Rat Trap by Michael J. Daley

Author:Michael J. Daley
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Open Road Integrated Media

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

LAST MINUTE

The shuttle would be docking in fifty-seven minutes. With pocket computer in hand, Jeff hurried to complete the list of last-minute items. Everything had taken longer to do than he’d thought it would. Everything had been harder than expected.

Item: Empty laundry drawer/leave open.

He scooped armfuls of clothes out and dumped them into the laundry chute.

Item: Dispose of boring wires.

He snatched the licorice-like pieces from beside the computer. He double-checked that none had slipped between the keys or fallen on the floor, then tossed the handful into the reclaimer. He checked again for chewed bits.

Item: Pillow into reclaimer.

Jeff put his hand into the deep, cold hollow in Rat’s pillow. Poor Rat. The habitat really freaked her.

“Less than a day, Rat,” he whispered. That’s all it would take to unload and refuel the shuttle for the trip back to Earth. With LB’s help, Rat would tough it out.

Jeff was the one on his own now.

He hugged the pillow hard to his chest, then smooshed it into the reclaimer. The machine gulped. A lot of trash, but Rat had programmed the computer to forget even that.

Item: Old clothes into laundry/shower with antiseptic/wear booties/new clothes.

Jeff stripped, smiling as he slipped his bare feet into the too-big boots. Rat had thought of everything! He couldn’t throw away these Velcro boots. They were the only ones that even came close to fitting him.

So into the shower with them. The warm water pooled inside. Jeff soaped the boots along with his body. His eyes watered as the steam carried the scouring fumes up his nose.

Quick now. Dry the body. Dry the boots. They were waterproof, at least. No squishing when he walked.

Clean underwear. New jump suit.

A glance at the clock: twelve minutes to spare.

“How about that, Rat?” he said, surveying the empty room. Except for the three sunspot posters, it was as clean and bare as the day he had arrived.

Last item: Activate Scrub-a-Dub/crash pocket computer/leave on desk.

On the main computer, Jeff called up Scrub-a-Dub. He activated it, and 180 seconds flashed on the screen, then started ticking down by seconds. Besides the hundred other things it did, Scrub-a-Dub would also create a false fire alarm, flooding the room with fire foam. The chemical would wipe out any lingering Rat sign.

Just as Jeff crashed the pocket computer, there was a knock at the door—but not in code!

“Who’s there?”

“It’s your mother.”

“Mom!” She was dressed in a conservative pantsuit and carrying a briefcase. Her hair was in a tight bun with a restrained highlight of green at each temple. “What are you doing here?”

“Well, that’s a fine way to greet—whoa! Look at this place! Packed and ready to go, huh?” Mom stepped into the room, saw the posters, and froze. “Oh, Jeff! You picked some of the best ones. I didn’t think you even cared. Now look,” she said, dabbing her eyes. Black smeared along her forefinger. “You messed up my makeup. And I want to look super sharp for that investigator.”

That explained the power suit. The investigator was from an important research company.

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