“Fishnet knows its business,” Mal said. “Okay, Dr. Rat, go get Doc Khan ASAP. We’ll wait here with your folks and hope nobody starts a war.” She was clearly frustrated that she couldn’t go herself and sort it out with her two hominid hands. However, this was one enemy base they weren’t going to be able to sneak through by dressing up as guards.

“Admirable correctness in all particulars,” the translator confirmed.

Dr. Rat made a piping speech to the huddle of other rat-creatures, all of whom had been eyeing Mal and Lee with no small concern. Hopefully, they were being reassured that these ogreish outlanders had no taste for rodent flesh.

III

Waiting for Dr. Rat’s reappearance was one of the hardest things Kay had ever done. She had no doubt that Rove would be a vindictive fucker if she was caught trying to get out from under his prim thumb. She had already backed up her work as discreetly as possible. Dr. Rat had given her portable storage in the form of a thumbnail-sized wedge of plastic, and it all fitted onto there somehow. She’d have liked to take the whole lab’s results, but her human-enabled system had only limited permissions within the rats’ wider network.

Dr. Rat and his cyborg shadow returned at last, and she knew them well enough to see that the creatures were frantic with worry. We’re committed, then. No turning back. “The rescue team—they’re here?”

“Indubitably present, indeed.” The doctor was skittering about the laboratory, connecting his monocle to one terminal after another, making adjustments. “Measures are in place for great mendacity insofar as laboratory surveillance is concerned,” the translator explained. “However, beyond these environs sufficient control of systems is not possible. Hence you will require carriage.”

“You what, now?” Kay asked, imagining a straining sedan chair with a score of rodents labouring to cart her about.

Dr. Rat dashed across the lab, practically on all fours, which she knew was a sign of extreme nervous agitation. He slid open a screen to reveal a plastic crate, its sides marked with a succession of symbols in dull reddish colours. She knew these would be vibrant to the rodents’ eyes, and probably backed with various warning scents and textures too. Hazardous contents.

He hauled it out, and it glided frictionlessly over the metal floor. The plan unfolded away from her in directions she didn’t much like.

“I won’t fit in there,” she said.

“It is imperative you do,” was all Dr. Rat had to say about that.

“Look, Doctor, if this goes wrong I’m going to be a fucking fish in a barrel.” Not a helpful metaphor. “I’ll be stuck in there for Rove or one of your guys to shoot me.”