Ronan: Ziva Payvan Book 3 Read Online Free PDF

made the connection that something was very wrong. A large projectile shot up out of the cockpit, shattering what was left of the glass, and sailed into the air above the mess hall. Everyone in the vicinity froze and watched as the object reached its apex and burst into perhaps a dozen smaller pieces. A low hiss reached Ziva’s ears as the chunks rained down on the crowd, and she saw that each had begun to release a thin cloud of greenish-gray smoke.
    “Gas!” someone screamed.
    For once Ziva was glad to be stuck on Na at the base rather than dealing with a crowd of civilians in the city. The soldiers around her – for the most part, anyway – responded in an orderly fashion, throwing jackets over the gas canisters and moving about with minimal scrambling and jostling. Ziva sucked in one last breath and held it, but she knew it was too late; everyone in the area had been exposed the moment the main projectile broke apart.
    She pivoted and began to run back toward the rehab center with Sheen hot on her heels. The gas had an odd smell to it, but so far it didn’t seem to be having any adverse effects – she felt no dizziness or faintness, had no trouble breathing. Her eyes smarted a bit, but whether it was a result of the gas or the fire, she wasn’t sure.
    “That ship is one of ours,” Sheen called to her, his voice muffled by the hand clamped over his nose and mouth. He removed it when they had made it a suitable distance from the crash site, breathing hard. “We need to establish a quarantine zone!” he hollered into his communicator. “Make sure nobody from ground zero makes it out of the area. We have no idea if this stuff is contagious.”
    Ziva released the breath she’d been holding and looked back at the scene behind them. The people were nothing more than shapes rushing about through the haze of smoke and gas. She could hear Sheen still on comm, reporting what he was seeing to whoever was on the other end of the transmission. Aircars from the base swarmed to the site, hovering at a safe altitude and barking instructions over their loudspeakers. As she took it all in, she couldn’t help but scoff. “All the best on my birthday,” she muttered.
     

-4-
    Undisclosed Location
    Niio Spaceport
     
    The sound of the portable comm grid coming to life startled Skeet Duvo out of his thoughts. His long legs already dangled over the edge of the stiff little bunk he lay on, so he worked his way into a sitting position and planted his feet on the floor, standing bolt upright when he saw that the indicator light on the communications console blinked red.
    He made it across the darkened room in two strides and hovered over the console for a moment, wide-eyed. A red message light meant only one thing: a transmission straight from Emeri Arion’s office at the Haphezian Special Police’s Noro headquarters. And that in itself meant only one thing: bad news.
    Skeet ran a hand through his spiky orange hair and drew in a deep breath before accepting the transmission. “Duvo, Alpha 40318,” he said in response to the prompt that preceded the message. A series of tones and static followed, odd for a call coming directly from Emeri. But instead of the director’s gruff voice, he found himself listening to the eerie feminine voice of HSP’s virtual intelligence.
    “General distress. Agency-wide emergency protocols in effect. All agents currently dispatched to the field are asked to cease communications immediately. Operate under Condition Black until further notice. Warning: for security purposes, do not attempt to establish contact with HSP or any affiliates during this time.”
    Condition Black . The team had conducted a mission under Condition Black once, Skeet recalled, but mainly for training purposes. They’d been allowed no contact with the agency, no contact with any other ops teams, no contact with anyone on Haphez for that matter. Although it seemed like they were being hung out to dry, the protocol was in