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

throat. “Band and Rolata Sollix singlehandedly cured malnutrition in the Outer Realm settlements. Miners began to turn a profit. They put their money together into cooperatives and started their own, independent mining operations.”
    “Cartel don’t like competition!” said a prisoner in the next cell. “Cartels want to keep the good man down!” His face radiated endurance, and suffering.
    His cellmates patted him on the back and mumbled their agreement.
    Rork nodded at him.
    Devi cleared his throat again, this time more loudly. The crowd quieted.
    “The Cartel chose Old Man Barbary,” the boy continued. “He won the bid to stop the Indie Shift. He and his sons tracked down Band and Rolata. And their two children.” Devi looked at Rork and raised an eyebrow.
    Rork straightened up and swallowed hard. “They said they wanted to do business. Dad was willing to do business with anyone, Cartel, government or Indie. Rich, poor, sick, hungry.” A tightness rose in Rork’s throat and he blinked his eyes.
    “Tell it, man,” said the prisoner.
    Anju extended a hand to him.
    “They lasered him. They threw my mother out the airlock. I watched her float past the cupola, her body icy and bloated, bits of her floating alongside.”
    The crowd of prisoners erupted in hushed chatter. “He killed your parents, man,” said the prisoner.
    “Then Barbary fired on our home. I couldn’t find my brother. I jumped in an escape pod.”
    “You abandoned your brother? He’s your brother, man,” said the prisoner.
    Anju turned to the prisoner. “He thought they were all dead! He saw them die! And he’s no coward. We all know what he’s done to the Cartel since then!”
    The certainty of a debt of revenge coursed through Rork’s body, filling him with an electric fury. He had to be well. Now. He would find the strength. He was getting out of here. Barbary had to die. He had to save Lala.

9
    “W IDER ! S PREAD them wider!”
    Rork spread his arms and inched his legs farther apart. The chill air of the subterranean prison block swirled around him and a tremor ran from his gut to his taut neck muscles.
    The gray-suited guard struck him across the back of his head. “I said to spread your legs wider, 93478921!”
    Rork turned to glare at the guard but the goon struck the back of his knee. The pain was immediate. He spread his legs. “Happy now?”
    The guard’s latex-covered fingers crammed in where he never expected anyone to touch him. He recoiled and clenched his guts.
    “Finished. Move along, 93478921.” The guard waved him away.
    “My name is Rork Sollix.” He turned to face him.
    “You are holding up my line, prisoner 93478921.” The guard looked up at him. His puffy eyes just didn’t care. He had a job to do and a club to do it with. None of the rest mattered.
    Another, shorter, guard grabbed Rork’s arm and pulled him along towards a heavy, metal door. Dark stains ran in odd patterns on the door. Bolt heads decorated its edges. A barred window let the gloom in. Not much more than half Rork’s height, the short guard stopped him. He pulled on Rork’s arms until the new prisoner faced opposite the wall where he was last abused.
    A long wall of vertical metal bars greeted him. Behind it was the women. His eyes searched the smaller group and found Anju. She held onto the bars, her pert breasts exposed. She looked up at nothing in particular. Her eyes were red and her body trembled.
    The small guard grabbed the top of Rork’s ear and jerked him forward.
    “They already gave me the anal probe, little man,” Rork said, lunging forward.
    “Just relax,” Devi said from behind him. “It will go easier for you.”
    “Shut up!” the petite guard screamed at them both. He took a thin, white half-circle from a box next to Rork’s feet. He pried apart the prong-like ends and pushed them against Rork’s larynx. The device snapped around his neck and constricted.
    Rork grabbed at his neck. It was too tight. He tried