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Sight Unseen	By : ehiltebe Category: M through R > Pitch Black Views: 2323 -:- Recommendations : 1 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I don't own Riddick, Pitch Black, or any of the characters from that universe, nor am I making any money off this. All I have is Eileen...

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Sight Unseen

A Chronicles of Riddick Alternate Universe

Chapter Three

Crematoria

They’d made a big mistake, locking her in her own cabin during the trip to whatever prison they’d decided on. Jack—no, Kyra, for the time being—had loaded herself for the biggest damned bears she could think of. Everywhere she could hide a weapon, she had. The brunette would have liked a pair of boots similar to her adoptive sister’s but the originals had only just been finished, so she’d have to make do.

The stench inside the hangar, its tightly-closed doors, and the temperature told her that Toombs and his two little buddies had chosen Crematoria for her. It was one of the few triple-max prisons left, and Rick had never been there, though he’d heard about it.

Well, it wouldn’t be a triple anymore if he’d been there. Bastard was more slippery than a greased weasel when he wanted to be.

She waited patiently while Toombs dickered with the warden over how much they would get for her. Patiently, and making sure to act like she saw nothing while she was casing the place. It had taken her a while to get the hang of doing that without moving her eyes. Typical piece-of-shit government NIMBY facility. The guards didn’t appear to wash often, or shave more than twice a week. And more than a couple were severely out of shape, despite the weight bench taking up a fair section of the control room.

The three mercs left, grumbling over the mere 150,000 UDs they’d received for delivering her. They certainly wouldn’t be able to sell the ship; her sister and the man the older woman considered her brother had seen to that. So they’d have to settle. The warden and his guards, from their comments, had decided to settle for something else entirely.

“She may be trouble, Boss.” A heavy-set, stupid looking man with ‘Petrov’ stenciled on his shirt ogled her from where he’d draped himself over the barbell. “Should break her in before we hand her over to the prisoners.” His Standard was as heavily accented as his body was overweight.

“Yes, good idea, Anatoli.” The warden smirked.

“I call dibs,” said a lanky, bald man. His fellow guards did nothing to stop him as he approached Jack. She tensed; even with her hands cuffed behind her back, she could defend herself. “Gonna have some fun with you, Miss Kyra.”

Right. She had to be Kyra, not Jack. Tough, ruthless… violent. With a tiny twitch, the little dagger in her wrist sheath dropped into her hand. The man came closer, leaning toward her.

Striking as swiftly as a snake, she bit the asshole’s ear hard, tasting blood. The hand with the knife came partway around her side, and she twisted her body to quickly stab the man. Then three of the other guards tackled her.

“You mother-humpin’ bitch!” The one she’d hurt staggered back, one hand covering his ear and the other clamped over a dark, wet patch on his shirt. Despite the weight pinning her to the floor, Kyra struggled to reach him again, teeth bared and a growl issuing from her throat—one that would have sounded much like her sister’s, if she’d been paying enough attention to it to realize. Neither did the single lock of dark, curly hair that fell in front of her face distract her. Green eyes burned with hatred.

“You think you’re some kinda animal, suka?” Another guard shouted his question over the commotion. Someone pushed a metal box on casters into the control room. They positioned it right in front of her, and the blade was wrenched from her grasp as a single sliding panel rose. “Get in there!” The handcuffs fell away, but instead of showing the bastards where she’d hidden any more of her weapons, the brunette scrambled inside the moment her captors stopped squashing her. The simple door slammed down behind her, leaving a few holes in the metal as the only source of light.

The cage rattled along the floor, then paused just before a chorus of howls and animal screams assaulted her ears. The cries definitely didn’t come from humans, but somehow they sounded more distressed than angry. And the sounds touched something deep inside Kyra, a tiny flame nurtured by her five years with Rick and Ei—no, Lyra.

“Act like an animal, an’ we’ll slot you up like one.” A chain rattled, then the end of the box banged against metal and its gate rose. She sat still; they’d have to force her to do what they wanted.

After a long pause, the sharpened ends of metal poles came through the box’s vents, jabbing erratically to ‘encourage’ her exit. Maulsticks, according to the man who’d become a big brother to her. Nasty, hammer-like weapons favored by slam guards throughout the known universe. She twisted and turned to avoid the points, then grabbed a shaft. One sharp pull wrenched it from the man’s hands, and the follow-up shove rammed the other end into something that made him yelp.

Hearing a gun being cocked, she decided she’d done enough damage for her first few hours and scuttled into the slightly larger space beyond the box’s door. Bars descended quickly behind her, the metal crate moving so that the dark-skinned guard could get a padlock on the cage. She kicked, trying to force the gate open, but the lock still closed, confining her.

Kyra scooted back to lean against the rock wall as the men left. The warden and his boys probably expected her to be cowed by her temporary neighbors when they came back for her, but the noise didn’t bother her. Instead, she rested her head in her hands, hair cascading over her knees.

How long could she protect herself from would-be rapists with the weapons on her person?

How long would it take Lyra and Rick to find out where she was?

~*~

The big female paced in her enclosure, her mate and half-grown cub staying out of her way as her silvery eyes carefully watched the guest now sleeping in her mixed pack’s den. Once, her kind and the others caged around the new one would have stayed out of each other’s way, but necessity had made them one pack. She could feel the slight connection to the young one, yet it wasn’t quite right. The scents of two others clung to the coverings on the long-limbed cub’s body, one calling to her and her own, the other beckoning to the other half of the pack.

As usual, though, scents made no difference to the wrong ones, which kept snarling in their pen while her pack had quieted even before the visitor fell asleep.

No, she decided, this half-grown cub would not be treated as prey when they were released into the large pit. However distant the link, this was one of theirs, and they’d met far too few of them since she herself was very young. Granted, some of the reckless young males—not her own offspring, of course—would probably harass the little one, but the first to actually harm her would learn why she led the pack, not another.

Undercutter, en route to Helion Prime
(Riddick)

They say most of your brain shuts down in cryo-sleep. I shouldn’t need th’ mental mantra, not with my mate’s hand in mine, but th’ fuckin’ merc ship’s cryo sucks that badly.

“Brain shuts down in cryo-sleep.” Th’ feminine whisper has t’ be a figment of my imagination.

All but th’ primitive side.

“All but the primitive side.”

Th’ animal side.

“All but the Furyan side.” A whole damned planetary landscape unfolds in front of me: dark, tangled woods, pale reddish sky, fuckin’ thickets of gravestones… all centered on a woman who looks kinda familiar. “Some of us still remember the true crime that happened here on Furya.”

So Ei—Lyra’s mother wasn’t just tryin’ t’ create sympathy with her massacre story. Prob’ly a marker for her somewhere in this mess.

“For her parents, and for yours as well… for all our dead.” Th’ woman shakes her head. “And once you wake—truly wake—you’ll remember, too.”

Th’ vista vanishes as if it was never there, th’ Flattery C-19’s half-assed cryo releasin’ me as th’ cockpit’s radiation shields withdraw. Sunlight pours in, an’ I flick my girl’s shades down t’ cover her eyes with one hand while I bring my own down with th’ other. I slip into th’ pilot’s couch a second before th’ comm system crackles t’ life.

“Helion Prime is on Alert Condition Four.” Whatever th’ fuck that means.

“Unrecognized craft!” A sleek fighter draws up alongside. “You need to follow me to Spaceport Six for security inspections.” Great. More bullshit t’ deal with. Th’ very last thing we need at th’ moment.

“Hey! Do you hear me? Follow me to Spaceport Six, now!” Noddin’ at th’ fighter jock playin’ Flight Control, I take th’ ship down a few meters, then side-slip left, getting’ directly under th’ other vessel. A brief tug on th’ control yoke brings th’ two hulls together roughly, damagin’ th’ fighter so it has t’ slow while th’ pilot tries t’ keep it airborne.

“Mmm.” My woman unfolds a jump seat near my elbow as she hums. “Gettin’ through port when all our papers’re on th’ Den woulda been tough. Waste of time.” Lyra doesn’t need t’ mention that every day we take is another day Kyra spends in whichever slam Toombs picked out for her.

I have t’ think of ‘em by their pseudonyms now; hell, I insisted that they have ‘em in th’ first place. Can’t have their legal names associated with mine, which protects our courier service work an’ th’ cases Lyra looks into for MM&T. I simply can’t let myself slip up.

Despite my heavily-polarized wraparounds, Helion Prime’s sands reflect enough light t’ make me acutely uncomfortable. My mate understands without a word passin’ between us, navigatin’ an’ givin’ me quiet directions. We eventually set down on a dune not far from th’ outskirt of New Mecca. A conveniently labeled remote—mercs couldn’t pour piss outta a boot without printed instructions—lets us lock down th’ C-19 before we leave, an’ it shimmies into th’ sand t’ camouflage itself. Pretty handy feature.

Donnin’ th’ dark cloaks Toombs had stashed in th’ undercutter, we start walkin’ toward th’ city.

(Lyra)

We stopped at the first public directory we found so I could look up Abu al-Walid—the imam, or ‘holy man,’ we’d brought off that distant nightmare planet, along with the three boys under his care at the time. There’d been a certain strain between me and him from the start, which had gotten worse when it became obvious that Rick and I had paired off. But when he’d tried to force Jack to disembark with him here, I’d nearly snapped. Once I’d rescued her, the then-twelve girl had locked herself inside the cabin my mate and I had been sharing, and didn’t emerge until we’d gotten into the takeoff queue.

The man had risen in the world, I noted absently as my fingers danced across the sensitive touch-panel screen. Married, and a member of the Helion Council. That made the incredibly high bounty a little less surprising. But why had the Council signed off on the deal?

Next, I scanned the previous month’s news. The capture of one of ‘Riddick’s accomplices’ had to have been a big story. And I’d guessed right; seemed that Toombs had mouthed off about it to someone. She’d been sent to Crematoria, so we needed to figure out how to get there, get in, grab Kyra, and get out. But that could be done while we were on the move.

Finally, I hunted down a back door into the local law enforcement database and activated a ‘Be On the Look Out’ program that Jamie had helped me encode for the Den. Part of it would go viral, downloading into every ship that tapped into the planetary security network. And every time one of those vessels made port, a copy of the BOLO would go into the network there, spreading it to more ships. The cycle would continue until one of two things happened: either it reached every place settled by humans, or I got into another database and entered the deactivation code.

“Done.” Three strips of flimsi emerged from the directory’s printer, and I pulled out the map before passing the others to Rick. Nearly hidden by the edge of his hood, one corner of his mouth twitched up. Closest I’d seen him get to a smile with anyone but our pack present and conscious.

The classical Islamic architecture in the al-Walids’ neighborhood spoke of deeply religious Muslims with very comfortable incomes. I doubted any of the women in those homes had a job, or left their homes without at least covering their hair. And Abu had wanted to force Jack into the same lifestyle.

She’d have run off within six months, at most, but probably closer to two.

The lockpicks hidden in my belt buckle made quick work of the imam’s simple security, and we slipped inside, deliberately leaving the deadbolt unlocked. Intricately-carved shutters kept the interior dim enough for our sensitive eyes. While my partner climbed the stairs in ghost-like silence, I found a basin of water beneath them and carefully splashed a bit on my face. Then I did a quick check of the ground floor, as my mate was doing on the level above.

We’d walked into a spacious living area, scattered shelves full of books and knickknacks between low, cushion-strewn seats. One doorless archway led to a kitchen with all the bells and whistles, the tantalizing aroma of half-baked cookies coming from the oven. Through another door, I discovered a large, airy room with high-grade laundry machines, a fancy sewing setup, and shelves lining one wall with bolts of fabric in a wide variety of colors and patterns.

So he allowed his wife to do something that resembled a job. If she was skilled, she probably made clothing for her neighbors. Shaking my head, I moved back into the main room as Rick came down the stairs. He ran a hand over the dark stubble that had grown in while we were in cryo, and I pointed toward the basin.

I sat on a couch, then turned and stretched out on it as I listened. Over the faint scratching sound my lover’s blade made on his scalp, I could hear a shower running. That explained why I hadn’t run into the missus.

The heavy front door creaked as it was opened and then closed. I tensed, tilting my head in that direction.

“Did you know all your doors were locked?” The imam froze in mid-step, eyes flicking back and forth between my now-visible face and the shadows under the stairs. Rick calmly continued shaving, rinsing the blade in the metal bowl.

“We saved your life, holy man.” My arms folded as I turned to rest them across the arm of the couch, and I rested my chin on top. “At least twice. And this is how you repay us?”

“Sending mercs after us?”

Abu glanced around worriedly.

“Your wife…” An evil grin showed pearly teeth, flashing in the darkness as the whites showed all around the dark-skinned man’s eyes. “She’s in th’ shower.”

“We took nine people off that crazy bitch’s ship five years ago. You’re the only one who didn’t seem grateful for it.” I rose and prowled around the sofa on silent feet. “We trusted you. Did we make a mistake, Imam?”

“There is no simple answer.” His eyes begged as he lifted his arms to show that he bore no weapons. “Whatever was said was meant to give us a chance… a fighting chance. Were it not for the threat of invasion, I never would have betrayed you. I give you my word, Riddick, Ei—” I cut him off mid-syllable with a sharp gesture.

“Do not use that name for me ever again. It’s Lyra now… and I’m a whole new animal, not the woman you thought you knew before.” He flinched, taking a step back.

“Riddick!” The piping voice came from upstairs, quickly followed by the cherubic face of a caramel-skinned, curly-haired little girl. Her eyes shone in delight.

“Riddick!” Huskier and much more mature, the second exclamation heralded the appearance of a willowy woman in a red-and-gold robe, her hands wrapping a towel around her hair before reaching for the child.

“And a daughter…” I sighed inside, knowing how Rick melted for kids. The younger they were, the softer he got.

“No!” The holy man rushed up the steps to the landing, placing himself between us and his family. Not that it would have made any difference.

“Whose name would be…”

“If you have issue with me, let it be with me! You need not know their names.”

“Ziza,” the little girl responded cheerfully, heedless of her father’s words. “My name is Ziza.”

“Ziza.” I let the two syllables all but float off my tongue, looking at my mate. She’d wrapped him around her finger already.

“Cute kid.” Abu didn’t appear to notice that Rick meant it seriously.

“Did you really kill monsters? The ones that were gonna hurt my father?” My glare burned into the cleric, and he shrugged uncomfortably.

“Such are our bedtime stories.”

“Really. You consider those fiascoes appropriate tales for a—” I tried to judge her age, but guessed high, just in case. “—a four-year-old?”

“She cannot seem to get enough of them,” the wife snapped. It sounded like an ongoing argument with her spouse. “Go, Ziza.” She pushed the kid further down the hall. “Go on.”

~*~

Despite her mother’s efforts to keep her away, Ziza spent much of the afternoon with my lover. What they did couldn’t quite be called playing, but it was the closest I’d seen him get to it outside of our bedroom. Speaking of which, I was starting to get a bit of an itch, but we had more important things to deal with at the moment.

The little girl was sent to bed shortly before the sun set, but I knew she slipped past her mother, gravitating toward Rick like a small, frizzy-haired moon to a planet. To me, she was clearly visible on the other side of the fretwork wall that defined one side of the upstairs library. I scowled to myself as the last visible rays from Helion itself faded from the sky, leaning against a column on the balcony of the room.

“So who do we hafta kill t’ get this payday off our heads?” Abu didn’t seem to hear Rick as he paced around the room. Every time he neared the balcony, he would stare at the appallingly large—or close—comet that shone far brighter than the stars.

“It is said that the comet always precedes them, these world-enders.” I blinked, suddenly worried that this was somehow related to the dream I’d had about those ‘Necromongers.’ “The Coalsack planets are gone. Eight million settlers missing. The entire Aquilan System is gone, too.”

Fuck. Dammit, Shazza, you, Zeke, Rob, and Sean had better not be among the missing, or heads will roll.

“Helion Prime shares its sunlight with all worlds nearby.” The imam waved toward a massive solar collector and the shaft of light extending from its crystalline peak. “If we fall, they fall. And after that…” Prayer beads clicked through his fingers. “My God, how do I save my family?”

If I hadn’t been so worried about Kyra and what she might be facing in Crematoria, I might have said something about being smart and running. But the al-Walids’ problem was rather far from my mind. We’d taught my sister how to get out of most of the corners a girl could get backed into while in a prison, but had we covered them all? Or had something we’d never even considered taken her from me forever?

“Have you heard anything I’ve said?!” I gave Abu a sharp glance.

“You said it’s all circlin’ th’ drain.” Rick slouched in an armchair, his back to the eavesdropping child. And he sounded as though mold cultures would interest him more than the current topic.

“Th’ whole universe, right?” I added.

“That’s right.” My mate gently pushed the door beside him closed. His eyes gleamed silver in the dark corner.

“Had t’ happen sometime.” I ignored the holy man’s irritated muttering as three figures in hooded robes entered the plaza below. Mrs. Al-Walid met them at the door, exchanging only a few words with one of them before stepping aside.

They entered the library calmly, pulling back their wide cowls as they lined up in front of Abu. Tighter hoods covered their heads, with matching scarves hiding their faces from the nose down.

“The one you want is now here.” Rick ignored the older man’s words, pulling the facial covering off the short, stocky man on his end of the line, while I did the same to the lean figure closest to me. The one in the center immediately removed his own scarf, and I stepped back to regard them all coolly.

Identical dark brown clothing, loosely cut, was visible beneath the lightweight cloaks. Opalescent stone rings, about a centimeter thick and five in diameter, hung near the center of their chests on dark cords. None of it would really make them stand out in a crowd.

The candles on the balcony’s railing flickered in a wind I didn’t feel, and reflex snapped my left arm out, the dagger I called Sinistra laying against my forearm with her sharp edge out. My lover reacted similarly, right hand holding a swingblade just above my arm. A woman materialized just short of the weapons, the light scarf around her hair and throat barely brushing the metal.

Her dress shimmered with little sparkles on its snow-white fabric. The lines etching her face and her silver hair suggested that she’d seen many years, but I knew very well how looks could deceive.

“And whose throat is this?” The rumbled question made Abu step forward hastily, but the next words didn’t come from him.

“If you cut my throat, I’ll not be able to rescind the offer that brought you here.” Her words were clipped short by irritation, but I recognized the voice from my dream. “Nor tell you why it’s so vital that you did come.”

“Th’ blades come off when th’ bounty comes off.” Rick’s snarl made even the strangers flinch.

“This is Aereon, an envoy from the Elemental race. She means you no harm!” Glaring at the imam took enough of my attention off the woman for her to get away. Her shape blurred, sweeping around to solidify next to the short guy.

“There are very few of us who have met a Necromonger and lived, unconverted, to speak of it.” Ice blue eyes focused a teacher’s glare on us. “So when I choose to speak of it, you should choose to listen.”

“Necromonger.” My mate prowled around the group, movements smooth and predatory.

“Army headed for some sort of ‘Underverse,’” I added, stalking in the opposite direction. “Got a weird-ass Lord Marshal, lay waste t’ whole planets, yeah?” She nodded slightly, a hint of confused speculation in her gaze.

“It is the name that will convert or kill every last human life, unless the universe can rebalance itself.”

“Maybe you should pretend like you’re talkin’ t’ someone educated in th’ penal system.” I stifled a snigger as the largest person in the room bared his teeth in a mock grin. “In fact, don’t pretend.”

“Balance is everything to Elementals.” Aereon raised her hands, palms up, as though weighing something. “Water to fire. Earth to air. We have thirty-three different words for it.” Her hands dropped. “But now we only have time to speak of the balance of opposites.”

“There is a story, Riddick,” Abu interrupted. “One of young male Furyans, strangled at birth… strangled with their own cords. When Aereon told this story to the Helion leaders, I told her of you.”

“Futue te ipsum et caballum tuum,” I spat. His slight flinch told me he understood the Latin sentence, but then he just shrugged a bit.

“What do you know of your early years?”

“Do you remember your homeworld?”

“Where it was?” Rick’s eyes bounced from one questioner to the next.

“Have you met any others? Others like yourself?” With a derisive snort, I raised my hand and twiddled the fingers at the Elemental.

“Sister, they didn’t know what t’ do with just one of me.” He moved to my side, putting a familiarly possessive arm around my waist. “They’ve had a helluva time tryin’ t’ catch two of us.”

“And how, child, do you know so much about Necromongers?”

“One, I haven’t been a child for fourteen years. Two, I’ve never had what most people think of as dreams. They’re always true, or somethin’ I c’n affect.” I scowled at the woman even as the hand on my hip pulled me back against a warm, sculpted chest.

“An’ there’s someone you want us t’ kill.”

“Open up in there!” someone shouted, pounding on the house’s front door. A moment later, Abu’s wife rushed into the library.

“They are searching houses!” An accusing glare was aimed at me and my partner. “They look for people who came here today. They think they might be spies!”

“Lajjun!” The imam turned to us briefly. “I will send them away. Only wait one moment, please.” We’d already started moving toward the far end of the balcony, where we could easily reach the roof. “Will you wait one minute to save worlds?”

“Not our fight,” Rick growled even as Abu and the other three men left the room. The Elemental blurred into invisibility as I watched men in the uniform of the Helion Guard propel Lajjun and Ziza into the street with unnecessary roughness. Aereon’s three henchmen quickly followed.

“You don’t understand!” I heard one of them cry. “They can help us!” The candles around the room began to go out, one by one, until only four remained. I suspected that Aereon had done it with her Elemental abilities.

The library doors burst open, allowing between eight and a dozen soldiers into the darkened room. I glanced at them out of the corner of my eye, raising my hands above one of the remaining pairs of candles. And when I spoke, my voice blended flawlessly with my lover’s.

“You’re not afraid of th’ dark, are you?” Our palms descended to snuff out the last of the light, and the guardsmen panicked. Muzzle flashes from unaimed bursts of fire caused a strobing effect.

I didn’t particularly want to kill them—they were only doing their duty, albeit under orders that had completely missed the truth—but they were as determined as the mercs we’d had to put down in the past. Nothing short of death would stop them. Our night-sight advantage made it a short fight, and we stepped out of the wrecked library to find a uniformed kid holding Abu at knifepoint. He shook like a leaf, and the moment I flicked my hand in a shooing motion, he dropped the blade and fled.

“So you will leave us to our fate?” the holy man asked as we passed him on the stairs.

The crowd that had gathered in the plaza didn’t even murmur when we emerged from behind the half-smashed door.

“Riddick? Lyra?” I turned to meet a pair of wide, hazel eyes. “Are you gonna stop the new monsters now?”

My heart twisted in my chest. She saw us as heroes—strange, dark ones, but heroes nonetheless—and a part of me couldn’t tell her the truth, that I would avoid these Necromongers as much as I could. But I couldn’t bring myself to lie to her, either. Slowly, I pulled the hood of my purloined cloak over my head. Then I turned and walked away, the big convict’s arm lightly circling my waist.

Basilica, approaching Helion Prime

“Niklas.” The dulcet voice had invaded his sleep again. “Niklas, they need your help.” After all he’d done in the past decades, he deserved nothing but scorn from her. “Niklas Agnar, I am speaking to you.”

Uh-oh. It sounded like she was getting upset with him, so he’d better listen. Unpleasant consequences awaited him if he didn’t.

“You served their parents, Niklas. He looks just like his father, and her mother was the one to warn you. They will need your help today.”

His soul sighed in relief. Lady Veruna had been visibly pregnant the last time he’d seen her, when she told him to hide among the normal humans. Thank the Lady, she’d borne her daughter before Zhylaw’s hunters had caught up to her. That girl-child—no, she’d be a woman, after so many years—might be the only Alpha female left in the known universe.

“She was right about her daughter’s future mate.” The surprise nearly jolted him out of sleep. Most who had worked with the Pack Council knew that the Seer had declared that her child and the one carried by her best friend would bond. Which meant that the Riddick heir had somehow gotten past the Lord Marshal. Hope for his people, his true people, blossomed in his heart. House Riddick had led the race frequently and well over the centuries, and if the young Veruna had even half her mother’s Sight, they had to be a formidable pair.

“Help them, Niklas.” The voice faded on his name. A name that no one else in the fleet knew. Some used the appellation he’d claimed when he was ‘converted,’ hiding his heritage under ‘Nicholas Arthur.’

But most simply addressed him with the title of the position he’d attained: Chief Purifier.

New Mecca, Helion Prime

Not far from the al-Walid’s house, we moved from the streets to the rooftops. Rick led the way toward the desert, both of us jumping any gaps that got in the way. We had the information we needed to retrieve Kyra, and no desire to get caught up in a war.

Suddenly, the planet’s surface-to-air defenses started chattering, the bright flames from each missile streaking across the sky. People flooded the streets below, surging toward some common destination. The invasion had already begun.

Then a mighty impact threw me off my feet, barely able to reach my beloved’s hand. He twisted in midair to pull me close, and we landed hard, rolling to disperse the kinetic energy of our fall. A brief check for injuries only found a small scrape on my elbow.

The lights around us went out abruptly. Had a master fuse in the energy grid blown? More distant glows vanished, and I raised my shades to look around in the darkness.

“Oh, fuck,” I breathed. Like a massive spear, a towering structure had crushed several blocks, and rounded objects along its sides began to move. At the top, I could just make out the shape of a jaw.

“Necros?”

“Yeah.”

“Bastards.”

The comet didn’t precede a Necromonger invasion, it was the invasion. And, given the oddly-shaped fighter craft now separating from the pillar, running the rooftops left us too exposed to their fire. The streets had nearly emptied, save for stragglers and those injured too badly to move, thanks to the stampede. I led the way down carefully so we could wind through the man-made warren, still aiming for the desert and the undercutter buried there.

“Flight leaders, get all squads off the ground, now! We have heavy inbound!” I saw shapes dart out of the elevated hangars above the spaceport landing field. Explosions peppered the night sky as craft began to die.

Somehow, we managed to bump into al-Walid in an abandoned marketplace.

“You followin’ us?” Suspicion added an extra bite to my voice as the imam, Rick, and I ducked into one of the buildings. Quick-marching footsteps echoed from at least two of the avenues leading into the square.

“Lajjun and Ziza!” The dark-skinned man tried to go back outside, and my mate easily hauled him away from the thin curtains that veiled the nearest archway.

“When it’s over.”

“Let me go, I must get to my family!” Abu hissed. This time, both of us answered.

“When it’s over.” Two groups of soldiers audibly ran into each other outside our temporary hiding place. Guns chattered, juxtaposed against an odd ‘whomp’ noise. Cautiously peering around the stonework, I saw about fifty Helion militia and a score of troops in armor similar to that of the Necromongers in my dream. Their guns were creating the strange sounds, pulses of bluish-purple light flying at the native troops and quite obviously killing them. But the Helion men were cutting them down at least as quickly.

Then I noticed the single Necromonger without a weapon. Instead, he bore a staff with a grip in the middle and a bulging top. As his comrades fell, he raised the bar and slammed its lower end into the cobblestone plaza. The bullets began hitting him as he twisted the grip, and then his dead body’s mass pulled it down.

“Shit!” As soon as I saw the tiny blue-white star pop up from the top, I ducked back behind the wall. The explosion sent debris flying through the gauzy curtains. Silence reigned for a moment afterwards.

“We borrowed a ship.” Rick spoke quietly. “If ya don’t mind ridin’ with a pair of fugitives.”

“I thank you, but I must get my family across the river.” Obviously, the holy man wanted as little to do with us as possible. “God willing, there is still a shelter I can get them—”

“I’m sure God has his tricks, but gettin’ outta places no one else can?” The bass voice overrode Abu’s tenor. “That’s one of mine.” More feet tromped past, and the priest nodded jerkily.

“Let’s get your family.” I would do this for little Ziza, not her father. It took but a moment to collect her and her mother before resuming our trek. Cautiously running down streets, checking corners, slipping out of sight when we heard troops. One group almost caught us in an alley barely wide enough for two to walk abreast, and we dashed forward into a slightly more open space with a recessed doorway on either side. My lover and I dove left, the al-Walids going right.

A squad of the invaders trotted by, leaving four of their number in their wake. Two were clearly soldiers, one wearing a mélange of armor that covered little more than half his body. His cuirass was deeply scarred, with a knife embedded between one shoulder and his spine. The other notable member of the group wore something like an old-fashioned diving mask, its twisted features illuminated by a blue glow as it stood hunched over. A cable had been plugged in between the creature’s shoulders, leading to a handheld viewer in the possession of a normal-looking Necromonger.

The masked thing looked around the tiny plaza, clicking quietly. As its gaze found a Helion soldier slumped against a wall, the sound grew both louder and more rapid. I saw the injured man’s hand twitch around his gun before the fourth Necro raised his weapon. With a ‘whomp’ and a spasm, the man died.

Did that ruin of a person see in BTUs, or infrared, or something similar?

The mask swiveled further as the ordinary soldier moved out, probably to catch up to his comrades. The officer-type in the battered armor remained, an oddly-shaped axe resting on his shoulder. Then the creature focused on the other alcove, its clicks increasing again. I drew a stiletto from a leg sheath, tensing to attack either the officer or the handler.

“Hai!” With a shout, the imam burst out of his temporary refuge, long shirt flaring as he ran back the way we’d come. The remaining Necromonger soldier turned to pursue him, the masked thing and its controller still watching the alcove.

I waited for a slow count of five, then leaped forward. My slim blade slid between vertebrae, cleanly severing the man’s spine with a minimum of mess. Rick took a more hands-on approach, savagely twisting the creature’s head until its neck snapped with an audible crunch. I nodded at him, then turned to Lajjun as he left. She’d firmly pressed Ziza’s face into her skirt, attempting to shield her from the violence.

“Go t’ ground,” I told her. “Somewhere they’ve already cleared. An’ keep your heads down.”

“Why isn’t Jack with you?” I looked at the little girl with a sad smile.

“Bad people took her away. But we’re gonna get her back, I promise.” Inclining my head to the both of them, I took off after my mate.

(Riddick)

No two ways about it, th’ damn holy man c’n pour on th’ speed, for a soft civilian. But it ain’t enough, ‘cause th’ Necro’s keepin’ up easily. So do I, stayin’ outta th’ weirdo’s sight. At times, I hafta give th’ soldier as much as a fifteen-meter lead.

I start climbin’ a set of rungs they’ve already scaled when I hear th’ chase come t’ an end.

“There will be an afterlife for me. Will there be one for you?”

Damn idealistic fuckin’ pacifist. I move as fast as I can, but th’ struggle’s much too brief. A wet ‘thump’ echoes past th’ portcullis next t’ th’ ladder, followed a moment later by th’ impact of heavy boots on th’ stone pavers.

I swing over th’ wall’s capstones an’ pause, hearin’ my woman catch up. A few small pools of blood dot th’ overpass, th’ priest’s talisman layin’ among ‘em. Lyra grabs th’ pendant an’ chain when she sees ‘em, then looks over th’ other wall.

An oddly peaceful expression’s on al-Walid’s face as th’ cobbles under an’ around him’re painted with a spreadin’ layer of scarlet. His hips an’ legs face one way, his torso th’ other, broken glasses more than a meter away. For a change, I hope th’ man was dead ‘fore th’ Necromonger threw him off th’ bridge.

“He pays,” my lover snarls. I wrap my hand around th’ more delicate one holdin’ th’ talisman.

She doesn’t like when people fuck up somethin’ she’s tryin’ t’ do. Imam’s dead now… an’ soon, someone else’s gonna die for that.
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