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talked to the sniffer, he pulled off his boot. The sock came next. Sure enough, a blister as big as his thumb—puffy and white with red all around it. It was shaped like a lima bean, Jeff’s least favorite food after liverwurst.
    Nanny reported, “There is a pattern to the trails. The sniffers need more time.”
    â€œCan we rest then? I’m starving!” Jeff took off his pack.
    â€œNanny needs no food. Nanny needs no rest. Nanny does not get blisters.”
    â€œSo what? You still can’t find it, can you? Even with all those sniffers! Maybe I’d have better luck without you!”
    â€œLet’s find out,” Nanny said, and zipped up the corridor.
    â€œHey! Stop! Come back!”
    Nanny did not take orders from Jeff. It raced beyond the point where the floor and ceiling appeared to pinch together.
    Jeff rolled to his feet, or meant to. But he pushed too hard and lifted into the air. He corkscrewed twice before he caught the floor with the toe of his booted foot. Connected at last, he ran— scritch-rip-thump, scritch-rip-thump. Running with one bare foot in this weak gravity tested all his skill. Every pump of his leg tried to carry him into the ceiling. He struggled and wobbled and began to feel sick to his stomach. He stopped, hands on knees, puffing. Many passages led in and out here. Nanny could have taken any one. He held his breath, listened. No motor noise. He would never find Nanny.
    Who cares? He didn’t want Nanny, anyway. He wanted the rat!
    Scritch-rip-thump, scritch-rip-thump. Slowly Jeff walked back to where he’d left all his things. Food first, then a bandage for the blister, then …
    Jeff tried to think what to do next. But he had no idea how to hunt for a rat. His only chance was to be with Nanny and shoot first.
    Without him Nanny moved faster, Nanny moved quieter. Nanny would get the rat. He had ruined his one chance.

C HAPTER N INE
    B AD N EWS
    Rat made a nest in the boy’s laundry drawer. She shaped a red T-shirt into a bowl just right for her to curl up in. The boy smelled nice. That surprised Rat. Scientists stank of sharp chemicals, horrible choking perfumes, and rubber gloves. Rat pushed her nose deep into the fabric. The surprise nice smell comforted her. Rat might need the boy’s help if they were hunting her. She was glad he didn’t stink.
    Rat worried when she first dropped into the boy’s room. There were not many places to hide on a space station. It was so shipshape, with cubbyholes, cabinets, and closets. A place for everything, and everything in its place—even in the boy’s room, though he was messy. Usually a drawer would not be a good place to hide. But the laundry drawer under the bed had a vent in back that drew away the smell of old clothes. Rat used the computer maps to find out how the vent above the bed connected to the one in the laundry drawer. She got in through the vent, and could escape that way if she needed to. The drawer had a screen on front. Rat could see out while safely hidden in the shadows.
    Safe at last. The fire foam had protected her, though its scent was going away now. Rat just smelled like herself. She liked that. Life was too strange lately, with too many strange new things.
    She curled into a ball and pulled her tail around under her nose. That hurt. Rat studied the ugly red blister covered with messy butter. At least it was healing.
    What a mistake she had made. But so what? She was new at this—new at being free.
    Rat took a deep breath. She was a rat who lived by her wits. She had gotten the boy to study the food machines. She would get him to help her now. All the muscles under her lavender-colored coat relaxed. Her body was falling asleep, but her mind was not ready. In this safe place her mind wanted to take time to understand.
    If it weren’t for her wits, Rat might still be at the lab. Comfortable. Or maybe dead. In the lab there was always food and water. The