FLARN MANAGES
by Luthienn
Fandom: Babylon5/Crusade crossover
Rating: G – PG-13
Genre: Angst, Drama
Series: none
Pairing: Neroon/OFC, sort of, possible other pairings later.
Disclaimer: The Babylon 5 universe belongs to JMS. I'm just borrowing the characters for some fun. I promise to give them back relatively unharmed. Only the main character belongs to me – please don't use her without permission.
Summary: In the 5th year of Crusade, a cure for the Drakh virus is miraculously found. Posted in the B5 section because most of the events happen years before Crusade.
Author's notes: Obviously, the events of this story don't always match with the official Babylon 5/Crusade canon. This is an AU, based on the canon of the television series only. Please keep this important fact in mind when reading.
Characters not recognizable from Babylon 5 or Crusade are real life friends, getting a cameo. Except the names of the cardinals, actually. They are simply made up. And yes, Carmelite nuns actually do have names like that. It's one of the peculiarities of that order.
It was 0730, CET, when Pope Bernadette II returned from morning services at the Carmelite sisters' small convent to her official quarters in the Vatican. For years upon years, these early morning visits had made her capable of going on with her daily work.
At first sight nobody would have guessed her high status in the Catholic Church. She was a medium-height, stocky woman, barely on the far side of the fifty-year-barrier, wore a simple black soutane (she liked to silence the protest of her cardinals against this custom of hers with the mock-annoyed remark that the proper, pope-y white one made her look fat) and round, old-fashioned glasses. All in all, she was rather unremarkable, to put it mildly.
With her smooth, reddish-brown hair twisted into a low bun on the nape of her neck, she didn't look any different than the other clergywomen that could be spotted time and again on the streets of Rome. And while female priests were still something of a rarity in the Catholic Church, even in the 23rd century (the Church being notoriously slow and hesitant with changes, even with the most crucial ones), people had slowly grown used to see them during the recent hundred years or so and didn't glare at them in disbelief any longer.
A certain degree of caution was undoubtedly required on Earth in these days. Mankind lived – if the mere existence could be called living at all – in the fifth year of the Drakh Plague, and despair had begun to overcome the whole planet. Doomsday cults like the Sacred Omega sect rose overnight and attracted people like a flame attracts moths. Suicide acts, mindlessly destructive actions, plunderings were the order of the day. And things were getting worse, with every passing day that ate away a small bit of what little hope for salvation people still had.
The Pope knew that, logically, she shouldn't be walking on the streets alone, unprotected – especially not in these early hours. She could have attended to service in San Pietro just as well. In fact, she was supposed to celebrate the Holy Mass in San Pietro at ten o'clock. She was the Pope, after all, and people who filled the churches all over the world were looking up to her for strength, guidance and support.
Which was the exact reason why she needed these hours for herself, every morning. These were the hours she drew her strength from; from the psalms, sung by the Sisters of the Carmel in a manner that had not changed since the times of St. Teresa von Avila; from the soothing atmosphere of the Carmel, permeated by centuries of silence and meditation; from the power of unbroken tradition that seemed to keep those thick walls of the convent together, much stronger than mortar could have done.
And, of course, from the steadfast support and friendship of one Sister Teresa Benedicta a Cruce.
The Pope and the nun had known each other for decades. They had both come from Austria, a small and rather insignificant region in Middle-Europe, met through a mutual friend (who had died as one of the first victims of the Drakh Plague, just a few months ago), they both chose a life in a convent, so understanding had been formed early on between them.
Their lives, however, had developed very differently.
Katharina Spinner entered the Carmel in Austria and become Sister Teresa Benedicta a Cruce. Her life had been restrained to the convent from that day on.
Luise Schmitz couldn't follow the calling of her heart at once, as her family had opposed her plans violently. Thus she had first completed a degree in education and become a school teacher, since she needed to support her mother and grandparents. But she had never given up her original intention to live a life in the service of the Church and studied theology in the evening school
When she turned twenty-nine, she and her family finally found a compromise. She left school work and got ordained as a priest. This way, she was able to support her family and yet lead a life that was at least close to her original calling.
She had held small, insignificant positions for fourteen years, until – during the last year of the Earth-Minbari war – her predecessor, Pope Bernadette I, appointed her as the bishop of St. Pölten. It had been quite a shock for her, but the Pope had explained that the Church needed a great deal of rebuilding after the war (assumed there was anything left to rebuild), and that she needed people with a strong practical sense and a lot of experience in pastoral work to accomplish that.
Half a year later – the war had barely ended and Earth lay in ruin – Pope Bernadette I died, but not before naming her predecessor in front of the Conclave: the Bishop of Sankt Pölten. The cardinals had not been overjoyed by that choice, and it took them weeks of heated discussions to finally reach the decision, according to the wish of the late Pope.
Theoretically, they could have chosen someone else, of course. But the late Pope had sent her official declaration to ISN just before her death, and thus everyone knew whom she had wanted as her successor. And while people usually didn't care much for the internal politics of the Catholic Church, as it had become just one of the many human religions during the recent centuries, the election of the Pope was still news; it would have cast a really bad light upon the cardinals, had they ignored the explicit wish of the late Pope. Especially as Bernadette I had been extremely well-respected, even outside of her Church. It was better to give in and hope that things would work out somehow.
Thus Bernadette II had been elected, and her first years upon the throne of Petrus were less than pleasant or easy. Her predecessor had been a nun of a contemplative order, a highly respected theologian and considered a saint. She was none of those things, and some high-ranking members of the clergy often treated her in an almost insulting manner. But unlike them, she had understood the reason of her predecessor's choice.
Bernadette I had been elected at the beginning of the Dilgar war because at times of war people needed strength and spiritual support. Due to her personal background, she had been able to provide that, and she had proved to be the rock in the storm during the Earth-Minbari war as well. But in the aftermath of war, for the hard and often dirty work of rebuilding, a different type of leader was needed. A leader experienced in the practical aspects of life, who could roll up her sleeves and do the actual work, if necessary.
Bernadette II had proved very successful in that sort of work.
She had managed to keep the Church together during President Clark's reign of terror and the Telepath Wars, providing help and asylum to those who were hunted, and she had mediated between the warring parties as well as she could. She was by no means a diplomat, but she had a strong common sense and something she called the BS-detector, when in the circle of her friends: she could see through lies and evasive maneuvers with an almost frightening clarity. Years spent among teenaged kids in upper primary school could develop that sense in a person.
Things had just begun to lighten up on Earth, when – seemingly out of nowhere – the Drakh Plague hit. This time it truly seemed that God had grown tired of mankind… or with Earth, at the very least.
"Mene, Mene, Tekel, Upharsin(1)," she murmured absent-mindedly, entering her study.
It was hard to accept. She had hoped that, against all hope, a cure would be found in time. But time was running out quickly, and the first people had already begun to fall victim to the Drakh Plague. Medical scientists estimated that the population of Earth had about eight months left. Probably even less. This time, Armageddon truly seemed to have come.
The Pope sat down behind her desk, poured herself a cup of coffee from the ever-present thermos standing on a small, wheeled table on her right and checked her daily schedule. It was tight as always, but she welcomed it. Work was good. It helped her keeping her sanity. Being busy saved her from freaking out.
She began reading the reports that had come in during the night. It was not pleasant reading stuff, but she needed to remain informed about how things were going in the various local churches.
Needless to say, things were not going well. But she hadn't expected them to, so it was no big surprise.
"Computer," she said tiredly when she felt the urgent need of a break, "have there been any calls coming in during the last six hours?"
"You have had twenty-six calls during this time period," the artificial voice told her; she hated it, but it was still better than keeping her poor secretary awake at impossible hours. The woman was nine years her senior, after all, she should have been in retirement for years, but insisted on remaining in service, and the Pope was grateful for it. Without Judith's organizatory talents and excellent memory her office would have sunk into chaos years ago.
"List me the calls in chronological order," she said.
"Acknowledged," the computer replied. "Number one: a call from President Luchenko. Number two: a call from Cardinal Giotto. Number three: a call from the Pastoral Congregation, dispatched to Dr. Judith Block for further consideration. Number four: a call from Cardinal Ferrero, acknowledging your latest orders. Number five: a call from Cardinal Roché. Number six: a call from Reverend Dexter, dispatched to Dr. Judith Block. Number seven: a call from Cardinal Raffaello. Number eight: a private call from Reverend Henderson. Number nine: a call from Cardinal Grandoletti. Number ten: a call from Rabbi Leo Meyers, dispatched to Dr. Judith Block. Number eleven: a call from Brother Theo…"
"Stop. You mean Brother Theo? As in Brother Theo from Babylon 5?"
"Confirmed."
"Oh, good. Call Brother Theo back for me. Use a secure channel."
The computer gave a sound of acknowledgement and placed the call. A few moments later the round head of the old, bearded Trappist monk appeared on the viewscreen. Seeing the face of the Pope, Brother Theo grinned broadly.
"Your Holiness! What brings me the honour and pleasure of your call?
The Pope smiled back at him. They had known each other for longer than she cared to count, and Brother Theo knew perfectly well that he didn't need to give her the official title. One that she found way mismatched when it came to her person and thus disliked greatly. He did it to tease her, and for no other reason.
"Theo, my old friend, it's good to see you, too," she said. "How are you faring?"
"Reasonably well, save the small woes of advanced age," the old monk replied in good humour, as always. Then his expression sobered abruptly. "And how are things back home?"
"Bad," the Pope answered bluntly, "and getting worse. People are growing desperate here; small wonder, with a death warrant hanging above their heads. Crime rates are rising to unparalleled heights all over the planet. The pressure on us is growing, too. People are seeking support and guidance – which is the only positive side effect of this whole ugly mess. But I must admit, this was not the way I'd hoped to fill our churches again."
"No, I guess not," Brother Theo's eyes saddened considerably. "I'm glad that at least you have Benedicta nearby."
"So am I, believe me," the Pope admitted thoughtfully.
As a rule, Carmelite nuns lived out their lives in the very same convent that they had joined in the first place. Reassignments were almost unheard-of. But when Bernadette II had been elected, Sister Teresa Benedicta a Cruce applied officially requested a transfer to the Carmel in Rome, in order to provide her old friend with some moral support. And one of the few advantages of being the Pope was that Bernadette II could grant that request within her own authority, without fighting with a dozen committees about it first.
"You called me a few days ago," Brother Theo picked up the thread of their conversation again. "I apologize for not answering earlier, but I wasn't on Babylon 5. I had been to Minbar, visiting the Sisters of Valeria – a most remarkable religious order. I bet Rabbi Meyers would be excited to learn about them… Forgive me; I seem to have become talkative at my old age. What did you want from me?"
The Pope took a deep breath. This wasn't going to be easy, but she had to persuade Brother Theo to accept her decision, and she had to manage it now. There might not be another opportunity.
"Listen carefully, Theo, for I don't know if I'm going to have the chance to repeat what I'm about to tell you now. The people on Earth have eight months left to live, tops. Probably even less."
"Is that certain?" Brother Theo asked, a little shocked. He, too, had hoped that the original estimate had been too pessimistic. The Pope nodded.
"I've just read the official report of the medical institutes. Unless, of course, a miracle happens and a cure will be found in that time, but I'm slowly losing hope in that. But the continuity of the office must not be broken. So, in case I'm going to die in the near future, I have appointed you as my successor. Judy will be sending you the encoded documents about his decision within two days."
"Me?" now the old monk was clearly more than just a little shocked. "But I am not even ordained as a bishop."
"You are now," the Pope shrugged. "I signed the documents yesterday. Cardinal Ferrero, the only Conclave member not infected, will travel to Babylon 5 with two other bishops from Earth colonies to handle your ordination as soon as possible. We can't take any chances on this."
"But why me? Ferrero would be a much better choice."
"No, he wouldn't. Firstly, he is a jurist; a fine one, but not exactly a people's person. Secondly, he has Proxima 3 to consider. He is needed in his own diocese."
"Are you sure he agrees with you in this?"
"Quite sure. He agreed to support you with his considerable knowledge, but he said himself that he wouldn't make a good Pope, not in this crisis, when the Church is about to be limited to a few thousand people, scattered across a dozen colony planets and outposts."
"And I would?"
"Most certainly. You are the right person for the job, Theo – the only person to stand up to these extraordinary demands. You have your brethren to support you. You'll have Ferrero to help you with the bureaucracy. You already have contacts to various alien religious leaders – and you live on an independent station, so that you can't be blackmailed into anything by the colonial governments." The Pope paused, staring at her old friend intently. "I count on you, Theo. The future of our Church is in your hands. Don't let me down. Please."
Brother Theo bowed his grey head in resignation. "I won't, Your Holiness. I give you my word."
"Good," the Pope smiled. "Maybe there will be a wonder happening, just in time to spare you the horrors."
"I surely wish there would," Brother Theo said solemnly, "but things are not looking well. The Excalibur has just returned to Babylon 5 for repairs, after a six-month-long deep space exploration trip…"
"And…?"
"So far, they have found nothing," the old monk sighed. "We are helping to analyse the data they have collected, of course; and there still is a small chance of finding something useful, but…"
The Pope nodded, suddenly feeling very tired. "I understand. Well, we have to face the fact that there may not be a cure, after all. We might like playing God, in fact, we seem to do it much too frequently, but in the end, we are not God. We can hope for wonders, but we can't enforce them."
"Considering our history, this is probably the lesser evil," Brother Theo answered grimly, "even though I'm not looking forward to see that history end like this."
"Neither do I," the Pope sighed. "I have to go, Theo. There is much work to do, and I intend to do it, as long as I am able to. Keep me informed, will you?"
"Of course, Your Holiness. May I have your blessing?"
"You have always had it, and you'll always have, old friend," the Pope raised her hand to the traditional blessing, then she broke the connection. This particular conversation had been more painful that she had feared. She hadn't looked forward to load such a burden onto the shoulders of Brother Theo, but there was no other way.
"Mene, Mene, Tekel, Upharsin," she muttered again, before returning to her work. "God has numbered the days of our kingdom and brought it to an end. We have been weighed in the balances and found wanting. Our kingdom is divided and given to the Shadows. Or the Drakh. What a pity. And I have hoped that this time we would actually learn from our mistakes. Obviously, we have tried God's patience one time too many."
TBC
(1) See: Daniel 5:25. With a few modifications, of course.