The Return of Santiago: A Myth of the Far Future

by Mike Resnick

  "I'm happy curing the ills of the Frontier one by one," said Silvermane. "I don't know how I'd feel about trying to cure them wholesale."

  "I can't make you," said Dante. "I just want you to think about it."

  "You say that, but what you mean is that you want me to think about killing the One-Armed Bandit—who, I should point out, wouldn't need killing if you hadn't chosen him to be your secret hero."

  "I really don't want him killed if it can be avoided, if we can find some other way."

  "How many deposed tyrants are walking around these days?" asked Silvermane. "If he's got the bit between his teeth, if he believes in what he's doing, there's only one way to replace him, and we both know what that is."

  "You're a cold son of a bitch, you know that?" said Dante irritably.

  "I'm in a cold business."

  "You're not in a business at all. You don't demand pay for what you do." Dante paused and studied him carefully. "How do we know you won't be as much of a fanatic as the Bandit is?"

  "You don't."

  "What do you think?" said Dante.

  "I have no idea," admitted Silvermane. "I don't think I'm a fanatic, and I don't think I can be corrupted—but until you give me a cause I'm willing to die for and combine it with absolute power, how can I answer your question with any certainty?"

  "You just did," said Dante. "I trust you."

  "I thank you for your trust, but I haven't said I'm interested in the job yet."

  "I know. Take some time and think about it. We'll explain how we're setting up an organization, what connections we've established so far." Dante paused. "But don't take too long. If he goes and slaughters another 300 kids, I'll have to take him on myself, and I don't have the chance of a snowball in hell."

  "Then why do it?"

  "Because he's my responsibility," answered Dante. "Because those kids would be alive if it wasn't for me."

  "If I agree to become Santiago, I think we're going to get along just fine," said Silvermane.

  "When do you want me to learn about the operation?"

  "The first thing you'd better tell me about is the One-Armed Bandit," said Silvermane. "On the not-unreasonable assumption that he has no intention of resigning, he's the first obstacle, and if he can't be overcome, none of the rest matters. I've heard about that prosthetic arm of his, but I don't really know anything about it. Just how lethal is it?"

  "Depending how he's using it, he pinpoint a target no bigger than a coin at 600 yards, or he can take out a city block."

  "Is he inclined to shoot first or talk first?"

  "Once upon a time he talked first," said Dante. "These days I don't know."

  "Left arm or right?"

  "Left."

  "Any vision problems?" asked Silvermane.

  "Not to my knowledge."

  "Okay, I'll think about it."

  "Where will we find you?"

  "I'll be leaving for New Pategonia in an hour. That's about sixteen lightyears from here. You can find me at the Jong Palace."

  "That's a casino?"

  Silvermane smiled. "A hotel."

  "With Henry—that's the Black Death—dead, we have no reason to stay here. We might as well go to New Pategonia with you."

  "There's no room in my ship."

  "I meant that we'll leave Tosca when you do."

  "All right. I'll see you there." He walked to the door, then turned back to them. "If I decide to do it, you won't regret asking me. I'll be the best Santiago I can be." Then he was out in the street.

  "Jesus, I hope so!" muttered Dante.

  29.

  Simon Ten Broek loves to draw attention;

  Simon Ten Broek spent years in bleak detention;

  Simon Ten Broek, with crimes too vile to mention;

  Simon Ten Broek won't live to see his pension.

  New Pategonia was everything that Tosca was not: green, temperate, pleasant, criss-crossed by rivers, framed with snow- capped mountains. It had been developed into a resort world by the cartel that had laid claim to it. They erected a ski lodge atop the snowiest mountain, then leased out the rest of the range, until the place was dotted with ski facilities. Next they expanded downward, building half a dozen fishing camps along the meandering rivers. Soon a quartet of towns sprang up, and before long the secluded little world was actually bustling with permanent and transient populations.

  The largest of the towns, quickly approaching city status, was Belvidere, and it was there that Dante and his companions found the Jong Palace. After registering for a room, Virgil immediately went off by himself in search of a little professional love, hopefully from a different species, and Dante and Matilda sat down in a corner of the lobby while a small furry alien loaded their luggage onto an oversized airsled and carefully guided it up to their rooms.

  "Have you done any further thinking about it?" asked the poet when he was sure no one could overhear them.

  "That's all I've been thinking about," answered Matilda.

  "Me too."

  "And what have you concluded?"

  "If the Bandit goes out and kills more innocent bystanders, kids or adults, it makes no difference. We'll have to stop him, and like it or not Joshua Silvermane is the only weapon we've got."

  "I keep thinking that if we found the Bandit and Silvermane in less than four months, maybe we could find the perfect Santiago in a year or two," said Matilda.

  "Maybe we could," admitted Dante. "Or maybe we found him already."

  "Silvermane?"

  "Maybe."

  Matilda frowned. "Surely you're not referring to the Bandit?" she said.

  "I don't know. Maybe I was a little too full of myself when I thought this thing up. What special insight do I have into what it takes to be Santiago? Hell, maybe killing them off before they grow up to be soldiers and cops and bounty hunters is the right way to go about it."

  "You don't believe that for a moment," she said firmly.

  "I don't know what I believe any more," he admitted. "Except that maybe it was a bit presumptuous, trying to force my will on the history of the Inner Frontier. No one told the first Santiago that it was time to become Santiago. He wasn't manipulated. He just did it, because it was his destiny." He sighed deeply. "Hell, I don't even know what my destiny is. Why am I screwing around trying to tell them theirs?"

  She stared long and hard at him. "I don't like it when you're like this."

  "Like what?"

  "Full of self-doubt," said Matilda. "From the outset, you've always known what you wanted to do, and how you planned to do it. This isn't like you."

  "I stood back and took a good look at what I've done," he replied. "A lot of people are dead who wouldn't be if it weren't for me."

  "You didn't kill them."

  "They're dead just the same. Not just the children, though that's the worst of it—but I killed the Candy Man and Jackrabbit Willowby just as surely as if I aimed the weapons and pulled the triggers."

  "They deserved to die."

  "I'm not arguing that," said Dante. "But the fact remains that if I'd stayed on Bailiwick and never come to the Frontier, they'd still be alive. I'm the reason they're all dead, maybe the only reason."

  "So are you quitting?"

  "No, I'm not quitting. But I've got to be certain this time. I can't keep choosing the wrong man and turning him loose on the galaxy."

  "It just means you care, and that you're giving it a lot of thought."

  "It means I've got a lot to make amends for." He looked at her. "And it means that I can't make any more mistakes."

  "If it was anyone's mistake, it was mine," she protested. "Don't forget—I'm the one who got you to come to Heliopolis to meet the Bandit in the first place."

  "And I'm the one who approved him."

  "There's enough guilt to go around," said Matilda.

  "Yeah, I suppose so," agreed Dante. He got to his feet. "Come on. I'll buy you a drink."

  "You're on," she said, relieved that the conversation w
as over.

  "In fact," he continued, "instead of going to the hotel bar, why don't we go out for that drink and take a look around town? I've never been to New Pategonia before, and I'll probably never come back. It'd be a shame not to spend at least a couple of hours getting the flavor of the place."

  "Sounds good to me," said Matilda, taking his arm and walking out into the street with him.

  "It's really quite a lovely world," said Dante approvingly. "Fishing, skiing, skating—they probably even have hunting safaris."

  "And even though there's snow surrounding us, it's still very pleasant down here in the valley," she added.

  "Let's walk up and down the street and see what kind of shops they have."

  "What are you looking for?"

  "Anything I can steal." She looked annoyed, and he smiled at her. "Oh, don't worry, I won't—but a lifetime's habits are hard to lose. I still like to look."

  They walked down the block, reached a corner, and were about to cross to the other side of the street when Dante heard a familiar voice behind him.

  "Hi, Danny boy," it said. "You've led me one hell of a merry chase."

  "Shit!" muttered Dante, freezing.

  "Turn around very slowly," continued the voice, "and keep your hands out from your body."

  Dante did as he was ordered. "You're a long way from home, Commander Balsam," he said when he finally was able to face his antagonist.

  "It's just plain Balsam now," said the big man, aiming his burner between Dante's eyes. "Things got so dull back on Bailiwick after you left that I quit my job and became a bounty hunter." He paused. "You've been a busy boy, Danny. I've been on your tail for months now, but all I keep finding are dead bodies."

  Matilda began edging away from Dante, and suddenly Balsam trained his weapon on her. "That's far enough."

  "You want him, not me," said Matilda.

  "You're with Danny Briggs," said Balsam. "That's enough for me. You're going to stay with us until I find out if there's any paper on you." Dante took a tentative step toward him. "Watch it, Danny. You're wanted dead or alive. It makes no difference to me which way I bring you back."

  "You've really been following me since I left Bailiwick?" asked Dante.

  "A few weeks later," said Balsam. "You leave an awful easy trail to follow."

  "I'd totally forgotten I was wanted back in the Democracy," admitted Danny. "I've had more important things on my mind."

  "Always thinking—that's my Danny." He paused. "Where's the Indian?"

  "What Indian?"

  "Don't play stupid, Danny. It's unbecoming, and it doesn't fit you at all." Balsam looked around. "My information says that you usually travel with an Indian."

  "I don't see one," said Dante. "Do you?"

  "No, but after I take possession of that poem you're supposed to be writing, I'll figure out who he is and find him." He smiled. "Am I in it?"

  Dante shook his head. "I only write about interesting people."

  "You cut me to the quick," said Balsam with mock pain. Suddenly he laughed. "Hell, I'll write myself into it after I take it away from you."

  "You're not touching it," said Dante firmly.

  "We'll see about that," said Balsam. Suddenly he grinned. "You're only worth 60,000 credits this month, Danny. How much is it worth to you if I let you keep your damned poem and you go deeper and deeper into the Frontier?" He paused. "I'm not saying I'll never come after you again, but I'll give you a 60-day head start. How does that sound?"

  Danny looked past Balsam and saw Joshua Silvermane exit a restaurant and step out into the street. The tall man stopped and surveyed the little scene calmly, an armadillo watching ants bickering.

  "You haven't answered me, Danny."

  "I don't deal with blackmailers."

  "View me as a liberator," said Balsam.

  "You don't want to know what I view you as."

  "I'm running out of patience, Danny. I can kill you or I can take you back alive or I can let you go—but one way or another I'm going to make myself 60,000 credits. Now, do I do it the hard way or the easy way?"

  "Why not make a trade?" said a strong baritone voice.

  "Who the hell are you?" demanded Balsam as Silvermane approached them.

  "My name's Joshua Silvermane."

  "I never heard of you."

  "That's okay," said Silvermane. "I never heard of you, either."

  "What kind of trade are you talking about?"

  "Just a moment," said Silvermane, walking to the entrance to a drug parlor about 40 feet away.

  "Where are you going?" said Balsam suspiciously.

  "Stay where you are. I'll be right back."

  Silvermane vanished into the drug den's interior. A moment later there was a deafening crash!, and an instant after that a body literally flew out through a window and landed with a sickening thud! on the street, where it lay, twitching feebly.

  Silvermane emerged and approached Balsam again.

  "That's Simon Ten Broek," he said, not even deigning to give the moaning man a glance. "There's paper on him all over the Frontier. He's worth 100,000 credits back on Spica VI, even more in the Roosevelt system."

  "What the hell did he do?"

  "Rape. Arson. Torture. Murder. Three jailbreaks. You name it, he's probably done it."

  "Okay, he's a wanted man. So what?"

  "I'll trade him to you for the poet and the lady," said Silvermane. "You'll come out at least 40,000 credits ahead."

  "What if I say no?"

  "Then I'll kill Simon, and when I'm done, I'll probably kill you too."

  Balsam aimed his weapon at Silvermane. "You forget who has the advantage here, friend."

  "Put that burner down or I'll take it away and cram it up your ass," said Silvermane with no show of fear or apprehension.

  The grin vanished. Of all the answers Balsam had expected, that was the least likely, and it troubled him. "How do I know that's really Simon Ten Broek?"

  "How do I know you're really a licensed bounty hunter?" Silvermane shot back.

  "This is ridiculous!" snapped Balsam, his courage slipping away in the face of this totally confident stranger. "I've wasted enough time! You want a trade? All right, we'll trade! Just take them and get the hell out of my sight."

  "You've made a wise decision," said Silvermane. He turned to Dante and Matilda. "Come on."

  They fell into step behind him as he began walking back to the Jong Palace. As they did so, Balsam went over to Simon Ten Broek and delivered a powerful kick in his ribs. "Get up!" he bellowed.

  Silvermane was beside Balsam before he realized it. "And that," he said, "was a foolish decision." He grabbed Balsam' wrist before he could reach for his weapon. They stood motionless for a moment. Then there was an audible crack!, and Balsam screamed. Silvermane released his grip, and Balsam dropped to one knee, holding his wrist.

  "I gave you a prisoner, not a toy," said Silvermane sternly.

  "You broke my wrist!" snarled Balsam.

  "You'll have time to think about abusing your fellow man while it heals."

  "Abusing my fellow men? You threw him through that fucking window!"

  "I met him on equal terms," said Silvermane. "You didn't. If I hear he was further abused, I'll come looking for you. You'll live a lot longer if I don't."

  Silvermane stood and stared down at the bounty hunter.

  "I heard you," grated Balsam.

  "Make sure you remember."

  Silvermane turned and walked to the Jong Palace, followed by Dante and Matilda.

  "Thank you," said Dante once they were inside.

  "There's no need," said Silvermane. "I took an instant dislike to your officious Democracy associate. Besides, it makes no difference whether I kill Simon here or they put him to death back in the Democracy. The important thing is that he dies."

  "What did he do?" asked Matilda.

  "More than I hope a lovely lady like yourself can imagine," said Silvermane.

  "He's the rea
son you came to New Pategonia?"

  "He's the reason."

  "What will you do now?"

  "I haven't decided."

  "Have you thought about what we discussed last night?" asked Dante.

  "Why else would I save you from a bounty killer?" replied Silvermane with an amused smile.

  "And have you reached a decision?"

  "I'm working on it."

  30.

  Billy Green-Eyes, bold and brave,

  Would never be a hero.

  And now our Billy seeks the grave:

  His prospects total zero.

  Silvermane announced that he had one more world to visit before he made his decision. It was the mining world of Trentino, the seventh planet in the Alpha Bellini system, and they had no choice but to follow him in their own ship.

  The journey took three days. Virgil opted for 70 hours in the Deepsleep Chamber, but Dante and Matilda chose to remain awake most of the time, discussing their options, wondering if they'd found their Santiago or if they could do better with a little more searching.

  "It doesn't really make much difference if there's a better man out there," said Matilda after they'd gone over the possibilities for the tenth time. "We have an immediate problem, or we wouldn't be here. We've got to stop the Bandit before he kills more innocent people."

  "We could hire an assassin if that's all that matters," responded Dante. "I think our original idea was right. We just chose the wrong man."

  "Maybe it's not time," said Matilda. "Maybe events choose the man. You and I are just people, not events. Maybe it's simply not yet time for Santiago to cast his shadow across the galaxy."

  "How much worse do things have to get?"

  "I don't know. But do you ever get the feeling that we're like journalists who stop reporting the news and start creating it?"

  "I'm not a journalist, and neither are you."

  "You know what I mean. Maybe we're not supposed to hand-pick a Santiago. Maybe he'll step forward on his own. Maybe until he does, until it's his idea to be Santiago, we're being premature about the whole thing."

  "I thought you wanted a Santiago," he said accusingly.

  "I did," she said. "And I got one. And look at what's happened."