Space Station Rat (5 page)

“Report,” Nanny said. Jeff held his breath. “The sniffer cannot find the animal. There are many trails in many air shafts. Either one rat has been on station for a long time or there are many rats. I must go hunting.”

“Many rats! Many!” the captain snapped. “I won't have it! Get to work, top priority.”

“Captain, sir?” Jeff said.

“What?!” The captain glared at him.

Mom touched his shoulder, squeezed.

Jeff ignored Mom's warning. Jeff ignored the quick snap of Nanny's head in his direction. “Sir, remember … you promised … wouldn't this? I mean, I want to hunt—”

Nanny chirped, “I need no help.”

“Quiet, Nanny. I did promise, didn't I? And then I forgot, didn't I?” The captain rubbed his chin for a moment, his whiskers rasping in the quiet room. “Hmmm. Why not? Yes, yes you can.”

“Will it be dangerous?” Dad asked.

The captain smiled, and Jeff felt his own mouth trying to smile in the same sinister way.

“Only for the rat!”

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SCAPE

The horrible foam got into Rat's nose. It woke her up. Lucky for Rat. Even though it stuck to her whiskers and fur. Even though it stank of chemicals and made her tongue feel numb when she groomed it off. Without the foam in her nose, the fingers might have got her. Instead, when the fingers touched her, Rat was awake, and she ran.

Rat fled to her nest. Panic allowed no other choice. As soon as her paws touched the shredded-paper bedding, the panic disappeared from her legs like air out of a balloon. Rat collapsed on her bed, panting.

Dumb dumb dumb! If only she hadn't taken so much food at once. If only she hadn't bitten so deep. If only she'd studied more of the lesson. If only …

With each new thought Rat felt dumber and dumber until she felt completely stupid. Not only that—her tail hurt, and she smelled bad.

Do something!

She found a packet of butter.
Nip-nip-nip.
She sliced it open. It hurt to nibble! Her teeth felt loose in their sockets.

Rat scooped some butter onto her left paw. She twitched her tail around and caught it with her right paw. She looked at the puffy blister.

At least the spark didn't blind her.

Gently. Gently. Rat spread the soothing butter over the blister. She ground her teeth against the pain.

At least the electricity didn't kill her.

She was a lucky rat, even if she did make a mistake.

Pffssss-ssit!

Rat flashed into a shadowy hollow place, upsetting half her supplies with her powerful kick. It was only the mysterious noise, but Rat's nerves did not know that. Not until she sniffed. Not until she listened. Too much thinking, and the mind got in the way.

Rat took a deep breath. She groomed her whiskers slowly. She had made a game of the gentle noise surprising her. Not now. Now she did not want any surprises. The fingers had been a terrible surprise. Rat had never expected to feel human touch again. Then the fingers came, so strangely pink without the horrible-smelling gloves on them. Rat knew the feel of human skin from when her tail sometimes touched a scientist's arm. But bare fingers on her fur—never!

And never again! Rat rubbed fiercely at the spot beside her nose where the fingers had touched.

Rat paused. The fingers did not get her. Did they find the wire?

If they did, Rat might be only between dangers.

Think! If they found the wire, what would they do?

At the laboratory the scientists used terrible robots for catching animals that escaped. A place with gobblers and Nanny and so many other busy, scurrying robots would have sniffers. Rat could hide from people. They were big and clumsy. Their senses were dull. Sniffers were harder. They almost ruined her escape from the scientists. Small, fast, and vicious, sniffers tracked your smell. And oh how Rat stank! They would find her in a second!

Rat washed her coat. She washed with a fury. The chemical made her feel sick, but she must get clean or—Rat stopped in midlick. Her tongue poked between her teeth. She didn't smell like a rat, did she?

No more washing. She would stink instead. Sniffers did not hunt fire foam. Clever Rat!

Rat looked left. Rat looked right. She crept back to her nest. With quick sweeps of her paws, she pulled the scattered bedding into a comfortable pile. Rat listened once more, then curled up in a tight ball, careful not to lie on her tail. She would not be safe in her nest for long. Too many of her tracks led here. She must leave soon. She had been hungry and lonely before. Now she would be hungry and lonely and hunted. Though Rat did not shed tears, deep down in her heart, she cried.

Where could she go? Where would she be safe from robots? Where would she find food?

Rat looked at the food she had worked so hard for. It must be left behind. But there was one way to take some with her. Rat sliced through the plastic with her teeth. She pressed her nose into the squishy, meaty goodness. The soft food didn't bother her teeth, and it soothed her belly.

Good. Good.

Maybe she was wrong. Maybe they just sent a fix-it and never found the wire.

Rat shuddered. She could not forget the fingers.

How could she find out for sure?

The boy would know.

Yes, the boy. Rat remembered the tiny gobbler that never came after the cookie crumbs in the room. Nanny never entered the room. Only the messy boy. She could hide there. She would get food.

Rat listened at all the paths from her nest.

Nothing sneaking.

She set off.

C
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E
IGHT

H
UNTING

I will not complain, Jeff repeated to himself as he followed Nanny down the empty corridor. But the back of his right heel hurt where the gripper boot rubbed. He was hungry and tired. The strap of the gun dug into his shoulder. I must not complain.

Where were they? Jeff didn't know. Nanny did. Jeff dared not bother Nanny with a question like that. Maybe Ring 3—or was that the last one? Somewhere far
in
, anyway. The tight curve in the floor told Jeff that. Not very far ahead of them the floor seemed to curl up into the ceiling. At least the gravity was weaker this far
in
. The gun felt less heavy. But he still had to pull hard to make the boots let go of the sticky carpet strip. That made his heel smart.

Hours ago the captain had handed him the gun. The gun made his parents nervous. They almost wouldn't let him go. But the captain told them it was a SmartGun. He quickly punched several buttons on it before handing it to Jeff.

“There now, perfectly safe, even for a boy!” The captain laughed. “Can't have people blowing holes in the walls, you know!”

Mom said, “I guess it's okay.” And Dad nodded.

Then the captain sent Jeff on his way with this advice: “Stick with Nanny, boy, and everything will be fine.”

Jeff obeyed, creeping and sneaking behind Nanny through the stale-smelling and silent parts of the space station. When Nanny moved, Jeff moved. His boots made a soft
scritch-rip, scritch-rip
sound. Nanny's motor buzzed. When Nanny stopped, Jeff stopped. When Nanny looked around with the one green eye, Jeff held his breath. He strained his eyes and ears into the gloomy bigness, alert to any hint of a rat. It was fun at first. But they had been doing this since the meeting in the cafeteria. That had been just after lunch. Jeff was sure they had prowled right through supper time by now.
In
and
out
and around and around, and nothing happened.

Another jab of pain. He clenched his teeth. Once again he blamed Mom for forgetting, imagining the boots side by side in the front hall, in plain sight. Good for nothing on Earth.

He bet the blister was huge, the kind that pops and bleeds and gets infected. They would have to cut his foot off. It happened to prisoners on long marches, Jeff knew. And this was a long march! Jeff had never walked so much in his whole life—not even at camp. Maybe they would notice when he lost a foot trying to save the project from some dumb—

“Ow!”

Jeff smacked his knee against Nanny's hard shell. He hadn't noticed that the robot had stopped. After making an angry, sizzly sound like a hive of disturbed bees, Nanny went quiet.

The silence made Jeff's ears throb. No machines hummed. No air fans whispered. The corridor was so dark the colors on the piping didn't show. Only one tiny bulb glowed yards away. It lit up a closed hatch with a sign saying
DANGER
—
OFF-LIMITS.
Another abandoned part of the space station. No reason to search there; even a rat needed air.

But Nanny did not turn back.

What was up?

Jeff forced his eyes open as wide as they could go. His finger curled over the cold, hard trigger. How dangerous the gun felt! The automatic targeting beam came on. It cast a dinner-plate-sized circle of light as bright as sunshine. Briefly the light blazed off Nanny's laser-proof armor, dazzling Jeff's dark-adjusted eyes. Then Jeff aimed into the shadowy places.

Come on, rat!

But he could barely see, so he hoped the rat would wait a minute before showing up. Nanny was not bothered by the sudden change from dark to light. Nanny had sensors for heat and motion. Jeff despaired, not for the first time since the hunt began: How would he ever get the rat first?

Something clattered as loud as spilled pennies just above his head. Eyes-handgun all jerked toward the sound. Jeff almost pulled the trigger, but it was just a sniffer in the air vent. Its jagged teeth glittered like a mouthful of braces in the targeting beam. The wormy eye tubes bobbed.

Jeff let out a whoosh of breath. He slumped against the wall, then slowly sank to the deck. While Nanny talked to the sniffer, he pulled off his boot. The sock came next. Sure enough, a blister as big as his thumb—puffy and white with red all around it. It was shaped like a lima bean, Jeff's least favorite food after liverwurst.

Nanny reported, “There is a pattern to the trails. The sniffers need more time.”

“Can we rest then? I'm starving!” Jeff took off his pack.

“Nanny needs no food. Nanny needs no rest. Nanny does not get blisters.”

“So what? You still can't find it, can you? Even with all those sniffers! Maybe I'd have better luck without you!”

“Let's find out,” Nanny said, and zipped up the corridor.

“Hey! Stop! Come back!”

Nanny did not take orders from Jeff. It raced beyond the point where the floor and ceiling appeared to pinch together.

Jeff rolled to his feet, or meant to. But he pushed too hard and lifted into the air. He corkscrewed twice before he caught the floor with the toe of his booted foot. Connected at last, he ran—
scritch-rip-thump, scritch-rip-thump.
Running with one bare foot in this weak gravity tested all his skill. Every pump of his leg tried to carry him into the ceiling. He struggled and wobbled and began to feel sick to his stomach. He stopped, hands on knees, puffing. Many passages led
in
and
out
here. Nanny could have taken any one. He held his breath, listened. No motor noise. He would never find Nanny.

Who cares? He didn't want Nanny, anyway. He wanted the rat!

Scritch-rip-thump, scritch-rip-thump.
Slowly Jeff walked back to where he'd left all his things. Food first, then a bandage for the blister, then …

Jeff tried to think what to do next. But he had no idea how to hunt for a rat. His only chance was to be with Nanny and shoot first.

Without him Nanny moved faster, Nanny moved quieter. Nanny would get the rat. He had ruined his one chance.

C
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Rat made a nest in the boy's laundry drawer. She shaped a red T-shirt into a bowl just right for her to curl up in. The boy smelled nice. That surprised Rat. Scientists stank of sharp chemicals, horrible choking perfumes, and rubber gloves. Rat pushed her nose deep into the fabric. The surprise nice smell comforted her. Rat might need the boy's help if they were hunting her. She was glad he didn't stink.

Rat worried when she first dropped into the boy's room. There were not many places to hide on a space station. It was so shipshape, with cubbyholes, cabinets, and closets. A place for everything, and everything in its place—even in the boy's room, though he was messy. Usually a drawer would not be a good place to hide. But the laundry drawer under the bed had a vent in back that drew away the smell of old clothes. Rat used the computer maps to find out how the vent above the bed connected to the one in the laundry drawer. She got in through the vent, and could escape that way if she needed to. The drawer had a screen on front. Rat could see out while safely hidden in the shadows.

Safe at last. The fire foam had protected her, though its scent was going away now. Rat just smelled like herself. She liked that. Life was too strange lately, with too many strange new things.

She curled into a ball and pulled her tail around under her nose. That hurt. Rat studied the ugly red blister covered with messy butter. At least it was healing.

What a mistake she had made. But so what? She was new at this—new at being free.

Rat took a deep breath. She was a rat who lived by her wits. She had gotten the boy to study the food machines. She would get him to help her now. All the muscles under her lavender-colored coat relaxed. Her body was falling asleep, but her mind was not ready. In this safe place her mind wanted to take time to understand.

If it weren't for her wits, Rat might still be at the lab. Comfortable. Or maybe dead. In the lab there was always food and water. The temperature was always the same. The scientists taught her sign language, computers, and many other things. But they never taught her about the world outside, or why she was different from the other rats, or who her mother had been.