THREE DAYS LATER

Riddick turned on the COM system in 'his' skiff. His training hadn't taken long, since everything they had tried teaching him he had already known. The only things he really had to 'study' on, so to speak, were the logistics of the whole mission. A shipment of guages had been captured on its way to 565 and Riddick was to take its place. Riddick knew he could get away with it, as long as the Company wasn't trying to dick him over.

If he killed Ruiz, he pleased the Company but pissed off the locals. If he decided to become a free man of his own will, he pissed off the Company who would probably ride in on their high horses, kill everyone with a guage and own the asses of anyone left over. He couldn't tell Ruiz what the deal was with him and the Company - he'd be shived in his sleep within the first day.

'Fuck,' he thought to himself, clenching his teeth. 'This might get messy. I guess it's a good thing that I'm used to shit like that.'

A crackling sound issued forth from the COM system.

'Change the fucking frequency, asshole,' Riddick thought irritably. Things like that usually didn't get to him, but his sensitivity level was high. This was a dangerous mission, and he knew that if he didn't figure out what to do, he would be skull-fucked from every angle in the end.

"Unidentified skiff, you are entering landing area of planet 565 of the Nazarek system. I repeat, this is an unfriendly landing site. You may not land here."

"Control, this is Rebel666. I got a scheduled shipment of gauges specially made for you and yours."

"I'm sorry sir," the voice came over the intercom. "I don't know what you are talking about. You may not land here Rebel666. Turn back, or we will use necessary force to keep you from landing here."

"Sun a star on a nothing's back," Riddick replied into the set. That was the code the Company had given him to land on the planet.

'Christ this had better work.'

It was one thing to defend yourself on the ground, but Riddick's skiff didn't have any outer weaponry, and he was defenseless if they decided to shoot him out of space. He was reassured when the returning voice was friendly.

"Welcome aboard, Rebel666. You just bought yourself access to landing dock 35. It's nice to have some support down here. Got our asses in a sling waiting for those weapons."

"Glad to be of assistance," Riddick said. He was getting a headache. "Rebel666 out."

"Control out."

He looked out the front window of the skiff to the planet below. A gray mass of lifeless dirt, accented here and there by docking bay doors.

Slowly Riddick maneuvered the skiff towards docking bay 35, labeled by large red numbers on the outer doors. After admitting Riddick, they shut immediately behind the skiff.

'Little paranoid are we guys?'

He supposed he would be too. Setting down the landing gear, he slowly set the ship down. Under normal circumstances he wouldn't baby the ship, but this was his ticket out of here if everything went well.

Punching buttons, he opened the skiff door and stood on the end, riding down until it hit the floor. Looking around behind his goggles, he took in everything. People hustled everywhere, unloading other skiffs and putting things away. Stone floor, shelves attached to every inch of open wall space. Toolboxes, parts packages, and cigarette butts littered the floor. To an untrained observer's eye, it would look like the epitome of unorganization, but Riddick could see that everyone had a place to go and a job to do. And that was really what organization was.

The door touched the stone floor almost without sound, and Riddick stepped off. He wondered if anyone was going to approach him or not. In all truth, he had no idea of how things went here. All his questions were answered with a voice.

"Rebel666, welcome aboard." Riddick's head darted towards the soft, feminine voice. She was shorter than Riddick, probably near 5'4". Her long brown hair hung in a plait down the middle of her back. Her skin was smooth and a little lighter than Riddick's, her face tiny. She almost looked delicate to Riddick, as if a gust of wind would blow her away. But he knew better. His eyes lingered on her tattoos. There was writing on her wrist, and an unidentifiable shape on her shoulder. The top of one tattoo showed itself over her small shirt. His eyes trailed down the length of her body. She wore boots, much like Riddick's.

'Work boots,' he observed. 'She's not just some desk jockey. She must be of some level of importance. Or at least she holds some level of activity.'

Her pants were black and equipped with many zippered pockets. The shirt she wore had no sleeves and was very short, comfortably stretching itself over an ample chest before showing a little of her smooth stomach. Muscles were apparent under the skin of her arms, stomach, and shoulders, though they didn't bulge.

Clearing her throat, she shifted her position, cocking a hip and crossing her arms over her chest where Riddick had been looking. He looked up to her face and realized that he couldn't look into her eyes. They were goggled like his, but her goggles were different. Smaller, to fit her face, and they shined as if they were new.

'Either that or she takes very good care of them,' Riddick thought.

"We both know I can't see your eyes," the woman said, "but just look at my goggles from now on hotshot. Got it?"

Riddick smirked at her. "Sorry to offend," he said.

Offering a hand, she cut the silence. "My name is Jack, and I'm in charge of the docking bays, among other things."

Riddick's forehead wrinkled in concentration.

'Jack? Where have I heard that name before? They told me my head might fucked up, but I can't remember anything. Goddamned quacks and their fucking drugs.'

Blinking hard behind his goggles, he put his non-emotional mask back on. He would have to lie about his name, at least until Dio died. He just hoped that no one here would know who he was. "Richardson. Bruce Richardson. Where do you want the shipment?"

"Oh, don't worry about that. My guys'll take care of it," she said, waving a hand at Riddick's skiff. "First order of business is to get you acquainted with everything." Jack smiled. "Follow me."

Riddick did as he was told and followed Jack through the hustle-bustle of the docking bays. Many times crews, loading or unloading shipments, stopped them. They asked her questions, she gave her orders. Riddick admired her professional attitude, even though he could sense that some of these men were more personal to Jack than just work partners.

'Pretty nice,' he thought to himself, a small smile twisting at the corner of his mouth. 'Not just her attitude either.'