Free Rise the Renegade (Rork Sollix Book 1) by George Donnelly

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
    “H OOD THE prisoner.”
    One of the guards approached