The movie "Pitch Black" and all it's original characters are the property of Universal, Interscope and USA Films, et al. This story is for entertainment purposes only and not for profit. All characters original to the story are the property of the author.

Breath of the Serpent

CHAPTER 1

The room was smoky. Filled with the laughter of miner's and their lovers. Grateful to have made it through another day. Throbbing with the sounds of music and glasses tinkling and people talking.

He'd just come out of the john and was walking towards the table that sat Zar, Molly and Esker. The two women were laughing at something, probably dirty as Hell, that his mining partner had said.

He concentrated on the look of Zar's face. It was more alive than he'd seen in since they'd come to Delightful 7, or Dee7, the name given to the planet by the miner's who worked her. She was smiling, and laughing so hard that she had to cover her mouth with her hand to keep from spitting out the swig of beer she'd just taken.

He didn't have any particular feelings toward Esker and Molly one way or the other. He was not a man who needed people per se. Escaped convicts weren't exactly known for their social skills. And he was fine with that. As long as Zar was a part of his life, he had everything he needed.

But he was grateful for the friendship the fellow miner and his woman had brought into Zar's life. She was a person who definitely needed to be around people. Good people. People who laughed and joked and just generally acted normal. The things he couldn't give her.

Her face was flushed with happiness. The only time it looked better was when it stared up at him as he made love to her.

He slowed his pace deliberately so that he could look at her longer unawares. She was the love of his life. The rescuer of his body and soul. A woman with such a big heart, such a brave heart, that she could look beyond the label the ASF, the prisons, and all the mental health 'experts' had given him and still love him. A soft, very small smile crossed his lips.

Seconds later it was gone. Replaced with a look of disbelief and fear so intense that the muscles of his mouth cramped.

A movement behind Zar that quickly materialized into Miriam Gonzalez.

The woman who had seduced and tortured him, then brutally dug out his left eye. The eye had been replaced on Dee7. The memories of being at the mercy of such a person for hours hadn't.

He and Zar had barely escaped with their lives from Polaris Station. Only quick thinking, and a suicidal devotion to him on Zar's part had prevented the mercenary Miriam Gonzalez from having her revenge. Revenge for the death of William Johns after the crash of the Hunter-Gratzner on Taurus 2. He'd been her fellow merc and sometimes lover. How she was so sure Richard had killed the twisted, greedy fuck, he never could figure out. Maybe she didn't need conclusive proof. For many mercenaries it was shoot first, ask questions later.

But one thing was a certainty. She was mentally unbalanced. With the know-how and the proverbial balls to attain her demented quest. Ebony hair complimented hazel eyes and a tall, lithe figure. Sexy to the extreme. Exactly the kind of woman that attracted him in the first place.

And now she was here.

With a slick, fast movement she grabbed the unknowing woman by the hair. Cruelly dragging her up by the curly, light brown strands. Placing a long, serrated knife to her throat to forestall any defensive move.

He couldn't seem to get any closer to the table. Time slowed only for him. Terror dulling his reflexes and mind.

Miriam looked up to where he was. Smiling as she watched him try to get through the crowd that seemed to appear out of nowhere.

His vision focused to the point that he could see only three things. Zar's pleading, terrified eyes, Miriam's evil grin, and the blade that slowly ripped the throat out of the woman he loved.

"NOOOOO!!!!!"

Blood shot out over the table. Landing in a hot gush against his face. Bone and cartilage gleamed wetly from the gaping wound as Zar's body fell heavily to the floor. The sounds of her desperate quest for air explosively loud.

He reached her. Diving to the floor while reaching for her blood covered body. All other danger forgotten.

Franticly he encircled her neck with his hands. Trying to keep the blood in her body. But he knew it was no good.

The light was fading from her eyes. Leaving her staring up at the ceiling with a last look of pain and horror.

Then nothingness.

"NOOOOOOO!!!!!!"

"Richard!...for God's sake wake up!"

He came back to wakefulness with a head throbbing rush. The adrenaline in his body still at full throttle from the trauma.

Reflexively he jumped up from the table where he'd been sleeping. Sending the chair falling to its back and skidding across the room with a loud clatter. His body automatically going to fight mode. Arms raised, legs spread wide for balance.

For a moment he couldn't place where he was. It didn't look like the cantina. It was way too quite. The only sounds that of his labored breathing.

"Richard! It's okay! It's only a dream!"

Slowly, half-afraid he was still dreaming, he turned his head to stare at the owner of the beloved voice. One only seconds earlier he was sure he would never hear again. Zar's stared back at him. Distorted in pinks and grays and whites by his eyes. A look of concern radiating from her eyes.

Was this the dream? Was he still in the cantina? A crazed, catatonic man made delusional by grief and shock?

The stark terror coming from his shined eyes left her breathless. He was in shock! Seemingly incapable of doing anything more than staring at her with a face tight with inconsolable grief. Breathing heavily and soaking with sweat, he still wore his work overalls. Smelled vaguely of Sargimite, hard work and chemicals.

It was four o'clock in the "morning." Or what passed for morning on Dee7. She'd woken only minutes before when she had reached over in a quick moment of lucidity to touch him. Something she did a number of times throughout the night. Feeling the cold, empty place next to her, it had worried her into complete consciousness. Glancing at the digital readout embedded in the wall opposite their bed, she'd been filled with a sense of unease. He rarely stayed out this late. Even nights he went to the cantina with Esker.

She'd been debating on whether to get up or not, when she'd heard his first scream.

Heart pounding, she'd rushed out to the dining area. Found him slumped over the table. Resting on his crossed arms, his head tossing violently back and forth.

Immediately she took in the situation. A bad dream. But it seemed beyond that.

Calling his name, she'd hoped to rescue him from his incubus. He hadn't heard her and continued to flounder under the force of whatever ugliness that had been playing in his minds eye. His second scream had torn at her heart. So full of pain and terror.

She'd called his name with more force the second time. Desperate to end his torment.

He come out of the chair like a rocket. As if ready to fight whatever demons that were brave enough to follow him into the real world.

Now she slowly approached him, afraid to unsettle him anymore. She walked to the chair he'd upended. Setting it right and against his legs. Carefully taking hold of his arm and lowering him into it.

Her touch seemed to loosen the bonds of the whatever terror induced paralysis that had been immobilizing him.

Suddenly she found her short, plumb body lifted into his arms and then deposited on his seated thighs. Wrapped almost painfully in his tightest embrace.

The shaking began and it tore her apart. Also scared the shit out of her. She'd never seen him this way.

He buried his head in her chest. Taking deep gulping breaths. Soon she felt the tell-tale moisture of tears seeping through her night gown. A white cast off t-shirt of Richard's.

Not knowing what else to do, she hugged him back. Rubbing his back and head. Murmuring nonsense words of love and comfort. Until she felt the racing throb of his heart slowly regain a more normal rhythm.

As his body wound down from it's self inflicted torture, his embrace loosened. His arms sliding down slowly to rest on her hips.

"You need to tell me what it was about. Dreams loose their terror the more they're talked about."

He gave no response other than to shake his shaven head against her chest.

"Richard, remember my dreams of Brenner? What did you tell me? Something like I was tearing myself up inside by not talking to you? Now, please, tell me!"

His body heaved a great sigh. Slowly raising his head he let it fall back to rest on the back of the chair. Keeping his eyes closed the whole time. Bringing his hands from her hips to rub at wet his face.

"Death. I dreamed of death."

Zar felt the struggle in him as he tried to regain his composure. Something still wasn't making sense. For a man whom many considered death personified, a person could be excused for believing him somewhat insensitive to the subject.

"Your death?"

Slowly he shook his back and forth.

Frustrated she took hold of his face in both of her small hands. "Then whose? Come on! Let it out! It only holds power over you if you don't bring it out in the light of day."

Raising his face he slowly opened his eyes to meet hers. Pursing his lips tight, he seemed to fight a battle within himself.

She knew.

"Oh...mine. You saw me die. And not a pretty way I take it?"

He nodded his head as he answered, "Yours. I saw your death. Miriam sliced your throat open."

He eyes widened at the brutality of his words. Perversely she felt the need to swallow. The minds way of making sure it still had a working throat.

And then reality stepped back in.

"It was just a dream! A nightmare. We both know it's not going to happen. If she knew where we were, she'd have been here by now!"

Leaning down she pressed her warm mouth the his surprisingly cold one. Rubbing circles on his rib cage with her hands in a gesture of comfort.

"You're tired. You've been working sixteen hour shifts since we got here five weeks ago! The nightmare is your body's way of telling you to slow down and let it recharge.

Now come to bed. Let me hold you while you sleep. I promise there won't be any more nightmares."

She'd been right. The dreams horror was slowly fading. Dying under the onslaught of her love and common sense. And he had to admit that she was probably right. He'd been working too long of hours, under very crappy conditions at that. But he'd been worked harder than this and nightmares hadn't been a problem before. Oh, he'd always been a light sleeper. A matter of necessity in prison life. But he usually slept the sleep of the innocent. Something that baffled, and bothered, all the damn mind-twisters that had studied his so-called psychopathic tendencies.

The civilized part of himself kept telling him that he just needed sleep. But the animal side, the side that knew there was more to reality than the five senses, wasn't buying it. The dream had been more than just a dream.

He was worried it had been a premonition. A warning. It would just be like God to torment him with visions of a future that included a murdered Zar. Knowing there was probably shit he could do about it. That was the fucked thing about Fate. No matter how hard you tried to dodge it, it usually found a way to make things happen its way.

Right now he couldn't worry about. He wouldn't worry about it. He needed to be in her arms. To tell both sides of himself, the civilized and the animal, that it had just been a bad dream. Not the inevitable future.

Looking at her pinkish face, he saw the worry she felt for him. He'd never acted this way before. Spooked. There was no other way to put it. The dream had shaken him majorly.

Well, he couldn't do anything about the dream. But he could do something about her worry.

Forcing his face to relax and give a typical Riddick smile, he sarcastically asked, "I guess you're not going to be happy until I let you mother me, are you?"

She didn't take offense at his tone. She knew him too well to think he meant any harm by it. Knew he was trying to relieve her anxiety. Folding her arms on his chest she rested her chin on them.

Smiling, she told him, "Yep. So you might as well come quietly."

His smile grew to a disturbing width. Sexual charisma and bad-boy charm radiating from his face.

She knew she was in for a zinger even before he opened his mouth.

"Oh, I come very quietly. It's you that can't keep your mouth shut."

In the early times of their relationship she would've blushed furiously at his innuendo. But a woman wasn't Richard Riddick's lover for any amount of time and still remain easy to discomfit. The man didn't have a decorous bone in his body. He knew he was a prime physical specimen.

Tall, very muscular, with milk-in-coffee skin, he radiated sex appeal. The added charms of the shined eyes, bad-ass (her nickname for him when she'd first met him) attitude and intimidatingly shaven head made for a charismatic, and fuckable man. He liked the way women looked at him. He was a male of the species after all. He would've answered the door stark naked if she hadn't made him promise not to.

Zar had learned to hold her own in his sexual repartee. It had been that or be in a constant state of embarrassment.

"That a challenge bud? 'Cause if it is, well let's just say I think I'm more than up to it. Which...huh...seems more than you can manage at the moment." Her hand reached down and cupped between his thighs. A flirtatious smile brightening her once pensive face.

The dream faded farther with the light from her smile. He felt almost normal again. A blessed relief.

Grabbing her hand he brought it up to his lips. He wasn't a man to make romantic gestures. But it felt easy and right at that moment.

Becoming serious he whispered, "Thank you."

Gently she removed her hand from his. But it didn't go far. Rather she cupped his face and rubbed his lips softly with her thumb.

Whispering words back to him.

"You're welcome."