Page 22 of Alien on the Moon

So, why was she shivering? And if she was so cold, why was her body warmer to the touch than usual?

“Elena?” he whispered, shaking her.

She groaned, rolling over and forcing her eyes open. They looked glazed with misery. Then they widened in panic. “Trash can,” she said. “Now.”

He grabbed the wastebasket and handed it to her, only for her to regurgitate the previous night’s meal. Panic rose in him. Humans weren’t supposed to just vomit. “What’s wrong?”

She spat out the rest of it and wiped her mouth. “Flu, I think.”

“What flew?” Was she delirious? “Nothing’s flying in here.”

She shook her head and then screwed up her face as though it caused her physical pain. “No, f-l-u, flu. It’s a human disease, generally not serious, but seriously gross.”

At this, Rylan relaxed. Thryal illnesses rarely manifested like this, but it was apparently common for humans. “What does it entail?”

“Headaches, nausea, vomiting, diarrhea, fever, chills, and a sore throat. Speaking of…” She staggered out of the bed with his trash can still in her hands and tottered to the bathroom.

“I’ll get the base’s doctor,” he said from the other side of the door. “We’ll find a cure for this flu.”

“There isn’t really much you can do,” she replied after the sounds of retching died down. “Mostly just drinking a lot of fluids and resting. Sometimes, people need to be rehydrated intravenously, but that’s about it.”

She let out a groan. “Shit, the new composition samples. I was going to test them today.”

“It can wait until you’ve recovered. How long does it usually last?”

“Few days. A week at most. The worst is usually done after the first twenty-four hours.” She let out another awful retch.

“Will you be okay if I go to get the doctor?”

“Should be.”

After some research into Earth’s illnesses, Dr. Trox was able to confirm what Elena first thought. It was just a common Earth flu—miserable, but easily survivable for a healthy adult human like Elena.

“You don’t have to stay here. We both have a lot to do, and we don’t need two people behind on their work,” she said once Rylan had gotten her bundled back into bed. “Trust me. The flu is not something you want to be around.”

Sitting up, she tried to swing her legs out of bed. “Actually, I should just head back to my room. I don’t want to make your room all gross.”

He gently but firmly pushed her to lie back down. “My work can wait just as much as yours can. Let me take care of you until you’re feeling better.”

“Okay,” she grumbled. “But don’t complain if I get you sick. I tried to warn you.” She handed him the key to her room. “Can you grab me a hair tie and my toothbrush? I’m pretty sure I also stocked up on ginger ale from Earth, so a couple of cans of that would be nice, too. It’s in my homesick snack stash.”

He saluted. “Be right back.”

Finding the hair tie and the toothbrush didn’t pose any issues, but the cans of what she called ginger ale proved to be more of a challenge. A can, he knew, was made of metal, but there were several different cans with different labels and colors. And he had no idea how to read human writing.

Shit.

Just to be safe, he grabbed a can of each color, six in total. Then he carried them and the rest of the supplies she had asked for back to his room.

When he opened the door while laden with sick day supplies, she laughed at the number of cans in his arms. “I probably should have specified what ginger ale was, huh?”

“Yeah, that would have helped.” He set everything on his desk and handed her the hair tie. “Which one is it?”

“The dark green can,” she said, pointing to the one on the far end. “Thank you for looking after me.”

He handed her the drink. Pulling the tab open, she took a sip and set it on the bedside table. Then she took the hair tie and pulled her hair back.

“Let me,” he said, taking it. He ran his fingers through her soft, chestnut hair before braiding it and tying it off.

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