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

Chapter 6: Meta Moves In

She smiled tentatively. "Told you I'd see you again!" she said over the rising moan of the engines.

I stared at her. This couldn't be happening. For a moment I didn't say anything, because the first words that came to mind were ones pretty little Meta had probably never heard before. I finally settled on, "What do you think you're doing?"

"I've never been in a spaceship before," Meta said, still lying on her back, staring up at me. "I thought it would be fun to see if I could sneak onto yours before you left, and you told me the dressing room was going to be moved on board, so I just slipped back in here after you left it backstage but before they sealed it and I slid under the bed but then I got scared when you came in and decided to try to sneak out before you woke up but I hit the table and the glass broke and—you're not mad, are you?"

I shook my head. You almost had to admire her. Almost. "Look, Meta, do you hear that sound?"

"Yes, and I was wondering—"

"That's the sound of our lift engines. In—oh, I'd say about thirty seconds—we're going to take off. Five minutes after that, we'll be in outer space."

Her face turned white. "What?" She grabbed the edge of the bedframe, scooted out past the broken glass, scrambled up, and ran for the door. "I've got to get out of here—"

She was quick, but I was quicker. I rolled off the bed and grabbed her arm before she could touch the lockplate. "It's too late!" The engines' pitch rose a minor third. "We've lifted."

The moment I touched her, she froze; and then she squealed, a full three octaves higher than the engines—in fact, she sounded a bit like Rain or the Dealer telling me their names. "Andy Nebula touched me!"

I let go of her as though she were red hot. "Will you stop the Andy Nebula biowaste? I told you, when I'm not on stage, I'm not Andy Nebula. I'm just Kit."

She didn't seem to hear me. She was positively vibrating. "I can't believe it! I got into Andy Nebula's dressing room, I talked to him, he touched me, I'm going into space aboard his—ooh, I can't wait to tell Bekka and Roo and—"

"You're going to have to," I said, more harshly than I intended, but I had to get through to her somehow. "You won't be seeing them any time soon."

"What?" That penetrated, all right. "But once you tell the crew I'm on board, won't they—"

"Turn around and land?" I shook my head. "Meta, do you have any idea how much it costs to operate a spaceship?" Actually, I didn't, either, but I knew it was a lot, even by Sensation Single standards. "Landing and taking off are the most expensive." That much I knew. The engines' pitch suddenly slid down a perfect fourth. "Hear that? We're boosting for orbit. There's no way this ship is going back now. You're stuck here until we get to our next stop and Qualls can put you on a commercial flight home."

Meta had gone pale again. "How long?"

"A week."

"A week?" She gaped at me, then suddenly lunged at the door again, this time getting it open before I grabbed her. "Let go!" she said, struggling in my grasp. "I have to tell my parents—"

"We will, we will," I said soothingly. "But don't you think it would make more sense for me to take you where you have to go to do that than for you to run aimlessly around the ship?"

She subsided, wiping her eyes, and suddenly laughed a little. "I'm sorry. I'm all right now."

"You're sure?"

"I'm sure." She bent her head back and batted her eyes at me. "But you don't have to let go of me if you don't want to... "

I let go of her so fast she half-fell against the bulkhead. "Let's take you to face the music."