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A Matter of Survival
A modern Spontoon Island story
© 2022 by Walter Reimer
Thumbnail art by
rabbi-tom
Two.
He went straight back to his room and took off his suit, hanging it up to keep it from wrinkling. There were drawbacks to traveling light, but fortunately he hadn’t spilled anything on it. Jasper switched on his tablet and opened a chat window as soon as the unit he’d plugged into the wall had confirmed that the connection was secure. It was still morning over on Spontoon, and soon he received an acknowledgement that his supervisor was online.
WJ: Contact made
XX: Problems?
WJ: Bad blood
XX: Old wounds. Leeches?
Jasper gave a slightly irritated snort. He’d just got here; were they already giving up?
WJ: Give me time.
XX: You know best. Meeting?
WJ: 1500 their place
XX: Advise afterward
And the connection was closed. He flicked his ears as he reread the message, then closed the chat window. A brief search gave him a route to the company’s offices, but after checking the local weather he decided to take a cab.
After a brief shower he got out his furbrushes, spruced himself up, and placed his tablet in a soft-sided briefcase along with a small sheaf of papers before getting out a necktie. Jasper didn’t like wearing anything around his neck, but this was a formal business meeting, and good first impressions were vital.
Especially when there were old wounds best left alone.
The offices were located in a building at the base of the east side of Telegraph Hill, with an understated brass plaque beside the entrance that read FAR EAST INVESTMENTS LLC.
A young beagle femme smiled at him as he stepped through the entrance. “Good afternoon! May I help you?”
The Shar Pei-wolf smiled back. “Good afternoon. My name’s Jasper Wu. I have a meeting at three.”
She glanced aside and down at her computer, and looked up. “Of course, sir. Please have a seat,” and she gestured at a pair of well-upholstered couches, “and I’ll let them know you’re here.”
“Thank you.” Wu went and sat down as she notified the furs inside that he was present.
He wasn’t kept waiting long. His ears flicked at a solid click just before the door behind the receptionist’s desk opened and Mr. Han stepped out. Jasper stood as the feline came forward and the two shook paws. “Right on time,” Han remarked with a grin.
His gaze lingered on Jasper’s tie for a moment, and the grin faltered only for a second. “Please follow me. They’re waiting for you.”
“Thank you.”
The door swung closed with a click, followed a fractional second later by the sound of a deadbolt. “Excellent security,” Jasper remarked.
“Yes,” Han said. “Never can be too careful these days.”
Wu merely nodded.
The two went past several office doors, all closed, and finally entered an elevator that deposited them on the third floor. “Will you be staying in San Francisco for very long?” the li hua mau asked.
The Shar Pei-wolf said, “It depends on this meeting, and what my supervisors have to say.” Han merely nodded as they stopped a pair of closed doors.
“Go right in, sir,” and Han stepped aside. Wu straightened up, took a breath, and opened the door.
As soon as the door was closed he bowed nearly double as the five old men at the far end of the room, clustered at one end of a long boardroom table, stopped talking among themselves. He straightened. “Wu Jasper, gentlemen,” he said.
One of the executives, a gray tabby feline, looked at Wu’s tie. It was silk, in a pattern made up of stripes and swatches of mutually clashing colors that drew the eye up to the knot.
The way it was knotted, and what the process did to the pattern . . .
“Greetings, Brother,” the feline said in gravelly Mandarin. “Come forward, and we shall talk.”
Jasper bowed again and walked to the table, bowing again when he reached the end. A wave of a paw from the feline, and Wu took a seat and took out his tablet and the sheaf of paperwork. “Thank you for allowing me to come to talk to you,” he said courteously.
A canine of no distinct breed seated directly facing him the length of the table smirked. “The request your superiors made was intriguing,” he said in English, “and we have been told what you said earlier today.” He leaned forward slightly. “Your company’s leaders wish us to simply lay aside years of bad blood and join with them again?”
Jasper said, “I am well aware of the dispute between you and my company, Sir. However, as I told Mr. Han earlier, current conditions are favorable for the two companies to join paws again.” The canine sat back, crossing his arms across his chest. “Further, those who made the decisions in 1989 and 1997 are no longer in a position of leadership.” The canine raised an eyebrow. “They have either retired, or have passed away.”
Gazes shifted to the oldest mel at the table, who sat huddled in a wheelchair. The red panda looked to be in his nineties, with most of his fur gone to gray or white. He had spent most of the conversation with his eyes closed as if he was dozing; now he blinked open rheumy eyes and said very softly, “They allied themselves with a Mafia family in Los Angeles, and when they no longer served their purpose, your superiors sold them to the FBI without a qualm.” He aimed his muzzle like a shotgun barrel and pointed it accusingly at Jasper.
Wu’s ears swiveled. “I heard about that, of course, when I was briefed before leaving Spontoon. Don Emmanuel Carpanini was a pedophile, and his organization had become worse than corrupt – it had become careless.” He switched to Mandarin. “Do you not also cast off barbarians when they serve their purpose?” he asked, and several sets of ears flicked.
He took a breath. “I apologize for my rudeness, sirs.”
The tension in the room broke as one feline at the far end of the table nodded. “There is no need to apologize, Mr. Wu, not for telling the truth. Let us see your company’s proposal, and we will let you know.”
“Thank you, Sir,” and Jasper took the sheaf of papers from his briefcase, stood and brought them to the feline.
“We will have Mr. Han contact you at your hotel when we are ready to respond to this,” the man said. He smiled. “Have you ever visited our city before?”
“No, Sir.”
“Relax then, and enjoy yourself.” The feline’s tail flicked in dismissal, and Jasper gathered up his briefcase and bowed before leaving the room.
Han escorted him back to the front lobby, and as they shook paws the li hua mau said, “I look forward to seeing you again.”
“So do I,” Wu said. The rain had stopped, so he stepped out to the street and hailed a passing cab.
***
WJ: Meeting concluded. Proposal submitted.
XX: Well done. Problem?
WJ: As expected.
XX: Thoughts?
WJ: Matter of trust.
XX: I see. Do your best.
He snorted as the text window closed. As if he wouldn’t do his best.
***
“This is the BBC World Service,” the friendly-looking beagle femme said in a carefully measured pleasant tone. She started reading the headlines as Jasper finished hanging up his suit and stretched out on the bed, relaxing and closing his eyes, letting the canine’s voice wash over him.
The U.S. President was giving an interview about an upcoming regional summit, and was fielding a question regarding a move by the Queen of Croix-Vert to create a political and economic bloc with the other Caribbean nations. The Kerry beagle deflected the question by wishing the otteress good luck, given the wide political and economic gaps between the various island nations.
Another news item made him open his eyes, ears flicking, as the newsreader related a joint statement made by the British King-Emperor and the German Kaiser regarding continued efforts to stem climate change. A native Spontoonie, Jasper was sensitive to the moves being made to curtail or slow the rise in sea levels.
No one, he reflected, outside of Spontoon was even thinking of asking Cranium Island for assistance with climate change. Probably afraid of the price the mad scientists might demand for their aid.
Or what creative methods they might employ.
Jasper glanced at the clock. Hmm, it would be just after noon over there right now . . . he rolled over, scooped up his phone, and hit the top button on his contacts list.
“Hi, Jasper,” came a strong alto voice, and he felt the hair in his ears stir. “About time you called.”
“Hi, Herenui,” he said to his wife, “and I’ve been in meetings ever since I checked in. I was just relaxing, and figured it’d be time to call you.” He paused. “Forgive me?”
The canine femme snorted. “Of course I forgive you, you silly boy – if you bring me back something from San Francisco.”
“What do you want?”
“Should I email you a list?”
“Sweetheart, there are such things as weight penalties – “
“Honey, there are such things as parcel companies,” his wife retorted. They both chuckled. “Bring back a bottle of wine, and we’ll drink it together over dinner when you get back, okeh?”
“Done.”
“So. Meetings.”
“Yeah.”
“What are you doing tonight?”
Jasper swallowed back a yawn and said, “I’m going to get a light supper, and go to bed. Remember, there’s a four hour difference between here and there, and even though I slept on the plane, I’ve still been up longer than you have.”
“Poor baby. I’ll let you go then. Take care, sweetheart.” The sound of a kiss. “Love you.”
“Love you too,” and he made the same kissing sound before the call ended.
<NEXT>
<PREVIOUS>
<FIRST>
A modern Spontoon Island story
© 2022 by Walter Reimer
Thumbnail art by
rabbi-tomTwo.
He went straight back to his room and took off his suit, hanging it up to keep it from wrinkling. There were drawbacks to traveling light, but fortunately he hadn’t spilled anything on it. Jasper switched on his tablet and opened a chat window as soon as the unit he’d plugged into the wall had confirmed that the connection was secure. It was still morning over on Spontoon, and soon he received an acknowledgement that his supervisor was online.
WJ: Contact made
XX: Problems?
WJ: Bad blood
XX: Old wounds. Leeches?
Jasper gave a slightly irritated snort. He’d just got here; were they already giving up?
WJ: Give me time.
XX: You know best. Meeting?
WJ: 1500 their place
XX: Advise afterward
And the connection was closed. He flicked his ears as he reread the message, then closed the chat window. A brief search gave him a route to the company’s offices, but after checking the local weather he decided to take a cab.
After a brief shower he got out his furbrushes, spruced himself up, and placed his tablet in a soft-sided briefcase along with a small sheaf of papers before getting out a necktie. Jasper didn’t like wearing anything around his neck, but this was a formal business meeting, and good first impressions were vital.
Especially when there were old wounds best left alone.
The offices were located in a building at the base of the east side of Telegraph Hill, with an understated brass plaque beside the entrance that read FAR EAST INVESTMENTS LLC.
A young beagle femme smiled at him as he stepped through the entrance. “Good afternoon! May I help you?”
The Shar Pei-wolf smiled back. “Good afternoon. My name’s Jasper Wu. I have a meeting at three.”
She glanced aside and down at her computer, and looked up. “Of course, sir. Please have a seat,” and she gestured at a pair of well-upholstered couches, “and I’ll let them know you’re here.”
“Thank you.” Wu went and sat down as she notified the furs inside that he was present.
He wasn’t kept waiting long. His ears flicked at a solid click just before the door behind the receptionist’s desk opened and Mr. Han stepped out. Jasper stood as the feline came forward and the two shook paws. “Right on time,” Han remarked with a grin.
His gaze lingered on Jasper’s tie for a moment, and the grin faltered only for a second. “Please follow me. They’re waiting for you.”
“Thank you.”
The door swung closed with a click, followed a fractional second later by the sound of a deadbolt. “Excellent security,” Jasper remarked.
“Yes,” Han said. “Never can be too careful these days.”
Wu merely nodded.
The two went past several office doors, all closed, and finally entered an elevator that deposited them on the third floor. “Will you be staying in San Francisco for very long?” the li hua mau asked.
The Shar Pei-wolf said, “It depends on this meeting, and what my supervisors have to say.” Han merely nodded as they stopped a pair of closed doors.
“Go right in, sir,” and Han stepped aside. Wu straightened up, took a breath, and opened the door.
As soon as the door was closed he bowed nearly double as the five old men at the far end of the room, clustered at one end of a long boardroom table, stopped talking among themselves. He straightened. “Wu Jasper, gentlemen,” he said.
One of the executives, a gray tabby feline, looked at Wu’s tie. It was silk, in a pattern made up of stripes and swatches of mutually clashing colors that drew the eye up to the knot.
The way it was knotted, and what the process did to the pattern . . .
“Greetings, Brother,” the feline said in gravelly Mandarin. “Come forward, and we shall talk.”
Jasper bowed again and walked to the table, bowing again when he reached the end. A wave of a paw from the feline, and Wu took a seat and took out his tablet and the sheaf of paperwork. “Thank you for allowing me to come to talk to you,” he said courteously.
A canine of no distinct breed seated directly facing him the length of the table smirked. “The request your superiors made was intriguing,” he said in English, “and we have been told what you said earlier today.” He leaned forward slightly. “Your company’s leaders wish us to simply lay aside years of bad blood and join with them again?”
Jasper said, “I am well aware of the dispute between you and my company, Sir. However, as I told Mr. Han earlier, current conditions are favorable for the two companies to join paws again.” The canine sat back, crossing his arms across his chest. “Further, those who made the decisions in 1989 and 1997 are no longer in a position of leadership.” The canine raised an eyebrow. “They have either retired, or have passed away.”
Gazes shifted to the oldest mel at the table, who sat huddled in a wheelchair. The red panda looked to be in his nineties, with most of his fur gone to gray or white. He had spent most of the conversation with his eyes closed as if he was dozing; now he blinked open rheumy eyes and said very softly, “They allied themselves with a Mafia family in Los Angeles, and when they no longer served their purpose, your superiors sold them to the FBI without a qualm.” He aimed his muzzle like a shotgun barrel and pointed it accusingly at Jasper.
Wu’s ears swiveled. “I heard about that, of course, when I was briefed before leaving Spontoon. Don Emmanuel Carpanini was a pedophile, and his organization had become worse than corrupt – it had become careless.” He switched to Mandarin. “Do you not also cast off barbarians when they serve their purpose?” he asked, and several sets of ears flicked.
He took a breath. “I apologize for my rudeness, sirs.”
The tension in the room broke as one feline at the far end of the table nodded. “There is no need to apologize, Mr. Wu, not for telling the truth. Let us see your company’s proposal, and we will let you know.”
“Thank you, Sir,” and Jasper took the sheaf of papers from his briefcase, stood and brought them to the feline.
“We will have Mr. Han contact you at your hotel when we are ready to respond to this,” the man said. He smiled. “Have you ever visited our city before?”
“No, Sir.”
“Relax then, and enjoy yourself.” The feline’s tail flicked in dismissal, and Jasper gathered up his briefcase and bowed before leaving the room.
Han escorted him back to the front lobby, and as they shook paws the li hua mau said, “I look forward to seeing you again.”
“So do I,” Wu said. The rain had stopped, so he stepped out to the street and hailed a passing cab.
***
WJ: Meeting concluded. Proposal submitted.
XX: Well done. Problem?
WJ: As expected.
XX: Thoughts?
WJ: Matter of trust.
XX: I see. Do your best.
He snorted as the text window closed. As if he wouldn’t do his best.
***
“This is the BBC World Service,” the friendly-looking beagle femme said in a carefully measured pleasant tone. She started reading the headlines as Jasper finished hanging up his suit and stretched out on the bed, relaxing and closing his eyes, letting the canine’s voice wash over him.
The U.S. President was giving an interview about an upcoming regional summit, and was fielding a question regarding a move by the Queen of Croix-Vert to create a political and economic bloc with the other Caribbean nations. The Kerry beagle deflected the question by wishing the otteress good luck, given the wide political and economic gaps between the various island nations.
Another news item made him open his eyes, ears flicking, as the newsreader related a joint statement made by the British King-Emperor and the German Kaiser regarding continued efforts to stem climate change. A native Spontoonie, Jasper was sensitive to the moves being made to curtail or slow the rise in sea levels.
No one, he reflected, outside of Spontoon was even thinking of asking Cranium Island for assistance with climate change. Probably afraid of the price the mad scientists might demand for their aid.
Or what creative methods they might employ.
Jasper glanced at the clock. Hmm, it would be just after noon over there right now . . . he rolled over, scooped up his phone, and hit the top button on his contacts list.
“Hi, Jasper,” came a strong alto voice, and he felt the hair in his ears stir. “About time you called.”
“Hi, Herenui,” he said to his wife, “and I’ve been in meetings ever since I checked in. I was just relaxing, and figured it’d be time to call you.” He paused. “Forgive me?”
The canine femme snorted. “Of course I forgive you, you silly boy – if you bring me back something from San Francisco.”
“What do you want?”
“Should I email you a list?”
“Sweetheart, there are such things as weight penalties – “
“Honey, there are such things as parcel companies,” his wife retorted. They both chuckled. “Bring back a bottle of wine, and we’ll drink it together over dinner when you get back, okeh?”
“Done.”
“So. Meetings.”
“Yeah.”
“What are you doing tonight?”
Jasper swallowed back a yawn and said, “I’m going to get a light supper, and go to bed. Remember, there’s a four hour difference between here and there, and even though I slept on the plane, I’ve still been up longer than you have.”
“Poor baby. I’ll let you go then. Take care, sweetheart.” The sound of a kiss. “Love you.”
“Love you too,” and he made the same kissing sound before the call ended.
<NEXT>
<PREVIOUS>
<FIRST>
Category Story / General Furry Art
Species Canine (Other)
Size 75 x 120px
File Size 52.9 kB
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