“Except in rare, isolated cases,” agreed the pedant, Katske. “There always used to be a few of our race who made some kind of undead transition. Maybe one in a hundred thousand. I take it this never happens on your own worlds?”

“We humans had rumors and legends,” Frieder replied. “But we now know they were nothing more than wish and terror fantasies.”

“The same with us demmies,” Talon avowed, though with clear reluctance. It had taken many generations for his folk to let go of their fondest nightmares.

“Though now this Leininger toxin seems to affect demmies!” Guts declared. And it was hard to tell whether his tone seemed more excited or angry at the prospect. Possibly a combination of both. I thought of the lovely demmie vampiress, Lieutenant Gala Morell, and wanted desperately to learn more about her fate from Ohm and Guts. But first things first.

“Is that what you want, you Standards?” I asked Coalshack and Fu Tichi. “For no one ever again—”

“—almost no one—” Katske corrected and I nodded.

“—for almost no one to get an afterlife anymore, on this world? Just corpses, fit for burial or burning?”

Fu Tichi frowned.

“Well, when you put it that way…”

But the policeman-revolutionary wasn’t having any of it. Coalshack cut in with a low growl.

“If that’s our only choice? If it’s the sole alternative to our present reign of terror? Our cities drenched in fear and paranoia, being preyed upon by our own dead parents? Yes! Destroy the machine and let us all find peace! Both in life and in the grave.”

His passion and eloquence had the demmie translation nanos stymied. They could manage nothing resembling a pun, and conveyed only Coalshack’s grim, righteous determination. We all gave it a moment of respectful silence.

“Hm.” Commander Talon finally said, rubbing his scar thoughtfully. “But is that the only choice, between two extremes? Someone once taught me that there are always… possibilities.” He glanced at Captain Ohm. Then Talon turned to Katske and Ping. “Did you not speak of a golden period of tolerance and compromise?”

Ping nodded.

“Not golden, perhaps. But hopeful, negotiated with hard effort, logic and goodwill. There were laws and codes of behavior. Duty to family and city and nation took priority over lustful appetites. But the fragile arrangement broke down. And we now know that a surge in release rate of the Leininger factor was responsible.”

He glanced sharply at Earl Dragonlord, who shrugged, as if to say: who are you looking at? Me? At this moment I’m just a local vampire. His full-immersion in a role would have made any demmie proud. So Ping shifted his withering glare to the other Spertin.

“All right then,” Ohm said. “Let’s assume for now that we can find a way to fine-tune the level of transforming gas release—” he ignored the sphinx-ter’s uncooperative snort “—then what other obstacles would block a solution.”