52. Jarvis: Never Pull A Gun Unless You Mean It

Silence had fallen in the street outside and numbness had settled over Lieutenant Reginald Jarvis. Just like the first time.

The first time.

His mind rolled back to that awful night, almost four and a half years earlier, replaying the terrible events...

It had been a bizarre coincidence that he'd actually already been on New Sacramento when Riddick triggered the Charybdis Trap for the second time. He had, in fact, been just about to leave the planet. He coordinated the manhunt from the spaceport itself, helping his troops, augmented by Planetary forces, as they combed the streets around the information kiosk Riddick had attempted to use.

Half an hour later they found the apartment where he'd been living. Jarvis had listened in disbelief as one of his soldiers described it. Two bedrooms; two beds. Both had been occupied. Short, wavy golden-brown hairs had been found on one of the pillows.

Riddick had a roomie? Jarvis shook his head in bemusement. An hour passed as he waited for further word.

It wasn't until the commotion broke out in the spaceport itself that Jarvis realized Riddick had come to him. He watched his quarry's flight on the security monitors, frowning as he observed the slim child being pulled along by one elbow. Who did Riddick have with him?

"Give me a listing of all outgoing flights along Riddick's current trajectory," he'd ordered. "Make it by departure time, earliest first."

The technician beside him hadn't argued but had efficiently produced a list for him. He'd grabbed his kit and headed out with his soldiers to the most logical interception point. They still almost didn't make it in time.

Riddick had passed the security terminal and entered the embarkation hallway before Jarvis and his troops caught up with him. He still had the kid in tow.

"Riddick!" Jarvis shouted. "Don't move!"

The two kept running. He fired a warning shot over their heads.

He was a half-level above them, looking down at them from a platform normally used by people waiting for loved ones to disembark from a space shuttle. He had an excellent view of both of them.

What happened next surprised him and gave him the first inkling that little Bryan might still exist. Riddick unslung one of the bags he carried and thrust it into the kid's hands, shoving the youth toward an emergency exit. Jarvis could hear the one word he shouted.

"Go!"

The child staggered for a moment as Riddick increased his pace, zig-zagging his movements as he sprinted for the airlock at the end of the hallway.

He's lost his hostage, Jarvis thought, putting his eye to the gun's scope and tracking Riddick. I can take him. Wing him in the leg...

It would do no lasting damage, he knew. Riddick would heal from this bullet-wound every bit as well as he'd healed from the one Anthony Johns had given him one night more than four years earlier. That one had passed through Riddick's lung, according to the forensics team. A wound to one leg would be nothing compared to that...

He tracked his quarry, locking onto the outside of one thigh. Riddick jerked to the right and he followed with the gun, getting a feel for the asymmetrical rhythm of evasive maneuvers the man was using. Now he had him.

His finger squeezed the trigger.

Just as the gun went off his scope went dark as something moved between it and Riddick. Jarvis gasped, jerking his head up in time to watch the child, suddenly in the bullet's path, stumble forward and land on hands and knees. Blood sprayed everywhere.

Oh my god... The temperature around Jarvis had suddenly dropped to absolute zero. He watched in horror as the child attempted to rise, hands automatically reaching up to clutch at the gory, gaping wound his bullet had left in a small torso.

Reginald Jarvis's rifle dropped from his nerveless fingers.

As the child fell again, first to his knees and then toppling over the rest of the way, Jarvis saw Riddick's face. It was the last time he ever saw it, and the expression on it burned itself indelibly into him. Such pain and anguish. He watched as Riddick lunged forward, clawing at the airlock doors which were already two-thirds of the way closed. Was he trying to get back through? Reach the child?

As the doors slammed shut he thought he heard an animal howl of anguish and rage. It sounded like a name: "Jaaaack!"

Jarvis raced down to the lower level and into the tunnel, barely able to feel his legs, hurrying over to the boy Jack's side.

The unit's medic was already kneeling beside the child. Jarvis stared down at the still, pale face with its delicate features. This boy couldn't possibly be more than thirteen, fourteen at the oldest...

"We need to get him into ICU, sir," the medic said shakily as she continued running scans. "Shit... her, sir."

"Her?"

"Scans verify it. She's female. But she won't be anything much longer if we don't get her on a machine."

The station paramedics raced over, joining her, and Jarvis stepped back. Together, they worked on stabilizing the girl and preparing her for transport to a hospital. Jarvis sank back down against a wall, still numb. He'd shot a child. He'd shot a child!

His shaking hands reached over and picked up the bag she'd dropped, examining it. Inside were a few items of clothing and several small trinkets. A shiv, carved to fit a small hand, was among them.

Riddick made this for you, he thought distractedly, his mind going back over the tormented expression on Riddick's face, the anguished cry he'd heard as the airlock closed. What were you to him?

Other items in the bag made no sense to him. A small string of Muslim prayer beads. Carefully-trimmed pieces of old-style hull-patch cloth for a skiff, the names "Carolyn Fry," "Paris P. Ogilvie" and "Sharon Ezekiel" ornately written upon them. Finally, deep within the bag, a marshal badge with the name "William Johns" stamped on it.

As the girl was wheeled out of the hallway, Jarvis glanced at the bag one more time, noticing for the first time the words, written in a childish scrawl, on the side:

Serial Hag

This girl had known exactly who she was traveling with, he realized. That didn't make things any better, of course. She was still just a child.

Only the fact that the shooting had taken place at 3 a.m. local time enabled the Tribunal to keep it quiet. When word did begin to circulate, the story had been carefully shaped. Every phrase implied that there had been a gun battle, Riddick shooting back at the Special Forces troops, and that the downed girl had been caught in the crossfire. Although they never said it outright, so as not to perjure themselves, the Special Forces spokespeople were careful to imply that she'd been felled by one of Riddick's bullets.

And Jarvis spent the next month waking up in cold sweats as he dreamed over and over and over of shooting the poor girl. Just as the nightmares began to recede, new ones dawned. Riddick had infiltrated one of the most secure training facilities Special Forces had, and massacred twelve of Jarvis's hand-picked cadets in retaliation.

No matter how much he blamed himself, though, nobody on the Board blamed him. It might have been easier if they had. The Tribunal cleared him, not seeming to care that a teenaged girl had almost died by his hand. But Jarvis cared. He spent a month trying to reach the girl before he became resigned to the fact that she would forever consider him her enemy. He did everything in his power to make sure that she'd have a safe, secure future. Her suggestions regarding his efforts were astonishingly profane.

Dammit, he'd thought after one of their sessions, as he'd left the ward still scorched from her blistering invective, I never meant to hurt you, Audrey! I was only trying to wing him!

"Sir, I was just trying to wing her--"

"Shut the fuck up, Corporal." Jarvis raced down the library stairs two at a time, his troops following him.

"But Sir--"

"You're already facing a court-martial for disobeying a direct order and shooting an unarmed civilian. Don't add insubordination to the list of your crimes, you stupid fuck!"

"That unarmed civilian attacked you and broke into classified files!" The man's voice was filled with indignant protest.

"And in response, against my express orders, you shot Jack Kowalczyk!" Jarvis hit the third floor landing at a run and started down the next flight of stairs.

"Sir, Jack Kowalczyk is dead!" the corporal protested, still trying to catch up to him.

"If she is, Corporal, it's because you killed her."

"I was just trying to w--" He stopped abruptly was Jarvis whirled on him.

"Don't say it. Do not fucking say it. Let me tell you what the next twenty-four hours of your life are going to be like, Corporal. If she's dead, assuming Riddick doesn't kill every last one of us, of course, you're going to be thrown in the brig where you will remain until you are brought to trial. And I promise you right now that the result of that trial will be that you'll spend the rest of your natural life playing prison guard to the worst scum Nereid has to offer. Do you understand me?"

The corporal paled. He swallowed sharply, staring at his infuriated commanding officer as if Jarvis had sprouted horns, fangs and shined eyes.

"Well?" Jarvis thundered.

"I get you Sir!" he shouted, snapping to abrupt attention.

"Good!" Jarvis turned and began racing down the stairs again, aware that the corporal was keeping pace with him, not daring to lag. "You'd better pray to any gods you happen to believe in that she's alive. You shot your career down the toilet today, Corporal, but if she survived that gunshot you might have a chance of seeing daylight again."

He hit the second floor landing and kept going.

He couldn't say what he really felt, of course. There was no way to express it, to explain it, not to any of this trigger-happy rescue unit. They seemed to have no inkling of the profound tragedy that might have just taken place. They certainly had no understanding at all of the fierce joy and admiration he'd felt for Jack, his delight at her wiliness, grace and courage, and the sheer fact that she was alive...

...And now might be no more.

He might just kill the Corporal himself if that was the case.

"I want a fucking medic here immediately," he ordered as he hit the first floor and raced for the main doors. "Somebody make a call to the Messina and alert our team of spin-doctors, too. It's going to take every bit of finesse to get us out of this fiasco. Order a full media blackout until further notice."

"Yes, Sir," came a lightly-accented woman's voice from behind him. Good, at least he had one person who could follow orders.

He stiff-armed his way through the doors and raced down the stone steps, hitting the pavement. An eerie hush had settled over the street. He approached Jack's still form at a run and dropped to his knees beside her.

Please don't be dead, oh god, please don't be dead...

She was lying on her stomach, her arms splayed haphazardly away from her body. The dropped bag of disks still lay by her right hand. He couldn't see any sign that she was breathing. Pain lanced through him at that, stabbing at his vitals.

Blood was pooled by her right side. How badly had she been hit? Was she dead?

Oh god, don't let her be dead...

Gently, carefully, he turned her over onto her back.

He had a momentary glimpse of the tear in her shirt, its edges soaked in blood, before a hand clamped vise-like onto his throat. Jack Kowalczyk's eyes opened up below him. She'd relieved him of his pistol before he'd realized what was happening and had it pointed at his face.

Using her grip on his throat to pull herself upward, she grimaced in pain. She brandished the gun a little, waving it in his face. "Help me up."

He was shaking. He realized it as he gently gripped her upper arms and helped her rise. She was shaking, too.

"Jack, are you alrigh--"

"Shut up!" Her pain-maddened eyes flicked past him even as he heard the sound of safety catches disengaging. "Tell your people to drop their weapons or I'll use your corpse as a shield."

He gave her a sad look. The threat wasn't necessary. He was on her side, here. Of course, after more than four years she still wouldn't believe that, would she? The Project's track record regarding her was a shameful list of fuckup after fuckup.

He pitched his voice for his soldiers. "Everyone stand down and drop your weapons. Immediately."

"But Sir--" That fucking corporal again! Despite Jack's grip on his throat, he wrenched his head around to look at them.

"Drop your fucking weapons or I'll shoot you myself!" he roared. "That's a direct order!"

Finally they were listening. They lowered their weapons.

"On the fucking ground, you idiots! Do I have to send the whole goddamned lot of you back to boot camp?" He'd once been a drill sergeant himself, and that was what they heard in his voice now. Any lingering ideas of disobedience fled and their weapons dropped to the ground.

The bag of disks was still on the ground. Jack glanced at it. "Pick that up."

They knelt together, Jack still gripping his throat and holding his gun on him. He lifted the bag and held it out to her, carefully.

He kept his voice soft. "Jack, you've been shot. At least let us get you some medical attention."

"I'll get it. Tell your flunkies to stay off my ass or they'll need it more than I will." Her soft green eyes, suddenly so hard, bored into his.

"He'll take care of you?"

"He always does unless you guys get in the way."

His voice dropped to a soft murmur. He spoke without moving his lips. "I'll keep them off of you. But you want to get off this planet fast, before someone with more authority countermands me. Tell him--"

Tell him what? he thought suddenly. What the hell did he want to say to Riddick? "Sorry about getting your woman shot... again?" That'd work really well...

Her face softened slightly and he wondered what she saw in his face that inspired it. "I'll tell him," she whispered. Her hand relaxed on his throat and she removed it, taking the bag of disks out of his grasp. Gun still trained on him, she took four steps back. She glanced over his shoulder, at the soldiers behind him, before she abruptly turned and began to run.

Jarvis watched her go. He could tell by the slight flaw in her gait that she had been struck by the bullet. He had no idea how badly.

Behind him, one of the soldiers bent down to retrieve his weapon.

"Belay that!" Jarvis barked. The soldier froze.

He reached into his jacket and pulled out his comm unit, opening it and activating it in one dexterous movement. Time to take out some insurance for the girl.

"Connect me to police dispatch. Official Tribunal business, code 17-C-145." He waited until the dispatcher came on. "You will probably be getting reports of an armed woman running down the streets of New Paris. Possibly carrying a gun, possibly injured. Inform all of your officers that they are not under any circumstances to interfere with her."

"Sir?" one of his soldiers queried from behind him, sounding bewildered.

"The only possible exception is if she becomes incapacitated by her injury. But even then they are not to approach her. Have them inform me directly of her location and I will deal with it personally."

He listened to the confirmation on the other end of the line and then broke the connection, punching in a new code.

"Sergeant Mizuguchi."

"Sergeant, Lieutenant Jarvis. You may be getting a report soon of a ship blasting off without clearance from one of the New Paris spaceports. Do not attempt to intercept it. Let it leave without any interference. Understood?"

He could hear the curiosity in her voice, but also her awareness that whatever this was about, it wasn't open to discussion or negotiation. "Yes, Sir."

"Lieutenant Jarvis out."

He folded up the comm unit and pocketed it, turning back to his troops.

"Well, that's one fuckup that's narrowly been averted."

The corporal whose career had already ended this day looked ready to explode. "But Sir! She has the disks!"

"Yes, Corporal, she does."

"But that means she has full disclosure!"

Jarvis finally got around to glancing at the name on the man's uniform. "Corporal Artkin, Audrey Jacqueline Kowalczyk already knows more about the Charybdis Project than you ever will. All she has now is confirmation of what she already knew."

"But she--"

"She is Riddick's Charybdis Mate. Your bullet almost permanently lost us any chance of ever recovering him for the Project. Surrender your weapons and clearances immediately, Corporal. Your days on the Project are over."

The man blanched, perhaps finally realizing exactly how much trouble he was in. His companions looked extremely uncomfortable as well.

Their sergeant stepped forward after a moment and saluted. "What now, Sir?"

"Now we wait." He wouldn't let any of them move out of this area, or communicate with the Messina, until he knew that Jack and Riddick had gotten off-planet.

The screams from the Board would be audible across space, he thought. Let them scream. He'd just saved their goddamned fucking project for them, although they might not have the brains to realize it. If Jack had died, he might just have helped Riddick burn it to the ground.

A sudden thought occurred to him. He frowned and pulled out his comm unit again, punching a code in.

"Sergeant Mizuguchi."

"Sergeant, Lieutenant Jarvis. I want our units on Seti Station to arrest the staff of the Station Coroner's Office, including any staff members who were on duty when Jack Kowalczyk's body was found, but no longer work there."

"On what charge, Sir?"

"Falsely reporting a death with the intent to perpetrate fraud upon the Tribunal."

"Whose death, Sir?"

"The death of Jack Kowalczyk. Order all records regarding her to be impounded, along with the body if it hasn't been destroyed. I will contact you shortly with more information."

He broke contact with Mizuguchi again and stared down the length of the Rue Mercredi, in the direction Jack had run. He hoped she would make it to Riddick safely.

He wondered, suddenly, what message she was going to give Riddick from him.

A moment later, he realized. He knew what the look in her eyes had meant, what she had seen in his.

I still love you, Bry, he thought, knowing it was the message she would take him. I miss you. Come home, soon.

He wondered, suddenly, if he would still be in charge of the Project when Riddick returned. The odds were not in his favor any more. When Riddick finally came home, Jarvis might well have met with an "accident" of his own.

Come home soon, boy. I'm running out of time.