She remembered when he’d given her the necklace: five months ago in April, not long after the disastrous campaign at Tikonov where Victor’s forces were forced back into Lyran space. She remembered hearing the sizzle of rain against stone outside their window. A light breeze fluttered the curtains, and she smelled water and wet leaves. They made slow, lingering love, taking their time, delighting in the taste and feel of one another. The sheets felt cool, and in the dim light of a single candle, Jonathan’s skin glowed a rich warm amber.
“I have something for you,” he said and fastened the chain around her neck. The diamond caught the light, like a tiny comet. He touched the diamond with his finger then pressed his lips to the dome of her right breast, then her left, and then, last of all, her lips. “A diamond lasts forever, and so will my love for you,” he murmured. “I want you to remember that, Liz, no matter what.”
And she’d known at that moment what was going to happen. Still, she pulled him close. His skin was smooth from their lovemaking, and she inhaled musk, and the faintest hint of sweat. They were silent for a few moments. Then she said, “You’re going away, aren’t you? You’ve decided to…” She couldn’t say the word defect, not just then, so she didn’t.
He didn’t answer at first, just traced the length of chain along her collarbone with a finger. Her eyes burning with unshed tears, she waited him out. “Yes,” he said finally. “I’m sorry. But after Tikonov, the way the war is going… Liz, I don’t think Victor’s right. I’ve given it a lot of thought and I’m not sure his claim is… authentic.”
“And Katherine’s is?” She wanted to be angry. She wanted to shout and tell him that he’d lost his mind. But she couldn’t do any of those things.
He’d sighed, then rolled onto his back. “I don’t know anything anymore. But I have to do what’s right, what feels right. This… the Twenty-Third, fighting for Victor… Liz, I can’t stomach it. I can’t pretend loyalty to a cause that I don’t think is just.”
She propped her head on her elbow so she could look into those intense blue eyes. “What about us, John? What am I supposed to do? Resign my commission? Report you?”
His eyes held hers. “You could. You know you could. I’ll be a traitor.”
“Terrific.” She gave a bleak laugh. “They’ll execute you and pin a medal on my chest. What kind of choice is that?”
“Then come with me,” and then when she’d shaken her head, his hands gripped her biceps. “For God’s sake, why stay? What’s here for you?”
“My duty, John. My job. And I believe in Victor,” she said. Her heart raced, but she kept her voice steady. “Besides, my oath is just as important as yours. You’re not the only one with a conscience. I have to do what I think is right. Defection isn’t, and there’s no way you can make that choice right, not for me.”
“And if the Eleventh and the Twenty-Third…” His voice was husky with emotion. “Liz, if it comes down to a fight, Lyran against Lyran, regiment against regiment…?”
“Then we do our jobs, John,” she said. “We follow orders. We hope for the best.”
“Oh, God,” he said, pulling her down onto his chest. She nestled there, her ear pressed against his heart. She listened to its strong, steady beat and, for the moment, felt her fears recede. His hands stroked her long blonde hair, the back of her head. “It won’t come to that. I promise.”
“You can’t know that,” she said, and now her tears came. “It’s not your promise to make, John.”
“I know.” He lifted her face and framed it with his hands. “But this is, Liz. This is my promise to you.” And then he’d kissed her fiercely, hungrily, his need flowing into her.
They hadn’t spoken again after that for the rest of the night—at least, not in words. She’d fallen asleep in the circle of his arms but the next morning, when she woke, he was gone.
Only five months ago. She closed her finger around the diamond pendant and pressed it to her lips. Love is forever, my darling; the war isn’t. But there was no end in sight, and now she was on one side, and Jonathan was on the other. Her gaze swung back to the distant mons, the tiny ´Mechs. She saw a plume of smoke rise, and the wind reached her; there was a sound of thunder, and she smelled ozone, vented coolant, and the stink of sulfur.
I wish it would rain. I wish it would rain and wash away all the blood and the stench, and then the world would be clean, and we could start again, forget this horror.
But it didn’t rain. She really didn’t expect it to. Trainer finished her cigarette, then let it fall to the hard earth, and ground it to dust beneath her boot.
• • •
“I won’t kid you,” said the colonel, looking at the various command staff assembled around the table. He wasn’t a tall man and his scalp was capped with a shock of white, unruly hair that always seemed like it needed a good brushing. His gray eyes sunk into his face from too many hours tending patients, and he looked as if he hadn’t slept in a month. “The situation’s bad. Command hasn’t
