Emerald Flight: “Star Wing” (continued)

Elizabeth slid into her tunic, gritting her teeth lightly against the twinge of discomfort as she slid it over her left shoulder. The heat from the shower had helped somewhat, aided no doubt by the analgesic that Hope had injected her with.

I won’t be swinging a racquet with that arm any time soon, she considered sourly.

Wincing in anticipation of another sharp surge of pain as she fastened the waistband of her uniform, she was relieved when she felt only the slightest twinge from the strained ligaments and muscles. She still could not decide which hurt more: the physical pain from her injury, or the embarrassment associated with tripping over Ensign de Marco during the second match of their game.

And all because I was trying to impress him . . .

A certain amount of off-duty fraternization among the members of the crew was, while not encouraged, expected. Since she had been assigned to be the First Officer, though, she had become more aware of those boundaries. Technically, none among the crew reported directly to her. She was a member of the command staff now, though, so it was important that she maintain a certain level of professional detachment. There was something about Enrique de Marco, though, kept bringing thoughts of him back to her. Since he was not assigned to the bridge crew, she gave herself permission to see might happen if they met while off-duty.

I found out all right, she sighed, breathing heavily. It must be a sign.

She sat down and pulled on her left shoe, managing to do it with surprisingly little difficulty. Encouraged by that, she was surprised at the tight knot of pain when she attempted to repeat the same action with her right shoe. It took her several clumsy attempts with her left hand, but she finally managed to get her foot into it. She stood, wiggled her foot so that the shoe fit more comfortably, and then took a long, slow breath.

Light duty, huh? She looked in the mirror, checking the appearance of her uniform. At least I don’t have to wear a sling.

It was a small consolation. She knew the Captain would review Hope’s medical log at some point during the day and probably ask her what happened.

Assuming that she doesn’t know already . . .

She loved serving on the Emerald Flight. The freshly minted Lieutenant she had been when she had graduated from the Academy would not have believed it. But having served for a year on the ship, and then her brief tour of duty on the Washington, she could not imagine a better posting. The downside, though, of serving on a small ship, with a proportionally smaller crew, was that news of all kinds traveled fast.

Particularly, she mused unhappily, the kind that you wished wouldn’t.