Ghost Planet

by Sharon Lynn Fisher

  As he left us, Ian’s gaze drifted over to me. “I’m sorry you couldn’t convince him. You’d get my grant money, for what it’s worth. I can’t believe the progress you’ve made after everything you’ve been through.”

  I gave a weary laugh. “I believed I was in a struggle to save my life. It’s a pretty good incentive.” Fixing my eyes on him, I added, “I’m going to do it anyway. I’m not going to go off chasing other options when we already have such a promising one right in front of us.”

  He nodded. “I can’t say I’m surprised to hear that. How will you do it?”

  “I’m not sure yet. Work with Murphy, at least for now.”

  One corner of his mouth twisted up as he toyed with his glass. “I thought you were angry with Murphy.”

  “I am.” It didn’t even sound convincing to me. “I’ll have to shelve that for now.”

  “Sounds like a fun research project. I doubt you’ll have any trouble recruiting your subject.” He flushed as he said this and I had to laugh.

  “This isn’t about sex, Ian. Your brains all work the same, don’t they?”

  “Sadly, yes.” He started to raise his glass and noticed it was empty. I handed him mine. Then both of us were laughing, remembering how I’d let him finish my wine the first night we’d met.

  He turned up the glass and drank half of it. Then he looked at me squarely, his face still flushed. “I’ve been wanting to kiss you all day, Elizabeth.”

  Oh hell.

  He held up his hand. “I’ve been paying attention. I’m guessing it’s not the best idea.”

  “I think you know how much I care about you, Ian. I’m so happy to have found you here. But I—”

  “I know how the rest of this conversation goes. I underestimated Murphy. Before you got here, I was betting he’d let you down. That he wouldn’t be strong enough to choose you over his career. But there’s much more between the two of you than I realized.”

  I picked up the end of my braid, squeezing it in my fist. “I don’t know. He did let me down. And I haven’t forgiven him, not by half.” Dropping the braid, I covered my face with my hands. “But I still can’t breathe when he looks at me. I’m away from him for an hour and I can’t stop thinking about him. I worry constantly that it’s involuntary—that I feel like this because of our bond.”

  “Love, involuntary? How shocking.”

  Swallowing, I glanced up at Ian. “You think I’m in love with him?”

  “I think if you aren’t, you will be soon.” He took hold of my hand. “Be careful, Elizabeth. Don’t let Blake see it.”

  Wounds

  “So you’re ready to give up with Julia?” I asked Ian as he gave me a hand down from the ledge.

  “I thought so. I don’t know. I’ve been so angry since I met you.”

  “That’s great,” I said, laughing. “Bodes well for my future career.”

  Ian smiled. “You know what I mean. You woke me up, Elizabeth. I don’t have any regrets about that. But I don’t know if I can forgive her.”

  “I can understand that. Remember what I said before, though. She was under huge pressure to comply with the protocol, and for good reason. You did some research on colonization, right? Psychological shock. Depression. Suicides.”

  “I know.”

  “I honestly don’t know that they had much choice when all this started. They had to do something to help people adjust. That or abandon the planet. If they had, you and I wouldn’t be having this conversation right now.”

  He lifted his eyebrows. “That never occurred to me. You’ve definitely gone into the right profession. You exceed most people’s capacity for seeing the other side of things.”

  “Well, remember I’ve been on both sides.”

  “It’s more than that. You don’t lock yourself down to one point of view. I admire that.”

  Ian looked a little forlorn, and it made me sad too. The more time we spent together the more I liked him. But I wasn’t torn. I was ready to go upstairs because I wanted to see Murphy.

  “I’m drooping, Ian. I need to rest. But I’m glad we’re going to see a lot of each other. And we can talk any time you feel like it. About Julia, or anything else.”

  He nodded. “You too. I know you’re in a difficult position. Don’t ever feel you’re alone.”

  I stepped toward him. “Will you take a hug instead of a kiss?”

  He laughed, pulling me against him. “I want you to know I’m happy for you. It’s obvious he knows what he’s got, and he’s trying hard to hold onto it.” He kissed the top of my head. “You just have to decide what you want.”

  Ian turned and headed for home, and I started up the stairs, deep in thought. But as I passed the apartment below ours, something caught my eye—something dark protruding from under the door. It almost looked like a sock poking out. On impulse, I went for a closer look.

  Not a sock. Something much more interesting—something alive. I broke off a leafy stem and stuck it in my pocket. After pushing the small bit still visible back under the door, I headed up to our quarters.

  The apartment was dark, but I could make out Murphy stretched on the pallet, which he must have pulled from the closet. He lay on his stomach, splayed oddly, like he’d fallen there.

  “Murphy?” I called softly.

  “Mmph.”

  Something was wrong. I tapped the lightpad once for the dimmest setting. Squatting beside him, I laid a hand on his shoulder. “Murphy?”

  He rolled gingerly onto his side.

  “Holy Jesus.” I froze with shock.

  “That bad?”

  “Oh, Murphy! Who did this to you?”

  His lip was busted to hell and one of his eyes had swollen shut. “Our new friends.”

  I leaned over him, my gut twisting as I looked into his bruised and bleeding face. “Who, Murphy?”

  The charming accent sounded forced through a grater as he answered. “The gentlemen from outside, love. Would you believe I told them I’d been the worst kind of bastard to my girl, and I needed them to make her feel sorry for me?”

  Slowly shaking my head, I said, “Will you please tell me the truth?”

  He drew in a long, labored breath that I could see hurt him. “Well, to begin with, I think kissing you was probably against the rules. I don’t think Ian liked it much either. You know that fella is sweet on you, don’t you?”

  His speech was strange for a man in so much pain—affectionate, and almost giddy. “Do you think you could have a concussion?”

  I grasped his shoulders and rolled him onto his back, and he groaned deeply. “Soft, now, love. There might be a broken rib or two.”

  “Jesus, Murphy,” I muttered. “Ian warned us to be careful. But Blake said he was giving us time to adjust.”

  “Mmm, now that I think of it, we may have discussed one or two other offenses. Apparently I counseled one of their hosts in New Seattle. Maybe both, I forget. Have I mentioned the Ghost Protocol was a sort of pet project of mine?”

  “Okay,” I said with a sigh. “I get it.”

  Rising and crossing to the closet, I dug through the sparse selection of linens until I found a washcloth. I soaked it with cold water and sank beside him again, dabbing blood from his face while he twitched.

  “God, Murphy,” I lamented, “you were a handsome devil.”

  “Thank you, love.”

  “No smiling. Be still.”

  When I had his face cleaned up, I lifted his shirt, gasping over the dark bruises that were already forming. I tried to feel his ribs, but this hurt him so much I gave up.

  Fuming, I rose to my feet again. “I’ll be back.”

  His hand clamped down on my ankle—his grip did not seem to have suffered from the beating. “Where are you going?”

  “To find Blake—or to ask Ian to find Blake. I’ll play along with his protocol games for now, but this is unacceptable.”

  Murphy’s grip tightened. “No, don’t do that. We’ll let it go this time. You�
��ll agree they have some cause for resentment.”

  I could see how earnest he was and I sank down beside him. I touched his swollen jaw, wincing in sympathy. “I wonder if anyone has ice.”

  Murphy reached for my hand and held it. “Just be still for a minute and distract me. How was your meeting with Blake?”

  “A waste of time. We can talk about it later.”

  “Who was there?”

  “Just Ian and Blake, and Blake’s host. I’ve been meaning to ask you—did you know him?”

  Murphy nodded. “I counseled him for two weeks. Then he just disappeared. Security wrote it off as a suicide, but I always wondered. I recognized Blake as soon as I saw him here. He was difficult.”

  I smiled. “Difficult as me?”

  Murphy rubbed my fingers with his thumb. “A different sort of difficult.”

  I’d asked for that, so I had no one but myself to blame for the warmth creeping into my cheeks. I looked down at our joined hands.

  “I know this isn’t the first time you’re seeing ghosts who grew stronger than their hosts,” I confessed. “I saw one of your sessions with Joshua Robbins. Were you ever afraid that might happen with me?”

  “It did happen with some of the colonists who struggled with the protocol. We had to send them home. And yes, I was afraid of you. But not for that reason.”

  “Why, then?”

  “Partly because you forced me to face the possibility that I’d been wrong. That I’d created a policy that had harmed rather than helped.”

  “A lot of other people seemed to think it was a good idea. And it worked.”

  “That doesn’t excuse it. I never questioned my decisions, and no one else did either. I let myself believe the flattering things people were saying about me.”

  “Well, who wouldn’t? But you have questioned. You were the first to question. You could still be sitting in your cushy office, but look at you.”

  A grin spread over his face and he let out a laugh. His lip started bleeding again.

  “You’re making a mess of your face, Murphy. A bigger mess.” I leaned over him and dabbed at the fresh blood.

  “So why else were you afraid of me?” I asked, careful to keep my eyes on his lip.

  But he went quiet and I was forced to look at him. The amusement in his face had been replaced with something else. “Ask me another day,” he said softly.

  “Come on.” My voice was even softer. “No more secrets.”

  His blood-smeared finger came up to caress my cheek. “You’re not ready.”

  The tremor in my heart crept out to my fingers and I folded my hands in my lap. I thought about all I’d said to Ian at dinner. I realized my anger was seeping away, and underneath was fear. Murphy and I were bound by two cords now, neither of which had been joined voluntarily—by either of us. And yet they seemed to be pulling us irrevocably together.

  Murphy was right. I wasn’t ready.

  “I need to sleep now, love. You look spent too. Why don’t you go and lie down for a while.”

  He was giving me an escape, and I needed it.

  “Okay. But you’re too big for this mattress. Let’s get you into the bed, and I’ll lie down here. I think I could fall asleep standing up.”

  “No, the bed’s all yours. I won’t be moving anywhere until morning. Maybe not then.”

  I hesitated, feeling reluctant to leave him, even to lie down less than two meters away.

  Again his fingers came to my cheek. “Do you want to learn a little Gaelic?”

  I smiled at him. “Sure.”

  What he said rolled easily off his tongue, but not mine. It had a sort of husky, tumbling-rock cadence. I repeated it back as best I could.

  “That’s right. It means, ‘Good night, sleep well.’”

  I searched his face for a spot of skin that wasn’t cut or bruised, and finally found one in the hollow under his right cheekbone.

  I touched my lips to it.

  “Now I’ll sleep well,” he whispered.

  * * *

  I’d only meant to nap, but between the exhausting day and the dark apartment I slept right through until morning. I’d gone to sleep wondering if there was any way I’d persuade the surgeon Ian had mentioned to examine Murphy. I assumed he’d meant a ghost surgeon who would have to break Blake’s rules to treat a colonist. But on waking up I remembered something else Ian had told me, a lifetime ago in New Seattle.

  I got dressed as quietly as I could, trying not to disturb Murphy. My hand was on the door when he said, “You going to be okay on your own?”

  Turning, I took a couple steps toward him. His face looked worse this morning, if that was possible—swollen, and smeared with fresh blood.

  I smiled so he wouldn’t see how worried I was. “I’m not going far. When I come back I’ll make you some tea.”

  One building over, Ian had said. I walked to the next narrow stairway and stood wondering if it was too early to start knocking on doors. The sun was just up, and the camp seemed very quiet. I could hear the river, and someone chopping wood. A rooster crowed nearby.

  As I was about to knock on the door of the apartment on my left, someone stepped outside at the top of the stairs. Ian started down, smiling when he saw me standing there.

  “Thank goodness,” I said quietly. “I was about to start waking up your neighbors.”

  “Are you okay?”

  “I’m fine, but I need Julia.” He gave me an uneasy look. “She’s a doctor, right? Murphy’s hurt. I was hoping you could bring her, and a first aid kit if you have one.”

  “What happened?”

  “His guards beat the shit out of him last night.”

  Ian’s face fell. “I’m sorry, Elizabeth. Anything else you need?”

  “Well, breakfast, if it’s not too much trouble. I haven’t had a chance to locate the pantry, and Murphy won’t be leaving our apartment anytime soon.”

  “Okay, go on back. I’ll collect some things and see you soon.”

  I knew what I’d asked was hard. He and Julia weren’t speaking. But I was too worried about Murphy to let that stop me. I went back to our apartment and made tea, and shortly after they joined us.

  “I don’t know about this,” Ian said. He glanced at Julia, who hung back, near the door. “She’s not really herself. I’ve explained what you need, but I’m not sure she understands.”

  I moved toward her, but she pressed her back against the door and I stopped.

  “Murphy, why don’t you say something to her?” Ian and I were both ghosts. Once upon a time she’d been told not to talk to us.

  “Julia, we’ve had a bit of a row in here, and Elizabeth thinks I need a doctor. Do you mind having a look?”

  She took a couple of halting steps toward him and then gasped. “Who—who did that to your face?” Her voice came out low and hoarse, and I wondered how long it had been since she’d used it.

  “Rude couple of fellas. Didn’t give their names.”

  She crouched down and went right to examining him, and now Ian hung back, looking increasingly uncomfortable. I asked him about the first aid kit, and he dug through the container of stuff he’d brought and handed me a metal box.

  “Want to make us all some breakfast?” I suggested.

  “Happy to,” he replied, clearly relieved to be given something to do.

  I knelt beside Julia, opening the box. She pulled off Murphy’s shirt and made him lie back so she could press her fingers along his sides and abdomen. I was so relieved she’d snapped out of it I almost didn’t care that she was curvy and beautiful and had her hands on Murphy’s stomach. Almost.

  But the grunts coming out of him were not the kind that suggested he was enjoying himself.

  “Do you want to soak a pad in antiseptic and clean his face, Elizabeth?” It was the first time Julia had ever spoken to me.

  “Okay,” I replied, fishing the things out of the box.

  “I’ll wash up before I seal those cuts. Though you could pr
obably do that yourself too.”

  “I’d feel better if you did it,” I assured her. “Did you find anything serious?”

  Ian made room for her at the sink and she started scrubbing her hands and arms. “He’s got two broken ribs. Lacerations and contusions. It was a brutal beating, but he’ll live.”

  “Ouch, love!”

  “I’m sorry!” I was listening to Julia and not being very gentle with the antiseptic. “What do we do about the ribs?”

  “Nothing. He just needs to stay off his feet.”

  “For how long?” asked Murphy.

  “Until it doesn’t hurt to get up.”

  I finished cleaning his face and Julia squeezed surgical glue into a cut above his eye and another above his lip. I put the first aid kit back together, and she helped me pull his shirt on, which elicited more grunted protests from Murphy.

  “I’ve had enough healing for one day, thank you.”

  Leaning over him, I smoothed hair back from the cut on his forehead. “Don’t be cranky with Julia. She’s made a house call, and we can’t pay her bill.”

  He slipped his arms around my waist, replying, “Now love, I liked it better when you felt sorry for me. Maybe I need to work up some internal bleeding.”

  “Bite your tongue.”

  I tried to get up to help Ian, but Murphy held me in place, murmuring, “Come closer and bite it for me.”

  “We just fixed your lip!” I laughed, incredulous.

  “Fine,” sighed Murphy, releasing me. “You’ve a hard heart, love.”

  I studied his sulky face. He looked like a little boy who’d gotten the worst of it in a playground fight. It was impossible not to be moved by his efforts to make light of the situation. Not to mention the fact he was in terrible pain and still trying to woo me.

  Bending closer, I took his bottom lip, the least damaged of the two, gently between mine. He gave a moan of satisfaction and pulled me closer.

  Before we could progress to undoing Julia’s repair work, Ian called, “Eggs are done.”

  “Okay, you,” I murmured against Murphy’s lips. “Lie still now and I’ll get you some breakfast.”