Wildcatter

Day 404

The next few days flashed by in a fog of too little sleep and far too much work: simulated landings, high-gravity exercise, and cleaning out hydroponic tanks to ensure that the system would survive his absence—provided that his absence was brief. If he did not survive, then dear Reese would have to take over the gardening. Seth also had to haul biological supplies up to the shuttle from refrigeration on the storage deck. Nobody offered to relieve him of any of his regular duties.

That evening, ship time, Jordan called yet another conference. The captain had completed their change, and was now back to being the slim golden-haired young man with blue eyes and a big friendly grin whom Seth had first met in La Paz. Their exceptional good looks were more noticeable when they were male, verging on the angelic, but it was impossible to dislike Jordan in either gender.

“Meeting come to order, please. In about three hours Control will stage a micro-jump to shed velocity and enter orbit, unless we decide that this world is hopeless. In which case we set course for Armada instead.” He shot an amused glance along the table to Seth. “Prospector, you have not reported on the results of your landing simulations. Not a peep.”

“No, sir. I lost track. Control has a better memory than I have.”

“Control, report.”

—Landing simulations directed by Prospector Broderick: twenty-four, with three, or twelve percent, successful. Simulations without human input, two hundred and five, with thirty-one successful, fifteen percent.

“Shit!” The vulgarity came from JC, predictably.

“I second that motion,” Jordan said. “Or do I mean movement? When does courage become insanity, Seth?”

“Somewhere between a barrel shop and Niagara Falls,” suggested Reese, looking relieved. To Seth’s astonishment, they were now female. Even sharing a cabin with them, he had been too exhausted to notice the switch. Was this just because they thought Jordan would consider it unchivalrous to order a mere woman to go downside? As a herm themself, Reese ought to know the captain better than that. So why?

“I will not allow Prospector Broderick to attempt a landing on this planet,” Jordan announced. He glanced at JC’s thunderous frown and then ignored it. “Under the circumstances, I see no need to continue radio silence. Control, have you found any evidence of Galactic’s fleet, or of any other ship in the vicinity of this planet?”

—None except the beacon, Captain. Its timer indicates it was activated eight terrestrial days ago.

That had been only four days before Golden Hind’s last jump. Activating the beacon would likely have been the last thing the Galactic fleet did before departing the system, so Golden Hind had probably not lost the race to Cacafuego by more than two or three weeks, and their time slips must have been roughly equal.

“Is the Galactic beacon emitting any verbal or visual message?”

—No, Captain, but its signal indicates that it will do so if queried.

Both hands on the table. “Overriding previous orders, break radio silence. Query the beacon for us.”

A man of lined face and graying hair appeared in head-and-shoulders holograph. He wore a blue shirt and a raddled expression. He looked steadily into Seth’s eyes, and into everyone else’s too.

“I am Madison Duddridge, commodore of Galactic Inc. expedition GH796 and captain of exploration vessel Bolivar.”

People called Madison were usually herms, but he had a bass-baritone voice and shaggy eyebrows.

“We are posting a warning beacon on this planet, ISLA reference GK79986B, provisionally named Hesperides by us. It is our sad experience that this world is too dangerous to explore. Surface temperature varies from above 50º Celsius to below minus 90. The weather is violent and beyond the ability of our computers to predict on the data presently available. We sent down many unmanned drones and all of them crashed in less than an hour.”

Golden Hind carried no atmospheric drones, only deep-space probes.

Duddridge still looked earnestly into Seth’s eyes: See how honest I am?

“In the belief that a larger craft would have a better chance of surviving, three very brave people agreed to go down for a brief reconnaissance. They were Prospector Meredith Tsukuba as master, Prospector Dylan Guinizelli, and Astrobiologist Mariko Seidel. Their chosen destination was a site we called Apple, on an island we named Sombrero, at latitude thirty-one north, counting north as magnetic north, in the approximate direction of the blue giant Bellatrix. The climate there appeared to be relatively benign.

“They landed safely. The two prospectors made a brief excursion, collecting preliminary samples in case they had to depart in a hurry. In the brief time they were absent, a stray gust of wind damaged their shuttle. Both Meredith and Dylan, caught out in the open, were thrown down and he broke his arm. Meredith helped him back to the shuttle, where Mariko tended him in quarantine, in case his suit had been compromised by the fall.

“Within hours, Dylan developed a high fever. He subsequently went into coma and died. Later the two women became sick, suffering fever, hallucinations, and intermittent coma. The unknown pathogen must be extremely virulent. Moreover, the women insisted that Dylan’s EVA suit had not been compromised, and he was kept in strict quarantine until Mariko also succumbed. The infective agent is thus capable of penetrating the best biosafety barriers modern science can provide.

“As soon as weather permitted, we sent down a second shuttle, unmanned. Again the weather foiled us, and it crashed about a kilometer away from the first.”

The speaker paused as an indication that the news was about to get worse.

“You certainly spotted the tiger in that jungle, Seth,” JC muttered, being unusually gracious.

“The first shuttle suffered additional damage by winds of major hurricane force, which rolled it. After that, no further signals were received from the ground party. I regretfully concluded that they had perished. Prospector Tony Violaceus, from the aptly named Courageous, very gallantly volunteered to take down a third shuttle in a rescue attempt. I refused his offer.

“We are therefore mourning all three of our comrades as lost, and posting this warning beacon. We expect that ISLA will declare Planet GK79986B off-limits, and you will find it so listed in the catalog. Of course, if this message is less than twenty years old when you receive it, we may not have returned to Earth in real time prior to your departure, and I can only urge you to heed our warning and learn by our tragic example.

“Again I honor the names of Dylan Guinizelli, Mariko Seidel, and Meredith Tsukuba.” The image disappeared.

The silence grew cold as everyone waited. Cue the violins.

At last JC said, “Tsukuba was our second choice for prospector after Broderick.”

Seth had not applied for the Galactic post. That would not have been him down there.

Jordan said, “Their story sounds pretty convincing to me, JC.”

Mr. Money was harder to convince. “Flaming pig shit, is what I’d call it, Captain. Galactic normally sends out a flotilla of three ships, which can hold twenty-four hour full-spectrum surveillance of any given location. Each ship carries at least one shuttle. Seth, lad, if you’d been there, would you have made the same offer that their Tony character made?”

“I hope I would, sir.” Seth kept his face dutifully serious, but he was amused. The campaign to win over the heart and mind of Prospector Broderick had begun.

“And would you have refused, Captain?”

Jordan pouted. “I am very glad that I didn’t have to make that decision.” He never would, because Golden Hind carried only one shuttle.

“But if you did?”

“I think I would have let him try, probably.”

“Course you would,” the commodore said. “But Galactic’s crews are paid wages. They’re not motivated to hazard their pretty necks the way we are, as shareholders.”

Some necks were motivated a lot more than others, in Seth’s opinion, but that had sounded like a faint offer to renegotiate a vertebra or two. It was also a flat contradiction of what JC had said a few days ago, when he had accused Galactic of recklessly risking the lives of its employees.

Reese said, “It’s a two-headed tiger now, sir. First the weather and now this mysterious poison or infection.”

“Don’t eat that stuff. Infection will be no problem as long as you observe standard rules, like over-pressuring, and maintain asepsis. The damage to the shuttle exposed them to infection.”

Maria said, “Sounds like they had no time to analyze anything. Even the drones brought back no samples.”

“Maybe not,” JC said. He was angry and defensive. “Or maybe. The downside lab could have reported more than we were told. A really deadly airborne poison would be a big seller back home. Governments—”

“No!” Jordan snapped. “Let’s not descend to peddling death.”

Surprise gave way to amusement at his returned assertiveness. JC’s shrug conveyed indifference. He knew, as they all did, that the contract did not distinguish between ethical and unethical discoveries. Only very rarely could wildcatters be sure what they had found until it had been analyzed in terrestrial laboratories. Almost anything could be turned into a weapon.

After a moment Reese said, “Galactic is rarely troubled by scruples. Even if they knew there was a bio-weapon there for the taking, they haven’t staked the planet.”

“They couldn’t! That’s obvious!” JC barked. “No footprint, no claim.”

“They scared off very easily,” Hanna said. “They may not have told us the whole story.”

“Of course they didn’t. Galactic never does. Well, Captain? So they lost three hands. Tragic. ISLA will review their records and hold an inquest. But who’s to say they don’t plan to build a tougher shuttle and come back? Technically it wouldn’t be difficult. Galactic can afford it.”

That made sense. Seth wondered how the story recorded on the beacon would relate to what was reported to ISLA. He even had a far-out idea of what might have killed off the Galactic people so rapidly, but it was a theory that ought to have occurred to either Reese or possibly Maria, and he wasn’t about to throw it out in public yet. They might be deliberately not mentioning it.

There had been some very odd things in Madison Duddridge’s story. The shuttle was damaged. De Soto sent down another. It crashed. A storm blew in… and that was that. How long did the storm last? Closer to hours than weeks, because those mothers were ripping around the planet like swallows in mosquito season. Galactic must have instruments that could see through rain, that could certainly identify the shuttle and probably even individual people. So why not send down a second rescue mission? The storm might have wrecked the shuttle’s antennae, but why abandon two people who might still be alive? The thought made him boil.

Jordan called for more suggestions and no one spoke. “Very well. The question is whether we stay to explore this planet from orbit, with no obvious way to attempt a landing, or whether we proceed to Armada. By law, the final decision must be mine. I am strongly leaning to the Armada answer, but I invite comments.”

“I think the decision should be the prospector’s,” JC said. Eyebrows rose all around the table. “If he isn’t willing to go downside under any circumstances, we can do no more good here than Galactic has already done. If he thinks there’s a chance, then we owe it to ourselves and his courage to spend a week or two here.”

Seth also heard, And we might be willing to bribe him a little.

The captain looked along the table to Seth. “Prospector? At the least your voice must carry more weight than anyone’s.”

“Sir, I’m not quite ready to say it’s hopeless,” Seth said. “We’ve spent fourteen months getting here. Captain, I agree with Commodore Lecanard that another weekend won’t hurt.”

Jordan studied him suspiciously. “You’d make a landing against those odds you gave us?”

“No, but I think I can cut those odds now, sir. Control, report the results of the last thirty simulated landings.”

—Most recent thirty landing simulations, twenty-three successful, seventy-seven percent.

“Well that settles it!” Jordan said. “Those odds are not—”

Seth had raised a hand to stop him. “Control, report the results of the last twenty simulated landings.”

—Most recent twenty landing simulations, eighteen successful, or ninety percent.

JC was starting to smirk. Not much got by him.

“Report the results of the last ten simulated landings.”

—Last ten landing simulations, one hundred percent successful.

JC roared in triumph and beat his fists on the table.

Jordan’s eyes burned like blue lasers; he was angry at being tricked. “How did you manage that, Prospector?”

“I cheated, sir. I need more time to make sure the cheat will work in practice.”

“I’ll accept that. You’re due on watch in a few hours and you look like you haven’t slept in a week. The rest of us aren’t helping you enough.”

Seth just shrugged.

“From now on you are relieved of all scheduled duties. I’ll post a new roster for the rest of us. You concentrate on the prospector duties. Control, enter orbit as proposed. Reese, clear away the dishes, please. Seth, I want a word with you.”

Jordan strode down the corridor to his cabin. Seth followed him in and closed the door.

“Sit!” Jordan pointed to the only chair, vaulted backwards on to a bed, and crossed his legs. Seth sat and laid one ankle on the other. His eyelids weighed tons. He had been working fifteen hours a day and not sleeping well the other nine.

“I can guess what you’re up to,” the captain said, “but it won’t work unless you promise him you’ll try a landing.”

“That’s what I’m working on, sir.”

“Can you drop any hints?”

“No, sir. I won’t know until Control can tell us more about conditions downside.”

With obvious disapproval, Jordan said, “Ok. But I warn you, if I think a landing looks too risky, I won’t allow it, no matter how much JC screams and yells. Now, listen. What I want to talk about… I know you desperately need to go and exercise your snoring muscles, but what I really need to discuss is you and Reese. You’re snapping at each other again.”

“I’m sorry. I—”

“No, it’s understandable. They call you dirty names and put you down every chance they get, whichever gender they are. It’s worse when you have to share a cabin. Do you know why they changed back to female again this time?”

“In case I do take the shuttle down. So you won’t make her ladyship risk her pretty little ass.”

Jordan smiled and shook his head. “No. She’s probably risked it in worse situations. Down, boy. I need to tell you a few things about Astrobiologist Platte.”

Seth crossed his ankles again. He didn’t need sex at the moment, or even talk about sex, just sleep. Hours and hours of sleep. He worried about letting the others down, letting himself down, muffing the only big chance he would ever get. If he went back home without trying the Cacafuego landing, his prospecting career would be over. No other expedition would ever hire a proven quitter, and he would never forgive himself. But he mustn’t let wishful thinking lull him into stupidity. If he tried and failed he would leave Golden Hind without a shuttle, so the others would have no choice but to head home again, with their hopes in tatters. What was the question again?

He thought back over the voyage. “You’ve been roommates twice?”

“Yes, but never this way round. Male, Reese’s a competent stud, a bit predictable but patient and gentle. We’ve agreed that next time we’ll change ends. You know how old they are?”

“Forty-one?”

“Older. But that’s subjective time. This is her fourth trip into the Big Nothing. She was born in 2282, ninety-four years ago. About seventy years before you were.”

Seth had no answer for that.

“They were one of the very first herms, Seth. Their family was wealthy, old money; their father won a Nobel Prize for medicine. Can you imagine a man who would put the experimental herm drugs into his own pregnant wife? Reese was conceived as a boy, if that matters to you. The process worked without a flaw, but they were a freak in their childhood, mocked, toured around like a circus. And their father was an absolute martinet, a disciplinary extremist. I gather their mother was a Marie Antoinette-level snob.”

“Tragic. Which part of this does she blame on me?”

“Seth, Seth! She blames herself. Raised by a tyrant, brought up in a mansion, taught to despise the lower classes and their lustful debaucheries—you know how priggish people were last century! Now, thanks to some time slip, she’s lived so long she finds herself in a whole new culture, and she goes and falls for an uncouth, uncultured, muscle-bound, penniless yahoo a quarter her age?”

Jordan leaned back on his elbows and grinned at Seth’s disbelief.

“It’s true, Seth! What they tell you isn’t what they mean at all. Imagine how ashamed they feel. I don’t think they changed over this time because they were worrying about accompanying you. She just wants a few nights with you before you leave.”

“Nights to do what, fergawsake? Call me dirty names?”

“To get raped,” the captain said softly, and laughed at Seth’s reaction.

“Never!”

“I’m not suggesting you do it. That’s up to you. I’m just explaining that that’s the role she sees for you—a boorish, foul-mouthed, bodice-ripping punk imposing your lustful demands on her, ordering her into bed, talking dirty.”

Seth swallowed and licked dry lips. “You are telling me that Reese Platte has rape fantasies?”

“When female, yes. And you are the thug of her dreams.”

“You can’t order me to do this.”

“Of course not! But every mind has a few dark corners, Seth, and that’s Reese’s. She desperately wants you to call insult her, tear the clothes off her, even slap her around a bit, and then overpower her and screw her. She’d weep with joy. If you can’t fit the pistol, at least try to be understanding.”

This conversation was downright unbelievable. Jordan had a string of degrees in psychology and was licensed to practice in three states. He would never gossip about another crew member’s emotional problems. So what was going on?

Seth stood up. “Captain Spears, sir, I cannot do things like that. Not hurt a woman. Not even under orders. You shouldn’t be suggesting such things. Shit, I had a kid sister I tried to rear. I watched both her and my mother dying in agony. I cannot do what you or Reese want. If I want violence, I go to the gym, pick out a guy who outweighs me by twenty kilos, and beat the hell out of him.”

“I’m not ordering you; I am merely explaining why you have problems with Dr. Platte.”

“No, sir. If she has problems with me, tell her she can ask me herself. And there will be no rough stuff.”

Seth stalked out, shaking his head. He wished he hadn’t been told all that. He really had no desire to lie with a woman of ninety-four. He took a long, soothing shower and sprayed his teeth. Then he headed for the cabin. It was dark, but light from the corridor showed him that both beds were empty, which was a huge relief. He fell into his with his clothes on and barely had time to order the lights off before he was asleep.