Tommaso often thinks to himself how the Clevern are the superior species. They are clearly more adaptable and by far smarter than any but the most extreme genius humans. If their home planetoid sky was not an impenetrable mess of continuous clouds and violent winds and lightning they may have reached into space long before humanity. He could well be riding in a Clevern ship as a talented but foreign visitor was that the case.
In due time, the ship arrives in Sol system. The translation into normal space brings the ship very near an efficient orbit from Mars. Side space math and engineering are very much advanced. It would be possible to place a colony ship into the atmosphere of Mars if you bypassed the safety protocols on the side space math terminals.
It takes the CS Brian Neil seventeen hours to make an orbit and place the ship in position for a lander to be taken down to the surface of the planet. Tommaso calls the Bishop of Rome to make his appointment. The Bishop, who is physically in the Vatican inside the heart of Rome does manage the Pope’s day schedule, even though the Pope has lived on Mars for over four centuries. In the early days of the expansion into the asteroid belt on Sol system, the Pope moved his apartments to Mars to be nearer the asteroid belt and the overwhelming numbers of Catholics in the system. At that time, the asteroid belts had over a billion Catholic souls, compared to three hundred million on Earth.
The Bishop of Rome quickly makes an appointment for Tommaso and his companions for that same day for dinner with the Pontiff. Dinner in his private apartment it is. Tommaso ensures there will be no issue with Azire and the colony of Clevern attending.
“They are welcome” the Bishop assures him.
The drop ship is cramped. Azire and Tomasso and exactly seventy of the Clevern sit strapped into crash seats in the passenger compartment. Within moments the pilots have them detached from the colony ship and descending through the thin Martian atmosphere into the weak Martian gravity well. The viewports show an amazing series of man-made buildings and cities and manufacturing facilities and mines on the surface of the planet. Ships cross along the side of the drop ship at regular intervals. Large ships carrying liquid water and compressed gases, small speedy ships with limited cargo space and even some brightly colored police ships. One is right on the edge of visibility escorting the drop ship along to the landing pad as well.
The pilots make the landing look easy, coasting down to the surface and gently settling down using a minimum amount of ion drive propellant. The ships settle and the docking ring is mated by automated machinery. Within a moment the passengers are exiting the craft and entering the huge Martian habitats. The volume of space inside the landing port habitat is amazing. It is easily three hundred meters across and the roof in half of that in height. The Clevern begin to scramble around the furniture and the viewports and take in the newness of the space. The Pope has an agent at the space port who quickly organizes everyone, including the many Clevern into a group and they begin their travels along the many slide walks towards the Pope’s apartments. The agent of the Pope has thoughtfully brought along a slide chair for Tommaso as well.
It takes nearly an hour of continuous brisk walking. An hour of walking under higher gravities would be impossible for Tommaso, but under the weaker Martian gravity well he manages just fine for ten minutes, then he reluctantly agrees to his place in the slide chair. The Clevern scamper in front and behind the group showing an almost limitless amount of energy. Several climb on top of Tommaso or his chair then bound off to examine new things randomly.
At long last, they arrive at the large Papal apartments. The well dressed and heavily-armed Swiss guards quickly and professionally screen the visitors and then escort them inside the grounds. The group crosses the largest open space in a habitat they have ever seen. The well-manicured earth grass lawn of the Pope’s is a curiosity for the Clevern and for Azire both. They spend a long moment examining the individual blades of grass and scampering around playing on it.
The Swiss Guard accompanying them finally urges the group to continue moving as the Pope is waiting to have dinner with them. They eagerly comply.
The Pope’s apartment is just that. A large residence. The Pope lives alone in a magnificent structure loosely organized into a large apartment that consists of two bedrooms and three bathrooms, a large foyer, a large well-engineered meeting room and a large kitchen and dining room combination. The Pope greets them by himself wearing normal clothes. He does allow all seventy-two persons to kiss his ring and kneel for a brief blessing. This takes nearly twenty minutes. When at last they finish he announces, “Dinner is getting cold. Let’s go eat!” The Pope is as slow as Tommaso. They are of similar age.
For the Clevern, there is a large bowl filled with earth and sand and worms and roots. They chitter and squeak in delight. For Azire, there is a large globe full of live insects. He licks his lips and opens his terrible mouth wide. The Pope urges Tommaso to sit next to him, and they enjoy a plain but excellent bowl of potato soup and then a salad consisting mostly of leeks and greens and what Tommaso thinks is a tuber or a type of plantain. It takes several minutes for the large group to eat and exchange pleasantries. The Pope is inviting and charming and seems down to earth and regal and magnificent at the same time.
After the last of the dinner plates have been taken away, the Pope at long last asks for a moment of their time to discuss the reason they are gathered here. Rather the reason that Tommaso has been ordered here.
The Pope begins to pace the room while he speaks, as is his fashion. He uses a cane that he spends a very thoughtful moment looking at before he begins to walk. “Tommaso. Tommaso Aquinas. Explorer of the galaxy. Son of the Saints Brother Lewis and Sister Jones. Beloved son of the Catholic Church and famous explorer. Hero of the Catholic Church as well.” Tommaso stirs uneasily under the attentive words of the Pope.
The Pope continues. “I have had the good fortune to know many faithful and good men and women. Many faithful stewards of the faith. Many exceptional men and women who led the exploration of the void. I knew my predecessor very well. He was the best man I have even known. My reign as Pope is as a candle is to a battle laser compared to that great man.”
He walks directly behind Tommaso and places his hands on his head. He has oil in his hands. Tommaso remains still. He works the oil into his scalp slowly and methodically. “I anoint you Tommaso. I bless you. I adore you. I love you. The Church adores and loves you. Hundreds of billions of Catholics all over the known galaxy adore and love you. It is more than just you of course. It is the knowledge of your birth and your parentage. Your beloved and departed and Sainted parents. You are a connection to the beginning of the greatness of our past and a part of the greatness of our present.” The Pope stops and moves to Azire now. Azire is wearing a specially adapted breathing apparatus that allows most of his head to be exposed. Only his mouth slit and eyes are covered.
The Pope continues his exercise of anointing and works scented oil into the hardened leather skull of Azire. Azire begins to weep openly at the emotional acceptance of the blessing. He lowers his head and rocks back in forth in emotion when the Pope finishes. He cannot speak over the rush of emotions.
The Pope approaches the nearest Clevern. He repeats the process on the smaller and harrier head of the alien. All of the Clevern sit quietly and shake with emotion. The Pope takes his time. The small alien creature. No. The small alien person closes his eyes and shakes with emotion as well. The small and specialized breathing apparatus barely visible as it snakes its way into the aliens breathing organ in a colorless tube. The Pope finishes.
“Tommaso, you are too important to the Church to be allowed to perish from this earth.” There, he has said it. It is out in the open.
The Pope quietly announces in his native Italian. “Ho tradito la vostra fiducia.”
Again in English. “I have betrayed your trust.”
Tommaso opens his eyes wide and exhales. “Your Holiness...” he begins to stutter.
The Pope takes his
hands. His aged hands. And holds them firmly. He looks at his walking cane again. “Tommaso, you represent more than you can imagine to the Catholics of the galaxy. If you age away and die. Which will certainly be within the next few years. Our Church and faith will take a huge collective casualty. A huge collective hit. A huge collective loss. An irreplaceable loss. You know this.”
“Tommaso, let me show you something. This thing. This collection of papers has only ever been seen by Papal eyes. Passed from Pope to Pope. Not even the Bishop of Rome or any trusted Cardinals have ever seen these papers. Just the eyes of the Popes.” The Pope makes a motion for several of the Clevern to gather around as well as Azire. He opens a gilded leather book with a large key from his desk drawer. The leather-bound pages contain hundreds or even thousands of individually written pages. Some in large, formal script. Some laboriously written by weakened eyes and hands in barely readable scrawls.
“Here is the beginning of the book we have the writings of Shemayon Keppa. Do you know of whom I speak?”
Azire and Tommaso both gasp and begin to shake with religious emotion.
“Shemayon Keppa is the Syriac name of the apostle of apostles. Peter. Saint Peter. The father of the Catholic Church. This book contains his innermost concerns and wishes for the future church.”
The Pope flips several pages into the book. “Here is Peter discussing his hope and prayer that the various works of Jesus may be organized and recorded. Tommaso, look at me. This is Peter discussing his hope that he could consolidate the writings of the apostles and the early words of Jesus into the Bible.” He flips several more pages into the large book. “Here are the words of Pope Anacletus the First, written in his native Greek. He was a worrier. He obsessed that he was not worthy to be the Pope. But, like Anacletus the Second, he was a great man and a great Pope.” He flips several more pages. “Here are the inner thoughts of Pope Hyginus, the short-lived Pope. Strangely he wrote the most in this tome. These pages go on for over 2,500 years of Church history, Tommaso.”
Tommaso continues to shake and now he is crying with religious fervor. “Why.” He barely can get it out. “Why are you showing me this?”
The Pope lowers his head. “I have read it all, Tommaso. Including the pages of my immediate predecessors. The pages of men who knew your Sainted mother and Sainted father well and personally. These men before me. They wrestled with the great questions of their ages. Whether or not to exterminate an entire alien species. The cross that Pope bore. He could never sleep a night’s rest again. He could never taste food again. The decision destroyed the man that was the Pope. He cried himself to sleep for the rest of his short years. His darkest fears and doubts are recorded in this book.”
The Pope raises his eyes to meet Tommaso’s eyes now. The man’s deep gray eyes meet Tommaso’s blue green eyes firmly. “The men that were the Pope that knew your parents, these men wish that they had insisted the two receive longevity treatments. They lament that the two saints were allowed to leave us so soon.”
The Pope continues. “The blessed men and women of the Swiss Guard outside this door. These fantastic and faithful warriors for the Church. They have all received longevity and other treatments to enhance their abilities. One of these guards is quite capable of protecting any Pope. There are hundreds of them outside these doors. What fantastic abilities these men have. They can run at break neck speeds untiring for hours. They can lift weights beyond the ability of any un-augmented human. They can see at night. They can hear far better than any animal that has ever lived. They can suffer pain and deprivation without flinching. These men, these wonderful beautiful capable men… They take the treatments willingly. With love and faith in their heart.”
“For centuries now we insist on adapting our space crews with modern procedures. They all have had enhanced senses and longevity treatments. Any ailments or disease is ruthlessly treated and stamped out, and the crew, the Mother Church, and all of mankind benefit from this.”
“On thousands of systems faithful Catholics, members of the parish and those with holy oaths alike, routinely take treatment for their diseases and take longevity treatments. Many are augmented. On some systems, entire populations of Catholics are augmented.”
“This I also command routinely to our important Cardinals and Bishops. They take the treatments, most without complaint. All take the treatments.”
“Tommaso, I have read the thoughts of the Popes that knew your parents. I will not record similar thoughts about you. You will survive. You will be rejuvenated. You will be a fantastic and beloved father figure of the Church for generations or centuries yet to come, as you have been for those generations in the past that knew you and your parents.”
Tommaso breaks his eyes away from the Pope now. He is just beginning to understand. His fists shake. His head dips.
“I have taken your choice from you, Tommaso. The potato soup we ate earlier. Medical Nano bots. The most advanced kind.” The Pope takes Tommaso’s hands again and begins to cry. “Please forgive this man. Forgive that I have taken this choice from you. As a man, I weep that I have betrayed you, while as a Pope I rejoice that I have saved you for our future.”
For the longest time, Tommaso and the Pope hold hands and cry. Tommaso is inconsolable.
Azire screams his angst that his friend is so hurt. He turns over his chair and breaks it. He paces the room furious. In his fury and angst he is a sight to behold. He clenches his hands and fingers tightly and prays and screams again as he paces. Two Swiss Guards enter the room from a hidden door. They take no action, but they watch Azire calmly and professionally. The Clevern, for once, are still. They hold themselves tightly to each other and chitter and squeak quietly.
Tommaso lifts his head and looks around the room. It is brighter somehow. Details are finer. He can make out details of the paneling and tapestries that he missed on the way into the room. The Clevern are quiet and still, but still talking in their unique clicks and squeaks among themselves.
Tommaso can make out the sounds and understand the words. Their complex language, that takes a world class artificial intelligence to translate. He can understand it. As he can understand his brother Azire as he screams again and paces the room. Tommaso thinks to himself. “He is in more pain than I am.” Tommaso crosses the room and takes his brother in both hands and holds him close. This close he notices the complex scents coming off his brother. The anger and fear musk being generated by the Clevern as well.
It has been less than thirty minutes since he ate the soup. The Nano bots are hard at work replicating themselves and making changes to his body. His eyesight. His hearing. His smell. He can also feel the slight ache of the pain soon to come as his muscle and skeletal system undergoes improvements.
Tommaso notices that the Pope is standing and walking now without his cane. Of course. He has eaten the same soup. The aged Pope has condemned Tommaso to another century or more of life, but he has condemned himself as well. Tommaso holds his friend Azire even tighter. There is a real chance now that they will get to grow old together. Tommaso weeps and rejoices at the same time. Azire screams at the injustice of it all.
Deep in his muscles and tissues the Nano bots swarm and replicate themselves and rebuild and rejuvenate tissues. They strengthen bone and sinew and tendon and cartilage. Tomasso begins to ache in every joint in his body, every tissue becomes a deep rooted ache of lactic acid and rapidly growing and healing tissue.
Men enter the dining room. They have two stretchers. One for Tomasso and one for the Pope. Their timing is excellent. Tommaso can no longer stand on his own and his brother Azire is holding him up. Azire lovingly lays his brother on the clean cloth of the stretcher. The Pope is hustled into his own stretcher and the two are hurried out of the apartments and into a close by medical facility. Intravenous fluids and tremendous amounts of biological building block material are pumped into the two men.
The Nano bots force both men into a deep medically induced coma. They will remain uncons
cious for over a week while their bodies rebuild themselves. Tomasso dreams. In his dreams his mother and father live, as they always do.
His father lumbers over his mother. His two meter large white frame is barely enclosed in his ill-fitting robes and his awkward belt tassel and sandals. His hair is unkempt. Tomasso never knew the man to comb his hair. Brother Lewis’s hair and his cheeks always seemed to be the same color of red. His ancestors grew in northern climes, rarely seeing the sun.
His mother seems frail and slight. Her slim black frame could not be more different from his fathers. Her African ancestors were slight, small people who existed for tens of centuries on the grass and prairies of midcontinent Africa. Living from a meager subsistence diet of gathering nuts and roots along with the occasional small animal they could snare or kill with a rock or their small pointed atlatl.
Both are welcoming and happy, as is the case in all of Tomasso dreams. As a couple they were nontraditional, but they were always so happy in each other’s company.
In his dream, his father and mother hold hands. They always do. Tomasso can feel the ache of rebirth and healing. Even in a deep medical coma he understands what is happening. The Nano bots open old paths in his mind allowing him to more vividly remember his life’s experiences. He can more easily put his finger on facts and make better and quicker mathematical calculations in his mind.
Thomas Aquinas, Explorer of the galaxy Page 19
