“I have seen Matope every day that I have attended the Kovah, as student, master, Jetah, and Ovjetah for over twenty-five years. Without him and those who used to be with him keeping the problem of Amadeen a festering sore in my side, I do not know how open I would have been to considering the reluctant mission of a rude illegal visitor from Amadeen, and the work of the traitor who sent the visitor to me. Matope has helped keep the problem of Amadeen present in my mind.”
Before I get in the car that will take me and my package to a planet called Friendship, I stop by the park and tell Matope about the possible path to peace, my mission, and what the Ovjetah told me. The human’s eyes grow moist, but he does not leave. “Show me peace, Yazi Ro, and I’ll go home.” I shake hands with him and get into the car.
ELEVEN
The ship is the Venture, a new commercial freighter owned by JACHE. An English name on a Drac ship. Although designed to carry freight, there are several passengers, three humans and eleven Dracs. I do not have to work my way on the ship to Fyrine IV. Instead I have an individual compartment lined with endless luxuries and little to do. There is an information terminal in the ship’s passenger lounge, and I code for Fyrine IV.
The view from space at the planet’s closest point in its orbit around Fyrine shows a planet shrouded in an almost permanent cloud cover. With the cloud cover removed, I see ice caps, and in between, land masses separated by gray oceans. The closer aerial view of the planet shows that there is vegetation, brownish-green forests, vast plains covered with reddish-blue plants, everything constantly whipped by the planet’s ceaseless winds.
At the planet’s most distant point from the sun, the entire world is covered in ice and snow. I ask and the Planet Friendship is in the midst of its winter.
I had seen snow before, in the northern Dorado when the Mavedah attempted to invade the continent from an unexpected direction. We lost many when the force was trapped by an unexpected storm. Fyrine IV’s winter covers the planet and lasts throughout most of its year, which is almost two standard years long.
Both JACHE and Earth IMPEX attempted to seed the planet and make it productive, but the effort was abandoned both times because of the expense and because of the war. Despite its hostile environment, after the war it was settled by both Dracs and humans. The article ends with population, government, and economic notes that I skim through. A little under three million in population, every species I ever heard of and several I do not know exist live there. There is no coercive governmental body; such things as protection, disputes, criminal reparations, and insurance are handled by private commercial and voluntary organizations. For more information I am directed, among other places, to the article on Willis E. Davidge. The article on the Ovjetah’s Uncle Willy only states that he is a former USEF fighter pilot, he wrote the first English translation of The Talman, and that he currently resides on Friendship.
In the passenger lounge is a wide observation port through which the ship’s passage between the stars can be seen, their crisp brightness dulled slightly from the drive distortion. Few passengers seem to use the facility, and I kill the main illumination in the lounge and stand before the port, my reflection dim and ghostly red from the safety guide beacons mounted near the deck. Beyond the red ghost is the universe. As the parade of stars marches steadily by, deeply hidden thoughts steal into my awareness.
Were the woman and her Drac baby placed in my way to move me onto a particular path headed toward a certain goal? Am I free to change my direction, or does the path anticipate my question and my illusion of freedom? Was my meeting with this Davidge forged along with the creation of the universe? On its face it seems improbable. But I am far past the face of things. My guts tell me that something out there has already made my choices for me.
An image of Pina climbs in front of my eyes and is soon joined by Min and the Front killer with the flute outside Douglasville.
My parent.
As Yazi Avo’s image fills my sight, it blurs from my tears. A war between grief and rage fills my feelings and I find myself sobbing out loud. The compartment suddenly becomes very bright. I turn and see a human with his hand on the light panel. The human is smooth-headed, very pale, and wearing an expensive suit. “I apologize,” he says in excellent Drac. “My name is Michael Hill. I heard what sounded like crying.”
I turn away, dry my face with my palms, and say “I am Yazi Ro. Memories play with me. Nothing more.”
A long silence, then the human says, “If you’ve never been in space before, Ro, staring at the stars from a dark compartment can be quite disturbing. It has a tendency to call out the shadows you least want to see. Have you been out before?”
“Once.” I glance at the human and feel myself smiling. “I had no access to an observation port, though.”
The human walks across the deck until he is next to me, both of us looking through the port. In the bright lights of the lounge our reflections mute the stars. “I find a star field humbling,” says Hill. “What are the passions of an individual, a nation, or a single world against all of that? I represent the largest, most powerful industrial power in the quadrant.”
“Earth IMPEX,” I interrupt.
Michael Hill nods. “IMPEX has employed entire populations and transformed worlds across the galaxy. Billions of beings owe their fortunes and even their existence to IMPEX, yet I often wonder if there is anything that can be done by an individual, a corporation, or even an entire species, that would be noticeable next to that.” Michael Hill nods toward the stars, faces me, and grins. “If you want to hear God laugh, make a plan.” He nods at me, turns, and leaves the lounge.
After eating with the other passengers, I sit in my compartment thinking about the universe, war, and stopping a war. Does anything I, the Ovjetah, or this Willis E. Davidge do make any difference in a universe where countless stars are born and die every moment? Yet there is the ghost of that man I killed at Butaan Ji, the father of that dead little girl. He wasn’t awed by the infinite reaches of space. The universe was already done for him. The entire cosmos would have been saved had only one life been spared, yet the life was gone and the universe was dead.
From my couch my gaze finds the locker in which I placed Jeriba Shigan’s package to its teacher on Friendship. A piece to a puzzle, the solution to which might keep the universe alive for some parent. Perhaps for a child.
I open the package to the human. It is a manuscript made of paper hastily bound with flash film. Its title is the Koda Nusinda, The Eyes of Joanne Nicole. I start to read and I find myself pulled into an alien mind. It is the story of a human soldier, her command shattered by a superior enemy, taken prisoner, and made vemadah. Blinded in a raid where she saves some Drac children, her darkness is manipulated by Tora Soam until she sees neither as human or Drac but can see how the United States of Earth and the Dracon Chamber are rulebound into the war.
I see it before me, The Timans have an instinct which is to manipulate more powerful species into destroying themselves. They led the humans and the Dracs to Amadeen where a war was started that would be impossible to end short of the elimination of one race or the other. Yet this human soldier found how to step outside the rules and end the war by detaching the combatants from the problem of Amadeen, and from the influence of the Timans.
The principle is to determine the rules governing a situation and then devise new rules, a talma, that encompass and nullify the old set of rules. I wonder how to step outside the horror of Amadeen’s rules and encompass them with a set that would bring peace. Joanne Nicole, with her special sight, could not see a way to peace on Amadeen. What can this Davidge find?
Too much of it, though, is burdened by my own sight. Joanne Nicole abandoned her child, yet it was this child who wrote the Nusinda and brought it before the Jetai Diea as the first Ovjetah of Earth’s infant Talman Kovah. Joanne Nicole was a very lonely woman, and I feel as alone. Is it the fate of all soldiers, I wonder, to be lonely?
The warbling
sound that signals the ship converting to normal speed tears me from my reflections. The signal halts and a voice informs us that the ship’s destination is now within visible range. I go to the passenger lounge and look through the observation port at the tiny white disk of the Planet Friendship, my head mired in thoughts of freedom, war, and significance.
TWELVE
As the Venture descends through the atmosphere toward the port of First Colony, I can feel the powerful winter winds buffeting the hull being met by the slightly delayed reactions of the steering jets. Eventually the buffeting ceases and the roar of the landing jets grows for a moment, then the ship is motionless and silent. We are down.
I see Michael Hill as we disembark. He is talking to another human and three Dracs on the apron of the underground landing bay. He sees me, nods, and returns to his conversation. I shoulder my bag and look at the underground port.
There are three other ships in the brightly illuminated enclosure and spaces for eight others, each space separated by transparent walls. I look around and everything is expensive, new, clean. The ground crew servicing the Venture wears crisp orange uniforms. Another crew wearing green moves lifts into place to unload the ship’s cargo containers. I see several species on both crews.
The passengers not pausing to talk move toward an open blast door. Next to the door is a Drac in a pale blue suit and robe combination. When I reach the hatch, the tall Drac smiles, bows, and says to me, “Yazi Ro?”
I stop. “I am Yazi Ro.”
The smile grows wider. “I am Undev Orin, retainer to the Jeriba estate. Through this door into the terminal area Jeriba Zammis, child of Shigan, awaits you. I will notify Zammis that you have arrived and guide you there.”
I nod my thanks. “Where are the customs officials?”
“We have no customs prohibitions or duties on Friendship, hence,” Orin holds out its hands apologetically, “no officials.”
The terminal waiting area is a mix of strange rhythmic music and banks of flowers and potted trees. The open area is filled with comfortable couches, each couch complete with computer, entertainment, communication, and refreshment facilities. Orin leads me toward a private enclosure located behind opaque dividers near the center of the waiting area. Inside the enclosure Jeriba Zammis stands with its back toward us watching a transparent column of opaque red plastic blobs flow and change shapes as they ascend the column through a translucent yellow medium. Zammis is tall and clad in a strange combination of clothes: trousers and soft leather boots after the fashion of the humans, yet an abbreviated Jetah robe for an upper garment.
Undev Orin bows and says, “Apologies for interrupting your meditation, Jetah, but Yazi Ro is here.”
“Meditation?” Jeriba Shigan’s firstborn turns, its brow touched by a momentary confusion. The brow ascends as the confusion terminates. “You mean this,” Zammis says as it gestures toward the column of blobs. “Hypnotism, perhaps, Orin, but not meditation. It’s something new from Earth added by the port administration. I may acquire one for the estate. Look into it.”
“At the first opportunity,” responds Orin as it holds out its hand toward me.
Jeriba Zammis’s gaze snaps from Undev Orin to my face as it issues an almost imperceptible bow. In return, I do not bow at all, a gesture Zammis ignores as though it expected the attitude. Although partially hidden by its strange attire, I can see that Zammis is a physically powerful individual. “My parent has charged me with bringing you to see Willis Davidge, The Ovjetah neglected to inform me as to the nature of your visit, but it did mention the planet from which you originate.”
Taking a step toward me, Zammis’s face assumes a threatening expression, its voice hushed and charged with menace. “Please understand that everyone on Friendship considers Willis Davidge to be possibly the most valuable being in the universe. If anything should happen to him―anything―we would not understand.”
I reach out my hand and poke Jeriba Zammis in the chest, causing it to stagger back a step. “I have carried death in every pocket since I was born, Jeriba Zammis. Threats do not frighten me. Still, should you make another such threat, my response will not be quite so measured.”
Undev Orin, attempting to insert itself between us, says hastily, “Yazi Ro, I believe the Jetah simply wanted to remind you that you are not on Amadeen now.”
My heart forces the words from my mouth: “I am always on Amadeen,”
I turn and face the column of red blobs, ease my breathing, and think what I would do if circumstances required me to take a loved one and throw it into company with an insane killer. Slowly I take my bag from my shoulder, remove the copy of the Koda Nusinda, and face the Jetah. “My mission, as you call it, is to deliver this copy to your Uncle Willy. The next move will be his.”
Jeriba Zammis studies me for a moment, looks at the manuscript, then raises its gaze and asks, “Did my parent warn you about calling Davidge Uncle Willy?”
“Yes.”
Zammis looks at a time readout above a blank entertainment screen in the corner of the area opposite the column of blobs. “We were supposed to pick up a relative as well, but Falna was not on the ship from Earth.”
“Estone Falna,” adds Orin with obvious pride, “Graduated Jetah from the Talman Kovah, ‘do Timan from the Ri Mou Tavii on Timan, magna cum laude from the University of Nations College of Medicine, deputy of the Jetai Diea. It will someday follow Jeriba Shigan as Ovjetah.”
“Possibly,” says Zammis as it faced me. “Orin’s enthusiasm often obscures its view of reality. If Falna wanted to become Ovjetah, it should have remained at the Talman Kovah. Instead it hops from planet to planet collecting degrees. As Orin mentioned, among Falna’s many accomplishments is graduating from the University of Nations College of Medicine. I suppose we’ll have to address Falna as ‘doctor’ now.” Jeriba Zammis frowns and glances toward the passenger concourse. “I can’t understand why it wasn’t on the ship from Earth.”
“It didn’t say it was going to be on that ship, Jetah. There is another ship today from Draco,” offered Orin. “Perhaps it will be on that.”
“Falna is coming from Earth,” replied Zammis. “Why would it be on a ship from Draco?”
“The Talman Kovah is there. The Jetai Diea. Its mentor, Jeriba Shigan,” pointed out the retainer. “In any event, Falna did say it wasn’t certain when it would arrive and it would make its own way out to the estate.”
“Nonsense,” states Zammis. “If we have to meet every ship from everywhere for eternity, there will be a familiar face here to greet Estone Falna.” Zammis nods toward my garments. “Are those the warmest clothes you have.”
I frown at the question. “Yes.”
“Very well.” Zammis turns to Orin and says in English, “Let’s get it in the air, Flash. Do we have enough time to hit Binswanger’s, bring Yazi Ro to the estate, and still have Alri Gan make it back to the port to meet the ship from Draco? Should we send another car?”
“I’m sure we have enough time, jetah.”
Zammis nods. “Excellent. Tell Gan to make for Binswanger’s.” Turning to me, it says, “You need something warmer.”
“I am warm enough.”
Orin and Zammis both laugh, and after a pause, Orin glances at Zammis. “Binswanger’s?”
Zammis nods. “Binswanger’s.”
Orin bows and leads us out of the waiting area to a set of thermal doors made of glass. Outside the doors is a brilliantly illuminated tunnel, different kinds of vehicles passing by the doors. Innocent-looking clouds of ice dust hang in the air as they move by the glass. A sleek, gleaming red vehicle is parked in the tunnel, waiting, and inside the doors another retainer, Alri Gan, waits. Gan wears a hooded coat with two additional coats draped over its arm. Orin takes a coat, helps Zammis on with it, then puts on its own coat. They are thick, covered in some kind of leather with hoods and gloves attached. I think that I would suffocate from the heat in one of those, then Gan signals the doors to open.
B
efore I take a step, I am stunned by the cold. My breath steams and I feel the surface of my exposed skin burning. Each breath inhaled is a fiery draft from hell. The areas of my body that are covered feel as though they are being pierced with knives of ice. I can feel my skin and muscles contracting in the cold.
Gan hurries us into the vehicle, and I sit in the warmth, my eyes tightly shut, allowing the soft upholstery to cuddle me as I hug myself. I hear the doors close and the whine of the engine, then feel a gentle pressure as the vehicle accelerates and grows even warmer. I risk opening my eyes and see that Gan and Orin are seated in front and I am in the rear with Zammis seated on my right. I look through the window next to me and we are out of the tunnel flying far above the frozen, wind-punished cityscape of First Colony. There are buildings the tops of which poke through the otherwise unbroken blanket of snow and ice. A shudder rattles my body and I turn to see Jeriba Zammis examining me.
“Binswanger’s ?” it asks.
I nod in defeat. “Binswanger’s,” I answer.
Alri Gan lands the craft in a tunnel at the base of a huge structure that looks like an enormous glittering ball sitting on the ice. In one last blast of cold, we leave the craft and enter the place where we are met by the owner, a thin, balding human named Abraham J. Binswanger, who escorts us and waits upon us personally.
Binswanger’s is a many-leveled wonderland of riches, each level connected to the others through a complicated web of moving walks and sliding stairs. To me it seems like the land of the Irrvedan must have seemed to Uhe and the starving ancient Mavedah, like the Promised Land must seem to the humans. Coats, hats, boots, shirts, sleeping clothes, undergarments, child clothes, baby clothes all of it new. Scents, jewels, furniture, pictures, machines for transportation, entertainment, work and business, tools, farming implements and supplies, flowers, equipment and uniforms for sports, and towers and towers of books, none of them ever having been opened.
Enemy Papers Page 46