Disclaimer: I own nothing of Pitch Black or Richard B. Riddick, although sometimes I like to imagine that I do…mua haha. J/K…on with the story, I guess. Anything you DO NOT recognize, however, is mine so hands off the merchandise!

Meeka tucked her hands beneath her knees and pulled her legs closer to her, burying her head in the gap she made with her body. She hadn't thought about what would happen when she boarded the small ship. She didn't want to think about it now. She'd heard what the men had been saying in the café before she'd decided to board a ship and escape the mercs who'd been chasing her.

"You see that guy who dropped by earlier this morning to get more provisions?" One of the men had asked.

"Yeah. He looked a lot like that Riddick fellow, the one who's supposed to be some psychopathic killer. Didn't know he was still on his own. I could've swore I heard that some mercs took him to Butcher Bay recently."

"Yup. He escaped."

"Really? I thought that was impossible to do."

"Apparently not for him. He's legendary, man. Kind of a scary thought that he's here, isn't it? I don't think he's staying long, though. A day at the most. He can't afford to hang around one place for very long if he wants to stay a free man. You seen him yet?"

"No, but I saw a photo of him once. He's a real big guy…um, bald headed I think, and he wears welding goggles all the time, especially in sunlight. I don't know why though."

After that Meeka had left to find a ship to leave on after her encounter with the mercs. Running wasn't as easy as she'd thought. So, she'd gone to the docks and looked for a ship that was fairly easy to get on board unnoticed. And boy, had she chosen the wrong one. As soon as she'd hidden herself away in the cargo hold, she'd heard two pairs of footsteps coming up the ramp. Taking a glance, what was she to see except the infamous and notorious Richard B. Riddick himself, and a deliveryman with two crates on a wheelbarrow-like thing.

No! Don't tell me I got on his ship! Please! Surely God won't be that cruel. Why did I have to get on his ship? She considered jumping out of her hiding place to run off the ship before the ramp closed, but she didn't. She just sat there, stunned. Would he kill her if he found her? Would he just gut her with one of his infamous ships and dump her body on the nearest planet, or maybe put her through the garbage cremator? Her imagination made up thousands of twisted ways that he could and probably would use to kill her. But then, her luck got worse.

"How long are you going to be traveling, sir?" The young deliveryman asked as Riddick signed some kind of clipboard.

"Probably a month or so." Riddick replied absently.

She had to bite her lip to keep from letting out a yelp. She couldn't stay hidden for a month. There was the problem of hunger, and thirst, and she would have to go to the bathroom eventually.

The man took the clipboard and waved politely on his way off the ramp. "Have a safe journey, mister." Apparently, he doesn't know who he is talking to, Meeka thought to herself. She ducked behind a crate when Riddick walked by her and pressed a button on the wall beside a ladder. The ramp closed seconds later, trapping her inside with a merciless killer.

I have such great luck… She thought to herself wryly. What was she going to do when she had to go to the bathroom? Her breath caught in her throat when Riddick stopped at the base of the ladder and glanced over his shoulder in her general direction. Meeka's whole body went rigid as she waited for him to move. And at last, he turned and climbed the rungs to the floor above.

Meeka let out the breath she'd been holding and slouched against the wall in her little corner, trying to make herself as comfortable as possible. She folded her arms across her chest, trying to get the feeling of vulnerability to dissipate. Her eyelids drooped, even as she heard heavy footfalls coming back down to the cargo hold. Let him find me, she thought to herself. As long as I'm not conscious while he kills me, I'll be okay. The oxygen created by the ship's ventilation system made her weak and tired. It had been that way the last time she'd been on a ship. She usually got used to it after a time, but for the first hours of the voyage always left her weak and lightheaded. Allergic, the doctor had told her eons ago. He'd said it would make her groggy for a little while, but once her body became accustomed to the artificial air that she should be just like normal.

She glanced up to see a bald head come into view over the crate, his back to her, hands on his hips as he looked around for something, turning a slow circle. When he was facing her direction and starting toward her, her heart sped up in panic, but the rest of her didn't listen to her fear. She passed out.