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More from Walt46
Listed in Folders
A Matter of Survival
A modern Spontoon Island story
© 2023 by Walter Reimer
Thumbnail art by
rockbaker
Fourteen.
“The Northern Capital?” the elderly canine echoed, a quaver in his voice. Scared, or merely age?
Han didn’t care, but it would be better if it were fear making the old man shake.
As soon as Han returned to his office, he asked for an immediate meeting. This was information that could not wait. The news that the red panda member of the triumvirate was visiting his doctor almost made the feline lose his temper, but the canine agreed to see him as soon as Han explained what he’d been told.
The other member of the group, the elderly feline, was still at home.
Han nodded. “If my informant is correct, Master, yes. I am taking steps to confirm it, but there have been reports that they are operating police stations out of their embassies in other countries. So it is a possibility.”
“Good, good,” the elder said, nodding jerkily as his tail shuddered. “Why would they do this?”
“Based on what I’ve heard, mainly to monitor political dissidents – “
The canine waved a paw irritably. “That is not what I meant.”
“I apologize, Honored Sir.” Han waited until the elder could frame his question more specifically.
“If they are at the back of this,” the canine said slowly, “what would they gain by driving a wedge between us and the Nis?”
Han grimaced. “I don’t know, Honored Sir, but if I may, I feel that we can no longer wait for Wu’s legal troubles to be resolved in their own time.”
“Eh?”
“I would like permission to contact the Nis directly, to discuss this news.”
“Hm.” The canine stroked his chin as he thought. “Permission granted, young Han.”
The li hua mau bowed in his seat. “Thank you, Honored Sir. And if the other two Honored Ones - ?”
“That is my concern,” the canine said. He nodded, and Han got up and left the room.
***
There was passenger and cargo service between Mildendo Island and the Tillamook Confederacy, although both were handled by smaller, private concerns rather than the larger global carriers. Most cargo flights would stop at an airport on the archipelago’s western coast, while passenger planes would stop briefly to refuel before going on to the Tillamookan capital of Tse-Whit-Sen or further east to Rain Island.
The customs officer examined the photo on the passport before looking up at the slightly portly fox. “Your connection is to Seathl, sir?”
“Yes,” the tod replied in English. He had an accent that the officer couldn’t quite place. But the passport was in order, and the fellow had come all the way from the South Sandwich Islands.
A paw stamped the relevant page. “Your gate is Number Twelve, sir. Good flying.”
“Thank you,” and Ni Lu gathered up his ticket and passport before heading for the small international terminal.
The fur dye and styling gel were always a little uncomfortable, but he was used to disguising himself when moving from place to place on business. Altering his scent was an equally simple manner.
It had been said that his great-grandfather had sometimes masqueraded as female, something that Lu had been unable to carry off convincingly since his voice changed. Still, various disguises and the trick of hiding in plain sight enabled him to travel widely, even in a modern age of biometrics and near-constant surveillance by security forces.
He took a seat in the airport’s small waiting room, unobtrusively making certain that his seat gave him a clear view of the doorway and the gate. The disguised red panda then took a book from his carry-on bag and began to wait for his connecting flight.
***
“Ni Jin-tao speaking.”
“Mr. Ni, my name is Han. I’m calling on behalf of Far East Investments, in San Francisco.”
Jin-tao’s ears perked. A quick glance at his desk phone – yes, the recorder was already running. “Yes, sir. How may I help you?”
“I was hoping that we might talk about the business arrangement that Jasper Wu had brought to us.” The feline’s voice had a slightly questioning inflection. “Have you heard anything about him?”
“I haven’t gotten an update from the CEO’s office yet,” by which he meant his cousin Xia, “but I’m told that his lawyers are working on the case.” He kept one paw on the phone, while the other began awkwardly typing a message on his computer. “Is there something wrong? You haven’t called me here in New Haven since this started.”
“I felt it best to explore additional avenues.”
That made some sense, unless . . . “I agree. This state of limbo must end, it’s bad for business.”
“Yes. And there is . . . another matter.”
“Oh?” Jin-tao’s banded tail twitched.
“There’s a possibility of a third player in the game.”
Jin-tao’s fingers slipped, interrupting his typing and causing him to backspace to erase the errors. “A third player, you say?”
“Yes, we are trying to verify that.”
“What are your suspicions? Americans?”
“We don’t think so. They would not move like this.”
“Hm. That would also exclude the Russians – ah.”
“Yes. You see why we are trying to verify this.”
Jin-tao was silent for a moment. The Neighbors, as Lu sometimes called them, had been asserting themselves for the past decade or so, but this seemed out of character.
Unless keeping the Nis and the American Tongs apart suited some purpose. “Can we still negotiate the arrangement? I know that your board agreed to it in principle.”
“In principle, yes, but the Board required Ni Xia to come personally to apologize before they’d sign anything.”
“If I know Xia, she won’t want to come until this is resolved.”
A sigh. “I had thought so. Still, we need to draw closer, in light of the information I have obtained.”
“Would that include us granting you concessions?”
“I would advise against that.”
So. Han was close to the actual center of power, but not part of it.
Hmm.
“I will talk to my cousin, Mr. Han. Thank you for telling me about this complication.”
The relief in Han’s voice was evident. “Thank you, Mr. Ni,” and the line went dead.
Jin-tao hung up the phone and attached the recording as a sound file to the email that he’d been typing. Once he’d completed typing his message, he sent it to Xia. She needed to know; withholding information would affect her calculations, as well as angering her.
And while there were limits to how Ni Xia might discipline an errant member of the Family, he didn’t want to see what those limits might be.
***
Spontoon, Tillamook, Rain Island and the Sea Bear Republic were members of a free trade pact very similar to the European Schengen economic zone. As long as you were a citizen of one or the other member countries, you could travel freely from one to the other. Ni Lu wasn’t a citizen of either of the four member states, but he had a valid passport.
Now out of his fur dye and with a new Rain Island passport, the red panda glanced at the notifications on his phone and smiled. A certain package had arrived at a certain business outside San Francisco, and would be held for him until he arrived to claim it. All completely legitimate.
The phone abruptly beeped and a text window opened.
Call me. Now.
One eyebrow rose slowly, and Lu accessed the phone and waited for the call to process.
“Lu?” Xia asked.
“It’s me, Cousin. What’s up?”
“Jin-tao got a call from San Francisco, the people Wu had been talking with.”
“Yes.”
“There might be a third player. The Neighbors.”
Lu sat up on the bed and pulled his banded tail into his lap. “They sure?”
“They’re trying to verify things. I’m calling to let you know.”
“Gotcha. Talk to you later,” and he closed the call, tapping the phone against his palm and thinking.
It was good that Xia had contacted him.
Because now the hunter might have some prey to hunt.
***
With tourist season over, the Spontoon Historical Society on Meeting Island was quiet. Not as quiet as a tomb, but as quiet as the church it used to be. Rome had deconsecrated Saint Anthony’s Church when the new church had been built on Eastern Island, and the Althing had taken over the building. It was now part museum and part archive.
Jillian Casey walked past the stained glass Cenotaph, the rabbit doe smiling quietly as she paused to study the four whitetail does depicted. Ancient history to some; family history to others. A small plaque explained the significance of the monument, and its importance as part of the Stagg Library.
Her cousin’s request had been an odd one, but Jill hadn’t had anything pressing. Besides, Frank was a nice guy.
Digging through the collected papers of the late Franklin Junius Stagg required a careful and securely-gloved paw to avoid damaging either ink or paper, and a keen eye to read the whitetail buck’s small, neat paw-writing. Fortunately, Jill hadn’t had to spend more time digging than in reading and collecting the information her cousin sought. Several people had, since Stagg’s death in 1960, spent time sorting what he’d left behind into several categories.
One of those categories concerned a family of red pandas based on Krupmark Island, and it was part of that archive that Stagg’s great-grandson had asked for.
Jillian had carefully scanned the relevant papers into a file that she appended to an email, and she sent it off to Frank. As she tucked the archive box back into its spot on the shelf, the rabbit started to chuckle to herself at the irony of it all.
Her great-grandmother had been her cousin’s great-grandfather’s secretary, back in the day.
<NEXT>
<PREVIOUS>
<FIRST>
A modern Spontoon Island story
© 2023 by Walter Reimer
Thumbnail art by
rockbakerFourteen.
“The Northern Capital?” the elderly canine echoed, a quaver in his voice. Scared, or merely age?
Han didn’t care, but it would be better if it were fear making the old man shake.
As soon as Han returned to his office, he asked for an immediate meeting. This was information that could not wait. The news that the red panda member of the triumvirate was visiting his doctor almost made the feline lose his temper, but the canine agreed to see him as soon as Han explained what he’d been told.
The other member of the group, the elderly feline, was still at home.
Han nodded. “If my informant is correct, Master, yes. I am taking steps to confirm it, but there have been reports that they are operating police stations out of their embassies in other countries. So it is a possibility.”
“Good, good,” the elder said, nodding jerkily as his tail shuddered. “Why would they do this?”
“Based on what I’ve heard, mainly to monitor political dissidents – “
The canine waved a paw irritably. “That is not what I meant.”
“I apologize, Honored Sir.” Han waited until the elder could frame his question more specifically.
“If they are at the back of this,” the canine said slowly, “what would they gain by driving a wedge between us and the Nis?”
Han grimaced. “I don’t know, Honored Sir, but if I may, I feel that we can no longer wait for Wu’s legal troubles to be resolved in their own time.”
“Eh?”
“I would like permission to contact the Nis directly, to discuss this news.”
“Hm.” The canine stroked his chin as he thought. “Permission granted, young Han.”
The li hua mau bowed in his seat. “Thank you, Honored Sir. And if the other two Honored Ones - ?”
“That is my concern,” the canine said. He nodded, and Han got up and left the room.
***
There was passenger and cargo service between Mildendo Island and the Tillamook Confederacy, although both were handled by smaller, private concerns rather than the larger global carriers. Most cargo flights would stop at an airport on the archipelago’s western coast, while passenger planes would stop briefly to refuel before going on to the Tillamookan capital of Tse-Whit-Sen or further east to Rain Island.
The customs officer examined the photo on the passport before looking up at the slightly portly fox. “Your connection is to Seathl, sir?”
“Yes,” the tod replied in English. He had an accent that the officer couldn’t quite place. But the passport was in order, and the fellow had come all the way from the South Sandwich Islands.
A paw stamped the relevant page. “Your gate is Number Twelve, sir. Good flying.”
“Thank you,” and Ni Lu gathered up his ticket and passport before heading for the small international terminal.
The fur dye and styling gel were always a little uncomfortable, but he was used to disguising himself when moving from place to place on business. Altering his scent was an equally simple manner.
It had been said that his great-grandfather had sometimes masqueraded as female, something that Lu had been unable to carry off convincingly since his voice changed. Still, various disguises and the trick of hiding in plain sight enabled him to travel widely, even in a modern age of biometrics and near-constant surveillance by security forces.
He took a seat in the airport’s small waiting room, unobtrusively making certain that his seat gave him a clear view of the doorway and the gate. The disguised red panda then took a book from his carry-on bag and began to wait for his connecting flight.
***
“Ni Jin-tao speaking.”
“Mr. Ni, my name is Han. I’m calling on behalf of Far East Investments, in San Francisco.”
Jin-tao’s ears perked. A quick glance at his desk phone – yes, the recorder was already running. “Yes, sir. How may I help you?”
“I was hoping that we might talk about the business arrangement that Jasper Wu had brought to us.” The feline’s voice had a slightly questioning inflection. “Have you heard anything about him?”
“I haven’t gotten an update from the CEO’s office yet,” by which he meant his cousin Xia, “but I’m told that his lawyers are working on the case.” He kept one paw on the phone, while the other began awkwardly typing a message on his computer. “Is there something wrong? You haven’t called me here in New Haven since this started.”
“I felt it best to explore additional avenues.”
That made some sense, unless . . . “I agree. This state of limbo must end, it’s bad for business.”
“Yes. And there is . . . another matter.”
“Oh?” Jin-tao’s banded tail twitched.
“There’s a possibility of a third player in the game.”
Jin-tao’s fingers slipped, interrupting his typing and causing him to backspace to erase the errors. “A third player, you say?”
“Yes, we are trying to verify that.”
“What are your suspicions? Americans?”
“We don’t think so. They would not move like this.”
“Hm. That would also exclude the Russians – ah.”
“Yes. You see why we are trying to verify this.”
Jin-tao was silent for a moment. The Neighbors, as Lu sometimes called them, had been asserting themselves for the past decade or so, but this seemed out of character.
Unless keeping the Nis and the American Tongs apart suited some purpose. “Can we still negotiate the arrangement? I know that your board agreed to it in principle.”
“In principle, yes, but the Board required Ni Xia to come personally to apologize before they’d sign anything.”
“If I know Xia, she won’t want to come until this is resolved.”
A sigh. “I had thought so. Still, we need to draw closer, in light of the information I have obtained.”
“Would that include us granting you concessions?”
“I would advise against that.”
So. Han was close to the actual center of power, but not part of it.
Hmm.
“I will talk to my cousin, Mr. Han. Thank you for telling me about this complication.”
The relief in Han’s voice was evident. “Thank you, Mr. Ni,” and the line went dead.
Jin-tao hung up the phone and attached the recording as a sound file to the email that he’d been typing. Once he’d completed typing his message, he sent it to Xia. She needed to know; withholding information would affect her calculations, as well as angering her.
And while there were limits to how Ni Xia might discipline an errant member of the Family, he didn’t want to see what those limits might be.
***
Spontoon, Tillamook, Rain Island and the Sea Bear Republic were members of a free trade pact very similar to the European Schengen economic zone. As long as you were a citizen of one or the other member countries, you could travel freely from one to the other. Ni Lu wasn’t a citizen of either of the four member states, but he had a valid passport.
Now out of his fur dye and with a new Rain Island passport, the red panda glanced at the notifications on his phone and smiled. A certain package had arrived at a certain business outside San Francisco, and would be held for him until he arrived to claim it. All completely legitimate.
The phone abruptly beeped and a text window opened.
Call me. Now.
One eyebrow rose slowly, and Lu accessed the phone and waited for the call to process.
“Lu?” Xia asked.
“It’s me, Cousin. What’s up?”
“Jin-tao got a call from San Francisco, the people Wu had been talking with.”
“Yes.”
“There might be a third player. The Neighbors.”
Lu sat up on the bed and pulled his banded tail into his lap. “They sure?”
“They’re trying to verify things. I’m calling to let you know.”
“Gotcha. Talk to you later,” and he closed the call, tapping the phone against his palm and thinking.
It was good that Xia had contacted him.
Because now the hunter might have some prey to hunt.
***
With tourist season over, the Spontoon Historical Society on Meeting Island was quiet. Not as quiet as a tomb, but as quiet as the church it used to be. Rome had deconsecrated Saint Anthony’s Church when the new church had been built on Eastern Island, and the Althing had taken over the building. It was now part museum and part archive.
Jillian Casey walked past the stained glass Cenotaph, the rabbit doe smiling quietly as she paused to study the four whitetail does depicted. Ancient history to some; family history to others. A small plaque explained the significance of the monument, and its importance as part of the Stagg Library.
Her cousin’s request had been an odd one, but Jill hadn’t had anything pressing. Besides, Frank was a nice guy.
Digging through the collected papers of the late Franklin Junius Stagg required a careful and securely-gloved paw to avoid damaging either ink or paper, and a keen eye to read the whitetail buck’s small, neat paw-writing. Fortunately, Jill hadn’t had to spend more time digging than in reading and collecting the information her cousin sought. Several people had, since Stagg’s death in 1960, spent time sorting what he’d left behind into several categories.
One of those categories concerned a family of red pandas based on Krupmark Island, and it was part of that archive that Stagg’s great-grandson had asked for.
Jillian had carefully scanned the relevant papers into a file that she appended to an email, and she sent it off to Frank. As she tucked the archive box back into its spot on the shelf, the rabbit started to chuckle to herself at the irony of it all.
Her great-grandmother had been her cousin’s great-grandfather’s secretary, back in the day.
<NEXT>
<PREVIOUS>
<FIRST>
Category Story / General Furry Art
Species Red Panda
Size 87 x 120px
File Size 47.9 kB
Listed in Folders
You have my attention. with the Tillamook Confederacy, you are talking what was Oregon. I love their product still and While I am not in Oregon anymore, (Olympia now) I love references to the area.
this is my first reading of this story. please tell me more of how you are using Tillamook.
this is my first reading of this story. please tell me more of how you are using Tillamook.
Tillamook is the archipelago shown on this map of the Northern Pacific: http://spontoon.rootoon.com/SPwMap/Pacif10.gif
The Sea Bear Republic is defined as the IRL state of Oregon (capital Tilikum), with a chunk of northern California and a slice of southern Washington.
The Sea Bear Republic is defined as the IRL state of Oregon (capital Tilikum), with a chunk of northern California and a slice of southern Washington.
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