Sunset in Silvana (Da'ark Nocturne Book 1) (9 page)

They were not too high when the missile hit, and somehow their pilot managed to avoid the dense forest and crash into a clearing.  They hit the ground nose first and the snow was quite deep, so although the impact was serious, it wasn’t fatal to those in the rear, though Bartes’ glance at the flight crew showed they hadn’t been so lucky.

He looked over at Tanya, who was bleeding from the nose.  “Are you all right?” he asked

She wiped the blood with the back of her hand.  “I’ve got a splitting headache,” she said, “but I’m fine otherwise.”

“I seem to have survived as well”, the Commissar added, “apart from a few bruises.  At least the seat-belts proved adequate.”

The door on the right side of the helicopter had been wrenched off during the crash, and as Bartes undid his belt, he saw their guards make their way out of the jagged hole it had left.  There were two almost simultaneous bursts of gunfire followed by a thump as something large and heavy fell against the side of the helicopter.

He and Tanya looked at each other in consternation.  :
What’s happening?
: she asked him telepathically.

:
I don’t know,
: he replied.  :
Nothing good.  I can sense a group of people out there.  I doubt they’re friendly, since they just shot our escort.
:

:
Are they dead?
:

:
One is – the other is dying.  I think we’re in deep trouble.
:

Two figures dressed in paramilitary gear looked in through the serrated tear in the fuselage.  They were armed with advanced combat rifles, and the way they carried their weapons looked less than friendly.

The Commissar rose and drew a pistol from her handbag.  She opened her mouth to challenge the intruders, but the nearer figure raised its rifle and fired a short burst before she could do so.  She blinked twice and looked in surprise down at the red stains spreading over her white blouse.  She gave a couple of gasping breaths and a bubbling cough, then subsided, her eyes glazing over and blood trickling from the side of her still-open mouth.  Tanya and Bartes immediately raised their hands.

“Please don’t kill us,” Tanya begged.

“And why shouldn’t we?” a female voice sneered.

“We’re not who you think we are.”

“We know
just
who you are,” the woman replied slowly and grimly.  “You’re ‘Heroes of Pregeor’.  Our allies tell us that you massacred your own people for your cursed government.  To be honest, we don’t really care about that – the deaths of Zelynans is all to the good, but
your
deaths, now – they could deal a blow to your pestilential regime, and help free Silvana from its rule.”

“We aren’t!  We didn’t!  We’re not Heroes – or villains – we’re just scapegoats.”

There was a tense pause and the figures disappeared.  There was the sound of animated discussion from outside, but Bartes and Tanya couldn’t make out the words and, by common consent, daren’t risk telepathy in case the intruders were sensitive to it and took exception.  The strain was almost unbearable by the time the voice said, loudly, “All right, come out of there and explain yourselves – but no funny business or we shoot.”

As he and Tanya emerged, Bartes stumbled over the body of one of the bodyguards, and saw that the other lay off to one side.  They were both covered in blood and very dead.  Six people stood in a semi-circle, all with rifles pointed in their direction.  One of them, the stocky woman who seemed to be their leader, took a couple of paces toward them.

“Now what do you mean by scapegoats?” she asked.

“Look, we’ve only just found out who we really are.  We’d been brainwashed into thinking we’re Heroes of Pregeor.  We weren’t actually there – we’re not even from this planet,” Bartes said.  “We’re off-worlders who were kidnapped by the Zelynan Government, and we have no more love for them than you have.  We’re their prisoners and we want to escape.  Please – help us, and we’ll do our best to help you.”

Most of their captors seemed incredulous, and one or two roared with laughter.  Their leader shook her head in disbelief and snorted.  “I knew you’d say anything to avoid being killed,” she said, “but that’s ridiculous.  Say goodbye to each other.”  She signalled, and her team raised their weapons.

“No!  Stop!  Look, we can prove it,” Tanya pleaded.

They paused.  The leader’s gun was pointing between Bartes’ eyes, and everything was frozen in agonising detail.  He swore later that he could see the rifling in the barrel, and even the nose of the bullet deep within.  Part of his mind noted that one of their captors hadn’t aimed at them, and was deliberately looking away, but also observed dryly that five executioners would prove quite adequate.  After a few heartbeats that seemed to last forever, the leader grunted and lowered the muzzle of her gun a few inches.

“How?” she demanded tersely.

With a gasp Tanya released the breath she hadn’t realised she’d been holding.  “We have filters in our noses to help us cope with the sulphur in your atmosphere.”

The leader signalled to the girl who’d been unwilling to kill them.  “Maria!  You check her story.  We’ll cover you.”

The youngster, who looked about seventeen, walked tentatively forward.  She took a torch from her pack, peered up Bartes’ nose with it, and extracted one of his filters.  She took more care than he’d have expected, and even apologised for the discomfort.  The unfiltered atmosphere was unpleasant, and he nearly vomited.  She examined the tiny plastic apparatus with a puzzled expression, looked up Tanya nose to check that she had similar devices, and took it over to the leader.

“Hah – this could be anything,” the stout woman said.  “And anyway, even if it is a filter, what does that prove?  You could still be willing collaborators – or even Dainworlders.”

“But we aren’t!” Tanya almost screamed.  “And we could help you.”

“And just how could you do that?”

“If we escape – and we intend to – it would be a major distraction for your – our – enemies.”

The woman thought for a moment, before shaking her head.  “How can we know if you’re telling the truth?”

Tanya bit her lip in consternation, but then she had an idea.  “Test our blood,” she said.  “It will show you that we’re from the Terran Union – which is no friend to the Zelynan government.”

“And if you’re lying?”

“I’m sure you can find us again and finish the job – or perhaps you don’t think that’s possible.”

Good tactic
, Bartes thought. 
She won’t want to seem weak in front of her team.

The woman bridled.  “Of course it’s possible.  If we wanted to kill you – anywhere, any time – nothing – and no-one – could stop us.  Dieter, take blood samples from them while we discuss this.  Maria, you keep them covered.”

A young man came over to them, took a medical kit from his backpack, removed a couple of small jars and emptied the pills from them into his pockets.  “Put out your hand,” he said.  When Tanya did so, he sliced her palm with his knife and collected some of her blood in one of the jars, before repeating the savage process with Bartes and the other container.  Before he returned to his companions, he shoved Bartes’ filter into Tanya’s other hand.  “You – put this back,” he said.

As Tanya replaced the apparatus as delicately as she could, the rebels discussed their fate.  Bartes had little hope for their survival – and indeed, after a few minutes, it seemed that the tide was turning against them.  He overheard the phrase, “a beached pluny is worth a river-f of fish,” and decided to take one last gamble.  He reached out with his mind to the youngest of their captors.

:
Maria,
: he sent quietly.  The girl jumped and looked around wildly, but the others’ discussion had become animated, and they didn’t notice.  :
Maria, it’s me.
:  She looked over in his direction and he nodded imperceptibly.  She opened her mouth to say something, but he forestalled her.  :
Please – don’t give me away.  Just think: I can read your mind.
:

You’re telepathic,
she thought.

:
Yes.  You know they’re going to kill us, don’t you.
:

They might decide to let you go.

:
I can see you don’t really believe that – and I know you don’t want us to die.
:

There’s already been so much death: my father, my brother, so many of my friends… but I can’t let my team-mates down.

:
We’ve got team-mates depending on us, too.  We’re going to have to make a run for it.  It’s not far to the trees, and you’re the only one between us and the forest.  If you don’t shoot, we might just make it.
:

He could sense her indecision, and saw her take a steadying breath. 
All right, but you’ll have to hit me as you go past, or Martje, at least, will suspect something.  Wait till I look over at the others.  I’ll claim I was distracted by their discussion.  Good luck – and look out, there are other teams in the woods – we were just the nearest to the crash site, and got here first.

:
Get ready to run as soon as Maria looks away,
: Bartes told Tanya.  :
I’ve persuaded her to let us escape.
:

Their muscles tensed as they watched Maria.

The girl took another deep breath, set her lips and deliberately looked away.

Tanya and Bartes took off towards the woods without a glance back.  As they passed Maria, Bartes clipped her across the chin, hard enough to knock her down but without causing any real damage.

They had almost reached the tree-line before their erstwhile captors recovered from their surprise and opened fire.  Bullets flew past them on both sides.  They dived headlong over a fallen tree-trunk, and hit the ground.

Bartes had just raised himself on his hands and knees, ready to crawl away, when Tanya yelped.  “What’s wrong,” he asked.

“M-my back,” she said through gritted teeth.  “I’ve been hit.”

Bartes glanced down.  “It’s a splinter of wood.  It must have been knocked off a tree by one of the bullets.  Come on.”  He got to his feet, and reached down to help Tanya up.

She took his hand, but when she tried to rise, she gave a cry of pain.  “There’s no way I can move,” she said, shaking her head.  “Leave me.”

“Don’t be stupid.  We have to find somewhere to hide.”

“Where? ...Oh!” Tania’s voice surged with a sudden hope. “Lie down next to me,” she said urgently.

“We don’t have time for that sort of thing.”

“Idiot,” she said, and chuckled briefly at his gallows humour.  “Just do it!”

Her peremptory tone shocked him into obedience, and he threw himself down, twigs snapping beneath the weight of his body.  They heard their pursuers fall still, listening.  After a couple of seconds, the rustling of a clump of ferns nearby told them that the chase was nearly upon them.

:
God, Tanya, they can’t miss us,
: he sent.  :
That guy – Dieter – he’s coming our way.  He’ll be on us any moment.
:

:
Keep still.  He
won’t
see us – not unless you panic,
: Tanya sent, her ‘voice’ sounding strained.  :
And keep the heavy breathing for later – when we’re alone.
:

It was all Bartes could do not to laugh aloud.  :
Now who’s being an idiot,
: he sent.  :
Why can’t he see us?
:

:
It’s one of my talents,
: Tanya replied.  :
Just be quiet and think like a log.  I’ve got to concentrate.
:

Dieter scanned the area where they lay.  Bartes felt it was only a matter of time before they were located.  The young man look straight at him, and Bartes braced himself for a struggle, but just as the tension was becoming unbearable, Dieter turned away and called, “They’re not over here.  I could have sworn they went this way.  I’ll look deeper in.”  He walked past the fugitives, his boot landing within inches of Bartes’ head.

More rebels arrived to join in the hunt, and Bartes and Tanya heard them calling to each other as they systematically searched the area.  Bartes heard a heavy tread coming their way.

“They must be somewhere round here,” a familiar voice said.

“But, Martje, I checked this area – it’s completely clear,” Dieter replied as they came into sight.

“I want to check for myself.”

Bartes glanced at Tanya.  Her face glistened with sweat; her eyes were closed in concentration.  He knew better than to disturb her, and watched as the rebels came closer. Ten metres – eight metres –

My God,
he thought,
they’re going to fall over us.
  :
Tanya – your leg - get it out of the way – quick!
:

Martje froze in mid-stride.

“What is it?” Dieter asked.