Sunset in Silvana (Da'ark Nocturne Book 1) (8 page)

Bartes wandered into the kitchen of the dacha and joined the youngsters, who were starting to wash the dishes.  He even gave them a hand – after all, RD was definitely being unfair.

“That’s moronic.  Everyone knows the Atrix Swift exhaust system’s about twenty years out of date…”  Peter was saying.

“OK, I’m not saying the Swift’s the best, but you must admit it’s half of the price of the Cinta Airbrave.  If you can afford that many zellars, fair enough, but…  What do you think, Comrade Boris?”

“Hmm?”  For a second or two, Bartes had forgotten his current name.  “Oh.  Oh, yes.  Well, as far as I know, you’re both right.  It depends how much money you have to spend.  How much do you have?”

Both boys looked embarrassed.

“Not a lot,” Peter admitted.

“That’s one of the things we wanted to talk to you about,” Joseph added.

“I see,” Bartes said.  “You want to ‘borrow’ some from me.  Doesn’t Goran give you pocket money?”

“Only a pittance,” Joseph told him.  “I have to slave for him all day, and he acts as if I should be grateful for every cent.”

“I’m sure it’s not quite that bad,” Bartes said uncertainly.  “Anyway, I’ll give it some thought.  Now let’s get this chore done.”

As they finished the dishes, Joseph gave Bartes a pleading look.  “Would you do me a favour, Comrade Boris?” he asked.

“And what would that be?”

“It’s a long weekend, and they’re having a hovercart grand prix and lots of other races on Lake Kuraken.  Could you possibly ask the Major whether we could make it up there to see some of them?  Don’t mention it to ol’ sourpuss, though – he’s bound to veto it on the principle that I thought of it, and if the Major says it’s OK, he won’t be able to.”

Bartes paused. 
I’ll bet it would be easier to escape from Lake Kuraken than from here,
he thought.  “I’ll see what I can do,” he said aloud.  “Now let’s make some drinks and join the others.” 

As he sat on the veranda, sipping his coffee and pondering the situation, he reached out with his mind.  :
Tanya,
: he sent.

Tanya jumped and almost spilled her coffee.

“Is everything all right, Comrade?”  Ivan – Iain – looked slightly concerned.

Tanya smiled somewhat nervously.  “It’s nothing, really – just a chill running down my spine.  I was thinking about yesterday, and I suddenly realised just how close we came to being killed.”

:
Tanya, it’s me – Bartes.
:

:
I’d forgotten we could do this.
:

:
So had I – until I just did it instinctively.  How’s your memory coming?
:

:
Patchy.  I’m beginning to remember who we are, and I’ve recalled what we should be doing, back on Regni or wherever the Governor is, but why we’re here and not there, and how we got here, is still a mystery.  And I didn’t realise I’d got any of my psionics back – or even remember that I had any – until you surprised me.
:

:
Sorry about that.  Nicely covered by the way.
:

:
Thanks.
:  Throughout their discussion, she managed to keep up her conversation with the others, and gave no hint of their telepathic dialogue.  Bartes hoped that he’d concealed his half of their mental exchange equally as successfully.

When they’d finished their drinks, RD made a suggestion.  “I fancy some exercise.  I’m going for a walk in the woods.”

“Sounds a good idea,” Iain agreed.

“I’ll come too,” said Joseph immediately, before RD could assign him more chores.  Peter also nodded his assent.

Anna, though, was still a bit rattled.  “Are you sure it’s safe?” she asked.

“Positive.”  RD gave her a reassuring smile.  “Coming?”

“N-no.”  She shivered again.  “Be careful.”

“What about you, Boris?” RD asked.

“Why not,” Bartes replied.  “We might as well check out exactly how secure we really are.  Talia?”

Tanya thought a moment.  “No, I think I’d better stay here with Anoushka.”  Anna gave her a grateful look.  “But before you go, I can see there’s something wrong with your drug dispensers, Josef.  Come with me.”  She took the young man into the kitchen.

As they entered the woods, Bartes skimmed his leader’s mind to see what mental state he was in.  RD turned towards him instantly, his eyes flashing dangerously.  “I’ll thank you not to mess with my head,” he hissed.

Bartes was taken aback by his vehemence, but then he remembered RD’s aversion and sensitivity to psionics.  Their leader barely tolerated him, as the squad’s licensed telepath, and it had been a source of antagonism between RD and Tanya from the day she joined the team.  “Sorry,” Bartes whispered, “I was only checking to see if you remembered who you are.”

“You could have asked.”

“I was trying to be discreet.”

“Just don’t do it again.  If I catch you or that witch inside my head, I swear I’ll kill you.  And yes, as you can probably tell, I remember who I am – and who you really are.”

“OK.”  Bartes paused.  “Have
you
any idea why we’re here on this planet?”

RD shook his head, frustration writ large on his face.  Suddenly, his expression changed.  “Look up ahead,” he said in an undertone, “a couple of yards to the right of this track.”

Bartes looked in the direction RD had indicated, and could just make out a camouflaged foxhole.  He stopped, breathed deeply and looked around as if just out for a stroll.  “There’s another one further on, on the other side.  Do you think they’ve spotted us?”

“Let’s find out.”  RD indicated to the others to move as quietly as possible as they approached the cordon.

It was only when they were within a couple of strides of the nearest dugout that there was a guilty start, and a fresh-faced private lifted his head, pointed a rifle at them and called “Who goes there?” rather too loudly.

“The people you’re
supposed
to be protecting, out for a walk.  Were you asleep or something?”

“N-no, Comrade Heroes,” the boy replied, his dishevelled state indicating otherwise, “merely keeping a low profile.”

RD grunted.  “Well, you can go back to keeping a low profile – but try not to snore so loudly.”

The young man blushed and muttered, “No – that is, yes, Comrade Hero.  Thank you, Comrade Hero.”

As they walked on, Bartes said, “I didn’t hear any snoring.”

“Neither did I,” RD replied, “but I know that sort of soldier – I was one once.”  He gave a wolf-like grin.  “I’ll bet he needs a change of underwear now.”

They walked on for a few hundred yards, then it was their turn to be surprised when another soldier stepped out in front of them from behind a tree, his gun raised.  “You’ll have to turn back, Comrades – this is the limit of our protection,” he said.

“Of course, Comrade Sergeant.  It’s good to see that
you
know what you’re doing at least - the troops manning the inner cordon seemed to be handpicked for idiocy.”

“Did you spot that sergeant?” Bartes asked RD as they headed back to the dacha.

“No,” RD replied. “It seems that some, at least, of our guardians – or, perhaps, our jailers – know what they’re doing.”

As the others walked off into the woods, Tanya sat down next to Anna and put her arm round the girl’s shaking shoulders.

“Oh, my poor Anna,” she said.

“Who?”  Anoushka/Anna’s momentarily puzzled expression gave way as her eyes widened.  After some moments she swallowed.  “Yes, that is my name, isn’t it?  I’m Anna Lawrence – and your name’s Tanya Miller.  It’s all coming back to me now.”

Tanya let her think for a while.  “It’s all rather a shock, isn’t it.”

“Y-yes.”  Anna looked up into Tanya’s face and sighed.  “You and the others can cope with this – they’re military, and although you’re a doctor, you’re with Mercy, but I’m just a s-secretary, and I don’t know how to deal with being brainwashed, and with - with people trying to kill us.  How do you manage to be so calm about it all?”

A shiver ran down Tanya’s spine and she sadly shook her head.  “I’m not – not on the inside, anyway – I’ve just learnt to act as though I am.  If I ever grew indifferent to the danger, the pain and the suffering, I’d be no better than a robot – or, more likely, I’d be dead.  Whatever happens, whether I want to scream, or cry, or roll up into a ball and hide, I have to keep my emotions under control and do what I can to deal with the situation.”

“But what
are
we going to do?” Anna asked, her despair showing in her voice.

Tanya held her and stroked her hair gently.  “We’re going to go home, Anna.  Somehow, I swear, I’ll get you back to Regni.  And we’re going to deal with the bastards who did this to us – to you.  For the rest of us such things go with the territory, but not for you – or young Joseph.  I don’t know who caught you up in this, but I promise you I’ll find out – and they’ll pay, whoever they are.  Now dry your eyes, and let’s prepare some lunch.”

Anna set to concocting a salad as Tanya poured her another coffee – and added a tot of vodka.  “Drink this – it’ll make you feel better.”

Anna sipped the hot drink and gave a tentative smile.  “Thank you, Tanya.  You always know just how to lift my spirits.”

Tanya laughed.  “You just drink
that
spirit.  Anyway, I feel the same way about you – and I’m not sure
your
good opinion of
me
is really justified.  I don’t remember much of my life before all this, but I have a feeling I’m not as nice a person as you seem to think.  And call me Talia for the moment – we can’t be certain when we’re being overheard, and we don’t want to be reprogrammed.”

“So that’s why you turned on the tap when we came in: to cover up our conversation.”

“It’s an old trick, but it works.  We can only talk freely if we know no-one can hear what we’re saying.”  Tanya scanned the kitchen.  “The only microphone I can see is in the far corner, behind the bread-bin.  Don’t look at it!”

“Why not?”

“There’s a mini-cam in the opposite corner, above the wall-cupboard.  If someone’s watching, we don’t want to give away that we know we’re being spied on – or let them read our lips.”

“You
are
paranoid.”

“Paranoia keeps you alive.”  There was a short pause as they laid out the meat, cheese and bread, and carried the platter, the salad and the relishes out to the picnic table.  “Anna, I’m going to try something which might help.”

“Okay.”  She sat on the bench.  “But call me Anoushka – I rather like it, and I plan to keep it – it sounds much nicer than Anna, and it’s the same name really.

:
Can you hear me, Anoushka?
: Tanya sent psionically.

“Yes,” the unrechristened Anoushka said with a puzzled look.  “But you didn’t move your lips.  Was that telepathy?”

:
Yes.  I know that you’re not a telepath, but you don’t have to be to ‘talk’ to me.  I can do all the work.  Now try thinking of something or someone I wouldn’t expect, but would recognise.
:  Anoushka’s brow furrowed, and a picture of John D’Arcy came into Tanya’s mind.  She was so surprised that she blurted out, “John?  I didn’t realise you found him attractive.”

Anoushka blushed.  “I didn’t think
that
’d come over.”

“Emotions are easier to read than ideas.  Don’t worry – I’ll keep your secret.”

Anoushka frowned.  “I hope he’s all right.”

Tanya patted her hand.  “Don’t you worry about him.  The security at the Skyport is very tight.”

Anoushka paused and her brows wrinkled.  “Who else knows who they really are?”

“I know Bartes does, and it shouldn’t be long before the others remember the truth, now they’re no longer being drugged, but we’ll have to keep play-acting for now.”  Tanya heard a noise and looked up.  “Anyway, hush – here they come.”

As they ate their lunch, Tanya informed Bartes of her conversation with Anoushka
.  :I’ve made a mental link with her,
: she told him.  :
Hopefully, I can strengthen it till we can communicate at will.
:

:
Don’t try it with RD,
: he replied.

:
I wouldn’t dream of it.  I remember how much he hates telepathy.  I wish I knew why he detests psionics – and me – so much.
:

It was in the middle of the afternoon when the helicopter arrived for their trip to the Medical Centre.  It was a large troop-carrier, and as well as the pilot and his co-pilot, it was carrying two heavily-armed marines to act as a bodyguard.  The latter conducted Tanya & Bartes to their seats and sat either side of them.  The flight passed quietly, as their guards seemed unwilling to engage in idle conversation.  To their relief, given their recent experiences, it was also without incident.

Tanya felt odd entering the double doors of the Centre – strangely nostalgic.  She realised that she’d been happy there: her job had been easy, her colleagues agreeable and the stress levels relatively low – apart from the odd emergency.  She’d usually been able to take the bus home after each shift with the warm feeling of a job well done.  Now everything had changed, and not for the better.  She shook herself.  That life was a sham, she told herself, and couldn’t have continued forever.

They’d asked their guards to wait outside for them, as they didn’t want to alarm the Centre’s staff.  The security guard on detail glanced at their identity cards, but he wasn’t really interested, as there were no high security patients in residence.  He waved Tanya and Bartes through and returned to watching football on a portable video screen.

Tanya found the duty nurse, Olga Poliakova, and asked her to keep Bartes company while she checked on the patients in the few beds that were occupied.  That task complete, she made her way to her office.  She noted that she was the only senior staff member present – even those who should have been in attendance had been allowed to be with their families for the holiday, though they were on call if needed.  She was sorry to miss Dr Julia in particular.  They’d become quite close, and she owed the doctor a lot.  She would have liked to have made a proper farewell, even if she daren’t have revealed that’s what it was.

She ran the drugs that she removed from the group’s dispensers through the spectral analyser and compared them with the pharmacopoeia.  It was about what she had suspected: for RD, Anoushka and Joseph, both dispensers contained Hyperon 9, a banned hypnotic, though this
was
mixed with a basic radiation palliative for some reason, but for Bartes and herself, one contained Psigon, a psionic inhibitor.

She picked up Iain’s sample to load into the analyser and paused.

Why is it a deeper amber than the others?
she wondered. 
Methaqualude?  That would explain a lot...

Methaqualude it was. 
And that,
thought Tanya,
accounts for ‘Ivan’ being so different from the team-mate I’ve always trusted to have my back in tricky situations.
  She knew that this particular drug was only used – normally to treat depression – in extreme cases, as it tended to have an effect on the personality of the patient. 
Hopefully, now he’s no longer under its influence, he’ll soon be back to normal.

She erased the results from the analyser’s data bank, retrieved her personal medical kit and added to it a selection of drug components; she had her own ideas about ways to aid their escape.  She also located a couple of instruments that could be used to facilitate the extraction and replacement of the nasal filters, picked up the books she ostensibly came for, then went to have a coffee with Bartes and Nurse Olga.

“I’ll have to drag Boris away now,” Tanya said after a while.  “We’ve got to pick someone up for a visit to our dacha.”

“Must you?”  Olga wrinkled her nose.  “It’s so slow around here today, and I’m bored.”

“You should be reading improving text-books or medical journals.”  Tanya frowned theatrically and waggled her finger in false admonition, but couldn’t keep a straight face.

Olga laughed.  “You get yourself off to your beach,” she said, “and don’t think of us poor workers.  Wait until the revolution, when we throw off the shackles of you bloated aristocrats!”

They parted in good humour, but for Tanya there was a tinge of sadness: if things went as she hoped they would, this would be the last time she and Olga would see each other.  And if they ever did meet again, their relationship could never be the same.  Unless Tanya had been re-programmed, and that thought made her shudder.

The helicopter flew to Restavic City’s main helipad, where Political Commissar Tatiana was waiting.  She looked quite different out of her uniform and with her hair free.  She exchanged greetings and the standard pleasantries with Tanya, but was sensitive to the latter’s pensive mood, and left her to her brown study while she chatted to Bartes.

Tanya sat, chin in hand, looking out of the window as dusk began to fall, the oncoming darkness echoing her mood.  They were flying over the mountains, which were sprinkled with early snow, when she was momentarily distracted by a flash of flame from the forest.  She disregarded it, unwisely as it turned out.  A moment later there was a cry of “Incoming!” from the co-pilot and the helicopter lurched sideways as the pilot took evasive action.  Seconds later, there was an explosion at the rear of the helicopter, and it began to spin out of control.

The view through the windows was disorientating, but with every rotation, the waiting trees were closer.  Instinct told Tanya that she might be able to do something about their predicament with her mind: she reached out and tried to stop, or at least slow, their spin, but there was nothing to push against.  Just before impact, she found she could thrust mentally against the ground a little, though the strain was excruciating.

Whether her efforts made any difference, she couldn’t tell.  From the feeling of dizziness and nausea after they hit, she knew that she had at least survived – and almost wished that she hadn’t.