Free Wildcatter by Dave Duncan

parameters still unknown to estimate reliably, especially the profile of the shore. Higher gravity should reduce wave height but increase their kinetic energy. Terrestrial hurricane waves would be a useful first approximation.
    Forget marine landing.
    He called a halt. He was exhausted, soaked with sweat, and battered by Control’s enthusiastic simulations. Small wonder: he had been in the cab for an astonishing ten hours. He shed the training suit and hung it back in its cupboard.
    —First Officer Finn requests admittance.
    “Open door!” He stared in surprise as the door slid aside and Hanna’s green eyes and freckled smile came floating up the Gut to him. “To what do I owe the pleasure of this visit, my lady?”
    “We began to wonder if you’d done a bunk.”
    He gave her a hand to steady her over the awkward threshold and turned the master’s chair—the only chair—to her. She accepted it as a handhold but did not sit; he crossed his legs and floated in front of her. “Not yet,” he said. “I’m an obsessive guy. Once I start doing something, I can’t stop until I’m satisfied.”
    “So I’ve heard.” That was as close to a mention of sex as he had ever heard Hanna utter.
    Pity, that. Hanna still inspired fantasies. Jordan, that first day, had promised him four tickets in the lottery. Two of them, Maria and Jordan when female, had proved to be all a guy could hope for. Hanna and Reese were not even also-rans. They stayed in the gate.
    “As a complaint?”
    She ignored the question. Hanna was a puzzle. At thirty-two subjective age, she was slightly plumper than was fashionable but very comfy to look at. This was her second voyage into the Big Nothing. Her first had been a routine and uneventful return to a known world, but the ship had encountered some time slip and she had collected eight years’ wages, which had made her independently wealthy. She was always gracious, although she had no use for stupidity. Normally she was so prim and reserved that she seemed almost stupid herself. In fact, she had a laser sense of humor, but most of her barbs would slip by unseen unless one watched for them. She was a genius at interstellar navigation, and when she said that Galactic must have cut dangerous corners to get to Cacafuego first, he believed her.
    “Seth, dear, I came to remind you that the planet is still flying a warning flag. If JC insists you go downside and you obey him, Jordan and I will lose our licenses and ISLA will confiscate the Mighty Mite shares we hope to earn.”
    “I would never let that happen to you!”
    “Then why are you wasting all day up here? Jordan cooked dinner for us.”
    Seth realized that he was starving. “What did she produce?”
    “Chili con pseudo-carne, one of my favorites. I didn’t know it was on the machines’ menu.”
    “Because I don’t like beans,” he admitted. “But if there’s any left, I’ll make an exception.”
    She moved to block the exit and almost overshot it. “First tell me what you’re plotting!”
    “I plot not, Your Firstness.” Private chats with Control did not count, and Hanna could command a replay of those if she wanted to pry. “JC was right in saying we should go in for a close look. Then we can work out what the threat is. Or let Galactic’s beacon tell us, as it should do very shortly. I’m gathering information. After that we can make our own decision.”
    She stared at him suspiciously for a moment, and he sensed the penetrating academic mind she usually concealed. “You think you already know.”
    He nodded. “I’ve a theory. The weather down there is Satanic. Maybe Galactic lost a few shuttles and decided the grapes were sour. If that’s all it is, then the only one at risk will be me.”
    “And Reese.”
    “If they want to come, yes.” Seth still did not expect heroism from the biologist.
    “Be honest. What are your odds of landing safely?”
    “Not bad, if we pick a calm moment. I’m working on