Free The Fifth Civilization: A Novel by Peter Bingham-Pankratz

you were done with
narcos.”
    “Goddammit, Masao.”   Roan shoved the com into David’s face. “Say something, David.”
    “Um…hello…”
    “Am I telling the truth, David?”
    “Yes, Mr. Roan.”
    “Now say something in your own language.”
    David considered this for a moment, then let loose a few
sentences in his native tongue. To Roan, it all sounded like a congested,
cawing crow, but he hoped it was enough to convince Masao. In his twenty years
of service to the Company, Masao had picked up a bit of the language as he
accepted runs to Nydaya every few months or so. Roan returned the com to his
own ear.
    “Do you believe me now?”
    “Well, he sounds Nyden. And I know you couldn’t be counted
on to learn proper grammar in English, much less an alien language.”
    “Look, Masao. Turn on the BV if you have to. There’s bound
to be something about the Yuko Mall. This is important.”
    “I’m not really in a position to do that right now…” There
was rustling and a feminine giggle on the other end. All the telltale signs
that Masao decided it was prudent to go clubbing in Tokyo the night after
returning from two months in deep space.
    “I don’t care. Masao, I need to use your credit account.”
    “My what?”   Credit accounts were usually confidential, and your money secure from
prying eyes, unless there was some reason why your account was a threat to
planetary security. In the aftermath of what happened at the mall, Roan was
sure the Japanese police were perusing his account. All they had to do to track
him was monitor his withdrawals. He was even taking too much of chance talking
on the com.
    “You heard me. I need some tickets to the Tubes.”
    “The Tubes? You’re crazy. You’re on the run from the police
and you want to flee the planet?”
    “Remember the Kotarans, Masao.”
    “The Company’s going to raise hell about this. You’ll
probably be sacked.”
    “No time to worry about that. Masao, I need your account.
Mine will only get me caught.”
    “Don’t you have an extra one, Nick? For emergencies?”
    “Can’t say I do.”   He did at one point, before it
was overdrawn and shut down. So long, Mr. Jed Smith of Okinawa. That was for
another age. Luckily, Roan had stayed within the law since then and hadn’t
needed to withdraw sixty grand in the night.
    “ Chikushou ,” Masao
breathed. He was doing some major contemplating. Skimmers shot by outside, each
one a potential police cruiser. “Can’t you ask the Nyden?”
    Roan turned to David, cradling the com near his chest. “You
have any money?”
    David squawked. “Yes, I have an expense account.”
    “Is it in your name?”
    “Yes. Why wouldn’t it be?”
    Roan returned the com to his ear. “Nope, he doesn’t have
one.”
    “Fine, I’m coming up there.”
    “Masao, you don’t have to meet us anywhere.”   On the other end of the line, something
rustled and moaned. Masao shushed whoever was in his bed.
    “No no no, Nick, I do. I ain’t the kind of person to give
out account numbers on a whim. Where are you now?”
    Ahead of them, the buttresses of the Tokyo spaceport gleamed
in the sunlight. The vast terminal and the monolithic control towers seemed
like paradise for Roan, their gate to safety and for an end to this earthly
madness.
    “We’re just a few minutes from the spaceport. I want to get
a ticket up to the Tubes, and then get to the Entrepot. How soon can you be
here?”
    “Give me fifteen. Where are you trying to go, anyway?”
    Might as well tell him. “There’s a Company ship to Orion
today. Kel’s going to be on it.”
    “Oh boy. That’s going to be fun.”   On Masao’s end, there was a zip and the
ruffling of a coat. Masao was probably running his arms through his jacket
sleeves and walking to the door. Roan heard Masao murmur a command in Japanese
to wait for a few hours and a sigh in response. As he listened to all this
trivial noise, Roan realized that the longer he was on the com the