Santiago: A Myth of the Far Future

by Mike Resnick

"That's what they say."

  "And that doesn't worry you?"

  "I'm trying not to lose any sleep over it," answered Cain.

  "You're a confident man, Sebastian Cain," said Father William. "If it was me, I'd have taken off from Safe Harbor last night."

  "But it's not you," said Cain.

  "True enough." agreed the preacher. "Well, enjoy your stay. Possibly you'd like to join me for dinner tonight?"

  "Perhaps."

  "You seem singularly unenthused," noted Father William.

  "You eat so damned fast, you're likely to swallow my arm before you realize you've made a mistake," said Cain with a smile.

  Father William threw back his head and roared with laughter. Finally he regained his breath. "I like you, Sebastian! I truly do!" Suddenly he became serious. "I hope we never have to confront each other as enemies."

  "Are you planning on breaking the law?" asked Cain.

  "Me?" snorted Father William. "Never!"

  "Neither am I."

  Father William stared at him for a long moment. "Would you care to come up here and sit beside me for a spell?"

  "Later, perhaps," said Cain. "I've got to buy some supplies."

  "Go in peace, Sebastian." said the preacher. He looked up at the sky. "A beautiful day—the kind of day that makes a man forget how much evil there is abroad in the galaxy."

  Cain nodded to him and continued walking down the street until he came to a small general store. He entered it and was momentarily chilled by the rush of cold air.

  "Good morning, sir." said the proprietor, a portly, middle-aged man who had meticulously combed his thinning hair to cover a bald spot and succeeded only in calling attention to it. "May I help you?"

  "Possibly," said Cain, looking down the various aisles. "Do you carry any books or tapes here?"

  "Safe Harbor doesn't have a newstape," he said. "Nothing very exciting ever happens here," he added with an apologetic smile. "But we do have a selection of tapes and magazines from nearby worlds. Is there anything in particular you're looking for?"

  "Yes," said Cain. "Have you got material about Santiago?"

  "Nothing worth looking at," said the shopkeeper. "Just the usual stupid speculations written by incompetents who have nothing better to do with their time." He sighed. "You'd think somebody would tell the truth about him after all these years."

  "What is the truth?" asked Cain.

  "He's a great man, a great man, and they keep treating him like some kind of common criminal."

  "I don't mean to seem rude," said Cain carefully, "but none of the stories I've heard about him make him sound like anything but an outlaw."

  "You've been listening to the wrong people."

  "Are you one of the right ones?"

  "I beg your pardon?"

  "What can you tell me about Santiago?"

  "Oh, nothing very much," replied the shopkeeper.

  "Just that he's a great man," said Cain.

  "That's right, sir," said the shopkeeper briskly. "You'll find our magazines and tapes in the middle of aisle three, just past the computer supplies."

  "Thank you," said Cain. He wandered over to the tape section, browsed for a couple of minutes, and walked out.

  His next stop was the barber shop, where he got a shave while listening to the barber tell him with a straight face that he had never heard of anyone named Santiago.

  Cain spent the rest of the morning wandering through the small village, striking up conversations wherever he could. The people were divided almost equally: half of them thought Santiago was a saint, and the other half seemed not to recognize his name.

  Finally he returned to Father William's hotel. The preacher was still rocking lazily in the sunlight, sipping a tall iced drink through a straw.

  "Hello, Sebastian," he said. "Have you decided to join me?"

  "For a couple of minutes, anyway," said Cain, pulling up a chair.

  "A couple of minutes is all I've got," replied Father William. "It's getting on toward lunchtime." He paused. "Did you have a successful morning?"

  "An interesting one, anyway," responded Cain.

  "I notice that you're not overburdened by supplies," remarked the preacher with a lazy smile.

  "I decided to carry them back after the heat of the day," lied Cain.

  "Good idea," said Father William. "Will you be leaving then?"

  Cain shrugged. "Perhaps."

  "Where will you be going next, Sebastian?"

  "I haven't decided yet. How about you?"

  "Szandor Two, perhaps, or possibly Greenwillow. It's been a few years since I've preached to either of them." He paused. "I suppose I'll stop by a post office somewhere along the way and make up my mind after I've seen the latest Wanted list."

  "Haven't they got any post offices on Safe Harbor?" asked Cain.

  Father William shook his head. "Not a big enough planet. The mail gets delivered every three weeks to the local chemical company. The townspeople pick it up when it arrives, and the rest of it gets passed out when they deliver fertilizer and insecticides to the farms."

  "How many mail deliveries have you been here for?"

  "Two," said Father William.

  "Last night you told me you'd only been here a week," said Cain.

  "Last night you hadn't told that unholy ship of yours to check with the local authorities," replied the preacher easily. "That was unwise, Sebastian, challenging the word of a servant of the Lord."

  "Isn't lying supposed to be a sin?" inquired Cain mildly.

  "God can be very understanding," answered Father William.

  "Is He equally understanding of all the people who lied to me this morning?"

  "Nobody lied to you, Sebastian."

  "More than a dozen men told me that they had never heard of Santiago."

  "Almost nobody," amended Father William.

  "When is he due to show up?" asked Cain.

  "Who?"

  "Santiago."

  Father William chucked. "You're letting your imagination run away with you, Sebastian."

  "I thought we were going to talk," said Cain.

  "We're talking right now," said the preacher.

  "One of us is talking," Cain corrected him. "And one of us is still lying."

  Father William smiled. "You're lucky I'm on vacation, Sebastian. I've taken men's scalps for less than that." His smile vanished. "However, I wouldn't press my luck if I were you."

  "Am I to assume that our conversation is over?" asked Cain caustically.

  "Not at all," said Father William, rising to his feet. "But I think we'll continue it over lunch. I'm famished!"

  He walked across the unpaved street to the tavern, and Cain fell into step beside him.

  Moonripple had already laid out a huge spread for Father William and looked somewhat distressed when she saw Cain enter with him.

  "I didn't know you were coming, sir," she said apologetically. "I haven't made anything for you."

  "He can have one of my sandwiches," said the preacher magnanimously.

  Cain looked at the table. "Are you sure seven of them will be enough for you?" he asked wryly.

  "God tells us that we must make sacrifices," said Father William, tying a napkin around his neck and sitting down. He turned to Moonripple. "Did you remember to buy the ice cream, my child?"

  "Yes, sir," said Moonripple.

  "Excellent! By the way, Mr. Cain will be my guest for dinner."

  "Mr. Cain?" she repeated, staring at Cain. "Are you the one they call the Songbird?"

  Cain nodded. "It's not my favorite name."

  "I've heard about you all over the Frontier," she continued enthusiastically. "Black Orpheus gave you three verses!" She paused, embarrassed. "I'm sorry about not knowing who you were last night."

  "There's no reason why you should have known me," replied Cain.

  "But you're so famous!"

  "No more so than you and Father William," said Cain. "We're all in the damned song."
/>   She looked concerned. "Don't you like Orpheus' song?"

  "Not especially," he said. Moonripple looked like she was about to cry, and he quickly added: "But the verse he did about you was lovely."

  "Do you really think so?" she asked, smiling again.

  He nodded. "Have you ever found those pearls that he claims you were looking for?"

  "I wasn't really hunting for pearls," she replied. "That was just a thing to say."

  "What were you looking for on all those worlds?" asked Cain.

  She shrugged. "I don't know."

  "Maybe we were both looking for the same thing," he suggested.

  "Maybe," she agreed. "What are you looking for?"

  "Santiago."

  "I've never met him, sir."

  "Do you know anyone who has?"

  "I really couldn't say, sir," she replied. "I mean, if you had met Santiago, you'd hardly be likely to tell someone like me, would you?"

  "Would you like to meet him?"

  "A great hero like that?" she said. "He wouldn't have time for someone like me, sir."

  "Moonripple, my child," said Father William, who had been eating with feverish haste during their conversation, "I think I'm ready for another pitcher of beer."

  "Right away, sir," she said, walking behind the bar and holding a fresh pitcher under the tap.

  "You'd better dig in, Sebastian," said Father William, "or there won't be anything left for you."

  "You go ahead," said Cain. "I'm really not very hungry."

  "You weren't hungry last night, either," remarked the preacher. "No wonder you're so gaunt. Don't you ever eat?"

  "Aboard my ship," answered Cain.

  "You couldn't get me into that unholy melding of man and machine," said Father William devoutly. "I'm surprised God allowed it to happen."

  "If God didn't want Men to become spaceships, He wouldn't have created the Graal," said Cain with a smile.

  Father William looked up sternly from his food. "Sebastian, you can ask all the questions you want about Santiago—but when you make fun of the Lord, you're walking on very thin ice. Do you understand what I'm saying to you?"

  "I apologize if I've offended you," said Cain.

  "It's not me you have to worry about offending," said the preacher. "It's the Lord."

  "Then I apologize to both of you."

  Father William stared at him for a long moment, trying to decide if Cain was making fun of him, then nodded a terse acceptance and returned to his meal.

  Moonripple brought Father William's beer over to him. Cain was about to start questioning her again when the door opened and Charles Marlowe Felcher walked in, strode up to the bar, and ordered a beer and a whiskey. He looked hot and discouraged, as indeed he was.

  "Good afternoon," he said, nodding to Cain and Father William.

  "Greetings, neighbor," said the preacher. "I think it's still morning for a few more minutes, though."

  "It feels like afternoon," One-Time Charlie replied, downing the whiskey and going to work on the beer. "I've been making the rounds all morning, looking for work."

  "There's not much to be had on Safe Harbor," offered Father William.

  "So I've been finding out." He signaled to Moonripple and held up his whiskey glass. "Keep this thing full, honey." He looked back to Father William. "I didn't know this joint was a restaurant, too."

  "It isn't," said the preacher. "I'm a friend of the family."

  "You live around here?"

  "Just vacationing."

  "You, too?" he asked Cain.

  "Just drinking beer," replied Cain.

  "What's your name, friend?" asked Father William.

  "Felcher, Charles Felcher," was the reply. "But most people call me One-Time Charlie."

  "Orpheus told me about you," said Moonripple disapprovingly.

  "Well, whatever he told you, it was probably a lie," said One-Time Charlie. "After all, that's what he gets paid for doing, isn't it?"

  "He doesn't get paid at all," she said.

  "Then he's a bigger fool than I thought," laughed Charlie, downing a second whiskey and holding his glass out for a refill.

  "He's not a fool!" she said hotly. "He's a great artist!"

  "Didn't anyone ever tell you that the customer is always right?" said One-Time Charlie.

  "Not when he says bad things about Black Orpheus, he isn't," she replied defiantly.

  "Have it your way," he said with a shrug. "I'm just here to have a drink and cool off."

  Father William returned to his repast, while Cain sipped his beer thoughtfully and decided not to question Moonripple any further until One-Time Charlie had left or passed out. He decided that the latter was more likely, given the rate at which he was putting away whiskey and washing it down with beer.

  "Moonripple, my girl, I think I could use another two or three sandwiches before you bring out my dessert," announced Father William when he had emptied his plate. "And put a little more cheese on them this time."

  "Yes, sir," she said, heading off to the kitchen.

  "That looks like a nice job, being a friend of the family," commented One-Time Charlie, looking up from his drink.

  "It has its advantages," agreed Father William. "Especially for a man of the cloth who donates all his money to charitable causes."

  Charlie grinned. "Are you a preacher?"

  "I am privileged to serve the Lord in that and other capacities," replied Father William.

  "Can't be much work for you on a little backwater world like this."

  "As I told you, I'm on vacation."

  "Stupid place to come for a vacation."

  "Ah, but I'm vacationing," said Father William with a smile. "Are you working?"

  "I'm working on this bottle, is what I'm working on," said One-Time Charlie, his words starting to slur.

  Moonripple returned with the sandwiches and placed them down before Father William, then went back to her post behind the bar.

  "Those sandwiches look pretty good," said One-Time Charlie. "I think I'll have some, too."

  "I'm sorry, sir, but they're not one of our services," said Moonripple.

  "If you can make them for a preacher, you can make them for an honest worker," said One-Time Charlie irritably.

  "Really, I can't, sir," said Moonripple. "These come from the owner's private kitchen."

  "I don't give a damn where they come from!" growled Charlie. "If he can have them, so can I."

  Moonripple looked across the room at Father William, who nodded almost imperceptibly.

  "All right, sir," she said to One-Time Charlie. "I'll be right back with your sandwiches."

  She went into the kitchen, and he turned triumphantly to Father William and Cain.

  "You just have to know how to talk to these people," he said smugly.

  Both of them stared silently back at him, and after a moment he returned to his drinking.

  Moonripple emerged a few minutes later, carrying two platters. She set one of them down on the bar in front of One-Time Charlie and carried the other, which held Father William's dessert, to the preacher.

  "Ah!" he exclaimed happily. "You found strawberries for my cheesecake! You are truly an angel, my girl!"

  "That's really good cheesecake?" asked One-Time Charlie sullenly.

  "The best!" enthused Father William. "The girl is an absolute artist in the kitchen!"

  "I'll have a piece, too," he told Moonripple.

  "I'm afraid there isn't any more," she replied.

  "We're not going to go through all that again, are we, honey?" he said. "I told you I wanted a piece of cheesecake."

  "She's telling you the truth," said Father William. "She only makes one a day. I prefer them fresh."

  "Then make another one," said One-Time Charlie.

  "I can't, sir," answered Moonripple. "I buy the makings each morning. Father William doesn't like me to use frozen ingredients."

  "You're Father William?" asked One-Time Charlie, surprised.

&n
bsp; "That's right."

  "The bounty hunter?"

  "When God so wills it."

  "Is this girl any relation to you?"

  "No."

  "Then you've got no interest in anything I say to her." One-Time Charlie turned back to Moonripple. "Go out and buy some more makings."

  "I'm not allowed to leave, sir."

  He grabbed her arm as she walked by.

  "I thought we decided that the customer was always right."

  "You're hurting me!" said Moonripple, trying to twist free.

  "I'm going to do a lot more than that if we don't figure out who's the boss here," he said nastily.

  "Let her go," said Cain softly.

  "Another party heard from," said One-Time Charlie, turning to glare at him without relinquishing his grip on the girl. "Who asked you to butt in?"

  "I'm another friend of the family," said Cain.

  "Yeah?" said One-Time Charlie pugnaciously. "Well, you and your goddamned family can go fuck yourselves."

  "You've had too much to drink," said Cain, getting slowly to his feet. "Now let her go and get out of here."

  "Are you a bounty hunter, too?" asked Charlie sarcastically.

  "As a matter of fact, I am."

  "Have you got a name?"

  "Sebastian Cain."

  "The Songbird?" said One-Time Charlie, frowning. "What have we got, some kind of convention going on here?"

  "What we've got is a drunk who's asking for trouble," said Cain ominously.

  "Come on," laughed One-Time Charlie. "Everybody knows you guys don't kill anyone who's not wanted by the law. This is a private discussion between me and this little girl; why don't you just keep your nose out of it?"

  "Just let her go and walk out, and nobody will get hurt," said Cain slowly.

  Suddenly One-Time Charlie twisted Moonripple's arm behind her and produced a knife with his free hand, pressing it against the girl's throat. "Take one step toward me and I'll slice her!" he snarled.

  "Do you suppose there's any paper on One-Time Charlie?" asked Cain, never taking his eyes off the man.

  Father William nodded, pulling his coat back and revealing his laser pistols. "A sinner like him? There's got to be paper on him somewhere, Sebastian."

  One-Time Charlie started to realize that he was in over his head, but in his drunken state of mind he couldn't find any way out of his situation. He tightened his grip on Moonripple and began edging slowly toward the door, keeping her between himself and the two bounty hunters.