Explore "Plague Ship" by Andre Norton on Textopian. Read with annotations and highlights.
That click, the dial beneath the counter, warned them that they were as cut off from the luxuriance outside as if they were viewing a scene on Mars or Sargol from their present position. To go beyond the shielding walls of the spacer into that riotous green world would sentence them to death as surely as if the Patrol was without, with a flamer trained on their hatch. There was no escape from that radiation -- it would be in the air one breathed, strike though one's skin. And yet the wilderness flourished and beckoned.
"Mutations -- " Rip mused. "Space, Tau'd go wild if he could see it! "