He Didn't Come

The three bodies, now drifting aimlessly in space, made Riddick feel much more comfortable about his present situation. The ship was now utterly devoid of life except for the solitary killer on board, which was just the way he preferred it. Alone with no other company except his own thoughts, he smiled as he surveyed the open space in front of him.

“Beautiful,” he breathed. The stretching expanse of darkness, interrupted only by the studding of stars and occasional, vague system off in the distance, filled the view port. There were no other ships in sight- he was utterly alone.

Unwillingly, he worried about Jack. She was stupid, stubborn, and hell-bent on getting her own way. He admired that, at least most of the time. This time, he knew that it would only get her into a world of hurt.

“Damn kid,” he growled, his internal debate visible in the tension with which he held himself. Should he go back for her? For what purpose? He’d already established that she would be nothing but a burden to him. He knew that she saw it, too. If this new ‘dead Riddick’ ploy didn’t take off, he was fucked. He didn’t want her caught in the crossfire. She was his to protect, and the best way he knew to fulfill that duty was to stay far, far away from her.

He slammed his fist down on the console in growing frustration. Why, after years of seeing that he came out on top of the scrap heap, did he have to go and get an attack of conscience?

Because she actually cared about him. She had to be a tough bitch on that ship and impress him, and now he had a fucking emotional attachment. He wasn’t sure there was any possible way to reverse that fateful turn of events, nor was he sure that he wanted to. When Jack had looked at him so fearfully when he discovered her secret, yet with bravery flickering at the edges of her face and voice, all he wanted to do was undo whatever it was that made her feel the need to be so defensive. He hadn’t been ready for it. She made him feel things he’d never felt for anyone. Ever.

He pushed his palms to his eyes, willing away the headache that threatened. He always got those migraines, if that was what they were, when he allowed himself to acknowledge the intense stress he lived under. Riddick hated himself for these perceived moments of weakness, but now he experienced a new kind of infirmity.

Guilt.

Guilt for the pain and betrayal in her eyes as he said what felt like his first heartfelt goodbye. He felt guilt for running away from the only person he had ever cared for. That’s what he was doing; running from his emotions, because though he could break out of his restraints, kill ‘rats (or mercs, or cops, or civilians), hack coded locks, and engineer escapes, these new feelings that chased each other into a whirling chaos of confusion absolutely fucking terrified him.

He was, in essence, running from a thirteen-year-old girl. Oh, the irony.

~*~

Standing behind him, holding the shiv Riddick gave her against Herman’s quivering adam’s apple, Jack instructed him in a tense voice to turn off the communications mechanism of the navcomm. He did what she requested with shaking hands.

“Russell,” she called. When he didn’t reply, she said more harshly, “Russell!” He fixed her with baleful eyes as he swallowed a burp.

“Russell,” she continued when he finally ambled over to her. He grunted a question in her general direction. “I need you to sit in the copilot’s seat and tell our friend Herman here the navigation number of your old ship.”

Russell didn’t bother to mask the next burp that erupted from his gut. Must be a guy thing, Jack thought.

“The ship’s name is the Ruthless Roger.”

She tried miserably to muffle the snort of laughter that attempted to force its way out through her nose. That was the stupidest name she’d ever heard for any ship in her life. It was nothing short of embarrassing.

Russell continued, oblivious to her discomfort, “The serial code is 0215563. It shouldn’t be too far away.”

Jack could sense Herman’s terror as he punched in the required information. Was this what it felt to have someone’s life in your hands? The sickening, yet tantalizing taste of power as you made someone else do your bidding? Was this what people like the ‘rats felt when they took over a ship? Was this what Riddick felt, when he was about to ghost someone? Jack couldn’t decide if she was elated or freaked out of her mind.

The computer thought for a moment before saying in an ambiguously monotone voice, “Target acquired. Attempt to chart course to ship number 0215563?”

“Yes,” Russell said immediately.

Herman punched a few more keys, and Jack made certain that the shiv barely grazed his skin.

“Don’t you dare screw us over, or you’re gone,” she said through gritted teeth in what she hoped was a menacing voice. Herman nodded.

“Good,” she said coldly. “Is the course plotted?” He nodded again. “Good boy,” she said in a low voice.

Was she really doing this? Was she, Jack, actually holding a shiv to a man’s throat, and threatening to use it if he didn’t comply with what she ordered him to do? Yes, she was. Would she use it? She was still uncertain. But what was sure was that within forty-eight hours, if all went well, she’d have the means to find Riddick and tell him exactly what she thought of him.

What, that she idolized him and wanted to be just like him? Not a chance in any man’s hell. No, she’d demand that he take her with him. If she managed to find him, wouldn’t he see that she’d be able to pull her own weight? That she might actually be able to help him?
That is, if she managed to find him.

~*~

Riddick jumped from his doze as one of the indicators on the console began to squeal an alarm. There was a small transport vessel locked onto his stolen ship, and the computer readouts didn’t bode well for an attempt to evade it.

“Shit!” he growled. He hadn’t even left the planet two days ago and there was someone on his ass already. Who? How?

He groaned. It had to be one of three possibilities. Either Imam had sold him out to the cops, or the third merc from this ship was still alive, and was coming after his crewmates. Or, a different person entirely was on her way.

Jack. It had to be. How, he had no idea, but he knew that, somehow, it was her. Fucking kid! From what he could tell, she didn’t know shit from chocolate when it came to ships, so how the hell had she managed to snag a transport vessel?

It didn’t really matter. If this was her, he had to know for sure. He didn’t want to split if it was, because he knew she’d try to follow him. The thought of her lost in a tiny vessel in free space… well, he didn’t want to think about that. He’d let her catch him, and then he’d find some way to get her ass back to Imam. Damn stupid kid!

Still, he had to admit that her courage and willfulness was impressive. But this was just idiotic! How could she possible get the gall to follow him?

But, on the other hand, if it wasn’t her, he had to get his escaped-convict ass the hell away from whoever it was.

He flipped the comm unit on and imitated Curry’s voice as best he could, which happened to be quite well. “This is Curry. Please identify yourself and your intentions.”

He waited for the nameless ship to respond, but the comm unit remained silent. It was as though his radio waves were being swallowed in space. He knew that it was impossible, though, and yet there was no indication that there was even another ship anywhere near him.

He tried again. “Repeating, this is Curry of the.…” Oh, shit, what's this beast’s name? Shit, shit!

He coughed into the speaker, hoping it would sufficiently cover his lapse. “Please state your intentions. Identify yourself.”

Absolutely dead radio silence was his only response. Riddick tried to puzzle out what this meant. Either their comm unit was busted, or it had been otherwise disabled. He knew it wasn’t his, because there were sensors that would have indicated that kind of thing. Clever move, whoever it was. He swore again. How the hell was he supposed to find out if it was Jack or not if he couldn’t communicate with the other ship?

Okay. Time to look at the situation logically. Riddick had saved the religious freak’s life. Imam, being so holy, probably had a very strong sense of honor, so it was extremely unlikely that he had notified any of the authorities. He knew that Imam wouldn’t have let Jack anywhere near a port, where it might be possible to look for him. Of course, he also knew that that wouldn’t have deterred her in the slightest. The chances were very good that she was trying to find him. However, how would she know that he was aboard this particular ship?

That left the merc. He obviously was an idiot; to let those other mercs backstab him the way they did was a sure sign of a fool. If they were able to do that, he probably deserved to die. Not that the merc didn’t deserve it already.

Okay. So it was a merc, and a stupid one at that. He wasn’t after Riddick, so it would stand to reason that he came grossly unprepared. Now that Riddick was fairly certain that he knew who his pursuer was, he felt a lot better. After confirming the ETA of the other ship if he stayed on his present course and speed, he checked the cache of chains, restraints, weapons, and other toys. There was a full gun rack, stunners, triple-alloy chains—these agents may have been a bunch of jokes, but they were well-prepared jokes.

Satisfied, he settled back in the pilot’s seat to resume his nap. In two days, give or take a few hours, his pursuer wouldn’t be a concern of his and he could get on with his new life.