Rise the Renegade (Rork Sollix Book 1) (28 page)

“Who’s left?” Rork asked.

“You, me, Mary Ellen.”

“My dad?”

Zero shrugged.

“Can you run?” Rork flexed his legs. His right knee screamed, and he cringed.

Zero nodded.

“Weapons?” Rork arched his head up and looked around. It was dark and dusty. Bits of metal, glass and plastic covered the deck and dug into the walls.

“Nothing.”

“I—” Rork started.

“Be proud. Even if we make it no further, you have already—”

“Flark that! Now, I’m going to run out ahead and distract the sentries. You two run out that door you behind me. Use the
Matata
for cover if you have to. Got it? Is she ready? Mary Ellen!”

“What!”

“Are you ready to run back to the door?” Rork pointed past her.

“I’m ready to be done with you!”

“Help me, Jupiter!”

“Yes, okay? Yes,” she said.

“On three.” Rork squatted at the edge of the cover, wondering if his knee would respond. “One, two, three!”

Rork darted out toward the sentries. His knee was slow, but it was enough, even though there was no cover. There were at least a dozen ships left, far away at the other end of the bay. He spied flashes outside. The other side of the bay was open now. He ran straight, then turned and pivoted on his bad knee. It gave way and he fell, his brother’s blood smearing off of his clothes and onto the floor.

Laser pulses exploded around him. His bad leg burned. Rork got up again and limp-ran back, slipping in the blood. More pulses crashed to the deck near him. Sparks flying, he swerved. He passed the remains of the fighter. It was a miracle they’d survived such a scrap heap.

A pulse nicked Rork’s forearm and the pain shot through him. The
Matata
sat, smoking, ten meters ahead, apparently intact. Rork threw himself under its flat, pointed prow.

Pulses rained down around the edge of the meager cover. Warm air swam over Rork and his skin goosebumped. He grabbed a piece of debris the size of his forearm and forced his breath to slow.

The door was not more than five meters ahead. Zero poked his head out.

“Come on!”

Rork took one last breath, tossed the debris left and limp-sprinted towards the door. He threw himself the last three meters, landing on his stomach against the cold deck. He looked up at Zero and smiled.

“Help me, Rork!” The voice came from the landing bay.

“What’s that?” Rork asked Zero. He picked himself up and walked towards the door. A laser pulse landed millimeters from his toes and he stepped back.

The Speaker faced him from behind the long side of her wrecked ship, mere meters from where he’d rested. She reached a hand towards him. A laser pulse landed just ahead of her fingers and she pulled them back like a bolt.

Rork shook his head at her.
Stupid woman. Since when did the EG get so careless with its leaders?
He didn’t like her. She was a fake.

But she was also a beautiful woman. And she might come in handy.

“Please!”

“Rork! We must go!” Zero said from behind him.

Rork motioned for the Speaker to follow them. She shifted her weight to get up then shifted back. She started to sob.

Rork sighed. He looked back at Zero. “Hold on.”

“No!” Mary Ellen yelled.

Rork sprinted out of the doorway, laser pulses sparking around him. He grabbed the Speaker’s hand, her face a study in gratitude, and pulled her back with him to safety.

“Oh my Rork, you saved me!” The Speaker ran her hands over his chest and laid her cheek against him. “Thank you.”

Rork pulled her off of him. She smelled of vanilla, cinnamon and something else that made certain parts of him move under their own steam. But he set that aside. He grabbed one of her thin shoulders in each of his meaty hands and shook her. “Keep up! I’m not doing that again.”

“Are we ready yet?” Mary Ellen asked. “Or is there another helpless princess out there you need to save?” She limped deeper into the Cylinder, Zero at her side.

The Speaker swooned and fell into line behind Rork.

Rork caught up to Mary Ellen. “Which way are we going?” He looked down the wide exit corridor. It stopped five meters up and made a sharp left turn. “How close is she to here?”

Mary Ellen stopped and looked back at him. “You really have no clue. Just follow me.”

Rork grabbed her arm. “No. Everything you know, I need to know. You know the layout. I know the tactics. We’re going to be communicating a lot. Give me a sense of the general layout.”

The Speaker came up next to Rork, her arm around his back, her side and breast pushed up against his arm. “This is Rork Sollix, the renegade! You need to—”

Rork pushed her away, shaking his head. “Don’t do that. Just be quiet and maybe you’ll make it out alive.”

The Speaker shifted her hips and looked Rork up and down, her eyes dancing between hurt pride and smoldering desire.

Rork turned back to Mary Ellen. “I apologize. Now, please?”

Mary Ellen limped over to within millimeters of Rork. She grabbed his eyes with hers. “I am helping you because you have something to offer me.”

“Protection.”

She nodded. “Are we clear on that?”

Rork nodded. “I’ve got your back. I won’t forget this.”

She poked a small finger into his chest. “You had better not! Now, come on.”

They reached the left turn. Rork leaned against the wall and poked his head out just enough to glance around the corner. There was a tall, oval bulkhead door at the end of the narrowing corridor. Nothing else.

The wall behind Rork’s shoulder flickered, then illuminated. Rork jumped back. Barbary’s face appeared.

“I’m impressed,” Barbary said, “but your induction was to take place elsewhere.”

Rork looked up and down the corridors. There was no sign of an attack force.

“Are you sure this is the right place?” Barbary threw his head back and his gold teeth jumped up and down. His eyes and mouth narrowed and he leaned in. “You had your chance. Lala is dead. And so are you and your companions.”

“What about me?” the Speaker asked.

“You and I will negotiate, my dear.” A leering smirk erupted on his face. “Oh and I’m looking forward to visiting with you, too, Mary Ellen.” The screen went dark.

Rork stared at the screen, his eyes glazing over.
What if this really was the wrong cylinder? What if he had another one? What if she really is dead?

Mary Ellen stood in front of him pounding his chest. “Answer me! You have to protect me!”

Rork grabbed her thin wrists and steadied them. “The faster—”

“No! I won’t! Just— I have to get out!” She moved back towards the landing bay.

Rork jerked her towards him. He wrapped an arm around her waist and hugged her to him. She tensed, then collapsed against him and sobbed.

“I’m going to protect you.” Rork wanted to protect them all, and more to boot. His chest sparked with determination but in the back of his mind a voice reminded him that he would likely die here today. He imagined them turning and leaving, squealing like pigs running from slaughter.

That was someone else. It wasn’t Rork. Not this Rork, maybe an alternate-universe version of himself. Because the universe would not be the universe unless Rork did everything he could to save Lala and get his revenge on Barbary.

Zero opened the tall oval door. Warm, moist air floated down the hall towards them. A sweet, organic scent reached Rork’s nose.

“What is that?” he asked Mary Ellen.

She smiled through the tears. “Come on, I’ll show you.”

The three of them limped and ran to the door the best they could. Rork opened it slightly to look straight ahead. What he saw confused him. He stepped a foot through and looked to the right, his eyes wide.
Wow!

 
Straight ahead, for kilometers, an inviting green forest ran ahead of them. Just above the forest and on both sides of the Cylinder, transparent panels extended for its considerable length. Europa's cracked surface peeked through on one side and on the other Jupiter’s swirling eye came into view.

Rork looked up. Above a cloudy haze, simple two-story brick homes hung upside down. Flowing multi-colored gardens and burbling streams ran among the randomly placed homes. A narrow, black street curved a path through it all.

Farther on, a steel and glass office tower connected the homes with the forest. The top of the tower was circular, as if someone had placed the brim of an old sheriff’s hat on it.

An abandoned gloom washed over the whole thing, like a dance hall after the party had ended. Space itself had an open invitation into the Cylinder courtesy of carbon-scored holes blasted through it by the EDF.
 

It twisted Rork’s gut and he wanted out of there.
 

“Incredible,” Zero muttered.

The Speaker wrapped her hands around Rork’s bicep and purred. “It’s so quaint!”

Rork shook her off and looked at Mary Ellen. “What I want to know is how we’re going to find Lala in all of this!”

“I’
M
PRETTY
sure it’s this one.”

“Based on what?” Rork asked.

“On the sound of her voice and what she said. And... my own experience,” Mary Ellen said.

He looked up. There was the forest above him now, the canopy an engaging light green from here. It was a new color for him and his eyes lingered on it. It made him feel lighter. His mind felt fresher. And there was the door to the landing bay next to it. He recalled the small fleet of ships and hoped at least one of them was operational.

She smacked him in the chest. “Hey, come on. I don’t want to be here any longer than I have to.”

He walked up the rocky path to the front door of the two-story, red-brick home. Neglected bushes grew along the path, their branches and leaves sprouting without human guidance. He pushed on the red door and it swung open.

She pushed past him. “They must have evacuated. Maybe he built another Cylinder. My mother lived here.”

“This is your house? I thought you were in a rush? We don’t have time for your trip down memory lane.”

“They trusted my mother to care for new girls.” She ran in and turned right, out of Rork’s view. “Come on, up here!”

Rork turned the corner, stopped and looked back. “You two keep watch here.”

Zero and the Speaker nodded.

He flew up a flight of stairs. Mary Ellen screamed. He turned right at the top. She blocked his path.

“Don’t come in here!”

Rork pushed past her. There on the rough, bare floor lay Lala’s body, clad in a see-through blue mesh dress, her legs spread open and her wrists cut cross-wise. Blood still trickled out of them.

“She’s not dead.” He turned to Mary Ellen, his eyes wild. “She’s not dead!”

He kneeled down next to her. He pulled his shirt off and ripped two long slices of cloth from the torso. He wrapped each tightly around a wrist and tied it in a knot.

“We’ve got to go,” Mary Ellen said. “Something is not right here.” She walked to the window and looked up and down the street.

He got his hand under Lala’s neck. Her head flopped back and he rushed to support it. He touched her neck. A light thumping disturbed his fingers. “She’s still alive!”

She was gaunt, her collarbone protruding under her too-pale skin. Her hair was grown out, a centimeter of black and then her quirky blue, though duller and dirtier now. Her face was grimy. A hurt rage ran through him soon assaulted by a tender sympathy.

He’d nurse her back to health. That was the most important thing. He kicked himself for ever taking her to Earth, for leaving her alone. He balled his right fist, brought it to his mouth and bit into his index finger.
Idiot!
His thoughts turned to Barbary and his blood boiled.

“Rork!” The panic in Mary Ellen’s voice was palpable.

Something dark burst from the corner of the room. It leapt up on his shoulder and nuzzled his neck.

“Buff!” Rork caressed the little beast. It was thin, its bones visible under its coat. Its bright yellow beak seemed duller now.

Buff dug his claws into Rork’s shoulder and Rork flinched.

“I know, buddy. I’m sorry.” He picked Lala up and carried her across his arms, as he might a baby. He took her out of the room and gently down the steps, one foot then the next so as to not jar her or cause his knees to fail.

Mary Ellen pushed past him, knocking into Lala’s legs and sending him falling sideways. He caught, and righted, himself. Mary Ellen blocked his path.

“Your father and a bunch of men are out there. They have weapons.”

He nodded. “Good.” He took a step forward.

Mary Ellen blocked him. “They’ll kill you.”

“Take this guy. His name is Buff.” He pulled the platyfet off his shoulder at quite a cost to his skin and pushed past her. At the bottom of the steps, he laid Lala on the soft and fluffy floor, out of the way.

Mary Ellen bounded down after him. “We don’t even have weapons.”

“This is beyond weapons.” He strode to the front door, opened it and stepped out.

In the middle of the narrow street, a dozen men stood, pulse pistols drawn and aimed at Rork. Rork’s father stood in front of them, his weapon holstered.

“It’s time, son. You’ve got nowhere to go, no weapons. You’re covered in your brother’s blood and brains, not that he had much of the latter. Let’s go see the big man.”

He stepped forward to within a meter of his father. “Are you happy, Dad? Is this what you wanted to do with your life? Don’t you feel anything for Jord?”

“Barbary pays well. He’s brought structure to my life. The system is a dark place. You don’t want to be out there on your own anymore. Look what’s happened. Look what a mess you’ve made of your life. Look what you did to your brother.”

“He broke you!” Rork screamed.

The armed men approached but the old man turned and waved them back. “He’s unarmed.”

Rork rushed him. He careened into his father’s chest, the same one he had once cried on, that had comforted him, that lifted him and hugged him. He brought a fist up and punched his dad square in the nose.

The old man’s head hit the ground with a slushy thud that turned Rork’s stomach. Rork pulled the pulse pistol from the old man’s belt, rolled right and into a squat. He fired.