He doesn't
like having a shiv to his throat, but I don't fucking like being
lied to
either. I didn't come all the way here to be the ass end of a
pathetic
joke. Only he
had the codes to the fatline and according to the latest buzz that
I picked up,
I'm still ripped apart on T2. I ain't stupid and I'm not about to
fall for this
load of bullshit he's trying to pass over on me.
Riddick's eyes
narrowed on the Imam's face, the silver orbs glinting in the
faint light
of
the kitchen. Pressing the shiv closer to the man's neck, he stepped
forward, speaking
softly. "Bullshit. I've gotten three messages from you, holy
man.
Three in the past
five years.
The first two weren't important, but in the last, it was
still your face
and your voice, Imam.
You said she was gone, that she was taken
You were the only
one with my codes." He let
the shiv knick Imam's neck, barely
a
graze, but enough to know that he was completely
serious. "Don't
fuck with me,
holy man. Where is she?"
Confusion and
fear twisted the black man's expression and it was apparent that he
was desperately
trying not to break away from the cold cutting edge of the blade at
his neck. "I
never sent a message, Riddick. Jack is at a friend's home for the
evening.
I am telling you
the truth, I swear it. There has never been a cause to send for you
or
to write you. "
The Imam swallowed, his throat working against the shiv as it bit
closer and held
absolutely still as the shiv was slowly lowered.
Clasping a hand to his neck, stepped
back, taking long deep breaths. "I would not
lie to you, Mr.
Riddick. I do have your codes, but I never used them, nor have I
shared them. "
The muscles in
Riddick's jaw knotted as his eyes looked around the kitchen,
every
muscle taut. If
an attack had been coming, it would have happened by now, but it
didn't quell the
disquiet in his gut. "Someone sent the message Imam.You aren't
in
the clear yet."
Eyes searched, but found nothing.
"There is no
one here, Riddick, I promise you. " Wiping away the slight trail
of blood
on his neck, the
Imam gestured towards the small message console in the living room.
"Here,
I will show you the records, maybe then, you will believe what I have told you. "
"After you, Holy Man."
The slender man
walked towards the console, hands slightly raised in order not
to give the
volatile Riddick any excuse to distrust him. He bent over the
console,
Riddick close behind him. Pecking out instructions on the
small pad, he brought up
recent com logs
and trailed over them with a finger. "You see? Your code is not
on
the recent logs."
"Go back
farther." Riddick's eyes searched the screen and he moved the
Imam to
the
side, watching him before he scanned the older logs himself. Nothing.
What
the fuck? I know I didn't dream it. My
mind isn't that far gone.
"Now you
see. You weren't called. There is no need for you to be here. Jack
and
I are both well.
I can call her, if you like..."
Riddick cut him
off. "Don't bother." He stepped away from the console, his
head
tilted to the
side as he tried to figure what in the hell had happened. Tapping the
shiv
on the console,
his jaw tightened and loosened rythmically. Straightening he pushed
away from the
console and glanced at the door, still half-expecting it to burst
open.
"You can stay for a few days, if you like. I'm sure that she'd be glad to see you.."
"No. I was gone, and I'll stay gone."
"Will you be returning to your ship then?"
Riddick turned his gaze to the Imam, eyes narrowed in suspicion.
"I only ask because I could provide transportation, Mr. Riddick, nothing more."
"I don't
need it." Riddick walked away, then glanced out a window before
he
opened the door.
"Delete my codes, Holy Man. You're on your own." He stepped
out of the door,
and closed it firmly behind him.
Walking back
towards the docks, Riddick didn't let his mind wander, listening for
the faint
footfalls of anyone behind him. Nothing. His gut, his instinct told
him that
all was not
right, that he was missing something, The proverbial fan had
definately
started moving,
all he could do now was to prepare for the messy splatter, where
ever or whenever
it might start.
The docks were
quiet and he was let back in without a murmur, without a question
.
Even thoroughly
checking the hull of his small ship, he found nothing. No tracer, no
sign of tampering. Brow knitted, he punched the key codes to the door
and inhaled
deeply before he
stepped in. Nothing; all was quiet, smelling of himself and the
scents
of travel.
Nothing odd there. As he pressed the autolaunch sequence, his world shattered and
blackened. A sharp blow to the back of his head, keeled him over with a loud grunt
and he felt himself hit the floor of the cockpit hard. Before his vision dulled, he saw
two pair of thick soled boots, and then nothing.