Kaspar's Box tk-3

by Jack L. Chalker

  The wall area between the two food service ports flickered and came to life, and there was a realistic three-dimensional view of the new solar system they’d just entered, looking inward. The sun was a bright yellow-white but too far to require any optical filters or adjustments, and towards it they could see several planets, mostly gas types. It looked quite normal, just the kind of solar system that produced terraformable worlds which were used for colonies.

  One of the girls popped her head out the hatch and looked around. She was wearing a white pullover and had her long hair wrapped in a towel, turban-style. She saw the display and said, “Oh, wow! Neat! Which one is ours?”

  “I don’t think it’s quite in view yet,” Murphy replied. “It’ll be comin’ in to sight on the right-hand side in a few minutes, maybe less. Don’t look too hard, though. Compared to even those planets ye can see there, it’ll look like nothin’ much more’n a dot at this range.”

  “Shuttle THP stroke two four Navy, you have flight path two three niner,” said a reedy male voice over the intercom. “You are cleared to proceed in system. Coordinates coming your way. Acknowledge receipt.”

  “Received, Outer System Control,” Chung responded. “Am on the beam. Do you wish control?”

  “Negative. Passing directives to your navigational computer. Estimated inbound ninety-two minutes standard. Recommend force field be maintained at this speed. Orbital Control will take you at insertion point.”

  “Who’s that?” Mary Margaret’s voice came to them. She came in, dressed pretty much like the other one who’d first looked in.

  “That’s Barnum’s World,” Murphy told her. “Or, rather, it’s the controller computers bringin’ us in. This is one time when we’re better off aboard here than on our old ship. For one thing, on the old tub we wouldn’t be here yet, maybe not fer another week or so. And, second, we could never come in at this speed and we’d be all strapped in.”

  “So we’ll be landing in an hour and a half?” she asked.

  “No, longer than that, but it won’t be comfortable then, so you’ll have to be up here and strapped in. They’ll bring us into orbit around the planet, scan us, ask us who we are and what we’re doin’ here and all that, and if they like the answers they’ll let us land.”

  “Who needs them?” she responded. “Why don’t we just, like, land?”

  “Well, we could try’n do that,” Captain Murphy admitted. “But then they’d just atomize us and we’d be all dead and gone without a trace. No, you do it their way when you come in like this. Don’t worry. This is where you wanted to be.”

  McBride nodded, looking suddenly a bit bewildered, almost like a child who suddenly wasn’t sure if this really was where Mamma said to head for if lost.

  “Yeah, that’s right,” she said, more to herself than to them. “This is where we all want to be. Only, like, I wish I knew why…”

  * * *

  Customs and Immigration at Barnum’s World was not initially pleased to hear that the primary purpose for their visit was to drop off unwelcome guests, but the navy still had considerable clout in the older colonial sectors in particular because of its firepower and its ability to set its own protection rates.

  “Why isn’t Captain Murphy with his ship and cargo as scheduled?” the controller wanted to know.

  “We have confiscated his ship for transporting contraband and for longstanding refusal to pay his tax bill,” Chung answered.

  “Yes, well, put him on. We need to know if he has a way off.”

  “Aye, you miserable dung beetles! Of course I have a way off,” the old captain fumed. “Just check my credit. My letters of credit should be sufficient to get me off your colony for creepy crawlies as soon as I can, and I should have more in there within days, which is why I still have to come here at all!”

  There was a pause. “Very well, then. But the three young Hibernians are also your responsibility, Captain,” Control warned him. “If you bring them in, it is under your own authority and responsibility, and if no one else gives them finances or takes over that responsibility, then you will also leave with them. Is that understood?”

  “Of course I understand, you officious reptile! Hell, I’m stuck with ’em now! I’ve been stuck with ’em for far too long! I might as well be on me own with ’em down there as stuck here as a guest of the damned navy!”

  Again there was a pause. “Very well. Naval shuttle, relinquish control to Port Bainbridge Interstellar Spaceport. We will bring you in to a merchant tug pier. There you will be allowed to discharge your passengers. Do you wish a berth?”

  “Affirmative, Port Bainbridge Control,” Chung responded. “Two naval personnel, ID and genetic information now downloading. We will require a routine service for turnaround and a berth for seven stellar mean days until our ship passes close enough to here to pick us up. Our standard credit will be covered when the Thermopylae comes in system. We will wish to discuss some security matters with the Port Captain’s office, but no other naval business is pending with you at this time.”

  “Understood. Are you permanent pilot or Meld?”

  “Meld.”

  “Then please disengage now. We can not dock you unless we have full navigational controls.”

  “I know the routine. Disengaging and standing down.” Chung felt the sense of regret and loss as she initiated the disengagement procedure. It always was hard to let go; it was like a god suddenly becoming mortal and puny, and the mind fought it even as training did what was required.

  She punched the intercom. “All passengers please strap in. You have three minutes to get ready and show ready on my board. You can not land until it is done. They will not land you. Is this understood?”

  Maslovic and Murphy had no problems, but the girls were fidgety and didn’t like the idea of wearing the basic weblike restraints even though they were hardly uncomfortable. They didn’t like being confined.

  Still, it was necessary. Even though Chung had brought up the gravity slowly over the past few hours to equal that of Barnum’s World and had also begun the slow adjustment to a Barnum’s World atmospheric mixture, it still was bumpy and often uncomfortable coming in for a real planetfall.

  Once free of the Meld, Chung went through a series of breathing exercises to adjust her mind and body back to being merely human again and proceeded with some isometrics to insure that her muscles and reactions remained in good shape.

  Then, even as the spaceport took control of the shuttle’s systems to bring it in, the pilot checked to see that the system was acting as programmed. Then she turned in her chair, still webbed in, and began a series of manual instructions in a code only she currently knew and of which she would be wiped clean once it was fully executed so that even she would have no further knowledge of it nor lingering subconscious memories of her actions that might be picked up by suspicious types below, insured that all was going nicely according to plan, and settled back for the landing.

  The authorities on Barnum’s World would not have approved, but she didn’t care. They were a bunch of biologists and tree huggers; this was military business.

  It took under half an hour to bring them down in their own lane and put the shuttle gently into an enclosed horizontal ground bay. The angle of entry and speed made sightseeing not really possible, but everyone on board did get a glimpse for a fraction of a minute of the city below and the deep green world, distant mountains, and swirling clouds.

  The sensation was similar to a flight simulator used in training; a bit on the queasy side for those not used to it, barely noticeable for those like Chung or Murphy who had done it more times than they could count. There were also some bumps in the lower atmosphere and some really violent sways as the shuttle actually entered the parking bay and settled in on standardized rails.

  There was a sudden cessation of all movement and all external sounds. They were now parked on Barnum’s World.

  The webbing automatically retracted and they were all free to move again
. Chung leaned forward, stretched in place, and then hesitantly got up, holding on to the chair with her left hand. It was odd to be walking again, feeling all those moving parts of the body, and trying to regain a comfort level. Still, training was everything, and within a minute or two she felt much like her old self again. She went over and removed the programming module from the bridge controls and put it in a small compartment inside her flight suit, and then she picked up her small case and walked back towards the lounge.

  The others were already up and about, and the girls were more than ready to go. Still, Mary Margaret at least seemed surprised to see the pilot come aft, as if she’d forgotten that somebody real was actually up there. It wasn’t, after all, like they’d just had a long time in transit with Chung as company.

  “Gee, I thought they was all big brutes,” she whispered to Irish O’Brian. “Most of the women we saw looked more like the men back there. She’s tiny.”

  “Aye, but still bald, muscled, and with the expression of a stone carvin’,” O’Brian whispered back. “I guess they built her for speed or somethin’.”

  “Naw. They’re gonna build her into the ship sooner or later, you wait and see!”

  Murphy couldn’t help but notice that the girls already seemed to have put aside their fears and uncertainties and gone back to the banal. In a way, he envied them that. His stomach was already turning and he could use a good slug right about now, and he knew Barnum’s World and where he was headed. At least he hoped he did. These girls seemed to have the damndest knack of destroying his plans.

  Lieutenant Chung went back to the airlock and pressed her palm on the identiplate. The lock hissed but turned, almost lenslike, then moved aside. The second did much the same, and when it, too, moved out of their way, the strong smells and hot heavy air of Barnum’s World came in, enveloping them like an invisible blanket.

  “Jeez! The whole place smells like cow poop!” the normally quiet Brigit Moran commented in that high, breathless voice of hers.

  “Yeah, smells like home,” Irish responded.

  Murphy chuckled. “Ah, that magnificent scent of this here world isn’t just mere cows, girls, although there’s sure some of ’em about, nor horses, neither. You’ll see once we get out into the open and past these formalities.”

  Some illuminated arrows on the wall of the docking bay indicated direction, and they turned, Chung as pilot leading the way, and headed for the customs symbol. Murphy went behind, then the three passengers, with Maslovic bringing up the rear. The sergeant wanted to make good and sure that he had the whole party in sight the whole time, even though he knew that any modern freight terminal like this one had to have full monitoring. He had seen these girls disappear from the state of the art in monitors before.

  You could certainly tell that they had landed in the industrial part of the spaceport, if indeed there was any other part. The place was dirty, stained with who knew what on the floors and walls, and it looked like you could take your fingernail and run it across any point and come up with a large glob of unknown composition.

  Once out of the bay and into the loading dock area, they had to go slowly and carefully to keep out of the way of robotic vehicles moving containers full of goods or running empty ones back to the various ships. There were also some really nasty-looking creatures about, most quite small and trying to feed on the dropped matter without getting squashed. These included millipedelike insects so large that a few were the size of human arms, with ugly pincers at their heads and giving off threatening looks; huge hairy spiders; lots of flies and roaches; and quite a number of scuttling things that looked not even close to anything any of them had seen before. The one thing that struck them all, though, was that the seamier side of wildlife on Barnum’s World seemed to be oversized.

  “Yuk!” Mary Margaret McBride said over the din of port business. “I suddenly feel like things are crawlin’ all over me!”

  “Just don’t step on anything livin’ or the remains of somethin’ live in them bare feet,” Murphy warned. “Some of these got poison. Otherwise, just ignore ’em and they’ll ignore you for the most part. They got their business here and we got ours!”

  The arrows ended mercifully at a large set of double doors that slid open as they got to them and remained open long enough for them all to get inside.

  “Ow!” Irish O’Brian exclaimed as her foot hit the point where the door met the floor. “What the hell was that?”

  “Critter barrier,” the old captain told her. “Just don’t step right on that place where the door’s kinda rubbed from openin’ and closin’ so much and you’ll be fine. It’s just a mild shock to keep them things from comin’ in with us.”

  There was a second doorway forming a flimsy airlock of sorts just ahead, and from the ceiling a blue energy field, very thin and quite transparent, formed a kind of curtain they would have to pass through. It didn’t take a genius to figure out what it was doing; the carcasses of incredible numbers of flying things not only had piled up just in front of it but there was a constant crackling and buzzing as more things that made it past the ground barrier were stopped in midair.

  “This one’ll tickle you all over,” the old captain warned. “But if ye think ye picked up anything, it’ll nail that, too. No hitchhikers!”

  He was right. It did just tickle. Still, both Moran and McBride stopped ahead of it and seemed unwilling to go through, while Irish O’Brian hardly gave it a thought.

  Maslovic smiled. “Come on, girls! It won’t hurt you, your babies, or anything else! Promise! But no more creepy crawlies,” he promised, adding to himself, until we get back outside, anyway.

  Eventually, first McBride, then Moran, got up the nerve to step through, particularly when some of the large flying insects started making for them and their hair, and it was done.

  The terminal wasn’t really a passenger terminal, either, although it had a small section for that. Mostly it was for captains of orbiting freighters to check in, get their records and orders and bills of lading straight, and to arrange to have whatever part of their cargo was destined for here off-loaded by tugs and delivered to the right docks or for the cargo to be picked up to be put aboard. Only small vessels like port tugs and the occasional shuttle came through this area; there was a commercial passenger shuttle bay on the other side for the use of such passengers when a liner or fully equipped passenger module on a freighter was available.

  A woman with short hair and dark skin and eyes wearing a lime green uniform approached them, nodded crisply, and said, “Military shuttle passengers follow me, please!”

  Maslovic couldn’t help noticing that the woman, clearly Customs and Immigration, had given a more than cursory glance at the three pregnant young women and there was a fleeting look of surprise, perhaps disdain, when she’d done that.

  If anyone was here to meet the passengers, clearly they weren’t going to be wearing a uniform.

  The young woman punched in a code and a sliding door opened on the far wall to reveal a moving walkway. “Does anyone need to sit down?” she asked. “You can pull down seats if you like from the far wall, but please do not touch the area outside of the walkway.”

  The three young women all looked more than relieved and, when they followed the leaders onto the belt, immediately pulled down the hinged seats and sat.

  As they went, they were scanned as thoroughly as they ever had been in their lives. By the time they reached the end point of the walkway, perhaps a kilometer or so, the master Customs and Immigration computers could tell them how many hairs they had on their heads (if they had any), where their scars were, what they’d had for breakfast, and almost everything else. At the end, each of them had to stand and place their right index fingers in a small fitted slot before moving on. Although none felt a thing, their genetic histories were now added to the files.

  It ended at an unstaffed set of kiosks. A green light would go on, and you had to enter, one at a time. Lieutenant Chung was first, depositing th
e credit and authorization cube from the shuttle. It would allow the navy pair to charge throughout the city region and order whatever maintenance was necessary on the shuttle. The others were simply asked by a disembodied voice to state their full names, their planet of origin, and how long they would be on Barnum’s World. The girls were told to say “We don’t know at this time,” to that, which resulted in a warning that they had a week to find out and notify authorities or they would be located and deported.

  There was nothing else required of them. No matter where they went on Barnum’s World from this point, their own DNA matched to the database just compiled would be known, and their every move tracked within the city. Outside of the city, the transport would be known, so that authorities generally could find them as needed.

  The one thing the girls couldn’t do was buy anything. That made them totally dependent on Murphy for now, or on whoever might meet them. Murphy wasn’t all that worried about that part of it. Even on their own, he bet himself that the girls and their funny gemstones would allow them to buy almost anything they wanted without the transaction ever even registering. When you took over a naval frigate, what was a government tracking system?

  For all the precautions taken, and this was typical of modern, well-run colonies now, even Murphy knew how to bypass almost every system they had, and he didn’t even have to.

  Finally, they reached another double door setup quite like the last part but this time much cleaner and better maintained. When they went through the second of them, though, they were back into the hot, humid, and smelly air of Barnum’s World and now facing transport into the city. It ranged from robotic taxis and a basic mass transit train to the more exotic. There were carts about, and carriages, and all sorts of other conveyances, which were in many cases pulled by great beasts the likes of which none but Murphy had ever seen before. Elephants, both Indian and African type, and camels, among others.

  “There’s some of the smell, ladies,” he told them, pointing. “The local cheap and scenic route.”