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© 2021 by Walter Reimer
Anulka-Mei Balakrishnan was trying to sleep.
The standard Terran day was twenty-four hours, and had been for millennia, but the equivalent day on Gwath ka-shlal was just a shade over forty-one hours. She had had a great deal of difficulty adjusting to the schedule when she’d arrived on the Imperial homeworld over a decade earlier and shifting back to a Terran day-night cycle was giving her some issues.
The Dhole-Akita femme blinked awake and bleared at the small flashing yellow light on her bedside table. That, accompanied by a soft chime and a steady tattoo against the closed door to her quarters aboard the station, finally succeeded in waking her fully. Grumbling something rude in Kashlanin, Balakrishnan got out of bed, pulled on a robe, and made her way to the door. “Yes, what - ?” the door opened as she neared it, and she blinked.
“My apologies for disturbing you, Balakrishnan-jih,” Commander Garza said. The ocelot had two security officers standing slightly behind him. “May I come in? I’m afraid that I have bad news.”
She stood there, paws clutching her robe closed as his words sank in. “B-Bad news? Come in, come in,” and she turned away from the door and took a seat as Garza stepped in. The two officers stayed outside.
The ocelot waited politely as the canine rubbed sleep from her eyes and shook her head, causing her ears to flap slightly. “What’s happened, Commander?” she finally asked.
“I regret to inform you that your Embassy’s Political Officer,” and Garza studied her intently, “has died.”
“Snnrk.” The canine’s face ran a short gamut of emotions, from surprise to . . . satisfaction? as she snorted. “I will have to inform the Foreign Ministry,” she said almost absently, “and ask for a new staff. The Military Attache and Political Officer were the only two to accompany me here after the Embassy on Gwath ka-shlal was closed. And now they’re both gone.” She sighed.
“Very well, Ma’am.” Garza stood up. “The Colonial Government’s advised me that their envoy will be here in two days. While we wait for Terra to respond to the news and your request, may I offer some of my own staff to assist you in the negotiations?”
“Hm? What? Oh, ah, yes, that’s very generous of you, Commander,” Balakrishnan said. “They would have paws-on experience with things. I’ll want to talk to them first.”
“Of course. Again, I’m sorry to tell you this, Ambassador.”
“Thank you, Commander.”
The ocelot looked at her again as the canine seemed to gaze fixedly at the floor in front of her feet, slightly huddled in her robe. “Shall I send for a priest or grief counselor?”
“No, thank you.”
He shrugged and left, and the door closed.
Anulka-Mei Balakrishnan’s shoulders began to shake. Part of it was the realization that she was now quite alone, and the greater part of it was that she was cut off from Terra with the knowledge that the one fur trying to undermine or kill her was dead.
The shaking stopped as she tipped her head back and started laughing, the laughter gaining a slightly hysterical edge to it as she got up and went to the whisky decanter across the room. She chuckled as she poured herself a drink and giggled before taking a long pull at the liquor.
So, she was alone now. It was a curiously liberating feeling; no one looking over her shoulder (she hoped), and able to interpret her orders as she saw fit.
An almost feral grin twisted her muzzle as she drank the remainder of the Markellan whisky and headed back to bed.
She had no trouble falling back asleep.
***
AAA PRIORITY AAA
MESSAGE BEGINS
EMB DWNTIMSTAT TO FORMIN TERRA SOL
REGRET INFORM YOU EMB POLOFFICER DEAD IN ACCIDENTAL FALL. PLEASE NOTIFY NEXT OF KIN. REQUEST ASSIGNMENT OF FULL EMBASSY STAFF TO THIS POST FOR PENDING NEGOTIATIONS WITH COLONIAL ENVOY ARRIVING IN TWO DAYS. IN INTERIM DWNTIMSTAT COMMAND OFFERS ACTING STAFF TO ASSIST ME.
BALAKRISHNAN
MESSAGE ENDS.
***
‘M’ scowled.
***
Two days later, a Colonial destroyer approached the station, and waited at a discreet distance while its credentials were verified. When it was approved, two Kashlanin ships escorted the vessel to its dock.
“Fair day, Ma’am,” and the ocelot smiled as he saluted. “Welcome to Downtime Station.”
Her whiskers semaphored.
His whiskers moved in reply.
Chang Lin smiled, making an obvious effort not to return the salute. Old habits died very hard, and it made the otteress look like she’d acquired a nervous tic. “Fair day, Commander, and thank you. Where’s Ambassador Balakrishnan?” she asked as the pair headed down the corridor, trailed by her six-person staff.
“Terra hasn’t yet responded to her request for new Embassy staff,” Garza said. “She’s accepted a number of advisers from my own staff, and she’s in conference with them now, to make sure that they’re all familiar with the Confed’s position.” Chang snorted, and he added, “Yes, I’ve seen their message to her. It’s like they think they’ve won.”
“I don’t doubt she shares their view,” Chang said.
The ocelot’s tail gestured in a shrug. “You might be surprised. She’s had a pretty strong number of knocks since ending up stranded here after the war started.” His padd suddenly warbled a feral bird’s song. “Excuse me,” and he fell out of line as he took the call, returning to the otteress’ side. “Message from Ambassador k’Ven.”
Chang’s small ears flicked at mention of her Kashlanin counterpart. “Yes?”
“She’d like to meet with you at Joe’s. Just to get acquainted before you two sit down with Balakrishnan.”
“’Joe’s?’ What’s that?”
Garza smiled. “A restaurant, here on the Terran side, near the forest. I think you’ll like it.”
© 2021 by Walter Reimer
Anulka-Mei Balakrishnan was trying to sleep.
The standard Terran day was twenty-four hours, and had been for millennia, but the equivalent day on Gwath ka-shlal was just a shade over forty-one hours. She had had a great deal of difficulty adjusting to the schedule when she’d arrived on the Imperial homeworld over a decade earlier and shifting back to a Terran day-night cycle was giving her some issues.
The Dhole-Akita femme blinked awake and bleared at the small flashing yellow light on her bedside table. That, accompanied by a soft chime and a steady tattoo against the closed door to her quarters aboard the station, finally succeeded in waking her fully. Grumbling something rude in Kashlanin, Balakrishnan got out of bed, pulled on a robe, and made her way to the door. “Yes, what - ?” the door opened as she neared it, and she blinked.
“My apologies for disturbing you, Balakrishnan-jih,” Commander Garza said. The ocelot had two security officers standing slightly behind him. “May I come in? I’m afraid that I have bad news.”
She stood there, paws clutching her robe closed as his words sank in. “B-Bad news? Come in, come in,” and she turned away from the door and took a seat as Garza stepped in. The two officers stayed outside.
The ocelot waited politely as the canine rubbed sleep from her eyes and shook her head, causing her ears to flap slightly. “What’s happened, Commander?” she finally asked.
“I regret to inform you that your Embassy’s Political Officer,” and Garza studied her intently, “has died.”
“Snnrk.” The canine’s face ran a short gamut of emotions, from surprise to . . . satisfaction? as she snorted. “I will have to inform the Foreign Ministry,” she said almost absently, “and ask for a new staff. The Military Attache and Political Officer were the only two to accompany me here after the Embassy on Gwath ka-shlal was closed. And now they’re both gone.” She sighed.
“Very well, Ma’am.” Garza stood up. “The Colonial Government’s advised me that their envoy will be here in two days. While we wait for Terra to respond to the news and your request, may I offer some of my own staff to assist you in the negotiations?”
“Hm? What? Oh, ah, yes, that’s very generous of you, Commander,” Balakrishnan said. “They would have paws-on experience with things. I’ll want to talk to them first.”
“Of course. Again, I’m sorry to tell you this, Ambassador.”
“Thank you, Commander.”
The ocelot looked at her again as the canine seemed to gaze fixedly at the floor in front of her feet, slightly huddled in her robe. “Shall I send for a priest or grief counselor?”
“No, thank you.”
He shrugged and left, and the door closed.
Anulka-Mei Balakrishnan’s shoulders began to shake. Part of it was the realization that she was now quite alone, and the greater part of it was that she was cut off from Terra with the knowledge that the one fur trying to undermine or kill her was dead.
The shaking stopped as she tipped her head back and started laughing, the laughter gaining a slightly hysterical edge to it as she got up and went to the whisky decanter across the room. She chuckled as she poured herself a drink and giggled before taking a long pull at the liquor.
So, she was alone now. It was a curiously liberating feeling; no one looking over her shoulder (she hoped), and able to interpret her orders as she saw fit.
An almost feral grin twisted her muzzle as she drank the remainder of the Markellan whisky and headed back to bed.
She had no trouble falling back asleep.
***
AAA PRIORITY AAA
MESSAGE BEGINS
EMB DWNTIMSTAT TO FORMIN TERRA SOL
REGRET INFORM YOU EMB POLOFFICER DEAD IN ACCIDENTAL FALL. PLEASE NOTIFY NEXT OF KIN. REQUEST ASSIGNMENT OF FULL EMBASSY STAFF TO THIS POST FOR PENDING NEGOTIATIONS WITH COLONIAL ENVOY ARRIVING IN TWO DAYS. IN INTERIM DWNTIMSTAT COMMAND OFFERS ACTING STAFF TO ASSIST ME.
BALAKRISHNAN
MESSAGE ENDS.
***
‘M’ scowled.
***
Two days later, a Colonial destroyer approached the station, and waited at a discreet distance while its credentials were verified. When it was approved, two Kashlanin ships escorted the vessel to its dock.
“Fair day, Ma’am,” and the ocelot smiled as he saluted. “Welcome to Downtime Station.”
Her whiskers semaphored.
His whiskers moved in reply.
Chang Lin smiled, making an obvious effort not to return the salute. Old habits died very hard, and it made the otteress look like she’d acquired a nervous tic. “Fair day, Commander, and thank you. Where’s Ambassador Balakrishnan?” she asked as the pair headed down the corridor, trailed by her six-person staff.
“Terra hasn’t yet responded to her request for new Embassy staff,” Garza said. “She’s accepted a number of advisers from my own staff, and she’s in conference with them now, to make sure that they’re all familiar with the Confed’s position.” Chang snorted, and he added, “Yes, I’ve seen their message to her. It’s like they think they’ve won.”
“I don’t doubt she shares their view,” Chang said.
The ocelot’s tail gestured in a shrug. “You might be surprised. She’s had a pretty strong number of knocks since ending up stranded here after the war started.” His padd suddenly warbled a feral bird’s song. “Excuse me,” and he fell out of line as he took the call, returning to the otteress’ side. “Message from Ambassador k’Ven.”
Chang’s small ears flicked at mention of her Kashlanin counterpart. “Yes?”
“She’d like to meet with you at Joe’s. Just to get acquainted before you two sit down with Balakrishnan.”
“’Joe’s?’ What’s that?”
Garza smiled. “A restaurant, here on the Terran side, near the forest. I think you’ll like it.”
Category Story / General Furry Art
Species Ocelot
Size 120 x 77px
File Size 49.9 kB
Listed in Folders
Inappropriate comparison, but I'll go ahead and make it anyway:
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=_TlF7iUsyRQ
(Also, I'll stick my neck and brow out and say I like it aside from the bleep. In general and on an audio level, I find censorship lots more offensive than the source material.)
altered:
"He fell down the stairs."
"Damn it -- that's what they all say!"
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=_TlF7iUsyRQ
(Also, I'll stick my neck and brow out and say I like it aside from the bleep. In general and on an audio level, I find censorship lots more offensive than the source material.)
altered:
"He fell down the stairs."
"Damn it -- that's what they all say!"
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