Riddik's Story: Escape

Because he was just that nice of a guy, once Riddik found the galley and put together something to eat for himself-- he wasn't the best cook ever, but he made due pretty well, after being on his own as long as he could remember-- and fed Gray surreptitiously as he ate, he brought some of it out for the shipmates. The captain was mollified by the arrival of lunch, though she still wasn't happy about the surprise guest, and Riddik left the kid's sandwich on one of the empty rooms' beds and figured he'd find it eventually, or he wouldn't. Hopefully he would. Riddik figured the kid could use some more meat on him, before he stunted his growth, or something.

Then he brought the slab of rare meat out for Twenty-Eight, who as far as he could tell, hadn't even left the docking chamber. "Here kitty kitty kitty," he called as he came out from the hallway.

The lash of bright white fur that was Twenty-Eight's tail caught his attention, out by the docking clamps, and Riddik headed over. "You hungry, cat?"

"Not particularly," Twenty-Eight said, sitting neatly in the farthest corner, one tail fllipping around behind him and the other curled around his paws, eyes glinting in the light. Too much light, in fact, which made Riddik pull his goggles down over his eyes, and made Gray, who was back in his shirt, duck further back..

"Well, there's food if you want it." He tossed the plastic plate with its barely-cooked steak onto the floor. No skin off his back if the cat didn't actually eat it. The captain might be pissed if he left it there, but Riddik didn't care.

"Where are we going?" Twenty-Eight asked, not even looking at the potential meal. His eyes were unwaveringly on Riddik.

"We're goin' to find our old ship," Riddik said slowly, giving the cat a mildly surprised look. Had the hatching turned him stupid, or something? "And your precious horse. Like you've been whinin' about wanting to do for months, now."

"I do not whine," Twenty-Eight said primly. And while Twenty-Eight was normally a prim bastard, that sounded a little odd, even for him. Though Riddik couldn't say exactly how, it just sounded... well, wrong, somehow. Like the cadence was off or the tone or-- something. Riddik eyed him from behind his goggles, trying to work it out in his brain.

"What happened in there?" he asked finally.

"Nothing at all," Twenty-Eight said blandly. "The little beasts hatched. A couple goddesses threatened each other." A tiny smirk, both like and also oddly unlike Twenty-Eight's usual expressions, appeared on his muzzle. "The chaos goddess decided not to smack down the corruption goddess. All in all, fairly dull."

"Only you would think deity show-downs were 'fairly dull'," Riddik rumbled, trying to figure out just why the cat's mannerisms were bothering him, but keeping the confusion behind his hidden eyes. "Well, eat that soon." He grinned toothily. "Before it gets cold."

Twenty-Eight said nothing more, but Riddik hadn't really expected him to. Instead, merely snorting in a very Twenty-Eight-like way, the cat looked away without another sound, across the docking chamber, and Riddik, shaking his head at himself, left him to it. If there was something wrong with the beast, it'd come out eventually. And if he'd changed his mind about missing Thirty-Two, well, Riddik certainly wasn't about to complain if he wanted to leave the idiot horse behind in the end.

As Riddik walked away, Twenty-Eight tried to call out to him. Tried to follow him. Tried to twitch, anything to get his attention again. If anyone could help him, surely Riddik could, couldn't he?

Oh, I don't think so, the voice that was and was also definitively not his own thoughts purred. A childlike, female version of him. He has a wonderful soul, probably will be delicious to corrupt the rest of the way, but nowhere near the power it would take to oust me.

Twenty-Eight didn't think he'd ever felt panic and terror before now. They were powerful emotions, and he never felt powerful emotions. Even his worry for Thirty-Two had been nothing, had been a mere distraction from boredom, compared to this. But never before had his very body and mind been taken away and replaced with-- with something else. Riddik thought he had come away from the hatching alone, unbonded, undamaged. Riddik thought nothing was wrong.

Well, then, Riddik is wrong, isn't he?

For the first time since Twenty-Eight had known him, yes, Riddik was wrong.

What do you want with me? he asked her, from the small corner of his own mind he had been relegated to, a mere observer behind his own eyes. I am nothing to you, why did you even bother with me?

His body made a purring chuckle of sound, and sniffed at the meat Riddik had brought delicately. Because it will be fun, Hupomone told him in his mind. And because you suit my needs.

Twenty-Eight tried to growl, but it came out merely a feeble, frightened whisper of thought and emotion. It didn't even make its way to his throat.

Hupomone laughed. That one did make its way to his throat, and it sounded unreal, unnatural. Twenty-Eight never laughed. Poor little kitten, she purred at him, her words sounding far too adult for a newborn. Can't even growl properly. I suppose you are as unused to that as you are laughter, aren't you?

Since Twenty-Eight never really growled, either, he had to grudgingly admit she was right. What will you do? he asked her. When we find Thirty-Two and Jay'tiel?

Hupomone, reacting either to her own hatchling hunger or maybe Twenty-Eight's own vague desire to keep his body alive, didn't answer, busily and messily learning how to eat. She took large bites, hardly chewing before she swallowed it down, tearing into the meat with such gusto that gobs of it went everywhere. Twenty-Eight winced at even the distant feel of blood and juices on his face, caught in his fur and whiskers, flecking his paws and tail and the ends of his tentacles. Please, let me, he pleaded. Just for a moment. I'll show you how to do it without making a mess. And I'll show you how to clean up afterwards.

The godling paused, considering, and licked his muzzle. All right. But do not think this means I am going to give you yourself back entirely.

With no more warning than that, she receded into the back of his mind, and he found himself rather rudely dropped back into his own skin. Even her warning didn't quite deminish the relief Twenty-Eight felt at suddenly having control over his own body again. He could feel his claws flex on the floor, feel his tails flick and lash from their previous stillness, tighten the curl of tentacles against his back, shake blood and bits of meat from his whiskers. The emotion lasted only a few seconds, though, before he fell to demolishing the rest of the steak Riddik had left-- neatly. The hunger lingered, whether it was his own or not, and he felt an insatiable urge to fill it.

"That is you?" he accused as he ate, speaking aloud because he could. He didn't care if anyone else heard him. He had his own voice and he was going to use it. "Isn't it? The hunger."

Clever kitten, her voice said dryly in the back of his mind. It reminded him in that briefest moment of Riddik, and irritated him, vaguely. The irritation faded under another surge of hungerhungerfeedmehunger and he went back to eating without a second thought. At least you aren't difficult to influence, whether or not I am directly controlling you.

She was manipulating him? Controlling him even while giving him control? Twenty-Eight knew the principle-- it was like what he and others like him did, amplifying or muting an emotion to get the desired ends. He could have balked at that, he even did for a split second, but what was the point? She was far more than he was, and he had his body back, at least for now. If she wanted to lead him around like this, for now, she could-- eventually he'd find his freedom, but right now he'd play along.

He could feel her amusement, but firmly ignored it. "Don't you want to be yourself?" he asked, chewing heartily. "Not have to ride around in a body that isn't yours?"

Not yet. I like this arrangement better. For now.

"Riddik will figure you out, you know."

I'll deal with that when it happens.

The hunger was abating-- thankfully, since so was the meat-- and Twenty-Eight was pretty sure his mild disgust at how dirty he felt was his own. After licking the last of the juices from the empty plate, he set about grooming himself. He could feel her attention, learning as he had implied she could when he asked for his body back. It would take her more than one little observation to learn how to groom properly-- maybe if he was lucky she would find the action repetitive and boring, rather than soothing as he felt, and she'd let him handle it all the time.

As he was finishing chewing tangles out of his tail, he was hit with a wave of inexplicable exhaustion. He felt like he was swaying where he sat, his eyes burned, his head was heavy, there was an imperative in his brain for sleep, and the cool metal floor looked so inviting--

--and it was her, again. This time he recognized it more quickly. "At least let me take us to a room with a bed," he huffed, trying to shake it off.

But I'm tired, and this seems perfectly fine to me.

"Beds are much more comfortable and safer, too. Less chance of being trod on or kicked, and no chance whatsoever of being sucked out the airlock and into space." Besides, he had spent so long sleeping on floors that, now that he was free--

Hupomune snickered.

--he intended to never have to sleep on a floor again.

I should make you fall asleep right here, right now, just to spite you.

"You'll like it better, too," Twenty-Eight coaxed.

In the end, at least, he got his way. She let him get up, weave his way, under her heavy blanket of sleepsleeptiredsleepnow, to one of the empty crew cabins, and crawl up onto the bed, turn around once, and curl up, tucking his paws under and his tails over his nose.

But after that, she got her way, and they slept.