said, taking a muffin, wondering where Eleanor had found such a delicacy.
Eleanor arched an eyebrow. “Do you want to talk about her?”
“I do.”
The words came out slowly, but it was not long before entire stories began spilling. On an abstract level, Beka knew she was not sharing anything profound. These were normal reminiscences from a shared childhood. The jokes Jens would crack, over and over, with the punch lines that never came off quite right until Beka begged her to stop. Trailing Jens through school, always one year behind. Watching her from the sidelines. The long arguments about Jens’s enlistment.
“The only boys who ever came to the house did for Jens,” Beka found herself saying. “She would force me to go to parties, tell me that it was good for me, and then I’d lose her for the rest of the night. She had this way of knowing just what to say, how to talk to people. I tried for years to understand it and emulate it, but it never worked for me like it did for her. We thought for sure she’d . . .” Beka paused.
“What?”
Beka shrugged. “Get married. She had a place at one of the Outer Rim academies. She’d find someone there and then we’d go visit her in one of those glass-lattice cities on the Spurs in Inner System.”
“But she enlisted?”
“Yes. It took us all by surprise, especially my parents. There were arguments. And then she was gone. I think my parents were afraid that I would follow her, as always.”
Beka reached for another muffin.
“The strangest thing though, was that it was only then, only through her transmissions home—not the ones to all of us, but the letters she sent to me only—that I finally started to get to know her. I always thought that she was the confident one, but she told me that she had grown up lost. That she had admired me , the one who was always in her shadow.” Beka sighed. “I don’t know if she was happy in the service, but she sounded... more certain of herself than she ever had before. And I realized something I had never seen when we were younger: she was always just playing a part others expected her to play.”
“What did she look like?”
“Imagine me but taller, thinner, and with long chestnut hair instead of this mop here.” Beka tossed her curls impatiently.
Eleanor was silent, watching her intently.
She spoke without tears, but they were there, audible at the edges of the words and in the tightness of her throat. She spoke around them, quietly and steadily.
“You know what I’m afraid of, Eleanor?” Beka pushed her plate away. “It’s not that I won’t know what happened to Jens. Somehow I know that she would know I did the best I could. She would understand. No, I’m afraid that nothing will be the only thing I have to bring back to my parents. They were disappointed in her decision, but once she made it they were also intensely proud. I don’t want to go through all this only to have nothing to give them.”
Eleanor continued to watch her silently. She had sipped her tea but eaten nothing.
“I know what Davis has planned,” Beka finally said, rubbing the bridge of her nose. “At least I think I do. And the thing is- I’m not even sure I care anymore. I’m fairly certain that I’m going to walk into the lab this morning and see something right out of a nightmare. I’m going to see something that’s not supposed to exist any more, something that has been used to terrify children for the past three centuries. And Davis is going to ask me to put human memories in it. And I think I’ll do it, because I need to know too. Just as much as he does.” She paused for a moment. “I never gave my sister enough credit for her decisions. And now all I can do is try to figure out what happened to her. Who killed her, if she’s dead, why, and how to keep it from happening again.”
“You really think you can splice out a ghost’s memories?”
Beka nodded slowly. “And put them where Davis wants.”
Eleanor
Eleanor arched an eyebrow. “Do you want to talk about her?”
“I do.”
The words came out slowly, but it was not long before entire stories began spilling. On an abstract level, Beka knew she was not sharing anything profound. These were normal reminiscences from a shared childhood. The jokes Jens would crack, over and over, with the punch lines that never came off quite right until Beka begged her to stop. Trailing Jens through school, always one year behind. Watching her from the sidelines. The long arguments about Jens’s enlistment.
“The only boys who ever came to the house did for Jens,” Beka found herself saying. “She would force me to go to parties, tell me that it was good for me, and then I’d lose her for the rest of the night. She had this way of knowing just what to say, how to talk to people. I tried for years to understand it and emulate it, but it never worked for me like it did for her. We thought for sure she’d . . .” Beka paused.
“What?”
Beka shrugged. “Get married. She had a place at one of the Outer Rim academies. She’d find someone there and then we’d go visit her in one of those glass-lattice cities on the Spurs in Inner System.”
“But she enlisted?”
“Yes. It took us all by surprise, especially my parents. There were arguments. And then she was gone. I think my parents were afraid that I would follow her, as always.”
Beka reached for another muffin.
“The strangest thing though, was that it was only then, only through her transmissions home—not the ones to all of us, but the letters she sent to me only—that I finally started to get to know her. I always thought that she was the confident one, but she told me that she had grown up lost. That she had admired me , the one who was always in her shadow.” Beka sighed. “I don’t know if she was happy in the service, but she sounded... more certain of herself than she ever had before. And I realized something I had never seen when we were younger: she was always just playing a part others expected her to play.”
“What did she look like?”
“Imagine me but taller, thinner, and with long chestnut hair instead of this mop here.” Beka tossed her curls impatiently.
Eleanor was silent, watching her intently.
She spoke without tears, but they were there, audible at the edges of the words and in the tightness of her throat. She spoke around them, quietly and steadily.
“You know what I’m afraid of, Eleanor?” Beka pushed her plate away. “It’s not that I won’t know what happened to Jens. Somehow I know that she would know I did the best I could. She would understand. No, I’m afraid that nothing will be the only thing I have to bring back to my parents. They were disappointed in her decision, but once she made it they were also intensely proud. I don’t want to go through all this only to have nothing to give them.”
Eleanor continued to watch her silently. She had sipped her tea but eaten nothing.
“I know what Davis has planned,” Beka finally said, rubbing the bridge of her nose. “At least I think I do. And the thing is- I’m not even sure I care anymore. I’m fairly certain that I’m going to walk into the lab this morning and see something right out of a nightmare. I’m going to see something that’s not supposed to exist any more, something that has been used to terrify children for the past three centuries. And Davis is going to ask me to put human memories in it. And I think I’ll do it, because I need to know too. Just as much as he does.” She paused for a moment. “I never gave my sister enough credit for her decisions. And now all I can do is try to figure out what happened to her. Who killed her, if she’s dead, why, and how to keep it from happening again.”
“You really think you can splice out a ghost’s memories?”
Beka nodded slowly. “And put them where Davis wants.”
Eleanor
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