Despite wearing native clothing – a long, magisterial gown, complete with glittering spikes on a high collar – she was instantly recognizable. Those pointy little demmie teeth weren’t vampirized, the way Lieutenant Morell’s had been. Still, they glittered, as the Clever Gamble’s Chief Engineer grinned at me, without any trace of friendliness.

“That’s Commander-Artificer Nomlin to you, Advisor Montessori. I have always found my peoples’ penchant for nicknames so immature, don’t you agree? And with the Captain not around—”

“Where is he?” I demanded, taking several steps toward her, my hands suddenly clenched, ignoring the two men, who jabbed me with their weapons. “Where is Ohm! And Guts and the others? Do you know what happened to the ship?”

Her smirk faded into a look of passing concern. “The Gamble? I haven’t a clue. In fact, I’ve heard nothing since that night in the sub-urb, when we were attacked and I got separated from the others. I remember getting knocked under some bushes, then wandering around in a daze, till morning, when I finally stumbled into town and asked a friendly policeman for help.” She nodded to Coalshack. “I can only assume that the Gamble had to leave suddenly. Or she was destroyed.”

“Your uniform, does it still transmit and receive?” Mine had been shredded, after violent attacks by everything from werewolves to zombies. I had hoped that explained the silence.

“Beats me.” Nuts shrugged. “I traded my tunic for these clothes. They’re pretty, don’t you think? I mean, for prison duds.”

“Prison. But…” I stammered. “You mean you’re—”

“Also under arrest? Of course! I’m an alien invader too, just like you. Only they’ve promised to be lenient. Haven’t you, boys?” She smiled as Katske and Coalshack nodded. “If I help them solve a little problem.”

“What problem?”

“The problem, you dense Earthling. The crazy condition of this poor planet! The sickness that brought their civilization to the brink of collapse and filled their world with monsters.”

I turned back to the old man. “It’s a sickness?”

Dr. Katske nodded.

“The affliction is called Leininger’s Disease, after its discoverer, who diagnosed the first wave of walking dead. Amid the ensuing panic, and because it bore many hallmarks of a weapon, the nations of that time accused each other of biological warfare. They even hurled a few bombs back and forth, destroying several cities, and weakening society further, before everyone realized – that this tragedy transcended all borders, even death.”

“But—” I couldn’t help arguing. “Didn’t people adapt? At least for a while? Those exhibits in the hallway—”

“—don’t tell the whole story.” Katske shook his head. “Yes, for a little while, people seemed willing to adjust to new conditions. Even to redefine ‘life’ in a more inclusive way. Some momentum built, toward a general mood of tolerance.”

“I saw relics of that era. But the time of acceptance collapsed, didn’t it?”