Chapter 10
Previously…'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?"
The fight that followed didn't take nearly as long as it could have had the guards shown some semblance of tactics. Bursting into a room en masse had simply given him his choice of targets and the weapons bursts illuminated the space in sharp flashes. He was fairly certain the entire episode took on a nightmarish quality (for the guards and anyone else listening) as the gun fire faded with each kill that he made.
And then the house was silent again, but for his breathing and the ghosts of the dead.
He heard Imam come in, another's step behind him, and stood at the head of the stairs looking down. The soldier he'd seen holding Abu back stood there, behind the priest as they ascended the steps. The kid had the sense to realize that except for Riddick and Abu he was alone. And he probably couldn't expect any favors, much less intercession, from the Imam.
Still he stood his ground, though as Riddick drew closer, it became evident that it was fear, not courage that held him in place. He was holding a knife in his hand as if he'd forgotten his fingers existed. He seemed torn between staring at the predator in front of him and the results of the fight lying on the floor in bloody piles behind said predator.
Riddick shook his head, smiling and took the knife gently, "Shoo, now."
The soldier obeyed, didn't even fall as he hurried down the stairs and out into the street. Riddick looked at Abu and kept his voice to a murmur, no less threatening for the low volume, "You mentioned 'her'." The Imam had better tell him what had happened to Jack or Riddick wouldn't be done with killing for the evening.
Abu was staring at the bloody lumps in much the same way the soldier had. He'd have a helluva mess to clean up, "She, uh—she…" His voice nearly broke before he got the words out. "She went looking for you. Following in your footsteps too literally, I'm afraid. People died. She went to prison." Riddick kept staring at him and he elaborated, "I don't remember where, but it was a world so hot nothing could survive on the surface."
Riddick inhaled slowly and exhaled the same way. He'd never wanted that for her, had left her with Abu to keep her from becoming like him. "When she killed Chillingsworth I let you convince me that she'd be better off without me around. Because we both thought at the time that Chillingsworth was her first kill." He paused and gave Abu a heavy stare, "I started to wonder on the way here if maybe we were wrong. Ain't normal for a kid her age to be on a cryo ship. Ain't normal for a girl to be fascinated with a killer unless she's got something in common with him. She handled weapons pretty easy for someone who'd never killed. And she didn't break down after like people do." He shook his head. "But I let you convince me. That's on me."
Abu almost flinched under the cold stare as Riddick continued, "And this…this is on you. I left her with you Abu, the one person I thought might understand what she'd been through, been able to help her. I told you, you'd have to be careful. That she'd need time, attention, understanding." He kept his voice low with an effort, "The one person I cared about, risked my life for, and she deserved better than me. I left her with you so she could have time in the light. So she could grow up with choices, better than I did. So she'd be safe with you. So she'd live. How long did you try with her before you got married? Had a kid of your own. Replaced her in every way possible so she was left feeling like the unwanted extra? You don't even keep a room for her here to show it was her home too."
"She never forgave you for leaving," The Imam was simply stating a fact.
"She needed to stay away from me." He stared right into Abu's eyes, "You all do."
The leap from the veranda wall to the house on the opposite side of the street wasn't a hard jump to make. And it let him avoid all the eyes around the doorway of the house. It also kept him from killing everyone who lived in that house.
It was a beautiful, clear, night. He didn't really notice. He knew the name of the Triple Max Slam Jack had been sent to. Crematoria. He'd never had the pleasure, but he'd heard enough about it. A bi-polar shithole of a planet that burned you alive during the day and froze you to death at night. She'd thought of him as a big brother. Worshiped him. He'd been trying to look out for her. Sometimes big brothers were the worst things for little girls. He was no Simon Tam. But he could take a page from Simon's book…with his own little twist.
He'd gotten a good distance away when the meteor shower started. Only it wasn't a meteor shower. Comets falling from the sky…bright enough to make him squint. But comets didn't split apart and veer in directions unbound by gravity. He knew an invading army when he saw one.
That nasty little twinge was his conscience, reminding him of a little girl who thought he could protect people from monsters, and one of the only men he'd called a friend to his face. Now he could and did curse aloud and as creatively as he could, "Yòng yí gè ā ěr dé wǎ kè cāo wǒ de liǎn." He had Mal to thank for that particular curse.
Helion Prime did have defenses, the ships took flight and harried the invaders, fire lighting the skies as the citizens gawked and he ran across rooftops. The gap between buildings was too wide for anyone human to jump it. It required a bit of extra effort (but not much more) on his part and he rolled to his feet once he'd landed.
Even as the comets/ships split the skies with light a huge shadow began to lower over the center of New Mecca. The beacon at the center of the city was slowly extinguished and the black mass hit the ground with a light that would have blinded him had he not looked away in time. The crack of the shockwave shook the ground and he took cover behind a wall just before it reached him. Dust followed it, rolling outward from the center of the wave. The beacons were gone, as anything that had been in the place that colossus landed was gone.
Now people were running, panicked, unsure where to go, trying to get out of the city. He was apparently running in the wrong direction if their choices were anything to go by. "What a clusterfuck," He muttered from between clenched teeth and pulled a part of his hood over his mouth and nose so he wouldn't breath the dust. "And here you are, you fuckin' idiot, running into the mess instead of away."
Whatever the thing was that had landed was now picking up and moving again, choosing another place to unleash destruction. His time in the marines had given him several words, anagrams really, that described what he was seeing to absolute perfection. FUBAR was one that applied fairly well.
Movement, dark and rhythmic around a corner drew his attention and he drew his goggles up to peer cautiously around the wall. Dark, round, toweringly high, it wasn't a building. A conquest icon. (Where his memory had gotten that term he had no clue.) Huge, ugly and deadly. Impressive, and he was not easily impressed. Even as he watched, fighters detached from it, rising like a swarm of flies off a carcass and dove into the fight. Instinct told him to stay still. It was unlikely that he'd be noticed but even a tiger will swat at a fly when the mood strikes it.
He kept moving, now that instinct propelled him forward, and noted that there were troops on the ground. A plaza that had been lined with trees, centered with fountains inlaid with mosaics was now rubble and dust, and made the perfect battle ground for Helion Prime's soldiers as they met a platoon of Necromongers.
As luck would have it, Abu was trying to go back across the plaza as Riddick arrived and grabbed the man before he could be cut down by the weapons erupting bullets and energy in a cacophony of sound. The man was screaming across the ruins, likely to his wife and child on the other side. He was struggling in Riddick's grip, not that it did him any good, and when Riddick finally turned him loose in a direction away from the battle Abu spun around and pointed a knife at him.
Riddick regarded the man as he stared and realized who it was who'd kept him from becoming hamburger. "Followin' me?" He asked with grim humor.
The Imam didn't have an answer, not that it mattered. Sooner than seemed realistic the Helion Prime forces cut down the Necromongers. Abu rose eagerly to leave, and Riddick grabbed him again, "You don't understand, Lajjun and Ziza, they're out there."
"Out there where," Riddick pictured the plaza, what he'd seen before the firefight had started.
"Southwest side under a broken roof," The Imam gestured. "I've got to get to them. They don't know what's happening, where I am. Just let me—"
Yeah, he got it, but there was no way it was safe to move yet and a dead husband and father would do Abu's family no good, "When it's over."
"When it's over? When it's over?" Abu tried to stand up, gesturing towards the plaza, "Didn't you see what happened? This group of invaders, they're all dead. It is over, at least for the moment." He struggled in Riddick's grasp, "Let me go. I need to be with—"
"When it's over," Riddick repeated implacably. What he'd just seen made no sense. There was no point in marching into enemy fire. Something else was in play and they were staying put until he found out what it was. He was willing to bet that it had something to do with the hovering sphere the last dying Necromonger soldier had thrown into the air.
It was a stone cold bitch always being right.
The Helion Prime troops had learned that gravity was a bitch too. Especially artificially increased gravity that expanded from a sphere and flattened them to a paste on the flagstones.
He'd offered to let Abu come with him; he still had the merc ship. He'd have to deal with the mercs but that wouldn't be difficult. But the Imam wouldn't leave his family, and he didn't trust Riddick with them. He'd at least been polite about it, not that polite mattered much to Riddick. Abu's plan was to get across the river to the shelters there. It was not a good plan and Riddick told him so in no uncertain terms. And still somehow, he was guiding three people through a city under siege. The last vestiges of his conscience maybe? He just had to open his mouth, "I'm sure God has his tricks, but getting out of places no one else can, that's one of mine. Let's get your family."
Now the other military anagram he'd learned came to mind. SNAFU. And damn if it didn't apply perfectly as he chased after Abu.
They'd run across a group of Necros, likely a mop up squad, with the freakiest things he'd ever seen, and he'd seen a lot (Reavers being some of the latest) of creepy shit. But things that used to be men, with no faces or ears, noses gone, replaced by machinery, walking on leashes like drug sniffing dogs, that was a whole new level of fucked up.
Abu had nobly, and stupidly, exposed himself and drawn the attention of the group. So, they chased him of course. Including a big Necro with a knife hilt sticking out of his spine. But one lone 'dog' remained, drawn to their position. Thankfully their anatomy proved as vulnerable to a knife and Furyan hands breaking their necks as any human so one problem solved.
And now he was chasing after Necros who were chasing the Imam. The big one actually was smiling at Abu, as if glad to see him, no weapons drawn. They wanted him, Riddick realized, they wanted someone to question. A lone, easily taken male would be the perfect source of information. Abu either realized the same or he'd just had enough of his world being destroyed, because he launched himself at the Necro.
As fights went, it wouldn't have lasted long, the Imam hadn't been trudging across hostile planets in high gravity lately. Luckily for him, Riddick's edge (despite the relative comforts of Serenity) had not been dulled by soft living, safe housing and good food. His idiot friend took a knife to his side, likely nicked his kidney if it went deep enough, and tumbled over the edge of the wall he was standing on.
Trying to sneak up on a fight didn't usually put him in the optimal position to rescue someone but he managed to grab Abu from the lower balcony of the building they were standing on before the man hit the pavement in a bloody splat. It helped that Abu clung to the wall before losing his grip. Riddick was good but Furyan reflexes only went so far. Hauling Abu over the balcony he realized the man's wound was worse than he'd thought. "C'mon," He growled quietly. "Damned if I went through all this running just to haul your corpse around Abu."
Evading Necromongers while hauling a bleeding six foot plus male did not an easy feat make. They managed but graceful or pretty it was not. When they got several blocks away Riddick stopped and set Abu down, "You're losing too much blood and we're leaving a trail. If we're gonna get anywhere we need to stop the bleeding." He told him flatly.
"What…what do you suggest?" The Imam inquired with a touch of whimsy in his tone.
"Stitches'll tear, bandage'll slip," Riddick told him. "We're gonna have to go the old-fashioned route and cauterize it." Abu took a breath and nodded. "It'll hurt like a bitch Abu and you might have to get a doctor to open it later on, but you'll be able to move after and later won't matter if we don't get through right now."
"Let us get it done," Abu nodded. "They will be worried."
They'd gotten it done, Abu biting down on the hilt of Riddick's shiv to keep from screaming while Riddick pressed another hot blade to the wound. He'd gotten Abu back to where he'd left the man's family.
They were still there, waiting silently.
He got them to the shelter. The Imam was feverish and pale. Whether he'd live through the night or the next day (or beyond that) was anyone's guess. He needed medical attention, drugs, rest and peace. Riddick wouldn't give good odds Abu was likely to get any of that, not with an invading army.
Riddick left the shelter and made his way to the capital building asking himself why most of the way there and getting no real answer. They'd pulled the symbol of Helion Prime off the roof. Why was it the biggest forces had to be the most petty? Destroying everything just because they could. If they hadn't killed the beacon the rest of the Helion system would have no idea there was a problem until it showed up on their doorstep. Poor tactics to his way of thinking. But he guessed if you had men to spare and didn't care about lives lost you did whatever the fuck you wanted.
The Necromongers were herding people into the capital building and Riddick allowed himself to be swept along with them, a deep hooded robe hiding his face and goggled eyes from those around him. Talk about a wolf in sheep's clothing. Not the first time he'd disguised himself as such and he had his doubts that it'd be the last.
The citizens of New Mecca were not resigned to this invasion or conquering army. Their leaders even less so. The head of the Necromongers didn't seem to care. Another one, richly dressed with a cap of metal phalanges (maybe not but it sure looked like gold fingerbones) and clearly not a fighter, was more cajoling, persuasive. He spoke of being exactly like them once, angry, lost, afraid and misguided.
It was a good pitch. Maybe it worked on other worlds. Places where people didn't take pride in their diversity and acceptance of all faiths. One of the politicians seemed to feel the same way. He stood, stared the leader in the eye and told him that he wouldn't cow them, couldn't make them give up their religion, their freedom. Or words to that effect.
It is human nature to believe that something cannot happen. Until it happens. The mind can't imagine the seemingly impossible. Nobody's fault. It's just how people are.
The result was…not good. Something reached out from inside the Leader and into the chest of the politician. As everyone watched in horror, the man clutched at himself and the something began to pull back out, dragging with it a nebulous and shining shade, tearing it loose. The politician collapsed, instantly dead.
The Leader stood, haughty, posing before them, "Anyone else believe that our philosophy is alien to reality? Or that what you have just witnessed did not occur?" There was a deafening silence, "Who will now bow and beg to, someday, cross the Threshold as one of the Select?"
He watched as man and woman, row by row, sank to their knees. Confronted with something like this… Yeah, they wouldn't think there was much choice. And surprising as it was to see the man die, to see someone's soul, if that's what it was, ripped out of him, he still couldn't bring himself to kneel. Couldn't even begin to force himself to submit to someone the Animal, the Furyan, considered inferior. Shirah would kick his ass up and down those mountains he'd seen in his dreams if he even considered the notion.
He knew the minute they saw him. The triumphant air of the elite soldiers behind their leader stiffened with irritation. One approached him, coldly condescending, "Well?"
Riddick leaned against the massive doorjamb, as relaxed as if he'd been discussing chess with Simon, "I'm not really with them." Sheep, all of them, any spine they'd had, wilted like warm lettuce, his lack of interest in Helion's citizens couldn't be more plain.
The Necro frowned as if puzzled unwillingly and continued, "This is your chance. Your one chance to accept the Lord Marshall's offer and bow. Consider yourself privileged. The Lord Marshall is being generous. Most times, such blatant displays of defiance are simply disposed of."
One of the greatest strategists had said, know yourself, know your enemy and you will always triumph. He was arrogant enough to feel amused that this Necro thought he could simply cow Riddick into kneeling. And irritated enough by the thought of bowing that he simply stared at the Necro, "I bow to no man."
He knew himself, his flaws, his weaknesses and strengths. What would this play reveal about the enemy? No doubt these people were his enemy. He could feel it in his bones, an itch filling the marrow. A matter of will, to keep his fingers from twitching, his palms tingling with an ache to hold a shiv, his face without expression.
The Necro seemed unusually patient, or maybe it was just awareness of his audience. He wasn't showing weakness, but neither was he overexerting his strength. This one didn't act like a bully, unlike the Leader, their Lord Marshall. This Necro's certainty came from belief. (Believes hard and never asks why…River's words came back to him.) This one would use reason, leverage and intelligence, "He is not a man." The words were nearly condescending, as if speaking to someone Ziza's age, "He is the holy Half Dead who has seen the Underverse. He is much more than a man." He gestured towards the central dais, where the crumpled husk of the defiant politician remained, untouched where he'd fallen. "Did you not see with your own eyes the palpable demonstration of his abilities."
Riddick straightened from his relaxed position against the wall and got the satisfaction of the Necro twitching in response. "Tell you what. I'm not much into the bow-and-beg thing. Just doesn't do anything for me." Without moving otherwise, he nodded towards the group of warriors on the dais, pointedly jerking his chin at the one with a knife in his back, "But I will take a piece of him."
The Necro in question smiled as if anticipating an easy fight, moving towards them and pulling out two massive battle axes as he walked. His lack of concern would have been insulting if Riddick had given a damn about his opinion. Nothing new about a big, supposedly better armed man, thinking he could take Riddick on and live. Like every merc or guard (or inmate) to go up against him in a slam, he'd learn differently. As he drew near the Necro in front of Riddick nodded, "A piece you shall have."
He stepped aside to make way for his fellow warrior, and Riddick watched impassively as the larger Necro came towards him in a rush. He would have been a helluva more impressive if his body language didn't practically scream his every move. The twin axes sliced down to where Riddick had been standing…
Two seconds before.
Riddick never knew if anyone else saw things the way he did. His perception of time always seemed to slow down in a fight, a quick twist and spin to the side, sliding beneath the outreached arms and turning to the Necro's back. One hand to reach out and grasp the knife hilt protruding next to the spine, another second to tear it out, bringing blood, bone and bits of nerve with it. The spine severed in an instant. And for the coup de grâce…
Twin axes still firmly gripped in his hands the Necro turned and his expression of confident, almost amused, expectation shifted to surprise. Near astonishment. And then the very satisfying blank look of a dead man. He toppled to the ground like a tree falling, making an impressive heap on the floor. The knife once embedded in his spine stuck out of his throat like a bizarre ornament before Riddick bent and jerked it out again with a small gush of dark blood.
The citizens of Helion Prime started gasping in surprise. The Necromongers shifting their stances in disbelief and gripping their weapons. The mutterings racing through the dissimilar groups were strikingly similar in their content. Neither group had ever seen anything like him. Maybe it had been stupid to ask for a fight but there was only so much arrogance he could take. And this gave him a chance to take the enemy's measure. Know thy enemy.
River had quoted some old philosopher once, 'If you know the enemy and know yourself, you need not fear the result of a hundred battles. If you know yourself but not the enemy, for every victory gained you will also suffer a defeat. If you know neither the enemy nor yourself, you will succumb in every battle.' He could agree with the sentiment, and he had never passed up a chance to study an adversary. He might not phrase it so pretty but he'd picked up the general gist a long time ago.
Riddick turned his back and began to leave. He'd done what he came to do. If the Imam died at least the man…thing that had killed him had paid for it.
"Stay."
It had the sound of an unmistakable command. Impulse warred with sense. He took a breath and turned reminding himself that showing his hand too early or provoking an entire army into attacking him was definitely counterproductive. Push that itch back, stifle that instinct to gut anyone who'd use that autocratic arrogant tone on him. He'd learn nothing if he didn't allow for some engagement. But fuck, he hated acting like he'd deign (River's vocabulary rubbing off on him) to follow any command of this jackass.
The Lord Marshall was approaching him. Humans and Necromongers alike parted before him in a five-foot wave as if he projected a field around himself. Maybe he did, they all smelt like fear.
Riddick stood his ground and waited. Moving towards the prick would be a surrender. Stepping away would show fear. Remaining exactly where he was, as he was, that was the best move.
The Lord Marshall was no taller than Riddick, might have been shorter since the arched helm he wore added height. The Necro looked Riddick up and down and Riddick gave him the same treatment. Insolence, defiance, whatever the Necros wanted to call it, giving them an inch would let them take mile after mile, even if half the 'verse used centimeters and kilometers right along with inches and miles. If he gave in now he would never regain the ground he'd lost. Battle of wills…good thing he'd learned patience over the years.
The Lord Marshall broke first, whether he realized it or not, he'd just lost the staring contest with a cat. He gestured towards the corpse of the mountainous Necro, "Superbly trained. Utterly converted. A true believer and a dedicated servant of the cause. One of my best, Irgun."
Riddick didn't deign to glance at the dead Necro, "If you say so." He didn't have to say anything else to convey his contempt for the dead 'servant of the cause'. If that had been one of the best and a man without armor, without a weapon even, had taken him out in two moves? River could have dealt with Irgun and her only half trained.
The Lord Marshall was caught, like so many before him, intrigued and Riddick smiled inwardly. No one knew what to make of him (sister they don't know what to do with one of me) and every time someone tried they just gave him more ammunition to use against them. The Necro leader was speaking again and Riddick gave him his attention with an attitude of indifference similar to, and just as deceptive as, his hold on the knife he'd ripped from Irgun's back. "Rare, isn't it? The knack for turning your enemy's strengths into his fatal weakness? Quite rare. Usually a talent found in machines, in predictors. Not in individuals. You're an unusual man."
Repeating himself seemed the thing to do, it certainly wouldn't give anything away at this point, "If you say so." That was the game now, learn as much as he could about the enemy while keeping him in the dark.
The Lord Marshall's lips twitched in what was almost a smile. He nodded at the (apparently) casually held blade, "So you like that blade? What do you think of it?"
Riddick gave the weapon his attention for a moment, put it through the tests he'd learned in the academy, the same tests he'd taught River. Spinning it on his palm, flipping it expertly and balancing it on the tip of his finger by the point of the blade and then the hilt. He was aware that for anyone watching it looked like a magician doing sleight of hand tricks. The Necro who'd come to speak to him first looked grudgingly impressed. The Lord Marshall was better at keeping his expression schooled. "I think it's a half-gram heavy on the back end," He gave his answer thoughtfully. "Not so good for throwing. Good metal though. Unusual alloy. Never seen the like." He nodded towards the dead Irgun, "Obviously no problem penetrating bone."
The Lord Marshall nodded, "In an age of high-speed compacted explosives, energy weapons, and internal guidance systems, there is something comforting about a killing device as ancient yet reliable as a knife."
Riddick offered him the blade silently and the Lord Marshall shook his head, for the first time obviously reluctant, "Yours, not mine. In our faith, we have a saying. 'You keep what you kill'." He studied Riddick intently, "Are you familiar to me? Did we meet before, on some distant field?"
The Furyan stared back at him. This man, and he was a man for all his creepy ass voodoo shit, was the one responsible for the genocide that had left him the last of his race. This man had strangled him with his own umbilical cord after he'd carved him out of his mother's womb. He knew it in his bones. Could feel it like he felt the Wrath when it filled him. "You'd think I would remember," He said slowly. "If we had ever met while I lived."
It was true. When they'd first met, he'd been dead (mostly), an infant unable to breathe.
The Lord Marshall nodded slowly, "You'd think I would too. There's an inkling there I can't shake but one I can't place either. I don't like ambivalence. There's no room for that in one who seeks the Threshold. I think perhaps further investigation is in order. Nor, in such matters and despite my position, am I so vain as to eschew assistance." He looked over at the Necro who'd first spoken to Riddick, "Bring him before the Quasi-Deads."
He turned and stalked away, obviously done with the interview and the Necro and other warriors formed a tight threatening circle around Riddick. As if they thought that could contain him. More fools they.
He'd never liked being surrounded, his hand tightened on the hilt of the knife and a couple of the soldiers pushed towards him. Cornering a predator animal, most unwise, the only way out would be an attack. His glare couldn't be seen from beneath the goggle lenses, but it could be felt as the two promptly stepped back.
It might have continued, an impasse of Necro soldiers revolving around Riddick as the axis of a wheel, but a slender figure slipped between the armored men.
She carried no obvious weapons, wore no armor, at least in the conventional sense, "Perhaps the breeder would do it if someone just asked him, instead of threatening him with dozens of weapons." Those words…he'd heard them from River's mouth in that same sibilant tone. A warning he would be a fool to not heed.
She advanced and he stared at her, his grip on the knife not slackening. This was as dangerous an individual as the soldiers, more so in some ways. Female shaped, alluring, polished as jet and just as sharp as the knife he held. Better to act as if he was interested, give her what she expected. She continued speaking as if she didn't notice the knife, "It's a rare offer. For a nonbeliever to pay a visit inside Necropolis." As mysterious as her religion, a finger rose to her lips, hovering in silent enigmatic promise, "Would you like to see me there?"
Riddick caught a glimpse of the Lord Marshall on his way out, pausing in the portico and glancing back at the situation with a frown. So most likely the woman wasn't someone in authority, but it seemed no one would argue if she got results. A glance at the other, he supposed, senior Necromonger told him that he was even less pleased.
She inserted her hand along his arm, settling her palm in the crook of his elbow. Sense memory took him back to the last time a woman had done that. River, holding his arm gently so he would slow his pace across the lobby of the hotel, his little apprentice. She had a lot to teach him, and he'd been looking forward to learning. Looking forward to teaching her in return. Fuckin' mercs taking him away from the one place he'd felt the most at home in years.
Almost involuntarily his mouth tilted in a slight curve at the memory of River and the woman beside him smiled in reaction, satisfaction like cream on her lips. So, she thought she'd won something. He made a show of leaning over her shoulder, too close for most women to be comfortable and inhaling her scent deeply. Spice, incense, something acidic and the faintest scent of rot. This was the mythical serpent in the garden.
Might as well give her something, let her get overconfident, "Long time since I smelled beautiful."
"Let me show you the way," She began to walk, her hand on his arm a subtle tug and he walked with her.
The woman guided him into the ship that was more like a city set on a hovering disc. The entire thing a shrine to death, to the Threshold they all wanted to see so badly.
The Lord Marshall led the way, the others flanking him or Riddick a bit further behind, while the woman educated him on the architecture of what she called the Basilica. The sheer scale of it was mind boggling. And his was not a mind easily boggled. What was the point of it?
"Six regimes of Necromongers have called this home, the Necropolis, the center of our religion." She pointed at a row of imposing statues. "Past Lord Marshalls. All of them have crossed the Threshold. As will all who believe, eventually. Magnificent isn't it?"
"Kinda dark, even for me," He shrugged as he took it all in. Gothic architecture crossed with old myths of hell, sins twisted and displayed as virtues. He could picture Inara, or Simon's reaction, their oh so politely concealed dismay at such wealth displayed with such bad taste. River would likely laugh and call it pretentious and overwrought. Something about it tickled the back of his mind, the gleam of marble underfoot and the shadowy stone… Seemed familiar, like something from a dream. Or a vision. "I mighta gone a different way."
"True of us all," The slender man with a cap made of metal bones agreed.
People were in line, some entombed, some outstretched, the looks on their faces ran the gamut from torment to ecstasy. He glanced at the metal bone man and was given an explanation, "Converts. Here they learn how one pain can lessen another."
"Yeah," He frowned as Dame Vaako led him to the center of a circular chamber. He could, to a point, understand what they meant. If you had one injury, then got another, the brain concentrated on the pain of the new injury. But that didn't mean it wasn't pain, it could be dealt with, ignored, but it didn't just go away. They actually thought their spikes in the neck would lessen the pain of losing entire worlds, lives, everything worked for or cherished. Physical pain never trumped emotional. These people were some sick kind of twisted fucks. "Real cradle of education you've got here."
The serpent shaped like a woman positioned him carefully on a dais, "There, that is just…perfect." Her perfect lips curved in a cold yet somehow sympathetic smile as she dispensed her advice in a languid airy tone, "Relax. Don't try to fight it. The more you resist them, the greater the potential damage will be." She retreated through a doorway and he was alone in a room that suddenly seemed cavernous with echoes.
'Them,' He wondered. 'Who the hell is them?' His thoughts echoed in his ears and he frowned, 'There's something in here that's—' He stopped but it wasn't easy to stop thinking, to stop verbalizing. It wasn't his voice, but another's, someone Reading his thoughts, pulling them right out of his mind and speaking them damn near simultaneously.
Focused gravity caught him in its grip, and he was forced into a crouch, barely kept from being shoved to his knees. Damned if he'd ever kneel to these sick freaks. Worse than the world with three suns, his lungs felt as if they could simply drop out of his chest to the floor. When even breathing was a struggle he definitely had a problem.
He heard a voice, somewhere above him, "Touch is established."
Movement around him, not his thoughts, actual movement, tall rounded shapes sliding out of the walls, similar in shape if not scale to the conquest icons that decorated Helion Prime's landscape. Whorls and inscriptions decorated their sides as if they were ancient sarcophagi, but these housed something only half dead. The smell would have sent him staggering if he could move…indescribable…living rot.
"Wondering," The voices were a goddamn Greek chorus. "Wondering about us, realizing what we are. Sensing, attempting comprehension of the Dark Thought. Trying to shut us out, shut down the here/now/then/was/will be. In vain, vainly, resisting, futile struggles. Cannot think not to think without thinking about it. Conundrum of the inevitable." Too fucking right, damn them, couldn't stop thinking, couldn't shut the brain down, the original perpetual motion engine, it just wasn't possible.
There was nothing he could do as a mental thrust seemed to tear through his brain. Even if he were unrestrained, knocking himself unconscious would only delay the process. "Ahh…thinking he knows what we are… Reader. A girl, slender, anguished… Escape…"
He forced his thoughts away from her, away from River, damned if they could have her. Escape. That was a good thought, solid. The damn things around him were still echoing his thoughts. "Thinks of escape now…"
'Always an opening,' Riddick tried but couldn't keep his own from being repeated aloud. 'Wait for a chance and attack it. It'll come, it'll come…'
"Having many ideas now," The dead around him whispered loud as a shout. "All swirling, chaotic. A conscious attempt to confuse. As admirable as it is ineffective. Interesting breeder. Interesting mind. Still a mind, human, organic, unable to hide…Nothing can hide from the Dark Thought."
A different voice, distinct with command ordered, "Regress."
He felt them rummaging through his mind, like fingers through files, "New mindscape, just hours old. Relevant image indistinct. Particularly strong retention factor. Wonder who she is. Her purpose. Subject attempting to dissemble. Sister, they don't know what to do with one of me. You want something from me give me something. What does she mean? When she told us of this story I told her of you. Strangled with his umbilical cord." He remembered what River had said, about hearing everything, seeing everything…His little Seer, if she wanted to learn something specific, he believed she had to open her mind. It made her vulnerable to other thoughts, powerful emotions.
Those voices, grasping at the images in his mind, of River, her face, "Thoughts of the Reader, His Seer, vulnerable…"
The commanding voice came, somehow more distinct, desperate, "Again. Regress again. Further. Distant past. Not hours but years. All the way. Anything related. Seek significance. Clarification. Seek link."
Their thoughts were tearing at his mind, pulling away layers like dead skin, seeking his past. Damned if he'd give it to them easily. His words to Abu long ago sounded in the chamber, "Think someone can spend half their life in the slam...with a horse bit in their mouth and not believe? Think he could start out in some trash bin...with an umbilical cord wrapped around his neck and not believe? Got it all wrong, Holy Man. I absolutely believe in God. And I absolutely hate the fucker."
His entire past would be laid out for these fuckers, the image forming in his mind an instinctive defense he couldn't have directed even if he'd tried. An inborn need to fight back against this enemy invading his thoughts as if they had the right. A hand reached out, extended through nothingness, the Black of space, terminating in thick powerful fingers. A world appeared, green and lush, jungles with creepers in the branches, golden plains with yellow green rivers snaking through them, beautiful fiery topped mountains and powerful figures roaming the ground.
The hand dove into the world, tearing into it until it dissolved into hundreds of thousands of wiggling microscopic life forms. They fell away with shouts and cries of rage and rebellion into the Black until only one remained, a child dangling from the fingers of that hand screaming in defiance.
Even as he watched the infant began to transform, sharp almost angular shapes emerging from its back, the neck elongating, head reshaping and the flailing arms honing to talons. River's seemingly whimsical nicknames made more sense. The wò lóng, Lóng Wáng was what she saw in him. Even as he had the thought another phrase (and he couldn't even remember where he'd heard this one) rolled through his mind, wàng zǐ chéng lóng, and he wondered if that had been Shirah's aim had been all these long years. Was everything he'd done, all his choices, only illusion to guide him here? To this moment? The idea simply filled him with rage.
The infant dragon seemed to grow exponentially, wings and claws stretching out and blue fire poured from its roaring maw. That dark hand tried to grasp it, tried to crush it, and ultimately burned in that blue fire, crumpling away to dust.
He felt his eyes nearly roll back in his head, forced himself to stay conscious, hanging on by a thread as that blue fire blazed through his mind, all consuming. He couldn't think, his entire being concentrated on (Fury) staying awake and keeping his heart going. The voices around him felt distant, faded as the fire roared through him. Fuck them, try to tear open his mind, find his thoughts and memories, they could fucking choke on the hells he had lived through.
The things in the sarcophagi around Riddick began to tremble, voices roiling uneasily, "We find energy… Something—new." They chorused discordantly, "Feedback in the dark thought. Not resistance—something more. Not receding—coming out. Coming forward." He could almost feel their unease, "Need to stop. Stop the feedback before—before—"
From above him he heard that voice, cold command abandoned for anger tainted with fear, "Bring it back. There is more I need to know. Where did he come from? His birth world? His subsequent history? These are things I need to know—"
Louder now, sound clarifying, the voice broke off abruptly as the dead around him shrieked, "Keep him out. Out of the mind loop." Riddick knew he wasn't doing a damn thing (not purposely anyway), filled with the blue fire, not that he was aware of, for all his defiant thought, but they kept on, nearly shrieking, "Shut down the dark thought. Shut it down. Keep him away from us. Keep him—"
Another voice, quiet, awed, "It's not possible. Not possible. He—he is scanning the Quasi-Dead."
The shrieking started bothering his ears now, "Kill the breeder!" The inhuman chorus shrill and manic, "Kill the Riddick. Kill the Riddick! KILL THE RIDDICK!"
The sarcophagi were pulling away, the pull of gravity suddenly released, he could breathe without struggle. He straightened and took a breath without pain, relishing it even as he heard that voice command. "Kill the Riddick."
He recognized the voice now that his brain wasn't being invaded, the Lord Marshall had just ordered his death. In response three soldiers leapt into the space between the upright coffins. The Quasi Dead were pulling back, in response to the imminent violence or in desperation to get away from him, he couldn't be sure. He sensed more than saw them slowly, laboriously, retreating into the walls, as he became a little busy with the newcomers.
One charged forward, apparently eager to die and Riddick obliged him. The first to make a mistake, he was the first to die, blocking the blow, Riddick twisted and stabbed. The blade protruded from his neck and his comrade was already raising his own weapon. Grappling with the second soldier he noticed that the third, and another Necro, his lieutenant most likely, were not going to bother with hand to hand combat. They were leveling guns towards him.
Sensible of them. He forced the soldier he was fighting to turn, putting him between himself and the other Necros. Just in time too as the other two began shooting. Dropping and rolling away left the soldier as the only one to come under fire. Their weapons crushed his armor as if it was a tin can. Messy with the soldier still inside of it.
The sarcophagi were nearly to their walls, one remained slightly closer to him than the rest. Quickly, Riddick scooped up one of the dead men's guns and grabbed hold of the coffin, retreating back with it.
The lieutenant Necro was almost quick enough. He got there in time to see Riddick holding him off with one of their own weapons before disappearing into the hollow with the coffin. A door slammed shut between the coffin and the cavern chamber and there was only darkness. Just the way he liked it.
He'd only met a few other people in his time who knew ships like he did. Being able to determine the layout of a ship's plan, the likely locations of fuel tanks and reserves, life support and the accompanying tunnels after only seeing a ship once, or maybe twice was rare. Kaylee could do it. She'd gone on at length about what she called 'the lè sè design' of the huge Alliance cruisers. They'd had some decent conversations about ship design and how cryo ships differed from live. She'd hate this unwieldy hunk of crap, likely would have a very colorful turn of phrase to describe it.
He had a feeling River would be able to do the same thing, assuming she ever got her mind back under her own control. It would be interesting to meet her, all grown up, sane, or as sane as a Reader ever could be. A little crazy could make life interesting. Being on Serenity and around River sure wouldn't ever be dull.
Those thoughts were for later. Now he had to get off this gigantic pile of junk. The place was a maze of conduits, tunnels and channels. Lucky for him he'd always been good at puzzles. And the gun he'd taken came in handy as he simply punched his way through one level after another. The Necromongers would be hunting him, they'd go through every possible route. So, better to create his own.
He startled a few people when he dropped into what looked like an engine room. Stares were nothing unusual and since they didn't seem inclined to attack, he simply shrugged and continued onward. One male moved towards what looked like a communication device as Riddick found what he was looking for. Ignoring him as he'd ignored everyone else, he made for the gap between the stabilizers.
One of the gravity orbs he'd seen before intercepted him and if he hadn't seen it coming it would have taken his head off at the collarbone. Noise and commotion behind him alerted him to the arrival of the Necromonger soldiers. They were pouring into the engine room and he drew the gun he'd appropriated matching their own battle-ready posture.
Rather than fire at the oncoming troops he turned and threw the gun as hard as he could straight into the rotating orb. The orb did just what he thought it would do, contracting promptly around the weapon. In a half second, what had been a decent sized gun was a penny sized piece of metal and the orb was spent for the moment.
Riddick jumped into the gap between the stabilizers and clambered down one of them. Now if the soldiers fired after him they could damage the ship. And with the humongous bulk of the Basilica above him Riddick crouched in the wreckage of the buildings it had landed upon.
An inch of movement from the ship either way and he'd be crushed. But moving the Basilica would require programming a new course, or at least a correction to posture and by the time anyone figured out what to do it would be too late. It wasn't as if he planned to wait around.
Five minutes later he was emerging from under the ship and disappearing into the warren of wreckage that had once been Helion Prime's capital. Holing up in an abandoned building that was more or less intact, if you ignored the fact that the roof looked more like an A-frame than the squared off block it was meant to, he watched as the citizens of the ruined city scavenged the rubble.
Human nature didn't change. Looking for anything that would aid in survival, ignoring anyone but themselves, snatching up valuables that would be worthless in a day. They continued on into the night when he left the shelter of the building and began the walk back to the merc ship.
A man in robes similar to the Imam's noticed him walking and tracked his movements for a bit longer than the rest of his disinterested fellows. The slight pause was not to his benefit as a Necro craft with those freaky human machine dogs attached to it appeared. Both the cleric and Riddick rushed for cover.
Concealed, Riddick saw that his move hadn't gone unobserved. Big eyes stared at him, wide and pleading and confused. The little girl was right out in the open and crying softly, about the same age as Ziza. It couldn't be her. He'd left her with Abu and Lajjun at the shelter. But she looked like her.
He shook his head, trying to put it out of his mind, there were bound to be a lot of children wandering the streets, surviving what their parents hadn't. This one just looked like her.
The Necro transport continued on, the sound of the engine's fading and he emerged from his hiding place and approached the girl. She had her back to him now, and he had to turn her around to see her face.
Definitely wasn't her. Poor kid didn't look anything like Ziza. His eyes had been playing tricks on him. Except his eyes never played tricks on him. Never. The perils of a conscience and rejoining the human race he reminded himself. Deal with the implications of that later. Too late to go back now. He picked her up and she began to cry harder.
The damn Necro ship came back a lot faster than it had left. He couldn't tell if those dog people had picked up his presence or the girl's crying. Not that it mattered. All that mattered now was moving his ass as fast as possible and the fear on the child's face.
Fast as possible for him, could be pretty damn fast, he got the child to a sheltered doorway and left her there, continuing to run. The Necro transport was definitely homing in on him, troops gathering in the open mouth of the bay in preparation for deployment, dropping down on their single elusive target.
Riddick wasn't sure what was going on with the Necros that they didn't notice. Maybe they were so eager to find and catch him that they'd ignored their own defensive protocols. But his eyes caught the three bright streaks of light right at the same time the Necros did. Aimed at the ship and not him, which was always a good thing as far as he was concerned, they hit the rear section of the transport and blew it to bits.
Bodies flew, flames and secondary explosions began to turn night into day, but the rapidly falling ship still had a disturbing amount of forward momentum. Forward momentum that would take it right in Riddick's direction.
Diving for cover seemed the sensible course of action and he barely made it before the wounded ship passed directly over him. It slammed into the base of a still standing structure before it ground to a smoking fiery stop. Within the burning wreckage nothing moved.
To add insult to injury the structure, fatally injured itself, fell forward, collapsing onto the ship.
Standing up cautiously from his impromptu foxhole Riddick heard the familiar sound of armaments cycling up and turned. The cleric who'd taken an interest in him earlier stood before a group of people he recognized, much to his (apparent) misfortune. All of the weapons, including what was likely a missile launcher, were aimed in Riddick's direction.
Well…it wasn't as if he hadn't been expecting something along these lines.
Author's Note: The biggest change that I noticed between the book and the movie was the scene with the Greater Quasi Deads. I really enjoyed how the book showed Riddick pushing back and so I took that and ran with it. I made other changes as well (obviously) but this was a big one.
Chinese Translations:
Yòng yí gè ā ěr dé wǎ kè cāo wǒ de liǎn (fuck me in the face with an aardvark)
wò lóng (lit. hidden dragon / fig. emperor in hiding)
Lóng Wáng (Dragon King (mythology))
wàng zǐ chéng lóng (lit. to hope one's son becomes a dragon (idiom); fig. to long for one' s child to succeed in life / to have great hopes for one's offspring / to give one's child the best education as a career investment)
lè sè (Garbage, trash)
Quote Sources:
If you know the enemy and know yourself, you need not fear the result of a hundred battles. If you know yourself but not the enemy, for every victory gained you will also suffer a defeat. If you know neither the enemy nor yourself, you will succumb in every battle. – The Art Of War - Sun Tzu