THE MOTHER LODE BY ABRAXIS
Chapter 6 - A CAGE IS A CAGE IS A CAGE
Alice was going home. It had felt that way always, before. The skimmer, the transport, the mother ship, they had belonged to her. Of course the others had been heavily involved in the design and equipment and supply requirements of their own areas but, for the most part, they couldn't communicate with each other much further than "Pass the salt, please." She had been the one to see that it all was done and done properly. She was the one who pulled all of their separate needs and desires into a cohesive whole and made that whole a reality. True, Dr. Fenton - no, must begin to use the new identities - Maximus had given her generous advice and council whenever she requested it. But he had insisted that the decisions be hers, that because of her field of expertise she was the only one capable of handing the personal interactions necessary to acquire, modify and supply their transportation and choose and recruit any required personnel.

In the past months, she had spent more time on the ship than she had at the Institute. Time alone in a titanium-steel world that she was creating. But now the others would be coming. They would take possession of that world. She would become nothing but their chauffeur and social director; piloting them and solving their petty misunderstandings, as she always had, until they reached the sanctuary that Maximus had chosen. Once they reached that sanctuary she would be totally superfluous.

Not that she hadn't often felt that way, a sociologist /psychiatrist /psychologist surrounded by hard scientists. Even Maximus' military logistics/ political science, etc, had concrete, measurable applications and effects. The human psyche was not so observable as the battle field or the ballot box. She had escaped from that into the world of the ships but now that escape was ending.

It suddenly became clear to her that the group's escape from Galactic was no longer enough for her. They were leaving Galactic's cage only to enter a cage of their own design. To accomplish that, they had sent her out into a world they had no will to face, to do what they were not capable of doing. Well, she had tasted that world and she liked it. In the freedom and chaos of it, she had grown, changed. She wasn't knowledgeable enough to survive there yet but she was far too knowledgeable to ever again be satisfied with any cage.

Jenna looked at the man seated beside her. If he was the Key for the group's escape, could he serve as the key to her own personal one as well? But there was much more than that to consider. Yes, if she didn't want to end up an impoverished college professor or something else as equally superfluous and limiting as she had now, there was a great deal more to consider.

Her thoughts were interrupted by an alarm from the nav console. The location of the 'Butch Cassidy' was fast approaching.

"Secure yourselves, gentlemen, we will be going in hot."

The hanger that held the BC was at the farthest end of the port from the buildings that housed the control tower and the port security. The rent on it was cheap because the port authority took no responsibility for any vandalism or theft due to that location. She had her own security systems to deal with that problem and it served her need for privacy very well.

She punched the remote control on the console. Dropping fast, she leveled out just above the tarmac and swooped under the still rising hanger door. She was barely six feet from the bay door of the BC when she brought the skimmer to a motionless hover. Hitting the remote to open the bay, she switched to ground car mode, pulled the skimmer into the huge cargo hold and engaged its lock-downs.

She turned to look at her passengers. Riddle was smiling slightly but his hands were clinched and his knuckles showed white. Jeeter was calmly unfastening the web of cargo net in which he had cocooned himself. He returned her look with one of total confidence.

"So, Hot Stick, where you want me to store our loot while you and Barrol talk pilot stuff?"

'Hot Stick'. Jenna liked that. But something else that Jeeter said caught her attention even more; our loot. Though the consortium the group had formed would always have ample funds, her own contribution and therefore drawing account was very small. A life separate from the group would require much more in start-up money. The loot from G's vault, or at least her share of it, would go a long way to providing that.

"Store it in any of the lockers. Set your own combination on it. Once we reach the mother ship, I'll decide on a safe place until we can divide it into shares. And Mr. Jeeter, ..... those shares are your decision. Mr. Barrol and I would have walked out without any of it."

Jeeter smiled.

"Well, I couldn'ta walked outa there with it on my own so I figure even shares is fair. 'Course anything from now on, you get Captain's share, triple share."

Riddle's rumble of laughter made Jenna jump.

"Now, how do you know about Captain's share, Jeeter?"

"Oh, I filled out a crew for Tio sometimes. G didn't mind 'cause it helped him keep up with what Tio was doing. Lady gets Captain's share, you and me get crew share."

Riddle rumbled again.

"Well, that's what it would be if we were one of Tio's crews but I thought we were supposed to be going clean and legal."

"Oh, yeah."

Jeeter sounded a bit disappointed and Jenna found that she had a totally new set of data to absorb and speculate upon.
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Riddick was impressed as the woman escorted him around the outside of the ship. She was in perfect condition. Her trim design was beautiful. It was also very deceptive, hiding the fact that her cargo capacity was the greatest he had ever seen in an in-system freighter. He began to wonder if the ship had more secrets, as many or more than the skimmer, perhaps. He also began to wonder about the mother ship the woman had mentioned. So he asked.

"The 'Hole in the Wall' is a modified Tango class pod freighter. The 'Butch Cassidy' was redesigned to be able to transport whole pods from surface to orbit on this end and orbit to surface on the other. Everything on the Hole was manufactured in different locations, even different planets, and pod transported through several resale transactions before I finally received and transported them to her."

At the words 'pod freighter' an image of the Hunter-Gratzner flashed into Riddick's mind. He shoved it away and concentrated on the rest of what she had said. Tango class was at least seven generations later than the Hunter and a great deal larger with a cargo capacity that was massively greater because the improved Keller-drive units of the Tango class were five times as powerful while taking up less than 10% of the space those of the Hunter had required. They were also the fastest thing out there short of the space warping hyper-drives used by first class passenger liners, impossibly expensive personal yachts, the military and any raider who get his hands on one.

Riddick was, as Jeeter would put it, a Hot Stick with hyper-drive. The mind wrenching twist of it had never disoriented him as it did more than 95% of the human race. In fact, he liked it. But what he had liked a lot more was the fact that this had gotten him out of the fighters, which incidental had gotten him out of the mud. Then a chill went up his spine. It had also been required for this contract.

"That's a good security set up. But tell me something, if this in-system freighter and a Tango class are what you've got, why did you want a pilot who could jockey hyper?"

"Because, Mr. Riddle, the 'Butch Cassidy' and the 'Hole in the Wall' are equipped with both Keller-drive and hyper-drive. I am quite capable with Keller but I will expect you to teach me to 'jockey' the hyper."

Riddick shook his head.

"It isn't that easy. Have you ever went through hyper conscious?"

"Yes. Not a jump. Only the hyper field under laboratory conditions. It was ..... lovely."

Well, 'lovely' wasn't the word Riddick would use to describe his reaction to hyper, more like 'stoned out of your mind with total clarity', but 'lovely' was a lot more acceptable a description than the shrieking horrors that it gave most people. So, the woman was in the same elite 5% that he was. Interesting.

As she gave him a tour of the inside of the ship, he found nothing more that he hadn't expected. It could be as totally invisible to detection as the skimmer, had state of the art security scan and alarm systems and a hackers dream of a communication set up. Also, the ship was armed like a medium class destroyer. But then, as soon as he had known it had hyper, he had been almost certain that it would be armed. He wondered if the 'Hole in the Wall' was tricked out like a battle wagon.

This had started out as a simple deal and it was turning into a spider web. But who was the spider? The woman? No. She had the potential but not the experience. Probably the one she had referred to as the Mad Hatter, the one who needed to be 'informed'. But the woman was his only source of information at the moment. And such a sweet source.

He had been behaving since the exchange in the alley. Maybe it was time to shake things, her, up a little again. They had just entered the gangway leading from the bridge back to the hold. Lengthening his stride to put himself slightly in front of her, he turned sideways and blocked her way with his arm. When she tried to retreat he used the other arm to block that. He stepped toward her and she backed into the bulkhead and was trapped as he pressed his hands against it on either side of her.

"I think that it's time we discussed that 'perfect' identity you promised. Just how do you go about doing that, sweet thing?"

She relaxed against the bulkhead and closed her eyes. Her attitude was resigned patience. Her voice took on the tone often used by bored and overworked civil servants.

"There are forms on the Hole that you have to fill out. The first set will provide a detailed description of the new identity you wish to have: name, of course; education, training, experience, certificates and licenses; preferences in system and planet of origin, systems and planets you wish to claim knowledge of; preference in race, religion and class; etc. I suggest that you do not choose anything that you can not back up with your present knowledge and abilities. The second set of forms will give us a detailed record of your true identity. The more accurate and truthful you are on these forms the more perfect your change of identity will be."

As she was speaking, Riddick had been slowly leaning closer to her. Even though her eyes were closed he knew she was aware of it. He could hear the increasing tension in her voice as she struggled to keep it dully non-responsive. He was sure that the flush slowly creeping up her face wasn't helping her. He was almost cheek to cheek with her when she came to the second set of forms. He whispered his opinion of them with his lips only a breath away from her ear.

"I don't think so, sweet thing. Who I really am is not something that I'm going to tell anyone."

He heard the catch in her breathing before she tried to continue speaking in the same uneffected voice she had started with. She didn't do a very good job of it.

"Mr. Riddle, the secret in changing identities successfully isn't in creating the new one but in preventing the old one from coming back to haunt you. We need to know every possible location in which that old identity is recorded so that we can replace all identifiers with ones that are not yours; DNA, retinal scan, finger prints, even dental and medical records if necessary. Then it doesn't matter what disguises you choose, or for that matter do not choose, to employ. No matter how much you look like you the records will prove that you are not you."

Riddick had slowly moved his face across hers, still not touching her, and now whispered into her other ear.

"Just who is the 'we' that has to know all this."

She gave up all pretense. Her voice was low and throaty.

"Actually .... just the March Hare. .... He's ... the expert hacker."

"But you'd like to know, too, wouldn't you, sweet thing."

"Yes."

The word was almost a moan. Riddick drew back until he could see her face.

"I'll make you a deal. I'll let you see my forms ...." A very heavy purr on that one. ".. if you come up with a new name for me that I like."

Her eyes flew open with shock.

"What?!"

Riddick was quite please with her reaction. With a wicked smile he lowered his arms and backed up a few steps.

"I've used so many aliases, I'm named out. You find one I like enough to live with for the rest of my life and I'll tell you who I really am."

Her face was still flushed but now thoughtful.

"How can I choose a name when I know nothing about you. Can I ask questions? Not anything that would reveal who you are but other things about you?"

"Sure, as long as I don't have to answer if I don't want to ... and I get to ask you questions, too."

She nodded in agreement to that.

"Then what name will you use until we agree on a new one?"

Riddick took advantage of this to remove an irritating barrier that she had been using.

"You can call me Barrol in public, like you do in front of Jeeter, and Riddle in private." He liked hearing her come so close to saying his name. "But you put a 'Mr' on either one again and the deal is off."

With a look of regret, she shook her head.

"Then I'm afraid that it is off." Then she looked embarrassed. "It's the others. ..... it's ....... With the exception of very close acquaintances, only servants and other inferiors are addressed by their surnames only."

She had actually hung her head as she uttered this last. Well, well, the 'lady' was ashamed of her own kind.

"But that's what we are isn't it, Jeeter and me? Hired help from the wrong side of town? Uneducated, uncivilized criminals? Inferior in every way?"

Her head shot up. There was fire in her eyes. She was pissed.

"NO!"

Riddick wasn't going to settle for that.

"No? Then what are we?"

"The epitome of what makes the human race 'top of the food chain' where ever it goes."

Damn. Pithy, cold and savagely eloquent. Also, correct. If he'd of had a troop of 'cappers' on that black planet, the monsters would be well on their way to extinction. But while civilized society was very willing to use that kind of talent for their own purposes, they feared it and degraded it and those who had it. The woman said it as if it were the greatest compliment that anyone could ever be paid.

"And what does that make those 'others'?"

"Sheep."

There wasn't any condemnation in the way she said this. It was just fact, truth, the way the universe was put together.

"And you?"

He had placed his hand on her waist, intending to pull her to him. But before he could do that, she closed the gap between them, stepping into his embrace voluntarily. Riddick had never been in a standing clinch before with a woman standing just as tall as he did. Face to face straight on like this only happened when he had a woman flat on her back under him or had his hands on her butt lifting her off of the floor. He enjoyed having that same perspective while still on his feet and his hands completely free. He was going to have to make sure that she had a closet full of those damn shoes.

"I don't know. I'm not one of them any more but I'm ...... I'm not sure what I am becoming. Will you allow me to use the 'Mr' when I introduce you and when I mention you to them and still make our deal if I promise not to use it when I address you directly?"

Riddick congratulated himself. He had certainly pushed the right button with that idea. Her curiosity was her key. Of course, he had no intention of ever paying off on the deal; no more intention than he had to fill out those second forms for her 'March Hare'. He'd take the righteous shine and the new identity, keep his hairy disguise and make the best of it. The 'deal' would be his excuse for stalling on the forms. At the same time his being able to ask her personal questions with a pretty good chance that she would answer them would be a very enjoyable game.

"Yes. 'Mr' to them, no 'Mr' to me and the deal is on. Now, what's you first question?"

Riddick was hopeful that she would come up with something interesting to ask. She didn't disappoint him. In fact, her question was a lot more interesting that he had planned on.

"All right, .... Riddle." There was a nervous tremor in her voice. "Why don't you just kiss me and get it over with?"

Oh, she was being so brave. Riddick wondered just how brave.

"Because, sweet thing, .. if I kiss you .. it won't be over. ... It will just be starting."

She closed her eyes, her tongue moistening her lips, and signed softly.

"I know."

He moved his lips toward hers very slowly, savoring the moment. Just before they touched a shrill alarm cut through the ship. Her eyes flew open and with a muttered curse, "Son of a fucking bitch! The com.", she tore herself from his arms and ran toward the bridge.

The first shock had been those words coming out of her mouth; the second, the strength he had felt when she pulled free. If that was only hot and bothered and frustrated ........ He was still immersed in some very entertaining speculation when he heard Jeeter's soft cough.

"What are you doing here? Planning on coming to your 'Lady's' rescue?"

Jeeter grinned at him.

"Well, that was the idea. Now, I think I'll just wait a bit. See just who's gonna need rescuing."

The little man disappeared back into the hold before Riddick could even growl at him. Riddick was left standing in the gangway wondering just what in the hell Jeeter thought he was talking about.