My stomach growled, and Ratbag whined in sympathy. Outside the hatch we had finally collapsed beside, the ship was silent. No passengers walking the corridors. No armoured security guys either.

And absolutely no Anderson Universal crew.

“I know, baby,” I murmured, stroking his silky fur. “But I’m not going back to our quarters.”

Ratbag licked my hand as if he understood my reasoning.

I’d been trying on and off to talk to Aquila. But he never replied. Occasionally, I’d hear orders he’d give my father’s men over the comms. And once he’d requested all personnel to report to their stations.

But no one walked past our hiding hole on Deck G.

I stared out of the hatch at the restaurants and stalls in the Habitat Two central hub. Mandy’s stall was all buttoned up, but some of the others were still open. Not that there was anyone here to steal anything. Except, of course, me.

I checked my pocket. I had some money in there. I wouldn’t take anything I couldn’t pay for. But plucking up the courage to expose myself to Aquila’s cameras was taking much longer to find than a few dollars.

The lights in the hub started to dim. Jeez, I’d been in here all day then.

“OK, Ratbag,” I said. “We’re going to wait a little longer. Just until it’s all nice and dark out there.”

Not that the ship ever got totally dark outside of quarters. But the hub lighting would resemble evening on a city street; there’d be shadows. Hopefully, there’d be enough.

What we were going to do once we’d purchased some food was another thing. We couldn’t stay in here. Ratbag had been gun-shy about peeing on the gel floor of the tunnel I’d chosen for our toilet stop. A tunnel I hoped I’d never have to go through again. But once I’d done my business and the gel floor of the tunnel had simply wicked the moisture away, Ratbag found his own courage and peed like a trooper.

I wasn’t looking forward to number twos.

But I also knew, staying in the tunnels was not the safest option either. At one junction, I’d seen an armoured guard flash a light through the tunnel hatch, trying to see what was inside. We’d backtracked as quickly and quietly as we could then. Thankfully, his rifle’s light hadn’t penetrated far enough into the gloom to see us.

I knew, though, that my father had them searching.

Which begged the question, why hadn’t Aquila ratted me out yet?

I glanced out the hatch again. Darkness, or what represented darkness onboard ship, had descended. And the central hub was finally painted in shadows.

“All right, boy,” I said. “You stay here. Mummy’s going to get us some dinner.”

My lips were dry. My throat parched. I knew I was dehydrated. I dreaded to think what Ratbag felt like. He whimpered slightly when I placed him behind me and gave him the sign to stay put. But he did what he was told to do and sat quietly.

I looked at the hatch again. I hadn’t tried to get out of one of the conduit tunnels before now. And getting into them in the first place had been kind of freaky. So, I stared at the hatch for quite a while.

Then with screwdriver in hand, I reached forward and watched as the gel wall disintegrated, and a ladder appeared.

This hatch was higher off the ground. I’d thought it was less likely to be searched by my father’s men. But I hadn’t considered getting down from here. Or getting back up afterwards.

“Huh,” I whispered, staring at the ladder. “That's handy.”

I spun my body around and exited the tunnel backwards, glancing over my shoulder from time to time. But nothing moved in the shadows, and I couldn’t hear the heavy steps of the guards. I made it to the bottom, sweating, heart racing, but alive.

I glanced back up at the hatch opening. It hadn’t closed. And I hadn’t even tried to wave my screwdriver at it; it was back in my pocket. I shook my head and took a step away.

The hatch and ladder disappeared back into the gel wall.

“Ratbag!” I whispered. A small yip responded from deeper in the tunnel. I stepped back up to the wall, and the ladder and opening reappeared.

I stepped away again. They vanished.

Step close. Reappeared.

Step back. Vanished.

“Huh,” I said again and then spun on my heel and slipped into the shadows.

I crept along the outer edge of the central hub until I came to the first restaurant. It wasn’t my favourite but damned if I was going to be fussy about it. It was open, and it still had food out, so that was enough. I slipped inside and ran across to the counter.

The food there had already spoiled. I looked at the door to the kitchen. Then glanced over my shoulder again. The hub looked quiet. But going further into the restaurant would make it harder to hear if someone was coming. I bit my lip and stared down at the food again.

Getting food poisoning right now would suck.

I slipped over the counter and pushed through to the kitchen.

It was dark, and I didn’t have a torch, so I had to feel my way around. I didn’t want to switch a light on, but when I found the refrigerator and opened the door, the light came on automatically inside. I quickly pulled it to, but not shut, behind me, and scanned the contents.

Sixty seconds later I’d grabbed ham, cheese, apples, grapes and two bottles of water. I slipped out of the fridge and placed my stash on the preparation bench. Then went to close the fridge door behind me. Before it fully shut, I spotted a filleting knife off to the side. It was long and sharp and could do some serious damage.

I glanced around the kitchen again, using the thin strip of light from the fridge to guide me, and spotted an apron. Swiping it up, I wrapped the knife inside and added the food and water. Buns, which would have been fresh this morning and were probably rock hard now, sat in a container ready for a table that had never been served. I shoved them and the container inside the apron and then bundled it all up.

The fridge door shut again, I crept through the darkness to the front of the restaurant. I strained to hear any noise, but none sounded out. As I passed the front counter, I dipped a hand into my pocket and withdrew a fifty. The knife alone was worth that. I slipped it under a menu and crept out the front door, keeping to the shadows.

Nothing moved. No sounds were made. I could hear the constant hum of the air filtration systems and the vibration of the main boost thrust through the gel floor at my feet. We were underway but to where? We hadn’t jumped. We were still in the gas giant system. So where would we go and why?

I shook my head and kept creeping through the shadows. By now, Aquila should have spotted me and told my father. But as the ladder appeared beneath the once again open access way to the tunnel, still no armoured guard had found me.

I clambered up the ladder and crawled inside. Then turned and watched as the hatch reformed behind me. I let out a breath of air and swiped at my stinging eyes. Crying, even tears of relief, was not an option.

I turned ‘round and softly called out to Ratbag.

He didn’t reply.

“Ratbag?” I couldn’t see him. My heart leapt into my throat. The hatch had closed behind me. And even if it hadn’t, he couldn’t have jumped down or used the ladder. I shifted my purchases around, slipping the knife through the belt in my trousers and making a sling out of the apron, so the food and water would leave my hands free.

And then I started down the tunnel after my dog. There was nowhere for him to go; except through a countless number of tunnels on this deck, I thought bitterly.

“Ratbag!” I called a little louder, the deeper into the deck I got.

I’d tan his hide when I got his furry little butt in my hands again.

I rounded a corner, and there he was, staring at a green glow on the gel walls all around him.

“What have you found, you little ratbag?” I hissed. We hadn’t been this far back in the tunnels yet. I’d been too keen to see what was happening out in the hub. Fat lot of good it did me.

I came to rest beside him and peered up the tunnel directly over our heads. There was a ladder attached to the wall to climb. The tunnel went down a deck too, but there was no green glow there. The glow was above our heads and went on for what seemed miles.

“Curiouser and curiouser,” I said.

Ratbag yipped in reply.

“Green means good, right?” I whispered, uncertainly.

Ratbag didn’t have a clever reply for that one. So, I picked him up and shoved him in with the food. I’d worry about hygiene later; I had a puzzle to solve.

And then I started up the ladder.

I could hear Ratbag eating the ham as I put one hand in front of the other, making steady but slow progress. At least one of us was happy.

I gripped the next rung with determination and kept climbing.