The communicator beeped again, insistently. Damn, he forgot about the override. She was pulling away. With great reluctance, he let her go.

He retrieved the communicator, not excited about it. "What?"

"Sire, you were right. They all had the element laced through them. We almost sent the prisoners through the conversion process before we determined that. Sire, they would have destroyed the conversion chambers and punched holes in the containment fields. It would have been catastrophic."

"Damn."

"We're taking them away from the city, going to try to disarm them."

"Good. Well done. And Vaako?"

"Sire?"

"No more interruptions. You're in charge."

Vaako's voice dropped, reverent. "Yes Sire." He switched off the communicator. Thought about breaking it. Then he came aware of Jack. Jack, stricken, was backing away from him. "Shit, shit, shit."

Fuck, what now? "Jackie . . ."

"I'm an idiot."

He advanced on her slowly. "Jackie . . ."

"Don't you see? I'm an idiot. Should have kept my fucking mouth shut."

Her words were not making any sense to him. "You did good. Probably saved lives."

"No I didn't! They would have! Their deaths might have saved billions!"

It finally slid into place. She was horrified at herself for helping the Necromongers. For helping me.

He ran his hands over his head, trying to regain composure. "Jack . . ."

She collapsed to the ground, hugging her knees close to her chest. The face she turned up to him was already tear streaked.

He crouched beside her and awkwardly patted her back. "Jackie. It's okay."

She shook her head, violently, talking so fast he could barely understand her. "You don't get it, do you? I thought they were just trying to kill you. Stupid plan. I love -- I don't want you dead. I even get why you are in charge. I get your reasons. But Necromongers are evil. That plan could have worked. They would have punched holes in the Necropolis, probably attacked while you were disoriented. Might even have brought it all down. And I fucked it up. Because I was showing off. Because I wanted to impress you. Because I . . ." Her voice trailed off, miserably. She was beginning to cry, quiet, keening, miserable cries.

He rocked back. "You could have died too."

She stopped crying. Her voice was low and intense. "You think I wouldn't die to stop the Necroverse?"

Not acceptable. He stood up. His voice was flat. "Go wash your face."

She looked up at him, not comprehending.

"Wash it. Or I will."

She took a deep ragged breath, and fled to the bathroom. He stared after her. Retrieved his communicator. "Vaako."

"Sire?"

"I think we might be attacked. I think the mission might have been a Trojan Horse. Get us prepared. I'll be there soon, but you're in charge. Do what you think needs to be done."

"Yes, Sire," Vaako's still-reverent voice replied. A few details led to a few more. Finally, he flipped off the communicator. Went after Jack.

She'd locked the bathroom, unaware, perhaps, that no lock in the Necropolis would stay sealed against him. She jumped when he walked in.

She'd washed her face already, removing every trace of the makeup. Her face was puffy. But she wasn't crying. He was glad of that. She was strangely calm.

He lifted her on the high bathroom counter. She made a furtive gesture with her right hand and before he realized what he was doing, he had her wrist. She had a forgotten straight razor in her small hand.

"Whatcha doing with this, Jack?"

She wouldn't look at him. Didn't answer.

Was she going to slit her own throat? Try to slit mine?

He took it from her.

"I'm going to give you a choice, Jack."

She looked up at him. The distress in her face nearly broke his heart.

He kept his voice flat. "You can spend the next few days in the med deck in restraints, 'til you're over this. Or you can come with me, and promise not to hurt yourself."

She looked down miserably. "Please don't tie me up. I can't stand that again. I'll go with you."

"Good girl." He was so close to her she was almost straddling him. If only she was. Fighting the urge to fuck her senseless, he settled for wrapping his arms around her and hugging her hard. She hugged back, desperately, as if she was drowning and he was the only buoyant thing in the waters.

He took her to the command center. Vaako vacated the center seat with alacrity. He gripped the man's arm, warmly, and was surprised at the warmth of his return grasp.

"What we got?"

There was worship in the man's eyes. "A fleet of ten thousand ships on an intercept course. Heavily shielded; we might not have seen them if we had not looked for them specifically. Our fighters are in formation. We will be victorious. Thanks to you."

Riddick jerked his head toward Jack. "Thank her. She figured it out. What do you recommend, Vaako?"

Vaako looked at Jack, blinked a few times. "We have a good position. So we wait until they are in range. Make them engage on our terms."

He nodded. "Sounds good."

He'd let Jack go when he gripped Vaako's arm. She'd eased her way back to a wall. He gave her a warning look. She nodded, briefly. Everything became quiet.

"Sir," one of the tech's voice called out, wondering. "We're being hailed by the flagship."

"Everyone wants to talk to me today," Riddick growled. "What the fuck is up with that?

The tech continued, "Sire, they are rebroadcasting this to their fleet."

Riddick glanced at Jack who said, miserably, "Probably propaganda. They are going to accuse you of slaughtering a peace mission." He nodded. He gestured to the tech, and, for perhaps the first time, a non-Necromonger appeared on the main screen.

The man's eyes were burning with the fire of a true believer. "You killed my wife! She came to sue for peace, and you killed her!"

Riddick scowled at the picture. And then started to laugh. "Pentheselia is your wife?"

"Yes! I am Duke Cecile Tardis, the righteous hammer of the gods and you will be destroyed!"

Riddick laughed, only partially at the man's name. "She's not dead, Cecile."

Real shock passed over the man's face. "What?"

"Yeah. Damndest thing. Seems she's . . . infected with some sort of explosive agent. They all were. The whole diplomatic mission that came to offer an alliance. Including the prisoners. Hey, send over the offer she made wouldya?" A tech scrambled to comply.

Her voice came, ghostly over the channel, rebroadcast to the Illium fleet by the Illium flagship. "I am here to give you an alliance. My father controls an armada of fifty thousand ships. Almost as large as yours. We are willing to make your war our war. We are willing to unite our forces."

Riddick lounged back in the chair, actually enjoying this, thanks to Jack. "So we've moved all of them a safe distance away. Got 'em all in a heavy stasis field. Hopefully, we can keep them all alive."

The man's face reappeared on the screen, stricken. "A trick."

"Been thinkin' it might be. But I'm a trusting soul, so I'm still considering her offer."

The man was shocked speechless. Riddick leaned forward, intimately.

"So you know how to fix her up? Hate to have her die of this. Kinda like her." He paused, thoughtfully, drawing the silence out.

"You got authority to negotiate, brother?"

The man cut the signal.

There was more silence.

The signal was back. Riddick nodded, and the man's face appeared on the screen, still stricken. "Limited authority. Are you offering terms?"

"Sure. You surrender right now. You and your army join us. You help me fix her, and you two live happily ever after. You can both be generals in my army. You refuse, we kill you all. Except her, maybe."

The silence was back. Finally, the man said, "I accept your terms."

Huh. That was easy. "Good. You and your command crew come over in a shuttle. Unarmed." The connection was severed.

Jack was staring at the floor. Came aware of feet in front of her. Looked up into a man's face, Vaako's face, his eyes shining with something like adoration. "Hail, lady."

"What?"

He grasped her passive hands, wonderingly, sank down on one knee. "You made this possible. A total victory, without firing a shot. Because you had the brilliance to see through their plan." He kissed her hands reverently.

Felt ungracious to pull away, but his adoration was multiplying her misery. And the reverent murmurs spreading through the room were like tiny cuts. She managed to smile down on him. He pressed her hands to his forehead, and stood up.

He towered over her. He gripped her arm, gently. "If I can ever do anything for you, lady . . ." He saluted, and was gone.

Everyone saw it. Even Riddick, who had one of his half smiles on his face.

She found herself morbidly eyeing a soldier's gun, in a holster, unsecured. He was busy at a console. Kyra had made her practice taking weapons out of other people's holsters until the move was smooth. I could grab that. Bullet in the brain pan . . . unconsciously,she started to ease towards him.

Riddick's hand closed hard on her shoulder. She hadn't seen him move. Breathed into her ear. "Don't. You. Dare."

The words ripped down to her core. Don't you cry for Johns. Don't you dare . . . She blinked back new tears.

"I don't feel so good."

He scowled at her. Looked around. Eyes fell on a man. "Nirgal."

"My lord?"

Jack followed the voice. Swallowed. She recognized that man. She'd pulled out of his grip once. Only once. She could feel, again, the relentless grip of those hands on her neck, around her waist, pinning her, trapping her, bruising her. She shot a pleading look at Riddick. His eyes were completely unreadable. Did he know this man's hands had been on her before? Was he punishing her by putting her back in the hands of a man . . . of a man . . .

Of a man who kept you from committing suicide, a rational voice cut through. Yeah. He knows that.

God, he must think I'm a piece of work. No wonder he's been so fucking slow and careful. Afraid I'd melt down. Like I'm doing now. Her eyes prickled hot again, ashamed.

Riddick's low growl cut through. "Take her to the med deck, have 'em check her out. And Nirgal – make sure she stays safe."


After a thorough exam by a doctor who kept giving her strangely intimate looks, they led her through a large empty section of the med deck to a comfortable room, and left her there. There was a bed big enough for two, two chairs, and a sink. Otherwise, the room was empty.

Nirgal had stayed with her the whole time. Became an almost comforting presence. Not a talker.

At last, she laid down on the bed and closed her eyes, fully clothed. Couldn't even figure out how to get the necklace off, and wasn't about to ask for help.

She'd lost track of time, but it felt very late. Nirgal had thoughtfully dimmed the lights, and she drifted in out of fitful dreams of floating in warm and dark waters under a blood red moon. Riddick and the Necroverse felt very far away.

After a long time, her drifting dreams were wrecked by a soft rap on the door. Tier, the telepath she had met back in Arden, slid in, gripping Nirgal's arm in an affectionate way as he passed.

"The Lord Marshal sent me. Nirgal, can you wait outside?"

Nirgal made eye contact with Jack, spoke for the first time. "Shout if you need me." He left, quietly.

Tier smiled at her again. "Thought you might like someone to talk to."

"Not really."

He sat on one of the soft chairs. "Ma'am, before I was a Necromonger, I was a counselor. I can help you if you let me."

She took a deep breath, despite herself. "Help me with what?"

He looked down for a moment, as if embarrassed. "With the fact that one of the defining moments in your life was being kidnapped by brutal, heavily armed men and gang raped. With the fact you have been kidnapped by brutal, heavily armed men and have no choice about sharing a bed with one of them. And then there's your suicidal ideation."

She stared at him. Am I that transparent? Oh, fuck. He was in my head. He must have told Riddick about . . . oh god, how much did he tell Riddick? Riddick hadn't asked any questions about what had happened. Maybe he didn't need to. Maybe that's why he hadn't kissed her before today; maybe the thought of all those men inside of her had sickened him. Maybe he thought she'd be sickened.

After a long pause, she asked, carefully, "how are you going to help me with any of this?"

"I can try to help you . . . reach an accommodation with the hard facts of your new life."

After a long time, she admitted in a small voice, "I'm so scared."

"Jack, no sane person wouldn't be terrified. What you've been through --"

"Not about that! About you! The Necroverse wants to destroy all life in the universe. That's so wrong I can't get my head around it. And I'm in middle of it."

He looked at her steadily. "We'll talk about the Necroverse in a bit. I think you might not understand it. I was talking about something more personal. Riddick. You're afraid of him."

"No, I'm not."

"Jack, you reek of it. Before converted, I counseled many clients who were in abusive relationships. I recognize some of what's going on with you."

She stood up and started to pace. "Riddick's not abusive. He's never hurt me."

"You mean he hasn't hit you? I can believe that. But he had you taken. He has you isolated. He has complete control of you. Where you sleep. When you eat. If you eat. That kind of control is a type of abuse. Even if he isn't taking it any further than that. And it easily could become very abusive."

It fell from her mouth before she could stop it. "You think I don't know that?"

"Just getting it into the open."

"So what's your solution?"

He sighed. "It may not be so simple. Everyone lives with constraints. Yours are a little more obvious right now.

"If you didn't hate the Necroverse, I'd say you need to get some power. Ask for responsibility. He obviously adores you; he'll give it to you. He'd give you almost anything. Get some space to do work you believe in."

But he's given me that, she realized, dimly. By giving her permission, almost an invitation, to try to bring it all down. But I fucked it up tonight. Her eyes were filling with tears.

Tier had to notice. "Since you hate the Necroverse . . ." He trailed off. His eyes were tender, compassionate. There was a long silence.

Finally, he sighed. "I know what needs to happen."

"What?"

He smiled at her, his eyes now burning with something like love. "Convert."