"No reply. Although ... remember, this IS a stolen Reb ship. Maybe ... they're playing dead?"Don and Lessa exchanged a glance, Don sighing."I'm too ni...e. Patch me in." Villa hit a few buttons, and Don detached a small microphone from his arm rest. "Attention, escape pod. This is the Liberty. We are NOT a Reb warship. We are, however, busy. If you'd like to be rescued, you have thirty seconds to respond with your condition and crew number. After that, we go on our way and I go back to bed."There. The doctors say that hopefully my memory will fully return, butnot to expect too much too soon.Nadine is my wife. I remember her now. I know I love her and I know wewere high school sweethearts. She is an attractive woman for her age butshe is not the woman I dreamt about in my coma. She wears hardly anymakeup and seldom wears skirts and satin blouses; she's a pantsuit andcotton shirt girl. Sensible shoes and minimal accessories, that's her.Her hair is usually kept up; tied in a neat bun. A double take while she tried to place the accent. ‘Come now, Captain, you’re in the Canadian Cavalry. You’re in the King’s service.’ She struggled to hold his hands down with surprising force. ‘All right, I’ll grant that, but don’t pull that patriotic crap with me.’ ‘Very well, Captain. If you let me change your dressing, you won’t have to scratch your leg and irritate your infection. Be a sport, sir.’ He sighed. ‘Well I’ve been a sport before, but I’ll give it another try.’ He relaxed and let. I was just thinking…..” I said until she takes my coffee mud. Taking a few steps to the coffee table she bends over more than necessary to put the mug down. Her decently long T-shirt rides up to mid-thigh and wraps over her shapely bum. She is wearing knickers. Turning she picks up a couple of cushions and, as she moves in front of me, I notice two perky nipples. She bends slightly as she places the pillows on the floor. Reaching for my hands for support, she knees before me. No words are.