Space Station Rat (11 page)

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 … three …

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.

C
HAPTER
T
WENTY
-O
NE

A N
EW
N
EST

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

C
HAPTER
O
NE

A G
OOD
R
OUTINE

“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.

Rat liked it that way.

“That gripper arm wasn't on yesterday,” the boy said, yawning.

Rat's nose twitched as his morning breath washed over her. It carried a whiff of fear. Nanny's gripper arms had hurt the boy, but not as badly as the sniffer's vicious bear-trap jaws had hurt Rat's leg.

Rat typed and her words wrote over the image:
THE EYE IS STILL DARK. THAT IS ALL THAT MATTERS
.

The boy reached for the joystick. He zoomed in on the head. “You're right, Rat.”

Satisfied, the boy went to the bathroom. Rat used the toilet now, too. It was necessary. The space station's waste reclaimers counted poop. Every bit of food Rat ate had to be accounted for.

Water gushed, splattering with a harsh sound against the shower stall. Strange way to bathe, getting wet all over. But Rat guessed humans had to. The boy couldn't even scratch the back of his head with his own foot! He'd never be able to wash between his toes.