Kaspar's Box

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.