Vatican Assassin

by Mike Luoma

Reagan Station began as a military outpost. Now, as Lunar Prime, it thrives as an independent city-state, a hub of commercial activity, a cosmopolitan capitol and neutral territory in the war, home to over two million people. More than just a moon base, Reagan Station is a city unto itself. Built off the main dome are over fifty separate neighborhood areas, engineered and designed to be aesthetically pleasing and diverse as well as functional.

  Most of Reagan Station was constructed in the last half of the 21st century, after a UIN missile strike back in 2062 destroyed most of the first Reagan Station, originally built by the old United Nations as a military security and Mission to Mars base and later ceded to the UTZ. The UIN's missile strike gave them control of the Moon in 2062.

  The UIN took over the moon after their attack forced the UTZ off. They began rebuilding, making improvements and adapting the base to their needs. Nine years later in 2071, the war shifted, the UTZ regained control of the Moon and reestablished Reagan Station.

  Though still technically a military base, the rebuilt Reagan Station's entertainment facilities and landing facilities became commercial ventures, subcontracted to corporate members of the UTZ. The UTZ is driven by commerce, and finds ways to make money in any venture. The facilities became incredibly popular, a gold mine for the subcontractors. The entertainment facilities' growth soon outpaced the UTZ military's developments on the Moon. The Moon became "civilized".

  The employees of these facilities were the moon's new working class. Lunar Prime's new backbone. Many of the workers were non-Christians from Earth, who moved to the Moon to escape the war. As this population increased, as Reagan Station grew, the independent nature of the people of the Moon grew as well. The moon became a refuge for those party to neither side in the bitter conflict. An interesting and independent place, intentionally diverse and tolerant.

  In 2082, Reagan Station became an independent state under UTZ auspices. It's been growing ever since. As it became more city than station, the name began to fade. The Independent government calls Reagan Station “Lunar Prime,” and that's slowly become its name.

  Lunar Prime is lived-in. It's like any other city, with good sections and bad, old, broken-down dark areas and shiny new construction.

  Independent and united in their neutrality, Luna's populace segregates itself into its own smaller, separate areas: The Jewish Section, The Pagan Enclave, The Universal Temple, Chinatown. Their separate sectors spoke off the central hub of old Reagan Station proper and the Main Dome through a series of interconnected corridors and airlocks.

  The Main Dome is at the center of the old station and the city, a giant atrium nearly a mile across, the central hub for the station. Three floors of residences and shops circle the atrium. The dome atop the atrium is clear, allowing a breathtaking view of the stars and Earth.

  Artificial gravity supplements the moon's weak attraction on the floor of the main dome. At the center is a wide, roughly circular pool almost a half a mile in diameter, deliberately overgrown with vegetation and teeming with aquatic life. It's designed as a part of the environmental systems and also to be "aesthetically pleasing." The pool is crisscrossed by two broad walkways lined with trees and bushes. Maples and pines, oaks, elms and Douglas firs, and ferns, hedges and dogwoods, all can be found under the moon's Main Dome.

  There are lilac bushes and stretches of grass surrounding the central pool. Artificial breezes circulate. We try to bring Earth with us, to recreate it best we can. It's been recreated well in the Main Dome of Reagan Station.

  BC is in a deserted part of the Dome. There are cleaners and other maintenance robots around, but no people. This is part of BC's plan. This immediate area has no shops or residences.

  And now, no bag. Not a part of my plan. And my ankle hurts!

  I thought my bag would be safe around here. Maybe it was picked up by Maintenance. That might be worse than getting stolen. They'll make a record of it.

  I think I hope someone stole it. Twisted. Huh, like my ankle. Bad pun. Is that a pun? I don't know...

  BC looks back at the wall of the Main Dome. The circular outer wall of this level of the dome is blank, but above him, on the second level, he can hear the din of people and commerce.

  Where I need to be. The reception hall entrance is back up there, on the other side of the dome.

  I can't go up there looking like this, all in black with my collar off, legs dipped in shit and the rest of me splattered. Real fine company.

  Then there's the Lunar Security Cop I knocked out. She'll be waking up. I gotta get outta here. Gotta get some new clothes, fast, too. Time to move.

  He walks through the pine trees and heads for the center of the dome, towards the central pool. He walks along the pool's edge until he sees a line of shops ahead on the dome's outer wall. He scans the signs of the shops until he sees the one he needs. Men's clothes. Just ahead.

  Men's Shop. Perfect. Now, I've gotta kind of casually walk out of the trees and into the open, covered in shit. Hum Dee dump Dee dum...

  He ducks out of the wooded section and heads for the Men's store. There are a few people around, but most don't notice him or try not to notice him.

  I haven't been here long enough for anyone to know me yet, thank God. Most of these people seem pretty calm, too... I wonder if the job is done? Should be by now. Should be mass pandemonium, people running crazy... well, maybe not, but some kind of reaction, anyway. Maybe they're just keeping it quiet for now.

  BC makes it into the men's clothing store without incident.

  The sales assistant eyes him warily as he walks in. He's young, impeccably dressed. He arches an eyebrow as he tries to look down his nose at BC. His nose wrinkles as he begins to smell him.

  "Can I help you?" His voice virtually drips with disdain.

  "I need a new suit. I'd like to have these clothes I'm wearing incinerated in your recycler, too."

  "Our fitter is down, should be back up later on. Why don't you come back later?"

  I don't have time for this...

  "I thought you asked if you could help me?"

  "Well, I..."

  "...Didn't really mean it. I see. Tell you what, you help me out with something off the rack, burn these clothes, and I won't lose my temper. How about it?"

  The sales guy tries to say something but just stammers. BC continues.

  "You don't want me to lose my temper here, do you? Not dressed like this. What if I lose it and run all over the store, rubbing myself all over these nice clean pretty suits of yours?"

  "Uh, look, sir, uh, wah..."

  BC stares him down, then tries to reassure him somewhat.

  "Look, I'm gonna pay for everything, so just sit back, I'll find what I need, you take care of my old stuff, and I'll be gone. And then you can forget all about me..."

  ...And you'd better. I'd hate to have to come back and tie you off as a loose end. Or maybe I wouldn't hate it so much, little prick... Just doing the Lord's work... You'd rather not find out...

  This is already taking way too long, and I'm losing patience fast.

  The sales assistant weasels out of the confrontation, "You just go ahead. I'll help with those clothes of yours when you're done." He wrinkles his nose again at BC and his soiled suit.

  BC finds a dark suit. Not black, but close enough for off the rack. He pays for the suit with an OPO secured credit card, untraceable. He changes in the store after cleaning himself up in the store's refresher. The sales assistant incinerates the remnants of his sewer crawl in the store's molecular recycler and doesn't speak to BC again.

  Fine by me. See ya.

  BC walks out of the store a new man.

  Much better! Mmmm, clean clothes... Just wish I could do some mind trick and make that little prick forget I was ever in there.

  Not the right clothes, though. This suit won't pass. I still gotta get into dress blacks.

  And get back to the auditorium.

  He heads for the center of the dome, crossing over one of the walkways t
o get to the dome's other side. He steps nonchalantly out of the Main Dome, but then gingerly runs down the corridor towards the Vatican's Lunar Holdings, still favoring his left ankle.

  Slight modification of plans...

  He gets to his room. As the door closes behind him, he kicks off his shoes and rips off the new suit. The tie almost chokes him as he pulls it over his head.

  He grabs a suit off his rack, the traditional black, an identical suit to the one he wore earlier. He pulls on the pants, the shirt, fixes the collar... he looks at the clock. Time is ticking away, and he's way off plan.

  Time pressure. Got to get back to the reception hall. Gotta cover tracks, too.

  BC dumps suit he just bought through the waste panel in his room and incinerates his brand new clothes.

  Some tracks covered.... As long as that sales guy forgets. Figures I'd find one of the few places on Reagan Station with a human attendant. Too bad I couldn't have killed him right off. Would've look suspicious. His lucky day.

  BC runs back down the corridor, still limping a little. He saunters briskly out of the Vatican holdings, through the Main Dome again, then up a level to the reception hall, whose doors are blocked by Lunar Security Cops. A crowd is forming outside the hall.

  Good signs. It must have worked.

  He makes his way to the front of the crowd. A guard blocks his way when he tries to walk past and into the hall.

  "I'm sorry, Father, I can't let you in there."

  "What?" BC plays dumb.

  "Nobody's allowed to enter or leave the reception hall for right now."

  "Oh, but I'm supposed to be in there. I just left to go to the bathroom."

  The guard thinks for a second. "I still can't let you in there, even back in there. Orders."

  "Why not? I'm with The Cardinal. He may need me."

  The guard thinks again. Hard.

  Straining with the effort. C'mon, buddy.

  "C'mon, Buddy. You help a priest, you go to heaven..."

  "Aw, Father, I'm Jewish. I'm not sure we even have the same heaven."

  "Same God, same heaven... Jesus was Jewish! You still get credit."

  The guard laughs, "Hold on a sec, Father." He opens the doors to the hall and ducks half inside. BC can hear him talking to someone. The guard leans back through the door and looks at BC.

  "Okay, Father, you're in, but you might not wanna be."

  "What?"

  "Go ahead in. You'll see."

  BC walks through the doors into some of the chaos he's been expecting. People running around. Other people, important-looking people, milling about. Med techs all over the stage. The Cardinal is being escorted back down from the dais.

  BC makes his way through the crowd, to The Cardinal. The Cardinal looks up as BC approaches.

  "Well, Father Campion, you picked a fine time to heed nature's call. Just as the Governor began her speech, she collapsed. She passed away on the spot, poor thing. I offered last rites but her husband seemed almost offended. Said they weren't Catholic, ‘not even new catholic with a small "c"'. He was distraught, of course.

  "You should have been here. They're younger, he might have responded better to you."

  "Of course, sir. My apologies."

  Mission complete.

  Chapter Four