Page 12 of Origin (Deridia #13)

She didn’t mention release.

Would they swarm her if she did? Had that happened before and she’d learned to keep the reason for her visits quiet? They must know. What else would be the point of checking numbers against little pieces of paper?

They didn’t jeer. Barely even looked at her.

When one finally addressed her, his voice was so low Ellion had to lean forward to hear him at all. “You were here last time,” he asked. “How long ago was that?”

Hana glanced up at him, then back at his arm. She didn’t shuffle through the papers, so she must have already committed them to memory. “Twelve days,” she answered. Did she remember him? Or was that simply the last time she’d made this trek?

“My time up?” he pressed, looking at the papers in her hands. Maybe Ellion should take those. Hold them for her while she inspected arms lest they be grabbed and trampled.

Would they take her word for which prisoners were set for release? Or would they take Hana and Ellion and leave the rest behind until next time?

His head hurt from the smoke and the swirl of queries in his head, with no hope of reprieve from either.

She squinted at his arm, then made a show of flitting through the papers. “Not today,” she murmured, and there was no mistaking how sorry she was to give that news. “Maybe next time,” she added gently.

He stepped back, his lip curling. He did not spit at her. Did nothing but meld back into the work he so clearly was desperate to be away from.

But she flinched all the same. Went to the next man. The next. A woman after that. Until there were no more numbers and no papers to give out. “Not here,” Hana declared, walking back to their guards.

They didn’t nod—did their necks not function that way? But made a sort of clicking sound the translator didn’t bother to convert.

Of course, it wouldn’t be the first batch. That would be convenient. Would get them out of here faster.

Instead, they had to twine through tunnels that evidently didn’t have any prisoners, so torches were unnecessary. There was a guard at the front and at the back, pressed in close to keep them moving. And, presumably, to keep them from walking into anything dangerous.

Ellion walked behind her, keeping his hand on her shoulder so he wouldn’t press into her if they stopped abruptly.

But the squeeze he gave every so often was for him. Or for her, he wasn’t sure. A reminder he was there. This was all right. She’d warned him about it, and it was worth it, and he was sorry she ever had to do it on her own.

A glow in the distance. Torches. Another group, in much the same condition as the last. Worse, maybe. Looking a bit more haunted, a bit more ready to drop at the slightest breeze.

But there was none down here.

Ellion forced a breath. Don’t think about it. They’d be out soon enough. Back to the open fields Hana treasured.

He could understand why, now.

A balm after all of this.

Their work slowed as they approached, but they didn’t dare stop until given the order.

Then they flooded forward. A good ten of them, not needing to be told to lift their sleeves, but shoving up tattered fabric and pushing them toward her.

“How many you got?” the first asked, skin so covered in dust it was hard to make out his features at all.

Hana glanced down the line, her lips pressing together as she considered answering. She wanted them hopeful. Wanted to take all of them.

“Seven,” she answered, more breath than sound. She had to rub at his skin a little to make out the ink, then delved into her papers for the first time. Handed it to him. “Time well served,” she offered along with it. “You will receive further instructions tomorrow about your new assignment.”

He grunted, but held on tightly to the paper that signalled his release. Dropped his tool and walked to stand by the guards.

There were three others from their group.

The last was a woman so dazed she hadn’t heard Hana at all. Just blinked, her hands flexing around a rock as if trying to drop it, but couldn’t. Ellion waited, ready to intervene if she decided swinging it was best, but Hana reached out. Covered her hand with hers.

“It’s your turn,” she insisted. “Time to go up again.”

The woman blinked. Squinted. Trying to make sense of it.

Then burst into tears.

She didn’t grasp at Hana. Instead, she pushed past her and went to one man waiting for their departure, holding onto him and weeping. She hadn’t taken her paper, and Hana stared at it, not wanting to intervene. Needing to.

She approached them both, but the woman couldn’t be bothered. “I’ll take it,” the man offered, his arm still about her. “I’ll see she gets it.”

Hana wasn’t happy, but she nodded. “You’ll get in trouble if she doesn’t,” she warned. “They check again before we leave.”

“We got them all from this group,” Hana informed the guard. Another click, but a man—the first chosen, hesitated. Ellion wanted to cuff him for it, but that wasn’t his job. “I’ll stay,” he offered. “If she can go up.”

Hana had avoided looking at the rest of them. The ones to be left behind, but she made herself. To see them.

Ellion did too. Because if she had to endure, so must he.

“We don’t get to choose,” Hana reminded him. “Her time will come. No one has to stay here forever.”

Ellion thought of the dead man in the corridor. He might not have had to labour here, but he wouldn’t go out again, either.

How many others had died? Either from neglect or from the work itself? He doubted many were miners by trade. Experienced with the work.

Something niggled in the back of his head. Not experience, not that. But knowledge. Adverts? Hana had mentioned those.

People didn’t mine any longer. There were bots for that. Who didn’t care about the dark, the tight confinement. Human operators that got to sit in comfortable rooms as mechanics did the actual work.

Why then was this necessary?

His head hurt.

Something in his chest as well.

A deep breath helped with that, but not so much his head.

They were sneering at her. Looking at her with accusation and disappointment. And they’d all be penned in together for the journey back. Their anger directed at her rather than the ones who had crafted this ridiculous exchange.

The guards did not intervene. They watched it all and waited, not calling for them to move along to the next group. Why? Did this amuse them? Or were they waiting for some sort of discord so they could intervene with clubs and swift cuffs, forgetting their strength and having fewer to deal with at the end of it.

Ellion stepped forward. “That’s it from this group,” Ellion addressed the guards. “Is there another group?”

There had to be, but that seemed a better course than being accused of presumption.

A grunt, but somehow sharper. “Line up,” one insisted.

Hana held back so she could be at the end. Ellion was forced to decide the greater threat to her. The people accompanying them or the guards with too little care for their own strength.

He stepped between her and the rest of the prisoners. Was gratified when she took hold of the back of his shirt the moment the torchlight was behind them. He did not touch the man in front of him, but kept his hand slightly outstretched in case of any sudden stops.

They didn’t immediately make it to another group. Instead, the tunnel opened to a cavernous space, the walls painted with something luminescent. Sharp swathes of neon and rich blues that glowed eerily.

Hana had said they might see young. The women. It was only a glimpse because they were shuffled beyond with purpose, ordered to keep their heads down and keep quiet.

There was more. Quick apologies as they called out to the others in the room. They were painted much the same as the walls. Little dots and swirls. Those strange limbs extended from the abdomens of the young that waved. Tasting the air.

Curious.

Ellion put his head down.

Did it help to think of them as people rather than the bugs they resembled? He didn’t know. But there were females, and children, and they liked to decorate their tunnels with something beautiful, so... maybe.

Hana’s grip on his shirt tightened, and they were plunged back into the dark.

To another tunnel. Another group.

Another line, this one shoving arms and sneering quietly every time she passed on to the next. Her shoulders hunched further each time. Looked positively miserable when only one was taken from that group.

They did spit on her then. Or at her. Because Ellion stepped in between and cursed at them, and a guard intervened before a brawl could begin.

On they went.

Until all her little papers were handed out. Until she looked as hopeless and haunted as the others.

The walk back was a silent affair. A few stumbles that threatened to take down the entire line. He kept Hana upright each time, but by the second time it happened, the guards were barking out warnings if it happened again.

By the third, they brought out the club and knocked the offender about for a moment before they were permitted to continue.

There were whispers then. Urging to keep going. Arms and hands were grasped, holding together. Lending strength when it waned in another.

Ellion was shamefully relieved when they came back to the cage. When they were ushered in and the others could sit and he would not have to think about what sort of punishment came after a clubbing.

Hana was in a corner this time. It didn’t seem to be a conscious choice on her part, just a collapse that had her settled nearest the door. It was bolted and locked; the guards stepped back onto the platform and they were off.

Still slow, but enough for the air to move about them. A blessed relief.

He stood until he could see where the others had positioned themselves. They were divided into their groups. The man and woman huddled together. She was crying softly, cradling her arm where a bruise was blossoming. The man had a cut beneath his eye that was dribbling blood.

The others sat quietly, staring into space.

Until they breached the surface, and suddenly it was a scramble to cover overly sensitive eyes, some crying out at the pain of it.

Had Hana known to warn them? Her own hands were planted over her eyes, but she had not mentioned it even to him.

She was not all right.

Not by far.

The pain was shocking, as the light of the suns threatened to blind them all. He’d no idea how long they were below, but he could only imagine how much worse it would be for those that had endured it for days. Weeks.

But he could not deny they were incapacitated.

It was encouragement enough that he sat beside her. Not directly—he was slightly in front. They’d have to get through him before her, and that was a comfort.

She wouldn’t agree, but that was all right. He’d take an argument over her stiff silence. The way she’d crumpled into herself. “Hana,” he murmured, angling his body so he could look at her properly.

She didn’t take her hands away from her eyes. Not even to see when they crossed into the plains. To the expanse she so craved.

There were things that needed saying. About how he didn’t blame her. How none of this was her fault. She couldn’t save them, but she’d helped the ones she could. But those were private assurances. For hurts she did not need broadcasted to strangers.

“Would you rather live in the plains or by the river?” Ellion asked, wishing he’d paid more attention to the other choices he might offer her.

She didn’t answer. Didn’t give any indication she’d heard him at all. He nudged her gently, just leaning his body against her tucked-up knees for a moment. Her head popped up and her hands fell away, and he offered her a grim sort of smile. “Plains or river? Which would you pick for your house?”

Her mouth dropped open. She tried to say something. Grimaced. Mouth too dry, then? She swallowed and tried again. “Whichever has proper plumbing,” she admitted with a sheepish look. “Either would be pretty enough for me.”

He leaned back, trying to appear relaxed even though he was anything but. His body was coiled with too much tension. He needed to move, to run, to do something other than sit and dwell on what he’d just seen. “There are other considerations, of course. Before we build,” he kept on, casting a glance over at the other prisoners to ensure they were paying them as little mind as possible.

“What if there are great big beasts that live in the plains and would trample our new house?”

Hana sniffed. Wiped at her nose with her sleeve. “Our house?”

He rolled his head in her direction, plastering on as cheeky a smile as he dared. “Well, obviously. What kind of escort would I be if I weren’t available at your slightest need?”

She shifted, the corners of her mouth pulling upward, if only just a bit. “And I suppose a house next door would just be too far. I’d have to walk all the way over just to fetch you.”

“Precisely,” Ellion agreed. Watched some of the tension leave her. Which was his aim. She wasn’t so much a huddle. Didn’t look as if she was about to break.

“If there’s great beasts in the plains, there might be serpents in the river.” Hana shook her head gravely. “Big ones. So they’d swallow us up when we’re trekking water to our house because we have no plumbing.”

Ellion scoffed. “Again with the plumbing.”

Hana scowled. Nudged him back. “Says you who have never been without it.”

“And you have?” He’d meant it as a tease, but Hana tucked her arms about her middle and took on far too serious an expression.

“You think there’re lavatories by the fields? No. A cesspit with a couple of outhouses. Like we were pioneers or something. It was horrible.”

Another reason for her choice, then. An office where she could hide away from the heat. Access to proper sanitation facilities.

Small comforts, to some. Much greater ones to her.

“None in the tunnels, either,” a man cut in, reminding them both their little game was audible to all. “No showers, either.”

That would have been more than apparent, except the speed of the craft kept the air coming through quickly enough.

“Fine,” Ellion agreed, not wanting to lose the ground he’d conquered and have her settled back into reality. “Until I’ve had a rotation with the plumbers so I can build you a proper house with proper waterworks, we won’t move there. Is that sufficient?”

Her mouth twitched, and some shadows left her eyes. “Two rotations,” Hana argued. “To be safe.”

Ellion grunted, making a far greater show of offence than he felt. “Of course, in that scenario, you would have to take on the work with me. Since I would be a very poor escort if I was off dealing with disasters without you.”

Hana’s nose crinkled. “I only make you learn about paper,” she groused. “That does not seem fair.”

Ellion rolled his shoulders. “We’re not in a fair place, boss. You want running water, you’re going to have to learn it with me.”

Hana watched him for a moment. Took a breath. “Deal,” she agreed, which felt far more serious than he’d intended it to be, not when there was no chance they’d ever have a house anywhere but the dorms. When there would be no supplies to make anything at all.

But maybe it wasn’t wrong to pretend it was possible. To ask what she liked. To know her a little better.

He watched her hair battle the breeze and lose brilliantly, her curls tangling into a mass.

Did she have a comb back in the dorms? Or did she have to tease out each knot with her fingertips? He doubted he’d have the patience for that. Take a blade to it with little care. If it was on his own head, of course.

He’d never do that to her.

He’d help if she asked. Although he’d have no idea what he was doing. Probably tug too hard and earn a scolding, which he would deserve because the last thing in the world he wished to do was hurt her.

“I’d pick the river, myself,” Ellion continued as they crossed from the gold of the plains to the green of the river. “I like trees, I think. Not that you asked me. Which is exactly what a boss would do, thinking she gets to pick without considering her subordinates.” He worried he’d gone too far, picked at something too near a very real wound, but Hana shoved at him, and there was a spark in her eyes that hadn’t been there a moment before, so that was all right.

“And I suppose you’d make do with a shack and a bucket? Since you’re such a good outdoorsman?”

He might have said something about how she didn’t know any better than he did, but he kept that to himself. “You don’t know I’m not,” he said instead, giving her a rather pointed look. She flushed, seemed to remember there were others for the first time. Her expression shuttered, and she wasn’t there anymore. Or at their fictional home, that certainly would have been more than a shack. To start, maybe, but it wouldn’t stay that way. It would have solid walls. A good roof that would keep out the suns and the rains, assuming those ever came.

He knew about rain. That was real. Known. Water that came down in mists or in torrents, depending on the season.

Standing in it.

Getting soaked to the skin. Regretting his choice in footwear because his boots weren’t the waterproof kind, and the water was seeping straight through to his socks.

It was all so vivid it was almost startling.

He didn’t trust it as much as he wanted to. But it was something. More than he’d had even a moment before. “Does it rain here?” Ellion asked, his mouth dry and his head pounding.

Hana gave him a look. “Some. Not a lot. A blessing and a curse if you work the farm.”

Ellion grunted. Save some watering, but you’d also get the pleasure of mud mucking up boots and hems.

His boots? His trousers?

He couldn’t be sure. Maybe his mind was just getting better at supplying exposition for what she said rather than it being a lived experience.

He rubbed at his forehead.

Hana nudged him with her foot.

“You all right?” she mouthed rather than said aloud.

He pointed to his forehead and grimaced.

She nodded in sympathy. “We’ll be in the office the rest of the day,” she explained quietly. “I’ll need to write up new work orders for all of them.” She nodded to the others, and some turned tired eyes in her direction. Others managed to glare.

Ellion didn’t ask why they did not get a day of rest in between. It would only stir discontent, and that’s not something he wished to do while stuck in a cage.

They kept quiet for the rest of it. But Hana was at least looking out at the scenery rather than crumpling in on herself, so that was better. The other woman stopped crying eventually, her tear tracks the only clean spot on her face.

Ellion wondered if her arm was broken, but he couldn’t get a good enough look. Couldn’t help much, regardless. Hopefully, the man at her side could trade enough to have her looked at by the medic.

The craft stopped. The cage opened. Hana didn’t move, but waited for all the rest to pass before she used the metal bars to help herself to her feet. Ellion followed, wondering why that was important to her.

Then thought of the dead man. The one that stayed behind.

If she had waited, could she have coaxed him out before the guards intervened?

Ellion swallowed. Followed her out.

The rest were ordered to wash and to watch for the next mealtime. Further instructions would follow the next day.

Hana stayed until they’d finished, then walked slowly toward the office, Ellion following behind to ensure no one rushed her from the group. They seemed disoriented in the bright sunlight. As if they couldn’t quite remember what was where.

“To your left,” he called out. Knowing he had to keep to Hana. Knowing also she’d want to help them if she was more herself. “Washrooms. I don’t know which bunks were yours.”

Heads swivelled in his direction. They moved off in the direction he’d told them.

Hana waited, brow furrowed. “I should have done that,” she murmured, more to herself than to him.

“Why?” Ellion asked, overtaking her and urging her to the building that seemed to bring her such comfort. “I did.”

Her lips thinned. “But it’s my job. Not yours.”

Ellion paused at the office door, waiting for her to kneel and grab the key to unlock it. He didn’t mention the guards hadn’t given the new work orders. That she would sit in her chair and stare at the tabletop with nothing to do.

He could still smell smoke clinging in his nose. Could still hear the steady pound of tools against rock and earth.

The chittering of women and young in their bright paints, staring at them as they passed.

“I got this job,” Hana answered as she came close. “Because no one else wanted it. Not because it matched my skills. Or because it was particularly good at it. I don’t want to think I’m training my replacement.” She was kneeling, her hands delving for the strap about her ankle, pulling out the key. And when she looked up at him, her eyes were shiny, and... frightened.

“I won’t make it if I have to go back to that,” Hana reminded him. “So don’t get too good at my job.”

It was a plea. As if that might actually be his aim. The first hint of mistrust she’d given him.

“Hana,” he began, not exactly sure what he meant to say. “That wasn’t...” he held out his hand to help her up, but she shook her head and did it herself. He’d done something wrong. That much was more than obvious. But how to fix it, he hadn’t the least idea.

“I know. You were just being helpful.” But her tone did not suggest she meant it as a compliment, and there was a leaden weight in his stomach as he followed her in.

She could kick him out. Tell him to guard the door from the outside. Refuse to speak to him. Teach him anything else.

Would she?

She needed to protect herself. More than once she’d admitted that she’d chosen this work because the others were beyond her. She was soft and warm and not everyone was meant for hard labour. Or was no one? He didn’t know. Couldn’t remember.

She sat down in the chair that wasn’t hers and sighed. Her hands came to cradle her head, and he watched carefully for signs she was crying in earnest.

What he would do then, he didn’t know.

“Close the door, please,” Hana urged.

Didn’t mention he should be on the other side of it, so that was something.

He did as she asked, because she’d asked it. Didn’t she know that?

“I wanted to help you, not them,” he admitted. Which was probably not the right thing to say at all, but it was what he had. “Because you’re kind like that. Don’t like people feeling lost. And you’re upset, so you weren’t able to do it yourself, so I did it. It doesn’t mean I’m aiming for a promotion.”

He walked closer to the desk. Wanted to reach out and touch one of her tangled curls. Her shoulder. Something.

Anything.

But he refrained. Because something told him his touch wouldn’t be welcome at the moment, and she was already frightened. He did not need to add to her troubles.

“I don’t want to talk,” Hana blurted out, not even bothering to raise her head. “Can we just... sit? For a while?”

Ellion didn’t know if it was right to oblige her. If it was better for her to stew in her own thoughts and emerge in her own time, ready to set it all aside. Or maybe he should get her talking. Purge it out. How she felt to have a dead man at her feet. To have to leave others behind in conditions she obviously found deplorable.

“Whatever you say, boss,” he settled on inside, sitting down because she’d asked it of him. Watched her shoulders shake in silence. Tried to wrestle with his own feelings. How... few, he felt. Which rather disturbed him. Left him with the impression he’d seen death before, but he couldn’t settle on if he’d been the cause. Maybe he was a medic. Lost a few that were beyond his care.

He grimaced, thinking of the pod and the bots and the crew that had handled him. None of it felt familiar. So he dismissed that possibility. Tried to reconcile the few possibilities that came to him. A fighter? That was a thing, wasn’t it? Either in the military, or perhaps for sport?

There was no denying that his body was well prepared for hand combat, even if his mind wasn’t.

They weren’t sitting long before a guard appeared. Rattled off numbers and assignments before he left again without confirming that Hana remembered them all.

She pulled out her scrap of paper. Jotted it all down as quickly as she could. Nodded to herself. She could do this. She was fine. This was just the work. She’d volunteered—no need to fuss about the particulars.

While Ellion had the pleasure of watching her fold in on herself. Convince herself of things that were not at all true.

Because she’d asked him to do so.

And he’d said he’d listen.

Regret.

It came slowly. Curdled his stomach.

But he knew it well. Which was even more troubling.