False Dawn

A plug was running from the laptop to an outlet in the wall. The screen had gone dead after a couple hours, and Jack had been almost thankful for the short reprieve, but had immediately started trying to get it running again. Her head throbbed from reading so much, her eyes burned from her short bouts of crying, her knuckles hurt from when it all got to be too much and she started hitting things.

Trow had come to her. He'd found her repeatedly punching the metal wall, ignoring the blood running and flying from her abused hands. She'd stopped, breathing hard, eyes bloodshot and narrowed, and just stared at him.

"What, Jack?"

She shook her head, not able to put it into words. Not sure if there should be words. "Go."

He'd nodded slowly and left without another word. She almost wished he hadn't. It wasn't right. It wasn't fair. She didn't want the burden of knowing so much. She was too young. A continuous stream of excuses came to her. She needed to stop reading, not sure if she could stand to open one more file, not sure if she could look at one more picture. Not sure if she could hate Chem Industries any more than she did right now.

She'd had to piece most of it together. It was in no way in chronological order. The files on Riddick as a young boy had just been that. His training, his education, his healing. Nothing hugely enlightening there. Nothing horribly upsetting beyond what she had known already.

Then she'd run into a file on the first 'subject'. Files on a test called the AR-Virus. These had scared Jack just to look at them. How was a virus connected to Riddick? Whatever the connection, she couldn't imagine it being good. But she'd read. It had been like a horrible accident, she couldn't NOT look.

The AR-Virus, short for Alien-Biology Regenerative Virus, had been tested on ten 'subjects'. All of them homeless, vulnerable, and pregnant. Riddick's mother, listed only as Lorra, was shockingly still alive and living on Earth. The file gave a brief and incensed account of how the patient, Lorra, and managed to disguise herself and sneak past security. She had been apprehended later, minus the babe. Jack had to smile at how much that must have pissed off Chem Industries. An AWOL infant.

Little else was said about Lorra, just that she was monitored systematically and was still virus free. There had also been no side effects. The woman was living a presumably normal life. She'd been 20 when she was taken into custody without the child, which made her about 55 now. She had married, and had three more children, all tested and normal.

Riddick had a family.

Jack sat and cried at this. At what a young pregnant woman must have gone through to prefer her child anonymously raised by strangers than susceptible to the monsters at Chem Industries. To abandon your newborn in a dumpster so that he would have a better life without you. It made Jack's heart ache, for the grieving mother and the unfortunate son.

Riddick's file picked up at age eight. First there were reports on an unusual case in a children's hospital. Then they had him. Pictures of a young smiling, carefree Riddick, with hair. That had made her smile. The lists of his training and capabilities were astonishing. They'd turned him into a nearly indestructible killer at the age of twelve.

Reports of his injuries, his rapid healing. One after another. There had obviously been quite a few. Broken bones, torn muscle and tissue, bullet wounds, extensive bleeding, what the hell was that? What did they do, try to bleed him to death to see if he'd survive? Riddick had never mentioned any testing done on him.

The reports on the other nine 'subjects' were there too. They were actually worse than Riddick's. Victimized at early ages. It seemed that Chem Industries was enjoying playing with their new toys. She could read the underlying fascination in their healing abilities, the near glee when they discovered that the more often a subject was injured and had healed, the faster it went the next time. One subject, a girl, had been killed at age 7. They had broken her back to see if she would survive it. She didn't.

Seven more were put into training programs like Riddick had been, but at a much earlier age. The boys seemed to be doing better than the girls, so one of the other surviving females had been further tested in the 'healing process and capabilities'. It had some profitable side effects. The more she was hurt the stronger she got, until she was finally surpassing the male subjects, at least in healing, and pain tolerance.

Jack's own file was beyond disturbing. Seeing it had brought back all the rage and anguish of those months in captivity, but nothing could have prepared her for what she read.

'Subject tested positive for the AR-Virus'. A cold shiver passed through her. Oh, God, I'm infected! She suddenly felt dirty and victimized in a way that surpassed any of the lingering feelings after her numerous rapes. What did it mean? She read on, afraid to learn more, but unable to NOT read. 'Blood found on the subject tested positive to be male subject Richard B. Riddick's. It is concluded that his blood entered her blood stream and mass-produced the virus. Female subject is undeniably infected.' Further down a side note read: First subject found to be infected in this fashion. Will it kill her?

Jack nearly vomited. What in the fuck?! She didn't want some alien virus in her!

She just sat and stared at her hands in disgust for long minutes. Finally she continued, though she didn't know what else there could possibly be to read. There were only two more files, both named variations of 'Generation 3'.

'Female subject Audrey J. Nevada, a.k.a. Jack, was found to be carrying offspring. Tests indicate that child is indeed fathered by male subject Richard B. Riddick.' There was all her blood work, vital stats. Thirty-two weeks worth, she skipped, skipped, then stopped. 'Male subject Offspring in vitro has conclusively been found to be carrying the AR-Virus'.

Then there were pictures of a hefty squalling purplish baby. Jack's heart stopped beating. 'Male subject Offspring, to be named male subject Gen 3, was born at 1635. Birth weight: 9lbs. 12oz. Birth length: 24 inches. No complications with birth, though mother is bleeding heavily.'

Jack's hands clenched so tight on the portable that the screen popped, going dead. Those motherfuckers! They'd dumped her on a freezing planet with an infant they had probably stolen from some unsuspecting parent. Her son was alive!

She shook the laptop, wanting to see more, but it was dead. Damn! She forced the disk out and ran from her room. There was more. There had been a picture. She needed to see more!

Trow looked at her strangely as she rushed into the cockpit and headed for the main programming console.

"Is this secure?" she asked in a rush, nearly yelling at him.

"Secure?"

She scowled at him, "Yeah! Secure. Is it fucking secure?"

"Yeah, Jack. It's secure. What the hell?" He was rising and coming toward her as she dropped into the chair before the console and dropped the disk into the tray.

"What is this?" he whispered as he saw the CI logo flash on.

"My worst fuckin' nightmare," she growled and quickly reopened the file on 'Generation 3'.

She literally gasped when she scrolled down to the picture. Little fist tucked into his slobbery toothless mouth, dark green eyes staring at the camera. "Oh, God," she whispered and touched the screen.

"What is this?"

Jack ignored him. She scrolled down further, not really needing to read the reports stuck in between the photos. Accept for the first picture, the baby had some sort of injury in each. Arm wrapped in this one, head wrapped in this one, and in the last one he was wearing a cast. A tiny little cast covered his arm.

She had heard Trow's whispered words as he read as quickly as he could as she scrolled down. 'Subject Gen 3 showing impressive healing capabilities.', '...healed more rapidly than would be expected.', 'Subject is showing indications of elevated IQ...'.

"What is this?" he finally whispered, as Jack just sat staring at the baby sitting in a booster seat, grinning a huge toothless grin at the camera.

"That's my son," she whispered.

"What?"

She reached out and touched the cold screen, wishing it were the soft warm skin of the infant there. She couldn't help but to smile in return at his sweet smile. Was he laughing? It almost looked like it. His innocent little eyes gleamed with delight, as he seemed to be banging his cast-covered arm on the table before him. So innocent, so vulnerable.

Jack stood and took the disk out, hating to see his little picture disappear. "Trow, do I have any wages coming?" Her voice was distant, her mind quickly formulating a plan.

"Jack, I . . ." He frowned as he stood before her. Finally he shook his head, "Jack, I don't know a damn thing about you, but I'll help you." He sighed and she looked up at him for the first time.

"Thank you, but I can't let you. I'll take any wages you owe me, but that's all I can let you do."

He smiled a bit, "Yeah, I owe ya a bit. Where do you need to go?"

Jack shrugged, not really sure what she needed to do. "I don't know. The nearest planet with a Chem Industries agent on it."

"What are you going to do?"

Her jaw ground together hard enough to make her teeth hurt. "Get my son back."