Page 20 of Origin (Deridia #13)

Hana was antsy.

Which wasn’t unusual, but the way she only peeked at him rather than engage fully over the breakfast table certainly was not.

They’d fallen into a routine of sorts over the past... more than a week. Two. A month? Maybe he was supposed to be counting the days, but it hadn’t occurred to him. There were no appointments to manage, no work beyond his steady presence beside his boss. And that was no great hardship.

Work. Eat. Sneak from his bed into hers.

Steal a few kisses in the office before she chided him when his hand would manage to untuck the corner of her shirt and slip a hand to her waist. He wasn’t certain if it was modesty, or his previous caution about cameras that stayed her, but that was a conversation they’d need to have. What did they want their relationship to look like? Chaste friends who liked to hold one another in the night? Kiss when there was a spare moment?

Or have something more. Be something more.

Was that it?

He’d made himself clear. Or he thought he had. But she had a history. She knew what it was to be taken advantage of, and maybe it would take more than a few assurances to convince her that was not his aim. Not ever.

He nudged her with his foot. “What’s wrong?”

Her lips tightened. Him, then. Most definitely. He’d stayed with her. Walked her to the lav, to the washroom. He’d called her lovely when she came out with her hair full of steam and buoyant curls, and she’d rolled her eyes at him. Was that it?

Her eyes darted about them. There was the usual space about them. Was it private then? Something wrong with her?

She leaned forward. “There should be a ship today,” she whispered, and he had to lean in close enough to hear her answer at all.

He sat back, not at all expecting that to be what troubled her. Not about him, after all. Which meant she didn’t mind him complimenting her after her wash. Which was good.

There hadn’t been. Not since the one that dropped him off, anyway. “Supplies?” He suggested, imagining the chaos of crates falling from the sky and people fighting one another for access to the best goods.

He could well understand her dread.

“Some,” she mumbled. “Inspection would be the main reason.”

That sounded ominous.

“Maybe their ship will be late,” Hana tried to force a cheerfulness into her voice she obviously didn’t feel. “Then it won’t happen.”

“That bad?” Ellion asked, less for his sake and more for hers. An inspection sounded like a problem for the guards. When someone would have to read Hana’s notes and account for the deaths that occurred under their supervision.

Perhaps that was the optimist in him.

“They bring a doctor with them,” she explained, giving him a pointed look. “ Everyone gets inspected. And they’ll talk to me about my work and my notes, and I could lose my job if they aren’t happy with me.”

Ellion reached out and took hold of her hand. “You do fine work,” he reminded her. “They’ll see that.”

She grimaced, but he could tell she was reaching for a smile. “Are you going to tell them about...” she made a gesture toward his head.

He snorted. “Shouldn’t they know already? Should be in my record. They’re the ones that did it to me.”

His mouth grew dry. “Would they know why I’m here?”

Hana took a deliberate sip from her cup. “Yes,” she murmured, not meeting his eye. “Although I would not recommend asking.”

“Why?” His tone had sharpened, and he was sorry for it the moment he saw her flinch. “I deserve to know who I am. What I am.” She still wouldn’t look at him. “Don’t I?” It wasn’t an accusation. Far more a plea.

She took a deep breath and waited. For him to say more? Or for her to decide on how she meant to respond. “It’s not that, Ellion,” she started at last, turning sad eyes to him. “It just... never ends well to draw attention. To question them. To sound anything but grateful for being here. And I’m not saying that I don’t trust you to stay calm and keep your head, but...”

There was a sinking feeling in his belly. “But you don’t trust me to keep calm and hold my temper.”

She shrugged. “An injustice was done, and they didn’t put it right. I’m not saying you’re wrong for being angry with them. And you deserve far better than you got. But I care about you. You know that. And I don’t want you hurt. And I also don’t want you to be assigned to the tunnels for disrespect.” She was the one to reach out again. To grab hold of his hand. To comfort rather than be comforted. “I’ve got rather used to you,” she reminded him. “And I’d rather keep you around.”

He didn’t like that it took so long for him to soften. For his thoughts to quiet from their bitter barrage.

That she didn’t want him to talk to them, because they might see it was wrong. Might take him for testing. Fix him.

And if they couldn’t, might send him back to his planet of origin because this was a mistake, to wipe a man of his memories and then maintain the punishment for a crime he didn’t know he’d committed.

Would that be so wrong? He’d have a life again. One that was his own. No guards to order him about. No need to watch constantly for hints of threat.

No Hana in his bed. Teasing him. Making him wonder how long they would wait before they’d forget about communal rooms. They could be quiet, surely. And then...

He frowned.

Took a breath.

Squeezed her hand in return.

“Best behaviour,” he promised her. Watched her give him a dubious look, and he couldn’t fault her for it. Even if he managed to give her a hurt expression as he held a hand to his chest. “You don’t think I can manage that?”

She looked at him, grim-faced and far too serious. Where was her quip back? The one that charmed him, made him laugh. “I don’t want to lose you,” she admitted, and it seemed to cost her a great deal to offer it to him. “So I need you to mean that.”

If they were outside, he’d step close. He’d push her wayward curls behind her ears and hold her gently, reminding her he was going nowhere. That he cared for her. That he...

He swallowed.

But they weren’t outside. They were separated by a table, and a picked-at breakfast. And there was a voice whispering in his ear that had nothing to do with the implant. The one that said she was lying to him. That they would help, they would set things right. If only he brought it up to them.

And she was trying to keep him here, under any circumstances. Not what was right by him, but what she wanted.

He sat with that, brows furrowed. Considering. She was nervous. Upset. And nothing had even happened yet.

Was he proud of her for looking out for herself, or disappointed that the cost was his own freedom? Well. Potential freedom.

They might just clobber him over the head again and send him on his way.

Somehow, he did not think brains took kindly to second injuries. Might take even more of his faculties.

“You mad?” Hana asked, holding her cup in her hands and twirling it gently. Watching the liquid rather than him.

He took a breath. Was he? He watched her for a moment. “You’re the boss,” he offered, waiting for her to glance at him. Grateful there was no resentment in his tone.

She wanted him. Wanted him to stay. With her. Was afraid he’d do something stupid, and they’d be parted. That he’d be gone.

And she’d be alone.

But it was more than that, wasn’t it? It wasn’t good enough that she had someone . She wanted it to be him.

Didn’t she?

She turned nervous eyes up to meet his. Did his best to pass reassurance across to her. Confidence that he felt as she did.

There might be some unknown life out there. One he’d cared to protect before.

But this was now, and he’d made promises of a different sort. To the woman anxiously nibbling at her breakfast. The one that kept peeking at him, waiting for him to be cross, to hurl accusations in her direction.

And he couldn’t do it. Couldn’t hurt her like that.

“If I can find a way to ask about you, I will,” she offered. “Safely,” she added, because she’d listened to him before. About taking care of herself. Protecting herself.

And it loosened the last of his trepidation. Made his smile easy, and he nudged her under the table again, just because he could.

Watched some of the tension ease from her shoulders, and her bites were fuller. Less obligatory.

“Tell me about the medical stuff,” he asked, because now they’d sorted out her worries, he needed to address his own. “I can’t say I much enjoyed my last encounter with a doctor.”

It was a horror seared into his mind. He’d woken more than once to the memory of burning. The fear that gripped him. The passionless face of a bot staring over him, urging him to calm.

She gave him a look of sympathy before tapping his tray, reminding him to eat as well. “This is a special craft. One for transporting down the inspectors, the other a portable med bay. They take a few of us at a time. Scan you all over. Check your levels. Make suggestions about nutrition. Weight. Ask all sorts about sleep and your time here. Be polite,” she insisted, giving him a pointed look. “There’s only one doctor and the rest are bots, so they won’t translate sarcasm very well in their reports.”

“You’re assuming someone reads the reports,” he countered, trying to look charming but managing to make her wince. She wrote reports. She would want them read. Properly considered. “Sorry.”

“No, you’re right. I don’t know that they do true review. It might all just get stuck in the computer and an overall analysis spits out for an overview. As long as most of us are doing all right, they’re satisfied the program works.”

She looked so disheartened at the prospect of that, he found himself arguing the reverse. “Or maybe there’s someone that reads every one. And they go back and tell what’s really happening, and we can turn this place around.” He did his best to sound as if he believed that was actually possible, but her dubious expression did nothing to suggest he was successful. So he shrugged. “It could happen.”

Hana rolled her eyes. “I don’t need you to lie to me.”

“It’s not a lie!” he insisted. “Do I think that’s the most likely course? I’ll grant you that one, but it doesn’t make it impossible.”

She sat with pursed lips and a rather sour expression for a moment before she cleared it. Took a sip. “You’re right, it doesn’t. A warning, though. If they give you any tablets for pain or just for vitamins, people wait outside and nick them fast. The guards don’t appreciate what they’re for, so they don’t do much about it.”

“What did you get taken?” He looked her over quickly. He hadn’t seen signs of pain in her. And surely, if a deficiency was bad enough, there would be some sign somewhere. But her skin looked healthy. Her eyes were their normal colour. But it troubled him he might have missed something.

“A few vitamins. They’d done an injection, and that seemed to help enough. I guess we’ll see soon enough.”

His eyes darted about the room, as if he could possibly tell which of them had done it. It would have been ages ago. Far before he got there to protect her.

“Did they hurt you when they did it?”

Her head tilted to the side. “The injection? Not too bad. But I’m not afraid of needles.” Her brow rose and her expression was clear. Was he?

As if he’d know. Remember.

“Not that,” he clarified. “When they took your tablets. Did they hurt you?”

Hana gave him a placating look, which did nothing for the tight knot of his stomach. “I knew better by then,” she reassured him. As if something like that could reassure him. “They came. I handed them over. It wasn’t worth a scuffle over.”

He wanted names. No, better than that. He wanted her to point out each of the thieves so he could know their faces. He could lie in wait for when they exited, relieve them of their tablets and hand them to Hana. Recompense. Maybe even leave a few bruises just to be sure they got the point.

His hands were shaking.

He glanced down at that, a little surprised at himself. He was angry; he knew that, but this was something more. A thirst for vengeance that had nothing to do with him. Or... not nothing.

It was her turn to nudge him beneath the table. “I’m all right,” she reminded him, and that was better. “And now I have you.”

That was even better.

He shook his head and the tremble in his hands dissipated as quickly as it had come. “They should keep better order,” Ellion complained, assessing the room about them. Some seemed so normal. Or what he imagined a normal person might be. Speaking to their neighbours. Laughing. Making playful swipes at more valuable parts of the breakfast tray, only to be shoved off with scowls that were only half-serious.

Then there were others. Clustered about the edges. Quiet. Dead-eyed. Unless they pinned their attention, fixated on a singular point. A person. A regular sort of person. And then an altercation would be next.

He’d yet to be on the receiving end. Wondered what might happen once he was.

He could hold his own, but no one had truly tested it. Not in any sort of way that would require endurance. It would come. Something in his bones told him that.

“More freedom here, remember? With it comes...” she shrugged her shoulder. “Freedom to do what isn’t right.”

He grunted, because there were things he might say about that. About how she would never steal medicine, even if there would be no penalty for doing so.

But she didn’t truly belong here, did she? They were the degenerates. Had earned their convictions and chosen a life here instead.

He opened his mouth to give some small retort, but she pointed her utensils at him. “And I’ll tell you now, the inspectors are not interested in opinions about this place. They’ll ask you if you have sufficient food, if you are sleeping. Your overall wellbeing. You can answer truthfully, but criticism is often met with a quiet sort of consequence.”

Ellion watched her, wondering if she’d met those already. “Such as?”

Her lips thinned. “Smaller portions. A shift in the tunnels coming sooner than it should.” She glanced down. She’d tried, then. Spoken up. “Keeps you grateful,” she continued. “For what you do have.”

And for those who have too little? Whose shoes were taken, who did not have a spare set of clothes, so they washed their single set in the shower and sat in wet garments in the last light of the suns to hope they dried out again.

Or, if they were feeling careless, sat out in nothing at all.

The guards did not care. And most that did were not particularly pleasing to the eye, so other than a few crude remarks—mostly about doing the world a favour and covering that up—no one truly cared.

No woman did, Ellion noted.

Certainly not Hana.

He took a breath. She had extras. At least two sets besides one on her person.

He grimaced.

One set.

Her shirt had not been repaired after the scuffle. He’d asked about it, and she’d shrugged it off. Told him it would be her summer wardrobe. When she’d be grateful to have less fabric clinging to her in the heat.

But there was something in her expression that told him she was less glad of it than she claimed, but would make the best of it. Always.

He wasn’t sure he could do the same.

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