Kinda iffy about this chap. Let me know if you guys like it! Thanx!


All Riddick knew was pain. For days he drifted in and out of consciousness only catching bits and pieces of garbled conversations, glimpses of unfamiliar faces. In his drug induced coma he dreamt of nothing. But as the sedatives wore down his mind exploded with fragmented memories. The dark quiet confines of a ship; a pair of bottle green eyes looking up at him; pain, unbelievable searing pain; a woman screaming for him amidst the sounds of twisting metal and gunshots. Jack. His Jack screaming for him as blood dripped from her lashes and splashed onto her cheek.

He was ripped violently from his semi-consciousness stupor. His eyes snapped open and with an inhuman roar he surged up only to be snapped back in place leather restraints which were fastened around the bars of the bed rail.

Bed rail? Restraints? What the fuck?

Bitter hatred spiked through him; neither he nor the beast enjoyed being restrained. He'd spent too much of his life in shackles.

Looking to his left he saw that he was hooked up to an array of I.V.'s and he instinctually – and unsuccessfully – tried to dislodge them from his arms.

"I wouldn't do that if I were you," a female voice squeaked from the doorway. He turned his head to the right and – under different circumstances – he would've laughed out loud. A heavy set, mousy haired woman wearing a medical coat that damn near reached her ankles leaned against the door frame observing him with a kind of wary fascination.

You gotta be fuckin' kiddin' me, he thought, amused but somewhat insulted that this was what they sent for him.

Sizing her up he guessed that she was about twenty one, maybe twenty two years old; and had probably never even seen a gauge forget about using one.

She had that innocent wondering look about her, he noticed.

So… not a merc.

She didn't pose any evident threat, that was for damn sure, but he'd learned a long time ago not to underestimate a woman. Some of the most brutal beatings he'd watched in slam had been delivered by women half his size. He figured he'd let the straps stay on until he figured out where he was and what was going on.

"What is this shit," he asked, motioning to the I.V. drip. He was somewhat surprised at the slight slurring of his words.



"Mostly anesthetic," she replied and jumped as the door slide shut behind her, "you have a – uh – a saline and nourishment drip as well. You've suffered third and forth degree burns along the majority of your upper back, as well as serious internal damage."

He shifted slightly on the bed, his back didn't hurt really, compared to some of the other stuff he'd experienced. There was this cold sticky pressure on the back though, as if he were lying on a suction cup filled with gel.

"I know what you're thinking," she giggled nervously tucking her hair behind her ears, "it's gross; but trust me when I tell you that the dermagel -pad is you best friend right now. It's mostly aloe-vera, but we added something for the pain."

He hadn't even known his expression had changed.

Must be some pretty concentrated shit, he thought, gotta watch it.

True, the woman seemed pleasant enough…but he was sure she hadn't strapped him to this bed just for the hell of it.

He remained silent, watching her bustle around the room. He noted that it was private room not a med-bay, and that excluded most merc ships right away. He also noticed that she stayed well out of his reach as if the leather straps weren't a good enough guarantee. She was scared.

Smart girl, he thought.

"What's with the cuffs," he asked. The hesitation in her answer did not go unnoticed.

"A precaution," she said mildly, flipping through what he assumed was his chart, "you were quite – uh – violent during the skin grafting process, although I admit it is a very painful procedure. N-not that I would know…I mean personally. But I mean I-I've been told. We had to regenerate over seventy-five percent of the flesh and skin on your back."

Sounds like bullshit to me, the beast growled suspiciously from the darkest corner of Riddick's mind.

"You were under a general sedative for the majority of the time," she said peeking over her shoulder, "but the first few days you seemed to be lucid...

First few days?

"What's today," he demanded.

"What?"

"The date," he barked growing irritated.

She flushed and looked down at her digital watch, "I – uh – it's September 19th…don't you- don't you remember anything?"

His mind immediately did the math. Two weeks…he'd been out for two weeks. If everything went as planned, Davis and his crew would be on Trelios in three days. He'd lose Jack if he didn't get the hell out of there.

"Oh – er –ok," she stammered, obviously taken aback by his sudden lapse into silence, "well…why don't I just let you get some rest…"

His mild amusement with this girl had vanished, he eyed the i.d. access card clipped to her shirt …she was his ticket out.

"You mind changing this blanket," he asked smoothly, "it's itchy."

At first he thought she would decline but she reluctantly nodded and he smiled what he hoped would be reassuringly.

She walked back over the counter beside his bed, pulling a small key out of her pocket she unlocked a cabinet and leaned in.

The metallic chink of metal snapping made her whip around. Riddick was sitting up on the gurney, leather cuffs still secured around his wrists with the little metal bars dangling from them.

He raised a finger to his lips and the scream that had been threatening to burst from her mouth came out as a strangled gasping sob. Her clipboard slipped from her fingers and clattered to the ground as she stood, eyes flicking back and forth between the door and his bed.

He just shook his head, "I wouldn't."

She looked at the straps still around his ankles and took a tentative step backwards.

"You won't make it to the door," he warned as he pulled the I.V.'s from his arm.

She took another step and then turned scrambling towards the exit. She never made it past the foot of the bed.

He lunged forward, grabbed her hair and yanked her back towards him. She screamed into the palm of his hand and beat uselessly against his legs until he jerked her up into the bed so she was sitting on his lap.

"Shut up," he demanded, jerking on her hair for emphasis.

She choked back another scream and began to sob quietly.

"Are we going to cooperate?"

She nodded and he slowly took his hand off her mouth, but kept his other firmly tangled in her hair. She hiccupped and gulped in air trying desperately to calm to herself.

"Good. First, take this shit off my back."

She turned on the bed, grimacing as her hair twisted in his hands. She was forced to scoot close to him until she was basically straddling him in the bed.

He smiled pleasantly at her as she reached over his shoulders, "You can get closer," he smirked leaning in to speak in her ear, "I don't bite…usually."

She grunted in disgust and turned her head away. He couldn't help but chuckle darkly.

Some people are so easy to fuck with, he thought.

His amusement was cut short as the woman forcefully tore the pad from his back and his world erupted in a fireball of agony.

"Fuck," he roared, unconsciously whipping her head to the side so hard she was almost unseated.

With his back arched in pain she had been slammed up against his chest and was now frantically trying to dislodge his hand from her hair but he recovered too quickly.

His free hand shot out and wrapped around her neck squeezing her until she began to choke a splutter. The intense pain had caused the beast to rear, snarling and rattling and the bars of its cage demanding to be let out, to show the bitch what pain was.

Riddick however took and few calming breaths and loosened the death hold he had on her throat. She choked out a garbled plea and he silenced her with a look that assured her of a slow and painful death if she didn't do exactly what he said.

There was no need for him to speak, he simply raised a questioning eyebrow and she lowered her bloodshot eyes in submission.

That's right, he thought, I'm not the one to fuck with.

He inhaled deeply, suppressing the urge to just break her neck.

"Unbuckle those restraints," he said motioning to his ankles. She hastily complied although it took her a minute to grasp the buckles with her hands shaking as they were.

"Calm down," he insisted as he slid off the bed with her, still grasping her hair. Glancing down he noticed he was naked. That was going to be an issue.

The medic meantime had convinced herself that she was going to die and had begun begging him to just kill her quickly.

He shot her a disgusted look. No survival instinct, she gave up so damn easily.

Which was smart, he supposed, because he would've just snapped her neck otherwise…but still.

Looking around the room he noticed that none of his belongings were there.

He ran a hand over his head and face. They hadn't shaved him this whole time. They also hadn't removed his contacts as he could see normal colors.

"Where am I," he demanded tightening his hold on her hair

She stood there like a deer in the headlights shaking with fear. "Please…please don't…"

"I'm not going to ask you again."

The cold steel that had crept into his voice prompted her into speech. This man would kill her, she had never been surer of anything in her life.

"This is Ramses, we're a deep space emergency services vessel," she said, "we picked up on a – uh – emergency beacon from the Severet almost two weeks ago and uh…." She faltered to a stop.

"And what," he prompted almost enjoying her obvious discomfort.

"And-and we managed to rescue sixteen people," she said wincing in pain, "the other twenty-two were –uh – dead…on arrival." Her hands had unconsciously come to rest of the one he was holding her with. "That really hurts."

He looked at her as if to say that he hadn't even begun to hurt her and she felt her stomach twist itself into a knot. Her mind raced and he could hear her heart thudding rappidly, "I'm just an intern," she whimpered as he drug he throughout the room in search of possible weapons. "I just arrived here last month."

He ignored her as he ripped open drawers looking for anything he could use as a weapon. He came up with a handful of alcohol wipes, aspirin packets, and a box of rubber gloves.

He growled lowly in frustration. All of it, totally fucking useless. And to top it off he was still a little woozy from whatever shit they had been pumping into his veins.

He pulled the woman, who had now resolved to just sob quietly, back over to the bed. He told her to climb up and she did. When he motioned for her to lie with her head on the foot of the bed, sick dread crawled up her spine…he was going to tie her arms.

She tried to struggle off the bed but he yanked her head down and she cried out in pain and fear.

"Don't," he said releasing her hair. "Take off the jacket."

Nauseous with fear she shrugged out of the jacket and he threw it on to the chair behind him, "Down."

She had started to cry uncontrollably, blubbering for him to 'please stop, please don't'.

He disregarded her pleas, told her to shut up and shackled her arms above her head.

When he tucked his fingers into the waist of her baggy pants she began to buck against the bed kicking at him and screaming.

He clapped his hand over her mouth and she tried to bite him. He dissuaded her by gripping her mouth with jaw breaking strength. She whimpered and eventually quieted so he removed his hand.

"You do that again," he said pointing at her, "I'll break your neck. Now lift up."

She raised her hips slightly, and turned her face away resigned to her fate.

Riddick stared at her as he pulled the scrubs down her legs. She absolutely reeked of fear, disgust, anger.

He felt something akin to remorse for the young woman who lay shackled to the gurney; she really thought he was going to rape her.

She kept her head turned away as he yanked on the scrub pants. The coat arms were much too small for him so he ripped them off and split the seams down the side.

The moment the material touched his back flames shot up his spine and he doubled over in agony. His vision swam before his eyes and he had to gulp in air to keep from passing out.

He'd never felt pain like that before in his life. There was no way he was going to be wearing a shirt.

Steadying himself with a hand on the bed he rolled the woman over to face him, he noticed that she clenched her legs closed together and refused to open her eyes.

"Look at me," demanded hovering over her, when she refused he slapped her lightly on the leg. "Open your fucking eyes."

She peeked through the tear soaked lashes at him. Her lips quivered pitifully as she wept, "Please...please don't r-r-ra-."

She was cut off by his derisive snort. "Answer my questions and I won't hurt you," he said icily, "But if you pull some stupid shit, like trying to scream again, I'll break your jaw. If you try to bullshit me – and trust me I'll know if you do – it'll be your legs. You don't want to end up like those twenty two crewmembers, do you?"

She shook her head no.

"Good girl," he said lightly, sitting down on the bed and as he unbuckled the cuffs on his wrists, "first question: how the fuck do I get off this ship?"


In the silence of the isolated control room Davis sat staring at the illuminated screen in front of him drumming his fingers on the arm rest on the captain's chair. His dirty blonde hair was ruffled from constantly running his hands through it; his eyes were narrowed as they rapidly scanned the message in front of him.

ATTN: CAPTS: ASIMOS,DORIAN; ATTERLY,RAVEN; BURKART,CHAD; DAVIS,MERCUCIO; GIRVAL,JADE; GUILLEN,STEVEN; JAGRIAN,KOSAR; KORDYLAS,JOESEPH; LIVITZ,SEMORINA; MITCHELL,BLAKE; TAPNIOZ,ZIGWEN; VISCHWIST,JAYSEL.

COMMUNICATION: CC4L

SENDER: SONDERS, ABE; DEPT. DIR.

MESSAGE: EFFECTIVE IMMEDIATELY, IN ACCORDANCE WITH RECENT COUNSEL MANDATES, ALL GOVERNMENT CONTRACTED REPOSSESSION OFFICERS IN THE HUMAN AND PROPERTY RETRIEVAL DEPARTMENT ARE NOW, BY LAW, REQUIRED TO SUBMIT ACCURATE AND UP TO DATE COPIES OF THE FOLLOWING DOCUMENTS/ CERTIFICATES AT EVERY PORT OF ENTRY:

VESSEL IDENTIFICATION

COUNSEL IDENTIFICATION

CREW MANIFEST

CARGO/ PRISONER MANIFEST

FAILURE TO PROVIDE THE DOCUMENTS/CERTIFICATES LISTED ABOVE WILL RESULT IN THE IMMEDIATE SEIZURE OF BOTH CARGO AND CREW.

END MESSAGE.

Davis pressed his lips into an impossibly thin line. The fucking Counsel was making it real hard for him to run his business, and this extra inconvenience, however minor, just took the pounding in his head up to another level.

He was already pushing the envelope when it came to his black market dealings, but now things had really been fucked up. The Counsel was breathing down his neck, his contacts were disappearing by the dozens either from being killed off or tossed into slam, his crew was torn to shit, his control room operator was probably dead, his mechanic and weapons specialist were out of commission, and that last take-over had damn near blew his entire operation outta the water.

At least he didn't have to worry about Frye giving up any info.

That was only a minor relief. He hadn't been laid in almost three weeks and the mission to Trelios had been delayed by a week because they needed to lay low.

He lip curled in revulsion as he thought of the possibility of having to rely on rehydrated rations when their fresh food began to run out…and that was if the fucking engine didn't fall apart first.

His annoyance increased triple-fold as he thought of Jack; she had become progressively bitchier, colder and less compliant since he punished her for leaving the ship back on Sona, and recently she had been even less responsive in bed.

Not that it really mattered anyways, he thought lighting up a cigar, fuckin' broad. Should drag her ass outta bed, fuck her, and tell her to get back to work. This goddamn place is going to shit. Laid up for no goddamn reason. Stun shot wears off in six maybe seven hours. Wouldn'tve had to stun her if she'da listened. Sittin' there cryin' over some dead fuck…stupid. And for what? Because he took a shot for her. So the fuck what? He was stupid too.

But in the back of his mind the niggling sensation that something was just not right wouldn't go away. Why would a man like Frye – who, as far as he knew, had only seen Jack maybe three or four minutes a day in the galley and maybe passing in the corridors – take a shot for her? And even if he did, why would Jack be so damn upset? Eight months ago one of their crew had accidently ran in front of a shot meant for her; his brains had ended up splattered across her face and she hadn't batted an eye.

And that argument in the galley he had walked in on the first week? Initially, he'd written it off as a pissing contest between old and new crewmates, happened all the time. But now, looking back, it seemed a little intense for that. Whatever Frye had said to her before he left had hurt her.

That bothered him more than anything else. That look on her face…like she was about to cry. He'd never seen her cry. He'd struck her, humiliated her, fucked her until she was raw…and never a tear. But she'd been damn near hysterics when Farris tried to pull her from the hangar bay.

Now that made no goddamn sense.

People like Jack don't just breakdown over strangers…

Before his mind could digress any further his comm. started beeping and vibrating in his pocket.

Pulling it out he stretched in the chair and propped his feet up on the console. It was Jagrian.

Glancing at the small screen he saw that the text message was marked as important and a tingle of unease crawled up his spine. When he opened the message the unease was replaced by stomach churning fear and the cigar fell tumbled from his hanging mouth.

SENDER: JAGRIAN, KOSAR

SUBJECT: IMPORTANT! HACKED COUNSEL DATABASE. NOT MUCH TIME. HEAD FOR ZEMINOS QUADRANT…NO JURISDICTION.

MESSAGE: BE ADVISED: VESSELS/ CAPTAINS CURRENTLY UNDER COUNSEL INVESTIGATION.

CAPT. SEMORINA LIVITZ, THE IRIS

CAPT. KOSAR JAGRIAN, UKUR

CAPT. JADE GIRVAL, NINTU'S PRIDE

CAPT. MERCUCIO DAVIS, THE ISHTAR

CAPT. BLAKE MITCHELL, HANADUNE

AS OF NEXT MONTH GOVERNMENT INSPECTION CLERKS WILL BE POSTED AT EVERY PORT, STATION AND DOCK IN ALL SYSTEMS UNDER THE COUNSEL'S JURISDICTION.

He hurled the comm. into the thick Plexiglas window and the battery popped out.

"God damn it," he screamed furiously, "sonuva motherfucking bitch. Shit! Shit!!"

"Good news," a voice questioned sarcastically from behind, making him jump.

He whipped around in his chair to see Farris leaning up against the doorframe, arms crossed, eyebrows raised. The contemptuous smirk on his face sent Davis's rage spiraling upward.

"What the fuck d'ya want, Farris," he snarled raking his hands through his hair.

Farris's brow rose even further; and his smirk turned into a shit-eating grin. He hated Davis, and Davis knew it.

Farris stayed with this crew because – although in his opinion being subservient to Davis was like stepping barefoot in a pile of fresh dog shit – the man paid exceptionally well. To be sure, there was absolutely no love lost between the two, and nothing pleased him more than to see the man unhappy. Even if he sometimes suffered the consequences.

"Oh I don't know," Farris replied conversationally as he looked up to the ceiling, "I guess what every other guy wants. Make good money, party a little, get laid…" he stopped to watch as Davis's nostrils flared and his fists clenched at his sides.

He had to choke back laughter.

The other man sprang from his chair and Farris held up his hands, "No need for that. Riley's up."

"And Jack?"

All the humor drained from Farris's slender face, "She's up too, but she's not talking."

Davis lowered himself back into the chair, pulled a cigarette out of his pocket and lit it. Inhaling he fixed Farris with disgusted glare, "Tell her ass to get to work," he spat, "she ain't gotta talk to hold a fuckin' wrench."

Farris's lip curled, but he swallowed his words and walked out the door.

No, she didn't have to talk. Not one fucking word. She'd already shown her disregard for his orders back on Sona. And the more he pondered her actions concerning Frye – if that even was his name – the more it bothered him. As far as he was concerned he couldn't trust a word out of the bitch's mouth and would have find out everything he wanted to know by himself.

Davis scooped his comm. off the ground, popped the battery back in and began typing.

RECIPIENT: JAGRIAN, KOSAR

SUBJECT: IMPORTANT!

MESSAGE: I NEED ALL THE INFO YOU CAN GET ON THESE NAMES ASAP : JACQUELINE, JACK, AL WALID, FRYE.

The message was sent. There was nothing left for him to do but wait.

Clasping his hands behind his head, he reclined back in the chair and let himself become absorbed in the twinkling of the thousands of stars that littered the vast darkness of deep space.