Prologue

He still hadn't gotten used to the feeling of someone sleeping next to him. Sure, she was just a kid, and there was nothing between him, but he was always edgy. Always on alert. He'd been like that for as long as he could remember. Granted, he couldn't remember what life was like before Slam, or even before the shine job. But still. There was being alert and being edgy.

This was edgy. Getting close enough to someone to turn his back on them while he slept wasn't something he thought he could get used to easily. Even if it was her. Even though she idolized him and he knew she would never do anything to hurt him. Not intentionally anyway.

            She had a good head on her shoulders, he had to give her that. But she was still just a kid. And kids make mistakes. Inadvertent mistakes, but mistakes all the same. He was just waiting for the moment she got careless and a pack of mercs broke down the door to their little studio apartment in the slums.

            He felt bad about making her live here, but he felt comfortable here. This was his element – trouble around every corner. It made him stay the way he was. It made him stay who he was. He remembered. But he still felt guilty about making her live in this shithole, felt guilty for risking her life for his comfort zone, felt guilty for bringing her along and risking her life just being near him, even if it was what she wanted.

            He sighed heavily, and tensed as she shifted and pressed her back closer to his. His brow furrowed. Even in her sleep, she was nervous. He had no right to bring her here, take the chance on someone hurting her just for being associated with him, take the chance on getting too close and hurting her himself. That's when he made his decision.

***

            Jack stared up at the stars, wondering which planet out there Riddick had settled down on. She still hurt, but he had good reason to leave her. He'd explained it all to her, gave her a ton of money (or so she thought – she quickly learned that money doesn't last long), and bought her a one-way ticket to a nice, safe planet. She was lonelier than she'd ever been, even after her parents died.

            "What the hell was I thinking, anyway?" She asked herself. No answer was granted her, and she just shook her head, pulling her knees in tighter to her chest. Her ass was going numb from sitting on the windowsill so long, but she didn't care. It was as though the closer she was to the stars, the closer she was to him. She'd been thinking they would go off together, fall in love, and live happily ever after hopping from planet to planet, barely escaping danger, but still together forever. She knew it was sappy and stupid, but sometimes she hoped he'd come back for just that reason. She couldn't honestly say what she would really do if he mysteriously tracked her down and showed up on her doorstep, but she could dream. And dreams were so much better than real life sometimes.

            She'd gotten a job in a mechanic's shop as an apprentice. It was what she thought Riddick would have wanted her to do – keep her cover and lead an inconspicuous life. She still masqueraded as a male, and thanked her genes that she turned out to be a slight bloomer and not just a late one. She still had to bind her chest – not so tightly that she couldn't breathe, thank God for that – and she'd gotten used to the constricting feeling of the wraps. She didn't date, since she'd have to date girls to keep her cover going, so she just engrossed herself in her work. Work that, in actuality, was so hard and physical that her body started looking more and more male – muscular, toned arms and legs, a flat, toned stomach. To the casual glance, she was male. Even a girl checking her out in a bar would have trouble discerning between the very built female she'd become and the thin but toned male she was pretending to be.

            Life was monotonous and boring, but at least she was alive. She still suffered through horrible nightmares, thrashing around on her bed and tangling the covers, only to wake to a dimmed, empty room, wishing Riddick was there by her side to swat at her and gruff at her to go back to sleep, that it was only a dream.

            She hadn't stayed on the planet he'd sent her to. It wasn't that she didn't like it. More like she didn't want to embrace the comfortable life he'd tried so hard to give her. She'd wanted to go to Earth – she'd heard numerous stories about it – but there was currently a serious, worldwide war going on there, and all passage and entrance was heavily monitored and prohibited to common folk. The only people allowed there were convicts, for punishment, and military, for reinforcement when needed by the accepted party. Instead, she'd settled for Kallipolis, a similar planet fashioned after the wishes of the ancient philosopher Plato. Granted, the government hadn't remained the way it began, the way Plato had set forth in The Republic, but it was relatively safe, and heavily stressed equality. Not like she'd need an equal sexes clause, parading around as a male. She'd gone there because it was the last place he'd look for her. The last place he would have wanted her to go. In a way, she dreamed of the day he'd come waltzing back into her life, but at the same time, she was terrified of that moment. A strange dichotomy, but one she'd come to accept and embrace.

Chapter 1

            "Hey, Marty," Jack said with little enthusiasm as she dropped her toolbox on the ground next to her locker. The garage was large enough for them to have their own lockers, in case they needed to change after work. Around the corner was a public shower, which she never used, fearing someone would walk in and discover her secret.

            "Hey, Jack," Marty returned, giving her the usual nod only men can pull off. She let a small smile curve her lips. "Got a long list of shit to work on today," he grunted, nodding at the hologram board, on which was scribbled six or seven jobs that would be coming in before lunch and expected to be finished by the end of the day. She sighed heavily. "We're gonna have you work on the smaller stuff on your own." She perked up at that.

            "Really?"

            "Yeah," Marty said quietly, wiping grease off his hands on an already greasy towel. He succeeded in smearing it around, but not really cleaning anything. "We don't have the manpower to have you sitting in on the bigger stuff today. You'll get the first two. Gotta have them done by six, understand?" She nodded, glancing over the virtual work orders quickly. Nothing major. One tune-up and a carburetor rebuild. No biggie.

            "Yeah, I can handle that. Probably get it done before four," she said.

            "Don't overestimate yourself," Marty warned. She grinned.

            "Don't underestimate myself, either, right?" He snickered and nodded. She'd come to like Marty. He was hard to please at first, but she'd eventually gotten him to loosen up. Hell, they'd even gone out for beers after work on occasion.

            She'd learned from Riddick not to let anyone get too close. She hadn't yet, and wasn't about to now. She'd come too far to let anyone in. She was afraid of being hurt – again – and afraid of someone turning on her. The only way someone can truly turn on you is by getting close enough to know your weaknesses.

            At noon, she'd just gotten back from her lunch break, which consisted of a cucumber sandwich and what she called "green juice," after its color. It was a blend of green vegetables and fruits. A healthy and surprisingly tasty side to a boring sandwich. After a quick smoke, she crawled back under the hood of her first project to finish the last of the tune up.

            The shuffling of feet didn't surprise her; it was a busy garage and the absence of shuffling feet would have been unusual enough to get nervous over. It was the voice that made her freeze, save the slight trembling, and almost drop a socket wrench on her forehead. It fell to a clatter on the floor after she managed to deflect its fall.

            "Jesus fuckin' Christ!" She grunted, shifting to snatch it back up.

            "Everything okay down there?" She heard Jeffrey ask.

            "Nearly punched a hole in my forehead with this God damn socket wrench, but yeah, I didn't break anything." She heard him laugh lightly and let her hand snake around the inside of the tire to flip him off, only making him laugh harder. She pretended to go back to work, listening in to the conversation happening above her.

            "So you're looking for a mechanic, huh?" Jeff asked. No answer from the other man. She supposed he just nodded. "Well, uh, most of our guys have been around here for a while. Don't think they'd really be up for leaving," Jeff continued.

            "No females?" She shuddered at the voice.

            "Nah. It's not like we wouldn't hire them because of it, they either just don't stick around very long or don't want to be here in the first place," Jeff said. Hah, Jack thought, that's what you think. She considered six months a lot longer than the "very long" Jeff was referring to. The mystery man grunted, seemingly frustrated.

            "No offense," he said, "but I wasn't really looking for someone really established."

            "What were you looking for?" She heard Marty chime in from under the truck next to her. She smirked. He was protective of his crew. Identities, employment… just plain protective in general.

            "Someone new," came the reply. "Someone I can train."

            "Well, everyone here has been trained already," Marty interjected, rolling out from under his project to sit up and talk to the man face-to-face.

            "I'm not trying to steal your crew, Marty," the man said. "I'm just putting out the word that I have an opening for a mechanic on a new ship – a ship that needs a lot of work before I can start my runs, by the way – and wondered if anyone here wanted a chance at something new for a while." Jack screwed all her courage together.

            "What kind of 'a lot of work' are we talking here?" she asked, still working on her project.

            "Stay out of this, Jack," she heard Marty warn. She smirked.

            "I'm out of it," she returned, breaking into a wide grin at the grunt of satisfaction she received from Marty.

            "Electrical, mostly. Some engine work, some programming, some superficial repair. Nothing anyone here couldn't handle," came the answer to her question.

            An unsettling pause came over the bunch. The lack of sound making everyone in the room uncomfortable. Feet shuffled, and she relaxed a little.

            "Well," the man said, "I'll leave a phone number here, in case you get anyone asking for work you can't use."

            "If I can't use him, you can't either," Jeff said, a cocky smile in his voice.

            "Don't be an ass, Jeff," Jack groaned.

            "It's my middle name."

            "Yeah, your mom musta been psycho or something," Jack said with a smile. "Oh, no… wait. That's psychic, right?" She dodged the bolt he bounced off the floor and under the vehicle she was lying under.

            "You'll fix this if you fuck it up, Jeff," she warned.

            "Well, in case you change your mind, here's my number," the man finished, handing a sliver of paper to Jeff. She watched his feet move across the floor and out the garage door before sliding out from under the car.

            "What's the deal, Marty?" She asked.

            "Don't have a good feeling about him," he shrugged.

            "Is it that or you just don't want to lose your best apprentice?" she pressed with a grin.

            "I'll fire my best apprentice if he doesn't get back to work soon," Marty retorted, with a twisted smirk. She held up her hands in mock surrender and slid back under the car.

***

            She didn't usually go to bars after work. Not by herself, anyway. Tonight, though, she had some demons to drown. She hadn't been able to get that voice out of her head. As she stared into space, rubbing the bruise that had surfaced from deflecting the falling socket wrench that nearly claimed her consciousness, she didn't notice the man standing directly behind her. She lurched back into reality as the chair next to her scraped across the floor, the man now occupying it looking at her expectantly. She looked him over, stopping at his shoes. She looked back up at him, still in character, still male on the outside.

            "Marty'll have your ass if he knows you're stalking his employees," she warned.

            "I can deal with Marty," he answered. She barely managed to confine the shiver threatening to break.

            "I don't know about that," she said quickly, reaching out to grasp her beer.

            "I pay well," he added.

            "I bet you do," she followed. It was as though she knew exactly what he was going to say and what she would say in response.

            "Better than Marty." Her eyes met his, and her spirits fell on the inside. On the outside, she was fuming.

            "First off, you don't know what Marty's paying me, and second, what the fuck makes you think I give a shit anyway?" The question hung in the air, as though it were still attached to her chin. He smirked, only succeeding in making the fuming outside start taking over the dejected inside.

            "I know what Marty's paying you, and I'm going to pay you double." She shook her head, turning her attention to a swarm of females that just walked into the bar. Had to play every aspect of the part, and all. "Plus commissions." She paused.

            "Whatever you're into, I don't want a part of it," she stated firmly. "Probably illegal anyway." He snickered, and her fingers tightened around her glass, squeaking against the sweat forming from the humidity.

            "You're right," he said calmly, leaning back in his chair. "It is illegal." She snorted with a nod.

            "Figured as much," she grumbled. He sighed and leaned close to her, invading her space, putting her on edge.

            "Which means it pays more, and if you're getting commissions, I'm willing to bet you're gonna make four times what Marty's paying you." She placed a hand on his shoulder and shoved him back into his chair.

            "You must be really comfortable with yourself to be able to lean into a guy like that," she challenged. He just stared back at her, as if he were expecting something from her.

            "How old are you?" he asked. She let her eyebrow raise. "Twenty? Twenty-one?"

            "What's it matter?"

            "I've missed you, Jack," he said quietly, his face unreadable. She swallowed down the choking feeling.

            "You got the wrong person, Mister," she stammered, crossing her arms over her chest.

            "Do I?" She avoided his stare, knowing he would see right through her if he could see her eyes. She scrounged up all the hate she had for him, what was usually hidden behind her longing for him and missing him, and directed it straight through her eyes.

            "Yeah," she stated through gritted teeth. "You do." She threw herself out of the chair to stand and walk away.

            "See, I don't think I do, Jack." She waved him off over her shoulder. "No man has an ass like that," he finished. She paused and turned slowly, an incredulous look on her face. This time, the surprise wasn't an act, and neither was the anger. She rushed him, toppling his chair over onto its back, pinning him down, her forearm on his throat.

            "You got the wrong guy," she warned, her voice low and warning. "You come around me or the shop again pullin' that shit and I'll personally beat the shit out of you, you got that?" He only smiled up at her. She gave him a hard shove into the ground before getting up, brushing herself off, and walking away, leaving him in the floor under the stares of everyone else in the bar.

            The minute she was behind the door of her apartment, she twisted the locks so hard her knuckles cracked and slid to the floor, finally able to let the tears break free. She stifled a sob, only to turn it into a pathetic, wet snort, and then gave up, giving in to the fear, sadness, elation, and anger.