Supremacy's Outlaw: A Space Opera Thriller Series (Insurgency Saga Book 3) T.E. Bakutis (read my book .txt) 📖

the chief activity of Truthers was abducting, torturing, and executing innocent Advanced civilians in hopes of starting another shooting war with the Supremacy, Jan could think of exactly zero ways in which Truthers weren’t all bad. Still, he could barely move, let alone talk, and he’d never been so foolish as to take a principled stand. Until he knew where he was, and how to escape, acting like he loved Truthers was best.

“You’re right,” Jan managed, after a hard swallow. “I’m glad someone is standing up for Ceto.”

“Yeah!” Rafe said. “That’s what they do, right? They stand up for the little guys. And gals!”

Jan swallowed a few more times, gauging the pain that came with each. That pain was receding. Kinsley had said the torture nanos wouldn’t do any permanent damage. What he was feeling now must be the aftereffects of screaming his lungs out for ... had it really only been ten minutes?

Jan’s last coherent memory was of Emiko tackling him and rubbing her knockout gloss on his lips. Despite his pain, he was here now, alive, and he had her to thank for thwarting his attempted suicide. The pain had been horrific, but now that he was still alive, Jan realized just how glad he was to be alive.

Just as when Elena Ryke had captured him, Emiko had saved him. So could he save her? If Truthers did have them, and they had any idea that Jan, Emiko, Kinsley, and Pollen had recently killed six of their number, they wouldn’t be in a very welcoming mood.

“Others?” Jan asked.

“Hmm?” Rafe was hedging.

“Where are the others?” Jan managed.

“Oh,” Rafe said. “They, uh ... they left.”

“Where did they go?”

“The Hole. Soon as they knew I’d saved you, they headed off to make sure Ryke didn’t come after us.”

So first Rafe had brought him to a nest of Truthers, and now Rafe was lying to him about Emiko and Kinsley. This was bad, but Jan had to make it appear as if nothing was wrong.

“Well,” Jan said, with a heavy sigh, “that’s good.”

Rafe perked up. “Yeah?”

“I’m glad they’re safe,” Jan said. “Thank you.”

“No problem, mate.” Rafe sounded almost disappointed Jan believed him. He went back to munching chicken surprise.

Having now acquired all the information he could reasonably acquire about his current fucked-up situation, Jan lapsed into silence. He could not know for certain that Senator Tarack’s nanos were finally disabled, but he did know he no longer hurt. He could not know for certain that Kinsley and Emiko weren’t here, captive, but he could still find out.

Most importantly, he did not know why Rafe was lying to him, but he was fairly confident that Rafe did not know Jan knew Rafe was lying to him. So Jan would keep things that way as long as possible. Rafe’s babble would certainly reveal more.

“More water?” Jan asked. Talking was getting easier.

“Sure,” Rafe said. “Just a little.”

After a half glass and a little more rest, Jan decided he was ready to get up out of this bed. His vision had firmed up in the interim, and he recognized his room now as a makeshift infirmary in what looked to be a recently built underground room. The walls and floor were plain biocrete, the ceiling covered in cheap plastic tiles. Someone had maintained it well.

Jan remembered the name his blurry nurse had mentioned. “The Commander” wanted to see him now that they had a genuine insurrection hero in their base. Which Jan was, apparently. He had absolutely no idea why he was a hero, but he’d roll with whatever got him out of here and back with his crew.

After all, with the torture nanos gone, Jan now had all the time in the world to find out the truth about Fatima’s betrayal, or whatever she and Kinsley believed had happened five years ago. Jan realized now, after preparing for death and not dying, after missing the crew he’d lost and getting them all back finally, that all he’d really wanted was an explanation. Not revenge. Just some sense of why he’d ended up in orbit.

An explanation wasn’t too much to ask, was it?

Jan sat up and waited for the room to cease spinning. He was feeling better by the moment. Rafe watched him, fidgeting.

Jan realized he still wore the same clothes Bharat had purchased for him more than three days ago now: cargo pants, a loose shirt, and a pocketed vest. They smelled undeniably funky. Smelly clothes were as good an excuse as any to start his escape.

“Is there anywhere I can get changed?” Jan asked. “These clothes have become most foul.”

“Right!” Rafe said. “Wouldn’t want to meet the Commander smelling like a pile of piss.”

“We most certainly would not.”

“Let’s see what we can rustle up.” Rafe stood, then winced in what was probably empathy. “You okay to walk?”

Jan slid his feet out of bed and let his legs dangle. He rose carefully, ready to catch himself on the bed if he wobbled. His legs were stiff, sore, and entirely capable of supporting him. Whatever drug cocktail that nurse had pumped into him was good stuff. He hoped he wouldn’t pay for it later.

“I can walk,” Jan announced.

“Great!” Rafe said. He didn’t walk.

Jan motioned curtly. “Shall we get new clothes?”

Rafe blinked. “We?”

“You don’t plan to present yourself to the commander of this base in stained pink pajama pants, do you?” Jan smiled. “That would be, as you say, disrespectful.”

“Oh, right.” Rafe walked off. “This way, I guess.”

Jan followed Rafe out a narrow doorway with no door. They emerged into a hall of more moldy biocrete. Dripping pipes ran its length, condensation making it obvious the Truthers had a whole