The First Love Of Alipang Havens

It felt strange to Alipang and Kim to be passing beyond what had until recently been the perimeter of the Enclave. Only enough of the old fence and the infrasonic minefields had been removed to allow for a handful of ground-travel routes into the new Yellowstone Sector; entering that northernmost fringe of Wyoming which had never been part of the original Enclave, the exile couple could see still-standing sections of the barrier, though of course these were no longer activated.

As they went, Kim suddenly laughed and remarked, "I just realized: Devil's Tower will now be inside the Enclave! Does that mean that we'll get to meet the space aliens from Close Encounters of the Third Kind?" Alipang replied, "No, it just means that the Party thinks we _are_ the space aliens!"

But they did not get _very_ far beyond the old perimeter that day. The unmaintained state of roads around what had been eastern Wyoming's border with Montana, when combined with a June thunderstorm, slowed their progress. Kostas parked the bus for the night at a deserted truckstop, and some of the Commerce Inspectors explored the building.

Portions of the interior looked as if they had long been in use by animals; something, in fact, skittered away from the humans amid the shadows. Accordingly, after making use of the still-existing toilets, everyone contrived to sleep in the bus. By the Forest Ranger's insistence -- naturally seconded by Alipang -- Kim, with Baby Peggy, was given the best spot, namely the rear half of the aisle of the bus. After nursing her daughter, Kim lay down on her raincoat on the floor, with Alipang's raincoat spread over her, and her head pillowed on her travel bag. Peggy, in her own blankets, lay under a seat: near her mother, yet in a place where there was no danger of Kim rolling over onto her. Alipang slept near them, sitting up -- and remembering a night spent at the airport in Seattle, more than twenty years ago.

The other portion of open floor was awarded to a female Commerce Inspector who had the most driving experience in the group apart from Kostas; this woman would be taking over the driving tomorrow.

The rugged Greek had taken a seat for sleep which allowed him to speak softly with Alipang. "I hear through police channels that, for the sake of hurrying the powerplant construction forward, the Party is discussing a new incentive program. If it's approved, then once the geothermal project is deemed to be showing good results, a few exile workers who are judged to have been especially useful.... will be _released_ from the Enclave, with their families."

"I guess that's plausible," replied Alipang, "since by now they've had years in which to see that it's our nature to contribute to society instead of sponging off it."

"You don't sound excited."

"Why should I be? No one in my family is involved in building the geothermal plants."

"But if you serve as part of the healthcare infrastructure for the project, that _makes_ you part of it. Wouldn't you like a chance to be able to leave the Enclave?"

"That would depend on what we were leaving TO. Here, we already have significant freedom of speech and religion; and it's recently become possible for persons dear to us to come _into_ the Enclave to see us. I'm not sure that life _outside_ the fence would be an improvement for us now. That is, unless we kept on going, all the way to Africa."

The Forest Ranger's black eyebrows rose. "What do you mean by that?"

"Oh, sorry, that's something you haven't been following closely. One of those outside medical technologists who were allowed to enter the Enclave is an old friend of mine, and he lives in Nigeria. Another of them was revealed to be the test-tube father of our friend Daffodil -- who changed his name, as you may have heard. That man lives in Uganda. Both of those African countries enjoy general freedom; I wouldn't mind living in one of them, assuming I could find work, which I'm sure I could. It would also mean being relieved from freezing winters! But I would still be sorry to leave America -- as long as anything remains that is _like_ the America where I grew to adulthood."

Kostas nodded. "And for you, the Western Enclave IS that remnant of the United States."

"That's what it is, all right, _even_ with all the snow and ice of Wyoming winters."
 
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"Lunge onto your left foot... then back... now onto the right foot... then back... left arm straight up, then down... right arm straight up, then down..."

At the former Saint Labre School, shortly before lunchtime on the day when Kostas Demophilos' party would arrive, Evan Rand was leading the equivalent of an old-fashioned aerobics class; at this time, though, the seventy-plus ex-convicts following his instructions were working more to normalize the range of movement in their limbs, than to improve their wind. Evan's wife Summer, their oldest child Michael, and Sarah Highbranch the Native American nurse, were moving among the construction recruits as they exercised, offering suggestions. This rehab group contained all of the worst-malnourished of the recent arrivals at the Northern Cheyenne Reservation; much of their time was devoted to eating, and exercise was kept at cautious levels. Others, who were in better health, were being coached by Rusty the handyman in the use of assorted tools.

A fortyish woman, one of the nutritional assistants, came trotting up to announce to Evan in a joking tone: "Mister Rand, we're saved at last! A squad of police has just driven up from Highway 212, to rescue us all from the terrible crime wave that's been going on!" The "crime wave" to which the exile woman referred, consisted of three trivial scuffles among non-programmed inmates, plus exactly one instance of a blanket being stolen in a dormitory.

"Thank God for the cavalry!" replied Evan in the same kidding manner. "Which band of noble knights do they represent?"

"One senior Forest Ranger, with some low-ranking Commerce Inspectors placed under his leadership. And when they began getting off the bus, I heard one woman saying something about a dentist."

"Dentist?" echoed Summer, who had come up in time to hear what the woman said. "Evan, you don't suppose--?"

Evan's eyes lit up to match those of his wife. "They did say they would visit up here if possible; and with the only project dentist being over at the construction camp... Class, dismissed! Come on, Summer! Michael, go bring your sisters and brother to the parking lot!"

The Rands hurried to where the bus would be. Before they could quite see the man they were looking for, they heard his voice: a voice which carried Evan and Summer back to a happy day eighteen years before, when that same voice had pronounced Evan to be worthy of Summer's affections. Right now, the voice was saying to someone:

"Relax, ladies, I'm not mad at you. If I _were_ to start holding grudges, there'd be plenty of people ahead of you on my gutflak-list, anyway. But you can easily score some positive points with me now: just tell me where--"

By the time Alipang Havens had gotten this far, Evan and Summer had caught sight of him and Kim, the latter holding Baby Peggy. The women to whom Alipang was speaking were the physician's assistants, Freda Weckerling and Myra Brooks -- who had been involved, less than a year ago, in the abduction of Alipang's Apache friend. Freda and Myra did appear intimidated by the short but muscular Filipino; he, however, showed no sign of ill-will toward them.

The shouting of Alipang's name by Evan made it unnecessary for either Freda or Myra to offer any directions; they accordingly faded back and left the reunion to run its own course.

Evan walked fast, but Summer sprinted outright, as Alipang and Kim turned to look at them. It suddenly crossed Evan's mind that he and Summer, due to their ordeals in Self-Esteem Centers, were more drastically changed from their teenage appearance than was the case with Alipang and Kim -- even if one overlooked the two missing fingers on Summer's left hand. The same realization was slower to dawn on Summer; it only struck her when she was within three paces of her substitute brother, and realized that he was staring to make sure she was who he thought she was.

"Summer?" Alipang asked, sounding almost bewildered.

All at once, the girl pal from Smoky Lake, who had been important in Alipang's life despite having no romantic involvement, was weeping uncontrollably. She wept because Alipang's face had unwittingly declared how suffering had marked her appearance; wept because her family had missed out on years in which they should have been enjoying frequent socializing with the Havens family; and wept because her parents had not lived to witness this reunion with mortal eyes.

Alipang crossed the last bit of space, and gathered her into his mighty embrace. The rest of her sobbing was done on his brotherly shoulder, as she clung to him with one maimed hand and one intact hand. She kissed Alipang once on the cheek, and he kissed her twice on the forehead. As the reunited friends held each other close, Michael Rand came up with Anne-Marie, Grace and Grant.

Meanwhile, Kim had approached Evan, holding out her one arm that was not holding her baby. "I expect I'm allowed to hug you, too." Once Evan was hugging her, she whispered in his ear: "Don't worry, Al never cries out her name in his sleep."

"Nor she his," Evan replied. "I'm not worried. Far from it, I'm delighted you're here. Getting back together with Al will do Summer nothing but good. One thing: when Summer starts admiring your baby, remember that the prison system sterilized her. She'll never have another baby; even though we love the four we have, that cutoff rankles in one corner of her soul."

"I understand," said Kim. "Hopefully, catching up on old times with Al will give her enough happy stuff to think about, that seeing a baby won't depress her."

And Kim proved to be correct about this.

 
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Simply clinging to Alipang was enough to satisfy Summer for the length of time it took for Kim to be introduced to all four of the Rand children (of whom the elder two did have some recollection of her), and for these children and their father -- along with several random bystanders -- to be introduced to Baby Peggy. Also for the time it took for Evan to ask those bystanders to make sure that Felicia Robles and the staff knew that a dentist had just become available. Also for the time it took for Kim to ask Evan to relate the story of Reagan Desmond's miraculous healing back in Georgetown, about which Kim and Alipang had heard only a condensed account from Dan and Chilena. Not until Evan was finished with this story did Summer unwind her arms from around Alipang's torso, raise her hands to hold his face, pull him to her for a light kiss on the lips, and then step clear of him.

Seeing Summer turn toward her, Kim instantly judged that it was better to make a good-humored acknowledgement of the other woman's demonstrative affection to Alipang, than to say nothing and perhaps cause her to fear that Kim was holding in a jealous annoyance. Thus Kim, leaving Peggy in the arms of Anne-Marie Rand, said, "Glitches, Summer, it's a shame you don't like Al anymore!" Then she stepped up and had her own hug with Summer.

Not letting this embrace end quickly either, Summer whispered in Kim's ear, "I hated to stand back and have him SEE me like this. I look like death warmed over."

Kim put Summer at arm's length and declared: "No, you look like life, enduring the storms."

"And the climate's better here than in Leavenworth or Joliet," Evan affirmed. "We're even allowed to have prayer meetings and Bible studies, and not only on Thursdays!"

"Although the only Bibles we have here are some of the officially condensed ones," added Summer. "So we're always having to explain to the other folks what was in the missing parts."

They managed a few more minutes' worth of small talk before Sarah Highbranch hurried up to them. "Doctor Havens, is that you? God knows you came at a good time; we have no fewer than six patients with serious dental problems. You did bring equipment along, didn't you?"

"Yes, I did. Kim, you go ahead and continue the reunion with Summer and Evan; I can take care of triage myself."

Summer grasped his arm for a moment -- purposely using her maimed hand. "I may look a mess, Al, but you and Kim, and your new baby, look like a piece of Heaven to me."

He patted her hand on its remaining fingers. "I agree with what Kim said about the way you look. We'll talk more later."

As he accompanied Sarah to the building which Dr. Robles had claimed for medical purposes, Alipang asked, "How did you determine who has dental problems? Did the police who brought them here hand over dental records on them?"

"Nope, no dental records; indeed, no health records of ANY kind, except in a few cases where the person had a really severe ailment. The ones we know of, told us about it themselves."

"And of the ones who told you they had tooth trouble, were any of them subjects of that passivity programming?"

Sarah halted in her tracks. "I hadn't thought about that connection! The ones who told us they had dental problems, as far as I know, were ones who DIDN'T have that reprogramming."

"I was afraid you'd say that," Alipang told her. "Judging by the one clockwork orange with whom I've had substantial contact, the conditioning makes them afraid to complain about anything. Is it possible to assemble all the programmed people, so I can ASK them if they need dental care? I'll bet my number of patients will triple once those folks are given permission to SAY that they need help."

"We'll get them rounded up for you, just before they eat," said the Cheyenne woman. "Then you'll have a chance to eat with us, before you start giving examinations." And soon there was an assembly, to which Alipang issued the invitation to reveal any dental needs, promising that no one would be punished for telling him their situation.

Alipang's guess had been optimistic. His number of patients was soon quadrupled.
 
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Anne-Marie Rand volunteered, before she herself ate, to run to the quarters that had been set aside for Alipang and Kim; from there she fetched Alipang's equipment back to the dining hall, so that the about-to-be-swamped dentist would have it ready to pick up. Thanking the girl was almost the only thing Alipang said at the table; he was devouring his lunch like an old-time Army bootcamp recruit with only five minutes allotted to eat.

While he was gobbling, Kim told Summer and Evan: "Even with the latest crisis all over with, it's an eventful summer for us. You remember Ransom Kramer? His sixteenth birthday is coming up; we and his mother will give him his last pre-Amish birthday party, at which we'll see to it that he gets photographed for the last time. Soon after that, he'll be baptized into the Amish faith. We expect this to be followed shortly by an announcement of his engagement to Lydia Reinhart, though of course they won't actually get married until they're a bit older. Al and I will be celebrating our fifteenth anniversary. And any day now, Sectors of the Heart will begin to have showings inside the Enclave."

"I realize that you got to see some of the shooting on that movie," said Summer. "Is it something we'd be able to watch without throwing up? --You understand that I mean in the context of the message, not of Dan and Chilena's performances."

Alipang, with a mouthful of biscuit and gravy, did nod at this, but left it still to his wife to reply: "Of course. And yes, you should be able to watch it without reverse digestive peristalsis. Business corporations come in for the standard bashing, but _Christians_ are not shown as villains. In fact, _female_ Christians are even allowed to be smart and brave."

Evan looked at Alipang while saying, "Well, we mustn't expect too much. After all, who ever heard of a _male_ Christian being smart and brave?"

The smart and brave male Christian whom Evan was complimenting by implication, managed to smile in Evan's direction while cramming in some turnip greens. As Kim spoke further about the recently-made movie, Alipang finished eating, patted her shoulder, grabbed his dental kit, and sought out Sarah so she could lead him to the room being set up to be his temporary dental office. "I'll need someone with paper and a pencil," he told the nurse, "who can write down my dental-triage comments. The next dentist who will see all these mouths deserves to have _some_ kind of prior data to go by."

"It's your lucky day, Dr. Havens: we found some notepaper tablets in a cabinet last week, decades old but still usable. I'll ask Sister Arabella to write your information down for you; she still can't get around very well, but she'll be glad to be useful this way."

"Thanks. Do you know if anything's been done to enable the newcomers generally to take care of their own teeth?"

"No one thought to supply us with toothbrushes for them when we started the intake process, let alone those modern evaporating mouth-cleaner capsules. But Miss Brooks hit on the idea of supplying them with salt water as an oral rinse, and Miss Weckerling dug up some fishing line that could be cut into half-meter lengths for use as dental floss."

Alipang nodded. "That's better than nothing; and it's nice to know that those ex-Pinkshirt ladies can do _something_ constructive."

"They do their jobs very well here," Sarah assured him. "If they hadn't proven themselves valuable in the time since they transferred out of the Campaign Against Hate, I expect the triumvirate would have counted them still as Indoctrination workers, and thus expelled them from the Enclave."

At this point, they arrived where they were going -- to see inmates of the processing center starting to form a waiting line. Sarah went to summon Sister Arabella, and Alipang began introducing himself to his new patients.

 
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Chapter 114: Thugs of a Feather

At the presidential palace in Los Angeles, Aztlano President Emilio Formentera enjoyed a last few kisses and caresses with the woman who had shared his bed overnight, then told her, "You just relax now; Conchita will bring your breakfast, and then you can replay the conference on the monitor. We'll talk later."

Once he had shaved, showered and dressed, El Presidente emerged from the private suite, to find his sister Lupita waiting to see him, along with his six-year-old daughter Sadida, who was named after Emilio's and Lupita's deceased mother. "Well, Sadida, did you have a good time with Tia Lupita last night?"

"Yes, Papa," the child replied, running to her father's embrace. "She showed me all the kill spots for knife work."

"She's going to be a natural," remarked Lupita -- whose own interest in killing skills had increased since she had come close to being murdered by the late and unlamented Cho Kwok-Shu.

Emilio kissed his daughter. "Excellent! Now, your aunt is going to be busy with me this morning, so Mandy will be with you." Where the servant Conchita was a paid employee, Mandy, an African-American who had been unable to get out of California before the Aztec Maoists took over, was an obedience-programmed slave.

One of the two bodyguards who had been on duty at the door of the suite now escorted little Sadida to Mandy's custody, while the other man accompanied Emilio and Lupita to the secure conference room where their important guest waited.

As a sign of trust in his guest, Emilio brought no guards of his own into the room -- unless one counted Vinu Dandekar, who was already there. Vinu had risen very high in Emilio's favor when he had saved Lupita's life in Hawaii just after Tonio Formentera's downfall; the India-born gunman had not after all chosen to take on the complications of being Lupita's lover, but both siblings thought highly of him (and approved of his having a relationship with Conchita instead). Vinu now sat at the table beside the special guest, who had three bodyguards standing behind his chair.

Mr. Swapnil Vamsa of Mumbai now rose to shake hands with Emilio and Lupita. He had been one of the Indian mafia guests aboard Emilio's yacht on the day when Sunki Pavatea fell over the side with Morton Tannenburg and appeared to have drowned. "It's great to be back," he told his host and hostess, "especially now that I don't have to share time and space with Triad men."

Knowing that Swapnil knew about her narrow escape from being murdered, Lupita told him, "I certainly don't miss the Chinese mob."

"Shall we get to business?" asked Emilio. "You know that I'll have plenty of entertainment for you afterwards."

"Indeed." As Swapnil sat down, Vinu made things a little easier for him by starting the least happy of the Indian gangster's disclosures:

"Jefe, I'm afraid that Senor Vamsa's people have been unable to get any Indian satellite use for your purposes. The Indian government has too tight a lid on. Ever since the Pacific Federation helped them to uncover your father's weapon-smuggling operation, they've been more alert about everything."

"Not your fault," Emilio assured Swapnil. "When Beijing cut off all of our access to _their_ satellites, they also put out the word that they would rather not see anyone _else_ providing us that service. It'll be a long time before China forgives us for having worked with the Triads, I'm afraid."

"But I have something to offer in compensation," said the Rajput Racketeer. "There's a government which _already_ has China annoyed with it, and which therefore feels it has nothing to lose by spiting the Chinese. I refer to the Egyptian Caliphate."

Lupita raised a graceful eyebrow. "Do they have any surviving orbital assets? Since their attempt to take over the Lunar Orchard was unmasked, we hear that all of their satellites have been 'accidentally' destroyed in orbit."

"True. But they still have plenty of aircraft-mounted reconnaissance equipment; and commercial aircraft of theirs are often in Canadian airspace, occasionally in D.S. airspace too. I believe we can persuade the Egyptians to work with us. After all, they hate both the Chinese and Indian governments, and they have no quarrel with Aztlan.

"In addition... I can offer a valuable asset for intelligence ON THE GROUND."

"You mean, on Diversity States ground?" asked Emilio.

"That's right. You may have heard that the Anti-Gravity Development Corporation of New Delhi has just cut a deal with the Atkinson administration, to use the Yellowstone project as a testing ground for their newest apparatus. What you _haven't_ heard is that five employees of Anti-Gravity Development are members of MY association. They can obtain substantial information about conditions inside the Western Enclave."

"Especially the status of the geothermal project, of course," offered Vinu.

"That sounds promising," said Emilio. "How soon will the Indian technicians be in the Enclave?"

"No later than mid-July."

Emilio smiled. "We may do just fine without satellites, after all. I'll tell you something now. My people have gotten their hands on eight of the mini- and micro-drones that the Triads had stolen from the Chinese intelligence service. By themselves, they would be a highly useful means of gathering information; but when they're combined with what you can provide, I think we'll be able to proceed with our plans on an accelerated schedule."

 
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Up in Heaven, a junior-ranked guardian angel visited Wilson Kramer's mansion, bringing along a visitor -- one who had been a young woman when she died by violence on Earth. The God-given intuition of dwellers in Heaven made the former Navy SEAL aware that he had company, so he materialized at the door to welcome them.

"Hello, Eliadon. Glory to God, I sense that this woman was... a _clone_ on Earth!"

The angel nodded. "Yes; still a rare phenomenon. All the same, a human soul. Since you used to be involved with secrets, and you still like to keep track of events below, I knew you'd find her interesting to talk to. See you later."

Eliadon was laughing as he flew off -- not with malice toward anyone, since that sort of laughter does not exist in Heaven. He was laughing because of his own use of the word "later." Or more accurately, he was laughing because it brought to his mind the way mystically-inclined mortal Christians talked about eternity. Those dear humans, bless them, thought they wouldn't be "spiritual enough" unless they spoke of Heaven in terms of an "eternal Now" which excluded _any_ concept of passage of time. As if there could even be any _events_ if a cause could not _precede_ an effect! God Himself was the First _Cause,_ after all, having existed _before_ anything else, and that "before" had a meaning.

"Have a seat," Wilson invited the woman. She sat directly on the Heavenly air inside the mansion, saying, "I love being able to do this! Now, Eliadon told me that your mortal name was Wilson Kramer; mine was Prime Decoy."

"A clone and a decoy; but now you have your white stone." Wilson was referring to the white stones with new names that were given to new arrivals in Heaven. Now he peered at her more closely; and since there was no such thing as a wrong motive among the saints, she was not bothered by his scrutiny. Then he spoke again: "Oh! Now I realize--! But that's remarkable. Please, tell me more about it!"

She smiled more brightly than before. "I've only now gotten around to giving any thought to my past; I've been meeting the Holy Trinity, and the chief worship-spirits who surround the throne. My introduction to God was astonishingly sudden. I was wounded, I was dying; then everything slowed down, and the Holy Spirit Himself was there. He opened my eyes, _made_ me understand the Godhead; He explained that since those who used me had kept me in such ignorance, I was being given the chance now, before I died, to receive my Creator's love by faith."

Wilson smiled back. "Which you obviously did, since you're here."

"Indeed. You know how it is meeting God; I had so much to take in, I couldn't spare any thought for my ended Earthly life until I had absorbed a fair understanding of Heavenly things. But now I am ready to tell you about my mortal experience.

"My childhood, if you can call it that, took place inside an institution that I was never allowed to leave until I was nearly an adult. I was shown _some_ kindness, between times of instruction and conditioning; but at the same time, I was taught to believe that something called 'family' was the greatest of evils. I had to give my loyalty to 'the collective' instead.

"No one explained it to me while I was little, but I was being subjected to early-maturation processes. This was being done so that, when I began my service, I would appear to be the same age as my original. From the day I emerged from incubation, it took only thirteen years for me to reach the right biological age. My original visited me frequently during all of this growing time; she was always affectionate to me, saying that since the essence of life is self-love, I as her duplicate was extra-special to her. It was left to the behavioral scientists to do the harsher part, teaching me that it would be horrid and wicked of me _not_ to show devotion and obedience to my original, since she was my true self. As soon as she became the acknowledged public leader of the movement, I assumed my duties as her double."

"Of course!" exclaimed Wilson. "I haven't bothered watching her closely since I've been up here; my eyes have been on those I love on Earth. But it makes sense for her to have used a substitute at times; even if there were no danger at all of assassination, it could be convenient for her to have you taking her place at some function, while she sneaked away to do something else."

"Something else, is right," said Prime Decoy, in a voice as near to sad as could occur in Heaven. "As I now know, one of the things she did while I was posing as her... was to _murder_ people for fun. For fun!"

Wilson shot a divine-love beam out of his eyes at her, to add to her peace. "The sons shall not die for the sins of the fathers, the Lord told Ezekiel. Neither shall the clone be blamed for the sins of the bio-template."

She shot her own rays of joy back at him, and continued: "My original was distressed --though not in the sense of conscience, for she had no conscience -- when she found out that some people _knew_ that she had committed these crimes. The degenerate political atmosphere had allowed her to get away with causing tens of thousands of deaths like _your_ death, Lieutenant Kramer; but it would still be an embarrassment for her to have it known that she had grinned with glee while _wielding_ a knife with her own hands to cut out the hearts of defenseless victims. Between this and other considerations, such as realizing that the Texans were growing stronger at the expense of her power, she decided it was time for her to disappear until she had a new power base."

"But you didn't realize all of this at the time."

"No, I didn't. She simply told me that she needed me to fill in for her during some of the Presidium deliberations concerning the dismantling of the Indoctrination Department. I certainly didn't know that she had previously seduced one of Carlos Anselmo's bodyguards, and arranged for him to shoot me, while another of her lover-puppets was a district policeman assigned to make sure Anselmo died in the ensuing gunfight." Here the clone laughed. "Enjoying fleshly pleasures with men was one area in which my original _never_ allowed me to substitute for her!"

Wilson shook his head. "What a scheme! And now that my mind's on it, intuition confirms for me that Jessica Trevette, Jesus rebuke her, is still alive! You haven't done any Earth-gazing since you arrived here, have you?"

"No, I haven't. Being a tool for an evildoer's use all of my mortal days leaves me with rather less to look back on fondly than you have."

"Understood. But give it a try now; let's see where Jessica Trevette is."

Together, they extended their perception across the boundary between Heaven and Cosmos... and in what had once been the state of California, they discovered the real Jessica Trevette.

She was eating breakfast in the presidential palace of Emilio Formentera.

"Well, she is not my true self," declared the clone. "But I will pray for her salvation."

"Amen," said Wilson, clasping her hand. "And if she does get saved, then when she arrives up here, she will confess that you deserve to be called the _real_ original."

 
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Not long after the original Jessica Trevette, by Emilio Formentera's invitation, had spied on Aztlan's new President meeting with Swapnil Vamsa, two other men who were considerably more on the side of good met in a spy-proof room in Buenos Aires. Personal meetings in secure spaces had the great merit of NOT exposing communications to electronic intercept. And as an agent for the government of Argentina, a member state of the Mexican Alliance, researcher Santiago Sanchez was mightily interested in what he could learn from Vibol Ritisak, the Cambodian-American man who was the Diversity States Ambassador to the Western Hemisphere Union.

Santiago knew that Vibol was in the habit of never setting foot on Diversity States soil if he could avoid it -- since anytime he returned home, there was the risk that the female-dominated State Department would change its mind about letting a mere male hold so important a diplomatic post. The Fairness Party would never have accredited him for it in the first place if he had been a white man. But since he was always in the thick of diplomatic interactions, Vibol was always picking up hints of interesting events; and the Fairness Party had never given him so much cause to love it that he could not be persuaded to tell some things to friends like Santiago _before_ telling them to his own govenment.

Santiago and other Mexican Alliance operatives had helped Vibol to sneak into Argentina today unsuspected by the D.S. government, while his aide Vonetta Ashford covered for him at his office in Caracas. Now Santiago beheld a particularly agitated look on his Asian friend's face.

"All safeguards are active. What have you got for me today, Vibol?"

"Plenty. By my personal encounters, and by means of my informants, I've picked up clues to events affecting Europe AND Asia AND Africa AND the Americas AND the Pacific Basin."

"Whew, an embarrassment of riches. Let's begin with the Americas."

"All right. You know that one of my clerks goes periodically to Bolivia to pleasure himself with one of their fertility-goddess priestesses." (Bolivia had become the principal home of neo-paganism in the Venezuelan Alliance.) "When he was last with her, she spoke to him about another of her clients who held a media job for the Venezuelan government. That man told her that Caracas would soon start raising indignant cries about the death of Carlos Anselmo, claiming to have discovered that it was a planned assassination motivated by bigotry against Hispanics."

"That's a corroboration. One of my own agents caught a rumor that President Formentera, the new one, was planning to make similar allegations on the Libertad de Aztlan network. As if there would never have been any trouble between Aztlan and the D.S.A. if Anselmo had been in charge at the Rainbow House instead of the 'white supremacist' Jessica Trevette. Easy to condemn Trevette, of course, now that she's dead and can't defend herself."

(Neither Santiago nor Vibol had access to the information that Wilson Kramer had learned up in Heaven, so they had no way of knowing that Jessica Trevette was not yet in Hell.)

"Such an accusation," Vibol continued, "would provide the Venezuelan Alliance with an excuse for some saber-rattling, _without_ provoking China or other major powers, since any military demonstrations Caracas orders would _seem_ to be only aimed at the usual punching bag. Yet force movements under this pretext might still serve as preparation for some kind of aggression against, say, Canada or Alchatka. Of course I have data nanobots to give you for the details; they'll transfer to you through a good handshake when we're done talking."

"Good. What about the Pacific Federation?"

"A Brazilian lady I see now and then has heard a rumor that, in eagerness to mollify China after Hawaii's former High Chietain was found to be working with both Venezuela and the Triads, the new High Chieftain has thrown his support openly to those Hawaiian citizens who think that Hawaii should pull out of the Hemispheric Union and join the Pacific Federation instead."

Santiago grinned. "That should brighten Bert Randall's day when he hears about it -- if, indeed, he hasn't already heard about it through his own informants."

"For sure. But of course, the biggest news is related to Greater China, as most big news is anymore."

"I suppose you mean the ongoing repercussions of the attempts that were made to capture the Lunar Orchard. I'll bet when Beijing founded its Moon colony, they never guessed it would become such an appealing target for covert ops."

"Yeah. Anyway, the Triads are sufficiently smashed by now, and Aztlan sufficiently reminded of its place on the food chain, that China's attention is mostly on the Egyptian and Babylonian Caliphates."

Santiago nodded. "They won't soon forget the massive damages that the United Nations forced them to pay to China."

"No, they won't," Vibol agreed. "And like the Venezuelan Alliance, those two Caliphates are looking for easier prey than China, in the hopes of restoring their fortunes."

"Does that bring us to the African Union? --because I already know that _someone's_ lately begun supplying the Neo-Marxists in Africa with improved armaments."

"Both someones, that is both the Egyptian and Babylonian Caliphates. My evidence is that they've speculatively divided all of Africa south of Sudan between them, intending to eliminate the Neo-Marxists as soon as those guerrillas help them bring down the legitimate governments."

"Of course, they would have to move slowly."

"One more thing. Since practically every kind of information on Earth passes through Greater China at some point, one tidbit came to my own colleague, Benito Salazar."

"Salazar? Isn't he running the American consulate in Tibet now?"

"He is. But with so few actual Tibetans remaining, you can meet ethnic Han Chinese as easily there as in Hunan or Guangdong. Benito was at a party with a drunken Chinese cargo-shipping executive, and that man talked about some business he had done IN the Diversity States, something which neither Benito nor I ever heard about otherwise. It would seem a small transaction: buying a quantity of recycled aluminum from Aero-Aquatics, metal reclaimed at the recycling plant inside the Western Enclave."

"Yes, that _would_ seem small," said Santiago. "What makes it big?"

"The fact that, according to the Chinese businessman, the whole shipment of aluminum was formed into slugs of just the right size for _small_ railguns. Not railguns of the caliber that the Triads were hoping to set up in Aztlan and Hawaii; the rounds were only barely larger than a man-portable rail-rifle would use. But that would be perfectly adequate ammunition for a more modest campaign of aggression. Unfortunately, Benito wasn't in a position to verify anything the man said, nor even to be sure what company he was with; and those pieces of aluminum still _could_ be meant for other uses."

"But it needs to be followed up. If it's railgun ammunition, there are _several_ theaters of action where it might be put to use."

Vibol and Santiago could both imagine alternatives, but fresh violence in African nations appeared most immediately likely. One person to whom Santiago intended to give the new information for investigation was Major Helmut Karlen, who would be visiting him soon on behalf of that nameless army of justice which received much of its support from Nigeria and Uganda.
 
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If Winnie Drucker was in fact using her facility's recycled-aluminum output to produce railgun ammunition, the rank-and-file workers at "Earth's Treasures" were not in a position to know it.

One thing that Harmony Havens and her brother Terrance did know was that the general workload at their Nebraska Sector workplace was increasing, and for more than one kind of material. Several of the new exiles processed at Saint Labre had been transferred to the plant, to work mainly on plastic reclamation for various uses in the geothermal-plant buildings. Some of these were able to report having received dental care from Alipang Havens, which gave Alipang's younger siblings something to chat about with Ingrid Plesser and Frodo Von Spock. But with the heightened productivity demands, it would be many days now before they could actually visit other family members again. Consequently, Harmony and Terrance passed as much of their free time with each other as was reasonably possible.

At lunch break on the first Monday in July of 2026, Harmony came into her brother's view brandishing a letter which a Grange rider had brought to her. "It's from Dad!" she exclaimed.

Seeing that the envelope was not yet opened, Terrance told her, "I'm halfway done eating. You get started on your food, and I'll read this out to you."

Harmony accepted the suggestion, and tucked into her venison stew as Terrance read the letter to her. Their father had five things to report: that their mother was in good health, that Miguel De Soto was recovering strength marvellously, that Alipang was going to spend a few days at the actual geothermal-project site, that movie director Isadora Cruller had the okay to start making the sequel to Sectors of the Heart, and that the former Daffodil Ford was going to stage a new concert on Bastille Day.

" 'I suspect that David would have liked to do it on July Fourth, if only to please his father and Brendan; but of course the French Revolution enjoys more official popularity nowadays. And it does give his musicians a bit more time to rehearse. Mom will write the next letter. Love to you both, Dad.' Doesn't look as if either of us will be free to attend that concert." Terrance was looking at his sister more pointedly than he himself was aware of doing; but Harmony noticed.

"Since you're obviously thinking about how much I'm thinking about Daffy, let me inform you that I actually _dreamed_ about him last night. But don't get excited."

"Am I allowed to be curious?"

"Yes, but you won't need to be curious for long. It was anything but mushy. I dreamed I was in some kind of rocky, craggy place, where there were lots of gaps I needed to step over carefully. And I was _carrying_ Daffy under my arm, as if he weighed hardly anything. Only, he was rigid as a plank. So I would set him down as a bridge over each space I had to cross, then pick him up again to use again at the next crevice or whatever. And he never said a word the whole time."

Terrance assumed a more thoughtful expression. "So, are you going to offer your own interpretation for this dream?" As soon as he had asked this question, he hastened to eat the remainder of his own lunch while she answered.

"My best guess, anyway," said Harmony. "I think this dream is telling me that by encouraging Daffy's feelings _even_ a little bit, I've really been selfishly _using_ him. Using him as a device to support my own self-confidence. Knowing that our age difference, plus his gentle nature, would protect me from harassment on his part, I've been basking in his admiration -- enjoying the feeling that _somebody_ male finds me desirable. But looking myself in the eye now, I _don't_ believe that I ever had any intention of marrying him _even_ if I were still single at such a time as he was old enough to get married."

Terrance kept eating, so Harmony was left to speak further: "I wish I had understood this sooner. I hate to hurt him; he deserves better than to be treated with condescension, let alone be led on in an infatuation. Maybe it's a mercy from God that I _won't_ be free to see him again anytime soon."

Terrance took his last swallow of food and his final swig of herbal tea, then replied, "Another mercy is that he's found his father. That happiness ought to blunt the pain of his not having you as his own."

"I sure hope so. The last thing I ever set out to be in life was a heartbreaker."

 
Five days after Alipang Havens with his wife and their newest child had arrived on the Northern Cheyenne Reservation, the time came for the two physicians assigned full-time to the growing Yellowstone labor force to trade places. Gastroenterologist Onita Paniagua had finished treating digestive ailments among workers at the construction site, and would be resuming the intake-center physician job. Nephrologist Felicia Robles was accordingly to be flown to the volcanic caldera zone, to render general medical services -- despite it still being true that the whole Enclave had no other doctor in her specialty for exiles. While a light airplane belonging to the Energy Department carried Dr. Paniagua east to the St. Labre School, Cassie Magruder with her airship turned out to be the first handy transportation to take Dr. Robles west to the former Yellowstone National Park.

Forest Ranger Demophilos, overseeing law and order in the project area, made a last-minute call to St. Labre, asking that Alipang come along with Dr. Robles, because a woman at the current job site had suffered injury to her teeth in a quirky, unforeseeable accident. Kostas didn't elaborate; but Alipang had just managed to work his way through all the serious dental cases among the subjects of in-processing, so he could be spared from St. Labre. Since the infirmary at the construction camp was supplied with anaesthetics, Kim would not be needed for acupunctural pain-blockage, and so Kim and Baby Peggy could be allowed to continue their visit with the Rand family.

Hopping the flight with Cassie, Alipang asked whether she knew anything more about the dental emergency than what the Greek-American Forest Ranger had said. She replied, "All I can add is that the victim was observing a secondary building job, not close to any of the volcanic vents. A sonic blaster was being used to break up some rock in a hillside, and a piece of rock went flying and hit the observer in the face."

Hearing this exchange, Felicia Robles remarked, "I thought those sonic blasters were supposed to break up rock layers in a more controlled way than explosives."

Cassie shrugged. "Probably there was an undetected weak spot in the rock they were blasting, causing that particular spot to break up more violently than expected."

When they landed at the construction zone -- from which Dr. Paniagua had already departed by now -- Alipang soon learned from Kostas that Cassie's guess about the cause of injury had been correct. "The infirmary's this way. One of my Commerce Inspectors, who is paramedic-trained, is with the patient, and has already administered a local anaesthetic." Felicia, trusting Alipang to handle this with no need of help from her, went to the construction office, where she could review records of her colleague's ministrations to the workers here.

Just short of entering the room where his patient waited, Alipang asked Kostas, "Just what kind of 'observing' was this person doing?"

A grin broke out on the older man's face. "I see you _haven't_ heard. You're going to love this. One of the top reporters for the old Oneness Channel, as part of the big media shakeup since the Indoctrination Department closed shop, was transferred to the Enclave to do government-approved reports on the geothermal project."

"Someone more important than Dynamo Earthquake?"

"Not more important; but of special interest to you." Kostas' face grew impish. "See if you recognize her. I'll give you a hint: she looks a lot older in person than in a revised holograph image."

They entered the room, where a female Commerce Inspector stood over a middle-aged woman who reclined in an examination chair. The patient's face was not familiar to Alipang at the first glance; but he was not put to the test of closer visual study, for the young uniformed woman supplied the answer by speaking to the patient:

"Here we go, Citizen Gardner, the dentist is here now."

Alipang glanced at Kostas, who seemed to be holding back a storm of laughter. So, Kostas must have already known how propaganda-journalist Rhoda Gardner, back in Virginia, had persecuted Alipang's father with spitefully-fabricated accusations of racism. And now this professional slander artist was about to be on the receiving end of dental instruments wielded by the son of her former target.

Being human, Alipang did experience a flickering temptation to identify himself pointedly, so he could see and relish the sudden fear in Rhoda Gardner's eyes. But that would be an unprofessional thing to do.

So he simply got to work assessing the damage to the woman's teeth.
 
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"None of you youngsters has had the chance to get to know the ocean as we Hawaiians know it," said Ralph Kono; "but you're at a good place to start. This rocky point is called Ke'alaikahiki. My ancient ancestors used it as a place to teach their children to navigate by the stars, because you get a great view of the sky from here, with important guides like what you call the Southern Cross. We call it Hānaiakamalama. This was also the traditional starting place for voyages to Tahiti."

The tourist guide who had once shared a hair-raising adventure with Yang Sung-Kuo and Bert Randall was now addressing Bert's adopted children Meretseger and Montu, along with their cousin Colin Kerang. Not far off were Colin's parents: Native Australian Prentice Kerang and his wife, Bert's sister Emma. Emma was carrying her baby nephew, Allen Randall. The group was exploring the island of Kaho'olawe, smallest of Hawaii's major islands, which had no permanent human inhabitants. Bert and Ma'at, trusting Ralph and the Kerangs to keep the children safe, were over on Maui right now. Bert was meeting with officials of the new Hawaiian government, facilitating Hawaii's probable change of affiliation; and Ma'at, under the protection of certain Hawaiian plainclothes policemen whose friendship the rugged Australian had cultivated for years, was shopping. (She was still getting used to the idea that she had a husband who had plenty of money, AND who didn't mind letting her spend a good share of it.)

When Ralph had finished summarizing the historical glories of this location, and rhapsodizing over the joys of open-ocean boating, Colin spoke up: "I've taken Monty and Rita canoeing a few times, back in Australia. They did pretty well." It was Colin who had finally come up with "Rita" as a Western-type nickname which could be remotely thought of as derived from his girl cousin's Egyptian name.

"But I don't think Mom will let us try an ocean canoe anytime soon," remarked Meretseger.

"Well, Aunt Ma'at wasn't scared to let us all be on this island," said Colin; "and wasn't it a U.S. Navy bombing range in the past, covered with unexploded bombs?"

"Yes, but the last of that ordnance is gone by now," Ralph told him, "thanks to advances in sonic probing. Believe me, if there were still ANY hazard of our stepping on an old bomb, Mr. Randall would never have left you here to play while he performed his mission."

"Okay, since we won't get blown up, let's go look at some of those hibiscus bushes my sister wanted to see," suggested Montu.

The day continued to pass pleasantly, and without mishap. They ate their picnic lunch near the giant rain-collection tank which ensured a fresh-water supply for the plant life of Kaho'olawe, and later had a look at the desalinization plant which provided drinking water for people visiting the island. In the late afternoon, Ralph's dataphone -- the latest model, a gift to him from Bert -- received a message that the hovercraft which had brought them to Kaho'olawe was coming to fetch them, with Bert and Ma'at on board, a little earlier than expected.

When the tourist party met the hovercraft at its landing ramp, Meretseger and Montu greeted their birth mother and adoptive father with as much tender affection as usual, and received as much in return. Only Bert's sister picked up hints that Bert had something distressing on his mind. What the scholar-adventurer spoke about openly was the excellent progress being made toward incorporating Hawaii in the Pacific Federation; this was of course good news, and Emma resigned herself to her brother not being at liberty to discuss whatever it was that he was less happy about.

Even Ma'at was unaware of the encrypted message which had come to Bert's own dataphone.

This message had informed Bert of a resurgence in guerrilla activity by the Neo-Marxists in Africa. Even with advance intelligence of the Egyptian and Babylonian Caliphates intending to support such aggression, it had still been surprising that they got things in motion so rapidly.

An attack had been made on the New Vatican in Nigeria, using lasers and compact missiles. Among the dead were sixteen civilians... and three persons connected with the secret army of liberty: Father Dunak Okigbo, former police detective Todd Carpenter, and former banker Etienne LaClede.

As Bert Randall beheld with grateful eyes that his loved ones were all safe, he remembered the day when he, Ralph, and Yang Sung-Kuo had defended themselves against would-be assassins. Those tribal-fanatic types had had no link to Africa's Neo-Marxists; but murderous thugs were murderous thugs wherever you went.
 
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Chapter 115: Josiah Waxes Philosophical

With Alipang having the dental work in hand at the geothermal construction site, Kostas Demophilos decided he could squeeze himself in for a dental checkup. An old trailer had been allotted for Alipang's use, reminding him of his own setup in Sussex. Once Kostas was inside for his appointment and the door was closed, he said to Alipang, "According to my best information, they're NOT listening in on you here; someone finally decided you're not a menacing seditionist." The Forest Ranger sat down in the examination chair. "Which leads nicely into something you'll be pleased to hear: something I picked up from the police grapevine."

Alipang placed his light above Kostas' face. "And what would that be?"

"It's about your very dear friend, Rhoda Gardner. After you treated her mouth injuries the other day, she began bragging that you had _wanted_ to hurt her while you had her in this chair, but her magnificent force of personality intimidated you into just doing your job right."

Alipang smiled sourly, realizing that Kostas knew Ms. Gardner was a shameless liar. "No good deed goes unpunished."

"Wait, it gets better. She made this boast to the Energy Undersecretary, and -- I don't know the verbatim words, but I'm told that Energy chewed her out to the bone marrow! Told her _never_ to make up slanders against you again, and even _specified_ that she knew Gardner's past accusations against your Dad's clinic in Virginia were fake!"

The Filipino's swarthy face brightened. "Well, how about that? The Indoctrination Department must have _really_ been well crushed, for even a sympathetic bureaucrat to be _able_ to say that much now in my family's favor. Dad and Mom will be tickled to hear about this!" On this happier note, he commenced the dental examination.

He had administered one of the evaporating mouth-cleanser capsules, which had been furnished for his use here, and was flossing Kostas' teeth for good measure, when the sound of a descending helicopter was heard outside. Refusing to be distracted from his patient until his work was finished, he found he didn't have to take any trouble to learn what was up. The trailer door opened, and in stepped the tall, handsome Brendan Hyland.

"What's up, jarhead?" said Alipang. "I've still got a few teeth left to floss."

"I wish it were good news," replied Brendan. "But it isn't. The Neo-Marxists have gotten reinforced and re-equipped, and have started hitting the best-governed African countries. They started in Nigeria, in Onitsha."

Alipang's head snapped up. "Did anything happen to your family?"

"No, thank God. But our priest, Father Dunak, was killed by the terrorists -- blown apart by a laser. In Heaven before he knew what had hit him. So I have to get back." Brendan could not let himself say anything to Alipang about the deaths of Todd Carpenter and Etiennne LaClede, since unlike the case of Dunak Okigbo, they were men he knew _only_ through covert operations.

"I'm sorry to hear about Father Dunak. What about Josiah and Professor Siermaala?"

"Josiah will be flying out with me; we'll take the Atmosfleet putt-putt up to Winnepeg, then catch a Canadian hypersonic liner for Africa. But Matti will be staying in America, and for at least some of the time in the Enclave. The Texas Rangers will watch out for his safety, and soon those businessmen from India will be in this country to meet with him."

"Is there anything I can do?" asked Alipang, while finishing with the last few teeth in Kostas' lower jaw.

"Yes, there is, Filipino Fireball: pray hard. Your prayer-gun shoots heavy-caliber ammo."

The very instant he could step away from Kostas, Alipang flung himself at the man who had served in the place of an older brother for him in Smoky Lake. They embraced with feeling, and Alipang gulped, "Go with God, jarhead."

 
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Josiah Redfern, meanwhile, was in Atmosfleet's terminal at the former Ellsworth Air Force Base, finalizing his and Brendan's reservations for the first-stage flight up to Canada. An incoming plane was just now discharging passengers; and among the few persons waiting for someone was an elderly man Josiah had met a few times in Rapid City: Avery Glass, the man chosen to head the dentistry faculty at the exiles' new university. With the aging dentist was a woman whom Josiah assumed to be Avery's daughter Lenore; she looked as if she were simultaneously tired from long activity, and buoyed up by some good news. When he had finished his business at the desk, Josiah walked over to greet them.

"Doctor Glass? And Miss Glass?"

Lenore nodded, reaching out to shake hands with Josiah while still half-watching the door through which travellers were beginning to enter. "Yes. My brother's coming! My brother Larry! They've allowed him entry!"

"What, for the Yellowstone project?" asked Josiah. As far as he knew, all new personnel for that project were coming in through the Northern Cheyenne Reservation.

"No, he's going to have a record-keeping job at the new university!" exclaimed Avery, looking more lively and hopeful than Josiah had yet seen him in their brief acquaintance.

"And what about your son?" asked Lenore, who had heard about Josiah being revealed as the father of David alias Daffodil. "Is he going to go to Uganda with you?"

"Not at this time," sighed the Army veteran. "But seeing _anyone_ else having a family reunion is a good sign for me. Maybe in a--"

He was interrupted by Avery pointing -- and shouting at the top of his lungs for the first time in Josiah's experience. "LARRY!" Out of the incoming crowd emerged a man taller than Brendan but visibly thinner; Avery and Lenore pounced lovingly upon him.

Josiah left them to their moment of joy. His own errand being completed, he caught the light-rail train to the civic center, where David was putting his musicians through a rehearsal for the Bastille Day Stun Jazz Concert. There were several more performers now than the first time, including a man with a set of harmonicas in all different keys. The busy young concert producer had not yet heard the grim news from Africa, the news which was compelling Josiah and Brendan to head for home.

When Josiah entered the auditorium, the ensemble was playing a tune he didn't recognize, but one which made him imagine what the smoke-fogged jazz clubs of the nineteen-fifties must have been like. Featured in this number was an added vocalist: the non-exile girl Omnipotence Cortez, who was the Equalityball coordinator for Nebraska Sector. The sample of her singing that Josiah heard proved that she was being included in the ensemble entirely on the basis of her political connections. He waited for the song, halts and resumptions included, to be finished before he made his presence known.

"Son, by all indications, you and your orchestra are going to outdo yourselves!" He did not add his thought: In spite of being saddled with this no-talent singer.

David beamed at him. "Dad! I'm glad you're here; but you look as if something's wrong."

Josiah drew a long breath. "Something is. It's called the sinful world. The same enemies Brendan Hyland had to fight last year in Nigeria, are attacking the cities there again. Innocent people have died, and not enough _guilty_ ones have died... YET. Brendan has to get back to Nigeria, and I have to get back to Uganda."

David's face fell. "Has Uganda also been attacked?"

"No, but you can bet pesos to centavos that it _will_ be."
 
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"So when will I see you again?" asked David.

"I don't know, because I don't know how much of a workload will be piled onto my hospital because of the new hostilities."

"At least you won't be in the fighting," the boy observed softly.

"It's true that I'm not likely to be." Saying this, Josiah unconsciously laid his hand on the butt of his flechette pistol.

"I know you used to be a soldier. Do you feel now as if being OUT of the fighting makes you a failure somehow?"

"Maybe a little bit like that." He looked at his sidearm. "In the whole time since this weapon was issued to me back in Kampala, I've used it in earnest only once; and that was just to force information out of a thug whom you and Wilson Havens had already defeated."

"You don't actually miss fighting, do you?"

"Not for its own sake. But when an enemy brings the war to us...."

"By all accounts, Dad, you've already done your share in battle. You did it before your sperm was even stolen to make me. Now you're a healer -- on the technological side of it, but still part of the business of healing people. Isn't that what you promised to your friend Pablo the medic?"

"So it is." He patted his gun as if it were an old dog. "We each have a role God gives us to play, and the roles differ at different times in our lives. I'll keep on praying that you find the role He plans for you."

David managed a smile. "And I'll ask Him to let His plan for me include at least a visit with you in Kampala."

Hugging his boy, Josiah said quietly, "You stay in touch with that Doctor Havens while we're apart. I couldn't ask for a better man to act in my place as your wise man and role model."

"Yes, he is a good man. So is his father Eric. What I've seen of _their_ relationship, helped me to understand how good _having_ a father could be, which made it that much happier getting to meet you." The boy squeezed his father hard, then tried not to weep while saying goodbye.

Less than three hours later, Brendan joined Josiah in Rapid City. They said goodbye to Matti Siermaala, and to friends they had made at Sioux San Hospital, particularly Zamoria the helpful nurse. Then it was onto the propellor-driven passenger plane to fly to Winnipeg. Their connecting suborbital flight would land them in Angola, which so far had not been hit by the Neo-Marxists. There the two war veterans would separate: Brendan taking a plane to Nigeria in the expectation of combat, and Josiah flying to Uganda in the expectation of wondering how men younger than himself were doing in combat.
 
Brendan and Josiah were met in Winnipeg by Major Helmut Karlen, from the European branch of the secret army. "During the flight," he told them, "we'll use our secure-speech masks, so I can brief you on the state of events in Africa. Also, I'll provide both of you with blood-refresher capsules, to help your bodies change their sleep-cycles rapidly, so you'll be ready for action as soon as you land at home. It'll be barely dawn for Brendan when he lands in Nigeria, but almost mid-morning for Josiah when he lands in Uganda."

The spaceplane the three men boarded was Canadian; but the Canadian government understood something of the security needs of the beleaguered nation of Poland, in whose forces the German-born Helmut Karlen served. So no one in the hypersonic liner's crew said anything about Helmut, Brendan and Josiah donning the devices that would let them speak to each other in complete secrecy; the masks used a frequency selected not to interfere with any frequency used these days in air travel, besides being extremely low-powered. Once they had made takeoff and were climbing through the stratosphere, Brendan opened the conference with a question:

"I know that we lost Father Dunak, Todd and Etienne. Is there any evidence that they were deliberately targetted?"

Brendan did not mention the Zurich mission in which he and Etienne LaClede had both taken part; that mission was known to Helmut, but did not fall within Josiah's need-to-know. Helmut's answer left the need-to-know boundaries intact:

"Going by the intel we have so far, no, none of your three friends was purposely singled out; they just happened to be in the line of fire. Which means that our enemies possibly still _don't_ know the particulars of those men's careers. What you _weren't_ told in the initial report was that someone _was_ targetted purposely: the Pope." Seeing Brendan stiffen at this, Helmut hastily added: "But his bodyguards saved him; some of _them_ died, but he got away with only minor injuries."

While Brendan was exhaling, Josiah followed up: "Either Neo-Marxists or hardcore Islamists would be happy to kill the Pope. Now, I understand that the Egyptian and Babylonian Caliphates are both supporting the Neo-Marxists, but all the boots on the ground for the enemy side are still the Neo-Marxists themselves. Which leads to the question: do the Neo-Marxists retain target discretion? Would it have been _their_ idea to attack the New Vatican, or would one of the Caliphates have _directed_ them to strike there?"

"Our analysts are _very_ busy on that one," replied Helmut. "But the inclination is to believe that the Neo-Marxists were left to select their own victims, because both Caliphates have other fish to fry at the same time: putting pressure on moderate Muslim nations. The Egyptian Caliphate is supporting local Islamist rebels in Morocco, while the Babylonian Caliphate is doing the same in the Parthian Republic. Both regimes count on Greater China to stay out of the situation, since Chinese interests are not being directly threatened, and the Chinese are still busy making sure they've got the Triads mopped up."

"Are we doing anything to help Morocco and Parthia?" asked Brendan.

"Yes. Yirimyahu Kohen is heading a team of Mossad veterans which will assist the Moroccan government against the terrorists there. And India's Dacoits, in coordination with us, will render similar aid to the Parthians. Just as with their commercial ventures in America, India is grabbing opportunities to enlarge its own importance in ways which don't antagonize Beijing."

"Speaking of nations helping other nations, is China meeting the enemy expectation of their not helping us? I realize that Beijing, even with liberalization, can't be overly enthusiastic about fighting _against_ any kind of Marxists; but they surely know that our Neo-Marxists are now backed by the two Caliphates which recently offended China."

"Funny you should mention that. As I was flying to Canada to meet you, a message reached me that a Chinese delegation came to see Miranda Bhekisisa." Helmut was referring to the Zulu woman who had recently succeeded to the post of Chairperson of the African Union Commission. "All of us will probably hear more about that soon after you two gentlemen arrive in your home countries."

"Is there anything you haven't mentioned yet that affects Uganda?" Josiah demanded.

"The enemy doesn't seem to have started any new ops there so far. But it is a swiftly-developing situation; so both of you men will be made ready for anything you might encounter. At our stop in Angola, both of you will be issued with body armor; updated on your immunization against all known poisons; and provided with hand-thrown versions of the overhead-blast sonic-stunner grenades that police forces use."

"And here I had just gotten resigned to _not_ being any part of the actual fighting."

Helmut patted Josiah's shoulder. "Hopefully, you won't be. Just consider this a gram of prevention. I'm sure Todd, Etienne and Father Dunak are in no hurry to have you join them in Heaven."
 
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Hey, readers, I'm in a quandary. Should Josiah be allowed to fade out of the onstage action and get back to his hospital job, or should I concoct some shoot-'em-up action for him IN UGANDA?

(Note that Josiah was never intended to be a MAIN character.)
 
First of all--THANK YOU for giving Daffy a new name. "David" makes a world of difference.

In response to your question, I'm not sure. Maybe it would be better to keep Josiah's involvement in action more closely tied to what David is doing. Or let us find out about Josiah's involvement in the fighting through David--a letter or something.
 
Didn't see Glenburne's remark in time, so I let Carol decide

When Brendan parted company with Josiah at an Angolan airport, he hitched a ride on a lighter-than-air ship which was bound for Onitsha. A team of Angolan volunteers, doctors and nurses, was making the airship flight in order to help care for Nigerian casualties from the recent Neo-Marxist attack. As it turned out, they made their trip without mishap, and Brendan was soon reunited with Jennifer, John-Paul, Bridget, George, Claire and Virgil. Very soon, he would be resuming his old functions (never officially discontinued) with New Vatican security. In view of the new threat level in Africa, the secret army agreed that Brendan would now be most useful in this theater of operations, guarding what had become his home turf.

As for Josiah, his ride was a passenger jump-jet belonging to the Ugandan Civil Air Authority; it had brought Ugandan officials to Angola for a routine meeting, part of coordinating trans-African air-transport policies. The African Union did have holographic virtual conferencing, but some contacts were still made in person; since member nations were still entirely sovereign, it was considered good form to have personal meetings between officials from different nations -- a human closeness to offset their NOT being excessively tied together governmentally. The Ugandan delegation was now due to return to Entebbe Airport, and already had instructions from Kampala to bring Medical Technologist Redfern with them. The staff at Mulago National Referral Hospital would be mighty glad to have Josiah back. There was time for him to phone home before he took off, telling his wife Melody how his parting with David had gone.

The jump-jet was about halfway across Congo, when authorities of that country passed a warning for Uganda-bound air traffic to detour into Tanzanian airspace. Neo-Marxists had opened a new offensive, a sudden flurry of small but lethal raids on locations along a line between the Congolese cities of Isiro and Bukavu; and at least one raid had featured a sonic-blast weapon, which could be a threat to aircraft. The Ugandan C.A.A. flight accordingly became one of many to change course, placing itself under Tanzanian guidance.

The increased burden on Tanzania's air-traffic controllers created some delay for everyone. It was mid-afternoon before the plane carrying Josiah received its clearance to overfly Lake Nalubaale, also known as Lake Victoria, on approach to Uganda's Entebbe Airport.

Josiah had been able to get word of the delay to Melody, telling her simply to stay home, he would get his own ground transportation for the approximately sixty kilometers from the airport to their house. Now, with the northern shore of the broad lake in sight, he allowed himself to glance casually down at the water on which he and his family had often gone boating.

But at that moment, something other than a family pleasure craft was breaking the surface. The jump-jet was still too high up for Josiah to see details; but he could tell that he was seeing vessels of a type which neither Uganda nor Tanzania normally used in the lake they shared.

Instinct unbuckled his seat belt and shot him toward the cockpit. "Pilot!" he shouted. "Submersible hovercraft surfacing right below us -- possible hostiles!"

The pilot was an Ugandan military veteran, who had been part of past U.N. peacekeeping missions. His own intuition sensed that Josiah's intuition should be heeded. His radar and g.p.s. confirming for him that he had room to maneuver, he skillfully cut in vectored thrust to dodge sideways.

Because he did this, the E.M.R.G. projectile which would have shattered one of his engines, only clipped his left wingtip, leaving the jump-jet still flyable.

As the co-pilot sent out a warning call on all frequencies, the pilot made a snap decision. There was a clear lane of space leading north-by-northeast, which he could safely take if he poured on the speed right now. Neo-Marxists opening fire from the lake were sure to cause a panic among the numerous incoming passenger planes; many would try to crowd in for a landing before they were hit, adding collision danger to the menace posed by railgun fire.

"Back in your seat!" he told Josiah. "Tell the others I'm running for the highway!" The pilot was referring to the major highway which ran from Entebbe up to Kampala; a vertical-landing aircraft could easily touch down on or near that road.

Scrambling back into the passenger compartment, Josiah shouted in one of the languages of Uganda: "Enemies shooting up at us from the lake! Pilot avoiding the airport approach! HANG ON!"

Somewhere ahead of them, not clearly visible from the passenger seats but frightfully audible, a larger passenger plane took one railgun projectile right through the fuel tanks and another through the cockpit. Evading that mid-air explosion, the Ugandan C.A.A. plane dashed for safety... and somehow made it to the highway, landing directly on the pavement about two kilometers north of the airport. No one on board was injured.

"Everyone out!" yelled the pilot. "This is about to become a battlefield!"

 
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:eek: Sounds like things are getting hot...I'll look forward to reading more whenever I next get to a computer.
 
The southern outskirts of Kampala had once been severely crime-ridden; but in Uganda as in other host countries, the influx of law-abiding American emigrants following the Fairness Revolution had provided a strong force for social -- not socialist -- improvement. The area between Entebbe and central Kampala was now a peaceful and flourishing region; but this made it all the more shocking for local citizens to see an airplane making a forced landing beside the highway, while what sounded like a battle was occurring around the airport and the lakeshore.

The civil-aviation officials, conscientious public servants all, spread out to tell the bewildered civilians that there was an attack on Entebbe, so they should avoid that vicinity. "Is it like when the Israelis attacked there?" asked a not very intelligent-looking man.

"Not like that at all!" the leading official replied brusquely. "When the Israelis came, it was only to fight terrorists; the people hitting the airport now ARE terrorists! Now, clear the way for the army!"

"Didn't they just send the army over to Congo to help against the attacks THERE?" said an elderly woman.

"Not all of them! There'll be forces on the way any minute now!"

During this, the co-pilot of the C.A.A. plane had been keeping in communication with the capital. Now he beckoned to his pilot and Josiah, and announced, "They say the airport security guards have set up a perimeter. The hovercraft are just now coming ashore, at least five of them. No blur-projector camouflage, but all mounting small railguns, just above man-portable size."

"That's bad enough," growled Josiah. Then he turned to the chief pilot, whom he remembered as giving the name of Raleigh Akello. "Akello, are you armed?"

"Ten-millimeter semi-automatic pistol." Akello drew it forth. "Ten rounds to the magazine, one spare magazine."

Josiah nodded, while drawing his own flechette pistol. "I've got more ammo for this. If those Neo-Marxists operate like the Al-Qaeda terrorists I fought in Iraq, they like to mingle with crowds. Look there." He pointed toward the airport property. "Anytime now, a swarm of panicky civilians is going to come running our way. But I'll bet you a thousand shillings--" (referring to Uganda's currency) "--that some of them _won't_ be civilians. They'll be on-the-scene buddies of the guys in the hover-subs."

"Planted ahead of time?"

"Yes. And the hovercraft _themselves_ had to have been planted in the lake ahead of time, before the strike against Nigeria. They couldn't have been sneaked there _since_ that attack, with all our people on the alert. This is a _very_ coordinated campaign. Listen, you and I won't do any good rushing TO the airport, the guards there wouldn't be sure we weren't more terrorists. But we can hold a position here, and watch for hostiles. Have your co-pilot lead the officials to some safer place, and we'll tell the police we're standing by here." Without even thinking about it, Josiah was reverting to the corporal who had led patrols in Iraq; but Raleigh Akello didn't argue.

Soon the C.A.A. delegation was being led to relative safety, and the police in Kampala were aware -- and would notify the army -- that two friendlies were forting up in a downed airplane just north of the besieged airport.

The first response out of Kampala did not take a flesh-and-blood form; instead, three modest-sized helicopter drones came flying southward at a low altitude. Each was carrying two packets of lightweight rockets, which had no internal guidance, but which could be accurately aimed by the controllers. The drones paid no attention to the fleeing crowd which was now streaming northward from Entebbe Airport; but one paused and hovered, optical sensors trained on the downed jump-jet. A radio call from Kampala ordered Josiah and Raleigh to show their faces for the drone to see. Soon the two men's identities were confirmed, and the drone rejoined its companions enroute to combat the hover-subs.

A fierce desire to phone Melody now filled Josiah. But it would just feel TOO strange to tell her, "I'll be a bit late for supper, darling, I've gotten into the war after all."
 
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