“Why do you listen to him?” I said with a laugh. “Peter’s hanging around because this is a huge story. He just said that to get at you.”
Murphy arched an eyebrow. “It worked.”
We caught the sound of an approaching transport and froze.
“Come on,” said Murphy, grabbing my hand and pulling me through a curtain of willow branches.
We were always worrying about planet security taking an interest in the beehive of activity buzzing away so far from an official colony. We’d done our best to keep the more obvious signs of our presence under cover of rocks or trees, and everyone in camp knew to hide at the first sound of a transport. But anyone who took a closer look would realize something other than flora and fauna was alive down here.
The transport dropped in and landed, which either meant Garvey was here or we were in serious trouble. Murphy apparently felt confident of the former, because he lifted and pinned me against the tree trunk before the engines had even shut down.
“Ouch!” I protested, shoving at him. “We don’t have time for that.” But my legs betrayed me by wrapping around his waist. I slipped my hands into the sleeves of his T-shirt, where his muscles had bunched from holding me up.
“I don’t need much,” he murmured, settling me on his hips. “Have I told you I adore you in a skirt?” He slid the soft fabric up my thighs. “Ah, and what’s this? Nothing but a skirt … that’s my girl.”
“You’re becoming a master of the five-minute fuck, my love,” I whispered in his ear, unbuttoning his pants.
“Shall I be wounded or flattered?”
“Considering we’re hardly ever alone together, I view it as evidence of your resourcefulness.”
“Darwinian, you might even say.” He eased into me and I gave a contented sigh. Burying his face in my hair, he muttered, “If you can work the words ‘fuck’ and ‘my love’ into another sentence, I’m pretty sure I can break my record…”
* * *
We’d just finished smoothing and straightening ourselves when we saw Hank headed our direction, her host trailing behind. Clara was Hank’s twin sister, and also a recently diagnosed schizophrenic. Their case presented a challenge for detachment that we weren’t sure was possible to overcome.
“Yasmina and Garvey are here,” Hank said as she joined us. “They’ve brought a friend of yours, and they’re all coming over to talk.”
“What friend?” I asked.
I had an irrational fear of Alexis Meng suddenly showing up to wrench Murphy away from me. After Peter’s appearance, it didn’t seem all that farfetched.
“Sarah Oliver. Our spy at the facility you broke out of.”
Murphy and I exchanged nervous glances. As far as I knew, she never visited the camp. I wondered if something had happened.
Looking back across the valley, we saw them crossing one of the new footbridges. We circled around to the front of the garden to meet them.
I reached for Sarah’s hand, and she clasped mine with an uneasy look. “I’m so glad to see you, Sarah. I never got a chance to thank you for helping us.”
“Yas told me it was a close call,” she said. “I’m sorry about that. That asshole wasn’t supposed to get time alone with you. I’m glad you made him pay for it.”
My smile slid from my face. “Do you know … was it over quickly for his ghost?” I hadn’t been able to let go of the fact I was responsible for the death of someone I’d never met. I was haunted by what Mitchell had said about “intensifying pain ending in death.”
“Never even woke up,” replied Sarah. “Vasco gave him too many separation meds.”
I felt only slightly less responsible, but I was relieved it had been painless.
At that point Peter reappeared and we spent a few minutes on greetings and introductions. Peter’s continual presence had been a little hard on Murphy, but it had created an effect I’d come to appreciate—any time Peter was around, Murphy kept at least one hand on me. I don’t think he was even aware he was doing it. I smiled as I felt his fingers settle between my shoulder blades.
“What brings the two of you to camp?” asked Murphy. I glanced at Sarah’s brother, Zack, who stood off to one side, arms crossed, looking grim as ever.
We’d questioned Gavin closely about all of Blake’s colonist contacts, trying to assess which of them we could still rely on with him out of the picture. We’d learned they weren’t allowed to visit the camp because they couldn’t follow Blake’s version of the protocol and still be useful to him. It was the worst kind of hypocrisy, but the people in power on Ardagh 1 seemed to mold the rules to fit their needs. It had been the same at the Symbiont Research Institute, where they’d separated Murphy and me for his violation of the Ghost Protocol, but Mitchell herself had interacted with me on a regular basis.
“I’m done with Mitchell,” Sarah replied. “I don’t want to live in that shithole anymore. Yas thought you might have room for us here.”
“Sarah and Zack could use your help,” Yasmina added. Sarah frowned, but made no comment.
One more tough detachment case to deal with, plus losing our eyes and ears at the institute. But I did want to help them if we could, and we owed Sarah.
“We’ll find room,” said Murphy. “We’re glad to have you.”
Sarah gave him a level look. “I’m sorry about what happened here. I didn’t like you too much at first—I didn’t figure it’d hurt you if he took you down a notch.” Peter chortled appreciatively at this, and I glared at him until he shut up. “I had no idea how things would turn out with Blake.”
“No one could have predicted it,” Murphy replied. “And it’s worked out for the best.” He slipped an arm around my waist, adding, “I’m grateful to you.”
I was about to volunteer Murphy’s services for a welcome lunch, but Sarah continued, “I found out a couple things before I left that I think you may want to know about.”
“About Mitchell?” Peter asked, fishing the video recorder out of his pocket.
Sarah nodded. “Yas told me you figured out detachment. I thought you’d want to know Mitchell figured it out too.”
Goose bumps rose on my arms. I’d been confident Mitchell had all the same information that I had when I left the institute, and I’d always worried this might happen.
“What is she doing with it?”
“She got together a bunch of people and took them to another facility, outside New Dublin. People who were scheduled for separation. She locked all of them up with their ghosts and let them do what they wanted. Pretty soon a handful of them had detached. She sent the colonists back to Earth, and the ghosts to one of the agricultural colonies. The ones run by those big contractors.”
“I don’t understand,” I said. “Why would she do that?”
“She sent them there to work.”
I felt sick. Murphy’s arm tightened around my waist.
“Laborers?” Peter said, moving to stand beside me. He watched Sarah through his camera display. “Slaves?”
Sarah raised an eyebrow at him. “I guarantee you no one’s paying them, if that’s what you mean.”
“You have proof of any of this?” asked Peter.
“No. But I saw the detachment stuff firsthand. When Mitchell figured out how it worked, she sent for some of the security guards from the institute, to try it with us. She offered us all raises if we could pull it off. When I figured out what she was up to, I cut out. A few of the others did too.”
“Unbelievable,” muttered Peter.
I turned to Murphy. “Can she get away with this?”
“Sure she can.” He raised his hand, rubbing his forehead. “I don’t know about on a large scale, but colonists who’ve had to be separated were often sent back to Earth. Their ghosts have always died. She can just farm them out to the contractors instead. Who’s going to know?”
“Why not on a large scale?” argued Peter. “You and your friends in the colonies have everyone convinced the ghosts aren’t human. Who
’s going to care?”
Murphy shook his head. “You know what’s required for detachment. That process will change the way colonists view ghosts.”
“Come on, doc,” Peter scoffed. “It just requires a new level of faking it. Turning two blind eyes instead of one. The Ghost Protocol has made them experts at it. And Jesus, she’s offering them money.”
“It doesn’t matter,” I interrupted. “We can put a stop to it. We just have to go public with our story a little earlier than we planned. When people see the benefits—”
“We need evidence of what Mitchell’s doing first,” said Peter. “This needs to be part of the Devil’s Rock story—contrasting the two approaches to detachment. It’ll fucking seal the deal.” He slipped his camera back into his pocket. “I’m going to visit this facility.”
“You can’t do that, Peter. It’s too dangerous.”
He reached out and grazed my chin with his thumb. “I like that you’re worried about me. But I do this kind of stuff all the time. I can handle one megalomaniac scientist.”
“Don’t be glib about her, Peter. Mitchell doesn’t answer to anyone. You threaten her interests and I have no doubt she’ll find a way to make you disappear. If she can do it to someone like Murphy, she won’t blink at doing it to you.”
Peter glowered. “Thanks for that.”
“What if a bunch of us went?” interrupted Hank. “Peter can get his evidence, and the rest of us can shut down her facility. Bring back anyone she’s holding.”
Peter nodded his approval. “That’s right, we’ve got a cave full of fucking assault rifles.”
“Count me in,” said Sarah.
“Me too,” said Yasmina.
“Now hang on a minute, Yas,” protested Garvey.
“Everyone hang on a minute,” I said.
“You want to stop Mitchell, don’t you, Rose?”
“Of course I do, but I don’t want to see any of us killed.”
“There’s something else I haven’t told you,” said Sarah, fixing her eyes on me. “I was gonna wait until later.”
What now?
“Mitchell went ape-shit when you and the doc escaped—and I found out about her other experiment.” She hesitated, her eyes flickering between Murphy and me. “I found out about your baby.”
I cringed inwardly as Peter’s eyes darted to my face. “Baby!”
I’d never worked up the nerve to tell him. Figured I had plenty of time.
“She hasn’t managed to pull it off again. But she’s got this idea to create some more from the two of you.”
I cleared my throat, but my voice still quaked as I said, “What do you mean?”
“I’ve got a friend in the lab who told me Mitchell took some samples while you were there.”
My heart thudded to a halt. Murphy moved closer, placing a hand on my back.
“You’re sure about this, Sarah?” he asked in a low voice.
“I haven’t actually seen it. The lab tech says Mitchell watches over it like it’s the fucking holy grail. My friend also saw a file with a list of women she plans to use to carry them—what do you call them?”
“Surrogates,” I said, turning to Murphy. “Is this possible?”
“They sedated us both before we left the counseling center. That means there’s time we can’t account for. Anything’s possible.”
Sweat soaked my shirt as I thought about Mitchell digging around in my ovaries.
“She said it never worked in the lab before,” I said, grasping. “That’s why we had to…”
“Do you think that’s going to stop her from trying? What if it’s different with us? Maybe it works this time.” He threaded a hand into my hair. “I’ll have to go with Peter.”
“Murphy, no.”
Peter’s hand closed over my arm. “Am I hearing that this asshole got you pregnant for an experiment?” Both Peter and Murphy had their hands on me, and this activated our empathic channel. So far this ability seemed to be unique to Murphy and me. Unfortunately we’d yet to discover a way to block it, so we caught a wave of raw anger and disappointment rolling off Peter.
“Not now, Peter!” I yanked my arm free and grabbed Murphy’s shoulders. “Did you hear me?”
“Christ, Rose, how can you stand for him to touch you?”
I jerked my head around. “It wasn’t his fault! Now shut up.”
“Elizabeth, are you okay with Mitchell cobbling together a baby of ours and sticking it in some other woman?” asked Murphy.
“Jesus, of course not.”
I balled my hands into fists, letting out an angry breath. I closed my eyes, and then slowly I began to nod. He was right. We couldn’t let her do it. “Okay. We’ll all go.”
“No fucking way, love.”
I gaped at him. His eyes were chunks of blue ice.
“Excuse me?”
“Not negotiable. You’re pregnant, Elizabeth.”
“That makes me helpless? This is not up to you, Murphy.”
His hands came to the sides of my face. Not gently. “No? In the two months I’ve known you, I’ve seen you stabbed with a needle, attacked by a rapist, slapped to the ground, and almost shot dead right in front of me. What’s next, Elizabeth?”
Murphy’s grip relaxed, his tone softening as he said, “Listen to me. If you go, I’m going to worry about you every second.”
Choking on anger and fear, I sputtered, “What about me sitting here worrying about you?”
He clasped me to his chest. “I’m sorry, love. We’ll both be safer with you here.”
Detached or not, I felt the planet dropping out from under me at the thought of him leaving me.
“Let’s go find this cave,” growled Peter. “I need to shoot something.”
* * *
Murphy, Peter, and Sarah organized gear and plotted while I sat on the sidelines. Hank, too, much to her annoyance. Murphy had asked her to stay behind in case there were any problems in camp. I suspected she was being left behind to babysit me.
I understood what Murphy was doing. Of course we both worried what Mitchell might be capable of, but Murphy’s motives were more complicated than that. This was a chance for him to make good on his promise to protect me and the baby, and it was an excuse to settle with Mitchell over what she’d forced him to do.
Understanding it didn’t make it any easier.
Based on Sarah’s information, Murphy pulled together twenty-five volunteers. Hardly anyone in camp was trained for this kind of thing, so for the next three days Sarah and Hank taught them how to use the weapons in our arsenal. I watched and listened closely, and I kept out of the way.
But the first time Sarah was away from the others, I slipped off to talk to her alone.
It was necessary to let Murphy feel like he had won. I sulked for a full day, and then I pretended I was getting over it.
In the wee hours of the night before they planned to leave, he climbed into bed with me and took me in his arms. He didn’t speak a word, just started kissing me as he peeled off my clothes.
“Wake up, love,” he murmured.
“I’m awake.”
“Do you forgive me?” His lips and tongue worked slowly down my belly, then dropped between my legs.
“Not fair,” I gasped.
“Shall I let you go back to sleep?”
“In … uh … in a minute.”
“Do you forgive me?” he repeated.
“Um … huh?”
He kept at it until he’d reduced me to a quivering, sighing mass, and while I was thus distracted he crawled up and slipped inside me.
“Hey!” I protested, still convulsing and sensitive.
“Stop?” He lay still, waiting for my switch to flip. He knew me too well.
My hips arched toward him. “Err, maybe not.”
He chuckled in my ear.
“Oh, you think you’re so smart.”
“Now, love, every day I’m taunted at least once by a man who had ten years to learn your b
ody. I’m performing under incredible pressure. You could let me gloat a little.”
I rolled him onto his back, moving with him. “You don’t need to gloat. He’s no match for you.”
He grinned. “Are we talking about the cooking?”
“We’re not talking about the cooking.”
I kissed him deeply, and then I drew back and took his face in my hands. “You do realize that this body has only ever been yours.”
He caressed my cheek, and the smile in his eyes suggested I wasn’t the first one to think of this. “My Elizabeth.”
We made love twice with hardly a breath between. And after, while I was tucked up against him and beginning to doze, he said, “I don’t know how I’ll ever leave you tomorrow.”
My heart withered with guilt.
* * *
Waiting in one of the cramped “smuggler holes” off Garvey and Yasmina’s cargo hold, I turned Murphy’s last words over in my mind, and my conscience continued to flog me. I’d been careful not to lie to him, but I let him believe I intended to stay behind. I’d never deceived him before, and I didn’t like the way it felt.
The compartment was dark and claustrophobic. The muffled voices of the others drifted through the panel, helping me keep my sanity during the three hours I’d deemed to be the point of no return. Murphy still might order them to turn around, and he’d have Peter on his side. But Sarah had been sympathetic to my cause—had smuggled me on board while the others had attended to last-minute details—and I hoped she’d defend me against my current and former loves.
When we were half an hour from landing, I lifted the panel and climbed out. There’d been plenty of air in the compartment, but the first thing I did was suck in a deep breath.
I crossed the hold to join the others, who were gathered around the weapons crate near the portside exit. Murphy, Peter, Sarah, and Ian were missing.
Gavin turned, eyebrows knitting with surprise. “Where did you come from?”
“Belly of the whale, I think.” I gestured to the open panel.
Blake was talking with a couple of the others behind Gavin. The two of them hadn’t detached, but they were doing much better than I’d expected. I still heard them shouting at each other in the evenings sometimes, but Gavin assured us that was pretty much status quo for him and the original Blake.
Ghost Planet Page 26
