Free Sunset in Silvana (Da'ark Nocturne Book 1) by Paul Sims, Robert Warr

if only for a few moments.”
    He helped her into a spare seat that he’d reserved for her.  “Nonsense, my dear – we are the ones who would be honoured.  Did you hear what she said about the duty of children to be obedient, Comrades?  I only wish Josef hadn’t missed such an interesting and informative talk.  I’m all in favour of education, but this was far more relevant than some dry, dusty history lesson.  Comrade Commissar, perhaps we could invite you to visit us at our dacha tomorrow?  You could repeat your sage advice for Josef’s benefit – and maybe we could get to know each other a bit better.  What do you say?”
    “It would be a pleasure.  I’m positive I can rearrange my schedule for such a worthy cause.  And please, call me Tatiana, all of you.”
    Goran beckoned the Head Waiter over and said, “Well – Tatiana – what would you like to eat?”
    The Commissar perused the menu and pursed her lips.  “I’ll have the Flickeral Salad,” she said, then gave a slightly embarrassed smile, adding, “followed by the Butterscotch Pudding.  It’s a bit decadent – but it’s irresistible.”
    “Don’t worry,” Anoushka said, laying her hand lightly on the visitor’s.  “You’re among friends – we won’t tell.  Anyway, I feel the same way – I’ll have the same.”
    “And me,” Talia added.  “It sounds like a delicious combination.”
    “What about you, Comrade Boris?” Goran asked.
    “I’ve always enjoyed your Pork in Red Wine, Comrade – with potatoes and vegetables, please – and I’ll follow that with Chocolate Cake and Cream.”
    “I’ll just have a portion of the stew,” Goran told the Head Waiter.  “When I’ve been supervising – and tasting - the cooking all morning, I find I haven’t much of an appetite, Comrades,” he added by way of explanation.
    Boris had expected the Commissar to act like her public persona, but was pleasantly surprised: she deliberately eschewed politics, changing the subject if the conversation turned in that direction, happily chatting about music, video programming and sport, and discussing clothes and make-up with Talia and Anoushka.
    “Ah, well,” she said as they finished their coffee, “Now, I must bid you farewell and return to my duties.  Until tomorrow –“
    “Until tomorrow,” the others replied as she waved goodbye.
    They made their way to the Comet ’s private quay and boarded Goran’s Meteor catamaran, the Grim Reaper’s Darling , its name reflecting his rather macabre sense of humour.  He began setting the sail as Boris cast off and pushed the boat out from the shore.  He took the tiller, and Talia and Anoushka lay out on the cabin roof together, basking in the afternoon sun.  Boris joined him at the stern as they began their cruise along the coast.
    “Comrade Goran…” he began.
    “Please don’t call me Comrade when we’re alone,” Goran said.  “It doesn’t sound right, for some reason.”
    “That’s one of the things I’d like to talk with you about,” Boris continued. “It’s hard to explain, but…the girls and I have a strange feeling that we’re not what we’re meant to be…that we’re being – manipulated somehow.”
    “Manipulated?  That’s interesting.  Go on.”
    Boris outlined the recent events: the attack on Talia, the implanted memories, the fishing-boat with the microphone and the discovery of the nose-filters.
    As he talked, Goran’s eyes widened, but he looked more relieved than surprised.  “This would explain a lot, including some of the strange dreams I’ve been having.”
    “Dreams?”
    “Yes – mostly they fade when I awake, but sometimes a bit lingers.  They normally involve you and the others, but we seem to be in some sort of military detail.”
    “Talia thinks that the drugs in our injectors might be keeping away our true memories and making us suggestible,” Boris said.  Goran raised a slightly contemptuous eyebrow.  “Look, I know you