Author's Note: I've never imagined that I would get into the Riddick fandom, but after reading some excellent stories, they've inspired a lot of ideas. However, delving into the franchise has required quite a bit of research, and what I've found is that some information contradicts each other.
For instance, in the movies, there's an eclipse every 22 years, while the novelization has it occurring every 60 years. I think the latter makes more sense, especially for why no one has noticed the bioraptors, and for the walking whales (those giant skeletons) to exist, there needs to be enough time for life to emerge or evolve. Of course, I know realistically that's still not enough time, but I could always change it later on. Or I'll come up with something else to explain their existence on the planet, such as that it was humans who introduced these new creatures to the planet for colonization or ecological purposes. Maybe, in the end, all this background information will be completely unnecessary. After all, writers only need to include details that are directly relevant to the development of the story.
Anyway, please keep in mind that this is unbeta'd. I've done my best to correct my own mistakes, but I know I've most likely missed some things (like not realizing I've switched verb tenses). My main focus right now is getting this story completed. Once that's done, I'll circle back to give it proper editing and revising, if needed.
Disclaimer: I do not own the Riddick franchise—Pitch Black, The Chronicles of Riddick and so on. All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners. That being said, the original characters and non-canonical plot featured in this fanfiction are entirely my own creation. This work is crafted purely for entertainment purposes and without any intention of financial gain.
Chapter 1: Don't Lose Control
Cryosleep, cryostatis, suspended animation, or whatever else you want to call it, is a very necessary yet annoying aspect of space travel—one that I absolutely hate with every fiber of my being. Most travelers, however, regard it as a minor inconvenience and a small price to pay in order to make a long trip seem short. Its main purpose, of course, is to reduce the consumption of vital resources like food, water, and air aboard the ship. With both crew and passengers in cryosleep, the concern of running out of supplies in some remote system in a dead quadrant of space becomes a distant worry.
Unfortunately, the vessel I find myself aboard is far from luxurious. However, that's inconsequential because the Hunter-Gratzner is the only affordable option at the station that's going to where I want to go. It's a long-range transport, combining features of both a merchant vessel and a freighter, and unsurprisingly, it's owned by Hunter-Gratzner Industries Inc.
The ship's destination is the Tangier System, which, if I remember correctly, contains three habitable planets. Tangier 3 is a predominantly Muslim planet, while Tangier 5 serves as a pilgrimage site for those on Hajj. As for Tangier 6, I can't recall much about it except for the large shipyard. There's also the Tangiers Penal Colony, a prison, which is likely where the Marshal and his prisoner are headed.
Speaking of which, those two certainly stand out amidst the other passengers, who are mostly nomadic settlers relocating to other planets. Among them is a small group of Chrislams returning from a pilgrimage to Tangier 5 and possibly heading home to Tangier 3. Though I suspect a few of them will be going to New Mecca on Helion Prime as well.
There's about forty people in here. Maybe more, maybe less, but I didn't bother to do an exact count. My main focus is to be one of the first ones in line to board the ship. It's a case of 'first come, first pick,' and I want to pick out my cryopod. Usually I like to stay in the back, away from prying eyes, but this time, a nagging, unpleasant feeling tells me I should stick close to the cockpit. Over time, I've learned to rely on my sixth sense, or as some call it, my intuition. I still find it strange how I manage to avoid and survive plenty of dangerous situations with what seems like sheer dumb luck.
Before any of the passengers are allowed to board the ship, the Marshal is granted permission to enter first. I position myself near the entrance, close enough to observe him without drawing attention. With efficiency born of practiced precision, he wastes no time in placing his prisoner into cryosleep, as if the arrangement had been made long before our arrival. Only one cryopod bears warning labels about no early release, and it's no surprise that the prisoner ends up in it. As for the Marshal himself, he decides on a cryopod near the cockpit as well, a strategic choice that hints at his calculated nature.
Like I said before, both of them stand out from the crowd, but it's the prisoner who commands attention. My eyes are inexorably drawn towards him, and it's not merely because he's easy on the eyes. There's a magnetic quality to him, an aura of raw power and danger that even the restraints fail to diminish. His presence is so palpable that it makes it impossible to ignore. There's an enigmatic allure to him that tugs at my curiosity. Just who is he?
He's tanned, wearing black cargo pants and a black A-shirt. Despite standing slightly shorter than most of the men on the ship, his muscular form and broad shoulders make up for it. Yet, what truly catches my eye are the precautions taken to secure him: a blindfold wrapped tightly around his head, a horse bit clenched between his teeth, and shackles encasing his wrists. These extensive measures seem a bit overkill – is he not a run-of-the-mill criminal?
The more I contemplate this, the more suspicious it seems. If he poses such a threat, wouldn't there be more guards accompanying him? Hell, why even risk the safety of civilians by transporting him with us if that's the case? Unless the purpose of the extra restraints is to make up for the fact that there's only one guy handling him?These unanswered questions leave me with a gnawing sense of unease, a feeling that there's more to this situation than meets the eye.
On that note, there's something about the Marshal that bothers me as well. Whenever I look at him, an unsettling sensation prickles at the back of my mind—a warning sign from my intuition. He's blonde, with piercing blue eyes, and has a southern drawl from what I overheard earlier. He's clad in a long white shirt; over it is a black vest with a badge pinned to it, a gun on his belt, and black pants. He embodies the archetype of a 'pretty boy'—the kind who seemingly can do no wrong.
With my luck, his pretty face probably doesn't match the inside. Given his role as a lawman, it's not uncommon for individuals like him to exploit their authority. They are the ones who often escape the consequences of their actions, either because of their privilege, connections, or manipulation tactics. And if they do face justice, it's rarely commensurate with the gravity of their offenses.
It's strange that I'm getting bad vibes from him. I'd expected my intuition to be set off more strongly by the criminal, not the lawman. Yet, it seems he poses a threat too. There's a sense that something is festering beneath the surface, which only adds weight to my suspicions about him. Nevertheless, I'll have to keep an eye on him, and keep any interactions with him brief. It's difficult, especially since I've chosen a spot near him. It doesn't help that he also keeps staring at me lecherously whenever he thinks I'm not looking.
I found my cryopod, but everyone else was still picking out theirs. Thankfully, we're allowed to have one small carry-on bag with us at no extra charge. Most people don't take advantage of that because of how tiny the storage underneath the pod is. It only has enough room for items that don't take up a lot of space, like medication, documents, toiletries, and small electronics. Everything else gets crammed into the cargo section. I like to travel light, but at the same time, it's not like I have much choice on that matter considering my situation. Unfortunately, as I bent down to cram my bag into the bottom of the pod, that's when the Marshal decided to introduce himself.
"Do you need a hand?" he asked, standing behind me, and as an afterthought, he leaned over slightly to see what I was doing. I'm not stupid. I know the delay was because he was checking out my ass.
"No, thanks. I'm good," I answered, rolling my eyes and slamming the compartment shut. I stood up straight, giving him a pointed look for standing too close to me.
He backed up a little, leaning against an empty pod with his arms crossed. "William J. Johns. You?"
"Natasha," I said, trying to squelch the irritated expression on my face.
He waited for a few seconds to see if I would continue. When I didn't, he quipped, "Just Natasha?"
"Tasha works too. Or Nat, but I prefer Tasha more."
"Then I'm just Johns," he smirked in amusement, "so where are you headed to?"
"Tangier 3," I said, shrugging. It's not like it's a secret that I and the majority of the passengers are heading that way. I would rather not tell him my real destination is Helion Prime. That's just asking for trouble, and I don't need to gain a stalker. As much as I would like to ignore his poor attempt at small talk, it's best that I stay as civil as possible. I don't want to encourage him, but I also don't need to make any enemies either, especially one with a badge.
"What about you?" I asked, moving over to make enough room for a passenger to walk by.
"Business first," he said, titling his head to the criminal's cryopod. His eyes darkened with indiscernible emotion in thought before he continued, "and if it all goes well, how about you and I celebrate?"
"That is, if I'm still around by the time you're done," I hummed, raising an eyebrow in amusement.
"Ladies and gentlemen, this is Greg Owens, your navigator. On behalf of Captain Tom Mitchell and the entire crew, welcome aboard the Hunter-Gratzner. If you haven't already done so, please stow your luggage in the cargo bay and any carry-on underneath the slot of your cryopod. Please take your seat, strap in, and prepare to sleep. If you have any questions or require assistance, my crew members will be making a final round to ensure everyone is secure, and set in their pods for cryosleep."
"Well, see you at the end of the flight," I said, opening my pod and getting inside it. He nodded, heading to his and started strapping himself in.
I wasn't as quick about it as he was. I took my time putting on the straps that kept a person secured in the cryopod during bumpy flights. I watched as the other passengers did the same, and the crew members looked over each pod to see if there were any issues. The speakers crackled a few times before a second announcement was made.
"Our flight time will be 175 days until we reach our first stop. At this time, all passengers should already be in their pods. Please double-check that you're correctly fastened in. Oh, and don't forget to power off and stow away any portable electronic devices in storage. Thank you."
I hate cryosleep, and most people might ask me why I'm so hanged up on it. It's not just the fact that it makes me vulnerable in the middle of space. It's mostly because it doesn't work that well on me. I'm not normal. I've heard that there are those who are more in touch with their primitive side and, because of that, are still aware when they go to sleep. But for me, it's not like that. It took me a few years to master control of what I could do, but even then, it was not always enough. The drugs they pump into a person's body when it's time to go to sleep makes my control weak.
The main problem is that there isn't an off switch for me. I'm essentially a renewable energy source, like the sun. I don't understand where all this power came from. It wasn't always like this, but nothing has ever been right since I died. Or maybe there was always something wrong with me, and I didn't realize it until that explosion happened. Either way, that's another nightmare of a story that I don't want to get into right now. But it ends with me waking up in the morgue with the medical examiner about to cut me open. The old guy was scared so bad that he died right there, clutching his chest.
As far as anyone is concerned, Anastasia "Tazia" Valerio is gone. She was cremated, and her ashes were scattered on Agrius. After all, it's hard to explain how the hell I'm alive after what happened to me. And I would rather deal with the difficulty of living a life without legit documentation than becoming someone's science project. And now, I'm Natasha "Tasha" Brennan. It's a normal enough name. I like it for the nickname because it's similar to my original one. It's easier for me to remember. If I went with anything else, it'd be obvious that I'm not who I say I am. I know that I'm a terrible liar, and the best I can do is tell half-truths. But I would rather avoid situations that require me to talk to people altogether. I'm less likely to draw attention that way. And if it can't be avoided, then I stick close to a story that can explain my knowledge and skills if they come into question.
I'm still annoyed that this had to happen to me. I poured my blood, sweat, and tears into getting to where I was. I sacrifice my social life for it, spending nearly every night either studying, working on coursework, or building my own projects. Not a day went by that I wasn't living off of caffeine to function. It was only when I graduated and got my dream job that everything felt worth it.
I was three years into my career, establishing myself as a very bright young woman making contributions to the engineering world. It was only a week after I had received a prestigious award of recognition, and another for my newest invention, that it all went to shit.
I'm snapped out of my musing when I hear another announcement. "Crew, all passengers should be in cryosleep. Cross-check, report, and return to your stations once you're done."
I stop delaying and actually begin the cryo process. I pushed the button to close the glass door on the pod. It locks, and the injections start. I winced as I received the first injection from the machine. The liquid contains all the essential elements, such as cryoprotectants, for a human body to function without suffering any damage from the state of being frozen. The monitor on the pod scans me, turning green when my body accepts the shot without any problems. It starts the next and final set, which is the anesthesia that puts you to sleep. After that, the temperature drops to the point where you're frozen.
I close my eyes, feeling the drowsiness set in. I'm not completely asleep because I can still sense my surroundings even though I'm disconnected from my body. Now that I think of it, the closest way I can describe this is sleep paralysis. Thankfully, there's no crushing weight or feeling like you're being suffocated by invisible hands. It's one less thing for me to worry about.
There's movement outside my cryopod, or at least I think there is. No, it's not movement that I feel; it's body heat. Possibly from one of the crew members walking down the aisle and checking my cryopod. I can sense other sources of heat too, but they're weak and further away.
I just hope that I don't lose control. It's a long trip, and I don't know if I will be able to handle staying in this state for months. A few weeks I can do, a month or two possibly, but years? Just no. I'm freaking myself out at the thought of years. Some trips do take that long, but this one is about five months. Five months is not that bad. I can do it. The more expensive ships would be faster, making the time shorter, but again, I can't afford that.
I can feel myself regaining more awareness. As a result, my body is heating up, wanting to fight off the state I'm currently in. My eyes and hands twitch despite the numbness and the frost coating them. I can't lose control. I need to stop thinking about it. Focus on something else, something that can keep my mind busy for a while.
It's quiet and dark. I'm on a ship and in a cryopod. It's probably made of aluminum and aluminum composite materials, the same things that nearly all spaceships are made of. Aluminum is light but also very sturdy. Using titanium alloys can also strengthen the body of the ship. There's thermal protection tile too. That helps ships survive the heat of leaving the planet's atmosphere and re-entry. What else?
Spaceship windows are composed of three panes, each of which is made of high-temperature quartz glass that can withstand heating and cooling without cracking. Cryopods contain two panes of a hybrid of two strong types of glass. One of which is capable of withstanding the freezing temperature of cryo, and the other is harder and more durable than common glass.
It won't be so easy to break if something were to smack into it with a lot of force. That's a good thing in case the ship's gravity system malfunctions or is disabled. Whatever isn't bolted down won't pose much of a problem for those inside the cryopods. However, the glass would not stand a chance against me if I needed to get out. I can probably melt it or blast the door off if I can get enough room to kick it. It's unlikely that I would ever need to do that, but the option is always there, especially if the emergency release were to stop working.
For a moment, I get distracted by the enormous amount of heat at the back of the ship. I could feel the energy building up in the engines in order to blast off into space. I can also feel the body heat of the ship's crew in the cockpit. It doesn't take long for the ship to reach maximum power to lift off. The sheer force of the blasts from the rockets has the crew pressing into their seats. There's a lot of turbulence as the ship rips through the planet's atmosphere. The ship heats up, but the heat shields do their job of enduring the heat from the force.
Soon enough, the pressure eases as the ship reaches the vacuum of space. One of the crew members takes control, maneuvering the ship with the help of the rocket propulsion in the right direction. The ship continues to travel, going farther away from the planet, the sun, and its moons. The autopilot must have taken over because the crew members unstrapped themselves from their seats. Each one goes over to their own cryopod and starts securing themselves in it. The last one takes the longest. They are most likely monitoring the others to make sure that they go to cryosleep successfully before undergoing it themselves.
All that's left is the constant heat of the engines, power cells, and rockets as they continue to power the ship to its destination. I'm once again left alone with my thoughts. Hopefully, at some point, my mind will get tired enough that I'll fall into a dreamless slumber. I could have increased the dosage of the anesthesia shot, but that's not really recommended. But considering that I'm not normal anymore, I'm not even sure that would have worked anyway. It's barely working now, and that's only because I'm suppressing the energy inside me.
Medicine doesn't have much effect on me, and that's not a good thing if I were ever to get seriously hurt. Can I even be injured? Or even die? It would be good to know my limitations, but I'm not going to be that idiot who cuts themselves or jumps from a building just to find out. For all I know, coming back from the dead could have been a one-time thing.
At least I know I'm durable because I haven't bruised or broken anything yet. It took a lot of experimenting to figure out what I could do. I lost count of how many times I've flung myself towards the rocky walls, trying to master control over my power. Once I got a better understanding of it, I utilized my knowledge to help me further. I built a wristband that monitor my energy levels and the radiation that leaked from me. The radiation concerned me at first, but after a bit of testing, I realized it had no effect on me. But I couldn't say the same about my surroundings.
No matter what I did, I was constantly emitting radiation, but as long as I was suppressing the bulk of my energy, it was harmless to those around me. However, if I started to lose control or kept using my power, the radiation would build up to hazardous levels. I discovered that when I let go of my control just to see what would happen. Plant life decayed rapidly, turning to ash beneath my feet, and the nearby animals got sick if they were within the non-lethal range. Those closest to me suffered the worst before they died.
I couldn't risk being around people until I came up with a contingency plan for when I lose control. Not if, but when. As much as I like to think I've got good control, I wouldn't be able to live with myself if I accidentally hurt someone. I hope that it will never happen, but there's always a possibility that something could occur.
I could lose control during my sleep because of a nightmare. I could also get so stressed out, furious, or in a lot of pain that it might trigger a meltdown. Whatever the reason, I needed to build something that could handle me in that state. So, I thought of a portable radiation shield to place myself in. The problem was that such a thing was nearly unheard of. No one has managed to make it into a compact device, but that didn't stop me from trying.
At first, I was focused on building the radiation shield, but it kept short-circuiting every time I tested it. I eventually got it to work, but it could only handle my radiation at a certain level. It wasn't strong enough. Even using myself as the energy source to power the device resulted in it frying. It couldn't handle both my radiation and the energy in me. I needed something that could absorb most of my energy without overloading it to be the power source. A rechargeable power cell could work, despite its bulkiness. But that alone wasn't enough.
Then, I thought about a radiation suit. The problem with that, however, was that they don't ensure complete protection from all radiation. When exposed to radiation, particles end up in your clothes, on your skin, and even in your lungs after you breathe them in. With enough exposure time or radioactive levels, a person could still fall ill from radiation sickness.
Besides, I wasn't trying to protect myself from external radiation. Instead, I wanted to keep it contained within me. That was why I didn't bother wearing one because I knew it wouldn't work. At least, not with the usual material those radiation suits are built with. I needed something stronger, and that's why I'm headed to Helion Prime. It's the perfect location in the system that offers many opportunities and access to materials. I can definitely get what I need there.
I started building my special tactical radiation armor with shielding when I was still on my home planet. I called the project STRAWS because it's easier to keep track of my notes with a label on them. It's a work-in-progress, and it will take a while to finish, but it's the only thing I can think of that has a high possibility of being successful. I couldn't transport it with me, so I had it shipped off ahead of me.
In the meantime, I have to be very careful. I don't have my wristband on to warn me when I start to lose control. I try not to rely on it too much because I can't always wear it. It's not waterproof, so I have to take it off when I have to bathe or when I'm around water. I also can't wear it in a cryopod because it's unsafe. It's currently stored away underneath the pod, along with some radiation tablets, in case people start getting sick around me. I even have a basic radiation suit, but that's somewhere in the cargo with the rest of my clothes.
I won't have to worry so much once my special suit is built. The only issue I can expect to pop up is what other people will think of me. I had planned to wear it all the time, but that would've been strange and highly concerning. I guess I can always design it in a way that doesn't attract attention. That will be difficult to do because it will need armor plating, and that's going to be pretty thick and heavy. It has to be in order to prevent the worst of my radiation from leaking out, especially the kind that ends in death.
Unless I make the suit in two parts, the first part will be the underlayer, and it'll probably be a form-fitting suit made from non-metallic protective materials. It'll have to be flexible and light, which will make it easier to wear clothing over it. That layer alone can prevent people around me from getting sick if I lose control or build up to the first few levels of radiation. But once I go past that, I would need the second part, which will be the heavy-duty armor suit.
That would keep the strongest radiation exposure contained. I suppose if I were to go beyond that, the suit would be useless, melting into nothingness, and everything around me would turn into an inferno. The shielding would help to reinforce the armor suit and make it last a bit longer, but there's only so much it can take.
That total meltdown is something I can't do anything about. Once it happens, the damage will have already been done. That's why my next goal after the suit is built is to find someplace to settle down. A planet with a low population so that if something does happen, not many would die. I'll probably live in the wilderness alone, on the other side of the planet, so that the people will have more time and warning to escape.
It'll be a lonely existence, but I'll make the best of this second chance at life. After all, it could have been worse...
Soon enough, my musings and the constant heat of the engines lulled me into a state of sleep and wakefulness.