5 – The Dame
Riddick awoke in a cold room chained to a wall of smooth black marble. The first breath of consciousness came out in a cloud and goosebumps erupted over his skin. It did nothing to quell his temper, which rose swiftly inside him like a breaching shark. They have Xen, the mantra circled through his head mercilessly. Venomous anger rolled through him along with a splitting headache and he pulled at his restraints uselessly, seething like a caged animal. If they hurt her…
He was shackled tightly with his arms spread and legs out straight in front of him, held fast to the wall and floor. The chains were heavy and cut into his skin with their sharp edges, adding just a little more blood to his dripping collection. Warm and sticky, it trickled down his temples and from both arms onto the dark floor courtesy of various wounds. The pain from them throbbed throughout his body but he didn't have time to think about it. To top it off his goggles were missing. A growl sounded deeply in his chest; this fucking sucked.
He was waiting for Xen to work her magic with the captain and steal his keys. Not too difficult a task, he thought. Little did he know it was proving difficult indeed.
A little cramped but safe from prying eyes, he was crouched underneath the first run of slanting stairs that led up to the captain's cabin. A while had passed since she had left him and he was beginning to grow suspicious that something had happened to her, or was happening. His mind kept conjuring up images of her in various situations of grave danger; getting stabbed, poisoned, shot, seduced, etc. The latter made him particularly irate and gave him an excuse to picture murdering Wahls in interesting, painful ways. Cursing his overactive imagination, he ground his teeth together. Nothing had suggested anything uncivil; his delicate hearing had picked up nothing that could be interpreted as malicious. Their muffled voices were still heard through the boards, sounding calm enough. If the captain so much as touched one hair on her head, however, Riddick swore inwardly that he was going to make him mourn several fingers and much of that pretty face.
The other survivors of the crashed Hunter-Gratzner flashed in his mind as he tried to formulate an escape plan that revolved around Xen's success of attaining the shuttle keys. They were still on the ship, forced to work hard labor like the rest. If he was on his own his concern for other people would be distant and far between; normally he had no use for tag-alongs. Made it too complicated as they were a liability and his trust for others ran paper thin. However, he had been through things with these individuals, made relationships with them. They deserved to know. If he and Xen somehow did manage to grab a shuttle and go, what were they going to do about Jack, Imam, Frye, the rest of them? Leave them to rot on this ship, to work themselves to death? Riddick knew he sure as shit wasn't coming back to The Longshot after departing it, it would be a stupid and needless risk. They would be abandoning their friends if they left now though and the idea sent prickles of unfamiliar guilt washing over him.
Groaning softly, he ran a hand over his face and decided that if Xen came back empty handed he wasn't going to wring Wahls' neck for the keys. He wanted to wring his neck anyway, but that was beside the point. Everyone needed to be informed of a plan before anyone shuttled off the freighter. If he were running solo his instinct would be to barge into Wahls' cabin, snap his neck where he sat, grab the keys for himself, and vacate the ship without another word but things had changed. He had people to protect now. People that deserved to live freely in a place not based on slavery. Perhaps he felt so strongly because he had been through too many slams to forget the feeling of yearning for freedom; it was a desperation that no one should have to feel, young ones especially. It could eat one from the inside out like a ravenous parasite. Xen and Jack's faces bloomed in his mind, clear as day. He wasn't going to leave them in hell after they had just escaped it; somehow he was going to get everyone off this damned ship.
A vibration was suddenly felt through the boards beneath his feet as if from an earthquake. It came with a dull throbbing hum that made him realize an enormous ship was approaching the cargo hauler. That was saying something for the hauler itself was massive; from the strength of the shaking, the fucker was a behemoth and was apparently preparing to transport many units at once. Riddick knew the sound of a bulk transport when he heard one. The Longshot was caught in its energy beam and there was nothing anyone could do about it. Every sense on high alert, he palmed the metal shivs that were tucked behind his ankles and surveyed the area from between the stair slats. He knew that sound, and what followed. Enemies would soon be appearing like popcorn, one after the other, and Riddick was going to be ready. People were fleeing the area and looking around anxiously as if they knew it too.
With another wavering hum, the next blink of the eye revealed dozens of Necromonger soldiers with their weapons drawn. They appeared in ribbons of black smoke that lingered for moments before dissipating. Huge and armored, the men looked indestructible and carried various weapons that would make any average person surrender without question. As one unit, they turned their heads towards Riddick and marched towards him with blank, grey eyes as if they could see him through the stairs. They surrounded the wooden structure and aimed their weapons at him simultaneously. He had no idea how they knew his exact location, but that no longer mattered. Xen was his next immediate thought, and it came with a concern that bordered on the edge of panic, another emotion that destabilized him like a powerful wind bending a tree to its will. The feeling was so strong; the yearning to protect her was so fierce, that he felt it in his chest like a heart attack. He saw more soldiers racing up the stairs to the only room where she was holed up with the captain and knew she was in trouble.
He managed to kill two immediately, catching them by surprise. Apparently they didn't expect one outnumbered man to fight back and were preparing for an easy capture. All it took was a quick leap forward paired with an upward thrust from both shivs up into the delicate skin of the lower jaw, where the armor was weakest. Blood spurted in a warm gush over his fists and the bodies dropped like bags of bricks. The other soldiers rushed him and as he fought he realized they were trying to take him alive, otherwise they would have just fired their plasma guns and been done with it. Not one to go quietly, he succeeded in seriously injuring a few others before getting his head smashed with a large club-like weapon from behind. All he knew next was darkness and pain.
His lip curled at the thought. That had really fucking hurt. The throbbing in his head drummed in response.
Shining silver eyes took in his surroundings. Shadows pressed in on all sides but he could easily see the shackles that lined the walls and floor. The room was hexagonal in shape, windowless, and soared dozens of feet up into blackness. For all the space, he was alone. Probably want to hold me for questioning, leave me alone for a while until I weaken up a bit, he thought. Fat chance.
Even for a holding cell it held a dark elegance that could only come from an enemy so devastating that they left entire planets dead in their wake. Necromongers was the dreaded word whispered from all those unfortunate enough to know of them. It looked like their twisted refinement found its way to their prisoner's chambers as well. He didn't particularly give a fuck whose prisoner he was however, he just cared about figuring out a way to escape.
His expression darkened as Xen's face flashed in his mind and something primal rose within him like a cobra rising and ready to strike. He would save that fury, keep it burning inside until the right time came to unleash it. He had seen another squad march up to the captain's quarters so he knew she had been taken as well; he just didn't know where. It filled him with a completely foreign feeling, helplessness, and that among anything else, scared him. If they hurt her I'll murder everyone on this fucking ship, he thought dangerously. She's mine.
In the few long months aboard The Longshot he had begun to regard Xen as more than just someone to survive with; he considered her a partner in more ways than one and being apart from her made him feel strange, alone. Well, he had been alone most of his life but loneliness was something he rarely felt. She could make it disappear like a streak of pure sunshine through a storm cloud but now it pressed around him, a quiet despair.
As he thought this, a loud clanking sounded and a door was opened across from him. Cold light spilled onto the floor broken by a shapely silhouette dressed in a glittering golden gown. The sudden illumination sent shards of pain piercing into his sensitive eyes and he clenched them shut with a growl. The scent of a woman washed over him, spiced with cinnamon and smug with power. It was pampered, perfumed, and darkly beautiful. He drew it hungrily into his lungs, pulling it to the back of his throat where he could taste it, memorizing it so that when he managed to escape he would know who to come for first.
The door swung shut with a solid slam and Riddick was able to open his eyes again. Glaring spitefully, his gleaming eyes assessed his visitor.
The woman's stride was easy and confident as she approached him. Like a lioness lazily approaching wounded prey, his restrained condition made her unconcerned with her own safety and he stored that knowledge away for later. Her stance and posture oozed a privileged upbringing, with shoulders held back to flank a sinuous spine as she swanned towards him. This woman was used to getting what she wanted and Riddick knew this without her ever having to say a word.
Stopping in the triangular space formed between his arms and the rest of his body, she put a delicate hand on her hip and looked down at him with cool eyes of burnt umber. They were wreathed in black, making them appear larger and more dramatic. It didn't take much to tell that she thought him far beneath her, for her expression suggested she had just stepped in something unpleasant.
"They talk about you as if you're special," she murmured in a voice of silk, "but I must admit I expected something different. For a breeder you're as common as the rest of them."
Apart from her distasteful countenance, a hostile beauty shone through like the moon on a stormy night. The gorgeous golden number she was wearing contrasted well with the color of her skin, a creamy bronze that seemed to glow even in the dim light of the cell they were in. It was patterned with hexagons and fit skin-tight to her every curve. Long dark braids were pulled up into an elegant plait that fell down her slender back, revealing a proud face that held a self-righteous air. Thin lips formed a distasteful line as she weighed him with her eyes and Riddick discovered he would love nothing more than to turn that beauty into something ugly.
The tone of her voice made it seem like she were merely talking to herself as she appraised him.
"Why don't you unchain me then and I can show you just how special I am," Riddick rumbled. Muscles tensed under his flesh as he imagined how many pieces he could break her into.
The relative silence of the cell was broken by her delicate laughter. She lowered herself gracefully in front of him and stroked his cheek with a manicured finger as one would stroke a beloved pet. Annoyance swept through him but he kept it in check. Perhaps pretending to be interested in this Necromonger whore would give him a tactical advantage. He breathed deeply, inhaling more of her scent, and met her gaze with his silvery one, holding it fast. The effect was promising; her lips parted slightly and her pupils dilated indicating more than casual interest. Obviously she didn't think him as common as she had declared.
"Beautiful eyes. I see what all the fuss is about now," she said quietly, her eyes searching his face. "Your little friend wouldn't stop going on about you. A little sad, really."
Riddick's jaw tightened at the mention of Xen.
"Tell me where she is," he growled, muscles taut at his restraints.
"Don't worry, you'll see her soon enough," she cooed with false comfort. Her face was a mask of compassion. "We just want to ask you some questions first."
"Fuck you," he replied evenly. He knew that anything he would say wouldn't be believed; after all, they knew he was a convict on the run and lying was one of the many weapons useful in keeping himself alive. They would expect treachery and Riddick was going to give them nothing less.
The woman's expression turned to one of indignation at his reply but it was quickly smothered by a guise of sweetness.
"The easier you make this, the sooner you will see her."
"I ain't answering any questions until you give me some information," he retorted.
"Oh no darling, I'm not one for interrogations. I prefer to watch," she said softly, leaning forward so that their faces were inches apart. Her scent enveloped him in a swirl of cinnamon. Repulsed, he urged himself to keep still as she brushed his lips with hers.
"Are you this friendly with all your prisoners?" he asked, his mouth still moving against hers.
Pulling away slightly, she sneered at him with a glint of malice in her eyes.
"Interesting breeder. Let's see how amused you are when you see your pretty friend converted. It only takes eight hours…maybe afterwards you'll be willing to give us something useful. If not, I'm sure we can persuade you in other ways."
Smirking at Riddick's furious expression, she rose and with an uncanny swiftness was gone from the room.