Match, point... game

Chapter nineteen:
Caged Birds

“Fuck, shit, damn it all to hell!” grasping onto the controls of her ship George whipped it around and opened fire, gritting her teeth sharply. The sharp glow of the pulsar rounds shooting off into the darkness of space nearly blinded her for a moment from within the darkened ship, the red head dipping her ship and causing the injured engines to groan in protest. Her eyes shot to an alarm sounding reading of her shields, showing they were at less than ten percent, meaning if she got hit one more time she would be almost defenseless and it would all depend on her piloting ability.

The enemy ship avoided her attack, its much smaller body contending with the raw power of her own vessel, dipping and charging towards her at alarming speeds for an only four engine skiff looking thing. Swearing again under her breath George slammed upwards and brought her craft into a nose dive, spinning as she went to decrease the chances of another wing hit while switching the main power from the broken engine four to the guns located at the ships head and along its spine. Her heartbeat was pounding in her head, throbbing and agonizing, while her body was prickling with adrenaline. The rush of a space battle had always been something disturbing to her but then again it was just another merc. A merc that didn’t know just who he was fucking with…

A jarring rattle nearly knocked the woman from her seat and a small console next to her let out a cry before a large electric spark surged from it, busting open its casing and threatening to start a small fire. Grunting the woman finished her diversion, shots of the enemy going by the tempered glass of her cockpit sights, before pulling out and shooting upwards, thanking her stars that she wasn’t in atmosphere combat. Spinning her ship around on its tail, nearly losing control for the lack of her fourth engine, she shouted and opened full fire on the oncoming enemy, her eyes narrowed. The plasma and bullet rounds tore through the inky darkness around her, the only light coming from the nearest system, the system she was on her way to, Iapetus.

The plasma shells smacked against the shield and ate through, leaving gaping wounds in the glowing murkiness while the ammunition rounds merely bounced off and out into the depths of space to hit some unknowing passerby. She almost felt guilty, but she didn’t have time to think on that before she had to hold onto the controls for dear life when the merc ship opened fire on her as well, lowering its shields and letting loose a barrage that smashed into her remaining defenses and tore through the farthest left wing of her dying vessel. Alarms sounded off, red lights flashed in front of her eyes, and Georgina Collins knew that without a doubt she had clearly lost this fight. Gritting her teeth she rolled her chair back and pulled down the main cannon control, swearing inwardly that she was now converting all remaining power into the massive gun.

Metal and gears clinking together as the head of the ship opened up under her, unleashing the behemoth of a weapon she smirked to herself. Not even a high grade ether shield would hold up to a direct assault from a Grade S Hydrogen Pulsar beam with plasma fuel cells and penetrating round. If she was going down she would take a good chunk of them with her. Oxygen tubes from the auxiliary life support snapped above her, letting out hissing noises in her ears while smoke from the injured wing drifted in through the vents. Sweat ran down George’s face while flashes of her homeland, of her brother, of everything that had lead up to this point… Energy crackling around the main cannon and the familiar heightening hum like that of a powerful storm filled the haul while screws shook within their holding and the air crackled with the building excitement.

“Screw you,” she whispered while flicking the final switch above her. Punching in the button to her right she watched in satisfaction as the beam of pure, red hot heat with blue bolts of pure power streaming from it, ripped into the void of space and barreled towards her followers and would be captors.

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She really should stop waking up like this… Her lips parted and let out a slow and steady breath, a pain racking down her side through what felt like two cracked ribs. How did she keep getting into situations such as this? Maybe she should consider a career change. George’s eyes fluttered open and then instantly regretted it when the low lights of a foreign haul assaulted her eyes, causing the now screaming in her head to heighten to unbearable levels.

She tried to move her arms and found them resisting, harshly, and the familiar feel of cool metal round her wrists caught her attention. Shifting around the hard surface of a ships haul was pressed against her back; sweet home… George shifted her eyes from looking down at her bound shackles in distaste to the area around her, wincing when even her eyes felt bruised. Would there ever be a time when she was completely healed up without having to worry about getting hurt again? Probably not, she thought with a grumble. The mercs had boarded her ship after she had fired that round at them, taking out their two right wings and sending the attack barreling through the cosmos to hit some unsuspecting planet or ship and either decimate it or severally rattle it. Either way it looked like they had scrounged parts from her ship and had repaired their vessel for she felt the familiar hum of a moving space ship against her spine.

George winced when her side growled out and wondered how long she had been out. She didn’t even remember becoming unconscious… What the fuck had happened? All that she remembered was them boarding and her opening fire on the fuckers to get them off of her ship, hitting one in the chest, two in the legs, and then… Glancing towards her shoulder she gritted her teeth when she spotted the tell tale signs of being shot, namely a massive blood pool in her tank top and the skin around the deep wound stained a crimson gore. Now she remembered… the idiots had set off a tranquilizer round right into her shoulder but had a high powered weapon and it had done actual damage. Shame, that meant that whenever she was delivered to whoever posted that bounty they would deduct points for damaged goods.

She rolled her head back and closed her pounding eyes, swearing several times within the spaces of her mind. How could her war craft be outclassed by some little skiff? From the looks of it the thing had to be of some kind of Alliance grade weaponry and engines; though that didn’t excuse it. She had let herself get sloppy it would seem. The thundercraker in her would never have been taken down like that. Ever. Laughter from the head of the ship only served to darken George’s sour mood and she thought listlessly of just what Slam she would be taken to… if to a slam at all. That was the dangers of being a criminal in this day and age, no job security at all.

Slitting her eyes open she noticed that there was only her in the captives hold instead of the usual menagerie of captured dolts like herself. It seemed that these guys were after her and only her, thinking that their lives would be made if they caught the one and only Georgina Collins. Why they didn’t go after the two that were higher ranking in the food chain than she was baffled her, they by all means could catch the guy under Riddick. Maybe even Riddick… A smirk quirked again on her lips as she thought of it being that bald guy strapped to the inside of this ship and not her. Anyone would be better but the irony would be fantastic if it had been him. Fate’s humor was a bit off lately.

Boot falls hit her ears and she lowered her head, relaxing her body and looking as asleep as she possibly could. The rancid stench of bad food and ale assailed her senses and the doorframe to the head groaned at someone leaning heavily against it. She could sense their presence, it was hard not to when you were so keenly aware of every little facet of your newest prison; she didn’t need to look up to know that their eyes were burning into her tired and lashed up body. Inspecting the prize, how lucky was she?

“I know ya ain’t sleepin’, darlin’, so quit with the innocent act,” George tensed very slightly before rolling her head to the side and regarding her merc viciously. He was of the tall variety, something she had only encountered once in a while with mercs since most of them seemed to be tiny with Napoleon complexes, with short cropped brown hair and deep green eyes she could almost see the human beneath the monster of a person he was. Any and all mercs were idiots, filth, and the scum of the universe, this one had just to prove it yet.

Chuckling in her chest George shifted against the wall again and let her eyes rove his form again, gauging his threat level. Bloodlust burned at her entire body, prickling the hairs on her arms and neck, and she could only imagine the look on his face when he was dying over the grate that she was forced to stand on, blood running down into the machinery underneath. “And why the hell should I talk to you?” she snarled lowly, slouching her body but aware of keeping her threatening presence up. If you didn’t show that you were a badass even when chained up then mercs tended to get the wrong idea about the situation, namely that they could do anything they wanted and still keep their genitals.

“Look who’s a smartass,” the man murmured and came into the holding area holding a bottle of what smelled to be triple distilled synthetic vodka. George kept a wary eye on him as he lumbered over to her, his form as large and imposing as the likes of Richard B. Riddick. Fuck, that meant that hand to hand was not an option with this guy if he had the same insane reflexes and power as the fellow convict.

“I try,” she snarled.

His green eyes ran over her body as blatantly as she had inspected him before landing on her arm wound. “I think you would want to talk so that you don’t get infected,” he held out the alcohol as if it were some kind of bartering chip.

George’s sneer pulled at her lips before her eyes were flashing death and satire. Was this guy serious? “That all you got? I can handle an infection,” she stated smugly, remembering that she still had a few years on her shots before anything bad could ever set in. Settling back again she barred her teeth at him like a wild animal, her fingers flexing against the cuffs holding her into place. “Why the hell should I talk anyway? Won’t get me freed… and for all I know you’ll use it to get more crimes on my head and increase my value… Fuck you!” she snapped and gave a threatening though useless lunge at him, her hair flying around her face in matted curls.

“Calm down, girlie, just wanted to have a conversation,” he held up his hands in mock defense, laughing. He watched her shows of aggression with smug arrogance.
George scoffed at that. She regarded him again and sized him up. A gun was laying on his hip and his merc clothing were in a better state than most she had run into during her time, he smelled strongly of the drink in his hand but his speech wasn’t slurred or his posture revealing drunkenness. This might be trouble… “Don’t call me, girlie,” she hissed. “If you want a damn conversation do it with your crewmates, not the one you just kidnapped…”

“Yer feisty,” he observed before taking a swig of the drink. Wincing as it slid down his throat he shook his head before offering the bottle. “Wanna drink?”

“Piss off!” she snarled again, disbelieving that this guy was taking this abuse and doing nothing about it.

“Yer not very good company, Georgina,” he commented blithely while leaning up on the wall beside her, taking another swig. She stared at him with a disgusted look, trying to kill him with her very mind but gave up when nothing happened. What was the good of being a killer if you couldn’t kill when you needed to!?

“Hard to be good company chained to a wall,” she bit back.

“True, true,” he nodded sagely before slipping into silence, nursing on his bottle of cheap booze while the murderer beside him tried desperately to figure a way to get him out of there so she could begin to plot her escape.

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The Wailing was taking far longer than anyone had thought; a good few years now and the war was still wagging full force between the two allied enemies. Wartime in this day and age was at most a five years, with the weapons that each and every nation possessed it was unwise to fight for too long and make the populous take the damage of a few people’s stupidity. The campaign had been going on for ten years now, and though she had come in at the latter tail end of it that didn’t mean that she was not ready for it to be over. But then again, what would happen when it ended? Where would that leave her?

Where would that also leave hundred of planets now decimated and used as pawns and chess pieces in this overly dramatic play out between the Alliance and the Resistance? Would help come in foreign aid or would they just be forgotten? And what about the hundreds of others that were blown up just for the sake of killing all those that were stationed on that rock? Killed without mercy… millions upon millions. War was a cruel creature that took everyone in its path to feed its voracious appetite and she was merely a pawn of it all. Something to be manipulated into doing what the higher ups wanted just for the fact that they were dangling something very important over her head. Her brother… information on how to get to him and possibly how to save him. It was amazing how quickly she had joined in after just about to die in that Slam, all in the hopes of saving her brother from the brainwash that was the necromongers. That didn’t’ mean she’d forgiven him, far from it, but she was willing to save him in order to kick his ass at a later date.

Georgina Collins was a thundercraker for the Alliance and was currently flying next to her main ship aboard her one seated skiff, hands on handlebars along with all of the others of her flank. They had been sent out to this squadron of the planet in hopes of finding the enemy embankment set up around two years ago; where the real troops feared to tread due to fire breathing lizard things the pawns were sent in to do the damage that was needed. The fact that she was the only surviving man of the original cluster had stopped weighing on her mind around two months ago and all that was left was getting out of here as fast as possible. She refused to let herself be used anymore.

With her visor up on her helmet she felt the cool, humid breeze of the tropical planet from this high up in its temperamental atmosphere. Full body armor adorned her form, clasped tight into place with the designs of the Alliance over the hard surface; even her gloves had the familiar swirls and ‘royal’ signs. She was a fucking walking advertisement… She shifted in the seat and watched the top of the canopy beneath her, the thick, multiple of bramble tree leaves creating a green carpet and where the ground actually lay was a mystery to them all. It was said that the enemy was somewhere in this dense forest, a forest that had been left unchecked for fear of the creatures that lived within it. Luckily for the commander in the massive battle cruiser beside her they were expendable and when they recovered the little chips that were implanted into her neck and chest they would be able to find out just what had killed them all. All in the name of victory her ass… She wasn’t willing to die just for the sake of letting the ones safe in that behemoth know what they were dealing with. Screw them; she was going to live, like she had for the last two years.

She could feel the excitement of the others flying near by her, the familiar hum of anti-gravitational engines filling her ears from under her thick, protective helmet. Blood was tinged in the air and the readiness for death was choking even someone of her caliber. How easily humans are corrupted, and she was no different. It was like leading wolves to a pack of deer where they were unleashed to do whatever was necessary to win, and George wasn’t the type to let any opportunity like that pass her up…

Narrowing her sights ahead of her as the clouds began to drift lower and lower beneath them, closing in on the tropical jungle beneath, she shifted and felt that familiar anxiety wash over her. Something pulling and roaring inside of her, something that they had tried to squash even on Artemis. It was in human nature to want to fight and to battle others of your kind, to prove your dominance over them, to gain what they had achieved through their own struggles only to have you rip it away, it was the glorious darkness that existed within all mankind’s races across the universe. The fact that Artemis had stifled that had made them all a sitting duck. Pushing thoughts of her old home away with a growl she revved her engine and felt a dark satisfaction when others of her flank did the same and started to hoot and holler from within their masks and helmets, ready for the order. Animals, all of them, every one of them including her had reduced themselves to guard dogs being unleashed and lead to their deaths.

Though at least now she was the barrage captain of the thunder’s… that had to account for something. Maybe she could use that for later. With a loud bang the main artillery of the warship by them launched a flare of deep, crimson red. All at once the signal was given out and the ships dropped down into a straight nose dive after their leader who had snapped her visor down and was plummeting down towards the coming leaves. Spinning the vessel around she launched the heat blades and cut through the brambles and fluttering greenery around her, diving straight into the dank darkness of the forest and hearing the similar noises of her squad doing the same all around her.

Trained though they weren’t she had reigned in those that were more wild than even her with the threats of leaving them in the field to be torn apart by the enemy or shooting them herself on the battle frontier. She had given formations and ranking and now they were their own small army, and it had only taken a good year to make it this way. They had lost many, but now the life of a thundercraker was much longer, it wasn’t just one battle you were expected to live through, but several if you knew how to actually handle the machine and the guns. If you did it right you could live as long as she had.

Turning out of the spin she rushed down the trunk of the large mangrove like tree she was speeding against, watching as the darkness of what she thought was the ground come closer and closer. She pulled up just as she would have hit the leaf covered dirt, narrowly avoiding large, winding roots that surfaced and went back under the ground like great grey dolphins, and began to go along the top of the underbrush, switching to silent mode for stealth and feeling the lurch that came with the decreased power. The others had just come through behind her, breaching the thick leave canopy, and had fallen into line just as they did the same as her, rushing through the trunks and trees while keeping their eyes on the leader. George pulled the blades back in and took in her surroundings through the blur of the speed around her, dark with only a few shafts of light here and there she had no choice but to turn on the six main lights on the front head of the single seat, gritting her teeth with the choice.

She cleared the ground and was abruptly skimming over the top of a large bog filled with dead logs and the same massive behemoths of plants reaching up to smother the single moon. Vines hung from the trees in eerie, dark green and mossy veins, and there almost seemed to be a pulse to the area around her. Turning here and there slowly, bringing the procession of easily twenty thunder’s she began the sweep. Beside her were her two head commanders, the ones that had lived longest next to her, a man named Bryan and a Synthiod by the borrowed name of Justith-or Justin, the thing did have a malfunction in the speech department.

The calm was deafening and disarming, making all the hairs on her armored arms stand up at attention. Breathing hard within the confines of the tight clothing she shifted and turned again, gazing out across the simmering pool that just teemed with life under the surface. She could tell that they were being watched… but by what and by whom? Should she risk speaking to her commanders and alerting the rest of them that there was something in the bog? Could they feel it? Could she afford that danger that that would bring onto them all? Or could she risk her team being caught off guard by something attacking them from the rear or side? Swearing in her head George hissed under her breath into the microphone that was pressed intimately against her cheek through her helmet, debating the choice. Radio frequencies were easy to pick up and she was unfamiliar with the terrain. Enemies could very easily be waiting in the marshes and waiting to just hear a single blurb of a transmission, then even with their skiffs they were sitting ducks. Especially with eight new recruits that hadn’t had the training yet.

A ripple caught her eye and the sound of something slick slipping through the water before it became deathly silent once more. Snapping her head in that direction George bit her lower lip, narrowing her eyes and watching the pattern that the shimmering water made in her vehicles light. Holding out a hand with two fingers held up the others halted, she could tell by the lacking of air pressure around her, and George went on a few feet in front, hovering over the water with anticipation.

A roar and a shot of fire suddenly came at her right and she barely had time to blanch and look desperately to her right as the flames came barreling down on her. Shouting and opening of gun turrets met her ears over the screaming red and blaze hurtling but soon she was engulfed and her ship disappeared from view.

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Riddick stuck the very tip of his tongue out of his mouth as he focused intently upon the task he was given to by himself. The small twisting piece of metal he had managed to pry from his bed boards was clasped between his large fingers as he worked diligently. Sliding it within the lock and watching as the long appendage disappeared within the wiring and workings that he had managed to silently bust open he prayed that this time it would work.

He nearly shouted his frustration when it was met with yet another obstruction within the small confines, yet another twist or turn that he would have to bend, with his damn teeth, to get to the main circuit. How chains had become so tech savvy was beyond him… Though luckily it still was not anything out of his reach; it would just take another hour at this rate. An hour that he might not have, stupid fucking Necromonger’s and their fancy shit. Why not just have regular metal and locks where he could get out in his sleep? No. Damn it. Biting down on the small twist of wire he bent it somewhere between the very front and just before his fourteenth made bend before inserting and trying again.

He must have looked like an idiot, sitting there with his legs crossed and hunched over his shackles and confident that the guards would avoid looking in at all costs. He had conducted an experiment with them earlier, where he had reached through and snagged one of their uniforms with the tip of his fingers before growling like an animal at him and glaring with his silver eyes in a way that proved to be very menacing. The guy had pissed his pants and had threw himself away from the door as quickly as possible, spluttering to his partner who swiftly had shocked the damn door. But it had been worth the scorch marks on his thighs and palms; now he knew that these guys were just as easy to mind fuck as any other human. It made his job easier. Riddick had made sure that he had spent the next few hours after that messing with them enough that they left a good three feet between themselves and the cage door; giving him plenty of room with which to work his magick.

And so he found himself sitting on the cold hard marble floor, picking at the exposed innards of his shackles and trying to find the main breaker. His neck was starting to ache from being bent over so extremely but as his silver eyes narrowed in the limited light of his cell he could feel the familiar exhilaration of being dared. There was something about being in this kind of setting that provided him a challenge. They were saying he couldn’t do it by putting him in chains and bindings, saying he couldn’t leave. He didn’t do well with people telling him what to do, that’s why the law didn’t like him and why he was even in this shit, so tying him up and telling him he couldn’t escape was a bad move. It just gave him time to think and plot before he made his big move. It was the same rush he got whenever he was fighting or whenever he was back in a Slam.

He loved it when a plan came together and he would not let this be one of the plans where it all went on the fan. When the wire finally broke through something, the circlets around his wrists giving off a faint snap sound, he let out a small hissing noise. A smirk pulling at Riddick’s lip was all that showed his arrogance at accomplishing such a task. After that click there was a spark that ran up from where the wires disappeared into the smooth metal of the encasing all the way to where he had made the hole with his teeth. Jolted by the small amount of electricity the bald convict momentarily had to close his eyes to keep from making any other noise, pain momentarily flaring through his body. It passed quickly and when he next glanced down he had gotten what he had been searching for, the cuffs had fallen open and his sore wrists that had been imprisoned for over a day now were free. He cocked his head to look at his ankles, which were joined by the long iron chain to his wrists, to find them open now as well and lying useless on the floor.

Now he was free again. A swelling of pride ran through him and Riddick momentarily basked in it before he came to a slow standing, rolling his shoulders and flexing his fingers, enjoying the rush of blood that came with it. But soon he brought himself back to reality, realizing now that the planning had just begun. Sure he was able and capable again and willing to take on whoever stepped through that door, especially should it be Vaako, but he had nothing to fight with other than his bare hands. And considering that the last time he had taken on these guys he had his shiv’s and a few guns and still lost he wanted to at least have some form of weapon before being taken down so readily. Even the toughest opponent’s could be taken down with the right strategy, all he had to do was think.

Riddick took a seat upon his bed, the mattress groaning under him momentarily, before setting his chin on his fingers. Staring at the wall opposite of him he gritted his teeth and tried to rationalize this situation. He was in a ship with an unknown number of necromonger converts that were all almost certainly trained in how to use their dark matter weaponry and that did not include tasers and tranquilizer guns either. Out manned and out gunned things were not looking good, but again there was always a solution, somewhere, somehow he would find a way out of here. Lucky for him it did not appear that Vaako or any really high ranking men were on the ship this time. If it had been the second in command that was in charge then he would have come down to gloat by now, or grovel, whichever one that his wife had decided to send him to do. Then there was the issue of Dame Vaako and just what he was going to do with her should he be taken back to the head of the fleet again. He was still in control. He could have her killed for treason and have Vaako demoted back to a foot soldier for being pussy whipped, but that was if he had to be taken back.

Plan for everything he always liked to say. He didn’t want to think of a world where he had to let himself be brought back to that damn place, however it had to be done. They had to dock soon, that much he knew. He himself had been on the way to a system, and had only been a few days from reaching it, so they had to be at least as low as he had been on fuel and supplies if not lower. Chasing someone left very little time to restock on things, so chances are if he was lucky he could find a way to get off of the ship when the rest were out and about on planet. That was assuming that they were close to the system though, and it also was assuming that he had only been out for a few hours and not maybe four days; that left plenty of time to arrive, call ahead, and get the stuff onboard as quickly as possible. It was all he had at this point though.

So… wait for a few cycles and if he did arrive at the planet or even one of them then he was set, for he had already started to devise that particular coming together. However, if they weren’t, then he had to find a weak spot in the walls, electrical for his quadrant of the ship, air supply, kill the guards with a make shift weapon from his bed, the numbers of what he could do were staggering. Numbers of what would be wise and successful however were dwindling the more he thought them out. He had plenty of time, and Riddick was a very patient man.