SuBBrilliant Blog

Ford and Lawrence still weren’t sure they trusted the girl, but she had got them out of Cana, and at the cost of Narang’s arm.
“Sarah? Lawrence asked.
“It’s SEE-ra, what?” Sira replied.
“What do we do when we get to Armstrong?”
“What?” She turned away from the controls of her Moon Hopper which made Lawrence very nervous. He turned to Ford, who didn’t look so good himself, but for a different reason.
“Watch what you’re doing,” Lawrence barked.
“Well stop distracting me, uh,” Sira returned to the controls.
It had all happened so fast, Lawrence still wasn’t certain he believed it. After they returned in the rescue train, Lawrence and Ford had been taken back to the shed. This had revealed to Lawrence’s way of thinking that the Fundys didn’t have a vast number of bases to work from, since they kept going back to the same one. Ford had been taken for interrogation by Narang and come back in the half-conscious state he was now.  They had both been brought back out into the middle of the shed while Narang gave a hectoring speech, attempting to scare the living daylights out of Lawrence and doing a good job of it.
Suddenly a Moon Hopper, one of the self-sealed EVA units used to travel on the Moon’s surface came roaring through the wall knocking down half the shed as it went. It was a big black model sometimes used in Lunar Truck Shows where the audience stood in a comfortable atmospheric dome and watched huge vehicles, mostly Moon Hoppers and other EVAs do stunts outside in normal lunar gravity.
As it burst in, a chunk of the metal sheeting used in the shed’s wall came slicing through the air and neatly took off Narang’s arm. He screamed, bringing Carlos to his side. Sira had jumped out of the cab and grabbed Lawrence and Ford by the arm.
“I’m a friend.  I’m taking you to Armstrong, come on!”
“Who are you?” Lawrence had quite rightly asked.
“My name’s Sira. Come on we have no time.”
Lawrence saw Narang’s men catching on to what was happening and decided it couldn’t hurt to go with her, so he did.  They had made it through the airlock out onto the surface without any trouble and were now bounding along the Moon’s surface on their way to Armstrong.
It looked like they’d found a smoother patch so Lawrence tried again.
“What are we supposed to do in Armstron, Sira?”
“I don’t know. I thought you would know.  Call the President of the Moon or something right?”
Lawrence gaped. “What do you mean you don’t know.  Why are you taking us to Armstrong then?  All the President’s men are in Tranquility!”
“Well I can’t right go there without being followed, can I?”
“Why are you going anywhere at all?  Who are you?”
Sira sighed and brought the huge EVA to a ahalt in the middle of nowhere on the Moon’s surface.  It was eerily quiet without the Moon Hopper’s engines straining away.
“Look. I’ll explain the whole bloody back story to you, if you like, when we get there.  But right now, I’m trying to drive. If you must know something now, ask him,” she pointed to Ford. “He’s the one who ordered me to do it.  Well not him, but another him. You get the picture?”
“Ohh,” was all Lawrence could manage.
“Right.  Now please let me drive.” She strated the motors up and resumed bounding the EVA at somewhat reckless speeds across the terrain.
Lawrence decided to check on Ford.  He seemed to be coming around a bit.
“You all right?”
Ford shook his head no. “But I will be. I just need some time. Ever been beaten with a bag of oranges?”
“Is that what it feels like?” Lawrence asked.
“No, it doesn;t feel like that, that’s what they did.  They beat me with a bag of oranges.  Doesn’t leave a mark.”
“I see.  Look, do you recognise this girl?”
“What’d she say her name was?”
“SEE-ra,” Lawrence intentionally emphasised the correct pronunciation.
“Sira huh. No.  Can’t say I do.”
“She implied one of your clones sent her.”
Ford looked up sharply. “She did, did she? Well, that’s damned odd. I wonder how one of them even got up here. Travel papers would be difficult. And as far as I know, none of them have personal lives that I was aware of.  But–” and he waved his hand and closed his eyes.  The speculation was draining him.
Lawrence went back to watching the lunar surface go by. It reminded him of being a kid, riding out to the outlying colonies with his Dad. They had gone to visit the work being done at the failed site of a new colony called Ambrosius.  It was one of the failings of the UMC that they had not been able to start any new colonies of their own yet, only bring together the existing colonies. However, Moon population was stable, so the pressure wasn’;t great for one. His Dad had big dreams of making the colony a success. He remembered listening to descriptions of what the Ambrosius colony would look like, what kind of buildings it would have.  It always sounded wonderful.  But the dream had died with his Dad. Now Ambrosius was the site of a small mining operation. The huge colonial dome wasn’t even in proper working order and few buildings had been built. Instead miners lived in self-enclosed small encampment off to the side, and a tourist company brought folks out in a Moon Hopper to take tours of the “Ghost town on the Moon.”
“Almost here,” Sira broke the silence. Lawrence realized he had nodded off to sleep. He could see the glow of Armstrong on the horizon.
“Great.  Now what?”
“Well, since you don’t know, and you won’t shut up about it, I guess I’ll take you to Ford’s place. The other Ford.”
“Won’t that cause a stir?
She looked over at the original Ford briefly.
“No, not really.  They don’t look all that much alike at this point.  You’ll see.”
They made the airlock at Armstrong without any trouble again and wound their way to the EVA storage lot. It wasn’t far to the other Ford’s place in Armstrong. Lawrence marveled at the difference between Cana and Armstrong.  People in suits walked with purpose here in the financial capital of the Moon.  The buildings looked older than Cana but somehow more distinguished and brighter.  Plus there were restaurants not trying to hide the fact that they were restaurants.
Sira led them to a bright white block of flats off a main artery of traffic where important whizzed by on personal transports. That was another difference. Personal transports were outlawed in Cana. Every other Moon Colony was full of them. They walked up one short flight of stairs to an incongruous round orange door. Sira typed in a code and the door rolled open.
Inside was a sparse almost all white living space. What clutter there was came from piles of reading material left strewn about the white furnishings.
“Johnny?  I’m home.  I got them.”
Lawrecne heard a rustling in a back room and around the corner came a John Ford clone. He looked to be all of 13 years old.
“Hello Father,” he said.

The dark tunnel was full of dust and soot.  Malinao could barely see Chong through the gloom.  Even the floaters barely cast any light.  The moon dust was so fine, even underground, it clogged filters dn blocked light.
“Where are we now,” she shouted to Chong.
“About to the center of the colony. I think 5th street and Prophets Avenue,” he shouted back.
Hashimoto manned the device monitoring Narang’s quantum dot.
“Another 100 meters, heading 70 degrees north from current directional,” shouted down Hashimoto.
Malinao plugged her ears as the driller fired up again. It was extremely loud, but at least not as horrifice as the detrailers ahd been.  She was impressed by Chong’s skill withe driller.  Most politicians she knew claimed to be men of labour to get votes but really couldn’t do much but talk. Chong was proving his stories about mining weren’t just stories.
The question of what to do once they got below Narang was still an open one.  Chong was for just drilling through the surface but Hashimoto warned him what might happen if Cana found the President of the UMC drilling up through the middle of their colony.  The current plan was to drill close to the durface, then use a minidrill head to open up a small porthole.  That was Malinao’s job. She would man the minidrill and check the surface.  Nobody in Cana was liable to recognise her.
“OK, we’re here,” Chong yeleld after another twenty minutes of drilling.
“Check.  He’s right above us.  You ready Speaker?”
Malinao nodded and set off to climb into the minidrill.
She maneuvered it out from the side of the main drill and followed the cavern up close to the drill point.
“Within range,” she broadcast to the drill.
Chong moved the main drill back enough to give her room to slip in. She bore it straight up through the rock until proximity sensors warned her she was near the surface. She gave the controls a tight turn opening a neat circular hole in the ground above her and turning the minidrill on it’s side perfectly aligned to allow her to crawl out of the cockpit and up through the opening.
Chong whistled through her speakers. “Nice bit of driving.  Where’d you learn to do that?”
“Charm school,” she answered back. The fact was she had never driven a minidrill before  but she had driven rock busters once in california, and found the very similar. Her Uncle, Tito Jun, had a strip quarry and she spent a summer busting rocks for school money.
Malinao came out in a side street which was a relief.  They were trying to pick somewhere unobtrusive, but you nbever know if your math is good until you see it in real life. Malinao climbed on up through the ground and pavement.
“Close the grill,” she broadcast back.”
The driller had a large grill behind it that could be closed to effectively shut ooff the tunnel it had made on its way in. This prevented the air from the colony leaking out through the tunnel they made.  Not only would this give them away but it might kill a few people too. Malinao felt the slight breeze going past her into the hole suddenly die.
Chong’s voice whispered in her ear. “Grill’s closed. Narang’s Quantum Dot is registering 4 meters behind you and two meters to the left. Be careful, just reconnaisance.”
Malinao signaled her assent, and walked back down the alley towards the location of the dot. She was getting it on her reader now as well. There was door in the alleyway that seemed to lead right to the dot. She listened at the door but heard nothing. So she carefully began to open it. She slipped inside and saw only darkness.  There was a large empty room.  She heard nobody around her. She risked whispering to Chong.
“I’m reading a meter away but I’m in a dark room and there’s nobody here.”
“Shhhhh.” admonished Chong. “They might be there but hiding from you.”
“I’m going to try some light.”
No Malinao, it’s too risky.”
But Malinao had already triggered the light.
She looked around into emptiness. Not a soul or even much of anything was in the room.
“There’s nothing here,” she said back to Chong.
“What do you see?”
“Nothing”
“Well there has to be something, we’re getting Narang’s dot transmission.”
She caught her breath as she looked down.
“I think I foud the source of the transmission.”
“What is it?  Is Narang there. Get out Malinao!”
“No it’s not Narang.  Well not all of him anyway.
She looked down at a severed arm she only could assume was Minister Narang’s.

“How could you?” spat out Ford.
“Very easy brother.  I’m the leader of Britain.  As Mr. Chong here has discovered, when you’re the leader of a great power, you can do many things.”
“But you warred against the Fundys!”
“Oh yes, I warred against Touareg and all his religious nonsense. But this cloning thing caught my eye.  It really did. And the Fundys who had stayed loyal to Patel were much less extreme than Toureg’s men.  Much mor ethe pragmatists. Well can’t you see? Cana was willing to cooperate with a less extreme Fundy group.  I was very interetsed in scientific technology that the rest of the world was too frightened of to pursue. My only block was the UMC army.  AS long asthey were involved things were difficult. I can influence all the other armies rather easily, I must say, but not yours Chong, not yours. I tried diplomacy but you were too stubborn for that. So then I tried manipulating my brother. We’d had him under observation and cloned him already. But as I see, that backfired a bit too. Now what to do Chong?  What to do, what to do? You’re here and you know my secret.  I need you to withdraw the UMC troops from Earth and your Vice President has proved to be far more competent than either of us expected. It doesn’ look good for you Chong.  I can’t let you go–”
Suddenly the train stopped and the lights went out.
“Power outage,” muttered Ford.
Nothing but the dim white light of the sun unfiltered by an atmoisphere illuminated the cabin.
“Don’t move,” Narang commanded sounding a bit shrill. “We’re in Cana territory and you wouldn’t get far before the power came back on and we took you back.”
A distant rumbling filled the tube, as if another train were approaching from the Tranquility side.
“There shouldn’t be any trains coming if the power’s out,” stated Chong.
“Shut up,” barked Narang. “Carlos, take out the driver.  You can drive this, no?”
Carlos nodded and moved towards the front.
“See this was an honest to goodness rescue train.  The only way I could get out here to you poor poor people.  But now we have complications. Everyone into the fromt car.”
The rescue train was really two cars but with the divider doors between them removed and widened to give extra space. Narang waved them all into the front part of the train. He ordered Benito to uncouple the back half of the car, then moved into that half himself.  All the time the rumbling had increased and soft glow began to come from the direction of Tranquility. Finally they heard a self-propelled train engine shut off and troops begin walking towards the rescue car.
“Rescue car are you in need of assistance?” shouted someone through a megaphone.
“Over here!” yelled Narang and opened one of the side doors in the back train car then scooted forward.
Hashimoto came striding up into the rescue car flanked by UMC guards. Narang had his siguise back on and stood at the edge of the first car, right behind where he had uncoupled it.
“Now Carlos!” he shouted.
Decoupling bolts fired and the rescue train began to move away. With a bit of luck for Narang, suddenly the power returned and the train began to pick up speed. Chong realized his plan had been to use the xplosive decoupling to buil momentum and then fire other bolts to keep them moving until the power returned.  This plan would have eventually tore the train into bits, but kept them moving.  As it was Cana restored power to their end of the tracks and Narang was going to speed away.
So Chong jumped. He grabbed Malinao and leaped off the platform onto the tracks rolling as he went, taking care not to let Malinao hit the ground as much as possible. He heard shots but couldn’t tell if he’d been hit by one of them, or just the ground. They rolled to a stop against the side of the tube, Chong facing Malinao closer than he’d ever been.
She looked stunned. “I love you.”
Chong froze but wouldn’t have had time to respond anyway, as Hashimoto and the guards approached right then.
“Good to see you Mr. President”
“Thanks Rod.  Rod, I’d like you to meet Speaker Malinao from the USA. Speaker, this is Vice President Hashimoto.”
The exchanged pleasantries and walked back to the self-propelled vehicle that had brough Hashimoto and his troops.
“We got the frequency of your Quantum Dot from Ford.  When he didn’t return we started tracing it.  When it came halfway down the tube and hen turned back, we had a pretty good idea what had happened.”
“So now we need to get back into Cana and get him.”
“Not as easy as it sounds,” Hashimoto replied wiping his brow. “Cana’s been distancing themselves again. They’re saying the war is over and it’s time for us to let them be.  But I think there’s Fundy influence.”
“You’re right,” Chong agreed. “Not exactly Fundy though.  Minister Narang is leading a scientific cloning group of ex-Fundys.  They got kicked out of the Fundys by Touraeg before the ned of the war, and Narang’s taken up their cause.  They’re not as ideologically extreme as the originals except when it comes to cloning.  That is they’re holy grail.”
“narang!  I’m suprised at that.”
“So what do we do?” malinao interjected. “Can’t we inform the Canaan governemnt what happened?  Surely they’d change their minds given the facts.”
“We can try said Hashimoto.  But they pretended not to belive me when I said Chong and you were captured in there.  Just belw it off.  I think they must be farther oin Narang’a pocket than we’d like to beleive.”
“I’ve got it,” Chong said snapping his fingers.
“You do?” Malinao looked skeptical but impressed.
“Rod, can you get me three EVA units and a buggy from Tranquility?”
‘Yes of course, but what are you going to do with them? You can’t drive from Tranquility to Cana in one of those.  It would take days.”
“I don’t intend to drive all the way.  I’ll need a ship to land me outside Cana. Somehwre away from their outlying encampments.”
“I don’t understand,” Malinao shook her head. “What’s he talking about?”
Hashimoto shook his head too.  “I think I know.  Next you’re going to need a nosedriver and a couple detrailers.”
“You got it.”
“A couple what?  What’s going on?” Malinao was confused.  She knew a detrailer was what had blown up in Versailles.  So what was Chong going to blow up. “Are you going to blow something u?”
Chong looked confused then laughed. “No no.  A Detrailer is really meant fro blowing a pathway in a mine. I’m going to use a couple to start a pathway.”
“A pathway where?” she asked.
“Under Cana, right Chong?” Hashimoto answered.
“Exactly.  Right under Narang’s feet.  We’ll track him with the dot.”
“You’re not worried about an international incident?” Malinao smirked.
“Not exactly.  If they want to explain what three or four known Fundys and the British Minister are doing holding my aide and John Ford in captivity in their colony, well, let them.” Chong grinned, something he rarely did.
“well OK, then,” said Malinao flatly. “What can I do to help?”
“Can you dig?” asked Chong.

Chong had been taken back to the shed, but this time he was locked in his room and given no friendly treatment. Carlos looked at him with hate now and Benito with something tinged of disappointment and disgust. His meeting with Narang had been cut short, meaning Narang still had no idea bout Ford and their plan. However, who knew where Ford was and who was dealing with him. Once Lawrence’s dispapearance was confirmed, Vice President Hashimoto could take over on an interim basis.  Hashimoto had not been informaed of hardly any of their plan, to mitigate the security risk. That meant Ford might be executed before any of this could become known.
Chong had been in his room countless hours now without food or any kind of attendance.  There was a toilet off to one side of the room but the window was securely barred. Finally he heard some noise near his room. A muffled shriek and some cursing in Spanish reached his ears. Then the door was suddenly flung open.
“We will take care of you as soon as the leader returns,” snapped Carlos as he flung Lawrence and Malinao into the room and shut the door.
“Chong!”
“Mr. President!”
The sight of him alive wiped all their concerns away for a moment.
Chong grinned. “Just as I planned. We all get captured in Cana.”
Lawrence gasped as if he finally understood but Malinao didn’t buy it.
“So your elevator scheme didn;t pan out eh?”
“Uh, yeah about that.  It was a diversion.  It worked as far as it went–”
Malinao was not impressed. “Where’s Ford?”
“Probably in a prison cell in Serenity.”
“What happened?”
Chong told the story of their capture.
“Stroganoff,” said Lawrence when he was done. “Ford got captured all over a bowl of stroganoff.”
“Is that what it’s called? Not bad. Anyway, I was doing well here, until I met with the head of the Fundys. I managed to–” here Chong stopped.  He wasn’t sure if they were monitored. The place looked pretty low tech, but the monitoring devices could be easily hidden. He decided not to reveal the quantum dot, just in case.
“–get in the same room with him and then he recognised me.  It’s Minister Narang.”
This gobsmacked even Malinao.
“How in–?” was all Malinao could manage to get out.
“I haven’t a clue yet. All I know is he was as surprised to see me as I was to see him. Ford’s cover might have been blown if they’d found him anyway, considering Narang’s his brother.”
“So what do you two know form your adventures?”
They told him of their capture in Baghdad and he was quite impressed with their aeronautical adventure.
Malinao finished the story.  “They landed us in Cana and took us in a van here. And that’s the story.”
“What happened with all the scuffling outside?”
“Oh nothing.  Just them being rough.”
Lawrence guffawed. “The Speaker punched Carlos in the jaw after he made a remark about her gender. He’ll have a bruise tomorrow, I guarantee.”
Chong smiled.  He started to get that feeling of speechlessness again.
Malinao brushed it off and started prowling the room looking for a way to escape. The door was locked tight and Carlos and his men were just outside. The bathroom window showed some promise if they’d had a sharp knife and abojut three weeks to work on it. Ther were no ther windows and the joints at the ceiling were heat sealed. Ther wasn’t much as far as tools available.  They could break apart the nightstand for hinges and screws, but that would be noticed and just get the nightstand removed. Malinao set to attempt to remove one screw unobtrusively from the rear of the nightstand.  The bed and the toilet were the only pother things in the space.
After several more hours, Malinao had her screw but had no idea what to do with it.  It wan’t even a centimeter long.
“That’s it?!” she complained after she got it out. “All that threading for this?  It hardly even held the stand together! Man.  All that hard work and all I did was work up a stink.”
Chong took it form her and investigated. “I don’t think that smell is you. Seems liek they’re cooking up something nasty out there. Suddenly the door blew off its hinges and came hurling through the room almost knocking Lawrence over.
Ford stood incongruously in the doorway holding a handkerchief over his mouth.  Carlos and a few others could be seen passed out.
“Hurry, follow me before the gas gets us.”
Ford led them out the front door.  They ntoiced others passed out along the way including someone Chong was almost sure was Narang.
When they got outside, Ford stopped to catch his breath.  He’d been holding it most of the way in and out of the shed.
“I slipped a cannister of sleeping gas in the ventilation.  I figured I might have to carry you all out one by one but I guess that room was well enough sealed. Nice to see you Chong.  And you Madame Speaker, Lawrence.”
They had no time for more talking. Ford piled them in a very tiny car meant for three people.  Malinao wedged uncomfortably in with Chong in the rear compartment.  For that he was grateful. They rode in silence until the reached the main transport station.
Chong headed towards the tarins to Armstrong, but Ford stopped him.
“We’re headed to Tranquility.  I’ll explain on the way.”
Chong found this odd indeed.  Tranquility was a small tourist colony at this point. IN fact it wasn’t even a true colony, it was goverened by Avalon.  Only the museum workers stayed there and most of them lived somewhere else and commuted. It didn’t even have a spaceport.  In pretty much every way you could think about it, it was a dead end.  The exact opposite of the kind of place you wanted to be if youw ere on the run.     They found an empty car on the M Train to Tranquility and sat down for the rather long ride.
“Your man Hashimoto is pretty sharp. I thought I was a goner for sure when Cana extradited me. I suppose that was their plan. I’m pretty sure Cana’s been usurped by the Fundys, but that’s for another day. Hashimoto personally visited me to hear me out, and spoke with one of your guards who was with you in Omaha. Then you two were captured and he pieced together the story from there. Gave me leave to pursue you on my own, knowing he’d blow your cover if he came after you himself.  You could tell it was a hard choice for him though.”
“My cover’s already blown.”
Ford seemed taken aback a bit. “Well how the hell did that happen?”
“Your brother’s now the leader of the Fundys.”
“What?  Oh hell no he’s not. That’s ridiculou.  Narang? Why he hasn’t got a religious bone in his body!”
‘Nevertheless he’s who they took me to meet, and he recognised me. So that’s that.”
“Huh.” Ford consider this for a moment. “Did you get the dot on him?”
“Yes.”
“Good.  We’ll figure this out when we catch him.”
“So why Tranquility?”
“Because it was th eonly place Hashimoto felt he could build up a big staff of people near Cana without anyone noticing. I was to get you and either bring you to Tranquility or send word on your condition if I couldn’t.”
Chong was about to ask about the staff of people when the train suddenly stopped. They hadn’t been riding for very long but they were outside of the Canaan dome, and therfore somehwta vulnerable.  The train tubes were thick, but many a disaster movie had been made on a dead train in an outer tube combined with a meteor strike.  It just made people nervous.
An official came over the speakers with an announcement.
“Ladies and Gentlemen, please do not be alarmed. The Canaan government has requested the train stop while an official constabulary car pulls up to investigate.  Apparently some stolen property may be on the train.  A search will be conducted and we ask everyone to cooperate.  This train is till within the bounds of Canaan colonial law and as such, the Moon Metro service will obery Canaan law enforcement instructions.  We’re sorry for the inconvenience but with your cooperation, we’ll get the train running again as soon as possible.  Thank you.”
Ford and Chong were both looking at the emergency exit and eyeing each other.
“You can’t be serious,” interjected Malinao. “There’s no where to go out there.
“It’s a long walk, I know.  But if I’m right about Cana, we’re probably headed for death at this point,” said Ford.
“They wouldn’t kill the President of the Mooon!” objected Lawrence.
“They’ve wanted to kill him since he came down for th epeace conference.  Now’s their best chance.  Nobody but us knows where he is so nobody will trace the bodies.
The car lurched as the constabulary train hooked on to the end.  It was three cars back.  They needed to make a call right away.
“Follow me,” said Chong. He went away from the emergency exit and towards another door near the end of the car.

The military truck dropped Lawrence and Malinao at the only working airfield on the outskirts of town. They were taking what looked like an old fashioned jet across the Medterranean to Europe. Lawrence’s eyes grew wide as they moved closer to the antique.
“We’re taking that?”
“Don’t worry Mr. President.  She’ll fly,” said the Commander driving the truck. Malinao pinched Lawrence and gave him a look. Lawrence felt the incongruous and uncotrollable urge to grin.
“I’m sorry Commander, you misunderstand me.  I’m very excited.  I’ve made a hobby of studying old airplanes.”
Now Malinao looked like she was going to sock him.  It was true he had studied old airplanes.  It was not true that the Presiden tof the Moon had.  In fact the President of the Moon had often mocked him for his avoication when they worked together in the lunar mines.
“You know you can’t fly one of those here,” Chong had pointed out to him over and over, trying to get him to see the futility of his hobby.  Now Lawrence would get the chance.
“I had no idea Mr. President,” said the driver. “This is an honest to goodness Airbus 380.  Pulled it out of mothballs somewhere in France and started using it at a low point  int he war. An American Lieutenant got it working so well it’s been in use ever since.  Perfectly safe, though I imagine it pollutes the hell out of the sky. Can’t imagine they’ll let us get away with it for much longer.  But to fit your schedule it was the best they could do. Figured it might be a treat as well.  Not many people alive ever rode on one of these and not many people will again.”
Malinao shrugged and sighed. Lawrence was supposed to avoid conversations to prevent people from getting a good look at him, and here he was chatting up an antique airplane buff. she only hoped he would relinquish the role when, and if, they got back together with Chong.  Both of them were extremely worried now and Lawrence had issued a low level search order with the few Generals who knew the situation.
The airplane was a bit musty on the inside. Lawrence caught his breath when he saw too wide-eyed passengers staring at them as they came around a corner into the main cabin.
“Dummies,” Malinao pointed out. “Look there’s even a plaque describing them here on the armrest. This thing must have been in a museum. They continued to inspect the cabin and found other plaques describing how people flew back in the old days.  A few of the rows had been taken apart to display the oxygen masks and other safety systems. (In one seat a tray table was glued in its down position with a preserved airplane snack, magazine and beverage.
“I imagine we won’t get that kind of service on this flight.
“No, I imagine not,” said a deep male voice.
Lawrence turned around to greet what he expected to be the Captain.  Instead he found himself face to face with a six-foot tall dark-haired moustachioed man holding a gun.
“I would call you Mr. President, but I’ve heard we already have one of those in our custody in Cana. So whoever you are, and Madame Speaker, please have a seat and fasten your seatbelts. Our flight will be departing momentarily for Algiers, where you will make a transfer to a Lunar-bound ship. For your convenience and the safety of our crew, I’ll be handcuffing you.”
He expertly cuffed Malinao and Lawrence to their seats and then to each other.
“Sorry fot the patter there.  I’ve been hiding in the crew cabin, forced to read the display about flight announcements. I tried to keep it as true to the original as possible.  I hope you enjoyed.  Our flight will take us a few hours. I’m afraid I won’t be able to come back and check on you as I’ll be flying the airplane. But do try to relax and enjoy the flight.”
Lawrence could just see as moustache man and another similarly dressed man dragged the actual military pilot out of the cabin and dumped him on the tarmac. Malinao could see nothing. The other man left the way they’d come in and closed the hatch door, leaving them alone on the airplane with the pilot.
“Did he sound Venezuelan to you?” asked Lawrence.
“No he didn’t, he sounded America,” snapped Malinao. “I’m more concerned with whether he really knows how to fly this thing alone.”
Suddenly something hit Lawrence. “These kind of aircraft require a pilot a navigator and ground control to fly properly.  This guy only has one of the three. His knuckles turned white as he gripped the armrest.
The flight went off without a hitch. Lawrence tried to enjoy the feeling of traveling in old fashioned style despite the hadncuffs, but it certainly wasn’t the way he had dreamed of doing it. They landed in a wide field outside what presumably was Algiers.  The climate felt hot and dry enough for that to be true.  A waiting interplanetary ship took them on board where they were once again cuffed into much more comfortable wide leather seats in the back of a commercial craft of some size.
Malinao and Lawrence had speculated quite  bit on who these people were and now their theories were getting wilder.  The organization would need to employ a pilot expert in flying ancient airplanes and have the werewithal to operate an unlicensed interplanetary commerical craft.
“Well they can’t land anywhere in the UMC without attracting attention.  There are ways to bluff obviously, bu they’re very particular about getting confirmed departure credentials these days and those are hard to fake.”
“Could they land in Cana?”
“Possibly.  The Cana spaceport is extremely small, so they;d be noticed, but they’re not too big for it. Cana’s just as strict as the UMC though. So I doubt they’ll have an easier time. Unless…”
“Unless what?”
“Unless they’ve infiltarted the spaceport staff. There was a lot of fear during the war that Cana would side with the Fundys.  They had some pretty solid support.  Even after the colony joined the alliance, they never did much.  Just some funding and a few peacekeeping troops.  A lot of people felt the Fundys would be able to assimilate into Cana.  Nothing ever came of that.  At least we didn’t think anything ever came of it.”
“All right you two, shut up.”
“An African woman came striding back down the aisle of the ship. Look, I’m monitoring everything you say and I have to monitor everything you say, so let me just give you a reason to shut up.  We’re landing in Cana. There’s no conspiracy, we have a license out of Algiers.  We made a pit stop to pick you up which we’re going to explain as a fuel inefficency. Now I don’t know who you are fake President, but you better save your energy because an interrogator is meeting us at Cana and he’s pretty psyched to practie his trade figuring out your identity and why you’ve been masquerading as Chong.  got me?” She smiled a severly insincere smile and walked back up the aisle.
“OK then,” Malinao managed.
Lawrence kept fairly quiet after that.

Chong had no idea how long he’d been waiting. Ever since Patel’s man had brought him to the low-slung metal shed, he had been sitting alone in a small room. They fed him and allowed him to use the restroom and showers and gave him a bed.  He wasn’t guarded, but only told that if he wished to see Patel, he must wait.  He didn’t doubt he would have been confronted if he tried to leave, but they seemed very unconcerned about the possibility of that happening.
He had little choice anyway.  He could try to find Ford, but that might attract attention, and if he did find him, they would just end up back here.  Without Patel, all their work was for nothing. He spent his time trying to gather as much information as he could. The shed was guarded at the entrance during the day by two young Canaans named Giuseppe and Hez. They were relieved after twelve hour shifts by a much less friendly German named Friedrich. Giuseppe and Hez were the only Canaans in the poutfit and were incongruously lighthearted.  They had spent some time trying to teach Chong they’r efavorite boyhood Canaan songs. They considered them extremly dirty by Canaan standards.  They involved poop and occasioanlly the titillating mention of girls. A man named Carlos had stopped that quickly and the Canaans were friendly but prefered not to talk to Chong now.
Carlos was definitely Venezuelan and definitely missing an eye, though the prosthetic replacement was very convincing for something inert. Carlos obviously had not the funds or freedom to get a proper robotic eye installed. Aside from Carlos and the guards, there were two other men who brought Chong his food and other necessities but said almost nothing.  One was the man who had met him in the street, whom Chong had discovered was named Benito. Chong hadn’t discovered the name of the other man, but they both seemed Venezuelan as well.
Carlos had given Chong a gruff but polite talk on his arrival but hadn’t spoke to him since. “Mr. Dewitt, you are welcome to stay and wait, but you live by our rules,” Carlos had told him.  Apparently those rules were wahtever Carlos said, because he never stated exactly what the rules were.
As Chong sat in his room trying to picture a memory of Samantha Malinao, Carlos burst in the door.
“Senor Dewitt. Will you come with me to my office, please.” He didn’t wait for an answer but strode out.  Chong followed. In Carlos office was perhaps the smallest adult man Chong had seen, that wasn’t a midget. His features were all proprtional to his size but his size was only 4 foot 9 at most. He seemed shrunken rather than short. The small man stood upon chong’s arrival.
“Mr. Dewiit, a pleasure to meet you. I am Sridat Patel.”
Chong shook hands with him and took a seat when offered.
“Carlos tells me your associate Mr. Baker was taken in for questioning. We’ve located him. He’s being held without bail at the Canaan Central Security Hall. It is unfortunate that this has happened.  I hope it doesn’t compromise your position in any way.”
Chong shook his head.
“Good.  I apologise for making you wait, but we had to be sure, no similar manhunt was out for you.  I’m happy to say there is not. So I assume we can proceed without Mr. Baker present?”
“Yes, if that’s acceptable,” answered Chong.
“Quite. My associate from Gabon informed me you are prepared to make a heavy investment with us in exchange for some scientific services,” Patel looked down at this last part as if too embarrassed to say the word cloning.
“Yes, we have.  Mr. Baker believes you may have the werewithal to — provide us with some security — for our health.  Especially our organs.”
Patel wiped his forehead nervously. “I must tell you Mr. Chong, this is quite  delciate subject for us.  We’ve undergone a massive change of perspective regarding these procedures, but it has not left behind its share of controversy.  Ther eare those in our organization that would turn you away flat for what you are suggesting.  They feel it is sacrilege.”
“And your opinion Mr. Patel?”
“Hogwash. How you can support part of our research without supporting it all. You are not proposing to animate the subjects, only to grow them.  That is no different from what my labe has done many times. And the payment you’ve mad already and are prepared to offer for completion, is quite generous.”
Chong had Patel in a snap. He had no morals but he was attarcted to money. He worked for the Fundys because they allowed him to carry on his work and get paid well where nowhere else in both worlds would let him.  He had convinced the Fundys to investigate cloning, and when they finally rejected him, had torn apart a splinter group, all to keep him paid.  His only reasoning for risking meeting with these strangers was the money. Chong bet himself that his next question would be about payment.
“I trust the situation of Mr. Baker does not affect that payment?”
Almost dead on. “No sir. The amount in question is registered in a South African Bank under confidentiality rules and held in escrow for you.”
Patel’s eyes brightened at the mention of escrow. “Excellent. Then there is just one more thing.”
Chong nodded.
“A DNA test. We know your name is most likely not Dewitt, and we understand the need for secrecy.  We will not try to identify you directly, only rule out the possibility of you being one of our many enemies.”
Chong tried to remain calm. “Is that absolutely necessary?”
“It is not only necessary, but already done. Your stay here provided the material we needed. The test results have been churning away.  No positives yet, you’ll be pleased to hear. Benito should be back with the results any moment.  I told him to meet with me here instead of at my office. If everything is as expected, we will go from here to meet with our organizational head and arrange the terms of the deal.”
This was exactly as Ford and Chong had planned. They would make payment and order clones for organ replacement, a highly illegal activity on both worlds.  However they would gain the identity of the Fundy leader.  They weren’t to take any action immediately, just record. Subdermal implants would take all the data they needed including skin flakes for DNA if possible. Another subdermal dart would stain the Fundy leader’s skin with a trackable quantum dot. Chong would then leave to go back to Earth and hopefully make it to Vatican City in time to meet the Pope.
That is, if Richard chong’s DNA wasn’t on the enemy list.  A thought struck Chong immediately.  If they did have him on the list it meant they had his DNA.  Could they make a clone of him then?  Or woudl they need more.  He never discussed enough of the workings of the clone machines with Ford.
Benito came rushing into the room panting and gesticulating. Chong braced to run if he needed to, but he wasn’t sure where he’d go.
“They’ve taken Baker to New Canaveral.  They extradited him this morning. It’s big.  He’s being taken into UMC governmental custody, which mean’s he’s an enemy of the state.
Patel looked at Chong with a raised eyebrow. “You’re need for secrecy is very great indeed.  Who is Mr. Baker, Mr. Dewiit? I think maybe we might have a case for needing to know.”
Chong paused. “I understand.  However, it is of such a nature, I would prefer to reveal it only in private. May we proceed to your organizational head’s office?  His identity would make more sense to your head I have a feeling.”
Patel considered this.  It was a huge gamble.  If they found out it was Ford, he wasn’t sure what they’d do.  They still thought Ford worked fro them, but it would lead to many questions, like why Ford needed a clone made when he had several already. But it also gave Chong time to think.
“Of course,” Patel nodded his head. “I see that is wise. However, I need to confirm your test came out clear. Benito?”
He was still out of breath. “I had to get over here as fast as I could.  I’ll have to go back and check.”
‘Very well,” said Patel. “Our time is valuable. Call me when you know. Meanwhile, Mr. Dewitt, if you please, we will head towards our office.  Carlos will drive,” he turned to Benito.  “We will hear before I arrive yes?”
Benito nodded and took that as his cue to leaves.

Carlos led them outside to a small mini-car.  The flew across Cana from the industrial section of the colony into the poorer section.  Cana had little crime, but it did have a large impoverished class.  The irony was that some Canaans lived that way voluntarily as part fo their religion, so it was an odd mix of people trying to get out and trying to get in. They landed in a parking lot across from a church. Carlos led them again over to a pet shop.  Small Beagle puppies played in the window and mugged for Chong’s attention.  He heard them whining as they passed.
The went up a set of stairs to the side and into a dingy unmarked office.
“Wait here Mr. Dewitt, I’ll call Benito and then bring in our leader.”
Chong had no idea what would happen at this point if he failed the test.  He imagined it involved killing him in some way, but he couldn’t put his finger on which way.  perhaps choking him with Carlos’ glass eye.
Patel put the phone down and looked Chong in the eye. “You’re clear as expected.  I’ll just be a moment.”
After a few seconds, Patel came back with a man dressedall in black, with shades and a dark hat on. This would be tougher to ID than Chong thought.  He activated the Quantum Dot and hoped for the best.
Patel’s voice shook as he made the introduction. “Your honor, this is the man who has inquired about our services.  I’d like to present–”
“President Chong,” said the voice from under the hat. “How very nice to meet you again.  Very distressing too though I must say.”
Chong recognized the voice.  It was British Minister Narang.

Baghdad was a pit. It had gone through many ups and downs in its history, but the Fundy’s had brought it to its lowest point ever. The UN had made sure water and electricity services worked but there was hardly a building worth serving with them left. Most of the damager had been done by the Fundys themselves.  The Battle of Bghdad had been one of the hardest fought as Touraeg himself had been caught in the city. IN a fit of rage he had ordered Baghdad leveled rather than let it fall into Alliance hands.  He almost succeeded.
Malinao and Lawrence were housed in the UN commission building in an old bus station on Rashid Street. They had a lovely view of the Dijla river, but other than that all seemed to be rubble as far as the eye could see. The only building over one story left in eyesight from the UN building was the Great Mosque which against all odds, had survived the war.
Malinao and Lawrence had taken a walk on their first day there, and had found only military walking through the wreckage.  No major rebuilding efforts could begin until the area was certified free of mines that the Fundys had left strewn throughout the city.  Every other day another family out foraging for food was blown up by a mine. The central city was a ghost town.  It reminded Lawrence more of an abandoned lunar settlement than a major Terran city.
It was his hardest test so far.  Until now, he had most been dreading Vatican City and his fear that the Pope or other dignitaries there would unmaske him.  But this was worse.  He needed Chong now. These people were truly hopeless. The stacks of bodies in Omaha filled him with anger, but Baghdad just made him sad. What hope could the President of the Moon offer a city damaged this badly.  Even more, what hope could a political aide pretending to be the President offer them.  He did not have the words for this.
He was to speak on the steps of the Mosque. That morning Malinao found him sitting staring out at the Dijla rolling by.
“Are you ready Lawrence?” She looked more concerned than he had seen her yet. The light of Baghdad turned everything a bit yellow and it gave her face  fresh glow.
He smiled.  He understood why Richard liked her. He wondered if they’re tasks had helped at all.
“I was just thinking of the President. Do you think he succeeded?  Whatever he was doing?”
She shrugged and smiled a little. “It’s hard to say?  I guess we’ll find out soon enough. Where’s your speech?”
Lawrence balked. “all up in here,” he managed to lie. The truth was he hadn’t been able to think of a word to say. The weight of the devastation had him tounge-tied.  He was too nervous to ask Malinao for help.  She was here to accompany him to the car that would take them across the river to the Mosque.
He decided to brazen it out.  Maybe the words would come to him. “Let’s go,” he said getting up.
“You don’t know what to say do you?” Malinao looked at him with no small amount of wonder. “Yet you’re willing to just carry on and do this for him.  You’re doing more than an aide would Lawrence.  You’re  atrue friend.”
Lawrence pondered how astute Malinao was. She could see through him very easily.
She walked over and took him by both hands. “Chong will be all right because he has a friend like you looking out for him. So will Baghdad for similar reasons.”
Like that Lawrence had his speech.
A little over an hour later, he stood on the steps of the Mosque looking down over a crowd of about 50 people in front of backdrop of broken biuildings, torn up pavement and unidentifiable rubble.  Almost every human within five miles had come to listen. As their applause died down there were no sounds but those of the desert and Dijla. He was almost finished.
“It is hard for friends in trying times. No matter what you do, you can’t always protect your friends.  Sometimes the best way to help them leaves them on their own. But true friends are never left alone. The UMC is a true friend to not only Baghdad but all of United Arabia. and after we get you back on your feet.  The Moon will be better for having a friend like Baghdad. May our friendship be unending insha’Allah. Ansalamu Allaikum.”
The assembled crowd applauded heartily and the Minister of Recovery in charge of the rebuilding of Baghdad slapped Lawrence on the back and had tears in his eyes.
Malinao gripped his arm and whispered into his ear. “That was fantastic Lawrence.”  He thought he could see a shade of a tear in her eye as well.
When they got back to the UN building, Malinao and Lawrence decided to have dinner in their room. There weren’t any restaurants open, and they were weray of the UN cafeteria. Plus they wanted to speak freely and could not do that int he common dining area. Many of the military men had gained a great new respect for Chong deciding to visit Baghdad, rather than the more comfortable Riyadh. All that admiration made Lawrence all the more sad that Chong was not here to benefit from it. Although he knew Chong wouldn’t let it go to his head if he accepted it or even noticed it at all.
As they sat down to eat, Lawrence thought Malinao seemed giddy.
“I had no idea you spoke Arabic,” she said grinning.
“Oh I don’t.  As an aide you pick up little things here and there.  Niceties, greetings, etc.”
“Well it worked wonders.  I thought the Minister was going to marry you.”
“That would have been unlikely,” laughed Lawrence.
“I’m nervous that we haven’t heard from Chong,” Malinao bit her nails. Lawrence decided her giddiness must be nervousness.  her ecstatic smile had changed suddenly to a frown. “Where is he?”
Lawrence started to say somethign but was interrupted by a scuffle outside and a shot. They both ran into the hallway to see John Ford lying in a pool of blood. Lawrence realized it was the killer clone.
“What happened?” he demanded of the guard.
“This man answere the description of John Ford.  We caught him attempting to sneak up to your room sir. Our orders were to shoot on sight.”
Lawrence knew they had to act fast he heard the UN officers barging up the stairs.
“Post guards at the entryways.  Nobody gets in.  This man is not John Ford, but a clone.  That’s been top secret info and I need it to stay that way,” barked Lawrence.  He was surprised at the confidence of his own voice. When the UN asks, it was a ruffian of unknown description.  I want this man in a body bag–”
“Sir, he’s not dead.”
Lawrence rushed to Ford’s side.  The guard was right, Ford was breathing.
He smiled when he saw Lawrence leanbing over him. “You do look kinda like him.  He started to chuckle but wince in pain instead. “Chong and Ford are being held in Cana,” he coughed, “separately.  They need you now.” With that Ford passed out. Lawrence looked up at Malinao.  He was paralyzed.  The rush of adrenaline that had gave him such decisiveness minutes before had fled.
“I’ll handle the coverup,” Malinao said. “I’m American, we’re good at it. Stay with him.”
Malinao rushed off to the stairs and Lawrence could hear her handling the demanding UN reps.
Ford opened his eyes one more time before he passed away. The only other words he managed to say to Lawrence were, “Here in Baghdad, passkey Wilfredo.”

This is an ongoing story as part of National Novel Writing Month 

Meanwhile back on the ground, Ford deflated his seersucker impact-resistant damage prevention suit, brushed himself off, and began the long trek back towards the city center. He pulled out a sub-phone and called Chong.
“They bought it Chong.  They’ll both be occupied on the false tasks you assigned them– Yes, yes, no suspicions at all – very good.  I’ll see you back in Libreville.”
He eventually found the vehicle they’d hidden and flew back into the Oloumi district. Chong was waiting in an empty warehouse, where they had been holed up for the last few days. Ford found him at a deskset, prowling through some data one of the Ford clones had delivered early that morning.
“Did they look all right?” Chong asked as soon as he noticed Ford was back.
“Yes, yes. A little weary, but otherwise fine.”
“I can’t believe you talked me into this.”
“But it’s working. We almost had them here. don’t worry, son.  Baghdad will deliver them to us.”
Chong turned back to the data, muttering.
“Try not to get too lost in that, we need to be in Cana soon.”
Chong waved a hand meaning he knew and he wouldn’t. The two men had developed a fairly nice rapport over the past week or so. Chong was still put off by the clones, especially the one that had tried to kill him.  He wasn’t too sure that Ford didn’t still wish to kill him. But he actually liked the original Ford.
Their strategy had formed on the fly in Caracas.  It almost worked there. So they had given it a try in Libreville as well. They’d had less success but not because the plan was bad. They hadn’t counted on a rubber shipment arriving and sucking up all the available labour.  They’d had to do all the footwork themselves.
The plan was elegant in its simplicity and Chong had to credit Ford with most of its construction. The killer Ford was assumed to be still working for the Fundy faction. They would send him out to plan an assasination attempt on Chong, based on the knowledge of the appearances. This would lead them to real Fundy-related contacts. The original Ford would then meet with thos contacts, pretending to be a high-level Fundy himself.  He would attempt to draw out one of the leaders and hence discover the headquarters of the clone movement.
In Caracas, they had pinned down the identity of the chief scientist.  He was hiding out on the Moon in the independent Cana colony. In Libreville they were hoping to get the name of the logistical head. With those two, Ford felt sure he could bluff his way into finding out the headquarters location.  However, because of the lack of help, they had missed a meeting with the Gabon cell chief of the Fundy clone movement and aroused suscpicions. Chong had come up with the idea of egtting Lawrence and Malinao to create some distractions to throw the Fundys off the scent. Ford had insisted that Malinao and Lawrence be led to believe what they were doing was real, in order to preserve the appearance of a real UMC movement against he Fundys.  This would have the negative affect of the Fnudys believing the UMC was aware of them,and this make the more secretive.  However, Ford believed he had gained enough trust not to worry too much, and hoped that it would also cause the logitical chief to make some moves he might not otherwise make, and reveal some intelligence.
The killer Ford clone was already ont he ground in Baghdad and had sent back reams of data onthe Arabian Fundy cells.  More than Chong or Ford could have hoped for, and unfortunately more than they could work through before they had to get to Cana to meet with the chief Fundy scientist.
“Dump it, Chong. Ford 3 can comb it for any other relevance back in Oakland.” Ford had his gear on and was heading towards an unmarked car parked at the rear of the warehouse.
Chong unwillingly logged off after a sending a message to Oakland. He knew they needed to hurry.  They would not be able to take an elevator. Instead they would catch a Moon flight from Lagos, Nigeria, probably connecting in Cairo, to Houston de la Luna, the major spaceport in the UMC. From there they’d take the M train through Armstrong out to Cana.
Cana was the only permanent colony on the Moon that was not part of the United Moon Colonies. It had a religious history and therefore was a popular hideout for Fundys.  But their refusal to associate with the Fundys had made it somehwat neutral ground during the war.  Now, Cana was having trouble keeping the former Fundys out.  Somehow though, the Scientist Sridat Patel had found his way in and was conducting high level experiments in Cana undetected.  It was from there that Ford duspceted his wife’s clone had originated.
After hours of grueling travel the M train finally deposited Ford and Chong in the spartan but clean Cana terminal. The still had an hour before their meeting with Patel in the Cana central plaza. They decided to get a meal, which was no easy task in Cana.
Restaurants per se were forbidden in Cana, based on some interpretatin of some particular religions precepts. It was deemed unseemly for one to require others to bring you food prepared by someone unseen in exchange for money. Something about it being to close to prostitution. That didn’t mean there was nowhere to eat in Cana, it just meant you had to know who was cooking your meal.  That could be trouble for two people trying to keep a secret identity.
However Cana did now suffer some tourism, a decadence decried by the conservatives in their government.  For that reason, a small industry of introductory services had popped up that would lead you to places to eat.  All in all it meant you got to find a nice restaurant with good food at a reasonable price, it just took you two hours to do it, and Ford and Chong didn’t have two hours.
Instead they would have to either ferret out a semi-legal food stand, or push through the crowd at an open market bazaaar.  A bazaar was not considered the least bit sinful, as long as 10 percent of the profits went to the Cana Assistance Department for feeding the hungry. If you could get through the crowds, you could find some pre-prepared foods masquerading as groceries. This could also eat up time, depending on the crowd size.
In the end Ford and Chong decided to risk a food stand. Patrons rarely got arrested at the food stands, especially if they appeared to be from out of town. The owners of the stands were adept at becoming old friends with you before they prepared your meal. It wasn’t an ideal situation for two men with a cover story, but they were hungry and figured the risk was small.
A large burly man with a moustache stood at an unmarked counter along a side street off the main plaza thoroughfare.  He eyed their hungry faces immediately.
“Hello old friends,” he shouted in the traditional call of the Cana food vendor. “Come come and sit and say hello.  It’s been ages.”
Ford and Chong liked the smells coming form the place and decided to sit.
“Boris welcomes you back to Cana.”
Chong knew how this went and he led. “John her and myself Frank are so glad to be back.”
The man smiled at Chong’s knowledge of the game.  This would make things much easier.
“John and Frank, what a pleasure to lay eyes on you,” Boris said taking each of them by the shoulder in the Cana greeting.
“But can you stay and sit awhile and catch up with old Boris on your business?”
Again Chong knew the patter. “Of course.  Our trading in textiles goes well. We hope to make a deal for distribution this week, if all goes well. My salesman here has the gift of gab.  I thnk everything’s going to go great. As a mid-level manager he makes my life so much easier.  But he has no wife or kids to burden him, like my wife Sarah and our two boys Jim and Bob.”
Ford admired the ease with which Chong weaved the story. Chong wondered if Ford knew this was a standrad story used for quick eating.  It was often possible to find a stand with the three textile dealers chatting about their wives all named Sarah.
Boris grinned, especially pleased at Chong’s adeptness with the story.
“But I am sor ude, won;t you stay and eat with me. It is the least I can share with you in my poverty.  It has been six days a piece I have been toiling with my troubles.”
This meant they could pay six coins each for their food.  Chong nodded acceptance and Boris disappeared.
“So what kind of food do we get?”
“Whatever Cana provides,” Chong said. “That’s the tradeoff with the speed of a food counter. You don’t get to pick.
Boris came back smiling widely with two bowls of nooodles, sauce and some kind of cooked meat. Just then a couple tentatively approached.  They seemed to be first-time tourists from somewhere in the UMC.
“Hello old friends,” shouted Boris as he went over to welcome them.
Ford and Chong ate silently.  The food was hot and greasy but very good.  A thick meal that would keep them full for awhile. Chong chuckled as he caught snatches of the conversation between Boris and the tourists.  They were far from adept at this game and Boris was bending over backwards to take their orders without breaking the law. At one point he heard Boris muttering lowly to the tourists, probably instructing them what to say next.
Unfortunately for Boris a Canaan constable happened to be strolling by and this caught his attention.
He approached the three and began berating poor Boris.  The tourists were dumbfounded and could hardly speak, which was probably lucky, because if they had spoken it might have landed Boris with a fine or a night in prison. After Boris identified them as his old friends Lois and Juan, the constable asked for their IDs.
“Uh-oh,” Chong said. “The diners never get in trouble but we will have to show an ID to see if old Boris is tellign the truth.  That could prove complicated.  Let’s go.”
They both regrtefully left their half-eaten bowls on the counter along with 12 coins Chong had withdrawn from his account at the train station. The constable noticed their hurried departure and shouted after them.
“Run!” Chong yelled and made for an alleyway.  He knew the constable wouldn’t chase after them long for such a petty offense.  He’d probably suspect they were scared tourists.  Chong made the corner and turned around in time to see Ford lying down on the side of the road holding his leg as the constable approached with his club held out. In no time, Ford was cuffed and being escorted away by the constable.
Chong thought about running after him, but he knew it would blwo his cover.  Thank god it was Ford that got nabbed though.  Chong felt a pang of guilt over this, but Ford had legit ID and experience getting out of these situations. As long as the constable was satisfied with this story and didn’t run a UMC check on him they’d be fine.  If he did run a UMC check, which Cana didn’t always so, certainly not for a petty thing like this, but if they did, they’d find a high priority presidential warrant out for Ford.
In Cana that could mean he’d be extradited, or it could mean they’d decide to try him under Canaan law.  If they did that, he’d be executed.
Chong let out a brief sigh. That would take weeks, and hopefully Chong would be able to rescinf the order by then.  But it made things extremely complicated.
“Mr. Dewitt?” a man had appeared out of nowhere at Chong’s side.  He paused for a moment before remembering that Dewitt was the name he had given the Fundys.
“Who wants to know?”
“I’m Mr. Patels’ assistant. I saw what happened to Mr. Baker.  I’ll see what we can do.  In the meantime would you come with me?”
“I have busines sin the plaza,” Chong said, being careful in case this wasn’t Patel’s man after all.
“Plans have changed.  You’re to come with me.”
Chong noticed the assistant held a small charge gun at gut level.
“I guess I’ll come with you then,” said Chong, absurdly wishing he could go back and finish the bowl of noodles.

“Will the world be a better, place?” Malinao exclaimed to the assembled crowd in Parque los Caobos. “Yes.  Will Venezuela be a better place?  Yes. Will caracas once again feel the flow of the world’s exonomy through her veins? Yes. President Chong has just finished meeting with your newly elected government, and committed continued UMC aid for the rebuilding efforts, and a UMC troop withdrawal plan for Caracas, that will be dictated by your government. I now, give you the President of United Moon Colonies, Richard Chong!”
The crowd’s uproarious applause stunned Lawrence a bit and he paused.  They began chanting Chong’s name.
“Come on Chong,” Malinao whispered as she pulled him toward the podium. “You have to talk a little or it won’t work.”
Lawrence approached the podium and waved to the crowd. He was dressed in a hat and coat.  They had died his hair, and from a distance he could be mistaken for Chong.  The problems were the video closeups. The hat and glasses helped with that and the explanation for both were the side effects of the abduction in Omaha. Lawrence had been imitating Chong privately to other staff members for years, but it was quite different to do it in front of a crowd of cheering Venezuelans.
“Thank you Speaker,” he managed in what he felt was a passible imitation.  He only had a few sentences.  He had to power through it.
“I am only sorry my health has not recoverd sufficiently to allow me to speak to you more. I feel the rise of Venezuela today!”  He even managed to give a Chong-like uptick at the end of the sentence that caused another round of cheering and applause.
“The Moon is committed to rebuilding the Earth. We start here, and in Omaha, and Africa, Europe and United Arabia. But our commitment will strengthen the entire world and make peace, both lasting and beneficial to all peoples.” Lawrence was just getting into it but he only had one line left.
“We will not quit before the job is done.  We will not stay after the job is done. We stand united with Caracas and the world!” That last little bit had been his own improvisation and he was smiling to himself about how Chongian it was.  He did write the occasional speech after all.  He felt the Speaker grab his arm.
“That’s enough Mr. President,” she muttered through clenched teeth.
“Thank you, and Viva Venezuela!” She almost yanked his arm off after that last bit but it sent the crowd into a tizzy of noise and he yanked back so he could wave to the crowd before he departed. The Mayor of Caracas was next, thanking the President for all he had done and trying to soak up some of that crowd approval for himself. The Speaker led Lawrence off the stage and inbetween some UMC guards who ccompanies them down the steps.
The chief aide of the President pro tem of Venezuela stopped them before they could make a clean getaway to their waiting car.
“Mr. President, you promised to stay for the ceremonies.  Where are you going?”
Malinao butted in. “The President’s health is still precarious.  I’m afraid even that little bit of excitement was too much for him.”
Lawrence obligingly coughed, making it appear he was close to losing a lung or two.
“I’m so sorry to hear that.  Be well, Mr. President.  And thank you for all you have done for my country.” The Aide shook the President’s hand with the air of someone who is already telling the stories of how he once shook the President of the Moon’s hand.  Nobody might ever know that the story was a lie, including the aide himself.
When safely int he car, Lawrence took off the hat an dglasses and let loose a huge sigh of relief. The streets of Caracas swept by as they flew toward the airport.
“Not bad, but don’t go getting a big head and improvising whole speeches lawrence.  We can’t afford that much exposure,” Malinao chided.
“I’m sorry.  I got a little carried away.  Hopefully though my little touches of realism will help more than hurt Speaker.”
“Samantha.”
“I’m sorry?” Lawrence stopped fiddling with his clothes and looked up at her.
“If we’re going to be spending so much time together call me Samantha.  besides, the cover story is that we’re lovers, so I doubt lovers call each other ‘Speaker’ and ‘Mr. President’ when alone.
“It is just a cover story,” lawrence looked a tad frightened.
Malinao busted out laughing. “Don’t worry Lawrence.  I’m not putting the moves on you. Just trying to add some touches of realism, like you say,” she continued chuckling to herself.
Now Lawrence looked a bit put out at her laughter, but thought it wise to keep his thoughts to himself.  Instead he changed the subject.
“Have you heard from him?”
“Not yet,” Malinao’s tone turned suddenly sombre. “I’m sure he’s all right.  We aren’t supposed to worry until two days form now.  By then we’ll be in Gabon.”
The trip to Libreville, Gabon was uneventful and the meetings with the government, the tour, and the big speech went off without a hitch.  Luckily the President’s planned route included many areas he had never visited, so few people were even suspicious of Lawrence. The story of his illness took hold and spread like wildfire through the press. Lawrence gained som eentertainment reviewing the theories to what was really wrong with President Chong.
The toughest stop would be Vatican City. Many UMC officials were stationed there.  Too many to include them all in the cover story. Also, Chong had met with the Pope and would likely have to meet him again. Malinao and Lawrence discussed whether Chong should take a turn for the worse during their stay in the Vatican.  They decided to see how the trip to Baghdad went, before they made any firm plans.
The whole Libreville trip was over and they still had not heard from Chong. Malinao and Lawrence were awaiting their car in the lobby of the Hotel de Ville. Two UMC guards stood by while they waited. An old man in a seersucker suit was the only other person in the lobby.  Even the staff was on a break and a bell sta unattended on the front desk. Tourism in Gabon had not returned to normal levels since the Fundys left. There was much rebuilding to be done all over Africa.
Lawrence watched the old man page through a French newspaper occasionally spitting into a plant.  He found this odd behaviour but he had seen odder. The man’s dress also made him stand out.  Lawrence felt alarm bells go off.  Did he know the man? Maybe he was just paranoid. He was about to make himself stop thinking when the man looked over at him.
“Lawrence?” the man asked.
Lawrence barely caught himself before he answered.  He was in full Chong disguise mode from the hat to the shades to the coat. He was not supposed to be Lawrence. Malinao answered.
“I’m sorry sir, I’m afraid you have us mistaken.”
The old man nodded. “Oh.  of course.  I’m sorry.” Instead of going back to his paper, he got up and walked over towards them.  The guard’s snapped to attention.
“Oh my.  I’m sorry, I just wanted to introduce myself. I’m John.”
A guard stepped in front of him. “The President is not taking any vistors at this time,” the guards spat out in a deep imposing voice trained to dissuade most people from continuing. Somehow it didn’t stop the old man.
“Oh, President eh?  My my.  President of the whole Moon then?”
Lawrence eyed him closely.  He looked so familiar but he couldn’t put his finger on it. He stepped a hlaf step back just in case.  Malinao interjected.
“We don’t mean to scare you sir, but the President has had some very bad experiences lately.  You may have heard of his ill health because of it.  We ask you to step away.
“You must be Samantha,” he said turning to her.  This knocked her back on her heels for a half second, but she recovered.
“Speaker Malinao, if you please sir,” she threw him a haughty look.
“I see why he likes you.”
The cover story worked.  Malinao tried to look embrassed and stole a look at Lawrence.
“No not him,” the old man said. “I mean Richard.”
The guards had the old man by the shirt collar and awaited orders. Malinao looked around.  Nobody else was here to witness the conversation, so no damage done there.  But what to do with the doddering old fool.  Did he really know something.
“What’s your name?”
The man looked mor eput out than scared by this point. “I told you, I’m John.  John Ford. I have a message from Richard.”
“Put him down,” Malinao yelled.