series 01 03 “THE GHOSTS OF MERCURY”

by By Mark Michalowski

  Iris nodded understandingly. “As you say, the romance of the place wears off fairly quickly, but when there’s work to be done you put it aside and get on with things. But recently…” She tailed off, clearly not wanting to revisit the topic of the ghosts.

  “I know.” Annabelle crossed to Iris’s desk and looked around deliberately, as if checking that no one could overhear them. “I haven’t told anyone this at all, but this morning…I saw a ghost.”

  Iris’s eyes at first widened in surprise, but then narrowed, as if she suspected this might be a joke or a trick.

  “No, really I did—and the strangest thing was, it was the ghost of Professor Fournier.”

  Iris’s hand went to her mouth in an almost comic gesture of disbelief. “Oh my Lord,” Iris said. “What…what was it like?”

  “It was dark—and she asked me not to put the light on, so I didn’t really get a clear look, but she had a strong French accent. She told me that she didn’t feel quite right—quite ‘complete’ was the word she used. And then she vanished. Just like that.” It suddenly crossed her mind to ask Iris whether the professor had been interested in poetry.

  “You know,” said Iris instantly. “She was. I love poetry myself, and we once got talking about it. She loved the metaphysical poets, as she called them. I prefer the romantic ones myself—Keats, particularly.” She gave a little mock shudder. “But it makes you feel quite queer, doesn’t it?”

  Annabelle thought for a moment. “You know, the strange thing is that it didn’t—if you’d asked me yesterday how I’d have felt to meet a ghost, I’d have answered quite differently. But there was something very calm about the whole affair. That is peculiar, don’t you think?”

  Iris nodded. “Just a little—the idea of seeing a ghost gives me the shivers, it really does.”

  “You don’t really believe in them, do you?” Annabelle asked.

  “Well…I’m not altogether sure. Oh, don’t get me wrong, Miss Somerset, I’m a good church-goer and a good Christian, and I know there must be an afterlife. But…” She pulled a thoughtful face. “Seeing ghosts here of all places? It just seems so unlikely. And the fact that they’ve only been seen for the last few weeks…I mean, why?”

  “Yes, it does seem too much of a coincidence.” There was an awkward silence and Annabelle realised that she had managed to make some inroads into making a friend—rather than an enemy—of Iris, and should probably quit while she was ahead. “So,” she said brightly. “Breakfast!”

  “Straight across the square and to the left,” Iris said. “The mess hall is there. You can’t miss it.”

  “Thanks so much,” Annabelle said as she crossed to the door.

  “You’ve been very kind,” Iris said as she reached for the handle. “I’ll let your uncle know you were looking for him.”

  “Thank you.” Annabelle paused in the doorway. “I don’t know if you know, Iris, but Uncle Ernest thinks very highly of you. Very highly indeed.”

  “Really?” Iris seemed genuinely surprised.

  “Really. See you later.” And Annabelle was off with a twinkle in her eye.

  2.

  They were just finishing serving breakfasts when she arrived in the long wooden hut of the station’s canteen. A couple of groups of soldiers were sitting, smoking, while they drank their coffee and a few of them nodded at her respectfully. The only person she knew there was Doctor Schell, who leaped to his feet and greeted her effusively.

  “My dear!” he said, shaking her by the hand. “Please join me!”

  Annabelle gratefully accepted the offer.

  “What would you like?” he asked.

  Annabelle looked down at his half-finished plate of sausages, bacon, kedgeree and toast. “That looks splendid,” she said. “And a cup of tea, please.”

  “You get yourself comfy,” said Schell. “Back in a mo.”

  She watched him go and again her thoughts returned to Nathanial, possibly beneath her feet at this very moment. She hoped that he was all right—but yet she felt slightly silly for missing him so much. Maybe it was simply the fact that they’d seen and done so much together that made her see a spiritual connection there when, in reality, it was nothing more than shared experiences. That could easily happen, she knew. And she also knew that the moment they were back on Earth, things could change in an instant. Had that been the reason she’d seized on the chance to visit Uncle Ernest? To keep the journey going? But it would have to end sooner or later, wouldn’t it? And then what? Back to normal life –whatever that was. Back to humdrum routine and seeing the new friends she had been allowed to make at Chatham, and, perhaps if she were lucky, even going to the theatre.

  The return of Doctor Schell with a tray broke her reverie, but he’d clearly seen that she’d been miles away. “Are you all right?” he asked, sitting down. “You look a little bit sad, you know—if you don’t mind my saying.”

  Annabelle put on her best, bright face. “Oh, I’m fine, really I am.”

  Schell gave her a disbelieving look. “Remember,” he said, “I’m a doctor. And we’re notoriously hard to fool.”

  “It’s nothing,” Annabelle said, pouring herself a cup of tea.

  “Hmmm,” Schell said, tucking back into his breakfast. “And where’s that young man of yours?”

  “He’s not ‘my young man’, Doctor Schell,” Annabelle said with an odd mixture of amusement and annoyance.

  “Richard, please. I have enough people calling me Doctor here that I’ve almost forgotten what my first name is.”

  “He’s not my ‘young man’ then, Richard.”

  “Oh, my apologies. I’ve not had the pleasure of meeting him yet. How’s the breakfast, by the way?”

  “It’s lovely, thank you. How strange to be eating kedgeree on Mercury. I must admit, my appetite seems to have deserted me a little since yesterday. Iris was saying the same thing.”

  Schell nodded as he finished off his bacon and sat back with a satisfied sigh, fishing out his pipe. “Yes, it seems to be quite common here. Can’t say it’s affected me, though.” He gave a deep laugh and patted his stomach. “So how’s your uncle?”

  “I’ve barely spent two minutes with him. He seems terribly busy.”

  “Oh, he is. Apparently there’s been some trouble with the insulation on one of the tin miners and he’s afraid that quotas will drop whilst it’s out of action.”

  “So this base is more of an economic one than a strategic one?”

  “I’d say so, yes. Obviously, we don’t want those damn Russians getting their hands on it, do we? So best to keep a foothold here. But yes—it’s all about the money, I’m afraid. Isn’t everything, nowadays?”

  A soldier popped his head through the door. “Doctor!” he called. “She’s here—I mean, the professor. They’ve brought her up.”

  “Splendid!” beamed Schell—a little inappropriately, thought Annabelle, especially considering she was still eating. “I’ll be along shortly.” He pocketed his pipe, unlit.

  The soldier nodded and withdrew.

  “Splendid?” Annabelle asked.

  “Sorry, my dear—so little happens here that something like this does rather make my day.”

  Of course, thought Annabelle, that meant that Nathanial would be back. Something gave the tiniest of skips inside her. She put down her knife and fork, her breakfast barely touched. This planet was really getting to her.

  3.

  “Just on there will be fine, lads,” said Palfreyman, indicating a long wooden table in the hospital.

  The body was still covered with the blanket, and Nathanial wondered whether his response to seeing it in the bright light might be different to down in the caves.

  “Doctor Schell’s going to be here in a minute,” said another soldier, poking his head around the door.

  Nurse Lopez fussed about, lifting up the blanket to take a look at Professor Fournier. Her face revealed nothing, Nathanial noticed: she’d clearly seen death before, probably even
as gruesome a one as this one.

  “I should go and find Annabelle,” Nathanial said.

  “You could sound a little happier about the thought,” Arnaud replied. “She is a delightful woman, you know.”

  “I’m quite aware of how ‘delightful’ she is, thank you,” Nathanial answered a little snippily.

  “And I’m sure she is of you, mon ami.”

  “Oh, don’t start that again,” Nathanial said. “I’ve told you—”

  “I know what you’ve told me. So…if not Annabelle, is there someone special in your life?”

  “I don’t have time for all that nonsense. Oh, I’m sure it’ll happen one day—I’m not such a cynic as you probably believe. But for now, there’s too much to do and see without having to divide my attentions between my head and my heart—as I could imagine you’d probably say when you were waxing poetic.”

  Arnaud grinned. “You should combine the two,” he suggested. “Do you not know any attractive scientists?”

  Nathanial gave him an arch look. “In my experience, the two don’t tend to mix.”

  “Really? Then you should come to France! We have some of the most beautiful and handsome scientists there. Perhaps one of them could, ah, entice you.”

  “I don’t need romance and I don’t need enticing, Arnaud. I’m more than happy as I am, thank you.”

  Arnaud shrugged. “That is your choice to make, but this life can be so lonely without someone special to accompany you, do you not think?”

  “I hadn’t thought about it, to be quite honest. For a complete stranger, you know, you are remarkably interested in my love life—or lack thereof.”

  At that moment, the door opened, and in strode a stocky man, in his forties with an unruly shock of white hair, which reminded Nathanial somewhat of Annabelle’s uncle, Doctor Cyrus Grant.

  “Ah!” he exclaimed, coming over to shake Nathanial’s hand. “You must be Professor Stone! What a pleasure to meet you, sir.” He nodded amicably at Arnaud. “Miss Somerset and I have just been talking about you.”

  Nathanial caught a hint of a grin on Arnaud’s face. “Where is Annabelle, by the way?”

  “Annabelle is here,” came a voice from the door, and Nathanial turned to see her standing there. “Have you missed me?”

  Nathanial felt himself blush as she came over and gave him a peck on the cheek.

  “Oh he has,” said Arnaud cheekily. Nathanial threw him a sharp look which Annabelle couldn’t have failed to see.

  “I was just worried,” Nathanial said to Annabelle, “that you were safe.”

  “I’ve been perfectly safe—well, unless you count being visited by a ghost.”

  Nathanial’s eyes widened. “A ghost?”

  “Just this morning.” Her eyes flicked briefly to the covered corpse. “Professor Fournier’s.”

  “Really?” said Arnaud. “You are sure?”

  “Well, as sure as I can be without having met her before, yes.”

  “Would you like to look at her?” asked Doctor Schell who had lifted up the blanket to check the body, keeping it hidden from the others.

  “It is not required of you,” Nathanial reassured her.

  “I know, but if I don’t, I may never be sure that it really was her ghost I saw, will I?”

  Nathanial couldn’t argue with her logic. “But only if you’re sure.”

  “Oh Nathanial—I’ve seen dead bodies before. Honestly, I’ll be fine.” She placed a reassuring arm on his shoulder and then crossed to the table where Professor Fournier’s body awaited her.

  4.

  It was, Annabelle thought with some relief, a lot less distressing than she had expected. True, she had seen much death before, but considering the way in which the professor had died, the body was surprisingly intact—apart from the damage to the right hand side of her body and a large missing portion of her head. Her nose was broken and her face a purplish, bruised mess. But from the little that Annabelle had seen of the ghost that had visited her in her room just a few hours ago, it was definitely the same person.

  “It’s her,” Annabelle said simply.

  She returned to Nathanial’s side.

  “Are you quite all right?” asked Nathanial and Annabelle turned to say yes when she realised he wasn’t addressing her, but Arnaud.

  “I’m fine, thank you.”

  “Oh, I’m so sorry, Arnaud,” Annabelle said, realisation dawning. “I feel terrible—I’d forgotten that you knew her. My condolences.”

  “Merci, but I am not the least distressed. But still…a great shame. A great, great shame…”

  Annabelle was dying to tell them more about her visitation, but standing over the woman’s body somehow seemed the wrong time and place to do it. It could wait, she decided.

  “This is strange,” commented Doctor Schell, drawing back the blanket now that he obviously felt no one would be too distressed by the sight of the body. He reached out to touch the undamaged side of her face and then held his finger up to the light to examine it. “Some sort of dust. Looks like very fine crystals.”

  “When we found her,” Nathanial said, “she was buried under a pile of rubble that seemed to have been glued together—with a crystalline substance. It seems to have infiltrated her body.”

  A look of alarm passed over Schell’s face, and he quickly wiped the finger on his jacket. “Is it dangerous?” he asked.

  “We honestly have no idea,” Nathanial replied. “She was clearly already dead before the crystals formed around—and in her—so there’s no way to tell. Obviously, if you’re going to perform an autopsy, you should take all the precautions you can.”

  Schell nodded thoughtfully, wiping his finger again. “I shall do—would any of you care to stay whilst I get to work? You’re more than welcome to, you know.”

  “Thanks, but I’m sure that whatever you find will be in your report,” Nathanial said. “Besides, I need something to eat—I think we all do, don’t we? And Annabelle needs to tell us all about her visitation this morning.” He turned to Annabelle and then to Arnaud.

  “I’ve just eaten,” Annabelle said, somewhat apologetically. “Barely. But I’ll come with you—it’d be nice to spend some time together.”

  “Fine,” Schell said, taking off his jacket and putting on a white coat. “Call back later, and hopefully I can tell you more.”

  5.

  The three of them returned to the mess hall in a slightly sombre mood.

  “Everywhere we go,” Annabelle said. “Death and disaster. You don’t think we’re cursed, do you, Nathanial?”

  “You know I don’t believe in curses or any of that superstitious nonsense,” he said with a wry smile. “It’s coincidence, plain and simple. Anyway, how did you get on with those records last night? And you simply must tell us about this ghost you saw.”

  “Get yourself some food and I’ll tell you all about it,” she said.

  So once the two men were equipped with platefuls of food and all three of them with mugs of tea, Annabelle told them all about her spectral visitation that morning. The two men listened in amazement.

  “You actually saw her, then?” Arnaud whispered at the end of the tale. “That’s incredible. I wonder what she was talking about—the part about something being afraid of a poem.”

  Annabelle could only shrug. “I have no idea—she seemed so confused about everything. She didn’t even realise that she was a ghost. But maybe that’s the nature of ghosts: if they’re not aware of their own deaths, why should they not believe they’re still alive?”

  “And she mentioned others, didn’t she?” Nathanial interjected. “Do you think she meant the other ghosts?”

  “That’s the queer part,” Annabelle replied. “At first she clearly wanted me to tell her about them—but then, at the end, I got the distinct impression that these ‘others’ that she said were coming weren’t ghosts at all. Don’t ask me why. That’s just how it felt.”

  “Annabelle,” said Arnaud thoughtfull
y. “Do you remember what time she came to you?”

  “It was about nine, or nine fifteen—why?”

  “Because that was around the time that we began to excavate her body.”

  Annabelle frowned. “I’m not sure I follow.”

  “Think about it.” Arnaud leaned across the table. “She visits you, and then suddenly says that ‘others are coming’—and then she does the vanishing act. Right at the point where we begin to free her body.”

  “You mean that you were ‘the others’?”

  “It would fit the evidence, non? And she vanished as we broke her out of the crystals. So perhaps there is a connection between the crystals and the ghosts?”

  Nathanial shook his head in puzzlement. “But…are you suggesting that she was still alive down there, right up until the moment we brought her out? You saw her body—she’d been dead for weeks.”

  Arnaud leaned back with a sigh, and folded his arms. “That’s true. Then, my friends, we have one hell of a puzzle….”

  Chapter Seven

  “In Which Hermes Is Revealed”

  1.

  “Right,” said Nathanial, pushing aside his tray. “Let’s look at this logically. How do we explain the other ghosts? There haven’t been any deaths here apart from the professor’s.”

  “Perhaps,” Annabelle said, “all of the ghosts are Professor Fournier.” She pursed her mouth up thoughtfully and shook her head. “No, that doesn’t make much sense, either—no one’s claimed that the ghosts they’ve seen have looked anything like her. And remember I caught a brief glimpse of Corporal Heath’s ghost, and that was nothing like her either.”

  They sat in silence for a while—and Arnaud fetched them some more tea. Nathanial took the chance to ask Annabelle if she truly was all right.

  “Of course I am, silly,” she laughed. “A little bit tired, but I’m finding all of this more fascinating than frightening.”

  “Have you seen much of your uncle?”