The Gift

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“Yecch,” the captain said.

Diplomat Max Douglas had to chuckle, but his laugh quickly dissolved into a fit of coughing. The captain was right: the Segoori were definitely unattractive by human standards. The image displayed on the computer screen resembled a squid or snail with a scaly rash.

“What’s that crud?” the captain asked.

Max sneezed. “Dead skin, basically. Their home environment is very rainy. Keeps them moist.” He mopped at his nose with a tissue.

The captain looked from the computer screen to Max. “How long will you have that, uh… what’s it called?”

“Cold. I have a cold.” Max blinked irritably. Everyone he’d seen in the past three days had asked about it, so he volunteered, “You know how the med staff circulates genetically defused viruses to keep our immune systems healthy? Well, I just happened to get the one that mutated back to its original form.”

“Will I get it?”

“No. As soon as I got sick, they fed a vaccine to everyone else.” Max blew into a tissue, hard. “You’ll be fine.”

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