Wildcatter

by Dave Duncan

  “Thanks,” Seth said. “I hope to try.”

  Now he had the ball. Everyone was looking at him.

  “Control tells me that you’ve put yourself on a course of anti-narcosis pills,” Jordan prompted, looking grim.

  “Yes, sir. Just a precautionary measure. The high partial pressure of nitrogen shouldn’t be a problem in the short term.” The long term would undoubtedly be fatal for all kinds of reasons.

  “You’ve been having very mixed success with your simulated landings.”

  Of course the captain had been asking Control what Seth had been up to, and probably everyone else had too. But none of them had asked what parameters he had been changing. He knew that much because Control had told him so and, while Control might refuse to answer a question, it would never tell a lie.

  “No eye-popping flash of genius,” Seth said. “Just caution.”

  “Caution as in two-handed Russian roulette?” Reese said.

  Seth ignored that. “The original mission plan called for two descents, with four or five touchdowns on each flight. We have to forget that, because the additional gravity we didn’t expect will gobble up fuel on the ascent and those winds will eat even more. Even for a single touchdown, shuttle fuel will be a concern. Secondly, Control is starting to get a feel for the weather. I need it to forecast calm periods a few hours in advance with reasonable confidence, and in a day or so it should be able to do that. Then I make a fast descent, using power to shed orbital velocity fast. That takes up even more fuel, but gets me down before the weather patterns change.

  “So fuel is a major problem. Two flights, with one touchdown apiece, are all we can reasonably hope for. Control’s standard algorithm for a landing simulation presumes a minimum of one hour on the ground and takes weather into consideration when calculating the outcome. It turns out that landing is not the problem. The simulations I’ve run show that almost all landings are successful.” He noted JC’s smile. No one else seemed very convinced.

  “The problem is the one-hour layover. Calms that long don’t happen very often on Cacafuego. Wind gusts are unpredictable, even on fine days. We have no way to tie our shuttle down. We know what happened to De Soto’s, which is at least a three-seater. When I change Control’s parameters to limit downtime to fifteen minutes, then the odds of a successful landing and takeoff are better than nine in ten.”

  “Fifteen minutes?” Jordan said. “You can’t even exit the shuttle for the first ten minutes because its skin is too hot from the descent. You think you can disembark, plant a flag for the cameras, load a sample into the hopper, and get back aboard in five minutes? In 1.62 gees? That’s ridiculous.”

  “Yes, sir. Any longer than that and my chances of survival drop very quickly.” Seth answered the captain’s question, but he was looking at JC. “I guess you’re right. It just isn’t worth it.”

  The look was the message, and the big man heard it like a fire-alarm; haggling over money was his business. He sprang to his feet, flushed and furious. “If you will allow us a five-minute adjournment, Captain, I need a private word with the prospector.”

  Seth rose also, holding a poker face, and followed in silence as the commodore stormed through the mess and galley until they reached the elevator. A ship’s myth held that the elevator was the only place aboard not bugged by Control, so conversations there were private. Seth had never believed that, but if JC did, then it was probably true. JC, after all, had begun his career as an IT engineer. He would know Control inside and out.

  The moment they were both inside and the door closed, Seth said, “Elevator to simulated Cacafuego gravity and make it snappy.”

  The elevator dropped rimwards, halting with a jolt that made even him gasp, while JC looked as if he just sustained a double hernia. His knees buckled and he had to grab the walls to save himself from falling.

  “What the flaming shit did you do that for, boy?”

  “We’re at 1.62 gee, sir. A demonstration. Start by touching toes.” He bent over and laid his palms on the floor. That had always been easy for him, and an extra fifty kilos on his shoulders make it easier than ever. Straightening up was more of a challenge.

  Give him his due, JC did bend until his fingers were below his knees. He even managed to straighten again from there. “So?”

  “So this is what you’d be sending me into, sir.”

  “It’s what you’re here for. I chose four people for brains and you for brawn. No fucking brains required.”

  “Brawn won’t help me deal with hurricanes and Ebola fever.”

  “The day I hired you, boy, I warned you about the odds of surviving a first landing on a virgin world. But Galactic’s team have paid that price, so you’re on a second visit. Now we’re forewarned, the odds should be better.”

  “Those odds, sir, are based on visits that all looked a lot safer than that before the sucker pressed the START button. This one looks like suicide already.”

  Veins showed in JC’s forehead. “Sonny, I’ve been around a long time and I know how to read people. I am certain that Galactic found something that got Commodore Duddridge all fired up like a cat in a carwash. He gave up the hunt for the missing prospectors awful easy, didn’t he?”

  Seth agreed with a show of reluctance. “Yes sir. I did notice that.”

  “Weren’t the landing team wearing monitors? He must have known exactly where they were, what their heart rate and blood pressure were. He didn’t tell us they were dead, did he? He gave up on his own missing people and went after bigger game.”

  “Such as what?”

  “I don’t know yet. Big, obviously. Very big, because ISLA will eat his ass out for it when he gets home. They’ll pull his license. He may face a civil suit for manslaughter. Galactic should fire him and cancel his bonus. So he’s obviously gambling that it won’t. He thinks he’s found the treasure map, but he doesn’t say what spot the X is marking. Now tell me how much more you want.”

  “More?”

  “Don’t play idiot. You just want more.” JC took a menacing step closer, which would have been amusing even if his extra weight hadn’t made him stagger.

  Seth obligingly caught his arm to steady him. “Let’s think about the same share as the captain, three percent?”

  “Flaming shit, boy! You’re dreaming in ten dimensions.”

  “I have one life only.”

  JC tried the long stare technique. He should have remembered that it didn’t work on Seth Broderick. He was trapped by the unexpected 1.6 gravity. On any other expedition, the biologist or planetologist could take over the prospector’s duties for at least the preliminary sampling mission. Here no one else but Seth, and possibly not even he, could function..

  He pulled loose of Seth’s grip. “For what? One dirt sample and a shitty picture? That’s all you’re offering?”

  Seth shook his head. “Two hours, maybe three. I doubt I’ll be able to stand upright any longer than that. As many samples and pictures as I can get in that time.”

  The commodore frowned. “You can deliver that?”

  “Two hours or no deal.”

  “Two percent, total.”

  “No. Three or no go.”

  The commodore snarled. “You realize that you’re asking for a bigger share than I’d get, because the extra would have to come out of my pocket?”

  Seth shrugged, which felt like lifting a barbell. “Whose ass are we discussing here?” His knees ached already.

  Another hard stare, not so long. “That’s a firm offer? If we promise you a danger bonus of an extra two and half percent above contract, you volunteer to go downside to Cacafuego, waiving any and all claims against the company and its officers? And you will spend not less than two hours gathering samples and taking pictures?”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “No matter what else we may learn in the next few days? This must be a one-time discussion. No racking the price higher later.”

  “It’s a deal, sir. I swear I will voluntaril
y fly the shuttle down to land on Cacafuego, no matter what else we see down there.”

  “And return! This extra is not payable to your heirs and successors.”

  Mean bastard! Luckily Seth had no dependents or heirs to worry about. “Agreed. I must return alive to Golden Hind with the samples to qualify for the bonus.”

  JC said, “Control, record this agreement between Mighty Mite Ltd. and Prospector Broderick as an addendum to his contract, to be valid as soon as he and I attach our personal sigs.”

  —Done, Commodore, said Control’s disembodied voice.

  JC smiled a gotcha smile: the elevator was bugged like everywhere else.

  Seth grinned and offered a hand. “Pleasure doing business with you, sir.”

  “A man after my own heart.” JC accepted the shake.

  And screamed.

  Seth had been waiting fifteen months to repay that squeeze in La Paz, with a little interest, but he was pretty sure that in winning the handshake he had lost the battle. He’d been outwitted somehow. Just like Commodore Duddridge, JC had given up too easily.

  * * *

  Still massaging his knuckles, JC led the way back into the control room and four expectant stares.

  “Boy Wonder believes he has found an answer to the landing problem. In return for an agreed sum of danger money, he will attempt a trip downside, while releasing the corporation from any and all liability. Does that satisfy you, Captain?”

  Jordan had lost his cherubic grin. “I’m tempted to certify him insane. Let’s hear the plan, Broderick.”

  Seth leaned back and tried to look relaxed. He didn’t feel it. He had just committed to the most dangerous thing he had ever contemplated, by far, and he was fizzing. Walking on another world was his lifelong dream, and he would probably have agreed to go if his odds of returning were one in a thousand.

  “To start with, we deploy more of the ferrets in orbit, to act as passive relays, so we have complete over-the-horizon connection between ship and shuttle.” Even a brief gap in communications could be fatal. He got a nod from Maria, whose babies the probes were.

  “Then we choose some landing sites. I’d like to keep Galactic’s Apple as primary choice, because shots of their smashed shuttle could be valuable if we ever meet them in court. It’s a good site anyway. But we’d better have backups, in case Apple socks in on my way down. As I said, I start with a fast descent, while Control keeps a weather-eye open. After we choose, I’ll make the final approach very slow. That will waste even more fuel, but a few extra minutes in the lower atmosphere—and with luck a rainstorm—will cool off the skin, so I won’t have to wait for that to happen. I’ll be wearing my K333 suit even on the descent. Two minutes after set-down I jump out, plant a flag where the cameras can see me, and throw a sample of dirt in the hopper.”

  “And then leave?” Jordan asked suspiciously.

  JC was frowning.

  “No,” Seth said. “I pull out my overnight bag and Control brings the shuttle back up to the ship to refuel.”

  He had to wait for the protests to die down, but JC was smiling again.

  “I forbid this as too dangerous,” Jordan said, blue eyes icy.

  “I don’t think you can, Captain,” JC said with venomous politeness. “A landing is written into the original contract. Prospector Broderick has assessed the risk and freely volunteered to perform this duty, while holding his employer and the ship’s officers free of liability for the consequences. He will not endanger the ship, only himself. You cannot reasonably stop him.”

  “I forbid it!” Jordan had flushed.

  Now JC did. “Letting your love life overrule your duty, Spears? First Officer Finn, what do you say?”

  Hanna bit her lip, looked down at her hands, and said, “I think I agree with the commodore, Captain. A landing is in the contract. He agrees.”

  Silence. Jordan did not answer. After a moment, Seth resumed his presentation.

  “I estimate about three hours’ turnaround for the shuttle, depending on where the ship is relative to Apple. As soon as it’s ready and the weather looks reasonable, Control brings it down and picks me up.”

  “Which may not be for a week!” Jordan said. “This is suicide.”

  “Why, sir? I said we had no way of staking down the shuttle, but I can stake me down if the wind gets obstreperous. On that open ground I can lie flat and wait out winds that would utterly trash the shuttle. There should be no flying chimney pots or tree branches out there on the flats. Or I can shelter in Galactic’s shuttle, which has been there a couple of weeks now, and must be well lodged. The EVA suit will keep me aseptic, if not comfortable, for a full Earth day in any climate. Even if I can’t remove my mask to eat, I can drink from my water bottles, and a few days without food won’t kill me. I can handle the atmosphere, as long as I’m careful with decompression later. I’ll have my blazer along to deal with predators, if any. What is such a big deal?”

  Jordan shook his head in despair. “Don’t you ever get scared, man?”

  “Sometimes,” Seth said.

  As often as possible. Danger he loved. Every mind housed at least one dragon, and that was his.

  Days 411-412

  First-footers are the bravest of the brave. They are almost invariably young men, because most women have more sense. Those boys know that their chances of dying downside are worse than the odds on a battlefield, and that whatever wipes them will likely be something no one has ever met before, or even thought of. Yet still they go.

  Fonatelles, op. cit.

  During the next two days, Seth had to explain it over and over to everyone except JC, who just wanted a sample and a video of the flag being planted. After that, whatever Duddridge might think he had found, Galactic would have to deal with JC. Seth Broderick’s survival was not important—and in fact would be detrimental to the financial bottom line. Remembering how easily the commodore had given in and granted him that extra two-and-a-half percent, Seth wondered if he might have signed his own death warrant.

  The others came at him in groups or one at a time. Seth couldn’t see why everyone else was so excited. He even failed to get his point across to Jordan that evening. The captain dragged him into his cabin and produced a bottle of high quality whiskey, potent stuff. Then he tried his damnedest to talk Seth out of going downside at all.

  “But this was always the plan,” Seth said. “I’m the prospector, this is my job. Yes, Galactic screwed up. Two women and a man lost, that’s tough. But we can learn from their mistakes. JC is right when he says Cacafuego needs heavier, tougher shuttles. If I can send back a sample with any pharmaceutical promise at all, Mighty Mite will find the money to build them.”

  Jordan was more cynical. “JC just wants to score off Galactic. He’ll be all over the media. The multinational run away, but the great JC Lecanard and his little Mighty Mite start-up company persisted. They tamed the killer planet. Triumph of a lifetime.”

  “Jordie!” Seth said. That was the name he used when they were in bed together, it came close to insubordination when they were officer and crewmember. “I’m not doing it for JC. I’m doing it for me.”

  “You won’t get a mention.”

  “I don’t want a mention. I want to be choke-on-it rich. Apart from that, I’m my own audience.”

  “You’ll be your own chief mourner, too.” The captain refilled the glasses with a generous hand.

  “Stuff it! I thrive on adrenalin with a side order of testosterone. Gives me a hard-on, so I go for it, whatever it is.”

  “Reese is right. You’re crazy.”

  “Sorry, buddy,” Seth said. “I don’t mean to worry you.” Being worried about was a very strange experience. Unique. “I’ll be all right.”

  “I hope so. I really hope so. I’d miss you.”

  Seth drained his glass just to give himself a coughing fit. It didn’t help. As soon as he got his breath back he found that he had to go on. “Nobody’s ever … I’m not used to … I don’t know how
to say this. I know ISLA tested us for claustrophobia and we all rated zero, but I am heartily sick of living in this pill box.”

  “We all are.”

  “So I dream of all the things I’m going to do when we get home. Even if all we walk away with is two years’ back pay, I feel like I’m going to blow it all and then go back to being a bouncer, if that’s all I can find. Bungee jumping, mountain climbing, scuba caving … the wilder the better … Lordie, Jordie, in my dreams you’re always there with me. I guess what I’m trying to say is, you’re special. Never met anyone… Oh, balls! Now I’m drowning in clichés. I don’t care what anatomy you’re sporting, you’re the best company I ever known. I get along better with you than anyone else I’ve ever met. I know this will sound absurd in this time and place, but if we both get home alive and rich, then I’ll ask you to marry me.” It sounded so odd, he said, “That’s the truth, Jordie. Mean it.”

  Jordan did not look startled, so he must have foreseen this madness. He shook his head sadly.

  “Shipboard romances never wear well.”

  “This one will, I promise.”

  “No one I’d rather shack up than you, Seth. For a while, certainly. Years, maybe, but marriage won’t work. Once in a while a herm and a woman make it, but herm and man never. Men resent being cut off every second month. And sooner or later they want kids. We’re sterile. You know that.”

  “So we’ll adopt. I am one hundred percent serious. Marry me!”

  Jordan shook himself, or perhaps just shivered violently. “Go and first-foot Cacafuego, Seth. Come back safely, please, please come back safely! Bring the Holy Grail back with you and anything you want in the galaxy will be yours.”

  “Including you?”

  “If that’s your choice.”

  Seth said, “Good.” Then he changed the subject. He could discuss anything with the female Jordan, but man-to-man sentiment made him uncomfortable.

  * * *