Title: Interchange
Author: Minx
Fandom: Pitch Black
Pairing: Riddick/Fry
Rating: NC-17 for graphic violence.
Disclaimer: The Characters of Pitch Black are copyright to USA Films. There is no infringment intended by the use of them in this story. I claim none of those characters.
Summary; “They say most of your brain shuts down in cryo sleep, all but the primitive side, the animal side. No wonder I’m still awake.”
“Transporting me with civilians, sounded like forty - forty plus. Heard an Arab voice, some hoodoo holy man, probably on his way to New Mecca. What route? By what route?” “Smelled a woman, tool belt, leather, prospector type, free settlers and they only take the back route.”
“And here’s my real problem, Mr. Johns, blue eyed devil. Planning on taking me back to slam. Only this time he picked the ghost lane. A long time between stops”….”a long time for something to happen.”
Chapter One (Chapter 1-2, 3-4, 5-6, 7-9)
Riddick had spent more than a week patiently undoing a small, but vital, link on his cuffs. The bindings at his wrists were just one part of the restraints that tethered him in his cryo-tube. Riddick wasn’t sure it had been a week. He had lost track of time as he silently counted to a hundred, while carefully twisting, pulling and prising the link with his fingers. He stopped and rested for another count of one hundred, contemplating the inside of his blindfold for the millionth time, wondering just how many days he had been in the tube. He knew every knot in the fabric, every mark and blemish in the weave. He had counted the coarse stitches so many times he could’ve drawn them accurately down to the last one.
He relaxed his fingers, and his thought’s turned to his options once he was free. He needed a pilot; he’d already decided that. He didn’t think he could handle this ship on his own. His limited flight training didn’t give him the skills needed to handle a ship the size of the Hunter-Gratzner. Realistically it was out of his league. Better to get a member of the crew to pilot. So, who would he choose?
He had met the captain, been taken before him on his arrival at the ship. He’d been a big, burly man, the type to ‘take no crap’. He’d stared at his precious cargo with distaste, disliking the convicted killer before him, making his feelings very obvious to Riddick. So he was of no use, and would have to be eliminated at the first opportunity. Riddick needed someone more pliable, easier to manipulate.
Riddick knew these types of vessel were always stuffed with passengers and cargo but had the bare minimum of crew. He had noticed a woman in the pilot seat when he had been dragged on to the flight deck. Maybe he could make use of her, a couple of hard lessons and she would be his bitch to do as he pleased.
The Captain had made a grave mistake requesting that Riddick be brought to him on the flight deck. It had given him the opportunity to see the ship’s layout and the crew. The captain should have followed the usual procedures and come to him, stupidly, he had been too preoccupied with preparations for departure. Something had delayed the loading of the passengers and cargo, what Riddick didn’t know. Time was money to people like the Hunter Gratzner’s owners and there couldn’t be any delays. Riddick had inwardly smiled as he faked his reluctance to be hauled up in front of the captain’s smug self-satisfied face, all the while taking in the controls, the technical specifications and a myriad of minor details that would help in his escape.
Riddick finished another count of one hundred and began to fiddle with the link again. The counting was mundane and uninteresting, but the routine was the only way he had of keeping track of time. He had been doing this hour after hour, day after day, his rigid mental discipline the only thing keeping him focused, in the twilight world he inhabited in cryo sleep. But still his mind was in desperate need of occupation. He had recited every piece of writing he could remember. The stupid religious texts he’d been forced to learn at school. He had performed reams of mental calculations, adding and dividing and multiplying endless numbers. All the while still turning, twisting and working to gradually loosen the link.
Just a little more
.Just a little more.
Sometimes he dozed. Riddick never slept in cryo, he was always aware, his mind never rested. Living in a strange disconcerting zone, disorientated, dreaming, a sick stasis of life neither moving forwards nor staying still. And always time continued to pass, dragging its unwilling victim with it.
Then came the moment he had been waiting for. Part of the link opened, the weld holding it crumbling away. Riddick’s heart thumped in his chest. He pulled a little harder feeling the skin around his thumbnail tear with his renewed efforts. The link had to give. He had to get out of here. He couldn’t stay in this hot, sweaty lifeless cage a second longer. He wanted out, now! He pulled and pulled, squeezing his eyes closed, and his face contorting with the effort.
The link finally gave; its tentative hold with the cuffs separated and fell to the floor with a tiny metal clunk. The noise sounded enormous in the continual silence Riddick had been living in. The sound mocked him with its volume, testing his nerve. Riddick had desperately wanted it to happen, but the shock of feeling it coming loose and slip through his fingers stunned him into absolute stillness. He was concerned someone might have heard. Someone might come and spoil his plans, shackle him again. The thought made his heart skip a beat. Stupid, they were all asleep, enjoying the delights of fun filled cryo. He knew, rationally, that no one had heard a thing. The sounds of oxygen being pumped into each chamber and the continual hiss of the ship slicing through hyperspace hid any noise in the cryo-tubes. The chance of anyone hearing the tiny clunk of the link was infinitesimal.
Lucky shits.
Riddick slowly pulled his hand from the cuff and rotated his free wrist, feeling the bones pop and grate from the artificially induced stiffness.
Free…
Riddick wanted to grin in delight but the bit prevented him doing so. It stretched his mouth twisting and distorting his face. His muscles ached uncomfortably, always stuck in the same position and created a grim parody of a circus clown.
Still irrationally concerned that someone might hear his movements, he slowly moved his free hand to undo his other wrist, each movement measured and wary. He undid the circular band around his arm, smoothing his damp skin under the cuff and feeling the gritty dirtiness under his fingers.
His shoulders creaked from disuse as he lifted his hands to the back of his neck to undo the collar. The blood was flowing more freely now but his numb fingers couldn’t undo the bindings. He tried not to struggle and panic, but he had waited so long for freedom that it was hard to be patient any longer.
Finally the clasp answered his frantic pulling and the tension around his neck slackened. He rolled his head first to one side and then the other reveling in the movement in his neck; the muscles here were stiff and cramped too.
Next came the bit. He flicked the catch and, thankfully, it undid easily. He closed his eyes behind the blindfold and enjoyed the sudden release of pressure on the corners of his mouth. The freedom to lay his tongue flat caused an intoxicating rush of sensation through his body. To have control back after so many days of discomfort was delightful. He’d spent so many hours of shifting uncomfortably with all the bonds rubbing and chafing, never being able to settle and relax his body. He pushed the bit from his mouth with his tongue and cast it aside recklessly. It hit the floor with a resounding clang as metal connected with metal. The collar swung free still attached to the side restraints of the chamber.
Beautiful
He lifted the edge of his blindfold just enough to assess the lighting in the main cabin. It shone dimly through the laminate door of the tube, with no one moving around the ship, the lighting had been reduced to the absolute minimum. He could cope with that until he found his goggles. No doubt Johns would have them in his cryo- tube. Riddick pulled off the blindfold. The view from the tube hadn’t changed since he’d been wrestled him into it. Johns had finally shot him full of sedative to stop the struggling so they could chain him up. He’d decked one guard and broken the nose of another in the short space of being dragged from the flight deck to the cryo-tube chamber. The blood from the guard’s nose still stained Riddick’s filthy shirt.
Fuckers
He stood quietly, waiting for his circulation to respond to his renewed freedom. He rotated his shoulders until he felt them loosen sufficiently to grip the bulkhead above him and stretch upright. The muscles in his arms flexed, warming into activity. Safety regulations on civilian ships were that all prisoners had to be secured with quick release catches in the event of an accident, fire or other disaster befalling the vessel. He’d known that all he needed to do was free one hand and then the other restraints would take no time at all and he could just walk free. Normally, Riddick hated rules and regulations. This time, they were working to his advantage.
Idiots
He looked around at the inside of his tube, where the door hinged with the walls. He knew it was magnetically sealed. He bent awkwardly to undo his ankle cuffs. He needed them undone to force the door of the tube open. He also knew that the moment he left it, Johns would automatically be woken. The two tubes were linked and his could not be opened without the other, and only Johns or the captain could open his. Once he broke out he would have to deal with the blue eyed devil immediately. He couldn’t bend enough to reach the clasps without pushing against the door, and that might prematurely trigger the ‘wake up cycle’ in John’s tube.
Riddick stood and thought, still stretching his body. He leaned to the side of the tube, twisted his upper body to ninety degrees and slide down till he was almost crouching. His thighs didn’t like the sudden intense use of their muscles after being immobile for such a long period of time. Riddick felt for the clasps around his ankles again. He had to do this at the first attempt; he was too stiff to keep on repeating the action. The clasps surrendered to his pulling and he sighed with relief. His eyes moved to the discarded bit on the tube’s floor. He had an inspirational thought. His revulsion at the offensive article of humiliation almost prevented him picking it up again, but he would need every advantage against Johns. He needed a weapon. Grasping the bit in one hand, he used his other to help push himself back up.
He turned the bit over in his hands examining it. The metal bar that had sat in his mouth for so long almost thinned to a point at either end. He had thought he might be able to use it. He was right.
Shiv
Riddick began to twist the flexible metal bar that attached to one end of the mouthpiece and worked it back and forth in his hands. The bit had been designed to stop biting, not to restrain, so it wasn’t particularly strong. After very little persuasion, the metal gave and Riddick looked at the free end of the mouth piece. It thinned to a long point, rather like the old stiletto weapons of the Mafioso of Earth. Riddick grinned again. It wasn’t very sharp, but in the right spot, the sweet spot, no, not the sweet spot. Not this time...somewhere higher.
He refined the plan in his mind. Riddick hummed tunelessly, enjoying the sound of his own voice, it made a change from the usual noises of the ship that he had grown so tired of. He began going over the motions of the plan in his mind.
Johns, at last!
He was ready for the final part of his escape, the plan finalized in his mind’s eye. He fiddled with the makeshift ‘shiv’.. He wished he had his own, but any weapon was better than none. Taking a couple of quick deep breaths to calm his accelerating heart-rate he threw himself at the door of the tube, forcing it open with his shoulder. The magnetic lock sprang open and he tumbled to the floor outside, landing on the metal grating in the cryo-tube chamber. The coldness outside the secure environment of the tube took his breath for just a few seconds.
Fuck it’s freezing.
Most of the ships functions were closed down to save on power, it would take sometime for the settings to reactivate for human comfort. A hiss behind Riddick told him that John’s tube was waking him. Riddick knew he had to strike now. He hoisted himself to his feet and turned to face the cryo-tube. He wrenched open the door, Johns eyes flicked open at the sudden rush of cold air into his tube.
Riddick struck. With one hand he grabbed Johns around the throat, pushing him up against the wall of the tube. With his other hand he drove the spiked bit into the intercostals spaces between John’s ribs aiming to puncture a lung. Riddick stabbed hard but the makeshift weapon wasn’t long enough to create serious damage. He pulled the bit from the hole, his hand being simultaneously covered in frothy blood from the tiny puncture he had made.
Johns finally woke up enough for his eyes to register recognition of his assailant. Riddick wasted no time he raised the weapon and pushed into Johns left eye, shoving hard to reach into John’s brain. Riddick could feel vitreous fluid spurt from the ruptured eyeball and coat his hand mingling with the residue of John’s blood. He hung on to the now slippery bit as long as he could, pushing and pushing.
John’s body began to spasm; his brain had been punctured and was dying. His arms flailed and he twisted in Riddick’s grip. Releasing him, Riddick watched as Johns slid down the back wall of the tube and lay in a crumpled heap at his feet.
Riddick looked at the twitching body, enjoying the moment. He bent and retrieved his goggles, which had partially fallen out of John’s jacket pocket. He then searched the others, finding his shivs and a small pocket knife of Johns own taste, a mere toothpick to Riddick. He also found the mercs secret store of ampoules to feed his drug addiction. Riddick grinned as he thought of al the times he had watched Johns retching his guts up while fighting the fearsome withdrawal symptoms. He wouldn’t have to worry about that any more.
Riddick stepped backwards out of the cell, taking in the entire picture of the dead man; it was one he would enjoy remembering again and again.
Dead blue eyed devil
Riddick turned from the death scene and walked along the row of chambers, tucking his booty into his pockets. There were two rows of cryo-tubes facing each other, stretched down each side of the room. He peered into each one. Each had its own quietly sleeping occupant, blissfully unaware of the carnage that had taken place no more than a few feet from most of them. Riddick absent mindedly wiped his hand covered in John’s detritus down his filthy pants, adding another stain to the collection. So many tubes to choose from, he stopped to wipe condensation off of one, finding an attractive dark hair woman behind the damp Perspex surface. It wasn’t the pilot he’d seen on the flight deck. He moved on making mental notes of who was in each one. Whether the occupant was male or female, short or tall, strong or weak, specifically searching for the crew. Riddick felt like a kid in a candy store, so much choice.
Chapter Two
Riddick tilted the chair back into the semi-reclined position and swung it around from the navigation console. He brought it a full one hundred and eighty degrees until he faced the people standing in front of him. Not looking at either, he casually crossed an ankle over the other knee and began to pick his nails clean with a shiv. Both the man and the woman stood in silence. The man was deliberately stiffening his back in a show of defiance. His ramrod posture, accentuated his height, but did little to hide the middle aged bulge around his stomach. His graying hair and worn features centered round a hooked nose, creating a haughty expression. Riddick knew what Captain Mitchell was thinking--he was the Captain and no one was going to order him around on his ship! The woman was considerably younger, no older than himself Riddick surmised. She was trying to match the man’s bearing but was swaying and having serious trouble staying on her feet. Her thick blonde hair curling around her ears made her look slightly elfin in Riddick’s mind. He had always been fond of stories of elves and wizards. He’d frequently been beaten for bringing such blasphemous books into the school. He’d tried to hide them, but the brothers had been thorough in their searches for contraband, and ‘pagan’ books had been high on their list. She continued to stand, blinking and trying to hide her lack of alertness. The swaying gradually subsided, as her strength and equilibrium returned to her.
Riddick had revived both of them rapidly from their cryo-tubes. He hauled them out partly asleep, thrown them to the floor and shackled them with the spare restraints Johns had brought for him. He had frog marched them to the flight deck, not saying a word. Riddick wanted them vulnerable, disorientated and bewildered. Their weakness was his advantage. Now he would find out who was willing to cooperate. Riddick knew how this next part of the situation was going to go. It always went the same way. Protests, begging, and finally death…boring, boring, people were so predictable.
Let’s get on with it.
Riddick stopped picking his nails and laid the shiv carefully in his lap. The seemingly innocent gesture filled with intent. He looked Mitchell and said, “You are going to change course for the Anilo system.” Riddick paused to let this information sink in. He lifted his goggles and rested them on his forehead, allowing his prisoners the full effect of his eyes. Riddick watched the Captain bristle at the tone in his voice, unused to being spoken to in Riddick’s brusque manner. He opened his mouth to speak. Riddick leaned forwards in his chair, grasping the shiv from his lap loosely with one hand and wagged a finger at him.
“If you’re about to say something like ’neither I, nor my crew, will help you. Then you are wasting your time. You will do as I ask, or I’ll make you.” Mitchell shut his mouth with a snap and frowned crossly. Riddick grinned, having so easily stolen his carefully prepared retort. “I am not reasonable. I don’t negotiate and I have absolute control.” Riddick’s voice lowered to a frightening growl He continued. “I’ve done this before captain, several times in fact, as you are no doubt aware.” He smirked remembering his last escape and the furor it had caused. The Captain did not reply. He had nothing to say. Riddick had usurped the Captain’s power completely. Riddick turned his attention to Fry. He picked up his shiv from his lap and stood abruptly. He took a step towards her. She was startled and forgetting the shackles, she stumbled backwards crashing heavily to the floor with a pained gasp. Mitchell looked down at her concerned, but it was Riddick who moved to her side. His boots only inches from her face, he loomed over her like a nightmarish apparition.
He bent down so his face was level with hers and said, “You’ll help me, won’t you Carolyn Fry.” He paused again to let her digest that he knew her name. He hoped she’d realize that he had learned it from the ship’s computer manifest, along with her status on the ship…pilot. The actual entry had said docking pilot, but that still meant she had far more skill than Riddick for flying the ship. That was the specific reason he had released her. Before releasing them Riddick had taken at lot of time to explore the ship thoroughly. He’d accessed the computers, the safety codes had been laughable, and reviewed the passengers and crew details. There were forty passengers in total, well, thirty nine now that Johns was gone. Riddick grinned at the thought of the merc’s death. There were only three crew members. Three was better than he’d expected. Less crew less hassle.He had restored the ships environmental functions and then spent some time getting himself in order. He showered in Captain’s quarters, enjoying the hot water and pleasant smelling soap. Wallowing in the feeling of being clean. Such simple things were luxuries after weeks in cryo. He’d then found the galley. It was basic but produced what he wanted. He’d cooked an enormous meal and eaten until he was uncomfortably full. Then he’d gone back to the computer bank on the flight deck, and enjoyed the remainder of a packet of cigarettes he’d taken from Johns, while he looked over the star charts. He had already worked out in the cryo-tube where he wanted to go, but he hadn’t known if it was going to be feasible until he looked over the charts.
The Anilo system was well off the beaten track; tiny and with no planets valuable, either in minerals or strategically. Riddick had a friend he could call on. They lived on the third planet from the system’s sun, a lush green planet where he could hide out for a time. Getting there was feasible but it required a difficult sling shot maneuver, that only a well trained pilot could perform. It would also take the better part of six weeks to get to his destination. Six weeks of controlling the ship and anyone he chose to wake up. He would have to work hard to get where he wanted. Six weeks of little rest and constant surveillance of his crew would be a pretty tough price to pay for his escape and disappearance, but he would do it. But his choice of pilot would be crucial. He finally returned to the Captain’s quarters for twelve hours of uninterrupted sleep. He tumbled heavily into a dream laden state, full of images of his past and his expectant wishes for the future. Only when he had felt fully refreshed did he rouse Mitchell and Fry. Fry winced in pain again as she tried to dodge Riddick’s hand poised to stroke her cheek. She had smashed her elbow on the deck in her fall and Riddick could see the pained expression she was trying to hide from him. She lifted her chin. She felt the need to voice her opinion, and said, “The Captain has already made his feeling clear and--” Riddick, tilted his head to one side, and cutting her off he said,” But what are your feelings Carolyn?” He ran his fingers down her cheek, her sweat covered neck, and trailed them across her breasts. She never flinched.
Good girl…you’ll do nicely.
Riddick stood up and stepped over Fry. His movements were sharp, uncompromising, made deliberately to be disconcerting. He grasped Mitchell’s arm, and twisted him around to face Fry, his shackles clinking on the metal floor. He walked around behind him and leaned close to his ear and said, ”I will ask you one more time, because I like to think I’m fair. Will you change course and take me to the Anilo system?” Mitchell stiffened again, his military training dictating his tough demeanor. “I will not help a convicted mass murderer, to take control of a civilian ship with more than forty people on board.” He said, looking back over his shoulder first at the shiv no more than a hair’s breadth from his face and then to the murderer holding it. Riddick sucked his teeth, inhaled and sighed. “I thought that might be your answer.” He slid his hand around Mitchell’s neck and held his chin tightly, as he pushed the shiv in between his vertebrae, and up into the base of his brain. Riddick was so professional only the tiniest drop of blood was spilt. Mitchell’s eyes widened, mouth moving in silent protest, as he died. Riddick didn’t watch the Captain; he was paying special attention to Carolyn’s reaction. What would she do? She was sitting on the deck, open mouthed, stunned at the suddenness of events, revulsion and fear sweeping across her face. But she didn’t vomit or start screaming hysterically at the sight of a dead man.
You’re tough enough
.Riddick had got what he wanted from her. Dragging Mitchell’s body from the flight deck, he dumped it outside in the corridor. Wiping his shiv on his thigh as he walked back to Fry. He briefly looked up to see she was gone. He stopped amazed that she had moved in her shackled and slightly injured state. Fry launched herself at him from behind a supporting bulkhead, screaming obscenities as she moved towards him. Her attack was more bravado and uncontrolled fury, than an accurate and calculated attack. She landed squarely in Riddick’s arms. Riddick stumbled backwards, only just retaining his balance as he adjusted to having her weight in his arms. She slid down his body and he grabbed her hands clawing his face. He twisted her arms around her in a living straitjacket to bring her under control. He pushed her a few steps across the room, up against the ships bulkhead, using his body as a huge wedge. She tried to bite his hands, engulfed by him but still she continued to wriggle, squirm and in a new trick to stomp on his toes. A pointless exercise with steel toe capped boots on, Riddick thought, although he couldn’t help admiring her audacity and courage. He wondered if maybe he had picked the wrong crew member to revive. Well, if she turned out to be trouble he had one more left. “You have 10 seconds to get it out of your system, Carolyn, then you either do as I say or I’ll kill you.”
Riddick wasn’t sure she’d heard him in her blazing fury and maintained his pressure up against her body. Quite rightly she seemed consumed with rage at her Captains death, he had just been slaughtered right before her eyes, and now she wanted to hurt Riddick for it. The feel of a woman that close to him was a huge turn on. He rubbed up and down her back. Her ass pressed against his groin was intoxicating. Licking his lips, he seriously considered it.
Hmmmmm…could I make you squeal Carolyn?
He tightened his grip with one hand and pressed himself harder against her. Moving his other hand to the button at the top of her pants, her flicked it open and slid down her zipper. Fry gasped and stood still realizing what his intentions were. She rapidly renewed her fighting with him. Riddick was unconcerned at her frantic efforts to shove him off. He pushed his hands inside her pants his fingers massaged the smooth flesh under his hands, as he moved down to her sweat covered ass. He was so tempted. She felt so good but he needed her compliant and useful, not a destroyed bloody heaving wreck. He would have to wait for another time. He removed his hands and whispered in her ear. “It’s your lucky day.” Carolyn stopped struggling, seemingly understanding his words. His tone was condescending enough to imply that he could take her anytime he pleased. Riddick eased his body away from her. Her head slumped forward as Riddick let go and she collapsed in disheveled heap onto the floor, sobbing. Her hair was plastered to her face and her clothes hanging off her. Riddick now had her absolute obedience. Her little display against him couldn’t have been more helpful in reinforcing who was in charge. Riddick bent down to her trying to ignore her disarranged clothes exposing her body. He took her chin in his paw like hand and tilted her tear stained face towards him. ”Get over it Carolyn, it was either him or you.” He released her chin and strode away to the navigation console to lay in his new course.
(Chapter 1-2, 3-4, 5-6, 7-9)