The Return of Santiago: A Myth of the Far Future (56 page)

      
"Mine would be: run like hell," said the Indian.

      
"That's why I'm Santiago and you're not."

      
Dante hadn't taken his eyes off the screen. "Seven degrees Celsius, 1.17 times Standard gravity, not much oxygen." He sighed deeply. "So you can't use your speed, you can't stand a sustained battle, and you're not going to be able to work up a sweat. Are you sure you don't want to wait until I can mobilize some of the people on Hadrian?"

      
"If
I
can't defeat them,
they
can't either."

      
"I see that being Santiago is not necessarily conducive to modesty," noted Virgil wryly.

      
"They've destroyed entire armies," shot back Silvermane. "There's no reason to believe 200 yokels from Hadrian will turn the tide of battle. I'm the best there is. Either I can beat them or I can't." He turned to Moby Dick. "It's about time you told me what you know about them."

      
"I know they're undefeated," said the albino.

      
"So is every man out here who carries a weapon."

      
"They don't carry weapons."

      
"Oh?" said Silvermane. "What did they to get you to work for them?"

      
"Nothing."

      
Silvermane's face mirrored his contempt. "You gave in without a fight?"

      
"They didn't conquer me," answered Moby Dick. "They dealt with me."

      
"And you dealt with the enemy."

      
"I thought the Democracy was the enemy," said Moby Dick. "Or is the enemy whoever you're mad at this week?"

      
"You're here under sufferance," said Silvermane coldly. "Don't forget it."

      
"Fine," said the albino. "Give me back my imploder and I'll leave."

      
Silvermane stared coldly at him but made no reply.

      
"Got 'it!" said Dante, still looking at the screen. "Increase the image and sharpen it," he commanded, and suddenly a small fortress came into view. It was made of local stone, poorly constructed, unimpressive from any angle. "Bring that up in three dimensions, and give us a 360-degree view of it, then give us an overhead."

      
"That doesn't look like it'd keep anyone out," remarked Virgil, studying the image.

      
"It won't," said Moby Dick.

      
"Then what—?"

      
"They have hostages," interrupted the albino. "It was built to keep
them
in."

      
"Computer, take us down," commanded Silvermane. "Land us 400 yards due south of the fortress that's on your screen."

      
"The terrain is too uneven," replied the ship. "There is a flat area that will accommodate my bulk 427 yards south-southeast of the fortress. Will that be acceptable?"

      
"Do it."

      
The ship broke out of orbit and headed toward the planet. A few moments later it touched down on the precise spot the computer had pinpointed.

      
"Computer," said Silvermane, "I want you to analyze the area immediately surrounding the ship."

      
"Done."

      
"I oxygenated my blood just before we took off from Hadrian II, and I have injected adrenaline into my system. I've let you take readings of both. Is there anything else I should do to prepare myself for extreme physical exertion on the planet's surface?"

      
"Please wait while I scan you . . . done. I recommend the following vitamins and amphetamines . . ." The computer reeled off a small catalog of pills.

      
"Get 'em ready," said Silvermane, getting up and walking toward the galley. A small packet of pills appeared and he swallowed them all, washing them down with a mouthful of distilled water.

      
Then he turned to his three shipmates.

      
"I didn't want you here," he said, "and I won't waste any effort protecting you. If you have any survival instincts at all, you'll remain onboard." He looked at each in turn. "I can't force you to behave intelligently. Just know that if you climb down onto the planet's surface, you're on your own—and I don't want any of you near me."

      
"Agreed," said Moby Dick.

      
"I got no problem with that," added Virgil.

      
Dante was silent.

      
"I'm waiting, Rhymer," said Silvermane.

      
"If there's a chance to rescue September Morn, I'm going to try."

      
"No."

      
"That
is
what we're here for," insisted Dante.

      
"We're here for me to face the aliens."

      
"Only because they kidnapped September Morn," said Dante. "There's no other reason for you to be here or to have ever contacted them."

      
"I'm here because no one challenges Santiago."

      
"Yeah," said Dante, unimpressed. "Well,
I'm
here because they've kidnapped the woman who saved my life."

      
Silvermane stared at him for a long time. It was a stare designed to make him back off. Dante stared right back, unblinking.

      
Finally the tall man shrugged. "Have it your way," he said, breaking eye contact. "Just make sure you don't get between me and them."

      
"I don't intend to."

      
Silvermane turned back to Moby Dick. "And there's nothing more you can tell me about them?"

      
"Their conquests are a matter of record. I didn't require any demonstrations."

      
"Maybe you should have. Then at least I'd know exactly what I'm going up against."

      
"Well, if I'd know you felt that way," replied the albino, "I'd have asked them to level Trajan so I could tell you what to expect."

      
Silvermane glared at him. "You're not much help."

      
"I gave you the imploder," Moby Dick shot back "Show me anyone else who's helped you as much."

      
Silvermane made no reply. Instead, he picked up the molecular imploder, checked his pistols one last time, then commanded the hatch to open, and ordered the stairs to transport him to the planet's surface.

      
Dante was about to follow him when he felt Moby Dick's hand on his arm.

      
"Let him get a few hundred yards ahead of you," cautioned the albino.

      
"Then you
do
know what their powers are!" said Dante accusingly.

      
Moby Dick shook his head. "No, I truly don't. But if they're formidable enough to conquer an army, you really don't want to be standing next to him."

      
"I'll be careful," Dante assured him. "I'm not here to fight anyone. I just want to rescue September Morn."

      
"You may not have any choice once you leave the ship."

      
"If Santiago risks his life, how can his followers do any less?"

      
"That man's not Santiago," said Moby Dick with absolute conviction.

      
"He's got to be," said Dante. He gave the albino a weak smile. "We're all out of candidates." He turned to Virgil. "Are you coming?"

      
"It all depends," said the Indian.

      
"On what?"

      
"On you," replied Virgil.

      
"On me?" said Dante, surprised.

      
"
Him
I don't follow;
you
I do."

      
"He's
my
leader," said the poet. "I'm going out."

      
"Then I guess I'm going out too," said Virgil unhappily.

      
"Then I guess you are," said Dante. He turned to Moby Dick. "How about you?"

      
"They won't harm me. I work for them, remember?"

      
"Then let's go."

      
Moby Dick looked out. "He could have set it down closer. That's a long way to walk in
any
gravity."

      
"What are you talking about?" sand Dante. "We're only a quarter of a mile away."

      
"When you're built like me, a quarter of a mile it too much even at Earth Standard gravity," muttered Moby Dick unhappily. "I should have brought a gravity mat."

      
"It's too late now," said the poet.

      
"You two go ahead," said the albino. "I'll follow along at my own pace."

      
Dante and Virgil stepped through the hatch, waited until the top stair gently lowered them to the ground, looked around to get their bearings, and spotted Silvermane walking toward the fortress. The poet wasn't inclined to wait until the tall man got there before starting to cross the planet's surface, so he headed off to his right on the assumption that he'd be just as safe, or unsafe, 200 yards to Silvermane's right as 200 yards behind him.

      
There was no sign of life in the fortress, and Dante began wondering if it was a trap.

      
He must have said it aloud, because Virgil responded: "Of course it's a trap. I just don't know what kind. If the place is as deserted as it looks, it could be rigged to blow up the second Silvermane sets foot in it."

      
"His name's Santiago," muttered Dante, never taking his eyes off the fortress.

      
And suddenly, standing in front of it, was a large blue being, some ten feet tall, vaguely humanoid in shape, very broad and heavily muscled, totally nude. Its eyes were large and glowed a brilliant yellow, its nose was a quartet of horizontal slits, its mouth seemed to be filled with scores of brownish, decaying teeth, its ears were shaped like small trumpets. It wore no weapons.

      
"Where the hell did
that
come from?" whispered Virgil.

      
"It just materialized."

      
"So is it Tweedledee or Tweedledum?"

      
"How the hell do I know?" snapped Dante.

      
Silvermane took a step closer. "You wanted me," he said. "I'm here. Where's the woman?"

      
The creature made no reply, and suddenly the imploder was in Silvermane's hands, aimed at the blue being. Its lips still didn't move, but the four humans seemed to hear a deep voice within their heads.

      
"I am the Tweedle,"
it said.
"You have intruded upon my world."

      
"There are two of you," said Silvermane, looking around. "Where's the other one?"

      
"He is here when I need him,"
said the Tweedle.

      
"Turn over the woman, or you're going to need him pretty damned soon," said Silvermane.

      
"You think to impress me with your talk?"

      
"No. I think to kill you with my weapon."

      
"Alone, I am a target,"
said the Tweedle.
"But I am never alone."

      
And suddenly it seemed to split right down the middle. An instant later there were two identical Tweedles, both confronting Silvermane. They moved a few feet apart as they spoke, silently but in unison, with similar thought not identical telepathic voices.

      
"I am the last of my kind,"
said the Tweedles.
"All the others died in warfare or of disease or old age. I alone have survived, for I alone have learned how to release my doppelganger, and by freeing him I have freed all the powers that lay dormant within myself and every other member of my race. Together there is nothing we cannot do. Does the terrain hurt your tender feet? Then behold."

      
The Tweedles moved their left arms in a theatrical gesture, and suddenly the ground between the fortress and the ship was totally flat.

      
"Do you peer in the darkness with dilated pupils?"
continued the Tweedles.

      
Suddenly the area was bathed in light, so bright that the humans had to squint to adjust to it.

      
"Perhaps you shiver with the cold."

      
Another gesture, and suddenly the temperature was a pleasant 22 degrees Celsius.

      
"We would change the gravity and the atmosphere, but it would deleteriously affect you after the various medications that we see you have taken into your body."
They smiled at him.
"Do you still wish to match your strength and skills against ours?"

      
"All I've seen are some parlor tricks," said Silvermane, trying his best to sound unimpressed. "You could have rigged them all before we arrived. But if you will produce the woman and turn her over to me, and promise never to bother her or her planet again, I will leave in peace."

      
"Is he crazy?" whispered Virgil to Dante.

      
"He's bluffing," answered the poet just as softly.

      
"You can't bluff these two," said Moby Dick, who had just joined them seconds ago. The albino was panting heavily from his exertions.

      
"You are a very courageous being. But we have killed courageous beings before."