II. Time Dilation

Long ago, people had thought they could travel the stars in one or two lifetimes. They thought they could see the moon, Jupiter, and Alpha Centauri, and be home in time for dinner. But faster-than-light travel does something curious to time. Most people, even those who'd traveled in space before, never thought about relativity, until it slapped them in the face. They would return home to find their families and friends any number of years older than they should have been.

Riddick had learned to take advantage of this. Literally leaving his past behind, he took a perverse pleasure in abetting the universe's dirty tricks. By the time the penal system had given up on him, sentencing him to spend the rest of his life in the hell of Slam, a criminal record spanning well over a century on his home planet had given Riddick the reputation of a god. Reality actors were his long-lost siblings, psychics credited him with terrifying mental powers, and countless tabloid women bore his children.

Many years later, Riddick would use that same dirty trick of time on himself. Those months Riddick had spent planet-hopping had not just been to gather a stash of weapons. It had given a pretty young girl time to grow up into a beautiful woman. Jack had lived five years in the span of a few months of Riddick's life. But now, in a few achingly slow cryogenic heartbeats, she could have already used up the rest of her future.

The first thing Riddick's eyes locked onto, when they opened after a long slice of eternity, were Jack's lifesigns. Breathing was slow, pulse erratic, and blood pressure lower than it should have been—but by God those lifesigns were there.

The floor shifted and groaned under Riddick's feet as the Nightfall's attitude adjusted, settling into orbit over Janus. Pulling his bloodstained clothes back on, Riddick punched in silent running, bypassing Janus' spaceport and its auto-identification system. The Nightfall burned through the upper atmosphere, tearing open the black, moonless sky as it made for the same crater it had once occupied, far out in the wilds of the two-faced world.

Engines thrumming, she settled down into the dust of the courtyard. Riddick barely remembered to shut down the outer lights before he lowered the ramp, leaving Jack still in stasis in her tank. As he exited the ship, he hastily noted small differences—more caverns carved from the face of the crater; people hurrying into and out of many of the caverns, seemingly unafraid of the winged predators they met and passed; even a decorative fountain had been put in.

All the marks of civilization, he thought as a sudden frenzy of wings and teeth and unearthly whoops surrounded him. Trying to suppress his chills, he waited, unmoving, till the creatures settled around him. Even a greeting party.

"I know you freaks of fucking nature can understand me," he grated. "There is a very sick woman on board my ship. Get help out here. Now."

Other than the hypnotically swaying heads, the creatures didn't move. If he concentrated, he could just hear the subsonic rumble of their soundings. Then one of them rose on its serpentine tail, spread its talons, and grinned. The dry rasp of a footstep sounded behind him, and he turned to face—

"Kat."

Turning her head slightly, Kat addressed the surrounding beasts. "Well? What are you waiting for? Get a medical team here immediately. Tell them to bring a stretcher." All but one of the creatures scattered, disappearing into various burrows. The remaining one was heavily scarred, with ruined wings. With a quiet "This way" chirr, it led the human pair into the hive.

"Where's Imam? I expected him to meet us."

The ex-slave gave a stiff smile. "He'll be overjoyed to see you, I'm sure."

What the hell does that mean? It struck Riddick suddenly that Kat had aged, and not well. Fine, angry lines had begun to etch through the thin fur on her face, and her eyes had lost their amber gleam.

"How long has it been on this end?"

"Fifteen years." Kat's hand brushed the phosphorescent side of the lichen covered corridor, lending her fingertips a faint glow. The creature guiding them paused occasionally to sweep rocks and debris out of the way.

Riddick felt like a dog being led along on a leash. He itched to get back to the Nightfall, back to Jack. Irrationally, he thought she might die if he wasn't there, and his mind wouldn't let go of the fear.

Jack's not going to die, he growled to himself. Don't even fucking think it.

They finally reached what must have been an infirmary. The artificially clean smell of the place broadcast its purpose, but as Riddick entered, the sickly-sweet odor of old blood assaulted him. Somehow, someone had gotten to the ship; Jack's pitiful, broken body was already there.

Two men, swathed in bloodied gowns and masks, worked over her, cleaning out the hideous wounds on her chest. Several bags of blood were already hung next to Jack, one hooked via an IV to her arm. Jack's face was pale and unresponsive. Her hair, which he'd finally cajoled her into growing out, was stiff with ichor. The two doctors had taken out Riddick's clumsy stitching and were cleaning more of the alien blood out of the rips in her flesh.

Someone shoved a chair into his legs, and he collapsed into it.

When he tore his eyes away from Jack, he saw an older woman, covered in small bronze scales, behind him. She gave him a tight, but not unsympathetic smile, and turned to another bed. Riddick let his gaze follow her, desperate for anything to look at other than Jack's body. But the woman stood in front of the other bed for several seconds, and what little he could see of the occupant was blocked by Kat's form.

But then the woman stalked out of the infirmary, and Riddick was left wondering how even fifteen years could do so much damage.

"Help me sit up." Imam's voice was just a shadow of what it had once been. "Hello, Mr. Riddick. It is good to see you again." He looked like he wanted to say more, but a fit of coughing seized him. He held a cloth to his mouth till the racking coughs let him go.

When Imam dropped his hand, the rag was spotted with dark patches. "How badly was Jack injured?" he whispered.

Riddick hesitated, swallowing the dull pain in his own throat. He rubbed his hand over the stubble on his head. "She'll be fine in a few days."

A wheezing chuckle. "You have lost your knack for barefaced lies, I think." Another cough, and then: "And has she been happy?"

Riddick gazed back over at Jack's bed, where the white suits were now stitching her neatly up. "She look happy to you right now?"

But when Riddick turned back to Imam, the old man had slumped back on the pillow, eyes closed.

"It's the spores," Kat said. Her gaze wandered aimlessly around the room, seeming to settle into empty space.

"Spores?"

"From the mushroom trees. Most of us only have a mild allergic reaction to them, but Imam developed a lung disease. The spores get into everything. There's no place clean enough on this whole damn planet for him to recover. And he refuses to leave. He says all he wants is to see his boys again."

Kat's eyes spilled over with tears, and her hand groped on Imam's bed for his cloth. Doesn't she realize it's covered with—

But Kat wiped her eyes, leaving small streaks of blood on her lids.

Then everything came together for Riddick. The creature leading Kat along, Kat's hand always touching the wall, Kat's empty gaze... She didn't look at Riddick—didn't look at anything—because she couldn't see anymore. She couldn't see Jack lying there with stitches holding her body together. She couldn't even see Imam dying.

The universe liked to play dirty tricks, and time was only one of the things it twisted.