Jack got out of the skiff and stretched. Six hours in a land skiff with Amos was just about more that she could bear. Between his unceasing monologue on her left, and the monotonous plains on her right, she didn't whether to kill herself or not. The temperature was cool as the sun fell from its' peak. The day hadn't been hot to begin with, and the air made Jack shiver. Gathering her things, she let Amos escort her to the terminal. Just beyond, there was a shuttle to Nuevo Sao Paolo, leaving in less than ten minutes. Amos hugged her and uttered some advice.
"I know you been runnin' with Jimmy for a few years now, but you gotta remember he ain't here to help if you get in a fix." He cautioned. "If you need me, you know where to reach me." He finished. Jack shook her head.
"Speaking of my husband, if he asks, you don't have any idea what he's talking about. In fact, just don't fucking go near him. Stay out of sight." She stuck her face in front of his to make sure he understood. "You haven't seen me since the day we met three years ago. I don't care what he knows, don't tell him anything." She reiterated. Seeing that Amos understood, she hefted the tote onto her shoulder and walked into the terminal. Amos watched her go.

Jack handed her boarding pass to the attendant and walked through the weapons detectors. New Jamaica was run by criminals, and to minimize the incidence of 'unfortunate incidents', the local cartel had installed all sorts of security measures at all points of entry onto the planet. Jack kept walking until she came to the QE Class shuttle. Inside were ten private compartments. Jack was shown to the one by the hatch. Stepping in, she stowed her bags and tipped the attendant and waited for takeoff.
Twenty minutes later, the shuttle had left orbit and settled on course. The seatbelt lights came on, and the captain announced it was safe to move about the vessel. Jack unbuckled her harness and dropped to her knees. Under the seat and just barely in her reach was a suitcase. Lying flat, she scooted forward until she could wrap her hand around the handle. She pulled it out and flipped the latches to open it. The first thing she saw was a blue package tied with matching ribbon. Groaning, she opened it with trepidation. A small hand written note lay delicately ensconced in the most hideous bra and panty set she had ever laid eyes on. It was multicolored, with some kind of flower print she didn't recognize, with silver and gold tubing. The label said Nucci. She read the card: 'Just a little incentive to stop in on your way back.' It was signed with a loopy R, for Roseanne. Jack let the note fall from her fingers as if it were coated with the bubonic plague. She picked the lingerie up with the tips of her fingers and tossed them to the floor as well.

Shaking off visions of hell, she focused on the remaining contents of the small suitcase; a black empire cut blazer made of light wool. A home made holster, a box filled with five hundred rounds, and a gun. There was another note that said 'from Amos'. Jack hesitated before picking it up. It was larger than the standard 9MM automatic, with a thick squared barrel. A squat silencer capped the muzzle. On the side facing up was a small switch labeled 'C', and a button right beside it, labeled 'EM'. Picking it up, she flicked the C switch. Nothing happened. Turning it over, she realized the clip was loaded from the side, not the bottom. She removed the clip and the opened the chamber to verify they were both empty. She let the chamber slide closed and replaced the clip. Tightening her grip on the handle, she squeezed the trigger. A bit of recoil, but nothing she couldn't handle. And there was virtually no noise. She removed the clip to fill it with bullets when she noticed a small round casing, snuggled right behind it.
Taking a wild guess, she pulled it out too. Turning it over in her hand, she realized it was a battery of sorts. Experimenting, she pressed the EM button. A tiny red light appeared, but nothing else happened. She put the battery back in and pressed the button again. This time a green light came on, and the gun began to vibrate. She was so startled she nearly dropped the gun. Forcing herself to remain calm, she pressed the button once more and put the gun down. Bolts of pure adrenaline made her shaky. Her mind was racing. C stood for conventional. EM must have stood for Electromagnetic. Amos had scored a rail gun!
Jack sat down to steady her nerves. The reality of this whole plan began to settle in. The magnitude of what she was about to pull off seemed staggering. But people did this sort of thing all the time, didn't they? Besides, it had been a breeze to make off with the shuttle. She had a new identity, and untraceable funds. She even had a rail gun. And all of it had been remarkably easy. Deep in her gut, she knew her luck wouldn't last. She wondered what James was doing, back in Serengeti Willows.


A comm panel was blinking. After several seconds, a priority message from the Serengeti Police came onscreen. Cronus Cruise Lines had reported Jaquelin Liszka missing, two days prior. It was immediately followed by another incoming message. Jaquelin Liszka, had been formally charged with shuttle theft, and a warrant for her arrest had been issued. James might have seen it, had he not been out with his latest girlfriend.


Jack stood with her luggage in the arrival terminal. Hailing a jonnycab, she gave the address for a hotel on the other side of New Sao Paolo. NSP was a seedy looking Beverly Hills, in its' heyday. The homes were large and surrounded by lush lawns, but they were all behind tall fences. Iron fences, even titanium chainlink; all of them were electrified. Dogs roamed freely in the yards, and sentries were stationed in many driveways. Out on the street, trash fluttered in the breeze; dirt and dust lined the pavement and there were cracks in the perma-crete where weeds had poked through. This was popularly known as Pimp Heaven-a favorite 'retirement' settlement for pimps, drug and arms dealers and smugglers. You name it, they were all here.

Jack took in the scenery as the jonnycab passed through until they came to an obviously industrial part of town. There were rows and rows of warehouses, with hangars dotted in between. The cab stopped in front of Xander's Shuttle Repair and Body Shop'. Jack got out and paid the driver. The trunk popped open and she collected her luggage. She waited until the skiff pulled off to approach the large hangar. There were ships everywhere, in various stages of repair. Engines and power cells lay strewn beside, under and in front of ships. A short, thick man stepped outside of what must have been the office to watch her. When she got to him, she smiled. He spoke first.

"You Jack?" he asked. Jack nodded.
"You Xander?" Jack placed her luggage on the ground to shake his hand.
"This way. Let me put those on a magno-cart. No point carrying them. We've got a bit of a walk." Jack stood back and let him place her bags on the cart and followed him as he walked at an easy pace around to the back of the hangar.
"Any idea where he is?" Xander asked.
"The Gelding System. There are a lot of desert planets in that system. And MINCO operates a lot of camps there. That's all I know, but it's a starting point." She replied. Xander shrugged.
"So, you might be gone for a long time." He guessed. They had come to an elevator. He pressed the only button; down.
"It's a possibility." She replied, taking a position beside him. The doors opened and they stepped in. It was a freight elevator, large with padded walls.
"You do understand that this is a loan, right?" he stressed. Jack smiled.
"It's more than I expected, but I really appreciate it. And yeah, I know. Bring it back or don't come back at all."
"OK, just so we understand each other. MINCO has a pretty tough security force. In fact, you might do better to think of it as a private fucking army." Xander warned, "The funny thing is, they never had one 'til you and your buddy took off three years ago. Now they're locked up like Fort Fucking Knox." Jack stayed quiet, she didn't really have anything to say. Her mind wandered back to those first days after escaping the prison camp.


Riddick was at the controls looking for a good place to land. The ground was clear of buildings, but it was uneven. Jack was strapped into the co-pilots' seat. The shuttle lightly touched down and Riddick powered down the engine. Jack fidgeted before unbuckling her harness. There was a cottage several hundred yards away. Jack could see it from where she sat. A lone figure stood in the lighted doorway. Peter Leland.
Imam had made her memorize his name and address years before, just in case he wasn't with her. She fought back tears remembering how she told him there was no need for her to memorize it. Riddick had left his seat and opened the hatch. He was standing on it, waiting for her to disembark. Slowly, Jack got up and climbed from her chair. When she was at the hatch, she waved at the man in the distance. He waved back. Jack turned to Riddick, not knowing what to say. She opened her mouth; then closed it. She held her arms up to express a point, but couldn't choose one. There were too many. Giving up, she rose on her toes and kissed him lightly on the jaw.
"Thank you. For everything." She didn't want him to leave. They had come so far and been through so much, she didn't feel comfortable without him somewhere in her vicinity. He hadn't said anything in return.
"Do you want some food, or something? " she offered, knowing he wouldn't. The shuttle was well stocked. Riddick remained mute.
"Then I guess I'll see you around, huh?" she ventured. She stared at him, willing him to say something. She stifled her disappointment and started down the ramp, unwilling to actually say goodbye. Riddick caught her hand, and pulled her back. Snatching her around to face him, he looked torn. Seeming to make up his mind he kissed her, lightly touching his lips to hers, then buried his nose in her neck inhaling deeply, memorizing her scent. He pulled back, sporting a sardonic grin.
"Maybe when you're older." He said. Then he let her go. Jack stumbled backwards down the hatch and away from the ship. Riddick closed the hatch. A few seconds later, the engines screamed to life. Jack walked a little farther away, to avoid the thrusters. When she turned back around, he was lifting off. She watched the ship cut upwards into the stratosphere until she couldn't see it anymore. Then she turned and headed for the cottage.


When Jack came back to the present, they were in an underground hallway. Apparently Xander had noticed she had zoned out-he wasn't talking anymore.
"I'm sorry. I totally spaced. Where are we going?" she asked. Xander chuckled.
"We're here." He replied. He opened a hatch with a key card and stepped through; she followed him into a small hangar. There was only one ship. And it was awesome.
"I'd like to introduce you to a good friend of mine; the ASMC Lander Class Personnel Carrier. I call her Bitch." He strolled to the ship and lovingly patted it lightly on the side.
"She's got two front mounted rapid fire EM guns and one plasma cannon. Her outer hull is a transparent plexi-steel and aluminum alloy, so she's practically invisible to any sort of tracking or detection. Her inner-hull is several layers of reinforced titanium between layers of transparent steel. You couldn't put a whole in her if you fired point blank with a missile." He was beaming with pride. Jack was slack jawed.
"This is covert ops shit, isn't it?" she whispered. Xander shook his head, 'yes'. She mouthed an 'oh' and got closer. From a distance it like velvet. Up close she could see the exterior was actually stubbly.
"How'd you get it?" she asked. Xander pulled up his shirtsleeve to reveal a tattoo; two swords through a skull over a bleeding heart.
"You were special forces?" Jack could hardly contain her excitement. She felt like a kid, excited over her first bike.
"I'm afraid that's classified information, ma'am." He drawled, in a mock official voice. Jack burst out laughing.
"Fuck. And you're lending this to me?"
"Hey, my dad was Marine Corps too, in case you forgot. He didn't live to repay the debt to your father, but I'm still here."
"Code of honor, or something?"
"Yeah, something like that." He answered, with easy pride. "Come on, let's get you on board. You've got a lot to learn." He laid his hand on an ID panel. A large hatch opened and a ramp folded out from underneath. She followed him into the ship. Fastened to the wall, was a commendation from the Marine Corps to his father. Below was a row of medals. The last time she had seen those, she had been in his fathers' house, drinking tea.

"Are you Peter Leland?" She asked when she got to the door. When he smiled and nodded in the affirmative, she extended her hand. "I'm Jack. I'm sorry to come with such short notice." They shook hands and he led her inside.

They had spent most of the night talking about Imam. How he and Peter had come to know each other, how Imam had saved his life from an oncoming Freight Skiff and their life long friendship. Peter had been wondering why he hadn't heard from Imam in so long. Jack tearfully described their narrow escape from the flesh eating creatures, Riddick, and how they had inadvertnetly found themselves trapped as prisoners at MINCO. She could barely choke out the words when she told him Imam was stil there. She had felt so ashamed. If she had been a stronger person, she would have forced him to come. Peter offered tissues and tried to soother her nerves. The sun was above the horizon when Peter said he could think of a way to get Imam out. By the time he had breakfast ready, he had given Jack the first outline of a possible plan, and the name of his son: Xander Leland.


If only they had known then that it would be five years before any of it came to pass. Peter had died two years ago. Jack shook off the memory and helped Xander stow her gear over head and followed him into the cockpit.

"This baby flies pretty much like your standard shuttle. I've marked a few controls you're probably not familiar with." Jack settled in and learned basic military navigation, and how to use the four sets of thrusters to move about when under enemy fire. She learned how to use the EM guns and the cannon. She listened closely as Xander explained how to jam radar, and rig the ship for 'silent running' to evade more sophisticated methods of detection. They were in the cockpit for five hours, until Jack had it all memorized. Even still, he gave her a cheat sheet to go over. That done, they went back into the body of the vessel and he showed her where the lavatory was. He had installed that himself. In the back was a small cabin that housed two cots. He had also installed those as well. He pointed to the medical supply closet, and food storage. He had installed refrigeration.
Pulling her to the side, he pressed a panel hidden beneath a seat and the floor to open up a cavernous storage space. The perfect place to hide questionable cargo. It was a smuggler's dream. Xander programmed the hand ID to accept her palm, and then taught her how to set the automatice booby traps. Closing the hatch, they left the hangar the same way they had come. He snapped his fingers.
"Two things; you're gonna have to wait 'til nightfall to take off, and she's not armed. You're gonna need artillery. Power cells for the rail gun'll be easy enough, but I only know of one guy that's got plasma bursts. I preprogrammed his location so all you have to do is take off, and the ship'll do the rest 'til you get the hang of it." he explained. Jack absorbed it all. Emerging from the subterranean hangar, Xander led Jack to a skiff in front of the shop. He opened his mouth to say something, but his eyes caught sight of something in the sky. Jack turned to see what it was. Squinting in the sunlight, her stomach fell when she read the insignia on the ships approaching at high speed: NSP Police.
"SHIT!" Jack shreiked. "What do we do?" Xander started running; Jack followed him. He shouted to her over his shoulder.
"Get ready for a fight. These guys aren't here to make arrests. If you're packin' somethin', I suggest you unwrap it." He produced an assault rifle while his mechanics were running in every direction, grabbing their own weapons, taking positions behind anything that would offer cover.
"You can't shoot 'til they land and they're out on the ground. The only things that'll punch through those hulls are EM rounds. And I'm sorry to say, we don't have any!" he said, as he grabbed a stack of of cartridges and dove for cover as the first bullets streaked into the garage. Jack ducked. Pulling out her gun, Jack peeked over the edge of an empty storage container and fired at a section of hull resting beside the farthes ship. The rounds went clean through! Three officers crumpled as the dura-steel collapsed from the breach. Jack ducked again as a hail of bullets whizzed over her head. Xander stopped shooting long enough to give a hand signal to two mechanics hiding behind the heavy walls of a oxygen-analyzer. One nodded and tapped the other on the shoulder to pass the message. Xander waited until both men turned to confirm his message before moving again.
"Now, when I give the signal, you run...fast as you can for that door. It'll...take you down a flight of stairs. Just follow the hallway...back to the hangar," his instructions were punctuated with short interruptions to exchange fire with the police when the bullets got too close.
"There's a lever on the outside of the door to open the ceiling. And whatever you do, don't forget about the booby traps, or the ship won't lift off. It won't even open!" He grunted as he jerked up to spray bullets at the nearest bulkhead; most of the gunfire aimed at them was coming from well-armed and well hidden policemen .
"You'll come out of the warehouse two buildings down. Head out goin' south," he continued as he reloaded. Jack rose up and squeezed off a couple of rounds to cover him. One officer went down like a bag of sand. The other limped back to cover. This time she had put the gun on C. No use running the power down. Armed with fresh ammo, Xander continued his instructions.
"You should miss any back up vehicles they send in, and it's gonna be tight. If I know these guys, they're' gonna come out with..." an explosion outside the near wall rocked the building all the way down to its' foundations. "...grenades." He finished. Jack couldn't speak at all, she just shook her head dumbly. Xander saw the look on her face and smiled.
"Don't worry. I used to do this for a living, remember? Hell, we haven't had this much fun in years!" he chuckled. Jack smiled, then frowned as something occurred to her.
"How will I know where to find you?" she asked.
"I'll find you. I want my fuckin' ship back. You take care of her. Good care." He reiterated. A bullet grazed his left shoulder, reminding him of the situation at hand. He returned volley and told Jack to get ready. Jack got on her haunches and watched as Xander gave the signal.
As if on cue in a musical, three men stood up and let loose a hail of gunfire, blanketing the entire front of the shop. Jack sprang forward, firing a few shots of her own as she ran until she got the door. She kicked it open and blew through it into a tunnel lit by ceiling panels. She ran until the tunnel merged into the hangar. Jack flew to the door and pulled the ceiling release lever. As the ceiling opened, she could see the empty warehouse above. She ran to the ship, pressed her hand firmly on the ID panel and disarmed the boobytraps. The door slid open and the ramp began to extend. Short on time, she hopped into the ship, closed the door and auto-stowed the ramp. It was only then that she reholstered her gun and plopped into the pilots' seat. She pushed the main power ingnition while she buckled her harness. A few seconds later, the ship was humming, ready to go. She lightly rested her hands on the thruster controls, just like Xander had taught her and eased the ship upwards. The warehouse doors were closed. She would have to fly through them.
Meanwhile, Xander and his men were falling back. One by one, they were disappearing through a back door hidden from view by a wall mounted Hull strengthener. The officers had grown bold, realizing they would be stuck in a standoff until help arrived, and that was exactly what they didn't want. Xander waited until the last man had slipped through the back door before he threw several of grenades and backed out himself.
Jack was startled by a series of explosions as they rocked the building around her. She didn't know if the police were getting closer, or if Xander was trying to hold them back. She had finally mastered the thrusters, managing to turn the ship around to face the warehouse doors. Increasing power, she shot forward, crashing through the imense doors, sending sections of steel and shards of glass blasting outward as the powerful ship swept through it like so much dust. She turned the nose up and headed for the atmosphere. She glimpsed around trying to see what was happening on the ground. Only her peripheral vision caught sight of another ship coming up beside her as she sped for open space. She was momentarily frightened as it drew near, until she saw Xanders' face. He gave the thumbs up, and then veered off in another direction. From this point forward, she would be alone.


Several days later and two systems away, a fugitive sat in front of a computer searching through the Caribbean System Police Department Database, CSPD.D. It was a long tedious task, requiring patience and a lot of time. Finally locating the massive WANTED file, he opened it. Several long moments passed before he found the 'wanted for murder' files. It took another half hour to locate the master APB file. He easily skipped through the alphabet until he got to his name, and pulled up the dossier.
The last entry for him was dated one year prior, in the Tangiers System. He winced; He had been careless; half-heartedly searching for someone based solely on a first name. He exited the APB database, and in a fit of curiosity opened the New Incident Reports. Faces and dates sped across the screen in rapid succession: Some he recognize, most he didn't. One face however, practically jumped off the screen. He stared at it for a moment before glancing at the name:

J. Liszka...Nope, didn't ring a bell. But he knew this woman.

NAME: J. Liszka

GENDER: FEMALE

RACE: CAUCASIAN

STATUS: Married

REPORTED MISSING: Cronus Cruise Lines 4/25/AABDX

WARRANT FOR ARREST ISSUED: Grand Larceny; Emergency Shuttle Theft

INCIDENT REPORT::
Suspect dissapeared with shuttle days before eluding apprehension during New Sao Paolo Police Raid of Xanders' Repair And Body Shop. Killed several officers during said raid. 4/27/AABDX (Index 5.1A-r3445, Federal Section)

WEAPONS PROFILE:
Possession of Special Forces Issue Class 2 EM Side Arm confirmed.

ADDITIONAL TACTICAL NOTE:
Suspect is considered armed and extremely dangerous.

APPROACH WITH EXTREME CAUTION.

Riddick continued to stare at the picture. He focused on the eyes for a long moment until he suddenly recognized the brown eyes staring back at him. He threw his head back and laughed; it was Jack.


Part 4

James Liszka strolled home in the morning sunlight. Anisha was packing for a gig in Delhi, and wouldn't be back for several weeks. Jack wasn't due home for another day. Plenty of time to make the house look as though he had been there the whole time. He stopped and bought a few pastries, needing a boost of energy after the previous nights' activities. Anisha was what one would describe as a 'vixen'. He pressed his hand to the front door to unlock it, only to find it wasn't locked. Immediately on guard, he stepped back as the door opened. Leaning forwad, he was stunned out of his senses to find two members of the Serengeti Federal Bureau Of Investigations waiting coolly in his living room. They waved their badges and told him to come in and shut the door. James quietly complied.

Riddick was shaving his head. Clean clothes lay neatly folded on the narrow bed he had rented for the night. He went over the facts he knew, in an attempt to figure out where Jack was going. She had stolen a shuttle from a cruiser near New Jamaica. She had reappeared in New Sao Paolo, sporting an EM gun, and left in a ship. Think, dammit think he thought. He rinsed the shiv under running water and brought it back to his scalp.
New Jamaica was known for a lot of things, but the first features that came to his mind were chop shops. Shuttle parts were worth more than the vessel whole. So Jack had sold the ship, which meant she had needed a lot of money:
Money for what? Who did she know in the biz? He guessed her husband, or one of his cronies. At any rate, she had gone to Xanders' Repair shop; a 'repair' shop that was raided by the NSP Police. The file had mentioned the owner: Xander Leland, ex-military, with a side note for black ops. Most of the known staff was also ex-military. Police only raided businesses they guessed were fronts for alterior motives. So Xanders' was a chop shop too. What did Jack need there? Why would she dump one ship to get another one? Why not keep the one she had?
Scalp smooth, Riddick stuck his head under the stream of water to rinse away any loose shavelings. He stepped into the shower and lathered with the soft soap while he pursued Jack in his mind.

Back in Serengeti, Jack was too stunned to speak. He couldn't believe what he was hearing.
"Mr. Liszka? We're not here for you. At least at this point, we're not. Look, we know your wife was in New Jamaica. We know she was in New Sao Paolo. She's armed with a rail gun, for Christ's sake. Now, what would she need with that?" Special Agent Al Grossman was seated across from James, leaning forward, as if sharing confidential information. James was immobile, trying to understand it himself.
"You say she killed some people?" he asked, not willing to believe. He had never figured her as incapable of such a thing: Just not that stupid.
"Five officers. This is a very serious matter, James. You don't mind if I call you James, do you?" Grossman asked. James nodded. Grossman continued.
"Every police department in that system is gonna be looking for her now, with orders to shoot on sight. We need to get to her first. If for no other reason than to save her life." Grossman pointed out. James smirked and shrugged.
"Save it for what? You know as well as I do she's looking at the death sentence. You just gave me the perfect reason not to help you." James snapped. Claming himslef, he spoke in an even tone.
"Look, honest to God, I don't know. She left here a week ago to go on vacation. We haven't been getting long over the past year and we decided maybe some time away from each other might help. I've got the brochures right here. It was all she talked about for weeks." James explained. Grossman didn't look convinced. James tried another tack.
"I'm her husband, and this is killing me. She probably didn't even mean to kill anyone. I know that sounds lame, but this is my wife we're talking about." James sighed, unable to go on. He felt like his whole life was going down the drain. He didn't know what to be sorrier for; the business he would have to temporarily close, or Jacks' situation. A dull fear was setting in. Maybe he shouldn't have let her go, or at the very least gone with her. Either way, she never would have killed anyone had he been there. She had always been a little reckless, like she thought she was invincible. He rubbed his temples to soothe the fierce headache that was only getting worse.
"I can give you one name; Roseanne Taylor on New Jamaica. But it's heavily guarded by a local cartel. You go in, you go in with lots of backup. They run half of that system, and they have the numbers to keep it that way. That's the only person I can possibly think of that would have taken the shuttle off her hands. Other than that, I don't believe this is happening. Just, don't shoot her. Don't bring her back in a body bag, do I get to make that request?" he asked, tired all over again. He looked at the bag of sweets he had brought home, no longer hungry.
Grossman was making notes in his data pad. The other agent, who had remained silent through the entire interview got up to leave. Grossman put his pad away and stood as well. James remained seated.
"Here's my comm card," Grossman extended it to James. "You think of anything else, you give us a call first. And I don't have to tell you to stay in town. We may need you for further questioning." Grossman said over his shoulder as they showed themselves out. James laid his head back on the sofa.

Outside, Grossman looked at his partner.
"You believe him?" he asked. His partner, Andrew Millner shook his head reluctantly.
"He seemd genuinely shocked. I don't think he knew anything about it. His incoming messages hadn't been read. He's probably been gone for most of the week." Millner concluded.
"Girlfriend, you think?" Grossman ventured. Millner shook his head.
"Most definitely. The wife that he's not getting along with is gone for ten whole days. The perfect opportunity to go see the other woman." He confirmed. Grossman cleared his throat.
"And he did give us a name. This doesn't smell right. Whatever she's up to, it doesn't have anything to do with him, other than his list of contacts. She's using them for some other purpose. We just have to figure out what it is."

Riddick had stepped out of the shower. He dried himself off and threw the towel to the bed. He went over the reports he had read in his mind:

Initial flybys had detected no heat signatures, other than what was necessary to run a body shop. Jacks' ship had come from 'no where'; most likely an underground hangar. Now, what would Xander need with a hidden hangar? He and his fellow ex-special forces buddies wouldn't really need to worry about theft. Someplace to hide a vessel until it could be chopped up and resold? Not likely; they had two hangars above ground for that. Why hide a ship underground? Overhead surveillance? Didn't make sense. As long as it wasn't powered up, they wouldn't pick it up anyway. Riddick made the following deductions:

· that secret object is probably personal, something you cherish

· If it's that good, you would normally have it on display somewhere, to give you 'rank' in that business;

· But Xander didn't want that. His 'official' pride and joy was an antigue US Airforce F-14 Tomcat. It was in the report; that made it common knowledge. So he collected planes, maybe ships too?

· It had to be a ship, if it was in a hangar

· the kind of ship not available to civilians. One not even commonly available in the military itself. Maybe something that doesn't officially exist.

During his short stint in the military he had seen a number of different ships: Transports, freighters; shuttles; bombers; fighters and personnel carriers. Riddick yanked his shirt down over his head, suddenly energized. Lander Class Personnel Carriers were one of the few ships in the fleet that were strictly for covert operations. Armed to the teeth, cast and virtually undetectable, they were the pride and joy of Covert Ops. Section One. Riddick tucked his shiv in his pants and slipped out of the seedy motel unseen. He knew where Jack was going. It was only a matter o beating her there. If she had any sense, she would wait until things cooled down before making her reappearnce. Hopefully, he had enough time.

Jack tossed and turned in her sleep. Images of Imam in grave danger plagued her dreams. Forcing herself awake, she slowly sat up and swung her feet to the floor. The cold metal on her feet soothed her nerves. Lingering desert images were crwoding in all around her. She wiped perpiration from her forehead and looked at the chronometer. She had been drifting in dark space; an area not unlike the Old Bermuda Triangle on Earth. There was a little or no light, and if one wasn't careful, they could find themselves lost forever. Xander had pre-programmed Dark Space coordinates, followed by the coordinates for her next stop. Reading her cheat sheet, she had put the ship in a holding pattern for six days. Every so often she would alter her position, to lessen the likely hodd of being stumbled upon by an overzealous police patrol. Today was the third day, and she was somewhere between mind bending anxiety, and total boredom. She had done all kinds of calisthenics to rid herself of the excess energy. She had cleaned her clothes several times. She had evern read some of the books she had found under the cots. At regular intervals, she had listened to news reports. Her face was everywhere. So were the faces of the officers she had killed. The entire matter had been handed over to the Feds. Fuck. This was NOT part of her plan.

She stood up shakily, wandering into the lavatory. She hadn't showered in a week, and didn't care. Her hair hung in tangles, and her skin was grimy from old dirt and sweat. She paced the length of the ship, trying to calm herself. She didn't want to eat; the nausea had done that. There weren't pills strong enough to alleviate her headache without knocking her out completely, and she couldn't afford to fall into a drug induced sleep. As it was she was sleeping in two hour increments. Finally, she focused her mind and did something she hadn't done, or needed to do in years. She asked herself What would Riddick do?

James powered up his skiff and took off for Port Elizabeth. An old friend was giving him a lift to New Jamaica. If he was lucky, he would get there before the Feds.

Sandy Davidovich was sleepy. He hadn't had any sleep in more than thirty hours. Between waiting for his customer, finding a place for Xanders' men to hide and monitoring radio reports, he had been too tense to sleep. He was also keeping an eye on the Federal agents trying to blend in on the street outside of his shop. Ditching them would be a problem. Xander had stayed behind to offer any help that he could, which up to this point wasn' tmuch. He was stashed in a bunker beneath Sandys' house, miles away. Their biggest problem would be contact. Sandy hoped to God Jack wouldn't try to radio in. Jack was thinking the same thing. She knew she couldn't use the radio to announce her arrival. In fact, she was probably going to have to land somewhere and get a ride out with her cargo. Then she would have to find somewhere to land again just to arm the ship; she based this on the assumption that she wouldn't have time to get to her ship, arm ir and elude the Feds. An old tin of El Greco Shoe polish gave her an idea.

Riddick sat under the shade of a table umbrella sipping iced tea. He was on a balcony, several floors up from the main entrance to the hotel. It was a nice hotel, if only because it had balconies. Never mind that some of the railings were missing, and some of the tables, or chairs were missing. Windowpanes were cracked, the beds were lumpy and the carpet was dirty. But it gave him a hell of a view of the building that housed Sandy's General Store two blocks away. That in itself made it a great hotel. There were so many agents and police patrolling the arrival terminals where he landed, he had had to resort to a disguise. He had easily stolen a suitcase from an older woman scolding her near deaf husband. He had chosen her because her perfectly coiffed hair was obviously fake, meaning she was most likely carrying at least one more wig. He didn't like disguises but in this instance, it was necessary. He had made note of the federal agents stationed in the room below. He had specifically chosen this room to stay out of their view. If everything went perfectly, it would still be a tight squeeze finding Jack. At the right time, he would create a diversion and hopefully give Jack time to get away.