“Commander Porter. You’ll excuse me for not standing.”
The tall, thin Commander nodded curtly before he visibly forced himself to relax.
“No problem, Admiral.”
“Sit, sit.” Kendra waited for him to get comfortable. Leda didn’t swarm over for attention; she was fast asleep on a perch for once and Kendra was grateful for it. This was going to be tough.
“How have you been?”
Porter started to rub his left arm, stopped, and gave Kendra a sour look.
“The medics have finally cleared me to return to duty. More like the damn programmers,” he clarified, extending the arm and then pulling it back. “It’s been a hell of a thing.”
“I hadn’t realized the difficulties involved in an artificial arm.”
“And leg,” Porter added.
Ken Porter, then Captain of a converted Solarian cruiser, the TFS BonHomme Richard, had nearly died during the final battle of the Artemis War. His ship had been literally blown in two during the fighting, shattering just forward of the bridge. Half of the officers and crew with him in the compartment had been sucked into space by the sudden decompression.
He hadn’t been so fortunate.
The debris from the damage had mangled his left side, arm, and leg. As it was his skinsuit had barely managed to keep him from explosive decompression long enough for his XO to drag him out of the vacuum into a less-damaged corridor. There his nanobots had started working on repairs on their own but they were crippled almost as much as he was.