For Darkness Shows the Stars

if she’d killed Kai with her experiments? What if they were dead already, their cells mutated with Reduction?
    “I mean,” Elliot said, “that I’m aware that things are changing. Maybe too fast.”
    Felicia gave a tiny laugh. “You are the only person your age I know who would say that. Most think it’s happening too slowly.”
    Most people Felicia knew were not Luddites.
    “I should go see my grandfather,” Elliot said quickly, but Felicia stepped in front of the door.
    “You should let him rest.” She regarded Elliot carefully. “You know, dear, he is an old man. He’s lived a long life. Most men would not choose to go on forever, even if they could. It is not in our nature.”
    “‘If they could,’” Elliot repeated coldly. Once they could, and did, and almost destroyed the world. “Where do you draw the line?”
    “ I don’t,” said Felicia, and there was an edge of devil-may-care in her tone. Would she speak so freely in front of Tatiana? Was she trying to learn if Elliot planned to keep her promise to Kai? “Every person must draw his own line. How can I decide for another person what risks he’s willing to take? How can I be the one to decide if he should live or die?”
    “The Lost decided for their children,” Elliot said. “They made decisions that condemned their offspring to Reduction.”
    “They didn’t know. Don’t you think they would never have done it if they’d known?”
    “Is that how you would work?” The words burst from Elliot’s lips. “Would you always know exactly what effect your therapies will have on the people you treat? What effect it will have on their descendants for hundreds of years? Would you be sure they knew the risks before they signed their children and their children’s children’s children up?”
    Felicia stared at her for a long moment and Elliot was afraid she’d gone too far.
    “If we are speaking in hypotheticals, I will say that it’s a wonder the protocols are not relaxed for those past childbearing age, like your grandfather. There is no risk to anyone, then.”
    If Felicia believed that, why didn’t she perform ERV on herself or her husband?
    “I would say—but not to everyone, Elliot—that many Posts believe they’re born with the power to overcome Reduction. Their genes manifested a workaround from birth, and so the protocols don’t apply to them. They are safe.”
    “Safe!” Elliot scoffed.
    “But we are not speaking in hypotheticals, are we?”
    Elliot North stood straight as a rod and faced Felicia, her mouth a thin line. She would not speak. She couldn’t, even now. And maybe that’s why Felicia didn’t seem to be afraid. If Elliot had planned to betray her secret, surely she’d accuse her of it out loud, right? Instead, the youngest of the Norths simply stood in her ancestral home and made cowardly insinuations, because what she wanted to say was too unbearable to form into words.
    Yes. The protocols should be relaxed. They should be broken for my grandfather.
    Felicia looked at her sadly. “My husband would have me be circumspect. He’s not as radical as I am. And neither of us are as radical as the younger generation. Your generation.”
    “You mean your Fleet Posts,” said Elliot. “I don’t think my sister is a radical.”
    “And what about you?”
    Elliot said nothing.
    “Oh, my dear girl. There is so much we could talk about.”
    Elliot said nothing.
    “I trust you. I wish you would trust me.”
    Elliot said nothing.
    Finally, Felicia sighed. “All right. I am leaving now. But I want you to know you can speak to me whenever you want, about anything you want.” She gestured to the closed door behind her. “I know what the Boatwright is to you. I know what you’ve lost, and what you’re about to lose. I am a mother, not just a Post.” She headed off down the hall, her Post-bright cloak making even the polished North floorboards look dingy and old. At the top of the stairs, she paused.
    “Elliot?”
    Elliot dragged her eyes up to the woman’s face, half terrified Felicia would see the tears clinging to her lashes.
    “You should know that you’re exactly the person you think you are.”
    Elliot turned away as the tears escaped. That’s what she was afraid of.

Twenty-nine
     
    ELLIOT BOATWRIGHT WAS RESTING peacefully now. His breathing was even, if shallow, and he made no noise of pain in his sleep. His dark skin seemed paper-thin, his scalp like leaves of old parchment beneath his