The Fifth Civilization: A Novel (31 page)

Sunrise brought a heavy mist to the valley. Grinek feared an
attack during these conditions, possibly from the Earthmen or from the silent natives.
But as he scanned the vaporous fog before him, which turned trees to shadows,
he saw nothing moving. He did not know the definition of eerie—that
feeling being mostly alien to Kotarans—but he did feel that the mist
could provide the Earthmen with the perfect cover to escape detection.

“We have to use the operations vessel,” Grinek said to Roh,
referring to the disguised human freighter that sat in the
Hanyek
’s shuttlebay. “It makes more sense to have a few ships
searching the planet rather than one.”

“I agree, Commander. Shall I order it prepared?”

“Do it yourself, Specialist. Take a team and scout the area.
We must make sure we have superiority in the air and the ground.”

“Of course, Commander.”
 
With a bow, Roh slinked away.

Grinek speculated as to what Roh thought about being on a
planet that may turn out to refute his beliefs. The specialist had been
somewhat reticent after their arrival and possibly filled with conflicting
emotions. While they hadn’t proven anything about the origins of life yet,
Grinek knew they were close—and Roh did as well. Grinek made a mental
note to keep watch over Roh and make sure he didn’t do anything too hasty. He
wasn’t in league with Vorjos, but the two were aligned spiritually. That could
be a very dangerous combination.

There were footsteps on the gangplank. Grinek turned to see
four commandos descending with heavy rifles. Each took a proud step when they
came off the ramp; the novelty of being on a new world still had not worn off
for much of the crew. For Grinek, that excitement was all in the past. The time
had come to hunt. He motioned for the men to follow him into the woods, and
they did so, entering the fog behind their superior. With the reduced
visibility, they had to put all their senses on alert.

They walked for twenty minutes, finding the foliage
especially virgin and tough to navigate. Grinek had a pistol, but he kept it
holstered—instead, he used his hands to swipe away branches and other
obstacles. He knew that the commandos behind him would defend him if the need
arose, and he was not afraid of death. Being in the lead, he knew, only made
you a more fearless leader and imparted courage in your men.

Rustling. Leaves crunched close by, then silence. Something was
moving in the brush. There was no telling where the sound came from, because
the fog was still lazily clinging to the ground. Tree trunks began to look like
figures, branches like weapons. Grinek’s ears twitched and rotated. Someone was
watching them.

“Commander!” whispered a commando, pointing to the right.
Grinek cast a glance slowly in that direction, his hand reaching for his pistol
and his nose searching for a scent.

What he saw was a creature, perhaps as tall as himself,
standing on four legs and watching the Kotarans. It did not move. Grinek
immediately identified it as an ungulate of some kind, a creature that most
likely demonstrated no threat to them. He dismissed the thought that it was an
intelligent being and concluded it would be a wonderful source of nourishment
for his men. Their first taste of an otherworldly creature! He would have to
tell the cameraman to record the first bites of this new delicacy. And to think
that for a month and a half they considered roasted liver a treat.

“One of you kill it,” Grinek whispered. “Then we’ll take it
back to the
Hanyek
. It will be the
dinner for the four of us, the first hunters of Somoresh.” The soldier who
spotted the creature raised his rifle, which was long and bulky, and rested it
on his forearm.

Shortly, there was a green blast that struck the beast in
the kill zone near the heart. With a cry, it collapsed into the brush. The
burst itself thundered throughout the stillness of the forest.

“Excellent work,” Grinek congratulated, the name of this
particular soldier unknown to him. That didn’t quite matter, since the soldier
who had made the shot raised his chin in triumph. He would surely remember that
he had killed the first beast on this planet. “You three, fetch that animal. We
will consider it a trophy of the hunt.”
 
They obliged him immediately. While they were busy with that, Grinek took
in a 360-degree view of his surroundings. No one was rushing to them. No one
had noticed the shot. He faced the direction where the
Hanyek
sat and waited for his men to gather their bounty.

Daylight, and the fog, rolled through the forest. Two
Mountains and his followers were cautiously working their way through the
woods, knowing that the shroud of the mist was the ideal cover for an ambush,
either by the Gohorma or by
kegars
.
Since it was daytime as well, they knew they should almost be in the Sun
Valley. Whatever they’d seen glowing in the trees was certain to be close by.

A flash of green. Brighter than any leaf or shrub, almost as
bright as the sun. It was far ahead of them—accompanied by a sound of a
crash and something falling to the ground.

Two Mountains held up his hands. All halted. Everyone had
seen the flash and heard the sound. If one of the party was still skeptical
about the lights in the night sky, and perhaps was not swayed by the loud roar
overhead or the glowing light in the forest, they now knew that something
ethereal was in their midst. Some warriors drew their weapons. Two Mountains gripped
his bow, pulling the string taut and aiming it at the woods ahead of them.
There were faint noises ahead of them. Leaves crashing. Some growls.

Was there some beast afoot that could shine a green light?

“I’m advancing!” Two Mountains whispered. Out of curiosity,
and also because of the honor of not running away from the fight, the others
followed Two Mountains. Their spears were extensions of their bodies, their
bows the vanguards of their being. Finally, as daylight came upon them, they
had come across what they sought. Every footstep brought them into the mist,
closer to the sounds. They moved slowly, as if stalking.

Soon outlines became visible in the fog.

***

“Commander!” one of the soldiers shouted. Grinek had heard
the noises for about a minute, thinking it was his men in the leaves, but then
realized the sounds signaled something much more numerous. He turned to his men
and the fallen ungulate. Shapes moved through the woods.

***

One creature was recognizable, the dead
grassa
on the ground. The other four were not: they were very tall,
about the same height as a
grassa
but standing on two bent legs, almost
like normal people. They also had tails, though ones thicker than Two Mountains
and his warriors. What Two Mountains presumed were their heads were angular,
with long noses and upright, feathery ears. They held huge branches or spears
in their hands, possibly clubs. On their bodies were what looked like cloth.

They certainly weren’t people. And they certainly weren’t
animals.

Two Mountains had never been so mystified in his twenty-odd
years. He kept his arrow trained on the figures. He saw the whites of their
round eyes dart around as the creatures reacted to the hunting party moving
toward them. Two Mountains maintained his position at the head of his party, his
warriors forming a half-circle around the beings. He could feel his own tail
throbbing with anxiety.

Were these messengers from God? Or demons?

***

Roughly two-dozen warriors stood before them in a half
circle. They were inching closer, forming a noose around the four commandos.
These were not any alien known to science: they were vaguely canine, with thin
bodies and short tails with furry bulbs at the end. Silky brown hair covered
much of their bodies. Their eyes were small and narrow, like many of the
Earthmen Grinek encountered when he was last in Tokyo.

Natives, Grinek instantly realized. He aimed his pistol at
his foes. They probably wouldn’t recognize that as a hostile act, so he had no
fear of a reaction. But what was the intention of these beings? Were they
hostile or curious? Something seemed especially primitive about them, with
their use of animal skins as clothing and the bows and arrows they held in
their hands. Evidently, they were a warrior culture, much like Grinek’s own. So
there was at least one thing redeeming about them.

But even the most fearsome primitive warrior was no match
for a Kotaran. Each Kotaran stood side-by-side with each other, covering an end
of the half-circle in front of them.

***

The creatures had no apparent weapons. This being the case,
Two Mountains wondered how they had felled the
grassa
. Clearly, there was no way he could find out who they were
and what they were doing unless he studied them more—or unless he tried
communicating directly.

He relaxed his bow and moved out of his fighting stance.
This move got the attention of the creatures, as they all directed their
attention at him, pointing their clubs in his direction. Still hesitant about
getting too close, Two Mountains stepped briefly ahead of his alert comrades.
He bowed slightly, his arms outstretched.

“Welcome,” he said. There was no reply, and the creatures
looked almost blank in their reaction. If they were from God, would they not
speak the language of the divine one’s people?

“We are tribesmen from Hedda,” Two Mountains said. “I am Two
Mountains. Please, tell me who you are.”
 
Still there was nothing from these strangers. Two Mountains sensed that
not even a spear could cut the tension between the warriors and these
creatures. A decision must be made about what to do, and quickly.

***

The native who stepped out said something. Complete
gibberish, of course, but this action was useful to Grinek because it indicated
who the leader was. All the better. Grinek kept his pistol pointed, and noticed
how the leader was not advancing beyond a few paces ahead of his line.
Obviously, he kept his distance because he expected an attack. An attack from
his own side, with a hail of spears and arrows.

How primitive and foolish these natives were. They were
obviously not the relatives of Kotarans, or at least not the ones waiting for
their children to return. Looking at their thin bodies and meager weapons,
Grinek could only conclude yet again that Kotarans were on the final end of the
evolutionary scale. These natives had possibly been around for millions of
years, and yet they were so simple as to make their intentions transparent!
That was always an advantage for the more superior culture. Grinek reasoned he
could pass himself off as a god, but he thought that might require too much
effort. He could always be a deity with another tribe.

“Men, when I holster my weapon, fire on these natives.”

“Yes, Commander!”

***

Two Mountains reasoned that the tall creature holding a shiny
rock toward him was their leader, because his actions were independent of all
the others. Their movements were much like those of people, and Two Mountains
believed that they must have been some kind of people themselves. If they were
messengers from Heaven, or even from across the vast lake said to be on the
other side of the valley, he still wanted to know.

“Why have you come to us?”
 
Two Mountains asked. “Are you from
God?”
 
The tall creature said
something Two Mountains did not understand. Again, it sounded like growling, as
if from a
temulen
or
grassa
or kegar. There were sounds and
syllables and probably words, but it was not a language Two Mountains
understood, and he knew the languages of some neighboring nations.

Part of Two Mountains wanted to walk up to the creatures and
gauge their reaction that way. Perhaps physical contact might spur some better
communication. His other half won out, however—it said to back away
quickly. The memory of the thunderous bird earlier, and the green flash and the
dead
grassa
, came quickly to him, and
when the lead creature placed the shiny rock to his side Two Mountains froze.
Then he dropped to the ground. As he did, he saw the three other creatures
twitch and move their clubs.

***

Rapid-fire bursts shot in every direction. On Grinek’s
orders, the soldiers fired into the natives with bolt after neon bolt.

Many fell immediately, and there was much panic among the
ranks of warriors that faced them. A few arrows and spears were let off, but
most natives seemed to have collapsed into the brush, burned along with the
leaves and tree trunks they stood amid. None comprehended what felled them.

Grinek saw the lead native fall to the ground and roll,
disappearing into the vanishing mist before Grinek could aim.

Something fell beside Grinek. The Commander crouched low,
seeing no remaining natives, and twisted his body to see what the thump was.
One of his soldiers, the one who shot the ungulate, had been felled with an
arrow to the eye. Both remaining soldiers crouched to inspect the body, ogling
more than mourning. The soldier was unmoving; the arrow was deep in his eye,
probably having reached the brain.

“What was his name?” Grinek asked. One soldier appeared
shocked by the question, but quickly regained his composure.

“Miyel, Commander,” he answered in a hushed tone, if the
natives could hear.

“Remember Miyel, then,” Grinek replied. He stood and
holstered his pistol. “Miyel was the first Kotaran to both die and be murdered
on this planet. Once we have conquered this area we will rename this forest in
his honor.”
 
The soldiers seemed
satisfied at that, and Grinek checked off another propaganda coup for the
people back home. He peered into the forest, where the fog was clearing. There
were no sign of any more natives.