Consummation

THREE


“Look at me.”

Grange’s voice was still raspy as hell, but it didn’t sound threatening or even angry. Jack took this as a good sign and cautiously raised her eyes to meet his.

“Are you all right?”

After a moment, she nodded. Her throat felt raw and pummeled, but she could live with that.

“I’ll make sure Spinelli doesn’t mess with you anymore. He should never have touched you. You never mess with merchandise. Idiot needs to learn that.”

Jack was beyond confused, but it was a weary confusion. How had she ended up with these two men, anyway? It was as though both sides of Riddick had split into their own entities, and each was pulling her in a certain direction. This Grange certainly did remind her of Riddick. His voice, yes, but it was more than that. It was the way he looked at her, with concern mixed with careful, calculated consideration. It was the way he was so forceful with Spinelli. It was like almost every good quality Riddick possessed were wrapped up inside this man… this slaver.

And Spinelli, well, he was like the side of Riddick that treated her like a worthless animal.

“Please… what happened?” she asked meekly.

“What, how we got you?”

Jack nodded.

“Well—I’m gonna sit down, okay?”

Jack nodded again, marveling at how nice this man was being. She hadn’t been treated this well since… well, since before Riddick stole her.

“Originally I wasn’t a slaver. I’m a smuggler. But the market’s down big time for some reason, so when Captain Rivers saw the big bald guy with a slave—I’m guessing that was you, right?”

Jack nodded once more.

“Well, he got the bright idea to hijack your ship and steal all the slaves aboard. He assumed that the bald guy was a slaver, you know. But there was just you.”

“So… what…? Did he just let me go?” Jack asked softly. She was directing the question at herself, really, but Grange answered her anyway.

“Not according to Spinelli, and I’m inclined to believe him. He took down seven of the eight men, including the Captain.”

“Eight men just for me?” Jack wondered aloud.

“Hey, the Captain was hoping for a take of twenty slaves or more. Hence the spacious accommodations,” he joked, gesturing with a vague sweep of his arm the bunkroom where they sat.

“So… what happened to him?”

“Who, the Captain?” At Jack’s slow shake of the head, he said, “Oh, your master.”

Jack winced at the word. It just drove home the reality of her status even more. It was hard for her to think of Riddick as her master. He was Riddick.

“He’s dead, I think.”

Dead.

Such simple words. Such a complex reaction. Loss. Pain. Fear. A feeling of relief? No... just confusion at the lack thereof. Dead. Riddick dead. No. Impossible.

“Are… are you sure?” Her voice cracked, and she hated herself for it.

“It’s what Spinelli said. He saw him take three tranq darts and a bullet. He didn’t see where the bullet hit him, but he went limp after killing the Captain. My guess is that he’s either dead or unconscious, and he’d bleed to death before the tranqs wore off. What, did you actually like him?”

Jack supposed that her reaction was either stranger or stronger than she thought. Why else would he ask such an odd question?

She shrugged. “I… I don’t know,” she answered honestly.

She felt the intensity of the emotions inside her well up and threaten to overflow. She needed to change the subject, and fast. “So where are we going? What do you want with me?”

“We’re headed to Uburi Two. Got a trader there who’ll buy you.”

Any kind of good feelings she’d been having toward Grange disappeared entirely. “What?”

“Yeah, you should fetch a good price. Young, attractive, healthy as far as I know.”

“Why do you want to sell me?”

“For profit. Why else would we grab you in the first place?”

This slaver was speaking as though it was no big deal. “I… I don’t….” Jack couldn’t even finish.

“You don’t what, want to be sold? It’s not like you’ve never been sold before. How’d baldy get you?”

Suddenly Jack understood. Grange assumed she’d been a slave for years, most likely since birth. She hurried to set him straight, hoping that he’d change his mind about flipping her to a trader. “No. I’ve never been sold. I haven’t been a slave for very long. He was my first owner.”

Owner. My God.

Grange seemed nonplussed. “Really? Oh… fuck. I’ve got to get a hold of Bentley and tell him.”

“Tell him what?” Jack asked his retreating form.

There was no answer, no response other than the door sliding shut and Grange’s voice saying, “Door lock.”

~*~

“Mr. Bentley. Yeah, it’s Grange. Remember that slave I told you about?”

Mark Bentley’s face flickered on the screen. “What about her?”

“She’s not quite what I told you.”

Bentley’s face darkened. “What do you mean?”

Grange swallowed nervously. Bentley, though he’d only grown powerful in the past few years, was well-known for his sharp eye for business. Grange was in deep shit if Bentley thought he was screwing him. “I just spoke to her. She’s never been trained, as far as I can tell. She’s never been sold. She’s brand new to the market, is my guess.”

Bentley was silent for a moment. “Hmm. I see.”

Grange attempted patience, but when Bentley maintained his silence, he spoke up. “So do you still want her?”

Bentley sighed. He looked tired, Grange noted. “I suppose so. You can bring her in, at least, and I’ll have a look at her. But you do know that her value just dropped like a rock, right? Nobody wants to take on training a slave that age.”

Grange nodded unhappily. “Yeah, I know.”

“Good. As long as we’re clear on that. From what you’ve told me, she’s just going to be a headache. Late teens and not even trained yet? God, Grange. I’ll probably be doing you a fucking favor if I take her off your hands.”

“I know, sir, and I’m grateful for that.”

Bentley waved his hand dismissively. “Whatever. Spare me the sucking-up bullshit. The only reason I’m giving you the time of day is because Ron was a friend of mine.”

Grange nodded again, suddenly very grateful for the late Captain’s acquaintance with this man. “I’ll see you in a week, then, Mr. Bentley?”

Bentley nodded, already reaching a hand toward the corner of the viewscreen, where the power button must have been located. “A week. No later. Contact me before you land.”

With that, the power was cut off and Grange was alone with his thoughts, or so it seemed. A voice muttered, “Can’t believe you’re sucking up to that asshole.”

Grange whirled around to see Spinelli standing in shadow. “Jesus, you scared me. Watch out before you sneak up on people like that.”

Spinelli shrugged. “Sorry.”

Grange replied, “It’s fine. Don’t worry about it. Let’s get a drink, huh?”

Spinelli grinned his pleasure at the suggestion, and Grange hoped he’d be able to get the other man so drunk he passed out. Spinelli was getting on his nerves.

~*~

Riddick routed most of the power on his ship to the engine and thrusters. The computer predicted his arrival in three days. Those three days were going to pass slowly for him. He wasn’t even sure if Freed was still living where he had been ten years ago. Well, easy enough to find out.

Moving to the console, wincing as he moved his injured arm, he went to the planet’s main trade database. When he typed in Freed’s name and ran a search, only one result popped up. Riddick checked his old friend’s posted details and saw that his main place of operation was still where it had been in the past. Satisfied, Riddick powered off the search function and, after double- and triple-checking his course and trajectory, went to bed.