The First Love Of Alipang Havens

There were seven of the armed submersible hovercraft in all: similar to what the secret army had used in the "music raid" on Wismar, but less sophisticated. They had indeed been planted long before; in fact, agents of the Neo-Marxist movement, with technical help from the Egyptian Caliphate, had _assembled_ them underwater over a period of months, in the course of pretended scuba-diving classes.

Two military helicopters stationed at the airport were destroyed on the ground by railgun fire before their crews could even board them. Fortunately for Entebbe Airport, though, the land security force possessed more than small arms; it also had two grenade launchers, and one particle beam weapon comparable to the ones formerly used by the Overseers in the Diversity States. With these armaments, they damaged three of the attacking hovercraft before their own particle beam was knocked out. The still-living terrorists in the immobilized vehicles carried on a firefight with the airport guards, while the others decided to detour around the airport on the west side.

The United Nations still maintained a small military base near Entebbe; but the personnel currently there were only lightly armed, and all were from the Venezuelan Alliance. They accordingly hunkered down where they were, making no attempt to help the Ugandans.

The four detouring hover-subs were confronted by the helicopter drones, leading to a lively exchange of fire. All three drones were shot down, but not without getting their own rockets away; two of the hovercraft were destroyed outright, leaving just two still headed for Kampala. These were now on an evasive course, dodging between trees and buildings; no longer on a line following the highway where Joshua and Raleigh waited.

But the fleeing civilians _were_ coming along the highway: by foot, by car and by motorcycle. Josiah, pulling the hood of his flexible body armor up over his head, emerged from the jump-jet to get a closer look at people passing by. He was back in Iraq, trying to sort out the innocents from the threats....

THERE! Four men in an approaching propane-fuelled automobile just looked _wrong;_ they looked happy and confident, rather than terrified. Besides which, having lived in Africa for years now, Josiah knew that all black Africans _didn't_ look alike; and these men didn't quite look Ugandan.

To think was to act. Josiah had been given three of the sonic-stun grenades. They were shaped like frisbees, and when thrown in the air they would release their downward-aimed burst of infrasonic waves as soon as they passed over any detectable human or moving object that was farther away than six meters from the user. Their greatest merit was that since they did not kill, innocent bystanders caught in the effect radius would not die. Josiah wished that they had had these during Operation Iraqi Freedom. He hurled his frisbee-grenades toward the oncoming car in rapid succession, before the occupants of that vehicle realized they had been spotted.

The infrasonic blasts stunned the four suspects; the car went out of control and rolled over in a ditch not far from the plane. Some fleeing civilians were also stunned, but happily none of these were hit by motor vehicles. "Cover me!" Josiah called to Raleigh, then dashed through the stream of refugees to the overturned car as fast as he safely could.

All four men in the car were unconscious; all four possessed automatic weapons of a model not used by Ugandan police or soldiers; and with them in the back seat was a highly ominous-looking satchel. Backing away from the car, he used his dataphone to tap into the secondary tactical frequency of Kampala's police. "Calling capital police and all military units! This is Josiah Redfern, at site of previously reported landing of C.A.A. Flight 9031. Probable terrorists sighted carrying unknown device, possibly chemical or biological. Please respond."

"This is Central Police Command," a female voice replied. "Armored units are now enroute to your--"

This was as much as Josiah heard before the shots hit him. What seemed to be flechette ammo like that of his own pistol struck his head, ribcage and left hip. His flex-armor absorbed most of the force of the shots; but it was slightly penetrated at many points, inflicting numerous minor wounds, and the kinetic impact hurled him some four meters through the air.
 
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Not allowing himself the luxury of lying dazed, Josiah scrambled to get on the far side of the overturned automobile from his assailants. Meanwhile, the innocent civilians in the fleeing crowd obligingly distinguished themselves from the enemy -- by stampeding left and right away from the three men who had fired at Josiah.

These men were indeed carrying flechette pistols similar to his. Of course, as pedestrians in the crowd, they would want to carry smaller, more concealable weapons than what the men in the car had. Josiah would have liked to take one of those automatic weapons now; but his foes were already spreading out to finish him, and he couldn't afford even the few seconds it would take to reach inside the car.

The terrorists' original plan to be inconspicuous worked in Josiah's favor: they doubtless had torso armor, but armor extending to heads and limbs would have made them too obvious. Thus Josiah, shooting from down on the ground with his gun set for minimum dispersal of its darts, could easily put shots into both legs of the first enemy who came into view, then a third shot into the head as the man fell.

Raleigh was not idle during this. Taking the risk of emerging from the jump-jet so he could get a line of fire without hitting civilians, he opened fire on the other two hostiles before they realized he was a threat. Getting off seven shots from his semi-automatic in two seconds, he felled both of them, then ran to see if Josiah was all right.

Pulling his friend into the best cover available to them, Josiah said, "Thanks! But you're not armored -- should have kept hidden."

Grinning, Raleigh replied, "What, and let an American brag that he did everything alone? But here, let's take those rifles from the car." He began to reach in through a car window.

"Wait! I just thought: those weapons might be set for DNA recognition, and boobytrapped against any non-terrorist touching them. Let's just sit tight and keep a lookout; our troops _should_ be showing up any--"

But of the two men Raleigh had shot, only one had been killed, by a head shot. The other, having merely gotten the wind knocked out of him by bullet impacts on his back armor, now suddenly leaped up on top of the overturned vehicle, with a lightness which suggested biotechnical strength-enhancement, and swung his flechette gun down to bear on Josiah and Raleigh -- presumably set for wide dispersal.

Josiah threw himself over his friend, again suffering minor wounds but not fatal ones. Raleigh, thus shielded, amended his recent error by firing the last three bullets in his magazine into the terrorist's head.

A moment later, three army tanks arrived, accompanied by lighter armored police vehicles.

= = = = = = = = = = =

That night, after Josiah was released from the emergency room of Mulago Hospital, Raleigh Akello was an honored supper guest at the Redfern household. Elijah Roy, Isaiah Nick, Holly Rose and Alyssa Maria attended to all matters of cooking and serving -- so that their mother could remain uninterruptedly fastened onto her husband, thanking God for his survival. Also thankful were Josiah's sister Tiffany, and her husband Zach Johnson who was Melody's cousin; they made a video call to make sure the Redferns were all safe as soon as they learned about the raid.

Over supper, Josiah focussed his share of the conversation on his times with David _before_ he had left America to return home; but Raleigh was glad to give such answers as he could to questions about today's events.

"Did they really think that just seven hovercraft could occupy or destroy Entebbe Airport, let alone the capital city?" asked Holly.

"Surely not," replied the aviator. "No one's told me, but I expect that the crews of those hovercraft were drugged up for a suicide attack -- their true mission being to _prevent_ our side from expecting a concurrent strike by terrorist footsoldiers. But your Dad wasn't fooled."

"And did you find out what was in that satchel carried by the men Josiah captured?" said Melody, from her perch on her husband's lap.

"In that case, we do have definite knowledge. The satchel was carrying tubes with a mutated pathogen. Josiah was right not to want to tamper with it -- and praise God that his infrasonic-wave grenades didn't break the tubes open! The army brought a biohazard team to investigate it. And I hear that brainscan-enhanced interrogation of the prisoners indicates they intended to release the disease -- being themselves immunized against it -- on the campus of Makarere University."

"Where Elijah and I are going to be students soon!" exclaimed Isaiah. "Why would they want to start their plague there?"

"Well, I wager that they also intended a plain bombing of Makarere's research facilities. We've seen how terrorists are increasing their own scientific sophistication; they probably want to weaken _our_ science capabilities. I know the university's well protected from data-cloud attacks, so the enemy would resort to physical destruction."

Josiah managed to make the rest of the evening more casual. An added peace-of-mind point for him was the fact that scanning had shown he was not carrying any nanobots acquired in the Western Enclave. As for the latest events, he would _never_ mention to Melody or the kids another thing he had learned at the emergency room, a fact he had persuaded the staff not to tell his family: the flechettes that had slightly pierced his flesh had been saturated with a potent neurotoxin. He would have died if not for the updated poison-immunization he had received just hours before in Angola, as Raleigh would have died if even one flechette had punctured his skin.

Even without knowing that little detail, Melody Redfern had more than enough cause to be emphatic in what she told her husband that night. Lying in Josiah's arms, covering him with kisses, she said, "That was enough. You proved you still have what it takes. Be satisfied, for God's sake -- for MY sake! Go back to being a healer, like your buddy Pablo. Let _younger_ men do the fighting from now on!"

"I will, sweetheart," Josiah promised... and proceeded to prove to her that he still had what it took in other areas besides mortal combat. Later, in the loving afterglow, he reflected that his last action in today's emergency, shielding Raleigh from the darts, had been just like the action of a battlefield medic, just like what Specialist Pablo Alvarez would have done.

With that thought, Josiah was _truly_ satisfied.

 
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Here's a review of some of the recent story-events:

Daffodil Ford officially changed his name to David Redfern, and is interested in seeking a diplomatic post in Uganda, so he can meet his father's family even if he doesn't renounce his Diversity States citizenship.

Vitaly Khloponin, the second-ranking person in the Department of Indoctrination, was exposed as being behind the attempt to murder newspaperman Miguel De Soto. This was the last straw, causing the Fairness Party to abolish the Indoctrination Department altogether, which in turn required a reshuffling of the national media establishment. But an even greater shakeup occurred: Vice-President Carlos Anselmo acquired proof that President Jessica Trevette had personally killed sacrificial victims in Aztlan. His revelation of this led to a shoot-out right in the Party Presidium, in which Anselmo died, and it _seemed_ that Trevette also died. Secretary of State Megavolt Atkinson became the new President.

But Jessica Trevette had secretly maintained a clone of herself, who stood in for her at times. Knowing that she was going to be exposed for her crimes, she arranged for her clone to die in her place. She then escaped to Aztlan, to be welcomed by El Presidente Emilio Formentera. The new Aztlano ruler is expanding his business relationships with the Indian mafia, since the Chinese mafia has been crushed.

Chinese gangsters didn't go down without striking a few more blows. They attempted to assassinate Yang Sung-Kuo by means of a poison-dart-shooting mini-drone, and within China they caused some deaths with biological weapons. Meanwhile, the Egyptian and Babylonian Caliphates, on the outs with China because of their actions against the Lunar Orchard, began trying to gain more power in a way that did not confront the Chinese directly: by teaming up with the Neo-Marxist terrorists in Africa. Among the ensuing good-guy casualties in Africa was Etienne LaClede, the former Swiss banker who had been part of the secret army's covert raid in Zurich.

Inside the Western Enclave, dentist Avery Glass was awarded an administrative position in the medical university being formed for exiles. He was even allowed to have his non-exiled son Larry come into the Enclave to work with him. The Texas Rangers received reinforcements for their Enclave operations; and Ranger Zella Greenlee received from Brendan Hyland the book Miguel De Soto had written, to smuggle it out of the Enclave. David Redfern got the go-ahead to produce another concert by exile musicians.

Alipang and Kim, with their baby daughter Peggy, took a trip up to the new Yellowstone Sector. One of the concerns regarding new laborers for Yellowstone is that many of them are weak and malnourished because of being fed nutritionally inferior genetically-modified foods. At the worker-inprocessing center on former Indian reservation property, Alipang and Kim enjoyed a reunion with their friends Summer and Evan Rand. Propagandist Rhoda Gardner, visiting the construction site for geothermal power plants, had her teeth injured in an accident... and showed no gratitude to Alipang when he performed dental repairs.
 
Chapter 116: Another Crack in the Actual Wall

Megavolt Atkinson, the new President of the Diversity States, was fortunate that she was a black woman, or else she could have had _both_ sides in the latest wave of rioting angry at her.

Because Jessica Trevette, a white woman, and Carlos Anselmo, a Hispanic man, had become deadly enemies and (as far as people in the D.S.A. knew) had both died, a population long trained in group-identity thinking had drawn up sides for more idiotic brawls. Sympathizers with Anselmo claimed there was a conspiracy by whites against all Hispanics, and were attacking whites at random. Sympathizers with Trevette claimed there was a conspiracy by males against all women, and were attacking males at random. It was thus a dangerously confusing time for Hispanic women, who couldn't be sure which side they were supposed to be on.

Georgetown, in what had formerly been the state of Delaware, was enduring yet another outbreak of mob-against-mob fighting, despite the number of casualties already suffered in the regional unrest which had claimed the life of Dobie Marsalis. But with no Supreme Court Justices making money off the riots anymore, and with labor-union precedence not being the basis of conflict, the Fairness Party had faced no opposition when it came to strengthening riot-control measures. The battling factions were still being allowed to fight in _some_ locations; but the amount of space they were allowed to fight in was considerably less than in past "kinetic negotiations" between labor unions. And Federal District Police, here in Mid-Atlantic District and elsewhere, had a great deal more freedom of action.

In fact, officers were allowed to kill _any_ rioter whom _they_ judged to be threatening violence to anyone or anything _other_ than riot opponents.

Hispanic women in many communities, owing to the mutually-exclusive loyalties competing for their allegiance, were being watched protectively by law-enforcement personnel generally. This afternoon, several such recipients of protection in Georgetown were being transported by a protected light-rail train to attend a showing of the movie Sectors of the Heart, in which the whole Salisbury household could be seen on-image. One of these citizens was Juanita Porres, principal of Leon Trotsky Middle School which Cecilia Salisbury had attended before the Salisburys had moved indefinitely into the Western Enclave.

Also on the train were a number of professionals in assorted fields from other countries. These, by the invitation of the teachers' union, had all been touring American schools lately to give lectures. Not lectures about their careers, or about anything useful to the schoolchildren, but lectures belonging to a series titled "Why the United States Was Oppressive, Sexist, Racist, Environmentally Unsound and Un-Mutual." The countries of origin of the speakers included Canada, China, Venezuela, Aztlan, Saudi Arabia, and the Babylonian Caliphate. Juanita's middle school had been their latest platform, and she felt honored to have had them there. She was further pleased that they were all interested in seeing the movie with her. It had her speculating on whether she might be able to move up to a job in the State Department.

None of the new friendships, however, offered any romance for the principal. That was all right, because she was dating someone. She was dating a male, and a white male -- which meant that he could be a target for either side in the new riots. The entertainment-support union had accordingly switched him to a job where he could mostly keep out of sight.

Thus, Riff Gamble, friend of Dan Salisbury, was acting as the chief holo-projectionist at the theater. He knew that Juanita would be at the late-afternoon showing of Sectors of the Heart. She would stay for the evening showing as well, after which they would get something to eat together, then spend the night at her place. Juanita had her own apartment, albeit a small one, whereas Riff was required by his union to live in a union dormitory. But Juanita didn't feel that her boyfriend was taking advantage of her more comfortable quarters; he had, after all, paid for all restaurant meals they had eaten so far, and Juanita had refrained from telling him that this made him a disgusting patriarchal caveman.

The urban-transit train was less than a quarter-kilometer away from where the movie crowd would get off, when a chunk of pavement struck the side of the car in which Juanita sat. Almost before she could register the fact, police officers on the train's roof opened up with automatic rifles and the shotgun-like flame-projectors.

Juanita and her international friends could not tell how many proletarians were killed, nor which side they had been on; but of course that was a concern for the defenders of the collective. For the train passengers, what mattered was that they were not going to be late for the movie.

 
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This showing of Sector of the Heart was preceded by a trailer, also holographic, for the latest "edgy" production by Zimmo Garland. Quadruple-actual-size images of Samantha Ford, Osmawani Jalil, and other actors were seen performing remarkable erotic feats for a minute and a half. Then the feature presentation began. Juanita sat between a South African woman and a Bolivian man, both of whom had lately delivered redundant speeches at her school about the evils of private enterprise. Juanita succeeded in irritating these neighbors all through the show by her boastful chattering about her close personal acquaintance with Dan, Chilena and their children.

The only times she fell quiet were during the few violent scenes. She was completely aware of the mass murders of Christians, Jews and patriots which her beloved Fairness Party had committed as it came to power; but those _real_ murders, having occurred out of her sight, were far less upsetting to her than imaginary killings that _were_ visible to her. To be sure, in holographic imagery, the movie deaths were highly graphic and convincing. She was glad that in the climax, the noble Commerce Inspectors used only non-lethal weapons to defeat the minions of DeathstructionCorp. Then came Tommy Salisbury's "Collective Coming" song over the ending credits, performed by Dan Salisbury with Enclave musicians; Juanita, to whom the song had been leaked by Isadora Cruller before the movie's release, enthusiastically sang along at the top of her voice.

Her companions in the theater were not heartbroken when she said goodbye to them. She found her way to Riff Gamble's control room... and she was in such an exuberant mood, that the two of them _immediately_ commenced certain pleasing activities right there in that room. Afterwards, they ate the soy-artichoke-mushroom squares he had provided; sat around conversing while they digested their food; and then did still more of what they had spontaneously done just before eating. Juanita's lover of the moment was prompted to remark, "You can brainwave-check me on this: you're _better_ than Citizen Ford and Citizen Jalil combined!"

It was late in the evening when Riff led her along a service tunnel under the theater building, explaining that a one-way door at the end of this tunnel would put them on the street at a spot which police had recently cleared. From there, they should be able to catch a bus to her apartment without mishap.

This plan should have worked; it was just their bad luck that opposing groups in the current strife _happened_ to filter back onto this particular block very soon after the police moved elsewhere. As the self-locking door cut off their retreat, Riff and Juanita beheld on one side of them a crowd of women, equally mixing whites, blacks and Asians. A number of these, by the look of them, had artificial muscle-growth enhancement: part of the Fairness Party's policy of artificially "proving" that women were _naturally_ stronger than men. On the other side, they saw a crowd of Hispanics, together with what might have been a few Native Americans. This crowd was nearly all male; just a handful of Hispanic women stood with them, choosing racial group identity over gender-based group identity.

A woman in the first group shouted to Juanita: "Hey, sister! You belong with us!" A man in the second group shouted to her: "Hey, hermana, you belong with us!" Another woman in the first group seemed to be speaking to her companions as she said: "That sister's with a dirty male!" Another man in the second group similarly said: "She's with a dirty gringo!"

"Wait, wait!" cried Juanita. "Some of you know me! I facilitate the Diversity Pioneers! We teach peace and oneness! There's no reason for--!"

This was as far as she got before still another woman in the first gang interrupted: "But the Party also teaches _justice_ for women!" Stepping on that woman's words, another of the Hispanic men yelled: "But the Party also teaches _liberation_ for brown people!"

Riff had seen instantly that he and Juanita had no escape route open to them, and he had pressed the distress-call key on his dataphone even before the first shout. Now he sought to buy more time for the police to trace his signal and return, by exclaiming, "This isn't about sex or color! It's the corporate interests trying to divide us! We have to uncover the corporate interests behind the deaths in Washington! That's the--"

Normally, the all-purpose catch-phrase "corporate interests" should have carried some weight with both groups. Most members of both crowds had, in their time, protested furiously against "corporate interests" without having the slightest clue about what a corporation really was. Unfortunately, it was a more pressing fact that on _this_ day, most members of both crowds had already spent hours physically fighting members of the opposite faction. They wanted revenge on each other now, _even_ more than they wanted to defeat the boogeyman of "corporate interests."

When both crowds lost patience and charged, it was much more for the purpose of battling each other than of singling out Riff and Juanita for mayhem. Nonetheless, Riff and Juanita _were_ caught between them. Riff did the one thing he could: he pulled Juanita down to the pavement and shielded her with his body, as the sudden combat raged all around them. It seemed to Juanita that the uproar went on for ages; from time to time, she felt the impact of something striking Riff's back or head, but he went on breathing and went on holding his position to cover her.

However many minutes it really was, whooping sirens at last announced the reappearance of the Mid-Atlantic Federal District Police. An amplified voice from behind the blinding spotlights commanded the rioters to surrender... but only gave them a totally inadequate three seconds to respond before the police opened fire. Now it was a new chaos of gunshots and screams, until the surviving brawlers had found corners to dodge around.

When the shooting had ceased, Riff Gamble, with several cuts and serious bruises, heaved himself to his feet, waving at the police. "I'm the one who called you!" he shouted. "This woman is the Principal of Leon--"

Once again, Riff was interrupted: this time by an automatic rifle and two flechette pistols, which demolished his body beyond recognition before he knew what hit him. With her lover's blood splattered all over her, Juanita shrieked in a hysteria that combined grief, horror and incredulity. From somewhere behind the lights, now that the guns had fallen silent, she could hear a self-satisfied voice declaring: "Hostage taker neutralized."
 
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The career educator now received a belated education.

Having chosen to believe that the late Riff Gamble was one more legitimate target for deadly force, the police refused to listen to anything Juanita said to the contrary. After all, the authorities established by the Fairness Party _couldn't_ be wrong; and since Riff had not only been a white male, but also a known friend of Biblicals, he _must_ have been up to something un-mutual or capitalistic or something like that.

When Juanita fell silent, the police assumed that she was assenting to their convenient version of reality. None of them guessed just how _well_ they had enlightened her.

It was for the students and faculty of Leon Trotsky Middle School (who no longer had any substantial summer vacation) to discover this.

Insisting that she was perfectly capable of going back to work, Principal Porres clocked in at her school the next morning... and immediately ordered an unscheduled assembly, to be attended by _everyone_ on the premises. Just before the assembly, she persuaded all the adult employees to drink some Joy Nectar with her -- supposedly in celebration of her survival, but actually to tranquilize the others in advance, blunting their reactions to what was coming.

"Good morning, citizens," Juanita began; and already in those three words, the more alert persons in the auditorium could hear her tension. But they assumed that what followed would be the standard script about male-chauvinist military-religious business executives causing what had happened the night before. They assumed wrongly. The first thing to correct them was her _failure_ to say "The collective is all" next.

"Last night, my significant other was killed, after protecting me from harm during the latest urban disharmony. I am reminded of the stories I myself have told you, in this very auditorium, about my days as a teenager in the Occupy Wall Street movement. I have told you about police officers in the service of the old fascist corporate system, who callously shot and killed hundreds of my heroic friends, just because we tried to promote economic justice, marriage equality and media democracy. All of you remember my telling those stories, don't you?"

Some of the children in the seats inferred that applause was desired at this point, so they applauded their citizen principal.

"Thank you. I have something more to say along that line, and I have arranged for my words to be streamcast to schools all over this federal district. Depending on how other principals handle online input, a _great_ many people should be hearing what I'm about to say.

"I've told you before that the bourgeois racist fanatics in those days were determined to allow no view but their own to be heard, and that they would never admit to any guilt when they murdered persons like my friends in the movement. Now, I need you all to listen _very_ carefully to what I say next:

"Every time I told you those stories, I was lying to you on purpose. My friends were NOT wantonly shot down the way I described. Because the Fairness Party was born from the social movement I was part of as a girl, I gave it my loyalty, based on the _emotions_ it stirred in me; and I made up my police-brutality stories in order to convince you that anyone who was _against_ the Party must be evil. In my mind, the goal of advancing the Party's aims justified my lying to you. But last night, I learned that I myself have been lied to, by the very Party to which I sold my conscience. My boyfriend, Riff Gamble, was shot dead by OUR police, just because they didn't _care_ enough about human life to _bother_ finding out what he was really doing. Everything I _falsely_ said about police in the old system, is actually true about police in the _present_ system!"

Juanita's hearers were stupefied with disbelief. Still, she knew she probably had less than another minute left to speak freely; although the Pinkshirts were disbanded, someone else would be bursting in to arrest her shortly. So she used her momentum while she could.

"I hope that someday, all of you children will forgive me for teaching you lies. If there is a God, I hope He can forgive me. All of us in the teachers' union have been _required_ to lie to you, feeding you propaganda that would _seem_ true because it seemed simple. We trained your emotions to make you better servants of the Party, but we never taught you the _complexity_ of actual facts. The whole routine about business corporations, for example: in reality, there were many corporations which _supported_ the creation of the Fairness Party! I won't have time to explain this to you; but try to understand that truth is more complicated than we led you to believe. One thing that IS simple enough for me to tell you in a hurry is this: it is the PARTY, not God-fascists or white supremacists, that is now controlling people's lives and silencing dissent by force! It won't be easy for you young people to get at the _real_ truth, and I'm sorry with all my heart that things are this way; but I tell you with _inside_ knowledge that the Fairness Party has been _lying_ to you for as long as it has existed!"

Sirens were audible outside now; but Juanita hurried on:

"If any of you can see the truth of what I'm saying, DO NOT say that you do! Protect yourselves for now! Do what you're told, for now! Go ahead and agree when they say to you that I have Oppositional Defiant Disorder, or whatever they'll say to dismiss my words from your minds. I won't blame you for denouncing me; but _remember_ what I've told you!"

Heavily-armed officers of the regime were now breaking in the main entrance of the school, which Juanita had secretly locked to delay them; but they were too late to prevent the unarmed Juanita Porres from getting off one more shot of truth before they reached the auditorium and silenced her with trank darts:

"The Party does NOT love you! The people running it may not positively _hate_ you either, because hate is not the _only_ element of evil; that was another lie we taught you. But they don't mind _using_ you for their own advantage, because they _enjoy_ having power over you! It's fun for them to be able to decide who lives, and who gets a celebration of the completion of their life! I don't know how this can be changed; but if any of you can remember me kindly, then honor me by trying to _find_ a better way! And if later you see a video of me saying that what I said this morning was wrong, that 'confession' will either be the result of torture or drugs, or electronically faked in some way....Ah, hello, officers! Guess what? The scragging collective is NOT all!"

Eventually it was ascertained that web-monitoring technicians had been slow enough on the job, that at least a portion of Juanita's speech did get through to other schools. The bureaucrats who soon consigned her to a Self-Esteem Center carefully denied her the satisfaction of knowing how grandly she had rocked the boat; but _they_ knew she had rocked it.
 
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I'm looking forward to seeing just how much Juanita did rock the boat. Hopefully the kids won't forget what she said. Of course, seeing as how most of them have never heard anything like it before, it might be more likely to stick. Seeing her arrested, or the TV suddenly shut off, should help.
 
Back in Yellowstone Sector, in the afternoon of the same day, Alipang and Kim, the latter holding Baby Peggy, were getting their first look at anti-gravity in operation.

The Anti-Gravity Development Corporation of New Delhi, which had taken an interest in the geothermal project, had sent a technical crew to try out a new lifting device on the most active construction site. What Alipang and Kim saw before them, at a half-kilometer distance, was what looked like an oversized railroad flatcar, only self-propelled and with treads under it instead of wheels. And not resting on this car, but hovering _over_ it, was some kind of pillar or girder, intended to become part of the load-bearing structure in a new building whose foundation was just lately been laid.

Alipang and Kim understood the basics of anti-gravity; but America's decline in technological ambition, dating back well before the Fairness Revolution, had meant they never got to witness any practical application of it. Now that they _were_ seeing this piece of the future, they fortuitously had the benefit of someone standing near who could explain it to them: the Undersecretary of Sustainable Energy. She was not supervising the Indians -- they knew their own business, and were working closely with the American construction engineers; but she was present as a gesture of appreciation for an industrially advanced nation lending the D.S.A. a helping hand. And since the Havens family stood in her favor, Alipang and Kim had received her permission to come closer to the anti-gravity demonstration than would be allowed for most people.

"Is that thing powered by a fusion-bottle engine?" Kim asked the Undersecretary.

"So it is. The great obstacle to _practical_ use of anti-gravity was always the problem of providing adequate power to a _mobile_ gravity-alteration plant. Not much use hoisting heavy objects up and down and up and down in one place, if you can't move the lifter laterally."

"And what about changing the _attitude_ of the object being levitated?" asked Alipang.

"A piece of cake," replied the Undersecretary. "Remember, the Enclave _exists_ for the very purpose of changing attitudes. Sorry, bad joke. But yes, you'll soon see that this lifter _does_ have the ability you mention. They just increase the output at one end of the gravitic emitter while decreasing it at the other end, and the pillar they're carrying -- there, there it goes!" While they had been speaking, the Indian crew had brought their anti-gravity tractor up to the spot where the pillar was to stand; the adjustment the Undersecretary had been explaining worked like giant invisible hands, tilting the levitated pillar until it could slide on an invisible ramp, to settle into its intended place.

"Now, that," observed Kim, "is the most scientifically impressive caber toss I have ever seen."

To this, her husband said, "I wonder how _financially_ impressive it is."

The Undersecretary looked at Alipang. "If you mean, is it economical, the answer is that it is not yet _very_ economical. We're not quite living in the science-fiction stories where everybody has their own anti-grav cart or anti-grav bicycle or anti-grav skateboard. But that's coming eventually, and India is possibly even _ahead_ of China in making it happen."

"I suppose that by helping out America this way, India is making an international statement about that very thing," said Kim.

"They probably are, though foreign policy is not my need-to-know area. Something I can tell you in this connection is that less than an hour ago, the Indians agreed to permit a holographing team to videocord the work they're doing right now."

Alipang's beady eyes widened. "Oh? Whose camera crew?"

"Some people working for Distribution, simply because they're available. But the holovideo they take -- this will interest you two -- is going to be incorporated in the new _movie_ that the Salisburys will star in, the sequel to Sectors of the Heart. In fact, Dan Salisbury is going to be flown in here any minute now, so he can be filmed walking around close to the lifting tractor."

"That must be so as to show his dumb-hick character being baffled by seeing anti-gravity at work," Kim speculated.

The Undersecretary lowered her voice. "That's correct, from what I'm told. With the State Department having taken authority over our entertainment industry, some personnel of that department -- including Samantha Ford -- went so far as to suggest that Dan's character should be so stupid, he thinks the lifter is demonic and tries to cast evil spirits out of it. Doctor Havens, there's no need for that angry look, the suggestion was rejected. Your friend Daffodil, I mean David, opposed it, and his arguments prevailed with higher-ups."

"Thank the Inexpressible Ultimate for small favors," Alipang sighed.

 
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Some five minutes later, a small two-seat helicopter, far from the latest model but very well maintained, approached for a landing, as close as it could safely come to the worksite. It was Texas Ranger Aircraft Number 343, Emilio Vasquez's faithful patrol chopper. Descending behind it was a larger helicopter, with the markings of the Distribution Department. When Emilio emerged from 343, he proved to be accompanied by his wife Melody, Alipang's Chinese-born sister, who had Baby Douglas in her arms. The couple hurried over to greet Alipang and Kim.

"Emilio's officially here to check on the Indians' contribution to the geothermal project," said Melody as she hugged her brother with her free arm. "As the Enclave's chief defender against outside threats, it's his job to keep aware of the condition of all the objectives he's guarding. But there was no order that he _couldn't_ bring me along."

Kim grasped Baby Peggy under both armpits and held her out toward Baby Douglas. "Here, Peggy, say hello to Cousin Dougie."

"Yagugobabaduba," remarked Peggy, to which Douglas replied with a sociable "Umbawoowa."

"Are you also going to watch Dan filming the movie scene the Undersecretary just told us about?" Alipang asked Emilio.

Emilio glanced from Alipang to the triumvirate member. "That and more."

The Undersecretary met his gaze. "Yes, Lieutenant, you're always juggling ten or more things in your mind. Just now, for instance, I'll wager pesos to centavos that you were _strongly_ tempted to fly in directly _above_ that anti-gravity tractor, to see what effect it would have on your helicopter."

"Not with my wife and son on board, I wouldn't. But it _will_ in fact be necessary, sooner or later, for _someone_ to test how much effect an anti-grav emitter has upon aircraft passing straight overhead. For now, I have something more personal to talk about with Al and Kim."

"I can take a hint. There's Dan Salisbury now, getting out of the other helo. I'll let him join the rest of you, and you can have your family chat without me."

"Actually, ma'am, I'd be grateful if you would keep Dan _away_ from us for a minute; I need to tell my news to Al and Kim _before_ Dan hears about it. Please encourage him to shoot his scene first, _then_ talk to us."

With no more argument than a raising of eyebrows, the Energy Undersecretary did as Emilio had requested. Thus, Dan settled for a wave in Alipang's direction before accompanying the camera crew to shoot views of himself wandering around the Indian equipment.

"What's this news?" Kim asked Emilio.

"Something I picked up through law-enforcement channels, with corroboration from labor-union sources. You know that there are still 'kinetic negotiations' going on between rival groups outside the fence. Dan's friend Riff Gamble was dating Juanita Porres, from the school where your niece used to attend..."

Alipang frowned. "Riff hooked up with the woman who allowed Cecilia to be persecuted for not joining the Pioneers?"

Melody sighed. "Like it or not, Al, yes, he did. But if you're mad at him for that, he was punished more than enough."

"What do you mean?"

"It means that Riff and Senorita Porres got caught between two brawling mobs," Emilio told him. "They survived that, only to have Riff get shot and killed BY DISTRICT POLICE who treated him as ONE OF the rioters."

Alipang fell silent. A moment later, Kim said, "That's why you wanted to put off telling Dan when he's in the middle of acting a location scene! If he botched his performance when it was known he HAD just heard about his friend's death, someone might say that he was too upset -- and that his reaction implied a _criticism_ of the authorities."

Emilio nodded. "Let him learn the sad news _after_ he's done videocording; then he'll be able to compose himself _before_ the next time he's in front of cameras."

Emilio also knew about Juanita Porres' bold act of rebellion; but he had not even told Melody about that, not even in their secret way. There was too much hazard that members of the Havens family would react with unconcealed approval of the principal's turnabout.
 
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Dan was kept at his scene-shooting for more than an hour, as he improvised ad-lib dialogue between his peasantish character and some of the anti-grav technicians. All of these workers had previously been briefed that the American's character was _supposed_ to be a dunce; thus, they took no offense when he told them that he was surprised to see them with such futuristic load-moving equipment because he had thought people in India still used elephants for everything.

Emilio and Melody, meanwhile, broke out a picnic lunch they had brought along to share with Alipang and Kim. (They knew Dan to have had something to eat just before flying to the geothermal site.) Emilio kept the lunch conversation fairly neutral by talking about the adjustments the recent Texas Ranger reinforcements were making to Enclave life, and unclassified aspects of patrols lately flown by the upgraded "Texas Bear" airplanes.

At last, inevitably, Dan finished all needed shots for this movie sequence.... and came over to join his in-laws and their spouses. "Guess what?" he said to them. "Isadora Cruller's decided on the title for the sequel: Geothermal Sites of the Heart. This, even though the part I just shot will be almost the _only_ part that is videocorded in the actual construction area. Other views will be computer-generated."

"That's no different from the studio-versus-location mix in many old movies," replied Alipang, while simultaneously looking to see if Emilio intended to give some cue. And in a way, Emilio did:

"Excuse me, Dan, but now that you're done filming, I have to go talk to some of the Indians myself." A moment later, much as the Energy Undersecretary had removed herself, Emilio arose and withdrew -- leaving Dan Salisbury in the company of three people who all went much farther back with him than Emilio did. Besides this consideration, Emilio's engaging people in professional talk would make less conspicuous Dan's imminent shock when hearing of his friend's death.

Having been a politician long enough to develop good observation, the Energy Undersecretary guessed what Emilio was up to, and saw no harm in supporting his plan. She and the Ranger soon had a large cluster of anti-grav technicians, plus the local project management, gathered around them for questions and answers. Dan's moment of sudden pain and grief thus was at least granted almost as much privacy as if it had occurred indoors.

Emilio's most relevant question was: "You know that China has discouraged the Diversity States from developing practical anti-gravity, though not quite strictly _forbidding_ it. So someone like me isn't able to keep as informed about this area as I'd like. Hence this question, dumb as it may sound: _have_ you done tests in India on whether airplanes overflying an anti-grav emitter suffer adverse results to their stability?"

"No question is foolish if the one asking has been prevented from finding the answer sooner," said a bearded and turbaned engineer, who seemed to have been _waiting_ for this very question. Approaching Emilio closely, he held up a tablet computer, whose screen depicted a horizontal line at the bottom, and a vertical line rising from the first line's center.

"The horizontal line is the Earth's surface," the Indian continued, "and the vertical line is the vector of an anti-gravity lifter's influence. What the layman does not stop to think about is that any object on Earth is not _only_ subject to gravitation from _exactly_ beneath it; the object is _also_ subject to oblique gravitation from all _around_ its position." As soon as he said this, new lines appeared on the small screen, left and right of the vertical center line, rising up at angles to meet that center line. "An anti-gravity emitter can only cancel direct gravity where IT stands; after you rise to a certain height, and that not very high at all, it is increasingly _unable_ to cancel gravitation from the sides. Consequently, any overflying aircraft would have to be _very_ low for the gravity alteration to exert any significant influence on its flight. So a device like ours is not a serious menace to aviation."

"Thank you, sir," said Emilio; and the Undersecretary added, "You obviously have experience in clarifying technological information for novices."

"I am pleased to be of assistance, Madam Undersecretary." Suddenly, the engineer handed his tablet computer to Emilio. "Please keep this, Lieutenant, as a token gift in appreciation for your aviation detachment looking out for our safety here. It contains a more mathemical breakdown of how different intensities of anti-gravity dissipate with rising altitude."

"Why, thank you again, that's very kind of you. I'll make a point of providing this data to the rest of my fliers."

The engineer smiled. "Yes, provide them with all the data that they ought to have."

 
It was not until five hours later, after flying back to Casper, that Emilio was to discover what the Indian engineer had meant by his parting remark.

Dropping Melody and Douglas off with Rosa Cantu, Emilio then went to his secure office at Natrona Airport, to check for any encrypted messages from Texas. There were none; but the tablet computer had its own message to give, announced by its playing the first four measures of "The Yellow Rose of Texas." A large amount of scrollable text appeared on the screen of the data device of its own accord:

Hello again, Lieutenant Vasquez. Do not be alarmed, I am a friend. This computer was programmed to reveal this message only when you would be alone, with no other life-signs near, and in a place protected against electronic surveillance. Thus, you are presumably sitting in your shielded office as you read my words.

There are agents of the Indian mafia slipping into your country, among them the woman who has become an advisor to the young Chief Justice of your Supreme Court; but I who gave you this computer am an agent of the Indian government. I am here primarily to identify mafia members who are have infiltrated Anti-Gravity Development. My government has no cause for animosity toward you Texans, and we share common enemies. I am aware of how your Texas Rangers cooperate covertly with that anonymous army which is principally based in Mexico, Argentina, Poland, Nigeria and Uganda; and you, individually, have come to our attention as a man of exceptional integrity and devotion to duty. Because of this, I am instructed to provide you with something which may save your life in an emergency. Accepting it will not obligate you to perform any service for us in return; it simply is pleasing to my superiors that you should survive.

When I spoke of you giving your comrades the data which they ought to have, I referred to the unclassified anti-gravity applications information of which we spoke at the construction site. This information can and should be disseminated freely; but you should transcribe it onto other media, while keeping this tablet computer in your possession. The secret part of its contents, pertaining to your own safety, is accessible only to you, via DNA recognition.

This computer is not only a computer; it is also an anti-gravity emitter, much more compact than any anti-gravity device of significant strength which India has made known to the public. It will provide you with instructions for its own use. Because of its size, it can only work for about fifteen seconds at a time if lifting a heavy weight; somewhat longer if merely slowing a descent. It needs long recharging between times of operation; this can be done either at a common electrical outlet, or by means of solar energy. The device can theoretically boost a human being upward in the air, or slow that person in a fall; but the recommended use is to install it on the underside of your helicopter. There, it would enable you to get airborne BEFORE your rotors have gotten up to takeoff speed, thus escaping from some sudden threat on the ground; and in case of damage to your craft causing it to fall with loss of auto-rotation, you could activate the emitter partway through your fall, reducing your falling velocity enough to give a good chance of surviving the crash.

I will not strictly require you to keep this gift a secret from your Texan chain of command, but I strongly ADVISE you to do so. As the Chinese have lately discovered, it is always possible that enemies have infiltrated your own ranks. The gift I have given you has the best chance of protecting you from harm if you yourself are absolutely the ONLY American who knows that you have it.

"Holy gutflak," Emilio muttered to himself when the message ended. "God, I need your guidance: _should_ I keep this a complete secret?" He couldn't forget how the D.S. Marshals had been infiltrated by Aztlano spies, and how hard the Rangers had had to work at making sure _their_ ranks contained no traitors....

He did not, at any rate, _immediately_ tell anyone, even Melody.
_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

The next morning, while Ranger Zella Greenlee was acting as watch officer at Texas Ranger Headquarters, Commandant Brittany Pierce and Vice-Commandant Jed Brickhouse were in one of their secret conference rooms, meeting with the widow of slain Vice-Commandant Pablo Sotero. Monica had no idea why she had been asked to this meeting, but she would not be kept wondering for long.

"Thank you for coming, Monica," said Jed, rising to offer her a chair.

"What can I do for you?" asked the handsome Texican lady as she sat down.

"You already do plenty," Brittany told her. "I don't think you realize _what_ an emotional anchor you are for the Rangers, and for all Texans. You began to be that anchor _before_ the Fairness Revolution, when you and Pablo were struggling to help Hispanic people to get past blind, unreasoning groupthink..."

"Trying to stop them from being suckered by the Aztlan Reconquista movement," Jed finished for her. "And Texas, at least, was spared from that."

Monica shrugged. "I believed in the United States -- as did my husband. And now I believe in what _remains_ of it, which is _here_ in Texas."

Brittany smiled. "You don't realize it, but out of your own mouth you're confirming the merit of our plans concerning you -- that is, what we're going to _request_ that you agree to."

Monica drew herself up straighter in her chair. "If you tell me that you honestly believe that what you have in mind will give my son a better chance for a good life, I promise I'll be all for it."

"We do believe so," replied Jed.

Brittany took a deep breath and launched onto her explanation:

"We recently came into possession of a manuscript written by a _Hispanic_ gentleman who had been an anti-communist activist for all of his adult life. We've gone over it so as to extract information of interest, while concealing the author's identity. Combining this information with intelligence of our own collecting, we have compiled such a compelling indictment of the Fairness Party as could persuade virtually _everyone_ in Texas to agree.... on secession from the Diversity States."

"We're still giving Megavolt Atkinson a chance to demonstrate better character than Jessica Trevette had," Jed interjected; "but we want to be ready to break away from the D.S.A. on _very_ short notice."

Brittany resumed: "Our data-cloud experts have developed a plan to inject our call for secession into all the media at once. We can make it an online referendum, pledging that we _won't_ move to declare independence _unless_ a clear majority of Texans approves. But since we Rangers are in effect the army, we have to _avoid_ letting this be seen as a _military_ coup. The Mexican Alliance contains no dictatorships, military or otherwise, and they won't back our play if we don't prove our intention to set up a representative government. Therefore, we need to offer a _civilian_ interim President; and this President must be a female Hispanic, so the Fairness Party can't call our revolution 'a white supremacist uprising' OR 'a male-chauvinist reactionary movement.' Once we commit to the do-or-die attempt, there won't be time for an election campaign; the woman chosen _must_ be someone _already_ widely known and respected."

"Monica," Jed solemnly intoned, "we need YOU to be our interim President. And if it happens, then probably President for a regular term."

"Please, Monica," said Brittany. "Do it for Miguel -- and for Pablo."

Monica leaned back in her chair, eyes widened. "I dreamed about Pablo last night! I dreamed that he handed me an old-fashioned cavalry saber, and said to me, 'Carry this until our son is old enough to carry it.' Now I see why that dream was sent to me. I'm in. I'll do it."

Brittany got up to hug her friend. "God bless you! And we'll find you an _actual_ saber."
 
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Carol and I finally have explored Wyoming. Now I have identified corrections I have to make in my story-geography. For instance, I had been under the impression that there was a mountain CLOSE BY the city of Casper on the west side; now I know that it's mostly prairie out that way.

I will have to insert retroactive corrections in some of my existing chapters. Note that these will not have to change any of the onstage events of my plotline so far. But I'll need to add some after-the-fact rationale for things. Notably, Carol and I learned that there IS NO town of Sussex in Wyoming; "Sussex" merely refers to something like a rural township or district, occupied by ranchers. Thus, I will have to say that when the Fairness Party created the Western Enclave, it decided to MAKE a town there, because someone thought it was a good place to put exiles.
 
Chapter 117: The Superwoman Sickness


After learning of Riff Gamble's death, Dan Salisbury was told by Isadora Cruller in a dataphone conversation that he could take a day off before shooting any more scenes in the construction area where the anti-gravity lifter was in use.

Chilena was unable to come up to Yellowstone and comfort her husband, as Ms. Cruller would not let her interrupt some filming that was in progress on the rolling plains west of Casper. But there were others who showed up at the geothermal site. One was Peter Tomisaburo, as part of a work team that would help install the air systems in buildings which were far enough along for this to be done. Another was Yang Sung-Kuo, who was going to have to return to China soon, and so wanted to see Alipang once again before departing. Still another was the artificially-strengthened actress Pulverizer Clarendon, who was reprising her Commerce Inspector character from Sectors of the Heart.

Peter, unsuspected by anyone except Lieutenant-Colonel Yang, was using his acquired radio-frequency vision to determine if any of the personnel from Anti-Gravity Development of New Delhi were making radio transmissions that seemed to be unrelated to their company's business. His covert actions were a great deal more subtle than those of Yang or Ms. Clarendon.

After offering his condolences to Dan, Yang took his first opportunity to draw Alipang aside. "My report on the Enclave's educational improvements is completed, and I promise it _will_ make you exiles look good. As things now stand, W.E.M.U. will open for business in early August, with its first classes being held in three areas: dentistry, internal medicine, and general surgery. They also contemplate a holistic-therapies department, which of course we Chinese find pleasing."

"So are you about to leave?" asked Alipang. "It was great to get to meet your wife and daughters, but I wish we'd been able to spend more time together."

Yang shrugged. "Sorry to tell, yes, I'm being recalled. My superiors are convinced that no one is after me in particular anymore; and I'm needed back at my real job, since men from the Egyptian and Babylonian Caliphates are increasingly stirring up trouble at the United Nations. But some visiting is better than no visiting. And surely you and I can spar one more time, so I can see if there are any last recommendations I can offer about your technique."

"My pleasure," Alipang beamed.

Pulverizer Clarendon, meanwhile, offered her own idea of sympathy to Dan: "Citizen Salisbury, I'm sorry to hear that your friend blundered into the police officers' field of fire. I have no doubt that the careless shooters were all male. Please don't hold it against Citizen Porres that she was unable to save Citizen Gamble; _even_ a woman can't always be on top of _every_ possible situation. And the emotional confusion she reportedly showed afterward suggests that she had never quite reached her goddess-potential."

"Thank you for your concern," Dan managed to reply.

Soon after this, a young actress named Hydrogen Forbes who had come with Pulverizer, one who was also to portray a Commerce Inspector, found them and announced that there was going to be a friendly fight between the exile dentist and the Chinese researcher. The Indian workers were being allowed to take a break to watch.

"Get someone with a camera!" Pulverizer exclaimed excitedly. "We can build a good improvised scene around that." The use she had in mind for this fortuitous opportunity was one that she knew Isadora would find pleasing: when they had the martial-arts match videocorded, they could then shoot scenes for intercutting, with Pulverizer's character commenting to her fellow policewoman about how the techniques of the fighters were _almost_ worthy to be compared to female prowess.

Alipang cared nothing about any feminist-propaganda purposes to which this occasion might be put; he simply was happy for the chance to stretch his skills against his friend Yang one more time. Both bare-chested, the two men went at it with an audience almost as large as when they had sparred last year. Alipang immediately noticed that Yang was avoiding ordinary attacks in favor of trying to show him every uncommon technique he could think of. Between various non-contact strikes at vulnerable spots on the Filipino's body, the kung-fu man frequently opened the range between them, encouraging Alipang to do more kicking than he was usually prone to do.

Among the onlookers was a man rather more qualified than Pulverizer Clarendon to judge the merits of the men sparring. Kostas Demophilos had his training as a wrestler, but his training included ways for a wrestler to defend against every sort of boxing technique. Noticing Kostas in the crowd, Pulverizer had another inspiration. When Alipang and Yang finally called a halt and happily hugged each other amid loud applause, the actress approached the Forest Ranger.

"Excuse me, Ranger Demophilos, you probably remember me from the movie company. Our male lead has lost a friend, so we'd like to ease this time for him by reducing his workload some. If you would agree to be part of a new scene I'm envisioning, Citizen Salisbury would only be needed for a few lines of dialogue in it, and then he could be done with his part here in Yellowstone...."

 
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Yang Sung-Kuo had now made his combatively affectionate farewells with Alipang; and Peter Tomisaburo was another Enclave resident with whom the Chinese "researcher" was known to have become friendly on his original visit to Wyoming. Thus, when Sung-Kuo contrived to talk with Peter in an out-of-the-way spot, where others would not see the anti-surveillance device he had activated, no one else would suspect that he was receiving a report from a deep-cover Chinese espionage agent. The security of their final meeting was helped, of course, by the spy's ability literally to see any nearby electronic activity of an unexpected nature.

Peter began his report by handing the officer a sheet of paper. "I've written the names, or failing that, the job descriptions, of all the Anti-Gravity Development employees whom I've detected using radio communications in ways, or on frequencies, which didn't seem to fit in with the company's regular communications. These might simply have been private conversations of no concern to us; but I picked up all that I could."

"That was correct of you. Now, why did you put a star beside the first name on your list?"

"For two reasons. One, because this man transmitted on a little-used SHF channel, while all the others shared a different channel well removed from his. Two, because this man spoke in person with Texas Ranger Vasquez, you know, their aviation commander -- and gave him a tablet computer."

Yang Sung-Kuo nodded at this. "A tablet computer which might have contained something of interest, although the Texans are not considered hostiles. And the fact that this one man spoke with an honest law-enforcement officer argues that most likely he is on the side of law himself, and the other workers you noted are criminals, rather than the reverse. I'm not your supervisor, but my advice would be that you not bother with this man, but find out anything else you can about the rest for when Beijing next calls you. India's government is remaining at peace with us; but _America_ may not be the _only_ place where Indian organized crime seeks to fill the vacuum left by the downfall of the Triad gangs."

Peter sighed. "Will Beijing _ever_ extract me and let my family live in China? Or for that matter, in a new undercover post in Japan?"

"I wish I knew. But I'm just your courier of convenience. Oh, and before I forget again: here's that little tool you lent me. It was definitely helpful with pest control;" and he returned Peter's micro-whip to him.

"Well, as before, it was good having _someone_ from China here."

"Thanks. And you'll find that my family has left its mark: my daughters have taught ribbon-banner dancing to quite a few children in Rapid City."

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

The next day, with Yang Sung-Kuo back in the Enclave capital packing up for his family's return flight to China, Alipang resumed providing dental care to workers as needed. Even one Indian woman (not one of the people on Peter's suspect list) came to him for treatment, having heard good things about Alipang. She then proceeded to say good things of her own about him to the Energy Undersecretary, who decided to furnish positive reinforcement by arranging to have Wilson, Esperanza and Brendan brought up to Yellowstone, so that Dr. and Mrs. Havens could continue working here awhile longer without further separation from their first three children.

This matter was still being worked out when the two actresses, now in their Commerce Inspector uniforms, turned up with the Distribution Department camera crew, having received Isadora's texted okay for the new scene Pulverizer had envisioned -- in which both Dan Salisbury and Kostas Demophilos were to appear. The Forest Ranger, interestingly, was clad in civilian clothes.

"This will come right after Hydrogen and I are seen watching the amateurs having their kung-fu match." Here she gestured to her smaller cast-mate. "You, Ranger Demophilos, will be inserted a couple of times during that match, as one of the spectators; we'll shoot those views of you first, just general yelling and cheering. Then, after Hydrogen says to me that Dr. Havens and Mr. Yang -- not by name, of course -- did _fairly_ well -- you will have your first line of dialogue. Here, have a look;" and she gave Kostas her dataphone, which was displaying his assigned words.

" 'What do you chicks know? I could beat those two, AND you two!' " the rugged Greek read aloud.

"Remember, it's your _character_ talking, not you," Hydrogen assured him. "No one thinks _you're_ so un-mutual and chauvinistic."

Pulverizer continued: "Then we'll shoot Citizen Salisbury coming up and trying to talk you out of challenging us, which of course you refuse to listen to. Next, three insert shots of him watching and wincing as you get thumped, followed by his last bit: he looks right into the camera and sighs, 'I _told_ him not to question the superiority of women!' That will mellow the effect of his country-boy character's earlier ignorance about the gravity technology, as he shows some good common sense; and with that, his part in the Yellowstone sequence will be finished, and he can have some time off."

Kostas absorbed this without comment; he had long since learned how to keep the establishment happy. Everything Pulverizer had described was videocorded in very short order. And then it was time for the shots around which all the rest would revolve, as Kostas, pretending to be a backward goon but explicitly allowed to use all his ability, was to wrestle with Pulverizer.

 
Glad to see an update. :)

To choose a name like "Pulverizer" requires...well, an awful lot of self-esteem. Wow.
 
Once Kostas had stripped off his shirt in front of the cameras, which was a shot in itself, Hydrogen interjected, "Just a moment! Pulverizer, what say we get a closeup right now of him crumpling in defeat, so we can stick that on at the end of the bout, just before Citizen Salisbury pronounces the moral to the audience?"

"Not a bad idea," replied the larger woman. "Let's take five or six views from different angles. Ranger Demophilos, do you mind? You won't have to take a fall from a standing start for a close-range view like this; you can start from kneeling or crouching, and drop to the ground pretty easily. Only, don't look dead. I'm not supposed to have killed you."

Kostas nodded, actually starting to feel a bit of the show-business bug infecting him. "No problem. How about if I fall twice onto my face, twice on my back, and twice on one side?"

The musclewoman actually smiled at him. "That sounds good." So that was how they did it. And then, with all the extra bits _really_ attended to, a man strong by nature squared off with a woman strengthened by bioscience. Alipang and Kim were there among the spectators -- and the situation for the movie did not require that the presence of spectators be concealed. (In fact, a spare camera was assigned exclusively to take shots of cheering onlookers.)

Due to his limitations in height and weight, wrestling had never been Alipang's first choice as a way to fight, but he certainly had some acquaintance with it. Kim was watching merely with morbid curiosity, remembering how Ms. Clarendon had tossed around her brother-in-law, though of course Terrance had not been fighting back. But Alipang was watching this as he would watch any fight, as he had even watched Osmawani's play-fight with make-believe mutant zombies: always looking to see what skills others possessed.

What he saw now reinforced his ambivalence about the advancement of the life sciences. Pulverizer Clarendon had, if anything, _less_ actual fighting skill than Osmawani Jalil. Kostas Demophilos was ahead of the actress from the start, anticipating her moves, and choosing moves of his own that should have led to an easy victory for him. _Should_ have... but every time he gained a controlling hold, every time he came close to scoring a pinfall, his adversary pried herself loose by sheer, overwhelming strength. It was unfair, like using a gun against an unarmed victim; and yet, on the other hand, unassisted nature also produced unfair inequalities of power. So Alipang's feelings on the morality of Pulverizer's modifications remained ambivalent. As for the pragmatic side of the subject, the compact Escrimador decided that if he were ever forced to fight this massive woman in life-and-death earnest, he _would_ fight dirty, up to and including putting her eyes out.

Since this theatrical wrestling bout involved no _hitting,_ and since Pulverizer was not really aiming to _hurt_ Kostas, the Forest Ranger kept on trying, which was fine from a cinematic viewpoint, since it produced more footage to work with at editing time. He wasn't gaining any advantage, but at least he was giving her a workout, which would make her own character look better in the finished movie. Simultaneously with assessment of combat skills, Alipang's mind continued looking at all implications of what some laboratory had done with Pulverizer, and how somatic changes produced when she was already a young adult must differ from pre-natal alterations. It could not have been enough _just_ to make her voluntary muscles stronger. The supporting tendons would have needed greater toughness and resilience; her lung capacity, or the oxygen-carrying potential of her blood, or both, would have needed to increase, and so on....

Pulverizer had Kostas hoisted over her head in a show-off helicopter spin. From this she leaned forward, in a manner clearly calculated to drop Kostas to the ground with _less_ of a hard impact for him than it would be made to seem on screen. But as he tumbled from her grip... she did not straighten.

She also did not laugh, as she had laughed a few times during the match. Instead, she let out a strangled groan, and pitched face-first to the ground on top of her opponent.

The actress Hydrogen, the camera crew, and most onlookers froze for a moment in disbelief. But Alipang was already sprinting to the collapsed woman's side, mentally shifting to paramedic mode. He had a strong hunch as to what had felled Pulverizer; and in a moment, he was commencing C.P.R. on her.
 
I was busy being grossed out by Pulverizer...and then she fell over. Things are getting interesting again. :rolleyes: ;)
 
Moving fast, Alipang heaved Pulverizer off of Kostas, which served also to place her on her back where he needed her to be. It was the work of scarcely five seconds to confirm that she had no pulse; and two seconds later, he was performing chest compressions on her. The camera operators did not think to videocord this, nor did they think to do anything useful; but the nearby Kim, joined by Dan, started asking bystanders to help find and alert Felicia Robles, that physician being on duty now in the geothermal construction area.

Getting his breath back, the Forest Ranger propped himself up, saw what Alipang was doing, and said two words to him: "New style?" The older man, on joining the Forestry Service, had learned the older C.P.R. method which included rescue breathing, the method Eric and Harmony Havens had successfully used when Cecilia had her heart attack. But around the time Alipang had grown to manhood, medical professionals had begun favoring a C.P.R. which was all chest compression, maintaining that in the absence of any obstruction to breathing passages, breathing would automatically follow a restored heartbeat.

When Alipang replied with a nod, Kostas next asked, "Want to trade off doing the compressions?"

"If more help doesn't come after three minutes, yes. The Indians have their own paramedic, right?"

"Yes, they do."

Never ceasing his rhythmic pushes at Pulverizer's thorax, Alipang said, "Then please make sure he's called in, as well as Dr. Robles."

"I see the Indians are doing that now."

"Okay, meanwhile you can check for obstruction." Alipang had in mind the shortness of time that a brain could do without oxygen; if his patient didn't resume breathing soon, he would begin adding respiration regardless of the new style. Kostas found the woman's windpipe to be clear; and presently Alipang did start blowing air into Pulverizer's mouth between sets of compressions.

The wait was long enough that he accepted Kostas' offer to take over after three minutes. This was not the fault of either the exile physician or the paramedic with Anti-Gravity Development; this was a sprawling project area, and both persons had happened to be occupied elsewhere at the time the extemporaneous wrestling match had been arranged. But Pulverizer showed a pulse, and faintly resumed breathing, while Alipang was taking his second shift at the C.P.R. She wasn't conscious, but she had backed away from death's door at least a little way.

Dr. Robles came running from one direction, and the Indian paramedic ran up from another direction a few seconds after her. "Doctor Robles!" the man exclaimed, displaying a jet injector. "I have a cardiac restorative you can use!"

Felicia Robles was turning toward him in response, when Alipang uttered his own exclamation: "Wait! Sir, is that restorative safe to use when the patient's heart attack is a result of kidney failure?"

"Yes, it is," replied the Indian. Hearing this, and since Pulverizer was breathing again, Alipang fell silent and got out of the way, while Felicia administered the same formula that had helped his mother. Kim, still carrying Peggy, came alongside him, and they waited to see if the actress was recovering well.

Before long, Pulverizer regained the ability to speak, albeit not with nearly the volume of her usual voice. "Doctor? Did we have an earthquake or something? Is anyone else hurt?" (Her asking about the welfare of others reduced the impression she had given before of being utterly self-centered.)

"No one else is hurt," Felicia assured her. "You had a cardiac arrest. Doctor Havens and Ranger Demophilos brought you around with C.P.R., and we have a cardiac restorative in you now. You need to keep still and rest, but I believe you'll be all right."

Pulverizer tried taking a deeper breath before murmuring, "Thank you, Doctor Robles. And if those two macho males are in hearing, I thank them too. That's one time I'm happy to have been kissed by men, sort of."

"We have our own helicopter that you can use to fly her to Sioux San Hospital," remarked the company paramedic. Soon the medevac flight was being arranged, and Felicia could spare the attention to ask Alipang a question.

"Why did you ask about kidney failure? Did it just come to your mind because you know I'm a nephrologist?"

"It's God's providence that there IS a nephrologist here now," he replied. "But I would have asked anyway. My consciousness has been raised with respect to the cleansing of blood, because of the blood filtering that was part of the cancer treatment performed on my friend Miguel De Soto. And when I was watching Miss Clarendon wrestle, I was thinking about all the metabolism issues that might come with a bio-adjustment like hers. The alteration done to her muscles must have made some change to the proteins in them; and it occurred to me that any change from the proteins God put in, might cause a harder burden on her kidneys. Then, hang me for a vegan if Miss Clarendon didn't keel over within three seconds after I'd had that thought!"

Felicia checked on Pulverizer once more before saying, "For sure, kidney failure leads to heart trouble. As an exile, I may not have the latest information, but my impression is that N.B.I.C. research is far from having reckoned with every possible complication of creating superhumans. In any event, I'll make sure that the hospital staff looks at kidney failure as the presumptive cause of Citizen Clarendon's heart attack."

"Doctor Havens?" Pulverizer groaned. "I have to give you credit... after the way... I treated your sibling Terrance."

Alipang leaned over her. "You didn't really hurt him, and what you did do to him was with his consent. And I saw that you weren't really trying to hurt Kostas, either. If everybody who enjoyed some unfair advantage were as mild about using it as you seem to be, life in general would be a lot easier on people. I'll say a prayer for you to get well.... something which may require a bio-alteration to your kidneys."

The bulky actress actually smiled at him.
 
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