What Dread Grasp
Min woke the next morning knowing the suite was still empty, Riddick hadn't returned. That was all right. She figured he was examining the teeth of the tiger he had by the tail. Min had work to do too.
First she ordered breakfast. Steak! She ordered two in case he showed up, but if not it would be a better treat than meat rolls for her cats. Then she got into the computer.
Most Faster-Than-Light ships auto downloaded satellite news at every planet they visited, the 'Monger's were no exception. She called up all the info she could on Riddick: Bounties, mostly, and his criminal records, a few psych profiles. Nothing to indicate he was Furyan. No real history. Origin Earth? That was interesting.
Psych profiles included IQ tests. Some showed genius scores, some showed a 64. Must have depended on his mood, she thought. Diagnosis ranged from sociopathic psychopath to merely antisocial. She mentally shrugged, must have depended on his mood again. Either way he added up to smart, loner, rebel. Not exactly cult leader material.
So he wasn't likely to ride this tiger. Then how would he let go without getting bit?
Hamstring it, of course.
Could be fun watching him do that, but then where would she be? Bat her eyelashes and coo 'take me with you'? She didn't think she could say it and doubted even more that he'd do it. He was willing to give her her chance, but she'd blown it. She was supposed to walk on her own. He'd come to rescue the girl but she'd been so young: daughter or little sister; some kind of history there.
But rescue the maiden material? Not likely.
So she had to rescue herself and she'd give him the same chance he'd given her: to just walk away. But she'd been riding the tiger a long time; this was HER tiger now.
Okay, that was decided, now how?
Mythology and power drove this killing machine.
'What hand dare seize the fire? On what wings dare I aspire?'
Radical, crazy thinking there, Min. Sure you haven't gone mad?
Shut up, I'm busy.
Mythology and power...
Mythology...
Min searched the computer for Fury, Furyan, Furyans. Not much. Thirty years since the 'Mongers destroyed the home world and before that not a lot of galactic history. Antisocial bunch. Or the previous Marshall had erased it. Paranoid Elemental freak. He did make great mythology though; she had to hand it to him. And a great blueprint for power.
It's crazy, Min.
Shush! It's just survival.
Breakfast arrived. And shortly thereafter so did Riddick.
"Good morning," she greeted him cheerfully. He looked like he hadn't slept and wasn't in the mood for cheerfulness.
"You're feeling better." He grumbled.
"Yes, I've just been figuring out how to kill you and become Lord Marshal." Her voice was chipper as she laid out dishes in the elaborate dining area. This caused a raised eyebrow from Riddick.
"I thought you said you couldn't kill me," he mused as he followed his nose.
"Well," she conceded, "not without your help of course. Come have breakfast."