“My honoured colleague, if matters fail to transpire as we wish, then we are both entirely fucked,” the translator said crisply. Kay did a double take, wondering where that vernacular had come from and whether some of this over-elaborate language wasn’t an artefact of translation at all but a very clever rodent having fun.

“Sod it,” she said, and got into the crate, folding herself up knees to chin, already feeling her muscles trembling. “Be quick.”

“With all appropriate celerity,” Dr. Rat agreed, and then he and his assistant had closed the lid, leaving her in utter darkness.

The container started to move after that, periods of weird gliding contrasting with sudden stops and changes of direction. Kay’s right foot was cramping, but when she tried to twist it she jogged the lid, leading to a sudden stillness outside before their progress resumed. She gritted her teeth and pressed her nails into her calves to try and distract herself. Her neck and shoulders were starting to twinge.

Then they stopped, and she realized there was some full-blown debate or argument going on, with more than two rodent voices. She imagined a patrol of rat troopers halting Dr. Rat and demanding to know what was in the box.

Utterly helpless, all she could do was wait. Even when she heard their sharp-nailed hands at the latch, she kept the screaming inside.

There was a renewed shrilling, probably Dr. Rat again. She wondered if he was pointing at the danger markings, telling them they’d be fatally irradiated the moment they opened up. Holding her breath, Kay waited. Every muscle in her body seemed to be spasming, adrenaline building up in her tissues with no possible outlet. Oh fuck oh fuck oh fuck.

And then, without warning, they were off again. For a long while she wasn’t even sure who still had her—maybe the rat troopers had confiscated the crate for disposal or examination—but at last they stopped again and the lid was levered off, revealing the only two rodent faces she wanted to see.

“It is not suitable for disembarkation,” the translator cautioned her. “However rejoice, for delivery is nigh.”

“I am bloody glad to hear it,” Kay hissed back.

“Your patience is appreciated,” she was told, which was so much like being put on hold by customer services that she mustered a chuckle. Then the lid was back on and they were under way once more. There was more smooth gliding, and then what her stomach suggested was probably a lift going down. She had no idea how big the airship was, but it patently dwarfed anything human engineering had put in the air, a flying behemoth sufficient to make Jules Verne weep.

Now the movements were more hurried, so the container scraped walls and jolted over uneven plates in the floor. She imagined the lower levels of the ship, the less salubrious maintenance ways.