At first glance this may not read like a Bering & Wells fic, but I promise you that it is, of the epic and inevitable romance variety. And you may get 4 paragraphs in and think that I've written HG to be 30 years older than Myka, but that's not the case either. Just keep reading. :)
This is an idea that's nagged at me for a long time and finally got to the point where it flat-out refused not to be written. I've never done literary world-building like this before, so please feel free to tell me what does and doesn't work for you. The fic is almost completely written. It looks like a 4 or 5-parter that should be posted in its entirety between now and Christmas.
Myka is six years old, the first time she sees her.
Almost every Terran has gathered to watch the Starlings land, as they do every year: thousands of people, like fields of animals, all wearing their best clothing and standing quiet while the loud windy sounds of the engines die down. Myka tugs at her green dress. She doesn't really like dresses and this one is too small for her but Mama said she had to wear it so she's wearing it. Her hand is wrapped tight in her father's grip. On his other side, Mama is holding baby Tracy.
(Last night, Myka heard Papa say, "It will be him, this year, won't it."
"Yes," Mama said back.
"Why the hell should we go tomorrow, then? I'll just want to put my fist through his pretty, twenty-five-year-old face."
"I know. I know, honey, and I understand. But unless we want to both quit being Archivists, you know we have to go.")
Because Mama and Papa are Archivists, they get to stand near the front of the crowds and Myka can smell the metal smell that comes from the smoke that comes after the loud "clack" that means the door of the Starling ship is opening.
The first Starling to walk out is an old man with a beard. He steps onto the walk, stretches, waves to everybody and then goes to shake hands with President Frederic. They shake hands and from where they're standing Myka can only see President Frederic's face when she smiles and touches her fingers to her cheeks, pulling at her own skin.
More come out: a man with a moustache, a woman with red hair in a bun, a man with glasses. Then: a woman. Her hair is so black and shiny it almost looks white in the sun, and Myka wonders what that hair feels like. Is it soft? Could Myka braid it? Myka's Mama taught her to do a braid just last week.
The woman is holding a girl's hand, maybe Myka's age or a little bit older, and everybody is looking at her because she's a Starling and Myka always wonders how Starling kids don't get scared with everyone looking at them but somehow they never do. They just look back and then they go and they talk to the people who are waiting to talk to them, near the front of the crowd. Once, when Myka was four, a Starling picked Myka's family to come and talk to right after she got off the ship, and everyone asked the family about it for days and days.
Myka can't stop looking at the lady and the little girl, watches them when the lady bends down and picks the girl up and carries her on her side the way Mama and Papa sometimes do with Myka when Myka is really tired. That's all she notices until she feels her Papa's hand squeeze tight around her own. That makes her look away, down from the black-haired lady, so she sees the Starling man walking toward them.
"Warren," she hears her Mama says, in the voice she uses that means you are about to get into trouble if you aren't careful.
Papa's hand loosens around Myka's hand.
The Starling is in front of them now. Specifically, in front of Myka's mother.
"Jeannie," he says. He talks a little funny. All the Starlings do.
Mama smiles. "Will." She touches her own face, but gently, like she's pushing a bruise or checking for a broken bone. "It's good to see you."
Papa clears his throat, then lets go of Myka's hand and holds it out to the Starling. "Warren Bering," he says, "Archivist for Literature and the Arts."
The Starling looks away from Myka's mother kind of slowly to look at Papa and shake his hand. "William Wolcott, Agent for Agriculture and Food Systems."
Papa kind of laughs, just once, hard, but not hard like it's funny, hard like it's sharp and pointed. "I know," he says.
The Starling stops smiling and steps back, biting his lip. Then he steps over and crouches down by Myka. "How old are you, miss?" he asks.
Myka leans into her father's leg and she knows her face must be red because a Starling has never ever talked to her before.
"He asked you a question," Papa says. He puts his hand on her shoulder.
"Six," Myka says.
"Six," the Starling echoes. Then he turns, still crouched down, and calls over his shoulder, "H.G.!"
Myka holds her breath because it's the black-haired woman with the girl who turns around, and smiles, and starts walking toward them. Mr. Wolcott stays crouched down with Myka when the other Starling arrives.
"This is Myka, H.G.," he says. "She's the same age as Christina."
"Really?" The woman puts the girl down on the floor and then she crouches down to Myka, just like Mr. Wolcott is doing. "Well, Myka. My name is H.G., and this is Christina. Christina will need a friend while we're here. Would you like to see if you can be friends?"
The woman's voice is low and thick and it makes Myka want to close her eyes and wrap herself in something warm, and she thinks, right now, that she could never say no to anything this Starling said.
But she feels Papa's hand tighten on her shoulder. She looks up at him, then back at the Starling woman. H.G., she thinks, she said her name is H.G.
"I do apologize," H.G. says to Papa and Mama. She stretches her hand up to each of them, but she stays crouched down with Myka and Christina. "Helena Wells, Agent for Engineering," she says, when Mama and Papa shake her hand. Papa calls himself "Archivist for Literature and the Arts," again. Mama calls herself "Archivist for Education."
"We'd be delighted for our Myka to be friends with your Christina," Mama says.
"Wonderful!" H.G. stands up. "I shall leave Christina with you, then, if you don't mind. What time is it?"
Mama looks at her watch. "Thirteen hundred hours."
"Marvelous. Would you be so kind as to bring her to the Agents' housing by seventeen-thirty?"
Mama nods, and Papa grunts.
H.G. smiles big and nods her head. She turns, now, to her daughter. "Christina," she says. "Please be kind to Myka and respect Mr. and Mrs. Bering. I shall see you in a few hours." She bends and kisses Christina on the top of her head. Then she smiles at Myka and Myka's breathing stops, actually stops, for a second. "Thank you, Myka," she says, "Please be kind to my little girl."
Myka can only nod.
Christina stands with Myka and they watch while the two Starlings, H.G. and… Will? Walk away. They don't say anything to each other for awhile, until they are following Mama and Papa back to the Berings' house. Myka is nervous. She doesn't have a lot of friends. Just Pete, really, and that's only because she's known Pete since forever.
"So have you gone to all the seven worlds?" Myka asks.
Christina nods.
"Which one is your favorite?"
"Earth," Christina says. "They have these big trees you can climb on."
"We have trees!" Myka says, hopefully. "Papa said Starlings brought some a long time ago, from Earth, because they can grow here. And my friend's mama Jane is the Archivist for Agriculture and she learned how to make more trees from the trees we already have and now we have a bunch of trees."
Christina's eyes get wide. "You have a forest here?" she asks.
Myka blinks. She has never heard that word before. "I… don't know. But we have trees."
"Can I see them?"
Myka feels herself smiling big, and nods. She tugs her Mama's sleeve. "Is it okay if we go to the trees?"
Mama smiles. "Can you tell me what time it is, both of you?"
Myka looks down at her watch and sees the number and thinks about how to turn them into time. "Thirteen hundred…"
"..and twenty-five," Christina finishes for her.
Myka looks at her, and Christina looks back, and they both smile.
"Can you be at the house by fifteen hundred?"
Myka nods.
"Then go have fun."
There are not enough trees to make a forest, Christina says. And they're way smaller than the trees on Earth. But still, it's pretty good. Christina shows Myka how to climb up the trees and they sit together in the high branches.
"Why do Starlings talk funny?" Myka asks.
"We don't talk funny, you talk funny," Christina says, laughing. "Why do you call us Starlings?"
Myka screws up her face. "That's just… because that's what you are. You're Starlings."
"No, we're Cellarium Agents. Your weird planet just calls us Starlings."
"Well, what do you call us?"
"Terrans, because you live on Terra. What do you call yourselves?"
"Terrans." Myka frowns. "I don't know why you're Starlings. You just are."
They sit quiet for a minute.
"Hey," Christina says, "D'you want to climb down here and play hide and seek?"
Myka smiles. "Yeah!"
They do get back to Myka's house by fifteen-hundred. Myka's Papa is sitting in the living room, reading something, but Myka's Mama makes them a plate of honeyfruit and pieces of sweet choco. The choco melts in their fingers and Myka and Christina smear it on their lips, giggling.
"I'm a fancy lady!" Christina sings.
"Me too!" Myka howls.
Later, when Mama and Papa bring Christina and Myka to where the Starlings stay, H.G. is by the gate, waiting for them.
"Mummy!" Christina calls, and runs to her.
"Hello my darling!" She scoops Christina up into her arms. "Did you have fun?"
"Yessssssssssssss!"
"I can see that." H.G. licks her thumb and rubs a spot of choco from Christina's chin.
"Hope you don't mind she's a little scuffed up," Papa says. "Apparently they were climbing around in the trees, and then my wife fed them treats."
"Of course I don't mind. Children can't have real fun without getting dirty, can they?"
Papa shrugs. "I suppose not."
H.G. looks at Myka. "Thank you, darling, for showing my girl such a wonderful time."
Myka is quickly learning that she can't talk, can barely think, when H.G. is looking at her. So she just bites her lip, and shrugs, and smiles.
That night, after dinner, Myka hears Papa say, "He's trying to antagonize me, isn't he? He's just trying to get my goat, sending that girl home with Myka. With us."
"Warren, you're being ridiculous."
"Am I? Are you sure? That girl had Myka climbing the trees, Jeannie! He's trying to upset the balance our family!"
"Papa, I liked climbing the trees," Myka says. She can't help it. She did like climbing the trees.
Papa spins to look at her. "You're a mess," he says, eyes narrow. "Go take a bath."
The next day, when Myka is at school, there's a knock on the classroom door. The teacher, Ms. Calder, opens it, and talks to somebody in the hallway. And when she comes back into the room, Christina is with her.
"Class," she says, but it's silly because the whole class is looking at her anyway, because everyone knows a Starling kid when they see one, but it's not every day that one shows up in your classroom. "This is Christina Wells. She's going to be joining us until it's time for the Starlings to leave Terra."
Myka can't stop herself from grinning. She lifts her hand up, just enough for it to show over her desk, and waves. Christina smiles and waves back.
"I see you've already got a friend," Ms. Calder says. "Would you like to sit with Myka?"
Christina nods.
The other half of Myka's two-person desk is empty because Myka really doesn't have friends so nobody picked her to sit with. She doesn't really mind. She reads stories at recess anyway. But when Christina comes and hooks her bag on the back of the empty chair and says, "Hi, Myka," Myka can barely hold in the feeling of glee and pride because how many of the other kids can say they have a Starling friend? How many of them?
Christina and Myka play every day at school. Sometimes Pete, who is older and in Grade 2, plays with them also, but usually Pete only plays with Myka outside of school because he has Grade 2 friends to play with in school. Christina and Myka tell stories, and play games, and draw pictures, and whenever they can they go climb the trees. Christina comes to dinner at Myka's house a lot. A few times, Myka goes and has dinner with Christina and H.G. in the place where the Starlings live. Their place is smaller than Myka's house but it's fancier. Everything is new, and clean, and when you walk in it smells like flowers and manna-berries.
One night, Myka is in her nightgown in the living room when there is a knock on the door. Papa had been looking through the library on his comp to pick a story to read, but he puts that down and walks to the answer it.
It's H.G., with Christina, and Christina is crying.
"I'm sorry, I'm so sorry to bother you so late," H.G. says, and Myka wonders how H.G. could ever bother anybody. "It's just—we've received notice that we're to move on tomorrow evening, and Christina has been positively distraught about leaving Myka."
Myka hears this and her heart is beating, it's racing faster and faster. Because of course Christina would be leaving eventually. She knew that, because Starlings always leave. They travel from world to world – it's what they do. And she knows that Christina and her Starlings will come back to Terra, eventually, but that it will be different, then. She doesn't know why. She just knows that everyone says that it's really different, when you see the same Starlings come around again.
So now Myka wants to cry. She wants to but she won't because Christina has dropped her mama's hand and run into the living room and she's saying, "I don't want to go! I want to stay here forever!"
Myka doesn't know what to say. She looks up at Papa, who just shrugs, and then she looks at H.G., who looks like she's going to cry herself. Then she hears a noise and looks at the door to the kitchen and there's Mama.
Mama sighs. "Would you two girls like some honeyfruit?"
Christina nods, and so does Myka. They go toward the kitchen, and Papa and H.G. follow them. Mama makes them a plate of honeyfruit while Papa makes tea for the grown-ups.
"I can't thank you enough for your hospitality," H.G. says. Her voice isn't think and warm, like usual. It's still warm but it's thin, and it shakes, like a tree leaf in the wind. She sips her tea. "It's so terribly hard for the children. They make friends on every world. They have to, if they're to become Agents. But Christina is just coming old enough to understand that these friendships go away. That even when we come back, Myka will be different and they can't ever have this same relationship again."
Papa makes a grunting noise. Mama nudges him with her elbow. She sets down the plate of honeyfruit between Christina and Myka. Myka finds the biggest piece and pushes it to the side of the plate that's closest to Christina. Christina sniffs, and tries to smile, and picks the piece up.
"This will be hard for both of them, I think," Mama says quietly. "Our Myka doesn't make friends easily."
"They are two peas in a pod, aren't they?" H.G. says.
Mama makes a laugh, a weird one. She's uncomfortable.
"I'm sorry," H.G. says, holding her hand to her forehead. "Old world saying. Very old world saying."
"I've seen it in the Archives of some of the old books," Papa says. "I understand. They're alike. They're close."
Myka and Christina hold hands between their chairs, eating their honeyfruit quietly.
"They are," H.G. says, and she sounds so sad that Myka wants to climb into her lap and hug her, wants to press her eyes and nose into H.G.'s neck and make her warm the way Mama sometimes does with Myka when Myka is sad.
The next day, Myka's family go to the Starlings' launch. When the door lifts closed, Myka can't hold it in anymore: she starts crying and can't stop.
"Oh, honey," Mama says, crouching down and pulling Myka close.
"Will we see them again?" Myka sobs.
Mama sighs. "Yes, but it will be different."
"How will it be different?"
"You'll see, honey. You'll see."
That night Myka keeps crying. Mama presses kisses to the top of her head but after awhile Papa gets mad and yells, "If you're going to be like this about it, next time we can just send you with them. Do you want that?"
And Myka doesn't want that, she doesn't want that at all, and that just makes her cry harder because would they send her away when she wants to be here with them and with Tracy? Would they do that?
"Warren," Myka's Mama says. "Stop. She's a child."
Papa shrugs. "It's not my job to be nice to her."
When she is nine years old and in Grade 4, Myka learns about the Starlings and the Archives and how they all work together to help all the people in all of the seven worlds. Because the seven worlds are very different, and people are doing different things in all the worlds, but people want to stay friends. And in order for all the people of all the worlds to get along, they need to share knowledge. So the Starlings are the people of no world: they travel from planet to planet to learn things from the people in one place and teach them to the people in the other places. The Archivists store the knowledge the Starlings bring, and they give knowledge to the Starlings take with them to other worlds. This is why, in the months after the Starlings leave, all kinds of new things happen on Terra: new technology, new medicines, new movies and books, new things to eat.
There are seven ships of Starlings, and each planet receives one ship each year for about a month.
Myka, who loves to learn and to teach, decides right then that she wants to become a Starling.
She says this to her father, who smacks her across the mouth and says "Starlings are good-for-nothing relics of older times who cause havoc and leave other people, good Terran people, to clean up their messes."
Myka touches her lip, comes away with blood on her fingers. "But you're an Archivist, Dad, you work with Starlings all the time."
"That's why I know what they're like. Go do your homework."