Vatican Ambassador (46 page)

“So, it’s don’t call us, we’ll call you?” BC cracks.

“Pretty much,” Anita admits.

“Pretty convenient,” BC observes. “And pretty arrogant. They held on to
this
guy, and all the while acted like
we
were the threat. And now it’s
our
problem. I’ve got a problem with that!”

“Well, better that they asked us to solve the problem than they just killed us all,” Anita says.

“I wonder,” BC says. “I’ve been thinking about this, Anita. Maybe they’ve already killed as many of us as they could by the methods they find ‘acceptable’. They’re strange that way, self-limiting, kind of.

“They still killed billions of us! There’s no way I’d be fucking pope if any real Cardinals were left! The old guard is all dead or dying.”

“It is what it is,” Anita says, matter-of-factly. “What do we do next?”

“I’m thinking I get up and get dressed,” BC says. A wild thought occurs to him. “And then I’m going to Mars!”

“Mars?!” Anita says, shocked and surprised.

“Gotta go! Com off!” BC says, shutting her off. He jumps out of bed and gets ready to face the day.
I told Al-Salid we’d discuss all this. Now we have even more to talk about!

“There’s no way in hell you are going to Mars!” Anita says, trying to face down BC. Krish and Dell flank her. The three are shaking their heads.

“You know you’re officially crazy,” Krish tells him.

“I
am
going to Mars. I need to meet with Al-Salid, especially now that he’s met with the Eldred, too. They wanted to talk to him about his religion,” BC says, shaking his head. “Think about it,” he says to the scientists. “For him, all of a sudden these giant, blue, alien koala bears show up and say, ‘come to our planet and tell us about your religion.’ I told him before he left that they’re the ones killing us. I need to know how his meeting with them went, and find out what he told them. I also want to make sure he knows we’re on the same side, now. Maybe we can pull ourselves together after all.”

“Right,” says Krish. “And then? I’m going to walk on water, which I will then turn into wine! How’s that?”

“Krish,” Anita admonishes him. Dell suppresses a smile.

“I’m serious,” BC tells them. “I’m going to Mars. But it needs to be hush-hush! No one can know about this trip, especially the media.

“I don’t want the Eldred to know about it, either,” BC says. “But from what I learned on their homeworld, from what they told me, from the information they had, they seem to have some means of eavesdropping on us. They may find out anyway. This is going to be tricky,” he tells them. “I know that. I can’t sneeze these days without it being on the newscasts. That’s why I need the Project’s help. The Project has the ships that can help me do this.”

“We appreciate your great faith in us,” Dell says. “But you may be asking for the impossible with your demand for secrecy. We were much more adept at secret missions before you lifted our veil of secrecy.”

“Touché,” BC says.

“You’re the
pope
, BC,” Anita says to him slowly and deliberately, as if explaining it to a toddler.

“The
fucking
pope!” Krish pipes up. Anita glares at him.

“What?” Krish asks, defending himself. “I heard
him
say it himself!”

“You’re a CEO, and head of the UTZ council. You’re the most visible man in the human race, and you want to become invisible?” she asks him. “Think about it, BC. It’s insane! What about the UTZ Council?

And what will they say about this back at the Vatican?”

“I’ll let Wentworth know I’m going. He may even be able to help me get in and out undetected, we’ll see. As for the Vatican… they’ll think I’m still out here, at The Project,” BC explains.

“What? You want us to lie to your church? What are we going to say when they ask for you, BC?” she asks him. “They check in all the time. We won’t be able to stall them!”

“You guys are scientists. Wentworth has robot doubles on his station. Can’t you talk to his scientists and make
me
one of those?” BC asks.

“We
could
easily make a simulacrum that looked like you,” Dell tells him. “But we couldn’t program it to answer any real questions without a great deal of time and
your
involvement. The likeness would be the same, but the masquerade would be seen through easily with just some simple questioning.”

“Do it,” BC tells them. “Make it so, get it done, do what you’ve gotta do, whatever. I want one. Even if it won’t fool Rome, if it can walk and wave and smile it can fool the media.”

“So. What about
Rome
, then?” Anita asks him.

“I’ll go back there and tell them myself. I’ll leave today. You get the simu-whatcha together and bring it to me at Vatican City. Then we’ll send Sim-Pope to Lunar Prime while I head out to Mars,” BC says, planning on the spot. “How long?” he asks Dell.

“How long?”

“Until you’ve got a working model of me?”

“Oh.” Dell closes his eyes, thinking. His eyes pop open. “About a week,” he tells him.

“Damn!” BC says. “I want to be on Mars in a day or two.”

“I’ll do what I can to speed up the process. We’ll need you to get scanned for the model as soon as possible,” Dell says.

“Get it done,” he says to Dell. He turns to Anita. “I need a transport back to Vatican City for me and the entourage…” He turns back to Dell. “How long will the scan take?”

“About twenty minutes,” he tells him.

“Great. I need a transport in about an hour, then,” he says to Anita. “And then I’ll need you to help me figure my way from Rome to Mars and back again. The ships, the schedule, you know.”

“Maybe you are crazy,” she tells him.

“Maybe the
fucking
pope is
fucking
nuts!” BC says, flippantly. “I’m going to pack up. Or go tell my

‘people’ to pack up. Where should I meet you, Dell?” He asks.

“At my lab. Do you know how to get there?”

“No,” BC tells him. “Have one of your assistants come get me and lead me there, okay?” Dell nods.

“Let’s get moving!” he says, locking eyes with Anita’s.

Man, if looks could maim!

He leaves her steaming, leaves Krish and Dell exchanging looks of disbelief, and walks off to his apartments to get the ball rolling.

One week later, BC is wondering where his head was at, especially now that his head’s in a helmet, and he’s in a spacesuit bounding across the dusty red surface of Mars.

Was this really a good idea, BC? Or did you just want to get away from the spotlight’s glare?

Well, you’ve gotten away, alright. Welcome to Mars. Welcome to the dust.
The simulacra looked eerily like me. Hope it fools the news media. It’s weird to see yourself like
that, to be able to stand beside yourself! To be able to make a bad joke: I’m just beside myself!

Now, there’s nothing beside me but dust!

The dust. I remember Fiza telling me the dust was the worst thing about Mars. “The dust is
fucking everywhere, gets into everything!” I can hear her now: “The fucking dust!”

BC plants one foot in front of the other, following the guidance array projected on the inside of his helmet’s visor.

Sand and dust flies through the air, whipped up by random winds. BC can’t see the outpost he’s making his way towards, but the glowing green, heads-up helmet array tells him he’s headed in the right direction. He can hear Cardinal Hardwick and Cardinal Terpa in his head, as he goes over their conversation in Rome.

“There is no way you are going to Mars!’ Cardinal Terpa tells BC. “You’re hardly ever here as it is!

You’re on the Moon, or out at this new ‘Project’ we’ve just heard about… you can’t go to Mars! It’s too dangerous! And, besides, you need an invitation, a request from them at the least before you can go there. You can’t just visit… you’re the Pope!”

“That’s why it needs to be a secret trip,” BC tells her. “I don’t want it to be an official state trip. I want it to be hush-hush. Al-Salid and I discussed this ahead of time.”

“We appreciate your, er, unique approach to the papacy,” Cardinal Hardwick says to BC. “But this is well beyond the sphere of reasonable behavior for the pontiff.” Hardwick shakes his head disapprovingly.

“These are unique times, Cardinal Hardwick!” BC says, overruling him. “An alien plague is killing us! An ancient alien killer is on the loose! Humanity, what’s left of it, needs to band together.

“I need to see Al-Salid in person, need to speak with him off of the world’s stage. See where his head’s at.”

And I should see that soon enough.

BC slides down the side of a dune, careful not to trip over the rocks that break the surface of the sand near the bottom of the dune.

The dunes are growing smaller, the sand underfoot more gravelly.

The terrain is changing.

The outpost is just a click or two ahead.

Wonder what the Japanese saw in this place?

The UIN was kind of forced here, so they’ve got an excuse! But who would voluntarily
choose
to live here?

The helmet array blinks from green to red. A small hut just in front of him is outlined by red light on the glass of his helmet.

Good! The outpost.

Where’s the door?

Wind whips a cloud of dust at his helmet’s faceplate as he walks around the outside of the hut. He waves it away, trying to see.

I thought they were terraforming Mars? All they’ve done is kick up the wind! You still need a
suit to breathe out here.

BC finds the door to the small airtight hut. He opens a panel in the door, revealing a row of green lights and a touchpad.

All green. Still functional!

He opens the hut’s door, steps into the airlock and seals the door behind him. He finds the airlock controls and cycles the lock, filling the space with oxygen. The inner door opens, and BC walks into the hut.

BC double checks for atmosphere using the suit’s sensors. He breaks the helmet’s seal and takes it off. He looks around. The hut is about ten feet square, the size of a small stateroom, with a cot and a survival stack.

Solar panels on the roof outside provide the power, keeping the hut’s air reclamation system functioning. He breathes in the air.

Huh! A little stale. Not too bad, though. And this place
is
old!

BC tries brushing some of the dust off his suit before realizing it’s futile. He laughs, again hearing Fiza echoing in his head, bitching about the dust.

At least I’m here! The Project ship put me down where it was supposed to – about a click from
here. It’ll pick me up there in a week. All according to plan.

This old Japanese outpost is about twenty clicks from the nearest, and largest, inhabited Mars
colony, where Al-Salid is said to live.

Wouldya look at this! Everything in here is coated with a fine layer of grainy, red dust… at no
extra charge!

BC puts his helmet down, but doesn’t bother to remove the suit.

I’ll be needing it to make the twenty click trek to the UIN colony soon enough. Might as well
keep it on. No need to get any of this dust inside the suit.

BC rummages through the survival stack and finds an energy bar, still sealed and apparently edible. He sits on the cot and eats.

Mars.

Sand and shit.

The sun rises outside, not the wide warm disc of Earth, but the small mean sun of Mars, casting a thin bright light through the dusty haze.

Sunlight seeps into the survival hut from outside, giving everything inside a soft red glow.
Might as well see if I can sleep the day away. I’ve gotta wait for nightfall to make the trip to
the UIN facility.

He lies down on the cot, still wearing the atmosphere suit. He tries, best he can, to relax and get comfortable.

Gotta love these pajamas.

BC somehow manages to drift off. He’s half asleep when he feels… something.
What, though?

A presence?

Who’s there?

Nothing!

But I feel like someone’s watching me, hovering over me. Or just nearby.
Who’s there?

It felt like the last time.

Not like Fortune Station.

But like the last couple headache dreams.

Can you hear me, whoever you are? Are you listening to my thoughts?

Are you somehow here in my head?

Who are you?

I think I might know.

Are you who I think you are?

Who’s there?

No answer…

The sensation is gone.

Weird.

I wonder.

BC falls fully asleep after the strange invasion into his thoughts. When he wakes up, it’s dark outside.
Time to go to work.

Heh, it feels like the old days! Off on a mission!

I guess I really do miss this.

Miss the secret missions, the creeping around, the figuring things out, the thinking on your toes,
the adrenaline rush of getting away…

I don’t miss dealing out death, though.

Maybe I could restart the OPO? Create my own little covert army? Have my own little cadre of
assassins?

But then I might have had to send someone else out on this mission. After all, this really is no
place for the Pope of the NcC and chief CEO of the UTZ to be.

Huh! The OPO would make for way too many acronyms!

Maybe I’m afraid of getting old and boring!

BC eats another energy bar and preps for his trek. He checks through his gear. He spreads out one map on the desk for a last look at his route from the Japanese outpost to the nearest UIN facility.
Got it!

He spreads out the map of the facility itself over the other one so he can take one last look-over it. He’s trying to commit the map to memory.

BC closes his eyes.