Simoom Rising

Chapter Nine

WAVE Orbiting Station
Now

Doric

"It was a dream," Mac said, nursing his 'shine on the rocks at the Officers Club. We had retired there for dinner. "She must have dreamt it all."

"I don't think so," I replied, staring out the large porthole to the planet below, watching the swirling coloured dust move across Simoom's surface. "Records show that she had two kids when she left the Plat and began to live in the Pit."

"Okay, her daughter died, but the rest of it? I just can't believe it."

"I don't know, it felt true to me." The optimum word here was felt. I felt Harmony's frustration, her anger, her heartbreak, her desire to make us understand. Even sitting here in the bar, I could feel the hard metal shelf—her bunk—beneath her, as Harmony lay curled up in her cell on the other side of the Station. Her left hip was aching and she shifted her body, trying to get comfortable, trying to find sleep. Was I imagining all of it? What was happening?

Beside me, Mac shrugged. "It was fluke weather, then—that made the storm stop like that."

"And the fact that the door to the aid station was open and the Pats got lost in the dust?"

"A coincidence."

"And suddenly the tank rained water down, when she had prayed for water to wash?"

"A coincidence."

"Oh, come on, Mac."

"What? They happen, you know."

Bullshit, I thought, shifting my weight on the chair, leaning forward, trying to ease the ache in that left hip of ours. "But what if—"

"No."

"But what if—"

"Girlie, you're fucking crazy."

And I realized I was. Something had gotten hold of me and at that moment the most important thing in the world—in the whole galaxy—was for me to convince Mac of what I barely grasped myself. "Just hear me out. What if the dust heard her wish. No, listen. Somehow, the dust knew what she needed. So, the dust settled, and then blinded the Pit Pats when one of them hit her."

"It's dust. Wind and dust. It doesn't have language—it doesn't have a brain." Mac brushed back his hair from his face. "But let's just say for argument sake you're right, then why did the dust lose the doctors as well? Harmony came there specifically to get help for her daughter. You'd think she'd wish for a doctor."

"Good point," I whispered. "Good point." Harmony help me out here, I muttered to myself, flinging the thought into the air, like you do when you're mulling something over. But then with an involuntary jerk that ran through my body the answer came to me—from Harmony. I didn't know how I knew this—it wasn't like I could hear her voice in my head or anything—I just knew she was sitting up on her bunk, her left hip still ached and she was saying something: "They didn't trust them."

"What?" Mac said.

Shit! Had I spoken out loud? Mac was still looking at me, so I stumbled through an answer, trying to sort out the jumbled thoughts in my head. "The others...the other Pit Rats...they didn't trust those Plat doctors, right? Remember, Mac, when Harmony told us about what happened, she said the other rats didn't want her to take her daughter to the aid station."

He didn't react, but kept looking at me blankly.

I'm not a person to talk with my hands, but I began to gesture wildly, and I had this weird feeling that in her cell Harmony was making the same gestures. People around us were staring, but I couldn't stop, I wanted to reach across and shake Mac. "Don't you see, the dust is like a...a conduit. It picks up people's thoughts and emotions and moves them from person to person. The dust didn't hear Harmony's wishes, the other rats did. They told the dust to settle. They told it to open the door to the aid station and crack open the water tank, but because they didn't trust the doctors or the Pats, they told the dust to make them lose their way."

"What are you doing?" Without me realizing it, I had stood up, and now Mac pulled me back down into my chair. "Keep your voice down, Girlie. You're going to get suspended, put on medical leave."

"But Mac—"

"You're not the only one who's read the lab reports. I know the theory is the dust particles have some strange electromagnetic properties that tap into the synapses and neurotransmitters in our brains. I know about pit telepathy, but there's no proof. It's all anecdotal. And even if the other rats heard Harmony's thoughts, how the hell does a group of people control what a dust cloud does? They have telepathy, not telekinesis."

I shook my head. "But they must have. How many times during the blockade did the rats slip past our sentries to raid Plat supplies? How many times did our officers get turned around in the dust the minute they entered the Pit? The rats told the dust what to do. That's got to be it. How else do you explain the once-in-a-century storm season we've been having that's conveniently stopped us from searching for the rest of the Pit Council? The rats don't want those people found. They've kept the dust unsettled. It all makes sense."

"Then why did we catch the three that we did?"

"Well, Mancy gave himself up right away."

"Yes, but Omari and Harmony? If, your theory is right, then the Rats wanted us to catch those two. Why would they want that?"

Another good question.