Touchdown, Touchdown, Rah, Rah, Rah!

They were pressing their way through the crowd when Ghorf came up to them. “Rabinet!” he called, and gave a friendly bow that was marred by some jostling. “Coming to see the game, I thought I should drop by for a few words.”

“I’m glad you did,” Ray said. He felt oddly apprehensive when he recalled how the executive had been avoiding him—and there was something unsettling about the way his muzzle twitched, as though he was reluctant to deliver bad news.

Ghorf’s words belied that impression, however. “I wanted to talk about the Moskva contract,” he said. “Consulting with Zhlah, she thinks that—that—ah—ah—”

Ghorf struggled to stifle a sneeze, lost the fight, and doubled over as he let loose an explosive string of sneezes. He gronked out a noise that might have been “Excuse me” as he staggered away, still sneezing.

“I’ll telephone you later,” Ray called after him, as he vanished into the crowd.

Elizabeth shook her head in sympathy. “Poor fellow... but now we know why he’s been avoiding you.”

Ray nodded. “At least I can still deal with his secretary face-to-face.” That would be out of the question for Ghorf, who, Ray now saw, was allergic to humans.

Illustrated by Kelly Freas