Except the orifice they had been scooped into had been somewhere mid-rear, which could mean something even worse. Lee had closed her eyes when the creature clutched them to itself. Now she found herself in darkness on a hard floor, other bodies jabbing into her with elbows and knees, scratching her with claws. Rat hair was bristling in her face. She shuddered and sat up, experiencing a wave of dizziness.

“Mal?”

“Here,” came her friend’s hoarse voice. “Ow. I’m bleeding.”

“What?” Lee fumbled over to her, stepping on at least one tail. All around her, other voices were expressing their discontent with the situation. She heard Sabreur, then Khan’s eloquent expletives, and over it all the shrill bickering of the rats they’d brought with them.

“I think it stabbed me with its spikes, when it was grabbing us. Nothing serious, but…ow.” Mal found her arm, squeezed it, then hugged Lee close. “I’m going to say, for the record, I was not expecting that.”

“What, a giant centipede thing dropping in over London? Everyday occurrence, surely.” Lee heard her own voice shake, but she was being brave for Mal and that helped her keep it together.

“What…” Mal’s own tones quavered and she had to start again, casting out into the dark, “Does anyone know what just happened?”

“You mean you don’t?” Sabreur demanded. Then a woman’s voice, probably his colleague’s, added, “I think I…Hold on…”

“We are to travel.” It was a new voice, deep, the words slightly unclear. “There will be light. Probably.”

Not the most inspiring way to start a new religion, Lee thought, feeling giddy.

“Stig?” Mal asked in a small voice. “Is that you there, you thickset bastard?”

“No more than me,” Stig agreed. His voice seemed closer now, as a dim greenish radiance began to spread across the walls of their…what? Compartment, prison, stomach? The space was rounded, lozenge-shaped, lined with something hard, plasticky and slightly irregular, as though it had been poured out and set almost instantly, whorls and ripple marks baked into the surface.

Mal threw her arms around Stig and gave him a compulsive hug. He returned it gravely.

“Your friend,” Lee said. “She got shot by rat-soldiers. I’m sorry.”

Stig sighed massively, unsurprised but miserable anyway. “Who are all these?” he asked dourly, as though the presence of so many guests was just more work he could have done without.

“The family of Dr. Rat, the scientist you were working with,” Mal explained. “He got shot too. And some government people, who you should probably drop off somewhere.”

Stig glanced at Sabreur and friend. “Those we know. Julian Sabreur, Alison Matchell. You weren’t supposed to be here.”