Dusk deepened and the largest of three moons rose in the east, about two thirds the size of Luna and almost as bright. Its phase was almost full.

In order to reach the elegant towers where Earl lived, we first had to cross a sprawling zone of dark roofs and small, overgrown lots, laid along an endless series of curvy lanes and cul-de-sacs.

“Urbs,” Earl Dragonlord commented with apparent distaste.

“Hold on a minute,” offered Guts, rummaging through his medical bag. “I think I’ve got some bicarbonate for that.”

“No, no.” The native grimaced. “Urbs. These are the surface dwellings where Lik’ems make their homes for the greater part of each month, feigning to live as Standards used to, long ago, before the Great Change, in tacky private dwelling places, depressingly alike. All blissfully equipped with linoleum floors and formica counter tops, with doilies on the armrests and bowling trophies on the mantelpiece. And never forget a lawn mower in the garage, along with the hedge trimmer, weed-eater, automatic mulcher, leaf blower, snow blower, and razor edged pole-pruner…”

Of course these terms were produced in demmish by the translator in his throat. They might only approximate the actual meanings in Earl’s mind.

“Sounds awful,” Guts commiserated, patting the arm not held in a hammerlock by Nuts.

“Yes. But that is just the beginning. For under the floor of each innocent-looking house, there lurks—”

He paused as the demmies all leaned toward him, wide-eyed.

“Yes? Yes? What lurks!”

Earl’s voice hushed.

“There lurks a trap door…”

“A secret entrance?” Captain Ohm asked in a whisper.

Our guide nodded.

“…leading downward to catacombs below the urb. In other words, to the sub-urbs, where…”

I cut in, coughing behind my hand. I did not want my crewmates slipping into a storytelling trance right then.

“Hadn’t we better move on then, while there’s still light?”

Earl cast me a sour glance. “Right. Follow me this way.”

Soon we passed down an avenue lined by bedraggled trees. No light shone from any of the rusty lampposts onto narrow ribbons of buckled sidewalk bordering small fenced lots. Most of the houses were dark and weedy, with broken tile roofs and missing windows, but one in four seemed well-tended, with flower beds and neatly edged lawns. Dim illumination passed through drawn curtains. Once or twice, I glimpsed dark silhouettes moving within.

The demmies, their eager imaginations stirred by Earl’s testimony, kept swiveling nervously, peering into the darkness, shying away from the gaping storm drains. Our greenies, especially, looked close to panic. They kept dropping back from their scout positions, trying to get as close to the captain as possible, much to his annoyance. At one point, Ohm dialed his blaster and shot Corporal Jums with a dose of itch-nanos. The poor fellow yelped and immediately ran back to position, scratching himself furiously, effectively distracted from worrying about spooks for a while.