Wildcatter

“I’ll be praying for both of you, Seth.”

“Good thinking. Prospector out.”

* * *

Hoping to find something to eat other than Meredith’s raw fish, which would be putrid by now, he hunted through the prospectors’ supplies. He had no success. Anything edible would have been kept in the galley.

The centaurs were still all around the shuttle, waiting for more glimpses of the alien. Whenever he approached a window, the watchers outside would shout and wave, and others would come running. He decided it would be a good idea to let them grow accustomed to seeing him with his headband on. Maybe then they would let him leave with it. His plog was safely archived on Golden Hind, but he wanted to record his departure.

“Golden Hind to Prospector.” Hanna again.

“I copy you.”

“Niagara will be landing in five minutes.”

He was astonished to feel a sudden lump in his throat. Was the ordeal almost over? His great adventure, the aim of his life, the day for which he would be forever remembered? Nearly finished?

“Maybe this time I’ll accept a few prayers, then. Meredith is still in coma. Can I give her a stim shot?”

There was a moment’s pause and the next voice belonged to Reese, who doubled as medical director.

“Under normal circumstances, no medical protocol would allow it. However, if that is her only hope of survival, then you’ll have to risk it. Leave your camera in another room when you do.”

“Thanks a bundle. Prospector out.”

The shuttle must come in from the west and he had no clear view in that direction, but he could watch the centaurs outside. Damn, but they were cute! He waved, they waved. He managed a clumsy little dance. They danced. He noticed that there were always a few clambering up or down the sides of chimneys; with their middle and rear limbs spread out they looked like giant bats. Meredith had suggested that their hairless skin dried out in the sunshine and they liked to stay damp. Whatever creatures made the chimneys always grew near a river mouth or the sea.

He went back to check on Meredith and found her condition unchanged. How was he going to transport her if he couldn’t carry her? The simplest way would be to strap her on a stretcher and drag one end, trailing the other like a travois. No doubt this flying palace had included a stretcher in its medical supplies, but it would not likely have been stored in the bow section. He had not found one, and could think of no way to improvise one. He attacked one of the bunks with his bare hands, hoping he could somehow detach the frame, but he made no impression at all. The mattresses were too flexible. The nearest he found to anything useful was a metal rod from a closet. He needed two of them, each twice as long.

The waiting was getting to him. He had a headache.

He returned to the cab, where the larger windows gave the best view of the landing ground. The centaurs were all facing west, hearing something.

The dream is over. Ready to wake up and go back to waiting on tables, Master?

The centaurs stampeded, fleeing to the safety of the chimneys, which probably meant underwater. The chimneys were always wet, always seeping. So when winter brought snow instead of rain, they would drain completely and their porous walls would provide insulation, while their exteriors would be sealed by ice. Storm surges would pile sea ice around them, natural igloos with rocky cores. It was quite possible that the centaurs could hibernate inside them.

A shadow passed slowly overhead. Niagara blew fire on the sand, then settled in a perfect landing. Seth released his breath with a rush, not having realized that he had been holding it. He passed on the good news to the ship, although Control would be monitoring and reporting.

“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…