Pitch Hard

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Part One
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John Riddick stepped off the ship into dazzling sunshine. Hugging an oversized, stuffed Teddy under one arm - a present to be shared by his two girls - he shielded his goggled eyes with his other hand, surveying the scorched landscape.
"I escaped from Slam for this?" he thought.
Riddick headed for the front entrance and nearly ran headlong into a smallish, dark-haired woman holding up a sign with 'Nakatomi' printed across it in neat, squared lettering.
He looked around him and shook his head at the absurdity of the sign - the total passenger 'load' on the shuttle had been three.
"I think you're here for me"," he said, pointing to the placard. "My name's John."
"Shazgyle," she responded, reaching out to shake his hand."Pleased to meet you. Come this way; my cat-limo is around back, out of the sand-wind."
Ten minutes later they were bouncing towards the mining settlement. Shazgyle looked him over, obviously trying to pigeonhole her passenger. Riddick Cheshire-Catted her in return and continued peering out the window in silence.
"They said it might rain," Shazgyle said.
Riddick could feel her sifting his reaction for common sense. He gaped up at the unbroken, yellow-tinged sky, doing his best imitation of an oblivi-dolt taking her comment seriously.
"Looks clear," he said, trying to sound like a New Mecca tourist gone astray.
"Ain't much of a talker, are you?" Shazgyle offered. "Why're you here on this God-forsaken rock, anyway?"
Riddick could tell she had seen through his act. He stared at her for an uncomfortably long time and then shrugged.
"If you must know, I'm here to visit my wife and kids for Christmas."
"Christmas," Shazgyle said, her face scrunching. She pointed to a shriveled branch of some alien desert scrub hung from her rear-view mirror. Bedecked with a few lonely strands of tinsel, it pitifully staked claim in a universe of heat a million light-years from any winter wonderland. "Christmas in hell."
"You're wife is here?" she prodded after he deigned elaborating on his own.
"Yeah…She works for Nakatomi Mining. She was offered a promotion if she came out here to the fringe, and she decided to leave me in the lurch and grab the brass ring."
"Sounds like a charmer. Why didn't you come with her?"
Riddick smiled at the driver.
"You ask a lot of questions, Shazyle."
"Everyone says that."
"Double tip if you just do your job….in silence."
Shazgyle swerved to avoid a deep gash that splintered the sun-baked gully passing for a road.
"Come on," she said, laughing. "She left you for another man….for another woman…what?"
Riddick's smile metamorphosed into one of his patented smirks.
"I…couldn't join her. My hands were tied, you might say."
"Hmmmm…into a little of the S and M are you? Explains wearing those funky goggles."
"Just drive, Shazgyle."
They rode in silence for a bit. Suddenly, Riddick pointed to the horizon.
"Now, there's a sight you don't see every day!"
A huge, ringed gas giant was climbing in the east, seemingly in hot pursuit of the yellow sun that had risen just ahead of it.
"Yeah, that colossal beast riding the sky still gives me the willies," Shazgyle responded, "but you get used to it. Like you get used to it never being dark here."
"Never?"
"Cause of the two suns. Been driving this solar-hack for five years, haven't seen one minute of night." She let out a quick laugh. "That suits me fine, actually."
"You're not afraid of the dark, are you Shazgyle?"
"Only want it dark in my bedroom, Mr. Goggles Man!" Shazgyle laughed heartily. "Here we are!"
The cat-limo circled on a short approach road and squeaked to a stop amid a cloud of fine sand.
"You got someplace to stay, Riddick?"
"I'm hoping I do, hoping I do."
Shazgyle nodded.
"Looking to smooth things over with the missus; admit you were a bull-headed jackass and all…I got ya."
Riddick chuckled deeply.
"Shazgyle…you're alright."
"Listen…I'll pull into the maintenance shed, get a lube, wait for you for an hour or so. If you get lucky, just call me on the walkie-talkie, I'm gone. If you strike out, I can fix you up with a nice room at a local hotel."
"And collect a fat kickback, I bet."
Shazgyle tried her best to look wounded by his remark.
"A lady's got to have nice stockings for Christmas," she said.
Riddick looked at her bare, weather-etched legs and laughed again.
"Like I said, you're alright. I'll call you in half an hour either way."
Riddick hopped out of the cat-limo and looked up at the headquarters of Nakatomi Mining's footprint on the dusty, dirty world. He glanced over his shoulder at the gas giant, now fully exposed in its rise. For some reason it made him nervous, and he had long ago learned to listen to those shivers.
The cat pulled around the structure and out of sight, and Riddick proceeded into the lobby of the metallic barn of a reception building. A lone security guard watched him lazily, all the while working a book of crossword puzzles.
"I'm looking for Holly Riddick," Riddick said amicably.
"What's a four-letter word for a personal grooming device fashioned from raw materials?" the guard asked.
"Holly Riddick?" he repeated.
The guard ran his finger down his employee listing.
"Nope, sorry…no Holly Riddick here. Ya got the wrong planet, maybe?"
Riddick's eyes narrowed and suddenly another possibility dawned on him.
"Try Fry…Holly Fry."
"Ah…here we are…Holly Fry…she's in building 207Y, at the party." The guard pointed to Riddick's feet. "Just follow the colored guides for the Yellow Section, you can't miss it."
Riddick looked at the multi-colored lines snaking along the floor, all running parallel for a bit and then branching off into various interconnecting tunnel-ways.
"I feel like flippin' Dorothy," he mumbled, drawing a laugh.
"No flying monkeys here, though," the guard kidded.
Riddick started down the proper passageway. "Shiv," he called back over his shoulder.
"Huh?"
Riddick motioned towards the puzzle.
"Hey, thanks….that fits!"
"No problem," Riddick responded. "It always does."
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Riddick's shoes rang off the flooring beneath him as he followed his striped guide. He nodded silently to the few people he passed, and after he had walked for several minutes the sounds of voices stirred into a string quartet's music came down the arched passageway towards him, wrapped in metal echoes.
The voices grew louder and, finally, as he turned a bend, he emerged in a large cavernous hanger. A festively adorned tree towered in the center of the room, surrounded by about a hundred revelers with cocktails in hand. A waiter approached and offered him a drink, and Riddick gladly accepted.
"Come on, you're missing the party," the waiter said. "What kept you?"
Riddick downed the bubbly liquid in one gulp and helped himself to another glass before the man could hustle the tray out of reach.
They don't serve much champagne in Slam, Riddick thought with a wry smile. As he tilted his head back to salve his parched throat a second time a hand laid on his shoulder. In one motion he turned and held the glass out in front of him as a weapon.
"Sorry, I didn't mean to startle you," the middle-aged Japanese man facing him said. "But judging from your reflexes, you must be John. Holly has regaled us with tales of your days in Black Ops. I'm Mr. Takagi."
Riddick shifted the glass and shook the man's offered hand.
"Sorry," he said. "Reflexes."
"Not a problem." The head of Nakatomi's operations scanned the room. "Holly was here a moment ago; she's trying to finish up a few final details in our acquisition of Sockigawa Minerals."
Riddick thought for a second. "That would make the new company?..." he asked, expecting the worst.
"Sockitomi, of course."
"Absolutely."
"Let's look for Holly in her office," Mr. Takagi said.
Takagi lead the way down a long hall-tunnel and stopped to rap once on a heavy-gauge steel door. Riddick frowned at the nameplate: 'Ms. Fry'
"Holly, you in here?" Takagi asked as he pushed open the door.
Ellis Johns looked up from the desk where he sat, hunched over, shoveling Rocky Road ice cream into his mouth. He quickly swallowed a last scoop-full and wiped off the telltale mustache with the back of his sleeve.
"Just taking a little break from the festivities," Johns said. "You sure know how to throw a party, Mr. T."
"I trust you remember that ice cream is a controlled substance here, Ellis, especially Rocky Road and Chubby Hubby. Wouldn't look good for any member of my team to be caught with contraband."
"Oh…that…Just a tiny snack, Mr. T….No dead body, no foul, I always say…" Johns rushed forward to pump Riddick's hand. "You must be the famous Johnny that we have heard endlessly about."
Riddick shook hands without comment. Johns had 'weasel' written all over him.
"Uh…ah…" Johns was saved from his bout of nervous stuttering by the sudden appearance of Holly Fry in the doorway, carrying an armful of papers.
"John…you made it," she said.
She moved to place her workload on the desk and they embraced tentatively.
"Holly has been leading this division," Mr. Takagi said. "Scored a major coup for Nakatomi Mining. This party is in her honor."
"Show him," Johns said, gesturing towards a photo on Holly's desk. She waved his suggestion aside, but Johns slipped past her and, picking up the frame, handed it to Riddick.
"It's a built-it," Johns said. "One of only two on this hell-hole."
"Beautiful," Riddick said.
It was indeed. An Olympic-sized pool, set behind a large aluminum house.
"She's earned it," Mr. Takagi said. "Your wife drives a hard bargain, Mr. Riddick."
"Absolutely," he agreed.
There was a knock on the open door and a secretary stuck in her head.
"Ms. Fry, time for you to say something to the troops, somehow make them forget where they'll be spending Christmas."
"I'll be right back, John," Holly said, turning for the door. "Unless, that is, you'd care to come listen?"
"I killed a few people, sure," Riddick said, "but not nearly enough to be sentenced to listening to a Christmas pep rally. I'll just relax a bit here. Go knock 'em dead."
Once alone, Riddick emptied his pockets of shivs and, settling into a beanbag recliner, splayed his fingers open as far as possible.
"Make toes with your fists," he said, laughing to himself. Some too-chatty salesman on the shuttle over had told him that was the best way to unwind after a long voyage. "Son of a beeswax..it works."
Suddenly, the room went dim. Riddick glanced up, to the skylight. The yellow sky had faded to orange and went to amber as he watched. He became aware of some strange echoing sounds; became alarmed that they were louder by the second.
"What the frisbee…?"
His attention was wrenched from the noises by a chorus of screams from down the hallway. Riddick went to the door and peered carefully around the frame. The main conference room had gone dusky but he could make out large loping shapes pouring into the area from the tunnel and human forms scrambling to and fro. A few shots were fired, and he thought he could hear… wings flapping??
"What the fizzlesticks? Flying monkeys?"
He made a quick decision. Running as silently as possible, he tore down a nearby tunnel that angled directly away from the melee. He had no idea where he was going, he just wanted to put some distance between himself and whoever had crashed the party; to have time to think.
The corridor emptied into a dark storeroom. Riddick flicked his Bic and considered his surroundings.
"Think, gosh darn it....think. There has to be a way to call for help from the other areas of the compound."
His eyes darted around the room and another wry smile crossed his features. His gaze had alit on ….a pair of cymbals.
Grabbing the two, he snapped on the PA system and spun the volume knob up full.
"THIS ought to bring the cavalry running," he thought, and he spread his arms wide, preparing to crash them together.
Meanwhile, back in the conference room…..
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To be continued??

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