Тим Пауэрс - Free Stories 2018

The room was still.

"Bishop Dutto, thank you for recalling to me the precepts of my Order," Crivetto said, his face set like stone. "The Cistercians are misunderstood by many, and indeed our habits of manual labor, austerity and fidelity have often felt quite removed from the—" he paused, sweeping his eyes over the assembled council, all clad in formal attire made of rich, colorful fabric. "—sophistication of the Diocese of Rome. However, long has my Order endured both the disdain of our more worldly brethren as well as truly dire straits, such as the Nazi occupation of Greece, or the crushing of the Hungarian revolt by the Soviet fist. We know something about the last extremity. One might suppose that is why His Holiness appointed me and a few brothers to this place…"

He paused and took a deep breath.

"Fellow members of the Familia Pontificalis and my Brothers in Christ," he began. "I’m afraid that you’ve misunderstood. I am not contravening doctrine in any way, not in the slightest detail. I’m also not seeking your agreement. The office of the Camerlengo includes the historical duty to serve as acting sovereign of Vatican City in all matters, both legal and spiritual, during an interregnum. In order to elect a new pope we must again assemble the College of Cardinals, and I will work diligently towards that goal. However, until that happens, my word is the final word. Vaccinations will begin at once. Any who refuse may relocate to the Castel S’ant Angelo—"

The incipient roars of opposition were stilled as soon as I raised my hand, preparing to signal the Guard again.

"—immediately." finished Crivetto.

Archbishop Tangretti looked first at me and then towards the Camerlengo. A bright red hand print was now visible on his face. The man of the cloth communicated his hate and fear very clearly with bright, loathing eyes. However, he kept his peace.

Down the table, Atherton-Clive still wore his smile.

The recipe for vaccine is pretty brutal. It starts like this. "Begin with three dozen live infected humans. Separate spinal cords from surrounding tissue and process to a fine even, consistency." I think that they’re omitting an important step. I hope that they’re omitting a step.

I know for certain that I do not want to know how to recognize "a fine, even consistency."

Apparently, the hospital had people for that.

The vaccine was a two-part series of injections, at least a week apart. The first dose "primed" your immune system to recognize H7D3. It began to provide a little protection, but for full coverage, the "booster" was needed to accelerate the immune system’s response to the point where you could reliably beat the infection before the first phase of the flu hospitalized you. So, one person meant two shots.

Despite the papal sanction against the manufacture and use of the vaccine, many Italian Catholics who had both the connections and the budget were still clamoring for it. Where there is a demand, someone will find a supply, and the demand was enough that while we were dithering, the black market stock was being used as fast as it was made. Further, the lab manufacturing the vaccine had an "arrangement" with the Polizia Stato—the police handled raw materials in exchange for finished product.

We found out later that was not uncommon on a small scale, pretty much everywhere. Seems as though persons who are charged with high risk duties have a tendency to find solutions on their own, and policy makers be damned.

Damned.

Get it? I joke.

Anyway. The lab wouldn’t do delivery and their agents, the cops, wouldn’t sell to us, not openly. We had to go pick it up at a hospital. Fortunately, there are no fewer than five hospitals within a three kilometer drive from the walls of the Vatican. Our target was Salvator Mundi Internationale Hospitale.

Despite the apparently heartfelt emotions in the Curia’s war council, most of the senior Vatican officials and nearly all of the staff elected to accept the course of vaccine. The permanent population of the Vatican used to be about eight hundred, of which a fifth was the Swiss Papal Guard. However, more than two thousand worked there, and that’s not counting the tour operations. Even after attrition and desertion, we were already housing about fifteen hundred in total. The list of petitioners for refugee status grew daily.

Cardinal Crivetto had been quite specific about everyone in the Holy City requiring a complete course of vaccine.

Do you know what that costs?

During early negotiations I asked the Directore di Hospitali, but he equivocated. The bottom line was, "How much you got?" Paper currency and bank drafts were no longer negotiable. Bullion was a possibility. The Vatican isn’t short on gold. But what he really wanted was the Lancea Longini.

That’s right.

The good directore wanted the Spear of Destiny that is locked deep under the Basilica. In exchange for a six hundred units each of primer and booster now, and triple that in two weeks, he’d accept the lance of Centurion Longinus, who stabbed the crucified Christ.

I had a feeling that this was going to be a one-time transaction, but if that is what it took, I’d take the deal. Of course, I had to get permission from Crivetto.

He said yes without a second thought, but endorsed my insistence on getting all the vaccine up front.

Still a pragmatist.

Very early in the crisis, we had deployed the vehicle barricades that closed off vehicle access to the St. Peter’s Square. Despite experimentation, our efforts proved that there was no practical way to stop pedestrians from entering the Square itself. Not even the Gendarmerie’s riot control grenades, shot into the Square from high above, kept the supplicants away permanently. Both refugees and infected humans could stroll all the way up to the base of the steps of the Basilica and short of shooting them out of hand, there was nothing to done about it.

However we could close and fortify the building entrances. We also completely blocked pedestrian access from St. Peter’s Square into the Vatican proper. The walls of the old stone buildings were more than sufficient to keep zombies at bay. Any sane humans that appeared to have evil intent were verbally cautioned over loudspeakers and if they persisted, given a warning shot. After the collapse of our relationship with the police, I ordered the omission of the warning shot.

More on that later.

The point is that we couldn’t just drive out of St. Peter’s Square and ease on down Via delle Fornaci—I mean the main road south to the hospital. And even if we could, the roads weren’t wholly safe. Supplies were running low in the city, particularly petrol. Any vehicle was going to attract attention both from criminals and the merely desperate.

Why did I fear the regular people? Just because I’m not a parent doesn’t mean that I can’t understand how a father will do anything to provide for his family. Know how easy it is to stop a vehicle?

Exactly.

So, yes, our mission needed to account for every threat. On the outbound leg, we had surprise on our side. But anyone watching would know that we had to eventually return.

We rolled out the sally port built into the Museo Vaticano and made it to the hospital without incident. The greatest challenge was navigating the around spilled mounds of black plastic garbage bags that were heaped head high along the street. The naked infected we just ignored.

The swap was likewise unremarkable. The directore was sweating, but that might have only been the fact that I’d ordered full Quick Reaction Team kit for the job. I used Muller to carry the locked Haliburton case with the lance head inside, so the Municipali at the meet got a good look at his hulking size. We’d had to order special body armor for him—they just didn’t have troll-sized kit on the shelf. Of course, Boivin and several others were covering us. We’re limited to individual small arms, but the Gendarmerie aren’t, so I’d borrowed a couple of their automatic weapons gunners.