“Go,” I say gently. “I can do this. I’ll take care of the ship—you take care of your parents. But . . .” I pause. “If you see anyone . . . or anything—if it’s not safe down there, come back to me. Right away.”

She gives me a slight nod and runs to the stairs without a word.

I turn and face the ship.

Chapter 60

60

AMY

MY HEART THUDS IN MY THROAT, AND IT MAKES ME WANT TO throw up. I’ve been so focused on everything else—Elder, the murders, the mystery—I’d nearly forgotten the most important thing.

My parents.

Trapped in ice, in the cryo level, sleeping.

Helpless.

I race down, down, using the handrails to leap the steps two at a time—and the deeper I go, the more the smoke wraps around me.

It’s an acrid scent, like burning metal, a smell so sharp it cuts my tongue like a knife. A snot-yellow dust covers my skin. It’s as fine as baby powder, but it stings like bites from fire ants, and I use my sleeves to beat it off. I tug my tunic up over my face so it covers my nose and mouth, and I let my hair down, hoping I can get at least a little protection on the back of my neck from it.

My foot slips, and—fortunately—I grab a handrail. Just in time. There are two more steps—and then nothing.

I lean down, gripping the handrail for support. The bomb was centered on the elevator that extends from the Hospital to the cryo level, just as I’d suspected. Shrapnel and the force of the explosion have ripped through the metal stairs here as easily as if they’d been made of paper.

We’re cut off from the cryo level.

For one crazy moment, I consider jumping. How many feet could it be to get to the bottom? These steps don’t go directly into the cryo level. I’m a couple of feet above a solid metal surface. There must be a hatch or something leading down to the cryo level. There’s a pillar between the stairs and the elevator—maybe there’s a door built into it. But the yellow smoke is heavy and impenetrable, and judging by the ragged edges of the metal on the stairs, I bet there’s plenty of debris below that could kill me. I stare as hard as my watering eyes allow me to, but all I can see is a mangled mess of shattered metal, twisted beams, and blown rivets.