He Didn't Come

Herman hadn’t said a word, hoping blindly that if he didn’t draw attention to himself, they would let him go. He cursed himself again and again for being the friendly, honest salesman. It was so much safer to just be an asshole. He wouldn’t have become a victim if he had been a jerk.

When the merc had pushed Herman ahead of him onto the other ship, he’d expected to die right there. He hadn’t, luckily enough; instead there had been no one there at all. Or so it seemed, anyway. The familiar way the girl had said the stranger’s name has surprised Herman. The frightened way the merc repeated it chilled Herman to the very marrow of his bones.

He was just a farmer from one of the many colonies, there to handle his little sister’s business affairs while she was on her honeymoon. He’d never even heard of Riddick before, but he’d gathered that he was a very dangerous man. The way he killed the dying merc with such ease made Herman begin thinking about what the big man could do to him. He didn’t like any of the possibilities that cheerfully danced through his mind.

His terror increased by nearly double when Riddick literally placed Herman’s life in the girl’s hands. She looked at him quietly.

“If we let you go, what would you do?”

Herman was perplexed. What did she mean, what would he do? “I don’t understand,” he said, trying to remain inoffensive.

Jack rolled her eyes and snapped, “It’s not like it’s a hard question. If we let you go, would you rat us out?”

Herman shook his head. “I wouldn’t, I swear.”

The girl glared. “How do I know I can trust you?”

He didn’t have a response for that. He was a gentle man by nature. He didn’t want to hurt anyone; he just wanted to get back to his farm and pretend that none of this had ever happened.

The girl stood up and began pacing, seeming distracted. It was an odd action for a teenager, and it would have seemed more in place if she were thirty years old rather than just thirteen. Herman then glanced at the killer, who was watching the girl with a serious expression. When the killer looked his way, he hastily averted his eyes and stared at the floor.

Finally the girl slumped down on a seat. “Let him go.”

Relief washed over Herman’s body and mind. He released a breath that he hadn’t known he was holding and, unexpectedly, began to shake. The closeness of his impending death hit home only after it had passed him by.

Riddick looked at Jack. “You’re sure?”

She nodded, avoiding Herman’s gaze. “Yeah.”

“Positive.”

“Yes, Riddick, okay? I don’t want to talk about it!” Like a petulant child, she turned away from them both, tucked her legs up under her chin, and stared at the plain metallic wall.

Riddick sighed, shrugging, before unfastening Herman’s restraints. His arms had fallen asleep a long while beforehand, and it felt good to get the blood flowing again.

Riddick beckoned to Herman to follow him into the cockpit. Herman got up and did so, somewhat puzzled.

Riddick gestured silently for him to sit. Frowning slightly, he did so. He was still scared. Maybe the killer would take this opportunity to kill him anyway, despite what the girl said. If this wasn’t the case, however, the last thing Herman wanted to do was provoke him.

Riddick looked at him, still silent, for a few moments. Those few moments, in which Herman felt as though his life were revolving between them, seemed to stretch infinitely. Finally Riddick spoke.

“Thank you,” he said gruffly.

Of all the things Herman had been expecting, gratitude wasn’t anywhere on his list. “For what?” He was genuinely surprised.

“For not hurting her.” Seeing Herman’s confusion, he elaborated, “You’re probably almost as strong as I am. It wouldn’t have taken much effort to kill her as soon as she pulled that shiv.”

He obviously seemed to think that was enough explanation, but Herman wasn’t satisfied. “Please, go on.”

Riddick rubbed a hand over his face and sighed, a small explosion of air rushing out. The force of that simple nonchalant action drove home to Herman just what kind of a man he was dealing with. Herman was a big man, and this Riddick character could break him in half easily.

“Look,” Herman said, “I wasn’t scared of her. I figured that if she was this desperate, than it was worthwhile, whatever it was. I just let her do what she thought she needed to do. The guy that scared me was the merc.”

Riddick didn’t speak. The silence subtly grew, and Herman looked at the man, seeking any detail which might clue him in on what the killer was thinking. It didn’t appear that he was angry or that this was a calculated silence, designed to set Herman on edge for some reason. It just was. He realized that there wasn’t that much more to say.

“So, what are you two going to do?” Herman asked, not without some caution. He wasn’t sure he wanted a reply.

Riddick turned and looked out at Jack. She had turned back from the wall and was gazing about with evident interest. She swung her legs down and stood up, going over to examine the airlock.

“I’m not sure what I’m going to do with her,” Riddick began, with his voice flat and even. “If she has the balls to pull a stunt like this, what would she do if I dropped her back in New Mecca?” Herman couldn’t think of an answer, but it didn’t matter. Soon Riddick saved him the trouble. “She’d pull the same shit again. I just know it. Fuck.” He turned to look at her again. “I have to keep her with me.”

Herman thought that, according to the tone of the convict’s voice, it wouldn’t be that bad. Riddick obviously cared about the girl, and she definitely cared about him.

“Well, apparently she figured that you were worth going to the trouble of stealing a ship and kidnapping me. I think it’s pretty plain that you mean a lot to her.”

Riddick nodded. “I know. I thought it would be better for her to stay away from me. I’m a dangerous man and I live a dangerous life.” He shrugged. “I don’t think I have much choice.” He looked down at the floor briefly, and Herman thought he saw a shadow of indecision in Riddick. It was gone almost immediately, and he lifted his head to look at Herman. “I think we’ll take your ship. You can keep this one.”

Herman’s face fell. He should have known that he was going to lose something in this mess. “Why do you want my ship?”

Riddick grinned with a hint of menacing amusement. “It’s more comfortable. Besides, if we let you go, like I said, you can pin three more murders on my head now. This way, you get to explain why you have a ship with millions of creds worth of stolen and black-market assault weapons. It will completely destroy your credibility, so even if you do narc, no one will believe you. They’ll just think you’re covering your own ass.” He stood and stretched. “Relax. You can go back to your farm and forget this ever happened after you get away from the cops.”

He walked out of the cockpit, leaving Herman stare at the structure of his life as it sifted through his fingers in tiny shreds. “How did this happen?” he murmured. Well, Riddick was a murderer. Herman was probably naive to think that he would keep his whole life intact. As soon as he had seen that smile on Riddick’s face, he knew that he was going to get screwed. How was he going to explain this to the port officials in New Mecca?

Herman saw Jack walking toward him out of the corner of his eye, and he turned to face her. “Yeah?”

She didn’t look happy. She glowered at everything: the floor, the walls, the pilot seat in which he was sitting, and finally at Herman himself. “Don’t make me regret letting you live.”

Herman did his best not to burst out laughing. He wasn’t stupid. He knew that she was only posturing now. This was just a farce, an act she was putting on for the murderer. He looked over his shoulder and saw Riddick tilt his head in a way that, beneath his goggles, he was rolling his eyes. That only confirmed his suspicion, and it was all he could do to prevent the corner of his mouth from twitching hysterically with repressed laughter.

Striving for sincerity, he promised, “I won’t.”

Keeping her face grave, she nodded and turned her back on him. “So, can we go now?” she asked Riddick.

He knew it was as close to a goodbye as he was going to get from her. She was thirteen. He remembered when his little sister was thirteen. She had so much pride, she would argue about whether or not the grass was green, and never admit she was wrong. Riddick surprised him, however.

“So long, farmer-boy. Stay away from crazy teenagers from now on.”

Jack made some indignant response—Herman wasn’t paying much attention to her—and she left the ship. He recognized the sound of Riddick’s heavy gait exiting right behind her, and the airlock hissed as it was disconnected a moment later and sealed by the computer. He was finally left alone.

“Remind me never to leave the farm again,” he muttered to nobody in particular as he plotted the course back to New Mecca.