The First Love Of Alipang Havens

Chapter 131: Not So Calm Before The Storm

Lieutenant Walter Ayodele of Nigerian Army Intelligence, travelling in civilian guise, had come to New York City to join in the hunt for the Venezuelan Alliance agents who were waiting to release their botanical plague against the collective farms of the D.S.A. Joining Danny Alyard (whose wife Tashonda had been sent away to safety after one of the secret army's agents had been wounded by a sniper in lower Manhattan), the Nigerian officer had quickly gotten past the odd coincidence of their similar last names, and followed the ex-detective's lead in scouring the neighborhoods which had once been so familiar to him.

The secret army had not even bothered seeking the help of the federal district police, who were only accustomed to bullying unarmed civilians. Not to mention the Atkinson administration being devoted to appeasement. But the searchers had their own technological support, including overhead satellite imagery and compact snifferbots, to help them track the suspects who had been identified by higher-level intelligence assets.

Given the tight limitations the Diversity States government imposed on people even _being_ in rural areas (a policy rooted in the Sustainable Communities Initiative of the previous decade), it was thought that the agricultural saboteurs would find it easier to hide out in the city, until they actually received orders either to execute or to abort the attack on the soybean crop.

It was an August day as hot as any known to New York _before_ the Fairness Revolution -- since the nation's new difficulties with electrical power had compelled the Party Presidium to discontinue the weather-control services in what were usually favored areas. Danny, long settled in Ireland, felt much more discomfort than Walter; but he kept at the hunt.

The latest clues transmitted to their dataphones led them to the Kim Jong-Il Collective Dormitory, scarcely two kilometers north of Battery Park. Three other agents were already converging on the building as Danny and Walter disembarked from a bus to join them. The one woman in the trio, a Polish woman Danny didn't know, had activated her nano-bodysuit to assume the appearance of a Commerce Inspector's uniform. Opening one of the entrance doors of the dormitory, she exclaimed: "Attention, citizens! Distribution Department spot inspection in progress! We are searching for any unauthorized food items! Everyone file out this door!" The two men with her also had the chameleon-like suits, and they now also changed appearance.

Being supernumerary searchers, Danny and Walter didn't have nano-bodysuits; but without needing to be told, they walked over to cover the opposite entrance of the building. The proletarian occupants began emerging from the first door; they were all thin enough that Danny was instantly sure _none_ of them was carrying any extra food. But the real question, of course, was whether any of them were infiltrators with faked identification, carrying something intended to _destroy_ food.

An answer offered itself, in the form of a man with a backpack dashing out the door that the two backup agents were watching. Danny and Walter both fired trank darts at the fugitive; they both scored hits, but the man must have been pre-immunized, for he kept running. Danny touched a button on a wristband he wore, sending a coded "In Pursuit" signal to other agents, as he and Walter gave chase. Walter, younger and longer-limbed, raced ahead, but Danny kept as near to him as possible.

The two agents had scarcely gone far enough to be out of sight of their three colleagues, when they felt a faint shudder in the air. Both realized that this must mean some form of sonic weapon discharging. The trio at the dormitory entrance possessed such weapons, as another means of non-lethal subdual. At the same time, Danny's wrist device gave a blink of light that meant reinforcements were coming; they would be keeping track of the status of the other agents, so Danny pressed onward in Walter's wake.

The chase was threading its way through late-afternoon pedestrian and bicycle traffic; but the proletarian throngs just got out of the way. The years of programmed, passive dependency on government had rendered even Manhattan residents much less defiant than Danny remembered them from his old days as a beat cop.

In an alley next to a ration dispensary which had once been a fashion boutique, the quarry turned at bay just as Walter was about to catch him. Turned at bay... and pointed a hand at him, the way the disbanded Overseers might have gestured if about to fire their wrist-mounted tasers.

Danny, coming up behind, had just time to see that something was indeed mounted on the backpack wearer's wrist -- before the air trembled again, and this time the pavement trembled with it, and Danny's ears were stabbed with pain. The fugitive had his own sonic weapon, and was shooting it at Walter. The Nigerian fell to the pavement, stunned; but like the ones carried by the three senior field agents, the sound projector had a short effective range. Danny was staggered by the sound waves, but not incapacitated. Drawing his non-metallic 10-millimeter slug pistol, thumbing a control for low-velocity shots, he fired two bullets into each of his adversary's legs.

The presumable Venezuelan agent was not as badly hurt as if Danny had fired at full power, but he still fell down screaming in pain. At the same time, hundreds of civilians fled screaming in terror at the sound of shooting....

And a realization struck Danny: it was possible that the sonic weapon discharged behind him had not been one belonging to his fellow agents after all.
 
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Seeing no sign of immediate peril to his own person, Danny took his next actions with the efficiency of a long-time police veteran. First, he crouched alongside the suspect, and rendered the man unconscious with something more low-tech than the trank darts. A hard fist to the head was not something the suspect would have any immunity to, and unconsciousness should prevent him from activating any suicide device. Then Danny slapped flesh-fuse packs onto the wounds he had inflicted in the suspect's legs; the shots not having ruptured either femoral artery, this would be enough to ward off any danger of the man dying anytime soon.

The value of taking a live prisoner for questioning, plus the fact that the sonic projector the fugitive had used was not one with a lethal power level, was the reason why Danny had not ministered to Walter first. Now, moving to the Nigerian's side, Danny found him already starting to regain consciousness. Noises were coming from several directions; crowd panic might explain them all, but the noise might also reflect some kind of counterattack by the opposing agents.

An entrance to the ration dispensary was close enough that Danny took the chance of moving a few paces away from his companion and their prisoner. Opening the door and letting his gun be seen by the frightened civilians inside, he shouted, "Police emergency! We need all of you to vacate this building until further notice, and move away to the north!" As the human sheep obeyed him, Danny made an encrypted call on his dataphone, trying to reach the trio who had been inspecting the Collective Dormitory residents.

There was no answer; so Danny switched to the command channel.

"Prime Top, this is Old Badge! Track my location! Team at Kim Jong-Il Dormitory possibly down, assistance needed! Agent confirmed down at my own location also, and one suspect in custody." As soon as he received an acknowledgement, the former detective turned his attention back to Walter.

"Lieutenant, do you feel able to shoot?"

"Maybe in another minute or two," groaned Walter. "Are there hostiles coming?"

"Don't know yet, but the mission commander is on it. We're holding here till friendlies pick us up. Just be ready."

Some tense waiting followed. No one came to attack Danny and Walter, but there were sounds of gunfire from two or three places out of their sight. Danny didn't try to follow communications that were not addressed to him; he was concentrating on watching for any sign that someone in the panicky crowds outside his refuge might be about to pull a hidden weapon.

Almost half an hour passed before the call came: "Old Badge, this is Prime Top. Hostiles neutralized. Unscheduled assistance was received. See the man in orange clothing about to approach your location; he is friendly, repeat friendly."

Soon afterward, the indicated man came in sight, an Indian or Central Asian by the look of him. Danny emerged to meet him, gun in hand but not aimed. The newcomer said, "Namaste. With your permission, we'll talk inside."

When they were inside the dispensary, Danny asked, "Are you a Dacoit?"

The other nodded. "Very good. But of course, any agent of your organization would be expected to know about us. As my own agency is on cordial terms with you, and we have enemies in common, we have come to lend you a hand in stopping this act of agricultural bio-terrorism. Together, I'm sure we'll thwart them completely." He glanced at Walter. "Is your partner all right?"

"I will be in a little while," replied the Nigerian. "And thanks for joining in."

"There are enough targets for us to share," said the Dacoit. "The Babylonian and Egyptian Caliphates are not confining themselves to waging war against the African Union; they are also substantially collaborating with the Venezuelan Alliance in facilitating Aztlano aggression."

Danny sighed. "Makes me feel nostalgic for the old days, only having to contend with ordinary gangs." The veteran cop was glad that his age (considerably older than Josiah Redfern) excluded him from the ranks of regular front-line agents in the secret army; he had been brought in for this operation because of his familiarity with New York City, but now he looked forward to being safely back at home with Tashonda.
 
El Presidente Emilio Formentera of Aztlan maintained a situation room at his palace in Los Angeles. It served its logical purposes, but also featured a recreation module, with bar, gaming terminal and bed, which would rise out of the floor. He and Jessica -- who was gradually growing more accustomed to being addressed as Jacinta -- both found it stimulating to make love surrounded by incongruous data displays and command consoles.

Mere hours after the secret army, assisted by the Dacoits of India, had neutralized the soybean-blight threat in the D.S.A., Emilio held a briefing with his top officers and gang leaders. Then he sent them away, so he and "Jacinta" could have their own, more enjoyable conference. This did not _quite_ consist entirely of pleasuring each other; they actually did have some business to discuss. Particularly since Emilio had entrusted Jessica with arranging hospitality for Venezuelan and Russian military personnel who had official cause to visit Aztlan.

"How many takers lined up for the latest Solar Influence invitation?" asked Emilio, between kisses. He was referring to the Aztlano human-sacrifice custom, which had never been discontinued, only made less blatant.

"Three Venezuelans: Naval Captain Robles, Army Captain Inofrio, and Sergeant-Major Torres. Well, strictly speaking, Inofrio's a Peruvian. Six Russians: Lieutenant-Colonel Abalkin, Commanders Yegorov and Shurovskiy, and Warrant Officers Turin, Gamzatov and Osipov. They'll remember their visit with pleasure, and be positively _hoping_ for a chance to come back someday and wield the knife again."

Emilio drew her closer. "That's your way of saying that they'll need no artificial urging to act in our interests in the future."

"Exactly, querido -- proving that it was right to reserve our scant supply of influence nanobots for other subjects. The men who settled for more ordinary pleasures in our cantinas won't feel so distinctly grateful, since they can get the _same_ pleasures back home. So _those_ are the men we need more of a handle on."

"All right, I agree. Considering that we encouraged our allies to attack Alchatka, and that now they're suffering heavy casualties because of the Indian, African and Pacific intervention, we need to be smart in our efforts to preserve goodwill. And indeed, it seems to be working; Admiral Nemtsov has already promised to provide us covertly with those heavier surface-to-surface missiles I was requesting."

The prospect of inflicting more death upon defenseless victims was an aphrodisiac to Jessica. She would not let her lover do any more talking until she had -- expressed her excitement. Finally, then, she remarked: "But this doesn't take away the thrill of doing, or watching, a face-to-face killing. Which leads to my next question: how did Nora Daley succeed with the trial run of strength adjustment?"

"Fifty percent. Fidel North didn't survive the procedure, but Vitaly Khloponin came through satisfactorily. Nora was afraid that I would kill her for losing Fidel--"

Jessica grinned maliciously. "And of course, you _allowed_ her to be afraid."

"Naturalmente. But I wasn't really angry at her; I had known all along that there were hazards for the subjects, and she learned from the failure with Fidel. We can probably turn out at least four more new luchadores before it's time to hit the Enclave." The Spanish word for "wrestler" had come to be attached to the men undergoing strength enhancement.

Their talking and loving went on for awhile.... until one of the terminals announced an incoming text message for El Presidente. It was high priority: from no less a person than Emilio's sister and assistant, Lupita.

"Look at this, Jacinta! Lupita says that some of those movie-making idiots are flying in to Las Vegas; they're asking permission to select filming locations on our soil, for that new movie we heard about. The one that says how noble and good we Aztlanos are, and how everything is the fault of the usual racist Christian capitalists."

"Sounds good!" laughed Jessica. "I suggest that we welcome them, and keep them busy. Let Meg and Reed over in Washington imagine that their olive branch is accomplishing something. Time enough later to decide whether we want to let the movie-makers live."
 
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"G.p.s. deception penetrated," announced Petty Officer Lavinia Barker, who was manning one of two cyber-warfare stations in the Combat Information Center of the command-and-control ekranoplan Kookaburra, Pacific Federation Navy. "Contact A-27 at bearing 346 is three, repeat three Baba Yagas, altitude 2,050 meters, vector toward Anchorage." She was referring to drone fighter-bombers which were the Russian Federation's version of China's Monkey Clouds. The Monkey Clouds (which were still grounded, owing to China's ongoing problem with hackers) had come into being through the theft of United States technology, but the Russians in turn had paid money to China for an export version of the Monkey Cloud, on which they bestowed a name from _their_ Buddhist folklore.

And now these Russian aerial robots were on their way to attack a civilian population which included _other_ Russians.

"Three Baba Yagas, aye," replied the task force operations officer. "Weapons coordinator, per availability protocol, assign sonic and particle in order." By "availability protocol," he was referring to the constantly-updated queue of naval vessels, aircraft and shore positions data-linked in his task force's combat network. The cloud of military computers, on the Kookaburra and on units subordinated to her, had already received the same report that Petty Officer Barker had spoken to her superior, and these computers would be aware of which units possessing sonic-blast projectors and particle beams were best placed to reach the bogeys, yet not so heavily engaged with other enemies as to be unable to spare their weapons against the Baba Yagas. The system could work autonomously, and _would_ work autonomously in the absence of human input; but there was always a place for the conscious judgment of living persons, which was why the task force still _had_ humans in the C.I.C.

Missiles were not to be launched against the Baba Yagas, because the fighter drones mounted high-grade electronic countermeasures against missiles. But beam weapons would get through. The sonic blasters would fire first, because they had a wider spread, and should at the very least shake up the Baba Yagas; then, with luck, the particle beams would destroy the bogeys before they got their own ordnance away against Anchorage. Thus the judgment of the taskforce operations officer.

That officer, the ranking human in this compartment, was Commander Bert Randall (holding the temporary rank of captain, though as an admiral's aide, not the captain of this ship), his reserve commission re-activated for the first time since before the United States had fallen. The Pacific Federation's chief weakness was the immense breadth of oceanic territory it had to defend; thus, when intervening in the defense of Alchatka, the Federation's military needed _every_ warm body it could put in uniform. The intervention had a pragmatic motive, in that anyone conquering Alchatka would own the Bering Strait outright, thus controlling the Federation's best access to Arctic Ocean resources. But this did not preclude having moral and personal considerations as well.

The Moscow regime had freely agreed to the formation of the Republic of Alchatka, and was now treacherously reneging on that agreement -- an agreement in which Bert himself had played a modest role, in his capacity as a diplomatic courier. So Bert felt professionally insulted by the aggression he was now actively opposing. Besides, he had made many friends in Alchatka back during his times there; and some of those were dead by now.

Ma'at and the children had been, and still were, horribly upset about Dad having to go to war. Bert had been able to tell them truthfully that he was obligated as a reserve officer to answer the call; but truth be known, he would have volunteered if he had not been ordered to return to service. He was most heartily sick and tired of thugs and bullies being allowed to do as they pleased in this world.

When his recommended counterattack procedure succeeded in taking out the Baba Yagas before they could strike Anchorage, Bert silently asked God to forgive him for _wishing_ that those robot jets had had _live_ pilots on board, so that someone _would_ die for being on the evil side. But he certainly didn't need to be ashamed of being glad that he had helped to save civilian lives.

Internal conversations with his conscience presently had to be suspended anyway, as Kookaburra itself came under attack by Venezuelan surface craft with their own stealth technology. The secret army's swimmer-drones had eliminated much of the enemy's water-going strength, but not all of it. The next hour and a half was livelier than anything in Bert's recent memory; but in the end, the ekranoplan lost only four crewmembers.

As the unofficial chaplain of his ship, Commander Randall conducted the funeral service for the fallen. And he promised himself that his shipmates would not have died for nothing. With the help of the Indian Navy (some of whose aircraft had come to the ekranoplan's aid in this latest engagement), the good guys were gaining the advantage in this war; and Bert Randall intended to keep things that way.

He would be overjoyed when he could return to academic life; but when that day came, God willing, he would not be bashful about telling sea stories to his children.
 
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Early on the third morning after the battle in which the task force including Bert Randall had successfully interdicted the threat to Anchorage, the President and Vice-President of the Diversity States were urgently summoned out of bed. This was a simple enough matter, since they were in the same bed. They had spent the night in the Elijah Muhammad Bedroom, which in United States times had been called the Lincoln Bedroom.

Megavolt Atkinson and Reed Harrison were informed by a girl on the Rainbow House staff that there were two foreign military officers waiting to speak to them confidentially. When the alpha couple of the Fairness Party had gotten dressed and come to the Oval Office, the visitors proved to be Naval Commander Ainesh Makhuda of India and Army Colonel Tiberiu Parnescu of Poland -- the former a friend of the nameless army, the latter one of its leaders. Commander Makhuda had been wounded in one of the battles against the would-be conquerors of Alchatka, and had offered to make use of his recuperating time by being part of this not-too-strenuous errand.

"Welcome, gentlepersons, what can we do for you?" said Meg.

"You can listen to what we _have_ done for you," replied Colonel Parnescu. "Your country was under threat of having its food crops devastated by a mutated blight. This threat has been eliminated. Agents of the multi-national network I represent, with assistance from India, have done what your own security forces could not even begin to accomplish: they tracked down all of the Venezuelan and Aztlano spies involved in the scheme, and confirmed that all their specimens of the genetically modified parasite had been rounded up." Parnescu did not reveal that the Indian assistance had been in the form of Dacoits; activities of that elite special force were outside the need-to-know of anyone in the Fairness Party.

"What has become of the bio-terrorists?" asked Reed.

"By _not_ telling you that," Makhuda told him with barely-concealed scorn, "we leave you with deniability. Since you are so terrified of offending the Aztlanos who bomb you and kidnap your citizens, let it be understood that your administration played no part at all in catching the infiltrators. But I will tell you one thing: Indian mafia groups, those connected with that woman Chida Govinda who is now in prison in my country, were cooperating with the bio-warfare plot. So if any 'Rajput Racketeers' make pretended friendly overtures to you in the future, you'll know not to trust them."

"But now to bring up the principal reason for our visit to you," Parnescu interjected. "You have been relieved from a pressing danger. At the same time, the Russian-Venezuelan-Aztlano coalition which has been waging war against the Republic of Alchatka is taking heavy losses. We believe that they were hoping that Greater China would help them to at least a small extent; but as you know, China's delegation to the United Nations has condemned the invasion in no uncertain terms. The Chinese aren't fighting _against_ the aggressors, but neither are they lending any support to the aggression. Thus, the people you're so afraid of 'provoking' are becoming less and less able to threaten you."

"Meanwhile," added Makhuda, "China's own difficulties with ethnic separatists in its western provinces remain real and serious. The non-network-dependent combat aircraft which you gave them, the new-style Tu-95's and the Great Condor helicopters, are seeing actual service and proving actually useful to the Chinese. Which leaves your Texas Ranger aviators without air-combat assets."

"We can remedy this," said Parnescu. "We can provide new aircraft of the same types the Texan pilots were trained for, so that the Rangers will be re-armed, without having to ask Beijing to return the particular aircraft lent to the Chinese Aerospace Force."

Reed looked at the Romanian-Polish officer intently. "And what would you want in returm?"

"Nothing that would injure you. It has been gratifying to us that your government closed down its concentration camps and rehabilitated the survivors in your Western Enclave. Creating that new university for exiles was a commendable step as well. What we now ask is a natural next step from there: allow the exiles to create, and hold elections for, some kind of official governing council for themselves."

Before either of the trivial totalitarians could sputter indignation, Makhuda provided a qualifier: "You could still keep this council under the Enclave triumvirate's authority. That works with the Ombudsmen you appoint from among the exiles, and with the Grange volunteers who work under Forest Ranger leadership; this new step would simply give exiles more tools to manage their own daily affairs, in ways that would enhance their labor productivity."

Parnescu frowned slightly. "Madam President, Mister Vice-President, we know how heavily you really depend on your internal exiles to support your energy and agricultural infrastructures. I recall a piece of advice, whose source you disdain, but which still is good advice: 'Do not muzzle the ox that treads the grain on the threshing floor.' There's no danger of the exiles rising up in bloody revolt and killing you.... however much you pretend to believe there is such a peril. So concede to them something you can afford to concede, and we'll help you in turn. There doesn't have to be any loser in this transaction."

Meg, knowing that the two officers were only making sense, commanded herself to smile. "Very well, gentlepersons, shall we schedule a more formal meeting on this matter? Other Party officials should be included in the dialogue, to negotiate such questions as how _many_ aircraft you propose to give us."

"As long as you don't keep us waiting long," replied Parnescu, "that's perfectly reasonable."

"We're talking in terms of hours, not days," Makhuda clarified.

 
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In Winnipeg, much though they enjoyed the company of mother-side relatives, Kim's children were increasingly missing their Papa, especially little Brendan. Kim, Elizabeth and the other adults followed all the war news from Alchatka, since it had a bearing on their freedom to travel by air back to their home on the reservation. They also awaited another letter from Alipang... but the manner of its delivery was to surprise them.

Alipang's latest letter, which was devoted in large part to his progress in dealing with ex-Chief Justice Tim Govinda, was hand-carried to Maurice LeGrand's house by Dan and Chilena, whose prestige gave them greater "pull" to obtain air transportation than their "poor relations" enjoyed. Dan and Chilena allowed themselves to accept a dinner invitation, since it was already afternoon when they arrived; but they made it clear that they were not staying for long.

Over dinner, everyone got to hear Kim reading her husband's letter out loud (Alipang had kept his narrative clean enough to be read to the children, although any situation involving Samantha Ford was not likely to be altogether wholesome). Afterwards, Dan kept Wilson, Esperanza and Brendan occupied, so Chilena could hold a private conference with Kim.

Kim came right to the point: "Have you and Dan come to _take_ us back to the D.S.A. with you? We've been here long enough by now that _even_ Mom is willing to admit that Al has a right to see me again. And since you were _with_ Al to be able to take his letter, I'll bet you saw for yourselves how eager he is to have us home again."

"We _can_ take you back," replied Chilena; "everything's cleared. And yes, my brother wants you back to the millionth power. But both he and Emilio are still uneasy, still _not_ convinced that the Aztlanos won't attack the Enclave. So Dan, the old finagler, came up with a plan."

"You don't mean some way to make the Aztlanos friendlier, do you? We get to see streamcast news here; we know about Neutron Invincible and her efforts to kiss up to President Formentera with her flattering movie script. Has Dan devised some improvement on that?"

"No, he hasn't even _asked_ to be allowed to have anything to do with that. He doesn't believe the Aztlanos are interested in being nice. No, Dan's finagling is on a personal scale."

"Meaning a way to get back with Alipang but _not_ worry him?"

"That's about right. We wanted to remove Cecilia, Tommy and Irene from Casper anyway, to keep _them_ safe; Mom and Dad and Harmony and Terrance all understand that, and approve. But what Dan obtained permission for was this. We'll fly you and your kids with us back to Wyoming; you'll have two or three days with Al in Sussex. Then we'll collect you and your kids again, together with our own kids, and take you _outside_ the Enclave again. But not back to Canada. All of us will be on American soil, not far from the Enclave. Al's hostage value still holds for this. And we found a pretext for having you out there, thanks to Denise Heathcock. She's going to do a multi-part interview with the 'household collective' of the famous dentist and bear hunter. it can be made to tie in to both Dan's and my movie work, and the liberalization in the Enclave."

Kim clasped her sister-in-law's hands. "And where's the price tag for all this?"

"Well, it won't surprise you that when Denise interviews you, you must say _nothing_ but praise for the government. In addition.... Dan and I will have to act in a movie which ridicules old-time televangelists." Seeing the sudden distress on Kim's face, Chilena quickly added: "But it still doesn't _quite_ come out and say that God isn't real, or that the faith is a lie. Dan and I prayed about it, and felt a peace that this concession _didn't_ amount to being ashamed of Jesus."

"Poor Dan," Kim sighed. "I know he feels like a terrible wimp sometimes, having to make these compromises to be able to help others."

Appreciating the right-on-target sympathy, Chilena hugged Kim. "Yeah, he does. That's why I keep reminding him that if he _hadn't_ gained the good graces of our show-business hierarchy, he _wouldn't_ have been able to free Summer and Evan's children from bondage."

Kim nodded, squeezed Chilena, then stepped back. "All right, let's get with Dan and my mother and sisters, and enlarge the conference."

Half an hour later, Elizabeth told her youngest daughter, "I think this is the best arrangement you could have asked for. You'll have time with Al, then go on standby while -- hopefully -- the business with Aztlan supporting the Russians and Venezuelans gets resolved some way. And you _shouldn't_ be in any danger in the D.S.A. now."

= = = = = = = = = = = = =

Jessica Trevette didn't have as many planted operatives still loyal to her in the D.S.A. as she would have liked, but she had enough that they could help her to stir up trouble.

After some hours of assorted recreational activities shared with Lupita Formentera, Jessica sat at a terminal and composed a message. Once encrypted, it would be delivered by the best means available to her: delivered to eighteen scattered agents of hers, back in the country whose President she had been less than a year ago.

"The soybean-rust delivery having failed, Atkinson and the Presidium will of course have cancelled the plan for engineered food riots. And enough time has passed without any Islamophobia incidents, that you can no longer milk that fabricated threat to social order. But there's always another option. You can work from the very fact that the prediction of Islamophobic riots fizzled, and create scapegoats out of those who believed in the scapegoats. Have provocateurs tell proletarians that those who accused Jews and Christians of plotting to murder Muslims, were themselves the real villains. You can always take still another twist later, and bring it back to blaming the Biblicals. But for now, discontinue ALL accusations against religious types, and accuse generic, secular troublemakers of 'causing division and conflict.'

Of course, identifying WHO ARE the generic troublemakers will be at your discretion. What counts is getting Americans fighting each other again, as many proletarians brawling as possible. If the Texas Rangers are getting replenished with aircraft, then let's keep them busy supporting riot control. We don't want them concentrated and ready to defend the Enclave."

Of course, not nearly all of the mid-level officials who had previously been preparing to ignite food riots were agents for Jessica. But those who _were_ Jessica's agents, would have means to conceal from their own government the fact that they were behind the _unauthorized_ riots that would soon break out against Meg Atkinson's will.

And one of Jessica's agents was Carolyn Biao of the Secondary Healthcare Workers' Union, former supervisor of Evan Rand.
 
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Chapter 132: Fingers on the Triggers


Before making ready to travel, Chilena had one other subject to raise with Kim in private.

"Kim, has Wilson said anything surprising to you lately? Something about his personal feelings and what he wants for his future?"

Kim's oval face took on a look of alertness (not anger) to match the look of apprehension (not outright fear) on Chilena's squarish face. "Are you saying this because, perhaps, Cecilia recently said something surprising to you?"

The two sisters-in-law stared at each other for five seconds. Then, exactly simultaneously, Kim declared, "Wilson wants to marry Cecilia Ruth," and Chilena declared, "Cecilia equally wants to marry Wilson."

They stared at each other again; then Chilena added, "Cecilia told both Dan and me at the same time." Kim immediately replied, "Wilson spoke to me here; he hasn't told Al yet."

"What, was he afraid?" Knowing her brother's tender heart, Chilena conveyed genuine disbelief that Alipang would ever be harsh with any of his children.

"Wilson wasn't _afraid_ to tell his Papa, but he wanted to put off telling until he had made use of this time AWAY FROM Cecilia, so he could pray about the whole thing. And after lots of prayer, he believes it IS pleasing to God for him and Cecilia to be married -- when they're adults, of course. Are you for it, Chil?"

"Are _you_ for it?"

"I asked first."

They are not related by blood.... nor are they _siblings_ even by a legal technicality. If this is what Wilson and Cecilia want, then, whether they realize it or not, they're _also_ doing it for Al and me. What Alipang and I could never do. God give joy to them. "Yes, Kim, Dan and I are both for it. That's one way to guarantee that Cecilia and Wilson each will have a good and faithful Christian spouse." And there will be a following generation of children who are descended from Al _and_ me, with me still having Dan and Al still having Kim. We'll sort of get to have our cake and eat it too!

Tearing up, Kim gathered her sister-in-law into her arms. "I'm for it too! And if they make it through a five-year courtship, they'll have proven their commitment."
_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

Maurice LeGrand, Baeline's husband, kept a surprise in store for Kim concerning the means by which she and her children were finally to fly back from Canada to Wyoming. On the appointed morning, the surprise landed right in front of the LeGrand mansion: two brand-new Great Condor helicopters, one piloted by Texas Ranger Sergeant Saul O'Keefe, and the other by no less a personage than Ranger Vice-Commandant Jed Brickhouse. Each combat helicopter had only its one pilot on board, which meant that between them they could fit in and carry Kim, her children, and all their luggage. The connection of Kim's husband to a respected Texan aviator was, of course, the reason why the Vice-Commandant had been able to justify this detour on the tryout flight of the new choppers.

After loving goodbyes with her mother and other kinfolks, Kim requested that all of her children except Baby Peggy be allowed to fly with Jed Brickhouse, while she and Peggy rode with Saul O'Keefe; the greater part of the luggage would go in Saul's Condor. This was nominally to give Wilson, Esperanza and Brendan the interesting opportunity to speak with a very high-ranking law officer (who was _not_ a toady for the Fairness Party); but it was really to allow _Kim_ to speak privately with a Ranger who was acquainted with the Havens family.

The Great Condors leaped aloft with breathtaking speed, but then set a no-nonsense course, at their cruising speed of over 350kph, to reach Sussex before nightfall. Kim asked Saul to tell anything he could about Alipang and his parents and siblings, and about the status of Texas Ranger aviation. The sergeant had little to report on the former subject, but more to tell on the latter, even confining himself to unclassified information.

"I believe you knew that almost all the Texas Rangers were pulled out of the Enclave, to join in play-acting that they had to protect the Cantonment against an imaginary Crusader invasion. But the Rangers who had been with Emilio are finally being allowed to return to him." The big man sighed. "I suppose that the death of Darya Sinkiewicz finally seeped through the brains of Presidium leaders, to convince them that there _was_ cause to furnish air defense to the Enclave. And as you see, courtesy of Polish and Indian sponsors, we have this new replacement gunship for our use."

The survival needs of an internal exile had sharpened Kim's ability to detect unintended clues in the words uttered by authority figures. "Excuse me, did you just say gunship, _singular?_ Why not the plural?"

Saul favored her with a humorless laugh. "Good catch, Mrs. Havens. This is a matter which, stupid though it is, _would_ be classified if we had a government with any sense; but as it is, they've blurted it out on the Oneness Channel and the Collective Network already.

"When those foreign representatives offered to pay for replacement aircraft of the types we're trained with, the Main Party Presidium replayed all its usual drivel about not wanting to be 'guilty of belligerent racism.' The President and Vice-President were for accepting the aircraft, but many other voting members were opposed. At last a 'brilliant' counter-proposal was raised by somebody. The Presidium would agree to let us be given aircraft, provided that identical aircraft were _also_ given -- to the Aztlanos!"

Kim's eyes widened. "My God, what _krins!_ That defeats the _whole_ purpose of the offer!"

"It certainly is _intended_ to defeat the purpose. But Commandant Pierce, and others who were permitted to give input, judged that it could still work for the best if we at least DO get replacement aircraft. The Condor the Vice-Commandant is flying will be handed over to the Aztlanos after it lands your children in Wyoming; and two Texas Bears will go to the Aztlanos to 'balance' the two being given to Captains Finnegan and Jessup."

What Saul _didn't_ tell Kim was a detail which _was_ classified. The Texans, and the secret army that was trying to help them re-equip, were agreeing only to a letter-of-the-deal delivery of the actual _aircraft_ to the Aztec-Maoists. No ordnance would accompany the two Bears and the one Condor, and none of the combat-related software would be downloaded to any of those aircraft. The delivery, as per Brittany Pierce's stipulations, would proceed in such a way that the Texans turning over the aircraft would be safely gone before the barbarians even realized how nearly useless the things were.

"I don't _suppose_ that the Aztlanos have to give _you_ any of the fighter jets that _they_ use," growled Kim.

"Of course not, ma'am. As long as the _slightest_ trace of a remnant of a memory of the United States exists, the Fairness Party _will_ keep on beating the fluking dead horse of having to restrain _American_ militarism."

Saul regretted that he couldn't lighten Kim's worries by letting her know the trick the Rangers would be playing on their enemies. But _surely_ being back with her husband, after a delightful family visit, would lift her spirits.

And so it proved. That night, having reached home in plenty of time, Kim practically _kicked_ all of her children out of the house for a sleepover (pre-arranged for them by Alipang) at the Rochefort home. Tim Govinda was similarly farmed out to the house which had been made available to the Rands. This gave Kim and Alipang the priceless, and almost unheard of, gift of some time A-L-O-N-E! That night, and all the way till dawn, they shook their house to the foundations.

Not until morning did Kim tell Alipang about their son and their niece. Alipang's first reaction was "REALLY!" -- not with outrage, only a pure blindsided amazement. But then, he had a flicker of thought similar to what had passed through Chilena's mind. So he said, "If they practice the same discretion and purity as you and I did, they have my blessing."
 
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Dave Swims-In-Flood was as glad to see the Enclave detachment being reassembled, as he was glad NOT to be pestered any longer by Victoria Sherwin, formerly Victoria Tabor, now that she had landed a Mormon husband and settled full-time in Yellowstone Sector. Also not pestered any longer by the physician's assistant Myra Brooks at Saint Labre. Danger was ahead for the Texas Rangers, but this Cherokee-blood Ranger found physical danger a relief, after the irritation of many days of wasting his time.

Dave was one of several Rangers crowded into the Lieutenant's secure office for a meeting with Inspector Lincoln. The meeting began with Leroy Lincoln recounting, for the benefit of Rangers who had been outside the Enclave, how he had prevailed on Vice-President Harrison to green-light the provision of particle-beam weapons for the Rangers' use. Then he glanced at Emilio Vasquez, who took over from there:

"We've got four of the five beam projectors mounted on board the four-engine cargo plane, two on each side. I was able to talk Sustainable Energy into giving me a radioactive-material container which will be able to recharge all four of those weapons two times. Brianna Wallace will command that ship, with Tom Noritaka as co-pilot. Since we're still short on helos, and Fu Hai-Sheng has weapons experience, he'll be combined gunner and cognitive-radio tech; and Quincy Forsythe will be flight engineer and particle-beam recharger. That gives us one good platform for air-to-ground attack. But it will be completely vulnerable to airborne threats, and my Number 343 with the fifth particle beam won't be much better off. The Tu-95's flown by Finnegan and Jessup will have to cover a far wider area; so the only real air-to-air protection we're going to have will be our one Great Condor."

"We'll kick butt with that," Saul O'Keefe assured him. "Perlita's fitting in just fine." Saul was referring to Ranger Perlita Ramirez, one of the reinforcements gained before the temporary breakup of the Enclave detachment; she was replacing the sorely-missed Darya Sinkiewicz.

Emilio nodded. "And Glenn Souter, as our very newest and youngest chopper flyer, will have his main assignment piloting the medevac, secondary as my optional co-pilot for 343."

Leroy gestured for attention. "I've scrounged one more air-defense asset. You all know about the single railgun mount at the air-surveillance station in Frontier Plaza?"

"We do," replied Uriel Morales. "A good enough weapon, a step heavier than rail rifles, and with targetting sensors. But I learned not long ago that they only kept a token box of TEN projectiles for it!"

Leroy smiled. "That's where my scrounging comes in. Just yesterday, I paid a visit to Earth's Treasures over in Nebraska Sector, looking for any available recycled materials that might be usable for Enclave defense purposes. You guys remember that oddball Frodo Von Spock, who works there now? I should say, he DID work there."

Emilio's eyebrows rose. "What do you mean, DID work?"

"All in order. To continue, Winnie Drucker was away from the plant, and Frodo showed me around. I told him I was mainly looking for usable metal, so he told me there was some excess left over from a shipment of aluminum that had gone out. I looked in the bin he indicated.... and it contained a hundred or more aluminum slugs. My dataphone's spatial function confirmed that they were the _exact_ dimensions for ammo rounds in a rail gun like the one at Frontier Plaza."

Now Emilio's eyes narrowed. "Do you mean that Earth's Treasures had shipped out a freight load that ALL consisted of railgun ammunition?"

Leroy's own eyes returned a look of understanding. "That's what Frodo led me to understand. Everyone in this room can guess that there could have been something dirty about that shipment -- the more believable, when we're being forced to hand whole _aircraft_ over to the very gangsters who've _killed_ people of ours."

"Though the Aztlanos won't get as much benefit as they think they will," Dave put in.

"Thank God for small favors. Anyway, I commandeered the ammunition, and made a call to the Transport Police at Frontier Plaza. They should be getting in touch with you shortly, Emilio, to negotiate changing that rail gun of theirs from fixed mount to some kind of mobile platform, now that you'll have enough ammo for the weapon to do some good."

"Yes, and the new recycling plant here in Casper may be able to whip up additional slugs for us," said Emilio.

"I can help oversee that," offered Bob Chesterton. "But Leroy, what were you going to say about the space cadet?"

Leroy smiled involuntarily. "I commandeered Citizen Von Spock at the same time as I commandeered that slightly suspicious ammunition. We probably can't _prove_ that Ms. Drucker was sending railgun rounds to someone undeserving; but if something like that _should_ be the case, I felt that it could be bad for Frodo's health to be still at Earth's Treasures when she got back. So I took the liberty of judging that your air-detachment headquarters could use a new custodian."

"Why, yes, what a coincidence," Emilio told the Inspector in the most innocent of tones. "I had just been thinking that we needed someone for full-time cleanup work."

"I'm glad to leave you all in Frodo's capable hands," said Leroy; "because I'm afraid you _won't_ be in MY hands anymore. My police contingent, and Eileen O'Hennessy's contingent, have both just been summoned back to our districts."

"What for?" asked Saul.

"Something in the way of another wave of kinetic negotiations."

"Riots?" Dave muttered. "For what imaginary cause NOW?"

"No one seems to know," Leroy replied. "Bunches of civilians are starting to fight each other all over the place. Not as bad as the last major wave of riots, but at the same time it seems _more_senseless. So _many_ different reasons being alleged, that there's no pattern to it."

The air of optimism in the office faded, and Emilio frowned. "I'll bet the _timing_ is the pattern. It wouldn't be the first time that planted agents of Aztlan were able to start trouble on Diversity States soil. Anything to weaken our defense readiness." He put out his hand to clasp Leroy's. "We'll miss you here, Inspector; you've been a big help. God go with you in Kansas, and watch your back."
 
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The day after they had said goodbye to Kimberly, Wilson, Esperanza, Brendan and Peggy, another round of goodbyes came for Maurice, Baeline, Zahid and Susan. Elizabeth and Estaban Zapata with their preschooler son Javier, and Sharon and Federico Trujillo with Federico's teenage son Pepe and the boy Orlando who'd been begotten upon Sharon, were to fly back to South America. They were booked on a hypersonic airliner -- which could fly right _over_ the Diversity States, because it was not owned or operated by anyone _from_ the Diversity States, nor landing in any part of that country.

The flight to Buenos Aires would actually take less time than Kim's ride by helicopter to Wyoming. Home again after the airport farewell, Susan sat down to write a letter to her youngest sister, describing that parting. Little did she know that events would quickly make her letter out of date. For a less happy arrival awaited the Argentina-bound family members than had been Kim's lot.

All seemed normal as the high-price airliner taxied up to the terminal. But less than a minute before the boarding ramp would have been extended, a large high-boost hovercraft came barging onto the field. Racing crazily toward the hypersonic plane, it interposed itself between the plane and the terminal building. Elizabeth was at a window where she could see the machine; it bore the colors and logo of her husband's and Federico's own Chilean-based corporation. The hovercraft lifted itself above regular ground-effect altitude, coming up level with the passenger windows. Also seeing this, nine-year-old Orlando exclaimed, logically enough, "What's that doing here??"

Out of a topside hatch emerged a man whom Elizabeth had met from time to time, a man with whom Esteban had some kind of dealings: the investigative journalist Santiago Sanchez.

With some kind of data device in one hand, Sanchez remotely activated the dataphones carried by the Zapatas and the Trujillos. Four duplicates of his voice barked urgently: "Senor Zapata! Senor Trujillo! Unbuckle now, get your families moving, and come on this craft with me! Bring your carry-ons, but forget your checked luggage! This is life and death!"

Taken aback as the airline crewmembers were, things got still more out of the ordinary. Apparently hacking into the liner's controls, Santiago's device caused the disembarking door to open prematurely. In a further takeover of control, Santiago's voice now could be heard over the plane's internal speakers: "Senores y senoritas, remain in your seats another minute! No one among you will be in danger, _provided_ that I can quickly evacuate the persons I have called! It is only they who have enemies out to kill them, so the _faster_ I can remove them, the safer the rest of you will be!"

Federico Trujillo was quickest to respond to the emergency. Prodding the others along, he saw to it that they had their salvageable belongings with them. Santiago helped them, one after another, to cross onto the hovercraft.

"For God's sake, what is going on?" demanded Elizabeth, even as crewmen helped her and the others to get buckled into their new seats.

"Saving your lives is going on," replied Santiago, who then turned and handed a tablet computer to Estaban. "Senor Zapata, you may be glad now that you gave me access codes to some of your accounts. Because of this, you are NOT completely bankrupt. This tablet contains your new access codes to all money of yours that I was able to transfer out of reach of your enemies."

"You're going too fast!" protested Sharon. "What the heck IS happening?"

"A nostalgic return to the old Argentinian tradition of overthrowing governments. You're fortunate that I'm so snoopy about politics. I found about this sooner than the Hemispheric Union did. I couldn't _prevent_ the revolution, but I was in time to ensure that you--"

He was interrupted by a shuddering vibration that filled the hovercraft and jarred the bones of its passengers. "That's a sonic weapon!" exclaimed the boy Pepe.

"So it is," the journalist-cum-spy affirmed. "It's _our_ sonic weapon, the rear mount. Benito just fired it to discourage our pursuers -- men who would have murdered all of you, my friends. The latest 'people's revolution' is being conducted by, and solely for the profit and benefit of, the Venezuelan Alliance and its Aztlano friends."

"And they hate me, I suppose, because I'm a supporter of Mexico and Andreas Garcia?" said Esteban.

"Exactly. Certain friends of mine, the ones you never met, are saving other targets the same way I'm saving you. In a few minutes, I'll have us on a stealthed plane bound for Chile, where you'll be safe. But God only knows when you'll be able to set foot in Argentina again."

Federico sputtered curses, then regained control of himself. "Bless you, Senor Sanchez, we owe you a great debt."

"I'm only glad to help. And the whole _hemisphere_ is going to need help, with the neo-pagan and socialist axis pressing ahead. They're losing in Alchatka, but they made sure that the Russians absorbed most of the casualties there. And with Argentina dragged into their camp, they'll be able to make things rougher for the Mexican Alliance, which means rougher for the pobrecitos in the Diversity States."

The sonic-blast gunners on the hovercraft, both front and rear, had to shoot several more times to drive off the hit squads, as they made for their escape aircraft. Fortunately, it was intact, since their enemies had not known to whom the plane belonged. Soon, as a bewildered Javier clung to his mother, the whole party was airborne....

And Elizabeth, while grateful for being rescued, was at a loss to think how she would explain the sudden turn in her extended family's fortunes to Susan and Baeline.
 
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The same tissue-regeneration technology which had restored Brendan Hyland's missing eye last year, had now cured his battle injuries in plenty of time for him to attend an intel briefing being held in Onitsha. The invading Caliphate forces were being steadily driven out of all African Union territory; but the African Union, and the secret army whose organization overlapped it, had other concerns to keep track of.

The briefing was being given by a Nigerian Army colonel who was unfamiliar to Brendan, but known to the recently-returned Walter Ayodele. Others listening to the briefing, though not saying anything, included two men who were both officially dead, but serving in the shadows as intelligence analysts: Morton Tannenburg, former U.S. Navy officer and husband to retired spy Gloria Cervantes, and Sunki Pavatea, former jester to the ruling family of Aztlan. The latter would soon be catching a flight to China, together with an African Union official named Thomas Guduza.

"We have concluded," the Nigerian colonel was saying, "That the plot to devastate agriculture in the Diversity States, although it was a genuine attack, was above all a _diversion_ from the primary plan. The soybean-blight operation did not require many personnel, and the footsoldier-types among them could be supplied by Aztlan.... which left the Venezuelans and Bolivians free to use their expert agents in Argentina, setting up what has proven to be a painfully brilliant coup. Our failure to foresee it in time, our having to receive our first and belated warning from a _journalist,_ constitutes the first unqualified _defeat_ we have experienced since our network first became active."

An Indian Dacoit, the only other man on the platform with the colonel, now softly interjected: "You must not condemn yourselves; meaning no offense to the Roman Catholics present, NO mortal is EVER completely infallible. Not ever. My own agency was as totally surprised by the Argentinian overthrow as you were -- though to be sure, South America has never been our highest priority."

"Thank you for saying so," replied the Nigerian. "But now, damage control is the order of the day. All of you, before you leave, will be be given DNA-coded, hand-carry data files on how we are proceeding to reprogram and re-secure our communications networks, to prevent our adversaries from exploiting the contact information they will have captured from our friends in Argentina. The files will also provide, subject to need-to-know for each recipient, the names and assignments of agents who will be detailed to work _against_ the new pro-Marxist government in Buenos Aires.

"Looking elsewhere, although it has not yet been made public, the Russian Federation is about to write off its losses and concede the continuing sovereignty of the Republic of Alchatka. An announcement is expected to be made at the United Nations within the next forty-eight hours. Those of you acquainted with a certain Australian gentleman named Bert Randall will be interested to know that he is going to be receiving a couple of medals for his role in defending Alchatka.

"Sadly, another friend of ours will have to receive his medals posthumously. As you will recall from the last briefing, the last offensive effort by the Russians was to include bio-warfare with an extraordinarily lethal flesh-eating micro-organism. I am now free, but saddened, to report that when Mossad veteran Yirimyahu Kohen led the raid which destroyed the holding laboratory in Vladivostok, he himself was exposed to the flesh-eating virus before it was eradicated. They were unable to save him."

There was a moment of silence. Brendan, for his part, remembered how Yirimyahu and his Moroccan friend had assisted in the Zurich operation.

The Dacoit broke the silence with a change of subject. "My own government has managed to negotiate acceptable terms for the procedures by which we will prove to the Chinese that we are not in any degree responsible for the cyber-warfare being waged against Greater China. In what used to be called a quid pro quo, for all information we give the Chinese in this connection, they will reciprocate by giving information of interest to us, especially information that will help us against Indian mafia groups."

A smile crossed the Hindu's face. "But there are things we know that we _won't_ be telling the Chinese. A few of you in this room will be made aware, eventually, of what I have in mind." What he meant, what would be shared with top leaders in the secret army, was the fact that Vietnam, though not the originator of the cyber-warfare troubling Greater China, was watching for a chance to take advantage of Beijing's distress to declare independence.

The Nigerian colonel kept the briefing moving ahead, with further discussion of China's difficulties. Enough damage had been done to Chinese robotic assets that relatively-obsolete equipment like the aircraft received from the Diversity States really _was_ proving needed and valuable.

This line of discourse prompted memories for Brendan, including the visit which he and the late Etienne LaClede had paid to the Orbital Palace. Lifting his hand suddenly, he asked the colonel: "What about the Chinese space station? There have already been two attempts to capture their Moon colony, a lot farther away; is any attack anticipated against their orbiting hotel?"

"We know of none. But no doubt the possibility has already occurred to the Chinese."
 
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On board The Orbital Palace, General Yang Pang-Zhu had in fact instituted a regimen of constant proactive efforts to detect any kind of sabotage, be it in the computer systems or otherwise. Although the government of the Central Asian Caliphate remained on fairly good terms with Greater China, citizens of that Caliphate were currently barred from visiting the space station, lest one of them, perhaps unknowingly, might be carrying nanobots that could attack the station's control apparatus. And Aerospace Force technicians, their numbers reinforced from Earthside, carried on redundant inspections, interior and exterior, around the clock.

All of this cautionary activity.... was barely enough.

As the young woman called Amethyst sat at a systems-monitoring console, she was joined by safety guard Nyunt Zehar, who looked over her shoulder and asked, "Running routine diagnostics again?"

"Yes, and I just messaged the shift supervisor that I'm seeing something odd."

"A diagnostic showing a fault?"

"No, all indications normal, but the diagnostics aren't quite _happening_ in their usual _sequence_ following the list of station components."

"Let me have a look...." Nyunt watched the appearing lines of data which announced that this antenna, that water-reclamation tank, and so on, were functioning properly. It took four seconds for him to recognize the discrepancy: no diagnostics were being shown for any of the airlocks. Upon realizing this, it took the big Burmese just one more second to hit the console's top-priority emergency-warning switch.

A whooping alarm sounded in every part of The Orbital Palace, followed by Nyunt's voice enunciating his clearest Mandarin Chinese, with the communications system automatically translating him into Spanish and English as well:

"Attention, all persons on the station! Emergency alert! (Attention, all persons on the station! Emergency alert! Attention, all persons on the station! Emergency alert!) Atmosphere loss drill! (Atmosphere loss drill! Atmosphere loss drill!) Persons in living quarters, activate local seals! (Persons in living quarters, activate local seals! Persons in living quarters, activate local seals!) Persons in public areas, follow instructions of safety guards! (Persons in public areas, follow instructions of safety guards! Persons in public areas, follow instructions of safety guards!) Life-support chambers are available in all sections! (Life-support chambers are available in all sections! Life-support chambers are available in all sections!) Go only where you are directed! (Go only where you are directed! Go only where you are directed!) Do not look for companions, leave that to station personnel! (Do not look for companions, leave that to station personnel! Do not look for companions, leave that to station personnel!) Follow orders of safety guards! (Follow orders of safety guards! Follow orders of safety guards!)"

Nyunt and Amethyst, like other station technical personnel working on the inside, were wearing what they called rescue suits: nanotechnic outfits which could be made airtight in an instant by a nanobot-controlled alteration in the fabric's consistency. Only the wearer's head was uncovered, and helmet-airtank combinations were kept available at all workstations in greater numbers than the maximum need. Once donned and sealed, the helmet rig would provide the wearer with twenty minutes' worth of oxygen under exertion, over half an hour if at rest. Amethyst had grabbed helmets for herself and the Burmese as soon as she understood what he was announcing; less than seven seconds after Nyunt completed his announcement, both of them were ready to close their helmets at once if necessary. Even before they put their visors down, the helmet intercoms could receive any instructions coming from their superiors.

If the shift supervisor had been in any doubt about the meaning of Amethyst's reported discrepancy, he was enlightened rapidly enough by Nyunt's correct emergency announcement. The noises of terrified people, but also the sounds of efficient reaction to danger, were already filling the station. The latter kind of sound included automated airtight doors closing off each major section from its neighbors. (Under the present conditions of robotic machinery being suspect, these doors would also be double-secured by manual means.) With no time to wish each other luck, Nyunt and Amethyst were shortly directed to separate locations to assist in shepherding the civilians to the life-support chambers. It would be for the technicians in full-capability spacesuits to search for the signs of presumed sabotage in the airlocks.

They could not find the sabotage as rapidly as the sabotage found them. Less than three minutes after Nyunt had completed his warning, every airlock on the whole station simultaneously blew open, inner and outer doors together. Several observation windows in the wheel of the station were also blown out of their frames.

It had not been enough time for every vulnerable human being on the station to get inside an airtight shelter; but General Yang, thinking ahead, had devised an added lifesaving measure. With the blasting open of each airlock, a sturdy net was automatically deployed over each of the openings. There were nets for the large windows also. This contraption could not stop the air from escaping, but it caught and stopped any _person_ beginning to be sucked out into space. Then, before the outrushing atmosphere could give way to complete vacuum, the rescue-suited safety guards could grab the civilians and haul them to those life-support chambers which were kept open longest against precisely such a need.

The Chinese tradition of long-range advance planning proved its value on this day. Many of The Orbital Palace's guests suffered from decompression trauma, but not one of them perished. And with watchstanders in Beijing keeping current on the station's condition, rescue spacecraft (which had stand-alone support systems unaffected by China's plague of cyber-sabotage) would reach the station before the air supply in the sealed shelters ran out. The Indian space station would also send its own on-call spaceship to help as soon as the Indian crew became aware of the catastrophe.

Yet no amount of planning could eliminate the quirks of fate. Just one person on the space station did perish, and not by decompression and asphyxiation. This man had been in a food-service area out on the station's rim when the alarm was given, and (though not having a rescue suit on) had been personally supervising the escape to shelter of the diners and workers there, getting them all out ahead of himself... when a window had flown off into space, the roaring wind had yanked a microwave oven loose from its moorings, and the appliance had flown straight at the officer while he was preoccupied getting the last few bewildered restaurant customers moving in the direction they needed to go. No one else was struck by the flying oven, but it broke the neck.....of General Yang, who, however strange the manner of his passing, died in the line of duty.

The Greater Chinese Aerospace Force was left not only to mourn the passing of a brave officer, but also to seethe in angry frustration at not being able to determine just _how_ the atmosphere-containment control systems of The Orbital Palace had been so expertly and viciously hacked. This, however, did not prevent Nyunt, Amethyst and other station personnel from being honored along with the late Yang Pang-Zhu for their meritorious actions.
 
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Chapter 133: Run, Hide, Cringe... or Stand

"The fact that we contribute to our nation's security," said the oversized hologram of the late Yang Pang-Zhu, "does not release us from the responsibility to uphold the honor of Chinese civilization in all of our dealings with non-Chinese." This was a playback of the speech the General had given to all his personnel when The Orbital Palace had been about to receive its first paying visitors. "The ancient obligation of a host to his guest remains real and vital. Those who face the hazards of outer space to stay with us will be entrusting their lives into our hands; and whether we happen to like them personally or not, their trust binds us in a duty to preserve their lives as if they were our own relatives."

The holorecording stopped here, and a uniformed man took the podium of the United Nations General Assembly. He was Aerospace Force Colonel Hsiao Luo-Sher, who had been a valued associate of the deceased General -- and who had been chosen by Beijing to succeed Yang in command of the space station, once it was deemed safe to reactivate it.

Reltseotu Smith, Benito Salazar, and other Diversity States diplomatic figures, watched attentively from their section of the assembly hall. This gathering was not being streamcast live; that is, not in any officially-approved fashion. Reltseotu's body, still unknown to her, still contained the tracking device which the secret army had implanted while she had been in Uganda, and this device was enabling members of that covert force to hear everything she heard.

"Respected delegates!" Colonel Hsiao began. "Although Greater China is known as the world's leading military power, let it be remembered that my patron and mentor, Yang Pang-Zhu, did not die in the course of _taking_ anyone's life; he died _saving_ lives, and these the lives mostly of non-Chinese. In that benign spirit which he displayed to his last breath, my government is undertaking a plan which, while working _against_ the skulking enemy who sabotaged our space station, will yet show consideration for the humanity of others.

"The intelligence services of some of your governments have already been informed, as a courtesy, of what we intend; I shall now announce it openly. We already know that the extreme separatist faction in the Central Asian Caliphate represents at least one component of the force waging asymmetrical warfare against Greater China...."

At these words, Benito Salazar cast a glance toward the Central Asian Caliphate's delegation. They did not appear overly worried, and Hsiao's very next words explained why:

"The lawful government of that Caliphate has rendered us cooperation to our satisfaction in this matter; and although certain changes in our posture toward them are unavoidable, we do not hold them blameworthy for the acts of terror and sabotage in western China and in space. Yet the menace _does_ exist; and the Islamic radicals in question are unlikely to be the _only_ parties involved.

"Those who follow events in the Western Hemisphere will recall what has gone on in the Republic of Aztlan during the past fifteen months." When he said this, the Colonel faced toward a holorecorder array which was securely linked to the Bi-Continental Assembly of the Western Hemisphere Union; for despite the timezone difference being inconvenient for people in the Americas, the Hemispheric Union was also in session, following the discussion in its parent organization.

"The previous Aztlano administration," Hsiao continued, "collaborated recklessly with Triad gangsters, and with adventurists from the Venezuelan Alliance, in ways contrary to the interests of my nation. Such combinations are the way of the world in our time, and must be assumed to exist in the current situation. Since the terrorists who murdered General Yang are plainly callous to people's lives _regardless_ of nationality, it is in the best interests of all of you that they should be rooted out. Accordingly, steps are _now_ going to be taken to find information.

"Lieutenant-Colonel Yang Sung-Kuo of Internal Affairs, whom all of you know as one who looks out for your safety, has deployed a strong force to interdict all exits from this building. No one _can_ depart this building until our business is complete."

Benito and Reltseotu looked at each other; neither of them had any idea of what was coming next. But a hint was given by the appearance of ten of Lieutenant-Colonel Yang's troopers, marching in to stand alongside the speaker. Each was carrying a trank rifle, and each also had a flechette pistol.

"Some of you now seated here may possibly possess knowledge which could assist us in catching the terrorists. You are accustomed to enjoying a diplomatic immunity that shields you from ever being questioned; but history assures us that diplomatic immunity has never been a mathematical absolute. All of you_will_ be questioned, under brainwave lie-detection."

An angry roar began, but was cut short when Hsiao Luo-Sher drew his own sidearm and fired three shots into the air (well aimed, so as not to hit any light fixtures).

"I said that we would show consideration for your humanity, and I meant it. None of you will be interrogated by _Chinese_ authorities; and the Muslims among you will not be subjected to interrogation by non-Muslims. Four governments which have peaceful relations with my own government have agreed to conduct the brain-scan sessions. Each person in this Assembly will be permitted to choose which government interrogates him or her: the government of India, the government of Australia, the government of Morocco, or the government of the Parthian Republic. My own government has agreed to accept without challenge the results obtained by our colleagues.

"Random selection -- literally by drawing names from a bowl, in view of the computer-network problems we face -- will decide who goes first. But we will so arrange it that no country's delegation has all its members out being questioned at the same time. Thus, the normal business of the General Assembly can, and shall, continue. The Secretary-General, notified in advance of this proceeding, has recommended that, during the period in which the interrogations are occurring, it might be best for everyone to use the time to listen in on deliberations in the Bi-Continental Assembly, since no one there is being interrogated at present...."
 
Just as the Bi-Continental Assembly in Caracas had a space reserved for projecting the holographic imagery from Beijing, so the United Nations General Assembly was prepared to show holographic imagery from the headquarters of the Western Hemisphere Union. When the U.N. Secretary-General gave the okay for the Hemispheric Union to claim the attention of U.N. delegates, the Aztlano delegation demanded the privilege of speaking first. The current Secretary-General of the Hemispheric Union was a Bolivian pagan priestess.... and was one of the past guests of the Formenteras who had been allowed to try her hand at performing a human sacrifice on an Altar of Solar Influence. She accordingly recognized the Aztlano Ambassador to the H.U.: Ricardo Formentera, second son of the downfallen Tonio Formentera.

"You have heard the honorable Chinese officer at the U.N. speaking of how my late father was drawn into a connection with the Triads," Ricardo began. "My family can understand, painful though it is to remember, why Greater China saw the need to remove my father from power. But the Chinese cannot have imagined that any wider corruption was prevalent, or they would not have allowed my brother Emilio to succeed to our Presidency. And even my father would never have let himself be pressured into agreements with the Triads, if he had not been driven to desperation by the racist hostility of the bigoted capitalist Christian Anglos of the Diversity States, whose presence poisons the great Bronze Continent!"

He paused to acknowledge applause from delegations affiliated with the Venezuelan Alliance and the Caribbean Union, then continued: "No one here can possibly have forgotten the occasions on which Diversity States aircraft attempted to launch missiles carrying weaponized pathogens into our territory. Nor will it be forgotten how some of those Anglos viciously lied that my nation practiced HUMAN SACRIFICE!

"And now there is yet another outrage to be listed. My government, alarmed by the aggressive militarism of the Alchatkan Republic, attempted to purchase military aircraft from a consortium of European and African suppliers. The Atkinson administration pretended to make a conciliatory gesture by offering to facilitate the delivery of the aircraft. But scarcely had their fascistic Texas Rangers left the aircraft in question at one of our airfields, before we discovered that the airframes contained neither any weapons, nor the targeting systems for weapons! Can any more obvious proof be required of the treachery and greed of the white supremacists controlling the Rainbow House?"

Ricardo's timing in referring to "white supremacists" was unfortunate for his purposes, because even as he said that part, the _black_ President of the Diversity States, Megavolt Atkinson, was entering the Bi-Continental Assembly. Her unscheduled arrival caused enough of a stir that Ricardo paused in his scripted speech... which had really been written for him by his considerably smarter sister Lupita. Meg Atkinson did not immediately attempt to address the crowd, but hurried to where Vibol Ritisak sat with his aides, including Vonetta Ashford and David Redfern.

"Please tell me that you haven't uttered any warlike threats yet!" Meg stage-whispered to Vibol.

"No chance yet, even if I wanted to," replied the Cambodian-American.

"Good. Now, let me deliver our initial response," she told him. "I _was_ our Secretary of State before I was President, after all."
 
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President Atkinson and the Bolivian priestess, both being "non-breeders," had seen each other socially in Meg's days as a Secretary of State; so Meg had no difficulty obtaining approval to speak.

"Honorable Secretary-General, and esteemed colleagues: remembering as you do the shameful fact that the old United States was the cause, the foundation, and the leading promoter of racism and hatred worldwide, I rely on you to understand what a task the Fairness Party has had to undertake. Five years and a few months is not enough time to eradicate ALL traces of the bourgeois corporate white-supremacist system that existed before--"

She had to choke herself off then, because she had been about to mention Jessica Trevette; and Ms. Trevette had been proven, before her supposed demise, to have been a party to the same ritual murders that Ricardo Formentera was claiming never even happened at all. To mention the previous D.S. President just now, even in the context of demonizing America, would be to imply that Ricardo was the liar that everyone in the chamber already knew he was.

And that would hardly suit the Fairness Party's appeasement policy.

So Megavolt Atkinson resumed with a slight revision: "--that existed before the great victory for economic justice was achieved. My government has to this day been trying to make amends for the exploitation and bigotry which the United States, alone and uniquely, inflicted upon an otherwise progressive and civilized world; but since there is no such thing as divine intervention, we cannot complete the whole job inside of six years. Therefore, allow me to make a daring offer to demonstrate our good faith. I expect by this means to compensate our bronze neighbors for the many egregious provocations which they have endured so patiently. This offer will be of economic benefit to the People's Aztec-Maoist Republic, and will further weaken the position of the minority of white supremacist neo-Nazis in our own midst...."

David had sidled close to Ambassador Ritisak, and now held a tablet computer in front of him with the typed words: DO YOU KNOW WHAT SHE'S GOING TO OFFER? Vibol Ritisak only shook his head. Meg Atkinson went on:

"My country's Party Presidium is well aware of how Aztlan's loyal and productive workers have been unfairly hampered in economic development by the departure from their territory of anti-progressive, un-mutual capitalists who refused to stay in Aztlan and contribute their fair share to the new order there. Accordingly, I will submit to the Presidium a proposal... that we cede to Aztlan an area of land comprising not less than two-thirds of what is now our Great Plains Federal District. And with the land, I will propose that we recruit five hundred Diversity States citizens who possess high-level industrial and professional qualifications, and place them under Aztec-Maoist supervision, to assist the great Aztlano people in improving their standard of living -- a standard of living which of course would be much higher now if not for the malice and greed of Hispanophobic racists. The media experts from the D.S.A. who are currently IN Aztlan, can serve as liaison facilitators to expedite the arrangements for this act of reparations."

She turned to Vibol Ritisak, her face wearing the expression of one who reckoned that she had just eaned sainthood. "Ambassador Ritisak, do you have anything to add?"

Vibol whispered to Vonetta, "Keep out of this, and keep David out of it." Then he stood up.

"Yes, Citizen President, I do have something to say, thank you.

"It is true that racism continues to do great harm even in our modern world." He fixed his eyes on Ricardo Formentera. "Therefore, I invite all delegates to consider what OTHER THAN racism can motivate a government to make endless use of the slogan--" and he pointed at Ricardo; "--Para la raza todo, afuera de la raza nada!"

Ambassador Formentera was as taken aback as Count Dracula would be in an old-time movie if suddenly confronted with a crucifix. Meg Atkinson, and the pro-Aztlano Secretary-General, were almost equally stunned. Vibol used this momentary stunning to continued unchecked:

"EVERY person in this chamber, with no exceptions, is fully aware that EVERY allegation the Formentera regime ever made of 'provocation' from the Diversity States has been a fabricated and self-serving lie. Aztlan, and ONLY Aztlan, has in fact been the sole instigator of any and every military incident between our two nations. Many of you here have pretended not to know this, because it was a path of least resistance. But I say it to your faces: all of you KNOW that Aztlan is the aggressor! And since my own government has not even the backbone to ask for help against the aggression, I resign my Ambassadorship right now, and request asylum in Mexico!"

David and Vonetta had never conceived of any such possibility; but when they saw two men from the Mexican delegation striding toward Vibol with eyes fixed on him in a friendly manner, it became apparent that someone HAD been expecting it.
 
Meg Atkinson stared in disbelief as the Mexican men took Vibol by the arms in a gentle fashion and led him toward their section. Her pacifistic philosophy rendered her as unready mentally, as she was unable physically, to do anything to halt the defection. She did, however, manage to squawk, "We have your bioproduct!"

Vibol replied over his shoulder, "No, you don't! Kolab's been with my friends for the past two hours!"

As ineffectual babbling erupted in the Bi-Continental Assembly, Meg wrote off Ambassador Ritisak and turned to the eldest woman among his assistants. "Dierdra Heigl! You are now Acting Ambassador!" The woman she thus addressed was the same staffer who had long performed the thankless task of trying to keep make-believe diplomats like Samantha Ford on task when in Caracas. Dierdra Heigl plunged into a heroic effort to carry on the usual obsequious talk about how awful white supremacists were... while the white not-at-all supremacist David Redfern whispered in the ear of his black lover:

"What do we owe to these looshes? Let's join Vibol and Kolab!"

Vonetta Ashford gawked. "But -- my career!"

"What career? _Apologizing_ for our country _being_ attacked? This is our--"

A thick finger tapped his shoulder, the finger of his President. "Citizen Fo-- I mean Redfern, stop chatting! We need a united front with the new Ambassador, in order to defuse--"

David pushed her away, not even looking at her. "Vonetta, I want you with me, but with or without you..." He turned and lunged in the direction his boss had just gone, shouting, "Viva Mexico!"

Meg, Dierdra, and what was left of the ambassadorial staff did their own gawking, as Vonetta hurled herself after David, shouting, "Viva el amor!"

Ricardo Formentera visibly decided to let this unexpected scene play itself out. As with all Fairness Party dignitaries, Dierdra was more prepared to chew out her own people than to take any stand against a foreign aggressor; so she yelled across the chamber, "I demand that those un-mutual individuals return to their duties!"

Mexico's own H.U. Ambassador replied on behalf of Vibol, David and Vonetta: "Persons wishing to become subjects to the Fairness Party are able to, though I have not seen any great rush. Persons wishing to _leave_ it are welcome in my country if they respect our laws."

Vonetta, having overcome her hesitancy, swung all the way to boldness. Borrowing the Mexican Ambassador's microphone, she shouted, "I'm _glad_ to leave the Diversity States, Megavolt Atkinson! Your Party _murdered_ my parents and brother, and Sammy's wife Lacey!" She whipped around to face Ricardo Formentera, adding, "But _your_ government's even _worse!_ You've kidnapped hundreds of D.S. citizens to be slaves, and _everyone_ here knows it!"

This made the uproar considerably more serious. But a shrill tone broke through it: a tone recognized by all present as an attention signal over the comms link with the U.N. General Assembly.

Reltseotu Smith became visible in the hologram feed, saying, "The General Assembly asks the Bi-Continental Assembly to come to order! It has been brought to our attention that African Union officials have something to submit with relevance to the Western Hemisphere!"

Reltseotu's place was taken by a very tall black man, who introduced himself: "Delegates to the Hemispheric Union, I am Thomas Guduza, a special coordinator for the African Union. A former resident of the People's Aztec-Maoist Republic of Aztlan is among us now: someone who survived a seagoing mishap, and was rescued by Polish sailors. I ask all of you to listen to him." Guduza turned to one side and beckoned while retreating, whereupon another man entered the holographic space. This man had the look of a Native American... and the sight of him affected the Aztlano Ambassador like the sight of a ghost.

"Honorable diplomats, my name is Sunki Pavatea, and I was formerly in the employ of the Formentera family. I can attest -- in fact, I have already been proven by brain-scan to be truthful on this point -- that both Emilio _and_ Ricardo Formentera are as guilty of barbarous human sacrifice as their father was! It is my lasting shame that I was powerless to put a stop to this practice, but I now denounce it! The Republic of Aztlan is nothing but a gang of murderers, and any accusation brought against it, by the Diversity States or anyone else, can only be wrong by _not_ being condemnatory _enough!_ Persons other than myself have gathered more than sufficient proof that Aztlan, while not the prime mover in the illegal coup that has overthrown the Argentinian government, is in accord with the Venezuelan Alliance for this and other criminal ventures. Let the Diversity States President _stop_ apologizing to predators, and _start_ accepting help to defend her country against them!"

The ex-jester in his turn was supplanted in the holo-transmission by China's Colonel Hsiao. "I am authorized to say this on behalf of the Greater Chinese government: although we are too preoccupied for the foreseeable future to interfere in Western Hemisphere politics, Beijing officially protests the unlawful revolution in Argentina, _and_ condemns the human-rights abuses persisting in Aztlan."

During the pandemonium that was redoubled when the holographic link was disconnected, Vibol Ritisak patted the shoulders of the two young aides who had joined him in defecting. Vonetta kissed David rather more passionately than was usual inside the Bi-Continental Assembly building, and told him, "I love you, David! You woke up something in me, something like the memory of standing for what's right!"

"Ambassador Ritisak deserves the credit," David answered her. "If he hadn't made the move, I never would have had the nerve." The very act of saying such a thing made the youth recall the gallant soldier who was his biological father. David had never had voice contact with Josiah Redfern in his whole time working in Caracas, only a few text exchanges -- and had never disclosed his sexual relationship with Vonetta. But _today's_ events might contain something Josiah _would_ be pleased to hear.

Vonetta's loving voice turned his attention back to the immediate moment. "Vibol's a great man, but he isn't the man I intend to marry."

"Huh? What?"

"You heard me! You're over the age of consent in most countries now, including Mexico! I love you, and I want to marry you!"

A memory of Osmawani Jalil flickered in David's mind; but he was sure she had meant it about being happy for him if he found something permanent.

David and Vonetta no longer had any diplomatic position anyway; so their attention remained riveted on each other while the Earth-Mother priestess fought to restore order. The lovers continued oblivious while Meg Atkinson and the Diversity States delegation issued a meaningless "expression of concern" about something or other, and all the remaining member nations of the Mexican Alliance joined in issuing a proposal that the seat of the Hemispheric Union be removed from Venezuela -- the new location to be in some place _other_ than Aztlan.
 
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Osmawani, for her part, was finding contentment of a sort as the new producer for the Blue Moon Stun-Jazz Orchestra. They had held a concert on Wednesday evening, September 2. Omnipotence Cortez, continuing to use the fragmentary approach which David had urged, was able to do plenty of singing overall, and could taste the prospect of celebrity. With this in view, she quietly encouraged the completely false rumors about herself and Osmawani that were getting started among government personnel who favored "relational diversity."

Two other women who _were_ dedicated "non-breeders" had a reunion that Friday: Samantha Ford and Hydrogen Forbes. Because Tim Govinda was showing remarkable evidence of mental improvement in the kindly company of the Rand family, Samantha had decided that she could now part ways with the former Chief Justice and yet still take the credit for his new rationality. Martina Caldwell the police chaplain had been able to linger a few extra days before departing to rejoin Eileen O'Hennessy's district-police contingent which had been withdrawn from North Dakota Sector; thus, Martina hosted one final segment of In The Enclave Today, in which (with a few video clips of Tim, but no personal appearance in which he might have contradicted the diplomat-actress about what had really happened) Samantha was able to boast shamelessly about "her" marvellous achievement. Immediately after this, the former Ambassador-At-Large eagerly sought the action-movie actress, who was also seeking her with equal eagerness.

Early on in their exuberant reunion, Hydrogen informed Samantha, "Practically all the movie people have cleared out; but Zimmo and a few crew people are still here. Zimmo wants to make one more daring, edgy movie inside the Enclave, with you and me as the only flesh-and-blood actors; all other characters will be computer-generated."

Drawing Hydrogen closer to her, Samantha replied, "I'll be delighted to do that with you; still more so if Zimmo can use Josiah's image again, and make him look _really_ ridiculous this time!"

The other woman beamed. "I'm sure he'll be glad to oblige. But we can talk about it more _after_ we enjoy our weekend..."

At some point on Sunday, word reached Samantha that her son had joined two other State Department officials in defecting to Mexico. She was in some small danger of feeling bad about this; but Hydrogen insistently reminded her that her only duty was to herself and her own karma. So Samantha shrugged off the news, and turned her mind back to immediate amusements.

= = = = = = = = = = = = = =

On that same Sunday, the first Sunday since Kim's return to Wyoming, Sussex Gospel Church was at standing room only. The extra crowding was partly due to numerous Grange volunteers, including Gerbil Sunderberg, and partly due to a number of laborers recently discharged from the Yellowstone geothermal project. These had not been _fired;_ it was just that, with _two_ complete geothermal power stations now operational, the Department of Sustainable Energy had postponed further construction for awhile. Alipang and other Sussex residents asked these workers many questions before and after the worship service.

_During_ the service, Peter Ionesco preached about God's order in creation. He cited various Bible passages about nature, and also said: "Contrary to what some think of us Biblicals, I don't 'hate' anyone for believing that macro-evolution has occurred in nature. I don't even say that they are necessarily atheists. But it remains true that no one in this world has _ever_ directly witnessed any animal, under natural conditions, giving birth to offspring which were so distinctly mutated that it was _impossible_ for the offspring to breed with the parent generation." Pastor Ionesco's words were not blatantly aimed at Tim Govinda, who was there with the Rands; but Summer Rand could tell that the long-deranged boy was absorbing the message about God, not the imagination of mortals, being in command of the biological world.

When the congregation was about to be dismissed, Alipang rose first and asked leave to make an announcement. When Pastor Ionesco agreed, Alipang went to the front with Kim, Wilson, Esperanza, Brendan, and (in Kim's arms) Baby Peggy.

"Friends," Alipang began, "we want everyone here to know something directly from us, before it has any chance to be distorted by the filters of rumor. You all know, or the adults know, what violence the regime has done to the very concepts of marriage and family; but what you are about to hear, in my own prayerful conviction and belief, is an event which _favors_ Biblical values for love and home-building. What our firstborn son is about to tell you all, has the _total_ approval and support of Kim and myself, and also of the parents of the other person most urgently concerned. Wilson?"

"Papa, Mother, I love you so much!" Wilson fiercely hugged both of his parents, then addressed the church. "Friends, because my Aunt Chilena and Uncle Dan have never been inside the Enclave until recently, some of you may not be clear on a certain point of fact. My Papa and Aunt Chilena are siblings only by adoption; because of this, my cousin Cecilia Ruth and I are likewise NOT related by blood. Based on the long friendship we enjoyed as children, and on our discovering how much we still have in common where faith and a view of life are concerned..... Ceciila and I want every friend of ours to know.... that we are now officially _courting,_ seeking God's will for an eventual _marriage_ between us.

"I wish Cousin Cecilia could have been here for this, but her immediate family has been compelled to depart the Enclave. Cecilia is aware that I am telling the truth to you all. I ask you all to pray for us; and frankly, if we _survive_ the dangers now hanging over us all, I will be inclined to perceive that as _confirmation_ that God is pleased for me to marry Cecilia when we are adults."
_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

The Tomisaburos were there also. Lucinda received Wilson's news with astonishment, Adrienne with little comprehension, and Victor with a gently sad resignation (which was also true of Gustave Rochefort). Peter Tomisaburo simply had no time to give any thought to the love lives of teens. In keeping with his deep-cover espionage role for Greater China, gathered all information he could from the geothermal-project workers. But the facts about improvements to America's power grid were to fade into the background....

....when the spy stepped outdoors, and his nanotechnically augmented eyesight recognized a call from his superiors. As before, any hostile cryptologist who detected those radio waves would be misled by trying to make sense of the signals themselves plus the changes of frequency -- when in fact, _nothing_ about the transmissions mattered except the simple on-off sequence which was producing a Morse-like communication. The content of what the intelligence service told him -- having to spread it over time, lest it become too obvious that the Enclave agent was watching the sky -- was this:

We are able to communicate with you securely because this method can be done entirely by analog means. Damage to computer networks continues, even affecting satellites. But manned spacecraft in orbit have been able to take up much of the slack. By this means, along with other intelligence assets, we have determined that the Aztlanos have procured ten or more surface-to-surface missiles, probably of Babylonian Caliphate origin, with powerful conventional-explosive warheads. All these missiles have been smuggled into Thompson Canyon, and will be fired at targets in the Enclave. Rapid City for certain. Probably not any power stations, since Aztlan wants the electrical grid intact for its own use; but they may want to destroy the substations that pass power out of the Enclave to supply the D.S.A.'s needs generally.

We cannot intervene militarily due to our present difficulties; but we are about to contact the Enclave triumvirate to warn them of their danger. We are also going to warn the Texas Rangers. Not the government in Washington, they are useless. They exiled most of their people with any brains. It follows that Enclave residents are the very people needed to salvage something from the chaos that is about to occur. You are instructed to act independently from this point, doing all you can to save the lives of skilled and intelligent persons among the people around you. You are authorized, in case of great need, to reveal your agent status to Americans, since the status quo in America is clearly about to end. Probably no more instructions to you until we see new developments. Good luck.

Peter Tomisaburo knew who was going to be the first person he told about his secret identity: his wife Lucinda. He surprised himself with his own sincerity when he prayed that she wouldn't be enraged at him for deceiving her all these years.

= = = = = = = = = = = = = =

In Dallas, two hours after Peter Tomisaburo had been briefed, Monica Sotero and her teenage son Miguel were snatched out of their house by friendly kidnappers: a group of armed Rangers led by Zella Greenlee. Only after they were inside a vehicle shielded against spy devices did Zella tell Monica: "The balloon's going up; Aztlan's about to attempt a Pearl Harbor! Still not _quite_ certain that we'll declare independence, but we _absolutely_ need to keep _you_ safe."
 
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On the same day, in Detroit, a yelling all-male crowd gathered in front of Harun Fuad (formerly Henry Ford) Hospital. Many brandished copies of the Koran in the air -- easy to do, since the Fairness Party had _never_ imposed any such limitations on Korans as on Bibles. Others carried hand-lettered signs with such slogans as "Death to the Canadian Crusaders!" and "The Northward Jihad Has Only Begun!"

Doctor Hassan Tamir knew what had set off their hair-trigger tempers. The Canadian government had taken one step that _wasn't_ limp-wristed: in recognition of the way the disbanded Mounties had helped to combat the recent wave of terrorism instigated by infiltrators from the Caliphates, the Canadian Parliament had hurried through a legislative bill re-activating the Mounted Police. And since residents of the Great Lakes Muslim Cantonment considered themselves free to move between the D.S. and Canadian sides at will, the revived Mounties had decided that this worked _both_ ways. Well-equipped, experienced Mounties, more than willing to show the world that they were back, had penetrated almost as far south as the former Indiana state line, raiding Cantonment hideouts of the terror instigators, killing some and capturing many. The raids had been smart and surgical; not even one innocent civilian had perished. Nor had any Mounties.

Doctor Tamir knew something else. The crowd that watched him as he stood before the main entrance of the hospital was of course furious that infidels had so easily defeated warriors of the Prophet; but most of these men were not entirely stupid. However they might publicly deny it, they truly did realize what a good deal they had gotten from the Fairness Party starting in 2021. They wanted to vent their prideful anger, but they _didn't_ want to provoke, for instance, the Dacoits of India (who were on good terms with Canada) to come into the Cantonment and make the Mountie raids look like a friendly soccer match.

Which led to the third thing that Doctor Tamir knew, though it still seemed unreal to him. Hassan Tamir knew that he himself, right now in this place, was the single strongest voice for moderation that remained in the Cantonment. Hundreds of the raging men facing him had personally been his patients, and their wives and daughters had been treated by his wife Gazbiyya. They respected him, and would listen if he could propose a course of collective action which _neither_ brought mass death upon them, _nor_ increased their humiliation.

So Doctor Tamir spoke of their duty to uphold the honor of Islam by proving themselves civilized. Surely, he told them, it must be possible to prevent future outside incursions by demonstrating that the Cantonment's Purity Warriors _weren't_ collaborators with terror groups. This line of argument actually _caused_ some fighting on the spot: between Tamir's supporters and his critics. But as kismet would have it, the men favoring Tamir prevailed.

Then came the _real_ surprise. A teacher from one of Detroit's mosques, possibly the oldest man present in the crowd, made his way to the front and said to the physician, "Hassan ben-Amahl Tamir! If _you_ were our Imam-Governor, we would _know_ that we had a leader with our well-being in his heart!" This ignited wild cheering.

When he could make himself heard, Tamir called out, "Friends, I do not wish to act from selfish ambition. But if it is the will of Allah being expressed here, then let us proceed in a lawful way to obtain recognition from the government. If it can be brought about without doing more harm than good, I _will_ assume this task, and strive to make the Cantonment an island of refuge amid the godless violence now engulfing our neighbors!" For although Tamir did not yet know about the impending Aztlano assault on the Western Enclave, he certainly did know about the random riots that were breaking out, for no known reason, in many cities of the Diversity States.

And if the Cantonment henceforth really did become an island of peace, then its people would gain credibility in the eyes of outsiders. Instead of joining in any more terror campaigns, they would win _moral_ victories.

It was a happy thought for the veteran healer; but he could not block off the remembrance of all the vicious abuse of women that still persisted right here in Detroit. The test of his leadership would probably be found in his efforts to discourage _that_ shameful custom.
 
I don't often put links in blogs like this, but reading some headlines today, I was struck by how it sounded like I was _IN_ Copperfox's story, "The Possible Future of Alipang Havens."

First this:
DID THE PINKSHIRTS WRITE THIS REAL-LIFE ARTICLE?!
Reading this, I for a moment found myself with the strong feeling that I was reading YOUR work on "Possible Future of . . . ." It sounds like it was written by the pinkshirts! Just having the opinion that the government is off its constitutional foundation is equated with hating the current POTUS's skin color--just like that! Written in the same breath so that people will begin to assume that one equals the other without question. I was waiting for the article to talk about sending people for re-education in one of the "Tolerance Centers!"

Then this:
More REAL LIFE News that could have been written by the Campaign Against Hate!
Being 'straight' is no longer normal--and the teacher's school refused to take out the "heterophobic" material out of his curriculum!!! It's like the news today is straight out of your novel--and you wrote a lot of this 3 or more YEARS ago! Unbelievable.

I realize that only one of these articles was written about the U.S., but this kind of thinking ISN'T confined to our Aussie friends, (where the school from the second article is located). May God help us repent and turn back to Him, so that we may have a HOPE of regaining His protection against these evils!
 
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Chapter 134: The Beginning of Another End


Less than an hour after Vibol Ritisak and two of his aides defected to Mexico, Vice-President Reed Harrison was in the Rainbow House Situation Room, conferring with numerous law-enforcement leaders: Continental Marshal Gorshkovskaya and the top commanders of Transport Police and Commerce Inspectors in person, and the commanders of the majority of the federal district forces (Texas District not among them) by two-D video.

The commander of the Inland Southern District Police, one of only three male commanders among the conferees, was asking, "Are you suspending division of riot-control duties for this emergency?" His own district had been hard hit; groups of proletarians, each group equally mixed in racial composition, were somehow simultaneously accusing each other of some kind of racism, and were battling each other accordingly.

"Yes, we are," Harrison told him. "The Supreme Court concurs with me, so the Marshals' Service will coordinate with all of you. No labor union is officially sanctioning any of the riots, so kinetic-negotiation procedures don't apply."

"And _every_ police body is authorized to emply deadly force at discretion, though no across-the-board order for deadly force is in effect," added Gorshkovskaya.

The female head of Transport Police, present in the Situation Room, asked for everyone's benefit: "Is it true that the Great Lakes Cantonment is requesting approval of a new Imam-Governor?"

"Yes, and the Presidium approves their choice," Harrison replied. "All indications are that letting Doctor Tamir govern there will ensure peace in _that_ quarter, at least. And the Presidium particularly likes having a physician in charge there; it will reflect our position that Islam has never, in all of its history, been a cause of any hatred or violence."

The woman in charge of the Seaway District Police changed the subject: "When is President Atkinson coming back to Washington?"

"That remains uncertain; but I believe she will turn over H.U. duties to our new Acting Ambassador as soon as there's been a vote on her latest proposal in the Bi-Continental Assembly."

"What proposal is that?" asked the police commander of the Gulf Coast Federal District.

"I have a real-time feed from the Assembly going right now. There was a motion by Nazi capitalists to remove H.U. headquarters from Caracas, due to absurd accusations that Venezuela acted illegally in aiding the Argentinian people to overthrow their feudal corporate oppressors. President Atkinson, seeing that there was a disturbingly strong level of support for the measure, has made a counter-proposal, one which would not completely overlook misgivings about the Argentinian liberation, yet would serve as a goodwill gesture to Aztlan. She has moved that the H.U. headquarters be relocated to the capital of Aztlan."

"I have to get off soon," interjected the woman commanding the Midwest District Police; "my own headquarters building is already under attack. Will we be receiving air support from the Texas Rangers?"

"No; the Party has wisely kept their new provision of aircraft to a minimum. But the Transport Police have an old-type helicopter gunship, former Indoctrination Department property, in storage near your location; it was not offered to China, due to its low speed and lack of armor. We'll see to it that this gunship is gotten into the air for some strafing runs on your rioters."

"What about your tranquilizing chemtrails?" barked the man from Inland Southern. "Why the ________ aren't they being deployed now?"

"I'm afraid the supply of gas is badly depleted; we've used so much of it trying to control the misguided citizens in the Cantonment and the bloodthirsty God-fascists in the Western Enclave. But there's a reserve Pinkshirt gunship in your area too; I'll have it released to your command..."

= = = = = = = = = = =

In the city of Georgetown, in what had once been the state of Delaware, a screaming mob assaulted Leon Trotsky Middle School, incoherently accusing the teachers of being reactionary tribal marriage-bigots teaching the children to reject relational autonomy. Every faculty member in the building was horribly murdered, as were eleven of the children.

The attacking mob had barely gotten finished killing the principal who had replaced Juanita Porres, when a _second_ mob appeared and attacked the first one.

The boy called Butterfly Gambino, who had been under special tolerance mentoring ever since he had been made to take sole blame for the assault on Cecilia Salisbury, was trying to keep out of the way of both crazed mobs, when he distinctly heard someone in the new mob shouting that the people in the _first_ mob were all reactionary tribal marriage-bigots. Shortly after this, Butterfly managed to reach the communal bicycle racks. When he pulled loose the first bicycle he could get hold of, a robotic voice rebuked him: "Unauthorized operation of the people's bicycles is un-mutual!" But as no teachers were left alive to enforce the rule of collective ownership, the boy mounted up anyway, and fled the scene of carnage.

He made it no more than two blocks before he was detained by three Transport Police officers. They were not responding to the indignant robot at the middle school; they had simply been trying to avoid facing the frenzied rioters, and had happened upon Butterfly committing the infraction of unauthorized bicycle-riding. So they made a big deal of taking him into custody, telling him that he was likely to be sent to a Tolerance House.

Given what was happening in his hometown, this was the _best_ news Butterfly had heard all day.

 
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