Portal

by Sydney Morgann

  The swirling colors inside the dome churned. Abruptly, the head of some alien creature appeared in the midst of the wisps of color. Its black eyes bulged from a golden-domed skull. It had no nose and only a tiny slit for a mouth. Its ears were long and pointed.

  With pinpoint lights of red, the eyes fixed upon Cea. Give me your thoughts human, it whispered into her mind just before the rending and tearing into her brain began.

  Deep inside her mind, Cea screamed in terror, but no sound passed her lips.

  Chapter Seventeen

  Tal shook his head and spit dry sand from his mouth. A dull roar in his ears made his head spin as he propped his arms under him and rose up to peer around. What met his sight was the bulbous, yellow stare of Forni-Gator slavering over his prone body. With a quickness that startled the creature, Tal flung his body backward and to the side, rolling out of the way, just seconds before the beast's jaws snapped over the spot where he had lain.

  A roar of approval echoed from above where Crowe's men stared down at the spectacle. A bright flash of metal and the dull sound of something heavy hitting the sand momentarily captured his attention. Someone had thrown him a weapon to replace the one he'd lost!

  His hand reached out and grasped the long, twisted dagger. Leaping to his feet, he held the weapon in front of him, his body in a defensive posture, almost doubled over. His gaze fixed on the reptile now cautiously moving sideways toward him, searching for an opportunity to strike.

  “Come on, English! Go for it! He's just a little lizard!” Crowe shouted from the rim of the pit.

  The beast gathered its four hind legs and leapt into the air with a suddenness that left no room for error. Its jaws opened and the front claws positioned like pincers, ready to snap around Tal's body ready for the kill.

  Using his crouched position to the best advantage, Tal tumbled forward into a controlled roll and came up under the creature, then shifted to the side just as the beast came down upon the spot where he'd been only a moment before. Before Forni could turn, Tal leapt onto its tail then ran up the large ragged scales of its back until he was behind its head. Clamping his thighs tightly, he straddled its neck, sending the reptile into a frenzy of head shaking in an effort to dislodge him.

  With one hand holding onto the ridge of a neck scale, Tal pried another up with the dagger then plunged it to the hilt into the enraged creature's neck.

  A roar erupted from the crowd of onlookers when Forni-Gator thrust his massive head up and back, almost throwing Tal into the air.

  Tal hung on with both hands and gripped with both legs while the beast threw it's massive body from side-to-side, bellowing with pain and rage. Red froth spewed from its mouth, spraying the walls of the pit. When the beast staggered and slowed, Tal pulled the dagger out and plunged it back in again, pushing with all his strength.

  The creature reared in one last convulsion of agony then fell. The ground shook under the beast's great weight.

  Panting and trembling with reaction, Tal took a few moments to collect his wits while the observers up top went wild, applauding and cheering. When he finally glanced upwards, he saw Crowe's face, a mask of black rage, staring down at him. Tal smiled grimly.

  Malcolm pushed men aside and lowered a rope down. “Agent English! Grab the rope. I'll pull you up.”

  Tal slid off the dead creature's back and grabbed the rope, grateful he wouldn't have to climb up and reveal to Crowe he didn't have the strength left to accomplish it. Malcolm pulled him up within seconds. Tal staggered onto the lip of the pit and stood next to Malcolm, who secreted a hand to his back, supporting him while he caught his breath and re-gathered strength.

  “Not bad,—for a human,” Malcolm whispered.

  Now clothed in a pair of soft, leather breeches and matching black boots, Crowe made his way to Tal. “So, you killed my pet, English.” He eyed Tal with a speculative look. “Nobody has ever even come close.”

  Crowe reached over to a nearby table to grasp a goblet of wine then took a deep gulp, allowing some of the thick, red brew dribble down his bare chest. After wiping his mouth with the back of his hand, he nodded at Tal. “I must say, I'm impressed with you, despite your history. If my man comes back with confirmation that you are what you say, then I'd like you to join me. Maybe become one of my captains. I'll even forget all the losses I suffered at your hands. Bygones. What do you say?”

  Tal grinned and picked up a goblet then hoisted it toward Crowe's cup. “I say, here's to partnerships and making a lot of money.”

  Crowe lifted his cup and thrust it against Tal's. The pirate leader took another deep gulp of the wine then threw the cup to the floor. “Good,” he said as he motioned to a couple of men standing behind him and Malcolm. “However, until I'm sure about you, I think it wise to keep you restrained.”

  Crowe smiled as the two men grabbed Malcolm and him from behind, pinning their arms. Other men quickly put shackles on their wrists and ankles. “Just in case. After all, you just proved how dangerous you can be,” Crowe added with a smirk.

  The blur of a small foot aimed at Crowe's groin appeared in Tal's periphery. At the last second, Crowe grabbed the foot and thrust it upward, landing Penny on the floor.

  She spat and cursed up at Crowe. “You lousy, slimy bastard! You have no honor,” she screeched, her face a mottled with rage.

  Crowe planted a foot in the middle of her chest and laughed. “Honor? Among pirates? You came to the wrong place for honor, whore.”

  Penny reached up and dug long nails into Crowe's calf then raked them down, leaving bloody furrows down his inner leg.

  He roared then raised his foot and kicked her squarely in the face. She lay still and white.

  “Cunt,” he muttered, giving her prone figure one last kick in the side.

  “Get them out of here—and the slut, too,” Crowe said, spitting down at Penny.

  The men holding Malcolm and Tal flinched. The bigger of the two asked, “Where ya want ’em, boss?”

  “Take that spitfire bitch to the men's quarters and let them tame her. But I want the men right here, Bera. Where I can keep an eye on them,” Crowe replied, waving a hand at a heavy table at the foot of the dais. “Run a chain around the legs of that table and put them there.”

  When the men pushed them toward the table, Crowe held up a hand. “No, on second thought, let's put them in a very suitable guest suite, shall we?” he said with a malicious grin on his face. “In the pit, where they can be at their ease.” He laughed.

  While two men picked Penny up and took her unconscious body from the room, Bera and the other man, using sharp daggers, prodded them toward the pit. “What a nice idea, boss,” Bera chortled as he poked at Malcolm with his dagger.

  Malcolm flinched, fell forward and stumbled at the edge of the pit. Tal tried to grab him. “What the hell is this, Crowe? I thought we had a deal?” he roared while struggling to hold onto Malcolm.

  “We do, dear boy, just as soon as I know you're not a spy. Until then, enjoy my hospitality,” Crowe said, settling back onto the lounge on the dais. “Nothing personal, just business,” he added, grabbing a servant woman and taking a goblet from her hand with a grin. “And pleasure, of course.”

  He nodded to Bera.

  When they hit the bloody sand next to the dead beast, he glared up at the doors closing on the pit. “Nothing personal, huh? Maybe for you, Crowe, but it's become damn personal for me,” Tal muttered.

  When the pit was plunged into total darkness, he whispered, “Malcolm? Are you okay?”

  “Yes. Just a bent servo in my right knee,” came the reply from Tal's left. “What do we do now, Agent English?”

  “First, we recover that dagger from Crowe's pet, then we find a way out of here. After that, we find Cea and Penny, destroy the damned alien machine and get the hell off this rock. Hopefully, destroying this base and blowing up Crowe at the same time,” Tal spat.

  “Where did Captain Knight go, by the way? I didn't see her leave,” Malcolm ask
ed.

  By the sound of his voice, the android with his advantage of night vision had moved closer to Tal's position.

  “She went to find the machine. Hopefully, by now, she found and disabled it,” Tal said, making his way on hands and knees toward the animal. By the increasing stench, he knew it lay just ahead. “Let's hope Crowe doesn't notice she's gone.”

  He ran his hands up the scales of the dead beast's neck until they closed on the dagger still embedded there. “With our luck, he will, and we'll have to find both her and Penny before we can get shed of this hell hole.”

  He pulled until the dagger came free. He wiped it on the sand then stuck it into the waistband of his pants. “Doesn't matter what it takes, Malcolm. Whatever we have to do to get us all out here, we'll do. One way or another.”

  “I just wish I knew how you plan on doing it, is all,” Malcolm said from beside him. “Remember, I'm a machine. I like organized, logical plans. Human unpredictability is very upsetting to me.”

  “Yeah, to me, too,” Tal replied, almost allowing himself a laugh. “First thing we gotta do is find a way out of here. Use your night vision and search the outer walls. There's got to be some kind of door.”

  When Malcolm moved off to search to the left. al muttered “I hope” as he moved off to the right.

  Chapter Eighteen

  Cea woke up with the feeling that her head might explode at any moment.

  Tentatively, she registered that she could feel things around her again: a soft padding under her, a gentle breeze wafting across her body, the smell of oranges, candles and strong tea, warmth on her face—and the sensation of being stroked. Inch-by-inch, her consciousness crept back to reality until, with a snap, her eyes opened. Filling her vision was a pair of coal black eyes.

  She screamed.

  The face hovering over hers drew back. A wide smile and curling black hair completed the vision. “Ah, it's a shame you are awake. I was enjoying myself, Crowe said, continuing to run his thick fingers along the outside curve of her breast. “Such a lovely creature,” he murmured, licking his lips.

  “Where am I?” Cea asked, glancing around a room, lit only by candles. The bed was draped with wispy fabric, hiding details of the room's furnishings outside where she lay. “How did I get here?”

  “I had you brought here.” He ran a finger over the hollow in her neck then up along her jaw line. “Seems you suffered an unfortunate ... mishap ... when you went spying, my dear. It's a good thing we found you so soon. Otherwise, you'd be dead by now. Did you find what you were looking for?” His eyes twinkled with an unspoken challenge.

  Now aware that his body pinned hers down, Cea forced herself to relax, remain calm, and think before she spoke. “I got bored,” she replied through dry lips. “You men were foul, and that room, even fouler. I went for a walk. That's all. I wasn't spying.”

  He sat up, still pinning her pelvis down with his lower body, and peered at her with a quizzical look. “So you say. But how can I believe you when my guards found you in a place where you shouldn't have been, little one?”

  She eased her upper body up, propping herself her elbows. “How was I supposed to know that? I thought we were welcome here,” she said, glaring at him. “Or, does your welcome come with barriers, like a prison?” she added with a challenge of her own.

  He eased his chest down, his great weight easily forcing her back onto the bed under him. His hands grasped both her wrists and forced her arms above her head. He stared into her eyes. “Not a prison for those who prove loyal to me, but far worse to those who come to betray me,” he rasped. “Which are you? Friend or foe?”

  “Friend,” she whispered, fighting back tears of pain as her arms began to ache from the strain.

  “We'll see,” he replied, releasing one of her wrists to reach out and snap a cuff around the one he still held, locking her to the rail above her head. “But, my dear, you'll have to convince me of it.” He grasped her free wrist and locked it into a matching cuff. He rose up on both arms to look down at her face. “And, it will take some very strong evidence on your part to convince me.” He chuckled as he began to cut her clothes off with a small dagger. “Yes, very strong evidence.”

  He licked his lips.

  Chapter Nineteen

  Ferret scurried down the cramped earthen tunnel like a nocturnal animal in search of buried seeds. The dim lamp attached to the helmet on his head barely lit the way, but Ferret knew these tunnels well. He moved down them in a crouched pose, at home as any rodent in its den. His nose twitched at every corner, sniffing the stagnant air, testing it for familiar smells, before he turned or kept to his course. After what seemed like hours inside the secret tunnels under Crowe's base, his nose finally told him he'd arrived at the destination he sought.

  “I found it, damn him to hell!” he muttered while his hands began digging in the sandy soil that blocked a wall on his left. “I'll show him I'm not a useless piece of garbage to be tossed to the dogs whenever he feels like being entertained.” His hands scrabbled at the soil until the ragged nails encountered the stone behind it. “I'll show him he can't hurt me and get away with it,” he spat as he cleared the rest of the soil from a large block of stone.

  When the edge of the block was cleared, Ferret ran his small hand around the outer edge until he found a small cleft that housed a latch. He pushed the latch and heard it click into place. The block began to move out. Ferret grasped the outer edge and pulled until an opening appeared, revealing only pitch black inside.

  He hissed into the hole behind the block. “Hurry! Hurry you fools! This way.”

  A pair of hands reached through the opening and grasped Ferret by the neck. He was dragged inside, one hand still around his throat and the other pressing a wicked dagger against his skin. He gasped, kicked, tried to bite, but the hand held firm.

  Within the dim circle of light from Ferret's hat, Tal's pale face stared down at him with shock. “Ferret? How the hell did you get here?” The bigger man loosened the grip on his throat.

  Ferret gasped, rubbing his bruised appendage. “Fine way to repay me for helping out, English. I came to rescue you and that robot fella. And, this is what I get for it.” He glared up at Tal.

  “I didn't know it was you,” Tal replied, scrambling into the tunnel beside Ferret, making way for Malcolm to follow.

  Malcolm stared down and smiled. “Hello there. Thanks for coming to our rescue.”

  Ferret glared harder at Tal. “See? He knows how to be a gent, even if you don't.”

  “Sorry, Ferret. Now, we have to get out of here and find Cea and Penny. Can you lead us out?”

  Ferret snorted. “Ask a stupid question! Of course, I can get you out, you idiot. First, push that stone back. Crowe don't know about some of these tunnels, and I don't want him findin’ out too soon, neither.”

  Malcolm pushed the stone back until it clicked into place. Then, Ferret turned his back on it and, using his front hands like a dog, dug sand from the tunnel and flung it backward until the stone was hidden again. When it was completely covered, he turned, inspected it and grinned. “That'll keep it. Follow me.” He turned and began to scamper back the way he'd come, glancing over his shoulder to make sure Tal and Malcolm followed.

  “Why are you helping us?” Tal asked, bent over into a cramped posture, but still managing to follow closely behind.

  “I hate Crowe,” Ferret spat as he moved along the tunnels. “Just do me a great favor and kill the bastard—very slowly and very painfully,” he added, as he turned left.

  “Gladly,” Tal retorted. “First chance I get.”

  Chapter Twenty

  Penny woke up in a room that reeked of old sweat, vomit and odors she couldn't identify and didn't want to. Torn between the desire to retch and the pains in her side and her cheek where Crowe kicked her, she decided to ignore them all and sat up. She was perched on an old cot in the middle of a large room filled with bunks and tables. Dimly lit by oil lamps along all four walls, the
room seemed medieval, complete with stone walls and an ugly metal door.

  Staggering to her feet, she made her way to the door and tried to lift the metal bar, but it wouldn't budge. Swearing, Penny hit the door with her fist and turned to inspect the rest of the room, hoping to find another way out.

  A thump and clank from the door alerted her that someone was coming. She quickly made her way back to the cot and lay down, pretending to be unconscious. Within seconds, two men entered, drunk, staggering and laughing at some coarse joke.

  “The boss said we boys that had to work tonight and missed all the fun in the hall would have a nice present when we got off shift. Where is it? I'd like to know,” the tall, fat man said, peering around the room.

  The short, thin one angled a long neck toward Penny's cot. “Well, well, well. What have we here?” he croaked. “The boss sent us a nice piece of pussy, Clyde. Take a look over at the cot to your right.”

  Clyde whistled. “All right! Now, this is what I call a real present, Punter!” He shambled closer to the cot, fumbling with the dirty vest and breeches he wore. “Me first.”

  “Hey! Wait a minute here!” Punter protested. “Why do you get to go first? That's not fair. We should draw for her.”

  Clyde tore his vest off then hopped on one foot, pulling his last boot off. The smell of rotting fish permeated the room. “Not this time, Punter. You got to go first last time, and the whore smelled so bad I almost puked all over myself. I'm goin’ first this time.”

  He tossed the boot across the floor and tore the buttons off his pants to get them off. He staggered toward the cot, his flabby buttocks and flaccid penis jiggling. “It's only fair I go first this time,” he mumbled, approaching the cot with a grin that showed several missing teeth and others as black, rotting stumps.

  “Ah shit, Clyde. Okay, but make it quick,” Punter muttered, lurching toward a table in the center of the room so he could watch. “I'm horny. Can't wait too long.” Collapsing onto the bench, he rested his head on the wooden table top and was soon snoring.