The Portal (Novella) (2 page)

“You!” A quick memory flashed through Janni’s mind of her first meeting with this warlord, roughly nine standard months past. Both their ships had berthed for refuelling on a decrepit space station orbiting the fiery planet, Zirsk. Janni had set a direct course to the bar where she had nursed a shot of Niska juice while assessing the patrons. The patroller had caught her with her hand clasped tightly over a pouch of credits she had lifted from a drunken reveller. Annoyed and more than a little anxious, she had glared into his grim face and watched as a strange, yellow light flared to life within his dark eyes and a smile curved the corners of his mouth.

Even stranger still, he had stood aside and let her go.

“My little thief. I thought I recognised the signature of your ship and have been following you for several systems. This time, I am afraid you will not escape so easily.” He caught her hasty glance over his shoulder. “Do not look for rescue. Even as I speak, my ship is in pursuit of your rust heap.”

“Why?” she managed through shaking lips.

The hard line of his mouth softened and Janni watched it curl into a wry twist. “You stole something from me,” he muttered.

Janni stiffened. “Rubbish.”
As if, she’d be that stupid
.

The soldier slapped a hand against the wall behind her and leaned in close. So close she saw the amber glow of his eyes spreading until only a thin black rim circled his irises. His lips a mere breathe from hers, he murmured, “Do you have no memories of the market place on the garrison planet, Olman, little thief?”

Her stomach clenched and she snatched her gaze from his dark face and fixed on the broad expanse of his chest. Memories? More than memories, for each moment they had spent together had seared into her brain. In truth, she had despaired she would never be done with the cauldron of need and hope that tormented her every moment of every day.

Olman Garrison, Basa System: Six Standard Months Earlier

They had shuttled down from
The Orion
, to the planet’s surface several rones ago. After inspecting the crates of spare parts a dealer-grunt had delivered a rone or so earlier, the crew now stood gathered outside the cargo door.

“That’s it.” Janni wiped engine fluid from her hands with a rag before tossing it aside. “We need a new isolator switch and a nuron crank shaft or the next time we go for a jump, we’re gonna be toast.”

Bansell waggled his furry eyebrows.

Janni rolled her eyes. “Think, a hot and fiery death.”

“Aaah.” Bansell fixed the dealer-grunt with his unblinking stare and growled, “How much?”

“Not easy to find. Need two hundred creds and much time.”

Bansell waved him off. “Bah. Where are we going to get two hundred creds? Get out of here.”

Janni watched the dealer-grunt scuttle off on his four legs, rubbing the back of her tight neck with a grimy hand and then braced herself. She knew what was coming next.

“We spread out, do some hustling. Deek, you stay here and see our stores are loaded. We meet back here in five rones,” said Bansell. He glanced at Janni and she nodded, somehow managing to keep her expression from revealing her distaste.

If only there was another way to find the creds they needed.
I guess I should count myself lucky, Bansell doesn’t suggest I add whoring to my skillset
. And if he ever dared suggest it, she’d jump ship the first opportunity she got and take her chances on her lonesome. After she knocked him to the ground, that is.

They moved out, separating, melding easily with the other travellers and war-weary soldiers ambling down the narrow, rock-paved streets, all heading for the central square where the market-stallers held sway.

Where anything could be bought—for a price.

Janni mingled within the flow. Keeping inconspicuous with her head lowered and shoulders hunched beneath her worn cloak, she trudged along, every now and then scanning the crowd looking for a suitable mark. No prosperous merchants with bloated bodies and shiny metallic buttons here. Her spirits sank until she felt as well-worn as her ancient, scuffed boots. They would have to do without the new parts, for there was no way she was thieving creds off these poor souls, with their gaunt, pinched faces and patched clothing, some more threadbare than hers.

These people were the epitome of refugees of a war that had lasted far too long. The theft of whatever creds they possessed might well mean utter devastation to their pitiful lives. She eyed a bone-thin Jurian shuffling alongside two blank-faced grunt soldiers.
I can’t do it. There must be another way
.

About to retrace her steps to the runway, she caught sight of non-reflective black armour within the crowd, passing near where she loitered against a crumbling timber wall.

Patrollers.

She’d recognise that uniform anywhere.

Janni stood on tiptoe then quickly ducked down. More than one, it looked like an entire squad was on the prowl. They could be searching for runners. They could also be searching for salvagers. Had they caught sight of her ship? Were they hunting her and the others?

“Step up, step up little female and for the price of ten creds experience
Pampering for the Soul,”
said the market-seller bobbing about in an open doorway to her right.

When she stared at him, he beckoned her forward with a beaming smile. His high-pitched voice had captured the attention of one of the patrollers who began to shoulder his way through the press of bodies, heading right in Janni’s direction.

She spun round and fixed the trader with pleading eyes. “I have no creds and I need a place to hide for a few minutes. Please will you let me inside?”

The trader hawked and spat into the dirt. He peered around her tense body before giving a reluctant nod. “Be quick and do not venture any further into the palace.”

As she brushed past, he grabbed her arm, his spindly fingers digging deep into her flesh. He added, “Do not touch anything.”

“Thank you.” Janni tore out of his grip and hurried inside the shadowed interior.

Palace, he had called it. At some stage in its long life, she guessed it could have passed as a sumptuous dwelling for a wealthy trader, but now refuse and rubble littered the hallway. The once ornate and intricately carved ceiling was ruined, most of the pattern rubbed back to peeling ceiling-board.

A deep voice rumbled behind her, the words too faint for her to make out. Janni shrank against the side of the passageway. Footsteps became louder.

Bollocks to the trader. She had to hide.

Quickening her pace she hurried along the winding hallway until she reached the end where she looked both ways. To the left, light gleamed, picking out the faded colours of the rainbow hued wall and to the right, all lay in darkness.

She took the left. The passageway hooked round and opened into a massive room.

Oh … my … god
.

“No matter where I travel in the verse, there is nothing more glorious than the sight of fresh water,” murmured a deep voice.

Janni jumped and glanced over her shoulder to find the very patroller whose fine-boned face and smiling eyes had danced through her dreams since she met him on the way-station six months ago.

He smiled and indicated with a sweep of his armoured hand, what had transfixed her a second earlier. “I am not on duty for another four rones.”

Unable to pluck a coherent word out of her head, Janni glanced behind him but the patroller was alone. She stared back at him, none the wiser.

“I have paid twenty creds for the use of these facilities.” The patroller smacked his lips with relish; his eyes glittered with shards of gold. “You cannot deny to me, how you must long for the feel of real water against your skin. Here we have the most precious commodity of the Besa System, water from the Flaviani Spring. We will share this delight together.”

On Board
The Freedom
: Present Time

The sulphur smell grew stronger, burning Janni’s nostrils as she sucked in a deep breath to steady her shaky nerves. The sharpness snapped her back to the present.

A long low grinding metallic noise came from within the bowels of the ship.

Startled, Janni hissed in a short breath and cast a swift look about the passageway. “What the hell was that?” She cringed at the high note in her voice.

The patroller’s gaze followed hers as he slowly straightened, allowing his hand to fall away from the wall. When he turned back, a deep frown pulled his black brow together. “I do not know, but we had best make haste.”

Instead of hauling her back towards the docking pads, he punched a code into the panel beside the door. Once opened, he pulled her inside the command centre.

She stared and forgot the niggling unease teasing her skin. The room was bare except for one long barren console.

What had happened here? Had the ship already been ransacked?

The temperature had dropped to a level so icily cold, her bones ached like an old woman’s. When a shiver racked her body, her captor rubbed his hands up and down her bare arms. She gaped at him but he was busy examining the room. His beautifully cut lips compressed into a thin line while his narrow eyed stare slowly traversed the compartment.

With difficulty, she wrenched her gaze from his face, from where she had been staring at the curve of his sinfully cut lips, remembering the hard press of his hot skin against hers. She frowned and imitated his scrutiny.
What was he searching for?

“Evidence.” His deep voice rumbled through her body.

Had she spoken her thoughts aloud? She edged sideways, hoping to distance herself from his unsettling aura, hoping he hadn’t discerned the trembling weakness of her body.

He sighed. “There is nothing here.”

Janni took another step. It took a monumental effort on her part to leave the reassuring warmth of his touch but, hey, she was a loner. She needed no one. She had stopped needing anyone when she had been taken from Earth as a teenager and left to fend for herself in an alien world.

Don’t forget, he’s the enemy. He’ll take you back to prison, a salvager can expect no mercy from a Darkon
, whispered her voice of reason. She lifted her chin and gave a derisive snort. “What did you expect to find? People? Hell, this wreck must have been abandoned for years. There’s nothing here.”

“I need to check one more area.”

“Check for what?”

The grinding noise rumbled through the ship and ended with the screech of rending metal. Janni jumped. She sank her teeth deep into her lower lip to hold back the whimper of fear that stabbed like icy spikes into her spine. Sucking in a steadying breath, she said, “Let’s get out of here. This place is like a ghost ship.”

“There are no ghosts on this ship.” The patroller’s smooth voice reeked of patronising amusement.

“Then, explain what is making that noise.” Janni tossed her head and returned his irritated glare.

He harrumphed and stomped off to inspect the consol. Despite her rising trepidation, she hurried after him and peered about his highly toned body, watching while he ran his fingers over the embedded panels. He stopped, his hand hovering above the board. Then to her fascinated gaze, the air appeared to crackle with energy and a slab of metal rose above the counter, half a metre high. He placed his hand, palm down in the centre of the small structure and white light flickered along both sides of the blackened counter. Red and green lights flickered on, then off.

The ship shuddered.

Janni staggered, her body bumped against the patroller who lifted his head and stared at the panel, an astonished expression on his face.

“It is not responding!” Disbelief resonated in his voice. “I will double check the sequence.”

What wasn’t responding? And seriously, what did it matter?
“Whatever you’re doing, please stop,” begged Janni.

Another massive shake rent the ship, like a beast waking from a deep sleep.

Janni yelped as the movement sent her flying sideways. With her hands bound, she couldn’t stop herself tumbling onto the floor. At the last moment, she twisted and landed on her side instead of her face.

“Are you damaged?” He must have moved fast to reach her mere seconds after she hit the floor.

“Only bruised, I’m fine,” she mumbled. Janni tried to evade his touch but the patroller hauled her to her feet, patted her down rather too enthusiastically in some places, his hands lingering, moulding, sending shock waves of memories slamming through her mind. She blew a tangle of hair out of her eyes and glowered. He gave her a quick grin, spun her round and the next instant her hands were free from the manacles. The metal had grazed her skin when she fell and she rubbed the sore area absently, while staring beyond the soldier standing so quiet in front of her.

The ship listed to the starboard side.

Overhead the ceiling lights zapped twice and darkness fell inside the command centre.

To Janni’s ears, their combined breathing sounded way too loud. She hastily released her grip on the Darkon’s arm when she realised she had reached out and grabbed him. And worse, she was actually huddling against his bulk.

“We have to get off this ship.” She paused to swallow over the constriction in her throat. Her voice barely a murmur, she continued, “Any idea what’s causing that awful smell?”

The patroller looped an arm about her waist, pulling her close and unwittingly, she leaned into his warmth.

His breath puffed against her cheek when he said, “We are not alone.”

Olman Garrison, Basa System: Six Standard Months Earlier

“What do you mean ‘we’?” Janni finally spluttered.

The patroller raised his thin brows and said, “You and I.”

“Mate, you have so got the wrong idea. I may steal a little here and there but I don’t whore for anyone.”

He titled his head to one side and regarded her. “Whore?” he queried in his pleasantly modulated voice.

Janni held her ground, raising her chin, hating the way heat washed like a river over her face and neck. Positive the freckles that dotted her skin would be standing out like a bad case of the measles. “Yeah, you call them sex slaves, ‘cept where I come from there ain’t no slaves.”