Sunset in Silvana (Da'ark Nocturne Book 1)

by Paul Sims

  Ivan laughed. “You’re getting senile, old man. Anyway, Anoushka’s more my style.”

  Boris was suddenly serious. “Just be careful. You hurt Anoushka, and Talia will happily gut you with one of her scalpels – and if she didn’t, I would.”

  “Only joking, honest. Anyway, what about the bit in the news sheet about grav tanks? I just don’t know where these people get their information.”

  “I don’t know – there’s been something odd going on at work the last few days: all that security, just for a few tractors – and have you actually seen any agricultural equipment?”

  “Sure I have.”

  “What sort?”

  Ivan’s brow furrowed. “Well… Nah – you’re imagining things.” There was a long pause, and Boris was about to push the point when Ivan shrugged and said. “Look, there’s a girl coming our way. Now she looks more my type.” He scrambled to his feet.

  He was right: the sun’s last rays picked up the outline of a slim young woman in a light summer dress. She looked exceptionally pretty, with long, shapely legs and long blonde hair. Talia had just reached the shore herself, and seemed to be greeting the newcomer when the latter shouted something. They couldn’t hear what it was, but it certainly wasn’t friendly. There was a cracking sound, and the two women grappled with each other.

  By this time, Boris was up and running towards the scuffle, some yards behind Ivan, who had a head start. There was another crack and a scream, and Talia collapsed in a heap at the other woman’s feet. She stood over Talia, muttering to herself and struggling with something metallic.

  Boris’s instincts took over and he did the only thing he could: he threw the stone in his hand at Talia’s assailant. It missed her by a whisker but she was so engrossed in her task that she didn’t appear to notice. By this time she was aiming the mechanism in her hand straight at Talia’s head. It looked as if they would arrive too late, so Boris stooped as he ran, gathered up another rock and flung it at the girl in a single, instinctive, fluid motion. The missile hit her temple with surprising precision and she dropped as if pole-axed next to her intended victim.

  “I didn’t know – you could do that.” Ivan gave Boris a surprised glance as they continued sprinting towards the two prone figures.

  “Neither – did I.” Boris shook his head in mystification as they reached the women. Of the two, only Talia was conscious, and she only barely. She was curled in a ball holding her right wrist and whimpering. Boris could see from the unexpected angle of her hand that the joint was badly damaged, but his priority was to ensure that the newcomer could do no more harm.

  The girl began to regain consciousness, and moaned quietly to herself. Ivan retrieved her home-made gun and levelled it at her. “Before we hand you over to the authorities, you bitch, would you like to tell me why you tried to kill my friend?”

  “You’re another of those bastards – traitors and murderers, all of you.” She spat at Ivan.

  Ivan was taken aback. “What do you mean?”

  “Whatever the propagandists say, we know now our own government triggered the explosion at the chemical plant, destroying Pregeor and killing thousands of Zelynans, including my family. We lived outside the blast radius, but the toxic chemicals killed everyone but me – and I’ll soon be joining them – look!”

  She pulled down her dress, showing that her body was covered with scars and burns, and in the dying light Ivan and Boris could see that her face, too, was scarred, and heavily made up to disguise the damage.

  “I knew I’d never be able to get to the President or his lackeys, but you so-called ‘Heroes of Pregeor’ must have been involved somehow...” She sneered. “Anyway, I may have failed, but sooner or later, now people know the truth, someone will succeed, and you’ll die – painfully, I hope. You deserve to share our agony.” She spat at Ivan again and he recoiled from her venom.

  Boris had opened his mouth to protest when an unexpected voice from behind him made him jump. “I’ll take over now, Comrade Boris.”

  Boris looked round in surprise. “What are you doing here, Comrade Major?” he asked. “Your turning up unexpectedly is getting to be a habit – but if you’d come to protect us, you arrived a bit too late.”

  “A coincidence, Comrade Boris. I was just bringing a friend of yours to join your party.” He indicated a helicopter a little way down the beach, from which Anoushka was disembarking. “Now let me take this creature away while you tend to Comrade Talia.”

  Anoushka could see something was wrong and hurried in their direction. As soon as she saw Talia’s huddled form, she gave a wordless cry, ran to her and knelt at her side. “Oh, my poor Talia – what has that bitch done to you?” She glared at the interloper.

  “I think her wrist is broken,” Boris said miserably.

  Anoushka rounded on Ivan. “Why haven’t you done something for her?”

  “We had to secure the prisoner,” he mumbled resentfully.

  Anoushka rolled her eyes. “Men! You’re all useless! Go and get Talia’s medkit. Move!” She turned to Boris. “And you – you go and get a mattress, so we can carry her inside.”

  Boris ran towards the dacha, but partway there he almost fell on his face as something shot between his legs; it was the cat they’d seen fishing in the surf. “Get out of my way,” Boris hissed, but the creature just gave him a disdainful look and walked away, her tail held high.

  By the time he had dragged Talia’s mattress back to the scene of the battle, Anoushka had administered some morphine, and Talia was regaining a degree of hazy consciousness.

  “’Noush – ’noushka?” she muttered.

  “Yes, Talia: it’s me. Now be a good girl and rest.”

  “But – but my wrist – it’s shattered.”

  “That’s what I thought the first time I looked at it, but it’s actually not that bad. I removed this vile object,” (she held up a large ball-bearing streaked with blood) “and when I went to immobilise the joint I found that the bones were whole and the major blood vessels intact. There’s a nasty gash, but no long term damage.” Anoushka bound Talia’s wound and immobilised her patient’s damaged wrist by strapping it to her chest.

  “Thank God.” Talia’s tears began to flow as they helped her on to the mattress. The three of them, plus Major Valentine, who had returned from dealing with Talia’s attacker, carried her inside, one at each corner.

  They settled her in the living room, and sat around in a confused daze. Ivan broke out the vodka, poured them all liberal glassfuls and kept the bottle for himself. “Major,” he said, “that woman claimed we’d attacked Pregeor…”

  “Don’t believe anything she said. I’ve checked –” (Boris felt a small surge from one of his auto-injectors) “and she’s delusional. She escaped from a party of mental patients that are using a dacha just up the coast. Her carers will be severely reprimanded.”

  “But her wounds…”

  “Self-inflicted, I assure you.”

  Boris nodded in agreement, but, for some reason, he found himself mentally reciting the alphabet, over and over. He felt his mind clearing, and realised that the others seemed to be hanging on the Major’s every word.

  “Now I must leave you.” The Major got to his feet and turned to Ivan. “I’d better take that weapon and dispose of it, Comrade – it’s a nasty contraption.” Ivan handed it over and the Major looked over at Anoushka. “And its ammunition…” She gave him the ball bearing. “I suggest you all get a good night’s sleep.” With that, he departed.

  Once he had gone, Ivan went straight to bed, taking the vodka bottle with him, but Anoushka sat on Talia’s mattress with her back against the sofa, cradling her injured friend’s head and stroking her hair.

  “I still don’t see how those wounds could be self-inflicted,” Boris said quietly, so as not to disturb the patient.

  Anoushka was concentrating on Talia, and absent-mindedly said, “I know – I only caught a glance as they led her away, but her condition was s
hocking. She’ll die unless they get her into an Autodoc.”

  “What’s an Autodoc?”

  “Hmm? Sorry?”

  “I said, ‘What’s an Autodoc?’”

  Her nose wrinkled in thought. “I don’t remember hearing that term before.”

  “But you just used it.”

  She shook her head emphatically, “All I said was that poor girl was going to die. Now get to bed. I’ll look after our casualty.”

  As Boris lay down, he crimped the tubes on his auto-injectors to disable them. If his suspicions were unfounded, they were due to be checked in a few days anyway, and he could explain it away as accidental damage caused during the scuffle with Talia’s assailant. And if not…

  He awoke in the early morning, his bladder distended. Oddly, as he regained consciousness, he seemed to hear someone talking quietly, but as he moved, the voice stopped. Now he was awake, he listened in puzzlement. There seemed to be a gentle susurration, as of a number of people whispering at once. It seemed to be coming from several places, including the living room.

  After a few seconds, he raised his head to try to make out what was being said, but as soon as he did so, the noise stopped. He struggled to his feet, went to the bathroom and relieved himself and, as he made his way back, he looked in on the others to see if anyone was awake. They were all deeply asleep. To be honest, he wasn’t surprised, as the voice he’d thought he’d heard didn’t sound like any of his companions, but he was disconcerted.

  Anoushka had fallen asleep where she sat with Talia. Boris gently raised her head and slid a pillow behind it. He ran the murmur he’d heard while half-asleep through his mind. He could have sworn he’d caught the phrases ‘nothing else happened’ and ‘slipped and caught it on a bolt...’ He shook his head in bewilderment and returned to bed.

  Chapter 5

  Talia awoke in pain and confusion; her wrist hurt, and it was strapped to her chest. She opened her eyes and looked up into Anoushka’s face. Her friend smiled and said, “Good morning. How does your arm feel?”

  “Really sore,” Talia said. “I can’t believe that a simple bolt could do so much damage.”

  “Let’s have a look at it.” Anoushka undid the strapping and removed the blood-sodden bandage. The wound had mostly closed, but there was still some minor bleeding, so she anointed it with antibiotic cream and rebound it, but more lightly. “I’m not going to strap it down again, but there’s to be no heavy exercise for you today – we don’t want it to reopen, do we?”

  Talia pouted. “You don’t have to talk to me if I’m seven years old, ’Noushka.”

  “If only I could be sure you wouldn’t act like a seven year old…”

  “I’ll be a good girl, Nursie – honest.” They laughed, and Talia’s cares melted. “Oh, it’s so good to have you back.” She gave Anoushka an impromptu one-armed hug.

  “Breakfast,” Ivan called from the kitchen. Indeed, he needn’t have bothered – the smell of frying bacon was beginning to draw everyone like moths to a flame. As Talia wolfed down the artery-hardening, cholesterol-rich, but totally delicious fried meal, she looked over at Boris, who was pushing his own food distractedly around his plate.

  “What’s the matter, Comrade? Toothache?”

  He shook his head. “I need a walk to burn up some of these calories. Care to join me?” They all agreed, and once Anoushka had washed up (she refused to let Talia get her wound damp), they set off on a gentle stroll up the shoreline.

  Once they’d walked a hundred yards or so, Boris turned to Talia and said, “Talia, do you remember what happened yesterday evening.”

  “Yes, of course I do – we arrived and unpacked. You sat on the beach while I went swimming. On the way back, I damaged my wrist when I slipped and caught it on a bolt protruding from the veranda rail. Nothing else happened.”

  “Don’t you remember being attacked?”

  Talia stopped in her tracks, looking confused, and shook her head. “Being attacked?”

  “It happened just as Anoushka arrived,” he added.

  “What do you mean?” Anoushka said pensively. Her eyes widened and she gasped. “It’s all coming back to me now. You were injured when a girl attacked you. That’s why you were on your mattress in the living room this morning – we’d had to sedate you and carry you back from the beach. The girl accused you – and us – of causing the disaster at Pregeor.”

  A pulse in Talia’s temple started to throb and all her muscles seemed to tighten. “Boris – ’Noushka – it’s very strange, but now I’ve got two sets of memories of last night. I –I know you’re right: I can see the girl’s face now – it was all creased up. She was screaming at me. But I still remember catching my wrist on that bolt as well – horrible, ugly thing sticking out of the veranda. They can’t both be true.”

  “Which of them seems the most real?” Boris put his hands on Talia’s shoulders and his eyes bored into hers.

  “I – I don’t know…” She turned her head away, unwilling to meet his eyes. “I really don’t want to think about it.”

  “Please, concentrate – it’s important,”

  Talia closed her eyes and took a deep breath. What could she be certain of? She remembered their arrival, changing, and that exhilarating swim. Then, as she left the water… Suddenly the incident with the bolt fled before her internal gaze. “I was attacked,” she said firmly, turning her gaze back to Boris.

  “Good girl!”

  At this point Ivan, who had been lagging behind, caught up with them and asked, “What’s going on?”

  “We were discussing last night’s attack,” Boris replied.

  “Attack? What attack?”

  “Don’t you remember? The one where that woman shot Talia in the arm.”

  “Begging your pardon, Comrade Anoushka, but there was no attack – she merely slipped and caught her wrist on a bolt protruding from the veranda rail. Nothing else happened.”

  “Same phrases, same fiction,” Boris said, half to himself. “I swear I heard those same words when I got up to relieve myself last night. I believe we’re being brain-washed.”

  “The only thing that your brains have been washed in is too much vodka.” For some reason, Ivan was getting agitated.

  “Calm down, my friend – it’s just that I think that someone’s been messing with our minds – and our memories.”

  Ivan snarled. “You’re delusional, Boris. My mind’s fine – and my memory.”

  “What about Pregeor?”

  “What about it?”

  “What really happened there?”

  “What do you mean? We know what happened.”

  “Do we? Are you positive? We only know what we’ve been told. Maybe our memories need jogging.”

  “I’ll jog your memory!” Ivan swung at Boris and hit him full in the face, and the older man crumpled to the sand.

  “What did you do that for?” Anoushka knelt down beside Boris, and reached into her bag for a tissue to stem the bleeding from his nose.

  Ivan seemed confused. “He – he insulted me! Implied I was crazy.” He turned on his heel and stamped off back in the direction of the dacha.

  Talia joined Anoushka at Boris’ side and examined him. The flow of blood soon lessened, and they were able to help him sit up. He was still very muzzy, but despite the anger in Ivan’s blow, there seemed to be no major harm done. Boris followed Talia’s finger with his eyes, and his pupils seemed fine, so there was no sign of concussion.

  When the stream of blood had become a trickle, Talia checked the inside of his nose. It didn’t seem badly injured, but while she was examining it she caught a glimpse of something odd. There was a strange plastic device deep in the nasal passage. She wanted to take a closer look, but felt she couldn’t reach it without reopening the wound, or at least causing Boris severe pain, given the bruising surrounding it, so left it where it was.

  “He should be fine,” she told Anoushka. “Let’s get him back to the dacha – a couple of painki
llers should have him feeling better.” Anoushka nodded, and helped Talia get Boris to his feet. As they slowly made their way along the beach, Talia looked over at her friend. “Anoushka, back in the city, before we came here, Josef ‘liberated’ an off-world newssheet from a tourist.”

  “Did he, indeed?” She chuckled. “Young delinquent. What did you do to him?”

  “Nothing – we were too curious about what it said. It made some scurrilous claims about our Republic, but there was one thing it mentioned that’s just come to mind...”

  “Oh? What’s that?”

  “It recommended that visitors to Ruine should wear nasal filters.”

  “I vaguely remember hearing something like that before – something about our atmosphere being rich in sulphur.”

  “And I know we’ve got air filtration units in several of the rooms at the Medical Centre set aside for off-worlders. I’ve never had call to use them myself...”

  “... but they’re there for those who can’t tolerate our atmosphere,” she finished. “Interesting, but I don’t see what you’re getting at.”

  “Well, while I was treating Boris’s nose, I noticed that there’s something that looks suspiciously like a filter deep inside it.” They had reached the veranda, and sat their still-dazed charge down. “Could you look after him for a minute while I get something?”

  “I’d be happy to.”

  Talia returned seconds later with the pencil torch from her medkit. A few minutes investigation confirmed her suspicions: Boris and Anoushka had similar devices in both nostrils. “Look here.” she showed Anoushka the contraption in Boris’s left nostril. “Would you check my nose?”

  She put her head back so that Anoushka could shine the torch up her nose and peer inside. “You’re right,” Anoushka said after some seconds, “You’ve got them, too.”

  Talia sat up and thought for a few seconds and said, “Look, ’Noushka, I want to do an experiment – I’d like to see the effect if one of those devices is removed. I’d try to take out one of mine, but I’d have to use a mirror, which always makes manipulation difficult – and after what Ivan did, I don’t want to disturb Boris’s for fear of doing more damage...”