Page 21 of Origin (Deridia #13)

No one needed an announcement when the ship came.

It was a reminder of why the field was so open in the middle of the compound. Seeing it nearly filled up with a craft was almost shocking. They’d spent the morning in the office. Scrubbing away any sign they’d ever stepped foot in the place. Not that she’d ever let them leave it anything but tidy. But her paper-making supplies had to go. The books she looked over three times before she was certain they were in the correct order. The ledger was placed on the desktop. Writing supplies beside it. Not the black she used, but another colour. Green? It looked murky and dark in its bottle, but the utensil itself was enamelled. A slash of gold against a deep green. Or maybe it was all decoration. Fancy pens for fancy people, who thought a prison could be an experiment. That people could be reduced to a name and a number, and their needs didn’t matter. Not even if you explicitly asked them to voice them.

He would not be bitter about it. He wouldn’t.

Later, he could be. When he was lying beside Hana after the day was done. When he’d made sure she was safe and comfortable, and he could lose himself to his own thoughts. In all their pessimistic glory.

Optimism was for the daytime. When Hana was awake and looking at him.

In the dark...

He sighed. Hana caught him. Gave him a questioning glance. He shook his head. Watched the ship descend until his eyes dried out from the wind and dust it kicked up.

Didn’t dare offer they could watch from inside the office.

She’d locked the door. Which confused him, since they’d presumably be entering soon. They knew she had a key, didn’t they? They must.

But she seemed sure of her little rituals. That they were what needed doing, and he kept his mouth shut and helped as best he could.

Which mostly entailed keeping out of her way as she bustled about.

Fussing with every little thing she could put her hands on. Taking an old rag—or had it been a shirt at one point?—and dusting each surface. Rubbing away any fingerprints.

There was a nervous anticipation about the compound as the ship came into view. Then descended. Some even ducked into the dormitories, as if guards wouldn’t easily find them when it was time, pulling them out to be looked over.

Hana made them stay outside. To be available. Not in the first wave, she insisted. So don’t hover. Or look too anxious. This she added with a stern look in his direction, as if he was the one that was worried about it all, and overly so.

Which, of course, he wasn’t, but he played along for her sake. A formal salute. Even clicked his heels together. “Respectful, not anxious, boss.”

Which earned him a roll of her eyes, but she at least took a full breath afterwards and that’s more than she’d managed for the last quarter hour, so it was well worth it.

Dread was closer to his true feeling. As if doom was landing and he had to stand and watch and pretend he didn’t see it coming.

There was a great hiss as the doors opened. Two of them, one on either side. He waited for some inkling, some remnant of familiarity that he knew about ships and their crafts. That he’d a life as a mercenary, taking to the skies and descending for hire.

He leaned toward Hana, his lips near her ear. “Maybe I was a pirate,” he posed. “And I’m a brilliant pilot. And we sneak in and take the ship when they aren’t looking.”

Her eyes widened, and for one moment, he was absolutely certain she thought he was serious.

But it was enough to get her to look at him. To remember he was there, and she didn’t need to be trembling so. And if it earned him an elbow to his middle, it was probably deserved. “Is that the sort of best behaviour I’m to expect?”

He chuckled, more breath than sound. “Probably.”

She made to elbow him again, but he was faster, and he caught it. Holding her arm instead. Rubbing his thumb against the soft crease of her elbow, covered even as it was by her sleeve. “Just nice to know we have options.”

She snorted. “As space pirates. As if that wouldn’t put as right back here when they’d caught us.”

“You’re assuming they would? After I’ve already told you of my brilliant skills piloting?”

Her head tilted. “They caught you once already,” she reminded him. “Have those skills improved during your incarceration?”

There was a prickle of something too close to hurt at the reminder, which was absurd given he had no such skills. To his knowledge, at least. And, of course, he hadn’t grown better at anything since he’d been caught.

Hana sighed. Leaned into him briefly. “But I’ll keep the offer in mind,” she agreed. “I know my way around a replicator. I can keep us well fed for the journey.”

It was enough to smooth away the feeling that definitely wasn’t hurt. For a lightness to loosen the tight coil of dread in his stomach, if only a little.

People came out. Washed. With trim haircuts, precisely styled. Their clothing was neatly tailored, greys and deep blues, with patches that presumably showed their ranks and station.

It meant nothing to him. Just reminded him a little too closely of his wakening in the pod, and it was his turn to feel the edge of panic about his vision.

He hated that memory. Wished it could be purged with the rest of them.

But he didn’t get to choose such things. Had to live with it, just as everyone else got to carry around their worst memories. Hana didn’t complain. Didn’t speak of them coming in her dreams. Prodding her from her rest and insisting it would happen again.

And this time, there would be no Hana waiting for him. Ready to gently explain this new world to him. To be his friend. To comfort him.

He’d be alone. With nothing but fists and survival to occupy him.

He woke too often like that. Poised and ready to defend himself. Then, once he realised he was with her, his focus shifted to defending her instead.

But thus far, they’d been left alone. And how long that good fortune might last, he didn’t know. It couldn’t, could it? They’d come. See, they were happy. And any that weren’t would try to snuff it out. To put an end to the jealousy by the most permanent of means.

He let go of her arm. Not because he wanted to, but because it was safer. She was a job, for the moment. Nothing more.

The guards approached the uniformed group. Words were exchanged, but they were too far to hear the conversation.

And then they were moving. The grey in their direction. The blue to approach the first prisoner they could find, ushering them toward the med bay. It wasn’t what he expected. He thought they’d be rounded up. Formed into groups. Perhaps a speech of some sort as greys wove through the ranks, giving them the first of their inspections.

“There are many people to get through,” Hana murmured to him. “They try to work as quickly as they can. The goal is to finish all of us in a day. None of them like to sleep down here.”

Ellion could well imagine why. This was a drop ship. The larger vessel would be held in orbit, where comfortable beds and safety measures were in place. A terrible fate, to have to live and sleep as the prisoners did.

It didn’t take long for them to be approached. He was largely ignored, other than a glance. Hana held the attention. Just one grey, the rest moving off to attend to other duties.

Did she know him? He was smiling at her as if he recognised her. “Our ledger-keeper!” He greeted, and watched as Hana bowed her head slightly, her hands clasped together. “I must say, there are few who have kept the position as long as you have in the other encampments. You must be well respected here.”

Her smile was thin. Wooden.

Would the man notice? Ellion glanced between the two of them as subtly as he could. Staring would be inappropriate given Hana’s own posture. Diminutive. Passive. But he was her guard, wasn’t he? They would expect the opposite from him. Watchful and ready.

He settled his shoulders. Kept from letting his attention linger too long on any of them. “Have you acquired an apprentice?” the man enquired, letting his gaze finally settle on Ellion a while longer.

“There were... incidents. I requested and was granted a personal escort.”

A frown. “That is not the kind of behaviour we have come to expect from our little compound.”

Hana swallowed. “It is possible I overreacted,” she offered, bending her neck further. Ellion hated every moment of it. More than anything, he wanted to see what a switch punch would do to the ridged nose that was just slightly too long. Would it break? Swell? Maybe a bit of blood would trickle down and stain the too-white teeth.

He took a breath.

Did not indulge his fantasies.

“Now, now, we value honesty. Transparency. If you thought yourself so much in danger to request a personal guard, then that is worthy of investigation. We want our members to thrive, don’t we? A chance to better themselves.”

They were words from a book. Or maybe an advert he didn’t remember. Added with a smile that was overly stretched. Charming, if one didn’t have the discernment to tell how false it was.

Or perhaps he was simply in a temper. And nothing anyone said or did from this expedition would appear genuine to him. Not until they left again and Hana was all right and her place was secure, and it was back to quiet evenings and soft smiles across the supper table.

“Of course we do,” Hana agreed.

“And that can’t happen if our ledger-keeper is being hurt.” He turned to a guard. “Have protocols changed? Why has this been allowed to continue?”

The guard let black eyes drift over Hana’s person. “Her skin is the usual colour. No bones are protruding. She has been adequately protected.”

The grey man raised his eyes to the sky and drew a deep breath, mumbling something about patience. A prayer, maybe? “Let us adjourn to the office, shall we? Perhaps a perusal of the ledger will prove more fruitful.”

Hana nodded.

He did not have to hide his keys. He wore them proudly on a belt, full of confidence that no prisoner would dare try to steal them. He unlocked the door of his own accord, and they watched his head swivel back and forth as he took in the state of the room.

It made Ellion almost glad for Hana’s fastidious care of it. Almost.

“Sit. Please.” He made his way to Hana’s usual seat, and Ellion was struck with how wrong he looked there. The room that had felt a haven was suddenly stiff. Imposing. Hana sat across from him, and he thought she was aiming for good posture but couldn’t quite keep her shoulders from curving inward. She was tense. Frightened. And helping meant staying quiet. He didn’t sit beside her but kept to the back of the room, just beside the door. He was a little surprised he hadn’t been asked to stay outside. Since surely there would be no threat to her while in the company of the grey man.

The guards themselves were dismissed with a wave of a hand, likely to be summoned back once the ledger was read. “Anything of note you could summarise for me?”

The ledger opened, the thick binding cracking under the weight of its own pages, lying flat as it bent and adapted. “I was asked not to accurately record some of the deaths,” Hana answered, her voice wavering. Speak clearly, but not harshly. Be truthful, but risk recompense from the guards once the grey man was gone.

A host of contradictions. Of knowing what to do and when and how, and she had every right to be nervous. To think that one wrong word would be the end of their strange little normalcy.

“Is that so?” He paused, one page between two of his fingers, ready to turn but not quite allowing it to fall. “And did you?”

“No,” Hana admitted. Rubbed her hands against her knees.

“Excellent. Because your loyalty is to who exactly?”

She gave a dim smile. Tried to straighten her posture but was not terribly successful. “The program.”

The grey man nodded, offering her another of his smiles. “That’s correct. And I appreciate what a difficult position that has placed you in. So I will not take it as an insult that you felt the need to commission your own support rather than trust in the safeguards we have provided for you.”

There were eyes on him. He could feel them prickling at his skin, but he did not engage. He hadn’t considered this part. That they would find fault with him being with her, even in a professional capacity. Would have him reassigned to something more productive , and he’d simply have to hope she would be alive and well when they met at mealtimes.

He would not panic. He felt strangely outside himself. His body knew what to do, even as his mind twisted and coiled with every anxious thought. Stand quietly. At attention. Ready to be called upon, but not obtrusive to the conversation. A fixture in the room rather than a participant.

“How much do you know of your... escort, was it?”

Hana grew very still. “Not much,” she answered, her words carefully chosen. “His number is not one I’ve seen before.”

The grey man snorted. “No, it wouldn’t be. And he hasn’t cared to share the details? Just follows you about and keeps his history to himself?”

She’d promised to make enquiries if possible. Now Ellion wanted to yank her back. Insist it was fine. Don’t talk about him, don’t ask. Something was wrong in the way the man was talking. As if it was all some big jest wherein only he knew what it meant.

Which he did.

Because he knew what Ellion did. Who he was.

And he thought it amusing she’d chosen him to protect her.

Ellion didn’t react. Even if something cut him fairly deeply. Something that urged him to go forward. Grab the man by the collar. Push his head toward the tabletop—not enough to maim, but if it drew a little blood, it would help make his point.

And he might coax a few answers from the man with a little persuasion. Pain was an excellent motivator. As was the fear of pain. And Ellion knew how to do that, no matter the implications.

And then he would call for the guards. And there would be no more escorting, no more Hana at all, because he would be trapped in the tunnels. For one season? More?

What were a few answers worth?

If it was for his sake alone, he knew his answer. If there would be punishment, he would endure it.

But he wasn’t alone. And Hana would cry for him. Would fret and worry, and someone could take advantage of his absence.

And nothing that man might say would be worth that.

But she’d promised, so as gently as she could, she broached the subject. “I think something went wrong. When he came here. He doesn’t remember much. Or so he says.”

That was added solely for the grey man’s benefit. No part of him believed she doubted him. So it had no right to sting, even for a moment. He didn’t get to decide those things though, did he?

The grey man had the audacity to laugh. Bright and greatly amused, and it was an insult. Made anger cut through the momentary hurt of Hana’s feigned mistrust. Made it harder not to look, not to hate, and that was new.

He didn’t hate the guards.

The closest he had come were the faceless people that had hurt Hana. Bullied her.

Yet that wasn’t a fixed point. Wasn’t sitting across from him. Mocking him and the injury done to him. Made him wonder if it wasn’t done on purpose.

“You’ll have to forgive me,” he offered, wiping at his mouth, still smiling. Hana might. Ellion wouldn’t. “I believe he is not being entirely truthful with you, my dear. A little too convenient, don’t you think? Let’s him play the innocent, when he knows he is anything but.”

He shook his head, the matter evidently closed. Finally settled the page beside the others, perusing the ledger as he was meant to have done from the start.

“The Narada do have excellent strength, don’t they.” This was not meant to be answered, even Ellion could tell that. They had a name after all. Somehow, it didn’t help.

“I have heard more than one complaint of our fragility,” Hana nudged. A careful reminder the guards were in the wrong. That they must control themselves. The prisoners could not control how soft a bone might be in comparison. Nor did they deserve to have a head bashed in because they were paralysed with fear of the dark.

The grey man frowned. “There are protocols in place. All guards are trained in the most delicate parts of the anatomy. Any correction is to be given elsewhere.”

Ellion wanted to argue that any blow, given with enough force, could make even the strongest part of the body delicate . But his opinion did not matter.

“Of course,” Hana nodded.

There was a tense sort of silence for a moment before the grey man forced a placating smile. “However, there is nothing wrong with a refresher,” he soothed. “And I can assure you, we will discuss the matter.”

Hana’s answering smile was forced, but present. “Thank you.” She sounded more grateful than Ellion possibly could have managed.

He nodded, taking up the pen. Opening the cap. Inspecting the tip. He did not dip it in the ink, but made a single line at where the writing ended in the ledger. He turned it about before handing the pen to Hana. “Your signature, please. Wherein you declare these recordings are truthful. That you bear the responsibility if we discover them not to be.”

And how was that supposed to work? Interrogate the guards. Have them discredit her findings. Oh no, they had not struck the prisoners. They’d simply fallen over dead. Who had told them that? Hana? Well, she should get shoved in the tunnels for her lies. Maybe she’ll be more truthful when she comes out again.

He wanted to leap forward. Wrench the pen from her fingers. But he couldn’t do that.

Because she had been truthful. And Hana would not stand for falsehoods, even for her own safety. And he couldn’t expect it of her, could he? Not if he wanted to keep her favour.

He just had to do what he could to support her. Patch her up afterwards.

Tell what he’d seen, if asked.

He suppressed a grimace.

He hoped no one asked.

She took the pen.

Put name to paper.

Glanced to Ellion and tried to smile at him. Just the quirk of the corners of her mouth. Trying to promise him it would be all right.

He wanted to believe her, but he didn’t. Whether the instincts were old ones or new, they were tugging at him. Telling him to get to safer ground. Take her with him. Hide her away until the inspection was over. Even longer than that.

When the guards would forget, she hadn’t obeyed their order to fabricate the ledger.

Hide them both away until they were forgotten entirely, then. Taken for dead.

They could live in the wilds beyond the wall. Watch the crafts drift past, to and from the tunnels. Remember what it was like to have lived there, feel sorry for those that still did. Then go back to the home they’d made. The one with no one to watch, no one to wonder about them. Where they could live and thrive, as the grey man suggested they were supposed to do here.

A pleasant dream.

One that wouldn’t happen. Couldn’t.

But he could tuck it away. A fantasy. Something that didn’t need to be plausible. Even practical. Just something for him to go to when he needed it.

“Excellent. Now, off you get to your physical examination. Health is of utmost importance, as I’m sure you know.”

Not a wince, but it was a near thing.

“Of course. Thank you for your time. And for this opportunity.” She nodded toward the ledger.

His smile was the most genuine he’d offered. “It is a rare thing to find someone who understands the importance of our work. The gratitude is mutual, I assure you.”

More drivel, but Hana seemed to enjoy it. She nodded her head and didn’t seem as tense as she had been.

Ellion waited to be called back for a private word. To be mocked a little more, for bits of his history to be dangled until he broke. Showed how angry he was at the entire situation.

But Hana left the office, and he ducked out after her, and there was no call to return.

She was his job, and he was allowed to keep it for the moment. Keep her.

His relief nearly choked him.

It was short-lived because she was moving toward the med-bay. Wasn’t going to talk to him, just do as she was told.

He reached out. Snagged her hand. Pulled her to where they might have some semblance of privacy.

“We need to get checked out,” she reminded him, as if he’d somehow forgotten.

“We will,” he assured her, shoving a hand through his hair. That wasn’t as neat and tidy as it once had been, but was starting to grow. It would be gangly and irksome if he didn’t find a means to cut it soon. “I need to hear something first.”

She looked at him, finally. Her features were drawn up. Still worried, then. About him or about the inspection, he couldn’t be sure. He squeezed her hand, waiting for her to soften. Hoping that she might.

Received only a quirk of her brow because he was quiet for too long and they had things to do.

“I’m not lying to you,” he swore to her. “No matter what he says. Tell me you know that.”

He waited for her expression to cloud. For her to tug her hand away. To tell him he was being ridiculous, that they had been ordered to the doctors and to stop wasting time. They’d talk about it later.

So it could eat away at him the rest of the day until he’d tied himself in knots.

Could lead him on the dance she hated.

Until she had to put his arms about her. Fix hers about his shoulders. Threaten to hum or maybe sing while she taught him a different dance instead.

He wouldn’t mind that part. But the rest—the strain and the worry for hours on end...

She reached up with her free hand. Cupped his cheek in her palm. “I know that,” she declared. Stood on tiptoe and brought him down so she could press a single kiss to his lips. Just a brush. A peck. No lingering. No invitation for him to deepen it. To reassure himself with something fundamental. Theirs.

“Stupid man,” she declared, shaking her head. But her eyes were warm, and she squeezed his hand so sweetly that he couldn’t be cross with her. “You think he knows you better than I do?”

He swallowed. Tried to tamp down the craving to pull her back to him. Perhaps not even to ravish her with kisses, but to embrace her. To hold her tight because she believed him, and he knew she would. Had. From the very beginning.

Even so, he worried. Doubted her.

And he was sorry for it. “No,” he assured her. Sheepish. Because it seemed absurd when she put it like that.

“No,” she repeated. “He most certainly doesn’t. And if I recall correctly, a man I very much care for insisted I protect myself. Which might entail having to let some untruths slide now and again.” Another kiss, somehow even more brief than the last. His cheek, that time, because he was too slow to lean down properly and catch her before she retreated. “I’m sorry he didn’t share more, though.” She softened, then. Let her thumb rub across the back of his hand. “I could have pressed.”

He shook his head. “I’m glad you didn’t.”

She glanced up at him, eyes wide. “Really? I thought you’d be cross.”

He sighed. Allowed himself to indulge. To wrap his arm about her shoulders and pull her close for just a moment. “Not with you,” he promised her.

With everyone else? Maybe. Probably.

But even that was easing as he held her to him.

They were going to go into the med-bay together. And they would come out again afterwards. It would be fine. They would not hold him down. Shove tubes down his throat. Stick him in a pod.

They weren’t.

It took him a moment to realise Hana was the one whispering to him rather than the swirl of his own thoughts. How she knew his worries so well should trouble him. Maybe even shame him for confiding too many with her.

But there was a comfort in it. To be known so well. He wanted to be that for her in return.

He kissed the top of her head. Would pretend a bravery he didn’t feel.

Let her go.

“Doctor,” he declared. As if it was his idea to go. Which it might have been, if it was solely for her. He wanted to know she had enough vitamins in her system. If he truly needed to track down the thieves and place blame where it belonged for any deficiencies.

“Doctor,” she agreed. “Maybe this when I get to see you naked.”

It was not at all what he expected for her to say, and she got a full three steps away from him before he got moving after her. “Naked,” he repeated. Surely they didn’t shove them all in at once, bared and utterly lacking in all dignity.

Not that he would mind being naked with her.

But... just her.

No one else. Not that he was particularly self-conscious. Or maybe he was. But it felt intimate. Private. Something to be shared when there were plenty of kisses and caresses to steal away the awkwardness.

At least, he hoped that’s how it worked. Maybe it wasn’t. And he’d peel off his clothes and she would laugh because there was a scar on his back that looked funny. Like something from home.

Or maybe he bore too many marks and freckles. Had too many hairs smattered about and she’d think him unattractive.

“That was horribly unfair,” Ellion chided when he caught up to her. Saw her snickering at him, eyes bright and not at all apologetic. “What if I had thought you were serious?”

“It was going to happen sometime,” she added with a shrug. Then hesitate just a bit too long. “Wasn’t it?”

His mouth grew dry. Which was another mark against her on his fairness list. Not that he’d hold it against her for long. Maybe. Or he’d use it to his advantage, coaxing apologies from her along with other manners of comfort. A massage perhaps. Shirtless, since she seemed intent on seeing him without clothes on.

And he’d take over her bed, and she’d have to perch on top of him so get the access she needed. Murmur how sorry she was in his ear, her tone not at all remorseful, but willing to play along because the game was rather fun.

Or would be.

Once he was relaxed and pliant beneath her palms.

When he could turn over and grab hold of her, coaxing in an entirely different way for very different reasons.

“This is a very odd seduction,” Ellion complained. Except it wasn’t exactly a complaint, not when it was working. Or would have. Until he remembered nothing had changed. They still were without their privacy. Could not be assured they wouldn’t be interrupted.