Santiago: A Myth of the Far Future (2 page)

The tall, lean man, his face
angular and almost gaunt, his eyes dark and world-weary, approached the bar.
His jacket and pants were a nondescript brown, their many pockets filled with
shapeless bulges that could mean almost anything on the Frontier. Only his
boots stood out, not because they were new, but rather because they were so
demonstrably old, obviously carefully tended yet unable to hold a polish.

“My name’s Cain,” said the
newcomer. “You know that.”

“Well, it ain’t what they call you
these days.”

“It’s what
you’ll
call me if you want my business,” replied Cain.

“But Black Orpheus, now, he’s got
you all written up as the Songbird,” persisted Gentry.

“I don’t sing, I’m not a bird, and
I don’t much care what some half-baked folksinger writes about me.”

Gentry shrugged. “Have it your
way—and while we’re on the subject, what else’ll you have?”

“He’ll have Altairian rum, like
me,” interjected Giles Sans Pitié.

“I will?” asked Cain, turning to
him.

“My treat.” The bounty hunter held
up his bottle. “Come on over to a table and join me, Sebastian Cain.”

Cain watched him walk across the
room for a moment, then shrugged and followed him.

“I hear you had pretty good luck
on Praeteep Four,” said Giles Sans Pitié when both men had seated themselves.

“Luck had nothing to do with it,”
replied Cain, leaning back comfortably on his chair. “I understand you didn’t
do too badly yourself.”

“Not so. I had to cheat.”

“I don’t think I follow you.”

“I had to shoot the third one.”
Giles Sans Pitié held up his steel fist. “I like to take them with
this
.” He paused. “Did your man give you much trouble?”

“Some,” said Cain noncommittally.

“Have to chase him far?”

“A bit.”

“You’re sure not the most
expansive raconteur I’ve ever run across,” chuckled Giles Sans Pitié.

Cain shrugged. “Talk is cheap.”

“Not always. Suliman Hari offered
me thirty thousand credits to let him live.”

“And?”

“I thanked him for his offer, explained
that the price on his head was up to fifty thousand, and gave him a faceful of
metal.”

“And of course you didn’t then
take thirty thousand credits off his body without reporting it,” said Cain
sardonically.

Giles Sans Pitié frowned. “The son
of a bitch only had two thousand on him,” he growled righteously.

“I guess there’s just no honor
among thieves.”

“None. I can’t get over the
bastard lying to me!” He paused. “So tell me, Cain—who will you be going out
after next?”

Cain smiled. “Professional secret.
You know better than to ask.”

“True,” agreed Giles Sans Pitié.
“But everyone’s allowed a breach of etiquette now and then. For example, you
know better than to make a kill in the Praeteep system, but you did it anyway.”

“The man I was hunting went there,”
replied Cain calmly. “No disrespect intended, but I wasn’t going to let four
months’ work go down the drain just because you think you own the deed to an
entire solar system.”

“I
opened
that system,” said Giles Sans Pitié. “Named every planet in it.” He paused.
“Still, it’s an acceptable answer. I forgive you your trespass.”

“I don’t recall asking for
absolution,” said Cain.

“Just the same, it’s freely given.
This
time,” he added ominously. “But it would be a
good idea for you to remember that there are rules out here on the Frontier.”

“Oh? I hadn’t noticed any.”

“Nevertheless, they exist—and
they’re made by the people who can enforce them.”

“I’ll keep it in mind.”

“See that you do.”

“Or you’ll brain me with your
metal hand?” asked Cain.

“It’s a possibility.”

Cain smiled.

“What’s so funny?” demanded Giles
Sans Pitié.

“You’re a bounty hunter.”

“So?”

“Bounty hunters don’t kill people
for free. Who’s going to pay you to kill me?”

“I’ve got to protect what’s mine,”
replied Giles Sans Pitié seriously. “I just want to be sure that we understand
each other: if you go poaching on my territory again, we’re going to come to
blows.” He slammed his metal hand down on the table, putting a large dent in
it. “Mine are usually harder.”

“I imagine they are,” said Cain.

“Then you’ll steer clear of
Praeteep?”

“I’m not aware of any pressing
business engagements there.”

“That’s not exactly the answer I
was looking for.”

“I’d suggest you settle for it,”
said Cain. “It’s the best you’re going to get.”

Giles Sans Pitié stared at him for
a moment, then shrugged. “It could be years before anyone hides there again,
maybe even longer. I suppose there’s no law that says we can’t behave cordially
in the meantime.”

“I’m all for living in peace with
my fellow man,” said Cain agreeably.

Giles Sans Pitié looked amused.
“You picked a mighty strange profession for a man who feels that way.”

“Perhaps.”

“Well, shall we talk?”

“What about?”

“What about?” repeated Giles Sans
Pitié mockingly. “What do two bounty hunters
ever
talk about when they meet over a bottle of rum?”

And so they fell to discussing
Santiago.

They spoke of the worlds where he
was most recently thought to have been, and the crimes he was most recently
thought to have committed. Both had heard the rumor that he had robbed a mining
colony on Bemor VIII; both discounted it. Both also had heard that a caravan of
unmanned cargo ships had been plundered in the Antares region; Cain thought it
might well be the work of Santiago, while his companion felt he was far more
likely to have been on Doradus IV at the time, masterminding a triple
assassination. They exchanged information about the planets they themselves had
been to without finding any trace of him, and of the other bounty hunters they
had encountered who had added still more planets to the list.

“Who’s after him now?” asked Giles
Sans Pitié when their tallies had been completed.

“Everyone.”

“I mean, who most recently?”

“I hear the Angel has moved into
the area,” answered Cain.

“What makes you think he’s come
for Santiago?”

Cain merely stared at him.

“Stupid remark,” said Giles Sans
Pitié. “Forget I made it.” He paused. “The Angel’s supposed to be just about
the best.”

“So they say.”

“I thought he worked the Outer
Frontier, somewhere way out on the Rim.”

Cain nodded. “I guess he decided
Santiago’s not there.”

“I can name you a million places
Santiago
isn’t,
” said Giles Sans Pitié. “Why do you
suppose he thinks he’s on the Inner Frontier?”

Cain shrugged.

“Do you think he’s got a source?”
persisted Giles Sans Pitié.

“Anything’s possible.”

“It’s more than possible,” he said
after a moment’s consideration. “He wouldn’t move his base of operations
halfway across the galaxy if he didn’t have hard information. What planet is he
working out of?”

“How many worlds are there out
there?” replied Cain with a shrug. “Take your choice.”

Giles Sans Pitié frowned. “Still,
he might know something worth listening to.”

“What makes you think he’ll talk
to you, even if you find him?”

“Because the one thing bounty
hunters never lie about is Santiago; you know that. As long as he stays alive,
he makes all of us look bad.”

“Maybe the Angel does things
differently where he comes from,” suggested Cain.

“Then I’ll just have to explain
the ground rules to him,” said Giles Sans Pitié.

“I wish you luck.”

“Interested in throwing in with me
until we catch up with the Angel?”

“I work alone,” said Cain.

“Just as well,” said Giles Sans
Pitié, suddenly remembering his rum and taking a long swallow of it. “Where did
you hear about him?”

“In the Meritonia system.”

“I think I’ll head out that way
later this week,” said Giles Sans Pitié, rising to his feet. “It’s been an
interesting conversation, Cain.”

“Thanks for the rum,” said Cain
wryly, staring at the empty bottle.

“Any time,” laughed his companion.
“And you
will
make an effort to keep out of the
Praeteep system from now on, won’t you?” He flexed his steel fist. “I’d hate to
have to give you an object lesson about trespassing.”

“Would you?”

“Not really,” was the frank
answer.

Cain made no reply, and a moment
later Giles San Pitié placed the empty bottle on the bar, left enough money to
cover another one he ordered for Cain, promised Gentry he’d be back to sample
some nonalcoholic wares later in the evening, and walked out into the hot,
humid night air of Moritat in search of some dinner.

Gentry finished serving the girl
with the melancholy eyes, then brought the bottle over to Cain’s table.

“What is it?” asked Cain, staring
at the clear liquid.

“Something they brew out Altair
way,” replied the old man. “Tastes kind of like gin.”

“I don’t like gin.”

“I know,” replied Gentry with a
chuckle. “That’s why I’m just dead certain you’re gonna invite me to sit down
with you and help you drink it.”

Cain sighed. “Have a seat, old
man.”

“Thank you. Don’t mind if I do.”
He lowered himself carefully to a chair, uncorked the bottle, and took a
swallow. “Good stuff, if I say so myself.”

“You could save a hell of a lot of
money by not supplying glasses,” remarked Cain. “Nobody around here seems to
use them.”

“Savin’ money ain’t one of my
problems,” replied Gentry. “And from what I hear, makin’ it ain’t one of
yours.”

Cain said nothing, and the old man
took another swallow and continued speaking.

“Did old Giles Without Pity warn
you off the Praeteep system?” he asked.

Cain nodded.

“Gonna pay him any heed?”

“Until the next time I have
business there,” replied Cain.

The old man laughed. “Good for
you, Songbird! Old Steelfist is gettin’ a little big for his britches these
days.”

“I’m getting tired of telling you
what my name is,” said Cain irritably.

“If you didn’t want to be a
legend, you shouldn’t have come out here. Two hundred years from now that’s the
only name people’ll know you by.”

“Two hundred years from now I
won’t have to listen to them.”

“Besides,” continued Gentry,
“Songbird ain’t on any Wanted posters. I seen Sebastian Cain on a flock of
‘em.”

“That was a long time ago.”

“Don’t go gettin’ defensive about
it,” chuckled the old man. “I seen posters on just about all you bounty hunters
at one time or another. Ain’t no skin off my ass. Hell, if Santiago himself
walked in the door and asked for one of my sportin’ gals, I’d trot him out the
prettiest one I’ve got.”

“For all you know, he already
has,” remarked Cain.

“Not a chance,” said Gentry. “He
ain’t that hard to spot.”

“Eleven feet three inches, with
orange hair?” asked Cain with an amused smile.

“You start huntin’ for a man who
looks like
that
and you’re going to be out here a
long, long time.”

“What do
you
think he looks like?”

The old man took a small swallow
from the bottle.

“Don’t know,” he admitted. “Do
know one thing, though. Know he’s got a scar shaped like this”—he traced a
crooked S on the table—”on the back of his right hand.”

“Sure he does.”

“Truth!” said the old man
vigorously. “I know a man who saw him.”

“Nobody’s seen him,” replied Cain.
“Or at least, nobody who’s seen him knew it was him.”

“That’s all
you
know about it,” said Gentry. “Man I used to run with spent a couple of weeks in
jail with him.”

Cain looked bored. “Santiago’s
never been arrested. If he had been, we’d
all
know
what he looked like.”

“They didn’t know it was him.”

“Then how come your friend knew?”

“‘Cause Santiago’s gang broke him
out, and one of ‘em called him by name.”

“Bunk.”

“Here I am, offerin’ to do you a
favor, and you turn your nose up at it,” said Gentry. “Damned good thing for
you I’m an old man who ain’t got the wherewithall to give you a thrashing for
insulting me like that.”

“What favor?”

“I thought maybe you might be
interested in knowing who my friend is and where you can find him.”

“There are half a dozen bounty
hunters who frequent this place,” said Cain. “Why give it to me?”

“Well, now,
give
ain’t exactly the term I had in mind,” answered Gentry with a grin. “Name like
that, name of a man who actually spent some time with Santiago, it ought to be
worth a little something now, shouldn’t it?”

“Maybe.”

There was a momentary silence.

“I didn’t hear no cash offer yet.”

“Let’s get back to my question,”
said Cain. “Why
me
?”

“Oh, it ain’t just you,” said
Gentry. “Sold it to Barnaby Wheeler a couple of months ago, but I heard on the
grapevine that he got killed chasing down some fugitive or other. And I offered
it to Peacemaker MacDougal just last week, but he didn’t want to come up with
no money. And I’ll see if I can’t tempt old Steelfist with it before he takes
advantage of one of my poor innocents tonight.” He smiled. “I got to be fair to
all
my customers.”

“People have been after Santiago
for thirty years or more,” said Cain. “If you have any information worth
selling, why did you wait until now to put it on the market?”

“I ain’t got anything against
Santiago,” said the old man. “He ain’t ever done me any harm. Besides, the
longer he stays free, the longer you guys’ll stay on the Frontier lookin’ for
him, and the longer you stay out here, the more money you’ll spend at Gentry’s
Emporium.”