9. Hijacked

Jack hated sleeping. She always had such vivid dreams. Cryo was particularly bad for dreams, and she always remembered them clearly. It was less like sleeping and more like being held captive.

The dreams hit her fast as the chemicals threw her into unconsciousness without preface. Memories flooded past her cognizant defenses like water. The death of her mother was always first. Always.

They'd been running their whole lives. Then they'd simply run out of luck.

Her mother's dead face stared out of the dark at her. There was nothing to do but run again. She would follow the escape route her mother had planned, and drilled her on, taking little with her. The stash of cash, the passport, a set of clothes, something to eat so she could stay in her hole until the possibility of pursuit had passed.

And the book.

Her mother had taught her to read from that book; the story was burned in her mind. As she grew older the story made more sense: it was the subtext of her own life. The letter in the book, on the other hand, made no sense to her, but it had spoken volumes to her mother when she received it. It was, apparently, a code. Her mother never taught her the code, but Jack knew what it meant anyway.

It had been from someone in her family. It had told her she was being betrayed. It told her to run. She did. And she never stopped running.

She had to go back into the room where her mother lay to retrieve the book.

Her mother's eyes were still open, staring, and dry. Nine-year-old Jack could not stop looking back into those dead eyes. The book lay on the table next to the bed. Jack slid a step closer, then another, still unable to look away. Her mother's mouth was open, showing a dry, swollen tongue. Another step closer and Jack had to face the means of her mother's death.

A black cord was wrapped tightly around her mother's neck. Around it, her mother's throat was swollen and purple. Her fingers had gouged her own flesh around the cord in her fight for life.

Jack snatched the book and fled the room, the apartment, and the only thing she'd ever known and loved.

She didn't love the book, but she felt a need to keep it. No one glancing at it's title would guess it related to her so personally. They would just think she was reading a classic that had been made into many popular vids.

The memories blended into the disjointed images that were real dreaming. The dead face of her mother was replaced by the pale, but very living, face of her benefactress. The rest of the images that plagued her were just as familiar. Only their order of appearance varied. Jack was captive to it all.

…

Riddick killed all power to the engines, letting them freefall dead a moment while he studied what the sensors told him about the approaching ships. Dissatisfied, he used control jets to push them back down into atmosphere and the planet's gravity.

Zemma said nothing, watching Riddick work silently, and wondering about his last word to her. Earthlings. And the plague (which was really a weapon), that didn't worry him as much as these.

He kicked the engines on again once they had fallen deep into the atmosphere, and headed them towards one of the poles. Zemma noted how carefully he was watching the magnetic field gauge. Riddick caught her looking on.

"If we hover right here, where the magnetic fields converge, and the solar winds are at their fiercest, we should be invisible to everything but direct line of sight."

"Clever!" Zemma was impressed. She wouldn't have thought of that, but would never forget it.

Then Riddick did something new, and still unfathomable. He popped them straight up, out of that safety zone, and back down again.

"What was that for?"

"Can't see them any better than they can see me. But I have the advantage of knowing where they were last."

"Still where you expected?"

"Mmm hmm."

"How long are we going to stay here?"

"Long as necessary."

They sat in silence for a few minutes. Zemma had some questions she wanted to ask, but wasn't sure if now was the time. Riddick seemed intent on watching the instruments; on the other hand, he was a master of distraction and could just be avoiding her questions as well as her eyes. They popped back up and down again.

"Now there's something I wasn't expecting." Riddick sounded amused, rather than startled.

Zemma waited to see if he would elaborate.

After a few silent minutes they repeated the pop and drop. Riddick smiled.

"Well? You gonna make me beg?" Zemma grinned, knowing he would hear the double entendre.

Riddick turned his head a little to look at her with one eyebrow raised. She couldn't see his eyes, as he was still wearing his goggles, but she imagined they might be glinting with humor.

"You know, I like it when you beg," he mused as if considering.

"Mmm hmm. But you promised to tell me what's going on."

"I promised?" He turned to look at her again quickly as if double-checking that he had, in fact, promised. He suppressed a grin. "I thought I promised to…"

"You're terrible," she told him in Furyan.

"I know," he replied in the same language with a mischievous grin.

Zemma threw her goggles, hitting him in the chest. "Don't keep me in the dark, Riddick. 'Curiosity killed the cat.' You know I'll go digging for it."

"You can't get into as much trouble here as you could on the Basilica." He was grinning and half looking at her, to make sure everything was still all in fun.

"Tell me about Jack." She decided to go straight to the big bet.

"I don't know that much," he hedged.

Zemma suddenly thought that what he did know made him a little sad.

"Then tell me about this viral weapon, and the Earthers."

"Earthlings," he corrected. She found that interesting. He still thought of himself as one of them: an EarthLING, not Earthers.

"The plague is pretty specific. But when I left, its delivery system was…" He paused, searching for the right word. "Hijacked," he finished.

"How does Jack know about it then? She looked pretty scared. She didn't even put up a fuss when you put her in cryo."

"Someone must have told her." His face dropped into a scowl.

Zemma watched his face and waited for more. There was more, she was sure, that he was leaving out. But he could be so damn stubborn!

So can you, Zem.

Only when I'm not sure about something…

He only ever does anything for a reason.

So that means he isn't sure either…

Riddick must have been keeping close track of the minutes. Zemma was, out of habit. At precisely the same interval since the last pop up maneuver, he did it again. A smug look replaced his doubtful one.

"Got you."

"What did you find?" She figured that was a safe question.

"Someone else playing hide and seek out in the system." He glanced over at her to watch her reaction. "It's a runner from the Basilica."

Zemma raised her eyebrows at him, not disbelieving exactly, just not comprehending why the Basilica would send anyone after them. They should be running high-speed by now; any runner they sent would never be able to catch them again.

"Jaron or Don?" He asked her, as if making a wager.

"Not Jaron. He's their Lord Marshal now." Zemma knew Jaron loved leading, and had been an excellent ruler before the 'Mongers came.

"They won't call him that. President, I think. But yah, I bet it's Don."

Zemma hadn't thought about the title change, but concurred. Everything 'Monger would be supplanted by Furyan ways. President had been a new title for them, her father had been the first, and even then, it had only been for a few short months. But she knew if the Furyans were asked they would all vote Jaron their leader.

She felt a sudden pang of loss for the man who had become her surrogate father. "President doesn't seem nearly noble enough for him," she mused. "He should stay their Lord."

Riddick shook his head curtly. "You were raised a 'Monger. You're no more Furyan than I am." Riddick's voice was a little dismissive. It caught Zemma off-guard, and she felt her mental armor snap up.

Ferrin raised me Furyan!

She didn't argue with him on this point. What could be gained?

Riddick glanced her way again, must have seen the closed up look on her face. His lips became a fine line. "Don't take it personal," he grumbled.

Zemma worked to smooth her features into a mask of unconcern. Inside she was busy examining why her feelings were so hurt by that, possibly accurate, statement. She modulated her voice to express real curiosity. "Why do you think Don came after us?"

"No way to know except to ask him."

They popped up again, but this time didn't fall back down into the maelstrom of magnetic and solar camouflage. Riddick angled them down the dark side of the planet, heading in-system.

Riddick glanced at her again. She put on a smile for him that was meant to say, 'no hard feelings.' He wasn't buying it.

"Zemma…" he started out, a little defensive.

"You said the delivery system was hijacked? Did you mean Jack knew about the plague, or the hijacking?" Zemma jumped in. "And you said, 'when you left,' but I still don't know what you left."

Riddick sighed. He was caught between an apology he didn't really feel was necessary, and personal information he was in the habit of keeping secret. Zemma might have been amused at the look on his face, if she weren't just a little annoyed with him right then.

"That stuff you looked up about me," he spoke slowly, as if still not sure which was really the lesser of the two evils he was about to speak. "Some of it was true. I did kill my guardian and go to prison as a kid." His lips pressed back into a thing line. More on that he wouldn't speak of. He went on…

"Sometime around sixteen or seventeen I was recruited. They bought my way out of prison. Trained me. Made me a part of their elite force."

Zemma waited for some clarification, in vain. She had to pry everything from him, and she didn't like how it made her feel. She needed to know something about what just happened on the planet, though. Jack was involved somehow, and if this trip was really more about her than for Zemma's benefit, she should know what they were doing and why.

"Riddick," she started softly. "Please, just tell me what's going on. I don't have anyone to spill your secrets to. But Jack's worried. You're worried. Shouldn't I get to be worried too?"

Riddick snorted, a corner of his mouth tweaked up in half a smile. "Think Don'll want the benefit of being worried too?"

"Whatever drove him to look for us, he's stuck with us till we meet the Basilica at Fury."

Riddick didn't comment. It made her wonder: They were still planning on going to Fury, weren't they? Despite Riddick's comment, they were still Furyans under the skin.

"I'll tell you both when we pick him up." He wasn't smiling anymore.