Chapter 19

"Dee-rah, sister? Steve and I leave for Canada, immediately. We must go to my people. They are in great need!"

"Sister-mine, is it safe? Is there any chance your aircraft could stop in the United States?" Dee'rah asked.

"None. We will fly the non-stop route from Auckland to Vancouver, in British Columbia. It is not far from there to Penticton, in the same province. There the survivors of my people are recovering from their ordeal."

"Survivors? Ordeal!?" Dee'rah nearly shouted.

"They were attacked while making the crossing into Canada," Marie explained. "Please, you do not want to hear of this. Steve wishes to speak with Michael. Is he available to come to the telephone?"

"Oh ... yes, of course. I grieve for your people, Marie. We must find some way to comfort the survivors!"

"Michael, there is a situation. One of the tribal council called Marie. It's horrible news. They lost seventeen people during the crossing into Canada yesterday morning, Mountain time zone. They've been granted asylum in Canada and the survivors are safe in Penticton. Some are being treated for shock. Mike, they lost two entire families!"

"How did it happen? Who attacked them?"

"It's complicated, but a regular Army lieutenant opened fire with an assault rifle. It was completely unauthorized and without warning. He was riding with a Washington National Guard helicopter and its crew. Basically, they blundered onto the line of Nez Percé vehicles just as they were crossing into Canada. I guess the pilot wanted to get a low and slow look at the situation. The lieutenant grabbed that moment to open fire. It was a perfect strafing run. He killed eight people riding in a canopy-covered pickup, and ruptured their gasoline tanks. It caught fire, trapped the following pickup, and it blew. It was horrible carnage, Mike. Marie is pretty shaken. We're leaving in a few hours to fly direct to Vancouver, B.C. and I'll rent a vehicle. We'll join her people in Penticton."

Mike stared at Dee'rah, hardly believing Steve's words. Her ashen face, the tears in her eyes, told him that she already knew of the tragedy.

"Steve, this takes everything to a different level. It was bad enough, the attacks against her people, and the false blame for the domestic terrorist killings near Spokane! Will they be safe, now?"

"We think so, but they will be a long time in Canada. We'll need to find a lot of resources to house and support them on a semi-permanent basis."

"No problem, Steve. We can tap all the resources we need. Can you tell me anything more about the attack? How was the National Guard involved? Is this something they did willingly, do you know? Were they under orders to shoot to kill?"

"I talked to the tribal councilman myself. There's a couple of facts you need to know, Mike. First, the regular helicopter crew disarmed the shooter, and threw him out! He fell pretty far ... several hundred feet. He's dead. Then the helicopter landed, and the pilot, an older man, he was in tears, Mike. The elder had to hold back some men. They wanted to tear the helicopter crew to pieces.

"The pilot was pretty shaken, the elder told me. He explained that the officer riding with him had attacked without warning. It caught them by surprise. He said it was all a mistake, not deliberate. While the pilot explained, his crew was doing what they could to help two burn victims who were still alive. He told them to complete their escape, and he offered to fly the victims to the nearest hospital.

"That's the story, in brief, Mike."

"Is there any way to know what happened to the pilot and his crew after that?" Steve asked.

"Not from our end, of course. But I'm hoping that you might have resources there. There must be a way with... ?"

"Open line, Steve. No more details. Maybe we can dream something up, though. Okay?"

"Excellent. We'll call you from Penticton when we have more to report. Be well, stay safe."

"Of course, Steve. Have a safe flight."

"Michael, the shuttle has monitored disturbing military communications from the region you requested. It appears that a serious confrontation is developing between the national forces and state authorities. We've printed the relevant portions for your review. Perhaps you can make more sense of this than I?" Jon'a-ren explained.

"Let's see ... oh, no! Those magnificent ... fools!"

Mike motioned Jon'a-ren to sit so he could explain.

"Okay, here's what I can piece together, and the rest is just filling in the pieces with guesswork. We have a serious confrontation shaping up, as you say.

"Actually, there are two confrontations! These messages indicate that the Federal forces searching for the escaped Nez Percé people found the area where they crossed the border. They also found local law enforcement and rescue people there, recovering the bodies and gathering evidence. It says here that the Sheriff is holding the body of an Army officer, the one that fell out of the helicopter. He refuses to release it. He claims authority under state law!

"The feds received orders to intercept and seize everything. And the Sheriff ... he's refusing to surrender any of it! It is ... damn! It's become an armed standoff! The report says the Sheriff has ordered his deputies to resist any attempt to seize them or their evidence! The federal people on the ground want further instructions. The two sides have lined up against each other and are waiting it out."

"All right, these other messages indicate that the Federal force still hasn't located the missing helicopter or its crew. Another message says they are getting no information from state guard headquarters on the coast. It seems to be more resistance from the state. They're refusing to cooperate. Let me see, here...

"We've got a big problem here, Jon'a-ren. The regular army and teams from Department of Homeland Security are ordered to search the national guard installation. They're to seize the helicopter crew if they can find them, and to arrest any guard personnel who interfere. This is ugly, Jon'a-ren. If one hot-head or fanatic fires a single shot!"

Michael paced the floor for a few moments, thinking. He had hoped to avoid any direct involvement in American affairs for himself, Dee'rah, or the Masi'shen contingent. But the seeds of civil chaos were taking root far too quickly under Stinson's insane administration. The threatened possibility of armed civil conflict between Stinson's federal forces and the state government was far too real.

"Jon'a-ren, please ask the shuttle crew to continue monitoring, and to expand their efforts when message threads lead to other areas. I must have printed copies of the messages immediately as they happen. This thing is moving too fast! This brushfire could set the whole nation ablaze, if we let it!

"I'm really troubled by this move to seize the guardsmen, the crew of that helicopter. It worries me on several levels. It is an unforgivable affront to the civilian authority of that state. It is a serious violation of those men's rights, and I'm afraid they will be used to advance Stinson's agenda.

"Father-mine, I fear that the President will order the death of that crew. It would remove their testimony of what actually caused the border attack, and they will be used as sacrificial scapegoats. They will be accused of being rogue state government forces, defying the national government. This is something Stinson could use to justify putting America under martial law!

"Father-mine, humor me. Call down the other shuttle. Have them stand by, and be ready for orders, please?"

General Mikelsen was both infuriated and worried. Gov. Sadie McConklin, on the other end of the secure telephone conversation, was simply infuriated. They were discussing options. Both had received Department of Homeland Security orders demanding that Fort Murray be opened for immediate search by federal forces. Both realized the eventual futility of trying to resist.

"I wish we had a better answer," Sadie told her long-time friend.

"Perhaps there is one," a new voice interrupted on the line. General Mikelsen dropped his phone like a live snake, stared at it, and then snatched it up again.

"Who is this? This is a secure line! How did you... ?"

"Buzz? Sir, this is Michael Hawthorne. We last saw each other in Iraq, during your last command there. I was one of your officers."

"HAWTHORNE? How the HELL did you... ?" the General almost shouted.

"Hawthorne?" the Governor exclaimed. "Aren't you supposed to be in Geneva? And how is it that are you on this line?" she asked.

"Please, both of you. I apologize for the intrusion, but there is no time. We can sort all of this out later. But we must act now, before it is too late. General, are your four helicopter crewmen still secure at your location?"

"Yes! No! Wait! Dammit, Hawthorne, how in the name of... ?"

"Please, General. Answer my question!"

"Yes! They are safe. But the Army and the Department of Homeland Security people are literally at the gates. We're holding them off. That's why I'm on the line here with the Governor. We have precious little hope of holding them outside much longer."

"Good. This will be much easier, then. General, Governor, I beg you to trust me. Put the four men in a vehicle and take them to a helipad, one that sits in a fairly large, clear area. Have another vehicle with a light bar, one of your MP vehicles, accompany it with the light bar flashing. Park both of them at the edge of the landing area. We'll need room, so please don't crowd us.

"Can you do it now in, say, ten minutes?"

"Yes, but what are your intentions, Hawthorne?"

"We're going to relieve you of the incriminating evidence. We'll take them to safe asylum where Stinson can't reach them. Is that acceptable?"

"Yes!" they both almost yelled, despite their bewilderment at this unexpected intrusion.

The Masi'shen shuttle de-cloaked above the landing pad and settled onto its extended support legs. There was no visible propulsion nor audible noise, nor any clue as to how it moved. It just popped into sight, extended its legs, and came to rest. Two figures were visible behind the front windshield.

General Mikelsen stared back, not believing what he saw. A dull, silver-gray vehicle at least thirty meters long, five high, and ten broad rested before him. A side door slid open, a ramp unfolded and touched the ground. Michael Hawthorne jogged down to greet the waiting General and his men.

"It is very good to see you again, Sir. I've always meant to say that it was my pleasure to serve under your command," Michael said.

"What happened to you? Are you still human?" he stammered, staring at Michael.