Doctor Who_ The Also People - Ben Aaronovitch [20]
There seemed to be no malice in them, just curiosity, but Bernice knew better than to ascribe human emotions to an alien face. 'I was following the smell of the bread,' she managed lamely.
The woman smiled, displaying neat, white, reassuringly omnivorous teeth. 'The cooking field has to be partially gas permeable,' she explained. 'Otherwise the bread doesn't rise properly.'
'I can see that would be a problem,' said Bernice.
'My name is saRa!qava,' said the woman. 'Would you like some breakfast?'
She said her name was Dep and her eyes were the colour of emeralds.
She stood a couple of metres from Chris watching him with her head cocked to one side, one slim hand resting lightly on her hip. She was at least as tall as he was, narrow waisted with long arms and legs. Her green eyes were curiously round and slightly too large, her nose was small and flat. A smile played around a large mobile mouth. A cascade of thick, almost ropey hair hung down her back, falling as far as the backs of her knees. Her skin was the colour of dusty amber and she was stark naked except for a tiny pair of bikini briefs. A silver brooch was pinned to the strap over her left hip.
'You're a barbarian,' said Dep, 'aren't you?'
Chris wasn't sure how to answer that.
Dep took a couple of steps towards him. As she did so her hair twisted itself into a single braid that coiled itself around her waist in an unsettling manner. Chris took an involuntary step backwards.
'What's the matter?' asked Dep.
'Er. Nothing,' said Chris hastily. Trying not to flinch as the braid uncoiled from around Dep's waist and wrapped itself around her left leg. The tip of her braid, he noticed, was careful to stay out of the water.
'I'm going to come closer,' said Dep. 'You no be afraid, I not harm you.'
Chris glanced back across the beach to the bar. He could just make out Roz slumped in her seat; of Bernice there was no sign. Dep stepped slowly up to him. Something, her hair, caressed the back of his thigh. He was close enough to see the tiny drops of perspiration that beaded her forehead. Her disturbingly mobile braid of hair looped itself companionably over his shoulders.
'Now,' she said. 'What's your name?'
It took Chris a surprisingly long time to remember.
Bernice watched the toddler making his break for freedom. The boy had cunningly detached himself from the older children by pretending to wander aimlessly around the lounge. Then having looked around to make sure that the other children were too engrossed in some kind of holographic entertainment to notice him, he made a dash for the kitchen. Pounding along on his sturdy little legs he headed straight for the short flight of stone steps that led down from the lounge to the kitchen.
He's going to fall down those and hurt himself, thought Bernice. She opened her mouth to warn saRa!qava who was sitting with her back to the lounge. Before she could speak the boy bounced against an invisible barrier at the top of the stairs and sat down hard. The toddler's small face screwed up in an expression of intense concentration – Am I hurt? Should I cry? Should I just get up? If I cry will someone come and give me some attention? The boy opted for a bit of attention-seeking behaviour and opened his mouth to get a good big lungful of air in preparation. By this time saRa!qava had noticed Bernice's distraction and had twisted in her chair to look. The boy started to howl impressively.
One of the older children, a boy of about eight or nine, walked over and scooped up the toddler with practised ease. Interesting, thought Bernice; she'd half expected one of the house drones to take care of the child. They're not really machine dependent at all. If she remembered it correctly the older boy was saRa!qava's nephew and the toddler was her grandson. It was hard to keep track because all the children seemed to refer to saRa!qava as 'Mama', even the ones that had just popped in from next door.
It looked like a loose super-extended kinship set-up