Vatican Ambassador (11 page)

Gotta try to relax. Look like a good host of this informal formality of a gathering. No
cocktails present out of religious concerns. I could use a drink myself!

Never mind. Just nod, be gracious... Funny, I never used to attend one of these things unless I was
killing someone. Now it's killing me! Well, not literally...

Everyone's a little stiff, over formal. Well, except for Hardwick and McEntyre... strange they'd get
along. Wonder if there's anything to that.

Gotta suspect everyone, dontcha BC? You bet your ass. Everyone here looks suspicious.
Suspicious of each other, and suspicious in their own right.

BC enjoys a chuckle under his breath.

Maybe it will get easier when the actual talks start tomorrow. Right. Somehow, I don't think
so. At least I won't have to be there the whole time. That's why entourages and delegations were
invented! The leaders paint policy with a wide brush. Then the career boys from the diplomatic
corps step in and work through the fine filigree of the knotty details.
We get to step back in at the end, make final adjustments, say yea or nay and sign the papers with
a flourish!

I've organized the whole shebang, and gotten the agendas approved by all parties involved. I'll
facilitate the process over the next three days, best I can, try to shepherd them along to an
agreement, and try to keep the church truly neutral as we go along. There’s not much else for me
to do.

Except to try to find Nita Bendix, if she's really here. In all my spare time. Right. Oh, God...
Cardinal Hardwick is waving at BC, trying to get his attention, apparently to call him over to speak with him and McEntyre.

No thanks...

Luckily, BC is saved by the approach of the head of the UIN delegation.

"Father Campion?"

"Hello, Sir. Yes, I'm Father Campion, how can I help you?"

"Mohammed Ibn Al Sere
,
Father, the ranking UIN Representative," he says as an introduction. "I am glad to meet the madman who thinks he can forge a peace!"

Woah...

"Nice to meet you, too," BC says warily.

"Do you know, Father Campion, I am still not sure why I am here?" Al Sere challenges BC.

"I hope you're here because you're as tired as we are of people dying. We have a new Pope, a new head of the New catholic Church. He’s declared the NcC neutral and he wants peace. Maybe the time has come when we can finally end the killing?" BC answers.

"Peace? How can there be peace when we cannot go home?" Al Sere asks.

"We understand that. That's why Pope Linus has pledged to try and find a way to..." Al Sere interrupts him. "You would have us only
visit
places that rightfully
belong
to us! This is but a frustrating tease! Of little value, save to provoke our further anguish as a homeless people!
And how many places are left? How can there be peace when Mecca lies destroyed, when Jerusalem lies destroyed? If you have a vision for peace, you best present it quickly, for I have little patience for consorting with the enemy!"

BC waits, to be sure the man is finished ranting. When it's clear he is, BC raises his eyebrows in an, "all done?" non-verbal, question. Al Sere nods.

"I see. Well, Mohammed Ibn Al Sere. Sir. I, uh, don't have a plan. No plan at all. You see, sir, I have a question, instead."

"A question?"

"A question. I think that's better, a better place to start. Than with a plan."

"And what is your question?" Al Sere challenges him.

"What does the UIN really need to have to be at peace? What do you think you absolutely need to have? What places, planets, platforms, territories...? What security? What assurances? What does the UIN need to feel safe, and at peace?"

Al Sere is silent. He stares past BC as he seems to consider the question. BC gives him time. After about a minute, Al Sere responds.

"Good questions. You're right; questions are a good place to start. Better than plans. After fighting for so long, I'm no longer sure we know what we need, even when we think we know what we want.”

He falls back into silence for a moment. “We want Mecca back. We want the Dome of the Rock restored."

"What do you want,” BC asks him, “that is actually attainable?"

"That
is
the harder question," Al Sere admits.

"If you think you need to have that which cannot
be
, if all you want is the unattainable, the undeliverable, then all you really want is war."

"Are you trying to provoke me?" Al Sere says with some bluster.

"No. Please, hear me out," BC says, hoping to calm his guest.

"I just heard you say that all I want is war."

"I asked you what you needed to make you satisfied, to end the war, and you spoke of things that are gone, things that cannot be. What do you desire, what does the UIN need, that CAN be?"

"I don't know... we want to come back home, at the very least. We want to visit our holy sites that are still there… But why should I be telling one such as
you
this?" Al Sere's mood darkens. He leans in close to accuse BC in a harsh whisper, "You ask these deep questions, but how true are they? How real are you, Father? Wasn’t it not long ago that you killed many for the cause? So it's been reported. You are a soldier, not a priest. The tiger does not change its stripes." He leans back and glares at BC.

Wham! The guy knows how to lay it on thick, doesn't he? And what was he eating on that
flight, pepperoni? I didn't think they could...

"I have always tried to serve my faith as best I could,” BC says. “Don't you do the same?"

"I find it distasteful to have to speak with one of those responsible for killing my people and chasing us from our homes. I am trying the best I can,” Al Sere cautions BC. “I will stay, and see what happens, but my hopes are not high. My expectations are extremely low. The Ayatollah Salid, May he please Allah, does not see peace coming out of this conference, only death. But we are here,” Al Sere says. “We will talk again later, when I can stand it again." Al Sere turns and storms away, followed by his entourage. BC stands in stunned silence.

Well... That went well. Maybe I did blow my cover last year. Maybe the UIN does know all
about my previous "activities." Or maybe they just suspect it. Maybe Mohammed Ibn Al Sere is
here to finally "out" me, expose me for the fraud I am! The last agent of the OPO laid out bare
for all to see. What a lovely picture that is!

That would just end my life as I know it, end my career, end this conference, end any hope of
peace. Hey, that would be great; I'd be responsible for bringing total war back down on all our
heads once again!

BC shakes his head. He tries to concentrate on nodding and greeting and mingling with the arriving delegations.

I can't believe all that still hangs over my head. But if they've got any proof, why haven't they
exposed me already?

I hate to think Pope Peter was right after all. Maybe THAT'S why Nita Bendix is here!
Shit!

And shit again, look who it is...

"Hello Father Campion," Richard Wentworth says, extending his hand. BC takes it and shakes it. "Mr. Wentworth. Trust your trip was smooth?"

"That's Representative Wentworth, please, Campion."

"And the Reverend Ambassador Campion, then, if you would, sir. Please."

"Ah, yes. ‘Acting' ambassador, though, still, if I'm not mistaken... correct?"

"Ah yes, for a little while longer, now that you mention it. Thank you."

"That Mr. Al Sere you were speaking with earlier seems quite charming, doesn't he? Lovely man, glad they sent him. At least it shows they're serious," Wentworth says with pure sarcasm.

"And how serious are you, 'Representative' Wentworth?"

"Excuse me?"

"How serious is the UTZ? Do you really want peace?"

"Funny question, coming from you," Wentworth cracks.

"Is it?" BC asks. He leaves the question hanging, and walks away from Wentworth.
Never did have any illusions that this was going to be easy. Does anyone really want peace? I
mean, really? Gotta wonder.

BC leaves the reception behind, lets himself wander through the tunnels of Lunar Prime as his thoughts wander. He strolls down long corridors not really noticing much of his surroundings as he loses himself in his contemplation of the day and the conference.

Ultimately, I can't
make
them want peace. No one trusts anyone else. Why should we? Why should
any of us? Every side has shown itself capable of terrible things when pressed, when "justified".
Hmmm. It's quieter than usual around this section of old Lunar Prime. The moon can be a
serene place, sometimes. Hope some of that sense of calm filters through into our discussions over
the next couple days. Wonder where everyone is? Probably distracted by the conference...

"Hey! Campion!"

BC's reverie is broken by the shout from Bruno, one of Wentworth's goons who have just appeared in BC's path.

Oh no... Not this shit again!

"Mr. Wentworth would like to see you."

"Great,” BC says to the big guy. “Now what? Time for the next the part? Where you club me over the head and drag me off, right?" BC spits back at him.

The big man looks around. There's no one nearby.

The hunter surveys his surroundings before settling in to strike...
Bruno shrugs.

"Nope,” the thug tells BC. “Mr. Wentworth says it’s to be at your convenience... this time. Give him a call tonight,” Bruno says.

"Or else?" BC prods.

"Or else… I don't know. You're rude?” Bruno nearly makes a joke. “Just call Wentworth. Um, please."

"Please. Wow, the magic word! Now, I'll call him. Because you said 'please.' I'm impressed, Bruno, I think we're taking this relationship to a whole new level!"

Bruno shrugs, turns, and walks away. BC is left standing alone. He can't help but shake his head. He starts walking again.

I wonder if the reception is still going on? Hope it wasn't rude of me to wander off like that. It
kinda seemed over... If I screwed up it's because I'm new at this stuff. My excuse. But then, I don't
want to give either side any excuse they can use to drop out of this peace process.
Damn it. It seems hopeless. Still, I’ve got to try to pull it off to protect my status under the 'new
regime'. Seems foolish to think we WILL find any common ground.

Where the fuck am I?

BC's aimless wandering has brought him into an area he doesn't recognize. He looks around, tries to get his bearings.

Let's see... gotta focus, get out of my head and back into reality here. Hmmm, maintenance
corridor by the look of it... there, that's a sign I recognize. The governor's office. Must be just off
the main corridor. That way, I'll betcha.

BC walks around a corner, up ahead to a larger, slightly more populated corridor. He's near the back of the Lunar Prime Governor's Office suite.

Well, there should be a public com nearby, might as well call Wentworth, get it over with.
Wow, look at that. Always takes my breath away.

BC stares out the corridor window at Earthrise, half a blue-green, brown and cloudy blue marble.
Nice. But I can’t start staring out the window like Edwards. Jeesh, I haven’t heard from
him
in a
while. I wonder how he’s doing? Probably down there right now.

Huh.

Well, on to the other crap.

Best call Wentworth… Where's a com unit when you need one? There it is! Wonder how this'll turn
out?

BC makes the call. Wentworth's face appears on the screen. He smiles.

"Father Campion. How good of you to call. And so soon! I appreciate your swiftness. It shows you take this as seriously as I do."

"Thank you. And you're welcome. Now… Why? Why have me call you? I just saw you. I haven’t been
avoiding
you, this time." BC stares at Wentworth on the screen. Wentworth stares back. Wentworth finally breaks the brief, uneasy silence.

"We need to talk. Not like this," he says, nodding toward the screen. "In private."

"We do? As your host, I hope you're not unsatisfied with your accommodations. Do you need something? A toothbrush, maybe? Depilatory cream?"

"Don't play front desk stupid with me, Campion. The stakes are too high for you to be so, er,
witty
. Just come visit my quarters as soon as you can. We need to talk."

"Sounds absolutely cozy."

BC isn't biting.

Not this easily. Sure, just wander in to my den, said the spider to the fly...

"With the conference just getting underway," BC protests, "I've got a lot to do. Responsibilities and all."

"With it being so late in the day on our first day, I can't see how there can be any official activity planned today,” Wentworth says, pressing his point. “There's certainly nothing on my schedule. Is there something I should know about? Something you're not telling me about, Campion? Campion, are you there?" BC is distracted. Out of the corner of his eye he sees her again.

God damn it! That
is
her! It’s gotta be!

"I've got to go now, Wentworth, I'll stop by later, bye," BC says in one breath. He severs the connection, and runs after a woman who's got to be...

Nita Bendix!

It
is
her! Goddammit… Coming right out of the governor's offices, too! Right out of
McEntyre's suite! How blatant is that?!

Where’d she go? She was heading away from me, off toward the main dome.
BC heads for the dome as fast as he can. She’s nowhere in sight. BC bursts into the atrium and almost bumps into a member of the UIN delegation enjoying some sightseeing under the dome. It is night in the main dome, but folks seem to have become nocturnal. There’s a crowd milling about, many looking upwards. People have turned out under the dome to see the stars during the dim “night” of Lunar Prime. A crowd of hundreds wanders about under the main dome, looking up. BC surveys the people in front of him.