The boy flinched. “There’s air.”
“And when we find that gun, we’ll find Nanny, right?”
The boy nodded.
“Jeff?” the mother said. “You lied to us?”
“I didn’t mean to. I had to save the rat.”
“Save—the—rat?”
“I was going to kill it, to protect the project, to help. Then Nanny wouldn’t even let me hunt. I followed anyway. When I got there, a sniffer had it and there was all this blood … and this sound … I had to save it. But Nanny wouldn’t stop. I only meant to blind Nanny. Something happened … and now everything’s ruined. I’m sorry.”
His body trembled. He was upset, but not blubbering. The muscles across his stomach were tight and hard like steel. Confessing, yes, but with control, saying nothing about Rat. What a good boy!
“What—what happened to Nanny?” the captain asked. “Spit it out!”
Somehow Rat must save him from that brutal man.
“I destroyed it!”
“More lies!” the captain scoffed. “Nanny can fight soldiers! You couldn’t even scratch it!”
“I’m not lying! Nanny’s dead!”
“Jeff, are you sure?” asked the father.
“There was this big crack, big ball of electricity. Nanny stopped and stayed stopped. I guess that’s all I really know.”
“This is incredible—” the mother said. “A … rodent? Nanny … dead? I want to wake up now.”
Rat began to understand. This was only a little bit about Nanny. Mostly it was about the project. Vaguely Rat recalled the talk before all this excitement about the gun. They needed Nanny to fix something. What? Rat had stopped paying attention.
“You were fighting with Nanny?” the father asked.
“I told Nanny to stop. I told it Control was calling. It wouldn’t obey. It attacked me!”
“This is very serious … if true,” the captain said. “Control! Send the chief engineer and a repair crew to the workshop immediately!”
Beep. “Yes, sir.”
“Move out, all of you!” the captain ordered. “To the workshop. We’ll get to the bottom of this right now.”
The boy went stiff. Rat startled.
If he stood up, Rat might be discovered!
How could Rat save herself? She couldn’t even run!
She could bite.
She could slash.
Rat flexed her toes. Slowly, quietly she rubbed her teeth together to make the edges sharp.
They would be sorry if they found Rat!
“He can’t,” the father said. “His foot is hurt.”
“Hurt?” the mother said. “There’s blood!”
The boy shifted. Cloth crinkled. The mother must be looking at the foot. That close! Rat tried to fit even flatter to the boy’s body. Maybe he liked that, because the clenched muscles loosened some.
“Look at this! Look! You told us he’d be safe with Nanny!”
“I don’t understand,” the captain said.
“Oh, Nanny didn’t—” the father began to explain.
Beep. “Captain, we’re in the workshop.”
The boy’s breath caught. The adults’, too. Rat could not hear anyone breathing.
Beep. “We’ve found the gun. Looks like the kid’s been hitting rocks with it. What’s that? Okay, Tom sees Nanny. Hold on.”
Beep. “It’s … yuck … smeared with … liverwurst … and quite dead. A massive power surge by the looks.”
“Liverwurst!”
Rat licked her lips. She would like some liverwurst.
Beep. “All over the place.… It’s impossible, but wait a minute—I’m taking the head off. Blast it! The stuff squished through and shorted the power-phase integrator. We must’ve nicked the O-ring seal putting Nanny back together.”
They hadn’t done it, the captain had. Jeff remembered how he had been hurrying and dropped Nanny’s head. It clattered in the opening, then the captain smacked it down tight with his big fist. And after all those times yelling at Jeff for running, too.
“This is unbelievable!” the mother said. “The world is going to freeze because of … of liverwurst?”
“Can you fix it?” the captain asked.
Beep. “Don’t know, sir. Even if Nanny’s brain survived, the body’s wrecked. Days, weeks maybe—”
“Give me that radio!” the mother yelled. “We don’t have days! Please … we need that stabilizer fixed now!”
Rat knew that word. The label she had read so painstakingly in the dim light popped back into her head: STABILIZER ROCKET #724 CONTROL BOX.
The mysterious noise! From behind the big metal box with the little blue light. The one the meteor smashed. Rocket exhaust!
Rat could save the project.
Help scientists?
“Janice … shhhh … here, give that radio back to the captain.”
“Oh, Greg … we’ll be too late!”
“Do your best, chief,” the captain said.
Beep. “Aye, sir.”
The voices were all far away. They were not paying attention to the boy. Rat must act now. She had no idea if they would ever leave him alone in time. But how to tell him?
Did he know Morse code?
She could not waste the time finding out.
She shimmied up his T-shirt. The boy leaned forward, maybe thinking she needed more room. His skin felt hot and soft against her toes. Sensitive. Good.
Slowly she drew “724” across his stomach.
He started to squirm, then went very still.
She drew “724” again.
“T two four?” the boy whispered into his collar. His hot breath washed over Rat.
She nipped him. Pay attention!
“Ow!”
Noisy boy! A rat would never yelp at such a little nip.
“Jeff, what’s the matter?”
“Ah, um, my blister … it smarted suddenly.”
Rat scratched the “7” again, not gently.
“Owww … ohhhhh! Seven two four.”
He spoke out loud.
Hasty boy! He did not wait for the other clue.
CHAPTER TWENTY
SOME ADVICE
The captain snapped, “What’s that supposed to mean?”
“I … I don’t know.”
They stared at him.
“Then what did you say it for?”
Come on, rat! Help!
“Did you remember something?” Mom asked. “Is that something Nanny told you?”
Great cover, if he ever figured out what it meant.
“Uh … um …” He tapped his forehead, pretending to think, buying time. The toe-nails touched his skin again, but moved more gently.
RS724.
Jeff didn’t know what that meant. How could he let the rat know he needed more information? A stomach only worked one way!
TELL.
Jeff felt the command firmly etched just above his belly button. He obeyed, even though it made no sense to him.
“Um … R-S-seven-two-four?”
“That’s a stabilizer designation!” The captain turned to Jeff’s computer. Keys clicked under his pounding fingers.
Mom asked, “When did Nanny say that?”
“Err … I’m not sure—”
“Garbage!” the captain said, scowling at the map on the screen. “That stabilizer’s been deactivated for decades.”
Dad said, “And there was no air in the Mid-Ring workshop, remember?”
The captain straightened at the computer. He smacked the CLEAR button, venting, “Useless!” as he grabbed for his radio. “Control! Get me a real-time status on RS724. Now!”
“I can’t stand this!” Mom clenched her hands together and pressed them hard against her lips.
They all stared at the radio, shaking in the captain’s grasp.
Beep. “Operational, sir! Random power spikes. It’s firing!”
“Kill it!”
Jeff chewed his lip … one … two … th
ree …
Beep. “Done. We’re showing station stability!”
“Make sure it stays that way!”
Beep. “Yes, sir!”
“Jeff!” Mom practically squealed. She hugged him. Jeff braced, expecting to feel rat scratches in protest. Then over his shoulder, Mom saw her watch.
“Oh no, we’re not ready!” Mom started to pull away, half turning toward the door, then stopped herself. She held Jeff at arm’s length. For a moment the glittering hardness of anticipation left her eyes. Jeff felt hugged in every cell of his body. “You’re wonderful. Gotta run.”
“Run?!” Jeff said. “You don’t know how.”
Mom laughed, a real belly burst. “Teach me when this is all over, okay?”
Jeff nodded. “Good luck, Mom.”
“Captain, I need your full cooperation immediately! Greg!” She hurried out the door waddling as fast as she dared.
The captain hesitated. His expression showed he didn’t think Jeff was so wonderful. “You’re confined to quarters until I figure all this out. Understood?”
“Yes, sir.”
“That’s harsh,” Dad said when the captain left. “You going to be okay on your own?”
“Have been so far.”
“Ouch.” Dad winced. “Okay, that’s fair. But you understand, things can’t change for a while?”
Jeff nodded. He didn’t want any more attention right now.
“Good. I’d better run—I mean, waddle. When things calm down, I’ll make it up to you. We’ll spacewalk to the moon or something.”
Jeff smiled. “Thanks, Dad.”
“Take a nap. You look beat. I’ll check in on you before we hit solar max.” Dad paused at the door. “Um, what happened to the rat?”
Jeff was ready for that question. Even while confessing about destroying Nanny, a part of him remained untouched by the stress; cold, clear, certain he would never, never tell them the full story.
“It got away.”
Dad’s right eyebrow arched, the way it did when they played chess and Jeff made an unexpected move.
“Ah. Well then, best keep this out of sight.” Dad tossed the tube telescope to Jeff.
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
A NEW NEST
Gzzzzriiiiiiip—down came the zipper. The jumpsuit went slack. Rat rolled onto her back in the cozy pouch that formed in his lap. The boy stared down at her. His eyes glittered, glassy and unseeing. The dark shadows of fatigue rimmed them. His mouth moved a few times before he actually spoke.
“Talk about the Inquisition! I never lied so much in my whole life!”
So what? We escaped, thought Rat. Be calm. Be happy.
Rat squirmed. She found a curious little dimple in the boy’s belly—just the right size for poking a nose into!
“Hey!” The boy jerked, laughed.
Rat did it again.
“Stop!” He flopped onto his back, giggling. Tricky for Rat, not to fall off as he tried to wiggle the little dimple away from her persistent nose.
“Enough! Oh, please, stop! Ouch—”
Rat had trampled on his scratches. She slid off onto the blanket.
The boy caught his breath, then sat up. He pulled up his T-shirt. “Look at me!”
A long, ugly bruise left by Nanny’s gripper. Pink scratches. Three claw punctures. And a nip. Tiny beads of blood here and there.
“Sorry,” signed Rat.
“What?”
Bother! She must teach him sign language right away. She did not want to leave the comfortable bed for the cold, hard keyboard.
She didn’t have to worry. The boy limped over to the cubbies. Returning, he placed the first-aid kit, a couple packets of super-concentrated rations, and his pocket computer next to Rat.
Clever boy!
“I’m starving! You, too?”
Rat nodded. Food would be nice!
He broke off an inch of the leathery ration stick for Rat and stuffed the rest into his mouth. Rat nibbled. Much tastier than the long-lost food pellets, but still not as good as liverwurst.
“I wonder if confined to quarters means I can’t go to the cafeteria?”
Rat certainly hoped not!
“I’d almost be happy to see Nanny show up with some milk and cookies.”
Rat agreed.
The boy took off his jumpsuit and T-shirt. He knelt by the bed and opened the first-aid kit. He dabbed disinfectant over the scrapes and punctures … wincing and drawing sharp breaths as he did so.
Rat turned on the pocket computer. She typed, SORRY ABOUT THE HURTS.
Rat liked the little keys so close together.
“I wouldn’t mind if you had chewed those numbers into my skin! How did you know, though?”
CONTROL BOX NEAR NEST. METEOR SMASHED IT.
“A meteor hit your nest? That must’ve been scary!”
Rat just nodded. She did not have the energy to tell him how the decompression nearly killed her, how she escaped only to be caught by the sniffer. Horrible! If the boy hadn’t come …
The boy looked at Rat with sympathetic eyes.
“We’ve had some close calls. And the captain’s still mad. It doesn’t matter. I have to live with Mom, not him!”
He tended the last of the scratches. Sweat pearled along the line of his upper lip as he worked. Rat sniffed, scenting the saltiness.
“Have I got bad breath or something? Oh, I know! You’re learning things, aren’t you?” He poked his nose close to Rat’s nose. He sniffed.
SILLY BOY!
He smiled and stroked her nose. Rat nudged the finger behind her ear. He scratched. She hunched her shoulder so that the itchy scarred spot fell under his finger. Her lip curled, and her right eye went squinty.
Oooooooo! She wanted him to rub her all over. She wanted to curl up in his healing warmth and sleep.
“Hey, what’s your name? You never said.”
I AM RAT.
“Rat? Huh. Okay, Rat, how about a nap?”
Rat nodded, then held up her paw. He had forgotten something.
FATHER RETURNING.
“Oh, right. I think Dad’s on our side. I think he guessed. He saw the tube with your teeth marks. It might be okay if he saw you.”
NO NO NO. Rat hit the keys hard, making the small computer bounce on the bed. She was not ready to trust the father. Yes, he behaved oddly … noticing and not saying. But what did he really think? Rat did not know. The boy did not know. The boy was hasty, not careful like Rat. She must teach him, or the way ahead might not be all liverwurst and soft T-shirts.
SAFEST SECRET.
The boy nodded. “I’ll lock the door.”
OPEN LAUNDRY DRAWER.
“Huh? Oh! So you can roll into it and hide. Good thinking. Wouldn’t want to do the jumpsuit again.”
The boy pulled the drawer open about a foot. He moved Rat to the pillow. While the boy cleared the box and other things off the bed, Rat trampled a welcoming hollow. He locked the door, grabbed another pillow, then slipped under the covers.
Quiet and dim. Rat liked that. But sleep did not come easily. She could feel the heat of the boy. Smell the stale fear lingering on his skin. Hear his breath. So loud! Though growing shallower, quieter. She had yearned to share her nest again, but with a human boy?
The boy drew a deep breath and spoke. “You know, Rat, it’ll take Mom and Dad about two weeks to collect the data they need. There’ll be time to do all those things we talked about in our e-mail—like play chess. And if the captain ever lets me out, I can take you to the zero-g room. I bet that’ll feel good on your leg. Then when it’s time for us to leave, I’ll smuggle you home with me. Won’t that be super?!”
Go back to Earth? That had seemed impossible before. But with the boy, maybe she could. Would she make the trip in his jumpsuit?
Yes, Rat thought, that would be the way. Snuggle me—smuggle me. Take me to grass. And dirt. What a marvelous boy!
Rat stretched and wiggled until her nose reached across to his pillow.
She nibbled his earlobe.
“I guess that means you like the idea.”
Yes. Yes. Rat nodded. She would go back to Earth with this boy who smelled nice and had saved her life.
She curled her sharp nails against the soft, pink pads of her forepaw. With her knuckles, she lightly traced “GN” on his cheek.
“What? GN? Oh, good night, right? Good night, Rat.”
Turn the page to read an excerpt from the sequel to Space Station Rat
CHAPTER ONE
A GOOD ROUTINE
“Still dead?”
Rat turned from the computer screen just as the boy sat up in bed. His eyes were half closed with sleep. His hair spiked in all directions.
“Checking,” Rat signed. The boy would not go for food if he did not know. Rat did not blame him. She was afraid of Nanny, too.
Thump, thump went two bare feet. The boy crossed the room to stand beside her. His bare arm brushed against her. She sidled a step away from that touch. Even though the boy’s touch was different from the scientists’—nicer—she was still not used to it. Rat was used to living alone, not in a room on a space station with a human boy!
Rat pressed RUN, and the spy program started up, tapping into the security camera in the workshop. The screen showed a low, wide workbench covered with bits of Nanny, some of them still crusted with dried liverwurst. To the right of the pile of parts, the shiny black body of the robot stood on tiny wheels. The body was about the size of an industrial vacuum cleaner, but sleek, like a jet-scooter helmet. From a socket in the side, a thin, steely arm stuck out, knobby at the joints and ending in a pincer-like gripper. At the far left of the bench rested Nanny’s frisbee-shaped head with its one round eye. Once that eye had glowed green with Nanny’s electronic intelligence. Not anymore.
Cables of twisted wire snaked from the head to a row of computers on the wall, all working to try to bring Nanny back. Rat and the boy did not want them to succeed. Sometimes Rat wished she could sneak into the workshop and bite through those cables to make sure Nanny never came back.
But chewing wires had started all the trouble before and doing it again would let them know Rat was still alive. She was supposed to be dead. Killed by Nanny. That’s what the boy had told them.
But Nanny was the dead one.
Space Station Rat Page 8
