“Yes… Squid.” Earl said with sublime dignity, as the translator took its cue from Nuts, automatically replacing one word with another. Earl seemed blithely unaware that two entirely different sounds had emerged from his voicebox.

“Squid it is,” Ohm nodded, regarding the skyscrapers. And that was that. From now on, any demmie, and any speech-converted local, would use that word to signify this town.

I sighed. After all, it was only a city. But you students should take note that several civilizations have made the mistake of declaring war on demmies, over the insult of changing their planet’s name without asking. Not that it ever did any good.

“Squid” was impressive for a pre-starflight city. At one time, it must have been even more grand. The metropolis clearly used to surround the park on all sides, though now many quarters seemed empty, devoid of life. Once-proud spires were abandoned to the ravages of time, with blank windows like blind eyes staring into space. But straight ahead, the burg still thrived – a noisy, vibrant forest of tall buildings draped in countless sheets of colored glass, resembling 20th century New York, dressed-up with ostentatious, spiral minarets.

Skeins of filmy material, like mosquito netting, spanned the spaces between most buildings. Many windows and balconies were also covered with a gauzy, sparkling sheen – screen coverings that I later learned held bits of sharp metal or broken glass. As the sun sank, Squid resembled a maze of glittering spiderwebs, festooned with drops of dew.

Broad roadways were congested with cyclopean motor cars and lorries, all jostling for space and revving their engines before racing at top speed for an open parking space. I saw that every fourth avenue was a canal carrying boats of all description. My sinuses stung at the smell of ozone and unburnt hydrocarbons.

“Well, will you looka that!”

Our doctor pointed beyond the downtown area, to where jagged terrain rose steeply toward a rocky hill, its summit topped by striking silhouettes, totally unlike the metropolitan center. Scores of midget castles stood on those heights, with dark battlements and towers jutting from every slope. Earl Dragonlord sighed with gladness to see them, and motioned for us to follow.

“Come along, cousins. Sunshine is bad enough, but we definitely should not be out by moonlight! At home I’ll fit you with more appropriate clothes. Then we can go to the Crown.”

“Uh, is that where we’ll speak to your government leaders?” Captain Ohm asked. “We do have work to do, y’know.”

The last part was directed at Nuts. Her resumed grip on our guide’s elbow might force a lesser fellow to cry uncle. Earl was clearly a man of stamina and patience, all the more alluring to a demmie female.