Rise the Renegade (Rork Sollix Book 1)

by George Donnelly

  He smirked. “You know it’s not proper.”

  She frowned and hugged her arms to her chest. “I know everything that’s going to happen.”

  “An algae farm seastead and ten kids next to a forest?”

  She grinned. “With you. Don’t forget that part!”

  “Can I get a few more details?”

  She waved his question away. “You’ll get your revenge on Barbary, for your father. I can see it.”

  “Details. I need details.”

  “I’m still looking for that bed.” She turned and put a hand to her temple. “I predict that we will find food in the mess.” She guffawed loudly, not unlike his obese drunk of an uncle. She walked to the door of the mess and opened it.

  He pushed himself away from the wall. He was overheated and his ankles ached.

  She stepped back from the mess door and clapped her hands together. She looked at him, her eyes wide and bright, like a child receiving the present she actually wanted. She yelped and kneeled down.

  He struggled to take another step forward. His head swam and his vision twisted. He needed to eat and take his meds. He took two more steps and stopped short. She stood in front of him, her slender pink-clad legs dancing forwards and backwards in place.

  “Look what I found!” Her right hand cupped a tiny beast. The animal sported a yellow duck-like bill with two airholes on top and set back near the skull. The eyes were perceptive and hinted at intelligence. This platyfet wasn’t more than a year old judging by its coarse brown fur.

  It emitted a shrill squeak. Lala shrieked, then open-mouth guffawed. “Isn’t it gorgeous? It plorked! Was it here before?”

  He shook his head. “Food?”

  The platyfet plorked again.

  “That’s two sandwiches we need.”

  “Alright, alright…” Lala stepped lightly into the undersized mess hall. Only one table remained. She sat the beast down on it and walked over to the dispensers.

  “Make it a ham sandwich.” Rork struggled to fix himself on the bench seat next to the animal. “Must I eat with this thing here?” He looked down at it. It looked up at him, its eyes wide, its bottom eyelids taut. It plorked once more.

  “Empty!” She hit something. It sounded hollow.

  He lay his head down on the table. The furry thing trundled over to him, its shiny black claws clacking on the pristine table surface. It nuzzled its bill against his tricep.

  Lala walked over and sat down across from him. She plopped two drink bags on the table. “That’s all there is.”

  Rork’s stomach rumbled. “I’ll split him with you.” He grinned.

  The platyfet geeped.

  Lala rolled her eyes. “There’s to be no more talk of death, anyone’s death, especially not Faxmir’s. We’re going to make it out of here, as a family. Are we in agreement on this point?” She arched an eyebrow.

  Rork laughed. “Faxmir? You can’t name him that! It’s cruel — and unusual!”

  3

  “IF ONLY we could reach it.” Lala stood at the far left of the galley window and looked up and into the gloom of space.

  “What?” Rork picked his head up from the table, the bug-infested beast perched unsteadily on his shoulder. “Since when is there a window there?” The urge to run hit him, but to where? How?

  Faxmir geeped and resettled itself in the crook of Rork’s neck. Its body vibrated. The moving fibers of its coat tickled his neck. He shuddered and gently relocated it to the table, where it geeped up at him.

  “I just hit a button and it popped up. The trainship is up there. There must be a line that passes near us. We’re not as remote as you thought.” She turned and stuck the tip of her tongue out at him.

  He laughed. “This is not like Earth. There’s no horizon, really. So just because you see it doesn’t mean it’s close by.”

  “Yet somehow, the superior space pirate finds himself in need of a green Earth-girl to take care of him. Oh, the irony.” She giggled.

  Rork frowned. The platyfet geeped at him and he pushed it away.

  Lala strode over to them and bundled the animal into her arms. “There, there. Pay no attention to him. He’s just not cut out for fatherhood, that’s all.”

  Rork felt hollow inside and drained but that couldn’t pass. “I would make a great father!”

  She turned her face up at him and walked away. “You have good genes, Rork, so you’d be a good biological father. But a real father?” She laughed. “You can’t even bond with this cute little guy.”

  “It’s a dirty beast and a carrier of disease. Not a human child!”

  “And monogamy? Do you even know what the word commitment means?”

  “Wait, let me look it up.” He pretended to look it up on the wrist computer he left behind on the MORF-9. He frowned.

  “Because I’ll be gone otherwise, bound servant or not.”

  He sighed and rolled his eyes.

  “Let’s see, what shall we name you, cutie pie?” she said to herself.

  He stood up and walked over to her. “There has to be more food around here. Did you find anything?”

  “What was the name of my last boyfriend again?” She held a finger to her temple.

  Rork stopped short. “You’ve never had—”

  “Buff! Right!” She turned around to Rork. “His name is Buff. It’s final.”

  “Who’s this Buff?” he asked of the universe.

  The station rumbled underneath them.

  “Earthquake?” She gripped the table and Buff tensed.

  Rork ran out of the galley, turned right and felt himself thrown against the corridor wall to his left. A light panel above him popped out of the wall and crashed to the floor with a sound like distant thunder.

  “Where are you going?”

  “Bring your new boyfriend, let’s go!” He picked himself up, ran and found the door. He hit the gray button next to it and it opened.

  The bridge was claustrophobic. There were only three seats: one high white chair at the back and two black chairs lower down in front of a wide black control console.

  Rork threw himself into a seat at the front on the right. He hit the button to open the forward viewscreen. A wide picture window blinked into existence ahead of him. The scene was empty. A few distant stars glinted in the darkness of space.

  The station rumbled again and a red bar flashed at the top of his panel.

  Lala burst into the room behind him. “Buff is really scared!”

  “Buff can go jump into a black hole.” He tapped the red bar.

  “Hull breach in compartment nine,” a deep male voice said.

  “Now that is a manly voice!” She took a seat in the captain’s chair behind him, Buff cowering in her lap.

  Another rumble, then an explosion. He rocked back and forth in his chair and grabbed the console to steady himself. He tapped feverishly and a heavy click sounded at the door.

  “What was that!”

  “I think—” he started.

  A shrill male voice screeched from the radio. “What was it you called me, Rork? An underfed boob who couldn’t find my brain with three scanners? Was that it?”

  “Who is that?” Lala whispered.

  He sighed. “Barbary — junior.”

  “His son?”

  He nodded. “Look around for some way off this thing.” He pressed the button to transmit.

  “What do you mean?”

  Rork turned around, his eyes wide. “Get up now and find some way off this thing because he’s going to blow it up!”

  “What a brilliant idea!” said Barbary, Jr.

  Rork took his finger off the transmit button and groaned. “Hurry up!”

  Lala stood up, Buff in her arms. She walked to her left, then to her right. “But I don’t—”

  Rork stood up and walked back at her. He wrapped his arms around her. He felt her tremble. Buff crawled up his shirt and perched on his shoulder. The furry varmint nuzzled his cold bill against Rork’s stubbl
e and sneezed with a quiet whoosh.

  “Look,” Rork whispered. “I just want you to look. I’m dead anyway, but—”

  “Don’t say that!” She punched him lightly on the shoulder, then rubbed Buff’s head.

  The beast purred.

  She smiled, her eyes bright and wide. “I didn’t know they could do that! Hey, why can’t we just fly this thing out of here?”

  Rork firmed his jaw. “No fuel, remember? Just see if you can find something, anything.” He walked over to the viewscreen and massaged his greasy stubble. He’d think of something. He always did, especially when it involved a Barbary.

  “Look Barbary—” He groaned and smacked the transmit button on the control panel. “Barbary, I surrender. Take me aboard and—”

  “No, no, I liked your first idea better.”

  Rork fell into his seat. He cut the transmission and whipped around. “Don’t open the door!”

  She stood next to the door, her hand poised over the open button, her eyes questioning but afraid to ask why.

  “It’s vacuum on the other side. I think. I’m not sure.” He swiveled around to face the viewscreen again. He hit the transmit button. “He wouldn’t like you killing me. He wants reparations, doesn’t he? He’ll set an example with me. A very public one. I promise to cry a lot and beg for mercy. It will be really good for you guys. Honest!”

  “You’re right,” Barbary, Jr. replied, “but Barbary and Sons is safer with you dead, right now, right here. And so is the Cartel.”

  “There are two other people, including an unrelated child,” Rork said. “Does Barbary kill children? Wouldn’t be good for business.” Behind him, he heard the sounds of Lala panicking.

  “No one would ever find out. Any last words?”

  She came up behind him. “This is not how it happens!”

  Rork cut the transmission. He twisted his head to look back at her. “Tell me what to do!” he whispered through gritted teeth.

  “I... I can’t see it.”

  He cleared his throat and hit the transmit button. Barbary’s vessel, a commerce class Ferrari zipship, came into view ahead. The bluish-tinted craft was thin up front and wider in back, with a hull that started at a sharp point in the center and curved back towards dual, square fusion engines. A burst of flame appeared from the underside and headed directly at the center of the viewscreen.

  Rork swallowed. “I’ve always wanted a Ferrari. I know where your sister is, by the way.”

  “No, you don’t. Goodbye.” The connection severed with a hiss.

  Rork heard a gentle whoosh behind him. He turned.

  Lala stood against the far wall, behind the captain’s chair, a nervous half-smile on her face and Buff clinging to her neck. “I found something.”

  Rork jumped out of his chair and bounded up the steps. Three one-piece space suits sat in the cabinet, neatly folded under their respective helmets. He glanced back. He saw the bare outlines of it now. The missile was black — the perfect camouflage for space. It would pierce the hull and explode in their faces. He saw another flame arch away from the hostile ship.

  “Get dressed!” he yelled.

  “Baby.”

  Rork scrunched his nose at her.

  She flashed him an angry frown.

  “Get dressed, baby!” He rolled his eyes.

  “But then what?” She searched his face, her eyes dark.

  He pulled a suit out and pushed it at her. He pulled another one out and stepped into its legs, one by one. He started to zip it up diagonally across his chest.

  Lala pulled Buff off her neck. The little imp stretched its arms towards her and she tossed it down the neck of Rork’s suit just as he finished zipping.

  “Hey!” He jerked his torso forward. “It’s climbing up my back!” He pulled a fishbowl-style helmet out of the closet, popped it on his head and clicked it onto the suit neck.

  The first missile flew past the viewscreen to the left. The station rumbled again and Rork’s ears ached.

  He walked back down to the control console. “It’s not too late to fix this, Barbary!”

  Lala pulled the suit over her shoulders. Rork ran back, zipped it up and jammed the helmet onto her.

  “Oh, it definitely is,” Barbary, Jr. replied. “Goodbye, Rork Sollix.”

  The second missile burned past the viewscreen and hit the next room over. The sound of the explosion didn’t reach Rork’s ears. The wall in front of him vaporized. He grabbed for Lala and missed.

  Rork floated in space, the Barbary ship growing larger in front of him. Lala was nowhere to be found.

  4

  “CAN YOU hear me?” Lala’s voice came to Rork through his suit radio. Buff dug his claws into Rork’s shoulder and geeped.

  Rork tumbled away from the mining station sideways. He craned his neck to see the remains of the station. A cloud of gas and debris followed him but past it he glimpsed a white platter on an oddly shaped rock. The universe rolled away and Barbary’s blue zipship was upside down above his head. His stomach lurched and he closed his eyes.

  “Rork, where are you!”

  The panic in her voice broke him. He was the one with terminal anorxoma. Not her. She had to survive. She was too beautiful not to. He recalled her face to memory. The delicate curve of blue hair, her soft face and those sharp eyes that demanded respect. She hid the vulnerability behind them. But he saw it. She had to make it.

  “What do you see?” He craned his neck in every direction. “Do you see me?”

  “It’s just, uh, no! Everything is spinning!”

  “Check your left wrist. How much air do you have?”

  “I can’t...” She trailed off and the radio crackled. “...not there... Which—”

  “Lala! Lala!” he yelled into the darkness.

  “Well, it seems one little rat isn’t dead yet,” Barbary, Jr. said.

  Who designs a suit that broadcasts unencrypted by default? “I’ll find you. Just hold on.” Rork located the enemy ship in his field of vision. He brought his left wrist up and searched the rectangular control panel for booster controls. Air temperature, oxygen concentration, helmet dimmer, floodlight. Everything but boosters.

  “Ooh, she sounds cute. Maybe I’ll find her. I could always use another consort, maybe even a seventh wife, since the last one got away. Just how hot is she?”

  Rork wanted to lash out but he had to stop this damned spinning. He stretched out his arms and legs and twisted his torso. He slowed a little, but not enough. He spotted another flame exiting Barbary’s ship. It zipped past him at just a couple tens of meters. He was close.

  “Damnit, don’t we have smaller arms on this thing? How fast is he going? Can we just ram him?” Barbary, Jr. growled over the radio.

  The missile impacted the asteroid face below the station. A few chips floated off.

  Rork knew what to do now. He patted his waist. There it was! All technical types carried toolboxes. He pulled the smallest screwdriver from the box on his hip and examined it. It was a tiny blade, shorter than his pinky finger with a tip narrower than Buff’s claws.

  Rork jammed the tool into his leading shoulder. A burst of air puffed out and his lateral motion slowed. He felt a twinge and a few drops of crimson blood bounced around in front of him. He found a small clamp and jammed it over the hole.

  Buff dug his claws deeper into the other shoulder.

  “Sorry, guy. Hold on tight.”

  Barbary’s ship loomed massive to his right now. Its pointed bow arced towards him. Rork was still moving, how fast he couldn’t tell, but now his head-over-feet roll was slower.

  “It’s so cold,” Lala whispered.

  “Hold on,” Rork tightened and struggled for breath. But he focused on the approaching ship. He readied the screwdriver. The ship filled his visual field now. It was a hundred meters away, its sharp prow aimed directly at Rork’s head.

  He jammed the screwdriver into the side of his left thigh and air burst out into the vacuum. He partiall
y obstructed the gas’ exit with his hand and his legs swung up. The surprisingly pointy prow passed to his left and he grabbed at the smooth hull as it sailed beneath him.

  “Rork, where are you?” Her voice was weak and far away now.

  Rork grabbed his thigh with his left hand to staunch the flow of oxygen. His right found a grip on Barbary’s hull but the velocity differential was too great and he lost his grip.

  He was moving more quickly now relative to the ship. He found a long horizontal bar. He grabbed it with both hands. This time he stuck, despite the ache in his shoulders and ribs. His lower back stretched and cracked from the sudden acceleration. He frowned in approval.

  “Don’t worry, Buff, we’re going to make it.” He leaned his neck to one side and rubbed against the little beast.

  “Where’d you get to? We were just coming to pick you up.” Barbary, Jr.’s voice scraped at Rork’s eardrums.

  Ahead of Rork, a long window ran the width of the ship. He couldn’t advance. They would see him. Without letting go of the ship, he looked back. There was a round hatch behind him. He let go and floated slowly back to the airlock. He caught the tips of his fingers on the shallow edge where the hatch door met the hull.

  “Rooorrk? I have your girl. I love her already. Mmm, soft and silky. Love the blue! But I’m thinking a nice crimson would work better. I can’t wait to sample the goods. I owe you, man.” Barbary, Jr. let out a satisfied sigh. “Well, you’re either dead or you’ll be out of oxygen soon. Nowhere to go, really, is there? So Lala and I are zolting out of here. I know you wish us the best.” He cackled.

  “Touch her and I’ll kill you.” Or is he bluffing? I really should keep my mouth shut.

  Rork pulled on the manual airlock release. It wouldn’t budge. If he didn’t get inside now, his arms would rip out of their sockets when the ship accelerated.

  He forced his lower body down, his abdominal muscles straining. He secured his left foot on a small ridge and pulled again, with both hands, on the lever. It scraped against the hatch. He tried to draw breath and it didn’t come.

  “So you are still with us, after all. Well, not much longer.”