XII. Old Friends

She stood there, waiting for him to kill her. He could see it in the set of her jaw, the curious absence of fear in her eyes. He watched in fascination as her collar tightened, then released; tightened, released again. He'd never seen a behavioral inhibitor do that before. He had never felt his own throat tightening and releasing like that, either.

This was something new.

Riddick could reach his hands out, could take and grasp hold of this new thing; but it had no shape. He felt his skull bursting with something larger than the entire ship; but he couldn't name it. So he jerked his head toward the lift, and Kat padded past. The lift hummed up, and Kat vanished.

For the first time in years, Riddick thought of his old roommate from juvie; the hope that Teo was alive, and someplace safe, surprised him. His eyes glinted over the hold full of destruction; his mind supplied a picture of Jack, secure and happy, and he hoped it was so. He thought of Imam, too, and even found himself hoping for the holy man's survival in this unholy universe.

With his head near to splitting from this new thing, Riddick called the lift back down and boarded. It smelled like Kat, and quite suddenly, he thought of a sparrow.

He didn't kill me. Kat stood motionless in the hatchway to Riddick's stateroom. She stared at the mussed blankets, the bare metal bulkheads. He didn't even hurt me.

Kat stepped into the stateroom. She picked up the blue dress from the middle of the floor, the book she was slowly making her way through from beside the bunk, and an extra pillow. She looked into what had been Jack's quarters. No. Kat didn't belong in there.

Crossing the hallway, Kat entered Imam's deserted room, where she stowed her borrowed belongings. Down the passage, she could hear the door to Riddick's quarters close quietly. Then she shut the hatch inside her new quarters.

Yes, she could sleep here. The previous occupant had once been a trainer of pets, but he had turned his back on that past. If he could have changed--who could say that she would always be trapped in the life she had always known?

The very idea--she could barely wrap her mind around it--was something new.

What was it? If she held this new thing, it would be so small as to fit in the palm of her hand. So infinitesimal she would need a microscope to see it. She couldn't hold it, though, nor could she see it; but she thought that if she was somehow able to take out her heart and open it up, there would be a tiny, faraway star shining from deep inside.

Riddick's quarters on Janus were just as bare as before. Just as dark as before, too. No sign of either Imam or Jack, except for a note left nailed to the inside of the front door. The condition of the paper said it had been there for some time.

Riddick--

Come out to the grove of mushroom trees a few kilometers to the west of town, and bring Kat. Some old friends will meet you there.

Love,

Jack

They didn't bother to lock the door behind them.

The trees were different. Kat couldn't place how, but they didn't look the same. Something was not right with this. Her skin began to prickle, the fur at the back of her neck standing on end.

Riddick stalked past her, his hand hovering close to the dagger at his side. "Jack?" his rough voice called. "Jack? Imam?"

A low moan started, so low Kat could barely hear it at first. The note traveled upward, ending sharply in a screech.

"Fuck!" Riddick yelled, drawing his dagger. Then the whoops, clicks, and shrieks began, the air suddenly crowded with leathery wings. Somewhere in the maelstrom, Kat saw Riddick's blade knocked from his hand. She screamed.

Seven pairs of wings stilled, as seven creatures alit in a tight circle around their prey. Kat huddled back-to-back against Riddick, gasping. The creature closest rose up, balancing on its split, twitching tail. Talons spread, revealing the shooting spines. Its hammer head swayed in time to its low clicking. Needle teeth snapped together in a demented parody of a grin.

"Fuck this," Riddick growled.

Some long-dormant part of Kat's mind, behaviors she could barely remember, told her what Riddick would do. That he would die here. So she had to make sure he didn't--she owed that much to Jack, at least.

The monster was dead before it hit the ground. But none of the other creatures stirred, other than their hypnotically swaying heads. Kat's claws ached.

"Why don't they do something?" She stared owlishly at the circle of monsters, then murmured, "They always do something."

It took her a moment to realize that Riddick was laughing. "You know, Spots, this is the first time I've really seen you in action. But somehow, I don't think that was the brightest idea."

"Not the brightest idea? I just saved your--" Something inside her finally broke loose. Dry claws ripped across his stomach; when he doubled over, her knee caught him in the jaw.

Then iron talons seized her from behind by her wrists; a muscular tail coiled around her waist, and she was lifted, struggling, into the air.

Riddick was still on the ground, clutching his stomach, as she was taken higher. It must have been terror that made her think he was still laughing. Laughing, as the circle of monsters closed around him.