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knock on the door, the investigator and his sniffers barging in. His knees went weak. Of course, in the low-g, it didn’t show. What if Dad had never found out?
    â€œWell, what’s done is done. From what I understand, if that rat really is alive, it’s probably been listening in on the chats.” The captain laughed, a sharp, brief bark of amusement at the scientists. “They tell me it’s lavender. Imagine that! But you knew that already, didn’t you?”
    The captain fixed his sharp, too-close-together eyes on Jeff. Was he trying to trap him? “I never got a good look. I thought it was gray …”
    â€œWhatever. The important thing is that you may have saved it. Even as badly hurt as you said it was, those scientists think their rat could survive. And they’re so grateful, they’re going to pay for the repairs to Nanny—or buy me a new prowler, if it comes to that.” The captain dropped a big, hot hand onto Jeff’s shoulder. “You’re a hero, boy! And you’re out of the doghouse with me.”
    The sharp thump of congratulations loosened a cascade of pronouns in Jeff’s head: they, those, their. All plurals! Of course! How stupid not to see it sooner! The investigator wasn’t a he , he was a them. Part of a team of scientists. Killing him wouldn’t solve Rat’s problem at all. It would just prove she was on the space station—who else would kill the investigator?—and then more scientists would come, probably to kill her this time.
    At last Jeff could tell Rat that there was something wrong with her plan besides the shooting, something so flawed that she would have to give up the idea entirely.
    Thank you, Captain!
    â€œLet’s go,” the captain said. “We don’t want to miss that test.”
    Jeff wanted to. He wanted to hurry back to the room and tell Rat what he had figured out. But the captain’s big hand on his back swept him along.
    The main part of the repair shop looked like a huge warehouse. This was where the crew worked on the heavy equipment. New frame sections for the space station arched overhead like honeycombed rainbows. The big machines and cranes and automated tools were silent. Nobody was at work.
    Around the outside of the main room were smaller repair cubbies. Nanny was in #3-A. The repair crew had crowded around the door to watch the test. At a sharp word from the captain, the dozen or so men and women parted to let them in.
    Nanny was on the floor. Jeff nearly walked into it. With a whine of motors, Nanny came to life.
    â€œHere is that naughty boy.” The gripper arms extended, pincers open. They waved up and down. “He must be punished for breaking Nanny.”
    It was his worst nightmare coming true: Nanny awake. Hating him. Looking for revenge!
    Jeff freaked. “No! Stay away! Leave me alone!”
    He stumbled backward, smack into the captain. The effect was like hitting a super-accelerator panel in the Zero-G room. Jeff bounced off and, half-floating, careened into the repair crew like a cue ball into a rack of pool balls. There was a great tear of Velcro. People wobbled and bumped. A few laughed, but most were too busy trying to get their Velcro boots back on the floor.
    â€œSomebody stop it!” Jeff fought off hands that reached for him. “Don’t let it get me.”
    â€œHey, knock it off, chief,” a woman said, stepping between Jeff and the robot. “The kid’s really scared.”
    â€œGive me that thing.” The captain took a small box from the chief’s hand. A remote control! The captain twisted the knob to OFF. The gripper arms sagged. The motors went silent.
    A hot rush of embarrassment replaced Jeff’s panic. The body was headless. He could see into the open hole at the top. The new O-ring glistened in the collar seal. Nanny’s head was still on the bench, nested in the wires, the eye still dark. The chief had played