Read Ronan: Ziva Payvan Book 3 Online
Authors: EJ Fisch
Ronan: Ziva Payvan Book 3 (3 page)
“Get back!” someone yelled as she grabbed Sheen’s arm and began to run.
They made it across the walkway and managed to duck behind a low decorative wall just as the ship reached the earth. The impact sent tremors rolling through the ground beneath them and brought a hail of broken glass and debris raining down around them. Ziva threw her hands up to shield her face, feeling the sting of burning material as it met her skin. She held perfectly still and listened, risking a peek up over the wall as soon as most of the dust had settled.
The nose of the craft had penetrated the building’s walls, and judging by what she could see of the tail through the billowing smoke, it was one of the GA’s own fighters. She worked her way to her feet, eyes to the sky as she searched for any sign of where the ship had come from and what had caused the crash. The air was completely clear, and based on the chatter that flooded the nearby soldiers’ comm units, even the spaceport traffic was being directed out of the area.
Ziva stepped out from behind the wall, ignoring Sheen’s warnings about subsequent explosions. “Affirmative; it came down against the northwest corner of Mess Hall 3,” she heard him saying into his communicator. “Do we have any idea where it came from?”
Sirens wailed within the building and military personnel poured out the front door, coughing and sputtering and looking wildly about. Ziva grabbed one man by the shoulders and helped him steady himself against the wall, narrowly avoiding a pair of base firecars that came swooping down out of nowhere. The emergency response crews leaped into action, working to augment the mess hall’s gaseous fire suppression system that had been rendered nearly useless by the gaping hole in the wall.
She could hear the voice of whoever Sheen was on comm with shouting through the device. “But you said the clearance codes checked out,” the major responded. “What do you mean
MIA
?”
Ziva found she was only half-listening as she began to cautiously move toward the wreck. The fire crews had blanketed the downed ship in a thick layer of blue foam, successfully smothering the worst of the fire. Emergency responders closed in ahead of her, but even through the crowd and remaining wisps of smoke, she could see that the fighter’s cockpit was empty.
A loud
bang
echoed through the air just as her mind made the connection that something was very wrong. A large projectile shot up out of the cockpit, shattering what was left of the glass, and sailed into the air above the mess hall. Everyone in the vicinity froze and watched as the object reached its apex and burst into perhaps a dozen smaller pieces. A low hiss reached Ziva’s ears as the chunks rained down on the crowd, and she saw that each had begun to release a thin cloud of greenish-gray smoke.
“Gas!” someone screamed.
For once Ziva was glad to be stuck on Na at the base rather than dealing with a crowd of civilians in the city. The soldiers around her – for the most part, anyway – responded in an orderly fashion, throwing jackets over the gas canisters and moving about with minimal scrambling and jostling. Ziva sucked in one last breath and held it, but she knew it was too late; everyone in the area had been exposed the moment the main projectile broke apart.
She pivoted and began to run back toward the rehab center with Sheen hot on her heels. The gas had an odd smell to it, but so far it didn’t seem to be having any adverse effects – she felt no dizziness or faintness, had no trouble breathing. Her eyes smarted a bit, but whether it was a result of the gas or the fire, she wasn’t sure.
“That ship is one of ours,” Sheen called to her, his voice muffled by the hand clamped over his nose and mouth. He removed it when they had made it a suitable distance from the crash site, breathing hard. “We need to establish a quarantine zone!” he hollered into his communicator. “Make sure nobody from ground zero makes it out of the area. We have no idea if this stuff is contagious.”
Ziva released the breath she’d been holding and looked back at the scene behind them. The people were nothing more than shapes rushing about through the haze of smoke and gas. She could hear Sheen still on comm, reporting what he was seeing to whoever was on the other end of the transmission. Aircars from the base swarmed to the site, hovering at a safe altitude and barking instructions over their loudspeakers. As she took it all in, she couldn’t help but scoff. “All the best on my birthday,” she muttered.
The sound of the portable comm grid coming to life startled Skeet Duvo out of his thoughts. His long legs already dangled over the edge of the stiff little bunk he lay on, so he worked his way into a sitting position and planted his feet on the floor, standing bolt upright when he saw that the indicator light on the communications console blinked red.
He made it across the darkened room in two strides and hovered over the console for a moment, wide-eyed. A red message light meant only one thing: a transmission straight from Emeri Arion’s office at the Haphezian Special Police’s Noro headquarters. And that in itself meant only one thing: bad news.
Skeet ran a hand through his spiky orange hair and drew in a deep breath before accepting the transmission. “Duvo, Alpha 40318,” he said in response to the prompt that preceded the message. A series of tones and static followed, odd for a call coming directly from Emeri. But instead of the director’s gruff voice, he found himself listening to the eerie feminine voice of HSP’s virtual intelligence.
“General distress. Agency-wide emergency protocols in effect. All agents currently dispatched to the field are asked to cease communications immediately. Operate under Condition Black until further notice. Warning: for security purposes, do not attempt to establish contact with HSP or any affiliates during this time.”
Condition Black
. The team had conducted a mission under Condition Black once, Skeet recalled, but mainly for training purposes. They’d been allowed no contact with the agency, no contact with any other ops teams, no contact with
anyone
on Haphez for that matter. Although it seemed like they were being hung out to dry, the protocol was in fact designed to protect agents; if the agency was somehow compromised, anyone in the field could remain anonymous and, theoretically, work independently to counter whatever force threatened headquarters. If Condition Black was in effect
now
, it could only mean—
“Does the user have any queries before this transmission terminates?”
Skeet drummed his fingers on the console. “What’s the status of Noro Headquarters?”
“One moment…Noro Headquarters remains under Code Red lockdown following an attack on the Grand Army’s Na Base. Casualties have been reported.”
He felt his pulse spike at the mention of Na. “Nature of the attack?”
“Base officials have initially categorized the attack as type: chemical. No other information is available at this time.”
“Find person: Ziva Payvan.”
“Accessing personnel database…searching. Alert; status of person ‘Ziva Payvan’ not found. Please try again.”
“
Sheyss
,” Skeet muttered, ruffling up his hair again. “No more questions. End transmission.”
“Ending transmission. Warning: Condition Black protocols in effect. Please cease all communications immediately.” The VI repeated itself twice more before the call went dead.
Skeet swore again and immediately began packing the communications equipment into its compact carrying cases. Everything in the room had been set up in a manner that allowed it to be torn down and stowed in a matter of minutes. Even on his own, he got the job done in no time. He held his pistol up to check the plasma charge, bristling a bit when the door of the room slid open. A quick glance revealed that the intruder was only Aroska Tarbic, and Skeet slid his finger away from where it had subconsciously come to rest just above the pistol’s trigger guard.
If the former field ops lieutenant was surprised to see the room empty and their supplies packed, he concealed it well. “Can I assume this is about the emergency code I just received from Headquarters?” he asked, holding up his communicator.
Skeet nodded and gave Aroska a quick rundown of what he knew, which, he regretted, wasn’t much. “It sounds like the agency is secure for now. I’m sure they’ll be on board with the investigation on Na.”
Aroska was quiet for a moment as he checked his own pistol and slid his field pack over his shoulders. “What’s Ziva’s status?”
“Unknown,” Skeet answered. “There…were casualties. But I’m sure she’s fine. That base covers the majority of the moon – what are the chances she was even in the vicinity of the attack?” He forced a good-natured snort, trying to ignore the knot that had formed in his throat.
“We can’t worry about that now,” Aroska said, brow wrinkled as if it pained him to speak the words. He held up the data pad he’d been carrying when he entered the room. “We may have a lead, and you know as well as I do that we’re running short on time.” He offered the pad when Skeet reached for it. “Emissions signatures from a ship matching our target were picked up by a science team on Bectin. They said it was headed further out into the Fringe, toward Aubin or Plaunus.”
Skeet handed the data pad back and gathered up some of the cases he had packed. “Then what are we waiting for? Let’s get moving.”
Ziva sat motionless as the syringe impaled her arm and watched as the barrel slowly filled with her blood. The medical bot removed the needle and replaced it with a caura pad, which Ziva continued to press down on as she rose from the chair. She watched as the bot pivoted and transferred the blood to a delicate vial, sealing it and placing it gingerly in the padded case that contained everyone else’s blood samples.
She was one of the last people to have their blood drawn. The other soldiers from the crash site had already filed through the line and now loitered on the other side of the quarantine zone that had been set up in one of the base’s med centers. Everyone who had been within a certain radius of ground zero had been rounded up along with those who had escaped the mess hall. Combined, there were ninety-two people currently being held under observation. Each and every one of them had been hosed down, dried off, and sent through a decontamination chamber, after which they’d all been asked to give blood samples for further study.
It had been nearly four hours since the attack – that’s what everyone was calling it – on the base. The gas canisters and downed ship had been whisked away to secure areas; the former were now in the hands of some of the GA’s chemical warfare specialists, and the latter had undergone its own decontamination procedure before being moved to a garage to have its internal computer salvaged. Ziva hadn’t heard any news on that front, but the scientists had discovered that the gas had a chemical structure similar to known nerve agents. They hadn’t been able to identify it though, and so far no one from ground zero had showed symptoms of being exposed to a nerve agent of any kind. No abnormal pupil contraction, no loss of motor control, no convulsions. Still, they’d all been told to remain in the quarantine zone until everyone had given blood. The blood samples were meant to determine who had been exposed to the greatest extent, and, thus, who should be watched most closely in the coming hours.
Ziva moved forward to allow the last few people in line their turn with the medical bot. She caught sight of Sheen standing just outside the door of the room they were all being held in, communicator pressed to his ear. He’d been one of the first to have his blood drawn and had been on comm ever since. He beckoned when he saw she was watching him.
“Lieutenant,” he said, nodding her way as he ended his transmission. He glanced around and took a few steps further down the hallway.
“Have you learned anything?” she asked, instinctively lowering her voice.
“Five from the mess hall are dead, all ground marines. Eight others are injured, including pilots from the airborne division and a fleet commander.”
“And what of the fighter?”
“It entered Na airspace approximately two minutes before the crash. Air traffic control was treating it like any other GA ship, at least until they realized the tail number matched that of a fighter reported missing in action out on the edge of Fringe Space several years back. It was one of several ships presumed lost in a skirmish near Forus.”
Ziva took a moment to mull the information over. “Do you think someone captured it back then and reprogrammed it to fly here and release the gas at the base?”
“Considering there was no pilot, that’s what we’re wondering,” Sheen answered. “It has been confirmed that the autopilot system was active. But these fighters aren’t equipped with FTL drives. It would have needed a carrier to bring it here, just like it needed one to get to Forus in the first place. We’ve checked and re-checked the traffic patterns in this quadrant, but with the number of ships coming and going from Noro Spaceport, it’s difficult to draw any conclusions.”
“I need to
get
to Noro.”
“I know, and we’re letting you go. All air traffic to and from the base has been shut down, but HSP is teaming up with us to take care of running the blood tests, so we’re sending a single shuttle planetside with the samples. Your director requested that you return to Noro aboard that ship. The agency headquarters has been on lockdown since the attack, but they’ve been told to expect you and someone will grant you proper clearance when you arrive.”
Ziva nodded. “When do I leave?”
“As soon as all the samples are packed,” Sheen said, peering past her into the larger room. “Are you still feeling okay?”
“Fine. You?”
He nodded and held up his communicator, transferring a code he’d received to the data pad she still carried. “Here’s your clearance to board the shuttle. Now, I’ve got to go set up briefing sessions and give an eyewitness testimony at a press conference. Someone’s got to tell the rest of these people what’s going on. Take care of yourself, Lieutenant.”
“You too,” Ziva replied with a dip of her head.
She watched him go then wasted no time in returning to the large room, where the crowd was finally beginning to disperse as the quarantine was lifted. A couple of MPs had taken over the medical bot’s position and were sealing the padded cases that contained the vials of blood. She showed them her data pad then picked up one of the cases, following them out to the shuttle that had touched down just outside the med center. They stowed the cases and strapped into their seats, and without further ado the shuttle lifted into the air.
Through the craft’s tiny windows, Ziva could see the AA guns throughout the complex come to life and begin tracking them as they ascended. Pairs of GA fighters fell into position on either side of the shuttle, though she wasn’t sure how much good they would do against whatever enemy ship was big enough to have brought the old fighter into Haphezian airspace. If anything, a fighter escort was only calling attention to the fact that the shuttle contained valuable cargo.
To her relief, the journey remained uneventful. A trio of aircars from HSP came to meet them as they descended into the sky above Noro; the presence of the police vehicles kept the surrounding traffic at bay, and the procession followed a clear path down to the agency headquarters. A large group of agents waited on one of the landing pads that jutted from the side of the campus’s tallest building. As soon as the military vessels touched down, personnel from HSP’s forensics and disease divisions were climbing aboard the shuttle, gathering up the blood samples and hustling them away to the labs.
Ziva waited for the chaos to ebb before stepping out of the ship. It was the first time she’d set foot on the HSP campus since being arrested for Officer Tachi’s assassination, and it somehow felt surreal, especially after all the things she’d been considering earlier that morning. She started across the landing pad toward the door, wondering how she was going to get into the ops wing if no one had given her clearance yet. As she walked, she couldn’t help but notice the woman who stood just inside the doorway, watching her intently with pale yellow eyes as she approached. She was tall, only a few centimeters shorter than Ziva, but thin and wiry. Her thick black hair was woven into a braid that wrapped around the back of her head and cascaded over one shoulder, and she wore a sharp business suit and heels. As Ziva drew nearer, she could make out the Royal Officer’s insignia on the screen of the data pad the woman carried.
“
Sheyss
,” she muttered.
“Ziva Payvan,” the woman said, taking several stiff steps toward her. “Agent Aura Stannist, Disciplinary and Personnel Control Specialist from the Royal Offices.” She extended her hand.
Ziva crossed her arms, ignoring the handshake offer. She wondered how much time had been spent sitting around trying to come up with such a creative title for a probation officer.
“Director Arion warned me about you,” the woman sighed, returning her hand to her side. Her face remained deadpan, her eyes scrutinizing every aspect of Ziva’s appearance and posture. “We can do this the hard way if you want, but I’ll warn you now: I will not tolerate any
sheyss
from you. You should know that on the authority of the Royal Officer, I virtually have control of this campus for the duration of my stay. That means I can make your life a living hell if I want to. But if you do your job right, I get to file clean reports and you don’t have to go to prison. We both go home happy.”
As much as Ziva despised the situation, she had to admire this Aura Stannist’s tenacity. “I won’t let you stop me from doing my job,” she said, continuing to move in the direction she’d been headed.
“I’m not here to stop you,” Aura retorted, effortlessly matching Ziva’s long strides despite the shoes she wore. “I’m here to watch you. Like I said, if you do your job
right
, we won’t have a problem.”
“So, what, are you going to just follow me around everywhere I go?”
“Do I need to?”
Ziva shot a hot glare over her shoulder.
The probation officer quickened her pace and cut Ziva off. “Here’s the deal. You maintain a clean slate, and I back off and give you some space. You cause trouble, and I’ll be riding your ass for the rest of your probation period.”
“Are you always such a
shouka
?”
The expression on Aura’s face still hadn’t changed. “I’m just fighting fire with fire, Payvan.”
Ziva heaved a sigh. “Fine. I need to get moving.”
“Your spec ops clearance has been restored,” Aura said, passing her an access key. “This will get you into the ops wings. Director Arion also instructed me to send you to his office forthwith.”
Without another word, Ziva snatched the key from her and kept walking. “I have an office on the spec ops squad floor!” she heard Aura call after her. “I’d like to see you there as soon as you’re finished with the director!”
Ziva ignored her words but could feel the woman’s cold gaze boring into her back. She quickened her pace a bit, muttering under her breath.
Fighting fire with fire,
she thought. At least the Royal Officer – she realized she didn’t even know the new guy’s name – hadn’t sent some spineless rodent to babysit her. Judging by the way Aura Stannist carried herself, the woman had spent at least a little time in the military or even at HSP. Despite her thin build, she was obviously strong; the desk job hadn’t softened her at all, physically or mentally.
Maintain a clean slate
. If she could stay out of trouble for the first couple of months, Ziva reasoned, the probation officer might ease up and she’d be able to resume her old habit of bending the rules. She wasn’t one to misbehave out of spite, but at the moment she wanted nothing more than to toy with Agent Stannist, in much the same way as she had toyed with Dasaro by shooting Nejdra on Chaiavis. Leaving the agency was out of the question now, too. A formal resignation might do the trick, but getting up and running off while this woman was watching her would be nigh on impossible.
“Ziva!”
The sound of the man’s voice shattered her train of thought. She whirled, almost annoyed that someone would dare interrupt her brooding, but she relaxed immediately when she saw who had called to her. Adin Woro jogged down the hallway after her, gray eyes bright but face hardened by worry.
“You made it. When we heard about Na, we feared the worst.”
“Adin,” Ziva greeted, nodding in his direction. The fact that he seemed to be taking so much interest in her arrival set her on edge. They’d collaborated on a couple of missions in the past but they’d never been close, and Ziva made a point of avoiding anyone outside of spec ops as it was. “Where is everybody? I thought Skeet and Zinni would be around when they heard I was coming.”
The shadow that fell over Adin’s face made her bristle. “Nobody told you?” he said quietly, taking a step closer to her.
“Told me what?”
He shook his head. “You need to go talk to the director.”
Ziva closed the already-short distance between them, looking him directly in the eye. “Told me what?” she repeated. “Where’s my team?”
“Look, if nobody’s explained anything to you, I shouldn’t—”
All the anger Ziva had felt throughout the morning – at the magistrates, at Hoxie, at the attack, at Aura Stannist – came flooding back. She let her data pad slip from her fingers and seized Adin by the shoulders, pushing him back against the wall and taking up fistfuls of his jacket. “What
happened
?”
“Take it easy, Ziva,” he said. His voice remained low and even, and he maintained eye contact despite the passersby who had stopped to see what was wrong. Although Ziva had never known him that well, she’d always admired his ability to keep his cool regardless of the situation. “There’s not much I can tell you because I don’t
know
that much. You’ll need to talk to Emeri if you want details, but…there was an accident.”
She released him immediately and took a step back, fighting away the sickening wave that coursed through her stomach. “What does that even mean?” she snarled, hoping she hadn’t sounded quite as desperate as she felt.
“Short version? Zinni has been taken and I lost contact with Skeet and Aroska earlier this morning.”
“Taken? When?”
Adin swallowed hard. “Four weeks ago.”
Ziva stood with a gaping mouth as the word
weeks
echoed through her mind. Hours she could live with, maybe even days. But weeks? “
Huhren shouka souhn
,” she swore, spinning on her heel and taking off as fast as she could down the corridor. She tore through the employee canteen and up the stairs, pausing just long enough to swipe her access key and grant herself entry to the spec ops wing. She slipped into the first open elevator she found, pacing back and forth across the car for the duration of the painfully slow ride. When the doors opened onto Emeri Arion’s private floor, she stormed across the room and slammed her fist against the call button outside his office door…then again, and again.
