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lead the way," said Fitch, fear and wonder in his voice.

       "I've never doubted you before, Mister Fitch," said Hartwell, "but it is as black as Hades out here."

       "I know, Captain, but I can see everything around us. It's all tinted red, but I can see."

       "Infrared night vision," said Mechatronic, an explanation which meant nothing at all to the crew.

       "All right, lead us to the harbour, Mister Fitch," said Hartwell. "Everyone hold onto the person in front and don't let go."

       It took Fitch about ten minutes to guide them through the labyrinth of alleys, his footing always certain, the way always clear. Soon, they were back next to the unnamed galleon and had met up with Tench, O'Rourke, Nani and the rest of the crew. A babble of excited voices broke out as explanations and incredulous questions arose from the night's events.

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    " hat demon has infected us?" demanded Nani, once the situation had been explained.
       "No, and I am not a demon," replied Mechatronic. "The molecular technology spread out in the ocean where I crash landed. Those who swam through that part of the ocean absorbed the technology, which is simply obeying its core directive to regenerate and upgrade its host. The technology cannot distinguish between one person and another—it will upgrade any who come into direct contact with it."

       "I don't believe your lies!" spat Nani.

       "Enough," said Hartwell. "I do not understand either, but it has happened—we are changed and we must adapt to it. Remember, we are still the same people, we still have the same character and the same sense of morality."

       "So you say," replied Nani, "but we don't know that for sure."

       "Then you have my permission to slaughter us should we one day turn into raging monsters," said Hartwell, staring Nani down. "Now, why exactly did you lead us to this God-forsaken spot, Madrigal? And this time, I want the truth."

       Madrigal fidgeted under Hartwell's glare, saw the same expression on most of the crew and decided to tell the truth. "I needed to rescue my brother," he said, nodding toward Anatole.

       "And for that you risked us all?" demanded Hartwell.

       Madrigal nodded, looking defiant but also ashamed.

       "Do not be too hard on him," said Anatole, stepping forward. "He is my elder brother and he has always looked after me, saving me from the slavers, finding me work as a chef. I'm just not very good on my own, you see. I need someone to look after me." His speech was short and delivered in his ridiculous high-pitched voice but had a simple dignity to it.

       "The next time anyone needs to commit to a personal crusade, let me know first," said Hartwell with a sigh. He couldn't bring himself to chastise Madrigal. He would have done the same thing, and more, for his sister. "What's happening behind us, Mister Fitch?" he asked.

       "Damnation!" exclaimed Fitch as he looked up at the fetid town above them. "There's a mob up there grabbing swords and rifles and I don't know what else."

       "I can see them, too!" exclaimed Tench in astonishment as his vision adjusted with a precision unknown to organic eyes. "Most are pointing our way. They're lighting torches and lamps now." As he spoke, tiny orange dots illuminated the blackness.

       "Then we don't have time to search for and to seize the Plymouth," said Hartwell, feeling a strange sense of relief in having an excuse to stay on the old galleon. "We must hope this ship is good for the time being. All on board and make ready to leave."

       "You are seriously going to try and sail this hulk with a crew of the cursed and crippled?" spat Nani.

       "I may be cursed, I may not be," replied Tench, still gazing about him in wonder as his new, improved vision enabled him to see into the darkest shadows, "but I am still loyal to my crew and captain."

       "Well said, Mister Tench," replied Hartwell. "You will all do