Terra Firma

Title: Terra Firma (4/?)
Author: moirasfate/ianthe_waiting
Disclaimer:Any and all characters associated with the films Pitch Black & The Chronicles of Riddick are property of USA Films, Universal Studios, Radar, and One Race Productions. They have been used without permission and are used for entertainment purposes only. No copyright infringements are intended. All other characters are the author's own creation and belong to the author.
Rating: MA/NC-17
Summary: Five years after gaining the title of Lord Marhsal, Riddick heeds the call of his blood to return to his home world where he is met with a surprise that makes him realize that much of what he believes is a lie.
Warnings: M/F, AU, Angst, H/C, Violence, Language and all around roughness.
Genre: Sci-fi, Drama, etc.
Author's Notes: This is my first try at some Chronicle of Riddick fanfiction. This is a series of films that I love just as much as HP, so give a try okay? The AU label kicks in because I am one of those fans who do not want to believe that the characters of Kyra and Jack are the same person. This sentiment will be reflected in this fic. The chapters are relatively short, compared to most of my fics, so don't hate me. Thanks for reading!

Terra Firma
Chapter Three – A Warrior’s Code

The forced march through the cold took over two hours, Vaako between two men in cloaks, their senses keen to anticipate any move the First Commander would make. Vaako had not thought of breaking free, all he could think of was trying to stay warm. His crew followed behind him, giving up their weapons and marching quietly through rubble-strewn streets and snow. Only two men had been allowed to stay with the ship, and that had been allowed under the provision that four Furyan guards stay behind as well. Vaako knew that the Furyans were not interested in destroying the ship, but perhaps gutting it for its technology.

The sky was darkening as they marched; Furyans moving around them, eyeing them with nothing less than hatred, but none had spoken to them or provoked them. Vaako kept his eyes upon what seemed to be the leader of the Furyans, the female in the heavy fur cloak and the sword. Vaako had only seen a few faces from under the cowls, and the Furyans seemed to be as varied in appearance as Those Who Remained. Some were darker than others, men and women moving and fighting together. It had only been with Riddick that the sexist gap in Those Who Remained was filled. Men and women worked together, and within the first year of the restoration of breeding capabilities, many children had been born. The first year births seemed to change so much with the remnants of the Necromonger Empire. It had been an age since children had moved about the halls of the large housing cruisers. Laughter was heard in the dark and cold corridors of the ships, and color returned to the faces of the people…

Humans were all alike, no matter how much time and space had separated them.

Finally, Vaako and his men were led toward the large structure he had first noticed upon landing. He estimated that they had been forced to march through the cold for over a mile, and for over three hours. The cold and the rubble had impeded the march, but as he was brought to the doors of a the large cathedral like structure, his men were forced in another direction. Vaako knew better than to protest and with a single glance to his men, he knew that they would continue to be led by their captors without a word. Only the woman and another Furyan escorted him through a set of heavy bronze doors and into the inside of the structure.

Vaako followed the woman closely, feeling the other Furyan’s gaze upon his back. Through a dark and cold narthex, they passed through a large portal and into a large circular atrium. What Vaako saw amazed him. The architecture was grandiose, the atrium taller than what the main hall of the Necropolis had been. A dome set atop the atrium with a coffered and blackened ceiling. An open oculus revealed a dusky, winter sky, but it was what was inside the atrium that captured Vaako’s keen eyes. Hundreds of people moved about the atrium, talking around many large fires, sitting on fur rugs and talking amongst themselves. Even children played between the fires with wooden swords and toys. There was a crying babe somewhere nearby, and the people ate from spitted pit fires. Weapons of all sorts and shapes hanged upon the walls, none dusty and forgotten like the weapons in the old Necromonger ships…mere decoration and never used. Even dogs, pets, wandered between the fires, some as large as men and some as small as children... Vaako was entranced by what he was seeing…it was community, a true human community. Those Who Remained were shadows compared to the life and light of the Furyans gathered in the atrium, and Vaako wondered if with time Those Who Remained would come to be as lively and human as the Furyans.

Vaako was pushed roughly as he lagged behind the woman. The Furyan growled at Vaako to “keep moving,” and move he did. Eyes were upon him and upon his armor. The hall fell to a heavy silence, only whispers soon filled the tense air. Fear began to penetrate Vaako’s mind…

Across the hall and through a smaller portal, Vaako was led through a darkened corridor, and when he came out into another circular hall, he quickly realized that he was standing upon the floor of a circular auditorium made of red marble and lined with benches reaching so high into the room that Vaako could not judge just how high the roof was or how large of a hall he stood in. Directly before him was a large dais with a throne, much like the Lord Marhsal’s throne. But on either side of the large seat were six small chairs made of marble, and upon those chairs sat twelve people…all older than Vaako could imagine. There was rarely elderly Necromongers, all having met their ‘due time’ somewhere in their middle age or earlier.

All around Vaako, people began filing into the hall, voice murmuring cautiously. Torches were lit all around the circular chamber and the light was warm. Vaako was made to stop just before the dais, the Furyan male standing just at his left. The woman, however, climbed the dais and turned to sit upon the throne.

Vaako blinked, noting that the woman had not removed her cloak or pushed back her cowl.

“You are to remove your helmet, Necro, you are before the Council now,” the Furyan male growled hatefully to Vaako.

Vaako slowly complied, sliding his helmet from his head so that his long ebon hair fell over his shoulders in tied pieces and braids. His eyes moved to the woman upon the throne and then to the faces of the six elders on the woman’s left and then to those on the right. All were gazing coolly down at him, assessing and calculating. But it was the ancient woman who sat at the direct right of the throne whose gaze was the most poignant and disturbing.

Finally the noise of people moving died and the Furyan male who had escorted Vaako stepped forward, turning the assembly and pushing back the cowl of his cloak. The man who looked into the dark of the benches was perhaps as old or older than Vaako. The man was dark, his skin so black that it shined like obsidian, he had a thick mane of black, braided hair that fell past his shoulders and around his smooth face. Pulling open the clasp of his cloak, Vaako could just see the faint glow of blue…the tip of a finger of a larger handprint. Vaako had noticed the same mark on the Lord Marshal, and learned that it was a mark only Furyan men carried, a mark that was only given to those who had survived Zhylaw’s massacre of innocents.

“You all know me, I, Uriel, and I speak to you about an event that has recently occurred!”

The man, Uriel, had voice that boomed across the space of the hall, clear and deep. His black eyes moved from face to face, almost to look at every face in the darkness of the benches above the floor where he stood.

“Today a ship landed on the border between the ruins and the wilderness, a Necromonger ship!”

The reaction startled Vaako as he turned and looked about the hall. Voices were shouting for his death. The hatred was palpable and it fell upon Vaako’s shoulders like an oppressive stone.

“Silence!” Uriel demanded, his voice reverberating in Vaako’s chest. The hall obediently fell silent, and the dark man continued. “This Necro has made claims, claims that will be investigated. This Necro claims that the scourge that nearly destroyed our world has passed on to their ‘Underverse,’” Uriel spat.

Vaako knew better than to correct the Furyan…no one, not even the True Believers believed Zhylaw had made it to the Underverse.

“This Necro has made claims that he has not come to convert or kill us, he has even surrendered himself and his crew to us! I tell you this now, my brothers and sisters, because after thirty years we may have to fight again!”

The crowd burst out with sound…shouts and war cries. The sound was overwhelming, the timbre of the voices deafening Vaako and pushing him closer to fear. The power of the hundreds of voices upon a battlefield was no doubt frightening. Vaako kept his face expressionless, his eyes sweeping back to see the reaction of the people sitting upon the dais, the supposed leaders of the surviving Furyans…or so Vaako assumed.

When the noise grew louder and voices rang out again for the spilling of Vaako’s blood, the woman on the throne stood suddenly, her long sword drawn and immediately the voices stopped.

“You cry out for this man’s blood, but he has not raised a hand against us!” she cried out and Vaako could only just see her chin from under the cowl. Her sword was pointed toward the crowd of people…men, women and children, and she stood as the voice of reason to quell their bloodlust.

“We killed four of his men out of offense. This man did not fight us. He gave us his person to keep if he should be lying…himself and his men. There is only one ship, and before we start making battle plans, we should seek out the truth of the situation.

I will not deny that I feel as you do in hating the Necros, but has any one every heard of a Necro surrendering? Has anyone heard of a Necro who does not immediately kill or convert?”

The crowd murmured amongst themselves at those words…the hatred turned to suspicion, just as it had when the Furyans had attacked his men…

“I suggest that we use their ship’s systems to find out the truth!” she growled, her voice laden with unseen power and authority that every Furyan bowed their head in acquiescence.

“I want a group of twenty Techs to go with Uriel to the ship. There are two Necros on the ship…work with them. I want a group of ten Observers to begin scanning the system for other ships. I also want a group of fifty Scouts to begin sniffing out other ships…if there are any…if they have landed. We start tonight and we will not stop until we have answers,” the woman commanded, sheathing her sword in what Vaako saw was a scabbard tucked into a belt.

“The other Necros are to be treated as political prisoners…that means no killing, no torturing. We used to have laws on this planet when it came to prisoners, we should follow them!”

The crowd murmured assent, leaving Vaako curious. By what authority did this woman have to command?

“There will be no fighting tonight. Life will go on as it has since we took back our world with our bare hands. And I promise you that if there comes a time to fight, I will be fighting at your side. But for tonight, return to your homes, stoke your fires and think of how we will once again be a race to be reckoned with!”

The crowd rose to their feet in pride, shouting their praise and slowly exiting the hall. Vaako was left to stand before the dais as the elders also adjourned to the shadows.

“Bring the Necro, Uriel…Mother and I have questions for him,” the woman commanded again, her voice softer and more restrained.

And Vaako was pushed along again, deeper into the cathedral complex. Down many levels, Vaako found the air warmer, fragrant with the smell of food, of blood and of fire. Through twisting corridors and past cells and dungeons, Vaako came at last to another round chamber, smaller than the auditorium and built so that a two tiered bench ran along the walls, pressing into toward a central fire. A well in the ceiling let the smoke rise up and out. The stone walls of the room were painted with battle scenes, primitive in execution, but stunning in detail.

Vaako was made to sit on bench close to the fire, his skin warming quickly with his close proximity to the fire. The old woman who sat closest to the throne was sitting a distance away, also close to the fire, and above her was the leader of the Furyans, slowly pulling off her cloak in the firelight.

The first thing Vaako noticed about the woman was her youthful appearance and her clothing. She wore a pair of heavy boots with many straps, cargo pants and a heavy rough knit sweater that seemed three sizes too big over her curves. Her hair was long and wavy, a tawny color that gave Vaako a reason to pause. When she turned so that her green eyes flashed in the fire light, Vaako unconsciously rose to his feet.

He never forgot a face…and this face was the face of someone he knew to be dead.

* * *


“You will tell us, Vaako, why you have come. And then you try and convince me why I should not have you and your men torn to pieces by my brothers and sisters,” the woman growled, her voice icy and her gaze domineering.

Vaako slowly sat, catching the movement of the dark man Uriel reading for a dagger under his cloak from where he stood to the entrance of the chamber.

“Will you allow me a question?” Vaako finally said…the first words he had uttered since surrendering.

The woman smirked, her pale lips twisting maliciously. She glanced to the older woman who sat below her. “One question for now.”

“Your name?”

The woman chuckled. Besides Vaako and the woman, only the old crone and Uriel were in the room. A part of Vaako whispered that he could easily overpower the man, and possibly the women…he quickly killed the thought when the woman spoke.

“My name…formally I am called Audrey…Lady Audrey.”

“And informally?” Vaako asked.

“I said only one…one question. But you may call me Jack.”

TBC!