know, I don’t think we’ve heard the end of this one, Father Campion.”
I know we haven’t. This is only the beginning, Cardinal. Only the beginning.
Chapter Nine
BC lies in pain on the couch in the Cardinal’s study.
Stuck here for more than a week, now. This sucks.
The study is quiet. BC turned off the entertainment center a few minutes ago to listen to Lunar Prime, to listen to the sounds of a station alive: the barely audible murmur of people passing outside the study doors; the low-pitched hum of the environmental systems keeping the air fresh and warm like Vatican City on a sunny spring day. And every so often, the entire place trembles and a humming, bass-y buzz is added to the other more constant sounds as a ship passes overhead. Lunar Prime itself is vastly more entertaining than the so-called entertainment center. All the same crap, all the time. Stupid UTZ advertising, most of it. Buy this, buy this, and of course, buy this.
BC stares at a painting of a black Jesus, one of many varied portraits and interpretations of Jesus Christ that hang on the walls of the study.
Wonder where the Cardinal bought this stuff? That painting there’s a hundred years old, if I read the date right.
Next to the black Jesus on the wall, to the right, is an ancient Orthodox icon of a bleached white Jesus with pinched cheeks dressed like an eastern bishop. To its left hangs a gory medieval oil painting of Jesus on the cross, bleeding and writhing in agony.
Man, I can sympathize! Okay, I don’t have nails through my hands and feet, or a spear in my side. I only feel as if nails had pierced my skin, every inch of it, all over! This sucks, but in all fairness, I suppose it’s not as bad as a crucifixion... I’m still alive, anyway. Gotta be realistic. But I’ve never felt this kind of pain before, and all over, too! I don’t think I have any part that doesn’t hurt. My mouth still tastes metallic. And my tongue’s still swollen. I did almost get killed out there.
I still don’t know how I survived. Not much has come back to me, not really, not even after a week. But my surviving might have had something to do with that ship I saw. That ship out there I didn’t recognize, hovering outside just before I passed out. It was further off than the UIN ship, out beyond the limits of Lunar Prime. The UIN ship didn’t seem to detect it. Probably too busy blowing me up to notice.
I’ve checked through the station records and port authority logs to try to find some record of the ship. There is no record of it. Nothing at all. It could have been a hallucination, except that this hallucination may have saved my life. Whoever they were must have let someone know something or I would be dead! The LSCs who picked me up got a call from someone. Maybe it was them. But, then, why save me?
Man, I am tired of not being able to talk! Tired of writing everything I want to say down, too. Thank you for all this, Miss Nita Bendix, wherever you are. Whoever you are. Thank you so much. Lovely woman.
“How are you, BC?”
Governor Edwards stands in the doorway to the Cardinal’s study.
BC grabs his stylus and screen and writes, “Fine,” and holds it up for Edwards to read as he walks in.
“Great! They told me you were doing better. Told me you still couldn’t talk, but they did say you should be up and about in the next day or two. Maybe even talking by then, too.”
BC nods.
“I just wanna apologize again for, well, your being almost killed by one of our people.”
BC writes, “Thanks. Again.”
“I’d like to treat you to lunch when you’re all better.”
BC tries to laugh, writing, “Wow, makes up for everything (sarcasm).”
Edwards almost seems hurt, “Hey look, Father, I’m just trying to...”
BC waves his arms, writes, “JOKING!” and holds it up. He shrugs, then writes, “Thank you. Next week?”
“Sure. Next week’ll be good. I really just wanted to stop by and see how you were. I really feel kind of
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