by Mike Luoma
"It would be nice if it did make a difference,” Wentworth says. “I'm just telling you it won't. We're already too far in, there's too much lost on both sides. Too much blood."
"That's always it, isn't it? Blood begets blood," BC muses.
"Now you're sounding downright Biblical, Campion. Are you sure you haven't gone soft?" Wentworth chides him.
"Don't you think making this public would get the people to back a peace initiative? This could be just the thing to jump start the peace process!" BC says.
"Damn, Campion, now you sound like a bloody diplomat! We can't let the public know now. It's been too long. We've known it too long and kept it from them for too long. They'll hate us because we didn't let them know for ten years. And consider this, Campion. If they find out it was Hindus, then maybe they'll start killing Hindus. Most of the Hindus now live up here, on the Moon. So maybe Lunar Prime gets nuked in 'retaliation'. Blood does beget blood, like it or not, Campion.
“You fond of that scenario?" Wentworth asks him.
"Not exactly. Seems extreme to me."
"A good rule about human behavior, Campion," Wentworth leans in, "People are extreme. You almost can't be too extreme in your predictions; people always manage to take things further than you can possibly imagine. You can almost never expect people to stay well behaved and predictable," Wentworth says. He finishes his dispensation of insight and leans back.
"No one is completely predictable, but most people are mostly predictable," BC counters. Damn. That sounded lame. Try to at least sound intelligent, BC, huh?
"Just because you," Wentworth points at him, "are completely predictable doesn't mean else is." Shift gears and topics.
"Anyway, Wentworth,” BC says, “Give some thought to what the UTZ might be willing to give up to the UIN. Maybe something we can use this time.
“And as for people's reactions, you've been in business long enough to know it's all in the packaging, right? Their reception is highly dependent on how we sell it to them," BC points out. "We need to try everything this time. Nobody is getting what they want through violence anymore. You said it yourself, it's no longer profitable!"
Wentworth nods his concession.
"So let's try and get a truce done," BC says, bringing the conversation back around. "Let's make it official, make a start, and give people some hope."
"Listen to you!" Wentworth says with an ironic laugh. "This is a whole different agenda for you, Campion!
You're serious about this?"
"Figure it out, Wentworth. Too many people have died. Will die if we don’t make some progress here."
"But you kill people!" Wentworth puts it right in BC's face. BC grimaces. "Not so much, anymore. And, when I did? It was under orders from the Pope and the OPO, which, I'm sure in some way, ultimately means, for you, right?" Wentworth doesn't respond.
"I killed people who in some way deserved to die. I was just the instrument of divine judgment. That’s what I tell myself so I can sleep at night," BC admits.
"Pretty flimsy rationalization," Wentworth prods him.
"Somewhere along the way, someone decided that when someone does something heinous enough, commits a crime against society bad enough, society has a right to end that someone's life. When society's judgment is passed, society requires executioners to carry out that judgment. These executioners are not murderers themselves, but the instrument of society, and God's will. I have been an executioner. I'll grant you that. You," BC says nodding at Wentworth with a by-the-way, "who passed those very judgments. By the way."
"I'm glad you can live with yourself, Campion, but what does..." BC interrupts Wentworth this time, "It’s innocent people who are dying in this war, all the time: the original UTZ massacre of the Muslims on Mars, the whole UIN Christmas offensive that killed the Cardinal and Reverend Swan, and all the other ordinary people who were just trying to go about their business. Too many people are dying, Wentworth," BC knows he's not the most eloquent but he presses on, "Let's see if we can slow it down, huh?” BC suggests. “Why the fuck not? Do you wanna die?"
"Not especially. But I could live with it," Wentworth laughs at his own wordplay. "I'm not afraid of dying, Campion, are you?"
"Not afraid of it. I'm just not in any hurry to die,” BC says. “I am afraid of Morons, though. There are too many morons too quick on the trigger, no matter their underlying ideology. It doesn't matter what motivates the morons. Motivated morons lead to fatal mistakes. Give the morons a reason and they'll call for blood and demand the kill."
"Are you calling the men and women of our armed forces morons, Campion? That's a bit..."
"Not at all!" BC clarifies, "I'm talking about the society that sends them into battle. The soldiers are just instruments, like I was."
"Oh." Wentworth pauses, steeples his fingers together in front of his mouth, "So, then, I'm the moron."
"Not what I meant,” BC says. “But you're not above using them, manipulating the morons. You do it all the time. You make money off them, influence their buying habits."
"So consumers are morons..."
"You try to make them morons,” BC presses. “They consume less problematically when they're kept stupid. They ask fewer pointed questions. It’s beneficial to your business."
"So, the masses are morons to you, eh Campion? What ever happened to love your neighbor?" Wentworth laughs.
"I'm supposed to love my neighbor, but he's a moron!” BC says. “Makes it tough. That's the big challenge, as I see it. Gotta love the morons."
"Well, you shouldn't fear the morons. Fear is dangerous, Campion, it gives them, the morons, power over you. Don't fear them, control them! Motivate them to your ends, don’t you see? Keep them busy, occupied, out of trouble, and out of your hair."
"So, Wentworth, do you control them? Do you think you do? Because you were saying how unpredictable they were just a few minutes ago..."
"I said I try to. I do my best. Your church used to be an excellent means of control, a wonderful tool for motivating the masses. Which, by the way, is why we're currently at something of a loss, since your Pope withdrew his UTZ support. Current circumstances give us less control. Speaking of less control,”
Wentworth pauses, “I don't see your new pope exerting much control of his own. That means that these days, there's not as much control over the masses, the morons as you call them, period. These days, the morons are on their own. That does make them more dangerous.
“Maybe you're right to show a little fear, Campion."
"I've got to believe that for all his supposed ignorance, Pope Linus knows all this, what you say, on some level,” BC admits. “Which is maybe why we're all here this weekend, eh?"
“Circular, Campion. So… you think your Pope is finally starting to try to control his morons, is that it?"
"Maybe. In a way,” BC admits. “He seems to prefer to be inscrutable,” BC cracks. “I can tell you he was none too happy about our chumminess. It wasn’t until after you brought me to the UTZ Council meeting in the spring that I even got to meet with him, remember.
“He asks about our relationship quite a bit. He thinks I'm your man... I think."
"Ironic. Well, then, maybe you really are neutral, Campion. Maybe you are the right man for this job. Although, from what I happened to overhear earlier, you'll need to improve your communication skills with the good Mohammed Ibn Sere."
"Yeah, that didn't go so well. Believe me, I'm working on it. But let me ask you again,” BC says, changing the subject. “What does the UTZ need for a truce?"
Wentworth fixes his stare on BC, "Like I said, we WANT peace. We need guaranteed security for our investments and business interests. We want to be safe. I might not fear death, but that doesn't mean I invite it. The UIN stands for destabilizing all of that, it’s part of what they are! How do you change that?
“We'd like them to stop, but they don't. They won't. It's part of their religion. They need to dominate, to have everyone else believe as they do,
or die and get out of their way. Still very primitive in some ways. Tribal. They're the aggressors. At this point, we're just asking them to stop." Alrighty… This is going nowhere.
"Okay. I hear what you're saying,” BC tells him. “I'm going to go now, Wentworth, and consider what you've told me tonight. I'll sleep on it. We'll see if we can make any headway when the negotiations begin tomorrow."
"Sure you can't stay for a drink or something, Campion?" Wentworth offers.
"Nah. I try to avoid drinking. Seems it gives me headaches." Wentworth laughs, "Subtle! Well, then, goodnight, acting ambassador."
"Goodnight, Representative Wentworth. What about the McEntyre thing?"
"Leave that to my people. We'll see what we can find on the two of them; see if we have a weapon to use against Mr. McEntyre," Wentworth says, a hint of menace in his voice. Man! The guy can be legitimately scary sounding.
“Okay then… good night, Wentworth,” BC says.
“Good night, Campion.”
BC makes his way out of the secure room, out of Wentworth’s suite and back to the Vatican Mission, his thoughts abuzz.
Couldn’t get Wentworth to come up with anything they’d give up for peace. Don’t know if Al Sere is even taking this seriously. Any of it. Me. All I can do is hope for the best. And get some sleep.
BC locks his rooms for the night, finds his way into bed, and sleeps a hopeful sleep. The next two days fly by, a flurry of meetings, discussions, arguments and attempts at true dialogue. The high level players meet, exchange pleasantries, and talk in generalities while the career diplomats meet to outline possible compromises.
BC gets a little frustrated when he can’t get the top level representatives, Al Sere and Wentworth, to meet together again on the second day of the conference, but the lower level talks continue all the same. On day three of the conference, BC finally gets Wentworth, Al Sere and himself alone together to hash things out face to face.
“Well, can we all at least agree to sign a statement confirming that we all seek a lasting peace?” BC asks the other two men.
“We do want peace,” Al Sere agrees.
“Well,” Wentworth says, then pauses, then continues, “Well, of course we do!”
“Look,” BC tells the two combatants, “I didn’t think we’d come out of here with any concessions of territory or position. But I did hope we could at least reassure people that we actually really did want to try to work out our differences peacefully.”
“No concessions? But a joint statement?” Al Sere asks. “Do you think this will have any weight?”
“I do,” BC insists. Al Sere looks the question over to Wentworth.
“People are funny,” Wentworth says with a quick laugh. “I think he’s right,” Wentworth nods in BC’s direction.
“What about visitations? Travel restrictions?” BC asks.
“Token Gestures,” Al Sere says, waving BC’s suggestions away with a sweep of his hand.
“Too complicated to work,” Wentworth says in dismissal of the ideas.
Stubborn, pigheaded, mulish…
“Let’s give the declaration some teeth,” BC says. “Your people,” BC indicates Al Sere, “have already agreed to ease some travel restrictions if the UTZ will do the same and allow for visitation to holy sites. Your people,” BC says to Wentworth, “have agreed on the easing of the travel restrictions, but not the visitations.”
“That is correct,” Al Sere says.
“Yes, you’re right,” Wentworth reluctantly agrees.
“Where do you want to go?” BC asks Al Sere.
“Where? Well, some places have been destroyed, but there are still many holy places on Earth…”
“How about a top five?” BC asks.
“A top five?” Al Sere asks. “Are you serious?”
“Absolutely,” BC says. He waves his arms. “Don’t tell me what they are now. Have your people come up with a top five list of places you want visitation rights to and bring it to the table. Wentworth?”
“Yes, Campion?”
“Can’t the UTZ allow Muslims to visit five of their holy sites?”
“I guess it depends on where the five are located, what they are,” Wentworth says. “But five is not an unreasonable number.”
“So,” BC proposes, “we put together a declaration that says all sides are intent on working together, going forward towards peace. And, as a symbol of our intention to work together, both sides agree to even further ease the already agreed upon scaling back of travel restrictions. The UTZ also agrees to allow Muslim visitation of five holy sites that we’ll determine here shortly. If we put all that into a declaration, will you two sign it?” BC asks, hopeful.
There is silence in the room. BC looks from Al Sere to Wentworth. Wentworth looks at BC, and then Al Sere.
“If you’ll sign, we’ll sign,” Wentworth says to Al-Sere.
“We’ll sign. But no concessions!” Al Sere says.
“No concessions,” Wentworth agrees.
BC smiles.
“Fantastic! Was that so hard?” BC asks the two men.
All three stand and shake hands, finding some common cause despite their differences. As a grand finale to the peace conference, BC arranges for the three of them to make a public display of signing the declaration and shaking hands. BC has his people draw up the documents once the negotiations have been finalized, once the career diplomats have dotted the “i”s and crossed the “t”s. Now I have a declaration! Well... how 'bout that?
At the end of the conference, there actually seems to be some common ground between the sides. To the surprise of most of the parties involved, and maybe to BC most of all, the conference is actually deemed a success! As the news breaks, the media and spokespeople on all sides discuss the conference in glowing terms. BC has his hope.
The intangible result of the conference is a melting of the icy, resolute, pigheaded determination to be right that both sides once held dear. The tangible result is the signed declaration, an official agreement to at least start looking for ways to cooperate, ways to budge a little on both sides, to find a way to peace. The picture of the three-way handshake between BC, Wentworth and Al Sere is displayed on all the public news screens as BC walks with Al Sere a few steps ahead of Wentworth to the Lunar Prime Spaceport on Tuesday morning.
At the gate, BC shakes Ibn Al Sere's hand, again. The Arab bows, turns, and strolls off to his waiting ship.
That went better than I could have expected. My head still aches... but we have a truce! He's not a bad guy when it comes right down to it. Just feels like his people have gotten the short end of the stick for two hundred years. He's not far from the truth, either. Hell, they don't even have a place on their own home world!
Well… Visitation rights are a start.
It was hard enough getting that out of the UTZ given their security concerns. Harder still to get the UIN to see it as anything but a token gesture. But they did! It's a beginning... Hey, is that McEntyre! I wonder what's up with... now THAT'S interesting!
Daniel McEntyre looks over at BC. When their eyes met, McEntyre looks away quickly. He takes off in the opposite direction.
I think he actually blushed. What has Wentworth been up to? Speak of the devil...
"Campion!"
"Wentworth!" BC strides over to meet the approaching CEO and shakes his hand. "Thank you for giving this peace thing a chance!"
"Thank you for having the balls to approach this thing on a different level,” Wentworth says firmly. “I like your straight talk, Campion. Oh, and you'll like a little talk we had with Mr. McEntyre. It's funny when you turn on the lights, how all the rats go scurrying,” Wentworth says. “Your peace deal won't be the only news breaking on Lunar Prime this week, if all goes as I believe it will. How well do you know the Lieutenant Governor, this Amanda Erskine?"
"I've met her a few times, talked to her a little,” BC tells him. “She seems level headed, apparently neutral. Why?"
Wentworth s
miles a Cheshire cat smile, but says nothing. He turns and walks away without another word, disappearing down the passageway to his ship.
Wentworth must have worked over McEntyre. Did he get the security videos? Did he leak the stuff on McEntyre?
BC suddenly finds himself thinking of Fiza and feeling guilty for his friendliness towards Wentworth. I conveniently forgot about Fiza while I tried to make this conference work… while I was working with Wentworth. It was good to be on his side, to see how he does business. I don’t think I’d want to be on an opposing side from him! Although maybe I am…
This thing with Fiza and him could end badly if I force it. And, come to think of it… think of all the things he could leak about me! Gotta face it, when it comes to Wentworth and Fiza, there’s not much I can do for her, even now.
Pathetic. And I almost started to like the guy. Not trust him... But I’ve got to deal with him. Can’t forget what he’s capable of.
Chapter Ten
Two news items break as the peace conference breaks up. The first is an announcement from Earth, from Vatican City: Pope Linus announces his extreme pleasure and regard for his ambassador, Father Bernard Campion. The Pope lauds his ability to broker the fragile peace in the war between the two long feuding enemies. Pope Linus announces that Campion is hereby raised to the status of full Ambassador to Lunar Prime for the Vatican and his Holiness the Pope.”
The second news item concerns Daniel McEntyre. Wentworth’s people seem to have found what they needed: video leaked from unknown sources to the media from McEntyre’s office security cam show repeated visits to McEntyre’s office by a known UIN assassin, Nita Bendix, still at large and wanted for the death of his wife Meredith McEntyre. The media have a field day speculating on the relationship between McEntyre and his wife’s supposed killer. BC notes there’s no mention of the Asian girl from McEntyre’s past.
If that didn’t come out, maybe McEntyre made a deal… but if Wentworth is letting the rest of this out, I can’t imagine McEntyre cooperated too much at all.