Nanakorobi yaoki . . . fall down seven times, get up eight. Except I’d lost count. I was probably on nineteen or twenty by now. What wisdom would Robo Mecha Dream Girl 5 contain about that?

Dad was alive, but I couldn’t wake him, and I didn’t know how badly he was injured. I hesitated. Dad’s omnicard allowed me to access almost anything on the ship. Only a few very sensitive systems actually required biometric scans, which were too complicated for a secure area like a spaceship. The smartest thing for me, for my friends, was to focus on escape.

I looked at Dad lying on the floor, fresh blood oozing from where he’d hit his head, but otherwise so peaceful, like he was napping on our couch at home. And I remembered going to my first Knicks game when I was nine years old, and eating popcorn for supper when Mom left town, and the absolute devastation when he’d told me he and Mom were splitting up.

And naturally I remembered Mom, her eyes sightless and staring, those white alien cataracts like a film trapping her soul.

My friends needed me.

Dad needed me more.

I hesitated, hovering over him. My powers were changing. Growing. Maybe I’d adopted Imani’s or Reed’s healing abilities. Even as I thought it, though, I remembered my inability to turn invisible in the corridor. Still, it was worth a try. I pressed my hands against Dad’s wounds and willed every ounce of healing energy I could summon into his body.

Nothing. At least, no change I could see. And I didn’t have time to mess around any longer. Maybe my friends were out of range, or maybe if I tried a bit harder, a bit longer, I’d find a connection to that healing ability. But I didn’t know how long Dad had, and I couldn’t afford to wait.

Grinding my teeth, I reached for the comm device embedded in the wall. Dad had his own wrist comm, of course, but they were attuned to individual brain waves and DNA; his would be of no use to me. I swiped his card to activate the comms and said, “Medical. Come in, please.”

No answer, not even a faint buzz to indicate a connection.

I frowned. Medical should never be deserted, not ever. The light on the touchscreen was green, so I knew the problem wasn’t on my end. “Medical?” I repeated. “This is an emergency. Come in, please.”

Nobody answered. I closed my eyes, braced myself, and said, “Security. Come in, please.”

Nothing.

Okay, now I was worried. This was Omnistellar we were talking about, the most paranoid corporation in the entire solar system. There was no way, none, they didn’t have an alert security force with their comms active.

Unless security was too busy responding to another threat to deal with random calls?