The Fifth Civilization: A Novel

by Peter Bingham-Pankratz

  Duvurn bowed, and retreated with his bodyguards through the kitchen door. It clicked behind them. The Colobus crew turned to each other and murmured, trying to sort out the conundrum of this prince.

  “Nice fellow,” Masao said to Roan. “If a little strange.”

  “You’re one to know.”

  Kel peered in a pillar at the fish. David stood near her and stared awestruck at the glass ceiling. Roan wondered whether he should talk to her, but figured it was best he stay away. So he and Masao hedged their bets with the staircase, which as Duvurn had predicted, was tough to climb on their space legs. Roan’s knees wobbled and every step was like trying to balance on jelly. He leaned against the railing for support and raised his eyebrow at an oil painting hung on the wall, which seemed only to depict geometric shapes.

  “The man has taste,” Roan said to Masao, who was working his way up the steps.

  “If you can call it that.” Masao wasn’t smiling, though. His eyes were narrowed, worried. “You still coming with us, Masao?”

  Masao stroked his stubble, pondering the question. “You know, about that…I’ve been thinking…”

  “Thinking! You’ve had a month to think about it. I thought you wanted in on a little bit of history, too.”

  Crewman Joseph jaunted up the steps between them, obviously doing much better with his space legs. He made it to the landing at the top and whistled at a sculpture of a buxom Bauxen, possibly a female.

  “The truth is, Roan, that I can’t just pack up and go on little expeditions like this. I have a very cushy job at the Company. A copilot’s nothing to smirk at. I might even make captain someday, as long as they forgive this whole episode with the Colobus. People spend their whole careers hoping they can captain a vessel. They don’t just pick anyone to captain a ship.”

  “They picked me.”

  But Masao didn’t seem in any good humor. He obviously was feeling the pull of gravity now that he was walking on an actual planet. Most people lose weight in space, but he seemed to gain it, his frame perpetually stooped forward. Though the man was about as old as Roan, he appeared to have aged a decade.

  “I’m not one for adventure, Nick. Those days are in the past. Just look at me.” He pinched his gut. “This is not a body they show in adventure holofilms. And you know what? I’m comfortable with it. I am content to live out my life without being chased by Kotarans and death.”

  “Why did you even come along with us?”

  “I had no choice, did I? I needed to help out a friend.” Not a colleague, Roan noticed.

  “You’re practically a fugitive on Earth.”

  “If the Company doesn’t take me back, I could do OK on Bauxa. I’m sure they have some law of asylum.”

  Roan glanced at his copilot’s body. “You’d fit right in here.”

  Masao got off the railing and walked up the staircase, evidently saying to hell with whatever his legs thought in protest. After giving the triangles and rhombi in the oil painting a thorough study, Roan followed him up the steps. The second level was decorated with sculptures of Bauxens with vastly different shapes and sizes. Probably the skinny ones had lived years before the current girth became fashionable. So many names and histories of Bauxen figures that Roan would never know, or comprehend—one set of histories on Earth was enough.

  Roan was so busy studying the sculptures that he didn’t notice his copilot’s outstretched hand. Masao had to practically shove it in his chest.

  “Masao! Come on. You’ll enjoy this trip, trust me. You’ll be famous.”

  “Not my cup of tea.”

  “At least stay for dinner. I thought you were starving.”

  “I’ll take my chances in finding something in the Earth quarter.”

  Realizing he had no choice, Roan shook the man’s hand. It was firm, almost crushing.

  “I believe in what you’re doing, Nick. I really do. I meant everything I said to you in the laundry room. But I would tell you not to stay in the company of this prince for too much longer. Leave tonight, in fact.”

  Roan looked down in the rotunda. A few Bauxens stood guard at the front door, rifles at the ready.

  “It’s all the guns, isn’t it?”

  “Yeah. It gives me the creeps. For some reason I don’t feel safe. Duvurn has a lot of protection, and that means he’s a marked man. Someone wants all this stuff he’s got here. Maybe he has connections, but so do his enemies, and I’ll bet the Kotarans are seeking them out.”

  Roan noticed Kel and David conversing in the rotunda. They’d definitely become fast friends recently.

  “Kel and David trust him.”

  “Then I hope they’re right to. For your sake.” Masao took one last look around the balcony and then put his hands in his pockets. “I want to read about you someday,” he continued. “A famous explorer. From schmuck-san to historic figure, all in a few months. It’ll be something. ”

  “I hope so.”

  “Yeah. And maybe you’ve become Nicholas Streb by then.”

  Roan raised his eyebrows. The other man gave off a hint of a smile and then shuffled away down the stairs, his boots fading on the platinum floors. Roan became aware that the palace suddenly seemed very quiet indeed.

  Chapter 21

  In an hour, hovering electronic orbs came to collect the crew who were roaming the palace. Roan was sequestered in a palatial stateroom, flipping through broadcasts, when the orb floated in and requested that he return to the rotunda for dinner. When he responded in affirmative, the orb flew away, no doubt to find the next programmed guest. Robots were never one for conversation.

  Duvurn had prepared what appeared to be a vast table for his guests, though under the tablecloth Roan noticed it was really two long tables put together. Glass walls surrounded the dining room, with openings to the outside gardens that gave the room an effect similar to a greenhouse. Since the sun had gone down, candles had been placed around the table and shadows danced amid the glass and the walls. The flames transformed the room into something more like a sauna.

  The Bauxens, Roan knew, liked it hot.

  A Bauxen servant pulled out a plush chair, which Roan gladly sank into. When Roan only saw David sitting opposite him, he asked the servant where the rest of the crew was, and the Bauxen tilted his head back to signal he either didn’t know or didn’t speak English. The servant folded his hands and walked away, and only then did Roan realize his legs could barely fit under the table, which was obviously designed for shorter and fatter people. As his body sank into the cushiony chair, he was lowered to a more acceptable height, one more akin to a Bauxen level.

  David had closed his eyes and his head glowed gold. He must’ve been meditating or something, and the glow from his head cast a soft shadow on the wall behind him.

  Over the next ten minutes, Roan sat in silence as the crew shuffled in. Kel was next to appear and took a seat next to Roan. Joseph and Sundar all came in soon after. Jasper was missing, probably asleep. Anything to get away from the experience of the past month, Roan was sure. Duvurn had not yet shown up.

  “Did you request anything from the chef?” Kel asked, and Roan was surprised she was talking to him first. Roan shook his head.

  “Looks like it’s Bauxen food for you, then. Whatever the Prince eats, so do you. I think it’s protocol.”

  “Good thing I’m starving,” Roan said, and he looked at the silverware arranged in holders at his place in front of him, handles sticking in the air. He hoped there wasn’t a protocol for how to pick them up.

  The doors against the wall opened. Someone who appeared to be a servant carried a tray that appeared much too large for him. The tray, topped with a curved lid, was steaming, and the servant held onto the sides with gloves. All present watched until he reached the Prince’s empty seat at the head of the table. The servant set the tray in front of it, revealing his face by candlelight: it was Duvurn.

  “I believe in your language you have an expression for it…douzo meshiagare?”
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  Joseph laughed. Roan cracked a smile as well. “Close enough.”

  The Prince laughed and opened the lid of the container, which let forth a burst of steam. Lying on the tray was what appeared to be a small creature, somewhat like a calf, that had been roasted and placed amidst an array of leafy greens and yellow fruits or vegetables.

  “You know, among my people, it is traditional for the host to serve the meal. At least, the main course.” He sniffed the steam and let out a satisfied-sounding sigh. “Ah, this duc smells good. Now, who’s having their own specialty dishes?”

  All the rest of those present spoke up, and through their hunger they carefully reminded him of their orders. David, a vegetarian, was having a meal prepared by the chefs that involved some type of squash. Sundar was given a chard and kale salad and Joseph salivated over a beef sandwich. Kel and Moira were both indulging in dishes of cheesy pasta. Duvurn muttered affirmatives as he heard all of these orders and then let out a guttural roar. Instantly, from the same door through which the Prince had emerged, servants pushing hover trays appeared.

  “It looks like Mr. Roan and I will be the only ones enjoying the good food of this planet.” Duvurn let off a smile. Smoke from the duc twisted before his eyes.

  “I can’t wait,” Roan said.

  The servants dispensed the requested foods to their respective owners, and quite expectedly the crew spent several minutes wolfing them down. Anything that was not cold beans or ship-smoked salmon was OK by them, and to eat something licked by a Bauxen fire was enough to make everyone shut up and eat. Practically everyone. Duvurn continued on with some story that Roan and the others only half-listened to, a lengthy tale relating how his brother once tried to claim the title of Prince from its legitimate owner, Duvurn. It involved some sex and intrigue and even a duel, and David was the only one who said anything during it, interjecting a comment or question that enabled the Prince to go on for more minutes.

  All the while, Roan poked the duc with his fork (or rather, an elongated stabbing instrument) and was surprised how undercooked it seemed. Though appearing roasted, it was certainly not tender. Roan worked on chewing his first bite as Duvurn related a decade of his life. Luckily, the Bauxen port du jure was first class; the Bauxen equivalent of a grape made their wine taste like liquid gold. Servants were constantly alert as to who needed a refill.

  Roan decided could really get to know this Prince.

  “So!” Duvurn said, bits of duc flying out of his mouth, “I trust everyone is enjoying their meal? Is it as good as Earth? I want comparisons.”

  “Yes, it is, Your Excellency,” Kel said, as a bit of mozzarella dipped from her lips. “It’s good to taste real cheese again. A lot of what comes from Earth tastes sour and pale.”

  “Ah yes, I have heard Earth is in a bit of a food shortage, what with the big war a few hundred years ago. Tell me, is meat still scarce?”

  “Not as much as decades ago,” Kel said. “We get a lot of food from the colonies now. We originally exported a lot of our livestock to them, and after the war, they had the monopoly on the meat market. Entire ecosystems thrive on the colonies now. Some of the big predators are even have to be culled there, predators that only exist in captivity on Earth.”

  “Fascinating! You know, I’ve always wanted to see a…tortoise, that’s it. I hear they’re equivalent to what we evolved from here.”

  “Orion has a better planetary zoo than ours,” Kel said. “You might want to visit it one day, your Excellency.”

  “Maybe I shall. I haven’t traveled offworld very much, I’m afraid.” He licked a duc bone clean and put the white appendage on a plate towering with bones. “Nicholas! How are you enjoying your meal? Tasty, isn’t it?”

  It was hard to speak with a mouthful of his second piece and wine, but Roan did his best to smile and raise his glass. Duvurn giggled in return and from his smile Roan realized that the Bauxens had many more teeth than humans did, and what was tender to them probably tasted like a brick to a human.

  Duvurn clapped and some servants arrived to take away the empty trays. Dessert was on the way, the Prince promised, and as he downed another big glass of wine he let out an enormous burp. Though Roan had only seen princes in holofilms—all Earth monarchies having been abolished centuries ago, by force—he judged that this was perhaps not the kind of mannerly behavior he could expect from a human prince.

  “Now,” Duvurn said, “We have to discuss business. In my part of the planet we always do that before dessert…everyone is in a more talkative mood, and yet everyone is still anticipating a treat that comes next. Here is what is going on: the Colobus is undergoing a thorough review and repair by my men in the freighter corps. They have extensive experience in these matters. Let me tell you that these repairs will not cost you a tert. We will make sure that your lightspeed drive functions even better than it did before you left Earth.

  “My contacts in the food service are resupplying the ship with double the quantities of sustenance that you left with. Cuts of meat, pallets of bread, condiments, sugar, salt, and of course two new tanks of water. They were surprised you lasted this long on the tanks you had, but I told them you were short-handed. Oh yes, and spirits as well…I am resupplying the ship with Earth-style alcohol, and a little of this planet’s variety. Don’t go through it too quickly!”

  Kel glanced at Roan and shrugged.

  “On the sober side of things, all the bodies of your dead crewmen are being turned over to the Earth embassy for repatriation to your home planet. Terrible business, that.

  “Also, your Company did request the Colobus be returned to them. Now, I said it was damaged and the repairs could take weeks, though in reality the ship could be ready by dawn tomorrow. If you want, I can maintain that fiction with them. Let you take the freighter and be on your way. Or I could find you a deep-space Bauxen ship, though that might take a few favors on my part.”

  “I think we’ll stick with what we know. The Colobus will be fine,” Kel said. And then she asked something that was on everyone’s mind. “What does the Company want to do with us?”

  “My dear Miss Streb, they are not altogether pleased with the situation. Their representative here wants to speak with you, but I told them you are in no condition to do so. For now, I am saying you are convalescing at my palace. As for your cargo, its delay in arriving at Orion is causing something a little bit of….ah, bother, I believe. Orion was very upset it didn’t get that cargo on time, you see, and has threatened to cancel its contracts with the Company. But I believe my people can work that out. All of the cargo your ship was carrying to Orion is being offloaded and rerouted immediately on another ship heading to that colony. Look, I believe this is all a fuss over nothing. A Kotaran act of violence should be covered by insurance!

  “What I am saying is, don’t worry about the wrath of your Company. Nothing I have heard makes me think they will confiscate your wages or give you the sack.”

  “Thanks,” Roan said. “Are we still wanted for questioning on Earth?”

  “I queried your police agencies, but they were not forthcoming. They probably still want to speak to you, but I imagine they know you were simply innocents caught in a bad situation.” Roan noticed there were a lot of “I believe” and “I imagines” in Duvurn’s little speech. All the guy had were promises, and Roan wondered if there was anything the Prince could say for certain. Convalescing on Bauxa didn’t seem like a bad idea, but the sooner they got off this rock, the better.

  “And what about the Kotarans?” Kel asked. “Are they still following us?”

  Duvurn smiled and clapped his hands. Again, servants came into the room on hovercarts, each holding up vases of some yellowy substance. Roan had tasted it before: areya vo, equivalent to chilled ice on Earth. When the servant came around to Roan and saw that his duc was not finished, he gave a frown, but Roan told him to bag it for later. It was replaced with the treat.

  “Enjoy it! Each flavor is quite good, I can assure you.
”

  “You didn’t answer my question,” Kel said, digging into the areya vo with her flat spoon. “What about the Kotarans following us?”

  Duvurn sighed and sliced the top off his ice. He ate it before answering. “I don’t know all the details, but was told by my sources at the port that a Kotaran ship did arrive here less than a half hour after you did. They landed at the port of Erwo Seg, and I know nothing else besides that.”

  “Where is Erwo Seg?” David asked.

  “On a whole separate continent!” Duvurn laughed. “It is nothing to worry about.”

  “Yeah, and that’s about two minutes travel time,” Roan said.

  Duvurn slurped up his treat and waved his hand, a Bauxen negative. “I wouldn’t worry about the Kotarans, my friend. They are far away and we are well protected. Have you not seen my men? Besides, Bauxa is not Earth—the Kotarans have too many trade agreements with us to jeopardize anything.”

  “As you say, let’s hope so,” Kel said. Her spoon sat buried in her dessert.

  “Tell me about this planet,” Duvurn said. “I want to see the information you have. Is it true you found the largest untapped well of phosphate known to exist? And independently, without the help of the Stil Ministry? That’s an enormous find! I’m not surprised the Kotarans are after it, too, since they’d need a lot of phosphate after their failed collectivization policies.”

  “Company business,” Kel said, eyeing Roan. “David here was the one that discovered it, through his scientific contacts. He was the one who needed to get the information to Nick here, to get a ship. Unfortunately, the Kotarans got in the way of his plans.”

  “Tell me more about this run-in on Earth!” Duvurn said. “Did you really kill a Kotaran?”

  Roan breathed in and cracked a pained smile. “Well, your Excellency, I did shoot him a number of times. He finished himself off with a grenade, but I believe it’s the spirit of the thing that counts. So yes I did kill him. It was either him or me. I’m sure you can understand.”