Free The Chronicles of Riddick by Alan Dean Foster

neighbored their own. Ignoring them, Imam lowered his gaze and whispered urgently to his wife.
    “We take nothing. Nothing but ourselves.”
    He sensed they did not have much time. Putting his hands protectively behind his wife and daughter, he guided them away from the only home they had known and off into the darkness of the city night. It did not matter that he was an important member of the government. It did not matter that his financial resources were substantial. Only one thing mattered anymore.
    Reaching the shelter on the other side of the river that would protect his family from the lights that were falling from the sky.

V
    D isdaining the speed and convenience an internal conveyance would have provided, Riddick had climbed the exterior of a dark building until he reached its roof. Though it would have seemed difficult to anyone else, it had been an easy ascent for him, far simpler than many he had been forced to make on less civilized worlds. Now he stood and looked up, his view and field of vision much improved.
    The sky was aflame with flashes and bursts of brilliant destruction, as if two flocks of phoenix were engaged in mortal battle. The fire grew steadily more intense as more and more defensive weaponry was brought online. The noise was overwhelming. Riddick increased his pace, sprinting over the rooftops. While citizens below gawked openly at the aerial conflict, even with his goggles on he was forced to shield his uniquely sensitive eyes from the brightest explosions.
    The gap between buildings that loomed before him was clearly too wide for any human to leap. As such, it required extra effort on his part to clear it. Feet first, he slammed down hard on the other side. As he did, atmosphere and ground began to quake all around him. There was something new in the air, and it wasn’t the scent of roses.
    Unimaginably vast, the dark mass was descending under exquisite control. It loomed above the city, hovering as if with a mind of its own. Within, individual minds functioning as one were deciding where to move first. As Riddick continued to run, the mass shifted slightly toward the center of the capital. Defensive weaponry raised harmless blisters of fire on the object’s flanks, deflected by its massive screens.
    Perhaps something emerged from the underside of the mass. Or it might have let loose with a wave projection instead of particulate matter. Whatever the source, the result was a shattering concussion. For an instant, the center of the city was lit up as if by sunlight. Seeking shelter, any shelter, Riddick leaped just as the shock wave reached him.
    Throughout the city, chaos, as it usually did in such situations, reigned. Panicked citizens scrambled for the imagined safety of strong buildings, monuments, hillsides—anyplace they could think of. One of the first and most natural sources of shelter were the public transit stations that lay underground. It was there that Imam had taken his family, not only to escape the attack, but in hopes of securing speedier transportation to the assembly point than mere walking could provide. To his delight and relief, there was an automated transporter car already in the station. Leading his wife and child, he struggled to force a path through the surging mob, not all of whom were trying to board the vehicle.
    Then the effects of the same tremendous explosion that had blown Riddick off his rooftop struck, and the interior of the station went completely dark.
    The lights of the capital of Helion Prime were failing, the dominating beacons being extinguished one by one from the center toward the countryside. Hovering above the destruction and devastation was the single black mass. Beneath it, replacing the joyful light of the beacons, was an impact cloud: ominous in its implications, implacable in its spread. After a moment, as if studying what it had done, the black mass began to move again, slowly, but with defined, inimical purpose. Looking for something else