Doctor Who and the Great Eclipse: Part 14/34
Sirocco
The docking pilot helped steer River back to the crash site. In spite of the fact that the girl mumbled the entire way back about something shielding the fire she was rather easy to get moving. Then Fry had waited for Paris to stop dry-heaving. The art dealer looked pale and pasty and in this heat that couldn’t be good. She’d gotten him into the shade and one of his fans on him. Once the Simon emerged from the hull where he’d settled Jack down she suggested a shot for the man.
Dr. Tam had agreed to medicating Ogilvie after scanning the art dealer over. But Fry disliked leaving Jack alone even though the boy would sleep for another hour or two at the very least. Now she found herself inside the Nav Bay where Jack was settled on a space blanket provided by someone’s cargo sitting with the child. The boy was still out cold, his elven face twisted up like even his dreams hurt. Her hand brushed the copper-golden bangs off the sweaty forehead as her mind wandered. It was very lucky that they had a medical doctor on hand, or Paris would have dropped from a heart attack, she figured.
0o0o0o0o0o0o0
He still trailed half a length of re-enforced cable. The metal coils on his wrists remind him of other times and places, with other companions, where he'd been bound. Yeti bait, he was once. He'd been very worried for Jamie's and Victoria's safety then. Luckily it turned out fine. Then there was the time his captors tried to make his already tall form taller... He couldn't say he'd never been treated like this before, because he had been, plenty of times. Although this was the first time he'd been shot at while being released. Surely just using the key would have been more reasonable. He pushed aside the thought as he took his light hand off Amadak's shoulder before the tingling sensation from the touch made it impossible to walk. His groin was responding with a deep intense pulsing throb, to the feeling rather stronger than he'd thought possible.
Still, he knew Richard was pissed off with him. Had he abused that request for trust already? He supposed so. Why did it bother him so much? He wanted to salvage the situation, to prove somehow that the trust given was still valued and that he intended on repaying that debt. He shouldn't have allowed Johns to put them in chains again. Really he shouldn't have. However, they'd gained an ally, one that they wouldn't have had without going through this, “Mr Riddick?”
“Yeah, Doctor? ”
He was not used to apologizing, but here and now he needed to, “I am so very sorry that you ended up taking the brunt of everyone's anger.”
“Never mind that, OK? I expected it,” the con glanced back at the pale man and really got a nice long look at him. His body reacted with definite interest. “I - trust - you. Call me Richard, all right?” The alien seemed to be having trouble breathing. The ex-ranger made a face, “You good?”
“Me?” The gent looked surprised. “I'm fine - Richard. Never better. More worried about you, actually. Let Simon look over your shoulders, yeah?”
The bronze complexioned man stared some more, wondering if he could get away with pinning the cool fellow to the wall and getting a nice long taste of him, what he'd feel like pinned there, pressed body to body. He allowed the animal in him to fall into the fantasy of it. He imagined ravishing the fellow, holding the cool, sleek taunt body, clothes tattered to reveal the hairless defined lines of his arms and chest, against the metal wall while he plundered soft lips and nibbled on toned neck. He'd have on hand on those smooth wrists, keeping the strain enough to tense it but not to harm. God he wanted to touch, so bad. Exploring those lean lines, learning all there was to know about them. Touching in every possible way. And being touched too. Because only one thing would ease the ache in his psyche. Only the Doctor could. It would complete him, make him whole, make him better. They'd be one soul then, fully. Bliss that would last longer than anything he'd ever known before.
The Time Lord watched the ex-ranger enfold himself in his desire. It would be so easy to provide that, to take that role and let Richard have what he wanted. It would also be the wrong thing to do, right now. Too many unraveled ends remained; too little trust between them yet for it to be safe. If he gave into what the bond wanted there was a strong chance that in the end Richard would fight it, feeling trapped by what he didn't understand. No, he couldn't do that again. He'd gotten one bond ripped out of his mind before, and he knew what his pheromones were communicating. He couldn't go through that again alone. Not ever. The agony of the Bond protesting his denial pounded in the center of his forehead for a long moment before he reached up and lightly touched one black arch with a single digit. He wanted to give in, he did. But not yet. He needed more time. The pain eased back with his acceptance.
A cold finger brushed over his eyebrow, tracing the shape of it. The con blinked and realized that the Doctor was watching him with concern. He wanted to catch that hand and kiss it, to worship those fingers. Instead he tilted his head toward the light touch and kept still, fearing that the moment would burst before he was ready for it too. 'My Amadak. I am so sorry.' The hand trailed across his cheek and Riddick knew time was passing, and he didn't want it to end. He had no way to hold onto it though. How was he to react to such a gentle whisper of a feeling? He wanted to keep it, to clutch at it. He leaned slightly, trying to keep the contact just a while longer. He let his eyes flutter closed, showing exactly how much and how deeply he did trust this -impossible man. So deep was the well of unnamed feeling that it brought moisture to his eyes. He quickly opened them, looking a bit flustered and perhaps frightened by the unknown emotion that filled him from toes to skull. The finger became a palm resting on his cheek, a firm grounding touch that seemed to suck away the intense bursting sensation.
Settled now, Richard took a deep breath of the scent and vowed that it was enough, all he needed. “I'll make sure he does look at it, although I bet the Doc won't need much prompting,” Riddick finally said as the hand fell away. The Doctor nodded. The ex-ranger turned and headed out into the sun, sliding his goggles into place as he went. He put the experience and desire behind him. The sound of the other man's tread following was more settling then he wanted to reveal. If they survived this and he was able to get away from Johns then he'd broach the subject of taking this tentative attraction further.
The Time Lord, clad in his slightly weathered dusty black tee and wrist chains, waved, with slight difficulty, to River and Simon as he emerged from the shattered hull behind the broad shouldered muscular man who was slowly oozing blood across his shoulders. The bits of shell fragments littering Amadak's skin made the Time Lord burn with suppressed anger. The red headed marshal was walking on a very thin line. His bond with the other man thrummed in agreement. Richard was feeling the same intense desire to string Mr Johns up by his balls, sans clothes, for a hot long death. Too bad there were no ants here, because the Doctor could make a rather interesting bit of torture with them. The bronze skinned man turned his goggled gaze back the Doctor's direction, raising an eyebrow. Suddenly, he wanted his jacket back. Why did that glance make him feel naked?
River tugged on her brother's sleeve because he wasn't looking where Lei-Yu was coming from and hadn't seen the summons. Simon refused to set aside the Doctor's leather coat, not for even an instant, unless it was to hand it to Mei-Mei. They had been trusted with it, and they were going to give it back. He carefully dusted the leather off and followed his sister as she sprinted over to the Time Lord. Her reaction to the strange pale man should make him jealous, Simon realized. She wrapped her arms around the Doctor's thin waist, tucking in close to his body, nuzzling her with her head to get under his arm. Simon noted that he didn't feel the least bit put off by this. Whatever the Doctor was doing for his sister made her more like he remembered from before she went to the Academy and for that he was grateful.
For a few moments the tall, thin, nearly glowing, gent was fully occupied with settling shields back into place around the smaller not-quite-human female psyche. She needed his calm Void, the blankness of his mind again, because the survivors were thrusting their emotions around without any care as to how Herculean and scorching they might be to someone so sensitive and shattered as she. He carefully placed a hand on her head, which barely reached his chin.
She buried unto him soaking up the cooler temperature, shielding him from the blasting heat of the day. The Doctor allowed Time to pause for a moment, so that he can adjust to her again, trying to sync her to him better to ease the remembered pain from filtering for her. The attached cable on his wrist dribbled through her hair as he petted her, stroking her head and soothing her mind. He wanted to avoid getting tangled up in the ebony strands, so he was very careful with his movements.
Richard felt her inclusion in his mind, like a pocket of water bubbling through him, sliding past the layers of his mental landscape. He'd felt this before but hadn't realized it was her. She shyly shifted against him, mentally. 'Jie-di,' whispered over him, and he looked down at her with a smirk on his face. Then he followed the lines of the cool hand and arm that was draped over her head until he was looking into the Doctor's eyes. 'Lei-yu's Jie-di,' came the whisper again. Richard knew Chinese. Why was this girl calling him the Thunderstorm's Ground? And why was he inclined to accept it?
“Off, get the metal off,” she said into the Doctor's chest. River, for her part, burrowed into the cool of him, the peace, and the void. She missed the Storm and how it refreshed her. The faint ache across her scalp built for a moment as if in protest before disappearing with a little pop like it had been sucked away. Although being with Simon helped, he couldn’t shield her, and there was always the possibility that his needles might come back. She knew that they were useful, that they helped, but she didn’t want that right now. There was too much to learn and too much to see to spend this time sleeping.
“Simon, my coat?” The Doctor called. The younger doctor was just a few steps away, already carrying it toward him, although he paused long enough fetch the healer’s bag. Riddick required medical attention again. It was not through any fault of his own, however. Shazza had given him the knock to the head, busting his goggles and bruising him in several other places besides. The blood oozing up on his shoulders had to be from the shotgun blast. Easily enough treated, now that he had been back in his cargo. He was not fully aware of taking the same path toward the waiting men that his sister had bee-lined before, but something seemed to amuse Riddick, none the less. He gave the man a 'what?' expression before handing the worn leather jacket over to the waiting Time Lord. The bronze man acted as though he had no idea.
Now the con could have just walked away, kept moving. He'd gotten his freedom after all, and really he didn't owe these folks anything after following the Doctor's asinine plan. He'd gotten the Tams to safety, that should have paid back his dept to them. And he didn't have a debt to the Doctor, really. He didn't have a shiv on him to say that the Doctor'd gained him that either. Just an empty promise to have the right to carry one. He could just go. Riddick waits. River was not looking at him, but still aware, like he was aware, of the mental touch. He didn't want to leave. So he'd stay. 'Cuz he didn't have to go. Rather, he felt that it might be dangerous if he did. And he didn't want to leave them unprotected. Not that the Doctor needed protecting.
It was an old demon of his, this need to guard and protect those things that were rare and precious in the impersonal and harsh ‘Verse he lived in. Couldn't get more rare and precious than these three, really. It might just be him he was protecting them from. He needed the scent of clove spiced honey like he needed air. He wasn't sure he could cope if he was denied it, right now, with how badly he wanted to kill Johns. Preventive instinct to stop the threat before it manifested, that. He had a feeling though that the Doctor wouldn't like it if he acted on it. While most times he satisfied that urge to protect things it by stayin’ away from those things that his presence might draw danger toward, this time he didn’t have that option. And he mustn’t ignore the look he saw in the merc’s eyes either. If the Doctor wasn’t careful Johns would ghost him first chance he got. Since the ex-ranger needed the alien on some level he'd been very careful to not define, he’d better make sure the fellow lived.
“I heard the shot. It seems to be a wasteful way to release you.” Simon said as he pulled out a tube of Derma-heal. Because he'd stayed out of the argument over what to do with Riddick and the Doctor over Zeke's death, he managed get into his storage locker and replenish his bag. While he was at it he stuffed a few extra things into the Doctor’s coat too. Far more than he thought would fit, even. He had no idea when or if he'd be allowed back into it after all. River uncurled one arm and took the leather jacket by the collar so the Doctor was free to locate what he was looking for in his pockets.
Riddick shrugged at the assessment. That was Johns for you. The dark haired lad motioned him down so he could take a better look at the damage. His face morphed into a frown as the larger man complied and he got his professional eye on the wounds. Simon made a disgruntled sound in his throat. ‘Gotta agree with you there, Doc,’ Richard thought. He was none too happy about the situation either. “See you used my coat to store some things, lad,” the Doctor commented as it took him longer to locate the sonic screwdriver. “I’ll have to fix your bag for you, so I can get this extra weight out of my pockets.”
Simon turned his attention to picking out the small shards of metal from the con's broad shoulders, now that the larger man has crouched so he can reach. “Sorry. Things have been quite uncertain and I don’t know when I’ll be allowed back into my belongings.” He plucked an antiseptic wipe out of the container he tucked under an arm and began to clean the broad planes of Riddick’s form. The other man doesn’t even flinch although the medicine stings in the many wounds. Once that was done Simon applied the Derma-heal.
The only sounds during the process were the hiss of the spray and the rumpling noise of the Doctor’s hand as he shifted through the deceptively ‘empty’ pocket. “Don’t apologize for using your brain, young man. It’s the only thing that separates you from the chaff here,” The Doctor’s hand emerged from a pocket with the silver tube gripped in his fingers. Seconds later the both men had shed the cable as four locks were opened. Then the cable was kicked away by River’s boots. She returned to the Doctor’s side and curled her fingers in a belt loop of his jeans.
“Thanks again, Doc,” Riddick said to Simon. He ignored the removal of his wrist cuffs, as it was the Doctor that got him slapped into them in the first place. The alien didn’t seem to notice or care. But the con watched him, making sure he hadn’t offended the man. He caught a slight hint of amusement in the gent’s eyes and kept his face blank as he stood back up.
“I want to look at that knot on your head too. Why don’t we step over here and I’ll see what I can do.” The ex-ranger went from blank to glaring through his goggles at the Doctor. Damn liar, ‘not that bad…’ What did he define as bad then? Oh, there were tons of possibilities there; Riddick’s mind supplied them easily. What has the Doctor seen that makes him view a possible concussion as minor? Better to not ask. He turned and nodded to Simon. The alien shrugged at him, brushing off the expression as he slipped back into his leather jacket somehow managing to not dislodge the girl nor hit her in the process.
0o0o0o0o0o0o0
Fry ran her fingers through the sleeping boy’s hair. The amber tones of it reminded her of her brother, who had fled their parent’s debt and negative records by changing his name and becoming a free-settler on some back-world or another. Last she had heard, two decades ago, he’d gotten married and had ‘won’ a homestead plot. The letter had been an invite to join him on his farm. She had turned it down, choosing instead to finish her schooling and become a pilot. Their's had been a hard life with hard decisions.
She couldn’t imagine going from the technological world they’d been raised on, trash planet or no, to some untamed, prefab, ball of dirt to raise crops or cows. Not her cup of tea. And she would have never imagined that her mechanically brilliant brother would give up his company scholarship to become a farmer. But he had. She supposed that he was at the very least happy and free from the ties that keeping the Fry surname shackled her with. All she would have had to do to slip free of those bonds was add an ‘e’ to her name and move… She suspected that was all he’d done.
For all she knew this kid that she was trying to comfort was a relation.
Her thoughts were interrupted by the sounds of Arabic becoming louder. Shit. She’d totally forgotten about the Imam and his boys. But then so much had happened in such a short time… She scrambled to her feet as Imam’s voice called, “Captain? I was told you were in here.”
“Over here, Imam. God.” she carefully got to her feet and settled Jack back down on the space blanket “I’m sorry. I - I forgot about you guys. Were you able to get the unit working?”
“Nearly.” Abu informed her, then added the bad news, “There’s something broken on the pump, although there’s water now filling the central chamber.”
She blinked at him. There had to be a solution. Wait there was, “How about taking the pump out of the Hunter-Gratzner and replacing the broken one?”
Hope sprung back onto the dark man's face, “If it is possible to remove it.”
“I don’t see why not. Let me show you where it is.” Carolyn found herself leading someone else into the dusty interior of the ship toward the cistern hatch. The pump was easy to locate and with the correct tools would be easy to remove. Abu and Hassan set to work on the project, as Fry went back to locate the other survivors. She noted Ali sitting with Jack and was glad for it. Outside she found Simon giving Paris a walk through on breathing nice and deep while he treated the man’s condition. Suleiman was kneeling down near them helping to pad the art-dealer’s back to prop him up. The fellow was looking better. This was good for what she was going to propose. The other gent going by the title Doctor was with River Tam. In his hands a yo-yo was going through the most amazing tricks. It was to keep the girl amused, Fry guessed. Riddick leaned against the hull watching. “Seen Johns?” she asked. The ex-ranger pointed up with a thumb. She frowned and scaled the ladder.
The marshal was up top the hull under Paris’ misting umbrella, reclined in the man’s chair. He was drinking a bottle of something quite strong. A nearly empty bottle, she noted, somewhat angered. The suns were at about two o’clock, twin fires in the sky making everything looked overexposed. She stood there and raised an eyebrow at him, feeling more than a little annoyed. They still had shitloads of work to do if they were gonna make it out of this alive and here he was getting plastered. “So what’s up, Captain?” Johns asked.
She frowned at him, “Don’t start.” They glared at each other for a long moment before Fry laid into him, “You were wrong, twice. So just don’t start, Johns.” He sighed and turned his attention back to the bottle, taking another swig of it. She wanted to knock it out of his hand but restrained her impulse. Instead she calmly told him,“Imam says they have the moisture reclamation unit working but for a tap. They are lifting the cistern pump out of the hull now.” The ex-marine made a face before looking back at her and indicating with his head that he was listening. She took the bottle away from him and tossed it over the edge of the hull. He frowned. Fry snapped, “We’ll need to get it back to the settlement. It might be a good idea for us to all go.” The redhead made a face. Her logic made perfect sense. He had to agree with her. Johns nodded and handed her the bullhorn.
0o0o0o0o0o0o0
It was the sound of Fry’s voice amplified by the horn that drew everyone onto the cryo-bay. By the time Ali and a sleepy Jack joined the adults there were enough scrounged crates and folding chairs for everyone to have a perch if they wanted one. Paris took one of the antique seats for himself kind of in the middle of the group, not choosing either side over the other, he'd brought in a misting fan that filled the bay with the odor of sherry. The scent was annoying to several of the others, even those that didn't have extra keen noses. Abu and Hassan had the pump and the required subsystems gathered together and settled into crates. They were standing by the wall. Suleiman rounded up the younger boys and had them sit with his brother even though Jack looked like he would rather not be.
Simon, River, the Doctor, and Riddick made up another grouping, although the con seemed to be trying to stand apart from them. Rather he was wanting to avoid the stench from the misters and was positioned in the best location for that while still keeping in range to protect. River was firmly planted between her brother and the Doctor, one hand curled around the edge of a leather coat pocket. The impression Johns got was that Riddick was guarding the others.
Fry situated herself between Imam and the Doctor, across from Johns and in front of Paris. “Right, this is everyone. We’re sure there are no other survivors out there?” She looked around.
“I found no other life signs as River and I came up the crash scar,” said Dr. Tam. Johns figured he’d be the one to know.
Carolyn nodded. “No point in staying here. There’s a settlement, about quarter day’s easy walk due sunrise. Haven’t taken inventory, mind you, but there is water, shelter, and -- a skiff. Might just get us off planet.”
“Fuel source?” asked the Doctor. He looked thoughtful.
“Um, looks like a single ninety-gig draw liquid fuel cell. Drained of power.”
“Won’t work.” The Doctor seemed completely sure. For one there were too many people to fit into any craft that used a single draw powercell.
Fry looked at the man as though he’d voiced her greatest fear, “Not as such, no. But enough systems have survived in the Hunter-Gratzner that I think I can rewire it.” This gained her an impressed expression from the pale man.
Riddick spoke up, “You’re talking about strippin’ it out, this skiff, and rebuilding it from the ground up. Do you even know enough about the various systems to do something like that?”
It was a huge task. Could take months. But she did have the background to do it. As long as there were enough electrical systems left in the Hunter-Gratzner that she can use, at least. “Yes. My brother and I used to do similar all the time growing up. Often times it was the only way to put food on the table, taking two or three broken vehicles and making it so one worked.” She ran her hand through her hair, “It’s been twenty-five years or so, but this is an older boat, and the skiff is at least three decades old too. I should be able to do it, given the time.” That was the kicker. Did they have Time?
“Well, we’re not going anywhere else. How likely is it that a rescue ship will come for us?” Paris asked, “I mean, I’ve got half a million UD’s worth of cargo insured.”
The marshal said, “Not too sure we wanna wait, I mean, they are liable to send a squad of liquidators or bounty hunters, not rescuers.” He nodded over at Riddick, “You know the company is going to place the blame for the crash and the deaths on Rich here. Anyone able to say otherwise won’t survive.”
“Owens did get out a partial distress, but I’m not sure how much transmitted. In any case it’ll be twenty-two to forty-four weeks before anyone comes at all. We’ll have to try to survive that long at least even if the company sends anyone.” Fry sighed, “And they might not, Mr Ogilvie. They might just pay off your business claim, write off the Hunter-Gratzner as a tax loss and close the books on it. They had just incorporated the ship on it’s own so they were trying to privatize it under Mitchell. I suspect now that was because it was getting too expensive to keep up repairs.”
There was a rumble of discontent for a moment as several voices, Paris and Johns the loudest, attempted to place blame for the situation while others jumped in to defend. River hid her face in the Doctor’s side as the noise level rose. The man curled an arm across her and glared at those arguing with each other. Simon was thinking that perhaps sedating the whole lot of them was a good idea as the babbling broke into strands of English, Arabic, and Chinese spliced together. Riddick finally let off a piercing whistle, “Hey, shut it. The only way to survive is to focus on what we have to do.” After a moment the room went from tense silence to thoughtful silence. Fry nodded at the goggled man in thanks for his help, as her voice had been totally drowned out.
“There is a sand-cat and several trailers at the settlement. If we get that working then stripping the hull will go that much faster. Clearly someone survived here for a period of time at one point. God must intend for us to do so as well,” Imam stated.
“So - to the settlement?” Simon asked.
0o0o0o0o0o0o0
Over the course of the next few hours, everyone was called into service gathering together anything they can carry. Zeke’s sled was pressed into use and loaded down with a large assortment of items that the survivors believed that they must have on this first trip. This included spare oxygen containers, the pump for the moisture recovery system, liquor, medical supplies, survival gear, and even prayer rugs and holy books. It was hard to ignore the strange spires on the hills, and doubly so when folks kept spotting Jack standing and staring off at them blankly.
Inside the ship, Carolyn, Abu, Suleiman, and the Doctor have been assessing the systems of the Hunter-Gratzner and noting how much they can save. The decision was made to take one 20-gig power cell back to the settlement along with an assortment of converters so that they can tell how much of the skiff’s wiring will have to be replaced. Once that was decided the four split up to gather some personal things. Or rather all of them but the Doctor. He instead stepped out and looked at the overloaded sled with narrowed eyes. Nearly two thirds of the load were items that he considered non-essential. “How many of us are pulling this?” he asked one of the pilgrims. The answer caused him to unload half of the items on the sled.
“What are you doing?” Johns demanded.
“If Mr. Ogilvie wants his scotch then he can carry it. The extra two cases are uncalled for. It will be here when we return with the sandcat. And the same goes for the misters. And the chairs. And your extra shells,” The Doctor said handing the red box back to the merc. “Unless you want to assist in pulling the sled?” He got a growl and the redhead snatched the box from him. It didn't scare the odd pale man nearly as much as the merc hoped for. Riddick just made sure that Johns knew where he was so that the merc didn’t do anything rash.
As the double suns slowly moved to the horizon and the blue sun peaked up over, the group set off on their trek. The older pilgrim boys decided to help with pulling the sled, and took up the first two positions. The Doctor and Riddick assumed the spots behind Hassan and Suleiman. Together the four men hauled far more than each could carry alone. The ex-ranger was glad for the Doctor's steady presence next to him, the scent of spiced sweetness made this all easier to endure. Now if he could just keep himself from wanting to touch...
Their fingers kept brushing, pinky to pinky, as they shared the single inner cable pull. He glanced over even while he kept his head down and noticed that the intense sideways look was shared too. He smirked. The Doctor mirrored it. And they walked in perfect time with one another, matching the stride set by the pilgrims, easily, as it was slower than they personally needed it to be. Ahead of them Carolyn and Abu carefully balanced a 35 kilo-power cell in a sling made from some scavenged webbing. Ali, Jack, Simon, River, Johns, and Paris all carried their own loads of varying sizes, with Paris coming in as the lightweight. The group walked with only the chanting, in Arabic, to keep time with. They didn’t really notice as the sounds slowly resolved into words they understand, as the boys recited scripture and prayers. The twin suns dipped below the edge of the world as they approached the boneyard. Up ahead of the sled Paris looked at Johns, “So just like that. Wave your little wand and he's one of us now?”
The redhead rolled his eyes at the man, “Didn't say that. But least this way I don't have to worry about falling asleep and not wakin' up.”
Abu said, “Well, I feel we owe Mr Riddick and the Doctor amends.”
“Right, it’s not like Rich’s killed people before this. Or that we know much about the Doctor.” Johns said to the holy man.
“Neither have not harmed anyone here. If anything they have tried to save lives. We should at least share what we have…”
“Riddick's happy just bein' vertical. Leave him be.” Johns was careful to not include the Doctor in that order but the Time Lord scowled at the marshal’s back none the less. Richard noted the expression and vowed to return the kindness.
Jack had been listening, and now decided it was time to find someone else’s wing to tuck under, “So I can talk to Riddick now?”
Johns, Paris, Abu, and Carolyn all said, “No.”
The boy’s face twisted up in anger. If Shazza had just listened then she’d still be alive and he wouldn’t be alone. There’s no reason to treat the bronze-skinned man like a pariah. Being nice to him might save their lives, after all. River took his hand, “Soon, little bird.” Jack nodded. Ali stepped up and took River’s other hand and she joined the two boys in a rhyming game combining English, Arabic, Chinese and about seven other languages that the two boys don’t know but accept from her as being real languages none-the-less.
They were scaling the first rise now, and it was tough going. Paris slipped and slid and managed to drop one of his bottles from his beaded bag on the side of the sled that Riddick was pulling from. “Oh, Bollocks!” he exclaimed as he noticed the drop. He turned and marched back though the group. As the sled passed the container, the con scooped it up. Paris found that he was suddenly walking beside the sled, next to the ex-ranger, “Um… Paris P. Ogilvie. Antiquities dealer, entrepreneur.”
The bronze skinned man didn’t call the sled to a stop, but quickly shook the offered hand as they walked, “Richard B. Riddick. Escaped convict, murderer.” He had no intention of giving the bottle back. Fair would have been to offer something for them to take with them as they walked, as everyone else had air at least. Only the Tams didn't and they showed no signs of needing it.
“That’s a very expensive -- ” Paris began, as the con opened the bottle. In short order he'd drained half of it. Then instead of offering it back he wiggled it at the Doctor, indicating that the rest was his for the taking if he wanted it. He ignored the two pilgrims because he knew they were on Hajj and shouldn’t have the liquor. He felt for them, because they were pulling a tough weight, but they didn’t seem to mind much with their faith providing them with what they needed to deal with this trial. After a second he felt cool fingers slip the bottle from his grasp. He watched the other man study and sniff the thin, elegant, rusty-toned bottle. The wine inside was well aged and normally would be served in tiny glasses. ‘Not so shoddy.’ It was not like the alcohol affected him much. With a smirk he copied Riddick’s example and finished the bottle. It wouldn’t be polite to refuse, after all. “ -- It’s a fine drop.” Paris finished.
“Yes. Thank you. Hits the spot.” The Time Lord said as he handed the now empty container back. Paris felt the bottle in his hand although it took him a minute to really notice it. Then he stupidly blinked at it. It was empty. Almost a hundred UD’s gone in a few seconds. He could bet that neither man really appreciated it either. But he glanced at the Doctor’s face and his very clear blue eyes, shaded by the brim of his leather cap, and realized that perhaps he was wrong. The thanks seemed genuine. “You’re both quite welcome. I’ve got more if you want it.” He was rattled but not stupid. The con smiled at him. It was a creepy smile. One that left the art dealer shaken. He quickly turned to catch up with Imam and Fry.