THE MOTHER LODE BY ABRAXIS
Chapter 5 - DOWN THE RABBIT HOLE
Another human being, I just killed another human being. He was laying there helpless, pleading for his life, and I killed him. There was no emotion. I wasn't angry. I didn't hate him. I wasn't frightened of him. If anything, I pitied him. And I killed him. I committed murder, cold blooded murder. I did it easily. I did it capably. And I don't feel a thing.

No, that's not accurate. I do feel an amount of regret. Not regret for having done it. Just regret that it had to be done. Not a significant amount of regret either. Not enough to make me hesitate should it become necessary to kill again.

Even before, when Riddle reached for his knife and I knew it was time to do it, it wasn't the thought of killing G that caused me feel ill. It was the thought that I wouldn't be able to kill him.

But that fear, that doubt, will never plague me again. I am a killer and now I know it. I know why the large cats always fascinated me, why I chose criminal psychology as my focus field, why only the most violent of them interested me. I know why I never felt like I belonged in the world I was born to, why my imagination always came fully to life only in the violence and blood of the ancient sagas and legends, why the most lawless eras of history drew me, why walking these mean streets felt like coming home. Now, I know why Dr. Fenton chose me to be Alice.
"Was this for me?"
"No!"
Sheeeze. What will it take to convince this man that I am not lying to him! But why should he trust me? Why should one killer trust another? Is that what has been happening? Did he sense from the first that I was capable of this? He uses his senses like an animal. Did one predator smell another?
"Tell the truth, sweet thing. You weren't expecting trouble with G. What would it have taken for you to shove this thing up my nose? Would you have used it just because I didn't take the contract or only if I had tried to make you pay up on all that skin you're showing?"
Well that's better. He isn't accusing me of being after his bounty. He's accusing me of being willing to kill for no good reason. .......... and I wouldn't! Oh Riddle, you beautiful paranoid bastard. I wouldn't. I wouldn't. I may be a killer but I am not a psychopathic killer. I have to have a reason to kill, a reason with no options. I'm the sheep dog, not the wolf. Not yet.
"Neither. I have not told you enough for you to be a threat to me even now. If you had not taken the contract I would simply have bid you goodnight and Godspeed. If you had tried to rape me I would have used the other earring. It contains a strong, but non-lethal, sedative."
"Then why did you have that one?"
Deal with this truth, Mr. Badass.
"To put up my own nose if I were betrayed. Since I no longer have that option, I would like to leave for somewhere safer as soon as possible. Are we finished here?"
Well, well. I think he is actually shocked. I like that. A bit of revenge for the way he has been twisting my mind all evening.
She watched as he picked up the pencil and paperweight she had used on G and understood his intent. Then he scanned the room quickly. Thrusting them into her hands, he grabbed her arm and pulled her out of the room and down the hall toward the storeroom. She resisted just enough to get an explanation.

"Jeeter split. He might turn us just to cover his own ass. We need to hop as soon as we get to the skimmer."

She didn't want to believe that of the little man but her mind was immediately busy planning the best way to leave the city and reach the small independent port where the "'Butch Cassidy'" was hangered. They were approaching the door to the storeroom when it shot open and Jeeter was speeding toward them, his arms full of tote sacks. He jerked to a stop. A frown scrunched his face. She couldn't decide if he knew what they had thought or was thinking the same thing about them. Then he looked at Riddle's hold on her arm and his face relaxed. Whatever he had been thinking, he didn't mention it. He shoved the sacks at Riddle who automatically released his hold on Jenna to take them.

"You start with the safe while I get my personals then I'll help you." He turned to Jenna. His voice softened. "Would be a help if the skimmer was closer. Is that ok with you, Lady?"

Jenna hid a smile. Jeeter had spoken to Riddle as if they were now equals but his manner with her definitely said 'boss'. She was willing to accept that relationship for the present but was extremely pleased that he hadn't used the same whiny subservient tone that he had used with G.

"We don't need the money, Mr. Jeeter."

He looked at her with amazement. Then, his expression changed and he spoke to her very much like a kindly teacher might speak to a novice student.

"No matter how much you got, Lady, a little more don't hurt. 'Sides, if we don't take it, the clubbers will and then they'll start wondering why we didn't."

"Then by all means, pack it up. I'll bring the skimmer to the back door."

After Jenna powered up the skimmer, she took time to check the security scanner. All was still clear in their area. She treated the skimmer as a ground car. Pulling into the street she swung it around and backed into G's alley. Leaving the drive idling, she popped the hatch of the storage compartment and flipped on a set of dim red lights to mark the hatch's location for the men. She had barely settled in to monitor the scanner when Riddle appeared carrying two soft-sided satchels, obviously Jeeter's personals. She needn't have bothered with the light. He had removed his shades. Jenna couldn't help lifting a questioning eyebrow at him as he deposited Jeeter's satchels in the skimmer.

"Seems that my taste in loot isn't up to Jeeter's standards. He's sorting and packing and I'm carrying. You sure got to him. I've never seen him act like anything but a door mat and now he's walking tall. You wouldn't want to share your secret, would you, sweet thing?"

Jenna decided that Riddle was a most irritating man. If he wasn't interrogating her, he was seducing her. He even seduced her while he was interrogating her. Or was that interrogated while he seduced. Whatever! It was irritating!

"There is no secret, Mr. Riddle. I treat him with respect and common courtesy. Most people react positively to that. You really should try it yourself. I would certainly appreciate it if you did."

She couldn't believe that she had lost control and lashed out at him in that manner. Intellectually, she knew that the best way to handle his insolence, his familiarity, was to ignore it. But Riddle was reaching her on emotional levels that no one else had ever approached. She cursed herself for so stupidly challenging him as she watched his silvered eyes glow even brighter.

"Oh, I am treating you with courtesy and respect, sweet thing. If I wasn't, thirty seconds after we left that bar I would have put you against a wall."

It took a moment for her to understand the meaning of his words. She stared at him in shocked silence for several more before being able to reply in a choked whisper.

"I thought you said that you weren't a rapist?"

His eyes increased in intensity once again and a confident smile parted his lips.

"I'm not."

Then he was gone and she was staring into the dark of the empty alley. Her imagination ran wild. His massive arms flexing as he lifted her. His hard body thrust between her legs, holding her suspended against rough concrete. His large, well shaped hands touching, caressing. His expressive, sensuous lips ............ She felt like her whole body was on fire.

She wanted to scream, she wanted to run, she wanted to pound the instrument panel into trash with her fists. She knew with complete certainty that he was right; that it wouldn't have been rape. What it would have been she had no experience to tell her and she ached with need to find out.

She cursed Dr. Fenton. She cursed Inter-Galactic Enterprises. She cursed everyone and everything that had any part in bringing her to this time and place; to the terrible truths she was being forced to acknowledge about herself. First she was a cold blooded killer and now she was a slut; a bitch in heat for a man she didn't even know. Willing to be taken in an alley like a whore.

Part of her wanted to deny everything that had happened, crawl back into the pristine, simple world of the Institute, sell her soul to Galactic for the privilege of hiding there forever. But that wasn't possible and she knew it. Her own personal Pandora's Box had been opened and, just as in the fable, there was no way to undo that. However awful it might become, she had no choice but to continue the metamorphosis.

As she attained a tentative level of calm, she realized that the only person involved that she hadn't cursed was Riddle. That would have been like cursing thunder for its deafening roll or lightening for its deadly strike.
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Well, that was certainly as subtle as a sledge hammer. Riddick pulled his shades down as he neared the brightly lit vault. He couldn't figure her out and that made him even more suspicious than he normally was, made him want to push until that shell around her broke and he could see what was inside.

That was a cold piece of business with G. It was her first kill and it bothered her, he could tell that much. But the way it bothered her had sent chills through him. That look on her face as she shot that shit up G's nose. Riddick had seen that look before. He had seen it on the face of a medic kneeling in the mud, giving a screaming, blown to pieces kid a mercy hypo.

And she would have used that shit on herself. He was sure of that. In all Riddick's time in the slam, on the run, even in that muddy hell where he had met that medic, the thought of taking himself out had never crossed his mind. What ever the woman was it wasn't something as simple as a runaway wife. That could have been handled as easily as she dealt with G. Whatever she was running from was big and dangerous, powerful and connected. And she wasn't running alone. He had known that as soon as he had catalogued the modifications to that tricked out skimmer.

He knew that she would reveal the answers to all his question in her own time, when she felt safe enough to do it. All it would take was the patience to wait for that. Usually Riddick had a great capacity for that. One lesson the slam taught you was patience. If you didn't learn it you went crazy or died. But now he found himself very short on it. He tried to chalked it up his need for this contract to be righteous but he knew that wasn't all of it. He knew that the woman was a big part of it, too.

As he entered the vault he was surprised at the number of tote sacks that Jeeter had packed and waiting for him. There were six along the right side and two more beginning a row on the left.

"Damn, Jeeter, that skimmer won't hold this whole vault."

Jeeter didn't even look up from the stack of velvet lined trays he was stripping into a tote at the speed of light.

"Take the two on the left and anything else I put over there first. The stuff on the right is local script, no good once we're off planet. What we can't fit in the clubbers will enjoy. Pisses 'em if you don't leave 'em some grease."

Riddick bowed to Jeeter's superior knowledge in this area and continued ferrying tote sacks. The only other exchange of words he had with Jeeter came when he caught him shoving something wrapped in velvet into the inside pocket of his jacket.

"Taking a little private stash, Jeeter?"

The little man jumped at the sound of his voice and turned. The look on his face was almost pleading.

"It's special. For Lady's blade. A surprise."

Damned if Riddick didn't believe him. With a shrug he picked up another load and headed back for the skimmer. When Jeeter finally decided that the vault had been properly looted, the storage compartment of the skimmer was almost two thirds full. The last trip was a couple of sacks of the Derius script that Jeeter used to pad the nest he intended to occupy. The clubbers were going to have a good payday on this one. Riddick smiled as Jeeter carefully cinched the majority of the cargo net tightly around the loot while keeping a sufficient area of it in reserve to secure himself.

Throughout the whole operation the woman had kept her attention tightly focused on the security panel. It wasn't until Riddick was belted into the seat beside her that she again acknowledged his existence.

"I need the address of your lodgings, Mr. Riddle. I hope there is room left for everything you wish to bring with you since we can not risk a second trip."

This didn't fit with his plans.

"It's 1987 S. 4th. But you just drop me off and give me a safe meet for about a week from now. I'll need the upfront money, too. Jeeter count me out 50,000 of the script."

The woman looked at him but there was no suspicion in her expression. He was surprised to find that pleased him.

"Why?"

"Got to do something about my eyes. No matter what you can do about a new identity, this shine screams con."

"What do you intend to do about it?"

He could see that it wasn't idle curiosity.

"I was going to settle for a reverse job but, with this money and some luck, I think I can get a righteous job to replace it. Whichever way it goes, I'll make the meet."

"I have the capability of supplying you with state of the art implanted refractive night vision that is undetectable in lighted conditions and will not interfere with your vision in those conditions, either. We will consider it part of the identity package promised." She was punching the address into the nav console as she spoke. "Is there any other reason that you can not accompany me immediately?"

"No."

"Good."

That was short and to the point. He expected her to pull another gut wrenching hop. Instead, she kept the skimmer at ground car level and drove to the location he had given her at a completely normal pace. There was no further conversation.

It didn't take him long to pack; just one small chest of drawers to empty into a satchel. He could have left any of it, all of it, behind; had done just that often enough. But a few changes of clothes wouldn't hurt since he wasn't running alone this time. With the satchel in hand, he picked up a small stack of books off of the table and left.

As he handed the satchel to Jeeter, he noticed that his belt buckle cover was back in place. Riddick assumed that the sticker and stun gun were also in his possession. After buckling himself in, he gestured at the woman with the books.

"Library drop box at 4th and Eldridge."

It had taken him a very complicated sob story about his 'accident' and resulting light sensitivity to get the librarian at the Eldridge branch to allow him access to the bound sections and a long time proving to her his real interest in knowledge before she allow him to do more than read under her watchful eye. Somehow he felt obligated to justify her trust by returning the books.

As the woman stared at the books, he could feel her curiosity all the way across the skimmer and took care to see that the titles were turned away from her as he placed them in his lap.

"The ship has a rather extensive library; spools of course, but also real .... bound books. If you have any special interests there is still time to see that they are added."

Now, that was better. That was a personal question. Also, she had revealed that, like him, she had a preference for 'real' books. He had felt that way long before his shine job made spool readers painful. He decided to let her curiosity work on her.

"I'll let you know after I check it out."

As soon as he had returned to the skimmer after dropping the books, he saw that she had prepared it for flight mode. Jeeter was clutching a sick bag and already looking slightly green just from anticipation. The initial take-off and directional skew was possibly worse than before but after that the bullet like flight was smooth. The woman used it to make a radio call. Riddick suspected that the send was encoded by six and probably bounced around through quite a few systems to prevent a trace. Still, she wasn't using clear talk.

"This is Alice. Who's on the com?"

"March Hare coming at you, blondie. How's tricks?"

Whoever the March Hare was, his lively tenor voice was adult but young and he didn't sound like an encyclopedia.

"I have secured the Key. I have also added the Door Mouse to the guest list. I am going home and need you and the Walrus immediately to help with the catering. Please inform the Mad Hatter to start the tea party at his discretion and inform us when the table needs to be set."

"Little snag, Alice. The Queen of Hearts has just about bitched the Carpenter into taking a new job."

"Put an earring in her tea. His too, if necessary."

"Which one?"

"The right one! Alice out."

"Shit! March Hare out."

Riddick did a memory check. The woman had used her left earring on G.

"Just how many coming to the party, sweet thing?"

She didn't smile at him but she didn't glare either.

"Seven, including myself. You and Mr. Jeeter are eight and nine. Welcome to Wonderland, Mr. Barrol."

She had tried to make it sound like a joke but Riddick heard the troubled undertone that she was trying to hide.