Vatican Ambassador (2 page)

The old trees used to take the harsh angles off the light and cast shadows, but they’re all gone,
now.

The new growth is just beginning to blossom and thrive. The new saplings don’t yet cast the shadows the old growth once did.

I can’t believe they had the atrium open a month ago. Just a month and a half, that’s it! That’s
how long it took them to rebuild. That’s
determination!

“I can’t believe it’s already March!” Governor Marc Edwards says, pulling up a chair at the table across from BC.

“I didn’t see you come in,” BC says. “March is already half gone. You’ve gotta catch up, Marc!” he says, giving Edwards a hard time.

The governor gives him a humorously cold stare. BC laughs. He raises his empty glass to the governor.

“Good holiday!”

“Thanks. It was one of my aides’ ideas, but it seemed like a good one,” he admits, smiling. He looks tired, but happy.

“I like it. People need something to help them relax. Step back from the work,” BC says, looking around the barroom.

“Yeah. It’s good to have an excuse to take a day off. We
have
got a lot done,” Edwards concedes. He notices BC’s empty pint glass, “You need another one?”

Guess I look parched...

“Sure,” BC agrees.

Edwards gets up and heads for the bar. BC watches people part around the governor, as they realize he’s among them.

People slap him on the back, shake his hand, and clear the way to the bar for him. “I guess rank has its privileges. Remember to vote, huh,” Edwards says to the laughing crowd around him as they move en masse to the bar.

Nice to see smiles on people’s faces. There’s been so much death. Everyone’s been grim, but
determined. To rebuild. To carry on. Not to give up. Try to remember to forgive ourselves for still
being alive when so many we know are dead... Don’t let the enemy win, let’s rebuild again, like a
mantra these last two months. That’s part of why Edwards called for an election… to keep us real
and honest.

The governor returns with two pints.

“Nice to see some smiles on faces for a change, huh, BC?” Edwards asks. He hands BC his glass.

“Certainly is, Marc. Good job putting them there,” BC congratulates him.

“I can’t take all the credit,” Edwards demurs, shaking his head.

“Why not take some!” BC suggests. He raises his glass for a toast. “Cheers! Here’s to rebuilding Lunar Prime!” BC proposes. Edwards raises his pint.

“To rebuilding Lunar Prime,” Edwards agrees.

“Amen!” BC says, and he clinks his glass into Edwards’. They sip from their pints.

“So. You hear anything new?” Edwards asks.

“Nothing,” BC shakes his head. “The OPO may be O-V-E-R.”

“Where does that leave you?”

“I don’t know. Ambassador to Lunar Prime, I guess. I’m here, I’ve got the title. I’ve tried to act like one,” BC tells him.

“Do these new guys… does this ‘Pope Linus’ know you?” Edwards asks him.

“Kinda. I guess so. I mean, they made me ambassador...” BC shrugs.

“Yeah, because you were here,” Edwards says needling him. Then he gets more serious. “And I supported it!” Edwards says with some force.

“And, again, I thank you,” BC says. He takes another sip from his pint of ale. “The last thing they said to me was, ‘Congratulations, you’re the acting ambassador from the Vatican to Lunar Prime. Rebuild the embassy, keep us informed, send back the bodies, thank you ever so much.’ I send in my reports, but I never hear anything back. No new mission, no retaliation, no regrouping, nothing.”

BC shakes his head.

“You’ve done a good job. The Vatican Mission looks good,” Edwards says, trying to encourage BC.

“Thanks. It’s its own little fortress now,” BC laughs.

He changes the subject to what he really wants to talk to Edwards about. “So... how’s your campaign coming?”

“I don’t know. He’s made it close. Polls say he could win,” Edwards says, his eyes casting down, studying the tabletop as if studying poll numbers.

“He’s a nutcase, Marc! And
you’ve
led the reconstruction!” BC says, throwing up his hands. A few heads turn towards their table. BC draws himself in, picks up his pint and takes a sip. Heads turn back away.

BC leans in towards Edwards across the table. He whispers, “I can’t believe anyone is supporting the psycho!”

“He’s built a lot of support with his neutrality campaign,” Edwards says in a low voice.

“Like you’re not fair and neutral,” BC says with a touch of sarcasm. He leans back. Edwards shakes his head.

“I’m not, BC, and you know it. And they know it,” Edwards says, a sweep of his right arm indicating the general populace of Lunar Prime. “I’d like to be neutral. We tried to be but... the UIN attacked us, plain and simple!”

Edwards eyes grow wider, his voice louder, as he relives the attacks in his mind. “I don’t
want
Lunar Prime to be neutral... but for some stupid reason
they
still expect us to be!”

Edwards notices people are leaning in, trying to listen. He calms himself down and takes a sip of his ale. BC is still angry. “I hate the way he’s twisting the truth, making it sound like you caused the UIN to attack Lunar Prime by allying with the UTZ! He’s twisting the whole timetable!” BC insists. “And he’s using me as a symbol of the UTZ’s influence. If not in public, then in private. I’ve heard it back from people I trust,” BC tells Edwards. “I hate to say it, but I’m a liability to you, Marc… at least my friendship and counsel are.”

“I’ve heard all that stuff, too,” Edwards admits. “He never mentions you publicly, but he talks about my

‘UTZ advisors’ in every speech he makes. And we
are
UTZ allies now.”

“Your alliance with the UTZ shouldn’t hurt you,” BC insists again, shaking his head.

“But it does, at least politically,” Edwards says with a frown. “For all intents and purposes, we
are
neutral, even though we’re now allied with the UTZ. The UTZ recognized our neutrality back in January when we signed the Lunar Free Zone Declaration, recognizing the right of the moon to remain neutral as we agreed to work more closely with the UTZ.” Edwards shakes his head. “He’s stirred people up, says the declaration isn’t worth the paper it’s printed on! He’s good with the spin. I’m not.”

Edwards downs the rest of his pint. “Guess I’m thirsty this afternoon. Do you know what he said this morning? He said I’ve made Lunar Prime a ‘Provincial Capitol’ for the UTZ!”

“The only thing you’ve made Lunar Prime is whole again,” BC reassures him. “You’ve rebuilt the place!

They won’t forget that.” BC stops, sips his ale again. “How many days is it until the election?” he asks Edwards, although he already knows the answer.

“Another week. Next Tuesday,” Edwards answers. He tips his pint up and drains his glass.

“Well, then, here’s to good luck,” BC says, raising his glass. Edwards looks at his empty glass.

“Whoops! Guess I need a refill to drink to that! Be right back!” Edwards gets up to go after another beer. BC sips more of his.

These people are insane if they elect Daniel McEntyre governor over Marc Edwards... fucking
ungrateful bastards! How could they work so hard with Marc to rebuild this place, only to turn it
over to that asshole?

“Hey Father, how are ya? Happy Saint Patty’s Day, padre!” A heavy set older man deposits another pint of beer in front of BC.

Damn... who? Stanzione! That’s it...

“Why Mr. Stanzione! Thank you! Happy Saint Patrick’s Day to you, too!” BC greets his beery benefactor.

“How you likin’ the new quarters, Father?” Stanzione asks him.

“Just fine, Mr. Stanzione. Your men do good work!” BC smiles.

“Only the best for you, Father. Glad you’re happy! Nice mass today, too.”

“Thank you, Mr. Stanzione,” BC says.

“Call me Frank, Father,” Stanzione says to BC.

“Then thank you, Frank. And thanks for the beer, too,” BC says, still smiling.

“You’re more than welcome, Father! Governor,” Stanzione says, as Edwards returns to the table.

“Hey Frank!” Edwards greets Stanzione with a handshake, “Happy Saint Patrick’s Day!”

“Happy Saint Patrick’s Day, Governor!” Stanzione says.

“Stanzione!” someone yells. More voices join in, “Hey Stanzione!” calling Stanzione back to the bar.

“Gotta go! Gentlemen,” he says with a small bow. He turns and melts back into the crowd at the bar.

“Good contractor, that Frank Stanzione,” Edwards says. “Does good work with those fakewood interiors.”

“Yeah, he handled our interiors at the embassy... You, uh, changing the subject?” BC prods him.

“Yeah, I’d rather not think about it for now, you know?” Edwards says, rolling his eyes. “If you don’t mind...”

“I understand,” BC tells him, “I don’t mind. Today, we drink!” BC toasts with his new brew. “To a punchy politician and a plastered priest!”

“I resemble that remark... I’ll drink to that!” Edwards tilts back his glass and downs a good gulp. BC

tries to match him, does an adequate job, draining about half of his pint.
Ahhh... cold, though… my teeth hurt!

What’s this?

Somehow, another round has appeared upon their table. Edwards lets out a laugh as he sees the two new pints that have miraculously appeared on the table.

“Leprechauns?” Edwards asks, and giggles.

Edwards? Giggling? He must be getting drunk!

BC fakes an Irish accent, “Sure an’ begorra, it’s the wee folk. We call ‘em that ‘cause they bring us beer, and the beer makes us wee...”

Edwards, laughing, does his own bad Irish accent, “I’ll drink ta that!” and drink they do. Many more pints appear… and disappear. BC and Edwards stay until the bartender tells the crowd they don’t have to go home, but they can’t stay at McGrady’s ‘cause they’re closing. They leave with the rest of the well-oiled crowd, each going off on their own drunken way.

BC only knows he made it back to his quarters because he wakes up there in the morning.
Ouch. Ouch ouch ouch. Hangovers suck... shit... what can I take? At least it’s not as bad as
those other headaches... hangover’s almost nothing compared to those fuckers… ouch ouch okay,
so hangovers suck, too, don’t want you to feel neglected… I’m worrying about neglecting a
headache, I must be hung-over…

BC gets up out of bed. His surroundings are blurry. He’s a little dizzy. The new place does look nice. Stanzione and his crew make fakewood look like real wood. The walls of his stateroom are covered in a nice dark grain, making his stateroom look like a room in a log cabin back on earth.
Ah, the warmth of wood. It’s strange how it looks so organic while it hides our state-of-the-art
defense system. It really is everything I was hoping for when I designed it. Makes me proud, in a
way... I may have been bragging about that at some point last night… wonder if
that
was wise…

Ouch ouch ouch… seems like a fuzzy bad dream… I wonder how many other good Catholics
are hurting this morning after Saint Patrick’s? I bet I’m not the only one... and it’s probably not
just Catholics... I bet everyone who wished they were Irish yesterday wishes today that they were
only dreaming of drinking like Irishmen…

BC finds himself wishing the next week was just a bad dream, wishing he could just wake up and have it all just go away.

Daniel McEntyre is the star of BC’s nightmare. McEntyre’s poll numbers are rising along with the number of veiled attacks by McEntyre on BC’s influence on Edwards.

BC ducks the media, merely answering, “No comment,” when they ask him to answer McEntyre’s allegations. He can pretend McEntyre isn’t talking about him as long as McEntyre doesn’t mention BC

by name.

Two days before the election, McEntyre finally begins attacking BC by name in public. It’s all over the news as BC wakes up.

“We need a governor who isn’t tied to the UTZ!” McEntyre’s face shouts off the screen as BC tries to eat breakfast. McEntyre’s a guest on “Lunar Prime Today”. BC has it on in the background while he’s getting ready to face the day. Suddenly it seems McEntyre’s speaking right to him.

“There are influences on our current Governor. Unhealthy influences, like his advisor Bernard Campion!”

BC drops his spoon into his cereal bowl with an audible plop and jingle. His jaw drops open as McEntyre’s tirade continues.

“This fake isn’t even really a priest!” McEntyre shouts. “He’s an agent for the OPO! That’s the Office of Papal Operations… They’re assassins for the Vatican! They kill people for the NcC and the UTZ!”

McEntyre shakes his fist in the air for emphasis. “He kills people, for Christ’s sake!”

“So, you allege that this ‘Bernard Campion’ isn’t a priest but an agent and that he,” the news anchor pauses to double check, “is somehow manipulating Governor Edwards to get his and this ‘OPO’s, or the UTZ’s, way?”

“I could ‘allege’ a lot more!” McEntyre says, but waves the thought away. “Anyone who knows me knows how I feel about Campion.”

McEntyre looks right into the camera. “I know what you did, Campion! I know you…” McEntyre stops himself. “I know what you did!” he says, as he calms himself down and sits back in his seat. His interviewer comes back on after a brief awkward pause.

“Well. Daniel McEntyre is certainly a passionate man! That’s all the time we have for now, I want to thank our gue…” Click. BC turns off the viewer.

That sonofabitch…

Beep. Beep. Beep. Beep. Beep. BC’s communicator beeps with a waiting message.

“BC here, what’s up…”

“Father Campion, this is ‘Lunar Prime Today’, do you…”

“No comment!” BC cuts the connection.

Beep. Beep. Beep. Beep. Beep. Beep.

“Father Campion, this is ‘News…’”

“No comment!” BC snarls, cutting them off. “Communicator off!” BC commands.

“You have 24 calls queued up and waiting…” the unit informs him.

Great. This is just fucking great. More reason to hate the man! The guy’s giving me a reason
to come out of my semi retirement! Gotta respond somehow… not a deadly response, can’t do
that… yet.