“There’s something not right here, Riddick, can’t you feel it?”
“I don’t much like it either, we have to wait to fuel up though, not much that can be done about that.”
“How long does that usually take?”
“A ship this size, about 4 or 5 hours. I was hoping to stretch our legs a little, get something decent to eat, I don’t think that’s going to happen.”
“I want you to sleep, be prepared to get out the second we’re done.” My hand on your chest, to stifle your complaints. “Riddick, we’re in trouble here, but it won’t happen right now. I need you to be alert and ready for it when it does. I can’t fly. You’ve been awake longer than me. Don’t argue.”
I can’t help but smile at that, a little. You’ve been on alert since that rat eyed you up. I think you saw something you didn’t like either. I looked over this ship, and she looks clean, I don’t think the problem is here. I think it’s in the wait to fuel up. You sense it too.
I don’t sleep in the back, but stretch out in the pilots chair, and I don’t sleep deep. It’s not like I’m curled up with you here, this is a whole different game, and I sleep lightly, waiting for you to wake me.
An hour goes by. I don’t know anything about ships, wouldn’t even know what I was looking at, but I know people well enough. The filling crew is clean, little more than kids, talking quietly among themselves, watching gauges and hoses. They’re far enough away that I can slip out behind the ship without being seen. I doubt even you heard me.
There’s something wrong here, I felt it the minute that slug looked at me.
Slip out, down towards the shack. He’s alone. Dozing in his chair. The door is locked, but I’ve broken into more places than I care to remember, and the simple lock presents no problem. Keeps a short bat by the door, for defense I guess, I’m assuming he will change his mind tomorrow about that, if he lives through the night. Quick blow, just enough to stun. I work quickly and quietly. A filthy rag, and a bit of tape, will keep him quiet for a while. Strap him to that chair.
There’s no one else around, and no one has heard. I scan the hanger, crouched low to the ground, before slipping back, through the shadows, to the ship.
I’m awake. A split second before your lips touch my ear. A whisper, like silk.
“Wake up, Riddick.”
If we were anywhere else, I’d be hoping to take you to bed after a greeting like that, but your eyes tell me something else.
You don’t make another sound, but take my hand, until I follow you out the side, and, two shadows, we make our way towards the shack, and slip inside.
His head lolls to the side, drooling, but he’s breathing all right. He’s just out. I watch as you grab a small stack of what’s supposed to be clean rags from a shelf, and move a chair in front of the creep. I move behind him, not sure what you’re planning, but willing to play along.
“You are in the most interesting position of playing good cop, Riddick.”...as you slap him hard enough to rock his head back, waking him up.