A/N: This chapter has the start of a plot line that makes people question ages. I suppose I can put my thoughts on that here. Riddick and Jack seem to have a disturbing gap in their ages. Well, yes. They do.
Riddick at the time of CoR could be no older than 33. Most likely he's between 30 or 31. Both Shirah and Aereon state '30 years' so I tend to say that's definitive. The attack on Furya happened just as he was being born as he still had his umbilical cord attached (well, he was strangled with it, yeah? Riddick himself says so). Not to mention that the Lord Marshal was rather infamous for killing babies that way. This gives a total age that ignores time spent in Cryosleep. Every year spent in cryo is a year that one does not age. It's a known fact that Riddick spent time in at least two 'deep storage' slams, Butcher Bay and an unnamed one mentioned in the Pitch Black Novel (these would be triple max prisons where the inmates are kept in cryosleep. In the latter, he spent nearly three years attempting to escape).
Which brings me to the point I'm making. Riddick has spent a lot of time in Cryo. Every time he's escaped and been caught the mercs place him in cryo for their own safety. He's spent over 3 years in cryo while in prison. It's likely he spent time in cryo after he was found alive, both being rescued off Furya and later when he went to Sigma 3. I think it's safe to take off anywhere between 5 and 7 years. (The 29.3 years in prison bit from Into Pitch Black is suspect, in my opinion. It reflects what the company wants to be known, not the truth. It would make Riddick much older if you take into account his 'half my life' line from the movie. I suspect that Riddick was rescued and has a total custody record for his entire life of 29.3 years at the time Into Pitch Black is supposed to be set at, if you fudge it a bit and place it closer to CoR than Pitch Black. Meh.)
Okay, so what about Jack? In A Passage Riddick knew who her father was on Sigma 3. Riddick's first job there was when he was ten or so. It's likely that Jack was born within a year or two of his arrival on Sigma 3 although he didn't rescue her until later. Jack was a toddler at that point in at least appearance, and Riddick was working security. This was when Riddick was something like 14-15 years old. Jack could easily have been 3 or 4 years old. What it boils down to is that Jack looks 10-12 at the time of Pitch Black, but is likely older. She could be as old as 15. Riddick is no older than 26 then, and with the years deducted for his time in cryo he could be as young as 18 (not likely, but possible). Anyway… on with the story. And No, I don't own this. :-(
A Passage 6:
Playing the Game"…I'm telling you Riddick killed Zeke. I don't know what makes you think any different, and I don't care. He's a killer, understand? Now go make yourself useful and stay out of the way."
The ex-marine and the 'boy' had gone opposite directions, leaving one unconscious Richard B. Riddick chained in the darkened oppressive heat of the crumpled Hunter-Gratzner. Johns figured that the situation with the kid was taken care of by the way the boy sped off. He climbed a ladder and spotted a fairly secure location with a semi-flat area. The morphine was fading and he didn't want to risk waiting too long to fix the problem…
Jack, on the other hand, had gone to find Fry the moment she was done helping Johns. The captain was trying to talk down Shazza's hysterical state, and the Imam was doing his best to assist her. The dark haired woman was sobbing like her life had been torn apart. Jack paused. Maybe it had been, considering how much she and Zeke had loved each other. "I'm – Fry… Can I talk to you?"
Carolyn looked over at the child, "Um… Can it wait?"
"Go on, I believe I can assist Shannon here, Captain." Imam offered. Shazza didn't even look up.
A look crossed Fry's face at the 'captain' reference but she nodded to Imam, "Okay, Jack."
Jack glanced at Shazza again and back at Carolyn before walking far enough away to not hear the sobs. A deep breath of the burning air later, the youth squinted a the blonde woman, "Did you notice? Riddick's clothes didn't pick up the dirt like they were bloody. And the shiv he supposedly used to kill Zeke was clean. I don't know what he was doing there, but it wasn't to kill Zeke."
"Are you sure?" Fry asked.
Jack nodded, "Go look for yourself. There's no dirt on his clothes, anymore than the rest of us have anyhow."
The docking pilot wasn't sure why, but the suggestion that she go look at the man herself sparked a bit of defiance in her. Johns had claimed certain things about the larger man. As of the current moment all they had to go on was the cop's word. And there was something off about the readhead. "All right, Jack. I'll go look. You stay here. I don't know where Johns is, but if you've brought this up to him already I'd rather him think I was curious on my own."
"Can I go comfort Shazza?"
Carolyn smiled, "Yeah, that might help her." So much death had occurred already…
The feeling of small arms around her made Shannon Montgomery shift as nothing else had. She hugged the child so selflessly offering wordless comfort and managed to get her sobs under control. Jack simply placed her cheek against Shazza's head and swayed, just like Audrey had done when one of her siblings was hurt.
Inside the crash ship, William J Johns was far too doped up to really notice the noise made by a woman's light footfalls. He drifted in and out, thinking that perhaps it was a shade too hot to be napping under a midnight sun, dazzlingly dark, but blisteringly bitter to breathe. His head slowly slumped back against the metallic hull and he wondered why even the ice was scalding. But he had no energy to move, and the air was to heavy to fight so he slept.
Meanwhile below his feet, one very brave or very stupid docking pilot was studying a well-muscled bronze skinned man. She scanned his pants as his legs were sprawled out in front of him. His arms were taking most of his weight. Johns hadn't even bothered to make sure the man was comfortable or safe in his bonds. She pressed her lips together and moved half a step closer. Her eyes roamed over his wife-beater. The yellowish dust should have left quite a telltale sign if the black clothing had blood on it. But she saw nothing to indicate any moisture at all. It looked to her like Jack was right. So why did Johns insist that Riddick had killed Zeke if there was no evidence of it? One dark clad leg twitched and Carolyn felt a spike of unspeakable fear. She quickly moved back outside.
Imam was waiting for her as she emerged into the light. "It looks like something more is going on here than Johns is willing to admit, Father," she said. Imam raised an eyebrow. "I'm no expert, mind. But looking at the grave and looking at his clothes… something just doesn't add up."
"I know what I saw. He was there with his shiv out, poised like a gargoyle, waitin'. My Zeke's dead. And that – thing – in there is the reason why," Shazza stated pushing away the calming influence of the small hug and marching toward Carolyn and Imam.
Jack followed close on her heels, "But Shazza, what about his clothes? You saw that too. He was in the dirt and his clothes are clean!" The youth protested.
The bushwhacker fixed the boy a glare that was like shattered green glass. "I saw nothin' o' the sort, Jack. How can you defend that – creature?"
Jack recoiled, stung and hurt by the venom in Shazza's eyes, "I guess I don't know nothing." She looked at Fry; "I'm just a kid, after all. I'll go stay out of the way." The pain shifted into simmering anger as she threw herself into being 'useful'. She moved into the upper level of the crash and started shifting through the rubble at the far end of the crumpled bay. Oddly, this led to Jack indirectly following the merc's orders to stay out of the way but had her own reasons for doing so.
Outside, Imam and his two older boys were arguing that even Riddick deserved to make it off this rock. Shazza had other ideas along the lines of filleting Riddick alive, slowly. Not just leave him behind, but torture him to death. Zeke's passing clearly shattered whatever goodness she held inside into a million tiny razor-edged bits. Jack tried to filter out the harsh words but it was seemingly impossible to not hear the bushwhacker's angered tones.
An unknown amount of time later she heard Johns voice. The hype was siding with Imam…. Well, of course he was, Hype or no, he had to get paid somehow…. Fry was attempting to compromise…. Unsuccessfully. She did however manage to get Shazza to wait, to listen to the possibility that Riddick was perhaps not guilty using what Jack had told her. Fry had agreed that the only blood on bronze man's form had been his own. His clothes were clean. Fry had listened when the youth had secretly told her about the gore all over the inside of the grave that was not reflected by Riddick's blood-free clothes and had checked it out for herself. That was something at least.
Jack heard the con stir slightly, his chains rasping against makeshift holders in the walls as he shifted to get his feet under him and ease the ache in his arms. The light, but for one spot, was dim enough that he didn't feel lancing pain from his eyes at least. But his head throbbed and his ribs protested with every little move. Damn, that bushwhacker had a mean kick. But he was sure that her anger wasn't what spiked off his alarms. He could smell his angel's scent in the air, like she'd been inside the boat for a long time, diffuse yet renewing. Above him the Merc's distinctive walk told Riddick that his blue-eyed devil was approaching.
Johns walked past Jack, ignoring the 'boy's' scrounging. Jack looked up at him as he moved down the ladder. Johns was carrying a clean, newly made flaked bone shiv in one hand. 'Not a drop of blood on it,' Jack noted. So there again her impression was re-enforced. Not even a tinge of pink to the ivory curves that made up the cutting edge. Something about the merc's unwillingness to even consider that Riddick might have had another reason for being at the gravesite when Zeke was killed did not jive with him being a man of the law. The sound of Johns' feet hitting the floor echoed back up to Jack pulling her back to the moment. "Didn't you hear them sounds?" Riddick whispered to the ex-marine.
"What sounds, Riddick? The slicing of your bone shiv through Zeke's flesh? No, you piece of shit, I didn't hear nothing," Johns' voice echoed in the dusty hot unlit interior. Disheartening emotions welled up in the animal soul inside the teen. They fed the shadow as they surged through her. It whispered and she obeyed by moving closer to the ladder.
His vision might have been mono-toned, but the man standing in front of the ex-ranger was someone he knew well. He could still fill in the red hair and the blue eyes. A shaft of light stabbed the darkness near his face, forcing him to keep his eyes almost closed. It didn't matter. The scent he'd been so focused on before was near, and moving closer. He'd just stayed still until Johns' footfalls echoed overhead. Yet for all the adversarial elements of the relationship between them, the ex-ranger had held out a tiny hope that the merc would listen to reason, hear him out that something very dangerous that stirred deep within those spire-capped hills…and Johns had let him down. He couldn't resist a jab. Riddick's chains clanked softly, "The whispers, Johns. The ones that made you kill those kids…."
Jack's stomach churned, 'The dreams were real?' The youth was confused by the revelation, yet there was no denying Johns was dangerous. That was a fact known from the moment Audrey first looked into those glassy blue eyes. Hate and anger boiled up joining the animal instinct to hunt and kill, filling her soul, the demoness once more bubbling to the surface, driving away the tinge of fear and erasing the confusion.
Johns' voice came up hard, "Shut up, mother-fucker." There was a swoosh and a moist thud, like Johns' shotgun connecting with already bruised flesh. The teen listening in flinched back. "C'mon, Riddick, come up with a better lie." Jack heard a very soft groan and the sounds of Johns' footfalls getting closer. The animal inside did not want Johns to see her and scurried back away from the ladder. He emerged from the hatch as she bent down out of sight. The ex-marine walked right past her. The youth paused, holding her breath until the footfalls faded into soft crunching on the alien soil, then she moved toward the ladder again. Only there was another interruption…
'This is crazy,' Fry told herself as she listened to Johns state that Riddick made some crack-ass claim of hearing something. 'Oh, of course! You won't actually listen to the man,' she thought angrily. But Johns stating "Just keep the hell away from him until I figure out where he stashed the body, god-damn-it!" was too much. Carolyn was not going to let Johns, cop or no, dictate someone's guilt when he couldn't even see that the man was clean. She stomped away from the redhead, took a deep breath off her oxygen, and walked inside on the lower level of the crash.
The docking pilot must have wandered away from the others, or perhaps Johns had pulled her aside and told her about his conversation with Riddick. Whatever the case, Jack froze at the top of the ladder and waited. The huntress was not about to let this challenger get a foothold before it could…
Fear caused her to slow her footsteps, as the man became more visible. She had taken it upon her shoulders to defend him; she had to do this, no matter how scared she was. The docking pilot forced the lump in her throat down, "So where is the body?"
The teen peaked out to watch the unmoving male form. The huntress coiled inside her, heating her groin, feeding on her strong emotions. Riddick didn't move or even indicate he heard the blonde talking. Instead, the killer was focused on his own darkness, as it struggled to surface in response to something in the air.
Carolyn Fry had no idea what her presence sparked, nor how the two inner beasts were trying to reach each other as both perceived her as a threat to its claim on the other. She waited a moment, wondering why she was bothering. Maybe he was just being a jerk. Maybe Johns was right. But then that would make Jack wrong. That thought didn't sit well. She tried again, "Well -- do you want to tell me about the sounds?"
Jack was amazed, through the haze of her shadow, that Fry was actually trying to plead Riddick's case with the others. Of course, the ex-ranger was experiencing everything through his own shadowy haze. The struggle was so all consuming that he was only dimly aware that the blonde was there. As such he didn't move a muscle.
The silence was starting to get to her, as was the building tension in the air. She felt irritated and it showed in her voice as she attempted again to get some reaction out of the man she was attempting to communicate to, "Look, you told Johns that you heard something." She waited for a few moments more, 'Damn, he's not even going to acknowledge that I'm here.' Getting nowhere and feeling somehow let down, Fry turned to leave the way she had come in. But something prompted her to try a parting shot, "That's fine. You don't want to talk to me, that's your choice. But just so you know…. There's a debate right now as to whether we should just leave you here to die." She had given up on trying to defend Riddick and was walking back toward a bright stab of light that marked the exit.
Something in her voice got Riddick's attention through the haze of his animal desire for the scent above him, "You mean the whispers?" His voice was husky, almost playful. A deadly purr.
His response made Carolyn start and freeze like a rabbit with a wolf hunting it, or perhaps a pack of them. Her heart thudded in her chest as the sensation of an animal predator overflowed the space, making the already dense air that much harder to breathe.
Jack moved quietly down the ladder a rung. The huntress was just as much after its prey as the hunter was.
Inside the chained killer, his inner beast circled, not wanting the docking pilot at the moment. No, it wanted the other, the one like itself… So near…
The docking pilot turned and walked back, taking the bait almost in spite of herself, "What whispers?" she asked in a soft rasp. She felt like she was on the edge of hyperventilating.
The huntress surged back to the forefront, causing Jack to fight for control again. Biting 'his' lip, Jack barely hung on to his sanity. Carolyn Fry must not know… The teen gripped the support in an effort to stay quiet, unmoving, not noticed…
Riddick forced his attention fully onto the 'captain' the animal in him hoping to drive her away, "The ones telling me to go for the sweet spot just to the left of the spine. Fourth lumbar down, the abdominal aorta. What a gusher."
Jack could tell that Fry realized Riddick was jerking her chain by the way she moved to one side. The she-monster wanted to laugh, Jack stifled the sadistic sound.
Riddick continued on, "It's a metallic taste, human blood. Copperish." Fry shifted from foot to foot. "If you cut it with peppermint schnapps it goes away --"
Carolyn listened to the bullshit for a moment. It was the 'copperish' bit that made her snap. "Do you want to shock me with the truth, now?" the docking pilot barked at the bound man.
Jack stared at Fry somewhat surprised by her angered reaction. Riddick nearly smiled as he mockingly turned his head toward her, keeping his eyes tightly closed. It was a pity that she hadn't cut and run for that would have opened the way for the other being in the room to come to him, but again, he had to give the docking pilot credit for her balls. Maybe he should tell her? Fine, he'd try; "All you people are so scared of me. Most days, I'd take that as acompliment. But it ain't me you gotta worry about now." Nope not him, the animal untamed behind her maybe, Johns for sure… and the predator waiting under those spire capped hills for something to happen.
Fry listened. She was not sure if Johns' speech outside was getting to her, or if there was something else going on, but the bound man filled her with fear. No, terror was a better word for what she felt. God, this man was dangerous. It seemed like the killer in him was part of the fucking room, not just the male chained in the corner. It was thick, so thick… stifling. And yet, hypnotic. Even if she had wanted to bolt and run she was not sure she could. Perhaps, though, Riddick was finally coming clean about something. There was a lengthening pause. She was going to have to drag what he knew out of him in bits and pieces. Fine then, she would just do that, "Show me your eyes, Riddick."
The convict's voice purred again, "You'd have to come a lot closer for that." Tension began to build in the darkened space. Riddick could smell the docking pilot's fear, and the other female, his tiny angel of so long ago, whose scent carried so much meaning to him was like a counter-point to it. Sweet against the tang. She was not afraid. His nose picked up hints of signs she was growing up, maturing. His deep inner beast stirred stronger, responding to the undercurrents in the changing odor…
Fry began to move toward the man in the corner who waited like a coiled viper, her body screaming with nervous tension. Part of her knew this was stupid, but she had to prove to him that she didn't follow Johns' logic. Something about what Jack had said was totally believable. She had to give this man, dangerous as he was, a chance to prove that he had not killed Zeke. Sure, he was an asshole but that didn't mean he was a liar. She edged closer step by step…
Under the cover of Fry's fear something electric began to flow through the room. Jack could see it, feel it, taste it…. It seemed to originate from Fry and connect to something inside the dark form in the corner, something inside—the huntress? Yes, her she-monster. Jack was nearly panting with effort to stay in control. At least that was what it seemed like from the 'boy's' nearly out-of-body position. The fake persona watched the bound man shift slightly but not enough to make a sound. Fry's slow footsteps formed a tempo that Jack was breathing to.
The ex-ranger's voice took on a seductive air to its purr, "Closer." Fry was not really the object of his command, not truly the one he wanted to call over, but she would have to do. Her fear made her gasp like a fish out of water. Riddick was aware of his mean streak, his inhumanity, taking over. The coiled beast still wanted to scare the blonde woman off; she was a threat to its claim, yet unmade, over the one it had been waiting for. The human in him was not sure about the dark thing's intention toward the one he still viewed as a child and that created a duality. How could he protect the very thing his own darkness desired? What was it about her that made what was inhuman about him rise up to be so overpowering? How could he keep it caged? It was fighting him, challenging him, battering against his inner defenses, and charging the air with unintentional signals. He could not keep it from filtering into the conversation.
Fry glanced around at Riddick's bindings.
And then he moved, a sudden blur, a spring set free, like a dog on a chain. Fry started back; Jack slid down to the floor. Riddick's face was in a shaft of light. His eyes glimmering like black diamonds with a sliver radiance set on creamy cloth. He ignored the sharp glaring pain from the self-inflicted torture. Currently, he couldn't see shit. Luckily his nose and ears were as sharp as ever.
Fry collected herself and nodded as she stared at the quicksilver orbs. Then the beast Riddick fought to keep in check turned to Jack. He focused his animal gaze right on the 'boy'. He couldn't see her, but he could smell her. The Darkness inside him reached out and caught the answering Darkness in her maturing soul. His missing half. The source of his driving need. The animal side settled down now that the connection was made, now that it knew. But the human side, Richard, could only protest against this development. She was the Sun and he was bound to her by the strength of his need. The animal need and the human need were very different though and the human didn't dare look too closely at the nature of that difference.
Fry felt some odd energy pass by her. She glanced over her shoulder and saw who else was there. Jack. The current flowed from the killer to the child and back again between them. It was electric, powerful. Erotic. And not at all the sort of thing that should, by rights, be occurring between a man and a boy. Two men, maybe. Two adults of any persuasion she could deal with, but this… It wasn't right. What the hell was going on? Her fear rooted her to the floor as the energy flowed around her, tickling her senses with an erotic caress that threatened to make her ill if she tried to think about who else was involved.
It occurred to Jack that the convict had always known 'he' was there. "Where the hell can I get eyes like that?" The youth was filled not with fear but with blatant desire. Duel desire. To be like the man and to be with the man. The sexual component pulsed deep below the hero worship. It surged through her maturing body, setting off reactions that she had no control over, reminding the male persona that 'his' hold over this female biology was fleeting. His monopoly over her mind slipped further.
"You gotta kill a few people," the animal darkness offered in a low rumble.
"Ok, I can do it." Jack was totally serious. 'He' fought for control. If killing a few people was what it took, than that was what 'he'd' do. The huntress pushed the fake male persona out of the damn way. It was what she'd do… to prove herself, to cement the offer that shimmered unspoken in the dusty tension. If he wanted her to kill she would without question. Jack didn't even see the internal takeover before it happened. Suddenly 'he' was shoved back and the huntress, she-demon and shadow, was taking control slyly, letting go of the ladder support and finding sure footage among the ruined shards of metal littering the floor. The energy surged anew between one darkness, female, and the other darkness, male. The connection was so strong that they didn't even need eye contact to maintain it.
Oh, the beast inside liked that. He would have never guessed that the darkness inside another could be so strong. He'd never met anyone else with the same animal side he possessed. He wanted her. But there was another to deal with. Riddick shifted his gaze back to Fry, holding her there, frozen in space, "Then you gotta get sent to a slam, where they tell you you'll never see daylight again." He knew his angel was listening, hanging on every word.
But Fry, well, only his stare pinned her down and she was breaking free from his spell, backing off slowly, her lip quivering in fear. Carolyn struggled with herself. 'Fuck! I landed this ship. I survived the crash. I don't need to be scared of this asshole.' Anger rose to displace the terror, washing it out and giving her strength to pull away. Riddick's gravelly voice rolled over her, "You dig up a doctor and you pay him 20 menthol Kools to do a surgical shine job on your eyeballs."
The youth grinned, her own inner darkness fully overwhelming the male persona, shattering it into shards that would never quite fit back together again, "So you can see who's sneaking up on you in the dark?"
Riddick took his eyes off Fry and looked over at the disguised teen. His inner beast liked what it sensed in her and for the first time in years he smiled, "Exactly." Something inside them understood. They had a shared duality of the same type. In their locked gaze, only an instant in time but forever in the space of thought, they communicated what words could not. Each knew within their inner beasts what their humanity would now try to deny. Need.
The expression that formed in Riddick's eyes as he looked at Jack alarmed the blonde. His spell over the docking pilot shattered, "Leave!" Fry ordered. Carolyn did not understand what she saw but was scared silly by it. There was a kind of rapture passing between the convict and child. It made her react in haste. But the order broke the connection, and Jack's face dropped. "Leave," she said in a calmer, almost pleading voice. The 'boy' tightened up his face and huffed out of the crash, ascending back up the ladder. But she did not go far. Jack stopped once she was out of sight just so she could listen to what ever else Riddick was gonna say.
"Cute kid," the large bronze-skinned man teased. He smiled for a second time at the docking pilot's motherly instincts to protect someone she thought was much younger than his nose said she was. His human side was battering him on the fact that the docking pilot was real and honest, if a bit ruthless. Worth saving if possible. The beast slowly came around to agree, on the chance that perhaps she wouldn't interfere with its chances.
Carolyn took the moment's respite to catch her breath and get her heart back under control. 'God, what the fuck is going on here?' she wondered as the sensation of the killer seemed to fade back away. Suddenly Richard B. Riddick didn't seem so scary. She screwed up her face and looked at him. His entire attitude had shifted. He seemed like a totally different person.
Relaxing back into the corner on his heels, he focused on Fry. So she was trying to help him? 'Something's very dangerous in the hole, babe. But you aren't going to believe me without seeing it for yourself. None of you are. You're not ready to think I can tell the truth.' Still it was worth a shot if he could convince her. Okay… he'd play. "Did I kill a few people? Sure. Did I kill Zeke-man? No. You got the wrong killer."
'He's telling the truth,' her mind piped out. It was just instinctive trust. 'How odd… he's – telling the god-damned truth.' She shifted uncomfortably. 'If Riddick isn't the killer than what is? And why is Johns so against us finding out the real facts?' She wanted to sit down and look him in the eye again, be on the level with him, but the area didn't provide anything that would work as a seat. She sighed, "He's not in the hole. We looked." Well, she had looked after Jack pointed out the lack of blood on his clothes… What was left in the grave and the tunnel as far as the light would go was not enough to account for Zeke. Johns had been pushing his own theory about where 'sir-shiv-a-lot' had put the body and how he'd set up everything to make it look like he was not the killer. It did not seem to fit with the environment here.
The trap was sprung. "Look deeper," Riddick purred.
Fry's reaction was certain and immediate. Exactly what the ex-ranger was hoping for, she was going to take a closer look, right into the gates of hell if his instincts were correct. He listened as the docking pilot grabbed a safety belt, a coil of rope and a pick before moving outside. He could smell her fear solidify into determination. He couldn't fault Carolyn Fry for having guts, really. He liked that about her even if it did pose an internal problem with part of him that saw her as a threat. Right now it was more important to have an ally then to worry about how she might be interested in the girl. That was how he reasoned it. Jack was what she was going by, right? He could understand the name change, given what had happened when she was so young on Sigma 3. The sounds of feet running across the upper level brought his thoughts back to his current situation. Fry had set off at quite a pace, so it had to be Jack running off to catch up.
Johns, Shazza and Imam were still in deep debate about what to do with the convict chained up inside the crash when Fry shot out of the doorway looking like she was going caving. The blonde did not even spare the knot of adults a backward glance. The merc spotted her first and motioned toward the holy man and bushwhacker. Jack slid down the hull and hit the ground in a run. "Wait here, now -- Carolyn!" Johns tried to call Fry back. The docking pilot put up her hand to brush off his command. "Let me tell you what I think happened," he tried again as he upped his pace to catch up with her again. Jack caught up with the group as Johns pushed his theory, "I think he went off on the guy, buried him in the hills somewhere. Now he's got you believing there's something else out there."
"But there's no blood on him or his shiv," Jack tried again, gasping slightly from the run. Fry nodded in agreement without looking back. Shazza and Imam looked at the youth too. It was the first time either of them had been alerted to the fact that the murder weapon was clean.
"Maybe Sir shiv-a-lot licked it clean," Johns turned and looked at the boy. The kid was really getting on his nerves. And now he was defending the killer out loud when Johns would have preferred to keep it quiet. He shot the kid a cold look. Jack hardened his golden eyes and stared right back.
Fry sided with Jack, "Well, let's just be sure." She was going to look deeper because that was the right thing to do. The man chained inside was facing death or worse and she was not going to allow it to happen with out giving him a fighting chance.
Johns groaned inwardly. It was just not his day. Not at all. He turned back to the woman who seemed damn determined to waste time checking out every angle in what had to be and open and shut case. "Look, murders aside, Riddick belongs in the asshole hall of fame. He loves to jaw-jack and loves to make you feel afraid, because that's all he has. And you're playing right into it." Johns acted like he knew Riddick inside and out even more now that he was fighting to stay in control of the deteriorating situation.
And Fry was still not buying his line. She didn't know why, but something about Jack's logic just seemed right, and even if Riddick was fucking around with her mind she was not about to let Shazza fillet him alive without making sure that he'd actually done what he was accused of. Besides, Johns should know better. "I don't know why I'm trying to explain this to you," she cut in, "You're a cop. For God's sake, we've got to find his body."
The group walked for several yards in silence. Jack watched Johns tighten his jaw. Was he a cop? There had to be ways to find out. Clearly something made Fry important to Johns, so what would he do if someone else went into the hole? Maybe it was time to find out, "Hey! I'll go."
Johns and Fry both looked back at the 'boy', speaking at the same time. "Look, no one else is going," Fry told Jack. Their eyes met. Carolyn registered something unusual in the boy's honey-toned eyes. Intelligence, wisdom even, beyond what was possible for a 10-year old and under that wildness that reminded her of the man back at the crash. Momentarily startled, she raised an eyebrow.
Johns put a hand on the youth's shoulder at the identical moment, ordering with his voice and manner, "Stay here." But he was trying to keep Fry from investigating too. He stepped between them and moved the boy back out of the way with the same motion. "Look, being ballsy with your life doesn't change what came before. It's just stupid." Jack found herself against Imam, who placed a calming hand on her arm.
The spike of fear at the look in Jack's eyes morphed into anger at John's words leaving the docking pilot anything but calm, "What?! Do you think I'm trying to prove something?" Fry dared Johns to dig deeper into some shared secret. She wanted to put her hands around the flame-haired man's throat and throttle some sense into him. How could he not understand that it was this type of behavior, giving someone the benefit of doubt, which separated them from criminals like he claimed Riddick was?
"Well, are you?" he asked. Clearly he didn't. Fry stared him down; aggravation building inside until she realized that Johns either didn't care, or had become so used to his view of Riddick that it was all he could see. She turned with a sigh and made her way to the grave.
About 20 paces to the edge of the blood-splattered pit, Jack's senses began to buzz. She'd felt it before, when Zeke had died. Her first thought was that Riddick made her feel that way, but now there was no chance that the convict was the source of the sensation. It grew stronger as they got closer to the hole.
The blonde lightly jumped down into the grave. All the bodies, every one of them, were gone. Jack toyed with asking Fry not to go. Something bad was in there. Instead the youth watched her as she clipped the rope to the safety belt and moved over to the blood-splattered hole. Fry looked back at them, getting an 'okay' nod from Imam, before kneeling down in the rocky soil and working the hole larger with the pick.
Jack took up part of the rope, inline with Shazza and Imam. Johns stood back and shook his head. Fry slowly wormed her way into the hole and out of sight. All they could do was wait. After a time Shazza tossed down the rope in disgust, "She's not gonna find anything. Zeke's not in there!" Jack watched her begin to pace. Johns moved over and picked up the rope where Shazza had been holding it, almost in spite of himself. Then they felt the rope go taunt. All three of them. Imam moved down into the grave, cocking his head as if he could hear something. That drew Shazza back. Jack thought she could hear something now too, but not coming from the hole.
At the same time, back at the crash site, Riddick crouched in the dark, trying to force back growing panic. 'What the fuck have I done? Sent the one person who was gonna give me a fair shake to her death, that's what. So now what?' He didn't know the answer, but he felt it. He began to work the chains and the clips holding him to the wall. Carefully at first, then with increasing tempo he clanged the chains trying to get even one of them to give. The single thought in his mind was to stop the madness he'd started and to save the docking pilot's life.
"I thought I heard something," Imam looked back at them. Jack dropped the rope and began to swivel her head trying to locate where she was hearing Fry's voice. It was faint. Jack looked around and began to run for one of the pinnacles. The others noticed. Shazza grabbed the pick from the bottom of the grave and followed. She handed it off to Johns who hacked away at the side of the thing. Once a hole was large enough Imam thrust his hand through and felt around. Soon Johns put his hand through too.
Jack held her breath. The two men caught something. Fry's head emerged through the hole. "Give me your goddamn hand," Johns ordered as he reached for the safety belt.
"I heard you, Fry. I heard you first, " Jack told the shaken woman as Johns and Imam set her on her feet.
"Come on," Johns was saying as he led her further away from the funnel.
"Fry, are you ok?" Jack asked.
Imam asked, "What's down there? What is it?"
Shazza butted in, desperate for something about Zeke; "Did you find Zeke?"
"You're all right," Johns continued.
"Fry, are you ok?" Jack was not sure about Johns' off-the-cuff assessment.
"Ok." Johns let go of Fry.
"Fuck!" Fry said as she caught her breath. "That was so fucking stupid." She looked back at the pinnacle, "I don't know what the fuck is in there, but whatever it is --" she was clearing Riddick of wrongdoing, Jack realized suddenly as Fry continued, " – it got Zeke, and it nearly got me -- ahhhhh!"
Suddenly Fry was sliding backwards, screaming. And they were all scrambling to catch her. Shazza caught Fry's feet, Johns her waist. Fry braced herself against the opening and turned as Johns pulled her back. Jack caught the safety belt, holding it so that Imam could cut it. All the while Fry was screaming, "Get it off of me! Get it off of me! Get it off --!" Jack let go of the belt before it cut her hands, and it whooshed past Fry and down into the hole lightening fast.
Fry sank down to the ground, sobbing.
OoOoOoOoOoOoO
Riddick heard them returning. 'So the docking pilot made it out alive. Another reason for me to like her,' the convict thought. The group milled around outside while Johns told Paris about what had happened to Zeke and the bodies he had tried to bury. The pasty, snobbish fellow made a gagging noise at the merc's vivid imaginative retelling of how some predator, worse than the killer chained up inside, had torn a skilled survivalist into tiny shreds of flesh. Shazza told Johns to cut out his shit and leave the art-dealer alone. The conversation turned to what they should do with the man inside. Shazza was considerably calmer about him now, having discovered that there was a doubt that he'd killed her life-mate.
Jack listened for a while to the adults bickering over the problem, then crept back inside. In her backpack were some medical supplies, things lifted at the spaceport. Among those supplies was a tube of ointment for cuts. It formed a clear seal over the wound. Jack made a decision. She pulled the salve out of the backpack and moved over to where Riddick was crouched. "No cutting torch this time, I'm afraid," Jack whispered, "but I got some salve for that wound on your head."
Killer or no, the big man smiled softly at the kid's attitude. She was worth saving. It was a comfort enough to have her this close, although his beast stirred with determination to make a claim on her. The human side, Richard, clamped down on the animal circling internally like a panther in a cage that was too small. 'I can't hurt her, you know,' it reasoned with him, 'chained, just like you are. Makes her safe. She is ready now.' Yet he fought it back. What his darkness wanted from this tiny spark did not matter. He had to play it slow. He closed his eyes as she stepped into his personal space, totally unafraid of him hurting her. Her scent was strong. Faintly copperish. He took in a breath full of it. She was no longer a child. He'd already known. Give it time. He hissed as Jack touched the tip of the tube to the wound and gingerly spread the salve with a gentle fingertip. Something else she knew how to do from experience. Like the water. Riddick figured that she'd tended to a cripple at some point. It was time to let her know that he knew her from before. From a time when they lived on a wild, rough planet filled with nasty creatures called Spitfires. From his time on the other side of the law. "You from Sigma 3?" Riddick kept his voice low and soft so that it did not carry. He turned his face toward her neck; close to her ear at first then dropped it more toward her shoulder.
Jack noticed Riddick's move, that he was almost too close. "Why?" The male persona was once again pushed out of the female body, reminded harshly that it did not belong. Her heart thudded in her chest at an uncomfortable pace for a moment before settling down again. There was something about this man that was so…different…than the men she'd feared. He was not threatening her. He was not trying to touch her. He was not leering at her. Yet she was feeling something altogether new, and it scared her just a bit.
"Cause there's only one place where the dirt carries it's own special scent, and tourists usually don't go there." Riddick was watching very closely for signs that his darkness was right about her. There was a faint tinge of pink on her face. A different tempo to her breathing. He could see she was experiencing something for the first time, and that it frightened her. He let the situation stew for a moment, enjoying the additional overtones that rose off of her in her odor.
Jack swallowed. Did she have some invisible sign around her neck or something?
The ex-ranger smiled, "Either that, or you remind me of someone I used to know, a long time ago." His voice softened into a soothing tone, breaking her fear and washing it away. Jack moved back a bit, leaning slightly, looking for other injuries. "I knew a woman there, on Sigma 3. She had a daughter who would be just about your age now."
She could feel his stare on her face, like he was studying every feature. "Yeah? 'Lots of kids my age there…" Jack whispered not meeting those quicksilver eyes. Her heartbeat was pounding in her ears, how could she lie to this man? There was something so familiar…. She twisted to the side spotting an injury that needed tending.
"And your mother's name would be?" Riddick inquired softly as the teen worked on a scrape on his arm.
"Aubrey," Jack said. The truth came out so easy. She never even thought about her mother's name before, even though she heard a hundred men say it. Still, it was so unlikely that Riddick really knew her. Jack's view of her mother was that of a wasted, washed out, beaten – whore…. Had she ever been pretty enough to catch a man like Riddick's attention?
The bound convict did not move. It was all he needed to know. Sigma 3 had been on his mind for months serving as a distraction from his ever-present problem of how to slip Johns. It had been a long time since he'd even thought about whom he'd known in the past and here it was staring him in the face. "Funny, that's not a common name. How likely do you think it would be for two women with that name on a world with a very small population to have children who are the same age?" Riddick asked. He did know her…he had rescued her from the slave pits. He had come across a brutal stoning with his men and broke it up, to find three people, an old man, a woman just barely older than himself at the time, and a toddler-aged girl in the center of a pit. The man had curled himself around the woman and child, but was little more than a bloody, battered, bag of shattered bone. The woman, Aubrey, was bruised, battered, but alive. And the girl… She was right here in front of him. But back then he had managed to keep the woman and her daughter safe and hidden for eighteen months. The best time of his entire cursed life had been with them, and he had doted on the girl like she was his own flesh and blood…
"Not likely at all," Jack looked at him with alarm…. The male persona shattering for a second time that day. It would never be more than an act now. Something to pretend, and it wasn't even a good shield anymore, shattered as it was. "Please don't tell…" Her eyes welled up with panicked tears.
"Now, don't…." Riddick started somewhat harshly. Then he remembered how he quieted the tot that he'd all but adopted, "Shush, babe." Riddick's voice had a dreamy quality to it, one that struck a cord with Jackie, calming her, drying the tears. Echoing back to a time when she felt totally safe, back to when her mother's voice had been filled with love. Jackie swallowed and nodded. Riddick's attention was above them. Jackie now heard it too. Johns, walking. Coming closer. "Go hide." Riddick ordered with a barely audible whisper. His eyes told Jackie where to go. She dodged away; securing herself behind a container just as Johns came down the ladder with his shotgun over his shoulder. Cold fear gripped Jackie's belly as she peaked out to watch what was happening. They must have finally convinced Shazza to agree with them. Or Shazza had convinced them….
Johns came down the ladder and walked past the teen's hiding spot. He carried his full complement of weapons; minus the handgun he'd given Zeke that was now lost inside a burrow that no one was stupid enough to go back into. He had made progress with Shazza even if he had to side with the docking pilot on Riddick's innocence about Zeke's death. Not that he liked admitting that the convict didn't kill someone he'd accused him of killing, but this time he realized that the large man's skills might save their asses. He could use that, then turn him over for one last time and the universe would go on its merry way. The merc paused in the archway with his shotgun over his shoulder and looked at the black garbed figure crouched in the shadows. Time to put on the best bullshit act he could and pray that Riddick bought it. He cleared his throat to get the ex-ranger's attention.
Riddick, for his part, was relaxed enough, or at least that was how it seemed to Jackie who was carefully watching everything from her hidden vantage. He lazily shifted his position to show Johns that he knew the merc was there, not looking as he spoke, "Finally found something worse than me, huh?" Riddick was playing with Johns. Toying with him like a cat with a mouse. Jackie smiled.
Johns clenched his jaw. He did not like the convict's attitude. He did not like that fact that Riddick was trying to push his buttons. This was not a game. He was deadly serious. He put the shotgun in its holster and shifted to one side, resting an arm up on a support, "So here's the deal. You work without chains, without bit, and without shivs. You do what I say, when I say it."
Riddick focused on the fake-badge's face with his metallic stare. He knew Johns, his own personal blue-eyed devil, was not one to let a payday slip by. There had to be a catch and not just of the behave-or-I-shoot-you variety. So what was his ploy? "For what?" Riddick's voice hardened. He was no longer playing. Suddenly the stakes were too high for it. "The honor of going back to some asshole of a cell? Fuck you."
Johns shifted. Jackie thought he might be nervous. In reality he was trying to get the words spoken just right, just sincerely enough for them to seem truthful. It all hinged on Riddick believing that he'd give up the money, "The truth is -- that I'm tired of chasing you." It was… the truth in reality. Just letting Riddick go free wasn't really part of the plan. Johns wasn't altogether sure that Riddick believed him, but it was this or a messy death for everyone.
It might have surprised Riddick too, if he was buying the tale hook, line and sinker. But he wasn't. Johns was well able to tell clever half-truths, misdirection, and even outright double-crossings. This could be any of those things. Jackie could see he was working everything through, feeling it all out. There was something in his position, the way he held his head that broadcast his doubt. Yeah, Johns was telling the truth. He was tired of the chase. That was why they were heading to Tangiers in the first place. Johns was not about to give up the final reward, but in this case it might be good to just play along, to wait for the right time…. "Are you saying you'd cut me loose?"
Johns shook his head, realized that he'd answered wrong, then said, "I'm thinking you could have died in the crash." He hoped the convict hadn't noticed.
Something was not right about this 'deal' Jackie concluded. It seemed Riddick felt so too. His voice was hard, taunting with a deadly edge, "My recommendation: Do me." Jackie's heart caught in her throat. She wanted to burst out into the open but didn't dare. Something in Riddick's stance told her that if she stepped in now he'd be just as likely as Johns would to hurt her. So she froze, after flipping her back to the scene, her eyes squeezed tightly shut, and Riddick's voice ringing through her skull, "Don't take the chance that I'll get shiv-happy on your wanna-be ass."
"Okay," Johns said. Jackie heard the shotgun scrape in the holster.
"Ghost me, mother-fucker. That's what I'd do to you." A dare? A death-wish? Jackie didn't know, but she could feel the tension mounting. She heard the shotgun slap against Johns' palm and then fire. Part of her curled into a sickened pit of cold fury even though she did not move. She heard Riddick's chains hit the floor, but did not hear a thud of a body. Jackie opened her eyes. She still did not dare to breathe.
"I want you to remember this moment. The way it could have gone and didn't. Here." Johns had not killed him. Jackie dropped her head forward. The cold ball inside her still did not go away. She felt slightly sick. Relieved, but sick. Then she heard sudden noise. It made her jump, twist, and look at what was happening. Riddick had Johns' shotgun leveled on Johns' throat. His face was a mass of murderous rage. Johns had his hands up. 'Maybe he's shitting his pants,' Jackie thought, 'It would serve him right.' Johns quickly attempted to talk the tension down, "Take it easy."
"FUCK YOU!" Riddick shouted at him. Jackie could tell he wanted to just blow Johns away, right here, right now. He ratcheted a shell into the barrel, then spotted Jackie's face watching him.
"Do we have a deal?" Johns asked.
Riddick relaxed his rage. It was not the right time, the right way. He took a deep breath, "I want you to remember this moment." He lowered the gun, watching Jackie as he did so, then he threw the gun off to the side and moved away. The first thing he needed to do was make sure that there was someone here to watch his back besides Jack. Although she had been doing one heck of a job at working Johns' stranglehold loose on her own.
The ex-marine stood frozen and still until the killer's light footsteps faded into crunching in the alien soil. His entire being was numb from the raw blow of emotions that had been directed his way. After a time he moved to retrieve his gun from where it had landed. His mind remained blank, likely from the shock that it was still encased in his brainpan. In a haze he moved to follow the black clad man's path out of the crash, not aware that someone else had witnessed the entire episode.
Jackie ducked back out of Johns' view. She sat there until she was alone then looked at the tube of ointment crumpled in her hand. She shivered inside, her body finally waking up the rest of the way from the cryo-sleep. The sick feeling solidified into cramps. It was going to be a lot harder to play the role of a boy…
OoOoOoOoOoOoO
Carolyn Fry watched the bronze skinned figure emerge from the crash. Part of her was relieved that he was no longer in chains and part of her knotted with worry. Something about the dynamics between the two men's relationship was odd. It was hard to tell which one was the good guy sometimes. They were so alike, yet so different from one another. Her eyes followed the convict until his form disappeared from view as he went inside the detached cargo compartment. Imam seemed to welcome Riddick's help. That had to be something in the killer's favor, right? She had heard the shotgun go off. A stupid waste of ammo, really. After a long while the company man walked out of the crumpled ship body and towards her, "So? Can we trust him?" She asked as he got closer. Her answer was a shrug. "Johns?" She fought back her feelings against him. It had been drilled into her that Company people had to stick together in the face of the unknown.
The intense look from the docking pilot broke through the dazed feeling in his brain. He thought for a moment, watching the emotions play over the docking pilot's face, "Can we afford not to, Carolyn?" The redheaded man told her, "I'll keep an eye on him, but as long as he thinks he's going free it'll be okay." Okay so that hadn't come out right. The blonde woman gave him an odd look, but didn't say anything. "We got bigger problems anyhow. Likely if we are going to survive the ghost town is better suited for it than the crash. Besides the holy man thinks he can get the water running again, and the boys said there was food stores there. Emergency rations like those don't go bad. And there's the skiff…" Not that he personally thought that the damn thing was going to do them any good, but it was a source of hope, something they desperately needed at the moment. And maybe the communications would work if nothing else…
"Yeah, I'll see what Imam and I can rig up to carry a power cell. I just hope the electric adapts," she started to walk away. "Johns? Rally the troops and tell everyone that we're going to move." He nodded at her, then rolled his eyes at her back as she moved off toward the cargo hold. Fry felt his change in attitude almost as soon as she turned her back. What was the deal? Who should she be worried about, Johns or Riddick? She suppressed a sigh. The fact was that she didn't know and if she continued to take things at face value things would likely go downhill fast. So how would she handle the situation if it were two co-workers? 'Follow your gut, girl,' she answered herself, 'just keep your cards close to your chest and follow your gut.' Right now her instincts were to keep both unknowns at a distance and stick to Imam's side…