3 – The Captain

Riddick examined the marks on Xen's neck with a frown. The thug had left bruises that were just beginning to turn purple. It was an ugly reminder that while they were given relative safety aboard The Longshot they still weren't immune to injury inflicted by the other passengers. Such it was on a cargo hauler that bore illegal materials and hardened lawbreakers. Xen brushed him off with a smirk.

"I'm not a damsel in distress, you know. I would have been able to take of care of myself."

It was Riddick's turn to grin.

"Next time I see someone strangling you then, I'll leave you alone."

She couldn't tell if he was joking or not.

They were on a small landing halfway up to the captain's quarters. The wooden stairs were encased in a rickety shaft that ran a dozen feet up from the floor of the Barrel, lit sparsely by iron lanterns hanging from the walls that bathed them in a warm yellow glow. Dark shadows were cast on their faces. It was swelteringly hot in the cramped area and they were both sweating. The light shone on Riddick's skin, making the moisture that clung to him glisten like oil. All he wore was a simple black tank and cargos that revealed thick cords of muscle that would make a nun look twice. He took up a large portion of the landing which didn't leave much room for Xen, but she didn't necessarily have a problem with that.

On the contrary she was enjoying the close proximity; it was a sweet temptation for the energy reaper. She hadn't fed in days and was nearly panting for want of a feed. The energy flowing from the huge man was enveloping her in a hazy fog that was making her head swim like a boat on stormy waters. His touch was an electric zing down her spine. She was close to begging him for just a moment with her hands pressed to his chest so she could just get a taste of his fire, but restraint held her back. That wasn't what they were there for. Breathing in deeply anyway, she couldn't help when her eyelids fluttered at his scent.

A deep rumbling laugh told her he had noticed her preoccupation.

"I know I'm a looker but if you want to get down and dirty I'd much prefer somewhere else," Riddick said, his silver eyes sparkling. Xen blushed, shaking her head to try and clear it.

"Sorry. I'm just…I haven't fed in a while," she mumbled back.

"I can tell. Let's just stick to the plan and then we can work something out. You said last time you saw the captain he mentioned something about keys to the ship's shuttles."

Xen was momentarily distracted from Riddick's delicious aura by the memory of the last game she had played with Wahls. They had been an hour into cards and he had been drinking. With a little prying she had managed to make him slip that he kept keys to the shuttles on him at all times. Didn't trust his thugs to not break into his quarters and try to escape on him. So far that was their only lead in getting off The Longshot. Frye, Jack, Imam, Paris, Zeke, and Shazza were still on board and would need to be informed of the plan before they could leave, something that would need organizing and a lot of luck.

"Yeah, they're probably attached to his belt. Maybe I can tempt him into a game of strip poker or something and snag them on the way out," she said with a wry smile.

Riddick didn't look amused.

"Or I could just wait outside until he leaves to throw a piss and get them the old fashioned way," he suggested evenly. Classic Riddick; a sophisticated, well though-out plan was no match for a good fist to the face. Normally Xen would be inclined to agree but they would have nowhere to go if they were found pummeling in the Captain's head.

"And have every thug in the area know we're up to something, great idea," Xen replied sarcastically. "The man probably goes to the john with backup."

Riddick shrugged a heavy shoulder.

"My way sounds good to me. Nice and simple."

"How about we just play it as we go? Maybe I can get him to bet his keys in the game or something. I'll figure it out."

"I highly doubt he'd be that stupid. Either way I'm waiting at the foot of these stairs for you. If you get the damn keys, great. If not, I go up there and make him bleed for them. I'm done waiting on this fucking ship," Riddick growled. Those silver eyes shone like dark stars in the shadows.

Xen couldn't agree more, but was worried about their friends. If Riddick had to get the keys by force it wouldn't be long before they would have thugs closing in on all sides, destroying any hope of any of them escaping. She would need to think of something fast.

"I can do it," she insisted.

XXX

Minutes later she was standing in front of the captain's door. For all their talk of thugs they were nowhere to be seen. Every other time she had visited there had been at least two guards more than willing to frisk her for concealed weapons. She found their absence suspicious and raised her guard.

A doorknocker shaped like a twisting octopus faced her, its tentacles winding around a wrought iron ring. She gave it a solid knock and waited. Her stomach was already in knots; if she didn't manage to secure the keys they would have to wait and think of another way of getting them, or another way out altogether. They had already been stuck on the ship for weeks and the passing days were just a reminder of their imprisonment. She wanted to breathe real air and taste real food, run barefoot in grass and feel the sun, any sun, on her face again.

An energy presence interrupted her reverie, alerting her that Wahls was approaching the door. She adopted a calm, bored countenance. It wouldn't do to let the captain know she was actively planning something and she wanted to give nothing away. The man was like a bird of prey in the way he observed her actions.

The door was opened, flooding her senses with his familiar energy signature. It revealed a tall man with hair so blonde it was almost white. It was short and messy, looking windswept even though he probably hadn't felt real wind in months. Cold eyes appraised her under proud brows, flicking up and down her figure as he always did. Xen was used to it but still felt mildly uncomfortable. It was followed by a satisfied smirk fashioned from narrow lips that sported a snarling scar running down to his chin. Imposing as he was, the man was handsome in a rugged sort of way.

She realized her game of strip poker wouldn't last too long; he was already shirtless, probably from the heat. Hopefully from the heat. He was lean but well-defined and his chest and abdomen were covered in tattoos. Xen hadn't seen him without a shirt on before and couldn't help but stare. A giant squid, unfamiliar symbols, and a pin-up alien lady with two heads were only a small sample of his collection. They stood out starkly against his alabaster skin and made her think of ink drawings on bleached parchment.

Perhaps she gazed for a little too long as he raised an eyebrow and tilted his head.

"I'm not used to having my workers ogle me Xen," he said quietly. His voice was poisoned honey and thickly accented. She didn't know where he was from but his voice always reminded her of somewhere far away.

Xen snapped her eyes back up to his face, a flush rising in her cheeks. His energy wasn't helping either; it cloaked her in a lazy shroud that made her throat dry.

"Sorry captain," she said. "I've just never seen such detailed work before."

His barking laugh almost made her jump. Moving out of the way so she could enter, Wahls ushered Xen in and closed the door behind her. She almost expected an ambush but his quarters were empty. The cabin smelled of the leaf he liked to smoke, sweet and fragrant, and was filled with assorted furniture that looked expensive. They were gathered from his different smuggling operations throughout the galaxy as he liked to tell her, and all were one of a kind. Lanterns akin to the ones in the stairwell outside lined his walls, burning dimly.

"Detailed work? The smuggler who did it for me was drunk the entire session and took his damn time. Most of these lines are from his mistakes. I appreciate it though."

Xen moved past him through his quarters until she arrived at a polished black wood table standing near the back wall. Tall candles clustered in the middle were weeping wax onto its surface, casting dancing light on a bottle of caramel liquor and two heavy rocks glasses that sat waiting. It was a familiar scene; it was no mystery that Wahls liked to drink and whenever Xen was with him he preferred not to indulge alone. It looked like he was planning on a game of cards as well, for a well-used deck rested beside the bottle. Ideas for escape raced through her head; perhaps she could use the game to her advantage.

She heard the captain approach from behind and turned with a rehearsed smile.

"You know I lose my edge at cards when I drink, captain. I'm afraid it won't be too fair of a game."

"And when are games ever fair?" he replied, his icy eyes boring into hers. "There's always someone who has the upper hand, but that's what makes it interesting."

Something about the way he said it made her think he wasn't talking about cards. It made her uneasy, but she could do nothing as he took her shoulder and guided her into one of the high-backed chairs gathered around the table. He seemed unwilling to look away from her for even a moment, for as he filled the glasses he appraised her as she watched. Xen tried not to squirm under his gaze.

"Forgive my ignorance Xen, but I don't know too much about your kind," he said quietly, sliding a full glass towards her. He waited until she took it before sitting beside her and palming the deck of cards.

"My kind?" she replied, trying to keep a straight face. She had no idea if Wahls knew she was a reaper or not, but she planned on giving nothing away. Each time she had 'visited' with Wahls she expected some kind of questioning. It just made sense; they were captured by a huge smuggling vessel run by thugs and criminals. In fact, the first time she played cards with him she fully anticipated to be interrogated at gunpoint. It never came, nothing about her family, where she came from, not anything. The captain appeared not even to care, seeming to merely want a partner for his card games. The fact that he was probing for information now made her raise her guard like a wolf raising its hackles.

Wahls downed his glass in a single swallow, his eyes never leaving Xen's face.

"Reapers haven't been on my ship in years. It's been at least a decade since I've seen one, I thought they went extinct," he said as he dealt the cards. His voice was too casual, too light, and Xen didn't trust it. So he knew she was a reaper. She supposed it was obvious; her bright yellow eyes weren't exactly human. But why wait until now to talk about her history? It didn't make any sense. She sipped the bitter drink and shrugged.

"That's almost true," she replied carefully, choosing not to lie. "There might be less than a thousand of us now."

"The game is Barquot," Wahls continued as though Xen hadn't said anything. He poured himself another drink and organized the cards in his hand. "You remember – the player with the most cards in the end wins."

Xen was perplexed but fanned the cards in her hand anyway. She didn't know what Wahls was after, but she was planning on getting the keys to the shuttles no matter what. He seemed to be playing a game of his own but she was determined to have things her way, even if she would be grossly outnumbered if he decided to call in his thugs to question her properly. She almost yearned for it; a good fight would be refreshing.

She looked up from her hand to see the captain staring intensely at her, a knowing smile tugging at the corners of his lips.

"Your move," he said.