Vatican Ambassador

by Mike Luoma

  “It is not genocide, do you not see?” the eldest of the Eldred insists.

  “Maybe not technically, but really? C’mon…” BC protests.

  “We did not assume command,” the eldest of the Eldred insists. “In the power vacuum left after the destruction of the Ancient Enemy, all the united worlds decided to let us keep the peace. We have never resorted to the methods of the Ancient Enemy. We have never conquered any world. We try to find peaceful ways to end conflicts,” the Eldred says. “There could even be such a way out of this situation.”

  “This what?”

  “This situation.”

  “Oh, you mean the ‘you’re killing us’ situation? That’s great! How progressive of you! A way out?”

  “Yes. We will discuss it further later. Now I believe we should take a break. We have food provided for you in another room.”

  “Thanks,” BC says, “But I’m not that hungry. I’d rather talk about saving my race from your plague,” he tells the alien.

  “I told you, the plague will not kill all of you. Not all at once. It works in, er… stages,” the eldest of the Eldred informs BC. “After we take a break, we will come back and discuss your human religions. There is much we need to know before we contemplate any further corrections.”

  “So what’s the way out?” BC asks, confused.

  “I do not know,” the Eldred says. “I only know that there could be one. That is why we must talk further.”

  The rounded door to the statue room opens behind them. The tall Eldred stands framed in the doorway.

  “Please take Bernard Campion to his food room,” the eldest of the Eldred says to the escort.

  “Come with me,” the tall Eldred says to BC.

  “Go on,” the eldest of the Eldred encourages BC. “We will speak again later.”

  BC follows the tall Eldred to another domed room, with more beef bourguignon awaiting him on the table.

  Is this all I’m going to get, now that they know I like it? I wonder.

  “Thanks,” BC says to the escort. The tall Eldred takes the cue and leaves BC alone to eat and think. So, the koalas think we’re their Ancient Enemy reborn? Great. They feel totally justified in killing us. Oh, excuse me, ‘correcting’ us.

  And a way out? I don’t know. Sounded ominous, not hopeful.

  “Please explain your religion, and we’ll decide whether or not to kill the rest of you…”

  Sorta sounded like that to me.

  And what can I say? “Oh, yeah, we’ve basically used our religions as excuses for killing each other all these years. But don’t kill us!” Not a great argument.

  BC isn’t sure how much time goes by, but the tall Eldred pokes his head into the room shortly after BC finishes eating.

  “If you are ready, the eldest would like to continue your discussion, Bernard Campion.”

  Ready as I’ll ever be.

  BC is returned to the first domed room for his continued discussion with the eldest of the Eldred. He sits down across from the eldest in the chair waiting for him.

  “How was your food?” the eldest of the Eldred asks.

  “Fine,” BC tells him, “Although, I would like something different next time.”

  “Oh,” the Eldred says with a hint of surprise. “We will consult you before providing your next food,” the alien says.

  “Thank you. So, where were we? You want to talk about human religions, and I want to talk about saving my race; which you’ve wanted to kill since discovering my planet,” BC says.

  “ Actually, we discovered your planet long ago,” the Eldred says. “Shortly after the war against the Ancient Enemy. We even wiped out the original race started by the star seeds on your planet. We did not know the seeds still functioned and remained vital, did not know they had started another race.”

  So, did they wipe out the Neanderthals? Gotta wonder.

  “So we really slipped through the cracks, huh?” BC asks.

  “I do not know what you mean,” the Eldred says.

  “It’s an expression,” BC explains, “meaning you, um… lost track of us, I guess.”

  Like the UTZ lost track of the Project…

  “Fine,” the eldest says, “but let us now speak of your religions. As I said, the Ancient Enemy worshipped none but themselves.”

  “Sometimes that happens, even with our religions,” BC says. “Some religious leaders are guilty of self-worship turned inside out, projecting themselves onto some icon or image that lets them focus the adoration.”

  Careful, BC… don’t be so negative! Be honest, but… I don’t want to talk them out of the idea that religion might make us worth saving.

  “Interesting,” the Eldred says. “Yes, we have seen illustrations of this, in some of the cults and cults of personality in which your leaders have engaged. This often creates the more violent expressions of faith among you.

  We do see the hand of your ancestors in this. But other leaders among you have been capable of seeing further, of unselfishness and sacrifice, of reaching beyond the limitations of your race. It may surprise you to know, but you are a representative of this type of leader, Bernard Campion.”

  “Me?” BC protests. “You’ve gotta be kidding!”

  “ If I understand you correctly, I disagree. I am not creating humor,” the eldest of the Eldred says. But I did not mean you , Bernard Campion, but rather the teacher you represent.”

  “Jesus?” BC asks, understanding and feeling a little embarrassed. “I… thought you meant me for a minute, there.”

  “You?” the Eldred asks. “Of course you have the potential to be such a leader yourself, Bernard Campion.”

  BC protests. “Buddha? Ghandi? Martin Luther King? They were men like you describe. Nothing… And I mean NOTHING! like me.”

  “You may protest, but it is your reluctance to lead that makes you a good leader. You are also able to handle great change with grace and dignity. We have been watching, you see?”

  Just how much do they see?

  “How do you watch us? Spies? Stealth technology?” BC asks, risking rudeness. The eldest of the Eldred snorts another high-pitched laugh. “No need!” the alien says. “You are the loudest race in the galaxy! Your communications are unavoidable! The real trick was in sorting it out and understanding it, and then realizing how much was insignificant and could be discarded. We do not need to spy on your race, Bernard Campion. You tell us everything!”

  “So, you must know about Jesus already then,” BC says.

  “We do, but much of what we’ve learned is contradictory. Much of it changes over the years. As the current representative of Jesus, we want you to explain what he really taught.”

  Oh, that’s all!

  “Wow,” BC says, sucking in a breath. “That’s a tall order.”

  “It is not an order,” the alien says, confused. “And what does height have to do with it?”

  “Another expression. Sorry,” BC apologizes.

  “Go on.”

  “For me, it all boils down to ‘God Is Love’. I had a… revelation, I guess you’d call it, kinda confirmed that for me,” BC tells the eldest of the Eldred.

  “ But how do you define this concept ‘love’?” the Eldred asks. “It does no good to say your God is something without defining the term.”

  “Heh,” BC can’t help but laugh, “That’s kept our poets and artists busy for centuries,” BC

  says. “I suppose that’s one of the things we’ve been fighting over, too. What is ‘love’? I guess it’s that feeling of being part of something bigger than yourself, seeing yourself in someone else, realizing we’re all connected…”

  “We believe all beings are interconnected,” the Eldred says. “To hurt another is to damage yourself. I believe the concept would translate as ‘universal oversoul’.”

  “So, wait,” BC says. He’s now the one confused. “I thought you didn’t have religion?”

  “It is not religion,” the Eldred says. “It just
is.”

  Speaking of convenient definitions…

  “Then how can you kill us?” BC asks.

  The eldest of the Eldred sighs. “Your doctors are sometimes forced to amputate a limb to stave off infection. It is not done lightly. It is not done without regret. But it is done, because it has to be done. The correction is like this. It does not change the fact that we still desire this underlying interconnectivity.”

  “Just like the old song, huh,” BC jokes, “All you need is ‘underlying interconnectivity’.”

  “Again, I do not understand,” the Eldred says.

  “I, uh, substituted ‘underlying interconnectivity’ for the word ‘love’ in the lyrics to a human song. I think you’re near to the idea of love,” BC tells the Eldred.

  “The Ancient Enemy did not have this concept, ‘love’, or it would be easier for us to translate and understand,” the eldest of the Eldred tells BC. “The closest term to it they had was ‘bond’, but that implied compulsion, not the voluntary connection you speak of.”

  “Bond?” BC asks.

  “Bond… such as a blood bond, to family and clan, honor bonds to unit and command, world bonds, to homeworld and colony. These were required, expected. They do not sound like ‘love’.”

  “We have ‘bonds’ like those, too. We even talk about bonds of love, so there’s some similarity,”

  BC says.

  “They did not love as you do. Yet you are often as violent as they were!” the Eldred says.

  “But our love is a sign that we’re getting better, isn’t it?” BC suggests, making his case. “Or we were, until you starting killing us. When we’re desperate, it’s harder for us to love.”

  “ Is that so? Interesting. That makes a sort of sense, I see,” the Eldred says. “So. There is a possible way out of this situation.”

  “There is?” BC says, surprised.

  “We can stop the plague, as you call it, from advancing to its next stage. It will switch from one random recessive gene marker to another, stage by stage.”

  “Keeping us in smaller and smaller, more manageable numbers,” BC says. “Look, stop the plague! We’re not out to conquer the universe! Not this time!”

  “Not yet,” the Eldred says, holding up a furry blue hand in caution. “That is why we must set conditions.”

  “Conditions?” BC asks.

  The eldest of the Eldred folds its hands together, steepling them in front of its fuzzy blue chin.

  “Yes, conditions.”

  “Such as?” BC says through clenched teeth.

  Conditions? I’d like to condition his face with my fists! Probably be like punching a pillow!

  “You are a religious leader, and a person of influence on one side of your war. We have contacted Ibn Al-Salid as well. He will be here to speak with us soon, after you’ve returned,” the Eldred says.

  “I told him you existed,” BC says to the Eldred.

  “We know,” the Eldred tells BC. “We were glad to find that you two had communicated. It was a sign that there was a possible way out of this situation.”

  “Which is?”

  “It is simply this: you must reconcile as a race, and end your war. Make peace among your race or the plague continues.”

  “That’s it?” BC asks.

  That seems too easy.

  “That is the beginning,” the eldest of the Eldred says. “You must agree to stay within your solar system, within the orbit of your fifth planet, until such a time as we deem you peaceful enough to join in the universal civilization.”

  “Now wait a sec!”

  “And you must swear loyalty to the Eldred and our peaceful ways, and agree to our stewardship of your race,” the Eldred concludes.

  Woah! Brakes on! Stop right there!

  “ Wait a minute… Are you saying we have to accept you as our rulers?”

  “ No, not exactly,” the Eldred protests. “We ask that you accept us as your stewards, your guides…

  your shepherds, to use your teacher’s example.”

  At least he’s done his homework.

  “We will help you develop your unique aspects, and help suppress those vestiges of the Ancient Enemy that continue to manifest in your race.”

  “I see,” BC says.

  Except that I don’t. Not really.

  “You see?” the Eldred prompts. “What does that mean?”

  “I want an end to our war, too,” BC tells the eldest of the Eldred. And I thought an external alien threat like you guys might help bring us human beings all together, too… but not like this!

  “But I need time to think about your other conditions,” BC tells the Eldred. “I’d like to go back to Earth and think about all this. Tell you what. After you have Al-Salid visit here, he and I will get in touch. We’ll talk about your conditions, and give you our answer together.”

  “That seems reasonable,” the eldest of the Eldred says. “I believe we are through here for now, then?”

  “I guess we are.”

  “You will be taken back to human space, then, leaving tonight. We will have a transport bring you back to The Project asteroid base.”

  The eldest of the Eldred stands up. BC stands as well, and their chairs disappear. The rounded door BC entered through reappears, along with the tall Eldred and the rest of his escort on the other side. The tall Eldred holds BC’s atmosphere suit.

  “I apologize for your inconvenience, but would you please put the atmosphere suit back on?” the eldest of the Eldred asks BC. “As a precaution?”

  “Sure.”

  BC dons the suit but doesn’t bother to seal the helmet.

  No wonder there’s only a slit for the eyes… they don’t want any of the other Eldred to see what’s inside!

  The tall Eldred leads BC back out through the lobby to a waiting transport.

  “This transport will take you to your ship, which will then take you home,” the tall one says.

  “Huh. Okay. Guess I won’t get to say goodbye to my room, then, huh?” BC jokes.

  “Goodbye to your room?” the tall Eldred asks.

  BC sits down in the transport. “Just tell the room it was good for me, too,” BC jokes to the alien. The door closes and the door’s outline disappears.

  I liked that room. But that poor Eldred had no idea what I was talking about!

  BC is whisked away from the big building housing the residence of the eldest of the Eldred, out of the city and across the plain.

  The transport delivers him to the landing area where he arrived, next to a ship very much like the one he had traveled to Eldray on in the first place.

  “Please exit the transport,” BC hears over the helmet’s speakers.

  As he gets out of the transport, a door opens in the side of the ship. An Eldred walks off the ship to greet BC.

  “Bernard Campion?” the Eldred asks.

  Who else are they expecting?

  “That’s me,” BC says.

  “Come aboard the ship and I will show you to your cabin.”

  “Thank you.”

  They are efficient. And punctual. Gotta hand them that.

  The trip back to the asteroids is uneventful. BC is forced to once again kill time in his cabin on the way back.

  I’d love to have that entertainment unit now! Plenty of time to think. Nice, uneventful trip. That’s the watchword of the Eldred: uneventful. Make sure nothing happens! Preserve the status quo! No events!

  Please!

  Can’t wait to see some fellow human beings!

  The Eldred are just different enough to creep me out!

  Anita is there to greet BC when he lands at The Project’s asteroid base almost three days later.

  “You’re alive!” she says brightly when BC leaves the Eldred’s ship.

  “So far, so good,” BC says with a shrug. He puts his suitcase down. Anita gives him a big hug, but then backs away.

  “I’m, uh, I’m glad to see you’re in one piece!” Anita says. “Sorry.�
��

  “Hey, don’t be sorry!” BC says to her. “Why ‘sorry’? I like it that you hugged me!”

  I liked it when you kissed me before, too.

  “I’m sorry because, um, well…” Anita tries to explain. “You’re the Pope!”

  “So,” BC says, “I’m the fucking Pope! So what? I probably shouldn’t be! I’m still me! I’m still BC!

  I’m still the guy that conked you over the head with a hatch cover the first time I met you. You know, the one you were spying on, crawling up out of the sewers of the Moon? The guy you almost killed? Come on!”

  She starts grinning. “I told you, I saved your sorry ass back there!” she insists.

  “Saving my life doesn’t count when you’re the one who my life in jeopardy in the first place!” BC

  counters. “It’s like when someone starts a fire so they can look like a hero putting it out, it’s no good! They arrest people for stuff like that!”

  Anita stops grinning.

  “Fine,” she says coldly.

  She turns and walks away, clearly pissed.

  “Anita!” he calls after her. She ignores him and keeps on walking, leaving BC standing alone next to the Eldred’s ship.

  Smooth! Really smooth, BC.

  Again, aliens I can talk to! Women, not so much.

  Okay, Anita, be that way…

  BC hears a loud humming noise begin behind him.

  The Eldred ship is humming and vibrating.

  BC takes the cue and walks away from the craft as it lifts off. The sleek silver ship, nearly silent, save for the hum, glides up and away, out of the base’s landing bay. Back off to Eldray? Or maybe to pick up Al-Salid? Well, I need to get back to Earth, or at least the Moon. And I don’t feel like asking for Anita’s help right now.

  Like she’d want to give it!

  BC spots a technician nearby.

  “Excuse me,” BC says, getting the tech’s attention.

  “I’m Bernard Campion,” BC starts.

  “I know that,” the tech says, sounding a little insulted.

  Great! Everybody has an attitude today. Give me a fucking break! I’m tired!

  “Get me a transport back to Earth. Please,” BC asks semi-politely.