A Matter of Survival
A modern Spontoon Island story
© 2023 by Walter Reimer

Thumbnail art by  rockbaker

Eighteen.



Aha.

Ni Lu moved one piece on his side of the Go board, while keeping an eye on the water deer. The cervine, dressed in a suit, had left the consulate and was walking down the street past where the red panda was playing. He might have been in mufti, but his posture and attitude screamed ‘military.’

Lu had been here about a day, so this person might not know anything. If nothing else, though, he’d be a place to start.

He looked at the board, and up at the grinning face of his opponent.

“I lose again,” the red panda said with a self-effacing shrug. “How much were the stakes?”

While he gave the older mel a few dollars, the red panda was already thinking of his next steps. He’d have to tread carefully.

But it was pleasant weather, and he didn’t mind losing a wager here and there.


***


“Why?” Stagg finally managed to ask.

Wu shrugged. “I have no idea – honestly!” he yelped as the hybrid growled. “I can guess, though.”

“I’m listening.”

The Shar Pei-wolf sat on the edge of his bed, and Stagg backed away a step and leaned against the wall. After a few moments Wu said, “This is just a guess, mind you, but I think that one reason could be that the Neighbors – “

“’The Neighbors?’ Ah. Okay, go on.”

“My guess is that they don’t want the Nis resuming contact with firms here in the United States, because the family resists being controlled or manipulated by them. They can’t control Far East Investments because they’re based here in America.”

“But don’t they do business in China?”

“Through Macau and Hong Kong, yes,” and Wu tapped the side of his muzzle. Stagg nodded, and the canine said, “Along with other places. Golden Advent does much the same.”

Stagg recalled that some of his great-grandfather’s notes had been sealed by the Spontoon Althing after his death and were still classified more than six decades later. The implication was that Great-Granddad had gone to his grave knowing certain things about Spontoon.

And that the Spontoonies had decided not to have him meet with a “swimming accident.”

“Like Krupmark?” Stagg asked.

“I neither confirm nor deny,” Wu replied.

Stagg’s tail switched back and forth and he felt his claws peek out of their sheathes. He suddenly reached up and pinched the bridge of his nose between his eyebrows. “All right,” he muttered. “We can go around and around on this, but it’s not my job. My job was to help get you out of trouble, and I’ve done that. I leave tomorrow morning.”

Wu nodded. “I’ll be leaving soon too.”

“Oh?”

“Yes. As soon as I sign the contract, I’m on the next plane to Spontoon.” The canine smiled ruefully. “I’m afraid this place has given me a poor first impression.”

Stagg found himself mirroring the smile. “Yes, I imagine so.” The buck turned to go and paused, one paw on the doorknob. “Gods be with you, Mr. Wu.”

“Safe journey home, Mr. Stagg.”


***


The next day, Wu looked down at the contract in front of him. Mr. Han sat across the conference table from him, with the three elderly furs who ran Far East Investments seated at one end. The far end of the table bore a large flat-screen television.

Ni Xia’s image was on the screen, a view of Spontoon Eastern Island in the background. The red panda femme was smiling.

Jasper Wu cleared his throat. “Honored Sirs,” he said to the elderly triumvirate, “and Honored Lady,” with a deferential nod to Xia, “does the contract meet with your approval?”

The old canine quirked a brow at the television screen.

Ni Xia sat up straight and placed her paws flat on the desk. “On behalf of my clan, I humbly offer apologies, Honored Sirs, for the actions of my forebears in severing our ties with you.”

The hound sat there for a long moment, gazing at the video pickup.

Xia met his gaze over her streaming connection.

The hound turned to look at the li hua mau and nodded once.

Mr. Han smiled as Wu signed for Golden Dawn Investments, and the feline then added his signature to the document before reaching across the table to shake paws with his canine opposite number.

At either end of the table, furs smiled in approval.


***


Frank Stagg leaned back in his seat as the airliner circled, climbing to its cruising altitude, and the hybrid glanced out the window and looked down at the Pacific coast.

He was headed home. Back to his family, back to his practice, and back to the familiar.

But he felt that he had one piece of unfinished business waiting for him on Spontoon.


***


The water deer stirred.

“Good, you’re awake,” a voice said in accentless Mandarin, and a paw gently stroked the side of the cervine’s face. “I have questions, and you have answers. Fair trade, eh?”

The water deer jerked away from the paw, and discovered that he couldn’t move. A few spasmodic jerks, and the feeling of fur being pulled, told him that he’d been duct-taped to a chair, as well as blindfolded. He sniffed, but all he could smell was raccoon-scent.

He started to demand that he be released, only to cry out and writhe against the chair as a single finger ground against a knot of nerves.

“You’re in no position to demand,” the voice whispered in his ear. “You are here to answer questions – and I know your training; how to resist interrogation.” The water deer could almost feel the raccoon’s grin. “I know how to get around that.” The muzzle withdrew.

A pause, a rustling sound, and the deer tried to shy away as a rubber mask was placed on his face and strapped tightly to his head. His breathing quickened as he heard his breath whistling down a long tube.

A paw covered the end of the tube.

The mask sucked hard against his face as he inhaled one final breath, one that wasn’t enough to fill his lungs. His heart hammered in his chest, pounding out seconds as his lungs began to burn. He exhaled, only to find no air to bring in.

The water deer contorted, trying to free himself and failing.

The roaring in his ears grew louder –

- And the paw covering the hose withdrew, leaving the buck gasping.

The muzzle came to his ear again. “Now, I have questions.”

And the questions began, punctuated at times by manipulation of various nerves and only a few times by shutting off the buck’s air supply. It was a tactic called The Elephant, from the length of tubing connected to the front of the mask, and Lu had learned about it from certain people that his uncle had introduced to him.

It took most of the night, but the red panda was persistent, and eventually the water deer’s resistance collapsed.

Ni Lu wasn’t his great-grandfather. True, he was going to use this cervine as a message to The Neighbors, but he wasn’t going to damage him.

Well, at least not irreparably.


***


“Mrs. Ni?”

Xia looked away from her computer and touched her desk intercom. “Yes?”

“Mr. Frank Stagg, to see you.”

Ah.

“Send him in, please,” and she minimized the windows on her monitor screen as the hybrid buck walked in. “Mr. Stagg,” she said, gesturing to him to take a seat.

“Mrs. Ni,” Stagg said as he sat down. “My firm will be sending your office an invoice for my services, but I wanted to talk with you before I end our business.”

Xia sat forward, her paws on the desk. “Go on, please.”

Stagg glanced down at the floor between his hooves for a moment before meeting her gaze. “Before I left San Francisco, Mr. Wu and I had a chat. This was after a pair of youths tried to assault me.”

“You’re not accusing – “

“No, I’m not,” he said flatly. “There was no advantage in it for you.” Her ears twitched. “From what my great-grandfather left in his records, that appears to be a hallmark of your family, isn’t it? You try to gain the most advantageous position.”

“Doesn’t everyone in business?” Xia shot back. “Ask Damon Trask, or the Dolton Family.”

Stagg’s muzzle quirked in a half-smile. “Point taken. But with this case, you might have someone too big for you to gain an advantage over.” Xia frowned, and he added, “Wu told me – in confidence – that there might have been a third party trying to keep you and Far East Investments from becoming partners. If so, they’ve failed.”

“They have failed, yes,” Xia said. “The contract was signed yesterday. Since you touched on the subject of the Lawgiver-Who-Limps,” she said, switching briefly to Spontoonie before returning to English, “allow me to draw on my own family’s history, and tell you this: Apart from open warfare, there are very few things nastier than business. It’s not just a matter of competition, or gaining an advantage. In a very real sense, it’s a matter of survival. My family learned that, back then.”

“On Krupmark.”

“A very hard school, by all accounts,” the red panda femme conceded, “but we’ve learned. And we will never allow others to gain an advantage over us.” She smiled coldly. “Was that all, Mr. Stagg?”

“Yes, I suppose it is,” Stagg got to his hooves and extended a paw. “Good luck, Mrs. Ni.”

Xia smiled and took the paw. “Thank you for your assistance, Mr. Stagg.” He turned and walked out.

Aware of her staring at his back.


***


Ni Lu whistled cheerfully after saying goodbye to his niece and guiding his Fjord Cub onto the interstate, headed south to Los Angeles. The red panda was in a jolly mood, as he usually was after a job well done.

The water deer had been wrung dry of information, and after being anesthetized had been released. Lu had dumped him in an alley near the Catstro District before calling the police to report a vagrant. The man would eventually find his way back to his nation’s consulate, and his superiors would likely draw the appropriate conclusions.

The Cub’s radio started playing some classic rock, and Lu grinned as he kept to the speed limit.




And END.




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