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“No.”
He nods, giving me a brief, gentle smile. Then he puts his hand to his chest. “Shemza.”
“Brooks,” I tell him, mimicking his gesture.
He says something in the rumbling raskarran language. I’m about to try to gesture that I have no idea what he’s saying, when a piping voice speaks from somewhere beneath us.
“He wants to know if you’re feeling okay after being woken from the pods.”
I look down to see it’s not just the three raskarrans at the base. There’s a fourth, a girl. It’s hard to gauge how old she is. She’s tall, maybe the height of a fourteen-, fifteen-year-old, but then the raskarrans are all much taller than me, so perhaps she’s younger. There’s something about the look in her eyes that suggests to me that she’s not as old as she appears at first glance.
“I, uh.” I consider mentioning the memory loss, but given that the raskarrans don’t even fully understand what the cryostasis pods do, I doubt they have any remedies for the fog in my brain. “I’m fine, thanks.” I drop down into a crouch so I’m at her level. “You speak my language?”
“Uhuh,” she says, nodding. “Mama taught me. It’s why I came, so I could talk to you for them.” She gestures up at the raskarrans, and there’s no fear or uncertainty in her expression. “Shemza carried me here because I’m the smallest. He can go quicker carrying me. The others are coming. They’ll be here later.”
Her features are different to Maldek and the others - softer, her skin a less deep green, her hair less coarse looking. I don’t know if that’s because she’s a kid, or because she’s female, or if it’s entirely down to the fact that her mama, whoever she is, has to be human.
“I’m Jassal,” she says, smiling at me wide enough to reveal blunted little fangs.
“Nice to meet you, Jassal. I’m Brooks.”
She’s carrying a small pack over her shoulders, a bow perfectly sized for her smaller frame, too. I wonder where her birth fits in the timeline of things that have happened on this planet since Mercenia first arrived.
“How old are you, Jassal?”
“Nine,” she says, beaming. “My brother is three, but he stayed at the village with Carrie and Endzoh because Mama didn’t think he’d be a good traveller. She had to bring my sister, though, because she’s just a baby.”
Nine. So some five years after I was put in cryostasis, she was born. If the rest of the women in Maldek’s tribe have only just arrived here, how do Jassal and her mother fit into things? A survivor of the original research team?
“What’s your mama’s name?”
“Sally.”
I can’t remember if that’s one of the names Maldek mentioned. Hearing it now doesn’t trigger any memories, but then, would I have even referred to the research team by their first names? Would I have even known them?
Above us, the raskarrans continue talking in hurried voices. I glance up at them just as Maldek glances down at me. He smiles briefly, a question in his expression. Checking I’m okay. I nod, then turn back to Jassal.
“What are they saying?”
“Karvin and Shemza are saying that they’re glad you are both okay and safely back here. Razhan is asking if your mating has gone well.”
Heat floods my cheeks, and I glance up at Maldek to see him standing straighter, chest all puffed up, pride radiating from him. I don’t want to ask what he’s telling them, because one, Jassal’s nine, there are things nine-year-olds don’t need to hear, and two, I don’t want to hear him brag about me like I’m some conquest. There’s nothing to brag about, but I know how this conversation goes, have heard the guys on my unit talk about women. The idea of Maldek talking about me like that makes me feel dirty, but I have to know. I turn to Jassal to ask, but her eyes are already wide, and I wince, wondering what appalling thing she just heard.
“Maldek says he has been teaching you to use a spear and that you’re really good at it.”
I barely have time to process her words before she’s talking again, firing more at me at a rapid pace.
“I want to learn to use a spear, but Papa says I’m still too small, that I need to be a bit bigger, because there’s no one else my size to practise with. None of the other humans want to learn spears. I tried to ask Molly, but she only likes sewing.” She screws up her face to show her distaste. “Papa says I have to stick with my bow for now.”
She takes it off her back and shows it to me. “Do you know bows?”
“I used one a very long time ago, probably when I was about your age. I don’t really remember how to do it.”
“I could show you!” She bounces on her feet, her excitement so bright it’s contagious, and I can’t help smiling at her. Then her expression goes sly. “And you could show me spears.”
“I’m not sure your papa would be too pleased with me if I agreed to that.”
She gives me a ‘can you blame me for trying?’ grin, then something the raskarrans are saying catches her attention, and she looks up, ready to play interpreter again.
