Fry kept the pressure suits (used for emergency repairs on the outside hull in deep space) in an emergency locker, the suits hanging in single file on a steel rod. Following Fry's instructions the group began to rip open the black suits, looking for the liquid oxygen containers inside. With those containers the small group of survivors would find it easier to breath on this low oxygen planet.

Gina fell into a hypnotic silence, the babble of conversation passing over her head as she focused on her work. It was only when Fry asked Johns about Riddick did Gina look up, thinking that Fry had noticed the blow torch Gina had earlier kicked across the floor to lie at Riddick's feet.

"And him?" Fry asked.

Johns glanced back at the corner where Riddick was kept, thankfully not seeing the torch. "Big Evil? He's my prisoner, highest priority." Johns answered, pulling out a holobadge for everyone to see... Gina blinked. A fake holobadge! Gina turned away, hiding her angry scowl. No wonder John's was so good. He Was A Fucking Merc!!! Probably sent by the Company like all those other mercenaries and assassins that were sent to kill Riddick...

"We keep him locked up forever?" Fry was asking.

"That would be my choice," Johns answered. "Already escaped once from the max-slam facility two years ago..."

"I don't want to hear his life story." Fry interrupted. "Is he really that dangerous?'

Johns shrugged. "Only around humans"

Gina ground her teeth, keeping her eyes on the jacket that she cutting open with the hunting knife she bought on Gemini Six. She had found it earlier, thinking that things couldn't get any worse then this.

That was when Fry noticed the water leak.

With a gasp Fry leapt to her feet, running full tilt to the water citrine, Zeke and Johns following her. Gina blinked and got to her feet, wanting to investigate as well.

What she found was not good.

They had practically no water. And this was a desert planet.

LATER

"Well now," Gina said coldly as she gazed down at the nearly empty water citrine. "Isn't this pleasant? Now we are REALLY fucked."

"Shut it Gina." Fry muttered, her face thoughtful.

Jack however smiled and looked up at Gina worshipfully. "Are we all going to die here? If some does die, do we have to drink their blood since we don't got nothing to drink?" Jack asked Gina, his eyes alight.

Gina smiled and before Shazza or Fry could stop her from commenting Gina nodded, shrugging and cast a evil glare Fry's direction. "Not bad of an idea kiddo. Who do you think will die first? Paris?"

"I said SHUT IT, Gina!" Fry snapped, pulling Jack away from Gina as though she had some contagious disease. Gina sniffed and winked at Jack, who smiled back at her.

Fry sighed as she looked away, her eyes calculating. What to do? What to do?

Johns glanced at Fry and then breathed out, leaning against the steel hull, fingering his nightstick absently. "What now?" he asked, looking Fry in the eyes.

Fry swallowed hard, looking up at the blue-eyed cop, wishing they would all just turn to someone else for instructions, wishing that everything was not up to her... "We need water. Do any of you have anything in the cargo hold that we can use?"

A long moment of silence filled the corridor as they all looked to each other, hoping that someone would answer. No one did. Fry cursed vilely and looked away. After a moment she dared to look up again. "Well, lets just go down as see if we can find something anyway..." Fry said carefully and turned, leading them downward the cargo hold, pausing only for several torch lights.

As Gina silently followed she considered Riddick. If he was the Riddick she remembered then he should be well on his way.

LATER

Still frowning, Fry led the survivors down the winding corridors of the Hunter-Gratzner to the cargo hold. All the way down there were signs that the great ship would never fly again. Walls were either cracked, crumbling, torn or ripped open, or gone; scrapped away during the descent. There were also lose cables and wires to watch out for, as well as long rails of twisted steel to dodge or climb under. Overall the descent was quite a saddening experience.

Gina was quite anxious to see if her crates had survived. Not only was she worried about her crate holding her personal artifacts but also she was also really concerned about her shipment of weapons. Those guns were her livelihood. Due to be sold to high bidders in the arms trade, Gina had spent hundreds of thousands of credits getting those guns made and tested. In essence, they were her life.

Gina had two crates on board in the cargo hold. One was really small. It held her clothing, computer laptop, jewelry, and other personal items. Among those personal items Gina was mostly concerned about her laptop for it contained all the important information on her company, GeeTek Arms. Cash flow readouts, clients contact info, weapons specks, it was all in there. The second crate held her shipment. One hundred guns of her latest design, each gun valued at 450 credits. That was 45 gees of hard cash. Gina had been spending the past year designing those guns. They were her best models; with a smartgun computer system, fingerprint scanner, and seeker goggles that connected with the gun's modem. All the guns were automatic and they varied from laser pistol to shotguns.

Several more minutes of walking down more craggy corridors, Fry finally came to the huge steel plated door of the cargo bay. After punching in her security code and pressing her hand on the fingerprint signature lock, Fry stepped back as the door suddenly hissed and lurched open. Pushing Fry out of the way, Gina walked into the cargo hold, pulling out her flashlight to pierce the smoky glom.

What she found was not to promising.

The cargo hold was in real bad shape. During the decent a lot of the walls collapsed and caused a lot of electrical wires to rip open and start one hell of a fire. The smells of smoke and molten metal pierced Gina's senses and she turned away, coughing and gagging from the rancid smell of chemicals and smoke. But she knew what her tearing eyes had seen. The crate that held her guns was practically melted to slag. "Awww Fuck!" Gina snarled, waving her hands vanely to clear the torid air and glared down at the crate, her eyes hard despite the searing chemicals. "That was one hellava landing Fry," Gina snaped at the pilot, her eyes burning "You managed to fuck up half the ship!"

Fry glared at Gina, her blue eyes cold and unconcerned. "Right now that is not or primary objective. What IS our primary objective is that we get the fuck off this planet. If we ever do I swear we'll reimburse you."

Gina scowled but for once said nothing. Instead she began the long and heavy work of scavanging what she could. If anything would put her mind at ease it would be to at least be armed properly. Meanwhile, Fry as the others began searching through Paris's shipment (which Gina noticed was undamaged, causing her to almost snarl in resentment) discovering his enormous supply of high grade booze.

It took nearly an hour of kicking the hell out of the molten steel, but Gina was eventually able to pry open the crate, one of Paris's bottle of old Irish Whiskey making the work a bit more cheery. Gina found that only 5 guns survived the fire, 3 simple rifles, one smartgun system equiped with the heat-seeking goggles and shotgun, and one lazor pistol. Gina closed her eyes when she saw the reckage, suddenly feeling like crying. It had taken a year to be able to develop the funds to be able to bring this guns to life, and now look at them. But despite such heavy losses Gina was still pleased to see that some survived, especially the smartgun computer system. It was state of the art and doubled the output of the rifles which, sadly enough, were armed by old fashioned shot gun rounds, somethiing she did not have much of.

Gina sighed and bit back any comments that sprang to mind, forcing herself to calm down. At least she was armed, that was something to be thankful for. Now at least she felt whole, complete and more then ready for whatever this planet had to through at her. If she where to die she was going to die fighting, with a gun in her hand. Gina ran a had over the sleek, steel blue armor coating of the rifle she had specifically asked for. She shivered, feeling something like a electric current go through her entire body, making the tips of her fingers tingle. She knew these guns as well as she knew her own body. They were as close to her as her own children would be, if she had any. Gina smiled and sat back, finishing what was left of the whisky, feeling her head spin with that all to familier feeling of intoxication. If Riddick wanted to fuck around, she was good and ready. "Time to even up that score Richie Boy," Gina whispered to herself, her hand carressing the smartgun system as though it where a lover. "Now it's me whose hunting you."

AUTHOR'S NOTE: I know it's been forever since I've updated this story, but life and school tends to get in the way. I swear i'll try to finnish it ASAP.