Page 2 of Origin (Deridia #13)

“You just going to stand there?”

He blinked. Two suns. Had he seen a world like that? He couldn’t remember.

Then he shook his head, frustrated with himself, because of course he couldn’t. The guard’s blows hadn’t helped matters. Hadn’t dislodged the block of memories. They’d put a salve and done a fresh scan, and called him fit for the next phase.

Memory loss was rare, they said, but a potential side effect of hibernation. Maybe they’d come back, maybe they wouldn’t. He was healthy enough, at least for what they wanted with him.

He’d been hosed. Perhaps that wasn’t the word. Shoved into a room where water was sprayed at him from all angles. Clothes were thrust into his hands and he’d been ordered to dress, as if he would have lodged any sort of complaint on that front.

Then he was ordered into a line with other men and women and marched off the craft.

Down to a planet he didn’t know. With suns that were glaring, and the grasses were sparse and the dirt was dusty from lack of water.

Then the craft had taken off, the dust turning into a swirl of grit that bit at his exposed skin, negating the point of the hosing entirely as it clung to his hair and got into his eyes before he’d thought to close them.

He thought the guard would have stayed. The one from before. But no.

Instead, they were surrounded by creatures. People, probably. But not like any he knew. He had fingers. Gold-hued skin. Smudges of brown that wouldn’t come off, even when he rubbed.

These were tall. Bipedal, but with crusts of armour that looked more natural than worn. Eyes were small and black. Difficult to confront without a weapon of some kind...

They had no lips. Nothing to suggest they could produce speech. Yet when their pincers moved and speech followed, there was a sharp, unsettling feeling radiating from his brain. An implant of some kind? It was little wonder they’d addled his head. They certainly wouldn’t tell him what else they’d done.

There were others milling about. Some people, some of these... others. Only the bug looking ones held any weapons—mostly batons. Not smooth like the guard on the ship, but spiked. Cut from some sort of metal or...

He looked down at their legs.

Took in the sharp points on calf and forearm.

Not metal, then.

Did they moult, or did they use the bodies of their fallen as tools? An interesting prospect.

He couldn’t focus. His head was swimming, and he needed to pay attention. He heard something about a commander, and the Narada, and how they would build a great colony. Redemption was nigh.

The suns were too hot.

His skin itched in the heat, and he could well understand how the others making a loose circle around the newcomers had refashioned some of their garments into lighter attire. Some had forsaken their sleeves entirely, others simply rolled up cuffs and hems to expose ragged footwear.

The speech droned on. About rations, and work, and most importantly, expectations. Quotas.

There was a girl mingling between the newcomers. Or maybe a woman. Handing out bundles from a trolley she pushed along with her, nodding and smiling and looking far too sweet for their situation. None answered her in kind. They simply took what she gave them, while trying to keep still in the unrelenting heat.

When had he last eaten? Had anything to drink?

He wasn’t hungry exactly. But he felt a weakness deep in his bones, and his mouth was parched.

A flask was situated on top. He did not dare inspect the rest of the articles, but there was fabric. A change of clothing? Or perhaps scorching days led to chilly nights, and they required additional layers.

She moved on.

The speech came to an end.

The wardens moved off, and then...

Something akin to chaos.

As those from the sidelines charged forward, catching the newcomers by surprise as they grabbed anything they could. He blinked, shifting his gear to one arm and waiting for his attack to come. His place in the middle was superior—it took longer for any to approach him, and he was ready with a quick fist as knuckles met the delicate bone of a nose.

His own nose crinkled as he took a step backward, not wanting the blood that came next to settle on his garments.

For as quickly as the rabble began, it faded quickly. Most ran, the others pursuing. There were more blows, looters running off with their spoils before anyone could fight back.

He remained in place—it wasn’t a conscious choice. He simply had nowhere else to go.

Perhaps he waited too long, because he felt her eyes on him. Her trolley had been taken. Had she docked it somewhere, or had the wardens taken it? But that would mean he’d come back, and there was certainly no reason for that.

He shifted, trying to process what she’d said to him. “What was that?” he asked. He shouldn’t engage. Keep his head down. Find a place to sleep. Or maybe eat.

She squinted, holding up a hand and shielding her eyes from the sunlight. Her hair glowed in it, setting off the golds in her skin. She practically sparkled in it. “They’re not coming back for you. Not today. Might as well go find your bunk.” She glanced at the bundle under his arm. “You’re lucky. Not many get to start out with the goods.”

He snorted. “Lucky, am I?”

Her smile faltered, her eyes darting around the open space surrounding them. If it had any other function, he did not know what it might be.

He glanced around, half expecting another mob to take the rest of his goods, but the frenzy seemed to have ended. Or moved off.

“Well, sure. You’re alive. You’ve got provisions. More than many people could say. If they could talk. Which they couldn’t. Because they’d be dead.” She shrugged her shoulders, and he blinked. Was she teasing him? Or maybe it was a threat. His eyes narrowed as he tried to make out if she had a weapon hidden on her person, but he couldn’t. He’d been wrong about her age. Not as young as he’d first thought—it was the curls in her hair and the smiles that had made him think so. She filled out her clothing nicely. There was nothing gaunt about her. She was softness all over, from the top of her head to the tips of her toes peeping out from the suit she wore, that looked entirely different on his own frame.

“There’s a map,” she nodded toward the bundle in his arms. “Labelled. Unless you dropped it.”

Now that she mentioned it, there were a few leaflets half-buried in the dust from the ship’s takeoff. He shifted his belongings, and sure enough, there it was beneath the flask.

“Or if I forgot to put one,” she continued, raising up on tiptoe to get a better look.

He didn’t like it. Shifted so his things were for his attention alone. “I got it,” he managed. He really did need a drink, but it felt wrong to do it here. In front of her. He needed to hole away somewhere. Regroup. Figure out what was going on without an audience to judge him.

“Oh. Good. I try to get all the supplies in order, but it seems like I overlook something no matter how hard I try to get it all straight.” She blew out a breath. “Not that anyone usually gets to keep the whole thing, so I shouldn’t care so much. But it’s my job.”

Less of a smile, more of a worried glance in his direction as she waited. For a reaction? Was he supposed to have one?

“One of them, that is. You’ll have a few too, I’m sure. Once you get to your assignment.” She took a half-step closer to him, and he really should put a stop to it. Tell her to leave.

But he didn’t.

She didn’t reach for his things. Instead, she stooped down and picked up a fallen map, brushing off the dust. She had the same smudges on her skin as he did. Were they the same kind, then? Must be. He fought down the urge to touch his hair, to see if it was the same texture.

She held it open for him to look. He had to squint. Was there something wrong with his vision? He needed sleep. Water, first. No, to get out of these wretched suns. “We’re here,” she pointed, tapping at the paper. “If you’ll look at yours, it’ll mark where you’re assigned. You’ll bunk with your workmates. Try to make friends, if you can.” Another waver, as if there was a great deal she wasn’t saying.

He swallowed. Didn’t reach for his map. “What is this place?” he asked. It was dangerous. Admitting weakness. But there was something disarming about her. Which was likely going to become a regret he carried with him for quite some time, but the words had tumbled out before he could catch them back.

Her head tilted slightly as she looked him over. “Which part? Our district?” She pointed to a faded sign that had likely once been crisp white and red, but had turned a murky sort of brown, smudged over by dust and age. “Eight. We joined with nine a few years back. They weren’t doing so good. So now we’re not doing so good either, but we got to keep our number, so maybe it evens out.”

He couldn’t imagine how, or what, she was even talking about really, but that would be yet another admission.

“Or do you mean here?” she gestured around them. “Landing spot for the drop ship, mostly. Supplies every quarter. Although we’re supposed to be getting self-sufficient, so I don’t know how much longer those are going to last.” Her eyes went back to his. “Sorry. I don’t mean to worry you. I’m not used to anybody listening for this long.”

He opened his mouth to ask why, but closed it again. He would not trust her. Would not be taken in by her easy manner and penchant for chatter. But he needed to understand what was going on, and allowing her to prattle seemed... prudent.

Never mind that he found it strangely comforting.

Better than the nothingness of his own head.

“Right.” She continued, glancing at the ground and blowing out a breath. “Well. I’ll just...” She took a step away from him, but paused. “Do you want me to show you around? Or would that be...” She waited, and obviously he wasn’t doing what she wanted of him, because she nodded, looking almost dejected. “Course. You’re a grown man, and you can find your own way.”

He could. Somehow, he didn’t doubt that. But that didn’t mean he had to. “If you’ve nothing else to do.” He shifted his gear and turned to her more fully.

She was beaming at him.

Which was... ridiculous, since he’d thought her too bright and shiny already, but there was no mistaking he’d pleased her.

Greatly.

“Of course! If you’ll just...” she pointed, but didn’t reach for his belongings. “I’ll give it back, I swear. But it’ll help if I can just...”

He pulled out his map.

Held it out to her.

She looked at him as if he’d handed her something precious, and perhaps he’d misunderstood the importance of a map, because to him it was a piece of paper with some scribbles on it.

He squinted harder.

Not scribbles. Words. Which meant he could read. He raised his free hand and rubbed at his forehead, a mounting pressure growing there.

“You all right?” she asked, looking him over. Not with suspicion exactly. Something else. Concern? “We have a medic and he’ll see you, but...” she grimaced. “You’ve usually got to have something to trade. I know it’s not supposed to work that way.” She sighed and offered him a dim smile. “And you had to get cleared to come down here, didn’t you? So you should be fine.” Her eyes narrowed. “Except you don’t look very fine.” Her skin deepened all over, most notably her ears peeping out from amongst all that hair. She really should have it bound up somehow. Far more practical. Especially with this unrelenting heat.

He glanced up at the cursed suns and glared. “Is it always this hot?”

She tried to follow his gaze, then relaxed her shoulders. “Come on. Let’s get you in the shade.” She nodded toward his flask. “You should also take a drink.” Her hand reached down to a pocket of her suit and patted gently. “Always keep it with you. Most important. Someone will try to nick that first. You lose it, you have to go to the pump every time you need a drink, and people aren’t too happy if you sit there lapping at the spigot.”

He tried to conjure a picture of shade in his mind. There were figments. Where memories should have been. Of places he’d lived. Or visited. But the pictures wouldn’t come.

His guide took him behind one of the buildings. He could look at his map and work out its purpose, but he needed a moment first. She was right. His mouth and throat were so dry they almost burned, and despite the salve and mending the droid provided to his head, it throbbed terribly.

“You want to sit?” She still looked half-ready to go find that medic and trade away what few belongings he had to his name, so he nodded and sank down, using the heavy blocks of the foundation to rest against.

He brought his knees up, letting his goods nestle away from the dust and dirt while he opened up the flask. She joined him, keeping a respectable space between them, although she didn’t seem nervous in his company. Should she be? He didn’t know. He hadn’t the least idea how life worked in a place like this, only that trade seemed to be an important element. What did one do when their belongings were all gone? He felt like he had an answer, but it was buried along with the rest of it.

He stared at the flask for a moment, taking in how it might open. He glanced at the woman beside him, and she just smiled, obviously expecting him to know how it worked.

He took a breath. Willed the throb in his head to diminish.

Which it didn’t.

He tried to flip the cap off. Failed.

Then twisted, and felt it yield, and there was relief he was capable of something at least. A piece of rubber joined the cap to the flask itself. A clever bit of design, lest the cap be lost.

He took a drink. Then a longer one.

Until his belly sloshed with it, and an instinct deeper than hidden memories warned he’d be sick if he took another. “Better?” she asked him, eyes wide as she took in his appearance.

He focused on placing the cap back on the flask as he tried to formulate his answer. He couldn’t share his bewilderment. Couldn’t be honest with her about his memories. She might seem like sunshine itself, but one did not end up in a place like this without cause.

He frowned at the thought.

Did that mean he’d committed some crime? Some travesty? His body seemed to know how to defend itself, even if his mind did not. But defence was different.

His head ached.

“I don’t know,” he settled on, instead of the brusque answer he should have given.

She hummed a little, her finger moving through the dust by her hip. Forming little pictures. Or were they words? He refused to squint enough to make it out. It would only make the pounding in his head worse.

But he could admit the curiosity.

“I remember that. It’s a confusing place. So different from the pen I was in before.” She let her head fall back against the wall, lolling slightly so she could look at him. “Were you in max? Or in one of those farming places? I heard transition isn’t so hard if you were used to the work already.”

He glanced down at his hands, looking for some sign of what labour he might have done. There were little scars here and there. But they were clean. No dirt was trapped beneath the curve of his nails.

His mouth opened to tell her he didn’t know, but he stopped himself. He wanted to trust her. Wanted someone to know what happened to him. And she seemed like the sort that wouldn’t use it against him. But what did he know?

Nothing.

She could sell it. Trade it away. The knowledge. To others that would use it against him. Maybe she’d get a new pair of shoes, or a second flask to keep in her pocket so she wouldn’t have to go to the pump so often.

He curled his hands into fists, warring with himself. With her. Which wasn’t fair, was it? To do battle with an opponent that was caught unawares.

“That’s all right,” she murmured, shrugging her shoulder as if it was the most common thing in the world for him to sit in silence, ignoring her questions. “Some like to talk about before. Most don’t. I shouldn’t have asked.”

“I don’t...” he began, then shook his head. “It’s not like that.”

Another of her smiles. A little sad, a lot of understanding. “Whatever you say.”

He didn’t know how to talk to her. Didn’t know if he should. But he couldn’t deny that he wanted to. Sitting there. Waiting for someone to walk by, to order them away. To sneer and tussle and make another go for the bundle of meagre belongings he currently held balanced on his knees.

“You want me to go?” she asked, tilting her head and keeping her smile. “You can sit for a while.” A falter. A hesitation. “Well, maybe you shouldn’t linger too long. Someone will find you eventually.”

He grimaced.

The smile fell. Her brow furrowed, and her head turned with it so she could look across the yard beyond.

“Sorry. They sure talked about how different it would be here. I believed them, too. I shouldn’t have, but...” she shrugged her shoulders. “Could be worse,” she murmured, as if it was a reminder to herself more than for his benefit. She nodded. Repeated it. Pasted on another smile and tried to engage him again.

His ears rang. He forced his fingers to unclench so he could wipe a hand across his brow. “Right.” She shifted, using the wall to help her as she got back on her feet.

“Wait,” he managed to get out just before she stood up entirely. He grabbed her without thinking. Which was... wrong, wasn’t it? But his hand moved of its own accord, much as it had done when they’d come for his belongings.

But he wasn’t hurting her. Or, he didn’t think so. Especially not when he purposefully loosened his grip on her forearm.

Some of the softness in her eyes edged out to the wariness so many others had worn, and he swallowed, sorry for it. “Sorry,” he offered, letting go of her entirely. “Sorry,” he repeated, shaking his head. The rest of him was shaking, too. “Stay. Please. Just... stay.”

She sank back down on the ground beside him, a little farther than she had been before. “Maybe we should think about that med visit after all,” she mused, peering at him after a moment of silence. He needed to pull it together. He had no time for confusion. This was happening. This was real. There would be no droid coming back to patch him up and settle his memories into place.

He scrubbed at his face. Drew in as deep a breath as he could. “I’m fine,” he insisted. “I had a rough go when they woke me up. That’s all.”

Her mouth twisted. “One benefit of a lifetime commitment here; I won’t have to get into one of those pods again.”

His head turned sharply. “Lifetime?”

She blinked once, slowly. “Of course. One-way ticket. That was all explained in the literature. Or did you not read it?” Her eyes widened. “Not that it would be bad if you didn’t! I’m sure lots of people don’t. They just want out, and this place isn’t so bad. Pretty sky.” She leaned her head back so she could look. “My pen before was off-planet. Metal everywhere. Like living in a box. There was a porthole, but then it was just... black.” She shivered. Patted her thumb against her knee and then seemed to shove the memory away. “I’m Hana, by the way.”

“Hana,” he repeated. He’d remember it, wouldn’t he? What if he slept that night and it all disappeared again?

“That’s me,” she answered brightly, but it faded quickly into something near to nervousness. “You going to give me yours?”

He huffed out a breath. Found her expression an odd one. “Is there something I should know about it? They don’t get used against you somehow, do they?”

She appeared startled, but hid it quickly. “No,” she assured him. “I just... people don’t like... talking to me much. Sharing things. Cause of the... job, you know? Working for them. I mean, I don’t see it that way,” she hurried to add. “I see it as working for all of you. And it limits contact with the guards, which is never a bad thing, right? But it means I’m kind of... an outsider, I guess. Stuck.” Her mouth twisted. “I haven’t had an introduction in a really long time. Just pick up everybody’s names along the way.”

“Oh.” He wanted to give her that. Because she’d been kind, and there was just something... comforting about her. Which could have been an act, he supposed. A trick in order to... what? Steal what few resources he had? Get him to trust her and then...

He closed his eyes. Let his head fall back against the wall behind him. “If I had one to give you, I would.”

She shifted. Back to where she’d been, or closer still? He didn’t open his eyes to see.

“What’s that mean?” she asked at last. “You grow up in a cult or something? No names? Oh, or maybe you were dropped off as a child in a no-go zone and you just have forgotten it.” Another shift, and he could feel her coming closer.

He opened his eyes, tensed for her to make her move and steal his things.

But she was just sitting. Eyes wide and nothing nefarious about them. Curious, or perhaps a little confused, but not like an enemy ready to pounce upon his weakness. “The pod,” he reminded her. “It did... something to me.” He waved a hand in about his head. “I don’t remember much of anything.”

Her mouth opened. She closed it again.