The First Love Of Alipang Havens

Amid the violent confusion at Old Faithful, the woman Belinda was shot and gravely wounded by one Aztlano; but an instant later, that gunman was pulled to the ground and immobilized by a swarm of Amish farmers, who had spontaneously decided that their non-violent principles were not betrayed by pinning the man flat and sitting on him without hurting him.

Another Aztlano thug tried to grab hold of Polly Desmond. Strange thing, though: having just lost his firstborn daughter, Vance Desmond somehow _didn't_ feel that the Christian faith required him to hand over his wife to the same actively-threatening evildoers. With Polly's screams holding the gunman's attention for a crucial instant, Vance leaped upon him with a sudden massive adrenaline vigor, bore him to the ground -- and strangled him to death.

Major-General Ybarra urged the two men nearest him to come with him and see how many of the fusion bombs were still in usable condition. But the man in the lead paid for the mistaken belief that Peter Tomisaburo was dead. Micro-whip still in hand, Peter needed only a little bit of his remaining strength to sweep the microscopically-thin wire through this man's ankles, dropping him into the dirt with shrieks of agony. Ybarra backed away in a hurry, and the other underling ran in panic, yelling about magic and demons. Several more of the surviving invaders, already aware that something mysterious had slain others of their company, joined in the panic, fleeing blindly toward the nearest trees, unheeding of the shouted orders from their self-appointed new president.

Meanwhile, the healthcare personnel from Saint Labre's who had been part of the party offering peace ran to Osmawani Jalil, to stop the bleeding of her wounds and try to keep her alive. It seemed to them that Reagan, Ulrich and Ransom were beyond all earthly help, and in this they were two-thirds right.

Giving up on recalling the stampeded men, Ramon Ybarra saw how many effectives he had left: six men still armed and on their feet. Waving an arm angrily at the confused mass in which others of his men were being overpowered by the prisoners, he screeched, "Matalos! Todos! Matalos!" Those were the Major-General's very last words prior to his arrival in The Bad Place. A small neat hole appeared in his right temple, and a big messy exit wound erupted from the other side of his head. Before his men could even see where that fatal shot had come from, one more of their number died similarly.

Wearing the suit of a Texas Ranger helicopter pilot with no cowboy hat, but riding like a cowboy hero in movies, Emilio Vasquez bore down on his enemies from the flank, firing single aimed shots as he came. When he saw that his foes had spotted him, he swung his horse to one side, and leaned far down on the side of the animal toward the Aztlanos, still shooting. Two bullets from a poorly aimed burst wounded the brave mare, but Emilio killed the man who had fired that burst--

And then, just like that, not one Aztlano remained alive in the immediate vicinity, except some who were immobilized or badly injured. Reporting status, Emilio hastily requested aid for his horse. Police instincts reasserting themselves, Emilio asked a Commerce Inspector if any other threats were near. She told him of the Aztlanos who had fled northward. So Emilio told her to join in helping the wounded. For his part, he held his rifle in one hand -- with four shots remaining in it -- and used his dataphone with the other hand, to broadcast an unencrypted call on all friendly channels: "Lieutenant Vasquez, Texas Ranger Enclave Detachment, reporting from Old Faithful! Nuclear threat is temporarily averted. Need reinforcements at once! Reinforcements to Yellowstone! Bombs have been captured by hostiles!"

And the replies began coming in.
 
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This is what comes of being distracted by countless real-world problems while writing a novel almost as long as Gone With the Wind. Looking back, I just discovered that I have killed Ulrich Reinhart twice. Or killed somebody twice. This, and possibly other inconsistencies, will take some time to correct.

Don't worry, I won't let Alipang kill the despicable Vitaly Khloponin while you're not looking.
 
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Well, at least you're following a noble tradition. If I recall correctly, Homer is guilty of the same thing.
 
"Who the ____________ do you think you are?" demanded the former Commander of the Campaign Against Hate.

"Alipang Havens, Grange volunteer! Give up now, and I'll tell you more at your trial."

Vitaly Khloponin had advanced far enough to be able to see the far side of the fallen jump-jet; no one there seemed to be in a shape to threaten him. With no firearms left, he hefted the axe which had just been thrown at him. It seemed like a toy in his grasp. His left hand pulled a knife about the size of Alipang's sheath knife. Alipang, in response, opened the high-tech balisong that Brendan Hyland had given him. Now each man had two weapons.

"No court of weak-kneed Biblicals is going to sentence Vitaly Khloponin!"

"Ah, yes, the great Commander Khloponin. Your assistant thug, Nash Dockerty, liked to barge into churches and bully defenseless exiles. Now he's exiled himself, permanently. If you want to join him in the furnace, you just try me. But if you're smart, you'll--"

Vitaly was in no mood for movie-villain monologues. Roaring like a Wyoming grizzly, he charged headlong. Mindful of the damage done to his mobility by his bullet-wounded hind end, Alipang let the strength-boosted Russian do the work of closing the distance. At the last possible instant, he dodged to his right, staying away from his own axe that his adversary now held. Then, with less bulk to manage than Vitaly had, he reversed, bouncing back toward the bigger man. Before Vitaly could about-face, Alipang's knives opened two gashes in his flak jacket. The hunting knife only damaged the body armor, but the super-hard balisong blade cut deeper, drawing blood.

Vitaly, however, was no stupid brute, only depending on raw strength. Faking a spin to his left, he spun right instead. Alipang's axe, in his right hand, swung in a curve which almost connected with its owner's head. Alipang dove beneath the axe-blow.... only to find that his taller foe had expected just that. A massive boot aimed a kick at Alipang's face. Alipang was only just able to recoil enough to reduce the force of the boot's impact, before he was flung back with his right cheek raggedly torn and bleeding.

Moving with the inertia of being flung back, he rolled twice, then sprang to his feet. He evaded a new rush, without being able to deliver any damage-- then tried a rush of his own, only spinning aside before a fresh sweep of his hatchet could stop him. The balisong darted, and Vitaly's right arm was gored, a thirty-centimeter slice.

But Vitaly was not slowed down. Maybe these enhanced people had a larger blood supply, so they could survive more wounds?
 
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The jutting left wing of the nearest downed airplane was only a few paces away, so Alipang backpedalled toward it. With his considerably shorter height, he could duck beneath it much more easily than Vitaly could, and from there he could make the taller man guess which way he would move next.

But Vitaly had a more direct approach. Furious at Alipang for drawing first blood, and able to move quickly when he had no momentum of his own to overcome, he stuck the axehandle through his belt, clenched the knifeblade in his teeth, swung a low kick to make the Grange huntsman back away, grasped the leading edge of the wing with both hands.... and _bent_ the whole wing upward as if it were only a single sheet of thin aluminum.

This move did prove alarming to the smaller man; but it also was a great enough exertion that even a strength-boosted martial artist had to gasp in several recovering breaths after doing it. Alipang found his own use for this moment of respite: an aileron on the wing had been loosened by the wing being bent out of shape, and Alipang was able to rip it the rest of the way off.

The aileron was about as long as Alipang's height, and handling it was no more difficult than handling a heavy plank. When Vitaly started toward him again, Alipang swung the aileron like a giant sword, its edge aimed at Vitaly's head. Vitaly caught it and foiled the attack; but his hands being busy tossing the object aside laid him open to one of the moves that Yang Sung-Kuo had taught to the Escrimador. Alipang's fighting style had never emphasized kicking; but now, ignoring the pain it caused in his wounded buttocks, he delivered a leaping side-kick into Vitaly's ribs. Then, moving fast enough to get it done before dropping to the ground, he drove in a separate heel-kick with his other foot. Vitaly bent forward, air gushing out of his nostrils and mouth. Making a rolling recovery, Alipang reversed his roll back toward his foe, and launched a _third_ kick: a vertical roundhouse kick into the big Russian's head.

The knife held in Vitaly's teeth dropped loose. He instinctively made a defensive move before trying to retrieve the knife: a graceless but powerful sweep of the axe after hastily grabbing it from his belt. Alipang got clear, then charged in once more as Vitaly went for the dropped knife, while throwing his sheath knife to wound Vitaly in one thigh.

Vitaly was first to get hold of the fallen weapon; but it had not occurred to him that his adversary could grasp a naked blade with his naked hand and not be injured. The work of the scientists Noreen Verble and Integer Swift was vindicated, as Alipang's toughened palm and fingers trapped and held the razor-keen blade. When Vitaly tried to split Alipang's head with the hatchet, Alipang's diamond-composite balisong severed the wooden haft.

But Vitaly was not out of the fight yet. Using the remnant of the axehandle just like a Japanese yawara stick, he struck Alipang in the face, damaging one eye.

Alipang lost hold of the opposing knife he had been restraining; but he retaliated by leaning in and thrusting his armor-piercing knife through the belly of the big man's armor vest. It stuck there, and was tugged out of Alipang's grip. Vitaly clearly was hurt by the blade now stuck fast in his body; but his fighting instincts held good, and he evaded Alipang's attempt to kick the balisong _deeper_ into his flesh.

Weaponless now, Alipang retreated. The one bright spot was that an impaled leg now slowed Vitaly's movement more than bullet-grazed buttocks were slowing Alipang.
 
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Alipang's right eye was the blinded one, and the people gathered on the far side of the fallen aircraft were to his right; so he could not readily see how things were for them, nor did he hear any sound from them. He was too busy right now to swing around and look that way with his good eye.

A dropped rifle came in view, though, and he swept it up. When he tried to shoot Vitaly, the weapon proved empty; but the stock of the rifle served to catch the point of the Russian's knife when he tried to stab Alipang. Leaning in beneath that thwarted attack, Alipang at last got his chance to drive his balisong in deeper, with a heel-of-hand strike. Yelling in pain, Vitaly reached down from above in an attempt to fasten a headlock and break Alipang's neck. The Filipino fighter twisted away barely in time, and did suffer a knee strike to his left shoulder as he evaded.

The strength of his Moro ancestors kept Alipang going, but he would have no qualms about shooting his foe if he could get hold of a gun that still had bullets in it. The silence from his right ominously warned him that Jewel, Kostas and Porter were as unable to help him as was the badly-wounded Henry....

But out of that silence, and out of his blind side, came a crawling shape like something in a horror story. It was actually the quartet of captured Aztlano aviators, still all tied together, but dragging themselves along together to grab at the legs of their only still-active enemy in sight.

Suddenly pulled off his feet by many hands and mobbed by hostile bodies, Alipang reacted faster than thinking. He broke one man's neck in the same way as Vitaly had sought to break his, and clamped his teeth on a hand hard enough to fracture its fingers. But before he could break free completely -- Vitaly Khloponin got hold of him.

Spewing Russian obscenities, Vitaly hoisted the smaller man high, aiming to slam him down for an over-the-knee backbreaker. His grip was too well placed for Alipang to be able to get loose....

But Vitaly was not the only one who could be helped by someone crawling on the ground. Knowing that this was that one more thing he was to do, the dying Kostas Demophilos had dragged himself past the four crawling enemy airmen, and now he plunged his own hunting knife into Vitaly's left foot, right through the boot. As Vitaly howled, and lost his grip on Alipang, Kostas departed his body, knowing that he had done what was needed.

Finding himself tumbling down Vitaly's back, Alipang scissored his legs around the bigger man's neck, hoping to break _Vitaly's_ neck, or at least make him fall down. Vitaly still was too strong for either of these outcomes to occur; but he did stagger off balance in the process of shaking Alipang off.

And Alipang was the quicker of the two in recovering.

Now the tenacity of the Moro jungle fighters made itself known to the former Commander of the Campaign Against Hate -- in the form of two fists, smaller than Vitaly's fists but also harder. They struck and struck and struck, as Vitaly was trying to get freshly squared off. They struck relentlessly, their kinetic impact being felt right through the Russian's body armor. And by the time the big man rallied and got his hands onto Alipang's throat -- it was too late. Alipang had caught hold of his jutting balisong, now tugging it free instead of trying to force it farther in.

Before the deadly stranglehold could kill him, Alipang stabbed up into Vitaly's left armpit. Blood spurting, Vitaly lost his left-hand grip on Alipang's neck; and then the ultra-hard blade opened the Russian's throat all the way across.

It was the same stroke Alipang had used on the second of the first two opponents he had ever slain; and Vitaly Khloponin fell down just as dead as a gangster named Clemente Pasquale had fallen on Christmas Eve of 2008.
 
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Kostas Demophilos was unmistakably dead. One of the three surviving tied-up aviators worked loose from the bonds at last; but this man wanted nothing more to do with the man who had just slain a superhuman foe. Instead, he ran away. In Moro fury, Alipang might have chased him down; but his friends took priority.

Porter and Jewel were alive, and seemed able to survive awhile yet. Alipang didn't like hearing no sound from Henry; but he was the only one of his party able to try to summon help. Remembering Henry's trick with a dataphone on the occasion of rescuing Odette Galloway, Alipang found Jewel's dataphone and made her thumb touch a "General Call" button; he assumed this to be a hasty way of reaching preselected recipients. He spoke into the device:

"Attention, all Enclave, Texan, or Mexican forces! This is Alipang Havens, Grange Association, Wyoming Sector! I am at the site of Emilio Formentera's plane crash-landing, south by southeast of Teapot Creek encampment. Medical help urgently needed, repeat, medical help needed for several friendly personnel! Home on this signal! Grange volunteer Alipang Havens calling for aid at this location, follow the signal!"

Someone had to have heard that. Alipang could wait no longer; he MUST see if Henry was alive. Wounded buttocks notwithstanding, he ran full tilt, leaving the dataphone in Jewel's hand.

Henry was unconscious from loss of blood, but still feebly breathing. In the faint hope that it might still do some good. Alipang tore off his shirt and stuffed it into the gut-wound. Then, his bloody face now also tear-soaked, he begged God to keep his young Apache brother alive. He had been praying for just two and a half minutes when he heard the sound. It was the sound of Great Condor helicopters approaching: three of them, he saw when he looked. Bringing his face close to Henry's, he half-sobbed, "Don't leave me now, Henry, stay here for Huldah!"

And Henry kept breathing. He was still breathing when men in Mexican Alliance uniforms, calling out in Texan voices, came running up with life-support equipment. "We've got him now, it's all right!" one man exclaimed. Another man asked, "Are you Allen Pangayvens?"

Alipang laughed hysterically. "ALIPANG HAVENS-- but yes, I'm the Grange man who called. Someone, please come with me. Other casualties to treat, over this way."

Two of the Texans followed him; and a certain warrior's vanity helped Alipang to continue ignoring his own pain and striding firmly. They rounded the plane-crash site, and Alipang pointed. "That man and that woman both need help. One Forest Ranger is over that way, killed in action. The others you see, living or dead, are hostiles. There's the dead body of El Presidente Formentera, and there's the undeservedly living body of Jessica Trevette!"

= = = = = = = = = = =

Many kilometers to the northwest, two other Great Condors had landed beside Old Faithful, to secure the Aztlano prisoners whom Emilio Vasquez was holding at gunpoint. One Texan man crouched over the seemingly dead body of Ransom Kramer, as some of the Amish folk also looked on.

Ransom suddenly opened his eyes, and spoke in a rush:

"I had to wait to come back until our friend Kostas arrived up there. Kostas told me to tell Pulverizer Clarendon that he has no hard feelings toward her. Now, where's Miss Jalil? I need to assure her that she didn't just imagine it!"
 
Chapter 144: Early Aftermath

At the Teapot Creek transitory camp, Texas Ranger Uriel Morales received the news that Emilio Vasquez and Peter Tomisaburo had thwarted the volcano-bombing threat; also the news that the other Emilio was dead, that his lover Jessica was now under arrest, that Kostas Demophilos had died in action, and that Kostas' companions were all alive but all seriously wounded.

Terrance and Harmony Havens were almost out of their minds with anxiety when they discovered that the vehicle Uriel had driven to bring casualties to the camp for treatment was nearly out of fuel. But just as Alipang's siblings were trying to find two horses that were not too tired for a hard ride, one of the Great Condor helicopters arrived. The helicopter had brought two paramedics with emergency supplies, to help attend to the injured persons here at Teapot Creek. The command pilot assured Alipang's frantic siblings that Alipang, Henry, Jewel and Porter were all under expert care and were expected to survive; but Harmony still pleaded for herself and Terrance to be allowed to occupy the just-vacated seats in the Great Condor, and fly back to where Alipang was.

The pilot, a classic tall Texan, replied, "Well, why the heck not? Everyone in the Enclave is now all finished forever with needing to ask the Transport Police for permission to go someplace. Hop in!" The swift gunship delivered the two youngest children of Eric and Cecilia to the scene of action in a matter of minutes.

Straining her lustrous eyes, Harmony spotted where their elder brother lay on a litter from almost half a kilometer away. Even from this distance, she saw, or imagined she saw, the blood splashed all over Alipang. An instant later, Terrance recognized Henry Spafford in a similar condition. The electronic-warfare operator aboard the helo told the passengers, "They've been treating your brother and the others in place to start, but they're almost ready to evacuate them to Sioux San Hospital."

"Why not the hospital in Casper?" demanded Harmony. "That's a lot closer."

"But it's been burned to the ground," said the pilot.

When the Condor landed, Harmony and Terrance virtually exploded out the door, and sprinted to where Alipang lay. "Easy, he isn't going to die!" exclaimed a female paramedic kneeling beside the Moro warrior.

Alipang seemed conscious. Terrance clasped his brother's right hand -- and it came off. Or rather, the armored skin slid off like a glove. "I'm molting! I'm molting! What a world!" he laughed. "But it's God's timing; the outer skin stayed on just long enough."

"Don't scare us anymore!" said Terrance. "We need you around; since Dad's missing a _whole_ hand, who else will clean our teeth for free? But I'll go see Henry now."

This left Harmony to slide in close, looking out for the intravenous tube, and then drape herself over her elder brother and hero. Not since the old days with Chilena in Smoky Lake had Alipang been so fervently and repeatedly kissed by a female relative. It felt wonderful to have Harmony clinging to him now, and he kissed her back as much as he could.

"Forget the teeth," she told him at a pause in the clinging. "I need you here to attend my wedding, if I ever have one."

"You will," Alipang insisted; then they kissed again, and yet again. Just before he was taken to a medevac helicopter, he declared, "And we'll honor those who went before us, including Kostas." To the paramedics, he added, "When you take my shoes off, expect my right foot to be shedding skin also. I'll explain about that later."

The medevac flight had so many patients to carry that it couldn't hold Alipang's siblings; but the same Condor they had come in would give them a lift in the direction of Rapid City where the functioning hospital was. Word was sent to Teapot Creek, to confirm for the Havens family and others that Alipang and Henry were out of danger of dying -- though it had been a terribly close call in Henry's case.

Just before they re-embarked on the Condor, Terrance and Harmony beheld a newly-conscious Jessica Trevette, with hands tied behind her, being unceremoniously led to another of the gunships. "Hey, Your Majesty!" Terrance yelled. "Guess what? The collective ISN'T everything anymore!"

Laughing a relieved laugh at this, Harmony now gave her second brother his own share of attention, which he reciprocated.
 
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The flight to Rapid City took longer, of course. The electronics-warfare operator onboard the gunship was continuously talking by cognitive radio to other Texans, receiving information on deaths, damage, and the capture of enemy combatants. Harmony paid less than half her attention to this, being still full of worry for Alipang; Terrance paid more than half his attention, because of another worry he was feeling.

"Sir, is there a cabin speaker you could put that on? If it isn't secret?"

"No, son, none of it's a secret now, so yes, you and the young lady can hear."

Now both sides of each exchange became audible to Terrance and Harmony. Miscellaneous facts poured into the helicopter and out of the speaker, some facts more meaningful to the Havens family than others. Odette Galloway, and the four male Energy Department workers who had been with her in using heat-projectors to slow down the invaders' armored column, had been found in the hills by Grange volunteers and brought to safety. Odette's girlfriend Fawn Seavers, who had panicked and run away from the infrared-emitter installation without helping, had fallen into the hands of one of the Aztlano tunnel-infiltration squads. What Fawn had then suffered had been almost as bad as what happened to Osmawani Jalil; but like Osmawani, Fawn had survived and was now receiving medical care.

The Montefiori farm had been wiped out of existence by a stray Aztlano missile, but the Montefiori family was safely elsewhere. John Wisebadger was taking charge of initial recovery efforts along the western edge of the Wyoming Sector. The two female church musicians from Casper had both been wounded by stray bullets from a gunfight between Transport Police and members of Los Malignos. The ex-convict nicknamed Gerbil had lost his left arm and left leg in an explosion; Reuben Torvill, who was caring for him, expressed hope that Gerbil would live to have prosthetic limbs fitted. The Fairness Party bureaucrat Whipstrike Diamond, emerging from the underground government shelters inside Harney's Peak, and seeing that the Distribution Undersecretary still _refused_ to come outside or do anything useful, had attempted to declare herself the sole acting ruler of the Western Enclave. Texas Rangers, Forest Rangers, Transport Police, Commerce Inspectors and Grange volunteers were unanimously and completely ignoring her.

Then came the news from North Dakota Sector. A holding camp had been set up in and around the town of Gascoyne, taking in several thousand exiles from the areas more directly threatened by the Aztlano invasion. But Gascoyne had not been a safe refuge after all. The Aztlano jet fighters which had escorted Major-General Ybarra's extortion force flying into Yellowstone Sector, when released from that job, had gone as planned to attack some target of opportunity before their fuel and ammo ran out. The holding camp was their opportunity.

Eighty-two civilians had been slain in that air strike. In sudden tension, Terrance begged the electronics man to find out more casualty information. The information soon was forthcoming. Among the dead in Gascoyne was the entire Forrester family from Sussex.... including Jillian, Terrance's girlfriend.

Terrance fell silent, as Harmony leaned over to throw her arms around him. The continuing report on Gascoyne revealed that the Aztlano pilots, running out of fuel even as they were enjoying the slaughter, had come down within easy reach of the surviving victims. Not one of those murderers had lived for more than three minutes after coming to earth. Terrance was unable to speak for the rest of the flight, but acknowledged his sister's commiseration by returning her embrace.

When the Great Condor touched down close to Sioux San, Terrance regained his voice: "Gentlemen, thank you for bringing us here. Harmony, I love you very, very much. Let's go see to the living; I'll be grieving soon enough, and long enough."

= = = = = = = = = =

Meanwhile, still stranded at Teapot Creek, Kim, Wilson, Esperanza and Brendan Havens were helping as they were able in the care of the wounded fighters who had been brought in by Uriel Morales. Cecilia the Elder was sticking close by her amputee husband, while Felicity Waddell temporarily watched Baby Peggy. They all knew that their side had won, but they were far from knowing a complete casualty list.

Little Brendan suddenly asked his sister: "Essie, does this mean we'll all get to drive cars?" Brendan was too young to remember what it had been like for individual civilians to be permitted to own vehicles privately. What had been commonplace for Americans not long ago was like a myth to Brendan.

"I don't know, Brennie. But I don't think we will."
 
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Osmawani Jalil knew that her visit to the front porch of Heaven had been real, because Ransom Kramer had verified that he had been up there with her. Within a minute after the Amish convert had hastily told her this, some unfamiliar man with a medical kit had sedated her. In this condition, she had a dream which WAS only a dream, but it certainly was vivid.

She dreamed she was in the middle of what looked like a garbage dump. Mixed with ordinary garbage were copies of Trip Conklin's "Churchbusters" novels, and what seemed to be posters for the "edgy" movies that Osmawani and Samantha Ford had acted in under Zimmo Garland's direction. A smell of smoke drew her attention to a huge barbecue pit. Gathered around the fire were the hideous "Nazi mutants" she had pretended to fight in the live-action "Churchbusters" show in Casper. What they were cooking.... was a screaming man, Trip Conklin himself.

Cutting through the screams came a voice that seemed clean and healthy, a voice that filled her with sudden love and hope. "Osmawani! Over this way, quick!" It was the voice of David Randall Redfern, formerly Daffodil Snugglypooh Ford. "You don't have to stay in this dump. You and I have parted, but we can still share the thing that matters most."

David had somehow grown much taller. Extending a hand, he helped her to climb over some kind of barrier. The screams and the smoke ceased. Now Osmawani seemed to be lying down. David was fluffing a pillow under her head; then he changed into a much older, darker-haired, unfamiliar man, and said to her:

"Miss Jalil, it's time for your medications."

"Who are you?" the Malaysian sexpot asked.

"My name's Tadeusz Nowicki. I'm a rehabilitation therapist, lately working up at Saint Labre. Part of the staff of Sioux San fled clear out of the Enclave three or four days ago; so now, since the Texas Rangers are bringing casualties from all directions, most of the Saint Labre caregiving staff has been flown here too, to fill the gaps. Doctors Paniagua and Robles are here. Saint Labre is being used for persons with only minor injuries, who only need a place to recuperate. Sarah Highbranch, and those two ex-Pinkshirt ladies who had been working there, are in charge of that activity."

"I gather that this means we're in Sioux San. What about my Rapid City friends? The people from the Blue Moon Orchestra? Were any of them killed?"

"I don't know if any of them were killed, but I do know that a few of them got slightly hurt in some explosion or other. And one of them is actually serving as a nurse's aide on this very floor: the singer who calls herself Omnipotence Cortez. She's been very anxious for you to recover. You know, of the people who defended Spirit Smoke and Thundering Mist, of those who didn't actually DIE, you were by far the worst wounded."

Osmawani nodded grimly. "I believe it; I was there to feel it. But I'll want to talk to Omnipotence very soon. Another thing: since you're from Saint Labre, you must know the old nun who was stationed there. Did she come to Rapid City also?"

Mister Nowicki smiled. "She sure did! Sister Arabella is a real caution; she's completely regained her ability to walk, and hurries around helping wherever she can. The crisis appears to have made her ten years younger. Not that she wishes anyone to be harmed, of course; but since there IS a crisis, she seems to derive a fresh life-force from being ABLE to help those in need."

"She sounds like just the woman I want to speak to. Could you please tell her, after I've taken my meds and used the bedpan, tell her that I want to see her?"

Soon, accordingly, the ancient-looking but strong-spirited Sister Arabella sat beside the former porn star's bed. "What can I do for you, Miss Jalil?"

Determined not to lose her nerve now that she had come this far, Osmawani blurted out: "I want to become a nun!"
 
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Sister Arabella's eyes widened comically. "You _what?_ Forgive me, of course any woman who has a calling from Our Lady can become a sister; but why exactly do you desire this?"

Osmawani summarized her out-of-body experience for the elderly nun, concluding: "Now I _absolutely_ know that God is real, and that He _doesn't_ hate me for the gutter-crawling life I've lived. I want to serve Him, but considering what a sexual appetite I have, I think I need to renounce all of that, so I'll be _able_ to focus on the Lord."

Collecting herself, Arabella told the younger woman, "Listen, here's what we'll do. When the continent is stable again, I'll find a way to communicate with the Nigerian Vatican. America -- in whatever form it'll take now -- needs a lot of rebuilding, and there's every reason why Mother Church should have a hand in it. What I'll send to the Holy Father is a request to form a new lay order: women who will work _with_ nuns, without themselves being required to swear celibacy. If you can become part of something like that, you'll be serving God, yet still having time to seek His will about whether you _really_ belong in a convent."

"Thank you, sister. Now, do you have time to teach me any prayers?"

Arabella smiled. "There's always the Our Father."
_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

These things were occurring on the day after Emilio Vasquez had thwarted the apocalyptic schemes of the late Emilio Formentera.

At Natrona Airport, Frodo Von Spock had been placed in command of a dozen civilian volunteers, anyone who was unhurt and capable, to start clearing wreckage and assessing damage to the buildings and other property. Remembering the job he had held at the big recycling center, Frodo was directing his crew to separate the rubble into types: metal, plastic, and so on. This work was moving fairly efficiently when a female Texas Ranger came up to former cult leader: Perlita Ramirez, whose mind had been cured of the enemy tampering which had turned her and several others against the Rangers.

"Frodo, has anyone told you the latest from President Atkinson?"

"No, Ranger, it's hours since I was close to anything electronic that isn't smashed into scorched junk. What happened?" His workers also paused to hear what news Perlita might relate.

"Atkinson came out of hiding in the Chinese Embassy to give a media conference. She said that because the Western Enclave _disobeyed_ her by resisting the invasion, she is rescinding her promise to allow you exiles to elect your own local leaders. She went on with the usual: diversiphobes and fascists threatening to undo all of the Fairness Party's good work, but the collective would prevail, blabbity-blab."

Frodo was dismayed. "Can she do that?"

Perlita laughed. "She _thought_ she could.... for about half an hour. But a _real_ president, President Monica Sotero, has just put Atkinson in her place. President Sotero announced that since the Rainbow House wanted the Enclave to surrender to Aztlan, and _Aztlan_ has itself been conquered by the Mexican Alliance in support of indigenous peoples on Aztlano soil, it follows that, by Atkinson's own action, the Enclave now is a possession of the Mexican Alliance!"

Frodo's workers broke out cheering.

"So Megavolt Atkinson has no more say, _ever_ again, about what happens in the Enclave," Perlita continued. "And President Garcia has gone on streamcast also, to declare that geographical common sense calls for the Enclave to become _Texan_ property!"

Overjoyed, Frodo exclaimed, "Well, measure me for a cowboy hat!"

"Mexico will directly rule what _was_ the People's Aztec-Maoist Republic, with the leaders of the Indian nations forming the new local governments. Ricardo Formentera and his sister Lupita have already taken refuge in Bolivia. We are now literally standing in Texas; and the Mexican government will guarantee free passage through its territory for people to move back and forth between Old Texas and New Texas. The totalitarians of the world _wanted_ the former Southwestern United States to be taken over by Mexicans, but the _kind_ of Mexicans now doing the taking over are sure not what our enemies wanted to see in charge!"

Frodo, who had not enjoyed any pleasing female contact for a long time, was so carried away with exuberance at the happy news, that he grabbed the lady Ranger and kissed her.

Perlita Ramirez didn't punch him, nor even get angry. "I'll give you that one for free, in honor of the occasion. But next time, ask for my permission."

 
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Once relieved of responsibility for the Aztlanos captured in Yellowstone Sector, Emilio Vasquez had borrowed a horse from a Cheyenne family in the vicinity, and started south. On the day after his victory, then, he made it as far as a miners' residential village, where he met the workers Kuruk Niteesh and Purvis Kroll. These men directed him to where he could speak with John and Lynne Wisebadger.

"Emilio! Thank God you're safe!" exclaimed Lynne.

"A lot of my comrades are even safer now: safe in the presence of Jesus," Emilio sighed. "Colt Finnegan, Bob Chesterton, Darya Sinkewicz, Buck Washburn, Rip Falkirk, Annabelle Swain, even Jed Brickhouse.... and more, too many of us. But we could not have done otherwise than we did. So how's recovery looking?"

John frowned. "The Garcia administration honestly means to be helpful; but there are losses and wreckage in Old Texas also, and all over the newly-liberated Aztlan."

"Don't even call that area Aztlan anymore. Call it Northwest Mexico, and let _everything_ about the Aztec-Maoist regime be flushed down the toilet."

"Certainly, Emilio. But the flushing involves humanitarian relief, and assistance to the Indian nations in creating new local administrations. A lot of Mexico City's effort has to go in that direction, since they'll be directly governing what was Aztlan. On the other hand, I'm hopeful about some aid coming our way from Canada. They can afford to help us out, since they're gaining possession of the former states of Washington and Oregon, plus the bit of Idaho that was added to Northwest Federal District, _without_ having to fight for them."

"So they get to be the ones who dissolve the All-Species Council."

"Yes, and good riddance. Oh, but we're gaining something, too. I've heard that the Bi-Continental Assembly voted approval, over the objections of the Venezuelan Alliance, for the former Enclave to annex the _rest_ of Nebraska, thus giving access to the Missouri River for water travel down to the Mississippi and the Gulf."

Emilio nodded. "That will help communication between what I guess we're calling Old Texas and New Texas. But tell me, John: what needs do you anticipate for local recovery?"

The Arapahoe official spread his arms expansively. "It's September! What do you think? We'll need very soon to harvest crops! But until some outside source -- or the work of our own energy industry, but that will require time -- replenishes fuel supplies, there won't be a truck or a farm machine able to run."

"I'm sure that Canada and Mexico between them will come up with some relief supplies for the Encl-- for New Texas. But I know where you can get manpower for early stages of harvest work, and for stuff like repairing houses."

"You mean prisoners of war?"

"Sure do. They'll come cheap; their salary will consist in being allowed to go on breathing air that would be much cleaner without their presence."
 
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Four days after John Wisebadger's conversation with Emilio Vasquez, both of these men, with their wives, were part of a sizeable crowd which gathered in the front lobby of Sioux San Hospital to see one of the principal surviving heroes of the Enclave defense. There was not nearly enough space for even half of them to have entered Alipang's hospital room. The descendant of savage Moros insisted on walking to meet his family on his own feet; Kim was there for him to lean on, and with his wounded buttocks a wheelchair would have been no improvement.

Emerging from the elevator, Alipang and Kim -- the latter carrying Baby Peggy as usual -- beheld the most complete gathering of their extended family since before the Fairness Revolution. Of course Wilson, Esperanza and little Brendan were there, as were Eric and Cecilia the Elder, Dan, Chilena, Cecilia the Younger, Tommy, Irene, Emilio, Melody, Baby Douglas, Harmony and Terrance. But now they had been joined by Kim's mother Elizabeth, Kim's sisters Baeline, Sharon and Susan, and all of _their_ husbands and children. Besides these, Bill and Lorraine Shao were next to the Wisebadgers, though Bill _was_ in a wheelchair; with them were Lorraine's son Ransom Kramer and his Amish fiancee Lydia Reinhart with her mother Lois, though Lydia and Lois were dressed all in black for the sake of the murdered Uncle Ulrich. Evan and Summer Rand were there with their four children; so were Miguel and Tilly De Soto, Pulverizer Clarendon the tough-chick actress, Dalbir and Sarbar Pitafi, Texas Ranger Uriel Morales with his wife Donna, and Pastor Wayne Schell who was temporarily without a church building. Bringing up the rear were Sylvia Lathrop the boarding-house landlady, Frigate the lady saxophonist, a heavily-pregnant Huldah Spafford who had come from seeing her still-bedridden husband Henry, and Frodo Von Spock, who had just been checking on the convalescence of the injured Jerry "Gerbil" Sunderberg.

Applause erupted when Alipang came in sight. The stocky warrior soon found himself being barraged with kisses from his mother, all of his sisters, his daughters and nieces, his mother-in-law and sisters-in-law, and others including Tilly and Summer.

His own eyes surprising him by streaming tears, Alipang hoarsely exclaimed, "God bless you all, thank you for coming, thank you for caring about me AND about the others you're visiting here! Pastor Schell! Church activity's been disrupted, understatement of the year; would you please offer a prayer of thanksgiving for the deliverance God has carried out?"

In the overload of emotions at this moment, Wayne Schell was unable to come up with anything spontaneous; but The Lord's Prayer came to his rescue, and almost everyone within hearing joined in reciting it. Even Pulverizer, though not knowing it, listened to it.

Cecilia the Elder now took the floor. "Excuse me! Dear family members and beloved friends, please allow me to point out a small, personal example of our ability to come back from adversity. Most of you know how my Eric has insisted that practically _every_ other surviving casualty be given priority ahead of him for tissue regeneration and even prosthetic fittings. But he now _has_ a temporary prosthetic hand anyway!"

Taking his cue, Eric held up his right arm which had lost its hand. Something like an archer's leathern arm-brace was encasing his forearm stump, and from it, held in place by abundant stitching, there protruded a long, sturdy stirring spoon. "I can at least pick some things up with this -- and stir soup, of course," explained the old dentist.

Eric's wife resumed: "My grandson Tommy Salisbury had the original idea for this, but his school on the outside gave him no experience with tools. So he asked his cousin Esperanza Havens, who _does_ have such experience, to direct the execution of his idea. They dug up an old leather boot, whose upper part was big enough to fit around their Grandpa's forearm, and cut away the lower part. Esperanza found a kitchen utensil heavy enough to be useful at prying or holding things; then she showed her cousin how to use a leather punch to make holes for a slender cord to be stitched through, to anchor the spoon at the wrist end of the leather sleeve. Eric tried it on for the first time only ten minutes ago.... and we're proud to bursting of our clever grandchildren!"

In witness of their Christian upbringing, Eric and Cecilia's grandchildren _besides_ Tommy and Esperanza _didn't_ fall into jealous pouting just because Tommy and Esperanza were being singled out for praise at the moment. The two being praised stood hand in hand, enjoying spotlight time, _without_ any intention of acting superior to their respective sets of siblings.

Wilson and Cecilia the Younger were deliberately _avoiding_ standing close together for the time being. The day before, when the recovery of transportation had come far enough along that the Salisburys with Pulverizer Clarendon _could_ get back into the Enclave, Wilson and Cecilia had enjoyed a loving reunion indeed. Merely hugging tightly while others were watching them, they had at last succeeded in being _alone_ together for two or three minutes. During those minutes, the two adoptive cousins had kissed and caressed each other SO passionately that they frightened themselves. Their mutual love, and their intention of marrying each other once they came of age, were not altered in the least; but they agreed to be careful about intense physical contact for the present. It was a long wait that lay ahead of them.

But the courting cousins did exchange many warm glances during the happy gathering. They also saw each other glancing at Cecilia's little brother standing with Wilson's little sister. A telepathic thought flew between Wilson and Cecilia: We won't be the ones to _suggest_ to Tommy and Essie that _they_ might one day get together the same as _we've_ gotten together; but if they do show feelings for each other as they grow older, we sure won't _discourage_ them. That would create a _double_ bond between Havens and Salisbury.

Cecilia had the added thought: And maybe Irene can marry Brendan too! Wilson had the added thought: Maybe Baby Peggy {{ DAUGHTER OF KIM AND ALIPANG }} could grow up to marry Aunt Melody's son Doug! {{ THIS WOULD UNITE _BLOOD_ COUSINS. }}
 
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On the evening of the day after the crowded get-together at Sioux San, Canadian air force jets, newly establishing patrol routes in the airspace of their newly acquired ex-D.S. territory, were hailed over cognitive radio by a squadron of Chinese dirigibles. This slow-moving aerial convoy was inbound from the Pacific Ocean; the squadron commander courteously requested permission to pass through what had become Canadian airspace, to deliver humanitarian aid to the inhabitants of the former Western Enclave. Lighter-than-air ships had been chosen for this mission because their control systems, being simple, had never been inseparably dependent on Greater China's military computer network. This meant that they could travel safely even though the Beijing government was still fighting to overcome the cyber-sabotage inflicted on its military command-and-control systems by the Islamist rebels.

One American was on board the leading airship: Ambassador Benito Salazar, the diplomat who had survived a terrorist attack in western China. In the time since that attack, he had returned once to the D.S.A., then gone to China yet again. He now showed himself in a holographic transmission as a sign of the good faith of the people transporting him back to North America.

The Canadians gave entry permission, on a condition with which the Chinese agreed to comply: Canadian helicopters with high-grade thermal and magnetic-resonance imagers must be allowed to fly up alongside the dirigibles and scan their interiors for any undeclared armaments. The scanning showed that, although the cargo containers might possibly hold _components_ for weapons, they contained no _assembled_ weapons. The Canadians allowed the Chinese airships to proceed, and reported as much to the Texan liberation forces currently located in the Enclave, a.k.a. New Texas.

A just-promoted Ranger Aviation Captain Sally Pitt, former Texas Bear crewmember, had assumed acting command of the Texan forces. Two Maquihuitl fighters took over for the Canadians to escort the dirigible convoy into Wyoming Sector, which had suffered more than all the rest of the Enclave. Landing in a suitable open area in the Graybull Valley, the aerial transports were kept under the watchful eyes of Great Condor crews. But not in an overtly hostile way, since the secret army had verified that the Aztlano invasion had not been China's doing.

Two women in authority stood beside Sally Pitt when the Chinese began disembarking from their airships: the Distribution Undersecretary, who had _finally_ quit cowering inside Harney's Peak, and the recently-widowed Dana Pickering Terrell, who had assumed acting command of the Forest Rangers. Armed, uniformed men emerged from the parked airships, collectively adding up to about a platoon's worth, but they made no threatening moves. Walking toward the three American women came Benito Salazar, and with him a drab Chinese woman whom Sally, Dana and Distribution didn't recognize.

"Welcome back to the Diversity States, Ambassador Salazar!" exclaimed the Distribution Undersecretary. Neither Dana nor Sally rebuked her directly for this, but Sally firmly took charge of the talking from this point.

"Welcome to NEW TEXAS, friends. Ambassador, will you introduce your companion?"

"Of course, citizens. Meet Hao Chi-Sheng, an official who has facilitated my peacemaking efforts in China. Ms. Hao also saved my life during an attack by a runaway robot aircraft."

"I greet you in friendship," said Chi-Sheng in heavily accented English. "Permit me to be quick about my business, and do not think me rude; for it is to the advantage of your own people to hasten the _distribution_ of the relief supplies we bring." She said the last part facing the Distribution Undersecretary, as if to confirm that she, Chi-Sheng, knew exactly whom she was addressing. But Sally Pitt pre-empted any speechifying that the worthless Undersecretary might have indulged in.

"Thank you, Ms. Hao. May we hear what manner of supplies are being so generously offered?"

"Of course. Eighteen metric tons of assorted non-perishable foods; nine tons of assorted medications, surgical supplies and hygiene items; five thousand cubic meters of compressed propane gas, since you use vehicles powered by propane; winter clothing sufficient for three thousand infants and small children, five thousand older children, and four thousand adults; two cargo containers of materials for the repairing of your electrical power grid; and three cargo containers of general-purpose tools for civilian uses."

"Your leadership in Beijing is truly generous," Dana said, to be polite.

"There is one small matter to be disposed of before off-loading of the relief supplies proceeds," Benito put in quietly.

"And what would that be?" asked Sally.

"A question, to begin with," said Hao Chi-Sheng. "Are the indications we possess accurate, that the former President Jessica Trevette was captured alive?"

"Yes, she was taken alive, by one of our people named Alipang Havens," answered Sally.

"I see. We wish to take her off your hands."
 
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"Yes! Yes! Whatever you say!" exclaimed the Distribution Undersecretary. Dana Terrell, however, held up a just-one-minute hand.

"Miss Hao, you surely understand that we don't _want_ Jessica Trevette around anymore. But there is one consideration here which you haven't been told about."

Benito turned indignant. "Forest Ranger, are you opposing the wishes of a _Chinese_ official?"

"Not opposing her wishes, Mister Ambassador; only inputting some input on those wishes."

"It's all right," said Hao Chi-Sheng to Benito, then faced Dana again. "What is the complication?"

"Miss Hao, Jessica Trevette has deserved nothing from any American but a gallows and a noose. However, someone _else_ has an interest in her case, and he _does_ have a rightful claim to our consideration. I refer to the man who, with his squad, actually captured Miss Trevette; he is also a friend of your own agent Peter Tomisaburo, whom your government kindly authorized to unmask himself so he could openly help our defense against the Aztlano invasion."

Chi-Sheng nodded. "You refer to Alipang Havens, one of your police auxiliaries, who also became friends with -- a researcher whom we sent to the Diversity States last year."

"That is correct," offered Sally Pitt. "The whole Havens family has always been a force for stability and reason."

"Not from the viewpoint of the Fairness Party!" Chi-Sheng laughed. "But who cares what the Fairness Party thinks now? Tell me more."

"At the time he captured Miss Trevette," Dana continued, "Alipang told her that, while he himself had cause to want her executed, his Christian conscience argued for mercy, in order that she might have a chance to confess her guilt to God and receive His forgiveness, instead of burning in--"

"Stop that!" barked Benito. "You're insulting the enlightened, superior Chinese culture!"

Chi-Sheng patted the toady-diplomat on the shoulder. "Easy, Benito. I appreciate your desire to uphold my dignity, but I'm not offended." She peered closely at Dana's uniform nametag before speaking again. "Where were we, Miss Terrell?"

"Begging your pardon, it's _Missus_ Terrell; I'm a recent widow. And I apologize to no one for what I believe; my faith promises me that someday I'll see my husband again."

Chi-Sheng suddenly smiled, and glanced at Benito as if wanting to see his reaction to what came next. "Mrs. Terrell, I _know_ that you'll see your husband again -- in the presence of the Lord Jesus Christ." Benito, and the Distribution Undersecretary, _both_ backpedalled as if the Chinese bureaucrat had just changed into a Wyoming grizzly.

Suppressing further laughter, Chi-Sheng shook Dana's hand, then accepted a handshake which Sally offered in return. "Mrs. Terrell, Miss Pitt, I am in fact a believer. There still are some restrictions on our activities, which is why I didn't tell Mister Salazar sooner; but we enjoy more freedom in Greater China today than we did even as short a time ago as when our government engineered the dissolution of the United States. Fourteen of my airship crewmen are also Christians.

"But to get back to the matter of your former President: if Beijing wanted her put to death, I could do nothing to change that. But it happens that Beijing _doesn't_ want her killed; after all, she did obey my government's orders for at least _most_ of her political career. Therefore, it _will_ still be possible for Jessica Trevette to find salvation. King Nebuchadnezzar, with the blood of many thousands of innocent victims on his hands, found the grace of the true God; so might Miss Trevette. But she will not simply go unpunished...."

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

"I understand that you asked to see me," said Alipang Havens, leaning on a wheeled walker because he had gone too fast in his efforts to regain fitness while his wounds were not yet healed.

"Yes, Doctor Havens, I did," replied Jessica Trevette in a thoroughly subdued voice, as she stood flanked by the Transport Police officers who had brought her to the hospital at her own request. She had been granted three minutes to speak with her captor, before she would be bundled into the passenger helicopter which would take her into Wyoming Sector to be handed over to the Chinese. "Since you were informed of my long-distance trial by the United Nations, and it was you who composed that remarkable message asking for clemency for me, I thought you would be interested to know how that turned out.

"First, rest assured that brainwave testing proves that you and I were telling the truth when we each stated that your desire for mercy to me _wasn't_ motivated by any sexual interest in me. So your reputation won't suffer. Second, it was precisely your moral authority, as a man who had so much cause to hate me, which made your appeal effective. My basic sentence is unchanged; but they _won't_ cut out my vocal cords as they had intended to do."

"And what's your basic sentence?" asked Alipang.

"Because of the takeover attempts that were made against Lunar Orchard, twenty new security officers are being added to the colony. All of them are male; and, since the old one-child policy still is showing its long-term effects, not one of them has a wife or a girlfriend. Accordingly, *I* have been sentenced to live in Lunar Orchard for the next fifteen years, and -- yes, you guessed it. All of them, in a rotation as their duties allow. If I conceive any babies, these will be kept alive in external incubation, to add to the gene pool on the Moon, but I will be allowed no influence on the upbringing of my own children or anyone else's. That was the main reason why they had in mind taking away my ability to talk; but they're settling for barring me from ever speaking to any colonial resident under the age of eighteen."

"And what happens when your fifteen years are over?" Alipang had hardly asked this question before he regretted it; he was afraid to learn that the Chinese intended to toss Jessica out into vacuum after she was all used up.

"After that -- and on this point my judges accepted brain-scan for _their_ truthfulness -- if I've consistently pleased all my 'clients' for the whole period, I'll be sent back to Earth, and allowed to earn a living as a cleaning lady at some office building."

Alipang nodded. "I hope, for your own good, that you realize in your heart that you are receiving _more_ mercy than you deserve -- although, if it had been up to me, I would have sent you directly to ordinary hard labor, without having men use you. On the other hand, a dear female friend of mine suffered far _worse_ in one of your Self-Esteem Centers than you are likely to suffer on the Moon. Her name is Summer; think of her now and then during the years ahead of you. And I promise, on my word as an _American,_ that I will pray for you; I will ask Almighty God _not_ to let your punishment be worse than you can bear, and I'll ask Him to make Himself known to you at last, so that you _won't_ end up frying in the Hell that you frankly deserve."

Jessica stared at Alipang as if seeing him for the first time ever. "If you genuinely believe that I deserve to be mercilessly tortured for all eternity, why pray for me to receive mercy?"

"Because," the victorious warrior told the vanquished tyrant, "God loves to give us _better_ than we deserve; it is only the foolish resistance of our stubborn pride that ever _hinders_ Him from doing so. And He enjoys a much _greater_ victory when evildoers are _converted_ than when they are merely punished. Try to remember that also. We couldn't allow you to go on actively doing harm; but now that you've been rendered harmless, my whole family will gladly join me in praying for your most wonderful redemption. Meanwhile, God will not consider it to be any additional sin on your part when you submit to what is being required of you without your willing consent."

Jessica looked at the officers who were about to lead her away, then said to her captor, "Well, if your prayers work, I'll try to let you know."

"Good. Then _you'll_ know what the expression 'casting bread on the waters' means. Goodbye, Jessica Trevette, and may the grace of Jesus find you, even on the Moon."
 
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Chapter 145: Broader Aftermath

Sugarstar Hamilton, bootlicking flunky by profession, hovered close to his master, Steven Jiang -- who, though stripped of his former powers as the Fairness Party's externally-imposed Governor of the former Texas Federal District, remained Sugarstar's only friend. Facing the two downfallen members of a downfallen ruling caste were two persons in uniforms. The businesslike military bearing of these two guaranteed that they were not to the liking of the uprooted pair; and the younger of the uniformed persons was positively repulsive to Steven and Sugarstar -- because she was a woman, one who actually looked like a woman.

Facing Steven and Sugarstar, as a moderately cold breeze heralded the progress of autumn in what had been upstate New York, were Major Helmut Karlen from the secret army of liberation, and the young Texan woman who was here as his contact person for cooperation with the decimated but victorious Texas Rangers: Sergeant Zella Greenlee. The fact that another female Ranger, Captain Martha Pollock, had warned the two heterophobic ex-aristocrats never to return to Texas on pain of instant death, did nothing to make Zella more appealing in their eyes. But Steven was enough of a politician to know that it was no use flattering the losers; you had to get on the good side of the winners if possible.

"Major Karlen, allow me to congratulate you and your peacekeepers for the progressive and enlightened way in which you have repudiated European racism and intolerance, as shown by your forces accepting the overall authority of African troops for this transitional period...."

Karlen shrugged. "Since most of what was the Diversity States will now come under the jurisdiction of the Liberian government, it's natural for the African Union to hold authority here. And since my people, and Sergeant Greenlee's people, share the essential values and goals of the Liberians, it simply was logical for us to act for them in the colder parts of the country, until more of their people grow accustomed to the American climate."

"In the interests of efficiency," Zella put in, clearly with Helmut's approval, "shall we get to the matter of why you requested to speak with Major Karlen?"

Sugarstar found the ill-timed boldness to exclaim, "Governor Jiang wants justice! The God-fascists, with the typical spitefulness of oppositional-defiant personalities, robbed him of--"

Zella gazed on the wimp with frosty amusement. Steven halted Sugarstar's chatter with a gentle restraining gesture, then took over: "Time will prove that the un-mutual radicals have injured their own population by depriving it of my experienced guidance. But I don't expect you to try to reverse the present flow of karma in a week or a month. What I do request is that, in the interval until sanity reasserts itself across the continent, I might be given some administrative post worthy of my talents."

"It's your lucky day, then!" Zella laughed.

Helmut Karlen went so far as to ratify Zella's laugh with a smile. "Citizen Jiang, you are in fact going to be assigned to an administrative job of sorts; and I see no reason why Citizen Hamilton should not continue as your aide. Here comes your new supervisor;" and he directed their attention to a black-haired woman in a warm coat who was walking toward them. "Gentlemen, meet Ms. Juanita Porres, who until recently worked for your Department of Indoctrination as the principal of Leon Trotsky Middle School in Georgetown, Delaware. Yes, I remember the old names of states; they just might be coming back into use in West Liberia. Anyway, since Trotsky, Ms. Porres has gained some new and very different insights regarding what were the merits of the Fairness Revolution."

"Major Karlen, good to see you again," said Juanita, "and you, Zella. So, are these two my new janitors?"

The way Steven and Sugarstar's mouths fell open in unison caused Zella to laugh again.

"Yes, they are," Helmut assured Juanita. "I introduce Ex-Governor Steven Jiang and Ex-Nothing-In-Particular Sugarstar Hamilton. Their personal belongings are being retrieved for them as we speak; you'll be able to start orienting them after you and they have had lunch."

"Excellent, Major, thank you." Juanita now addressed the two heterophobes: "I know something of your careers under the now-discontinued regime, and the two of you soon will find out what I've experienced lately. I'll tell you what I am now: I'm the new Warden of what used to be called the Attica Self-Esteem Center. It is known henceforth as the Richard Marquette Correctional Center. No connection with any older institution called Marquette; Attica's new name honors a man who died recently -- a better man than you can even comprehend.

"The two of you will make a valuable contribution to the environment in which many former Pinkshirts are going to be residing for some years to come. You doubtless recall how the government-owned enterprise Aero-Aquatics first rose to prominence by promoting the use of water-conserving toilets? What you might not know, since you always got to use elite facilities, is that the under-supply of water in those toilets led to sewers being clogged all over the country. Consequently, one aspect of rebuilding America will necessarily consist in replacing all those toilets with toilets which ACTUALLY WORK -- be those composting toilets or ones using ADEQUATE water. You two, in addition to ordinary janitorial work, will be helping to bring sanitary facilities up to date in the Richard Marquette Correctional Center. Don't worry, we won't expect you to be experts from the start; from each according to his ability, as the Distribution Department was fond of saying. But you'll gain in skill; you've got plenty of time to learn."

 
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Soon after Warden Porres took charge of Steven and Sugarstar, Major Karlen and Sergeant Greenlee, with several guards and assistants, boarded a commandeered Atmosfleet plane. Flying east over Long Island, they landed in a town which until now had been set aside as a playground for the Fairness Party elite. A posh restaurant there was going to be renovated as a conference center for officials of the newly-forming West Liberian government, and the Major was going to look the place over, in order to make recommendations for security measures around the enlarged building. These measures would not be those of a dictatorship keeping its own people at a distance, only the reasonable measures of a normal government.

In front of a tall sign that read "The Global Feast," three women and one man awaited Major Karlen's party. Karlen recognized the man, and the Hispanic woman who stayed close by him.

"Commander Tannenburg! Agent Cervantes! It's great to see you unafraid to be out in the open!"

"And it's good to see you at all, Helmut," replied the raven-haired wife of the former United States Navy intelligence officer. "And you clearly were told that we dropped our aliases, now that our worst enemies have been conquered. Only, remember that I'm now married to Morton; thus, henceforth, I am Gloria TANNENBURG."

Major Karlen humorously did a German heel-click. "I stand corrected."

Zella now gestured toward the other two women, who stood a pace or two back, nervously clasping hands. "And are these Miss Arabelli and Miss Lazzaro?"

These women both looked Italian, and both were as attractive as women around age fifty had any right to be when the Health Rationing Agency had not allowed them to receive telomere preservation. One, red-haired with some gray, said, "I'm Giulietta Lazzaro;" the other, black-haired with some gray, concluded, "And I'm Claudia Arabelli. She's the Tuscan, I'm the Sicilian."

Morton Tannenburg explained, "Miss Lazzaro and Miss Arabelli are still a _little_ worried that we're going to be upset with them for having waited on the elite parasites of the old regime."

"Well, _don't_ be worried," Karlen commanded. "Nobody blames you for having done what you needed to do to survive. We do have some intel on you -- recently brought up to date by a man you may have heard of. Do you remember a former N.Y.P.D. detective named Danny Alyard?"

Claudia looked blank, but the name rang a bell for Giulietta. "I believe I met him a time or two, back in the day. A white man who married a much younger black woman, right?"

"The same," Karlen affirmed -- though choosing not to mention that the Alyards' son Jackson was a secret agent for the nameless army. "Danny and Tashonda received permission to tour their old haunts in the big city, before the final blow-up with Aztlan. They picked up some information about you two, and the people who used to work for you. Danny then told -- some of our leadership -- that you ladies were good people, who had cooperated with the dictatorship no more than you were forced to. Accordingly, we see no reason why the two of you should not be allowed to go right on managing your restaurant, along with the expanded hospitality functions it will take in. We need solid, stable people like you."

Claudia and Giulietta hugged each other tightly, in undisguised relief. Then Claudia looked at the Major again. "Sir, we promise we'll give the new government the best service we possibly can. But perhaps we can ask a small favor in return?"

Zella ventured a guess: "Allow you to serve meat to ALL customers who want it, not only to the top aristocrats?"

"Well, that too," laughed Giulietta. "But what Claudia means to ask is, could you try to send some decent single men in our direction, anywhere between ages forty-seven and sixty-one?"

"Exactly!" exclaimed Claudia. "We're sick and tired of pretending that we _don't_ like men!"
 
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