Riddik's Story: Escape

Riddik hefted the unconscious girl in his arms, after detaching her clenched fingers from the grille and handle, and took her across the hanger to the back stairs, to the next level up where, apparently, there were cabins in this mess of metal. Twenty-Eight trotted after him, leaving Thirty-Two kneeling on the floor, flesh twitching with nerves, and looking like he could have used the same treatment Twenty-Eight had given her. Well, Thirty-Two was just going to have to learn how to cope, because Twenty-Eight needed to talk to Riddik, and Riddik was leaving with the child.

"What possessed you to bring her along, anyway?" he asked, feeling-- feeling, and reveling in it; the excitement of the day seemed to have given him at least a temporary boost in his emotions-- irritated by her unexpected presence.

"She wouldn't let go," Riddik answered with a shrug. "I did try to get rid of her a couple times."

"You could have just left her behind," Twenty-Eight pointed out.

"She could be useful as a hostage," Riddik shrugged again, shouldering open the first door on the right, or perhaps "winging" it open was more appropriate, since that was a actually what he used. "If we need one."

Which, of course, was not the reason he'd grabbed her to begin with. Twenty-Eight could feel the avoidance of the truth, the slight defensiveness, the-- what was that? Twenty-Eight had to shake off a moment of shock before he could answer. "If it gets out that you have a heart under that murderer's exterior," he said dryly, "your reputation will be ruined."

"Another comment like that," Riddik answered, "and we'll see what happens to that geas when I cut off your head." He sounded cheerful enough despite the spike of annoyance Twenty-Eight felt. The biped was usually much better at keeping his emotions to himself than this, being moderately psionic, himself-- not enough to resist Twenty-Eight's shackles, of course, but enough communicate and shield himself minimally when Twenty-Eight wasn't exerting himself. Perhaps the day's excitement was affecting him, too. Twenty-Eight smirked. So Riddik was mortal, after all.

"Well, if we're carting her along," he drawled, "she's your responsibility. Keep her away from Thirty-Two and me."

"Aw, but she's so charming," Riddik drawled right back, settling the limp body on the bunk along the far wall.

"I was not lying when I said I despise children, Riddik," Twenty-Eight told him shortly. "They are loud, messy, disrespectful, and difficult."

"Then we'll drop you off at the nearest space station," Riddik suggested. "Maybe find someone to cut us apart, and we'll both be out of your hair."

"I expect dropping her off at the nearest space station is more likely," Twenty-Eight said sourly. "Which, by the way, I need to talk to you about. Where exactly are we going?"

"Somewhere we can get a different ship," Riddik said, tucking a blanket around the girl and standing up again. "This one is too big, too slow, too primitive, and too recognizable. After that, my only plan is to find someone to lift the geas. What you do then is up to you."

"You've been away from Dev'anon Kinau before, haven't you?" Twenty-Eight asked pointedly as Riddik came out, shutting the door quietly behind him and pulling his goggles back down over his eyes again.

The tall fellow grinned at him, all teeth and ridiculous shaded lenses flashing in the light. "What makes you say that?" When Twenty-Eight just looked at him blandly, Riddik smiled even more and brushed past him, prowling down the hall and peering other rooms on the airship, all mercifully empty. All the little revenges were starting to add up, and Twenty-Eight didn't think he could stomach another bloody death.

"You're not even actually a construct," Twenty-Eight accused, following him.

"Took you this long to figure that out, did it?" Riddik said absently, more focused on his investigation than the conversation.

"Where are you from, then?"

"Nowhere important," Riddik shrugged, sniffing around what was probably the captain's cabin. "Don't remember much of it. I've been around a while. I just happened to crash-land on your little planet, and it took me a few years to get away."

"So what are you?" Twenty-Eight asked, eying him curiously. He obviously wasn't Kinauan, and if he wasn't a construct....

Again Riddik shrugged. "Beats me. But I'm not the strangest thing you'll see out here, either."

Twenty-Eight eyed him hopefully. "You know a lot about other people and other worlds, then."

It wasn't a question, but Riddik's head turned towards him with another of his fierce yet lazy grins. "I know some."

"You know somewhere where Thirty-Two and I can go?"

"I know lots of places you can go."

The smirk that accompanied Riddik's comment made Twenty-Eight frown. "Somewhere we will be safe and left alone," he clarified. "Preferably somewhere halfway civilized."

"Well, that narrows it down, doesn't it? Sure, I know a few places." Riddik swept out of the fancier cabin again. "Might even get you to one or 'em, if you aren't too much trouble and we don't end up dead first."

"What do you mean, dead?" Twenty-Eight demanded, trotting to keep up. "We got away. We're free now."

"They could always catch up," Riddik pointed out. "And there's more to worry about out there, worse to worry about, than your construction mages." He pushed open a door to what looked like a kitchen of some sort. "Hope one of you constructs know how to cook," he commented idly. "I'm sure the girl doesn't have a clue, and everything I make tastes like shit."

Eating was the last thing on Twenty-Eight's mind, just then. Maybe this "feeling" thing wasn't all he'd hoped it would be, because right now he just felt a little ill. He hadn't honestly thought farther than getting away from Dev'anon Kinau and its mages and its wars, certain Riddik knew what he was doing. But then, there really hadn't been time or energy for planning farther than that-- not when he'd only gotten details of the plan the day before, and not when he'd been too focused on getting this far to worry about what happened next.

"Maybe you'd better go take a nap or somethin' with your friend down there." Riddik was looking at him speculatively. "You don't look so good."

Twenty-Eight skewed his ears at him, showing a little teeth irritably. Riddik laughed and waved him off. "Go on, cat. I won't go too far. Doubt there is a 'too far' on this ship."

"That's probably true," Twenty-Eight grumbled, but he did leave. He was tired of Riddik's presence-- he had been tired of Riddik's presence for months, years even, but he still really didn't have anything he could do about it-- and the energy left over from the flight, panic, and take-off was finally draining out of him. And the energy it took to keep Thirty-Two quiescent, but not Riddik of Jay'tiel, wasn't there to replace it. He could herd Thirty-Two upstairs to pick out a cabin later-- maybe they could even get the captain's cabin; Riddik didn't need a bed that big-- but as he padded heavily down the hall, it felt like all he could do was put one paw in front of the other and keep his tentacles coiled and tails from dragging.

By the time he made it back down to the floor of the hangar, he was utterly exhausted, more utterly exhausted than he'd been since the last time Riddik made a concerted effort to fight Twenty-Eight's apathy-- and somehow kept up the fight for almost two days straight, so that neither of them could sleep or eat lest the other get the upper hand. Twenty-Eight had won that day, but only barely. Thank anything that would listen that those days were over. So he hoped, anyway.

Thirty-Two was already drowsing, worn out by the run, his fear, and being emotionally smothered for almost two hours. He shifted and huffed out air when Twenty-Eight dropped wearily beside him, draping his neck over Twenty-Eight's back. Twenty-Eight returned the favor with his tails thrown over the equine construct's back, putting his chin down on Thirty-Two's folded knees, shutting his eyes, and falling asleep with a weak purr fluttering in his throat.