by Ava D. Dohn
* * *
“Well hello, Colonel.” Darla opened her eyes to see Ardon standing beside her bed in the Shikkeron’s sickbay, gently holding her hand. “You do have a way about you, cutting things so close to the line and all.”
In a weak voice, Darla asked, “Ilanit? What of Ilanit? Is she…”
“I’m right here, dear.” Ilanit stepped up. “Just got the wind knocked out of me.”
Darla sighed with relief. “I can die now…” She drifted off into a deep, dreamless sleep.
It took Darla two days to recuperate sufficiently to take up her duties again. During that time, the captain of the Divulsion visited her, delivering many letters of appreciation from the officers and crew of his ship. She was overwhelmed at the display of gratitude that was heaped upon her. It was difficult for her to think such attention was honest and sincere or deserved. Her heart was torn over how she felt inside versus what she observed.