Chapter 33: CHAPTER THIRTY TWO

General Wittenberg was glad he had come to Canada, to this village. He had seen the aliens, had observed them with critical eyes. He hadn’t talked with them, except the one who called herself Chandrha. A thorn in his side, a fly in his chicken noodle soup. She had admitted to killing Colonel Westwood, but for some strange reason hadn’t been arrested.

She wasn’t going to get away with murder. He didn’t care what the Canadian government said about them. What kind of bullshit were these people spreading? The Air Force couldn’t afford to lose men as capable as Colonel Westwood.

It was time to take control of the situation.

He wore his full uniform as he walked down the middle of the road. In his hand he held a bullhorn, holding it at his side as he watched the aliens and those animals that were always with them. What were they doing here? Did they think they could just come here and live their lives as if they owned this planet?

He raised the bullhorn. “Attention. May I have your attention, please?” He waited for them to come to him. Curiosity would bring them here.

It didn’t take long for the aliens and their animals to gather in the center of the village where he was standing, waiting. The aliens and their whistling dragons, as well as the cast and crew of that movie they were filming had shown up, puzzled expressions on their faces.

“My name is General Albert Wittenberg,” he said, voice loud enough to carry throughout the village. “I have come here from Cheyenne Mountain Air Force Base in Colorado. I’m the commanding officer with the United States Air Force assigned to take you aliens back to Colorado. More of my men will arrive soon, and then we will begin the evacuation.”

“To use a colorful phrase, General Wittenberg,” one of the male aliens said. “Bullshit.”

“You can’t take us,” one of the females said. She stepped closer to him, ears back, tail movements almost hypnotic. “We’re under the protection of the Canadian government.”

Another alien placed a paw on her arm. “Let’s hear what he has to say, Chandrha.”

Chandrha. The one who had murdered Colonel Westwood. And she had the nerve to tell him he couldn’t take them to Colorado.

“When we reach the base,” he said, “you’ll be put on trial for murder... Chandrha.”

“Wait a minute,” Montelier called. He trotted up to the humans and aliens. “How do you intend to take these aliens from this village, General?”

“A plane is coming with my men. The aliens will board the plane, and they will be taken to Cheyenne Mountain Air Force Base in Colorado.”

Montelier scratched the side of his head. “I can’t let you do that, General. Right now you don’t have any jurisdiction in this country, so you might as well board your plane right now and go home.” He ran a finger along the side of his head, said nothing for a moment. “If you decide to bring your men up here, if that plane so much as touches down, I will place you and your men under arrest.”

“Arrest? On what charge?”

“Illegal entry into Canada, attempted kidnapping... kidnapping, if you succeed in getting the aliens on that plane...”

Chandrha gasped. The world of the Tereskàdians and the whistling dragons was changing, and certainly not for the better. Humans, who had no business here, had invaded their territory, despite laws passed by the Canadian government. And now this human from the Air Force was determined to remove them from their sanctuary.

“You don’t want a war, Mr. Montelier,” Wittenberg stated.

“Sergeant.” Montelier had his weapon in his hand so fast even Chandrha didn’t see how that could possibly happen. The RCMP officer leveled it at General Wittenberg. “I told Colonel Westwood these aliens are not to be removed from this village. In case you forgot what happened when these aliens arrived, General Wittenberg, let me refresh your memory. You’re in their territory; while they are in this village they have immunity. The Canadian government called it immunity from prosecution, immunity from persecution.”

“That’s bullshit, and you know it.” Wittenberg kept his eyes on the weapon. “What are you going to do? If you arrest me you won’t hold me for long because my men will be here sometime today, and we will overrun this village, and we’re going to do what we intend to do with these aliens.”

Montelier pushed the weapon against Wittenberg’s temple. “I want you to contact your men, and tell them not to bother coming here.”

“I sure as hell will not... Sergeant.”

Montelier holstered his weapon, walked to the diner. Wittenberg’s eyes followed him, wondered what the RCMP man was up to.

“If you have any belongings,” he said to the Tereskàdians, “I’d advise you to get them together.”

No one moved.

“Now,” he shouted.

A few Tereskàdians started to return to their homes, but Chandrha called them back. This human, this man in uniform, didn’t have the authority to tell them what to do.

“If you don’t do what I say,” he called, his voice as cold as the wind that had started up, “I will kill this female.” He glared at Chandrha.

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Jhevharel hiss-growled, started toward him, but Chandrha placed a paw on his neck. “All you have to do is attack me, General,” she said.

“I’m not that stupid,” he said. “Colonel Westwood may have been foolish, but I’m not in that category. When my men get here we’re going to burn down this village, and no one will ever know you’ve been here.”

Montelier emerged from the diner, weapon in his hand again. “General Wittenberg, the Prime Minister is in touch with the President, assessing him of the situation. If your men attempt to cross the border, the President will order the plane shot down.”

“You’re joking.” Wittenberg cast a biting glance at Chandrha. “And all because of some furry aliens.”

“Unlike you Americans,” Montelier said, “we don’t see every alien as someone who abducts or invades. These aliens have proven they are neither.”

“You’re bluffing.”

“He’s not bluffing,” Chandrha said.

“She’s telling the truth,” Montelier said. “If you know the Tereskàdians, you’d know they can tell when someone is lying.”

“The President would never do that,” Wittenberg said, but somehow the words didn’t ring true.

“Oh yes, he would,” Montelier said. “Your government had an agreement with my government after the aliens landed here. They both decided the best course of action was to leave the aliens up here, in northern Ontario. Now, as for your plane, so far it’s still in U.S. territory. The moment it enters Canadian airspace it will be given one warning and one warning only, to turn back into United States airspace. If it doesn’t, the President will send a fighter jet to intercept that plane. Another warning will be given, pilot to pilot. If your pilot refuses to acknowledge that warning, it will be shot down.”

“That’s murder,” Wittenberg protested.

“And what are you going to do with these Tereskàdians, General Wittenberg? I’m sure you won’t give them free reign at your facility. They’ll be hidden away, experimented on, tortured, dissected like lab animals... am I right?”

“No.”

“You’re lying,” Chandrha said.

He glared at the alien, wished she’d leave. He didn’t like the alien lie detector standing so close to him, spoiling his plans.

What plans? The RCMP sergeant was ruining everything, and this alien appeared to be everywhere.

“Of course we want to study these aliens,” he said. “What have you Canadians done? Nothing. You allow them to stay in your country, treat them like old friends, build a village for them...”

“At least we don’t hide them like you do. If they had landed in your country you would have cordoned off the area, and if anyone had seen anything they would have been threatened into silence. You saw nothing, you heard nothing, don’t say anything to anyone.”

“And that’s the way it should be done.”

“There’s something wrong if your plan is to eventually kill them.”

“Tell that to your alien friend there.” Wittenberg nodded at Chandrha.

“She’s different. Her thought processes are different. Her cub was in danger, what do you expect her to do?”

“Murder is murder. Unless you think there’s something special about these aliens.”

“Instead of trying to get them to the States, why don’t you learn something about them?”

Wittenberg snorted. “Cute foxes, that’s the way you Canadians think. I see them as dangerous aliens who might take over this planet.”

Montelier shook his head. “One hundred and sixty eight Tereskàdians, one hundred and sixty eight whistling dragons, are going to take over the world of how many people? Seven billion... eight billion? If you think that...” He held up his hand. “General Wittenberg, if you want your men to live,” Montelier said, “I suggest you contact them before the plane enters Canadian airspace.”

Wittenberg sighed. “I don’t have much choice, do I?”

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