“Moderate?” echoed Nathanial.
Ghost Annabelle nodded again. “I appeared to Saul, here, as Corporal Heath, and had him move the dynamite to a location that I knew, from Saul’s mind, would flood the cavern instead.”
Arnaud laughed. “Ha!” he said, turning to Nathanial, his eyes bright. “The water, yes? You see now! The water—it has so much of the metals in it. Like an electrical circuit, connected to all the spheres—and to Hermes itself!” He turned sharply back to the ghost. “The drawbridge that you have just mentioned. Have I understood that correctly?”
Nathanial understood it perfectly now too: Hermes’ fear of being connected—infected—with multiple human minds. Ghost Annabelle had made that fear a reality.
“And what now?” asked the real Annabelle of her ghost. “What happens to us—and to you?”
“You live your lives,” ghost Annabelle said, although her eyes flashed momentarily to Nathanial and Arnaud, and seemed to grow a little darker as they did so. “You are free to go—to have adventures together. You and Nathanial. We, all of us copies, are…” She tipped her head back and let out a sigh of something between bliss and alarm. Nathanial felt himself blush. “We are becoming one with Hermes himself.”
The ghost gave a shudder and emitted a spherical wave of blueish light that raced out from her into the dusklight, thinning and fading as it went. And then another, and another. “The things he has imagined. Oh my Lord…The thoughts he has had…”
“And the others?” pressed Annabelle, squinting a little against the intensifying glare. “They are all there, too?”
“Not all. Some were destroyed in the explosion. But there are enough of us,” ghost Annabelle continued. “We are becoming something more…something greater….” Another globe of light pulsed from her and she turned her head and fixed Nathanial with her gaze. “Nathanial. Dear Nathanial… I know you have secrets. Who doesn’t? But tread carefully. You have the potential for so much good. But so much hurt, too. Please be kind.”
The ghost gave another cry and broke up into the same glittering fragments that had made up Hermes’ form. She was still recognisably Annabelle, but more luminous, more translucent. “We have to go,” she whispered, no trace of a mouth visible. “We have such a journey to make.”
“Please,” begged Annabelle. “Before you go—one thing. Is Uncle Ernest in there? Did he survive?”
The ghost smiled: “He was almost lost, but… It is truly incredible what we can already accomplish now that we are becoming connected.”
The figure snapped instantly into that of Colonel Shawbridge. Still shimmering, still sending off whorls and spirals and waves of blue light. But most definitely Colonel Shawbridge.
“I’m so sorry, my dear Annabelle,” he said, a little dazedly. “I’ve been such a stupid, stupid old bugger, haven’t I?”
“Of course you haven’t, Uncle—” Annabelle began before she was cut off by his raised hand.
“I’m sorry, my dear—there’s no time. I know what I nearly did, and why. But things are changing. I’m seeing everything so differently now. Opens your eyes, I’ll tell you that for nothing.” He gave a gruff chuckle. “And I’ve been such a miserable old sod recently. I’m sorry your trip here has been so…well, like it has been. I just want you to know that I’m proud of you, my girl. And your parents would have been so terribly proud of what you’ve done, who you’ve become. They really would.”
Annabelle held his look, her fingers brushing against the contours of her pocket watch.
“I want you to have a little gift,” Shawbridge continued, “something to remember me by, something to help the two of you out on your journeys. A little more expedient than relying on commercial flyers. It’s nothing much—but you know Esmeralda?”
“Your flyer?”
He nodded, and gave a gasp, sending out wave upon wave of light that flooded the entire beach. “It’s yours. The…the old girl’s not much, but she’s fairly ship-shape. Should get you wherever you want to go next, at least. It’ll be a little piece of me—with you, out there in space, won’t it? More importantly, though, it will save you hanging around here waiting for the next transport. Probably best to just get in it…get in it and go.”
Even though Nathanial could see no eyes, he was certain that the old goat winked at them.
“Best…” Shawbridge said, his voice crumbling, “best not make a fuss, eh?”
Annabelle’s face broke out into a smile—but Nathanial could see the tears blooming in her eyes. “Thank you, Uncle,” she said as the tears began to fall. “And stop damn well apologising! It’s me who should—”
But Shawbridge had been replaced with something else—not Annabelle, not the colonel. Not even Hermes.
Human-shaped, it blazed with an almost painful white light. They all threw up their hands against it, while Nathanial tried simultaneously to shelter his eyes and to peer into it. But something told him not to. That he already knew as much as he was meant to.
“We are grateful to you all,” spoke a deep, sonorous voice in their heads, neither male nor female, young nor old, and so loud that Arnaud and Saul reflexively clamped their hands over their ears. “We don’t know what we’re becoming, but…whatever it is…”
They all heard a tremendous laugh, both rich and warm, and thin and sparkling. Almost imperceptibly tiny and yet incredibly huge.
And in an instant it was replaced by the loudest silence that the planet had ever known.
And they were, once again, standing on the beach, damp and shivering.
Overhead, the arc of light stretched the full length of the World River until it vanished at each horizon.
Epilogue
“In Which Nathanial and Annabelle Bid Farewell to Mercury”
1.
“This feels wrong,” said Annabelle as they stepped out of her bungalow, Nathanial carrying her case for her in one hand and his own in the other, while his satchel hung from his left shoulder. “Like we’re running away. And this,” she gestured at the sky “doesn’t help. It’s like we’re slipping out under cover of darkness.”
“Well, you heard what your uncle said.”
“Best not make a fuss,” she echoed the ghost’s words—and then gave a little shrug. “Maybe he’s right. But isn’t it going to look suspicious? Like we have something to hide?”
Nathanial paused and set their cases down on the ground. “We can stay if you like—and probably have to fill in a dozen forms and answer questions and be interrogated by whoever is going to take over from Shawbridge when they find out that he’s…well, that he’s gone.”
Annabelle wasn’t convinced by Nathanial’s words, but the thought of spending more time on Mercury depressed her. And the thought of being held there while a full investigation was made (and she knew how long the military took over such things) was almost unbearable.
And besides, she knew that she just wanted to be back out there, with Nathanial, exploring and adventuring.
“You sure they’re not going to think that we were responsible for the ghosts and everything and come after us?” asked Nathanial. “Your uncle said that Esmeralda was space-worthy, but I can’t imagine she’s built for outrunning proper ships.”
Annabelle threw him a suspicious look. “There’s no other reason, is there Nathanial?”
“No other reason? What do you mean?”
She shrugged. “Nothing. I’m just a little surprised that you’re not wanting to get together with Arnaud and pull the whole thing to the tiniest pieces.”
Nathanial shook his head and smiled—but it was an odd sort of smile. A little forced, a little too smiley, she thought. But then he had been through as much as she had—possibly more, what with being almost drowned down there. Maybe she was just being silly. After all, Nathanial wasn’t the kind of man to sit around kicking his heels, waiting to be quizzed by some unknown general until the cows came home. And besides, how could she possibly complain that he wanted to spend time with her a
lone?
“This place,” he said, his shoulders relaxing a little. “It’s not actually very nice, is it?”
Annabelle couldn’t help but laugh. “Oh, Nathanial!” she said, feeling the tears welling up for some reason. “No. It’s not very, is it? Promise me we’ll never set foot on this wretched planet again.”
Nathanial just smiled and picked up the cases again. “Come on, Miss Somerset. We have a flight to catch. To somewhere a bit more to our tastes.”
“With more light,” Annabelle said as they set off through the buildings of Princess Christiana Station.
“And gravity,” he added.
“Oh yes! More gravity. Lots more gravity.”
2.
As they reached the flat clearing where Esmeralda sat, in all her faded glory, Nathanial was surprised to see a small gathering, waiting for them. A cursory glance over the aether flyer as they approached the group of well-wishers was rather encouraging, he thought.
Iris was there, as well—perhaps surprisingly—as Joe and Saul. Doctor Schell puffed away on his pipe as a tall, spindly, rather effusive man (who, Annabelle informed him later, was Reverend Lyden) waved his arms about, gesticulating out into space and talking about God.
And, of course, Arnaud.
Something inside him gave a little jolt, and, if he hadn’t already been convinced that leaving so soon was a good idea, then he most certainly was now.
“Ah!” cried Arnaud, a beaming smile on his face. But there was something a little sad in his eyes.
“Arnaud! What’s this—making sure we leave, eh?”
The Frenchman pulled a hurt face, as Iris and Schell gathered around Annabelle and started rabbiting on about something or other. “Oh, you British,” Arnaud said with a shake of his head. “You are not so good, I think, at reading the emotions of the others.”
“Emotions?” Nathanial challenged, as cheerily as he could. “As you’ve just pointed out, I’m British. We don’t have emotions, never mind being able to read other people’s.”
Arnaud’s raised eyebrow brought an unexpected lump to his throat. “Now you know that is not true,” he said quietly. “We all have emotions. But sometimes we just choose to pretend that we do not, n’est ce pas?”
There was a long pause.
“Anyway…” Nathanial broke the silence, looking up at the flyer that was to take them back to Earth, letting his eyes take refuge in its wood and brass form. “It’s been an honour working with you.”
“Likewise, Nathanial. It has been, as you say, an education—in so many ways. And more. It has been a pleasure.”
“Nathanial?” Annabelle interjected, suddenly looping her arm through his. “Isn’t it lovely that everyone’s come to say goodbye. And everyone agrees that we should just go and let them fill in the forms, otherwise we’ll be here until Christmas. Go and say your farewells to everyone, and I’ll say mine to Arnaud.”
Nathanial looked at her. Worryingly.
“Go on!” she laughed, pushing him gently in the direction of the others—who seemed to be nodding approvingly at Esmeralda. “Scoot!”
Nathanial did so, and was soon in the midst of handshakes and hugs and congratulations and farewells. He tried to keep one eye on Annabelle and Arnaud but it was difficult with so many others tugging at his attention. In the end, he gave up.
“You know, young man,” said Schell affably. “If I weren’t the only doctor here, I’d be damn well up for getting aboard that thing and coming with you. A bit of adventure would do my liver a whole deal of good. Not sure I could cope with zero gravity and magnets in my shoes, though.” He patted his stomach.
“You’d be more than welcome, Doctor, but I’m not sure she’s stocked enough for two, never mind three.”
“Oh, Professor Stone,” said Lyden. “Don’t be such a doubter. God will provide.”
“He’s filled the larder and topped up the coal store, has he?” Nathanial replied, hoping he didn’t sound too sarcastic.
“Indeed he has,” Lyden said, holding out his palms to show the coal-dust all over them. “With a little help. That’s why He gave us two hands.”
Everyone smiled.
“Food, medicine,” added Schell. “That last one was my job if you hadn’t guessed, so if you run out of camomile lotion, blame me. Arnaud over there told us everything, and Joe and Saul here have vouched for you and helped top up the coal stores.” He chuckled. “I still think everyone’s been having an attack of the vapours, but… You’re sure that Hermes fellow isn’t going to bother us?”
Nathanial took a deep breath. “Nothing’s certain in this universe, Doctor; but, as a scientist, I can say with some accuracy that your guess is as good as mine. But don’t you already think there’s a change in the air? Like a weight’s been lifted from this place?”
“I can’t argue with you there,” Iris agreed. “I woke with more of a spring in my step this morning than usual. Until I heard the news, of course. Dreadful about the colonel. But….” She smiled sadly and pulled out a handkerchief from the pocket of her cardigan and squeezed it tightly in her hand.
Nathanial put his hand on Iris’s shoulder and gave an awkward squeeze. “I reckon the colonel’s happier now than he’s been for a while, you know. You know what I think he’d like, Iris? I think he’d like you to brighten this place up.” Nathanial looked back at the drab, oh-so-British buildings of the Station. “How about pink?”
“Like in India? He told you about that?”
Nathanial nodded—and Iris really did start to cry. Schell put his arm around her and gave her a squeeze.
“All ready?” asked Annabelle suddenly at his side.
Nathanial looked back at Arnaud, still maintaining a small distance, who winked back and raised one hand to give an understated—and most un-French—wave.
3.
Farewells said, the two of them strode up the boarding ramp, pausing at the stop to wave down to everyone.
“So,” Nathanial said quietly to Annabelle. “Somewhere nicer, yes?”
“And warmer,” she echoed their earlier words.
“More gravity,” he said.
“And,” she added as they turned to enter Esmeralda, “no ghosts.”
No ghosts, thought Nathanial. No more ghosts.
The End
Next Time:
Abattoir in the Aether by L. Joseph Shosty
Acknowledgements
I’d like to thank Frank Chadwick for creating such a fantastic world—and out of just bolts, wood, magnets and steam.
I’d like to thank Andy Frankham-Allen for being patient beyond the call of duty, and helping to fan the flames of my writing ‘spark’ when I thought it had all-but gone out.
And I’d like to thank Tom Lyden for his friendship and thoughtful and useful comments. HUGS!!!!!!
* * *
Mark Michalowski is the author of four BBC Doctor Who novels, a Doctor Who spin-off novel and a BBC Being Human novel, as well as more short stories than he can count (mainly because he’s never been very good at counting). He lives in Leeds, England with half a cat. Not in a macabre way—it’s just that Lulu spends half of her time living in the lap of luxury at various neighbours’ houses. If only humans could do that…
series 01 03 “THE GHOSTS OF MERCURY” Page 19