“Zerellian ale,” she said to the bartender as she passed by on her way to Hesta’s table. Then she stopped and turned back. “Actually. What’s that the captain’s drinking?”
“Cordovan whisky,” the captain called loudly, causing a few heads to turn.
“Give me a Cordovan whisky,” Fallon told him.
“Instead of the ale?” he asked.
“In addition to.” She joined Hesta at her table. “Your invitation was a pleasant surprise.”
Hesta toasted her with the whisky. “You know what? I’m aiming at being surprising lately.”
“I have to admit, I find that deeply intriguing. Say more.”
Hesta laughed. Again, heads turned, but people only glanced at the captain before returning to their own conversations, smiling.
Fallon could practically feel the mood of the place lifting. If the captain was in the pub, laughing and having a good time, things couldn’t be too bad, right?
Hesta might be a genius.
Fallon’s drinks arrived, and she toasted Hesta with her own whisky. “To the most puzzling person I’ve ever had the pleasure to serve under.”
She tossed back the whisky and felt a roar of fire race down her throat, into her chest, and quite possibly begin to burn her alive from the inside out.
“A fan of Cordovan whisky?” Hesta asked as she took a swig of her own.
“First time trying it,” Fallon admitted, attempting to seem unaffected by the liquid fire that seemed intent on consuming her.
“First lesson—don’t down it.” Hesta looked like she was trying not to laugh.
“Lesson learned.” Fallon took a drink of her ale. It had its own kick rather than being soothing, but she figured the more alcohol she had, and the sooner she had it, the less she’d care about her burning throat and sinuses.
“To what do I owe the honor?” she asked Hesta. “You could have invited anyone.”
“I invited you.”
“That’s not an answer,” Fallon pointed out. “Since I already knew that.”
“It’s the answer you’re getting.” Hesta’s eyes crinkled in amusement.
“All right.”
They watched each other. Challenging. Measuring.
“You’ve gone quiet.” Hesta sipped her whisky.
“Just waiting for you to start the conversation.”
“I thought I had.”
“No, those were only the preliminary ground rules.”
Hesta laughed again. It was a rich, warm sound. “I should know better than to try to go toe-to-toe with someone in your line of work. Fine. Truth is, I want us to get to know one another better. Nothing more. So in the interest of doing so, you can ask me any question. I’ll give you a truthful answer.”
“Now that’s an opening salvo.” Fallon folded her napkin in a geometric pattern as she considered. “A lot of pressure though. I need to think of a good one.” She took her time, considering her options. Finally she made her decision. “Okay. What kind of name is Hesta?”
“I give you access to any detail, and that’s what you ask?”
“Yep.”
Hesta shook her head in amused puzzlement. “You’re an odd one. But okay. It’s a family name. Comes up among the girls every three or four generations. It’s a variation of the name Hester, which is an ancient Earth name, and means ‘star.’”
“Suits you, being captain of a space station.”
“I never thought of that. Funny.” She straightened. “So do I get to ask you a question now?”
Suspicious, Fallon asked, “Is that why you offered to answer a question? To get to ask one in return?”
One corner of Hesta’s mouth lifted. “No. Sometimes a suggestion is only a suggestion, Fallon. No ulterior motive.”
“Really?” Fallon affected a surprised expression. “What’s that like?”
Hesta smiled. “Somehow, I think you’re being more honest than you are joking. Which would be disturbing if I took time to really think about it.”
“So what’s your question?”
Hesta’s expression grew thoughtful. Finally, she asked, “After you lost your memory and you ‘met’ me for the first time, what did you think of me?”
“Is this a trick question?”
Hesta arched an eyebrow. “No. I’m curious about your impressions.”
“I thought you were regal. Respectable. Beautiful. And I thought you hated me.”
“I never hated you. I resented that you were forced on me. But life happens the way it happens, doesn’t it?”
“Sometimes.” Fallon preferred to shape the way things happened, but that hadn’t worked well for her lately.
Hesta drew a swirling pattern on the table. “Funny how when things go wrong, as in really wrong, that you never know if it’s a long-term disaster or a greater-good opportunity. Don’t you think? It’s only when we look back on history that we apply those labels of good and bad. Or barbaric and heroic.”
“How do you think people will look back on what’s happening right now?”
“That depends on what happens from here. Can we turn it and make it into a chance for improvement, for growth and learning, or does it become something with long-term impact for the worse?”
“It could go either way. But it’s probably always like that during pivotal moments. Is it my turn for another question?”
Hesta nodded.
“Do you regret any of your choices, up to this point?”
Hesta’s eyes unfocused as she weighed and measured her life. Finally, she fixed her gaze on Fallon and said decisively, “No. I’m not much of a regrets person.”
Fallon raised her glass. “Me neither.”
They toasted with the remnants of their drinks. Hesta didn’t order another, so neither did Fallon.
“My turn for a question.” Hesta’s expression became sly. “What’s Ross’ story?”
Fallon had anticipated a number of questions, but not that. “You like Ross.”
“I’m not nine years old,” Hesta chided. “But he does interest me.”
“He’s a good guy. I’ve always liked him. I don’t know him especially well from a personal standpoint, given that he was an instructor. He’s been a good addition to my team. That says a lot, considering how closely the rest of us have worked together for so long.”
Hesta only nodded, so Fallon asked, “Want me to ask him if he likes you?”
“Shut up.” Hesta smiled. “If I decide I’m interested, I definitely don’t need any help.”
Fallon pointed a finger gun at Hesta, who blinked. “What’s that?”
“A thing Trin does. No one seems to know why. Do you know him?” Fallon would bet she didn’t.
“No.
