Wildcatter (22 page)

“Seth,” Jordan said, “Control doesn’t give much for Meredith’s chances of surviving, even if you can deliver her safely to
Golden Hind
. I know you’ll do your best to save her, but don’t kill yourself trying. That’s an order, Prospector.”

Seth said, “Yes, sir.” They both knew that no one could give him orders while he was master of
Niagara
, but the captain might feel better for having tried.

His headache was worse. He was shivering, despite the heat. Whatever had infected the Galactic crew was getting to him too. That was another reason not to waste time.

The shuttle’s skin would be cool by the time he reached it, if he ever did. He went back to Meredith. She was still alive, barely. Again he tried to lift her, but she was completely limp and here she weighed more than he would back on Earth. He would have to negotiate the ladder down to the ground, drag her over some nasty terrain, and arrive at
Niagara
with enough strength to carry her up the ladder there. If he dropped her, he might kill her.

He couldn’t do it.

Damn!

Think…

He laid his precious sample bag nearby and closed all the doors except the one to Meredith’s sickroom. Then he armed himself with the curtain rod, went to the exit, unfastened the manual clamps, and let the door fall open. The fuselage was too close to the ground, so it dropped to about a forty-five degree angle, instead of all the way to vertical.

A few centaurs had emerged and gone to inspect
Niagara
from what they must think was a safe distance, yittering nervously about the traces of steam still rising from the sand. Their panda-like faces swung around when Seth appeared in
Mercury
’s doorway. He beckoned them.

They came running, caparisons flapping. They gathered around the ladder. Fortunately, there was a spear-carrier among them. Seth must gamble that the spears were a symbol of rank. He pointed his curtain rod at that one and beckoned with his free hand.

Much yittering.

“Come here, dammit! You think I can stand for hours in this damnable gravity, waiting for you? Yes, you. Come here!”

The spear-carrier understood the gestures, if not the words, and advanced to the foot of the ladder, others clearing a path for him, or perhaps her—unless they were carrying young, they were as hard to sex as penguins. Seth stepped aside and beckoned for it to enter.

The spear-carrier scurried up the ramp at once, nosey as a monkey. Seth led the way to Meredith.

The centaur uttered what sounded like an alarm cry. It… he … poked her arm with a flipper, stroked her hair, made a strange noise that sounded mostly like a chuckle but could well be a Cacafuegian distress call.

“I need help, you cute little idiot. Summon your friends and relations. I want you to carry her for me. Like this.” Seth tugged the edge of the sheet, to show how that worked. Then he cradled the sample bag in his arms like a baby. “So jump on all six feet, understand?” He pointed an arm in
Niagara
’s direction, cradled the bag again.

Seth had found the Albert Einstein of Cacafuego: the apple dropped, understanding dawned. The centaur rushed out into the corridor, where several others had arrived.

Yitter yitter yitter yitter yitter…

One thing they had in common with humans was that they never stopped talking.

But his desperate plan worked. About eight of them crowded into the dormitory. They all kept yittering, but Einstein yittered loudest. Under his direction, they hoisted Meredith shoulder high—their shoulders—which were about thigh-height on Seth. He led the way, down the ramp, and off toward
Niagara
, aware that Control would be recording this procession and wondering how it was going to play on his plog: history being made, a naked human conscripting a team of hexapod aliens to carry another human to safety. Or perhaps to a barbecue pit? He held the sample bag before him in a strategic location, partly for modesty, but also to protect important locations from the centaur’s busily exploring flippers. They found his legs fascinating.

He dared not stop to rest and he was staggering by the time he reached the shuttle. The door swung down for him, alarming his escort just enough that he managed to be first up the ramp. The two-meter climb was almost beyond his strength.

Overhead, the first bulkhead hatch of the Gut was closed, restricting the entrance to what would normally be the decontamination chamber. The rest of the shuttle would not be infested by centaurs, which might see
Niagara
as a giant chimney and want to explore it.

There was little enough room for Meredith as well, but Einstein yittered orders, many eager flippers raised her, and Seth somehow managed to haul her in, at the risk of wrecking his back. He arranged her, sitting against the wall, knees up. Then he gently resisted efforts for the whole tribe to join him. One of them was a spear-carrier—probably Einstein, although he still could not tell one Cacafuegian from another. Seth offered to trade a priceless imported curtain rod for a wooden spear armed with a sharp shell point. Einstein caught on at once and yittered loudly as they made the exchange.

ISLA would throw purple fits, of course, but if the centaurs were not already rummaging all through what remained of
Mercury
, they wouldn’t need long to work out how the doors opened. They would find bedding, clothes, and many other goodies. Seth had broken every rule in
GenRegs 002
, the section that dealt with first contact, and would face a charge sheet as long as his arm. He would plead
force majeure
and sanctity of human life. More important, he was going to be an international hero, so ISLA wouldn’t dare penalize him harshly. Just fine him a million dollars or so. By then he wouldn’t care about small change like that.

“Control, start raising the ramp, but go slowly until the centaurs are all off it.”

The centaurs quickly took the hint, with Einstein scrambling to safety behind his followers. Control slammed the door. Seth sat down beside Meredith, which was a tight fit. He was starting to see double and his head felt like it was about to burst.

“Seth, this is Jordan. You read me?”

“I copy,” he mumbled.

“You can’t survive takeoff in that position.”

“We’ll have to. I can’t climb the ladder myself, let alone do it for two. Wake me when … in orbit. And don’t,” he muttered, “let Control fumigate us with toxic chemicals. Prospector … out.”

Days 415-422

002.002 Sampling is forbidden on any world on which a Sentience Alert Beacon has been posted. As soon as a possibly sentient species is encountered, all materials, living or dead, previously or subsequently gathered on that world, automatically become the property of ISLA.

General Regulations 
InterStellar Licensing Authority 
2375 edition 

Seth had no recollection at all of the next two days, and only spotty memories of the two after that. He gradually became aware that he was aboard
Niagara
, lying in the prospector’s bunk. Once in a while, someone would come to fuss over him, instead of just leaving him to die in peace as he wanted. When, at last, he could force his eyes to focus, he determined that his tormentor was Reese Platte, still female, and wearing an aseptic suit. She was doing something with heavy web straps.

“Oh, you’re back?” she said cheerily. “How do you feel?”

“Groan
.”

“Well, that’s better than nothing, and much better than all the things you’ve been saying lately.”

“Uh?”

“Doesn’t matter. Just delirium. Can’t be held against you. We had to strap you down. You’re not going to erupt again, are you? Convulsions in free fall are not as dangerous as they are in gravity, but you might still damage yourself. I am going to give you a sponge bath. Yes, I certainly am, because at the moment you would qualify as toxic waste under the Oslo Convention.”

* * *

He came to his senses fairly rapidly in the hours after that, although physically he was as weak as a newborn. His next visitor was Hanna, wearing ordinary ship gear. She had come to remove his IV feed and give him a bulb of pseudo-chicken soup.

He felt strong enough to ask. “I take it that I am no longer in quarantine?”

“No.” That answer was suspiciously lacking in detail.

“I can rejoin the party, then?”

“Not yet. We’re still depressurizing Meredith, and you have to stay in the shuttle with her unless you want to risk an attack of the bends yourself.”

“How is she?”

“She’s recovering. She had a dozen rampant infections and parasites—all of which we dealt with—but mostly she was suffering from major nitrogen narcosis. No signs of anything unknown, and Control says she’ll live.”

“And me?”

“Unknown pathogen, but you’re recovering too.”

“Where are we going? Home or Armada?

“Home. We decided that as soon as
Niagara
left Cacafuego. Our life systems will be too close to critical when they must support seven people. Also we’re out of shuttle fuel.”

Seth decided he would go and see Meredith as soon as Hanna left. Instead, he fell asleep.

He learned later that he had not been as helpless as he thought. As soon as the shuttle had reached orbit, he had reacted as if he were conscious. He had floated Meredith along the Gut and strapped her down in the biologist’s bunk, then attached three pressure-driven intravenous feeds, which had been left there in readiness for her. He had even stowed his sample bag in the lab freezer before putting himself to bed, but he had no memory of doing any of those things. Control had docked the shuttle, and Reese had boarded to tend the invalids.

His next visitor was the captain herself, bringing more food and looking haggard. Seth accepted the bag but left it floating within easy reach.

“Tell me.”

“Tell you what?”

“Your troubles. You can’t fool me. Speak up.” Why, for instance, had they decided to change over so soon? Usually they stayed one gender for at least a month.

Jordan smiled ruefully and folded into a sitting posture. “I was planning a special welcome-home ceremony, but I discovered I’d have to restrain myself for a few days. Eat up. You can help best by getting your strength back. We think we can risk returning you to standard atmospheric pressure in three or four days.”

“So you’re shorthanded. Where’s Reese?”

“In bed. And JC also. ‘Unknown pathogen.’ Meredith was right when she said this thing could escape any containment.”

“But what is it?” A century of galactic exploration had turned up a fantastic variety of viruses and bacteria. It seemed incredible that there could be anything really new to human medical science now. Reese and Control between them should be able to type any sort of infective agent and zap it with the appropriate drugs.

“They don’t know. Meredith survived it and it looks as if you will. The rest of us can only hope we’ll do as well when we catch it. Drink your soup while it’s hot.”

“Next time bring a steak.”

“Soft biscuits and warm milk.”

Seth said something no gentleman should say to a lady.

When Jordan had hurried off to attend to a million duties, Seth drank soup and brooded over the news. In theory the trip back to Earth should take only a few days, retracing the jumps they had made on the way here. In practice, space was never still, and
Golden Hind
had journeyed not merely 1,500 light years’ distance, but at least 1,500 years. If one of their havens had disappeared, Hanna would have to start all over, ferreting out a new route.

When
Golden Hind
arrived in near-Earth space, Control would automatically report this unknown infection and ISLA would slap a quarantine order on the ship. There were very few precedents for that, and no way of knowing how long the ban would last. Of course the news of a sentient species would ring around the world, but the new celebrities would not be available to be feted.

Seth was a made man. He would have his plog edited into shape by then and royalties would come pouring in for years. Meredith might work up hers from Galactic’s records, but it would not be as complete or as dramatic as Seth’s. She would have a cast-iron legal case against Galactic for attempted murder, so in the end she would be rich also.

But the others? They would be famous and broke.
Golden Hind
would be seized by the banks and the crew would be very lucky to see even the termination bonuses they had been promised in their contracts. They would not benefit from the samples Seth had so diligently collected. Even if everyone recovered completely from the mysterious infection, the voyage home was not going to be a happy one.

After eating, he decided to pay a call on his fellow sufferer. Wrapping himself in a bed sheet—since no one had yet thought to bring him any clothes—he floated along the Gut to the biologist’s cabin to visit with Meredith. Even in free fall, he felt weak, tending to bounce off walls. He found her alert, reading text on the monitor, and wearing very little more than he was. She was barely recognizable as the bedraggled, starving, poisoned, wreck he had known on the planet. Now she was a dream of womankind, her hair clean and shiny, her eyes bright. The way they lit up at the sight of him was flattering.