Ronan: Ziva Payvan Book 3
Read Ronan: Ziva Payvan Book 3 Online
Authors: EJ Fisch
Copyright © 2015 E.J. Fisch
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without the prior written permission of the author or publisher, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical reviews and certain other noncommercial uses permitted by copyright law.
Publisher’s note: This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are a product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual people, living or dead, or to businesses, companies, events, institutions, or locales is completely coincidental.
Cover art by T.E. Thompson
The Transcendence Publishing name, imprint, and logo are trademarks of Transcendence Publishing.
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…to Tanni, once again, for sticking with me over the past couple of years and being such a wonderful critique partner. You’ve sacrificed a lot of your free time and I thank you for that.
…to the rest of my awesome beta readers: Lauren, Kegan, Marian, Brandy, and of course, my mom. Fresh sets of eyes and open minds are invaluable when it comes to getting the job done.
…to every single person out there who has supported me and taken the time to read these books. Hearing from you and getting to interact with you makes this whole experience worth it.
Table of Contents
-6-
4 Weeks Ago
,
Warehouse District
-22-
Meanwhile…
Patrol Frigate
Vigilance
-23-
Palace of the Royal General
-27-
Galactic Federation Martial Command
-36-
Durutian Scout Ship
Deonida
-43-
Govino Distribution Center
-49-
River District Medical Center
-50-
Noro Intragalactic Spaceport
-55-
Resistance Battlecruiser
Marauder
-57-
Durutian Scout Ship
Deonida
-58-
Resistance Battlecruiser
Marauder
The sudden cloud of smoke was certainly unexpected. The only reasonable reaction was to shield her face and duck away. It was already pitch dark inside the warehouse, but the billowing black cloud rendered her night optics completely useless. She tore the headgear off and stumbled back the way she had come, coughing and sputtering. The thought occurred to her that retreating was the
last
thing she should have done just as rough hands seized her by the arms and dragged her to the floor.
If this was a trap – and that seemed to be the case – she’d fallen directly into it. Her first instinct was to yell, to shout out her location. She only got about half a sentence off before a gloved hand clamped down over her mouth and her earpiece was ripped away. As far as she could tell, there were three assailants: one restraining her legs, one pinning her shoulders down and covering her mouth, and a third holding her left arm and fiddling with her sleeve.
She wasn’t sure where her rifle was – it had been torn from her hands just before she’d hit the floor. She continued to make as much noise as possible with the hand over her mouth and even went so far as to bite down on the fingers. Before her teeth broke skin, however, she felt a powerful pinch followed by a stinging sensation just below her left elbow. The last thing she remembered was hearing a hushed voice ordering someone to carry her away. Then the darkness swallowed her whole.
From the surface of Na, the world of Haphez – though a mere twenty thousand kilometers away – was hardly more than a gray arc stretching across the moon’s pale yellow sky. It looked almost white today thanks to the sunlight beating down on the silver buildings that made up Na’s sprawling military base. The light bounced off the flat surfaces and created a blinding glow that reached all the way to the moon’s horizon. Ships of all shapes and sizes appeared out of the haze, transporting supplies and soldiers to and from the mother planet. One vessel in particular, a brand new shuttle bearing the Royal Officer’s insignia, touched down in a grassy training area near the center of the compound.
A pane of thick glass reinforced with electrified wire separated Ziva Payvan from the view outside. Being in this room always made her feel like a prisoner, and in a sense that’s exactly what she was. “In custody” was the technical term, though she’d had free rein of the entire rehab facility nearly every day for the duration of her stay. Today, however, was different. Going anywhere or doing anything was out of the question, lest she get into trouble somehow. She couldn’t fathom what could possibly go wrong – all the more reason to stay put and not find out. She wasn’t known for being so overly cautious. It made her entirely uncomfortable, in fact. But today, unless she actually
wanted
to be a prisoner, each and every rule had to be followed. She needed to have a clean slate.
She drummed her fingers thoughtfully against the glass, watching as several well-dressed figures emerged from the shuttle and entered the nearest building. They were there for her, of course, and she was ready for them. She’d even opted out of breakfast in favor of remaining in her room to prepare, both mentally and physically. She’d done her best to make herself as presentable as possible, despite the fact that the rehab center’s simple white inpatient garments weren’t much to look at. Not a single strand of her black and red-streaked hair was out of place. It had been a long time since she’d felt the need to make so much fuss about her appearance.
Ziva sighed. “It’s time,” she said, partially to herself and partially to whoever had just come up to stand in the doorway behind her.
It was Doctor Anson Baez, just as she had expected. He maintained a respectful distance, looking sharp in his formal military uniform that almost seemed incomplete without the white lab coat he constantly wore over it. He was flanked by two armed soldiers, one of whom held a pair of handcuffs.
That
she hadn’t expected.
“You’ve got to be kidding me,” Ziva said, warily eyeing the cuffs.
“It’s just a formality,” Baez replied as the MP approached and gently fitted the bracelets over her wrists. It was the same thing he’d told her when she’d awakened in the HSP med center chained to her bed. “This will all be over soon enough. I don’t think it will hurt any of us to follow protocol for a couple more hours. We’ve come this far – wouldn’t want to drop the ball now, would we?”
Ziva stole another look out the window. Her homeworld had all but disappeared in the bright haze. “No, we wouldn’t,” she muttered.
Baez placed a hand on her shoulder. “Hang in there just a little longer. Has anyone explained to you how this is going to work?”
She shook her head.
“This will be a little different than your average post-grace-period hearing. It’ll be more of a public interrogation than anything. If everything runs smoothly and you go with the flow, there’s no reason why you shouldn’t be walking out of here this afternoon. They’ll question you about what took place on Chaiavis just to make sure your story lines up with the evidence, then that evidence will be presented to the public and the magistrates will announce their decision. I’ll be there to represent you.”
Ziva lifted an eyebrow. “So you’re my surgeon, my rehab specialist,
and
my lawyer?”
Baez laughed. “I’m not quite that talented,” he said. “A public defender has been assigned to you just to keep the magistrates on track. I’m prepared to give my professional testimony regarding your injuries and recovery just in case you need a boost.”
“You think I’ll need one?” Everyone at the Na Facility had been optimistic about her hearing since she’d still been bedridden. But regardless of their encouraging words, Ziva was dreading the idea of going before the magistrates. She’d killed Nejdra Venn, a fellow HSP agent – a
superior
– in cold blood. It hadn’t been self-defense, and it hadn’t been a sanctioned hit. It had been murder for the sake of toying with someone, something she had not done for a long time. Venn had of course been guilty, but there was no concrete evidence that actually
proved
she’d been involved in the planned genocide of the residents of Argall. At least Ziva was no longer being held responsible for assassinating the former Royal Officer, Ikaro Tachi. Even so, the false evidence brought up against her on that front had been convincing, and for a while everyone had believed wholeheartedly that she had committed the murder. All the more reason to dread going before judges sent by the current
Royal Officer.
Baez gave her the impression he could sense her apprehension. “I think everything will be just fine.”
That didn’t answer her question. She wondered if he’d already been made privy to the magistrates’ verdict. Because of the nature of her alleged crimes, she had been denied most of the privileges the facility’s patients usually received. She may have been free to move about the compound, but for ten weeks all information about the investigation had been withheld from her – in case she really was guilty, of course – and she hadn’t been allowed to contact anyone back home on Haphez. It was quite possible that everyone knew her fate but her. The idea brought her minimal comfort.
Ziva sighed. “Let’s get this over with, then.”
The two MPs positioned themselves on either side of her, sending her apologetic glances as they took hold of her arms. They led her out the door, keeping her about half a pace in front of them. Baez took the lead.
If everything went according to plan, this was one of the last times she would walk this hallway. All the rooms in this corridor belonged to patients who, like her, had been granted full autonomy in their final days of recovery. This was the third room she’d been in since being admitted to the rehab facility, having been moved to a different wing for each stage of treatment. She was currently the only HSP agent there, but she’d gone through the ten-week session with a few Grand Army soldiers who had been injured in an explosion around the same time she’d been shot. They stood in the doorways of their own rooms now, watching in respectful silence as she moved down the hallway.
The rehab center was currently at less than half capacity. Admission was a rare enough privilege that there were only fifty rooms available in the first place. The doctor-to-patient ratio certainly made for an efficient recovery process, though Ziva had often wished she could be more anonymous. With a job that usually required her to be invisible, it was hard to get used to everyone knowing who she was. For eight of the ten weeks she’d been there, she’d had a supervisor hovering over her, checking her vitals constantly, monitoring her workout sessions. It hadn’t been so bad at first, back when it hurt to move and she’d needed caura treatments every day. But the stronger she got, the more irritating it had been to always have someone breathing down her neck. It was good that it had been Baez the majority of the time. She liked him well enough, and he’d been more willing to let her bend the rules a bit.
She was marched out the door of the rehab center and across the grass to the building where the shuttle had touched down. Armed guards from the Royal Offices eyed her warily from the boarding ramp as she passed the ship, but there was hardly time to worry about them as she arrived at her destination. The massive doors of the GA’s court slid open before she could even draw a breath. This was it; she held her head high and straightened her shoulders as best she could, pushing her feelings to the back of her mind. She wasn’t quite sure
what
she felt, but one thing was for sure – right now, it needed to be nothing.
The courtroom was tiny compared to the big public courts on Haphez, but the layout was exactly the same. A center aisle divided the room into two halves, one for the defense and one for the prosecution. It appeared that all the people seated in the observation area were base officials or reps from the Royal House. At the front of the room, six desks were set up on risers, two on each of the three levels. Anyone sitting in the top row would have to be careful not to hit their head on the ceiling.
The escort guided Ziva to the defendant’s area on the left. A long platform bordered by a metal railing stretched the length of the room; she climbed a couple of steps and walked the remaining distance on her own, elevated nearly a meter above the two MPs as they moved along on either side. She didn’t dare look around – it would only showcase her nervousness. She tried to search the little crowd with her peripherals, looking for signs of her team or any other familiar faces. Maybe the communication rule still applied and they hadn’t been allowed to come, though it seemed unlikely.
She took her place at the front of the platform, feeling small with those risers looming in front of her, and watched as Baez slid into a seat at a table just below her. He leaned over and said something inaudible to the man beside him, presumably her public defender. The man’s thin white hair was streaked with blue and his countenance was etched with deep creases. He sat there reading over a data pad without even acknowledging her. She already didn’t like him.
A door hissed open somewhere behind the risers and a man’s voice rang out: “All rise!”
There was a dull shuffling throughout the room as everyone got to their feet. Ziva watched as the six magistrates emerged from their private chambers and made their way around to the front. Nobody made a sound while they slowly filed into their seats. Unsure where to look, Ziva resorted to meeting each of their gazes individually as they passed, challenging them a bit. She sighed and folded her hands in front of her.
Don’t feel.
Everyone remained completely silent until the magistrates were seated. The Grand Magistrate, denoted by his seat in the front row and the yellow sash over his shoulder, lifted his hands and motioned for all the onlookers to take their seats as well. Elevated above everyone else, Ziva stuck out like a sore thumb as she remained standing.
The Grand Magistrate, the only one of the six who would actually speak during the hearing, cleared his throat. “I am calling the case of the People versus Ziva Payvan. Is the defense ready?”
Such formal proceedings seemed strange considering there was no official prosecution. The fact that there wasn’t one confirmed that her fate had already been decided. After all, they’d had over two months to examine the evidence. Everyone already knew what had happened on Chaiavis – they just needed multiple witnesses to hear her testimony. She wasn’t entirely sure what this “evidence” they’d found consisted of, and not knowing whether her word would back it up made her nervous. “
Go with the flow
,” Baez had said. What exactly did that mean?
“Ready, Your Honors,” the public defender replied.
“And is your client ready?”
“Ready,” Ziva said before the man could respond.
“Lieutenant Payvan, after an examination of the evidence brought forward, this court holds you responsible for the unjustified murder of a fellow HSP agent, Captain Nejdra Venn. How do you plead?”
The wheels spun in her head for a moment. She thought she could sense Baez looking back at her, but she didn’t dare break eye contact with the magistrate. “Guilty, Your Honor. I killed Captain Venn.”
“The forensic examination of the projectile that killed her was inconclusive, but we do know the bullet was partially composed of bariine. A rifle was recovered from the ship aboard which you returned to Haphez after the shooting. What can you tell me about this weapon?”
On cue, a soldier appeared pushing a small platform that hovered on repulsors. A battered projectile rifle was mounted on it, and Ziva recognized it immediately.
“This is the gun I used to kill Venn,” she said, drawing murmurs from the observers behind her.
The judge shook his head and examined the rifle. “This isn’t an HSP weapon.”
“No, sir,” Ziva replied. “All of my weapons were confiscated by the agency when I was taken into custody. This is a Korberos rifle I purchased and modified while on Chaiavis.”
“Further investigations revealed that you took the shot from nearly a kilometer away. You’re saying you were able to make a successful headshot from that distance with an antique rifle?”
Ziva shrugged, fighting away a smirk. “I’m good at what I do.”
The magistrate eyed her thoughtfully from behind the hologram projected on the visor he wore. “Lieutenant, you and your team specialize in, shall we say…
permanently neutralizing
threats. Is that correct?”
“Correct.”
“Records would indicate that you are
indeed
very good at what you do. Tell me, would you say HSP considers your ability to kill your greatest asset?”
Ziva tilted her head, wondering why her defender hadn’t spoken up. “I’m not sure how that’s relevant to the—”