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

Chapter 11: A Little Green Wafer

"Yeah," I said, hoping Qualls couldn't hear my heart pounding. "I thought I'd hit the town and sleep somewhere besides this dressing room for a change. Don't worry, I'll be on board long before lift time tomorrow."

"You should have checked with me, first. I told you I'd be by shortly."

"Yeah, well, I didn't want to wait all night."

"I'm afraid you'll have to change your plans. We've decided to lift tonight, instead. The transports are already on their way."

"Oh, come on, Qualls, it's my first time on the old home planet since my Single broke. Can't we spare a day or two?"

"I'm afraid not. Our schedule to Hydra is very tight." Qualls closed the door behind him. "I've come to finalize the plans."

I slowly set my bag down on the floor and the stringsynth beside it. The way Qualls moved, keeping himself between me and the door, holding himself ready to grab me if I tried to dodge past him—to have any chance to escape, I had to make him think I didn't want to. "Great," I said. "Seems to me I've been kept in the dark long enough."

"Good. Sit down."

I complied, sitting on the corner of the bed.

Qualls remained standing. "The Dealer will join us momentarily."

"Orbital," I said, but my stomach fluttered. Getting past Qualls was one thing. Getting past The Dealer...

Qualls glanced at my flashing terminal. "Looks like you still have one fan left, anyway. Or maybe it's some local friend. And you were going to leave without reading it? What was your hurry?"

"I just didn't notice it. I'll read it now." I got up and went to the terminal. Qualls didn't move from his spot by the door. Taking no chances, I thought. I turned my back on him and pressed "Retrieve Message."

It appeared only as scrolling words—no video and no audio. Unusual for fan mail; the girls usually wanted to be sure I got a look at their faces. Among other things. "Concert enjoyed greatly, gladeye," it read. "Orbital! But liked music from old days better. Urgent I meet with you before you leave planet. At place we were roomies. I am there tonight. Your gladeye octoman, Rain."

I might have guessed—Rain, again. And this time, there was no doubt he really was on the planet, since he wanted to meet at Fat Sloan's. Maybe that flash of orange I'd seen at the spaceport really had been him. But what was he doing here—and why did he want to meet at Sloan's? I could almost believe our paths crossing by accident in the Pleasure Planets, but on Murdoch IV, in this sludgepool of a city? Coincidence could only explain so much.

I read the message again. It almost sounded like a warning... but, like the warning Marcel had given me, too late.

Way too late. The door opened, and I blanked the screen hurriedly and turned as The Dealer skittered in. No knocking, which mean that not only did Qualls have the access code to my dressing room, he'd given it to The Dealer, too. Throw in Rain's message, and my streetsense practically had me by the throat now. Get out, get out, get out, lift, lift, lift...

If only I could. Two more hydras followed The Dealer into the room. I looked at Qualls.

"Business associates," he said smoothly.

I looked back at the two hydras. One stood half a metre taller than the other, with tentacles as big around as my forearm. The smaller one's slender central stalk bent slightly in the middle. Both wore equipment belts. The big hydra's belt held a black rod with a glowing green light at one end—a weapon of some kind, I was willing to bet. The smaller hydra had a flat black case hanging from his belt, about the size of a bookreader. He chitter-squeaked something at The Dealer, who said to Qualls, "All is prepared. Our ship will lift the moment the merchandise—" a tentacle indicated me "—is aboard."