Sky Coyote (Company)

by Kage Baker

  “And if the Company knew what’s at stake here?” She leaned forward. “You know how some of our stockholders feel about monotheism. They’d want him saved at all costs, you know they would! What if they put it to a vote?”

  “What, indeed?” said Lopez calmly as he poured himself a glass of water. “They might just do that, if they knew about this man. They don’t, however. Someone here did try to tell them; I intercepted an unauthorized transmission only last night, in fact.”

  Imarte gulped. My ears went up. “Of all the underhanded—” I began, but Imarte cut me off:

  “We don’t need to contact the future for a directive, anyway. There are enough representatives of the future here for a vote right now, if you call a meeting. Call that meeting, Lopez!”

  “Unfortunately, madam, that authority does not lie with me,” said Lopez, and took a sip of his distilled water. A silence fell. We looked at Bugleg, marooned as usual on his island of incomprehension.

  “Sir.” Imarte got up and went to him. “Surely you understand. This mortal has information on a lost culture, on a faith that would have transformed the world if it had been given the time! The loss to human civilization is, consequently, incalculable; but we can change that. This is comparable to finding Saint Paul or Mohammed and being able to record his actual doctrines in their purest state, not just the edited and half-obliterated translations that have been preserved. More so, because the ideologies of those religions employed scriptural text and have thus survived as cultural influences. Not so with the Native American faiths. We came here to ameliorate that tremendous injustice, sir, and what we’ve done so far on restoration for the Chumash has made a good start. But we’d be betraying our purpose if we didn’t utilize all our resources to record everything we can about this visitor from an equally significant civilization, given the remarkable opportunity we have to do so.”

  She leaned way over to emphasize her point with her cleavage.

  Bugleg fiddled with his stylus. “Um—” he said.

  “Sir, I implore you. This situation must be brought to the attention of the stockholders here,” she told him. “Call the meeting. Let’s have a consensus.”

  He looked horrified. I sat down and leaned back in my chair.

  “You need to know some stuff, sir,” I told him. “This man is a religious fanatic. He belongs to a cult. They do sacrifices and rituals.”

  “They do?” His eyes darted to my face.

  “Yes, they do. And you know how we’ve been saving the Indians, and it’s all been going really good? You know how we’re going to take them off to a base where they can stop doing savage old-time stuff and live just like you? Well, this man wants that not to happen. He wants to make them belong to his cult. See, he’s one of those guys who thinks it’s okay to kill people who don’t do rituals like he does. He’s a priest. I used to be a priest, and I know what they do. I was part of that Inquisition thing. You know about that, don’t you? That was where those bad old guys would torture people to make them join their religion. This guy is doing the same thing. We Old People learned from you that bigotry and intolerance are bad, but he doesn’t think so. In fact, he wants to start a war over it that will kill lots of people. I bet lots of animals get killed, too. You don’t want that, do you?”

  “No!” cried Bugleg. He turned accusing eyes on Imarte. “You were all, ‘He came on a peaceful mission’!”

  “He is a man of peace, sir. You don’t understand—it’s not as simple as Joseph is making it sound.” She looked at me furiously. “Yes, he comes from a religious group, but you were the ones who decided that all mortal cultures have equal value. You were the ones who thought everything was worth preserving. I’m simply following our Greater Mission Statement!”

  “You know what he believes about his god, this guy?” I said with a yawn and stretch. “That He sends animals to attack anybody who laughs at Him. Hey, and you know how she was all, Saint Paul and Mohammed? You know who those guys were? They started religions that got billions and billions of people killed fighting one another in wars. They said they were men of peace, too, but look what happened. This is the same kind of guy. Now, she wants to listen to his talking, and she wants to do it in the Indian village, and she doesn’t think it matters if my Indians hear his cult ideas. I say it’s dangerous. What if they listen to him and turn into cultists? He’s like a microbe, this guy, he’s like germs. Okay? And if you let her have her meeting thing, and her consensus thing, the germs are going to spread. Do you want that?”

  “How can you do this?” Imarte had tears in her eyes. “Joseph, you of all people should know what’s at stake here!”

  I knew better than she did. Bugleg was shaking his head obstinately. “No, no, no. You can’t have a meeting. This man sounds really sick. No sacrifices and no wars.”

  “Let’s compromise, shall we?” said Lopez, who had been watching us, chin on fist. “We’ll have a replica native dwelling built nearby. This man can be brought in—perhaps at night or while he’s unconscious—and you can continue your interviews there, madam. Minimal loss of context, and he won’t be exposed to anything alien enough to affect his personal mythology. Will that do? He won’t disturb the Chumash any further, and I’m sure you can invent a plausible reason for his disappearance, can’t you, Joseph?”

  “Sure! Sounds great.” I got up and collected my hat. Imarte stared down at the table with big soulful betrayed eyes. Bugleg looked at us, from one to the other, still outraged.

  “No meetings!” he said sternly.

  “Nope. You did good, sir,” I told him. “That was smart, giving that order. It’ll save the mission from those nasty cult guys. You should be proud of yourself.” But he shook his head again.

  “Being proud is wrong,” he told us.

  The long walk back to Humashup wasn’t all that comfortable, with Imarte sniffling and refusing to talk to me. I was sorry I’d had to play hardball, but this wasn’t the first time somebody’s enthusiasm for his own little line of work had made trouble on a mission. Sometimes you have to take people’s toys away.

  The sound of very loud prayer drifted to us from Sepawit’s house as we approached. Was it my imagination, or were the people standing around eyeing me with a certain amount of fear and suspicion? The security tech guys stood stolid and silent outside the door. A lady named Anucwa, one of the bossy wise women, approached us cautiously.

  “Uncle Sky Coyote, I think you’d better kill that prisoner. He’s saying some terrible things about you. I don’t believe any of it, of course, but people are starting to talk.”

  “Yes, I thought this would happen.” I looked sidelong at Imarte. “What is he saying, sweetheart?”

  “Oh, all sorts of nonsense … that you’re the king of the nunasis, for one thing. Which is ridiculous, of course; but he knows a lot of other things that are true. He was sitting in there all night yelling about you, and about all of us here. Calling for people he’s never met, but he knows their names and all about their families. We’re all wondering how he knows so much about us. I told everybody he must be a sorcerer.” She looked at me expectantly.

  “Good for you!” I patted her on the behind. “You guessed right. Will you be a love and go tell the rest of them that? And not to worry about the things he says. He’s just trying to scare everybody. I’m taking him away from here today.”

  “I’d better go in and talk to him,” murmured Imarte, which was as close to an apology as I was going to get from her.

  “You do that, babe.” I watched as she and Jensen slunk away into Sepawit’s house. Sepawit, right. Must talk to him.

  I found him sitting outside Kaxiwalic’s, where he’d been staying with his wife and the baby. The kid was crawling around on his lap, eating most of his breakfast for him. He didn’t seem to mind. But when he looked up to wish me good morning, even he had a different look in his eyes.

  “Has he told You about Sumewo yet?” he asked.

  “I expect to find out today,�
� I temporized. Damn, I’d forgotten to ask Imarte about that. Well, I’d go ask the guy myself. “You’re getting your house back tonight, too.”

  “Oh, good,” he said listlessly. “The baby’s already broken a couple of Kaxiwalic’s belongings. He’s a bachelor, You know, so he leaves things lying around …”

  “I’m sorry.” I sat down beside him. “I’ll pay for any damage.” The baby offered me a grubby fistful of acorn mush, then changed his mind and ate it himself.

  “Oh, that’s all right,” Sepawit said. He was a million miles away. “You don’t suppose … What if he is still alive, Sky Coyote?”

  “Does that seem real likely to you?” I asked him.

  “No, but … that man has been going on and on about what a loving god Chinigchinix is, as long as you don’t cross Him. He explained that Chinigchinix doesn’t want everybody killed, just made to worship Him. He says his people haven’t been making war on the other tribes. They’ve just been making them see the truth—His truth—and as soon as the other tribes accept that, then they all live like brothers. Not that I believe a story like that for a minute, but there might be some truth in it. It wouldn’t make any sense to kill off all the other tribes you meet—I mean, who would you trade with?—and you can only take so many slaves. I just don’t see what the point is of this insisting that everybody believe in the same god.”

  “He’s a jealous god, that’s all, and He doesn’t want any attention paid to anybody else,” I explained. “Children are like that, sometimes. New baby gets born, big sister wants mother to pay attention just to her and not to the new one. You can’t give in to gods when they demand crazy things of you, or there’ll be no end to the things they expect you to do. You know that tribe down south I told you about, the really rich one? They hooked up with a god who told them they had to give Him human hearts to eat, every day, and blood between meals.”

  Sepawit shuddered. “What an awful god! What did they do?”

  “Well, they sure as hell didn’t want to tear out their own hearts to feed their god, so they had to make war on their neighbors all the time so they’d have captives’ hearts to feed Him. Pretty soon all their neighbors hated them. Also, they had dead bodies piling up—which they took to eating, because, well, there the bodies were, and how are you going to go hunting deer when you have to make war all the time? And the laugh was, their god dumped them in the end. He just let the white men come marching in and didn’t lift a finger to save his people. Talk about ungrateful!”

  “Well, if you behave like that, you deserve what you get,” remarked Sepawit. “No, what I don’t understand is why this Chinigchinix should want to bother us? We’re good people. We know it’s wrong to steal, lie, and murder. What did we do to get this god on our case?”

  “Well, you’re my children. He doesn’t like me, as you may have noticed,” I said with a rueful grin.

  “It is true that You lie sometimes. And steal,” Sepawit ventured, looking uneasily at me from the corner of his eye. “At least, the stories say so.”

  I shrugged. “I did stupid things when I was young. Didn’t you? As it is with you men, so it is with us Sky People. I think Chinigchinix must be a very young god, or crazy, to be so selfish.”

  “Maybe.” He nodded. He was still watching me. “But, You know, that man seems so friendly. So calm. If they’re all like him, maybe they’re not so bad. Maybe they didn’t harm Sumewo after all.”

  Okay: if you had your choice between believing that your son had suffered a horrible death by torture or believing that he was perfectly all right with good, humane people, which would you rather believe? And if the enemy is good and humane, maybe they’re telling you the truth when they say that your kindly old Uncle is actually the Lord of the Flies Himself. And if that’s the case, what’s your next move?

  I didn’t know how far he’d gone along this path of reasoning, but he wasn’t going to travel any farther.

  “This isn’t fair. You shouldn’t have to suffer the suspense.” I jumped to my feet. “I’ll get an answer for you, Sepawit. You need to know, one way or the other.”

  “Thank You,” he called after me.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE

  OUTSIDE THE HOUSE I COULD hear the stranger’s voice raised in earnest entreaty.

  “No! He will preserve you against harm. It’s only the unbelievers upon whom He looses his avengers. You have only to agree to this, and I will initiate you into the Hidden Mysteries.”

  Imarte’s voice was strained but courteous: “Please believe that I have nothing but the greatest reverence for your sacred stories. Myths tell us many beautiful truths about ourselves—”

  “They are NOT stories!” shouted the stranger. “They are Sacred Truth! Can’t you understand that if you deny them, you will be damned for all time?”

  “He wants you to convert, doesn’t he?” I said, ducking in through the doorway. “Hell, honey, go along with it. He’ll be a lot more cooperative.”

  “I won’t insult him by lying to him,” she replied stiffly. In Chumash, she told him: “Sir, I want to know more of what you have to tell me. But you must understand that I am only a vessel of the truth. My personal faith is not the issue here.”

  “Yes, it is.” He was staring at her with the most betrayed expression—where had I seen a face like that recently? “If you yourself have no faith, you can’t carry it to others. I can never reveal what is hidden to the likes of you! You are hollow!”

  “Never worked with one of this kind, have you?” I said, crouching down across from her. “True believers aren’t real receptive to the idea that what they’re telling you is just mythology. Doesn’t matter how appreciative of their culture you are, Imarte. You want my advice, you’ll fall down on the floor this minute in a foaming-at-the-mouth screeching fit of revelation from Chinigchinix Himself. Otherwise you’re not getting a step further with this guy.”

  But it seemed my advice was badly timed. The stranger turned his head to stare at me, and he was wroth.

  “Now I see the trick!” he hissed. “You’ve wasted my time with this woman, when I might have been out doing His Will! Oh, Thief, you are pathetic. Do you think a few hours’ delay will prevent me from accomplishing what I set out to do?”

  I had a snappy comeback on the tip of my tongue, but the guy vanished before I could use it.

  It seems that all the while he’d been praying so loud, in there by himself, he’d also managed to free his hands. Then (so far as we could tell later) he’d managed to make a hole in the wall directly behind him, and cover it again with tules so it wouldn’t show. This was Super Commando Missionary, after all. Since he’d fixed himself an escape route he could have used at any time, it must have been only the prospect of converting a couple of spirits that made him stick around.

  “Oh, no!” Imarte sobbed, but I was out the door ahead of her.

  Security! Your rabbit’s loose and running! I broadcast. Contain only! No force! Do not lay hands on the guy!

  Shocked affirmatives bounced through the ether. The missionary was going for his martyrdom, I’d bet. However things turned out now, nobody could see me or mine so much as touch him, or I’d be playing into his hands. He was running ahead of me, dodging and feinting, and he was quite a little sprinter; but he hadn’t played for the Black Legend All-Stars like I had. We paralleled each other all the way to the sacred enclosure, with the astonished Chumash watching us. Some of them took up the chase. Oh, great: now he’d have his audience. In front of the whale bones he pulled up, daring me to come closer and prevent sacrilege. I kept my distance, but an outraged priest came out to see what was going on and caught him by the arm. He whirled and struck the reverend gentleman hard. The priest oophed and dropped to his knees, clutching his stomach.

  “You see, people of Humashup?” the stranger cried. “It is a sign! The Thief has not caught me, and your own priest kneels to my Lord! The One True God has sent me as a friend to you, to tell you the danger you’re in! Coyote told you a
story about invasions, and persuaded you to go with him to an unknown place, lest you all be destroyed—and all the while he has destroyed you! Look around at yourselves! What’s become of your village? Where are the things that made you what you are? You’ve sold them all to spirits! You are as naked as corpses, without even gifts to take into your graves! And make no mistake about it, people of Humashup, you’re going to your graves. Do you know where he’s taking you? I have seen the place! He’s taking you to Raven Point, where the spirits of the dead travel! Let him deny it, but I’ve seen his spirits preparing the place!”

  Sir? Containment achieved.

  Gosh, thanks a lot. Are you in range to try a disruption?

  That’s against the code, sir—

  Heads were turning, people were staring at me. “Of course we’re going out on Raven Point,” I replied. “That’s where the Rainbow Bridge is. You know any other way to get to paradise?”

  “But he’s not taking you over the bridge!” riposted the stranger. “You’ll all go down under the water, where the Lord’s avengers will tear you to pieces, flesh and souls! Don’t let him do this to you, people of Humashup! There are no white men coming! At Syuxtun, at Humaliwu, at Muwu, your neighbors are living in peace, preparing to receive the Glad Truth of the Lord! They aren’t uprooting their lives and casting off their property, like people about to die!”

  Nobody was looking at me now, they were staring at the ground or looking at one another with fear in their eyes. There were murmurs.

  I’ll take responsibility. I don’t want you to kill the guy, anyway; just give him a seizure. Grand mal, preferably.

  On your order and under protest, then.

  What a bunch of Goody Two-Shoes. The old Enforcers wouldn’t have blinked at an order like that; but then, they’d never have let the missionary escape in the first place.