly Wake. Time to truly See. And Remember."

"Remember what?" He'd been a baby when Furya was destroyed.

"Remember what they took from you in ignorance, the life lost in your mind," Shirah touched his forehead with one hand, her other palm fitting into her Mark on his chest. He could see colors in his dreams, the blue light of the Wrath filling him. It washed away the memories, washed over the blank spots, written over the truth.

Another voice, no less familiar even if it was of less long-standing associations, sounded quietly from behind him, beneath the shadow of the giant trees. "Have you ever had someone…take your brain and play?" River's voice, husky, like sweet smoke drifting towards his ears.

He knew what he was, who he was, abandoned, raised in group homes, alone…

Alone.

And he had been…

Death all around him. Dust. The tromp of boots.

Strangled with his own birth cord, left in the trash, the impression of gentle hands, blood covered, holding him.

Hunger.

Murmurs. Louder voices. Warmth. A full belly.

Sterile air. Darkness and light and darkness and light…

"Found him in a trash bin. Someone had tried to choke him with his own umbilical cord."

"Any other survivors?"

"Less than a dozen women, no men. No other children that we could find. It was a tiān shā de slaughter, if you'll forgive the language sir."

"I want the full report on my desk in twelve hours. Psych evals and debriefs of the adult survivors."

"What will happen to the baby?"

"We'll arrange for foster care. Was there any indication of his family?"

"We found the remains of what might have been a family tree in the home closest to where we found him, the heading had less than half a dozen letters that were legible. I'll send you the scan."

"R, several smudged spaces, I, D, D, torn spots, smudges, C and a K…"

"We'll keep working on it, but most of the records were destroyed. We saw wall murals and tapestries, but anything with the written word had been burned or shredded."

"Work with what you have, figure the rest out later, go with Riddick as the surname until we get the rest interpreted. He'll need a first name, we'll leave that to you."

"Sir we can't take a baby into cryo and without cryo travel we're more than a decade out from the nearest terraformed world."

"Put the baby in with one of the women, the physical contact has been proven to help with age related cryo sickness, no one's figured out why yet."

"Had to be a special sort of desperate to even try it."

"They say necessity is the mother of invention."

"We don't know if he'll even survive it."

"You have your orders Lieutenant. Send your reports and commence cryo immediately after."

"Dǒng de sir."

Darkness and cold.

Blank spots.

Memories…childhood? Green and gold. Animals and trees. Running, playing…lessons and chores… Richard Baumar Riddick. Comfort and softness and gentle hands.

The same voice, 'you have your orders Lieutenant,' hard, implacable. "He's what? Six or seven? His body should be able to tolerate cryo well enough now. He survived it as a baby, this should be easier on his system. Bring him to the Alliance."

Weeping.

Cryo…so much time…more than he could track…awake and aware and trapped in a tube… He'd come out of the tube more than half crazed. Funny side effect of his body being asleep but his mind awake and aware. He'd woken up in a hospital without any memory, without any history of his world or his people, being poked and prodded, the only thing he'd known was his last name. Eventually he remembered the first and middle names he'd been given.

Military hospitals, paperwork. Years of foster-care/military training before he'd pissed someone off enough that they'd shipped him off to the Company to work as a ranger, a sweeper. Indentured work, catching the eye of someone higher up as a potential soldier and the Strikeforce Academy. The mess of the riots. Deep Storage. The Wailing Wars.

The mind compensates… fills in spaces, protects itself from anything threatening, and in a child…even a child like he'd been… The wash of memories would have been disorienting if he'd had any other recollection of those years. Strange that the blank spot in his memories hadn't ever bothered him before. Now it seemed jarring, as if he'd overlooked something obvious. Memories overwritten…like a data crystal scrubbed of information.

And the feeling that he truly did have a home somewhere. Not bombed out or completely destroyed like he'd thought. A living world with settlements and history. All he had to do was find it.

"Now you understand," Shirah told him. "Be wary, be mindful and beware those who once tried to destroy our race. Now. Wake."

It was a command; one he couldn't help but obey. Shirah's timing was damn near impeccable as they were just beginning to approach New Mecca.

In the end, it wasn't at all difficult to take over the ship. He got some static from the planetary patrol, telling him he wasn't allowed to land, or even be in their airspace. The pilot, grim-faced, gestured for him to descend, doubtless to take him into custody.

A slight nudge to the patrol ship at just the right moment sent it careening away. Of course it didn't do his ship any good either. He managed to keep from dropping into the sea, a greenish hue tinged with yellow, at least in his sight, where it met the sand and plowed into the largest dune he could find. Better to hit the sand than the water. Whoever said water was soft had been an idiot.

He looked behind him and couldn't help the dark chuckle that spilled out of him. The mercs were still asleep. He took a few minutes to program the ship into the hide mode most merc boats had and keep them in cryo for another twelve hours at least. That would give him a good head start and keep them from coming out too early now that the ship was dirtside.

Back to the brightness, everything he hated. Helion Prime and their oh-so-proud denizens generously sharing their light with the rest of the system. Holy roller hypocrites and self-righteously non-judgmental citizens. Double-dealing civilized people with smug faces and fat bellies, wallets full of cash they'd skimmed or cheated off someone ignorant or less fortunate and called legal because they'd written the laws. Wondering if Jack would be here. If he had any kind of good luck at all Jack would at least be ignorant of the crap Abu had set in motion.

He didn't have to look very hard to find Abu's house. He'd been there once before when he'd left Abu and Jack on New Mecca. It was even easier to get inside. Bio locks on the doors were all well and good but why bother when the windows on the second floor had only shutters to keep someone out. Shutters with an easily manipulated latch.

He heard Abu come home not long after he'd reached the house. Females already in the house, one in another bedroom, a child's voice from the same direction. But neither were the one he sought. There was no sign of Jack here. Nothing smelt of her. No clothing suited for a teenager, even a small one. So where the hell was she? A picture on a desk (next to another of three boys who hadn't made it off the hell planet) the only sign Abu even knew her, other than that, she might as well have not existed.

The Imam was more situationally aware than most preachers (if you didn't lump Book in with the rest). He knew when someone was in a room with him, even if he couldn't see them. Of course, Riddick sharpening a shiv on a whetstone made a pretty telling sound, even to someone who wasn't terribly observant. "I started out in the worst place I could find. And then I kept going. See, I wanted to be free, but I also wanted to be ignored." He rose and went to the mirror, satisfied the shiv was sharp enough to scrape the growth of beard and hair from the last few days off his face.

"Where?" The Imam asked as if he couldn't help himself.

"The worst place…some frozen heap," Riddick murmured. "No real name, no real sun. Scientific designations. After that, coupla Slams, ships… I was just hoping to exist in the shadows. And I did. For a while. Heard there was a price on my head from some mercs that caught up with me on another frozen rock."

He turned and looked at the Imam, "Then I got on a ship that was hit by Reavers. Another boat found it, gave me a ride, offered me a job, and I had some purpose beyond staying alive, staying free. I could actually do some good. There was someone who actually needed my help. Not to kill. She needed training. Been put through damn near as much as I had. And I thought I'd stay until she was better. Even learned a few things myself."

The Imam was frowning in concern as Riddick continued, "But someone wouldn't let me do it. Somebody couldn't leave bad enough alone. Suppose I shouldn't have been surprised. People have always been a goddamn disappointment to me."

Now Abu glanced up the stairs and Riddick knew he was worried about his wife, "She's in the shower." He walked towards the Imam, "I told one person where I might go. Trusted one man when I left this place. After what we'd been through together, I thought I could do that much. Was I wrong? Did I make a mistake?"

Abu swallowed hard, "Honest and true, I say to you there is no simple answer."

He never felt as if he moved faster, his reaction times were normal, for him, but moving the shiv from his side to press the edge against Abu's throat, shocked the other man with his speed. "Did I make," He kept his voice low, "a mistake."

It wasn't easy to unnerve Abu but the Imam's voice held a noticeable tremor as he answered, "I give you my word Riddick. As a delegate to the government of Helion Prime—" Riddick couldn't hold back the snort of disdain, "—and as a friend, that whatever has been said was meant to give us a chance, a fighting chance. Were it not for the events of the past year, events without precedent in the entire history, not only of Helion Prime but of this entire sector, things might—"

Riddick's eyes left Abu's face and slanted towards the staircase mezzanine. A bright-eyed young girl was watching both of them keenly. "Riddick?" The childish whisper was clearly awed. Funny how his name sounded more like just a name, rather than the threat people usually took it for, when it came out of a child's mouth.

Her mother came down, her hair bound up in a styling mold and put a hand on her daughter's shoulder, echoing his name in a more cautious tone. "Riddick."

So they knew him, who he was, even though they'd never met. The woman was likely in her mid-thirties, the girl around five. He stared at the woman thoughtfully before glancing at Abu, "A wife."

"Lajjun. Yes, we were married…after," Abu didn't need to explain 'after' to Riddick. They'd both been there.

Until he'd come aboard Serenity, he hadn't had the word beautiful enter his mind all that much. Once or twice, usually in reaction to some predator whose deathly ways couldn't be ignored, nature's wonders always amazed him, but people didn't inspire such reactions. The way River moved, the way she was starting to fight, her dancing, she'd brought beautiful back into his mind. This woman she was attractive in an entirely different way. She met his gaze without flinching through the nerves he could smell jangling under her skin. So she had a spine. That was something at least. She made as if to take the child from the room and he moved slightly to prevent that for the moment. "And a daughter." He looked down at the little girl thoughtfully, "Named?"

The Imam hesitated a moment, he had the air of a man trying to determine how to disarm a ticking bomb, reluctant to move for fear of setting it off. "If you have an issue with me, let it be with me alone. You have no quarrel with anyone else in this house."

Riddick looked at him and waited a moment. He could wait all day if he had to, snipers had nothing on his level of patience, "Named?"

"Ziza. Her name is Ziza," Abu finally answered.

As if the sound of her name gave her permission to speak, the little girl's questions burst out, "Did you really kill monsters? The ones that were going to hurt my father when the sun went away and nightmares came out of the darkness?"

Fuck! She was five and she knew about that? An incredulous (and likely disturbed, because really?) look at Abu got a sheepish expression in return, "Such are our bedtime stories. You know children, they wish to know everything, especially about their parents. Ziza is very mature for her age."

Riddick tucked the shiv back under his wrist, pulling it away from the Imam's throat. He noticed the man didn't, like others might, breathe a sigh of relief. Smart. The knife could reappear just as quickly as it had gone. Lajjun hustled her daughter out of the room as quickly as she could, despite the child's persistent questions. "Who did you tell?" He asked, feeling tired all of the sudden. "Who do I have to put on a slab to get this rancid payday off my head? Fucking hell… You should have kept your mouth shut Imam." He spared a thought for the fact that he should practice cursing in Chinese, he knew some of the swear words well enough to repeat.

"Events conspire," Abu had relaxed slightly since his wife and daughter weren't in the room. "Even if you looked, you wouldn't find them."

Riddick nearly smirked, "Why would I look? When you can bring them right to me?"

"It is not so easy as you think," the Imam replied as if imparting some great piece of wisdom.

He trusted so few people in his life. Serenity and her crew an anomaly, his trust in them unprecedented. He stared at the man he'd trusted (one of the first and few), the man who'd betrayed him, "Don't talk to me about what isn't easy. My whole life has been about surviving what isn't easy." He tilted his head towards the comm system on the wall, "If communications still work on this over-lit ball of dirt it's time to use them."

They waited on the balcony. The beacon that shone from Helion Prime to the other lesser worlds blocked out most of the stars. All that light, burning through the Black, trying to devour the shadows where he existed. Part of why he hated Helion Prime. They always thought they knew best, so proud of how tolerant they were. And for all their tolerance, freedom of speech, thought, religion, they still looked at him and saw an animal. Humans were like that; always wanting (needing) to feel superior to someone.

The Imam was talking, about Ancient Rome on Earth-That-Was and how when the civilization collapsed a comet was in the sky. He glanced at the man (his expression must have been especially irritated) and Abu stopped talking, "I know about Rome." He told the man flatly. "I know about Greece, Great Britain…every great civilization that got too big eventually collapsed. Until the world just ran out of time."

Abu started on about the planets that had gone dark, the Aquila system, the Coalsack planets, entire systems wiped out. Thoughtfully Riddick picked up a knife and sliced through the candle sticks as he remembered what River had told him before he left. Ruler of World shakers. "Nice edge," He murmured, and Abu made an impatient noise as if he had the right to Riddick's time and attention. More fool he.

"Have you heard anything I've said to you? Or are you always focused on—business?"

He looked over at the agitated man, "You said it's all circling the drain. The whole 'Verse."

"Yes."

For some reason his memory took him back to Serenity again. Simon had been trying to explain the point of ballet since his sister had mentioned something called Firebird. Riddick had seen River dancing in the galley, barefoot and beautiful. He hadn't really gotten it; special shoes to dance on your toes, bloody feet… No, that did not make sense to him. Doc Simon had been patient but he didn't have the words and Riddick had no real frame of reference. So they were getting (as River would say) no and where at an increasing rate of speed.

River had emerged from her dorm wearing a really weird set of shoes; elongated toes and ribbons that laced around her ankles. Her skirt was so worn and washed it fell limp around her legs to her mid-thigh. One of Simon's undershirts clung to her upper body and hips. She'd gone to the cortex and fiddled with it until some music came on. The tune had been haunting, a man's voice, vaguely recognized, with lyrics even more melancholy. She'd begun to dance, like nothing he'd ever seen, twisting, slowly spinning, dipping sways filled with love and triumph and grief. 'There's no time for us, there's no place for us, what is this thing that builds our dreams, yet slips away from us? Who wants to live forever? Who wants to live forever?' A swell of music, strings that built until another voice began… 'There's no chance for us, it's all decided for us… this world has only one sweet moment set aside for us. Who wants to live forever?'

The music and voice had continued and she'd danced for him until it was done, finally sinking to the ground as if her energy had gone and life had left her. He'd smelt the blood, tears on Simon's face and his own throat had gotten tight somehow. River had stood, moved to sit beside him and taken off her shoes, exposing bloody toes. And he'd understood ballet finally. How people could have something so amazing inside them that had nothing to do with death or killing. Beauty could mean something besides the bloody elegance of a fight to the death.

The words of that song she'd used came back to him as his gaze focused on his old 'friend' once more. 'Who wants to live forever?'

He could deceive Abu; and had no real reason to tell him the truth at this point, but he never lied to himself. This was worrying. Entire populations wiped out sounded a lot like what had happened to Furya, the dreamlike visions of his lost world, his murdered people. Even if he had only recently remembered fully, his world, his life after he'd been taken off Furya. Only now finding a kind of life that kept him sharp but still let him stay free. No matter how his thoughts flew to Jack, to Serenity and its crew or the odd frisson of anxiety that crept up his spine at the thought of the people he considered his in harm's way. Damned if he'd admit any sort of worry to the Imam.

"Had to end sometime."

Lajjun let the three men into the house and Abu nodded at him, "The one you seek is now here."

Riddick pushed the hoods off the heads of the three men one by one and stared at their faces. No one he knew, no one who would have a reason to put a price on his head for some offense he'd committed. "Even if I had looked…" He murmured. A glance at Abu told him that the man wasn't lying, but none of these men fit the bill. One though…nerves rode him, glancing past Riddick over his shoulder…

He whirled, shiv out and stopped just short of white skin, "And whose throat is this?" A woman, white haired, robed, almost like someone's grandmother. Disingenuous. Smooth skin and preternatural stillness were unlike any maternal figure. Anyone aware of a blade at their jugular but able to hide their fear was more than a woman. A female of her species perhaps, but not a woman of the human race, or of his.

Abu put a hand on his shoulder, "This is Aereon, an envoy from the Elementals. She means you no harm."

"If you cut my throat, I'll not be able to rescind the offer that brought you here," Her voice was crisp, cool cutting winds, with an accent that reminded him a bit of Paris P Ogilvie, antiquities dealer, entrepreneur. "Nor tell you why it's so vital that you did come. There is much more at stake here Richard Riddick, than trivialities like bounties and personal revenge."

"I make my own definition of what's trivial, thanks. And the blade comes off when the bounty comes off," Damned if he'd let up now that he had the one he wanted. Because of this woman he'd had to leave Serenity. Leave the first place he'd felt content in years, where he'd finally felt like he could rise to Carolyn's challenge. Because Abu couldn't keep his fucking flapping mouth shut. Some special sort of idiocy combined with the desperation he'd smelt on Abu.

"I'd say an additional explanation was in order," She seemed to concede.

"And I'd say long overdue," He growled low in his throat.

She smiled, deceptively kind, and spun, light as air and just as ephemeral, away from his knife. He moved but there was no following the wind. "There are very few of us who have met a Necromonger noble and lived, unconverted, to speak of it," Her tone was more schoolmarm than maternal. "So when I choose to speak of it, you should choose to listen."

"Necromongers," He murmured. So now he had a name. The name of the people who had wiped his out.

"Be familiar with it," The schoolmarm was dialed up a notch. "It is the name that will convert or kill every last human life...unless the universe can rebalance itself." He stared at her, implacable, cold and distant as the stars, and she finally added, "Balance is everything to Elementals. Water to fire, earth to air. We have thirty-three different words for this balance, but today, here, now, we have time to speak only of the Balance of Opposites."

"Maybe," Riddick stared at her, woman shaped and oh so superior. He had brains, no false modesty there. But if it wasn't related to survival, unless he could read about it on the cortex or in old books someone had thrown away it was out of his area of expertise. (Since he'd met River he had been doing more reading of the classics but he was hardly an educated man.) He'd learned by doing, by imitation, and by reading. He hadn't come across anything written about Elementals and their fascination with balance. And he had enough smarts to know when admitting ignorance was the wisest course.

"Maybe you should pretend like you're talking to someone who's been educated in the penal system. Places where notions like 'rehabilitation' have too many syllables for the guards to pronounce." He tilted his head, aware that it made him look even more predatory than usual. "Fact; don't pretend. I hear what you're saying, but I ain't following where you're going with it." Might as well give her the (mistaken) impression that he wasn't overly intelligent. She seemed to be headed in that direction anyway.

"There is a story…" She began and disappeared, reappeared, disappeared in swirls of air, dust devils of white that moved before his blade each time.

The three clerics were backed against a wall, but the Imam held his ground, taking up the tale, "A story, about young male Furyans who, feared for whatever reason, were strangled at birth. Strangled with their own umbilical cords. When Aereon told this story to the leaders of Helion…I told her of you."

He said that as if it explained everything. And to Riddick it did. But they wouldn't know that. His best bet to find out what their play was, was to play ignorant of his heritage. Yeah, he'd been strangled with his own cord and left for dead, but those nameless, faceless people with the soft hands (bloody but gentle) had found him, took him away to a place he could be cared for. (Before they were given orders to do it even.) Until he could do for himself. These manipulative fucks didn't need to know that his memory was coming back.

Shirah, the Wrath, the visions of Furya, none of that belonged to them. He hadn't minded folks like Serenity's crew knowing. Serenity had proven themselves to him, all of them with secrets and histories of their own. Even Cobb, although that was mostly because he could always kill the waste of space if Cobb turned on him. And the merc was so self-involved (and short-sighted) that using Riddick's past against him wouldn't even occur to him. Plus Mal would have the merc's head on a plate if he tried anything along those lines. But these people…putting a price on his head to draw him out, fuck if he'd given them anything of himself. "Furyans," He repeated as if confused.

The Elemental moved closer, "The one race, we calculate, that may be able to slow the spread of the Necromongers." Her intent gaze was slightly disquieting. This one would throw him on a funeral pyre dedicated to her Balance if she thought it would do her any good. They'd drawn him here to be some sort of hoodoo hero. Talk about grasping at straws. If they really thought he was some big evil and they still came to him… desperation failed to describe. Was there a word for being beyond desperate? Near suicidally so? River would know that one, if he got back to ask her.

Slow the spread… so she pretty much wanted him to throw himself on a funeral pier trying to delay an undead army? She wasn't talking like they could be defeated. More like she was willing to catapult him into the fray, and anyone else she could find, as a vanguard. Cannon fodder it sounded like. Balance… sounded (and smelled) more like bullshit to him. She wanted someone to save their asses.

They were flinging questions at him now, about his past, what he remembered of his home world, his people, family, childhood. The Imam with compassion and the Elemental with cool indifference. He chuckled darkly; he never gave anything away for free. Not unless he had a damn good reason. If they wanted something from him they'd have to give him something first. He eyed the Elemental, "Sister, they don't know what to do with one of me."

No one ever had until that odd little ship of misfits had taken him off a boat of ghosts and offered him a place. They'd known he was different, but it hadn't seemed to matter to them. After the Wrath had destroyed the net he'd been concerned he'd shown them too much, but they treated him the same as always, albeit a bit more cautiously if they saw that blue light pulsing under his skin. Which was just good sense really. (He didn't count Cobb calling him a freak, he'd pretty much expected that.) That just meant they weren't idiots. River hadn't even done that. To her Riddick was the same as he ever had been.

Really none of them belonged together, not as a group. Pairs made sense, Captain and First Mate, First Mate and husband, brother and sister, pilot and mechanic, preacher, gunhand, Companion fitting in where ever. But he'd never have thought that as a group they could work together. A bunch of misfits that didn't belong together, but they didn't belong anywhere else. 'They're the outcasts right at the back of the room.' The phrase came to him from a film he'd seen such a long time ago he could barely remember what it was about. But Serenity's crew made sense (to him at least) in a way nothing else did or had for a long time.

If they'd been the ones asking him, maybe he'd have been less dismissive. But they knew to just ask, not turn him into a payday to draw him out. Abu was still persisting with the questions. "If you were to try, to think back as far as you can, it's possible that…" He stopped aware that he no longer had even a fraction of Riddick's attention beyond what Furyan ears couldn't help but to hear. "What is it?"

Riddick stood at the edge of the veranda, peered cautiously over the side and bit back a curse. He'd learned some good ones from Simon and Mal, and a few from Wash, but any of them would give away his position. And it still wasn't second nature to curse in Chinese. (Really should work on that.) Better not anyway, best to not give away where he'd been, or to where he'd return, (apart from the likelihood of discovery due to said curses). The street below was no longer empty. And happy as the thought might be, it was highly unlikely the armored and heavily armed figures moving around were commuters returning home from working overtime.

No, this was a methodical door to door search, loud and impatient, insistent, they drew close to the Imam's house and crowded to his door. A moment later Lajjun appeared at the entrance of the veranda, her voice quiet but urgent. "They look for a man who came here today. They think he might be… what is the word, 'ghesu'?"

"Spy," Abu murmured. He turned to Riddick distress written on his face, "They must think you're a spy for the—"

His wife interrupted him, her tone sharp, "Did someone see you come here? Did they?"

"Watch it," Riddick growled, hackles rising with irritation. "I only tolerate that tone from one person in the 'Verse and you ain't her." At least she hadn't had the nerve to poke him with her finger. Mood he was in he'd have broken her wrist. He looked at Abu, "And if anyone saw me it would be because they were watching your house. You know how easy I slip in and out of places."

"I will send them away," Abu promised. "But please," Riddick vaulted up to the railing of the veranda. "Please will you wait just one more minute to help save worlds?" Riddick turned to look back at him, eyes glowing in the darkness, "Or will you leave us to our fate? Just as you left her?"

Oh the damned holy man knew how to push his buttons. Only the implied promise regarding news of Jack would have stopped him leaving. His little sister of whom there was no sign but one picture in the whole fucking house. He jumped back down and stared at Abu, "You've got a lot of fuckin' nerve. And you're pushing your luck Imam. Especially considering how you got me here in the first place."

Abu hurried down to the main floor with the other priests. The only one left was the Elemental, and she moved too fast for him to follow. Someday he'd figure out how she did that. The voices of his host and the clerics had faded to silence. That might have been promising if the skin on the back of his neck hadn't been prickling with awareness. A glance down to the street showed more armed men, the Imam, his wife and child, the clerics… Lajjun said something to a soldier and he pushed her away roughly. So much for the civilized worlds.

'When the chips are down, these civilized people will eat each other.' Another quote from another film, with a disturbingly intelligent villain, floated to the forefront of his mind. But it was apt enough in this situation. "And here… we… go…" He murmured to himself and moved to the doors of the inner chamber.

"Come on in." He smiled, "You're not afraid of the dark, are you?"

Author's Note: I read a lot of the novelization of Chronicles of Riddick as I wrote this, trying as much as possible to not plagiarize. The novel has a lot of information which is pretty cool. Some of the dialogue didn't make it to the movie, which is all right, I'm not going for a direct copy of the movie anyway. Can anyone guess my intentions here?

Chinese Translations:

Zhēn tā mā yào mìng. Zhù yì (The situation's really fucked up. Be careful.)

tiān shā de (Goddam! / goddamn / wretched)

Dǒng de (to understand / to know / to comprehend)

Quote Sources:

Hope has two beautiful daughters; their names are Anger and Courage. Anger at the way things are, and Courage to see that they do not remain as they are. – Saint Augustine

Have you ever had someone…take your brain and play? – The Avengers

They're the outcasts right at the back of the room. – Bohemian Rhapsody

When the chips are down, these civilized people will eat each other. – The Dark Knight