Rise the Renegade (Rork Sollix Book 1)

by George Donnelly

  “There are children in here?”

  Zero pointed straight ahead.

  Rork went to the cell door and stared into the cell across from his. There was nothing. It was too dark. His eyes became accustomed and he saw bodies. Small bodies. Many sat, against the walls, between, backs resting against each other and a few standing and walking.

  The metal door screeched open.

  “Get your hands off of my sister!”

  A girl sobbed.

  Rork’s heart leapt. If only it was Lala. No matter how horrible it is here, at least she would be here with me and away from Barbary. He gritted his teeth and his stomach turned. Stomach acid rose to the back of his throat. You will suffer, Barbary. He jammed an eye through the bars.

  Devi appeared followed by Anju. The guard held them each by their necks. They wore the throat collars, too, but had orange shirts, pants and slippers.

  “How about my clothes!” Rork yelled.

  The pot-bellied keeper opened the cell across from Rork and pushed the siblings in. He locked the door behind them.

  “My clothes, man! And I need meds!”

  “Too dangerous for clothes,” the guard said without pausing.

  Devi and Anju stood in the doorway, pressed up against the bars. There was simply no space in the cell.

  “They will ship us out the day after tomorrow, all of us, all of these children. What is our plan?” Devi asked.

  Zero appeared next to Rork and Rork stepped aside, surprised.

  “No escape for you two,” Zero said, pointing a long finger at Devi. “You will pass your short lives as slaves among rocks in the void, without hope or reprieve.” He turned to Rork and nodded. “And you, not much longer to live do you have.”

  10

  “I DO not like you. You are not like your legend,” Zero said.

  Rork and Zero stood in a far corner on the roof of the prison. Below them was more concrete. Around and above them, interlaced steel gate and barbed wire shut out the sky. Hundreds more prisoners milled about the open space.

  Rork turned to Zero and put his index finger in the emaciated man’s face. “I’m getting out of here, old man. Now. And not when I’m weak and thin like you.”

  “At least I have pants on.” Zero giggled.

  Rork tried to cross his arms but the restraints would only permit him to cross his wrists. He let them hang in front of him again. The warm morning sun pierced the steel fog for a moment and his back warmed. He turned himself around awkwardly, the ankle restraints clinking as he moved. Spacecraft rose from the port mere kilometers from his cage. He sighed and imagined himself rising in one of them. Space is freedom.

  “Who here most wants to escape?” Rork looked at Zero.

  “Only the one who endures is worthy of escape.”

  “Enough with the riddles! Who has been here the longest?”

  “I am the longest sufferer.”

  Rork rolled his eyes. “The guards treat you like a god. You don’t suffer in here.”

  “Indeed, I do not.”

  “You just contradicted yourself.”

  “Contradiction is in the eye of the beholder.” Zero looked at him out of the corner of his eye and giggled like a toddler again.

  “Are you ever serious?”

  “Where is the joy in that?”

  “Where’s the joy in here?”

  “Where is the joy out there?” Zero asked.

  “Oh, there’s plenty. But you won’t find my kind of fun meditating in your monastery.”

  “Nor will you find mine gallivanting out there like a mad man.”

  Rork crossed his arms. “Do you have anything to add to this escape?”

  The mystic scrunched his eyes shut and his head twitched from side to side as if he was having a seizure.

  Rork rushed to catch him.

  The mystic stopped, opened his eyes and grinned, his ivory choppers bright. “I just received a vision. You will be the first man to colonize a new solar system.”

  “You just said I was about to die!” Rork waddled away in disgust. “Let me know when you’re ready to deal. You know something. You want out of here, just like everyone else. And I can get you off the planet.”

  On the other side of the roof, the kids ran in circles, yelling and jumping. A few sat and stood around the edges of their group. Two guards circled the mass of kicking, screaming and even sometimes laughing stick figures.

  Anju and Devi sat together, their backs against the fenced wall perpendicular to Rork’s and talked. The pot-bellied guard who refused to clothe Rork approached them. He grabbed Anju’s long locks of neatly combed hair in his ham fist and hauled her up to her feet.

  Anju screamed.

  Devi stood up fast, took a step towards the portly guard, then retreated. “Let her go!”

  The guard pulled Anju toward the exit. He held her hair close to the scalp at waist height. She marched along behind him, hunched over, her eyes wide. She turned her head toward Rork and the guard jerked her back towards him.

  “Rush not into a quarrel not your own, lest you be considered a busybody.” Zero studied Rork under lowered eyelids. “Especially with Jelara.”

  “Hey! Fat man! Jelara!” Rork waddled towards the guard, his unkempt hair flapping in his face.

  Jelara scowled in his direction. He pulled a card from his pocket and walked faster.

  Rork changed direction toward the door, run-jumping now, his chains clinking lightly between his legs. “I’m talking to you, Gutbuster!”

  Anju scratched at Jelara’s hand. She grabbed his wrist in her two hands and tried to pull him back but he jerked her hair. She screamed, her mouth wide open. “Help me!”

  Devi ran after his sister but hesitated. He turned around and ran again. He grabbed the guard’s shoulder.

  Jelara turned in a heartbeat and punched Devi in the nose. Devi’s knees buckled and he hit the concrete.

  Jelara glanced at Rork. He reached the door and swiped his card. He pushed through the door.

  Rork launched himself through the door and grabbed Jelara’s belt with the tips of his fingers. Rork’s elbows hit the cement. The impact vibrated his funny bone and his grip loosened. He looked back. “Zero!”

  Jelara crumpled to the floor like a drunk gorilla. He let go of Anju. She jumped over Rork and ran back into the yard, her face contorted, her hair sticking up on all sides, like a black crown of stars.

  Really? Alone in the fight again. Lala would help me. Rork pulled himself to his knees but the guard was faster.

  Jelara rolled to his feet and pulled out his nightstick. He smacked Rork across the shoulder. Rork bounced with the blow. The next one came too fast. Rork fell to his side. Jelara hit him again.

  Rork lay on his side on the rough cement. Shaped shades of light registered on his eyes. Sounds vibrated his eardrums. But he felt nothing and his mind processed none of it, not even the passing time.

  Frigid liquid washed over Rork’s head and down his back. He drew in breath, his neck arched backwards. He found himself on all fours in the murk, a sliver of dull light escaping under a closing door.

  Back in the cage. He sighed. “What the hell, Zero?” He shook his head and water droplets arced across the cell. “How long have I been out, anyway?” He rose to a knee.

  The knee refused to rise. A chain clanked. He tried the other leg. He moved his arm. More clanking but rise he could not.

  “What the hell!”

  From far away, screams reached him, high-pitched wails and cries of outrage. More voices joined the cacophony.

  A slot in the door slid open. Heavy breathing came from behind it.

  “You only made it easier for me, 93478921,” Jelara said. “You gave me footing for separating all the children into the hole. Especially the girls. And I found some tasty ones.” He made a slurping noise and closed the slot.

  “Jelara!” Rork tore at his chains. “Jelara!”

  11

  RORK JERKED his left arm and the chain
jingled. This time, however, a light scraping of metal against rock accompanied the playful sound. Rork did it again. The sound was there. He didn’t imagine it.

  Black steel cuffs encircled his wrists. These connected to the jingling chain and the chain, in turn, gained its stopping power through a rusting baseplate anchored in the concrete floor.

  But someone skimped on the baseplate. And now it was loose.

  Sweat dripped from Rork’s forehead and onto the dusty floor. He was getting out of here now and that was that.

  The slot in the door slid open and Jelara’s bulbous nose appeared.

  “So, is the big bad space pirate enjoying his time out?”

  Rork steadied his breathing. He didn’t want Jelara to come in. He might check the chains, find them wanting and move him to a better cage. Worse, he might return him to Zero’s cell. Then he might never free the children. He needed to be in here, in the hole, across from them.

  Rork’s breath stuck in him and his lungs refused to exhale.

  Jelara closed the slot.

  Relieved, Rork sighed and breathed deep.

  Something swished and the door’s locking bolt echoed open. Jelara stood there in the entryway, his dead eyes surveying Rork’s defeat.

  Rork looked at the floor. Just leave me alone. Just leave me here. This is where I belong.

  The memory returned to him of its own accord. Dad, Jord and he boarded a Barbary ship to buy a fresh supply of corn from Earth. They had no other choice. The Sollix Fair Trading Company donated its last kilos of corn to the indie miners. The Sollix family itself was eating stale crackers. Their customers were desperate for the staple and Barbary was the Cartel-designated supplier.

  But Rork didn’t care about Barbary then. He was only nine. It was the children from that day that were burned into his memory.

  While Dad and Jord took a sample of the corn, Rork explored the rear cargo hold. Out of the twilight murk, a girl came to the bars and held his hand. She didn’t have blue hair then. It was her gentle green eyes that made an impression on him. That, and the dozen other child slaves with her.

  He couldn’t save her that day. That took a couple of years. But he didn’t abandon her. In the escape pod after he lost his family, Rork swore never to abandon anyone again. He wouldn’t start now.

  Jelara kicked Rork’s arm. “Ready to behave?”

  Rork arched his neck up and spit at him. No spittle left his dry mouth but the intention was clear.

  Jelara stepped on Rork’s hand and ground his heel into Rork’s fingers. Skin dug into bone, ligaments stretched and Rork suppressed the physical need to cry out. He hardened his face and met Jelara’s smiling eyes.

  Jelara’s smile fell. He took his booted foot off of Rork’s hand and kicked him hard in the ribs.

  Rork rolled to his opposite side. He took in a sharp breath and recoiled as his lungs intruded into cracked bone.

  “Your mother… is a dog,” Rork mumbled through the pain.

  A shadow fell on Rork from the doorway. Jelara strode out of the cell and slammed the door behind him. Two pair of footsteps thudded away and the heavy metal corridor gate screeched shut.

  Rork grinned. He jerked his left arm. That side ached but he jerked it a second then third time. The baseplate broke free of the cement. He stretched his hand out ahead of him and enjoyed the freedom.

  He looked toward the door and listened carefully. A distant click echoed through the hallway. He curled the chain in his left palm and listened. The sound did not come again.

  He shoved the freed spike under the baseplate that held his other hand and jimmied it about under each side, one after the other. It came free with a shower of cement dust.

  Rork stood up and made short work of the leg chains now that he had the proper leverage. He pulled on the cuffs and shoved the concrete-encrusted baseplate spikes between skin and steel. He wrapped the rusty chains around his limbs and tucked the ends in the respective cuffs.

  He tiptoed to the door, shivering, the sweat on his chest and back now evaporating. He squatted down and applied pressure to the slot. He glanced out through the small crack.

  A guard, his shiny nylon pants and desert-brown shirt too baggy to be Jelara, stood with his back to Rork at the door to what must be the children’s cell. He shifted his feet and Rork backed away.

  Rork stood up and leaned over, his stomach numb and empty. How long without a meal was it now? How long would it be? An open can of spam, the key turning back the metal lid, EDF-style — the image jumped into his mind. He pushed it away. A more attainable goal flashed in his mind. He shrugged. It was all he had.

  “Ahh, no! The prisoner is free!” he yelled in his best Indian accent. “Help!” Rork moved into the corner and faced the spot where the guard would enter. He waited.

  The slot opened. “Who—” A keycard swiped and the door popped free.

  Rork put the ball of his foot forward, then the next one.

  The guard appeared in front of Rork, facing him, his pistol drawn. He fired. The wall behind Rork exploded in fire and dust.

  Rork pivoted his back to the guard. With his right elbow he hit the thin man on the ball of his jaw.

  The guard’s head rocketed into the wall and he slid down into a pile of oversized clothes on the floor.

  Rork stripped the goon. The pants reached the tops of Rork’s ankles and the velcro wouldn’t close at his waist. The shirt zipper refused to go above his sternum. He cinched the gun belt at the last hole. It kept his pants up but his waist ached and he was sure the pants would soon split. The shoes were hopeless. The hat fit like an astrohelmet on a ship’s prow.

  Rork studied the puny thug. He would wake up and sound the alarm. He positioned his foot over the man’s sideways-facing head and jammed his bare foot down hard.

  A sharp crack echoed in the inhuman cell.

  Rork closed his eyes and sighed. His stomach grew heavy. He was oddly grateful for the lack of food so far during his stay. At least he wouldn’t leave with diarrhea.

  He stepped out into the hallway, his head held low, his face away from the camera at the exit door. He closed his cell door and it clicked. He walked to the children’s cell, swiped the card and opened it.

  “Stay back,” a child’s voice whispered.

  A chill spread across Rork’s gut. He stepped back.

  “We’ll kill you,” a girl whispered. “You’re already bleeding.”

  The door clicked shut.

  Rork put his hand to his stomach and held it up to his face. A thin trickle of blood ran the length of his palm. “Hey! Let me talk to Devi! I’m trying to save you. I’m Rork Sollix! The pirate!”

  The big metal door at the end of the hallway opened and three guards entered. One stayed at the door. Two came toward Rork.

  Rork moved his feet towards the children’s cell, then turned towards his own, where the guard lay. He put his feet back in place, saluted and looked at the floor.

  The two guards stopped in front of him. One smacked the hat off his head. Rork looked at him and raised a fist to strike. Jelara.

  The second one shocked Rork and he collapsed to his knees, his lungs begging for air that would not come.

  The pair grabbed his upper arms, just below the shoulder, one on either side and dragged him out through the big metal door. The elevator waited. They pulled him in and Rork faced the wall.

  His shoulders ached. He picked up his feet and put them under him but they never seemed to actually find the floor. His eyes rolled around. White. Everything was white.

  The elevator doors opened and the light was too bright. He tried to cover his eyes. An oven-hot wind hit the side of his face and his lungs throbbed.

  Feet and fabric shuffled and crunched to his right. The guards walked straight, then turned towards the noise. Rork found his feet and put them under him. They climbed steps.

  At the top, Rork peeled his left eye a micron. A hundred or more prisoners stood in neat rows four deep and six wide a few meters
below him on the ground. They wore white jumpsuits. Behind them, a small group of civilians sat in their varied dress. A transparent cage enclosed and protected them. They stared at their hands and each other.

  Jelara pulled Rork to his feet. His knees wobbled but he stayed upright.

  Rork scanned the area, both eyes open now. The diffuse light attacked his retinas from all sides, equally and at once. Above them was only sky. In the distance, he spotted the blue and yellow skyline of Delhi through the haze.

  Jelara put something rough around Rork’s neck. A voice boomed through the assemblage. His earcom activated and the voice simultaneously spoke directly into Rork’s eardrum.

  “We convene this morning to witness the execution by hanging of Rork Sollix, convicted pirate and long-time fugitive, finally captured by our very efficient and courageous Delhi Police just yesterday. Please take your seats.”

  Rork’s breath caught in his throat. He instinctively picked up his right foot to run but the two guards grabbed his arms and held him.

  12

  “HOOD THE prisoner.”

  One of the guards approached Rork, a hunk of dirty cloth in his hand. He pulled the opening apart. Dust cascaded out of it and hung in a stagnant sunbeam that managed to peak through the haze.

  “What about my trial? What are the charges? This is crazy! A man deserves a trial! To deny a man his rights is barbaric!” Rork jumped up and down and the wood gave way behind his feet. He fell backwards, his eyes wide and shoulders flexing in an instinctive attempt to balance himself with his now bound arms.

  The guard grabbed Rork’s shoulder and steadied him. An expression of bored irritation on his face, the mustached man held the eyeless hood open over the top of Rork’s head.

  “Wait!” Jelara climbed the steps to Rork’s right, a small but well-fed boy running ahead of him.

  Rork looked at the guard with the hood. “Really? A kid, too?”

  The guard ignored him and looked at Jelara.

  The boy reached Rork. He stood in front of the condemned man and touched his belly wound. He looked at his finger, then at Jelara. “Blood!”