“What do you mean by that?” Maslovic asked the old captain.
“You’ll see. Think of the whole world as a zoo, an animal preserve, and a botanical gardens to boot. Just about everything that was still livin’ when the place was set up, a century or more before the Great Silence, goin’ back to Old Earth species and through any of the stuff we found out here. Animals, plants, you name it. So if some nasty booger comes along and all Tara Hibernius’s sheep get sick and die, here’s where they come to get more, genetically perfect and maybe immune as well. New Siam short on their kind of elephants? Got some. And if you’re terraforming a place to specific design, here’s the plants and bugs and bacteria and crap you’ll need, and they can be specially produced to adapt perfect to what you can’t terraform. Hell of a business, even now on some worlds. And now that nobody can go back and pick up any species not already extinct, and there’s tons of those, the folks down there think they got a kind of sacred trust. Me, I just think most of ’em prefer animals to people.”
“I scanned the database on it. Fascinating sounding. But I’ve never been on a world with a full ecosystem including everything down to the microbe level. This could be quite interesting.”
“The first time you get stung by a bloodsucker insect and then you come face-to-face with a jumpin’ spider bigger’n your head, you’ll think different, Sergeant. I promise that.”
The intercom came on again. “Out of jump. All nominal,” Chung reported. “I’m now in the system control region of Barnum’s World. Too far out for a really good picture but I’ll give you what I got.”
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.”