Coyote Rising by Allen Steele

we’re new here, and we need a guide, someone who’s been on Coyote for a while. You’ve already demonstrated a willingness to help us.” He grinned. “Why not join us? We have enough to share with one more.”
    Indeed, they did. I’d seen their supplies and caught myself wondering now and then how I might be able to sneak something out of there without them noticing. Now that Zoltan was practically inviting me to move in with them, such larceny was unnecessary. All I had to do was play the friendly native, and I’d never have to cut bamboo or dig potatoes ever again.
    Still, there was no question that this was a religious cult. Not only that, but they followed someone who looked like a bat. The whole thing was spooky, and I wasn’t ready to start wearing a white robe.
    “And it doesn’t bother you that I’m not . . . I mean, one of you?” Several people frowned at this. “No offense,” I quickly added, “but I’ve already told you that I’m not a believer. Hell—I mean, heck—I don’t even know what you guys believe in .”
    That eased things a bit. Frowns turned to smiles, and a few people chuckled. “Most of us weren’t believers when we joined,” Renaldo began. “We soon learned that—”
    “Your sharing our beliefs isn’t necessary,” Shirow said, interrupting Renaldo with an upraised hand. “No one here will proselytize or try to convert you, so long as you neither say or do anything intended to diminish our faith. In fact, I enjoy the fact that we have an atheist in our midst.” His face stretched into a broad grin that exposed his fangs. “Benjamin the Unbeliever . . . you know, I rather like the sound of that.”
    More laughter, but not unkind. I found myself laughing with them. I was beginning to like Zoltan; appearances notwithstanding, he seemed like an easygoing sort of guy. And his people weren’t all that weird, once you got to know them. Another glance at Greer, and I realized again that I’d like to get to know her most of all.
    “Well, if it’s Gunga Din you’re looking for, I’m your man.” I stood up, brushed off the back of my trousers. “I’ll come back tomorrow and bring my stuff with me.”
    “Just like that?” Zoltan looked at me askance. “Don’t you have any questions?”
    Once again, I was being put on the spot. Everyone gazed at me, awaiting my response. It seemed as if Zoltan was testing me in some way, trying to find out where I was coming from. Oh, I had plenty of questions, all right, but I didn’t want to screw the deal. So I picked the most obvious one.
    “Sure, I do,” I said. “How come you look the way you do?”
    The smiles vanished, replaced by expressions of reverence. Some turned their eyes toward the fire; others folded their hands together, looked down at the ground. For a moment I thought I’d blown it. Greer didn’t look away, though, nor did Zoltan.
    “A good question,” he said quietly, “and one that deserves an answer.” Then he shook his head. “But not tonight. Come back tomorrow, and perhaps we’ll tell you . . . if and when you’re ready for the truth.”
    He fell silent once more. My audience with him was over; I was being excused. I mumbled a clumsy good-bye, then left the warmth of the campfire and began trudging back through the cold to my squalid littletent. Yet I didn’t feel humiliated. The opposite, in fact. I had just stumbled upon the best scam since Abraham, and all I had to do was go along for the ride.
    Or at least so I thought. What I didn’t know was where the ride would eventually take one.
     

     
     
    Next morning, I packed up my gear, folded my tent, and bid a not-so-fond farewell to Long Journey turf. The camp chief was surprised to see me go, but hardly choked up about it; he’d never liked me very much, and the feeling was mutual. He’d lose rent for a while, but a new ship had just arrived and eventually he’d find some poor bastard who’d want my space. The few friends I had