Chapter 4
"So now what?" Jack made herself concentrate on the satchel she'd just dropped at her feet, just inside the small ship Riddick had led her into. An uneasy feeling was growing in the pit of her stomach. She wasn't sure if it was nervousness or excitement, and she wasn't sure, either, if she wanted to find out. He ignored her question. "Watch tower, this is Black Ranger requesting permission for takeoff from Dock A19."
"Black Ranger, permission granted. You're cleared to take off from runway Z641, Block 2. Safe flying, over," a voice crackled over the com system. Jack noted it was the guy she'd run into before. Probably just started his shift.
"Strap in," Riddick commanded. Damn. The only seat in which she could do so was the one right next to him. "Quickly," he pushed, "We're taking off right now." She nodded and complied, fumbling with the harness. She hadn't seen one this old. He glanced over at her and smirked. "Want some help?" She scowled over at him.
"I got it."
"You sure?" Another glare. He sighed and unbuckled himself, leaning next to her. Her eyes focused on a spot on the ceiling, partly to avoid his gaze, and partly to detach herself from the feeling of his hands so close to her crotch. Damn thing had to be a full-body harness. "Jack." She jumped as she heard the click. "Look at me." She sighed and met his eyes. He just looked at her for a while. Just as she was getting ready to ask him what the hell he was staring at, he returned to his seat, strapped in, and took the controls. She watched his hands. Those hands had killed countless people, ended lives slowly and cruelly, and yet they were graceful and, in a way, beautiful.
The nervousness grew as they neared the runway, and almost spilled over as the ship picked up speed. She nearly called out for him to stop, let her off, but then felt the landing gear pull away from the ground and knew she had to give him his week. There was no turning back now.
"Jesus," she gasped, grasping the sides of her seat with all her strength as the turbulence kicked in. She glanced over at the man looming in the seat next to her. His brows were knitted in concentration, his massive arms tensed, flexing.
"This is why I told you to strap in," he commented. "Kallipolis is known for its shitty atmospheric pressure. It's bitch to land on, and a bitch to take off from." She nodded, falling silent again. "Good evening, lady and gentleman," Riddick said, a quirky grin falling over his features. "This is your captain speaking. Please return your trays to their upright and locked position, buckle your seatbelts, and hang on to your asses. Estimated time of arrival is oh-230 hours, three weeks from now. Please keep all extremities within the confines of the spacecraft and enjoy your stay. Thank you for flying Black Ranger." She just stared over at him, the corners of her mouth tugging upwards just a touch.
"I can not believe you just said that," she said, barely containing the snicker. He grinned over at her.
"Like that, huh?"
"Don't flatter yourself."
"I was saving it for just this occasion," he continued. She sighed.
"So, Captain," she said, pronouncing the word as one would emphasize the word manure. "Can I take this damn harness off and find someplace to take a nap?"
"Not yet. Let me get to where I can set the autopilot and program our course." Her eyebrow rose, and he glanced over at her quickly before returning his attention to the nearing break between Kallipolis' atmosphere and open space. "Might still be some turbulence. Don't want you getting banged up because of it."
"I'm not fragile."
"I know that, Jack," he sighed. "Just trust me." She sighed and flopped back into her seat, staring at the stars as they grew closer. The constant drone of the engines and the hum of the air pressurizer were starting to make her eyelids grow heavy. Just as she was about to drift off, the ship lurched. Her stomach fell through the floor without asking permission. Her hands went to her stomach, and then to her head. "You okay?" She just groaned. "Simulated gravity can be a bitch, huh?" Another groan. He looked over at her. "Jack?" She shook her head. "Uh, you're actually visibly green." A sweat was starting to break out. He sighed and set their course, flipping the switch to turn over to autopilot before reaching out to her. Her skin was cold and clammy. "Damn." He shook his head and stood.
"Do not pick me up," she warned.
"Can you walk?"
"Just leave me here for a second."
"Jack—"
"Jesus Christ, Riddick. Just fucking leave me here for now, okay?" He held up his hands, but they darted back out as her nose started a dive bomb to the floor. He scooped her up into his arms and stood. "Riddick, please," she whispered, now shaking. "Put me down."
"You need to lie down, Jack," he said quietly.
"I know that," she returned, "but if you don't put me down right now, I'm gonna puke on you." He stopped walking to look at her. "Seriously." He didn't move. "Now, Riddick. Put me down now." He complied, supporting her as she slid to the floor. Concern was etched across his face. She'd gone from a sickly green color to completely white, her skin shiny and damp. She moaned, pressing her forehead harder into the floor. "Blanket," she mumbled. He disappeared to find one, and when he returned, she was trembling.
"Jack, can you sit up?" She shook her head slightly. "Jesus," he moaned. "If I'd known you'd be like this I would have—"
"What?" she interjected. "Bought a new gravity simulator? How old is this thing anyway?"
"A few years," he smirked.
"Christ. Gotta be older than me." He shushed her, wrapping the blanket around her.
"Sit up," he ordered. She moaned in protest, but pushed herself up slightly. He pulled the blanket completely around her and picked her up again.
"Riddick—" she warned. And then it happened. He stopped in his tracks, holding her close to him to keep her from wretching herself out of his arms. He'd seen some violent pukers in his time, but she took the cake. She didn't just vomit, she ralphed from her toes. Luckily, he'd picked her up so that her face pointed away from them.
"Feel better?" he asked, once she'd quieted.
"Not really." He smiled.
"Well, at least I can get you into bed," he shrugged, stepping over the puddle she'd just made.
"I'm sorry," she whispered. He shook his head.
"Don't be. You'll get used to it." She snorted.
"Promise me something," she asked.
"What?"
"That you'll replace that thing at the next stop." His shoulders shook with his laughter. "Don't laugh. You're making me dizzy again." He smiled sympathetically, pushing the door to her quarters open with a boot. She sighed heavily as he gently lowered her onto the bed, fluffing the pillow around her head. She let a disconcerted "ungh" out as he shifted her to remove her boots. "Don't fuss over me," she pleaded. He dropped her boots on the floor next to her bed and sat next to her, running his fingers over her forehead.
"You gonna make it?" he asked quietly.
"I dunno," she moaned. "Have to wait and see." He chuckled.
"You better," he warned. "I might just feel a little guilty about talking you into this if you croak on me." Her eyes fluttered open.
"Really." It was more of a challenge than a question, and she let her eyes close slowly again as he nodded slowly.
"Get some sleep." She nodded. "You'll feel better." She felt the bed shake as he stood and groaned. He shook his head and closed the door silently behind him.
***
Jack groaned as she rolled over to look at the clock, her brows furrowing as she realized it wasn't there. Fuck. It all came back to her… the docking bay, Riddick. Ah, shit. The puking episode. Damn, damn, damn. She shook her head and sat up, looking around the room. It was small, but not tiny. Boring, to be complimentary. Rust was crawling up one corner and onto the ceiling. Metal, built-in furniture. No rugs or anything. Homey, she thought with a mental snicker. She gasped as her bare feet made contact with the cold metal floor. Definitely have to buy some rugs, she thought, making a mental note to herself.
She rubbed her head, inadvertently tousling her hair. Her socks were sticking out of the tops of her boots, and she snatched them up, wrenching them onto her feet and cursing herself for not splurging on new socks – all the ones she owned had holes in them.
Her shoulder popped as she tried to open the door to her room. It wouldn't budge. She tried again, but it didn't even move enough to rattle. Her toes screamed at her after she kicked it, but still nothing.
"Fuck," she muttered. "Riddick?" No answer. "Riddick?" Louder this time. Then, at the top of her lungs, "RIDDICK!" Nothing. "Fuck!" Her eyes flitted around the room, searching for something, anything. Damn. "Com system. Intercom. Where the fuck is—" she whispered to herself, searching the walls. Next to the door, a small raised box with a button and a light. She pressed it. "Riddick?" Shit. Press and hold? "Riddick?"
"Yeah?"
"Why did you lock me in my fucking room?" she demanded.
"I didn't." Her eyebrow rose.
"Well, I can't get out."
"Are you sure?"
"Of course I'm God damn sure, you motherfucker. Let me out!" Punching the wall probably wasn't a good idea. The box fell out and hung by the wires. "Piece of shit ship." Her head snapped to the door as the knob rattled. She heard him swear.
"Jack?"
"What?"
"You try pulling and I'll push. Maybe we can get it unstuck." She had to strain to understand him. The walls were thick enough to muffle everything.
"Okay," she yelled. Her hands slipped and she went crashing backwards.
"You okay?" She rubbed her head and swore as she stood.
"Yeah. Might want to try something else," she suggested. She heard him try to kick it in, but nothing happened. "Damn."
"I'll be right back," she heard him say. Silence, and then a few minutes later, he banged on the door. "Jack?"
"Yeah."
"Get away from the door." Her eyebrow rose, and she complied, backing up a few steps. "Far away from the door, Jack."
"Okay," she said, sitting on the bed. "Fuck." He started up a drill. "God damn it." It took a while, but eventually, she saw the drill break through, and the knob fell to the floor. With a shove, he reeled into the room.
"You okay?" She just scowled up at him, her knees drawn up to her chest, her back against the wall at the head of the bed. "Guess we shouldn't close that, huh?" Her scowl deepened. He scratched his head. "I, uh." He forced a small smile. "I guess this thing needs a little more work than I thought."
"You just had to buy a project piece of shit, didn't you?" He shrugged. "Are we even going to make it to where ever we're going?"
"Hope so." She jumped off the bed and flounced toward him.
"You hope so?"
"Hey, chill out."
"You HOPE so?"
"Jack, calm down." She sighed and leaned her head against the wall.
"What have I gotten myself into?" He chuckled and reached out to smooth her tousled hair. She jerked away from him. "Don't touch me." He let his arm drop to his side. "Do you at least have a shower with hot water?" He pointed down the hallway.
"Second door on the right." She blinked at the word door. "I promise, that one doesn't get stuck." She shook her head and shoved past him, slamming the bathroom door behind her. He just stared after her.
***
"Feel better?" She jumped slightly at his voice. He didn't look up from his charts, even to sip whatever was in his mug.
"Much."
"Good." She peered over the table.
"Anything interesting?" He shrugged.
"Just charting our next course." That reminds me…she thought
"Got a question for ya," she said.
"Shoot."
"Your little spiel." He looked up at her. "When we were taking off." He nodded.
"What about it?"
"You said ETA was three weeks from now." His eyebrow rose. "That's longer than a week."
"Chronological time, yes. Starjumping, it'll be about two days."
"So you tricked me."
"Jack—"
"So, chronological time, how long will it take you to convince me I'm so needed around here?" She paused, but didn't let him answer. "I mean, granted, judging from what I've seen so far, you need some serious work done around here, but I agreed to a week. If we're talking a week starjumping time, what's that gonna translate to in chronological time?" He shrugged. "And this isn't equipped with cryochambers, so it's not like it'll be the experience of a week starjumping time, it'll feel like however long the translation to chronological time will be." She shook her head.
"I'm sorry, Jack. I didn't think about that."
"What are you hiding up your sleeve, Riddick?" she asked, her eyes narrowing. He looked down at himself.
"I don't have any sleeves, Jack."
"Don't be an ass."
"I didn't think about it, Jack. I'm sorry." She sighed. He sat there for a moment, considering what he should say. "Do you want me to turn around?" Her eyes met his.
"What happened to your eyes?"
"Contacts," he answered. "Do you want me to turn around and take you back?"
"No."
"Are you sure?"
"No." He sighed.
"What do you want me to do, Jack?" She shook her head.
"What's in the mug?"
"Coffee." She wrinkled her nose. "Got some tea in there somewhere. I can—"
"I'll make it," she said quickly. He shrugged and went back to his charts. She returned a few minutes later, mug in hand, dipping the tea bag as the steam rose.
"If I take you back as soon as I finish this run," he said, not looking up from the maps spread out in front of him, "it'll be about seven weeks." He paused and looked up at her. "Chronological time."
"We'll see," she said quietly, suddenly staring into her mug.
"What do you mean, 'we'll see'?" She shook her head. "Does that mean we'll see if you stay once I finish the drop and you make me leave you there, or we'll see if you stay after the drop and we'll make it longer than a starjumping week?" She shrugged.
"We'll see," she repeated. He grunted. "What's with you, anyway?" she asked.
"What do you mean?" He turned his attention back to the maps.
"Big Evil traveling with someone. It's not like you."
"You made an impression."
"Really." No reply. "It's odd to think of you caring about someone." His pencil stopped moving, poised in space, so to speak.
"Well, what's with you?"
"Hmm?"
"Still parading around as a boy?" Her tea bag dropped into her mug with a quiet ploop. "I figured you would have dropped that act once you were old enough to do things on your own."
"I've been doing things on my own for a while now, Riddick," she answered quietly.
"Yeah, but you're old enough now that people know not to mess with you."
"Female is female. Weak, vulnerable target." He looked up at her.
"You really believe that?" She shrugged.
"I don't know. I just never really had the desire to do all the girly shit." He snickered, looking back down at his work.
"You don't have to do all the 'girly shit' to be feminine, you know."
"Why are we even having this conversation?" she asked, pinching the bridge of her nose. He shrugged.
"Just wondered."
"You wanna know why?" He looked up at her again. "I got used to pretending to be a guy. It's comfortable. I feel safer this way. I fit in this way." He set his pencil down. "This is who I've become because this is what's kept me alive to see my twenty-second birthday in the near future." Riddick stood and leaned against the table, directly in front of her. She instinctively took a step backward.
"Who we are and who people see us as are two completely different things, Jack," he said gently.
"Saying that about yourself?"
"About everyone, Jack." Her eyebrow arched. "Everyone has their secrets. You, me, everyone. We all have an image we project to other people, whether it's for pride or protection." He paused pensively. "Don't let your image take over who you are."
"Why?" her voice cracked slightly.
"Because then I won't know you." She couldn't think of anything to say, so she just stood there, looking at him. He took a breath, as if he were going to say something, but then let it out in a long, slow sigh.
"There's rust growing in my room," she said quietly.
"That was random, but yeah, I know." He returned to his seat and picked up his pencil again. "I figured once we dock, we can start taking care of the serious stuff and do the superficial crap later." She nodded.
"What about the door?" He paused.
"I don't know."
"Well, I'm gonna go take it off." He looked up at her. She smiled. "I might try to close it again if it's still hanging." He nodded, and watched her turn to leave. Once she was gone, he dropped his pencil onto the table and rubbed his eyes.