Kaspar's Box tk-3

by Jack L. Chalker

  They just gaped at it all, the taxis and trains as exotic as the bizarre animals, unable to take it in.

  “Welcome to Barnum’s World,” said Captain Murphy.

  VI: THE ORDER OF SAINT PHINEAS

  The maglev train, with no sound to speak of and no obvious driver, pulled into the station and came to an equally silent stop and opened its sliding doors.

  “Is it alive?” Mary Margaret wanted to know.

  “Of course not!” Sergeant Maslovic responded, sounding amused. “You’ve never seen a train before?”

  “We’ve never seen nothin’ before,” Irish O’Brian responded, looking as nervous as the others at the prospect of actually getting inside the thing. “Just pony carts and horses and the occasional spaceship. Stuff like that.”

  “C’mon, girls, just step aboard and take a seat!” Murphy urged. “This won’t wait forever, and I want to get into town.”

  Chung was already on, and Maslovic and Murphy helped each of the young women to come aboard even though there was no step and no gap. It was just now striking even the old captain just how fish-out-of-water these girls were. He’d been going back and forth in his mind, calling them “girls” but knowing that they were older and more experienced in one way than the name implied, but it worked here more than anywhere else as a truthful term. They were mere children in most experiences.

  Even though they’d pulled an amazing fast one on the navy and actually partly taken control of a sophisticated craft, they really didn’t know what they were doing or what even they were seeing. They were being fed, led, or controlled when they did that. In actual fact, none of the trio had ever been off Tara Hibernius before, and the world in which they’d been born and raised had been kept deliberately backward and primitive, more nineteenth century than twenty-third. It was one thing not to have seen an elephant before; few had who hadn’t been on one of the very few worlds where they were a part of the culture. It was quite another to consider that none of the three had ever seen a train, a taxi, even a paved road or sidewalk. Now here, everything was new and scary and mysterious. No matter what powers they had, without the mind behind those necklace gems or the minds here they were pretty much helpless, not to mention clueless.

  The trains were extremely fast as well as being isolated from just about all bumps and grinds, and if there hadn’t been several stations between the spaceport and the city, they would have been there in just a few minutes. As it was, they reached the downtown section of Port Bainbridge in about twenty minutes.

  “We might as well get off at this stop,” Maslovic told them. “This is the center of the main commercial district. I don’t know where else would be better.”

  They all exited at the stop, and as the train closed its doors and floated silently away down its maglev track, Murphy turned to Chung and Maslovic and asked, “So, now what?”

  “What do you mean?” the lieutenant responded.

  “I mean exactly that,” the old captain explained. “We’re in the middle of town in what looks like the middle of the day and these three sweet things can’t even get a cup of tea on their own. They stand here basically clad in the navy’s bathrobes helpless as babes. I know where I have to go, but what of them?”

  “What about them?” Chung asked him. “We’re free of responsibility to you and to them at this point. We’ve landed you successfully at the nearest inhabited and interconnected colonial world. We have naval business here, and then we are on leave until our ship comes insystem. Our responsibility to you is done.”

  Murphy looked like he was about to have a stroke. “But—but—you can’t do this to me! I got me own business here and then I want off! I can’t be saddled with the three of ’em indefinitely! I mean, I ain’t even been paid yet!”

  “I’m afraid they are your problem, Captain,” Maslovic put in. “I mean, when we intercepted you, you were in the process of smuggling these three here, or at least bringing them here. Three very young, underage in fact, pregnant teens without the permission of any of their family or even that family’s knowledge. That can result in some pretty serious stuff if it were to come to that!”

  “Oh, c’mon! You know they was runnin’ fer their lives!”

  “So you say. Well, you also said you were being paid to bring them here. They’re here. We didn’t stop that. Now they’re your problem. You’re lucky we don’t turn you in, or at least charge you for the robes.”

  Murphy’s face was beet red and he began to sputter. “But we ain’t even due here for another week! What do I do with ’em until then?”

  “If we didn’t have other things to do, we’d be quite curious to find out the answer to that,” Lieutenant Chung said to them, trying to keep a totally blank expression on her face and not quite making it. “Farewell, Captain. Farewell, young ladies. Sergeant?”

  “Yes, sir?”

  “Let’s get on with our business,” she said, and the two of them walked crisply away from the other four and were quickly gone down the escalator at the far end of the station.

  Although there were some informally dressed commuters around waiting for the next train, they were otherwise alone on the platform.

  Irish O’Brian asked innocently, “Where do we go now, Captain?”

  Murphy sighed. “I’ve half a mind to just leave you here on the platform meself,” he muttered in reply, “but then I might not ever get paid and you’ll pull some of that blasted witchcraft and the locals’ll all be comin’ lookin’ for me to blame and pay damages.” He sighed in resignation, and the color began to go back to almost normal. “All right, ladies. Follow me.”

  The fact was, while he knew he had some credit left on Barnum’s World, which was, after all, one of his regular stops, he nonetheless wasn’t certain that he had enough to cover four people, three of whom would need practically everything, for a full week each. They were not too charitable here when it came to folks who ran out of money, and the last way he wanted to wind up was out on the street begging or stealing with these three in tow. He wished right now that he could access their power, whatever it was, as easily as whoever was on the other side of those damned gemstones did.

  Well, there’s a thought, he considered as he led them to street level and then down the walk towards the hotel area. Either whoever that is on the other side of them things better damned well pony up or we’ll hock one of ’em little sons of bitches. Should bring a tidy sum, particularly on the black market here. Real Magi stones. Not bad.

  He stopped at an information kiosk on the street and checked his credit. It was better than he thought, but no retirement stipend. If it was more than a week here, or anything unexpected came up, he might well be in some trouble getting started again without going on the grift. Not that he hadn’t done that many times, but he was getting too old for that shit, and it would have to play out here, on a world he’d just love to get off of as quickly as possible.

  * * *

  The fancier the place, the more real humans you dealt with. Not that they were much better than machines, but at least they made you feel like it mattered.

  “Your—daughters, sir?” The clerk tried mightily not to sound dubious.

  “Aye, can’t you tell by the accents?” he asked the man. “What do you take me for? A dirty old man? Hell’s bells, man! You can see that they already been knocked up, all three of ’em!”

  The clerk looked embarrassed and tried clearing his throat. “Oh, yes, sir. Please don’t think I was suggesting something untoward here. I apologize.” Money was money and, in fact, the clerk probably didn’t give a damn if Murphy was a dirty old man and the father of all three forthcoming children. Barnum’s World was used to the unconventional; indeed, it had been settled by and, outside the more structured city environment, still was inhabited by some of the least conventional people humanity had left. So unconventional that if the old man had introduced them as his wives or companions there would have been less of a surprise. There was always a kind of reaction to robbing
the cradle, though.

  “Luggage, sir?”

  Murphy chuckled. “We was just dropped here cold by them damned navy tax police. They even charged us for the clean clothes! It’s only good luck that I have credit accounts here that them bums can’t touch! No, no luggage. But I hope to heaven we’ll have some goin’ out! Me, I’ll be here only a few days, until me daughters’ families come pick them up.”

  “They are local here, sir?”

  “No, but they’re here now. Nosy sort for a spaceport concierge, ain’t you? Are ye a hotel man or a cop?”

  The hotel rep was looking nervous and uncomfortable. “Oh, I work for the hotel, sir! Just making idle conversation while the room is checked.” He looked down at a panel in front of him and seemed visibly relieved. “Ah, yes! It’s ready now, sir. Just a moment and I’ll take you up to your room and show you the features.”

  “No, I know the features. Just tell me which room and we’ll go up and let you know if it ain’t suitable,” the captain told him. The fellow probably was just hotel personnel, but he wouldn’t blink twice at feeding some tidbit of information to the local cops or maybe even the local crooks if it was worth his while. Murphy knew the type. All the fancy clothes in the world couldn’t disguise a grifter. In some ways he preferred this type. More his kind of people, and sure a lot better than the ones who were part of some damned religious group. Those types made him nervous.

  They went up to the room, which was also keyed to his right index finger and right eyeball patterns, and it was a very nice room. Almost too nice, Murphy thought, looking around. With a bedroom and spacious furnished parlor, he felt that a level of privacy might be maintained here while not interfering much with comfort. Even the couch seemed luxurious when compared to those shuttle hammocks.

  The women, too, seemed to like the look of the suite, and investigated every square millimeter of the place and all the buttons and voice command gadgetry available. Most popular was the huge bathroom, with its whirlpool-style tub and huge well-stocked vanity. He let them have their fun; he suspected that soon they’d find things more drudgery and sleepless nights, and they might as well enjoy this while they could.

  For some reason, he felt tired, almost drained of energy, in spite of having spent so many days doing nothing at all. Some might have suggested that it was the copious amount of whiskey he’d consumed during that period that might have been catching up with him, but his old Irish soul rejected that as somehow unmanly. Still, this pretty room was costing a fortune and it seemed criminal not to use it, particularly since he was stuck until he could unload the girls. In the meantime, they seemed so taken with the bath and such, and so lively and awake, he thought he could take the opportunity to simply crash on top of that big bed with the satiny spread while they played their games. Kicking off his shoes, he went into the bedroom and plopped down on top of it. The sensation was so wonderful he was asleep in less than a minute.

  He didn’t know how long he slept, but he awoke suddenly, sitting up on the bed wide awake as if cold water had been splashed on his face. He was surprised to find that he was actually in the bed, and that the covers had been pulled up over him, but he was much more startled to see that it was almost dark.

  And silent.

  Pushing off the covers, he got up and walked out into the parlor, suddenly worried about what those girls were up to while he’d slept. The lights came on as he walked through, and what was most disturbing of all was the fact that nothing seemed to be out of kilter. Everything was as fresh and undisturbed as when they’d entered, and although the sumptuous bath had been clearly used, there was no sign of the ones who’d used it.

  “Jesus, Mary, and Joseph!” he swore aloud. “Them girls is out in this town in nothin’ more’n bathrobes and sandals and no experience with the denizens of civilization at all!”

  He immediately left the room and took the lift down to the reception area. No sign of them there, either, nor of the concierge who’d checked them in, but hotel reception people were there. None could remember seeing three young women of those descriptions or any other descriptions pass through the area since they’d been on duty, and some had been there all afternoon.

  Damn them! They pulled another one of them witch vanishing acts again!

  He started to go out into the shopping district, which was just coming to life with its lights and glitzy signs and exotic smells, when he suddenly stopped and just stood there in the hotel entrance, staring.

  What the hell could he do? He had no more chance of finding them than anyone else, and if they were in that invisible mode or whatever it was they could pull, then nobody else would have noticed them, either. At least that situation would help defend against the nasty people and things around the city, and they were unlikely candidates for much in the sex side of things right now, so he couldn’t do much except sweat a bit and wait them out and hope that they came back.

  He turned, went back up to the room, cleared off the parlor table, and called room service for a good dinner. While waiting, he decided to see if anyone of interest might be in the city directory.

  Computers were very good at figuring out what you wanted and finding it for you, but he hated having a dialog with a machine. He called up a holographic screen with a print listing and sought some information.

  Phineas… Phineas… Nope. Wait! Not Phineas! Saint Phineas, wasn’t it? Yes, let’s see…

  There was nothing in the commercial or institutional directories that seemed to fit what he was looking for, but the plain contact listings, without the three-dimensional super ads and special effects, did show an Order of Saint Phineas. Not much of a description, but it was in the southwestern suburbs, a residential area mostly, but easily reached by mass transit.

  “Research,” he said to the screen floating in front of him. “Expand on any cross-references on directory entry highlighted.”

  “St. Phineas, Order of, rel., frat., priv. Chapel, grounds, residences. Members only. No visitors unless invited. Strictly enforced. Security A five.”

  That was interesting. A security level like that might be expected at banks and dealers in art and precious gems or the like, and higher-level government offices. Rather unusual for a religious order, which is what the thing also said. Of course, if the girls really meant it when they said they were Satanists, then any such order might well have that kind of security and more.

  He sat up, frowning. “Information, can you find me anything on Saint Phineas?”

  “No information on Saint Phineas is in my records,” responded a pleasant and human-sounding female voice. “However, there is an Order of Saint Phineas listed in the communications directory.”

  “Never mind.” That was going in circles.

  He probably was one of those obscure Catholic saints, of course. There was one for just about every name or combination of syllables in the known universe, or so it had seemed when the religious calendars came out when he was growing up. Not likely to bother having all of those on a secular world’s directory like this one. Not much of Vaticanus here, that was for sure. More likely here would be Buddhists, Hindus, Moslems, Baptists, that sort of thing.

  And all of a sudden it hit him like a bolt of lightning from the heavens themselves. Where was he sitting, anyway? Those rascals! Those damned scoundrels! People after his own heart, most likely.

  “Information,” he called again. “Phineas Barnum, please.”

  “No listing for a Phineas Barnum.”

  “Not a listing. Who was he?”

  “Barnum, Phineas Taylor, lived eighteen ten to eighteen ninety-one, Old Earth calendar system. Established museum of curiosities, later created a traveling circus called the Greatest Show on Earth. Descendants of the circus, merged many times and split among many units, perform to this day on established appearance circuits, with some periods of interruption. Credited with the saying, ‘There is a sucker born every minute.’ Barnum was also a politician and mayor of a major city at one time in his car
eer. He—”

  “That’s enough!” As the signal bell sounded indicating that dinner had arrived, he sat back and laughed heartily to himself. Phineas Taylor Barnum. A sucker born every minute!

  It made perfect sense. Nobody paid anything to see robots battle or holographic shows that did the same things time after time, and even if you could walk right into a virtual reality game and battle gladiators in ancient Rome, there was some prurient interest and even some artistic appreciation for those folks of the old school who could still perform the old acts, live, in the ways you couldn’t.

  There’s one born every minute… He almost choked on the steak, good as it was, because of his inability to suppress chuckling spasms.

  This was a scientific reserve, but it was more than that. Lots of genetics work was done to order here, and lots of preservation and even resuscitation of extinct plants and animals from preserved DNA and stored encoding sequences were done here as well. It was also one of the few places where, for some substantial fees, you could do some special-order genetics on humans as well. Not well publicized, and in the old days before the Great Silence it was never advertised, but it was done here. What better place for breeding controlled mutations if that’s what you wanted to do? Lots of museum and performer types here as well, because of the laid-back attitudes. And even universally condemned activities might be done here, no questions asked.

  And that was what he’d been doing for them all this time. They had their performers who might even get around now and then to out-of-the-way worlds like Tara Hibernius. Who would look twice at them? Such a backward nontechnological society would be a natural for live performances.

  So you dropped by and you already carried the seeds of the project, whatever it might be, and thanks to the strict claustrophobic society there would be a lot of teen rebellion, perhaps against both church and society, so you had a seemingly unthreatening underground organization that attracted some of the young. The best prospects might be impregnated with the project seed, and then good old Murphy comes along delivering atmospheric purifiers and super fertilizers and he picks up the impregnated ones who also have been chosen as ones who really wanted out or else and deposits them here. Who would notice? Even if something in the chain blew, it wouldn’t look like any kind of illegal genetics work, it would just look like what it seemed, with the Satanic stuff thrown in for an even smellier bundle of red herrings.