The Fifth Civilization: A Novel (5 page)

“Nick, have you ever heard of panspermia?”

There were drugs with similar names. But the term was
unfamiliar to Roan, and he shook his head.

“Let me tell you, then. Right now the consensus in the
science community is that primordial Earth was host to very basic
organisms—probably nucleic acids, something that could eventually
reproduce and come out four billion years later looking like you and me and
David, and my pet cat. You following?”

“Bunch of squirming bacteria. OK.”

“Well…where did those organisms come from? Why did these
nucleic acids spring up on Earth? Were they random occurrences? Panspermia
postulates that maybe, just maybe, these acids were of extraterrestrial origin
and fell to Earth from a passing heavenly body. That’s what ‘panspermia’ literally
means: ‘seeds everywhere.’ A piece of a comet is the generally accepted, uh,
mothership.”

Roan couldn’t suppress a smirk. The whole panspermia thing
sounded like a bunch of
kuso
. “So,
you think a comet
just happened
to
lose a chunk of rock that
just happened
to have life and that chunk
just
happened
to fall its way to our planet?
Out of all the space in galaxy?”

 
“Wait, hear me
out. Panspermia was considered bunk for a long time—like you said, it
sounds too random, too improbable. It doesn’t solve where life came from,
either. But over the past few centuries, humanity has made contact with three
other alien species. All humanoid, all sharing common ancestors with local
wildlife. And I think that lends credence to the theory.”

Roan shrugged. “Just because there are aliens out there
doesn’t mean this comet stuff is real. I do remember a few things from school,
and one of them was the fact that there are a hundred billion planets in our
galaxy. Stands to reason we’ll find a few societies out there.”

Aaron picked up the hexagonal pad. “I’ve spent years looking
into this, Nick. I may be an astrophysicist, but the more I heard about
panspermia, the more I believed that the study of biology should go hand in
hand with my study of celestial objects. You ask for evidence. You ask for
proof.” He waved the pad in the air. “I’ve got it right here.”

Suddenly there was commotion in the food court. Voices got
loud. A few people shouted. All three at the table jerked their heads to the
ruckus. At first, it wasn’t easy to see what was causing all this noise. People
were standing up from their seats left and right, as if a mole was running
across the ground. But then the three at the table saw it: a hooded mass
working its way through the crowd. A two-meter tall specter of death.

One moment people were eating peacefully at their tables, the
next they were dropping their plastic trays to the floor. The crowd parted
frantically, some customers fleeing and others darting behind waste bins. Roan
focused on the hulking figure, clad in brown cloth, and did not see Aaron’s
face as his friend breathed “Oh God.”

The figure approached slowly on its long back legs, the hood
cascading off its head to unveil the long ears and naked snout of a Kotaran. He
was as grey as a shark and quite muscular, certainly larger than any of the
humans present. In the alien’s clawed hand Roan had a split second to see
something glint. It was unmistakably a pistol. And the three were in its
sights.

“Go, go,” Roan hissed, and the three scrambled to their
feet, huddling together away from the table and inching back as the Kotaran
advanced.

The Kotaran said nothing. Just quickened his strides toward
the three.

Someone cried out from the left. A human. And then came the
shrill, piercing shriek of a Kotaran. A second alien, also wearing the robes of
a monk, leapt onto a table just a few meters away. This one shrugged his robes
off and also raised a pistol to the air.

The first Kotaran barked something in his companion’s
direction. But the second just aimed his pistol.

“Down!” Roan cried. The three scrambled under a table.

The first bright green bolt just missed them, splintering
the glass window at their backs.

“Go, go!” Aaron screamed.

The Kotaran was almost upon them now, leaping from table to
table. Aaron motioned for the trio to dart left and they did so, Roan’s fingers
picking up sticky residue from the food court floor. A second shot shattered
the table and sprayed plastic everywhere.

Screams ricocheted across the court. The Kotaran’s boots
squeaked on the table tops, a dance of death before the hunter caught its prey.
Roan swore he heard the snarls of the thing.

A dozen rows of tables stood between their position and the
exit, and there was no clear path through them. Aaron dashed under one,
commando-like, with Roan and David following suit. Not since his short stint in
the military had Roan been required to do this. Under one, two, three tables
they rolled, their pursuer’s bolts scorching each table they ducked under. It
didn’t take the alien long to leap on top of the one they sheltered under.

Roan had a millisecond to act. He slammed his shoulder into
the underside of the table. It hurt like hell, and Kotarans were not light
beings. But the thing was thrown off balance. With a grunt, the Kotaran crashed
to the floor face-first. Roan flung himself from under the table and jammed his
heel into the alien’s spine. It roared and turned its face to him. Roan jammed
his heel into the Kotaran’s snout, snapping cartilage and bone.

Aaron and David emerged near the front of the food court,
which emptied rapidly. They called out as Roan pounced on his assailant.

“Nick, let’s go!” Aaron yelled. “We need to get out of
here!”

Aaron was right. Time to go. Roan lunged for the kanga’s
pistol but the alien’s claws were locked around it, and the other Kotaran was
making a run for them. Roan made do with a kick to the kanga’s head. Then
followed his friends out of the court, all the while wondering where the
goddamn security was.

***

Godsdamn Talmar. He’d ruined the grab. Grinek could have
easily taken Vertulfo and killed the others right then and there if his young
subordinate hadn’t interfered. What was worse was the way Talmar had been
pummeled by the cap-wearing Earthman, who had now joined Vertulfo and the Nyden
in leaving the food court.

 
Grinek stepped
next to Talmar. The man was back on his feet, though his face was bloodied and
bruised. He gritted his teeth and eyed his leader.

“I will kill them, Commander.”

“Talmar, listen to me—”

“For our people, Commander!” Talmar screamed, and then ran
after the three targets. Grinek wished he’d chosen a less impulsive and
impatient partner for this task. The Earth division had assured Grinek that
Talmar was the best they could offer. If so, then Grinek would hate to see the
lesser operatives.

Calmly, Grinek stepped out of the food court, pistol at his
side. He sized up the scene before him: Vertulfo and the two others running up
the spiral walkway, parting the crowds as they ran. Talmar was close behind,
though if the three darted into any of the nearby shops they would lose him.
Grinek raised his pistol. Aimed at the capped man.

Hands clasped around Grinek’s arms. His attackers were
muscular, fierce—but Grinek was stronger. Apparently, some of the mall
security men decided they would try to tackle the Kotaran by grabbing his arms,
which were half the length of their fleshy bodies.

Their mistake. Grinek smashed one’s nose with his free palm
and then shot the one foolishly clinging to his pistol hand. The men fell to
the floor, unconscious or dead.

Upon hearing voices behind him, Grinek whirled and caught
sight of three men with plastic shields and helmets working their way up the
spiral. More security. It took him mere moments to aim and fire. One security
man was cut down, while the others fled behind the railing. These men were not
professionals, Grinek realized. The elite Tokyo Guard would soon be on the
scene.

Grinek turned back to the spiraling walkway, which had all
but emptied of Earthmen. All the better. He saw Talmar enter a storefront and
assume he’d chased the three into it. The young operative was a fool, but he
might have done some good by trapping the men inside. Apprehending them would
not be difficult. Grinek made his way to the store, throwing a few more energy
shots behind him to dissuade the security men. Perhaps capturing Vertulfo would
now be a challenge, but one way or the other, he would get the information he
needed.

***

The three of them ducked into a clothing outlet. Most of the
customers had fled the store, but a few were cowering behind racks of designer
slacks and the latest in fashionable women’s body suits. Roan, Aaron, and David
worked their way to the back of the store, finding sufficient cover behind a
rack of men’s suit jackets.

David yelped. “There’s no way out! We’re trapped!” The Nyden
nervously rubbed his feathery appendages together and his head glowed a bright
shade of green.

“Shut it!” Roan said. He had his eye on an employee kneeling
behind a rack of neckties across the aisle, a uniformed Japanese kid no more
than twenty with slicked-back hair and silver earrings. The kid was trembling,
peeking through the ties toward the front of the store.

“Hey kid!” Roan whispered. “There a back door?”

The employee didn’t respond. Only continued his trembling.
Toward the front, the whimpering of customers mixed with the heavy wheezing of
the Kotaran.

“He sounds like a bull,” Aaron muttered, crouching so low
his chin touched the carpet.

“Huh? Look, we gotta find an exit. Now.”

“I think that employee is our best chance of that,” Aaron
said, very calmly.

Roan called out to the employee once more. A little louder,
and firmer. Finally taking note of them, the kid pointed a shaking finger
toward their right. The back door, marked “Employees Only” in Japanese, was
very close.

And then came the crunch of clothes racks being pulled
aside. The heavy boot falls of the Kotaran. He was coming to them, fast.

Roan pushed a few of the suits aside and looked into the
store. He could see a shape moving behind some racks of clothes, a big one. It
had to be the Kotaran. He pulled the long-barrelled Nalite pistol from his coat
pocket, suddenly feeling a little bit safer. A faint chirp from the weapon
meant it was ready to fire.

The big shape appeared again. Roan could hear the noise that
sounded like a bull, and he took aim.

“When I fire,” Roan said, “Head for that door.”

 
He fired.

The first of Roan’s energy bolts struck a clothing rack,
setting some dresses on fire. As soon as the
zap
of the gun crackled through the store, Aaron and David took off
to the back door. Roan hopped up and laid down some more cover fire, which was
haphazard at best, and which was soon answered by return fire from a Kotaran
pistol. Green bolts incinerated jeans and short shorts every which way. A “Find
Your Size” monitor exploded, showering the store with sparks.

Roan crouched low as he ran. This back door had better be
worth it.

Aaron was the first through the door. Roan and David were
close behind. A bunch of boxes and metal racks fell to the floor as the door
was forced open, probably some kind of crude barricade the employees had
erected. Roan assessed what he saw behind the door: a backstock area with
ceiling-high shelves full of store inventory. A few employees huddled behind a
forklift, staring wide-eyed at the two humans and a Nyden intruding on their
workspace.

Roan yelled for them to get the hell out of there. The
employees took heed and ran toward another door at the back of the
mini-warehouse. Perhaps that led outside.

“Get to that door!” Roan barked.

Aaron turned and froze.

“Nick! Behind you!”

Roan swiveled, his pistol at the ready.

The fierce cry of a Kotaran filled the room. Calliopean,
rising in pitch until a shrill crescendo, the cry was as much a warning as it
was terrifying. Stepping into view, silhouetted by the bright light of the
store, was the enormous shape of a Kotaran. His ears were pointed straight back.
His tail was curled behind his body, scorpion-like, the tip a dagger aimed to
its prey. And in his hands was an energy pistol.

To Roan it happened in slow motion:

The alien got off a shot. He heard Aaron grunt and go down.
The second brushed near David, who squawked. Roan didn’t let him get off a
third. He brought up the Nalite and fired it at the Kotaran’s torso. One red
burst after another went into the Kotaran’s chest. Roan wasn’t counting his
shots, but he’d heard it took a lot to take down a Kotaran.

It did.

As his face squeezed into an agonized grimace, as his tail
swished every which way, the Kotaran catapulted from the doorway and fell
against a rack of pleated sacks. With a thump, the alien collapsed from his bed
of clothes onto the floor.

Go to hell, you kanga bastard.

Roan’s hand seared with pain. The Nalite pistol was scalding
hot and smoking from overuse, and Roan threw it to the floor. Its energy pack
was spent. The thing was useless.

“Nick, help me…”

Aaron.

Roan bent down to see what the damage was. The man’s pant
leg had been burned off and his skin underneath was red and blistered from the
blast. Telling him it was going to be all right, Roan slung Aaron’s arm over
his shoulder and lifted him up. Aaron groaned in pain, then limped along with
Roan on his good left leg, clutching his wound. David, meanwhile, climbed off
the floor and looked at the injured man in horror.

“David, goddammit, help me—”

A growl from outside. Roan turned as much as he could with
his friend on his back, and saw the Kotaran writhing just outside the doorway.
He muttered something and—to Roan’s horror—was fingering something
in one of his claws. A device.

A grenade.

“David, run! Now!”

David didn’t need the encouragement. He knew what was
coming. The Nyden took flight and Roan got maybe a yard before heat and a
thousand tiny shards stopped their gallop to the exit.

***

Curse Talmar.

Grinek knelt and covered his head to shield himself from the
explosion. If he’d only waited a few moments before blowing himself up, Grinek
would have arrived to finish off the Earthmen. Grinek had been approaching the
door, ready to come to the aid of his subordinate, when he saw the grenade
appear in Talmar’s hands. On Kotara, they revered those whose suicidal actions
took out enemies. Here it was a stupid tactical move.

His ears still rang from the blast, but Grinek could hear
the gentle hail of clothing shreds and what remained of Talmar fall to the
floor. A few meters ahead, he saw the charred doorway was now shrouded in
smoke. Slowly, pistol in hand, he made his way to it, his giant feet making
cautious and calculating steps.

***

The explosion threw them all to the floor. Though far enough
to avoid its flames, Roan couldn’t imagine anyone had escaped without taking
some shrapnel. Roan, for one, figured he had a few chunks of aluminum impaled
in his back.

Still clutching his friend, Roan lifted Aaron back onto his
feet. “Come on, buddy, easy,” he said, and Aaron nodded and coughed. He was OK,
but they needed to get to a hospital, quick. And to some kind of
transportation, because Roan couldn’t carry the guy all the way. Aaron was
pretty heavy for a thin man.

 
David had also
gotten himself onto his feet and was brushing off his feathers. “David, get
that door open for us,” Roan said, nodding toward the one marked “Exit” at the
back of the warehouse. David didn’t respond, as if in a daze. “Goddammit you
pigeon, fly!” Roan snarled. At that, David jumped and ran to the exit. Roan
looked behind at what was left of the doorframe, seeing only smoke and fire.
There was a second Kotaran out there. Any minute he was bound to appear.

“Nick,” Aaron wheezed. “Nick, you need to take this.”
 
He was holding the hexagonal pad in his
bloody hand and thrusting it to Roan.

“Not now,” Roan said, hobbling as fast as he could to the
exit. David heaved it open and a sweet and salty smell filled the
mini-warehouse. Beyond that door was Tokyo Bay. Freedom. David stepped outside
into the sunlight, and Roan could make out a small balcony beyond the exit.
Behind him were shuttles and cars shooting over the harbor, the oblivious
bustle of the real world.