“Emy, Emy, wake up,” said Pinky, poking and prodding the sleeping young Hynerian as she hovered above her bed, the soft pink light from her oculators illuminating the room like a gentle nightlight.

“Go away Pinkster,” moaned Emy, half awake. She pulled the warm sheets over her head and wiggled back into the fetal position, hoping Pinky would get the message.

“I think you’ll want to hear what’s going on,” cooed Pinky. “I got the lowdown directly from Goldie. You’d be mad at me if I didn’t tell you.” Pinky was a gift from her seafaring father. He had purchased the cogitor south of the Nusian peninsular on one of the trips Emy had stayed home to attend an art seminar. Pinky was going to be a birthday gift until the sudden climate change; as such, she became the last material exchange between father and daughter.

“Pinky, we’ve been over this before. I’m not interested in the gossip you exchange with Goldie. Besides, can’t you see, I’m sleeping. Now go away.” Dang cogitors, thought Em, if they can program them to gossip why the frail can’t they program them to understand the most basic of Hynerian needs, namely, sleep.

“Emy, my darling dear child, this isn’t gossip, it’s a plan and if you don’t wake up, it’s going to happen without you. You see, Rog is—“

“A plan? What are you talkin bout Pinkster?” said Emy, sitting up in bed, her hands corkscrewing the sleep from her eyes. “This better be frailing good or we’re going to have another talk about your non-sentient access.”

“I know, I know, I do love to exchange potential useful information on occasion.”


“Promise. No gossip. Rog went to rescue Mairi and has got himself in a hornet’s nest of trouble. Poor lad, I know he means well. Such a handsome–”

“Pinky, please.”

“Sorry child, I do get carried away. As I was saying, Rog is in trouble. Las fire you know. Not good. Outnumbered I hear.”


“Yeah. Sorry. Kyra, Von and Yul are going on a rescue mission. They’re over in Von’s quarters right now. If you don’t hurry, you’re going to miss them.”

Emy jumped out of bed. The thought of not being included fueled her desire to be seen as an equal. After the mission on Neraj she felt a certain bond with Rog, shared experiences no one else could claim. Besides, he liked her art work. That alone was worth rescuing she reckoned.

Kyra came tumbling out of Von’s quarters and right into Emy causing both to fall to the floor. “Emy, what are you doing up?” asked Kyra, caught off-guard.

“You’re not going without me,” said Emy.

“I don’t think you want to go where we are going,” responded Von.

“Thanks for making assumptions about what you think I want or don’t want,” said Emy.

“We don’t have time for this,” interrupted Yul with just a slight irritation in her voice.

“I can handle a weapon as well as anyone here,” said Emy, her tone indignant. “What do you think my father taught me on those long journeys south of Point Unknown? Yul’s got a pulse rifle, model 945, last used in the Vespusian campaign–single charge, multi-fire. Von, you’ve got duel proton magnum las blades, modified for Blue Onyx divisions and rumored, I believe, to be issued exclusively for Zing Tao use. And Kyra,” Emy paused, “I don’t know what the frail that is in your left hand.”

Kyra looked up at Von who just shrugged his cheeks with a slight tilt of his head.

“It’s a Ji Shield,” said Kyra. “Von, get her equipped and be quick. We’ve got to move.”

“Whoa, whoa whoa,” snapped Yul. “You’re not—“

“She’s coming Yul. We need all the firepower we can manage,” answered Kyra.

Emy smiled. She knew opportunity when she saw it. Sticking it to Yul was just a bonus.

“Come with me,” said Von. “I think I have just the thing for you.”

Categories: Story, Pinky, Emy, Kyra, Von, Yul