Chapter 144 · Roommates

By the second morning, Eli had discovered that four people could make the Faded Glory feel considerably smaller than three.

Not because Nemi or Dara occupied much physical space.

Nemi, in fact, seemed to possess an almost supernatural ability to fold herself into whatever corner happened to be available, usually with a datapad balanced against one knee and a cable or diagnostic probe emerging from somewhere around her elbows. She had adapted to the ship quickly. By breakfast she had learned which galley cabinet stuck, which seat at the table wobbled, and that Tee objected to anyone placing anything on top of his charging interface.

She had learned the last point through experiment. Tee had removed her cup and deposited it on the floor. Nemi had put it back. Tee had removed it again. By the third repetition Eli had intervened before the dispute escalated into something requiring tools.

Dara was different.

Dara never seemed to be in the way.

That was worse.

She moved quietly, kept her belongings contained, asked before using anything and somehow always seemed to be sitting somewhere from which she could see the door.

Eli noticed.

Then he noticed himself noticing.

That became irritating very quickly.

Their routines had not disappeared. They had merely acquired witnesses.

Stent still woke earlier than Eli.

Tee still began maintenance cycles before either of them wanted to hear them.

Eli still wandered into the galley half awake and unwilling to discuss anything significant before caff. What had changed was that there was now a reasonable possibility that someone else would already be there.

On the first morning, Nemi was.

She sat at the table wearing an oversized sleep shirt, hair partly escaped from its braids, staring suspiciously at the galley dispenser. “Does this make caff?”

“Technically.”

“That answer worries me.”

“It should.”

Eli opened the cabinet, retrieved the grounds they actually used and began setting up the brewer.

Nemi watched him. “You carry your own.”

“I have standards.”

“You sleep on a freighter held together by patches.”

“Those are unrelated matters.”

She leaned back in her chair. “Dara drinks whatever comes out of the machine.”

Eli looked toward the corridor. “That explains a lot.”

“What?”

“Nothing.”

Nemi grinned.

She was easy to talk to. That was probably intentional too, Eli thought. Then immediately decided he was becoming ridiculous.

Dara came in five minutes later already dressed.

That alone felt accusatory.

Eli was still barefoot.

Nemi looked as though she had recently lost a fight with a blanket.

Dara looked prepared to brief a general. “Morning,” she said.

“Is it?”

“It has been for some time.”

Eli handed her a cup. She accepted it, tasted the caff and glanced at him.

“This is much better than the dispenser.”

“Thank you.”

“You make breakfast too?”

Nemi looked delighted. “Apparently we booked the luxury passage.”

“You booked passage on a cargo ship,” Eli said. “Manage expectations. I’ll handle the cooking for now, until you know where everything is and which cupboards have decided to jam this week.” Nemi glanced toward the galley storage. “After that,” Eli added, “we’re establishing meal rotations. Four people means four people get turns.”

Dara took another drink. There was nothing particularly unusual in the way she looked around the galley. Nothing obvious in the questions she asked. Nothing Eli could have identified as interrogation.

That was precisely the problem.

She learned things.

How long they had owned the ship. How often they stopped for supplies. How Eli divided watch rotations with Stent. Whether Tee handled maintenance alone or only diagnostics.

All of it came naturally in conversation.

Too naturally.

By the time Dara had finished her caff, Eli had the uncomfortable feeling that she could probably draw a respectable diagram of their daily operations.

Nemi, meanwhile, was asking whether the cooker really had only two heat zones. “Yes.”

“That’s barbaric.”

“It’s a freighter.”

“I’ve seen escape pods with better kitchens.”

“Then next time the Rebellion needs clandestine transport, request an escape pod.”

Dara smiled into her cup. Eli saw that too.

Later that afternoon, he found Stent in the cargo hold.

That was not unusual.

The largest open space aboard the Faded Glory had become Stent’s preferred place for exercise whenever they were carrying little enough cargo to leave a clear section of deck. Eli had learned long ago that Stent became increasingly unpleasant if confined for too many days without physical activity, though Stent himself described the effect as a decline in operational readiness.

At present he was halfway through a set of controlled repetitions using a resistance cable anchored to one of the deck fittings.

Eli stopped near the hatch.

Stent continued.

“You know,” Eli said, “I think Dara is making me paranoid.”

“You were already capable of paranoia.”

“Helpful.”

Stent changed grip and continued the exercise.

Eli leaned against the bulkhead. “She asks questions.”

“So does Nemi.”

“Nemi asks whether we have any decent holodramas and why Tee hates her.”

“Tee does not hate her.”

“He relocated her shoes into the engineering access before.”

“That was corrective feedback.”

Eli decided not to pursue that. “Dara asks about the ship.”

“She is an intelligence officer.”

“Yes. Exactly.”

Stent finished the repetition, released tension carefully and switched the cable attachment.

Eli waited.

Stent did not appear inclined to fill the silence.

“I’m starting to wonder if she isn’t actually just a passenger.”

That got a glance. “Explain.”

Eli lowered his voice despite the fact that the cargo hold door was closed. “What if she’s here to assess us?”

Stent considered it for perhaps two seconds. “That is probable.”

Eli stared.

Stent resumed exercising.

“That’s it?”

“What response did you expect?”

“I don’t know. Concern?” Eli huffed.

“Why?”

“Because we may have an intelligence officer aboard specifically to decide whether we’re trustworthy.”

“Yes.”

“And that doesn’t bother you?”

“No.”

Eli pushed away from the bulkhead. “You could at least pretend this is new information.”

“It is not.”

“You already thought of it.”

“Of course.”

“Since when?”

“Before she boarded.”

Eli threw both hands up.

Stent completed another repetition.

“If the Rebellion intended to use our vessel for further transport or information exchange, assessing us would be logical. We appeared after a period of no contact, requested current route intelligence and offered transport capacity while using Imperial-compatible documentation. Trusting us without verification would be poor intelligence practice.”

“When you phrase it like that, we sound incredibly suspicious.”

“We are.”

Eli opened his mouth. Then closed it. “That was unnecessary.”

“It was accurate.”

Stent released the cable, rolled one shoulder and reached for his water bottle.

Eli watched him drink. “So you think Dara is evaluating us.”

“Probably.”

“And you’re just going to let her?”

Stent lowered the bottle. “What alternative do you propose?”

Eli had none.

“That isn’t the point.”

“If she is assessing us, deliberate efforts to appear trustworthy would be counterproductive.”

“So we act normally.”

“Yes.”

Eli glanced toward the closed hatch. “Our normal includes you exercising shirtless in the cargo hold.”

“That is irrelevant.”

“I suspect Dara records everything.”

“Then she will record that I maintain physical conditioning.”

Eli rubbed a hand over his face. “You are impossible to make nervous.”

“That is incorrect.”

“Fine. You are impossible to make nervous about useful things.”

Stent picked up the resistance cable again. “Dara has not attempted to access restricted systems, inspect our personal data or interfere with operations. Her observation presents no immediate threat.”

“And if she decides she doesn’t trust us?”

“Then she will presumably report that conclusion.”

Eli waited.

Stent looked at him.

“And?”

“We continue toward the distributor.”

That was annoyingly reasonable.

Eli sighed.

“I liked it better when our only problem was fruit.”

“You complained extensively about the fruit.”

“I was happier then.”

“No, you were not.”

Eli pointed toward him. “This is why people don’t enjoy talking to you while you exercise.”

Stent resumed the repetition. “I was unaware this was a social activity.”

The need for provisions arrived before the next scheduled stop.

They still had dry stores and preserved food aboard, but most of the fresh produce Eli had bought several stops earlier was now gone, and what remained needed to be eaten within another day or two.

Four people accelerated consumption considerably.

So did Nemi.

Eli discovered this while checking the refrigeration inventory. “Did you eat all the berries?”

Nemi looked up from the galley table. “No.”

Eli held up the empty container.

She reconsidered. “Not all at once.”

“That does not improve the situation.”

“They were going soft.”

“That was why I was going to use them tonight.”

Nemi looked genuinely apologetic. Then thoughtful. “There are two left.”

“Where?”

She pointed at her bowl. Eli closed his eyes.

Dara, seated across from her, did not look up from her datapad. “She warned you yesterday that she eats when nervous.”

Nemi frowned. “I said I snack when I’m working.”

“You have been working continuously.”

“That sounds like dedication.”

Eli looked at the empty refrigeration shelf. “We need supplies.”

The obvious choice was the commercial hub directly along their route.

It was also expensive.

Eli spent several minutes comparing prices before rejecting it on principle. “There’s an agricultural colony here.”

Stent shifted the navigation display.

The colony occupied one of the temperate moons of a gas giant slightly off their course. Small population. Mostly farming cooperatives. Limited industrial activity.

Nemi leaned between the cockpit seats. “How far out?”

“Four hours,” Eli said.

“Total?”

“Approximately seven including the return to the main corridor.”

“That’s not bad.”

Dara stood farther back, reading the colony summary.

“What do they grow?”

“Apparently everything we’ve been overpaying for.”

Stent expanded the trade data. “Fresh vegetables, grains, orchard produce, preserved dairy substitutes, meat farms. Local fuel is also marginally cheaper.”

Eli looked satisfied. “There. Civilization.”

“It has a population of fourteen thousand.”

“Civilization is relative.”

Dara considered the figures. “We have no deadline tight enough to make seven hours significant.” Eli looked at her. She noticed. “What?”

“Nothing.”

“You keep saying that.”

“I keep meaning it.”

Her expression suggested she did not believe him.

Which, Eli thought, was exactly the sort of expression an intelligence officer sent to assess them would make.

Stent entered the course correction.

The colony called itself Peloran Reach.

Most of it was flat.

From orbit, long agricultural bands crossed the inhabited region in geometric strips of green, yellow and dark soil, interrupted by clusters of low buildings and storage silos.

The settlement surrounding the landing field was barely large enough to deserve the name town.

Eli loved it immediately. There were no military towers. No customs station. No patrol craft.

Just an automated landing beacon, a fuel depot, a maintenance shed and a broad produce market built beside the cooperative warehouses.

The air outside smelled of damp earth.

Eli stopped halfway down the ramp and breathed in. “That smells better than recycled air.”

Nemi came up behind him. “You say that like it’s a luxury.”

“After this long aboard ship? It is.”

Stent stepped past them. “We should purchase only what we can store properly.”

Eli looked at him. “I know.”

“You looked enthusiastic.”

“I’m allowed to be enthusiastic about fresh food.”

The market was not large, but after weeks of station food and imported produce it seemed extravagant.

Actual vegetables still carrying traces of soil. Fruit that had not spent a month in cold storage. Fresh herbs. Grains sold in bulk.

Several local cheeses or cheese-equivalents whose exact biological origins Eli decided not to investigate too closely.

Nemi disappeared toward a bakery stall within three minutes.

Dara remained with Eli and Stent. Of course she did.

Eli bought root vegetables, greens, onions, two kinds of squash, fresh legumes and enough orchard fruit to fill most of the refrigeration drawer.

Stent added several items without consulting him.

Eli inspected the basket.

“Those are sweet.”

“Yes.”

“You selected all the sweetest fruit here.”

“No.”

Eli picked up one small golden fruit.

“What’s this?”

“I do not know.”

“You bought it.”

“The vendor offered a sample.”

“And?”

“It was good.”

Eli smiled. Stent ignored him.

They bought six.

The transport job found them rather than the other way around.

It happened while Eli was arranging delivery of their purchases to the landing field.

The cooperative clerk looked at the Faded Glory’s registration on her terminal, then at Eli.

“You’re heading back toward the main trade hub?”

“Eventually.”

“Today?”

“Yes.”

She glanced toward the warehouse.

“We’ve got a shipment going there. Our regular carrier lost a repulsor unit this morning.”

Eli knew immediately where this was going.

“How much?”

She gave him a figure. It was not enormous. It was, however, enough to pay for most of the provisions they had just bought.

“What are we carrying?”

“Vegetables.”

Eli looked at the mountain of produce behind her. “Specificity would help.”

“Eight pallet crates. Mostly greens, tubers, squash and packed orchard produce. Nothing refrigerated.”

Stent had appeared beside him. “Mass?”

The clerk supplied it.

Stent calculated silently. “We have capacity. We could even get some more. It is a short haul.”

Eli looked at him. “You didn’t even pretend to consider saying no.”

“The cargo is travelling to our destination.”

“That is exactly how this keeps happening.”

The clerk looked between them. “Is that a yes?”

Eli sighed. “Yes.”

Loading took longer than expected because the cooperative’s cargo loader failed halfway through the second pallet.

The clerk swore at it. A mechanic arrived. The mechanic swore at it more professionally.

Eventually Eli looked toward the remaining crates.

“We can move them manually.”

Dara raised an eyebrow. “All of them?”

“With the grav-assist trolley.”

Stent had already retrieved it from the ship.

Nemi returned from the market carrying a paper packet of something fried and immediately realized everyone else was working. “Oh.”

Eli looked at the packet. Then at her.

She folded the top closed. “I can help.”

“Excellent.”

“I was going to share these.”

“You can share them after the vegetables.”

She handed the packet to Tee. Tee accepted custody with a cheerful whistle.

“Traitor,” Nemi muttered.

They worked in pairs.

Stent and Dara handled the heavier crates at the warehouse end while Eli and Nemi guided the trolley up the Faded Glory’s ramp and positioned each load inside the hold.

Tee supervised with the authority of someone who lifted nothing.

Nemi noticed. “You could help.”

Tee beeped.

“You have arms.”

Another beep.

“I’m sure you can move equipment heavier than me.”

Tee turned his dome away.

Eli secured the pallet restraint. “He considers cargo loading beneath him.”

Tee gave an indignant tone.

“Apparently I’m misrepresenting his position.”

By the sixth crate, Dara had removed her jacket and rolled her sleeves above the elbows.

Eli found this unexpectedly reassuring. Intelligence officers, apparently, sweated.

By the eighth, everyone was tired enough that suspicion had temporarily become less interesting than water.

The final cargo arrangement left a central aisle through the hold and enough clearance around the engineering access points to satisfy Stent.

The cooperative clerk signed the manifest. “Delivery window is generous. Tomorrow is fine.”

“We’ll have it there tonight,” Eli said.

She shrugged. “Even better.”

They lifted off forty minutes later with fresh provisions in refrigeration, agricultural freight in the cargo hold and enough local bread aboard that even Eli had to admit Nemi’s bakery diversion had been worthwhile.

Dinner was late.

Eli used the last of the older fresh vegetables first. The new produce could wait.

Nemi had volunteered to chop things until Eli watched her technique for approximately twenty seconds and reassigned her to setting the table.

Dara offered to help. Eli gave her the knife.

Nemi looked offended. “You trust her with it?”

“She cuts vegetables like a person who wants all her fingers tomorrow.”

“I have all my fingers.”

“For now.”

Stent entered halfway through preparation after completing the post-jump systems check. He glanced toward the table. “Where is Tee?”

Nobody answered immediately.

Eli looked around.

The droid had not been in the galley since they began cooking.

“Nemi?”

She shook her head. “I haven’t seen him since we jumped.”

Dara looked toward the corridor. “Engineering?”

“Probably.”

Eli returned to the pan.

Tee frequently disappeared for an hour or more when something aboard offended his sense of mechanical order.

Then a muffled series of beeps came from the cargo hold.

Nemi paused. “That sounded angry.”

Another sequence followed. Louder.

Eli lowered the heat. “That sounded very angry.”

Stent was already moving.

They heard Tee again before they reached the hold. Not alarmed. Irritated. Deeply, personally irritated.

The cargo hatch opened.

Tee stood halfway down the central aisle between the vegetable pallets, dome aimed at the lowest crate on the port side.

He beeped sharply.

Eli looked at the crate. Then at Tee.

“What?”

Tee extended one manipulator and pointed. Nothing happened.

Nemi peered around Eli’s shoulder. “Did something break?”

Tee produced an offended burst.

“No,” Eli said slowly. “Apparently something has committed a crime.”

Stent moved closer to the crate.

The top contained leafy vegetables packed loosely into ventilated trays.

One corner had been disturbed.

Several leaves lay on the floor.

Dara crouched. “We have a passenger.”

Nemi looked toward the crew corridor. “We already have passengers.”

“A different kind.”

Something moved inside the crate.

Fast.

Nemi made a small startled sound and stepped back.

Tee beeped triumphantly.

Eli leaned sideways, trying to see between the vegetables.

Two dark eyes appeared briefly through the leaves.

Then vanished.

“What was that?”

Stent reached carefully toward the disturbed corner.

A blur of brown shot out between his hands. The creature hit the deck, skidded, recovered and disappeared beneath the next pallet.

Nemi yelped.

Tee spun in place and charged after it.

For several seconds the cargo hold filled with beeping, scraping claws and the noise of three people colliding with one another as they tried not to step on an animal they could barely see.

Nemi had already retreated to the doorway, where she was contributing nothing except commentary and alarmed noises whenever the creature changed direction.

“Stop moving!” Eli said.

“I’m not moving!” Nemi protested from the cargo-bay doorway, where she had retreated well clear of the confusion.

“That was not directed at you.”

“Oh. Good.”

Something brown shot between Eli and Stent. They both moved at once, nearly collided, and Dara had to flatten herself against a cargo brace to avoid joining them.

The creature vanished beneath another pallet.

For one second there was silence.

Then Dara started laughing. Actually laughing.

Nemi, still safely planted in the doorway, pointed into the hold. “See? This is why I moved.”

Eli had not known she could do that.

Stent crouched beside the second pallet and looked underneath.

“What is it?” Eli asked.

“Small.”

“I had established that.”

“Long-bodied. Short limbs. Fur.”

“Excellent taxonomy.”

A narrow brown head appeared at the far side of the pallet. The creature had a pointed muzzle, rounded ears and a body built like a tube with legs. Its whiskers twitched.

Nemi stared.

“Oh.”

The animal stared back.

“It’s adorable.”

Tee emitted a furious electronic objection.

The little creature vanished again.

Nemi looked at the droid. “What did it do to you?”

Tee pointed furiously toward the pallets.

Eli frowned. “It disturbed the cargo?”

Tee beeped emphatically.

“The cargo is fine.”

Another burst of indignant tones.

Eli sighed. “Fine. It is disturbing your cargo.”

Tee gave a sharp, satisfied chirp.

Nemi looked from the droid to the pallet beneath which the creature had vanished.

“So this is about unauthorized movement.”

Tee beeped again.

“Right,” Eli said. “Apparently we have violated loading-bay protocol.”

Dara straightened.

“How long has it been in here?”

“Probably since loading,” Eli said. “It must have been inside one of the field crates.”

Stent inspected the crate the creature had emerged from.

“The produce is undamaged.”

Nemi smiled from the doorway. “So Tee’s furious over nothing.”

Tee emitted a sharp burst of protest.

“Not nothing,” Eli corrected. “It is apparently interfering with cargo discipline.”

Dara crouched slightly, trying to see beneath the pallet. “Probably a field predator. Small enough to climb into a crate before loading and stay hidden through the whole trip.”

“That narrows it down to every carnivorous nuisance on an agricultural colony,” Eli said.

Something rustled beneath the pallet.

Everyone turned.

The little head appeared again at the far side of the pallet.

For perhaps two seconds, the creature remained perfectly still. Dark eyes, pointed muzzle, rounded ears. Its whiskers moved rapidly as it assessed the collection of much larger animals staring back at it.

Nemi put one hand over her heart. “Oh, no.”

Eli looked at her. “What?”

“It’s adorable.”

“No.”

“I didn’t say anything.”

“You were about to.”

Tee rolled forward. The creature froze. Tee beeped. The creature hissed. Tee beeped louder. The creature arched its back and produced a surprisingly vicious little snarl before vanishing beneath the pallet again. Tee immediately started after it.

“Stop.” Stent’s voice cut across the cargo hold.

Tee stopped.

So did everyone else.

Stent crouched and looked beneath the pallet for several seconds, then straightened. “We are not going to catch it with our hands.”

Nemi, still safely stationed in the doorway, nodded enthusiastically. “Excellent. I support that conclusion.”

“We are too large,” Stent continued. “There are too many places for it to hide, and pursuing it will only drive it farther into the cargo.”

Eli looked around at the maze of pallets, restraints and access spaces. “So what do you suggest?”

“A trap.”

Of course.

Stent pointed toward the hatch. “Everyone out.”

Tee gave an indignant beep.

“You too.”

The droid protested.

“The cargo is secured.”

Another burst of electronic outrage.

“The animal is not damaging it.”

Tee beeped again.

Eli translated reluctantly. “Apparently that isn’t the point. It is still disturbing the cargo.”

Stent regarded the droid. “We will remove it.”

That seemed to satisfy Tee enough to retreat toward the doorway.

Dara stepped out after him, still visibly amused.

Nemi moved aside to let them pass. “And what happens when we catch it?”

“We remove it from the ship,” Eli said.

Nemi looked disappointed.

“We are not keeping a wild predator we found inside a vegetable crate.”

“I still didn’t say anything.”

“You keep looking like you’re going to.”

Stent closed the cargo-bay hatch before the discussion could develop further.

Eli returned to dinner.

The vegetables had survived his absence. Barely.

He lowered the heat, stirred the pan and checked the protein while Dara resumed chopping where she had left off. Nemi reclaimed her place at the table, this time with strict instructions not to touch anything Eli might need in the next ten minutes.

Stent disappeared into the maintenance lockers.

He returned carrying a collection of components that, to Eli, did not initially resemble anything capable of catching an animal.

A small cargo sensor. Two lengths of light alloy frame. A spring hinge. A section of fine maintenance mesh. Several fasteners. And one shallow storage container.

He installed himself at the auxiliary work table at the far end of the galley and began assembling them.

Nemi watched for approximately thirty seconds. “What are you building?”

“A trap.”

“I gathered that.”

Stent adjusted the hinge.

“How does it work?”

“The animal enters. The sensor detects its mass. The door closes.”

“Will it hurt it?”

“No.”

Nemi visibly relaxed.

Eli glanced over his shoulder. “You realize you’ve just guaranteed she’s going to become emotionally invested in this.”

Dara gave a quiet laugh. “She already is.”

Nemi looked offended. “I am concerned about humane pest removal.”

“You called it adorable.”

“Those things are not mutually exclusive.”

Stent continued working.

The trap gradually acquired a recognizable shape: a narrow mesh-sided enclosure, open at one end, large enough for the animal to enter comfortably but too small for it to gain much momentum once inside. The improvised door sat above the opening, held in place by the repurposed latch.

Eli returned his attention to the stove.

There were some advantages to travelling with someone who regarded unexpected wildlife as merely another mechanical problem.

They ate with the unfinished trap sitting on the auxiliary table.

For once, conversation stayed mostly away from Imperial checkpoints, Rebel logistics and the collapsing political structure of the galaxy.

Nemi was still thinking about the animal. “What do you think it eats?”

“Meat,” Dara said.

“You don’t know that.”

“I saw the teeth.”

“So did I,” Eli said. “Definitely not designed for salad.”

Nemi considered that while eating her own vegetables. “Maybe insects.”

“Possibly,” Dara said. “Or small burrowing animals. Agricultural colonies usually have plenty of both.”

Stent took another bite and looked toward the trap. “A small predator would explain why it entered the produce crate. It may have been hunting something.”

Tee, parked beside the table, made a low, suspicious sound.

Eli looked down at him. “No, that does not mean there is another animal in the cargo hold.”

Tee beeped.

“It also doesn’t mean there isn’t,” Nemi said.

Eli pointed his fork at her. “Do not encourage him.”

Dara leaned back slightly. “You have an unusually opinionated droid.”

“He’s had years of practice.”

Tee made a pleased sound.

Nemi looked between Eli and Stent. “Has he always been like this?”

“No,” Eli said.

“Yes,” Stent said at exactly the same time.

They looked at each other.

Dara smiled.

Nemi grinned. “That answered nothing.”

“It answered enough,” Eli said.

Dinner continued in the kind of conversation they had rarely managed since the passengers came aboard: complaints about station food, Nemi’s assessment of the Faded Glory’s painfully outdated entertainment library, Dara claiming that one particular Corellian spy serial had ruined an entire generation’s understanding of intelligence work.

That caught Eli’s attention. “You’ve seen it.”

“I said it was inaccurate. That requires evidence.”

“How much evidence?”

Dara took a drink. “Enough.”

Nemi laughed. “She’s seen all six seasons.”

Dara turned toward her. “You were not required to disclose that.”

Eli smiled into his plate.

For perhaps half an hour, Dara Venn stopped feeling quite so much like an intelligence officer who might be compiling a report on them.

Not entirely.

But enough.

When they had finished eating, Stent tested the trap twice.

The first time the door dropped too slowly. He adjusted the tension. The second time it snapped shut immediately.

Nemi leaned closer. “That seems violent.”

“It is not.”

“It sounds violent.”

“The animal will not be beneath the door.”

“How do you know?”

“Because the sensor is positioned here.”

He pointed inside the enclosure.

Nemi studied the arrangement. “Oh.”

Stent looked at her. “Acceptable?”

She nodded solemnly. “Acceptable.”

Eli opened the refrigeration unit to put away the leftovers.

Stent appeared beside him. “I need bait.”

Eli glanced at the trap.

Then at the remaining ingredients. “How much?”

“A small amount.”

Eli handed him a strip of fresh meat that had not gone into dinner.

Stent cut off a piece no larger than the end of his thumb.

Nemi immediately appeared beside them. “Can I come?”

“No,” Stent said.

Her face fell.

“The animal has already demonstrated defensive behavior. Additional people will make it less likely to approach the trap.”

“That makes sense.”

“You may inspect it after capture.”

Nemi brightened again.

Eli watched this exchange. “You’ve accidentally promised her visitation rights.”

“I promised nothing of the kind.”

Stent placed the meat at the far end of the enclosure.

Tee rolled closer.

Stent looked down at him. “You are also staying here.”

Tee emitted an outraged noise.

“You are the most likely individual aboard to prevent the animal from approaching.”

Another protest.

“You chased it through the cargo hold.”

Tee beeped sharply.

“Yes. That is precisely my point.”

Eli folded his arms.

“I’m siding with Stent.”

Tee rotated his dome toward him in obvious betrayal.

“Sorry.”

Stent lifted the trap. “I will place it near the pallet where we first saw the animal. The cargo bay remains closed until we reach the hub.”

“And if we catch it?” Dara asked.

“We deal with it when we arrive.”

Nemi frowned. “You’re not leaving it trapped for four hours.”

“No.” Stent adjusted his grip on the enclosure. “The sensor, or Tee, will notify us if the door closes. I will check it immediately.”

That appeared to satisfy her.

Eli glanced toward the chrono. “Assuming our passenger cooperates, we may be able to release it somewhere sensible once we dock.”

“Somewhere sensible,” Nemi repeated.

“Somewhere that is not my cargo hold.”

“That’s less sentimental.”

“It’s also the objective.”

He carried the trap into the corridor.

Eli watched him go.

Nemi looked after him. “He likes the animal.”

Eli laughed. “He wants it out of his cargo bay.”

“Those things are not mutually exclusive.”

Dara made a quiet sound that might have been agreement.

From somewhere down the corridor came the hiss of the cargo-bay hatch opening.

Then Stent’s voice, faint but perfectly audible.

“Tee.”

The droid froze.

“Tee, remain where you are.”

Tee gave one deeply offended beep.

Eli smiled.

Their routines had definitely changed.