15. Fiona: Rebellion

She could feel them staring at her as she picked up the glass. She could feel the weight of their disapproval, and felt the first stirrings of answering rebellion.

"Redheads and fiery tempers, Fee, m'dear," her father used to say. "Maggie's the firecracker, but you... you're a slow burner with a nitro-glycerine cap. She'll pop off, make some noise, but then it's over. God help anyone who actually makes you explode, girl."

God help them if they start trying to surrogate-parent me, she told herself. She'd seen the way they ordered Jack around, and she had no intention of taking it from them. At nineteen, she was well above the age of consent on all but the most reactionary of planets.

Deliberately, sweeping her gaze around to touch everyone, she moved her chair a few inches closer to Riddick. She heard Johns swear under his breath.

Imam was the one who broke the tension now. "I think we need to bring this out in the open. Before it starts to fester." His gaze focused on Johns. "Why don't you want Mr. Riddick near the skiff, Mr. Johns?"

It wasn't the question any of them expected him to ask. Fiona was favorably impressed with the cleric's tact.

16. Riddick: A Word Or Two About Secrets

He couldn't help himself. He had to know what asinine excuse Johns would come up with to cover this.

"I already discussed this with our Captain," Johns growled, glancing at Fry. The said Captain looked extremely peeved.

"I wouldn't call it a discussion, Johns. More like orders. Bad ones."

It was time. "That's an interesting badge you have, Johns," Riddick said pleasantly. "We're probably all curious to know what your jurisdiction is. 'Specially if your can order our Captain around."

His question hung in the air, unanswered, while Johns' face began to redden with fury.

Riddick glanced over at Fiona. Reaching to the center of the table, he retrieved another ration pack, then took her hand. He had another, bigger problem to deal with, right now. He pulled her up gently.

"I'll let you work all of that out yourselves. We're going to get an early start, doing some scavenging." He swept them with his masked gaze. "Don't worry. I'll stay far away from the skiff."

He led Fiona back out of the room. At the door, he turned back for a moment. They were watching him in nervous silence.

"Secrets aren't gonna keep long, here. You'd best start thinking about that."

17. Fiona: Forty Hours and Counting

"You didn't eat anything."

Fiona looked over at Riddick, where he was leaning against the counter of the kitchenette they were ransacking. "Sorry?"

His goggled eyes speared into hers. "You haven't eaten anything since the crash. Have you?"

The question took her by surprise. "I guess I haven't been hungry."

"It's been almost forty hours. Give me a better excuse." He stayed still, head cocked, watching her, waiting.

Slowly, Fiona sank to the cheap linoleum floor, the full impact of his comment registering. She hadn't even noticed. The others had stopped to eat during their tasks, but she never had. Not once. Suddenly she could feel exactly how empty her stomach was.

"Honestly, I didn't even realize."

He stepped over and knelt down beside her, then drew out the ration pouch from his pocket. "I thought you didn't. So I brought you this." He began to unwrap the contents. "Lucky you, waffles with preservatives. Yum."

Her throat closed. "I don't want it."

"You don't have a choice," he told her sternly. "Now, if I have to, I will force-feed you. Or we can get the others involved, if you'd prefer. But you're going to eat." He held out a waffle. "The only question is, are you going to do it yourself, or do I sit on you and make you do it?"

Fiona forced herself to reach out and take the waffle from his hand. As she took the first dry, tasteless bite, he unscrewed the top to their canteen. She forced herself to swallow.

"You'll probably want a mouthful of this, now," he suggested, holding out the canteen. Gratefully she took it, swallowed some water, and then returned to choking down the waffle.

"This is horrible. It tastes like plaster." She glanced up at him. His expression was calm and implacable.

"Keep eating."

Slowly, tortuously, she forced down the waffles. He let her drink as much water as she wanted, at least, and she needed it all. The awful things were sponges, sucking any moisture out of her mouth before trying to choke her on their way down.

Finally the packet was empty. Fiona sat still for a long moment, feeling queasy. She could feel Riddick's eyes on her. She took a last gulp of water and wiped at her mouth.

"Good girl," he told her, taking her hand. The spasms hit a second later, doubling her up.