Read Online Space Station Rat by Michael J. Daley - Free Book Online
Authors: Michael J. Daley
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was too small for humans, too small even for Nanny.
But not for sniffers or gobblers or fix-its, Rat reminded herself. Rat paused to listen, to sniff, to stretch her whiskers into the dimness. Rat had chosen well. Not even those little robots had found this place.
The tunnel was inside the walls of a forgotten part of the space station. Rat never went into that huge room, not once she found the tunnel. It was too open, with too few places to hide. The giant gray machines frightened Rat, though they were covered in thick dust. What were they for? Could they suddenly start up? Better to stay away from them.
There was thick dust in the tunnel, too. Nice dust. It sifted between Ratâs toes as she crept closer and closer to her nest. She savored the feel of it so soft under her toes. They hurt from all the running on hard metal. She never found dust anywhere else in the space station. It made her feel the tunnel was another worldâa world safe for a rat.
The air took on a spicy tang. A few more steps and Ratâs whiskers touched the curlicue edges of torn plastic. She licked the liverwurst. Mmmmâstill good! But Rat could not eat any, not yet. Her stomach felt like a hard marble, with no space inside. She moved around, touching everything. Her supplies were exactly where she had left them. She sniffed her nest. Rat, the smells told her. Only Rat.
She hugged the warm pipe. The heat seeped into her tired, hurting body.
Pffss-sit!
Rat flinched, and all the achy places started hurting again.
Stupid noise!
These sudden, mysterious sounds used to be a game, but now she did not need a game. She needed silence. Something might come sneaking during the noise. How could she get rid of it?
The noise came from behind a big metal box on the wall opposite her nest. Rat investigated it. Under a tiny blue light, there was a switch turned to ON . There was an OFF , too. So maybe she could get rid of it. But what would that do? Would something bad happen? Would a fix-it come?
There was a label. In the dim light, Rat had to press her nose against the box to read the lettersâone by one. Then she put them together in her head: STABILIZER ROCKET #724 CONTROL BOX .
What did that mean? Rat sat back. She scratched, though she did not have an itch. Something new. Even now, with her life in danger, Rat did not know enough about the space station. It was too easy to make a mistake.
She hated the space station.
Pffss-sit!
That noise again! Rat reached for a wire, teeth bared and ready to rip into the black coatingâ
Bang!
The cover exploded off the box. Luckily Rat had dipped her head, reaching for the wire, or the cover would have hit her. Spinning, clattering, it tore into her supplies, scattered her nest. Inside the box air hissed out of a hole the diameter of a toilet-paper tube. Dust went up, thick and choking. It gathered into a whirlwind that streamed into the box and swirled out into space like water going down a drain.
The hole wanted Rat, too. Her body lurched toward it. She scrambled to get to the warm pipe. The air was full of dust, cookie crumbs, and shreds of paper from her nest. They battered Rat and tugged her fur every which way. She clung to the pipe, struggling for breath. It was like trying to breathe with your nose pinched tight. Only a little air etched a path into her lungs. The greedy hole wanted it all.
Faintly Rat heard the sound of sirens and words. They echoed through the vents, soft and muffled.
âEmergency! Emergency! Meteor impacts! Decompression! Emergency!â
Click-click-click.
Rat barely heard those clicks, faint as the tap-tap-tap of the scientistsâ shoes in the hallway outside the lab. The sucking sound quieted. The dust settled.
Was it over?
Shapes blacker than the dimness began sliding across the tunnel to either side of Rat. The space station was protecting itself by sealing off the tunnel around the leak. The clicks had been the sound of all the shafts nearby
But not for sniffers or gobblers or fix-its, Rat reminded herself. Rat paused to listen, to sniff, to stretch her whiskers into the dimness. Rat had chosen well. Not even those little robots had found this place.
The tunnel was inside the walls of a forgotten part of the space station. Rat never went into that huge room, not once she found the tunnel. It was too open, with too few places to hide. The giant gray machines frightened Rat, though they were covered in thick dust. What were they for? Could they suddenly start up? Better to stay away from them.
There was thick dust in the tunnel, too. Nice dust. It sifted between Ratâs toes as she crept closer and closer to her nest. She savored the feel of it so soft under her toes. They hurt from all the running on hard metal. She never found dust anywhere else in the space station. It made her feel the tunnel was another worldâa world safe for a rat.
The air took on a spicy tang. A few more steps and Ratâs whiskers touched the curlicue edges of torn plastic. She licked the liverwurst. Mmmmâstill good! But Rat could not eat any, not yet. Her stomach felt like a hard marble, with no space inside. She moved around, touching everything. Her supplies were exactly where she had left them. She sniffed her nest. Rat, the smells told her. Only Rat.
She hugged the warm pipe. The heat seeped into her tired, hurting body.
Pffss-sit!
Rat flinched, and all the achy places started hurting again.
Stupid noise!
These sudden, mysterious sounds used to be a game, but now she did not need a game. She needed silence. Something might come sneaking during the noise. How could she get rid of it?
The noise came from behind a big metal box on the wall opposite her nest. Rat investigated it. Under a tiny blue light, there was a switch turned to ON . There was an OFF , too. So maybe she could get rid of it. But what would that do? Would something bad happen? Would a fix-it come?
There was a label. In the dim light, Rat had to press her nose against the box to read the lettersâone by one. Then she put them together in her head: STABILIZER ROCKET #724 CONTROL BOX .
What did that mean? Rat sat back. She scratched, though she did not have an itch. Something new. Even now, with her life in danger, Rat did not know enough about the space station. It was too easy to make a mistake.
She hated the space station.
Pffss-sit!
That noise again! Rat reached for a wire, teeth bared and ready to rip into the black coatingâ
Bang!
The cover exploded off the box. Luckily Rat had dipped her head, reaching for the wire, or the cover would have hit her. Spinning, clattering, it tore into her supplies, scattered her nest. Inside the box air hissed out of a hole the diameter of a toilet-paper tube. Dust went up, thick and choking. It gathered into a whirlwind that streamed into the box and swirled out into space like water going down a drain.
The hole wanted Rat, too. Her body lurched toward it. She scrambled to get to the warm pipe. The air was full of dust, cookie crumbs, and shreds of paper from her nest. They battered Rat and tugged her fur every which way. She clung to the pipe, struggling for breath. It was like trying to breathe with your nose pinched tight. Only a little air etched a path into her lungs. The greedy hole wanted it all.
Faintly Rat heard the sound of sirens and words. They echoed through the vents, soft and muffled.
âEmergency! Emergency! Meteor impacts! Decompression! Emergency!â
Click-click-click.
Rat barely heard those clicks, faint as the tap-tap-tap of the scientistsâ shoes in the hallway outside the lab. The sucking sound quieted. The dust settled.
Was it over?
Shapes blacker than the dimness began sliding across the tunnel to either side of Rat. The space station was protecting itself by sealing off the tunnel around the leak. The clicks had been the sound of all the shafts nearby
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