Read Ronan: Ziva Payvan Book 3 Online
Authors: EJ Fisch
Ronan: Ziva Payvan Book 3 (10 page)
-16-
Emeri looked up when he heard the knock on the frame of his office door. With the lockdown in place and the number of people coming to speak to him, he’d opted to leave the door open for once. Now that the threat level had been reduced to Code Orange, he imagined he should probably lock it again.
Aura Stannist stood there, her face scrunched as she eyed him distastefully. It was the same hostility she’d regarded him with since she’d realized Ziva was gone. Emeri had denied any involvement in her disappearance, but he could tell there was no fooling the probation officer – or Disciplinary and Personnel Control Specialist or whatever absurd title she went by. Still, for one reason or another, she hadn’t reported him to the Royal House. She’d been involved with HSP at some point – he vaguely remembered hearing of her transfer to the Royal Offices just before he’d been named director – so perhaps, in a way, she understood the camaraderie among ops agents and, subsequently, why he’d allowed Ziva to leave.
“Agent Stannist,” he said, straightening. “How can I help you?”
She strode toward him, as rigid as ever, with the light from his massive picture window reflected in her pale yellow eyes. “The last of the VIP detainees has been released following the lockdown. Any word from Payvan?”
It almost seemed like she kept asking just to rub it in his face – surely she actually knew the answer. “As I have already explained, there’s no way to hear from her or the rest of her team until Condition Black has been lifted.”
“But Condition Black
has
been lifted.”
“All off-world agents are bound by the protocol until they return to base.”
“And you have no way of knowing how long that will take?”
Emeri shook his head. “Typically, the agents will return to the system and use outside resources to gather intel before even approaching the planet, much less Headquarters. The protocol has only been in effect for six days – typical return time is two weeks.”
An exasperated growl escaped Aura’s throat. “You know I could say two words to the Royal Officer and have you thrown out on your ass for this.”
“And yet,” Emeri said, tilting his head and not bothering to finish his sentence. She’d already threatened him, almost verbatim, on the day of Ziva’s departure. She was right – it probably wouldn’t be difficult at all for her to get him fired – but if she hadn’t made good on her threats yet, she likely never would. He just hoped Ziva would be able to track her team down and return in a timely manner; he may have offered to cover for her, but that didn’t mean he planned on enjoying the experience.
His comm system buzzed, cutting off Aura’s next words before they could escape her mouth. “Priority transmission from Na for you, sir,” one of his secretaries announced. “It’s originating from the medical center.”
Emeri stood, glad for the interruption, and strode to the communication pad at the head of his conference table. In his peripheral vision, he could see Aura still standing in front of his desk. Her crossed arms and cocked hip told him she wasn’t planning on going anywhere.
The hologram of Doctor Anson Baez materialized on the projection pad across the table. The man was an old friend who had essentially been his liaison to the military for the past two months, but now that Ziva’s rehab and trial were over, hearing from him was troubling. The worrisome look on the doctor’s face confirmed that the news he bore wasn’t good.
“Anson. What can I do for you?”
“I’m afraid we have a problem.” Even in the hologram, Emeri could see the sheen of sweat glistening on Baez’s forehead. The man was breathing hard as if he’d been in a hurry. “We’ve been monitoring all the soldiers involved in the attack the other day, paying special attention to those who were exposed to the gas to the highest degree.”
“I’m glad our analysis of the blood samples was helpful,” Emeri said. “Has the higher exposure brought about any unique physiological developments?”
“You could say that,” Baez answered, wiping his brow. “The priority patients we identified via the blood tests began showing…
adverse
symptoms this morning. Extreme confusion, loss of motor control, seizures. Initial studies showed the gas – whatever it is – had the chemical composition of a nerve agent, but at the time nothing had happened to the victims to indicate such. I guess now we know for sure.”
“But they haven’t showed any symptoms before now?”
“Some reported minor headaches, but the med center gave them basic treatment and wrote it off as a reasonable side effect considering the trauma they’d undergone. But you want to know the really strange part? Brain scans show that there’s still internal neurological damage, and the headaches have reportedly gotten worse, but they’re all virtually fine now, at least on the outside. Functioning almost like normal.”
The knot that had been forming in Emeri’s gut tightened. His thoughts drifted to Kat Reilly’s data and the substance the young woman had been injected with. Following the attack on Na, a comparison had revealed that it was nearly identical to the gas released at the base, just in a liquid state. The minor differences between the two substances still had scientists stumped, and they had yet to be identified. But these symptoms? These seizures and headaches followed by relative normality? Emeri shuddered – this sounded all too familiar.
“What about the other victims? Those who were exposed to a lesser degree?”
“The med center is rounding them all up as we speak,” Baez said. “Specialists have already had a chance to examine some of them. These people are also reporting headaches, but so far they’re not exhibiting any of the major symptoms. Still, scans are showing heightened brain activity, and they’re recognizing some of the same patterns they saw in the other victims. I hate to say it, but based on the reports I’m reading, I have a feeling the symptoms
will
start manifesting, just more slowly.”
“You’re telling me
anyone
who was exposed is at risk to some degree.”
“That’s correct. The decontamination processes they went through following the attack rendered them non-contagious, but the chemical had already been introduced into their bloodstreams by then.”
“
Sheyss
,” Emeri muttered, dropping his palms to the table. “Ziva was there.”
“I know,” Baez said quietly. “That’s why I contacted you. It’s crucial that she return to the base so the neurologists can examine her and keep her under observation. Until we figure out what this chemical is, I’m not sure what all we can do for the victims, but I’d hate for her to be out in the field when the symptoms begin to manifest.”
“Captain Payvan
is
in the field,” Emeri said, pinching the bridge of his nose. He could almost feel Aura’s cold glare boring into his back. “She’s currently operating under Condition Black, a protocol that involves zero communication with Headquarters. She has severed all ties until further notice. I have no idea where she is.”
Baez remained silent for several long seconds. His shoulders sagged and he swallowed. “That’s…problematic.”
Both men stared at their feet as they each contemplated the gravity of the situation. It seemed, in the past few months especially, that nothing could ever go smoothly. Emeri sighed; standing there wasn’t going to help them find Ziva and her team. “Thank you for contacting me, Anson. I’ll send Payvan your way as soon as I hear from her.”
Baez dipped his head and rushed away, effectively ending the transmission. Emeri steeled himself and turned to face Aura, who was no doubt reveling in the fact that she’d been right.
You win
, he thought.
“I suppose it would be inappropriate to say ‘I told you so’,” she said, sliding her hands down to her hips and shifting her weight to her other leg.
The look on her face had been sufficient enough for Emeri to tell exactly what she’d been thinking. “And yet that didn’t stop you,” he said, brushing past her as he returned to his desk. “What the hell kind of mess have we gotten ourselves into?”
“I think you mean what kind of mess have
you
gotten us into,” she snapped. “Whatever kind of mess it is, it’s yours to clean up. On the authority of Royal Officer Jan Ganten, I’m ordering you to devote any resources not dedicated to the Ronan investigation to finding Payvan. Right now, I don’t care how precious she is to this agency. She’s
mine
for the next year, and I want her back here, with or without her team.”
The room he was in was ill-lit and dusty – Aroska could tell that much before he even opened his eyes. He was fairly certain he was lying down, though he didn’t remember how he had gotten there. The last thing he
did
remember was falling face-down into the sand in the middle of the desert.
He was suddenly aware of a strange pressure in his arm and he pried his eyelids apart long enough to glimpse a needle penetrating his skin before the light, however dim, forced him to close his eyes again. A pounding headache raged through his skull and the thought of having to wake up nearly made him sick. But considering where he was and the things he’d been investigating, having an unfamiliar needle stuck in his arm was the last thing he wanted.
Gritting his teeth, Aroska willed his eyelids to open again and dragged his right hand over to his left arm. The needle was attached to a thin tube that ran up the wall and into a sack of clear fluid hanging above him. His fingers found the needle, but he refrained from pulling it out as his mind continued to process the situation. The realization that he wasn’t actually in danger hit him just as a voice rang out across the room.
“Don’t touch that.”
His foggy mind struggled to ascertain the identity of the speaker as he rolled his head back across the pillow and strained to see. The first thing he noticed was Skeet lying on a cot a short distance away; he too had a makeshift drip line attached to his arm. A figure sat at a small table, obscured momentarily by a wave of blackness that washed through his vision.
He realized it was Ziva just a split second before his eyes finally managed to focus on her. She sat at the table cleaning pieces of what appeared to be a large rifle. The tabletop was covered in a fine layer of sand, and piles of the stuff had gathered under the area where she was working. He suddenly remembered being dragged out to the desert, dazed and sick, and passing out just before he was supposed to be executed. Considering Ziva’s rifle and the fact that he was still alive, it wasn’t a stretch to assume she’d had a hand in his rescue.
Aroska tilted his head back and looked up at the tiny window above the kitchen counter. A dark cloud swirled by high above, blocking out the light from the sun. The force field held fast, keeping the cloud at bay, but he could still hear the wind howling as it rushed through the streets and he could feel the building shudder.
“Sandstorm,” Ziva said before he could even ask what was going on.
He didn’t remember anything about a sandstorm, and he was beginning to wonder exactly how long he’d been unconscious. Images of the sprawling desert and scorching sun flashed through his mind, but nothing else. “You got us out….” He wasn’t quite sure what he was trying to say.
“The wind was in our favor – that might have been the only thing that saved us. I brought you in through a different portal than the one the Durutians took you through, and that took extra time. The portal was already closed by the time we got to it, but they opened it back up when they saw us coming.”
Aroska vaguely remembered riding in a vehicle, though whether it was the Durutians’ or Ziva’s, he wasn’t sure. He could picture her tearing across the desert, pushing the car to its limits while the roaring sandstorm closed in. He didn’t know how she’d found them or taken out their Durutian captors, but he knew if she hadn’t, he and Skeet would now be buried under mountains of sand, never to be heard from again.
“Thank you,” he murmured, attempting to prop himself up on his elbows. The movement was almost nauseating; the room began to spin, and his throbbing headache intensified.
“Lie still and rest,” Ziva snapped, though there was a certain tired quality in her tone. “I’ll strap you down if I have to.”
Aroska tried to scowl but the skin on his forehead felt tight and brittle. He reached up to touch it and found that it was peeling off in flakes, leaving tender pink flesh behind.
“Yeah, you’re not looking so hot right now, pretty boy,” Ziva said, setting the rifle down and coming to loom over him with crossed arms. “That sun is hell, isn’t it? You’re dehydrated and burned. Like I said, don’t touch that drip line. The fluids have been infused with caura extract that should get you all fixed up within a few hours.”
He ignored her and continued his quest to sit up. “Let me at least—”
“I said lie down,” she growled, halting his movement with a solid hand and pushing him back onto the cot. “Just lie there and shut up. Please.”
“
Sheyss
, Ziva,” Aroska said, settling into a more comfortable position. He watched her stride back across the room and sit down hard in the chair, resuming her cleaning with a certain aggression that seemed to be directed more at him than the rifle. He imagined it was her way of telling him she was angry that he’d gotten into her strongbox…and also that now was not the time to talk about it.
More rest did sound appealing, and he didn’t have the energy to argue with her. He turned onto his side, making sure not to disturb the drip line, and watched her past drooping eyelids. With as busy as he’d been for the past few days, his fear for her safety had gotten pushed to the back of his mind. Part of him was okay with that, the part that still wanted to be angry with her for everything she’d done to him. But now she’d gone and saved his life again, and he once more felt his resolve weakening. He did care about her – he’d even admitted it to Kade Shevin – but he was finally starting to understand why that was a problem. It was exactly what Ziva had talked about, the reason she tried so hard
not
to care about people. In a way, he still thought her behavior was ridiculous, but at the same time he realized where she was coming from. Aroska pictured himself scouting the Durutians and being ambushed while lost in thought worrying about her. He knew he wouldn’t have stood a chance.
Now that it was over, he felt all the suppressed fear bubbling to the surface, despite the fact that they were all safe and sound. He recalled the day they’d received the news about the attack on Na and was glad he’d been out and about so Skeet couldn’t see his initial reaction. Thankfully the prospect of chasing Ronan’s ship had given him something else to devote his energy to, but for a brief moment the thought of losing her had been debilitating. The feeling was identical to what he’d felt that day in Argall as he’d sprinted toward her lifeless body on the landing pad. All that blood, her deathly pale features…the fear that he was too late had rendered him completely numb. For a very brief moment, he’d realized he hadn’t felt despair on such a scale since discovering Saun Zaid was a traitor. The fear. The
fear
. First Saun, the woman he thought he loved, then Ziva, the woman he…what, exactly?
Aroska relaxed as Skeet’s raspy voice snapped him out of his thoughts. “Where the hell are we?”
“Zylka Base,” Ziva answered as she began piecing the rifle back together. “You’ve been unconscious for a couple of hours.”
Aroska could see Skeet reach up and touch his face, feeling his own peeling skin. He groaned and muttered something about the force field, then he turned his head and seemed to process Ziva’s presence for the first time. “Z,” he breathed. The word was somewhere between a question and a sigh of relief. “How’d you get here?”
They both listened as she repeated her story, including new details Aroska hadn’t heard yet. She’d arrived in the city early that morning and hadn’t found them here at the apartment. Ray, the man who’d given Skeet intel earlier, had mentioned the Durutians and had given her the address of their compound. She’d followed their truck out to the desert, where she’d managed to take out all four of the ‘borgs before Skeet or Aroska could be killed. She’d gotten them back into the city, barely managing to avoid the sandstorm, and the brown cloud still swirled by on the other side of the force field.
The more Aroska heard, the more he was beginning to remember. He could still feel a tender, tingly spot at the small of his back where that red-headed Durutian woman had hit him with the stun baton. He remembered being struck by the cyborg leader and subjected to that awful sedative; he probably still had some of the stuff in his system – just one more factor contributing to his current state of lethargy.
“Wait,” Skeet said, furrowing his eyebrows and immediately wincing as his crusty skin stretched. “You asked Ray about the Durutians? How did you even know about them? How did you even know to come here?”
“Emeri suggested I go to Niio first, considering that’s where you were when Condition Black was implemented,” Ziva replied, fitting the last couple of pieces of the rifle back together. She bit her lip and grimaced in embarrassment, and unless Aroska was mistaken, she was trying not to smile. “I may or may not have struck a deal with Tobias in order to find you.”
Skeet’s maniacal cackle was startling and almost seemed out of place, but as he listened to the other man laugh, Aroska couldn’t help but crack an incredulous smile himself. No, now that he thought about it, there was nothing to be incredulous about. Ziva was exactly the type of person who would waltz in and demand help from the head of the Niiosian Mob.
“You struck a deal with Tobias Niio,” Skeet cried, still laughing. “One of these days, I might finally stop being surprised by the things you do.”
Aroska had never had the pleasure of meeting Tobias Niio, but the mobster’s reputation preceded him. “And he just told you what you wanted to know?” he asked, trying once more to prop himself up on one elbow.
“I owe him a favor now if that’s what you’re asking,” she answered, sending him a scolding glare for daring to move. “And believe it or not, he’s looking for Ronan, too. The Durutians who took Zinni killed some of his men.” She stood up and came around to the near side of the table, leaning up against it with her arms crossed. “Tell me about the group you’ve encountered here. Are they the same ones?”
“Based on the timetable, we thought they might be,” Skeet said, coughing a bit as he finally recovered from the fit of laughter. “Ray said they’d been here about three weeks. There wasn’t any sign of Zinni in the compound, at least that we saw, but these people were definitely interested in us. They had eyes on us the moment we arrived.”
“They’re good,” Aroska admitted, thinking of how the red-headed woman had managed to take him from behind in the alley. “Probably special forces of some sort, considering the way they move.”
Ziva directed her gaze toward him, regarding him with that familiar cold, calculating stare he’d seen during their very first encounter in Emeri’s office. It was the same condescending look that had made him want to strangle her for the majority of the Dakiti mission. “I assume they tried to question you.”
That was it. “Okay, enough!” he said, sitting up before she could protest. “What the hell is your problem?”
“Oh, I don’t know, possibly the fact that I got done with rehab only to be sentenced to a year of disciplinary probation, caught up in a chemical attack, and told that one of my only friends had been captured
four weeks earlier
by some mysterious entity nobody can find. Then I sold my soul to the Niiosian Mob and chased you two halfway across the galaxy, arriving here just in time to take out a squad of ‘borgs in the middle of the damn desert before they could execute your sorry asses.” She paused and heaved a sigh that sounded almost apologetic. “Let’s just say it’s been a rough few days.”
You’re not the one who was paralyzed and dragged out to be buried by a sandstorm
, Aroska thought. “Look,” he said, “blame me for all of this if you want, but I’m
not
sorry I took that data pad and syringe. The majority of the agency is on board right now and we’re a lot closer to finding Ronan than we ever would have been if you’d kept this all to yourself.”
She stared him down for several more seconds, regarding him in a way that would have sent him running for cover in the past. But the days of letting her manipulate him were over, and at the moment, part of him regretted ever wasting his time being worried about her.
“What did the Durutians want?” she asked with another sigh, unfolding her arms long enough to massage her tired eyes.
“Not a lot,” Skeet replied, glancing between the two of them. “They asked who we were, who we worked for, but that was about it. I don’t think they were huge fans of the face time – they’d kept their distance for the past two days, but they were forced to take action when we took action. They were careful about saying things or letting us see anything that might give away who they were working for. One of them called the leader ‘Taran,’ but that’s all we know.”
“The guy seemed distraught,” Aroska added, “almost like he was taking our presence personally. He also said something about starting fresh, like we weren’t of any further use to him.”
Ziva gnawed at her lower lip and nodded to herself as she listened. “
Starting fresh
. If these people took Zinni but were ready to cast you both aside….” She didn’t need to finish the sentence for them to know what she was thinking. Things weren’t boding well for the intelligence officer, assuming she was even still alive.
“What do you propose we do?” Aroska murmured, settling back down on the cot as another bout of lightheadedness began to set in.
Ziva shrugged as if there was only one option. “First, we wait until you two are on your feet again.” She checked the time. “Another five hours should do the trick. The storm should have run its course by then. And then? I think we’ll go pay this Taran a visit.”
