Page 3 of Origin (Deridia #13)

“Much of anything?” Hana mused, looking him over, presumably for signs of how a sleep pod might have maimed him. “Like... anything at all? Or just bits and pieces?”

He shrugged his shoulders as she had done, not quite ready to blurt out the whole of it.

“That’s...” she blinked a few times, considering. “That’s horrid,” she declared at last. “Or... maybe it wouldn’t be. Depending on what I did to get myself placed here.” She motioned toward his arm. “May I?”

He held it a little closer to his chest. “May you what?”

She stared at him a moment longer, then went to her own sleeve. Pushed at it first, then rolled it up toward her elbow. “You should have one too,” she explained, eyes darting between the mark on her arm and somewhere near his eyes. “Part of the deal, coming here. Not as much tech, and they’ve got to keep track of us somehow.”

Black didn’t suit her. That much he knew, staring down at golden skin and ink harshly pressed inside of it. He squinted at the marks, and yes, he could make out the letters. The numbers beneath. Not that he knew what those signified.

She tapped at her name. “Tampering with them will see you down in the tunnels for a full cycle, so I wouldn’t recommend it.”

“Tunnels,” he murmured.

“Not like you’re thinking,” she corrected, although he hadn’t been thinking much at all. “Not like in the cities. These are underground. You’ll see them during work days. But at least you get to come up afterwards.”

She pulled her sleeve back down and laced the cuff neatly. “Can I see yours? We’ll have your name at least.”

He wanted that. Wanted something real, something that was his. More than a spare set of clothes, more than a towel and a comb. Even so, he hesitated. “What do the numbers mean?”

“What you did,” she answered with a forced brightness. “To get here. What you did. Or,” she offered, glancing at him with one of her half-smiles. “What they say you did. Because it’s not always the same thing, is it?”

He waited for her to expound. To tell him what she’d done, and what her numbers meant. But she didn’t. Which was reasonable, surely. But when she nodded toward his sleeve again, he almost wanted to deny her. Just in case. He didn’t really want to know what he’d done. Or maybe he did.

His head pounded.

His ears rang.

But he held out his arm and let her undo the lace at the cuff and push at his sleeve. Her fingers skimmed against his skin, and she was mumbling an apology about it, but he was only half aware. There were scars. Not neat and orderly, but haphazard in their placement. Some thickened, others old, softened with time and age. Strangely white and pale against the rest of him.

Her head tilted slightly when she finally reached the tattoo. It was still red about the edges, his skin working to reject the ink. Hers was older. Healed. “I don’t recognise this one,” she admitted, tapping against the numbers. “So I can’t help there. But it rules out a few of the more common ones, if that makes you feel better.”

Did it?

“Ellion is a nice name. I think I had an uncle with that name a few generations back.” She drew her hands away, but let him keep looking at it. “You’re not him, though. Far too young.”

He grunted. He did not know what his age might be. Or hers, for that matter. Should it matter?

“Young am I?” He had meant it somewhat in jest, but it came out breathless and confused. He wanted his sleeve back down, but that would mean re-situating his belongings, and he wasn’t sure his hands were going to work at the moment. “Could you...” He nodded back to it.

Then her fingers were back. Not skimming anymore, but tugging down fabric and tying a quick knot in his laces. And that was a good thing. Proficient. Not something to be sorry over.

She laughed a little as she looked him over, shaking her head. “Not too young,” she declared. “You’re somewhere in the middle.”

She patted his wrist when she’d finished, and it was a familiar gesture. Kind.

She was kind.

Was he?

“Means I’ll have plenty of time in this place,” he mused dryly, trying to make sense of that. There shouldn’t be a sense of loss. Not of a place he couldn’t remember. People he’d left behind. Or maybe there was no one. Maybe he was a killer, or a thief, sticking to the dark corners of the world with no one to care he was gone.

“It’s not so bad,” Hana soothed. “Can be sort of nice. Sometimes. It’s harder when there are newcomers. No offence,” she added quickly, but her eyes were warm and he’d no offence to take. Not when all he had was what she offered him. “People get too excited. Shifts things around. It’ll settle back down. You’ll see.”

“Sure,” he whispered, feeling like that was the furthest thing from the truth, but not willing to argue with her.

She let him sit for a while longer. Not talking. Just... being.

But it couldn’t last. Of course it couldn’t. Because time wasn’t theirs. Not really. So she urged him up, and offered him a hand to do it, but that meant giving her access to his things and he really shouldn’t do that. Had to protect himself. Had to make sure she was as trustworthy as she seemed.

He took her hand anyway.

And if the world spun, he breathed until it was calm again. Until he was sure his legs would support him.

Until he could direct his eyes back to the map she pulled out for him. Pointing and prattling about directions and times and who he ought to look out for. Maybe she was a teacher in another life. Or a director. Or one of those people that stood out in the roads when the lights were out and...

He couldn’t remember the rest. But there was someone that did that. Or something like it. And maybe that was her.

Keeping people safe. When they’d let her.

“You’ll want your bunk first,” she was telling him. “To put your things. There are boxes to keep your extras. They lock, don’t worry. That’s why stuff has to get snatched before they can be tucked away properly.”

He nodded, because he was supposed to, and then they were at a sprawling building. Two levels. Maybe three. Or perhaps the ceilings were taller than he expected and it would be one large cavern, with all sorts crammed in together in pods.

There were no locks on the doors. She pushed it open easily enough, and he stepped in, waiting for her to follow. “Your humble abode,” she gestured with a smile. More strained than it had been. He couldn’t think why.

“Aren’t you going to take me the rest of the way?”

Her eyes darted about. He could make out a couple of figures. A room beyond. A stair to the left. The lights were low. Or perhaps the windows were simply too few to provide adequate light.

Nothing that should make her nervous.

“Oh, well...” she took a step backward.

“Is it men only or something?”

She snorted, shaking her head. “I think they tried that once. Didn’t last very long.”

Ellion frowned. “So then, what’s the trouble?” It shouldn’t matter to him that she was going to leave. Putting it off for a few more minutes wouldn’t change anything. But she was... real. Made him feel as if he was a person, not an empty shell where a man was supposed to be.

She swayed a little. Rocking back on her heels and shoving her hands in her pockets as her attention drifted between him and the open door beyond. “Gives the wrong impression,” she blurted at last, still smiling, trying to smooth the way for her refusal despite her obvious discomfort. “Someone could see and then others will hear and they’ll think... things. And yes, I know most of them are on dayshift so hardly anyone will be in there, and those that are will be exhausted from night-work, so they’ll be asleep, and maybe I’m being silly about it but I’d... rather not.” She glanced at him. “If that’s all right.”

He shook his head, the door at his back. Held open. Waiting.

“You don’t owe me anything,” he reminded her. “You can do what you want. Doesn’t matter if I don’t understand.”

It did, but it shouldn’t. Not to her. These were his problems, and he’d need to get the hang of it all soon enough. She wasn’t a crutch. Why then did he want to cling so badly?

Her attention darted inward again. “Maybe not,” she agreed. “Still feel guilty for saying no.”

Was he supposed to say something to make her feel better? If he was, he didn’t know what it might be.

“Well, you shouldn’t,” he said at last, because she was waiting for something, and he could see her wrestling with doing what he wanted rather than what mattered to her. Something about appearances. Reputation?

His head hurt again.

“Just... let me show you on the map at least,” Hana offered, stepping closer and flipping it over. “Your assignment is here, see? Second level. The bunks are in cubbies, so you’ll have a little bit of privacy. I mean, it’s still open. Have to be able to check on everybody, don’t they? She tapped on the diagram. Lavatory here. Showers here.” She ran her finger down the list. “Looks like you’ve got days, but you missed pickup, so consider this a free day.”

Free. Right.

“You’re on the same meal rotation as me. So I’ll see you later?” He didn’t know why it was a question. Did she not want to?

“Yes,” he affirmed, his voice hoarse. “Later.”

She eyed him speculatively. “They’ll come get you,” she assured him. “Take you where you need to go. No one is allowed to skip meals here. Strong workers need proper nourishment, you know?”

He didn’t, but he nodded anyway.

She took another step backward. “Well... thank you. For letting me show you around a little.”

“My pleasure,” he answered, surprised to find a hint a teasing in his tone.

It earned him a chuckle from her, as well as a yell from inside to shut the door to keep the suns out, so she hurried another few steps. “Go on,” Hana urged. “You’ll be fine.”

He sincerely doubted that, but he nodded anyway. “Course I will.”

He went in. Shut the door.

And it was even dimmer than he thought, and he had to blink a few times to even make out where he was meant to go. Up the stairs. Even though his feet felt as heavy as his head. A free day. To sleep? That probably wasn’t wise. He needed to adjust. To think. To remember.

He was halfway up the stairs when the door opened again.

He glanced behind him, because some instinct told him to keep a careful stock of his surroundings, his body already tensing for the newcomer.

Only to be met with a mass of familiar curls peeking around the corner. She looked one way, then another. Then shut the door as quietly as she could.

Then noticed him standing there and startled, a hand coming to her chest as she tried to keep quiet.

He gave her a questioning look, and she hurried toward him. “Apparently I like a job finished properly,” she offered in way of explanation.

Which only confused him more, given her adamant refusal not a moment before, but if she expected him to argue, she would be left sorely disappointed. It wasn’t relief he felt. Not exactly. He would have done it. Made it the way up the rest of the stairs. Read off the numbers etched into the wood of each bed tucked into its cupboard.

But he liked her doing it. That was all. Which maybe was wrong. Or maybe just meant he liked her company, and that wasn’t a bad thing, was it? Better than the echoing emptiness of his own head.

He watched her rather than the rows they passed. Watched her peer and squint, then turn to him with something near to triumph when she found the correct bunk. “All yours,” she gestured, as if it was something grand rather than the wooden cupboard with a thin cot, a box fastened to the foot. Each had a closed side, so he was afforded the privacy of his neighbour by their own wall.

It wasn’t as crowded as he expected. Or, at least, they weren’t even as close to one another as the pods had been in that wretched ship he’d woken in. There was space enough for him to pass Hana without touching.

She kept her voice low when she opened the trunk. “We’re not fancy enough for biometrics down here,” she explained with a hint of apology. She pulled out a plain metal key from the confines. “You can hide it, or just keep it on you. Somewhere hidden. Ankle is better than your neck. Harder to pull off.” There was a cord tied around it and she handed it to him, nodding to his belongings.

When he made no movement, she made a sort of coughing noise and fiddled with the key. “If you don’t remember how to use a mechanical lock, that’s normal.”

He grimaced, but he hoped the light was too dim for her to notice.

“Who knows, maybe you’re one of those locksmiths they shuttle about the quadrant, opening ancient locks. And you’ll use this, and it’ll all come back to you.” She dangled the key in front of him, her voice teasing, but her eyes kind.

His throat ached.

His head too.

He took it from her, not believing her in the least. Because if a droid in a med bay with all the millennia of medical advancement couldn’t put memories back in his head, a key and a lock wouldn’t do it either.

He tucked his belongings neatly inside.

Listened carefully as she explained how to position the key.

Full rotation, she said. Very important. Halfway back. Pull out. Hide the key when no one was looking.

She even turned her back to him to demonstrate her point, going so far as to cover her eyes with her hands.

Evidently, no one included her.

He chose his elbow. Not on the arm with the tattoo, just in case any of the guards insisted on seeing it. It felt an odd weight, a tension against skin that wasn’t used to it, but there would be no mistaking if it disappeared.

“Finished?” she asked, not turning around in case he needed more time.

“Yes.”

“And you’re sure it’s secure?” She eyed him up and down, then got a strange look on her face afterward. “Not that I’m doubting you, of course. I just... I know this is a lot. Especially when you don’t remember the briefings.”

A hitch in his breath, and he almost regretted putting down his belongings. They were something to grab. To hold. To squeeze when that panicky feeling settled in his chest, threatening to choke him. “Hana,” he began, not wanting to insult her, but knowing it needed to be said. “Could you possibly...” He hesitated. Watched as her smile fell and her expression grew to one of concern. “I’d like that to remain private.” He didn’t know why, but it seemed important. Something deeply personal that he didn’t want spread about the camp.

Her mouth opened. Closed again. “Of course,” she said at last, blinking twice before she shook her head. “I’m sorry I didn’t...” she huffed out a breath. “I should have made that clear before. Anything you tell me will remain between us.” She glanced down at the floor, and his head tilted, trying to tell what she was thinking. “Many people don’t trust me,” she blurted out, a burst of sound that was louder than the whisper she’d been using before. She flinched when she realised, turning her head to see if any would scold as they’d done down below. But all was quiet.

Even so, her voice lowered. “Because I’m willing to work for the guards. But I’m not a snitch, despite... things you’re going to hear. About me. I’m not a spy. So if they know, it’s because they were told by the transport, all right? I just... don’t want any misunderstandings.”

It all came out in a rush, and it took him a moment to process what she was saying.

“Has that happened before?” he asked, matching the quietness of her tone.

She rolled her shoulders, not quite the shrug of before. Almost as if a tension had settled that she was trying to dislodge. “You could say that,” she hedged.

“I will keep that in mind,” Ellion promised, and he watched some of the worry ease out of her. “Assuming I wake up in the morning and I haven’t forgotten everything from today.”

Her eyes widened. “You think that’ll happen?”

He huffed out a breath that was half sigh, half laugh. “It’ll be a surprise for the both of us.”

She swallowed. Rubbed her hand against her sleeve. “Then I’ll get very good at this tour.”

He did laugh then. More breath than sound, and she followed, which was... nice.

Made him feel far less alone.

“Do you want to stay here? Rest some?”

He glanced at the cot. Thought of his aching head. The burn in his throat.

“I locked my map inside,” he nodded toward the chest. “Maybe you could show me the rest of the facilities first?”

He wondered at what point he’d become an imposition. A leech on her time and goodwill.

But evidently it wasn’t yet, because she smiled and waved him to follow her.

Which was somehow nicer still.