up the spittle and mucus on Terror’s mouth and nose. “I guess this is good practice for when our babies get here.”
Terror managed to lift his hand and shoot Vicious the finger for that remark. Vicious laughed and tossed the gauze as Risk trailed a medic into the room.
“You’re awake,” Risk stated the obvious. “I could hear you coughing from the other end of the deck. You sound about as terrible as I expected.”
Vicious stepped aside as Risk and the medic started to assess him. Risk gave a list of orders before adjusting some medications. The medic got to work, and Risk asked him a series of questions that he answered with one or two nods. When Risk finished his examination, he left, taking the medic with him and more vials of Terror’s blood for testing.
The bed dipped as Vicious sat on the edge of it. He stared at Terror for a moment, his expression one of regret and reluctance. Vicious cleared his throat and said, “Maisie isn’t here, Terror.”
Horror washed over him as the words registered. Dreading the answer, he asked, “Dead?”
“No.” Vicious hesitated again. “Well, we don’t think so.”
Terror shook his head, silently asking what the hell that meant.
“After you and Maisie and Devious escaped 4S-8KN on Flint’s ship, there was a malfunction and the ship was crippled.”
Terror nodded. He remembered that.
“Maise was able to keep the ship’s life systems running long enough to sustain the three of you until rescue.” Vicious must have seen the confusion on his face because he hurriedly explained, “Before Risk and I broke her out of the med bay, I gave her my emergency beacon. She used it to call for help.” He sighed and rubbed the back of his neck. “We were in the middle of all hell breaking loose,” he gestured to his face, “but I managed to get Hazard on our fastest rescue ship. He found you, and he brought you and Devious back.”
Terror frowned. He didn’t try to speak the words, but he mouthed them. “Why only us?”
“Maisie is a wanted criminal. I wasn’t sure we could keep her alive if she was brought back here.”
Terror’s jaw hardened. “And?”
“I sent a bag of provisions with Hazard and told him to put her on a pod. She fought him, but eventually, she agreed to go.” Vicious made a face. “And that’s where things went awry.”
“Vee,” Terror rasped angrily. “Tell me.”
“She disabled the transponder beacon on her pod. We aren’t sure where she landed. If she landed,” Vicious amended with a grimace. “It’s possible she may have been intercepted or crashed or...”
Terror glared at Vicious, and he trailed off without finishing his thought. Balling his hands into fists, Terror could barely contain his rage. The heart rate monitor mounted on the wall began to beep wildly, and he felt the tickle of a cough in his throat as his breaths became shallow. Betrayal consumed him. How could they? How could his friends do this?
Mustering every bit of strength, he snarled, “Get out!”
Vicious recoiled. “Terror.”
“Get. Out.” Terror could no longer hold back the cough tearing through his chest. He sucked in a ragged breath in between gurgling gasps and shoved at Vicious. “Get out! Go!”
“Terror. Please.” Vicious moved off the bed and pleaded for him to listen. “There was no other choice. She couldn’t come back here.”
“Get! Out!” Terror grabbed the only thing he could reach—some sort of suction device the medic had left behind—and hurled it at Vicious. “Go!”
Risk rushed into the room as the suction device hit Vicious in the chest. “What the hell is going on in here?”
Overcome by a coughing fit that rendered him blue and on the verge of passing out, Terror was only vaguely aware of Risk yelling at Vicious and sending him out of the room. Medics flooded into the space, and Terror tried to fight them off as they attempted to give him a sedative. He couldn’t stay in this bed. He had to get out of here. He had to find Maisie.
“You’re not going anywhere,” Risk said, as if reading his mind. “You wouldn’t make it one step from this bed. Calm down!” Risk snapped. “If you die because of your stubbornness, you’ll never see her again.”
Risk’s warning forced Terror to submit to medical care. Hating his weakened state, Terror gritted his teeth and waited for the medical team to leave. Risk gave him a lower dose of the sedative, not enough to knock him out completely but enough to make him