11. The Chase Begins

Alec Cross swept the land landscape with a shrewd eye. Tin cabins, tents, and beat up ships used as living quarters. His face scrunched up in disgust. How could people actually live this way?

He'd been trailing Riddick for months now, and he was sure he had him this time. He walked purposefully to the supply store and looked the bored looking man behind the corner in the eye. Well, at least he tried to. The man was absorbed in a nap, of all things in this heat.

Alec wiped his brow with his forearm and prodded the sleeping man with his finger. The man grunted something that sounded like, "Siesta, asshole," shifted in his precarious seat atop his stool, and settled back into dreamland. Alec, deciding the polite approach wasn't working, shoved the man hard with the heal of his palm, knocking him down off his stool.

He found himself suddenly realizing that the polite approach had been the better one when he was faced with the man and the open end of a twelve gauge. The man pumped the weapon, causing a wicked snapping sound to erupt from it.

"You gotta reason for knockin' me down, stranger?" the man drawled, almost casually. Alec wasn't fooled though, the man's voice had a hard, underlying edge.

"I. . . uh. . . didn't mean to knock you down, sir," Alec stammered. The man's golden eyes were wolf-like and Alec was almost certain a low growl was emanating from the man's broad chest. "I just. . . uh. . . wanted to ask you a question."

The man relaxed a little but didn't drop the weapon, but Alec was grateful all the same. "Shoot," the man commanded.

Alec stuck a finger in the collar of his shirt and pulled it away from his sticky neck, as the man casually pulled on a pair of dark shades that had been hanging out of his pants pocket. Glad that the golden eyes were now hidden, Alec got on with his question.

"You seen a man named Riddick around here?" he asked, trying not to sound nervous.

The man slowly lowered the shotgun to his side, still not letting it go, and rubbed his jaw, his fingers making a rasping sound against his stubble. He seemed deep in though. "Nope," he finally said.

The growl was gone, Alec noticed. Or at least what he'd thought was a growl. I must be imagining things, Alec thought. "You're sure? He's kinda hard to miss. Tall, about six foot two. Thick build, shaved head, usually wearing dark goggles."

"Oh," the man said. "Yeah. He lives in the shack at the end of the lane. He's a quiet sort though, dangerous looking, too. I hope you're not going over there to piss him off." The man paused and looked Alec straight in the eye. "He'll kill you."

A cold shiver went down Alec's back, but he hid it from the man, nodded his thanks, and headed down the "lane," as the man had called it.

It was more like the grungy settlers had all agreed to leave a wide path between their shacks. When he got to the end of the lane, he found a well built tin building. Two large water tanks, full, stood at one wall, a hose attached to them.

Alec pushed open the door of the shack, gun drawn, to find it baking hot inside and empty. There was a thick layer of dust on most everything, except for the trunk in one corner and the refrigeration unit in the other. He opened it up. A little cool, but empty as well.

"Damn!" he cursed, kicking at the floor with his booted toe. "I missed him again!"

I'll find that sunofabitch if it's the last thing I do, he swore to himself as he stomped angrily across the camp towards his cruiser.

------

The man in the supply shot watched him warily. He knew who Riddick was. He'd also seen who'd been with him when he'd showed up here again. Gin Wolf.

He had to get word to her somehow, that she and her begoggled friend we're being tracked now, by some slick merc it looked like, too. Gin was Drake's daughter. He owed Drake his life, and Gin had given him a hand more than once back on Crip, before her and her brother and sister had disappeared. And he always owned up to his debts.

------

Jack stood beneath the hot sun on Dres, pulled her dark goggles over her eyes and rubbed the fuzzy stubble on her freshly shaven head.

She surveyed her surroundings with mild distaste. She hated all these dry dusty planets. She wished someone she knew would show up. Sure, she knew most of these people she was working with now, but she didn't like them.

She missed Riddick, but not like she used to. She missed Ven and she missed Gin. But mostly, she missed Brand.

Jack pushed memories of what she missed out of her head and threw her back into her work, shoving down the pain of being left behind again. She picked at the ground with scraped and dirty fingers, sifted through the sand with a screen bottomed pan, picking out the graphite pieces and throwing them in her bucket.

She found herself praying Brand would come back soon and take her off this dusty planet. She prayed that something would end the torture.

------

The ensuing days with Gin were quiet ones. She didn't seem inclined to talk much. She didn't seem the talkative sort and maybe her story had made her hit her talking quota for the month. From the way she was acting, Riddick wondered if maybe for the year.

Strangely enough, he found himself trying to engage her in conversation. His questions were almost as monosyllabic as her answers, but at least he was trying, he grumbled to himself. He wasn't used to being ignored by people, especially ones he was thrown into close contact with. They always seemed to watch him with a hawk's eye, trying to get him to say anything so they could feel less nervous around him.

Gin was different. She knew he wouldn't hurt her, at least not intentionally. There were a few reasons for that. One, he found himself liking and respecting the woman. Two, he didn't want to find he was still underestimating her the hard way. Riddick knew he was strong enough and fast enough to take out most anyone. Gin knew the same thing about herself.

With her hypersensitive senses she was even more of a threat. She didn't have to be stronger than someone to kill them. She was fast, she could anticipate their moves. Riddick suspected she hasn't said all she could do with that little mind of hers. He realized she could probably pick up on many things before they happened. That would explain her reaction times.

The day before she'd been staring out one of the viewing screens and he'd come up behind her. She'd obviously been deep in though because he'd startled her into dropping her glass of water. She spun around, saw it was him, swooped down and snatched her glass before it could hit the ground and break. Then she'd stood up slowly and taken a long sip, eyeing him curiously over the rim.

Her reaction time had surprised him and he'd almost forgotten what he'd been about to ask her. Her answer had been a simple, "Yeah."

The question didn't matter. That's all he could get out of her lately anyway.

They were only half a day from Dres now. Riddick was uneasy, wondering if Jack would be there. There was no way she'd want to stay behind again and Riddick knew there was no way she could come with them. He hoped she wouldn't be jealous of Gin.

The four months they'd been traveling together, women had often showed interest in a little one-on-one action that didn't include the shaved kid. Jack had almost literally bared her teeth at any potential one-night-stands, effectively cutting Riddick off from the fairer sex. He hadn't cared really. He hadn't needed the hassle or the attachment that came with sex. More than that, he never knew which ones were just in it for the sex and which ones knew who he was and just wanted to get him alone so they could tie him up and send him off to the nearest bounty station for their handsome reward. Or worse yet, straight to the Company for his re-initiation into Slam.

He kept wondering when Gin would start asking question, too. He'd promised her his story in return for hers. She'd spilled. He knew she was just biding her time, though. She wasn't the sort to let him off the hook without payment.

Deciding he'd had enough of her strange silence, he went into the back to find her sitting in meditation on the small cot they shared at night. He'd lay flat on his back and she'd sprawl out across his chest. It was a comfortable way to sleep, he admitted to himself. It was nice having her that close at night. He didn't even have to reach for her if he woke up at night.

Even in her silence, Gin was active. Knowing better than to just grab her and attempt to shake her out of her trance he called her name quietly. Gin opened her eyes slowly and turned to look at him. She lifted questioning brows.

"I want to know more about your mind control."

She seemed to close in on herself, and he wondered if she maybe didn't trust him with that part of herself.

He wasn't too keen on sharing his bit of sixth sense with anyone either, so he didn't blame her for withdrawing from him.

"Tell me?" he asked.

She nodded. "All right."

Two syllables. We're making progress, he thought dryly. "You didn't tell me everything about your control, did you?"

She shook her head no.

"I want to know everything."

"This is going to cost you, Riddick," she said, quite seriously. He knew she was referring to what he'd promised to tell her about himself. Now he was going to have to tell more. He nodded his consent.

She thought for a moment before starting. "Okay. I can't control someone. I can heal myself very quickly. You want to see?"

More progress. "I've seen," he replied, referring to her healing from the beatings she'd gotten.

"That was nothing," she stated. She pulled her blade out of her pants and held out her forearm. He watched, stunned, as she drew the razor sharp blade across her skin, ripping a deep cut through it. She clenched her jaw but made no sound, then set the blade aside.

"Jesus, woman. What the hell did you do that for?" he demanded.

"Just watch," she answered.

He watched as she closed her eyes, took a deep breath, and held perfectly still. His eyes widened when the gash immediately began to mend itself. Ten seconds later, it was completely gone.

He was silent as she opened her eyes and looked at him, then down at her arm. She flexed her fingers and rolled her wrist.

"I've been shot a few times. Like that first time I killed those Rangers, in the bar. I caught a bad one. Took ten minutes to fix it when I got home." She flashed a proud grin.

"What else can you do?"

"I can usually heal other people, too. There's two types of people when it comes to mind linking though. You have sponges, who suck it up, and rocks, who block it off."

"Basically, some people will accept it and others just can't take it in?" he asked, wanting to understand.

Gin nodded. "Yeah. You're a sponge," she stated definitely.

He lifted a brow. "So, if I were to cut open my arm like that," he jerked his head towards where she'd slashed herself, "could you heal it that fast?"

She shook her head. "Naw, not that fast, but quick enough. More like five minutes then ten seconds."

"Would you feel drained?"

"No. Not at all. There's more to it than healing, though. I can sense things, too. If someone is close, I can sense that. Trouble, that sort of thing. Sometimes I see things, too, before they happen." She shrugged her shoulders slightly. "I'm so used to it, I don't even think about it anymore. I just do it. I guess it's a great skill, but I take it for granted most the time."

Riddick pushed to his feet. "I'm glad you told me. It's something that will definitely help us in the future, I'm sure of that."

She nodded again, and he watched unhappily as she quickly slipped back into monosyllabic mode.

"I'm going to go check our position, then I'm gonna crash. How 'bout you?"

Another curt nod, and she stretched out on her back, eyes closed.

When he came back she was sound asleep, but lifted a lid when he entered the room. She made a move to get up but he lifted his hand to still her, then picked her up. He laid on his back and she stretched out across his chest, snuggling into his warmth.

And they slept.