The Fifth Civilization: A Novel (33 page)

“Most likely there is a pack animal nearby.”

“Well, which direction? We need dinner.”

“I don’t think we need to worry about that at the
moment.”
 
David was staring at
something. At first, Roan thought David was just standing rigid after hearing a
sound, but when Roan heard a snap in front of him, he darted his eyes to the
foliage and suddenly everything was illuminated.

“Oh shit.”

A gathering of camouflaged warriors was barely two yards in
front of Roan, most flat on their stomachs but with the whites of their eyes
plainly visible. Their brownish fur could have been patches of dirt and Roan
would not have noticed, and many of them seemed to carry green knapsacks that
passed easily for leaves and plants. And that was just what Roan had time to
notice in the few seconds before he saw the spears and bows sticking out from
the grass. Everything unfolded before Roan could even get a proper look at the
natives.

Grasping David’s shoulder, Roan slowly moved back. But the
further back he moved, the quicker the warriors moved from their prone position
to an upright one. Arrows were extended toward them. Spears waved menacingly in
the air. Even with his rifle Roan didn’t feel safe. He stopped walking,
thinking it best to avoid any sudden moves.

Once all the warriors were out from their camouflage, Roan
could get a better sense of their bodies. They were vaguely canine-like, about
as tall as an average human but skinnier, and seemed to be covered in both fur
and a scaly membrane. Forget what he said about David being a dog.

“David, what should we do?”

“Mr. Roan, I have no experience in this situation. Standing
here is probably the safest option, unless they intend to kill us.”

“Do you think they want to do that?”

“After what happened when they met the Kotarans, it would be
an understandable opinion. Do not make any threatening moves.”

Why did first contact always have to come at the point of
spear?

Roan kept his rifle aimed the natives, just to be sure. There
were six of them standing around facing the outsiders. None appeared
frightened. These things had the full confidence of hunters who were safe in
their own terrain. And who had safety in numbers.

Weapons were pointed every which way. It was turning into a
Bauxen standoff.

***

The creatures were talking, Two Mountains noticed, and they
were much more hesitant to act than the ones they noticed near the
grassa
. He kept his arrow trained on
them just in case. Oddly, these creatures were very different than the violent
ones they encountered in the clearing. The one on the left was the color of
sunlight and the much taller one was the color of the daytime sky. The
sunlight’s one’s skin appeared smooth, while the skyskin’s one appeared
feathery, like a bird. Could he have been the one that flew over the party
during the night? Possibly, yet Two Mountains saw no wings.

A lightning club was in the hands of the shorter one. While
not as big as the killers’ clubs, it was recognizable as the same kind of
weapon. This was the reason Two Mountains kept his arrow on the two. There
wasn’t going to be any repeat of the slayings. He called for his warriors to
continue standing their ground, and to wait for his command.

“Do they understand us?”
 
one warrior asked.

Two Mountains decided to find out. “Strangers! Tell us who
you are!”
 
While appearing surprised
at this command, the two outsiders did not respond, only talked in quieter
tones. “Answer! Do you wish to be killed?”
 
Again, nothing but a silence from the two.

“It appears not,” observed the warrior. “Two Mountains, we
should kill them.”

“I agree,” said another warrior. “Who cares where they came
from? They were with the creatures that killed our warriors. Killing is the
least of what they deserve.”

Two Mountains wasn’t so sure. True, the men had lightning
clubs. And true, they were outsiders, appearing on the same day as the ones who
slaughtered his party. But why did they look different? And why were they
traveling apart from the violent creatures, coming from a different direction?
Either he could listen to his reactionary warriors, or he could try and figure
out from where these strangers hailed.

He wasn’t letting down his guard, of course. Two Mountains
motioned to the ground. “Weapons down!”
 
he yelled. “Put down the lightning club!”

***

“He wants you to put down your rifle,” David said. Focused on
the lead warrior making the commands, Roan could only reply to the comment with
a “huh?”
 
His finger had made its
way to the trigger and was ready to spasm at any time. The lead warrior did not
appear concerned by this, as his eyes had narrowed to intense, greenish slits,
and his tail was stiff in the air behind him.

“Nick Roan, put down your gun!” David said, almost screaming
it. Roan did as he was told, finally comprehending the instruction. The arrow
of the warrior tracked him to the ground as he bent and placed the rifle on the
grass. Always thinking ahead, David had his hands up in the air, and Roan
thought that was a sensible move. Palms outward, Roan mimicked the Nyden and
hoped the meaning of this sign transcended planets and cultures.

***

Both strangers had their hands up in the air. Since the pale
man had left his club on the ground, this gesture was probably intended as a
signal of surrender rather than a greeting of some kind. Two Mountains took a
chance and inched forward, his arrow leading the way.

“If they make a quick move, kill them!” Two Mountains
screamed. When he got close enough to the short man to poke him with the arrow,
he studied the stranger’s face. Hair was growing around his mouth, much like
the whiskers of their tribe. On the other man, whom Two Mountains cast a quick
glance, he noticed a smaller nose and the same feathers that covered the rest
of his body. Strange that these people would appear similar enough to Two
Mountain’s people, but that was probably the way of God.

“Who are you?” Two Mountains roared. Pants and heavy
breathing could be heard from the short man, while the taller one’s head was
shining the color of night. Truly, these were mystifying and fascinating
beings.

***

Roan got the gist of the alien’s bark. “I think he’s asking
us who we are!”

“Wouldn’t you, Nick?”
 
The alien became agitated and repeated his saying again, which sounded
like
mesun’to
! Obviously, he didn’t
like the two of them talking amongst themselves and not to him.

“I guess we should tell him.”
 
Roan cleared his throat, which startled
the warrior. He jabbed the tip of his arrow into Roan’s chest again, which made
the human back up ever so slightly. “Roan,” he said, firmly. “Nicholas Roan. I
am a human. From Earth.”

David said something in his language, of which Roan caught
the word “David.”
 
Then, in English:
“I am David. From Nydaya.”

Clearly, this was going nowhere, because the alien had never
heard English and was not going to understand his words. His mouth stretched
back, and if Roan had to guess he might say it was an expression of
bewilderment. If these natives had any sort of reasoning or problem-solving
skills, they would realize that interrogation under threat was useless. Come
on, buddy, thought Roan, we’re answering your questions.

“Please, get that spear out of my face,” Roan said, but it
was to no avail.

***

“What should we do?”

“I don’t know,” Two Mountains called back. Faced with the
apparent surrender of these two men, he was honor-bound not to kill them. If an
opponent showed willingness to end a fight, then he should be allowed to end
it. But what if it was a trick? After all, the creatures he encountered earlier
had done a similar tactic.

Two Mountains backed up several paces. He thought it best
not to have his arrow sticking in to the chest of a surrendering opponent. And,
surprising even himself, he lowered it. Murmurs of discontent could be heard behind
him, but he silenced it with a quick hush. If he was chosen by the Chiefs to be
a leader, then he
was
the leader.
What he did was supposed to make sense. Anyone who didn’t follow that code was dishonorable.

“Two Mountains,” the warrior said, punctuating his name with
a thump of his chest. These two were from a tribe he did not yet understand,
from a land he did not know. On the rare occasions when this had happened
before, it was common to greet another with your name. Grimly, Two Mountains
recalled that in all those past occasions, those of different tribes had at
least looked almost identical to himself.

The short one said something to the taller one, through
which the blue man responded. The short man directed his attention back to Two
Mountains, and the warrior assumed the tall feathery one was some kind of
teacher.

“
Nikrun
,” the man
said. His name, Two Mountains gathered. And then, the blue one: “David.”
 
So, if everyone was assuming the correct
interpretations of the other’s gestures, the short sunlight one was
Nikrun
and the tall one was David.

“We come from a land called Hedda, beyond the Valley,” Two
Mountains said, pointing behind him, to the trees. “We walked here, after
seeing a light in the sky.”
 
He
gestured to the sky with his thin hand, waving around as if to indicate the
stars.

Nikrun
seemed to
know what was being discussed and he gestured into the sky as well, bringing
his hands down flat and making a noise like a great crash. Then he bobbed his
head in a most unusual gesture. This seemed to be indicating Two Mountains was
correct in assuming they came from the sky, but what did the bobbing head mean?
David put his hand on
Nikrun’s
shoulder and said something in their language, before turning to Two Mountains
and patting both
Nikrun
and his own
body. Then, he gestured to the sky, and finally brought his hands down and
patted himself and
Nikrun
again.

So, they were from the sky. This was actually leading
somewhere.

***

“I think they saw us land,” Roan said. “They might’ve seen
the shuttle, or maybe the battle in orbit, last night.”
 
He thought of Kel, but repressed the
thought.

“I think you’re right, Nick. Now we just need to show that
we are in need.”
 
David gestured to
the cliffs, visible in the distance but still a good walk away. Through a
series of gestures, indicating sleep and also the round entrance to the cave,
he conveyed where they were staying. As he did so, he narrated, but in his
Nyden language. The natives couldn’t tell the difference, anyway, and Roan
already knew the gist of what he was discussing.

***

David gestured in an odd fashion, putting his head on his
hands and pointing to the cliffs. Initially, Two Mountains was confused as to
what he was signaling, but when he made a semi-circle around over his body, the
warrior knew he meant they were sheltering in the caves of the yellow cliffs.
During this translation, a few of the warriors had crept next to Two Mountains,
though their weapons were still at the ready.

“What are they saying?” asked one.

“I believe they mean they are living in the caves,” Two
Mountains said.

“There are no spirits or angels in the caves,” the warrior
replied. “There was a hunting party out there last year. None were seen.”

“Perhaps they are new arrivals,” Two Mountains said. David
was now gesturing to the caves. Two Mountains was wary of being led away,
especially to an enclosed place, but it intrigued him why they were there. The
caves were the only place of shelter nearby, and the warrior group needed to
head there, anyway. Once these two and the hunting party were safe, it only
made sense that Two Mountains could try and get answers to the questions he
sought. If not, and their intentions were hostile, they would kill these
strangers.

“Warriors, listen: we are heading to the caves.
Circumstances have led to both of our groups converging there. God has ordained
this, I believe. God wanted us to meet.”

“What about those other creatures?” someone protested. “What
if they’re working together? What if they’re leading us to an ambush?”

“Risk is always a part of life,” Two Mountains said. “If we
die, we will expire on a holy mission, and not without exacting a price on
these people.”
 
There was a chorus
of agreement, and Two Mountains gestured to the cliffs.
Nikrun
and David appeared to understand that they should walk to
it, and began to do so. Two Mountains did not argue as
Nikrun
picked up his lightning club, and turned to the wounded All
Roar. Unfortunately, the second was unmoving and devoid of any color. One of
the warriors who carried him let out a long sigh, a sign of loss.

“We must continue,” Two Mountains commanded, knowing the two
strangers were heading away from them. “The forest will take care of All
Roar.”
 
The warriors acknowledged
their leader, and they set out behind the outsiders, leaving the body behind.

Either I die or I will learn something extraordinary, Two
Mountains told himself. He prayed to God with his thoughts, asking that All
Roar be remembered and honored for his actions—along with the surviving
warriors. This awake period had been most trying.

On a slab in the
Hanyek
’s
medical suite lay the corpse of one the dead natives. The beast was
unfortunately starting to smell like rotten meat, and Grinek had to force
himself not to cover his snout. He must appear strong, in control. Instead, Grinek
bunched his nose and turned his attention to the doctor, whose own snout was
hidden by a medical mask. The man had just finished probing the body with his
tools.

“Dead of an energy burst, Commander. Severe burns and trauma
to the chest.”

“I know,
I
was the
one that killed him. What you must tell me are your opinions of the body. Is
his species related to ours? To any of the Four Civilizations, even?”

“It’s too soon to tell,” the doctor replied, hands out to
suggest an unanswerable question. “I have to run some tests, perhaps compare
the DNA with our own, and
then
check
it with those samples stored from Earthmen, Bauxens, and Nydens. That may take
some hours. Unfortunately, we don’t know anything about the natural history of
this planet. We can’t determine how old this species is from just one corpse
or, even a thousand. A archaeology team will have to excavate the land to see
if they are older than us Kotarans.”

Grinek sighed. “They can’t be older than us. Look how
primitive they are.”

“You’d be surprised, sir, at how some cultures stay static
and others regress. Now, Commander, all of this is going to take some time. I
only have theoretical experience with xenobiology. Without the data the
Earthman scientist collected, analysis of the native genome could take days or
weeks.”

Arguing with doctors was never Grinek’s specialty. Usually,
they were the only ones who could stand up to the Commander, informing him that
his blood pressure exceeded that of a gas giant. One doctor back on Kotara said
his anger would kill him someday. He was probably right, though Grinek
preferred a sword through his heart than natural causes.

“Doctor, here is the situation: you have a limited amount of
time. You have one day to make the comparisons. I want to include your findings
in my first message back to Kotara.”

“One
day
?”

“Yes. I suggest you get started.”
 
Grinek leaned over to the corpse and
gave a look at its naked body. The thing had lots of biological and anatomical
similarities to Kotarans, but was just evolved from a separate dumb animal. Judging
by the results of their encounter, the natives’ intelligence hadn’t increased
since the days they were hobbling around on all fours. Grinek couldn’t stand
the smell any longer, so he stormed out of the medical suite.

He wasn’t walking for more than two seconds when the
political aide found him in the hallway. The man was nearly leaping down the
hall, so eager was he to catch up with the Commander.

“Sir, Observer Vorjos once again wishes to set foot on the
planet.”

“Does he?”

“Yes, sir. As an official of the Ruling Council, he insists
he is entitled to the honor. The Observer promises to do so under guard and
with strict supervision by yourself.”

Grinek was headed to the bridge to check on the progress of
Roh’s reconnaissance mission, but he realized that if anything important were
to be relayed to him, the crew would find a way to do so. Vorjos was more
annoying than harmful, and Grinek
had
avoided him since Bauxa. Why not give in to his demands and keep him from
painting an entirely negative portrait of Grinek when they got back?

“Fine. Send two guards to accompany him—and not his
own bodyguard. Meet me down at the exit ramp as soon as possible.”

“Yes, sir.”
 
The
crewman sprinted down the hallway.

Grinek walked to the exit ramp, still extended to the ground.
A few crewmen were working on the underbelly of the ship, making minor repairs,
while other Kotarans walked the edge of the clearing, setting up motion sensors
on tripods. No one had seen any movement in the trees, except branches swaying
in the breeze, but if anyone came close to the
Hanyek
, the ship would know immediately.

After two minutes, Grinek heard voices at the top of the
ramp, and Vorjos appeared, flanked by two burly security men of Grinek’s own
detail.

“Commander,” Vorjos said.

“Observer.”
 
Vorjos looked weak—much more so than usual. Made gaunt from a
meager supply of food, the Observer was being held by the guards, not to keep
him from escaping but to keep him from falling. His once-grey hair with hints of
black was now completely black, and he walked with a stagger, either from
barely using his legs or from drunkenness. Trailing behind him was his
grotesque tail, now without much muscle fat. Grinek had been wise to keep the
Observer’s room well stocked with alcohol because doing so would keep the man
occupied with things other than subversion.

“Please, come join me on Somoresh,” Grinek said, gesturing
to the space of land at the bottom of the ramp. Cautiously, and without the aid
of the two guards at his side, Vorjos came down the ramp and to Grinek’s side.
More than once, he appeared nearly ready to tumble down the ramp, but he had
caught himself on the railing.

The politician stepped down on the wet grass. Stepping on
solid ground for the first time since they left Kotara, Vorjos did not let go
of the railing. He was not used to such soft surfaces. Furthermore, he touched
the soil with the sole of the boot as if he were testing the waters of a
scalding bath.

“You called it Somoresh,” Vorjos observed. “Any significance
to that label?”

“Merely a mythological homage, Observer. You know I don’t
believe in that
ghin
nonsense. But
don’t you think such a name will go over well with the people?”

Vorjos’ ears swept backward. “Has anyone told you what a
calculating beast you are, Grinek?”

Grinek allowed himself a very small chuckle. “Many
times.”
 

Still holding onto the railing, Vorjos adjusted his position
to get a better view of the trees. That was all there was to see, actually, and
Vorjos wasn’t going to be going out onto the greater planet, even if Grinek
allowed it. He was simply too feeble. “This is a remarkable find, Grinek, I
must admit. I heard of your encounter with the natives. Even without the
science linking it to the rest of the galactic species, it is historic that you
have found the Fifth Civilization.”

“Of course, Observer. We’ve been documenting the expedition
every step of the way. This voyage is destined to become legend.”

“The Council will approve.”
 
Vorjos nearly tumbled, his legs still
unsure of themselves. Grinek did not offer a hand as Vorjos used the railing to
climb back on the ramp. So he was going to be going back up nearly as soon as
he arrived. “Most enjoyable,” Vorjos said, “setting foot on another world. Too bad
we don’t have the information from the Earth ship to help us.”

“Excuse me, Observer? They led us to this world. Their
usefulness was exhausted.”

“Maybe so, Commander. Or maybe they had scientific
information that we could use to compare with our own. And maybe keeping them
alive would have allowed us to project an aura of benevolence and made other
species more willing to work with Kotarans.”
 
As an insult, the Observer was walking
away from Grinek as he spoke.

“And why would we want that, Observer?”
 
Vorjos had to know that Grinek was the
one in charge on this mission, not any diplomats.

Vorjos halted, ever so briefly, and wagged his weak tail in
a shrug. “Whatever you wish, Commander. This is your expedition.”
 
He continued his walk up the ship. Grinek
came to the realization that Vorjos might not know about the missing shuttle
and the Earthmen, and thought it possible that Vorjos might have had a point.
The Earthmen might still have scientific information with them that could
easily prove the natives’ link to the other civilizations. All the more reason
they should be found without delay.

He reached for his com and called Roh. The specialist was to
immediately step up his search of the planet.