Ghost Planet

by Sharon Lynn Fisher

  “They’re some kind of resistance group, aren’t they?” asked Murphy. But it was more a statement than a question, and I couldn’t believe this hadn’t occurred to me. No wonder no one would talk about them.

  Feeling my eyes on him, Murphy looked at me. “There’ve been rumors going ’round about them for months.”

  “Part of the reason we get to work for Kenner is we can keep our mouths shut,” said Garvey.

  Yasmina shot him an angry look. “Sarah works for Kenner, just like we do, Elizabeth. But she wouldn’t have agreed to this if she didn’t believe you’d be safe there. The colony at Devil’s Rock is the only one on the planet that won’t treat you as less than human.”

  “What about Murphy?”

  Murphy’s gaze shifted back to me as Yasmina replied, “Murphy will be fine if he doesn’t make trouble.”

  “That’s enough, Yas,” warned Garvey.

  Devil’s Rock loomed on the horizon. They didn’t have to point it out to us. I’d never seen anything like it: a high, jutting formation of golden-red rock—one monument-sized face with two smaller formations adjacent—creating an enclosed valley with a river snaking through it. The rock fortress was so impressive it drew all my attention at first, but as we got closer I noticed something else. A swath of dry, dead forest surrounded the peaks in a nearly perfect circle. There was an inner ring of char—blackened skeletons of trees that had caught fire. It was like a reverse oasis. An island of desert in the surrounding blanket of green.

  As the transport set down in the char, near the rock fortress, I looked at Murphy. “I think this was a mistake.”

  Despite the angry words that had passed between us—mostly from me to him—he gave me a smile that was meant to be reassuring. “We’ll make the best of it, love.”

  “Let’s go,” said Garvey, rising from his chair.

  We unharnessed and followed him.

  “Good luck, Elizabeth,” Yasmina called softly.

  The cargo door was open, and half a dozen people had boarded the transport to unload the grain. Garvey walked over to speak to them.

  A tall man with a dark beard eyed us, saying, “Blake’s waiting outside for your passengers.”

  Murphy and I headed out alone into the glaring sunshine.

  Before my eyes had a chance to adjust, someone yanked a bag down over my head. I yelped with surprise and reached to remove it, but hands closed over my wrists. A man’s voice sounded above my ear, commanding and deep.

  “Don’t be afraid. We have hidden routes into our base that we don’t share with newcomers. We’ll take the hood off as soon as you’re inside.”

  “Murphy?” My hand flailed out behind me and he caught it.

  “I’m here.”

  “I’ll have to ask you not to do that, Elizabeth,” said the stranger.

  I paused, confused. “Do what?”

  The man took my arm and urged me forward. Murphy squeezed my hand before our fingers slid apart.

  After a few steps the bright light vanished and I felt a cool breeze—a passage through the rock, a cave or a manmade tunnel.

  “Not to do what?” I repeated.

  “Bend down a little.” The man’s hand came to the top of my head. “There, good girl. Not to talk to Dr. Murphy.”

  “Why not?”

  “We have a protocol of our own here. Ghosts don’t interact with colonists. It’s for your own protection and the rest of the camp. I’m afraid I must insist.”

  I stopped walking. “What are you talking about?”

  “I promise to answer all of your questions inside, when I can see your face and offer you a proper welcome. We’re glad you’re safe, Elizabeth.”

  As the man’s hand drew me forward, I felt Murphy’s fingers brush my arm, and I understood the gesture. Take it easy.

  * * *

  The passageway opened out and sun filtered through the thin fabric covering my face. The man gave some directions about the grain, and we continued on for maybe five minutes before he removed my hood.

  Muscular and bronzed by the sun, the man had a head of thick, dark hair, a couple days’ stubbly growth on his chin, and a smoky, penetrating gaze. I judged him to be about the same age as Mitchell.

  He held out his hand to me. “I’m Blake. Welcome to Devil’s Rock.”

  With its dramatic rock walls, the enclosed valley felt like a cathedral. From our slightly elevated position I could see that the river, five or six meters across at the widest point, divided the valley in half. There were more dead trees here, along with some stunted saplings and bushes along the banks of the river.

  Glancing back at Murphy, I was startled to see that his escort had a rifle trained on him. “Is that necessary? We’re psychologists, not convicts.”

  “We’re well aware who you are,” Blake said. “I have to tell you we’re all a little in awe of you here, Elizabeth. I’ve been anticipating your arrival.”

  I wondered whether he was mocking me, but his smile seemed genuine.

  “I don’t understand what you were saying earlier about not interacting with colonists,” I said. “Where’s your ghost?”

  “He’s a ghost,” said Murphy.

  Stunned, I took a closer look at Blake. “Is that true?”

  “Yes, I’m a native. We’ve learned something our friends on the outside haven’t yet. You were probably very close to discovering it yourself before your separation. The protocol can work both ways. You can tip the balance in your favor, if you’re strong enough. And you are, Elizabeth.”

  I stared at him, surprised and dismayed. “Where’s your host?”

  Blake stepped to one side and I saw a man standing in the shade of a crisped cottonwood tree, his hands in his pockets, watching us as a breeze rattled through the dead leaves. He was thin and haggard, his dark-blond hair wildly overgrown, like the ghosts in New Seattle.

  “Dr. Connolly?” said Murphy. The man’s eyes flitted in his direction.

  The guard raised his rifle to strike Murphy and I gave a cry of protest.

  “Easy,” Blake interceded. “We’ll give them some time to adjust.”

  I stood with my mouth hanging open. I don’t know why it should have come as a shock. Yasmina had hinted we were in for something like this. Even Murphy seemed to have expected it. I think when I’d learned they were working on detachment, I’d allowed myself to hope for something better. It never occurred to me ghosts would mirror the folly of the colonists.

  “I know you have questions,” said Blake. “I’d be disappointed if you didn’t. I have them for you as well. But let’s get you to your quarters for now. Let you settle in. We’ll have a late lunch together and talk more then.”

  As Blake started down a well-worn path, I shot an anxious glance at Murphy. He gave a faint nod, and we followed the leader in silence. I needed time to regroup. First Murphy’s revelation and now this—it was all coming at me too fast.

  The sun was high overhead now, but I assumed that much of the time this valley would be in shadow because of the surrounding peaks. As we approached one of the near-vertical rock walls, I saw that a deep overhang ran its length, and that an oblong, modern structure had been tucked into the cleft, pueblo-style.

  “How many of you are there here?” I asked.

  “About sixty pairs, with a pretty steady trickle of new arrivals. We keep a low profile, but the people who need us can find us. I’ll explain about that later.”

  “How long have you been here?”

  “Eight months now. Seems like longer.”

  Murphy and I stopped next to Blake in the shade of the overhang, looking up at the oblong structure. This was the same click-together type of housing I’d seen in New Seattle, though this structure had a much more basic design.

  “Let me give you a quick orientation. This is all prefab, the same housing that’s used by field scientists. We use compact solar cells for power, but we don’t have as many as we’d like, so it’s important to conserve. Hello, Anne.” A woma
n walked past us carrying a basket of laundry, her colonist following close behind. She cast me a curious glance.

  “We collect rainwater and filter water from the river, and we treat and reuse wastewater,” Blake continued. “We have a pretty rudimentary sewage system, so be careful what you put down the pipes. We’re basically pumping it all into a tank buried in the boneyard.”

  I gave him a blank look, and he explained, “The burn zone, just outside. Food for our day-to-day needs is stored in pantries in this central structure, and less perishable food is stored in caves. Take what you need. We operate on the honor system for everything.”

  I was impressed. “You’ve accomplished a lot in eight months,” I said. I wondered how a bunch of ghosts were financing all this.

  Blake smiled. “Come on, I’ll take you to your quarters.”

  We walked to the far end of the structure, and Blake led Murphy and me up a stairway between two of the buildings. There were three levels of living quarters, and he took us to an apartment on the top floor—a single room with a small sofa, fold-down bed, and dining table and chairs. There was also a two-burner cooktop, an oven, and a fridge. A flat-reader rested on the table.

  “Do you have Net access here?” I asked.

  “More or less. We pirate signal from the nearest colony, and updated data is transmitted at regular intervals.” More expensive gadgetry. “For the time being, communication with the outside is restricted to myself. We can’t afford to draw attention to our colony.”

  A pair of reinforced doors on the back wall caught my attention. They’d been fitted with a heavy bolt. “That’s some closet.”

  “Modified for our purposes,” Blake replied. “We recommend you lock them in at night.”

  I blinked at him. “Huh?”

  He walked over and opened one of the doors. It was a closet, with shelves on top and a pallet underneath. Murphy and I exchanged glances—the irony was complete, though my closet had been palatial compared to this one. Murphy would barely be able to sit up in there without knocking his head on a shelf.

  Blake’s gaze flickered to Murphy. “Colonists here know that raising a hand against one of us results in swift and severe punishment. But it’s a good precaution, and I recommend you take it.”

  Finally I caught on. This was about preventing middle-of-the-night murder attempts. After all, the colonists could live without us.

  As I was thinking about frying pans and fires, Blake ran a hand through his hair, sighing. “Listen, I respect you, Elizabeth, so I’m not going to bullshit you. No one’s going to be babysitting you in here. Talk to him if you must. Fuck him if you want to. But outside this door, I don’t want to hear his voice, and I don’t want to see him doing anything but what we tell him to do. If at any point I become concerned about your ability to control him, I will intervene. Do we understand each other?”

  I swallowed. “Yeah.”

  “Good. Now, I don’t want to overwhelm you. I’ll see you at lunch, and we’ll be able to talk privately then. Settle in and rest—you’ve had quite a day.”

  Blake pulled the door closed with a click, and I stood with a numb feeling creeping over me.

  It’s hard to explain what happened next. It had to do with feeling trapped. With feeling caught up in multiple layers of traps, each more difficult to escape than the last.

  I looked at Murphy. “Please stay here until I come back.”

  He searched my face. “You look a little wild, love,” he said in a low, cautious tone. “Where are you going?”

  “I need some air.”

  “So do I. I’ll go with you.” He stepped toward me and I stepped back.

  “Murphy, I’m not asking. Stay here.”

  He folded his arms, continuing to watch me. “Okay.”

  I turned and left the apartment.

  I walked down the stairs, leaving the shade of the overhang, into the bright sunlight. I stepped onto the first footpath I encountered, following it toward the sound of flowing water.

  The first sharp pangs of separation came, but I kept going, clinging to the idea that if I pushed myself long enough, to the limits of my endurance, the cord between Murphy and me might snap. Deep down I knew that I was more likely to snap—Mitchell had already tried this—but my dependence had become intolerable.

  Pain arced like wildfire through my body. Tears blurred my vision until I couldn’t see where I was putting my feet. Sweat ran down my back and the sides of my face.

  The possibility that the new life inside me might be harmed had played no part in my sudden impulse to walk away from Murphy, but as the thought occurred to me, I froze in my tracks.

  There is no baby. No heartbeat. No characteristic identifiable as human or alien in the tiny mass of rapidly dividing cells, most vulnerable in these first weeks after conception. The close monitoring at the institute had given me early awareness of a pregnancy that might not even be viable.

  “Shit!” I choked out, falling to my knees.

  The pain in my gut was overtaken by a skull-cracking migraine, and I sank all the way to the ground with a moan of agony.

  “Elizabeth?” An urgent, not-Murphy male voice managed to insert itself between me and the pain.

  Someone dropped down beside me and I turned my head.

  “Ian?!” My voice hurt my head and I squeezed my eyes closed.

  “Where’s Murphy?” he said sharply.

  “Our quarters,” I rasped.

  “Come on.” He pulled me to my feet and slipped an arm around my waist. “Let’s get you back.”

  He half dragged, half carried me down the trail. The pain receded as we neared the dwelling, and I managed to get my feet under me.

  “Murphy won’t do this again,” Ian said. “When Blake finds out—”

  “It’s not Murphy’s fault. I made him stay behind.”

  He gave me a puzzled look, but didn’t probe further. “Take it slow, I’ve got you.”

  When we were a stone’s throw from the overhang, the migraine relaxed to a steady, dull ache. “I’m okay, Ian—stop for a minute. How is it you’re here? Where’s Julia?”

  Sweat had plastered my hair to my face and he cleared it away. “I’m so glad to see you, Elizabeth. I’ve never stopped worrying about you. As soon as we got here I started harassing them to help you. Blake told me you were coming, but I didn’t know it would be so soon.”

  “How did you—?” I detected movement over his shoulder and glanced up. Julia stood a few meters back on the trail, eyeing us in a vacant way. “What’s wrong with Julia?”

  Ian made me sit on a big rock beside the trail, and he sat next to me. “Julia was in on it, Elizabeth. Lex too.”

  “In on what?”

  “You going to that facility. Your separation. They convinced one of the other psychologists that Murphy was violating the protocol with you.”

  “He was,” I admitted.

  “Those people that took you—they had bugged his office, and I guess they were just waiting for something incriminating before they moved in. I saw the whole thing, Elizabeth. They carried you out of the office unconscious. I went a little crazy—tried to take you away from them.”

  I grinned at him. “Did you really?”

  “It was an idiotic thing to do,” he replied, laughing. “I’m a biology teacher, right? They just knocked me down and kept going.”

  “I was different after that, though,” he continued, sobering. “I mean I was already different, just from my conversations with you. But I was so angry with Julia for her part in it, I refused to take any more crap. It was only a day or two before things started to reverse. She got very skittish around me, and then she started sleeping a lot. Once I had the run of the apartment—and Net access using her login—I spent all my time doing research.”

  “Is that how you found this camp?”

  Ian nodded. “Eventually. After I met you, I decided that somewhere on this planet there had to be others like us. I used my fake alias to join some on
line communities, and it wasn’t long before references to a ‘ghost underground’ started popping up. I had planned to talk to you about it that last day at the institute, but I never got the chance.”

  “How did you end up coming here?”

  Ian reached for my hand, holding it between his. “That’s a long story. I had to make multiple attempts at contact, and even once I got a response, there was a lot of maneuvering to make sure our tracks were covered. Blake has a contact in New Seattle—a woman who works for the bank—and I had to meet her so she could verify who I was. I think what got everything moving was the story I told them about you. They were very interested in Grayson Murphy’s fall from grace, and the ghost responsible for it. Once they’d checked everything I’d told them, they arranged for a shuttle to bring us here.”

  I shook my head, stunned. “You’re amazing. I don’t even know what to say. Thank you for convincing Blake to get us out of there.”

  He shook off the praise. “It didn’t take much convincing. Blake’s really interested in your ghost theories. But we can discuss all that later. Tell me they didn’t hurt you in there.”

  I took a deep breath, unsure whether I was up to discussing all that had happened in the weeks since I’d seen him last. “Not physically, no, nothing like that, but…” A sympathetic friend was the enemy of self-possession. My throat tightened and I didn’t trust my voice to continue.

  Ian watched me teeter on the edge of control and he put his arms around me. I let myself sink against him, exhausted from carrying all the weight of it myself.

  His beard tickled my forehead as he said, “Tell me what happened to you.”

  I started talking—it was easier this way, not having him looking at me—and found I couldn’t stop. The nightmare of the institute, what we’d had to do to get out, Murphy’s decision to help Mitchell, and the consequences—all of it came gushing out of me. I felt him fiddling with the ends of my hair as he listened, never saying a word, until I finally wound down and fell silent.

  Sighing, he said, “I’m so sorry for what you’ve been through. And I can understand why you’re frightened. I don’t blame you for feeling betrayed, but I have to say…”