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Chapter Text

The wind and rain blew fervently against the swinging windows. I rushed to close it before they could start yelling again. Though I doubted they were even awake with how much alcohol was in their bodies. Still, I was wary to let them wake. I was still healing from the last beating, and I would not handle another so soon very well. So, I rushed to the first floor window at the back of the house. The only light came from the candle lit lantern in my left hand. With my right hand, I reached out and re latched and locked the double window and drew the curtains closed. Surely the storm had not so easily opened the windows, so what had? I drew my ragged shawl closer to my body, which was only clothed in a ragged pair of grey cotton pants and thin white shirt.

As if something had read my mind, a noise came from the cellar. Fear froze me in place, its’ icy claws clutching at my stomach and heart. Sensing danger was not uncommon to me. Danger was always around me anyhow. The sound, a shuffling of feet, came once more before dying down. I kept my eyes glued to the darkness of the cellar entrance. My mind begged me to stay put, not to go down there. But that was where I slept. I would get a good thrashing if I tried sleeping anywhere else. It felt like ages that I stood there, struggling with the two sides of my mind. Finally my feet moved forwards, carrying me down the stone steps. I was extra cautious descending the stairs because my knees wobbled beneath me. I had yet to discover what was down in my sleeping quarters, and I was already trembling like a mouse fearing a cat. Without any of the lights on in the cellar, save my lantern, it was truly dark. But even the lantern did not cut very far. It only took me a few short strides from the stairs to be in the room. My ears were met with silence, as if nothing was down there with me. “H-hell-” I gasped as a calloused hand clamped around my mouth. Something sharp was pressed into my neck. I began breathing hard, my heart pumping adrenaline.

The body that pressed itself against my back was tall and muscular. The person was male because they towered over my small 5’6” frame. The hand that was around my mouth was huge. It could easily wrap around my jaw, mouth, and chin. It would have no problem wrapping around my neck and strangling me to death. His arms were muscular and strong. Fear had begun to heighten my senses about this man. My sense of touch, hearing, and smell were working in overdrive. Every nerve twitched under my skin where his skin contacted mine. I could hear his breathing as if it were my own, no matter how loud mine was or how quiet he made his. My nose picked up his natural musky scent, as well as sweat, rain, and blood. Blood meant danger. The aura resonating off of him seemed to back it up, dangerous. I was in trouble. “Don’t scream.” His voice was dark, deep, and thunderous. I felt it through my entire being. If it had not been for the situation, I may have felt a little excited about it.

But no, I was shaking. I was shaking in his grip as I slowly nodded my head, highly aware of the blade at my throat. “Blow out the light,” he hiss in my ear. I complied quickly, lifting the lantern to my face and blowing out the candle. His hand, which had let go long enough for me to follow orders, was back over my heart shaped face again. Panic set in as I gently dropped the lantern to the stone floor. “Good girl,” he purred into my tangled pitch black hair. Tears were beginning to build in my brown eyes. He dipped his head down to the crook of my neck and right shoulder. Slowly, he lifted it back into my hair, sniffing a trail as he went. Something similar to a growl rumbled through his chest. I jumped ever so slightly at the startling sound. Then he removed the blade and pushed me further into the room.

Because I was so light, so underfed, I fell to the floor with a sharp smack of skin against smooth stone. Without hesitation, I scrambled into the far corner of the room. I knew this room well in the dark. Now huddled into a ball in my little corner, I risked a peek up. Staring down at me through the darkness as if it were fully lit in the room were two molten silver orbs. The deadly gleam in them sent chills down my spine. I had only heard of one person who had eyes like those. Richard B. Riddick. He was so infamous for his killings and slam escapes. Even though I did not get to go outside often, I had still heard rumors and whispers about him. I could not help but bury my head into my knees, curling up tighter. When I looked up again, I saw nothing but a black mass. Snapping my head up, I squeaked and tried to scurry away. I had not even heard him move, but he had been hovering right above me. I did not like it. I did not like being trapped with nowhere to run to.

I had just been able to get my upper half past his legs when his two wide, long but thick fingered hands snatched me up by my hips. Just as easily had he had picked me up, he had shoved me to the wall. There I was, trembling like a leaf, trapped between a rock and a hard place. “Please let me go. I promise I won’t tell them that you’re here, and they never come down here. So please don’t kill me,” I whispered, tears streaming down my face now.

“Don't tell anyone I'm here, or else I kill you. Bring me food and water at least once a day, and share your sleeping quarters with me.” It was a demand I could not disobey, so I agreed. He dropped me and let me curl back into the corner as he took my cot adjacent to the corner I was in. How the fuck was I going to get out of this one?

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The blow struck hard and heavy on my cheek. I fell to the ground, soundless. “Learn to stay out of other people’s way, you worthless bitch,” Horace, my ‘father’, spat at me. He wasn’t much of a father. Usually he left me alone to ‘mother’, Belle. But when he was drunk, like he was now, he would go into fits of rage. I could be beat for anything, even just breathing funny. I stifled a cry as Horace pulled me up by my long hair, dragging me to the steps of the cellar. Without hesitation, he pushed me down the,. My body bounced off the stone stairs, rolling to the bottom. Not another word was said as he walked away. When I was sure he was gone, I finally allowed myself to groan. I had stopped on my stomach, which I was kind of thankful for. Last time he had thrown me down the stairs, I had hit the back of my head on the floor and suffered a concussion.

My muscles screamed and ached as I pulled myself up to sit on my knees. I cradled my bruised cheek in my hand, fighting back tears that always threatened to spill after every incident. One of these days I would get free of their tyranny and abuse. For twenty one years I had suffered at their hands. If I tried running off without a plan, they would only find me and drag me back. I had no weapons, no money, no place to go, but one day I would get free and make them pay.

My new ‘roommate’ had allowed me to keep a candle lit on the table beside the doorway. It gave me just enough light to see some things, and there was just little light to mess with his eyes. Riddick had not bothered me much, had not talked or touched me. But I was sure he could hear what was going on upstairs. He never acknowledged if he did though. He had been here a total of four days. No one had noticed. I did bring him food when I could. They never really noticed it was missing, but they were getting suspicious. I had gotten used to him being near me. His eyes no longer startled me. I no longer feared him. I looked up at Riddick. He was lounging on my cot, watching me get pushed down the stairs. He had heard what was going on. I wondered for a moment if he questioned what was going on, but his facial expression never faltered, his eyes never held anything that I could read.

With a sigh, I crawled over to the corner adjacent to my cot and sat with my back against the wall. I groaned and leaned back into whatever comfortable position I could find. “What caused the beating this time?” I looked up at him in surprise. Then my surprise turned to anger.

“I was born, that’s what caused the beating this time, and any other time,” I growled lowly, looking away from him and bringing my knees to my chest. “I wasn’t wanted, and they act as if I am to blame for it. They don’t care. All they do is get drunk or beat me. He’s even tried to rape me a couple of times in his drunken stupor. Fighting back only made those punishments worse, but I was not going to let him violate me.” I didn’t know why I was telling him these things. It’s not like he would care.

“They’re getting suspicious. You’ll have to leave soon.”

“Hold them off for a few more days.”

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“So, you were hiding him? Why? Why?” Belle’s voice screeched in my ears. “You put us in danger, you brat!”

“The only person in danger of him was me, I assure you,” I spoke softly. I had woken up this morning to Riddick being gone. I don’t know how they found out, but they did. Horace laughed in my face, twisting my head around by my hair. I gritted my teeth together, determined not to let them break me.

“I bet you let him fuck you. Let him have a little fun before he ran off, hm?” His breath was awfully close to my ear. My knees dug into the floor, and I tried to keep my breathing level as anger bubbled inside of me. This was it, I couldn’t take it anymore. I tossed my head back sharply, letting it collide with his nose. He growled and let go of me. I lunged at Belle, who stood in front of me. She went down with what force I put into my lunge. Quickly I was scrambling up, reaching for something to use as a weapon. A candelabra was all I could grasp as Horace’s large, beefy hands pulled me back. He spun me around, and I swung the heavy metal at his head. I hit him in the temple. He fell to the ground, not dead but unconscious.

“You bitch!” Belle screamed hysterically. “How could you do that to your own father?!” The candelabra was whipped from my hands. Her nails raked across my face, leaving deep scratches on my left cheek. I cried out in surprise and backed up. Blood dripped down my face, unhindered by anything. I tripped over Horace’s limp body. Belle came down on top of me, her hands around my throat. Adrenaline was pumping through my system, urging me to fight back as she tried to strangle me. I bucked my hips and wiggled to get the older woman off of me. Eventually I was able to, but not before she left bruises of her fingers on my skin. I sucked in much needed air, my head feeling light. But I wasted no time lunging on top of her, my anger fueling me. I was seeing red.

“He’s not my father, and you’re not my mother,” I snarled as my fingers tangled around her neck in a bruising fashion. My grip was tight, tight enough to cut off air circulation. I wasn’t going to let her live, she didn’t deserve it. Belle clawed and grasped at my arms, my face, my neck. She couldn’t reach me. Panic filled her dark green eyes. A smile spread across my face. It was almost like I wasn't there, but a part of me who wanted this was. It frightened me, but I didn’t let up. The light was fading from her eyes. Dull is how I could describe them. She had been struggling underneath me, but now she was still. No movement came from her chest. I let go of her, and her head lolled to the side. She was dead. But he was not.

I gasped and bolted up as I heard him groan. I had to leave. This was my chance. It was raining outside once again. Cold rain that would bite you to the bone, but I could not stay. I got my feet under me and bolted out the door. I ran full force into it, knocking it wide open. The ground beneath my bare feet was slippery as I tried to find traction to run. I slid for a few feet before actually running down the street. I did not stop as I passed by people. The rain mixed with my cuts, making them stink. Tears filled my eyes, and I let myself cry as I pressed on faster and faster, until I was sure I would not be found. The rain soaked my ragged clothes, biting at my skin and chilling my bones. My feet and toes felt numb. Eventually I stumbled into an alley. That was where I ended my run. I could not go further if I could not feel my feet enough to use them.

I pressed my back to the rough wall, listening over the sound of rain and silence for footsteps. For a while, none came. But then, in the distance, there were soft steps hurrying my way. I panicked, pushing myself further into the alley. They were getting closer and closer. My chest heaved with the lack of breath as I tried to hide myself, but it didn’t work. A dark skinned man in funny robes rounded the alley corner, staring down it until he found me. A soft look washed over his face as he cautiously approached me. I curled further into myself as he bent down in front of me. “Poor child. Who has done this to you? Please, won’t you let me help you, I am only a friend.” He reached out his hand for me to take. At first I flinched, but I saw no malice in his eyes. After a few moments of hesitation, I took his warm hand in my frozen ones. He pulled me to my feet and close to his body, wrapping my up in his arm to keep me warm. I had not noticed how I was shivering until then. “My name Imam, what is your’s?”

I looked up at him. I really didn't recall having a name, only being called profanities and other harsh words. “I don’t know my name,” answered him.

“Then come home with me. I shall feed you and keep you warm, then we will decide on a name for you.”

Chapter Text

The docks were bustling with people as they tried to board their flights. I watched with almost terrified eyes as they pushed past me. I was looking for the Hunter-Gratzner, but I could not find it in this damn crowd. I had also lost Imam and his three religious sons. Where could they have gone? I pushed through the crowd, ever watchful of my surroundings. It had been about six months now that I had escaped all of the abuse, but I always watched, always waited for his hand to reach out and take me by the neck. I nearly screamed as a gentle hand landed on my shoulder. I spun around, my curly black hair flying. I sighed in relief. It was only Imam, Suleiman, Hassan, and Ali. “Hannah, this way.” I let Imam take my hand and lead me to the large passenger ship. The boys ran ahead of us, climbing onto the ship with us trailing behind. Imam let go of my hand and let me go in first. This was my first time on a ship, my first time traveling. To say I was nervous was a bit of an understatement. I had been informed that our cryo-chambers were at the front of the ship. I split with my group. Imam was having to chase the boys down. I chose to look for my chamber.

Pulling my thick leather jacket over my body further, I slowly walked the aisle to the main passenger compartment. Along the way, I could see people climbing to chambers labelled with their names. I looked for mine. My eyes were glued to the tops of the chambers, and I didn’t notice the person in front of me. “Whoa there, Sweetheart.” I looked up at the man I bumped into and backed away a few steps. This man was tall and lean. He had fair skin, short curly blond hair, and blue eyes. He spoke with what sounded like a texan drawl. He was leaned against the glass of a heavy duty cryo-chamber. I felt uncomfortable under his gaze, like he was going to eat me. The druggish smell coming from him also deterred me from him. An audible growl emitted from the cryo-chamber. I darted my eyes over onto caramel skin, a tall and muscular figure, and a shaved head. He was chained, bit between his white teeth, and a blindfold over his molten silver eyes. Riddick. I could not pull my eyes from him. Though he could not see, he was looking at me. It made my insides freeze and clench in frisson.

The man leaning against Riddick’s cryo-chamber chuckled and removed himself from the glass. “Take a good look, Sweetheart. Richard B. Riddick. Convict, murderer. It’s the last anyone will ever see out of him,” the man drawled out, never taking his eyes off of me. I looked back at him.

“Sorry for bumping into you,” I apologized. “I really must be getting to my cryo-chamber. My travelling companions will be looking for me.” I lied. I had not seen Imam or the boys walk past, but I knew they were on the ship.

“At least let me get your name,” the man said, stepping in front of me as I tried to move around him. “I’m William Johns, by the way.” He held out his hand for me to take. I hesitated, and I’m glad I did because the next thing I knew, I had Ali clinging to my waist. He was pulling me along, Imam and the other two walking up on us.

“Come Hannah, let us get to our chambers,” Imam ushered. I listened to him, bypassing Johns’ outstretched hand, but I did look back to get one last glance at Riddick. He had followed my movement as if he had seen me the entire time. Ali brought me out of my thoughts as he pulled me to my cryo-chamber. I helped Ali climb into his, which was across from me before climbing into my own. The door sealed itself, leaving me to stand slightly reclined in the chamber. I don’t know how long I waited until I felt the cool of the ions releasing in the air around me, lulling me into what felt like a limbo, a place between awake and asleep. I gave into it and let my mind go blank.

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I felt the ship shaking and rocking back and forth. Why was I waking up? We weren’t at New Mecca yet, were we? No, we couldn’t be. We were still in flight. I groaned and brought my hand to rub my face in the tight quarters. Then I looked around. It seemed that others were waking up to, being jostled vigorously by the ship. Without warning, the ship rocked violently. My body bounced from side to side in the metal container, then back and forth from the glass to the metal at my back. My forehead hit the glass again and everything went black.

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I once again awoke with a groan. This time I wasn’t being jerked around, but it was dark. Pitch Black in fact. I could hear others in the distance, shouting for people. It was hot, the air was dry, and I was having trouble breathing. Had we landed? Then why was everything black? Why was I lying on the glass face first and not on the metal on my back? I began to panic, pushing at the unbroken glass underneath me. I pushed with my hands and knees, but could not lift myself. I began to kick and struggle, the feeling of dread and helplessness settling in my chest as I began to scream for someone to flip me over. I tried to scream for them to hear me, but nobody came. I was hyperventilating now. I couldn’t calm down. Suddenly my cryo-chamber flipped over, revealing light and broken metal overhead. Had we wrecked? That would explain some things. But where were we? And who flipped me over?

Now that light was streaming into my chamber, I was calming down. Testing the door, I pushed it up. It lifted without resistance. Quickly, I scrambled from the compartment and onto what was left of the metal flooring of the ship. I looked around, searching for who had helped me, practically saved me. There was no one there. The shouting was still in the distance. With shaky arms and trembling legs, I hoisted myself off of the beaten up cryo-chamber. I stumbled, feeling dizzy as I righted myself into a standing position. I put a hand to my aching forehead and clamped my eyes shut. “Shit,” I mumbled to myself. If Imam had heard me say that I would have been scolded. Then I remembered what I was trying to do.

I stumbled through the darkened hull of the ship, or what was left of it anyways. So much stuff had been broken and torn in the crash. I had to climb my way over metal beams and empty chambers, but eventually I was able to get myself out to where the rest of the people were. The first to spot me were Ali and Hassan. They came running to me in a frantic state. Tears running down their cute little cheeks. I wrapped them both in a hug as they mumbled things in their own language. Suleiman and Imam were then next to embrace me. “By Allah, you survived, child. It is a miracle. We thought we had lost you,” Imam said, holding my probably bruised face in his hands. I smiled wearily at him.

“Can’t get rid of me that easily,” I joked and tried to laugh. I ended up grimacing instead. “What happen-” Before I could finish my sentence, all of us heard the screaming of a man further back in the ship opposite of where I had come from. Imam, Suleiman, Hassan, and the rest of the people I did not know hurried back to where the screams originated. I tried to keep up, but it was hard to move fast with my head injury. As we hurried back, the man from before, Johns, caught up with us. He took the lead as we all came upon a man in a pilot jumper still strapped to his chair with a metal rod sticking from his chest. I covered my mouth with my hand, feeling as though I would be sick at the sight. The woman that sat beside him looked like she was contemplating on what to do.

The woman finally decided to try and pull the rod out of his chest, but as she wrapped her hands around the bloody metal, he began screaming again. “Don’t you- Fry don’t you touch that handle!” He screamed in hysteria and pain. Everyone jumped, and closed my eyes and turned away from the scene. I couldn’t watch. Several of the surviving passengers told the woman, Fry, to get it out of him, while the other woman in our groups told her that it was too close to his heart. He was a dead man either way.

“There’s some anestaphine in the med-lock in the back of the cabin,” Fry’s voice rang out. The man in the chair grunted and sputtered out for breath as we looked to the back of the cabin.

One of the men, an older gentleman with fine clothing and glasses on turned to look at Fry and said, “Not anymore there’s not.” There was a pause of silence as we waited for her to speak.

“Get out of here,” she said quietly, not looking anyone in the eye, just staring at the dying man. Her face twisted in distraught. “Everyone.” I could not take looking at the body anymore, and I was one of the first ones out of the area. Once I was far enough away from the scene, I stopped to lean against a sturdy piece of metal to catch my suddenly ragged breath and calm my nerves. Others walked by me. I watched them leave. First it was a man who looked like a prospector, followed by the third surviving woman. Then the man in fineries. Next was a kid a little older than Hassan, maybe Suleiman’s age. He glanced at me before continuing on. Johns was the last one out, other than me. He gave me a once over that sent a wave of unease through me, but did not try to speak to me.

It was hard to breath normally on this planet. I felt short a lung, and the heat was starting to get to me. As I finally recovered, I began walking outside. I struggled to get my jacket off. Apparently I had injured my shoulder as well. I grunted as I strained my left arm back. Movement from the corner of my eye caught my attention. I stopped in my tracks, completely unmoving as I stared at what it was. Riddick. He was chained to a large beam, arms tied uncomfortably behind his back. The bit was still in his mouth and the blindfold was still on. There was a tear in the blindfold over his left eye. I could see his molten silver eye staring at me, piercing my skin. For a moment I wondered if he remembered me. It was possible, but he probably didn’t.

Still, the urge to walk up to him was strong. I let the impulse take over, removing my jacket completely along the way. His eye followed my every move as I cautiously approached him. Nervousness set into my stomach as I stopped in front of him and stopped down to his level. I was tempted to reach up and untie the blindfold, but I knew that would be foolish. I may also get in trouble for it. It seemed he had already gotten loose once, and he would get loose again. I just hoped he wouldn’t kill me this time. A low, animalistic growl rumbled through him as he tried to lean closer to me. I let out a small gasp, but stayed frozen in my place. Why was I so afraid of him now? “Do you remember me?” I asked him quietly. He seemed to contemplate my question before nodding slowly. I let out a breath I had not known I was holding. I opened my mouth to say something more, but heard my name being called by one of the younger boys. Riddick lifted his head to look in the same direction as me. “I have to go,” I said, giving him a glance before standing up and walking outside.

Chapter Text

I don’t know how much time had passed since we had all been sent out of the wrecked ship by the captain. It was hard to tell since the shadows had not moved. The boys and I sat around Imam as he prayed. The boys prayed with him, I simply observed. I was not religious, never had been. I don’t even think I know how to be. Imam tolerated that from me because I didn’t cause trouble to him or his practice. Others around us walked about, scouting out the immediate surrounding areas. This planet was hot and dry. We were surrounded by a never ending desert. The earth beneath our feet was just sand. If there had been life on this planet before, it did not show. We were stranded on a desolate planet. It was also hard to breath. I still felt short a lung, and the pressure of the atmosphere made my joints ache. I sat in the sand, trying to conserve my breath as Imam recited his chant with the boys. I had to shield my eyes from the two suns that shone brightly. My hair felt blistering hot, and the tank top I was in gave me no relief. I didn’t understand how Imam and the boys could stand being in those robes.

There was nothing else to do as we waited for Captain Fry to come out of the ship. I looked at the people watching. It was not hard to study those left around me. The woman-Shazza I had heard her being called-was walking around looking for salvageable things with a darker skinned man named Zeke. They seemed to be lovers of some sort. Both held the signs of being prospectors, with their tool belts and work clothes. Must have been travelling to somewhere that held prosperity for them. Then there was the boy, Jack. He was slim, lanky. He wore a cap on his head, and his hair poked out from underneath… dirt smudged his slim face. He seemed nice enough. Though, I didn’t trust many people by first glance. It was hard sometimes. It took weeks before I could even trust Imam enough to tell him what I had been through. I had even told him that I had killed Belle, but I had said it was in self defense. He had taken pity on me and was going to bring me to start a new life. But, that was ruined when this crash happened.

Paris was the older man in all the silk robes. He complained too much and always seemed to have a whine in his voice. I didn’t like him. He annoyed me and got on my nerves every time he opened his mouth. Rich people. Then there was Johns. He was a cop, or at least that’s what I figured from the badge pinned to his blue button down shirt. But he had this shady look to him. I didn’t trust him. I hardly trusted anyone here, and I was always watching my back. It had become a habit of mine since I had gotten free from all the past abuse. I was determined not to go back. Hell, I even had a knife stashed away in my right boot just in case I ever needed it. It had also become a habit of mine to size people up, see how big of a threat they were to me and how to avoid a conflict. I didn’t want to hurt anyone if I could.

Eventually, Fry came out of the ship, dressed in whatever she had been wearing underneath the pilot suit. She walked on top of the wreckage with the other people I had been studying. She was about the same size as Shazza. I was smaller than both by just an inch. I didn’t weigh as much as them either, but I had been gaining weight at a healthy rate before we had left on this shit parade of a journey. Fry held the air of nervousness about her. This made me think something was off as Imam, Hassan, Ali, Suleiman, and I walked up to the group. Ali clung to my hip as if he were afraid I would vanish if he let me go. He was a very small boy, and had become easily attached to me. I didn’t mind. I guess you could say I loved the boys, if you could call this feeling love. I really didn’t know what that felt like.

The rest came walking down to meet us. “See what you can salvage,” Fry ordered us. “Luggage, liquids, weapons. Anything of that sort could be of use.” I looked around us, as did the others. There wasn’t much left to salvage, but there was a container nearby that could hold something of value to our survival out here. “We’ll start with that container. The five of you, meet me there to check it out. The rest of you stay here and see what you can find.” Fry started off towards the remains of the ship. Paris was scurrying ahead of us. Imam and Ali, who had just recently detached himself from me, followed after. Then it was just Johns and I. I wrapped my arms around myself in a subconscious way of protection as I followed behind the little scouting party of ours. Johns stayed close beside me.

“We never got formally introduced back on the ship before the crash. As you know, I’m Johns. What is your full name?” He asked, staring down at me with a lustful haze in his eyes. It was a look I had seen many times before, only this person wasn’t drunk and he wouldn’t so easily be fought off.

“Hannah. Just Hannah,” I answered him, unwilling to look him in the eye. Instead, I stared straight ahead as we neared the container. Johns was about to ask more when we heard Fry call him from the ship behind us. I gave me a once over before reluctantly going back to see what she needed. I sighed in relief and risked the activity of running to catch up to Imam. I didn’t trust Johns. I didn’t want to be alone with him. I would rather share sleeping quarters with Riddick again rather than be within five feet of him.

Once I caught up, Paris and Imam were already trying to pry the door to the container open. “Hannah, grab here and pull.” Imam motioned to a weak spot in the metal. Rolling my shoulder, I grabbed the door and readied myself for the signal to pull. “On three. One… two... three!” The three of us adults pulled at the metal keeping us out of the container. It groaned but did not give. We pulled once more. The metal slid across the door track, but not enough for anyone to enter. By that time, Fry and Johns had caught up with us.

“We need help. The door is stuck, and the three of us alone can’t open it,” I told Fry as she stepped over some debris. Johns walked a few feet away before picking up a large metal beam.

“We use this as a wedge, and that thing will pop right open.” He motioned to the crack door as he lugged the metal over to the five of us. I ushered Ali back to a safe distance as Imam and Paris helped him wedge it into the opening. “Alright ladies, help us pull on this thing.” I eyed Johns as I stepped up between Imam and Paris, using Imam and Fry to keep distance from him. “On three. One... two... three.” Luckily his plan worked. We put our weight into the beam and it began to pry the door from the container. Fry and I stepped back and let the men drop the beam to the sand beneath our feet. Paris was the first on in, fanning himself in over exaggeration of the heat. I rolled my eyes and waited to follow Imam in. We were the last to enter the metal hull.

Once we were in we began to realize why it was so hard to open this place. “The whole whole bloody container’s upside down. It’s all topsy-turvy.” Paris’s voice echoed as he spoke matter-of-factly. He, Johns, and Fry jumped town to where the luggage was, sorting through the jumbled up mess. I wrapped my arms around myself and tucked myself into Imam’s side. We watched from the ledge as Paris took out a key and opened up this weird looking box. I had never seen anything like it before. I cocked my head to the side to look at it better.

“What is that?” I asked. Imam looked down at me with an amused smile.

“It is a coffin. Great kings and queens in Egypt were buried in them many centuries ago on Earth. Now they are rich people’s collector’s items,” he explained as they rummaged through the coffin. I scrunch my nose up in disgust. Who would want to collect something a dead person was in? Ali called from the outside for Imam. He patted me on the shoulder and left to see what the boys needed.

Paris sighed as he picked up a bottle wrapped in protective white foam. “Welp, thank goodness it’s not a total loss,” he said, looking at Fry.

“Booze? This is what you have to drink?” she asked incredulously. Johns, who stood beside her, picked up another bottle and considered something, before opening it and taking a drink. It was about that time that Imam came back, taking a step in front of me to see what else the had found.

Paris became very offended at them. “I'm going to need a receipt for that1 After all, this is my personal collection.” I rolled my eyes at the pompous man. Fry simply hummed, brushing him off before turning back to us.

“I don’t suppose this would help you at all?” It was less of a question and more of a statement.

Imam shook his head. “Unfortunately it is not permitted, especially while on hajj.” That was why we were making this journey to begin with. It was meant to be a pilgrimage for them, and a fresh start for me. I sighed and rubbed my arms. “And Hannah has an aversion to all things alcoholic.” Imam only said that because Johns was holding his bottle up for me to take. I stared down at it with disgust and hate, a look both he and Fry took into consideration.

Johns rolled his eyes at us, looking over his shoulder as he shifted. “You realize there’s no water don’t you?”

Imam shook his head as Ali joined us, wrapping his small arms around me. “All deserts have water. It only waits to be found.” To me, Imam was right. With the education he had been teaching me in the past six months, it was known that there was always an oasis in a desert. One special spot with water. It was only a matter of finding that water before we all died of dehydration or heat exhaustion.

“I hope you’re right,” Johns said as he turned back around to help Paris with the rest of the alcohol.

Chapter Text

As we were making our way back from the container, we began to hear shouts from the other few we had left at the wreck. The closer we got, the louder they got. We went almost to the initial wreck when Shazza came running to us, panting as if she could not get enough oxygen. “Riddick…. He… he’s gone. Shackles cut a… and everything,” she managed to get out as she stabilized herself by bending and resting on her knees. My heart skipped a beat. As John muttered some foul language and ran on in the direction Shazza had been pointing. It was out into the middle of nowhere. Ali, and now Hassan and Suleiman, were holding onto me. Apparently I was supposed to protect them, or gave them a protected feeling. Imam ushered us into the hull of the ship. An open space, perfect for a communal shelter was made into our refuge. Zeke, the other man, ushered the other boy in with us.

“Look around and see what you can find for weapons. Even if we have to go back to the shipping container. Don’t go alone. Always in pairs or threes if possible.” She ordered as the others began to scramble around to look for makeshift weapons. I reached down and made sure that my large knife was still in the heavy knee high combat boot on my right foot. It would serve as my weapon, though I don’t think against Riddick.

“I may have some things we can use back in the container,” Paris said. Fry nodded and motioned him to lead the way. The others began running around looking for weapons. I sighed and began clearing some space for the kids to have room to be comfortable. Well, as comfortable as the could be. They all seemed so scared. I remember what that was like. I still fear every day of my life.

“Hey, what’s your name?” The boy with the cap asked. I turned to look at him. He was almost my height, head just above my shoulders. Freckles covered the expanse on his face. Blue eyes on brown brows contrasted with the little brown marks on his skin.

“I’m Hannah. And who are you?” I asked, turning to give him my full attention. I had learned that the younger ones liked it when adults gave them their full attention, it made them feel respected. And he didn’t seem like a threat to me or the holy sons.

“The name’s Jack,” he stated proudly. Then he leaned in, as if to speak to me privately. “So, what do you think of the mass murderer on the loose, Riddick?” My eyebrows shot up, surprised the this kid would ask such a question. He smiled cheekily, seeing my reaction. I scoffed and rolled my eyes at the kid, having seen this behaviour in the boys when I first came to live with them. Still, I decided to humor him.

“I think if anything, the only person he’s after is that cop, Johns.”

“Well I think he looks cool. I’m not afraid of him.” I snorted before shaking my head and returning to making space for them. Shazza and Zeke had returned with what looked like a welding torch. They set it off in the corner. Johns returned as well, armed to the teeth. I eyed his guns warily, keeping an eye on his hands as well.

“So why were you on the Hunter-Grazner?” Jack asked, jumping up on a solid piece of metal. The sons were doing the same, keeping out of the way of the adults. They seemed to be calming down.

“I was traveling with Imam, Ali, Hassan, and Suleiman. They were making the pilgrimage to New Mecca for the Hajj. It is their holy pilgrimage that the take every so often. I just came with them because I have no one else but them,” I said, shrugging my shoulder.

“I stowed away on this ship, looking for son adventure and action,” Jack admitted as the bustling sound of Paris and Fry came in. She was asking him questions about the weird, ancient looking weapons in his arms. Some looked like the obvious spears, others were shovel-like axes. Like any of us could wield those things. Zeke even made a comment about the blow dart gun Paris seem particularly proud of. Nothing but collector’s items to protect ourselves with. Still, some of the weapons had Jack interested, and he left me to go pick through the pile.

“I mean, what’s the point anyways. If the man is gone, he’s gone. Why should he bother us anyways?” Paris asked, frustrated with the whole situation.

“Maybe to take whatchu’ve got. Maybe to work your nerves. Or maybe to just come back and skull-fuck you in your sleep,” Johns said, looking the older man in the eyes. The way he said it sent chills up my spine. He seemed to be good at working up everyone’s nerves too.

“Sounds like a charmer,” Shazza muttered, sarcasm mixing with nerves as she picked up what she wanted and left Paris standing there, mouth agape. I walked by him as Imam ushered the boys out into his sight, giving him a sympathetic pat on the back. Then I glared Johns’ way as I passed him. He was working on finding a good position to be a lookout. So much for him being any help

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Fry, Zeke, Shazza, Imam, and the sons were getting ready to set out to look for water. The two prospectors had built a couple of contraptions that used oxygen canisters from the wreck. It was a breathing apparatus of sorts, only to be used sparingly. And there were only four that were made.The search team were worrying that nightfall would catch them when Paris alerted all of us to the fact that there was a third sun. “Bloody Hell,” Shazza expressed in amazement.

“Fuck,” I muttered to myself. And rubbed my sore forehead. Well, we didn't have to worry about nightfall any time soon. But that also meant no relief from the heat. Although we were bothered by the fact that there was no relief in sight for us, Imam was hopeful. His thought was blue sun, blue water. Of course Johns had to go and ruin it for them. The path they wanted to take was the path our friend had apparently taken earlier, although the restraints were found in the opposite direction. Something in my gut told me no to believe that. There was no way he would let us, potential threats, out of his sight so easily. Not when Johns was still alive and had a gun he could snag.

Still, they set off in that direction. Leaving Zeke, who now had one of Jonhs’ guns, Shazza, Jack, Paris, and I at the wreckage to salvage what we could. I was put in charge of looking for anything medicinal that we could use from the wreck.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Zeke had formed a makeshift sled to carry the dead in. I had stumbled over many of them from the unopened cryo-chambers in my search. And I hadn’t even left the main wreckage. It was only right we bury them. The prospector had given himself the job, wanting Shazza to stay near the wreckage as he took the bodies three at a time to the big mounds several hundred yards away from us. Shazza and I had insisted her take one of the oxygen apparatuses with him to keep him standing. Paris, obviously, had made himself cozy under a fancy umbrella with a cigar and some alcohol. Of course his luxuries didn’t come without the scares of Jack sneaking up on him. I found great amusement in that. While the rest of us worked like dogs for survival, he had his feet propped back as if he were in a tropical destination. It irritated me. He reminded me of people in a life I was hoping to long leave behind.

Jack was tasked with helping Shazza, who had the blow torch.They were working at the back end of the ship, taking buildable parts off to be used for something. I honestly wasn’t sure what the plan was. We couldn’t exactly make this thing flyable again. Maybe they were going to build a communication device?

Surprisingly, no one said anything to me as I wandered away from the safety of the group. Tasked with looking for such rare items, I figured I would not find them close to the main wreck. There was so much debris scattered around the area. A deep trench had been dug at the haphazard landing. It could take a long time to actually find anything of use out here. Slowly, I began my search. Most of the debris was large. Hunks of metal, burned luggage, flat pieces of siding. That’s all I could see for miles. But there was a large hunk of the passenger area maybe a mile away from where we had originally found ourselves. It wouldn’t hurt to look there.

Picking my way through the rubble, I made inside the torn off piece. Most of the cryo-chambers had been pulled from the walls with the force of our landings. Some hung by wires just barely holding them up. Others were completely attached to the walls. And Some lay every which way on the ground. Almost all of them were empt. The few that weren’t were spattered with blood to the point of clouding the windows. My stomach turned at the sight, wanting me to heave up whatever contents were still on it. I shook my head, holding the back of my hand to my mouth as I walked past them.

Some of the cryo-chambers were on their faces and sides. I looked in every one I could. Some were unable to be turned over. Debris and large metal beams had fallen on them. Towards the back of the ship fragment was only one chamber, flipped down on it’s glass doors. Watching my footing, I made my way towards it. Something in my gut churned as I approached it. A familiar cologne hit my nose, and my heart almost stopped. The pungent fragrance caused me to stop in my tracks in fear. My knife weighed heavy in my hands as I pulled it from its sheath. Slowly, as if what I feared would spring out at me at any moment, I crept towards the overturned chamber.

I couldn’t hear anything coming from inside. But that did not assuage the terror that bubbled in my chest. My hands shook as I gripped the cryo-chamber and pushed it over. As it turned, some small amount of red fluid seeped out. I knew what it was. With one last push, the cryo-chamber was on its side. In it lay the body of the only man that brought terror to my every waking moment. Horace. My Father. He had been on the same ship as I. He had been at the docks that day. Tears I had not known were forming streaked down the sides of my dirty face.

Large shards of glass were embedded in his chest. Most of his blood was pooled around him. What had not dried and coagulated had dripped onto the floor when I had moved his cryo-chamber turned casket. I couldn’t take it anymore. Turning from the scene, my body wretched and my stomach heaved bile onto the oil-covered floor. A sob wracked my body as I collapsed opposite of his dead form. Tears continued to stream down my face as I stared at the wall in front of me. Finally. I had never felt so free. Horace was dead. I no longer had to fear him coming to kill me in my sleep. A smile broke out on my face as tears of solace continued to fall. With the knife placed back in its sheath, my mind allowed me to rest for a few moments. In fact, I don’t know how long I sat there with my eyes closed. It was long enough for my tear stained cheeks to dry.

Suddenly three shots rang out back at the crash sight. My heart leaped into my throat at the sound.My body tensed and for some reason Jack came to mind. Abandoning all thought, I bolted towards the direction of the others. It was increasingly hard to breath as I ran, so I had to stop and lean on my knees to catch my breath. I was close enough to see Zeke run into the cargo space where the others were. Scanning across the horizon, I saw Riddick sat in the chair Paris was in earlier. He was rummaging through the spoiled man’s things. I didn't know whether to be relieved or scared that he was sitting atop the wreckage. With what little stamina I had recovered, I was able to quickly make it over to see what had really happened. Zeke had shot another survivor from the wreckage that he thought was Riddick.

Leaning against the hull, I tried to catch my breath again. The oxygen on this miserable planet was so thin. “Here.” I looked down at Jack, who was offering me the end of the oxygen apparatus. With a shaky hand, I took it from him, pulling several strong hits. It was enough from me to be able to get enough oxygen in my body. I handed the apparatus back to Jack before pulling him into my side.

“Thank God it wasn’t you,” I mumbled as I rested. Jack, surprisingly, let me hold him. He wrapped his arms around my middle and rested his head on my shoulder.

“I watch him die,” Jack mumbled. I rubbed his arm and shoulder, trying to comfort him. “He was just another survivor.” The sorrow in his voice broke my heart.