Page 31 of Origin (Deridia #13)

A week later, the grey-men came. The blue, too, but he didn’t care nearly so much about that. He knew what to expect now. Scans and bots and a bottle to replace the one he’d faithfully taken until they ran out.

The doctor had been right. He wasn’t nearly as light-headed any longer. It happened so gradually he almost hadn’t recognised it at all, too distracted by hard work and long days to appreciate the change.

Atmospheric changes, not a lingering brain injury. It wouldn’t turn to mush and leak out his ears. His memory would not fail him at any moment.

He was fine.

Better than fine, if that was the last night he spent in a cupboard.

He didn’t expect the pang of regret. Of loss. Which was absurd, because the only thing that mattered was Hana. He’d go where she went, regardless if it was an apartment or two cupboards making a tiny room just for the two of them.

He hadn’t thought he’d grown attached. The memories would travel with them. Would settle. Fade into a comfortable fondness for what had been. Paling compared to what they would make instead.

If she’d let them furnish it. Dip into the warehouse and pick out what they needed. A little of what they wanted.

Even if it was nothing but a cot and a blanket, it would be enough. More than enough.

So long as Hana was there with him.

He suppressed a sigh.

Hana noticed. Because of course she did.

They were outside, watching the ship grow from a speck. They’d have to back up soon. Close their eyes. Dust picked up on the descent, and he’d learned from the last time it was miserable to be caught in.

Everyone watched with something near to dread. He couldn’t say he was looking forward to it. But there was a relief. They’d know, today. No more wondering.

The ship landed.

Lines were formed.

Hana was plucked out of line to make a full report, and he followed.

Men and women dressed in grey took their tablets and walked about the compound. Took scans of the new building. Entered each interior. Tapped away at their tablets.

More scans.

Then they moved on.

He saw it all, because he’d been asked to remain outside. Watching everything but what mattered most, while he was trying to remind himself she was safe enough inside. They might strip privileges, but they wouldn’t strip her skin from her bones if they were displeased with her work.

And if they tried, he’d hear it.

He didn’t expect to see Drummond again. He’d genuinely expected him to have been plucked from the project because of poor behaviour, never to be seen again.

But there he was. Just as burly as before, but altered. Changed.

A few approached him. Stragglers from the crew that were still trapped down in the tunnels until they received special pardon from the grey-men. Ellion wasn’t surprised, but he could tell they were.

Drummond shuffled past, eyes without recognition. Lost.

Ellion swallowed.

He’d been frightened. Terribly so when he woke and found himself without his memories.

They’d done it to him on purpose.

The thought was sharp. Pulsing at the back of his mind. It wasn’t an accident in the pod; it was a deliberate measure. As punishment? Or another element to the experiment? Strip away the past, leave nothing but the present, and see what sort of man he’d be.

It left Ellion feeling cold. His hands shook while Drummond walked toward one building. Peered inside.

Went to another.

The others were following behind, but their devotion was waning as it became clear he had no acknowledgement to give them.

Guards came. Pushed them back in line. Drummond was allowed to continue his circuit, acquainting himself with what should have been familiar.

What had been so terrible about him? That it needed to all be stripped away. Did they laugh at him after their visits? Scoffing at what he had been. Who he had become.

He rubbed at his face. Willed himself to stay put. He had to be the first. Hana would know. Rumours would have spread. There was another one. Useless. Without skill. Barely with thought left in their heads.

He wanted to crumple. To close his eye and clutch at his hair, because he’d accepted it was an accident. A fluke. An unintended side effect of too long in a pod.

It was something else to deal with the very people who had done this to him.

Or...

He shuddered. Sank against the wall.

Had his conscience been so badly bruised, so horrified by his own action, his own self , that he’d volunteered? It wasn’t enough to come to a new place, a new planet. To subject himself to the occasional indignities, the risks, he needed more.

To wipe away the old entirely.

Drummond disappeared inside a building. Hana would need to find him. Assign him a bed. A job. Before his head was filled with who he had been. Of how he could exploit and manipulate rather than work hard and build something meaningful.

The door opened. Hana’s head popped out, her mouth already open to call him in. But she took one look at him and frowned. “You all right?” she asked, so quietly it was almost without sound.

He swallowed. Willed himself to calm. To stop his heart racing. To keep the doubts at bay. “Drummond’s back,” he answered, because that was the truth of it, wasn’t it? “They did something to him.” He gestured toward his head. Tried to give her a pointed look so he couldn’t be overheard with his suspicions.

Hana paled. Her head swivelled. “They want to talk to you,” she offered. “Please,” she began, then stopped herself. Sighed.

He could well imagine her plea.

Say nothing.

Please say nothing.

Don’t ask about it.

He was dangerous. Habitation in the compound was for life. That was the contract. They had to keep him from hurting anyone else.

Then why had they done it to him?

The thought was loud, rattling about in his head as he entered the office. Fewer grey-men, the rest busy with their scans. But the one from before, the one that seemed in charge of the entire project, sat flitting through his tablet, head bowed over the desk.

“Walls,” he observed. “A lock to keep fellow prisoners out, but allow the guards in.” He sat back in his seat. “You listened.”

Ellion swallowed.

Clasped a hand around his other wrist to keep from balling it into a fist. He wasn’t angry. He was reeling. And it would not cost him his future.

It wouldn’t.

Because he was more than the wandering, aimless Drummond. He had skills and thoughts and memories, and perhaps they were new. Perhaps they resembled nothing of the man he’d been before, but that was all right.

He liked who he was.

Hana liked him.

Loved him.

And that was enough.

“I tried,” Ellion answered. “I hope you find it a satisfactory alternative for our accommodations.”

The man hummed. “It’s larger than I expected. I’d pictured a little room somewhere. Off the kitchen, maybe. Warmer in the winters.”

It was almost winter now. Mornings were outright cold, and Hana was constantly trying to coax more layers onto him, no matter how strenuous the work was.

“I lacked some necessary skills,” Ellion admitted. “That meant bargaining others for their time and experience.” He so badly wanted to add a snide remark. About how much he was lacking in essentials, but the grey man would know that, wouldn’t he? It was in his file. What he’d done to earn his sentence. Wiping away his knowledge. His skills. Why this was done to him?

He could ask. It wouldn’t be hard. Just open his mouth and let the words fall out.

Lose everything in the process.

The grey man looked at him. Waiting.

No.

Challenging him.

Just ask.

Just press. Make a demand.

Do anything at all.

Ellion took a breath. Held it.

“In exchange, more rooms had to be added,” Ellion continued. His chest burned. Not as hot and bright as when he awoke in the pod, but near enough. “I’m concerned about unrest with the others. I didn’t build it to make anyone jealous. Others should see they can have more for themselves if they want it. I was thinking we could panel off the dormitories. Simpler to achieve, but with similar results.”

He was babbling. Talking about the job, the future, rather than allow himself even a moment to consider saying anything else.

“A bold claim. To suggest our dormitories were not completed properly.” The grey-man paused in his perusal of the tablet. “I can assure you, we are well aware of the need for privacy. People lose all sense of civility when crushed together in tight quarters.”

Ellion didn’t shake his head. Just stood. Listened. “I only intended to offer an alternative for those who require more. To maintain optimal... civility.”

The grey man snorted. “Just so.” He pushed the tablet away. Sat back in his chair and gave Ellion a thorough looking over. “The other apartments are furnished. People are living in them, presumably the ones you intended.” Ellion lowered his chin ever so slightly in confirmation. “Why aren’t you?”

There was much he could say on the matter. Make his fault. Make it hers. All of it would be truthful, but he didn’t much care for that at the moment. He wanted the best outcome. The one that had him carting beds into their apartment, cursing the choice of the upper floor. He wanted Hana to take pity on him and help, curls wild and eyes apologetic, because this could have been done when others were around to trade with, needing their own rooms settled into functionality.

Hana shifted, the first sign of movement since Ellion had entered. She was going to say something. Interject.

The grey man’s head turned in her direction. “Tired of him already? A nearby cupboard is one thing, to share a room is another?”

Hana opened her mouth. Took a breath. Shook her head. “I wanted permission first,” she admitted, flitting her eyes to Ellion. “I wanted to know it was all right before I moved there. I didn’t want to do anything I shouldn’t.”

She was pleading with him. For understanding, for him not to be angry with her. He’d known it, of course. How important it was to her to do what was allowed . She cared for his feelings on the matter, but not enough to trespass against the wardens. To bring anything near to censure.

Hurt flared. Settled.

She was afraid.

Of the tunnels. Of losing her position. A home Ellion was making for her.

All of it.

And he would not punish her for that. Would not hold it against her. Not for a single moment.

The grey man sighed. Sat up straighter. “You are a good girl, Hana,” he offered at last, and it curdled Ellion’s stomach even as it seemed to please her. “Perhaps a little too cautious at times, but I can appreciate your dedication to the program.”

Ellion saw it. Another world, another time. If there was no him , this man might prey on that goodness. The eagerness to please. Could twist it and use it for his own selfishness, and Hana might not realise his intentions until it was too late.

He took a deep breath, willing the thought from his head. Had he known that to happen to someone? Did he imagine it because he knew the signs to look for, the circumstances that led to such happenings, or because he’d committed it himself?

The roiling in his stomach, the disgust that suffused his very being, assured him that was not the case.

He opened his eyes, not even aware he’d closed them. The grey man was looking at her, but not in any lascivious way. She wasn’t prey, just a tool. Something useful, to offer the boon of praise and the falsehood of teamwork and have it be enough.

“I also appreciate creativity,” he turned his head toward Ellion. “And growth. I admit, it has taken longer than expected to see much of that.”

He nodded to himself. “Your crew will help with the unloading. Replace the supplies that were utilised. Just in case of other... projects.”

He waved his hand.

Dismissed him.

Them?

Ellion turned his head to check, but Hana stayed, and he had work to do.

Another grey man followed him out, directing him where to go to begin the unloading. Others were pulled from the line. A few from their apartments, already cleared by medical.

Not as long a day as he’d feared. The pallets hovered of their own accord. It merely took a push and a direction to get them moving. Stopping them again was a little fiddly, and there was more than one crash into other pallets before they got the hang of it all.

But they did.

And Armen watched because that was his job, looking far too pleased by the increase.

Ellion could see his mind at work. What could be expanded. Improved. Perhaps even tweaked just for the sake of doing so. Make it nicer. More attractive.

Less a prison. A little town.

Not that he could picture what one looked like.

But Armen could.

He got in line for his check-up.

Didn’t have to wait long before Hana joined him.

A different doctor this time. Ellion knew to ask for music this time from the bot.

Another supplement, but his levels looked better, and was he still experiencing those headaches?

Out the door.

Where no one waited to rob him.

He was antsy, wanting to get started, but he waited. Would always wait. Hana appeared, looking nervous as she waited to be pounced on, but there was no one. Well, there was him, who wrapped his arm about her waist and breathed into her ear.

“We’re moving.” He felt her shiver.

“You’re only excited about it because you don’t remember doing it. It’s miserable, every time.”

Ellion shrugged. “The truth at last. You weren’t worried about pleasing the warden at all, you just didn’t want to pack.”

Hana snorted. Followed him to the warehouse.

The beds were all the same. Wouldn’t be, when he was done with them. The back of the cupboards were removed. He could keep going. Sheer it all down until there was just a frame for the cots themselves, but Hana told him to leave the posts and tops.

And she was the boss, after all.

They wouldn’t have made it without the use of the hover-boards. Just getting the beds on top of one took almost more strength than Hana possessed, but they managed it. They’d take their own blankets. Fold up their belongings inside them and move the bundles to their new home.

He caught Hana looking at a spare table for the mess hall. She tried to appear as if she hadn’t been as soon as she noticed him. “You want that?” he asked. There was room enough. They might not use it often, because he doubted the guards would be keen to watch them separately for nutritional intake. But there were more, and this was growth , and they’d lug it there if she wanted one.

“We don’t need it,” she insisted. “I was just thinking of home. Or, well, home before. I had a table under the window, and I’d breakfast there every morning with the sun coming in.”

“We need it,” Ellion declared.

And that was that.

They were too busy to notice the line growing shorter. When the grey men disappeared into the ship.

But once the thrusters started, and the ground shook from the force of it, they paused, waiting to see what part would come flying off. What they’d fix next.

But it was calm. Just a ship that turned into a smudge which turned into a dot in the evening sky.

Gone again.

Ellion couldn’t explain what came over him. But he turned to Hana, still breathless from getting the table off the moving device, and he grabbed hold of her. Not just an embrace, but he kept some of his momentum, an awkward, fumbling sort of twirl born from pure exuberance. She shrieked, because of course she did, but that did not dull his enthusiasm.

He stilled. Grasped the sides of her face instead and pulled her in for a kiss.

Because she was here and they weren’t, and it had worked, and he’d been right, and he wouldn’t gloat. Honest. But he could kiss her like he was, and he knew it. Like a man kissed his wife in their new apartment. After a long, miserable day of moving, if one listened to Hana.

Which he usually did.

But not this time.

“We’re going to miss supper,” Hana chided, when he let her have a moment to breathe. He kept their foreheads together, relishing the moment. The accomplishment.

Relishing her.

Maybe she’d been right. Maybe this was better. To have certainty and security.

But he also wouldn’t have her hungry. He’d decided that long ago.

So he forced himself to pull back. To take a breath and keep from pushing her back onto their new bed. The one where she’d spread out the blankets to look like it was one large mattress, inviting them in. No more deciding who would be most squished. Whose bed they would love in. They could just roll from one to the other.

Theirs.

Their bed.

Two chairs beneath the window. To catch the light. Sit and think and look out the window.

A life.

He ached inside with the want of it. That he had it, that it was already his, was a balm. One he couldn’t believe just yet.

But he would, and that soothed him in other ways. The quiet assurance that this was right and very much real.

They went to supper. He couldn’t remember what he ate, too preoccupied with getting her back to their own room.

He tugged at her hand when she made to head toward the washroom.

They had their own, didn’t she remember?

Because women liked that best.

Her cheeks flushed, and she was so beautiful.

Drummond walked by, no more confident than he’d been when he’d left the ship itself.

Hana stilled, and even Ellion’s blood cooled.

Hana swallowed. Gave Ellion a nervous look. “Would you like some help?” she asked. Because she was Hana, and she noticed when someone was in trouble. Felt the draw, the pull, to do something about it.

“I don’t know where to go,” he admitted, and the arrogance seemed to have been stripped from him along with the rest of his memories. Perhaps they’d done more. Dug deeper. Removed more than they had with Ellion. Stripped pieces of his personality, the elements they found distasteful for their program.

He’d need to talk to her about it. Would. When he could get the words out. How he felt and how he doubted.

Except... did he really, any longer?

How much did it matter, who he was before?

They’d talked of such things before. Her faith in him never wavered. She loved him. Still would, even if he was the pirate she suspected. If he was a mortician. Or a soldier, who knew of war and pain and the dead.

She loved him. Would love him.

It didn’t make him grateful. He could not go that far. But he could appreciate his life. The one he had made.

She was guiding Drummond toward a dormitory after making sure he’d eaten in the earlier shift.

The one they’d made, Ellion amended.

And knew he’d be waiting to show her their private washroom. What it meant to get to be naked in their own room. To sleep that way if they fancied it.

He’d wait forever for her.

But he could hope it wouldn’t be that long.

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