Enemy Papers

by Barry B. Longyear

  “What is it, Major?”

  Nicole shook her head. “Nothing. Just remember that every word you speak gives information to them.”

  Nicole was seated on one part of a long circular couch; Benbo to her right. On Benbo’s other side sat Leonid Mitzak. Far to her right sat Tora Soam, and directly across from her were the five Talman Masters. In the center of the couch arrangement were the dishes of food. Tora Soam began the ritual: “This is the bitter weed we eat to remember the Madah. Never shall we return.”

  Nicole heard the Talman Masters take up grain from the center table, and then replace it. Tora Soam continued: “For the second repast, we eat fruit and say: This is the fruit of the Irrveden, for which the Mavedah fought.”

  Everyone picked up the strange bulbs and tubers that the Dracs called fruit. Benbo handed Nicole hers, and her jaws ached as her eyes watered at the acid taste of the raw plant. “For the third repast, we eat nothing, for this is the legacy of Mijii who burned its people rather than submit to the rule of the Mavedah.”

  She touched nothing to her tongue, but the smell of charcoal was heavy in the air. “The fourth repast-the night repast-celebrates Uhe’s victory and the unification of the Sindie. This is the night repast; let us celebrate.”

  And then the food flowed. Strange meats, salads, ices, and cheeses passed her lips until her stomach sent up its all-full warning. Shortly after, the sounds of eating quieted, and she could hear the table being cleared. Benbo placed a hot mug into her right hand. “Here, Major. It tastes sort of like hot rubber soaked in dirty underwear.”

  She sipped at the brew as Baadek performed the peculiarities of introducing the guests to the host. Of course, Tora Soam knew all of those at the table. The introductions were more for the benefit of the guests. Baadek would move behind the person being described.

  “Ovjetah, this guest at the table is Jetah Zigh Caida, First Deputy of the Dracon Chamber.” Baadek moved behind the next guest: “Ovjetah, this guest…”

  The Drac side of the table was rank-heavy. Besides the first deputy of the Chamber, Draco’s governing body, there were: Raga Gia, Drac Fleet liaison officer to the Chamber; Xalta Lov, Nujetah, second master, of the Talman Kovah; Suinat Piva, Ovjetah of the Fangen Kovah, the school of social goal formulation; and Vikava Minose, liaison officer to the Chamber of the Denve Irkmaan-department of humans.

  Baadek stood behind Mitzak. “Ovjetah, this guest at the table is Leonid Mitzak, student of the Talman Kovah.” Footsteps. “Ovjetah, this guest at the table is Amos Benbo, vemadah.” Baadek stood behind her. “Ovjetah, this guest at the table is Joanne Nicole, vemadah.”

  Tora Soam opened the talk: “Fellow masters, I see your puzzled expressions at having humans at the repast. I shall explain. As Ovjetah of the Fangen Kovah, Suinat Piva has known for some time that the facilities of the Talman Kovah have projected an armed truce with the forces of the United States of Earth.”

  There was excited chatter among the Dracs. A deep, old-sounding voice interrupted the chatter. “Soam, how far has the projection been substantiated?”

  “It has been substantiated to the full capabilities of the kovah, Deputy Zigh.”

  Zigh Caida hissed. “This is of crucial importance. Why has not the Dracon Chamber been informed of this development?”

  It Just has-wait.” The grumbling from the Drac brass quieted down and Tora Soam continued. “There are several things upon which the occurrence and successful exploitation of this projected truce depend. The truce will follow immediately after a battle of certain configurations. This is a tactical matter, and the configurations will soon be made available to the Chamber and to the Dracon Fleet.”

  A voice spoke: “What has this to do with these humans Soam?”

  “Vikava Minose, you direct the Denve Irkmann.”

  “And?”

  “And have you ever talked with a human?”

  A pause. “No. But what of it?”

  Tora Soam paused. “The truce is a thing that can last only a moment and then lead to continued fighting; or it can lead to peace. Following the truce, Dracs and humans will gather to sort out and resolve the issues of the conflict. They will talk. The Talman Kovah has projected that you five, or your replacements, will probably be those who will represent the Dracon Chamber at the talks, provided that the battle mentioned takes place within the next eighty days.”

  The voice of Vikova Minose spoke: “Ovjetah, an enemy is an enemy. You were to speak to why these… humans are at your table.”

  Tora Soam answered, its voice slow and thoughtful. “When you face the humans. you will have in your hands the ability to bring this war to an end. You will also have the ability to throw three hundred worlds-Drac and human-back into war.”

  Deputy Zigh Caida spoke: “Soam, what does this have to do with your… other guests?”

  “It is simple, Deputy Zigh: if there is to be peace, or if there is to be more war, sense dictates that talma is best followed if the result is a matter of studied choice rather than a matter of ignorance, anger, or accident. One does not need to take to diagrams to see the truth in this. If all of you have at least some experience with human thinking, the chances of the negotiations being conducted and settled on an intelligent basis are improved-”

  “Wait!” The voice was Tora Kia’s.

  “My guests, this is Tora Kia, my firstborn. Why do you interrupt. Kia?”

  Footsteps entered the room. “Ah, my parent, in your game you have overlooked the two most important parties to the negotiations. Where is the Mavedah? Where is the Amadeen Front?”

  Raga Gia snorted out a scornful laugh. “I refuse to have the Front at the talks.” Its voice changed direction. “Does this comply with your game, Soam?” Raga’s voice turned again in Kia’s direction. “The United States of Earth will represent the interests of the Front, and the Dracon Chamber will represent the interests of the Mavedah.”

  Tora Kia laughed. “No, no, my parent’s most respected guest. The interests of the Dracon Chamber are not identical to those of the Mavedah.”

  Sergeant Benbo spoke for the first time. “Raga Gia, if the Front is no part of the negotiations, there can be no peace. If negotiations ever happen, the Amadeen Front will want its own representative. The Front only wants an end to the war under certain terms. It is the same with the Mavedah.”

  The direction of Tora Kia’s voice changed. “Human, how are you called?”

  “Amos Benbo.”

  “Have you done your time upon Amadeen, Amos Benbo?”

  “Yes. And you?”

  “Yes.”

  Zigh Caida spoke: “Kia and this human speak the truth, Soam. There will be four sides at the negotiations. I propose that we enlist Tora Kia to represent the Mavedah, and Amos Benbo to represent the Amadeen Front.”

  Nicole heard Mitzak stand. His voice sounded deeply troubled. “Ovjetah, I do not wish to participate in this game. I am a student at the Talman Kovah. Therefore, my loyalties, as well as my method of thinking, would corrupt my performance as a human.”

  “You are a human, Mitzak.” Tora Soam’s voice was deadly. “Whatever your views or methods of thinking, the first thing the Drac negotiators must overcome is the sight of your face.” She heard Mitzak sit down. “Very well, Deputy Zigh, we now have four parties to this session. Who shall begin?”

  “Ah, games such as this would best be left inside the walls of the Kovah,” Zigh grumped. “Very well, each side should formulate its goals-what it hopes to achieve from the negotiations. Once we have all seen the diagrams-”

  Nicole spoke: “There will be no diagrams, First Deputy. Human negotiators are not familiar with talma.”

  “Surely there must be a human equivalent?”

  “Situation assessment, goal formulation, and path construction and evaluation are not systemized disciplines among humans.”

  Exasperated wheezing seemed to come from First Deputy Zigh’s direction. The wheezing paused. “Goals must be stated in some manner!”


  Mitzak laughed. “Yes, they will be stated with force, bombast, and fine-sounding subjective phrases that cannot be taken literally. Their true goals must be deduced from the fog of words they will spread in front of you, and from their actions which will probably contradict what little true meaning their words might contain.”

  There was disturbed silence from the Drac side of the table until Ovjetah Suinat Piva of the Fangen Kovah burst out in laughter. “I see your game, Tora Soam. Very clever, and you have my compliments.”

  “My thanks, Piva. May we continue?”

  “Of course. Let us say that since Amadeen is the root of this war, we should hear first from the Front and the Mavedah.”

  Nicole felt Benbo stand up. “I think I can save some time here. The positions of the Mavedah and the Front are similar. The Front won’t be satisfied until every last Drac on Amadeen is either dead or removed from the planet.” He sat down.

  Tora Kia spoke. “And the Mavedah will settle for nothing less than the human population on Amadeen being either dead or removed. How much room, Tora Soam, does that leave you for problem solving?”

  “Apparently none, Kia. However, I think you already can see the error in depending upon the apparent for your answers. Joanne Nicole, would you state the position of the United States of Earth?”

  She rubbed her temples and let the stories of The Talman race through her mind. So much of talma involved goal choices; fitting the desired within the possible. She could not separate the formulas in her mind. “I would hear, first, the position of the Dracon Chamber.”

  A murmur of approval came from the Dracs. Then Zigh Caida spoke. “In gross phrases, then, we would see an end to the fighting-at least a confinement of the fighting to the immediate area of Amadeen. The Drac fleet would stand armed, as would the USE forces. But there would be no fighting.”

  “A ceasefire?”

  “Yes.”

  Nicole thought upon Zigh Caida’s words. “If war could continue upon Amadeen without our two sides fighting, why is there fighting now? The truce must include a truce upon Amadeen. A separation of the combatants by a policed, demilitarized zone.”

  Zigh Caida asked, “And, Joanne Nicole, who shall have the responsibility for policing this zone?”

  “A third party we could both agree upon; or a joint Drac-human force.”

  “Emmmm. This is… agreeable; but it does not solve the problem upon Amadeen. Amos Benbo?”

  “Yes?”

  “If we could establish a truce with a demilitarized zone in the manner described by Joanne Nicole, what would the Front’s position be?”

  “No change. The Front won’t put down its weapons until every last Drac on Amadeen is dead.”

  “What of the demilitarized zone?”

  “What of it?”

  Nicole shook Benbo’s arm. “Amos, quit fooling around.”

  She could feel the rock-hardness of Benbo’s muscles. “I am not joking. Tora Kia knows that I am not joking.”

  Zigh Caida’s voice changed direction. “Tora Kia?”

  “The human speaks the truth. The Mavedah has many old scores to settle. The Mavedah can settle for nothing less than Amadeen free of human life.”

  Tora Soam spoke. “Amos Benbo, your position does not allow the machinations of talma to work. There must be at least some degree of flexibility on your part; otherwise there can be no resolution.”

  “Let the Mavedah be flexible.”

  Tora Kia laughed. “My parent, you are more blind than Joanne Nicole. Can you not see that the Front and the Mavedah are way beyond rules? Beyond talma? They are beyond ultimate objectives. They are even beyond what will ultimately serve their own best interests. The Mavedah wants the Front dead; the Front wants the Mavedah dead.”

  “That serves nothing, Kia.”

  “My parent, until you have put in your time upon Amadeen, you have no idea what such position serves. But I will tell you what such a position serves. It serves death. On Amadeen, death must be served.”

  Nicole heard Kia’s footsteps move from the room. Later, Benbo talked to Tora Soam, saying much the same things said by Tora Kia. But while he talked, Nicole remembered that moment upon Storm Mountain when the Tsien Denvedah was falling back.

  The universe was extremely small at that moment. There were absolutely no considerations beyond the fact that the Dracs were falling back. Cooler heads would have seen that any resistance at that point was futile. But on Catvishnu, there were no cooler heads. No one was thinking about anything other than scoring against the Dracs, and to hell with other considerations.

  Tora Soam spoke, and its words filtered through her growing headache. “Joanne Nicole, do you have a comment?”

  She stood. “I would return to my apartments. Tora Soam?”

  “Yes?”

  “Your game has failed. And it is not because anyone of us wanted it to fail. It failed because it had to fail. If a truce should happen, it will die as it has to die. The war, then, will resume. Before there is any solution, much more blood must be spent.” Nicole held out her hand. “Baadek. Baadek!”

  A Drac hand enclosed hers. “Yes?”

  “Take me to my apartments. I have had enough of this foolishness.”

  TWELVE

  “Without a key, a door is a wall. Without a door, a key is but matter. A door with a key in the presence of mind is an opening. Without mind, neither the key, the door, nor the opening can exist.”

  The Talman

  The Story of Lita. Koda Ovsinda

  That night she awakened; the edges of some dream-sired horror still touching her; Mallik’s name still on her lips. There was a sound from the corridor-boots moving against the stone floor; then the boots moving slowly away. On her bed with all doors closed, Nicole breathed easily and allowed her thoughts to move at their own initiative. And as Eam’s thoughts spoke to it of the eventual end of life upon the planet Sindie, Nicole’s thoughts spoke to her.

  There was a fierce, lonely ache in her body. When she recognized that the ache was for Mallik, she shut it off. Other things… there were other things to think about.

  Tora Soam’s dinner party game. It had been a disaster. A human of similar rank, entertaining a roomful of equivalent human brass, would have been mortified. The guests would have been mortified as well. But as Baadek was leading her away, Nicole could hear the Dracs renewing the conversation in amiable, unconcerned voices.

  They were discussing the game, the game, much as, in the past, Nicole had seen humans chewing over a bridge or poker hand that had been completed. That was some sort of danger signal to her, because they were not humans; and they were not playing games.

  But the… alienness of those creatures is the thing that keeps escaping me. They could be human.

  Baadek had left Nicole at her door to return to the corridor and drive Benbo and Mitzak to their quarters. She would have liked to have talked with them more; but when she wanted the peace of her apartments, she reached out and called for Baadek.

  Why?

  She sat up and rubbed her eyes. Ever since her lights had been extinguished, she had been categorizing her experiences with the Dracs into analogs with humans.

  Vencha Eban, the Drac who cleaned the floors at the Chirn Kovah. It made no difference that it was a Drac and that I knew it was a Drac; I always think of Vencha as “the cleaning lady.” Eban is a simple, hardworking, “Maggie the Mop.”

  Baadek, the long-suffering family retainer. In my mind Baadek is every bit the comedic representation of the ex-slave running down the dirt road, tears in his eyes, blubbering his welcome as massa done come home fum de wawh.

  “Dammit, and what is Tora Soam?”

  The darkness around her absorbed the question, letting her see the answer. Mallik’s father, Eliem Nicole. Ever since she could remember, Eliem Nicole was the fishing village of Kidege’s sole lawyer. Quiet and thoughtful, it was a rare problem of any size in the town that didn’t eventually find its resolution on Eliem
Nicole’s desk.

  More often than not, the problem’s resolution cost the bearer nothing. And everyone knew that Eliem was no altruist; he did it for the sake of the problem. And he had taught her his fascination with problems-with the abstract problem of problems.

  Long before he was appointed to the Baina Ya bench, the people of Kidege addressed Eliem Nicole as “Judge.” And Tora Soam was Judge Nicole with a strange voice; a voice that was becoming less strange as the seconds passed.

  The high-ranking Dracs that had been on the other side of the table sat in her mind as any greying, overweight collection of human officials would. Zigh Caida, the First Deputy of the Chamber, even had a face fixed in her mind. She thought for a long time, and then remembered: it was the Vice-commander of Storm Mountain, General Dell’s, face. Kindly, old General Dell.

  Morio used to say that the General had adopted himself as my father. In a way, it had been true.

  She shook her head and moved to the edge of the sleeping platform. She felt as though she were in the center of an enormous puzzle; a game with no rules, no objectives, no purpose. Lita teasing its students with its “I win” game; caught in the web of an unknown logos. And her mind felt the need of a purpose; a need to know the rules.

  “Well, Nicole, you know at least one thing: these creatures are Dracs, not humans.” The knotting in her gut as she made that statement told her more: they were not friends; they were deadly enemies.

  If I could just see! Damn it, if I could just see!

  She touched the edge of that well of self-pity, and backed away from it. And, from the pages of the Talman, Namvaac spoke to her.

  And the student said to Namvaac, “Jetah, the darkness covers all the Universe. It is such an all-powerful evil, I feel so small and helpless within it. Next to this darkness, the black of death seems so bright.”