The Return of Santiago: A Myth of the Far Future (23 page)

      
"A body count?"

      
He nodded. "It's really quite oppressive out here, ma'am," he said. "You may not be aware of it, but I can see that you're gasping for air and having trouble swallowing. Let's go back into the restaurant and get you something cold to drink."

      
"Yes," said Matilda, suddenly dizzy. "I think that would be a good idea."

      
She turned to open the door and found herself falling. The Bandit caught her in his arms, set her back on her feet, and escorted her into the restaurant.

      
"Ah, that's much better!" she breathed as they sat at a table. Not only was the temperature comfortable, but she could tell that the oxygen content of the air had been increased.

      
"Your eyes look like they're focusing again," he noted.

      
"Yes, they are." A robot waiter brought two glasses of water to the table. She took one, soaked her napkin in it, dabbed her face and neck, and then took a sip of what was left. "Aren't you having any?"

      
"I'll get around to it," the Bandit assured her. "Right now I'm more concerned with you."

      
"I'll be fine."

      
"I don't know how long you plan to stay on Heliopolis II, ma'am," he said, "but if I were you I'd be very careful about going outside until I'd adjusted to the air and the heat."

      
"And the gravity," she added. "Am I that obvious a newcomer?"

      
He smiled. "I'd remember anyone as pretty as you."

      
She returned his smile, then took another sip of water. She could almost feel the precious liquid spread through her body. Finally, when she felt certain that she wasn't going to black out again, she looked across the table at the Bandit.

      
"You mentioned something about a body count?" she said.

      
He jerked a thumb out the window, where a pair of robots were picking up each Unicorn corpse and placing it carefully on a gravity sled. "They'll report it to the authorities."

      
"And then what?"

      
"And then I'll get paid."

      
"They pay you to kill the native inhabitants of Heliopolis II?" she asked, far more curious than shocked or outraged.

      
"A diamond for every Unicorn," said the Bandit.

      
She let out a low whistle. "You must have quite a pile of diamonds."

      
"A few."

      
"Why don't you just turn your laser cannon on their cities, or wherever it is that they live?"

      
"I don't believe in genocide," he answered. "I'll protect the men who work the mines, and I'll keep the streets safe, but I'm not going to wipe out an entire race, not even for diamonds."

      
All good answers so far. You have the greatest arsenal on the Frontier, you don't believe in genocide, you even protect damsels in distress. Maybe, just maybe, you could be Him.

      
"Why are you called the One-Armed Bandit?" she asked. "I understand the One-Armed, but why the Bandit?"

      
"It was a term for a type of gambling machine. A few people still use it."

      
"So are you a gambler?"

      
"No. I work too hard for my money to lose it at a gaming table."

      
"Then are you a bandit?"

      
"I won't lie, ma'am. I've been a bandit in the past. I may be one again in the future. But I've never robbed anyone who came by their money honestly. At least, I've tried not to."
Better and better. You're willing to be an outlaw under the right circumstances.

      
"And," he continued, "sometimes it's just practical. I'd have no moral qualms about robbing the diamond mines here, given all the abuses the Democracy has committed."

      
"Then why don't you?" she interrupted.

      
He smiled guiltily. "I wouldn't know how to find a diamond in a mine, or how to extract one. And why should I want the Democracy after me when it's so easy to let them pay me for killing Unicorns?"

      
"Your logic is unassailable," agreed Matilda. She paused. "How long is your contract for?"

      
"Contract?"

      
"For, how shall I phrase it, policing the planet?"

      
"I can leave whenever I want," he answered. "As a matter of fact, I was thinking of leaving in the next week or two. A month in this hellhole is plenty." Suddenly he smiled at her. "But I'm willing to stay here as long as you need protection, ma'am—and on Heliopolis II, that translates to as long as you're on the planet."

      
"I appreciate that, Bandit," she said. "Where were you planning to go next?"

      
"I don't know. Wherever they might need someone like me."

      
"I might be able to help you out with that," said Matilda.

      
"Oh?"

      
"I have to speak to a friend first."

      
"Is he here?"

      
"No—but he can get here in a day or two."

      
"Well, I'll look forward to meeting him," said the Bandit. He pushed his chair back and got to his feet. "And now, if you'll excuse me, ma'am, I think it's time for me to go collect my commission." He paused awkwardly. "Perhaps you'd like to have dinner tonight?"

      
"I'd enjoy that very much," said Matilda. "I'm staying at the Tamerlaine."

      
"Fine. I'll call for you about an hour after dark. It'll still be oppressive, but it'll be a little more tolerable."

      
"I'll see you then," said Matilda.

      
He left the restaurant, and she ordered a very tall very cold drink, then another. Finally ready to face the planet again, she paid her tab and passed through the airlock that seemed omnipresent on all the human buildings on Heliopolis II, walked back to the Tamerlaine, and went right to the bar for another cold drink the moment she arrived.

      
Finally she went up to her room, filled the tub with cool water, got out of her sweaty clothes, and carried the subspace radio into the bathroom. She set it down on a stool right next to the tub, then climbed in and luxuriated as the water closed in around her body.

      
After a few minutes, feeling somewhat human again, she put through a call to Dante Alighieri. It took about ten minutes for him to answer, and there was static whenever he spoke, but she was able to converse with him.

      
"How are you doing?" she asked.

      
"All right, I guess. I've incorporated eight more men and women into the poem. How's Heliopolis?"

      
"It's enough to make you get religion and walk the straight and narrow," said Matilda. "Now that I've experienced Heliopolis II, I don't ever want to go to hell."

      
He chuckled. "So where are you and Dimitrios going next?"

      
"Dimitrios isn't with me, and I'm not going anywhere."

      
"Oh?"

      
"But you are," she continued. "You're coming to Heliopolis II as soon as you can."

      
"Why, if it's that horrible a world?"

      
"There's someone I want you to meet."

      
"And who is that?" asked Dante.

      
"Santiago."

Part 3: THE ONE-ARMED BANDIT'S BOOK

15.

      
      
From out of nowhere the One-Armed Bandit

      
      
Built his legend, honed and fanned it.

      
      
In the Book of Fate he burned it—

      
      
Watched it spread til all had learned it.

      
"I've heard about the One-Armed Bandit," remarked Virgil Soaring Hawk as their vehicle sped toward the city.

      
"So you've said," answered Dante Alighieri. "Why do you seem so unhappy about it?"

      
"What I've heard doesn't jibe with Matilda's description of him."

      
"Well, we'll meet him in a few hours and make up our own minds," replied Dante. "In the meantime, I've scribbled down a tentative verse about him."

      
"Let's hear it."

      
Dante read it to him.

      
"What's the Book of Fate?" asked Virgil.

      
"Poetic license."

      
"Read the first two lines again."

      
"From out of nowhere the One-Armed Bandit built his legend, honed and fanned it."

      
Virgil frowned. "The meter's wrong. You got too many syllables in that opening line."

      
"Orpheus never worried about meter when it interfered with truth."

      
"That was Orpheus," said the Injun. "And besides, you don't know what the truth is."

      
"Well, if it's anything remotely like what Matilda thinks it is, I'll polish the verse and maybe fix the meter." He looked out at the bleak landscape. "Considering that she didn't call me to check out Dimitrios of the Three Burners or the Rough Rider, this guy must be something very special."

      
"The Rough Rider?" repeated Virgil, surprised. "Is he still alive?"

      
"After a fashion."

      
"Damn! I'm sorry I missed him."

      
"One of your childhood heroes?" asked Dante.

      
"After a fashion." Suddenly Virgil grinned. "I always wondered how he'd be in bed."

      
"If he doesn't share your unique sense of adventure, I imagine he'd be quite deadly."

      
"Yeah, probably. Still, it would have been fun to find out for sure."

      
A couple of rocks bounced off the vehicle.

      
"Stop!" commanded Dante.

      
The vehicle stopped.

      
"Open the doors!"

      
"My programming will not allow me to open the doors when doing so might put you at risk," answered the mechanical chauffeur.

      
"We're all at risk right now!" snapped Dante. "If someone's going to try to kill me, I want to be able to shoot back."

      
"Correction, sir," said the chauffeur. "This vehicle is impregnable to any weapon currently in the possession of the Unicorns. You are
not
at risk, and will not be unless you step outside."

      
Dante alternated his glare between the chauffeur and the shadows on the nearby hills.

      
"May I proceed, sir?"

      
"Yeah, go ahead," muttered Dante. "No sense staying here."

      
"What would you have done if it had let you out?" asked Virgil. "There could be a hundred of them up in those hills."

      
"And there could be two."

      
"Even so, do you think you're capable of taking even two of them?"

      
"Maybe not," admitted Dante. "But
you
are."

      
"I've got nothing against the Unicorns," said Virgil. "Besides, I'm a lover, not a fighter."

      
"Is that so?" responded Dante irritably. "You've kill four people since you hooked up with me."

      
"But I've been to bed with eleven of various genders and species," answered Virgil, as if that ended the argument.

      
Dante stared at him for a long moment, couldn't think of a reply, and realized with a wry smile that the argument was indeed over.

      
The rest of the journey to town was unremarkable. The landscape appeared dull, but from the comfort of their vehicle they could only guess what it felt like to walk through that heat and gravity while breathing the thin oxygen.

      
"I wonder what the hell he's doing here," remarked Dante.

      
"The place is supposed to be lousy with diamonds," said Virgil. "What better reason is there?"

      
"You know, I could get awfully tired of you and your worldview."

      
"You just don't like the fact that it's so defensible," answered the Injun.

      
"Maybe I'll change my name back to Danny. Then I won't need a Virgil at all."

      
"But your Santiago, when you anoint him, is going to need a Virgil, a Dante, a Matilda . . . all the help he can get."

      
"It's not up to me to anoint him," said Dante.

      
"Sure it is," replied Virgil. "If you write him up in your poem, he's Santiago, and if you don't, he isn't."

      
"It's not that simple."

      
"It's precisely that simple."

      
Dante was about to argue, realized that he didn't really give a damn what Virgil thought, and fell silent. They reached the city in another minute, and were soon climbing out of the vehicle in the Tamerlaine's basement.

      
"Well, let's go get our rooms," said Virgil, walking to the airlift as the vehicle raced turned and sped the garage doors and began racing back to the spaceport.