He pulled the top up over my shoulders. “You don't have to take anything off; just lie down here.” The act of lying down made me cough sharply, but I caught it in my palm.He took a tissue and gently wiped my hand, and looked at the blood. “Damn,” he said quietly. “You aren't a smoker. I mean on Earth.""Just twice. Once tobacco and once pot. Just one time each."He nodded. “Now take a really deep breath and try to hold it.” He took the MRI wand and passed it back and forth over my upper body. “Okay. You can breathe now."New picture,” he said to the window. Then he was quiet for too long."Oh my. What ... what could that be?"I looked, and there were black shapes in both of my lungs, about the size of golf balls. “What is ... what are they?"He shook his head. “Not cancer, not an infection, this fast. Bronchitis wouldn't show up black, anyhow. Better call Earth.” He looked at me with concern and something else, maybe puzzlement. “Let's get you into bed in the next room, and I'll give you a sedative.
