Soothsayer

by Mike Resnick

  “Lots.”

  “Including Carlos and the Kid?”

  “Yes,” said Penelope. “But they won't catch us before we reach McCallister.”

  “How long will we stay on McCallister II?” asked the Mouse.

  Penelope frowned. “I don't know.”

  “An hour? A day? A week?”

  “It depends on what I tell the Mock Turtle,” said Penelope. “And I have to decide if it's right or wrong to tell him.”

  “To tell him what?”

  “I have to decide,” repeated Penelope, falling silent. A moment later she was cuddling Maryanne, as if for comfort.

  Five hours later the Mock Turtle began braking its ship to sublight speed, and twenty minutes after that it set the ship down at the small spaceport just beyond the Tradertown.

  “I shall add fuel to the ship's reservoirs while you seek nourishment,” announced the Mock Turtle as the three of them climbed through the hatch.

  “Don't,” said Penelope, who had taken Maryanne out of the ship with her.

  The Mouse was startled, but the alien merely inclined its head.

  “It shall be as you wish, Soothsayer,” it said. “I will wait for you here.”

  “Please come with us,” said Penelope. “We shouldn't be separated now.”

  The Mock Turtle fell into step behind them without another word.

  They entered the spaceport's small restaurant, and the waiter was as pleasant as Penelope had predicted. While they were waiting for their food, the Mouse turned to the girl.

  “All right,” she said. “Are you ready to tell me what's going on?”

  “Yes,” said Penelope unhappily. She paused. “We have to do a bad thing.”

  “What thing?”

  “We have to steal a spaceship.”

  “I thought that was what you had in mind,” said the Mouse.

  “I don't want to,” said Penelope. “It's wrong to steal. But if we don't change ships, they'll catch us very soon.”

  The waiter returned with their order, and the Mouse remained silent until he had once more moved out of earshot.

  “Will changing ships fool all of them?” she asked.

  “Most of them,” replied Penelope. “They'll all find out what we did, but by then we'll be so far away that they won't be able to follow us.”

  “They have subspace radios,” said the Mouse. “Why won't they stay in contact with each other?”

  “Because each of them wants the reward for me,” answered Penelope. “None of them will help any of the others to catch me.”

  “Which ship must we appropriate, Soothsayer?” asked the Mock Turtle.

  “That one,” said Penelope, pointing to a sleek blue ship that was standing, poised for takeoff, on the field beyond the hangars.

  “The blue one?” asked the Mouse.

  “Yes.”

  “It's right out in the open,” she said dubiously. “Maybe we'd be better off taking a different one.”

  “You must not dispute the Soothsayer,” said the Mock Turtle calmly. “She has foreseen that we need this particular ship. That is all we have to know.”

  “I'm not disputing her,” answered the Mouse defensively. “I'd just like to know why she chose that one.”

  “Most of the others have people aboard them,” said Penelope, “Or else they aren't fast enough, or they need fuel.”

  Penelope finished her sandwich and started picking pieces of fruit out of her fruit cup.

  “This is very good,” she said. “But I don't like my tea very much. Can I have some milk instead?”

  “Yes, Soothsayer,” said the Mock Turtle, getting to its feet and walking off to find the waiter.

  “I wish he'd call me Penelope,” the little girl confided to the Mouse. “I feel funny when he calls me Soothsayer.”

  “Well, that's what you are, you know,” said the Mouse. “A soothsayer is someone who can see the future.”

  “It doesn't work that way,” said Penelope. “You see lots of futures, and then you try to make the one you want happen.” She looked at the Mouse's plate. “You only ate half your sandwich. Aren't you hungry?”

  “I'll take the other half along with me,” answered the Mouse. “What I mostly am is anxious to get moving again. We've still got thirty ships closing in on us.”

  “They won't catch us, Mouse,” said Penelope as the Mock Turtle returned carrying a glass of milk. “Not on McCallister, anyway.”

  “Just the same, I'll feel a lot more secure once we're back in space,” said the Mouse.

  “We're not ready to leave yet,” said Penelope. She smiled at the Mock Turtle. “Thank you for the milk.”

  “When will we be ready to leave?” asked the Mouse.

  “In a few minutes.” She drained the glass of milk. “That was very good. I like milk.”

  “You're not being very communicative,” said the Mouse, trying to keep the irritation from her voice.

  “I don't know what that means.”

  “I mean you're not telling me what you're thinking.”

  “I'm sorry, Mouse,” apologized Penelope. “I was just thinking that I'd like to get Maryanne a lace dress. The ones that we had sent up to our suite on Calliope were nice, but she needs something really pretty.”

  The Mouse sighed deeply. “All right. Have it your way.”

  “You look mad, Mouse,” said Penelope with a worried expression on her face. “Did I do something wrong?”

  “The Soothsayer cannot, by definition, do anything wrong,” said the Mock Turtle, its voice as placid as ever.

  “I'm not mad, just frustrated,” said the Mouse.

  “What did I say?” asked Penelope.

  “It's what you didn't say,” explained the Mouse. “I know you have a reason for not going to the ship right now, just as you had a reason for landing on McCallister II and for wanting to steal that particular ship. But I can't see the future, and since the only thing I know for sure is that all those bounty hunters are getting closer to us with each passing minute, I'd like to know why we're sitting here and exactly what we're waiting for.”

  “Oh, is that all?” said Penelope, relieved that she had not done something more serious to offend the Mouse. “Do you see the fat man in the leather tunic who's sitting at the far end of the restaurant?”

  The Mouse glanced quickly across the restaurant.

  “Yes.”

  “It's his ship that we're stealing,” said Penelope. “In about five or six minutes, he's going to get up from his table and walk into the bathroom. He'll be there a long time, and we can just walk out across the field and get into the ship and leave.”

  “Won't he report us to spaceport security?”

  Penelope shook her head. “He's got something on the ship he doesn't want anyone to know about. He'll buy another ship and try to find us himself, but he won't report us.”

  “What's he smuggling?” asked the Mouse. “Drugs? Money?”

  “I don't know.”

  “And security won't stop us?”

  “He's already given them money not to pay any attention to the ship. They'll think we're working for him.” She looked at the Mouse with a worried expression on her face. “Do you like me again now?”

  “Of course I like you,” the Mouse assured her. “I just get a little upset when I can't see what you can see.”

  “I wish I couldn't see it,” said Penelope earnestly. “Then maybe everyone would leave me alone.”

  “You have been blessed with a great gift, Soothsayer,” said the Mock Turtle. “In time you will learn to appreciate it.”

  Penelope seemed about to argue with the alien, then shrugged and went back to picking pieces of fruit out of the cup. A few minutes later the heavyset man got to his feet and walked to the restroom. As soon as he was out of sight the Mouse, Penelope, and the Mock Turtle rose from their seats and casually walked out to the ship.

  “It's not locked,” said Penelope as they approached the hatch.

  The
hatch door slid back as they came within range of the ship's sensor, and one by one they climbed into the interior of the ship. It was considerably larger than the Mock Turtle's vessel, and was designed for human occupants. There was a cockpit, of course, and a well-equipped galley, two sleeping cabins, and a locked storage compartment.

  “The controls are unfamiliar to me,” said the Mock Turtle after examining the instrumentation. “And while I can speak Terran, I have great difficulty reading it.”

  “No problem,” said the Mouse, moving past him into the cockpit and seating herself on the pilot's chair. “Its computer has a Gorshen/Blomberg module. We just tell it what we want, and it takes care of the rest.” She turned to her companions. “Strap yourselves in.”

  They took off less than a minute later, and ten minutes after that the computer announced that it was ready to break out of orbit and attain light speeds.

  “Time for a decision,” said the Mouse. “I've got to give the navigational computer a destination.”

  “Soothsayer?” said the Mock Turtle, turning to Penelope and awaiting her decision.

  “I don't know the name of the world,” said Penelope.

  The Mouse ordered the computer to create a holographic map of the Inner Frontier.

  “All right,” she announced. “This is Summergold, this is McCallister, and that's Last Chance ‘way over there.”

  The little girl studied the simulation for a long moment. Finally she extended an index finger and pointed to a distant star that had no near neighbors.

  “This one,” she said.

  The Mouse instructed the navigational computer to lay in a course for the indicated star, then asked for a readout.

  “Where are we bound?” asked the Mock Turtle.

  “The star is called Bowman 26,” replied the Mouse.

  “A curious name.”

  The Mouse squinted at the readout. “It was the 26th star system mapped by Pioneer Milton Bowman almost 3,200 years ago. The third of its five planets was colonized in 288 G.E., and was initially named Van der Gelt III, after the man who financed the colonization.”

  “Initially?” asked the Mock Turtle. “Then its name has been changed?”

  She nodded. “The entire colony was slaughtered by a madman named Conrad Bland in 341 G.E., which was when it received the name it's now known by: Killhaven.”

  “Does anyone reside there now?”

  “Let's see,” said the Mouse, looking at the readout again. “Yes. It was deserted for almost three millennia, but now it's got a couple of hundred farmers, and a small religious group trying to create their own Utopia, based on an agricultural community from the days when we were still Earthbound. I gather than the planet itself is very scenic, and most of the dwellings were designed to look like Victorian farmhouses from old Earth. There's nothing in the readout about a Tradertown, but I suppose there must be one; Killhaven's so far off the beaten track that I imagine the cartographers are a few years behind the times.”

  The Mock Turtle had no more questions, and the Mouse ordered the holographic map to dissolve. Then she left the cockpit and made her way back to the storage compartment.

  “Now let's see exactly what kind of contraband we're carrying,” she said.

  The alien showed no interest in helping her, but Penelope, with a child's curiosity, joined her at the door to the compartment.

  The Mouse ordered the computer to unlock the door. It replied that it could not do so without the proper code.

  “Damn!” she muttered. “I guess we'll have to do it the hard way.”

  She looked around for a tool kit, found one, and spent the next two hours tinkering with the lock mechanism, all the while wishing that Merlin, to whom no lock was a mystery, had not joined the opposition.

  Finally, when she was all but ready to admit defeat, she heard a faint beeping sound, and the door slid back into a bulkhead. She crouched over and entered the low-ceilinged compartment.

  “Well, how about this!” she exclaimed a moment later. “Four bags of alphanella seeds.”

  “What are alphanella seeds?” asked Penelope.

  “A hallucinogenic drug. They're outlawed everywhere in the Democracy, and on most of the Frontier worlds as well.”

  “A what kind of drug?”

  “Hallucinogenic,” repeated the Mouse. “When you chew on the seed you go into a trace and see all kinds of strange things. As often as not the experience kills you ... but if you survive the first time, you're an addict the rest of your life. You forget to eat, you don't sleep, all you do it chase after the seeds.”

  “Why would anyone want to chew the seeds, then?”

  The Mouse shrugged. “The ultimate thrill,” she said without much conviction. “Don't ask me. I never did understand seed chewers.” She patted the bags fondly, then walked back out of the storage compartment. “Alphanella seeds! Who'd have thought it?”

  “What difference does it make?” said the Mock Turtle. “None of us will partake of them.”

  “In case it's escaped your attention,” she pointed out, “we're not exactly swimming in money. I've got about 2,500 credits left from Calliope, and I suspect you have even less.”

  “That is true,” admitted the alien.

  “Well, then? These bags must be worth a few hundred thousand credits apiece. What do you say?”

  “I say leave them aboard the ship,” replied the Mock Turtle. “They will destroy anyone who uses them.”

  “The way I look at it, anyone stupid enough to become a seed chewer deserves whatever happens to him,” said the Mouse with a shrug.

  “Let us ask the Soothsayer.”

  “That's not fair,” said the Mouse heatedly. “If she says no, we'll be stuck on a strange world with no money and half a dozen bounty hunters chasing us, and if she says yes you'll have made her an active participant in drug dealing. No child should have to make such a decision.”

  “She is the Soothsayer,” replied the Mock Turtle. “She will choose correctly.”

  He turned expectantly toward the little girl.

  “We should leave the alphanella seeds where we found them,” said Penelope without hesitation.

  “But we've barely got enough money to get by for a few days on Killhaven,” said the Mouse.

  “We won't need it.”

  “What about when we leave?” insisted the Mouse. “We'll have to have money then.”

  “We're not leaving Killhaven,” said Penelope.

  “But we're still being followed.”

  “I know.”

  “Then why—?” began the Mouse.

  “Because it's time to stop running away,” said Penelope.

  28.

  It wasn't a Tradertown, not as the Mouse understood Tradertowns. It was just a little cluster of buildings: a restaurant, a general store, a farm implement shop, a seed warehouse, a church, and a two-story frame rooming house.

  There wasn't even a street, just a dirt track that passed in front of the buildings, and it was so filled with ruts that the few vehicles they saw drove about ten feet to the right of it.

  “This is a hell of a place to make a stand against a couple of dozen bounty hunters,” muttered the Mouse as they walked the mile from their spaceship to the town.

  “You must have faith in the Soothsayer's judgment,” said the Mock Turtle placidly.

  “Let the first five ships crash and I'll have a lot more faith,” remarked the Mouse caustically.

  As they passed a pasture of mutated beef cattle, each weighing close to 2,500 pounds, grazing contently on the native grasses, Penelope walked up to the wire fence to stare at them.

  “They're lovely,” said the little girl.

  “They're just cows,” said the Mouse. “A little bigger than most, but no smarter, I'll wager.”

  “Can I pet one, Mouse?” asked Penelope.

  “I don't know why not,” replied the Mouse. “You'll know better than me if it's safe or not.”

  “Thank you.”


  Penelope leaned up against the fence and called to the cattle. Most of them ignored her, but a calf, almost as large as a full-grown Earth cow, stared at her with large, curious eyes and finally came over to the fence.

  “He's very nice,” said Penelope, rubbing the calf's broad forehead between its eyes. “I think he likes me.”

  “I'm sure he does,” said the Mouse.

  Penelope petted the calf for another minute, then rejoined the Mouse and the Mock Turtle. As they began walking toward the buildings again, the calf followed them on its side of the fence until it could go no further, then began bleating plaintively, and finally returned to its gargantuan mother.

  “I wonder if all the animals are that big,” said Penelope.

  “I doubt it,” answered the Mouse. “Probably just the meat animals.”

  Penelope frowned. “I hope nobody wants to eat him when he grows up.”

  “Perhaps they won't,” said the Mouse reassuringly. “I'm sure they keep some for breeding.”

  “Wouldn't it be nice it we could come back here someday and see him all grown up, and pet one of his children?” said the little girl.

  “I'll settle for just getting off the planet in one piece,” said the Mouse.

  They walked past fields of corn and sugar berries, and finally came to what passed for the town.

  “What shall we do now, Soothsayer?” asked the Mock Turtle, oblivious to the curious stares it elicited from within the various shops.

  “Now we wait,” answered Penelope.

  “Right here?” asked the Mouse, surprised.

  “No,” said Penelope. “They won't be here for awhile.”

  “Good,” said the Mouse. “Then let's rent some rooms. I could do with a shower.”

  “Me, too,” said Penelope. She examined her doll thoughtfully. “And Maryanne's all covered with dust.”

  The Mouse headed for the rooming house, and entered it a moment later. It seemed much like the farmhouses of ancient Earth: it was made of wood, and the floor was covered with an inexpensive rug rather than carpeted. The furniture was sturdy and functional, but far from elegant, and despite the displays of fresh flowers there was a scent and feeling of mustiness about the place.

  A floorboard creaked as she walked up to the registration desk, which in this case was simply a wooden table with a thin, weatherworn, elderly man sitting behind it.