“Well,” intoned President Bush in his Texas drawl, “now that Chreti…. Cretin… err… hell, whatever his name was, is outta office, maybe we can get the Canadians to fall in line with are foreign policy. I dunno why Blair duddin’ jes’ tell these guys ta tow the line.” Bush put down the paper, and went for his morning jog, pleased with himself for his diplomatic pressure to remove Chretien.


     General Sharkey was answering the summons to Prime Minister d’Gorthar’s office.
“Mr. Prime Minister.”
“Ah… General Sharkey, yes. I want you to start working up offensive and defensive tactics in case of unprovoked aggression on our southern border. Our neighbor to the south has shown that he’s not averse to throwing the first punch. I don’t want to be caught unaware, should that happen, here.”
“Yes, Mr. Prime Minister.”
“Oh… And General Sharkey, I believe it is time to recall, and prepare for Project Coldwalk, including…” d’Gorthar slid a CD jewel case across his desk, “the contents of this disc. I will assume that you will put the right people on the job.”
“Of course, Mr. Prime Minister, I’ll have a team of specialists on it, within the week.”
“Very good, General, you’re dismissed.”