A Future in History

DISCLAIMER: I own absolutely nothing you recognize. Not a bit of it. And I make no money off of writing this.

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He woke slowly, aware only of the dark and a warmth in his limbs. It was when he realized that he couldn’t smell anything, couldn’t smell a damn thing, that he panicked and tried to spring to defensive position, while simultaneously slide his hand under the pillow, where he always kept a blade while he slept. He couldn’t move. He couldn’t Goddamn move.

It was then that he heard a noise to his left, a slight shifting, a rustle of fabric, a quick tearing of thick paper, and then the sharp sudden rush of a match on sandpaper that illuminated the room he was in. The light grew dim and then brighter, and he assumed that someone had lit a candle. Then he heard the sigh; resigned, regretful. It was a woman.

“I’m sorry it had to come to this. There were so many reasons I couldn’t contact you directly, the least of which is the Necros.” Her voice was low, sultry, but guarded. “I’ve given you a drug, it’s a sensory inhibitor. I injected it into your arm while you slept. It kept you that way, long enough for me to get you here. I switched ships several times over the last few days. They won’t track you. You are safe from them here for as long as you wish to remain.”

He forced his head turn, forced his body to comply at least that much. He looked at her, as best he could in the dim light. Her faced was shrouded in shadow, the veil of her hair hiding it further. He couldn’t make out her features. She was wearing a rough leather vest, buttoned to the mock turtleneck collar. Her pants were dark canvas military style, the pockets filled with unrecognizable lumps. Her hands were folded tensely in her lap.

“I do apologize for the sensory deprivation. It was another necessary part of my plan. Your sense of smell and taste should return within the next hour. Your movement and motor function will return completely shortly thereafter. At that time, you will be free to make the decision I am about to offer you. I won’t be able to sit here much longer, so I’ll have to get through my story quickly. Your smell is…well, intoxicating to me.”

As she spoke, she had begun to unbutton her vest, slowly moving down the buttons and popping them from their small holes without disrupting the fabric. When she opened the button just above the swell of her breast, she stopped, slid her hands up her chest, grasped the edges of the fabric and slowly pulled them apart. There, on her chest, was a glowing image he knew all to well. She bore the mark of the Furion.

She cleared her throat, and looked to the side while she re-buttoned her vest. She continued once she had it fastened tight, her voice low and harsh.

“My mother was a whore. I didn’t know it then, not really. I knew I had many uncles. She told me over and over that I was special, that I was important. When I was eight, she was killed, and I was sent to a girl’s school. I wasn’t well liked there. I was quiet, suspicious of others, aggressive when I felt the situation warranted. At nine I found an old knife in the alley behind the school. Alone, without friends, I taught myself to use it; modeling on the soldiers I watched training in the city courtyard. It was my secret.”

She shifted her position, crossing her arms and then settling her hands back into her lap, as tense as before. She inhaled deeply, and then continued.

“There were rumors, about where all the girls went at twelve. The teachers and superiors told us it was another girl school, a prep school. But the other girls whispered about special lessons, about how to gain favoritism there. I wanted no part of what I heard.”

Riddick swallowed, keeping his face stoic. Another tough woman, another hard story, another survivor. And yet, this one had gotten him, had virtually kidnapped him, had bested him in all ways. And this one was Furion. He had thought that the Necro who sacrificed himself in the blistering sunlight on Crematoria was the last aside from him.

“I was taken there, on my twelfth birthday, a dining room with a long table and brass candelabras. The man at the table looked me over, called me a pretty girl and asked my teacher to leave the room. Then he sat next to me, put his hand on my knee, and I killed him and ran. I did whatever odd job I had to do after that, anything anyone would hire me for besides my body. Eventually I landed here.”

She sighed again, remorsefully. Then she stood and walked a few feet away, and stopped with her back to him.

“I lived here happily, for many years. I’ve lost track of exactly how old I am. Twenty seven, twenty eight maybe. Approximately one year ago I woke from a heart-wrenching dream, dead bodies and graves everywhere, and a beautiful, powerful woman giving an entreating speech to a man. She pressed her hand to his chest. When I awoke, I had this. It hasn’t gone away since. I know that man was you, Riddick. I heard her name you, and I heard her call to me in my dream. I’ve looked for you since.”

“Why?” Riddick managed to croak out. His throat was scratchy, his lips dry and cracked.

She stilled completely, drawing in quick breaths through her mouth and letting them out through her nose. Then she turned to him, strode quickly across the room and stood above him, looking down at him. He could make out her features then. Her eyes were fierce, a thick fire in them he couldn’t quite decipher. Her face was strong, her skin olive and her hair jet black. She had a deep, ragged scar marring her powerful features, running from her temple, down her cheek, and across the edge of her lips. It gave her a wild beauty.

“Because my mission, Riddick, my calling, is to help you repopulate the race. And my body will deny me no longer. I am, essentially, in heat. If your scent causes such a reaction as it does in me, I can only imagine what mine will do to you.”

Riddick couldn’t help himself; he laughed outright, his belly rolling with the force of his mirth, his rich chuckle filling the small room.

“Let me get this straight,” he said raggedly, his voice regaining some of its silkiness, “You want me to give you a baby?” and with that he laughed again.

She hadn’t moved, but her eyes took on a hard edge they didn’t have before.

“I have things to do outside. By the time you are able to move, I should have supper ready. Come and find me then. It may be easier for you to acquaint yourself with my smell outdoors,” she said softly, so low he almost didn’t hear it over his fading laughter. And with that she walked quickly out of the room.

“Shit, that’s the funniest thing I’ve heard in a long time,” he said to himself.