Chapter 7
On the outside, Toombs was checking starmaps and course charts. On the inside, he was fuming. Here he was, arguably the best merc in the entire charted universe, judging solely on the fact that he'd managed to get Riddick to a prison and keep himself in one piece, and he'd gone back to the piece of shit for help. He heaved a sigh, rubbing his forehead. Riddick dropped another stack of departure and arrival logs he'd printed from the database he'd hacked into, and Toombs closed his eyes, leaning back in his chair.
"This is fucked," he muttered, half to himself and half to the Fates. Riddick chuckled a little.
"You have no idea what she picked up, huh?" He shook his head.
"And I don't know when she left, so I have no idea where to start." Again, Riddick laughed quietly, reaching out to shuffle through the printouts he'd just slapped on the table. Toombs watched as he flipped through a couple pages, separating them into several piles.
"Start with these," Riddick said, tapping on a shorter stack. Toombs' eyebrow rose, and he reached out slowly. "All of 'em chart toward the Y90 system, between New Harlem and Kygon. Best place to stop for fuel. First stack departed between midnight and three a.m. Small cruisers and undercutters, relatively cheap, with only one crewmember." Toombs nodded. "Next stack is the same group, three a.m. to six a.m. The next is six a.m. to eight thirty, when you said you got to the hangar."
"What about other ships? Bigger. More than one crewmember listed?" Toombs asked slowly.
"I said start with those," Riddick repeated, standing. Toombs grumbled to himself, shifting in his seat as he started looking through the sheets, sorting them further into more and less likely candidates. An hour later, he started on the second pile, his eyes already strained. A few sheets in, he narrowed his eyes, flicking the paper as he stood.
"Riddick," he said slowly. The pilot's chair creaked as Riddick turned, scowl in place. "I think I found it." Riddick tossed him a look of strained tolerance as he stood, slowly reaching for the sheet Toombs held out to him.
"Season of the Sun? Why would she name her ship that?" Riddick asked quietly.
"Winters almost drove the bar under every year. They're long and brutal. People hardly go outside to let their dogs take a shit," Toombs explained. "They made their money in the summer, when it was warm. Saved it to scrape by during the cold season."
"Too obvious," Riddick said, shaking his head. "Any others?"
"Riddick…"
"We'll check it out," Riddick interjected quickly. "But you're not stopping with this one. You're gonna look at every fucking ship that left that port and we're going to narrow it down one by one. Go by name, ship type, crew size first. Then we'll do some digging." Toombs nodded, barely containing the fit he desperately wanted to throw. He always got stuck with the shitty jobs, it seemed. The cons who ran the fastest and took the most erratic and unpredictable routes. Never an easy one. Riddick turned back to the console, a small smile playing on his face. He'd already found her ship. Shortly after they'd taken off, he'd hacked into the penal database and looked up every alias she had ever used. Unfortunately for her, when she used one she was required to back it up with papers, and that always left a trail. He had to give it to Toombs. The Season of the Sun would probably have been the last ship he'd picked out for her. His brows furrowed as he ran a quick scan for her ship, breaking in a back door to her system and browsing around. After a few moments, he let out a low whistle. "What're you doin' with all that shit?" he whispered to himself. A light smirk touched his lips and he shook his head. A quick glance over his shoulder confirmed Toombs was still sifting through the port departures, and he sighed, his chair creaking again as he stood. Toombs glanced up, eyebrow rising slowly. "Okay, look," Riddick said, leaning against the wall behind him, crossing his arms over his chest. "She's using an old alias."
"You're shittin' me." Riddick shook his head. "Why would she be that dumb?"
"Well, she's probably got the papers to back it up, and it's a hell of a lot easier to travel that way. Don't have to worry about hiding your ship and fucking with security." Toombs nodded slowly. "She's on her way out to Trafalgar 2, looks like. Good move, I'd say."
"What do you mean?"
"Not a lot of law head out that way, but it's still close enough to the Kygon system to be practical." Riddick slid into one of the seats in the main cabin. "Here's the plan. We're gonna stop off at Y90-A and refuel. Starjump to the Z Sector and beat her to Trafalgar 2. Meet her at the port and drag her ass back to wherever the fuck you want to go. After that, you're on your own."
"You think it'll work?"
"We'll see, won't we?" Riddick said, cocking his head to the side. Toombs' eyes averted his, and he took a breath like he was going to say something, but let it out as a sigh instead. "She's not going to go easily, Toombs."
"I know that."
"And she's gonna try to talk you into going with her to get papers changed."
"I know," Toombs repeated with a small nod.
"You know what's involved in that?"
"A lot of shit I don't want to deal with. She already told me about it." Riddick's eyebrow rose.
"So she's done it." Toombs nodded slowly, dropping the stack of papers in his lap to the floor, a few skittering around. "Talk."
"You heard of Taylor West?" The rumble of laughter could only mean Riddick did, and Toombs glared at him.
"And you're still on her tail," Riddick snickered, shaking his head. "She must give one hell of a blow job."
"You watch your fuckin' mouth," Toombs spat, but the threat was half-hearted. He knew he'd never win, and in any case, he needed Riddick on his side at this point.
"Word of warning," Riddick said, suddenly serious again. "She's got a shit ton of communications equipment, navigational equipment, and proximity sensors. If we get within a hundred clicks of her, she'll know. I couldn't get into her weapons log to see what she's got, but I'm willing to bet it's something." Toombs was oddly quiet for most of the conversation, and Riddick's brows furled. "You got something you want to tell me?" That received a quick, nervous glance, and a heavy sigh. Toombs leaned back in his chair, sliding to a slouch.
"I don't know what the fuck I'm doing," he admitted quietly. "I barely know her and I'm out in the middle of nowhere trying to track her down." Riddick turned his head to stare out the front window. "I'm traveling with a convict, who probably has the biggest bounty on his head right now, just to find her, and I gave up my career because she wanted me to."
"You gave up your career because you're getting to old to be efficient," Riddick said quietly. "She was just a convenient excuse." Toombs' eyes narrowed over at Riddick, but he was still staring out the window. After trying to think of some smartass reply and failing miserably, he let the issue drop with a weighty sigh.
---
Kat stared at the distant stars as her ship spiraled through space. She'd found herself in a trance, the swirling specks of light creating a kaleidoscope effect as she teetered between sleep and awareness, catching her head lolling with a sudden jerk to keep it poised atop her shoulders. It was one of the things she never understood about herself – the unwillingness to let herself sleep when it was convenient. She knew that once she got to the Trafalgar system she wouldn't sleep again until this deal was over. Just as she gave herself permission to go, the alarms went off as a ship appeared out of nowhere about 500 meters from her right wing and heading right for her.
"Shit!" she gasped, instantly awake. As she waited for the autopilot to shut off, she hooked in her headset and patched a connection to the vessel. "What the fuck is wrong with you?" she snapped, steering her ship away at a sharp angle, the joysticks shaking and shuddering with the force of the turn.
"Unpredicted starjump, ma'am," came the crackly reply. Her eyes narrowed. That voice sounded too familiar. "My sincerest apologies."
"Next time try charting and sweeping before you hit the fucking button," she hissed, cutting the connection as she changed courses, deciding to head to a different system to refuel. A deep scowl marked her features as she shook her head, resetting the autopilot with the lowest engine speed she had before leaving the cockpit to figure out where to go instead.
It had taken her three extra days to get to Y90-A for fuel, and she'd definitely be pressed now to make the deadline on Kygon 3. Calling to delay the appointment wasn't an option. If she didn't make it, not only would she have Toombs, most likely a few mercs still convinced she wasn't actually in prison, and maybe even Riddick wanting a piece trying to track her down, she'd have nearly a whole planet of hardcore convicts on her tail. And they didn't get more money if they took her alive. They'd get more money the more slowly she died. A quick shudder ran over her, and she headed back to the ship, tucking her change from refueling back in her pocket.
Her ship's hatch lowered at the press of a button on a remote in her pocket, which, by the way, was hooked up to a lot more than just the hatch. As she walked up the ramp and reached out to hit the switch to close up behind her, the hairs on the back of her neck stood on end, and she paused, her hand hovering over the dial. A movement caught her attention from the corner of her eye and her gun was drawn in a flash, following the trail a little flying bug made as it worked its way toward the opening of the hatch. A small smile played on her lips, and she lowered the gun, heaving a sigh.
"Fuckin' losin' it," she mumbled, shaking her head as she turned the dial, hydraulics groaning as the ramp rose, shutting the hatch with an airlock hiss and a click. She turned back to head up to the cockpit and stopped in her tracks, a very large man wearing all black, including his facemask, stepping out of the shadows. Her arms rose slowly, the gun dangling from her index finger by the trigger guard, swinging back and forth slowly.
"You're late," came a raspy voice. Her brows furrowed. "Drop the gun." Her pistol hit the deck with a clatter, and she hoped like hell the chrome didn't get scratched in the process. It just had to be her favorite one.
"I've got two more days," she insisted slowly, taking a step back as he took one forward.
"You can't get there in two days," he pressed, taking another step as she did the same. Three more and she'd be against the wall with nowhere to go.
"And you're not willing to give me the chance to prove you wrong," she assumed, dropping her arms to her sides. "Lemme guess," she continued, pausing to lick her lips. "I bet Jesse's going through my logs right now, trying to find out where I've been and what I've got stashed." No response. "And you've got at least one more guy with you, just to make sure I behave myself, right?" Still no response. She sighed, backing up to the wall and sliding to the ground, pulling her knees to her chest.
"I have orders, Taylor," the man said.
"Cut the shit, Jackson," she snapped. "Give me the chance to at least try and if I don't make it, kill me then. If I do, well…" she trailed off, shaking her head. Her arms were wound around her legs, hiding her left hand from his view as she struggled to find the remote in her pocket. "You'll get home to your girlfriends and have a good ol' time and I'll get my papers and my life." He stared at her for a moment, and she stared right back, still trying to get to that damn remote. Finally he sighed, pulling the mask over his head to reveal his face, covered in angry purple bruises. "What the fuck happened to you?" She couldn't keep the amusement from her voice, and he scowled.
"Get your pretty little ass up to the cockpit and start this bitch," he ordered. Her eyebrow rose, but she stood slowly, giving up on the remote for the moment. "You're on a short fuckin' leash, so don't push it," he warned. She sent him a cocky smile, her steps pausing as she passed him, stopping at his side. Her head turned toward him, intentionally positioning her face just a breath away from his.
"I wouldn't dream of it," she whispered, making a show of flicking her eyes down to his lips and back up to his eyes. A quick flash passed through his eyes, and she smiled, winking as she continued to the ladder. "What's up, Jess?" she asked cheerily as she headed toward the cockpit, flopping into her chair and buckling in. He, too, pulled the mask off his head and stared at Jackson as he followed up the ladder.
"What the fuck?" Jesse asked quietly. Jackson shook his head, pointing toward one of the passenger seats.
"I'm in a generous mood," Jackson answered, not seeing the smirk on Kat's lips. "We're giving her the rest of the period to try to get there. She doesn't make it, we carry out."
"Ray's gonna give you hell," Jesse warned.
"Let him," Jackson replied. "Just gives us an excuse to play a little." A knowing smile lit Jesse's face as he buckled in.
"Just to warn you, gentlemen," Kat called from the pilot's seat, "we're taking three starjumps in a row. Might want to tighten your har…ness…es." The last word was broken up as she watched Jackson strap in next to her, claiming the navigator's chair. She swore inwardly, not getting the chance to get to her precious remote.
"You crazy?" Jackson asked calmly, though he pulled his straps a little tighter than he normally would. "Three jumps will tear this ship into pieces."
"We'll see, won't we?"