Chapter 17
Riddick felt the anger rising, the veins in his neck pulsating visibly. The vent got warmer the more he watched, but he didn't move, fighting to keep himself there instead of blowing the whole thing. He didn't, after all, know about this as far as the situation was concerned, and he'd risk both of them if he suddenly changed his mind. So he watched. The bit about this guy trying to protect her surprised him. He figured Twosy had known the guy at some point and he was the reason this Chris dude was helping with the escape. Granted, he was an ex-con and knew the system, but still.
"Just make it out of here alive." Riddick's eyebrow rose. It really did sound like Chris had a soft spot for Sarge. He was beginning to wonder what Sarge would have said if it turned out the guy could pilot. That thought was quickly abandoned, though, as the boots came off, dropped to the floor with a quiet thump. He didn't blink through the undressing, the infuriation rising closer and closer to the surface. When the moment of truth came, he buried his face in the crook of his arm. He couldn't close out the sounds, though, and the anger continued to rise as he listened to someone else make her make the sounds he'd drawn from her. Curiosity got the better of him, and he had to steal a glance, instantly kicking himself for giving in. She's actually enjoying it, he thought with a dark scowl. There's a difference between looking like you're enjoying it and actually enjoying it. He stole another glance, stifling a growl. And that's actually enjoying it. He couldn't take it any more. Silently, he backed away from the grate and crawled back through the vent system.
She didn't really want to, but she lay there with him for a while, the sheet pulled up over both of them as he cradled her against his side. Her eyes closed as he pressed his lips to her forehead.
"You didn't have to do this."
"I know," she said, lifting her head from his shoulder. He looked slightly apologetic, but she didn't press. Instead, she touched her lips lightly to his and she stood, knowing he would watch her dress.
"You're welcome to the shower, if you want one," he offered. She glanced over her shoulder at him.
"I think I'll take you up on that," she said with a small, but genuine smile. She disappeared into the bathroom, the door left open, and he rested his forearm over his eyes. She didn't waste time, only rinsing off quickly, before helping herself to a towel and dressing. "Thanks for the favor," she said quietly, bending down to put her boots on. He stood, pausing to pull his pants back on before walking to her side. He tucked her hair behind her ear, and she kissed him lightly.
"I'd like to see you again," he said quietly, tentatively. She looked down at her feet for a moment, then back up at him.
"Lose the job, track me down, and then we'll talk," she said before thinking. "That a promise?" he asked quietly.
"I said we'd talk," she said with a shrug. "No promises." He nodded with a small smile, but it fell quickly.
"Good luck." Her eyebrow rose, and he gave her a short kiss. "Go on," he said, nodding at the vent. "I'll take care of Daisy. They'll have to take him by your cell so you'll know." She nodded, stepping onto the table. Once in the grate, she waited in the grate again until she was sure he wouldn't squeal. She didn't think he would, but she wasn't taking any chances. He fell asleep, and she made her way back home, somehow relieved when she saw the grate leading to the canteen hallway. She listened, stole a few glances, and decided the coast was clear before pushing the grate out and crawling into the dark hallway. A sudden sickening feeling came over her and she paused in her stroll to heave into a corner, dropping to her knees as the tears sprang free. Shit. Just what I need. I've got a good three hallways to go down before I get home, and I'm fucking crying. Fan-fucking-tastic. She sniffed and wiped her cheeks, sticking to the shadows in the hallways.
Riddick smelled her at the end of the hallway, the anger rising into his throat again. He remained reclined on the bed, hands folded behind his head and ankles crossed, keeping his eyes closed. She paused in the hallway for a moment before entering and locking up, taking her boots and socks off before crawling onto her bed. Funny. I figured she'd try to cuddle up with me, he thought, cracking an eye open. She was lying on her side, facing the wall, her face hidden in the pillow.
"You okay?" She didn't answer. The cot groaned as he turned onto his side and sat up. "Did he hurt you?" She shook her head, but didn't say anything. "You looked like you were having fun," he said, his voice suddenly edgy. She sniffed, and the anger melted out of him. Shit. Just push it, Dick. Keep on pushing it. He sighed, watching her stiffen as he lay down behind her. He felt the silent sob she let out as he draped his arm over her, pulling her against him. She squeezed her eyes shut as his lips pressed to her shoulder.
"Don't," she said quietly, hoping her voice didn't quiver. "Don't touch me." He pulled back slightly, but didn't withdraw his arm.
"Are you okay?"
"Of course I'm not fucking okay," she snapped. His forehead crinkled. "I feel dirty, okay? I feel like a fucking whore, but we got the window, so leave me the fuck alone."
"Look at me."
"Fuck you."
"Look at me," he repeated, more firmly this time.
"You know what I look like," she retorted. "You fucking watched. Why the hell do you want me to look at you, you sick fuck."
"Just humor me, okay?" She sighed, shaking her head. He waited, rubbing his thumb back and forth over her arm. Finally, she turned over, staring up at him with hurt, angry eyes shimmering with unshed tears. "I'm sorry," he said quietly. She shook her head, waving him off.
"It had to be done," she said shakily, closing her eyes. "Why did you follow me?"
"I wanted to make sure he didn't hurt you," he answered quietly. Her eyes opened, searching his as a tear slid silently over her cheek.
"So why did you have to ask?"
"I had to leave earlier than I planned," he said with a dismissive shrug.
"Why?" Fuck. She just had to ask, didn't she?
"So I wouldn't kill him." Her eyebrow rose, but he didn't offer any more.
"Thanks."
"For what?"
"Not blowing it," she said quietly, her eyes falling from his. "That would have been bad." He smiled.
"Yeah," he said, leaning forward to kiss her forehead. "It would have."
"I'm tired."
"Go to sleep."
"I can't," she whispered. He pulled her closer, but she pressed her hand against him, trying to back away. "Don't." His eyes searched hers, but she quickly looked away, still pushing him away from her. "I want to sleep alone tonight." He nodded, giving her a final squeeze before standing to retreat to his own cot.
He woke to an empty room after a restless night's sleep, surprised he didn't hear her leave. Probably at the canteen, he thought, stifling a groan as he stood. Hooking his fingers into the straps of his goggles, he headed in that direction, popping his neck as he walked down the hallway. She was sitting in a corner, feet propped on the table, as she choked down the slop in her bowl. Evidently she was off in la-la land, as she didn't acknowledge his entrance into the brightened room.
"This seat taken?" he asked with a smirk, watching her jump. She shook her head, smiling slightly.
"Go for it."
"Better?" She shrugged, returning to the crap in her bowl. He dug in as well, fighting a cringe as the shit slid down his throat.
"So nice to see you, Sergeant," a voice called. They both glanced at the doorway, Sarge swearing under her breath. Daisy grinned at them, selecting his bowl.
"Can't have a meal without a fucking interruption," she muttered, glaring from behind dark goggles.
"Mind if I join you?" the convict asked, that suspicious grin still curling his lips.
"Actually, I do," Riddick said. "You're really not my type." Sarge snickered.
"Wasn't talkin' to you, now was I?" Daisy drawled.
"Might want to clarify next time," Riddick remarked with a shrug. "Never know who's who down here, if you know what I mean." Sarge grinned.
"It's okay, Riddick," she said quietly, biting back a smile at the look on Daisy's face as he finally found out her room mate's name. "He can sit here." Riddick's eyebrow rose. "I mean, I'm done, are you?" Riddick shrugged, dropping his spoon into his bowl.
"Yeah, I've had about all I can stand of this shit." Daisy scowled, and Sarge patted his shoulder.
"Don't take it personally, Daisy," she said lightly. "You just smell bad."
"That a fact?" he growled, reaching out to snatch a handful of hair. She yelped, jerked backward over the back of the chair beside him, and he found a very sharp hunk of metal pressed against his throat.
"I don't think you want to do that," Riddick stated.
"She needs to learn her place," Daisy pushed, stifling a gasp as the shiv pressed deeper against his skin.
"She knows her place," Riddick snarled. "You, on the other hand, still have some learning to do."
"She's fucking with my business." He jerked on her hair again, succeeding in making contact between her head and the corner of the metal table. Riddick pressed the blade against Daisy's throat, only hard enough to draw blood and a gasp, satisfied when Sarge's tresses were released, letting her fall to the floor. "Well, now what are you gonna do?" Daisy taunted, gritting his teeth as the blade went deeper.
"What the fuck is going on?" Riddick's head snapped up, and he released Daisy, giving him a shove hard enough to make him topple over a chair and land hard on his side with a grunt.
"Self-defense," Riddick started, holding his hands up.
"Drop the weapon," one of the guards warned, cocking the gun in his hand. Riddick complied, glancing down to make sure Sarge was okay. "Self-defense, huh?" he asked, nodding at the second guard to check Sarge out. Riddick only nodded. A third guard appeared as the second stooped. His weapon was trained on Daisy, who was grumbling to himself.
"She's out cold," the second guard said. Riddick recognized the voice and tried not to show it.
"Cellmate defense?" Riddick asked with a shrug.
"Against the wall," the first guard demanded. Riddick backed up until he felt the wall contact his skin, still holding his hands up. The guard patted him down, satisfied at finding no more weapons. Chris patted Sarge down, removing two shivs and pocketing them. Riddick was almost positive they'd show up in their stash room. The third searched Daisy, finding all sorts of items to confiscate, from weapons to drug paraphernalia.
"We're just here for Daisy," the third said. "This looks legit. She's still out." Riddick let out a silent sigh of relief.
"What the fuck?" Daisy gasped, but was smacked in the back of the head with the butt of a gun, hard enough to daze him without knocking him out.
"We know you ordered a hit on the Sergeant, so don't fucking fight it," the third growled. "I don't have any problems killing you."
"Take him to the hole," the first guard ordered. Daisy spit and sputtered, but was hauled to his feet and shoved through the room. "Don't worry," the first called, "you'll have plenty of company." They both glanced down as Sarge groaned, batting Chris away as she rolled over, her hand instantly going to the seeping wound on her head. The first guard kept Riddick against the wall, the gun still leveled at him, as Chris helped her to a chair. "You gonna behave yourself?" the first guard asked.
"Don't have a reason not to," Riddick said with a shrug, lowering his arms. The guard kept his gun trained on Riddick, but let Riddick sit next to Sarge to inspect the wound.
"Daisy ordered a hit on you," the first guard explained as Chris raised his gun to point at Sarge. Riddick scowled, but Chris, now out of the first guard's line of sight, winked to let him know it was okay. The scowl remained. "She needs to watch her back." Riddick nodded.
"She can handle herself," he said with a shrug.
"We should go," Sarge said, reaching back to touch the wound. She cringed, sighing at the spot of blood on her fingers. Riddick nodded. "Gotta stop by and pick shit up first." Another nod. She reached into her pocket, turning the chip over in her fingers before dropping it onto her bed. Riddick didn't even look at his before tossing it on his bed and nodding at the door. She followed him out, treading softly so the boots on her feet wouldn't thump. It seemed like everything was going in slow motion, and the stash room seemed so far away. They crawled through the opening, and Sarge started changing, tossing her boots into one of the backpacks stashed there, leaving her prison issues on the ground. Riddick's eyebrow rose as she pulled out a pair of camouflage cargos and a black beater. She shrugged. Next, she pulled on black elastic ankle braces and zipped up the large compartment of the pack. In the small front compartment, she stashed one of the concussion guns, tucking the other in the back of her pants. Riddick hid a few shivs on him, one of the concussion guns, and was reaching for the other pack, when she held out a hand.
"Twosy had cargos and a shirt in there too, if you want to change first. The cargos hold the guns better, and there's more pockets," she instructed quickly. "Never know what we'll find." He nodded, quickly changing and stashing again. She filled pockets in the bag with the water bottles and other items hidden in there, and tucked the codes in her back pocket. "Ready?" He nodded, then slipped through the opening and watching the hallways as she slipped the bags out to him. She replaced the grate to cover their tracks and nodded to a grate against the other wall in the corner. "In there," she whispered.
"Convenient," he mumbled to himself, pulling the grate away, and ushering her in before grabbing his pack and following. She crawled through the vent silently but hurriedly, never pausing at which turn to take. He grabbed her ankle, holding her in place, as voices drifted through a grate a few paces ahead. She nodded, creeping closer.
"Yeah, he beaned her good," someone said. Boots shuffled. "Good thing she knows how to stitch."
"Why's that?" someone else asked.
"Doc's dead." Sarge cringed. "Chris said he overheard someone talking about getting even for her shine."
"Bet it was Daisy," the other snorted. "Crazy fucker. Hell, I wouldn't even mess with her if I had two tazers ready to go."
"No joke," the first person continued. Riddick guessed they were guards. "But killing the doc is just wrong. Even convicts should know that."
"Well, Daisy ain't your usual convict," the second muttered. "He thinks on revenge, not respect."
"Convicts don't give a shit about respect." Sarge rolled her eyes, stifling an annoyed sign. "But a doctor's the best friend you could have down there." The voices were fading, and a door slammed. Sarge let out the sigh and started moving again. Riddick was dripping by the time the tunnel ended, and she paused, wiping her own forehead with a wrapped wrist. Feet shuffled nearby, and she continued to wait, staring out into whatever was beyond that grate. She glanced at him, but he couldn't deduce anything from it. After what seemed like an eternity, she slowly and silently pushed on the grate, shaking her head after a few tries. She reached down her leg and removed the screwdriver from a pocket. Riddick strained to reach out, cupping his hand under her working area in case the screw fell and she didn't catch it. If there were feet outside, there were guards outside, and it was quiet enough to hear a screw against vent metal. She put the screws in his hand, depositing them in a pocket, and she waited again until the timing was right.
After another eternity, she tried again, successfully this time, and they slithered out noiselessly. Riddick darted behind a stack of boxes, keeping watch as Sarge replaced the grate. Shit. This is the hangar, he thought, glancing around. She's good. Her bootless feet moved silently across the hard floor as she joined him behind the cargo.
"You hungry Jake?" Riddick strained to hear. "I'm going to the cafeteria. Want to come?"
"Someone has to stay here."
"Well, shit, who's gonna come in here at three in the morning?" No answer, so probably a shrug. "What Anders doesn't know won't kill him." Sarge nodded. "I don't plan on taking much time. Ten minutes alone isn't gonna phase a fuckin' hangar, Jake. It doesn't matter. No flights are in or out for another hour." A chair groaned as it scraped across the floor, presumably away from a table, and two pairs of boots thudded closer, then further away.
"Did you see the game last night?" the guard evidently named Jake asked. It was the last sentence they heard of the conversation as the guards walked away. Sarge peeked around the corner of the box hiding them and her eyes darted around. Shit. Camera. She nodded at the camera, and Riddick nodded. They watched for a few moments, waiting until they were in a blind spot, and found another place to hide until the camera wasn't watching. Finally, she led him to a small ship, and smiled. He reached for the hatch lock and she shook her head. She ducked down, crawling under the vessel, and produced the screwdriver again to remove the access panel. It was removed quickly, and she hoisted herself up, motioning for Riddick to follow. He ducked into the pilot's seat and started taking in the control panel as she replaced the access panel. His hand was reaching out to touch, but hers darted out to grasp his elbow, shaking her head. His eyebrow rose, and she handed him the paper with the codes, tapping on a small screen with "ENTER CODE FOR ACCESS," followed by a blinking square. She leaned over his shoulder and typed in the first code on the paper, swearing under her breath when it was rejected. Three more later, and they were in, the ship humming to life.
"We have to hurry," Riddick whispered. She nodded, crouching in front of the keypad.
ENTER CODE FOR SYSTEM OVERRIDE, and another blinking square. She tried two before she found the right one.
"We have five tries," she explained. Three codes left on the paper, so there was no worry of setting off alarms, only being discovered.
ENTER CODE FOR LAUNCH. Blinking square. Code entered, accepted, and the ship was taxied out to the launch pad. Riddick watched as the bubble retracted.
ENTER CODE FOR MANUAL/AUTO PILOT. Blinking square. "Shit."
"Let me see," he said, taking the paper she'd snatched from his hand. He skimmed the last two codes, sorting through his brain, finally pointing. She glanced up at him and he nodded, so she entered the code.
MANUAL PILOT CONFIRMED. MANUAL LAUNCH READY. Blinking square. She strapped into the seat next to him, gasping as the taxi lock on their landing gear ground as the ship was released. His hands took the controls, and hers gripped the arms of the chair as the engines roared to life, glancing out the small back window to see the bubble reappear. Still no sign of the guards. She turned back to the front window and grinned, but it fell as her eyes fell on his scowl. It wasn't just concentration on the takeoff. This was too easy.