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

Chapter 9: Homecoming

Her smile faded, and her face turned white; then, without a word, she turned and ran out of the hold. I took half a step after her, then stopped, shrugged, and went into the dressing room. She'd be going home as soon as we got to Fistfight City anyway, and I really didn't need her added to my list of things to worry about. Besides, if there was something nasty going on behind the scenes, I'd be doing her a favour by keeping her out of it.

* * *

My respite from rehearsal didn't last. After supper and late into the night Marcel had me back at it, with no let-up for the rest of the trip. I didn't complain, this time; the altered holoprojector array changed several of the dance sequences drastically, and I had to work hard to polish them to performance level. Qualls wasn't happy about it, either. I heard him yelling backstage when I entered the rehearsal theatre the day before we were scheduled to land in Fistfight City. "... concert is crucial! If this contract with The Dealer falls through, you'll never work again!"

I couldn't hear Marcel's reply, but Qualls's voice suddenly boomed even louder. "Don't try to shift the blame. The company's been cutting expenses. If you couldn't do the job with the budget you were given you should have said so, and we would have found someone who could."

Sensation Singles cutting expenses? First I'd heard of it. Very interesting. I decided not to announce my arrival just yet. I headed down the aisle to the front row, where I could hear them as clearly as if they were performing for my benefit.

"Maybe you should be doing some cutting back of your own," Marcel snapped. "Then you wouldn't need your little sideline. It seems to be putting you under a great deal of strain."

Qualls quit shouting. Instead, his voice turned low and poisonous. "My 'little sideline' is none of your business. You don't talk about it—not even to me. You know why."

Silence. Then, "Yeah, I know."

"Good. Then you also know that it is in your best interest to ensure that my 'sideline' remains profitable. So, get back to work, Stage Manager. I'm sure the little streetslug will be arriving for rehearsal very shortly, and I don't want to see him."

If he'd come onstage then I would have been caught, but instead, I heard him slam out through the backstage right exit... and then heard Marcel say, in a low voice, "I don't blame you."

I resisted the urge to chase Qualls and strangle him with my bare hands. Streetslug? And I was putting my future in his hands?

And what "sideline?" Yeah, I'm a streetslug, all right, I thought. I know slime when I step in it.

But just what was that slime made of? I wanted to pressure Marcel for an answer, but it sounded like Qualls was standing over him with a pretty big stick. Too dangerous, I decided—at least, too dangerous on the ship. Once we were down in Fistfight City, my orbit, if I didn't like the scan, I could lift...

Oh, yeah? I told myself sarcastically. And then what?

If I lifted before the show, I breached my contract, and Andy Nebula's credit stayed behind. Then what? Back to living hand-to-mouth as a street musician? Scrounging food, hiding and running from flashgangs and meatmen, until one day I didn't hide well enough or run fast enough?

Maybe I'm overprogramming here. Maybe Qualls's little scheme is just a scam—negotiate a bigger deal with The Dealer than he'll tell me about and keep most of it for himself. I might even let him get away with it. The important thing about the Hydran gig is that I'll be playing my music my way.

Holding that thought firmly in mind, I cleared my throat, then marched cheerfully and noisily onto the stage to begin rehearsing.

The next day we made planetfall, timing our landing to roughly synchronize shiptime with local Fistfight City time. I stood on the duracrete, watching the cranes lift the modules from the hold, my dressing room among them, breathing chilly air full of the sharp tang of rocket exhaust and ozone, looking up at the cold, austere mountains beyond the city... and wishing I was somewhere else. Anywhere else.