A GREAT DAY FOR THE IRISH
By A. M. LIGHTNER
Watchdogs have to be
watched or they keep everything
out—including our friends!
[Transcriber's Note: This etext was produced from
Worlds of If Science Fiction, May 1960.
Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that
the U.S. copyright on this publication was renewed.]
Bridget Kelly stood at the foot of the rocket lift and watched theloading operation. The freight had long since been inspected andstowed, and now it was the passengers' turn. Bridget was glad that foronce she was not responsible. Let others worry and snoop. This time shewas a passenger herself, starward bound. Inspected, passed and okayed,she could have the pleasure of watching others squirm.
Like that beauty coming aboard with the furs and the orchid. Shewouldn't be allowed to keep the orchid, of course. Bridget grinned asshe saw the flower tossed into a trash can and imagined the words thebeauty was mouthing. The man beside her sported a boutonniere. Yes,there it went into the can. He was still smiling, probably crackingwise. Bridget had separated so many travelers from so many items thatshe could tell what the passenger was going to say before he said it.
Most people knew that strenuous efforts were being made to keep pestsand epidemics away from Earth. Ever since the beginnings of spacetravel, the quarantine of incoming ships at the Moon had been rigidlyobserved. But the fact that plagues could also spread from Earthseldom registered on the public's mind.
Bridget was all too well aware of it. For several years she hadlabored to that end in the Quarantine Service. Now that her savingshad accumulated and her abilities as an entomologist were recognized,she was about to board one of the shining ships herself. There wereraised eyebrows when her destination was known. An entomologist goingto New Eden—a planet where insects were at a minimum. But Bridget onlysmiled. She knew what she wanted. She was bound for the frontier, wheremen are men and women are scarce.
The speaker blared. The countdown was beginning.
"Fifteen minutes!" rasped the mechanical voice. "Fifteen minutes toblast-off!"
She took a last look at the planet of her birth and squeezed into thelift. The few remaining passengers pushed in with her. A man in a redwaistcoat was commiserating with the woman beside him.
"Don't let the officials get you down," he said. "We'll have to put upwith them for the journey. But on New Eden, I hear, the conditions areso good they hardly need any regulations at all."
"It isn't that," sniffed his friend. "It's just that you gave it to meand I was hoping to wear it tonight."
"Perhaps I can buy you something in hydroponics. I had no idea theywere so touchy or I'd have had the orchid fumigated."
Bridget felt the scorn of the official for the general public. "Ifyou're going to New Eden, you ought to know we want to keep it thatway."
The red waistcoat looked down at her.
"Oh, officialdom without stripes?" he said. "Or are you an old hand?Perhaps you can explain the deal before we get there."
So he was the type that cracked wise, and she had put her foot in itright at the beginning.
"I've never been off Earth before," she admitted. "I read up on it allfirst."
The lift was at the lock door, and she slipped through without lookingback. The speaker was croaking "Ten minutes to go" as she hurried toher cabin and prepared for takeoff. She'd have to do better than this