by Jules

PART SEVEN

Thirty-one

Dwarfed by the Tolliver, the skiff sat dark and silent, its ramp twisted and the paint on its sides marred by the fall.  Jack stretched out  in the co-pilot's seat, feet on the dashboard and tear-stained eyes fixed on the switches above.  The small craft had been claimed by Saeger Recovery, but it was the only place on the ship that felt like her own.   

Sitting in this seat her hand had brushed Riddick's fingers as she took over the throttle.   She'd slept, curled beside him on the cold, metal floor, safe and comfortable in the simple knowledge that he was there.   His blood was dried in dark streaks on the cabin floor because he'd almost sacrificed himself for her.  

Pack mentality. 

Jack thought of the mutt she used to sneak table scraps and the betrayal she'd felt when she found him eating out of the neighbor's hand.   It had only taken a few treats to win back the dog's attentions, but this time, she thought with an inward sigh, she just didn't have a bigger steak to wave.

The reflection in the windshield said it all.  Skinny, plain, flat as a board.   What little tan she'd gotten had faded quickly, leaving her pale as ever.   She missed her hair.  It had grown out some, but it was far from the long, blonde locks she'd sported before she ran away.   

Ran away, she snorted.  Ran, drove, flew, blew a big wad of her dad's cash on a ticket off-planet.   She thought about making her way back to Earth to see her mom, but that was the first place her old man would look.  And he would look.  Not with the concern of a loving father worried about his teenage daughter out on her own, but with the desperation of a man in danger of losing twenty-five million dollars.

The big ceiling lights snapped off and the whole bay was plunged into near-darkness.  Jack gasped and sat up straight.  She stayed still, straining to hear over the pounding of her heart.   No sound but her own breathing and the gentle hiss of the ventilation system.   She swallowed hard and held her breath.  Footsteps; faint, unhurried.  

Motion outside the windshield caught her eye and she stared, unblinking at someone moving deftly through the uneven piles of junk.  Moving like they could see.  Jack slid out of the chair and dropped into a crouch on the floor between the seat and the dashboard.      

The footsteps drew closer, then paused briefly, picking up a heavy, metallic scraping and banging as they continued toward the skiff.   Jack shivered involuntarily.  Did he know she was here?  His stride told her he was headed somewhere, but not in a hurry.  She thought about running, decided she'd never make it and receded as far beneath the dash as she could.

The broken ramp groaned as someone mounted it, and Jack, on her stomach, peered cautiously around the co-pilot's seat.  A dark shape paused, silhouetted in the hatchway as flashing, animal eyes swept the cabin.  Jack frowned.  Something was off.  

"Power."

One word in a voice that wasn't Riddick's, and dim light filled the tiny craft.  Jack's breath caught and she was struck by a moment of terror and confusion.  Bender leaned between the seats and flipped a few switches on the dashboard, then glanced down at her and smirked.  

"You lose a contact lens, kid?"

Jack pulled herself back into the seat and put her feet up, hoping she looked more relaxed than she felt.   "You freaked me out a little, that's all."

"Yeah," he nodded, setting down a battered metal toolbox.  "Sorry."

She shrugged.  "S'okay," she said.  "Why'd you turn the lights off?"

"Don't need 'em."

Bender nudged the box's latch aside and lifted the lid with his foot.

"Hand up that ring of keys, wouldja?" 

Jack looked inside and pulled out a mass of oddly shaped keys on a metal ring.

"Thanks."

He tried three or four before a panel in the ceiling opened and revealed a row of buttons and switches. He pushed a white, rectangular button that said "CUT-OFF", which prompted several small, red buttons to begin blinking.  Bender pressed the one marked "AFT" and the last two cabin lights winked out.  He kicked the toolbox along in front of him and limped back to the ramp.  

"How can you see back there?" she asked before she could stop herself.

Bender raised an eyebrow at her as he lowered himself to his knees, wincing slightly as they hit the cold metal.  "I think you know damn well how, sweetheart," he replied with a closed-mouthed, lopsided smile.

Jack flushed and swallowed hard.  "Yeah."  

She sat still and quiet as he fished through the box, pulling out tools and setting them on the deck.  Lifting a long wrench, he twirled it rapidly in one hand, then slid it into the space between ramp and fuselage.   Jack studied Bender as he worked, watching the play of muscles beneath his skin. His arms were thick, like the rest of him, lacking Riddick's definition but seeming no less powerful for it.  

He wore a pair of deteriorating blue jeans and a faded red t-shirt with the sleeves torn off.   Jack squinted to make out the tattoo high on his left arm.  The Grim Reaper with clouds of colored light and a field of stars in his flowing black robes.  He swung a wicked-looking scythe with both hands and flashed a humorless, skeletal grin.   Beneath it were the words, "Death Waits in the Dark".  The sight of it sent a chill up her spine.

The arm holes of his shirt were torn down far enough to allow her a glimpse of his rib muscles and a small, round birthmark just under his armpit.  She glimpsed something more just below it but forced herself to stop staring just as he cast a glance in her direction. 

"I wasn't messing with anything," she said, folding her hands in her lap.

"Didn't figure," he replied absently.

Jack found herself desperately wanting him to talk to her.  His presence put her at ease, just as Riddick's did, though it held for her the same underlying sense of fear.   She slipped from the seat to sit cross-legged on the floor near him.  

"Why doesn't the light hurt your eyes?" she asked, hoping she didn't sound like as big of an idiot as she thought she did.  "When you picked us up, it was really bright."

Yeah, way to go, Jackie Marie.  Very smooth.

"I got the deluxe job," he replied without looking up. 

"Cost a lot?"  

"Set somebody back about forty grand," said Bender.  He moved to another spot with the wrench and had to strain against it for a moment before it gave.  

Blinking, Jack recalled the price of Riddick's operation.

20 menthol Kools...

A worn, blue bandana, tied at the back, covered his hair and held it out of his face as he leaned down for a closer look at his work.  It reminded her of the migrant workers who used to gather on the corner to wait for the truck in her old neighborhood.  Somehow she doubted that Bender had ever made his living picking oranges.

There was a light patch of hair near his right temple that she hadn't noticed before.   Without thinking, she reached out to touch it.  Bender didn't stop her, and her fingers brushed it briefly before she realized what she was doing and pulled away.  

Jack tried to look unaffected.  "What happened there?" 

"You writin' a book?" Bender chuckled softly.

"Yeah," she smiled.

"Well, kiss my ass and make it a love story," he replied, nudging her knee playfully with the back of his hand.   Riddick had made the same  gesture with her more than once and she wondered briefly how they'd come to share it.   He exchanged the wrench for a curved set of pliers, pausing to meet her eyes before returning to his task.  "Shot in the head," he said simply.

Dumbfounded, Jack could only stare mutely for a long moment as he went to work with the pliers.   Finally, she made her voice work.  "Ouch."

He gave a short laugh and nodded.

"Never met anybody that got shot before," she said, adding, "Least not that I know of.  That how you got your limp?"

Bender nodded again.  "Among other things."

Her eyes fell on the tattoo, momentarily transfixed by the reaper's snarling skull and the points of flame in his eyes.  "Death Waits in the Dark?"

"Overgrown boy stuff," he said, smirking.  There was a pop and a hiss as he began to work the small connecting hoses loose.   "We figured it was a whole lot classier than 'Bad-Assed Motherfuckers." 

"Reggie told me you used to be a soldier," she said.  "Why did you quit?"

"Medical Discharge."  He was concentrating on his work with growing fierceness, and Jack began to think about changing the subject.  "They seem to think there's a limit to how many polymer parts a guy can have and still do the job." 

"I'm sorry."  Jack hoped it wasn't the wrong thing to say.  

"It was the right thing for them to do," he said plainly.   "I didn't think so at first, but when I couldn't remember who my best friend was in grade school, or what I'd had for breakfast that morning, I figured they knew what they were talking about."

"Did it get better?"

"After awhile."  

"Why didn't you go back?" she asked.  

Bender traded the pliers for a short, metal bar with ends coated in bright yellow rubber.  He lowered it into the gap and began to slowly pry the ramp away from the rest of the ship.

"Too old," he said.  "Too sore.  Too tired."  Bender paused, wiping his forehead with the back of his hand.  He held the top of the bar and leaned back, bracing a foot against the back wall.  Straining, he managed to widen the space between the ramp and the rear of the skiff.  Jack craned her neck for another glimpse of the marks on his side.  Numbers.  787-471-964.  

"You're not old," she said.  

He laughed out loud and tossed the steel bar on the deck.   "'Oh, darlin', you have no idea."  Leaning his hands on the edge of the deck, he studied the newly revealed hoses and bundles of wire.  "You wanna start at that end?" he asked, pointing.

Jack straightened.  "You're asking me to help?" she beamed.

Nudging the pliers toward her, he said, "Might as well."

Stretched out on his stomach, he dangled his arms to reach the wires below, dislodging a set with a flick of his wrist.  Jack watched him, then snatched up the pliers and followed suit, giving herself an inward pat on the back when the first hose came loose.  

"So, what's a nice girl like you doin' in a place like this?"  

Jack's heart skipped a beat but she recovered quickly.  "You know how I got here," she shrugged.

"That's a gal with a past talking if I ever heard one."

"A past?" Jack said, pushing aside panic.  "I'm fifteen years old, how the hell can I have a past?"

"Doesn't take long.  You don't wanna talk about it, I understand."

Eyes focused firmly on her work, Jack pressed her lips together until they ached to keep herself from talking.  She wanted to.  She hadn't talked, really talked to a soul since leaving home, afraid that if she spilled too much, somebody would find a way to send her back.  But Bender didn't seem to care one way or the other -- a perfect opportunity for her to keep her mouth shut.

Not that she was famous for taking those sorts of opportunities when they came her way.

"I ran away from home," she said suddenly, shocked by the sound of her own voice.    Bender nodded and kept working and before she could stop herself, she took a deep breath and continued.  "My dad is a great big asshole and so I just picked up and left.  I just never figured I'd get this far."  Her voice cracked and she pretended to clear her throat.  When Bender turned to look at her, she could tell he wasn't buying it.  

"Where were you headed?"

"Away from home," she shrugged.  "I didn't care where I went.  It seemed like a good idea at the time, ya know?  Empty the old man's wallet and see the world.   Make my own decisions, be master of my own destiny, all that bullshit."

"It's not bullshit.  You just got started young, is all."

"Look at me," she said, blinking as her eyes began to sting.  "Do I look like I belong out here on my own?"

He rolled onto his side and propped himself up on an elbow, tapping the pliers on the deck as he regarded her.  The cold, white flash of his eyes looked out-of-place beside the sad, gentle smile that lifted the corners of his mouth.  "You make friends with the right people, you'll be okay." 

"How do I know who the right people are?"

"Most of the time, you don't."

"I thought I did," she said, nodding.  "But I guess I was wrong."

"Why do you say that?"

"The right people don't do things to hurt you."

His gaze flicked briefly into the darkness, then back to her.  "Sometimes they do."

"It's so confusing," she sighed.  And she meant it.  "There were two guys who survived the crash, an escaped convict, a murderer, who everybody was afraid of..."  She licked her lips nervously, unsure exactly why, after the day's previous colossal screw-up, she was running off at the mouth, now.  "And the guy who was taking him back to prison, who everybody trusted to help get us out of the mess we were in.  So, the criminal saved our bacon and the other guy turned out to be a first-class jerk.  Not a big enough jerk to deserve what he got, but still, I thought he was a nice guy."  She snorted.  "I must be the worst judge of character ever born."

"It comes with experience, kiddo.  You'll get it."  

"Before I'm ninety?"

"Yeah, I think so," he chuckled softly.

"So, just because somebody does something shitty doesn't mean they're not your friend?" Jack tried not to sound too hopeful.

Bender nodded.  "It's the nice guys you gotta watch out for."

"Except for you, right?" she grinned.

"Yeah, well, naturally.  I'm a real prince."

Thirty-two

Trembling uncontrollably, Laila fumbled with the key to the gun locker, dropping it twice and gouging the metal surface of the lock before she managed to fit it in.  She flung the door open and stared wild-eyed at the hardware inside.  The rifles were too tough to conceal and too much for her to handle.  Kickback would throw her shot wide and she knew that if she missed, he wouldn't give her the time to take another.

At the back of the cabinet was a stainless steel box, like a small briefcase.  Pulling it toward her, she flipped down the latch and opened it.  Cappy's old pistol, the one he'd worn as a sidearm during his flights over United Persia and the rest of the war torn Middle East.  He'd taught her how to shoot with this gun, on a makeshift range on Darlington Flats, with broken drive pistons for targets.  She'd missed almost everything she'd aimed at and he'd told her that maybe she'd be better off leaving the shooting to him.  

Realization dawned with almost physical impact and her panic began to fade, replaced with a grim confidence.  Lifting the gun, she held its smooth, cold weight in her hand for a moment, then checked the clip and tucked it into the back of her shorts.  A quick glance around found her a flight jacket, one of Jasper's.  She slipped it on and felt around to make sure it covered the gun. Satisfied, she shut the locker and pocketed the key, then slipped from the room and headed for the quarters she and Cappy shared.

He was there, reading, glasses balanced on the end of his nose.  Laila offered him an uncertain smile, a false one that he would almost certainly see through.  But all he would see behind it is what she wanted him to.

"You alright, darlin'?" he asked, closing the book and setting it on the table beside him.

She nodded, tears springing to her eyes to augment her carefully crafted expression of repressed fear and sadness.  "I'm fine.  You're off early."

"Manny had some work to do, said he'd sit in.  I wasn't about to say no."

Laila smiled sadly, wiping furtively at the corner of her eye.

Without pause, Cappy took the bait.  "Did I do something?"

She shook her head and kicked off her shoes, making a show of starting to undress.  He continued to regard her, puzzled, then as he reached to retrieve the book, she slid the gun further to the front and let the jacket fall open just enough to let him have a glimpse of the shining metal underneath.  

The puzzlement shifted toward concern.  "Why do you have that, Laila?" 

With a deep breath, she met his eyes and fought back the fear and the vestiges of love that had held her to him for so long.  The ring on her finger felt suddenly hot, as though it had been held in a fire.  But her resolve held, and on cue the tears overflowed, leaving wet tracks on her cheeks and falling from her quivering jaw.

"What is it, Love?"  He was on his feet suddenly, sweeping her into his long arms and pulling her close.  The gun slipped from her waistband and her mind raced.  Her revelation of Riddick's identity might not be enough to send Cappy gunning for the man.  She needed more.

"There's something I haven't told you," she began.  "Because I was afraid you'd be angry with me."  Laila paused to study his reaction, then took a deep, shuddering breath and continued.  "One of the men we rescued..."

His eyes blazed and he held her at arms' length, fingers pressing almost painfully into her flesh.  "What happened?" 

She raised her glistening eyes to his.  "Robert Stroud," she said.  "His name's Riddick.  He's an escaped convict, a murderer."

"How do you know, Laila?"

Cappy's confusion was clear, but she didn't want him confused.  Uncertainty might make him stop to think and that could be dangerous to both of them.  She reached for something that would harden his resolve.

"He raped me," she sobbed.  The sudden explosion of anger in Cappy's eyes terrified her and she was relieved when he pushed her away and picked the gun up off the bed where he'd tossed it.  Laila continued as he popped the clip, checked it, and chambered a round.  "He said if I told anyone he'd kill us all, because he didn't need us to fly the ship.  John, wait..."

Slipping herself between him and the door, she put her hands on his chest and tried vainly to stop him.  "Don't do this," she pleaded.  "Please, John.  He's a killer."

He paused just long enough to make her think she'd convinced him to stop.  A small part of her almost hoped she had.  But then he pushed her aside and threw open the door, stalking quickly down the hall with the gun nearly hidden in his big hand.

Laila watched him until he disappeared, then she turned and dashed down the hall toward Bender's quarters, not bothering to wipe the tears from her eyes.  If she was going to convince him to protect her, she would need all the help she could get.

*                    *                    *

Jack found him in the mess room, staring down a cup of coffee as though it had somehow angered him.  It struck her as funny, but she held it down to a smile.  The last thing she wanted to do was act like a goof.  Without looking up, he reached beneath the table and  produced Reggie's copy of Les Miserables.  Jack froze.

"You dropped this,"  he said, holding it out to her.  When she made no move to take it, Riddick set the book gently on the table and slid it across, leaving his hand on the cover for a moment before pulling away.  "Have a seat."

Panic dried her throat and she nodded wordlessly, sitting despite a sudden urge to flee the room.  He knew, at least, that she'd been there, though perhaps not when.  She forced herself to meet his eyes.  Who was she kidding?  He knew.

"I--"

"We need to talk," he said, cutting her off sharply.  His eyes fixed on his hands, folded in front of him on the table.  "Somebody on this ship knows who I am."

Her heart clenched and suddenly there wasn't enough air in the room.  She thought of Reggie and that stupid piece of paper, kicked herself inwardly.   "I--I didn't--" 

"No," he said, voice low and even.  "I don't think you did."

I didn't mean to, she wanted to finish, but couldn't force the words from her mouth.

"Then how..?" she asked in a tiny voice.  All my fault all my fault all my fault...

He shook his head and uttered a short, humorless laugh.  "I don't know," he said.  "Gotta go with a dumb move on my part as most likely.  Doesn't matter.  What does matter is that it's dangerous to everyone for me to stay here."

Relief smoothed over her fears, but not for long.  "We're in the middle of nowhere," she said.  "Where the hell are we gonna go?"

Riddick was silent for a beat, then he raised his eyes, but not to meet hers.  Rather, they wandered over to fix on something near the sink with such intensity that she almost turned to follow his gaze.  

"What..?" Realization hit Jack with almost physical force.  She gaped at him, angry tears filling her eyes and spilling over unheeded.  "You're ditching me," she said flatly.   She stood, jerking away quickly when he reached across the table to stop her.

"Jack..."

"You can't just leave me here," she half-shouted at him.  "What am I supposed to do?"

"Imam's staying," said Riddick, standing slowly and making his way around the table.  "He'll watch out for you."

Shaking her head emphatically, she backed away.  "And who's gonna watch out for him?  You can't do this!"

"No choice, Jack."  

"Yes there is!"  She wiped impatiently at the tears beginning to stain her cheeks.  "Just take me with you!"

"You're not thinking," he said softly.

"I'm not thinking?"  she snapped, blinking at him.  "You're the asshole that's running off alone!"

In a single, swift motion, he caught up one of her arms and forced her back against the wall, leaning on the captured limb to keep her pinned there.  Jack struggled, making a fist of her free hand and swinging as hard as she could at his face.  He made no move to stop her and she connected with his jaw, feeling the shockwave all the way to her shoulder.

He cocked his head to the side and leaned his elbow against the wall above her.  "Feel better?" 

"Not yet," she spat, hauling back for another swing.  This time he caught her fist and held it.  

"What do you want?" he hissed.

"I want to go with you."

"No you don't," he countered.  "You haven't seen shit, and you don't know shit, Jack.  You'll only slow me down."

She shook her head, "You're wrong."

"Am I?  What do you know, Jack?"

"I know you."

"You keep saying that, but, see, you don't.  You don't know anything about me."  His eyes flashed, inches from her own, dark and soulless like a shark's.  She told herself it was only a trick of the light.  "I'm gonna tell you something now, and it's going to make you go away, understand?"

"I won't."

He watched her for a moment, close enough for her to feel the heat of his body and to smell the lingering scent of Laila's rose perfume.  The thought of the woman made her angry all over again, and more determined that nothing he could say would change her mind.

"I was leaving," he said plainly.  "I wasn't coming back.  In fact, when Fry showed up, I tried to talk her into coming with me instead of going back for you.  I didn't give a shit, Jack, and I'm not gonna start now."

Her mind reeled.  He'd said it like it was something to be proud of.  More important, though, he'd said it like he meant it and she was suddenly sure he did.  The tears started in earnest, now, blurring her vision, flooding over her cheeks and making her taste salt.

"You're a fucking coward," she sobbed.  She wrenched her arms from his grasp, or he let her go.  Jack wasn't sure and she didn't care, as long as he wasn't touching her, anymore.  The fire went out of her and it felt as though her limbs were made of rubber.  When she continued, her voice sounded impossibly small.  "You're everything Johns said you were.  I can't believe I ever thought you were anything else."

"I never pretended to be," he replied.  Turning away, he wiped his hands on his pants, then lifted the book from the table and studied the cover briefly before lobbing it at her.  She caught it and clutched it to her chest.  "Don't believe everything you read."

Riddick turned to go and froze.  Jack followed his gaze to the door and saw Cappy, face contorted with rage, a sleek, silver pistol gripped so tightly that his hand was white and trembling.   Jack pushed off the wall and launched herself between the two men as Cappy raised the gun and fired three shots in quick succession.  Her body sailed backward and collided with Riddick, taking them both to the floor.  

Thirty-three

The bay door slid open and Bender looked up from his work, leaning around the skiff's rear end for a look.  Two shadows filled the doorway, then stepped inside and revealed themselves.   His grease-streaked fingers tightened on the wrench he held.  Something about the way they moved told him they weren't here to help.

"Marty!" Reggie's voice echoed through the cavernous bay.  

Twirling the wrench in one hand, he stepped around the ship and strode toward them through the partially sorted wreckage, watching as the women cursed and stumbled their way along.  

"Lights!" Laila shouted hoarsely.  

The big overheads snapped on and Bender felt a twinge as pupils that had widened in the darkness constricted suddenly.  He cursed and fixed his eyes on Laila, shaking his head.  "What the fuck is your problem?" 

"We've got some serious trouble," Reggie answered for her.  "One of our passengers is a killer."

Bender nearly laughed out loud.  Instead, he shrugged and said, "So am I, who gives a shit?"

They regarded him with almost comical surprise.  "I'm serious," said Reggie.

"Me, too," nodded Bender, sliding the wrench through his belt and shoving his hands in his pockets.  "What makes this guy so fuckin' special?"

"Marty!"  Reggie glared at him.  Laila, silent until now, fixed her dark eyes on him and poked a finger at his chest as she spoke.

"He's gonna come after me, you stupid bastard," she snarled.   "I found out who he was."

Reggie looked mildly puzzled and opened her mouth to speak, but Bender cut her off.  "How?"

"What?"

"How'd you find out, Laila?  He talk in his sleep?"

She tried to slap him but Bender caught her arm mid-swing and spun her around, then pushed her away.  Stumbling, Laila managed to regain her balance before she fell.  

"Marty, please," said Reggie, stepping between them.  "I had my suspicions, too, I just...I should have voiced them earlier.  Look, Laila told Cappy and he's going after the guy, will you just--?"

Instinct beat anger but only by a nose and his hand shot out, gripping Laila's arm roughly.  "What the fuck did you do?" he growled.  Not waiting for an answer, he shoved her aside and bolted for the door.

His last conversation with Riddick loomed large in his mind.   

What's the score with us, Boss?

The score.  He'd given it a lot of thought since his former charge's reappearance.  He wasn't angry.  Disappointed, more like.  In Riddick for running, in himself for not stopping him.  Years, bullets and  high-priced painkillers hadn't been able to dull that particular ache, even when he couldn't remember what caused it.  

That's up to you.

He thought about the Tolliver, fueled and waiting, with enough supplies to reach the nearest outpost.  All he had to do was take Riddick into custody and then manage things from there.  Easy enough, unless the man did something stupid first, then it was his responsibility to...to what?  

Are you prepared to stop me?

Legs protesting, Bender pounded down the corridor, slowing so suddenly when he reached the living area of the ship that Reggie almost plowed into him.  

"Where are they?" she asked.  He didn't reply, just trotted silently through the corridor that divided the ship down the middle, listening.   Reggie's footsteps; the soft rush of air from the ventilation system; the constant hum of the engines, the one that could drive you nuts if you didn't learn to tune it out.   

There.  Not the sound so much as the vibration of Riddick's voice, suddenly obscured by Cappy's lengthy strides, echoing on the deck somewhere up ahead.  Ignoring the throbbing in his hip and the pain shrieking up from his knees, Bender sprinted down the hall.   The footsteps halted and the air was shattered by three gunshots in quick succession.  Three.  Even an older weapon would hold more than that.  He considered reasons for the cease fire, none of them pleasant.

Rounding the corner, he spotted Cappy's lean form in the doorway of the mess room, arms limp at his sides, a pistol held loosely in his hand as though he might drop it.  Sudden, heavy footsteps pounded the floor of the room beyond and Cappy raised the gun, finger tensing on the trigger.  

His surprise was clear when Bender slammed into him full force, clamping a hand on the gun and tearing it away as Cappy stumbled and fell hard on the deck.  Riddick burst through the doorway and Bender blocked him, diverting the other man's momentum and forcing him into the far wall.   

In the seconds it took Riddick to gather himself, Bender trained the gun on the lights and fired, plunging the hallway into darkness and ensuring that if there had to be a scrap, it would stay between the two of them.

Snarling, Riddick tried to charge past.  Bender sent the gun spinning down the hall, out of reach, and tackled him.  He didn't stop, and though Cappy had regained his feet, he was unable to avoid Riddick's fist as it arced through the darkness.  The blow caught Cappy in the temple and sent him sprawling.   

Bender threw his weight against Riddick and forced him back.  "That's enough!"

Riddick swung at him; a quick jab with his right that Bender avoided easily, followed by a left that dipped low and grazed his ribs.  They exchanged several quick blows, blocking most but taking a few.  None of them landed with enough force to make either man give up an inch of ground until Riddick dropped a left under Bender's guard and thrust the heel of his palm hard into the other man's hip.   There was a loud pop and Marty staggered as artificial bones were jarred and artificial tendons strained to keep them in place. 

"Dammit, stop!"

If Riddick heard, he gave no indication.   Instead, he pressed the attack, ducking low and trying to sweep Bender's wounded leg from beneath him.  Marty side-stepped, but not quickly enough.  The toe of Riddick's boot connected with his ankle and lifted it into the air.  Bender cart wheeled as he fell and used the momentum to whip his other leg around sharply. The top of his foot hit Riddick square in the jaw and spun him into the wall.

Bender hit the deck hands-first and rolled, coming up on his good leg as Riddick tried to rush past him.  Sliding as he changed direction, Bender nearly went down but got his feet beneath him again and pushed off the wall.  He swung a wide, arcing backhand that Riddick blocked only to get nailed by the left that followed it.  Riddick answered with a hard elbow to the other man's temple and Bender stumbled.  As he fell, his hand shot out, slipping three fingers under the waistband of Riddick's pants and pulling him to the floor.  

They hit hard and Bender landed squarely on his injured hip.  His leg went numb and sparks danced in his vision but he kept his hold on Riddick even as the younger man straddled him and pressed cold steel to his throat.

*                    *                    *

"You wanna kill him, you better kill me, first," said Bender hoarsely.  

Riddick's breath was harsh and the hand holding the knife trembled as he looked down at his former captain.  Their eyes locked and Riddick's resolve threatened to falter.  They held no fear.  No anger.  Just the same cold, blue calm he knew shined in his own.

"He shot Jack," said Riddick flatly.   "He tried to shoot me and he shot her, instead.  Still wanna stop me?"

"Jeezus," muttered Bender, blinking sweat from his eyes.  Then, "Kill him and I can't help you, Riddick.  You kill him, that means you're still a murderer, and I cannot in good conscience allow you to walk away from here."

"What if he deserves it?"  

Marty shook his head.  "It was a mistake.  He was trying to kill you, which is entirely within his right, just like it says on the poster."

Much as it rankled, Riddick had to admit the man was right.  Cappy came gunning for him.  Maybe it was for the money; maybe to protect his crew; hell, it was obvious Laila had run off at the mouth, maybe it was just good old-fashioned jealousy.  Regardless, Bender's intentions were clear, and fair.

Riddick looked up as footsteps pounded the deck in their direction.   

"Other folks'll be here soon.  Make up your mind."

Another glance at Bender and he stood, offering the man a hand up, which he took gratefully.   Riddick took a deep breath, folded the knife and held it out.  

"I'm trusting you, here, Boss," he said.  When Bender didn't reach for it, Riddick cocked an eyebrow.  

"Just in case."

Nodding, Riddick slipped it in his pocket.  Glancing into the mess room, he saw Reggie bent over Jack, holding a wad of torn cloth to the girl's chest and speaking to her softly.  She looked up briefly, gave him a reassuring nod, and continued her work.  He wanted to go to her, tell her he was sorry.  But he wouldn't leave Bender to explain himself alone.  Like the man said, just in case.  

Three forms approached in the near-darkness.  Riddick made out Jasper, a rifle held at the ready.  Manny pulled a pistol from behind his back but didn't chamber a round.  His posture indicated that he was reluctant to use it.  Imam was unarmed, hands already out in a calming gesture.  

"Emergency lights," said Bender.  Several fixtures flickered to life in a line down the center of the hall, bathing them in dim, reddish glow.

Jasper knelt beside Cappy and looked him over.  "What happened here, Martin?"

Bender cleared his throat, and when he spoke, Riddick recognized that old tone of voice, the one that meant no shit would be taken, every order would be obeyed and every word believed absolutely -- even if it wasn't.

"Captain Saeger mistook this man for someone else and took extreme action, resulting in a shooting.  He refused to listen to reason, forcing me to disarm him and render him unconscious.  That's what happened here."  

He paused, gauging reactions before he continued.  Sure they knew it was bullshit, but nobody looked like they were going to argue.

"And here's what's going to happen, now," he said.  "Jasper, I'm sure you'll agree that Mr. Stroud's continued presence on the ship is not in anyone's best interests.  Here's what I propose.  In my locker is a case holding twenty million riyal .  Consider it and my take off this trip a rental payment on the Tolliver, which will be waiting for you when the Maiden reaches port in New Tangier."

Riddick turned to look at Bender, making no effort to hide his surprise.

"I'm sorry, Martin, I can't let you..." Jasper began.

"Let them go, Jasper."  Reggie stood in the doorway, wiping blood from her hands with a dish towel.  "This is trouble we don't need.  And maybe if everyone keeps their mouths shut no one will have to tell the authorities that Captain Saeger flew off the handle and wound up shooting a fourteen year old girl."

With a small, shocked sound, Imam glanced from Reggie to Riddick, who simply nodded.  Reggie saw the exchange and added, "She'll be fine."

"We're leaving," said Bender.   

The sound of a single gunshot pierced the air, and Riddick felt the bullet whiz by his ear.  Whirling, they saw Laila, holding the gun Bender had taken from Cappy and wiping tears from her eyes with the other hand.  

"You're not going anywhere," she said in a low, quivering voice.  "Either of you."

Thirty-four

"You've got to be fucking kidding," muttered Bender.  

Laila narrowed her eyes and leveled the gun at his head.  "Do I look like I'm kidding, Marty?"

Reggie retreated into the doorway, but when Bender opened his mouth to reply, she spoke first.  "Just put it down, Laila.  There's been enough--"  

"Shut up!" Laila snapped.  The barrel swung from Bender to Riddick, who stood his ground, his expression unreadable.  "You don't know what he did to me."

"Nothing you didn't want me to."

"Fuck you," she hissed.  Her eyes flicked past to the three men who stood behind them, fixing on Jasper.  "Don't let him go," she said, nodding toward Bender.  "He just wants the money for himself." 

Jasper shook his head.  "I don't care who this man is, I know he's not worth more than what Martin's dropping to get him out of here.  There's  more to it than that."  

She looked frightened.  Riddick wasn't sure what she was trying to accomplish, but he could see in her eyes the dawning realization that their reasonable behavior was making it difficult, if not impossible.  "He's a murderer," she said.  "He's killed fourteen people.  And you're just going to let him go?"

"Uh, how exactly do you know all this?" asked Manny, speaking up at last.  "Or am I the only schmuck that--?" 

"She intercepted a transmission," said Reggie, incredulous.

Laila turned to look at her, first wide-eyed, then propping up the front of her anger again, though far less convincingly than before.  

Reggie continued, stepping out of the doorway and advancing despite the protective arm that Bender put in front of her.  "I should have said something earlier, though I'm not sure things wouldn't have ended up in this same place.  I found paperwork from the crash.  Authorization forms for transporting a prisoner.  I sent for additional information but I never got it.  Now I know why."

"And you didn't think this was information we needed to know?" blinked Manny.  

"Sorry," shrugged Reggie.  

"Yeah, well, that's what we get for picking up hitchhikers," muttered Manny.  With a quick look at Imam, he added, "No offense."

"None taken."

"We're junk men, not mercenaries," Manny continued.  "I say no harm done and let them go."

Jasper wasn't convinced.  "I don't pretend to know the circumstances of your crimes," he said to Riddick.  "But I know that I would not want to be responsible for setting you loose to commit others."

"He's paid his debt to society," said Bender.  Riddick looked at him, making no effort to hide his surprise.  "Society just doesn't know it, yet."

No one said a word as Marty and Jasper appeared to study one another for a long moment.  Finally, Jasper nodded.  "I don't know why you're doing it, but I'm going to trust you, Martin," he said, slinging the rifle.  

Backing away, Laila glanced at each of them.  "I can't believe you people are siding with a convict and a--"

"A decorated veteran?" said Reggie.  Bender turned and flashed her a quick smile.   "Look, Laila, I don't have time for any more of your bullshit.  I've got people to take care of because you sent Cappy off half-cocked, God only knows why, and it got them hurt."  She moved slowly toward Laila, waving off Bender when he tried to take her arm.  Her tone softened as she added,  "I'm with the guys on this.  They go their way, we go ours.  It's best for everybody."

The men tensed as she gently pried the gun from Laila's fingers and handed it to Marty.  Laila simply stood there looking shocked, but not nearly as much as she did when Reggie cocked back a fist and punched her, hard.   Her knees buckled and she landed in a heap on the deck, hands clamped to her nose.

"That was for Jack," said Reggie, scowling down at her.  Then, shaking out her hand and wincing, she turned and stepped between Bender and Riddick on her way back to the kitchen.   

Marty glanced at Riddick as she passed, sporting a pleasantly surprised look.  "I think I'm in love."

Riddick blinked at him mutely for a second, then turned and followed her.  

*                    *                     *

He paused at the door, reluctant to slip away.  He told himself it would be better if he left without saying goodbye.  

Better for who?

Stepping back inside, he approached the bed and gazed down at her sleeping form with unsuppressed fondness.   

Why did you do it?  Her voice as she'd asked was nervous, hesitant, afraid of the answer.  He'd responded honestly enough at the time.  Pack mentality.  It was true.  They'd needed one another; a source of stability and sanity in a time when both were in short supply.  Given time to think, he'd realized that the real answer was shorter but more complicated. 

He pulled up one of the rolling stools and sat, elbows on the bedrail.  "I'm gonna tell you something I've never told another soul," he whispered.  He paused then, searching for the words, or maybe just the guts to say them out loud.  

"Being an outlaw isn't nearly as romantic in practice as it is in theory," he said finally.  "I, uh, I've had a lot of time to think over the course of my life, and I've spent most of it wondering how I would've turned out...what things would've been like if I'd been raised by a family instead of an institution, if I never started boosting cars.  If I never killed Freddy Liston. Something tells me I'd have ended up in trouble, anyway, but part of me thinks it might have been different.  Sometimes all it takes is a single event to change a person for life.  I thought maybe I missed it, but now I'm not so sure." 

He drew a deep breath and sighed as he folded his arms on the rail and set his chin atop them. 

"I'm tired, Jack," he said.  "All the way to my bones.   Tired of running  from guys worse than I am who just happen to be on the right side of the law.  Tired of gray walls and cold floors and bastards who would kill you for your breakfast.  That's not me.  It's what I deserve, maybe, but -- I did it to myself, I know.  Bad decisions, worse reactions.  I thought it was a line you could only cross once.  Never occurred to me that I could go back.  And the one time I was offered the chance...I screwed up and lost it."  Riddick watched her silently for a long moment.  "You make me wish I could get it back."

He picked up her hand and held it, found himself wishing he had something to leave her.   But nothing belonged to him.  Not even the clothes he was wearing.  

"Bus is leaving, Dickey."  Bender's voice, low and quiet, the kind of hushed tone people use in church.  Riddick gave a short grunt of laughter.  How in the hell would he know?

"Right there," he replied without turning.  Wordlessly, Bender departed, his limp more pronounced than before. As his footsteps receded, Riddick leaned over and lay a chaste, gentle kiss on Jack's pale lips.  Drawing back, he smoothed the blankets and brushed her cheek with the back of his hand.  

Why did you save me?

"Because I wanted to."

Thirty-five

Imam waited in the bay, watching as the Tolliver was put through a hurried pre-flight examination.   His eyes slowly scanned the loosely ordered rows of wreckage, searching for something familiar.  He  picked out a looming mound of chests and suitcases, all that remained of those to whom they'd belonged.  His possessions could easily have come to rest among them if not for his companions.  And God's mercy.  

His journey toward New Mecca had brought him to another destination altogether in more ways than one.  When he'd departed it was with the belief that he was bound for a place that would alter him somehow, would make him a better man, a better Muslim.  Now he knew that kneeling on the stones before a shrine on a planet he'd never seen could not strengthen his faith more than the trip there already had.  He would arrive in New Mecca filled with faith in God and his fellow man instead of seeking it and the thought pleased him.  His only regret was that others had sacrificed so much along the way.

When the doors slid open and Riddick entered, he felt a sudden emptiness , as though the man were already gone.   

Stopping before Imam, Riddick paused, shuffling uncertainly for a moment before he thrust out a hand.  The holy man took it, shaking firmly and holding on for a long moment before he let go.

"I'm going to miss you, Father."

"As will I," replied Imam.  Smiling, he added, "And I will not forget you. Except, of course, when appropriate."

Riddick laughed out loud.  "Much appreciated."

"I owe you my life.  I will do what I can to allow you to live yours in peace should you so choose."

"You might owe somebody," said Riddick, shaking his head.  "But not me."

"As a favor for a friend, then."

Both men nodded their agreement, then stood silently for a time, watching lights blink on the Tolliver's pale gray hull.  

"Take care of her," said Riddick suddenly.  

Imam nodded.  "I will," he replied.  After a thoughtful pause, he added, "What shall I tell her?"

"Nothing."

The reply earned him a questioning look and Riddick continued.  "Nothing," he repeated.  "I'm gone and I didn't take her with me.   Anything else is going to sound like bullshit and letting her think that I didn't want to leave her is only going to inspire her to do something stupid.  She'll be angry, sure.  Maybe she'll even decide she hates me.  She's just a kid.  She'll get over it."

"Who are you trying to convince?"

Riddick snorted.  "Hell if I know," he shrugged.  

Clapping a hand on his friend's shoulder, Imam gave it a gentle squeeze. 

Riddick took a deep breath and extended a hand.  "Good luck," he said.  "Hope you get where you're going."

"In a way, my son, I am already there."

*                    *                    *

Ducking into the cockpit, Reggie paused to feel the low vibration of warming engines through the soles of her shoes.  It sent gooseflesh racing up her legs and she shuddered, hugging her arms to her chest and rubbing her shoulders as though to warm them.  She stepped in and stood as straight as she could, casting her eyes forward to the figure in the pilot's seat.

Colored lights on the dashboard outlined Bender's bare arm in blue and red as he reached toward switches on the ceiling.  Her eyes lingered on the curve where limb met shoulder, following the line as it led to his ribcage and vanished into his shirt.  She wondered if he was cold.

The chair slid back suddenly on the rails that stretched to the rear of the cabin and she started.  Bender looked up at her, bright eyes tinted by the dash lights.  

"Something I can do for you, Doc?" 

Reggie flushed, disconcerted by her own reaction.   Marty set a hand on the wall and hauled himself from the seat with a grunt of effort.  Once on his feet, he shuffled a bit before he seemed to find his balance.  The light in his eyes warmed as he looked down at her and somehow she found her voice.

"I should have a look at that," she said, nodding downward.  The heat in her face intensified as she considered her words.   "I mean, y--"

He folded his arms over his chest and leaned back against the wall, eyes still fixed on her.  "I know what you mean," he said.  "I'm fine."

"Are you sure?  Who knows how long it'll be before you have the chance to see a doctor, and --"

"Is that why you came up here?"

"I, well, I, basically.  Sure.  Yes," she managed.  "It would be negligent of me to allow you to--"

He watched her stammering and chuckled softly.

"What?" It was almost a squeak and she kicked herself inwardly for letting him get to her this way.   He raised an eyebrow and smiled at her.  Not mocking, or at least she didn't think so.  It occurred to her suddenly that she really wasn't altogether certain why she had come.

For a long moment he stood quietly, regarding her as though it were her turn to speak.  Maybe it was.  "Why are you doing this, Martin?" she blurted, surprising herself.  "You're not a criminal."  

"How do you know?" he shot back.

"I've seen your record."

"Not all of it's accessible by the public, you know."

She persisted.  "Why are you going?"

"Long answer or short answer?" he said, stepping toward her.

Reggie pretended not to notice his proximity, though he was now close enough for her to smell the sweat that had cooled on his skin.   "Whichever one you've got time for."

"Redemption," he said simply.

"Too short," she replied.

"That's what I've got time for."  

She stared at him for a moment, then shrugged.  "You're right, Marty," she said, turning for the door.  "You don't owe me any explanations.  I don't even know why the hell I--"

"I made a mistake," he said quickly.  "A big one.  I can't pass up the chance to make it right."

Reggie stopped and leaned against the doorway.  "And you think you can just do that?"

Bender nodded.  "I know I can," he said.  "That what you came to ask me?"

Ten months aboard the Maiden.  Ten months determined to be professional and succeeding because of the invisible barrier she'd carefully erected between herself and her crewmates.  Suddenly all she could think of were the cardboard heroines on the covers of her romance novels -- dramatic poses, flowing tresses, breasts threatening to burst from artistically loosened corsets.  She almost laughed out loud at the image until she realized that Bender was still waiting for her to answer.

"I don't know, Martin," she said, thinking as she spoke.  "Something just... happened."  The answer came to her more quickly than the words to explain and for a moment she could do nothing more than blink at him and make meaningless gestures with her hands.  

He watched her, his amusement turning slowly into something Reggie wasn't sure she recognized.

"I heard what you said, back in the hallway," she said, her voice cracking.  "You risked your life to help a guy who was trying to beat the hell out of you--"

Bender looked puzzled even as he chuckled, "Was beating the hell out of me." 

His laughter drove her fear aside, but the way the light turned his eyes two different colors, together with the way they were fixed on her, made her nervous.  It struck her suddenly that she was meeting his eyes with the same tenacity as he met everyone else's.     

"It struck me, is all," she said, her voice sounding unfamiliar.  "After everything that's happened...that I don't really know anyone, here, not really, and that kind of, it just...you...oh to hell with it."

He'd stepped close enough, and Reggie reached out, twisting the fingers of both hands in the front of his shirt and pulling herself up to him.  She took a deep breath and pressed her lips to his, closing her eyes and leaning into the kiss as she felt him respond.  There was hesitation in his movement but finally his arms wrapped around her, one warm, open hand resting on the small of her back.  

They stayed that way for a long time, until heavy footsteps echoed in the corridor and Reggie pulled away with a gasp.  She fumbled nervously with her hands as Bender gaped at her, smoothing out his rumpled shirt and then tugging at the hem of her own.  Blushing furiously, she raised her eyes to meet his.  Barely.  

"Good luck, Marty," she said breathlessly.  "I, uh, I'll be seein' you around."  

With that, she dashed from the cabin, and straight into Riddick.

"Whoa!" he said, catching her before she fell.  "What's the...?"

"'Scuse me, sorry," she said quickly.  Regaining her balance, she forced herself to stand still long enough to speak to the men.  "Um, you guys take care of each other, okay?  Gotta go."

Then she was gone, her footsteps fading aft.  Riddick stepped into the forward cabin and raised an eyebrow at Bender, who blinked at him for a moment before speaking.

"Don't ask."  

Reggie joined Imam and Manny on the deck, where the heat from the engines was causing the air to shimmer.  Bender's voice filled the air as the whine of the engines grew in pitch.

"Engaging close maneuvering thrusters.  Everybody back up."

When everyone had retreated to the rear of the bay, the Tolliver lifted gracefully into the air as the ramp rose and the landing gear retracted.  The ship spun as it backed toward the inner doors, facing outward by the time it reached them.  The shuttle settled in and the inner doors slid slowly shut behind it, setting off a voice alarm and several red flashing lights in the bay. 

"Stand clear -- inner bay doors closing.  Stand clear -- system preparing for decompression.  Stand clear..."

The floor shuddered beneath their feet as the Tolliver locked down.  The three of them stood still, watching wordlessly until the lights flashed green and the inner doors opened to reveal an empty chamber.

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THE CREW of the DEATH MAIDEN

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