by EJ Fisch
Dasaro bent down closer, drilling into her with emotionless black eyes shrouded in the shadows of the darkening room. He glanced at her hands on his arm as if he couldn’t even feel them. “Where is she?” he growled.
Zinni didn’t dare break eye contact for fear of revealing how terrified she was. She winced against the discomfort of his thumb pressing on her bone. “I don’t know,” she replied through her teeth, listening for anyone who might be nearby. It was late in the evening and many agents had already left for the day. No one seemed to be around.
“Somehow I don’t believe you,” Dasaro said. He adjusted his grip, shifting his thumb over to her windpipe. “I think she’s got help on the inside.”
Zinni clutched his arm, feeling panic beginning to set in as it became harder to breathe. She felt her feet leaving the ground as Dasaro’s entire palm enveloped her throat. She clung to his arm with both hands, trying desperately to support herself.
Blackness began creeping inward from the edges of her vision just as something threw Dasaro off balance, causing him to release his grip. She slid to the floor with her head pounding and rubbed her sore neck for a moment before a gentler hand took her by the arm and hauled her to her feet.
She found herself standing behind Skeet, who had positioned himself between her and Dasaro and now stood facing the captain with his arms crossed. Dasaro eyed them both maliciously, particularly Zinni, but then he directed his attention toward Skeet.
“You’re lucky I don’t report you for striking a commanding officer,” he said with a smug grin that told Zinni his words were more of a threat than a statement.
“If you’ve got a problem, Dasaro, you bring it to me. Leave her alone.” Skeet held his ground.
Zinni felt an immense combination of anger and embarrassment settle over her once her mind cleared. It wasn’t often that she found herself as completely helpless as she had been a moment before, and it was humiliating. Dasaro had taken her totally by surprise, as her attention had been focused on the data pad. She stooped down and gathered the device up.
“He thinks we know where Ziva is,” Zinni said, feeling rather emboldened. She placed a hand on her hip, straightening her shoulders.
Skeet regarded her without taking his eyes off the captain. “Is that it?” he muttered. “Well, we don’t.”
Dasaro took a step closer to the two of them. “Fine,” he said, “but know this. We will get to the bottom of this, and if we find out you’ve been helping her, it will be the end of the line for both of you.” He glared at them a final time. “Now get out of here. That’s an order.”
-19-
Palace of the Royal General
Haphor, Haphez
The estate of Njo Jaroon loomed ahead, swathed in the silver light of the only two Haphezian moons that had managed to peek out from behind the dense, dark clouds. Ziva glanced up at what she could see of the sky through the thicket in which she was concealed. A strong wind somewhere high above kept the clouds gliding steadily across the black void beyond, causing the moons to blink in and out like lights someone was switching on and off. She shivered against a chilly breeze that carried through the damp bushes and drew a deep breath, watching the little cloud of steam diminish in front of her as she exhaled.
She was sitting cross-legged at the base of the wall surrounding Jaroon’s mansion and yard, identical to the one she had allegedly climbed over to enter Tachi’s palace just down the road. Directly behind her on the other side of the wall was a thoroughfare that cut straight through the Royal City, the private community in the center of Haphor in which all the dignitaries and their families lived. She had left the relay station at dusk, and it had taken her well into the night to reach her current location due to a massive boost in security. Aircraft patrolled the night sky with spotlights and there were nearly twice as many guards as normal on duty. The process of infiltrating the Royal City had been painfully slow, but now here she sat, well-hidden in the shadows.
Ziva slowly let out another breath, letting her eyes follow a member of the Royal Guard who was coming around the corner of the house and making his way across the yard. He was dressed in full uniform and toted a rifle as well as a service pistol, just like every other guard who had passed by in the half hour she’d been watching. Like the others, he also carried a small spotlight that bathed the grass in bright blue light as he walked. Ziva watched until he disappeared around the side of the mansion, then focused her attention on the corner from which he had come, counting under her breath.
The next guard in the rotation appeared precisely twenty-two seconds later, flawlessly following the pattern Ziva had been observing. If being the stepdaughter of the Royal General – however estranged – had any perks, it was that she had come to understand almost perfectly the security systems at all the palaces. Even with the boost in numbers, there was still a distinct pattern she’d been able to pick up on in just a short time.
From her vantage point, Ziva peered up to the three balconies jutting out over the back patio, supported by several large columns. Each belonged to an apartment-style bedroom within; the one on the far right was her half-brother Jaril’s, and the one in the middle had once belonged to her but was now used for who-knew-what. The room on the left, the one nearest to her, was the one she had her eye on.
Wincing against the pain in her side, Ziva slowly began to move through the bushes toward the edge of the grass, working every part of her body centimeter by centimeter so as not to disturb the foliage. It took her a good ten minutes to move far enough that she could get turned around and lower herself onto her stomach. There she lay for another several minutes, allowing herself to once again become invisible in the darkness. Three more guards passed as she estimated the height of the balcony and waited until the moons had once again gone behind the clouds.
In a single silent movement, she pushed up with her arms and forward with her legs, already sprinting by the time she reached an upright position. Five strides across the large lawn, she yanked the grappling hook from her belt, unraveling the sturdy cable as she moved. Eighteen seconds. She skidded to a stop at the edge of the patio, taking a moment to steady herself, and tossed the hook up toward the balcony railing above one of the massive columns. It caught on the first try, and she pulled the cable taut. Fifteen seconds.
Ziva’s arm and shoulder protested angrily as she braced her legs against the column and began to climb. The extra effort sent fire shooting through her midsection, and for the briefest of moments she wasn’t sure if she’d make it to the top. Her foot slipped as she reached for the railing, but she caught the edge of the balcony before she could fall. Six seconds. Get up there! Gritting her teeth, she established a grip on the railing and hauled herself over the edge, unhooking the grappling cable and collapsing to the balcony floor just as the light from the next guard’s spotlight became visible at the corner of the house.
Ziva lay there flat on her back with the tangled cable resting on her stomach, listening to the grass crunching under the man’s boots. When he paused for a moment, she turned her head and saw the beam of light extended out over the yard as if he were taking a closer look at the bushes. She held her breath until she heard him move on. Unsure if his delay had thrown off the pattern, she waited for the next guard to pass before she rolled over, got her feet under her, and slipped through the glass door into the darkness of the room within.
Thin curtains billowed slowly in the breeze that had come in through the open door, and she held them for a moment to stop the movement. She stepped aside so her silhouette wasn’t visible in the recurring moonlight and began coiling up the grappling cable as her eyes adjusted to the dark.
The room was good sized, with every living accommodation short of a kitchen. Light from the hallway outside seeped in under the door directly across from her. To her left was a quaint sitting area situated around a small table. A desk and private communications grid were positioned in front of a picture window overlooking the side yard and the so
uth side of the Royal City. A large, extravagant lavatory and a walk-in closet the size of the Intrepid’s cargo hold made up the remainder of that half of the room. To the right was a more private alcove where the occupied bed was surrounded by fragile curtains like the ones at the balcony door. A dark form was nestled into the white bedcovers, which had taken on a silvery hue in the moonlight.
Ziva walked forward onto the antique circle rug in the center of the room, unable to even hear her own soft footsteps. She made her way over to the bed and pushed a curtain to one side. Jada Jaroon remained motionless except for the rising and falling of her chest as she snored softly. Her face was turned away, and her long braid trailed across the pillow like a serpent attached to the back of her head. As Ziva watched her sleep, she felt a sudden pang of jealousy and wished she could be as much at peace as her young human friend.
Inching a bit closer, she rested a knee on the edge of the bed and leaned over the sleeping young woman, who started to stir just as Ziva clamped a hand over her mouth. Jada was immediately awake, clawing at Ziva’s arm, looking wildly about with wide eyes. She grunted behind the hand and began to lash out with her legs, but she fell still and silent as the two of them locked eyes.
Ziva slid her hand from Jada’s mouth and moved away to sit on the edge of the bed as the girl sat up. “Sorry about that,” she said quietly. “I wish I could sleep as well as you do.”
Jada rubbed her eyes. “How—” she began, but then thought better of it. “No, I won’t even ask how you got in here. I forgot who I’m dealing with.”
“Do you believe what they’re saying about me?”
The young woman was quiet for several seconds. “I believe the Ziva Payvan I know wouldn’t do the things they’ve said,” she replied, a hint of uncertainty in her voice that Ziva had never heard before. “If there is another Ziva who would go so far as to kill Tachi, it’s not the same one I’m talking to right now.”
Her words brought little comfort to Ziva, though it was better than anything else anyone had said all day. “I hate to ask you for help, but I need it if you can give it.”
There was a split-second hesitation before Jada nodded. “Of course; anything specific I can do?”
“A little caura would be nice,” Ziva replied, wiping away the bit of perspiration that had forced its way out onto her forehead.
Jada climbed out of bed, her delicate night clothes flowing as she glided silently across the room. Ziva remained near the bed while the young woman slipped into the lavatory and retrieved three caura treatment autoinjectors from a cabinet on the wall. “These are low dosage, not much good for anything worse than a headache. But they might help.”
Ziva nodded her thanks and lifted her shirt, turning to study her bruised ribs in the moonlight. The treatment wouldn’t be enough to completely mend a damaged bone, but it would alleviate some of the pain and help draw more of her body’s natural healing agents to the area. She touched the first autoinjector to the skin just to the left of the bruise, feeling a measure of relief the moment the small needle penetrated her flesh. She stuck herself in the shoulder with the second, hoping to ease some of the discomfort throughout her arm. The third went into the little pouch on the supply belt; she had no doubt she’d need it later.
Already feeling better, Ziva moved to the closet where she found Jada rummaging through a footlocker nestled back under the hanging clothes. From it she removed a fiber mesh vest, followed by a stack of credits and a handful of plasma cells. She held the vest up to Ziva, sizing it without a word, then handed it to her along with the credits.
“I don’t know if any of these will fit what you’re carrying,” she said, displaying the four plasma cells, “but feel free to take what you want.”
It didn’t appear that any of them matched her stolen weapon, but Ziva selected two anyway and placed them on her belt. “Thank you Jada. Your help means a lot.”
“I only wish I could do more. Do you have a plan?”
Ziva pocketed the money before removing the riding jacket and pulling the vest on over her soiled clothing. It was a bit snug, but enduring the slight discomfort was better than getting shot. “This should be enough to get me back to Noro,” she replied. “Once I’m able to leave the planet, things will get easier.”
Jada crossed her arms, her eyes filled with the same strange uncertainty her voice had possessed earlier. “And just how do you plan on doing that?”
In all reality Ziva still wasn’t quite sure. “For your own sake I’m not going to tell you any more than I already have. HSP’s net isn’t as tight as they think it is, and if anyone has the advantage here, it’s me. I know how they operate, I know their procedures. They’re not going to bring me down.”
“This is big, Ziva. There are a lot of people after you.”
That was it. “Jada, I don’t like your tone,” she hissed. “Now what’s the matter?”
“All of this is just incredibly taxing,” the human girl answered in a shaky voice. “I don’t know who to believe, and even if I did I wouldn’t know what to believe. Ziva, what if they find out you were here? What will happen to me?”
“That’s not going to happen,” Ziva replied, feeling her cheeks start to flush with anger. “I wouldn’t have come here if I thought it would incriminate you.”
Jada nodded and rubbed away a tear that had escaped her eye. “Just be safe, okay? I don’t know how all of this started, but it seems to me that you’re the only one who can stop it.”
Ziva moved back to the balcony door and brushed the curtains aside, peering out over the yard and watching as the spotlight on a distant aircar swept over the structures of the Royal City. “Believe me, Jada. Someone out there chose the wrong person to start this fight with, and it will have been the last mistake they ever made.” Without another word, she slipped through the door and disappeared into the night.
-20-
HSP Headquarters
Noro, Haphez
Noro was just beginning to rise over the crest of the hills that surrounded the city of the same name. Diago Dasaro turned away from the window, interested in anything but the sunrise, and watched Nejdra Venn and Kyron Hoxie enter the situation room. Judging by the general demeanor of the two captains, they’d had little or no rest overnight and the hunt for Payvan hadn’t yielded any results. After dragging through a sleepless night himself, Dasaro’s patience was running thinner than ever and he let out a deep breath in the form of a growl.
“Nothing!” Nejdra exclaimed as she came to a standstill at the table. “It’s unbelievable. Absolutely nothing!”
“The trail is still cold at the checkpoint,” Hoxie said, elaborating on his associate’s outburst. “The homing beacon on the missing bike has been effectively disabled and there’s still no sign of the officer it was registered to. We’ve been unable to pick up a signal from his communicator.”
Nejdra rested her hands on her hips, her face twisted with fury. “You’re sure we’re not just dealing with a deserter there? Do we know for sure Payvan even took the bike?”
“There were footprints found around the camp that matched those discovered at the crash site,” Hoxie explained.
“And what of the crash survivor?” Dasaro snarled in Nejdra’s direction. She’d been responsible for that sphere of the investigation. “Agent Spence.”
“He was released from the Severe Cases Center in Haphor late last night,” the woman replied. “They’ve got him under observation at a local med center now, and they say he’ll be ready for questioning later this morning. But get this – he’s already claiming Payvan is the one who pulled him out of that car.”
“Well,” Dasaro muttered, “we can’t have that now, can we?”
“It’s probably true,” she said with a shrug. “And if it is, she saved the man’s life. With that injury, he wouldn’t have lasted long in the position he was in.”
Dasaro eyed her warily. “It still needs to be dealt with.”
“We’ll head over there
soon and take care of it,” Hoxie assured him.
Dasaro looked out the window again and blinked against the sun, which was by now casting golden light across the city. “Tracking Payvan down is going to take time. Until then, we can’t let her have anything.” He looked up at the other two captains. “Ruin her.”
-21-
Residential Sector
Noro, Haphez
Dust swirled around her with each breath she took. The window of the abandoned house was covered in such a thick layer of grime Ziva could barely see out of it. It hardly mattered however, because no one outside could see her concealed in the shadows within. She didn’t need a crystal-clear picture of the street either – only a general view of the shapes that passed by, particularly any that entered or exited the house across the way.
The first light of dawn had been visible by the time she’d made it back to her hoverbike at the relay station. She’d pushed the machine to its limits, reaching Noro in a bit less time than it had taken the prisoner transport to travel to Haphor. Upon arriving in the city, she’d gone immediately to a street bazaar where she’d purchased an unregistered communicator and a new pair of boots from behind the cover of her helmet. After dumping her old footwear and the stolen comm unit into the river, she’d maneuvered back into the residential area of the city where she’d found this house exactly as she remembered it. Energy depleted, she was grateful for the opportunity to sit down and rest after yet another miserably long night.
She noted the time. After two hours of watching and waiting, she concluded it was safe to approach. Unfolding her legs, she rose to her feet and removed her helmet from where she’d set it on what had once been a kitchen counter. She hesitated for a moment before opening the door and surveyed the trail she had left. There was a clear semi-circle on the floor where she’d been sitting, and there was an abundance of well-defined footprints coming from where she’d broken in through the back window. No matter. In the improbable case that someone searched this dilapidated little house, such marks couldn’t be traced back to her.