Kellis adjusted and her movement became more fluid.
“Better.” Fallon stepped closer and drew back her fist. She held that posture. “Now look here. I’m going to step forward with this punch. What does this tell you about my weight?” She stepped back and slowly pantomimed the motion. Kellis awkwardly stepped to the side to dodge, then brought her foot down on the back of Fallon’s weight-bearing knee.
“Good.” Fallon stepped back to reset. “That’s an excellent tactic. If you’re fast enough, you can also attack the other leg to make sure I go down. Or you can hit my body from the side. If you do that while I’m moving forward, I’m almost certainly going to go sprawling. It depends on your desired effect.”
Fallon walked her through that exercise, showing her in slow motion how it would work. “Okay. Let’s practice.”
After she repeated the exercise for the hundredth time, Kellis had improved the timing and the confidence of her attack. Fallon was pleased to note that in spite of the significant exertion, Kellis was not exhausted. She clearly kept herself in excellent shape.
“That’s enough for today.” Fallon let her arms fall to her sides.
“No, show me something else. Teach me how to throw a punch.”
Fallon couldn’t say no to something like that. So she spent the next two hours teaching Kellis how to strike. Then Kellis asked for more.
But sometimes enough was enough. “You need a break. Food. If you want to do some more work later today, I’ll hook you up with Ross. He’s one of the finest instructors the academy has ever had. And I’m going to make him your personal trainer.”
Rather than look daunted, Kellis brightened. “Really?”
Fallon laughed. Only someone with the heart of a BlackOp would be so pleased.
Fallon got on the lift with Kellis. They went up a deck, where Kellis got off, then Fallon went down to Deck One alone. Her shift had ended two hours earlier, and she was starved.
She lingered as she passed the Bennite restaurant but continued to the noodle place. She was in the mood for lots and lots of carbs. And soup. And slurping. The fact that the noodle shop had dim lighting was also a plus. She felt like being alone. She’d said more in the past weeks than she had the entire year before all of this had started. At least it felt that way.
She selected a bowl of noodles in a seafood broth that reminded her of a dish her mother often made. When it arrived, she took time to savor the steamy aroma, so hearty and fresh smelling. Her chopsticks seemed to dig in of their own free will, though she remembered her manners enough to slurp the noodles properly.
She received some offers to join others, but politely declined. Yet when she finished eating, she found herself reluctant to leave. She liked the hum of voices and the clank of dishes. She liked seeing people she knew talking and laughing. This was life. One evening among many, as time wended its way forward. It was friends and family and work and everything she was fighting for.
She finally paid her tab and left the restaurant.
Wren’s face lit up when the doors opened and she saw Fallon. “Hi. I didn’t expect to see you tonight.”
“Why not?”
Wren gestured her into the quarters and toward the couch. “Because I just saw you, and even though you’ve had some personal epiphanies, you’re still you.”
“You expected me to want some distance,” Fallon translated.
“Bingo,” Wren said in Earth standard.
Fallon laughed and sat down with her. “I don’t think I’ve ever heard you say that. It sounds funny coming from you.”
“I’ve been studying. I thought it would be nice if we could talk in your language.”
Fallon felt a little bad about what she would say next. “Actually, I grew up speaking Japanese at home. I think of it as more mine than Earth standard.”
“Oh. Well, I’ll start working on that, then.”
Fallon laughed. “We could speak your language,” she said in perfectly accented Sarkavian.
Wren’s mouth fell open. “You sound like a native! I didn’t know you could do that!”
“It wasn’t part of my cover.”
“Well, what else don’t I know about you?” Wren leaned back to peer into Fallon’s face.
“There is one thing I’ve been wanting to tell you,” Fallon admitted.
Wren’s forehead crinkled with apprehension. “What?”
“That fish thing you make with the herb sauce. I don’t like it. It gives me indigestion and I end up burping all night.”
Wren laughed in relief. “Why didn’t you tell me before?”
“You made it the first time and told me it was your favorite. I didn’t want to hurt your feelings, so I said I liked it. But then you kept making it, and I could hardly admit to not liking it at that point.”
“So you kept eating it anyway?” Wren giggled and Fallon felt the vibration through her chest and stomach.
“Yeah.”
“That proves it. You definitely love me. Nobody eats food they hate on a regular basis to spare the feelings of someone they don’t love.”
“Maybe Sarkavians wouldn’t. But Japanese will put up with a tremendous amount of displeasure in the interest of being polite.”
“Really?”
“Really.”
“Hm. I guess I’ll have to study being Japanese.”
Fallon smiled. “Nah. Not really. I haven’t kept many of the traditions out here.”
“You might want to take me there to visit sometime, though. You could show me where you grew up, where your parents lived. I’d want to be able to behave myself appropriately.”
“Oh. Well, actually, that reminds me of something. You know you thought my parents were dead?”
Wren nodded.
“They aren’t.”
“You have parents?” Wren sat up in surprise.
“A brother too.”
“Oh, wow! I definitely want to meet them. And hear all about them. I mean, if you want me to meet them. Someday.” Wren went from enthusiastic to uncertain.
“I’d like you to meet them.” She was sure her parents would like Wren. Everyone did.
Wren
