The Evening Sings in a Voice of Amber

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Monday, 03 May 2523
Companion Guild Temple
Sihnon, White Sun (Bai Hu) system
0630hrs, local time


Birdsong and the rustle of the trees outside tugged me awake. I blinked in the growing light, unsure at first where I was. Memory caught up with me a second later and I lay for a moment watching the shadows flutter on the walls as the sunlight filtered through. The room Joshua and I had been given was little larger than the one we shared on Equinox, but what it lacked in size it more than made up for in style. The plastered walls had been painted a light clear blue and as the morning sun struck it, it mimicked the sky outside. Fabrics were rustic but soft and comfortable, as was the four poster bed. The wood floor and trim had been stained a warm reddish brown. One wall of our room was hung floor to ceiling in white gauze, billowing in the open doorway that ran corner to corner to the balcony beyond. The Temple gardens grew just past the rail. As usual whenever I slept dirtside, once the sun was up I found it impossible to go back to sleep. I slipped from under the comforter for the balcony. The sun painted dapples on the wood beneath my bare feet, warm and cool at once. We were high enough off the ground that we were level with the canopy of the trees and standing very still at the rail, I could watch the birds hopping in the branches, their songs pouring from their throats as they greeted the day.

The cadence of their chatter recalled an old song and the words came back to haunt me:

I'll never know, I'll never know
Why I was taken from the lines and from the others
To board a special train and journey deep
Into the heart of Holy Russia

It's cold and damp in the transit camp
And the air is still and sullen
And the pale sun of October whispers
The snow will soon be coming

And I wonder when I'll be home again
And the morning answers never
And the evening sighs and the steely Russian skies
Go on forever

It was a historical song from my brother's concert repertoire and a personal favorite. He sang it often and it had become something of a signature piece. Dear God, but the irony was bitter.

Nikolai, whispered the breeze. Brother, my heart whispered back. I stared unseeing into the green as the song drifted through my head and I could still hear him singing it. So I stood at the rail in nothing but my nightshirt and remembered the brother I was too late to save.

He'd yank my braids at any given opportunity but he bloodied the noses of outsiders who presumed to do the same. He dared me to go headfirst down the coal chute when I was five and lied for me when Papa caught me emerging banged up but victorious at the bottom. He could take any song and sing uncomplimentary lyrics about me whenever I brought my friends home for study group and tea but God help anyone who spoke ill of me in his hearing. He was the biggest thorn in my side but also my biggest ally. Of my four brothers, my relationship with him was the stormiest, the most complicated. Despite everything, we spent a fair amount of time together. This was especially true when Grisha and Sasha grew into young adults and couldn't be bothered by the babies of the family. Nikolai and I teamed up, devising ways to annoy them, much to our shared amusement. When I signed up for the Navy, the battle lines were quickly drawn. Mother led the opposition, Nikolai backed me, and Father did his best to referee. In the end, Nikolai ran interference for me when I snuck out to report for duty. In the few letters I managed to send home during my tour, I addressed as many to him as I did to the rest of my family. And as he'd had my back all those years growing up, I did my best to have his when everything came crashing down after Highgate and I pursued the only option I felt I had left as a defector with a death sentence on my head.

Stay away. Don't involve him. Keep the family safe.

The morning dimmed and wavered and I blinked back a fresh wave of tears. God, you're a mess. You know what he'd say if he saw you now. Get a grip. Yesterday I learned the news and yesterday I'd cried for him, for my family, and for myself. Over the past three years, I'd slowly chipped away at my emotional defenses and learned to trust the people I found beyond the walls. Nika, Christian, Joshua … through them I found a measure of normal again. Losing Nikolai made retreat attractive, made regression seem reasonable, but in my heart I knew I wouldn't do it. I had thought losing Mike would have me lose my mind. I remained sane. I thought reconnecting with my family would doom them to prison and the firing squad. The opposite proved true. Severe setbacks, but not insurmountable. The woman I'd become was stronger than the woman I'd been, and there would be no retreat behind the trenches and the barbed wire. Retreat would be surrender and surrender was never in my nature.

No more tears. Keep your head clear and your edge sharp. And this time, you're not doing this alone.

I turned away from the rail and the morning beyond it and slipped under the covers where Joshua slept on. A passage from the song followed me and settled behind my eyes as I curled up with the man I loved.

And the evening sings in a voice of amber the dawn is surely coming
The morning road leads to Stalingrad and the air is softly humming

Omar had warned us on Persephone something big was about to happen. It didn't take a genius to realize he meant war was coming. Ships were massing, troops were moving into position, resources were being seized and reallocated—as had been since last summer. The handwriting was already on the wall. It only remained to determine who would hold the pen.

War was coming. In fact, it might already be here. No matter what or when, I had to be ready to face it. And I would face it with defiance, not fear, with plans for a future despite the risk of losing the chance to make it happen. So I held Joshua close and listened to the morning and made my plans for my future. And when he woke I let him know how much I wanted him in it. My gauntlet was thrown, my challenge to Fate declared. To do anything less was surrender … and surrender was never in my nature.



MUSIC FROM THE VERSE[edit]

For those who might be interested, the song Rina remembers is Al Stewart's "Roads to Moscow". I'd like to think that by the 26th century, it had passed into classical repertoire and that Nikolai would have sung it. Listen to it, here






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