Vatican Assassin
Page 32
What a stench! Never realized these troop transports smelled so bad! Seems over crowded. 'Course, we're overcrowding ourselves. But at least we're off Fortune Station. Not so fortunate for the cult. I shoulda known Peter wouldn't honor my promises. You know, I swear I saw something about bearing false witness, somewhere...
BC and Drex are crammed in elbow to elbow with about thirty UTZ soldiers in the hold of the UTZ transport ship. They had to find somewhere on the ship to stay for the trip, and this hold seemed as good a place as any. They haven't heard any sounds of battle since leaving Fortune Station.
Guess no one's shooting at us, for now. Be nice if we're heading for the moon. Beggars can't be choosers, though, huh?
Oh man, again?
BC keeps getting pushed into. He holds his ground, but a guy on his right keeps leaning back into him.
I hate this.
The trooper turns around, finally, and BC catches a hot blast of sour whiskey breath. He's got an almost empty bottle in his right hand.
"Hey, sorry, man. Merry Fucking Christmas, huh? Fuckin' Moslems, no respect at all. Oh, wait, you a priest? Oh shit, sorry Father. Didn't mean to swear in front of a priest. My mom would tan my hide if she heard I did that, even at my age!" He laughs himself silly at his own drunken wit.
Christmas? Wow, almost forgot in all the craziness of the last few days. It's actually Christmas already. Jeesh, the Cardinal will be pissed I'm not back there helping him. Hey, I'm trying to get there. I suppose I better answer the drunk with the gun....
"They never forget, do they?" BC says. "They like to remind us by attacking on Christmas. Probably should have seen it coming, huh?"
The guy's a little confused.
"Huh?" he says.
"The Christmas Massacre?" BC prods him.
Drex leans over, "BC don't waste your..."
The drunk gets louder, interrupting.
"Wait, I remember! Like in that movie, right? We starved 'em on Mars, back in the 70's. Then we came in and hit 'em hard, took back our UTZ stations on Mars. A great victory, right?"
"Don't think I saw that one." BC says.
Probably propaganda… Military training film for the UTZ?
"Might have been a victory for the UTZ," BC continues, "but for the Moslems it was the Christmas Massacre. They thought it was their food transports returning after a year of nothing. Anyone who could get a suit on went to see the landing.
"They were surrounding the ships. The UTZ commanders on board those food transports kept their ships closed up until a massive crowd had gathered around them. Then the doors opened. Instead of food, the starving crowds found troops firing at them."
"Yup," the drunken soldier agrees, then makes a gun with his hand, "fsssshhh, fssssh," he slurs the sound of a laser. "Made quick work of 'em. Glorious victory with few casualties."
Pointless to argue with a drunk, especially one with a gun, let's remember. But I gotta say something... damn.
"Not too glorious, mowing down the starving and the weak, women and children some of them, huh?" BC says. "Few casualties on our side. But we killed ten thousand people in a matter of hours. Maybe five thousand in the first few minutes. So they don't forget. S'all I was saying."
The drunk starts to get belligerent, "What the fuck, Father, you on their side? They're the ones shooting at us out there, ‘case you forgot!"
BC has to laugh. "Not at all, calm down, son. I'm just a man of peace, is all."
Trying the paternal touch. Don't think I can sell it, though. Such BS, BC...
"Look, it's not funny," the guy says. Before he can say more an announcement blares out over the room's com.
"Attention. Attention. Bernard Campion to the bridge. Father Bernard Campion, report to the bridge at once," a humorless monotone intones.
BC turns to go.
"Hey, that's you? You special or something?" the guy asks, reaching for BC's departing shoulder. BC turns back and grabs the guy's arm on a pressure point.
The drunk lets go of BC, drops the bottle from his other hand, and falls to one knee.
"Ouch! Shit, man, that hurt. I was just asking? What kind of priest beats you up, anyway?"
Drex pipes in.
"Oh, I went to Jesuit schools. Trust me, I knew quite a few." He pulls BC aside and strategically stands between BC and the drunk getting back on his feet. He speaks low to BC, "What's up?"
"I don't know. But I better go. They know I'm here, obviously."
"Obviously," Drex agrees. "Or they had every captain make the same announcement and now they're waiting to see if and where you show up. It's what I'd do, anyways."
"Good point." BC has to admit.
"I know how they think. I was a UTZ grunt for a bit. Anyways..."
"I'll be back," BC says.
"Okay," Drex shrugs.
Now... where's that confounded bridge?
BC finds the door he came in through and traces his way up towards what he thinks is the front of the ship.
The bridge is near the front, usually, right?
BC spies a door with an armed guard in front of it.
That looks promising. Got to get close enough to read...
"Can I help you?" the guard challenges BC.
"Sure. They just paged me? Bernard Campion? I'm looking for the bridge." He explains.
"You found it, see?" the guard moves aside so BC can read "BRIDGE" on the door in block letters. "So you're Father Bernard Campion?"
"Yes?"
He steps even further aside, nods toward the door. "Go ahead in."
"Thanks." BC looks for but doesn't see door controls. He turns to the guard, nearly bumps into him as the guard leans forward to press on a small, unmarked panel in the wall next to the door.
"Sorry." BC apologizes.
"Not a problem. There you go," the guard says. The door slides open.
BC steps through into a large open room with a low ceiling.
BC can see out into deep space through windows that make up the upper half of the three walls he's facing. The lower halves of all three walls are lined with consoles, manned by bridge personnel. There's a bustle as people get up from their consoles, cross the room and consult with each other.
Compared to the Paladin, this is palatial!
A large, freestanding console dominates the center of the room. Two sections surround a chair in their center. A well-groomed UTZ captain gets up out of the chair and approaches BC.
"Father Bernard Campion?" he asks.
"Yes?"
"Pleased to meet you." He extends his right hand. "I'm Taka Yamano, Commander of Mission Alpha to Fortune Station. Welcome aboard my ship!" Yamano says with a smile.
"I didn't know you'd be aboard, but there was a mad scramble to get off that old heap, eh?"
"Yeah," BC nods. He starts, "I mean, I hope that's okay?"
"Not a problem," he says. "I was briefed on all aspects of Fortune Station before we came out here. Guess you did the initial legwork for us, eh?"
"You could say that."
And, you did. Not quite how I would have put it...
"Good work! They never expected us! And with their old leader dead, and you as their absentee leader... that was a stroke of pure genius, by the way, Father. Well, we just came in, herded them up, sent 'em home and took over. You made it too easy for us! Good work!"
He seems pretty happy about it. I feel like shit. I set the cult up and I didn't even know it. Didn't even think about it. I used to be able to see this kind of thing before it happened. I used to know how devious minds operated. I was one. I AM one, dammit. Just out of practice, maybe.
When BC doesn't answer, Yamano continues.
"I just found out you were on board and I wanted to meet you. We've been recalled to the Moon. Thought you might like to join us on the bridge for the trip."
Guess impressing this guy has its privileges...
"Sure. I was heading to the Moon anyway. Or trying to when the UIN attacked and drove us out here," BC wonders why he's nervous
.
Almost stammering! Get it together…
"I want to go to the Moon," BC tells him, assuredly.
"Oo, I don't know if you really want to go there right now. The attack on us out at Fortune was a side action. The UIN is hitting the Moon and Earth both pretty hard right now, and hitting some orbitals, too. The UTZ is calling back all ships, even those like us engaged in combat already. Not a good sign," Yamano cautions.
"They haven't attacked in a while," BC thinks out loud.
"Yeah. Saving up to buy us all a nice Christmas Present. Merry Fucking Christmas. Oh, sorry, Father."
"Don't be. Merry Fucking Christmas indeed, Captain Yamano," BC agrees.
Chapter Thirty