by EJ Fisch
Ziva could now see that the blue columns were in fact narrow, cylindrical tanks positioned about a meter apart, each of which held a limp, motionless body suspended in clear fluid. They all looked slightly different; some appeared to be identical to the soldiers in the assembly area, while others were deformed like the Haphezian captain. Each wore gender-appropriate coverings and a mask over their mouth and nose that connected to a tube running up from the base of the tank.
The hall stretched into the darkness further than Ziva could see from where she stood. The tanks lined the wall on either side until they faded into an undefined blue line. The floor beneath them slanted down into a trough in the center where a long drain ran the length of the room.
Satisfied that nobody seemed to be nearby, Ziva stopped to take a closer look at each body. Some were more – immature was the first word that came to mind – than others, with oversized heads and short arms and legs. Some had underdeveloped skin through which a tangle of nerves and blood vessels could be seen. Several of the tanks had even been turned off; their occupants were slumped grotesquely against the inside of the glass. These were severely deformed, perhaps the reason for their abortion. One had an extra leg. One had no legs at all. Ziva grimaced – the man in front of her at the moment had two heads.
She heard voices approaching and ducked behind the deactivated tank just as a group of medical staff strolled through the double doors from which she had come. They all appeared to be pure Sardon, with the exception of one. The hybrid – the only thing that made sense to call it – stood a head taller than the others and pushed a gurney that hovered above the ground.
Ziva watched from the shadows as the five of them stopped in front of one of the tanks she had passed and began going over the readings on the control panel. One of the men deactivated the tank and held out his hand to receive a tool from his associate.
“We want to get her up to one of the operating rooms, stat,” he said. Ziva recognized him as the doctor she had passed just before coming in. “We’re supposed to prep her for surgery but Bothum says to wait until he gives the word to operate.”
The physician took the tool and loosened something at the base of the tank. A steady stream of fluid shot from a previously unseen tube and splattered onto the floor where it flowed down the slanted surface and disappeared into the drain. The woman inside slowly crumpled into a heap at the bottom of the tank as the liquid drained out.
Satisfied that the last of the fluid had drained, the doctor played with the controls and the front panel of the tank hissed open as the airlock released. Two of the technicians stepped forward to catch the body as it fell forward. The leader tenderly held the back of her head as they moved her over and carefully laid her out on the gurney. Ziva leaned as close as she could without being spotted – if she wasn’t mistaken, the woman they’d just removed from the tank was Saun Zaid.
“Tarbic,” she whispered, one finger to her earpiece. “I think I found your friend.”
No response.
“Tarbic!”
“Let’s get her breathing on her own,” the doctor was saying as he carefully removed the mask and tubing from her face. The hybrid handed him a manual resuscitator, which he promptly placed over her mouth and nose and began pumping. “Come on, sweetheart.” He tried a few chest compressions and continued. “Breathe!”
Ziva could hear the air rush into the woman’s lungs even from her hiding spot. She began to weakly move her arms about, though her eyes were still closed. Her skin was wrinkled and pale from being submerged for such a long period, and her whole body was sickeningly thin.
“There we go, that’s a good girl,” the doctor praised. “Now that, gentlemen, is the sound of the healthiest set of lungs on this side of the galaxy. Let’s move her and get her covered before her temperature drops.”
Ziva looked up when the doors opened again, as did the others. A squad of guards – mismatched species in mismatched attire – stormed through and immediately began to spread out and search the room. Ziva peered as far as she could see in the other direction. There didn’t appear to be other way out.
“Is anyone else in here?” a guard barked at the startled group of techs.
“Not to my knowledge,” the head doctor stammered. “We’re trying to move a patient here so if you don’t mind…”
The guard grudgingly stepped aside and turned to his colleagues. “She’s in here somewhere. Station 64 said she was headed this way.”
So the nurses had caught on to her. Ziva shrank back as far as she could against the wall. At this point, escape wasn’t an option, but neither was killing the guards and leaving a mess that would alert the entire facility to her presence. The thought occurred to her that, if she played her cards right, allowing herself to be captured would most likely get her closer to where she needed to go, especially if her cover had been compromised.
Sighing because she knew what she had to do and also because she didn’t want to do it, Ziva stepped out from her hiding spot and made a beeline for the tanks against the opposite wall. This drew surprised shouts from her pursuers, who rushed toward her with weapons raised.
Ziva let her rifle clatter to the floor and held up her hands. “Morning, gents,” she spoke in Sardon. “Just passing through. Don’t mind me.”
They weren’t impressed. One of them slapped a pair of cuffs over her wrists and two others held her arms. The next thing Ziva knew, she had a hood over her head and was being led out of the room.
-42-
Holding room
Dakiti Medical Research Center
Sardonis
At first the scraping sound was only in Jayden’s dream. He was back in the clearing, standing motionless in the heart of the battle between his people and the Haphezian insurgents. He realized that although he was being pelted with plasma bolts, he felt no pain and could only stare straight ahead. The shuttle, the same one that had taken his father, had touched down in the clearing, only now he was seeing Ziva being dragged up the boarding ramp rather than the governor. Her face was nearly unrecognizable due to the blood and mud that was splattered on it. Her boots were scraping against the metal as the ship swallowed her and she disappeared from sight.
Jayden tried to cry out, to go to her, but his feet were like lead and anchored him hopelessly to the ground. He began looking wildly about for Aroska, Gavin Bront, anyone who could save him. To his horror, all the Tantalis who had been with him had already been struck down, their faces bloodied in the same manner as Ziva’s. The Solaris attackers were closing in on him, towering over him and increasing in number as they grew closer. A leathery, salty arm grabbed him from behind, but when he turned to face his assailant he found the Haphezian woman who had been with Bothum. Her fuchsia eyes had been replaced with wide yellow Sardon eyes.
“Don’t worry Jayden. I’m coming for you,” she said.
Through her voice he heard the scraping again, but now it jarred him awake. Well, maybe not awake. His head was hanging down at an awkward angle, causing a crick in his neck and upper back. His eyelids wouldn’t budge from their closed position, so he rerouted all his energy to his ears. The scraping was somewhere above and behind him, not coming from the floor above but from within the ceiling. It was moving.
“Jayden?”
The voice from the dream! This was certainly not the fuchsia-eyed Haphezian woman. Jayden held completely still.
The scraping was no longer moving, but was hovering over one particular place and was accompanied by another sound. Something metal was being loosened. The grill from a ventilation shaft? He could tell the exact moment that it separated from the ceiling.
Soft material rubbed against metal. A pair of boots gently hit the floor. Jayden could almost hear the stealth and skill of the individual as the soft footsteps came up behind him. He finally managed to raise his head.
“Shhh,” the person whispered as gentle hands began to work at loosening the clasps on his wrists.
Jayden obeyed,
not feeling at all threatened by this visitor. He forced his eyes open just long enough to catch a glimpse of a black head with cerulean highlights passing in front of him as the person began freeing his feet.
“Officer Vax?”
“Shhh,” she said again. “We’re getting you out of here.”
“How did you find me?” Jayden summoned all of his strength and stood up, but the blood immediately drained from his head and his knees gave out.
Zinni caught him under the arms and stood him back up on his feet. “Slow down there, kid.” She left him teetering for a moment and bent down to pick something up from the floor. “We were tracking you with this. Not to mention this was the only locked door in this hallway. And—” she chuckled and tapped her nose “we picked up your scent once we got closer.”
Jayden could hardly see the tiny transmitter on her fingertip. He shook his head and tried to rub some of the spots out of his eyes. Zinni was dressed in some sort of tactical jumpsuit and was covered in a fine layer of dust. He turned and looked up at the vent through which she had come. “Do you know how long I’ve been under?”
“No idea. Do you remember anything that might be of use to us?”
“Bothum was in here questioning me about whether or not you people were going to show up,” he replied. “There was a woman, too. She was definitely Haphezian, with pink eyes.”
Zinni stopped cold. “Fuchsia?”
“You could call it that, yes.”
“That’s Saun!” she exclaimed. “Was she okay? Did he take her somewhere?”
“You don’t understand. She was with him. She’s Solaris. She’s the one who put me out.”
Zinni wiped her hand across her mouth and muttered something that sounded like a Haphezian curse. “Okay. We’ve got to get out of here.” She went to the door and put her ear up to it, then manipulated the controls to unlock it. When it opened, they found Skeet waiting outside, looking quite antsy. There was another open vent above him where it appeared he had lifted Zinni into the duct. Skeet handed Zinni her rifle and fell into stride with them as they turned and hurried down the hall.
“Where’s Ziva?” Jayden asked, suddenly flashing back to his dream as he stumbled along in an attempt to keep up with their long strides.
“She and Tarbic split up to look for your father and a captive HSP agent,” Skeet replied. “We’re going to the rendezvous now.”
“About that,” Zinni said. “If Mr. Saiffe here is right, Saun Zaid is no captive agent. She’s working closely with Bothum, if not his right-hand-man.”
Skeet groaned. “You sure, kid?”
“Positive.” He pulled his shirt collar aside to show them the puncture from the large syringe. “She knocked me out. I told you!”
They stopped where two hallways intersected and Zinni checked the screen on a small handheld device she was carrying. “Do you know where your people are being held?” she asked, leading them to the left.
“They’re not. They’re all dead, wiped out the second we got here.”
“Oh.”
“That’s all you have to say? ‘Oh’?”
“I’m sorry for your loss, but that does make our job a little easier,” Skeet said.
Jayden wanted to protest about the way they were treating him but thought better of it. He had wanted a second chance. Now he had it, and this time there wouldn’t be anyone else to save him if he blew it. It seemed now that they needed his help just as much as he needed theirs. Perhaps it was time for him to redeem himself.
Skeet and Zinni were speaking quickly and quietly to each other in Haphezian, discussing the situation. Jayden couldn’t catch everything but thought he heard something about “cover being blown” and “being in trouble.” Their tones were both abrupt and their bodies were rigid as they walked.
“Give me a weapon,” Jayden instructed, unsure whether his request was even relevant to the conversation. “I’m good with a gun. I can help.”
Zinni was hesitant, but when she locked her eyes with his, she saw he was serious. She quickly removed a tiny sub-compact pistol from the side of her boot and handed it to him. “Ziva, we’ve got Jayden and we’re heading to the rendezvous,” she said into her comm unit. “The other Tantalis are no longer a factor.”
Skeet was listening in through his own earpiece. “Copy that, Z?”
All that could be heard for the next few moments was the soft sound of their boots on the tile floor. “I’ve got nothing,” Zinni said, the anxiety apparent in her voice.
“That Haphezian woman, Saun, she wanted to just kill me,” Jayden explained, “but Bothum told her that nobody was going to die until Ziva and Aroska got here. They wanted you people to come, and they were ready for you.”
Jayden had admired Skeet and Zinni’s abilities to remain focused so far despite the barrage of bad news, but this information stopped them dead in their tracks. For several seconds that felt like an eternity, they just stood, listening, their faces distant. Jayden, feeling nearly as on-edge as they were, glanced back and forth down the hall, waiting to hear the shouts of surprised guards who had discovered he was missing.
Heaving an unsteady sigh, Zinni turned to Skeet. “Your orders, Sergeant?”
Skeet only hesitated for a moment before he took hold of Jayden’s arm with a large gloved hand and began walking again. “We carry on,” he replied, though he sounded uncertain. “If they’ve been captured, they will find a way out and they’ll want us to stick to the plan. If we go in after them, we risk losing Jayden again.”
Zinni uttered another doubtful sigh and studied her tiny screen again. “We’re almost to the sewer hatch. The trick is to get there without running into any trouble.”
No sooner were the words out of her mouth than a squadron of Sardon guards appeared out of one of the corridors ahead. They didn’t seem to pay the group any mind, at least until they noticed Jayden. However, rather than charge at them with rifles ablaze, one broke off from the group and approached them warily. “Where are you taking him?” he asked, waving his gun at them.
Skeet maintained a firm grip on Jayden, who instinctively held his hands behind his back as if bound. “Bothum wanted him moved before HSP could find him,” he replied gruffly. “Just our luck, they’ll catch up to us while you’ve got us held up here.”
The man eyed them suspiciously, but held up a data pad. “You seen her?” he asked, indicating the grainy photo of Ziva on the screen. “There’s word that she’s here but nobody’s been able to find her. She was posing as one of us.”
“If we do see her, we’ll report it immediately,” Zinni answered.
“Good. Now if you don’t mind, we’ll handle things from here.” He reached out to grab Jayden.
“Be my guest,” Skeet said quietly.
Jayden took a hesitant step forward and fingered the tiny pistol that was tucked into his pants at the small of his back. Five soldiers versus himself and two well-armed, unhappy Haphezian operatives – the odds of winning this fight seemed to be very good, even if he somehow screwed up.
The instant the man touched his shoulder, Jayden whipped the little gun out in front of him and fired a well-placed round into his throat. With a war-like shout, he swung his elbow around, cracking the Sardon’s jaw and sending him to the floor for good. Skeet and Zinni’s suppressed rifles discharged behind him and bullets whizzed past his head on either side, dropping the other four guards in a matter of seconds.
Before the last of them had even settled to the ground, Skeet was down on one knee, gathering their communicators and hurling them as hard as he could back in the direction from which they had come. Zinni joined him in collecting as many of their fallen weapons as they could carry and the next thing Jayden knew they were running.
“It won’t take long for someone to find those guys,” Skeet panted. “We need to be long gone by then.”
-43-
Military prison cell
Dakiti Medical Research Center
Sardonis
Her captors had stripped her of her flight suit and weapons, leaving her with only her boots and the lightweight clothing she’d worn underneath. The wall against her back was cold and slimy and the moisture soaked through her shirt, making her shiver. The dampness of the room told her she was still underground, but it was difficult to tell where – the Sardons had led her on a strenuous detour that could have put her on the opposite end of the compound. All she’d been able to see through the hood were shadows.
Judging by her distance from the door, Ziva guessed the room was maybe three meters wide but she couldn’t see into the darkness to tell how long it was. There were two or three centimeters of standing water on the floor that splashed and rippled when she moved her feet. It was dripping from somewhere.
The room smelled worse than anything Ziva could remember smelling. It was a mixture of cha’sen – maybe a little of her own, she couldn’t tell – and rotting flesh. She wondered how many prisoners had died in the very position she was in now. Out of curiosity, she yanked at the clasps. They were firmly fixed into the stone with long bolts, immovable.
The light coming in shone straight into her eyes and she blinked against it. Anyone who looked in would be able to see her and only her. She looked down at the water. There was a dim reflection there, and she could see the rippling rings in the light.