The Maze

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“Seven Tentacles With Spots! What a pleasure.”

Diplomat Max Douglas ran a trembling hand through his dark, curly hair. Then he smiled warmly at the Segoori on the holophone. While not pretty—the Segoori looked like unshelled snails with a touch of octopus—Seven Tentacles With Spots was something of a friend as well as a diplomatic connection. Although neither species seemed to know much about the other yet, fledgling relations between man and the technologically superior Segoori were good. Max was all too aware of the value of Seven Tentacles With Spots’s friendship.

“It is pleasant to speak with you, Max Douglas,” the Segoori replied, eyestalks bending in the Segoori equivalent of a smile. “I call to invite you to a…” The Segoori seemed to search for a word. “…Birthday party.”

Max’s brows knit, but he quickly unraveled them and forced another smile. Earlier dealings with Seven Tentacles With Spots had taught him that social interactions with the Segoori could be unpredictable, even hazardous. Still, Max realized, it was his job to handle these things.

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