There was only one ship on him. It was a wicked-looking little one-pilot job, it’s external elegance more reflective of the advanced state of Helion technology than any demand of design. A second bump jolted Riddick, but instead of a proximity charge this one was caused by the merc craft’s swift dive into atmosphere. He was going down too steep and too fast. Even as the hull’s external temperature began to rise sharply, the ship’s dispersion field proceeded to compensate by dissipating the intense heat.
	At such speeds, only advanced computational navigation systems allowed the Helion fighter to materialize right alongside the merc ship. He could see the pilot, grim-face, motioning for him to descend. Riddick nodded compliance and moved to adjust his position. Ever so slightly was all that was needed.
	Before the other pilot, or his inboard predictive gear, could react, the merc ship slipped underneath and into it. Debris flew from both craft. Riddick had timed the contact perfectly. Too much, and even at suborbital velocity both ships would have disintegrated. Too little, and he simply would have flashed past his attacker to emerge on the opposite side. But just enough, and one vessel or another was likely to be severely disabled.
	As Riddick had intended, it was the other.
-The Chronicles of Riddick (pages 34-35)