The Enemy Papers

by Barry B. Longyear

  "Okay," says the captain's voice through our headsets, "here we go." The artificial gravity disengages and in the background I hear Yora counting, "Four, three, two, one, slam it!" An enormous unseen hand crushes my chest as the ship yaws sharply to the right and the acceleration of the engines begins shaking the deck and bulkheads. The deafening roar distorts the voices of Eli and Yora as my fingers dig into the couch's armrests. Another yaw to the left, then I feel my internal organs pushing against my throat as the Aeolus rolls over into a power dive that seems to last forever. I fight my eyes open, glance into the cockpit, and gasp as I see flames through the front viewport!

  "Atmospheric friction," yells Davidge. "It's okay. We're past the quarantine. You're home."

  Home. This burning heart of hell. Soon, though, the flames clear and we are flying above ice-covered mountains.

  Home. I have not had a home since the Battle of Gitoh. On Friendship I had allowed my fantasies to see myself in Davidge's cave as a child, learning book and line, and all of the skills Haesni was learning: to hunt the snake, cure skins, sew, prepare food, make beds, clothes, and boots.

  Home.

  Falna had a fire set then a missile sent into the cave where it had been reared and the fantasy was over. It will still be three months before Estone Nev reaches Falna's side at the Karnarak. Will the old Drac have the strength to strangle the life out of its namechild's child, the end of its line? Does Falna deserve such love?

  "We'll cross the terminator in a minute," says the captain's voice through the headset. I release my straps, climb off the couch, and go to the cockpit in time to see us skimming across the surface of the Shordan Sea approaching the coast, the distant Silver Mountains bathed in reds and oranges from the setting sun. According to the data from the QF surveys, Zenak Abi and its band should still be somewhere in the Silver Mountains. As we make landfall I notice smoke and thin green threads of energy knives firing toward the southeast. A short distance in from the shore is a lake next to the fighting. I recognize it: Sharing. They are fighting in Riehm Vo one more time, liberating the previously liberated town liberated previously from the other side's liberators.

  "Better strap in, Ro," says Yora. "We'll put down soon."

  I nod and go back to my couch, my heart filled with the seeming hopelessness of our task. I notice Davidge, Sally, Cudak, and Reaper also thinking to themselves in this moment before commitment. After strapping myself in and putting on my headset, I lean back, close my eyes, and try to focus on the breaths entering and leaving my body.

  "Crossing the terminator," says Eli.

  I look over at Davidge. "Will, was the Ovjetah's nameparent a military leader of great promise, as the Ovjetah leads at the Kovah and the Jetai Diea and Zammis leads in business?"

  The human is silent for a moment. "No. Jerry was a fighter jock, same as me. Neither of us had a list of kills to brag about. Jerry was my third."

  "How many did Shigan have!"

  Davidge smiles. "Jerry never did say how many kills it had. I always suspected I was number one. Disappointed?"

  "I am not disappointed. Simply confused. You insist that you are just a man and that your enemy and friend was just a Drac, yet the two of you inspired the colonization of an entire planet."

  He rubs his chin, glances at Kita, and shrugs as he again faces me. "Ro, Jerry was a very ordinary being with only one extraordinary power: it loved. It loved life, Draco, its line, The Talman, and the child it never got to see." His voice grows rough. "Jeriba Shigan taught me to love by loving me. Its monument is Planet Friendship and the continuation of the Jeriba line." He turns his head and faces me. "If this talma isn't a disaster, if we do bring about peace on Amadeen, it will be because of that love working through me, and all of us."

  My headset crackles with Eli's voice. "We're over the mountains, quite a ways in from Mt. Atahd. The sensor shows a population in one of the narrow valleys down there. They don't seem to be military units. Going in. Yora, hit the shields, just in case."

  I feel us going down and down, each moment expecting the landing shock, each moment going down farther until I feel that we must be beneath the crust of the planet. At last comes the gentle nudge of Amadeen against the landing skids. As the engines whine down, I release my straps and go to the cockpit. I stand between Eli's and Yora's couches and look into the darkness through the viewport. There are several small handheld lights visible and one of the persons holding those lights turns it on its own face. I turn to the pilot. "Drop the shields and shut it down, Eli. That's Zenak Abi."

  The captain flips a few switches and looks up at me as he releases his straps. "Perhaps now we find out why one must be careful about what one asks for."

  I am the first down the ramp, the familiar smell of the cold mountain air sharp in my nostrils. Zenak Abi meets me at the bottom of the ramp, still wearing its human trousers. There is a new scar upon its chin, but that same expression of poorly concealed amusement. "Welcome home, Yazi Ro. Have you finished your shopping?"

  I hand Abi a copy of the Koda Nusinda. As it takes the manuscript in its hands, I say, "My shopping is done, Jetah. I will be interested to see if any of my presents fit."

  Zenak Abi purses its lips and looks at my comrades, its gaze stopping on Davidge. "I don't suppose these gifts can be returned."

  Davidge slowly shakes his head. "All sales are final, Zenak Abi."

  The Jetah's amused expression dissolves into something more desperate as it glances at its friends standing in the dark, and looks down at the manuscript. Its hands are trembling. "Well. I suppose we should go home and try them on."

  THIRTY-EIGHT

  In its new cave, an abandoned copper mine deep in the mountains a half hour hike from where we landed, Zenak Abi and the leaders of its nomadic community assemble. In a large chamber, a number of Abi's people stand and lean against the walls while the rest sit on crates, rocks, and the floor and listen as I recount the story of Abi's talma, where it led me, and the plans for its implementation on Amadeen. As I talk, I see Abi's people―both humans and Dracs―eyeing me and my comrades. By their expressions, some of them look interested. Others seem skeptical, a few look disapproving, and the rest look terrified.

  "We will be an independent force of humans and Dracs who have but one function: to render the attempted sabotage of a truce an act of absolute futility. A terrorist of Black October, Tean Sindie, or some other faction who opposes a truce will be noticed as it plans and prepares its outrage. As it moves to commit its atrocity, it will be targeted. Before it strikes, if possible, we will stop the terrorist by killing it and leaving behind signs and notices identifying us as the executioners and why we did what we did. If the act is committed before we can stop it, we will find the ones responsible and kill them, leaving behind the appropriate notices."

  "This is how we end killing?" demands a bearded human leaning against the wall to my right.

  "No," I answer. "This is how we end war." I look at the faces and I feel myself smiling as I turn, face my comrades, and look back at Abi's people."What you all must think of us I can only imagine. Some of you were born into this community, but most of you deserted from the fighting. When I left Amadeen, I too felt myself liberated from the killing and the dying. There is a magnificent universe out there, a universe of peoples, riches, knowledge, and endless wonders, the most precious of these being peace. I have had only a taste and the last thing I wanted to do is return here to everything I hate." I look at the Jetah sitting in its chair next to Davidge.

  "Zenak Abi put in a seed it hopes will grow into peace. Until we can establish this plant so that it can survive on its own, we are going to have to feed it blood, both yellow and red. I want this peace more than anything else in the universe. That is why I am here. You must decide for yourselves why you are here."

  In some faces I see that I have not said enough. In others I see that I have said too much. We do not need everyone; only a few. I was so certain, though, that those who were born on Amadeen
and whose parent was war would see what I see. Too many, though, are tired. They put down gun and knife, ran to the mountains, and are too weary to pick them up again.

  Zenak Abi places its hands upon the armrests of its crude chair and pushes itself up until it is standing. Without looking at its people or addressing them, Abi speaks directly to me. "I am so very proud of you, Yazi Ro. I begged the universe to grant me an answer to Amadeen's pain, and it sent me you. Please understand our disappointment that the answer is not magic."

  There is one dark human with black hair and a huge black mustache flecked with gray. He is carrying two young children in his arms: a Drac and a little girl. He steps away from the wall where he is standing, hands the children to Davidge and turns to me. "I am Ali Enayat. Where do I sign up?"

  Slightly dazed, I turn slowly and point toward Gay Cudak. "It has some questions, first."

  Cudak steps out, shakes hands with Ali Enayat, and says, "Let's go somewhere we can talk, Ali. Would you like a chocolate?" As Ali nods, Cudak continues without missing a beat. "I picked up some chocolates at the A'ja Cou Station and they just plain don't agree with me. I can slip you a couple for the kids, too. Now, where are you from, Ali? You look like a West Dorado man."

  "I am from Sakinah in the Western Dorado."

  "Sakinah? I know it well..." and off they go into a side passage in which, before he knows it, Ali Enayat will spill everything he knows about everything, including that most valuable piece of information: can he be trusted. All of his answers will be entered and compared with all of the information we have on the same topics and cross-indexed according to source, location, organization, and so on. Perhaps Ali will make a good interrogator. Perhaps he might be a former member of the Front who might be able to return to the Dorado and work his way into Black October or one of the other factions. With the two children to love and care for, perhaps all Ali can do is supply information about his former neighbors, associates, and comrades, describe organization, order of battle, who holds what office, how every single soldier, officer, advisor, and copyist does its job, looks, thinks, acts, lives, its relations, and thoughts, aspirations, ambitions, fears―everything. After a few screenings the information we obtained from the QF surveys will show how reliable it is. After a few hundred, we will know enough to send agents out and begin targeting.

  Another stands, a Drac wearing black clothes and a dreary look. It walks over to me and says, "I am Mila Nin. I once ran with the Thuyo Koradar out of Navune in the Northern Shorda."

  "Yes?"

  "I would contribute what I can. I, too, would see an end to war." I look around and Kita is coming forward. In moments she will be offering fruit candies and a friendly ear to the former gun for the Eye of the Killer. Before she can drag off the Drac, however, Mila Nin stops, faces me, and asks, "What will you call this police force? What is its name?"

  I look at Davidge and he shrugs and faces Zenak Abi. "We couldn't decide, so we agreed to let it be whatever we are called."

  There are suggestions, and I am secretly thrilled that the name I love, Aydan's Blade, comes immediately to the minds of so many of the Dracs, but that is also why it is inappropriate. The name must not say Drac or human. It must be something in between. Several of the humans make suggestions based on the beginnings being in a copper mine, copper being one of many English names for a police officer. Those names too are inappropriate, although we do choose the number twenty-nine, the atomic number of copper, to be our sign.

  Before the night is done, eleven of those in the mine volunteer to help, as do more than three hundred of those in the surrounding mountains. Within six days Kita and Cudak have selected and trained eight more interrogators, Reaper is training a school of forty-seven agents, and more of those in the mountains come to supply information and a few more to volunteer. Ghazi Mrabet's computer factory is in operation, already turning out a modified hand-held that includes a button camera which can send digital pictures back to the net. All I do is to train the agents in weapons, but most of my students know as much about that subject as I do. They are all from Amadeen.

  To a great degree, we are all having difficulty in finding out what I should do. I have neither the memory nor the audacity required to be an interrogator. Kita and Cudak joke that I would simply eat all the candy and tell the one I am screening everything. I have a suspicion as to what I should be doing. I have killed and there was a time when it was easy. But the easy killing takes place in a rage, and that is not how our agents do their work. As Reaper remarks, "They are not angels of vengeance destroying evil. They are surgeons removing a lump." It is something I think I can learn, but I avoid saying it in the hopes that no one else will mention it.

  In another eight days we send out our first agents: two to Black October in the Western Dorado, one to Green Fire in the Drac-occupied tip of the Southern Dorado, three to Tean Sindie in three different locations in the Shorda, and fourteen others to work themselves back into their old communities as simple villagers. Ali Enayat and Mila Nin are both agents in this first group. In another eight days we send out an additional thirty-one agents. Once they are established, all of the splinters and several of the most infamous individuals with reputations for reckless behavior have at least some coverage. In another month we expect to have regional nets recruiting and training, ever expanding our information base and our ability to respond to threats.

  Soon we develop our own language. Investigators are called "eyes," sleepers are "zees," and interrogators are "sweets." Code names become nicknames and nicknames become code names. Reaper stays Reaper, Davidge is Uncle Willy, Captain Moss is the Fly, Sally Redfeather is Tommy, as in Tommy Hawk, a joke that evades me, and so on. I name Kita Itchyboo from the thing she said in front of the cave back on Friendship: ichi-bu hachi ken, the phrase that means small errors can result in big mistakes. They refer to me as The Answer, but not to my face. They know I hate the name. The organization is known among ourselves simply as Navi Di, in Dracon. In English: The Peace.

  THIRTY-NINE

  Morning on the edge of the camouflaged site on the top of Mt. Rieka. I look away from the peaks at the reflection of an orbiting QF station, wondering if The Peace is now in the survey files, complete with names. We have done nothing for a hundred days except build the network, plant agents, and add to our data files. Nothing about us has been on the broadcasting stations, either Mavedah or Front. While the fighting continues around us, we learn, add information, and wait for the next attempt at a truce.

  "Peaceful here, isn't it?" I turn and see Davidge coming from the power platform concealed beneath some trees.

  I nod and return my gaze to the mountains, their foothills obscured by the early morning mist. A large avian glides effortlessly above the mist on its way up the valley toward a tiny lake. "Reaper says there are places like this on Earth. He called them the Rockies. Have you ever been there?"

  "Back when dinosaurs roamed the earth." He sees my puzzled look and smiles. "A very long time ago. My initial flight training was at a base in the Colorado admindis―administration district. That's right in the Rockies. The Silver Mountains are as big. Here we're closer to sea level, though. That's why we have more vegetation. I got to see the Himalayan Mountains once on earth when I flew over them. They make the Rockies look like a row of bumps. Then there are the mountains on Mars that make the Himalayas look like grains of sand. None of them, though, are as beautiful as these." He is silent for a moment and stands next to me.

  "Ro, it just came over the Mijii broadcast. The Mavedah has announced a new round of truce talks with the Amadeen Front. Mavedah invitations have gone out to the Tean Sindie, the Eye Killers, and the Sixteen to take part in the talks. No comment yet from the Front, but the Mavedah wouldn't have announced it without some kind of understanding with the Front already in the works. We haven't heard from any of the splinter groups either, but all of the investigators and sleepers have been put on notice."

  I feel it coming and there is no longer a
way to avoid it and be able to bear my own presence. "Will, there is nothing for me to do here. I train the few who are not familiar with all the available weapons, but that is something anyone can do. I cannot sit here on this mountain in safety while others take all the risks. I am going to become an agent, work my way back to Gitoh, and perhaps join Tean Sindie. It has a cell there. From there I can be much more useful."

  I look at the human and Davidge's gaze is fixed on the snow-covered peaks of the tallest mountains. "I respect your feelings, Ro, but I've got a much crappier job for you. I'm going to need help with it and I want you there."

  "What is the job?"

  "We've put together the means to investigate, identify, target, and execute truce violators and potential truce violators. To fulfill our part of the peace talma, the Navi Di must be able to act swiftly, decisively, and with certainty. We must be able to prove the ones we hit were involved in violating a truce or attempting to do so. We must act fast and we cannot afford to make a mistake. On the one hand, we can't drag our feet so that, the execution comes so late that no one remembers why it's done. On the other hand, we can't have our hitters knocking off suspects as the mood strikes them. The hits have to be authorized, and that means there must be someone or some group to authorize them. I have that job right now. Zenak Abi is joining me. I want you there to share it with us and to break tie votes."

  To order the deaths of others would be enough to fuel my nightmares for the rest of my life. To know, though, that one bad judgment would probably destroy the Navi Di and render the peace talma useless, that is responsibility sufficient to render risking my life as a happy assassin mere child's play. Ichi-bu hachi ken.