This is a crossover with an Anne McCaffery book called The Ship Who Sang. A lot of the details will be included in the story, so you don't have to have read the book, but it's a really good book so you should read it anyway. I'm not entirely sure how far I'm going to take it, or where, but here's the start. Enjoy.
Disclaimer: I own nothing but the plot.
Riddick was running, as always. He'd crashed on this miserable little planet with it's never ending rain almost a week ago and the mercs who'd made him crash here had been hot on his ass ever since. There were only two of them left now out of a five man crew. Any less would have been insulting. He'd been running for nearly an hour straight, trying to find a place to lay low and regroup with little success.
He heard something then, a sound so beautiful he thought surely he must be hallucinating. He wasn't dehydrated, but hunger and sleep deprivation can make you hallucinate, too, and those he was suffering. He stopped to listen. The sound continued, and so he went toward it. It was like a song calling to him. No, wait. It was a song. Someone was singing. A woman, based on the tone. A sweet tenor that cut through the sound of pattering rain and summoned him just a little further. He traveled toward the sound and as he crested the next hill he saw something that made him fall to his knees.
A ship. An ancient ship, with the shape of a cliched rocket ship, but a ship nonetheless. A smooth titanium outer hull jutting out of the ground like a tower, the rest of it buried beneath years of dust and rock and mud. Then he realized the sound, the song, was coming from this mysterious ship. Cautiously he approached it, hand resting lightly on his shiv, just in case.
"Hello?" he asked quietly. The song continued, so he raised his voice a little. "Hello!" After a second the song stopped.
"Who are you?" A woman's voice rang out like a bell, presumably the woman that was singing. Riddick thought for a moment. He couldn't very well tell her that he was Richard Riddick, escaped convict and murderer. Perhaps just a first name.
"My name's Richard.Who are you? How long have you been here?" There was only silence for a moment, then the woman spoke again.
"Richard..." she seemed to be pondering over the name, like it could mean something else, "My name is Helva. XH-834, to be exact. I've been here for, well, about two hundred years, actually."
Riddick's eyes grew wide. What sort of being could survive two hundred years on this miserable planet? Two hundred years at all, really.
"Two hundred years? You must be joking. What are you that you could survive two hundred years?" he scoffed.
"I most certainly am not joking. I could survive here a hundred more if I reserved my nutrients." Her tone was almost offended, but even with that her voice was still enchanting.
"What are you!" he demanded. There was only silence for a moment, then the metallic groan of a rusted lift descending to ground level in front of him.
"Why don't you come aboard out of the rain and we can discuss that. You're welcome to anything in my galley, if it's still any good." Riddick was skeptical though his stomach let out a resounding 'yes'.
"You would let a total stranger aboard your vessel? How do you know I won't kill you? And more importantly, how do I know you won't kill me?" The woman let out an exasperated groan.
"Good grief, if I wanted to kill you I could have done so already. Honestly, I would like the company. I haven't spoken to anyone in years, since my brawn died. C'mon, I don't bite."
Cautiously, Riddick boarded the lift and was brought to the outer air lock of the vessel's main cabin. He stepped inside slowly, scanning the interior for any signs of the vessel's inhabitants. There were none.
"What beautiful eyes you have, how did you get them?" The woman's voice now came from a large titanium column in the center of the room.
"Who are you? Where are you?" Riddick was starting to get agitated.
"I told you, my name is Helva, and I'm here."
"I know your name, but where in the vessel are you!" he demanded. The woman sighed heavily.
"I am the vessel."
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