Desaparecidos

© by Eric Costello


(Based on the universe that Meredith d’Estcourt and Varan g’Raf play in. Posted by permission. The thumbnail is the Dutch steamer 'Barouw,' thrown inland and beached by a tsunami during the 1883 eruption of Krakatoa.)



The burial service for the old wolf had been a total fiasco. A sorry ending, I thought, to a way of life.

Much of the trouble had been over his uniform. Or, rather, what was left of it, after eighty-seven-odd solar calendar units. Long after most furs in the Settlements had abandoned the regular use of clothing, owing to shortages, he had continued to wear the uniform proudly. He had told me on many occasions that when (not "if," mark you, "when") we were to be rescued, he didn't want any delays into changing into his kit. And so, when he drew his last breath, he was still wearing a few rags, long since faded by the sun from their original hunter-green to a sort of pale, washed-out colour.

His descendants, along with many of the other furs in the Outer Settlements, were obstinate in that he should be buried in his fur, "as we all go." The old canine's evident wishes notwithstanding. I tried mightily to convince them of this, but they refused to give way, and in the end, I had to. But I put my hoof down with regard to the Final Salute. That was happening whether they liked it or not, since that was in the power of the Committee to decide, and as Conducator, I carried out the decisions of the Committee.

Which led, directly, to the other part of the fiasco. When the Sergeant-at-Arms attempted to fire the energy weapon, nothing happened. He grew more and more flustered as the implement failed to respond. In exasperation, I took it from him and tried, and only got a feeble warbling, indicating that the storage component was empty. To the loud and unconcealed mirth of the Outer Settlement furs, whose laughter was still ringing in my ears as my outrigger canoe was being paddled across the Great Eastern Strait.

The Sergeant-at-Arms shuffled his hooves, and after a long period of pained silence, spoke to me.

"I'm...I'm sorry I let you down, Conducator."

My first reaction was to snort loudly and glare at him through my monocle, but I saw the look of honest anguish and shame on his muzzle, and relented. Was it that long ago that I, myself, had served my own grand-sire, the first Conducator? Speak of ears ringing; I fancied I could still feel a blow or two in punishment for the sins of my callow youth.

"It's Grand-sire. We're not on parade, I won't hold you to that."

The young fellow looked relieved, at least briefly. He then bit his lip. "Mother says you wanted to make the old wolf's burial a big show..."

"Of course I did, boy, of course I did! He was the last of the Off-Worlders. It's the end of an era."

An era that had begun eighty-seven years before. On board the vessel that was looming ever-larger as we got closer to the Main Island.

I knew all of the statistics regarding the ship. I'd read the old builder's plates, and the well-thumbed manuals, any number of times since I'd been young. Length: 750 meters. Beam: 85 meters. Installed power: four double-expansion sodium reactors. Crew: 100. Passengers: 4,900. Built for Trans-Stellar Spaceways, whose faded winged-comet logo could still be seen on the very top of the hulk. A hulk that had been brought down into the atmosphere of the planet with a great deal of skill and landed, very roughly but intact, upon one of the few significant pieces of flat land to be found anywhere on a planet that seemed to be nearly all water, with one lonely archipelago. A group of islands that had been home for a few thousand souls, ever since.

The canoe was beached, and my grand-fawn and I exited the craft, and made our way to the pellator at the very bottom of the Tau Beta. It was one of the few elements of the ship that was both still operable, and actually kept operable.

The atomic reactors had long since cooled and had fallen silent, and such things that were powered were powered by a series of solar panels, whose operation had become increasingly haphazard owing to wear and tear.

Just as well, I suppose, that the Tau Beta was nearly totally deserted. Initially, the passengers had kept to the ship from Planetfall Day. Slowly, however, as it became apparent that rescue was not at paw, and in ones and twos, furs began to move out, and to the outer islands of the world that was called "Tempest." My grand-sire had told me he had named it after an ancient Terran story, though I'd not been able to locate that work by the time the library was shut down.

Planetfall had occurred, it was thought at the time, because of a series of extraordinarily violent bursts of solar activity from the twin suns of the system had interfered with the Tau Beta's instruments. It may have been that these same flares were what prevented the ship's communications gear from sending and receiving transmissions. "May have been," I say, because of late, I had suspicions of the enthusiasm of some furs for communication. I certainly had positive proof of the ignorance of the bulk of the rest.

With much creaking and groaning, the pellator delivered my grand-fawn and me to what had been, in years past, the captain's quarters. When the old captain had passed on, still hoping that he would be able to turn over his ship in accordance with TSS reguulations, the space was turned over to my grand-sire, the first conducator. And, eventually, to me, the second conducator. And perhaps the last.

Not that there had been serious problems of order on Tempest. Food, for example, was not an issue. Small as they were, the islands produced sufficient quantities of nuts, berries and fruits to assuage any hunger pangs the seaweed did not fill for the vegetarians. Carnivores and omnivores had their choice of feral birds (and their eggs), shellfish, and various fish. Given that it seemed to rain, overnight, practically every day, no fur thirsted.

"Welcome back, conducator." Even if we were alone, my mate still greeted me in a formal, respectful manner. I returned the gesture with a kiss and an embrace, before she helped me out of my clothes. Once that was accomplished, she carefully folded them, and put them away in the cedar box.

They were, in a very literal sense, irreplaceable.

Clothes were the first problem, of course. Even though the passengers all had trunks and bags, not many of the clothes were suitable for moving about in jungle and over water. Still, many kept up appearances, until the silks tore, and the cottons grew ragged. At that point, shame was put to the winds, and with a few exceptions (such as the Old Wolf and the Purser, who was the last of the crew to die off), furs went naked, in whole or in part.

Given our family's position, it was felt that we had to set an example, and it was only in recent years, when I was down to my last suit, that I had to grudgingly follow the example of the furs-at-large.

Over time, though, other issues started to emerge. Don't get me wrong: these were not threatening to life and limb, by any means. But they were far-reaching in effects.

The Chief Engineer and his staff (while they still lived) tried mightily to keep the reactors and the solar panels running, with more success in the latter than in the former. It did help that whole sections of the Tau Beta were closed off as the quarters emptied, but as the supply of power grew shorter and shorter, more and more of the ship went dark and cold.

The Conducator's Quarters, the nearby conference room, the bridge, and the pellator were for the most part the only powered areas left on board. The rest had been left to encroaching sand and rust. It had been years since I had visited the First Class Dining Saloon, and when I last saw it, the decrepit state it had descended to had bothered me so heartily my mate hid the mechanical keys to it.

I looked out the window of the Quarters, to see the position of the twin suns. Another merciful thing about Tempest was that the temperature was regular and consistent, quite bearable, in spite of the twin suns. Though it did make telling time and keeping track of the days somewhat difficult.

"The Committee meeting will be starting shortly, conducator. Eat something first, and then go."

My mate, who was wise in this sort of thing, proffered a plate (TSS logo still visible on it) with slices of breadfruit. This, I took with me down the hall to the conference room.

The conference room also had windows that looked out onto Tempest; at one time, it had been where the crew met with the Captain to receive orders. Now, it held a large glass table with nine very worn chairs (also with TSS logo still visible), one for the conducator, and the rest for the members of the Committee: Security, Technology, Astronomy, Agriculture, Fishery, Economics, Education and Welfare.

Before my place, there was a square of wood which was filled with wax. Padds, of course, had gone years ago, as had paper. Tempest was rapidly becoming an oral society. Which was part of the problem.

The first agenda item highlighted this:

"Reform of the Curriculum"

Education was a rather youngish gorilla femme, a Fifth Generation fur, and one that had Ideas. Ideas that did not include standard courses on the sciences, on mathematics, and on history. "Outdated," was her argument. "Not relevant to today's needs, say many."

The voices that had been in favor of the old ways were growing quieter, those that were not stilled altogether by nature. Once, Planetfall Day had brought the entire population of Tempest together to remember. Remember home worlds. Remember families that were probably wondering where their loved ones had gone. Remembering lost joys and opportunities.

Now? The last Planetfall Day celebrations had barely brought out three hundred souls, out of a total population of perhaps six thousand scattered in the Archipelago. And with a few exceptions, like my grand-fawn, there wasn't a fur to be seen that didn't already have streaks of grey in their fur.

Once, it had been a joke that the galaxy was where the gods were. During my argument over the Old Wolf's funeral rites, I heard serious arguments that the Old Wolf was to return naked to the gods that made him.

I had every notion that this vote on "Reform," and I use those quotes sarcastically, would likely be a vote of confidence in my role as conducator. Economics was useless, of course, as was Welfare. And few furs outdid the fisher-furs for sheer superstition and increasing distrust of the "metal things." Metal things, I ask you! Things that their great-grandsires had used without thinking.

Which, of course, brought it down to Agriculture. Security, Technology and Astronomy were firmly on my side, as the furs there were direct descendants of crew members. But Agriculture was a wavering fur, and Fishery had been putting a great deal of pressure on him. I was not, in all honesty, confident in the outcome.

One by one, the members of the Committee began filing into the room. Or, at least, most of them. Security saluted. He was the only fur to look me square in the eyes, with one other exception. The other furs took their seats with mumbled greetings. The last fur to enter was Education, who swaggered in, sizing up my chair to see if it would suit her. Judging from her expression, she thought it did.

"And how," she asked smoothly, "did the obsequies go this day?"

I fixed my monocle in my eye. Absurd, in a sense, since we were all naked, and once upon a time, in all honesty, it was an affectation. At my age, however, it had become increasingly a necessity. Besides, it did help with my glaring.

"I sent the Old Wolf off with the honour he deserved," I responded stiffly.

"I'm certain you did...conducator." So saying, she sat herself down, and looked around. The absence of Technology and Astronomy didn't faze her in the least. After all, according to the Standing Rules, which had been printed out before the holo-linos went out of service, a quorum was five of the eight Committee members, other than the conducator, and that was reached.

With an outstretched finger, I tapped a large brass bell that was behind me (yet another object with a TSS logo, this one just visible underneath the tarnish). "This meeting is called to order. Sergeant-at-Arms, call the roll."

With a quavering voice, my grand-fawn called the roll. As before, two members absent.

"I suggest, conducator, the presence of a quorum," purred Education.

"You are out of order," I stated, and then noted for the record that a quorum was present, and brought up old business.

The members looked at each other, and there was the slow shuffling of footpads, hooves and the faint swish of tailfur.

"There being no old business, we shall proceed to new business. Turning to..."

The grin on the muzzle of Education was cut short, violently, by an appalling blast of noise that reverberated through the conference room, causing more than a few of the members of the Committee to jump out of their seats. The noise subsisted to an unpleasant howl, followed by an over-magnified voice.

"What in blazes is THAT row?" commented Fishery, who was the youngest fur on the Committee, and the first of the Sixth Generation.

"CONDUCATOR, YOU MUST COME TO THE BRIDGE IMMEDIATELY! IT IS URGENT!"

A few of the furs on the Committee rubbed at their ears painfully, and frantically craned their necks, looking for the source of the noise. Only Security and I knew what it was: the vessel's tannoy. I was, frankly, amazed it was still working. I hadn't heard it used in years.

Mind you, I needed Security's help in finding the response button, which shocked me unpleasantly when I pressed the button.

"This is the conducator. Kindly turn down the volume, and explain who you are and what you want."

The noise, while still shrill and tinny, became a bit less aggravating.

"It's Technology, conducator. I'm here with Astronomy, on the bridge. You must come here, at once! To the bridge!"

"I heard you the first time. We're in meeting. A meeting, I might add, that you are missing..."

"Please, conducator! It's urgent! It implicates the Standing Orders!"

This was a claim not to be taken lightly. The Standing Orders had been set by the Captain, and overrode everything else. Furthermore, they could not be changed, even if the Committee voted unanimously. The Captain's word had been Law.

"Rubbish." This snapped out by Education. "Obviously out of his mind. I move the first item on the agenda, which is the long-overdue..."

"You are out of order."

"What?!"

"You heard me, you are out of order. Standing Orders take precedence over all other business."

"But...that's. Rubbish, I say. How do we know these are Standing Orders?"

"Perhaps if we adjourn to the bridge, we'll find out."

"Preposterous. Boot-strapping. I won't stand for it. I demand a vote."

"You can't override Standing Orders."

"But you haven't," snapped Education, "shown that it's Standing Orders. Vote. Now." So saying, she crossed her arms and thrust out her chin.

Of all things, to lose on a procedural vote. I pressed the tannoy button. "Hold on, we have to discuss something." I turned to the Committee. "Fine. Let's vote. But it's still without precedent to violate the Standing Orders. Motion is to adjourn and reconvene on the bridge. Second?"

Security sat straight up in his chair and barked "Seconded!" This earned him an eye-roll from education, and an unpleasant adjective in the bargain. Well, that was two votes, anyway out of the seven, counting me. Fishery and Education quickly put in their votes, and Welfare, assisted by a kick under the table, added their vote.

There was a long period of silence, while both Economics and Agriculture thought things over. I waited for the knife to go home.

It didn't. The only fur more surprised than I was, was Education.

Economics harrumphed. "I have to say, I am curious what the row is all about. Don't think it'll make a whit of difference in the long-term. Go ahead and adjourn."

Agriculture quickly indicated that he agreed that there was nothing lost by an investigation. Quickly, before the evident Evil Eye of Education could be brought to bear.

"Vote is four to three for adjournment. We are adjourned, and we shall reconvene on the bridge in five minutes, to discuss the issue of Standing Orders. Or, rather, possible issue."

"Possible, fiddlesticks!" Education didn't take her procedural setback lying down.

The bridge was a vast area. My grand-sire told me that when the vessel was in operation, there was a vast array of lit dials and glowing panels that gave the area a warm, confident glow. Even with most of the remaining power supplies shunted to this area, whole areas of the bridge were dark and abandoned, save for a few stations. I mean, given how long the ship had been stuck in the sand, propulsion was hardly an issue.

Technology came bounding up, his tailfur bottled in emotion.

"Good heavens, I'm glad you've come! It's really extraordinary, most extraordinary!"

Astronomy came up gracefully behind him, and laid a gentle, massive paw on Technology's shoulder.

"Dear fellow," she said, "do let the meeting reconvene."

"Eh? What? Oh! Oh. Meeting. Yes. Quite."

The Committee, now all present, assumed various chairs scattered across the bridge, and I declared the meeting back in order.

"I call upon Astronomy and/or Technology to explain their recent communication to the Committee..."

Technology was on the verge of excited babble, but was once again restrained by his colleague's gentle bulk.

"I think, she said, "the members of the Committee should first look through the star-finding optics."

Many were baffled by this. Fishery, for one, was deeply suspicious, and announced he wasn't going anywhere near a fell machine. One again, Economics, with rather more intellectual curiousity than I would have expected from an economist, harrumphed and said he would be willing to have a peek, but what was he supposed to be looking at?

"This way, sir. Let me put the filters on, though, lest you blind yourself...there. What do you see?"

Economics took his spectacles (a family heirloom) off, and peered through the implements. some adjustments were made for him by Astronomy.

"I see...the two suns. Well, you've blocked most of them off with those discs. Don't want to blind me, eh?"

"And do you see anything?"

"Well, in fact, no I don't. Nothing at all."

"Thank you. Now will the rest of you come up, and tell me what you see?"

All of us, save for Fishery, did so. When I took off my monocle and peered through the lenses, I saw what Economics had described. Education was contemptuous.

"Fine. All of us have seen nothing. If you are quite satisfied, we can go back to the agenda, having noted your discovery of nothing."

Astronomy was not put off by this display. "That is precisely what you are seeing. You are seeing nothing."

"Nothing, ma'am?" queried Security, scratching between his ears in puzzlement.

"Nothing. Nothing...inclusive of the lack of solar flares."

For me, the penny dropped, especially when I stole a glance at Technology, who was hopping around from foot to foot as if he had an urgent, unfulfilled need. Which he did: he was bursting to speak.

Education was frowning, baffled. "I don't follow."

The dam behind Technology's tongue burst. Without the aid of the tannoy, his voice rang loudly.

"It means...we can receive incoming communications! And maybe, just maybe, communicate out."

Slowly, something began to dawn on Education that was not to her liking. She saw her moment slipping.

"I fail to see how this implicates..."

"...the standing orders?" Astronomy completed her thought. "Standing Order Twenty-Seven. If at any time communications off-world are believed to be possible, the Captain or his designated successors shall make it the first priority of business to engage in attempts to contact." With a raised eyebrow, she added: "The conducator, as you know, is the lawful successor of the late Captain..."

"THANK you," was the responsive snarl.

"You're welcome." Turning to Technology, she pointed at one of the consoles.

He bounded over, and turned on a monitor. After a great deal of snow, and some fevered twiddling of dials and nobs, a picture slowly came into focus. It was poor quality, and the sound faded in and out, but what we saw was this: A leopardess (or similar species) in a rumpled uniform with the epaulets indicating some kind of high rank. Her eyes were wild and her headfur was a tangled mess. She strained at the pawcuffs behind her back and screeched insults at the two burly security guards flanking her. The two bears stolidly ignored her screams and kept a firm grip on her upper arms.

What's more, words appeared on the screen, which made the blood of many run cold, I think. I certainly could speak for myself. A million colonists, dead?

"I am not certain," harrumphed Economics, "that this is a state of affairs I'm particularly keen on injecting Tempest into."

"Evil," hissed Fisheries. "Blighted evil. Turn that off, now!"

Technology, after a glance first at Astronomy, and then me, acceded to the request.

Welfare raised a paw. "How do we know that outgoing communications work? It would seem to me that Standing Order 27 is moot if such communications are not, in fact, possible."

"There is," I said, "only one way to find out. This Committee is adjourned, and shall re-convene in one hour. You are all to attend in uniform or formal dress..."

Fishery exclaimed loudly he didn't have any such, but I cut him off. "Some will be lent to you. At such time as we reconvene, we will engage the transmitter and attempt contact." Sensing Education seething, I added: "This is not subject to a vote. I, the conducator, have spoken. That is all. Meeting adjourned."

As my grand-fawn the Sergeant-at-Arms walked back with me to our quarters, he gulped, nervously.

"Do you think...?"

"You heard what I said. There is only one way to find out."