Simoom Rising

Chapter Twenty-seven

WAVE Orbiting Station

Now

DORIC

I wiped the wetness from my cheeks and took a deep breath. "How do you even know it was Raquel that grabbed your arm, Ann?" I whispered to the arboretum's trees.

I don't know for sure, but she was the closest to me when the grey blizzard hit. Chances are it was her. I'm so sorry, Vestra, I shouldn't have let her go.

It wasn't your fault.

But—

It wasn't your fault, Ann.

I lapsed into silence—we both did—Ann in her cell and me in the arboretum. I knew she was waiting for me to take the lead. But I had no clue what to tell her. Everything I thought I knew, I was now uncertain about. I transferred to Interrogation to find out who was responsible for Raquel's disappearance and bring the culprits do justice. But who do I blame if everyone present in the Pit that day is collectively guilty? And did the attitudes and prejudices of everyone at WAVE Corp. make this tragedy inevitable? Who are the good guys? Who are the bad? And which one am I?

***

It was late at night when I found myself back at the detention guards' off-camera break room. Mac was there playing poker with Gambo and two others.

"Hey, Doric, what brings you round?" Gambo greeted me. Mac, a glass of 'shine in front of him, just looked at his cards.

"Nothing much," I answered Gambo. "Couldn't sleep. Thought I'd see if there was a game on."

"Pull up a chair. We'll deal you in next hand. It's old school tonight. Seven-Card Stud usual limits."

The group made room for me at the table. I threw a fully loaded digicard across the table to Gambo in exchange for some chips. Poured myself a drink from the bottle on the table and waited for them to finish the hand.

"Your bet Gambo," said the dealer.

"Twenty," Gambo said, and slid his chips in. "So how's the interrogation going with that she-Rat, Doric?"

I swallowed a sip of 'shine, before replying: "What? Mac hasn't filled you in on all the details?"

Gambo shook his head. "He hasn't said shit."

"Call," said the player beside Gambo, tossing in her chips. "He hasn't said shit all night, have you Mac?"

Mac grunted.

I looked at Mac, but he continued to say shit. He was looking everywhere else but at me, so instead I directed my next comment to Gambo. "Really? I thought you and Mac told each other everything," I said. "Even when specifically told not to."

"If you're referring to that little favour I did for you the other day, I said nothing and I know nothing," Gambo answered.

Mac ignored this exchange, while the other two players merely raised their eyebrows. They knew better than to ask.

"Well, Mac?" asked the dealer. "Are you betting?"

"Yeah, Mac," I piped in, staring straight at him. "It's your play. What are you going to do?"

Without once looking at me, Mac slammed his cards down. "I fold," he murmured. He pocketed his chips and stood up from the table. "I've had enough. I'm out of here."

And once again, he left the room—but I wasn't going to let him walk away so easily this time. I followed him out.

"What about the game?" Gambo called to me.