Free The Portal (Novella) by S.E. Gilchrist Page B

Running a hand through the flattened tufts of her short, dish-blonde hair she sucked in a deep breath, spluttering into a mild coughing fit.
    Dust, engine fluids, damp skanky air and something else. She sniffed again.
    Sulphur! With uneasy images tumbling through her mind, she trotted along another corridor and worried over the source of that smell.
    At last! Triumphantly she reached out, her marker clutched in her hand, mere inches from the compartment door.
    Someone gripped her waist tightly; lifted her high and spun her round holding her effortlessly above the ground. Taken by surprise, she kicked out with her feet and swung her arms about, but failed to make purchase with her attacker.
    She recognised the uniform and her heart rate reached rocket mode.
    A Darkon patroller.
    Set roughly onto her feet, she tried a roundhouse punch but he ducked and snuck under her throw.
    The officer grabbed her hands, shoved them behind her back and held her face first against the door.
    Despair filled her, as the manacles snicked tight about her wrists. The thought of returning to the deprivations and danger of a prison cell set her stomach heaving with stress.
    “There is a heavy penalty for thieves who steal from the Darkon Guardians,” clipped the voice above her head. He whirled her around.
    Janni sniffled and battled her desire to burst into useless tears. As her gaze met his, she swallowed hastily to conceal her gasp at the young Darkon male who stood unhelmeted, before her.
    The Darkon patroller stared back, a heavy frown dug into his forehead. He muttered, “I wish I had found you on any ship but this one.”
    “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