by Mike Luoma
"You're always so kind, Richard. Please see that Father Campion is returned safely to the Moon. Without another bump on the head. If at all possible. Thank you, Father Campion. You are of more importance to us than Richard lets on. You are... useful, at any rate. For now."
"Great. So, how do we get in touch? How would you like me to report to you?" BC asks.
"Contact us through Wentworth. Let him know we need to talk, and he'll arrange a meeting, or whatever is appropriate." Folsom turns to Wentworth, "Won't you, Richard?" Wentworth nods to Folsom, "Absolutely." He turns to BC, “I’ll have Bruno see to it on your way out. We'll give you one of our secure com units, for emergency use only."
"Thanks," BC says, trying not to let his sarcasm slip through. "So," BC looks around, "I can go?"
"You can go," Folsom says.
"Bruno!" Wentworth bellows, aided by the amplification. Bruno appears. "Please escort Father Campion back to the ship, and then back to his place on the moon. We want to be sure he makes the trip safe and sound... don't let a hair on his head get mussed," Wentworth says, with sarcasm of his own. BC gets up, surveys his surroundings a final time, then turns and walks away from the table full of the most powerful people in the world.
In the universe… maybe. At least in OUR universe they are. But I think I did okay, held my own… at least I survived...
BC and Bruno make their way back through the station corridors to Wentworth’s waiting ship. looks around as Bruno guides him.
Don’t see any other people, really… Where would Fiza be? Can I get free of my buddy Bruno here long enough to look around?
“Is there a place I can go to the bathroom?” BC asks the goon.
“You can go back on the ship. We’re almost there,” Bruno grunts.
Maybe I could make a break for it.
“Hey!” Bruno grunts at BC. “Slow down!”
Somehow, that doesn’t seem like a viable alternative…
BC walks on next to Wentworth’s thug.
Not this time, then. But now that I know you’re alive, Fiza… I’ll what? Rescue you? Come back for you next time?
Bruno sticks by BC’s side all the way to the airlock. He shuts the airlock door behind BC as he boards the ship to leave Wentworth Station.
Next time, then…
Chapter Six
The trip back to the Moon takes just under eight hours. Relatively fast. BC nods off in his stateroom during the trip, coming to as Wentworth’s ship clunks into its berth at the port at Lunar Prime. Eight hours, again… Isn’t that just like the UTZ Council? Keeping the fastest ships for themselves!
BC disembarks through Wentworth’s private bay and makes his way through the Lunar Prime spaceport. He finds a porter unit to take his luggage back to the Vatican Mission. As he passes queued up outgoing passengers at one of the public carriers counters, he spots Marc Edwards in line. BC walks over to say hello.
"Marc! How are you? What are you doing here? Where are you off to?" BC asks as he shakes his hand. Edwards laughs, "Too many questions at once, BC! I'm going away for a while. I don't have that many responsibilities right now, so I'm gonna go visit some family back on Earth, take a break. Maybe do the tourist thing and see a few sights. A vacation! Imagine that!
“How are you doin'?"
"Don't ask." BC sighs, changes the subject, "You know, Marc, I'm still stunned people voted that terrorist into office over you."
"I don't know, BC. Is it really that surprising? They never really voted me in in the first place, did they?”
Edwards sighs. “They got me by default when Meredith died. Now, they’ve got Daniel. Guess they like the McEntyres," Edwards says, defeat resounding in his voice.
Damn, the guy doesn't deserve this...
Edwards perks up, "Hey, I saw you came in on that UTZ Yacht! Wentworth's ship! Traveling with some pretty fancy company, aren't you?"
Pretty slimy company, actually…
"Not really. He wanted to meet with someone connected with the Vatican. I guess these days, I'm the most accessible. I'm convenient, acting ambassador and all. But I couldn't tell him anything he didn't already know."
Edwards’ turn at the counter comes. He steps up and orders, "One to New York. Thank you."
"That's Liner 95. It's leaving soon. You only have two minutes!" the woman behind the counter tells Edwards. "Gate Seven, Mr. Edwards. You'll have to hurry!" She clears his bags through and pushes the ticket into his hand.
Edwards looks at BC, goes to shake his hand, but then decides to give him a hug. They pat each other on the back.
"Thanks, BC. Ya’ know, for stickin’ by me and all,” Edwards says, stepping back. He shakes his head.
“Man, I appreciate everything you did, your advice… Thank you, BC.” Edwards smiles a half-hearted smile.
He lifts his carry-on bag. “Hey, I gotta run!" He turns and runs for Gate Seven. "I'll see you sometime!" he shouts at BC over his shoulder.
BC picks up something in his tone. "How long are you gone for?" BC shouts back.
"I don't know. A while. I'll be in touch. I gotta go!" he yells as he runs.
"Have a good time," BC says knowing there's no way Edwards can still hear him. But somehow he does, and turns to wave. Then Edwards disappears into the crowd heading for the departure gates. BC turns and heads for the Vatican Mission.
I hate to see that guy go. He was one of the good ones. Maybe it's because he didn't get elected into office. Somehow that let him do a better job. Plus he was a real friend… I don't have many true friends.
Speaking of friends… I've got to find M'Bekke. And then find something to give the UTZ to string them along.
Purposes and missions, I like it!
It's good to have goals to accomplish!
BC enters the main dome and takes in the surroundings. The bareness is harsh: the old trees gone forever, the old growth dead and removed. But there are new plantings around the central pool and on the bridges. The new dome itself is actually clearer than the original, yet made of stronger material. The crowd isn’t quite as ‘bustling’ as it used to be… still not as many people here. Still, they are here, still running on errands, hustling to work or whatever. Each person a planet, spinning in its own orbit, shuffling off to jobs, other pressing destinations… Some with their heads a swivel... Gotta be tourists… Wandering aimlessly… ducking into stores around the perimeter wall. And then there are some people you'd rather not see at all. McEntyre! And he’s looking this way. He’s coming this way! Aw, hell.
Daniel McEntyre walks over to BC .
"Campion," McEntyre says smugly.
"Governor McEntyre," BC answers, with a nod.
The two stand face to face. They look each other in the eye.
What does he want? A stare down?
A minute passes.
A minute is a very long time...
McEntyre finally breaks the silence.
"You keep some powerful company, Campion."
"Me?" BC feigns innocence.
"It was hard to miss the ship you just came in on,” McEntyre says, with a touch of sarcasm. “You take a short vacation after the signing ceremony? Almost looks like you’re violating the Declaration before the ink is even dry! Are you working directly for the UTZ now that your old masters are gone?" What, is he trying to provoke me? Am I that stupid? I might be. But there's too much at stake...
"If I had any idea what you were talking about, I have the feeling it would make me angry. Are you trying to make me angry? Why should the Governor of Lunar Prime, the vast Moon colony, lovely Luna, waste time trying to make the Vatican Ambassador angry? Doesn’t that violate your Declaration?” BC
challenges him in an even, measured tone of voice.
"Play dumb. Fine. Have it your way,” McEntyre says with a shake of his head and a sneer. Fire flashes in his eyes. “You don't fool me, Campion. I see right through you! You had Edwards wrapped around your little finger, but I know who you really are!" He lowers his voice, "Mu
rderer!" I just want to hit him. What can I say? I so just want to haul off and let him have it! But I can't hit him now, he's the fucking governor! They could, and probably would, arrest me on the spot. He would love that, love to have a reason to put me away, or, better yet, exile me from Lunar Prime. My hitting him is exactly what he wants.
"You through?" BC asks.
"Through?" McEntyre asks rhetorically. "I'm just getting started, Campion! Things are different, now!
You'd better watch yourself!" McEntyre says with a wag of his finger. I’d like to snap that finger right off…
"Right," BC says dismissively. "Excuse me."
BC steps to the side, and walks on past McEntyre.
He hears McEntyre yell at his back.
"Watch yourself, Campion! You better watch yourself!"
Watch my ass, asshole. Eat my dust. Eat shit and... Know what? Maybe the time has come to find a way to eliminate him. Just kill him and do the world a favor. Pro bono. No charge for this one, folks, it's free...
Maybe there’s a way to really take him down... He has a checkered past. There’s gotta be something to humiliate him with... that little Asian girl he fooled around with and beat up…
Edwards didn’t want to go negative during the election, but the election’s over… and he’s off to New York, anyway, so why not? It’d be better to render McEntyre ineffective and powerless than kill him outright.
BC keeps walking, thinking, plotting to himself as he leaves McEntyre behind. When he reaches the Vatican Mission he locks down the whole facility, setting the mission to self-contained mode. I've had enough of people fucking with me in the last twenty-four hours, thank you very much. BC takes comfort in the knowledge that thanks to his rebuild the Vatican Mission can survive locked down and self-sustained for over three months.
If McEntyre wants me, let him try to come get me... let him try! We’ll have a siege! We won’t go down easy. Besides, with the war on hold, what kind of backing will he get?
BC makes his way into his personal rooms and plops down in his chair soon as he gets inside. He rubs his temples. He rubs his eyes with the balls of his hands.
One of his headaches threatens to come on, surging up behind his eyes like a freight train rushing in. Oh man, this sucks! Pressure behind the eyes. It almost has a sound, a high pitched whine, annoying; not a sound my ears are hearing! It's sound in my head! ‘Least I’m tired enough to try to sleep it away…
BEEP BEEP BEEP BEEP BEEP...
"Off!" BC shouts.
The alarm shuts off. BC stirs in the chair.
"What the..."
The clock says he's been passed out for almost ten hours.
Must have fallen asleep in the damn chair! Doesn’t even feel like I slept. But my headache is gone! My neck hurts, though, ow...
BEEP BEEP BEEP
"Off!"
That's not the alarm, that’s the com unit...
"What is it?" BC shouts.
"Father Campion?" Lisa his secretary is on the com.
"Yes, Lisa?" BC asks in a more normal tone of voice.
"Father, we're locked out! You locked us out after you got back last night!" His secretary scolds him over the com unit.
"Yes, I secured the Vatican Mission before retiring last night,” BC admits. “I’m sorry. I didn't realize you weren't at home, Lisa..." BC says with a hint of suggestiveness.
"Father BC! I was visiting some friends!" She gasps over the com.
"I see," he says with broad humor as he works the security controls. "There, your ID should get you in, now," he tells her.
She sounds indignant, but gracious. "Thank you, Father."
The com goes off and BC gets up. He stretches to work out the kinks from a night spent sleeping sitting in the chair.
This... ouch, damn, stiff neck. Everything is stiff. I can't believe I could sleep so long in that position.
He freshens up until the com beeps again.
Lisa, again…
"Yes, Lisa?"
"Father, some of the parishioners want to know if you'll be saying a Mass today." What is it, Holy Wednesday? I must be spoiling these people…
"What time is it now?"
"10:30."
"Fine, let them know I'll say mass an hour from now, at 11:30."
"Good, I’m sure they’ll be pleased. Mr. Fitzgerald has been leading daily prayer meetings, but some people would really like a daily mass.”
Some people meaning you and your friends, I know, Lisa, I know…
"Yes, Lisa, I know, but I’m away a lot on Church business, so sometimes..." BC trails off.
"Right,” Lisa says. “Speaking of church business, I have a communiqué tagged for you from his Holiness, The Pope. It arrived earlier today. You know, if I hadn't been locked out, I'd have been able to tell you about it sooner,” she admonishes him.
Wow! Finally, a word from below! I've waited this long...
"I'll wait until after Mass to deal with that, Lisa."
"Yes, Father." The com unit silences.
BC finishes getting dressed and heads for the chapel to get ready for Mass. I don't know how much longer I can keep on doing this. Mass was kinda fun when I first said it, but now... I don't know... the novelty's worn off. I certainly ain’t going to do it every fucking day! Damn. How shallow is that?
Jim Fitzgerald is already in the sacristy when BC arrives. He's a young lay minister, gives out communion and reads at Mass. BC had asked Jim to fill in as best he could when BC wasn’t able to be there. Fitzgerald’s dark complexion and jet-black hair don't quite match his Irish surname. He smiles a little when he sees BC.
"Hello, Father BC. We've missed you," he says. He comes over and shakes BC's hand.
"Thank you, Jim," BC replies, "I was away on Church Business, as usual. You know how it is. Did you hold those prayer meetings we talked about, while I was away?"
"Well, sure, we did, but they're not Mass, you know? I'm glad… everybody'll be glad you're back here for a Mass. That's all," he says.
"Why don't you become a priest, Jim?" BC challenges him, "Have you thought ever about it?" Jim looks down at his feet as he answers.
"All the time, Father," he admits. "I just... I mean, I don't..." he stammers. Poor guy sounds embarrassed. Hit a nerve.
"Look," BC begins, trying to ease him out of answering.
"I don't know," Jim cuts him off, "I guess that I just don't think that I'm cut out for it," he finishes.
"Why not? You seem called to it as strongly as I am, maybe more," BC tells the young man. A whole lot more, let's face it.
"Really?" Jim asks, encouraged.
"Really," BC says, reassuring him. "Do you think God would make you hear His call if, like you said, you're not 'cut out for it'?"
The young man shakes his head.
“I don’t know.”
"As long as you do what you do out of love, I'm pretty sure God is behind you one hundred percent," BC says.
Listen to me, trying to be wise...
"I just don't know," Jim says.
"I'm sure your serving Him would do Him honor, Jim," BC tells him. "Why don't you think about it?"
"I will, Father," Jim says.
"If you have any questions, just ask," BC says, magnanimously. Hopefully, now, those questions won't be about me and where I've been. Keep him thinking of something else...
The rest of their preparation for Mass passes in silence, each man lost in his own thoughts. BC stays fairly lost through the entire New Reform Liturgy, right on through mingling with the good folk of his congregation afterwards for small talk and niceties. He does his part; he plays his role, plies his priestly persona to perfection, and then heads for home.
Swan would be proud! Poor Swan. Man, she didn't deserve to die. A bitch, a royal pain in my ass, sure, but not guilty enough of anything to be killed. The Cardinal... okay, maybe. Nah, not even him, not really. Heh. Gallows humor.
BC finds himself chuckling under his breath as he enters his office
suite. His fond thoughts of Swan are quickly swept out of the way, however, when Lisa appears with the Papal communiqué.
"Here it is," she says as she hands it over. "What's so funny?"
"Nothing, really. I was just remembering some old friends," BC tells her.
"Whatever," she says, turns and leaves BC by himself.
He takes the communiqué to his desk.
Sealed. Secure. Only readable in the CCU, by the look of it. Good. Maybe all is not lost. BC secures the room before he turns the CCU on and pops the contents of the cylinder in. It’s a voice only transmission, a voice BC doesn’t recognize.
"Father Campion. You've been doing an excellent job as the Acting Vatican Ambassador to Lunar Prime. Your reports, while not always as timely as we'd like, are, nonetheless, both thorough and informative. Your tireless efforts rebuilding the Vatican Mission on the Moon have not gone unnoticed." Okay. Voice only, huh? Is that the new Pope? His Chief of Staff? Nice to be appreciated...
"We know you must have many questions..."
That's an understatement...
"...Your recent meeting with the Executive Council of the Universal Trade Zone has left us with many questions to ask you, now, as well.
That was fast!
"The OPO still functions, although on a more limited scale, for now. But we are aware of what is going on. We still observe and gather information. You have been providing us with information. You are not alone in this.
"What we do with that information has, however, changed. Your 'other' services have not been required.
“And now, in the last few days, you’ve engaged in some very curious behavior. We are puzzled by your visit to Wentworth Station. We believe it is time to go beyond simple reports.
"We believe it is time for a meeting between you and me, Father. I've arranged for passage for you to Rome next Monday. A ship will be arriving Sunday night with a Father Daycomb on board. He'll sub for you. He’ll say the Mass while you're gone, minister to your people up there. Make sure your congregation makes him feel welcome, eh?
“We'll see you in Rome on Tuesday, then. Pope Linus the Second, out." Well, well, well, what do we have here? That was Him, huh, the actual Pope? Guess I'll find out more next week.
