"And when people weren't around?"
She studied his face again, then shrugged. "What the hell. Who cares after this long?" She leaned back against a wall. "They told me that he was a secret revolutionary, that he was trying, not to overthrow the Democracy, but to hold it in check, to stop it from plundering the human colonies on the Frontier when there were so many alien worlds to plunder." She paused. "Does that agree with what Orpheus said?"
"No," replied Dante. "But Orpheus didn't know. It agrees with what I pieced together after reading the manuscript. Orpheus was too close to things. He studied all the people, but he never stepped back and really looked at the picture." He looked at her. "What else did they tell you?"
"That he had to do some morally questionable things, that he killed a lot of men because he felt his cause was just. Since it was essential that the Democracy think of Santiago as an outlaw rather than a revolutionary, almost everyone who worked for him was a criminal. Some looted and murdered on their own and let him to take the blame—and some did terrible things on his orders." He paused. "They all served his cause, one way or another."
"Sounds about right. He came into existence because we needed him. I think we need him again."
"And if you and I select him and train him and control him, there's no reason why we shouldn't get a little piece of the action," she agreed.
"I don't want it," said Orpheus. "I just want him."
She looked at him like he was crazy. "Why?"
Dante shrugged. "It's difficult to explain. But he helps define me: there can't be an Orpheus without a Santiago. And God knows the need still exists. I've seen more brutality practiced in the name of the Democracy than I've ever seen practiced against it. Nothing's changed. They still don't seem to remember that they're in business to protect us, not plunder us."
"They would say they're doing just that."
"They're doing that if you're a citizen in good standing," replied Dante. "But out here, on the Frontier, they prevent alien races from running roughshod over us only so they can do it themselves. It's time to remind them just what the hell the Navy is supposed to be doing out here."
"What makes you think one man can stand up to them?" asked Matilda.
"Your great-great-grandfather did."
"They didn't know that, or they'd have used the whole Navy to hunt him down," she replied. "I know he robbed a lot of Navy convoys, and I know he ran the Democracy ragged trying to hunt him down—but what good did it do? All the Santiagos are dead, and the Democracy's still here."
"They stopped it from being worse," said Dante. "They built hospitals, they misdirected the Navy, they saved some alien worlds from total destruction. That's something, damn it."
"And who knows it besides you and me?" said Matilda. "Everyone he fought for thought he was a criminal out for their property."
"You know who knows it?" shot back Dante. "The Democracy knows it. They were scared to death of him—of them—for more than half a century . . . and if Santiago comes back, they'll be scared again."
She grimaced. "You know why there are no more Santiagos?"
"Why?"
"Because the Democracy blew Safe Harbor to smithereens when they got word that an alien force was hiding there. They never knew it was Santiago's headquarters, or that they'd killed him and his chosen successors. We live out here on the Frontier, so we think of him as King of the Outlaws—but if you're the Democracy, he's no more than a bothersome insect that's hardly worth swatting."
"You're wrong," said Dante. "I've studied it. The Democracy had eleven different agencies charged with finding and terminating him. Even today there's still one agency whose job is to find out who he was, how he got to be so powerful, and to stop history from ever repeating itself."
"Really?" she asked, interested.
He nodded. "Really." He paused. "So are you in or out?"
"Like I told you, I could use a Santiago to take the heat off me. Hell, I could use a couple of dozen. I'm in. Now what do I do?"
"Now we pool our knowledge and try to find the next Santiago."
"We could do a lot worse than the Tyrannosaur," she suggested.
"He's out. Doesn't want any part of it—and he's not what we need anyway."
"Why not? He's well-named."
"Santiago wasn't just a physical force, or even primarily one," answered Dante. "He was a moral force. Men who never gave allegiance to anyone laid down their lives for him." He paused. "Do you see anyone giving up their lives because Bailey tells them to?"
"If that's your criterion, we'll never find a Santiago," she complained.
"We'll find him, all right," said Dante firmly. "The times will bring him forth."
"They haven't brought him yet."
"He's out there somewhere," said Dante. "But he doesn't know he's Santiago. It was easier for most of the others, all of them except the first one; they were recruited by the man they succeeded. Our Santiago doesn't know that the Santiago business still exists."
"All right, we'll proceed on that assumption," said Matilda. "I'll see what I can remember from my childhood." She paused. "I'm leaving Prateep tomorrow, for New Kenya. What should I be looking for?"
"I don't know. They were all different. Reading between the lines, I figure the original collected animals for zoos, and he was followed by a chess master, a farmer, a bounty hunter, and a bank robber. You'll just have to use your judgment, look for the kind of qualities you think he should have."
"That's not much to go on."
"We're planning to take the Frontier back from the Democracy. We can't put too many restrictions on the man who will lead us."
"All right," she said. "Where will you be? How can I contact you?"
"I'll contact you." She stared at him curiously. "I'm a little hotter than you are right now," he explained. "I've got to keep moving."
"What did you do?"
"Nothing," he said wryly. "That's one of the things I have against the Democracy."
"I saw Dimitrios in the audience," she said. "Is he looking for you?"
"I doubt it," answered Dante. "If he was, I'm sure he'd have found me by now."
"He's one hell of a bounty hunter," Matilda noted. "You don't seem very worried about it."
"I'm not without my resources."
"They must be formidable."
"They're okay." He got to his feet. "I think I'd better be going now. I'll contact you again before you leave New Kenya."
"I don't know where I'll be staying yet."
"I'll find you."
He turned toward the door, which opened before he could reach it—and Simon Legree, dressed in his trademark navy blue, entered the dressing room, a burner in one hand, a screecher in the other.
"What have we here?" he said. "A carnival of thieves?"
"Go away," said Matilda contemptuously. "You don't have anything on me."
"I will soon, Tilly," he said.
"The name's Matilda, and you can tell me about it when you have it. Now get out of my dressing room."