::TWENTY SEVEN::

“Jane, wake up.”

She wakes instantly, making a move to roll out of bed, move up front. Not quite fully alert. Just going through the motions now, her instincts taking over. Reasoning will come later. I pull her back at the last moment. Franks has already turned away, respecting her nakedness, moving to the back to bring my clothes, left by the bathroom door. He drops hers, sticky and heavily clotted with blood still, stiffening as they dry. Pull the sheet over her, as I sit up beside her.

My shirt hangs down to mid thigh on her. It’ll have to do. Maybe not the most appropriate time for me to be noticing how sexy I think she looks in my shirt. The heel of her hands rubbing her eyes, as she quickly moves up front. If she notices she’s half naked, she does a pretty good job of not being bothered by it. A professional.

Watching the monitor, her face instantly alert and hard, strapping herself in. The only time she ever did that before was when we went through the asteroid field. The thought of another one of those flights makes my gut drop.

“When did you first spot them, Franks.”

Not so much a question as a debriefing. I pull on cargoes and boots, sit in the co-pilots chair a moment, catching her eye, strapping myself in at her imperceptible nod.

“About fifteen minutes ago. I had to run a second scan, I wasn’t sure if it was just a regular freighter. We’re close to a shipping lane.”

“…..fuck…….Make sure Johnson’s out cold for this, Franks, in case it gets rough. I don’t want him waking up in the middle of it. Strap him down. You better strap into that seat behind Riddick.”

“I’m staying with Johnson.”

“Fair enough. Just make sure you’re secure. You’ve done this with me before, Franks, you know how rough it’s going to get back there.”

“What are we looking at…”

“Heavy freighter, not quite in the same class as the Decatur. No way to tell how she’s armed. She’s shielded. Probably would have continued to think she was just a freighter, but she’s sending out no signals. A regular freighter sends out all sorts of chatter. And there’s this…”

Tapping on the monitor, throwing the heads up display on the front shield, so I can see exactly what it is she’s talking about. She’s flicking switches, the Virago’s normally silent running now a deep thrum. Fully armed. She’s counting missiles. Looks like we’ve got eleven left, after she took out the fighter sent to pick her up at Epsilon 4.

“…looks like about four small fighters, moving in fast, same class as the ones we ditched in the rockfield. Not surprising. Probably been keeping an eye on the Decatur for a while. Fucking Dufresne…”

She goes quiet at that, still too close to the betrayal to really talk about it. She’s working over the monitor again, transferring targeting of the missiles to me, after another of those quick sidelong glances. A quiet question. Don’t say anything, just nod. I’ll be her gunner.

“I tend to get close to fight, Riddick, as you’ve probably already figured. Less chance of missing that way. This is going to be fast and ugly, when they get here. This isn’t going to be so much a fight, as a run for home. No way we can tangle with that freighter, especially when we can’t read what she’s carrying….It’s going to hit once I send the signal home…..”

She’s waiting, a deep breath. Her hand strokes over the wheel of the Virago, almost a caress. When I first flew with her, I was too busy trying to keep from throwing up to really see the sensuality in her. Watching her kill while we were in Epsilon, it was the same thing. Not used to looking at women that way, maybe just not used to seeing a woman that would see the beauty in something I’ve had as part of my life for so long. She looks back at Franks, who nods at her. He’s strapped himself into the back, with Johnson, who isn’t going anywhere. Another deep breath, before flicking on the comm system. I’m watching the four fighters on the HUD, starting to move closer at the opened signal.

“Decatur….We’re coming in hot. Heavy freighter, unfriendly, unclear as to armament. Four fighters loosed. Shut down the comm system for the moment. Out.”

The acknowledgement is quick. No questions. The four fighters are moving in fast. She waits, baiting them for a moment longer, before rolling over, pulling the Virago in a loop. Don’t need the HUD to watch now, as we pass the fighters, moving in the opposite direction now, in the left side of the shield. Her grin is back, watching them almost stop short at her pulling nearly alongside them. Jane likes to play with her kills, a thought I can’t help but smile at.

Artificial gravity doesn’t do anything for your gut, as she continues the loop, coming in behind the four fighters. She rolls underneath the hindmost fighter, and, having seen her do this once already, knowing she’ll pull away clean, I drop a missile right into it’s belly. The plume of fire engulfs us for a fraction of a second, rivulets of flame running back from the shield like water, and we’re out.

Almost on top of the second fighter, she swoops in overtop, actually bumping the fighter, not quite from behind. She grins at me again, as I fire a missile into the back end, ripping the fighter apart. She’ll pulling ahead fast to avoid the debris.

The remaining two fighters pull off, heading back the way they came. Watch her knuckles grow white on the wheel. Fighting with herself. Wanting to take the other two out. She settles for making a run for the Decatur, pulling out all the stops. Shutting down the HUD display, the stars shift, brighten in the front shield. Never realized just how fast the Virago was before. Her face is grim and hard. She hates running. Sometimes it’s the best option.

The Decatur’s bay is already open, and she’s coming in fast. Barely slows down, and only at the last possible moment. Unhooked from her straps, she’s up and moving to the back, her hand on Franks’ shoulder, a question, opening the hatch. Grabbing her boots from the mess of her clothes. I help Franks get Johnson out, listening to Jane bark orders to two men who are running across the bay to her. Completely oblivious to the fact that she’s wearing nothing but a tank shirt. Not that I think anyone would take her lightly. The authority in her voice is clear.

“Close those bay doors, secure everything else….Anyone tracked that freighter yet…”

She has one of the men help Franks get Johnson to the med bay, before turning on her heel, and making a run for her quarters, with me a step behind the entire way. I have no intention of leaving her alone. Not this time. The second man runs beside her, as she continues issuing orders. The opening of armament lockers. Says to open a comm channel, in case there’s a need for it. She’s shaking her head at that. I guess it’s just standard operating procedure. She clearly doesn’t have much faith in it. Knows talking is just that, talking. The man continues to run down the hall, disappearing down one of the corridors. There’s no question that he’ll do exactly what he’s been asked. From what I watched of her before any of this started, she doesn’t really run things, except, like Franks said, when things go wrong. And then she does.

Her room still smells like the both of us, when we get there. She’s pulling my shirt over her head, handing it back to me. Hard not to watch her as she walks across her room naked, pulling clothes out of a drawer, getting dressed quickly. It isn’t until she’s ready, and by my side at her door again, that she stops.

“Sorry about that. Not really nice to tease, is it?”

Her nakedness probably didn’t even occur to her. I get the feeling that if she didn’t have my shirt to wear, she still would have done the same thing. Marched right off the Virago naked. Single minded. Very focused. Shame and embarrassment, wasted emotions when it comes to survival. She keeps surprising me. Lean down and kiss her hard and fast.

“I have no intention of leaving you. You’re not sending me away like them…” nodding my head down the hall to the two men she’s barked orders to, “Just thought you should know that.”

She leans up, returning my kiss, her hand on my jaw. Breaking with a sigh of regret, pinching the skin between her eyebrows.

“….Fuck….”

“Later.”

Grinning back up at me, moving out into the corridor. She’s headed for the bridge. Nobody stops what they’re doing when she gets there, just moving out of her way. There’s eight people in the room now. She’s watching a monitor in front of her, as the freighter moves in, gun ports open.

“Not exactly friendly, is it.”

Not looking for an answer, and she gets none. Opening a comm channel. Standing back, her arms crossed, her face hard. She signals to the man who was at the comm to take a seat at a weapons panel. Sends out a generic hail signal. The answer isn’t long in coming, the tinned voice sounding efficient and bored.

“Decatur…This is USM Portugal. We have an arrest warrant for Adams, Jane, ex- lieutenant colonel. A ship is being sent to dock with you. Any attempt to interfere with the arrest will result in the destruction of the Decatur with all souls aboard.”

“Definitely not friendly.”

She’s covering the mike for the comm system, quietly talking to a man next to her, who gets up, and runs from the room. She doesn’t offer any insight into what was said. All I heard was Franks. What would she be needing Franks for? Her head drops for a moment, hands clenched into fists at her side. When she begins to speak again, her voice is like steel. Cold and dangerous.

“Portugal…Any attempt to dock with or board the Decatur will be met with force. There will be no arrests made today. If there’s still anyone with any sort of viable military experience left on a Company run ship, you might want to put them on. Maybe talk this thing out before it gets out of hand.”

“Decatur…to whom are we speaking…”

“Adams, Jane, ex LC.”

The comm goes quiet for a few minutes, and Franks comes up behind me, looking paler than usual. Looking to me. Shake my head. I don’t know what she’s up to either. From what I’ve seen of how Jane thinks so far, it’s sure to be dangerous, just a matter of to who. When the comm comes back on, it’s a male voice, with a slow thick drawl.

“Adams. I’d say it was nice to hear from you again, but, given the circumstances…”

Everything he says seems to take twice the time it should to say it.

“McCormick. I suppose I could say the same. You know I have no intention of having them take me alive.”

“They DO seem pretty set on taking you alive, Adams.”

A shuffle on the comm system on the other ship. McCormick seems flustered when he gets back on, his first words spoken with a thicker drawl, before he evens himself out again. Jane cocks her head to the side. Listening to the way he’s saying it, not just the words themselves.

“They have nuclear missiles aimed at the Decatur now, Adams. They’ll scuttle her, if you don’t come back with the boarding party.”

“You scuttle my ship, I’ll be dead. You know how this works, I go down with the Decatur. Ask those guys standing behind you whether they’de be happy with me being dead. They want me alive for a reason, McCormick. We served together. You know how this plays out. ”

“I don’t want you dead, Adams. But they are going to bring you in, one way or the other.”

“McCormick, what the hell have they got you doing over there, reading off a script? There were four of us that walked off that planet. You know what’s really going on here, and you probably have a pretty good guess why they’re insisting I be taken alive. It’s not going to happen. Any attempt to destroy my ship, and they’ll get exactly the last thing they want. I’m willing to die for this, McCormick. You know how far I’d go….By the way, if you have anything you’d like to say to Johnson, you should probably be quick about it. The man they sent here after me last shot the hell out of him. He might not live through the day. Then it would just be the two of us left.”

“Petrie’s dead too?”

“Your guys killed him two years ago, McCormick. Probably one of those fuckers standing behind you, poking you with that sheaf of papers, issued the very order that had him brought in and tortured to death to give me up. Guess he didn’t talk. Johnson didn’t either. Where’s that leave you, McCormick?”

McCormick was with her and Johnson on Trieste 9. One of the four out of a thousand to get off that planet. Now sent to serve an arrest warrant on her. Except I doubt he had much say in it. There’s a struggle on the other side of the comm system. McCormick’s drawl is replaced by the bored voice from before.

“We’re sending in a boarding party now, Ms Adams. Any attempt to interfere will result in the deaths of your entire crew, including yourself. Clearly, you have an instinct for survival. We have no intention of killing you. It makes no sense for you to resist.”

“You really have no idea at all about me, do you sweetheart. Decatur out.”

She’s grinning. A very dangerous grin. Cutting the comm system. Asking a man to take over, giving him very specific instructions. Instructions which make Franks go even paler than he was before.

“There’s going to be a signal from within the Decatur shortly. When it comes up, I want everything put towards the amplification of that signal. I want it directed here…” She’s pointing at a spot on the man’s starchart, “…and I want it beamed directly to the Portugal, hack it if you have to. I want McCormick to hear this. He wasn’t always a fucking lapdog.”

“Jane, don’t….”

She turns and marches off the bridge, that same hard, half crazy grin on her face.

“What the fuck’s going on, Franks….”

He’s not answering, trying to catch up with Jane, who’s down the hall headed for the med bay. She walks up, holding the hand of Johnson, still unconscious, for a moment, before turning to Franks, who’s entered the room behind her.

“You can’t ask me to do this, Jane.”

“No choice, Franks. You know that if they fire on the Decatur, they’ll kill everyone on board, including me. Play it my way, take a chance, and you CAN bring me back. Maybe touch off something that could put this whole fucking thing to an end.”

“WHAT THE FUCK IS GOING ON!”

Franks looks haggard. He’s moving to prepare a group of syringes, not looking at me. Jane’s come up to me, her hand on my chest.

“I have to die, Riddick, it’s the only way the signal can be sent.”

I shake her hard, once, wanting to do more, and hating that I’ve done it in the first place. Try to relax my hand, try to stop squeezing her arm. It’s going to bruise. I can’t let go. Franks looks like he’s going to faint. All the things that man has seen. I’ve never seen him look like this.

“You’re MINE, Jane. You belong to me. No fucking way is this happening, no way do I let him just kill you.”

“If the Portugal fires on us, with nuclear missiles, we’ll ALL be dead. Franks can bring me back. AFTER the signal goes out. I’m not too fond of dying either, Riddick. Spent my whole fucking life avoiding it. It’s the only option we’ve got. Or we ALL die, and NO ONE is coming back. I can’t run from this one. No time left.”

“Jane…no…” I hate the pleading in my voice, the hurt. If I was younger I’d probably back out and leave. Leave her to this. Probably hop in a bird and try to make a break for it, leave everyone here to die. Tell myself some story about how I shouldn’t have got so close. I’m not a fucking kid any more.

“Stay with me, Riddick….please?…….”

Her voice is quiet and a little frightened now, once what she’s doing has really settled on her. She’s looking at the floor. Maybe doesn’t want to see it, if I turn away from her and leave. I can’t leave. It’s too late for me to leave her now.

“You can bring her back, Franks?….”

He’s nodding at me. Says “yes” out loud, at my hard look. It hurts, to help her up onto the table. I tell Franks to turn the lights down, so I can take my goggles off. Hold her hand, she’s shaking, and her skin is cold. Afraid. I’ve never really seen her afraid before. Lean down to kiss her, not wanting to watch as Franks cleans a spot on her arm with alcohol, and injects her with a drug to kill her.

The quiet gasp, as it enters her bloodstream. A sob, from Franks, leaning against the counter, with another syringe in his hand. To wake her up. He’s watching his watch, not caring at the tears streaming down his face, past embarrassment about it now.

Her back starts to arch, and I struggle to hold her, as she fights, fights to live, despite the drugs in her that are determined to kill her. Gasping for breath, unable to speak or scream out, her face in so much pain. Fighting. Her hand holding mine tightening. If her hands were any bigger, they would hurt. Her other hand gripping the sheet beneath her hard enough to rip it, the sound horrible in the room. Her feet pushing her back, making her arch more across my arm. I try to hold her down. Making me hold even tighter to her, feeling her heart pound, and grow arhythmic. Pressing tight to her, to keep her from falling, as she falls into death, her heart stilling, her gasping for breath growing more erratic. Her feet stop pushing her back, lying weakly on the table. Her hand releases the sheet beside her. Breathing stops, her bladder lets go. The last thing to release is her hand in mine, no longer gripping me fiercely. I’m not letting her go. I won’t.

“….Jane…..”

copyright © 2006 xxxevilgrinxxx

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