Rise the Renegade (Rork Sollix Book 1) (18 page)

“I was due for a bath.” Rork edged over to the wall and sat up against it. He tucked a pulse pistol into his underwear.

“That rain could be radioactive.”

Rork grimaced. “Oh brax. Luna City could become uninhabitable.”

“You asked why I care.”

Rork met her eyes and nodded.

“He tried to force me to marry him. He kept me against my will. I was there, inside the Cylinder. It’s a beautiful community. We can’t destroy it, you understand?”

“What if it just gets destroyed? You don’t fyuke Luna City and get away with it. You’re not the only one who knows where it is, right?”

She held out her hand, palm down, to silence him. “But it’s built on evil: on slavery, rape, murder. I saw only a glimpse but it was... just horrible. I can’t find the words, you know?”

The elevator doors opened and a perfectly-coiffed gray-haired lady stepped out. She wore a red dress and she smoothed her hair back before she spoke.

“I saw you on the cameras. You are Rork Sollix, aren’t you?” she asked.

Rork grinned, his eyes half-closed. “Indeed I am, ma’am. How can I be of service?”

She shook her head and waved her hand in front of her face. “No, you’ve done enough for me, you and your father. Just... Oh, come on.” She stepped back into the elevator. “Hurry before someone else sees you!”

Mary Ellen wrapped her warm arm around Rork’s back and helped him up. They walked to the elevator and the old woman tapped the panel to close the door.

The front door opened and a man in a dark blue raincoat ran in. “Hold the elevator,” he yelled.

The lady jammed her well-manicured, mustard yellow fingernail into the panel again and again and the doors slammed closed in the man’s scruffy face.

“Should I be worried?” Rork asked.

The lady turned, her hands folded in front of her against her body. She took a solemn breath. “I’m Mrs. Dalrymple. And I could see from a mile away that that man had bad energy.”

Rork grinned. “Okay.”

The doors opened on the thirty-third floor with a soft flush of air. Mrs. Dalrymple waddle-shuffled right and opened the first door of at least thirty on that side alone. She took two steps in, turned and smiled.

“Welcome to capsule 3301! My humble abode.” She tapped the wall and a slab grew out of it at a right angle. “Lay him down here, honey.”

Mary Ellen dragged him over, his feet increasingly refusing to rise. She laid him down, his head near the window, his legs close to the door.

He sighed. “I’m just going to close my eyes.”

“Sorry, honey, now I know these cramped quarters are no big deal for space rats like you,” Mrs. Dalrymple said with a tweak of Rork’s cheek, “but I can barely stand it. So I’m afraid I can’t invite you to spend the night.”

“We need to get—” Mary Ellen started.

“Now, we’re going to give you a sponge bath and get those nasty rags off of you. Mary Ellen, I know you’ll give me a hand,” the lady said with a wink and a grin, “and then we’ll attend to your health. Have you back up there among the stars in no time. Oh yes.”

“Sounds good to me,” he mumbled.

Mary Ellen scowled. “I’m not sponge-bathing him. Let him do it himself.”

Rork giggled.

Mrs. Dalrymple walked over to her. “Now dear, Rork here is a strong man doing a dangerous job and he needs a strong woman with him, ready to take on any—”

“I’m not his woman. And I won’t be any man’s woman.”

“Oh dear, one of those, eh? Well, let’s make the best of it, shall we?” Mrs. Dalrymple walked to the space under Rork’s shelf and popped a drawer out. A plastic bucket clomped to the artificial hard wood floor and other items dropped into the receptacle with muffled plunks.

“Take this, honey doll,” Mrs. Dalrymple whispered in his ear.

Rork rolled over and held out his hand.

“Open,” she said, and he obliged. She dropped two tiny, white tablets into his mouth and he swallowed.

“This will slow the onset of your disease and will give you some relief from the symptoms.”

“How do you know about that? How did you even find us?” he asked.

“It’s just a little something I cooked up in the community garden out back. Added a few extra ingredients of my own selection, like my great grandma taught me. It’s an old medicine. Worked for your daddy.” She ducked under his shelf again and rummaged around. “I have a few more that I’ll leave with Mary Ellen. Take two per day for a month and you should be all set.”

A modicum of strength returned to his limbs and the electric fire of the disease eased. He sat up. “You know my dad? He had this, too?”

“Anorxoma?” She stood up and nodded. She kicked the now-empty bucket towards Mary Ellen. “Down the corridor a ways there is a little kitchen. Be a dear and fill it about three-quarters.”

Mary Ellen scooped up the bucket, her lips pursed. “We need to get going,” she said to Rork.

Mrs. Dalrymple threw the objects in her hands to the floor. “Well, how do you expect the man to be any use to you? He’s on his death bed. Haven’t you noticed? That and his clothes are ripped to shreds, he’s filthy and I smell liquor on his breath, too. This man, this good man, is worn out, burnt out, a fuelless rocket,” she said touching her neck and turning to Rork, “No offense to your manhood, of course, my dear.”

“When you’ve got—” Mary Ellen started.

“Are you going to get the water or not, young lady? If that’s what you consider yourself.”

“Fine,” Mary Ellen mumbled. She turned, opened the door and it closed gently behind her with a soft hydraulic hiss.

“I hope you weren’t thinking of putting a ring on that one,” Mrs. Dalrymple said.

Rork grinned, his eyes at half-mast again, his strength evaporating.

“Now get those clothes off, young man.”

Rork pulled what remained of the space suit off his chest and feet. He bumped his bad foot and cringed.

“You seem to be missing a chunk of foot. Your father swore off such adventure as you’re now known for.”

“How did you know him?” He looked up at her and studied her face. “I don’t remember you.”

“Oh well, he called on me for certain manly needs from time to time. You know. And I took good care of him, I promise you that. If I wasn’t so over the hill now, I’d proposition you for the same. I’m a strong, independent woman. But I know how to take care of a man, too.” She grabbed Rork’s foot and ripped the bandage off.

Rork gripped the space suit rags in his two hands and groaned.

“Sometimes it’s the quickest cut that is the most merciful.” She sighed. “This bone has to go, darling. It’s protruding from the wound and you’re going to re-open it with every step you take.” She shook her head.

“I... I’d like to wait on that.”

Something clicked nearby and the agony tensed Rork’s muscles. He tried to stand up but she forced him back down. He rocked up and down on the shelf, suppressing his screams.

“Now, now. It’s not that bad. I just had to take off that nub of a metatarsal. It’s no big deal really and this will free you up. Now hold on.” She applied a cool liquid to the burnt flesh of his foot and a new burning plagued him.

“Come on,” he mumbled through clenched teeth.

“Just a little more. Just adding a sealant, to protect it from further infection. Then I’ll—”

The door burst open and a hail of laser shots sparked across the capsule. Rork drew his pulse pistol from the waistband of his underwear and put three quick shots through the door. A body wrapped in a dark blue raincoat slumped to the floor and gurgled.

“Help me, Jupiter!” Rork said.

Mrs. Dalrymple lay flat on the floor, burning discs smoking from her heart, neck and right eye.

“I
SPREAD
death wherever I go!”

Rork limped behind Mary Ellen in his underwear, his foot hastily wrapped in a gauze bandage. “And I didn’t even get the sponge bath.”

She stopped short and pointed to a cargo sled. “That’s it.”

The long, low, rectangular yellow box sat on the auxiliary landing platform like a heap of ejected space junk.

He shook his head. “They call them sleds for a reason. They’re impossible to maneuver. You set them on a trajectory and they just go, and fast. There’s no power steering, it’s just dead speed.”

She nodded. “That’s what we’ll need to get out of there. Larger forces are at work now. You can’t fyuke Luna City with impunity. There’s going to be a major reaction. Everyone will be gunning for Barbary now. We’ll have to hurry if you’re to get your revenge.”

“How do you know so much? Where did you find that old lady, by the way?”

“I know things.” She shrugged.

“Can I at least get some new clothes before we go? Something to eat?”

The light cut off and Rork looked up. A sharp-prowed ship flew overhead, above the dome. Then a hiss to his left. A small EDF shuttle landed near him. Black-armored troops piled out.

“Stop right there, terrorist!” one of them yelled.

“Oh, Jupiter.” Rork hobbled toward the sled and started up the ramp. Behind him, dozens of pairs of boots hit the ground, weapons clicked and voices screamed at him.

“Hurry up! Remember, you have to pilot this thing out of here.”

He reached the top, Mary Ellen right behind him. The ramp closed and the sounds of the EDF soldiers disappeared. He took a seat in the cockpit and hit the red ignition button at his lower right. A low rumble sent a wave of turbulence through the floor and his chair. His sight blurred momentarily as his eyeballs pulsated in tune with the ship. He strapped himself in with a comforting click. If they burned up in some atmosphere or in a collision, at least he’d be secure. He smirked.

Second and third EDF shuttles landed and dozens more troops poured out of them. Rork’s radio blinked with an incoming call. His radar showed the earnest red blip high above him and in his flight path. It was the main EDF ship, a destroyer likely, maybe even his old friend the
John McCain
.

“Should I strap in?” she asked from behind him.

“Only if you want to survive this insanity.”

He switched to takeoff mode and jammed the accelerator forward. Laser shots bounced off the viewscreen and sizzled on the hull. A cloud of aqueous air burst from under the ship and blasted the soldiers onto their backs. The ship zoomed straight up. He held the radar blip in the corner of his eye. He made straight for it.

“We’re boxed in!” Mary Ellen found the co-pilot’s seat and strapped herself in.

Rork slowed the vertical acceleration, punched it into maneuvering mode and turned right towards the spaceport. “I can’t tell...”

“Look ahead to your left,” Mary Ellen said. “There’s a narrow corridor that leads to the spaceport and from there the exit—”

“Help me, Jupiter!” he yelled.

Five-hundred meters ahead, a heavy door lowered across their narrow flight path. Rork arced the sled down hard but the result was only a gentle incline.

“This thing handles like a damned frozen TV dinner!” he pushed up the accelerator again.

She leaned forward. “That door rises from the floor, too! It’s titanium, five meters thick. Once it locks into place, we’ll be stuck.”

“What the hell have you gotten me into?” he asked.

“You were already in it when we met, you drunk gorilla! You can’t blame me for this! Go faster!”

“I’m at max acceleration for this piece of junk!”

There was precious little space between the two interlocking doors now. But he continued on, his teeth sawing each other, his shoulders tensed to the breaking point and his body shivering in a cold sweat.

“Turn off! We’re not going to make it. We’ll go out through the hole where the X Tower used to be,” she said.

As if this rock could turn that fast.
He shook his head and sat back into the protective chair. He made a final, millimetric adjustment and cut the acceleration to zero.

“What the hell are you—”

The doors disappeared behind them and a thrill ran through Rork. Ahead lay the spaceport and above it the ephemeral force field between him and space. Mary Ellen’s face was a mix of fright and frustration. He giggled. They’d made it. He’d done it!

A screech deafened him. His seat pulled back and the straps tore into his shoulders. The screeching stopped, and with it their forward movement.

The ship rocked forward and backward, the great doors retracting and extending, attempting to meet, pushing, ripping and scraping.

“You’ve killed us, you drunk fool!”

He smiled at her. He switched to takeoff mode and edged the accelerator up. The ship hesitated and Rork pushed it higher. Metal screamed against metal above them.

“What’s that?” she yelled.

“Damned doors have brakes!” He gunned the upward acceleration. A boom sounded below them as the bottom door locked into place.

Flashing red lights took his control panel. “Engine failure imminent. Core pressure exceeds red line operating limits.”

Rork pushed the acceleration to the max. The force pushed him deeper into his seat and his back cracked. He switched to flight mode and the sled zipped out of the jaws’ stranglehold. He pulled the stick back and they rocketed into space just beyond the limits of the dome.

Mary Ellen glared at him and shook her head. “That was the most empty-headed thing I have ever seen.”

Rork laughed, his mouth wide open. “If there’s one thing this junk can do it’s take off with a million kilos of cargo on its back. Now, where—”

A yellow light flickered on the panel to his far left.

“It looks like we took hull damage. I need you to go back and look.”

“What if it sucks me out into space? Why don’t you look?”

“Someone has to look and I am currently... Oh brax.” There was the blip again.

The radio illuminated on his control panel. “ESS
John McCain
to commercial sled
Ironside
, we believe you are harboring fugitives. Keep your present course and dial down acceleration. Prepare to be boarded. Any sudden moves will be met with force.”

“Goddamned
John McCain
!” He slammed his fist into the arm of his chair.

“Take evasive action!” she yelled.

“I’m flying a rock! I told you that!”