Chapter 145 · The Entrapment

By the time they reached the commercial hub, the trap was still armed. The indicator on Stent’s datapad had never changed. No trigger. No movement alert. Nothing.

Nemi checked twice anyway. “Maybe the sensor missed it.”

“It did not,” Stent said.

“You sound very confident.”

“I tested it.”

“That does sound like you.”

They docked, transmitted the agricultural manifest and began unloading almost immediately.

The hub’s freight crew provided a grav-lifter this time, which made the work considerably faster than loading had been. One by one, the vegetable pallets disappeared down the ramp and onto the receiving platform outside.

Eli handled the manifest. Dara checked crate numbers against the cooperative’s shipping record. Nemi helped guide the smaller loads. Stent remained mostly inside the hold, releasing restraints and watching for any sign of movement between the pallets. Tee watched everything. Especially the floor.

By the final crate, his dome had completed so many slow rotations that Eli was beginning to expect dizziness on principle.

The last pallet floated down the ramp. The receiving clerk signed the delivery. Eli confirmed the transfer.

Then the four of them went back inside. The cargo bay was empty. Completely empty.

For the first time since Peloran Reach, there were no crates, no pallets, no agricultural containers and nowhere obvious for a small animal to hide.

The trap still sat beside the bulkhead exactly where Stent had left it.

The door remained open. The piece of meat lay untouched at the far end.

Nemi stared at it. “Oh.”

Tee emitted a low, suspicious tone.

Eli walked farther into the hold. There was nothing beneath the restraint tracks. Nothing beside the grav-trolley. Nothing behind the equipment cabinet. He crouched and checked beneath the lowest engineering conduit anyway. Empty.

Dara folded her arms. “Could it have left inside one of the crates?”

Stent was already examining that possibility. “It could have moved between pallets while we unloaded.”

“Without any of us seeing it?”

“Yes.”

Nemi looked toward the open ramp. “So it might be somewhere on the station now.”

Tee beeped.

Eli glanced down at him. “What?”

Another sequence.

“No, we are not filing a missing-animal report.”

Tee beeped more insistently.

“It was never our animal.”

Stent picked up the trap and inspected the bait. “It was not interested.”

“Maybe it wasn’t hungry,” Nemi said.

“Or maybe it is not attracted to this type of meat.”

Eli looked around the bare cargo bay again. “Or maybe it left.”

Tee made a deeply skeptical noise.

Dara crouched beside one of the wall panels. “Are there access spaces behind these?”

“Yes,” Eli said.

“How many?”

He hesitated.

Stent answered. “Several.”

Nemi’s expression changed. “How several?”

“The cargo bay connects indirectly to maintenance channels, ventilation ducts, service conduits and structural access spaces.”

Eli looked at him. “You could have defined that less.”

Stent continued examining the wall. “If it entered one of those spaces before unloading, removing the cargo would not expose it.”

Nemi looked slowly upward. “So it could be anywhere in the ship.”

Tee produced the loudest beep yet.

Eli pointed at him. “That is exactly the level of enthusiasm I did not need.”

Dara stood again, visibly amused. “At least it isn’t disturbing the cargo anymore.”

Tee turned toward her.

Its photoreceptor seemed to narrow despite having no physical means of doing so. Nemi covered a laugh. Eli walked the perimeter of the empty bay once more. No fur. No droppings. No scratches that had not already been there. No evidence that a small carnivorous creature had spent the last several hours aboard at all.

He stopped beside the open trap. “This is ridiculous.”

Stent folded the mechanism shut.

“We will monitor the ship.”

“That sounds ominous.”

“It is a factual statement.”

Nemi leaned against the doorway. “I still think it’s cute.”

“You saw it for approximately six seconds.”

“That was sufficient.”

Tee beeped sharply.

Nemi looked at him. “You’re just angry because you lost it.”

The droid froze.

Eli closed his eyes. “Oh, don’t—”

Tee spun around and accelerated out of the cargo bay.

Nemi blinked.

“Where’s he going?”

“To search the ship,” Eli said.

A distant panel opened somewhere in the corridor. Then another.

Stent listened for a moment. “He appears motivated.”

Dara laughed.

Eli looked at the empty cargo bay, the untouched trap, and the doorway through which Tee had just vanished on what was rapidly becoming a personal campaign.

Their agricultural delivery was complete. Their hold was empty. Their mysterious passenger was nowhere to be found.

Which, Eli suspected, meant the problem had not been solved at all. It had merely hidden.

They left the commercial hub less than an hour later.

There was no reason to stay. The agricultural cargo had been delivered, their provisions were restocked, fuel levels were satisfactory, and the route ahead remained unpleasant enough without volunteering for additional delay.

The missing animal complicated none of those things. Technically.

In practice, everyone aboard the Faded Glory became considerably more attentive to small noises. Nemi checked beneath her chair before sitting down. Dara opened one storage cabinet with unusual caution after hearing something scrape behind it. Eli caught himself looking toward the floor whenever a shadow moved at the edge of his vision. Tee became unbearable.

The first alert came twenty minutes after departure.

He raced into the cockpit beeping urgently enough that Eli straightened in his seat.

“What?”

Tee emitted a rapid sequence and pointed toward the aft corridor.

“You detected it?”

Another beep.

“Where?”

The answer was less confident.

Eli looked at Stent.

Stent looked at Tee. “Approximate location?”

Tee chirped, rotated his dome, then indicated an area that appeared to encompass most of the aft third of the ship.

“That is not a location,” Stent said.

Tee objected.

Ten minutes later, Stent was removing a ventilation grille outside engineering while Tee supervised. Nothing was inside.

The second grille produced dust.

The third produced an old cable fastener Eli had been wondering about for months.

The fourth produced nothing whatsoever.

At the fifth, Stent sat back on his heels and looked at the droid. “Tee.”

Tee beeped.

“No.”

Another beep.

“You have detected intermittent motion, vibration or thermal variation. You have not established that any of those readings belong to the animal.”

Tee protested at length.

Stent replaced the grille. “I am not dismantling the ventilation system.”

Tee emitted a wounded tone.

“You may continue monitoring.”

Another beep.

“You may not remove panels without telling us first.”

Tee turned toward Eli.

Eli raised both hands. “Don’t look at me. I’m siding with him.”

Tee rolled away in disgust.

Eli watched him disappear down the corridor. “He’s going to do it anyway.”

“Yes.”

“You know that.”

“Yes.”

“And we’re just accepting it.”

“For now.”

That sounded ominous enough that Eli decided not to ask what happened after for now.

By evening, the animal had produced no further evidence of its existence.

No tracks. No disturbed storage. No mysterious droppings. No damaged wiring.

Nothing.

Tee claimed two additional sensor events.

Stent declined to investigate either.

He had other responsibilities.

Specifically, dinner.

Eli discovered this when he entered the galley and found Stent already preparing vegetables from Peloran Reach with the focused expression of someone conducting a technical procedure.

Nemi sat at the table watching. “You cut everything exactly the same size.”

“Yes.”

“Why?”

“So it cooks evenly.”

“That was disappointingly sensible.”

Stent continued cutting.

Eli opened the refrigeration unit. “What are you making?”

“Dinner.”

“Useful.”

“You asked.”

Eli glanced over the ingredients.

Fresh greens, root vegetables, grain and some of the meat they had bought at the colony. Stent had also retrieved one of the sharper sauces from storage.

“That’s for you, isn’t it?”

“Yes.”

“Thought so.”

Dara entered while Eli was setting out plates.

Her gaze moved automatically around the room, including—Eli noticed—the floor.

He smiled. “You’re doing it too.”

She looked at him. “Doing what?”

“Checking for the animal.”

“I was checking the room.”

“Of course.”

Dara took her seat.

Nemi leaned toward her. “Tee says it’s in the ventilation.”

“Tee says many things.”

A distant beep sounded from the corridor.

Nemi called back, “I didn’t say they weren’t important!”

Stent brought the food over. “Eat before it cools.”

That ended the debate.

The meal was good.

Stent’s cooking usually was, although Eli had learned not to compliment it too enthusiastically because Stent responded to praise by explaining what could have been improved.

Nemi had no such restraint. “This is excellent.”

“The root vegetables are slightly overdone.”

“They’re not.”

“They are.”

“Don’t ruin your own food.”

Stent looked at her.

Nemi pointed her fork at him. “That’s advice.”

Dara smiled faintly.

Eli ate and, for several minutes, managed not to think about routes, rebels, hidden animals or whether one of their passengers was quietly compiling an intelligence assessment of his entire life.

Then Dara nodded toward his left arm. “That sensor.”

Eli glanced down. The monitor was visible beneath his rolled sleeve. “What about it?”

“My brother wears one.”

That caught his attention. “Really?”

“For years now.” She took another bite before continuing. “Different manufacturer, I think, but same principle.”

Eli touched the edge of the device unconsciously. “Continuous glucose monitor.”

Dara nodded. “His changed his life.”

Nemi looked between them. “Diabetes?”

“Yes,” Dara said. “Since he was young.”

Eli leaned back slightly.

There was something unexpectedly reassuring about hearing the subject raised without concern, curiosity or that particular cautious tone people sometimes developed when they realized a medical condition might become operationally relevant.

“They’re useful,” Dara continued. “Much better than checking manually all the time. He hated doing that.”

“That would be unpractical.”

“Still does, when the sensor fails.”

Eli smiled. “They always choose the least convenient moment.”

“That sounds familiar.”

Dara looked again at the device.

“He’s had some trouble with them long-term, though. Skin irritation. Places he can’t use anymore because he wore sensors there too often. And sometimes the readings drift badly enough that he stops trusting them until he checks another way.”

Eli nodded. “Yeah. You rotate placement as much as you can. I was told that.”

“And carry backups.”

“Always.”

Nemi glanced toward the sensor. “Does it hurt?”

“Putting it on?”

She nodded.

“Not much. More annoying than painful.”

“And it just sits there reading all the time?”

“More or less.”

Stent, who had been eating quietly through most of the conversation, said, “It transmits regularly to the handheld reader and can generate alerts if his glucose moves outside predefined thresholds.”

Nemi looked at him. “You know his settings.”

“Yes.”

Eli continued eating.

Dara noticed. Of course she noticed. “You monitor him too.”

Stent met her gaze. “When necessary.”

Eli sighed. “He considers me part of ship maintenance.”

“That is inaccurate.”

“You literally once called me a critical system.”

“You are.” Stent conceded.

Nemi laughed.

Dara’s expression softened. “My brother’s wife does the same thing. Pretends she isn’t checking, but somehow always knows when his readings have been strange.”

Eli looked toward Stent. Stent ignored him.

Dara took a drink. “He complains about it.”

“So do I.”

“Doesn’t mean he wants her to stop.”

That landed a little closer than Eli expected.

He glanced down at his plate. “No,” he said. “Probably not.”

For a moment the conversation quieted. Not awkwardly.

Just enough for Eli to become aware of the ship around them again: engines humming beneath the deck, ventilation moving softly through the overhead ducts, Tee somewhere aft continuing his private investigation.

Then Nemi said, “So is there a better option than the sensor?”

Eli looked up.

“For monitoring? Not really, not for me right now.”

Dara nodded. “My brother keeps talking about one of the newer closed-loop implants. Says if he can ever afford it, he’s done wearing sensors on his arm.”

“Bionic pancreas?”

“Something like that.”

Eli smiled faintly. “I’ve looked at them.” Stent’s eyes shifted toward him. Of course they did. “They’re expensive,” Eli added.

“And not available everywhere,” Dara said.

“That too.”

Nemi looked between Eli and Stent again. “You’re going to get one, aren’t you?”

Eli laughed. “We’re currently travelling across half the galaxy looking for fruit while secretly transporting Rebel personnel. Medical upgrades are not exactly at the top of the schedule.”

Stent took another bite. “They should be.”

Eli turned his head. “No.”

“You have already acknowledged the limitations of the current system.”

“I have acknowledged that every medical device has limitations.”

“A closed-loop replacement would reduce several operational vulnerabilities.”

Dara watched them with open interest now.

Eli pointed his fork at Stent. “You are not turning dinner into a procurement briefing.”

“I was responding to the discussion.”

“You were planning.”

“Yes.”

“That is worse.”

Nemi smiled. “I think he’s already decided.”

“He does that.”

“I have decided nothing,” Stent said.

Eli looked at Dara.

“He’s lying.”

“I am not.”

Dara’s mouth curved.

“Interesting.”

Eli immediately regretted looking at her.

There it was again.

That tiny intelligence-officer tone.

“Don’t write that down.”

“I wasn’t going to.”

“Mentally counts.”

“Then you’re in trouble.”

Nemi laughed.

Even Stent’s expression shifted slightly.

For a few minutes afterward the conversation stayed easy. Dara told them about her brother destroying three sensors in one month because he refused to stop playing a contact sport. Nemi confessed that medical devices made her nervous because anything continuously transmitting data offended her professionally unless she had personally inspected the encryption.

Stent asked what she would change. That became a technical discussion. Eli stopped following it after thirty seconds. He sat back, finished his meal and listened to the three of them argue about signal security while Tee rolled abruptly into the galley.

Everyone looked down.

The droid stopped beside Stent and emitted a sharp, urgent sequence.

Stent frowned. “What?”

Tee repeated it and extended one manipulator toward the datapad lying beside Stent’s plate.

A small indicator was flashing on the screen.

Stent picked it up. For the first time that evening, his expression changed. “The trap.”

Nemi straightened so quickly she nearly knocked her chair back. “It went off?”

“Yes.”

Tee beeped emphatically.

Eli looked toward the corridor. “Finally!”

Nemi was already halfway to her feet.

Stent pointed at her without looking up from the datapad. “Wait.”

She stopped. “But—”

“We do not know what state the animal is in, or whether the trap closed correctly.”

Tee produced another impatient burst.

Stent rose. “All right.”

That was enough.

Nemi followed immediately.

Dara stood more slowly, visibly amused by the sudden transformation of dinner into an expedition.

Eli looked at his unfinished drink, then at the others disappearing toward the cargo bay. “Of course.”

He got up and followed them.

The trap had worked.

By the time they reached the cargo bay, the small enclosure sat exactly where Stent had left it, its door firmly shut.

Inside, the creature was pressed into the far corner.

The hunger had apparently won. The piece of meat was on the side, with a bite mark.

Now the animal had nowhere left to run. It made itself as small as possible, body low, fur puffed out along its back. When the cargo-bay door opened and four much larger figures appeared, it bared tiny sharp teeth and produced a rough, rattling growl that seemed entirely disproportionate to its size.

Nemi stopped in the doorway. “Oh.”

The creature hissed. Tee beeped back.

Stent immediately turned toward him. “No.”

Tee went silent.

The animal shifted again, claws scraping faintly against the bottom of the trap.

Dara stayed where she was. “It’s terrified.”

“Yes,” Stent said.

He stepped closer, slowly enough not to provoke another frantic movement. The creature growled again. Stent stopped. Then, without comment, he pulled his shirt over his head.

Eli blinked. Nemi blinked too.

Stent folded the shirt once, crouched, and carefully draped it over the trap. Darkness enclosed the animal almost completely. The growling continued for several seconds. Then softened. A moment later, the scraping stopped.

Stent remained crouched beside the covered enclosure, listening. “That should reduce the stimuli.” he whispered.

Nemi lowered her voice automatically. “Can I look?”

“No.” She frowned. “We have already captured it,” Stent said. “There is no reason to continue stressing it.”

That ended the discussion. He stood and looked toward the others. “Everyone out.”

Eli glanced at the covered trap. “What are you going to do?”

“Leave it alone for several minutes.”

“And then?”

“Determine how to handle it safely.”

Dara nodded once. “Makes sense.”

Nemi lingered.

Stent looked at her. “It will still be here.”

“That wasn’t what I was worried about.”

“I know.”

She hesitated, then finally stepped back into the corridor.

Tee remained.

Stent looked down at him.

“Tee.”

The droid beeped quietly.

“You as well.”

Tee rotated his dome toward the covered trap. Another small, indignant sound.

“The intruder is contained.”

Tee considered that.

Apparently the phrase satisfied him. It rolled out. Eli was last to leave. At the threshold, he looked back.

Stent stood beside the trap, bare-chested now, arms folded, watching the covered enclosure with the same patient concentration he would have given a damaged engine or an uncertain navigation problem.

Eli smiled faintly. “You realize your shirt is now wildlife equipment.”

“It can be washed.”

“Of course.”

By the time Stent returned to the cabin, Eli was already in bed. He had one arm behind his head and a datapad resting against his chest, though he had stopped reading several minutes earlier.

The door opened. Stent came in wearing his usual sleep clothes: loose shorts, soft shirt. The sleeping socks waited by the nightstand, these were not for walking around.

Eli looked up. “Well?”

Stent closed the door behind him. “It is calmer.”

“That sounds promising.”

“I gave it water. It drank.”

Eli lowered the datapad. “And?”

“I moved the trap into the darkest corner of the cargo bay and left the covering in place.”

“Your shirt.”

“Yes.”

Eli smiled.

Stent ignored that and crossed toward the bed. “I also arranged part of it inside the enclosure so it has somewhere to conceal itself.”

Eli stared at him. “You made it a nest.”

“I provided cover.”

“You made it a nest out of your shirt.”

“The fabric was already there.”

“That is not making this less funny.”

Stent sat on the edge of the bed. “The animal is frightened. Additional handling would serve no purpose.”

“I know.”

Eli was still smiling.

Stent looked at him. “What?”

“Nothing. I just enjoy discovering where your pragmatism develops exceptions.”

“This is not an exception.”

“You built a bed for a wild animal.”

“I reduced unnecessary stress for a creature who is finding itself trapped in an unknown environment.”

“With your clothes.”

“The shirt was dirty.”

Eli laughed softly.

Stent pulled back the covers, sat and began putting on his sleeping socks. “It should be removed from the vessel at the next suitable opportunity.”

“Agreed.”

Stent settled into the other side of the bed. Then, after a moment, added, “Suitable being the important part.”

Eli turned his head toward him. “I’m relieved to find you’re not going to dump it at the next station.”

“No.”

“Good.”

“A space station would be inappropriate. It is almost certainly adapted to a planetary environment. If we let it loose somewhere random, we might kill it anyway.”

“Or introduce it into an ecosystem in which it does not belong.” Eli nodded. “That too.” They lay quiet for a moment. Then Eli said, “Nemi would murder us if we released it into a docking bay.”

“I see she would object strongly.”

“That was the polite version.”

“Yes.”

Eli looked toward the ceiling. “So now we have to find a planet with the right climate, enough food, compatible wildlife and preferably no ecological authorities asking why we’re releasing an unidentified predator.”

Stent considered that. “We should identify the species first.”

“Of course we should.”

“If Peloran Reach has accessible agricultural records, the local fauna may be catalogued.”

Eli turned onto his side. “I’ll look when we drop out of hyperspace. Once we have HoloNet coverage again, it shouldn’t be difficult to pull the colony’s agricultural records.”

“That would be sensible.”

“You’re already planning the release.”

“I am planning to avoid making the situation worse.”

Eli chuckled. “Why do I feel like this is going to turn into the dad and the tooka he didn’t want?”

Stent looked at him. “What?”

“When Laro and I were kids, one day we came home from school with two tooklings we found by the road. Tiny things. Half-starved, filthy, absolutely pathetic.” Stent was listening now. “My father was very clear. No animals in the house. He said it twice, actually. Very firm about it.”

“And?”

Eli smiled. “At the end of the week the three of them were inseparable.” Stent’s expression did not change. “My father used to fall asleep on the couch with both tooklings on top of him. One on his chest, one tucked against his side. They took naps together.” A fondness had crept into Eli’s voice without him noticing. “They were also the beginning of a very specific Vanto Shipping Company tradition. Once they were old enough, they started riding along on short freight runs. After that, somehow, there was always a tooka attached to the business, as more came after them. One on a ship, one sleeping in a patch of sunlight in the office, one sitting on somebody’s paperwork as if that was its assigned station.”

Stent regarded him. “So your father’s refusal was unsuccessful on a generational level.”

“Completely. By the time Laro and I were older, having a tooka in the office was practically company policy.”

“Was it written policy?”

“No.”

“Then it was not company policy.”

“It was more binding than company policy. If there wasn’t a tooka in the office, people noticed.”

“That does not appear relevant to this situation.”

“It feels relevant.”

“It is not.”

“You made it a nest.”

“I explained that.”

“And gave it water.”

“It requires water.”

“And now you’re planning a species identification.”

“That is necessary for responsible release.”

Eli grinned in the darkness before the lights had even gone out.

“Sure.”

Stent reached toward the bedside control. “We should sleep.”

“Probably.”

The light dimmed. Then disappeared.

For several minutes, the cabin settled into quiet. The engines hummed softly through the hull. Somewhere far aft, beyond two bulkheads and a sealed cargo-bay door, their unexpected stowaway was presumably curled beneath Stent’s shirt in the dark.

Eli lay staring at nothing. Then the conclusion arrived.

“Stent.”

A pause.

“Yes?”

“We don’t have two passengers anymore.”

Silence.

“We have three.”

Stent said nothing.

Which, to Eli, sounded suspiciously like agreement.