The Chronicles of Riddick - Alan Dean Foster [105]
“I mean on this very ship,” she snapped. “Right here, in the sanctuary of the Basilica itself.”
Though he had never had reason to doubt her before, Vaako found it hard to believe. Difficult enough to imagine anyone surviving direct exposure to the sun of Crematoria. To expect him to believe that Riddick had not only survived, but made it back to Helion Prime and onto the Basilica, was almost too much to envision. Yet no matter how strongly or sensibly he objected, she continued to insist that she had seen him here.
Presented with a seeming impossibility, he sought other explanations. “Could you be wrong? Could your mind just be fabricating what we fear? We have been under considerable stress lately; stress caused both by professional demands and personal expectations.” He moved closer to her, searching her face, meeting her gaze. “Could you be wrong?”
She saw that he did not want to accept an unpleasant reality. Well, he’d better find a way to accept it, and fast. Whatever Riddick had in mind, she doubted the breeder would wait long before putting it in play. They needed to be ready. For whatever might come.
“Not so wrong as when you left him alive,” she chided her companion. She knew that, had she been on Crematoria, that oversight would not have occurred. Her thoughts swirled as she tried to anticipate possible eventualities. “It’s twice a mistake. Not only your failure to make certain of his passing, but now we have to live with your report that the expedition was a success.” She was pacing fiercely now, a panther barely caged, muttering to herself as much as to him. “How do we salvage this . . . how . . . ?”
Vaako chose that moment to reveal that they were not thinking along similar lines. “The Lord Marshal,” he exclaimed with a start. “He’s got to be warned. Even if it turns out that you were mistaken, it’s a risk that cannot be ignored.” He turned and started for the door.
She did not move to intercept him. Nor did she raise her voice or sputter curses. Her tone was perfectly steady. “You will never see UnderVerse. He’ll kill us both before due time. And it won’t matter whether Riddick is here or not. I’ve seen how he acts when the breeder is discussed. Just the possibility that you might have failed will be enough to set him off. Is that what you want?”
Vaako halted, confusion and uncertainty writ plain on his face. “Then—what do we do?”
“It is truly the wise one who can turn seeming adversity into advantage.” She moved closer, her voice at once conspiratorial and ferocious. “This Riddick is persistent beyond reason. I say give him his chance. You saw what he did when confronted by the Quasi-Dead. No one in my experience or I daresay in yours has shown such resolve, such resilience. Such skill. If he is half of what Lord Marshal fears, then perhaps he can at least wound him.” Her gaze met that of her companion, bold and unwavering.
“It may be enough. If hurt, he will hesitate. When he hesitates, that is when you must act.”
Vaako balked. What she was saying, this woman to whom he had hitched his life, went against every teaching he had absorbed since becoming a soldier. “Just to take his place? I am made commander general. Is that not enough? Must I do this just to keep what I kill?”
“It is the Necromonger way. No lord marshal reigns forever.” She all but spat the words. “This one’s time for replacement is overdue. You will be doing him a favor. Send him on his way to UnderVerse. Advance him to his due time.”
Torn between desire for her and loyalty to his superior, between his own dreams and the faith to which he had pledged himself, he looked away and gave voice to the emotions that were churning inside him.
“It is not enough.”
She contained her exasperation. Where would this man be without her to motivate him? On the battlefield he reigned supreme: none could touch