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Crash Landings The diary of Amelia Bourne-Phipps, as edited by Simon Barber (Being the twenty-fifth chapter of Amelia’s adventures at the Songmark Aeronautical Boarding School for Young Ladies, on Spontoon’s Eastern Island. Amelia and her year are due to start their final exams, one way or another …) Saturday May 22nd, 1937 Dear Diary: the only good thing I can write about today is that we are not being marked on predicting the future – I would have let my dorm-mates down very badly. Just yesterday I was saying we had got away with our potentially dangerous Albert Island trip without any of the trouble and hardships Saimmi had seen for me in her fires coming true. All started as a normal Saturday, with us planning our day on Casino Island and looking forwards to some relaxation after the strains of being hunted across Albert Island. A fine sunny day in friendly company with a good lunch at the Missing Coconut was just what would set us up well for the rigours of our upcoming final exams. Just after breakfast I was told there was someone wanting to meet me at the gate, and indeed we had been told there had been folk asking after us when we were away. I thought at worst it might be Missy Aha or some other keen local journalist sniffing round dissatisfied with the court verdict of “fursons unknown” saving Judge Poynter, and hunting down possibilities as to other felines known to have been in the area. I had been prepared for that. I had half a dozen ways of covering that problem should it have cropped up, and indeed while we were lying low in out thorny walled bunker on Albert Island I talked it over at length with Helen, Molly and Maria. I had an awful shock. Two vulpine girls rather younger than us were waiting at the gate, with tear-stained fur and looking awfully upset. I recognised them at once though of all the furs I have ever met they were the least likely I ever expected to see again – from the lost plantation on the Aleutians, Lucy and Emily Pennington! I invited them to Song Sodas which was just opening up when we got there, and over an ice-cream soda heard what had happened to them – and where their older and youngest sisters had got to. Oh my. It seems that the worst has befallen the Pennington family. All was looking up for a few months after we left, with a boom in the dried seaweed market as indeed it is an ingredient in the new Rain Island military rations which has put a lot of extra money into the trade. I recall being told their main commercial link with the outside world was through a “factor” back in Dutch Harbour who handled the plantation’s external sales. One hears of discount companies cutting out the middle-fur, but in this case their factor decided it was worthwhile cutting out the Penningtons, and in a “fit of conscience” told the authorities all about them in exchange for permission to carry on the business to his own profit. Had they been humble trappers or fisher-furs like their Aleutian “servants” nobody would have cared, but the Government discovered they had an industrial concern on their territory that had been trading seventy years without paying a cent of taxes. Molly’s speculations about seventy years’ worth of compound interest all came horribly true, and old Mr. Pennington and most other furs involved were dragged off to jail in Anchorage pending a trial they are not liable to win. To make matters worse, Mr. Pennington is claiming he is not a Citizen of the current “Damn Yankee” American Government, and would only pay taxes to Richmond rather than Washington. This is something for lawyers to make or break their reputations on, but as they claim not to be Citizens of any existing country the family have been provisionally declared Enemy Aliens and everything confiscated. It sounds rather arbitrary, but possibly someone wants to claim victory over the last surviving Confederate forces. The only link the Pennington daughters had with the outside world was the Songmark address I gave them, and my promise to do what I could for them in return for enjoying their family’s hospitality back in December. It was that or starve and freeze to death on the docks at Dutch Harbour where the coastguard unceremoniously dumped them. Their original land settlement grant was from the Tsarist Alaskan government, and as there is no Vostok embassy handy to appeal to the Penningtons were left without a whisker of support. Even so things might not have been so bad; Missy Blanche, Lucy, Emily and Cindy arrived about a week ago having spent on their fare the last of the emergency cache of golden Confederate dollars that had been a family heirloom hidden under a rock by the harbour. They got miserably short-changed too, not having been brought up knowing much about commerce and exchange rates. By the time they found my address and Songmark the last of their money had run out, and they only have three-week free Tourist visas so after that they would be deported to wherever the Spontoon authorities can find someone willing to take them (a tricky question given their state-less state). At any other time I could have advanced them enough money to help them get by, the one useful aspect of being Lady Allworthy – but we were as “incommunicado” by then as if we were on the far side of the moon, with the best trackers Rain Island and Albert Island could offer already searching for us to no avail. One hears rumours of various Embassies offering deals to desperate furs. The Soviet and the New Haven Embassy both invite “international comrades” to enlist, if they will agree to accept whichever brand of Revolution is relevant. Not many from Spontoon decide that a life of Soviet solidarity and fresh-air comradeship in Siberia cutting timber really appeals, but in more desperate parts of the world they have more recruits especially with the Depression as they do at least guarantee food and shelter of a sort. Even that would not have been so bad. Kuo Han has (technically) outlawed Slavery amongst its Citizens years ago to save trouble with the League of Nations, but foreigners are not Citizens and neither are existing slaves, and their Embassy is always ready to provide a one-time cash payment and a strictly one-way ticket for a suitable fur. They might not have been brought up with much in the way of commercial or practical skills, but the Pennington girls are solidly trained in matters of honour and duty. Rather too much so for their own good. If I was in a similar situation I could vanish into the woods to build a shelter and subsist on fish and clams over here or wild birds and rodents in Barsetshire, but of course Songmark training is very thorough that way and genteel educations tend to leave out emergency fire and shelter building in favour of piano playing and etiquette. When the Penningtons ran out of money after a night in the cheapest hotel they could find (and again they were miserably overcharged, this being tourist season and the Spontoonies were not to know of their problems) they could only think of how to get money by realising what they discovered was a very saleable asset – themselves. The worst of it is, all this is legal on the Embassy grounds and there is nothing the Spontoon Authorities can do about it. Lucy and Emily showed me some utterly hateful papers their sisters had signed to give them a chance in life, having received several thousand (genuine) dollars and open tickets to Europe. Blanche and Cindy are already gone, having been shipped out by air to Kou Han the day after signing, which would have been Wednesday.  Blanche & Cindy Pennington sign their contracts at the Kuo Han Embassy. (18 May, 1937) Art by Kjartan From what I have gathered through Molly, Harold and various furs on and off Krupmark Island, those who go to Kuo Han do not return. The Authorities basically write them off as if they were “lost at sea” and that is the end of it. As Lucy and Emily finished up their story, I must confess to feeling rather grim. Not unlike the sensation I felt when hearing the assassins tell Harold he was going to die for doing his duty. I have a duty too; I had promised the Penningtons I would do what I could if they were in trouble, and I had failed them. Ordering them a full breakfast at Song Sodas (they looked starved, having been too upset to eat properly for days) I returned to Songmark and requested a meeting with Miss Devinski. Our Tutors had mentioned the “visitors” who had missed us, and I confess to being in rather a rage thinking the four Penningtons could have had our beds and at least our poi ration while waiting for us to return. True, Songmark is not a free hotel and nobody yet has stayed overnight who is not a student (unless one believes various stories from its early years that may be just wishful thinking) but our Tutors have made their views on slavery plain enough on many occasions. Had they only lent the girls a leaky tent to pitch in the dunes and a can a day of Maconochie to be put on my bill afterwards this would not have happened. They could have had a month of beach holiday and all come back to Europe with us after our exams. I think Miss Devinski can read minds, or at least expressions and circumstances. She took me to her office straight away, closed the door and before I opened my mouth told me I was not going after Missy Blanche and Cindy – by now they would be a thousand miles away, beyond help in many ways. Although I have always tried to be properly respectful to our Tutors, today I took a deep breath and had to contradict her. I have a duty to do, one that goes beyond anything else – I told her I was quite aware of the difficulties, realised the lost Penningtons might not have even been taken to Kuo Han in the first place let alone still be there, and have not had time to even start making a plan to find and retrieve them – but I would, and would go through with it whatever it takes. Three years of reports and debates at Songmark have at least told us how to put together a good argument, and I think that morning was a record-breaking argument. I acknowledged that if I never came back I would have failed Lucy and Emily as well – so in ten minutes I hammered out arrangements that I could put in place in an hour, to look after them without me. I have favours I can call in on Spontoon, and Lucy and Emily will surely be little trouble as guests. Then the conversation rather went downhill. Miss Devinski was furious, but I think most of it was not turned at me. She took me outside to the mound and we descended to see Henrietta – and asked if I was going to risk ending up like her or Megan the “ship’s cat” rescued from Captain Granite’s ship. Of course it was Miss Devinski’s duty to point out she is responsible for us all, and unlike Henrietta’s disappearance years ago on Krupmark this was term time and under the very clear Songmark rules the Tutors can throw out any student for “wilfully and negligently endangering themselves and others.” As for “others”, she predicted the rest of my dorm would follow in whatever hair-brained scheme I made sound halfway plausible, and if losing one of us was bad enough losing four was not to be contemplated. Besides, we have our final exams coming up and had no time to go anywhere. Unless we resign as Songmark students. It was a painful decision but one I knew I would have to make as soon as I heard the Penningtons’ story. I have been brought up to believe that Duty comes first. On Krupmark and other places I have heard the incredible price quoted to capture alive a Songmark graduate (it has never been done, Henrietta having been a second-year) and I was not going to be the one to let Songmark down. I asked for another meeting on Sunday night to give me time to put a plan together – after which I would go after Blanche and Cindy, alone if needs be. If Miss Devinski wanted to throw me out of Songmark that has always been her choice. If it is a matter of failing to graduate or failing in my Duty, I have no choice. I half expected some kind of explosion, but it never came. She looked hard at me for a minute and told me to plan well – she would write me an overnight pass and hear the scheme at six on Sunday evening. Then with thanks to Henrietta we returned to the surface and I went up to brief the rest of my dorm. Not surprisingly, when they heard the facts they were not amazed that I was trying for a rescue. Helen is not cheerful at the prospect, pointing out that on Krupmark we at least spoke the language and none of us speak more than a dozen words of Chinese – besides, Molly and Maria are species that will be exceedingly rare and conspicuous on Kuo Han. In fact she says Molly has a much better chance of assassinating J. Edgar Hoover and getting away with it – in that she would blend in with the local background, can legally buy anything short of a howitzer and could probably find thousands of like-minded criminals around the country eager to help. That is certainly a problem. Being a Kuo Han local, Li Han was our first stop; Maria sprinted off to grab her before she followed Jasbir out to the usual dance classes. Not that she can teach us Cantonese in the island dialect before Sunday night, but all the background we can get on her homeland will help. We “grilled” the poor tabby for an hour and a half, and though she was glad to help she says it is quite as exhausting as the dance class she was missing. As we had heard before, it is not exactly illegal there and the Police treat escaped slaves as stolen property like any other with stiff penalties for “fencing” them or assisting those who do so. So it will be a case of getting them and us out of the country clandestinely in the face of a hue and cry, even supposing we can find them at all. In an unknown land with the language problem and presumably no local support (unlike say, Vostok where we had aid from both the natives and the Government) that is daunting. We split up with jobs assigned; Maria went to her Embassy to enquire about Italian-Kuo Han relations, Helen went off to check travel routes, Molly was to head down to the Temple of Continual Reward to enquire about the underworld connections there and I headed out at almost the usual time to Meeting Island, to see Harold. After all, he has years of experience with the legal hunt for (illegal) slavers and knows where they go and what they do from many a trial. Not that many officially come to trial these days; I imagine if they said anything the Police reports would read “accidentally tied himself up in barbed wire and was eaten alive by crabs while attempting to escape.” Certainly the authorities here make sure they do not have the chance to get off with a bought jury or a good lawyer. Passing Song Sodas I picked up Lucy and Emily who were starting to think I had abandoned them, and we made the trip to Meeting Island together. As ever, Harold was pleased to see me though naturally with the surviving Penningtons there things did not progress as they did on the last two weeks. Which I thought rather a shame, as I had definite worries that it would have been my last chance. Furs heading out to the Great War at least had a friendly army around them and support behind regardless of whatever they had to face. Harold was most courteous, being the nearest Lucy and Emily will find on Spontoon to the “old-world charm” they were brought up with. When I told him the story his face was rather grim, and like Miss Devinski he held out very little hope of anyone seeing Blanche and Cindy again. The Kuo Han slavers operate a “pipeline” which is triply insulated from any outsider finding their way in, and have refined it over decades to be invisible from outside. There are regular auctions of “merchandise” but they are privately arranged matters in remote locations for a selected clientele and definitely not advertised in the newspapers, even if we could read the language. After that, nobody but the purchaser knows what happens and nobody would even think of asking the question. As a judge and magistrate Harold can witness all sorts of legal transactions, and I helped him draw up a document making Emily and Lucy “wards of the Estate” so if the worst happens and I fail to return they will not be penniless – they will be looked after by whoever takes on the Allworthy Estates after me. That is one thing off my mind at least; having someone who knows both British and Spontoonie law is a great help. Harold volunteered to enquire what could be done for them in terms of papers and passports; if they do not want to be citizens of the “Damn Yankees” who they have been brought up to despise, they might get a Stateless person’s passport such as Spontoon’s Inspector Stagg had after the New Haven Revolutionary council outlawed him from his own country. Considering they have Kuo Han passports that may be technically perfect but nobody will ever believe as they do not speak the language (and possibly Blanche and Cindy are the only two grey foxes there right now; certainly they will be a very rare breed on Kuo Han) that would be an improvement. Besides, given the choice they would rather have something that does not remind them of the price their sisters paid. After two hours I said farewell to Harold, who was looking forward to getting busy on my behalf. In other circumstances I would have shown Emily and Lucy around the delights of Casino Island, but they were hardly in a holiday tourist mood and I had to check on how impossible the plan was looking. If there is really no hope at all then I will have to agree with Miss Devinski and concentrate on doing what I can for Emily and Lucy. My ears go down flat thinking of how all four vixens could have held out, had they known it, living on shellfish off the rocks and stream water for four days and all turned up in time for a hearty breakfast together with us today. Three years at Songmark have certainly changed us, and the course equips us to deal with every eventuality. At least I hope so. Back at Song Sodas Helen, Maria and Molly had already returned with information. None of it looks hugely encouraging, but some possibilities are starting to show. Maria says Kuo Han and Italy are neutral, as indeed they have had little to do with each other. She can get there calling it a “trade delegation” trading on her Uncle’s name. What her Uncle will have to say about her quitting Songmark at this stage she politely declined to share with us but I can guess. She says Kuo Han is no great manufacturing nation but has a lot of mining, with Vostok getting all its bauxite from there and Italian interests could well be making enquiries through the Embassy about getting some of that trade. Helen says we can get to Kuo Han easily enough, changing at Hawaii and picking up the Humapore and India route on Imperial Airways. She is rightly worried about the language problem; it was bad enough when we were on Vostok, and at least there we had the support of the Authorities who wanted us to look around the place and provided us a fairly reliable guide to go with Tatiana as additional independent translator. Finding a guide who we then use to break the law (without them immediately turning us in for reward) would be a problem. Molly says there is at least one probable Kou Han slaver on Spontoon who the authorities have never been able to “pin anything on”, and suggests we find him and make him talk. She has some radical ideas on those lines involving power tools or mains electricity. I admit the prospect has a certain robust directness, but if we have to do anything illegal I would rather keep it to Kuo Han and only break laws nobody likes in the rest of the world or will have Interpol chase us for. Apart from that, she knows Krupmark has a start to the “pipeline” and can name some names there reputed to be involved. Interestingly she says that contrary to popular belief one or two furs have returned having been sold there. But she insists they are not the same people at all, and no longer seem capable of planning any sort of escape or even wishing to. Recalling Henrietta, I have a nasty idea what she means. I suggested she ask about the Krupmark connection, as indeed we can get there and know something of its hazards. An idea sprang to mind, of at least myself taking the difficult role of a “captive”. If we could persuade someone on Krupmark to basically “obtain” Lady Allworthy I could get to Kuo Han, brought to the same sort of place Blanche and Cindy are in; if no outsiders ever find that out then I will have to get there from within. The chances of ending up at the same sale (though we hear they are hardly daily affairs) as Blanche and Cindy is slim, but it will be a start. I have talents learned as a Warrior Priestess that will help once we find their trail. Furs who have seen them will remember them, and from then I can use other talents Saimmi has trained us in. Maria objected that I would vanish and be impossible to find, should I be held too securely to escape on my own. Helen and I exchanged glances – and Helen admitted that is not likely to happen. Both of us being Warrior Priestesses, we have learned a ritual where one of us can always find the other even if we are asleep, unconscious, drugged or whatever. We have tested it as well as we can on Spontoon, even being underground in the lava tubes does not hinder it. Unlike a radio, even the best one could imagine Cranium Island producing, there is no equipment needed as I am only too aware I will have nothing with me. As long as Helen stays on the “outside” she can find me, and if I can find the Penningtons the others will have a chance of getting us out. The details will have to depend on the circumstances, as three years of Songmark have taught us that although a good plan is essential to start with, “no plan survives contact with the enemy.” Molly left to make some telephone calls while we asked Lucy and Emily for any details that might help. Emily is holding up quite well but almost broke down as she told us she had been approached by an Oriental fur whispering “details” of how Cindy at least had quite taken to some aspects of her new life. He had hinted that even now it might not be impossible for Emily to save her eldest sister Blanche by willingly taking her place. I had to tell her that it is extremely unlikely, and all the Kuo Han embassy wanted was an extra Pennington girl to add to their collection without paying a penny. Besides, Blanche and Cindy are probably a long way off by now and beyond the reach of even the Embassy having been passed to another part of the “pipeline.” That done, we had to make arrangements for looking after the two “survivors”. They have not been invited into Songmark, and they had no plans to use their first-class open tickets to Europe until either all hope for their sisters was lost or their visas expire in two weeks. Even that would be a leap in the dark on their own, as they know less of Europe than of the moon which at least they have seen before. Having them arrive unescorted on some dock in Marseilles or Hamburg would be a very bad idea; Molly says in America there are skilled furs always waiting to spot vulnerable immigrants and they might end up sharing something like their sisters’ fate. I am the only one of my dorm with a Pass to stay out past sundown, and there is no point in Helen, Molly and Maria irritating our Tutors until they need to. So I took charge, escorting them to Mahanish’s where they always have basic rooms for aircrew available at a fraction of the Casino Island prices. Weary mechanics and stewards want a good meal, bath and a bed; they care little for sea views and luxurious furniture when they have to be up at dawn to meet incoming flights and indeed there is little other commercial accommodation on Eastern Island. Putting them up on Casino Island would be riskier, and at least at Mahanish’s they are within easy reach of Songmark without introducing the complications of water taxis. Back to Songmark where we busied ourselves with maps and guide books of Kou Han, plus more grilling Li Han about her homeland. The poor girl tried her best to help, but comes from a respectable family and has little to tell us about the rather specialised questions we need answering. She did tell us that slavery was not a Chinese cultural tradition as such; given the utterly low status of “coolies” it would have been rather redundant anyway. At least she could tell us about everyday life there, which would be useful to the outside team. Molly and Maria will be rather conspicuous by their species there – I blushed recalling Molly’s capture back in the Papeete Influenza outbreak where I had been told Western does would be very popular indeed – and being fairly fresh from Saint Winifred’s I naively asked why the Authorities there did not offer promotional tickets and accommodation for such. It seems free accommodation and travel are indeed available, though only with one-way tickets! To bed only at lights-out, a rare thing for us at weekends when we are usually relaxing and making the most of our time off. I fear there will be little of that, in the near future. next |