The First Love Of Alipang Havens

Glenburne said:
Did the founders of the Pioneer youth organization take its name from that of the Young Pioneers in the Soviet Union?
Click to expand...

Yes, that is an intentional gesture on the part of Jessica Trevette and the other Fairness Party leaders. In the USSR, you didn't "have to" join the Pioneers as a child and Komsomol as a teen....unless you wanted to go to college or have a career.
 
After Ms. Culligan and Mr. Corbett had left the house, Dan caught Chilena's eye. Only their eldest child Cecilia overheard what her father said to her mother, but she knew what he meant:

"Janissaries."

No thanks to the politically-correct schooling she had been subjected to since the downfall of the United States, Cecilia Salisbury knew about the conscription policy of the old Ottoman Turkish empire. The Ottomans had "tolerantly" allowed Christians to live in their midst--because the Christians were useful. In particular, because the Christians had been a minority group, they had been on the bad end of the classic phenomenon of minorities not enjoying the same legal protections as the majority...which had meant that thousands of young sons of Christian parents could be, and were, forcibly taken into military training, becoming the Janissaries of the Sultan's army.

The petty empire of the Fairness Party might well have use for a literary Janissary to write propaganda.

Chilena drew near to her husband, who had been standing since he said goodbye to the visitors, and clasped his hands. "We already knew that we were skating on thin ice." Then she gave a non-verbal signal which Dan would recognize: she leaned her head forward to look down at the floor, then turned her head to look to the right, then tilted her head to the left. This, reflecting conversations they had had when working outside the Diversity States, meant: We can stay where we are, or emigrate to another country, or ask to be settled in the Enclave.

Cecilia, sensing that something was passing between her parents, ran interference for them by capturing the attention of her siblings--congratulating Tommy on his poetic triumph, and answering Irene's questions about the strange visit in kindergarten terms.

Dan whispered into his wife's ear, "It remains true that _each_ of our options allows us contact with some people, and each option cuts us off from some people."

"So we go on praying," Chilena whispered back. "But I know _which_ option just took a giant step tonight toward being untenable."

Then both parents turned their attention to praising Tommy for his vindication of his own talent. But they had barely started doing this when Chilena's dataphone rang. Answering it, she was in for a big surprise.

A deep-toned female voice addressed her: "Citizen Chilena Salisbury?"

"This is she. Who are you?"

"I am Overseer Captain Maria Butello, in charge of Campaign Against Hate operations for the Wyoming Sector of the Western Enclave. Don't be alarmed; the reason why I'm on the phone is to assure proper procedure in something I think you're going to like."

Dan and the children could all see the bafflement on Chilena's face. "What's this about? What am I supposed to do?"

"Go to your home communications console. Connect your phone to it, log on with the iris-reader to verify your identity for the system, and we'll set up a conversation for everyone in your household, with the person who actually owns the phone from which I'm speaking to you. Go ahead, we'll wait."

Vaguely telling Dan and the children that it was an Overseer offering a monitored communication with an unspecified person, Chilena performed the logging-in actions as instructed. When her dataphone was linked into the internet-audio matrix, she said to it: "We're ready here; the room speaker is on. Now please, who is our caller?"

"No one you know, but someone who knows members of your family," replied Captain Butello. "I'll put him on in a second; just let me tell you that the conversation is being recorded. The final recording will have any unacceptable speech edited out--not that I expect you to say anything improper. I'll still be listening. The editing feature is to your own advantage, because it means that you can be given a download of the sanitized audio. And I suspect you'll _want_ to keep a recording of this conversation."

"If you say so, Captain," Dan said, now standing close to Chilena.

"All right, here is your actual caller."

The next voice the Salisbury family heard was that of a teenage boy.

"Chilena Havens Salisbury? Are you there?"

"Yes, I am, with my husband and our children. Whom are we speaking to?"

"My name is Daffodil Ford. I'm an adjunct faculty member at one of the leading Tolerance Houses, currently engaged in free-form study of the internal-exile population. I'm informed that the exiles Eric and Cecilia Havens--"

A shriek from Chilena interrupted him in mid-sentence: "MOM! DAD! Oh God, please, they're not DEAD, are they??"

"No, no, not at all! When I last saw them in Casper, they were just fine. What I was saying was that I was told they had two daughters living outside the Enclave. I can't call the other one, because her connection with law enforcement places restrictions on strangers calling her. But when you have the recording of this conversation, you'll be able to let her hear it also. You see, the whole purpose of my calling you is to give you news of your exiled relatives, because I've met them and become friends with them."
 
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"We've _never_ gotten a phone call from _anyone_ inside the Enclave," Dan told the boy. "It seems too good to be true! How is this happening now?"

"I'll explain, Citizen Salisbury. First, let me tell you that you and Chilena were _awesome_ in The Self-Esteem of the Shrew! Next, in order for you to be more confident that all this is genuine, I have a message for Chilena: Alipang says that you always lost the dreadful duel of the prime numbers."

A yelp of disbelieving laughter escaped Chilena's lips. Irene tugged at her mother's trouser leg, saying, "Mommy, what's he talking about?"--to which the mother quietly answered, "He means he heard about a game your Uncle Alipang and I used to play." More loudly, Chilena addressed the unseen Daffodil Ford: "Yes, that does go a long way to authenticate you. Tell us more."

"I first learned of your family's existence when Alipang Havens was interviewed by Dynamo Earthquake," Daffodil continued. "And I'm acquainted with someone you must have heard about, Bert Randall from Australia, who got to meet Alipang himself a few months ago."

"We know who that is, all right," said Cecilia. "He shared pictures with us afterwards."

"Yes, I knew he did that. Now it's my turn to share something, and in my case, thanks to Captain Butello's generosity, I don't have to wait until I come out of the Enclave. Besides being interested in meeting Alipang and Kimberly, I had business to do in the Enclave; in fact, you should be amused to know that it was _show_ business! I was part of a live dramatization of Trip Conklin's novels. I played Vladimir Turgenev."

Dan and Chilena exchanged a silent eye-roll; they knew about "Churchbusters of the Galaxy," and had managed to _avoid_ being cast in any of the video adaptations thereof.

"Did Uncle Alipang come to see your show?" asked Tommy, who didn't know about the Churchbuster series. (Had the child known it, a postal letter from Alipang, containing a limited report of the presentation in Casper, was already slowly making its way to them through the censorship system.)

"That's Thomas Daniel, isn't it? Yes, Alipang did come, and so did your Grandfather Eric and your Uncle Terrance. Your uncles, oh, and your cousin Wilson too, even helped prepare for it, by clearing away snow from the outdoor stage. There was a kind of contest going on at the show, and the winners would get a chance to call someone outside the Enclave, in fact make a _holophone_ call so they could also see the people they called."

"I wish I could see Grandma," squeaked Irene. "Mommy says she's beautiful, but I only got a few pictures of her to look at."

"That was Irene," Dan informed Daffodil.

"Well, Irene, your Grandma Cecilia would like to see you too; but always remember, the collective knows best." (Hearing Daffodil say this, Dan and Chilena both guessed that he was trying to _prevent_ the conversation from veering onto any ground that would prompt any deletions in the recording.) "Anyway, your Grandpa entered the contest, and a funny man called Frodo Von Spock helped him with it."

"Who's Frodo Von Spock?" asked the young namesake of Grandma Cecilia. "We never saw him mentioned in any letters from the family in the Enclave."

"He's a _slightly_ eccentric fellow, originally from the Northwest Federal District; now he works in sanitation for the city of Casper. But the main thing is to tell you about this contest business. Eric and Cecilia Havens were hoping that if they won the contest, a conference call could be arranged, so they could see and speak with not only you folks, but also Melody and Emilio in Texas. When they _didn't_ win the prize, Grandma Cecilia was really sad; so I decided to see if I could give them something to make up for it.

"When I came up to Sussex with Alipang--hey, I almost forgot to explain to you, I'm actually boarding at his house now!--I contacted Captain Butello, to ask if I could allow Alipang and other relatives of yours to make calls on my dataphone. She said that triumvirate policy prohibits exiles making outside calls unless a special clearance is granted; but she said that I, as a non-exile, could act as a relay. So although Alipang and the others can't speak to you directly, I can pass news between you. And I'll be allowed to download the sanitized audio into my phone, then play it back at will; so all of your loved ones in the Enclave will get the chance to hear your voices."

Chilena and her household kept Daffodil and Captain Butello on the line for a _long_ time--so long a time, that Summer and her children, though not Evan, made it back soon enough to be able to add their own spoken greetings for the exiles. And Tommy got to recite his new poem, though not much was said to Daffodil about the circumstances of his composing it.
 
Far along though she was in her pregnancy, Melody Havens Vasquez would never let her husband _merely_ go to sleep on any of those too-rare nights when he was free to go to the same bed at the same time. She had no fear of any other woman ever stealing Emilio, but she was afraid every day of death stealing him. So she fitted at least a month's worth of love into every bedtime they could share; nor did she ever find him less than enthusiastic for her embraces. It helped matters that modern medicine had greatly reduced the uncomfortable sensations of pregnancy, even for mothers who did not have access to the convenience of live removal and incubation.

Thus it was actually providential that their landline phone did not ring until after eleven at night; it caught them in a resting lull between tender clinches. And since no one but family and authorities could reach this number, Emilio--after holding a kiss through two extra rings--leaned out from the bed to pick up the receiver.

"Hello, it's a good thing there's no more telemarketers in America."

"Emilio, you jalapeno, you!" laughed the voice of his sister-in-law Chilena. "Put this on speaker, so you can listen along with Melody. I've got good news; Dan and I pondered whether to wait for morning, but we decided you would both want to know it sooner."

While feeling for the speaker switch, Emilio asked, "What, did the union finally allow Evan to take on a client?"

Chilena's voice was now audible to her sister as well. "We hope for that soon. But this news is more surprising. You remember how the Australian gentleman shared pictures and stories with us from his tour of the Enclave when he got to know Al and Kim?"

"Of course I do," Melody assured her. "It brought them back to us so strongly, I don't think I've ever felt so good crying my eyes out. Unless it was when we got to see them on the news show before that; but of course, Mr. Randall's pictures included Mom and Dad and Harmony and Terrance."

"Melody had no more water-weight problem after seeing Mr. Randall's pictures," added Emilio; "she wept it all right out. Gave me the excuse to give her lots of extra kisses, too."

"Well, then, Emilio, prepare to kiss her some more, because she'll be crying happily again." As for that, Chilena sounded as if she also had been weeping. "Someone who knows Mr. Randall, and who has come to know Al and the others, has just rendered us a service like that of Mr. Randall."

"What do you mean?" said a bewildered Melody.

Emilio's instincts for investigating now spoke. "Wait, I remember Mr. Randall saying he had met a teenage boy who was wishing he could see the Enclave. Is that whom you mean?"

"Right! Daffodil Ford, from Boston: an aspiring actor, among other things. He has high enough connections that he's being allowed to tour the Enclave as Mr. Randall and his Chinese friend previously did. Mom and Dad boarded him at their house for a couple of days, and then he went up to Sussex with Al. He sympathized so much with the relatives--especially Mom--wishing for more contact with us out here, that he asked the Overseers to let him facilitate some communication. They wouldn't let Al or the others get ON the phone; but they allowed Daffodil to speak to us from Sussex, passing on messages from the family there, and accepting messages from us for them in return. So we've gotten to hear about goings-on in the Enclave that weren't in any letters."

"Wait a minute, how _much_ more than what's in letters?"

"Don't worry, Emilio, the Overseers were known to be directly monitoring, so nothing was said that could cause the family any embarrassment. Only painless, penalty-free family news."

"Has it been recorded?" asked Melody.

"Yes it has. So although at our end we didn't get to hear any family voices, Daffodil will see to it that everybody at his end gets to hear _our_ voices. Think what a lift it'll be for Mom to hear our voices!"

"She'll out-cry both of us, no doubt. But I wish I could have been in on it."

"You still can be. I don't just mean that you'll receive a download of our whole conversation with Daffodil Ford, though you _will_ get that. I also mean this: the Overseer who supervised the contact knows that not just anyone can phone your house, but she said that if everybody concerned behaves themselves, she'll arrange for _you_ to be able to make a call TO the boy's phone later on, while he's still in Wyoming. Then you can pass your own messages, and Mom and Dad will have the chance to hear _your_ recorded voice. Yours too, of course, Emilio."

"Sounds like an excellent Christmas present," said Emilio.

Melody was already gulping, as if anticipating later joyful sobbing. "Thank you, Chil-Chil. I love you SO much! Send that download as soon as it's ready." (She knew that, quick though the technology was, there could be administrative delays.) "Now excuse me, I feel the flash flood coming on."

"Okay, honey, I love you too, catch you later;" and Chilena signed off.

Emilio barely had time to replace the receiver on the phone, before his arms were full of his weeping, heavily pregnant, intensely adored wife. It took her crying, and his comforting of her, nearly half an hour to run their shared course, accompanied by prayers of thanks to God, before their embrace could reasonably turn back into erotic passion.

But by then, Melody and Emilio were both ready for the switch.
 
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Enough has happened since I posted the last summary on Page 126, that I feel justified in updating you folks again--before I provide more action for Emilio Vasquez, Texas Ranger.

The Enclave administration (ever stingy about letting the exiles enjoy the energy supplies which exiles labor to produce) observed the long Thanksgiving weekend by lengthening the time in which exile homes were cut off from public electrical power. Thus those houses with solar panels or other independent energy resources, like both Havens residences, were shelters for as many neighbors as they could accommodate.

Trip Conklin's live-action sci-fi show, pitting "heroine" Osmawani Jalil against "Nazi mutants," was meeting the chilly reception it deserved at its first performances; but Trip and his government sponsors increased the prize offered in the contest for book-buyers. Coming to Casper for the last performance on the day after Thanksgiving, Daffodil very suddenly found himself drawn into the first romantic relationship of his life, with a teenage girl named Skydazzle whose "caregiver" was a technician for the show. This, however, lasted less than 24 hours before Skydazzle moved on to another boy. But it lasted long enough for Daffodil to try his first taste of meat when dining with the girl, only to find it upset his vegan-trained stomach. Alipang, Terrance and Wilson ended up assisting in the setup for the show, by clearing away snow from the outdoor location. Soon after the performance, Alipang and Daffodil met for the first time.

Eric and Alipang bought books from Trip Conklin, both because of the lure of the contest which offered an outside holophone call, and in order to take pressure off Sarbar and Dalbir Pitafi, who were supposed to be facilitating sale of the novels. Eric showed that he knew the science-fiction genre; but then he learned to his dismay about the requirement for contest participants to write an essay _praising_ the Fairness Party's tyranny. Frodo Von Spock offered to be a proxy, acting as the contestant where Havens family book purchases were concerned, then yielding the outside-calling opportunity to the Havens family in the event of his winning. But all this proved academic; they didn't have any of the "lucky" copies of the Churchbuster books.

Parting company painlessly with Trip and Osmawani, accepted as a paying boarder at the Havens home in Casper, and soon going with Alipang to the _other_ Havens home in Sussex, Daffodil was quickly made aware of how vastly different Alipang and Kim (who lavish love and attention on their children) are from his mother Samantha (who barely acknowledges her son's existence). He also acquired an instant crush on Alipang's Chinese-born sister Harmony, who is about four years older than Daffodil. Before long, Daffodil was learning about the nature of Ransom and Lydia's romance, and in turn explaining to Ransom how the Tolerance Houses operate. He also found ways he could use his upper-class privileges to do good turns for the exiles: first ordering replacements for the musical instruments which Overseers had smashed at Abraham Zondei's church, and later using his telephone privileges to relay news between the exiled Havens family and the Havens family members _outside_ the fence.

And looking way, WAY outside the fence, Brendan Hyland went on a secret errand, accompanying a Swiss-born former banker, Etienne LaClede. Brendan and Etienne took a flight, as "tourists," up to the Orbital Palace, where they met with General Yang Pang-Zhu of the Chinese Aerospace Force, no relation to our friend Yang Sung-Kuo. They discussed with General Yang the secret army's plan for a covert mission into Switzerland, to obtain information which might be beneficial both to China and to "the good guys." As a condition for China's cooperation, they were told that they would have to take along on the mission an observer for the Chinese government: this observer to be none other than the Burmese Nyunt Zeyar. (Remember, in this future, Burma has been brought under Chinese rule.)

Back on Earth, honest law-enforcement officers, led by Inspector Leroy Lincoln, captured one of the Aztlano infiltrators who had earlier taken the places of missing Diversity States Marshals. Leroy passed as much information about this as he could to the Texas Rangers, via the "Sky Ranger" Colt Finnegan. Meanwhile, Evan Rand was uneasily adjusting to the dishonesty and manipulation constantly occurring in the labor union he had to join. A genial union thug named Dobie acted as his mentor.

Henry Spafford, physically recovered from his ordeal at the hands of "rogue" Overseers, was nonetheless depressed in spirits because his efforts to accomplish good seemed so often thwarted. Accordingly, to get his hero-groove back, he set out on an improvised and Christianized version of an Apache vision quest.

Finally, just before the communication stunt by Daffodil which has been mentioned, Chilena's brilliant son Tommy was called into question as to whether his writing talents were genuinely his own, rather than somehow being faked. Conducting a sort of aptitude test were the boy's teacher, Wilma Culligan...and the very same Pinkshirt who previously was in the Enclave and tried to get Alipang in trouble.
 
Chapter 61: The Stakes Get Higher

On Saturday morning, Emilio was assigned to meet some newly sworn-in Texas Rangers who were to serve in Ranger aviation, and give them a tour inside the one Texas Tu-95 that was currently parked alongside the hangars at Fort Stockton's airfield. The air that day was chilly; just yesterday, the sunlight had been put to hard work--helped in places by reflectors and magnifying lenses to get the most benefit from the natural energy source--melting away the icing from a freezing rain. Either Emilio was imagining it, or else the Rainbow House administration had never bothered allocating any of the country's limited weather-control resources to preventing Texas from being hit by freezing rains in winter. He was glad that Rangers were allowed to wear ear coverings under their cowboy hats.

While he was giving the new Rangers an introductory talk standing near the ex-Russian bomber plane, he noticed two airfield mechanics, a man and a woman, pushing some kind of equipment cart nearby. Both of them looked uncannily familiar to Emilio; and it only got more uncanny when the woman made a fingers-on-lips hushing gesture in his direction.

So the aviation sergeant continued his assigned activity, showing his tour group every workstation inside the aircraft and explaining more about the air-defense mission. After this, the new Rangers would go inside one of the buildings which had space reserved for the Rangers' use; there they would hear a lecture from an operations officer. As they re-emerged from inside the bomber and began heading for shelter and warmth, Emilio saw the woman mechanic subtly beckoning to him--whereupon he abruptly realized that this mechanic was no less than Commandant Brittany Pierce, alias Ranger Number One.

Emilio told his companions to go ahead and report to Room 17; then he turned back to approach his commanding officer. Now that he knew who she was, he could also recognize the man with her: Captain Jed Brickhouse, the highest-ranking Texas Ranger after Vice-Commandant Pablo Sotero.

"What's going on, Commandant?" Emilio half-whispered. But while he was asking this, the other two were walking, as if going about their business, only stopping when they stood under one of the big airplane's swept-back wings.

"What's going on is nothing good," replied Commandant Pierce. "We're standing here because we can't be sure that the people behind it don't have access to surveillance-satellite imagery. We don't want any overhead pictures being taken of you acting stunned and horrified. So be ready to show no emotion once you step out from under this wing." She next glanced at Brickhouse.

"Vice-Commandant Sotero is dead," Brickhouse pronounced flatly. "And this airplane we're standing next to, is almost the only Bear we have left."

"I was off duty," resumed Pierce, aware that Emilio knew she took very little vacation time, since her children were grown....and the genetic authorities had not permitted those children to have any children, because of some negative health history in the family. "So as acting commandant, Sotero was working in my office yesterday. A bomb was planted in that office; and men identifying themselves as D.S. Marshals were in the building the same day."

"What, some of those Aztlanos posing as Marshals?" gasped Emilio.

"Yes, but there's a lot more; let her finish," hissed Captain Brickhouse.

"The Aztlanos had reckoned without the bomb-detecting chemical sensors in Ranger Headquarters," Pierce resumed. "The emergency system dumped muffling cement over the bomb, reducing the blast enough that it killed no one. Then Sotero scrambled all Rangers in the building at the time. He knew about your shrewd guess after that border incident, Emilio, so he knew that Marshals were suspect. In short, the Rangers looked for those Marshals and demanded to question them; the Marshals, that is FAKE Marshals, had friends who opened fire. Our guys killed eight of the hostiles, and took three more alive...but not without our losing five good Rangers, including Pablo Sotero."

Without delay, in view of the warning already given, Emilio fought and won the battle to suppress his emotions. Managing a steady voice, he said, "Then is Captain Brickhouse now our Vice-Commandant?" Brickhouse merely nodded, after which Emilio added, "And there wasn't anything in the news about this!"

"That's a state-controlled media system for you," replied Pierce, then continued: "There's more besides. Last night, more bombs were planted--at our Dallas airfield. No explosion-suppressants there; all of the Tu-95's parked there were destroyed, with two more Rangers who were on watch duty, besides some wounded. As of now, this plane here, the unarmed model for President Trevette, and the Bear that Finnegan and Jessup were flying on a night patrol, are the ONLY Tu-95's in our arsenal. That also is covered up for now--as if our enemies didn't already know."

"But weren't our Mexican friends going to be building some brand-new planes on the same design for us anyway?" asked Emilio, in a clutching-at-straws mood.

"Yes, they intend to; but they have to hold off a little while, to see if any political moves are made against that action in the Hemispheric Union. You know how Venezuela tries to prevent the Mexican Alliance from flexing too much muscle. In the meantime, though, your friend who flew the Stegosaurus with you is coming up to assist us with a stopgap measure. You'll know about that soon enough; but I need to bring this around to where YOU fit in."

"Go ahead, ma'am, I'm listening."

"We were able to transmit genetic data to....a certain lady you once danced with....on the killed and captured infiltrators. She in turn was able to determine, from her own sources, that several of these culprits were men she knew to be in the service of El Presidente Formentera; not only that, but also connected with the men who were captured the day you played bait over the Stegosaurus. The Aztlanos have been busy little bandits; and I dearly want to know if the Marshals their infiltrators replaced were victims, or accomplices. But now for your part in the situation:

"Based on your judgment in anticipating the infiltration, as well as your exemplary performance of duty in general, I'm making you a lieutenant, effective instantly. Your promotion is already in the database. But that's a trivial detail. More importantly, I'm making you the guardian angel of our new Vice-Commandant."

"What, ma'am, a bodyguard? Of course that's an honor, but isn't it--?"

"--outside your usual job description? So was undercover work, but you did well enough at that. Relax, I'm not going to let your main talents go to waste. Captain Brickhouse is going to hide out with you... IN MID-AIR.

"Look, here's where we stand in the aftermath of our losses. The next officer in line after Brickhouse here is Martha Pollock, who commands our patrol boats out of Galveston. Wade Sampson, you remember him, in charge of Austin, is next most senior after her. That gives us a good line of succession, in case I buy my farm too. But we need to deny our enemies the chance to make a clean sweep. Therefore, from now until we KNOW the danger is past, Brickhouse, Pollock, Sampson and I must NEVER all be in one place at the same time. Pollock and Sampson are more in need of instructions, in case they have to succeed to command, than Brickhouse is; therefore, during the next few days, I'm going to be busy bringing them up to speed...while YOU are keeping Brickhouse hidden in plain sight, flying helicopter patrols with you."

"Um, what about Melody?"

"We'll take measures to ensure her safety; still deciding which measures. But now, go join your greenhorns in the classroom. You'll soon be contacted by Juan Riquelme, who'll tell you more."

So Emilio had the duration of the walk to the building to process the realization that more of his fellow Rangers had perished in the line of duty; and that his own duty was leading him on unexpected paths yet again.
 
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Poor Melody. Being pregnant at this point in Emilio's life doesn't sound like the easiest thing in the world. (Although neither does being a Ranger.)
 
On the day after the newly-promoted Lieutenant Vasquez learned of the latest misfortune to befall the people of Texas, one-third of the world away two other men were going about their own part of the fight against evil.

Their day's activity--the relevant part of it--began in front of a mosque in Zurich, Switzerland: a mosque which had formerly been the Tonhalle concert theater. There they bowed down on their prayer rugs at the midday prayer time; but one of the men was not praying to Allah at all, and the other was not praying to any concept of Allah that the crowd surrounding him would have deemed acceptable.

One of these men was a moderate Muslim from Morocco, named Akhmed Ballul; his was the only African Muslim country NOT to have let itself be subordinated to the Egyptian Caliphate.

The other man was an agent of the supposedly-disbanded Israeli Mossad, named Yirimyahu Kohen, though he was currently going by the name of Hassan Ali. Yirimyahu had already been assigned in Europe at the time Israel had nearly perished; forced to disarm itself and rely on China for protection, the Israeli government had managed--before the Chinese commandeered all secret communications assets within Israel--to pass word to Mossad agents to stay abroad and lie low, for they would eventually be contacted by friends who knew the recognition signals.

After years of waiting, the promised friends had begun to show up. Most of them had been Polish citizens, including a certain Stan Lewandowski and a certain Tiberiu Parnescu. Having someone to coordinate their efforts once more, the dispersed Mossad agents had set out to make up for lost time. The way agents in North Africa had done this was to cultivate moderate Muslims who had seen members of their families murdered for not being fanatical enough.

One such Muslim was Akhmed Ballul, who had lost ALL of his relatives who were in the Egyptian Caliphate to Islamist Sharia courts eager to hand out death sentences. Being a Moroccan businessman who could plausibly have business in the European Caliphate, Akhmed had been put in touch with Yirimyahu. As Hassan Ali, the Mossad agent had stepped into the role of a bodyguard and secretary to the Moroccan businessman, so that where Akhmed went, Hassan could also go.

Now, the two of them were helping to prepare the way for the same secret mission which Etienne LaClede and Brendan Hyland--neither of whom Akhmed or Yirimyahu had ever met--had recently discussed with a Chinese general in outer space.

When prayer time ended, the two men rolled up their rugs and caught a particular bus on the Bahnhofstrasse, which would pass the vicinity of another mosque. This mosque had formerly been the Swiss headquarters of the James Joyce Foundation. During the bus ride, "Hassan" spotted an "old friend" getting on the bus from the second mosque, and shook hands with him. Nanobots passed from the Israeli agent's skin into the skin of his friend--who was an agent for the government of India. This agent would later place his hand onto a reader device, which would enable him to see the nanobots' message, a report of what the Israeli and the Moroccan were preparing to do.

Next, Akhmed and Yirimyahu went to the former Landesmuseum, which was now an Islamic museum, dedicated to claiming that ALL positive accomplishments Europe had EVER produced, including those that happened before Muhammad was born, were due to Islam. Strolling through this museum, Akhmed met and greeted a "business associate" in the same way as Yirimyahu had greeted the man who joined them on the bus. Akhmed's contact, receiving the same information as the Indian, was a Brazilian-born free-lance agent in the hire of the Mexican government.

With these preliminaries attended to, Akhmed and Yirimyahu-alias-Hassan went to the Righteous Crescent Islamic Bank of Zurich...which was the very place where Etienne LaClede had worked when it had a different name. They entered the Outer Office, to which all electronic communications of outside origin came. Being a valued customer (with much of his wealth supplied by India and Mexico, the better to make him impressive by his affluence), Akhmed was permitted, with his bodyguard AND a bank-guard escort, to proceed from there to the Inner Office. The Inner Office was that place which Mr. LaClede had described as isolated from outside internet contact. Akhmed's pretext for going there was to place a locked container full of precious gems in his own safety-deposit box. (The new management of the Swiss bank was not granting quite such total anonymity as the Swiss had granted in their day.)

The Inner Office was on the top floor of a tall building, and possessed security features including attack dogs--who of course were handled by dhimmi, so that no Muslim would be defiled by touching a dog. There was no danger of the dhimmi dog-handlers ever turning their dogs against their superiors, for if they did, the dog-handlers' families would be executed. In the hearing of the bank guards, as he was placing the gems in his box (which could be opened only by his biometrics, or by a large explosion), Akhmed told Yirimyahu, "When I select a fourth wife, I will give her one of these stones for each season of the year."

"Then she'll try to convince you that the Earth really has eight or nine seasons!" laughed the incognito Israeli.

After the two men left the Inner Office, the nanobots which had come in with the gems began creeping out of the safety-deposit box. Distributing themselves around the building's interior, they took up a silent vigil over the core computer that had no outside contacts. Only when LaClede's party conducted its raid, adding other nanobots, would all the nanobots unite to form a virtual-antenna gestalt. This array would be able to read the contents of the computer, though no technology known to man could read those contents from OUTSIDE the shielded Inner Office. And the splitting of nanobots for the operation between two parties was a way of ensuring that the information obtained would be shared between those parties.

Departing, Akhmed and Yirimyahu both silently thought about the loved ones they had both lost to Islamic extremism. This whole mission was not even going to avenge those loved ones in any way worth mentioning; but it might at least cause harm to friends of the extremists.
 
That Monday, Nyunt Zeyar (on leave from the space station) accompanied Brendan and Etienne on a Chinese-provided flight to Nigeria, to meet with leaders of the army that bore no name. In connection with this namelessness, Brendan asked the massive Burmese man at one point: "Have you ever heard of Clint Eastwood?"

"I know he was an American movie actor who played a police detective."

"Well, before those movies, Eastwood became a celebrity by playing a Western gunslinger who never told his name. People actually called his character 'The Man With No Name.' So I've been telling Etienne and the others that we should call ourselves the Clint Eastwood Brigade, to name ourselves for having no name."

Nyunt paused in thought, then replied, "But I also remember reading this about Mr. Eastwood, that like so many Hollywood stars, he left his first wife for another woman. Perhaps you ought not name your organization after a man who was less honorable than you are. Not that we Asians as a group are any less capable of betraying a spouse than you Westerners are; but you can brain-scan me for truthfulness when I tell you that I take no woman but my wife. Anyway, I know you to be honorable; I'm well trained in reading such things about people. "

= = = = = = = = = = =

Among those present at the covert meeting in Onitsha, besides Nigerian military officers who were supporters of the secret network, Nyunt met Father Okigbo the clever priest, and Helmut Karlen, the army officer from that part of Germany which had kept free from the European Caliphate by attaching itself to Poland. The Burmese did in fact submit himself to a brainwave test, to confirm his trustworthiness in more areas than marital fidelity. In return for his disclosing various facts that he was authorized to disclose, Nyunt learned some things that were new to him, and as far as he could tell, new also to his superiors. This included the fact that Israeli Mossad agents were making a contribution to the currently-pending operation, though the agents were not identified as individuals.

Another meeting was agreed upon, to take place in a week; for this one, the Chinese side would be represented by persons ranking far higher than the Burmese observer. When his part in events was completed for the present, Nyunt bade farewell to Brendan and the others, and flew back to Beijing.

After delivering his report to the Chinese intelligence service on Tuesday in the late afternoon, and before taking off to spend time with his family in Burma until he was needed again, he went to see Major Yang and his family at their apartment.

Yang Sung-Kuo was pleased to see his spacefaring friend. After hospitable politeness had been observed, the internal-affairs officer told Nyunt, "This is a good time for you to have come by. Foreigners have been loitering near the United Nations in increasing numbers lately."

"Is there a General Assembly debate at this time which you think might be of interest to them?"

"Several. But the feeling I get, is that if anything is attracting the attention of strangers, it's the status of Hawaii. You remember how Bert Randall and I were attacked when we passed through Hawaii. That new nation is not yet finalized in its affiliation with the Pacific Federation; and someone might yet be hoping to move it in a different direction. We're already analyzing the possibilities, of course, as is military intelligence; but I'd like your input. I'd like to show you the recent holographs of potentially suspicious persons, and let you apply your eidetic memory to seeking any clues about them."

"If I do that, it needs to be this evening. Tomorrow, I plan to be back home with my wife and children."

"Then, with Tupsim's permission," said the Major, glancing at his own wife, "we'll run over to my office right now."
 
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While riding an elevator in a building belonging to the Ministry of Internal Affairs, Major Yang said to Nyunt Zeyar:

"When we look at the world through Beijing's eyes, we classify everything outside Greater China according to who can cause us any trouble. The United States is no more, and with it vanished our greatest opposition. India is strong enough that we could never conquer it without suffering enormous losses ourselves; but the Indians maintain a defensive posture, not committing any aggression. Russia is rebounding in population, thanks to advances in the field of fertility technology; but they can't get back the land we already took from them, and they're smart enough not to try. The African Union has become a strong player, but is still busy improving conditions for its own member countries. The Mexican Alliance is also strong now, but well-behaved generally.

"With those powers accounted for, any other threat, to be a serious threat, will have to involve a _combination_ of smaller enemies, like a pack of hyenas harassing a solitary lion. Each of the several Caliphates has some power to make trouble; but they are hampered by rivalries among themselves, and of course they have shown the world enough tyranny by now that they no longer can fool anyone with a pretense of friendliness. Yet one or another of them could collude with, say, the Venezuelan Alliance or Brazil, to gain some advantage on the world scene. Or the new Republic of Alchatka might become the shared friend that brings Canada and Russia together to dominate the resources of the Arctic Ocean."

"But you spoke of Hawaii," Nyunt reminded him, as they got off the elevator at Major Yang's floor.

"So I did--for I'm not quick to forget a place where men tried to kill me. Especially when one of those men was Chinese, a member of a Triad gang. The Diversity States, after yielding control of Hawaii, approved of Hawaii joining the Pacific Federation. The Hawaiian people, after all, can't really prosper all on their own, unless they're content to live like their ancestors of a thousand years ago. If they won't be part of America anymore, what logical recourse remains to them but the Pacific Federation?"

"Becoming a territory of Greater China?"

"Take it easy, you don't have to make a point of sounding loyal with me. Now that we've got our chunk of Russia, we have no land-area problem for our population anymore. We don't NEED Hawaii for anything--least of all for a base against an American adversary that no longer exists. Can you think of any OTHER option the Hawaiians might have?" Yang looked as if he expected a particular answer.

"Keeping their full sovereignty, but being a member of the Western Hemisphere Union?"

"Precisely. They can't both be in the Pacific Federation and have a seat in the Bi-Continental Assembly. But as members of the Hemispheric Union, they could expect a restoration of tourism and outside investment. The native Polynesians, however, are mostly inclined in favor of the Pacific Federation, because there they would be associating with kindred peoples of numerous island nations. So who would gain more advantage from Hawaii joining the Hemispheric Union, rather than the Pacific Federation?" By this point, the Major was unlocking his office door by means of the eye-scanner.

"Someone who wants to operate in Hawaii, and who judges that there would be less interference with their plans if Hawaii were enrolled as a Western Hemisphere state."

"Right. Even with the United States gone, the Western Hemisphere collectively wields more military potential than the Pacific Federation does; but the Pacific leaders are sharper, better organized, more forward-looking than many of the Western Hemisphere's leaders. If someone from outside Hawaii wants a base there, they would prefer less, not more, likelihood of someone as smart and alert as a Bert Randall checking on what they're doing. So if they can, such plotters will want to change the D.S.A.'s mind about favoring Pacific Federation membership for Hawaii. Not that the D.S.A. has any power to force Hawaii to change its plans, but in combination with others, it could influence a change."

Nyunt Zeyar took a seat in front of what he recognized as a holographic set with which he could be shown the images of the foreigners who had been seen outside the United Nations headquarters. "May I safely assume that the plotters are likely to be, or at least to include, the Triad gang which tried to murder you in Hawaii?"

"That's what seems likely to me--and, to the extent that I'm let in on foreign intelligence, it seems likely to our spies as well. The Triads are no longer as powerful as they once were; but that brings us to the matter of combined threats. If the Triads can get well entrenched in Hawaii, this would facilitate their collaborations with the Aztlano regime, and with the Venezuelan Alliance if the Venezuelans are interested.

"So what we want, is to prevent packs of hyenas from growing larger."
 
Nyunt Zeyar sat and studied one holographic human head after another. There were several men and women of assorted nationalities whom he had seen at one time or another, either here in Beijing or up in space aboard the Orbital Palace; but none of them seemed to be of great consequence. Until--

"Major, who's this woman?" The Burmese was looking at an African woman, who appeared to be a quite healthy fifty years old.

"Lana Bidalo, from Zimbabwe: an executive with an ocean shipping company. What is it you remember about her?"

"Within my very first month working at the Orbital Palace, she was a guest there; and she was accompanied by a South American fashion model. Two months later, they came up together again, to attend our first women-only celebration. They did everything together, seemed as if they had known each other forever. And the model was none other than Juanita Milagros, the aide to D.S. Ambassador Carlota Ruiz."

"Now, _that's_ interesting," said Major Yang, "in view of the fact that Lana Bidalo was in Hawaii only last week, ostensibly negotiating to renew the harbor-usage agreements her company had enjoyed with Hawaii while it still was American territory. Nyunt, we're going to take some policemen with us, and pay a visit to a hotel, and then to the Diversity States Embassy."

= = = = = = = = = = =

"This is contrary to both the spirit and the practice of diplomatic courtesies!" Carlota Ruiz yelled at Major Yang, while Juanita Milagros played counterpoint with a stream of curses in Spanish. The two women had cause to be annoyed, having been called away from private recreation to confront a hard-faced security officer.

"But it's consistent with your safety, Ambassador," Major Yang replied, "and with your government's presumed wish that you correctly reflect its chosen policies."

Nyunt Zeyar, caught up in the excitement, made so bold as to add a few words of his own to Ambassador Ruiz. "Ambassador, your aide is known to be associated with a foreign national who may be interested in swaying your policy."

Since Yang had been about to announce the same fact, he did not chide Nyunt for stating it; but he carried on from there. "That person, a Zimbabwean businesswoman, has been picked up for questioning. We are already contacting your President Trevette about this. We are informing her that we intend to examine you for signs of chemical or nanotechnic tampering, inviting American officials to monitor every step of the procedure. There are many ways of subtly programming you, nudging your thoughts in a desired direction without harming you or altering your basic personality; and who better to perform this work than someone who is with you every day and every night?"

Juanita suddenly leaned against Carlota and kissed her, saying, "Querida, you were a good boss. I regret that I won't remember you." Then she stepped back, and loudly hummed six musical notes.

Yang knew that it was possible for nanobots injected into a person's blood to be triggered for their function by a chosen sound permeating the host's body. He instantly barked into his wrist communicator: "Nanomedical teams, to the D.S. Embassy and to Detention Center Three!"

A shrill, gasping whine from Juanita rose above the Major's voice. "No! It was only--supposed to--make me forget--!" As a horrified Carlota vainly grabbed at her companion, Juanita went into convulsions. The supermodel's enhanced hair, as if in a farewell display, changed colors four times in three seconds....almost preventing the witnesses from seeing the blood that streamed out of both her ears.

Juanita Milagros died as she hit the floor, amid Carlota's shrieks.

But the emergency medical team, arriving at the Embassy as quickly as they could, was not too late to do some good; without waiting for permission, they hooked Carlota Ruiz up to complex life support, in case anything had also been triggered which could endanger her life. Nano-Bio-Info-Cognitive technologies enabled many kinds of attacks on a person's mind and life; but China's medical community was doing well at staying ahead of them. If help could have been on the scene _before_ Ms. Milagros triggered her own unexpected suicide device, she could probably have been kept alive, to answer questions.

It soon developed that there had been gradual biochemical tampering with Ambassador Ruiz, probably introduced through her food. The Ambassador soon was back to normal consciousness, grieving for Juanita but ready to ask and answer questions. Carlota's grasp of the seriousness of the situation was improved when she learned that Lana Bidalo had died not long after she was detained, in the same way as Juanita, and with the same appearance of not having expected to die.

Carlota was able to confirm that Juanita had occasionally said things to the effect that Hawaii would benefit by joining the Western Hemisphere Union; but she had no knowledge of who might have been using Juanita to manipulate her.

Aside, Major Yang muttered to Nyunt Zeyar, "One lead to follow would be that other diplomatic worker, Nalani Hahona, who worked with Ambassador Ruiz previously. But that's outside my jurisdiction. You need to get home to Burma now. Thanks for your help."

"I wish it had turned out more happily," sighed the big Burmese.
 
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A much happier event occurred on Wednesday in Canberra. This city still was the capital of Australia, and now was also the hub of much activity for the Pacific Federation, though Palikir in Micronesia was the Federation's official capital. Today, Australia's population of Americans naturalized into Australian citizenship was being increased by three: three Egyptian-Americans, to be specific.

In front of the domed structure of the Australian War Memorial stood Ekala Parwasha, Deputy Chief Justice of the Family Court of Australia. As a personal friend of Bert Randall (he had numerous friends in her ancestral tribe), she had facilitated rapid naturalization of Bert's new wife and stepchildren. So now it was she who led Ma'at Randall, Meretseger Randall and Montu Randall in their oath of loyalty to Australia and to the Pacific Federation. When their oath was complete, a bagpipe band hired by Bert struck up "Waltzing Matilda"--to which music, the joyous family pulled the dignified judge into a sort of spontaneous line-dance. Also present, and soon also drawn into the victory-dance, were Bert's parents, and several faculty members of the university where Bert was accredited as a researcher.

Many minutes later, as beer and lemonade were being served out and eagerly consumed (Australia being in its summer), Judge Parwasha asked Ma'at, "What, besides dancing and besides kissing this tall fellow, is going to be your first official act as an Australian citizen?"

"To kiss YOU!" shouted Ma'at, and did so, laughingly. "Next, I need to say something to my husband, but it's no secret. Bert, I'll love you till I die, and then after."

"The same from me to you," Bert said most solemnly. "But there's something else too, isn't there?"

"Yes, darling. Up until today, you've maintained a tomb-like silence on the subject of conditions in America's Western Enclave, because the children and I still were technically Diversity States citizens. You didn't want to take any risk of us getting in trouble because of any action on your part. But now, the accursed Fairness Party, and its triple-accursed Campaign Against Hate, have permanently lost all jurisdiction over us. And you know that what Nash Dockerty did to me was a human-rights violation."

"So was the treatment you suffered earlier in the Great Lakes Cantonment," interjected Judge Parwasha, who by now was deeply familiar with Ma'at's history. "But the world winks at it. Not that I'm saying your husband shouldn't seek some justice for you, now that the wrongdoers no longer have any means to bring reprisals against you for it."

"I hope you don't think I just want revenge," said Ma'at. "Other exiles in the Enclave, whom I now call my brothers and sisters in Christ, are still being treated like scum, by men who ARE scum."

"And I don't like that any more than you do, sweetheart," Bert told her while drawing her into his arms. "Anytime you're ready, we can round up some journalists, and videocord your testimony about everything you suffered. But we'll need the testimonies of multiple victims to have the impact we want. Since China wants to be seen as more humane today than they were, and indeed they ARE more humane, they won't be too happy about having to admit before the United Nations that the regime THEY sponsored for America does these injustices."

Oddly enough, it was less than an hour later that an encrypted international call came to Bert's dataphone, from an officer of the same superpower he had spoken of. Major Yang, with the permission of his government, informed the Australian adventurer that there were efforts afoot, on behalf of parties unknown, to sabotage Hawaii's inclusion in the Pacific Federation.
 
The chapter just completed is the result of several realizations I had:

1) I needed to let the reader SEE more of what was going on in the international intrigues which will be affecting my characters.

2) It was high time for the reader to be shown how things were going with Bert, Ma'at, Meretseger and Montu.

3) I hadn't killed off any "known" characters in quite awhile.
 
Chapter 62: Working in Wyoming's Winter Land


Lorraine Shao had barely had time to settle into the domestic routines of the apartment she now shared with her new husband, in the housing block adjoining Power Station 27; and now, while Bill was working a night shift on Friday night, she had a prestigious visitor.

Like the Overseers doing their "lock checks," the Undersecretary of Sustainable Energy opened the apartment door unannounced. Indeed, one of the two armed men accompanying the veteran bureaucrat was an Overseer; the other was one Sergeant Pasquale, the same Transport Police officer who had met Alipang on the morning of Trip Conklin's public appearance in Casper. Springing up from bed at the sound of their entrance, Lorraine scarcely had time to throw on a dressing-gown (handmade by one of the ladies at church, and bought for Lorraine by Bill) before she was being expected to converse with a member of the ruling triumvirate of the Enclave.

"Undersecretary, is there something out of order?" Lorraine dared not even ask whether Bill was in any trouble; if he was, she would find out only too quickly.

"Only something that's better said without other station personnel knowing I spoke to you. The only person who even _might_ pose any threat to you right now is no one in the administration or law enforcement...but rather, your partner's delightful co-worker Aretha Shabazz."

Lorraine's initial rush of dread had passed by now. The Undersecretary, after all, had no cause for hostility toward Bill. She unconsciously reached a hand up to smooth her hair down; it was tending to fly up in the static-filled winter air. "What, is she calling ME a white supremacist now?"

"She might be, soon; so I felt I owed you a warning."

"What, is this something to do with the Ombudsman position?" The Wyoming Sector had been without a permanent Energy Ombudsman since Odette Galloway was injured by the grizzly. Lorraine had been hoping that her husband would be granted this appointment, which gave no increase in pay but did bring prestige. Lorraine had also known that Ms. Shabazz had been insisting that she, by mere virtue of existing, was entitled to be Ombudsman.

"Yes. Bill's role in setting things right when Citizen Spafford was--misplaced for awhile--merely added weight to his already-known record of professional excellence and human-interaction skills. The triumvirate is unanimous in preferring him as the next Wyoming Sector Energy Ombudsman." (The Overseer looked uneasy when the Henry Spafford incident was mentioned.)

"With a Chinese as Energy Ombudsman, and a Native American as Agriculture Ombudsman," said Lorraine, "even Aretha can't _really_ make a case for white-supremacist finagling!"

"No, she can't; so she'll simply resort to complaining about having _males_ in both of Wyoming's Ombudsman positions. Because of this, we're slipping her a bribe."

"With the help of Trip Conklin," volunteered Sergeant Pasquale.

"What, did Aretha win the contest?" Lorraine already knew that Aretha had bought two complete sets of the Churchbuster novels and fingered her way through all of them; but she and Bill had not heard whether any of those hard copies was a "lucky book."

"Yes, we _arranged_ for her to receive one of the treated copies," the Undersecretary told her; and the Overseer added, "I happened to be the one who recorded her contest code. Also got to read her essay on the Fairness Party; it was nothing if not enthusiastic."

"So her essay was then automatically judged best?" asked Lorraine.

"Correct; and as a pretext to justify sweetening the prize further, the Campaign Against Hate rated Aretha's essay the best in all four sectors. So besides the holophone call to someone outside, she will get to BE outside for a five-day vacation after Winter Solstice; and she can pick which prize she'll use first. Of course, one reason why we can be lavish with her is because, abrasive though she is, none of her grudges is aimed against the Party. But it remains true that we're also stroking her ego this way, to reduce her expected annoyance over herself not being chosen as Ombudsman."

Lorraine thought about the forlorn hope Cecilia Havens had nurtured of being able, by means of the Churchbusters contest, to call Chilena and Melody. Apparently, Cecilia had never had a chance; the game had always been rigged. But at least, as Lorraine had just heard yesterday, the outsider boy now boarding with Alipang had somehow contrived to obtain a voice recording of Chilena and the other Salisburys; this would undoubtedly be some consolation to the Havens matriarch.

"Your husband will prove his worth as an Ombudsman, until no one can complain," declared Sergeant Pasquale--causing Lorraine to write a mental note: The Transport Police don't share the Overseers' phobia against the word "marriage." She thanked Pasquale for his words, then remarked to the Undersecretary, "With my Bill doing this job, you'll find you have an Ombudsman who not only _doesn't_ make up ten phony racism charges per week, but also doesn't waste the Energy Department's time with efforts to seduce people."

The Undersecretary directed a long gaze at Lorraine, before saying, "I believe you, Citizen Shao. I have no doubt that Bill Shao IS so well-satisfied with what he has here, that he has no interest in prospecting elsewhere."
 
More snow had fallen on northern Wyoming; and with no snowplows in use anymore for the old highways, the use of the sleigh belonging to the Rocheforts was appropriate. The driver was a heavily-bundled Alipang Havens; his own horses Sammy and Lacey were in harness, having been trained for this as well as for the saddle; in the front seat beside him was Daffodil Ford; and in back, anxiously watched by his white-American wife Elsa, lay Poc Tsan Cung, the one Vietnamese-born resident of Sussex...

...who had begun coughing blood last night.

Kim not yet being back from Casper, Alipang had left Ransom in charge of the Havens house in Sussex, while he and the horses assumed the role of a slow-motion ambulance.

"I don't understand why they wouldn't send help when I phoned them," Daffodil told his host.

"Medical care is rationed," the dentist-paramedic replied. "Not just in here, either. It was already rationed all over America before the Enclave existed. If you haven't noticed that in Boston, you must not have known what to look for. But surely you've noticed that Mr. Cung is past the age where most citizens begin to be expendable in America."

Daffodil fell silent, looking back at the elderly sufferer, who might have antibiotic-resistant tuberculosis. Elsa Cung eventually felt his eyes on her, and turned to him with a remark of her own: "And consider why we're taking my husband to Doctor Stepanova in a horse-drawn sleigh. The government won't let us own private motor vehicles; it wants all powered transportation compressed into public transit; and then it tells us we can't use their public transit for a sick man who may be contagious." This much said, she turned her attention on Poc Tsan again, showing no interest in anything Daffodil might say further.

Then everyone was silent for awhile, though Mr. Cung did enough coughing to confirm that he still was alive.

As they turned from one road onto another, Daffodil spoke to Alipang again:

"Doctor Havens? I didn't want to mention this before, because I didn't want you to feel as if you were under a microscope; but before I first got to meet you, I did some online research about you and your whole household collective. Your male chromosome-source was part of an unconventional collective called the Smoky Lake Free Clinic, providing health care to proletarians without being subordinated to the government--even though Medicare and Medicaid already existed at the time. I can understand you wanting to practice your traditional religion without federal supervision; but when it came to the secular sphere of medicine, why did Eric Havens and his friends feel a need to duplicate efforts with their un-mutual project? Wasn't it redundant?"

"No, actually, it wasn't redundant, for two reasons. One: it occasionally happened, even before the outright rationing policy got started, that a patient would be refused Medicaid coverage for something; in such a case, my Dad and his colleagues were there to fall back on. Two: it's a matter of presuppositions. Making health care a government monopoly makes sense, in a moral or a pragmatic way, only if you want to believe, a priori, that every life-and-death issue is inherently the property of a central government. My Dad and I don't believe it's the government's property."

"It isn't really only the government's business outside the Enclave," Daffodil argued. "There are unions for it."

Alipang sighed, then took a glance over his shoulder at Mr. and Mrs. Cung before speaking again: "But the labor unions are controlled by the Fairness Party. I've had enough opportunities to talk with officials in here, that I know a little about the current arrangements out there. The union structures, as well as regulations for the work itself, are formed according to someone's political agenda, not according to what works best on the job. Am I correct that there is no such thing as a Nurses' Union?"

Daffodil paused to think, then admitted, "No, there isn't. Just the Physicians' Union, and the Secondary Healthcare Workers' Union."

"Okay, then what I heard was right. They took nurse practicioners, and registered nurses, and designated them as physicians for union purposes, making them part of the Physicians' Union; then put the nursing assistants in the Secondary Healthcare Workers' Union. Which means less, not more, specific representation for the specific interests of the nursing profession. When you centralize things too much, even under a government that boasts about 'diversity,' you get what we used to call a cookie-cutter approach."

"I think I've heard about that expression."

"That's good, young man. And it's good that you've graciously listened to this much non-conformist talk from a non-conformist exile. But please pardon me now for a bit, while I do something even more non-conformist: resume praying for healing for my neighbor Poc Tsan."
 
Falling into disrepair though the highways were, some traces of past amenities survived. When they came upon an old highway rest area, Alipang and Daffodil carried Poc Tsan into the men's room, where Alipang assisted him in using the toilet. These being the relatively-recent composting toilets, there was no worry about their being clogged after long neglect. When all four travellers had relieved themselves--washing their hands with snow afterwards--and the horses had been watered by means of a large thermos jug which Alipang had brought along for their benefit, the trip continued.

Mr. Cung was sufficiently awakened by the exertions of a "rest" stop, that he managed a remark as he was hoisted back into the sleigh: "I remember, as a boy...when we escaped down the Mekong... onto the ocean...we simply did our business...over the side of the boat."

Daffodil didn't want to bother the Cungs as they got underway again, but he quietly asked Alipang, "Was Citizen Cung some kind of refugee from white supremacists?"

"He was a refugee all right, but from people of HIS OWN color. He and his family were escaping from being included in oneness at gunpoint."

Thanks to an early start and a steady pace, Alipang judged they could reach Irina Stepanova's home and clinic before ten at night, without needing to seek a stopping place partway. And so it proved. They had to light a lantern during their last two hours of driving, since the moon was not yet up; but at last they sighted windows illuminated by electric light. The first person to emerge from the front door was not Dr. Stepanova, but a Grange volunteer--thus, also a trained paramedic: none other than Henry Spafford.

"Henry!" exclaimed Alipang. "We need to talk for about a week, but help us with a patient right now. It's Mr. Cung from town: possible tuberculosis. The young man here's named Daffy. Daffy, let Henry help you get the Cungs inside, while I put the horses in the Doctor's stable and rub them down."

When everyone, horses included, was safely out of the weather, Henry hastily told his friend about the vision quest in progress. Random hiking had brought the Apache to the country home of a middle-aged married couple who had been trying to tough it out amid a heating failure; a premonition had led him inside when they did not answer his knock at their door; and with his own body heat he had saved them from dying of hypothermia. After starting a fire for them--using his reserve pieces of paper obtained from Soledad--he had run to the next house, three kilometers off, and gotten help to transport the chilled couple to Doctor Stepanova.

Irina Stepanova herself was tending to several children with flu at the time Poc Tsan Cung was brought in. Alipang joined her and Henry in ministering to the various patients, for hours into the night.

Before being shown a place where he could sleep the night, Daffodil heard from Elsa Cung an account of her husband's adolescent ordeal as a South Vietnamese boat person. It gave the fair-haired boy something to ponder when he lay down on a narrow, odd-smelling cot: the idea, omitted from his Party-approved history courses, that nonwhite persons would have risked their lives to escape from a properly collectivized society, EVEN THOUGH there had not been one single white-supremacist Christian in that society's ruling elite.
 
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