NationStates Jolt Archive

Sixtus VI, the Bishop of Rome and Vicar of Jesus Christ, Successor of St. Peter, Prince of the Apostles, Supreme Pontiff of The Universal Church, Patriarch of The West, Primate of Italy, Archbishop and Metropolitan of the Roman Province, and Sovereign of Vatican City State, was under constant monitoring through sensors in the gel mattress that had replaced his regular bed. A matter of some weeks ago, after a long bout of uncertain health, a final diagnosis of inoperable, fatal cancer had been privately confirmed by Vatican physicians and specialists.

The Pope had accepted the diagnosis cheerfully, even eagerly, for his long tenure in Peter’s Seat had taken a considerable toll. For many years, he had conscientiously guided the Church her between the looming shoals of modernism and anti-modernism, evangelism and ecumenicism, addressing controversial issues delicately and as a last resort, while expanding the Church’s steadying moral influence through social and humanitarian leadership. Although a less assertive and charismatic personality than his predecessor, John Paul II, he was much beloved.

However, the recent years of steadily declining health had limited his capacity to care for the Church as he would have liked. Keenly aware of the political dangers of delegating too much power to the Curia, he had preferred to allow many matters to rest in abeyance, rather than risk the creation of factions and political tensions that could disturb the delicate balance of the Church in an increasingly complex, chaotic world.

As a consequence, many nations had been without a Nuncio for some time. Others, more recently established, had not even had Nunciatures established at all. Some diocese had assumed more and more internal control, slowly losing touch with Rome altogether. Ad liminal visits had lapsed. Some communities of the Faithful had become entirely cut off from the Church. Sixtus had done what he could to remedy the matter, but with less and less physical stamina, he had been unable to stem the tide. And the most powerful Curial Cardinals, politely at war with one another, contrived to render each other comparatively ineffective in remedying even what problems they could have legitimately addressed.

Conscious of a profound regret for these lapses, when he had received the final diagnosis Sixtus had taken the single most effective step he could contrive to provide for a worthy successor and ensure that he had resources to address the problems. He had created thirty-one new Cardinals, selecting them both from lists recommended by his principal counselors, and from among the Bishops and Archbishops he had been personally watching for some time. The resulting mixture brought a wide range of viewpoints, skills, and backgrounds into the Church’s leadership. He hoped it would be enough.

On the day after the final Consistory at which the Cardinals had been created, he slept fitfully, and accepted the pain medications that Doctor Mirelli had urged on him. The public appearances and the physical strain of the preceding days had taxed him to the utmost.

In the early morning, at 4:00 a.m., the sensors had shown his valet, Tito Mrenski, that the Pontiff was awake. He had approached the bedside to find the Holy Father’s eyes open, looking about restlessly. “Father Palejski, Tito. Fetch Father Palejski.”

Father Ysidor Palejski, a Franciscan priest, was Sixtus’ confessor. Although the Pontiff had been Anointed some months ago, when a bout of pneumonia had threatened his life, he had been seeing his confessor almost daily, and Palejski had a room just down the hall. Mrenski nodded, and pressed a button on the console next to the bed that alerted the priest.

It was only a matter of moments before Palejski appeared in the doorway, looking anxiously at the bed. Sixtus gestured weakly to him, and he approached the bed as Mrenski closed the door behind himself. About 20 minutes later, he left, with a look of infinite sadness on his normally round, cheerful countenance. Mrenski looked up, with the helpless hopelessness that had tormented him since he had learned of the fatal diagnosis. Upon seeing the priest’s expression, he buried his face in his hands.

The Pope’s vital signs continued slow and weak. Just before 11:00 a.m., he requested pain medication, and slipped into a doze. Waking midafternoon, he sent for his private Secretary, Monsignor Harcourt Verelst, and dictated a couple of letters, in a weak voice, pausing frequently. Verelst tried to convince him to wait, but he said “No, no, my dear friend. These must go. They will be the last.”

“Holy Father…” Normally impassive and reserved, the Secretary’s voice caught and roughened.

Sixtus smiled gently at him. “We have said our goodbyes, Harcourt. And I am tired. So very tired.”

Wordlessly, Verelst nodded, and left, just as Doctor Mirelli arrived to monitor his patient. When the doctor emerged, his face, too, was grave. “It was not a good idea, for the Holy Father to exert himself so, at the Consistories…” he sighed, for he knew perfectly well that no one could have prevented the Pope from doing what he saw as his duty.

Sixtus ate no dinner. He requested a little water. The medicine left his throat dry. Another dose of pain medication, and he again dozed off.

Tito Mrenski, who had napped briefly during the afternoon, was again awake and moving about in the adjacent room where the physical monitoring displays were, shortly after midnight. A change in the quality of the soft symphony of ‘beeps’ and ‘ticks’ alerted him. He looked at the displays. He was no doctor, but they had not been like this before. He pressed the button that summoned Doctor Mirelli.

The Doctor was fully dressed and arrived at once. He took one look at the displays, then went into the Pope’s bedroom. A minute or two later, he emerged, shaking his head.

“Coma. The Holy Father will not awaken. Send for Cardinal Gambini.”

Early the next morning, Vatican Radio and TV carried the news, in a special announcement by Cardinal Johannes Meisner, President of the Vatican’s Office of Communications.

“We deeply regret to inform the Faithful that our beloved Holy Father, Sixtus VI, has lapsed into a coma. The Holy Father was recently diagnosed with inoperable cancer, and has been spending the past weeks preparing for the Church’s transition to new leadership, including creating thirty-one new Cardinals in a ceremony that took place only days ago.

“The Holy Father’s reign has been long and wise, during a time of great change and turmoil in the world. His steady leadership has done much to maintain the Church’s ability to serve the Faithful.

“We would ask all of the Faithful to pray for the Holy Father. We will provide regular communications on the Pope’s condition.

(OOC: For those who would like to participate in the upcoming Conclave for the selection of a new Pope, please read this thread carefully:

http://www.nationstates.net/forum/viewtopic.php?p=2849325#2849325

It's long, but worthwhile.)

Apon hearing the news Lehman bowed his head and said "He will be missed by all, I am no exeption." He then held a moment of scilence for the Pope

This is truly a sad day for us all. Their eminences, Cardinals T'sor'cha and Pell will be going to Rome, along with His Eminence Patriarch and Cardinal Frazier.

I regret to say that these are, currently, the only Cardinals of voting age in the Most Holy Principality.

May his Holiness's spirit be welcomed into heaven. Amen.


http://groups.msn.com/_Secure/0UQDPAiAZYBERZx1ouR9O0mCy26CNTx2aU1df8h*Bzg5aHFqFd*nTTJOha2VkMi9T08C4eXnxClHfk9CWOsOLVep6Md9Z4*f4QOS 6cIbwp6AKGl2CXoqCXfRFz1OoCQo3/Abbot%20Ver'chan.jpg?dc=4675460712692131026
Minister for Spiritual Matters, Abbot Ver'Chan
Aide to Patriarch Frasier
Change is the one great evil I strive against.
The Most Holy Principality of Roania

OOC: almost all your cardinals are under 65 or over 80 exept for 2!?!?!?! Well, could happen.

OOC: Lots of my cardinals got shot during the civil war. And a few of them are still hiding somewhere.

I have only 5 now, down from a height of about 20.

OOC:We are sorry for your loss. Also what is left to do until HVS posts again?

Jeruselem Goverment news

Sixtus VI dying Day of prayer declared

Pope Sixtus VI is dying from a long-term illness today. The Jeruselem Catholic Church has declared a day of prayer today for Catholics and urged employers compassion for their Catholic employees to attend Church today. Cardinal Augustus Brown speaking from Rome gave a speech on local and DotF TV about this occasion as well as fielding questions from the press. When asked about making a run for Papal post, he answered "When time is right and when God calls me to do so.".

The Cathedral of Jerusalem was opened today for special services and will be open to worshippers for the rest of the week.

OOC

Corrected.

Wait just a minute, who said he actually died yet, he's dieing, yes but not dead yet unless I'm mistaken.

Hilario Ximenes is in tears as he phones home. From the indescribable joy of seeing Rome for the first time and then being elevated to the rank of Cardinal, to the low of this tragic news.

"Bapak Mangun, the Holy Father has lapsed into a coma."

F.X. Mangunvijaya, coordinator of the Tanah Burung Conference fo Catholic Bishops, is silent for a full minute. "Pray for him, Hilario. Our prayers are all we can offer him now. And speak with your fellow Cardinals. If the worst should happen, the needs of the Universal Church will call on all the wisdom that all of you can offer."

Throughout Tanah Burung, without it being planned, people begin to gather at their local churches, carrying flowers and pictures of the dying Pope. Most of them are from the two-thirds of citizens who are declared Catholics, but many also come from the minority faiths. Even among them, there is affection for Sixtus. Gathering in the churches, they pray the rosary and sing their hopes for the life of the Pope.

Does he have nine days to live? Mangunvijaya wonders. There's no way to say. But the people will want nothing less than a novena.

Throughout the country, people took up the prayer, the novena for impossible requests:

Virgin of the Incarnation,
a thousand times we greet thee,
a thousand times we praise thee
for thy joy when God was incarnated in thee.
Because thou art so powerful
a Virgin and Mother of God,
grant what we ask of thee for the love of God.
Grant life and recovery to our Pope Sixtus.

Augustus Fane, Cardinal of Proxima Centauri, waits patiently in his rooms at the Vatican, delaying for the moment returning to Valinon. A knock comes at his door.
"Please come in," Fane says in his quite voice.
Viktor Rhienhold opens the door, the garb of a Cardinal still looks new on him, indicitive of his recent elevation.
"Please, Viktor, take a seat," says Fane, gesturing to a chair on the opposite of the low table with its tea service.
"Thank you," says Rhienhold.
Polite banter is made as Fane pours the tea himself, the smell of orange and spice fills the room.
"I trust that you have heard the news?"
"Yes. God help the Holy Father now more than ever," says Rhienhold, sitting his glass down. "The entirety of the Fatherland holds its breath now. His Majesty has even requested that the Diet declare a recess for the next few days in respect."
Fane nods grimly.
"His Majesty has also made another 'request'," Fane says. "And I have consulted with the others on it, now I turn to you, Viktor. Perhaps your younger eyes can help me see the course we should take...."
"I will try my best," says Viktor, stopping himself from saying Your Emenience as he would have until just a few days ago.
"His Majesty has asked that we volunteer the services of our own medical staff at the embassy. Initially I said it would be best if we allowed this matter to proceed on its own. However, you know how insistant Emperor Rowald can be."
Rhienhold nods in agreement.
"Normally I could rely on the distance between Sol and Alpha Centauri to lend me some aid in this situation. But His Majesty is making a journey to Earth in order to oversee the final reopening of the treaty ports of Armandur and Boralis. Things are different here on Earth, Viktor, I have no clue how the various factions here will react if we become involved this much. Or what their reactions may be to subjecting the Holy Father to our own medical treatments, the current schism between the Church and the Imperial University would not help matters either. Plus I hate to build false hopes. From what I have been able to learn, the cancer is in its final stages, and it is quite possible that it is beyond the abilities of our own medical establishment to treat as well. I face a difficult decision as you can see, and I need your counsel, Viktor."
Rhienhold looks soberly into his tea cup processing the information. He takes a deep breath.
"Indeed it is a difficult decision...very difficult indeed. Perhaps we should at least make the offer discreetly, but make no promises. It would be wrong of us not to offer our assistance in this most grevious hour. However, let it be out of our hands in regard to the final decisions. If they accept, so be it, but if not we should not press the matter," Rhienhold finishes, hoping he has said what is the right course.
Fane nods, his gaze drifting to the window.
"You are in accordance with Dorlin, Relond, and Winston. Mithan remains skeptical, but he approves of at least making the offer, and I am inclined to follow that path as well. Thank you, Viktor, you have helped more than you realize. If you will excuse me, I will make arrangements to contact the....appropriate parties."
Viktor rises, and leaves the older Cardinal. Fane looks down at the tea cup, his own reflection parodied in the cooling depths of the tea.
He sets the cup back on its saucer and stands, moving to do what he must to make sure Emperor Rowald's offer is made.

OOC: Accepting or not does not bother me, but if you do decide to accept I will stick by the fact that this is probably to advance for Valinor medical science. Most of our answer to cancer is the prolong and gene bath treatments, and still our most effective method is to catch cancer in its early stages.

The first Effrenati Cardinal in more than a hundred years, Nikos Threehorn appeared on the Coordinated Networks link that same day, relaying the tragic news. He repeated the request for the prayers of the Faithful, as well.

The government of Effrenata sent official expressions of concern and good wishes, and all of the Catholic Churches remained open in a 24-hour vigil as Catholics flocked in to pray for the Holy Father.

Later that day, Threehorn conferred via Cbox with the senior Bishops of the Effrenati Bishops Conference. Archbishop Halnor was adamant that he remain in Rome, even though the Conclave could not convene until after all of the funeral Masses for the Pope's soul.

"Listen, Nikos, you will need to learn as much as you can about the Cardinals most likely to be elected. We have been out of touch. We hear much about Hume, and about Esteban, although he is too old, I believe. Without discussing any of them as a successor (which of course would not be proper yet,) you must take every opportunity to observe them and learn about them. Which one will best serve the Church? We are relying on your judgement."

The brand-new Cardinal Threehorn was more than a little nervous at such a responsibility coming so quickly after his investiture as Cardinal, but he knew Archbishop Halnor was right.

He'd learned a lot already, just from being here for the Consistory. Everyone loved Cardinal Esteban, but he was old, and could the Church survive more declining years?

He was personally very impressed with Cardinal di Corneliano, who seemed to have true zeal for extending the Church and bringing more people into the Catholic fold. That appealed to his own missionary eagerness, his constant awareness of the many Maccadol tribes still following the traditional pantheistic Marenkali faith. And di Corneliano seemed to have a kind of charisma and energy that would be very beneficial to the Church.

Still, he been impressed with others, too, especially after learning more about them. Some had suffered for the Faith in a way he could only hope to be worthy of, some day. And some, like Gambini, seemed to have outstanding skills and abilities, political intelligence and wit that would help the Holy Church even as the future seemed to explode before it.

He had been reading the newspapers and newsletters, studying the documents and products of the various offices these Cardinals led. But there was a lot more to know, he was sure.

How could anyone replace the Holy Father?

Above all, Nikos would pray. Several hours a day, in St. Peters.

Guido Gambini felt like tearing his already-scanty hair. Even with the help of the Sostituto, and the entire staff of the national affairs office, he was having trouble keeping up with the expressions of concern and good will pouring in, and responding appropriately. That, and receiving the hourly bulletins ("no change") from the physicians monitoring Sixtus' condition, and maintaining the ordinary and manifold duties of the Secretariat...

Still, no one could have told that from outside the office. Everything functioned smoothly.

When the Valinor offer came in, he immediately consulted with Doctor Mirelli.

"What do you think?" he asked.

Mirelli considered. "Their medicine may certainly hold techniques that we don't yet know of."

Gambini nodded. Time. Time was the thing. He could use every single day. So much to prepare, so much to do. And so many Cardinals to talk to, or have others talk to. He must take the temperature of the coming Conclave, determine the directions of the winds. See where the opportunities existed to exert discreet leverage that would keep the Church from going off in some half-baked direction...

With all the new Cardinals, many of them men he'd never even heard of before they arrived in Rome, it would take time. He had his people at the national desks diligently gathering research, acquiring copies of Bishops' Conferences proceedings, papers, pastoral letters, anything that could offer a clue to the outlooks and past actions of his new colleagues, but it would take time. If the Valinor physicians could even buy him a few more days...

"Is it possible they could cure the Holy Father?" he asked, anxiously.

Doctor Mirelli looked doubtful. "The cancer metastasized so quickly, Eminence. It's no longer localized, it affects virtually every major system and organ, now. Dozens of large cancers, hundreds of smaller ones. They are slowly shutting down his physical systems..."

He tried to smile. "I am a good Catholic, I know that miracles can happen... and I pray for a miracle here. But as a physician? I think it would take a miracle, and a fantastic one."

"Well, perhaps they can keep him going...?"

Mirelli frowned. "That is certainly possible. In fact, we could do that, by introducing extraordinary measures. But the Holy Father left the most strict instructions against such a contingency. He wanted no extraordinary measures. I would not go against his wishes, Eminence."

Gambini sighed. "You're right, of course, Doctor. Still, it can do no harm to let them examine him, yes?"

Mirelli nodded. "Of course, Eminence. We can all hope for a miracle."

When the doctor left, Gambini had his secretary contact the Valinor Cardinals and put them in touch with the physicians.

As Sixtus VI passes away, Catholics in Valeria began to cry out in fear, for they believe that a grand pope is to be welcome to his place in Heaven. Catholics of all backgrounds flocked to churches and mighty cathedrals to pray for Sixtus VI. However, a vast majority of the population in the nation seemed apathetic or even slightly glad. These were the Orthodox Christians in Valeria, that make up the majority of the population. Emperor Alexander was, too, an Orthodox, and he sent a very blunt and pompous letter to the Vatican.

"Greetings. A leader dying is always touching, but I really don't care about Sixtus IV's death. A Catholic heretic, at best... out Archbishop Alexei III is the real beacon of Christian religion in the Valerian World.

Err.. ah yes. I'll allow the Catholics in my nation (Austrians and Hungarians and whatnot) to send a Cardinal for the upcoming Conclave. He'll be... Béla Horthy, I believe. I don't know why he's so popular among the Catholics. That you may know."

Cardinal Béla Horthy, along with several of his supporters and fellow clerics boarded a steamship in Bélagrad. The entourage was headed for the Vatican, and would be there in a day or two. Béla, unbeknownst to Alexander I, is popular among the Catholics because he has the reputation of being so extroverted and caring for people other than himself. It is evident in the scar tissue on the right side of his face.

Within a short period of time, Béla arrived in the Vatican, hoping to see anyone awaiting his arrival. His youthful-looking hands were clasped in silent prayer, in hopes that Sixtus VI would be saved somehow. Yet, in his heart, he knew that God was calling Sixtus VI home, and it was not likely that the Holy Father will survive.

Lehman sat with his brother in St. Peter's Square. "I don't know how I can stand it just sitting around in perfect health whil a man I idolize slowly dies."

"It must be hard for you brother, you have been through a lot latley. If it halps you any you are not in perfect health." he said with a smile.

"You're begging for me to cane you."

"I'm 55 years old, you wouldn't dare."

"I know. Sometimes i worry I will wake up in my bed to the sound of horrible music relizing this was all just a dream."

"Its that good huh."

"Probably the greatest month of my life." Lehmans younger brother then left leaving Lehman to stare at the Obelisk. Finally he got up and walked back to his room.

Cardinal Fane watches as the Windjammer comes to a halt at the aerospace port. He hides a grimace, just recently the names of the physicans were sent to him, and the name of the lead physican has caused him much personal tribulations.
Doctors Norman Brodwell and Gunther Davont are noted physicans who have been on Earth for sometime, testing the medical tools of the Valinor on the still mostly untamed field of Earth. Davont is Catholic and Brodwell is an Valinor Anglican, which Fane does not believe will be too much a problem. But it is the leader of the trio that disturbs him, and he watches as he disembarks from the Windjammer.
Aramoro Kaede looks into the blue skies, and a hand covers his eyes. The man is from Old Japanese ethnic extract, marking him as a citizen from the former Dominion of Outer Centauri territories on Prometheus or Proxima III. The Dominion has been over half a century dead, but it has left a legacy to the Valinor. The Taoist religion that survived the Outer Dominion Wars is not nearly as fanatical as those that drove the feudal lords and warriors of the Dominion, but it is still no less strange. Kaede's left cheek is marked with an eerie electric blue tatoo of a dragon's head. The tail spins down and up around his ear, around his neck, and down under the collar of his suit. No one can doubt that the former Dominion physicians are masters of the biological sciences, anf there knowledge fused with Valinor technology has given the Empire several breakthroughs over the years, but Fane prays that Kaede's somewhat bizarre and unparalled religion does not cause too much of a problem. He mentally curses the person who did not think of telling this before hand.
Aramoro Kaede approaches Fane.
"Your Emenience," says the physician with a slight bow. His speech is accented with the flowing way that former Dominion citizens all speak.
"Dr. Kaede," Fane says. "Please, let us make posthaste to the Vatican," Fane gestures to a ground car provided by the Valinor embassy. "The rest of your equipment will be brought as soon as possible. I trust you have all the basic essentials you will need to begin your diagnosis with you?"
"Yes, Your Emenience," says Kaede. "Between the three of us we manage to divide the load well."
He says with vague gestures to Brodwel and Davont.
"Good," says Fane, and he rapidly ushers them into the car. Mentally praying once again that he will not have further complications added to this already tedious situation.

OOC

According to the prophecies of St Malachy, Sixtus VI would have been " Gloria olivae ", the 111th Pope.

The last ever Pope is Petrus Romanus. but the prophecies don't say there aren't any Popes in between either.

In persecutione extrema S.R.E. sedebit Petrus Romanus, qui pascet oues in multis tribulationibus: quibus transactis ciuitas septicollis diruetur, & Iudex tremêdus iudicabit populum suum. Finis.
(In extreme persecution, the seat of the Holy Roman Church will be occupied by Peter the Roman, who will feed the sheep through many tribulations, at the term of which the city of seven hills will be destroyed, and the formidable Judge will judge his people. The End.)

http://www.catholic-pages.com/grabbag/malachy.asp

OOC

According to the prophecies of St Malachy, Sixtus VI would have been " Gloria olivae ", the 111th Pope.

The last ever Pope is Petrus Romanus. but the prophecies don't say there aren't any Popes in between either.

In persecutione extrema S.R.E. sedebit Petrus Romanus, qui pascet oues in multis tribulationibus: quibus transactis ciuitas septicollis diruetur, & Iudex tremêdus iudicabit populum suum. Finis.
(In extreme persecution, the seat of the Holy Roman Church will be occupied by Peter the Roman, who will feed the sheep through many tribulations, at the term of which the city of seven hills will be destroyed, and the formidable Judge will judge his people. The End.)

http://www.catholic-pages.com/grabbag/malachy.asp

I'm afraid I see no relevence unless I missed something someone posted.

OOC

According to the prophecies of St Malachy, Sixtus VI would have been " Gloria olivae ", the 111th Pope.

The last ever Pope is Petrus Romanus. but the prophecies don't say there aren't any Popes in between either.

In persecutione extrema S.R.E. sedebit Petrus Romanus, qui pascet oues in multis tribulationibus: quibus transactis ciuitas septicollis diruetur, & Iudex tremêdus iudicabit populum suum. Finis.
(In extreme persecution, the seat of the Holy Roman Church will be occupied by Peter the Roman, who will feed the sheep through many tribulations, at the term of which the city of seven hills will be destroyed, and the formidable Judge will judge his people. The End.)

http://www.catholic-pages.com/grabbag/malachy.asp

I'm afraid I see no relevence unless I missed something someone posted.

Father Martin Stone was waiting to greet Cardinal Horthy, and took him straight to St. Martha's Hostel. His bulletin about the Holy Father was not encouraging--no change.

Still, Rome was extraordinarily beautiful, with clear sunshine and mild weather, and even the ancient, pollution-stained stones of her Imperial monuments seemed to glow. The great Dome of St. Peter's was dazzlingly beautiful.

Father Stone enquired politely after the state of the Church in Magnus Valerius. "We are so pleased to know that you and your bishops have been able to keep Holy Church's light burning. Are the Faithful well, and increasing?"

Doctor Mirelli and Monsignor Verelst were waiting to greet the Valinor physicians after they had been passed through Security in the Apostolic Palace. They noticed Dr. Kaede's tattoo almost incidentally, so focused are they on the tiny, wasted figure in the gel bed.

The monitoring units show the slow cycles of comatose function, reduced in magnitude and frequency, the EEG showing only occasional shallow delta activity.

Dr. Mirelli has all the case log ready on a screen, showing the various diagnostic procedure results, pathology reports, the daily monitoring results. The picture of rapid and extensive metastasization is clear, and also clear today is that the Holy Father's renal function is all but shut down, and toxins are accumulating that will soon overwhelm the barely-functioning liver.

The valet, Tito Mrenski, hovers, making himself useful and bringing coffee as needed.

OOC

...

http://www.catholic-pages.com/grabbag/malachy.asp

I'm afraid I see no relevence unless I missed something someone posted.

OOC

Just for some intrigue with this RP. Maybe some clues about Petrus Romanus

IC

Cardinal Augustus Brown was in his room. He was worried about the future as Saint Malachy had predicted the 112 popes of his time and into the future. Pope John Paul II was the 110, Sixtus VI was 111th, but was the 112 and the last?

Peter of Rome, Petrus Romanus, was to be last? It was a worrying time as Sixtus VI lay on the last days of his life and a time of tribulation was to come. The time of the last Catholic Pope in Rome?

Doctor Mirelli and Monsignor Verelst were waiting to greet the Valinor physicians after they had been passed through Security in the Apostolic Palace. They noticed Dr. Kaede's tattoo almost incidentally, so focused are they on the tiny, wasted figure in the gel bed.

The monitoring units show the slow cycles of comatose function, reduced in magnitude and frequency, the EEG showing only occasional shallow delta activity.

Dr. Mirelli has all the case log ready on a screen, showing the various diagnostic procedure results, pathology reports, the daily monitoring results. The picture of rapid and extensive metastasization is clear, and also clear today is that the Holy Father's renal function is all but shut down, and toxins are accumulating that will soon overwhelm the barely-functioning liver.

The valet, Tito Mrenski, hovers, making himself useful and bringing coffee as needed.

Kaede, Brodwell, and Davont carefully study the information presented to them, reviewing every facet of the Holy Father's condition for hours on end. They consult with each other, snipets are overheard, but it is clear that even their reaction is not an overwhelmingly positive one. Kaede approaches Mirelli.
"Doctor, after reviewing the situation I must be perfectly frank-even with the best facilities of Valinon on Proxima Centauri I do not think we could stave this case of completely. My colleagues and I can buy you time. We estimate five to eight days. What I would like to do is prepare three crash nanophages. One to try and stop the cancer's spread for awhile at least, and at the very least slow it. The second would break down toxins and remove the building pressure on the liver functions. The third 'phage would be a smaller group designed to lay inert and would be used as a fall back in case either of the other two fail, or a new problem arises. Also, I want to use a direct insert method in the most severely affected areas designed to release a concentrate syn-bio catalysts to dry and break down some of the larger tumors. But as I have said this will be at best stealing time from the inevitable. Does this meet with your approval?"

...Also, I want to use a direct insert method in the most severely affected areas designed to release a concentrate syn-bio catalysts to dry and break down some of the larger tumors. But as I have said this will be at best stealing time from the inevitable. Does this meet with your approval?"

Mirelli looks troubled. "These are wonderful things that you propose, Doctors, and I must admit that I would very much like to learn these techniques. They can probably save many lives, even if they cannot save the Holy Father."

"My dilemma is this-- the Holy Father left specific instructions that he wished us to apply 'no extraordinary measures' to prolong his life. Does what you are proposing qualify as an extraordinary measure?"

He bit his lip, thinking hard. "I do not know if I should make this decision alone. I would like to ask some of the Cardinal Counselors, but I think that is just my own fear of taking the responsibility. And as a physician, I am the one most qualified to make this decision. But your opinions would be valuable to me. Given the Holy Father's specific instructions, what would you do?"

Jeruselem Government News

Jeruselem Churches record peak attendances

With the Roman Catholic Pope Sixtus VI still alive but barely hanging on to his last days, Catholics have been flocking to churches for prayers. It has been recorded priests have been booking in overtime to cover for extra hours to cover the higher than expected workload.

In a sign of high tension about the Pope's health, two Mormons were beaten up by Catholics after one insulted the Pope with some rude remarks. Some Catholic employers have shut down business for week.

The Grand Mufti of Jerusalem has asked all Moslems not to annoy Catholics by ridiculing the memories of the dying Pope.

...Also, I want to use a direct insert method in the most severely affected areas designed to release a concentrate syn-bio catalysts to dry and break down some of the larger tumors. But as I have said this will be at best stealing time from the inevitable. Does this meet with your approval?"

Mirelli looks troubled. "These are wonderful things that you propose, Doctors, and I must admit that I would very much like to learn these techniques. They can probably save many lives, even if they cannot save the Holy Father."

"My dilemma is this-- the Holy Father left specific instructions that he wished us to apply 'no extraordinary measures' to prolong his life. Does what you are proposing qualify as an extraordinary measure?"

He bit his lip, thinking hard. "I do not know if I should make this decision alone. I would like to ask some of the Cardinal Counselors, but I think that is just my own fear of taking the responsibility. And as a physician, I am the one most qualified to make this decision. But your opinions would be valuable to me. Given the Holy Father's specific instructions, what would you do?"

Kaede sighs, "Definitions of extraordinary measures differ from place to place, Doctor. In Valinon these measures would not be considered extraordinary, they would be considered the necessity in order to buy the person sometime to put his final affairs in order. However, cancer in Valinon is generally a mute question with the prolong treatments and the gene baths to keep cells from malfunctioning. But as I have said our definition of extraordinary measures and your definition may differ radically."
He looks at the figure lying prone on the gel bed, "As a physician I would recommend strongly going ahead with the procedures. And as for myself personally, I would consider it non-extraordinary for in the end, Doctor, we are buying time, not curing the situation. I can scale back the 'phages to just two, one for toxin breakdown and the other to try and forestall the immediate spread of the cancer, but that will mean that we will lose time. And at this time I, like you, am relatively unsure how to act. I think that the Counselors would be the best equipped to make the final decision. If necessary I can present my case to them as well, but we must act quickly, Doctor. Otherwise the time we can buy will take a higher and higher price."

**double post. sorry**

James Cardinal McCormack, Archbishop of Ladovy Hokej and Metropolitan of Her Provinces, was still in Rome following the Consistory.

News flooded his phone lines and email inbox; messages from his friends in the Vatican were coming in at a very quick rate. It was hard to dicern which communications were rumors and which were truth.

One of the snipets tho, intrigued him. Saint Malachy. A theme which seemed to be popping up in a few of the emails. Jim sat down and began to do some research.

"Wow." He thought, "I'm going to be part of what might be the last papal conclave...ever..."

Lehman pondered this news he heard of "the last conclave ever" he decided to dismiss it but before he did he called up the Cardinal from Jeruselem and asked him if he knew much about it.

Lehman pondered this news he heard of "the last conclave ever" he decided to dismiss it but before he did he called up the Cardinal from Jeruselem and asked him if he knew much about it.

Doctor Mirelli nodded. "If it is merely a question of keeping the Holy Father comfortable, making the transition less traumatic, this treatment would not necessarily be contraindicated. And I certainly do understand the need to act quickly. In fact..." he glanced at the monitors, where a minute change indicated that hepatic function was further eroding, "the question now is whether the Holy Father is sufficiently stable to even benefit from these treatments. However, I think we should try."

He turned to Tito Mrenski, who had become quite a competent nurse in the past months, and understood at least the mechanics of the monitoring equipment and other devices. "Mrenski, assist the Doctors, please, while I discuss the matter with Cardinal Gambini and Cardinal di Corneliano."

The valet nodded. "Ja, Doctor." He stepped to one side, out of the way, and waited alertly, watching the Valinor physicians closely.

Even as Dr. Mirelli went into the next room, the monitors indicated a drop in ventral efficiency in the cardiac rhythm.

OOC: how long are you going to keep Lehman waiting Jeruselem? :lol:

Lehman pondered this news he heard of "the last conclave ever" he decided to dismiss it but before he did he called up the Cardinal from Jeruselem and asked him if he knew much about it.

Brown picked up the phone and wondered who it was.

"Cardinal Lehman of Largent? Well, this is an unexpected call. What is the matter? .... About St Malachy's prophecies and the last Pope. I don't want to be scare-monger among us but Malachy has been right about all the Pope until now. Sixtus VI should be Gloria olivae, his successor is Petrus Romanus who will the last Pontiff according to Malachy. I pray to God Malachy is wrong, but future destruction of Rome does not look possible at the moment but we are still to fight the 3rd Anti-Christ. God will win but men will die and maybe even Rome will fall forever. However, maybe after the fall of the Anti-Christ, the new Pontiff will start a Roman Catholic somewhere else and start the new era of peace on another nation. Maybe this is God's plan for Age of Aquarius and death of the Age of Pices."

While he was on the phone to the Camerlengo's office and the Secretariat, Doctors Pavioli and Sterzinsky arrived. They were interested in learning more about Valinon medical procedures, but even as they entered the room, one of the monitors chimed softly but insistently.

"Doctors...!" Mrenski pointed. It was the ERI, the encephalic resonance imager, that was tracking Sixtus' brain function on various levels. The needle of the EEG, printing out the results, began to fluctuate and tremble. The Pope's brain activity, which until now had been limited to the deep, slow delta function of coma, was suddenly wildly active.

As if the first monitor's warning had been a cue, other monitors' alert tones began to sound. Heart rate fluctuating, then dropping. Blood pressure falling off. Renal function flatlined, hepatic function flatlined, pulmonary function fluctuating erratically, then flatlining.

By now the brain activity was gone. A few more flutters from the cardiac monitor, then it, too, flatlined.

Sterzinsky stepped almost instinctively toward the bed, but it had been at the Pope's own command, some weeks ago, that the defibrillator and other resuscitation equipment had been removed. He looked around, helplessly, then bowed his head, hiding his face in his hands.

Mrenski, the tears pouring down his face unashamedly, was holding a lifeless hand and murmuring prayers.

Pavioli looked at the doctors from Valinon, noting the strange tattoo on the one, but not really seeing it. "It is fortunate you are here, gentlemen. We must have at least one of your signatures on the certificate, as there must be at least one signature of a physician who was not attending His Holiness." His voice was dry, spare, concealing any emotion he might have felt.

Mirelli, who knew well what the monitors had portended, had switched topics in mid-call to the Camerlengo. Di Corneliano was on his way to the Papal apartments. Upon receiving formal certification of the Pontiff's death, he would have to notify the Secretary of State, and begin the rituals of the Vacant See.

From somewhere, Monsignor Verelst had appeared, and he was kneeling by the side of the gel bed, already in prayer.

(OOC: We're ba-aack! More later... BTW, the Malachy prophecies have about the same credibility in the Curia as the Shroud of Turin. Few, if any, well-educated clerics of any rank in the Church give them credence, although the 'who knows? Could be...' faction does exist.)

OOC: My apologies, HVS, for not posting. And I hope I can be forgiven for delaying the plot continium.

Kaede, Davont, and Brodwell had all joined in the instinctive flow to the bed, only to be left standing in a state of powerless shock as they watched the monitors flatline and the toneless sound that means only one thing fills the solemn air of the room.
Davont is breathless, his hand moving unknowingly to the rosary around his neck as he slides down onto his knees. Brodwell turns his head respectfully away from Sixtus body, and steps back toward the door, but does not exit.
Kaede mummers a few words that can barely be understood.
"Such it ends, such the laylines flow, and such the balance is restored," he looks up to Pavioli, his face composed, but with a vague look of some regret in his eyes.
"Doctor, I am sorry we did not arrive in time. Please accept my condolences, and I will assist you personally with matters pertaining to the certificate to the best of my abilities. I may not be of your faith, Doctor Pavioli, but I know that the loss of this man is a great blow to us all, for he did much with his life. And the universe is a little bit more empty for losing him."

Sixtus VI was dead. With a small sound that might have been a grunt, or a sigh, Doctor Pavioli reached over and muted the monitoring equipment, so that only the straight lines still flowing across the screens indicated that the equipment was still connected and operational.

Doctor Sterzinsky cleared his throat, and put a hand on Monsignor Verelst’s shoulder. “Please, Excellency… we must perform the final examination.”

Verelst nodded, and rose to his feet. “Grazie, Doctor. I will inform the embalmers.”

Mrenski, the tears still pouring down his face, kissed the slack hand one final time, and, with a glance over his shoulder at the still figure on the bed, left the room.

Doctor Mirelli emerged from the adjacent room. “The Camerlengo is on his way, for the certificate,” he said. In his hand he held the leather folder with the certificate and the other required paperwork.

Solemnly, all six doctors present examined the body formally and scrupulously for signs of life. All six doctors pronounced the Pontiff deceased, and signed both copies of the certificate in each others presence. By the time Doctor Pavioli, the chief physician, thanked the doctors from Valinon, and suggested a later meeting to discuss the Pope’s case and learn more about the new techniques that their brethren might have applied (had there been time,) Cardinal di Corneliano, accompanied by his Secretary, Father Iulio Kwan, and Monsignor Rinaldi, the Master of Ceremonies, had arrived

The three of them approached the bed, knelt briefly and offered a prayer. Then di Corneliano rose, and carefully removed the ring from the slack fingers, handing it to his secretary. He turned to Doctor Pavioli. “The certificate, please, Doctor?”

Wordlessly, he examined both copies, then handed the folder to Monsignor Rinaldi, who likewise scrutinized it, and turned to hand it to Father Kwan. As he did so, they could hear a faint rumbling sound approaching. The other door opened, and Monsignor Verelst entered, standing aside and holding it so that the gurney, wheeled by two solemn-faced men, could enter.

With reverent ceremony and prayers, the body was transferred to the gurney and covered with a white silk pall embroidered with Sixtus’ crest. The embalmers removed Sixtus’ mortal remains, to prepare them for display in St. Peters, to receive the respects of the Faithful. Monsignor Verelst handed over to the Camerlengo Sixtus’ private Seal. Father Kwan went to the curtains that concealed the heavily-armored door leading to the little antechamber of the balcony, and opened it. Inside, a light burned, visible from the balcony and the Square below, to tell the Faithful that the Holy Father was present in the Palace. Only when the Holy Father traveled (as he had not done for years,) was it extinguished. Then, or as now, when there was no Pope. Such a simple gesture, snapping off a light switch. The door was closed and locked. They left the room, and Monsignor Rinaldi applied the seals to the locked doors from the outside.

Before leaving the Camerlengo’s office, Father Kwan had awakened and alerted other members of the Camerlengo’s staff. Even as they returned to the office, dozens of details had been set in motion:

A priest had been sent to the office of the Secretary of State, to take possession of the great Seal of Sixtus’ papacy, and return it to the Camerlengo for destruction.
The Vatican mint had sent a man to each of the City’s souvenir shops, to the Bank, the Post Office, and wherever Sixtus’ medals and coinage were circulated. All was collected, and returned to the Mint, where a priest from the Camerlengo’s office was already supervising the destruction of the dies used in their production. Copied of each medal and coin were retained for placing in the Pope’s coffin, the rest were destroyed.
At the mint, the great presses were already at work striking the new issues—coinage embossed with the words “sede vacante,” and the medals for the Camerlengo and the Governor of the Conclave, validating their authority to conduct the rituals required for the succession of Peter’s authority to a new Pope.
Pasco di Vianello, Comissario of Security, had been awakened as well. He was already in his office, preparing requests for a meeting with Buonamini, reviewing dossiers on known groups who might be tempted to make the Conclave a focus for violence, and revising the list of preparations needed for the Conclave itself, including the multiple electronic sweeps by the Valtestino crews. He also called the Commandante of the Noble Guard, rousing him out of bed, so that the Honor Guard would be ready to receive the body in the Sistine Chapel when the embalmers were done.
Monsignor Rinaldi’s staff were already notifying the Floreria to prepare the Sistine Chapel for the deathwatch the rest of today and tonight, and the Chapel of the Most Holy Sacrament in the Basilica for the public exposure subsequently, until the funeral. Already, the sacristans were on their way to the vestiture to claim the purple veil, the red ermine blanket, and the outer pall embroidered with Sixtus’ coat of arms.
The heralds, already working overtime to produce coats of arms for the thirty-one newly elevated Cardinals, called in yet more temporary staff to manage the blazoning of the canopies and the furnishings for the Conclave.
Cardinal Meisner, President of the Office of Communications, was awakened, his staff was called to duty, and the combined studios were prepared for the announcement di Corneliano would soon be making.

Throughout the Vatican, lights came on, people stirred. Throughout Rome, telephones rang, sleepy clerics and lay staff dressed themselves, and began the mechanics of the Interregnum.

The Consistory was long over, and the Square was again the vast, empty oval of space that looked up to the Vatican’s public face—the outer wall of the Apostolic Palace, and the great façade of St. Peter’s. For days, since the announcement of the Pope’s condition had been made, people had gathered in the Square, praying and looking up at the balcony. When the light went out, a collective groan arose from those gathered. Stringers for hundreds of press services and news agencies, hired to do nothing but simply watch that light, pushed buttons on cell phones and palm communicators. All over Rome, representatives of the media awakened and pushed buttons that sent pre-recorded stories into circulation. By the time di Corneliano stepped in front of the cameras and microphones in the Communications studio, the announcement was old news, the formal confirmation of what millions already knew.

Standing against a black-bordered background, at a lectern fronted with the Camerlengo’s Interregnal Seal, di Corneliano read the announcement, first in Latin, then in Italian, then in English, and a dozen other languages. He ended with a prayer. Later that morning, Meisner would hold a formal press conference, but for now, it was sufficient that the official announcement had been made.

A great many of the Princes of the Church were already resident in the Vatican, having remained after the Consistory. But in far-flung reaches of the Church’s immense community, a few phones rang, and the Cardinals who had not been able to attend the Consistory were summoned to perform the one duty they could not abrogate unless mortally ill, or imprisoned for the Faith.

The ceremonies required to bury the Pope and complete the necessary Masses for his soul would consume nine days. An additional five days would be allowed, under the Constitution, for the Cardinals to gather for the Conclave. For two weeks, the Church would be under the care of the College of Cardinals, which had no power other than to continue the most mundane daily operations of the Vatican itself, and to perform its single most important function: the selection of a new Pope.

(OOC: Please see the ATTN: thread if you are not already participating in these threads, and wish to send a Cardinal to the Conclave. The funeral ceremonies, etc., will take place in this thread, and in a day or two we will start a new thread for the Conclave itself, starting with the gathering of the Cardinals. Please do not post there unless you have already participated in the Consistory thread or studied the ATTN: thread and telegrammed the Holy Vatican See. The ATTN: thread can be found here: http://www.nationstates.net/forum/viewtopic.php?t=121698&start=80 )

In his office, Guido Cardinal Gambini was looking over lists, and lists of lists, working out riddles. Now that Sixtus was dead, his successor was a legitimate topic of discussion. But who? Gambini had no illusions about his popularity—or lack thereof—among his colleagues. He didn’t want to be Pope, in any case. It was a job that demanded things he knew full well he didn’t have. But in that case, who?

Who would, above all, protect the Church? Greedy Catholic monarchs wanted to twist it into a tool to advance their own power and wealth. A regrettable, but predictable, phenomenon. And a useful one. The Church was older by far, and more experienced by far in twisting others to her will, and those most easily twisted were those who wanted something. Who had the political sophistication to navigate those shoals?

Renard? A fanatic. The last thing the Church needed just now. But Renard was popular. Many saw his passion for doctrinal orthodoxy as a way of advancing some agenda of their own, that he allowed them to believe he shared. They’d be in for a nasty shock, though, if he sat in Peter’s seat. And the resulting convulsions would tear Holy Mother Church limb from limb. Disaster!

Who then? Hume? Naïve, far too naïve. One would think that a man who had experienced imprisonment and torture would have a more exquisite appreciation of the evil inherent in human nature. Such an appreciation was utterly necessary to understand and detect possible threats to the Church…

Di Corneliano? The fool would bankrupt the Holy See in a decade or less, sending missionary ships to Menelmacar or some such madness. Looking for converts in all the wrong places, alienating the temporal authorities with outspoken advocacy for the poor and the workers, treating Peter’s Patrimony as so much fuel to drive the Church over the edge of the cliff!

There was Esteban, of course—He’d work, perhaps, but he was too old. An interim solution, at best, and in any case he’d probably refuse it.

Zerba, the Prefect of the Congregation for Variant Churches? Unlikely. Too much distrust of the non-Roman rites, still. And in any case, Zerba, too, was looking forward to retirement in a year or two’s time.

Sales? The blunt-tongued old Portuguese was even less popular than Gambino himself, and too many Bishops had run afoul of the Prefect of the Congregation for Bishops to find the idea of Sales in Peter’s Chair a comfortable one.

Luciani? Martin? Both good men, and Martin in particular had done well with the Congregation for Catholic Education, but… Dull. Uninspired. Good men, conscientious men, but bureaucrats.

(Gambini saw no irony in this meditation. He, the supreme bureaucrat of Church bureaucrats, was well aware of the failings of the bureaucratic temperament.)

Lambertini had the same problem Sales did. The Apostolic Penitentiary was respected, but its head was not loved. Anyway, the feeling seemed to be running against Italians these days. A mistake, in Gambini’s opinion—no one could keep the Curia in line like an Italian born and bred to the Italianate politics of the place, but there you had it. It could not be denied that Italians did not seem terribly popular the last couple of Conclaves.

There was Gordon, of course, but a Scot? And that terrible accent, besides. He wasn’t at all telegenic, and distressingly inclined to speak impulsively—a terribly risky matter for a Pope.

Thiandoum? To self-effacing, and too perilously close to sainthood. Saints were horribly dangerous to the Church’s well-being. Ghattas? Just such another spendthrift as di Corneliano, and doddering besides.

Frustratedly, Gambini tapped his pen on the edge of his lampshade, an irritating habit that made his secretary decide it was a good time to step out and get some lunch.

Ts-Li would get a lot of exposure during the next few weeks, as Major-Domo he would be assisting with every aspect of the funeral, Masses, and Conclave. Perhaps it was time they had an Asian. Tsao-Li was prudent, and far-thinking, moderate and doctrinally conservative without being a fanatic. A nice fellow, too. But—Chinese. Would it be regarded as some kind of political statement? The Church in China was in a perilous state, and there was still much bad feeling about the Asian Rite attempts.

Angelini? Too old. Meisner? Well, the Germans would like that, but there were far too many German-allied countries that were currently under scrutiny for aberrant practices for it to be a wise choice overall.

Who then? Was there anyone who really cared about the Church the way he did?

It never occurred to Gambini to consider the many non-Curial Cardinals, even those who had some Curial experience. He was too much a creature of the Curia, bone-bred, to imagine competence elsewhere, in spite of the examples of Karol Wojtyla and Erval Mralina.

What was left, then?

He stopped pencil-tapping and sat back in his chair, staring at a spot on the opposite wall. Perhaps that was it… The idea began to grow, and with it, the lines on his forehead smoothed a little. Perhaps, indeed, that was it…

Briskly, he sat up again, and reached for the phone.

In the Museum of Rome ...

Cardinal Augustus Brown was examining some Roman art from the age of Imperial Rome. A courier appeared from nowhere and handed him a message using the Papal standard. He thought "I know what this is going to say" while opening the seal. His guards looked on impassively.

Emotionless he read the letter which made official the death of Pope Sixtus VI. He resealed the letter and handed it back with polite "Thank you". His entourage filed out of the Museum and back to the Vatican.

He thought "Would he try for the vacant Pontiff's position or leave it to the Italians? Maybe a Pope from Jerusalem would do good the world even if he was the last one to be driven out of Rome by the anti-Christ".

Lehman mind was boggled, the Pope, dead. He was sad but he imagined the holy father in a better place. It was a sad time indeed. The conclave would not be to far away and he hoped it would be short and efficient without too many greedy cardinals voting for themselves. The white smoke would be produced in due time he decided and went for a walk. Lehman pondered the posible candidates but he knew that the winner would be from Italy so he wouldn't bother voting for anyone else other that Italian candidates.

As he continued he thought of all the press. He hated the thought. He wondered why they would telivise something like this, it wasn't as though they would see anything as long as the Swiss Guard do their job.

Sixtus VI lay exposed in the Basilica, in the Chapel of the Most Holy Sacrament, with candles burning at head and foot, the Noble Guard arrayed behind his bier, and a seemingly endless procession of the Faithful filing past to make the sign of the cross, genuflect, bow their heads briefly, or otherwise pay last respects to the man who had guided the world’s largest Christian church for so many years. The line stayed moving at a decorous pace, with visitors being ushered promptly from the Chapel and debouched into the Basilica’s main nave.

Many stayed to pray in other chapels or churches open to the public. Di Vianello’s men were everywhere, trying to keep an eye on everyone at once. Three officers politely scrutinized those entering the line to pass the Holy Father’s bier, a metal detector and other, more discreet implements were deployed to ensure that the attention paid to the Pontiff’s mortal remains would be seemly and appropriate. He and Buonamini had scrutinized all of the dossiers they had on known terrorists with an anti-Catholic or anti-Papal fixation, organized anti-Catholic group leaders, and known nutcases. Security personnel were fully briefed and supplied with a list, including pictures (if available) and descriptions of potential security risks.

Unfortunately, as many nations had learned before them, the Vatican City could not possibly anticipate every conceivable risk from every source.

There were perhaps a dozen of them. They timed their entrances carefully, and they had been chosen and costumed by a master hand. Middle-aged or older, earnest-looking, undistinguished in every way, their modest-priced off-the-rack clothing was of the sort that could be had at every hyperstore in Italy, and it was well-worn and comfortably-fitting. Their identity papers showed them as retirees, factory workers, shopkeepers from Rome and the suburbs, as well as Milan, Naples, and other cities. Several wore crosses, or carried rosaries. One clutched a framed picture of the Pontiff captioned with a Latin blessing. The security forces paid no notice to the bottles of holy water, apparently purchased from one of the Vatican souvenir shops, that three or four of them carried in pockets or purses.

They arrived from several directions, milled submissively around the security station where the line was forming, and ‘just happened’ to all be in the same stretch of line with perhaps half a dozen others sprinkled among them.

It wasn’t until the first of them was directly in front of the bier that they broke from the line, all at once, rushing together, toward the velvet rope. The ‘holy water’ carriers were already sprinkling the body when the stunned Noble Guard began to move. The leader’s cigarette lighter was lit, and screams of “Anti-Christ!” “Betrayer of the Word!” and “Roast in hell, Beast of Satan!” were ringing through the Chapel, when the Guard rushed them. The ordinary Faithful, stunned and horrified, screamed and milled about, getting in the way.

Carefully tended, Sixtus’ mortal remains were thoroughly infused with highly flammable embalming fluid. The pungent smell of the chemicals that had been in the “holy water” vials filled the air.

It was Hubertus Jacoby, a relatively young and new member of the Guard, who was paying attention, not to the intruders, but to the Pontifical remains, and his slowness to refocus his attention prevented the disaster so clearly and cleverly planned. He saw the hand reach out, with the lighted flame, and touch the corner of the gold-encrusted robes. With a startled gasp, he flung himself forward, literally landing on top of the body, knocking it halfway off the bier, but quenching the flame in the process.

By that time, the Vigilanzi at the doors—not to mention some of the more determined among the true Faithful, had apprehended most of the miscreants, and the others had fled, already being pursued by additional security forces. Eventually all but one would be taken into custody.

The Vatican—and the world—was stunned at the magnitude of the disaster so narrowly averted, and the horror of the desecration of a most holy place and solemn occasion. Calls for the immediate trial and harsh punishment of the Warriors of Jesus, as the would-be arsonists called themselves, rang loudly throughout the day.

In his office, di Corneliano, the Camerlengo, came near tears at the horror and tragedy of the incident. He was meeting with the Major-domo, Cardinal Peter Shan Tsao-Li, the Master of Ceremonies, Monsignor Rinaldi, di Vianello, Buonamini of the Polizei Romano, Commendatore Adrenei of the Noble Guard, and Gambini, who periodically reddened with rage to the point where di Vianello wondered privately if they should have one of the Vatican doctors standing by outside. Cardinal Meisner arrived a few moments late, and on his heels Corrado Gonfalone, an emissary from the Roman government, was ushered in.

“Eminences, I am ashamed. I wish to offer you my deepest apologies, as well as my resignation,” di Vianello was saying.

“Oh, stop it,” Gambini growled. “No one blames you, Pasco, and you aren’t helping things.”

Cardinal Tsao-Li, a little more gently, added, “Some things, my son, no one can anticipate or prepare for. This was simply one of those things. Thankfully, Divine Providence, and that fine young man, averted the worst of the disaster—which might not have happened but for the training and preparedness that you, and Commendatore Adrenei have ensured.”

Buonamini nodded painfully. “Si, e vero. And my regrets, the profound regrets of the Polizei, and the Administration of the City, which I tender now informally, and will be offered again, later, formally, are also heartfelt—but they are not excuses.” Gonfalone nodded endorsement. The Questore contined, “There are no excuses. We simply underestimated the level of the threat, did not insist on stringent enough security measures.”

Gambini remained pointedly silent, but di Corneliano shook his head. “No, no, my son—do not take this blame upon yourself alone. We allunderestimated the level of hatred, of unreason, of violence—that the Church is subject to in these sad times. It was, perhaps, inevitable that a high profile event like this would provide an irresistible target to those inclined to such evil.”

Monsignor Rinaldi asked, “But… now what do we do with them? How should they be prosecuted? What can we do?” He seemed still shaken, as well he might be, since it had been his painful duty to deal with the poor, violated body of the man he had reverenced so, in life, and the rapine of the beautiful Chapel.

Meisner shook his head. “It must be swift, and it must be drastic. You cannot begin to conceive of the level of outrage—and outright rage—that is being expressed. Not only here, but around the world. As for here….” He got up, and went to the monitor hidden by piles of di Corneliano’s papers, and swiveled it so they could all view, moving a few more stacks in the process. With a few keystrokes, he brought up the live feed of one of the major Roman news services, showing the mobs congregating around the City’s administrative buildings, and in St. Peter’s Square. Every face in the room paled.

“This is terrible… terrible…” di Corneliano’s voice shook. “It must not be allowed to turn into a riot… or worse, a lynch mob.” He looked at Buonamini and di Vianello. “Are those poor misguided people safe?”

Gambini, whose pallor had swiftly given way to another flush of anger, seemed about to explode. “Poor misguided people! Gesu e Maria, Eugenio! Those ‘people’ tried to desecrate the Holy Father’s body and violate the Church! Maladetti! Spawn of Satan! Poor misguided… Santa Maria, give me patience….”

Di Corneliano was distressed. “Si, Guido. Of course you are angry. But do not let your anger betray you into the kind of unthinking malediction that characterizes them. Whatever the source of the evil that led them astray, even if it is within their own hearts—those hearts repose in the bodies of human beings with immortal souls—souls in terrible spiritual danger. As there was nothing that Our Lord could not forgive, who are we to allow malice to overcome our judgment here, yes?”

Gambini folded his lips tightly and, with an effort, took a deep breath. Some of the purple tinge went out of his face. Slowly, he nodded. “Si. Of course you’re right, Eugenio. And in any case…” he exchanged significant glances with Meisner, “the damage is already great enough, without escalation.”

Clearing his throat gently, diVianello brought them back to the point. “They are in custody in three separate, high-security Polizei’s facilities, and only a few officers know for certain where they are. The question is now, do we deal with them ourselves here? Or can we—should we—request assistance from Italy according to the Treaty?”

Even as they spoke, the monitor showed the combined forces of the Polizei and the Carabinieri working the crowds into more controllable forms, gently but firmly barricading them away from sensitive areas, breaking them unobtrusively into smaller groups, positioning plenty of uniformed and plainclothes officers at strategic points, and redirecting the press corps to less obtrusive (less potentially provocative) positions and vantage points.

The men looked at one another. Di Corneliano turned to Meisner. “Johannes? You are our public relations expert.” The President of the Office of Communications chuckled grimly. “I’m no more a public relations expert than Raul Martin is a catechist. You know how the appointments work. I leave the experting to my staff.” He glanced at Gambino. “But it doesn’t take an expert to see the risks involved in trying to deal with this ourselves.”

Gambini nodded, decisively. “Absolutely. Aside from the risks, I am not even certain that Canon Law would permit such action under an Interregnum. Would it, Eugenio?”

Startled, the Camerlengo realized that was the case. While the See was vacant, the Cardinals were empowered to deal with only three things—the burial of the Pope and attendant ceremonies; minor and routine matters of daily operations for the College itself; and the Conclave. All other business had to wait until Peter’s Successor was chosen and installed.

“Si, Guido. We cannot deal with it.” He seemed to realize his office, all at once, and glancing a little uncertainly at the Secretary of State (who, technically, was no longer Secretary of State, since the Pope who appointed him was dead—thus, he could not act in any official capacity,) he turned to Gonfalone. “Signore, we must formally appeal to you, under the Treaty, to officially take custody of these people, charge them as appropriate, and subject them to Italian law. Officers of our Governatorato will, of course, assist and collaborate.”

Gonfalone nodded, resignedly. It had been inevitable that the Vatican would drop this hot chestnut in Italy’s lap—indeed, it was hard to see what else they could do. But it would be a major pain in the ass, and yet another magnet for terrorist attention that the State could ill-afford. “Of course, Eminence. We recognize our obligations under the Lateran Treaty and will apply our best diligence to their fulfillment. Which brings me to a particular matter.”

He looked around at the old men, Princes of the Church, doubtless wise and experienced in their sphere, and certainly not ignorant of human evil—but perhaps a trifle naïve as to its manifestations in the real world. He glanced at Buonamini, who met his gaze a trifle challengingly before dropping his eyes and tightening his lips.

“Eminenzi, in the coming days you will be having many public ceremonies—the Masses, the funeral itself, the Vespers and other observances. There is no reason to assume that these people are the only ones out there who see these events as a wonderful opportunity to do the Church a mischief.”

They all nodded gloomily, and di Vianello’s shoulders tensed, sensing where this was going.

“My government—the City Administration—has already requested extra reinforcements from the national services. We take our commitments under the Treaty seriously. But our resources are limited, as are the national resources. As you know, there are major military exercises underway in preparation for the upcoming peacekeeping deployments, and the Tri-Partners Economic Summit in Milan is coming up. We can supply additional levels of security for a few days, but…”

“The Conclave,” finished di Vianello.

Buonamini murmured “I’m sorry, Pasco… I tried, but…”

The Comissario patted his shoulder. “I know, amico. We are grateful for as much as you can do. And all you have done.”

Di Corneliano, still digesting the implications of this, looked up, and added his smile to di Vianello’s reassurance. “Yes, it is true. In spite of this… terrible incident… your people have been most conscientious. And generous with your resources. We are grateful. We must take counsel among ourselves, then, and see what we can do to ensure the safety of the Conclave. We will, of course, coordinate any actions with you, as always.”

He looked at di Vianello, who nodded. “Naturally.”

On that note, the Roman officials left the meeting, to deal with their own problem—the 'Warriors of Jesus.' Behind them, they left some badly worried Cardinals.

Cardinal Augustus Brown looked on horrified, but not surprised. Vatican security was ever present, but in Jerusalem the public were not to be trusted near the bodies of the Holy deceased. They had learnt from the past, terrorists know no bounds of respect. He would reissue his offer to Vatican for the Knights of Jeruselem to protect the Pontiff and his followers later.

"Warriors of Jesus?" he thought. Maybe the servants of the 3rd anti-Christ who planned to destroy Christianity under name of the false Prophet in the name of God but in reality Satan. He knew a Crusade against the new anti-Christ was required now.

Wombat News Report (http://www.nationstates.net/forum/viewtopic.php?p=2906120#2906120)

(OOC: Laughing hysterically--- thanks, Wombat! We've arrived!)

Hilario Ximenes had already filed past the Pope's body, of course. He had shed his tears, wept all he would weep. He was outside in the square when it happened, when those poor twisted souls tried to desecrate the body of the Holy Father as it lay in state. As people came out, shouting in rage, his fists, too, clenched in anger at what had very nearly happened. As the "Warriors of Jesus" were led away, he too wanted to throw himself upon them.

But he was a Bishop -- a Cardinal, now -- and called to a different response. One that took far more courage: to forgive ill-doers and leave judgment to God.

He sank to his knees in the square and begiun to recite the rosary, while with each bead contemplating the evil that men are capable of. The evil that saw men murder Christ himself, the evil that saw other men attempt violence on the body of a good and decent person who had been Pope.

... full of grace, the Lord is with you....

But also, men are capable of great good. Perhaps these children of God would yet repent. And if they did, they would deserve forgiveness and absolution.

... for us sinners, now and at the hour of our death...

Hilario began to weep again, as his knees felt the stone against them. A few pilgrims from his country joined him. Some prayed, while others watched for signs of trouble.

... forgive us our trespasses, as we forgive those who trespass against us, and lead us not into temptation, but deliver us....

---------

In Tanah Burung, people filled the streets. Thousands of kilometers away, but they seemed to feel the desecration as a slap in their own faces. They shouted as one for something to be done. Anything, as long as it was action.

It was not something that happened very often. And it demanded the government be seen to be responding. And so the collective presidency released a letter sent through diplomatic channels to the Italian government:

In this time of trouble, our thoughts are with the Vatican. We know that the government of Italy will do all it can to ensure the security of the Church at a dark time. Our government stands ready to helop in any way it can.

If it is of help, we are prepared to offer a security force for the use of Vatican security. Tanah Burung has no army, but our police are well trained and have provided election monitoring services in torubeld areas around the world. If they can be of any help in the Vatican, they can be dispatched immediately. Of course, we would place any security officers sent under the command of Italian security forces.

Please accept the assurances of my highest consideration,
Violeta Bi Bere
People's representative for foreign affairs & human rights

The Camerlengo’s office had formally requested the Sostituto’s office, in the Secretariat of State, to respond officially to the many expressions of sympathy and outrage, and the offers of help pouring in. Archbishop Ignazio Rahner, the Sostituto, had met with Cardinal Meisner’s staff, and they had devised the outline of a letter that could be modified as needed to meet the various cases:


“The Camerlengo, and the College of Cardinals, is sincerely grateful for your expressions of support… for your prayers…

“We are encouraged, at this dark hour, by the outpouring of good will and concern that has been a beacon of light and an affirmation of the workings of Divine Providence …

“While we all shared the profound outrage and grief provoked by the desecration, and the evidence of hatred and evil will at a time which should be most holy and thoughtful…

“We have every confidence in the government of Italy to act in accordance with the Lateran treaty, to ensure that those believed to have instigated, and participated in, this criminal act, will receive a fair trial, and that justice will be done.

Civil justice must be done, and we will act in cooperation with the Italian government to ensure that it is done, but temporal justice must be tempered with the knowledge of the eternal mercy of God to all sinners.

Our prayers are with the faithful who have suffered so deeply from this outrage. We commend all of the Faithful to the example of Our Lord and Saviour, who endured outrage and scorn by his love of all humanity, and who forgave his betrayers nonetheless.

Your kind offer of support at this time of trial is deeply appreciated, and we will commend our thanks in prayers for all who have made such offers. However, at this time, we are not prepared to finalize a decision on how to deal with the urgent security issues…

…assure you that you and your government will be most welcome to attend the ceremonies and that increased levels of security will be provided…

…briefings by the Corpo di Vigilanzi to attend to any specific concerns you may have…

…and so on. Variations on this poured out of the Secretariat, and Cardinal Meisner and Corrado Gonfalone provided frequent statements to the press.

On the next day, the “Warriors of Jesus” who had been apprehended at the Basilica, together with two men whom the Polizei believed to have been involved in the planning of the operation, appeared before a magistrate in a high-security section of the Roman Institute of Justice. The proceedings were recorded for broadcast, so that all could see that the charge of conspiracy to commit terrorist acts was entered against them, and they were ordered to be held without bail for separate concurrent trials in Milan, Genoa, and Naples. The charge carried a possible life sentence.

Some of the “Warriors” attempted to disrupt the proceedings by shouting opprobrium at the magistrate, the court officials, and the Church, upon which they were removed from the magistrate’s chamber and made to view the remaining proceedings by a monitor in a separate room. A charge of contempt was added, and they were removed, again in high-security, armored transfer vehicles, to several unnamed facilities where only their attorneys and international human rights organizations would be permitted access to them.

Back in the Vatican, the sensitive issue of security for the Conclave was discussed and re-discussed. The long and occasionally lurid history of Papal Conclaves was a significant factor. Echoes of the Babylonian Captivity, the Popes forced upon the Conclave by various political interests, and other scandals made it a delicate--most delicate--affair.

“We cannot simply turn to a powerful Catholic nation… or even a not-so-powerful one, for that matter… and ask them to send armed men to keep the Princes of the Church safe under seal for the Conclave,” Renard insisted. “It will lend a most disagreeable flavor of patronage to the proceedings, and may even throw into doubt the integrity of the outcome!”

Hume shook his head. “Such concerns may have been valid a few centuries ago when the Church held great temporal powers, but surely today there is no question of such…” he trailed off. “Never mind,” he sighed. “Perhaps we should accept a small number from each of several governments who have offered…?”

Di Vianello and Andrenei patiently explained, “Eminences, for a security operation to function well, all of those involved must be well-coordinated, speak each others’ language, communicate effectively… It is simply not possible to put together a—a patchwork like that.”

Di Corneliano shook his head dubiously “Perhaps, if we accepted help from a nation that does not have a Cardinal involved in the Conclave?”

Renard considered. “Perhaps, but there are a number of fairly powerful Catholic countries who have no Cardinal at this time. And some of them are on, shall we say, shaky ground, with the Church? It might not be a good idea.”

Hume sighed. “Accept help from a nation that is not Catholic? That would outrage the Faithful! If we cannot rely on our own people…”

Gambini, who had been silent until now, spoke up. “Perhaps the answer lies in not accepting help, but purchasing it.”

The others turned to look at him, and gaped. Gambini suggesting an expenditure? It was a measure of how serious the matter was that no one commented on the irony, but it lay heavy in the room. The Sicilian plowed on. “If we can find a reputable firm from some country that cannot be suspected of trying to influence the outcome, and put them under the liaison of our own forces…” he shrugged. “It need not be too expensive. The benefits to such a firm of having it known that they provided security in such a situation might provide a very powerful incentive to a, ah, reasonable price.”

They thought about it, weighed it from all angles, discussed it. Found many objections. But at the end of a couple of hours, no one had come up with anything better. They were uncomfortable, having to act so quickly, but it was already the third day, the third of the Masses for the Dead had been celebrated that morning, and the funeral would take place on the sixth day. Then there would be three more days of masses, and absolutions, and the Conclave would be upon them. Almost all of the Cardinals were gathered.

Di Corneliano was so stunned at the idea of Gambini voluntarily suggesting an unplanned expenditure that he simply asked Hume, the Sub-Dean of the College, to assist Gambini and the security staff in coming up with a final plan to be presented the next day.

Outside, in a veritable sea of uniformed and plainclothes Italian security personnel, the Faithful attended Masses, Vigils, and Vespers, and surged slowly in and out of St. Peter’s Square like a spring tide. A sheet of heavy, bulletproof glass had been installed across the front of the Chancel in the Basilica, and a sound system installed to enable the Congregation, in the nave, to participate in the Mass. Communion was dispensed by deacons, the Cardinal celebrants were not allowed to come to the rail and dispense it personally. No one objected, except some of the Cardinals, who hated the separation.

Jeruselem Government News

Official Catholic mourning for death of Pontiff Sixtus VI declared

Following the death of Pope Sixtus VI, Jeruselem Catholics are encouraged to participate in the official mourning ceremonies to be conducted by the Catholic Church. Cardinal Augustus Brown would normally lead these ceremonies, but he is in Rome for the conclave. Cardinal James will take over responsbility along the Latin Patriarch who will start proceedings.

Security around the Cathedral of Jerusalem has been tighted as well as anti-Terrorist activity. The Inquisition are seeking information about the activities of the "Warriors of Jesus", who disrupted the Pope's funeral ceremony.

Lehman had already filed past the Holy Father and payed his respects when news of the Warriors of Jesus. His blood was boiling. Mayhem, utter mayhem! The Pope passes on, Christians await their new spiritual leader, Warriors of Jesus are aprehended. What next? I hope things will quiet down by the time the conclave starts... or at least I hope it goes smoothly.

He continued on walking rather aimlessly. His thoughts traveled from thought to thought. His main focus was on mourning for the Holy Father. He would probably be up late praying for his soul. He knew it would end up in heaven but if not for the Holy Father at least for anyone close to him. It would be a terrible loss to suffer. Especially considering the remifications of the Pope's death with all the talk of "the last conclave".

Lehman walked on out of the Vatican to see Rome's renouned art. This was one thing he had stupidly forgot to do with the Consistatory and all. He sarted with the Pantheon and just continued on seeking refuge from his sadness in the lovely art. Soon though he went back to the Vatican to begin praying.

The mortal remains of Sixtus VI had been laid in a coffin of cypress, with a purple veil over his face, and a red ermine blanket covering his pontifical robes. Coins and medals struck during his reign were laid in the coffin with him.

The cypress coffin was sealed in a lead outer coffin, with his coat of arms on it, and the certificate of death within, where the damp would not reach it. Finally, the lead coffin was encased in a simple wooden coffin of elm, so that he would go into his grave in a box such as other men were buried in.

The coffin, draped in the white-and-gold pall, was in front of the High Altar, surrounded by the Noble Guard. Under the canopy of the altar, Cardinal Pironio, the Archpriest of St. Peters, celebrated the funeral Mass, assisted by two other Cardinals and the Bishop of Lynkrevjz. The Sistine Choir, whose sole privilege it was to sing Masses for the Pope in St. Peters, did so for the last time.

Forty thousand people were inside the massive Basilica, in a graduated ring of importance (and security,) and nearly 300,000 in St. Peter’s Square. Most of the police forces in Italy had been tapped to supplement the Carabinieri, and the number of bomb-detection units, undercover patrols, surveillance helicopters, and other precautions were making a hefty dent in the national budget—a dent that was more than filled by the tourism revenues. Nonetheless, the civil authorities fretted like a father waiting on the delivery of triplets throughout the days surrounding the funeral, and during the funeral itself they preserved a grim determination to ensure that nothing, absolutely nothing, would go wrong.

They succeeded (mostly.) A few protestors were hustled away with marginal politesse, seventeen doubtful unattended packages caused minor flurries (the most dangerous of which proved to contain liverwurst sandwiches,) an enterprising drug dealer disguised as an Augustinian Canon dispensing blessed souvenirs (hollow and filled with product) was hailed at the Trastevere lockup with delight, and several fistfights, plus one knife-fight, of the usual sort that occur when far too many volatile people are packed into far too small an area, were tidily broken up. The crime statistics for the City saw a considerable spike, but that was only to be expected, with so many, many visitors.

Commentators solemnly commented, airbrushed talent read informative little narratives about the traditions of the Church from their teleprompters, dignitaries made dignified remarks to cameras and microphones, and the world paid its last farewells to the man who had succeeded Peter, Prince of Apostles.

When the panoply was over, they would lower him into the vault under the high altar, there to join the remains of his predecessors in awaiting the Final Resurrection.

Lehman stood and the perimeter of the crowd getting closer to St. Peter's. He wore his cardinal clothing and one Swiss guard found it necessary to escort him due to the unrully crowd. One man shouted some Italian that Lehman could not interpret. The man swung his fist at Lehman chanting, "La morte alla chiesa! Il Papa ha preso che ha meritato!" Lehman hardly felt sorry for the man when he was quicklyy struck down and dragged away by guards.

"Couldn't you have worn something less obvious your eminence?"

"Not if I plan to show respect for the deceased." The guard was surprised Lehman kept his composure. He smiled and led him on. Lehman was now right up front in St. Peter's. The choir almost fully drowned out the crowd in the background. Lehman turned to see the dean of the college next to him. He smiled because he felt that this was a time to pay final respects, not engadge in mindless chatter, they may talk later though.

Dominion News Brief

The faithful of the Dominion are in mourning following the passing of Pope Sixtus VI, and were shocked at the actions of the group, ‘Warriors of Jesus’ at the Holy Father’s funeral. Archbishop Giovanni Battista urged worshippers at the Basillica de San Bernardi to keep the faith, and have mercy on those who hate.

“Keep forgiveness in your hearts, and faith in God and the law that these poor misguided souls will find Justice,” he was heard to say.

The government has made no official statement, as per standard. Wishing to be seen as not backing any one faith in particular, they have had a history of leaving well enough alone, with the exception of a recent repeal in the tax exempt status of religious groups. All the same, flags have been flown at half-mast in deference to the beloved leader of the Catholic faith, in a gesture of quiet respect.

--------------------------------------------

As soon as could be arranged, Archbishop Battista received clearance and booked a flight to Rome. Much needed to be discussed. The Dominion had not stood strong in the faith for a good many years, it’s rich history of Catholicism having faded soon after the fall of the Doges. They had never been the seat of power, true, but had often managed their share of influence back in the day. Perhaps it was time again to renew some ties, and if was in the cards, secure a stronger backing within the Dominion itself.

Security had been tight getting out of the Dominion. He was almost surprised to see the same upon arriving in Rome. Dressed in a tasteful yet somber business suit in charcoal grey. If this were to be a business meeting, it was best to keep it businesslike, in his mind. Suitable attire for the more personal matter of the viewing and any ecclesiastical meetings had been packed with care and respect.

He offered up his passport, keeping an eye on the methods used and demeanor of the security guards with more than a little professional interest. I think they will be impressed with the level of professionalism we can offer. One can hope so, at least.

Once through the tiresome yet necessary checks, he made some calls, one of which was an attempt to reach Cardinal Gambini. The message was clear.

“Your Eminence, I believe we may have a solution for your increased security demands during these decidedly trying times.”

Time was getting short—too short—and the little group working on the issue of security for the Conclave was finding far too many options slip away on closer scrutiny.

There was no great affinity between Guido Cardinal Gambini and his colleague Michael Stephen Cardinal Hume, but no real animosity, either. Hume was not inclined to activities Gambini regarded as ‘money-wasters,’ and as President of the Pontifical Council for Inter-Religious Dialogue, Hume had to work fairly closely with the Secretariat, and managed not to upset applecarts. His leanings toward liberalism, while undesirable in a political sense, were not personally offensive to Gambini, who wasn’t much of a doctrinal analyst from either end of the spectrum.

Pasco di Vianello, the Comissario of the Corpo di Vigilanzi, had an excellent working relationship with most of the Curial Cardinals, and although he’d occasionally gone head-to-head with Gamibini over the security budget, they’d usually managed to work things out effectively. And of course, everyone liked Commendatore Andrenei of the Noble Guard (except for a few Guardsmen who considered him a tight-assed, eagle-eyed nitpicker.) So it wasn’t any interpersonal issues that kept them from being effective.

Nor was Gambini playing his usual obstructionist role (his natural mode whenever a question of expending the Church’s financial resources was raised.) On the contrary, it had been he who had suggested that they investigate the possibility of hiring additional security for the Conclave.

Nevertheless, the number of potentially viable alternatives was too small and getting smaller. They could not contract to a firm from a country that had a Cardinal in the Conclave. They could not contract to a firm from a nation with a Catholic sovereign. These precautions were necessary to avoid the slightest taint of coercion or undue influence touching the Conclave. They could not contract to a firm from a country that made a policy of suppressing religion, especially Christianity or (most especially) Catholicism. They needed a firm that had the most modern and effective resources available. And they hoped for a firm that could communicate well and liaison effectively with both the Vatican’s own security personnel, and the limited Italian security forces that would be providing some of the external security.

A seemingly more-than-generous pile of offers had been winnowed through, one-by-one, with offer after offer ending up in the “not appropriate” pile.

Di Vianello was discussing the firm that subcontracted their electronic surveillance interdiction, Valtestino.

“They are more than willing to augment the services they do offer—and they are quite competent. But not cutting-edge. And they were quite clear that they cannot provide any of the other additional services we require.”

Andrenei looked at him shrewdly. “That’s not an overwhelming vote of confidence, Pasco…”

Di Vianello sighed “I did not mean it to sound so. They have done an excellent job on the more—routine—matters. But they themselves admit that we are asking more than they can deliver in this particular case.”

As they spoke, Cardinal Gambini’s phone rang. “Momenti,” he grunted, noting that it was Father Francis Kwan, his Secretary, on the line. “Si, Francis?”

A faint quacking sound; the others politely tried not to listen.

“E vero? Interesting. Have him escorted to my office. I will be there shortly.”

Upon breaking the connection, he looked up at the others, with a speculative expression. “We have a visitor from the Dominion. Archbishop Giovanni Battista has requested a meeting with me—about security.”

Hume’s brows rose. “The Dominion? Hmmmmm…”

Di Vianello’s expression echoed Gambini’s. “A possibility, Eminence. No one has ever accused Lady Nathicana of taking the slightest interest in religion of any sort, but the Dominion does have long Catholic traditions among the people. And, of course, there would be no communications problems at all.”

Andrenei looked from one to the other. “I’m afraid I must plead a certain amount of ignorance. I know the Dominion only peripherally. Do they have the level of resources required for such an assignment?”

Hume snorted a little. “Like all dictators, Nathicana has a healthy appreciation of… risk. And a superlatively sensitive instinct for self-preservation. And, given the more cutthroat levels of commerce the Dominion engages in, I should guess that there is a generous abundance of resources available,” he said drily.

They were all silent for a moment, considering that.

“It can’t hurt to see what he is offering, Eminence,” Andrenei suggested, tentatively.

Gambini nodded. “I will find out. If it seems feasible… well, we’ll take it from there."

In the Camerlengo’s office, di Corneliano was meeting with Cardinal Esteban, who was Governor of the Conclave.

“Father Iulio? Do you have those lists?”

“Certainly, Eminence.” The secretary brought fresh copies of the roster for the Conclave. With the thirty-one Cardinals Sixtus had elevated just before his death, the Church had eighty-four Cardinals altogether, seventy-two of whom were under eighty years of age and thus eligible to participate in the Conclave and vote.

Nineteen of the Cardinals currently held Curial appointments that required them to live in Rome; perhaps five or six were among the Cardinals irreverently known as the “Curia Nostra”—the professional administrators of all ranks from priest to Cardinal, who had made careers of the Vatican bureaucracy. Gambini was of their rank; and Esteban realized ruefully that he himself was a ‘Curia Nostra,’ too. Ah well, his first action after the selection of a new Pope would be to petition for retirement, and sequester himself in his little country home in Campania, and make over his soul—try to sweep the cobwebs of bureaucracy aside, and recapture some of the spiritual essence that had brought him to the Church those sixty years back.

They noted who was present in Rome, and who was not. Almost all of the Cardinals were here; having come for the Consistory. A few stragglers were on their way, scheduled to arrive in the next four days. Not Feraletzo, of course—he was in prison for the Faith. And they had just had the sad news that Nairimbi was on his own deathbed, in a hospital in Letuku, and not expected to live out the week.

Esteban nodded in satisfaction. “This at least seems to be proceeding smoothly. I have been with D’Estrazio, of the Floreria. They have already been at work in the Sacristy. All of the shutters are installed, as are the door seals. Sister Agnes and Father Martin have cleared St. Martha’s of everyone but the Conclavists.” He chuckled a little ruefully. “It is as well that our numbers are still relatively manageable. As it is, we will just fit in the Sacristy, which will make security that much easier.”

Larger Conclaves had been held in the Sistine Chapel, but that had been in the days before the building of St. Martha’s, when holding a Conclave had meant the construction of temporary sleeping cubicles in the Chapel itself, to accommodate the Conclavists. Now, while limited to St. Martha’s, the covered passage from the Hostel to the Sacristy, and the Sacristy itself, at least the dining and sanitary facilities were adequate for seventy-plus old men and their servants, and while the quarters were close, at least they provided some breathing room.

Di Corneliano was looking the list over, speculatively. Esteban looked at him shrewdly. “Pope-hunting?”

The Camerlengo laughed a little. “Aren’t we all, my friend? What a task is before us! To find a man who is not so liberal he alienates the reactionaries, not so conservative he estranges the progressives—not too politically controversial, yet distinctive enough to provide real leadership. A man of vision, who won’t rock the boat too severely, a man who can see the Eternal perspective while being in touch with the contemporary problems of the Faithful; who can guide this intractable old bureaucracy of ours without grinding it to an oppositional halt; who can provide pastoral leadership to the Bishops while enabling them to exercise their best judgment for their own conditions; who can command the respect of the temporal princes of the world while retaining the love of the humble and the common…” humour crept into his voice as he recited the catalogue.

“A Peter, in fact,” Esteban summed up drily.

Di Corneliano chuckled, and cocked his head slightly to one side. “Si, Vicente. Have you seen him yet?”

“It might be you,” Esteban offered.

Di Corneliano considered. “Perhaps. I suppose we have all wondered, ‘Is it me?’ I don’t feel like a Pope. But then, I understand, one doesn’t. Not until it happens, anyway. I have tried to imagine it happening, I admit…” he trailed off.

“And? What did you imagine?” Esteban asked, curiously.

The Camerlengo made a sound that was half a snort, half a bark of laughter. “Terror, Vicente. Naked, cold-sweat-inducing terror. Such a responsibility! Truly, if it were not for Divine Providence, the Papacy would not be possible at all.”

The Governor of the Conclave nodded, seriously. “And yet, there is Divine Providence. And it manifests itself in the strangest ways. I remember when Mralina was elected—the assumption was that he would be a reactionary warrior, continuing and even accelerating the work that John-Paul II had begun. And truthfully, Eugenio, I was worried. Too many scandals, too much power flowing into the hands of extraclerical orders. The Faithful in the more developed countries were finding the Church increasingly irrelevant, and the mission work in the developing countries was meeting roadblocks because of our unwillingness to accommodate the social and cultural realities of the people.”

He smiled. “And then, without ever clearly suppressing the reactionary tide, Sixtus simply slowed the pace, redirected the energy into less controversial channels, and headed off some very unpleasant developments. If you had asked me in 1997 what a Mralina papacy would look like, that would not have been my description!”

“Nor mine,” admitted di Corneliano, “although at the time I was only just entering the Marian Academy. You are right, one can never tell. I think a man’s basic character can provide some indication, though. I myself was wondering about our brother Thiandoum. Perhaps it is time we elected a non-white Pope. And Emmanuel is a very holy man.”

“I agree with you—it is long past time that we elected a non-white Pope, but I am not certain that all of our brothers are ready for such a step. And you know the issues we are dealing with in North Africa just now may bring a disagreeable flavor of controversy to such a choice.”

“Perhaps Strieder, from Munich?” di Corneliano hazarded, a little diffidently.

“I remember him when he was Nuncio to Lisbon, we worked closely together. A good administrator, but getting too close to retirement, perhaps.”

Di Corneliano sighed. “May the Holy Spirit be with us. Well, my brother…” he glanced at his watch. “Merciful heavens! I promised the heralds I would inspect the canopies and tables this afternoon. I am keeping them waiting.”

“And I have to meet with Doctor Pavioli about the infirmary facilities. Go with God, Eugenio.”

Jeruselem Government News

Protestant church raid nets Warriors of Jesus suspects

The Inquisition netted two Warriors of Jesus members after a surprise raid on a Protestant Church. Knights of Jeruselem sealed off access to the Church before they launched a lightning raid catching the two suspects in sleeping in basement of the Church.

It is rumoured the local Protestant priest got suspicious after food and money was being taken from the Church lately including a Gold cross. After discovering the disused storage area in the basement of recent human activity, the authories were called to investigate.

The suspects are refusing to talk, but Warriors of Jesus literature were found with them when caught.

Battista offered the aide a genuine smile, voicing his thanks as he was lead to Gambini’s office. He felt confident enough in his proposal, still, as he walked through the halls his pulse raced a bit. The Church had been fairly quiet in the Dominion, for far too long now. They had watched the ebb and flow of internal politics within the faith from afar, tending more to their own while keeping a fairly strict adherence to the teachings set forth.

He thanked the aide again as they reached the office, and he stood, casually examining the room and its contents with a practiced eye, trying to get a feel for the man whom it belonged. Which approach to take … what points to offer first … which methods and means might be approved ... who would have custody of any miscreants discovered ... all these things and more were again considered thoughtfully as he waited quietly.

At the very least, this will prove for the best, bringing the Dominion once again back into a closer relationship with the Church, as it should be.

Father Francis Kwan, Cardinal Gambini's personal secretary, offered the Archbishop a choice of cappucino or wine, and ushered him into the seat reserved for distinguished visitors in the Secretary of State's inner office.

"His Eminence will be here momentarily, Excellency," he murmured.

Gambini's office was a businesslike, rather neutral place. Of course many of the furnishings were beautiful, and old--but then most of the furnishings in the major Vatican offices were beautiful and old. They had a lot of old stuff to go around.

Still, there was nothing antique about the electronics on the Cardinal's desk. It was clear, too, from the array of sturdy wooden filing cabinets close at hand that the Cardinal was accustomed to having large quantities of information at his fingertips at all times.

He was a tidy man and not much given to imposing personal taste on his surroundings, but a couple of small, exquisite Renaissance paintings--a Tintoretto and a Raphael--adorned the walls, along with an impressive Medieval crucifix that had been attributed to Riemenschneider.

As the Archbishop settled himself, the door opened and Cardinal Gambini entered. He was of medium height and a trifle on the stocky side, with thinning black hair that had never grayed but was rapidly leaving his head altogether. In a few years he'd be a notable baldpate. He had the Sicilian olive to his complexion, and a strong, eagle-like profile a trifle marred by the deep set of his eyes, underlined by noticeable pouches.

"You are welcome, Archbishop, most welcome," he said, offering a hand to shake. "It is a sad time for us here in Rome, but the renewed presence of many of our brothers is some small consolation. I was very interested to get your call. An opportune call... at an opportune time."

He seated himself, not behind his desk, but at a chair adjacent to Battista's, and surveyed his visitor with a shrewd, serious gaze.

(OOC: Apologies to all, we had a minor RL disaster this weekend, and have gotten behind on our threads. We will amend...)

Battista accepted the wine with a nod and a smile. “Grazie, Father,” he said in return. He absentmindedly ran a hand through his close-cropped hair, already peppered with grey. Distinguished, they called it. Getting old, he always replied with a wry grin. Still, he’d managed to keep himself well enough, he supposed, through God’s grace and a dedication to keeping relatively fit.

Here, in Gambini’s office, he already felt at home. The ambience and organization of the place, while differing in the details, was all too familiar, reminding him again of common cultural ties. He noted with approval at the unmistakable signs of a man who kept on top of things.

As the Cardinal entered the room, Battista rose to his feet, carefully setting his glass of wine aside as he took his first measure of the man … and came away from it already impressed. He accepted the offered hand with a somber nod, accompanied with a firm yet friendly shake.

“Indeed, your Eminence. The Dominion has been too long away from Rome and our brothers. It was past time we remedied that. While the occasion is one I much regret, it was our hope that we could at least offer what little assistance we could in the light of recent happenings. Distant we have been, but we have hardly been blind.”

As Gambini settled in, he took his seat again as well, meeting his host’s gaze steadily. “I will not presume to waste your time in needless posturing. We have seen a need here for assistance from those faithful and sensitive to the needs and tenets of the Church. We have been blessed thus far that nothing worse has happened with these misguided zealots running amok. Even so, it is our responsibility to do what we can to protect ourselves in the future. I can only imagine that you see this as well, or I would not find myself sitting here in your office discussing it.”

http://home.mchsi.com/~ketri/wsb/links/Battista.jpg

(ooc: Apologies as well – dealing with a little one determined to keep the household from sleep. It has been cutting into a good portion of my usual writing time. I hope the disaster on your end wasn’t too terribly bad and got cleared up – best of luck.)

Gambini considered. "A need, yes. With the best will in the world to fulfill its obligations under the Lateran treaty, the government of Italy's resources currently fall short of our needs. As you note, these, ah, 'misguided zealots' are only one aspect of the potential problem."

He leaned back, frowning a trifle as he sought the clearest way to communicate, without impairing Battista's ability to draw his own conclusions.

"It is a delicate matter. You are no doubt aware of the historical controversies attaching to Papal Conclaves. While one would certainly hope that modern understanding might allay some of these traditional fears, it is becoming apparent that in many nations the ability of the Church to communicate and provide clarity on both doctrinal and administrative matters has been.... significantly impaired. We must be extremely careful with regard to anything that could potentially excite national insecurities and compromise the integrity of the Conclave."

"For this reason, we are resolved to enter into a purely commercial contract for the purpose of, ah, augmenting the available resources. Given the severe time restrictions in hand, critical factors would include the ability of a potential contractor to communicate clearly and liaison smoothly with both the Vatican and Italian security personnel, and of course rapidity of mobilization. We can delay the Conclave no longer than a day or two, at best, to implement enhanced security."

"And of course, there is one additional consideration that can be regarded as, if not critical, certainly important: We must be prudent with the temporal resources of the Church. In spite of the vastly inflated notions uninformed persons may have of Vatican financial resources, I can state quite authoritatively that there is every reason to be judicious in how we apply our monetary resources."

"Frankly, I was quite interested to receive your call, partly because it has been a concern here at the Secretariat for some time that the Dominion's Faithful have been unduly neglected in our consideration, but also from a purely practical appreciation of the Dominion's resources and reputation in the matter of, ah... security."

"And the Dominion's civil government, while deplorably unsatisfactory from a purely spiritual point of view, has at least avoided the excesses in any type of religious involvement that might provoke suspicions of its intent with regard to influencing the outcome of the Conclave or the policies of the Church."

Canting his head slightly, Gambini watched his visitor's face and manner carefully as he responded.

God's word said BUMP

OOC:

School's a pain. Keeps me from RPing consistently... :oops:

Also, in this RP, I'm using fluid time since Alexander I is still alive here; he had recently died.

IC:

Cardinal Horthy smiled as he greeted Father Stone. But, the smile soon faded as the news of Sixtus' condition were heard by the Cardinal. He had not improved? What is to become of the Holy Father? He certainly could die, and leave the glorious position of the Holy Father empty to another cardinal.

"I am saddened by the word that Our Holy Father is not well," responded Cardinal Horthy as he bowed his head.

Father Stone brought up a question on the condition of the Catholic church in Valeria. Horthy responded with a frown. "The church is maintained in The Crown Empire. Membership is strong in the Austro-Hungarian Isles, but Catholics are decreasing elsewhere, I'm afraid," said the Cardinal. "The emperor favors Jews and Orthodoxes over Catholics, Father. The population of Catholics overall in the empire has dropped from 15% to 9% throughout his reign, as the emperor had forced many of our followers to take Orthodoxes or Jews as mates. Yet, I am certain that his son will not do the same. I pray to God that Alexander will soon return to Him, for His Majesty is frightfully inhumane to many. He needs to know God's Judgment."

“I understand completely,” Battista says, trying to sound reassuring, his demeanor serious. “Given the past history of our nation and the delicate balance required in such a situation as exists here, we anticipated that your needs might be as you have said. This being the case, there is a Dominion-based corporation run by a faithful family – Genovese, actually. Not only are they well-equipped and trained to handle such an endeavor, but they, as good Catholics, have the interest of the Church at heart. They are quite open to negotiations on what would make a fair price.”

They ought to be well-equipped. Between being a front for la Famiglias and enjoying a healthy stipend from the government …

“As for your concern over supposed ‘neglect’ … think nothing of it, your Eminence. We have strayed on our own I’m afraid, not always having the strength to take a stand in the ebb and flow of Dominion politics, which, at the best of times could be said to be … mercurial. I won’t lie to you – I do hope that this meeting will bring us closer to the Church, once more back into the fold as it were. It is high time. While it is true, the government takes little interest in our doings, we find the lack of faith there a concern as well.” Here, he spreads his hands and sits back a bit in his chair.

“Perhaps in time we will find ourselves in a better position to influence and guide the policies in the Dominion,” he says with a smile. “One can only hope. In the meantime, it would be an honor to be of service in what manner we may.”

(OOC: Since our business with Conclave prep is not *quite* done yet, we'll split the timelines-- to finish prep business in this thread, and get started on the actual Conclave HERE:

http://www.nationstates.net/forum/viewtopic.php?p=2952243#2952243

However, you should first check out the OOC logistics thread here:

http://www.nationstates.net/forum/viewtopic.php?t=134194&highlight=

before posting. Thx. Back to regularly scheduled programming:)


Gambini nodded. "A most welcome offer. We would gladly discuss specific terms with someone empowered for this discussion, as soon as may be possible. Time presses, and we must be prepared for the Conclave to begin soon. Our Commisario of the Vigilanzi, Pasco di Vianello, and our Commendatore of the Noble Guard, Vergel Andrenei, are prepared to begin liaison at any time. A principal issue, of course, is electronic security, as well as the physical security of the Cardinals."

He sat back and relaxed a bit. "On the assumption that the logistics of these matters may be settled between the security experts, as it were, perhaps we can move on to the matter of the Church in the Dominion. While the Vatican policy has always been to refrain from involvement in the individual temporal affairs of national governments, we do of course have a concern for the souls of individuals in governments. And it is certainly a principle that the Faithful in any country should have liberty of conscience to express their Catholic principles in whatever degree of participation in public life they may wish to undertake."

"While we are reluctant to commit to specific expenditures--and of course all discussions of policy at this point are purely hypothetical, subject to the policies of the new Pontiff--it seems to me that one possible way to bring the Faithful of the Dominion closer to the Church might perhaps be the establishment of a Nunciature in the Dominion, and the appointment of a Nuncio from the Vatican to assist the Dominion's Ecclesiastical Conference in maintaining communications with Rome."

His voice lifted with a slight note of enquiry, and an eyebrow canted slightly as he finished the suggestion.

“This is … somewhat unexpected, your Excellency,” Battista says slowly, sitting forward in his chair, a finger laid thoughtfully against his lips. “It is indeed our desire, as stated, to regain closer ties to Rome. However, ah … how to put this delicately.”

He ponders for a moment, then continues carefully. “Given the nature and more recent history of the Dominion, not to mention the government’s penchant for viewing possible ‘challenges’ to their control with a less than friendly eye, I wonder if smaller steps at first, perhaps would be prudent. I for one do not wish to be seen as a threat, nor to butt heads with the Dominion state. An area we are hoping to improve, no mistake.”

“Still, it is something to give serious thought to, and perhaps work towards? The care of the faithful, after all, is not a matter to be taken lightly, temporal complications or no. And as you say, there is still the matter of the Conclave to consider. Perhaps the next Pontiff will have thoughts on this matter as well. As for the monetary concerns, do not be troubled over them. I am certain that come the time, we shall find a way to accommodate our mutual needs.”

Gambini nodded sapiently. "I understand. Political balances are delicate things. And our first concern must be to protect the Church. In that case, perhaps we should recommend to the new Pontiff that a review of the Dominion's Ecclesiastical Conference might be worthwhile, with an eye to establishing a red hat in the Dominion."

"Of course, such decisions are entirely up to the Holy Father. But the Secretariat can certainly make the recommendation. "

Gambini smiled blandly. It was good to do business with a man who appreciated the delicate nuances of negotiation.

"I do hope you're planning on remaining in Rome for the duration of the Conclave, or at least planning to return for the Coronation. I'm sure the Secretariat will benefit from a more in-depth discussion of the Church in the Dominion, once the Conclave is ended."

Gambini nodded sapiently. "I understand. Political balances are delicate things. And our first concern must be to protect the Church. In that case, perhaps we should recommend to the new Pontiff that a review of the Dominion's Ecclesiastical Conference might be worthwhile, with an eye to establishing a red hat in the Dominion."

"Of course, such decisions are entirely up to the Holy Father. But the Secretariat can certainly make the recommendation. "

Gambini smiled blandly. It was good to do business with a man who appreciated the delicate nuances of negotiation.

"I do hope you're planning on remaining in Rome for the duration of the Conclave, or at least planning to return for the Coronation. I'm sure the Secretariat will benefit from a more in-depth discussion of the Church in the Dominion, once the Conclave is ended."

Battista’s brow arched up at the first suggestion. “Of course, we would never presume …” he said, hands spreading slightly, then assuming a contemplative posture. “Though I cannot say we would be opposed to such. I can think of several brethren who could serve honorably in such a position. I would think spending some time in the Dominion, reacquainting yourselves with the faithful and the church hierarchy there could be most useful.” He quite tactfully avoided drawing any attention to himself, and firmly kept his expression one of thoughtful concern.

“Our nation has grown over the years, and, I think, the needs of the faithful with it. For too long perhaps, some of those needs have gone unaddressed. Such a move could indeed establish a strong front against any political maneuverings from the government, which will undoubtedly happen at some point or other, unless things change drastically. Such a recommendation would be very much appreciated. Grazie, your Excellence. We would be honored,” he said with a respectful inclination of his head.

“As for my own stay, I must admit, I had hoped to remain here for the duration. It would be unseemly at the very least to miss such an important occasion, and truth, I feel I ought to make my own efforts at reacquainting. So many here, and from abroad – it would be foolish to miss such an opportunity,” he said with a smile. “I thank you again for your hospitality. This visit has already surpassed the hopes I had when first I set out.”