Plague--the nebulous "worst" the Traders had to face.
Dane screwed his eyes shut, tried to concentrate upon the droning voice
in his ears, but he could not control his thoughts nor--his fears.
At a touch on his arm he started so wildly that he jerked the cord loose
from the reader and sat up, somewhat shamefaced, to greet Tau. At the
Medic's orders he stripped for one of the most complete examinations he
had ever undergone outside a quarantine port. It included an almost
microscopic inspection of the skin on his neck and shoulders, but when
Tau had done he gave a sigh of relief.
"Well, you haven't got it--at least you don't show any signs yet," he
amended his first statement almost before the words were out of his
mouth.
"What were you looking for?"
Tau took time out to explain. "Here," his fingers touched the small
hollow at the base of Dane's throat and then swung him around and
indicated two places on the back of his neck and under his shoulder
blades. "Kosti and Mura both have red eruptions here. It's as if they
have been given an injection of some narcotic." Tau sat down on the jump
seat while Dane dressed.
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