Warner nodded. "No problem, Havu. I think you'll be useful, since we're still pretty close to the Empire." Warner turned to O'Hara. "What about the show?"
O'Hara thought a moment. "Well, we contracted to do a season on Mystienya, and I think that's what we're going to do." He smiled at Havu. "I'll see if we can pick up some of that eight billion credits before we leave."
Havu turned toward Billy. "I enjoyed our talks, Billy. Will you leave with the show?"
"Yes. I'm a circus fixer." He chuckled, shook his head, then looked back at Havu. "You were right about the Hazb being the best part of the Goatha. After the investigation, when none of the Nuumiians were looking, I caught Karl Arnheim's eye and gave him this." Billy bugged his eyes and stuck out his tongue.
Havu laughed. "I take it that is a gesture of disrespect."
Billy nodded. "I thought Karl Arnheim would blow a blood vessel. It was... wonderful."
O'Hara placed an arm across Billy's shoulders. "Well, I guess we better be getting the show on the road. Right Patch?"
Billy nodded. "Right, Mr. John."
VI In The Cart
EDITION 2148
THIRTY-SEVEN
April 14th, 2148
En route to H'dgva, the first planet of O'Hara's Greater Shows' tour of Tenth Quadrant planets. The last star system containing an inhabited planet was passed twenty-four days ago, and it will be another twenty days until we reach H'dgva. Today we will cross the border between the Ninth and Tenth Quadrants—the first star show ever to do so...
Jon Norden, Chief Engineer for the circus ship City of Baraboo, sat slumped at his bridge station studying the match indicators for the ship's Bellenger pods. The mass transceivers had been cranky ever since the show left its laying up grounds on Badner. With the pods in operation, the Baraboo crossed distances at several times the speed of light, while theoretically moving no faster than two hundred kilometers per hour. Without the pods—something Jon felt in his bones might be a distinct possibility—the Baraboo could make a maximum of six thousand kilometers per second under emergency impulse power. He didn't even want to think about the thousand centuries or so that it would take to get back to civilization at that speed. But that was their only option if the pods malfunctioned. Unmatched Bellenger pods, if used, would atomize the ship, leaving O'Hara's Greater Shows nothing but a memory and a cloud of subatomic particles.
Jon completed his fourth computer check on the pods, pursed his lips, then looked around at the long, low rectangle of the ship's bridge. In the center of the bridge stood a small, cloth-draped table. Before the table, Cross-eyed Mike Ikona, the ship's Boss Porter, prepared the crystal and champagne for the line crossing ceremony. On the other side of the table, toward the front of the compartment. Bald Willy Coogan occupied his place in the Chief Pilot's chair, while standing next to Bald Willy was the Governor. John J. O'Hara kept his eyes toward the forward view ports almost as though he were searching for the border by sight.
Turning back to his instrument panel, Jon rubbed his chin and frowned. All indicators read green. Everything was fine. Not even a minor adjustment had been needed for the past three hours. Jon rubbed his chin again. Maybe things were just a little too fine. He reached forward and punched his comm for the rear engineering section. "Animal, you there?"
"I'm here, Pirate. Whatcha want?"
Jon smiled at the nickname. Everyone with a circus had to have a special name, almost as much as clerics on Earth adopted names when they joined priesthoods. Pirate Jon had gotten his when he led his fellow workers at the Arnheim & Boon Conglomerated Enterprises orbiting shipyard in securing the City of Baraboo—some might say stealing—for the show. Jon drummed his fingers on the armrest of his swivel seat. "Animal, get a crew down to the pods. I want the access ports pulled and both pod assemblies gone over with microscopes."
"I don't see anything down here. You have a reading?"
Jon shook his head. "Just a bone tickle. Tell me what you find."
"Engineering's putting on quite a party for crossing the line. My boy's will sure hate to miss it."
"So, sign on and troupe with another show." He chuckled. "I'll save you some of that sparkle juice."
As the Second Engineer signed off, Jon wondered about the crew of riggers, welders, mechanics, and technicians that had followed him when he stole the ship from the yard. Karl Arnheim, the A in A&BCE, had tried to have them all arrested, and failing that, he had blackballed them from one end of the Ninth Quadrant to the other. The few who had tried to obtain shipbuilding work at various stands had always come back. The freeze was on, but never a complaint, never a regret.
"You look a little down in the mouth, Pirate."
Jon turned his head and looked up. "Oh, hi, Mr. John."
"I heard you tell Animal to check out the pods. Something wrong?"
John turned back to his instruments and shrugged. "Just a feeling. We've had so much trouble with them so far, I'd sleep a lot better if Animal had a look."
O'Hara nodded. "You're the engineer."
Jon rubbed his chin again, then turned his chair to face the Governor. "Mr. John, the grapevine says we're touring the Tenth Quadrant because Karl Arnheim is running us out of the Ninth. How much truth is there to that?"
O'Hara looked down, then faced Jon. "A lot. For the past three years he's been buying up every little one-horse show he can get his hands on—even forcing some to sell. In another two or three years, A&BCE will probably have a complete monopoly of Ninth Quadrant star shows."
Jon frowned. "Not if we stuck around, he wouldn't. We opened up the Quadrant for the star circuses, and some of the crew thinks we ought to stay in the Ninth and slug it out with Arnheim. We've whipped him every other time he's tried something."
The Governor chuckled. "Yes, we have." His face grew serious. "But I'm not in business to fight, Pirate; I'm in the entertainment business." He held a hand out toward the front view ports. "There's thousands of planets out there just itching to see their first circus, and neither of us will live long enough to play them all. The Universe is big enough for this show and the Abe Show. All we have to do is move over a little bit. The price of not moving over is higher than I want to pay."
A loud pop resounded throughout the bridge causing all heads to turn in the direction of the Boss Porter. Cross-eyed Mike held up the green bottle. "One minute to the Quadrant line." Crosseyed turned and called to the bridge conference room.
Bald Willy stood up from the pilot's chair. "Everything on automatic, and let's do some damage to that jug of Cross-eyed's."
O'Hara slapped Jon on the shoulder, turned, and went to the table. Jon studied the panel for a second, then flicked on the automatic alarm systems. He gave the panel a last look, then swung his chair around, stood, and joined the others in the center of the bridge.
The Bridge crew was joined by the non-Bridge personnel from the conference room that the Governor had invited for the ceremony: Iron Jaw Jill, Sweetie Pie and her mother. Duckfoot would be down cracking a keg with the roughnecks while Pony Red would be with the animal men in the menagerie. Kristina the Lion Lady, Madam Zelda, Pretzels the Female Contortionist, Fish Face... Cross-eyed Mike held out a thin-stemmed lead crystal glass filled with a bubbling, light golden liquid. When all of the persons on the bridge had gathered around the table and held glasses, the Governor looked at his watch for a few moments, then looked up. "That's it; we've crossed the line." He held up his glass. "To the season."