“Ring 56, Section C,” said Jim. “It’s a cargo bay full of solar panels. No kid.”
“I can’t believe you can’t find a kid,” said Mama. “He’s just a child! You’re supposed to be smarter than a child, Jim.”
Zero moved through a narrow aisle of stasis pods on Ring 52, toward the maintenance tube in Section B. As soon as Jim announced his next target—a cargo bay on Ring 56, Section H—Zero slipped into the B tube and jumped up, traveling several Rings and shooting right past 56 in a flash. With Jim far behind him he breathed a little easier, but he was still spooked by Mama and Nyx. Where were they?
Zero changed tubes frequently, trying to make himself as unpredictable as possible. He didn’t want to stay in one place, or on one path, any longer than necessary. It kept him hidden, but it slowed him down, and it took him almost an hour to reach Ring 240. If he was going to ruin their food, he had to make sure he got all their food, and that meant the meal bricks in the Drago as well as the Pathfinder. He hovered out of sight near the Drago’s entrance, listening, but it didn’t sound like anyone was there. He pulled himself closer, certain that there would be a guard—maybe Nyx—since she didn’t seem to be anywhere else. But he heard nothing. He peeked out, and saw an empty hallway. Four pirates were not enough to keep watch over an entire spaceship. He took the risk and jumped across the open space, through the door, and into the Drago. It was mostly as he’d left it, though if possible it was even messier—when Kratt had taken the space suit, he’d apparently scattered everything else that cargo net had been holding all over of the main room. It occurred to Zero that Kratt might be looking in from outside, so he stayed away from the cockpit windows just in case. He maneuvered through the floating clutter and hunted for the pirates’ food stores. Every few seconds he looked back at the entrance, expecting to see one of the pirates walking in on him with a stun gun. He searched in the cargo nets, he searched in the lockers, he even searched in the disgusting bathroom again. Finally he found a large cooler shoved under one of the sleeping bag wall-beds, but when he opened it he found only a handful of ration packs—six small meal bricks, all of them labeled “Chicken Stroganoff.” Apparently none of the pirates liked chicken stroganoff. He jumped back to the bedroom door, looking across to the main ship entrance, but saw no one.
Time to do this, Zero thought.
He flew back to the cooler, unwrapped a corner of each meal, and used one of his tomato sauce straws to dab a bit of spoiled food into each one. He closed them up again, stashed the empty straw in one of the sleeping bags, and fled back out of the Drago. He’d done it! But he wasn’t sure it would do him any good: no one was likely to eat those meal bricks anytime soon.
He had to go up to the fore of the ship—to the rec room and the rest of the food. He slipped out of the Drago and back into the Pathfinder.
“I’m sick of searching,” said Jim on the communicator. “I’m coming back up.”
“No, that’s where I’m going!” whispered Zero.
“You stay until you find him,” said Mama.
“Yes, what she said,” said Zero to himself.
“This ship is a kilometer long and a hundred meters wide,” said Jim. His voice was angry now. “That’s almost eight million cubic meters of volume, and that kid probably takes up half a cubic meter at best. I’m not going to find him until he does something stupid, and I’m hungry and tired, so I’m coming back up!”
Zero grimaced. “No!”
“Check the Drago, then,” said Mama, and Zero froze in the hallway, mouth open.
“No way,” said Zero. “Am I really that lucky?”
“Nyx was supposed to be watching it, but I haven’t heard from her in a while.”
“You think he got her?” asked Jim.
“I think she’s off screwing around, like usual,” said Mama.
“Fine,” said Jim, “I’ll check the ship.”
Zero punched the air in excitement—his plan was going to work! But then he realized he was floating in plain view, right where Jim was headed, and pushed himself into the nearest aisle of stasis pods to hide. Should he wait? Or just head up to the control room now? Better to keep moving. He floated all the way around to the opposite side of the ship, and then peeked into a maintenance tube. No Jim in this one, and no one in the other direction, either. He pulled himself in and jumped up, moving as quickly as he could. When he reached Ring 299 he heard voices: Mama and Spider were arguing.
“… then it doesn’t matter,” said Mama, “because we’ll catch him eventually anyway.”
“One of him, maybe,” said Spider. “Twenty thousand of him? You go on and on about having twenty thousand workers in your mine, but this one kids shows exactly why that’s a bad idea. How are you going to keep control of that many people?”
“Once we’re on Tacita, we can use guns again,” said Mama. “That’ll keep ’em in line.”
Spider answered around a mouthful of food: “We’re a tiny outpost. We have a thousand bullets, at best. That’s nineteen thousand colonists left to overrun us.”
Zero inched closer. Both women were in the rec room, and by the sounds of it they were eating. He was too late! He wanted to float over toward the door, so he could peek in, but that would mean going out into the central column. What if Jim saw him? And where was Nyx?
He hesitated, and then doubled back toward the maintenance tubes. He could hide in the last place they’d ever expect to see him again: in the computer banks. He found the same hatch he’d used before, and slipped inside.
“I’m back at the Drago,” said Jim. “Everything’s fine. I’m coming up—”
“You wanted to eat,” said Mama, “so eat in the Drago. Someone’s got to eat those chicken stroganoffs, and you’re the one that bought ’em.”
Zero did a little antigravity dance of joy.
“They were cheap!” said Jim.
“Just eat one,” said Spider.
“And watch the Drago,” said Mama. “Sooner or later that kid’s going to think about going in there, and then we’re all in trouble.”
That made Zero pause. What was in the Drago that could put them all in trouble? Or was she just being dramatic about the invasion of their personal space?
Either way, Jim was about to eat a spoiled meal, and that’d be one more pirate down—
“Uh oh,” said Jim. “Green Alert.”
Zero floated closer to the rec room wall, and heard Spider’s confused response through the vent: “What’s a green alert?”
Mama sighed. “That’s when he thinks there’s an alien.” She got on the communicator. “For crying out loud, Jim, there’s no alien!”
“Something’s gotten into the meal bricks!” said Jim. “Not a person—it’s a creature. Something was nibbling on the corners!”
“Maybe it’s a rat,” said Spider.
“We don’t have rats,” said Mama. “Kratt ate them all.”
“Something was poking into these meal bricks with … hollow teeth! What has hollow teeth? I swear to you. It’s an alien!” Jim insisted.
Zero looked at his little coffee straws. They did kind of look like long, hollow teeth.
“Stop making up stories!” said Spider. “You just don’t want to eat the stroganoff!”
Zero could see the women clearly now through the vent: Spider and Mama, floating in the rec room with their meals in front of them. Some kind of burrito thing? They both had one, whatever it was, and they were both ignoring their food, talking on the communicators instead. It would have been the perfect opportunity to poke the food with some spoiled tomato sauce, but they were too far away. Maybe if Kratt had actually managed to rip the vent off the wall, Zero could reach his arm through and stab the lasagna, but even that might be too far away. What could he do?
“I’m not going to eat this,” said Jim. “It’s contaminated.” Zero scowled. He was so close!
“Suit yourself,” said Mama, “but stay in that ship. I don’t want that kid to start snooping around.”
“I’m throwing this away,” said Jim, and Mama turned away from her food in a rage, pushing herself toward the door.
“Just because you don’t want it doesn’t mean nobody else will!”
Now Spider was the only one looking at the burritos.
“It’s contaminated!” shouted Jim. “It’s not safe.”
“I’m done here,” said Spider. “You two argue all you want—I’m going back to the control room.” She pushed past Mama, and suddenly no one was looking at the food. It was right there, in front of Zero, unattended but out of reach. He looked at the straw in his hand; it would easily fit through the slats in the vent. Maybe he could throw it? Or—
The answer was so simple he almost laughed. With the sauce in the straw it was basically a blow dart. He slid one end through the vent, aimed it carefully, took a big breath, then put his mouth on the clean end of the straw and blew. A tiny blob of tomato sauce flew out, crossed the room, and splatted on the wall behind the burrito.
He missed!
He took another straw, aimed carefully, and blew. He hit the chair.
He had one tomato straw left. Mama couldn’t keep yelling at Jim for too much longer. He poked the straw through the vent, aimed, and blew.
The bacteria-ridden tomato sauce sailed across the room in a perfect, straight line, and splashed onto one of the burritos. But whose? Mama turned around, and Zero pulled the straw back through the vent and out of view.
Mama floated back to the burritos, grabbed the contaminated one, and took a bite. She frowned as she ate the tiny blob of tomato sauce. “This salsa’s really bland.”
Zero silently punched the air in triumph.