7. Ceasefire
Jack's face went pale.
Zemma understood what the word plague meant: deadly disease. But, like 'ivory tower', she had no context to place it. Obviously Jack and Riddick knew better… or worse.
Jack followed Riddick from the room. "We've been here two weeks, Riddick!"
"Don't worry about it," he replied, his voice getting a little fainter as he stalked down the hallway towards the bridge area.
"But, Riddick…" Jack's voice was louder. She wasn't following.
Zemma sat where she was, slowly shuffling the cards, digesting what she could.
"I said go to the med lab! I'll put you in cryo, and blow out the air." His voice fading, sounding irritated.
Zemma didn't understand the urgency. As Jack had said, they'd been there two weeks already. Surely even a virulent disease needed some sort of contact to spread? Air born pathogens of the magnitude Jack seemed to fear must be pretty rare.
Riddick too. He wants to get rid of the air we've taken on.
Still, it would have to be a pretty exceptional disease to affect us up on this plateau without any contact from the local population.
He sounded worried. Don't you trust him to know what he's doing?
Precautions. That's all.
He knows something.
He always does… Damn it.
Zemma put the cards in her pocket and straightened up after their meager meal. Jack was nowhere to be seen. Zemma followed Riddick's path to the small bridge.
She stood in the doorway watching him work smoothly over the controls, double-checking her work, and preparing the ship for flight.
"Riddick?"
"What?!"
Fuck! Was every conversation going to become an argument?
"Are we really in so much danger?" She kept her voice soft.
"I just want off this dirtball," he growled.
Hmn. Something left unsaid there. Zemma considered her response, and tone of voice, carefully.
"Can we catch this plague? Just from being up here?" Quiet, anxious voice; not quite the little girl that was Min, but close. Closer than she'd been in a long time.
Please, just tell me the truth.
Riddick didn't answer right away. She could see by the set of his shoulders he was also considering carefully. "You could get sick, Zem." He sounded odd. He wasn't lying, but he was still concealing something.
Check. He's checking his bet. What's he holding back?
"You think you're immune, though?"
"Probably." Simple declaration. He believed it. Zemma wasn't sure she should.
Should I call him on it?
"And Jack?"
"Get to the med lab. We're going up fast. You'll be more comfortable in cryo."
"No." Without rancor; she simply was not going to do it.
"Please." Just his offering the word, not begging, or even asking.
Still, she considered it. It was sincere in its own way.
The engines were powered up. Riddick finished setting his course, a steep one, apparently. He stood to leave the small space but Zemma still blocked his path.
"Talk to me." She tried again.
They stared at each other. Yet another challenge, just a silent argument. Zemma felt like giving in just to get it over with. She couldn't of course, but she wanted to.
He looked like he wanted to as well.
"Follow me." He sighed, capitulating. He waited for her to step aside, though he could have brushed passed her at any time.
He's trying.
He led the way down the corridor to a room she hadn't been in. She hadn't really explored the little ship. He opened the door with a master key. He didn't turn on the lights so Zemma just twitched up her lenses and followed him in.
The room was a master suite. She hadn't realized these little cruisers had them, but supposed she should have at least thought about it.
"Is this the captain's quarters?" She let her voice be light and teasing.
"It was supposed to be yours." His was not light, or teasing.
Oops.
"How did you end up in that little berth?" Irritation. Something he'd been hiding, but not what she was digging for.
She kinda laughed to break the tension. "Jack." She shrugged but couldn't see the details of his face to know how he was responding. "She was yammering at me. Trying to stir up shit about how I wouldn't be able to handle the real universe." Zemma paused, trying not to rush and sound defensive. She didn't really want either of her shipmates to know how much Jack -could- get under her skin. It gave Jack way too much power over the both of them. "I just opened a door, saw a bunk, and tossed my things in."
"I gave you directions." Still flat, but not so icy. Chastising her, but not so harshly that she'd get reactive.
"Things were a little strained between us that week," she reminded him needlessly, trying to keep her attitude light and airy despite her words. This dance didn't feel as entertaining as it used to… before they'd had sex. Everything felt so much more critical now.
New Now, new deal, new hand.
Zemma sighed and moved towards Riddick in the dark. Everything seemed okay in the dark, when they were naked, and just collaborating towards a mutual objective. But was that all there was? All they could have?
She came close to him, but didn't touch. He was looking down at her, she turned her head up, and looked at the planes of his face in the soft blues and purples her lenses afforded. She inhaled slowly, savoring the scent of him. She wanted to touch him, even reached out, unconsciously, for his face, but stopped herself short, hand hovering next to his cheek.
Stop it, Zem. Damn. Come up for air, girl!
"Talk to me," she repeated her simple request, without the neediness she felt.
Riddick took a deep breath, let it out slowly. "This plague," he tipped his head into her palm and paused for a moment. He seemed to have the same thought as she, as he reach up and captured her hand in his, pulling it away. His voice continued, slightly more business-like. "I know it. I know where it came from. It isn't natural. It's a weapon."
He paused so long that Zemma wondered if he planned to say any more. They stood in the dark, and watching each other for any indications of… what? Fear from her? Or another invasion into his personal history? She watched him for any chink in his armor that would let her inside. It was a standoff; neither gave anything away to the other.
Zemma looked away first, shaking her head and grinning at yet another challenge.
"What's so funny?" Slight suspicion.
"Damn, Riddick. You could have told me that half an hour ago. Why all the drama? Why do I have to drag every word out of you like it hurts?" She was both exasperated and mystified. "What is it you think I'm going to do in the face of the truth?"
"I'm just trying to protect you." That sounded a little more defensive than she expected.
Damn it.
"One little kidnapping and you get all crazed." She was forcing the humor; didn't care if he saw it, as long as he responded to it.
"One?" Thank the stars, the sarcasm was back in his voice.
"Okay, two." She grinned, a genuine smile. "But I don't think that first one should count because I was in my own room."
"You were supposed to be in MINE." Softly chiding her; softly declaring something.
That something made her tingle.
Zemma put her other hand up to his face. "Damn it. Get me alone in a room with you and I suddenly forget everything else outside." She forced herself to step back, her fingers trailing away from his cheek slowly.
She took a deep breath, counted to twelve, and let it out, standing straighter as she did so. "Okay, Captain. What's the drill here? You want Jack and I to go into cryo. You pop us up into orbit. Then what? Space suit for you? Reduce us to vacuum then re-pressurize?"
"We didn't pack one." Tricky bastard was playing that a little too cool.
Zemma decided to call him on this one. "Plan on rigging a dead man's switch to turn the air back on?"
Check. He didn't respond.
"No way." She didn't raise her voice at all. "No fucking way. Riddick I can't navigate. I can fly up and down, not from star to star. I couldn't even begin to…"
"Nothing is gonna happen." Calm, authoritative, and nearly convincing.
"Damn right. I'm not going in. I'm going with you." She tried to copy his tone.
Go ahead, call me.
"No."
"You can't make…" the rest of her sentence didn't make it out of her mouth as Riddick picked her up. With a 'whoomph', all the air in her was lost as he landed her torso across his shoulder. She was suddenly half upside down, her feet pinned in his hands.
"I'll tell you more when I take you out of cryo." He strode for the door.
"Fuck!" It was all she could think of.
"That's a promise." Wry humor… now?
Zemma's mouth quirked into half a smile, half grimace of irritation. "You're gonna tell me when you learned Furyan, too." He was going to win this hand unless she caught a lucky break. But she was going make him pay if she could.
"What makes you think I know Furyan?"
His long strides were making her bounce across his back, or she'd have bitten him.
Damn it. Bounce.
Damn it. Bounce.
Damn it…
She finally figured out she could push her hands against his lower back to support herself a little and not flop around like a sack of laundry. The ceiling was too low to attempt to flip back over his shoulder, even if she could catch him off guard enough. His grip was frustratingly tight. All she could do was get upright and bash her head.
"This isn't smart, Riddick. If it was just you, I could understand your logic. But you can't seriously consider leaving Jack and I stuck sleeping in a dead ship in orbit around a backwater world if anything goes wrong." She was trying to sound reasonable with the breath getting knocked out of her every other word.
He didn't respond to her. But she felt the muscles in his shoulder tighten. Whether it related to her words or her attempts to move was impossible to discern. She fervently hoped it was the former.
They entered the med lab.
"Jesus, Riddick! You about scare me half to death, then take time for a little slap and tickle?"
Oh, Jack. Don't I wish.
"Shut it. Get in. Don't give me any shit." He didn't sound angry, but he wasn't brooking any argument from her either. He didn't move Zemma from her embarrassing position.
Zemma heard Jack mumbling unsavory speculation about Riddick's mother. "You sure you wouldn't rather have me help get her locked down?" Jack's old faithful sneer was back in her voice. Well, Zemma had known the ceasefire wouldn't last.
Riddick moved around a bit, apparently trying to assist Jack one handed, as she was cussing his interference. "I got it, damn it. Stop helping. Just push the buttons." He turned away so that Zemma faced Jack's scornful look before the lid slid into place.
Machinery purred, and Jack's eyes glazed a little before closing. The little coffin would expel the remaining air as the chemicals surging into Jack's veins took the place of oxygen. Helium would fill the space to keep the pressure stable and assist her lungs when it was time to wake up.
If she does.
"Riddick. Please." Not begging, but on the verge of it.
He set her down on her feet in front of him. They were essentially in the same position they'd been in five minutes ago. She looking up a little; he looking down. They studied each other's faces, this time in light. Riddick's lenses were down, so she was actually looking into liquid brown eyes, instead of electric blue.
And… he's looking at your face, Zem.
First, and last, time?
She pushed the thought away. Her eyes cut to the door behind Riddick.
"Don't even think about it." He growled.
Zemma sighed, and looked back at him. She might be fast enough, but what was the point?
"You gonna do exactly," he emphasized this, drawing out the word slowly, "what I tell you?"
Zemma only hesitated a heartbeat. "Yes." She was feeling defeated and fearful, but was NOT going to let it show.
At least you're not claustrophobic.
That was funny once. Hell, it wasn't even funny then.
"No stunts. I mean it. I don't have time to fight with you."
Last chance to tell him you love him.
"No."
"No?" He raised an eyebrow.
"No stunts. Let's get on with it." And, this better fucking work. Perfectly.
He studied her face a moment longer before he nodded. "Good. Help me find some ear plugs." And just like, that he turned away. "We'll get you a pair of my goggles when we go back up front."
Zemma stared at his back and counted again before she could propel herself into action. She glanced at the empty, and now redundant, cryo tube.
This better fucking work.