The First Love Of Alipang Havens
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Copperfox
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Chapter 97: The Enclave as a Safe House
Carlos Anselmo, and his voyeuristic "subscribers" in the Party elite, could as easily be entertained by spying on individuals as by observing groups. The Vice-President had seen Victoria Tabor on the first installment of Denise Heathcock's new talk show, had looked her up in the database for internal exiles, and had been intrigued by the direction that her search for a husband had taken. He had accordingly instructed the Agriculture Undersecretary to order that Grange volunteer Porter Hennepin be sent back to South Dakota Sector, so that Victoria could resume her efforts to catch him. (Not that he told the Undersecretary this was his reason.) Anselmo knew _just_ enough about religion to realize why a Biblical Christian could never accept the doctrine of Mormons getting to become gods themselves. Many Mormons had discarded this doctrine, but the Tabor family had not; so it should be amusing to watch Citizen Hennepin trying to keep Victoria at arm's length _without_ being accused of "hate speech."
Still, this scenario was not yet producing fresh entertainment at the time when Anselmo began looking for something to replace the coal-gleaning conflict which had failed to occur; so the Vice-President rummaged through video records of recent happenings in the small government-only preserves within the Enclave. Government personnel had a few modest recreational facilities where they could get away from the "God-fascists;" and, in keeping with Fairness Party priorities, these predominantly catered to women who wanted no part of men, and to men who wanted no part of women. While knowing a little about religion, Anselmo knew _plenty_ about the dynamics of romances and friendships in "progressive" society; thus he knew that where people socialized only with their own sex, a dynamic existed which could never exist among the primitives. In short, two persons of the same sex who had been close to each other, could _also_ become rivals for the attention of a _third_ individual of their gender, making for _many_ ways in which emotions could change rapidly.
He soon found what he wanted, among the women of that sort. Okokeso Vekeseha, the Agriculture Consultant for Wyoming Sector, was an easygoing woman in her social life; while having become close with former Pinkshirt Myra Brooks, she did not at all demand that Myra stick with her _all_ the time. Thus, Myra had been at the government women's club in Frontier Plaza one night, _without_ Ms. Vekeseha, when Bailey Melville and Moonrose Quickpace came in together. Bailey and Moonrose, appearing by now as inseparable as any such pair, had been continuing the campaign to promote Equalityball. But it had taken Myra less than an hour to show interest in both of the other two women, and to make them forget all about the establishment principle of NOT being competitive. This had resulted in a physical brawl between Bailey and Moonrose, all of which was lovingly recorded by the security cameras.
Myra had not even stayed around to find out who won. As was often the case with these wimpy State Department women, there _wasn't_ any clear winner or loser; but Carlos Anselmo took from this incident the sort of pleasure that might be experienced by a fanatical follower of sporting statistics (anyplace where sports _were_ still competitive). As of now, it seemed that practically _everyone_ in the circle of female diplomats to which ex-Ambassador Samantha Ford belonged had gotten in a fight with _everyone_ else.
The guys would love this, in view of how Jessica Trevette and Megavolt Atkinson were always claiming that _only_ men ever tried to solve problems with violence.
But Anselmo remained oblivious to what was going on with Victor Tomisaburo.
_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _
Alipang, Veronique and Victor had managed to give no one any sign of what was happening to the boy's eyesight. The Transport policewomen called in to headquarters about the tunnel incident; but no word came back to detain Alipang or anyone else, nor did the exiles hear anything that would tell them whether those oddly-placed access hatches were part of the authorized system. The two groups of exiles were free to cart their modest haul of coal to the places where division would be decided on; and Alipang was free--not for the first time--to wonder just _how_ much was going on in the Enclave that the residents _weren't_ being told about.
When they got back to Sussex, a man from the small federal building sought out Alipang, to tell him: "Your horse was located by Forest Ranger Iago Carrasco; he'll be bringing it back to you soon."
"Thank you--and thank him for me." Whatever else was going on, at least he hadn't lost Sammy.
Carlos Anselmo, and his voyeuristic "subscribers" in the Party elite, could as easily be entertained by spying on individuals as by observing groups. The Vice-President had seen Victoria Tabor on the first installment of Denise Heathcock's new talk show, had looked her up in the database for internal exiles, and had been intrigued by the direction that her search for a husband had taken. He had accordingly instructed the Agriculture Undersecretary to order that Grange volunteer Porter Hennepin be sent back to South Dakota Sector, so that Victoria could resume her efforts to catch him. (Not that he told the Undersecretary this was his reason.) Anselmo knew _just_ enough about religion to realize why a Biblical Christian could never accept the doctrine of Mormons getting to become gods themselves. Many Mormons had discarded this doctrine, but the Tabor family had not; so it should be amusing to watch Citizen Hennepin trying to keep Victoria at arm's length _without_ being accused of "hate speech."
Still, this scenario was not yet producing fresh entertainment at the time when Anselmo began looking for something to replace the coal-gleaning conflict which had failed to occur; so the Vice-President rummaged through video records of recent happenings in the small government-only preserves within the Enclave. Government personnel had a few modest recreational facilities where they could get away from the "God-fascists;" and, in keeping with Fairness Party priorities, these predominantly catered to women who wanted no part of men, and to men who wanted no part of women. While knowing a little about religion, Anselmo knew _plenty_ about the dynamics of romances and friendships in "progressive" society; thus he knew that where people socialized only with their own sex, a dynamic existed which could never exist among the primitives. In short, two persons of the same sex who had been close to each other, could _also_ become rivals for the attention of a _third_ individual of their gender, making for _many_ ways in which emotions could change rapidly.
He soon found what he wanted, among the women of that sort. Okokeso Vekeseha, the Agriculture Consultant for Wyoming Sector, was an easygoing woman in her social life; while having become close with former Pinkshirt Myra Brooks, she did not at all demand that Myra stick with her _all_ the time. Thus, Myra had been at the government women's club in Frontier Plaza one night, _without_ Ms. Vekeseha, when Bailey Melville and Moonrose Quickpace came in together. Bailey and Moonrose, appearing by now as inseparable as any such pair, had been continuing the campaign to promote Equalityball. But it had taken Myra less than an hour to show interest in both of the other two women, and to make them forget all about the establishment principle of NOT being competitive. This had resulted in a physical brawl between Bailey and Moonrose, all of which was lovingly recorded by the security cameras.
Myra had not even stayed around to find out who won. As was often the case with these wimpy State Department women, there _wasn't_ any clear winner or loser; but Carlos Anselmo took from this incident the sort of pleasure that might be experienced by a fanatical follower of sporting statistics (anyplace where sports _were_ still competitive). As of now, it seemed that practically _everyone_ in the circle of female diplomats to which ex-Ambassador Samantha Ford belonged had gotten in a fight with _everyone_ else.
The guys would love this, in view of how Jessica Trevette and Megavolt Atkinson were always claiming that _only_ men ever tried to solve problems with violence.
But Anselmo remained oblivious to what was going on with Victor Tomisaburo.
_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _
Alipang, Veronique and Victor had managed to give no one any sign of what was happening to the boy's eyesight. The Transport policewomen called in to headquarters about the tunnel incident; but no word came back to detain Alipang or anyone else, nor did the exiles hear anything that would tell them whether those oddly-placed access hatches were part of the authorized system. The two groups of exiles were free to cart their modest haul of coal to the places where division would be decided on; and Alipang was free--not for the first time--to wonder just _how_ much was going on in the Enclave that the residents _weren't_ being told about.
When they got back to Sussex, a man from the small federal building sought out Alipang, to tell him: "Your horse was located by Forest Ranger Iago Carrasco; he'll be bringing it back to you soon."
"Thank you--and thank him for me." Whatever else was going on, at least he hadn't lost Sammy.
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Copperfox
Well-known member
The building-repair job on which Peter Tomisaburo and Raoul Rochefort were working was at a former convenience store on the highway leading out of Sussex to the north. The place was to be renovated as a communications station for the law-enforcement agencies within the Enclave, in anticipation of their duties expanding into the new fifth sector. No utilities were yet working in the building; nor were porta-potties provided. So if nature called, Peter and Raoul had no alternative but to go out in the weeds.
This suited Peter anyway, since he had not heard from his superiors in China for many days, and was growing uneasy about what might be happening--for he had heard some tantalizing hints from government personnel about something going amiss in the Lunar Orchard colony. By being away from others, he made it easier for his superiors to contact him, if only they would.
Now, as he was out there pretending to "go" when he really had no need, the encrypted call finally came to the passive decrypting receiver set implanted in his skull:
"Enclave Deep Cover Agent! We have you on satellite camera. Have you received your nanobot implantation? If you have received it, you should now be able to see electromagnetic wavelengths lower than visible light, all the way down to radio waves as low in frequency as twenty megahertz. The idea was that by enabling you to _see_ signals, we could send you transmissions in a manner similar to old Morse code, thus ending the hazard of radio-signal activity inside your head causing cancer. If you have acquired this new visual ability, acknowledge by raising your right arm. If not, raise your left arm."
Puzzled, Peter lifted his left arm high. There was a slight pause before the radio operator spoke again.
"Did you come in physical contact with the actor Daniel Salisbury? An agent placed the nanobots in Salisbury's body without his knowledge, as we knew that the Havens family would be introducing him to their friends in the Enclave. Right arm if you have had physical contact with Salisbury, left arm if not."
Peter now answered yes with his right arm. This was followed by a longer pause.
"The agent who sent the nanobots is reliable. They should have passed into you upon sensing your chromosomes. The only explanation we can think of is that the nanobots could have mistaken the chromosomes of someone related to you for your own chromosomes. Did your son by any chance shake hands with Salisbury _before_ you did? If it is even _possible_ that this happened, raise your right arm. Left arm only if you are _certain_ that it could not have happened."
Peter lifted his right arm once more.
"You must find out whether your son is experiencing the sensory alterations that would result from the nanobots being in his body. If it is he who has them, then probably your cover is not jeopardized. But if there is some _other_ reason why the nanobots went astray, then you are compromised by no fault of yours. If that proves to be the case, we will extract you and your family by telling the Diversity States government that you were found to be related to an important official in Beijing, so that they will permit us to remove you from the Enclave."
Suddenly Peter eagerly _wanted_ the nanobots to be someplace else. Then he and his wife and children could _leave_ this reservation! Brain-scan would prove that the misplacing of the nanobots _wasn't_ his fault; so he would be received as an agent who had performed his mission faithfully. Oh, to be OUT OF HERE!!
The speaker went on: "We have been out of communication with you because of a crisis with Triad infiltration of our military and paramilitary leadership structure. For many days, we could not be sure that some traitor would not intercept any message sent to you. The homeland emergency has now been dealt with; but because of this new uncertainty at _your_ end, we postpone telling you something else we wish you to know. Right now, do what you can to find out what became of your nanobots. End of transmission."
Some forty minutes later, Alipang Havens came running up to the job site saying something about Victor having been in a small accident. As soon as Peter knew that his son had not been seriously hurt, all he could think about was the question of whether he would learn that the boy was indeed the host of the missing nanobots.
This suited Peter anyway, since he had not heard from his superiors in China for many days, and was growing uneasy about what might be happening--for he had heard some tantalizing hints from government personnel about something going amiss in the Lunar Orchard colony. By being away from others, he made it easier for his superiors to contact him, if only they would.
Now, as he was out there pretending to "go" when he really had no need, the encrypted call finally came to the passive decrypting receiver set implanted in his skull:
"Enclave Deep Cover Agent! We have you on satellite camera. Have you received your nanobot implantation? If you have received it, you should now be able to see electromagnetic wavelengths lower than visible light, all the way down to radio waves as low in frequency as twenty megahertz. The idea was that by enabling you to _see_ signals, we could send you transmissions in a manner similar to old Morse code, thus ending the hazard of radio-signal activity inside your head causing cancer. If you have acquired this new visual ability, acknowledge by raising your right arm. If not, raise your left arm."
Puzzled, Peter lifted his left arm high. There was a slight pause before the radio operator spoke again.
"Did you come in physical contact with the actor Daniel Salisbury? An agent placed the nanobots in Salisbury's body without his knowledge, as we knew that the Havens family would be introducing him to their friends in the Enclave. Right arm if you have had physical contact with Salisbury, left arm if not."
Peter now answered yes with his right arm. This was followed by a longer pause.
"The agent who sent the nanobots is reliable. They should have passed into you upon sensing your chromosomes. The only explanation we can think of is that the nanobots could have mistaken the chromosomes of someone related to you for your own chromosomes. Did your son by any chance shake hands with Salisbury _before_ you did? If it is even _possible_ that this happened, raise your right arm. Left arm only if you are _certain_ that it could not have happened."
Peter lifted his right arm once more.
"You must find out whether your son is experiencing the sensory alterations that would result from the nanobots being in his body. If it is he who has them, then probably your cover is not jeopardized. But if there is some _other_ reason why the nanobots went astray, then you are compromised by no fault of yours. If that proves to be the case, we will extract you and your family by telling the Diversity States government that you were found to be related to an important official in Beijing, so that they will permit us to remove you from the Enclave."
Suddenly Peter eagerly _wanted_ the nanobots to be someplace else. Then he and his wife and children could _leave_ this reservation! Brain-scan would prove that the misplacing of the nanobots _wasn't_ his fault; so he would be received as an agent who had performed his mission faithfully. Oh, to be OUT OF HERE!!
The speaker went on: "We have been out of communication with you because of a crisis with Triad infiltration of our military and paramilitary leadership structure. For many days, we could not be sure that some traitor would not intercept any message sent to you. The homeland emergency has now been dealt with; but because of this new uncertainty at _your_ end, we postpone telling you something else we wish you to know. Right now, do what you can to find out what became of your nanobots. End of transmission."
Some forty minutes later, Alipang Havens came running up to the job site saying something about Victor having been in a small accident. As soon as Peter knew that his son had not been seriously hurt, all he could think about was the question of whether he would learn that the boy was indeed the host of the missing nanobots.
Copperfox
Well-known member
A single modest-sized horse cart had been enough to carry off Sussex's share of the freshly gleaned coal, and this was with the Sussex gleaning contingent having found more than the group led by Britt Gavilan. After giving about a third of the difference to the others, Annette Rochefort and her companions were bringing back to town perhaps enough coal to give exactly one piece to each residence in Sussex, plus one or two more to each of those households which had contributed actual _work_ to the gleaning. This estimate was not counting the quantity given to Sumerico Bivar the day before, which he had already given away at his own discretion to Sussex inhabitants worse off than himself. So the whole business ended up doing only a little good to the local exiles. Single pieces of coal would simply be added at one point or another to whatever fires people had otherwise. Jokes about Bob Cratchit's barely-fuelled coal brazier in A Christmas Carol began to be told.
The children who had fallen into the tunnel were more of a subject for talk than the coal windfall was. Veronique's mother already knew that Veronique was unhurt; accordingly, as soon as the girl had changed into dry clothing, Annette granted her request to be allowed to go to the Tomisaburo house with Victor, Esperanza Havens being expected to go there also. Victor loitered, speaking to Gustave and Philippe Rochefort, long enough so that he and the two girls would arrive together. Veronique, as one who knew about the older boy's visual-spectrum enlargement, intended to witness what she could of Victor's homecoming, and later would add her take on events to what Esperanza could tell Alipang about it. Alipang, only too well aware that he was an attention magnet, purposely _wasn't_ going to the Tomisaburo house. Some notoreity would attach to him as it was, what with one of the policewomen having expressed surprise that he could have torn that chute-bottom door out of place so easily; but plenty of people were already aware of Alipang's exceptional strength.
The preschooler Adrienne had sensed her mother's anxiety upon the first news coming that Victor had been in some difficulty; because of this, she was clinging to Lucinda for reassurance the whole time Lucinda was hearing the edited story from Victor.
The Transport policewomen had also gotten word of the tunnel incident to the building-repair worksite. Peter Tomisaburo got away from the job as quickly as he could, returning to his house not very long after Victor, Esperanza and Veronique had come.
"What a nasty thing, to take a fall in darkness." Peter was fine-tuning both his tone of voice and facial expression; he had long since taught Victor to look for this kind of thing as a hint that ordinary-sounding words might bear a hidden meaning. "When it's pitch black around you, that's a sort of sensory deprivation. A man could start hallucinating then; could even imagine that he was seeing lights, in colors not _quite_ like anything he was used to seeing."
Victor did not fail to understand that his father was drawing him out cautiously. He replied, "That's right, Dad, it could happen like that. I know if anything like that happened to me, I'd be worried that no one would believe me when I described it. Though I might not _want_ to draw attention to it, while people were still buzzing about other things, like the way Dr. Havens happened on that little subway car in the tunnel. You know how Dr. Havens always gets noticed..."
Peter Tomisaburo was convinced by now that Victor was hinting to him about an experience matching what could be expected with an implantation of those sense-augmenting nanobots. Internally, it was a depressing letdown for the Chinese spy to realize that now Beijing _wouldn't_ have cause to extract him and his dependents. But on the good side of the ledger, not only was Victor unhurt-- he was also showing superb mental discipline by not blurting out in undisguised language what must have been a bewildering experience. "Come outside, let me look at you in sunlight," he suddenly told his boy.
Out in the open, clear of anything that might interfere with the _desired_ tracking by overhead satellites, Peter made a pretense of looking for signs of injury, then hugged Victor. It was nearly unheard of for him to show more than a stingy minimum of affection to his children; but the hug would seem normal on _this_ occasion. And it was the setup for Peter to do something which needed to appear natural. Tilting his head back--so that satellite cameras would get a perfect view of his face for lip-reading purposes--he said, "I'm so glad you're all right; after all, those are MY chromosomes you're carrying! I'm sorry if I haven't told you this enough, but I'm proud of you; I couldn't have asked for an heir more like myself in heredity. That's right, you're completely worthy to receive whatever is mine, large things or small things."
Then Peter had to fill in some time; so, still standing in the same place, he asked Victor to tell more about the tunnel. In reality, from secret briefings dating back to when he was first selected for this assignment, Peter already knew what the tunnel was: just part of a network of tunnels associated with public utilities, which had been completed before the Enclave was officially marked off. This particular tunnel, he already knew, did in fact provide access to the outside world (until Yellowstone Sector would be enclosed), but of course the authorities would have it guarded where it crossed the perimeter. Lucky that Alipang _hadn't_ tried going north! Still, one thing Peter didn't know was whether the hatchways involved in this incident had existed as long as the rest of that network. It _was_ particularly odd for that one chute to open _inside_ that cramped culvert; but maybe someone had intended eventually to break up that old motor-traffic road, thus placing that hatchway in the open.
After what seemed like ages--with Peter no longer hugging his boy, but pacing back and forth at a little distance from him, so that sound in Peter's head would not be audible to Victor--the hoped-for call from China came to the skull-inset antenna array:
"Enclave Deep Cover Agent! We have observed your effort to signal us without anyone else realizing your intent. If we are correct that you believe the nanobots to be inside Victor, hug him again and swing him off his feet."
Peter hugged his son again and swung him off his feet for a moment, repeating how glad he was that the boy was safe.
"Good! If you are right, then you are not compromised. Make sure he stays where he is for the next thirty seconds...."
When headquarters transmitted again, it was to say: "We have beamed an encrypted command into Victor's whole body, still amounting to much less cancer hazard than these contacts have caused for you by now. The nanobots, if they are present in Victor, cannot reply to us, but they will have received an order to go back into genetic-search mode. Give them five minutes to make ready, and ensure that no other member of your family touches him skin-to-skin meanwhile. After five minutes, _your_ thus touching your son, such as by a long handshake, should cause the nanobots to migrate into you. Then you will begin to see radio emissions as if they were visible light, and we will be able to to perform antique-style blinker signalling to you without any data being _modulated_ on the beams. Once we are sure the nanobots are working for you, we will send one last transmission to your implanted antenna array, causing it to disintegrate and pass out of your body. Don't worry, its molecules are intended to be able to process out via your kidneys..."
Less than half an hour later, Peter Tomisaburo was startled in spite of himself to see faint beams of odd-colored light--faint because this was still daytime--lancing back and forth in the sky. He was _seeing_ all the radio traffic that happened to be passing above Wyoming; how disconcerting this must have been for Victor! Peter wished he could explain fully to his son, but he would have to settle for making supposed speculations about the federal government running unknown experiments.
The espionage service already had plans for how radio beams intended for him to see would appear to him as different in color from all the other, irrelevant transmissions. And Peter was glad that they valued him enough to want to avoid causing him to develop a brain tumor.
But he _still_ wished that, always provided that it didn't mean his being disgraced and punished, he could have gotten himself, Lucinda, Adrienne and Victor OUT OF HERE.
The children who had fallen into the tunnel were more of a subject for talk than the coal windfall was. Veronique's mother already knew that Veronique was unhurt; accordingly, as soon as the girl had changed into dry clothing, Annette granted her request to be allowed to go to the Tomisaburo house with Victor, Esperanza Havens being expected to go there also. Victor loitered, speaking to Gustave and Philippe Rochefort, long enough so that he and the two girls would arrive together. Veronique, as one who knew about the older boy's visual-spectrum enlargement, intended to witness what she could of Victor's homecoming, and later would add her take on events to what Esperanza could tell Alipang about it. Alipang, only too well aware that he was an attention magnet, purposely _wasn't_ going to the Tomisaburo house. Some notoreity would attach to him as it was, what with one of the policewomen having expressed surprise that he could have torn that chute-bottom door out of place so easily; but plenty of people were already aware of Alipang's exceptional strength.
The preschooler Adrienne had sensed her mother's anxiety upon the first news coming that Victor had been in some difficulty; because of this, she was clinging to Lucinda for reassurance the whole time Lucinda was hearing the edited story from Victor.
The Transport policewomen had also gotten word of the tunnel incident to the building-repair worksite. Peter Tomisaburo got away from the job as quickly as he could, returning to his house not very long after Victor, Esperanza and Veronique had come.
"What a nasty thing, to take a fall in darkness." Peter was fine-tuning both his tone of voice and facial expression; he had long since taught Victor to look for this kind of thing as a hint that ordinary-sounding words might bear a hidden meaning. "When it's pitch black around you, that's a sort of sensory deprivation. A man could start hallucinating then; could even imagine that he was seeing lights, in colors not _quite_ like anything he was used to seeing."
Victor did not fail to understand that his father was drawing him out cautiously. He replied, "That's right, Dad, it could happen like that. I know if anything like that happened to me, I'd be worried that no one would believe me when I described it. Though I might not _want_ to draw attention to it, while people were still buzzing about other things, like the way Dr. Havens happened on that little subway car in the tunnel. You know how Dr. Havens always gets noticed..."
Peter Tomisaburo was convinced by now that Victor was hinting to him about an experience matching what could be expected with an implantation of those sense-augmenting nanobots. Internally, it was a depressing letdown for the Chinese spy to realize that now Beijing _wouldn't_ have cause to extract him and his dependents. But on the good side of the ledger, not only was Victor unhurt-- he was also showing superb mental discipline by not blurting out in undisguised language what must have been a bewildering experience. "Come outside, let me look at you in sunlight," he suddenly told his boy.
Out in the open, clear of anything that might interfere with the _desired_ tracking by overhead satellites, Peter made a pretense of looking for signs of injury, then hugged Victor. It was nearly unheard of for him to show more than a stingy minimum of affection to his children; but the hug would seem normal on _this_ occasion. And it was the setup for Peter to do something which needed to appear natural. Tilting his head back--so that satellite cameras would get a perfect view of his face for lip-reading purposes--he said, "I'm so glad you're all right; after all, those are MY chromosomes you're carrying! I'm sorry if I haven't told you this enough, but I'm proud of you; I couldn't have asked for an heir more like myself in heredity. That's right, you're completely worthy to receive whatever is mine, large things or small things."
Then Peter had to fill in some time; so, still standing in the same place, he asked Victor to tell more about the tunnel. In reality, from secret briefings dating back to when he was first selected for this assignment, Peter already knew what the tunnel was: just part of a network of tunnels associated with public utilities, which had been completed before the Enclave was officially marked off. This particular tunnel, he already knew, did in fact provide access to the outside world (until Yellowstone Sector would be enclosed), but of course the authorities would have it guarded where it crossed the perimeter. Lucky that Alipang _hadn't_ tried going north! Still, one thing Peter didn't know was whether the hatchways involved in this incident had existed as long as the rest of that network. It _was_ particularly odd for that one chute to open _inside_ that cramped culvert; but maybe someone had intended eventually to break up that old motor-traffic road, thus placing that hatchway in the open.
After what seemed like ages--with Peter no longer hugging his boy, but pacing back and forth at a little distance from him, so that sound in Peter's head would not be audible to Victor--the hoped-for call from China came to the skull-inset antenna array:
"Enclave Deep Cover Agent! We have observed your effort to signal us without anyone else realizing your intent. If we are correct that you believe the nanobots to be inside Victor, hug him again and swing him off his feet."
Peter hugged his son again and swung him off his feet for a moment, repeating how glad he was that the boy was safe.
"Good! If you are right, then you are not compromised. Make sure he stays where he is for the next thirty seconds...."
When headquarters transmitted again, it was to say: "We have beamed an encrypted command into Victor's whole body, still amounting to much less cancer hazard than these contacts have caused for you by now. The nanobots, if they are present in Victor, cannot reply to us, but they will have received an order to go back into genetic-search mode. Give them five minutes to make ready, and ensure that no other member of your family touches him skin-to-skin meanwhile. After five minutes, _your_ thus touching your son, such as by a long handshake, should cause the nanobots to migrate into you. Then you will begin to see radio emissions as if they were visible light, and we will be able to to perform antique-style blinker signalling to you without any data being _modulated_ on the beams. Once we are sure the nanobots are working for you, we will send one last transmission to your implanted antenna array, causing it to disintegrate and pass out of your body. Don't worry, its molecules are intended to be able to process out via your kidneys..."
Less than half an hour later, Peter Tomisaburo was startled in spite of himself to see faint beams of odd-colored light--faint because this was still daytime--lancing back and forth in the sky. He was _seeing_ all the radio traffic that happened to be passing above Wyoming; how disconcerting this must have been for Victor! Peter wished he could explain fully to his son, but he would have to settle for making supposed speculations about the federal government running unknown experiments.
The espionage service already had plans for how radio beams intended for him to see would appear to him as different in color from all the other, irrelevant transmissions. And Peter was glad that they valued him enough to want to avoid causing him to develop a brain tumor.
But he _still_ wished that, always provided that it didn't mean his being disgraced and punished, he could have gotten himself, Lucinda, Adrienne and Victor OUT OF HERE.
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Copperfox
Well-known member
After Ondine Rochefort was returned to her mother, Alipang gathered Kim, Esperanza and Brendan around him for a solemn family prayer time. Wilson Havens was absent, because--just as he and Ransom had discussed last year--he had now entered the world of on-and-off work as an auxiliary farmhand. He had thus gone straight from the coal-gleaning to a farm where there was a job for him.
Alipang was gut-certain that high-tech surveillance was watching him right now, to find out if he would mention to his wife anything about Victor Tomisaburo's sensory confusion. He would not let out even a hint of that; even if he might end up dragged away by secret police in the night without explanation, as far as he could control matters he would NOT endanger his loved ones by causing them also to "know too much." Fortunately, the not-so-secret concern about whether anyone would be annoyed with him for exploring that utility tunnel, was enough to allow him to utter a prayer which, between himself and God, was applicable to the mystery about the Tomisaburo boy.
Kim knew her husband well enough to realize that he was apprehensive for the safety of others besides himself; no one else she knew, unless outright insane, had LESS fear of death for themselves than Alipang had. She could also sense that he did not want to be questioned about what was agitating him; and her supreme confidence that his reticence COULD NOT be hiding any wrongdoing on his part, helped her to keep her peace and agree with his prayer--
"Heavenly Father, we remember that You keep watch over whole planets, and over humble sparrows. We thank You in the short term for the fact that no one came to harm from that business with the service tunnel. We ask You to continue graciously managing events--everything that affects anyone. Be with our own extended family, and with the Tomisaburos, and the Rocheforts, and Sumerico, and Sylvia, and Jillian, and Ransom, and Pastor Ionesco, and ALL our friends, nearby or far away. Deal graciously with all secular people here in the Enclave; let ever-increasing truth and love surround them, for the good of all.
"Your Word says that You make allowances for us because we are only dust. Please go on having mercy on our frailties, and lifting us ABOVE our frailties. Give us everything implied by the expression 'our daily bread,' in such ways as You choose to work. Protect us from doing wrong, and may it please You to vindicate us when we do right. Grant us Your perfect love which drives out fear. Make our lives count for something good, be they long lives or short. If any of us should be taken home to Your Kingdom early, be with those who stay behind, to comfort and uphold them. Let us be useful instruments for Your purposes, and may we NEVER be a cause of Your gospel appearing to be discredited. We ask all this in the name of Jesus Christ, and for His honor and glory. Amen."
Without advertising that this was what she was doing, Kim helped her husband to keep his private worries private from the children, by picking up the prayer football from here and addressing particulars, such as praying for Henry and Huldah to prosper with their new flock of sheep. This tactic served its purpose with Esperanza and Brendan, but Kim herself was not thereby relieved from anxiety. Once the prayer time was concluded and the children found other things to do, Kim sought emotional refuge in her husband's powerful arms. Alipang himself took what comfort he could, in the circumstances, from her unwavering love for him--and from the fact that SO FAR no armed men were barging into their house to arrest him for anything.
Alipang was gut-certain that high-tech surveillance was watching him right now, to find out if he would mention to his wife anything about Victor Tomisaburo's sensory confusion. He would not let out even a hint of that; even if he might end up dragged away by secret police in the night without explanation, as far as he could control matters he would NOT endanger his loved ones by causing them also to "know too much." Fortunately, the not-so-secret concern about whether anyone would be annoyed with him for exploring that utility tunnel, was enough to allow him to utter a prayer which, between himself and God, was applicable to the mystery about the Tomisaburo boy.
Kim knew her husband well enough to realize that he was apprehensive for the safety of others besides himself; no one else she knew, unless outright insane, had LESS fear of death for themselves than Alipang had. She could also sense that he did not want to be questioned about what was agitating him; and her supreme confidence that his reticence COULD NOT be hiding any wrongdoing on his part, helped her to keep her peace and agree with his prayer--
"Heavenly Father, we remember that You keep watch over whole planets, and over humble sparrows. We thank You in the short term for the fact that no one came to harm from that business with the service tunnel. We ask You to continue graciously managing events--everything that affects anyone. Be with our own extended family, and with the Tomisaburos, and the Rocheforts, and Sumerico, and Sylvia, and Jillian, and Ransom, and Pastor Ionesco, and ALL our friends, nearby or far away. Deal graciously with all secular people here in the Enclave; let ever-increasing truth and love surround them, for the good of all.
"Your Word says that You make allowances for us because we are only dust. Please go on having mercy on our frailties, and lifting us ABOVE our frailties. Give us everything implied by the expression 'our daily bread,' in such ways as You choose to work. Protect us from doing wrong, and may it please You to vindicate us when we do right. Grant us Your perfect love which drives out fear. Make our lives count for something good, be they long lives or short. If any of us should be taken home to Your Kingdom early, be with those who stay behind, to comfort and uphold them. Let us be useful instruments for Your purposes, and may we NEVER be a cause of Your gospel appearing to be discredited. We ask all this in the name of Jesus Christ, and for His honor and glory. Amen."
Without advertising that this was what she was doing, Kim helped her husband to keep his private worries private from the children, by picking up the prayer football from here and addressing particulars, such as praying for Henry and Huldah to prosper with their new flock of sheep. This tactic served its purpose with Esperanza and Brendan, but Kim herself was not thereby relieved from anxiety. Once the prayer time was concluded and the children found other things to do, Kim sought emotional refuge in her husband's powerful arms. Alipang himself took what comfort he could, in the circumstances, from her unwavering love for him--and from the fact that SO FAR no armed men were barging into their house to arrest him for anything.
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Copperfox
Well-known member
That evening, Dan and Chilena came up from Casper by train, leaving their children with Eric and Cecilia, who were far from getting tired of the extra grandchild-companionship. Dan and Chilena were to stay in Sussex with Alipang's household long enough to do three things: attend a worship service at Sussex Gospel Church, meet Henry and Huldah Spafford, and entertain area residents with at least one live performance of dialogue scenes from _actual_ Shakespeare plays. Alipang would join them for a scene or two. Several women in Sussex had already volunteered to piece together something resembling Elizabethan-area costumes for the three to wear, from whatever materials the ladies had on hand.
Meanwhile, the Chinese radio transmission which was to deactivate Peter Tomisaburo's intracephalic receiver included instructions for him to go outdoors at a certain time of night, watch specified quarters of the sky in a given order, and see if he could make out the "blinking" radio beams from satellites which ought now to be visible to him. He was then to stand facing whichever direction had had the frequency _most_ distinctly visible to his enhanced eyes, and his true message would be displayed for him from that direction.
As a measure against signal interception, the satellite sending out the narrow beams would send them in different directions, as if there were three or four separate and unrelated messages going to different recipients. In fact, there would be more than one _satellite_ doing the transmitting; Greater China had plenty of satellites in orbit. So even if an adversary suspected that the on-and-off transmissions were anything of a telegraphic nature, and even if he knew the enciphered Morse that would be used, it would not be obvious that all these transmissions even _were_ one integral communication.
The time came, and Peter stepped outdoors. Though there was no curfew imposed on the exiles, Peter still provided himself with an _excuse_ to be outdoors: he carried two large throw rugs from the house, to beat the dust out of them with a cane. This done, and the rugs hanging over the fence, he viewed his selection of blinker frequencies; and once the satellite-monitor personnel saw that he had chosen his facing, they commenced the message. Besides being enciphered, it contained what amounted to many shorthand code words; but its meaning was as follows:
"The same situation which delayed our calling you before is now demanding action to safeguard a Chinese officer from Triad reprisals. In rooting out the traitors who might have intercepted our messages to you, one man who became prominent was the same one who came to your location last year as a researcher: Yang Sung-Kuo. For his own merits, and because the sudden flag-rank vacancies led to senior officers of the Ministry of Internal Affairs moving up and leaving their own billets vacant, Major Yang has been promoted to Lieutenant-Colonel. But he has also been marked for assassination by the Triads.
"It has been decided to protect Yang, with his wife and children, in a way that also helps us in another area, namely the area of receiving intelligence from you. Since Yang already knows you are an agent, and since he himself is already known to the Jessica Trevette administration, we have told the American President to allow Yang to come live inside the Enclave with his family for a time. He will ostensibly be following up on his previous research work. Since his report on conditions in America was in fact published by regular academic channels, with his true identity admitted there, even those who know his paramilitary affiliation will realize that he could _actually_ be doing the new research he says he is doing.
"The Yang family will be arriving in America within the next three days. It is possible that some American expatriates will be coming at the same time, because Beijing has found cause to require President Trevette to make some concessions to these emigrants. Do not act excessively eager to see Lieutenant-Colonel Yang at first; but when an unforced opportunity comes to speak with him, engage in any conversation that helps make it natural for him and you to see more of each other. The first time you have information that you want to send back through him, give him recognition code nine-four-nine-two, purple, red, purple.
"If you understand all these instructions, put one rug over your shoulder and hold the other under one arm as you carry them back into your house."
Peter provided the acknowledgement, and went back indoors with a faint smile on his face. If he couldn't _leave_ the Enclave, it would be some consolation to have a family _from_ China living where he could speak with them sometimes. For sure, having a consistent means of sending out reports would make him feel more as if his work here was meaningful. And, having formed a good opinion of Lieutenant-Colonel Yang in their brief previous contact, Peter was glad that Beijing was taking consideration for the safety of the Yangs.
Meanwhile, the Chinese radio transmission which was to deactivate Peter Tomisaburo's intracephalic receiver included instructions for him to go outdoors at a certain time of night, watch specified quarters of the sky in a given order, and see if he could make out the "blinking" radio beams from satellites which ought now to be visible to him. He was then to stand facing whichever direction had had the frequency _most_ distinctly visible to his enhanced eyes, and his true message would be displayed for him from that direction.
As a measure against signal interception, the satellite sending out the narrow beams would send them in different directions, as if there were three or four separate and unrelated messages going to different recipients. In fact, there would be more than one _satellite_ doing the transmitting; Greater China had plenty of satellites in orbit. So even if an adversary suspected that the on-and-off transmissions were anything of a telegraphic nature, and even if he knew the enciphered Morse that would be used, it would not be obvious that all these transmissions even _were_ one integral communication.
The time came, and Peter stepped outdoors. Though there was no curfew imposed on the exiles, Peter still provided himself with an _excuse_ to be outdoors: he carried two large throw rugs from the house, to beat the dust out of them with a cane. This done, and the rugs hanging over the fence, he viewed his selection of blinker frequencies; and once the satellite-monitor personnel saw that he had chosen his facing, they commenced the message. Besides being enciphered, it contained what amounted to many shorthand code words; but its meaning was as follows:
"The same situation which delayed our calling you before is now demanding action to safeguard a Chinese officer from Triad reprisals. In rooting out the traitors who might have intercepted our messages to you, one man who became prominent was the same one who came to your location last year as a researcher: Yang Sung-Kuo. For his own merits, and because the sudden flag-rank vacancies led to senior officers of the Ministry of Internal Affairs moving up and leaving their own billets vacant, Major Yang has been promoted to Lieutenant-Colonel. But he has also been marked for assassination by the Triads.
"It has been decided to protect Yang, with his wife and children, in a way that also helps us in another area, namely the area of receiving intelligence from you. Since Yang already knows you are an agent, and since he himself is already known to the Jessica Trevette administration, we have told the American President to allow Yang to come live inside the Enclave with his family for a time. He will ostensibly be following up on his previous research work. Since his report on conditions in America was in fact published by regular academic channels, with his true identity admitted there, even those who know his paramilitary affiliation will realize that he could _actually_ be doing the new research he says he is doing.
"The Yang family will be arriving in America within the next three days. It is possible that some American expatriates will be coming at the same time, because Beijing has found cause to require President Trevette to make some concessions to these emigrants. Do not act excessively eager to see Lieutenant-Colonel Yang at first; but when an unforced opportunity comes to speak with him, engage in any conversation that helps make it natural for him and you to see more of each other. The first time you have information that you want to send back through him, give him recognition code nine-four-nine-two, purple, red, purple.
"If you understand all these instructions, put one rug over your shoulder and hold the other under one arm as you carry them back into your house."
Peter provided the acknowledgement, and went back indoors with a faint smile on his face. If he couldn't _leave_ the Enclave, it would be some consolation to have a family _from_ China living where he could speak with them sometimes. For sure, having a consistent means of sending out reports would make him feel more as if his work here was meaningful. And, having formed a good opinion of Lieutenant-Colonel Yang in their brief previous contact, Peter was glad that Beijing was taking consideration for the safety of the Yangs.
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Copperfox
Well-known member
Twenty-seven hours later, at the Pacific Federation capital in the Micronesian Islands, two parties of travellers came together in a fenced-off section of the city's airfield--which had holographic blur-projectors to prevent spy satellites passing overhead from seeing who or what was there. Meeting them, and making introductions between them, was Prentice Kerang, husband of Bert Randall's sister Emma. This man had been selected to assist in the proceedings precisely because he _wasn't_ a governmental figure whom anyone would think to spy on when he flew up to Micronesia from Australia, yet his integrity came endorsed by his well-connected brother-in-law.
"Lieutenant-Colonel Yang, your special flight is ready. Here, apart from its crew, are the persons who came with it from Africa. Professor Matti Siermaala, formerly of Finland, is an inventor of medical technology who will be showing his wares in America. Josiah Redfern and Brendan Hyland are both former United States military personnel; Josiah is an assistant to the Professor, while Brendan is looking out for their security. Professor, Brendan, Josiah: Yang Sung-Kuo is currently on detached assignment, following up on a past research project. With him are his wife Tupsim, and their daughters Bonnie, Jennie and Lainie."
As Lieutenant-Colonel Yang began shaking hands, Tupsim said in heavily-accented English, "They still have their Chinese names too: Ting-Ba, Ting-Ju and Ting-Lao. The others are--outside names."
Brendan, alias Captain Lacrosse, smiled. "Yes, I know about using alternate names when I'm away from home." Then, with handshakes done, the former Marine spoke to Lieutenant-Colonel Yang about safety measures for the trip across the Pacific, on which their course would avoid both Chinese and Aztlano airspace.
"Your plane has a good suite of countermeasures against missiles, and mounts blur-projectors to make it harder for anyone to aim a rail-gun at you." The electromagnetic projectile weapons were changing the nature of aerial warfare; while needing much less energy than Class Five lasers for a given range, their metal slugs flew so fast that nothing _could_ dodge them, any more than dodge a laser beam, if they had a clear shot. Indeed, one reason for the advances in soundwave weapons was the search for a way to take out a rail-gun emplacement with something other than a missile that the gun could simply shoot down inbound. "You'll have Pacific Federation submarines tracking you for most of the way, with anti-missile weaponry ready against anything that threatens you. They'll have the special acquisition code to be able to keep you in their global positioning; your flight is equipped to deceive regular g.p.s. with a false location and identity. The subs also have special spectrum filters to let them see you through your blur-projections, the better to avoid hitting you by mistake if they have to knock out hostiles close to you. One of your own Monkey Cloud armed robot planes will start flying top cover for you when you pass beyond the submarines' protection; it has permission to stay with you through Alchatkan airspace. Canadian forces will escort you for the last part of the trip, including in Diversity States airspace, which has also been cleared."
Yang nodded. "Sounds thorough."
"It is. After all, ordinary folks who are merely conducting sociological research deserve high-grade security. Just like us other ordinary folks who are merely sharing healthcare knowledge."
Bonnie, eldest of the Yangs' daughters, was determined to be part of the adults' conversation. "We're so ordinary, we could go outside this secret part and no one would know us from palm trees!"
"Only, palm trees can't dance the way you and your sisters can," said her mother.
"You should meet my niece, Meretseger," Prentice told the Chinese girl. "Not really my niece, but I'm an adopted uncle. She's a few years older than you; lives down in Australia now. She dances too, like a professional."
"I've seen her; she did pretty well," remarked Bonnie's father. "But she needs disciplined instruction before she'll be able to stand comparison with our girls." Without letting this turn into an argument, Yang now addressed Professor Siermaala: "I've heard a little about your work: reverting to analog components to thwart malicious codes. Do you expect to _sell_ equipment in America?"
"Not likely. But if we can help some Americans who can't get any help from their Health Rationing Agency, it will be proving the worth of my devices, and raising the chances of selling them elsewhere. Besides, Brendan and Josiah both welcome the chance to visit their native country _without_ risk of being arrested."
"Especially me," put in Josiah. "It's possible I might be able to get in touch with relatives."
"Lieutenant-Colonel Yang, your special flight is ready. Here, apart from its crew, are the persons who came with it from Africa. Professor Matti Siermaala, formerly of Finland, is an inventor of medical technology who will be showing his wares in America. Josiah Redfern and Brendan Hyland are both former United States military personnel; Josiah is an assistant to the Professor, while Brendan is looking out for their security. Professor, Brendan, Josiah: Yang Sung-Kuo is currently on detached assignment, following up on a past research project. With him are his wife Tupsim, and their daughters Bonnie, Jennie and Lainie."
As Lieutenant-Colonel Yang began shaking hands, Tupsim said in heavily-accented English, "They still have their Chinese names too: Ting-Ba, Ting-Ju and Ting-Lao. The others are--outside names."
Brendan, alias Captain Lacrosse, smiled. "Yes, I know about using alternate names when I'm away from home." Then, with handshakes done, the former Marine spoke to Lieutenant-Colonel Yang about safety measures for the trip across the Pacific, on which their course would avoid both Chinese and Aztlano airspace.
"Your plane has a good suite of countermeasures against missiles, and mounts blur-projectors to make it harder for anyone to aim a rail-gun at you." The electromagnetic projectile weapons were changing the nature of aerial warfare; while needing much less energy than Class Five lasers for a given range, their metal slugs flew so fast that nothing _could_ dodge them, any more than dodge a laser beam, if they had a clear shot. Indeed, one reason for the advances in soundwave weapons was the search for a way to take out a rail-gun emplacement with something other than a missile that the gun could simply shoot down inbound. "You'll have Pacific Federation submarines tracking you for most of the way, with anti-missile weaponry ready against anything that threatens you. They'll have the special acquisition code to be able to keep you in their global positioning; your flight is equipped to deceive regular g.p.s. with a false location and identity. The subs also have special spectrum filters to let them see you through your blur-projections, the better to avoid hitting you by mistake if they have to knock out hostiles close to you. One of your own Monkey Cloud armed robot planes will start flying top cover for you when you pass beyond the submarines' protection; it has permission to stay with you through Alchatkan airspace. Canadian forces will escort you for the last part of the trip, including in Diversity States airspace, which has also been cleared."
Yang nodded. "Sounds thorough."
"It is. After all, ordinary folks who are merely conducting sociological research deserve high-grade security. Just like us other ordinary folks who are merely sharing healthcare knowledge."
Bonnie, eldest of the Yangs' daughters, was determined to be part of the adults' conversation. "We're so ordinary, we could go outside this secret part and no one would know us from palm trees!"
"Only, palm trees can't dance the way you and your sisters can," said her mother.
"You should meet my niece, Meretseger," Prentice told the Chinese girl. "Not really my niece, but I'm an adopted uncle. She's a few years older than you; lives down in Australia now. She dances too, like a professional."
"I've seen her; she did pretty well," remarked Bonnie's father. "But she needs disciplined instruction before she'll be able to stand comparison with our girls." Without letting this turn into an argument, Yang now addressed Professor Siermaala: "I've heard a little about your work: reverting to analog components to thwart malicious codes. Do you expect to _sell_ equipment in America?"
"Not likely. But if we can help some Americans who can't get any help from their Health Rationing Agency, it will be proving the worth of my devices, and raising the chances of selling them elsewhere. Besides, Brendan and Josiah both welcome the chance to visit their native country _without_ risk of being arrested."
"Especially me," put in Josiah. "It's possible I might be able to get in touch with relatives."
Last edited:
Copperfox
Well-known member
As we continue "The Possible Future of A.H."--
ALLOW ME TO REVIEW WHAT I IMAGINED ABOUT CHINA IN THE FUTURE....
Somewhere around three years from our own present time, taking advantage of how weak the United States has become, China simply walks in on, and brazenly takes over, most of the Asian countries near it, including Taiwan, Vietnam, Burma and both Koreas. It also annexes a section of the Russian Federation by naked force. From then on, it begins calling itself "Greater China," in conscious mockery of the way Imperial Japan once proclaimed a "Greater East Asia Co-Prosperity Sphere"--which was really meant ONLY to make JAPAN prosper.
Japan, however, does not get annexed by China, because it manages to keep up enough technological progress that, when joining the new Pacific Federation, it presents a target too strongly defended to be conquered without prohibitive cost. India manages the same on its own; so there still is some counterweight against China's dominance, no thanks to a sissified America. And, fortunately, China itself grows more liberal, in a good sense of "liberal," increasing freedom for all its people.
The Beijing government halts all support to hard-line Muslim regimes when these regimes refuse to stop supporting the Islamic rebel movements in western China. Supporting Israel instead, the Chinese prevent that nation from being destroyed, though requiring it to disarm and rely on Chinese protection. Agents of the former Israeli secret service keep on operating by joining the "secret army;" since their activities are not injurious to China, the Chinese make no attempt to stop them.
America has become so weak that the United Nations is relocated to Beijing. In 2020, the United States holds what will be the last Presidential election it ever sees. After a too-brief return to sanity, Americans have sunk deeper than ever into mindless welfare-state addiction, demanding that ever more and more free stuff be showered onto them out of the sky. The last President to be elected runs on promises that cannot possibly be kept; and mere months into that President's doomed administration, the first feeble call for moderation in giveaway demands only leads to rioting all across America. China steps in, the way the United States used to do in Third World countries, and imposes a solution, cancelling American debts in return for having its way with us. Nearly all U.S. military hardware is taken away, with most going to China but some to other creditor nations. As for territorial integrity, six states are handed over to the Aztlan Movement; Alaska and Hawaii are allowed to go their own ways; and the rest of the former U.S.A. becomes the Diversity States, with Jessica Trevette installed as President, and the entire legislative branch of government replaced by a Soviet-style one-party presidium.
With no serious danger of anyone attacking it, Greater China turns its ambitions to outer space, creating the Lunar Orchard colony on the Moon about a year before this novel begins. But the Chinese learn that their very own Triad mafias have not ceased to be a menace...which is why Lieutenant-Colonel Yang, and other law-enforcement officials who don't come into the story, need to be protected from being murdered.
ALLOW ME TO REVIEW WHAT I IMAGINED ABOUT CHINA IN THE FUTURE....
Somewhere around three years from our own present time, taking advantage of how weak the United States has become, China simply walks in on, and brazenly takes over, most of the Asian countries near it, including Taiwan, Vietnam, Burma and both Koreas. It also annexes a section of the Russian Federation by naked force. From then on, it begins calling itself "Greater China," in conscious mockery of the way Imperial Japan once proclaimed a "Greater East Asia Co-Prosperity Sphere"--which was really meant ONLY to make JAPAN prosper.
Japan, however, does not get annexed by China, because it manages to keep up enough technological progress that, when joining the new Pacific Federation, it presents a target too strongly defended to be conquered without prohibitive cost. India manages the same on its own; so there still is some counterweight against China's dominance, no thanks to a sissified America. And, fortunately, China itself grows more liberal, in a good sense of "liberal," increasing freedom for all its people.
The Beijing government halts all support to hard-line Muslim regimes when these regimes refuse to stop supporting the Islamic rebel movements in western China. Supporting Israel instead, the Chinese prevent that nation from being destroyed, though requiring it to disarm and rely on Chinese protection. Agents of the former Israeli secret service keep on operating by joining the "secret army;" since their activities are not injurious to China, the Chinese make no attempt to stop them.
America has become so weak that the United Nations is relocated to Beijing. In 2020, the United States holds what will be the last Presidential election it ever sees. After a too-brief return to sanity, Americans have sunk deeper than ever into mindless welfare-state addiction, demanding that ever more and more free stuff be showered onto them out of the sky. The last President to be elected runs on promises that cannot possibly be kept; and mere months into that President's doomed administration, the first feeble call for moderation in giveaway demands only leads to rioting all across America. China steps in, the way the United States used to do in Third World countries, and imposes a solution, cancelling American debts in return for having its way with us. Nearly all U.S. military hardware is taken away, with most going to China but some to other creditor nations. As for territorial integrity, six states are handed over to the Aztlan Movement; Alaska and Hawaii are allowed to go their own ways; and the rest of the former U.S.A. becomes the Diversity States, with Jessica Trevette installed as President, and the entire legislative branch of government replaced by a Soviet-style one-party presidium.
With no serious danger of anyone attacking it, Greater China turns its ambitions to outer space, creating the Lunar Orchard colony on the Moon about a year before this novel begins. But the Chinese learn that their very own Triad mafias have not ceased to be a menace...which is why Lieutenant-Colonel Yang, and other law-enforcement officials who don't come into the story, need to be protected from being murdered.
Copperfox
Well-known member
Chapter 98: Incoming Flights
Emilio Vasquez was _finally_ getting his chance to sit in the pilot's seat of his detachment's Great Condor battle helicopter. Beside him as co-pilot, and potentially as mistake-fixer, was Darya Sinkiewicz. Behind them, fully hooked up to his brain-response weapon controls, was Roosevelt Hill. And sitting where Lester Buckley might have sat at the cyber-warfare console (which corresponded to the station Emilio had manned on a Texas Tu-95) was a special guest: Continental Marshal Yelena Gorshkovskaya. The Condor's weapons systems were programmed today for electronic simulation of firing; there was no live ordnance on board; and the otherwise-unused cyber-warfare station was programmed to allow Gorshkovskaya to follow the simulated combat--against Texas Ranger Fu Hai-Sheng, who was flying the unarmed Number 343. Unarmed, that is, except for a targetting laser which had been installed at the top of the rotor shaft, above the blades. With this, Hai-Sheng could simulate attacks without damaging the Condor if he did hit.
So far, in over twenty minutes of action, Hai-Sheng and 343 had only scored two hits on vital spots, while being "killed" sixteen times.
The two helicopters were dodging around and around the mountain that neighbored Rapid City, the one containing the subterranean installation formerly owned by the Overseers. Commerce Inspectors controlled that stronghold now, and many of them were watching the combat exercise in their springtime sky. But where the Condor was, they saw only a translucent shimmering; the gunship mounted holographic blur-projectors of a higher quality than any manufactured in the Diversity States. These provided a large enough and variable enough space of light-interference that the Condor did not have to be in the center of it. As was the case with the plane transporting Yang Sung-Kuo, this feature was indispensible if the Condor was to have any chance of _not_ being hit when fired upon by a ground-based rail gun. (Although, as far as anyone knew, the only real enemies nearby, the Aztlanos, possessed no EMRG's.) The two hits made by Hai-Sheng had been intelligent guesses, based on his familiarity with Emilio's flying style.
The effectiveness of the holographic cloaking also meant that Emilio and Darya had to wear spectrum-filter visors to see _outward_ through their own concealment. Emitting active radar to find their way would have defeated the purpose of obscuring their exact location. Roosevelt, for his part, was "seeing" through the passive sensors of the Condor's computer brain. As for the Continental Marshal, she was so accustomed to doing much of her work in cyberspace, that she scarcely bothered to look out the windows at the adversary aircraft, though she also had a visor that would let her see through the blurring field. Her terminal could follow what the weapons officer was seeing.
Of the three Texans on board, it was Darya who was least intensely engaged in the exercise, and so could answer questions via helmet intercom. Gorshkovskaya asked, "Has all of this flying been done by Lieutenant Vasquez?" She asked this question because she had been told earlier that the gunship could be piloted from any of the four operational seats. (There was a space to the rear where one more person could be seated at need; most of the time, this place would be used by the crew members to stow their gear.)
"All of it so far, ma'am," Darya replied. "The brain-commanded fire-control computer is programmed to adjust aim for all changes of attitude in flight. The Ranger aviation leadership made it the default arrangement for the weapons station to assume dominant maneuvering control only if there are three or more airborne opponents at the same time, with attacking missiles counting as opponents. Or, of course, if both front positions are out of commission. The station you're sitting at has lowest control priority, except in certain search-and-rescue situations. But there are various parameter changes that can be made. For instance, either of the rear seats can become instructor position, if we wanted for some reason to place new trainees in _both_ front seats for a practice flight."
"But the four positions aren't _entirely_ interchangeable. Only the weapons-officer position has the direct brainwave link. So what happens if someone else wants to fire the weapons?"
"Limited mode in that case, ma'am. As long as the chopper's computer system is otherwise intact, the other stations can control _any_ of the weapons, but no one station without the brain-linkage can fire _all_ of them at once, and without brainwave control there's less efficiency in deciding whether to change parameters for the fire-control computer."
During this exchange, Roosevelt Hill simulated firing the Condor's most unusual weapon: a missile which, if actually fired, would almost instantly come apart into swiftly-expanding coils of steel cable. This was an adaptation of the "continuous rod" warheads which had existed for decades in air-to-air missiles carried by jet fighters. The computer judged that Hai-Sheng was "killed" in spite of having been starting to duck around the mountain; he had been flying so close to the slope that the expanding cable was calculated as snagging against the slope and whipping around the curve after the fleeing Number 343. A weapon like this was something that Great Condor crews feared _more_ than they feared rail-gun projectiles, because the great spread of that outward-whipping cable would make their invisibility irrelevant.
"What if you lost computers altogether?" asked the Continental Marshal.
"Then only the pilot and co-pilot positions would be able to fire the two forward-facing rotary cannons manually. The rear-facing cannon could also be fired, but pretty much blindly. Unguided rocket ordnance, if mounted, could be fired manually, but that's ground-attack stuff, not air-to-air. Any position would be able to keep the blur-projectors working, but no longer able to vary the shape of the distortion field. All guided missiles, the optional sonic stunner, and the blinder lasers, would become inoperative. Our dependency on computers is one reason why we have a cyber-warfare position--to keep from being hacked in mid-flight."
Yelena Gorshkovskaya fell silent then, until the air-battle exercise was ended. As they were starting to return her to where they had picked her up at the former Ellsworth Air Force Base, she suddenly said: "Lieutenant Vasquez, how soon do you think the Marshals' Service can obtain some of these Condors?"
Emilio didn't look at the Continental Marshal, and the smugness was _almost_ indetectable in his voice. "Unfortunately, ma'am, the Mexicans were totally adamant on this point, that no one in the D.S.A. but Texas Rangers must be permitted to fly the Great Condors. They seem to think that the Marshals' Service is less trustworthy than we are."
Emilio Vasquez was _finally_ getting his chance to sit in the pilot's seat of his detachment's Great Condor battle helicopter. Beside him as co-pilot, and potentially as mistake-fixer, was Darya Sinkiewicz. Behind them, fully hooked up to his brain-response weapon controls, was Roosevelt Hill. And sitting where Lester Buckley might have sat at the cyber-warfare console (which corresponded to the station Emilio had manned on a Texas Tu-95) was a special guest: Continental Marshal Yelena Gorshkovskaya. The Condor's weapons systems were programmed today for electronic simulation of firing; there was no live ordnance on board; and the otherwise-unused cyber-warfare station was programmed to allow Gorshkovskaya to follow the simulated combat--against Texas Ranger Fu Hai-Sheng, who was flying the unarmed Number 343. Unarmed, that is, except for a targetting laser which had been installed at the top of the rotor shaft, above the blades. With this, Hai-Sheng could simulate attacks without damaging the Condor if he did hit.
So far, in over twenty minutes of action, Hai-Sheng and 343 had only scored two hits on vital spots, while being "killed" sixteen times.
The two helicopters were dodging around and around the mountain that neighbored Rapid City, the one containing the subterranean installation formerly owned by the Overseers. Commerce Inspectors controlled that stronghold now, and many of them were watching the combat exercise in their springtime sky. But where the Condor was, they saw only a translucent shimmering; the gunship mounted holographic blur-projectors of a higher quality than any manufactured in the Diversity States. These provided a large enough and variable enough space of light-interference that the Condor did not have to be in the center of it. As was the case with the plane transporting Yang Sung-Kuo, this feature was indispensible if the Condor was to have any chance of _not_ being hit when fired upon by a ground-based rail gun. (Although, as far as anyone knew, the only real enemies nearby, the Aztlanos, possessed no EMRG's.) The two hits made by Hai-Sheng had been intelligent guesses, based on his familiarity with Emilio's flying style.
The effectiveness of the holographic cloaking also meant that Emilio and Darya had to wear spectrum-filter visors to see _outward_ through their own concealment. Emitting active radar to find their way would have defeated the purpose of obscuring their exact location. Roosevelt, for his part, was "seeing" through the passive sensors of the Condor's computer brain. As for the Continental Marshal, she was so accustomed to doing much of her work in cyberspace, that she scarcely bothered to look out the windows at the adversary aircraft, though she also had a visor that would let her see through the blurring field. Her terminal could follow what the weapons officer was seeing.
Of the three Texans on board, it was Darya who was least intensely engaged in the exercise, and so could answer questions via helmet intercom. Gorshkovskaya asked, "Has all of this flying been done by Lieutenant Vasquez?" She asked this question because she had been told earlier that the gunship could be piloted from any of the four operational seats. (There was a space to the rear where one more person could be seated at need; most of the time, this place would be used by the crew members to stow their gear.)
"All of it so far, ma'am," Darya replied. "The brain-commanded fire-control computer is programmed to adjust aim for all changes of attitude in flight. The Ranger aviation leadership made it the default arrangement for the weapons station to assume dominant maneuvering control only if there are three or more airborne opponents at the same time, with attacking missiles counting as opponents. Or, of course, if both front positions are out of commission. The station you're sitting at has lowest control priority, except in certain search-and-rescue situations. But there are various parameter changes that can be made. For instance, either of the rear seats can become instructor position, if we wanted for some reason to place new trainees in _both_ front seats for a practice flight."
"But the four positions aren't _entirely_ interchangeable. Only the weapons-officer position has the direct brainwave link. So what happens if someone else wants to fire the weapons?"
"Limited mode in that case, ma'am. As long as the chopper's computer system is otherwise intact, the other stations can control _any_ of the weapons, but no one station without the brain-linkage can fire _all_ of them at once, and without brainwave control there's less efficiency in deciding whether to change parameters for the fire-control computer."
During this exchange, Roosevelt Hill simulated firing the Condor's most unusual weapon: a missile which, if actually fired, would almost instantly come apart into swiftly-expanding coils of steel cable. This was an adaptation of the "continuous rod" warheads which had existed for decades in air-to-air missiles carried by jet fighters. The computer judged that Hai-Sheng was "killed" in spite of having been starting to duck around the mountain; he had been flying so close to the slope that the expanding cable was calculated as snagging against the slope and whipping around the curve after the fleeing Number 343. A weapon like this was something that Great Condor crews feared _more_ than they feared rail-gun projectiles, because the great spread of that outward-whipping cable would make their invisibility irrelevant.
"What if you lost computers altogether?" asked the Continental Marshal.
"Then only the pilot and co-pilot positions would be able to fire the two forward-facing rotary cannons manually. The rear-facing cannon could also be fired, but pretty much blindly. Unguided rocket ordnance, if mounted, could be fired manually, but that's ground-attack stuff, not air-to-air. Any position would be able to keep the blur-projectors working, but no longer able to vary the shape of the distortion field. All guided missiles, the optional sonic stunner, and the blinder lasers, would become inoperative. Our dependency on computers is one reason why we have a cyber-warfare position--to keep from being hacked in mid-flight."
Yelena Gorshkovskaya fell silent then, until the air-battle exercise was ended. As they were starting to return her to where they had picked her up at the former Ellsworth Air Force Base, she suddenly said: "Lieutenant Vasquez, how soon do you think the Marshals' Service can obtain some of these Condors?"
Emilio didn't look at the Continental Marshal, and the smugness was _almost_ indetectable in his voice. "Unfortunately, ma'am, the Mexicans were totally adamant on this point, that no one in the D.S.A. but Texas Rangers must be permitted to fly the Great Condors. They seem to think that the Marshals' Service is less trustworthy than we are."
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Zella
New member
Copperfox
Well-known member
Rather than take umbrage, Gorshkovskaya scaled back her eagerness, remarking: "I can see how a foreign government might feel that way, _particularly_ now that the Marshals' Service has to take orders from a Supreme Court that's headed by a pre-adolescent boy."
"Yeah, I've heard about him," Emilio sympathized; "the champion of species equality. I wonder if one of his animal identities ever makes derogatory remarks against another one. He might have to bring a hate-speech lawsuit against himself."
Fu Hai-Sheng, flying close formation with them now that the Condor's blurring field was shut off, called to say, "Are you following the civil air traffic frequencies? We've got something unusual coming our way from the northwest. Five aircraft all at once, on an identical course, out of Canada. Almost at the Enclave perimeter now."
"Let me see what I can read on them by sensors," replied Roosevelt Hill. As Roosevelt began this process, Emilio switched his receiver to sweep the frequencies digitally indicated by Ranger Fu. The first thing he noticed was that, although they were travelling together, no one was speaking as a leader for all the airplanes; in fact, all of them were conducting their own entirely separate approach communications with the Rapid City control tower, as if they had nothing to do with each other. Tapping the satellite system for a voice playback, he heard that one flight identified itself as a private plane belonging to the University of British Columbia, involved in climate research, while another claimed to be carrying a Canadian diplomatic courier.
"Those are all jets!" Roosevelt suddenly exclaimed. "They're flying at speeds a prop craft could easily manage, but thermal imagery of their engines declares jet exhaust. Hai-Sheng, are you _sure_ they're coming out of Canada?"
Without a word, Emilio gunned the speed on the Condor, then hand-signalled for Darya to take over flying the ship. Hai-Sheng, knowing his boss, did not ask on the radio why he was in a hurry; but he also sped up. Emilio linked into the Condor's g.p.s. function, to see if he could spot and break any deceptive tracking data. All four Texas Rangers knew what was on the Lieutenant's mind: Were those planes really out of _Aztlan?_ Could the Aztlanos now be all up to date in g.p.s. deception, so as to _seem_ to be coming out of Canada? And how fast could the Rangers get to Ellsworth, load some actual weapons, and get airborne again?
Darya was already making a call to Jared Hart, who was in charge of the ground crew that had been put together for this exercise. This crew, other than Jared himself and the temporarily-grounded Lester Buckley, consisted of Transport Police--with Forest Rangers Mark Terrell and Dana Pickering on guard so that no one law-enforcement entity would have sole control over the live weapons being kept on standby for the Texas detachment. When Jared acknowledged the call, Darya told him, "Rodeo clowns, assist the bull rider now in the chute!"
"Rodeo clowns, ten-four," Jared replied, not letting any tension show in his voice.
An instant later, however, Yelena Gorshkovskaya exclaimed, "Wait! If that was a battle-stations alert, you can cancel it! I _know_ that those planes are friendly! I'm really here to meet them!"
They were already over the airfield, having only to make sure there were no collision hazards before they descended. Emilio, Darya and Roosevelt all stared at the Continental Marshal; Darya and Emilio stared at each other; then Darya called back to Jared to say, "Stand by on clowns till manure's been shovelled."
"Ten-four, waiting on standby." Jared would still have the ordnance ready to load when they touched down, unless he received a definite all-clear.
Emilio kept looking at Gorshkovskaya until she explained: "Persons of importance are being transported to the Enclave. Some are here for purposes relating to health care; they're going to be greeted by officials of the Health Rationing Agency before they move on to make some hospital visits outside the Enclave. The other new arrivals will be staying _inside_ the fence, and I'm their official greeter; but since there was time to spare, and since it provided a different rationale for me to be here, I indulged my curiosity about the performance of your Mexican gunship."
"Mainly designed by United States emigrants," Emilio reminded her.
"Indeed. Anyway, I wasn't going to reveal this to you till after we landed, but I owe you the courtesy not to make you scramble for nothing. One of the incoming aircraft is the passenger flight carrying the important persons; the other four are--"
"Upgraded F-35's," Roosevelt finished for her. "I've got them pegged by type from their signature data, thermal and otherwise; and the Lieutenant already cracked their g.p.s. deception to confirm Canadian subordination. We have _good_ cyber-assets." Those fighters were among the last jet fighters ever manufactured in the old United States; and at the breakup of the United States, the Chinese had felt generous enough to let the Canadians have some of them. Not being under any constraints not to keep abreast of advances in military aviation, the Canadians had upgraded the F-35's with the best armaments and avionics they possessed, so that these fighters could stand up well in air battles against anything short of the best robot planes possessed by China and India.
"Those are the passenger plane's protective escort," said Gorshkovskaya. "All this was arranged with the Party and the administration. So you have nothing to worry about with them, Lieutenant; but I do commend your alertness. As a matter of fact, one of the people who'll be residing in the Enclave for a time is someone you know about: the Chinese researcher who sparred with the brother of your cohabitant."
Emilio let pass that intentional insult to his marital relationship; he had already tweaked the Continental Marshal's nose enough. Darya, meanwhile, told Jared, "Bull rider withdrawn; time for some pecan pie."
Both helicopters landed at Ellsworth, with about two minutes to spare ahead of the five jets landing. Seeing Lester, Emilio said, "Thanks for lending me the Condor; I didn't scratch or dent it."
Lester smiled. "Sergeant O'Keefe will be glad to hear that; he's been hoping to impress girls with it."
The jets were landing now, one after another. Jared led his team to give a post-flight inspection to both choppers. Mark and Dana welcomed back the "other kind" Rangers. Then the Continental Marshal tapped Emilio on the shoulder. "Lieutenant, since you've been so obliging, and since Yang Sung-Kuo is someone who's known to you at least indirectly, it's only fair for you to join me and the Distribution Undersecretary in the official welcoming party."
"Thank you, ma'am, it'll be a pleasure."
Emilio looked at the fighters and the passenger jet rolling up along the taxiway. He reflected on his countless conversations in Texas with former fighter pilots from the U.S. Air Force, Navy and Marine Corps--all of them sadly missing the wild blue yonder, many of them able to recite the famous poem "High Flight." How did we come to this, with _any_ kind of jet being an unheard-of novelty in our airspace, _other_ than lousy Aztlanos _attacking_ us? he mentally sighed. But of course, he knew how it had happened: Americans had sold their souls for a bowl of entitlement soup and thirty pieces of political correctness.
The United States Emilio had known would never come back. But it had always been true that the Kingdom of God was the _only_ nation that could _never_ perish. And in the service of _that_ Kingdom, not of the Fairness Party, Emilio Vasquez would carry on in whatever way he could.
"Yeah, I've heard about him," Emilio sympathized; "the champion of species equality. I wonder if one of his animal identities ever makes derogatory remarks against another one. He might have to bring a hate-speech lawsuit against himself."
Fu Hai-Sheng, flying close formation with them now that the Condor's blurring field was shut off, called to say, "Are you following the civil air traffic frequencies? We've got something unusual coming our way from the northwest. Five aircraft all at once, on an identical course, out of Canada. Almost at the Enclave perimeter now."
"Let me see what I can read on them by sensors," replied Roosevelt Hill. As Roosevelt began this process, Emilio switched his receiver to sweep the frequencies digitally indicated by Ranger Fu. The first thing he noticed was that, although they were travelling together, no one was speaking as a leader for all the airplanes; in fact, all of them were conducting their own entirely separate approach communications with the Rapid City control tower, as if they had nothing to do with each other. Tapping the satellite system for a voice playback, he heard that one flight identified itself as a private plane belonging to the University of British Columbia, involved in climate research, while another claimed to be carrying a Canadian diplomatic courier.
"Those are all jets!" Roosevelt suddenly exclaimed. "They're flying at speeds a prop craft could easily manage, but thermal imagery of their engines declares jet exhaust. Hai-Sheng, are you _sure_ they're coming out of Canada?"
Without a word, Emilio gunned the speed on the Condor, then hand-signalled for Darya to take over flying the ship. Hai-Sheng, knowing his boss, did not ask on the radio why he was in a hurry; but he also sped up. Emilio linked into the Condor's g.p.s. function, to see if he could spot and break any deceptive tracking data. All four Texas Rangers knew what was on the Lieutenant's mind: Were those planes really out of _Aztlan?_ Could the Aztlanos now be all up to date in g.p.s. deception, so as to _seem_ to be coming out of Canada? And how fast could the Rangers get to Ellsworth, load some actual weapons, and get airborne again?
Darya was already making a call to Jared Hart, who was in charge of the ground crew that had been put together for this exercise. This crew, other than Jared himself and the temporarily-grounded Lester Buckley, consisted of Transport Police--with Forest Rangers Mark Terrell and Dana Pickering on guard so that no one law-enforcement entity would have sole control over the live weapons being kept on standby for the Texas detachment. When Jared acknowledged the call, Darya told him, "Rodeo clowns, assist the bull rider now in the chute!"
"Rodeo clowns, ten-four," Jared replied, not letting any tension show in his voice.
An instant later, however, Yelena Gorshkovskaya exclaimed, "Wait! If that was a battle-stations alert, you can cancel it! I _know_ that those planes are friendly! I'm really here to meet them!"
They were already over the airfield, having only to make sure there were no collision hazards before they descended. Emilio, Darya and Roosevelt all stared at the Continental Marshal; Darya and Emilio stared at each other; then Darya called back to Jared to say, "Stand by on clowns till manure's been shovelled."
"Ten-four, waiting on standby." Jared would still have the ordnance ready to load when they touched down, unless he received a definite all-clear.
Emilio kept looking at Gorshkovskaya until she explained: "Persons of importance are being transported to the Enclave. Some are here for purposes relating to health care; they're going to be greeted by officials of the Health Rationing Agency before they move on to make some hospital visits outside the Enclave. The other new arrivals will be staying _inside_ the fence, and I'm their official greeter; but since there was time to spare, and since it provided a different rationale for me to be here, I indulged my curiosity about the performance of your Mexican gunship."
"Mainly designed by United States emigrants," Emilio reminded her.
"Indeed. Anyway, I wasn't going to reveal this to you till after we landed, but I owe you the courtesy not to make you scramble for nothing. One of the incoming aircraft is the passenger flight carrying the important persons; the other four are--"
"Upgraded F-35's," Roosevelt finished for her. "I've got them pegged by type from their signature data, thermal and otherwise; and the Lieutenant already cracked their g.p.s. deception to confirm Canadian subordination. We have _good_ cyber-assets." Those fighters were among the last jet fighters ever manufactured in the old United States; and at the breakup of the United States, the Chinese had felt generous enough to let the Canadians have some of them. Not being under any constraints not to keep abreast of advances in military aviation, the Canadians had upgraded the F-35's with the best armaments and avionics they possessed, so that these fighters could stand up well in air battles against anything short of the best robot planes possessed by China and India.
"Those are the passenger plane's protective escort," said Gorshkovskaya. "All this was arranged with the Party and the administration. So you have nothing to worry about with them, Lieutenant; but I do commend your alertness. As a matter of fact, one of the people who'll be residing in the Enclave for a time is someone you know about: the Chinese researcher who sparred with the brother of your cohabitant."
Emilio let pass that intentional insult to his marital relationship; he had already tweaked the Continental Marshal's nose enough. Darya, meanwhile, told Jared, "Bull rider withdrawn; time for some pecan pie."
Both helicopters landed at Ellsworth, with about two minutes to spare ahead of the five jets landing. Seeing Lester, Emilio said, "Thanks for lending me the Condor; I didn't scratch or dent it."
Lester smiled. "Sergeant O'Keefe will be glad to hear that; he's been hoping to impress girls with it."
The jets were landing now, one after another. Jared led his team to give a post-flight inspection to both choppers. Mark and Dana welcomed back the "other kind" Rangers. Then the Continental Marshal tapped Emilio on the shoulder. "Lieutenant, since you've been so obliging, and since Yang Sung-Kuo is someone who's known to you at least indirectly, it's only fair for you to join me and the Distribution Undersecretary in the official welcoming party."
"Thank you, ma'am, it'll be a pleasure."
Emilio looked at the fighters and the passenger jet rolling up along the taxiway. He reflected on his countless conversations in Texas with former fighter pilots from the U.S. Air Force, Navy and Marine Corps--all of them sadly missing the wild blue yonder, many of them able to recite the famous poem "High Flight." How did we come to this, with _any_ kind of jet being an unheard-of novelty in our airspace, _other_ than lousy Aztlanos _attacking_ us? he mentally sighed. But of course, he knew how it had happened: Americans had sold their souls for a bowl of entitlement soup and thirty pieces of political correctness.
The United States Emilio had known would never come back. But it had always been true that the Kingdom of God was the _only_ nation that could _never_ perish. And in the service of _that_ Kingdom, not of the Fairness Party, Emilio Vasquez would carry on in whatever way he could.
Last edited:
Zella
New member
Copperfox
Well-known member
The Canadian fighter pilots would be fed and lodged for the night in former Overseer quarters before they returned home. Right now, the "Sky Rangers" who had been in the exercise with Emilio engaged the Canadians in conversation, since none of them had never met any Canadian military personnel in an official capacity. The fighter pilots had been able to observe the later part of the air-combat simulation, and were considered friends by the Texans; thus there was much for Hai-Sheng, Darya and Roosevelt to talk with them about.
Leaving his helmet with Lester, Emilio hastened with Gorshkovskaya to join the Distribution Undersecretary inside the passenger terminal; she, for her part, was accompanied by three uniformed Commerce Inspectors. The six greeters were spared from bothering about assuming any posed formation, as the passengers were already disembarking. Emilio hung back with the Commerce Inspectors, remembering the words of Jesus about not putting yourself forward at a feast.
"Lieutenant-Colonel Yang, Professor Siermaala, and all you guests, welcome to the Diversity States!" blared the Undersecretary. "I understand that you men in the medical-technology team will be continuing eastward, to rejoin us later; but the quarters in which you'll rest off your jet-lag now will remain assigned to you later. I hope everyone had a pleasant flight."
"We did, thank you," answered the Finnish scientist. "The Yangs are a charming family, and all our needs during the flight were attended to."
"The Professor was good company, too," said Mrs. Yang, with a sidelong glance at Matti Siermaala. "He helped us practice our English while telling us Finnish jokes: an interesting combination. Did you know that there was once a Finnish husband who loved his wife SO much, that he _almost_ told her so?"
"Perhaps," put in her husband, "he really said it to her often, just not in public."
Introducing herself to Yang Sung-Kuo, the Continental Marshal told him, "I'm authorized to issue you a DNA-coded sidearm immediately, like the one that was lent to you when you were here last summer. But tell me, is your partner trained with firearms?"
"My _wife_ is so trained," replied Yang. He had not forgotten the bad impression the late Nash Dockerty had made on him, so that even when fleeing to Diversity States law-enforcement officers for shelter, he could not find it in him to feel much respect for them.
"Then we can have a weapon coded for her use in short order."
"Thank you," said Tupsim. "Ordinarily, I would feel uncomfortable carrying a weapon; but our daughters know to leave them alone, and in our present circumstances every added bit of security is welcome."
During all this chat, the tall Brendan Hyland and the stockier Josiah Redfern were silent, alternately looking at their surroundings and looking at each other. They knew they were sharing the same thought: We're home--yet not at home. It's been so long, but this return is bittersweet.
There was a bit more practical talk as they all moved through the terminal toward the spot where pedicabs would carry the travellers to their temporary sleeping quarters. The three Commerce Inspectors were helping with the luggage, after having inspected it with sensor devices as a formality. Only just before the chance of an introduction for Emilio would have passed, Yang Sung-Kuo asked the Continental Marshal, "And who is this gentleman in the flight suit?"
"Lieutenant Vasquez of the Texas Rangers, in command of an aviation detachment."
Yang's eyebrows widened. "Vasquez? Would you be _Emilio_ Vasquez, brother-in-law to Alipang Havens?"
"The same, sir." Emilio reached to shake hands. "Alipang doesn't know anything yet about your coming, but I know he'll be tickled to see you again."
"Tickled--?? Oh, but of course you mean pleased."
"That's right. Al's been wanting to start formal martial-arts classes for the Grange volunteers; when he knows you're back, he'll be after you to help teach."
Yang smiled; and his wife could have told Emilio that this was almost the first genuinely relaxed smile Sung-Kuo had allowed himself since he had first learned there was a murder contract out on him and his family. "I'm sure we'll speak more about that soon, Lieutenant. And I look forward to seeing Dr. Havens again. I'll have good news to tell him about one of his interests _besides_ fighting."
Leaving his helmet with Lester, Emilio hastened with Gorshkovskaya to join the Distribution Undersecretary inside the passenger terminal; she, for her part, was accompanied by three uniformed Commerce Inspectors. The six greeters were spared from bothering about assuming any posed formation, as the passengers were already disembarking. Emilio hung back with the Commerce Inspectors, remembering the words of Jesus about not putting yourself forward at a feast.
"Lieutenant-Colonel Yang, Professor Siermaala, and all you guests, welcome to the Diversity States!" blared the Undersecretary. "I understand that you men in the medical-technology team will be continuing eastward, to rejoin us later; but the quarters in which you'll rest off your jet-lag now will remain assigned to you later. I hope everyone had a pleasant flight."
"We did, thank you," answered the Finnish scientist. "The Yangs are a charming family, and all our needs during the flight were attended to."
"The Professor was good company, too," said Mrs. Yang, with a sidelong glance at Matti Siermaala. "He helped us practice our English while telling us Finnish jokes: an interesting combination. Did you know that there was once a Finnish husband who loved his wife SO much, that he _almost_ told her so?"
"Perhaps," put in her husband, "he really said it to her often, just not in public."
Introducing herself to Yang Sung-Kuo, the Continental Marshal told him, "I'm authorized to issue you a DNA-coded sidearm immediately, like the one that was lent to you when you were here last summer. But tell me, is your partner trained with firearms?"
"My _wife_ is so trained," replied Yang. He had not forgotten the bad impression the late Nash Dockerty had made on him, so that even when fleeing to Diversity States law-enforcement officers for shelter, he could not find it in him to feel much respect for them.
"Then we can have a weapon coded for her use in short order."
"Thank you," said Tupsim. "Ordinarily, I would feel uncomfortable carrying a weapon; but our daughters know to leave them alone, and in our present circumstances every added bit of security is welcome."
During all this chat, the tall Brendan Hyland and the stockier Josiah Redfern were silent, alternately looking at their surroundings and looking at each other. They knew they were sharing the same thought: We're home--yet not at home. It's been so long, but this return is bittersweet.
There was a bit more practical talk as they all moved through the terminal toward the spot where pedicabs would carry the travellers to their temporary sleeping quarters. The three Commerce Inspectors were helping with the luggage, after having inspected it with sensor devices as a formality. Only just before the chance of an introduction for Emilio would have passed, Yang Sung-Kuo asked the Continental Marshal, "And who is this gentleman in the flight suit?"
"Lieutenant Vasquez of the Texas Rangers, in command of an aviation detachment."
Yang's eyebrows widened. "Vasquez? Would you be _Emilio_ Vasquez, brother-in-law to Alipang Havens?"
"The same, sir." Emilio reached to shake hands. "Alipang doesn't know anything yet about your coming, but I know he'll be tickled to see you again."
"Tickled--?? Oh, but of course you mean pleased."
"That's right. Al's been wanting to start formal martial-arts classes for the Grange volunteers; when he knows you're back, he'll be after you to help teach."
Yang smiled; and his wife could have told Emilio that this was almost the first genuinely relaxed smile Sung-Kuo had allowed himself since he had first learned there was a murder contract out on him and his family. "I'm sure we'll speak more about that soon, Lieutenant. And I look forward to seeing Dr. Havens again. I'll have good news to tell him about one of his interests _besides_ fighting."
Copperfox
Well-known member
On board the Orbital Palace, Nyunt Zeyar and a female Chinese worker who went by the nickname of Amethyst were summoned to the office of the space station's director, Yang Pang-Zhu (who was unrelated to Lieutenant-Colonel Yang).
"The information will be made public soon enough," General Yang told them, "but I'm letting you two know right now: Beijing has decided how to show appreciation to the two Caliphates which _didn't_ attempt to use their Lunar Orchard volunteers to sabotage our Moon colony. It was considered to let them send additional people to the Moon; but our government has decided instead to keep the positive reinforcement Earthbound, in the form of advantageous trade concessions.
"Only _one_ more genetic-variety volunteer will be going to the Moon anytime in the foreseeable future; otherwise, later additions will all be citizens of Greater China."
"Sir, what about temporary foreign personnel?" asked Amethyst. She was recalling how the Diversity States had requested to be allowed to have some of their scientists come to the Lunar Orchard for short-term research work.
"That is not ruled out. But our present concern is with the last foreign woman enroute to the Moon for permanent residence."
"Sir, do you mean she is _now_ enroute?" asked Nyunt.
"So she is; and her selection is a rebuke to Islamic hardliners. For she comes from the moderate-Muslim Parthian Republic, and she herself is not a Muslim, but a Baha'i. Her name is Najoud Mavandi. One of our spaceplanes made a special stop just to pick her up, and she'll be boarding this station in less than two hours."
"Sir, I understand that Parthian women have much more educational opportunity than women in any of the Caliphates," said Amethyst. "Does Miss Mavandi have any technical specialty?"
"Yes, she's trained in mining technology. She'll help to improve methods of mineral and water extraction on the Moon. But on to the matter of what you two will be doing. Amethyst, you will see to Miss Mavandi's living quarters and personal comfort while she's here awaiting her Moon flight. Nyunt, you will oversee her in-processing, show her around the station, and coach her in low-gravity movement."
= = = = = = = = = = = = =
Later, the big Burmese was escorting Najoud Mavandi on a walk down a spiral staircase. This, instead of the elevators at other points, ran the length of one of the spokes between the hub and the rim of the space station, "down" being away from the axis of rotation. This was to let Najoud feel for herself the transition between the micro-gravity at the hub, and the rotational gravity on the rim which was close in force to Lunar gravity. Nyunt perceived that the young Baha'i woman had been chosen more for her brains than her looks; while her appearance was drab (and her _not_ being buried in a chador let this be seen), her questions were highly intelligent.
After substantial discussion of the practicalities of low-gravity living, Najoud suddenly asked her guide: "Is any of the work at the Lunar Orchard intended to serve _military_ purposes?"
Aware that Baha'is were absolute pacifists, Nyunt was not surprised by this question, only a little surprised that she had not raised it sooner. Maybe she had raised it sooner, but was now grabbing the opportunity to ask it of someone who _wasn't_ an ethnic Chinese. He told her truthfully, "As far as I know, nothing of _any_ military application is being done there. It is a payoff of Greater China's supreme strength, that we can _afford_ to run such an operation entirely for purposes of scientific knowledge and the extension of human life into the broader universe."
"Good enough. And of course, I realize that there _isn't_ anyone else even _trying_ to colonize the Moon, so you have no occasion to fight anyone there. I'm sure you know that my people believe in total oneness for humanity; I look forward to being part of a microcosm of that oneness."
Nyunt smiled cordially. "You'll be that, all right--in a very confined microcosm."
"The information will be made public soon enough," General Yang told them, "but I'm letting you two know right now: Beijing has decided how to show appreciation to the two Caliphates which _didn't_ attempt to use their Lunar Orchard volunteers to sabotage our Moon colony. It was considered to let them send additional people to the Moon; but our government has decided instead to keep the positive reinforcement Earthbound, in the form of advantageous trade concessions.
"Only _one_ more genetic-variety volunteer will be going to the Moon anytime in the foreseeable future; otherwise, later additions will all be citizens of Greater China."
"Sir, what about temporary foreign personnel?" asked Amethyst. She was recalling how the Diversity States had requested to be allowed to have some of their scientists come to the Lunar Orchard for short-term research work.
"That is not ruled out. But our present concern is with the last foreign woman enroute to the Moon for permanent residence."
"Sir, do you mean she is _now_ enroute?" asked Nyunt.
"So she is; and her selection is a rebuke to Islamic hardliners. For she comes from the moderate-Muslim Parthian Republic, and she herself is not a Muslim, but a Baha'i. Her name is Najoud Mavandi. One of our spaceplanes made a special stop just to pick her up, and she'll be boarding this station in less than two hours."
"Sir, I understand that Parthian women have much more educational opportunity than women in any of the Caliphates," said Amethyst. "Does Miss Mavandi have any technical specialty?"
"Yes, she's trained in mining technology. She'll help to improve methods of mineral and water extraction on the Moon. But on to the matter of what you two will be doing. Amethyst, you will see to Miss Mavandi's living quarters and personal comfort while she's here awaiting her Moon flight. Nyunt, you will oversee her in-processing, show her around the station, and coach her in low-gravity movement."
= = = = = = = = = = = = =
Later, the big Burmese was escorting Najoud Mavandi on a walk down a spiral staircase. This, instead of the elevators at other points, ran the length of one of the spokes between the hub and the rim of the space station, "down" being away from the axis of rotation. This was to let Najoud feel for herself the transition between the micro-gravity at the hub, and the rotational gravity on the rim which was close in force to Lunar gravity. Nyunt perceived that the young Baha'i woman had been chosen more for her brains than her looks; while her appearance was drab (and her _not_ being buried in a chador let this be seen), her questions were highly intelligent.
After substantial discussion of the practicalities of low-gravity living, Najoud suddenly asked her guide: "Is any of the work at the Lunar Orchard intended to serve _military_ purposes?"
Aware that Baha'is were absolute pacifists, Nyunt was not surprised by this question, only a little surprised that she had not raised it sooner. Maybe she had raised it sooner, but was now grabbing the opportunity to ask it of someone who _wasn't_ an ethnic Chinese. He told her truthfully, "As far as I know, nothing of _any_ military application is being done there. It is a payoff of Greater China's supreme strength, that we can _afford_ to run such an operation entirely for purposes of scientific knowledge and the extension of human life into the broader universe."
"Good enough. And of course, I realize that there _isn't_ anyone else even _trying_ to colonize the Moon, so you have no occasion to fight anyone there. I'm sure you know that my people believe in total oneness for humanity; I look forward to being part of a microcosm of that oneness."
Nyunt smiled cordially. "You'll be that, all right--in a very confined microcosm."
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Copperfox
Well-known member
Colonel Hsiao Luo-Sher of the Chinese Aerospace Force had been on the Beijing Spaceways vessel that picked up Najoud from Parthia, so that he could watch out for her well-being in a low-key fashion. The Colonel had also been watching over another young non-Chinese woman in a far more personally-involved fashion, this being Quasar Henderson, the American juggler whom he had met at the Arlington Pan-Fantasy Fair. Now, having handed Najoud over to Nyunt Zeyar's impersonal but conscientious care, Hsiao was finally enjoying some completely free time with his new lover.
Inside the padded zero-gravity atrium at the very core of the Orbital Palace, having it all to themselves for awhile thanks to his privilege of rank, Hsiao and Quasar were having fun soaring back and forth, while she experimented with ways to juggle tennis balls in weightlessness. The American girl was basking in Hsaio's obvious tender feelings for her, and the considerate treatment of her which expressed his feelings--so much so that she just might be ready to forget all about "alternative domestic structures," and become a terribly old-fashioned _wife_ in China.
* * * * * * * * * * * * *
There was another non-Chinese girl who _didn't_ have such complete freedom as Quasar had, to decide whether she wanted to belong to a Chinese man; for the Chinese man in her case was _not_ the representative of a dictatorship that was in the process of mellowing and becoming more humane. Cho Kwok-Shu, veteran Triad gangster, was the representative of Chinese culture's _worst_ elements; and the girl he wanted for himself had a father who urgently wanted to retain Cho's goodwill.
El Presidente de Aztlan, Tonio Formentera, was not completely without feeling for his sons and daughters. Lupita Formentera had been subjected to brainwave lie detection, and had been asked if she would find it _utterly_ unbearable to be possessed and used by the old thug. Since she did not regard it as quite the end of the world if she were given to Mr. Cho, Mr. Formentera felt easy in his vestigial conscience about handing her over as a Triad concubine.
In return for this, Cho was to provide the Aztlano ruler with more information on what the Triads were doing to survive Beijing's crackdown against them.
A meeting was held at one of Tonio Formentera's guarded and surveillance-shielded villas in California. The only person present in the conference room, besides Mr. Formentera, Mr. Cho and Lupita, was Formentera's henchman Vinu Dandekar. The Aztec-Maoist leader didn't trust _any_ of his sons enough to let them in on _all_ of his secrets. Cho Kwok-Shu sympathized with this caution; he also was in the habit of taking care for what he told to whom. But now he opened up on an _extremely_ well-kept secret:
"You know that we form our strategies for long spans of time. As soon as we first heard about plans for a Moon colony, we went to work devising alternate schemes: for how we might take over such a colony as a refuge for ourselves...or how we might find a way of being able to destroy it, so as to gain leverage by the threat of destroying it...or how we might create an _illusion_ of ourselves trying to do one of those things, as a grand diversion to mask our more-mundane actual plans."
President Formentera was eager to hear more. "Are you going to tell me which course you've decided on?"
"Yes. The _pretense_ of a Lunar Orchard takeover, as a distraction, has been judged to be more cost-efficient for our purposes than any sort of _actual_ takeover. Thus, those two Diversity States women, Miss Miller and Miss Tigobo, shall soon be activated as saboteurs, with a mission of taking control rather than destroying. Meanwhile, we have caused an unregistered spacecraft to be built in Brazil. You know the business and legal climate in Brazil: things can be done there without many questions from the government, if you pay enough. At our chosen time, the spacecraft will be launched toward the Moon, actually unmanned, but _appearing_ to be carrying Triad leaders. We'll permit Chinese authorities to figure out--as it will seem to them--that we've made the Lunar Orchard our own hideout. Their process of 'uncovering' this plot of ours, and then of deciding what to do about it, will keep their attention riveted on the Moon...while we implement the _real_ plan here on Earth."
"Your plan to fortify yourselves in an Aztlan whose military strength you secretly help us to increase."
"Exactly." Cho glanced lustfully at Lupita. "After all, I find Aztlan _much_ more hospitable than a Moon colony would be."
"And if I may ask, how will Faye Miller and Luminessa Tigobo be triggered to remember their mission?"
"By coming into contact with someone whose subtle biochemical modification will stimulate the memory of their instructions. Once activated, Miss Miller and Miss Tigobo will acquire an ability similar to that of Jessica Trevette, to make people _want_ to follow their orders. Only, in this case, the influence will not be bound up with sexual feelings; we don't want anyone _fighting_ over Miss Miller and Miss Tigobo in that enclosed environment. Rather, they will make everyone feel immense _respect_ for them; everyone under their influence will assume that whatever they say, _must_ be right. So we will have an undamaged Lunar Orchard under our command. This may profit us in itself; but the main purpose is still to convince Beijing that a Moon sanctuary is our primary aim, so that they _won't_ suspect how important Aztlan is to us."
"I love it! But you haven't said who is the person to revive the saboteurs' memory of their assignment."
"She isn't anyone you ever heard of. The Triads have long had agents in all of the smaller, independent nations, ready and waiting to bring citizens of those countries under our control for any necessary project. Our agents in the Parthian Republic were ready to intervene when that nation received the privilege of sending a woman to the Lunar Orchard. At the medical examination which preceded her departure for space, a Parthian woman named Najoud Mavandi was permeated, without her knowledge, with the stealth chemical that will perform the triggering when she meets Tigobo and Miller on the Moon. She'll never even realize it, but she'll be the switch that sets our diversionary strategy in motion."
"Fascinating!" exclaimed Formentera. "But right now, I believe you've been wanting to set my daughter in motion..."
Inside the padded zero-gravity atrium at the very core of the Orbital Palace, having it all to themselves for awhile thanks to his privilege of rank, Hsiao and Quasar were having fun soaring back and forth, while she experimented with ways to juggle tennis balls in weightlessness. The American girl was basking in Hsaio's obvious tender feelings for her, and the considerate treatment of her which expressed his feelings--so much so that she just might be ready to forget all about "alternative domestic structures," and become a terribly old-fashioned _wife_ in China.
* * * * * * * * * * * * *
There was another non-Chinese girl who _didn't_ have such complete freedom as Quasar had, to decide whether she wanted to belong to a Chinese man; for the Chinese man in her case was _not_ the representative of a dictatorship that was in the process of mellowing and becoming more humane. Cho Kwok-Shu, veteran Triad gangster, was the representative of Chinese culture's _worst_ elements; and the girl he wanted for himself had a father who urgently wanted to retain Cho's goodwill.
El Presidente de Aztlan, Tonio Formentera, was not completely without feeling for his sons and daughters. Lupita Formentera had been subjected to brainwave lie detection, and had been asked if she would find it _utterly_ unbearable to be possessed and used by the old thug. Since she did not regard it as quite the end of the world if she were given to Mr. Cho, Mr. Formentera felt easy in his vestigial conscience about handing her over as a Triad concubine.
In return for this, Cho was to provide the Aztlano ruler with more information on what the Triads were doing to survive Beijing's crackdown against them.
A meeting was held at one of Tonio Formentera's guarded and surveillance-shielded villas in California. The only person present in the conference room, besides Mr. Formentera, Mr. Cho and Lupita, was Formentera's henchman Vinu Dandekar. The Aztec-Maoist leader didn't trust _any_ of his sons enough to let them in on _all_ of his secrets. Cho Kwok-Shu sympathized with this caution; he also was in the habit of taking care for what he told to whom. But now he opened up on an _extremely_ well-kept secret:
"You know that we form our strategies for long spans of time. As soon as we first heard about plans for a Moon colony, we went to work devising alternate schemes: for how we might take over such a colony as a refuge for ourselves...or how we might find a way of being able to destroy it, so as to gain leverage by the threat of destroying it...or how we might create an _illusion_ of ourselves trying to do one of those things, as a grand diversion to mask our more-mundane actual plans."
President Formentera was eager to hear more. "Are you going to tell me which course you've decided on?"
"Yes. The _pretense_ of a Lunar Orchard takeover, as a distraction, has been judged to be more cost-efficient for our purposes than any sort of _actual_ takeover. Thus, those two Diversity States women, Miss Miller and Miss Tigobo, shall soon be activated as saboteurs, with a mission of taking control rather than destroying. Meanwhile, we have caused an unregistered spacecraft to be built in Brazil. You know the business and legal climate in Brazil: things can be done there without many questions from the government, if you pay enough. At our chosen time, the spacecraft will be launched toward the Moon, actually unmanned, but _appearing_ to be carrying Triad leaders. We'll permit Chinese authorities to figure out--as it will seem to them--that we've made the Lunar Orchard our own hideout. Their process of 'uncovering' this plot of ours, and then of deciding what to do about it, will keep their attention riveted on the Moon...while we implement the _real_ plan here on Earth."
"Your plan to fortify yourselves in an Aztlan whose military strength you secretly help us to increase."
"Exactly." Cho glanced lustfully at Lupita. "After all, I find Aztlan _much_ more hospitable than a Moon colony would be."
"And if I may ask, how will Faye Miller and Luminessa Tigobo be triggered to remember their mission?"
"By coming into contact with someone whose subtle biochemical modification will stimulate the memory of their instructions. Once activated, Miss Miller and Miss Tigobo will acquire an ability similar to that of Jessica Trevette, to make people _want_ to follow their orders. Only, in this case, the influence will not be bound up with sexual feelings; we don't want anyone _fighting_ over Miss Miller and Miss Tigobo in that enclosed environment. Rather, they will make everyone feel immense _respect_ for them; everyone under their influence will assume that whatever they say, _must_ be right. So we will have an undamaged Lunar Orchard under our command. This may profit us in itself; but the main purpose is still to convince Beijing that a Moon sanctuary is our primary aim, so that they _won't_ suspect how important Aztlan is to us."
"I love it! But you haven't said who is the person to revive the saboteurs' memory of their assignment."
"She isn't anyone you ever heard of. The Triads have long had agents in all of the smaller, independent nations, ready and waiting to bring citizens of those countries under our control for any necessary project. Our agents in the Parthian Republic were ready to intervene when that nation received the privilege of sending a woman to the Lunar Orchard. At the medical examination which preceded her departure for space, a Parthian woman named Najoud Mavandi was permeated, without her knowledge, with the stealth chemical that will perform the triggering when she meets Tigobo and Miller on the Moon. She'll never even realize it, but she'll be the switch that sets our diversionary strategy in motion."
"Fascinating!" exclaimed Formentera. "But right now, I believe you've been wanting to set my daughter in motion..."
Copperfox
Well-known member
After parting company with Continental Marshal Gorshkovskaya, and before getting airborne for Natrona Airport, Emilio Vasquez ascertained a landline phone number through which Lieutenant-Colonel Yang's temporary lodgings could be reached. He relayed this to his brother-in-law in the timeliest way possible. Alipang did not call Yang the same night, in view of how tired the whole Yang family would be right now; but the two martial artists would enjoy an extended phone conversation the next morning. The conversation was destined, as Emilio had thought, to include the subject of Yang teaching his kung-fu style to Americans, as well as enthusiastic urging for the Yangs to spend some of their time in Sussex. The most emotionally charged subject of all, however, would be Yang's announcement to Alipang--something Yang had feared to put in a letter to the Filipino dentist, lest it get Alipang in trouble--that Yang had followed Mrs. Yang's example and begun to follow Jesus.
The rejoicing of angels in Heaven could scarcely be any livelier than the rejoicing felt by Alipang upon this news, and by his family when they heard him repeat it.
Two residents of Heaven, as it happened, were looking down just then, on still-mortal souls who were dear to them. These two, who wore the martyr's crown, shared in Alipang's joy at gaining a new brother in faith; they observed with approval the consistently tender and considerate way Bill Shao behaved toward Lorraine; and they derived a firm satisfaction from Ransom's efforts to draw closer to God. But they were to be made aware of a new trial coming Ransom's way; and they would be as close to being worried as blessed spirits in Heaven could be, which admittedly was not very close.
"Hey, Quinn, look further east: that cargo plane flying over the Mississippi. Look inside it!"
The martyred Wilson Kramer, and his martyred elder son, could see through solid objects at will. Quinn beheld a military-style airplane interior. There, without the modest comforts of an Atmosfleet airliner, twenty-six men and women in utilitarian clothing were being transported... "I see them, Dad. I sense that they're the largest batch of Self-Esteem Center inmates yet to be redesignated for the Enclave. And... Oh! How about that! One of our murderers is among them!"
"Right. The very one who pretended he was being tortured by fellow prisoners, so I would respond to his cries for help, and who then stuck a knife in my back while I was putting down the others." Quinn, of course, had gone down trying to help his father. The guards, and the convicts whom they had recruited for this hit by promises of better treatment, had of course been afraid to take on Wilson Kramer, even as an unarmed prisoner, without the odds enormously rigged in their favor. The guards had not used any firearms, because firearm use would have gone into a database which might just possibly have been seen by someone with integrity; but with the double assassination performed by hand weapons and treachery, they had gotten away with claiming an "accident." After the two slain Kramers had received their "Well done!" from their Savior, Wilson had made his first joke as a risen spirit, saying to Quinn, "The family that does God's will together, gets killed together!" For up there, they could literally laugh at death.
Now Quinn remarked, "That Anselmo fellow must be planning for my brother to find out who this man is and what he did." Putting forth his power of saintly intuition, Quinn then added, "Yep, he is. How petty can you get for tastes in entertainment?"
The SEALS veteran agreed. "He's like that Nash Dockerty, only not so bloodthirsty. He wants to believe that Christians are all hypocrites; and with Ransom having committed to the Amish, it'll be all the more entertaining to Anselmo if Ransom gives in to hating our murderer."
"I feel sorry for the man," said Quinn. "I perceive that they programmed him to be unable to defend himself, so that he'll be completely defenseless if Ransom does attack him."
"So let's pray, son: that your kid brother will be given victory over the temptation to lose control, and that our murderer will be saved from Hell."
"Right, Dad. We'd better also pray that Alipang doesn't kill the creep if HE finds out the truth."
The rejoicing of angels in Heaven could scarcely be any livelier than the rejoicing felt by Alipang upon this news, and by his family when they heard him repeat it.
Two residents of Heaven, as it happened, were looking down just then, on still-mortal souls who were dear to them. These two, who wore the martyr's crown, shared in Alipang's joy at gaining a new brother in faith; they observed with approval the consistently tender and considerate way Bill Shao behaved toward Lorraine; and they derived a firm satisfaction from Ransom's efforts to draw closer to God. But they were to be made aware of a new trial coming Ransom's way; and they would be as close to being worried as blessed spirits in Heaven could be, which admittedly was not very close.
"Hey, Quinn, look further east: that cargo plane flying over the Mississippi. Look inside it!"
The martyred Wilson Kramer, and his martyred elder son, could see through solid objects at will. Quinn beheld a military-style airplane interior. There, without the modest comforts of an Atmosfleet airliner, twenty-six men and women in utilitarian clothing were being transported... "I see them, Dad. I sense that they're the largest batch of Self-Esteem Center inmates yet to be redesignated for the Enclave. And... Oh! How about that! One of our murderers is among them!"
"Right. The very one who pretended he was being tortured by fellow prisoners, so I would respond to his cries for help, and who then stuck a knife in my back while I was putting down the others." Quinn, of course, had gone down trying to help his father. The guards, and the convicts whom they had recruited for this hit by promises of better treatment, had of course been afraid to take on Wilson Kramer, even as an unarmed prisoner, without the odds enormously rigged in their favor. The guards had not used any firearms, because firearm use would have gone into a database which might just possibly have been seen by someone with integrity; but with the double assassination performed by hand weapons and treachery, they had gotten away with claiming an "accident." After the two slain Kramers had received their "Well done!" from their Savior, Wilson had made his first joke as a risen spirit, saying to Quinn, "The family that does God's will together, gets killed together!" For up there, they could literally laugh at death.
Now Quinn remarked, "That Anselmo fellow must be planning for my brother to find out who this man is and what he did." Putting forth his power of saintly intuition, Quinn then added, "Yep, he is. How petty can you get for tastes in entertainment?"
The SEALS veteran agreed. "He's like that Nash Dockerty, only not so bloodthirsty. He wants to believe that Christians are all hypocrites; and with Ransom having committed to the Amish, it'll be all the more entertaining to Anselmo if Ransom gives in to hating our murderer."
"I feel sorry for the man," said Quinn. "I perceive that they programmed him to be unable to defend himself, so that he'll be completely defenseless if Ransom does attack him."
"So let's pray, son: that your kid brother will be given victory over the temptation to lose control, and that our murderer will be saved from Hell."
"Right, Dad. We'd better also pray that Alipang doesn't kill the creep if HE finds out the truth."
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