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

everything he was doing and stared Rork in the eye. He examined Rork’s face as if looking for evidence of deception.
    “Just not all at once, okay? I have to earn a living.”
    “Will you do it or not?”
    “Yes!” Rork yelled.
    The hood fell over his head. It stank of concentrated urine and the collected body sweat of thousands of dead, fear-sweated men.
    “Do it,” a strong male voice said.
    Rork felt himself pulled backwards. The rough noose tightened on the front of his neck and he gasped for breath. One foot dangled into the abyss. The other he lodged awkwardly on the platform. He tried to push himself back up with it but his strength faded and panic electrified his spine. It hurt. It really hurt. His blood thumped in his eardrums. All outside sound disappeared.
    Thick arms grabbed Rork and lifted him up. Rork’s leg lost connection with the platform and he scrambled to regain his last defense against death. Rork received a devastating blow to the gut and curled up to protect himself. He tried to draw breath but nothing came. He waited for the fall that would signal the end, his end.
    An apparition of Lala came to him. He was a failure. He didn’t keep his promise. His raged at himself, his self-hate glowing red in him as he fell.
    But he stopped falling and started to move sideways. The noose was still there. His hands were still bound. But he was bouncing on someone’s shoulder now, the skin on his belly ripping and burning where the children cut him. He steadied his breath and listened, the jingling of the chains providing a pleasant melody.
    They flew down steps, Rork’s gut and aching ribs bouncing against the heavy shoulder, the sound of many footsteps behind them, muffled yells and the cracks of pulse pistols. He rubbed his hands together, hoping to free them. He shook his head from side to side. The hood loosened, he was briefly upside down and his feet found solid ground once more. His hands found freedom. He removed the hood and drunk deep of the less odorous air.
    “Are you a man of your word?” Zero put his face close to Rork’s in the darkness.
    The guard who put the hood on him organized the children into lines behind Zero.
    Rork raised an eyebrow and inclined his head towards the guard. “Can he be trusted?”
    “The question is whether we can trust you. Will you keep your word, pirate? We have already taken a great risk for you. Now your vow you shall repeat, so that the agreement is clear.”
    Boots stomped nearby. Rectangles of light squeezed in through the door to Rork’s right. The children finished lining up.
    Zero smacked him across the face.
    “What!” Rork searched for a way out. The space was tiny. He spied no other exit.
    “You promised to take the children out of here and to carry me from port to port so that I might preach the word of the Universe. In return, Faraj and I will get you safely to your ship.” Zero offered him his right hand.
    Rork took the guru’s hand and shook it. My ship. We’ll just have to interpret that term rather loosely, won’t we? He suppressed a grin. “Now, how are we getting out of here?”
    Zero relaxed his shoulders and looked at Faraj. He opened his mouth.
    “Wait. Where are Devi and Anju?” Rork counted the children. Two rows, eight per column. Most were clad in upside down nylon bags. Others wore only underwear. He spotted one with a pair of sandals made from recycled rubber tires. But not one was over the age of ten.
    “Those old enough to work in the colonies, they culled those children the morning after your foolish escape attempt.”
    “Don’t lay that on me!” Rork pursed his lips. He owed those two kids and he didn’t like being in debt.
    Footsteps sounded outside and the door whipped open, smacking Rork in the nose. He recoiled and closed his eyes.
    Jelara faced him in the tiny closet, a pulse pistol aimed at his forehead. The fat man smiled. He glanced at Zero.
    The children gathered around Zero. Faraj found a spot next to