0196: A Connection is Made

Ziggurat #104

“What’s the Rosemary prayer?” Lamont asked.

“Rosary,” the medic laughed. Her gaze shifted into the distance as she visibly searched her memory. “It’s, ‘Hail Mary, full of grace, the Lord is with thee. Blessed art thou among women, and blessed is the fruit of thy womb, Jesus.”

The shuttle stopped.

Lamont regarded her incredulously. “Wait. This bloody prayer—you just know it?”

Rosemary shrugged. “It’s common knowledge. I don’t think I know the whole thing. Santana might—I think she’s Catholic.”

Lamont looked around in irritation, looking for a place to discard his cigarette. “Where’s a patch of moss when you need one?” he muttered.

“Did I say something wrong?” Rosemary asked.

“No, you said the right thing at the wrong time,” Lamont fumed. “For all I know, I could have been spared a week of bad sleep.”

Rosemary looked surprised. “A week? Is that how long you’ve been having the dream? Not before?”

“Not that I can recall,” Lamont said slowly. “Why do you…”

Suddenly, he snapped his fingers, scattering ashes from the cigarette that drifted toward the wall as if blown by a breeze. “That’s how long we’ve been in this system,” he exclaimed.

Rosemary nodded.

Lamont pulled himself away from the wall. Instantaneously, the nearly invisible seam of the lift’s curved portal slid open to reveal the open expanse of the landing bay. Rather than walking through it, Lamont merely paced to the other end of the shuttle and back again. “To foster receptivity,” he muttered.

“Beg your pardon?” Rosemary asked.

“It’s something Clifford said to me after we found him again. He said that the purpose of the garden is to ‘foster receptivity.’ Those are the words he used.”

“Receptivity to what?” The medic’s green eyes followed him as he paced.

“What? Or whom? Who knows? But there’s one thing I do know.” Lamont stopped in front of the medic and pointed a finger upward, nearly dropping the smoldering cigarette. “We’re standing in what might be the biggest radio tower in the galaxy.”