From the Street to the Stars (Andy Nebula: Interstellar Rock Star, Book 1)

Chapter 18: The Time Pocket

Meta turned white and slid down beside me. "It can't be!"

"I saw him—right out there!" I jerked my thumb over my shoulder.

"Are you sure?"

"I'd recognize him anywhere."

"But how can this be his ship? Nobody owns his own ship!"

That stopped me, because it was true: no individual was that wealthy. Only large corporations or governments could afford to run ships. And if The Dealer had had his own ship, why would he have been a passenger on the The Bullet—and why was The Bullet supposed to have taken me to Hydra?

"You're right," I said. "This must be a Hydran passenger liner! Without me, Qualls's contract with The Dealer fell through, so Qualls wouldn't have any reason to go to Hydra—but The Dealer still had to get home. So he had to buy a ticket just like anyone else." Which meant all we had to do was avoid The Dealer and find a crewhydra.

But if this was a passenger ship, why was The Dealer in the cargo section? The answer seemed obvious—he had cargo down here he wanted to keep an eye on. I looked nervously at the caged beasts surrounding us, but if he'd been headed to our module when I saw him, he would have already found us. So he must have gone somewhere else.

With the help of the shelving, I got to my feet, then reached out a hand to pull Meta to hers. "Come on. Let's take another look."

"If you say so... " she said dubiously.

I opened the door, led her out into the corridor again, crept up to the T-intersection, and very cautiously looked both ways—no sign of The Dealer. I rounded the corner and started toward the place where I had seen him. Meta grabbed my arm to stop me. "Shouldn't we go the other way?" she whispered.

"No," I whispered back. "I want to see what his cargo is."

"But what if he's still there... "

"We'll be careful."

She sighed and followed me down to the spot where The Dealer had stood. He'd been outside the doorway to another module, identical to the entrance to ours, right down to the green indicators on the life-support control panel.

What could The Dealer be shipping that required life support?

Suddenly, I thought I knew. I swore and reached for the keypad.

Meta grabbed my wrist. "What are you doing?"

"Opening this thing up," I snarled.

"But why—"

"Life-support module. There's something alive in there." I met her eyes. "Besides flash, what does The Dealer deal in?"

Meta's hand fell away. "No!"

"I hope I'm wrong. Maybe he's got a cat. But we've got to be sure—dammit!" Of course, the OPEN button didn't work—the module was locked. I pointed to a black slot on the top of the keypad. "We need either an access code or a keychip—neither of which we have." I glared at the controls. "There's got to be a way!"

"Well, I've got a keychip," Meta said, "but since it's for our house back on Carstair's Folly, I doubt—"

A wild idea struck me. "Let me have it!"

Looking at me like I'd lost my mind, Meta pulled a neck-chain from under her blouse. Hanging from it was a little golden rectangle with flat-black contact patches on one end. Meta touched it, and it dropped off into her hand. She handed it to me. I held it up next to the slot on top of the keypad. "Standard technology. Come on!"