17
She woke up with a bright light in her face.
“Hey, you okay?”
A man’s voice.
“Ashley,” Michiko mumbled.
“I’m not Ashley. Is that your name?”
“Rudy,” Michiko said.
“I’m not Rudy, either. And you don’t look like a Rudy.”
“Hassan.”
“She’s delirious,” the man said.
Michiko reached up. “We have to save them.”
“What is your name?”
“Ashley, Rudy, Hassan,” Michiko said.
And then she faded out of consciousness.
Hyperspace. She stared into hyperspace.
She was on a bed.
In a small room.
On a ship.
Purple plasma danced across the window.
She moved her arm, but it stung.
An IV.
She didn’t feel pain.
She felt good.
She laughed.
The plasma dancing across the window reminded her of a song.
She sang quietly, and then burst into hysterical laughter, putting her hand over her eyes
