The Fifth Civilization: A Novel (10 page)

There was a fire axe nestled in a cabinet, directly above an
extinguisher. It was going to have to serve as Roan’s key to the engineering
section. The computer had locked down the doors after getting input from the
cockpit, and while it could easily be overridden, doing so would give the
Kotaran more access than they could afford. Even if the doors were open for a
second, he could run into a critical control room for the
Colobus
’ systems.

Steel against steel tends to swing in favor of the sharper
blade, but Roan was finding the engineering door an especially difficult task.
He swung overhand, so the axe dug into the siding at a downward angle, but
apart from a few dents the action didn’t seem to be having the desired effect.
They didn’t teach you this stuff at flight school.

If only they still made doors out of wood.

Whoever was on the other side of the door surely heard the
clangs and had either moved on or was lying in wait to ambush Roan if he got
through. Roan discarded the axe and wiped his brow with his arm. The lack of
any kind of substantial meal all day was catching up to him now, and he
collapsed onto the floor in a squat. His was drained. The thought of fighting another
Kotaran was almost enough to make him pass out right there.

He pulled out his com. Time to check in.

“Tell me some good news, Kel.”

“There’s some. Our Kotaran’s trapped in-between two
sections. The control-half of engineering and the machinery-half, where the
core is located and the battery cells are charged. There hasn’t been breach of
any of the locked-down doors.”

“Tell me about it.”
 
Roan eyed his axe on the floor. “What are our options? Can you unlock
the doors but disable the computer systems in the engine room?”

“I’d love to, Nick, but I don’t want to give this guy even a
second more of access to this ship. He’s bottled up tight where he is. Let’s
just pray he can’t rewire the door controls.” Roan thought of the Kotaran
working the
Colobus
computers. Could
he even do that? Did the Kotaran even
read
English? Actually, it was a stupid question. If the Kotaran could sneak on
board a Type-B freighter and use the systems in the cockpit, he was probably a
pretty clever fellow.

Did he
speak
English?

Roan had an idea. There was a com panel next to the locked
and dented door, used for quick communication from workers in the cargo bay to
anywhere else in the ship. What he had in mind was a long shot. Those had
always been something of a specialty in the Roan family. It was a long shot to
make the California Exodus three centuries ago. It was a long shot to settle in
Tokyo. And it was a long shot for Nicholas to enroll in the military and then,
the Company.

But he had to try.

Roan stood and went to the com panel, pressing the extension
for the engineering room then hitting the “Talk” button.

“Hey!” he screamed into the device. “You, the Kotaran!”

He waited for a response: not for anything in particular, and
in reality, it was kind of foolish to expect an intruder to just come and
converse when he’s called.

“You’re surrounded, you know that? We’re going to get you
out of there dead or alive.”
 
He’d
seen holofilms called “Westerns,” which pertained to the deserts of Western
America before most of the country resembled one. There was always some lawman
talking about bringing in a fugitive “dead or alive,” and the phrase popped
into his head just then. What, was he trying to be an actor or something?
Christ.

“Look, Kotaran, you won’t get what you want. Your friends
are dead. I killed one of you guys already today. You may have heard of
me.”
 
Did Kotarans know fear? Did
they hear of his exploits earlier at Yuko Mall? Could he have a reputation
among them already?

Roan’s personal com beeped. He pulled it out and answered.

“Roan, there’s a problem.”
 
It was Kel again.

“Another one?”

“Actually, several. The indicators up here say that the
breach indicators in the engineering section are blinking like crazy. This Kotaran’s
trying to work his way through those doors somehow, and into the core room.”

“That’s a big uh-oh.”

“We’re communicating with an engineering officer who managed
to lock himself in a storage closet. He’s pretty afraid. Masao’s been talking
to him and apparently he can hear banging and the sound of something cutting
through metal.”

“The banging was probably from me. The cutting—well,
the Kotaran’s probably scorching his way through those metal doors.”

“The hidden engineer has some metal pipes but nothing much
to use as a weapon. If that Kotaran comes through the door he’s going to go
straight for the engines. And if his goal is to disable the ship, he can do it
in a few minutes. If he wants to
destroy
us, all he has to do is shoot the plutonium containment and the FTL goes up in
smoke—you know what happens then.”

“Let’s pray that all he wants is to hold us up.”

“It looks that way, actually.”
 
A few seconds pause as Kel conferred
with Masao on the other end. “We were able to get a signal out, try to call for
assistance from another ship, but I don’t think our calls got through.
Something behind us is jamming us. All external channels are blocked by
wide-spectrum interference.”

Roan cleared his throat. He feared what they would say next,
but he asked anyway. “What do the sensor readings say?”

“The sensors are being jammed, too, but we’re still able to
get some output. That’s limited to readings a few million kilometers in front
or behind us.”

“When did this jamming happen?”

“About ten minutes ago.”

“Has to be a long-range jammer. Military grade.” Not good.

Some more talking on the other end of the com. “I’d never
seen anything like it. Masao says—”

Some commotion and then apparently Masao took control. “It’s
a Kotaran ship, Nick. We’ve got a Kotaran ship following us. Goddamn, it’s just
like Sagittarius all over again.”

Roan remembered it well. It was the only time the
Dunnock
was ever boarded by an alien
party. The craft had come without warning, from their aft, obscured by the
energy from pulsar J0108. All their sensors went dead, and their power, too,
from some dampening weapon. The ship rattled from the hum of the Kotaran ship’s
engines, and out the viewscreen, he and Masao had watched as the sleek tactical
cruiser glided overhead, turning and halting over the
Dunnock
. By a stroke of incredible fortune, the Kotarans came and
left without harming anyone on board. They said they were looking for a
fugitive, a human trader, but upon finding none they hightailed it out of
there. There were no diplomatic incidents that day, though a few cases of
high-density microchips and processors (intended for New Lapland) were missing when
the Kotarans departed.

“You’re positive it’s a tactical cruiser, Masao?”

“When I’m right, I’m right. And I’m right, Nick. No way this
could be anything but one of their ships.”

“We could shoot off one of our probes and make sure.”

“Why waste the energy?”

Kotarans on board. Kotarans behind them. Seven-foot roaches
with the power of strangulation every which way. At least they had one trapped.

“I think it’s safe to say they’re going to want to stop us,”
Kel said. “They want some information. Whatever Aaron gave you, I think.”

Nick remembered the pad once again. That thing was causing
all sorts of trouble.

“Look, we know where one of them is,” Roan said. “He’s
trying to burrow into our core and do God knows what, and I need suggestions. I
could try following him but I’m not very keen on dying today.”

“We could blow the doors,” Masao suggested. “There might be
some mining explosives in the cargo containers. Or some powerful weapons. I
hear Orion’s running a bit of an arms-deal business on the side, with some
groups trying to get their hands on mercury rockets.”

“I can guarantee there’s nothing like that on board,” Kel
said.

“Let’s remove the air from engineering, then,” Roan asked.
“Kill him like a rat.”

“There’s a crewman still in there,” Kel said indignantly.
“I’m not going to suffocate him. Don’t you know how horrible a way to die that
is?”

“Better than being killed by a Kotaran saber,” Roan said. “We
might have to accept some sacrifices here. Cutting off life support may be our
only option.”

“Wait.”
 
Kel
paused. “What kind of chemicals do we have on board?”

Roan and Masao spoke at once, listing a few of the things
they carried. Canisters of oxygen and a few freshening agents. Several flame
retardants. Kel, also a senior officer, quickly rattled off a few cleaners and
disinfectants. Then, when she hit “Methanlycil,” she clapped and cheered, as if
she’d just won a prize.

“Methanlycil, an aerosol. They use that to polish the
interior of the ship when it’s in drydock. It’s nonlethal, if I recall.”

“Well, ideally you don’t want to
breathe
it,” Masao said. Roan heard a faint but audible bang from
the other side of the door. Possibly the Kotaran breaching the doors.

“But it’s stored topside in tanks,” Kel continued. “They
keep it there because periodically they want to clean the interior of the ship.
You can disperse it through the vents, no problem, and control what sections it
disperses in. What if we inundated the engineering section with Methanlycil?”

“It could work,” Roan said, holding the com to his chin in
thought. It was just the kind of crock scheme that a Roan would’ve
suggested—maybe she was taking a few of those Roan long shots, too. See,
another reason the two of them would be great together. She didn’t even have to
take his name, Roan thought, he could become Nick Streb or—

“Do we have any Metha-whatever?” Masao asked.

“Let’s check,” Kel said. Roan heard typing on the other end.
He tapped his foot impatiently, picturing the Kotaran breaking through the door
all the while. “Yes, it looks like they filled up the
Colobus
a few months ago and there’s still plenty in the tanks. I
think the engineering section could use a good disinfecting.”

“How long will that take you to set up?” Roan asked.

“A minute or two.”

“All right. Do it. Tell that crewman to cover his mouth or
something, the smell of that shit is awful.”
 
There was an acknowledgment on the other
end, and Roan hung up his com. He eyed the banged-up door, and smiled and the
thought of a Kotaran writhing and choking and then passing out on the other
side. He just hoped the dosage was enough to fell a three hundred-pound
towering alien, physiology differences and all.

“Earthman!” came a voice from the panel by the door.
“Earthman, answer me!”
 
It was a
voice in accented English, accompanied by a sharp bite. The Kotaran was responding
to Roan’s earlier requests. Roan cautiously worked his way to the panel and
pressed the talk button, as if he was steeling himself for what came from out
the other end.

“Yeah?”

“Are you captain?”

“No, but I do have the power to kick your ass.”

This shut him up for a brief second. He returned as
vitriolic as ever. “Your threat nothing. Soon you dead. Your whole race dead.”

“Somehow I doubt that.”

“You anger wills of Fox’Lo and Bar’Hail. You damned in all
your past and future lives.” Were Foxtrot and Barhom some kind of Kotaran gods?
Roan had only heard whispered stories of a Kotaran religion, but what he
remembered was that religion had been exterminated ages ago in that culture.
The government preached a philosophy that was wholly deity-free. Of course,
information on Kotaran culture was spotty at best.

Roan again pressed the “talk” button—anything to stall
this guy. “I don’t care what gods you pray too. You’d better pray that I don’t
ever meet up with you.”

“Your foolish talk is blasphemy. You die soon—that all
you need know.”
 
With his
ungrammatical utterance, the Kotaran appeared to end their conversation and probably
returned to trying to get through the sealed doors.

“Hey, get the hell back here, you kanga! Let’s talk religion
some more.”
 
No response. Instead,
there was a blast and the walls shook, causing the lights and electronics to
flicker. Roan fumbled for his com.

“I think he’s breached the engineering section. How’s that
gas coming?”

“We’re on it,” Masao replied. “It should be coming in there
any second.”
 
On the other end there
was what sounded like the rapid flipping of switches. “Yep, it’s coming through.
Should be all over in a few minutes.

Roan pressed his ear against the door crack to listen for
the hiss of gas. He couldn’t hear anything, so it probably was emitted
inaudibly. He quickly moved his head from the door. It’s not a good idea to
press your face against somewhere were paralyzing gas could be seeping through.
There weren’t any more explosions from the other side, so presumably this
Kotaran had just been knocked out cold. Roan waited five minutes, wondering how
long it would take to incapacitate a being of that size. Then he called the
cockpit and told them to unlock the doors.

The gears shimmered and a clanked. Roan turned the latch and
the door creaked open. Beyond it lay darkness, and it took a while for Roan to
adjust to the light. The control monitors stood out in the darkness, their
RESET
screens casting blue glows every which
way. On the floor was a body of a technician, his back cut open with a red
gash. Roan stepped over him on his way to the machinery section.

A film of smoke hung in the air and for a second Roan
thought it was the Methanlycil. He covered his mouth, but stopped when he saw
the cloud surrounded the remains of the security door. The guy must’ve used a
grenade to blow it open, and a very powerful one at that. Roan tip-toed around
chunks of steel and copper, and avoided others jaggedly protruding from the walls.
One more threshold later and he was in the engine room.