by Mike Luoma
“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…
Chapter Two
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.
BC addresses his com unit. “Answer all calls with the following message. Begin recording: Hello. This is Father Bernard Campion, the Ambassador for the Holy See, Vatican City, and his holiness Pope Linus the Second. I’m not available right now. And I will not be responding to any ridiculous allegations made by any politician who uses the news media to sully the reputations of others for their own personal political gain. Thank you. End recording.”
“Recording ended. Message sent,” the unit says.
“Keep using that announcement to answer all incoming messages until I tell you to change it,” BC orders the unit.
“Answering incoming signals with the recorded message until further instructions,” the unit informs BC. Beep. Beep. Beep. Beep.
I thought I told that thing to… oh, it’s the door. Oh no…
“Who is it?!” BC calls out.
The door speaker crackles.
“Father Campion? This is ‘Lunar Prime News Service’, we just want to ask you a few questions about Daniel McEntyre’s allegations today that you are a…”
“No comment!” BC shouts. “Door lock secure! No interruptions! Do not disturb!”
Goddamn him!
BC paces across his stateroom.
“Com unit! Get me Governor Marc Edwards,” BC barks.
“Governor’s office,” a young sounding male voice, not Edwards, answers.
“Governor Edwards, please. It’s Bernard Campion and it’s kind of important I speak to him immediately.”
“Yeah, I can see why,” the guy answers back.
Jeesh, a comedian… who is this kid? I don’t remember him.
“Yeah, okay, please, just put me through to Edwards, okay?” BC tries asking nicely.
“He’s in a meeting right now.”
“This is an emergency!” BC stifles the urge to crawl through the com unit and strangle the kid. He tries to keep his voice even toned. “I think the governor might want to talk to me right now.”
“He’s talking to my dad ‘right now’. They’re busy. I’ll give him the message you called.”
“Your dad? Who is this?” BC demands.
“I don’t have to tell you,” the kid teases BC. BC scowls.
“Visual on!” BC commands. He can now see the young teen sitting at the governor’s reception desk.
“Capture and ID!” BC orders.
“Visual off! Com off,” the boy yells. The viewer blinks as the picture disappears and sound clicks off.
“Subject is a minor,” BC’s com unit tells him. “Justin Spear. Only child. Son of Julius Spears and Margaret “Maggie” Spears. Maggie Spears deceased, December 25, 2109.”
Mother died in the Christmas attacks. Don’t know the mother or the father…
Heh… I do like these new security features!
“Identify Julius Spears?” BC commands the com unit.
“Spears, Julius,” the com unit begins. “Born July 13, 2061. Earth. United States sector of Universal Trade Zone. Graduated with honors, Jersey City Polytechnic Institute for Media, May 2082. Employed by MediAdvisors of Lunar Prime.”
“MediAdvisors?” BC queries.
“Advertising agency,” the com unit informs him.
MediAdvisors? I don’t know them. Marc must have brought them in to help on the campaign. I’ll have to tell him the guy’s kid is a brat…
“Com unit, get me Marc Edwards, please,” BC asks.
“Governor’s off… oh, you again,” the kid answers, then cuts off the com. Why you little prick…
BC hears something rattle. The sound comes again. It’s a rattle, coming from somewhere near the door to his stateroom. And again. BC places the sound.
It’s the glasses up on my shelf up next to the door, shaking together… someone must be hammering the outside door pretty hard! That’s beyond knocking!
“Com unit, get me security.”
“LSC. This is Security,” a woman answers.
“Yes, this is Father Bernard Campion, the Vatican Ambassador,” BC tells her. The glasses rattle again, louder this time. “There are people right now trying to break down the door to my stateroom, I was hoping you could send some officers over to stop them from doing that.”
“They’re trying to break into your stateroom? Right now?” the officer asks him. Rattle.
“Right now,” BC says.
“Yeah. I can see them on our security viewer. Looks like a few media teams. We’ll clear them away for now, but you know them, they just keep coming back,” she tells BC.
“I know,” BC says with a sigh.
“Sorry,” she says. “We’ll call back when it’s all clear, Father.”
“Thank you,” BC says, and cuts the com.
Should I bother… what the fuck?
“Com unit, get me Marc Edwards, please,” BC asks again.
“Governor’s Office. Oh. Why do you keep calling?” Justin Spears asks him. “Good buh…” he’s cut off as a voice echoes in the background over the com unit, shouting, “Justin! What are you doing?”
“Visual on!” BC commands in time to see an older man who looks like the boy come into the picture.
“Who are you?” the man who must be Julius Spears asks BC over the com unit.
“I’m Father Bernard Campion, Mr. Spears. Would you please put the governor on?” BC asks. The man’s brow furrows.
“He’s not taking calls right now, Father,” Spears says tersely. “I’ll pass your message along. Good Day.”
The com cuts off.
What a prick! Like father, like son, I guess! What the fuck is going on?
Beep. Beep. Beep. Beeep.
I thought I turned that off?
“What?!” BC yells out.
“Take it easy, BC. It’s me, Edwards.”
“How did you do that? Get through past my message, I mean?”
“Oh. Some kind of Governmental override, I guess. I just told the com to get me through to you. Sorry about Spears. Ad guys. You know how they are.”
“Yeah, his kid’s a real charmer, too. He cut me off, twice before,” BC tells him. “What are you doing, talking to him about the campaign?” BC asks Edwards.
“Yeah. I obviously need the help,” Edwards explains.
“Spears was a political consultant before branching out into commercial advertising. When I found out he was here on Lunar Prime, I thought I’d talk to him, see if he could offer me any advice.”
“Could he?”
“Sort of. But I’m not listening to some of his advice, or I wouldn’t be talking to you, ” Edwards laughs.
“What? Has it come down to you not being able to talk to me? Because of McEntyre?” BC asks.
“Yeah. He’s turned you into a ‘hot potato’, Spears said. Told me I shouldn’t go anywhere near you or be seen talking to you,” Edwards tells BC.
“That’s probably good advice,” BC admits. “Thanks for ignoring it.”
“You’re welcome. But I do need you to lay low, and I can’t be seen talking to you. Not until this election is over,” Edwards breaks the news to BC. “I’m sorry, BC. You do what you have to, but I’m going to have
to show everyone you aren’t somehow pulling my strings, you know?”
“It’s stupid, I know, but it’s true. Spears has it right,” BC admits with regret. “I’m just going to make a statement, and then try to ride this out and ‘lay low’ for you, like you say,” BC assures him. “I’ve been told to lay low by the best of them, trust me. I’ve got lots of practice,” BC says wryly.
“You know, Marc, I’ve gotta say one more time, you could always bring up the charge that he cheated on Meredith with that girl back on Earth…” BC suggests, already knowing the answer.
“No way!” Edwards protests. “I know, I know, you keep telling me I should, but I don’t want to go negative! Besides… how ‘come I’ve gotta remind you one more time that you’re a priest? You shouldn’t be sharing her information in the first place! I’m just… I don’t wanna go there. End of story, okay?”
“Okay. I just had to try one last time before I go incommunicado,” BC says.
“Thanks for understanding,” Edwards says earnestly.
“You’re welcome,” BC tells him. “Good luck, Marc. Com unit off.”
Well, fuck. This isn’t looking good. Edwards is getting desperate. Huh. Getting? He already stinks of desperation! McEntyre acts like he can smell Edwards’ fear like a dog. And Edwards won’t go on the attack…
BC’s life the next day and a half becomes a continuous game of cat and mouse with the news media: They keep trying to get him to comment on McEntyre’s allegations; he keeps dodging them. It accomplishes what McEntyre obviously hoped it would: a sideshow is created that distracts people from the real issues over the weekend before Election Day.
BC leaves his quarters to vote first thing Monday morning, Election Day. He pushes past the perching media people and walks to the polls with a parade of them trailing behind. McEntyre set us up to lose, but good. If we had ignored him and continued to meet and strategize on the election, McEntyre would’ve been able to point and say, “There! See! They are collaborating! Edwards is in the pocket of the UTZ!” We don’t meet and he says, “See! They obviously have something to hide! They’re not meeting because of what I said! They’re pretending that Campion isn’t an advisor to Edwards! Campion’s dodging the media! That proves what I said!