"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.