NationStates Jolt Archive

Liberty Alliance Headquarters

The fattish, bald man smiled at his colleagues. "Gentlemen, I'm proud to be here with you today. As the CEO of the Cute Bunny Burger Corporation, I'm one of the latest additions to this elite group."

He looked at the people in front of him. Kevin Nivensky, the CEO of Allanean Arms. Dagny Taggart, of Taggart Trains, with her long, graying hair, and slender fingers. Miguel "Old man" Hernandez, of Allanean Pharmaceuticals, with his white suit and leaf-shaped emerald pin, grinning from the wheelchair. And now, next to them sat George Nolan, of Cute Bunny Burger Corporation, wearing the shirt of the soccer team CBBC sponsored, and Jean Davis-Kournikov, head of S-Mart Limited.

"Ladies and gentlement, I have a project to offer. And that project has a name. The name is… Excalbian Isles."
Somewhere in the Isles, two months later

They managed to find a proper island. It was not very big, and not arable – a few miles of rock and sand, not really good for agriculture. It was easy to see why it was overlooked by earlier settlers. But the new ship that came was nothing like the earlier settlers.

It was a cargo freighter, waving the flag not of a country, but of a corporation – the golden head of a bunny on a pink warehouse. From the ship appeared two small helicopters, and flew thrice over the island. After that, workmen came, setting up simple modular homes, warehouses, and the like – simplistic and quick, and extremely spartan. But for the first few hours, it would have to do.

And then, they drilled a simple hole in the rock and mounted a high pole in it. A single man in a suit and a glow-in-the-dark tie descended ashore, and brought a simple object, which he folded out and raised to the top of the pole.

It was the Allanean flag.

Placekeeper until tomorrow...

International Waters West-Southwest of Ayoport

The waters of the Southern Gulf, where the North Atlantic crashed into the shores of the Excalbian Isles, were generally choppy and somewhat treacherous. Many a ship had been lost here on the reefs and in the hidden shallows that extended for miles from some of the islands. Across the broken sea a small ship with an oddly angled hull riding above the water on twin struts scurried towards the horizon at high speed. Despite its speed the ship left a minimal wake. Combined with its small size, this made the ship difficult to spot unless someone happened to look directly at her. Made of radar absorbing materials and loaded with electronic countermeasures, the ship was also virtually invisible to radar.

Aboard the ship – INV Spectre – LCDR Christofer Polson leaned over the back of his command chair. He glanced around the cramped bridge. The helmsman was holding the ship on course towards small rocky outcropping known as Hanson's Island. To his left, the tactical officer was tracking the course of a large foreign freighter.

The large, fairly slow-moving ship had been detected by the Home Fleet some time ago. Since she was in international waters and not bound for Excalbia, they had paid little attention to her. However, when she moved out of normal shipping lanes and seemed to make her course towards the unsettled islands of the Southern Archipelago, the Fleet had taken notice and had dispatched Spectre to investigate.

"Skipper," LT Patty Myers said without taking her eyes off her tactical displays, "the freighter seems to have slowed to a stop just off Hanson's Island." Two beats later she added, "Looks like they've launched aircraft, sir. Probably choppers."

Polson nodded. "Ready an UAV for launch," he turned to the communications technician, "and notify Fleet HQ."

Technician 2nd Class Ben Gabler nodded. "Aye, aye, sir. Sending message."

Myers touched a few keys and waited a moment, then said, "Loading UAV in launcher 56." A moment later, she said, "Ready to launch."

"Launch," Polson said, walking around his chair to lean over the tac officer's station.

Outside, one of the ship's seamless hatch opened and a small rocket fired, streaking into the sky. Moments later, the rocket booster feel to the ocean and wings popped out from the toaster-sized payload. The small unmanned aircraft climbed and pass high above the freighter and Hanson's Island.

Aboard the ship, Myers and Polson were intently watching the images coming from the drone's camera and IR sensors. There were workers putting up pre-fab structures on the island. Then, a man walked out and raised a flag.

"Can you get the flag, Tac?"

"Aye, Skipper," Myers said. "Wait a tic." The picture zoomed in on the flag. "Allanean, sir!"

Ministry of State, Citadel Excalbia

The conference room on the seventh floor of the original 19th century building that was known as Old State was more ornate than most government meeting. Yet the basic features of a long table, rolling chairs and audio-visual equipment were what one would expect. Lord Admiral Derek Kunle, Chief of the General Staff, strode into the room, sparkling in his white, short-sleeved uniform. Behind him, Vice Admiral Harriet Gunilda, the Navy's Judge Advocate General, seemed a slight pale figure by comparison. Rear Admiral Jeter Taliefero, Commander of the Home Fleet's strike group stationed off Southport, was still wearing his field-dress khakis, having just flown in from his flagship, INV Landing.

The three officers and their escort from the Allanean Affairs Office stood impatiently to one side. A moment after their arrival, another State Ministry official escorted Sir Quentin Dahlbeck, the Solicitor General from the Ministry of Justice, and Ambassador Rev. Jacob Donnelly, the Director of Imperial Intelligence, into the room. As the participants were shaking hands and introducing themselves, the Deputy Minister of State entered through another door.

"Please be seated," Sarah Harrington said, gesturing to the table. She took her seat at the head of the table and waited for the others to join her. She flipped open a blue portfolio with a red stripe across it. "So, I understand the Allaneans have landed on something called Hanson's Island…"

"Yes, Ma'am," RADM Taliefero said. "Earlier today a single freighter put ashore a work crew that set up some houses and other, larger buildings."

Harrington nodded. "And we're sure they're Allaneans?"

"They ran up the Allanean flag, Ma'am."

The Deputy Minister smiled. "Good point. And the ship? What do we know about it?"

Lord Derek, in his low, rumbling voice, said, "The ship is registered to a private Allanean corporation. Something called Cute Bunny Burgers." The admiral pronounced the name as if it were something mildly distasteful.

Harrington turned her head to one side. "Is this a private, corporate venture or a governmental act?"

Rev. Donnelly arched an eyebrow and leaned forward. "We doubt, Sarah, that the Allanean government took the initiative on this; it would fit the pattern we saw in the Pantocratorian Archipelago for this to be an entirely private venture. It would also be in keeping with Allanea's, shall we say, extremely libertarian approach to government."

Sarah Harrington leaned back. "Is there anything we can do about?"

VADM Gunilda shook her head. "From a legal perspective that is doubtful, Ma'am. The island lies south of our territorial waters and west of the Confederation's waters. It was included in Emperor Joshua I's grant to the colony of New Hope as an avenue for future expansion, if they had chosen to avail themselves of the option. However, when they became part of Deandra, and Deandra part of the Confederation, they let that option lapse. The territory reverted to the status of an unorganized territory of the Sword. A man named Silas Hanson settled on it in the mid-19th century and tried to start a fishing business there under an Imperial license, but he abandoned the island a few years later. When formal boundaries were proclaimed in 1871, Hanson's Island was left in international waters."

"So, we have no legal basis to remove the Allaneans?"

Sir Quentin leaned forward and interrupted. "We could always assert our interests in the island by virtue of its location within our zone of exclusive economic interest." He leaned back. "But such claims are not universally accepted. And it may stir controversy with the Allanean government."

Harrington nodded. She was as aware as anyone in the room that some of the Empire's largest companies had just reached a profitable agreement with Allanea to establish production and research facilities on Roanoke Island.

"What do we think they're doing on Hanson's Island?" She asked.

"They seem to be putting up warehouses, Ma'am. For Cute Bunny Burgers, S-Mart and some other companies," RADM Taliefero said.

"All this for an off-shore trading platform?" Harrington leaned back, crossing her arms.

"It would seem so," Lord Derek said.

"OK." Harrington stood. "I'll need to brief the Minister, who'll brief the cabinet and the Chancellor. I recommend that for now we keep the island and the ship under surveillance. We'll summon Allanea's ambassador – or whatever representative they have here – to the Ministry for an explanation and I'll recommend that we ask the corporations involved to send representatives to explain their plans to us."

Shortly after the meeting, the Allanean Embassy in Citadel Excalbia received a call summoning their ambassador to the Ministry. At the same time calls went out to the corporate headquarters of Pink Bunny Burgers, S-Mart and the other companies spotted on the island.

Somewhere in the Excalbian Islands

The small helicopter made it's daily circle around the Island. From the small glass ball that the Allanean Arms Dragonfly-X used for a cockpit, Joe Sanders could see almost in all directions, and the varied cameras, lens, and other such equipment showed him every imperfection on the surface – there a small boat, there a school of dolphins, and there a hefty cargo ship, moving slowly towards the Island itself. It was beautiful, and calming. The best part of Joe's job as a pilot for CBBC were the security patrols, he thought. And no silly executives pestering you, wanting to be flown who knows were...

“Flying Bunny Six, this is Mother Bunny, do you read me, over.”

Ah, and here the troubles start.. The helicopter lowered briefly, passing gracefully only ten meters above the water level – it was like he could reach down and touch the back of that killer whale as it rose to the surface. Hell, with a better weather, I might have even tried. Instead, I have to deal with this kind of sorry nonsense. The helicopter regained altitude again. The radio crackled to life.

“Flying Bunny Six, this is Mother Bunny, are you there? Come in, Flying Bunny Six. This is Mother Bunny. Come in. Over.”

It seemed like there was no escaping the inevitable, and Sanders reached for his dashboard and pressed a small green button.

“Mother Bunny, this is Flying Bunny Six, I had interference, but I hear you now. Over.”

“Flying Bunny Six, this is Mother Bunny, we have some radio troubles, it seems. Anyway, you must come back to base and rest. You have a flight in several hours. Over.”

The gullible idiots. Well, at least they didn't realize I was snubbing them. The small white helicopter turned, and began to make it's way back to the Island.

Bunny Island, Excalbian Islands

The helicopter passed low above the flagpole – half a meter lower, and the thing would have hit it in the thin underbelly, scratching the bunny-head logo there inscribed.

The landing pad was basically a flat circle of rock, around which artificial palms were poking out of the bare rock. Even if one knew – as Sanders did – that the palms were made of plastic, it was still rather impressive.

And in one of the pre-cast modular buildings around the landing part, Moses Abramoff-Smith, Cute Bunny Burger Corporation Executive Officer, Excalbian Regional Division, was also impressed by Sanders' aerial stunt.

“Here's a good pilot,” - he told his secretary. - “But just too damn careless for executive transport. We should look at having him put in the cargo department, or something.” Sanders would have shuddered in horror if he were there to hear this. “Or, say, the CBSF. I understand they need combat pilots all the time... bah. You know what? He's taking me to Excalbia today. I'll see how he does his stuff.”

The helicopter began to lower itself onto the pad. Sanders landed it on the exact center of it, with surgical accuracy. He was still grinning as the canopy opened and he left the cockpit of the Dragonfly-X with a light jump.

He was wearing a set of jeans, a white shirt, and a pair of large, black Teacher's Special pistols in shoulder holsters. Moses Abramoff-Smith raised his eyebrows when he saw that. “Doesn't this rig make sitting a bit uncomfortable, or something? I use hip and ankle holsters, myself. But anyway, Faina, let's get back to the letter. We'll be flying out to Excalbia tomorrow morning.”

Elsewhere on the Island, the local executives of S-Mart, Allanean Arms, Taggart Trains were also working on their responses. Taggart Trains' representative sent back an email detailing the corporation's experience with trains and setting them up, and offered it's services to local and central government authorities in Excalbia. The Allanean Arms representative assured the Excalbians of his peaceful intent and by the by asked if there were many hunters or sportsmen in Excalbia. The S-Mart representative sent off a long detailed letter of excuisite politeness, but also three letters to a variety of Excalbian agencies requesting detailed economic and demographic data about the country.

One could say it was business as usual.


In Excalbia, the day after

The United States Embassy in Excalbia was an unusual deal – if only if it was rather small, essentially a suburban home renovated for a new purpose and staffed by five people including embassy guards. Attached to it was something like an enormous garage – practically bigger then the embassy itself, accommodating for the differing vehicles these five people drove – or rather, which the Department of State bought for them as 'work cars'. The fact that these five people had seven 'work cars' amongst them said quite a few things about the Allanean government, none of them particularly good things at that.

For Fiona Lionel-Storm, the work car of the day was her Blastolene Special X-Treme Edition, reshaped to look even more like an early-20th century Duesenberger then the original design. It was that car that carried her briskly, but smoothly, towards the building of the Ministry of State.

It would be difficult to describe Fiona's exact feelings about what was going on. On one hand, she understood full well that the expansion of Allanean corporate holdings to what was now Bunny Island was rather good for Allanea – more incomes, more jobs, more economic power, and more political power in the long run.

But on the other hand, in the short run the CBBC executives – or any of the other executives – could easily screw things up, as Allanean businessmen had often done before. The United Nations had considered the Allaneans the 259th rudest nation in the world, and it was easy for them to unwittingly (or sometimes deliberately) offend a foreign citizen, or, God forbid, their government.

And it was exactly situations like these that Fiona's job was to prevent.

She looked upwards, and smiled as she saw a small white helicopter pass overhead towards the Ministry, the golden bunny head shown on it's underbelly. At least we'll all be there at the same time... or at least standing in line at the same time. I may be able to influence them not to do anything stupid... at least for now.

In front of her, a small (in Allanean terms) car had passed, S-Mart logos on it's doors glittering. Okay, people. thought Fiona. Let's rumble.

Ministry of State, Citadel Excalbia

The Ministry of State was housed in two adjacent buildings. One, a rather large, modern glass and steel edifice, was known as New State and housed the bulk of the Ministry's staff. The other, a large – for its time –steep-roofed early Jugendstil treasure, was known as Old State and housed the offices of the Minister, the other principal officers of the Ministry and its ceremonial spaces.

As the Ambassador Lionel-Storm and the Allanean businessmen arrived, their cars were directed to the entrance of Old State. (Naturally the executives arriving by air had been directed to the airport, where cars were waiting to bring them into the capital; only military and government aircraft were authorized to fly over Citadel Island, the heart of the Empire's government administration.) At the entrance, they were greeted by the senior desk officer from the office responsible for Allanean affairs and, after passing through security, were shown to a meeting room on the sixth floor.

Like the building itself, the room was exquisitely decorated in the style of the late 19th century, with a polished wooden table, trimmed in gold, standing atop a blue and gold carpet decorated with the Imperial Seal. One wall was dominated by a large hand-drawn map of the Excalbian Isles in a gilded frame, while on the other hung a large portrait of the Emperor in a white naval uniform and slightly smaller painting of the Prince Regent in the dark blue uniform of the Imperial Army.

Behind the table stood a surprisingly young-looking middle-aged woman in a conservative suit. She was flanked by two naval officers, one a man with the two stars of rear admiral, and the other a woman with the three stars of a vice admiral. A middle-aged man in an out-of-state suit stood with a slightly younger man in a modern suit and a short, trim woman in a pants suit.

The woman at the centre of the group smiled and extended her hand. "Welcome," she said, "I'm Sarah Harrington, the Deputy Minister of State." She turned to her right. "This is Vice Admiral Harriet Gunilda, the Judge Advocate General, and Rear Admiral Jeter Taliefero from our Home Fleet." Turning to her left, she continued, "And this is Sir Quentin Dahlbeck, the Justice Ministry's Solicitor General, Russel Banks, our Chief Legal Counsel, and Anne Blums from Foreign Investment Office of the Ministry of Commerce."

After waiting for the Allaneans to introduce themselves, Harrington gestured to the seats around the table. "Please be seated." She offered the Allaneans coffee or water before starting in on the matters at hand.

"I understand that a few days ago an Allanean ship arrived at Hanson's Island and began setting up what appear to be housing settlements and warehouses. While the island is, indeed, in international waters, it does fall within our zone of exclusive economic interest. Also, while it has never been incorporated into the Empire, it has been the subject of at least two previous Imperial land grants, establishing a history of Excalbian interests in the islands.

"That said, it still might be possible for us to work out an agreement for the use or lease of the island, provided that you can first inform of your intentions in settling the island and provide us details of your plans."

Ministry of State, Citadel Excalbia

The Allanean representative smiled back as he considered the answer. “Well, for our purposes, a lease will not suffice. What my private-sector colleagues want, I understand, is to have a small island under Allanean sovereignty. As such – at least so they have told me over the phone – they would like to purchase the island entirely, and thus to have Allanean laws and regulations apply there.”

The CBBC executive nodded. “Indeed. The island will serve as a manufacturing center and headquarters for all our Excalbian Isles operations, marketing, and so forth. It will be one large – huge – humongous corporate palace.”

The Allanean Arms executive chipped in: “In fact, we are ready to buy the island outright.”

Ministry of State, Citadel Excalbia

Sarah Harrington arched a single eyebrow. The Allanean proposal was not what she had expected. “Such a proposal would require the approval of the Senate… the ascent of the Prince Regent or the Emperor…”

RADM Jeter Taliefero sputtered. “Madam, you cannot be serious…” A pair of sharp looks – one from the Deputy Minister and the other from the Vice Admiral – was enough to force the Taliefero into a frustrated, angry silence.

VADM Harriet Gunilda leaned over to Taliefero and whispered in his ear, “Now is not the time, Jeter, the Navy will make its case behind closed doors.” Taliefero nodded and let his expression soften just a bit.

Anne Blums leaned over, behind the Solicitor General and the State Ministry’s Chief Counsel, and whispered to Harrington. “With the right conditions, this could be an excellent opportunity…” Harrington nodded, cutting off further discussion.

Leaning over the table, Harrington addressed the Allaneans. “If such a sale is possible, Madam Ambassador, we will require certain… concessions, which Ms. Blums might be able to outline. However, we need to make it clear that, even if we agree to the sale, your operations in the Empire proper will have to conform to all Excalbian laws. Now, if you wish to negotiation an investment and trade treaty, it may be possible to eliminate most tariffs and grant your operations some limited tax deferments, on a reciprocal basis, of course.” Harrington turned to Blums and nodded.

The Commerce Ministry’s Head of Foreign Investment smiled at the Allaneans. “First, with regard to the trade and investment treaty,” she reached into a portfolio and passed a bound document to the ambassador, “we have prepared a draft agreement. If provides for most Allanean and Excalbian products to enter the other country duty-free and establishes a seven year tax holiday for any investments over one million Imperial Sovs. It also provides penalties for product dumping, subsidies to domestic industries and an arbitration mechanism in the event of a dispute”

Blums folded her hands on top of her portfolio. “Now, as to the island. We recognize that several of our companies have recently established extra-territorial enclaves on your Roanoke Island, so if we were to sell Hanson’s Island, we would do so under similar terms. We would sell your companies the land outright but would grant their territories Allanean sovereignty only to the extent that and only so long as the private Excalbian facilities opened on Roanoke Island remain under Excalbian sovereignty. Further, we would require two additional concessions – first that your companies grant Excalbian companies the right to purchase or lease land on the island and establish facilities there under Allanean law – and second that the Allanean government sign a declaration of non-aggression and pledge not to station military forces on the island.”

Harrington nodded. “If you can accept the proposal as outlined, we can let the lawyers discuss the details and determine the price. Then, we can forward the agreement to the Senate and on to the Sword.”

OOC: Extra-territorial? I must have missed something. At any rate, Allanea is a libertarian nation, so… feel free to do whatever in the enclaves.

IC:

The Allanean shrugged. “We believe this is very well, however I would like to point out several things. First of all, Allanea’s government is prohibited under our Constitution (http://s12.invisionfree.com/Allanea/index.php?showtopic=7) from subsidizing any industry. This has been repeatedly stated by the Supreme Court of Allanea, particularly in Union of Farmers vs. United States, Steel Workers Union vs. United States, and Record Industry Association of Allanea vs. United States We have applied for membership in the Knootian International Stability Treaty, and perhaps it would be the best for you to do so as well to prevent just such such misunderstandings.”

“But that aside, we will be happy to sign the agreement.”

The Excalbians collectively gasped at the suggestion that the Holy Empire sign the Knootian International Stabilisation Treaty. RADM Jeter Taliefero looked down and muttered something that sounded like, “Damn Dutch.” Anne Blums looked somewhat wistfully at the Allaneans and whispered, “Quite impossible…”

With a sharp look up and down the table Sarah Harrington restored order. Then, with a diplomatic smile plastered to her face, she turned back to the Allaneans. “Unfortunately, it would not be practical for us to entertain ideas of joining the K.I.S.T. at this time. Nevertheless, it sounds as if we have reached a broad agreement on the outline of a treaty: that the Empire will entertain the notion of selling Hanson’s Island to a consortium of private Allanean corporations and granting those corporations extraterritoriality on the island, provided that Excalbian businesses operating on Roanoke Island receive similar concessions and that Excalbian businesses be allowed to operate on Hanson’s Island – on a commercial basis – and, finally, that the United States agree to sign a unilateral declaration of non-aggression and pledge not to station military forces on the island.”

She looked expectantly towards the Allanean Ambassador waiting for a show of agreement. Then, she concluded by saying, “If we are in agreement, then we can leave it to the lawyers to finalize the agreement and settle on the price. Then, I shall refer the agreement to the Prince Regent and the Chancellor and await their decision on submitting it to the Senate.”

(OOC: Extraterritoriality was mentioned in the original letter from Exsoft, NADS and AzIntel in your "open doors" thread...)

The Allaneans nodded. “This is very well with us. We have no intention of attacking you, or anybody else in the Isles. The only thing that we are here to do is to make money, and money can be best made during peace. As such, we have no problem with anybody operating on Hanson’s Island, as long as they are not enemies of the Allanean Republic.

So, shall we sign the papers?” – the Allanean ambassador extracted a large, elaborate, well-made pen from somewhere in her clothing.

On Hanson’s Island

In the meanwhile, operatives of the Cute Bunny Burger Corporation were beginning the work on their plan. Already, they were making communications with the leading polling companies in Excalbia, trying to figure out what the local commercials for the Bunny Burgers should focus on – the fact they were endorsed by a major medical corporation? The fact they were sponsoring part of the Baptism of Fire competition? The fact they were sponsoring Ylompic sportsmen? All of the ideas were considered, but the responses of the future Excalbian partners were necessary before they could be put into action.

They were not the only ones. Taggart Trains, too, where making an inquiry into the market – trying to find out how much profit there would be in building a train track from Fairfield to Easton. Their plan was to start by running passenger trains on a narrow-gauge track, specializing in middle-class and proletarian travelers, but they would settle on freight too – in fact, in Allanea, the Taggart fortune was built on freight.

Operation Excalbia was about to begin.

OOC: See! I’m not as smart as I appear to be! :D

Ministry of State, Citadel Excalbia

Sarah Harrington smiled as Ambassador Lionel-Storm produced an elaborate pen and held it up, as if ready to a sign a treaty on the spot. “Nice pen, Madam Ambassador,” Harrington said pleasantly. “I appreciate your enthusiasm. And I thank you for your willingness to sign the non-aggression pact and to forego a military presence on the island; that will certainly make it easier for our leaders to accept this agreement.”

The Deputy Minister of State smiled warmly. “Nevertheless, I must still present this agreement to the Chancellor and the Prince Regent. I should have an indication from them in a day or two as to whether they will find this acceptable.”

Harrington stood and gestured towards the door from which she had entered. “In the meantime, Madam Ambassador, I suggest that we let the attorneys and accountants discuss the fine print and settle on the price. I would like to invite you to join me for a light refreshment.” She turned towards Anne Blums. “My colleague from the Ministry of Commerce has arranged for your countrymen to meet some of our business leaders, if they’d care to go with her.”

Business Information

In their efforts to learn about the Excalbian economy, Taggart Trains learned that the rail system in Excalbia was fairly well developed. Several large private railroads controlled the bulk of the freight handling – Western Atlantic owned lines linking the naval and civilian ports at New Boston and Georgetown with the commercial capital of Landing and the cities of the western Empire; the R,L & CE ran lines from Richland, Landing and the southwest to the capital in Citadel Excalbia and the central highlands; South Excalbia Lines reached from the gigantic commercial port of Southport to Fairfield and the central highlands. The same railroads ran passenger service, with high-speed InterCity Express trains running between the major cities. A patchwork of smaller companies and municipal authorities ran smaller commuter lines. As for the line between the secondary port of Easton and Fairfield, it was owned by the Southeastern Railway Company, a small company with aging infrastructure that happened to be looking for new capital and new equipment.

In Citadel Excalbia

“Surely!”

The CBBC executive rose together with the rest. “Wonderful, Madam. I wonder who I should inquire with for the opening a test amount of, say, 1000 branches throughout Excalbia?”

Official Message from Taggart Trains, Incorporated to the Southeastern Railway company shareholders

Dear Friends!

We are aware of the problems that you have been having recently with your infrastructure, and we are offering a solution. Essentially, Taggart Trains, Incorporated would like to make a deal with you, as follows:

1. Taggart Trains, Incorporated, would further like to entirely purchase from you your company, so as to enable us a locale to establish as a beginning of our expansion in Excalbia. We would pay $reasonable_price.
2. Further, we would give every owner of a share in the SRC sized 0.1% or greater a 160-acre homestead n any of the new Allanean colonies, and finance the building of a home in it.
3. Taggart Trains Incorporated promises to renovate the Easton-Fairfield Line at their own expense, and with no discomfort to the freight users.


OOC: Are any other Islanders active?

Ministry of State, Citadel Excalbia

As Deputy Minister Sarah Harrington led the Allanean ambassador through the door to light buffet of salad, finger sandwiches and a variety of drinks, Anne Blums ushered the businessmen through the door and down the hall to another meeting room where a small group of Excalbian businessmen were waiting to greet them.

She turned towards the CBBC executive as he spoke. “A thousand locations?” She shrugged and her expression turned pensive. “That’s certainly a large opening, enough to place several locations in every major city and in quite a few suburbs. You’ll certainly have big job in front of you to penetrate the market; we have several chain restaurants that dominate the market – Lido’s, which serves traditional dishes with a lot of pork, fish and potatoes; Annette’s BBQ Pitt and Empire Blues, both of which specialize in Old Virginia barbeque; not to mention a half-dozen burger chains and even more sub and pizza chains…”

Blums smiled. “But, if you want to try to launch with that many locations, you’re welcome to do so.” She leaned in close to the CBBC executive. “I’d downplay the rabbit meat, though; a lot of people here eat venison, but most are more comfortable with pork, beef, chicken or lamb…”

She opened the door to the meeting room and a half dozen men and women inside stood. “Here we are…”

Taggart Trains, Inc.

Dear Sirs:

Thank you for interest in investing in Southeastern Railway Company. Our company, which recently celebrated its one-hundred-and-twenty-fifth anniversary, has always taken pride in its service to southeastern Excalbia and its reputation for responsibility and stability. We are, however, also a company that values innovation.

We have put your offer to our shareholders and while they are intrigued by the opportunity to interject fresh blood and a new perspective into the company, they are reluctant to completely divest themselves of the company.

Therefore, the shareholders have authorized me to make the following counteroffer: We are prepared to sell a controlling interest in our passenger rail service – up to 75% of this division – and a minority interest in our freight service – up to 25% - at the price you quoted, provided that at least one quarter of the total price be paid in the equivalent number of shares of Taggart Trains, Inc stock and that another one quarter be made in the form of new capitalization for the company.

Finally, five of our minority shareholders have expressed interest in accepting your offer of a homestead in an Allanean colony.

Please let us know you decision.

Sincere Regards,
Sir Jon Bluger
Chairman and COO,
SRC

OOC: I RP Excalbia, Upper Virginia, Free Virginia, the C.S.S. and Saxmere - most of the nations of the Isles. Feel free to establish businesses in UV and the CSS - both are cut-throat capitalist nations with very few restrictions on private enterprise. Saxmere is closer to Excalbia in its approach to business - capitalist, but regulated. Free Virginia is an out-and-out communist enclave.

The Allanean executive smiled. “1000 branches is not as big a number as it sounds if you consider the total population of Excalbia. Consider the amounts in other nations (http://www.nationmaster.com/graph/foo_mcd_res_percap-food-mcdonalds-restaurants-per-capita), for example. But at any rate, most of the meat we serve is not rabbit, it is beef or whatever is common – even though we try to always keep at least one rabbit burger on the menu. Other then that, we try hard to respect the local traditions, tastes, and so forth. In fact, we are planning to hire a team of Excalbian consultants for the purpose of marketing our product in the nation.”

He smiled as he followed the Excalbian into the next room.



Dear Mr. Bluger,

We are extremely thankful to you for your kind letter. We will happily agree to those conditions. However, we would like the Passenger Rail Service to adapt the name and livery of Taggart Trains, Incorporated. If it is necessary, we will increase the payment to the shareholders by $sum to achieve this, as this has an additional value to us in terms of brand recognition.

A few months later, in Jefferson, Sovereign States

“Well, let’s hope they like it.” – Michael Kravis, the head of Cute Bunny Burger Corporation’s Sovereign States Division, smiled. He was a fresh graduate of the Liberty University Business program, and he had no idea why he was appointed to be head of this division – apart from how it was right now only ten branches strong.

The flagship branch was right in front of him – a forty-stories tower in the capital, taken over the by the Cute Bunny Burger Corporation and renovated in to a literal BunnyPalace. The Corporation had maybe a hundred of those all over the world, and it was proud of them. There were pictures of the BunnyPalaces in the CBBC’s newsletter and website, and they featured in the company’s promotion.

And if you had a BunnyPalace in your nation, you just knew it was going to spawn more Cute Bunnies. And given that CBBC had a plan to eventually establish 20 branches per million population in the CSS, that knowledge would probably be true – though Michael Kravis so far had no idea how to make it so.

PetersBurg, Upper Virginia

Fionne Clooney jumped off her bike with a single, fluid motion, and began walking towards the office. It was the first Allanean Arms office in the country. So far, Allanean Arms was not marketing actual weapons – rather, they were offering their services as a heavy industry subcontractor.

Allanean Arms builds quite everything- and that includes apartment complexes and housing projects. It was that market that it intended to start with, because they understood it was not likely they could expand in the defense industry, dominated as it was by NDI.

Still, they had hopes.

Ministry of State, Citadel Excalbia

“Well, then” Anne Blums smiled, “I wish you the best of luck.” As she walked into the room, she gestured around at the gathered business executives. “Gentlemen, these are some of your potential customers.” She smiled broadly. “And some of your competitors – executives of food services companies, agro-business concerns, retail chains and several leading restaurant chains…”

Taggart Trains, Inc.

Dear Sirs,

Thank you for the acceptance of our counter offer. We are happy to proceed as outlined in our previous letter. As for using the name and livery of Taggart Trains for our Passenger Rail Service, we find that acceptable, with one condition – that it be used in conjunction with name and logo of Southeastern Railway Company. Naturally, we would expect your own name and livery to hold primary place and to be featured on the cars, locomotive, signage and advertisements of the service. However, for historical reasons – and owing to our continued part-ownership of the service – we would like to maintain use of the name and logo of our company in a secondary position. We also believe this will serve to help your company gain greater and faster acceptance in the Excalbian marketplace, as Excalbians tend, by nature, to be rather traditional and rather wedded to their history.

Sincerely,

Sir Jon Bluger
Chairman and COO,
SRC

Jefferson, Sovereign State of New Virginia, C.S.S.

Allan Myers, Vice President for the General Retail Division of Confederated Enterprise (CE), looked out from his office on the 82nd floor of the CE Tower – the tallest building in Jefferson – at the forty-story tower below him that had just been redesignated BunnyPalace. While CE would not be in direct competition with CBBC, the arrival of the large Allanean corporation had caused a buzz within the company. Myers, as head of the division that came closest to competing with CBBC – and which would be competing with the big Allanean retailers if they decided to open up in the country – he was put in charge of developing the company’s strategy for responding to the Allaneans.

Myers tapped the earpiece that he almost always wore in the office. “Yes, Mr. Myers?” The voice of his secretary sounded in his ear from the tiny mobile phone.

“Yes, Bea, please call over to CBBC and arrange a meeting with their top executive – I think his name is Kravis…” Better to meet the enemy face-to-face and size them up.

(OOC: Still game to continue?)

Kravis arranged the meeting to happen in the first branch of CBBC in New Virginia – a three-floor BunnyPalace, gleaming with glass and lights. It was probably the biggest fast-food restaurant that his competitor would have ever seen.

On the third floor, there would be a private table waiting, separated from the usual parts of the restaurant. Through the wall-high glass window, they could observe the lights of the city as they moved and rearranged themselves, like the lights of the glowing fish on the bottom of the sea.

And of course, there were burgers.

Jefferson, Sovereign State of New Virginia, C.S.S.

Allan Myers strode confidently into the private dining room the three-storey Cute Bunny Burger restaurant. He had hosted many business partners – and adversaries – for dinner at CE Tower. Such dinners were usually held in the exquisitely decorated executive dining room at the top of the tower, where seven course gourmet dinners were served with all of Jefferson literally at your feet. So, while he had never had a business dinner had a fast food joint, he certainly recognized what Kravis was trying to do by hosting him on his turf according to his rules.

Being on the “other guy’s turf,” however, didn’t bother Myers or prevent him from putting a broad smile on his face and walking right up to Kravis and offering his hand.

“Mr. Kravis,” he said cheerily, “Allan Myers, VP for General Retail, Confederated Enterprises. Welcome to the C.S.S. It’s a pleasure to meet you.” Myers showily looked around and nodded. “Impressive place. You’ve certainly announced your presence with quite a splash, Mr. Kravis.”

“Oh no, Sir. This is not yet a splash. A splash is what we are going to have when we really find out what the people here are like. But before we go in here, I would like to ask you Sir: What do you think of our company's operations so far?”

He smiled.

“Please, do not see us as enemies. We believe that in a free market – and that here is a free market – there's enough place for all players to prosper. As such, again, we would like you to see us as colleagues – not enemies.”

Good. Testing the waters

(Posting as the C.S.S.)

Allan Myers returned Kravis’ smile with a toothy, almost shark-like smile of his own. “We are big believers in the Market at CE. Most citizens in the Confederation support free enterprise and more and more are coming to embrace the power – and freedom – of the Market.” Myers decided as he spoke that he would leave behind one of the Order’s pamphlets on the Market when he left.

“We do not see you as enemies, Mr. Kravis, I assure you,” he said, still smiling. “We see other actors in the Market as competitors, allies, opportunities; all doing the bidding of the Market.”

Myers looked around. “I must say, though, that if this isn’t a splash, I am eager to see how your company makes a splash.” He turned back to Kravis. “You have certainly entered the Market here boldly; we admire that. And so will the citizens. However, to really catch on – to really make that big splash of yours – you’ll need to be able to deliver what the people want. And here, there is no one ‘people;’ each State, almost every county in every State, is a microenvironment with its own history, its own culture… its own needs.”

Myers turned towards the table. “Shall we continue our discussion over this fine meal?”

Kravis nodded. “I couldn’t agree more. The Market is the great pacifier of mankind, bringing cooperation and peace to all who wish it. In short – and I am sure you would agree – God bless the Market.”

He paused – “I don’t know if you follow the doctrines of this group they have here, the Cult of the Invisible Hand – ew, what a name, I truly loathe the word ‘cult’- at any rate, these people, they have a point here. No offense if you don’t share their beliefs, I’m not a member – but they certainly seem like nice people to me.

He paused.

“And as for the local tastes - I assure you we’re already working on it.”

* * *

Indeed they were. While the Excalbian and Allanean chatted, elsewhere in the building, dozens of people were at work – putting up advertisements on the Internet seeking franchisees, and talking to local polling companies to establish what the tastes of the locals were.

They already decided that the franchise system would be best – it would enable the local owners of the franchises to accommodate for the local tastes and varieties better ,while pumping precious franchise money through the veins and arteries of CBBC.

In the meanwhile, Taggart Trains came to C.S.S. too – not opening trains through, but passenger bus lines. Soon, black, sleek buses with the words TT on the front began to appear on the local streets.

Myers smiled. He was not certain, but he suspected that Kravis suspected he was a member of the Order and was either trying to ingratiate himself by praising it – God bless the Market, indeed – or he was fishing for confirmation that Myers was, in fact, a member of the Order.

“Although I am an agnostic in matters of divinity, I take your point, Mr. Kravis,” Myers said pleasantly. “The Market has always had the power to do what politicians, planers, popes and generals have failed to do – rationally allocate resources so as to grant the highest standard of living to the greatest number of people in a peaceful and orderly fashion.”

Myers pulled a small pamphlet out of his jacket pocket and handed it to Kravis. “The Order of the Invisible Hand is called a cult only by its enemies, my good sir. Some of tried to style it a church to make it more palatable to the religionists. However, I prefer to think of it as a philosophy and a guide to a successful and happy life of freedom, quite apart from anyone’s individual thoughts on deity.”

“Now,” Myers said cheerily, “I am quite curious as to what adaptations you plan to account for local tastes. As you noted, we are not direct competitors…”

“So you’re a member of that organization. This is excellent, Sir. The power of the Order here is one of the reasons I have so gladly chosen an appointment here. I will indeed consider joining – although I heard the Order has no formal organization. Is that any kind of true? There is an actual Order for me to join, right? My information sources were kind of… contradicting each other on that.”

The Allanean continued.

“And about the changes, that remains to be seen. Adaptations in the menu, the interior design of the restaurants, even possibly the dress of the waiters. You will still be able to get our signature BunnyBurger, but by and large it’s local food and local tastes that we’ll focus on.”