Chapter 22
Riddick was asleep in the pilot's chair, feet propped up on the control panel, ankles crossed. Every now and then a muscle would twitch involuntarily, and he'd grumble quietly, shift slightly, and settle down again. It was dark outside, a violent storm brewing nearby, and only now and then would a sound pierce the silence, either leaves shaking or insects chirping. His eyes opened, and his chin turned slowly over his shoulder. The door next to him rattled, and he stood, the chair groaning in protest.
"It's Tim," came a voice muffled behind the steel door. He groaned, rubbing his eyes before pulling the door open.
"What?"
"You need to see this." Riddick's eyebrow rose as Tim hurried into the cockpit, letting the door slam angrily behind him. Riddick sighed, slightly annoyed, as Tim fumbled with a storage cartridge, eyes searching for the connection. Riddick stuck out a hand and twitched his fingers, satisfied when Tim's shaking hands deposited the cartridge in his. He dropped himself into the chair again and loaded the material, pressing a few buttons to focus the image. It was a newscast. Tim's foot tapped nervously on the floor, but stopped when Riddick glanced at it.
"The escaped convict, Dakota Corbett, has been captured." Riddick swore as a picture of her flashed on the screen, replacing the holographic news anchor briefly. He'd told her she should stay low for a while. "During an attack on Warden Anders of the maximum prison called Asphyxia, a guard managed to alert Company authorities. Company thwarted the assassination attempt, and Corbett, a former Army Ranger Sergeant, was taken into custody, transported to Company holding for questioning. We will report any additional information as it is declassified and released." Riddick saved the broadcast on the cruiser's hard drive and removed the cartridge, handing it back to Tim.
"What are you going to do?" Tim asked quietly. Riddick was quiet for a moment.
"Anders is still alive," he said slowly. Tim only nodded. "She's in a Company holding facility." Another slow nod from Tim. "No fucking way can we get her out of there."
"You can't just let them hold her, Riddick," Tim snapped. "Do you have any idea what Company would do with a deserted Army Ranger turned serial killer?" Riddick's eyes flashed up to Tim's quickly. Deserted? "They won't kill her, I can tell you that much." Riddick grunted in agreement.
"How much money you got?"
"What?" Tim's face registered his confusion.
"It'll cost a pretty penny to buy her. How much do you have?"
"Not enough," Tim answered, catching onto the plan.
"Can you hack?"
"Into what?"
"Bank," Riddick said with a shrug. "Create a false account with virtual money? We could set up a wire transfer, and you could go pick her up." Tim's eyebrow rose.
"Why me?" Riddick sent him a look, and Tim instantly kicked himself. Company would recognize Riddick. "Yeah, give me a few days." Riddick nodded in satisfaction.
"Good."
"What about you?"
"What about me?" Riddick asked with a slight shrug.
"What are you planning?" Shit. Tim knew he was up to something. But how?
"Got some unfinished business," Riddick gruffed.
"Anders," Tim whispered. His guess went unacknowledged.
Kody sighed, craning her neck to get a better look at her restraints. She shook her head, letting her head drop to her chest, stretching her angry shoulders. The chains clanged a metallic song as she stretched what she could. A slow drip of water broke the silence intermittently, grating on her nerves. Probably intentional, she thought with a grimace. She felt the blood dried on her forehead, guessing from the tenderness in her face she was bruised more than she was cut. She licked her lips, hissing as she broke her split lip back open, the copper tickling her taste buds. Beautiful. A small trickle of blood ran down each of her forearms, dripping off the elbow as the flow continued from the restraints digging into her wrists. Maybe that's what the dripping sound is, she mused, watching through the darkness to see that it wasn't the case.
"Fuck!" Her outburst shattered the silence, overpowering that damn drip, and the lights flickered as they came to life again. She whimpered in pain, squeezing her eyelids shut, but it wasn't enough. Damn it to hell. Punishment for lack of silence. Once she quieted down long enough for their liking, the lights flickered off again. She was actually quite surprised they didn't issue the punishment for her stomach growling as loudly as it did. Stupid me, had to rush to finish business. She shook her head, her face twisting in a sour, disgusted expression. Serves you right, you overconfident, arrogant, sloppy bitch. Another heavy sigh, this time slightly stifled. She stared up at the ceiling for a while, trying repeatedly to push Riddick's face from her mind. If he heard about this, he's probably more disappointed than I am. Failed your mission, soldier. She shook her head. No, he's thinking more along the lines of 'got lazy, got caught.' She glanced down at the door, and then focused on the drain in the middle of the floor. Interesting. Her eyes continued scanning the holding cell, as they had done for the past four hours. No food yet, no water yet, and she was starting to get tired. The shackles prevented her from sleeping, as they would cut in more and more the greater the weight of her limbs bore down on them. Damn it. She groaned inwardly as keys jangled outside the door. Ready for another round already, fellas? It's only day one.
Riddick watched from a corner as Tim typed furiously at the computer. He'd had to work in shifts, since the library had time limits for computer use. They'd been skipping around the city, visiting the computer centers in succession for four days, and Tim was getting close. If he didn't finish during the next shift, they'd have to make the rounds from the beginning again, and that would probably draw attention. Riddick, on the other hand, would only touch the computer once a day, checking news stories and trying to get into classified Company files and hospital records, trying to find out what he could about Anders' location and state, and any new information on Kody. He couldn't have gotten through an attempt by her without a scratch. Hell, he might not have even made it.
Riddick sighed heavily and occupied the computer station across from Tim, who glanced up and managed a small, wry smile. He was almost there. The nod Riddick granted him was barely noticeable, but he caught it. But Riddick still had one more hospital to check. He printed the document, cleared the computer's history and stored files, and dropped the paper in front of Tim before leaving the library. Tim didn't watch, instead working faster. Time was dwindling. She wouldn't be alive much longer.
"Good morning, Sergeant Corbett." She rolled her eyes, leaning against the wall, fighting the urge to rest her elbows on her head to relieve the pressure on her back. No weakness. "Mind if I call you Sarge?"
"Yeah, actually," she ground out from between dry, cracked lips. Her throat was tight. "I do." Judging by the markings on his uniform, he was high up in the Company ranks. Goodie.
"Well, then, Sarge," his eyes flitted up to hers, seemingly satisfied at the glare she sent him, "how are we feeling this morning?"
"Well, first off it's kinda hard to tell it's morning without any fucking windows." A nod, and a female grunt as a night stick was jammed into her ribs.
"Watch your mouth," the officer warned, glancing through a clipboard on his lap. She laughed, biting back a grimace at the pain coursing through her side. That'll leave a mark. "You were saying?" He met her eyes again. No fear. Interesting. Then again, I am chained up, and he's sitting in a chair a good ten feet from me, so he's got a bit of a reason to feel safe. Grand.
"Second off, there's only one prisoner in here, so the term 'we' doesn't really apply." And damn the term anyway. 'We' is not a word with any meaning attached. If it were, Riddick would have gotten me the fuck out of here by now. Probably figures it serves me right just like I do. The officer merely nodded, writing on a form on the clipboard in his lap. "Any new questions for me, or are you just going to repeat the old ones?"
"I only have one question for you, Dakota." Her eyebrow quirked in defiance as his eyes met hers. "Where's Riddick?"
"I don't know what you're talking about." She thought it was believable, but the officer didn't, nodding to the guard at her side again. Another good whack in the same place, and she didn't bother stifling the groan. "Mind changing sides next time?" she gasped. The guard only chuckled evilly.
"One more time, Dakota," the officer said quietly, capturing his pen under the spring loaded clip on his clipboard. "Where is Riddick?"
"I don't know. And don't fucking hit me again," she snapped, watching the guard wind up for another blow. "I honestly don't know where he is."
"Where did you see him last?"
"Out of curiosity, what makes you think I've seen him at all?" She glanced at the guard again, and, noting the twitch in his shoulder, added quickly: "then I'll tell you." The officer shook his head, and the guard lowered his club.
"You were assigned a cell with him in Slam 1640, or as you call it, Asphyxia, and you escaped the same time he did." He paused, leaning forward a little. "And don't tell me it was a coincidence." She laughed quietly, shaking her head.
"He dumped me off at Helion Two, and I caught my own transport to Castia, laid low for a while, and then ran into you lovely people." The club connected again, and black dots clouded her vision. It was going to be hard to stand up straight for a while. "Last time I saw him was on Helion Two, I swear." Her voice was weak, bruised ribs preventing her from taking a full breath. "He didn't tell me where he was going. We weren't friends."
"That's not what I heard," the officer drawled. She spat, tasting the blood, and wiped her lips on a bared forearm. "Rumor has it you two were pretty close."
"Yeah, well," she said with a shrug, "relationships change with the environment." His eyebrow rose.
"Elaborate." It wasn't a request.
"He needed me to get out, so he used me and dropped me." She winced, shifting her weight to alleviate some of the pain from her bruised ribs. "I expected it, and I played him back." He only stared at her, unbelieving. "Look, I've always worked alone, and he's always worked alone. This time, neither of us could, so we used each other. He did me a favor by getting me to Helion Two. Hell, I expected him to kill me once I got him to the ship."
"Why didn't he?" She snickered.
"Believe it or not, convicts understand respect." Her eyes met his, holding his stare evenly. "Unlike Company." The club's contact with the back of her skull echoed, but she wasn't conscious to hear it, or even feel the blood running down her arms again, the cuffs holding her wrists slicing into already scarring skin.
"Warden Anders, please." Riddick watched Tim's face as he spoke, the phone encoded and pre-paid. Tim's eyes darted around, carefully watching their surroundings. "My name is David Migglione, I'm inquiring about a prisoner." His eyes met Riddicks for an instant, and then returned to scanning. "Thank you." Riddick waited. "Warden, I'm so glad you're feeling better." He could hear talking on the other end, but couldn't decipher the words. "I understand you're trying to get rid of the prisoner?" Tim nodded. "I have a business proposition for you, then." Tim grinned. "I'd like to take her off your hands, actually… No, no, she'll be kept secure, I assure you that… How much do you want?" Tim scribbled something on his notepad and showed Riddick, whose eyes widened in surprise. "That won't be a problem, Warden… Oh, you have my sincerest promise… Oh, no, she'll be a gift for a cousin of mine. He enjoys the wild ones. Unfortunately they don't stay wild long, and then, well, I'm sure you get the picture… Absolutely… I'll send one of my security personnel as soon as I can… That won't be a problem at all. We can get her in good enough shape to pass on without a problem during transport… No, thank you." Tim hung up the phone and relayed the conversation in warp speed.
Kody teetered in and out of consciousness for a while, never sure when or where she was, only knowing she was locked up again. When she woke fully, her fingers were numb, her back ached, and her head swam. She sighed, swore under her breath, and struggled to stand up enough to lean back against the wall instead of being held up by her chains. This time, she rested her elbows on her head and wiggled her fingers, slowly bringing them back to life. God, I must look like I survived an assassination attempt myself, she thought with a wry smirk. It fell quickly. Dizziness took over as she adjusted the vertebrae in her neck, and she slumped back against the wall. Her stomach no longer gurgled, begging for food – it knew it wasn't getting any. Has to have been five or six days now, she thought, shaking her head slightly. Won't last much longer this way.Her legs quivered, and she couldn't tell if the positioning of her arms or the lack of food was making her belly dip inwards. Not good. She heard the groaning of water pipes and sighed in relief. Water. The shower overhead came to life, spraying stagnant water over her, but at least it was water. She tilted her head back, catching as much as she could before it shut off again. All she could capture was a mouthful, but it was better than nothing. The cell was silent again. She shifted her rear end against the wall, finally finding a big enough crack to rest the bottom seam of her waistband in and relax a little.
"I'm a little teapot, short and stout," she sang quietly, looking around the room. She paused, sighing. "Here is my handle." She looked over at an arm. "Well, shit. My handle's broken," she noted. A shrug. "Here is my spout." She did what she could – curved her other hand outward. "When I get all steamed up, hear me SHOUT!" Her voice echoed, and she paused, a satisfied smile sliding across tattered lips, drawing more blood. She didn't notice. "Tip me over and pour me out." More voice was given to her sigh than needed. "Walk like an Egyptian," she continued. "Way-oh-way-oh-ooo-way-oh-way-oh." She snickered at herself. Definitely cracking. Fuck. Her stomach spasmed, and she indulged, dry heaving as she felt the restraints cut in and heard the chains rattling. Not a good sign. It was her last thought before she passed out again. Hours later, muffled voices brought her to, but she couldn't focus enough to make them out.
"How long has she been chained up?" Tim tried to keep the anger out of his voice, masking it with concern instead.
"Little over a week," the guard answered. "She's a rowdy one, take it from me."
"I've heard." Tim stepped into the holding cell, eyes still lingering on the form chained to the wall. Hair was matted with blood, which was also dried on skin and metal. Clothes were too big, hanging from trembling shoulders and hips, bare feet dirty and broken as well. He clicked his tongue. "I expected her to be in bad shape, but this…" he trailed off, shaking his head.
"Change your mind?" Tim turned, watching the Company weasel waltz into the room.
"No, I'm just surprised, actually."
"Why's that?"
"She's barely alive," Tim said, nodding at the woman slumped against restraints.
"She's transportable now," the officer said coldly. "Roger here will carry her to your ship. We've confirmed the wire transfer. The prisoner is yours." Tim nodded to the guard, watching him approach the prisoner and unfasten the restraints, letting her collapse to the stone flooring. "God rest your soul," the officer added, disappearing down a hallway. A door slammed, and Tim reminded himself he only had a few meters to the ship, and they were in the clear. She was tossed over the guard's shoulder, and Tim led him back to the ship.
"I'll take her," Tim said quietly, gingerly taking Sarge from the guard. "Thank you for your time and patience." The guard gruffed with a nod and watched Tim walk up the ramp, remaining until it was closed and the ship took off.
Tim placed Sarge in a seat, strapping her in next to him. Once she was secure, he did a quick once-over for major injures as his patch went through to his apartment, where Riddick was waiting. As the connection secured and encoded, he started the takeoff.
"Talk to me, Tim," Riddick said quickly.
"Broken rib, looks like. Lacerations around her wrists and ankles, lip's split in a few places, bruises all over," Tim's voice was tight. "Starved and dehydrated." Riddick grunted. "I've got one major starjump, so give me a few hours and meet me at the docking bay." Riddick nodded and clicked off, and Tim concentrated on piloting. As soon as the hatch touched the ground, Riddick was aboard and checking her out, not speaking. Tim watched nervously.
"Go, Tim," Riddick said quietly.
"Is she-?"
"She'll be fine, but you're not safe. Go now." Tim nodded, heading down the ramp. "I'll let you know where we land," he said quietly, following Tim to the hatch and closing it behind the former Ranger, managing a small wave. He programmed the cruiser for auto takeoff, and pre-set the pressure stabilizer so he wouldn't have to worry about bouncing around, though it would burn a lot more fuel. He left her for a moment, darting down the hallway to the bathroom to draw a tub full of warm water, and returned, gathering her in his arms.
It wasn't an easy task of undressing an unconscious woman, but he managed, lifting her gently, and lowering her into the water. He settled for rinsing off the dried blood and grime, pulling the plug and turning on the heated air dryers while he reached for a towel. Residual blood and dirt smeared on the towel as he wrapped it around her, but he didn't notice, picking her up again and taking her down to the makeshift sick bay struggling to get her into clean scrubs – it was the closest thing to clothing he could find – and slipped her under the stark white bedding. His brows knitted in concentration as he started an IV, his hands shaking slightly from rushing. She was running out of time. He programmed the machine for nutritional aid as well as rehydration before stitching up the deeper lacerations, and finally collapsed into a chair next to the cot. He sat there for a while, just watching the liquid drip, before leaning forward to rest his elbows on the cot at her side, reaching out to smooth her hair away from her forehead. He tried to stay awake, but sleep won.