Tilly woke in a hospital bed. The armed guard at the bottom of it plus the uniforms on the ward made it clear this was a military hospital. That she could see the marine’s face glaring at her meant that she was under guard, not being protected. She tried to shrink down under the covers and then winced as various bits of her hurt. A drip fed into her arm and she couldn’t see who was in the beds beside her. The guard at the foot of her bed seemed to be the only one, so perhaps if any of the guys were here with her she was the most mobile...
The guard gestured and a nurse hurried over. She, in turn, called over the doctor who called a more senior doctor from another part of the complex. When he arrived Tilly spent half an hour coughing on demand, having her vision checked and having various body sounds listened to.
Finally the senior doctor asked, “Now, what do you remember?”
“Last?” Tilly thought. “Being in a bar, finding a bomb and trying to get everyone out. I remember the pressure wave...”
He nodded. “That was over a week ago. You were in a coma at first and there was the punctured lung too. The CO will be down to see you in a while, now you’re awake. We’re sorry about the guard but the chain of command says you’re a flight risk.”
“I ran away from home about five years ago.”
“Ah,” he nodded, “and I’m afraid your ship left without you. They left a message.” He gestured at her bedside table and there it sat. A rolled up scroll of paper stuck in the top of one of Killen’s empty rum bottles.
The guys had gone on without her.