Enemy Papers

by Barry B. Longyear

  Nicole held out her hand. “Child… Benga, tean. The fire… aakva; aakva…” The words just wouldn’t come. “Help. Help me.”

  She squatted, grabbed one of the youngsters beneath its arms, and lifted it. Keeping an unwavering gaze on her, the third child moved cautiously toward the door. When it reached the door. it stopped.

  “Nue su korum, Irkmaan?”

  Nicole shook her head. “No-ne. I won’t kill you. Ne korum.”

  The child stooped down, tried to lift the other unconscious youngster, then slumped against the wall, exhausted.

  Nicole dragged the child she was holding into the big room. Half of the paper-covered floor was blazing, and she put the child down in the stairwell to go back for another load. Back at the door, she picked up the second child and helped the third to its feet.

  “Let’s go: Benga.”

  They reached the stairwell, Nicole deposited the two children with the first, then she stumbled up the stairwell to see if they could get out that way. As soon as the flame-filled opening for the upper floor came into view, she turned and ran back down the stairs. As she reached bottom, she knelt next to the semi-conscious Drac and shook it by the shoulders. “Wake up. Loamaak, tean! Is there an outside entrance to here-echey?”

  Nicole pointed at the flaming room. “Where? Is there a door? Gis istah cha? Echey?”

  The child nodded and pointed toward the wall away from the flames. “Istah.” It pulled at its belt and held out a heavy key and strap. Nicole took the key, grabbed the first youngster, and began moving down the wall. She passed two of those barred windows, then came to a door. Books and papers were piled up in front of it, and the flames were getting closer as she thrust the key into the lock.

  “This thing better open outward.”

  She turned the key to the left, then the right. The lock wouldn’t budge. Hell, the little jerk gave me the wrong key!

  “Queda, Irkmaan!”

  She looked through the flames and saw the one who had handed her the key bending over the third child.

  “Ess?”

  “Queda!” It lifted an arm and made a pushing motion with its hand. “Istah queda nu!”

  Nicole pushed the key hard, the door swung open onto the remains of a small sunken garden, and both she and the Drac sprawled through the opening. In the distance she could just make out a few dim figures moving nearer. Her lungs were too raw for her to call to them. She pulled the child away from the door and returned for the other two.

  The room was a furnace, and as a blast washed her face, she closed her eyes against the heat, her eyes feeling as though their sockets were made out of sandpaper.

  Shielding her eyes with her hand, Nicole moved down the wall until she stumbled over the two children in the stairwell. She pulled one up, threw it over her shoulder, and tried to pull the other up by its arm.

  “Dasu! Benga dasu!”

  Using her arm for a crutch, the child pulled itself up and began slapping her in the head.

  “Aakva!”

  “Are you crazy? Poorzhab?”

  “Su aakva!” It kept slapping her head.” Su lode aakva!”

  “My head…” Her hair was burning! She grabbed both of the children, shut her eyes.

  …and ran for the door, her feet kicking slowly through heavy oil, the heat taking the breath from her lungs, unseen things striking her head, the chilling wonder of a cold paving stone against which to place her face… voices… hands… an end to pain…

  …Motion.

  In some kind of vehicle. She could hear the hum and feel the roughness beneath the wheels. She tried to open her eyes, but she couldn’t.

  She tried to lift a hand to touch her face, but her arm was bound. And numb. Her entire body was numb.

  “Major Nicole? Can you hear me? Major Nicole?”

  “Yes.” The word came out harsh and dry. Her throat was on fire. “What’s happened?… Who are you?”

  “You’ve been badly burned, and the field surgeon thinks you might also have a concussion.”

  “Mitzak?”

  “Yes.”

  She swallowed, but there was nothing to swallow. “Throat dry.”

  She felt a tube inserted between her lips, she sucked on it, and a slightly cool, soothing liquid filled her mouth. The tube was withdrawn, and she swallowed. “Mitzak, what about the kids? The three Drac kids?”

  “They are alive.” He was silent for a long moment. “Three children out of a school of two hundred and sixty.” He coughed. “You’re being taken to a health science kovah, Major.”

  They rode silently for a while, the roughness under the wheels smoothing out. “Mitzak, why are my eyes bandaged?”

  “Burned. The field surgeon packed and bandaged them. I don’t know your prognosis. The surgeon never said.” A sneer crept into Mitzak’s voice. “It was very busy. You know, the war and all.”

  “Where is… Sergeant Benbo?”

  Mitzak coughed again. “They’re dead, major. Your soldiers. All of your soldiers. There were four direct hits on the V’Butaan field…”

  Nicole grabbed the edges of her litter as the voice faded and the darkness of her universe swam…

  FIVE

  Nothingness is a tool of the mind: the useful naught of the mathematician, builder, and accounts keeper. Nothingness is not a state either of mind or of being. All that which exists will always exist; all who exist will always exist. All that changes is form and the perception, of form.

  The Talman

  The Story of Uhe. Koda Ovida

  Time.

  The perception of time ceased.

  Darkness surrounded her.

  The ointment on her face, neck, and hands removed sensation from them. She could feel her body, but it was as though her head were floating free of it. It was an almost pleasant feeling. She was freed from the sensory overkill of everything that had gone before. Even more, she was freed from the everyday distractions, allowing the senses she could use to sharpen, making commonplace things new and exciting.

  There would be a buzz-an insect? A piece of electrical equipment? It was not important. The sound itself became a thing of substance, the peaks and valleys of the undulating waves surfaces upon which she could glide.

  …The whine of compressors; the staleness of reprocessed air; dim talk:

  “This is cargo I never thought would soil my ship.”

  Paper crackling.

  “Read this. kiz for brains. and take good care of her.”

  An angry snort. a short silence, more paper crackling.

  “Magasienna! This? This is the ward of the-”

  “As I said. take good care of her…”

  …She stopped her swim through blackness long enough to remember that sergeant who had explained her USEF insurance and liability retirement schedule.

  So much for an arm, so much for a leg, so much for an eye…

  …Her first assignment after officer’s school, shuffling electrons, keeping an eye on Drac commercial traffic. Intelligence had gotten the word from somewhere. They were preparing even then for the war; putting together the language, codes, slang, procedures, organization, power…

  Dim voices in the distance… the hum of a strong electrical field…

  …Analysis of the situation on Amadeen.

  The humans requesting USEF units to protect them against Drac terrorists. Intercepting a message to the Dracon Fleet from the Amadeen Mavedah requesting Fleet protection against the terrorists of the Amadeen Front…

  …The training officer in alien systems.

  “To anticipate the moves of an opponent, you must be familiar with the rules that govern his thoughts, goals, and actions. What seems logical to you probably won’t seem logical to some frog-faced thing that never heard of Aristotle or Boole. But what seems logical to it probably won’t seem logical to you…

  “…To be logical is to be consistent with a set of rules. And every race that exists in this galaxy has evolved its own set of rules; its ow
n logic; its own unique perception of the universe and its relationship to that universe…

  “…The ultimate nature of the universe is relationships, rules; what we call the laws of nature are rules common to most races. Everything else, the whole of intelligent life, is governed by rules of invention.

  “Justice on the planet Aluram is a different thing than it is among humans. The criminals on Aluram, as well as the criminal’s parents, siblings, and children suffer the same punishment. If the punishment is death, all die. This is not justice through human eyes. But if you could see through the eyes of an Aluramin, it would be justice. The Aluramin decided good and bad for their race, then invented social sanctions against the bad. And whether bad behavior is a matter of environment or heredity, it makes good sense to remove those who do bad from the race’s gene pool. They have very little of what they call crime on Aluram.

  “Very logical…”

  Another day? Another week? Another year? The voices would fade in and out… the humming…

  “…Mitzak?”

  “I am here.”

  “Why? Why are you here?”

  “It should not concern you.”

  “Why are you here?”

  A laugh. “You have become a talma, Major. You are my path out of this war and back to the Talman Kovah.”

  “I don’t understand.”

  “There is no reason why you should…”

  “…The Shikazu race of Tenuet founded its logic upon the premise that the Shikazu can never be conquered. The race flourished within this logic-this sense of the nature of the universe. Then the Shikazu were conquered, and now they are extinct…”

  …She walked upon Baina Ya again, stood upon the slips beneath the chalk cliffs of Kidege, and looked out to the sea. Her hair blew in the cool salt breeze.

  In the distance was Mallik’s skimmer; its silver foils in the deep blue-green water mirroring the sunlight, blinding her.

  She spoke into the handset. “Mallik, how was your catch?”

  “Good, Jo. A fine haul, but nothing compared to what I will catch tonight.”

  “Mallik!”

  “My scoops will net round, soft, and warm things-”

  “Mallik! You are on a radio! Do you want the world to hear?”

  “Joanne, the world knows…”

  “…The Timans evolved next to two other intelligent races. Physically and numerically the Timans could not contest the other races, and any kind of physical combat was an early bad to them. But the survival of their race dictated their set of goods. It is logical for a Timan to seek social control over others. And it is logical for a Timan to use such control to manipulate others toward paths of self-destruction.

  “While the other races of the planet sharpened their skills at war, the Timans learned how to turn rules back upon themselves. And now, despite their still small numbers, the Timans are one of the most influential races represented in the Ninth Quadrant Federation. The two races that evolved with them are now extinct. Genocide to the Timan is logical…”

  …The humming stopped. The voices were very close…

  …Someone handling her arm; a low, muttered “kiz,” footsteps, voices:

  “Jetah Pur Sonaan, see this.”

  Silence. A new voice. “The skin should be healing… these cracked areas running with red and yellow fluid.”

  “The human’s skin reacts differently to the ointment than ours.”

  “This was a conclusion that even your master could reach, Vunseleh.”

  “Jetah, I meant no disrespect-”

  “Remove the bandages and wash off the ointment-” A deep shocked silence. “Her eyes. Her eyes, you fool! Hurry…”

  It seemed so easy for her to direct her mind away from the threatening, the uncomfortable.

  Mind, she would say, look at Mallik. And she would see Mallik.

  Move among the stars, mind. And she would see great blinding spheres race by.

  She explored the bottoms of oceans, the layers of clouds surrounding gas giants, tangled tropic jungles…

  …A fog of sound; her head on a dizzy high; the smell of flowers; the singsong that was Dracon:

  “…Joanne Nicole, can you see this light?”

  …Light? What light? Her lips felt thick and fuzzy as she tried to speak. “I can’t see anything unless I open my eyes.” She tried to open her eyes.

  “I don’t seem to be able to open them.”

  “…They are open, Joanne Nicole…”

  Hours or years later, her mind allowed what she had perceived before to be explored. Blind? Was this the horror so many feared? Not to see?

  She swam in drug-soaked dreams; seeing. Seeing things she had never seen with eyes.

  …I should react, feel.

  But she was detached from her pain, from her awareness, from her feelings. The darkness was something warm, friendly, comfortable. Long stretches of silence, sleep, and a delicious, drugged something between nonexistence and being. Thought, feeling, and reality were mundane irrelevancies as she let herself drift endlessly upon black billows…

  …Bursts of light, sound, the taste of copper. The dirt and rock glowing, exploding; the blue streaks of assault landers against the night sky.

  Benbo’s face floating in front of her. “We lost the foothills, Major. But toadface paid for them.”

  “How much did we pay to collect, Sergeant? How much did we pay to collect?”

  His confused expression disappeared in a flash of white…

  It seemed as though she had been treading water endlessly; but she was not tired. Numb, detached; but not tired. And Joanne Nicole took notice of voices. Sound-any sensation-was something approaching a gift. The voices became louder.

  “Jetah, the human master is in the corridor. She is a female.”

  “Send her in, Mitzak. And be restrained. She is Akkujah vemadah and owes us no favors.”

  Footsteps.

  “Your name-ha! Your skin! It is yellow!”

  “No shit, toadface. So is yours.”

  “Yes, but… I didn’t mean… your name?”

  “Tokyo Rose. And who is this one?”

  “Leonid Mitzak, Captain.”

  “No guts for the Madah, eh Mitzak?” A pause. “Where’s the patient?”

  Pur Sonaan’s voice. “Here, then, is the human you were told of, Tokyo Rose.”

  More footsteps. Nicole felt a presence over her, then a gentle hand on her face.

  “What is her name?”

  “Joanne Nicole.”

  “Very well, you scumbuckets take off while I examine her.”

  “…You want us to leave the room?”

  Silence, then soft footsteps, as the hand moved and a finger pulled at the skin above first the left, then the right eye.

  “Damn…” The hand left Nicole’s face. “Nicole? Nicole? Can you hear me?”

  As she answered, her mouth felt fuzzy. “Is that you, Tokyo Rose?”

  Surpressed laughter. “Captain Tegara. I’m a doctor. What in the hell did they do to you?”

  Nicole heard Tegara moving some objects around on a hard surface. “Fire. I was in a fire.”

  Again Tegara bent over Nicole and opened her right eye. “You must be someone pretty special, Nicole. Toadface pulled me out of the Madah on Akkujah to give you a checkup. Can you see anything with your right eye?”

  “No.”

  A click. “Now?”

  “No. Tegara, what’s happening with the war?”

  Her hand moved to Nicole’s left eye. “Up until my unit was snagged, everybody seemed to be losing. Can you see anything with your left eye?”

  “No.”

  “Where did they get you?” A click. “Anything now?”

  “No. I was garrisoned on Catvishnu.”

  “Catvishnu?” She moved away; more objects clattering. “We didn’t think anyone lived through that.”

  “I’m about it.” Nicole felt Tegara lift her left arm; “Well? What about my eyes?”

/>   A pause. “There’s nothing anyone can do about your eyes, Nicole. Maybe if you can get to a USE hospital. I don’t have either the skills or the equipment. It looks as though they used some of their own burn ointment on you. The surfaces of both eyes have been burned and stained black. I think the damage might be repairable, but not here. A lot depends on how long the ointment was used.”

  “What do my eyes… look like?”

  “Wall-to-wall black.” She lowered Nicole’s left arm, then walked behind her head and picked up her right arm. “You’re going to look like a boiled beet for a while, but I think the scarring on your skin will be minor.” She lowered the arm. “Are you in any pain?”

  “No. None at all. In fact, I can’t feel much of anything. It’s like I’ve been swimming in morphine for a hundred years.”

  “Catvishnu was a while back. Can you feel that?”

  “Feel what?”

  “How about that?”

  Nicole felt something. “A pressure; scratching on my upper right arm?”

  Tegara called out: “Hey, toadface!” There was the return of soft footsteps.

  “Yes, Tokyo Rose?”

  “Cut the amount of that d’nita anesthetic you are giving her by fifty percent. Understand?” Light scratching, then paper ripping. “Here. Do you understand what that says?”

  “Yes. They are common chemicals.”

  “Make that up exactly as I have specified and spread it gently on the burned areas of her skin-not her eyes-every four hours… six times a day. Understand?”

  “Yes. Can you do anything for her vision?”

  “You don’t have the equipment; and you need a specialist-a special kind of health master, understand? I can’t do anything except to keep telling you kizlodes to stop using that burn ointment on humans.”

  The Jetah was silent as it absorbed the loathing in Tegara’s voice. “What equipment and what skills are necessary?”

  Tegara laughed, ignoring the Jetah’s question. “Nicole, I have to go now.”

  “Can’t you stay?” Nicole’s hand grabbed at empty air, then fell back to the bed.

  “No. I’m sorry, but the Madah on Akkujah is full of sadsacks that need me more than you do. Almost four thousand of them, and I’m the only doctor. Once you get to a USE hospital… Maybe not. Anyway, the war won’t last forever.”