by EJ Fisch
When he opened his bedroom door, the rest of the house was silent. Haze from his govino habit lingered in the living room, swirling lazily through the shaft of light shining in through the window. Aroska stood there at the end of the hall, watching and listening for any signs of Ziva. Perhaps she had already gone? He knew that was just wishful thinking. She wouldn’t have bothered going through the trouble of getting him sober or even coming to find him if she was just going to turn around and leave. Half of him saw her arrival as a sign – of what, he wasn’t quite sure – but the other half wasn’t ready for another round of Ziva just yet.
He continued silently down the hall with all of his energy devoted to listening, just as he had the previous day when he’d first heard someone enter his house. When he broke out into the living room, the sight of her lying on the couch startled him out of his skin. She was flat on her back with her head propped up against the armrest, arms folded across her chest, legs crossed at the ankles. She was still wearing her boots and her pistol lay on the center table, which had been pulled to within arms’ reach. Aroska couldn’t imagine that she could possibly be comfortable, much less asleep, but for the duration of the time he stood observing her she didn’t move. Her eyes remained closed and he could hear her breathing quietly.
Again caught off guard by how innocent and peaceful Ziva was capable of looking, Aroska continued across the room and peered into the kitchen. To his surprise, he found the dining table neatly set and an assortment of food spread across the kitchen counter. Puzzled, he turned back toward the sofa and found Ziva looking at him, crimson eyes dark in the shadows of the room.
“Feel any better?” she asked. Other than her tilted head, she remained motionless.
The sound of her voice made Aroska’s skin crawl for a reason he couldn’t explain. He nodded, raking his fingers through his tangled hair. “I do, actually,” he replied. “Thanks, I guess.”
Ziva rose fluidly into a sitting position and leaned forward, studying him with her elbows resting on her knees. “Good,” she said, “but you’re not in the clear just yet.”
“You’ve got to be kidding me,” Aroska muttered, hoping she didn’t mean he still wasn’t allowed to eat. His stomach was roaring now and had cramped up to the point that he was afraid he might throw up again.
“One more day,” Ziva explained, waving a single finger. “You can get started early and get to feeling better by tonight. We’ve got a lot of planning to do before tomorrow.”
Oh yes; he had almost forgotten he would be infiltrating HSP on her behalf. At this point he doubted refusal would be an option. His chance for that had been blown the moment he’d spewed his guts all over the table the day before. He doubted, however, that any performance he gave HSP would be convincing with the shape he was currently in – yet another instance of Ziva being right even when her actions seemed so cold and merciless. She had also been accurate when she’d told him the fact that she was asking for help should be reason enough for him to comply. There had been a time when he might have jumped at the opportunity to help her, for no other reason than that she could be such a shouka when it came to cooperating with anyone. At the moment though, he just felt…maybe jaded was the word, though he could think of no reasonable explanation for feeling so.
Aroska watched her watch him for another several seconds before he shifted his eyes down to her folded hands. Despite the fact that her body wasn’t much more than a silhouette against the morning light shining through the tinted window, he was still able to see the white medical tape that bound the index and middle fingers on her left hand. Another bout of regret and embarrassment smacked him in the face.
“I’m sorry I bit you,” he said.
Ziva glanced down at the bandages. “You’ve done worse.”
For a brief moment Aroska found himself standing on the boarding ramp of Ziva’s ship, staring at the mass of burned flesh and clothing that surrounded the hole he’d just blown through her right kneecap. He shook off the memory, not wanting to relive any more of his mistakes than he would have to whenever Ziva forced him to sit down and talk. He had a feeling the time was not far.
“I’m sorry for that, too. Did I ever tell you that?”
“No. Did I ever tell you how I feel about people apologizing to me?”
Aroska chuckled. “No.”
Ziva stood up, face grim, and placed her hands on her hips. “For the price of helping me I thought I would at least make breakfast. Why don’t you eat something? I could hear your stomach from the other end of the house.”
So she had been awake after all. “Ziva, hold on,” Aroska said, stepping to one side to block her entrance into the kitchen. “I’m sorry for the way I was acting yesterday. You were right, that wasn’t me.”
He stopped when Ziva held her hand up for silence. “Did you not hear what I just said?”
“Yes, but I—”
“Made an ass of yourself is what you did.”
He had to smile a little – there she was again, brutally honest but totally accurate. “Yeah.”
“Now go eat something – purging again won’t be any fun, but we need to keep your blood sugar up to control withdrawal symptoms. I’m sure it’s all cold by now, with how long you stayed in bed.”
“Excuse me, but I think you would have been exhausted too after the night I had. I can’t remember the last time I felt that sheyssen.”
“If I had to guess, I’d say it hasn’t been that long judging by all of those empty bottles you had piling up around here. Can you even remember the last time you woke up without a hangover?”
Again Aroska had to admit he felt good, though it killed him to think of drinking any more of Ziva’s concoction. Still, he imagined it would all be worth it later, judging by how rejuvenated he felt after a single round.
He sat down at the table and looked over the different dishes as Ziva set them out, remembering the leftover warco stew he’d tasted during dinner at her house. “Pardon me for not picturing you as a cook,” he said, filling his plate.
Ziva slid in across from him and did the same. “Something constructive to do with my spare time,” she replied. “You’re not the only one who finds it hard to believe. I have to laugh about it myself sometimes.”
“Pardon me for not picturing you laughing, either.”
“Figure of speech,” she retorted, stuffing a bite of food into her mouth.
Aroska stabbed a piece of meat with his fork but hesitated with it in front of his mouth. “Smile,” he said.
“What?”
“Smile.”
Flames might as well have been bursting from Ziva’s eyes. “Why?”
“Because you just look so pissed all the time.”
Ziva glared at him for a moment before shifting her attention back to her plate and taking another bite. “And I usually have good reason to be.”
Aroska snickered and shook his head. Working Ziva over was almost too easy, and her attempts at remaining the hardened spec ops assassin never ceased to entertain him. He’d seen that little shard of a heart she had buried inside of her, perhaps more times than any other living being thanks to his previous experiences with her. The fact that he – or anyone for that matter – could sit and carry on a civilized conversation with her was evidence enough that she wasn’t as bad as she made herself out to be. Aroska had to admire her focus, but the further she locked herself away, the more compelled he felt to fight his way in.
The two of them continued eating in silence, she no doubt contemplating the situation and he respecting her wishes for quiet. It seemed that was what the would-be partnership consisted of: Ziva taking center stage while he followed her lead like a lobotomized guhr hound. He wasn’t so sure he would allow it to stay that way this time around.
Aroska scraped the remaining food from his plate and let his fork clatter to the table, feeling indescribably content. He had to hand it to Ziva – the woman was as talented a chef as she was a killer. He leaned back in his chair an
d placed his hands behind his head, allowing a chuckle to escape his throat. The assassin who had murdered his brother before his eyes had just cooked him breakfast.
Ziva swallowed the last of her own meal and gazed at him quizzically. “I hope you’re not going to irritate me this much for the next few days.”
He was tempted to make a comment about how much pleasure he took in it, but thought better of it. “Is there any being in this galaxy who doesn’t irritate you?”
She ignored him and picked up the empty serving bowls, taking them to the sink. Ziva Payvan, the housekeeper, Aroska thought. She was a peculiar one, she was, and he doubted he would ever fully understand her. That was part of what made her so good at everything she did – nobody was capable of comprehending how her mind worked.
Ziva resumed her position across from him, drilling into him in much the same way as she had during their conversation the day before. “I think it would benefit us both if you just tell me everything right now. I’m in no mood to interrogate you, and I doubt you’d enjoy being interrogated if I’m not in the mood.”
He couldn’t help himself. “Would I enjoy it any more if you were in the mood?”
She stared at him, unblinking.
Aroska brought his arms down and crossed them. “Why is my story so important to you?”
“Because I want to know what caused this—” she extended her hands toward him “—so I can keep it from happening again.”
“And why do you care so much about what happens to me?”
“Damn it, Tarbic! Were you paying attention to a word I said yesterday?”
Aroska blinked. Even if he could have come up with a reply, it would have been cut off by an insistent rap on the front door.
-29-
Tarbic Residence
Noro, Haphez
A hot, prickly sensation surged through Ziva’s nerves, causing every hair on her body to stand on end. She was up and out of her seat, pistol in hand, before the visitor even stopped knocking. Skeet had often told her she reminded him of an animal – tame while in the right company, deadly and vicious when threatened. She certainly felt like an animal now, backed into the corner that was Aroska’s house with little choice but to fight her way out.
Aroska was on his feet as well, though his movements remained slow and calm. The two of them stood with eyes fixed on the door, listening, calculating. The pounding came again, this time louder and more adamant, and it was accompanied by a male voice.
“HSP! Open up!”
In that instant Ziva and Aroska were both at the door, she with her back flat against the wall, arm and pistol extended at a ninety-degree angle to her body. Tarbic stood still for a moment, then mussed up his shaggy hair and rumpled his clothes a bit before hitting the controls.
Ziva held her breath and gripped the gun tighter as the door hissed open. Aroska was a tall man to begin with, and she watched as he lifted his own head to meet the eyes of the agent outside. She caught a whiff of a familiar scent, and her heart immediately leapt into her throat. Even without seeing him, she had a very good idea of who the caller was.
His voice confirmed her suspicion. “Aroska Tarbic?” he demanded.
“Yes?”
“Captain Diago Dasaro, special operations. I’d like to ask you a few questions.”
Crossing his arms, Aroska took up a casual stance with his left shoulder against the doorframe, successfully blocking Dasaro’s view of Ziva if he happened to move too close. “Sure,” he said, adding a respectful dip of his head. “What would you like to know?”
“Lieutenant, I think it would be best if I came inside.”
Ziva took her cue and began to move away from the door, edging along the wall while keeping her pistol trained in Aroska’s direction.
“Is that really necessary?” he asked, buying her just enough time to bolt across the living room on silent feet. She slipped into the kitchen and again pressed her back to the wall, gripping the gun with white knuckles.
“If you don’t willingly let me in, I can have you detained for impeding an ongoing investigation.”
“It’s that serious, huh?” Aroska said. Ziva heard the floor creak as he stepped aside to allow Dasaro’s entry. The door closed behind him.
The desire to simply step in and put a single plasma bolt through the man’s brain was overwhelming. However, if Dasaro had followed protocol in this instance and had brought back-up – which he likely had – she would have at least three other agents to deal with and a firefight in a residential neighborhood wouldn’t exactly be subtle. As much as Ziva hated to sneak around and run from danger rather than just confront the problem, she felt that on this occasion it would be the wiser choice. Fuming, she slowed her breathing and focused on the two men in the other room.
Dasaro coughed briefly against the smoky haze that lingered in the air. “Picked up govino, have you?” he asked, an icy edge to his voice.
“It’s a nasty habit,” Aroska replied.
“Yes, well, that sort of thing happens to someone in your line of work. If that’s what it takes to get close to a target or gain a junkie’s trust and gather intel, then so be it. I would commend you for it.”
“I guess you’ve been doing your research on me,” Aroska said. “So what brings you out here?”
“I understand you once worked closely with Ziva Payvan,” Dasaro answered. “You are aware that she is wanted for murder and is currently at large on the planet?”
Ziva could picture Aroska stroking his chin, deep in thought. “I’ve heard something to that effect,” he said, “but I haven’t followed the story too closely. My viewscreen hasn’t been working and I haven’t been feeling well the last few days.”
If she hadn’t been hiding she would have laughed out loud. The only reason the man could even stand on his own two feet right now was because she had showed up to save the day – in the nick of time, too. She pictured this conversation going on about twenty-four hours earlier and knew Aroska probably would have given her up from a sheer lack of control over his mental faculties.
“Tell me about your relationship with Payvan.”
“I’d never met her until two months ago,” Aroska replied. “Even then, we only worked together for about a week. We managed to drive each other crazy most of the time – you could say we didn’t see eye to eye on a lot of things. That woman ended up saving my life two different times, but when the Dakiti mission was over we parted company. I’ve neither seen nor spoken to her since then.”
Three, Ziva thought. She’d saved him three times, though they’d agreed to call things even. She remembered everything as if it had happened the day before. The Sardons, the hybrid soldiers, Saun….
Her heart skipped a beat when her gaze drifted to the dining table and the two place settings that remained there. A fresh bout of the prickly sensation coursed through her and she shuddered violently, hoping for Aroska’s sake that Dasaro couldn’t see into the kitchen. She held so still it felt as though her blood had stopped pumping. As far as she could tell, Dasaro was on the far side of the room, facing the kitchen. Aroska’s voice was closer, and she knew he was between her and the captain.
Slowly, as if disturbing even the air would alert Dasaro to her presence, Ziva lifted her hand and concentrated as hard as she could on the dish, holding her breath as it began to quiver slightly. It finally rose a few millimeters, suspended in mid-air by only her thoughts, and with a slight flick of her hand she sent it floating away parallel to the table’s surface. She didn’t breathe until the dish was resting on a shelf out of sight.
“Is there any chance Payvan would come here seeking help?” Dasaro was asking.
“It’s unlikely,” Aroska responded after a thoughtful moment and a short grunt. “I think if she was going to come, she would have already. Besides, she never struck me as the type who would put her trust in someone she knew for a week. We may have gotten the job done together once, but it’s been a while now and a lot has happened since th
en.” He was silent for several seconds. “You’re certain she’s still on the planet?”
“We’ve had an airtight blockade in place since the night of the assassination,” Dasaro answered. “No ship can even leave the system without being searched inside and out. It’s not the most efficient method for netting Payvan, and it’s wreaking havoc on the trade industry, but keeping her trapped on the ground is better than having her running loose somewhere out in the galaxy.”
Ziva expected as much. She’d spent most of the night lying awake formulating several tentative plans, all of which depended almost wholly on whether Aroska could gain Dasaro’s trust and secure an advantageous position within HSP. Having to depend entirely on someone else sickened her, but if Dasaro’s blockade was as strong as he claimed it was, it would be virtually impossible for her to get away on her own.
“If you’re in need of an extra gun, I’d be glad to assist in the search,” Aroska offered. “I could provide insight, though a limited amount. I’m sure you’re aware that Payvan killed my brother, and I’d be more than happy to finally see her brought to justice.”
Ziva’s skin crawled as she waited for Dasaro’s response. Aroska’s offer had been too quick – he should have waited until the end of the conversation. Surely the captain would grow suspicious now and all of her plans would be wasted. But perhaps she was jumping to conclusions. Again, she held her breath until he spoke.
“I would be much obliged, Lieutenant. I could use a man with your knowledge and skills.”