He Didn't Come

“New Mecca,” Imam said insistently. “We must go to New Mecca.”

One word. “No.”

“But-”

“No.” Riddick's voice was firm, calm, and controlled. His guttural grating didn’t make Imam flinch inwardly anymore, and the sick irony of it all didn’t escape Riddick’s attention. The angel of death himself in many ways, he was now the savior of a gentle old holy man and a scrawny half-girl, half hellion child that had disguised herself as a boy and played at the hero worship of a murderer.

Imam sighed. “Well, where else do we go, then? I have good prospects in New Mecca. I am to run my nephew’s store. It is a small store, but I will have stability. The girl is welcome to share that stability, as are you.”

Riddick glanced at him. “Did he die?”

“Did who die, Mr. Riddick?” Imam looked perplexed.

“Whoever it is whose job you’re taking.”

With an odd expression, as though he had a foul taste in his mouth, the old man answered, “Yes, my nephew died. He is with Allah now. Why do you ask?”

“How?” Riddick knew the question would startle the old man. Men like Imam didn’t like to think about death, faith in heaven notwithstanding. The look on his face was one of such unpleasant surprise that Riddick had to laugh. He tried not to wake Jack, but it was so much fun harassing the serious, yet somewhat brainless, old man.

They had been on board the skiff about a week when the conversation took place. There was a very small supply of food left, there had never been clean clothes for any of them, and then, of course, there was the limited fuel for the cells. Riddick knew that if a ship or space station didn’t pick up their distress beacon within a day, or two at most, they were well and truly fucked. He wasn’t sure if their little skiff would last much longer. He wondered if he could ditch the other two when they were eventually picked up. Though he had no real intention of accompanying them anywhere if he could help it, for the time being he was stuck with them. He also knew, however, that he would take them wherever they would need to go—yes, even to New Mecca, but he told himself that it would be only to shut Imam up. It would make things much more pleasant in general if they had actual food on their new mode of transportation, whatever it happened to be, and not the dehydrated crap that was supplied for them, among other things.

His thoughts turned to the girl. She was remarkably brave, if still a child with a child’s reactions. Jack had a survivor’s aura. He wondered about where she had come from, and why she had even been on the ship. She’d never said where her parents were, and he hadn’t asked. He figured that either they were cruel and abusive and she had split, or they were dead. If neither was the case and they were worth giving a damn about, she would have mentioned them already instead of just nodding in tired agreement when Imam suggested his own destination as a home for all three.

She had some strange hero-worship thing going on for Riddick, and he couldn’t imagine why. He was subhuman in most people’s eyes, and superhuman in the eyes of a very few others. However, the only person who had ever looked at him without fear was that strange changeling child named Jack. He felt a bond forming between them, a connection he couldn’t puzzle out. She trusted him. But… why?
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Their comm unit crackled to life the next day, startling Riddick out of his nap. He swung his feet down from the console and righted the pilot seat out of its reclining position. He never slept deeply unless he was alone, but he had to yawn his sleepiness away just the same as he forced himself to focus.

“Please respond,” it was saying. Reception was awful. “Is anyone alive? Please confirm.”

Riddick toggled the comm unit to ‘transmit’ and said, “Yes, we are alive. It’s great to hear another voice.”

“This is the Reliance. How many alive on board?”

“Two men and one g… one boy.”

“We’re pulling you in.”

Riddick knew better than to ask if it was an Alliance ship or if it was just some private vessel from somewhere in the Consortium. If it was an Alliance ship, he was done for anyway, and if it wasn’t, then it would tip off the crew that he wasn’t someone who had any reason to embrace the Alliance, and treat him accordingly.

When the tractor beam locked on and began drawing them to the loading bay, Jack and Imam rushed to the cockpit.

“What’s happening?” Jack asked in a strained voice.
She was trying unsuccessfully to mask her fear. Riddick gestured, palm down, for her to calm herself. “Relax. Just a ship. We’re being rescued.”
Her frown disappeared as a broad smile planted itself on her face. She was one of those people whose eyes literally lit up when they were happy. Her eyes were glowing now.

“Oh, yes! Finally! I can take a shower, and eat real food, and….” Her voice trailed off when she saw the look on his face. “What’s wrong, Riddick?”

He didn’t answer until she touched his firm shoulder. “Hmm? Oh. Just thinking about something.” After another minute or two of debate, he turned to the pair of them. “Okay, listen up. Don’t call me Riddick. Riddick’s dead. The ‘rats killed him. I’m Rick Jones, okay? I was on a… oh, hell, a religious pilgrimage to New Mecca, and had all my worldly goods and identification destroyed when the ‘rats took the ship. Got it?” Jack and Imam nodded in unison, and after a moment, he nodded in response. “Good.”

There was nothing to do but wait. He, used to patience and tension, didn’t show his growing frustration and unusual apprehension. Imam was tapping his fingers along the console from the copilot’s seat. Riddick gritted his teeth as the noise went on… and on… and on. With a subtle clenching of his fist, he forced himself not to slam a shiv through the old man’s hand.

Jack, unable to keep still, meandered in the back. He didn’t pay much attention to her. She called his name, and he ignored her. He didn’t know if this was a ship with Alliance connections or not, and he knew that if it was, he wasn’t going to escape this time. They’d toss him back into slam, but this time it would be the slam on Prison Moon. There had never been any escapes from that slam, documented or otherwise. Ever. He was an escape artist and a damn good murderer, but he didn’t want to test his luck on the Moon.

Jack’s voice was more insistent. “Riddick! Hey, Imam, get his attention, would you? I found something.”

Imam moved to tap his arm, but it wasn’t necessary. Riddick stood and looked over at the girl. She was kneeling down, digging underneath a seat cushion. Riddick hadn’t known they opened up.

He knelt down beside her and saw that there was a hidden seam that he’d never noticed before. Jack had her arm stuck inside and was frowning. “There’s something in there,” she grunted, “but it’s stuck.”

Riddick shrugged. “So?”

She shot him a dirty look. “So help me.”

He muttered, “Fine.” Humoring her, he slid his hand in beside hers and felt around. The foam cushion had a huge lateral slit in its underside, and there was a plastic bag of something shoved in the back. She was right, it was stuck pretty well. Intrigued, he said to her, “Pull your hand out for a second.”

She obeyed without arguing, for once. Riddick reached all the way back and felt around for whatever held the bag in place, and found something that felt like a clip of some sort. He closed his eyes, concentrating, and finally freed the bag.

When he drew it out, Jack gasped. “Whoa. Look at all that money!”
Sure enough, there were wads and wads of UD bills rolled inside the bag. Easily a thousand in universal denomination.

“What do you think it was doing in there?” she asked.

Imam, who had joined them, answered, “I suppose it is part of the emergency store. However, I am puzzled as to why it would be hidden.”

Riddick shook his head. “Nope.” He touched the slit, which, upon closer inspection, had been hastily torn with something jagged and then stuck back together with tiny staples, almost too small to see. No wonder none of them had noticed it earlier. It was lucky that they found it when they did. Riddick knew fully well that in that sector of space, the only protection they had was money. Unfortunately, it could easily become their worst liability.

“Okay, smart guy. So how did it get in there?” Jack said impatiently.

“I’m thinking.” Finally he answered, speaking to Imam, “Remember how the locks were jammed?” Imam nodded. Riddick went on, “Okay. Someone—a crew member, maybe even a ‘rat for some reason or another—came in here, stashed the money, and recoded the lock. I had to hack it to get in.”

“Oh.” Jack took the bag from his hand and examined the bills inside. He gave her the bag without protest. UD bills were all the same- the silver seal of the Alliance on one side and three or four different ID codes on the other. The bills were distributed every standard year and each year the codes were different, to prevent counterfeiting. There were small subtle changes in the seal and the border around it as well. Little details like that were hard to fake and even harder to catch. It made very little sense to him. Why bother with changing the details if no one but a trained Alliance official, or someone extremely talented in forgery, was going to notice in the first place?

~*~

The Reliance had them docked within an hour and a half, and within a second hour, they all had been given clean clothes and a shower. Jack stuck close by him, and Riddick remained surprisingly patient. She asked too many questions sometimes, but those questions were intelligent, at least.

The ship was a privately owned merchant vessel, and the name masked its true nature. The crew was nothing but a bunch of smugglers together for a particularly long haul.

Riddick wondered at first why they bothered picking them up in the first place, but when two of crewmen started sniffing around Jack, asking questions about where they were from and what they had managed to save from the disaster, he knew. Money, pure and simple. The raft would be ripped apart and sold as a heap of scrap metal and spare parts, and they wanted any other assets they could get their hands on—namely cold, hard currency.

Riddick walked over to where Jack was sitting and stood over the two crewmen silently. Jack’s face was getting a familiar look on it—the one she wore when she was getting particularly angry and trying to keep quiet about it. She got angry a lot, he’d noticed.

The crewmen both stood promptly and stammered excuses before practically running back to their regular duties. Riddick sat down beside Jack and said nothing.

She didn’t say a word either, and he was glad. She seemed content enough to just sit quietly, which was what he needed. He had to think, and Imam had commandeered their room when they first boarded. He made it clear that they were perfectly welcome, but he made it equally clear that he was busy praying, and if they were to be there, they would be expected to sleep or participate. Otherwise, Jack and Riddick were to leave him alone.

This information was communicated calmly but firmly that first day, and as Jack had opened her mouth to protest, the door was shut gently in her face. Riddick had been standing several feet away and snickered. “Come on, kid,” he’d said. “Let’s go see about getting something to eat.”

Now he and Jack sat side by side, each in their own thoughts. What was he going to do? He had arranged with the captain (with the help a few hundred creds) to drop them at the next station. He didn’t trust the crew around Jack. She wouldn’t give up her male disguise for anything, but something might slip and as there was no cryo and no women on board, it didn’t take a genius to figure out what men who’d been in space continuously, with literal months between stops, would do.

So they’d get dropped at a station. Then what? Would he ditch them, like he had already vowed to do at least twice? It was the smart thing to do. It was definitely the option that made the most sense, at least in his case. He couldn’t stay planetside for long, especially a place that was as close to Februus as the Ichar system. Alliance soldiers would be crawling all over the place.

But what would the kid do? And why did he have such a strong urge to keep tabs on her? Riddick sighed, and snuck a look over at the kid. She had curled up on the bench in a fetal position, just like that time on the skiff. There was a detached look in her eyes. He was suddenly unsure if she even knew where she was.

“Kid.” He snapped his fingers in her face. No response. Nothing. “Hey, kid. Jack!” Her face was still and remote, and he shook her. “Wake up.”

With something close to a scream, she leapt to her feet and backed away. The expression on her face was nothing short of the picture of barely suppressed panic. Riddick didn’t move. He didn’t know what had scared her so badly, but he didn’t want to make it worse.

She was panting. Riddick held his hand out to her, and she flinched. Speaking in a low voice, as though trying to coax a cornered animal, he murmured, “It’s okay, kid. Breathe. It’s just me. You’re safe. Come on, relax. Just breathe.”

Slowly her panting faded and her face flushed scarlet. Shrugging, she backed away further, looking sheepish and embarrassed. “Sorry about that.”

Riddick opened his mouth to reply, but she turned and walked off without another word.