Jane. Her name was Jane.
The blanket wrapped around her shoulders, she huddled by a small fire in front of the crashed shuttle. The name meant as much to her as the word tree or mountain. She couldn’t make it connect in the blank fog that was her memory. But she remembered other things. Like the sound of rain on the windows, and the unbearable heat of late summer in the city. She remembered playing as a child on a crowded sidewalk beside towering apartment buildings and looking at the sky, wondering what was out there. And she remembered the utter silence of space as she’d looked on her home planet from orbit for the first time. She knew that while this wasn’t earth, she was human.
And the man who sat on the other side of the fire wasn’t.
Tall, broad shouldered and clad entirely in leat
