Disclaimer: There's a poem by William Blake called The Tiger that I quote bits of.

Who Is Jack?

Riddick frowned, "Jack?"

"Yeah, Jack." The girl was looking at him as if he's lost his mind.

Zemma wondered…Who was this Jack?

Jaron was listening to the comm. in his helmet. "Lord Marshal, it worked, Sir. We're going to war."

The Furyans in the room, except for Jack there were none other than Furyans in the room, cheered. Riddick and Jack were still looking at each other closely, Jack, with some amusement.

"Kyra said Jack was weak. She said Jack died and became Kyra." Riddick didn't look confused exactly, but certainly wanted some clarification.

Jack shrugged. "Nice embellishment. Meant she didn't have to remember to answer to MY name."

"Sir," Zemma approached diffidently. "If you'd like to continue your conversation in private, I suggest we go back to the suite." The throne room was known to be bugged, an open secret.

Jack glanced over at Zemma, but spoke to Riddick. "Nice bit of fluff. She always dress like you? The 'Sir' thing, that's good, nice touch." She was grinning ear to ear. "Lord Marshal, huh?"

Zemma thought it was a rather infectious grin and didn't hold her own smile in check. The girl winked at her.

"Jaaaack." Riddick drew out the name like an admonition, but there was a glint of amusement in his eyes.

Whoever she is, he's happy to see her…

And Kyra was pretending to BE her…

How could he not tell them apart? They're like night and day.

The doors to the throne room were being opened to allow crew to begin cleaning up the mess, the lights being dialed up slowly to facilitate that, and to remind the Furyans to drop their lenses.

"Excuse me, please," Zemma nodded respectfully to her Lord Marshal and the newcomer before hurrying after Nor.

"Nor, don't eat that," Zemma spoke in Furyan. "You don't know what it is. Come." She led the cat towards the exit before the crew got her overexcited.

"Cute kid," Jaron came up on her other side, also speaking in Furyan.

"You think she's his child?" Zemma had wondered the same about Kyra once.

"Could be; he's nearly old enough, she looks almost young enough. Between the close cropped hair and the smart-ass remarks…"

Zemma smiled. "I'm going to take Nor back to her suite, do you think I should…?" She let the question hang unspoken.

"Zemma you stood by his side as his Lady today. He moved you back into his suite because he wants you there." Jaron stopped to put a hand on her arm. "I'll take Nor home, you wait for them." He inclined his head over his shoulder. Riddick and the girl were walking towards them slowly.

"Kyra's dead?"

Riddick put his goggles on, but his expression was not hard for Zemma to read. He'd mourned the dead girl thinking she was this Jack, and now Jack was having to face it as well. Sympathy, masked by his stalwart features, was deeply felt but hardly shown.

But who was Kyra to this Jack? From the look of grief on her face, Zemma had a hunch she was more than a friend.

Jack looked to Zemma standing at the doorway. "Where did your shine job go?"

Zemma looked to Riddick for clarification with a raised eyebrow. 'Shine job?'

"Let that wait till we get to my quarters," Riddick told Jack, but pointed to his eyes for Zemma's answer.

Oh, the blue lenses. Shine job? Riddick had said once he didn't remember how his eyes came to be stuck with the blue lenses up. Was 'shine job' how he'd explained it to others?

'How the hell do I get eyes like that,' she'd said. Surgery?

Better than thinking it's a sexually transmitted disease. Zemma would have liked to laugh, but held it in check.

Zemma opened the door with her palm print and called the lights up from blackness to dimness for the benefit of their guest and turned on the scene walls as well, for added ambient light. Riddick took off his goggles.

Jack whistled. "Nice spread for a ship, even as big as this one." She continued to walk through the apartment. "Who ya gotta kill to get a place like this?"

This time Zemma did laugh, and pointed to Riddick when Jack turned towards the sound. "Him."

Riddick dropped into a chair, arms thrown wide, with an actual grin on his face. "It's good to be Lord Marshal," he quipped.

"Say, if you weren't looking for me with the clay faces, why'd you attack their fleet?"

Zemma didn't answer, but waited to see how Riddick would. She sat down nearby.

"I've inherited a clan of faithful lunatics who worship death. Thought I'd do 'em a favor."

"But how'd you know they were even out here? Riddick, how'd you know they had me?"

"I didn't." Riddick seemed willing to leave it there with a shrug; he understood the Now intuitively.

Jack shook her head, perhaps she knew Riddick well enough to know he was done. She didn't look satisfied with the answer. She continued to wander here and there looking at the room and the scene walls.

"Who was Kyra?" Riddick emphasized the 'who'. As in 'who' did you dare to talk about me? Zemma was sure Kyra must have played her role very convincingly, which meant a lot of knowledge. Not something Riddick tended to share, even with her.

"Just a port in the storm," Jack seemed flippant.

To Zemma's eyes she was clearly lying. She glanced at Riddick who's face was hardening. Clear to him as well, then.

"Jack, who was Kyra?" Same voice, same words, but now an undeniable command.

Jack's face hardened too. Either she didn't want to share that information, which made the relationship even more obvious to Zemma, or she didn't like Riddick telling her what to do. It made her wonder even more, 'Who is Jack?'

Zemma kept very still as the two stared each other down. She had no doubt who would win this battle of wills but was intrigued to see how it would end. Jack finally just turned away.

"Are there any other 'ports' out there that know more about me than they should?" Riddick make 'ports' sound like a dirty word. In a way, Zemma guessed it was.

"No." Sullen, defensive, angry.

Yes, Kyra was special to Jack. Poor dear. And no time to mourn her with this interrogation.

"Jack, when did you last eat? Since hostilities will apparently commence, it's all hands for themselves." A state dinner would be a little off-putting with so many dead bodies still being cleaned out of the next room. Zemma stood and walked to the menu console.

"You mean, you're really going to war with them fuckers? Right now?"

Zemma nodded.

"And we're in here just shootin' the shit?"

"Already planned. Already executed." Riddick answered succinctly. Zemma could still hear agitation in his voice but at least he was dropping the previous subject.

"Well, I'll be God-damned." Jack said with some respect. "I guess it IS good to be the king."

Zemma smiled to herself as she flipped through the menu. Whoever this Jack would turn out to be, Zemma liked her.