Author's Note: I've been experiencing an issue with my laptop, so it's possible that it might stop working one of these days. Hopefully, I can figure out the problem before it does.
Anyway, not much of Riddick here but I promise that he'll show up in the next chapter. With all this build up I hope their first meeting isn't a disappointment. The next update may take a while, but I'm surprised that I've been able to keep up my goal of at least one update a month. Usually I aim for twice a month, but I can't predict what life will throw at me and how long my inspiration will last. Plus, I have other stories that I need to give my attention and time to work on as well.
Chapter 4
G System
I joined the survivors as I straggled outside. The valley floor was sandy with low hills to one side and spiked with earthen spires. Scorching down upon everything was two suns; one red and one yellow.
"Well. Our own little slice of heaven," the lanky man said, frowning in distaste at the scenery. He pulled off his glasses, squinting at the brightness and wiping them clean before putting them back on.
"What's your name?" I asked, glancing at him.
"Paris P. Ogilvie and you?"
"Tasha."
The Chrislams fell to their knees and Imam picked up some sand, letting it slip through his fingers. "Which way to New Mecca? We must know the direction in order to pray properly," he asked.
"North? South? East? West? Nobody knows," Johns said, snapping open a compass and finding the needle swaying uselessly.
He and the Paris walked away, leaving Imam's group alone. I watched as they devised a way to pray and they decide to put their backs together, so that each one faced a different compass point.
Jack hummed besides me and I turned around searching for where Zeke and Shazza have gone to. The blonde woman came out, taking a look at our surroundings and shook her head. She began climbing up the side of the ship, stopping a few times to wince and shake her hands from the hot metal. Looking up on top of the ship I spotted Zeke and Shazza were already up there, most likely to get a better view of the land. Johns and Paris were also making their way up there, having a head start before the blonde woman.
I nudged Jack to get his attention and pointed up at the others. Before he could start climbing up the ship I stopped him. "The outside of the ship is still hot from the crash, so you're got to be careful where you put your hands at. Use your sleeves if you've got to grab on something when you're going up," I said. I help him up and made sure that he didn't slip.
I followed behind, letting my hands heat up before grabbing onto the hot metal with my bare hands. Getting close to the top of the ship Zeke offered me his hand after Shazza helped Jack up and away from the edge. I smile at him in thanks and quickly shook the energy from my hands. I grabbed his when it was safe and he helped me the rest of the way.
"There's big talk about a scouting party..." Johns said, giving the blonde woman and myself a chance to see everything before he continued on, "then we saw this."
We see a huge smoldering pit in the ground behind the ship. The trail of debris stretched beyond what we could see and it continued into the desert dunes. With that kind of wreckage, it was doubtful that there were any other survivors from the crash.
"Is anyone else having breathing problems?" Paris asked, looking at each of us, "Aside from me?"
"Like I just ran or something," Jack voiced, tugging at his collar to get some fresh air to cool his neck.
"Feel one lung short. All of us," Shazza confirmed, breathing in deeply.
"Well, I tend towards the asthmatic and with all this dust..." Paris said, waving his hand vaguely in the air before him.
Now that I think of it I don't feel any different, but I also don't feel the heat like they do. With a quick look around, most of them are sweating and are short of breath. "I suppose it's a bit like climbing the highest mountain where the air is only about one-third as dense as the air at sea level. With each breath it'll be a challenge to get enough oxygen."
"It might take a few days for our bodies to get use to it," the blonde woman added.
"For now we're okay, but I can see this becoming a problem the longer we're stuck here," Shazza said, pushing some strands of her hair behind her ear.
"Oh, I was wondering is the man that I helped the navigation officer, Owens?" I asked, wanting confirmation on his identity.
"Yes," the blonde woman said, "he would know better than me on where we are."
"And you are?" I asked.
"Carolyn Fry," she replied, "a pilot."
"Is he still unconscious?" I asked, wondering if it was a good idea to leave him with her. I don't trust her. Not just because of what she was planning to do, but because she did just leave him with a criminal basically in the other room.
"He was still asleep when I left him," Fry said, biting her lip.
"We can't leave him alone for too long," I stated, looking at Jack. "Can you go ask Imam to keep him accompany?"
"Sure," he went off, not having to go far to pass on the message.
"So, what the bloody hell happened, anyways?" Zeke asked and everyone looked towards the blonde woman, hoping she had some answers.
"Something knocked us off-lane. Maybe a rogue comet? Maybe we'll never know," she responded.
"Anything else?" Johns prodded.
"Like what-" but she was interrupted.
"Well, I for one am thoroughly fucking grateful. This beast wasn't made to land like this. But cripes, you rode it down," Shazza said, turning to the rest of us, "C'mon, you lousy ingrates, only reason we're alive is because of her."
The others chime their agreement, laying thankful hands on her shoulders. The woman's face is blank, betraying nothing as they anoint her their savior. I stayed silent, knowing full well that she didn't deserve it because she intended to purge us all into the abyss. I would say something, but we have more important things to worry about.
When they were all done, I spoke up. "Shazza is right. The oxygen deficient in the atmosphere is gonna be an issue. I rather we do something about that now than later. And the last time I check most ships have some sort of portable oxygen tanks or respirators."
"There are some pressure suits in the main cabin," Fry suggested, "we can use the liquid oxygen canisters that comes with them."
"That will work," Shazza agreed.
We all head back down and into the main cabin. We passed by the criminal and than Imam's group as they watched over Owens.
"Start ripping them out," Fry said, passing a suit to each of us. "Quick hits only; try to make it last."
"I'll see 'bout makin' this air go a bit further. With your permission, of course," Zeke asked, looking at her.
Fry blinked in surprised, but nodded in response. Zeke and the others got to work in removing them from the suits. I didn't really need it, but I unattached it from the suit anyway and pass it onto Zeke to work on. I stood besides her, keeping my back towards the others. From the corner of my eyes, Johns shuffled closer, but I'm not too sure if I imagined it or not. "You haven't actually confirmed if rescue is coming for us," I whispered. I have my suspicion as to why she hadn't answered.
She paused, looking down. "I...I don't know." She glanced at the group behind me and whispered, "the emergency transmitter activates automatically when the ship has taken on a lot of damage, but..."
She paused, her eyes scanning at the state the ship is in.
"It didn't survive the crash landing to continue transmitting," I finished, grimly.
She nodded.
"And I'm guessing there's no way for us to contact anyone either. Do you think Owens was able to send out a distress signal?"
"I don't know. Maybe."
"Too bad we can't ask him," I said, sighing. "We have two options than. We can rescue ourselves, which I'm not sure is even possible or we play the waiting game for a rescue that may never come. Or if it does come, it might be too late. Probably the latter, since a huge company like the Hunter-Gratzner is going to eventually notice that their ship filled with passengers and valuable cargo is missing."
I looked towards the group, crossing my arms. "If we were lucky this planet would have had a settlement on it. But it doesn't. People would've been rushing over here by now to investigate."
Jack popped up next to me, unexpectedly. In my surprise I nearly lost control, but I quickly reign in my power. This planet has too much energy, most of which is all coming from the heat. Because of that, I'm having a hard time keeping track of everyone since they all blur together.
It's commonly known that the universe is made up of matter and energy. Matter is made up of atoms and molecules and energy causes the atoms and molecules to always be in motion - either bumping into each other or vibrating back and forth. The motion of atoms and molecules produces a form of energy called heat or thermal energy which is present in all matter. Even in the coldest voids of space, matter still has a extremely small but some measurable amount of heat energy.
I'm unable to feel it when there's so little amount giving off energy, and more so when it's surrounded by something stronger. And the thing about energy is that it can take on many forms and can change from one form to another. Many different types of energy can be converted into heat energy. Light, electrical, mechanical, chemical, nuclear, sound and thermal energy itself can each cause a substance to heat up by increasing the speed of its molecules.
This planet has a lot of energy. There are two suns baring down upon us, possibly a third sun too. But I'm not completely sure about that because whatever it is, it's farther away and on the other side of the planet. But I'm most likely correct because I don't know anything else that could give off that same amount of heat energy as a sun would.
Sand is also everywhere, which adsorbs the two sun's rays like a sponge and we're in a broken metal ship. It doesn't help either that we're all clumped together in the same spot too. If I concentrate I can vaguely tell where everyone and everything that produces energy or heat energy is at. I don't want to be caught off guard, but it's hard to do when there's a constant buzzing feeling at the back of my mind that keeps bothering me.
I've been doing my best to ignore it as much as possible, but my attention keeps slipping at times. It would've probably drive anyone else nuts, being constantly aware of everything that has or gives off energy. Something about this planet is strange too. It shouldn't be this...active? I don't know, it's a bit hard to pin down what it is. Sometimes it feels like there's a giant lava swimming underneath our feet and other times it reminds me of a city filled with people.
Jack focused his attention on Fry. She stepped back, giving Jack more room to talk to us both.
"Well, is someone coming for us? Or are we all just gonna die of exposure or dehydration or sunstroke or maybe even something worse?" he asked loudly, and after noticing our expressions added, "Hey, you don't have to worry about scaring me."
Fry frowned, looking back at me. But thankfully Shazza cut in, drawing Jack's attention to her. "We're worried you'll scare us," she said, ushering him away. "Name's Jack, right, love? And you're going to Taurus Three like some of us are?"
"Yeah, but, do we even have enough food to get there? Or will we have to resort to cannibalism?" Jack asked, concerned.
"You don't need to worry about that. We've only just crash landed on the planet. So we gotta focus on one thing at a time and not think of the what ifs," she said, having him sit besides her. She continued distracting Jack, showing him how to modify the oxygen canister to last longer.
Fry moved into the other section of the cabin, the one containing the criminal and I followed behind her. She stared at him, pursing her lips. "What are we gonna do with him?"
"Big Evil?" Johns replied, having followed behind us into the room.
"Are we gonna keep him locked up forever?"
"Be my choice. Already escaped once from the max-slam facility on-"
"I don't need his life story. Is he really that dangerous?" she interrupted.
"Only around humans."
I roll my eyes at that response and asked, "I'm not going to be calling him that. So, what's his name?"
"Richard B. Riddick. He's a violent sociopath and a murderer that's wanted on five planets in three systems," Johns answered.
"Okay. Good to know," I hummed, distracted by what the chained up man was doing. He lifted himself up towards the ceiling, straining against the cuffs. With the horse-bit still strapped his to mouth, he titled his head up and something dripped down onto his face. He angled his head, letting whatever it was dribble down into his mouth. Fry moved closer, getting a better view of whatever the liquid was.
"Oh, Christ..." she cursed, suddenly running and snatching up an emergency light that was strapped to the wall.
"The fuck-"
I ran after her, not hearing the rest of what Johns was going to say. I wonder if it's what I think it is. Because the last thing we need right now is to lose water in a desert planet with two fucking suns.
Fry hurriedly climbed up the wall-rungs and crawled through the dusty superstructure to reach the water cistern. She opened the crank hatch and found light invading the interior.
"Fuck..." her face blanched at the sight.
"How bad is it?" I shouted, looking up into the opening in the ceiling.
Zeke rushed in and yelled. "Well? Is it just the pump?"
I see flashes of the hand light and occasionally sounds of her movement, but she stayed silent.
"Her lack of response doesn't bode well," I said, when a minute had nearly passed by without a word. I grimaced, imagining what kind of panic this news might invoke in the others.
"Please, let it be the pump. We can fix that," he mumbled, handing me a respirator. "We're still working on them, but I got yours done. After this, we were thinking of finding whatever we could and fill it up with water. But then we saw her running here. Johns said that some sort of liquid was leaking down and I just knew."
"This is a big problem," I said, moving away from the wall and putting the respirator around my neck. I don't need it, but it's there if I ever do. "Unlike food, the maximum time an individual can go without water seems to be a week. That estimation gets shorter if we include other factors, like the environment and its temperature."
"We won't last long in this broiling heat," Zeke concluded, grimly.
Fry appeared in the opening. "Ask if anyone has anything in cargo. Anything to drink!" she clarified, turning the hand light off.
Zeke left to ask the others and I stayed, making sure that Fry didn't slip as she climbed down. I may not like her, but she's proving to be somewhat useful. And if we all want to get off of this stupid planet than we need to work together.
"Was there nothing left that we could collect?" I asked, letting my hand hover behind her back.
"No. I was hoping there might have been some pockets of water, but the damage created a funnel," she said climbing down.
"Maybe we'll have some luck in cargo," I said, shrugging, "But it's very unlikely."
We both head to the cargo hold, meeting Johns and Paris on the way there. The oversize doors were halfway opened from when Zeke and Paris first entered. We climb into the dark corridor lined with cargo containers, and each one contain an access panel on them. Leading the way, Fry's hand light swept past the numbered doors.
"Mine is here," Paris said, going in front of her to unlock it. He pressed his palm against the ID pad and the door rolled up. An interior light blinked on, revealing the contents.
As Johns moved closer, he suddenly falters and grabbed onto a metal rung to steady himself. I bump into him when he stopped in front of me unexpectedly. I hold his arm making sure he wasn't going to topple onto me.
"What's wrong?" Fry asked, concerned.
"Little swap-flu from the Conga system. Never shook it with all this cryosleep."
"You should be resting then," I said, eyeing his pale complexion. "All this running around probably isn't helping you to get better."
"I can't. There are things that need to get done first," he said, pushing away from the rung. "I'll rest once this is all over."
"Alright, as long as you don't push yourself to the point of passing out," I said, shrugging and letting go.
Fry and I shared a glanced, picking up on the fact that he had been sweating and shivering at the same time. Hopefully, whatever he has isn't contagious. We really don't need another problem like that to deal with too. I also don't understand what Johns is doing here with us. Isn't keeping watch on a dangerous criminal more important than this? All we're doing is just checking Paris's container to see if he has something to drink besides alcohol. Anyone could've come with us to do this.
The same hand that I touch Johns with I wiped on my pants. And I watched as Paris opens his container to reveal Tiffany chairs stacked up high to the ceiling. There's bronze eagle lecterns in a pile next to them, oriental umbrella stacked in the corner, Neo-Egyptian castings scattered around and pre-Chrislam chalices sticking out of a box. All of them were priceless treasures.
"I didn't have time to check earlier, but it's all here." Paris cooed ecstatically.
Fry and I turned and saw why the lanky man seemed so happy. The content of his locker could have stocked a major museum.
"King Tut's tomb," Johns muttered, his face set in a greedy scowl.
Paris noticed. "Be surprised what these will fetch in the Taurus system," He crowed. "Here, this Wooten here..."
Brushing pass him, Johns lifted one of the secretary as if weighing it.
"Easy, easy," Paris said breathlessly. "Very rare."
He pushed open the unlocked top shelf. Cubbyholed in the small wooden desk were dusty bottles of sherry, vintage port, Cognac, Glenfiddic, scotch, Bicardi 151 Rum, and overproof vodka.
"This is it? Booze? That's what you have to drink?" Fry said, incredulous.
"To be fair you didn't exactly specify," I mumbled, staring at the bottles. "I was hoping he had something else to drink besides alcohol. But it doesn't look like it."
I don't remember the last time I had a drink. I do have a bottle of water, but it won't last long if everyone knows about it and wants to take a sip. Of course, I don't have to tell them about it, but that could lead to distrust when they do find out. Plus, I'm not that selfish. The first ones to get water would be the children and the injured while the rest of us will just have to endure.
"200-year-old single malt scotch is to 'booze' as foir gras is to duck guts," Paris said, haughtily.
"A toast to whatever he just said," Johns announced, cracking a bottle open of Glenfiddich.
"Really?" I said, skeptical as he took a sip from it.
Johns shrugged, looking at Paris's treasures more closely. And Paris didn't move to stop him and instead he settle with glaring at him with a displeased frown on his face.
"I'll need a receipt for that," Paris said, and turned to Fry. "For all these. Even the two from earlier."
"At least it wasn't a complete waste," I said, pursing my lips. "It did helped to save Owens' life."
"Top of my list," Fry assured him, rolling her eyes when he turned away.
Johns passed the bottle and Fry accepted. She took a long drink and handed it to me. I lifted the bottle up, wondering if it was a good idea for me to have some. I am a bit curious to see if has any effect. I know a few sips won't have me losing control if I do. I'm not a complete lightweight, at least from what I remember the last few times I had some.
However, what would happen if I did get drunk as I am now? This situation isn't the place or time to test that out, but it's something that I might want to think about some other day. So I take a gulp of it, feeling the aged Scotch whiskey burned a soothing warmth down my throat. It was surprising good, probably because it's been aged for a lot longer than 18 years. If so, that would make it a ridiculously expensive drink that I've ever had in my entire life so far.
I sighed, feeling relaxed as warm pleasant tingles spread all over me. I passed it back to Fry and she took another long gulp from it.
Imam and one of his acolytes entered inside. I guessed the other two were left behind to watch over Owens. Already a bit tipsy, Fry lifted the bottle up in an offered. "I don't suppose...?"
He gave her a regretful smile. "Unfortunately, it is not permitted, especially while on hajj,"
"Why?" Johns snapped. "There is no water. You understand that, don't you?"
Imam smiled patiently, as if instructing an errant child. "All deserts have water somewhere. God will lead us there."
"It's not impossible," I agreed, turning to Johns to explain. "It's all about knowing where to look for it. If there's a group of animals than that means water is somewhere nearby. If that doesn't work, there's also the plant life to consider. Though, that's assuming if there's any of that on this planet."
"Fine. But what if there isn't? What then?" Johns asked, bitterly.
"There are other ways to find or get water, but we haven't really explored the planet to find out what may or may not work. Besides, there's no point in dwelling on the 'what ifs' right now," I replied. "We've got other things to worry about too, like getting those respirators done."
"Okay, so while some of us work on those," Fry said slowly, "the rest of us will search. We need water, weapons, food, in that order. Each of us will go through our lockers and bring whatever supplies we find to Nav Bay. We'll meet there in exactly sixty tics."
Once the message reached everyone we started working and searching around. We pillaged the cargo containers, pulling out anything that might qualify as a weapon or could be useful. Imam found a spare pair of spectacles in his own locker and immediately put them on. I found my little container with the radiation suit neatly packed inside. I stopped paying attention to what else everyone found, but with arms fulls of things everyone hauled it back to the main cabin and dumped it onto the floor. Johns rushed away with his pistol out, once we've noticed that Riddick was gone.
While everyone was occupied, I checked over Owens to see how he was doing. He was sweating, but thankfully not shivering. His skin hasn't gained a healthy colored yet, still pale and clammy. But that's not surprising since he did lose a bit of blood. I used the back of my hand to see if his forehead or neck felt hotter than usual. It's a bit hard for me to tell since I run hotter than most, but it's not unbearably hot. So he hasn't gotten a fever yet. Then I checked his pulse, pleased to find that it was steady and had gotten stronger.
Next I carefully looked at his wound, and I'm relieved to see that it stopped bleeding. I grabbed the bag under the console, pulling out a clean rag and a bottle of alcohol. I soak the cloth and gently dabbed at the stitches. Owens hissed in pain as I clean around the wound and replace the bandages with clean ones when I was done.
His eyes fluttered open, glazed and unseeing at first. I grabbed the bottle of water from my bag and leaned over him. My movement caught his attention as I opened the bottle and his eyes focus on me. He tried to speak, but no words came out.
"Drink," I said, carefully lifting his head and bringing the bottle to his dry lips. His mouth opened and he drank several swallows before I pulled it away. "I'm Tasha. What's your name?"
"Owens. Greg Owens."
I nodded, relieved to see that he remembered his name. "Okay. Owens, how are you feeling?"
"It hurts," he whispered, voice hoarse from shouting.
"Take this. It'll help to lower your pain a bit," I said, popping out some pain pills and placing them into his mouth. I give him a bit of water to swallow with them and he does so when he got enough.
I was going to ask him if he also remembered what happened, but that may not be a good idea. I certainly don't want him to relapse into that state of incoherent panic from earlier. I'll have to be careful by being more specific in my questions.
"You saved us. Thank you," I said, giving him a smile. "But do you remember if you sent out a distress signal?"
He was silent, but his face expressed his struggled to remember the details.
"It's okay if you don't remember right now. I'm sure it'll all come back to you when you're feeling much better," I said, putting away the bottle of water and giving him a soft smile in reassurance.
"I...I think I did, but I'm not sure," he said, shifting uncomfortably because of the hard floor. He gasped in pain when the movement also pulled at his stitched wound.
"I know the floor isn't very comfortable, but please don't try to move too much," I said gathering some of the unused clothing and balling them up so that he could use it as a pillow. "Especially your arm."
"Why does it hurt so much?" he asked, breathing heavily from the pain.
"I'm sorry, but we don't have anything stronger. We've lost majority of the medical supplies in the crash and I all I have is basic pain reliever."
He sighed, breathing easier as the pain lower to tolerable levels.
"Do you know what planet we're on? Or what system this is?" I asked, seeing that he wasn't distracted by the pain anymore. Maybe knowing how close we are to our final destination might help to know if rescue will happen sooner than later.
He paused to think about it and his eyes brighten at remembering something. "Navigation said we were in the G system. I remember that because I was searching for a planet with breathable atmosphere in it."
"G System? That's interesting," I said, surprised at his answered, "Thank you. That was very helpful to know."
"Where am I?" he asked, his tired eyes not able to see much besides the ceiling and her.
"You're still in the Main Cabin, in the Nav Bay. I know you have many questions, but they can wait. It's important that you rest right now," I said, placing a hand lightly on his arm. "You're safe and you've got nothing to worry about besides getting enough sleep."
He opened his mouth to ask more questions, but he paused, most likely realizing how tired he was. I leaned back, giving him space as he closed his eyes. It didn't take him long to fall back to sleep, his breathing even and deep. I put away the rest of the things and moved away from the area he was in. I leaned against the wall, wondering why we're in the G System.
Why would the Hunter-Gratzner take the back-route? It isn't a shortcut at all. G System is remote and it's usually avoided in shipping lanes due to its strange and complex celestial dynamics that makes it difficult to traverse. Just what reason did the Captain have to jeopardize everyone's life by taking a risky route? The only ones that take it are those that are trying to hide something or don't want to be found. Though, another possibility is to cut down on traveling time, but that's not really worth such a risk.
But at this point, knowing why makes no difference now. We're stuck here, on this god forsaken desert planet with a criminal on the loose. What else could go wrong? No, I better not say or think like that. I could jinx it. I sighed, also knowing that this would make our rescue difficult. A big shipping company like Hunter-Gratzner always keep track of their ships. So of course, they will investigate once they see that their ship hasn't made its scheduled last stop.
They'll start by contacting all the ports to know what was the last known location anyone has seen of it and from there they calculate what other possible routes the ship could have taken. While they do so they look for any signs of ship debris, the transmitter or a distress signal, basically any evidence that could explain what happened to it. Even look at possible planets in the routes that it could've landed on. And they'll look into the crew and passengers list to see if any of them pop up somewhere. If they do, they'll be sending someone or contacting the local authorities in the area to detained them so that they can get answers.
I could have avoided all this if I had listened to my gut. But it was also warning me that I shouldn't continue to stay on my home planet either. So I went with the option that didn't make me feel as ill in dread as the other did. I just hope that they don't look too deeply into my information because they will discover that the real Natasha Brennan is dead. That will most likely prompt another investigation on my identity, especially if they think I have something to do with their missing ship. Or if I'm lucky, they may deem me unimportant or not a priority. I don't know...
"Are you okay?"
I turned, seeing Jack staring at me.
"Yeah, I'm just contemplating a few things," I said. "How are you holding up?"
He shrugged, shoving his hands into his pockets. "As well as anyone stuck in a hot planet with no water or food, I guess."
I pushed away from the wall, standing up straight and rolled my shoulder. I dusted off the dirt from my pants and ruffled Jack's hair when I got closer to him. "I know this sucks, but it's nothing that we can't overcome. It will take a lot of work to do, even when sometimes it feels easier to just give into the despair."
"Everyone keeps ignoring my questions."
"When you get older, you will realize that adults are not perfect, even if we try to act like it. We don't always know what to do or have all the answers to every question. Sometimes we do, but we might not be ready to admit it out loud because it would make it real."
I bent down, looking at him eye to eye. "Rescue will come, but it will take a while to get here. Until then we've got to work together to make the best of our situation. It won't be easy to do, but again life isn't easy either."
"So we're not going to die here?"
"No," I said, firmly.
"What about food and water?"
"We're still checking the ship's cargo for that. And we haven't even explored the planet yet. Sure, it's a desert planet, but that doesn't mean that there isn't any life on it. Usually when there's breathable air it also means that there's some sort of plant life or animals on it too. "
"Oh," Jack relaxed, looking a lot less anxious. "That makes senses. They can't exist without water or a food source too. So we just have to find them and we'll be okay too."
I stood up, smiling back at him. "Exactly."
"Thanks!"
"Any time," I said ruffling his hair again. "Everyone should be finishing up by now. Let's go see what they've found."