(pitch black - animal side 1/?)
May. 13th, 2007 06:08 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
raynedanserwritesPitch Black fic / gen (possibly het?) / Animal Side ~ 2176 words, chapter 1 / ?
Carolyn Frye struggled against the pain of her pounding head to open her eyes. She managed to open them only slightly before slamming them shut again. If at first you don't succeed . . . she tried again, very slowly, and succeeded. She'd been thrown from her cryo locker and had landed against an air duct. That probably accounted for her amazing headache.
She carefully tested each limb, rotated her shoulders and turned her head from side to side. Nothing broken, which was good, but she'd be stiff in the morning. An area on her right thigh was especially tender, and she figured she’d have a glorious bruise there later. She touched a hand to her throbbing head. Blood had crusted in her hair, but at least it wasn't bleeding any more. She'd clean it if she found water.
She got to her feet, steadied herself against an upright column of ductwork and forced her scrambled brain to function. Survivors and injured. She had to locate any survivors and injured. Please don't let me be the only one, she silently pleaded. She looked around at the twisted, broken remains of the Hunter-Gratzner. This was one vessel that would never travel in the shipping lane again.
But where should she begin? What the hell had happened? Where were they? What about the breakaway skiff the ship had been retrofitted with? Until now, no one had needed to test them, but the intention was for the skiff to breakaway if the Hunter-Gratzner entered atmosphere at an uncontrolled rate. A beacon on the skiff would come on automatically at the time of detachment. A wristband tracker permitted the crewmember wearing it to find the skiff. Small, powerful and difficult to lose.
She carefully picked her way over the twisted wreckage, looking around what was left of the room. The bolts that had held the pilot's seat in place had been pulled from the floor, with the seat resting on its side. Frye's gaze wandered over the pilot's body. His dead eyes stared blankly ahead. The cryos for the other crew-members were almost completely destroyed. She grimaced and looked away. She hoped they hadn't had time to suffer.
When she came to the door separating the crew and the passenger compartments, she was relieved to find the opening wide enough for her to squeeze her petite frame through. While the room Frye had just been in had only looked as though it had been jostled about, the passenger cabin had been shorn in half. Most of the cryos were gone. There was no way those passengers had survived. She looked around the room, noting that only one cryo was intact. Frye groaned when she realized the passenger inside was the criminal the Hunter-Gratzner was transporting. She remembered from the passenger list that his name was Riddick. The last three numbers of the bio code on the cryo locker indicated that he was a violent criminal. By rights, she should open his cryo. She didn't want to release him, but if she didn't, she'd be no better than he was. A shiver of fear traveled through her. He was tall, well-muscled and could easily overpower her.
She quickly came to a decision. She knew the air supply in the lockers was limited after a crash. She didn't have an indefinite amount of time so she'd release him after she retrieved the rescue packs that were kept aboard the ships in case of emergency. She opened a door in the floor of the ship, revealing a small storage hold. To her relief, the hold and the packs were undamaged. She pulled out two, one for herself, and one for Riddick. Inside each pack were matches, several survival nutrient kits called Nor'pax , a lantern, a first aid kit, and a couple of woolen blankets. A small pocket knife had skittered across the floor away from several shattered cryo lockers. She picked it up and slid it into her pocket.
She turned and slowly approached the cryo locker. She wiped her hands on the side of her pants. She realized that her breathing was unsteady and forced herself to control it. She could not show weakness. This man must never know she was frightened of him.
When she released the latch on the cryo, the door hissed open. Before Riddick could move, Frye stepped up to him, determination firming her face. “You listen to me and get this straight, ‘cause I'm only gonna say it once. I am the only chance you have of getting off this rock. You are still under arrest. I'm in charge. You do what I say, you'll get out of here alive. If you fuck with me, you won't. Simple as that. Clear?” She took Riddick’s silent smirk as agreement, and indicated the pair of packs on the floor by her feet. “Grab one of these and let's go.” She picked up the lighter of the packs and left the passenger hold, eager to be underway. She didn't look to see if he followed or not.
To distract her from thinking about the man walking behind her, she thought about the few passengers she had known before cryo sleep. Since the H-G had been transporting a prisoner, the merc that had caught him had also been on board. There had also been a prospector team, an entrepreneur named Paris, a young girl and a holy man on his way to New Mecca with his students. The students and the girl had been about the same age. Frye hadn't known them well, had barely had a chance to say hello once they'd boarded.
Such a shame. What a waste of human life. She wondered how many lives had been wasted at Riddick’s hands. A chill shivered its way through her and she forced herself to think of something else.
She stopped and studied her surroundings. Soft moss and needles covered the ground and sponged beneath her feet. The trees here grew tall and thick. The bark was smooth and rubbery and the leaves were oversized. In contrast to the leafy trees were taller trees with huge needles. The trees grew close enough together that much of the sun's light and warmth was blocked out. Night would fall early. Frye had no idea how cold it would get at night or what animals they would encounter.
She turned to look at Riddick and frowned. Neither of them was dressed very well for the environment. Riddick wore only a tank top and her own shirt wasn't much of an improvement. She also noticed that it had grown dark enough for Riddick to remove his goggles comfortably.
She looked around them again, now noticing they stood in a small clearing. At the edge of the clearing, a tall pine-like tree stood. Long, heavy branches bent towards the ground, creating a shelter. Frye smiled as she indicated the tree.
“We'll stay here tonight,” she announced.
Riddick disappeared beneath the branches in silent agreement while Frye tried to calm her nerves before following him. A night in the woods with the infamous Richard B. Riddick. No one would hear her scream. Fucking A, she thought. This had not been on her list of things to do in life. Damn, it hadn't been on her list at all. Would she wake up in the morning? Would he skull fuck her as soon as she closed her eyes? She looked around the woods. It was getting darker. She didn't have many options, not even finding alternate shelter. She sighed and wondered which was worse -- dying at Riddick’s hand or dying in the crash.
Frye ducked under the branches. To her relief, Riddick had pulled his goggles back into place and started a fire already. The smoke slowly dissipated on its own while the thick branches held the heat in. Riddick sat with his back against the tree, his face lit by the fire's warm glow. He looked almost peaceful, serene even, until he lifted his gaze and the fire reflected off the lenses of his goggles. Frye turned her eyes away, ran her hands up and down her arms as though smoothing goose bumps.
“We'll need more wood if we're going to have this going the whole night,” she told him as she looked at the meager amount of wood underneath the tree. She watched as Riddick stood and left the tree's shelter in silence. She couldn't be sure, but she thought she had seen a grimace flick quickly across his face.
While Riddick was gone in search of firewood, she pulled a blanket out of her pack and unrolled it on the ground near the fire. She pulled a second one from the pack, shook it out and set that aside before placing the pack at one end of the first blanket to use as a pillow. She tossed another log on the fire before stretching out on her blanket and pulling the second over her. The fire's hisses and pops were the only sounds. When the branches parted for Riddick to step through, she looked up in surprise. She hadn't heard him approach.
He let the wood he carried fall to the ground, then sat at the base of the tree again, grimacing quickly before catching himself and putting on a stony face again.
Frye quickly looked him over, her eyes coming to rest on a dark stain on his shirt. “You're hurt,” she said. Why hadn't she noticed earlier? Was she that concerned with getting away? Preoccupied? Or had she just been scared shitless and purposely not looking at him?
Riddick glanced down. “It's nothing.”
Frye slid next to him and slowly reached out to pull his shirt out of the way. When his hand snaked out and long fingers closed tightly around her wrist, she inhaled sharply.
“I said it's nothing,” he growled.
She pulled her hand free and carefully lifted the edge of his shirt. The cut was long and deep and looked painful. She gasped. “Riddick, this should have been looked at hours ago,” she pointed out. She reached over to grab the first aid kit from his pack, then flipped it open and took out some ointment. “This may sting a little,” she whispered as she unscrewed the cap and squeezed some onto her finger tips. She reached out with unsteady fingers to gently dab it on. With her head bent low, she smiled a little as his stomach muscles jumped at her light touch. So, she wasn't the only one a little nervous here.
She sat up, brushed loose strands of hair behind her ear and closed the tube of ointment. She put it away and took out a gauze pad and first aid tape. When she'd finished taping the pad over the cut and put the tape away, she sat back and wondered where the sudden bravery had come from. This man was a wanted murderer. He could kill her at any time without breaking a sweat and here she was ... helping him. On the other hand, she had no idea what they would encounter on this planet. Two of them would certainly be better than one. They couldn’t afford for the cut to get infected. Maybe it wasn't bravery on her part, but stupidity. Or greed. She wanted to get out of here alive and she might need him to do it.
“Happy now?” Riddick asked as he pulled his shirt back into place. He leaned back against the tree, effectively ending the conversation.
*****
By morning, the fire had faded to a dim glow and the air in the shelter had cooled considerably. Frye sat up and looked around. Riddick’s seat at the base of the tree was empty.
“Riddick?” she called out. She stood and pulled the blanket around her before parting the branches to look for him outside. The morning was foggy and damp and dew blanketed the ground. “Riddick!” she called again, squinting through the fog. She couldn't see two feet past her nose. For all she knew, Riddick was right there giving her a one-fingered salute. She sighed and let the branches fall back in place. She'd kick around the smoldering ashes and pack up the blankets while she waited for him to get back. If he came back.
She had just finished packing away her blanket when he returned. She didn't like the look on his face.
“Riddick? What's wrong?”
He quickly strapped on his pack. “We need to get moving - now.”
“Riddick, what happened?” She asked again as she slid her arms through the straps of the pack and flipped on the tracker. It quietly blipped to life.
Riddick held up the wrist she wore the tracker on and studied it a moment. “We need to go - now,” he repeated. “We're not alone.”
Carolyn Frye struggled against the pain of her pounding head to open her eyes. She managed to open them only slightly before slamming them shut again. If at first you don't succeed . . . she tried again, very slowly, and succeeded. She'd been thrown from her cryo locker and had landed against an air duct. That probably accounted for her amazing headache.
She carefully tested each limb, rotated her shoulders and turned her head from side to side. Nothing broken, which was good, but she'd be stiff in the morning. An area on her right thigh was especially tender, and she figured she’d have a glorious bruise there later. She touched a hand to her throbbing head. Blood had crusted in her hair, but at least it wasn't bleeding any more. She'd clean it if she found water.
She got to her feet, steadied herself against an upright column of ductwork and forced her scrambled brain to function. Survivors and injured. She had to locate any survivors and injured. Please don't let me be the only one, she silently pleaded. She looked around at the twisted, broken remains of the Hunter-Gratzner. This was one vessel that would never travel in the shipping lane again.
But where should she begin? What the hell had happened? Where were they? What about the breakaway skiff the ship had been retrofitted with? Until now, no one had needed to test them, but the intention was for the skiff to breakaway if the Hunter-Gratzner entered atmosphere at an uncontrolled rate. A beacon on the skiff would come on automatically at the time of detachment. A wristband tracker permitted the crewmember wearing it to find the skiff. Small, powerful and difficult to lose.
She carefully picked her way over the twisted wreckage, looking around what was left of the room. The bolts that had held the pilot's seat in place had been pulled from the floor, with the seat resting on its side. Frye's gaze wandered over the pilot's body. His dead eyes stared blankly ahead. The cryos for the other crew-members were almost completely destroyed. She grimaced and looked away. She hoped they hadn't had time to suffer.
When she came to the door separating the crew and the passenger compartments, she was relieved to find the opening wide enough for her to squeeze her petite frame through. While the room Frye had just been in had only looked as though it had been jostled about, the passenger cabin had been shorn in half. Most of the cryos were gone. There was no way those passengers had survived. She looked around the room, noting that only one cryo was intact. Frye groaned when she realized the passenger inside was the criminal the Hunter-Gratzner was transporting. She remembered from the passenger list that his name was Riddick. The last three numbers of the bio code on the cryo locker indicated that he was a violent criminal. By rights, she should open his cryo. She didn't want to release him, but if she didn't, she'd be no better than he was. A shiver of fear traveled through her. He was tall, well-muscled and could easily overpower her.
She quickly came to a decision. She knew the air supply in the lockers was limited after a crash. She didn't have an indefinite amount of time so she'd release him after she retrieved the rescue packs that were kept aboard the ships in case of emergency. She opened a door in the floor of the ship, revealing a small storage hold. To her relief, the hold and the packs were undamaged. She pulled out two, one for herself, and one for Riddick. Inside each pack were matches, several survival nutrient kits called Nor'pax , a lantern, a first aid kit, and a couple of woolen blankets. A small pocket knife had skittered across the floor away from several shattered cryo lockers. She picked it up and slid it into her pocket.
She turned and slowly approached the cryo locker. She wiped her hands on the side of her pants. She realized that her breathing was unsteady and forced herself to control it. She could not show weakness. This man must never know she was frightened of him.
When she released the latch on the cryo, the door hissed open. Before Riddick could move, Frye stepped up to him, determination firming her face. “You listen to me and get this straight, ‘cause I'm only gonna say it once. I am the only chance you have of getting off this rock. You are still under arrest. I'm in charge. You do what I say, you'll get out of here alive. If you fuck with me, you won't. Simple as that. Clear?” She took Riddick’s silent smirk as agreement, and indicated the pair of packs on the floor by her feet. “Grab one of these and let's go.” She picked up the lighter of the packs and left the passenger hold, eager to be underway. She didn't look to see if he followed or not.
To distract her from thinking about the man walking behind her, she thought about the few passengers she had known before cryo sleep. Since the H-G had been transporting a prisoner, the merc that had caught him had also been on board. There had also been a prospector team, an entrepreneur named Paris, a young girl and a holy man on his way to New Mecca with his students. The students and the girl had been about the same age. Frye hadn't known them well, had barely had a chance to say hello once they'd boarded.
Such a shame. What a waste of human life. She wondered how many lives had been wasted at Riddick’s hands. A chill shivered its way through her and she forced herself to think of something else.
She stopped and studied her surroundings. Soft moss and needles covered the ground and sponged beneath her feet. The trees here grew tall and thick. The bark was smooth and rubbery and the leaves were oversized. In contrast to the leafy trees were taller trees with huge needles. The trees grew close enough together that much of the sun's light and warmth was blocked out. Night would fall early. Frye had no idea how cold it would get at night or what animals they would encounter.
She turned to look at Riddick and frowned. Neither of them was dressed very well for the environment. Riddick wore only a tank top and her own shirt wasn't much of an improvement. She also noticed that it had grown dark enough for Riddick to remove his goggles comfortably.
She looked around them again, now noticing they stood in a small clearing. At the edge of the clearing, a tall pine-like tree stood. Long, heavy branches bent towards the ground, creating a shelter. Frye smiled as she indicated the tree.
“We'll stay here tonight,” she announced.
Riddick disappeared beneath the branches in silent agreement while Frye tried to calm her nerves before following him. A night in the woods with the infamous Richard B. Riddick. No one would hear her scream. Fucking A, she thought. This had not been on her list of things to do in life. Damn, it hadn't been on her list at all. Would she wake up in the morning? Would he skull fuck her as soon as she closed her eyes? She looked around the woods. It was getting darker. She didn't have many options, not even finding alternate shelter. She sighed and wondered which was worse -- dying at Riddick’s hand or dying in the crash.
Frye ducked under the branches. To her relief, Riddick had pulled his goggles back into place and started a fire already. The smoke slowly dissipated on its own while the thick branches held the heat in. Riddick sat with his back against the tree, his face lit by the fire's warm glow. He looked almost peaceful, serene even, until he lifted his gaze and the fire reflected off the lenses of his goggles. Frye turned her eyes away, ran her hands up and down her arms as though smoothing goose bumps.
“We'll need more wood if we're going to have this going the whole night,” she told him as she looked at the meager amount of wood underneath the tree. She watched as Riddick stood and left the tree's shelter in silence. She couldn't be sure, but she thought she had seen a grimace flick quickly across his face.
While Riddick was gone in search of firewood, she pulled a blanket out of her pack and unrolled it on the ground near the fire. She pulled a second one from the pack, shook it out and set that aside before placing the pack at one end of the first blanket to use as a pillow. She tossed another log on the fire before stretching out on her blanket and pulling the second over her. The fire's hisses and pops were the only sounds. When the branches parted for Riddick to step through, she looked up in surprise. She hadn't heard him approach.
He let the wood he carried fall to the ground, then sat at the base of the tree again, grimacing quickly before catching himself and putting on a stony face again.
Frye quickly looked him over, her eyes coming to rest on a dark stain on his shirt. “You're hurt,” she said. Why hadn't she noticed earlier? Was she that concerned with getting away? Preoccupied? Or had she just been scared shitless and purposely not looking at him?
Riddick glanced down. “It's nothing.”
Frye slid next to him and slowly reached out to pull his shirt out of the way. When his hand snaked out and long fingers closed tightly around her wrist, she inhaled sharply.
“I said it's nothing,” he growled.
She pulled her hand free and carefully lifted the edge of his shirt. The cut was long and deep and looked painful. She gasped. “Riddick, this should have been looked at hours ago,” she pointed out. She reached over to grab the first aid kit from his pack, then flipped it open and took out some ointment. “This may sting a little,” she whispered as she unscrewed the cap and squeezed some onto her finger tips. She reached out with unsteady fingers to gently dab it on. With her head bent low, she smiled a little as his stomach muscles jumped at her light touch. So, she wasn't the only one a little nervous here.
She sat up, brushed loose strands of hair behind her ear and closed the tube of ointment. She put it away and took out a gauze pad and first aid tape. When she'd finished taping the pad over the cut and put the tape away, she sat back and wondered where the sudden bravery had come from. This man was a wanted murderer. He could kill her at any time without breaking a sweat and here she was ... helping him. On the other hand, she had no idea what they would encounter on this planet. Two of them would certainly be better than one. They couldn’t afford for the cut to get infected. Maybe it wasn't bravery on her part, but stupidity. Or greed. She wanted to get out of here alive and she might need him to do it.
“Happy now?” Riddick asked as he pulled his shirt back into place. He leaned back against the tree, effectively ending the conversation.
*****
By morning, the fire had faded to a dim glow and the air in the shelter had cooled considerably. Frye sat up and looked around. Riddick’s seat at the base of the tree was empty.
“Riddick?” she called out. She stood and pulled the blanket around her before parting the branches to look for him outside. The morning was foggy and damp and dew blanketed the ground. “Riddick!” she called again, squinting through the fog. She couldn't see two feet past her nose. For all she knew, Riddick was right there giving her a one-fingered salute. She sighed and let the branches fall back in place. She'd kick around the smoldering ashes and pack up the blankets while she waited for him to get back. If he came back.
She had just finished packing away her blanket when he returned. She didn't like the look on his face.
“Riddick? What's wrong?”
He quickly strapped on his pack. “We need to get moving - now.”
“Riddick, what happened?” She asked again as she slid her arms through the straps of the pack and flipped on the tracker. It quietly blipped to life.
Riddick held up the wrist she wore the tracker on and studied it a moment. “We need to go - now,” he repeated. “We're not alone.”
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Date: 2007-05-13 10:47 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2007-05-13 11:03 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2007-05-14 10:43 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2007-05-14 10:48 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2007-05-14 05:27 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2007-05-14 10:45 pm (UTC)And thanks hon!