Ghost Planet

by Sharon Lynn Fisher

  As the pause lengthened, I drew back so I could see his face. “What?”

  Giving me a feeble smile, he said, “You don’t know how tempting it is to tell you what you seem to want to hear—that what he did to you is unforgiveable. But from what you’ve told me, he had the best possible reason for doing it. Maybe he has a hard time saying it, or maybe he doesn’t want to scare you, but everything he’s done … well … I’d do the same to save the woman I loved.”

  “Elizabeth?” My head swiveled at the sound of Murphy’s voice. I wondered how long he’d been standing there. His expression darkened as his eyes took in the situation, traveling up from the suntanned arms encircling my waist to the familiar face.

  “Ian?”

  I felt a pang of guilt about how it looked, and pulled back until Ian’s arms fell away.

  Then Murphy’s eyes focused behind us and he said, “Julia!” She glanced up at him, but there was no flicker of recognition. Murphy stepped toward her. “Are you all right?”

  Ian picked up my hands, drawing my attention back to him. “Promise me you won’t do anything like this again. If you’re wanting to—rectify the situation you told me about, there are safer ways to go about it. There’s a surgeon here in camp.”

  What he was suggesting—it hadn’t even occurred to me as a possibility. I was a ghost. Who would help me with something like this?

  Another ghost might.

  Glancing down, I discovered that one of my hands had moved to my abdomen in a timeless protective gesture.

  I squeezed and released Ian’s hand, and rose to my feet. “It was a stupid thing to do.”

  “Hey,” he said, rising beside me, “I’m supposed to be baiting fish traps right now, but I want to see you again soon. I’d ask you to have lunch if I hadn’t already committed to Blake.”

  “Sounds like we are having lunch. I was invited too. Though I don’t recall that it was presented as optional.”

  Ian smiled. “Blake likes to maintain the appearance of democracy, but he never lets you forget it’s his camp.”

  Murphy had joined us again. I felt his fingertips at the small of my back.

  “I’ll see you soon,” Ian continued. “Maybe we can have a private word or two after.”

  “I’m glad you’ll be there. I have to admit he scares me a little.”

  “Will you come back now, Elizabeth?” Murphy urged, pressing my back. “I’d like to talk to you.”

  Ian raised his eyebrows. “Be careful. You should be scared of Blake. If he catches you breaking the rules, he’ll make an example of you.”

  * * *

  When we reached our quarters, I slipped off my shoes and lay down on the bed. The endless day had taken its toll, and there was still more to come. Not the least of which was getting through whatever it was Murphy wanted to talk about.

  “I found tea,” he said, switching on a hot water kettle. “Can I make you some?”

  “Sure. That sounds good.”

  As he took cups down from the cupboard I realized I was hungry. It was midafternoon and I hadn’t eaten since breakfast. “I don’t suppose there’s any food in there.”

  “That depends on your definition.” Murphy reached in and pulled out something that looked suspiciously like one of the paper-wrapped ghost biscuits, holding it by one corner like it was something nasty.

  I grimaced. “I’ll take it.” He tossed it to me and I removed the paper and nibbled dully at one corner. It wasn’t as bad as I remembered. But it wasn’t good either.

  “Are you feeling okay?”

  I looked at him. Even basic questions like these were loaded now. “I’m fine.”

  All that time I’d spent alone (and lonely) in the institute, and now I would have given just about anything for five minutes to myself to think.

  Murphy came over with my tea. He dragged a chair next to the bed and sat down. We sipped quietly for a couple minutes. I wasn’t used to tea without milk and I scalded my tongue.

  “We should talk about what comes next,” he said, setting his cup on the floor. He rested his elbows on his knees, folding his hands together loosely.

  Relieved this was all that was on his mind, I stretched out on my side, propping my head on my arm. “I’m going to talk to Blake. Tell him that what they’re doing here is no better than the colonies.”

  “I’m not sure he wants to hear that, love.”

  “If he wants me to work with them on detachment, he’s going to.”

  Murphy smiled. “That’s my girl.”

  Before I’d had time to recover from that emotional ambush, he continued, “I want to talk more about that, but first I’d like to ask you something. It’s about what Ian was saying to you.”

  I stared at him, uneasy. Ian had said a lot of things, none of which I was ready to discuss with Murphy.

  “I know I have no right to ask you this, but the baby—”

  “Murphy.” I sat up, shaking my head. “We can’t talk about that right now. I’m tired. I need time to think.”

  He opened his mouth, then closed it. His gaze locked with mine. “I understand. I just wanted you to know that—well, neither of us would have chosen this right now, I know that. But it’s happened, and it means something to me. I hope that you—”

  “I don’t think you do understand.” My voice came out hoarse with exhaustion. “I have something inside me neither of us can define. Something that’s never been alive before. I’m scared.”

  “You and I are not that different, Elizabeth. What is it you’re afraid of?”

  “Aren’t we? What if it’s like me? Dependent on you. Bound to you. Are you prepared for that? And if that’s not enough to scare you, imagine us having this baby and Maria Mitchell taking it from us.”

  His face set, his brow darkening. “That’s never going to happen.”

  I raised my eyebrows. “How can you promise me that? Look at what she’s already forced you to do.”

  There was a sharp knock that made me jump and I got up and went to the door, eager for escape. The thing he didn’t realize—the thing I couldn’t afford for him to know right now—was that I had already started to think of this microscopic glob of cells as our baby. That scared me more than anything.

  “Elizabeth, wait—” protested Murphy.

  But I already had the door open. Ian stood on the narrow landing, with two other men behind him on the stairs.

  “Hi there,” he said, with an apologetic frown. “I know you didn’t get much of a rest. Blake’s ready for us.”

  Ian eyed Murphy as he came to join us. “He wants you to come alone,” he added. “We’re not going far—just up to the ledge.”

  “Okay.” I opened the door and gestured him in. “Give me a minute.”

  I glanced down at his wrist, remembering something I’d noticed earlier. He had a bunch of bands tied there, making him look more like a rock musician than a biology teacher.

  “Could I have one of those?”

  He gave me a puzzled look, but held out his hand. I picked the knot loose on a strip of dark leather and carried it to our postage-stamp-sized bathroom. I gathered my hair and braided it, securing the end with the borrowed cord. Looking in the mirror I discovered dirt on my face, and a splatter of blood on my shirt. There was nothing I could do about the blood, but I bent over the sink and washed my face and arms.

  “Best I can do on short notice,” I said, joining Ian.

  He smiled. “Lovely as always.”

  Murphy moved to my side, taking hold of me so suddenly I gasped. His lips claimed all of my attention, and by the time the kiss ended I’d forgotten we weren’t alone in the room.

  His lips trailed to my ear and he murmured, “Be careful, love.”

  I assumed he was warning me about Blake, but as I looked into his eyes I wasn’t so sure. With a final soft kiss he released me, and I stood waiting for my head to clear.

  Ian touched my arm. “Ready? Blake’s waiting.”

  “Right. Let’s go.
”

  As we exited the apartment and headed downstairs, the two men who’d come with Ian remained on the landing.

  “They’re not coming with us?” I asked.

  “No. They’re here to make sure the doc stays put.”

  I hesitated, but one of the men nodded and waved us on. I continued down the stairs, feeling uneasy.

  “That was for my benefit, you know,” Ian said with a chuckle.

  “What was?”

  “Murphy and that kiss. He might as well have said, mine.”

  I felt a swelling of warmth, but I shook my head. “No, that’s not like him.”

  “Mmm, if you say so.”

  A man and a woman stood near the bottom of the stairs, neither of them whom I expected. “Where’s Julia?” I asked.

  Ian’s smile faded. “In our quarters.”

  I realized these other two must be the hosts of the men above. It was cool in the shade of the overhang, and the woman rubbed her arms. The man took off his jacket and draped it over her shoulders. I thought about Murphy and the storm back in New Seattle. I felt wrong about going to this meeting without him. He’d given up everything for me, and he had a huge stake in this.

  Ian touched my back, guiding me to the right.

  “Are you really doing this?” I asked him. “I mean, are you not talking to Julia?”

  He frowned. “I don’t have anything to say to her.”

  “Come on, Ian. She’s your wife.”

  “Is she?” He shook his head. “I don’t know. Even so, she betrayed me, Elizabeth. And when I finally made a friend, someone who could help me, she betrayed you too.”

  “But you know that’s how it is here. The protocol is mandatory. I would be following it too if I hadn’t died.”

  “But you did die. You’re a different person now. Maybe I am too.”

  “In some ways, yes,” I agreed. “But I’m not sure it’s as simple as that. I’ve never forgotten the story you told me, about the Greek ship.”

  Ian gave me a half-smile. “Blake’s on the ledge just above. Let’s talk about this after.”

  We’d reached the end of the overhang, and we scrambled up some broken rock. At the top we followed the upward slope of the stone to a spot where a keyhole between two rock walls allowed the afternoon sun to stream through. We hadn’t walked far, and I was still a comfortable distance from Murphy. In fact I was pretty sure our apartment was just below the layer of rock we stood on.

  Blake was waiting for us, plates of cold food—cheese, fruit, olives, bread—arranged on a cloth at his feet. There was even a bottle of wine.

  I glanced around and discovered Blake’s host sitting alone against the nearby rock face. Dr. Connolly. I’d meant to ask Murphy how he knew him.

  Blake gestured for us to sit, then opened and poured the wine. “I imagine it’s been a while since you ate, Elizabeth. Please go ahead.”

  Glad I had abandoned the ghost biscuit after a few bites, I started on the real food and Ian did the same. Blake sipped his wine and watched us.

  “Have you done any rock climbing, Elizabeth?”

  I glanced up at him. “I haven’t, no.”

  “That’s too bad.” He pushed an olive around on his plate. His fingers were scraped and raw around the cuticles. “This is an amazing place for it. I’d be happy to teach you. I’m teaching Ian and he needs a partner.”

  I studied him a moment. His expression was open and friendly.

  “Blake, I want to thank you for helping us leave Mitchell’s facility. We couldn’t have done it without your help, and Sarah’s.”

  “You’re more than welcome. I wish we could do something for the others she’s holding, but one day we’ll see an end to facilities like hers.”

  His reply raised a number of questions, but there’d be time for those later.

  “I have to confess I’m surprised to find you all living here much the same as they’re living in the colonies.”

  Blake raised an eyebrow. “You’re referring to our no-interaction policy?”

  I nodded. “I’m not sure I understand the point. Is it intended to be punitive?”

  “I’m actually surprised this is something that requires explanation.” Despite the challenge in this statement, Blake’s demeanor remained friendly. “You’ve seen the ghosts in New Seattle. You know how efficient the protocol has been in subduing them. Everyone here, including you, had to fight to avoid the same fate. None of us is willing to risk giving them the upper hand.”

  “That I can understand,” I admitted. “And I respect everyone here who had the courage to resist becoming like the others. But Sarah and Ian have told me that you’re interested in detachment. If that’s the case, I think we will all have to move past this idea of getting the upper hand.”

  Blake considered this a moment before he said, “Go on.”

  “We discovered something at the institute—something even Murphy didn’t know.”

  I told Blake about the ghost who had detached right after colonization, and our theory about detachment being related to interaction. I’m not sure how I had expected him to react, but I definitely wasn’t prepared for no reaction. I struggled to read past his neutral expression.

  “The Ghost Protocol has been detrimental to us on a number of levels,” I continued. “Your version of it only resolves one aspect. I believe there’s something we need from them, and the only way we can get it is through interaction. I think it’s the key to ending our dependence.”

  “What about the colonists?” asked Ian. “Do you think the interaction benefits them somehow as well?”

  I looked at him. “You’re wondering about what we discussed in New Seattle … mutualistic symbiosis.”

  He set down his glass and leaned back on his hands. “Exactly. If we need them to complete our development—to evolve into independent beings—what do they get from us? Or are we entertaining the idea we might be parasites?”

  This was the dark side to my hypothesis, and part of what I had hoped to keep hidden from Mitchell, who already viewed us as parasites. It was possible that in gaining what we needed for detachment, we might diminish or harm the colonists in some way. I didn’t want to believe it, but I had no evidence to the contrary. There was no way of knowing until it happened.

  I was no longer under Mitchell’s thumb, and Ian was a biology teacher. It was time to invite that particular skeleton into the conversation.

  “I think we have to acknowledge the possibility of a parasitic relationship. It’s also possible there might be no effect on the colonists at all. Isn’t there a term for that?”

  “Commensalism. One organism benefits, the other is unaffected. Like birds that eat insects out of earth that’s been churned up by cattle.”

  “It’s an interesting theory,” Blake spoke up finally, “and I can see the appeal. But we know of several pairs who don’t follow either version of the protocol, and there’s been no detachment—Garvey and Yasmina, for example.”

  “You’re right,” I acknowledged. “There’s clearly a missing piece. Murphy suggested a trigger of some kind. But I believe in this idea. I’ve seen even more evidence over the last few days.”

  Blake refilled his and Ian’s glasses and glanced at mine, which was still full. I took a sip. The wine was dry and nice, and God knows I was not averse to artificially induced relaxation, especially after the day I’d had. But hard as I’d tried to remain emotionally disengaged from this pregnancy, I found our baby insinuating its way into my thoughts.

  I told them about my discovery of the strange, spontaneous growth in my room, and how the discussions with Garvey and Yasmina had suggested that balance in ghost/colonist relationships might be the key to restored environmental stability.

  “There’s even more evidence of this here,” I concluded.

  Blake raised an eyebrow.

  “I’m referring to the ring of tree carcasses outside your front door.”

  “Mmm,” Ian murmured, nodding. “She has a p
oint.”

  Blake opened his mouth to reply, but I continued, “Growth initiated by interaction between colonist and ghost seems to me a clear indication we’d all be best served by working together. That’s where we should look for detachment—in mutual respect, in partnership. Mitchell has been trying to force symbionts from their hosts almost since the beginning. I don’t think that kind of approach is going to get us anywhere.”

  Blake slowly shook his head. “I have to tell you, this sounds like a lot of very interesting but unverifiable conjecture to me.”

  “It’s absolutely verifiable. If you just give us a chance to—”

  “What you’re proposing—experimentation with interaction—I’m afraid I can’t allow it.”

  I puzzled over the wall that had just come down. Surely there was enough to my argument to merit more than a flat denial?

  “Just like that?” I said, glancing sidelong at Ian, who shot me a warning look.

  “You need to understand, Elizabeth—all of us here, Ian included, worked hard to take control of our host relationships. Some of us were in intolerable situations. Honestly, in the colonies all of us were in intolerable situations. Ceding ground to them, even temporarily, could land us right back where we started, and I can’t allow that to happen. Even if it means we have to abandon detachment.”

  I shook my head, confused. “What’s the point of all this without detachment? You’re okay with living like this?”

  “No, we’re not. And we won’t. Eventually we’ll be strong enough to challenge them for control here.”

  My heart sank. Murphy had been right about Blake.

  “But it doesn’t have to come to that,” he continued. “Detachment could make negotiation possible, and certainly it would make all of our lives easier. I’ve invited Ian because I want the two of you to work together. He shared with me the discussions you had in New Seattle. I can see that you’re both bright and creative. You had to think outside the box to come up with these theories. But I’m not convinced you’ve found the answer. Challenge yourself. See what else you can come up with.”

  I stared at Blake as he brushed his hands together and rose to his feet. “You two relax and finish your wine. Someone will clear up the dishes later.” He fixed his eyes on me. “Think about what I’ve said. We’ll talk again soon.”