Ronan: Ziva Payvan Book 3 (29 page)

“Look for a hatch, a ladder, anything that might lead to a cargo space,” she instructed.

“Here!” one of the agents called, shining his light down a steep staircase that appeared to descend into the hold.

Ziva nodded and followed him down with the other agent hot on her heels. The corridor below was narrow and lit only by dim red lighting panels. Their layout told her they were the primary light source for this passage and weren’t merely safety lights that had been activated following the crash. She was glad they had the spotlights; the red hue was already giving her a headache, and she couldn’t imagine what reason the crew would have for keeping the cargo hold so dark.

She took that back. There wasn’t a
good
reason to keep the cargo hold so dark. She didn’t need to hear the muffled cries to know this was where Ronan’s soldiers kept their prisoners. Those cries grew louder the further she and the agents progressed down the corridor. They seemed to be coming from within what would have normally been a storage room had this been a legitimate vessel. Smoke from the fires on the deck above was seeping through whatever crevices it could find and the entire area smelled of hot metal. Whoever was in that room needed to get out
now
.

Ziva motioned for the agent in front of her to hit the control panel. She and the man behind her rushed inside as the door opened, drawing screams of alarm from the people within. They shied away from the light, covering their faces with their hands. A quick glance around revealed no other source of illumination; it was impossible to know how long they’d been locked away in total darkness.

“HSP!” she called. “Everyone stay still!”

The smell alone told her they were all Haphezian, but with all the movement and only one light as of yet, it took her a moment to realize they were children.
The
children. They all appeared unharmed at first glance, though judging by the angle of the floor they’d probably been tossed around a bit during the crash. The other agent entered with his light, giving her a clearer picture of the room. Yes, eleven Haphezian children were present and accounted for.

Another familiar scent reached Ziva’s nose just as she caught sight of a twelfth figure in the back corner. A flicker of blue in the dark ignited a similar flicker of hope that managed to burn through the disbelief she was feeling. “Zinni,” she whispered.

A second pair of Salex agents arrived and made their way into the already-crowded room, helping the dazed children to their feet and escorting them to the door. Ziva pushed her way through the group to the corner where Zinni lay crumpled in a heap with a child under each arm. One of them wriggled away and stumbled blindly out the door with the rest of them. The other, a little boy with amber stripes running through his tousled black hair, remained in his place and tried to bury his face further into the folds of Zinni’s shirt. Ziva didn’t need to look at his
gesh punti
; even with his head partially obscured, she could see he had the same facial structure as all of the Tarbic men.

“Chyler,” she said, closing a hand around his arm. He perked up upon hearing his name but shied away from the unfamiliar touch.

“We’re here to help, son,” one of the other agents said, reaching down to help him to his feet. “We’re going to take you home.”

The boy whimpered and struggled as they took him to the door, but at least he seemed to understand. For a moment Ziva’s thoughts were drawn to what had just transpired in the warehouse and she wondered what exactly home would be like from now on. She hadn’t gotten a close look at Maston, but things hadn’t appeared to be boding well for him.

She returned her attention to Zinni and dropped to one knee, examining the intelligence officer for obvious injuries. She found none except for a trickle of blood oozing from a lump on her forehead. Based on the dent in the smooth metal wall beside her, she’d hit her head in the crash. She wore a sweat-stained tactical outfit, likely the same one she’d been wearing on Niio sans the armor plating. Her hair was tangled and greasy, and her sunken eyes were squeezed shut to escape the light.

Ziva pressed her fingers to Zinni’s neck and was pleased to find a strong pulse. “Zin? Are you with me?”

“About damn time you showed up,” the intelligence officer murmured. The words had barely been audible, but at least she was talking.

Ziva suppressed a smile, glad her friend seemed to be okay. It wasn’t until she slipped her hands under her arms and began to drag her to the door that she realized what bad shape she was in. Though Zinni was still a far cry from the prisoners they’d discovered at Dakiti, Ziva had to fight away an image of herself dragging Jole Imetsi out of the murky holding cell they’d both been locked in. The woman was malnourished and could barely do anything to help herself along. Ziva considered carrying her over her shoulder, but one of the other agents arrived and together the two of them moved her out into the red corridor and back up to the main deck.

Several Salex agents were passing by as they emerged, escorting two more Resistance soldiers at gunpoint. Both were limping and their faces were bloodied, and they were of the same general height and stature as the man who had been captured in Haphor. Their armor even bore similarities. It was difficult to tell thanks to the way they were walking, but they may have been Nosti as well. The thought gave Ziva chills. She imagined they might attempt to keep their abilities a secret in order to hide their affiliation, just as the other agent had done at first. But now there were at least four new soldiers in custody. Four new Nosti on the planet. Four
too many
Nosti on the planet.

She and the Salex agent transported Zinni around to the front of the building where an HSP shuttle was just touching down beside the still-idling car she and Aroska had arrived in. Skeet was on his way down the boarding ramp before it had even hit the ground. He sprinted toward them and all but shoved the other agent out of the way in his quest to take hold of Zinni.

“She’s weak but seems to be hanging in there,” Ziva said before he could even ask for details. “She was even talking a minute ago, but it looks like she banged her head pretty good.”

“And the kids?” Skeet said, beckoning wildly to members of a medical team as they arrived on the scene.

“All eleven are accounted for, and they’re all mobile and coherent. Ronan’s men were holding them all in a storage room in the cargo hold.”

“Any idea what’s been done to them?”             

Ziva shook her head. “We need to give them all a full medical workup and have them checked for…” She hesitated as the medical team drew nearer and mouthed the word
nostium
. “If you ask me, whatever they’ve done to the kids is different than what they’ve done to Zinni.”

Skeet looked down at the intelligence officer as she was placed on a hovering stretcher, torn between staying by her side and discussing confidential matters. He risked a couple of steps away and lowered his voice. “Emeri was on comm with Baez just before we picked the ship up. Thanks to the scans you provided and the data they gathered on the prisoner, the engineers on Na have managed to whip up a countermeasure. It’s temporary at best – it’s just designed to slow down the effects of the nostium – but that could buy them time to come up with the real thing.”

Ziva nodded, relieved that her sacrifice was proving to be of some use. “You oversee the treatment process. I want all the kids and Zinni given priority admission to HSP’s med center, checked for nostium exposure, and treated accordingly. I’ll finish up out here and rendezvous with you in a couple of hours.”

“Got it,” Skeet said, taking a couple of jogging steps to catch up with the med team. He paused after a few strides and turned back to her with that telltale crease cutting across his forehead. “You all right?”

She wasn’t sure if he was asking about the shootout with the Resistance soldiers or about her surprise visit to the Tarbics’ house. Her answer was the same either way. “I will be.”

He gave her an understanding nod and rushed off, leaving her to wonder about Aroska for the first time in over ten minutes. She resumed her journey toward the door through which they’d entered the warehouse and found him standing just outside, staring helplessly at the emergency transport that was just taking off on the other side of the parking area. He clutched his blood-stained jacket in one hand and a medic stood beside him, trying to get him to sit down so she could examine his injured arm.

He didn’t pay Ziva any mind as she approached. Upon closer inspection, it appeared her shot had merely grazed him. There was still a sizable chunk of flesh missing, but the plasma had cauterized the wound on impact and only small bits of blood oozed from the edges.

She had no idea what to say, so she stepped in front of him and said the first thing that came to mind. “Are you okay?”

His eyes shifted down to her and remained glassy for a moment as he struggled to focus. He made no move to respond and looked at her as if he hadn’t even understood the question.

“What about Maston?” She doubted he would reply, and his behavior was already giving her a sufficient answer as it was.

Sensing the awkwardness, the medic looked up and gave a subtle wag of her head. “Three projectiles to the chest. They were struggling to stabilize him. It doesn’t look good.”

Ziva sighed. Of course they’d had no way of knowing the ship would land here, or that Maston would be here for that matter, but this was exactly the sort of thing she’d feared would happen.

“We found the kids,” she said. “They all seem to be okay. Zinni was aboard, too.”

Aroska’s eyes had gone out of focus again, and she wondered if he’d heard a word she’d just said. Her attention was drawn to the blood smeared across his cheek in the rough shape of a handprint. The fact that it was on the side of his face opposite his own wound told her it wasn’t his.

She reached into the medic’s bag and took out a sterile caura cloth. “Here,” she said, removing the wadded up jacket from his hand. Based on the extent to which it was saturated with blood, she guessed he’d tried to use it to stop Maston’s bleeding. She replaced it with the cloth and closed his fingers around it to ensure he was actually holding it. “Clean yourself up, okay? You’re a mess.”

Her lifelong quest to keep people at arm’s length had resulted in a successful career, but if there was a downside to not letting herself care about people, it was that she had no idea how to properly console someone. Not only was Aroska hurting, but he was also in shock. Sympathy and impatience vied for control as she stood there waiting for him to react, and she didn’t know which one she should grant priority to.

“Come on, Tarbic,” she said, sighing again. She set the jacket down on a stack of nearby crates, bothered by the blood that now covered her own hand, and took the cloth back from him. Not wanting to be too gentle – she had to admit she wanted him to snap out of it – but also not wishing to be too harsh, she set about wiping the blood from his face. It was still wet, so the damp cloth only smeared it and made a bigger mess. She gritted her teeth and pressed harder.

The increase in pressure finally seemed to pull him from his stupor. “
Sheyss
, Ziva,” he muttered, snatching the cloth away from her. She imagined he’d intended to sound gruff, but his voice had been hoarse, strained.

She stood there for a moment and watched his pitiful attempt at wiping his own face before turning and cleaning her hands with a fresh cloth the medic offered. “I want him taken back to Noro, given a full workup.”

“Yes, ma’am,” the woman said. “That’s the plan.”

“Captain Payvan!”

Ziva turned, expecting to find one of the Salex agents or a member of the strike team Skeet had arrived with. Instead, she saw Sedna Tarbic rushing toward her from the edge of the parking area. A pair of HSP officers halted her advance.

The same anxiety she’d felt when Aroska had revealed his family’s presence in Salex seized control of her mind, and for several seconds she couldn’t move.
Get a grip and just tell her the truth; there’s no time for subtlety
. Ziva curled her hands into fists and strode forward, locking all other thoughts and feelings away for the time being.

“Captain Payvan!” Sedna called again. “What’s happening? Maston said something about the ship and then he just left and then I could see the fire from the house so I left the kids with the bots and I didn’t know—”

“I need you to calm down and listen to me,” Ziva said, harsher than she’d meant to. Now was not the time for tact. “We found the kids. They all seem fine, but they’re currently on their way back to Noro to be looked at by the agency’s physicians.”

The tears that had been absent from Sedna’s eyes all day finally made an appearance. “By the five moons, thank you,” she said, wiping at her face with her sleeve. She stole a peek over Ziva’s shoulder. “Is Aroska hurt?”

Ziva turned and watched as the medic led Tarbic over to one of the emergency transports. “He was shot,” she replied. “The wound is superficial though – he’ll be fine.”
At least in a physical sense
.

“And where’s Maston? He said something about following the ship to the plaza, but if it’s here…”

Her voice trailed off when she saw the somber look on Ziva’s face. She shook her head, and the tears immediately turned from ones of joy to ones of terror, of heartbreak.