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Night Vision	By : ehiltebe Category: M through R > Pitch Black Views: 1117 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I don't own Pitch Black. All I can claim is Eileen, really; all else is borrowed, and profits me not at all!

Chapter List
- 7
- 8
- 9
Chapter Eight
Watching Vargas prep his comrades’ remains for transport, she marveled once again at Rick’s gift for causing mayhem. Santana’s remaining team members had stayed on their toes and nervous until the arrival of full daylight, only then retrieving their dead. Luna had muttered something in her general direction—when the other three weren’t around—about the girl’s body being gone when he looked. The injuries to Nunez appeared to have been made by some animal’s teeth and claws; Rubio had essentially been chopped into four pieces.
“One night, three dead,” Vargas sighed. “Not sure I’m lovin’ this trend.”
“Two dead, one missing.” Such hope in the kid’s voice, when he had to know that Falco was beyond help already.
“Exactly. Three dead.” The older merc shook his head regretfully.
“Well, look at it this way, boys.” Diaz manipulated his chewing tobacco briefly and spat. “We might all fit in one ship now.”
Jack suppressed a smirk; the message in blood on the station’s door had been genius. But if it weren’t for her and Eileen’s intention to leave with Rick instead of Boss, the cleaner, newer ship would have been crowded with their current numbers. Possibly to the point where they’d have been forced to choose between leaving people or the Hogs behind. The latter not being an option Boss would favor, as the hover-bikes were both expensive and extremely useful on jobs.
~I’d prefer t’ take Luna with us, instead of leavin’ him in reach of anyone like Santana an’ Diaz.~ The though actually startled her. She’d never felt any inclination to add a non-Furyan to the Pack. Any of their race who had managed to evade Zhylaw’s assassins belonged to Eileen and Rick, of course; by all the old laws and customs they now knew, the pair were the only survivors qualified to lead.
So why should she want to add a vanilla human to their small, tightly-knit family? Why had she tried to warn him to be careful at night?
Metallic clanking preceded Santana into the cleared yard around the station. Two heavy chains, attached to meter-wide steel jaw traps, had the slimy little man straining to drag them in. As he flung the links to the ground, Jack could see dried blood on the jagged teeth.
“Diaz!” Clan Vagos’ leader was snarling mad, and she was glad that the rest of Boss’ team was inside. “Get those other traps back here. Luna, say something… Bible-like over these bodies.” The still-edgy young man knelt obediently, pulling a small book from a pocket over his heart.
~Bastard fuckin’ mocks his faith.~ Bristling, Jack followed him through the door, determined to show him the sharp side of her tongue. Maybe her katana, too. But she hesitated as he sat down at the table, facing Boss and Dahl, who’d lingered over their breakfasts. Her own untouched plate sat by the blonde’s elbow, probably cold by now.
“Okay, maybe we zero this out.” Santana’s voice sounded polite enough, but she also sensed an angry undertone. “What’s your tag, anyway?”
“So now you want to know my name.” The graying man leaned back in his chair, arms folded. “Well, I’m not sure I’m gonna say. Because everyone you know by name, Santana, winds up dead.”
The courteous façade vanished as the smaller man slapped Jack’s plate aside, the egg-substitute and imitation bacon protein strips flying everywhere. Dahl stood up, looming over him, her shoulders tense with rage.
“You gonna clean this shit up?” she demanded. The bastard responded with an oily smirk and a string of Spanish—a little-used language which Jack had never bothered to learn, aside from a few choice expletives. Given his expression, she was pretty sure he’d said something insulting and sexually suggestive.
The blonde’s reaction confirmed it; her right arm drew back as her left hand grabbed the front of Santana’s shirt. Three solid shots landed before the older woman reined herself in.
“Excuse me,” Lockspur murmured, vacating the immediate area in favor of joining Moss over by the Hogs on the upper level. The Vagos leader shook his head, dazed, with his nose already swelling and changing color.
“Watch out for surprise attacks,” Boss deadpanned.
“Maybe…” Santana dug out a piece of cloth to press near the damage. “Maybe it’s time to start merging assets, right?”
“So this is you asking for my help?”
“This is me saying that I may need some of your gear.” Jack snorted at the flimsy attempt to avoid the word ‘help’. “If some of your guys happen to come attached to that gear, I will understand that’s the way it’s gotta be.” Both men walked across the room, stopping next to the hover-bikes. At least the two truly customized vehicles, the ones she’d modified herself, remained aboard ship, hidden beneath their dust covers.
“So you’re asking for my gear’s help.”
“More like that,” Santana confirmed with a nod. Boss turned to his dark-skinned mechanics specialist.
“Moss…” Her friend moved closer to one bike, leaning forward as though the handlebars were whispering to him. Then he looked back up, loathing for the scumbags in his eyes.
“Th’ gear’s sayin’ ‘Nah.’ Bitch.” Whether he meant the last word as a noun or a verb was anyone’s guess.
“There’s your answer.” The former military man shrugged and turned toward the rack where he’d stored his armor the previous night, followed by Dahl and Lockspur.
“What the fuck do you want, man?” Desperation finally entered the foul little man’s demeanor.
“You know what?” Jack’s teammates helped lift the heavy chest and back segments over Boss’ head. “I’m gonna fold you in, Santana. But I give orders to Dahl, and Dahl’s gonna give orders to you. And that’s the chain of command from this point forward.”
~He’s doing a damned good job with the acting.~
“Why am I not liking this plan?” the asshat asked rhetorically as he turned away. “Oh, I know, I know. You know why?” He faced Boss again, spitting his next words. “Because it sucks ass and swallows! I’m not taking orders from your pet whore who thinks I won’t smack her right back…” The brunette winced and hissed as Dahl stalked past the man, giving him another right as she drew even. His legs went out from under him this time—probably because the angle of the blow had changed by a good ninety degrees—and he ended up slumped against a safety rail.
“I don’t fuck guys,” the blonde snarled, then quirked a malicious grin. “Occasionally I fuck ‘em up if they need it.” Then she continued on her way, headed for the bunk area.
“I help,” Jack added in a bright tone, deciding to go outside. “An’ I have fun doin’ it.” The sun on her face and the door between herself and the vile little man eased something within, but she kept an ear tuned to the ‘conversation’. Luna emerged from the Vagos ship, seeming bowed down by an invisible burden.
“Here’s what’s gonna happen,” she heard Boss begin. “You’re gonna take a back seat. We’ll track Riddick down, I promise. But I want him alive. You give me a day, and after that he’s yours.”
~Good. That’ll give th’ kid a break from th’ action.~
“You’re giving me the bounty?”
“You pay my crew, fuel costs; the rest is yours. That’s the deal.”
“What is Riddick to you?” Suspicion entered Santana’s voice. “Not just some convict. What do you want? Why are you here? Who are you?”
“My name is Johns.” A weapon audibly slid into its holster. “Lock down those ships, get those Hogs on deck! I will ride with Moss and Lockspur.” Ah, there were his usual brisk tactical instructions. “I want a non-lethal load-out, LODs and phosphor frags to start with. This is a man who hunts by night; we’ll take it to him by day.” Boss strode out, winking at her as he passed. “Jack, you’re in charge of exterior security. Diaz, Vargas! Show me the spot of the last kill.”
~Thanks, old man. Maybe I can even get Luna t’ sleep.~
When the two grimy mercs only went about twenty meters past their ship and stopped, the brunette doubled over, shoving a fist against her mouth to stifle her mirth at how close Rick had gotten. As she’d hoped, the team radio channel switched on, and Jack eavesdropped shamelessly as she kept an eye on the kid.
“Some kind of canine,” Lockspur concluded eventually. He held down the positions of team scout, tracker, and infiltration specialist. Quiet, sneaky, and still something of a cipher, even after more than two years. The four pairs of feet that she could just still see moved out of sight.
As the brunette leaned against the building and listened, her concern for Luna—at a guess, his max actual awake age was maybe twenty, making him the youngest human on the planet—grew. He sank to the ground on the other side of the ‘porch’, drew his knees up to his chest, wrapped his arms around them, and put his head down. She frowned.
“Tired?” His shoulders moved in a shrug, but that was his only response. “Th’ dead girl?” He nodded, still not looking up. “I hate when I’m right about shit like that.”
“Think I was the only one who didn’t do anything to her,” the kid muttered, sounding miserable. “Except try to keep her fed, hydrated, and treat any injuries they gave her.”
“They would’ve come down on you hard if you’d tried t’ help her any more than that, wouldn’t they?” It was a stab in the dark, but given the way they’d behaved around a group of people they had no control of…
“Probably.” Barely a whisper, the word sounded like he’d had to force it out. Her earpiece beeped, and Jack made a sound so Luna wouldn’t think she was ignoring him.
“Hey Diaz, I got a dog here.” She snorted, knowing that Boss had gotten out his handheld scope. “Is it the same dingo-dongo thing from last night?”
“Nah, I’m pretty sure we killed that one.” She could feel the disbelief in the silence before the big fucker reluctantly spoke again. “Could be th’ same one.”
“The same,” her teammates chorused.
“Dahl, get your sniper rifle and barium rounds.”
~*~
Her ‘baby’ hoisted on her left shoulder and ammo case in her right hand, the blonde strode around the ship, hoping neither of the older Furyans was nearby, because, dollars to donuts, Riddick had befriended the dingo-dongo thing. Boss had, as usual, found a good spot for her to set up, where she could be relatively comfortable in a prone position. There was even a small dip in the rock that had been filled with gravel to help stabilize the rifle’s kickstand.
The specialized sniper’s weapon was nearly as long as she was tall, and weighed a good thirty kilos.
“Fifteen hundred meters,” her friend said as she loaded a brass-cased slug marked with a glowing green triangle, rotating the breech and latching it, then adjusting the purely mechanical scope. She found the creature easily, sitting in front of a small, rocky ridge. Against any native animal, its position in a natural recess would have been very defensible; as it was, the opening gave her no trouble whatsoever.
~Breathe in, breathe out, squeeze.~ The powerful rifle bucked, and the projectile missed by maybe two centimeters. Even as Dahl loaded a second round, she was tracking the beast’s movement with her eyes. Now it was stretched out in a run, moving diagonally away from the station, covering ground easily with its long legs. But her second shot hit its left flank; it stumbled, but kept going.
She glanced up with a smile—on the move was more difficult to hit than sitting still—as Boss checked his handheld tracker for the signal.
“Good hunting.”
“Of course. You’re in charge of the station until we get back.”
~Oh, great. Sulking, lousy excuses for mercs t’ deal with.~ The Hogs roared away with the maker’s signature rumble. ~Well, since Jack can help keep an eye on them, maybe I can manage t’ bathe.~
Then again, the girl appeared to have developed an unnatural fascination with the only decent male remaining behind.
~If I can get her t’ pay attention t’ anybody else.~
~*~
I watch Big Daddy Johns an’ his boys head out, followin’ th’ trace they’ve got on Dog. Yeah, he’ll go t’ th’ lair, but nothin’ important is there anymore. Just th’ body of th’ merc I grabbed last night.
They shoulda known better than t’ take me lightly.
I’m actually lurkin’ around th’ station; Eileen’s out like a light, layin’ on top of Big Daddy ‘s ship an’ soakin’ up some sun while she sleeps. Apparently I’m used t’ bein’ awake for longer stretches than she is, now, or her internal clock don’t match up.
What I see happenin’ with Jack an’ Squeaker’s enough t’ make a cat laugh. Th’ fixation on her part is vaguely familiar, but I can’t quite pin down why. Th’ boy doesn’t know how t’ handle th’ attention, which is makin’ him a little more jumpy than he already was.
What kinda hold could Santana have on th’ kid t’ make him stay with people he obviously dislikes so much?
While I’m lookin’ around, I find a broken window that doesn’t have louvers on it—major security breach. As I sneak up, I hear water runnin’ an’ take a peek. Huh. Th’ sharpshooter’s washin’ up, stripped t’ th’ waist. I heard her earlier comment about not fuckin’ men, so it might be fun t’ yank her chain a bit. Not too hard, since my girls clearly like her, an’ I think she’s smart enough t’ realize I’m teasin’, not comin’ on t’ her.
Her dock kit is unrolled right under th’ window. My target is th’ compact near th’ middle, ‘cause it’s bound t’ have a mirror we can use t’ check out areas in th’ ships an’ building without much risk.
Just for th’ hell of it, I reach for th’ back of her neck an’ get pretty close before switchin’ t’ my real target. Liftin’ the makeup is easy; looks like I’ve still got th’ light touch I cultivated as a kid. By th’ time she dries off an’ realizes her shit’s missin’, I’m out of sight again. She puts herself together, then stalks outta th’ head, fumin’. I dart around an’ slip through an unlatched skylight in th’ main room in time t’ hear her an’ Box-Boy get into it again.
“Boom,” th’ sleazebag mutters.
“Were you just perving out on me somehow?” th’ blonde shoots back after a pause. I hear a sort of kissy sound.
“May all your dreams come true, baby.” Th’ dickwad.
“You’ve got two minutes.” I think he’s been tryin’ t’ push her buttons an’ has finally succeeded. “I want you out on fuckin’ perimeter watch.”
~*~
Waking from my nap on top of Boss’ ship, I found a small metal case set by my hand. Dahl’s makeup, certainly lifted by my mate, and figuring out why he left it with me wasn’t difficult. A glimpse over the side of the vessel showed that the main hatch was open, with the kid standing a few steps away and someone rummaging around inside. It sounded like they were digging in the spare parts bin.
I carefully eased open the latch on my escape route from our landing and reached down, the open compact in hand to I could look around with the mirror. One of the power nodes was missing—not an action the old soldier would take on his own, since it eliminated any possibility of retreat without preparation time.
Which meant that Santana’s ship was probably similarly disabled, and both units were probably secured somewhere inside.
Bastard.
“This is Johns to any-goddamn-body at the station,” my earpiece suddenly relayed. He sounded pissed. “I want you to keep an eye on that locker. Keep an eye on the nodes. Riddick may have made an end run. My ETA is seven minutes, but watch your back.”
~No ‘may have’ about it,~ I thought.
Despite being on the same side, it was fun to play head games with Boss.
~*~
I’ve found a fairly stable spot in th’ rafters when th’ blonde storms back inside; it’s been more like five minutes than two. An’ pullin’ back th’ slide on her pistol then slappin’ it on th’ table only kinda gets Box-Boy’s attention.
“All right, you little bitch,” she mutters before raising her voice. “Your two minutes are up. You gonna do what I tell you to do?”
“Rumor is Riddick might be in the vicinity.” Asshole takes a pull on his cigarette. “Thought I should just check on the locker.” Wrong thing t’ say when faced with an angry woman who knows how t’ take someone apart.
“Get outside, get on your optics, and get after this fucker!” Th’ sharpshooter points, an’ I hafta admire her actin’ skills, ‘cause she sounds like she thinks I’m a danger t’ every human on th’ planet. “You’re not gonna find him here.”
Santana, t’ my momentary surprise, actually heads for th’ door. I realize it’s a ruse right before he flings his cancer stick into th’ woman’s face, followin’ it with a punch an’ a body-slam that puts her on th’ floor. His hands encircle her throat while he straddles her, keepin’ her legs from bein’ useful for fightin’ him.
I ease a knife out of its sheath, in cate I hafta intervene. I’m not gonna let this scumbag seriously damage Eileen’s friend.
“Actually, Dahl, I think we have something in common.” His voice is rough, like she’s gotten her own mitts on his neck. “I don’t fuck guys, either.” Then he does somethin’—I can’t see what—that gets a scream of rage outta her.
Amid th’ commotion, I drop down, dart over t’ th’ locker, nick my finger with th’ knife, an’ accomplish what I meant t’ do in th’ first place. I’m halfway through when th’ door slams open, sendin’ me into th’ shadows where I’m damned hard t’ see. But th’ new arrival is Jack, who winks in my general direction before layin’ into th’ bastard while also managin’ t’ damage communications equipment. I finish quickly an' get back into th’ rafters right before Squeaker peers inside an’ th’ ladies succeed in hurlin’ Santana up over th’ safety rail.
While Little Sis checks Dahl briefly, I hear a trio of Hogs outside. My woman slips in through th’ skylight as Santana’s two remainin’ bully-boys shove th’ kid through th’ door in front of themselves.
~Uh-huh. They ‘can ball with anyone.’ Right.~ Still, it means th’ youngest sees my message before anyone else notices it. A few moments later, Big Daddy an’ one of his boys walk in, an’ th’ blonde nods toward th’ locker.
“You need to see this,” she says. Th’ Vagos trio moves aside, an’ he stares for a second.
“He wrote that?”
“He took out our deep-space communications. All of it,” Santana’s middle boy adds. I stifle a laugh; not like Jack’s gonna ‘fess up.
“And whose blood is that?” Billy’s old man starts pointin’. “There… Here… Over there…” Th’ women glance at each other, an’ Box-Boy’s number two rolls his eyes.
“We had to kick his ass again. Sorry.” Th’ sharpshooter isn’t, not in th’ least.
“Not really,” Jack chirps. “He asked for it.”
“Fuck it.” Th’ sleazebag goes t’ th’ locker, pullin’ th’ key off his neck. “Let’s take a look at this.” He gets three clicks in before Big Daddy speaks up.
“Stop.” It’s like watchin’ fuckin’ tennis or somethin’, the way heads keep turnin’ in one direction, then th’ other. “That key leave your neck?”
“Never.” Santana looks a little baffled t’ be asked that.
“Well,” Boss points out, “the only reason to write ‘fair trade’ is if he got into that locker and he took something out. Something that we need, like a power node, which he could then swap for something he needs.”
“Wow, all that?” Fucker’s oozin’ sarcasm. “Highly unlikely.” Okay, now his disregard for my intelligence an’ skills is gettin’ annoyin’.
“Let me join the fucking dots for you, Santana.” Th’ old man lowers his voice an’ looms. “Here’s what I’m saying. If he did get in there somehow, he was in a position to relock it and change the code.”
“Could be entering the wrong shit,” th’ big jamoke adds. So much for loyalty.
“So…” Santana stops an’ rubs his jaw, which makes a sound like somethin’ solid’s movin’ in there. A loosened tooth from the ladies, maybe. “You think, sometime during the last few hours, he got this off my neck without me noticing, did whatever he did, and put the fucking key back on my fucking neck without me fucking noticing? Where did you get that theory from? A unicorn’s ass?”
“There’s a reason he is who he is,” th’ dark-skinned man comments, shruggin’ off a glare.
“He’s a convict, not some Zulu warlock.”
“You know what you know,” Boss concedes, walkin’ away. I lean over t’ whisper in Eileen’s ear.
“If he’s actin’ he deserves a goddamn Oscar.” She grins back an’ nods. Another point of difference between father an’ son.
Of course, now Box-Boy’s so rattled he can’t finish unlockin’ th’ cabinet.
“This is crazy!” he blurts. “This is fucking crazy. The first three clicks were good. It did not go off.”
“You can get three clicks in Russian roulette.” Big Daddy’s boy crosses his arms. “Don’t mean you get four, motherfucker.” I’m startin’ t’ like his attitude.
“You know what, Santana?” Dahl’s just managin’ not t’ smirk. “For once, I actually agree with you. I think you’re good.”
“Shut up,” he snaps. We’re really getting’ under his skin as a fuckin’ group. Asshat nods at th’ big jamoke. “Do you think we’re good?”
Th’ guy backs up another meter before he answers. “I think you’re good, cuz.”
“You’re fuckin’ good,” th’ blonde prods. “Just butch up.”
“Sounds like your department, lesbo,” he sneers back.
“Neither of us is opening that thing,” Jackie snarls.
“Oh, yes, you fucking are!” Santana pulls a machete an’ starts toward them. Dahl whips out her pistol, Jack th’ katana I almost didn’t see strapped t’ her back. It starts a chain reaction, everybody pointin’ a weapon except Boss.
“Hey, hey, hey!” Th’ man’s either been a drill sergeant or learned from a good one. “Use your fucking brains! We are not gonna do Riddick’s work for him! Put your weapons down.” He waves at th’ locker. “And have a look at that. He was here. Right fucking there. Santana, put your fucking sword away.” Box-Boy reluctantly does so, an’ th’ rest relax.
“Don’t fucking open it, then,” he says, turnin’ t’ walk away.
“Well, the problem with that, Santana, is that if we never open that locker, we never leave.” Boss clearly ain’t happy that he’s been put in this position.
It takes some grumblin’, but everyone gets down into th’ lower level of th’ station except Santana, who paces a bit.
“…the strength of my life, of Whom shall I be afraid…” Hearin’ Squeaker’s religious mutterin’, I look at Eileen an’ roll my eyes. Box-Boy finally bites th’ figurative bullet.
“Four.” He takes a deep breath when it only clicks.
“Try five,” Boss urges, shoulderin’ th' kid aside an’ half-shieldin’ him. Santana breathes in again.
“Five. And…”
A loud bang makes everyone jump; th’ dark-skinned guy looks up all innocent, his hand flat on th’ table full of dominos.
“Oops.” His long-haired buddy punches his shoulder, an’ Dahl looks back at ‘em.
“Wish I’d have thought of that,” she mutters. Jack grins, all teeth.
Th’ chief asshat collects himself again an’ turns th’ key with a yell.
“Six!” His device beeps an’ powers down. “Six.” Th’ ladies make a pair of surprised noises. “Six…” Santana sags as his middle boy steps up.
“You are a shit-storm trooper, Santana. I’ll give you that.”
“You beat th’ devil this time,” murmurs th’ prankster.
“That’s Moss,” Eileen whispers t’ me.
“Didn’t think he was actually gonna do it.” Our brunette grins, mischief in her eyes. She knows what’s comin’.
Squeaker stops dead in his tracks, spine ramrod straight. “This is a sign.”
“Ah.” Th’ middle guy opens up th’ locker, ignorin’ th’ kid. “Sweet.” Th’ nodes are still there, of course.
“I believe this is a sign.” Th’ boy says it louder this time, actually gettin’ attention. “It may be that the good Lord wants us to take these nodes and flee this planet, just as soon as we can.”
Ah, fuck. Just as I was startin’ t’ like th’ brat, too. Fuckin’ religion.
“That’s my good luck charm,” Box-Boy drawls, lightin’ up another cigarette.
“Wrong business, kid.” Dahl pats his shoulder. Walkin’ behind th’ blonde, Little Sis just reaches up an’ smacks th’ back of his head as she passes.
An’ then just about jumps outta her skin, like she’s touched a live wire. My woman puts her hands over her mouth an’ starts shakin’, keepin’ her giggles silent. I’ll save my question ‘til we’re away from th’ station.
“You know,” Moss comments, “I was kinda hoping th’ bomb would go off.” Santana’s bunch heads outside; Jackie looks like she wants t’ follow Squeaker, but joins Boss’ group around th’ table instead. A holomap comes out, one panel on th’ fritz, an’ they start discussin’ what th’ men found while they were out on th’ Hogs.
“We sealed up his caves with some phosphor frags here, so he can’t go back.” Yeah, I’m glad I cleared out what little I wanna keep. “And just like an animal, he’s gonna head to known ground. But we’re gonna find he’s got three or four lairs out there. So we’ll radius out from this point, here.” Seems like th’ smartass has already heard this plan, ‘cause he looks around an’ heads back toward th’ lock. “Now, radio comms… I saw three repeaters listed in inventory. Find them, set them up at regular intervals. I never want to be out of touch like that again.”
Moss looks at th’ nodes, then closes th’ doors on ‘em an’ glances up. His holster clicks open; he’s seen th’ open skylight an’ walks behind th’ cabinet t’ investigate. It’s what I’ve been waitin’ for, so th’ moment he’s outta sight of th’ rest, my right hand’s under his jaw an’ he’s backed up against th’ locker. Naturally, th’ merc’s eyes go saucer-sized, showin’ sclera all th’ way around his dark irises.
“Are you scared of me?” I kept my voice down.
“Y-yeah.” Just for shits an’ giggles, I add a blade t’ th’ mix.
“Are they scared of me?” Let him decide who ‘they’ are.
“Yes, they’re scared of you.”
“Maybe you’re all scared of th’ wrong thing.” I feel a light thump next t’ me; Eileen stretches up t’ peck me on th’ cheek, then shoots a grin at Moss. With a little finger-wigglin’ wave, my mate darts around th’ locker t’ grab th’ nodes.
Th’ man’s eyes just about fall out of his head. In fact, he’s so shocked that it takes no effort whatsoever t’ plant his ass on a convenient shelf before I accept a power unit an’ follow Eileen up t’ th’ skylight. We don’t completely leave just yet, crouchin’ outta sight on th’ roof.
“Lockspur, I want you to lock down those Hogs, all right?” Seems Boss hasn’t missed his boy yet. “I don’t want this guy any more mobile than he already is. Now Dahl, I spotted a nice little nest for you, right here in these low hills.”
“Moss?” Sounds like his buddy came lookin’ for him.
“I just saw him.”
“Say again?”
“I just saw him. An’ our vanished friend.” Th’ jaw hittin’ th’ floor is almost audible, quickly followed by th’ creak of cheap hinges, feet headed away, an’ th’ station door slammin’.
“Dahl, I want you to sit on this ship! Diaz, make sure your ship is locked down!” Big Daddy’s doin’ a solid impression of royally pissed. “The rest of you get on the fucking perimeter and keep your eyes on each other! Santana! He got the fucking nodes!”
An’ that’s our cue t’ leave.
~*~
Once we got well away from the building, I released the hold I’d put on my amusement and almost bent over double as I laughed. Dog joined us, touching my elbow with his cool, damp nose. Rick cocked an eyebrow and waited for me to explain.
“I think we gave Moss a heart attack.” That got me a partial smile. “Jack, though…” I dissolved into sniggers again. “Remember when I gave you that first pair of goggles, on T-2? Th’ way we seemed t’ zap each other?” My lover nodded. “I think that’s why she jumped.”
“Jack and Squeaker?” Momentary disbelief turned into a broad evil grin. “This’s gonna be fuckin’ hilarious.”
“An’ she was feelin’ bummed, thinkin’ there might not be a ‘right guy’ for her. That she wouldn’t get a bond like ours.” I smirked. “Such an innocent kid. Has no clue what’s about t’ hit him.”
“Not th’ foggiest,” Rick agreed before kissing me. “It’ll amuse Niklas an’ Marcus, too.” We could both feel the Omega and Beta getting closer, astronomically speaking. It didn’t take any effort to realize they would be looking for us.
“Be nice if we could find their mates, too.” Once we arrived at the sandy ‘clearing’, digging began in silence, occasionally interrupted for smooches. Mushroom-shaped rocks surrounded and sheltered the soft patch of sediment, and Dog sprawled on top of one of them, keeping a watch of sorts.
As we used folding shovels to tamp down our excavation, the canid went on alert with a growl that escalated into a yipping howl. Then he leapt down and crept forward, peering southward. Dark clouds swarmed the horizon, rumbling with thunder. My mate knelt to put a comforting arm around his four-legged friend.
“I know,” he soothed. “It’s coming.” He turned to me. “Look at th’ ground underneath. That’s why gettin’ mercs here had t’ happen now.” Shapes writhed, faintly visible, beneath the curtains of rain.
Well, fuck.
~*~
“So then we just combine nodes.” For all the importance of the argument and its subject, Jack couldn’t focus on it. “Pull one from that ship, put it in this ship, you know? Amps is amps, right?”
~No, they aren’t, Dahl,~ she thought absently, her eyes staying on the increasingly-jumpy Luna. That shock earlier…
“It’s not about amps,” Vargas corrected. “It’s about what each ship is rated to draw. You miss by even a few millijoules an’ you fry every chip you’ve got.”
“Okay, so figure it out.” Unfortunately, the blonde didn’t have the best aptitude for electronics. “Get th’ difference an’ just do it. Jailbreak th’ fuckin’ thing.” The merc facing her sighed.
“I could give you a crash course on thermodynamic equilibrium and energy exchange right now, or maybe you just want to take my goddamn word for it.”
“I get it, I get it.” Thankfully, Boss stepped in. “The ships are incompatible. We’re not gonna fly without the nodes back.”
“Why do I feel like we just cut off our own nuts here?” Diaz griped.
“Probably because we did.” She found herself spitting the words at the big asshole in chorus with her friend, but he ignored them both.
“How about I take one of those jet hogs, two days’ worth of food, and go out and hunt this fucker down myself?” he continued.
“Hell no!” Jack felt herself bristle. Lockspur had secured the hover-bikes inside their ship, racked next to the pair that had been bought just for her and Eileen. Anybody who grabbed a Hog now couldn’t possibly miss the additional machines.
“Bad idea, Diaz,” Sleazebag Santana agreed. “One-on-one with Riddick?”
“I might be able to get the emergency beacon working again,” Vargas suggested.
“Isn’t that like an ambulance calling for an ambulance?” It seemed like Lockspur was trying to pick up the still-stunned Moss’ usual snark factor.
“It’s backup for th’ fuckin’ backup,” Dahl confirmed. “We can’t.”
“I thought he was th’ one stranded here.”
“Yeah, well, looks like you thought wrong.”
~Assholes.~
“Long wait for backup,” a familiar but missed voice said on the radio. “In case you were thinkin’ about fixin’ th’ beacon an’ callin’ for help.”
“Falco’s radio.” Vargas looked up from a small control box, gone pale.
~Duh.~
“Riddick, I don’t give a fuck about the backup.” Damn, but the old man was acting masterfully. “Because I’ve still got all kinds of gear than can ruin your day in a hurry. So you go find another fucking cave. You keep runnin’, keep hidin’. Doesn’t matter t’ me none. Because in the end, I will find you!” His last words echoed off the rocks.
“Look south.” Everyone pivoted at Rick’s words; he walked toward them, brazenly, along the same mini-ravine where the dead girl had been when they landed. His clothes were more rough-and-tumble than anything she’d ever seen him wear, but that only made sense, since he’d probably made them from the hides of animals he’d killed since he was dumped by the Necros.
“I don’t believe it,” Dahl muttered.
“Th’ balls on this fuckin’ guy.”
~Coulda told you that, Lockspur.~
“Dahl, keep an eye on things here.” As Boss moved forward, the rest of the team stepped back. Luna looked over at the brunette as she passed him.
“What should I do?” Despite the slight tremor in his voice—there because he had a working brain, dammit—she felt a bit warmer than the weather called for.
“Stay low.” Gratifyingly, he followed her advice, crouching and seeking cover. Sleazebag and Douchebag, though, followed the old man, and Jack didn’t go far, hoping she’d be close enough to watch his back.
Rick shrugged off a ragged-edged cape as he approached, clearly indulging in a little theater, then disarmed himself of a pair of long knives. Boss reciprocated with his gauge and sidearm, then snarled over his shoulder—without looking—for his tagalongs to do the same. The young woman watched all four men stop on opposite ends of the five-meter outcrop as thunder rolled.
“So what’s th’ bounty at?” her friend asked cheekily.
“I don’t know.” Her temporary employer shrugged. “I don’t care. It’s not why I’m here.”
“I bet th’ big jamoke knows.” Rick grinned evilly.
“Yeah. I know exactly what it is.” Diaz looked far too eager to take down the other big man.
“What I do know,” Boss interjected, “is that it’s double if you’re brought back dead.” As when she’d first seen the new incentive, Jack shivered.
“That’s new.” The former con tilted his head. “Will it be enough t’ pay for your funerals?”
“What I’m interested in is a little backwater place with the system code M-344/G.” The old man got an odd look from Rick. “I want to know what happened there ten years ago.”
“Th’ father.” A slow smile creased the generous mouth. “Big Daddy Johns.”
“Yeah, that’s right.”
“An’ you traveled all this way just t’ see me. I’m flattered.”
“It’s kind of strange, not knowing what to put down in the family Bible.” The brunette squashed an urge to laugh; given Boss’ view on religion in daily life, the statement was a veiled joke.
“It’s kinda strange three guys hafta die just so you c’n hear…”
“No, no, no. You don’t get to put that shit on me. Those kills are on you.”
~More like on the overconfident asswipe who came here under-prepared an’ underestimatin’ his target.~ If she got another chance to kick Santana’s ass…
“I have a feelin’ that’s not th’ only thing on me right now.” Jack glanced around and spotted Lockspur and Dahl atop a boulder. Not worried about them, she turned back around, hearing an animal growl from somewhere nearby.
~Of course he’d make friends with some local predator,~ she mused.
“I hate to interrupt this discussion about ancient history, but maybe I should step right in here and introduce myself.” Sleazebag stepped forward, and something moved in the brush. “My name is…”
“Box-Boy.” She stifled another burst of amusement.
“Say what?”
“You are th’ guy who said that he was gonna put my head in a box, right?”
“Well, that was me…” Santana seemed to consider his words. “…spitting noise.”
“But you do have a box.”
“Do I have a… box?”
“Thought I saw one.” Rick looked toward the brush, then the rocks on the other side. Even odds, her sister hid there.
“I mean, of course I have a box. Everyone’s got a box, man.” The greasy little man chuckled nervously. “Even Diaz has a huge fucking box.”
“Good. We’re gonna use it.” Another evil grin below the dark goggles. “Three down, nine left. Now, normally, I’d just keep goin’. Six down… Nine down… Ya get where I’m goin’ with this. But things are changin’ here, an’ nobody wants t’ be on this planet twenty-four hours from now. So I suggest we make this work.”
Feeling a sudden dread, Jack looked around; other than a towering storm to the southwest, nothing appeared to be threatening anyone. Was the thunderstorm going to cause a major problem?
“What do you want, a gentleman’s agreement?” Boss shook his head even as he asked.
“I’ll leave one node in the open. You take it. The other node an’ the other ship are mine.”
“Hey, wait, wait.” Santana frowned, confused. “What are we playing here, retard bingo? That was on the table from the start.”
“Forget th’ start.” A crackle of lightning and thunder punctuated Rick’s dismissal. “It’s the end ya wanna think about now. See that?” His head moved to indicate the clouds. “I’ll give ya ‘til that rain hits that station. That’s your clock.” The old man eyed the weather cautiously, but his Vagos counterpart just fumed.
“‘Box-Boy’…” he muttered. Without further warning, the bastard reached into one boot top, drawing a small pistol and pointing it at the retreating con. The brunette started to whistle a warning as a mottled brown-and-black form burst from the bushes to knock Santana off his feet. Rick spun to see what had happened; the animal, possibly some sort of canine, leapt at the merc again, knocking away the holdout weapon.
“Dahl! Do it now!” Boss yelled, going to one knee. Behind him, Diaz turned to retrieve his rifle as another figure hurtled into the fight, appearing from behind the rocks. The clean-shaven escaped con lunged for his dropped knives as the sharpshooter’s weapon barked; the red circle of an autoinjector appeared as the man’s shoulder was knocked back. Eileen, now shrieking, grabbed Santana’s left arm—the dog-thing had his right one—and immobilized it, away from the small pistol.
“Again!” Another report, and another tranquilizer load hit Rick. The old man clotheslined Douchebag and clubbed the back of his leg with his own rifle. “Do it again, Dahl!” The third round appeared low on the Furyan’s left ribs, and he went to his knees. Santana flailed, trying to get to his little gun, but a small combat boot swung, knocking him out. Dusty and mussed, Eileen put her hands in the air as the canid sat back, its weight settling on the Vagos leader’s shoulders.
Riddick, too, relaxed fractionally as Boss approached him. Jack didn’t hear what they said to each other, her heartbeat thundering in her ears as a single punch laid out her brother-in-law. She rushed over to help her sister as the speckled beast made anxious noises.
“Dog.” The creature’s attention came to a laser focus at Eileen’s summons. “Stay with Jack.”
“That’s what he named it?” The brunette blinked. “Remind me t’ never consult him on kids’ names.” The older woman convulsed with giggles. “What?”
“You’ve got a boyfriend.” An aggravating smirk accompanied the singsong tone.
“Oh, do shut up.” Granted, she’d been hoping that she had a mate despite the odds, but how the hell was she going to go about having an amorous relationship with anyone? Especially with her childhood history.
Fortunately, Eileen didn’t pursue the subject as everyone moved or was moved inside again. Of the other mercs involved in the fight, Diaz managed the shift under his own groggy power; Lockspur reluctantly dragged in the man’s unconscious cousin. A terrified Vargas demanded that Rick be bound in the name of safety, but he failed to get enough support to have the same done to Jack’s sister. Luna just watched everything in a shocky silence.
Dusk fell as everyone waited for the prisoner to regain consciousness. Santana roused, and minutes later, the larger man’s breathing rhythm changed subtly. Shielding them from the core members of Clan Vagos briefly, Boss winked reassuringly at the adoptive sisters, indicating that he would maintain his act just a bit longer.
- 7
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Night Vision