Riddik's Story: Escape

The next day-- by ship's time, anyway, since "days" were very relative in deep space-- Riddik pulled the ship out of lightspeed in a small galaxy with a few deep-space refueling stations. Theirs was a small craft and they needed a pit stop before they continued the second leg of their journey, where hopefully there would be their old ship and companions, and they could let the captain pick up a crew she actually liked that was waiting for her there.

While the captain radioed the station requesting permission to dock and refuel, Riddik checked the long-range and short-range scan results. They were the only ship in the area, it looked like, which was just fine by him.

As they got permission, suddenly the scanning screen beeped and flashed at him, and Riddik immediately pulled the ship sharply starboard and upward, throwing the captain back into her seat and jarring the passengers in the rest of the ship.

A weapons blast exploded right where they'd been a moment before.

"Looks like they were looking for us, after all," Riddik commented blandly.

"They?" the captain demanded. "They?? What, you mean the people you stole the kid from?"

Definitely was smarter than she looked, that woman.

"Nothin' to worry about," Riddik told her, yanking the ship back to port again and doubling back over its own path to avoid another spray of the energy guns.

"Nothing to worry about, he says," she muttered, buckling herself in again quickly and gripping the seat's arms tightly with one hand. With the other, she turned on the inner-ship radio. "Attention passengers. We are under attack. Find somewhere secure and stay there, the ride's going to be a little bumpy."

As she switched it off again, Riddik lurched the ship straight up, sending her slamming back into her seat again. It was flying better than he'd expected it to, given its age and model, actually. But that wouldn't save their asses-- not that alone. "You ever been gunner before, captain?" Riddik asked.

"Gunner?" she repeated faintly.

"Yeah. You know." The ship lurched starboard again, then spun into a dive. "Guns. Shooting. Taking down enemy ships."

"This is a merchant vessel--"

"--and all merchant vessels fly armed. That's why pirates lead such a risky life. Get on the damn guns."

Rather than protest again, the captain turned her chair and slid it along the ramp it was attached to, back to the gunman's position. Perhaps the sudden shake the ship gave as it took a glancing blow had been enough to convince her. "Light damage to the second port thrusters--"

"Then redirect through the third and first port thrusters," Riddik ordered, voice sarcastic, sending the ship spinning again. Artificial gravity held, but it was still very bumpy, and he wouldn't be surprised if Twenty-Eight was getting motion sickness, or something.

At least Riddik could say the captain was quick, and she knew her ship. The second thruster was not only compensated for in mere seconds, it was on its way to being sectioned off so the damage couldn't spread. Then she had her hands on the top-side gun and her face pressed to the sights. "Turn us around, I can't see them!"

"Hold your horses--"

"You're the one who kept saying to hurry up!"

"I got a plan, woman, shut up and let me use it!"

Though he heard her teeth grinding, she shut up, and he spun the ship around again, this time up, right between their two attackers, which both scattered in opposite directions. Then he pulled out and into pursuit. "Fire," he told the captain, grinning wolfishly at what he knew would happen.

She did, and one of the two noisy proximity warning claxons disappeared as they flew through the debris, now too small to cause them any damage. "Bringin' 'er about."

The second tiny ship hardly knew what was coming. These were only two-man vessels, it looked like, sleek and black and shaped like the Fate was, equipped with a kind of teleportation ability rather than a warp drive or hyperdrive or any other technology for going faster than light. It was interesting, but Riddik didn't find it interesting enough to not destroy it.

Apparently neither did the captain, because after another round of fire, while they chased the little ship away from the refueling station, it, too, imploded from damage sustained, then scattered into useless debris.

"That was fun," Riddik decided, sitting back in his chair.

"You have a twisted idea of fun," the captain growled at him, pushing her chair back into position and picking up the radio, which was squawking at them for an explanation and assurance that everything was under control.

It took only a few seconds to dock and let the refueling crew have their way with the ship, and Riddik stood up and stretched while the captain talked said refueling crew through a brief survey of the damage. Already, tiny one-person pods were zooming out of the station to collect the debris, which would probably wind up being useful for something.

That was when Riddik followed the psionic sign that led right outside and bent to look over the ledge, down the ladder to the docking chamber, spreading his wings for balance. "Enjoy the ride, kiddo?" he asked Gara, who had taken up a kind of guard, prepped-for-attack position at the bottom of the ladder.

Gara looked up at him, frowning. "You won?" he said more than asked, and he was all but radiating dissatisfaction, or as much of it as he could, given the damn brand. Riddik knew that feeling, and he jumped down, not bothering with the ladder, landing lightly with wings spread.

"We won," he agreed. "And you thought they were coming in, so now you're all wound up with no way to get it out. Am I right?"

The kid actually looked sullen. Amazing. "More will come," he said dourly, putting away his sand with a gesture.

"But not for a while, I bet." Riddik considered him. Then he beckoned and started off towards the empty cargo hold. He'd worry about the grues-- who were sending him little pings of distress and annoyance for all the jostling, which he was ignoring-- and Twenty-Eight's possible motion sickness later. "C'mere. Figure we can do somethin' about that, that doesn't mean fightin' to the death."

Of course, the kid didn't follow. All he said was, "No," in that usual bland voice. Riddik resisted the urge to roll his eyes, and looked over his shoulder at him.

"What will you do next time someone takes your sand away?" he asked pointedly. "You wanna learn something that might help you stay alive and on your feet? Or you wanna keep being helpless when you can't depend on your magic?"

When Gara replied, it was with a kind of tired impatience, toneless but with definite emphasis: "Leave. Me. Alone."

Riddik looked at him again, impassive behind the goggles. He was starting to wonder why he'd even bothered with the kid, if he was going to be this much a brat about everything, including the fact that Riddik was doing his damndest to save his life. What was the point if the kid didn't want to have a life? "Have it your way," he finally said with a shrug, and started off to check on the grues.

"Thank you," came the quiet sigh from behind him, and then paws turning and going the other way.

He was sorely tempted to lock the mess, and see what Gara did then.