“The Twenty-fourth Century Ghost”

The following is a ghost short story I had to write for one my English classes. It definitely isn't top notch, but hopefully some people find it entertaining (the afterword is short and abrupt because I had to keep it to one page).

I carried it with me everywhere. The weight of what I had done, no, the weight of what I had failed to do had stayed with me for sixteen years. Sixteen years of missing those secret moments together. Sixteen years of missing her. I had endured though. The darkness I carried had shaped my career, driven me to strive farther than I could have ever possibly imagined. But now, I was finally cracking under the weight. My once stalwart nature was now decrepit. I was rotting from the inside, the darkness consuming me.

I stared hard into the mirror before me. I was met by a gaunt, ragged face marked with a pallid complexion and two sunken, brown eyes. God, I had let myself go. Despite the tightly cropped haircut and beard, I looked nothing like a warship captain on the cusp of promotion. No, I looked like a man trying to survive one more day. One more night. One more encounter with her.

***

Kathryn and I had met the very first day of academy training. She was a tall woman, with jet black hair and shockingly blue eyes. She had a smile that could melt the bit of icecaps which still remained back on Earth. She- well, in short, she was the most beautiful thing I’d ever seen. She had walked into our Introduction to FTL Navigation class laughing with a friend. I sat frozen in my seat, gawking like some sort of ape. After what may have been anything from seconds to eternity, I recovered from my stupor as she and her friend sat down – regretfully - on the opposite side of the classroom. I managed to sneak out of the classroom’s backdoor without anyone noticing. Thankfully, I had been one of the first students to arrive to class and had sat in the back where I had remained relatively unnoticed. Walking back up the corridor, I entered the classroom and confidently strode across the room, taking up a seat adjacent to Kathryn. Feeling I had perhaps been a little too bold in my direct entrance, I decided to do some damage control.

“Is this Intro to FTL Navigation?” I asked, feigning uncertainty.

She turned to face me, her eyes wide with mock concern. “Well I certainly hope so, considering you’ve walked into the room at least twice now.” Her piercing blue eyes now danced with laughter.

I grimaced. I guess someone had noticed my departure after all. Despite the strong feeling of embarrassment which rose into my cheeks, I chuckled and extended a hand. “Jim. Jim Engee.”

She returned the gesture and we shook. “Kathryn Aidanso,” she said, brushing some hair behind her ear with her hand before returning it to her side.

At that moment the professor came on over the room’s holo-projectors and immediately began his lecture, the details fully escaping me. I was too preoccupied, wondering whether Kathryn’s observation should leave me feeling embarrassed or flattered.

***

The year was 2342. I was in my last semester of the Sol Ascendancy Academy and had been stationed with Kathryn on the frontier planet of Horizon. All in all, it wasn’t a bad assignment. Sure, it was a remote and rather primitive planet, but as frontier planets went it was relatively safe, lying parsecs away from any recorded confrontations with the Verlind. Moreover, Horizon itself was beautiful. Verdant, green rainforests, sparklingly blue oceans, and tall, snow-covered mountains dominated the landscape of the nearly untouched planet. It also didn’t hurt that I had been stationed there with Kathryn. We’d become fast friends in our first year of the academy and had been romantically involved soon after. Of course, due to military regs, the true nature of our relationship was a secret to everyone but us.

One night, Kathryn and I laid out on the beach together, her head resting on my chest. We gazed up at the radiating stars above us, listening to the gentle crashes of the waves upon the shore. Who said you could only appreciate a day at the beach? It’s not like we had much of a choice anyway, as we needed to keep our relationship discrete. Enjoying the night atmosphere and each other’s presence, we basked in the silence that had fallen between us. We had already talked plenty tonight. Now we had earned the right to savor the well-earned silence that exists between two people who completely know each other. That comfortable silence, whose presence tells you that you are whole with the other. Finally, she spoke. The silence dissolved, but its warm glow remained.

“We should get back. Someone’s bound to notice we’re gone sooner or later.”

I sighed. “I hate it when you’re right. These new frequent shift changes have really put a damper on our late night escapades. I mean, sure the colonists have been getting unruly, but does command really think they’re ever going to attack base? If the colonists put one toe out of line, the fleet will hit them so fast and hard they’ll be gone before they can even feel it. With the Verlind looming, the SA isn’t going to put up with any rebellious, libertarian crap. Come fight with us, or stay out of our way.”

“I know, Jim,” Kathryn said softly. “But it only takes one idiot to cause a heap of trouble. You should know. Don’t you remember that incident on Artemis Prime in our third year at the academy when you-“

“Ok, ok. Point taken”

She continued on, grinning at my sensitivity. “Besides, just be grateful that we’re not out in the Tingle Arm fighting the Verlind. Now come on, let’s get back to base.”

Later, when we arrived back, I immediately knew something was wrong. The guards at the entrance to the barracks, whom we usually had to sneak past to get back in, weren’t there. Kathryn noticed it too.

“What do you think?” I asked.

“Looks like power’s been cut to most of the base. It’s odd there’s not activity out here though. Maybe some sort of drill?”

"Let's hope that's it," I replied, and a cold, sinking feeling replaced the warmth of our trip to the beach. “You go check the barracks to see if anyone’s around. I’ll check the CIC and see what I can dig up.”

“All right,” she said. “But be careful.”

“Hey, come on. It’s me,” I said with a wink. She shook her head, rolled her eyes, and walked off towards the barracks.

Twenty minutes later I approached the barracks looking for Kathryn. I had learned that a group of radical colonists had somehow managed to capture the two dozen or so military personnel stationed on Horizon. Knowing that they wouldn’t be able to hold the base long from a retaliatory SA strike force, they were holding the hostages somewhere out in the rainforest, probably in a well-hidden bunker, hoping to negotiate military presence off Horizon. Fat chance that would happen.

I had made contact with the incoming strike force via lightcom and they had told me to sit tight. They would have everything under control. All that was left for me was to explain the situation to Kathryn and think up some plausible excuse as to why we weren’t on base when everyone else had been taken hostage. As I was about to open the barracks’ door, I froze, hearing voices.

“Shit. This wasn’t supposed to happen. No one was supposed to be here. I was just gonna sneak in, get some valuables, and get out. I'm not a rebel, I swear I'm not! I just didn't think anyone would notice if a few things went missing tonight, alright?"

“Please,” I heard Kathryn say. “Just take what you want and get out. I won’t tell anyone.” There was fear in her voice.

“Liar,” the first voice said. “If I let you go I’m a goner. You’re gonna spill the beans on me and I’m gonna be strung up just like them rebels.” Wasting no more time I barged through the door, my blaster trained on Kathryn’s assailant.

“Let her go,” I demanded.

“Can’t do that” he snarled, holding an old, twenty-second century style glock to Kathryn’s head and using her as a human shield. “Drop the blaster, or the girl gets it.”

“Jim, please. Don’t do anything stupid. You don’t have to be a hero,” she said.

“Let her go,” I repeated. The man was looking increasingly desperate. He knew that, one way or another, he was running out of time. My stomach churned. I couldn’t give him the chance to do anything stupid. I didn’t want to be a hero, but I needed to be. Seeing an opening, I took it. I exhaled deeply, focused my eyes, and squeezed the trigger.

I missed.

***

I carried her death with me every day. I had escaped justice by blaming the thief, whom I had conveniently killed, for her murder. After all, who was going to believe a dead, supposed rebel over an honorable service member like myself? Instead of allowing the event to permanently cripple me, I used it to drive me. For her I was going to become the best captain I could be. For her I was going to become the hero I had failed to be.

 Sixteen years later I had risen in the ranks to become one of the fleet’s best captains and was under consideration to become a vice-admiral; arguably, one of the most powerful men in the galaxy. I had recently survived a scare with cancer that had been discovered during a routine checkup – you’d think we have finally fully cured it after all these centuries – and was feeling the best I’d felt since before Kathryn’s death. My warship, the Venerator, was on patrol in the Tingle Arm – on lookout for the Verlind whom we mysteriously hadn’t encountered for over a decade – when the dreams began. Every night I began to dream about Kathryn and her death. The dreams grew progressively darker. She would just stare at me, face blood-splattered face and blue eyes wide with shock. One night, having awoken from yet another nightmare in a cold sweat, I decided to give up on sleep and found myself headed to the mess hall for a warm cup of tea. As I turned down one of the ship’s narrow, dimly-lit corridors, I stopped mid-stride.

She looked exactly how I had remembered her for the past sixteen years. Her dark hair fell to her shoulders, her skin pale, but not ghastly. Unlike my dreams however, there was no blood on her face. Her blue eyes showed no surprise at seeing me there in the corridor; rather, her brow was furrowed and her gaze burrowed deep into me, suggesting something I couldn’t quite pinpoint. Was it menace? We continued to stare, our eyes never breaking contact. The silence began to grow. It crescendoed until it screamed out to me. This was not the comfortable silence we had once known together. No, this silence was the silence of accusation. My palms began to sweat and my hands shook uncontrollably. I felt as if I were being swallowed into a void. I was paralyzed, helpless in the now unfamiliar face of what I had once known so well and intimately. Finally, with all the grit I had within me, I tore myself away from the silence’s gravitas.

“I’m sorry” I lamely blurted out. There was no answer. She made no movement. I began to walk towards her, closing the gap between us. “Why are you here?” I asked, my voice shifting from a tone of desperation to one of demand. “What do you want?” I bellowed at her. As I was about to grab her shoulders, a voice from behind startled me, causing me to turn sharply.

“Sir?” a hesitant voice asked, edged with concern. “Is everything all right?” It was Ensign Jenkins, a young communication specialist from Earth on his first assignment. I turned back to face Kathryn but all that greeted me was the corridor wall. She was gone, once again.

“Y-yeah, yes, yes. Every- everything’s fine.” I quickly murmured. “Just, just needed to do some late night, uh, brainstorming out of my, out of my cabin” I said, obviously failing to cover up my behavior. Jenkins didn’t look at all convinced. “You should get back to the comm.,” I said. “Never know who’s going to come calling.”

***

She hounded me. My dreams had turned so dark that I was now hardly sleeping anymore. Worse, when I would wake, she would be there, staring at me in silent accusation, never responding to my questions or pleas. I tried to brush her cheek once with my hand, but my body froze centimeters from her, seemingly preventing me from touching her. She was always there in the night, but wholly unknowable to me.

My work began to suffer. I was losing control of the crew. I heard their whispers as I would walk by them. Their concerned stares followed me wherever I went. I finally decided to visit the ship’s doctor, Callista Stevens. She was one of the best doctors in the fleet and had been assigned to the Venerator after my recent scare with cancer.

            “So, what’s the verdict, Doc?” I tried to ask nonchalantly.

            “You say you’ve been having some insomnia?” she asked. I had left out some of the details of my situation. I couldn’t afford to come clean, not when I’d come so far in my career. One admission that I had been seeing a dead person and I’d have been stripped of command faster than I could I have blinked.

            “Yeah, it’s probably nothing though. Just figured I might as well bring it up since I was due for a checkup anyway.” She looked into my eyes for a brief second. Her face flashed... something, but I couldn’t read it.

            “Well, Captain, I didn’t pick up anything abnormal with my tests so I don’t know what to tell you. If you feel things are getting worse though, please, don’t hesitate to see me.” As I left I noticed her scribbling something down hard into her holo-board. Doctors and their damn charts.

***

I’ve thought about going back to see the Doc since then. I think about it every day. The nights have only gotten worse. Kathryn’s always there now, in the night. I know why too, even if she won’t tell me. She’s come back for justice. I may have escaped it sixteen years ago, but I can’t run forever. Did I really push myself for her sake, or was it just for my own benefit? Was it just my own way of lying to myself to cope with the guilt? Even if it was for her, does she care? She’s dead because of me, because of my failure. A failure for which even the greatest achievements can’t compensate for. Even in the twenty-fourth century, human nature hasn’t changed from what it was in primal civilization. Justice always has and will always be an eye for an eye. A life for a life.

I turn from the mirror and stare out the small viewport into the empty void of space. Tiny pinpoints of starlight are nearly swallowed by the immense darkness. I’ve thought about dumping myself out an airlock. To allow myself to finally be swallowed by the void. God, I hope I fade into nothingness when I die. Anything to escape. I decide the airlock’s not the best way to go though. I’d probably get caught before I could make it out, and whatever happens, this needs to end now. I can’t face another night, can’t survive another encounter with her.

Drawing my blaster from its holster, I raise it to my head. Might as well end this the way it began. If anyone can understand a complete cycle, ghosts must be able to. I exhale deeply, close my eyes, and squeeze the tr-

***

Far away, back on Earth, two men watched Jim’s vitals flat line. “Dammit,” one said. “I really thought he was going to be the one.”

The other man sighed. “You’ve said that about almost every candidate so far.”

“I know, I know,” the first man said, resigned. “It’s just… do you ever feel guilty? You know, about what we’re doing?”

The other man turned to regard the first, his head cocked slightly. “Every day,” he said gravely. After a brief pause he laughed. “Christ no, how would I ever get any sleep? The candidates are necessary. While they may be ignorant of some of the, uh, finer points regarding their service, they all willingly gave their consent when they swore to protect Earth and her colonies.”

“But are they really doing that?” the first man insistently asked. The other man now looked at the first in complete surprise.

“Of course they are” he stated. “You know what’s at stake here. You know we need to find someone to command the fleet against the Verlind.”

“Yes,” the first man said, resigned. “I know that we need someone who can resist the mental influence of the Verlind. Someone who won’t be compromised of his ability to effectively lead and defeat the enemy. But how do we even know for a fact that the Verlind can control or even influence our thoughts? What’s more, why don’t we ever lie to any of the current admirals and make up some bullshit about them having cancer so that we can implant them with cognitive influencing devices?”

The other man began to grow agitated and angry. “You’ve seen the old reports from first contact showing the brain activity of some of the survivors of Verlind attacks. You know perfectly well that PTSD can’t fully account for some of the observed abnormalities. You’ve also seen the battle logs. It would be far too generous to pass off some of the captains’ behaviors as simply irrational.  Do we know for certain that the Verlind can screw with our minds? No, but we can’t take any chances. We need to hit them hard and with everything we’ve got before they come back and finish what they started.”

“And,” he continued on, “you also know perfectly well why we can’t test the admirals’ minds. They’re the ones who commissioned this project in the first place. No way in hell are they going to let us mess around inside their heads.”

The first man sat there, looking unconvinced. Finally, he spoke. “Shall I close the file?”

“Yes, and open up the file on candidate number 378. We need to finish up the 300’s soon if we’re going to get any work done on the 400’s before the end of the year.”

Afterword

            “The Twenty-fourth Century Ghost” came about as a sort of exploration of the question “where might ghosts in a technologically advanced future come from?” The answer which the story provides doesn’t actually drastically differ from modern or past ghost stories. While the exact means and mechanisms of ghost appearances may change with the times, the general theory behind the appearance of ghosts remains the same: the most potent and frightening ghosts arise when our deepest fears and regrets intersect with the right opportunity (often others exploiting for gain). So, while on the one hand this story is unconventional due to its science-fiction setting, it remains conventional in its approach and philosophy of ghosts.

Most of the story deals with Jim’s own fear and regrets. The ghost is clearly born from and dependent on Jim’s own regret and shame towards the night that he accidentally killed Kathryn. It’s hard to feel sorry for Jim’s torment during most of the story. Yes, he is suffering from regret and fear, but it seems that in many ways he brought this predicament on himself. When Jim commits suicide, readers may feel that justice and resolution have been reached. Jim has finally had to pay the price for his dark past. If the story ended here, it wouldn’t be a truly potent and frightening ghost story.

The final section of the story adds the opportunity that the story needs to be potent and frightening. The story becomes scarier not only due to the true malevolence behind the ghost’s appearance (the exploitation of man – albeit, perhaps for a greater good), but also due to the uncertainty readers now have in viewing both Jim and his ultimate fate. Are they now supposed to view him sympathetically due to his exploitation? The reader is conflicted, just like ghost-encountering characters. This story also fits the conventions of ghost stories due to its use of the uncanny, non-linear storytelling, a disturbed individual, and a ghost that is hard to pinpoint.