Santiago: A Myth of the Far Future (42 page)

She shook her head. “They believe
in living in peace with their neighbors. In this particular case, their
neighbors were a very aggressive humanoid race, and it took them almost two
years to reach an accommodation—but they finally did.” She paused. “Then the
Democracy decided that Hyperion was strategically desirable as a military base.
There were a couple of incidents involving the native population, and Hyperion
was declared off limits to civilians. The colony, which had made its peace,
refused to leave.”

“And the navy did
this
to them?”

“Indirectly,” she replied. “After
the navy came to the conclusion that pacifying the native humanoids was more
trouble than it was worth, they released a chemical agent in the atmosphere
which killed off the entire race. It’s far from the first such instance out
here.” She looked through the glass at the nine humans. “Unfortunately, it also
caused a bacterial mutation that resulted in a virulent skin disease among the
colonists. Since they had been warned to leave, the navy refuses to take
responsibility for them.”

“How many colonists survived?”
asked Cain.

“Of the original five thousand, a
little less than half of them are still alive.”

“And how many of them are here?”

“Just those that you see. We
haven’t the room or the money to treat them all, so we brought a representative
sample here to see if we could effect a cure. If we can come up with a serum or
a vaccine, we’ll ship it back to Hyperion with them.”

“And you do this for how many
worlds?”

“As many as we can.”

“It must cost a small fortune to
run this kind of operation,” he commented.

“A
large
fortune,” she corrected him. “We have four other facilities on the Inner
Frontier.”

“All functioning covertly?”

She nodded. “If the Democracy knew
about them, they’d be that much closer to finding Santiago.” She looked
directly at him. “And if they find him, the people of Hyperion and a hundred
other worlds of the Inner Frontier will have no place to turn.”

They walked out into a corridor
leading to the next ward, and Cain immediately stepped back to allow an orderly
to wheel an enormous, elephantine being into one of the surgery rooms.

“What the hell was
that?
” he asked.

“A native of Castor Five,” she
replied.

“You work on aliens, too?”

“Her race is sentient, and it has
been oppressed by the Democracy. We have no third qualification.”

“You start treating all the aliens
the Democracy has oppressed, and you won’t be able to build enough hospitals to
hold them,” said Cain.

“I know,” she said. “But we do
what we can. It’s just a gesture, but a very important one.” She eyed him
carefully. “Or are you of the opinion that it is Man’s manifest destiny to rule
the galaxy alone?”

“I never gave it much thought,” he
answered. “I suppose if might makes right, he’s got a jump on the rest of the
field.”

“
Does
might make right?” she asked.

Cain shrugged. “No. But it makes
it pretty difficult for anyone to tell you you’re wrong.”

“But not impossible,” she pointed
out. “And that’s precisely what we’re doing—by example.” She stared at him
again. “I hope this is making some impression on you, Mr. Cain. It’s very
important that you understand exactly what we’re fighting for.”

“It’s making an impression,” he
said noncommittally.

“I hope so,” she repeated.

They walked through the remainder
of the complex in silence, then returned to the elevator.

“How many more public works do I
have to see before I get to meet Santiago?” asked Cain as they ascended to the
surface.

“There aren’t any more,” said
Silent Annie. “At least, not on Safe Harbor. We don’t want to do anything that
might call attention to this planet.”

She stepped out into the interior
of a silo, and he followed her as she made her way to the vehicle. A moment
later they were once again speeding across the countryside.

“How much farther?” he asked after
a few minutes.

“About fifteen miles,” she
replied. “It’s been dark for almost three hours now. Are you getting hungry?”

“I can wait.”

“I can signal ahead and have
dinner waiting for you when we arrive.”

“It’s not necessary.”

“Do you still intend to kill him?”
she asked suddenly.

“I don’t know.”

She made no further comment, and
they drove the next twenty minutes in silence. Then she took a hard left turn
and began driving down a bumpy dirt road. In the distance Cain could see a
white prefabricated house with a huge veranda that seemed to circle it
completely.

“That’s it?” he asked.

“That’s it.”

“He’s not very well protected,” he
commented. “I’ve only spotted three sensing devices since we turned onto this
road.”

“You’re not supposed to see
any
.”

“It’s my business to see them.”

She shrugged. “It’s dark out.
Probably some of them have escaped your attention.”

“I doubt it.”

“You must also remember that he
has no enemies on Safe Harbor,” said Silent Annie. “Except perhaps for you.”

“Just the same, his security’s
lousy,” said Cain. “That guy on the roof stands out like a sore thumb.”

“What guy?”

“The one with the laser rifle. He
let the moonlight glint off his infrared scope a minute ago.”

“I don’t see anyone,” she said,
peering into the darkness.

“He’s there, big as life—and twice
as easy a target. It’s going to take more than this to keep the Angel out.”

“Is that your professional
opinion?”

“It is.”

“I’ll tell him you said so.”

“I’ll tell him myself,” said Cain.

They pulled up to the house and
climbed out of the vehicle. Silent Annie led the way to the front door, which
slid back into the wall before she reached it, letting out a burst of cool dry
air in the process.

Cain followed her into the foyer,
which was empty, and then into the large living room. There were a number of
slightly shabby, very comfortable chairs and couches arranged in little
groupings, and a heatless pseudofire roared in a brick fireplace. There was
also a portable bar, a large holo screen, and a trio of elegantly framed
mirrors—but it was the books that overwhelmed everything else in the room. They
were everywhere—stacked neatly in floor-to-ceiling cases, piled on tables,
casually tossed onto window seats, spread open over chair and sofa arms, even
laid out on the hearth.

The only person in the room was a
man dressed in a tan lounging suit. He sat on an easy chair, reading a
leather-bound book and sipping an Alphard brandy.

He appeared to be in his late
forties or early fifties. His hair was brown and thinning, and had started to
turn gray at the sides. His eyes, too, were brown, and stared curiously at Cain
from under long, thin eyebrows that sloped gently upward, giving him a
perpetually questioning look. His nose had been broken at least once, possibly
many times, and his teeth were so white and straight that Cain immediately
decided they weren’t his own. There was an S-shaped scar on the back of his
right hand.

He was a burly man who was
starting to put weight on a once powerful figure, but when he stood up he did
so with an athletic grace.

“I’ve been waiting a long time to
meet you, Sebastian,” he said in a deep voice.

“Not as long as
I’ve
been waiting to meet
you
,”
said Cain.

Santiago smiled. “And now that
you’re here, which do you propose to do—talk or shoot?”

“We’ll talk first,” said Cain. He
looked around the living room. “You’ve got quite a library. I don’t think I’ve
ever seen so many books in one place before.”

“I like the heft and feel of a
book,” replied Santiago. “Computer libraries are filled with electronic
impulses. Books are filled with
words
.” He patted
his book fondly and tossed it onto his chair. “I’ve always preferred words.”

“You’ve also got a lot of
mirrors,” noted Cain.

“I’m a vain man.”

“Tell whoever’s behind them not to
get overeager. I could have taken them out the second I entered the room.”

Santiago laughed. “You heard him,”
he said, turning to the mirrors. “Leave us alone.” He turned back to Silent
Annie, who had been standing quietly behind Cain. “You can leave us, too. I’ll
be quite safe.”

“You’re an optimist,” said Gain as
Silent Annie left the room.

“A realist,” said Santiago. “If
you kill me, you’ll do it in such a way that you live to spend the reward.” He
paused. “Can I offer you some brandy?”

Cain nodded, and Santiago walked
over to the bar and poured out a glass while the bounty hunter studied him.

“Here you are,” said Santiago,
approaching him and handing him the brandy.

“You’re too young,” said Cain.

“Cosmetic surgery,” replied
Santiago with a smile. “I told you I was a vain man.”

“You’re also a
wanted
man.”

“Only by the Democracy,” said Santiago.
“Let me suggest that sometimes it’s not a bad idea to judge a man by his
enemies.”

“In your case it’s an absolute
necessity,” said Cain sardonically. “I’ve
met
your
friends.”

Santiago shrugged. “One works with
what’s at hand. If I could have enlisted better allies than Poor Yorick and
Altair of Altair and the others, I assure you I would have.” He paused. “In
fact, that’s why you’re here.”

“So I’ve been told.”

“We’re very much alike, Sebastian.
We hold the same values, we fight against the same oppression, we even
subscribe to the same methodology. I very much want you on my side.”

“I’ve retired from the revolution
business,” said Cain.

“You fought for the wrong causes.”

“The causes were right,” said
Cain. “The
men
were wrong.”

“I stand corrected.”

“What makes you any better than
they were?”

Santiago stared at him for a
moment.

“I have a proposal,” he announced
at last. “You’ve had a long, hard day, Sebastian. You’ve killed a man, you’ve
seen things that no member of the Democracy has ever seen, and you’ve finally
come face to face with the most wanted man in the galaxy. You must be hot and
tired and hungry.” He paused. “Let’s declare a truce for tonight. We’ll have
dinner, we’ll get to know each other a little better, and tomorrow morning,
when you’re feeling rested, I promise that we’ll talk business—mine
and
yours.”

Cain stared at him impassively,
then nodded. “I think I’ll skip dinner, though.” he said.

“You’ve only had one sandwich all
day.”

“You’re very well informed,”
remarked Cain.

“And
you’re
worrying needlessly,” said Santiago. “I’ve had numerous opportunities to kill
you since you landed on Safe Harbor. I didn’t permit you to come all this way
just to poison you.”

“Makes sense.” admitted Cain.

Santiago led him into the dining
room, which was as cluttered with books as the living room.

“I trust you’ll be a little easier
on my pantry than Father William,” said Santiago. He shook his head
wonderingly. “The way that man eats, I don’t know why he isn’t dead by now.”

“A lot of people are wondering the
same thing about you,” said Cain, seating himself across from Santiago.

“A lot of people think I
am
dead.” said Santiago. Suddenly he chuckled. “You
wouldn’t believe some of the stories they tell about me, Sebastian. I’ve heard
that I was killed three different times last year, and that I laid waste to a
little world called Silverblue out on the Galactic Rim. One story even had me
assassinating some diplomat on Canphor Seven.”

“You’re also eleven feet tall and
have orange hair.” remarked Cain wryly.

“Really?” asked Santiago,
interested. “I hadn’t heard that one.” He shrugged. “Well, I suppose that’s the
price of anonymity.”

“I’d hardly call you anonymous.”
said Cain. “There are hundreds of men making full-time careers out of trying to
hunt you down and kill you.”

“And here I am, alive and well.”
said Santiago. “I’d say that’s a pretty good definition of living anonymously.”

“If you really want to be
anonymous, why not scotch some of these myths and legends that have sprung up
about you?”

“The more crimes the Democracy
thinks I’ve committed, the more manpower they’ll divert from people who can’t
defend themselves,” he replied. “But here we are, talking business again, after
I promised to let you relax.”

“I don’t mind,” said Cain.

“We’ll have ample time for it
tomorrow,” said Santiago. “Shall we talk about literature?”

Cain shrugged. “Whatever you
like.”

“Good,” said Santiago as a pair of
young men emerged from the kitchen and began serving them. “Have you ever read
anything by Tanblixt?”

“I never heard of him.”

“He’s an
it
,
not a
him
,” said Santiago. “A Canphorite, in
fact—and an absolutely brilliant poet.”

“I’ve never been interested much
in poetry,” said Cain.

“Excellent soup,” commented
Santiago, sipping a spoonful. “Father William drinks it by the gallon.”

“It’s very good,” agreed Cain,
taking a taste.

“I’ve also been rereading a number
of novels written in the days when we were still Earthbound,” continued
Santiago. “I’ve developed a special fondness for Dickens.”

“
David
Copperfield
?” suggested Cain.

“Ah!” Santiago smiled. “I
knew
you were a learned man.”

“I just said I’d read it,” replied
Cain. “I never said I liked it.”