Wildcatter by Dave Duncan Page A

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