The Vermiform parted from us in one great curtain. Its exhausted worms crawled around with Sauria sand and Infusoria gel trickling from between them. I stamped my feet, feeling water squeeze out of my boot lacings.

‘We must have thrown it by now,’ the worms moaned. ‘We must have…We think…’

Cyan and I looked up and down the corridor. It was unpainted metal and very dull. ‘That’s more steel than a whole fyrd of lancers.’

The Vermiform started sending thin runners around the curve of the corridor. ‘We’re above Plennish,’ it said.

‘Wow,’ said Cyan. ‘What an imagination I have.’

I found a tiny, steel-framed window. I stood on tiptoe and tried to peer through the thick glass. ‘It must be night time. Look at all the stars.’ There certainly were an awful lot of stars out there, filling the whole sky and-the ground! ‘Cyan, look at this-there’s no ground! There’s nothing under us but stars!’ I looked up. ‘Oh…wow…’

‘Let me see,’ she said.

I refused to let her take my place at the little window. I pressed my face to the glass, gazing intently. ‘The grey moon fills the whole sky!’

‘It isn’t a moon,’ said the Vermiform. ‘It’s Plennish. It’s grey because it’s completely covered in Insect paper.’

‘Ah…shit…All that is Paperlands?’

‘Yes.’ It sighed. ‘The Freezers once tried to bomb it. Now radioactive Insects come from there to infest many other worlds.’

‘I’d like to fly around outside. There’s so much space.’ I looked down again-or up-to the stars. A little one was racing along in relation to the rest, travelling smoothly towards us. It was so faint it was difficult to see. I said, ‘A star is moving. It’s coming closer fast. Shift us out of here.’

A shiver of apprehension flowed over the Vermiform. ‘We can’t keep going. We’re exhausted.’

‘You have to!’

‘We can’t…We can’t! Anyway, this is a refuelling dock. If any ship tries to land without the protocol the Triskele Corporation will blow it to cinders.’

I glanced out the window, and saw them from above. Horse skulls like beaks, pinched withers falling to bone. Their long backs carried no corpses now. Sparks crawled around them, flicked up to the window glass; they ploughed straight into and through the metal wall.

‘It’s the Gabbleratchet!’

Human screams broke out directly underneath us. The Vermiform threw a net of worms around Cyan and myself. Sparks crackled out of the floor beside us. The muzzle of a hound appeared-

Rushing air. I was falling. I turned over, once, and the black bulk of the ground swung up into the sky. The air was very thin, hard to breathe. I fell faster, faster every second.

I forced open my wings, brought them up and buffered as hard as possible against the rushing air. I slowed down instantly, swung out in a curve and suddenly I was flying forwards. I rocketed over the dark landscape. Where was I? And why the fuck had the Vermiform dropped me in the air?

And where was Cyan? Had it separated us? I looked down and searched for her-saw a tiny speck plummeting far below me, shrinking with distance. I folded my wings back, beat hard and dived. She was falling as fast as I could fly. She was spinning head over arse, so all I could see was a tangle of arms and legs, with a flash of white panties every two seconds and nowhere to grab hold of her.

‘Stretch out!’ I yelled. ‘Stretch your arms out!’

No answer-she was semi-conscious. She wouldn’t be able to breathe at this altitude. I reached out and grabbed her arm. The speed she was falling dragged it away from me.

She rotated again and I seized a handful of her jumper. I started flapping twice the speed, panting and cursing, the strain in my back and my wings too much. Too much! We were still falling, but slower. My wings shuddered with every great desperate sweep down-and when I raised them for the next beat, we started falling at full speed again.

‘Can’t you lift her?’ said a surprised voice, faint in the slipstream. A wide scarf wafted in front of my face, its ends streaming up above me. It was the Vermiform: it had knitted some worms around my neck!

‘Of course I can’t!’ I yelled. ‘I can barely hold my own weight!’

‘Oh.’

The scarf began spinning around us, binding us together. More worms appeared and its bulk thickened, sheltering Cyan but her head bobbled against my chest.

We fell for so long we reached a steady speed. I half-closed my eyes, trying to see what sort of land was below us. I could barely distinguish between the ground and the scarcely fainter sky. There were miniscule stars and, low against the far horizon, two sallow moons glossed the tilting flat mountaintops of a mesa landscape with a pallid light.

The ends of the scarf swept in front of my face as they searched the ground. ‘I’ll lower you.’

It shot out a thick tentacle towards the table-topped mountain. The tentacle dived faster than we were falling, worms unspooling from us and adding to it. It reached the crunchy rubble and anchored there. We slowed; the wind ceased. It began lowering us smoothly, millions of individual worms drawing over each other and taking the strain. They coiled in a pile on the ground. We came down gently on top of them and toppled over in a heap.

The Vermiform uncoiled and stood us on the very edge of an escarpment that fell away sheer to a level lake. Other plateaux cut the clear night sky. In places, their edges had eroded and slipped down into stepped, crumbling cliffs. Deep gorges carved dry and lifeless valleys between them. They gave onto a vast plain cracked across with sheer-sided canyons. The bottom of each, if they had floors at all, were as far below the surface as we were above it.

A series of lakes were so still, without any ripples, they looked heavy and ominous, somehow fake. It was difficult to believe they were water at all, but the stars reflected in their murky depths. The landscape looked as if it was nothing but a thin black sheet punched out with hollow-sided mountains, with great rents torn in it, through which I was looking to starry space beneath. There were no plants, no buildings; the grit lay evenly untouched by any wind.

The Vermiform threw out expansive tendrils. ‘How do you like our own world?’

‘Is this the Somatopolis?’ I said. ‘It’s empty.’

‘It is long dead. We were the Somatopolis, when we lived here. Once our flesh city was the whole world. We covered it up to twice the height of these mountains. We filled those chasms. Now it’s bare. We are all that is left of the Somatopolis.’

The pinkish-white moonlight shone on the desolate escarpments. I imagined the whole landscape covered in nothing but worms, kilometres deep. Their surface constantly writhed, filled and reformed. I imagined them sending up meshed towers topped with high parapets loosely tangled together. Their bulk would pull out from continents into isthmuses, into islands; then contract back together, throwing up entire annelid mountain ranges. Caverns would yawn deep in the mass as worms separated, dripping worm stalactites, then would close up again with the horribly meaty pressure of their weight.

‘Let’s go,’ I said. ‘The Gabbleratchet will appear any second.’

‘Wait until it does,’ said the Vermiform. ‘We are bringing it here deliberately. We have an idea.’

‘The air’s so stale,’ said Cyan.

‘It is used up. The Insects took our world.’

I said, ‘Look, Cyan; this is what happens to a world that loses against the Insects.’

The Vermiform raised a tentacle that transformed into a hand, pointing to a plain of familiar grey roofs-the beginning of the Insects’ Paperlands. Their raised front arced towards us like a stationary tidal wave and their full extent was lost to view over the unnervingly distant horizon. The cells were cracked and weathered-they were extremely old. They were darker in colour than the Paperlands in our world, but patched with pale regions where Insects had reworked them hundreds of times.