Ronan: Ziva Payvan Book 3 (35 page)

Ziva finally released the data pad and turned away, taking several seconds to observe Zinni before heaving a sigh. “The GA has given the crew of the
Vigilance
several opportunities to surrender and come out,” she said. “They just received their final warning. If they don’t surrender within another hour, we’ll take action.”

“What’s the plan?” Aroska ventured, giving up on changing the subject.

“Gas,” she replied, her voice low and monotone.

The look in her eyes was the same one he’d seen the first day they’d met in Emeri’s office: a horrible, vicious, and unwavering stare that told him her thoughts consisted of nothing but malice. He could tell it wasn’t directed at him this time around, but it was disconcerting all the same.

“We’ll beat them at their own game,” she continued. “The agency is hoping to flush some of them out, maybe take a few into custody for interrogation. If you ask me, we should make sure they
can’t
get out. The fewer survivors, the fewer potential Nosti we’ll have to deal with. Besides, you saw those guys in the warehouse; they were ready to shoot themselves to avoid capture. We’re not going to get anything out of these people. We’ve already got the prisoners from Salex, and they’ll have to be enough.”

Part of Aroska wanted to chastise her for her apparent eagerness to take so many lives. A ship the size of the
Vigilance
probably supported a crew of nearly two hundred. But another part of him agreed wholeheartedly. If even half of these Resistance soldiers were Nosti, he wasn’t sure how well the Haphezian forces would hold up against them. Perhaps, in a way, it would be their own fault if they died. When the gas was released into the ship, they’d still have a chance to get out. If they chose to stay inside and die so that any secrets died with them, that was perfectly fine with him.

“Where are you headed?” he asked.

That hateful look in Ziva’s eyes morphed into one of simple frustration. “Emeri doesn’t want me down by the wreck at all, so I’m joining up with one of the sniper units they’ve got watching the ship. Skeet’s tagging along with the ground teams even though the GA is running point.
Someone’s
got to watch his back.” She turned and resumed her journey toward the door.

Aroska wasn’t sure if that had been some sort of irrational jab at the fact that both he and Zinni were still incapacitated or a mere observation. Given her level of impatience, he wouldn’t have put the former past her, but he dismissed it as the latter and watched her go. “Be careful.”

She waved her hand – either an acknowledgement or an irritated dismissal of his warning – without looking back and disappeared in the hustle and bustle of the corridor.

He stared at the empty doorway for several more seconds before glancing at Zinni again and lowering himself back into the chair. There he sat for the remainder of the morning, watching the activity over at HSP and doing everything in his power to keep his own thoughts from eating him alive.

-48-

HSP Headquarters

Noro, Haphez

An hour had passed. Skeet could feel the soldiers around him tense up the moment the countdown reached zero. He reestablished his grip on his assault rifle and watched as everyone else did the same. He doubted there was really any point; the
Vigilance’s
crew wasn’t coming out. It was probably for the best. Like Ziva, he wasn’t sure how well he and the rest of the soldiers would hold up if most or all of the crew turned out to be Nosti, even if numbers were on their side.

He looked up to observe the approach of another GA ship and saw the sun reflect off the scope of a sniper rifle on one of the nearby rooftops. He wasn’t sure where Ziva had been positioned, but just knowing she was up there somewhere brought him indescribable comfort. In the event that the Resistance fighters did emerge and put up a fight, the sniper units would likely be able to dispatch them with little trouble.

The ship that had just arrived was designed for in-atmo combat and, as such, had guns outfitted for both plasma and massive, armor-piercing projectiles. According to the GA, the plan was to arm several of those projectiles with large gas canisters rather than incendiary or explosive devices and fire them at key points in the
Vigilance’s
hull. With the ship’s defenses offline, they should have no trouble penetrating and would be capable of affecting a much higher number of people than any handheld devices. Skeet had to admit the use of gas was a little barbaric, but so was everything the Resistance had done to them. Entering the ship simply wasn’t an option unless they wanted to be picked off one by one. Forcing the crew out was the only way to go; they could either come out and risk capture or stay inside and die. The choice would be theirs.

“Pull back!” someone ordered.

Skeet turned to locate the speaker and saw Sergeant Anden Fay moving toward him. He vaguely remembered meeting the man when he and Zinni had emerged from Dakiti’s sewers with Jayden Saiffe and Jole Imetsi in tow. Fay’s title had been Sergeant Major back then, if he recalled; the demotion must have been a result of the court martial Ziva had mentioned when she’d told them about meeting Kevyn Sheen on Na. Fay was overseeing the small group of soldiers Skeet had fallen in with, and he was glad to see a familiar face when there were so many unknown factors at play.

He and the other soldiers complied, retreating back several paces while the GA ship settled into position overhead. Similar clusters of troops did the same elsewhere in the vicinity, giving the
Vigilance
a wide berth but keeping their perimeter intact. There was a brief silence while one last warning was given to the Resistance crew. As before, it fell on deaf ears, and the destroyer opened fire.

Over the course of the next few minutes, the ship drifted in a slow circle around the
Vigilance
, firing the heavy projectiles into the Resistance vessel’s hull at several points the GA had identified as being vulnerable. There was no way to know where the crew was or now many people were inside – any infrared scans had been blocked by the heat shielding built into the ship’s armor – but they’d managed to pick out five different locations predicted to result in maximum gas dispersal. Chances were it wouldn’t affect every single person and any entry teams might still have to put up a fight, but the odds had certainly tipped in their favor.

The final projectile tore into the
Vigilance
as if the ship were made of cloth. Every soldier fell silent, eyes peeled for any sign of movement. There were two large airlock doors, one on either side of the ship, as well as a number of small openings that had once housed escape pods. According to Fay, they had been jettisoned elsewhere in the city and troops had been dispatched to investigate them. Skeet had a feeling they wouldn’t find anything of use. Nobody would survive an escape pod ejection at such a low altitude; they were likely decoys, possibly even used intentionally as weapons. He only hoped nobody had been able to crawl out through the empty bays, which had been conveniently hidden behind a thick cloud of smoke for at least twenty minutes following the crash.

Several minutes passed and nothing happened. The gas was supposed to be fast-acting, slower than the gaseous nostium that had been used against the Royal General but quick enough to kill anyone who didn’t immediately escape exposure. In the event that the gas was utilized, they’d been ordered to wait ten minutes before entering the ship. Some of the soldiers were already putting on their gas masks.

The small demolitions unit moved forward and climbed a makeshift ramp up to the airlock. They positioned their charges around the door and stepped back to wait. There was another palpable shift in the crowd of soldiers as the ten-minute countdown came to an end. The unbearable silence was shattered as the charges detonated and the airlock door blew inward.

Skeet could feel beads of perspiration forming on his forehead as he waited for something – anything – to happen. The demolitions crew cleared out quickly, making room for the first entry team to take position at the base of the ramp. A thin cloud of smoke and residual gas drifted out the airlock, dispersing in the crisp mid-morning air.

There
. A glint. Something metallic reflecting the light. A figure approaching through the haze. The view of the woman became clear after a moment. She staggered out, coughing and sputtering, her skin a sickly pale green. It appeared as though she was struggling to even remain upright. She was dressed in lightweight but functional black armor, and whatever metallic object she’d been carrying had vanished, replaced with a narrow black bar about the length of her forearm. She held it up as though signaling surrender and allowed the soldiers to approach, doing her best to lower herself to her knees when they ordered her to do so.

Everything after that happened so fast that Skeet didn’t even process it all until a few seconds later. The woman had still been holding the bar and she’d jerked her arm in a strange fashion, though the significance of the act hadn’t registered with him at the time. Then the discharge of a plasma rifle echoed through the air and the woman crumpled to the ground with a smoldering hole through her chest. Skeet’s first thought had been that overwatch was getting just as trigger-happy as the troops on the ground, but then he noticed the long silver blades now protruding from either end of the black bar. The only shooter who would have been able to discern the woman’s true intentions, he knew, was Ziva. He risked a peek over his shoulder, tracing the plasma bolt’s trajectory with his eyes, and could make out several figures perched on one of the spec ops building’s landing platforms. He wanted to offer Ziva a salute but figured she wouldn’t notice with her focus on her scope. Fay’s voice distracted him anyway.

“Bastards. I’d hoped we could take some of them alive, even after the gas. But not if they’re all going to pull
sheyss
like that.”

At the moment, Skeet welcomed the idea of no survivors. There were already too many Nosti at HSP Headquarters, none of whom were any more willing to talk than the others. And up until this morning, the Grand Army had been busy prepping for a full-scale assault on Forus. Several recon ships were already on their way there. There was no point in capturing any more of these people.

“New orders from Officer Ganten,” Fay said, turning to address their little group as he listened to the voice in his earpiece. “Shoot to kill, take no prisoners. We gave these people a chance and they didn’t take it.”

On cue, the clusters of soldiers – with the occasional HSP agent mixed in – began to converge on the ship, watching carefully for any more movement as the smoke faded. Skeet secured his own gas mask over his face and pulled his goggles down, giving his eyes a moment to adjust to the holographic readouts inside the lenses. They were mostly meant to protect him from the gas, but if the interior of the
Vigilance
was dark or still cloudy, they’d be a great help in locating enemies.

Skeet’s group was the third to enter through this particular airlock. A few teams remained outside to watch the escape pod bays and prevent any other kind of trouble that might arise. It felt good to finally be doing something; he’d spent most of the previous afternoon in the interrogation room with the Nosti prisoner from Haphor, and by the time he’d made it to Salex in the wee hours of the morning, he’d missed all the action. Upon leaving Ziva’s house earlier, the two of them had stopped to assist other HSP units throughout the city, but it wasn’t how he wanted to be spending his time. He knew he was contributing, but the heat of battle was where he could actually see and feel the results of his work.

They’d been ordered to travel in pairs upon entering the ship, so he followed Fay down the main corridor to a narrow stairwell leading up to the next deck. With the number of soldiers they’d brought in, it wouldn’t take long to search the entire vessel. What they really needed was a manifest to which they could compare the death toll. It might shed some light on who exactly they were dealing with, as well as whether there was anyone missing.

The hallway was already littered with the bodies of men and women dressed in black armored uniforms identical to what the woman outside had been wearing. Some were still clutching guns, while others grasped retracted kytaras. Skeet had never seen one in action, but even after the quick glimpse he’d caught of Ziva’s, it was obvious they were lethal in experienced hands. He dreaded to think of the damage that woman could have caused on the ramp had she not been shot. Ziva obviously knew, and he was once again glad to have had her watching his back.

“Live one,” Fay said quietly, his voice muffled and mechanical behind the gas mask.

Skeet looked ahead to where he had indicated and saw that one of the figures slumped against the wall was still moving. The man clutched at his chest, sucking in raspy breaths through blue lips. He mumbled something that sounded like a plea for help.

“Put him out of his misery,” Skeet muttered.

Fay grunted in agreement and fired a plasma bolt through the struggling man’s head. Occasional shots could be heard elsewhere throughout the ship, some exchanges longer than others whenever any survivors tried to put up a fight. The presence of those survivors meant someone had gotten hold of gas masks; there was no doubt enough breathing apparatus aboard for the entire crew, but clearly not everyone had managed to get their hands on it.

The entire ship was tilted to one side, making footing rather tricky. Some of the bodies had begun to slide down the incline, piling up against one wall. Skeet’s goggles were still registering their heat signatures, indicating that they had expired only minutes before.

“Seen any officers yet?” he asked, glancing at the uniforms of every person he passed. All appeared to be some level of petty officer, with the occasional ensign thrown in. Nobody of significant rank.

“Negative,” Fay answered, pausing in front of a small storage room. He hit the controls and stepped aside, allowing Skeet to clear the space. It was empty.

They continued forward, easing past the gaping hole one of the massive projectiles had torn in the hull. It had embedded itself in the deck below, enabling the gas to disperse on both levels. The majority of the people they’d passed had probably been claimed by this single canister; five had been more than enough to do the job.

The two of them broke out into a large space full of workstations and consoles that appeared to be the bridge. There were fewer bodies there than Skeet had expected. Most of the crew had been positioned in or near the airlock corridors, waiting to cut down any entry teams. The tactic would have worked if not for the gas. Another projectile had entered through the front viewport and still lay in the middle of the ruined floor with a thin trail of brown smoke drifting out of it. Several GA soldiers had already arrived on the scene and were investigating the consoles.

“Here,” Fay said, gesturing toward an elevator at the rear of the room.

Skeet forced the door open and peered up the shaft to where the narrow elevator car was parked another two levels up. The few onboard systems that were still online were running on emergency power, so there was no way to call it back down. The last passenger had to have taken it up just before the ship crashed.

He stepped back and found a hatch nearby. Inside was a narrow staircase with steps so steep it was practically a ladder. He secured his rifle strap over his shoulder, beckoning for Fay to follow as he ducked inside and began to climb.

The first of the two levels separating them from the elevator car appeared to be office spaces and crew quarters. Skeet could hear the voices of some of the GA troops as he and Fay climbed past, eyes fixed on the level above.

The uppermost level was significantly smaller than the others. Two doors stood open on their right, revealing cramped officers’ cabins. A larger door, this one only partially opened, was positioned further to the left. They made their way toward it, weapons up, and took cautious looks inside. The room was bigger than the others, though still compact; a quick look around was enough to confirm that nobody was there.

“Captain’s cabin,” Fay observed.

Skeet nodded and looked over the large communications console and workbench the other rooms were lacking. The information stored on the comm console would no doubt provide them with some answers. A wide viewport took up the majority of one wall. All he could see through it now was dust and smoke, but he imagined the view must be spectacular while traveling through open space.