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

Chapter 14: Fat Sloan Saves the Day

We didn't have much of a head start, and we couldn't hope to outrun them. Still, we ran, crashing into and over pedestrians who swore at us, then saw the Ice Boys coming and scrambled out of the way. Instinctively I headed for my home territory, the dozen or so square blocks I knew best. But I couldn't duck into any of my hidey-holes with the Ice Boys breathing down my neck.

"I—can't—" Meta panted.

"You've got to!" I shouted. Dry Ice needed me in good shape to hand over to Qualls, but he probably had no orders at all about Meta, and if the Ice Boys got hold of her... "Just—a little farther."

I was hoping for a miracle—and I got it. We pounded around a corner and toward Fat Sloan's. For a few seconds we were out of sight of the Ice Boys, but Fat Sloan's would be no refuge—

Except there stood Fat Sloan himself, filling the doorway. "Quick, Kit, in here," he said, and stepped aside.

Any port in a storm, I thought, and ducked through, Meta close behind. The moment we were in the dingy lobby, Sloan moved back into the doorway, effectively blocking it. I pushed Meta down behind the counter and crouched beside her. She dropped my bag on the floor between us.

Just in time. "You see streetslime flowing by here, gladeye?" Dry Ice demanded of Sloan.

"A boy and a girl just passed. Turned left at the corner."

"More thrust, flashmates!" Dry Ice shouted. Footsteps clattered away.

I stayed put, the handle of a floor safe digging into my knee, until Fat Sloan loomed over us. "They're gone."

"Gratitudes, gladeye." I helped Meta up. "Our friend here is labelled Fa—Sloan," I told her.

"My pleasure," said Sloan, holding out one greasy hand.

Meta accepted it gingerly and let go almost at once. "Thank you for hiding us, Mr. Sloan."

"Anything for an old friend like Kit."

"How did you know we were running this way?" I asked him.

"This." He tapped a control pad on the desk and four tiny vidscreens flickered to life, showing the streets outside. On one of them, the Ice Boys fanned out down a garbage-strewn alley. "I like to see trouble before it gets here." He grinned, a frightening sight. "Besides, I've been expecting you. You're late."

"Huh?"

"Your hydra friend told me you would be here last night. He seemed most perturbed when you didn't show up."

Rain! "Is he still here?" Is this a trap?

"No. He left early this morning. " Sloan pulled a keyrod out of a drawer. "Here. The room's free for tonight."

"What if Dry Ice comes back? He might want to search the place."

Sloan pulled something else out of the drawer, something flat black, with a handle and a short barrel: a (highly illegal) slugthrower. "He won't."

I nodded, and took the keychip. "This way, " I said to Meta. I grabbed my bag, and we headed for the stairs.

"Wait!" Sloan called after us. When I turned back, he tossed four mealpacs my way. "On the house."

"Thanks, Sloan." I led Meta to the room—the same room I had shared with Rain. I wondered if Sloan remembered that.

Heaving a shaking sigh, Meta sat on the bed and then flopped onto her back. She put her forearm over her eyes. "I don't like your world. And I don't like your friends."