The Return of Santiago: A Myth of the Far Future (22 page)

      
She was still considering all the possibilities when her ship touched down and she approached the robot Customs officer.

      
"Name?" asked the machine.

      
"Matilda."

      
"Last name?"

      
"No."

      
"Matilda No, may I please scan your passport?"

      
She held her titanium passport disk up to its single glowing eye.

      
"Your passport is in proper order, but your name is not Matilda No. Please step forward so that I may scan your retina."

      
She stepped forward and looked into its eye.

      
"Thank you," said the robot. A sword-like finger shot out, and its needle-thin extremity touched her passport. There was a brief buzzing sound. "I have given you a five-day visa. If you plan to stay longer, you will have to go to the Democracy consulate and have it renewed."

      
"Thank you," said Matilda, starting to step forward. The robot moved to its left, blocking her way.

      
"I am not finished," it said, and she could have sworn she detected a touch of petulance in its mechanical voice. "The world of Heliopolis II accepts Democracy credits, Far London pounds, New Punjab rupees, and Maria Theresa dollars. There is a currency exchange just behind me that can convert 83 different currencies into credits."

      
"I have credits and Maria Theresa dollars," replied Matilda.

      
"You will almost certainly be using personal credit for your larger expenses," ," continued the robot. "The machines at all the commercial ventures on Heliopolis II are tied in to the Bank of Deluros VIII, the Bank of Spica, the Roosevelt III Trust, and the Far London Federated Savings Bank. If you have not established credit with one of these banks through their thousands of planetary branches, you will be required to spend actual currency. Should you try to leave Heliopolis II without settling all your bills, your ship will be impounded and you will be detained by the military police until a satisfactory settlement has been arranged."

      
"Is that all?" asked Matilda.

      
"No," said the machine. "Will you require adrenaline injections while you are here?"

      
"No," she said. "At least, I don't think so."

      
"Do you wish to have your blood oxygenated?"

      
"No."

      
"Will you require intravenous injection of fluids?"

      
"No."

      
"Should you change your mind, all of these services are available, for a nominal fee, at the military infirmary. I am required to warn you that Heliopolis II, while habitable, is considered inhospitable to the race of Man."

      
She waited for the robot to continue, but it fell silent and moved back to its original position.

      
"Is there anything else?" she asked after a minute had passed.

      
"I am finished."

      
"What do I do now?"

      
"Pass through the disease scanner just beyond my booth, and then arrange for your accommodation."

      
"I'd rather go into the city first and see what's there."

      
"You will not want to walk from one hostelry to another. You can examine 360-degree holographs of all of them right here in the spaceport. Then you will hire a vehicle, enter it, instruct the governing computer where to take you, and emerge only after the vehicle is inside the climate-controlled hostelry. After that you are free to do whatever you wish, but I am programmed to warn you not to go outside unless it is essential."

      
"Thanks."

      
She walked to the disease scanner, passed through it without incident, checked the holographs of the human city's seven hotels and choose one called the Tamerlaine, then walked to a row of vehicles. The first in line opened its doors as she approached. Once she was seated it slid the doors shut, asked her if she was the woman who had booked her room at the Tamerlaine, and then raced forward. Just as she was sure it was going to crash into a wall the entrance irised just long enough to let her through, then snapped shut behind her.

      
They sped across the dry, dusty, reddish, featureless countryside. As they circled a small hill a heavy rock, obviously thrown, probably by an irate native, crashed down on the windshield and bounced off without leaving a mark. She suspected that nothing short of a pulse gun could put a dent in the vehicle, and relaxed during the rest of the ten-minute trip. The vehicle approached the Tamerlaine, and just as at the airport, the wall spread apart at the last instant to let it enter, then shut tightly behind it.

      
She emerged into the cool, dry air of the Tamerlaine's garage, instructed a liveried robot to carry her luggage to the front desk, then fell into step behind it. She found the gravity oppressive, but manageable.

      
The reception clerk was ready for her. He'd already run a credit check through the spaceport, and had assigned her a room overlooking the garden behind the hotel.

      
"Have my bags put in my room," said Matilda. "I'm going to take a look around first."

      
"Outside?" said the clerk. "I wouldn't advise it."

      
"I won't be long," she assured him.

      
She walked to the elegantly-designed airlock that passed for the front entrance, and found she couldn't get the outer door to open until the door behind her had sealed itself shut.

      
Two steps outside the door she knew why. The heat was oppressive, the air almost unbreathable. Her dancing had kept her in excellent shape, but she found herself panting before she'd walked thirty paces. The air was as thin as mountain air at three thousand meters, the heat was like an oven, and the gravity pulled fiercely at her.

      
Still, while Heliopolis II was horribly uncomfortable, it wasn't deadly. After all, she told herself, men worked here every day. (Between the conditions and the Unicorns, she hoped they were getting hazard pay.)

      
She decided to continue her tour of the small city while she was still relatively fresh, turned a corner—and found out what a Unicorn looked like close up.

      
There were eight of the creatures walking in her direction. Each stood about seven feet tall, though they were so stocky and muscular that they looked shorter. Their arms were jointed in odd places, but bulged with muscles. Their thighs were massive, as they would have to be on beings that had evolved in this gravity. Their heads were not quite humanoid, not quite equine, ellipsoid in shape, each with a rudimentary horn growing out of the forehead. They didn't wear much clothing, but they were loaded down with weapons: pistols, swords, daggers, a few that she'd never seen before but which looked quite formidable.

      
She stepped aside to let them pass. They paid her no attention—until one of them brushed against her shoulder as he walked by. He immediately halted and spoke harshly to her in his native tongue.

      
"I can't understand you," said Matilda.

      
He said something else, louder this time.

      
"I left my t-pack at my hotel," she replied. "Do any of you have a Terran t-pack?"

      
Suddenly the other Unicorns joined the one that was yelling at her. Three of them began talking at once.

      
She pointed to her ear, then shook her head, to show she couldn't understand what they were saying.

      
This seemed to anger them. One of them approached her ominously, growling something in his own tongue. When she made no response, he reached out and shoved her. She gave ground, barely keeping her balance in the unfamiliar gravity.

      
She looked up and down the street. There were no Men in sight.

      
Another alien pushed her.
This is ridiculous. I'm going to die on this godforsaken world, not because I'm a thief with a price on her head, but because I left my t-pack in my room.

      
They formed a semi-circle around her and began approaching her again—

      
—and suddenly a man she hadn't realized was there stepped forward and stood in front of her, pushing her gently behind him.

      
"Stand still, ma'am," he said.

      
"It's all a misunderstanding," said Matilda. "I left my t-pack in my room, and they don't understand me."

      
"They understand every word you're saying," said the man. "Please step back a couple of feet. If they charge, I may not be able to hold my ground." He looked the Unicorns. "But I'll kill the first three or four of you who try."

      
Matilda noticed that the man was unarmed.
Great! I'm being attacked by aliens and protected by a lunatic.

      
"You've had your fun," said the man. "Now get the hell out of here."

      
The Unicorns didn't move—but three other Unicorns, seeing the tense little scene, came over to join their brethren.

      
"What will you do now?" grated one of the Unicorns in a guttural Terran.

      
"We will kill both of you!" growled another.

      
"And when we are through, we will find more Men to kill."

      
"No you won't," said the man, never raising his voice. "You'll disperse right now, or the survivors will wish you had."

      
"Death to all Men!" screamed one of the new arrivals.

      
"Don't let them frighten you, ma'am," said the man softly. "If you're carrying a weapon, don't let them see it. It's better that they concentrate on me."
I have no problem with that. But what am I going to do after they kill you?

      
"Move to the right, ma'am," he continued without ever taking his eyes off the Unicorns. "The one on the left looks the most aggressive. He'll be the first to charge."

      
And almost as the words left the man's mouth, the Unicorn on the far left, the one who had initially yelled at Matilda, launched himself at the man.

      
The man pointed a finger at the Unicorn—and suddenly the Unicorn literally melted in mid-charge. The other Unicorns began screaming, and two more charged. The man pointed again; this time energy pulses shot out of his hand, embedding themselves in the Unicorns' chests.

      
Then the man was striding among them. Two fell to sledgehammer blows, another to a karate kick. He simply pointed to all but one of the remainder and fried them instantly.

      
He walked up to the last Unicorn, planted his feet firmly, and looked into the creature's eyes.

      
"I'm letting you live," he announced. "Go tell your friends that this lady is under my protection. To offend or threaten her is to offend or threaten me, and you saw what happens when you offend or threaten me." He paused. "Nod if you understand."

      
The Unicorn nodded.

      
"Now go back to your people and give them my message."

      
The Unicorn literally ran down the street and disappeared around a corner, as the man turned back to Matilda.

      
"Are you all right, ma'am?" he asked solicitously.

      
"I'm fine," she said. "You were awesome!"

      
"All in a day's work, ma'am," he replied.

      
"My name's Matilda," she said, extending her hand. "I want to thank you for saving my life."

      
He took her hand and shook it. "I'm glad I was here to do it." He gestured to the restaurant behind her. "I saw them harassing you from in there. By the way, my name's—"

      
"I know who you are," she said. "The One-Armed Bandit."

      
He smiled. "You're well-informed, ma'am."

      
"What should I call you?"

      
"I've got more names than I can remember," he said. "Why not just call me Bandit and be done with it?"

      
"I'll be happy to." She stared at him. "That's some set of arms you have!"

      
He flexed his right arm. "This one's real." He tapped his left arm with the fingers of his right hand; it made a drumming sound. "This one's the fake. I lost the original arm in the war against the Sett."

      
"'Fake' is a feeble word for it," enthused Matilda. "It's the most impressive weapon I've seen! What can it do?"

      
"I don't like to talk about it," he said uncomfortably. "Most people think I'm some kind of freak."

      
"Not me," Matilda assured him. "And I do have a reason for asking."

      
He shrugged. "All right, ma'am," he said. "Depending on how I manipulate my wrist and fingers, it can be a burner, a pulse gun, a screecher, or—if I'm carrying the proper munitions—even a laser cannon."

      
"Amazing!" she said. "And you act as if the heat and gravity don't even affect you!"

      
"Oh, I feel 'em, ma'am," he said with a smile. "I just don't like to let
them
know it."

      
She looked at the bodies littering the street. "I'm surprised the law hasn't shown up yet."

      
"They don't have any reason to," said the Bandit. "Someone'll be along presently to do a body count and dispose of them."