The First Love Of Alipang Havens

Osmawani awoke David early enough that he could dress and sneak out of there before the sun came up; she seemed to consider it a grand joke. But her last several kisses given to him before he departed were no joke at all, and seemed to him like a woman kissing a man whom she really _would_ always love. It was only as he was about to leave that he remembered with shock that it was the ERIC HAVENS house he had to return to. But his hostess dispelled his panic by informing him: "I took care of it last night. Had a _male_ acquaintance let them know that you'd been busy with people involved in the concert, and a room was found in this building for you to stay in overnight. All perfectly true. Eric and Cecilia will never guess that you were caught in the lair of a cougar."

"Of a what?"

"Never mind. You won't want to lie if they ask you directly, so _don't_ lie. Just don't _volunteer_ the facts of what happened between us, and I'll bet you pesos to centavos that they won't even _imagine_ it could have happened, and thus they won't ask you about it. I promise you that I'll never brag about it to anyone; but I'll _remember_ it until I die. And my wish for you is that someday you'll find a girl who's _almost_ as good a lover as I am."

Osmawani proved to have known what she was talking about. Eric and Cecilia, to whom David still did seem like a boy rather than a man, did not suspect what he had been up to. Neither did Alipang and Kim, who had been able to get away from Yellowstone Sector and would be attending the concert. David found genuinely interesting all the anecdotes Alipang and Kim could tell of their experiences at the inprocessing center and the geothermal construction area. When, for his part, he recounted a toned-down version of his last repugnant encounter with his mother, the obvious revulsion he felt over it left his listeners with the impression that he had made the most dramatic disclosure he could possibly have up his sleeve today. So the secret he shared with Osmawani remained a secret that was theirs alone.

Well, theirs and God's. A faint guilt over losing his innocence began taking shape after lunch; but he knew how often his Christian friends talked about God's forgiveness. He resolved that he would at least not _repeat_ the ecstatic night of lovemaking he and the _relatively_ older woman -- the "cougar?" -- had shared.

The night of the Bastille Day concert arrived, and the Havens family was there in force. Even Terrance Havens was in the audience. Harmony wasn't. Harmony was reported to be needed on the job at Earth's Treasures; but David irrationally imagined that she knew about him and Osmawani by magic, and that she was keeping away because of disgust, jealousy or both.

When Osmawani, now beautifully but modestly gowned, had her walk-on and thus was onstage close to David for a minute or so, no one watching them would have guessed what had passed between them less than twenty-four hours earlier. She didn't even toss any special glances his way, only her usual pert and friendly look. David did not say anything to the audience about her succeeding him as promoter, because this was not yet certain, though he believed it would work out.

Samantha Ford couldn't leave her son in peace. During one of the livelier songs, she climbed onto the stage uninvited, and performed her idea of an exotic dance. It actually was not badly done -- provided the onlooker was not her embarrassed teenage son; and everyone tacitly agreed to let her get it out of her system, rather than cause a painful scene by ejecting her forcibly from the stage.

When the show ended to encores and standing ovations, David found that he overwhelmingly _wanted_ to return to Osmawani's bedroom for _that_ sort of encore; but there was the official ensemble party to attend, and then the post-party party with the Havens family. Once the peak of his animal desire had passed, he was able again to be glad that he was with the friends who had done so much for his _spiritual_ happiness. Thus he did not miss the chance of hearing, nor did he fail to feel interest in, the news Alipang had been saving up to tell him:

"You remember they'd been talking about rewarding workers who made major contributions to the powerplant building work. Well, my helping that peculiar woman Pulverizer Clarendon, and that _hag_ Rhoda Gardner, seems to have counted for something with the triumvirate."

"What my brother means," Terrance put in teasingly, "is that he's won the privilege of having Ms. Clarendon beat him up _twice_ in her next Enclave-located movie."

"Don't listen to Terrance," Alipang laughed; "he's just trying to hide his own boundless love and desire for Pulverizer."

"I have to hide it," said the younger brother, "or else Jillian would beat _her_ up."

"Enough!" Kim half-shouted to them, then addressed David: "The Enclave administration came up with a reward based on what they know about our family. We've got Chilena and Melody here now with their husbands and children, which is wonderful; but I still haven't seen my mother and sisters, nor even received mail from them, in the whole time since we were planted in the Enclave. Dan was able to get news of them on the outside, so I would know they were all right, including my sisters' husbands and kids; but I've had no _direct_ contact in over four years."

David raised his eyebrows. "They live in Canada now, don't they?"

"That's correct. And in appreciation for Al helping to save the actress' life, besides his general usefulness as a dentist, the triumvirate is offering to let me _meet_ my Mom, and Baeline, Sharon and Susan!"

"You mean fly them in here?"

Kim's face, while it had never seemed otherwise than beautiful to David, appeared miraculously _younger_ as she spoke. "Even crazier: let me see them on the _outside!_ That is, if Alipang will stay inside the fence as a hostage, I can fly with Wilson, Essie, Brendan and Peggy TO CANADA for maybe a week!"

Thinking of what this must mean for Kim, David listened eagerly to everything she would say about the prospect. He was honestly happy for his friends; and this was helping him NOT to be consumed with wanting more of Osmawani's fabulous loving.
 
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Chapter 119: Escrimador Enhanced

Miguel De Soto was strong enough by now to be almost as active as a man his age who _hadn't_ suffered from Adenoid-Cystic Carcinoma. He had singlehandedly edited the last two editions of the Wyoming Observer; he and Tilly had appeared with Matti Siermaala on a two-part installment of In The Enclave Today, telling a temporarily-returned Denise Heathcock about the successful ultrasonic treatment; and the couple had attended the Bastille Day stun-jazz concert with Eric and Cecilia Havens.

Accordingly, at a triumvirate meeting, the Undersecretaries of Sustainable Energy and Eco-Sensitive Agriculture had outvoted the Undersecretary of Distribution. The result was that Miguel De Soto _would_ be allowed to listen in when Doctor Alipang Havens was briefed on a special reward he was going to receive in _addition_ to his dependents being allowed a trip outside the fence.

On Thursday, July 16, 2026, Texas Ranger pilot Darya Sinkiewicz flew a passenger helicopter to deliver Alipang, his son Wilson, and Miguel to Rapid City. She then went about other business. The exiles' meeting with the Distribution Undersecretary took place in the mountainside cave-headquarters which had formerly belonged to the Overseers.

Even though the Undersecretary knew perfectly well that none of these visitors posed any threat at all to her, and though the point of the meeting was to do Alipang Havens a _favor_ of sorts, it still suited her to keep eight armed Commerce Inspectors in the conference room, just to make herself feel more important after the slight ego-deflation her colleagues had inflicted on her. "Doctor Havens, Citizen De Soto, Pioneer Havens, be seated, and help yourselves to the drinking water." She addressed Wilson as if he were a Diversity Pioneer as a way to hint that she was defining the terms of the conversation, though she knew that the strong-spirited boy would sooner die than subscribe to the tenets of the Pioneers and the Party.

"May I take notes?" asked Miguel -- using his _voice_ again, after all these months. Tissue regeneration had brought him that far by now, though his voice was weaker than it had been before his cancer. Phasing his lungs back into use, while his gill implants continued to oxygenate his blood, had been the most interesting part of his convalescence.

"Yes, you may take notes. But understand that this does not change the order for you to wait for clearance before you publish this in your newspaper."

"Understood, ma'am."

"And I'm still allowed to ask questions, right?" said Alipang.

"Of course; Doctor Havens, as is your bioproduct." She knew that Wilson would not like being called a bioproduct; but in her own perception, this added bit of putting him in his place did not contradict her overall goodwill and benevolent intentions toward the undeniably respectable Havens family.

"Then I ask, what exactly _does_ the administration, or else the Department of Distribution, plan to give me in return for my services in Yellowstone Sector?"

"It really will be the Distribution Department giving you your gift, by way of the Bioscience Management Bureau, with input from the Health Rationing Agency, the Genetic Health Service, the Research Scientists' Union, the Physicians' Union, and the Secondary Healthcare Workers' Union."

Alipang smiled. "S.H.W.U. -- that's my friend Evan Rand's union!"

"So I hear. But to continue. You surely realize that repercussions went rippling out across these communities when Pulverizer Clarendon had her near-fatal heart attack. The blame-placing went on for many days. She had supposedly been modified in _every_ way needed to support her body's use of its enhanced strength; but that exile nephrologist confirmed your speculation, that Ms. Clarendon's _kidneys_ had been unprepared to handle the change in waste proteins that ensued from protein alterations in her muscles.

"Because of this incident -- and, Citizen De Soto, there's no harm in adding that _your_ experience had an effect on the discussion, because you were an example of an internal exile coming through a medical experiment with flying colors -- the organizations concerned have reconsidered many bio-enhancement research projects. Rather than risk losing a promising movie star, in a time when movies are America's chief export to the rest of the world -- they want to use an _exile_ subject for the next enhancement project."

Alipang raised his eyebrows. "I take it you mean me."

"So I do. What the life-science community envisions in your case is not a boost of raw muscular strength such as Ms. Clarendon received..."

Wilson indulged in a slightly impudent interruption: "...because my Papa's _already_ stronger than most people who aren't more than three times his size."

Distribution smiled for the first time in this interview. "That's near enough to true by all accounts, young man; but there's also the consideration that, although you Enclave residents are known to be highly law-abiding, the higher-ups aren't _eager_ to give any dissident an enhancement that would so _obviously_ increase his power to do violence." (She didn't bother mentioning the fact that, even in the general population, it was Party policy to give increased muscle strength only to women -- by way of "proving" that women were _inherently_ stronger than men, at the same time as they still maintained that women were the unfortunate _victims_ of men.)

"So will it be a sensory improvement?" asked Miguel. "Or maybe a boost to his disease resistance?"

"That last is closer. What we plan to give Doctor Havens is a certain enhancement to his body's ability to resist injury. It seems fitting, after the way he _subjected_ himself to injury to protect Tim Govinda of the All-Species Council."

"I believe you mean Tim Govinda of the Supreme Court." Alipang found it even more bizarre for that boy to have been elevated to something NOT playing with circus animals.

"Whatever. We're not going to make you strictly bulletproof, or enable you to grow back lost body parts without a regeneration treatment, but -- well, just let me continue."

 
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At a sign from the Undersecretary, one of the Commerce Inspectors activated a large two-dimensional television screen. He took it on himself to remark to the three exiles: "This is a video presentation on the growth and functions of human skin. It's been prepared as an analog-videotape resource for the new university, and thus was conveniently available for the Undersecretary's use today."

The Undersecretary picked up from there: "Just relax and watch this for a few minutes. Pioneer Havens may find it helpful in thinking about whether he'll want to attend the medical university in the near future." So Alipang, Wilson and Miguel watched the genuinely interesting lesson about skin cells. One part spoke of the fact that a person's hair and fingernails were made of the same kind of cells as the skin. When this part was done, the television was abruptly turned off.

"There, Doctor Havens, is the takeoff point for our plan. Numerous bio-researchers have long been debating over the possibilities of giving a human body some kind of organic _armor_ to take the place of armored garments. Awhile back, in your capacity as a law-enforcement auxiliary with the Grange, you took down a union facilitator who was committing an act of sexist bullying. That man was one who had received certain bone and cartilage reinforcement procedures; while this obviously didn't enable him to beat you in a fight, his attending physician said afterward that she believed his enhancement had saved him from _dying_ by the force of your blows to his midsection.

"Would I be right, Doctor Havens, in supposing that on the occasion I describe, you hit the man as hard as you did _because_ you had guessed that he had some defensive enhancement of that nature?" When Alipang simply nodded, she continued, "All the more cause to regard you as a good subject for a new enhancement experiment, since you have the intelligence to speculate about the benefits it could impart. Studies of what causes the difference in texture between skin and fingernails have led to devising a procedure to make skin FAR stronger, FAR harder to penetrate or damage."

Alipang raised his hand for permission to speak. "Yes, I like to think that I am smart enough to worry about the implications of alleged improvements to the body. Miss Clarendon almost died finding out that adverse effects on her kidneys had not been foreseen when her muscle tissues were altered. And I see a problem that's _easier_ to anticipate. If you change my skin into some kind of leather armor, what if it suffocates me? I'm old enough to have seen the movie Goldfinger before the whole James Bond series was banned for patriarchalism. Although this never made sense to me when it's the _lungs_ that are supposed to aerate the body, it nonetheless is a fact that you can asphyxiate if enough of your skin pores are blocked."

"That," said the Undersecretary, "is where Citizen Clarendon's narrow escape works in your favor. It made the researchers less sure of themselves. The hazard of skin suffocation was brought up at the very start of the skin-hardening project, but all the most eager advocates insisted that the hardened skin would still be able to let air through the pores. Now, they're not so blindly optimistic. Therefore, what we propose for you is to strengthen only a _portion_ of your skin surface, much _less_ than half of the total area."

"Do I get to choose the parts?"

"You are allowed to refuse or consent to _have_ the procedure; but if you consent -- and it will be informed consent -- you must then accept the scientists' judgment."

"So, please give me the information to _make_ it informed consent."

"Of course. They contemplate hardening your skin in places where it's likely to make a real difference to your safety. For instance, people often get hurt in their _hands_ by touching hot or sharp objects; it thus is perfectly reasonable to fortify your hands, enabling you to handle items you normally would have to avoid touching."

"That could certainly have its advantages. But what about the trade-off? Would the sense of touch in my hands be deadened? Would they be less flexible? Remember, I need a _dexterous_ pair of hands to practice dentistry more than I need an _indestructible_ pair. No patient has ever yet tried to bite my fingers off."

"According to all computer simulations, in the very worst case, your hands would not lose more than ten percent of their flexibility, and not more than twenty percent of tactile sensitivity. One special detail: they would _purposely_ reduce the sensitivity to _heat_ in your hardened skin. This, because being heat-resistant in reality wouldn't help you much, if the false _feeling_ of being burned caused you to panic and drop a hot object that wasn't actually damaging your hands at all."

"That makes a sort of sense. What about fingernails? I'd rather not lose the ability to scratch an itch."

"I'm told that you would still have nails. That's toenails as well as fingernails; for your _feet_ are another logical place to reinforce."

"In case I want to walk on burning coals? But seriously, yes, I can see how armored feet could also help me in some emergencies...."

The meeting went on for another hour and a quarter. Prominent in Alipang's mind was the truth which had always been with him since his family had been relocated: the authorities didn't _need_ to do anything subtle if they simply wanted to put him to death, so he didn't have to assume that any action of theirs was based on a _secret_ wish to eliminate him. And as long as there was no _accidental_ hazard such as the matter of the kidneys in Pulverizer's case, Alipang could well believe that he _might_ benefit overall from this experiment. But what finally decided him to consent was not the notion of his becoming some kind of bionic superhero.

It was an intuition of God's will in events.

Throughout the four years and change that he had been an internal exile, Alipang had felt himself to be in the same situation as the prophet Daniel in Babylon. If he remained faithful, then despite his vulnerable position, God would grant him opportunities to accomplish good. This had been happening visibly, especially over the last year and a half: most dramatically, through his being instrumental in ridding the Enclave of the cruel Overseers. He had been so blessed as to be able to gain some favor with persons in power, yet _without_ betraying his faith.

He would have preferred, as a courtesy, to ask for Kim's opinion before he agreed to be experimented on; but the Undersecretary was making it a hard sell. In fact, she hinted strongly that if he _didn't_ agree, Kim and the children would be denied their already-promised chance to visit the Tisdale side of the family in Canada.

So Alipang Havens decided to accept this new adventure. Only after he gave his recorded consent did an amusing thought come to him: if he became able to handle burning objects without injury, this would fit with his joking teenage identity as "The Filipino Fireball."
 
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Meanwhile, with the aftermath of the Bastille Day concert all wrapped up, David Redfern was riding a train back to Rapid City, hoping that upon his arrival he could get confirmation of his request for a new assignment was approved. No one in authority had replied to his texted queries on the subject.

The particular passenger car in which the youth sat contained exclusively male riders, all of them having some connection with government-supervised entertainment. One was a federal office worker who could play the trumpet, and who had thus obtained a slot in the stun-jazz orchestra which desperately needed more brass players. Several others, David knew, had worked in some capacity on filming Geothermal Sites of the Heart. And one was no less than cinema director Zimmo Garland, who had been in the audience at David's concert. Zimmo was the one who had contrived to reserve an all-male car for this run to the Enclave capital -- and likewise the all-female car directly in front of the men's car.

David did not need to see the antics of some fellow passengers to understand that the _last_ thing Zimmo had had in mind when segregating the genders was any gesture of respect for Biblical customs and morals. But he was making it clear to anyone who looked his way that he just wanted to be left alone, and to arrive in Rapid City.

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

Riding in the women's car, Osmawani Jalil was also eager to find out if she would be allowed to succeed her -- boyfriend? -- whatever he was, as manager of the exiles' orchestra. But she did not feel nearly such a keen desire to be left unbothered as David felt. This was just as well for her, since she _wasn't_ being left unbothered. Samantha Ford, occupying the aisle seat to Osmawani's window seat, was physically crowded close to her and verbally talking her ear off. The Malaysian woman bore it calmly; after all, she and Samantha had seen each other undressed, to put it delicately, so she would have felt like a hypocrite if she had objected to her sometime co-star merely leaning close to her on board a train while they were both fully clothed.

"You remember what I told you about Daffy's male gamete-source: the very _distillation_ of scragging, fluking caveman crudeness! The living, grunting _reason_ why the Party is so anxious to stimulate evolution with a progressive redefinition of masculinity! And you know what hopes I've had for Daffy: he could be a standard-bearer, leading a whole generation in an escape from the poisonous vestiges of God-fascist bourgeois tribalism. His involvement in the arts was at worst neutral in that regard, and it _could_ be a positive help in achieving his rightful karma. But if he goes to _Uganda_ and actually lives _with_ his male parent, _everything_ I've accomplished with him will be deleted!" Samantha's arms slid pleadingly around the other woman's neck. "Please, Osmawani, for the sake of all we've done together in the cause of social enlightenment, please, _help_ me! Help me to get my bioproduct back on the evolutionary track!"

We catch more flies with sugar than with vinegar, Osmawani thought, and so she reacted very gently to Samantha's begging. Passing one or her own arms around Samantha's waist, she let their heads rest firmly together as she replied, "I'm sure you know that I do want what's good for David. But isn't the Party _always_ saying that children have to assert their independence from the will of their caregivers?"

"I know, I know, and you're right to remind me. But even if I shouldn't let my Gaia-given maternal devotion play a part here, Daffy and I are still both in the service of the State Department; so surely I'm at least allowed to worry about him as a _colleague?_ His best possibilities are all _here,_ all available to him right where he is, if he would only realize it, and stay here, and if he would only choose a relational initiation and receive his full Party status!"

Pretending not to know about the Freudian suggestion which had recently been made to David, Osmawani said innocently, "But what can I do to help him?"

Samantha gave a profound sigh. "Osmawani, dear, you _can't_ be unaware that my bioproduct finds you attractive. With all the effort I've invested in guiding him toward Party-approved socializing, he _still_ hasn't rid himself of the primitive urges. But if he had the right partner _within_ that paradigm, she could at least buy time for him: time in which he would be kept away longer from that loosh of a _soldier_ in Uganda, time in which karma still might bring along something that would help him over the line to enlightenment. Osmawani, darling, YOU are that partner! I'm asking you to work with Daffy's feelings for you, draw him into a relationship. Then at least he would be with someone _loyal_ to the Party, not some horrid Biblical twit like that sister of Alipang Havens!"

Osmawani placed her mouth next to Samantha's ear. "Let me be sure I understand you, dear. You say that you _want_ me to seduce your son?"

Samantha tightened her arms around Osmawani's neck. "If that will keep him in America and away from Josiah Redfern, then yes, yes, yes! And even though the pleasure you gave him wouldn't meet the requirements for his diversity certification, it _might_ redirect his mind into real-world satisfactions, and make him forget all that _religious_ gutflak!"

Osmawani wanted very much, right now, to reveal that she had _already_ seduced the boy -- and that she had intended this as an act of tenderness, not of manipulation. But she would never willingly do anything that might create new difficulties for the boy who she fervently wished were even a mere five or six years older. So what she said was: "I won't deny that the thought of spending a night with David is delicious to me. But let me try to explain something to you. There's an old saying, 'If you love something, set it free.' I want David to be able to choose his _own_ path. If I used my, uh, skills to attach him to myself, he might one day resent me for slowing him down...."

The two actresses continued this debate at close range for the rest of the railway trip, with inconclusive results -- unless it would count as a "result" that the rumor would start spreading of Osmawani becoming a full-time companion to Samantha. But Osmawani did not encourage this rumor by her actions when they disembarked in Rapid City: she fled immediately from Samantha, joined David, and went with him in search of news about his request.

 
Having the promise of a free return flight with Ranger Sinkiewicz if they could wait until morning, Alipang received a generous overnight invitation for himself, Wilson and Miguel at the home of his family's friend, the pedicab driver Ignacio Balubal. From the Balubal apartment, after supper, they were able to make landline phone calls to both Havens residences, and to the De Soto residence, to tell what they could of the day's events.

It was in speaking to Kim that Alipang came the closest to a total disclosure of what was really going on, telling her: "I feel almost pampered now. You remember that when I got injured protecting David, the administration approved a higher level of medical care for me than an exile would usually get. Well, now that I've helped keep an important macho-girl actress alive, they plan to afford me still more privileged status where my health is concerned."

Kim replied, "That would be part of the _same_ duly-earned goodwill that's allowing me to visit Mom in Canada." She was thereby signalling her husband that she understood that something was being _required_ of him as a condition for the favor to his family of letting Kim and the children travel.

"Right. I won't let _anything_ spoil that for you; and I know that if any journalist in Canada questions you, you won't fail to express our gratitude for the indulgence shown to us." Alipang was acknowledging Kim's acknowledgement.

Kim's telephone voice grew huskier. "Al, did I tell you anytime recently that I love you more than I ever imagined I _could_ love a man?"

"Actually, I sensed that by telepathy," he joked. "I am a superhero, after all." In view of their awareness of bio-enhancement technology, he hoped his joke would give his wife a further clue about what was going to happen to him in her absence.

After this conversation ended, Wilson -- whose own turn on the line with trivial news of the trip for his mother had concluded the phone call -- turned to his father and said, "I just thought of something, Papa. Could we step outside, please?" When father and son were out of hearing of the Balubals, Wilson continued: "I just realized that, according to the promise made to us, I'm going to be given a vacation outside even though I do know what's going to be done to you. Are they just counting on me to keep silent about it for _your_ safety?"

"I believe so, son. And for the safety of your mother and siblings. Anyway, things are in motion now that we can't really control; so we have no choice but to trust God to keep on protecting us from -- well, from _whatever_ might go wrong."

"Yes, Papa, we're fighting with the weapons of the Holy Spirit;" and the sturdy boy fiercely hugged his loved and revered father.

They were back inside the apartment, and an exhausted Miguel had already gone to bed, when an unexpected though not unwelcome visitor showed up: the former Daffodil Ford. "Have I ever got a surprise for you, Dr. Havens!" he declared to Alipang once he was let inside.

"And what would that be?" asked Ignacio, who had opened the door to begin with.

"I'm getting a diplomatic-service transfer!"

"To Uganda?" Wilson asked his friend.

"Unfortunately, no; but it still is for a job that they'll give me _without_ requiring 'proof of relational diversity.' I'm to become an intern with our delegation to the Hemispheric Union."

Alipang smiled. "Well, if God's providence allowed you and your father to see each other even _while_ you were inside the fence, it must also be possible that you'll have some contact with him when you're in South America."

"That's my hope, sir. And there's more: a secretary for the triumvirate looked up that mission's personnel files in her database, and told me that Ambassador Ritisak has an aide whom you know!"

At one instant, Alipang and Wilson respectively blurted "What?" and "Who?"

"The last survivor of an African-American family--" (David's tone conveyed an irony that he knew Alipang would catch) "--that was otherwise _officially_ recorded as wiped out by white-supremacist rioters in 2021."

Alipang's beady eyes went still wider. "You mean Vonetta Ashford? The baby sister of my school friend Sammy?"

"The very same. I'm going to be working with her! So if you hurry up writing a letter to her, one that will pass the usual inspection by the postal censors, I'll be able to place it directly into her hands."

"Why the hurry?"

"Because I'm boarding a plane for Mexico, to catch a faster flight from there to Venezuela, _tomorrow_ afternoon."

"As suddenly as that? What's going to happen to your stun-jazz orchestra?"

"It will continue; they've already chosen my replacement: my fellow Churchbuster of the Galaxy, Osmawani Jalil."

"Have you already said goodbye to your mother?" asked Wilson... to which David replied in a whisper, "More like good riddance. I think she had some hand in my _not_ being assigned to Uganda; but I still believe my new posting is a change for the better."

David's hasty goodbyes with Alipang and Wilson -- after the suggested letter to Vonetta was written -- were as fond and affectionate as his goodbyes with Samantha had been uncomfortable. He entrusted Alipang with a farewell message to Harmony Havens: "Tell her that I'll always treasure the blessing of having been acquainted with her at all, and that I hope she'll have an absolutely awesome life."
 
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When he left the Balubal apartment, although his optimism about the transfer was genuine, David's mental focus was on something else. Alipang leading the others in prayer for him had made him terribly uneasy.... since he couldn't bear to admit to his Christian friends just what he was going to be doing on what would be his last night in the Diversity States for an unknown length of time.

Osmawani, not because of what Samantha wanted but because of her gladness at being given the orchestra-management job, had broken her own resolution to let the one time with David be the only time. She had accordingly _begged_ him to come to her regular living quarters tonight and "celebrate" the good news they had each received. Still inwardly reeling with the intoxication of his first all-the-way experience with a woman, David could no more decline Osmawani's invitation to a repeat performance than a drug addict could refuse his drug.

He had scarcely managed to get inside her door before she was throwing herself into his arms, deluging him with kisses, and leading him back into her universe of impossible delight.

The next morning, as on the first occasion, Osmawani was first to wake up. This time, however, she did not awaken David to let him sneak away in a hurry, but rather to share with him still _more_ of what they had shared for most of the night. Only after this did she consent to speak about anything in the future beyond their insanely delicious tryst.

"Don't worry about the time, darling. The administration already _knows_ you're with me."

"They _know?_" the tall boy gawked.

"Of course! You have an assignment to fly to, after all! Relax, none of them have _any_ objections to you and me grabbing one more night of love. They know I'll make sure you don't miss your plane. So come here, you young earthquake...."

A close clinch with Osmawani disrupted the sense of time; yet their goodbyes had to come at last. When David was packed and ready to embark, Osmawani actually accompanied him to the airport where his propellor-driven Atmosfleet airliner awaited him. At the farthest point she was allowed to come to, she threw her arms around him once again, and there were genuine tears in her eyes.

"Osmawani," the boy murmured into her jet-black hair, "you may think I did you a favor, but what you've given me -- I don't have words for it."

She kissed him hard, then said, "I have words. The system, or anyway the most radical part of the system where human relationships are concerned, tried to make you feel guilty for wanting to be a man with a woman."

"You're right." He kissed her in turn. "And they say _Christians_ deal in guilt!" By saying this much in defense of Biblicals, David could feel that he was making some amends to them for straying a little bit from their standards.

"Well, I sure don't want you to feel guilty. I'm not just flattering you when I say you're the _best_ lover I've ever had; no one else comes close!" They kissed once more. "And the reason is simple: you have a heart. Not many men do anymore. Nor women, to be truthful."

"I'll write to you," he offered hesitantly.

"And I'll cherish any message I do get from you. But now listen, David Redfern, listen carefully. Although you're taking a piece of my soul with you as you leave, it _remains_ true that I'm just not the one to hold a permanent office in your life. It's just karma, or kismet. So the best way I can love you now is to set you free." Another long kiss, with neither of them caring how many bypassers could see them. "You owe me no commitment, no fidelity. Don't assume that I'm waiting for you, either -- though I doubt I'll _ever_ again attract the interest of any guy half as nice as you are. Live your _own_ life; and if you meet a woman closer to your age -- even, say, anywhere in her twenties -- don't _ever_ feel that you're betraying me if you take a chance with her. I'll miss you like anything; but I'll be _happy_ for you if you find a love that can actually work out for you."

If agitated emotions had been airplane fuel, David Redfern could have powered the Mexico-bound airplane by himself.
_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

The flight on Atmosfleet consumed by far the greatest portion of travel time. Though shifting only one time zone eastward, the relatively slow hybrid aircraft would not reach Mexico City until after dark. Along the way, passing close to the New Mexico border and thus to Aztlano airspace, they sighted one of the Texas Bear air-defense planes west of them. David realized that this big plane was on patrol specifically to guard against Aztlano attacks on Diversity States aviation. The fact that the People's Aztec-Maoist Republic was _permitted_ to go on being a regional threat, even though several Western Hemisphere powers were _stronger_ than the renegade nation, prompted the young diplomat to ponder whether diplomacy was doing any good at all.

In Mexico City he transferred to a state-of-the-art Brazilian jet, which took him to Caracas in much less time than the shorter first leg had consumed. It was still night when he walked off his plane in Caracas; but as he had been advised, an aide to Vibol Ritisak was right there to meet him.

In fact, it was _the_ aide: Vonetta Ashford, Alipang's long-lost friend, about whom David had been told. Darker of skin than the flirty girl Skydazzle, Vonetta was also better-looking than Skydazzle, although for the present David was not ready to think of any other woman as equalling Osmawani's beauty. Still, during the flight, he had thought about the reported age difference between Vonetta and Alipang--

A difference which meant that Vonetta was "only" in her twenties. As if, somehow, Osmawani had spoken of women in that age range _intending_ to suggest possibilities for David with Vonetta, of whose existence Osmawani was aware. Harmony Havens was also in her twenties, and had seemed utterly unattainable; but the definition of "unattainable" seemed to have morphed a bit since those two ecstatic nights with Osmawani. Not that David was going to make an idiot of himself; but if possibilities did arise with this not-quite-so-much-older woman, he would be receptive to them.

"Welcome to Venezuela and the Bi-Continental Assembly, Mister Redfern!" It was not lost on David that Vonetta didn't bother calling him Citizen. "I'm Vonetta Ashford, and I've got ground transportation ready for you."

Returning her smile, he fished the letter from a pocket as soon as they had shaken hands. "I'm David Randall Redfern, and what I've got for _you_ is a letter from Alipang Havens."

Her jaw dropped as she accepted the letter from him. "Havens! Alipang! Then you _have_ been with them! I knew they were alive, because I would get occasional news of Chilena and her husband; but that's all I knew. And a _letter_ from good old Al -- this is too good to be true! My friend, I hope you won't mind spending some of your off-duty time with me, because I'll want you to tell me _everything_ you can about the Havens family!"

"That will be my pleasure, Miss Ashford."

"Please, call me Vonetta."

 
Since David was not going to Africa, he could not after all be an escort for Abraham Zondei. But this did not mean that the brave Ghanaian-born pastor didn't receive plenty of attention before he departed from Casper. The Wyoming Observer was not allowed to publish anything about this, because the exposure of Abraham's illegal detention was an embarrassment to the Rainbow House, even though the injustice had been done by a previous President. But all sorts of people who cared about him went to great pains to make sure they spoke with him once more before he was repatriated. Among these were John and Felicity Waddell, Bill and Lorraine Shao, Sarbar and Dalbir Pitafi, Reuben Torvill, Frodo Von Spock, and of course everyone in the extended Havens family.

In the last conversation he had with Eric Havens, Abraham Zondei remarked, "Since the sanctity of the family is one of the issues for which you exiles _got_ exiled in the first place, I shouldn't feel guilty in front of _you_ for putting family first. But I do feel as if I'm betraying you, bailing out to freedom while the rest of you _can't_ bail out."

Eric lovingly grasped his friend's strong arms. "Well, _don't_ feel guilty! Your daughter needs you, and you deserve the satisfaction of being with her again. Think of what a blessing it's been for Avery Glass to have his son with him in addition to his daughter! Although we _will_ miss your anointed sermons, my own daughter is arranging for another good man of God to fill our pulpit here." Eric was referring to the initiative Chilena was taking to enable her own former pastor, Wayne Schell, to move away from the often-violent community of Georgetown and assume the leadership of the Church of the Faithful. Something he _didn't_ refer to was the possibility that, after being reunited with Molly, Abraham would very possibly find meaningful opportunities to speak to people in the outside world about just how irrational and unfair the Fairness Party regime truly was. Eric didn't want to jinx this possibility by speaking about it in a city full of surveillance gear.

Still, all went well with Pastor Zondei's leave-taking. And Lieutenant Emilio Vasquez undertook to _guarantee_ that it went well. On his own authority, he caused Abraham to be transported out of the Western Enclave by Texas Ranger flyers; and the Rangers didn't let Abraham out of their sight until, at the Philadelphia airport, they placed him on board a spaceplane belonging to an African airline.

The Rangers also were concerned that the minister's liberation should not be jinxed in any way. After all, his being free to tell the truth about the D.S.A. was coming at the same time as the secret army was beginning to disseminate the indictments of that regime recorded by Miguel De Soto.
_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

Kim Havens had one more Sunday to enjoy worship at the Sussex Gospel Church with Peter Ionesco preaching, before she and her children would set out on the first excursion of its kind to be granted to any internal exiles since the Enclave had been founded. (The former Ma'at Wazir, of course, had been allowed to _leave_ the Enclave, but she had not been placed on her honor to _return_ to the Enclave.)

Before the last hymn was sung, Pastor Ionesco called Alipang, Kim, Wilson, Esperanza, Brendan, and Baby Peggy up to the front. He led a congregational prayer of sending, then began to offer individual blessings:

"Kimberly Havens, you are a Proverbs 31 woman, and a role model for the younger women around you, blending strength with kindness and wisdom. God has used you here; He will use you in Canada; and He will use you after you come back to us. May His providence ensure that you not only travel safely, but enjoy fabulous blessings.

"Wilson Havens, you have your father's courage and integrity. May our _Heavenly_ Father guide you in everything you do while you are away from us, so that your _earthly_ Papa will be able to continue being as proud of you as he already is.

"Esperanza Havens, you combine sweetness with a keen intelligence. May the Holy Spirit gift you with all the insight and attentiveness necessary to make this journey profitable to you, so that you will continue to develop the virtues of the Biblical Abigail.

"Brendan Havens, you bear the name of a friend of your father, a friend who is brave and strong _like_ your father. May God continue to increase your own strength and bravery -- while also permitting you to _enjoy_ your childhood. Tell your Grandmother Tisdale, and your aunts and uncles and cousins, hello from all of us here.

"Peggy Havens, though you are too young to understand a blessing, you yourself _are_ a blessing. May Our Lord, Who always welcomed children and Who sternly warned whoever might exploit them, keep you in His tender care by day and night, protecting you from all harm and evil, as you grow up to know Him. The love of your parents for you is a reflection of _God's_ love; and may nothing prevent you from quickly learning to appreciate this.

"Finally, Alipang Havens, my warrior brother! You are one who _has_ resisted unto the shedding of your own blood. You are a father and husband so true to the duties of love, that your presence here is enough to draw your wife, daughters and sons to return to you when their privileged excursion ends. May God cause you _always_ to maintain that faithful righteousness which makes prisoners willing to return to prison rather than forsake you. Like the prophet Daniel who is your inspiration, may you keep your commitment to God whether you are alone or with others. And may your joy be doubled and tripled when your wife and children return to you safely. I speak all this in the name of our Savior Jesus Christ."

That night, Alipang and Kim had no chance at all for intimacy, because the children wanted to stay close to their Papa on this last night before the trip to Canada. So a sort of indoor campout ensued, reminding Alipang of old times in Smoky Lake. But by a few secret, silent touches exchanged after the children fell asleep, Alipang and Kim promised each other that there _would_ be new sessions of marital passion after the vacation was over.

And, within his mind, Alipang prayed that the alterations to be done on him would not in any way impair his conjugal relations with Kim. There was not _supposed_ to be any adverse effect in that area; but then, Pulverizer Clarendon wasn't _supposed_ to suffer kidney failure either.
 
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Chapter 120: Peace, the Pause to Reload

Five men, representing the five largest gangs in the People's Aztec-Maoist Republic, came to a mansion in San Francisco to meet with President Emilio Formentera and the two most important women in his life: his sister and sounding board Lupita Formentera, and his lover Jessica Trevette, whom he addressed as Jacinta when persons not in on the secret were around. The five gang leaders were among the small handful of persons allowed to know who Jessica really was. (The fact that she had always had her broadcast image altered while she was President of the Diversity States was helpful to Jessica in moving around now that she was supposed to be dead.) And such signs of trust from the side of El Presidente de Aztlan helped assuage the feelings of the gang bosses over the fact that they weren't allowed to have their own bodyguards at meetings like this one.

The gangs represented were:

Los Flechadores ("Archers"), who controlled those military combat aircraft which were not under the direct control of the Aztec-Maoist Party. They felt they had a score to settle with the Texas Rangers for killing Flechadores in aerial combat; the fact that the Rangers had been defending against unprovoked aggression didn't matter in the gangsters' minds.

Los Malignos ("Demons"), who handled all such heavy ground-combat ordnance as was available to Aztlano gangsters. The Chinese, upon the formation of Aztlan, had confiscated all U.S. Army main-battle tanks and heavy artillery that had been based or mothballed within Aztlano territory; but the Aztlanos had been permitted to keep the armored infantry fighting vehicles and some lighter artillery.

Los Bucaneros ("Buccaneers"), who operated maritime patrol and rescue aircraft, along with former Coast Guard surface vessels. They also had a part in espionage and secret diplomacy, which was how Bucanero member Felipe Contreras had come to be the courier who met with Samantha Ford in Canada the year before.

Los Picadores (from the term for a bullfighter's assistants), who handled much of what would be called outright criminal activity if this activity had not been lifeblood for the Aztec-Maoist Republic. Apart from what was directly handled by Formentera's government, they were in charge of the low-life amusements offered to low-life tourists. The fact that these tourists might blab useful information while being wined and dined, without needing to be forced in any way, gave Los Picadores a role of their own in intelligence collection.

Los Lagartos ("Lizards" or "Alligators"), who supervised the workers in the potash mines, as well as supervising many of the skilled professionals who had been kidnapped from the Diversity States (or had never gotten out of Aztlan in the first place). They were the only one of the Aztlano gangs who had within their own ranks a significant number of persons with engineeering skills; accordingly, they had always contributed to the work of making breaches in the D.S.-Aztlano border fence.

Each of these major gangs had three or more lesser gangs subordinated to it, the sub-gangs being divided either by job specialty or by the location of its operations. But naturally, the Party kept enough total manpower and hardware under its own control that, when combined with rivalry between gangs, there was very little chance that any one gang would ever be able to overthrow the Formentera dynasty. Not that they wanted to at present; the Formenteras had given them the successful-thug lifestyle they cherished.

When Emilio Formentera's bodyguards ushered the five kingpins into the conference room, they saw Formentera seated with Lupita on his right and Jessica on his left. Also present were El Presidente's trusted man Vinu Dandekar, and the Indian mafia leader Swapnil Vamsa -- the latter having two bodyguards of his own on hand by Formentera's consent.

"Buenas dias, compadres!" Formentera exclaimed cordially. "Please take your seats. When you're all comfortable, Vinu is going to brief all of us on what our mini-drones have been able to find out about the state of affairs in the gringos' Western Enclave."

"Especially, of course, in Yellowstone Sector, where they have been so kindly building a new electrical power complex for our benefit," remarked Lupita.

Rising from his seat, Vinu switched on a large video screen; holographic equipment was rare enough in Aztlan that it was only used where it was really needed, and two-dimensional imagery would suffice for this briefing. The gang leaders beheld a computer-generated aerial view, as if seen from a very low-flying airplane. "This is the geyser area of the Yellowstone Caldera. While our enemies intend to establish no fewer than four interconnected geothermal power plants, our little robot spies confirmed that they are hurrying to get ONE plant into actual use as soon as possible, without waiting to do them all concurrently. Their Energy Department is anxious to convince the Fairness Party that the whole geothermal project is worthwhile."

"Of course, WE know that it IS worthwhile," smirked Formentera, patting Jessica on the shoulder, "or we wouldn't be planning to take it away from them."

"The first power plant to go online," Vinu continued, "is not to be simply given a number like the existing Enclave generating stations. It will have the dignity of an actual name: the Spirit Smoke Station. This, deriving from a Native American term for the geysers. We are still working on estimates of how long it will take for them to have ALL the planned stations up and putting out current."

"Is this process of estimating the basis for deciding how soon we attack?" asked the chief of Los Lagartos.

"That is part of it. There will be other considerations: the rate at which our need for power increases, plus practical factors like the weather."

"Speaking of weather, we've got the armored vehicles for the strike from Colorado hidden in Thompson Canyon," put in the chief of Los Malignos. "If the attack has to be put off until after winter, we'll need to take measures to protect them from weather damage while they're waiting."

"All that will be discussed," Formentera assured him. "Vinu, continue."
 
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Vinu put up a view of Old Natrona Airport, which was now the home base of the Texas Ranger Enclave Aviation Detachment. "This facility in Casper, as some of you already know, is where the gringos keep those modest air-combat assets, all rotary-wing, that they are holding full time in the Enclave. Just two armed helicopters: one state-of-the-art Great Condor, and one much older and simpler gunship; and a scout helicopter with a targetting laser. Not to say that they can't carry some form of weaponry on other aircraft besides; and they now have the capability to service the repurposed Tu-95 airplanes there."

Jessica now interjected: "The circumstances which led to my being forced to allow some re-armament in the Diversity States were such as to put all the eggs in the aviation basket. They have no corresponding improvements in ground forces, to say nothing of restoring their Navy." She spoke up knowing that no one in the room was going to direct a vendetta against her for the Aztlano aviators who had gotten a taste of their own homicidal medicine. If she had not made _some_ little pretense of defending her own country while she was President there, it would have been harder for her to stay in office long enough to shape events in a way that favored her _true_ loyalty -- to the Aztec-Maoist Party. As it was, the Diversity States was now more than ever placing its reliance on the Enclave workforce to rebuild its industrial base; and the Enclave was vulnerable to attack.

Emilio Formentera picked up Jessica's thread of thought: "Thus, you Malignos should be able to punch through the Enclave easily, seizing Yellowstone and the rest of the electrical-power network, provided that you have enough air-defense capability to stop the Texas Rangers."

"And they _will_ have it," said Mister Vamsa. "My people are handling the multi-step re-purchasing of the railgun ammunition that originated in the Enclave's own recycling complex and was sold to the Egyptian and Babylonian Caliphates. And you have seen that I was right about manufacturing railguns of a _modest_ caliber, scarcely any bigger than the man-portable variety. The Triads were too ambitious, wanting strategic-level arms based here. Small railguns, without a more sophisticated firecontrol suite than is really necessary, won't attract nearly so much interest from Beijing; yet they will still be good enough to bring down airborne targets that are so poor in evasive maneuverability as those Tu-95's are."

Formentera now looked at the chief of Los Bucaneros. "Are you on schedule with your part in the provocation plan?"

"Yes, we are. Felipe has the gringos thinking he's their best friend; and he's established a working relationship with Swapnil's agent Chida Govinda." The Bucanero leader allowed his tone to suggest that Felipe and Chida had a working relationship the way Formentera and Jessica Trevette had a working relationship. Swapnil Vamsa took no offense, because he knew that Felipe and Chida actually did have the same kind of relationship now. Swapnil did, however, change the subject, just to move things along: "Vinu, what is the status of our spy drones now?"

"Unfortunately, after the attempt the Triads made against that Chinese officer who was in the Enclave, the Rangers and other police entities went on the alert against mini-drones. As of today, we have just one left. The rest either were destroyed by the Rangers, or had to self-destruct to avoid capture."

"So we'll hold that last one in reserve," said Formentera to Swapnil. "I realize that your syndicate is hesitant to try slipping any more mini-drones to us, lest your own government crack down on you for it. But I'm confident that we have enough intelligence gathered by now that our plans can proceed. Vinu, would you please ask Mister Asif to come in? And all of you, I remind you that Mister Asif is not cleared to know all aspects of our strategy; so let him say his piece, and let me decide what facts can be told to him."

 
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The man whom Vinu Dandekar now admitted to the secure conference room, Jabir Asif, was an Arab ethnically, but a citizen of Turkmenistan in the Central Asian Caliphate. Outwardly, he was a merchant; actually, he was more of a mercenary. While never shy about murdering any infidels who _weren't_ on his side at a given time, he was not so fanatical as to show any annoyance at Jessica and Lupita being unveiled and allowed to speak with men. He knew which side his bread was buttered on.

The Central Asian Caliphate as a whole had its bread buttered on the side of good behavior. Since, of the four Caliphates, it was farthest removed geographically from Saudi Arabia, it had the least hope of ever seizing control of Mecca. At the same time, it was the only Caliphate that actually bordered Greater China, and so felt the most immediate pressure from Beijing to behave itself. The Chinese had previously taken military action to halt Central Asian support to Muslim separatists in China's western regions, and the Central Asians had not forgotten the lesson. But this didn't mean that some enterprising individual in this Caliphate couldn't take advantage of the very fact that his government was minding its manners, to remain unsuspected as he ran his own mercenary game.

Emilio Formentera rose to greet his guest in the Turkmen language, then invited him to give his report. Jabir did so in proficient Spanish:

"The faithful in the Great Lakes Cantonment have not ceased to be furious over the murder of their Imam-Governor. There are multiple interpretations among them of the _cause_ for their outrage. Some -- the ones most inclined to live and let live with unbelievers -- admire the late Imam's refusal to join in a hunt for non-existent 'Ku Klux Quakers.' These are angry at everyone who ever worked for the Campaign Against Hate, but are not extending this anger to all outsiders indiscriminately. Many others, possibly a majority, are as wildly agitated as we could ever have wished, blaming _every_ non-Muslim everywhere for the assassination. A few are angry only at the man who succeeded Al-Farag in the position of Imam-Governor; and a few say that it was Al-Farag's own fault that he died, because he was not pure enough spiritually.

"What matters most of all is that they _are_ boiling with rage. And, while I have long agreed with your judgment that we should avoid using chemical or virological weapons in this operation, my agents _have_ been slipping people the antidote for the lithium formula the D.S.A. uses to keep them calm." Jabir Asif was just sexist enough not to want to give credit openly to Jessica Trevette for providing that antidote to him.

"Good so far," said Lupita, who was aware of Jessica's contribution in that area, and was not going to let Mr. Asif get by without ever having to speak directly to a woman. "What's the status of weapon shipments?"

With Lupita's brother looking straight at him, Jabir was not going to reply in any other way than courteously. "My computer experts back home have successfully tampered with records of old armaments consigned to scrapping, so no one in authority realizes that we helped ourselves to some perfectly workable weapons. My shipping company workers have by now smuggled enough weapon components up the Saint Lawrence Seaway for our agents in place to assemble into a total of six hundred conventional assault rifles, seven hundred flechette pistols, twenty 75-millimeter mortars and thirty 55-millimeter mortars, one hundred infrasonic-shock satchel charges, and ten anti-aircraft launchers with five missiles apiece. The shipments were divided about evenly between Duluth and Chicago."

Jessica smiled at Lupita, then put her own oar in: "Sounds like enough to open the dance. How soon can your men be ready to start the insurrection?"

"Within three days of my returning to Chicago to oversee the final preparations, though they won't start shooting till I get clear. _That_ part hasn't changed, has it?"

"Of course not," Formentera assured him. "Now, do you have any recommendations beyond those you've made so far?"

"Yes, my friend, I do. In view of the existence of the Cantonment faction I mentioned which _isn't_ categorically angry at the _whole_ D.S. population, I recommend that we minimize offensive action on the D.S. side of the Cantonment, and aim all our serious assaults against the Canadians. This should make it easier for the hesitant faction to let itself be drawn into the regional jihad along with everyone else."

Swapnil nodded, and turned toward Formentera. "I think he's right. After all, Canada is far more of a military threat to us, and would intervene against _any_ Cantonment uprising; so we might as well do our damage to Canadian targets, in the hope of keeping them too busy to intervene when we launch the _real_ mission against the Western Enclave and the Yellowstone Caldera. I can offer several assassination and sabotage teams to enhance the effectiveness of our incursions onto Canadian soil."

Discussion of tactics and timing went on for another hour, with the gang chiefs now taking part. When Jabir Asif took his leave, it was with instructions to see to his men's readiness, but not to let them start the uprising until he received a definite go-ahead.

Only when the smuggler-agitator was gone did the chief of Los Picadores bring up a small, anticlimactic piece of business. "Por favor, mi Presidente, there is a man of my following who has a special request. May I have him brought in?"

 
Standing in a waiting room, too worked up to sit, was the man to whom the Picador chief had referred. Raul Pasquale was no relation to the Sergeant Pasquale in the Western Enclave's contingent of Transport Police; but he had lived much of his childhood in the old United States. Specifically, in the state of Maryland, whose government had given a blank check to illegal aliens. His whole extended family had been associated with a criminal gang that had preyed upon law-abiding fellow Hispanics without a qualm; but now that he was in the service of the People's Aztec-Maoist Republic, it was in his best interests to pretend that he had always held sacred the mighty solidarity of The Race.

His direct membership was in a small gang called Los Coyotes Gordos. The "Fat Coyotes" handled vice operations for Los Picadores in the former state of Utah, catering to the appetites both of local big shots and of gangsters from South America or Asia. Raul enjoyed toying with Mormon women whose families had not managed to escape from Utah before the Aztec-Maoist Liberation. He would tell them that they ought to regard their current enslavement as a step up in the world. Mormon men in the past had been allowed more than one woman; but now, by the kindness of the Formentera regime, this inequality was reversed, and today's Mormon women could have more than one man!

A Picador, an aide to that gang's boss, brought Raul the welcome news that his audience was granted. Nothing was said to Raul, or would be said, about the just-finished visit by Mr. Asif; Aztlan did have the concept of need to know. But what Raul cared about was now within his reach. After profusely thanking both El Presidente and the Picador chief, he began explaining himself.

"As you may know, I grew up loyally serving The Race on the Atlantic coast, as did my father, my brothers and other relatives. In the year 2008, my big brother Clemente was part of an operation in northern Virginia. They had recruited a gringo named Garth Bollinger, a trucking dispatcher, to assist in diverting valuable freight shipments under the cover of staged highway accidents. It was a lucrative procedure, and less of an obvious target for the police than drug smuggling. But Senor Bollinger got careless, and was found out. Not being of The Race, he had no loyalty to us that would prevent him from testifying against our people to save himself; and the dirty gringos had him well protected. So it was necessary to obtain a lever to control him and keep him quiet.

"My brother Clemente was my hero; I was only nine years old at the time. When he was assigned to help kidnap Senor Bollinger's girlfriend, I _knew_ he would succeed. But his going out on that job was to be the last time I ever saw him alive. All because of a maldito Flip!"

Emilio Formentera, quietly listening, found this intriguing. He had heard that many of the Coyotes Gordos cherished a hatred for Filipinos. He had supposed that this was due to regarding the Filipinos as a sort of imperfect imitation of Hispanics. But now the real explanation seemed to be forthcoming, for several of Raul Pasquale's relatives were in the same gang as he, and they would naturally share any ethnic hatred that Raul felt.

Raul's narrative slid more into obscenity as he continued: "Two others went with my brother to a ________ Flip restaurant in a little town called Smoky Lake, searching for the girl to be taken. If she was there, Clemente and one of the others were to make the grab, while the third man kept the getaway car running. She _was_ there, and so was her own younger sister. That younger sister was the __________ of a Flip working at the restaurant. _His_ name was -- IS -- Alipang Havens.

"All accounts I've ever been able to obtain of what happened then, seem ________ impossible. They say that, even though my brother and his friends were all carrying, this Havens _______ took them all down by himself! Only one of the three even survived to tell of it, but he didn't really see what happened, because the ________ Flip sprayed something into his eyes and temporarily blinded him.

"What others reported was that Havens got hold of one of the guns and shot the getaway driver, then actually _beat_ Clemente Pasquale in a _knife_ fight! That's the most unbelievable part. My brother was ________ magic with a blade!"

At this point, something about the silence of his exalted listeners shook Raul's confidence a little. The vehemence dropped out of his voice. "Senor Presidente, ladies, gentlemen, you do believe me, don't you?"

What Jessica Trevette chose to do to put the petty thug at ease had mixed results where his being at ease was concerned. Rising from her seat, and showing a serene certainty that her lover would not be offended by what she was doing, she went gliding up to Raul, kissed him sensuously, and caressed him even more sensuously, before telling him: "We do believe you, amigo. I happen to have heard of the very same Filipino man you are describing. He resides in the Western Enclave, Wyoming Sector."

"Si, Senorita, I too have learned this, from a video of a gringo news program that came into my hands." Raul was trying simultaneously to avoid offending Jessica by seeming _not_ to have enjoyed her attention, _and_ to avoid offending Formentera by seeming to have enjoyed it _too_ much. Not that Raul was in on the secret of who El Presidente's mistress actually was; but he did know how cautious a man had to be in the presence of the ruling class.

As Jessica was returning to her chair, Formentera -- who did not in fact hold it against Raul that Jessica had played with him a bit -- said, "Alipang Havens first got himself into the news by helping survivors of a plane crash inside the Enclave. I assume that's the video you saw." (Raul nodded.) "Next, he gained some favor with the previous Diversity States administration by helping to expose the treacherous actions of Chief Justice Sherman Lake. But all the same, he is a Christian, and a man sold out to the white supremacists. Therefore I'm not surprised that a faithful man of The Race might have a score to settle with him. Did you have more to tell us?"

"Gracias, mi Presidente, so I do. I believe that Havens was part of a plan by gringo police, or maybe by white-supremacist death squads, to assassinate members of our association. Probably, if my brother's surviving friend had been _able_ to see, he would have seen the _______ white hit men running in to help Havens kill Clemente and the driver. That was how my relatives saw it, anyway. So, after a period of lying low, two of my older cousins got the okay to take revenge on Havens for our losses. It was to be done on that _______'s wedding night with his ________ girlfriend. But again, the _______ Flip was helped by someone, doubtless more white supremacists; and my cousins were _also_ killed!"

The Picador chief, sympathetic to Raul but wondering if Raul might not be overdoing the details, interjected: "In short, Senor Formentera, my friend here desires to be included in the forces that will invade Wyoming from Colorado, and to be allowed if possible to avenge his family's losses."

Formentera smiled. "That's only reasonable. Raul, pay attention to what I say. I _will_ assign you to some role in the liberation of Wyoming and Yellowstone from the racist capitalists; but understand that operational necessities have to determine what _any_ individual in our forces is able to do. If it is realistically possible, I promise that you will be permitted to kill Alipang Havens, and some or all of his relatives besides."

Raul's ugly face brightened. "Muchas gracias, mi jefe, that is all I could ask of you!"
 
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Eventually the gang members took their leave, and so did Swapnil Vamsa. Emilio Formentera then told his bodyguards that they could take a break. When only he, Jessica, Lupita and Vinu remained in the conference room, Jessica said to Vinu, "Now, Mister Dandekar, we're going to let you in on something which neither Mister Vamsa, nor any of the gang chiefs, knows about. It's a little hole card that we're keeping to ourselves."

Emilio affectionately slapped Vinu's back. "Your saving my sister's life in Hawaii was the biggest single thing convincing me that I could trust you so completely as to show you this."

Lupita activated a secret door, which allowed the four of them to descend an equally secret spiral staircase. Vinu gathered that the very opening of the door sent a signal to someone in the basement; for there was a middle-age African-American woman, wearing a lab coat, there to meet them as they emerged into a medium-sized medical laboratory. Vinu further noted that this woman's face bespoke resigned obedience, rather than positive delight in working for El Presidente. This was no surprise, when a black woman was working in a militantly Hispanic-supremacist society. I wonder if she has family members being held hostage to ensure her obedience? Vinu wondered, but he felt no need to ask his master about this.

"Well, Nora, are they conscious yet?" Emilio asked the scientist -- doing her the courtesy of addressing her in English. This little detail, his _not_ forcing her to use Spanish, suggested to Vinu that perhaps Emilio valued her enough to treat her kindly.

"Conscious, but not yet able to move: just as you wanted," said Nora.

Emilio smiled. "Excellent! If all conditions are normal, you can take your supper break now. After that, just make your routine checks, and you can have the rest of the evening off."

"Thank you, sir;" and Nora left the room by a different door.

Lupita could tell that Vinu was curious about Nora, so she told him: "Nora Daley was one of the educated professionals our Party 'recruited' last year from the Great Plains Federal District. She now has a dormant Executioner Virus camped out in her bloodstream, one which will never go active unless a certain radio-frequency signal permeates her body. It's a great help to employer-employee relationships."

"In all probability, I _won't_ ever activate the virus in her," Emilio put in. "She's been a good girl. But the same virus just might be put to work on the gentlemen you see lying on those tables over there. It will be up to them."

The foursome now approached the two men who lay in Frankenstein fashion on what seemed to be surgical tables. Both men were white; one of them looked familiar to Vinu.

"Excuse me, sir, but this man here looks like someone I would have seen while I was a D.S. Marshal. Can't quite place him, but...."

"You're not wrong," said Emilio. "Both men have been given slight alterations to their faces, nothing huge, only enough change that a _casual_ glance won't declare their identities. It's fitting to make _some_ change, because they've begun a new life. The one who looks familiar to you is Vitaly Khloponin, former Commander of the Campaign Against Hate. The other is a former Pinkshirt, Fidel North."

Having only been coherent for a minute or two, Fidel turned his head a bit -- the most physical movement he was currently capable of --when he heard the name of his old boss. "Commander Khloponin, is that you?" he groaned. "What's happened to us?"

Vitaly's only response was a rumble of what sounded like obscenities in Russian.

"I'm the one to give you answers, Senores," Emilio announced, again in English. "I am President Emilio Formentera of Aztlan. The two of you have been kept comatose ever since your simulated deaths. Your own President had every reason to have _really_ put you to death, since both of you were involved in schemes not authorized by her. But by a joyous miracle, Jessica Trevette is as alive as you are, so it is not too late for you to redeem yourselves in her eyes. Jessica?"

Jessica leaned over Fidel and then Vitaly, to bestow a mocking kiss on each. "Citizen Khloponin, you are definitely aware of the experiments in magnifying human muscular strength. Back in the Diversity States, the Party wanted this to be done _only_ on women, as a way to play out feminist grudges. But I don't hate men the way so many of my Fairness Party sisters do; I'm all in favor of creating superhuman males, as long as they're on my side."

Lupita now spoke to Vinu, but in English, and loudly enough that the two captives would be sure to hear: "My brother wants to have his own private battalion of super-strong men who are loyal only to him, and whose existence is not even suspected by the gang chiefs. You know, just in case. Doctor Nora Daley, helped by data files that Ms. Trevette was able to supply to her, has been working to duplicate and even improve the strengthening procedure. But she has to go slowly. During the time these men were asleep, a female recipient of the treatment nearly died of kidney failure, which alerted the scientists that they had not sufficiently dealt with the hazards of the process. Nora _thinks_ she has the kidney problem corrected now; but before President Formentera asks any of his faithful guards to undergo the change, we need a couple of trial subjects."

"I believe you men heard what my sister just said," Emilio told the helpless captives. "You are those trial subjects. If you die, too bad, you were already officially dead. But if you live, you can serve me as fully-accepted members of my security force, with no punishment for your past misdeeds in the Diversity States."

"That sounds like the best offer we're going to get," replied Vitaly. "I assume you have means of ensuring our loyalty."

"Smart man. You know what an Executioner Virus is. You and Mister North each have one inside you. It will remain dormant and harmless unless a particular trigger, known to me and a few others, is used. But this is actually a liberating thing for you both. Since you will know that you can never turn against me without falling down dead, you won't waste your time hatching any mutinous plots. And you'll find that I offer positive as well as negative reinforcements. If you survive the experiments and enter my service, you'll find that you are allowed plenty of recreation. Sometimes, your duties themselves will be entertaining -- as when we allow you to torture captured Jews and Christians, or the occasional rebellious Apache."
 
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No offense taken. I'm just glad to have someone comment! ACTUAL villains in ACTUAL history have routinely been perceived as absurd, even clownish, by rivals who underestimated them, or by potential victims who failed to see the danger. And Mister Lewis himself observed that when an evildoer is not in a position to terrify us, he WILL be seen as ridiculous (note Rabadash).

But if we were actually INSIDE the situation of my story, with someone like Emilio Formentera targetting us, we would not be laughing when the invasion began.
 
Chapter 121: While Alipang Was Sleeping

Alipang's admission to Sioux San Hospital occasioned a more complete family reunion than different family members' different obligations usually allowed all at one time. The Enclave triumvirate had received the okay from the Party Presidium to allow Alipang's family to be told nearly everything about his impending enhancement procedure.

On the same floor where Alipang had previously enjoyed the privilege of tissue regeneration after his mauling by Nash Dockerty's thugs, they gathered: Eric, Cecilia, Harmony and Terrance Havens; Dan, Chilena, Cecilia, Tommy and Irene Salisbury; and Emilio, Melody and Douglas Vasquez. Because he was acquainted with the family, Matti Siermaala was permitted to be the explainer. One of the principal scientists involved in the actual enhancement, a woman from the Bioresearch Management Bureau named Integer Swift, would introduce herself when they entered the room where Alipang lay waiting.

In the initial moments of greeting, Matti shook hands first of all with Emilio -- because he trusted Emilio, more than all the others, to pick up smoothly on something secret. For Matti had a thrice-folded slip of paper concealed in his palm, and this went to Emilio's palm. As Matti had hoped, the Ranger detachment leader accepted the message without showing any sign to unwelcome onlookers; and Matti proceeded to greet the others.

The first question was asked by Cecilia the elder, who over the years had endured as much worry for her first son's life as if he were a soldier at war: "Have they put him under yet?"

"Not fully. He's sedated enough to relax and anaesthetize him while they start inserting feeder needles; just think of this as acupuncture. He'll still be able to hear you and reply. I'm covering technical stuff here, so that when you see him, he won't be bothered with trying to answer _every_ conceivable question himself in his lethargic state. They won't actually render him unconscious until you've all had your chance to wish him well."

"All right," said Terrance, "can you tell us the _exact_ areas of skin that will be toughened?"

"Certainly. Both hands, with a portion of the forearms almost halfway to the elbows. Both feet, with coverage a bit less than halfway up the calves. A sort of collar around his throat and collarbone; Doctor Swift felt that was a natural area for a knife fighter to want to have shielded. And a patch on the inner surface of each thigh."

Eric nodded. "To protect his femoral arteries."

"Exactly. Doctor Swift and her colleagues considered also protecting his reproductive region; but what is a _slight_ impairment to skin elasticity elsewhere would be a _major_ inconvenience there. Kimberly might never forgive us."

To head off anatomy-related questions from the youngest of her nieces and nephews, Harmony raised a question of her own: "Just how permanent is Al's enhancement going to be?"

"Unless changed back by an equally complex procedure, it will be with him all of his days. But in a rhythmic fashion. The newly-designed skin tissue will have a molting cycle, much like the skin of a snake."

"Now, _that's_ ironic," Dan remarked. He knew that all of the Havenses would recognize what he had in mind; but with an improvisational actor's quickness, he realized that the Finnish scientist _didn't_ know what he meant. So he added: "Al has eaten snake meat for much of his life."

"All right. Not something we were accustomed to in Finland, you'll understand. Anyway, the modified skin cells will die about every twenty-two days, and fall off in flakes. For one day after that, an ordinary skin surface will be exposed; then on the next two days after that, the protective skin will grow back rapidly, thus making a twenty-five-day cycle overall."

"Will all the protected areas do their molting at the same time?" asked Melody.

"Excellent question, Mrs. Vasquez. Your brother was interested in the same question. Doctor Swift said to him, 'Of all affected parts of your body, your feet would seem to be the parts _most_ in need of being synchronized for their molting. Not much good having _one_ foot immune to burning if you're compelled to walk across hot coals.' Then Alipang said to her, 'Yet at least it _might_ be possible to hop across on one foot, as opposed to having one or two days when _both_ feet were vulnerable at the same time.' They seemed to be giving him a say in this, but he was torn over which way to prefer; so he finally asked them to toss a coin." Matti smiled. "Being cashless citizens, they had to be _reminded_ that coins are still used in the Enclave."

"But _which_ way did it end up?" Chilena demanded.

"It ended up in favor of staggered molting for his feet. They'll go to work on his left foot concurrently with other parts, but postpone the start on his right foot for three or four days. Thus he'll _always_ have at least one foot protected." He paused, then lowered his voice. "It's _possible_ that, over time, his body will adapt further, so that skin cells from his protected body parts _won't_ fall off in slabs, but fall off the same way as any other epidermal cells, thus making his protection continuous. That would be best, but I can't guarantee it."

When Alipang's relations were satisfied that they had been told enough about the science involved, they asked to see the patient. Alipang was deluged with kisses, handclasps, prayers, good wishes and parental pride. Amid this, he managed to come up with one joke: "All of you have to promise never to _say_ to Kim that this molting business reminds you of a snake. Otherwise, she'll refuse to sleep in the same room with me from now on."

It was only later, when he deemed it safe, that Emilio Vasquez opened and read the note from Professor Siermaala. It read:

"When I did an ultrasound scan of Alipang's body for preparatory purposes, I took advantage of my device NOT being computerized -- that is, of it not leaving records of its imaging in any data cloud. So the others don't know that I searched Alipang for microchip implants or nanobots. As of this time, he has none inside him, which tends to confirm that the authorities here don't feel the need to plant a tracking beacon inside every exile. But although no one is saying so explicitly, I strongly suspect that they _will_ put a tracking chip inside him now, since he's becoming a more special asset. We can only hope that his future circumstances don't give him cause to wish that he could hide from them."

"Amen to that, amigo," Emilio softly muttered.
 
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Though the data overload that Eric, Cecilia and the others with them experienced in connection with Alipang's enhancement procedure was massive, it was rivalled by the data overload that Kimberly Havens experienced when she began to learn all that had been happening with her side of the family. She had at least gotten to meet the husbands of her sisters at one time or another before the downfall of the United States, but contact had already begun tapering off before that overthrow, leaving Kim with plenty to find out now. Focussing on this prevented her mind from being overwhelmed by the simple yet profound fact of her now being _outside_ the reservation of dissenters.

Unlike any part of the Diversity States other than the Western Enclave, Canada still treated stand-alone private residences as a normal and acceptable thing. Thus, a Quebec-born gentleman by the name of Maurice LeGrand, a highly successful data-cloud manager, was able to own a palatial house in the suburbs of Winnipeg. He shared this house with his wife, the former Baeline Tisdale, and with the eleven-year-old daughter, ten-year-old son and seven-year-old son she had borne to him.

Maurice had met Baeline in 2013, on a business trip to Virginia, while the United States had still existed; when their acquaintance reached the point of love and marriage, Maurice had urged Baeline's extended family to move to Canada, because of his own forebodings of what was going to happen to the United States. The Eric Havens and Alipang Havens households had been determined to stick it out where they were, but had given their blessings to the emigration of Kim's mother and sisters. Upon settling in the Winnipeg area with her new husband, Baeline had found that he had _understated_ his affluence; he proceeded to buy a neighboring property, then hired builders to perform new construction that combined the two houses into one house far larger than the combined space of the original separate houses. This mansion (with its own domestic staff) was now easily able to accommodate everyone else who had congregated for the joyful occasion of Kim Tisdale Havens being allowed to visit Canada with her children.

Arriving ahead of Kim herself had been Susan, one of the twins who were Kim's eldest siblings, accompanied by her husband Zahid Harun and their children: boy-girl-girl, exactly opposite to Baeline's brood. Though not nearly so tyrannical about population as the Diversity States was, the Canadian government did _prefer_ for people not to beget more than three children. Zahid was a former Muslim from France, who had become a Christian after experiencing a vision of Jesus. As this happened before the Islamic Realm of Europe was consolidated, the new believer had been able to escape to Canada fairly easily. Obtaining employment with the corporation for which Maurice worked, Zahid had eventually been introduced to Maurice's sister-in-law Susan. His conversion testimony had gone a long way toward getting Susan's mother in his corner.

The complete households of Baeline and Susan had been present to welcome Kim, Wilson, Esperanza, Brendan and Peggy at Winnipeg's airport, where Diversity States Marshals had handed off to Canadian authorities the responsibility for the furloughed Enclave exiles. The rest of Kim's relatives had arrived on the following day, as they had to come from South American countries. These had their own stories....

About two years after Susan had first met Zahid, her twin sister Sharon had been managing a restaurant when Federico Trujillo, a Chilean businessman having no direct dealings with Maurice's company, had come in for lunch with some Canadian associates. Though sixteen years her senior, Federico had fallen hard for Sharon, and had shown his good intentions by courting her in a gracious way that won the approval of her whole family; he had even gone to Virginia to meet Kim and win her approval. Federico was a widower, with a fourteen-year-old son by his deceased wife; the boy, Pepe, was with him on the visit to Virginia. For purposes of disarming any misgivings Sharon had about family blending, Federico had found allies in Eric and Cecilia Havens, who could point out that they had successfully raised _five_ children who were all completely unrelated to each other by blood. By now, Sharon had a nine-year-old son of her own body, called Orlando, besides her stepson.

At the time Sharon married Federico and moved to Chile with him, her mother Elizabeth Tisdale had been living with Baeline and Maurice. Elizabeth, deserted so long ago by her husband Harvey Tisdale, had never found another love.... until Providence, working through Sharon and Federico, had served up a grand surprise for her.

Flying down to Chile for a visit at Federico's expense, Elizabeth had been introduced by him to a certain Esteban Zapata, a representative of Federico's company who ran their office in Argentina. Esteban was Elizabeth's age, and shared with her the experience of being abandoned by an unfaithful spouse. Esteban's wife Ilana had left him in 2003, albeit not _quite_ exactly for the same reason as Harvey Tisdale had left Elizabeth. Harvey had left one woman for another woman; Ilana Zapata had left a man in favor of supposedly "finding her true identity." She had even persuaded their two daughters (who by now were adults) to follow the same heterophobic "non-breeder" path. Consequently, Esteban had no grandchildren.

Astonished to find a suitable man desiring her at her age, and astonished at herself for being able to accept him and trust him, Elizabeth had taken the risk of marriage again -- and this time, had _not_ been disappointed. On her wedding day with Esteban, she had remarked to her daughters, "There's some cosmic-balance thing in this: a woman in Argentina stole your father from me, and now Argentina has provided a replacement!"

Kim had been happy to know of her mother's overdue compensation for past wrongs endured; and she had been able to meet Esteban once, at the wedding in South America. But when the households of Sharon and Elizabeth had landed in Winnipeg, Kim had learned something that had not come to her knowledge up to now, something that everyone had been holding off telling her so she could see for herself.

In the year 2022, with some help from state-of-the-art fertility science.... Elizabeth Tisdale Zapata had given birth to a healthy child.

The first _boy_ she had ever borne: Javier Zapata.

When Kim was introduced to her four-year-old nephew, she had asked her mother, "Am I imagining it, or did you purposely give him a name sounding similar to the name Harvey?"

"It was on purpose. Esteban's idea, in fact; a sort of sarcastic way to thumb our noses at my ex."

So now, with all this multitude of long-lost relations to keep track of, Kim was giving an extra share of her attention to her half-brother Javier, who except for Baby Peggy was the youngest child of the lot. This, because Kim remembered well what grief her despised biological father had caused to her mother, and Javier was a living symbol of healing and restoration. She never bothered to ask whether her mother had picked up any word of that runaway father since moving to South America, and Elizabeth was letting the subject stay dead. Apart from intermittent prayers for his ultimate salvation from Hell, Harvey Tisdale deserved no place in the thoughts of those he had forsaken.
 
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During the first two days of the visit, Kim said hardly anything, and her children said scarcely more than she did, about the place and people they had left behind. Baeline, Susan, Sharon and the rest all took this to signify that Kim was undergoing so great a culture shock as to be compared to a person coming out of sensory deprivation. An alien world, though not a hostile one, was around her now. She had known of the _existence_ of things like robotic passenger aircraft and public parks with holographic scenery, but she had not herself _seen_ such modern features anytime in the last four and a half years. She had all this to take in, on top of the input-flood entailed by seeing all these relatives at last, so she needed to absorb and process the modern world more urgently than she needed to tell her own story.

Kim's mother, siblings and other kinsfolk were partially correct in this belief; but there was another element besides. For more than half of her period of exile, Kim had lived in fear of seeing her husband and children murdered on a whim by the Overseers. Although the Overseers were now disbanded, she was not confident that her husband back in the Enclave would be exempt from cruel reprisals if she were known to have spoken critically of the Fairness Party regime to anyone in Canada.

On the third day, before supper, Kim called a private meeting with her own children. Giving them a mild hint of her apprehensions, she told them: "Wilson, Essie, Brendan, tonight we _will_ start telling more about our life in Wyoming. But listen carefully: you three are to say _nothing_ about the mirror-men, or about any of the people who made rules and gave orders, or about the way the bad guys lied about Christians, or about the time Henry Spafford got kidnapped. You can talk about our house, about Grandpa Eric's house, about our horses, about your Papa's work as a dentist, about my acupuncture, about Papa's hunting with the Grange, about Mr. De Soto's newspaper, about your homeschooling, about the friends you play with, and I suppose about meeting Yang Sung-Kuo's family. Try not to talk about anything but those things; let me handle the rest."

Supper was of course loaded with conversation, but the Havens children did as their mother had asked, and even managed to sound as if they _weren't_ avoiding any subjects. The nearest thing to a gaffe was when Esperanza remarked to the lady of the house: "Aunt Baeline, I've been wanting to say, I was surprised to see that you get to eat meat here. I kind of thought that inside the Enclave was the _only_ place left where people didn't have to eat stuff like tofu and seaweed all the time." This produced no worse result than gentle chuckles around the table.

As the meal progressed, however, Kim herself came to feel a little bolder in what she disclosed. Since the late, unlamented Nash Dockerty was someone officially discredited and repudiated, she decided it was all right to relate some of the facts of Alipang's role in bringing Dockerty down. This also led naturally to telling about Alipang's friendship with young Daffodil Ford, now known as David Redfern.

Shortly after David was first mentioned, Maurice interjected, "I've heard that boy's name on streamcast news. Something about his involvement in arranging entertainment for a banquet being held by Ambassador Ritisak."

Kim smiled. "Yes, David proved to have a talent for planning such things;" and she digressed into telling them about the Blue Moon Stun Jazz Orchestra and Chorus.

The whole time until all the children went to bed was filled with good conversation, and nothing Kim could see as perilous. But she was to receive a bit of a shock _after_ the children were all out of hearing. The adults were enjoying their respective preferences of wine, beer, tea, coffee, or the Canadian equivalent of Joy Nectar, when Esteban suddenly said, "Kim, although you didn't mention it, I am aware of the case of that Egyptian-American woman who married the visiting Australian, and was able to get _out_ of the Diversity States _with_ her children. You, Kim, don't have the advantage of an outside husband with political clout; but you do have some in-laws with _financial_ clout." He looked at Elizabeth before continuing: "Would you like us to see if we can get you and your children freed _permanently_ from the Western Enclave?"

Kim involuntarily bristled. "What are you saying -- that I should _leave_ Alipang stuck there without us, and let him face whatever consequences our defection might bring?"

Elizabeth glared at her husband for an instant, then stepped in: "Kim, dear, Esteban _couldn't_ have meant for you to _abandon_ Al, now _could_ you, Esteban?"

Esteban's look was not that of an immoral man surprised at being rebuked for an immoral suggestion; it was the look of a man who suddenly realizes that he has done a poor job of saying what he meant. "Oh! Forgive me, Kim! I'm so sorry for making you think that was my thought! After having been betrayed myself, I wouldn't urge other married persons to be unfaithful. I didn't mean it that way! What I _meant_ was that, while keeping you here with us, we could start taking steps to persuade the Atkinson administration to allow Alipang to emigrate also. Your freedom would start immediately, while waiting for your husband to be set free; that's why I spoke only of you and your children being free. I'm sorry, I'm just more accustomed to talking about business."

Kim's anger subsided almost as quickly as it had arisen. "It's all right, Esteban, I believe you about the way you meant it. And I thank you, I thank _everyone_ who's in on the idea with you. But I'm afraid there's an important part of the story which I haven't told you. I wasn't _going_ to tell you about it, because it's a thing being kept quiet, if not strictly secret. They'll _never_ let Alipang leave the Enclave... because he has become an experimental subject. A laboratory animal. Before I say more, all of you have to promise me that you won't tell anyone else about it."

Obtaining this promise, Kim told them what was being done to Alipang. When she had finished, Susan told her, "I've heard that they already have people in China and India with modifications like that. So the American researchers are playing catch-up, not doing something really new."

"That's what the former United States has come to: a minor-league also-ran," said Sharon.

"But it still is an important step _within_ their little world," replied Kim. "So they _won't_ let Al go. At least not anytime soon. Which means that my children and I _must_ return to him when this visit is over."

"Let's give thanks to the Lord Jesus that we've been granted _even_ one such visit," said Zahid.

 
"One of last week's intake batch turned out to be a Mormon, complete with claiming to have Melchizedek Priesthood," Texas Ranger Dave Swims-in-Flood was saying to Rip Falkirk, the latter being the one aircraft mechanic among the recent reinforcements that Lieutenant Vasquez's aviation detachment had received. "So Victoria glommed on to him and forgot all about me. That goes-both-ways physician's assistant was sorry to see Victoria paired off, but I sure was relieved."

Dave was no longer needed up in Yellowstone Sector for the near future. He and Rip were now at the former Ellsworth Air Force Base in Rapid City to check out a four-engine prop-driven utility-transport plane which was being retired from Atmosfleet. If Rip judged that it could be gotten in good enough working order, the Rangers would be unopposed claimants for its use. Emilio Vasquez had been wishing he had at least one large cargo plane at his disposal, so he could move equipment and supplies around in quantity without having to rely on other agencies.

The two Rangers were passing through the Ellsworth passenger terminal on their way to the hangar containing the transport plane, when they heard an elderly-sounding woman's voice, asking in a pleading tone: "Please, doesn't anyone here know Josiah Redfern? He was here on a business errand, from Uganda. Don't you know him? Can't anyone tell me how to--" Her voice was interrupted by a younger, harsher female voice, mixing obscenities with something about staying in line.

"I know that woman!" Dave hissed. "I mean, the nasty one. She's one of the Transport Police, much less likeable than most of them. Let's have a look."
With Rip following, he headed for the sound.

Almost immediately, they realized that the persons in front of them were a small contingent of newly-arrived exiles. If they were being in-processed here, and not at the Northern Cheyenne Reservation, they weren't slated to work on the geothermal project. And indeed, at a closer glance, all of them appeared too old for construction work.

Perhaps the oldest newcomer in the crowd was the woman who apparently was the one looking for Josiah; for the Transport policewoman familiar (and repugnant) to Dave was shaking her by the shoulders, while spewing more curses at her. Dave hastily whispered to Rip, "When you've seen what I'm going to do, tell me I'm going the wrong way, and the hangar's the other way." Rip nodded.

Walking up at the Transport policewoman's four o'clock, Dave caught hold of _her_ shoulders with vice-like hands, lifted her clean off the floor before she knew what was happening, and said in a mock-apologetic tone, "Ex-cuuuuze me, I need to get by here," as he set her down two meters away with her face turned away from the old lady. As the bullying cop was turning around, Dave went three more strides in the direction he had been heading; then Rip exclaimed, "Wait, Swimmer! The hangar's the other direction."

"Danged if you ain't right," replied the Cherokee. He timed his own turn to make it appear accidental when he got right in the face of the uniformed woman as she was just getting started demanding to know what he thought he was doing. Grabbing her again with greater quickness than he had yet shown, he moved her to one side, saying, "Sorry, Officer Bergen, I'm a bit mixed up."

Transport Police Officer Lottie Bergen happened to be the same woman who had once threatened to incinerate the Rosenbaum family's sheep, and had been talked out of it by Bert Randall. Accustomed to getting away with bullying male exiles because they knew she was allowed to shoot them, she failed to reckon with the different conditions involved in getting physical with a Texas Ranger of _either_ sex. She tried to launch a snap kick into Dave's classic vulnerable area; but he simply knocked her kick aside with his right knee. When she staggered from the unexpected parry, he caught hold of her again, turning her the same way she was staggering and hustling her several meters away from the old woman. As he did this, he spoke amiably: "Thanks for helping me look for the way I'm going; but I just remembered. I'm supposed to be meeting one of the latest exiles -- the same one you were picking on. I'll take care of her processing; you go ahead with the rest of them."

For an instant, Lottie Bergen wanted to draw her sidearm on the sturdy Texan; but then she noticed that the _other_ Texan somehow already had his own weapon out of the holster, though not pointed at her. Looking as innocent as a baby calf, Rip Falkirk said to his friend, "Hey, Dave, am I seeing things, or is there a spot of rust on my piece?"

"Get out, Rip, you know it's made with no ferrous metal. Come on, let's quit wasting Officer Bergen's time." Contemptuously turning their backs on the shrewish bully, both men walked up to the rescued victim. To _her_ they both doffed their hats in the manner of true Texas gentlemen.

"Welcome to South Dakota, ma'am. I'm Texas Ranger David Swimmer, on local assignment, and this is Ranger Rip Falkirk. We Rangers have more dealings with non-D.S. citizens than most law-enforcement personnel have, and as a corollary we keep track of persons _acquainted_ with any such. As soon as we help you get your entry recorded and find out what housing unit they're putting you in for tonight, we can talk about how you happen to know Josiah Redfern. But first things first; we don't want anyone saying we _weren't_ properly expediting intake." Rip was already taking over the carrying of the one valise the old woman possessed.

Most of the Transport Police having a much friendlier relationship with the Texas Rangers, Bergen's superiors gave her little satisfaction when she complained about the interference with her "enforcement of discipline."
_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

A little over an hour later, with Rip having started the inspection of the airplane, Dave sat with Mrs. Estelle Upton on a bench in front of her assigned short-term lodgings. As they drank bottles of Joy Nectar which Dave had bought, Mrs. Upton explained how it was that she knew Josiah Redfern:

"Josiah was a pre-medical student at the small college in New York City where my husband Charles taught. He enrolled in the fall term of 2008, this being not long after his tour of duty in Iraq. Josiah was older than most of the students, and a _great_ deal wiser than most of them; he and Charles became friends, even though circumstances never allowed Josiah to go on and earn his M.D.--"

"Because he married a fellow student named Melody," Dave interjected. "By chance, the same first name as my commanding officer's wife."

The grandmotherly lady's weak eyes widened. "So you do know Josiah!"

"Very slightly. His medical-technology team had some dealings with us Rangers. He and Brendan Hyland had to leave, but Professor Siermaala is still around. Do you know him as well?"

"I'm afraid not. But oh dear, I _wish_ I could have seen Josiah! I don't think he even knows that Charles passed away..." (she lowered her voice) "... by an _accident_ at the time of the Fairness Party takeover."

"I know of such 'accidents,' ma'am," Dave sighed. "But was Mister Redfern your _only_ reason for wanting to be here?" One thing the Ranger had picked up during the in-processing was that Estelle was a case of _requesting_ exile.

"Half of the reason. The other reason was that I was one of a number of seniors who were told that moving to the Enclave was our only alternative to having the completion of our lives celebrated to the glory of Mother Gaia and the great circle of life."
 
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