Elias woke to the sound of a monitor flatlining.
He sat up too fast, and the world spun. His hands clawed at the sheets, and he was on his feet before his eyes could focus. The medical bay of the Aurora was bright and cold, rows of cots lining the walls. Most were empty. But one was surrounded by a knot of white-clad crew, and the monitor above it was a flat, keening line.
"No, no, no—" He pushed through the crowd, his legs unsteady. Ava was there, her back to him, her hands pressed to a small chest. Nia lay on the cot, her face gray, her lips blue. The flatline screamed.
"Move!" Elias grabbed the defibrillator from the wall, but Ava shook her head.
"She's not in cardiac arrest, Elias." Her voice was strained, but steady. "Her heart is beating. The monitor is wrong—it's not reading her
