The Return of Santiago: A Myth of the Far Future (57 page)

      
"You've never faced Joshua Silvermane before," said the tall man.

      
"Moby Dick was right," muttered Dante. "He'll never be Santiago."

      
"Makes no difference," whispered Virgil. "They're going to kill him no matter what name he gives them."

      
Silvermane aimed the imploder at the being on his left. The weapon hummed with power, but had no effect.

      
He instantly dropped the imploder, drew his pistols and began emptying them, one into each of the Tweedles.

      
The bullets didn't pass through them, for the Tweedles weren't transparent images with no substance. The bullets entered them, left discernable entry holes, but had no more effect that the imploder. Their bodies simply absorbed whatever he threw at them.

      
Then each of the being slowly raised an arm. Nothing more than that. But Silvermane dropped to his knees, obviously in agony. The pistols dropped from his hands and clattered noisily on the rocky ground.

      
The one on the left made a sudden gesture, and blood began pouring out of Silvermane's ears. He staggered to his feet to face his attackers. The one on the right slowly closed his hand into a fist, and Silvermane clawed at his chest, as if the alien were squeezing his heart.

      
Finally, with one last effort that took all his remaining strength, Silvermane pulled a knife out of his boot and hurled himself at the creature on his right—and froze in mid-air, his body suspended four feet above the ground, his knife hand extended, his perfect face filled with hatred. The two creatures made one final gesture in unison, and Joshua Silvermane fell to the ground, headless. His head wasn't severed; it simply vanished. His body twitched once or twice, then lay still as bright red blood gushed out of it.

      
"Jesus!" muttered Dante. "Did you ever see anything like that?"

      
"Only during bad trips," answered Virgil, unable to tear his eyes away from the scene.

      
Moby Dick stepped forward. "I tried to warn him," said the albino.

      
"That is because you are a rational being, and hence a coward. It stands to reason that you could not dissuade this Silvermane, who was a brave and hence irrational being, from confronting us."

      
"That's not quite the way I would have worded it," said Moby Dick.

      
"How you would have worded it is of no interest to us."
The creatures turned toward Dante and Virgil.
"Who are you, and why are you here?"

      
"I am a friend of September Morn," said Dante. "I want to be sure that she is in good health, and is being well-treated."

      
"I'm with him," added Virgil.

      
"She is healthy."

      
"May I see her?"

      
"No. We will permit you to gather your companion's body and leave Kabal III with it. You may not return."

      
"Before we do, I have a question," said Virgil.

      
All eyes turned to him.

      
"Which of you is Tweedledee and which is Tweedledum, and how can I tell you apart?"

      
"We did not choose those names."

      
"I'd like to know anyway, just out of curiosity."

      
"Your curiosity is of no concern to us."

      
And, as quickly and easily as they had split in two, they now joined in a fraction of a second and became simply the Tweedle once more.

      
"What do you propose to do with September Morn?" persisted Dante.

      
"We will give Hadrian II 20 Galactic Standard days to ransom her for five billion credits."

      
"That's a lot of money," said Dante. "What if they can't come up with it?"
"Then we shall kill her."

40.

      
      
He felt the call to serve his God,

      
      
His indiscretions quickly ceased.

      
      
Now sinners all are threatened by

      
      
Deuteronomy Priest.

      
"Do you get the feeling we're back where we started?" asked Virgil, as he sat in the Fat Chance with Dante and Moby Dick, sipping a drink and watching a trio of Canphorites squabbling over the result of a nearby
jabob
game. "We don't have a Santiago, we don't have September Morn, Dimitrios is dead, and who the hell knows where Matilda is? Maybe we should have anointed Tyrannosaur Bailey and let it go at that. Look at the time we could have saved."

      
"Shut up," said Dante.

      
"Every time I've opened my mouth since we got here you've told me to shut up," complained Virgil.

      
"I'm thinking."

      
"Leave him alone," said Moby Dick. "Your friend's at his best when he's thinking."

      
"I don't notice that thinking's done us any good," said Virgil.

      
"That's because you're a fool," said the albino.

      
"Could be," agreed Virgil. "But what gives you the right to say so?"

      
"You've still got an organization. You've got millions of credits. You've got a couple of hundred operatives. And from what I can tell, you've eliminated two unsuccessful candidates for the top job. That's not bad for six or eight months, or however long the poet's been out here."

      
"We're not in the business of eliminating Santiagos," said Virgil. "We're trying like all hell to find one."

      
"One will manifest himself," said Moby Dick. "And if not, you can still plunder the Democracy six ways to Sunday."

      
"That's more or less my own line of thought," said Virgil. "We're been spending too much time searching and not enough plundering."

      
"Shut up," said Dante.

      
"Just what the hell is your problem, Rhymer?" demanded Virgil angrily.

      
"We need a diversion," said Dante to no one in particular.

      
"What are you talking about?"

      
"September Morn."

      
"Forget her. You saw Tweedledee and Tweedledum. There ain't no way you're going to get her back without five billion credits. Either the planet antes up or she's dead meat."

      
"Shut up."

      
"Fuck you!" snapped Virgil. "Now that I know what you've been thinking about, I don't feel any need to kowtow to you. Even if you steal her back, all you've done is sign a death warrant for the whole goddamned planet."

      
"You're a fool," said Dante.

      
The Indian looked annoyed. "Maybe you should talk to the whale here, since that's all either of you can say to me."

      
"Do you really think you can rescue her without catastrophic repercussions?" asked Moby Dick.

      
"Of course," said Dante distractedly. "Avoiding repercussions is the easy part."

      
"No more drinks for him," said Virgil. "He's had enough."

      
"Shut up," said Moby Dick.

      
"Are you guys brothers?" said Virgil disgustedly.

      
"Go out back and molest one of the servo-mechs," said Moby Dick. "I'll let you know if you're needed."

      
Virgil stared at him. "You're kidding, right?"

      
"Am I smiling?" replied the albino.

      
"I never had a servo-mech before," said Virgil. "How does one . . . ah . . . ?"

      
"You're a creative sort of pervert. You'll figure it out."

      
Virgil got to his feet. "Talk some sense into him while I'm gone." He headed off toward the back door, and a moment later was out of the building.

      
Moby Dick ordered his chair to glide closer to Dante's. Once there he laid a hand on the poet's shoulder. "Take a break, Rhymer. All you're going to do is give yourself a headache. There's no way to beat the Tweedle."

      
"Oh, I know how to do that," said Dante distractedly. "It's the other details I'm having trouble with."

      
The albino stared at him. "You
really
think you know how to defeat them?"

      
"Yeah—but I have to go to Kabal III first."

      
"Go back? Why?"

      
"I've got to get September Morn off the world before I do anything else." Dante paused, still staring at his untouched drink. "
That's
the tricky part. Everything else follows from that."

      
"If you know how to kill Tweedledee and Tweedledum, kill 'em first and then get the girl."

      
Dante shook his head. "I can't."

      
"I don't suppose you'd care to tell me why?"

      
"Wait until I work it all out," said Dante. "Damn! I wish Matilda was here. She can spot the flaws in a scheme quicker than anyone."

      
"So send for her."

      
"It'll take her seven or eight days to get out here, and if I'm wrong, we don't have time to come up with a different scheme. They gave Hadrian 20 days to come up with the money—and that was two days ago."

      
"You can talk to her on the subspace radio," suggested Moby Dick.

      
"I will, once I work out all the details."

      
"Just how the hell many details are there? Either you can rescue her or you can't."

      
Dante finally looked up, as if paying attention to him for the first time. "You don't understand," he said at last.

      
"Enlighten me."

      
"Rescuing September Morn is just the first step."

      
"And killing the aliens is the last, I know."

      
Dante shook his head. "No, that's just another step along the way."

      
"What the hell are you talking about?" asked Moby Dick.

      
"I came out here to accomplish something," said Dante. "I've been so busy trying to do it piecemeal that I lost sight of the whole."

      
"All right," said Moby Dick. "I know better than to argue with a genius when he's working."

      
"I'm no genius," said Dante. "I'm just a guy who doesn't want to go back to being Danny Briggs."

      
"Who's Danny Briggs?"

      
"An unimportant thief who never did a memorable thing in his life."

      
There was a brief silence.

      
"You mentioned a diversion before," said the albino. "What kind of diversion? Is there some way I can help?"

      
"I need something or someone that can entice the Tweedles a few hundred miles from their fortress," replied Dante. He grimaced. "That's going under the assumption that they can't teleport. If they can change locations instantaneously, then I can't save her."

      
"Or kill them."

      
Dante looked annoyed. "Killing them is the easy part."

      
"There are a couple of million corpses strewn around the Frontier that would disagree about killing them being the easy part," said Moby Dick.

      
"They went about it wrong," said Dante. "If I can get them 300 miles away, maybe they won't see me land. Even if they
can
teleport, they have to have a reason to do so. If they're far enough away, they won't have one."

      
"We can fly low and drop some explosives 300 miles away," said the albino. "Or 500, or 800, if that's what you want."

      
Dante shook his head. "Then they'll come after the ship. I have to get them to leave the fortress and give me time to get September Morn out."

      
Suddenly Moby Dick smiled. "I think I've got the solution to your problems."

      
Dante looked at him expectantly.

      
"Did you ever hear of Deuteronomy Priest?" continued the huge man.

      
"No."

      
"He preaches all over the Inner Frontier. Last I heard, maybe three weeks ago, he wasn't too far from here. I think I can have him on Hadrian in two Standard days, maybe less if his preaching has taken him in this direction."

      
"Then what?"

      
The albino grinned. "Then we turn him loose on Kabal III."

      
"There's got to be more to it than that," said Dante. "Tell me about this Deuteronomy Priest."

      
"He's a hellfire-and-damnation preacher the likes of which I'll wager you've never seen. Used to be a male prostitute, of all things. Then he got the call, and now no sinner is safe from his ministrations, which mostly take the form of rather unpleasant predictions about the particularly nasty afterlife awaiting you if you don't repent." Moby Dick paused. "And since almost no alien has ever been baptized, they've become his special project."