The Fifth Civilization: A Novel

by Peter Bingham-Pankratz

  Their skimmer trailed a hover bus that Vertulfo had hopped on. No dark-skinned Earthman had yet disembarked at any of the stops, leading Grinek to believe Vertulfo was still on board. The bus was now reaching the end of its scheduled line, which being the Yuko Mall, was no doubt the target’s destination. This was a problem. Even if Grinek and Talmar were to enter it, Vertulfo could always tell where his pursuers were by the gasps and frightened looks of Earthmen.

  Grinek turned to Talmar. The foot soldier was manning the controls, pushing just enough on the throttle to let the bus stay several meters ahead and avoid the appearance of tailing it. The Commander struck Talmar on the shoulder and pointed to a path on his left. The concrete road diverged in two directions. Public transport headed right to a buses-only area, while private traffic was being led into an underground tunnel.

  “We can’t follow him there,” Grinek said.

  “What? Why?”

  “Our vehicle will be stopped by the security forces if we follow that transport. On the left is an underground storage facility.”

  “Then I’m afraid we’ve lost him, Commander.”

  Elementary Surveillance, a required course at the intelligence academy, taught that Segen Ra, or Risk Taking, was among the highest qualities of a brave fighter. Those who ran from danger were cowardly and could never hope to rise above a junior desk clerk. Grinek did not make it to his current rank using the instincts of a pen pusher. He unlatched the skimmer’s entry hatch and waited for it to swing open. The smell of the salty sea assaulted his nose.

  “Commander, what are you doing?”

  “Store this vehicle where appropriate. Do not let any of the authorities stop you. If they do, show them your diplomatic credentials. Then come find me by tracking my communicator signal.” As the skimmer continued to hum along the road, Grinek put one foot on the running board outside the vehicle, hanging on to the open hatch for support. His monk’s robes flapped in the wind. None of the curious looks from bystanders concerned him.

  “And tell the operations ship I am pursuing the target on foot.”

  “Very well, Commander, but—”

  Grinek leapt off the side of the vehicle and onto the concrete roadway, a private skimmer honking as it passed him. With the nimbleness and speed his species possessed, he hopped to a pedestrian walkway on the side of the road. This followed the public transit path to the mall entrance. Gasps and shouts heralded his arrival in the sea of Earthmen. Grinek hated being forced to wade into this disgusting mass that attacked his nostrils, but fortunately the crowd parted as he walked. Word was trickling to the front that a Kotaran was coming through.

  With a snarl, Grinek wrapped his claws around the oversized monk’s hood and threw it over his head.

  Chapter 6

  Until he was seventeen, and feeling exceptionally rebellious toward his father, Roan had never set foot into a mall. They were always considered no-gos, inhabited by the same kind of haughty elites that ran his refugee camp. One night past his curfew, he and some friends finally paid for a bus ticket with their savings and took the hour ride from Hiroo to a shopping center near Harajuku. It was the first time they had seen so many of the local Japanese, having been cloistered in their communities among other Euros.

  Roan felt himself hypnotized by the lights and displays again now, years after he last stepped into such a place. Everywhere he looked, he saw reflected on the marble floors and shiny walls the mentality that money was inconsequential and spending was desirable. Shoppers passed by pushing carts of electrospeakers and designer clothing. Roan stared up at the interior of the mall, the spiraling walkway winding up ten floors. Through a mammoth, holographic “HAPPY NEW YEAR” spelled in multiple languages, he could see a mass of people trying their best to imitate a bustling ant colony. Even this early on a holiday, the mall was packed.

  “Ah, we can find directions at this terminal,” David said, and Roan found him staring at a shimmering three-dimensional layout of the complex. “We’re here, on the concourse. We need to be at Food Court Two...”

  “Food Court Two,” replied a computerized feminine voice, and the image rotated to bring a red-highlighted section to David’s eye line. “Turn around, head up the walkway to Level Two, Section Five. You will be at Food Court Two.” David seemed taken aback by the voice, his feathers ruffling and eyes glazing over.

  “I think she likes you,” Roan said.

  “What?”

  “Never mind. Shall we?”

  Roan led the way up the long, spiraling ramp that climbed the perimeter of the mall. He saw Yuko attracted members of all Earth’s races, with Euros and Africans represented alongside the local Japanese. Count on consumerism to bring people together, he thought. There were also plenty of women pushing children in strollers or leading them along by hand, which made sense, since those weren’t the types to be hungover from celebrating the pentury. As David passed them, some children pointed, some wailed, but most stared in wide-eyed fascination. And the expression was not unique to children. Mothers and aunts and uncles gawked at the Nyden, looking away when they met his eyes as if they were staring at an amputee’s stump.

  “Does it ever bother you?” Roan asked. “The staring?”

  “No, I understand it’s simple curiosity. Although we don’t have quite the same reaction to humans on Nyden, I accept that your species responds in a more complicated manner to other beings.” He grew quiet for a second. “However, it grows tiring after a while. You have to understand that Tokyo is very different than many parts of Earth because it’s so urban. You should have seen the reaction I got when I visited Adelaide, Australia.”

  “On the Tubes this morning, I saw a Nyden being beaten by some thugs.”

  “Goodness! Was he hurt?”

  Roan shook his head. “I didn’t stop to find out. He wasn’t fighting back, though.”

  “Mr. Roan, you must understand: that’s not our way. To harm life is to degrade it, to suggest it is not valuable. Suffering to one means suffering to all.”

  “You could learn a thing or two about self-defense.”

  “We’ve never needed such a thing.”

  Two teens walking by burst out laughing, goons dressed in hooded sweatshirts with lightning symbols on the front. “Check out that pigeon!” one of them said, and then continued on down the ramp. Roan gritted his teeth. Every minute he spent with David was increasing the likelihood some punk was going to mistake him for someone who consorted with aliens.

  On the ceiling were numbered reminders of the mall section being passed. Before Section Five even appeared, Roan could smell the food court. Grease mixed with cheese—that’s how he described it, the ever-present scent of easy-eating. Meat patties, pepperoni dough-fries, and breaded cheese clusters could all be counted on to make the Euros swarm like moths to a flame, though this food was popular too with not-a-few Japanese as well. Sometimes Roan wondered if his American ancestors would’ve eaten like this before they crossed the Pacific Ocean all those centuries ago.

  Personally, the stuff was too salty for his taste.

  The food court announced its presence with a roaring fountain ringed with greenery. Droplets sprang from the water, so Roan assumed the water wasn’t holographic. He was impressed. Obviously, the architects had retained some nostalgia for the natural world.

  As David leaned in to inspect the foliage, Roan surveyed the rest of the court. Alas, beyond the fountain, the place had all the ambiance of a flattened forest. Rows upon rows of jade-colored tables stretched for what seemed like a half-mile in either direction. At this pre-noon hour, the tacky tables were half full, customers munching on pastries or natto or tea between trips to the chain stores.

  David appeared from behind and passed Roan, threading the tables and drawing stares. Roan followed him while identifying the food he passed with his nose: fried food from America, the smoky smell of salmon from a local place, an assault of chili pepper from one of the Latin restaurants. At the edge of the court was the br
ight red sign of a Food of the Galaxy, a blast from Roan’s youth.

  “You know, David, I could really go for a Nyden doughnut right about now.”

  “A Nyden what?” David stopped, and noticed the chain restaurant. “Ah, a Nyden doughnut. Quite a disagreeable confection, and one promoted through false advertising.”

  “You don’t have Nyden doughnuts on Nydaya, do you?”

  “No.”

  They passed a table where a young boy gazed intently at David while his mother scolded his sister. For a fleeting second, Roan had an image of Kel changing a diaper in a food court, telling the security guards where to shove their indecency laws.

  “There he is!” David leapt into a sprint and Roan tried to match his speed. Ahead, seated at a rounded glass table by the window, was Aaron Vertulfo. Aaron noticed the two coming his way, and waved.

  From far away, the man appeared just as Roan remembered him: a man radiating dark. His skin was like chocolate, nearly matching the auburn traveler’s vest he wore. A neatly trimmed beard outlined a wide and welcoming grin. He appeared as dapper as always, but as Roan neared his friend, Roan saw that wrinkles crossed the man’s cheeks and forehead like canals. Grey also streaked his beard and hair. He was only a decade or so older than Roan, so the past year had obviously been unkind to him.

  “Nick!” Aaron said, standing. He extended his arms and gave his friend the long, firm, hug of a reunion.

  “Aaron. It’s been too long.”

  “I know it, my friend. I know it.” They sat. A bowl of natto lay untouched in front of Aaron, and David placed some complimentary chopsticks between his feathers and scooped up a clump.

  “David, did you run into any problems?” Aaron said to the Nyden, who was currently thrusting some of the sticky beans into his mouth.

  “None that I was aware of.”

  “Mmm-hmm.” Aaron didn’t seem quite convinced, but when he turned to Roan he cast a fond smile his way. “Nick, Nick, Nick…” he said. Roan reciprocated with a smile, but struggled to remember the last time they’d spoken in person. A year ago? More?

  “I hope the New Year has been kind to you so far,” Aaron continued.

  Roan laughed. “Let’s just say I’m glad I won’t live to see the next five hundred.” Aaron still beamed, but raised an eyebrow in concern.

  “How’s the shipping business? Go anywhere exotic?”

  “It’s a little rocky, with the economy being what it is and all. But it’s steady. Can’t complain that the Company’s paying me. Let’s see…actually, I just got back yesterday from a haul to Nydaya. Microwave arrays.”

  “Nydaya! See any of this guy’s relatives?” Aaron pointed at David.

  “Probably.”

  “OK. Still seeing what’s her name? Kel?”

  Roan was surprised Aaron remembered her name, but wished he hadn’t. Roan wanted the name to go unmentioned for the rest of the day, and preferred to keep the conversation strictly on business. “She’s doing fine. Don’t think I’ll be seeing her for a while now.” Please, Aaron, just leave it alone.

  Aaron did just that and turned to David. “How did the Lab take it?”

  The alien was still chewing his natto. “The Professor did not seem pleased when I requested indefinite leave, but she granted it.”

  “The same with me,” Aaron said. Aaron threw a quick glance over into the food court, then back to Roan. He was all smiles, but his hands were fidgeting with a wide-brimmed hat sitting on the table, and that concerned Roan. “I’m sorry we had to go through this trouble, meeting in a mall and all, but I couldn’t risk using coms or going to your apartment. I think we’re safe here, though. They won’t risk coming into so public a place.”

  “Who? The Kotarans?”

  “Yes.”

  Chills ran through Roan’s body. He shot a peek at the food court, searching for any sign of the upright ears or hulking frame that would herald a Kotaran’s arrival. Nothing. There was some comfort in the fact that any kangas that tried to sneak into a mall would get kicked out immediately.

  “Aaron, why the hell do you think Kotarans would be following you? What could you have possibly done to get those kangas so riled up?”

  Aaron shifted in his seat, the smile fading. He leaned across the table, his violet eyes locking onto Roan’s.

  “David and I were on Kotara four months ago,” he said, quietly. “We visited a few of their museums, their scientific archives. They were very interested in tracking my movements.”

  “You were on Kotara? What the hell for?” Outside of diplomats, travelers were rarely granted visas to that planet, and rarer still was the traveler who came back that wasn’t scarred in some way. Mentally or physically.

  “It involves a problem I’m trying to figure out, Nick. But first, I need a ship.”

  Ah, so that was it. Roan looked long and hard at his friend, then at David, who was placing his gooey chopsticks down on the table. “A ship? What, do you think I can just call the Company and get you a freighter?”

  Aaron narrowed his eyes and lowered his voice a degree. “At least give me a friendly recommendation. Maybe to someone going out toward the frontier that can smuggle a scientist in his hold. I need to get closer to the interior of the Milky Way.”

  “Aaron…what are you getting me into?” Now Roan didn’t know where to place his friend on the compass. Aaron Vertulfo never crossed the street without looking both ways and up, someone who thought it dishonest to write off a new microscope as a business expense. Something was causing him to veer away from that straight line he always followed.

  “No, I don’t know of any available ships,” Roan continued. “Do you think this is like old times, where you can tag along just to study a new asteroid? The Company’s clamped down on that sort of thing. It could cost me my job.”

  “This is much more important than anything like that. Nick…my life is in danger. We need to move quickly on this.”

  Roan shook his head. “Aaron, I just got back into the solar system this morning, I’ll have you know, right in time for New Year’s and to see my…” He was going to say fiancée, but of course that wasn’t right. Then he remembered Kel’s trip to Orion. It was possible she’d already departed. But if not…there was still some chance of seeing her again. Roan noticed his companions were growing jittery at his silence.

  “What is it?” David probed. “What’s wrong, Mr. Roan?”

  He was thinking. In the silence, Aaron gave the food court another once-over, his smile giving way to a tight-lipped wariness. He appeared calm, but constantly scrunched the brim of his hat.

  “How’s Orion sound?” Roan asked, quieting the fidgeting alien at his left. Aaron sighed in relief.

  “Orion, that’s a start. Can you get me there, Nick?”

  “Maybe,” Roan said, plucking some natto from the bowl and popping it in his mouth. He now had an excuse to travel back to the Entrepot and try and keep Kel from leaving, something he’d given up in the morning as futile. For the right price, most captains and crew allowed some extraneous passengers to stow away on board their freighters, provided they weren’t dangerous. Kel wasn’t likely going to risk taking on illegal passengers, and certainly not some of Roan’s friends, but even if she refused, Roan could at least have a chance to talk with her.

  Provided she hadn’t left already, of course.

  “One question, though,” Roan continued. “What the hell is this is all about?”

  David immediately jumped in. “Mr. Roan, it’s all a very technical and complicated problem, so if…” With a raise of his hand, Aaron silenced the sputtering Nyden. A grin once again creased Aaron’s cheeks and wrinkled his forehead, a sign he’d satisfy his old friend’s curiosity.

  “He might as well know the basics, David. Nick did allow me to stow aboard to Nydaya a few years ago, after all, and the information concerns him as it does every other human.” Now that was intriguing. Roan crossed his arms and leaned back in his chair, eager to hear everything. Calml
y, Aaron put the hat on the table and pulled from his jacket pocket a hexagonal pad, slightly larger than a drink coaster, and set it beside the natto bowl.

  “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.”