Space Station Rat by Michael J. Daley

animals. But she saw on the news—every day—people killed their own kind, too, in many many ways.
    Rat signed, “Will they really punish you with death?”
    â€œIt’s neat you can do that, but I still don’t understand.”
    How annoying!
    Rat rolled and reached for the keys. The boy helped her into position. Even upset he was gentle. The scientists rarely handled Rat as nicely.
    LEARN SIGN LANGUAGE SOON. WOULD HE REALLY KILL YOU
    â€œNo, silly, but I can’t imagine what he will do!”
    Relieved, Rat sagged onto the keys. She was glad to know the captain would not hang a black tag on the boy’s cabin door.
    â€œPoor rat! You need rest, not problems.” His finger stroked Rat’s nose, but too quickly, too roughly for comfort. The boy was worried.
    Rap-rap-rap.
    â€œHello in there.”
    â€œThe captain!” the boy hissed.
    Run! Hide!
    But Rat could not run. She could not scurry into air vents. Her quick eye saw a shadowy place. Big enough! Most of Rat slipped inside the boy’s jumpsuit. The bandage snagged on the zipper.

C HAPTER S IXTEEN
    W HERE ’ S N ANNY ?
    The captain’s voice instantly reminded Jeff of the many urgent calls for Nanny while he cared for the rat. Nanny never answered, and now the captain had found out why.
    What would he do?
    A tickle along his belly made him look down. The rat struggled to get her broken leg into his jumpsuit. He was worrying about the wrong problem! Unsnagging the bandage, he scooped the rat in. She settled along the top of the waistband.
    â€œJeff?” Mom, too! He jerked the zipper up.
    â€œIs everything okay in there?” And Dad! Everything was not okay. The box sat in plain sight on the bed.
    â€œAh—wait—I’m not dressed,” Jeff called, then crossed the room in three quick strides, hunching over to keep the jumpsuit loose. He flicked the bed covers over the box and sat on the edge of the bed. He tried to sound groggy.
    â€œOkay. Come in.”
    The door slid open. Jeff stretched and yawned and groaned. He didn’t have to fake blinking. It seemed a three-headed monster crowded his doorway. The captain stood in front. Mom and Dad’s heads poked over his shoulders. It wasn’t an angry monster, and this surprised Jeff. Their expressions were eager, then quickly slumped with disappointment.
    â€œNot here, either,” the captain said.
    They don’t know!
    Mom said, “This is terrible! What are we going to do now?”
    What was terrible?
    The captain asked, “Why aren’t you hunting with Nanny?”
    â€œNanny wouldn’t let me.”
    â€œBut I ordered Nanny to take you along.”
    â€œNanny doesn’t obey orders,” Jeff said. “Nanny threatened me when I tried to follow it!”
    â€œPreposterous,” the captain said. “Nanny is programmed to protect you, to keep you out of trouble, that sort of thing. It couldn’t threaten you.”
    Mom said, “It was awfully aggressive about reports, and it did blast that discarded barrel section to pieces right there in the cafeteria. Maybe it’s gone vicious or something.”
    Nanny was vicious! Jeff’s ribs hurt if he breathed deep. He had bruises. What if he told them that? Would that make wrecking Nanny okay? He wished there had been more time to talk with the rat. The rat was clever. She was sneaky. Maybe they could have come up with a story, like criminals with an alibi. He felt her warm body across his belly, but there was no way to communicate now. He had to figure it out himself.
    The captain said to Mom, “Nanny was in hunt mode then—it just needed a target.”
    â€œNanny is in hunt mode now !” Mom said.
    â€œAh … right …” The captain agreed. Then, considering, he shook his head. “No. It’s impossible. There must be some other explanation.”
    â€œI don’t need explanations!” Mom said. Her voice