Break

River had turned back to the Doctor after her conversation with her brother. She had not wanted to leave his side even though it was more than past time to move on. The rest had helped Ali, at least, if not Jack. But the Time Lord frowned and fiddled with his sonic screwdriver a bit more and announced, “We’re stopping here for a few hours. Everyone settle down and try to get some rest.” The adults all looked at him, very surprised. Richard moved back with Jack to the space blanket and sheet that had reappeared. Imam made sure that Ali and Suleiman both were next to Jack, before placing himself as a further protection. Since Jack refused to let go of the ex-ranger Riddick was on his other side. The fellow kept a blank face, aside from the slight pleading glance he shot at the Doctor. She knew what the bronze complexioned man needed, of course. After a few moments of mental prodding the alien Lei-yu gave in and guided them both that direction. The difficulty was that more contact soothed them immediately but made the eventual connection that much harder to fight. His spike of fear was enough to make River twist to act as a barrier between the two, without much thought as to how it impacted her role in all of it. She found herself being bodily moved to the other side, still tucked into his form, but with her brother near her back instead of Richard.

She made a token mental protest, considering how she was trying to help him, and got back from him the definite sense that he knew what he was doing, what the risks were, and that he’d face the price when the time came. She needed to focus on herself and worry less about his physical needs. If only it were that easy. The increased clove spiciness in his sweet scent filled her nose and she buried her face into the leather of his jacket to hide her flush from it. Part of her was hot again, slick, sensitive and tingling. Fearful he’d push her away, she curled her hands into his tee around his middle and felt Richard scoot closer against her fingers even though they were separated by thick leather. He never reached his mind toward hers, and yet she felt his crystalline barriers that guarded it ease open along a million little fractures as he waited for her mental flow. She nuzzled into the Doctor’s cool body and allowed her mind to wash gently into Richard’s. She knew Lei-yu was aware of this now, more so than before because she followed his link to Amadak through the storm clouds in his mind in order to reach the other. River felt those intense blue eyes looking at her then over at Rich, as the pieces fell into place. With a slight unheard vibration the Doctor shifted her off the cave floor and onto his lap to allow Simon to move in a bit closer. She sighed and relaxed.

Richard allowed Jack to curl up and use him as a pillow, much as River was the Doctor. He had no intention of sleeping. Someone here was guilty, He just wondered who. On the other side of Simon, Carolyn and Johns were both watching the tunnel. Paris was naturally as far from the guns as he could get while staying in the light. It was rather clear that he felt put out by his exclusion, but Dr Tam knew who he trusted, and the fact that Jack wanted the ex-ranger with him sealed his commitment toward making sure that the man went free. The silver-eyed con turned his attention to the feeling of River flowing over his mind, not quite a hard enough touch to even call a whisper. There were no thoughts with it, no feelings, just a sense of her being there, of it being comfortable for her to be there, as he’d become accustomed to over the course of their weeks together.

This was the first time he’d gotten close to her while she was in contact with the Doctor however, and her scent mingled with the pheromone laden one that surrounded the alien and Richard found himself wanting to copy her position, to crawl in under the coat and push his face and body flush with the other man, holding him with the same carefree manner that she was. He started to shift a little to ease off the contact, the feel of chill through the Doctor’s pants where their legs touched making his skin burn from the lack of contact as he moved away. But he didn’t get far before cool strong fingers closed around his wrist and tugged him gently back. He looked at the Doctor’s face, noticing the expression was blank and his eyes closed. The slight tug repeated and Rich rolled a bit, tilting himself toward the leather, just slightly. He crossed his ankles and allowed his heel to rest on the Doctor’s calf while returning his other leg to full contact. Fine, the Doctor wanted him to touch, so he’d touch. Tucked into his side, Jack shivered and curled up more before he drifted into a restful sleep. Richard waited a while then shifted again to slide his palm under the hand on his wrist and curled his fingers around it, “Feel like I should be standing guard.”

“Um? Aren’t you?” The Doctor’s intense gaze focused on him, “Jack needs to know you are there, Amadak.”

The ex-ranger was seized by the sudden urge to kiss the fellow next to him and pushed it down violently. Bad enough he was holding his hand under the cover of his coat. Weeks they’d been dancing around each other, avoiding this attraction and suddenly Richard was having trouble remembering why he’d fought it. Of course had Jack not been sleeping against him, he would have jerked away from the Doctor at least three times, and he certainly wouldn’t be tempted to lean into him, climb into his lap like River was, or kiss him senseless. But then, who was he trying to fool? He’d been using the man’s towel, sweater, utensils, practically anything the Doctor had touched to try to deal with his feelings. As long as they had kept on the move he’d been fine with a hand on the Doctor’s elbow. But now… It almost wasn’t enough to hold his hand. With Johns watching them almost as much as he was watching the shadows Riddick didn’t dare even hint at what he wanted.

The problem, the Time Lord thought, was that it was taking entirely too long to reach the safety of the TARDIS. He was tired of fighting his need. He was tired of being scared. He was – ready. Which meant, of course, that his body was now fully able and wanting to commit to creation of the next generation. It really mattered little to his current hormonal soup that was his blood if the urge made him sire or carry that ‘next’ into existence. Either way the need for the empty space in his mind would start to fill again and he’d be able to start healing from the horrible loss of his people.

The deepest, most irrational impulses pointed out that he had a perfectly willing female that was totally compatible with him right there. He shoved that away. River was not healed enough to make any sort of sane choice along those lines, and was not going to fall into thinking that she was. Not for a very long time. And even then, there was no guarantee that she’d stay with him. Even if he taught her everything he knew and showered her with love and affection she might decide to head off on her own or fall in love with another. No. Not ever.

She was related to him, although by nearly a thirteen generation gap. Rather a touchy subject anyhow. He figured that he should never mention his thoughts on the matter, unless she brought them up with a ton of genetic evidence to prove that it was perfectly safe for them ignore the distant family ties. He loved her, yes. Just as much as he loved Simon. They were family. He carefully slotted River into that spot marked ‘daughter’ and firmly placed her off limits to his hormonal urges. It was OK for her to have flights of fancy concerning him. It was not OK for him to even want to think of her in that way, willing or not. He then mentally moved Simon into that area of his connections too, upgrading him from distant grandson to ‘son’. Off limits, no matter how much loss of control he might suffer. His mind then drifted to other ways he could get an easement of the pressure building up in his body.

There was Verity… He’d joined with his ship before to produce offspring. They could do again, and she’d be a willing partner to it, as long as he could keep her supplied with the proper types of energy to keep her healthy. She might even want to on her own without his putting any coercion on her. Part of him really liked the thought of it. It would help them both that way, and TARDIS budding was such a slow process that likely if they started right away it would be centuries before it bore fruit. They did have time. The main problem would be energy. With the Eye of Harmony being destroyed the power that Verity would need for any major growth much less budding or basic healing from the effects of the War would be his responsibility.

And then he considered that… Could it be that her refusal to move was more her conserving power than being difficult? She was having to ration what energy she had, after all. He shouldn’t be mad at her for that. If anything he should feel ashamed for being such a shit about her silence and distance. Verity was, after all, just as damaged from the blast as he’d been only she’d not had the benefit of a regeneration to heal her. He was sure his excess power had repaired some of her injuries, but still it took time for her fix things on her own. He really should have insisted that they spend time to deal with the loss instead of rushing into new situations. A little late for that now though.

And there was the giant elephant he was trying to ignore… He could give into the Bond as the bottom partner. He shivered at that thought. Last time he’d indulged in such behavior had been with Jamie. Suddenly he was aware of not knowing if the Scottish piper was alive or dead, where he’d been left, or who he’d been left with. There was the distinct sensation of overlapping pasts. One where they’d been torn apart, he and his Jamie, contrasting with another where he’d successfully hidden the young man and their attachment. In one past he’d tried to deny everything, driven by fear, gambled and lost horribly. In another he’d opened up to his Verity and allowed her to help him although he couldn’t see much more than that.

Neither of his pasts however voided his bond with Amadak. He could only assume that if Jamie was alive that the lad knew about the Bond formed and had given tact approval of it. At least he hoped so. He wouldn’t last long enough to make it to where ever he’d hidden Jamie away to take care of his problem. Not to mention that Richard deserved far better from him, even if his current desire was nothing more than a chemical reaction. Although he knew… with the bond in place that it couldn’t be so simple. He’d wanted Amadak when they formed their connection or it wouldn’t have worked. He wanted him now, and would keep wanting him. He forced himself to stop thinking about it because he wasn’t going to get that itch scratched here. No. He’d have to wait until they were well away from this world for that.

0o0o0o0o0o0o0

Jack felt good, physically. He woke up feeling more energized than he had in a while, safe and warm. It helped that Riddick had stayed with him. It helped that he didn’t ache like he had before Dr. Tam’s interference. They all got up after a quick meal and using some porta-potty thing that Simon kept in his medical bag benefits of the Doctor’s making it larger on the inside like Jack’s pack was. Once those needs were dealt with and the device sealed away and stored they all mentally prepared to head again into danger, assuming their previous positions.

Jack felt fine, until he saw his tormentor. Then the slow trickle of moisture started up again, this time without the sobs. He tried to hid them from the adults, and they all made the decision to keep moving because if they could reach the Doctor’s ship sooner rather than later it would be a good thing. As they set off following the pull of the TARDIS key Jack became more and more aware that he was focusing less and less on what was around him. It was like blurry tunnel vision, almost. He couldn’t see shit, because his eyes were unable to stop weeping tears. At least the majority of the pain in his body was gone. That was a good trade, right? Not too sure about the needing to cling to someone bit, but at least his body was doing fine. And thankfully Dr. Tam was behind him and not someone else.

He’d not said a thing for over sixty ticks. He’d barely spoken since he’d woken up, and then only to say thanks when one of the adults he trusted offered him something. But then, neither had Ali, who was walking next to him, leading him, acting as his eyes. He was so glad that the Arabic boy had not turned away from him thinking he was soiled because of what he allowed to happen. That meant so much to him. More than anything, really. Now he needed to think about his future and deal with things if he was to be stuck here out of his own time.

He knew where he belonged, but the chances of getting back there were slim to none if his athair’s words were to be believed about his da being dead. He trembled from that thought. It was too horrible to be true. His da had to be alive, even if they couldn’t feel him anymore. Everything he’d suffered because of his da’s actions would be pointless if his missing parent was truly dead. But his athair had been right about the charred black ragged hole that formed in their mind. That was real, and no matter how much Jack tried to ignore it. He realized that he’d have to live the rest of his life with that wound unless it proved that his da was alive and showed up to heal it.

The green-eyed boy knew he’d upset people by his refusal to say who was the other person involved. At the time Jack considered the entire episode his fault. Still did really. He’d walked into the situation, made it worse with his big mouth and snotty words and it had been well within the other man’s rights to set him on the straight and narrow. Or so Jack believed. He was lucky actually that it hadn’t been worse. Back ‘home’, the place he’d had to think of as home to cope with the many jarring changes from what he thought he remembered his life being like before, where the cyborgs had taken him after he’d been swept away from that other life that seemed all to unreal now, it would have been. They’d been keen on hurting him and he was sure that they had done much worse to him than he could actually recall. Like he’d blanked it out. Forced himself to forget as the marks faded to the point that they couldn’t been seen. Because of that he kept expecting the current events and the pain he’d suffered to escalate. That it hadn’t had been kinda nice. At least the injuries hadn’t gotten worse.

He wasn’t even sure how old he was or how much time had passed. He knew he wasn’t ten. He knew he was older. He also knew that he would not be fully grown up for a long while yet, and his da had done a lot in the past to keep it seem he was aging the correct rate to appear human. How he missed the feel of his parents connections to him. He was not even sure if is athair was alive anymore. The Cyborgs had told him that they killed him. Remembering that he felt the tears start to moisten his aching eyes again. His heart hurt, so bad. Jack could only hope that he’d not lost both his parents.

He forced himself to not dwell on the what if and to just exist in the moment. He needed to work on surviving. Eyesight blurry even after the tears stopped, Jack trusted Ali to guide him and paid little attention to where they were going or how far they’d gone. And his mind was sluggish, taking its own sweet time to move from one thought to another. As long as he didn’t look away from Imam’s fuzzy back or think about things too much he was okay to walk, at least. Not that his mind could leave it alone. He wasn’t sure how he felt about what he’d been through, but he knew the other adults were angry about it for him. They wanted to know who had done it. Well, they could just ask each other if they were so blind as to not have seen …

Now, it just seemed pointless to call someone on something he earned, deserved, and maybe even wanted. Oh sure, he’d run away from the Cyborgs because of similar, but damn… That annoying tickle was back. After a while there was little Jack wouldn’t do to make the feeling go away. He’d rather feel the pain. It would be even better to not feel anything in that region of his body until he was older, but he’d not been given the chance in that regard.

He wished he could tell someone, but the adults wouldn’t understand. They would either take advantage of him or look at him in horror and anger. And telling Ali or his brother was out of the question. They would look at him like he was scum. No way he’d survive that experience. Losing his own dignity was one thing, losing his friends was another. He wouldn’t even dream of dragging Ali into this. And Dr. Tam’s fears had nearly done it for him. If he had touched Ali, Jack would rip the man’s offending parts off. And the driving force wouldn’t just be anger.

Maybe the things he’d read in Ali’s holy book were the way to salvation, maybe it could get better. Jack sure hoped so. Shazza and Zeke had offered him a new life, a way to become something more, but they were both dead now. If he followed his current path, the one with Ali, he’d have to try to become normal. Live a normal life, act like other boys, never mention what he’d lived with and craved. Or he could try to strike out on his own, following Riddick’s path. Go for the eyeshine; use what he was to get what he wanted. But then, that would hurt Ali so — maybe not.

And then there was the distant hope that his Athair and his Da were alive still someplace and he’d find them again. If only he could remember what they looked like. His head hurt, with a pounding thudding driving pain. He knew that was caused by trying to see through the blackness in his mind. He massaged his forehead for a moment as he thought about what he was going to do if he did get off this planet.

He liked Ali and Suleiman. He’d liked Hassan. They were good people, not as prissy as the Imam was, but still. He liked Fry, and the Doctor, and the Tam siblings, too. Hell, he worshiped the ground Riddick walked on. While he wasn’t sure that the ex-ranger fully accepted his hero worship, at least the large muscular man was not pushing him away. And the Doctor kept staring at him as though there was some mystery there. Why was he inclined to like the pale fellow? Gosh wouldn’t it be great if this Doctor bloke was his da? Oh… but then if his athair was dead then his da would be really hurting… There were times when it looked like the Doctor was hurting too. He knew there were issues between the adults, but for the most part they had tried to protect him. Even him. Funny that, if nothing had happened before they skipped out of the hanger then this walk might have been much safer.

Jack could smell moisture in the air faintly, like they had reached the upper caverns. It was much colder here then it had been when they were deeper down. Jack shivered and had to force himself to not huddle next to the other boy’s side. He felt Ali shiver too, “Cold now.” He nodded and let out a puff of air that misted up in front of his face. Very cold.

What they soon discovered was that the rain was freezing on contact, forming odd pillars of ice where the spires had been. He wondered what the natives did now, if the forming ice would drive them back underground. Jack sure hoped not. He had enough to deal with at the moment. They’d been walking for such a long time; he was so sleepy and cold. Then they hit a dead end.

0o0o0o0o0o0o0

The TARDIS was really very close. In universal terms it hadn’t been that far away in any case. If it weren’t for the freezing rain, they’d just continue this trek above ground. Oh, but he could practically see the blue box through the sheet of ice. The problem was, there were bioraptors taking shelter inside the sinkhole from the onslaught nature was throwing at them. And there was a fifty-foot drop in front of them on the other side of that ice. He might make that jump. But could he make the dash beyond with no light?

The Time Lord reached out to his ship and tried again to call her to him. The rejection made him growl softly. She wanted him to go around. He warned her that his current physical state was boarding on mindless lust and the delay was only making it worse. Verity mentally caressed him and sucked away some of his tension, leaving him shivering as he stared at her through the ice. Fate’s line wasn’t fully played out yet. They would have to backtrack and circle the sinkhole looking for a safer way to reach the TARDIS.

He looked back at the children, who were both ready to drop again where they stood. They needed a longer rest period, more than just a couple of hours. The boys needed at least five to really sleep. He indicated to Imam his intention that they stop here for a while. Between his use of the sonic screwdriver and Imam’s directing of the rain, using the spears to direct the freezing rain into the location where he wanted it, they managed to seal off a section of the chamber and heat up some rocks to provide warmth inside it. Then he insisted that they rest. The group had reached the basic location faster than they had hoped to. Now he needed time to consider what to do. The estimate had included longer rest periods then they had felt safe enough to take. The wall of ice would by them some time if the natives caught up to them.

The Doctor felt the animal energy of Richard hovering behind him, and closed his eyes. Twin pasts shifted and flowed against his awareness. One in which he’d been so torn up inside that he’d rejected every attempt Leela had made in getting him to accept her. One in which he’d never made her his Tyro, one in which her intelligence had been ignored and his attitude had eventually driven her away into the arms of another. Not that he’d been unaware of the potential in her, no. He’d known and seen that she could be powerful and wise given time. He’d watched her step in and take her husband’s place to protect the Lady President even though her sight had failed. Leela had never faltered. And he’d loved her, but not the way she loved Andred.

The other flowed against it as a contrast. In it he’d known his secrets were safe, his family secured away – somewhere where his people would not find them – and he’d embraced the savage woman and shown her how smart and how brave and how powerful she could be by making her his Tyro. He’d not taken her as a lover, not ever had either of them wanted it. In fact she’d told him, much like a seer would, that she’d leave him someday for another and that her son would fit into the place in his heart that was so empty. When it had happened he’d encouraged it, blessed it even, ordered the union protected, as irregular as it was for his people to even experience such a thing, and helped her intended forge the bond with her that they’d need for children to be possible. And it just so happened that as Lord President that his word was law and could not be undone.

He rather preferred the second one. What did he need to do to make his past, shifting as it was, conform to what he wanted?

It was not that the large events changed, no. But it was that the small ones had a more pleasant feel, as though he’d kept his friends and they made the choices to do hard things that had to be done without his manipulations. Their emotional ties to him were good ones instead of bad ones. With as much pain as he was in right now he needed the memories to be good ones. Suddenly he needed a past that he didn’t feel driven to run from.

Richard hovered, making him tingle across his entire back. The Doctor smiled as he contrasted the feeling he got from the bronze skinned man and his mother. Leela never got to him like this. Her feel was entirely one of protectiveness. Richard’s was a feel of pure animal need. He could only blame the bond between them for so much. He was gathering that there was something about the ex-ranger, something he could feel right on the edge of his awareness, that was so like Leela yet different. The bronze skinned man sparked something in him that he’d only felt with one other. That had been a very long time ago, back in his second incarnation. Jamie. James McCrimmon. He hoped to Time herself that he’d gotten permission to form this bond from his primary triad. He could only wait to see if the memory surfaced.

The emotion solidified into pained heat that was nearly solid nestled against his right heart. The strong sensation of Jamie being taken away from him, them standing there looking into each other’s eyes holding hands in a firm grip while the mental flow of feelings and thoughts flooded from one to the other, knowing they’d never see each other again, hurt. By Rassilon, it hurt so much. He wasn’t even sure if it had happened and yet the feeling brought tears to his eyes and took his breath away. Morbidly, he poked at the sensation like a child finding a starfish for the first time. Of all the memories – he had to have this one drifting through his brain right now.

But there was no denying it. Beyond the emotional grief of the loss that he would never get over was the renewed filaments of his soul trying to find someone to mend that awful wound. Richard, Amadak, was destined to travel with him, just as Jamie had been. Why was the universe trying to offer him these precious things? He’d just crush them, like everything else. But there it was, that spark of – well, the only word he had for it meant about a book’s worth of words and had no real translation. Damn. By rights it should shatter as soon as his touch became more certain. He drew back the tendrils of his mind away from the shimmering silver bundle of energy that hovered between he and the ex-ranger. Odd that. The beginnings of an additional deeper connection that was forming almost as if to spite him.

It was not helping him get to the TARDIS, this distraction.

“He is your earth,” said the little water who rarely left him. River. He had become so used to her wild flow, like rapids, that he barely noticed that they were not his own. He pondered those words without replying. It doesn’t bother the dark haired girl. She knew he understood. It vexed him to no end. He didn’t think he needed the extra grounding. But it’s too late to deny the spark. The lead of energy arcing between them, the ex-ranger and Time Lord. And River knew something else too, she could become part of him, the storm, let him absorb her and heal her and she’d be reborn, forever connected and feeding it. She could be his water. By the Black, how she wanted that. To be whole, healed, and still possess this wondrous connection.

But could she force Simon into it? Would her air understand? Could he give himself to becoming something more than a boy, more than human? She glanced over to her brother who was with the children, between them with the sheet and space blanket over them in an effort to keep the boys warm so that they could rest. The divide between her and Simon was larger now, strained. She didn’t want it to be, but he was not ready yet to see the new possibilities. Her arm curled over the Doctor’s knee where they were sitting. She let the ache of loneliness that was not her own wash over her. Then her eyes found Richard’s. Those silver orbs dance with a multitude of emotions, many of them dark. He was jealous of her easy physical contact with someone he wanted badly. And for the first time she saw the shimmering connections of amber-green uniting them in shared destiny. She glanced away, curling tighter against the cool body next to hers, blushing because such a thing was intimate beyond anything else and so very fragile that the slightest wrong move could shatter it.

Riddick wondered what the hell that look was about. Sometimes River saw things. He knew this; he’d caught her saying stuff in riddles that proved truthful later. Now she picked up something about him. He narrowed his eyes and watched the faint rosy rise of heat on her skin as she tried to hide from him. Now he was really curious. What could she have seen that would embarrass her? He looked from the pink tinged back of her head to the deep blue of the cool fingers that came up to rest on it. There was a rise of ire that shouldn’t be there. And feeling it, knowing why, makes it rise higher. He was going to end up back in Slam and he didn’t need this emotional crap. ‘Why now? And why him?’ He suddenly realized that his eyes were locked with the deep, ancient ones of the Doctor. The questions he had been thinking were reflected back at him. Twitches moved across his shoulders.

“Spendin’ an awful lota time staring at the bloke,” Johns said sounding calculating. “What’s up Trash-Baby?”

“Thinking about what a killer like him would do if he caught a child molester, Billy,” it wasn’t the truth, actually a spur-of-the-moment lie, but Johns didn’t know that. It seemed to hit a mark, but not just on the merc. He focused a bit of his attention on the art dealer.

“What, Mister-no-weapons-thank-you? A killer? Are you trying to jerk me off?”

“No.” ‘Actually I’m deadly serious.’ “Is it working for you?” The marshal gave him an incredulous expression. “Look at him, Johns. Really try to see what is in front of you. He’s attacked the natives with as much stone-cold efficiency as you have.” The Doctor looked away, seemingly involved in a conversation, with perhaps River or Simon, on a level beyond speech. “Maybe ‘killer’ ain’t the right word.” Riddick finally focused on the redhead. “He’s a – destroyer. And if he finds out who hurt Jack he’ll destroy them totally.”

William looked at the con, blue eyes locked on silver, “You think I’m that stupid?”

“I pray you haven’t been, Billy. He might show mercy if the guilty party confesses before he catches them. But he don’t give second chances.”

The merc closed his eyes. “I don’t remember doing anything. But – the morphine – I don’t know.” The man was trembling, terrified. It was not Riddick that Johns was scared of. It was his own self, what he might have done, and being caught out having done it but not remembering. He’d been thinking ‘bout the doc’s offer to clean him out and try to actually fix the damage to his back. He’d been a bastard, true. He was a greedy man. But he could let Richard go, for the chance to be clean again. It was something he wanted more than money. But if he were the one to have hurt the kid, all bets would be off.

But Riddick was listening to Johns’ body language. Actually, the man was ruthless, he’d shot kids to flush out a target, but he’d never raped or abused them. The sadistic part of the con wanted to watch the merc twist in the wind for a bit, but what’s changing in the man was so new and so fragile that it might shatter. “It wasn’t you.”

Johns heard the words but couldn’t quite believe them, “What?”

“It was not you, Johns. Have you started going deaf?” The redhead’s look was comical, but Rich didn’t laugh, “All the signs are there, pointing straight to the person responsible. Have been from the start. They don’t point to you.”

“Then – who?”

Riddick’s gaze darted over to the person next in line to die, “Him.”

The merc’s eyes followed the gaze and he narrowed them as he considered, “Proof?”

“Think about how Jack’s been acting and what has changed.”

Johns thought about it. Back at the settlement, before they got trapped into the Hanger, Jack had been a thorn in his side, a smart-ass pest that he wanted to turn over his knee. But once the sandstorm started the kid had become quiet. He’d gone from challenging everyone over everything to accepting what he was told. And there had been little – touches – at mealtimes, before settling in to sleep, while playing with Ali. Johns hadn’t thought about it while he watched over the events transpiring around him at the time. “Think the Doctor will want to use my shotgun?”

That coaxed a thin, evil, smile from the con that chilled Johns to the core. “Rather think he’s a gadget man, myself. Wonder how many things one can burst with that sonic device of his.”

The merc shivered. Personally, he’d rather not think about that. “I’m gonna take Dr. Tam up on his offer, Richard. Get off the morphine, get the metal out of my spine, let you go. I should have listened to Hoxie and walked away.”

“Right,” Riddick said stressing the ‘ii’ in the middle and sounding disbelieving. But Johns was telling the truth. Working alongside Fry to protect the others, knowing that they were fighting for their lives and that it was his fault, changed him. Besides he was getting his life back. He let go of Riddick, said he died and he’d still have a perfect record. He could go back to doing what he loved to do knowing that they’d stay put once he got them there. Slowly it dawned on Rich that the man was being honest and open for a change, “Wait – you mean it?”

“Yeah.” He glanced over at Dr. Tam, “The Doc gave me a hit of something, some anti-not-morphine new drug when we stopped, asked me if I wanted my stuff or his. I can’t go on. Fry was right; I’ve been livin’ for the hype, not because I’m alive. So I took his. My mind is a lot clearer, first time it’s been in a long while. And I realized, you warned me about Hoxie before we even got there. Not because you wanted a chance to run, but because you knew I was being stupid.” He scruffed his shoe into the dirt. “You saved my fuckin’ worthless life when we ran into Revas. You’re still savin’ it. And I was so blind from the dope that I truly thought – no, I wanted to hurt you. Nothing else. Didn’t matter if you were in Slam or not, just as long as I could cause you pain.” Riddick didn’t say anything. William took a deep breath, “Go with the Doctor, where-ever he disappears off to, and I won’t bother you no more, Richard.” Actually Johns was pretty sure that with this situation being his fault that the devil was about to collect his due. As much as he wanted to live, if he could save someone else that deserved it, like Simon Tam, he would no matter what the cost.

Richard looked away, only to catch Fry’s smile. Truth was, the experience had changed him too. He could feel the odd tug that kept him gravitating towards the Doctor like he was on some invisible lead. He knew that these people, for the first time in a long time, made him care. Fry treated him like he was something precious, rare. Simon acted like he was normal. Imam saw he was a person, not an animal to be locked away. Jack needed him. And the Doctor… well that was up in the air still. Drawn like a moth to a flame, two worlds caught in mutual orbit. He didn’t know why, or how, but these people changed him. And he was still changing. “Gotta live through this first, then we’ll see.”

Sanguine

They were all on high alert. How could they not be? Simon Tam switched his hand lamp for his medical scanner, set to detect the local life-signs at maximum range. Or a bit beyond, thanks to the Doctor’s fiddling. Something was allowing the bioraptors to track them. It was not their echolocation. The constant clicking and popping going on around them was even sweeps like the predators couldn’t see the group but still knew that they were there. And something was driving the hammerheads to attack like sharks on a blood trail. But what?

That was the thing. It was a blood trail. Something was acting to attract the hammerheads. And down here was where the bull males were, the tough mean ones that didn’t stop for a bit of light. Rich’s idea that it was a blood scent was a good one, but no injuries had been sustained and left untreated. Simon had made doubly sure of that. Both of the females in the party that might be menstruating were not. Was it Mr. Olgivie’s expensive cologne? Was it the food rations? Had they overlooked something? “Incoming, from the left!” Simon called.

Imam, Suleiman, and the Doctor faced that way, pushing Ali more towards Jack. Something about the boys was acting to make them a target, even with all the light on them and the fact that they were in the most protected spot. The entire group concentrated on protecting the children, even Johns. All but Paris, who as typical tried to keep himself behind the boys, using them as a shield. River lifted her spear into the air to guard their heads, and Suleiman mimicked her. As the native predators came into sight, Fry picked off the lead with a well-placed shot. Johns was right with her, shoulder to shoulder, aiming at the next threat and blowing it into blue mist from the range of the blast. The Time Lord’s sonic screwdriver let off another jolt of sound and the creatures stopped their charge and squealed in pain. Without hesitation the Time Lord ordered, “Go!” He gestured to the right, moving with them in such a way as to block the flank but not stress the fiber optic lead.

They all swerved to the right, falling into formation like a well oiled unit. It was amazing that the could work together in such a fashion, but none of them bothered to question it as they dodged into a passage and followed a weaving path between short tunnels or long narrow pillars, ranks tightened to protect the children in the center of the group. It was becoming clear to all of them that something about Jack and Ali was driving the hammerheads to brave the light again and again ignoring the intense pain and damage the illumination caused. They were all wonderingwhat it was. Was it the size of the children? Or was it because they were weaker then the adults? Was it the difference in their scent, the fact that they had not reach maturity yet? Or was it the art dealer that huddled behind the boys that the predators were after?

The survivors made a left and then centered out in their path toward the Doctor’s ship. It seemed like they might have shaken their determined followers for the moment. “What did you do?” Riddick asked the Doctor as they jogged, faster than a walk but not so fast that the kids couldn’t keep up. Now normally he’d ignore the strange twinges about someone’s scent when in danger like this, but he was really very glad that the Doctor was next to him. He was not sure what he’d have done if the man wasn’t.

“Shattered the membranes in their olfactory glands,” the pale fellow said, acting as though the option was just one of many. Rich didn’t know much about big words though, or at least he didn’t think he did. The frown as he puzzled out the word ‘olfactory’ was enough to make the Doctor add, “Took away their sense of smell.”

Richard forced his mind away from the spicy sweet leather tinged odor and thought about the behavior he’d observed. “Goin’ after the kids. Heading right for the center of the group every damn time.”

The pale man next to Rich nodded. He noticed that too, and for the most part the predators were targeting Jack. He sent the suggestion to Simon that perhaps the boy needed a medical scan when they stop next. The young surgeon mentally replied that he would do so. Whatever had happened to make Jack the target was worth solving. If the boy was injured why hadn’t he spoken up sooner?

Abu and Paris were listening intently. Riddick knew the holy man had reason to listen, as Ali and Jack were best friends now, and the young orphaned boy had rather chosen the Imam as a secondary protector. But the art dealer’s attention bothered him. What did the man hope to overhear? Why was he acting so interested now, when he’d more or less threatened Jack time and time again for the boy being too loud or mis-mannered? Was it as simple as the fact that they were all making this run together that made the fellow act like he cared? Or was there something else going on? Imam asked, “But why? We need to figure out why.”

The con knew who he suspected of hurting the kid, based on what he’d witnessed time and time again from Johns. The man had little care for those weaker than himself. Or at least he acted like he did. He’d shot children to flush his prey out. He’d threatened them with violent injury first, cutting them up to make it seem like his quarry had done it. He’d scared the shit out of the surviving children, messing them up for life. So had Johns taken a knife or a belt to Jack? Riddick glanced over his shoulder and said, “Oh… I’m starting to think I know why. Only, I’m not sure what to do about it.” His eyes focused briefly back on Johns. The merc scowled at him, and then jerked his chin to indicate that they were not safe. No… no, they weren’t. But was that heightened danger caused by something the redhead had done? Richard was not sure one way or the other. His instinct was to blame Johns, but…

Something tickled at his awareness about Ogilvie. The man was intent on the words and seemed overly concerned considering what he’d fought with Jack about before. Could the art dealer be more than he hinted at? Could he be behind this? Richard would have to watch Jack interact with Paris a bit more to be sure, either way.

Behind the survivors were the biggest, toughest bulls of the bioraptor lot. Both the human/alien group and the natives themselves knew this truth. They ignored the harsh burn, the pain. Battle scars hardened them to the fire. Both knew also that the contest between them was life or death for both parties. One side would live and mate, the other would die. For the red blooded group, the fight for life was the most pressing thing, mating might come later. The pheromones were certainly there. But for the blue blooded ones… killing and mating were one and the same. All the larger bulls needed for uncontested access to as many females as they wanted, all they needed to assure themselves a harem, was some red blood.

It was not as if the two groups were unaware of each other. The red-bloods had ways to tell where the blue-bloods were, and vice versa, for that matter. And both sides had weapons. The soft and sweet red-bloods, this time around, had not only the hated light-fire that burned the natives, but they had ways to bite back with sound and booming devices they carried. The bitter old bulls reacted to the bloodshed as they might over being challenged by some fool youngling, with rage and determined hostility, all sharp teeth and claws. The ability to come at the prey from any angle was forever useful, although thus far the ranks of the oldest bulls had been thinned rather a lot.

And then something odd happened, even though the remaining bulls knew the red-bloods were there still, in the same tunnels they inhabited when the fire was in the sky, they lost their scent in a blaze of pain. What had once led them like a sanguine ribbon wafting in the air became impossible to detect for the older ones, and the younger challengers behind them that could still smell it had to be prevented from getting that red blood and taking over the older bulls’ positions within the pack.

The red-bloods moved more and more away from the fighting, unaware that the larger males had a vested interest in keeping the smaller, younger, males from getting close to the prey. They kept moving, scanning, anticipating another attack that didn’t come. Slowly they became aware that perhaps they had shaken off the group following them. Still they did not dare to stop. They were driven by their sense of panic and desire to live. They kept a fast pace, even as one by one the bottles of alcohol burnt out. And yet, they did not stop until they were almost all dead on their feet, stomaches growling for food, mouths dry for moisture. They had been moving through the bioraptor tunnels for over a day and a half now. Finally back on track to reach the TARDIS after numerous side tracks and delays.

Switching back to hand lights as needed, they kept making their way through, slowly climbing now, following the path of the hills. It was the children that forced them to stop, finally. Jack stumbled and Suleiman caught him. A wordless thanks was passed, and the event noticed by the young Doc-Tam. “We need to stop again. We should rest,” Simon called out, noticing that Ali was in about the same shape as Jack. They were in a fairly narrow, low passage now, in the bend of a turn. They decided to stop there, so that they could put the boys against the wall and protect them from two sides.

Jack sank down to the floor gratefully, not caring about where, and luckily not being forced to move right away. He weakly struggled out of his backpack. He hurt, all over. His legs and muscles were sore. His feet ached. His head was throbbing, and he felt the damp in his underclothes that indicated re-injury. So embarrassing. How was he to actually tell anyone that his ass was bleeding? It wasn’t his fault. It burned, so bad. But – if he told then there was the threat to his friend hanging over him still. He was too tired to even flinch from the low-level constant pain, to weary to cry.

Ali settled next to his friend and stifled a yawn, “Feels like it’s been days. Don’t think I’ll ever want to stay up past my bedtime again.” Jack murmured an agreement and shifted to get more comfortable, hoping that his friend didn’t think it was odd behavior. Ali’s too engrossed in rubbing his own feet to notice much about Jack’s discomfort. He didn’t even think it overly odd when the shaved-headed boy shifted onto his hip and leaned onto his pack. Jack’s green eyes caught River’s expression of faint horror though. He quickly glanced away, taking in what the adults were doing. Off to the ‘back’ of the group Johns and Fry were reloading weapons and counting ammo. Over at the ‘front’ Simon and the Doctor were huddled with Richard and playing with the medical scanner. Jack had to fight the urge to wiggle in discomfort as those silver eyes glanced at he and Ali. “You Okay, Jack?” the Arabic boy asked.

“No. I’m not,” the green-eyed boy lashed out at his friend without thinking overly much. “We got monsters with razor sharp teeth trying to eat us, Ali. I’m definitely not ‘OK’. I’m scared shitless. And I don’t want to hurt you, but Hassan is dead. How many more of us will die before this is over?”

Ali clapped a hand onto Jack’s shoulder, not noticing his friend flinching from the touch, “God will protect us. You just need faith in that.”

“He sure as shit didn’t protect Hassan, did He?” Jack snapped. Then seeing the pain on the other boy’s face, “I’m sorry. I don’t mean that. I’m sure God had plans for your brother and that was meant to be his place to go, if it makes it any easier for you, Ali. I’m just – tired. And my feet hurt.” Jack sensed the approach of an adult before he knew which one it was, and managed to squash the impulse to rabbit away from presence. He glanced up to see pale skin and dark hair. Simon. He liked the Doc. The young medic was a good person. But the expression on the man’s face made him shiver inside. Just like River and the older alien Doctor, this younger fellow had figured it out.Or at least guessed. Jack found himself rocking even before the other man had settled down in front of them.

Simon was all ‘Dr. Tam’ business-like at the moment. He felt more than saw the evidence of trauma in Jack. The boy had been abused. Perhaps he’d run away from home because of it. Perhaps something else had happened. Jack’s shaved scalp revealed scars that looked to be from beatings, but not old ones, necessarily. They might have been a year or two old at the most. Cryo worked wonders for healing scars like those. The other option to explain the scars was a fall, he supposed, but the hints of burns lent credence to the boy being abused. Now his over arching concern was trying to fix this, at least enough to get them all through the situation alive.

He first needed to get Jack alone. Thankfully, Imam and Suleiman were getting ready to pray. Simon crouched down in front of the two children, “Ali, would you please go over to Imam and your brother? I believe they are praying, and you should be as well.” The child nodded and moved without questioning him. Jack bit back a groan and started to get up as well. Simon stopped the youth, “Jack. I need to scan you.”

“No! There ain’t no reason. Leave me alone.”

The Tam scion caught the child before he could flee. Normally he’d not grab a injured scared patient, but this was not in any way normal. He needed to scan the boy, and he needed to do it before they ran into more of the natives. Not to mention that the boy looked pale, too pale, and that frightened the young doctor. What if the child was bleeding, hemorrhaging, badly? What if he needed to do surgery to stop an internal injury? “Jack! Listen here, if you are injured someplace that is not visible I need to treat it.” What if the boy was dying in front of them and they’ve ignored it too long? “I’m not going to hurt you.”

“I’m fine. Nothing’s wrong.”

Simon gave Jack a look; “If that is so then I won’t find anything, will I?” Jack slumped back to the floor and pouted. Slowly the medical scanner made its way over the child, with the ebony-haired man getting a deeper frown as he tabulated the information that he was getting. It wasn’t that the boy was dying, but rather some of the readings made no sense what-so-ever. The child had two more ribs than normal, but otherwise seemed basically human, proper number of most organs at least, except for the digestive system, which possessed an extra couple of twists that seemed to indicate extreme efficiency in getting every calorie and bit of nutritional value from every bite of food.

Something about this twinged at his awareness. Where had he seen this pattern of dual stomachs and twinned intestines that led into a singular opening for excrement? He scanned Jack’s lower torso, noting that one large intestine didn’t seem fully attached to the rest of his digestive system, rather Jack had two of them, one of which seemed self contained and not connected to his small intestines at all and the other seemed to have urethra tubes linking it to the bladder, and was rather Cloacal-like, and yet not. It was interesting in that the lad seemed perfectly fine with this opening, and that he functioned without issue with it, and there was no sign of infection or other problems. He knew he’d seen similar before, but where? Likely he’d remember later.

The injury was to the rather more normal looking anal opening and was not that bad, although the cause of it could only be one thing. That pissed the Tam scion off in a major way. The boy was suffering from internal abrasions and some minor tearing, anal fissures, mostly. These were not nearly as serious as he’d feared they were, and with some care he could treat it as long as they could stop the penetration from happening again. Simon latched onto his feelings of relief and pushed the shaking rage away for a moment, “Alright, Jack. I can fix this.” He reached out to touch the child’s chin and lifted his face. The boy did not flinch from him. In fact being told it could be fixed eased away so much fear that the boy launched himself into Simon’s arms as he cried. “Why didn’t you tell anyone?”

“Who’d believe me?” the boy sobbed out. Jack found himself surrounded by warm arms in a hug that was all comfort.

“I do,” Simon whispered into the child’s ear. “Come on, I’ve got some medications that will solve this problem.” He moved the boy over a bit and carefully set up a privacy screen, feeling grateful to the Doctor for insisting that they take a sheet with them, as he used it and some spears for the division. Once that was done he turned back to the boy, “I’ll need to get a look at how bad it is, Jack.” The Tam scion wanted to know who did this to the boy so he could do similar to them; he was so angered. But Jack didn’t need the cold fury so Simon slammed it aside again. Better to deal with healing the child first, and then allow the Doctor to deal with the revenge side of things.

Shaking now, Jack struggled out of the glowing sweater and lifted his layered shirts to reveal old burns, like someone took a cigar and put it out against his skin. Old but not that old. They, like the scars on the boy’s scalp looked to be about a year or so aged. He wondered what happened to Jack in the first place. Had the boy run away from an abuser only to end up being taken advantage of here too? How had they not seen it happening? Simon kept his face neutral even though the boy was not looking at him. Keeping his eyes on the floor Jack dropped his pants to let Simon see the cause of the fresh injury. “It was my fault. Don’t go blamin’ anyone.”

Simon moved over to Jack and took his chin again, “This is not about placing blame, not on you or anyone. Got that?” The green-eyed boy nodded. As a doctor, Simon could put his emotion aside for the time being and deal with this injury first. He pulled out a space blanket and hadthe boy kneel so he could clean and examine the wounds before trying to apply the proper creams and sealers to stop the blood. He still couldn’t figure out how this had happened without no one noticing. Finally he asked the boy, “Where?”

“Bathrooms. I shouldn’t have invited it. It — ”

Dr Tam placed a light hand on the boy’s thin back, “Never. Jack this is never your fault. If I ask you ‘who’ will you tell me?” At the same time he pulled an antiseptic wipe and began cleaning the area around the wound and carefully checking how bad it was. Jack shook his head and didn’t even flinch as he automatically moved to make it more accessible.

“Back home that would’ve been getting off easy. Not the first time, you know? I didn’t think much of it. It happened and I didn’t get burned, so…”

“Back home? None of your injuries are over a year old. How did this start?” Simon went silent as he worked, carefully dawning a glove and massaging until the boy was comfortable and relaxed with him.

“OK, not home- home. Where I escaped from- home.” Jack was actually enjoying the touch, completely at ease and trusting. “It’ll sound crazy, but I was heading home from school and this cyborg-like guy grabbed me off the street and everything sort of spun and shifted…” the boy paused a moment and then plunged into the rest of it, unsure of how the Doc was going to react, “They said that it was to get even with my Da. That he’d done something or hurt someone and made them mad so they were gonna use me to hurt him. But my Da – he’s dead, so I just played along until I could slip away. They did a lot stuff, I sorta forgot who I was for a while…”

“I need to apply this topical sealant, internally,” the Doc said quietly.

Jack bit his lip, “Nothing with salicylic acid, right? I’m allergic to those compounds.”

Simon paused and double checked the gel, “It’s perfectly safe for you. Thank you for telling me about your allergy, Jack.” The boy nodded, as if such a thing were a given and only hissed slightly when the topical medicine was applied. The follow up shot didn’t even garner a reaction. Once the actual weeping of blood stopped the Tam scion quietly asked, “Are you positive that this has not happened to anyone else? Like Ali, for example?”

That question made the boy stiffen with alarm. Then Jack twisted to look at the older young man with scared green eyes, “Please, no…” It was difficult to say if the boy was reacting to the request for more information or if he had not thought about the risk to his friend. In reality he was terrified that he’d been lied to and that the sick jerk had done this to Ali too, counting on the fact that the boys wouldn’t talk to each other about it. Finally he said, “He promised.” Then with a resigned slump, “I – don’t know.”

Dr. Tam provided the boy with clean underclothes and helped him dress, amazed that the child was able to hold himself together under this sort of situation. He’d seen adults who had been attacked in like fashion totally fall apart. The next step was to locate who had the daring to pull this off under their noses. Only Jack knew, and he wasn’t sure that the boy was willing to say. Simon had to try, “Who did this, Jack.”

Jack shook his head and started to sob. There was no way he could say as long as Ali was at risk. He just wouldn’t. He’d given his word and his athair had always insisted that his word was his bond. Without it he was nothing. Since he had nothing else to give he had to cling to that.

Simon emerged from the screen to find that the adults were all focused on one tunnel or another, and that River, Suleiman, and Ali were watching the white sheet with worry at the quiet sobs still coming out from behind it. He glared at a few backs, only one of which actually deserved it, trying to get his anger back under control. Jack refused to say who had done the deed, breaking into tears instead. Riddick was watching, out of the corner of his eye. Simon glowered at the ex-ranger too, only to his face.

Rich walked over, “Well?”

“It was Jack they were following.” He held up a sealed pouch with the child’s underclothes. “And if I find out who did this to the boy they are going to be in a world of trouble.” He wouldn’t mention the odd readings he had gotten from his medical scan, even though he couldn’t shake the feeling that he should recognize it from someplace.

The bronze skinned man stared at the packet, letting the Doc’s anger soak in to his awareness while he puzzled over everything,“So, Jack’s not a girl.” Riddick seemed slightly dazed, and that was nearly enough to push Simon’s suspicion off him. Then there was the fact that the con had been sure that Jack’s cover concealed the fact that there was a girl under the bravado.

The smaller dark-haired man’s jaw clenched as he struggled with the rage again. How long had Riddick been able to smell the tinge of blood on the boy? And why hadn’t he said anything sooner? He fixed the silver-eyed man with a glare that could nearly peel paint. The con took half a step back, surprised by the raw anger there. “Jack is male. As male as you or I.” At this Rich nodded, looking humbled. Simon relaxed, feeling that he could trust this man. He might be a killer but he was not a sexual predator. He would not have raped a child. Still he had to ask, to be sure, “Can you swear you never touched the boy?”

There was an undercurrent in the words that made the bronze skinned man shiver. Someone’d been hurting Jack and the kid just sucked up and kept quiet. No wonder he’d settled down and started being all silent and respectful like. But who? He knew who his suspects, but he wasn’t sure it was a wise idea to just blurt them out. He’d never seen the Doc so pissed off. It was like the shadow of fury he had felt in the alien, like given time it could be just as powerful. “I never laid a finger on him to hurt him, Simon. I don’t swing to the young. But –” He glanced over at the merc, “There are others who might.”

Simon stepped up into Riddick’s personal space, showing no fear, “If you smelled blood on Jack why didn’t you say anything?”

“It’s been weeks since I noticed the faint lacing of iron in the boy’s scent, OK. I thought –” the ex-ranger shrugged, “I thought Jack was a girl. You’re not supposed to notice stuff like that. I was being polite.”

The Doc-kid rubbed his own face, “If you are lying to me I’ll castrate you.”

“If I’m lying, I’ll castrate myself. With a dull, rusty pin.” Richard was trembling now, from the wash of rage that ignited his own. If Johns did this he’ll strangle the blue-eye devil with his own intestines. “Can I see him? Think he’ll want someone there?”

“Yes.” Simon stepped back and allowed the con to pass him, “Try to move him, I need to scan Ali.” The professional detachment was back in place, making the Tam scion seem the mild mannered and the perfectly soothing medical professional.

Richard clenched his fist and rocked on the balls of his feet before nodding. Someone was going to pay. He took a deep breath and stepped behind the makeshift screen, “Why, Jack? Why didn’t you say anything?” The boy didn’t react until he felt the large warm hand on his shoulder that he knew was safe. Then he threw himself at the big muscled man and cried harder. The same question was rattling around in his own brain. Did giving his word to someone that hurt him count? Should he have told someone? If Ali was untouched, now that others knew, could he reveal who had done this? He didn’t know why, but brain kept telling him he couldn’t tell. He couldn’t, not yet. Maybe later… but not here and now.

The ex-ranger enfolded the thin child in his arms and carried him out from behind the screen. He noticed two things. One, Jack was light for his size. Two he was cool to the touch much as River was. But was his temperature due to his being chilled or was it natural? He hugged the boy to him and scanned the others. He couldn’t take the boy over to the Doctor, because River was moving over there. Richard didn’t trust Paris or Johns. The only one he did trust was Imam. Telling the holy man that one of his charges might have been abused wasn’t going to be fun. He sure hoped Ali came back with a reading that indicated he’d remained unharmed.

River slunk back to the Doctor, working her way under his leather jacket. She needed to hide in the face of the rage her brother was radiating like sharp spikes of bright sunlight and the golden mini-fireworks of fury and worry from Rich that were like the sparks from metal as it was being forged. Jack’s brown was so dark it was almost black. The contrast hurt. The Time Lord pulled her in, trying to protect both Simon and River at the same time and from each other. She whimpered. He stroked her hair and increased the mental blocks around her mind, cutting off Simon almost totally from his sister. The young man was too focused on his task to currently notice.

Johns watched the drama unfold, trying to tamp down his own sense of panic over it. He had periods of blackouts, from the morphine, and was wondering if he’d done something stupid. But even in a drug induced haze he didn’t think he’d hurt anyone. Surely he’d have not been crafty enough to escape notice with how the Doctor watched his every gorram move like a hawk. So if he wasn’t the one behind this then who was? The Doctor? Imam? Rich? Ogilvie? Surely if the Tam kid had done it he’d not be so self righteously angered, and besides he’d had plenty of meds to hide it if so. The Doctor was about as predatory as a rabbit, as far as that went. And the Imam too. Would Rich be so trusted by the kid if he’d buggered him? No. The marshal stared at the art dealer. Paris was crouched down in the light looking confused. Something about the man wasn’t adding up. Why could he read maps and use survey gear? What was it about the fellow that was suddenly bothering him so much. All that expensive stuff… on a cheap freighter? Surely there was more to it than that. Then again, maybe he was ignoring his own guilt.

Carolyn moved away from Johns and over to Jack and Riddick while Simon escorted Ali off behind the screen, meeting them as they reached Abu. “Rich? Jack?” She put a hand on the boy’s head and noticed that he flinched slightly before almost nuzzling into her hand as she gently soothed her fingers through his honey brown closely cut hair. She petted him for a moment, helping to calm his sobs. “What did Simon find?” She addressed her question to the goggled man. He almost didn’t look at her. Fry made a face. From they way Jack was acting and the way Rich was holding him she’d guess that it was bad in a moral sense if not a medical one. Question was, who had done it?

Imam felt sick to his stomach. Just looking at the way Jack clung to Mr. Riddick was enough for him to make some guesses as to what had happened, but that meant someone in this group was capable of great cruelty. “Let us wait until we know if Ali has also fallen prey to events.” Honestly he didn’t want to know the details, as horrific as a thing his mind was already painting, envisioning beatings or cuts… but then the next words twisted his worries into a new direction totally, making his gut contort into uncomfortable knots.

Rich looked at Fry, “Enough to threaten to castrate whoever did this.” Imam paled even further, hoping beyond hope that nothing had happened to Ali. He’d assumed that they were safe in the Hanger that the threat was all from without. Now it appeared that someone inside the group was as much of a predator as the natives here. If he were not on Hajj he’d kill the person responsible. If Ali had been soiled in such a fashion he might kill regardless.

Carolyn looked at the holy man, “Imam? Are you OK?”

“No. Captain,” he bit out.

She looked at Riddick, “Well, you were right about the ripping apart thing. But we don’t have evidence of guilt, do we?”

“Never needed it in my case, why do we need it now?” The con rumbled. She winced. Jack clung harder as if he feared being put down. Fry placed a light hand on the kid’s back and rubbed little circles. Slowly the child calmed, realizing that Carolyn and Imam were not going to force Richard to release him until he was ready to be put down.

Ali and Simon walked back out from behind the screen a few moments later. The boy looked surprised that something might have upset his friend so badly, but he had no idea what it could be. “He’s fine, Imam. Sorry about the alarm,” Dr. Tam said. “I just feel better having checked, is all.” The holy man nodded and gathered Ali into his arms, hugging the boy tightly. “Jack, we’re going to have to keep moving.” Jack slowly untangled from Riddick, gaining his feet as the large man put him down. “We will protect you, Jack. It would help to know who to protect you from, but none the less we will protect you.” Simon handed the boy back his pack and the glowing sweater then headed over to repack the screen.

In that touch of Jack’s hand with his own he saw a flash of orange, deep and coppery. But he couldn’t tell if it was an aura or something physical he seeing. He knew though that whatever was associated with that color, whoever was the cause of that vivid copper shade was the cause of the boy’s distress. Simon paused as he folded the sheet and he looked around. Ogilvie had that color of orange in his shirt. But Johns had hair that shade. And he couldn’t see auras. He could describe the color to River he supposed, but his sister was distraught enough as it was. His eyes met the blue ones so like his own, and he felt the connection between them simmering, ‘I’m going to do the most horrific things I can to the person that has hurt Jack,’ he thought.

There was a ripple of dark amusement, ‘If Richard doesn’t beat you to it,’ came the flow of mental energy behind it. What else the Doctor might be thinking Simon had no idea, but there was some sense of his being ready to back the group decision on the matter, either to forgive or condemn.

Simon thought that it was very true, considering how protective the ex-ranger was acting toward Jack at the moment. Then again, he didn’t much care who actually did the deed, only that it was done. That in mind he smirked, ‘As long as I can watch, I won’t mind much. Think of how inventive Rich must be at that sort of thing.’

‘You are scaring River,‘ came the warning note back to him.

He glanced up at the Doctor and his sister and noticed that he can only see the back of her head and her legs from inside the Time Lord’s jacket. ‘Sorry, Mei-Mei.’

‘Comprehendible, considering the circumstances, that you would apperceive vehemence.’ Her face lifted up from the black shirt she was huddled against, and she looked at him with large dark eyes. She’d been drugged when he felt this rage last, and hadn’t been so raw being exposed to it.

Simon knew that Big words meant she was hiding her mind from him. Or more precisely from his emotions. The feeling of anger and desire to harm that was so alien to him most times that it often scared him too when he felt it, was what she was trying to avoid. He was being very selfish with his lack of control. He sucked his rage and desire for twisting his medical knowledge into something black and evil back in, sending to her a wave of regret. He never wanted to hurt her with his very human failings. She responded by sending back warmth and love, but remained mentally hidden, the whisper of her mind only a faint muffled buzz. ‘I’d feel the same if it were you.’

‘I know,’ He got a slight smile now. But there was something in her eyes that was dark, similar to what he saw in the Doctor’s eyes. Like she was becoming something else. ‘I know because you do feel that way about what was done to me.’ At least she accepted his protective nature on that front, seeing it as normal that he’d almost need to cause injury to sooth the rage in his heart.

Submersion

The new passage led them further down; crossing under the canyon by tens of meters at the least. The temperature seemed to level off into one of constant cool-but-not-chilly. All told it was cold enough that the Doctor blended in with the background temperature and for once did not appear so much cooler that he was showing up in Riddick’s vision as a wash of navy-blue with purple-pink edges. At least it was dry here. There was no sound of the clicking screeches from the native hammerheads either.

They walked and walked, still on high alert and as silently as possible, listening for any sound that would give away the location of their hunters. There were several twisting passages that led off into the darkness but because the visible floor was a jumble of rocks and rough surfaces they bypassed those in favor of the wide, nearly dry, somewhat smooth route they were already on. As they walked the floor went from dry to slightly damp, the natural drainage ruts giving way to a broad but very shallow stream. After some careful poking and some scanning they determined that it was safe enough to continue on this route because the rock underfoot was dampened by a slight sheet of water, barely a fraction of a centimeter thick, and still was rough enough for their shoes to grip.

The rocks glistened around them from the light, looking wet or studded with crystals. The colors of the stone was more pronounced, still shades of tan and yellow with a smattering of brown or grayed stone to break up the plain look of it. Their cool toned light washed out the scene making everything very surreal. It was a rather mixed bag. They’d decided to stick to dry areas but the caverns above them were more likely to be accessible to the predatory natives. So this wet area made them slow down a bit, testing each step and carefully walking in the path of those in front of them when possible.

The first sign of life here that was not trying to kill them took them all by surprise. The Doctor put his arm out to stop them, peering into the darkness ahead. He and Richard quietly and jointly decided to keep on this path, once it was clear that what they spotted was not moving. The rather bright green specks turned out to be some tiny cream colored fungus that looked very much like dainty mushrooms. Pale in their cool toned light, these small clusters took on a faint greenish tinge in the shadows, and once they realized what was going on their eyes could pick out the rather bright green specks in the darkness of several side passages. Carolyn nudged William, “Did you see? The plants here are glowing.”

Actually, he didn’t. “Um?” He was rather more focused on the shape of her hand as she pointed and had to force himself to not watch her fingers move.

“Look Johns.” She pointed again, “Look at the rocks.”

He shrugged, “Natural defense mechanism. The top predator can be killed by light so the creatures lower on the food chain produce it.”

This was their first hint that perhaps they might find safe areas to rest down here. Clearly the light would keep the natives away at least. Most of them put out their open flames, knowing that they should save their light for when they really needed it. Paris kept his burning, just as he’d kept his handlight on. Needless to say, most of the others found his paranoia annoying.

Then if the slowly increasing green glow wasn’t enough to make him feel secure then likely nothing would be. The fungus gradually increased in size and number as they went along, and soon the turned into a twisting passage that was once again dry, leaving behind the stream bed they had followed thus far. It was clear that moisture slowly made its way through the rock here, etching it into new surreal shapes. The existing fungus couldn’t be all that was here, however. There was something on the walls that produced a sheen of a glow, deeper bluish green tones. And as they got closer it was clear that the color came from something else growing on the moist walls.

Simon whispered, “A bacterium? Maybe? Could it be that there is an entire ecosystem down here?” He sounded quietly excited about the prospect of seeing something that had been overlooked in such a dramatic fashion. The sensation he got from the Doctor echoed his feelings.

The alien thought this was just as likely and thrilling as he did. “More than likely,” the pale man replied. “the larger creatures must have come from someplace, perhaps they exist lower down, or were protected by their own glow and were scavenged when they died in a cave in?”

“Wouldn’t that be – Fantastic?” Carolyn added.

Johns made a face, “No. Just alien. I didn’t realize you were prone to flights of fantasy, Fry.” She gave him a frown but did not retort. He added, “I don’t fancy running into a ship sized glowing slug, OK? Might not be quite a dangerous as the hammerheads, but still might try to eat us.”

The young Doc Tam said the the merc, “You’re a very up,person, aren’t you?” His voice dripped with sarcasm.

“Oh, sure,” the redhead tossed back, “Blame me for being realistic. Fine. Just don’t expect me to haul your ass out of something’s giant maul when it tries to make lunch out of you.”

At this Simon gave William a grin, “I’ll watch my step.”

It was enough to make the marshal go silent from shock. The young doctor was joking with him and treating him like he was an OK bloke, which Johns wasn’t used to. The boys in the squad had been like that, but he was years past any sort of comradely anything. His oft adversarial relationship with Rich was as close to a friend as he had. Mercs just didn’t form attachments. The death count was too high and just because you liked and trusted someone didn’t mean they liked and trusted you back. No, it was far more likely that another merc would stab you for your profit than anything else. It was strange then, that he’d clung to Rich so tightly, and yet even so this young man, barely more than a kid, was reaching out to him. Simon was not a merc. He could be trusted. Johns snorted and then chuckled.

The entire group shifted into a narrow darkened passage which had a sudden sharp turn. They cleared the bend and stepped into a scene that was unreal. Not because it was fantastic in the sense that it couldn’t exist, but that even with the faint signs of it being possible none of them could have braced themselves for the sheer enormity of variety that suddenly confronted them.

It was like finding an unspoiled bit of jungle hidden away in a desert valley, this new cavern that dropped away below them in a profusion of fungus based forest, glowing with fluorescence and bioluminescence. They’d pretty much gotten used to the green and green-blue. But this was cyan and yellow and orange and red… and combinations thereof, in addition to the shades they had already seen. If it weren’t for the amount of light being released they might have mistaken the smooth forms for some strange type of mineral formation. But it was very clear that these large pillars were some form of life, if only by the unusual scaled and cupped shapes that some took near their tops. The largest of the stalks were easily eight meters tall, and nearly a meter around, towering right to within touching distance of the ceiling, although capless but for a few that seemed to be actively dropping spores which misted into the air in clouds of colored puffs.

The Doctor flushed cinnamon across his cheeks and put an arm out to make them stop. Not like they were going to go running straight in anyhow. Carolyn recalled the bones tinged with lichen, the only indication of life that might have been still alive at the time that she’d completely overlooked. Now looking at the scene in front of them she realizes that perhaps this isn’t so strange, the combination of glowing bacterium and fungus, or algae and fungus that had appeared on the walls previously giving way to larger forms of Lichen perhaps. The Time Lord was messing with the settings on his sonic thing-a-bob, “Let me scan…” he started with a command that seemed to fade into breathlessness. It was really no wonder that he seemed to feel awestruck.

Jack murmured, “Wow.”

Even Ogilvie was staring at the scene with his mouth open. Jack and Ali were both trying to look at everything at once, likely taking in more details than the stunned adults were. After a moment the pale man mumbled, “Very much like Prototaxites, if I’m readin’ this right. Very Delicate. Do not touch.” It was impossible to say if he was making the order to a single individual or to all of them.

“What’s a ‘Prototaxites’?” Suleiman asked.

River answered him, “Ancient giant form of life, believed to be a fungus or fungus/alga hybrid – a lichen. On Earth-that-Was they evolved and dominated the landscape in the Suli-Devonian period. The large towers seen here would be immature fruiting bodies, and our passage could destroy thousands of years of growth in minutes.”

“I’m not sure we have much choice,” Paris said. “Besides if it’s us or these – things…”

“Mr Ogilvie,” Imam cut in, “You are not helping.”

The Doctor fixed the art dealer with an expression that was about as dark as he’s fixed Johns with before, prompting the merc to tell the fellow, “If I were you, I’d shut up.”

“Simon, let me see your medical scanner a moment. I might be able to tweak it to detect exobiology. Since Fungi are more animal then plant it should detect on your scanner,” the Time Lord told the medical doctor. In short order the Tam scion had passed his scanner over to the Doctor who spent a few moments tinkering with it. While he’s focused on the work the others end up just gaping at the sight of all the different forms of glowing life that was becoming evident as they stood there.

Yes, there was life here; strange, glowing life with variety unlike anything they had imagined. Cream, golden, and orange mushrooms nestled into the nooks and crannies acting to recycle what the animal life here excreted, forming the lower levels of ‘plant’ life to the larger ‘trees’ above them. The air glowed from the winged insects that had retained the glowing properties, blinking on and off in the distance, alien forms of fireflies or glowbugs, that were rather shaped like ants with dragonfly wings, although with enough of an alien cast to remind everyone that this was not anywhere near terrestrial.

The Doctor finally finished his tinkering and made a scan with the device, focused on the ground, which formed a jumble of rocks that might function as a ramp down if they are lucky. He’s more concerned about the fungus underfoot, and the glowing slime on the near wall that formed streaks of green, blue, and red cut through with lines of grazing trails that ended up leading to bright green thin reed like worms, and thicker mottled cream and glowing yellow slugs, sectioned larvae with bright red and orange flickering patterns that seemed to be almost as bright as a neon sign might be. He was checking for poison, for how much damage their presence will make here, concerned for both their safety and that of the ecosystem before them. With a slightly surprised grunt he passed the scanner back to Simon, “Appears that these organisms are a mite tougher than the ones that evolved on Earth. I think if we are careful we can rest here, providing there’s a clear spot someplace.”

He then turned his attention to the rockfall, scanning it to check how stable it is. Fortunately the brightly glowing lichen poking from the cracks seem to be responsible for stabilizing it. In fact the entire floor of the cavern seems coated with the stuff, patches of color and different shapes indicating a healthy level of diversity, and there are fairly large spider-crab, millipede, and scorpion like creatures walking on it, grazing on it, even, indicating that it will recover quickly from any damage they might do. The hard shelled giant creatures are lined with bright glowing patterns that seem to function as both communication and camouflage.

Imam asked, “Those -” he swallowed, “Is it safe?”

“Yes.” The pale man gave the dark skinned one an expression that was, at least, sympathetic, “Unlike what might be more familiar to you, these are all grazers. They lack poison and predatory drive.” The Doctor and Richard started slowly down the incline, “I assume it’s because they have evolved under such pressure from the hammerheads that mutual cooperation is more beneficial.” The others carefully follow them, alternatively trying to keep track of where they are walking and look about at the alien sights around them. Slowly the group entered the speckled glowing cavern. They fit right in, with their fiber optic blue day-glow spider look.

In addition to the slick walls that stretched out of view, damp with trickling moisture, and coated with glowing slime-like life in glowing hues, there were brightly glowing larvae dotting various surfaces, in some cases so thickly as to form crusts that moved about, leaving swatches of bared rock in their wake. These immature creatures were soft bodied but existed in a profusion of shapes and sizes ranging from worms and grubs to miniature versions of the hard shelled adults that grazed without care on the lichen and fungus littering the floor of the cavern.

The careful progression halts again when they discovered the ‘jungle’ giving way to a huge clear, reflective, body of water that is lit from the bottom by glowing spotted bony fish, mats of algae, glowing seaweed like forms, blooming in spots across where part of a Prototaxites has landed in the water. There were glowing coral-like formations, shifting in shades of blue and yellow as day-glow crabs, shrimp, swimming insect larvae, and squid-like creatures darted about. Here then, looked to be some minor predation, or at least efficient scavenging going on. Their eyes are drawn up by the gossamer wings that flutter past them, drifting up until they make out against the velvet black of the ceiling over the glowing water what looks like stars, pale blue glistening sparkles. They realize, quickly, that the specks are moving, wiggling, glowing grub-like worms. The half ant/half dragonfly like insects flit about here, a profusion that led them to conclude that the blue larvae must be the immature forms of the flying creatures. Amazement flashed over Richard’s face, the entire cavern finally sinking into his mind. He turned his silver-eyed gaze on the man to his left. “Ever see anything like it before?”

When he stopped to think about all, the Doctor was just as awestruck as the others crowding around behind them. He said nothing but made a face that read, ‘how about that?’ before meeting Richard’s eyes with his own and shaking his head. The lake posed a problem. If they went this way how do they get across it? “Should we take a break here?” Imam asked. In spite his uncertainty about safety of the large hard-shelled creatures grazing behind them, the beach was mostly cleared stone.

They were in the middle of an alien ecosystem, the glowing life covering the rock here softened it enough to almost make them forget the danger they were in. They’d come a long way, however. The walk they’d made from the coring room had taken them out of their way by a long measure, putting them a day behind. But they needed to rest before they fell over. This was as safe as they were going to get. It had been hours since they stopped last. No one wanted to over tax him or herself. “Let’s, yes,” Paris piped up hopefully. “But we should be careful. The glowing things might bite.”

Carolyn gave the art dealer a disbelieving look, then said, “Suppose you can never be too cautious.” Casting around for a half dry and clear spot, they wander into the left side of the ‘beach’ area and find a location that was rock, nice and solid, with no glowing things on the ground. The low stalagmites glisten with little specks of light, tiny glow-worms apparently consuming the minerals from the rock. There are no spores falling here, either. It was as good a place as any.

Suleiman handed out food after they had all settled down. He’d been quiet since his younger brother died, but was bursting with questions about why Hassan had been so eager to die, so ready to brave the unknown. It didn’t seem proper to ask, and he doubted that anyone would understand. What purpose did God have for them if their fate was to die here? He didn’t notice really when River sat next to him until she said, “He was determined, your brother. Wanted to be like the men, to face danger and be brave. Only when he sought it, he realized that he’d made a mistake. Too late. I’m sorry.”

Meeting her brown eyes gave him totally different problems than he’d anticipated; leaving him tongue-tied and flustered. “Fault not yours,” Suleiman managed to get out.

The smile he got was sad but blinding all the same, “Nor yours. We all live or die here by our own discernment.” He wondered about that, really. But again it was not proper to ask such questions, Suleiman knew. Besides he liked this girl and – ‘Really, I shouldn’t be thinking such thing on Hajj’. “I still feel for your loss, Suleiman. If something happened to Simon — ”

“It won’t,” he interrupted putting his hand over hers. “Trust me, ‘Ver. I won’t let anything happen to your brother.”

The touch made her world explode in light and color; pinkish speckles and streamers seem to float before her eyes in a million different shades from near white to almost purplish. His heart laid in her hands, and she could crush it if she tried. It was a different caring than her brother’s protective worry-filled love or the Doctor’s guilt-ridden, duty bound compassion that might someday ignite into the same passion he felt for his Amadak. She had no idea. And she didn’t know how to react to it, this budding feeling he had that could be so very, very good if she were a whole, normal girl. But she’s not. Not even human anymore. There were things that were done to her that should have killed her but didn’t. And she knew that this normal boy could never ever totally accept what she’s becoming. She teared up and shook her head, “Don’t. Not for me.” River extracted her hand and moved away from the Arabic boy, not quite fleeing from what she’s seen, back to the Doctor’s side.

Suleiman was not sure why, but the rejection hurt all the same. He vowed, though, that he would do everything in his power to make sure River’s brother lived, even if he must die for it to be so.

The Time Lord was slightly apart, studying the glowing larvae on a nearby Prototaxites, quite careful to not touch the fascinating surface. Some of the grubs are fairly large ones at that, with spectacular patterns of slight variances in light output. They seem to be feeding on the lichen, or boring into it for shelter. River tucked herself into his side and buried her face. He does not look away from his study, automatically swinging his arm out for her to squeeze in closer and then resting the limb across her back. The small girl nearly climbed into his coat, all but disappearing against him.

Carolyn glanced over at Simon; “Doesn’t it bother you?” They were eating and drinking, careful to repack all the wrappers and containers when finished.

“Huh?” the Tam scion looked at the docking pilot then over at the scene, “No. River needs someone to help her heal from what she’s been through, captain. Her perceptions are no longer those of the rest of Humanity, because of the experiments performed on her. The Doctor isn’t human, but he does seem to sense the universe the way Mei-Mei does. He can explain things to her that I can’t even begin to imagine.”

Johns glanced between them, “What’d you mean, not human?”

Simon replied, “His vital signs do not fit into the normal variance for the human species, Mr. Johns. He’s not been shy about it. Although I still don’t know if his physical state, the lack of body hair and skin pigmentation, is normal or caused by some defect.”

“Haven’t you noticed how cool his hands are, Johns? Even when it was hot, his hands were always cool,” Fry added. “Not that it matters one wit to me. He could be naturally purple with green spots and I wouldn’t care.”

At that point Riddick settled down across from the merc. He’d been scouting and had come back to discover himself hovering near the alien fellow. Making the connection, he forced himself away from the man, “You all know he can hear every word, right?”

Carolyn raised an eyebrow. William got a look of guilty relief, glad he didn’t say worse. Simon nodded, “I don’t doubt it.”

“So how are we going to cross the lake? Or are we going to try to find another route?” Imam asked.

Riddick smirked at them; “There’s a thin ledge and a joining passage off to the right. I think it crosses under the boneyard. That’s the way we need to go. Only problem is that we’re going to have to go single file.” No one saw that as much of an issue. Rich hoped that none of them tripped over their own feet.

Because of the distance covered and the fact that they were all rather ‘trained’ by the Doctor’s actions over the course of their survival thus far, when he moved River back into the circle, settled down and closed his eyes, most of them felt immediately sleepy. Richard was slightly surprised that the Doctor squeezed in next to him, touching his side, not even attempting to disguise the need to be there from any ofthem. While none of them wanted to risk being caught, they needed to sleep a few hours. It was little more than a nap, however, lasting only a little while before they mutually decided to press on. They figured out an arrangement that left Jack in the middle. Fry, Paris, and William were again at the back, with the art dealer closer to the marshal than before. “Feel like I’m being written off…” the older man mumbled.

“So you noticed too?” the redhead whispered back to him.

The man glanced back as they shimmied their way along the narrow overhang that has quite a fall below it, as they can’t tell how deep the water was, “I was under the impression you wanted to be back here.”

“With my back exposed? Are you crazy?” Johns responded. “But there’s no way that I’m going to walk up front with Sir-Shiv-a-Lot, either.”

Paris felt his foot slip slightly, “Careful there’s a slick spot here. And I agree, but why can’t someone else wear the backpack? Why the kid?”

“It’s his pack,” Fry said. “That’s the only reason why.”

Finally the ledge widened out, as the wall gave way to a narrow crack-like opening. There’s enough space to walk two abreast, barely. Simon and Suleiman came to a halt ahead of the three in the back. “What is it?” the Arabic youth asked.

“See something I don’t like.”

“What, Mr. Riddick?” said the holy man.

“Um — Looks like a nursery, filled with egg mounds. No adults, but lots of mucus,” comes the con’s deep voice from ahead of them.

“Is it the predators?” Carolyn asked.

Seconds later both the Doctor and Simon finished consulting their respective scanners and answered, “Yes.”

Jack said, “I don’t want to come across as thoughtless, or mean, but can’t we just set the entire works on fire? You know, burn ‘em out. They must have other sites with eggs. Not to mention that they have lots of time to make more copies of themselves.”

“Jack!” Imam rebuked.

“Hey, it’s not likethey are trying to eat us or anything, right?”

Johns called, “I have to agree with the boy, if that counts. We’ve lost three of our own already. I didn’t see another passage back there.”

The Doctor saw both the holy man’s response to and the validity of Jack’s proposal. He sent a mental nudge to the TARDIS, ‘Did you know?’ The reply was both simple and complex, the external scans of the tunnel system appearing in his head with the chamber ahead of him outlined in signs that life was detected here alongside the mauve danger tones. He snorted. “The entire works are flammable. One good spark will set it off. Our light might set it off. And about twenty-seven point one percent of the hatchlings are ready to break free from their leathery shells.”

Behind them Paris pulled out the one non-used lamp. “Pass this up,” he said. The lamp found its way into River’s hands and she stopped to stare at it. ‘Is it evil to want to kill these things?’ She felt the bottle slide upward in her hand as Rich took it from her, bypassing Abu. She blinked at him.

“Should we vote, Carolyn?”

“Is it necessary? We don’t have another route, do we?”

The Doctor said, “Past this there are a number of interconnected passages, plenty of ways to avoid nearly any issue. But this is the route we have to take to get there.”

Iman sighed. “Don’t delay because I have objections to killing so many at once. This is survival. We must do as necessary to live.”

The deep gravely voice of the con advised, “Better to back up to the ledge and crouch, just in case.” They followed his words, and he lit the bottle from Abu’s half-empty one. Then he switched lamps with him and flung the more used one into the middle of the chamber. The flame ignited the air itself, like a fireball, and then set the other obstructions in the chamber alight. The smell was horrible. Everyone came out slightly toasted around the edges after the fumes finished burning off but none of them were seriously harmed. The blaze of light made the creatures in the tunnels ahead screech in agony.

Before the flames had died down, there’s an order, “Now, move. Come on. Keep Jack in the middle! Let’s go!” It’s the alien’s voice, but none of them think to contest the leadership. They scrambled into their formation and make a fast burst across the still burning chamber. There were several bursts of sound from the silver gadget that forced the ‘babysitting’ adults that had arrived to investigateinto a tunnel before the survivors swerve away into a side passage. The predators howl with anger now, tracking them even as Johns brought down the lead one with a shotgun blast.

“Fuckin’ christ! Keep moving! There’s a gang of them back here,” He called.

“Give me a pistol, Johns!” Fry said. He hands her one off his belt and she shot seconds later, taking one of the hammerheads off its course toward the center of the group. Paris let off a frightened squeak, spear and lamp both held to defend himself with. He felt Suleiman and Simon close ranks with him as the marshal and docking pilot usher them further down the wide tunnel. There was another burst of sound from above and behind them that caused their pursuers to freeze although they were clicking madly.

“Breathe, Mr. Ogilvie,” Dr. Tam hissed in his ear. “Come on, nice and deep,” Paris followed the instruction only because of the assurance in the younger man’s voice. “That’s right. In – Out.” At the moment the only thing that the art dealer wanted was more light, to hoard it, to never be in darkness again. The panic was nearly overwhelming but the gentle coaching to breathe gave him a rhythm and space to think clearly.

He looked at the medical doctor; “Can we switch places? Can I walk in your spot for a bit?”

“If you want to, but behind Suleiman and I and before Carolyn and William gives you more light.”

“Guns. I have a fear of guns,” he whispered.

“Here then, walk behind Jack, huh?” Simon offered, “Suleiman and I will flank you both.”

“Come on, Mr. Ogilvie. I don’t bite, much,” Jack teased to cover up his desire to flinch away from the fellow. He’d really rather have the man in front of him than behind anyhow. “You could walk in front of me, with Imam, if you want.”

Paris quickly moved up, River helping to guide his lead past the others so that it was not tangled. “Thank you,” the art dealer said.

“Are we settled then?” The Doctor asked. He got several nods. “Good, we’ll need to make the next left, because the natives should be bursting out from our right in about five seconds.”

While Johns wanted to challenge that, as it headed them away from the direction they want to go, he barely had time to respond to Fry’s tug to go left before a hammerhead lunged at him. His reaction was to blast it into blue sludge and to push the docking pilot further suggested direction, “Well, don’t just stand there, go left!”

She snickered, “And here I thought you’d argue.”

“Just shoot the damn things.”

They made a fairly speedy dash down the passage, which was wide and weaving, it ended up making a turn the direction the need to go before forking. The TARDIS key pulled the straight ahead, but Riddick said, “Go right!” He was spotting signs of life in the darkness ahead of them.

“What do you see Mr. Riddick?” Imam wanted to know.

Richard would rather not say, actually. The passage straight ahead held a drop off and a huge chamber. Filled with hammer-headed natives, all fighting for some top-notch prize. The right tunnel skirted this mess. Luckily the Doctor saved him from having to tell right away what the problem is, “How are they tracking us? The sonic pulses I’m putting out should be disrupting their echo-location.”

“Anyone cut?” Riddick tossed out. The entire mess of them scans over their exposed skin and all come up negative. “Might be me. Want to double-check my scratch, Simon?” Dr. Tam steps up and made sure the fine paper-thin cut on Rich’s shoulder was sealed under a coat of derma-heal. Another thought occurs to the man, wondering now if there might be another reason for there to be blood flowing. He looked at the women, “Either of you bleedin’ the other way?”

Carolyn met his gaze; “Company places all females on quarterly birth control. My menstrual cycle won’t start for another three weeks.”

Simon narrowed his eyes and scanned his sister; “She is not currently, no. Don’t look at her that way. Any of you.”

The Time Lord adjusted his pulse frequency, “Let’s move.”

“So what did we avoid back there?”

‘Damn.’ “Hard to tell, sometimes — even for me — but looked like a bunch of those big boys chewin’ each other’s gonads off. Thought the right passage would swing wide.” He looked at Paris who’d asked the second time, “Okay by you?”

The man gave him an owlish look then glanced back toward the darkness behind them. Clicking back that direction spurred the holy man to give the art dealer a nudge to move.

“Look, I don’t know how much ammo we’ve got here, so we need to keep ahead of these things,” Carolyn said as she backed toward the others, Johns at her side. “Get this train moving!”

The others responded by picking up the pace. At the next junction they got back to heading the direction they need to go to get to the TARDIS.

]]> http://gmandystardis.wordpress.com/2009/04/14/doctor-who-and-the-great-eclipse-part-2834/feed/ 0 gm andy's tardis http://gmandystardis.wordpress.com/2009/04/13/trying-to-picture-what-they-see-as-they-make-their-run/ http://gmandystardis.wordpress.com/2009/04/13/trying-to-picture-what-they-see-as-they-make-their-run/#comments Mon, 13 Apr 2009 16:15:00 +0000 gm andy's tardis http://gmandystardis.wordpress.com/2009/04/13/trying-to-picture-what-they-see-as-they-make-their-run/ ]]> Take a look, let me know what you think. Does this inspire you?
I’m having a desire to really sink into the description of what they see and try to make it as visual as I can but with words…

Note: I may add more to this or use it as a background.

Glow worm pics… The real thing from New Zealand. I don’t own either of these, and am posting them only because they are just awesome for inspiration.

In several sizes and speeds:

I played with picture types and grayscale trying to get the layers down in size.

Anyone have advice as to how I can make this more optimized?

EDIT: I got it in grayscale. Now I wonder if I can do it in color…

Note: someone dies in this chapter.

Wonderland

Goggles off and tucked into a hard protective case in his sweater pocket, Riddick was scanning the tall shelves with their core samples, up high, looking for signs of life more than anything else. His eyes darted back and forth, the light he kept with him turned off so that it didn’t interfere with his nightvision. Everything was a wash of pinks, purples, and navies, with the occasional white highlight. He could read the dates on the shelves and the scientific notations that indicated possible ages and depths of each sample, if he concentrated on it. But right now he needed to detect life-signs, heat, movement, and if possible do it with enough advance warning to get his light turned on while remembering to not look at it.

It was the Doctor’s urging that made him break away from the others, braving to scout. He had his shiv, and he had his hand light. Everyone else should wait for him to give an ‘all clear’. Should. Didn’t mean they would however. They’d all made it through the run, which was fuckin’ amazing in it’s own right. Now he could feel Death closing in on them. Which of them would she take?

He cleared one bank of shelves, still looking carefully for heat and seeing nothing but lifeless background. Was this room secure? Had they left this door open? Richard found that the twisted path through the ghost town to reach this room left him slightly unsure as to which of the storage rooms this one was. Add this sense of disorientation to the sound of the rain and the fact that he was not picking up indications of heat from these things, ultimately made his entire soul quiver from dread.

Richard let out a breath, noticing that it created a warmer cloud in the air now that was visible to his vision. It was getting colder. He scanned around again and set out for the next shelf. As he walked, silent as could be, eyes scanning about up high, he failed to notice the carcass on the floor until he’d set foot in it with a squish. He paused and waited, almost feeling the approaching creature across the upper shelf where it was slinking his direction. Only as it got close could he see it. The natives were almost the same temperature as the air. Riddick lifted his head, to look into the ‘face’ of an adolescent predator. Somehow he knew this one was female.

He dared not to breathe. She was sinuous, graceful in a totally alien fashion, and very intelligent. She must know he was there, but decided to allow herself to be distracted by the small body draped over the edge of the shelf. The hammerhead squatted atop the unit, completely ignoring him for the moment. Instead she feeds, attracted to the free meat. It’s her instinct to eat what was placed in front of her by a male that saved him, when combined with his attitude that screamed ‘I’m one of you‘. Richard lightly furrowed his brow as he had the chance to study her. Although she was a young female, barely of breeding age, she still had the typical heavy bone-blade crowning her skull. The shape of her ‘hands’ was almost triplicate pincher like, the three fingers being quite dexterous and ending in very sharp bony talons. Overall he got the impression that these, like the rest of the creature’s body, were designed for one thing: killing.

And as much as Richard B. Riddick knew about Killing, he knew that right now, moving would be inviting death. Last thing he wanted was to become dinner. Hell, last thing he wanted for any of them was for those he’d been living with to become dinner. It was then he realized how deeply attached he’d become to those around him. Not just the Doctor, River, and Simon, but Carolyn, Jack, Imam and his boys… the only one he really had mixed feelings about was Johns and that was because of past history. He didn’t want any of them to die. It was the most dangerous time of all when he first noticed that the others with him were getting restless. “Riddick?” came Fry’s voice through the darkness.

He could groan. His heart sunk into his stomach. What could he do if they have fanned out?He must chance that they have not. But in the darkness it was all too possible that someone had done something stupid. “Stay. By. The. Wall.” He ordered, his heart thumping with each word. He just hoped they listened. Were listening. Could grasp that they were not alone in here. Would follow his advice. The tempo of his pulse did not calm a bit. How stupid could they be? Should he risk drawing more attention to himself to tell them more?

There was a rustle behind him in the darkness, and a clicking sound like talons on metal shelving above him on his right and a more distant echo of the same sort of sound on his left. Who the hell had moved out of the safety of the light? He’d have to try to catch them as they moved past him. The whisper of shoes on the metal floor allowed him to peg down exactly how much longer he’d have to wait. He kept his breathing shallow and his eyes on the female in front of him, watching her feed, watching the dark colored innards of the truly copper blooded creature, a hatchling of her own species she was consuming, staining her sharp teeth with the gore of the dark blood. He knew that she was as deadly as the bull males were. Only luck had kept him safe thus far, and he was fairly sure it was out.

The creature above him paused in her munching and made a pass of noise that oddly reminded Richard of a curious mongoose after a snake. Everything from the way she tilted her head to the air of her search told him she was a predator. They might scavenge by necessity. They might cannibalize each other. But this species was pure predator. A case of evolution working too well, perhaps. Was he scared? Hell yes. He was terrified. But he also knew that he wanted to live and that he could see where these things relied on something else to find their way. As long as he didn’t move these young ones would not see him as food. He maintained his frozen stance as if he was one of them, just bigger, tougher, meaner, with a different physical form. It had worked for him before after all. It might work now. Only it didn’t because of two factors that were completely out of his control.

One was the fact that this female was not the only one of these creatures in here. In fact he was fairly sure there were at least three of them, and perhaps more. The others were likely to not be female. Or this docile even if they were female. He slowly toed the second hatchling carcass he’d stepped on onto his foot and raised it into his hand. The thing had a strong alien aroma, different in death then when burned. His stepping in it might have been a factor in keeping himself alive as long as he’d been facing this one down. Once he had the body in his fist he carefully and slowly got his feet planted again. The female in front of him just slightly wiggled her head as she clicked at him. She’d not viewed his moments as running or threatening so was merely ‘looking’ at him he guessed.

The new arrival of a second immature Hammerhead from his right side slightly divided his attention. This one was not female, but not sexually mature either. It was slightly smaller than the one that had been eating. The sounds of its claws on the shelving as it hopped from one to the other and then came up behind the female to see what she’d found sent chills up his spine. This one sent a wave of clicks over him too, and Richard pushed aside his idea about using the hatchling carcass in his hand to distract it. This one didn’t want more blue blooded meat. It wasn’t hungered, but it was hunting. A male trait. Hunt to have a gift for a female soshe’d mate with him. Even though he was too young to actually produce offspring it didn’t keep the instincts from showing.

If the individual behind him had just turned around at his words and gone back to the wall with the others there might be a chance that everyone would make it out of here. But the sound of wet cloth flapping against itself was closer than before and he guessed that one of the pilgrims was just a few feet behind him. If so, they were completely oblivious to the extreme danger they were in. It’s not until he caught the boy with a vice-like grip on the back of his neck that Richard knew which one it was. Hassan. And he’d come this way without his light too. Incredibly stupid. How the hell was he to get them both out of this?

The lad jerked in his hold unsure of who it was holding him because it was so dark here. Honestly who else would it be? The natives wouldn’t bother with a warning. Riddick hissed into his ear, “Don’t move.” Had it been safe to do so he would have smacked the kid quite hard for his asinine actions. Hassan realized then that Richard could have slid a blade between his ribs and he would have not seen him in the darkened room. But that was not why he was being told to not move. The faint but near clicking caused him to raise his head and look up into the darkness himself. The shadows on top of the shelf in front of him were moving. He let out a hissing breath and started shivering all over. He smelled of raw terror. Richard so wished he could spin the boy around and slap him, but he doesn’t dare with the two creatures looking down at them.

Of the two Hammerheads above them, Richard knew that the first one, the female, was curious but not that bold. Alone he’d be able to distract her with the second carcass and get he and Hassan out of this mess. However… She was not alone anymore and the second one, a immature male, was quite bold. He proved it by not only showering them with a pass of rapid clicks but by ignoring the half-eaten meal already on the shelf. It supported the ex-ranger’s estimate that this one was not interested in eating but rather hunting.

It took the male predator a moment to bridge the distance and reach its long limbs across the space. It extended its tail up and back for balance then added unfurled wings to the mix as it reached further. Hassan could sense more than see the movement. Richard squeezed with his fingers on the lad’s neck trying to make him keep still. Once it was extended as far as it could go it decided that it was not close enough and it crawled over the female, stepping right into her meal. She hauled off and snapped at him giving Richard the opportunity to drag Hassan back a step. The boy did not fight him and as soon as he felt the con go tense again he froze too.

By this time the third one from his right had reached the other two and was clicking toward Riddick and Hassan itself. It too ignored the free meal ticket on the shelf. Richard figured this was bad. Very bad. The other male that had stretched out before clashed heads with the newcomer for a moment but the female ignored them both and clicked at the ex-ranger. He was tempted to push the pilgrim behind him, if he had some way to pin him down he would. He doubted though that if he let go of the kid that he’d stay put. With the way the two males were posturing he had a feeling that running now would wind them up both very dead.

He steeled himself as the bolder male re-extended its body out toward him, managing to actually reach far enough this time to poke, with surprising gentleness, at his shoulder. He made no reaction, not wincing, not flinching, nothing. He got clicked at again. Then the male poked at Hassan. The touch of the bony dagger-like claw was enough for the boy to empty his bladder. The urine splashed over his shoes, steaming slightly in the cold air. The scent was strong with the lad’s fear. He wanted to save this kid, so badly. But he knew… hell, he had no idea how, but he just knew the boy was half to Death’s clutches already. He might not be strong enough to tug him away from her. Riddick tightened his grip. That didn’t mean he wouldn’t try. If the pilgrim listened to his advice then maybe he’d make it out of this. His voice would have scared hardened criminals into behaving. Unfortunately, Hassan was already too far gone into his panic to listen to the words, “Just. Don’t. Run.”

The other male hammerhead began copying its peer, making the encounter a battle of sheer will as razor sharp talons moved over the two like surgical instruments, poking at first, then making experimental slicing motions. With the two males touching the female decided that she too would touch. Richard diverted her with the carcass which she snatched greedily from his hand. But the immature males are harder to make stop. Once the poking got no additional reaction and the light scratching made little progress, they deepen the slicing motions. One cut formed a hole in Riddick’s shirt, on the left side, just deep enough to sting but not enough to bleed freely.

Off in the distance Imam’s voice hissed, “Someone is missing.” This made the other survivors do a head count. The holy man called out, “Where is Hassan?” The lad was too frozen with fear to respond. Perhaps it’s the wisest thing he’d done since he wandered away. The commotion led to Abu shouting, with rising panic, “Have you seen Hassan?”

“Imam?” Fry some how got his attention and took charge acting like the captain that these folks needed her to be, “Calm down, you aren’t helping here,” Carolyn cautioned. “No, don’t wander away, too.” Those in the light made a quick scan with their handlights to see if the missing lad was nearby. They don’t see him. Of course they don’t. He has got the stupid shit with him. What Richard needs right now is the Doctor’s sonic thingie. He’s sure his handlight won’t drive these three off. One maybe. Three no. Finally she called out, “Riddick? Do you have Hassan with you?”

The con wanted to protect the boy, really he did. He wasn’t sure how, was all. Hassan had his own ideas. Ideas about how a man should act and how he wanted to be the brave one. But being brave meant knowing when to step back and when to fight. Hassan didn’t have a clue about that side of bravery. Currently he was seconds away from doing something very stupid. Richard wasn’t sure he’d be able to stop him. The ex-ranger raised his handlight, hoping he could force the boy to the floor if the lad made a break for it.

Only after he had some sort of plan did he call back to her, “Yes.”

“Hassan, stay there! Don’t move.” Fry ordered. “The Doctor is coming toward you, Richard.”

“No! Stay. By. The. Wall.”

The Doctor said, “Are you sure?”

“Three. Here. More. Maybe?”

This made the Time Lord swear. If he understood what Amadak was telling him then there were three possible adults in here, that the other man knew of. The odds were that neither of them would make it. If he headed that way then none of them might come back. In fact it would doom all the others to death too. So he made the choice to stay where he was, just in case there were more of the natives here. He knew though that Death would take at least one of them. Was it awful of him that he hoped it wouldn’t be his bonded? The Doctor closed his eyes. “OK. I’m staying with the light.”

Richard relaxed slightly at that. Last thing he wanted was for the alien fellow to get killed here. The others might survive this without his guidance, but getting to the Doctor’s box without the Doctor was sorta pointless. That taken care of he turned his attention back to Hassan and noticed just in time that the Hammerheads were reaching for the lad again, this time reaching for his face. They’d already cut on his clothes, leaving deep slashes in it. The fact that they scented his fear meant they kept coming back to him and ignoring the one that had no reaction to them at all. With as deep as the cuts were getting, the ex-ranger had a feeling that the next one was going to cause serious harm.

If it did he’d not be able to keep Hassan from fleeing. The touch of the blade-like claw against the boy’s suntanned cheek started out light, but then it pressed in and the skin gave way like overripe fruit under a knife. This is the only skin the lad has exposed at all, aside from his hands. Richard watches it out of the corner of his eye, shaken by how Time seems to slow around him. The talon slowly stroked through that skin was cutting clean through his cheek and into the muscle, deeply. Deep enough to slice into the lad’s mouth even. Hassan hissed in pain as the blood welled up along the deep cut. The constant clicking the two creatures had been making suddenly stop.

Time snapped into fast forward, and Riddick could not force his perceptions to catch up with it. Everything suddenly happened fast, one moment the boy was there, the next he had twisted away out of Richard’s grip driven by blind flight responses coursing through his blood. “No!” Too late he lunged for Hassan, trying to catch the kid by his clothing. If he could just drag him to the floor then maybe the boy would live. But he missed. His fingers barely touch the flowing cloth as the lad sprints away.

Somehow he managed to not fall on his face, ending in a crouch instead. The first two hammerheads took off like blurs after Hassan’s retreating form, the female and the first male.But the second male was still there and turned its attention toward locating him. The ex-ranger froze again. It sent a wave of clicks over his location and lowered itself to the floor. Richard considered a moment if he could kill it. Maybe. If he were very lucky. Better bet would be to get back to the others. His light. Could he use his light?

He aims the thing at the Hammerhead, closes his eyes tightly and flicks it on. The creature retreated with a squeal. A horrible scream pierced the darkness and sound of rain. Hassan’s death scream. Time to get the fuck out of here. Richard decided he would make a break for it. He couldn’t wait for the other two to come back. Turning off the light, he dove for the end of the shelving unit and sprinted toward the others.

Behind him the second male was enraged. Its definitely behind him, once more dropping to the floor, clicking like crazy, trying to keep him in sight. He heard it following, down low, unable to get its wings fully spread. He was not thinking, at the moment, just reacting. He rounded the next corner knowing the wall was just at the end of this shelving unit. What he didn’t know was that the group had moved along the wall and that whoever it was on the spotlight noticed his silver eyes in the darkness.

Suddenly there was light. Bright overwhelming light. The spotlight. It cut into his brain like a laser. ‘God the pain!’ Riddick screamed in spite of himself, diving for the floor. The bioraptor behind him echoed the sound with a howl and swerved up into the ceiling struts. The shotgun went off over his head. More than once. Stunned on the floor, Riddick did not move. He could feel the cool of the Doctor step up besides Johns and put a hand over the man’s trigger finger to keep him from firing off yet again.

“Stop it, stop it, STOP IT!” Carolyn screamed at the marshal.

The blue-eyed-devil blinked at her, “’Sokay, ‘sokay. I killed it.” He was totally oblivious to the cool hand over his and the incredulous stares that everyone but Riddick was giving him. But even the con jumped when the carcass of the predator that had been chasing him landed hard on the floor next to where he was flattened out, as it sent him into a fast crouching twist that ended up with his back to the wall and his shiv out.

The carcass had landed point on in the headlight beam of the makeshift spot, and was smoldering, smoking, bursting into blisters, and charring as they watch. “Look’ it!” Jack said pointing. This made all of them, but for the Doctor who had moved to Richard’s side and was touching his shoulder, lean forward to watch the carcass burn in the light.

“Like the light is scalding it,” Ogilvie said in wonder.

Simon added, “Interesting, severe photo-reaction. Light actually causes physical harm.”

Fry forgot her anger at Johns as she stared at the decaying flesh, “It hurts them. Not just phobic.”

On the other side of the room the other two adolescent hammerheads began loudly fighting, likely over the remains of the pilgrim. Imam blinked rapidly, “Is that – Hassan?” River took the holy man’s hand as the Doctor helped Riddick to his feet. The ex-ranger nodded in answer.

“We’ll burn a candle for him later. C’mon,” said Johns, tugging the spotlight along to keep any others that might think of trying anything far, far away from them. Everyone is in such shock that they don’t react to the callous way the marshal treated what had just happened.

0o0o0o0o0o0o0

They bypassed the main room for the safety of one of the still sealed lower ceiling storage rooms. The idea was to take a moment in safety to gather their wits, confirm that no one else was going to pull a stunt like the middle pilgrim pulled, and eat something, if they can. The first thing the Doctor does is address the issue of them all being wet clean though to the bone. He uses his sonic device to create enough heat in a pile of papers placed into a thick crate to start them on fire. The room has plenty of stored papers for them to keep feeding the flames. He made each of them allow him to sonic them dry.

Jack was more than grateful. He’d been shaking, wet through to the bone. It was not fear, but cold that was the problem. Once the Doctor had dried him off he turned his attention to trying to comfort his friend who had just lost his older brother. Ali barely stood long enough for the Doctor to get him dry, not caring one way or the other in his grief. Once the pale man let go of him, he slumped against Jack’s shoulder, sobbing. Jack had never had a sibling so this extensive sorrow was foreign to him. But he cared deeply for Ali and would try to provide him with something, some support, if nothing else.

The Doctor turned his attention to River and Simon, then Suleiman. Ogilvie insisted that he be dried off next, citing his age. While this made the Doctor glower at the stupid ape he went ahead and used the sonic screwdriver to dry him. The other men insisted that Fry be dried next then Imam. And Richard and William pointed to each other when it came down to the last two. The Doctor growled at Johns, “Get your ass over here, marshal.” This was enough to make the redhead behave. After getting the ex-ranger and himself the Doctor then turned to making them eat.

“We got the cable made up into a ladder, so there’s a way down. O’course tyin’ it off means we lose it. Same with the headlight. I can’t see any way of using it to cover our climb down and still have it with us. And I don’t know how to lower it down. We don’t have enough cable to do both the ladder and the spotlight.” Carolyn was pacing as she talked.

Abu watched her goback and forth for a moment, “Please, try to eat something.”

She nodded and accepted some dried fruit and freeze-dried nuts. A moment later she was handed a hot mug of something that smells like hot coca. The Doctor then made cups for each of the others, although he preferred tea for himself and Riddick requested it instead of the coca. Ali sniffled a little and managed to blink his tears away because of the warm rich liquid. “I promise, Ali, that I will do every thing I can to make sure as many people as possible survive this. But you must do as you are told.” The boy nodded at the Time Lord quite seriously. “That’s a boy. Go on, drink up before it gets cold.”

“Thanks Doctor,” Jack said and was happy for the beaming grin he got back in return. Once he was done, and he even included Johns, the Time Lord sat down for a bit. River moved to his side and tucked herself into him. Her actions were just as much for him as they were for herself. She knew he’d seen Hassan death there, and that he’d tried everything he could to prevent it. The failure weighed heavy on his soul.

The marshal finished his drink and his food hoping that it would push away his tremors. His eyes were starting to water. His nose was running. He felt aches in his muscles, and he was hot and cold in alternate flashes. His entire body was telling him he needed another hit. He might not get another chance between here and the ship. He swallowed and moved over behind some furniture. He knew he wouldn’t make it without a hit. These folks were just going to have to live with that. It felt like he was stripping himself naked and jerking off in front of people, even though he was not. He decided to not think about it. He prepared his needle with a capsule and then blinked at Simon who was kneeling down right next to him. “You are far to shaky to that safely. Let me clean the needle.” He was not sure why but he let the Tam boy take the hypo out of his hand and clean it. Then he watched, mesmerized, as the elegant hands expertly raised a vein and gave him the shot. He closed his eyes. “Where do you normally shoot up, Mr Johns?”

“Eye duct.”

Simon made a face at that finding it highly disturbing that anyone would risk their eyesight in such a manner, “I’m surprised you can still see.” He turned his attention to cleaning the man’s needle as completely as possible. The fellow is going to end up getting an infection if he isn’t very, very careful. “I’ve got several anti-morphine drugs in my bag that could be used to ease you off the addiction, providing we survive.” He knew it was more than likely that the marshal will turn him down again, but he could not let the man toss aside his life like this when he could fix the injury he was taking the morphine for.

William frowned, “You offering to help me, again?”

“Yes.” Simon sighs. The Doctor had hinted that he had access to advanced medical tools that could be used to repair Johns’ back and frankly, he really wantedto take a crack at fixing it. “I’d like to take a look at your old injury. I’m a trauma surgeon not a spinal specialist, but highly trained and the top of my class. I might be able to remove the rest of the fragment.”

“Why? Why do you keep offering to help me?”

“I’m a doctor. That’s what doctors do,” the redhead stared at him. Simon put a hand on the man’s forehead and estimated how the drug was going through his system. He finally said, “I’ve only got one condition: keep your promise and let Riddick go free.”

Johns blinked. That was what he’d been waiting for. The ‘how much is it worth to you to be fixed’ bit. Could he let Riddick go? “I’ll let you know.” Simon closed his bag and nodded, moving away to let the man ride out his high. Once he mellowed out Johns reloaded his shotgun and put one red shell in his chest harness.

Carolyn peeked around the edge of the stack he was hiding behind, “Ready, Johns?” She was holding his glow-vest-thing. He took a deep breath and nods.

But once he got close to her he said, “He’ll lead you over the first drop off. You know that, don’t you?”

She shook her head; “We’ve been over this. He says he tried to save Hassan. He’s not lied before. Just give it a rest, huh?”

“He’s gonna pick y’all off one at a time, strand you into situations you can’t get out of. And you’re playing right into his game. Why don’t you get that?”

Carolyn sighed, “We’re just burnin’ light here.”

The marshal stared at her, “He will leave you. He will leave you all out there to die.”

“I don’t get it, Johns. What is so goddamn valuable in your life that you’re worried about losing? Huh?” she leaned in and looked at him, “Is there anything at all that you care about besides dragging him back to slam? Anything that makes this worth surviving, besides your next hype?” Johns looked away but said nothing, “Got no right to be so scared. Neither one of us. We’re both responsible for these people, one way or another. So you can decide to help us get off this rock and make up for the bad choices you’ve made, or you can die trying.”

“Thought you’d be pissed with me Fry.”

She smiled, “Don’t let the calm fool you, Johns. I am pissed with you, but survival comes first.” She stepped away, leaving him with the vest. The others were sounding like they were making to leave. He brooded, grabbed his fiber optic top, struggled into it and began coiling up the lead. The others were waiting for him. He saw that the spotlight was hoisted up to light the way down and that the ladder was ready. Everyone was spaced out and prepared to do this.

“I’ll go first,” The Doctor announced. “I’ll keep the sonic pulse going until we are all down.”

Riddick was next in line, “I figure this way, Johns, you don’t have to worry about me cutting the cable. I’ll follow the Doctor. Remember we have to stay 3 steps apart, but no more than that or the light will go out.”

“Ali, ready?” The boy nodded. “Jack? Paris?” They nodded too. “Keep the light going. That’s all we have to do to live through this. Just keep your light burning,” Carolyn finished up.

The Doctor stepped on to the ladder, “One, Two, Three,” he called as he went down. Riddick stepped on and the count continues, “Four, Five, Six.” Ali started his climb down and after three beats Imam joined them. Three beats later Jack got on, and was followed by River after a count of three. Simon got on after that, then Paris. The last three were Suleiman, Carolyn, and William to the count of thirty-three. They didn’t stop moving on the count until Johns was off the ladder.

In spite being down with thirty skeletons in a core-shaft, things were looking slightly brighter. They have made it this far and have only lost one person. And it was dry down here for the most part. They decide to use Paris’s lamps for the moment, and to save the battery power on the hand lights. Only Riddick and the Doctor decline them, leaving Paris with one extra. “Ok, the Doctor and I will take the lead again,” Riddick said taking his fiber optic shirt back. The majority of the light was safely on the back of it, so he can see. “Keep less than ten paces, try to not stray too far out to the sides. We don’t know what might be down here, or what the ground might do. If it looks wet don’t step into it. Might suck you straight down. If you have any scrapes, let Doc Tam here hit you with the Derma-heal. These bad-boys know our blood now.”

Jack chewed on his lower lip.

From Simon’s healer’s bag replacement spears made their appearance. “These all have rounded shafts and River made grips. They should work as walking sticks as well as weapons. Those of us on the outer edge should use one.” He passed them out as he checked everyone over for cuts.

Carolyn walked up to Richard, “You know, someone should look outfor Jack if we make it.”

“Not me. Nobody’s gonna turn a murderer loose. I fuckin’ knew better.” He looked over at Johns.

She frowned, “I told you, I made that deal, I intend –”

His silver eyes got a look in them that she’s never seen on his face before, one that was soft and awestruck, “Been a long time since anyone’s trusted me, Carolyn. That’s somethin’ right there.”

She gave him a slight smile; “We can, can’t we? Trust you?”

His face morphed into a humorous smirk, “Actually… That’s what I been askin’ myself.” Rich walked back over to the Doctor leaving Fry wondering again who exactly the bad guy was here.

They took on the formation of a thin ten-legged, glowing spider with very large feet. Jack once again was in the middle. Imam walked in front of the children, with Ali on one side and River on the other. Suleiman and Simon walked behind them, flanking Jack. Carolyn and Paris followed them with Johns taking rear guard. The Doctor and Riddick were walking side by side, both very alert as they lead the others into the first passage, following the pull of the TARDIS key.

Their light managed to illuminate a totally alien cave-scape, filled with circular spouts of water from above, oddly formed chambers, worn into curved shapes by countless generations of bioraptors inhabiting them. There were weird sloping pillars, many of which ran miniature rivers from the rain above them, and tracks along the walls for the water to flow, occasionally the trickle would disappear only to start back up once they passed the next pillar or downspout.

The hammerheads were not in evidence, as of yet. Perhaps it was the light that drove them off, concentrated as it was by the yellowed walls. Perhaps it was the fact that the locals didn’t expect this tactic. But whatever the reason they had a clear route until they peek from a cave alongside the canyon and realize that something was causing the hammerheads to track them from above, following their progress like a pack of hyenas. Riddick pulled a large piece of bone into the opening to keep the creatures from coming in behind them and they backtracked slightly to take a route that diverged from the pull of the key.

A/N: This chapter features some added hints as to the eventual direction that River’s healing will take her. It’s complicated and interwoven with her eventual role in later stories. She is well aware of the sexual overtones but neither her nor the Doctor intend to go that way any time soon. (Yes, she might end up being River Song, in a regeneration or thirteen. ). Also this chapter starts the mad dash to Verity.

Motility

He was used to being in motion. Never stopping. Never looking back. Always moving, forward like an obsession. He knew that someday it would catch up to him. His past, so very painful in so many ways, had to. Now it seemed as though someone or something had realized the fact that he spent all his time running and had decided for him to make him stop, to make him face his past, starting with the remainder of his beloved grand-daughter, Susan. That was, her descendants. He’d come to terms with the fact that she had in fact set down roots and created a triple trunked tree through time in the form of her sons with David. And she had passed on to them the same mutations he carried still. Her genes seeded humanity with the mutation he gained from it. The entire works smacked of a paradox, one that stated he was his own distant (like fifty-great grand, or something) ancestor. Made his head ache to think of it. And yet… it was so obscure and so big, that he doubted anyone ever would have noticed it happening. Hell he wasn’t even sure of it.

The outcome of the skiff burning, thanks to William J. Johns and his flashbacks, was that he was even more stuck and more stationary then he’d been before. The simple fact was they were all in grave danger. He hated being locked away from his ship. He despised being cooped up in this too small space because of darkness. And he hated that there were moments when he wanted to just march out into the downpour, alone, and get back to space and time. He’d never left people in such danger when he might save a few, however. Just because he was responsible for the end of the Time War didn’t mean he could afford to start that behavior now. So he stayed.

The entire sense that over took them all was one of mixed expectation and resigned fear. Humans could drive him mad with how simple and reactive they could be sometimes. Making the sort of run they would be forced to endure would require them being well fed, rested, and healthy. Not that any of the others paid much attention to this unless he held their hands. The Doctor found himself forcing people to eat, to sleep, to make preparations that in some cases they didn’t want to do. This meant going in and lying down to force the others to sleep, cooking to make them eat, driving some of them like a slave master at times to make them work, and trying to not lose his temper or his hormonal control in the process. Both of which were proving to be harder tasks than he ever imagined they would be. Without Richard being there he would have had his hands around Johns’ throat within a day. With Richard there he’d be damn lucky to not turn and slam the man against whatever surface was convent at the time to ravage him… One relied on being defused. The other relied on self control and dread.

Paris and Johns both seemed to be the most difficult of individuals, often tossing back to him that it was his fault that they were caught here, that he could have told them what the box was and forced them to try harder to collect it long before this point. Paris he ignored. He didn’t give a flying fuck about the prissy little self-centered ape, and told the man as much. He wasn’t sure exactly why, but he didn’t like the fellow.

William, however, he kept coming back to. Most likely it was because Richard kept stepping in and defending the redhead, even when the man clearly didn’t need defending. Since the Doctor couldn’t find it in himself to be pissed off at the ex-ranger over his actions he kept trying to figure out what it was about the merc that Amadak thought was worth protecting. This led to him butting heads against the marshal even more often, all because if he was to have any hope of understanding his Bonded’s attachment to Johns he had to allow the fellow’s attitude to affect him. Which meant that most days it grated against his raw ire until he nearly exploded in ways that were most un-Time Lord like.

Honestly, if Richard hadn’t been there to run interference he would have killed the shit in the most slow, painful, agonizing way he could think of (and he had a rather strong imagination along those lines this time around too), just because. He supposed that it was his fault that he didn’t just stop caring. Not paying the fellow any attention would have effectively defused the entire situation from the start. Only.. the Ape was not a stupid one and he could see that the man had such great potential if he only applied himself in the proper direction. He wasn’t an evil man, just a very annoying one.

Johns might have been high most of the time, but that didn’t mean he couldn’t see the fact that he was needling the pale gent or that Richard seemed to exert some control over the fellow. And that galled the Doctor too. It was none of the merc’s business if he listened to the ex-ranger or not, or what they might get up to while the others slept, or not, for that matter. The long term closed quarters and enforced abstinence from his ship made him very short tempered. And Johns knew which buttons to press. Once he found one he would press it over and over until he got a reaction then act befuddled until the anger blew over then proceed to repeat his action.

Richard attempted, once or twice, to talk some reason into the stubborn redhead about what he was doing, trying to make him understand that this was not a game and that the Doctor was not someone to piss off if one wanted to live though the coming gauntlet. Considering that it was the merc’s stupid jumping the gun on the Skiff that ended them up in this mess it was remarkable that the pale inhuman male had not just pounded Johns into the floor already. But Billy was damn determined to be Billy, and would not listen.

It was then all that Richard could do to keep the Doctor off the merc’s throat and he found himself trying anything he could think of to keep the other man distracted from what Johns was doing. This involved a lot of conversations that bordered on flirts, the heavy use of Doc/Bob lines, the unexpected appearance of tea, touches in perhaps innocent fashion thatdidn’t feel so innocent at all, and much standing guard and glowering at Billy to keep him away when the Doctor was just about ready to snap and hadn’t managed to keep a grip on his temper. The actions he was taking didn’t fail to be seen however. Carolyn, Simon, and Abu all attempted to assist.

Young Doc Tam also tried to run interference, going so far as to offer the merc help not only for the morphine addiction but for the flashbacks as well. The subject of flashbacks proved to be a mite touchy though. Although Simon had a point telling Johns that the flashbacks responsible for his actions with the skiff were triggered by the rain the merc refused to listen. He likely knew already that the morphine had no small part in it too. And Johns also was aware that he was not helping himself by clinging to his addiction when there was help being offered. But again he rebuffed Simon’s offer.

Most of the others tried to stay out of the way. Fry was the exception, going the completely opposite direction, reaming Johns in the Doctor’s stead, verbally lashing the man until he sulked away, feeling like a beaten puppy. And if it occurred to any of them that perhaps it was this attention that Johns was after in the first place they might have avoided all the tension altogether. Only Bill refused to come out and be civil and ask Carolyn to spend some time with him, instead being a juvenile ass about the entire thing and thinking that the only attention he was ever going to get was the negative sort.

When Johns thought about it all he realized he was being stupid. In those few dim moments of clarity he realized that if he wanted Fry he’d have to shape his act up and become a decent person. He’d swear that this day would be different. He’d change. And then – he wouldn’t. But it was his anger that made him keep on. Because if he was going to have to die, morphine was a far more pleasant way to go. Damn it all, every gorram time he considered the easy route out of this he remembered that smiling image of Carolyn and all those kids on that dusty planet, and couldn’t force himself to do it. He wanted that life, or a chance at it, but had not idea about how to get from where he was to where he desperately wanted to be.

The priest was ignored by Johns, although the Doctor did let the man know that the attempts were something he was grateful for. Imam then switched his attempts from Johns directly to acting to alert the Doctor when Johns was heading his way and trying to provide the man with an escape route when possible. Aside from this, Imam and the pilgrims spent much time searching their hearts and their faith for answers that seemed to elude them. Ali alone felt as though there was nothing to lose by the attempt, but then, he’d been snatched from the claws of death and has no idea that she was still hovering over them, waiting for some careless mistake to take advantage of.

River focused on sewing. She did not look at the strands of time, avoiding what she knew hovered on the edge of her awareness. She helped the Doctor with maths, block transfer equations, while he was working on them, sometimes holding one strand of the shimmering line while he wove the rest of the new space around it, sometimes building the space herself while he kept track of the various lines and made sure nothing unraveled in the process.

She continued to climb into the Doctor’s bed when they rested. This was nightly now. If this bothered her brother he chose to say nothing. If it bothered Richard, he kept it to himself choosing instead to include her in his protective sphere. She knew there were times it bothered the Doctor himself, times when his body or hers reacted to something that neither of them could control. But she would not deny that she needed him to help her, to hold her mind away from the anger and the tension that the others felt. It was easier on them both when they were in physical contact. Being in his bed eased the strain of his filtering her perceptions for him. It was the one time of the day that she knew he was not in pain from his effort to help her. And since it helped him, she was not going to stop doing it.

It was the night before they were to leave, and she was curled up against him, his cool body still a balm to her, even though the temperature was no longer so hot as it once was. She was wearing a sleeping gown. Like most nights he wore a tee and long pajama bottoms. One of his arms was under her, curled around her back. A slight shift down and she’d be tucked under his arm. Some nights that bothered him more than other nights. This night he smelled slightly more spicy then normal. She decided that she quite liked it.

There had never been a point where she felt strange with her need to touch him. To hold him. Right now she was pressed in as close to him as she could get, one leg extended the length of his, her toes pointed so the even the top of her foot rested against him. Her arms were hugging him, and she felt no concern over his slight weight cutting off circulation. He was a big man, but thin enough, built to run, and fairly light as those things went. Normally he laid flat on his back, still and relaxed. She wiggled slightly and let her leg bend over him. There were places where her body became so hot that it was uncomfortable. The cool of his leg seemed to soak that warmth away, leaving tingles behind.

She heard him sigh slightly. This bordered on the edge of what they knew was tolerated. There were times when errant thoughts flitted through her brain and she wondered what it would be like to have him touch her there. She usually tried to clamp down on those thoughts. Then there were the whispers that sometimes tickled her, and she knew he was thinking about Richard the same way. Her cheeks flamed and she buried her face into his side. The musical flow of his mind started then, distracting her from the wayward fantasies for now. Although this night the lesson he was teaching her was related to how she was feeling. She knew that it wasn’t exactly sleep she was doing now, but rather something else, like some form of super fast learning, mind to mind, while the body was at repose. The concepts of Bonding, the theory and the hormonal needs behind it, the changes she was feeling in her body, how she was reacting to his pheromones, his short temper, all of it became part of the lesson for the night. He tried to make it clinical, teaching her biology, archeology, ancient history, chemistry, among other things. None of it lessened how she was reacting to him. Not even his telling her that she was on the brink of forging psychic ties with him that would never break.

Part of her wanted that so bad that she ached for it. There were so many reasons she wanted it too. Not just physical ones. Maybe not physical ones at all. So many mental reasons. He protected her mind. He taught her. He guided her and uplifted her. He accepted that she was not human but still saw her a normal, no matter how broken she was. And she loved him. Had done since his very first smile. The Doctor was so smart and had libraries of information stored in his brain. This was what he shared with her while the others slept. He was what she needed to heal, the only one that could. And some small part of him needed her desperately.

Normally he did not shift his body in rest. But now he turned to face her, wrapping his arms around her small form and pulling her close, tucking her under his chin, his legs tangling in hers. She was young, so young. And damaged so horribly that he wanted to weep. But she was as close to someone of his race he was likely to ever find and sometimes it all was too much when she expressed such complete total devotion to him. Her body stayed relaxed even as her mind carefully questioned his movement. His mind was open before her the power of his aura swirling about on the edges of it, but the actual mental landscape exposed below her. All that he was. She could be part of it. Forever. This was someplace that Simon could not, would not, ever follow. Already she was his Tyro. Now he offered her – more. So much more. She was young, yes. But she was also so very old. His mind called to hers and it felt so right to be here. The filtering would be easier for Verity if they connected in this way. Her physical presence would become and remain totally natural. She skimmed over his mind, locating the taunt connection to his Amadak and spreading herself over it for a moment.

Awareness of something cold and hard against her hip intruded into her mind, her body telling her that this mental touch caused a definite physical reaction that was sudden to the extreme. She eased back slightly, only to find his large hands on her bum gently urging her back against him and her heat needing the cool of him to ease it away. She opened her eyes and tilted her head to look up at his face. His intense gaze focused on her, his eyes deeply colored with the emotions he didn’t often show. There was no intention on his part of this going any farther. He just needed her to not be scared and she wasn’t. She nuzzled into him and opened her own mind, spreading out across his like a sheen of water. He soaked her in, dry for her moisture. That his body wanted more was something he could ignore. That her body understood and responded was all good and well, but her mind was not ready for what her body might someday want, and they both knew it. She wanted to be held, to feel the stirrings of her flesh but not feel pressured to act on it. As long as she was not scared of his echoing reaction he could give her all the time she needed. Their minds flowed back into teacher and student, focused on what the biology and chemistry of this new experience was and she allowed herself to feel it and understand it.

Rain-filled, cold, dark days had passed. Various tasks completed now, ranging from glowing clothes, to the best weapons they could find or make, from packing rations for the trip and selecting lights to saying their prayers and mustering up their courage… The Time was at hand. It was as if they all woke up mutually determined that this day would be the day they would attempt to reach the Doctor’s ship, or die so that the others could. They ate, they used the facilities, they washed carefully and made sure there were no exposed injuries. It was all rather calm and meditative, becoming more surreal the closer they got to the deadline, to the point of no return…

River brought out the carefully constructed glowing items, each with plenty of lead. The optic cables were attached to the generator, and it with a spare battery, was placed into Jack’s backpack. The boy watched it all, focused on River, Simon, and the Doctor as they helped each of the others into their outerwear. Golden light flickered over some of them, but River’s was tainted with a horrible sludge. It wasn’t death, but something else. Something scary. He blinked and the almost living dark energy was gone. But he knew what he’d seen and was frightened by it. Around him others were making the final selections of lights, weapons, gear, rations and water. He had his pack, a glowing sweater that fit over a coat that might keep him a bit dry, a spear, and his cap. In addition to the light generator he and Ali had been able to salvage their favorite toys, picking just a couple and telling themselves that they were doing it so that the original owners would leave this hellhole with them, in spirit at least.

Each of them figured out some way to rig a bag with gear, adding extra light to them, even if it meant poking holes and stringing LED bulbs, but none took it as far as the art dealer did. Paris looked like a Christmas Tree. He’d added LED bulbs to his hat and his bag. The fiber optics sewn into his sweater hadn’t been enough to reassure him, so he carried additional LED’s strung around his breather. He was downright colorful. Most of the rest of them figured the fiber optics and a hand lamp was enough. Johns had almost gone the opposite way, nearly refusing the glowing top or the use of salvaged bulbs on his pack. But then he looked at the others and noticed that every one of them was using the fiber optics, even the Doctor, who had woven a loose vest to slip on over his leather coat. In the end, the merc put on the garish glowing outerwear.

They would have indulged in one final meal, only none of them wanted to delay. If anything they all felt a sense that they needed to do it now or not try it at all. So now it would be. The last of the overhead lights those around the eating area where they spent most of their time getting ready came down. The kid, Jack, needed to be in the middle of the group, as they were all connected to the pack he wore. Each of them had plenty of lead, coiled around arms, wrapped around bodies, or what have you. Riddick and the Doctor were up front, Ali and Jack were in the middle, and the rest of them formed a barrier around the children. Johns choose the back; Paris would likely end up falling behind and into a rear position although currently he was near the side. “Let’s stay together. We all have light, food, and water. It’s not far, for our first goal. To the Coring Room,” Carolyn rallied.

The inner doors were opened just enough to slip through. “How’s it look?” Johns asked from the back.

Clear? Maybe. There were rents in the main door, water pooling on the floor, Riddick put up a hand and scanned the darkness. “Looks clear,” he murmured, unsure. He glanced over at the Time Lord. The Doctor put up a short burst of noise from his gadget and flushed out a small flock of razor winged hatchlings that swooped through the inner doors with an eerie clicking screech.

Behind him the entire group, sans Johns, ducked out of the way as the squealing mass swooped past them on it’s way to roost in the rafters. Spears clattered away from them as Johns fired off the shotgun into the mass before dodging out of the way, “Fuck! Thought you said, ‘clear’!”

“Said, ‘Looks clear,’ — actually.” Richard replied.

Fry cut in; “Can we just get the door open?” She paused to flip on the spotlight on wheels that had been constructed with the converter, a power cell and the skiff’s headlights. Outside the hammerheads wailed in protest at the return of the hated fire as the light filtered through the slashed door.

The con hit the switch and the spring released the latch. Then he stepped up to the door and gave it a mighty shove sending it up into the overhead track. Outside the rain was coming down in sheets. “I hope the spotlight doesn’t short out,” said Paris.

“The connections are covered. It should be fine.” Carolyn reassured, “Come on, we’re just burning light here and the creatures are already behind us so there’s no going back now.”

Imam said, “Remember, stay together. Keep your lead short enough so that it does not tangle. Together we can survive this. God will see us through.” And with that they set off into the wet maze of the settlement heading for the coring room.

River found herself between brown and white, Jack and Simon. Her mind was tightly muffled, thanks to both her brother and the Doctor. While she was aware of the creatures and the emotions of the others running strong she didn’t experience them in such a way that they drove her. Greenish copper, Hassan, walked in front of her, rather pushing toward the more metallic earth, Rich. He seemed unafraid, excited and hyper alert perhaps, but not scared. Fear would serve him better. Just behind her was ruddy bright orange, Paris, attempting to gain more safety by staying within the glow cast by others as if he had no light of his own. He had fear plenty. More than enough for everyone, not that it would do him any good if it turned into panic. The art dealer’s lead ran through her and Simon. The Doctor had insisted that if something threatened the light, they were to do whatever was necessary to keep the others safe. She tried not to think about what that request meant.

On the other side of the dirt brown was more emerald green, Ali. The boy was pissing scared; his colors pulsing and near neon bright. It was like he was trying to make his aura visible in an effort to gain more protection. He wouldn’t panic though, not with his older brothers there to make him look the fool if he did. The jade green of Suleiman walked behind and to the outer edge, between the boys and the smoky bluish soot of the docking pilot. In front of Carolyn were the tropical sky tones of Imam, who walked next to Hassan, trying to get the boy to hold back. And behind them all was Red. The marshal made her skin crawl, like her physical body wanted to get away from him in layers that she cannot control totally. The buildings herewere skeletons, the siding being stripped away, posts and beams that reached into the inky, rainy sky. She could see them because the metal floors reflected the faint light differently than the wet mud they were splashing through as they walked, not quite in time with one another but very careful to maintain the spacing between them. Just on the edge of their mass glow the shadows moved, frothing in sheer numbers of predators that waited for any misstep. She’d put on long cargo style pants and a heavier sweater under the glowing one, but the rain and the chill made her shiver.

She felt a small hand grab her own. The green eyes belonging to Jack met hers as she glanced that way and smiled at the child. River curled her hand tighter around the smaller one as she tried to give the youth enough strength to keep going. They were both wet and chilled to the bone already. The group passed this way and that way, turning seemingly at random to go down muddy lanes that had been stripped of crates. After what might have been an hour or five minutes the buildings started to look more like buildings, and less like metal bones. Ahead of them Riddick held up a hand. There was a wall of sound, wails and clicks and bones smashing against each other up ahead of them. The pause lengthened before he motioned them into one of the more complete buildings. Together they pushed through the door, light filling the smallish room. “There’s a massive monster fight going on in the lane ahead of us,” Rich relayed. “I don’t think the Doctor’s sonic thing-a-bob is going to do more than rile them up. We need another way through. Perhaps between building walls?”

“You mean cut a path?” Fry asked.

“Either that or make a mass run for it, in hope that we scatter them and that they don’t attack us.”

“Well, I vote for burn,” Paris piped up. “How many buildings away are we?”

The Doctor said, “Five.” He had been short tempered for almost a week, and not even Richard could ease him anymore. But soon he’d be back with his ship and things would almost go back to some sort of normal. Only he had no idea what normal was, having never really had any before.

That’s twelve or so cuts, but better than making a long run and hoping that they don’t slip in the mud. Slowly everyone came to the same conclusion. Fry handed over the torch from her bag. Riddick slipped out of his fiber optic top and tucked it into Jack’s pack. “Here’s the plan, We’ll cut a hole, I’ll go through and scan ahead, then the Doctor will come through and give ‘em a burst of noise. If the room is clear then you will come through. Guard each other’s leads, and don’t separate.” They trust his judgment and his skill. Even Red, River noticed. The merc didn’t protest the plan and offered to do the cutting. He handed his gun to Fry, who handed the spotlight off to Imam.

The first cut opened into sheeting rain. Although the next wall was just fifteencentimeters past that, they were nearly overwhelmed by the increase in the howling eerie noise and fighting that they heard echoing through the wet night. The metal removed from the wall was turned and bent before being hoisted up above head level and being allowed to spring back open, wedging itself into a cover that Johns stood under while making the opening. He was bathed in bright illumination from the headlight lamp as he made the next cut. As the merc stepped back into the room to allow Riddick through, he slipped off his own fiber optic top and handed it to Hassan with the request that it be tucked into Jack’s pack. He then turned off the torch, switching the tool back for his gun. Fry motioned to Imam to keep the spotlight for the time being.

Moving from one building to another happened after Riddick and the Doctor ensured that there was a measure of safety. The next space was long and narrow, with their entry being someplace near the middle. There were a series of doors along the far wall; perhaps this was the office for the bulk of the geologists? Pausing, the group studied the situation. They needed to go across this building to get to their goal, but something was not completely safe here. They feel it in their bones. The sound of rain pelting the metal roof drowns out most every other sound.

Off to the right there was a sudden metallic clatter. Nearly every light they have was turned that direction. A file cabinet had fallen, or was tipped over, papers and thin drawers making quite a mess on the far end of the floor. There was no sign of current movement however. Fry put a hand on one knob and found it locked, “Which way?”

“We should try to find an open door, save the torch for when we need it,” Imam prompted.

They began checking doors and moving toward the downed cabinet. A clicking screech from behind them froze the survivors in their tracks. Almost as a single unit they whipped their lights around the other way to find only more empty hall, but about halfway to the end of the building was a darkness that indicated an open door. They all looked at each other each thinking the same thing, ‘How the fuck could one get in here?’

“Could’ve come in through a window? I dunno,” said the docking pilot.

“Why don’t you check it out, Johns?” Riddick suggested.

The snapping wail repeated itself. It became rather clear that the majority of the group agreed with the con. They expected him to check it out. Paris finally said, “Come on, Johns. You got the big gun.”

The redhead countered, “I’d rather piss glass. Why don’t you fucking check?”

“He’s right, you know,” said Simon.

“Wanna rag your fat mouth?” Johns fired back as he turned on the Tam scion. From inside the open room there was the sound of metallic furniture being toppled and more screeching.

“Might be the only open door,” Riddick pointed out.

Johns clenched his jaw, took a hit on his breather, turned away from his raven-haired target, and slowly crossed the distance to the darkened doorway. He flattened his back against the wall and thrust his shotgun around the corner. The gun went off. Something inside the room squealed but the popping-filled keening stopped. Crouching low, the merc eased his head and light around the door and saw that there were blown-apart hatchlings on the floor, making a blue stain on the scattered papers from the toppled file cabinets. He let out a breath and pointed his gun up into the air. “Okay. We’re okay. Just some small ones that musta — ” he started to call back to the others. The thought was never finished, as something scythe-like made a fast and powerful swipe at his head. This drove him back and down. The swing and Johns’ surprise conspired to discharge his gun again. The blast illuminated something pale, with a huge tooth-filled mouth set under a bony ridge crest that gave them all the overall impression of a dagger-filled diamond. He half scampered and half crab-walked back to the group, “Find another door.”

As it happened, Olgivie found himself near the outer portal. His first and only thought was to put distance between himself and the huge monster that was in front of them, “Not staying in here another….” as he lunged for the lever on said door, intent on fleeing into the rain filled darkness beyond.

Fry grabbed his arm, spun him with his own momentum, and slammed him into the wall, “Christ, you don’t know what’s out there!”

“But I do know what’s in here!” he protested.

Meanwhile the Doctor had turned his sonic screwdriver to one of the inner doors and it clicked open. Riddick peeked in and gave a nod. The holy man said, “Everybody come, this way and we should be safe. Hurry, please….” Imam ushered them through into the smallish supply closet and once all twelve were inside he closed and relocked the door.

“Now we’re trapped in a much smaller space. I hate this!” Paris nearly screamed.

Fry and Johns switched torch for gun again. “Just hang on, Paris. We’re still moving. Calm down,” the blond said. Johns struggled to get the cutter lit, and a scratching started on the metal door before spreading to the surrounding wall. “Move the shelving!” Fry ordered as she started trying to block the door and wall. Rich, Simon, the Doctor, Hassan, Suleiman, and Imam all began helping her as Johns focused on cutting the far wall. River tried to keepJack and Ali out of the way while keeping the others from tangling up their leads. Paris cowered back with the two boys, perfectly content to hide behind River. They saw the predator’s scythe-like talons poking and working around the door jam, like it was trying to make perforations in the metal so that the door will give way. The sudden driving bonging blow to the door was strong enough to make the shelving slide against the floor. “Johns! Hurry!” Fry threw her weight into pushing the shelving back to buy them more time. Hassan and Suleiman copied her.

One wall gave way to the torch, revealing rain falling in large fast drops. It was like walking into a waterfall almost, the volume of rain that was pouring down was so great. Johns took a breath and prayed that the water wouldn’t make the torch cut out before calling, “Spot me?” Paris blinked, darted over to the abandoned device and aimed the spotlight at the marshal’s back. “Thanks.” The redhead set to work on the second wall. He kicked the hole open before he fully competed the cut. He reached back, grabbed the spotlight and pushed it through. There were no noises to indicate that the creatures were in this building. “Come on, let’s go!” Johns wheeled the spotlight along side himself as he rushed through what was a dorm. The marshal set the cutter to work on the next wall before the others were even all the way through.

River shepherded Jack and Ali with the art dealer right on her heels, through the downpour and into the next chamber. The others quickly followed as one of the shelves toppled from the banging, and the claws began ripping into the wall in earnest next to the door. Once again, the group muscled what ever they found, in this case a missed dresser, over the gap in the wall. It won’t hold for long. “Go, go!” Fry urged.

“Keep moving!”

The next three buildings passed in a rushed haze, Johns cutting constantly, the others trying to get enough of the gap blocked to buy time to get to the next room while keeping the children safe and in the middle of the group. It seemed, though; that no sooner than they would get one passage cut that the persistent hammerheads would get the gap behind them cleared.

But the next wall Johns opened lead to a large shelf filled room, with the shelves being ‘V’ shaped and containing long mineral core samples. “Hold!” Riddick called, to keep Johns from rushing forward to the next wall. They reached the Coring Room without being totally aware of it and were now in one of the storage rooms off of it. “Try to get that blocked up!” The spotlight didn’t illuminate this large chamber enough to ensure that they were alone here. With the roof being gone in the main room large predators might be roosting in the rafters. There were loads of small metal crates, weighed down with mineral samples, which could be stacked against the hole. The group began hastily doing just that, while the Doctor directed the redhead to tack them in place by altering the heat of the torch and handing him a spool of solder. But Johns gave him a blank look prompting Abu to take the torch and welding material from them and start doing as the Time Lord suggested.

“You can’t weld?” The Doctor asked William.

“I can. Just – I failed the test on it, is all.”

“So, you can’t weld.”

“Not that I trust, no,” the merc admitted.

]]> http://gmandystardis.wordpress.com/2009/04/11/doctor-who-and-the-great-eclipse-part-2634/feed/ 0 gm andy's tardis http://gmandystardis.wordpress.com/2009/04/10/threads-of-time-part-7/ http://gmandystardis.wordpress.com/2009/04/10/threads-of-time-part-7/#comments Fri, 10 Apr 2009 13:33:00 +0000 gm andy's tardis http://gmandystardis.wordpress.com/2009/04/10/threads-of-time-part-7/ ]]> A/N: Just cannot get the pic I want to work correctly.
So Old Pic. New Chapter. More about what is going on. Two and Nine meet.

Doctor Who and the Threads of Time
Part Seven: St. Albans Space Bazaar, Late October 2518.

Having gotten the annoying time line-crossing Time Lady to flee off to whatever meddling she was bound to be up to, the post-War Doctor marched into the room where he was to meet one William J. Johns. Johns was, still, a merc. In this case the fact that the ex-morphine addict had remained a merc, at least part time, proved to be to the Doctor’s advantage because the fellow was able to get his grubby paws on intel that other sources had not been able to turn up. What surprised ‘Jon Smythe’ was the fact that ex-docking pilot, Carolyn Fry, had stayed with Bill in the past few months since he’d left them on Helion Prime. He had little intention of hiding from them that he and Richard had been living here, in Blue Sun space, dating back to the very day that the Hunter-Gratzner set off from Persephone. Although explaining his current state might take some doing…

The redhead was not in immediate view, but the blond ex-docking pilot rushed up to him and hugged both he and Jacob before he could put up any sort of resistance. Although she hated cryo with a passion, she’d come this way, on her claim money, with Johns, because Alliance shipping had paid off her debts to the Company when she sued them for how the maintenance on her previous ship had been handled. The New Meccan courts had listened to her, Johns, Imam, and young Ali and given them a very nice settlement for wrongful deaths and other hardships. On top of this she won a disability suit claiming that she could no longer work a Ghost run after the crash. Johns promised that once they settled down they’d never go into cryo again. That was the only reason she’d been able to get into the sleeper tube to begin with this time.

]]> http://gmandystardis.wordpress.com/2009/04/10/threads-of-time-part-7/feed/ 0 gm andy's tardis http://gmandystardis.wordpress.com/2009/04/09/random-stuff-and-why-theres-no-chapter-of-anything/ http://gmandystardis.wordpress.com/2009/04/09/random-stuff-and-why-theres-no-chapter-of-anything/#comments Thu, 09 Apr 2009 19:29:00 +0000 gm andy's tardis http://gmandystardis.wordpress.com/2009/04/09/random-stuff-and-why-theres-no-chapter-of-anything/ ]]> Ok, ok… I know I’ve not posted nothin’

But I’ve been working on a long overdue instalment of “How the Doctor was Won” (that’s my First Doctor/TARDIS story) covering from Vicki joining up to when Ian and Barbara leave. I’ve managed to chop the scripts down from 158 pages to 130 and rewrite about 7-8 of them into story format. Slow going when the plot bunnies for other stuff keep bouncing into my head, although none of them there bunnies actually are providing anything useful.

Adult revision of chapter 26 of “Great Eclipse” is about half done and I could have finished it today but… I got caught up reading something instead *blushes*.

Chapter 7 of “Threads of Time” is nearly done just a bit of filling in and fleshing out should make it readable.

“All About” is on temporary hold until I get “Threads of Time” done if only because I need to work out how the changes that the Second Doctor’s decisions will have on Victoria when they collect her up.

Also chapter 27 of  “Tangled Web” is on the boards, with Mal and the crew finally wiggling out of the situation with the Alliance. I’m toying with the idea that the Parasite will be contained enough for there to be a few eps from Dr Who slipped into play, Particularly End of the World, through World War III, before going back to Firefly again. Thoughts?

Collusion

Almost everyone decided eventually to follow Carolyn’s example and try to rest. Johns was not quite asleep when they started to trickle in. Maybe it was the being inside yet another set of walls, behind another layer of doors and sharp spikes, bathed in light even though they want to sleep, that was the attraction. Maybe it was the need to stay together. Even the Doctor settled down into his cot, the third time anyone can recall him using it ever. Riddick made like he was sleeping, but he was really standing guard, without the standing part.

It was after the high that came down, and after a week more of things falling into a pattern, and his forgetting about his vision and his being in a bad mood because he can see Rich fucking flirting with the Doctor now in front of everyone and nobody gave a shit. It pissed him off, seeing the con smile like that. What right did the killer have to be happy? And then Fry was giving him the cold shoulder as though they’d not talked and he couldn’t figure out why the hussy was so well liked that everyone else jumped to her defense anyhow…

It was a week into their lockdown that things went south. He supposed it was the fact that even in space he preferred to be moving. Nothing moved here, or at least not fast enough for him. So when most of them went into the sleep area after the second meal (the cooking had become more rationed with the power issue, so they had one one meal that was usually something canned or leftover from the last one or two), he really found he didn’t want to join them. Instead he snagged one of the skiff manuals and stubbornly forced himself to read the boring thing.

Most the faces seem to think he’s finally wanting to help, after all. And Paris has been doing just about the same, because they need all the eyes they can get double-checking the connections now, even if they are stumbling over each other. So he was out at the table reading the manuals for the engines of the skiff. The only thing he recalled being told was to not mess with it, to take some string and mark the possible problems with it, his color was red, and then let Carolyn, River, Imam, or the Doctor actually do the fixing.

Only when he went over to the skiff and started comparing diagrams to physical engine he can’t spot anything wrong. It sure looked finished to him. He was not understanding why this needed to wait. It seemed more to him like perhaps it was Richie’s ploy to somehow not get on the Skiff when they left. He had bills, and damn it the man was a merc killer. He should be behind bars, and nothing could change that fact, not even his current flirting with this mysterious Doctor bloke.

But even with his suspicions, he was not stupid enough to just slap a cell in. first he spenthours checking section after section, chart after chart, system after system. It all looked good. He even had his thread with him and a pair of snips in case he finds anything. He never has to use either. Why can’t the engine check be run? How much damage can a single power cell do? He’d guess not much. There’s no extra info about output or input in the guide.

The ex-ranger worried a bit. He couldn’t help it. They are so close to getting off this rock, just another week according to Carolyn, as long as they are careful about the connections. Thus far everyone has treated the skiff like glass. They are all spending their hours around it. It’s difficult because he was torn as to what he should protect. But as long as Billy didn’t do anything stupid, Rich was willing to give him the benefit of the doubt. Every other time when he’d needed a wild card, Johns has pulled one for him. He was sure hoping that this was the case now. Otherwise he’d kill the man, slowly.

River wandered past Richard’s cot and climbed up into the Time Lord’s. The gent didn’t respond to her presence, and she didn’t try to wake him, choosing to curl up against his side and to hold his large hairless hand in her own. Riddick studied the pair. It was like a father and a daughter; the way River acted toward the alien. He smiled slightly at them and worried the sweater with his thumb. He so wanted to follow her example and crawl into the Doctor’s bed. ‘Wonder what he’d do…‘

Out in the main room Billy is thinking over everything very carefully, trying to find some reason, any reason to not follow his hunch. Finally he was forced to face the simple fact that he grasp what was making everyone so paranoid about the skiff. Even after he double checked himself he spotted nothing wrong with the connections. So OK, his head was not as clear as it could be. So he went and took a hit, let the high mellow itself out and then checked himself again. He was positive that the connections are fine. He was willing to get into the cryo-station right now to test it. He trusted the Doctor’s and Dr. Tam’s work on the life support, one hundred percent. And it looked to him like the weird girl’s job on checking over Fry’s work was flawless too.

It must be hours later, by now. He decided to wait until the next day. Because it will take him that long to read the manual and memorize the engine check procedures. He settled in to read. Even when the others get up and go to work on the skiff, he read the book. He couldn’t see that they were finding much wrong either, from where he was reading, in fact. Like with the sandstorm though, there’s a constant background noise of screeching and clicking. It’s only when the pattering rain starts that Johns really cracks.

It took a week and a day for the planet to cool enough to start releasing moisture from the air enough for it to not be a fog or a mist. Richard has been smelling it, as it cools, the scent of rain drifting in between the cracks and seams. He did not bring it to anyone’s attention although he realized too late that heavy rain might trigger a bad reaction in Billy. He remembered what the marshal told him about his childhood and his pa and how the older man used to beat him and his brothers, just because he could. So he heard the first faint patters of the rain and again worried that something might be goingwrong. But the rhythm drowned out the relentless alien noise that had been creeping into their souls and brains and most everyone felt relief.

Most but not all. Billy felt nothing like succor. Rain. It was raining. ‘There’s nothing wrong with the connections, no reason why to not do an engine check,’ Johns thought. He hated the rain. Reminded him of home. It was always raining there. The rain made him flash back to the times and places when he was pushed into doing more than he could handle, because there were so many others counting on him being able to do stuff. Like keeping the vehicles running, taking them to school, keeping pa from hitting the littlest ones…

He blinked back the twisting sensations and sighed. The mule wasn’t working again? So he needed to get it running before dawn or pa would go spare. He had a test that day and he couldn’t afford to miss. ‘Course if pa broke his nose he’d sorta have to. So he needed to get this working and quickly.

Look, there was the problem. The battery was not connected. If he hooked up the power then the engine would turn over. If the engine turned over then he could get it started and pa wouldn’t hit him. Just a couple of little wires. Seemed like a large battery for the mule. Was this a new one? A borrow? Must be from the mines ‘cuz it sure was different than the one they owned.

There, that should do it. It should turn over now. He straightened up and toggled the power on. All hell broke loose. Suddenly there was a sparking pop followed by flickering light and heat and the smell of burning wire insulation. He won’t holler, because his pa will tan his hide. But he gets the mule turned off and began trying to put out the fires that have sprung up.

‘Well, so much for nice rain,’ Riddick thought as he jumped to his feet, along with the Doctor and Simon, both of which must be very light sleepers. The Tam scion paused to grab his bag while both the other two dashed out into the main area of the hanger. The Doctor did not pause, heading right for the smoldering vehicle. Richard grabbed fire retardant and followed on his heels. It was a matter of seconds before a coughing Johns was pulled from the skiff, and the inside was slathered in smothering foam. The Doctor was livid, “Just what, in Rassilon’s name, did you do?” He shook the redhead like the merc was a rag doll. “Never mind, I already know. You didn’t use the converter, did you?”

“What converter? I didna see no converter!” Johns coughed out.

“Such a stupid, selfish child.” He flung the merc away. Something about that snapped the man out of his flashback, but he has no idea what has pissed the alien he’s facing off as he did not remember what he’d done.

William Johns stumbled but managed to keep his feet. Instead of coming up with a retort he pulled his gun, but by the time he has it raised he was facing that blue tipped silver gadget. “Wha’? Will it stop bullets?”

“Billy,” Riddick warned. Simon had frozen over by the table and was just watching the events unfold.

“Fuckin’ lay off, trash-baby,” the merc waved the weapon the con’s direction. There was a short burst of piercing hum and a faint metallic clicking. Johns did not notice.

“Put the gun down, Johns. You got no fuckin’ idea what you are dealing with here,” Riddick tried again. The Doctor’s face was set in stone, hard and angered. This time he won’t give the man a warning about the gun backfiring.

The marshal finally looked at the dark blue eyes of the man opposing him and shuddered. Angered blue / angered olive green. Sharp features / harshly lined face. Pale skin / skin that hadn’t seen the sun properly in decades. The gun wavered. Tall imposing male / pa advancing on him. He shivered again, the weapon shaking now. All he saw was the harsh weathered face and hazel green eyes of his dad, fresh from the mines where he worked after a twenty hour shift, ready to beat the living crap out of whoever he caught just for the hell of it.

“Put it down, boy. Now.” The Doctor reached right into Johns’ mind and twisted his memories, pulling up what he needed to get the stubborn redhead to drop the weapon. It was a fight, mentally, for Johns to not just drop the gun and retreat in tears. He was not sure where he was for a moment, nor who it was in front of him. Rain. It’s raining. He smelt it, and heard it. Just like at home. He could never raise a weapon against his father, even to save himself from the abuse. Instead he lowered the gun and did not resist when a large bronze hand lifted it from his hand.

Riddick kept half an eye on the quivering redhead as he took the pistol apart and pocketed the bullets. The gun practically fell to pieces once he had the handle separated from the barrel because of the Doctor turning his sonic screwdriver on it anyhow.

0o0o0o0o0o0o0

Fry woke to the arid odor of wire insulation burning. ‘God No!’ She stumbled out of bed, into Imam who was reacting just as she was, only a farther from the door. She’s turned around backwards and disoriented in her panic. Imam caught her shoulders and turned her to face Paris. Richard, Simon, and the Doctor were already out there, leaving a wide-eyed River behind who was clutching the thin bedding on a cot that was not her own with a white knuckled grip. “Am I smelling smoke?” Paris asked.

Over top of his question he heard, “Sorry, Father,” from Carolyn.

And “No need to apologize, Ms Fry,” from Abu. The docking pilot and holy man both move to the door. He waited until they are past him before he got to his feet as well. Imam said back to the art dealer, “Yes, it does indeed smell as if something is burning.” Then he ordered Hassan and Suleiman to remain with Jack, River, and Ali.

They emerge from the sleeping area and could tell right away where the odor came from. It took only one glance to discover the source of the smoke. The skiff was decorated with the clear signs that the wiring had sparked out. Carolyn almost wailed in distress. Standing near the table was Simon, his healer’s bag held in one hand. Over by the skiff, off the end of the ramp were the Doctor, Richard, and William. The con was taking apart one of the merc’s guns while Johns trembled in the face of the fury unleashed his direction.

“Dr Tam, what happened?” Imam asked.

“I think there was a converter that was not hooked up, from what I overheard.”

‘Leave it to Johns…’ The blond shook her head. She rapidly descended into a state of shock. She wanted to cry. Bawl even. After all that work, they were left with zilch. She sank to her knees, “No.” Weariness sapped her ability to be angered at the moment. Would nothing go right? Carolyn curled in on herself and rocked a bit as she dealt with the strong emotions of helplessness and anguish. It was a mistake any of them could have made. Fry could have done it before she’d gotten some sleep. But if the redhead had been helping the entire time he would have known and remembered about the converter, and instead he’d spent his time visiting with Lady Morphine. But they had bigger fish to fry. Imam and Paris moved to the skiff, even as Simon guided the distraught woman into a chair.

After about thirty ticks the art dealer inquired, “Is it fixable?” He garnered several glares. “I suppose it will have to wait until the captain can assess the damage?”

At this the Doctor turned his gaze on the art dealer, burning with all the fury and power that he was able to call upon. The pasty fellow took half a step back. Riddick said, “Back to the table?” and with that the Doctor snatched Johns by the arm and wordlessly hauled him over to the others.

Paris tried again, “What would we need to fix the damage?”

Imam came up to Carolyn and placed a hand on her back, “God will see us through. You must have faith that there is a higher power at work, Captain. Come on,” He stepped over to make her some instant coffee. If there was a higher power he must be mighty pissed with her at the moment to be throwing this much shit her way. To be so close, less that a week away from take off, and to have it all go up in smoke. She dropped her head to the table. Maybe they should all just steal Johns’ stash and kill themselves by OD. Maybe she should just eat a bullet. Maybe they should walk out into the rain and let the natives have at…

“Can it be fixed!?” the art dealer shouted.

Fry groaned. They had salvaged just enough. Just enough to make it work. “You see a local ship supply depot anywhere around here?” Carolyn said with her head still on the table. Paris fixed Johns with an expression filled with venom. “I might be able to redo the engines with the cheap wire I replaced, but we’d have no life support. And the computer might be fried. If so we’d have no nav, either.”

“So – No.” Ogilvie summed up. He sat too, rather heavily.

There was a scraping sound as the Doctor pulled out a chair. “You, sit. And do not move,” he ordered as he dropped the merc into it. Johns trembled and slumped in the seat. “Ought to just cuff you there, to keep you from causing further harm.”

“Didna see a Co’verter,” the redhead mumbled weakly.

“Your English is atrocious.”

“Doc. Stop insulting him. Billy’s bad enough without being a boneless puddle of jelly.” Riddick stepped in.

“Don’t call me ‘Doc’.”

There was a sigh, “Right, sorry. Bob.”

Somehow that managed to diffuse the Time Lord’s ire instead of making it worse, “Tea?”

“I’ll make it,” Simon offered, seeing as Abu already had the pot of water on the hotplate.

Carolyn looked up at the holy man as he placed a mug in front of her, “Thanks, Father.” He rubbed her shoulder and settled down next to her with his own weak coffee.

Paris stood up and moved where Simon prepared cups and fixed himself a mug of coffee adding some brandy to the mix. He moved the bottle over to the table in case Fry wanted a drop in her coffee, too. He prefered this concoction to tea at the moment.

It was only after everyone had settled at the table that anyone dared to speak again, and it was Richard who spoke up, his hands curled around the mug of plain tea as if to absorb the heat of it, “Skiff’s fucked, am I right? Looks like most of it was smoldering when I put down the foam.”

“God, why?” Fry mumbled.

The Doctor cleared his throat; “There’s still my box. It’s not what it seems. I assure you the risk would be worth it to those who survive the run.”

“Exactly what is this box, anyhow?” Paris asked.

The Doctor looks at him. Well it was the moment he had been dreading. Time to tell them all about another way off this rock even though he had been trying his damnedest to get the skiff to work. He sighs, “It’s a TARDIS. My ship. A lot more than it looks like.”

“Wha’? You fuckin’ gotta ship?” Johns jumped up.

The Doctor glared at the redhead, “Sit. Down.”

Riddick shook his head and tugged his blue-eye-devil back into his chair. Now the marshal was throwing shards of glass with his gaze. “Johns, don’t do this. Remember what Hoxie did to you? Imagine that a hundred times worse.” The stare shifted off the Doctor and onto the con. Something in Rich’s stance must scream the truth of the matter because the merc slumped again into his chair.

Fry brightened, “So that’s why you wanted to try to reach it. Ok. At least we got something to hope for. Or, well, not much to lose, anyway. How far away is it, walking?”

“About a day and a quarter,” Abu said. “Over ground, with the predators. I believe that everyone should be in on this decision. We should either all go or all stay.”

The con looked at the holy man, “I’m gonna make a suggestion here. Why don’t we use the underground tunnels that the natives have surely vacated? We have a way down, the Coring shaft, and the box, err, Tardis, sits in a sinkhole already.”

“Those passages might be flooded,” Paris said. “It’s been raining for hours now.”

“And there might be natural drainage. We won’t know until we look,” Rich countered.

Simon stood, “I’ll tell the others to come out here. Will someone heat another pot of water?”

Fryhauled herself to her feet, picked up the empty carafe, and filled it before setting it on the hot plate. “We’ll need light, enough to get us through, and the kind the rain won’t short.”

0o0o0o0o0o0o0

All twelve of them gathered around the table, Johns in the ‘hot seat’ as it were with Imam and the ex-ranger flanking him. Simon sat with River just to the side, around the corner from where the redhead was. Across from the raven-haired siblings were Fry, Jack, and Ali. Next to River sat Suleiman and Hassan. Paris and the Doctor took seats at the far end of the table. The mood is somber.

“Alright. Thanks to human error, we don’t have the skiff,” Fry started, “But according to the Doctor there might be another way. If even one of us doesn’t want to go then we all stay, but remember the thirty settlers here before us died by huddling together in the dark.”

Eleven sets of eyes shifted toward the Doctor. “Um… My ‘box’ is a ship, called a TARDIS. If we can make it to the location where the ship is then we will be able to leave. The trick is – reaching it.”

The pilgrims erupt into overlapping chatter, excitement that perhaps not all is lost and a bit of outrage over there being another ship that they could have left on before before this happened at all.

Paris looked at the pale man and said, “Why didn’t you say something a week ago? Or while you were out there two days before the eclipse?”

The Time Lord glowers, making the art dealer shrink back. At the same time Imam said, “Quiet.” to his pilgrims. “As I recall, the Doctor has done everything he could to make us retrieve his belongings before this point. It was Johns here that indicated the risk was too high. Clearly the situation has changed and we need to rethink our options.”

“First off, what do we have for light?” The docking pilot listed of what she knows they have, “Flares, wielding torches, flashlights, the fiber optics, bulbs out of the headlights from the skiff that we might be able to salvage? Anything else?”

Paris offered, “Spirits. Anything over 45 proof burns quite well. But it won’t work in the rain.”

“How are we going to carry the generators for the fiber optics? My main concern is the weight,” Simon put in.

The Doctor scoffed, “Anyone have a sturdy bag or back pack.”

“I do,” said Jack. “You want it?”

The Time Lord smiled at the kid, “How about I make able to carry more on the inside that it looks able to on the outside, eh? So you can impress people with ‘magic’ later.”

“Ok.”

“I’ve got my healer’s bag,” Simon added.

“I’ve been meaning to fix that. Hand it over, Simon, and I’ll do that now.”

Fry said, “Lets gather together all the light we have and see what it amounts to. Come on, Johns. Lets get your flares.” The merc narrows his eyes at her but follows her off into the sleeping area to get his bag and gear because its the only way he’s going to get away from the table and the Doctor’s angered stare. Behind them the others all scattered to raid the tool boxes for light-up tools, the toys salvaged for lighting parts, and the goods hauled back from the crash site for bulbs stripped from consoles. Imam began looking for mirrored surfaces by which to reflect light, to make what they have seem like more. Paris searched for something to act as wicks for his makeshift lamps. River brought out the heavier clothes. The light sources slowly piled up on the table over the course of the next few hours or days. The Doctor wasn’t quite sure of how much time passed as he concentrated on his work, making the insides of both Simon’s healer’s bag and Jack’s backpack larger on the inside than they are on the outside.

All he was aware of was the tick of the numbers and the assistance from River that sped the task along. He considered Johns’ bags and concluded that if they needed it he’d convert them, but not of Johns was carrying them. He places those on the wait list until he knew for sure that they were needed. His goal was to fit one of the fiber optic generators into the pack and then run lines from the child’s back around to the rest of them. River understood the plan already and set up a sewing area where she could stitch the lines of glowing strands into sweaters, in an attempt to give them more protection. She started with the leaders heading off to the skiff, once Carolyn and Johns returned carrying the headlights from it. Riddick dragged one of the sanded planes of metal over and began slicing it into circles that can be tacked into cones. These will reflect any light set into them.

After everything was gathered they met back at the table, Fry took stock of the pile, “So we have ten lamps fueled by spirits. Six flairs, two cutting torches, ten hand lights, kilometers of fiber optics. Johns, you have a light on your shotgun. Paris has lighters. There are the tools that the Doctor thinks he can rig more bulbs too. Awright. So maybe we’ll have enough light.”

Johns swallowed, “Well, I don’t want to jump to conclusions here… but ‘member that boneyard? These just might be the fuckers that killed every other living thing on this planet, okay?” he paused and noted that everyone was looking at him, “If you are all in your right mind, I pray you all go insane, ‘cuz going out there, light or no light is death.”

“I agree Johns, I saw the cut-marks on the bones. Wasn’t a natural die-off,” Carolyn said. “But – we stick to the plan, yeah? Make it to the Coring Room, get down the shaft, and find our way to the Doctor’s ship. We’re off this rock.”

Jack shivered but spoke sounding indignant and bewildered, “You mean — tonight? With all those things that killed Shazza and Zeke still out there? You want to give them a shot at more of our flesh?”

“Oh, sure. Why not? Sounds like a hoot,” the art dealer replied. “After all, Johns only blew our single safe alternative.”

The marshal glared, “Back it up. How long can this last? Few days? A week? Those suns gotta come back sometime. And if these animals really are phobic about light, we just sit tight till then.”

Abu tried to make the redheaded man understand the real threat of the situation here, “I had the impression — from the model — that the two planets were moving as one. That there would be…” he sighs, “a lasting darkness.”

“Thirteen point nine-four universal standard years, including 3 leap years,” River said. “Dawn will come after five thousand and ninety-one days, two hours, and twenty-four minutes.”

That took the wind out of Fry’s sails and cut her retort to meaningless, “Nearly fourteen years?”

The dark headed girl nodded and pulled out her notebook, “Based on the calculations and movements, with an allowance for negative gravity pull.” She flipped the book open so the others can see the equations and proofs she used to make her estimate. It made for a persuasive argument.

The merc’s eyes swung back to Jack and Ali, “Look, we gotta think about everyone now — the kids especially. How scared are the boys gonna be out there?”

“Hey, I ain’t chicken-shit scared!” Jack protested.

Carolyn placed a hand on the youth’s shoulder, “Don’t use the boys for a smoke screen.” Johns gave her a mock innocent questioning look, “You deal with your own fear, Billy.”

His expression changed, becoming slier, “Hey. Why don’t you rag your hole for two seconds and let someone else come up with a plan that doesn’t involve mass suicide?”

Fry met his challenge with a raised eyebrow. Two seconds pass. “Like your last plan? No, don’t answer that. Never mind.” She moved around until she was more in his face instead of across from him and looked at the chrono. “Two seconds. No? How much you weigh, Johns?”

The merc looks puzzled, “What the hell’s it matter?”

“How much?”

“Around seventy-nine kilos,” Johns said with a shrug.

She looked at the chrono again, “Two minutes? Got anything? No – you don’t. Wanna know why? Because you’re seventy-nine kilos of gutless white meat, and that’s why you can’t come up with a better plan.”

Suddenly there was a blur of movement at Johns went for the docking pilot in the only way his brain can conceive of at that moment, with his shotgun. Several other blurs happen almost at the same time. The con stepped in to block the gun, the Doctor whipped out his sonic screwdriver and pointed it at the redhead, and Jack stepped in front of Fry. Johns came up short because his gun can’t move past Riddick’s chin. The merc went from angered blue and green stares to looking at why his gun wasn’t moving, “Just where do you think you’re going?”

Richard tilted his head against the barrel of the shotgun and gave the marshal a devilish half-grin. He then played on the man’s greed, looking him in the eye sans goggles, “Think about that reward, Johns.”

“I’m willing to take a cut in pay.”

One eyebrow quirked up, “Yeah? How ’bout a cut in your gut?” The blue eyes dropped from the silver down to the tapping blade and the tight grip. The shiv was poised for evisceration, and Johns knew that even if he blows the ex-ranger’s head clean off his guts will still end up all over the Hanger floor, because that’s how good Riddick was. It alone wasn’t enough to make him back down, however. He narrowed his eyes.

“Please…this solves nothing…” the holy man pleaded. The two opponents stared at each other a bit longer and then Johns remembered that the Doctor might have tripped the pins in the shotgun. It might backfire. He glared over at the Time Lord and lowered the weapon. Riddick steps back, still ready to ghost the man if he threatens anyone again.

After a beat to make sure that the threat of violence was gone, Fry said. “Ok. We stick to the plan. The natives are afraid of our light. We don’t have to be scared of them. Why don’t we vote? All in favor raise their hand.”

Carolyn, River, Simon, Jack, Ali, Suleiman, Richard, Hassan, and the Doctor all raised their hands. Abu looked at his pilgrims, let out a breath, and added his hand. “I’m going to regret this,” said Paris before raising his too.

They all looked at Johns. “Fuckin’ insane, the lot of you. But I ain’t staying here if you are taking all the light.” They count that as a raised hand.

There was only one other difficulty, and Abu was the one that voiced it, “And you’re certain you can find the way there? Even in the dark?”

“No, I’m not. But they can,” the blond said as she pointed to Riddick and the Doctor. The pair glanced at each other then back at the rest of them. The con wondered how the hell he ended up being in the hot seat. Lovely. People were going to die. He knew it for a fact. What he didn’t know was how many.

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