preparing for their mission, she had asked him twice if he felt sick, but he had denied it each time. Holding his hand before takeoff, she had been able to feel the difference in his body’s temperature. It wasn’t simply his biology. It was a fever.
Considering how many missions he likely completed in a year, it wouldn’t surprise her if he had missed more than one annual physical and immunizations. He had also been weakened by his captivity. With all the travel they had done, they had been exposed to all sorts of biological hazards and contaminants—like the disease mentioned on the skyport infoboards. He has it. I know he does.
For now, she wasn’t going to push it. She decided to watch and wait for him to admit that he was infected. She had seen breakouts of that particular virus so many times that she knew the course of the disease. It progressed slowly. He would develop a rash soon, and after two or three days of fever, the coughing would start. Right now, there was nothing either of them could do about it anyway. After they finished their mission and extricated themselves from the gigantic mess they were about to make, she could worry about finding medical care.
When they entered the atmosphere and dipped under the cloud cover, Maisie was surprised by the beautiful landscape that greeted them. From her mother’s tales of this place, she had expected brutal barrenness, but there was something otherworldly about the tundra that spread out for miles and miles around them. There were thin forests with tall, skinny trees and winding rivers filled with giant blocks of floating ice. They descended even closer to the ground, and she spotted wildlife like birds and deer.
Maisie understood then that it wasn’t the planet’s environment that made it so abhorrent to her mother. It was the experience of living here that had made her mother remember this place as an absolute hellhole. It was the people who abused her, and the hopelessness of being abandoned by her father.
Terror pointed to the left, and she leaned over for a better look. Three ugly buildings came into view. With their weathered stone, they looked so bleak against the skyline. Two of them had caved in roofs. The third was mostly intact and seemed to have all the pieces to its communication array.
That wasn’t what interested her, though. She pointed to the rough crater gouged into the dirt, and the crippled ship half-buried at the end of it. The hunk of crumpled metal looked survivable, but only if the occupants had been wearing their harnesses and all crash systems had been operational.
“We’re landing where I can find cover,” he decided and steered the aircraft toward a thick patch of scrubby trees with vibrant yellow foliage. He landed the ship among boulders covered with a carpet of green moss and pale pink lichen. “This will have to do.”
She nodded and unlatched her safety belt. She reached into the small cargo area for the backpack holding their supplies and the two jackets they had been using since the safe house. The weather wasn’t inhospitably cold, but it was chilly enough they would need the protection of an outer layer.
“Maisie.” He gripped her wrist as if afraid to let go. She gazed at him questioningly, and he relaxed his grip. “If something happens to me, you get back on this ship and you flee.”
She shook her head and tugged her hand free. “No. I’m not leaving you.”
“Maisie!”
“Terror!” She grabbed the front of his shirt and jerked him close enough to feel his heavy breaths on her skin. “We came here together. We’re leaving together.”
He wanted to argue. She could tell. With a resigned nod, he accepted her conditions. He placed his strong hand along her cheek, and she nuzzled into him. “Maisie, we have to be quick. We scout that crashed ship first. We get the chip up to the communications array. We broadcast the message. We get back in our ship. We go.”
She shook her head. “I need to see where my mother lived, Terror.”
“Maisie.”
“Please,” she begged, rubbing her hand in a circle over her chest. “Please, Terror. This is my only chance.”
His stern expression softened. “Thirty minutes, and we’re off this planet.”
“Thank you.” She kissed him with all of her love. “Thank you, Terror.”
“Don’t make me regret this, Maisie.” He tried to look hard as he delivered his warning, but she could see it came from a place of concern.