Page 8 of Origin (Deridia #13)

The office itself differed from the other buildings. Not surprising given it was meant for the use of people not convicted and sentenced, but rather those with enough funding and connections to buy space on a planet and stick a prison here. Or not quite a prison. Some sort of colony where none of the occupants were allowed to leave.

So a prison.

The construction wasn’t wooden beams and stone. Everything was neater. Planed by machine rather than by hand, every surface smooth. The floor was even covered neatly by a rug rather than bare. There were pictures on the walls. Some artistic, made with paint or inks and ornately framed. Others were life-stills with tiny labels underneath. Groundbreaking. First wall.

First contact.

That one held his attention longer. A host of guards facing opposite to an interesting hodgepodge of races. He wished the pictures were in colour, but they were robbed of it. Perhaps to look more cohesive as they hung upon the far wall, but it only served to irritate him. Made it all look... somehow removed from reality. Better than it was.

There were windows, but not like the shuttered openings in the dorms. These were reinforced. And earned him a reproach from Hana when she caught him touching. “You’ll leave fingerprints,” she complained, and he removed his hand quickly after.

The material was cool beneath his fingers. Smooth, just like everything else. “What is the point of a lock when a rock could gain you entry easily enough?”

Hana was seated at a low table. It was clear of everything but the papers she’d brought. “A rock would bounce off,” she explained. “Carbon-something. Shield, maybe? I can’t remember. Nobody uses glass anymore.” Her head tilted. “But you thought it would break. Maybe that means something.” She tapped at her chin, considering. “Not a main city, then. Somewhere more remote. Where you didn’t get one of the retrofit contracts.”

He had no idea what she was talking about. But he supposed she was right. He saw a clear window and expected it could be broken.

Which might mean he had broken one. On purpose? Or maybe he’d been doing something and one had simply shattered, and he’d been nearby to witness it.

He thought of the number on his arm. Rubbed at it absently. “Would you know if I was a thief?” He asked, not really wanting the answer. But also... wanting it. “You said it wasn’t one of the common ones. So... would you know?”

Her expression turned from contemplative to gentle. “You’re not a thief,” she soothed. “I’m not sure what you are, but not that.”

Which was a comfort. Explained little, but he didn’t like to think he was like the people charging at the newcomers, stealing for their betterment. Leaving others with nothing.

The temperature was odd. While the other buildings grew stuffy beneath the dual suns, this one was almost uncomfortably cool. Perhaps it was the strange materials used to build it. Or that it was oriented differently, so it was mostly in shade. Why had they not done so with the others, then?

“Why does it feel like that in here?” Ellion asked. He would have to content himself with plenty of unknowns. But he could have some, especially when she was near and so obviously liked to share what she knew.

“The only place in the whole compound with conditioned air,” she explained, leaning back in her seat and sighing a little. In contentment, he realised. She... liked it. “That didn’t factor into my decision to take the job I did, but I admit it’s my favourite perk.”

She twirled in her seat. Which meant a seat had been positioned on some sort of mechanism that allowed it to twirl, which was... interesting.

Impractical. Or maybe not. Because it allowed her to move to the table at the side. Where a tub and frame were stashed on the floor. The tub was already filled with a murky water, and he sincerely hoped she did not intend for them to drink it. He would fetch them fresh.

Which would mean leaving her in the office alone. Which he would not do.

So they both could go fetch fresh. Together.

Then she took the papers she’d so carefully collected and began tearing them into haphazard strips. Which was... not at all what he expected to happen.

The frame went into the water. Not a frame. A strainer? Or a strainer on a frame?

Then the strips were added on top of that.

“So let’s see,” Ellion commented from his spot by the window. He liked he could see the main field, which he supposed had been considered when the layout of the compound had been chosen. “You like your air unnaturally cooled. You know how to make paper from scraps.”

“I didn’t,” Hana corrected. “Before. So that isn’t a hint of my past life, if that’s what you’re aiming for.”

She didn’t sound cross at his meddling, just kept tearing. Soaking. Poking at bits that came too near to the surface of the murky brew of pulp and liquid.

“Someone here taught you?”

She shook her head. Nodded toward a shelf on the far end. “Books, can you believe it? I wouldn’t have been allowed access to a Reader, but they don’t seem to care about the books. And they’re all about survival. Or... not really survival. That would be about building shelter and fire and how to hunt and forage. These are about how to thrive.”

She poked her finger in the water again. “Colony manuals. Which we aren’t, I know. And I gather were some big experiment for when they start the program, but I like to read them. See how we could make things better.”

Her smile dimmed. She ducked her head.

Kept tearing at the paper.

“You think they’d let us?”

She didn’t answer immediately. Just kept at her work and seemed lost in her own thoughts. But she did, eventually. “I don’t think many people here actually want to be different. They’ve been inside too long. Used to be ordered about and told what to do and what to think, and they don’t worry about how we could build something here. Something nice.”

A home.

She didn’t say it. Didn’t even mumble it.

But she was thinking it. It was plain on her face.

“Ah, so there are perks,” Ellion teased. He’d known that already, although he’d thought it limited to how different her tray appeared with each meal. “You can admit the rations are better. I won’t be cross about it.”

She bit her lip, and rather than holding back amusement as he’d hoped, her shoulders fell just a little. Curled inward. “I asked them not to do that,” she said quietly. “Or at least... to let me eat elsewhere. But they said no, because that was preferential treatment. Improved meals were part of the inducement package. There was nothing about private quarters or a personal dining hall.” She took a breath. Swirled her finger in the water. “They’re very... literal. I don’t know if you’ve seen that yet.”

He hummed. Did another cursory glance out the window. “They like to punctuate orders with a cuff to the back of the head. Or an arm. I’ve noticed that much.” Hana stayed quiet, but he caught her looking. “Do they do that to you?”

She shrugged. “Do it to everybody. But I think it’s how they order each other about to, so it’s just a part of their ways. I heard they killed somebody the first week the compound opened. Just by accident. Didn’t realise how soft we were. He was reassigned. The one that did it, that is.”

“He?” Ellion asked. “How can you tell?” He’d rather thought they were all one sex, because none of them seemed the least bit different from any other. All tall. Hard plated. Eyes and palps of similar sizes and shapes. Cloned rather than the luck of a genetic draw.

“If they’re here, they’re male,” Hana answered easily, but some tension entered her tone afterward. “They’ve got their own place. Where the females and children are.”

Ellion stared at her a moment too long because she started to fidget. “You’ve been there?”

Hana took a breath. “You’ll be there too, soon enough.”

He left his post at the window because she wasn’t looking at him. Came around the table and watched the murky water swirl for a moment. Settle. Crisp paper had been turned into a pulp, floating and settling at the bottom. A pity, really. And she thought to get more from this horrid looking mixture?

“I will?” Ellion prompted. He didn’t touch her, but he hoped his words would nudge her into answering him properly. He wanted to know things. She was usually so keen to tell him.

Her throat was tight, which made her pitch higher than it had been. “Well, since I’ll have to go. And you’re my escort.”

He put his palms down on the table. Leaned his weight against them. Watched her swallow, her eyes darting about. Was she nervous? That wasn’t quite right. She was... flustered. She’d been that way before, and he couldn’t account for the reason for it then, either. “And you’ll be there because...”

“Because,” she started again, a little breathless, a little unsure of herself. “It’s my job?”

Ellion chuckled, more air than actual humour, and eased back away from the table a little. She relaxed, her expression rueful. “Your job takes you to the guards’ house?”

They were going round and round. Dancing about the topic rather than handling it directly. He wanted to know why, and it made him press, made him push, and he didn’t know if he was supposed to be sorry about it.

“It’s not a house,” Hana answered at last. “They don’t live like that. Or like this,” she continued, waving her hand at the surrounding office. “They’re subterranean.” She paused. Looked at him. “You know what that means?” She didn’t wait for him to answer, let alone to decide if he did know. “Underground,” she supplied. “Tunnels. Lots of them.” Nothing changed, except her eyes were suddenly unfocused. Very far away.

“That’s the part I hate the most,” she explained. “Being down there. They use torchlight and some sort of stone to light it. But not all of it, because they can see so well. The torches are for us, because we’d bumble around down there, and be no use at all. And that’s... kind of the point of working. Actually... being able to work.”

“Hana,” Ellion cut in as gently as he could. “I’m not following.”

She groaned. Put her elbows on the tabletop and tucked her head in her hands. “That’s the shift you don’t want. Or the punishment. They use it for either, depending on their needs. It was part of the deal for their cooperation. For us to settle here. They get workers, we get a pretend colony.” She pointed to the picture on the wall. The one of first contact if he was following correctly. “A grand experiment.” She sniffed a little. Wiped at her nose with the back of her hand. Stared glumly down at her tub of water with the pulp and the hope of future paper.

“They told us that would be part of it. So it’s not like it was a surprise. They even put in the waver if you have any type of issue with confined spaces. Or the dark. And I said I didn’t because I hadn’t, you know? But when are you in the dark in one of the cities? Light everywhere. All the time. And sure, apartments can be tight, but it’s not confined .”

“Even so, you have to go?” Ellion asked, his voice quiet. Wondering how she’d managed it when it clearly affected her so. “To work?”

She lifted her head and rubbed at her eyes. “New work,” she insisted, tapping the table. “Administrative. They don’t keep track of people too well. They keep count, but we’re all pretty much the same to them. Someone has to go in and identify numbers. Who has worked there long enough. Whose punishments are up. That sort of thing. And at least I’m helping,” she nodded to herself. “Getting people out. So it’s worth it.”

Whether she was trying to convince herself or him, he couldn’t be sure.

The trapped feeling of being in the pod crept over him. The burn of his lungs. Not knowing if he’d ever be able to move again. To function. If it was anything like that, the tunnels must be hellish.

And he’d follow her there. Because she needed him, and it was his job, and she shouldn’t have to be there alone and afraid.

He rubbed at the back of his neck, dread curdling what should be a perfectly fine day. He wasn’t beneath the suns tending to the harvest. Wasn’t scrubbing lavatories in the janitorial team.

Even if the room was a little too cold, this was... nice.

Should have been.

Except he was on edge, his attention returning to the window. “You’re not bad, Hana,” Ellion murmured. A smattering of men crossed the yard. A tussle. A blow when offence was taken to a comment given. Guards looked on, not moving to interfere until one was on the ground. A kick to his ribs was thwarted by a club, which sent the assailant staggering backward. He fell. Didn’t dare get up again.

“What?” Hana asked, blinking up at him as if she must have misheard him.

“You aren’t bad. For taking this job. For accepting the perks they offered you.” He pointed up toward a vent where the cool air blew down on them. “Just in case you needed to hear it.”

She opened her mouth. Closed it again, her attention drifting downward once more. “Thank you for saying it,” she acknowledged, and he nodded, somewhat feeling better for having done so. “I don’t...” she swallowed. “Thanks.”

Was there more he should do? Offer her? If he knew her better, he might touch her shoulder—some instinct told him that. Friends did that. Gave solidarity. Companionship. He wanted that with her, but their acquaintance was short. It might not be well received, especially given their surroundings.

Were there cameras? He chided himself for not checking. Then paused, his brow furrowing.

He knew what a camera was. Knew it, just as he did a table or a chair. Paper. But he hadn’t needed to see it first. To touch and consider. He’d just... known. That things kept locked, kept secure, were usually accompanied by a feed of some kind. With someone watching.

He checked the corners of the room for anything obvious. Then walked the perimeter again, looking for a glimmer. Something off. “Ellion?”

“They watching this room?” he asked. Wanting to be careful with his words, and most importantly, his actions now that the thought had settled so firmly in his mind.

“The guards? Of course. They’ll even open the door sometimes when they want to be thorough, but most of them just peek in the window as they pass.”

He shook his head. “Not them,” he clarified. “Whoever owns this office.”

“Oh,” Hana murmured. She’d finally finished with the scraps of paper. Confetti now rather than strips. Into the water. Pushing down any that clung to the surface. “No. No vids.”

He gave her a dubious look. “An experiment, you called it. A grand one. That doesn’t take observation?” The words came without thought, and she blinked at him in surprise. He couldn’t blame her. He was startling himself. His head hurt, a piercing ache in his temple that throbbed with each breath. But he did not raise his hand to rub at it. Better to feel it. For something to fill the void in his head, even if it was pain for the moment.

“I suppose,” Hana answered. “You can look if you want. But there’s no tech down here for any of that. Nothing to upload. So unless there’s a satellite or a ship...” she frowned. “I never really thought about it.”

She didn’t pale. He doubted she’d done anything wrong while she was in here. Unless they thought twirling was wrong. Reading books they’d left.

He went back to the bookcase.

No more cursory checks. This time, he was thorough. Everything was handled. Opened. Looked through, then carefully placed back precisely where it had been. Over and over.

“Ellion,” Hana repeated, this time more insistent. Had he missed the first time she’d said his name? He was focused, and his eyes hurt, but that was all right. This was something known. Something sure. The implications he couldn’t take the time to consider, about what his past might have been that he’d know how to search rooms and tuck cameras into books—he brushed hard against the spines looking for pins. A chip. There was always something. Tech could do a lot, but even it had limitations. There would have to be something real. Physical.

Findable.

He could feel her staring at him. Wondered how long she’d give him before she would come and stop him with more than the use of his name. Did he want her to do that?

He didn’t want to frighten her.

Didn’t want her to worry. She’d picked him, and if these glimpses of a past life frightened him, what might they do to her?

He forced himself to breathe.

To put the book back.

He still held every item in the room with the highest suspicion, but his investigation would have to be more surreptitious so as not to alarm her.

He turned back. Pasted a smile on his face.

It was the wrong thing to do, because she scowled at him, eying him up and down as if he’d caught some sort of affliction. “Talk to me,” she insisted. “Tell me what’s going on in that head of yours.”

She was supposed to be teaching him about paper. He wasn’t supposed to fill her head with paranoia about surveillance.

He didn’t know how to answer her. Not safely. And he was standing too still and with too much tension, because she pointed her finger at the seat across the table. “Sit,” she insisted. And she was the boss, wasn’t she? Not in the way the guards were. But in the way that meant he’d do what she asked, just because she’d asked it.

Not that there was much of a question in her tone. Nor the set of her jaw. The lines about her eyes.

He sat. Leaned forward. Put his elbows on his knees and looked at the ground. They’d position the feed to watch the table. Not a table. Desk. Were there drawers? He hadn’t noticed. Locked, most like. Files for the inmates? Was his in there?

His hands shook. He rubbed them against his thighs, willing himself to calm.

She was moving. He could hear the roll of the seat against the floor. Even a rug made a sound. The inner workings shifting as she stood.

She came around the desk. Didn’t push herself between his legs and the wood itself. Didn’t trap herself like that. But she was closer than she had been. Able to put her hand on his shoulder. “Where’d you go?” she asked, her voice just a murmur.

He was here. And he wasn’t.

He was somewhere. A different person. In another life. “I don’t know,” he admitted, because that was the truth of it. “But there’s... something.” He waved his hand over his head, a stilted movement that betrayed his frustration. With himself, not with her. And maybe a little bit with the people that had put him here.

“About cameras?” she asked, letting her hand fall away. He missed it. Which was wrong. But he liked the warmth of it, especially in the too-cold room. Liked the weight of it.

Calming.

Real.

He nodded, because that’s what he had in him.

“Like... you worked with them? Security, maybe?”

A generous suggestion given his current position as a prisoner. He shrugged his shoulders, because it was as good a guess as any. “But... isn’t that a good thing?” she asked, still sounding confused. Which was just fine, because he certainly was. “Maybe it’s starting to come back.”

He wanted to look up. Look at her. Except that would mean the camera might see him. There might not be audio, but that meant little to someone experienced. They’d read his lips without much trouble at all.

It took a great deal to keep from grabbing at her. Urging her to turn so her head was turned as well.

This wasn’t rational, was it? Or maybe she’d just been too trusting when they said the compound was without tech.

He was swaying. No. Rocking?

“Come on,” Hana urged. “I mean it.”

Her hands were on him again. On his shoulders. Pushing at him until he stood. Shoving when he hesitated.

She was stronger than he’d realised.

Was she done with him already?