Security teams consisting of six men each fanned through the back hallways of the casino, trying to find those responsible for the dead agents littering the floors.
Cody Vale walked easily past them, still wearing an official badge around his neck that stated his name as Christopher Valence, office assistant. He'd carefully constructed his disguise, obtaining a pair of dress-casual shoes, dark slacks, and a white collared shirt with sleeves that started out ironed before getting rolled up to his elbows for the sake of comfort. A pair of glasses and his short stature completed the picture. He looked like an office assistant. No one questioned his passage. If they'd frisked him, they would've found plenty of deadly goodies stashed on his person.
Cody searched the entire casino for his lost charge without meeting any more resistance, but he couldn't find Dallas anywhere. He found evidence of a struggle back the way he'd sent the kid packing, but no signs indicating if the enemy had taken Dallas, or if he'd gotten away—except for a broken pair of shades.
The mysterious tail had disappeared, and Cody could only wonder who that guy worked for. The newcomer was too old to be a regular military, or even Task Force. Yet the way he moved, stood, told Cody the guy could handle himself. If he had to guess, he'd say the old timer surprised Dallas' attackers, and grabbed the kid.
If they'd arrived at the casino just an hour earlier, they could've made a clean getaway with Dallas and collected a hefty paycheck for his safe return to his family. Instead Cody had gotten shot at, and lost the mark. He couldn't even find proof of life at this point.
After giving the pit crew Dallas had raced with a method for contacting him should they see the boy again, Cody decided to cut his losses and return to the Le Senata, the ship he shared with his boss and business partner, Dominic Kade.
Cody would be reporting his second mission failure ever.
Kade would understand—he hoped.
Riddick wasn't sure how to tell Jack he'd brought a Rysen male with a strong resemblance to the universe's most recent Con-X into their home. So when she returned from work, he didn't waste a moment in dragging her to the living room, and letting her see for herself.
In near shock, Jack sank down to sit on the edge of the couch, stroking the sleeping boy's cheek with her fingertips.
"Where did you find him?" she asked, turning her soft green eyes back to him.
Riddick shrugged, crossing his arms over his chest, standing over both of them. He'd resigned to stay close, in case the kid turned out to be dangerous.
"Same place I find all the weirdos I hang out with. Straight off a lunar casino's race pad. Kid took a nasty hit, so I brought him here. Figured you'd want me to. He's in trouble, Jack. Real trouble."
She only shook her head in awe. "My God, he looks just like Dom. He can't be, obviously, but he looks just like him, only—softer."
Riddick shrugged. "He's no professional killer for hire. He's wild in a fight, doesn't have the control Conte did. Kid's stubborn, but he's got no focus."
Biting her lower lip, Jack peered up at him. "What're we going to do with him, Rick? I mean, do you think he's Dominic's son?"
Riddick continued to study the boy's face. His memories of Conte had faded some, but with Jack recognizing the kid as well, he'd started to dread that it might be the only possible explanation. He may have brought the devil's own son into their lives. "The thought crossed my mind. How long ago did Conte die? Cam was only two or three, so it's been fifteen years, or more. That's cutting it close. Excluding the possibility that he's done extensive traveling in cryo, I'd say this kid's a little older than Rachel, and I'm not even sure you got pregnant until after Conte bit it. Besides, from what I know of Rysen biology, Dom would've had to find a female of his own species in order to have a child. I wouldn't give good odds he got out enough to find one. Not with the whole galaxy breathing down his neck."
"Mom?" the boy asked, startling them both.
They turned to look, finding Dallas blinking his eyes. He placed one hand over Jack's, where she'd let it come to rest on his neck, and followed her arm by touch to her face. His fingertips lightly brushed over her features, then dropped away.
"Who are you?" he asked, seeming to draw into himself, unsuccessful in masking the fear from his voice.
Riddick knew that 'lost little boy' act would go over well with his wife. She couldn't resist helping those in need. Then again, the more he saw of the kid, the more he thought it might not be an act.
"You were in a fight, Dallas. You remember that?" he asked.
The kid nodded, the heel of his palm coming to rest against his forehead. "Yeah, I remember. Just before the lights went out. They, uh, they must've damaged the implants in my eyes. I was born without functioning optic nerves. That's why it looks like I don't have irises. I had to get some parts of my eyes replaced," he explained, his lifeless gaze staring off into space. He turned his face in their general direction, but didn't seem to look at either of them. "Listen, do you think I could call my mom? Let her know I'm okay?"
Jack smoothed his hair, seeming to have taken a liking to the boy already. "Sure you can, honey. What's her name?"
"Pace Prize. That's my real name. Dallas Prize. I ran away because I got into some trouble after a car wreck. The authorities flipped out when they saw my eyes. They mistook me for something inhuman, and I was afraid they were going to kill me."
"Well, you're safe now, Dallas. Let's get you up so you can let your mother know where you are," Jack said, taking his arm and helping him to his feet. She led him to the comm unit in the kitchen.
Riddick shuffled after them. He'd have to speak with his wife about getting attached. The more he thought about it, the more his insides crawled at the possible error in judgment he'd made by saving Dallas, and bringing him home. Rick could blame habit all he wanted, but this one time it might've been better to go to New Mecca's authorities, make them keep the kid safe.
He just hoped he wouldn't live to regret it.
His mother never became hysterical. Not when she got mad, and not when she worried. Dallas was glad for that when he sent out a signal code into the wide world of the Network. He didn't think he could deal with an eccentric mother right then. Not after completely failing at life
It took a few minutes, but eventually she checked their drop point for attempts at contact, and sent an answering code, connecting them.
He couldn't see her face on the screen, but hearing her soothing voice was enough. "Dally? Are you okay, baby?" she asked, tone soft.
If he'd been a few years younger, he might've choked up and begged her to come get him.
He hated feeling alone in the dark...
"Yeah, Ma, I'm fine. I got into a fight, but I'm okay now. I miss you, a lot," he admitted, tilting his head toward the floor. His fingers had found a grove in the desk he sat at, and he traced over it repeatedly, toward and away from the source of his mother's voice.
He wanted to reach out, touch her, have her hug him. So much for going out and tackling the universe like a big boy...
"I miss you too. Are you in a safe place?" she asked, only a slight amount of worry reaching his sensitive ears.
"Yeah, I'm safe," he reassured her softly.
"Good. There are people after you who mean you harm, Dallas. Just stay where you are, and we'll come get you. When we're all together again, we can find a new place to live where they won't find us."
"Okay," he said.
The woman who'd been so nice to him stepped in then, giving a location where they could meet in the city, once his mother came for him.
Jack, the woman told his mom her name was Jack.
Strange name for a woman.
He got to speak briefly with his sister, Ticey. Then with Aunt Lasia, and Uncle Rhys. He almost choked up talking to his sister, feeling guilty for having left her alone without anyone to protect her. Fortunately, he spoke with his Aunt Lasia after that, and she tough-loved him back into feeling strong, like he was big enough to survive both living with strangers, and having lost his vision.
Finally, he said good-bye to his mother, and then the link was broken. Ten days, they were a whole ten days away from his location under optimal travel conditions. It was a long time to wait in the company of strangers—especially while blind.
"He's lost his vision again," Pace admitted once the link was broken. Her nose began to sting, and the room swam in the tears collecting in her eyes. "He must be so scared..."
Lasia's husband, Rhys, had taken Ticey to tuck her back into bed. Pace thanked God for that. At least her daughter wouldn't have to witness her mother breaking down.
In private, she'd cried so often lately. At least this time the tears partially came from relief.
"He'll be fine," Lasia reassured her, wrapping her arms around Pace's shoulders, hugging her from behind. "He came from a strong family, and if I do say so myself, I think we did a damn good job raising him. It took all three of us—Rhys, you, and I—but he seems to have a good head on his shoulders. Hmm?"
Pace let a hand come to rest on the other woman's arm to thank her for the kind words, and she nodded an affirmative.
They were a strong family, a strong pack. She and Lasia had grown up together, meeting in the thieves' guild, and then moving on to work with the Resistance in their early and mid-teens. When Dallas came along, Pace feared raising him alone; but Lasia and Rhys never abandoned her. All of them started out war orphans, but they vowed never to allow Dallas to experience the same fate.
"We'll need help getting to New Mecca. There're military checkpoints on the lanes between here and there. None of us can pass the screenings," Pace said after clearing her throat. She had to keep her mind on business or they'd never get there.
Las straightened up, squeezing Pace's shoulder with one hand. "Call that guy you met in your classes. Brodell. He likes you. If he thinks you might let him close to you, he'll come along. We'll cut him loose wherever he wants to go when we've got Dallas back."
Pace smiled a little. There was no denying it—in spite of Rhys' calm, unwavering male presence, Lasia remained their leader. In the Resistance, Lasia learned to lead others, and could do so with graceful, but brutal force.
"I shouldn't use Robert like that. He's been nothing but a friend to me."
"Dallas is more important than betraying his trust," Las reminded her.
Pace nodded, her qualms instantly vanishing. "I know."
"Call him," Lasia said, walking toward the door, back to the bedroom she shared with her husband.
"You know I will. Good-night, hemosa," Pace called softly after her, using the Rysen word for 'sister.'
"Good-night, hemosa pecena," Lasia replied.