Five

"So why…did you steal two, uh….two ships…back then?" Maddie asked me as we left orbit some minutes later, drowsy with the chemical cocktail that was steadily pumping itself through her veins.

"Mmm…I stole two…because I crashed the first one."

"Oh yeah…makes sense…."

I have always hated cryo-sleep. I've never liked the idea of not knowing exactly where I'll be when I wake. Uncertainty rarely enters into my life, and as a result I am quite unaccustomed to and uncomfortable with it. But more than that, it is because the higher mind becomes dormant in cryo-sleep, leaving only the primitive animal side. I had made a point of controlling my animal side through a strict application of the intellect for several years then, and the sudden stripping of that intellect brought on a whole host of less-than-pleasant sensations.

As always, images slipped in and out of focus, visions of my life and its course. My hands on my father's face, the corners of his kind, grey eyes crinkled with laughter. My hands clutching the warm, sticky fabric of his shirt as he lay in the street. My hands pushing Luciana under the bed while our mother's shadow grew shorter in the hallway. My hands holding a gun while four adults cuffed themselves to the radiator. My hands striking a match and dropping it into a splash of critonene. All pieces of a psychological puzzle. One plus one equals two.

I saw a pair of pupil-less blue eyes, shining like moonstones in the darkness. I drifted toward them. The sun was warm on my back, the night bathing my face in silky coolness. A pair of strong hands closed over my waist and lifted me skyward….

I jerked awake and immediately regretted it. My head was pounding. I clamped my hands over my eyes to shut out the brightness of the Piranha's cabin lights and squinted through my fingers at the chronometer—it was now 3:16 p.m. on Goliath, July 31st. We had been sleeping for a mere three weeks.

"Not bad at all, little boy," I murmured groggily, patting the guageboard, but my hand froze as it passed through the holographic starchart. A small planet revolved slowly, almost ominously, where a much larger and brighter one should have been. We were in the wrong system.

"I hate cryo-sleep," I muttered. Even my irrational fears proved rational. Being constantly correct is such a burden.

"Don't you know all ships are female?" Maddie croaked from behind me. I could see her reflection massaging her lower back in the dark screen of my main canon console. "Thank God we're done with that hike. I don't like waking up a month older."

"Well, you can give yourself back a week of your life," I said, pointing to the display with one hand while I guided the Piranha through its descent with the other. "This isn't Helion Prime, Maddie."

"What? Then where the hell are we?"

"Furya, and we've already passed into its atmosphere. We're just over the Kespartanes, so I'm going to have to open the shutters so I can keep from killing us. You may want to cover your eyes." As I said it, the outer shields slid slowly back from the cockpit and a strange light flooded the cabin. I understood then why the planet was so widely thought to be cursed. There was a distinctly inhospitable quality to the place, particularly in the active volcanoes I was quickly steering away from. Because I had made Riddick a hobby in prison, Furya and its geography were familiar to me. I had never expected to see it with my own eyes, however. Its orbit was unpredictable; it was nearly impossible to find.

Maddie sat back heavily in her seat. Her hands gripped her knobbly knees very tightly. "But how?" she kept whispering. "How?"

I understood her. Returning to Furya must have been very painful to her. It was a place of death, where an entire generation of the race had been eradicated. Exterminated. Maddie had been away for 40 years, and so she had not been there when it happened. Her memories of Furya were very different from the ghost world that met her now. I, too, felt a very palpable sense of loss.

Landing with the Piranha was simple. We touched down on a low plateau, and I unbuckled my harness and raked my hands through my hair, taking in our surroundings. Twisted trees, over-thin in their nudity, stuck out from the ground like crude crosses. The shadows of the mountain range Kespartanes threw the valley below us into perpetual twilight. There was little evidence of life anywhere. I wondered if it had always been like this, or if the world had died with its people. After a moment, I chastised myself for such ridiculous mystical thinking.

"Alessandra…" came Maddie's anguished voice. "You know I trust you. But please tell me why we're here."

I stood up and smoothed out the folds of my sleek red dress, wishing I had worn something a bit more practical to my sister's parricide. It looked as though we might be doing some climbing. My hand drifted toward my head, which was still aching, but stopped halfway. I felt strange, feverish. How odd…. "I don't know what brought us here. Perhaps Mr. X accessed the ship's computer while we were asleep. If that is the case, he must believe that Riddick is here. If it is not…" I smiled grimly. "Furya is not such a bad place to start looking."

But in a deep, unnamable place, I knew Riddick was near. I had never had such feelings before; I have always relied strictly on observable facts for my conclusions. But I knew, just as I knew I could feel Riddick's presence, that I could trust this feeling. It was merely a…different sort of observation. My world was spinning around me. My intellect told me to sit down and wait for the sensations to ease, but this new intuitive side urged me desperately on. I shook my head, trying to clear it, but it only made the pain worse.

"Maddie, we should go now. I've set the ship to autopilot; it will come to us if I summon it with this." I indicated the ignition chip, which I had clipped to a pendant that hung from my neck, and held out my hand. "We'll head north."

"Why north?" Maddie asked, but she allowed herself to be pulled to her feet.

"Into the night," I said absently, remembering a dream.

---

The air was thin even at our low altitude, and I understood then why Furyans operated at such high efficiency on more earth-like planets. The craggy slopes over which Maddie and I carefully picked our way were of a jagged red stone covered in a fine blanket of earth and ash. I marveled, as I had many times while incarcerated, at the fact that she moved only a bit more slowly I did, and was hardly winded by the effort. A military-issue rifle was strapped across her narrow back; we had discovered a small arsenal in a compartment inside the Piranha, courtesy, no doubt, of Mr. X and company. Despite growing up on the streets of a very bad neighborhood, I had never actually fired a gun, but like so many children of the ghetto, I had acquired a thorough education in the use of the blade.

Along with a number of hunting knives and daggers, Mr. X had whimsically provided a long, thin sword reminiscent of an old earth weapon, the katana—but with some subtle differences, which I did not have time to explore. Although I was intrigued by the sword, I had decided to leave it behind for the present, until I could practice with it. I brought a selection of smaller blades instead.

The pain in my head was reaching an intolerable level, now. As we climbed toward the summit of a large hill, my stomach lurched. My vision was slowly becoming blurry. I tried to remember my plan for Riddick's capture—he was so close—but the throbbing drowned out all thought.

"S-stop," I gasped, holding up a hand. I doubled over and vomited.

Maddie was at my side in an instant, rescuing my hair from certain defilement. "Christ, Angel, what's wrong?"

I could only continue to empty my stomach in reply. I couldn't feel my hands, my feet, or anything in between. I couldn't see.

"Alessandra, you can't afford to be dehydrated in a place like this. I want you to try to sip this water—Fuck, you're burning up! You've got a bad fever. Why the fuck didn't you tell me you weren't feeling well before? What the hell were you thinking, going out like this? Alessa! Stay with me, Angelface…."

I felt the strangely downy soil of Furya against my face. I breathed its smoky scent. I thought, Ah, I've been dreaming the whole ti….

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"Shit, Angel…"

Alessandra's unconscious form slumped against the ground—mercifully far enough from what she might have politely called "her stomach's evicted contents." Her long, dark hair pooled around her like some kind of black halo. With her perfect body and otherworldly beauty, she always reminded me of a fallen angel. That was why I had chosen to continue to call her by her prison taunt, albeit with better intentions. She was my corrupted angel, a perfect being tainted by the darkness of her mind. I understood her, but I knew I would never be her equal in anything, despite what she might say. Frankly, I didn't think I ever wanted to be.

I lifted Alessandra over my shoulders and was about to press the chip on her necklace when I suddenly heard a low roaring sound from above. Fuckin' mercs, no doubt. I dove on top of her in the shelter of a stand of trees and brush overlooking a low cliff. A decent-sized ship came down overhead and swept low over us, scanning something below the cliff. I rolled off of my still-unconscious Angel and crawled on elbows to the edge of the cliffside, getting my plasma rifle ready.

"Sorry, honey, you're not missing much. This part is my show, anyway," I whispered.

Then I saw the graves. There were thousands…no…tens of thousands…of baby boys laying there under the dirt. Helpless, never having known love, never having known sorrow or joy or anything at all but fear and pain and then darkness. I was looking over a valley pockmarked with graves. I wondered…had I had any grandchildren slaughtered by those motherfuckers? My daughter was dead, dead before I even knew she had gotten married while I was away on my long tour of duty. I didn't even know his name, because he was dead, too.

My grip tightened on the stock of my rifle. I wanted to use it on someone. Anyone. I wanted to fucking kill. Fuck that con, Riddick. I wanted the Necromongers, and I wanted them now.

I felt Angel stir beside me, and it broke my trance. "Your training, Madeline…" was she said before lapsing back into unconsciousness. Instantly, I berated myself—briefly—for letting myself get all shook up and distracted. Angelface, you are damn good. I had no idea what was wrong with her right now, but whatever it was, she was obviously fighting it somewhere inside. I didn't know jack shit about medicine, besides treating gunshot wounds or broken bones.

The ship pivoted and swung back toward us, and as its shadow fell over us, another shadow leapt through the air and landed right in front of me, on all fours, like a hunting cat. In one swift movement, he knocked the gun from my hands and clamped his free hand over my mouth.

"Don't move. Don't talk," he said quickly. His voice was a low rumble, like thunder.

I knew better than to fight him while a merc ship was flying around overhead, and seriously doubted I could've done anything to him, anyway. He was almost supernaturally strong.

Alpha Furyan strong? Could it be him?

Alessandra stirred again, and this time for good, it seemed. She opened her eyes, took in the situation, and immediately closed them again. That's right, let him think you're still out.

The ship began to put some distance between us and it. Once it had moved far enough away, the Furyan—oh, there was no mistaking it, now—let go of me, but kept my rifle for himself. He was a tall, extremely well-muscled man with a shaven head black goggles over his eyes. I'd seen his picture, and I knew who he was.

"Hello, Riddick."

"Are you mercs?" he demanded quietly—but there was no mistaking the note of danger in his tone.

"Well, we're not getting paid if that's what you mean. We did come to talk to you." As an afterthought, I pulled the collar of my shirt down, exposing a portion of my chest. A light blue handprint glowed gently there, as it had for several months, now. "We were hoping you'd come with us."

If Riddick was surprised, he didn't show it. Maybe Angelface would have been able to read some tiny sign, but I sure as hell couldn't.

"Who are you?" he asked.

"Madeline Rosier, a Furyan."

For some reason, this seemed to have had a profound affect on him. It was kind of hard to tell, because of the goggles, but I'm willing to bet his eyes were wide. He didn't say anything for several seconds, but then he began to chuckle in a derisive sort of way.

"It figures," he said with a smirk. "So you finally decided to come home…Grandma."