The Fifth Civilization: A Novel (25 page)

Blood flowed. Their bodies intertwined. Kel ran her hands up
and down Roan’s back, keeping his body close. Roan explored her neck with his
mouth. In half a minute Kel’s tank top had landed with the rest of their
clothes. In a minute both were kicking their pants onto the floor.

All the urges Roan had repressed weeks ago had definitely
returned. From the way things were going, Kel could say the same thing. If this
is what I get for exploring a planet, Roan thought, maybe I should become a
scientist.

Limping, and with each step shooting an excruciating burn up
his sides, Grinek made his way from the hangar bay to the bridge of the
Hanyek
. It seemed like the ship was more
crowded than usual, and he had no patience for any crewman standing in his way.
The unlucky ones were thrown against the bulkhead. The ones that were spared
that made no effort to hide their staring at his tattered uniforms and the
dried blood on his body.

Good. Grinek would never bandage his recent wounds. The crew
needed to see them.

The bridge door creaked open, slower than ever, and as usual
all heads turned to see who was coming through. When they realized who it was,
all straightened their backs and did their best to look busy—all except
Vorjos, who had the audacity to be sitting in Grinek’s chair, his tail flapping
contentedly. Fine. That would make what he had to do easier.

“Ah, Commander,” Vorjos said casually, spinning in his chair
to face Grinek. “We haven’t heard from you in a while. I assume you were
successful—”

“You,” Grinek said, sticking a clawed finger in the man’s
face. “You have to lock yourself in your quarters right now. Those are my
orders.”
 
As if to back him up, Roh
and two of Grinek’s personal commandos appeared in the doorway.

“What?” Vorjos flared his nostrils in dismissal of the
message. “I don’t have to do any such thing. Where’s Sisal?”

Grinek smiled for the first time in many months, which
caused Vorjos to recoil. “Sisal has been retired.”

Now Vorjos seemed worried, trembling even, his teeth giving
off a little bit of chatter. The Observer swiveled in the captain’s chair,
looking around the bridge to see who would support him, but the bridge crew of
the
Hanyek
were all servants of
Grinek, not of the Council. They always went with their direct superior, not a
political hack. To do otherwise would be suicide.

“Did you do anything to Sisal?”

Grinek ignored the question. “Observer, you are hereby
detained on my orders upon suspicion of trying to subvert my authority. I
cannot have such behavior on my ship, and I’m sure the Council would not, and
will not, approve. Report to your quarters now or you will be forced to do so.”

Vorjos jumped out of the chair, perhaps out of defiance or
perhaps realizing the inevitable and unconsciously trying to make the process
easier. “I could scream that this is mutiny, Grinek, but you know that already.
Everything is calculated with you, isn’t it—you’ve had this planned for a
while. And I wondered why you maintained radio silence through most of your
stay on Bauxa. Well, don’t think you’re friends on the Council will save you
when we get back to Kotara.”

“No, I don’t suppose they shall. That’s why they’ll have to
be replaced. I suspect I’ll be a planetary hero when I return, coming as I will
with evidence that Kotarans are the esteemed brothers of the Fifth Civilization.
That should buy me a host of friends.”
 
He gestured to Roh to come forward and apprehend Vorjos. “If I can’t do
that, though, I have enough support in the military to convince the Emperor
that I’m a friendly person.”

Roh clasped his hands around Vorjos’ arm and tugged him
toward the door. “Remember what’s happened to people like you before, Grinek!”
Vorjos snarled. Grinek replied with a knuckle to the man’s snout. His blood
spattered on Roh, who didn’t seem to mind. In seconds Vorjos was out of sight,
being led down the hallway to his detention.

“Adjutant Annel,” Grinek stated, and the com officer perked
up. “I assume you’ve shut down all the communications capabilities in the
Observer’s cell…I mean, his quarters.”

Annel frantically pressed some buttons on her console, then
directed her head back to her superior. “Of course, Commander.”

“Good. Helm!”
 
The crew tensed in anticipation, and Grinek firmly planted himself in
his seat. “We are behind, and that is most unfortunate. However, I do not
believe it should be hard to find this Earth ship, the
Colobus
.”

“If I may, Commander,” a helmsman said, “We have no
indication of where the ship went. Bauxa Control could be bribed, I suppose,
but we do not know if they would be heading off in the wrong direction to fool
us. They are lost.”

Grinek tilted his head back in a gesture of negation. “Not
necessarily. It’s most fortunate that we had enough
terts
to bribe the green-skinned cretins on this planet. Scan the
surrounding environs for an extremely-low-frequency signal.”

The crew jumped to work, hurriedly working their controls
for some indication of what Grinek desired. There was a beeping at one station,
and a crewman raised his hand. Grinek knew what he found, but inquired what the
beeping meant.

“Sir, there are faint bursts of kryton radiation extending
out about one light year from here. It appears to be moving away from Bauxa,
about an hour ahead of us.”

“You see? That’s them.” Grinek centered himself so he was facing
the central viewscreen of the
Hanyek
,
Bauxa and all its ships zooming around in orbit. They were going to leave this
planet behind, and good riddance—Grinek hoped not to return unless as a
conqueror, and he was going to get all those bribes back.

“Listen closely. We are fortunate that the Bauxens so
readily turn on their own race, because they have done something wonderful for
us. A member of the repair crew working on the Earth ship was able to slip one
of our homing beacons aboard it. I did not expect the ship to get away from us,
but one must always have a backup plan. Any short bursts of kryton radiation
you detect are emanating from that homing signal, and that’s where you’ll know
the
Colobus
is. Don’t worry about the
Earthmen finding out about it—extremely-low-frequency technology is a
Kotaran specialty. They won’t even be looking for it.”

“The signal appears strong, Commander,” said Annel,
consulting her computer.

“Good. This signal will last us for weeks. We don’t even
have to follow this vessel closely, just stay within a few light years. They’ll
never know what hit them.”

An anxious crewman offered a question that was on everyone’s
mind. “So they’re going to lead us right to this planet? Right to the Fifth
Civilization?”

“I don’t know what we’ll find. But hear what I’m about to
say, and remember it: the Kotarans will be the only ones to enjoy the spoils of
the discovery.”
 
And Grinek gave the
signal to engage the FTL. The crews went back to their various tasks, excited
now for the possibility they would be a part of a glorious history. Grinek
leaned back in his chair to admire their work, and considered how pleasurable
it would be to be looked on as a deity.

Not that he wasn’t practically one already.

Men and Demons

Two Mountains pushed the
duex
skin
rug aside and stepped out from his enclosure. His first view was of the double
peaks in the valley beyond, after which he was named. The time was past dusk
and he had just awoken; his nightly routine had begun. His wife was still
asleep, so as quietly as possible he gathered his spear, his bow, and a quiver
of arrows from a wicker basket that hung on a nearby tree. He slung the gear
over his shoulder. There was much work to be done in the foothills.

Like all warriors of the Hedda nation, Two Mountains hunted
immediately after nightfall. His people thrived when the sun went down, owing
to their bodies’ heightened senses, and it was at this time, anyway, that the
meatiest and the most coveted game appeared—along with the most
dangerous.
Duexi
were asleep at this
time, as they based their lives around the sun, and could be gathered easily
once one became accustomed to killing a sleeping beast. Highland
kegars
, on the other hand, were
something to always be wary of. Before one could grab a
duexi
and the bounty stuck to its hide, one had to make sure the
area was free from
kegars
.

Only a half a river’s length from his enclosure and Two
Mountains was in dangerous territory. The
kegars
avoided large groups of people because they could smell trouble, so most of the
time the animals stayed away from gatherings. But once a hunter was alone, he
was fair game. Two Mountains had lost a brother that way.

Two Mountains tread carefully, listening for the sounds of
twigs snapping or leaves rustling. He walked on the tips of his four toes, as
always, making sure to hit rocks or bare earth. Sounds worked to the advantage
of both prey and predator. Something snapped—Two Mountains stopped and
removed his bow from his back, loading an arrow on it and flexing it into a
ready-to-fire position.

It would happen in moments, he knew.

The beast pounced from behind a bush. Its paws sank into Two
Mountain’s hairy back, but only briefly, and the hunter rolled forward. The
kegar
let go and hurled itself in front
of the warrior, landing on all fours. To attack Two Mountains again, the
creature had to turn around, and while it did this Two Mountains dropped his
bow and yanked his spear from his knapsack.

The
kegar
turned
rapidly. Growling, it leapt in the air at Two Mountains. The hunter braced
himself for death but held out his spear firmly in front of him. Already
lunging at Two Mountains, the animal could not move out of the way of the
point. The spear dug between its tusks and into its throat.

Two Mountains held the
kegar
like he held a hunk of meat over a fire. Clawing with its paws and gnashing its
teeth in anger, the
kegar
was only
pushing the spear deeper into its throat. Two Mountains knew he was in a
dangerous position: many a novice had died at this stage, moving too quickly to
confirm the kill and being swiped by knife-like claws. Unlike those unskilled
hunters, however, Two Mountains was patient. He let the animal bleed, holding
it at a firm distance until, after a minute, all movement stopped.

Two Mountains set down the spear and unsheathed his final
weapon, his flint dagger. Heart pounding, he moved to the
kegar
’s head, near its twitching jaw, and pushed the dagger into
the base of its skull. Finally, the beast was dead.

Most highland
kegars
were attracted to the scent of their fallen. Even if this one was a lone
hunter, there were probably others nearby, because like people the
kegars
did not travel far outside their
packs. Two Mountains could either leave the carcass and continue to hunt for
duexi
, or take the
kegar
back to the community. Leaving the carcass to be found by its
friends would be the safer option, he reasoned, but Two Mountains also longed
for
kegar
meat. It was still many
cycles before the spring feast. He decided to risk taking the carcass back to
his camp, where its friends would not travel.

With a piece of vine he kept curled in his sack, he tied a
rope around the animal’s left leg and around his right wrist. This was the only
way to carry such an animal, as taking it on your back was only practical if
you wanted to drain the thing right there. No longer worried about making
noise, Two Mountains pushed forward through the leaves and the trees and the
twigs, beseeching God to calm any nearby
kegars
.
In a short time, he saw the familiar dome of his birch bark enclosure. He
frowned when he set the carcass down nearby, knowing it had lost some of its
desirability as it scraped against the ground.

Snowy Island surprised him. Two Mountains’ wife was awake
and about, despite her exhaustion at calming their rowdy child the night before.
She was already lighting the fire that would burn throughout the night, and
preparing their first meal, roasted ground
gaggesh
.
When she noticed Two Mountains carrying the
kegar
,
she smiled and stifled a laugh. The hunter figured he looked tired and sweaty
from his fight, and she often joked that he looked much like an animal himself
in that state. He laughed, too.

While Two Mountains prepared the
kegar
for preservation, a most curious thing happened.

The hunter had laid the
kegar
on its back and made a shallow cut in its belly to drain the blood. While the
blood flowed, Two Mountains watched the embers from their fire ascend into the
sky, which was brilliant with stars. It was one of those rare dark nights when
only the half-moon remained visible, the moon having gone to the underworld
again.

As the embers mixed with the stars, Two Mountains noticed a
bright flash in the sky. It was a white light, very brief, and once it had
blinked out there was a small, moving star in its place. Two Mountains could
not trust his eyes, and thought perhaps it was a stray ember, but when he stood
and moved away from the fire he saw that there was no question the light was a
star. It wasn’t stationary like the others, and moved through the sky. He
watched, enchanted, as it arced above the valley until it was lost on the
horizon beyond the Irefol Range.

There was no time to lose. He left the
kegar
to drain, not thinking that leaving the animal out might ruin
the meat. He hurried back to his enclosure. Snowy Island would be the first to
hear of what he’d seen, and then after that, the Chiefs.