Ghost Planet Read online

Lex stepped into the living room. There was no wall between the kitchen and the rest of the apartment, so I could see them clearly.

  “Are you sleeping on the couch?”

  Think fast, Murphy. I wondered how often she just showed up at his apartment.

  He started gathering up the bedding. “I did last night. Stayed up late watching an old movie.” As he dropped everything into a chair, Lex sat down on the sofa.

  “So you’re not working at all,” she said with a laugh. “You’re sleeping in.”

  “Hmm, well. Do you want tea? I don’t have any coffee.”

  “I’m fine. Come sit down.”

  Murphy hesitated before walking over and sinking down next to her. Now I was looking at Lex’s profile and the back of Murphy’s head.

  “Where is she?”

  “Who?”

  “Irish!”

  “My ghost? She’s in the kitchen.”

  Lex gazed over her shoulder and I glared at her.

  “Are things any better?”

  “I think so. Would you like to ask her?”

  “Very funny.” She continued to stare at me, adding blandly, “You know, that sweater looks better on her than it does on you.” I pressed my lips together, keeping my expression neutral. She turned back to Murphy. “I think you should come back to the office.”

  “So you can keep an eye on me?”

  “It’s nothing against you, Murphy. Any of us would be struggling with this. I’m really worried about you.”

  “I told you, you don’t need to worry about me.”

  Lex leaned closer, her voice deepening as she said, “It’s an old habit. Can’t seem to give it up.”

  Murphy stared at her, apparently confused by the change in her manner. I understood it perfectly.

  She traced a finger along his cheek, moving to kiss him. The sudden sick feeling in my stomach kept me from appreciating the fact that I had been right about her.

  “Lex!” Murphy sat up. “What are you doing?”

  “I would’ve thought that much was obvious.”

  “You know that’s not a good idea.”

  “No, I don’t. Why?”

  “Do you really need me to explain?”

  Poor Murphy. It was obvious he’d never seen this coming. Lex reached to touch his face again, and I felt like shouting, No means no!

  “Murphy, don’t you miss this? Don’t you remember how good it was? I always thought when we finished school and settled into our careers we might try again.”

  Sounding dumbfounded, Murphy replied, “That’s revisionist history and you know it. We were good for about a month. Then we were a train wreck.”

  Yikes. Go easy, Murphy. (I could afford to be gracious now.)

  “That was ten years ago. We were just kids. We’ve both changed.”

  “We haven’t changed that much.” Murphy got up and stepped away from the sofa. “Where is this coming from, Lex? I thought we had moved on.”

  “Oh, did you?” Anger had usurped the pleading note in her voice. “Do you remember the night of your send-off, back on Earth?”

  Uh-oh.

  Murphy let out a frustrated sigh. “We were drunk. It was just a kiss.”

  “We weren’t that drunk. And if that’s how you remember it, you’re a bastard.”

  “Lex, you’re my best friend.” Now he was pleading. “We’re better as friends. You know we are.”

  She jumped up and swung around the sofa to the door. I watched her, thinking how gracefully her body moved, even when pissed off. She looked at Murphy. “Come back to the office.” It sounded like a threat.

  Murphy stared at the door after it closed behind her. Then he came back to the kitchen and sat down at the table, his brow furrowed in frustration and anger.

  I finished making the tea and carried cups and spoons to the table. When I filled his cup he drank half of it in one gulp. It must have scalded his throat, but he didn’t seem to notice.

  As I sat down next to him he said, “I’m sorry.”

  “For what?”

  “Well, for one, I said I wasn’t going to do that to you again. Yesterday, to be exact.”

  “I don’t think we can fairly call that your fault.”

  He watched me as I poured milk into my tea to avoid looking at him.

  “Second, I’m sorry about—that.” He nodded his head toward the living room. “I don’t even know what that was. But it was certainly very bad timing.”

  “I know what it was.”

  He set his cup down, leaning on the table. “Thank God. Please tell me.”

  “She thinks she’s losing you. First Julia, and now this new ghost who won’t fade away.” I glanced down at his sweater. “This ghost who goes prancing around in your clothes.”

  “But I told you, Lex and I haven’t been more than friends in years.”

  I shook my head. I may have rolled my eyes.

  “What?”

  “You may have a Ph.D., but you’re pretty much as thick as the average male.”

  “Brilliant,” he muttered. But he choked on his tea as he laughed.

  “Murphy, I think we should do what she says.”

  His laughter broke off at my tone and he gave me a questioning look.

  “Go back to the office. Today.”

  “This will blow over with Lex. It’s not a problem. I want to spend a couple days going over your research. I want to discuss your ideas. We can’t do that there. Not yet, anyway.”

  “I’ll give you my notes. You can read them whenever you want. I’d like to look over your patient records—I can do that at the center. We can discuss things in the evenings.”

  He frowned, confused. “Am I being thick again? Wouldn’t it be easier to do it all here, together?”

  I steadied myself against the awkwardness to come. “We need to not be alone together so much. What happened before Lex got here…” I hesitated, gnawing my lip and staring at my teacup. “I can’t do that anymore. It’ll disrupt what we’re trying to do.”

  He cleared his throat. “It’s rather a nice disruption.”

  “I’m not arguing with that.” Now I really couldn’t look at him. “It’s just … I don’t trust it, Murphy.”

  He was silent long enough I finally looked up at him. “You mean you don’t trust me.”

  “This is all happening too fast. You might change your mind about it tomorrow. What if we—if we become involved—and it doesn’t work out? We can’t walk away, like you and Julia did. I don’t know that you’ve really thought this through.”

  He sank back in his chair with a sigh. “Maybe more than you realize. But I warned you, my thinking isn’t very sophisticated when it comes to you.”

  We sat quietly, finishing off the tea, while my emotions swung from one extreme to the other. Finally, choosing my words carefully, I said, “I don’t want us to be more than colleagues. Not as long as I’m bound to you. Does that change how you feel about what we’re planning to do?”

  His eyes darted up, brow darkening. “What are you suggesting, Elizabeth?”

  “Nothing. I just want to be sure you’re doing this for the right reasons.”

  “I gave you my reasons yesterday. They haven’t changed.”

  “Okay. I’m sorry.” I wasn’t sorry for asking, but I was sorry I’d offended him.

  He rose from the table, clearing the tea things and muttering, “I’ll make us some breakfast.”

  Interpreting this as “I need some space,” I returned to the closet and spent some time organizing my research notes so I could hand them off to him for review. He called me when the food was ready, and we ate together like the night before—but unlike the night before, we didn’t have much to say to each other.

  This was an unpromising beginning to our partnership, and I puzzled over whether there was something I could say to smooth things over.

  I thanked him for making breakfast. He nodded.

  I told him my eggs were cooked just the way I liked them. He m
urmured, “Good.”

  I gave up.

  But when we were ready to leave the apartment, he took my arm, stopping me just inside the door.

  “Elizabeth, I want you to know I understand what you were saying earlier.”

  I raised my eyebrows. “You do?”

  “Yes. Of course I do. It’s exactly what I would counsel someone in your position to do.”

  I took a relieved breath. “I appreciate that, Murphy.”

  “I respect you for it, and I’ll support you in it.”

  “Thank you.”

  I thought he was finished, but he hadn’t let go of my arm. He swallowed, blinking a couple of times. His thumb caressed the inside of my wrist before releasing it.

  “As best I can, anyway.”

  * * *

  Everyone seemed to be outside today. The wrathful storm had left spring in its wake—a clear sky, warmer air, and a fresh breeze. On the way to the office we passed people eating their lunch on benches, soaking up the sunshine. I tilted my head back as we walked, feeling the warmth on my face. It was good to be outside.

  Each time we passed a tram platform I saw a break in the long lines of buildings, and people coming and going from the forest. I knew from relocation training that outdoor activity was strongly encouraged on Ardagh 1, for scientists as well as support staff. Exercise and exposure to natural light were important factors in reducing the high rates of depression, especially for colonists subject to the dark northern winters.

  To say the forests here were healthy was an understatement, especially compared to those in proximity to the sprawl of original Seattle. Though farther from that city, along the ragged coastline you could still find relatively healthy conifer forests.

  At least superficially, I couldn’t detect any signs of the deterioration Murphy had referred to, though the violence of the previous day’s storm could be a symptom of climate instability. Earth weather had become more extreme over the last several decades as a result of global warming, and I wondered whether Ardagh 1 was not only mirroring Earth’s genesis, but also its demise.

  As we walked the last block to the counseling center I saw that the pedestrian street was lined with skeletons of deciduous trees—sad remnants of failed landscaping. These trees should all have buds on them by now, but they were nothing more than sticks stiffly scraping the breeze.

  Clustered at the bases of the trees were equally sad-looking flowering plants. As we passed one of the boxes I reached out and touched a single, bright pink impatiens blossom. But it felt dry to the touch, and when I drew my hand away I saw that the blossom was as limp and tawny as its companions.

  Not everyone was outside enjoying the weather—the center bustled with activity. Murphy greeted half a dozen staff members on his way up to his floor. There were breaks in protocol—curious glances, a couple greetings—as most of his colleagues were seeing me for the first time.

  I watched Murphy’s interaction with the others and picked up on a few things right away: everyone appeared to be on genuinely friendly terms with him, and he seemed to have everyone’s respect. These things were difficult to fake convincingly, even when it was prudent.

  We managed to slip into his office without encountering either Lex or Braden Marx, which was a relief. Murphy settled at his desk, pulling my notebook from his bag, and I sank down in his guest chair.

  “Did you want to look at patient files?” he asked. “I can give you my network password.”

  I cleared my throat. “I have your password.”

  Murphy raised his eyebrows in surprise.

  “I guessed it. Sorry.”

  He folded his arms on the desk, eyeing me with amusement. “You’re a handful, do you know that?”

  This could have felt patronizing—but it didn’t. My heart fluttered and I gave him a sheepish smile.

  As I watched him scan the first couple pages of my notes, I thought about the last time I’d been in his office.

  “There’s something I wanted to ask you, Murphy. The scientist Lex mentioned yesterday—Mitchell, I think it was?”

  “Yes, Maria Mitchell. She’s a neuropsychologist.”

  “Is it true she’s studied ghosts?”

  “That’s my understanding. Not much information comes out of her facility. She works for a private contractor, a company that’s tight with some of the high-up ERP administrators.”

  “Mmm, that’s too bad.”

  “Why?”

  “Well, I’m assuming it means we can’t get access to her research.”

  “Not necessarily. I could request access, but under the circumstances it could be risky.”

  “Risky how?”

  He picked up a pen from the desk and turned it in his fingers. “Do you know what a ‘separation’ is?”

  There was that word again. Something about the way he said it made me shiver. “I heard you talking about it with Lex and Braden yesterday. But I don’t know what it means.”

  “It’s a function of Mitchell’s facility that our facility uses sometimes—one that’s not widely publicized. Sometimes we get new arrivals who won’t follow the protocol no matter how much we counsel them.”

  Smiling, I said, “Imagine that.” I meant it as a joke about the irony of our situation, but he didn’t laugh.

  “In those cases, we often order a separation. It gives them a chance to—”

  The door to Murphy’s office hissed open, and we dropped eye contact.

  “Elizabeth?”

  Ian stood in the doorway. He gave me a mischievous smile. “Come out and play with me.”

  Murphy’s pen clattered onto the desk.

  “I think we better play in here today. I’m getting a reputation as a troublemaker.”

  “Aw, that’s why I like you.”

  He bent to kiss my cheek, and we moved to the sofa on the other side of the office.

  I was conscious of Murphy’s attention on us, though his eyes were on his laptop.

  “That’s all well and good,” I said, “but if they keep banishing me from the center I won’t get to see you anymore. I understand our better halves are quits.”

  “Yes, how about that?” He beamed. “I have you to thank for that.”

  I knitted my eyebrows together. “Me?”

  “Julia is in with Alexis Meng, telling her all about how Dr. Murphy let you come between them.”

  Murphy coughed, and I grumbled, “Terrific.”

  Ian glanced at Murphy before frowning at me. “What’s wrong?”

  “That would take a while to explain. Can I ask you a huge favor?”

  “Of course. Anything.”

  “Would you go back and listen in on the rest of it?”

  “Sure, if you like.”

  He started to rise and I reached for his hand. “Thank you.”

  He squeezed my fingers. “I have some other stuff to tell you. I found something I think will interest you. I’ll try to come back before she leaves.”

  “Sounds good.”

  He slipped out of the office, and I blew out a loud sigh, falling back against the cushions.

  “Julia’s venting,” Murphy said. “I don’t think this will come to anything.”

  I looked at him. “God you’ve got those women stirred up, Murphy.”

  “I’d say it’s you that’s got them stirred up, love. We were all quiet as church mice until you showed up.”

  Unlike Lex, I was not immune to blue-eyed intensity. It was almost a relief when the door opened again.

  Two men in gray uniforms strode in, scanning the office until their gazes locked on me. Before I could move they had me pinned back against the sofa.

  “What are you doing?” shouted Murphy.

  I squirmed and kicked, fighting to free myself. I yelped as I felt a jab in my right arm. My chest heaved as my eyes moved over their faces, which were emotionless and focused. They were complete strangers to me.

  I heard Murphy arguing with someone on the other side of his office, but the
words were muffled and confused. Actually, I was the one muffled and confused. The men’s faces fuzzed over and I plunged into blackness.

  Down a Well

  I was alone in the dark.

  But I couldn’t be, could I? Alone was no longer possible for me. Where was the other? The one I could not leave, any more than he could leave me.

  In the perfect stillness I imagined I felt a vibration along that invisible cord. A light trembling, like moth wings on a spider’s web. I could see his face in my mind, and it was comforting to remember he must be somewhere close by. Unless …

  There’d been another like me who’d disappeared without a trace. Had I too been cast aside to make room for a replacement?

  Fear roused my sleeping limbs. The drum of my heart quickened and I felt the blood pumping under my skin.

  Slowly, deliberately, I clawed my way up from the tentacled darkness.

  * * *

  “Don’t you consider her a good candidate for detachment?”

  As I rose toward the surface I heard voices. The animal impulse to assess my situation, to survey my environment for immediate threats, was almost too strong to fight. But I kept my eyes closed and listened.

  “Absolutely. But I’m sure you’re aware those experiments often prove fatal.”

  I heard a scraping sound, like shoes against a smooth floor.

  “Are you getting the sense we may be wasting our time there?” The first voice again—a man with a slight accent.

  “Not at all,” a woman’s voice assured him. “But the same qualities that make her a good candidate for those efforts make me eager to try this first. If we fail, we can move on to detachment.”

  “But you’ve a potentially endless supply of her, don’t you?”

  Rustling, followed by a quiet creak—someone adjusting in a chair. The woman murmured an answer I couldn’t make out.

  “Ah, of course,” replied the man. “I’d forgotten.”

  I now had a guess about who the woman was, but I couldn’t get a clear sense of her relationship to the man. She was deferring to him, but only to a degree. I didn’t think he was her superior.

  “Well, it appears you’ve been typically thorough, doctor.” I could hear the smile in his voice. “I’m prepared to stay out of your way.”

  “Nonsense.” The woman was smiling too. Someone rose from a chair, and then, “We’re always glad to see you here. I feel better knowing we have your support, under the circumstances.”