The Chronicles of Riddick - Alan Dean Foster [76]
“Treasonous talk, Aereon. I like you already.”
“Not treasonous for me,” the Elemental replied. “I cannot speak treason against a society to which I do not belong. I am only making casual observations in response to your various inquiries.”
Dame Vaako eyed her perceptively. “Calculating?”
Aereon did not exactly shrug. It was more a slight readjustment of her upper body. “As I have said, we are always calculating.”
With a nod of acknowledgment, Dame Vaako turned to the pilot nearby. With a deepening hum, the transport rose from the ground. Conversation turned to the petty and inconsequential as Dame Vaako and her “guest” moved across the floor.
“This is all very interesting,” she finally told the Elemental. “It is also a waste of time. There are many things I can spare, but time is not one of them. Not now. I look forward to pursuing our discussion of individual philosophies and personal motivations at some future date.” Her voice darkened slightly. “I hope that will be possible. It would be regrettable if adverse circumstances were to intervene.” She halted.
“As you may already have calculated,” she continued, with just the right touch of mockery, “there are other, more important matters that require attention. Let us have first things first.” Her words came faster now; clipped and demanding. “What of the individual known as Riddick? Where can he be found?”
Aereon did not hesitate. “In truth, I don’t know where he went. We Elementals know many things, but we are not omniscient.”
Dame Vaako stepped back. “In truth, I’m more interested in where he came from.”
This time the Elemental hesitated. Dame Vaako responded, not with another query, but by operating a nearby control. A door opened beneath the other woman, forcing her to back up toward her host.
“Watch your step.” Dame Vaako did not grin.
Beneath them, the devastated rooftops of the capital swam into view: ruined apartment complexes, individual residences, office buildings, commercial centers, government facilities, all reduced in perspective by the transport’s slow ascent. The view was a reminder of, among other things, Necromonger prowess and power. Wind howled as the warmer air within the ship mixed with the cooler atmosphere outside. At a signal from Dame Vaako, the transport stopped its climb. It remained at the chosen altitude, hovering, as its operators waited for further instructions.
Dame Vaako eyed her guest, whose attention was directed downward. “In truth, still no recollection of the Riddick’s origins?” Her voice turned coaxing. “No memory at all of his home world, his lineage, how and why he came to find himself on Helion Prime at this crucial time—or how we came to find him here?” She paused, allowing the Elemental a moment for reflection. Not only on the inquiry, but on their present relative position.
“Still nothing?” she finally pressed. “You say that your people are good at calculations. Do me a favor. Assuming your continued refusal to answer my questions, calculate the odds of your getting off this planet alive.”
With a sharp gesture, she borrowed a long ceremonial blade from a watching soldier. After admiring the glint of the metal and the skill of the craftsman who had enhanced it, she promptly placed it across the width of Aereon’s back. The Elemental’s range of movement was now seriously restricted: razor-sharp edge behind and two-hundred meter drop in front.
“Done calculating?” she inquired politely. “Good.” The long blade pressed a little more firmly against flesh and fabric. “Now cut those odds in half.”
Though attentive, it was clear that the Elemental was not afraid. She proceeded to say as much. “Save your threats, Necromonger.”
To Dame Vaako’s shock, Aereon moved—straight