The scrambler! All right, Rat! Jeff swallowed a shout of triumph.
The solid surface cracked apart. Rat shot through a gap. She tumbled a moment, head darting in quick motions, searching, Jeff knew, for the blue panel and escape. She reached for the jetpak control.
Dr. Vivexian spoke one word: “Pavlov.”
The effect on Rat was instant. All animation left her body, as if a puppet master suddenly dropped the strings. Momentum carried her to the far side of the room. She bumped against a panel and bounced back toward the door, lifeless as a rubber ball.
Jeff unsprung, but he never made it beyond the threshold. Pistoned fingers hissed, seizing his upper arm in a grip as strong as Nanny’s. That grab should’ve dragged them both into the room, but Dr. Vivexian was well-anchored. He knew how to handle himself in zero-g.
“Oh, no, you don’t.” He twisted Jeff around, bringing them face to face. “You have interfered enough.”
“Ow! You’re hurting—”
“I’d like to break your neck.” The fingers squeezed Jeff’s arm even harder in demonstration, then eased off to a gentler, but solid, grip. Dr. Vivexian smiled. “But that would be ungrateful, hmm? You have saved my rat’s life twice. My masterpiece, nearly lost! Can you imagine what I have suffered since she escaped?”
Dr. Vivexian’s mouth pinched, and he looked away, into the room, at Rat. Jeff looked, too. She was halfway to them, drifting as slowly as a lavender soap bubble. Something was tied to her tail. A ribbon? On Rat? Then he saw the red stain spreading in the cloth. “She’s hurt!”
“I noticed,” Dr. Vivexian said. His gaze flicked toward C-10. It was coming apart at the seams. “I suspect she is lucky to be alive.”
C-10 babbled, “Error … error … emergency shutdown.”
The scrambler couldn’t be causing that. C-10 and Rat were too far apart. Clearly, C-10 had not escaped the clench unscathed. But who cared about C-10?
Jeff squirmed, hoping to catch Dr. Vivexian off guard, but the glove held fast. Rat was so close now, Jeff could see into her eyes. He was startled to find something in them—recognition? hope?—whatever, Rat was there! Her body might be hijacked, but she wasn’t a mindless zombie. If only he could think of a way to reach through Dr. Vivexian’s brainwashing …
Time was running out. In another minute or two, Rat would be close enough for Dr. Vivexian to simply pluck her out of the air. He’d stick her in a cage. She’d never see the sun again.
Sun! Of course!
Jeff shouted, “Sunshine! Rat, remember the sunshine!”
CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN
NOT TOO TIDY
Sunshine!
The boy’s voice.
Together, word and voice burned through Rat’s mind like an exploding star.
With a fierce squeeze of her forepaw, she reclaimed her freedom. She paused behind the blue panel to check on the boy.
“How dare you!” Dr. Vivexian shook him. The hydraulic fingers hissed with strain. “How dare you know my rat that well!”
Down the corridor, an elevator door whisked open. A voice bellowed, “Vivexian!” Dr. Vivexian looked over his shoulder. The captain soared around the bend, in his element, moving along the pipes like a great ape swinging through the jungle.
Dr. Vivexian glared at the boy then at the blue triangle.
“This is not ended,” he called. “Do your hear me? You are mine. I will get you back again, one way or another.” He tossed the boy aside. Rat saw the boy tumbling. He would be okay. Rescue was on the way.
Rat darted into the air shaft. Discovered right away that the forepaw was hurt more badly than it had felt in the heat of the battle: dislocated, maybe even broken.
A broken paw. A chopped tail. Pretty lucky rat.
She limped along using the three-legged gait. More luck. She expected to have to fight her way to the boy’s room. But the air shafts were clogged with dead sniffers. They weren’t blasted, and it wasn’t the effect of her scrambler. Something had happened to C-10, some delayed damage from the battle. It had spread to every one of its sniffers. Once again the secret places of the space station belonged to Rat alone.
It was the last worry. Nanny gone; C-10 gone; and the power of the voice broken by the boy. Wonderful boy!
She came to the grate above his bed. At first glance, Rat thought she must’ve taken a wrong turn. Everything was so tidy! But no, her nose insisted, this is the boy’s room.
Rat pressed against the grate for a better look. The three sunspot posters proved her nose right. The only hint of a mess was a jump suit draped over a chair and the laundry drawer left open. She pushed at the plastic clips holding the grate closed. Nosing it open, she slid onto the shelf beneath it. She held the heavy mesh with a back foot until her poor hurt tail slipped clear, then guided the grate silently closed.
Look, smell, listen, feel. Just in case.
Nothing.
ITCH!
Rat dove onto the bed. Her paw raked the Velcro seam to peel open the spyvest. She wiggled out of it. Rolled over and over in the bedclothes, kicking, scratching, and nipping until every itch was dead. But now her forepaw ached and her tail throbbed. When the boy came, he could doctor her. He would like that. But no cast this time. Rat knew better now. Her broken leg had probably healed many days before she chewed off the cast.
Rat looked around the tidy room. Boring without the mess. Without the boy. When would he come back?
The loudspeaker crackled. The captain announced, “Attention, all personnel. Station lockdown is now over. Situation … ah … normal. And people, eat a piece of cheese to honor that rat!”
Cheese would be nice. Had the boy left any in their secret stash? Rat checked the drawer in the desk. There was one cookie: peanut butter, jumbo size. Dragging it onto the desk, she munched greedily, eager to find a peanut chunk. Crumbs dropped onto the perfectly clean carpet. Rat stared at them. Inspiration struck. She jumped on the cookie.
Jump, jump, jump.
Crumbs scattered everywhere. Onto the keyboard. The chair. The perfectly clean carpet. Picking a peanut bit from between the keys, Rat shaved it into thin explosions of deliciousness.
She ran up the cubbies, kicking books and toys out. A jump onto the chessboard sent pieces flying. The hurt paw collapsed, tossing Rat into the laundry drawer. She shook her head in disbelief—piles and piles of neatly folded clothes! Wrestling a T-shirt into a ball, she rolled onto her back and launched it into the room with a kick from both hind feet.
Tap-tap-tap,
tap-a-tap-a-tap-tap.
The boy!
He came in and froze. “What the heck is going on?”
Rat hurled herself onto his shoulder. Pushing through the pain, she ran down his front, across his back, around and around, her sharp toenails making snick-snick sounds as they clung to his jumpsuit.
The boy collapsed onto his knees, pleading, “Oh, Rat! Stop—tickles—oh—oh, please!”
Rat stopped.
Recovering his breath, the boy said, “Let me see that tail.”
Rat let him inspect it, but she signed, “Will grow back.”
“I suppose it might.” The boy brought out the first-aid kit and, with a gentle touch, cleaned up the wound. He was quiet and thoughtful as he worked.
When he finished putting on a tidier bandage, he said, “Dr. Vivexian broke the truce. So you don’t have to keep it either. That’s fair. I’m really mad at Dad for coming up with the idea. I think he planned to turn you over to that league thing even before Dr. Vivexian got here.”
“Scientists,” Rat signed. “But do not worry. Rat has a plan.”
“Really? What?”
Rat hesitated. Was this the right time to share her last secret with the boy?
“Peek-a-boo, I see you two!” The machine’s voice burst from the intercom with singsong exuberance. “Sunshine, sunshine, sunshine. LB guessed your word. Do you want to know how? LB will tell you. LB found all the eight-letter words beginning with s-u. There are lot
s! LB needed another hint, but you were very busy in the battle. LB heard Jeff save you with that word. That was the clue LB needed. It was a scary battle, Cousin. You are lucky Jeff knew your word. He is a hero.”
Rat and the boy exchanged a look. He said, “Oh, LB, you’re the real hero, and you don’t even remember!”
LB made a click of disapproval. “Cousin Rat, come back to live inside LB. This boy is too strange.”
“Sorry,” Rat signed. “Boy is first friend. But Rat will visit you. Promise.”
“Visit soon. LB wants to know why sunshine was so important.”
“Hey, how do you know Rat’s signing? Are you watching us?”
“LB is connected. LB is everywhere.”
The boy stared at Rat. “You taught LB to hack?”
Rat nodded, then signed, “No more spying today. Naptime.”
“Cousin Rat likes to nap. Bett likes to nap. LB used to be bored during naps. But not anymore! Sleep tight.”
“You know, Rat,” the boy said as he stripped off his jump suit, “you might be sorry about that.”
Rat shrugged. “Necessary. Will help bring old friend back.”
“You think we can bring him back?”
“Yes. Explain later. Tired. Sore. Naptime.”
The boy held out his hand. Rat came to him. He lay on his back in the bed, holding Rat on his warm belly. The slow rise and fall from his breathing combined with his warm and familiar scent reminded Rat of cuddling with her nestmates. Not the mother. Never the mother. An illusion. But the boy was real.
Rat snuggled deeper into the crook of his arm.
Rat’s cool nose pressed hard against Jeff’s biceps, burrowing. She had never wanted to be cuddled. But she seemed to be snuggling in now. It felt … nice.
A toenail scratched lightly along his arm, an unwelcome reminder of sharp toes, sharp teeth! Jeff fought the urge to slide his arm away.
“Rat, you haven’t ever killed anyone, have you?”
Rat freed a paw from his encircling arm. With shielded toenails, she gently tapped out the Morse code for NO.
Jeff sighed a long sigh. “I’m glad, Rat.”
And strangely enough, so was Rat.
Acknowledgments
The author wishes to thank all the members of the Monday night writers’ group for their invaluable critique and support, especially Andra Horton and Erin Heidorn for their insight into what makes a sequel work, along with Jay Callahan and Joyce McNeill for suggesting the perfect word to close the trap! Also thanks to my new editor, Julie Amper, who really knows how to trim a story; my agent, Nancy Gallt; and a farewell to Regina Griffin, without whom Rat would never have found her way into the hearts of readers.
About the Author
Michael J. Daley’s career as an author has been inspired by a lifelong love of science, spaceships, and science fiction. He writes his stories on a solar-powered laptop in a five-foot-square tower room. This keeps him well acquainted with the cramped conditions in spaceships! When not traveling among the stars, Daley lives in Westminster, Vermont, with his wife, children’s author Jessie Haas.
All rights reserved, including without limitation the right to reproduce this ebook or any portion thereof in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereinafter invented, without the express written permission of the publisher.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, events, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, businesses, companies, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.
Copyright © 2008 by Michael J. Daley
Cover design by Jesse Hayes
ISBN: 978-1-4976-3728-3
This edition published in 2014 by Open Road Integrated Media, Inc.
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Rat Trap Page 12
