The First Love Of Alipang Havens

Consider this post to be still within the major section "UPON THE NARROW PACIFIC," but here starting Chapter 145: PIRATES, JUST NOT OF THE CARIBBEAN. Assume that enough time elapses for Alipang to obtain transportation and rejoin Dominykas Bagdon on board the "Scavenger Queen."

Manuel the second engineer, with Alipang Havens close by, had been showing the Rand and Randall families around the ship. "Bueno, now we're getting it straight. The Randalls and the Rands have similar names. My last name sounds like the Capitan's first name, and his last name sounds like my first name. Confusing people's names can be funny. But on a ship at sea, if you confuse the identifying numbers of circuit panels or pressure valves, you can produce an engineering casualty."

Engineer Domingo had enough command of English, that Montu Randall was confident of the Peruvian being able to answer a question off on a tangent: "Sir, can you tell us why English speakers call the sides of a vessel 'port' and 'starboard'?"

Manuel nodded. "Before anything else, the word 'starboard' has nothing to do with stars in the sky. The explanation goes back long before the generation when Columbus sailed, as far back as any version of the English tongue.

"Ancient sailing boats had no steering wheels. The complete steering mechanism consisted of a long, sturdy oar, not contained inside the hull. The stern end would be just two or three meters wide, so it wasn't necessary for this rudder to be placed on the centerline. The average human being is right-handed, so the steering oar was attached over the rail to the steersman's right."

Montu anticipated the next part. "Oh! So the word 'star' here is a form of the verb 'to steer'."

"Bueno! That left the other side of the little ship to be accounted for. The side-mounted oar could have been damaged if that side of the craft came up near the dock. So, the remaining side was the side toward the sea-port, thus the 'port' side."

Nodding, Bert put in: "I know enough of the Russian language to say that their sailors just speak of a left side and a right side. This may be because they're not historically a big seafaring people, so had less incentive to develop nautical slang."

"But it still is good to have a distinct job-related vocabulary. Let your left foot be your left foot, and your left ear be your left ear; but if I say to look port or starboard, you'll instantly know I mean the ship's right or left side, not yours."

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On the following morning, Meretseger Randall was voluntarily standing a lookout watch. Thanks to her stepfather being a reserve naval operations officer, she happened to know how the terms "bow" and "quarter" fitted into the seagoing geometry that Manuel Domingo had expounded. Thus did it come to pass that the young Egyptian-American dancer knew what to say when a certain interruption of routine occurred.

Norris Guthrie had just helped Adelma Oliveira to haul a compressed-nitrogen tank onto the foredeck for inspection of a potential pressure leak. At the same time, Alipang happened to be nearby, doing simple warmup exercises which went all the way back to his happy older days training with Master Pitik. His compound bow, filling less three-dimensional space than a longbow, had its own corner on deck, a spot which Dominykas had said was all right to keep it, with its quiver. These four souls were the only people exposed on deck at the moment. One other was within Meretseger's reach, just inside the enclosed bridge: George Preston, who had been taught to man the helm.

The girl poked her head inside the wheelhouse, to speak softly. "Mister Preston: low-silhouette craft astern, to starboard, overtaking. Possible weapon mount forward." The alert was passed just as quietly.

Norris asked Adelma, "Should we get this tank below?"

"No. If the strangers are attackers, we need every weapon." A hammer hung at the Brazilian lady's side; hefting it, she gestured at the faulty valve. She didn't need to say more; Norris helped her to move the nitrogen tank. Alipang needed no prompting to help them shift it into place.

Meretseger scrambled down to tell them: "The stranger doesn't reply." Adelma answered her: "Very well, now get below." Then the chief engineer faced Alipang. "This missile isn't guided, I only expect it to startle those pirates. But you can aim your arrows."

Any doubt of the interloper's attitude was dispelled when an apparent railgun projectile shattered the roof of the wheelhouse, less than two feet above George's head. Ducking, he brought the ship to starboard, signaling the engines to slow down as if in capitulation. this also gave Adelma a clear line of fire. At her signal, Norris crashed his hammer onto the valve, and the nitrogen cylinder took flight. It left behind it a blast of bitter cold, which is what happens when any strongly-compressed gas is abruptly released. The tank missed the pursuing boat, but came close enough to evoke startled yells from the pirates.

Alipang gave the enemy something to yell about. His first arrow hit the base of the railgun's mount. His next shot burst against the attacker's freeboard, less than a foot above the waterline. Meanwhile, Vartan, Vartui and Bert all took stations with rifles, and opened fire on any hostile figure they could see. Center-mass aim, no shoulder-grazing Lone Ranger shots.

The pirates-- led by the earlier-mentioned Usman bin-Imran, a man eager to torment and kill defenseless victims-- had expected an easy capture, followed by nasty amusement at the expense of the infidel women. In a touch of appropriate justice, the same Vartui Yenovkian whom this lot had hoped to get hold of, let off the shot which made an end of Usman. In short order, the smugness of these Barbary-Pirate wannabe's turned into demoralized capitulation. Before another hour passed, naval forces that were keeping tabs on Bert Randall would arrive to collect the surviving barbarians. Dominykas taking Queen Scavenger's bridge freed George to assist in securing the prisoners for now. The pirates' railgun would be handed over to the Australians for examination.

In the aftermath, George and Vartan embraced Vartui and Adelma respectively, their fervor ending any doubt over where these two relationships were heading from here. Meanwhile, arriving in eternity, it didn't take long for Usman bin-Imran to realize that he wasn't going to receive his promised seventy virgins.
 
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"Uncle Alipang told us you'd be able to estimate where his house used to be, by sighting on that point in the hills." Ransom Kramer, son of the gallant SEALS veteran who had been like an uncle to the children of Eric and Cecilia, had long regarded Alipang as having inherited Wilson's role as an upholder and an encourager. Ransom's Enclave-met Amish wife Lydia, now nursing their baby Nehemiah (named for Lydia's mother-side grandfather), had heard enough about Wilson Kramer's great heart, that she could no longer feel any of the reflexive Amish disdain for warriors.

Now visiting the bulldozed site of Smoky Lake as Alipang had recently done, Lydia could see the small city's former life condensing in the air all around her. Being shown where Alipang and Chilena's high school had stood, she could imagine the long-ago scene where her deceased father-in-law had affirmed his forgiveness to her still-living mother-in-law. Military men were supposed to be poisoned in their souls by the madness of war, but no Amish man Lydia knew could practice Christian forgiveness any better than "Deputy Dawg" had practiced it. Without this genuine godliness on Wilson's part, Ransom would never have existed to become her husband and little Nehemiah's father.

"Ransom, dear, were there ever any Plain people in Smoky Lake?"

"Not that I ever heard of, nor in Shilohsville or in Plattford. But there were pacifists: notably in the education community, and at All Directions Unitarian Church. By all accounts, however, none of them ever excelled the Havens family for decency and kindness."

Evan and Summer Rand, with their own children, had been doing their own walking tour, visualizing where Longstreet Park and other sites had been. Michael, their firstborn but psychologically stunted because of institutional abuse, stuck very close to his father, who was one of the very few adult males whom he didn't fear since his liberation. Eventually the two parties met up again; there was no great difficulty finding each other again when lines of sight had no structures to block them. They all sat on the pavement for their picnic lunch. Evan had seen to it that they didn't sit on or near any of the most offensive images in the degenerate pavement-mural.

Before they said a final goodbye to this place of desecrated memories, Anne-Marie Rand announced: "I want to improvise a dance that can stand for a prayer. I'll be praying for people everywhere to understand the negative example of what the Fairness Party did to this precious village. Praying that those who falsely boast of 'opposing hate,' while delighting in oppression, will be put to shame."

Her father Evan videocorded her heartfelt performance, with a date-and-time entry. Her poem-writing fanboy Tommy Salisbury would eventually have the enjoyment of seeing it.

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There were people in Georgetown, Delaware who remembered when the Salisburys had lived there. One family, the Westmarks, had reluctantly put their children in Leon Trotsky Middle School while Tommy Salisbury had been there. Now they were sufficiently recovering from the Diversity States nightmare that they could own a sizeable motorboat, one with sleeping space and twin propane-fueled engines on. Contacting Evan Rand, Mister Westmark offered to give the Rand party a boat ride to Assateague Island: the place where people from Smoky Lake (when there had been a city of Smoky Lake) used to go to see the protected wild horses.

They ended up regretting it.

"What's that pillar?" Summer asked on the afternoon when they arrived. "And where are the horses?"

"I was afraid we would find this," Mister Westmark sighed. "You probably remember how the Fairness Party caused millions of meat animals to be butchered, and their flesh rendered to prevent anyone from receiving protein by eating meat? The Pinkshirts, maybe requiring Forest Rangers to do the dirty work, must have ordered wholesale destruction of all the horses."

It was as the boat's owner expected. The pillar bore a bronze placard, stating that the Assateague horses had been rendered and composted because eating meat caused people to turn into Church-Nazis who hated everyone that was different.

Summer wept. "Those filthy snakes! Like pirates drowning helpless voyagers!"

"And for an ugly irony," Evan muttered, "I'll bet nobody involved in the extermination realized that Hitler was a vegetarian."
 
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"How is the air-cushion skirt holding up?" Prentice Kerang, Bert Randall's Native Australian friend, asked Captain Truman Farmer. Truman, commanding a brand-new ocean-capable hovercraft homeported in Seattle, didn't use a tribal name, but was verifiably descended from chiefs of the seafaring Duwamish tribe. (No connection to the >Amish< people.)

"Right up to specs. Consistent air containment, and responds precisely for all adjustments for turns."

While the 21st-century Pacific Ocean has been metaphorically described as narrow, it remained physically large. Our current scene, no pun intended, takes place >way< far east of where Alipang and the Queen Scavenger were at work, the latter being off toward the Japan Current. Prentice was on board Captain Farmer's vessel as a representative of Fleet Operations Officer Bert Randall, assessing the hovercraft's performance. If Tactical Hovercraft DW-1 continued functioning as efficiently as it was right now, the Australian Admiralty would soon expedite a purchase order, extending at least up through DW-10.

Bert had recommended that, as each new long-range hovercraft was commissioned for service, its enlisted crew should be invited to vote on a name for their ship. Truman liked the suggestion. Historically, most Native American tribes had allowed all adult members to speak their minds in the presence of their chiefs.

One mess deck aboard DW-1 was shared by all ranks. Prentice ate next to Able Seaman Walter Hovlund, a man who could speak both Native Australian and the language of the Duwamish tribe. In the former tongue, keeping his facial expression relaxed, Prentice told his shipmate: "You know how my people often experience accurate premonitions: not a matter of us casting spells, just a gift we don't control. I have a spirit-hunch right now. Seaman Pierce has been tampered with. At some time before we embarked, without Pierce's knowledge or consent, someone he met in port injected skin-penetrating nanobots into his brain. I don't know what the nanobots were supposed to do, but it obviously wasn't anything for >our< benefit."

Maintaining a calm expression, Hovlund took the soonest opportunity to pass the alert in the Duwamish language. By Captain Truman's orders, other crewmen placed the tampered-with sailor under the mildest possible arrest. In the outcome, naval technicians managed to neutralize the uninvited nanobots, going on to extract any possible intelligence from them.

It was never determined what the unseen saboteurs had meant to accomplish, but Hovlund was restored to normal, and fleet-wide readiness against high-tech sabotage was increased.

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NEXT: The newest major section is called BLAZING A TRAIL FOR POSTERITY. Now, if you combine my roguish love for puns with my serious desire that Summer's honorable husband should get his turn at center stage doing righteous Christian deeds, you get the title of Chapter 146, which is:

"EVAN, LET YOUR LIGHT SHINE DOWN"
 
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"There is a very old saying about rules and systems," Evan told his hearers. "Funny thing about the situation in that saying: some who say it, like the thought, while others hate it. The saying is 'Whatever is not absolutely required, is absolutely forbidden.' All of you have lived under that rule, even if you didn't understand what it meant. The Fairness Party told you it was loving and mutual to have everything controlled that way. But since the country has found its new version of hope and change, we should give it a try while we're together here with Ms. Broadville and Ms. Reeve."

The Mennonite ladies Evan identified were people who knew people who knew the history of Summer and Evan's epic quest to regain their children. They had pulled strings to bring the Rands here, where Broadville and Reeve were mothering preteens who had lived on the trampled end of collective oneness. Michael and Anne-Marie, staying beside their mother, were anticipating their own role in what Daddy was leading up to.

"Now, young citizens of the future, let us recalibrate the saying which Pinkshirts loved to recite. Now let us say: 'Whatever is not absolutely forbidden, is absolutely permitted.' Let us try out an exercise which gives permission to revise the familiar procedure of Equalityball." He looked at Ms. Reeve, who knew her cue. The Mennonite mentor walked among the local children, carrying a cup full of toothpicks: a number of toothpicks equal to the number of these children. The concealed bottom ends of three toothpicks were colored, a fact that did not pass unnoticed. Ms. Broadville, having the louder voice of the two, explained the plan.

"Let everyone be clear on this. Please line up in the usual manner for Equalityball; you can see where the soccer balls are. When everyone's in place, including Anne-Marie and Michael, the down-field advance will begin. The juvenile person who received the red-tipped toothpick will begin the march, and will call temporary halts whenever she or he chooses. After two lengths, the person holding the black toothpick will take over in the same fashion. The person having the green toothpick will begin the final round, then bring the exercise to the grand finale. By their own timing, this person will shout 'Run.' At this call, everyone will sprint away in a random direction, only watching out not to knock anyone else down. Each of you run around until you get tired, then relax and collect the soccer balls."

The Rand children took their Equalityball positions together. When the call to start running came, Anne-Marie led her brother by the hand so they would run their weaving course together. She could tell that he felt better this way. At the end, Michael had gotten into the spirit well enough that, in the tidying-up stage, he handed his sister her own ball to put away. Both of them sensed that their new acquaintances had enjoyed the innovation.

Ms. Reeve said to Summer, "Your husband's variant stimulated them nicely. I look forward to the next time they play Anarchathlon. And I expect our colleagues at other sites to try the new style for themselves."

After the exercise, Ms. Broadville asked Evan, "Where have your twins been lately?" She was referring to Grant and Grace, younger than Michael and Anne-Marie.


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The post below this one is one of my past-episodes reviews. Post #2166 will resume Chapter 146.
 
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I just realized that I _haven't_ recently posted the sort of review I furnished at intervals while I was writing "First Love" years ago. Here, accordingly, I _shall_ provide some reminders of what's been going on since the the Yellowstone supervolcano _wasn't_ cracked open and the Western Enclave _was_ cracked open. (Real-world events being relentless, I won't bother with strict chronological order, just remind you that such-and-such things did happen at some point.)

As part of preventing a genocidal bombing of Yellowstone, Texas Ranger Emilio Vasquez got to shine once more as a helicopter ace, killing numerous Aztlano troops including Major-General Ramon Ybarra. One firefight in this conflict produced collateral damage, in the form of a pre-teen exile named Roxanne Baylor losing her parents. Bill and Lorraine Shao assumed guardianship of Roxanne.

Somewhere back there, it was verified that the wimpy fellow Jerry "Gerbil" Sunderberg, who assisted the thugs who murdered Wilson Kramer, had done this only because his own loved ones would have been slain if he refused. Later, during the small bitter war to liberate the Enclave, Gerbil became an innocent-bystander casualty, losing an arm and a leg on the same side. By now, he has prosthetic limbs, courtesy of a pro-bono surgeon.

Ranjit Karkal exorcised the evil spirits which had been leading the cousins Tim and Chida Govinda into crazy delusions and white-collar crime respectively. Being from different family branches though sharing a surname, Tim and Chida got married after being set free and mentally cured. So much more satisfaction for Alipang, who had suffered serious injuries shielding Tim against a mob attack.

Before going back to the plastic-recovering ship, Alipang went with Kim to see what had become of their old hometown. It turned out that the Fairness Party, before its collapse, had committed a cowardly act of spite, totally destroying Smoky Lake.

Before Jessica Trevette's regime failed, Summer Heron-Rand had spent time in prison on bogus charges; during this ordeal, a guard had hacked off the ring finger and little finger of her left hand, in order to steal her wedding ring. After Summer's release, she and Evan began looking for their children who were in, ha ha, "protective" custody. Notably, Anne-Marie Rand had become a professional- quality ballet dancer, even learning to dance in three dimensions under weightless conditions. Tommy Salisbury, the poet son of Dan and Chilena, has a crush on Anne-Marie, who is not discouraging him.

A while back, Sunki Pavatea the Hopi sacred clown saved the life of naval veteran Morton Tannenburg. Morton thus not only could marry his fiancee Gloria Cervantes, but also could testify against the Aztec-Maoist Republic before the Bi-Continental Assembly. This drove the final stake through the heart of the homicidal Formentera regime. Sunki found a reward of his own in the love of a scientist named Nora Daley, who had been forced to work for the Formenteras.

The David Redfern formerly known as Daffodil has by now recovered almost 100 percent from the weirdness his test-tube mother Samantha Ford imposed on him. Assisting with David's normalization is Vonetta Ashford, a Smoky Lake High School alumna.

>> PAGE 107 CONSISTS LARGELY OF COMMENTS, DATING BACK TO WHEN THIS STORY THREAD WAS FULLY FRESH, NOT YET HAVING BEEN DROPPED TO BE REVIVED YEARS LATER.

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"It's okay, Michael, they won't bite or kick," said Evan. "If they come up to you, they just want to smell you. They're not afraid of people, or angry at people. When they get their wool sheared off each spring, it's at a time when they're glad to get rid of their winter coats and feel the breeze."

The Rands were now in west Nebraska, visiting the new sheep ranch now belonging to the Basque-descended Beltran Ugarte and his wife Phoebe. Michael's self-confidence had gained ground by his father's recent gambit with Equalityball. He had not yet spoken to the Ugartes' children, but neither did he try to avoid their gaze. Summer could see that her traumatized boy was being reassured further by the sight of his sister joining the Basque- American kids in petting the lambs. Phoebe whispered to Summer: "You probably never heard this, but Beltran decided long ago that he would never slaughter a lamb. We let them have a lifespan, and eventually put them down in the most humane way possible. Learning about the halal approach to butchering redoubled our determination about this. If you've ever read Temple Grandin's books, you'll recognize her as a role model for Beltran and me."

Mister Ugarte added a word of his own: "Meanwhile, due to the very fact of having adult mutton rather than lamb chops to sell, we can sell more total meat to Nebraskans who are just beginning to appreciate complete protein."

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Emilio and Melody had sufficient funds in the reconstructed banking system that they could happily subsidize the travels of their friends the Rands. The Vasquez {Spanish speakers keep a surname in singular form when referring to multiple members of a family} had racked up enough worthy achievements in the Diversity States era, that they couldn't begrudge some satisfactions to Summer and Evan after all the hardships the Rands {not plural, because not a Spanish surname} had endured. It was logical to bring Summer, Evan, Michael and Anne-Marie to visit the Texas Ranger branch of the extended family.

"How do you steer when the main rotor can only push air straight down?" Michael asked while he and Anne-Marie were being treated to a helicopter ride. Emilio replied: "Excellent question! If I say 'pitch,' do you know what I mean?"

"I'm sorry, Uncle Emilio, I don't know."

The intrepid Ranger extended one arm and gently patted the boy's shoulder. "You don't need to apologize, you didn't do anything wrong. About a century ago, a wise cowboy named Will Rogers said: 'All of us are ignorant, just on different subjects'."

Michael squeezed the strong, benevolent hand in gratitude. Anne-Marie spoke for her brother: "Thank you, Uncle Emilio. I think 'pitch' has something to do with tilting or tipping."

"That's right. While a helo is aloft, the rotors always have some degree of tilt in order to direct the air they pass through. The leading edge of each rotor blade needs to slant upward, so as to drive air downward, or we could never take off in the first place. But one more detail is necessary in order for us to do anything besides going straight up and coming straight back down again. The feature which makes helicopter travel possible is variable pitch. Our control system is so sensitive and responsive that it can change the tilt at selected stages of each super-fast circle that each blade makes. You may have noticed that as long as we are moving forward, our nose is pointed a bit downward; that's because my engine guidance is making each blade slant more forcefully when it's in the rearward part of its turn. More air pushing down behind makes us move forward. Just watch the tilt change when I bank left and right, then move to the rear."

After the demonstration was complete, Michael finally smiled again. "Gracias, Uncle Emilio. I get it now. Anne-Marie, Uncle Emilio has his own way of dancing!"

Emilio added: "Almost nobody alive today remembers that there used to be a type of aircraft called an autogyro. It was shaped like a regular airplane, with wings and a front propeller but also a rotor. It would use a runway like like an airplane, and its forward motion would make the rotors turn to lift the autogyro. These rotor blades never changed their pitch angle, because the autogyro's direction of travel didn't depend on them."

He glanced at Anne-Marie. "Just as there's more than one way to use the laws of aerodynamics, so there's more than one way to train the movements of a human body. As you learned to dance both in gravity and weightless, so all sorts of arts can have a menu of alternate styles. I think your mother will soon discover that this concept can apply to her."

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After this visit ended, the next stage was farther north, to see Terrance and Harmony in their quarters at the "Gaia's Gizzard" site. The presence of the unborn Bruce inside Harmony was not yet visible from the outside. Michael still had not forgotten being told by Fairness Party demagogues that inferior males were unworthy to open their mouths on reproductive subjects; his father, therefore, did the questioning about Harmony's pregnancy.

When enough relevant things had been said all around, Harmony raised a new subject.

"We don't speak about it much, but Terrance and I together pull in very good wages. That was true even before we confessed our love to each other, and the recycling firm has always provided many of our needs. As a result, by the time we knew we could be really together, we had a serious cash reserve built up. Translation: we can cover Bruce Chu-Tam's needs, and afford something really nice for you." Her eyes held Summer's eyes. "Nora Daley-Pavatea accrued major prestige for her work on Alipang's hands and feet, and she's planning a very different enhancement for you."

Summer waited, clueless, for the reveal.

"You know that nanobot injections can impart new skills to a recipient. This one's mucho ambitious. You, Summer, always wanted to be a pianist, just never had time when you were taking care of your father. But the experimental cavalry is riding to the rescue. A nanotechnical program now exists which not only can impart knowledge about piano playing, it will specifically enable you to play adaptations of great piano pieces with two fingers missing."

Summer's unplanned tears completely soaked Harmony's left shoulder.
 
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Nora, Terrance and Harmony kept Summer company there on the Gaia's Gizzard property, while Evan convoyed his children to a town in South Dakota: a town east of where Bert Randall had first met Ma'at, Montu and Meretseger. A care-worn but still beautiful blonde woman met them at the still-operational Atmosfleet airport on the outskirts.

"Mister Rand? My name is Holly Brighton. I know a bit about your family. You were close to the Havens family in Smoky Lake, while there still was a Smoky Lake. I'm here to clear away the brushwood for you. A spacious theater has been fixed up and made suitable for the dancers. As it happens, the backstage technical crew is more proficient than the corps-de-ballet kids; but I still have time to get them all pulling the same rope." She looked at Anne-Marie. "You, Miss Rand, are going to be the prima ballerina; and your brother will make the fantasy coherent with his narration."

Michael abruptly blurted: "But what if I get stage fright?"

Holly smiled. "Your father will make sure that you don't freeze.... because you will be telling the story to him, not to the strangers in the seats. We'll place you and him in chairs, facing each other, not facing the crowd. You father will begin with something like, 'What have you learned about the legend of the Swan Princess?' You can even be holding the script on your lap, as if you were absorbed in the story until he asked you about it. All you'll need to do is put feeling in the story. The page margins will even have cues for you, like 'After Siegfried says thus-and-so, the trombones blow a fanfare'."

"Are you saying that the dancers will talk?"

"Sorry, I mean to say that you say that characters are supposed to be saying this or that."

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Canonically, the villain Rothbard was supposed to try to divert Prince Siegfried from rescuing the avianized Princess Odette by tricking him into courting Odile, the also swan-morphed daughter of the sorcerer. Then the prince wasn't allowed to be able to do anything more useful than die with his true love. Screw that! was the attitude of absolutely everyone working on this production, especially Holly Brighton. People who had survived the Diversity States era had lived enough misery.

As a lingering trace of the old regime's obsession with imaginary Nazis, and because nobody black was supposed to be evil unless they were Christians, Odile was changed into "Lady SWAN-stika." Her plumage was as white as Odette's, only marked with many swastikas. In Holly's chosen climax, the virtuous prince fetched a realistic simulated machine gun from behind a piece of scenery, "fatally" shot Rothbard, took Odile over his knee and spanked her (with sound effects making his actually-light palm-touches seem ferocious), then kissed the noble Odette, making her shed the removable feather-suit.

Standing ovation led to a bustling cast-crew-and-most-of-the-audience party. There was an authentic grand piano, and Summer Rand owned it. All vigorous tunes for the first hour, mixing in some slow numbers in the second hour, and more slow than vigorous in the third hour. The lively numbers included "In the Mood," "Crocodile Rock," "Doing the Jersey Bounce," "Rock This Town," "Saturday Night Fever," "Ballroom Blitz," "And Your Bird Can Sing," "Pink Cadillac," and "The Boys are Back."

Holly remarked to Evan, "You're such a good husband!-- not interrupting her performance, letting her have her fun."

"It's fun for me to see her having fun. But as a good friend, you can make sure someone takes over the piano before it's all done, so I can dance a few dances with Summer."

Summer did appreciate Evan being so accommodating, and even urged him to dance one time each with Holly and with the Swanstika dancer. Still not the end. As far as she could keep going, Summer emphatically rewarded her man for his loving care of her. The next day, it was back to being attentive parents with Michael and Anne-Marie. Life was good; and no, a horror- movie monster didn't suddenly spring up to devour them when they thought they were safe.
 
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"There was one time, while making my rounds, that I arrived at one clinic where they had virtually NO dental- care supplies. But the folks there were superb do-what-you-can artists. They were using salt water as dental rinse, and lengths of fishing line as floss. I praised them to the skies. Even now that logistics are mostly normal, there'll always be a place for outside-the-box thinkers."
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Alipang Havens was addressing faculty and students at New Texas Medical University, formerly Western Enclave Medical University. Kimberly and little Peggy were in the audience. When his talk ended, Kimberly reminded him of the next stop on their itinerary.

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"The last time I was in Boulder, the Aztec-Maoists were still calling it Sisepuede. I'm glad you changed it back."

Santiago Sanchez, a veteran journalist of the freedom-friendly Mexican Alliance, was in the middle of his own first-ever extensive tour of Colorado. He had not, in any speech, bothered to mention that the old hope-and-change crowd had lazily mistranslated the Spanish phrase "Si, se puede." Its correct meaning was "Yes, >IT< can be done," but the forerunners of the Fairness Party had rendered this as "Yes, >WE< can." For them, only the emotions had mattered.

There was one Anglo quote which Santiago was including in every talk he gave on this goodwill tour. It was from Benjamin Franklin: "Passion may drive, if reason holds the reins." The White House would never have become the Rainbow House, and law enforcement in the United States would never have become K.G.B.-Light, if Americans had not chosen the easy downhill path of letting feelings do all their thinking.

When the press conference ended, Alipang was the first non-journalist non-official to whom Santiago talked.

"Your handshake proves it's all true about your skin treatment. Have they repeated it on anyone else yet?"

"Not that I've been told." Alipang shrugged. "But I'm on the outdoor side of need-to-know."

"And how is your new daughter?" Santiago asked Kim.

"I'm in home school, just like my Daddy," Peggy replied for herself. "Mommy even showed me a Mayan calendar."

"Soon," said Kim, "we're going to visit the Rands. They were close friends to us in Virginia, back in the day."

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"Are my older kids behaving themselves for you and Esteban?" Kimberly asked her mother via the satellite link.

"Wilson's keeping them in line," replied Elizabeth Zapata. "Are you and Al helping Summer and Evan to rebuild?"

"Sure trying. We'll spend time with them after they retrieve their twins for a full house."

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Weeks after Grace and Grant were reunited with their parents, the consolidated family received a uniformed visitor from Canada: a female colonel in the Canadian Air Force.

"Good afternoon, Mrs. Rand; I was told about you by Kimberly Havens, when she and her children were being protected at our base during a regional conflict started by Islamists. My name is Constance Auclair. Madame Havens told me about your husband's powerful gift for comforting distressed children."

Summer cocked her head. "Have you got some distressed children at your base?"

"We have. Orphaned by terrorist raids. And although the murderers of their parents did not escape from justice, the very locale where the murders happened is a persisting trauma for the orphans. If we subsidize all material necessities for the project, including a salary for Mister Rand, would he be willing to tackle coaxing these grieving children out of a darkness they never asked for?"

"Willing? Evan would be disappointed if you didn't recruit him!" So it was that Evan Rand secured a hugely satisfying job which would keep him busy, and would benefit needy Canadian children, for months to come.
 
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C H A P T E R ____ 1 4 7 : ____ The Only Certainty Is Uncertainty

Matti Siermaala's wife Zamoria had successfully given birth to their daughter Rauha. Their friends Josiah and Melody Redfern were delighted by the news, and remotely introduced their own whole family to Rauha at the first opportunity. An in-person visit to Africa by the Siermaalas became a to-do item, date still to be determined.

Filling the interval, Ranjit and Josephine Karkal came down to get acquainted with the Siermaalas. Tim and Chida Govinda came too, glad to spend time with the man God had used for their deliverance. {(AUTHOR'S NOTE: I know the Govindas don't have children yet, but I'm not sure whether I've let the Karkals have a child yet. So if I did, just assume that their son or daughter is present.)} Raleigh Akello spoke about his adventure in Uganda, when Josiah had saved his life. Tim and Chida spoke about the spiritual progress they had made since Ranjit conducted their wedding. Matti spoke about his experiences back in America, at Sioux San Hospital and elsewhere, particularly relishing the memories of his courtship with his African-American wife Zamoria.

On the second day, several of Brendan Hyland's subordinates came visiting, with news to share about goings-on at the Nigerian Vatican. Brendan's personnel, working with Peruvian naval units, had pulled off a series of strikes against warriors of the never-tiring Babylonian Caliphate. This had included blocking a Babylonian attempt to raid Argentinian shipping. The aggressors had employed camouflaged frigates, just like the tactic they had tried against Queen Scavenger.



This left Josiah in Africa, back in his role as a medical technologist, working north of the Vatican: riding an armored-truck convoy into northern districts, showing under-equipped rural physicians how to use the up-to-date imaging technology he was overseeing. Whenever the local personnel settled on treatment plans for all current patients, Josiah's crew hit the dirt road for the next under-equipped clinic. Josiah was at peace with his pledge to be all healer.

Yes, preserving life. Relying on scouts of whom some had as much combat experience as Josiah. Or probably did. Or almost as much. Maybe good enough in a low-threat environment. Famous last words.

Intuition told the drivers by ear-bug transceiver, "Blur projectors, make smoke, evasive action!" Intuition scooped up his just-in-case rail rifle with drum magazine. Intuition listened and heard a turbine-engine helicopter.

As he jumped out of the lead truck, he knew another shooter was exiting each following truck, identically armed. Truck number two dodged just far enough left that the first rocket missed. Missed just enough that the men in it were only badly wounded, not slain. All his riflemen were firing steadily, estimating line of fire into the airborne blur. One of the men must have hit the holographic cloaking device, for the helo suddenly became visible. But Josiah's shooters were professionals; gaining advantage against the flying threat didn't mean failing to watch ground level. Sure enough, a rifle grenade rocked another truck; Josiah hoped the lifesaving medical-imagery equipment would survive inside its durable crates.

Healer, yes-- but healer to all people equally? Even the Quaker, Sergeant York, had realized that some lives had more claim on him than others. Not killing Germans on that French battleground would have been abandoning his own men to death. Sorry, Melody, but not sorry. Peace later, when the outlying clinics are secure.

The rearmost rail-gunner was the most experienced guard. He was watching the convoy's six through eight. The defenders derived enough advantage from the helicopter's failure that only four of them died, with twice as many hurt. Josiah and his top shooter were moving randomly enough to continue out-evading their foes. Another quarter hour verified no fewer than thirteen Jihadis (which was what these were) dead. Josiah suffered a rip across his ribs, which didn't stop him from transmitting his report. Personnel of Brendan Hyland's Vatican guards reacted; Josiah could let them question prisoners.



By the time his wife and children could be gathered to see him, they knew they would find him wounded, and why. It was unsaid but obvious that Melody was grieved that Josiah had been forced to draw blood once more. Josiah relieved her from the awkwardness of having to speak first. Having kissed her from where he lay, he tried to smile, while she tried not to cry too obviously.

"Yes, I sort of backslid. Spirit of the law rather than the letter of the law. God witness, I wasn't nostalgic for combat; it came looking for me. Leadership's been stretched thin lately. I did remember how I had already proven that I still had what it took; but I was responsible for those men, personal satisfaction or no personal satisfaction. Word of honor, I'll be overjoyed if I can be a healer like Pedro from now on. This isn't fun."

Kissing him fiercely, she soaked his face with her tears. "I know you mean it. I know you never liked violence for its own sake. I won't nag you anymore, I'll just ask God to allow you to be a healer all the time."

Josiah kissed her even more fiercely, then said, "Your voice is music to me, even if you do nag. We'll discuss the subtleties of that matter in a few days, privately, when I have near-normal range of motion."



"I'm glad I got to see the mineral collection from the Colorado School of Mines. Superb variety." On sabbatical from his work as a space station safety guard, Nyunt Zehar heard that his acquaintance Najoud Mavandi was also back on Earth: from the Moon in her case. A vocational college in Shandong had to fill a canceled lecture slot in the geology department. Najoud's presentation had addressed the rock layers under the Lunar surface.

After listening to more about exo-mineralogy, Nyunt asked: "Is anyone in that faculty comparing Lunar bedrock studies with what's known about Martian strata? And if yes, is India the point?"

"Yes, in terms of observing how busy Indians are. That is, their experts are almost certainly speculating how easily they could build sub-surface habitats like what we have on Luna."

"And is it problematic for Greater China if they do seriously colonize Mars?"

Najoud smiled. "On the contrary, we hope they will settle in there. It means they're not competing for mastery of the Moon. If they commit to developing Mangal-- that's Hindi for Mars-- and make it a huge success, they're all right with prospering far away, whatever China does on Earth and in near-Earth space."

 
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Brendan Hyland already knew that Blake Matthews, the SEALS veteran who had saved Alipang and Kimberly from assassins, had been settled in Eldoret, Kenya, with much of his extended family, plus ex-hoodlum Larry Mannering also with relatives; but a surprise awaited.

"I know that you'll remember a hoodlum named Rattler Collins," Rowena Matthews told the visiting soldier. "But you might not have heard that Collins is here now. Larry searched him out when we heard that his sentence was ended. Boot me if Larry didn't lead the Rattler to Jesus from the other side of the world!"

Blake added, "Some of my contacts made it possible for the karate crook to move out to Kenya. Now Rattler has a well-paying factory job, with a chance at shift foreman."

Brendan shook hands vigorously with Blake and Rowena. "I have six more locations to inspect, but tell Rattler Collins that I'm happy for him. I'll definitely attach five rosaries to my intention-prayers for him."



In the suburbs of Beijing, Pang Biao-Tu the political schemer met with two older women who served her as network reconnaissance. Fu Ip-Shi was tracking Vietnamese gangsters operating in southwest China, while Ying Wa-Lu studied the probing of Japanese gangsters across northeast China.

A week after Brendan's visit to Kenya, Wa-Lu told Biao-Tu, "The Japanese have been receiving visitors from Canada, Samoa and Hawaii." Ip-Shi said, "The Vietnamese are putting out feelers to petty gangs in Australia and Chile, offering assistance for them to grow stronger."

Pang Biao-Tu absorbed the details cheerfully. Playing the long game had always been organic to Chinese culture. Factoring in her anticipation of exponential space exploration, she hoped to live long enough to create an interplanetary Chinese Empire. If it should prove expedient to let the Indians keep Mars, Biao-Tu or her successors would cheerfully accept this concession as an easy price to pay for perpetual control of Earth itself.




"Yeah, we're accustomed to horseback travel," sighed John Wisebadger, "but for longer distances, I wonder how soon we'll have the use of jets again." He and Henry Spafford were passengers aboard a propeller-driven airliner, formerly belonging to Atmosfleet. Their destination was Aguila de Sol, the former Phoenix, Arizona.

Henry Spafford shrugged. "The good news is that Sunki Pavatea will be the moderator." The conference to which the Arapahoe gentleman and the Apache huntsman were going was intended to head off the chaos which might yet follow the destruction of the Aztec-Maoist People's Republic. Native Americans were supposed to be the healers now, and the Hopi diplomat- clown was throwing all his weight of wisdom into the effort. But Comanche, Pima, Navaho, Kiowa, Cheyenne and Sioux all had their own ideas of how the renewal should be achieved.

Neither Henry nor John had any thoughts to spare for whether or not Hindus could pull off colonizing Mars.
 
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CHAPTER ___ 148: ___ To Everything A Season

"Summer, Evan, Wilson, Esperanza, Brendan, Peggy, everybody, listen up! I've just completed writing a set of parody lyrics! It only occurred to me to try this after we revisited where Smoky Lake used to be."

The feminist singer Tori Amos, whom Kimberly Tisdale had intensely admired in youth, and whom Kimberly Tisdale-Havens physically resembled to this day, had written one explicitly anti- Christian song: a song which, with less than zero basis in fact, had claimed that the holy child born in Bethlehem had been a girl. The downfall of the Diversity States had made it possible for Christmas to be celebrated again; and at last, albeit not >in< Christmas season, Kim had written corrected words for that Christ-denying song. When she sang her version after a group supper, Summer was first to hug her in congratulations.

Half an hour later, Kim was provided with a second audience. Knocking at the door was John-Paul Brendan, with his parents and his four siblings. John-Paul quipped, "I can't understand why we feel jet lag, since we never left Africa." The African Union taking over much of the eastern United States, with the consent of much of the eastern United States, had made the joke possible. Not a joke, but a good thing, was the smooth cooperation between "West Liberia," the Republic of Texas, and the Mexican Alliance; it went so far as their law enforcers sharing jurisdiction in many cases.



Some talk about this was included in the satellite videophone call Kim had scheduled for the particular benefit of Kim's mother Elizabeth Zapata, now married to the respectable businessman Esteban Zapata, who had sired upon her the middle-school-age Javier Zapata, who was thus a half-brother to Kim, thereby an uncle-with-reduced- consanguinity to Kim's daughter Peggy. Elizabeth relished seeing her granddaughter, and (by way of a side-channel connection) deluging Terrance and Harmony with questions and hopes about their unborn son Bruce Chu-Tam. Kim then got her third hearing for her new song, producing compliments from her younger in-laws.

"Lady, thou art the cruelest she alive, / If thou wilt lead these graces to the grave / And leave the world no copy."

Kim replied to this quote from The Twelfth Night with kisses to her husband's neck. "Yes, I remember you reciting that to me several times before I delivered the human copy called Esperanza. But this is the first time you've repeated it since Peggy arrived. Are you asking for a third Havens girl?"

"Not unless God positively wants it," Alipang admitted. "At least not until my income gets back to consistency. I probably won't be signed on as a seagoing dentist again, and the old scarcity of dentists is history now. On the good side, now there's no law against private investment, and stock dividends we earn will go far, because we're experts in living frugally."

After some wordless but lively interaction, Kim caught her breath and said, "If Dad follows through on his book-writing ambitions-- thanks to freedom of the press coming back with guarantees-- maybe we can act in the movie adaptations. Dan and Chilena would have an inside track in the auditions too."



Before Kim awoke the next morning, Alipang's dataphone (a gift from Dominykas Bagdon after their voyage on the Queen Scavenger) demonstrated its ability to receive encrypted calls. "Yo, bounty hunter, how are things? It's me, Inspector Leroy Lincoln."

"Oh. Are we starting an exclusive lodge fraternity for non-conformist heroes?"

"New adventure first, secret handshakes later. Do you know Mariscal Amistad Upugoria?"

"Heard of her. George Preston mentioned having met her once."

."Bingo. Not many Amistad Upugorias highly placed in law enforcement. Amistad is in on a transnational investigation. Its targets include the white-collar thieves Chida Govinda formerly dealt with, but also more hands-on types like the bandits Josiah Redfern took on. Everybody of their type has been facing setbacks in recent years. Narcissists majorly resent losing; and if they can't reverse all their losses, they just might settle for token reprisals."

"Like, against me and my family."

"Very possibly. But exactly because you're someone they'd like to snuff, the crooks may have decided the only way to sneak up on you is to detail the sneaking to someone you never had contact with before. Five days ago, an attempt was made on Yang Sung-Kuo's life. The assailants-- who suicided when caught-- were identified as coming from a Rajput Racketeer cell-group which had never operated against the Chinese directly."

"Do you have crosshairs on a likely threat for us?"

"Not yet, but we're trying to reverse the game. I won't be coming east to guard you, because it's known that you know me. Instead, Marshal Upugoria, who has never met you, will command your protectors. This way, there's at least a chance that the enemy won't know that we know that you're among their targets. One other thing: less than an hour from now, an ordinary-seeming delivery driver, on a pedicab like in the Enclave days, will bring you a large parcel-- containing a bunch of body armor, knives, and a couple of Uzis. You should have no problem firing the Uzis, and bringing a bow for you would be too obvious."

Reflexively glancing right and left, Amistad lowered her voice. "I almost forgot. I'm also giving you a listening device: a high-tech ear to the ground. Leroy reminded me that Aztlano personnel used to maintain underground passages."

In the event, no threat was using the subterranean route; but Inspector Lincoln had done what he could.
 
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"Stan, long time no see! Did your engagement work out?"

"No, Hester decided it just wasn't working, too few goals in common. Better to tell me early than to break off after we sent out invitations. The split was amicable, and fellow Rangers who betted the wedding wouldn't happen are collecting their money."

Darcie Beale, the hazardous-waste expert who had taken part with flier Stan Lewandoski in the mission to capture Islamo-Fascist documents in Zurich, had since then been assisting the Dacoits wherever a research chemist could be helpful. After listening to Darcie's short unclassified account of her forensic work, the Polish-descended Texan told his African-American friend:

"I've received a message from Emilio Vasquez. He told me specifically that he needs a fellow aviator who isn't a specially close friend; something about deniability, I think. So I'm shortly catching a spaceplane to America."



The rotors on the jetcopter spun up faster than with any past helicopter Tully Rainwash had trained on. "This time, we'll try near-ground skimming," said his instructor Isaac Boyd, a friend of the late Mark Terrell. "Azimuth forty degrees from us has the least irregularity in the ground; you should be all right at seven feet up, not too fast. If you're doing well after half a mile, we'll climb a bit, then move sideways."

The session wasn't quite finished when both men saw two horsemen approaching their takeoff-landing platform. Tully, a nearly- full-blooded Arapahoe, exclaimed, "That's Chief Wisebadger!" John Wisebadger had recently ascended to the leadership of all Arapahoes in Wyoming. The younger man with him was white and unfamiliar to Tully.

When the rotor blades had completely stopped moving, instructor and student stepped out of the helo. Chief Wisebadger casually introduced his companion. "This is Hector Stott from Seattle. Before the Fairness Convulsion, he was a Coast Guard gunner's mate, running drug interdiction around Puget Sound and outward. He has a keen eye for when to hold fire and when to send his twenty millimeters downrange."

Tully's eyebrows jumped. "May I ask which way is downrange?"

"East by southeast," Isaac replied. "There may be trouble trying to happen in the neighborhood of the Havens family. If you're free and up for a ruckus, but willing to accept need-to-know requirements, you can come along. Understand that Hector IS going, and it's possible he'll need to make some people dead."

Tully looked at his chief; John told him, "It's no disgrace not to go into possible combat on ten minutes' notice. If what Hector has waiting for him is real hunting, there might be work for you next week, maybe next month."

Tully ended up staying in reserve; there would be someone to continue his helo training. Only after taking off did Isaac tell Hector to anticipate operating under the orders of Amistad Upugoria.



Grace and Grant, in similar denims, were mounted together on a stout chestnut mare, led by Kimberly Havens.

Grace asked, "Did you really use'ta board horses in Smoky Lake?"

"Sure did. Letting Alipang ride the nearby trail was part of our building a relationship. The dogs liked him too."

Grant posed the next question: "Do you think people in the country will keep riding horses, now that there's no more Transport Police telling us how to go places?"

"When Jessica Trevette and her crowd brought the hammer and sickle down on America, they sort of had us coming and going. Almost half of all domestic horses were turned into soil, at the same time as we were forbidden to own cars."

Marshal Upugoria was maintaining vigilance around the neighborhood, but trying not to make things look as if the potentially endangered people suspected something.
 
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"This reminds me of The Hiding Place," whispered Grace Rand; she knew the life story of Corrie ten-Boom.

Michael, Anne-Marie, Grace and Grant, with little Peggy Havens, were huddling in a camouflaged cellar. Though Michael was eldest of the five, he still had not gotten past the intentional programming the Fairness Party had inflicted on him. Accordingly, Anne-Marie Rand held the fourteen-shot pistol which had been entrusted to her: twenty-two caliber, but with high-velocity propellant and teflon-coated bullets. The body armor her parents and Peggy's parents were wearing now could not be penetrated by those rounds, but there was grounds for hope that the mixed bag of outlaws closing in on them would not be as well protected.

"What do you think it feels like to die?" Michael asked the air. Grant answered, "Never so bad that Heaven can't make up for it. Remember how Ransom Kramer got to really see his Dad in Heaven." In the present situation, the well-educated Grant could not have cared less about having split an infinitive.

Upstairs and outdoors, five adults were stationed in three quickly-built redoubts. The sandbags were stuffed with an up-to-date impact- absorbing foam. Also hastily installed were automated fire-extinguishers. Crouched in the central redoubt, Amistad Upugoria could transmit orders and receive sitreps as well here as anywhere else.

On the flanks, Kimberly and Summer were wielding pistols like the one issued to Summer's elder daughter. Alipang had his Uzi set for three-shot bursts. Evan held a drum-fed semi-automatic tactical shotgun, with twenty-five shells. Amistad was firing a laser rifle. Isaac Boyd was on the defenders' right, maneuvering perfectly to give clear shots to his door gunner Hector Stott. The rotary twenty-millimeter cannon disabled three obsolescent armored cars. Meanwhile, satellite imagery was transmitted to Amistad; the overhead view revealed gunmen wearing blur-projectors creeping toward the left side of the house (right side from the enemy's viewpoint). Still others, less equipped but determined and skillful, advanced with old-school stealth. Amistad killed some of these, while Hector nailed others. The mariscal barked orders to friendlies who had come over by spaceplane, then turned her attention back toward the beleaguered house.

"Havens, Rands, heads up. Believe hostiles with holo-camo are staying off center inside their cloaks. Shoot both edges of each distortion you see." Doing this, Alipang slew three of these enemies, and Kim took down two more. Simultaneously, Summer and Evan between them felled nine plainly visible footsoldiers (three of these being armored car survivors).

Kim shouted to Alipang, "I should have kept my combat boots!"

Two seconds later, her head burst open.

Amistad had been too engaged to cover the left. When her head snapped left toward Alipang's devastated cry, a shot wounded her, not critically. But enough to embolden the assailants, who pressed forward. Evan hit four of them before his ammo drum needed replacing. Starting to do this, he then spotted a nearby aggressor taking aim at Summer. Pushing her down out of the line of fire, he took the shot meant for her. But he stayed alive long enough to grab Summer's pistol and kill his own slayer.

Isaac Boyd glimpsed Evan's fall; but this was to prove the last fatality on the defending side. All of the reinforcements flown from Africa had deployed, with much better coordination than the motley force of criminals. No more than ten unwounded criminals escaped-- or temporarily escaped.




In the basement, all of the suspense-wracked children saw something astonishing.

They saw Kimberly Havens appearing among them, intact--but translucent.

"Mommy?" squeaked Peggy. When her mother answered, Peggy was filled with an ability to understand and accept. So were the others in the basement. All five children felt a greater Presence hovering with Kim.

"Listen to me, baby. Your Daddy and I have told you before how Ransom Kramer got to see his Daddy up in Heaven, where Jesus is. I have to go there now, but I'll be able to see you on Earth. I won't be allowed to talk to you, but I'll hear you any time you talk to me. And your Daddy will still be with you. Wilson, Esperanza and Brendan will be there for you too. Now listen: I don't want you to look at my body. I'm not inside it anymore, I don't need it anymore. Michael, Anne-Marie, Grace, Grant: your father has taken off his body too. He died keeping your mother alive. Don't look at his body either; but he also will hear you if you speak. Until we meet before the throne--"

And she was gone, yet not gone. Thereafter, if anyone tried telling these children, "Your departed parents live on in your hearts," they would reply: "Better than that, they live on as themselves."



Amistad Upugoria, though injured, still was able to supervise the cleanup. The vacated material bodies of Kim and Even were placed reverently in body bags, after her hand and Evan's forehead were kissed by their spouses. Anne-Marie initially left it to her siblings to embrace their mother, while she lent her own presence to help Alipang comfort Peggy. In due time, Summer took her turn wordlessly holding Alipang close. Neither of the two friends took any heed of the other one being soaked with blood.

Eventually, Summer said something coherent, if cold.

"Al, I want you to do what you do best when you have a just cause for it. KILL THEM!! Kill them deader than dead! Kill them all! Kill their friends! Kill their parents! Kill their lawyers! Kill their dogs!"
 
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CHAPTER ____ 149: ____ Not Only Memories

"Alipang, I've come on behalf of all your Native friends. Along with them, Rangers of both types are picking up trails. It's nearly airtight certain that they won't be able to find air transport for a getaway. We will trace where the coyotes have gone to ground."

Tully Rainwash, protege of Arapahoe Chief John Wisebadger, had obtained transportation to the scene of the battle. Henry Spafford was reportedly running moral interference with the Amish and Quaker communities. Whenever they told Henry that Alipang's only concern should be forgiving those who killed his wife and killed their friend Evan, Henry reminded them that Alipang didn't owe it to the gangsters to leave them free to murder more honest people. Henry sometimes added Isaiah 26:10: "If favor is shown to the wicked, he does not learn righteousness."



For as long as she could remember, Summer's dreams had shared three common attributes.

She almost always remembered what she dreamed. More distinctly, whenever people spoke to her in her dreams, they never had actual voices. Persons real or imaginary interacted with her, but they had no audible voices. Instead, whatever they said was more like Summer herself thinking the words. Finally, whether in a good dream or a bad dream, any time she fully realized that she was dreaming, she would immediately awaken.

On the second night after Evan's homegoing, an exception occurred for the second and third rules.

She dreamed she stood on a windswept prairie. Nothing strange in that much. Then she saw two men on horseback approaching her, the elder of them walking his horse two lengths ahead. The first was Summer's father. The second was none other than Evan.

"Greetings, dear girl," said Mister Heron. "I'm proud of the woman you've become. So is Evan." This actually was Mister Heron speaking, not a silent thought. "You're talking in your own voice!" Summer exclaimed. "And that means I'm dreaming, so I'm going to wake up! Please, Dad, say something more before I wake up!"

"It's all right, sweetheart, you won't wake up until you've heard everything you are meant to hear. Thank you for all your goodness to me. Although you've borne a great loss, God will make the rest of your Earthly life worth living. Obviously by means of your children, but there's more to come. Now it's Evan's turn;" and Mister Heron eased his horse out of Evan's way.

Once close to Summer, Evan dismounted and gathered her in his very-real arms. "And yes, you can kiss me once again."

She kissed him tenderly, then whispered, "You kept me alive."

"The kids need you down there with them. But as my father-in-law says, there's more. God and I are perfectly okay with letting you love a man again. It isn't any betrayal to me for you to remarry, especially when our kids know that this man was a clean, wholesome friend for you. Think back to the day when you perched in a tree to look toward the ocean. Yes, I'm talking about Alipang, who else? He saw you up there, and the two of you had your first conversation. Then remember how Alipang vetted me on your behalf, concerned about what was good for you. He gave his blessing for me to have you in my life; now I give my blessing for him to have you in his life, all the way down the line."

"And three votes carries it!" added a voice from behind Summer. It was Kimberly, also on horseback, and with her head intact. Sliding down expertly from the saddle, Kimberly embraced Summer, and continued: "I trust you to be good to him, and not to be jealous of his remembering me. I've already appeared to him as well; he knows that I approve of you to marry him, and that our children will accept you. There's no competition in Heaven, and you won't have that to cope with on Earth. So, until we meet again up here....."

Kimberly held Summer tightly and lovingly-- until she woke up.




At her first opportunity, Summer sought out Alipang, Wilson, Esperanza, Brendan and Peggy. Providentially, they were all together, with Michael, Anne-Marie, Grace and Grant. Present in addition were Isaac Boyd, Amistad Upugoria, and other friends. Forgetting his shyness, Michael burst out: "Mom, we know! God says Dad's okay where he is, and it's okay for you to marry Alipang next!"

Alipang stepped forth and wrapped his arms around Summer, who did the same. She said, "Kim and Evan aren't jealous." He said, "We can love each other without being false to them." They spent the next three minutes unashamedly kissing.

Abraham Zondei was available to officiate a hugely-attended wedding. There would be no conventional honeymoon; it was more important to Summer Havens and her new husband to let their eight children enjoy the newness also. Only the nighttime part was isolated from the kids-- all of whom except Peggy already knew about the birds and the bees and the flowers and the trees.

Sometime after their first anniversary, Summer would conceive her one child by Alipang: a girl to be named Evita Kimberly Havens, the first name of course being suggestive of the name Evan. Peggy Havens would be particularly happy to be someone else's older sister at last.

When Irina Stepanova performed the delivery of Miss Evita, nobody thought of singing "Don't Cry For Me, Argentina." But the doctor herself thought of a different reference. "This reminds me of an old family-comedy series on pre-tyranny television. If I dare say it-- sure, I dare, since mother and daughter are safe. Here now, eight wasn't enough."
 
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AUTHOR'S NOTE: The spiritual experiences described in the previous post are not made up from nothing. Your author, Joseph Richard Ravitts of Colorado, alias "Copperfox," has been bereaved many times, and has experienced Heavenly consolation in ways very similar to what Summer and Alipang have been granted in the story.

OTHER PEOPLE WERE ALSO PRODUCING THE NEXT GENERATION.

"Do you know the sex of your baby?" asked Ranjit Karkal, visiting the Govindas at their home in West Liberia, which is to say that part of the eastern United States which was being leniently administered by the actual Liberia.

"I'm just far enough along that we can give him a name," Chida replied. "His name is Yashbir. My Tim has fine genes to transmit, and I'm all for him starting young."

Josephine piped up: "Did either set of his grandparents propose the name, or did you and Tim decide on it on your own?"

"We picked it out of a naming book. It's a Sikh name. With Govindas being so clannish, Tim and I both wanted something unprecedented. Remember that Yashbir is his own second cousin; by not giving him a family-tree name, we'll help him to be his own man. We even have a few Sikh friends, whom we got to know during the rise of the Caliphates; our own extended family soon recognized them as natural allies, thus won't be upset about our son's name."

While the Karkals were still there, a phone call came from Amistad Upugoria. Tim answered. The mariscal went right to the news: "There's no easy way to tell this. The man who saved you from the mob--"

Tim jumped up. "Is he dead?"

"No, but the survivors of a different mob soon will be dead. They killed Mrs. Havens, and Evan Rand...." Amistad left out any reference to how quickly Alipang and Summer had come together; without context, it would have sounded as if the surviving twosome had not really loved their slain spouses, which would have been untrue.



"The game's gone back to normal," Leroy Lincoln told a promising rookie deputy. Leroy was referring to the way he and others who knew the Havens family had pretended ignorance, in order to prevent Alipang's enemies from knowing they were being anticipated.

Deputy Arnold Spender nodded. "If we're in the game now, I bet we'll need to hurry, if we want those murderers alive to face trial. You told me the story of the first time Doctor Havens killed men. Valid self-defense that night, but Havens proved he was no flower-child. He does arguably have a law-enforcement status, but, well....."

"We don't want his new life poisoned. I know enough about Alipang's character, and about his friendship with all of the Rands, to understand how he actually could move on with a woman who was faithful to Evan in life, and close friends with Kimberly. But a lot of shallow people might assume Alipang didn't honestly love Kim; of these, half would applaud him for discarding his Church- Nazi superstitions, while the other half denounced him as cold-hearted for not spending a year cloistered in grief. Both of those teams would imagine that any crooks Alipang killed, he would be killing as theatrics, to assuage his conscience by concealing his hidden lack of love and loyalty."

"Then we're on the scent now, eh, boss?"

"Yep, as in, yesterday."
 
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The crew of the less-ambitious Indian space station had been briefed by their government's intelligence community that the Islamist forces in and around Uganda-- generally the crowd who had confronted Brendan Hyland and Josiah Redfern-- were at an impasse concerning the next move. Some wanted to expedite the vendetta against Alipang Havens; but others invoked the obvious fact that the warrior-dentist was only one man. It might be a healthy compromise if the cutthroats could kill or harass outer-circle friends of Alipang and his new bride.

Two days after the briefing, the orbital observers decided to assume that "Ignore The Filipino Troublemaker" was the consensus among the hostiles being tracked.



At the end of a pier, on the Abkhazian coast of the Black Sea, Luarsab Demna, a native of Gruziya {known as Georgia to English speakers}, waited for the two vacationing couples whom he had asked to meet him. They had sent their condolences to Alipang Havens in America, but the foursome had their own lives to live.

Just before coming within Luarsab's earshot, George Preston said to Vartui, his Armenian wife, "I wish there were a dictionary of inter-language puns. I can't get applause by saying that Georgia is my second home because my name is George, or saying we'll take our sea cruise out of GRUZ-iya."

Once he spotted the two couples, Luarsab strode in their direction, hailing them in English. "Vartan Yenovkian! Mister Bagron told me that you were all in to join the Zutkhi's crew. If you weren't already told, the new ship is known by the Georgian word for 'sturgeon'."

Amelda Oliveira Yenovkian told their new employer, "I've eaten sturgeon, cooked it too. The caviar I can take or leave, but I like the fish itself."

"The fish in the Black Sea can do without plastics accumulating inside a mostly closed-in sea. Back before any of us were born, when the Soviet Union broke up, everybody wanted everybody else to invest in mitigating the pollution which had already accumulated before Yeltsin's time. Like all the fertilizer waste in the Volga! Queen Scavenger's open-ocean debut impressed people, and our investors are all on board."

"I guess that almost counts as a pun," Vartui whispered to her brother.

The operator of a parabolic sound-collector on a rooftop didn't care about puns, except insofar as the talk on the pier provided clues about what these infidels were doing, and whether they, especially the accursed Armenians, could be killed this time around.



Three days later, at a machine shop which was handling miscellaneous hardware for the new sea-cleaning ship, Luarsab was greeted by a sturdy Jewish-looking man. He had a portable translation device, which helped him to speak in Georgian.

"My name is Jeremiah" (which of course was Yirimyahu). "I like exterminating the same pests as George, Vartui, Amelda and Vartan exterminate. So if you don't have any fire-resistant Filipinos joining your maiden voyage, I'm available to fill in."



Six days later, seventy kilometers east of Odessa, Vartan Yenovkian put three rounds through the head of the last actively- threatening man from a hydrofoil-riding pirate crew that had tried to sink the Zutkhi. Yirimyahu Kohen had already found and disarmed the limpet mines which had been attached to the trash intake by a diver. Twenty minutes later, the Black Sea version of a coast guard took custody of the surviving aggressors-- but not before Yirimyahu did a brainwave-checked interrogation on them. The intel he gained would be shared with the still-nameless army to which Brendan Hyland belonged.

Drenched in evildoers' blood, Vartan told Luarsab, "Maybe after this, we can actually focus on a non-lethal industry."

Luarsab nodded. "Maybe the Caspian Sea next."

Adelma linked arms with her husband, ignoring the blood. "Rebuilding free enterprise, and nuclear families, is just as important."

Vartui topped everyone else, kissing George and announcing: "You and I, stud-man, are now in on the family-starting part."
 
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Sergeant Zella Greenlee of the Texas Rangers had placed a certain contemptible toady in prison around the time when the Aztec-Maoists were shattered. As an assistant to larger snakes, Sugarstar Hamilton had been part of maintaining and supplying safe houses. Today, in return for a short sentence in minimum security, he was guiding six Rangers, plus one Escrimador, to locate four sometime gunmen who had served the Formenteras. The seekers were being as inconspicuous as possible, though they didn't expect their quarry to be in any position to spot their approach.

Zella quietly asked Alipang, "Do you really plan to kill these crooks on sight? I understand that your new wife wants you to."

"Summer said it out of grief. And if they had been within my reach right after they shot my Kim, I would have killed every one of them I could reach. But I'm calmer now, so I'm prepared to give them a option to surrender and only face prison. As for that, on the night that gave me my reputation, back in Smoky Lake, I did give the last of those attackers a fair chance to give up and live. So I promise, if I get to confront this latest crew, I'll give them the same offer. _ONE_ chance."

While they marched toward the area of interest, Zella spotted a sharply blinking light: a shifting reflector, positioned so that its user could catch the sunlight at an angle visible to the hunting party. This worked as Morse code, which included an identifier:

TULLY.... RAINWASH.... ARAPAHOE.... FRIEND.... OF.... HUNTER.... ALIPANG.

"Al, you've got fellow braves wanting to get in on the hunt. Some of John Wisebadger's crowd."




Two of the criminals in the bolthole were arguing irritably about subjects like whose turn it was to inspect the chemical toilet. The other two had not forgotten that they were hunted fugitives, and were genuinely discussing survival.

"Do you think we should make our next move tonight, or wait to see if any of the others contact us?"

"Since it's every man for himself, unless we pick up signs of pursuit homing in on this burrow, we should sit tight and let some other sub- squad get grabbed up so the hunters might think they bagged everyone."

"Seriously? What if the others who get caught try to bargain for clemency by telling that Filipino tracker how many others-- like us four-- are still at large? What if Alvin Harvey or whatever decides he's less pissed at the surrendered ones, and gets more angry at us for thinking we outsmarted him?"




Alipang carried with him six of the grenade-arrows he had been provided. Tully was impressed by them, and remarked: "Those look like fine door knockers. If they have a hidden periscope to watch the vicinity, it probably watches ground level. If you hammer the roof from overhead, outside their field of sight, they might lose their nerve."

Climbing the best-positioned tree, Alipang couldn't help remembering the tree which had first brought him and Summer together, before there had been any cause to believe he would ever gain the notice of the stand-offish Kimberly Tisdale.

One blast against the turf-layered roof, one against the camouflaged entrance, and one exactly striking a concealed air vent, persuaded the fugitives to emerge with hands raised, ready for Tully Rainwash to slap on the cuffs. Not one shot aimed at a living target was fired.

Alipang looked straight skyward. "There you have it, Kim: I can control my anger."
 
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OUR NEXT MAJOR SECTION:

A Widening
World, Or
So They
Hope

Chapter 150: ATTITUDES MADE TO ORDER

Six years after the mopping up of those involved in the deaths of Kim and Evan, Michael Rand had picked up the skills of home schooling, and had an attentive pupil in his little half-sister, Evita Kimberly Rand-Havens.

"These letters are called 'vowels.' When you use them, you _don't_ do anything with your tongue. Try saying, 'Ooh, ee, aah'."

"Ooh, ee, aah. Yeah, my tongue's just lying there."

"Very good. Now, you use every part of your mouth to talk, and you already can do your talking without knowing the letters. But to use letters making words to read, you have to remember which sound every letter says when you read them. Like, when you say the letter P, it's your lips going puh-puh-puh. When you say the letter T, the tip of your tongue goes up to the roof. Those letters don't need your throat-sounds; but for each of those tongue-or -lip movements, there are more letters which do need your vocal chords to make a sound. The two voice-using sounds for your lips are buh-buh-buh and muh-muh-muh. The sounds at the roof of your mouth are da-da-da, na-na-na, and la-la-la.

"I've tutored kids with actual speech impediments, and for them I invented memory phrases they could repeat. For example: 'Lois Lane laughed loudly when Lex Luthor licked lemon lollipops'."

Evita visibly ran this through her head, then correctly repeated: "Lois Lane laughed loudly when Lex Luthor licked lemon lollipops."




Around this time, in the shadow of a mosque in the Babylonian Caliphate, two Gentile friends of the Jewish community met with a mixed but cordial group. Mister Kovinda {no relation to the GO-vindas} Fishburne, a Dravidian on his mother's side, hailed from the Great Lakes Muslim Cantonment, where he had spent months brainstorming with Progressive Muslim college teachers. Mister Viran Talat had grown up in New York City, and had joined the notorious "God's Youth for Peace," but he had become disillusioned when he realized their penchant for intimidation and assaults. He was even slightly acquainted with Ranjit Karkal.

Two notable men waited to welcome the travelers: Jackson Alyard, no stranger to high technology, and the Mossad veteran Yirimyahu Kohen, even less a stranger to high technology. Gathered beside and behind Yirimyahu and Jackson were a dozen Khazarian Jewish women and two dozen Khazarian men. Though clad in long-sleeved, full-length gowns, the women were not required to cover their heads, nor were they compelled to stand behind the men.

"Where did you go with the question we urged you to discuss?" asked Viran.

One of the women replied, "Not one of us wanted to give up the prospect of colonizing other planets, but there was no consensus about which planets to settle." Another woman added, "One point was agreed. None of us wanted to migrate closer to the Sun. Habitats orbiting Venus, or underground settlements on Mercury, would enjoy unlimited available solar energy; but those two planets would be all we had. The Moon, for Greater China, offers a hundred times more living space than any feasible colonies on Venus and Mercury combined."

Then Jackson took the baton. "Mars, the asteroids, moons of the gas giants, and moons of the ice giants. Dwarf planets probably not at all necessary, even to our great-great-children. And even without the unlikely prospect of an overpopulation problem in any of the settlements, there would be enough reserve resources that the affected generation would have time to plan how to adjust for conditions."

"There's a further what-if," said Yirimyahu. "On a colonized Mars, there could be twenty or thirty domed cities, whose inhabitants would enjoy regular surface travel between cities, there would be a natural 'global village,' amicable and unforced. But on asteroids or on inhabitable moons, the citizens would know that they couldn't simply hop a train from Callisto to Ganymede. So, without strife, there would be diversity, and not the way Pinkshirts defined it."




Casual cordiality pervaded a group lunch, where many participants deliberately spoke with persons they didn't already know. When the conference reconvened, Kovinda Fishburne got the ball rolling.

"Back in the Cantonment, the scholars dwelt on something interesting, something rarely understood either by Islamist fanatics, or by those who have been forced to fight back against jihad. No excuse exists, or ever could exist, for the grossly selfish conduct of Muhammad; but numerous Muslims over history modified the spirit of their culture. In medieval Spain, a local king named Mutamin embraced the cooperation of Rodrigo de Vivar, now remembered as El Cid, against an African Islamic faction which was far worse than the Spanish Muslims. In recent history, Iran came under the rule of a Shah named Reza Pahlavi; he still believed in his people's view of the nature of God, but saw no reason why every point of Sharia law needed to be enforced. Iranian women in his time weren't compelled to suffocate themselves inside black weather balloons.

"In our world, there still are Islamists who relish using the Dar al-Harb doctrine as an excuse to harm defenseless victims. But there are also civilized people raised in Islam. Until the Second Coming of Jesus, we'll have to deal with present conditions. Resist the worst, reward the best." Now he glanced at Viran Talat, who began:

"My own experience meeting Muslims has particularly entailed seeing them in a setting of secular higher education. Some of them cynically bit the hands that taught them, while others took the tolerant approach which Kovinda has described. Both of these types routinely spoke about the scientific and cultural input Muslims have contributed to the world; but the radicals tried to convince other students that ]i]every[/i] field of knowledge and progress was fully and entirely the work of superhuman Muslims. For instance, Islamic scholars did advance the skill set of mathematics; but they also stole credit for the invention of the zero, which Hindus had already devised before them.

"Now, Mister Kohen has an idea for how the use of this ambiguity could produce a constructive result. Yirimyahu?"

The Mossad veteran took the floor. He carried no notes; that would have seemed stuffy in this not-very-official setting; but his idea was clearly well formed.

"Throughout human history, there's been only one world for people to share or fight over. In such a world, the devout jihadists wanting to kill or enslave all the rest of us can't exactly be ignored. But since the Chinese began really developing the Moon, plurality of environments is a reality, as the others have said. This plurality should offer a way out for hateful jihadists, whose confidence has been shaken by their setbacks in Africa and on the Pacific Ocean. Given some habitable world where they can have their Sharia and eat it too, they're likely to divert their brains and resources to begin their migration. By contrast, progressive Muslims will be fully prepared to demonstrate their own moderation."

One of the Khazarian men asked, "Are you leading up to saying that the history of Muslim scholarship will help the progressives to gain goodwill?"

Yirimyahu nodded. "Got it in one. I can imagine how the tolerant ones can demonstrate a good attitude. Consider it a for-instance. Imagine a muezzin uttering a revised call to prayer like this: 'Let us praise Allah, Who has given us intellect and reason! Let us praise Allah, Who has taught us functions and equations! Let us praise Allah, Who has enabled us to discover things and build things!'

"The rest of mankind would welcome this approach with a sigh of relief. Oneness Temples in America might even get on board, once they know that Sharia courts have been abolished."

Everyone present saw the merit in Yirimyahu's conjecture.
 
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A few days later, Yirimyahu Kohen contacted two young women who had not been at the conference in the Babylonian Caliphate. One was known to the Israeli agent: Yael Meyerling who had lived on the Moon. The other was new to Yirimyahu: a young Chinese official named Pang Biao-Tu. Upon being introduced to the new-model Communist Party member, Yael said, "I've heard of you, and all of it favorable. You've become the nucleus of the moderate faction, trying to prevent a resurgence of censorship and criminal trials with no defense attorneys. I hear that Yang Sung-Kuo is the leader of your supporters in the law-enforcement structure. By all accounts, he's reaching out to the military-police community."

"Sung-Kuo looks ahead. He sees the ambitious junior bureaucrats hoping to treat Mars the way their grandfathers treated Tibet."

Yirimyahu shrugged. "He isn't wrong. But I'm concerned with an entirely different issue: putting a leash on the diehards in our Islamic population, but not so harshly as to make moderate Muslims resent us and sympathize with the hard cases. Now gravity technology is offering a solution."

"How so?" asked Yael. "By enclosing some new Enclave with a new-style barrier using generated counter-gravity in place of a fence?"

"No. Rather, by using gravity technology to set up a place where hard-line Muslims will want to stay."

"What, would your Enclave be established in Mecca, where the fanatics could be near their sacred stone?"

Yirimyahu grinned like a good-humored rabbi holding a light-hearted Shabbat school session. "Instead, we would transport the Kaaba to a chosen location, somewhere beyond Luna's orbit. There would be a large habitat of some kind, allowing them to relive the medieval glory days. High-precision gravity clamping would keep the interval between them both safe and crossable. Meanwhile, the progressive Islamic majority on Earth and Luna would be put at ease by knowing the rest of us were put at ease. Best of all would be if the Muslim habitat and the free-floating Kaaba were orbiting together: same advantage as I said, but add in the maximum quarantine, away from all planets on the nightward side of Earth."




"When you're the only one paddling, you have to change the sides where you put your paddle in frequently. Keeps you on course. The hand that's lower on the paddle shaft is always the one exerting more force on the stroke: the more reason to alternate the exertion on your arms."

Brendan Havens, younger of the two sons Kimberly had borne to Alipang, was dating a girl named Salva Alhambra. Early in the relationship he had conceived the idea of teaching Salva to use a canoe, precisely because his father had once gone canoeing with his mother in their early courtship. Brendan didn't resent his stepmother having become his stepmother; he and his siblings all understood that Summer had not violated their father's marriage to their mother. But he did want to preserve memories of Mom.

As if reading his mind, Salva changed the subject. "You know how the Oneness folks persecuted your stepmother. And you remember how her friend Juanita Porres went through the same treatment. Just last night, Juanita came to tell my Mom something; hinted that the diversity holdouts are trying to revive the abuse program with a low profile. Juanita will want to huddle with Mrs. Havens very soon."




"I'm no expert at this, although Henry has coached me a bit. So you and I can develop the skill together."

Alipang's stepson Michael was very gradually sneaking up on manhood. Throwing axes was a frightfully warlike pastime by his standards, without requiring him to fight anyone, even play-fight. And his stepfather also being a beginner here eliminated any embarrassment about his level of success.

Falling short. More follow-through, but hit the wrong tree. Miss, but closer to the correct tree. Learn how to use the term "downrange." Try throwing left-handed. Go back to dominant hand. Hit the correct tree, but sideways. Hit the tree with axe aligned, only with the end of the handle. Hit with the edge, just not hard enough to stick in place. Strike with the top of the axehead. Flex hands to relieve stiffness.

Alipang clapped his hands against Michael's shoulders. "There used to be axe-throwing clubs. If Henry signs on, maybe we can start a new one."




The Texas Rangers, with the acceptance of "West Liberian" and other provincial authorities, had been keeping track of developments beyond their Greater Mexican jurisdiction. They were always interested in the doings of Chinese persons, both friendly and otherwise. Ranger Uriel Morales, a friend of Emilio Vasquez, was shown reports about a certain Pang Biao-Tu coming to America. The latest memorandum about Miss Pang assessed that she had been exposed to emphatic anti-American and anti-Christian rhetoric, but that she wasn't swallowing it blindly. Ranger Brittany Pierce authorized Uriel to catch a flight northeast to look into Miss Pang's activities.

Alipang's Ranger connections made it simple including him in some Texan business. Summer, Michael and Juanita were with him; Eric and Cecilia were looking after other family members, who could look forward to free dental examinations. In a bit of nostalgic whimsy, Eric had begun referring to his practice as "Dynamic Dentist." Alipang, Michael, Summer and Juanita then made inquiries about the mental health center which Pang Biao-Tu seemed to be touring at great length. Uriel Morales met them outside and told them as much.

When admitted through the outer gate, Alipang's party could hear young voices excitedly shouting: "If the aggressors intrude, the battle shall rage!" "Inspect ammunition!" "Enemy sighted!" "Fire the guns!" "Reload and fire at will!" "Use every weapon!" "Up from the hills with nitroglycerine, to blow up the enemy ordnance!" "Keep close-quarters weapons handy!" "Fire the guns!" "Relocate and reacquire targets!" "The guns, the guns!" "On into the battle, in the battle of the battle!" "Dig in and sight for fifty meters!" "Fire the guns!" "Shoulder to shoulder, don't retreat!" "The guns, the guns!" "Fire in every direction!"

But no gunshots of any kind were audible. The men and women playing war here were in the hands of covert meddlers, whose long game sought to mislead people in the future: future officials and scholars who would be led to believe that anyone believing in personal self-defense was a lunatic.

AUTHOR'S NOTE: THIS DEPICTION OF MENTAL PROGRAMMING IS DIRECTLY CONNECTED WITH MY MISSING SHORT STORY, "THE FIRST POPE OF MARS," WHICH I DESIGNED AS A LEAD-IN FOR THE ELIOT GRANHOLM SAGA.

After the excited voices dropped sharply in volume, Pang Biao-Tu strolled out to meet the new arrivals. She looked younger than Alipang and Summer would have guessed in view of her prestige, and far more attractive than they had expected she would. While Juanita greeted the energetic bureaucrat, Summer whispered to Alipang, "Beautiful or not, her superiors would never give her so much freedom of action if she didn't have the skills and the work ethic to carry her weight; but having the talent, her looks doubtless gave her an added boost on the career ladder."

Summer silently added to herself: Alipang consciously chose a girl older than himself as his first love; and his marrying me rules out any late-in-life hankering for women substantially younger than himself. It isn't as if God begrudged him a posterity! So let this Pang woman be an acquaintance to my husband; that random shared syllable is not any sign of my Al taking any inappropriate interest.
 
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Coming on horseback in search of Alipang (having brought their horses along on a train ride for much of the distance), Texas Ranger Zella Greenlee and Arapahoe brave Tully Rainwash first encountered Brendan Havens and his girlfriend Salva Alhambra. Tully said to Alipang's younger son: "We're here in response to hints that some grudge-holding interstate criminals want to try their luck against the undefeated warrior dentist."

Mere hours later, Alipang got a call from Colonel Constance Auclair in Canada.

"Doctor Havens? We were all devastated to learn about Evan's death. He did immeasurable good for the traumatized orphans. A lot of us want to come down and pay our respects wherever Evan's remains are buried. What's more, if any of the killers are still at large, there just might happen to be several Mounties who somehow could obtain leave of absence to come south also. Then, since you personally enjoy a degree of law-enforcement status, you wouldn't have much difficulty getting clearance to deputize those Canadian volunteers on your own recognizance."

Viran Talat the Progressive Muslim, who had repented of joining "God's Youth for Peace," showed up as well, bringing with him some items of surveillance technology. Plus other men who had repudiated radical Islam.




Someone who hadn't repented of joining that fraudulent group in the U.S.A.'s northeast was Abdimahat bin-Yusuf, a devout muezzin who had never missed a chance to harass kuffurs with loudspeaker calls to prayer. After Islamists worldwide overplayed their hand and lost their immunity to justice, Abdimahat had cleared out of America. He had served as an inconspicuous religious advisor to the enemies of Brendan Hyland, to the enemies of Josiah Redfern, and to the enemies of Dominykas Bagdon. But now the Eastern Hemisphere was growing less comfortable for extremists, while the Western Hemisphere looked like letting its guard down. So now seemed like an opportune time to head back to the awkwardly-rebuilding United States ("Western Liberia?" Really??) and see about sneaking up on Alipang Havens, who was a friend to Brendan AND to Josiah AND to Dominykas.

Meanwhile, Texas Rangers Uriel Morales and Brittany Pierce joined up with Zella Greenlee, with Tully Rainwash, and with Constance Auclair and her Mounted Police volunteers.




Toby Ferguson, a former Pinkshirt, had been reduced to manual labor at one of the metal-recycling centers-- not the one where the happily-married Terrance and Harmony worked; but he had not lost his grasp of technology. Mother Universe (on his view, anyway) allowed him to turn up assorted electronic parts which he could rig into pretty decent communication equipment. Searching the airwaves on his free time, he had fortuitously happened upon a frequency employed by Abdimahat bin-Yusuf. Someone was on the channel.

This is a holdout of the American Fairness Party, querying for anyone who has belonged to God's Youth for Peace. You know how the Pinkshirts facilitated your brave efforts to stem the avalanche of hate-filled Christians. The church-Nazis would have erased all freedom and love everywhere, if not for your integrity and valor. Is Abdimahat bin-Yusuf available?

THIS IS SULEIMAN BIN-ABU, AN AIDE TO ABDIMAHAT. HE IS CURRENTLY SLEEPING. KEEP THIS CHANNEL OPEN. I WILL AWAKEN HIM IN AN HOUR AND A HALF, BUT ONE OF HIS OTHER AIDES MAY WANT TO ASK YOU QUESTIONS MEANWHILE.




"Colonel Auclair? I'm Viran Talat, an acquaintance of Zella Greenlee. I've tracked some unusual comms activity in ionosphere bounce. The signal was changing sidebands at random intervals, but metadata suggests it might be originating from the fanatics who've tried to destroy the Nigerian Vatican."

"Stay on the frequency," said Constance. "I'll get an intel analyst on it."
 
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