The Fifth Civilization: A Novel

by Peter Bingham-Pankratz

  Recognition, however, only lasted a second. The Kotaran butted Roan in the chest with the palm of his claws, propelling him a yard in the opposite direction. His ass bore the brunt of his fall to the ground.

  The Kotaran turned back to the warriors, who had moved to their melee weapons. However fearless they were, the natives were not as tall or quick or as strong as the Kotaran, who worked his scythe like a cleaver through the bows and spears of the warriors. Once those were dispatched, he began tearing his knife into the flesh of the natives. They battled with their hands, but though they outnumbered the Kotaran, none could hold off his assault. One fell to the ground. The other warriors, disarmed, clumped together and backed to the edge of the cliff.

  Chief stirred on the ground. He was regaining his bearings, and pulling out a dagger from his sheath.

  The Kotaran heard the stirring. He turned to Chief. His lifted his scythe, now dripping with blue blood, and he said something in Kotaran. Roan made it out as a reference to the Kotaran gods.

  “Hey!” Roan shouted. He lifted himself onto his two feet. The Kotaran’s attention shifted from the down-and-out Chief to Roan. Too far away for his scythe to be effective, he quickly stuck it into the rock face and once again pulled out his pistol. Aimed it at Roan.

  This was the end, Roan thought.

  Not so. Chief lurched forward and plunged his dagger into the Kotaran’s foot. His boot was not enough to stop the blade. Crying out, the Kotaran fired a shot, which missed Roan. The human found himself in shock, however. He was sure the shot had bulls-eyed.

  Angered by this stabbing, the Kotaran aimed his gun at Chief, but the pain of the dagger slowed his movement. A warrior, running from behind, grabbed the scythe stuck in the wall and plunged it into the beast’s neck. Screaming, the Kotaran elbowed the hand and the warrior away, but left the scythe in his neck. Like a stunned and wounded deer, he stood between Chief and the warriors, spasming and wheezing. His tail fluttered, searching for a victim.

  Everyone knew the Kotaran was finished. Chief, Roan, and the warriors watched him, teetering like a weak tree in the wind. After a few seconds he opened his eyes, tightly shut from the pain, and shot Roan a look of disgust. He gritted his teeth, and the look turned to fear.

  “Fox’Lo…Bar’Hail…” the Kotaran muttered, audibly. Two of his three gods. Then the Kotaran’s legs gave out and he tumbled over the side of the cliff, down a good hundred feet onto the rough rocks below.

  Chapter 43

  Gods and demons do not fight on land.

  Two Mountains had always believed that, but today proved that assertion false. The warrior regarded Nikrun as the stranger rested on a rock and spoke like a madman to the small talisman he was carrying. He was not any taller than an average tribesman of Hedda. Shouldn’t an angel or other Messenger of God be taller in stature than a mortal? And shouldn’t such a divine figure be immortal, when neither Nikrun nor the demons were plainly able to be killed? All this evidence suggested that these foreigners were surely not from the heavens.

  Voices came from the other end of the talisman Nikrun held. The object could be alive, or more likely, it was some intermediary between Nikrun and his fellow beings on the ledges below. After all, were the Chiefs of his village not an intermediary of God? Probably this was a tepid analogy, but Two Mountains was too tired to continue thinking. The sun was directly overhead, and it was far past the time his people should be asleep. He had not eaten for hours, either, and his stomach groaned for food. Two Mountains supposed he should bear these trials, as the day was the most extraordinary he had ever experienced.

  Nikrun had waved the warriors away from the strange enclosure (or was it a giant bird?) and walked over to it himself, holding the Kotaran’s lightning club. The man was gone for several minutes, opening a part of the enclosure and then walking inside it.

  “Won’t he be covered in all the bile and slimes that float inside a beast?” one of the warriors asked Two Mountains. He was enthralled by Nikrun’s odd behavior.

  “Somehow, I think that is not a giant bird, my friend. I don’t see any organs inside it.”

  “Then what is it?”

  “I do not know.” If Nikrun hadn’t warned them away from it, Two Mountains would charge after the man and investigate for himself.

  He wouldn’t have to wait long to do that.

  Hearing voices below them, Two Mountains peered over the edge of the cliff. Nikrun’s friends were working their way up the rock face, with the female and the blue David in the lead. Behind them were the green men, struggling and panting their way up the cliff. So he’d been right in his belief that the talisman Nikrun held was some intermediary between groups. A magic stone such as that one would prove useful on hunting trips and long treks.

  Two Mountains called on his warriors to help the foreigners up to the summit. No sooner had their helping hands done this than everyone’s attention turned to the forest beyond. A flock of excited birds burst from the trees in the distance. Rising after them was a mammoth blackbird, its roar audible even from the cliff. It ascended slowly, pushing down air and swaying trees below it, and Two Mountains had no doubt it was the bird they’d heard during the night. Somehow the Kotarans had possession of this creature, and it meant terrible things on an incredible scale.

  Nikrun’s friends ran to the enclosure, which was now humming much louder than before. Nikrun was standing in the enclosure’s threshold, motioning with his hand for the warriors to come his way and shouting something that sounded like lezzgo! Giving one last glance behind to the blackbird, which was rotating now and seemed poised to attack, Two Mountains decided to obey Nikrun. His warriors were ahead of him, already running to the enclosure. This was a beast they couldn’t defeat. Two Mountains jumped in, and Nikrun shut a wall behind him with a loud clang.

  ***

  “I don’t see why you didn’t have a shuttle prepared,” Grinek seethed at an operations specialist standing nearby. With his rear planted firmly in the chair, Grinek had once again assumed the prime position on the Hanyek. The ship was now lifting off from the clearing, setting course for the pallid cliffs a few kilometers or so away.

  “I’m very sorry, Commander,” pleaded the officer. “We sent one of our shuttles south of here an hour ago, so it’s too far away. And we haven’t charged any of our others since we left Bauxa. They’re simply not operational.”

  Grinek waved him away. In another time he would have executed him on the spot, like Sisal. But as of late he’d been too tired to do so. Kotaran time, on which their ship and biological clocks were set, dictated that currently it was far beyond midnight. The bright light outside disoriented Grinek, but that’s what happened when you zoomed around a planet all day. Grinek fought an urge to rub his eyes and watched the viewscreen as the ship loomed ever closer to the white cliffs and the operations ship.

  “Adjutant Annel, is our vessel responding?”

  Annel flicked a switch, and a negative tone replied. “No, Commander, there has been no communication with them since Specialist Roh last reported in.”

  Grinek pulled at his armrest and it nearly popped out of its screws. Roh was possibly dead, along with his entire team. His best men had again failed him. “Continue on our course. We will give one pass to that cliff face, and if none of our men are there, destroy it and the operations ship. No one can survive our cannons.” There was an affirmative reply. Of course, these Earthmen had escaped their cannons once before, in orbit.

  The ships grew closer. From the distance the Hanyek was approaching, the craft could be seen to be powering its bottom thrusters and preparing for takeoff.

  ***

  “Hurry, for the love of Gwayvurn!” Duvurn shouted, invoking the name of his personal god. Roan gave the controls on the ship’s small bridge a once-over, and was relieved to find they were similar to an Earth ship, possibly because the vessel was modified from a human one. David quickly read out some of the Kotaran script next to the controls, and Roan went straight for
a console with a yoke on it. He pulled it back and lifted the ship up in the air. Thanks to a quick translation from the Nyden, Roan had a pretty clear idea of how to fly the vessel, though it was going to be tough doing it on his own.

  “David, could you go to that console over there, and ignite our rear boosters?”

  “Certainly.” David rushed over and looked over the controls. “Excuse me, but do I press this red button here?”

  “We don’t have time to experiment! Just press any goddamn thing!” David did as he was told, and the ship rocketed forward, beyond the white cliffs, toward the treetops in the distance. Roan plopped his ass into the seat and tried his best to keep from flying across the room into the viewscreen. A light on a computer nearby indicated the Kotaran mothership was directly tailing their aft, preparing to match and overtake them. Roan wasn’t sure he had another chase in him.

  “What do you think we’re going to do, just fly away?” Duvurn screamed, holding onto the doorframe for what seemed to be his life.

  “Thanks for your support!” Roan spat back, desperately trying to keep the craft’s axis parallel to the surface. “I only thought I was trying to get us away from the bloodthirsty Kotarans!”

  Roan managed to see, behind the hulking frame of Duvurn, the figure of Chief gripping the sides of the walls. Somehow, the native had managed to work his way to the bridge stood awed by what he saw. Roan didn’t have time to dwell on this, but he knew that if he were a primitive native, this was not how he wanted to be introduced to flying. A glider might be much more peaceful.

  “There’s a flashing light,” David shouted, manning his own station. “Something about dangerous carbon levels. Might I suggest something, since I know carbon is used for—”

  “Not now, goddammit!” Their little joyride was not going to last long. None of them had any experience operating a Kotaran-engineered vessel, even one similar to a human one. Any second it was going to tear apart from their incompetence or from their Kotaran pursuer’s cannons.

  ***

  “They’ve stolen our ship!” This time, Grinek ripped the armrest from his seat and flung it across the bridge. The sight of their auxiliary ship darting away from the Hanyek was too much to accept. “For the love of whatever gods you believe in, destroy that vessel!” Grinek buried his heads in his hands, leaning over his knees.

  “Do you want to do the firing, Commander?” asked the weapons officer.

  “I don’t give a shit who does the firing! Destroy it!” As per his orders, the Hanyek opened fire with its entire array of cannons, aiming for the small target erratically dancing ahead of them.

  ***

  Laser bolts whizzed past them and the bridge glowed from these green bolts. One hit and shook the ship, but most went beyond the vessel and into the treetops. Flames shot up in the distance where they meshed with the branches and leaves.

  We’re done, Roan thought.

  “They’re going to kill us!” Duvurn screamed. He had begun muttering in his own language again.

  Roan gave a glance at David. Almost calmly, David looked back, realizing too that this probably was the end. The Nyden was no longer at his controls, and instead seemed to have closed his eyes in prayer as well. His head was glowing white. Roan thought of Aaron, of Kel, of panspermia, and the fact that they’d made it this far only to come crashing down in a Kotaran ship. They’d been chased across hundreds of light years, nearly killed on Bauxa, blown up in orbit, only to die in a duel over the trees.

  That’s how it could’ve played out. But those kanga bastards weren’t going to get any of the spoils from Aaron’s Planet. Roan typed a few buttons on the controls, and on the viewscreen, sky turned into ground and ground to sky. If Nicholas Roan was going to go out, those assholes chasing him were going out as well. Roan muttered a silent prayer to the gear gods of engineering. Please let this maneuver work.

  He directed the ship into the cannon fire of the Kotaran vessel.

  ***

  The operations ship flipped and headed directly for the Hanyek.

  “He’s going to ram us!” a controller yelled.

  The laser bolts were missing their target; the weapons officer was panicking. Grinek gritted his teeth and steeled himself for the impact.

  ***

  Had Roan aimed a little to the right, he might have struck the command sector of the Kotaran vessel. But he veered away from the laser cannons even in his suicidal charge. Thus, when the human trawler struck the Hanyek it did so near its starboard engine. Roan would discover this later, because during the collision he closed his eyes right as the wing of the Kotaran ship disappeared from the viewscreen. A hellish scrape and a violent shaking reverberated throughout the ship.

  When Roan opened his eyes, he was surprised to find himself still alive. The relief was temporary, because the sensors and warning lights on the ship were shimmering like the skyline of Tokyo. No lever or button could alleviate their pain, and the ship’s altimeter reading was dropping fast. Grateful that he’d survived his own game of chicken, Roan did all he could to steer the ship so that it was right-side up when it crash-landed.

  No more glib remarks, no more shouts from Duvurn. This was terror at its utmost, their last avenue of escape dashed by their pursuers and sending them to the surface like a meteor. There was a clearing ahead, a pasture scene that might have been from Roan’s ancestral homeland, the California he saw in pictures. Roan smiled at the thought, not focusing on the three seconds separating being airborne from not.

  By the grace of the gods the ship met the planet belly-down.

  There were enough emergency stabilization procedures on the ship’s thrusters to keep it from tumbling and spinning as it impacted. However, that didn’t mean the crash was a landing—the lights went out and sparks flew as the belly scraped the ground, and the whining of the hull indicated a good part of the exterior had been shorn off. They drifted across the green for a few seconds, then came to a halt before a cluster of trees.

  A chair had fallen across Roan, and he lay on the hard metal floor of the ship. He may have been unconscious for a few minutes; he couldn’t be sure. He did know that the rhythmic sparking of a wire compelled him to open his eyes.

  Roan sat up. He brushed electric ash out of his hair, realizing his batball cap was somewhere in the rubble. His first order of business was to search for it.

  David groaned, and crawled out from under a railing that had fallen on him. The groan directed Roan’s gaze to his hat, covered in dust near the captain’s chair. He picked it off the ground, his priorities in order, and put it on his head. Now to help David. He extended a hand and helped the Nyden up. Immediately, David cupped his hand on his cranial bulb, and Roan realized it was bleeding.

  “How badly are you hurt, David?”

  “Not much, I believe. But it wouldn’t be good to take any chances.”

  If they hadn’t just crashed, David would’ve suggested Moira help them. But Roan saw the doctor was up and about, focused on gathering the survivors. And then once all were accounted for, they’d have to start moving once again. The Kotarans probably had crashed, too—and the survivors were not going to be happy.

  ***

  One minute earlier, Grinek was experiencing his first moments of terror in two months as the commandeered operations vessel sped toward the bridge. It avoided the Hanyek’s cannons but swerved to the right, striking somewhere toward the starboard wing. He didn’t see whether it was destroyed or not, but it had surely suffered a crippling blow with the crash. The Hanyek, however, was much in the same situation.

  “Damage report! Someone tell me what’s going on!”

  One engineer responded from his computer station. “Our starboard engine system is hit! Both engines are failing!”

  “Get them the hell back online!”

  “Sorry, Commander, but we’re at fifty percent capacity! We have no choice but to try and land!”

  A pasture on Somoresh was rapidly filling the viewscreen. They hadn’t
been traveling that fast, so an impact wouldn’t be disastrous, but it was still going to hurt the Hanyek. Grinek decided to say nothing and allow the crew to try and save the vessel, which convulsed more rapidly each second. He closed his eyes, not praying to Fox’Lo or Bar’Hail but instead to the circuitry inside his vessel. How could such a state-of-the-art machine be the death of him? And on the planet that was to earn him his glory!

  A death-tribute flashed in his mind: a broadcast on Kotara announcing that a minor commander named Grinek had died in a shuttle accident, the Imperium covering up his true cause of death to avoid embarrassment. Few would read it. Few would care. What kind of legacy was that?

  “Three seconds!” An engineer shouted. Grinek crouched in a crash position, his eyes not wanting to open and see the ground reach up to the craft. “Three…two…” The countdown did not prepare Grinek for being catapulted across the room, his body smacking the steel floor. He slid across it, pain splitting from all sides, until he struck the viewscreen. Luckily, his legs bore much of the brunt of the impact, and when the Hanyek came to a halt, he felt only a little sore.

  There were groans on the bridge. Crew members gradually came to and returned to their stations only to find them rebooting or demolished. The lights were flickering; the viewscreen had a huge gash in it. By this time, however, Grinek only noticed these things on a miniscule level. His focus was instead on vengeance against the Colobus survivors. If they hadn’t been destroyed, they were likely crashed nearby. And that meant they were perfect lambs for the slaughter. There was still a pistol strapped to his side, and Grinek felt it needed to be used.