The First Love Of Alipang Havens

In a mostly-unused school auditorium in one of North Dakota Sector's small towns, State Department employees Bailey Melville and Moonrose Quickpace had gathered eighteen of the Enclave's most recently-relocated exile children, aged from seven to twelve, to orient them to Equalityball. The children, already knowing of the game's existence, had been enticed by the promise of new clothing, since they and their siblings and parents had arrived at Ellsworth Airfield or Saint Labre School with only two changes of issued clothing plus winter coats and flimsy boots.

The new clothing offered in the auditorium consisted of red Pioneer neckerchiefs, and jackets whose backs were emblazoned with the words, "THE COLLECTIVE IS ALL." Getting the children lined up to receive items in their sizes, Bailey enthused: "You see, we try to make sure you can still enjoy the best features of life outside the Enclave."

The youngsters did not complain about the fashion statement; clothes were clothes.

There ensued a demonstration of Equalityball, in which the two heterophobic women, with arms around each other's waists as if they were in the Rockettes, kicked two soccer balls ahead of themselves in unison, up one aisle of the auditorium and down another. After this, Moonrose told the young audience, "We're going to experiment with something new in the sport this month: separate teams for boys and girls. After all, everyone really is better off with members of their own gender. In fact, right now we're going to show you something that will help you get in the right spirit."

On a two-dimensional video screen, Moonrose and Bailey began playing a lengthy video that made it very clear what they regarded as the right spirit.

Several of the children stared in ambivalent fascination; but the majority, led by the eldest girl among them, stood up and started out of the auditorium. "You can't leave!" cried a surprised Bailey. "You'll forfeit your scarves and jackets!"

At this, the mutinous children dropped these items back on the table where they had lain, then continued out the door.

"Stop! You can't do that, it's un-mutual!" shouted Moonrose. She and Bailey both dashed out in pursuit....

.... to behold a man and woman in Forest Ranger uniforms, accompanied by a black-and-white border collie.

"Citizen Melville, Citizen Quickpace," growled Mark Terrell, "you are exceeding your job description. You're not authorized to force any exile to be present at any activity of yours."

"Nor are you authorized to show these kids what the database told us you were going to show them," added Dana Pickering Terrell.

"But it's educational!" protested Moonrose.

"Maybe in Zimmo Garland's educational system," Dana retorted. "But it's triumvirate policy that, in most instances, exiles are not to be coerced into doing or accepting anything strongly hostile to their values. And both of you already know that. It's a shame Daffy wasn't around anymore to remind you."

"This is meddling!" Bailey suddenly screeched. "You spied on us! You have no right to interfere!"

"Now, that's funny," said Mark. "We expect exiles, in fact all citizens, to accept being under surveillance all the time. Are you two not citizens?"

Just then, Whiplash the enhanced border collie trotted into the old school building by the auditorium entrance. Going straight to the stage, he carefully closed his jaws on the power cord for the video screen, doing nothing that would cause him to suffer electric shock, and pulled the plug out of the socket.

Of course, what had been showing was of no interest at all to him.
 
President Megavolt Atkinson had really been looking forward to partying with her female bodyguards at the women-only club Hecate's Hangout; but in view of her being President and what all, she reluctantly decided that she had better deal with the priority-flagged information that had come in just after her early supper at the Rainbow House. And since misery loves company, she tracked down her part-time lover and full-time political ally, Vice-President Reed Harrison. He was already at his men-only club, Dashing Dukes, when the summons reached him.

Once Meg and Reed were alone together in a shielded office, Meg played for her sole male consort a comms recording, in the voice of Texas Ranger Zorah Lodge. (Lieutenant Jessup had allowed Zorah to make the report -- both in order to give her credit for first noticing the situation, and because he expected that Party officials would sooner listen to a woman than to a man.)

"To the President and the Party Presidium, classified Top Secret Sensitive: this is Texas Ranger aviator Zorah Lodge speaking, submitting a communications intercept report. The attached audiovisual, radio-spectrum and stream-printer data detail a sudden upsurge of internal military and paramilitary communications in the Aztec-Maoist Republic of Aztlan. This upsurge began less than one minute after the conclusion of the animal rights-related speech given in Seattle by Supreme Court Chief Justice Timothy Govinda. It is known that Govinda's speech was seen and heard on the Libertad de Aztlan multi-media network.

"The Aztlanos appear to have improved their encryption; consequently, we do not know what was being said among them. But by following the sequence of who called whom and when, we speculate that Aztlano forces are preparing to execute, or at least to threaten, a military strike across their border with Wyoming, using Govinda's criticism of their culture as a pretext.

"The Aztlanos of course have never attacked in that direction before, since this might damage the power lines by which the Diversity States provides them with electricity. It is possible, however, that they now are hoping for a new source of outside help, which might make them confident that they can weather a temporary national brownout. If so, they may believe that they can extort new concessions from us by threatening to target missiles on our Western Enclave power stations.

"You will shortly be receiving, by a separate channel, the recommendations of Captain Finnegan for discontinuing the Great Lakes Cantonment protective mission and relocating Ranger air-defense assets to the Enclave and its immediate surroundings.

"As an addendum, the Northwest Federal District Police have advised us that the Chief Justice's advisor, Felipe Contreras, has left the country."

As soon as the introductory voice message was finished, Meg and Reed gave a cursory perusal to the cryptological data, though much of it was over their heads. Then Reed asked, "So, shall we do as the Texans recommend?"

Meg's reply, though not angry, was quick and firm: "Of course not! The current mission of the 'Sky Rangers' is far more important, because it affects the social stability of the whole national collective!"

"But Meg, we both _know_ that there is not, never was, and isn't going to be, any possibility of Judeo-Christian mobs invading the Muslim Cantonment to commit hate crimes."

As a preventive measure against any estrangement between them, the President leaned in and kissed the Vice-President before saying, "Reed, you've been with the Party long enough to know that facts must _always_ be subordinated to the agenda. We've eased up on the Biblicals in many ways, because of their value to us as the most reliable and motivated workforce. I want to continue this leniency; but we dare not let it go so far that they think they can commit serious acts of disobedience. _That's_ why we promoted the pretense that we believe in a threat of Judeo-Christian Islamophobic violence -- to keep the Biblicals worried just enough. Isn't it better merely to keep them aware that a crackdown against them _could_ happen, than to stage an _actual_ crackdown that impairs their economic productivity?"

"I suppose. But what _will_ you want to do if in fact the Aztlanos threaten to damage our infrastructure?"

"The logical thing, the thing that expresses the Fairness Party spirit: punish someone on our own side, then promise to double the supply of electrical power going to Aztlan. If they had ever been paying us for the power, we could make it free henceforth; as it is, with the 'racist' Tim Govinda being disbarred, they should be happy."

Reed laughed. "The other members of the Supreme Court should be even happier, to be rid of that bizarre brat."

 
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Chapter 125: Learn Something Every Day

The nature of the new Grange assignment did not require the use of horses. Alipang, and other Grange volunteers nominally under his command, arrived at the Gas Hills uranium complex by train. Since Alipang had only had to come from as far as Thermopolis, most Grangers well known to him were not on his train. The only familiar faces were Chung Sun-Kim and Ladira Garvey, of whom the latter was to be one of three rotating female bodyguards who would be staying right alongside the supposedly-endangered Salwa Jalalu, to the point even of one always sleeping in her quarters at night. Ladira and Sun-Kim were sitting within talking range of Alipang, while the window seat next to him held a Granger he had never met at all: a young man of partial Crow Indian ancestry, named Owen MacRory, who looked like a compact version of Henry Spafford. (Henry would be coming down later as part of a relief contingent.)

"I confess I've never been close to a uranium refinery before," Alipang told the others; "nor even happened to read much about them, though I do know how a nuclear power plant runs."

Owen, who had been recommended for this operation by a Grange man who had been at the conference with Alipang in Thermopolis, grabbed his chance to speak up and be helpful. "My family lives near the nuke-power plants west of Gas Hills; we do animal control ranging from there to the southwest corner of the Enclave perimeter. We often visit the Gas Hills complex to buy and sell stuff. The first time I saw the evaporation ponds, and heard what they're for, I got scared that I was going to get cancer or turn into a mutant zombie out of the old movies."

"Those are for evaporating water that was in contact with the actual uranium, aren't they?" said Sun-Kim. "I don't blame you for being uneasy -- though obviously you're not worried now."

"They assured me that it's _only_ the water that rises into the atmosphere; the uranium stays where it is, and gets processed further."

"Then does that mean they make a slurry down in the tunnels, like with potash mining?" asked Alipang.

"Yes. It's called in situ mining. Water is pumped _into_ the mine shafts to dissolve the ore, then the uranium slurry is pumped up to the evaporation ponds to dry out. They call the mixture a 'pregnant' solution, which sounds dumb to me, but that's what they call it. And that's how they get the uranium out of the ground."

"I hear that before the Fairness Revolution, Gas Hills had open-pit mining," put in Ladira.

"So they did. But apparently in situ is considered more eco-friendly."

Ladira changed the subject, now addressing Alipang: "Doctor Havens, all of us know that there _isn't_ any racist Islamophobic plot to break into Gas Hills and murder this Jalalu lady. Do you think that it's a cover story to increase protection FOR THE MINING COMPLEX ITSELF, like if someone wanted to sabotage that?"

Alipang shrugged. "It's possible. In fact, that makes _more_ sense than accepting that the triumvirate _still_ imagines big secret Christian lynch mobs lurking behind every tree, even after the Ku Klux Quaker nonsense was exploded. What do you think, Owen? Did any rumors ever come your way about threats to the energy industry hereabouts?"

"Not openly. But I spoke to your Texas Ranger brother-in-law two days ago when he came by our settlement, and he spoke of looking for more ways to keep watch against anyone coming at us from Aztlan, by air or otherwise."

Sun-Kim snorted. "God knows, back before China ate up the Koreas, the North Koreans never would quit sending infiltrators against us. Here, with our own oversized North Korea to the south and west of us, I think Lieutenant Vasquez is right to be on his guard."

The four Grange volunteers kept up this discussion for the remaining quarter-hour of their train ride. At the Gas Hills railway platform, then, they were met by no less a person than Energy Ombudsman Bill Shao.
 
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"Great to see you!" Bill exclaimed, shaking Alipang's hand first of all. "I need some friendly company, since my job won't let me be with Lorraine."

"She's with Ransom now, right?"

"That's right. Spending time with him before he gets actually baptized into the Amish faith. She jokes that, since when he's baptized Ransom will be as good as married to Lydia, her visit with him constitutes his bachelor party. Says that a visit from his Mom constitutes a tame enough bachelor party for even the stuffiest Amish person to find permissible."

Alipang did not reveal what he had heard about Samantha Ford's recently offered notion of quality time with the now-escaped David. Let normal thoughts of mother-love be guarded against the bad taste Samantha's Freudian suggestion would impart. Aloud, he replied: "It isn't as if the Reinharts _wouldn't_ let Ransom see his Mom often enough even after he _actually_ marries Lydia."

"True; but Lorraine's told me that she's sure it'll still feel different once he's officially Amish and she isn't."

Alipang sighed. "No doubt. But as Ransom's Dad once remarked to me, you can't step in the same river twice, because the water moves. Anyway, speaking of water--" He pointed at the refinery buildings nearest to where they were standing. "Are those the pumping stations for the mine slurry?"

"No, they're the primary and backup denitrification stations for the wastewater; sort of downstream in the process."

"Um, if you say so. But to get back to matters more within my competence: my party includes three more men and one woman besides the four of us you see; those others are in a far-end car that hasn't come even with this little platform yet. Meanwhile, has Gabe Ellison's group arrived from Frontier Plaza?"

"Not yet, but we expect--"

Bill was cut off by a harsh voice, barely recognizable as female: "Citizen Shao! How come you didn't call me to let me know my protection was here?" The coherent part was followed by a mush-mouthed cursing part. Not Salwa Jalalu, but Aretha Shabazz, was bearing down on the Ombudsman and the Grange personnel. Bill swung around to face her.

"Aretha, they're not _your_ protection, they're here to protect Citizen Jalalu."

"They're here to protect against the _________ Islamophobes! And the white-supremacist ___________s around this Enclave don't even know the difference between a fully-practicing Muslim and a _progressive_ who's just open-minded with Islam. So I'm in as much danger as that _______ Salwa is! I want my _rights!_ No one's going to cheat me out of my rights!"

"Miss Shabazz--" Alipang began to interject.

Recognizing who he was, Aretha interrupted: "You're that racist dentist's pet Asian! What the _____ do you want?"

Forcing a polite expression onto his face, Alipang told her, "I wanted to point out to you that, with the _number_ of law-enforcement auxiliaries being assigned here, we'll be covering every avenue of approach to your places of work, lodging and recreation. So you'll be just as well protected against those Islamophobes AS IF we had been specially detailed to guard you in particular."

"Well, that _better_ be true, you dumb ________ Flip!"

Ladira Garvey now intervened on her team leader's behalf, stepping up very close to the leathery, ornery African-American woman. "Just a minute, Citizen Shabazz. Although I happen to know that Dr. Havens himself doesn't care if someone calls him a Flip, _you_ know that the word is a racial slur on Filipinos. Which makes you a hypocrite. If you expect us to take _any_ care to protect you from Islamophobes, you need to apologize to Dr. Havens _right_ now."

This challenge, from a muscular woman who could have annihilated her physically, gave Aretha pause -- but less because of intimidation, than because it required her atrophied brain to handle some actual thought. At last, she recovered and said, "All right, Dr. Havens, I'm sorry I called you a racial name."

Alipang smiled at Ladira, then smiled exaggeratedly at Aretha. "It's all right, Miss Shabazz. Precisely _because_ I'm one of those horrid Christians, I forgive you. And I promise, if any Islamophobes or white supremacists come hunting for you, they'll have to get past me first."

This was going to be a dreary assignment.

 
Xinjiang Region, Western China:

American diplomat Benito Salazar, despite living in China for many years, had never before heard of the Xiongnu Empire. This was because he didn't spend much time in the provincial areas of western China. But since coming to the historic city of Horgos, on Greater China's border with the Central Asian Caliphate, he had encountered written and spoken references to the fact that a non-Chinese nation, the Mongol-related Xiongnu Empire, had ruled Xinjiang about two thousand years ago. Some of the Uighirs in Xinjiang would speak about the Xiongnu period, and other long-lost epochs of Asian history, as if they were no farther back than Grandfather's teenage years.

It didn't require a rocket scientist to realize that there still were members of Greater China's ethnic minorities who would rather have been ruled by someone other than the Han Chinese.

Never having much of importance to do in Beijing, Benito had been intrigued when Communist Party officials paid him the courtesy of including him in low-classification briefings on the investigation of the runaway Monkey Cloud robot plane which had strafed a Beijing apartment building. Since discontented Central Asian Muslims as a group remained suspects in the system hacking which had caused the fighter-drone to run amok, Beijing was concerned to maintain goodwill with ordinary civilians in the northwest while still hunting for culprits. Thus, an Aerospace Force colonel, on behalf of his government, had asked Benito to go on a speaking tour in Xinjiang, reminding the locals how wonderful China was.

Though not the brightest lightbulb on the shelf, Benito had realized that using him was a can't-lose arrangement for his hosts. If the round-eye American met with scorn among the Uighirs and other non-Han folk, the Chinese government would be no worse off, while if he succeeded, Beijing's aim of preserving stability would be helped.

So it was that Ambassador Salazar, who could speak decent Mandarin Chinese, was addressing over twenty thousand Xinjiang residents gathered at a wind farm, the nearest wind farm to Horgos. The windmills had been temporarily stopped in order to provide quiet for his speech. Streamcast media crews were present to report on the event.

Benito had the benefit of a top-line outdoor sound system, but was not using any electronic device to translate his Chinese words into the Uighir language. Instead, he had a live interpreter, an important Party official of the city. Hao Chi-Sheng, though a Han Chinese herself, enjoyed a mastery of all the indigenous languages used in Xinjiang; and she felt that Benito's talk would go over better if the interpretation was performed by a living person who was known to have taken the trouble to study Uighir in the traditional way, rather than by artificial knowledge-implantation.

It seemed to be working. The audience had not been forced at gunpoint to attend, but they were listening with a reasonable appearance of interest.

"No one can appreciate better than the peoples of Asia," said Benito, "just how universally precious and vital unity is. It was unity which enabled you all to defeat the white colonial regimes and regain your freedom. It is unity which makes Greater China the world's leader in science and technology." Even Benito, product of Marxist-leaning American schools though he was, knew perfectly well that a great deal of China's technology had been stolen from the former United States; but even if he had not been indoctrinated all his life to believe that the United States had been the ultimate in evil, there was no point in mentioning that fact before this audience.

He watched Hao Chi-Sheng as she interpreted his latest portion. She was very smooth at her work. If she had not been so drab and plain-looking, he would have been strongly attracted to her. In any event, she was helping him to make a good impression.

But Benito was destined never to find out how much applause his speech would have received. As he was beginning the next part, a sudden screaming and pointing broke out in the crowd. The audience could see something above and behind him....
 
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Hao Chi-Sheng carried a radio receiver planted in her skull, much like the one the deep-cover agent Peter Tomisaburo had formerly carried in his head. Unlike Mr. Tomisaburo, Miss Hao had easy access to medical care that was advanced enough to counteract any cancer-causing effects of having an electronic device active right alongside her brain; therefore, there was no reason for Miss Hao's intracephalic device to be removed.

Moments before the cries of alarm began in the crowd, Hao Shi-Cheng had heard a few phrases standing out from the low-volume frequency-sweep that her receiver did when not instructed otherwise. The phrases had seemed to indicate that, although the Aerospace Force and the People's Navy had grounded all robotic aircraft, some saboteur had contrived to penetrate military cyber-networks SO cleverly as to activate a GROUNDED military drone and get it airborne. But she heard nothing about WHERE this had happened; it was not her duty to track runaway robots; and she was in the middle of a simultaneous translation job that was important in its own right. Thus, she would have dismissed the new cyber-warfare attack from her attention -- if the flying robot in question had not turned out to be right behind her.

The yells of the crowd were followed closely by a mighty crash which drowned out Benito's amplified voice. Turning, Chi-Sheng beheld an airplane, a type she didn't recognize but bigger than a Monkey Cloud, knocking down one of the windmills behind the speaker's platform. That windmill was far enough away that its fall would not bring it onto the platform -- but a second windmill, along the same vector, was close enough that IT would hit there.

The Chinese woman had enough kung-fu training to be practiced in quick response to an emergency. It took her scarcely a second to perceive the danger; and while Benito Salazar stupidly gawked, she grabbed him by one arm and yanked him after her. Leaping to one side, she had him and herself out of the way before the second windmill shattered the platform.

The now-damaged robot plane itself, in a shallow descent, hit the ground almost a kilometer beyond the wrecked stage. Fortunately, it did not explode; and the people in the crowd had mostly had the sense to try, like Chi-Sheng, to flee laterally, out of the big drone's path. Some were still killed, but not nearly as many as if the crowd in general had frozen in place or milled randomly.
_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

Benito found himself admitted to yet another meeting of military officers, this time in a government office building in Horgos. He greatly regretted not having had a chance to thank Chi-Sheng for saving his life; she had moved on to help casualties as soon as she knew he was unhurt. But Benito had uniformed men requiring all of his present attention. They, in turn, gave him the impression that they respected him at least a little, unlike many Chinese he had dealt with before. After an intelligence analyst reported what base the crashed plane had come from and various details of its short flight, talk turned to the subject of combatting civilian panic while the investigation continued. This then led to acknowledgement of what Benito had been doing.

"You were doing well with your presentation before the emergency," one many-medalled officer told him. "It does you credit."

Another officer, seeming by his uniform to be from a different branch of service than the first, added, "Accordingly, as our government solicits international cooperation in our search for the infiltrators, it will want you personally to facilitate our communication with President Atkinson in this matter."

"Of course, I'll be honored to assist you," Benito assured them. "But if I may ask a question, is this hacking threat so big as to paralyze your strategic defense capabilities?"

The man who had briefed everyone took it on himself to answer: "You are not cleared to know our estimates of how long the peril is likely to continue. I can, however, tell you that it has us worried -- as worried as anything HAS worried Beijing since the Triads tried to take over our Moon colony. Common sense declares that any adversary, maybe even a different adversary from the one attacking our combat computer networks, might be tempted to gamble that our inability to rely on automated armaments will continue long enough to let the enemy strike us hard, even invade us outright."

"Then may I now offer a suggestion?" said Benito. "As I understand it, the airplanes taken over by the unknown hackers operated on control originating OUTSIDE themselves. Couldn't you use aircraft with all internal controls? Like, with living crews? If only as a stopgap?"

The Chinese officers looked at each other. Then, a man who had not heretofore addressed Benito replied, "We have such craft in storage, of course; but it would take some time to make them ready for action again."

"Then let MY country provide you with aircraft!" exclaimed Benito triumphantly. "You know about the Great Condor attack helicopters and upgraded Tu-95's we possess. If we lend these to your military, they should be immune to whatever cyber-attack methods your hacker is using, so you would have at least some air-patrol assets not affected by the danger of runaways. That would give you time to press on with your investigation and catch the saboteurs."

"Are you sure YOUR country doesn't need those bombers and helicopters?" the intelligence analyst asked mildly.

Benito was on a roll with boot-licking. "What the WORLD needs is a secure, strong Greater China! I know that the Fairness Party Presidium will rejoice at the opportunity to assist the government which freed America from its Nazi Christian corporate oligarchs. What's more, the long-term loan of our aviation assets to China will be taking those assets AWAY FROM the renegade militaristic elements in our own society. It's a win-win situation, as we used to say in America: helping you against un-mutual racist reactionaries whose identities you don't know, and at the same time disarming the un-mutual racist reactionaries we DO know in the D.S.A.!"

The analyst raised an eyebrow. "Do you mean to say that your own Texas Rangers are the racists in the Diversity States? If so, how is it that they're allowed to possess ANY military ordnance?"

"It's a coalition-government kind of deal," said Benito. "But in my own opinion, the D.S.A. can no longer afford to leave heavy weapons in the hands of bigots who hate everyone who's different from them. They've been provoking the Aztlanos for years, even as they scheme to reinstate theocracy within our borders. But now, having this other cause to take away their air power without SEEMING to bear ill-will for them, we can painlessly set back their treacherous agenda."

The gathered military men from the Xinjiang Region all inwardly realized how odd it was to hear this puny American imitating the same kind of propaganda that had been fed by Beijing to past generations of the Chinese people. Nonetheless, it WAS true that even a small number of mission-ready manned combat aircraft, which were not subject to whatever was taking over automated aircraft from the outside, would be a great help right now. And crews for the borrowed planes and helos could be made ready quickly through artificial knowledge-implantation.

Manned fighting aircraft, in larger numbers than the D.S.A. was able to offer, could simply be purchased from other countries by the richest country in the world. But all of the officers in the room understood that Beijing would be especially pleased by the spectacle of so feeble a nation as the Diversity States falling all over itself to curry favor with China....
 
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Back in Wyoming:

All through his first evening and first full day at the Gas Hills compound, Alipang did not get a chance to speak with Salwa Jalalu, the woman whose alleged peril was the alleged reason for so many Grange hunters being detailed here as guardians. He did, however, learn plenty about uranium processing from the miners and other workers. And he had conversations with numerous men and women who wondered why he was walking around barefoot. Not being sworn to secrecy, he told them about his epidermal enhancement.

A few, just a few of the exiles who made up most of the Gas Hills workforce became a bit withdrawn once they realized that Alipang had received so much special attention from the triumvirate. It was as if they were suddenly afraid that this brown man might have become a brown-noser for the rulers, and might have actually been sent here to uncover discontent. Remembering his own experiences as a target for entrapment, Alipang couldn't blame them. But, since as usual he had his portable dental kit with him, he gained goodwill in one quarter: with a lady about his own age named Vera Strother, the one full-time dentist serving the Gas Hills personnel.

Vera was a Christian exile, whose husband Calvin had been murdered like so many others during the engineered anti-Christian riots in 2021. In befriending her, Alipang -- keenly aware that other people were aware that his wife still was absent from the Enclave -- made sure never to be alone with her for a single instant. All he meant to offer Vera, and all he wanted to be _perceived_ as offering, was professional assistance, lightening her load with patients. He even insisted that she still receive payment for any patients he treated, since he was getting a stipend for his assignment here anyway.

Interestingly, though it had no practical effect on Alipang's actions, Vera revealed that she knew about what had happened to Henry Spafford last autumn. But if she knew the role Alipang had played in liberating Henry, she did not mention it. This was fine with Alipang, who didn't want to appear as if he were fishing for compliments from a single woman.

Finally, on his second full day at Gas Hills, he did get to speak with a single woman whom he had perfectly valid cause to speak with at length. Half an hour after lunchtime ended, he happened on Salwa Jalalu, sitting at an outdoor table near the dining hall. She and another kitchen employee, an elderly white woman whom Alipang had heard addressed as Lindsay, were eating their own lunch after cleaning up from everyone else's.

Strolling up and sitting on the bench of a vacant table near theirs, Alipang said to the women: "Good afternoon, ladies! Lunch today was excellent. I liked everything, but especially those noodles. Are they made here?"

"Yes, they are," Lindsay replied. "I worked on them myself. Say, aren't you the chief of the new security detail?" Her eyes took in the bow, quiver, axe and belt knife that he always had about his person.

"So I am." Alipang turned slightly toward Salwa, who had not so far met his gaze. "Miss Jalalu, I hope you feel safe instead of threatened with us here."

Salwa's voice was no more than softly audible: "Of course, of course, you are wonderful to me, sir, I am honored beyond my deserving." Alipang was convinced that she was being timid rather than sarcastic. He exchanged a glance with Lindsay, who seemed to understand what was in his mind even before he spoke again.

"Miss Jalalu, I know some of what has happened to you. Besides having been briefed officially, I'm a close friend of Brendan Hyland, who was on the team that scanned you at Harun Fuad Hospital. What's more, I know something generally about socieities like the Great Lakes Cantonment. I'm not asking you to repudiate Islam, nor am I pressuring you to believe that the harm you suffered was in any way the direct _fault_ of Islam itself; but I _will_ tell you that, as far as I and those like me have any power in the matter, you _don't_ have to be frightened and submissive when living here."

Salwa finally looked straight at him, but only to show an expression of still more fright and submissiveness. "Please, sir, has anyone been accusing me of complaining?"

"No one has!" Lindsay interjected emphatically; and Alipang was quick to follow up.

"I haven't heard one word against you, either. I'm trying more or less to tell you the exact opposite. I already know that the management is very pleased with your work, and that we Grange members are as much your friends as Lindsay here is. In fact, we all think highly enough of you, that we would not be angry at you even if you _were_ to complain about something. Since I'm a man, you might be uneasy bringing something up to me; but I hope you feel free to tell the female Grangers about anything which disturbs you."

Salwa gave the first bit of a smile that Alipang had seen from her. "Yes, thank you, Ladira and the others are most patient and kind to me."

Lindsay's onlooking smile was more conspicuous. The older woman reminded him of Ingrid Plesser who worked with Terrance and Harmony at Earth's Treasures.
 
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Alipang was excusing himself when Salwa exclaimed, "Wait, please, Doctor Havens! You have been so reassuring.... there IS one more thing I want to speak about with you. Lindsay and others have urged me to be free with my thoughts, just as you have now done; so I wish to ask you a question."

Sitting down again, Alipang told her, "I'm at your service."

"You and your family are well enough known among the internal exiles, that I feel you must be good at answering questions which pertain to your religion."

When she hesitated, Alipang quipped, "Well, by transplanting us here in the first place, the Fairness Party was giving my family a sort of credentials for our faith. Please go on."

"Thank you. That is exactly what I was thinking about: your being transplanted here. Since America is a _Christian_ nation, why is it that the American government forcibly confines many Christians in the Enclave, while Muslims in the Cantonment are allowed to leave it if they wish?"

"Intelligent question. First, you need to understand something. Many people use the _word_ 'Christian' simply as a convenient label, as when Jews in this country used to assume that virtually any American who _wasn't_ a Jew, must be a Christian. But the true definition of 'Christian' is much narrower, and our numbers are fewer, than the vague use of the word has made it appear. As for the leaders of the Fairness Party, they are decidedly NOT any sort of Christians; they desire, and live their lives for, absolutely _nothing_ but the attainment of power and pleasure in the material world.

"As such, they are hostile to any belief in a living, personal, all-powerful Creator. But there is an easily-understood reason why they are _more_ hostile to Christianity than to Islam. Whatever great achievements Islamic civilization has to its credit, A CONSTITUTIONAL, REPRESENTATIVE SYSTEM OF GOVERNMENT is not among them. Say what anyone will about Crusaders and Islamophobia, the indisputable fact is that it was _Christian_ civilization which created representative government in the modern world. And the Fairness Party _hates_ representative government, possibly even more than it hates religious faith."

Salwa's eyes widened. "But Party officials will say that their Party _does_ represent the people, because _every_ citizen has the possibility of rising to high rank in the party."

"That, Miss Jalalu, is what we call a half-truth, which makes a great lie. A common citizen can indeed join the Party and rise within it.... but he or she can do this _only_ by the permission, and on the terms, of the elite circle which _already_ rules from the top down. He or she cannot _change_ the system, he or she can only rise by _conforming_ to it. This is revealed in the fact that no one can be promoted to the Party's upper levels unless he or she is seen to perform an act of the flesh which both you and I find revolting; it's a way of shutting out those who have a different code from that of the Party."

Now the woman's eyes narrowed. "So in your case, Doctor Havens, is it some new step of progress that you have been given real authority over those who are now standing guard here?"

"Not really -- because those I lead are fellow exiles; and the stated expectation of the leaders in Rapid City is that, if my team does have to use force against anyone, it will only be against fellow exiles, not against any non-exile personnel in the Enclave."

Lindsay, who had been listening to the whole conversation, decided now to insert a lighter note. Leaning close to Salwa, she stage-whispered, "That means that Doctor Havens is not allowed to kill Aretha Shabazz. Too bad." Salwa actually laughed a bit at this.

Alipang was able to talk further about what went into making a Christian and what went into making a Christian society, before the two women had to get back inside the dining hall and resume work. He came away with a greater feeling of God's providence at work than he had felt so far during this assignment. He wished he could tell Kim about it. At least he could write her a letter; it _might_ reach her in Canada before she would finally return to the Enclave anyway.
 
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Chapter 126: The Blunders and Blindness of Bosses

The Canadian authorities, though long out of practice in counter-insurgency tactics, were gradually gaining the upper hand, rooting out the scattered saboteurs and terrorists who had been causing phenomenal disruption relative to their modest numbers. Some Canadian Muslims had harbored and helped the Islamofascist fighters, but others had helped the police to catch them. With Winnipeg out of danger, Kimberly Havens and her extended family had been able to return to Maurice LeGrand's mansion, and Kim had _thought_ that she and her children would be flying back to Wyoming anytime now.

But they were delayed further: not by the sentimental wish of relatives to keep them around longer, but by the Canadian government showing a sudden and surprising interest in Kim.

Obeying an online summons, Maurice and Baeline -- with Wilson insisting on tagging along -- brought Kim to a police station, while Elizabeth and Esteban looked after Kim's other children. After being absurdly searched for hidden weapons, Kim, her son, her sister and her brother-in-law underwent probing by an ultrasonic imager similar to Matti Siermaala's apparatus, only this one was computer-controlled. Once ultrasound had verified that none of them had unauthorized microchips or nanobots inside their bodies (which incidentally relieved Kim from years of wondering whether she did have a microchip inside her), Kim was separated from the others and led to a small room where a brainwave scanner was set up.

"Don't worry, this won't hurt at all," a policewoman told her. "It's only to check the accuracy of answers you give us." When the woman had connected Kim's head to the device, a plainclothesman began questioning her.

"Is your name Kimberly Tisdale?"

"If we follow the modern fashion of not taking a husband's last name, then yes. By the customs I believe in, I'm Kimberly Havens." This answer, like those that would follow it, was confirmed as true.

"Why was your family relocated to the Western Enclave in the first place?"

"The Fairness Party didn't want any Christians or Jews in the general population to enjoy positions of prestige. That included every kind of healthcare professional. I'm sure you already know that my husband's a dentist. But _even_ the Party wasn't stupid enough to discard so many of its skilled professionals altogether; so we were slated for internal exile, as opposed to being imprisoned in Self-Esteem Centers."

"Your files reveal that you are an acupuncturist. How did you learn this?"

"From a Chinese-American gentleman called Hung. It was before the Fairness Revolution, before Al was even practicing on his own, but at a time when government control of all healthcare fields was tightening. My father-in-law foresaw that federal caps on the payments that care providers could receive would make it hard for Al even to buy the supplies he needed. So Eric, that's Al's Dad, urged us to look into any alternative-therapy options that might make up for the difficulty of buying what we needed for the dental practice. I was already acquainted with Mrs. Hung, so it wasn't hard to make a deal. Mister Hung taught me acupuncture for pain blocking, and in return Alipang gave some free dental care to the Hung family. This was before the federal government prohibited all independent bartering of services."

"Your husband is known to be a physically dangerous man. Your brainwaves read honest when you say that the Diversity States government was against you for your faith; but are you _certain_ that your family's arrest and relocation had no connection with violent actions on your husband's part?"

"Sir, I _know_ that it had _nothing_ to do with any violence by Al. It happened that circumstances, what you would call chance, kept us clear of the government-manufactured riots in 2021, so Al had no occasion to hurt anyone then. And when the Campaign Against Hate began its more official pogrom against Biblicals, Al knew he _couldn't_ fight them, because he had me and the children to think of. So he submitted to arrest without resisting."

The detective took on the air of a prosecutor making some brilliant move in court. "But you're not _happy_ about your confinement, are you?"

"Why should I be pleased at being robbed of liberty? But Al and I realized early on that things could have been _much_ worse for us. If not for being kept apart from so many loved ones, like my mother and sisters, I would in fact have said that our life in Wyoming Sector was a _paradise_ compared to what could have happened to us."

Kim's interrogator began paying closer attention to the brainwave readouts as he thrust home with the question he had been leading up to: "So you couldn't be planning some kind of _revenge_ on the system, could you? You do realize, don't you, that acupunctural skills can actually be used to _kill_ people? Is it possible that you were hoping to _meet_ some of the religious insurgents operating in Canada, and offer them your services as an assassin, in return for their helping you to strike back at your enemies in the Diversity States?"

Kim's jaw dropped. "That's the most ridiculous thing anyone has _ever_ said about me! Do you want a _direct_ answer? NO SUCH THING as you are suggesting was ever in my thoughts at all! Do you know _nothing_ about the Christian faith?"

Pausing long enough to see that his equipment still declared Kim as truthful as ever, the detective then replied in a less aggressive tone, "Actually, not much, I suppose. I'm into Rasta-Inuit Zen, myself."

Kim scowled. "May I leave now?"

"Yes. I apologize for seeming to accuse you; but the attack on Canada was so unexpected, that in its wake we're feeling a need to pry into _anything_ that might be a clue to hidden threats. This interrogation will be shared with Diversity States law enforcement.... but there's going to be a tiny glitch that erases the parts where you called the Fairness Party stupid, and referred to the 2021 riots as being manufactured by them. It's the least I can do for you."
 
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In Rapid City:

The actress Hydrogen Forbes, who had portrayed one of the "heroic" Commerce Inspectors protecting the poor naive Biblicals from the evil capitalistic schemes of WhiteMaleCorp in the movie Geothermal Plants of the Heart, didn't have enough union tenure to get another major movie role right away. (Thanks to telomere preservation, an actress could REALLY BE physically the same as a twenty-year-old when over the age of thirty; thus, even ingenue roles were often all sewn up by established actresses.)

Aware of Bailey Melville and Moonrose Quickpace getting transferred out of the Enclave together for their excessive insulting of the real-life Biblicals, Hydrogen -- Jenny to some -- tried to get approval to take over managing Equalityball in the North Dakota Sector; but the triumvirate was moving to get all Equalityball teams under exile management, since most exiles found playing this game to be one of the most harmless concessions they could make to the regime. And she couldn't sing well enough to become a vocalist with the Blue Moon Stun Jazz Orchestra And Chorus. Therefore, partly because she liked living someplace where she was allowed to eat animal protein despite not having a very high social status, Hydrogen made sure to collar Zimmo Garland as soon as he flew back into Rapid City with a new low-budget "adult" script to produce.

Also right on the scene to lay claim to the "edgy" director's attention was Samantha Ford. This led to a longer and more meaningful conversation between Samantha and Hydrogen than they had ever had up to now... which in turn led to their immediately beginning to share living quarters, to the gratification of both. On their first night together, the two women held a sort of brainstorming session for ideas of what they might do in improvisational scenes in the new movie. This included some talk about the use of the computer imagery of Josiah Redfern which Zimmo had used once by now. The imagery still existing, and Josiah having no legal recourse against it being used again, Hydrogen took the lead in speculating how the Christian military veteran and expatriate might be made to seem to be enjoying himself creatively in the company of both actresses at once.

But although all was green-light for the continuation of Samantha's cinema career, she was not destined for long to go on enjoying her preferred all-female environment in off-work hours. For on the very day after her first night with Hydrogen, a message reached her directly from President Megavolt Atkinson, formerly Secretary of State. Because the former Ambassador-At-Large had striven so faithfully to root out all masculinity from her own male bioproduct, Meg wanted Samantha to assume temporary custody of another boy, a pre-adolescent who in his case needed to be purged of the evils of racism: none other than Tim Govinda, erstwhile Chief Justice of the Diversity States Supreme Court.

When Samantha texted back a question about how Tim could possibly be guilty of any hate crime, she was told that the government of Aztlan had cried racism to the Hemispheric Union when Tim spoke against bullfighting on a streamcast. The President explained that since the Aztlanos had suffered so much previous racial slurring as to provoke their aerial attacks on the Diversity States, it was imperative to do better at appeasing them. Meg and Samantha both knew perfectly well that those air attacks had really been connected with Aztlan's campaign to kidnap skilled professionals from the Diversity States to keep Aztlan's infrastructure going; but both diplomats were bound to their core principle of never missing any chance to blame all the world's problems on white supremacists and-or God-fascists.

Thus Ms. Ford acquiesced. That evening, with one day's videocording finished, she went to Ellsworth Airfield to meet the Atmosfleet plane which was bringing in the deposed Chief Justice. Hydrogen went with her for moral support.

Five D.S. Marshals and three Transport Police were escorting the deranged boy. Had they cared to mention it, they could have told Samantha and Hydrogen how Tim had spent the flight urging everyone around them to practice changing into animals. As soon as they officially delivered the boy to his new guardian, they were clearly glad to part company. As for Tim, once introduced, his first words were to the slightly younger of the two "exotic" performers:

"You're Hydrogen Ford, right? Samantha's sister?"

Hydrogen, less male-phobic than Samantha, smiled easily. "No, my last name is Forbes, not Ford. Just a coincidence that we have similar last names."

"Then you're not Daffodil's aunt? Too bad. I liked him when I met him in that hospital. Say, do you ever change into any birds?"

"No, I can't say as I do."

"Well, you know," Samantha put in, "there is plenty of diversity to be enjoyed in the world even when we stay in human shape." As she said this, she was mentally running through the possibilities here. If she could satisfy everyone that Tim was not a racist, and make his mind a bit clearer, while at the same time training him into the same gender orientation she had long tried vainly to train her son for, this would be a good step in restoring her prestige with the State Department and the wider diplomatic community.

 
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Samantha and Hydrogen had eaten supper at the Black Hills Lodge, and Tim had eaten on the airliner. Nonetheless, after a pedicab ride took the unlikely trio most of the way from the airport, once they were walking and passed by some trees, Tim suddenly shouted, "My giraffe-self is hungry!" He then began snatching leaves off the lowest branches, to eat them. Alarmed at the thought of a child making himself sick while _she_ rather than some institution was responsible for him, Samantha forcibly restrained him. Hydrogen helped to disarm the scene by telling Tim, "We need to leave these trees intact, in case any giraffes or elk who _can't_ so easily switch to human form need them for food."

The apartment the two women shared was one designed to accommodate "non-breeders;" it had only one bedroom. So the two newly-appointed caregivers kept the boy awake and occupied for as long as possible, in hopes that in a sleepier condition he would be more compliant with whatever sleeping arrangement they finally settled on for him. Killing time was not difficult, as it was easy to persuade the young lunatic to talk about his experiences on the All-Species Council in Seattle and then on the Supreme Court. He seemed, however, to have erased from his own memory the day of the frightful shootout at the Presidium.

At last, Samantha and Hydrogen were able to put the boy to bed on the sofa, with a genuine bearskin rug over him. Then they headed for bed themselves. But at the most inconvenient moment imaginable, Tim sprang up and charged into the bedroom, barking and howling and babbling something about "the pack all sharing the same den."

There was no peace for the two adults until Samantha had the inspiration to force-feed a dose of Wonderflexin to the boy. This made him tractable and a half, and before much longer he was asleep on the designated sofa. Fortunately for him, the chemists who had created Wonderflexin had taken more precautions to make overdose deaths unlikely than Samantha had bothered to think about.
_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

Unlike Samantha, Hydrogen had some cooking skills. In the morning, as she had also done on her first morning getting up with Samantha, she went to work in the kitchenette to prepare breakfast. Or anyway, she tried to.... but soon was interrupted by Tim, who was now an orangutan, climbing up onto the counter.

Resolving to be more diplomatic with him than she had so far managed, Samantha signalled Hydrogen to give her time for her attempt. Climbing up on the counter with Tim, she said to him: "Your Honor, do you realize what kind of population group we are surrounded by here in the Enclave?"

Tim nodded solemnly. "The religious looshes, who hate everyone who's different."

"Well said, Your Honor. No wonder they needed you on the Supreme Court. Karma willing, you'll be reinstated there in a matter of months. But while you're on sabbatical here, you should practice honing your people skills. _Because_ the Biblicals don't have the wisdom of oneness, they don't have your ability to realize all your co-existing forms. If you show off this talent in front of them, it may fill them with so much envy that you won't--"

Just when Samantha, and the onlooking Hydrogen, thought that this was getting through to the boy, he abruptly shouted, "Grooming!" and grabbed clumsily at Samantha's long hair with both hands. His lunge, and her automatic but belated reflex of pulling away from him, resulted in both of them falling off the countertop in a heap, with one of Samantha's knees whacking painfully against the doorhandle of a floor-level cupboard.

In a backhanded sort of way, it could be said to Samantha Ford's credit that she had never gone into such a rage against her own son as she now flew into. Summoning up an inner strength which till now she had never summoned except for jealous fights with other women, she clutched Tim by his shirt front and one armpit, heaved him up from the floor, slammed him down again on his back, and leaned a knee onto his chest as he stared in disbelief and pain.

"You stupid little piece of gutflak!" she shrieked. "Listen to me! You're _not_ a giraffe, you're _not_ a wolf, and you're _not_ an orangutan! All you are is a fluke-brained boy that I'm getting tired of already, and since I'm in charge of you, I'm telling you to _stop_ this crazy fantasy!"

In an instant, Tim was in tears. "But it _isn't_ a fantasy! I was _born_ this way, and you're talking _hate_ speech!"

Samantha was struck mute with an uncomfortable revelation. Ever since she was twelve years old, she had been accustomed to believing that she could silence any challenge to her preferred way of life by claiming that she had been born the way she was choosing to be, and that anyone saying otherwise was a hateful bigot. Now, Tim Govinda was using her own weapon on her; and why was she not feeling herself in agreement with him? In part, it was because she had never had a self-serving stake in arguing that people could be born as inter-species shape-changers.

This new line of thought, like a sunbeam puncturing a cloud mass, might have led her to unanticipated understanding of -- something. But it was interrupted by women from neighboring apartments clustering at the door to ask if someone were in trouble.

Hydrogen assured the women that there was no emergency, only a routine matter of a primitive throwback boy being taught to respect female authority. Samantha forgot the self-doubt which had barely begun to penetrate her narcissism, and the making of breakfast could resume.

But at least the former Chief Justice grew somewhat more docile and obedient.

=====>>>> REDUNDANT NOTE TO SELF: Where Tim is insane, his long-separated cousin Chida Govinda is "merely" a white-collar criminal back in India. She's been using the alias of Indira Payam. I both need to get them cured respectively of psychosis and of criminality; and some higher-billed character needs to help them in this. Also to be noted is another set of blood cousins: Peggy Havens, daughter of Kim and Alipang, and Doug Vasquez, son of Melody-nee-Havens and her Texas Ranger.

NOT SO REDUNDANT: I had completely forgotten how I said that Kim's mother Elizabeth found a good man at last, a South American businessman called Esteban Zapata. Marrying her, he obtained fertility restoration for her, and they have a little son named Javier. Javier can be called a pre-schooler at a likely time for him to be onstage.
 
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Sounds like Samantha has got more than she bargained for. Hopefully it will wake her up, although I'm not betting on that.
 
On the afternoon of Samantha's first full day with Tim, Inspectors Leroy Lincoln and Eileen O'Hennessy, commanders of the two federal-district police detachments posted in the Enclave, met with the triumvirate in a spy-proofed office inside Harney's Peak, to hold a video conference on an encrypted channel with Vice-President Reed Harrison and Continental Marshal Yelena Gorshkovskaya, on the subject of losing their air cover. Harrison was authorized by President and Party to decide the issue; Gorshkovskaya was included mostly for her own information.

The Undersecretary of Sustainable Energy opened the discussion: "Citizen Vice-President, Citizen Continental Marshal, Inspector Lincoln has a concern to raise, in view of the near-total removal of the Texas Rangers' armed aviation assets from the Diversity States. It relates, naturally, to the possibility of military demonstrations by the Aztec-Maoist Republic of Aztlan. Inspector O'Hennessy is not actively concurring with Inspector Lincoln, but is ready to play her part in anything which ensues from this conference."

The Vice-President's image nodded. "Inspector Lincoln, you may proceed."

"Thank you, Citizen Vice-President. I can state that Texas Ranger Lieutenant Emilio Vasquez has the same opinion I do of the situation. Since I'm a little higher than he is in law-enforcement seniority, he asked me to speak for him today."

At this point, the Distribution Undersecretary interjected, "In addition, and this does not contradict anything Citizen Lincoln says, Citizen Vasquez is busy trying to devise the best use of all airborne assets remaining to him. Begging your pardon, Inspector, please continue."

"An appropriate elaboration, Citizen Undersecretary. Citizen Vice-President, Lieutenant Vasquez indeed is doing as Distribution just remarked. Giving his Great Condor and light gunship to Greater China, along with all--"

Gorshkovskaya interrupted, not angrily but just a bit rudely, "Inspector Lincoln, the Tu-95's and armed helos in question have not been given outright to China, only sent on loan."

Harrison took over from there, his voice friendlier than the Continental Marshal's: "You can hardly disagree with me when I remind you how seldom it is that the Diversity States is able to perform a meaningful service to that People's Republic which enabled the Fairness Revolution to succeed and has remained a role model for us."

"I realized the importance of that right away!" said O'Hennessy. "I even scheduled in-service training for my officers on the subject."

"Thank you, Inspector Hennessy," replied the Vice-President, in a thank-you-but-now-shut-up tone. "Inspector Lincoln, are you and Lieutenant Vasquez worried only about the loss of _combative_ capability, or more generally about a decrease in air-transport and reconnaissance capability?"

"Of course, Citizen Vice-President, air transportation and recon both have their importance; but there are still airplanes, helicopters, and one lighter-than-air ship available to us for those purposes, given a little inter-agency sharing...."

The next interruption came from the Undersecretary of Eco-Sensitive Agriculture: "My own subordinates, the Forest Rangers and Grange volunteers, are already starting to fill the reconnaissance gaps by riding on scout patrols in available aircraft."

Leroy picked up his thought again: "Agriculture has also added pertinent information. But we are worried foremost about airborne combat resources -- because now we don't have any."

"You do realize, do you not," said Harrison, "that our Chinese allies have been facing _actual_ armed insurrection lately, whereas you are only worried about _potential_ conflict?"

"Yes, sir; and I'm aware of the uniqueness of a situation where it's exactly our _lower_ tech level that makes our aircraft useful to the Chinese when their automated command and control is impaired. I've watched the video of the training sessions my colleague Inspector O'Hennessy held. But right now, here in the Enclave, we have nothing stronger than small arms and non-lethal police weaponry, in the air or on the ground, with which to oppose any incursion by Aztlan. And they _were_ mighty steamed by Chief Justice Govinda's anti-bullfighting speech."

"But our State Department has been on the job to placate the Aztlanos -- not only by deposing the Chief Justice, but also by increasing our output of electrical power to Aztlan. What more could be needed?"

Leroy drew a deep breath. "Citizen Vice-President, you recall that the pacifying gestures of our disgraced and deceased previous President _failed_ to halt the aggression by Aztlan. And your increase of power to Aztlan was so big that, even with Spirit Smoke Station operational, it's meant a decrease in the power allotment to the Enclave."

"Surely you don't expect _Washington_ to go without power, do you?" snorted Gorshkovskaya. "Let the exiles be reminded that electricity is a privilege! It isn't as if this were winter; they won't freeze in the time required for the rest of the geothermal plants to come on line."

Although the analogy was not very close, Leroy couldn't help thinking of Ebenezer Scrooge saying, "Let them die, and decrease the surplus population."
 
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Next, Vice-President Harrison asked Leroy, "In your opinion, and the Texas Rangers' opinion, how much likelihood is there of Aztlan responding militarily to the shocking racism of Citizen Govinda? And of such response being directed against the Western Enclave in particular?"

Leroy looked Harrison's image right in the eye. "Sir, you know that Aztlan is terribly limited in their options for someone to rob. Mexico, or even Canada, could kick their butts at need; and Aztlan has no serious navy to allow them to forage farther abroad. So, if they hope to compensate for the major ordnance that China confiscated from them when Tonio Formentera was deposed, they have exactly two choices: WORK HONESTLY to improve their industrial infrastructure -- or plunder the Diversity States again. I can't say I _know_ that they would hit the Enclave; but _they_ know that the Enclave is becoming more of an industrial center for our country. Anyway, _wherever_ they might hit, it remains true that disarming the Sky Rangers leaves us hardly anything to fight back with."

" 'Fighting back' is _such_ a primitive concept," Harrison sniffed. "Our delegations to both the United Nations and the Western Hemisphere Union are working right now to pre-empt the very prospect of a border clash."

Leroy was losing patience, and losing caution with it. "Citizen Vice-President, you will not have forgotten that while Jessica Trevette was President, she actually went to Aztlan, to stroke them and fawn on them. But this did not stop them from continuing to behave belligerently. Nobody loves peace more than a cop does; but I'm telling you, no diplomacy will deter Emilio Formentera from emulating his father's piracy if he's convinced he doesn't have to pay any price for it! I'm not asking for the means to _invade_ Aztlan; but we've GOT to be able at least to defend ourselves!"

"Citizen Lincoln! Remember whom you're talking to!" the Continental Marshal suddenly snapped.

Leroy was not in the mood now to cringe. "I haven't forgotten who he is. But neither have I forgotten the day I _watched_ Aztlano fighter-bombers flying into Kansas airspace! And as far as I know, jets of that kind were not among the items confiscated by China; Aztlan still has some of them! What do we have?"

Harrison's image seemed to grow larger as he glared at Leroy. "Citizen Inspector... you _will_ now listen to me. The official record is going to show that you are reprimanded, with a twenty percent pay decrease for three months, because of your insubordinate manner of speaking. That is what the _official_ record will show. Now, keep on listening.

"Off the record, the reduction of your salary will be offset by additional healthcare and personal-travel credits being given over time to you and your close family members. And while we _officially_ reprimand you for wanting some armaments to use in case of an Aztlano attack... unofficially, we are going to provide you with what we can. The Energy Undersecretary is aware of an option she and I discussed as soon as the Party decided to lend our fighting aircraft to China. Undersecretary, please tell him."

With a nod, Energy turned to face Leroy as he turned to face her. "Inspector Lincoln, you have labored under the impression that when the Overseers were pulled out of the Enclave, all of the particle-beam weapons they used to mount on their motorcycles were also pulled out."

Leroy's eyebrows rose. "You mean they weren't?"

"Two complete beam-carrying motorcycles were secretly retained here in Harney's Peak. Those are ordered to be kept within the Rapid City area, in Commerce Inspector custody, as part of triumvirate security. But there are another five detached particle-beam weapons also stored here. A procedure exists by which these beams can be recharged at any nuclear power plant. The small size which limits these weapons to three shots per charging, also means they are light enough to be mounted on practically _every_ sort of aircraft. The little patrol helo that Lieutenant Vasquez customarily flies could manage one; the large fixed-wing plane he has at his command could mount the other four."

"We'll work out a plan for deployment of those five beams," the Vice-President put in. "The fewer _Americans_ know the weapons are in the Enclave, the better our chances of keeping them a secret from Aztlan."

Leroy sighed with relief. "Thank you, sir. A total of fifteen particle-beam shots before having to reload is a _whole_ lot better than nothing; and if it comes to combat, the Aztlanos might even be afraid that we have more beams on hand than we really have."

"You have one more hole card besides," Energy told him, "though strictly speaking, it isn't located _inside_ the Enclave. You remember the infra-red projectors used as part of the weather-control system, to heat up air masses and alter their movement?"

Leroy looked intrigued. "Are you about to say that those projectors can be weaponized?"

"Not as the most efficient of artillery, but yes. Their wide beams can be concentrated enough to become heat-rays of a sort: able at least to cause heat stroke for unshielded humans, and able to inflict damage on vehicles. This would somewhat slow down an invasion force entering any border sector where the projectors are installed, including the south strip of Wyoming."

"Hmmm, and you never used them against any previous Aztlano aggressor force, air or land, because--?"

"Because Trevette never permitted it," Harrison answered. "But for the current President, in this situation, it has become an option."

"Okay, sir, that also is better than nothing. Are you going to notify Lieutenant Vasquez that he isn't entirely forsaken after all?"

"We'll allow you to do that yourself -- going in person to Natrona Airport, and using Vasquez's secure office to tell him about it. Once you've done this, have him call us, encrypted, to begin arrangements. A few rail rifles may also become available, besides the stationary railgun emplacement at Frontier Plaza."

"Yes, sir, thank you, sir." And Leroy felt better.
 
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One single-engine fixed-wing airplane was at Leroy's disposal, piloted by a female Transport Police officer because there were no qualified pilots in the police contingent from the Great Plains Federal District. This woman, a fair-haired Caucasian, had been flirting with Leroy since she was first assigned as his pilot; but though he was single, the Inspector paid no heed to her overtures. As had been the case with Leroy's fellow African-American, Porter Hennepin, dealing with Victoria Tabor, Leroy's non-interest in Transport Police Corporal Georgette Ware was not a matter of her color, but a matter of her having incompatible beliefs. Leroy had even less interest in joining the Gaian Cosmic Hedonist Visionary Society than the Grange volunteer had in joining the Mormons.

Regardless of romantic disappointment, Corporal Ware delivered Leroy promptly to Natrona Airport west of Casper in Wyoming Sector. Texas Ranger Sergeant Saul O'Keefe, grounded by the loss of his Great Condor helicopter, was manning the aviation detachment's headquarters. He was able to get in contact with Emilio Vasquez in short order. The Lieutenant flew in as fast as he could from coordinating reconnaissance patrols, and received the welcome news from Leroy before supper. Emilio immediately transmitted his requests to all appropriate persons for assistance in getting those particle beams ready for his detachment's use.

The requests, however, came up against the wall of bureaucracy.

The Commerce Inspectors would not make a move toward handing over the weapons until they had an official statement from Inspector O'Hennessy of whether or not she wanted any of the weapons assigned for her group's use -- even though they had to have known that O'Hennessy had already said she wanted nothing to do with them. (It was rumored that someone among the Enclave's Commerce Inspectors was seeing Eileen O'Hennessy socially; but no one had time to investigate this possible conflict of interests.) Energy Department personnel would not make a move toward charging the beam weapons until all issues of labor-union involvement had been resolved. The union for non-exiled power-plant workers, and the union for ordnance handlers, began arguing over which was to have authority over the process of energizing the weapons; they were coming close to having kinetic negotiations about this.

Because of these delays, Emilio and his Rangers were no closer to possessing particle beams on the day after Leroy's visit to Natrona than before. And on the _next_ day, Emilio was given cause to hate bureaucracy still more than he already did, if possible.

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

Texas Ranger Darya Sinkiewicz, also deprived of the use of a Great Condor, was at least getting the chance to use her skill with electronics. A multi-mission sensor suite -- borrowing components from the security systems used to observe the internal exiles -- had been assembled on board Cassie Magruder's airship. Cassie and Darya were flying a long, slow patrol right along the southern edge of Wyoming Sector. On board the dirigible besides the two women was a Grange volunteer who happened to be a native of southern Wyoming, a sixtyish man named Jorge Navarro. Jorge was doing naked-eye surveillance of the terrain below them to the south, terrain familiar to him, in order to compare his impressions with Darya's sensor readings.

They had been aloft for almost five hours -- endurance on station being one of the great virtues of lighter-than-air vehicles --when Darya detected a heat source, appearing to be a large ground vehicle barely half a kilometer from the Aztlan-Wyoming border. She also noted, and Cassie's instruments confirmed, that this ground vehicle was emitting a radar pulse in their direction.

"Cassie, emergency dive!" Darya shouted. "That's lock-on for a missile!"

The dirigible pilot had never been in any situation remotely like this; but she kept her composure, and threw the switch that would empty out most of the airship's gas-containment cells. Enough buoyancy was instantly lost that the dirigible would fall to earth at the fastest speed its occupants could survive unhurt with the benefit of impact-foam. As she did this, Cassie also called out by radio, "Mayday! Mayday! Airship Warden-One under missile attack, two klicks south of Sinclair! Mayday! Warden-One making crash dive, south of Sinclair--!"

The Aztlano self-propelled anti-aircraft missile mount was carrying a missile with a short range, but greater speed and more sophisticated guidance than any S.A.M. ever included before in the arsenal of the gang called Los Malignos. Emilio Formentera had acquired a limited shipment of these missiles from his Venezuelan friends. The missile crossed the whole non-Enclave strip of Wyoming that lay between launcher and target in scarcely more time than Cassie took to make her emergency dive.

The impact foam filled the cabin: a highly clever formula, which would shrink back from the extra carbon dioxide of human exhalation, so that after first impact the pilot and passengers would be able to breathe. Cassie, Darya and Jorge should have been able to get out alive... but the missile followed them down.

Jorge was trying to help Darya and Cassie push their way through the impact foam to get out the hatch, while simultaneously uttering a prayer. Before the three flyers were reduced to atoms, he had time to say this much:

"Holy Mary, Mother of God, pray for us sinners, now and in the hour of--"
 
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Chapter 127: Turning Up The Heat

On the morning after the deaths of Cassie Magruder and her companions, just after breakfast at the mansion in Winnipeg, Kim and her younger two children were playing with Kim's little half-brother Javier. More accurately, Kim, Brendan and Javier were all trying to amuse Baby Peggy by waving various toys before her face -- while Brendan privately continued marvelling at the fact that he had an uncle who was _younger_ than he was.

But then Baeline, Betsy to her sister, admitted a visitor to the house, one who wanted to speak with Kim privately. It was the same detective who had presided over Kim's brain scan. Insisting that her sister be present for moral support and as a witness to whatever was said, Kim deputized Esperanza to look after the smaller children, and Baeline led the way to a suitable room for talk.

The detective, looking none too happy, got right to business. "Ms. Havens, my station has received information which is not being released in the Diversity States media, but which technically is not classified either. I believe I owe it to you to tell you what's going on, and to provide follow-up information as it comes in."

This much, and the tone with which the man said it, was enough to set Kim and Baeline catching hold of each other in worry.

"Yesterday, in the same Enclave sector you come from," the policeman continued, "the one lighter-than-air ship stationed full-time in the Enclave was performing reconnaissance on the Enclave's southwest border. One of the persons on board was a male Grange volunteer who has not been identified. The others were a female Texas Ranger, and the woman who normally piloted the dirigible. Suddenly, paramilitary forces of the Republic of Aztlan fired a surface-to-air missile from their territory, right across the non-Enclave buffer zone, and into Enclave airspace, destroying the airship and killing all three persons on board."

"But you don't know _which_ Grange volunteer was on the airship?" Kim demanded.

"That was not relayed to us."

Kim seemed almost like a horse about to start bucking and bolting. Her sister hugged her half encouragingly, half restrainingly. "Kim, it _couldn't_ have been Alipang! He's too well known to be anonymous; if he'd been the one killed, we'd hear about it."

Though clasping her sister with equal tension, Kim did not take her eyes off the detective. "When _will_ you know who was killed?"

"We've already sent a request for that information, since there can't be any reason for the D.S. authorities to hide the Grange man's name from us. I hope to find out no later than tomorrow."

Baeline supplied the courtesy now. "Thank you, sir. We appreciate your thoughtfulness. When you--" But here, Kim supplied the impatient interruption.

"I need to get back to Wyoming! Me and my children! Can you help expedite that? The terrorists within Canada have been suppressed enough to allow air travel, haven't they?"

"I'll inquire about the status of airline flights for D.S. nationals...."

"Or trains! Please, we _have_ to get back!"

"He'll do what he can," Baeline assured Kim, then said goodbye to the detective, wanting him out and gone.

When the man had left, Kim impulsively tugged free from her sister's embrace, only to change her mind and fling her own arms around Baeline more tightly than before. "Betsy, I can't stand it! We _have_ to go back _now!_ What if it _was_ Al who got--?" she choked on saying the word "killed."

"Kim, it _can't_ have been Al. If they wanted an exile just to be looking around from the air, they wouldn't waste a healthcare professional on that!" Both sisters tightened their arms around each other still further, as if this were a form of arguing their points.

"Oh God, Betsy, I _want_ you to be right; but even if Al is okay, maybe one of his _friends_ was killed, like Henry Spafford! Al needs me, he needs me back there with him right away!" Baeline happened to be between Kim and the door of the room; now Kim leaned her weight against her equal-sized sibling, trying to push toward the door as if she could instantly obtain a flight reservation just like that.

But Baeline pushed back. "No, Kim, you _mustn't_ go back now! The Enclave might be about to turn into a war zone! Listen to me, Kim darling, Al _himself_ wouldn't want you and your kids to come back now and be flying right into danger! You have to stay here longer, where it's safe!"

This was the closest Kimberly and Baeline had ever come in their lives to having a physical fight with each other, yet there was no anger or animosity in it at all -- only an urgency of conflicting priorities. Baeline had always thought highly of her Filipino brother-in-law; but even if there were no danger whatsoever awaiting Kim and her children in Wyoming, Baeline (and this was also true of Susan, Sharon and their mother Elizabeth) was not in any hurry to end what might be the last visit they would ever have with Kim. For her part, Kim would have liked to extend this visit by a few more days, if there had not been any bad news from Wyoming; but now, she felt as if it would be a monstrous betrayal against Alipang if she did not return to his (hopefully living) side immediately.

The scuffle, what there was of it, did not inflict any damage on either sister, and soon dissolved into weeping, kissing -- and an agreement at least to wait until the Winnipeg police had more information to share.

 
There was no uncertainty _within_ the Western Enclave about which Grange member had perished. Well before Kim heard anything, hours after Cassie, Darya and Jorge were slain, Eric and Cecilia were visited by Sergeant Pasquale of the Transport Police -- no relation to the gangster Pasquale in the "Fat Coyotes" gang. The Sergeant informed the couple of what had occurred, which brought a question from Eric: "Do you think they're going to launch a ground invasion?"

"I wish I knew," replied Pasquale. "Right now, higher-ups are trying to find out more. But I'll give you one piece of information to direct your prayers. Up in the north end of Colorado, thus not far from the Diversity States border, there's a long, deep canyon called Thompson Canyon. It's deep enough and big enough that, if you can't look from straight overhead, you wouldn't be able to see a whole regiment of armored military ground vehicles hidden in there. No aircraft of ours can get close enough to see down into Thompson Canyon, and the Chinese _don't_ provide us with satellite surveillance of Aztlano territory."

Now Cecilia asked, "Is anyone here forming civil-defense plans?"

Sergeant Pasquale lowered his voice. "As far as I know, nobody in authority has taken any thought for evacuating, or protecting, anyone except non-exile government personnel. But neither has there been any order specifically _prohibiting_ measures for the safety of internal exiles. Listen: come to the federal building at seven in the morning. I'll try to get some persons with government status together; I'm pretty sure Mr. Musgrave will help, for one. You alert some of the more prominent locals, like Reuben Torvill and the De Sotos. We'll have a meeting where we can at least figure what _might_ be done for civil defense. In case I get pulled for emergency duty, I'll make sure there's _somebody_ left suitable to chair the meeting."

"The Pitafis!" Eric suddenly exclaimed. "They're technically not exiles, and Mrs. Pitafi is a Distribution Ombudsman."

"That's right," said Cecilia; "and Dalbir just got back from an inspection tour of the federal merchandise centers. She could chair the meeting." Even amid the signs of a new emergency, Cecilia was cheered by the thought of Dalbir Pitafi. The young South Asian woman had been sent roaming the sector because Fairness Party hacks imagined she might be induced to cheat on her husband while travelling, which would destroy her Christian testimony. But Dalbir's love for her husband Sarbar was like Cecilia's for Eric: not to be shaken by the shallow schemes of spiritually-blind cynics.

Sergeant Pasquale had scarcely left the Havens house before Eric was telephoning Wayne Schell, the new pastor of The Church of the Faithful, to start the ball rolling for tomorrow's meeting.

Halfway between the time one policeman visited the Eric Havens residence, and the time another policeman visited where Kim was, a small messenger robot visited the living quarters of diplomatic aide Vonetta Ashford in Caracas. Any form of call to the apartment _might_ be intercepted and decrypted; but the robot simply coming in and speaking a codeword would cause the pair in the bedroom to get up knowing what they had to do, while anyone spying would not know their business until they began doing it. This would at least _postpone_ unfriendly delegations knowing what they were up to. The more so since the robot was programmed to create uncertainty by also going to _other_ people with dummy codewords, causing those people to commence unimportant activities.

This use of the robot had been Ambassador Ritisak's own idea. No one at the State Department had thought of it; they were too busy still wringing their hands and apologizing retroactively for the supposed wickedness of a United States which no longer existed.

The affair between Vonetta Ashford and David Redfern, far from losing steam, had only been growing ever more passionate and mutually satisfying, and seeming more likely to become permanent; thus, when the summons to duty called them out of bed, the two lovers were thinking of themselves not as two co-workers having to come to the office before sunrise, but as truly a _couple_ sharing an exciting situation. They had to take passdown from the midnight shift in the communications room set aside for the Diversity States delegation to the Hemispheric Union. Seeing all available information about what was going on in North America, they were to form an assessment for Vibol Ritisak's benefit, refining it with new data till the last minute.

As they monitored events, David began to be afraid that he was in over his depth, being called on to help his government understand a crisis which involved actual death. But the fear of seeming incompetent in Vonetta's eyes kept him working, kept him focusing his mind as best he could. There was plenty to focus on here: not only evidence of the Venezuelan Alliance rebuilding Aztlan's military capability, but also of the Venezuelan, Peruvian and Bolivian national governments working to influence other Hemispheric Union members politically.

When Ambassador Ritisak showed up and received his briefing from Vonetta, he complimented her and her lover for good work. David was relieved and happy to know that he genuinely had contributed to composing the assessment; but then he felt ashamed of himself, for worrying more about his own prestige than about a deadly peril to all his friends in the Western Enclave.

Four hours after the Winnipeg detective had visited Kim, the D.S. delegation in the Bi-Continental Assembly witnessed maneuvering by the Venezuelan Alliance.

The Mexican Ambassador, condemning Aztlano aggression, announced that his government wanted to provide the Texas Rangers with replacement aircraft. But the Aztlano Ambassador claimed that the D.S. airship had been an electronic-warfare platform, conducting cyber-sabotage against Aztlan's communications. A surprising swell of support emerged for the Aztlano position. The Venezuelan Alliance, whatever the inducements used, had prevailed upon Brazil and the whole Caribbean Union to claim to believe the Aztlanos.

Vibol Ritisak, and his Canadian counterpart, were dismayed to receive orders _not_ to vote in favor of re-arming the Texas Rangers. With Canada and the Diversity States abstaining, the Venezuelan-Aztlano faction was easily able to pass a resolution _against_ any military aid to the D.S.A.

That evening, David and Vonetta were with Vibol and Imelda when a visitor called. Santiago Sanchez of Argentina was already a frequent visitor to the D.S. Ambassador, so his dropping by would not stir any undue interest; but once inside, he gestured to the spy-proof room. There, he offered a information that the Ambassador had not received up to now:

"You know how dependent your country has chosen to be upon soybeans as a food source. The Venezuelan government sent a secret threat to the Rainbow House, that if the Texas Rangers were given replacement aircraft, Venezuelan agents would release a mutated strain of the soybean-rust blight all over your country, threatening your people with famine."

David was first to react audibly: "Oh, God, no!" Imelda Ritisak said somewhat more: "And is there any hope of getting this threat condemned as bio-warfare?"

"I doubt it," replied Santiago, "since if it's exposed, the Venezuelans can argue that it isn't 'really' bio-warfare, because the blight won't _directly_ harm humans. BUT.... there may be friends of mine who can do something." The Argentinian semi-spy had already gotten word to the secret army.

"I can see now why my own government would back down," said Vibol; "but what made Canada decide to abstain?"

"We're not sure." Santiago did not specify who "we" were. "But the Canadian government is afraid that Venezuela is working with whoever touched off the Islamist guerrilla offensive on Canadian soil, and that crossing Venezuela in the Assembly might cause a new terrorism against Canada."

That night, David prayed silently for the people of the Diversity States. He was tortured by the ambiguity of hovering between his profession of Christian faith, and his not-exactly-Biblical co-habitation with Vonetta. Had he known it, Vonetta also prayed that night, with identical conflicted emotions. Neither was quite sure how God would view their prayers. It would have been easy enough to tell themselves that the Party was right, and any restraint upon carnal pleasure was "hate;" but both of them knew too much about genuine Christians to swallow that facile propaganda. So they doubted the value of their prayers, and doubted the legitimacy of their sleeping arrangement, yet could not give up either thing.

 
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That same day, Lenore Glass and her recently-arrived brother Larry were working in his office on what was now designated the campus of the Western Enclave Medical University. Both siblings, as well as their father Avery, had heard about yesterday's act of war by Aztlan, the first time Aztlanos had fired any weapon into the Enclave. They were aware of the fear that was boiling and circulating all around the five sectors. But Lenore and Larry both remembered how their father in the past had repeated stories to them that his grandmother had told him: stories of how Americans had reacted when America had been attacked by Japan. (These stories could no longer be told openly in America, since revised history now declared that World War Two had involved America SIDING WITH NAZI GERMANY in racist aggression against Japan, China, and other nonwhite nations.) Avery's grandmother had told how Americans in 1941 had roused themselves to fight, but at the same time had striven to keep some aspects of ordinary life going as before.

Lenore and Larry were not in a position to defeat Aztlano thugs in battle, if battle there was; instead, it was their duty to attend to the ordinary-life part. Almost a hundred students had applied by now to study medical specialties; the Glass family could only hope that the campus, and Rapid City as a whole, would still exist a month from now, to _let_ them study.

So it was that, after lunch, they went from Larry's office to the office of one Whipstrike Diamond, a woman who worked for the Undersecretary of Distribution. Since the Indoctrination Department no longer existed, there was no one who could effectively compete with the Distribution Department for control of W.E.M.U.; and Ms. Diamond had been entrusted with vetting all curriculum proposals from the exiles who would mostly be doing the actual work at the new university. Contrary to the implications of the first name she had invented for herself, Whipstrike was fat and sluggish; but happily, she had so far proven reasonably cooperative in facilitating the accumulation of educational materials and supplies. Now, however, the two siblings were going to have to confront her over a matter of some sensitivity.

When dealing with Fairness Party functionaries, it was good policy for the opening words to be uttered by a woman, the better to be heeded. Lenore placed a pile of papers on Whipstrike's desk (use of a dataphone or tablet computer being off limits to her) and said, "Citizen Diamond, thank you for agreeing to see us. I'm afraid we have a little problem with this aptitude test for new entrants."

Whipstrike looked at several pages, mostly the mathematical problems, then showed the exiles an expression of sincere bafflement. "I don't understand, this is a perfectly normal aptitude exam, such as is used for all colleges outside the fence."

Choosing her words carefully, Lenore explained, "A teenager outside the fence has enjoyed the _advantages_ of regular schooling and the Diversity Pioneers, to make sure she understands the Party's guidance. But adolescent exiles may not understand the _value_ of the questions on this test."

Larry recited an example: "If you study a case of the genetic flaw causing albinism, what insights would this give you into the way white male tribalists have historically oppressed other groups and hated everyone who was different?"
Whipstrike spread her hands, looking even more baffled. "But that's a perfectly orthodox question, integral to a curriculum that promotes the oneness of the collective."

"However," Lenore persisted, "the President herself has made it clear that she doesn't want to seem to deny credit to exiles for as much enlightenment as they have managed up to now. This aptitude test, if used in its present form, could seem to be denying that recognition."

Larry added, "And we believe that, if graduates of the new university get the chance to go into regular practice, then while they work at their new professions, they _will_ grow to understand more about society." He had managed to avoid saying that the new healthcare workers would actually come to _agree_ with the doctrines of the Party.

"First things first," said Lenore. "Allow us to concentrate on teaching the skills of doing healthcare, and political orthodoxy can be addressed later. It isn't as if any exile can get out into the general population without the government's permission, after all."

Whipstrike uttered a thoughtful grunt, then handed the papers back to Lenore. "I see your point. Since you have daily contact with several doctors and medical technicians, you have my approval to ask them to compose new aptitude questions."

"Thank you, Citizen Diamond. If we hurry, we can get a few technological questions out of Matti Siermaala before he leaves the country."

Whipstrike blinked, again uncomprehending. "Leaves?"

"Yes, remember, he's a foreigner, and his company wants him out of harm's way, in case Aztlan invades here."

"Invades? That's ridiculous! Once our own government apologizes for its racism as usual, and increases the electrical output for Aztlan, things will quiet down."

"Professor Siermaala himself doesn't seem to think so," Larry observed. "I guess he isn't as enlightened as President Atkinson."

When Lenore and Larry went to Sioux San Hospital and met Matti Siermaala, he surprised them with how quickly he jotted down a dozen appropriate exam questions about the basics of medical-diagnosis technology. Then, speaking in a secure office, he surprised them still more with a revelation that no gossip had prepared them for. It concerned the attractive African-American nurse who had helped keep Miguel De Soto alive when Kasim Rasulala had tried to murder him; the nurse who had subsequently begun learning the operations of Siermaala's ultrasound array.

"You folks must remember Zamoria Carter, the nurse who started assisting me at scanning sessions after Brendan and Josiah left? I always appreciated her work ethic, and she always behaved cordially toward me; but lately, she's been acting more than cordial. Believe it or not, and I scarcely believe it myself, she's been _throwing_ herself at me! And let me add, she started coming on to me _before_ the new Aztlano scare occurred."

"Sounds like an old man's dream," said Larry; "and modern medicine should make you perfectly capable of satisfying her. Life is short. Is there any reason why you _shouldn't_ take her up on it?"

Lenore slapped her brother's arm. "Stop that! The Professor is leaving the country soon, and he _isn't_ a man who would want a meaningless temporary fling!"

"My leaving the country surely has some bearing on this," the Finnish scientist told them. "She has hinted about wishing she could see my birthplace in Finland, and the African home I have now. I know about the case of that Egyptian-American woman who persuaded the Australian researcher to marry her and take her away to Australia with her children. As far as I've heard, things turned out happily for her. But Zamoria _isn't_ an exile; she's a member in good standing of the Secondary Healthcare Workers' Union. She could get out of the Enclave if she wants, _without_ needing to saddle herself with an old widower."

"Then maybe she wants to get _completely_ out of the Diversity States," Larry ventured; "and that, while not impossible, is difficult. Marrying you -- the Party wouldn't _call_ it marriage, but you get my meaning -- could open the door for her. I can't answer for whether she would _stay_ with you for life."

Lenore leaned closer to Professor Siermaala. "Well, I believe that Zamoria loves you for yourself!" she said, a bit irritated with her brother. "If I weren't burned on relationships, you're the kind of man I would want: smart, good-natured, honest and courteous. I admit I don't know Zamoria closely, but my gut feeling is that she does love you, and you should go for it. Just because I'm not happily married, doesn't mean that _someone_ shouldn't be."

Matti Siermaala sat in silence for half a minute. Then he stood up and announced: "Miss Glass, I believe you've convinced me. Finnish men are stereotyped as cold-blooded; but if there's any truth in that, Zamoria can thaw me out. And I'm going to give her the chance!"

Lenore couldn't resist following Siermaala as he marched out into the corridor and headed for the nursing desk where Zamoria could be found. Larry tagged along. If the siblings were hoping for a joyful scene, they were not disappointed: the scientist proposed marriage to the nurse then and there, and Zamoria flung herself into his arms with a fervor to rival the passion that the former Ma'at Wazir had for her Australian cavalier.
 
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Two days after Matti Siermaala hastily but lawfully married Zamoria Carter and took her away from all this, Grange reinforcements arrived at the Gas Hills uranium refinery complex. Led by Gabe Ellison, this party comprised all readily available Grange volunteers from the northwest corner of Wyoming Sector. With their coming, all members of the first Grange security force were free to go home. Only two stayed: Ladira Garvey, because of the friendship she had formed with Salwa Jalalu, and Alipang Havens, because there still was nobody in Sussex for him to go home for.

But at least some word of his family was to be forthcoming. On the day after Gabe's arrival, several Forest Rangers flew in by fixed-wing plane, led by Lyra Bender who was in charge of the sector's Forestry Service contingent. As soon as she found Alipang, Lyra told him, "Mark Terrell asked me to pass this news to you; he received it via international law-enforcement channels. Your wife up in Winnipeg heard that _someone_ from the Grange had been killed in the airship shoot-down, but the report she received didn't say _which_ Granger died. Poor Mrs. Havens feared the worst, of course; but by now, Mark will have sent word to her that _you're_ unhurt."

"Then God bless Ranger Terrell," sighed Alipang. "I hope that knowing I'm alive will be enough to prevent Kim from hurrying back here when we might be facing an invasion."

Lyra was aware that the five "spare" particle-beam projectors were finally being mounted on some of the otherwise noncombatant aircraft remaining to the Texas Rangers Enclave Aviation Detachment. But this was a need-to-know matter, and no civilian was regarded as needing to know, not even the brother-in-law of the Texan commander. There was, however, another aspect of defensive preparations which Alipang could be part of:

The building of low-tech defense works.

The reason why Lyra Bender had come to Gas Hills was not because a Muslim-raised kitchen worker needed still _more_ protection against imaginary Islamophobic rioters; it was because Lyra's party was responsible for preparations along a segment of the Enclave's southwestern perimeter which began due south of Gas Hills and ran west from there. Because of the increased electrical power supply being sent into Aztlan as appeasement, energy use inside the Enclave was having to be tightly budgeted (in fact, cooking at the dining hall for the miners and refinery workers was now being done over wood fires as much as possible); so the modest military-engineering project would now be carried out entirely with muscle power. At least the muscle power would include the muscles of draft horses where applicable.

Alipang, still barefoot since his reinforced feet were holding up very well, became a noble and exalted ditch-digger. Pits were being dug as rudimentary tank traps to catch any armored vehicles that might penetrate the fence; and there was also digging involved in the preparation of protected firing positions for marksmen. Alipang's toughened hands exempted him from any need for work gloves; he grasped the most jagged-edged rocks without suffering any harm, and his own inborn strength enabled him to handle easily the weight of rocks that most of his co-workers could not even have lifted. These unearthed rocks became building material for the redoubts the work party was building.

At a short rest break in the excavation work, Ranger Bender decided to make conversation with her top laborer. "Doctor Havens, I've heard from Emilio Vasquez that you like to read science fiction."

"So I do," replied Alipang, "apart from the Churchbuster trash written by the late Mr. Conklin. Not too long ago, my friend Mister Tomisaburo gave me a sci-fi book he turned up someplace: There Will Be Dragons, by John Ringo. It was one of those novels in which an advanced civilization suddenly loses its technical infrastructure, and suffers total chaos in which only those with useful primitive skills can help anyone."

"Hmm, that's a little bit like our country sending less-computer-dependent aircraft for China's use, with China being hit by cyber-warfare."

Alipang gazed to the south, the direction from which enemies might come. "A little bit like. Though the Chinese, even _with_ their current problem, could afford to be without those aircraft better than _America_ can afford to be without them right now."

"Have faith, Doctor Havens. There might be some resource for us that you don't know about."

"Faith itself is a resource our _government_ doesn't know about. But yes, I'll keep my chin up."

"Do you have a favorite sci-fi author?"

"Not one single favorite; I like many of them, if I can overlook the epidemic tendency for them to assume that future societies are bound to be nonstop orgies. But having read that John Ringo novel reminded me of an older and more widely-known work: Frank Herbert's Dune series. It also had to do with the fear of losing vital infrastructure. In that series, the infrastructure was all about the magic spice, which Herbert called 'spice' because he didn't want to _say_ 'drug.' But the analogies to our own more prosaic energy needs are plain enough. Ranger Bender, this Enclave we are standing in, this place we are trying to defend with nothing, IS OUR PLANET DUNE. Take this away from the Diversity States, and the Fairness Party won't be able to maintain _even_ the pauperish living standard the proletariat now enjoys."

Lyra frowned thoughtfully. "Do you think the Aztlanos have that in mind?"

"Can you seriously believe that they _don't?_ For these first five years of the partition of the former United States, the Aztlanos have been content to live as parasites, drinking up a portion of our country's energy output and giving nothing in return, while being allowed to make up transparent lies about us being anti-Hispanic bigots. But with Yellowstone standing up soon as an enlarged power source, and China seeming no longer interested in what happens to North America, why _wouldn't_ Aztlan get ambitious to grab the whole package? And there's something else. Have _you_ read the Dune series?"

"Well, I saw the old movie with Patrick Stewart in it."

"Close enough. You remember that the Galactic Emperor and the Harkonnen clan both wanted to get rid of the Atreides clan who were the good guys. So the Emperor pretended to do the Atreides clan a _favor_ by letting them take possession of the vital planet Dune; but he arranged for their defenses on Dune to be sabotaged, so they could be attacked by surprise and wiped out.

"Now, here on our Earthbound planet Dune, we have the key infrastructure in our possession, just as the Atreides clan on the fictional planet had possession of the source of the magic spice. And we Biblicals have been offered the _apparent_ benefits of greater freedom and employment opportunity, even higher education at the university that's getting started. It's become such a favorable deal that additional Biblicals coming into the Enclave no longer think of it as a _punishment_ at all -- rather, it's an _improvement_ in our lives all around.

"Only, it _isn't_ an improvement if it's really a trap."

Lyra now had the look of unpleasant ideas dawning. "But if you remember, no offense, that you Biblicals are _already_ powerless, why would anybody _need_ to 'trap' you?"

"It might have to do with being afraid that we'll realize we're _not_ so completely powerless. If all exiles acted in one accord, we could seize all the Enclave power plants, and threaten to cut off the power ourselves, regardless of what Aztlan may do. I trust that you have the brains to understand that I wouldn't mention this notion to you if I _wanted_ to try any such stunt. But someone might want to kill a bunch of us -- the strong-willed ones -- in one stroke, to make sure we _don't_ play that card. This is only speculation; but _you_ are affected by it as well."

"Affected how?"

"By your own _friendliness_ to us God-fascists. Consider this: just like the Harkonnens being removed from Dune to make way for the Atreides, the Campaign Against Hate was removed from the Enclave, and police entities much more friendly to Biblicals were assigned instead. Just look at my brother-in-law! If somebody someplace IS plotting a giant ambush, why not expand the plan to eliminate law-enforcement officers who are sympathetic to the Christians and Jews? We're all sitting on a target right now, and our ability to defend ourselves has been hamstrung."

Lyra glanced around to see if anyone was listening, before she said to Alipang, "If there is such a conspiracy, what do _you_ suggest we do?"

"Those of us who believe in prayer, will keep on praying. And we keep on digging tank traps and rifle pits. If I get any new inspirations, I'll mention them to Emilio."
 
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Around the time when Matti Siermaala married a black woman and left America, an already long-married couple with the same racial combination was _returning_ to America. The latter two people were American emigrants who had found asylum in Ireland, since Ireland had managed to avoid being swallowed by the Islamic Realm of Europe.

One thing both couples had in common, besides the white man-black woman match, was the fact that the woman in each case had actively pursued the man because of the kind of person he was.

The white husband in the couple coming back from Ireland, pushing sixty but still fairly fit in spite of never getting telomere preservation, was Danny Alyard, formerly a patrolman and then a detective with the New York City Police Department. His African-American wife Tashonda was about twenty years his junior, with a full figure and a pleasant face. When she had been younger, some had compared her appearance to the then-popular singer Mandisa.

Danny, long a bachelor after his first love deserted him, had found love unexpectedly -- on the night of a shootout with gangsters in Manhattan. Two black children, a small girl and a smaller boy, had strayed into the crossfire; Danny, still a patrolman at the time, had made a frantic dash to haul them to safety. He had succeeded in rescuing the children, at the price of getting hit himself. With a third of his small intestine shot away, Danny had lain in a coma for many days; and Tashonda, the single mother of the children he had saved, had kept a vigil at the hospital, begging God to keep her newfound knight in shining armor alive. When Danny recovered, Tashonda had made every overture to him she could think of; and fellow cops, forming a good impression of the young woman's sincerity, had encouraged the relationship.

Eventually, Danny had married Tashonda, becoming a father to the fatherless children he had saved. Of these, the boy had grown up to be the technician Jackson Alyard who was part of the "music raid" operation in Wismar on the Baltic Sea. Tashonda had borne other children to Danny besides. Except for Jackson who continued to work with the secret army, all of Danny and Tashonda's children were safe in Ireland right now, together with Tashonda's mother. But the parents, to all appearances merely tourists, were visiting their old stamping grounds in Manhattan.

"Remember Teresa's Hacienda?" Danny asked at one point. "I never tasted better quesadillas than theirs."

"And for Italian food, it was The Rooftop Gondola -- the two or three times we were able to afford it," replied his wife.

"Yeah. I wish I knew what became of Rodrigo Arabelli." Danny was referring to the owner of that Italian restaurant. "For that matter, I wish I knew just what happened to Jack and Sarah." Now Danny was referring to the policeman he used to patrol a beat with, and the policewoman whom the partner had married. Sarah had contracted AIDS due to a relationship occurring before she had met Jack, but she had been supernaturally cured. Unable to find out anything about them since the year 2020, Danny supposed that they had been done away with by the Fairness Party, which did not like to have Christians around who could bear witness to undeniable miracles.

"They're in God's hands," Tashonda murmured. "Let's go see a place with a happy association for you. Let's see if Lowell Sanders' old apartment building is still standing; then you can remember the night you and Jack saved that girl Tanya from committing suicide in front of it...."

The apartment building where the skirt-chasing Professor Lowell Sanders had once lived was there; but the private college that had been on the edge of Danny's old beat, the college at which the troubled girl Tanya had been a student, was gone. This was the college where Josiah Redfern had once worked and studied; Josiah and Danny had met now and then back in those days. "You can't go home again," the ex-cop remarked, recollecting how Josiah and his wife Melody had been forced by scheming enemies to move out of their Manhattan residence long before the Fairness Revolution.

Danny and Tashonda continued reliving old times, recalling incidents and acquaintances which are not a vital part of this narrative. But what they were doing _while_ seeing the old neighborhoods, _was_ something vital.

It so happened that, before leaving Ireland, both spouses had undergone an injection of highly sophisticated nanobots. Their function was an impressive one -- but would not be obvious to anyone who scanned either spouse for nanotechnology separately. Only when _both_ sets of nanobots were active did they perform their task; for these nanobots were designed to create a gestalt, a virtual antenna array that extended across two host bodies. The technology was very similar to what the late Etienne LaClede and his companions had used in the information-raid against the Islamic bank in Zurich.

As Danny and Tashonda Alyard strolled around New York City together, finding all changes to be for the worse, they were really doing a signal-search sweep. The virtual antenna array shared between them was looking for any radio transmissions which _didn't_ match some communications channel known to the secret army. For if there was an unexplained signal here, in a society that so tightly controlled communications, it could indicate the presence of hidden operatives.

And any such operatives might turn out to be the Venezuelan agents who were threatening to unleash a botanical plague against the soy supply of the Diversity States.

The secret army had many agents in America right now, doing the same thing the Alyards were doing. And other intelligence-collecting assets were at work besides. They wanted to stop the bio-warfare threat, not because the D.S. _government_ deserved help or sympathy, but because of all the innocent citizens who were menaced with famine. And because, if the Venezuelan threat were disarmed, then _even_ the spineless Atkinson administration ought to be willing to make more of an effort to equip the defenders of the Western Enclave.

 
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