by PJ McDermott
“The People’s Crusade is correct in what it says. The poorer nations have been at the mercy of the affluent for too long. This—must—stop!”
The pope’s face was flushed, and Rousseau looked at him with concern.
Vincenzo shook a finger for emphasis. “But I say to you. A much greater portion of the blame lies at the door of the extremist leadership of the People’s Crusade. The High Moderator’s doctrine of hate and intolerance will never be a solution for what ails the world. The violence his followers perpetrate in his name will never prevail against the love of our fellow man.” The Pope rose to his full height. He pointed a trembling finger at the cameras.
“I call this man by his proper name. He is the spawn of the devil and evil incarnate. I name him Antichrist, and he must be defeated.”
*
Vincenzo and Rousseau met secretly in a small conference room at the Waldorf hotel. Although the two had agreed on the strategy, they were troubled by the inevitable impact of the pope’s declaration. The newsmen had erupted in a cacophony of shouted question while speaking on their communications devices to their home stations. By now, every human on the planet would know about the pope’s call for a worldwide military offensive to eliminate the Crusade leadership.
In the lead up to the press conference, it had seemed clear to the two men, that to offer the hand of peace to the High Moderator in the face of such violence would be tantamount to surrendering the Church to his control. An appeal to Christians, Jews, and Muslims alike to take up arms against the People’s Crusade was the only alternative. It was up to the governments of the non-Crusade countries to unite and defeat this menace.
“What’s the latest?” asked the pope.
Rousseau stared at him morosely. “Not good. The Canadian government has fallen, which puts the Crusaders on the US’s doorstep. Australia and Mexico are holding out, despite the street riots. The British government is threatening a nuclear strike, if only they knew where the High Moderator was hiding.”
“And the manuscript?”
Copies have been made, authenticated, and sent to the Patriarchs of all Orthodox Churches, the Archbishop of Canterbury and leaders of the other Christian churches. Battista and Talya have been busy cataloging everything that has happened to date. They will accompany the records of the Academy to Sumer in a few days. If the worst happens, at least the colony can continue our work.”
“Have we heard anything from the Turkish authorities?”
“Nothing. We sent the ossuary, the remains of Philip’s family and the container with the manuscript inside via Greece to Istanbul. Once it crossed their borders, we lost track of it.”
The pope voiced his most critical concern. “Will the US act?”
Rousseau shrugged.
AD 2104
“The crowds are too thick. If we don’t get moving, we will miss the flight,” said Battista, grasping the package close to his chest.”
“We’ll never get there at this rate,” agreed Talya. She peered through the vehicle’s window and shivered. The demonstrators were angry, close to losing it. She watched as a gang of youths shattered a shop window. They whooped, ran inside and came back out carrying armloads of electrical appliances. No-one tried to stop them.
“Come, we will have to walk.” Battista touched the control panel to open his door. The pneumatics forced the crowd away from the exit creating a momentary oasis. He helped Talya out, clutching her arm as the crowd bustled them away.
Talya staggered and almost fell, but the old priest held her firmly. He panted from the exertion, and dragged his companion onto the sidewalk, away from the main crush of people. They stood with their backs against a wall for a few minutes and let the mob pass them.
The street looked like a war zone. Many of the windows had been boarded up, but others had been smashed open, and shop mannequins, trampled food, glass and other rubbish decorated the street. The demonstrators receded into the distance, leaving behind looters, and frightened merchants checking their damaged premises.
“Quickly, Talya. The mob appears to be heading towards the spaceport, but if we cut through there, we may yet get ahead of them.” The priest nodded towards a narrow lane on the other side of the road.
They dashed into the alley, going as quickly as the priest’s bulk would allow. Their haste drew a few narrow glances from those they passed, and Tanya began to regret having left the relative safety of the car. “I didn’t realize London had as many crusaders,” she said.
Battista clutched at his chest and gritted his teeth. “This march has been planned for months. Many of these have no doubt come from other crusader strongholds. Talya, wait. I must rest—”
“Father, are you all right?” The priest’s complexion looked sickly, and perspiration beaded on his forehead. Talya glanced quickly around. The alleyway was filling up with people emerging from homes and shops to stare at the damage. Battista staggered to a halt. “Father! Are you okay?” Her heart quickened as the elderly cleric slouched over, his hands on his knees.”
“A moment, Talya. This priest as not as young as he used to be. I just need to catch my breath.”
A few seconds later, he stood up, wiped his face with a handkerchief, and smiled. “This is almost as exciting as the day we entered Josiah’s cave. It will help I think, if you carry the package. I didn’t realize paper could weigh so much.”
Talya took the package from the priest. It weighed little and her eyebrows knitted quizzically.
“Take it, my dear. I fear I may not make it to the ship, and if so then you must ensure its safe arrival on Sumer,” he said.
“Father?”
“Come,” he said. “I have rested enough. Let us resume. We must turn left at the end of the street. The spaceport is less than two kilometers from there.”
They took off, the fat priest’s belly jiggling as he jogged slowly along. Soon he had to rest again.
Talya noticed that more and more of the shops and apartment buildings they passed sported flags and signs in their windows supporting the Crusaders. This is a dangerous area. We are drawing too much attention to ourselves.
One man pointed at them as they passed by, and shouted, “You! I know you. I saw you on holovision.” He gesticulated wildly at those around him. “These are the heretics who stole the ossuary and Philip’s manuscript.”
Others gathered around to listen and began to follow, slowly at first and then faster, yelling at people as they passed. “Stop them! It’s the heretic grave robbers.”
A man tried to grab hold of Talya, but she shrugged him off and pushed him to the ground. “Hurry, Father—you must run faster. They have almost caught us.” Tanya frantically pulled him along by the sleeve of his jacket.
Battista staggered to a halt, breathing heavily. “Tanya, let go. I can run no further, my heart is burning. You must leave me.”
“No, Father, we can both make it. Please—” Tears streamed down her face.
The priest sank to his knees, then slumped onto the road. “Ah, child…I am sorry. Take the manuscript. Deliver it to the representative on Sumer. That is what is important. Go quickly now before it is too late.”
The mob was almost on them.
*
In the end, she almost hadn’t made it. The nervous young soldiers guarding the spaceport were reluctant to let anyone through. Eventually, their lieutenant acceded to Tanya’s pleading, and she was escorted to the terminal housing the space elevator. She wept with relief when she arrived in fixed orbit, and the attendant ushered her through the barriers and into the ship just before the doors were locked.
She strapped herself into her chair, her heart hammering, as the pilot eased the liner away from the dock. When she closed her eyes, she saw his face, bloody, screwed up in agony and fear, but calling out to her, urging her to save the package. She’d wanted to go back, to save him, but there were too many. She loved the priest. He had been a good friend and mentor and had taught her many things, but the package
was more important. More important than him and more important than her.
*
The space liner, King George IV, popped out of light speed and decelerated rapidly to 0.01C. A turquoise and green gem swathed in white bands of cloud filled the view-screens. Talya gasped. She’d never seen anything quite so enchanting.
Sumer was the way Earth should have been—the way it had been, perhaps, thousands of years before. Rolling green hills and deep valleys with bubbling brooks. Some of the foliage might not be what you would expect from a country lane. The most prolific tree in the vicinity of the first encampment had been named Ericius Giganticus - the Giant Porcupine. It grew needle-like leaves twelve inches long and had a tendency to sling them at unsuspecting prey when they came within a hundred yards. Humans recognized the danger after several of the first settlers were found decomposing at the base of the trees, and after that, they gave it a wide berth.
However, other than the trees and a few pack-hunting carnivores, life on Sumer was idyllic. The weather was warm during the day and cool at night, and there was enough rain for the rich soil to produce abundant crops, grains, and fruits for the few thousands of settlers.
In 2104, Sumer had little in common with the home planet. Overpopulation and pollution by industrial greenhouse gasses were far into the future, and religious fervor had not as yet raised its ugly head.
Talya knew more about that than most. Ever since she and Battista had discovered Philip’s bones box five years before, she had become part of Pope Innocent’s retinue. She and Battista had traveled around the Earth, attending media conferences, taking part in TV debates, and giving presentations to civic leaders and clergymen from all denominations.
In the beginning, it had seemed a wonderfully grand quest to her. She was part of the Vatican’s plan to lend credibility to the claim that the manuscript found in the Turkish tomb was the genuine article.
Talya found it exhilarating, an enormous change from her previous existence as an archeology student and sister to five elder brothers. She was introduced to politics on a world scale and thrived on it. Cardinal Rousseau, the pope’s right-hand man, and lead strategist had come to depend on her insight, and when the time to leave Earth had arrived, he had entrusted the care of the package to her and Battista.
She sighed audibly, and the man seated next to her glanced at her before returning to his viewscreen. “It’s a terrible thing, isn’t it? God knows how Sumer will survive without Earth’s help,” he said.
“I beg your pardon.” She dragged her thoughts back to the present and appraised the man. He would be in his mid-forties, she thought, not bad looking. His dark hair was worn long, tied back into a ponytail, and with a silver streak running through it on the side facing her. He was clean-shaven with a strong jawline, and his brows were drawn together in obvious concern.
He nodded, keeping his eyes on the screen. “They’ve done it at last.”
“Who’s done what?” she asked, confused.
“They all have,” he said. “Dropped the bomb, eh? My God, what a mess.”
Talya felt her heart leap and hurriedly switched her personal viewscreen to the news channel. Suddenly all the ship’s screens were showing the same scene. Thick black smoke shrouded the view. She could make out the shadows of people fleeing in all directions. She fiddled with the volume control to no avail. The broadcast was silent. Passengers around her were looking at the screen and each other.
“It’s got to be a hoax,” said one.
“A holo-drama,” said another. Neither spoke convincingly.
Abruptly, a voice came over the intercom. “This is the captain speaking. The pictures you see are a direct feed from CNN. It seems some terrible disaster may have befallen Earth. How bad it is, or how it happened—well I have no information to hand on that. We’ve tried to contact flight control on Earth, but the communications are down. We are unable to contact anyone on Earth. CNN seems to be the only service still broadcasting. We hope to get some sound soon so we can understand what is going on. Sumer has instructed us to proceed into high orbit and maintain our position until further notice.
“This is hard for everyone, but please try to stay calm. We’ll have you on the ground as soon as we get the go-ahead from flight control. In the meantime, those of you with a spiritual inclination would do worse than pray.”
Talya’s eyes remained fixed on the screen, and she mumbled a quick prayer, although she felt it was too late for those on the planet.
*
The spaceport lounge buzzed with disembarking passengers from a dozen liners. It was a shambles, and even though passport control had recalled every officer from leave to handle the crisis, it took Talya four hours to get to the counter.
An officer in a peaked cap accepted her travel documents. “Sorry about the wait, Luv. With what’s been going on down on Earth over the last few weeks, it’s pandemonium here. In the early days, things weren’t so bad. We just let everyone through if they had a valid passport, but we’ve learned our lesson. Too many terrorists got in that way, and we have had orders from above to clamp down. Now, everything has to be triple checked.”
“Terrorists?”
“Yes, that mob calling themselves the Crusaders. Bunch of bleeding loonies, if you ask me. Blew up the water reticulation plant and the town hall. I ask you! I mean - the town hall is only used on ceremonial occasions, so no one was hurt, but we’ve had to increase rationing of our water supply, and that hurts everybody.”
“Why did they do it? I thought Sumer would be the last place to find terrorists.”
“You’re talking in the past, Luv. Used to be the safest place in the galaxy, but now those Crusaders are everywhere.” He marked the virtual entry visa on the computer and disengaged the mind probe. “That’s it. You’re done, Luv. Enjoy your stay in sunny Sumer.” He smiled at her and turned to the next in line.
Talya collected her luggage and made her way through the scanners at customs control without incident.
*
After checking into her hotel, Talya called Rodney Morgan and arranged to meet that afternoon. Morgan was the head of the Vatican campus on Sumer. As well as his academic responsibilities, he was the chief of security and custodian of the Imperium vaults.
He doesn’t look much like a priest, she thought as she entered his office. His face was pockmarked, and he had a stern set to his mouth.
“Ah, Miss Kominichena. I’ve been expecting you,” he said. “His eminence advised you would be arriving soon. I hope the reception at the arrivals hall wasn’t too onerous?” The steel in his eyes belied the pleasant greeting.
“Mr. Morgan? I am very relieved to see you, sir. I have instructions to place an important package in your care.”
“Certainly. I have made arrangements to store the documents in our most secure location. No doubt you will wish to be assured of the arrangements to keep them safe.”
“Cardinal Rousseau impressed on me the necessity of doing so. I hope you don’t mind, but could I see your identification, please?”
He laughed roughly. “Ah, yes. That sounds like John. I would expect nothing less.” He walked to a computer on his desk and turned it to face her. “Eyeball, fingerprint and voice recognition enough, or would you prefer a full body scan?”
She felt the warmth rise up her neck. “I don’t mean to be awkward, but…”
“A full scan, then. John trained you well. We’ll need to go to the communications center for the nearest machine. Come along.” Some of the hardness left his eyes as he smiled. “You can give me all the latest news from Earth as we walk.”
At the center, he insisted Talya undergo the procedure first—to give her confidence in the machine’s veracity, he said.
She swallowed but allowed him to escorted her into a shielded room.
“Designed to prevent any external influences, accidental or malicious,” he said.
He strapped her arms to a chair in the middle of the room, placed a helmet over her s
kull, and left the room.
The sound of the power build up increased in frequency, then whined into silence. Infra-red bands wrapped around her from toe to head, and she began to panic. Had she been duped? She struggled, but could not free herself from the arm straps.
There was a loud click, and Morgan’s voice echoed. “Uh, Tanya, please relax. We just need a few more minutes, and then we’re done.” A robotic arm extended a needle into her arm and extracted a vial of blood for analysis.
Morgan’s voice came over the comms system again, instructing her to read from a screen which provided audio and visual testing.
“Okay. We’re finished. You can come out now.”
She joined him in the observation room.
“Sorry about that. I should have explained the procedure first. I didn’t mean to alarm you.” He pointed to the results on the screen. “Miss Talya Kominichena, female, biological age twenty-seven, pre-cancerous melanoma on the left shoulder but otherwise healthy. Genetic mapping confirms your mainly Turkish origins. Interesting that you have a bit of Celtic in you as well. Visual, oral and prints established by reference to ten Earth databases, including the University of Istanbul and the Turkish police. Oh, and still a virgin.”
Talya blanched. “Is that a joke?”
“Yes.” He laughed. “If I probed deeply enough, the machine could identify every boy you have ever had sex with, but I do not believe that is necessary.” He grinned broadly. “My turn now.”
*
After confirming his identity, Morgan led her into the basement of the building. They passed through four security controlled gates to reach the vaults.
“What would happen if someone were to fail the security check,” asked Talya.
“They would be immobilized with a web of high tensile steel filament and would await collection by our team of skilled interrogators. What happens after that, you don’t want to know. Let’s just say the Porcupine trees around here never seem to be short of food.”
