Enemy Papers

by Barry B. Longyear

  “Why?”

  “If I remember right, it’s going to take us around half a year just to get there. Once there, I don’t have a clue who to see, where to go, or anything. On top of everything else, the atmosphere on Timan is not exactly kind to oxygen breathers. Environmental suits, perhaps protected shelters, food, water―we’re talking about a major expedition.” The frown grows deeper. “Which means major money.” He suddenly turns his head and fixes me with his gaze. “Did the Ovjetah give you a blank check to go with that manuscript?”

  “Blank check?”

  “Unlimited funds.”

  I shake my head. “No. My account has a few thousand credits. Enough to get me back to Draco.”

  “Talma!” the human snorts angrily as it faces the window. There is the gentle ting of a musical note followed by the greeting room door opening. Undev Orin stands in the door and bows. “My apologies. Willis Davidge, the investigator still waits for you to bring Yazi Ro.”

  The human turns from the window and smacks himself gently against the side of his head. “Dammit, that’s why I came up here. Orin, tell the investigator we’ll be right down.”

  Undev Orin bows and closes the door, leaving Davidge and I alone. The human laughs at himself and says, “I came up here to get you, but I got sidetracked by the view. I seem to be forgetting a lot of things lately.” He points toward the smoke, now almost at an end. “It’s been a lot of years since anyone tried to kill me. The last one was the Ovjetah’s nameparent.”

  I feel cornered. No one yet seems particularly concerned that I was smuggled off Amadeen, but an investigator might. If no one at all cares, there wouldn’t be a quarantine. “I cannot see this investigator.”

  “Why? You haven’t been here long enough to get in trouble.”

  “I was smuggled through the Amadeen quarantine―”

  “Don’t worry about it,” interrupts Davidge. “That’s not a crime on Friendship, and the investigator isn’t a cop—a police officer. This one’s been hired simply to establish what happened last night and who was responsible.”

  “Hired?”

  Davidge nods as he takes my arm and leads me toward the door. “We don’t have police officers acting for the government here.” He shrugs and holds out his hands. “No government.”

  EIGHTEEN

  There is a path, steep and icy, from the ledge at the level of the cave to the base far below. We are met at the top of the path. There are two investigators, a Drac and a human, both of whom are employed by Aakva Lua, which means Blue Light. They have with them a Drac operative dressed in a deep blue Aakva Lua uniform beneath its black hooded coat. A second uniformed operative, also a Drac, is at the bottom of the cliff with the corpse. With the investigator are Zammis and Estone Falna.

  The Drac investigator’s name is Mirili Sanda, which the human investigator, for some reason, insists on pronouncing santa. Sanda is quite short and plump for a Drac, its eyes so dark they are almost black, making its gaze quite fierce. Its hooded coat is bright blue, as is the flyer in which it and the human investigator arrived. We follow them down the path.

  To Zammis, Falna, and Davidge the path down the cliff is just another trail. I, however, can feel unseen forces drawing me to the edges of sheer drops. Only my shame at my fear of heights forces me along. At the bottom we have to climb over and around the slippery boulders to get to Hill’s body. Sanda struggles at the physical challenge where Davidge, Falna, and Zammis appear to have no difficulty. The human investigator is amazing.

  The human’s name is Kita Yamagata. Although small for a woman, she jumps from boulder to boulder with the same fearless bearing and disregard of heights with which she climbed down the treacherous path to the base of the cliff. The hood on her blue coat is back displaying her glossy black hair, which she keeps short. Her eyes, too, are very dark, giving her a strange kinship to Sanda. By the time we reach the location, Yamagata is already examining the corpse, her hands covered in special blue gloves.

  Between the warmer air and the action of the sea, there is almost no ice on the ocean’s rocky shore. The spray from the breakers washes everything, which is why there is very little visible blood on the corpse, Sanda explains as Falna leans in to examine the body more closely. What blood there is seems to repulse Sanda. It does not bother Yamagata or Falna. I have seen so much of it, I am surprised it bothers me.

  Michael Hill landed first on his legs, bounced and came to rest on his back, according to Yamagata.. Falna remarks that it would he surprised if there where any bones not broken. Hill’s clothes, boots, and hooded coat are white, with a few smudges of red. With the snow for a background last night, he would have been almost invisible. Against the green and black sea-washed boulders at the base of the cliff, he stands out like a target. Jeriba Zammis, its head uncovered in the wind, stares at the body as the investigators take their readings and fill their little containers. When Sanda and Yamagata determine that they have done all that they can do with the corpse in its present position, they have their operatives turn it over.

  The back of Michael Hill’s white camouflage coat is scorched. Yamagata makes a comment about being half a step ahead of the volcano. A search of the corpse’s pockets produces an expensive leather identification case with Hill’s credentials and permits from Earth IMPEX, Draco, and other governmental authorities. It contains, as well, a company travel pass, pictures of beings of several species, and over sixteen hundred credits in currency. There is the key to his rented flyer, a key to his room at Colony House, an exclusive hotel in First Colony. There is a smashed pocket computer, and Yamagata bags all of it to bring back to the Aakva Lua laboratory. There is nothing I see that connects Michael Hill to the Timans.

  Later, up at the mouth of the cave, I stand outside with the others as Kita Yamagata, wearing a protective suit and respirator, enters alone. Sanda explains that Yamagata has experience as an arson investigator, arson being mostly a human way of killing. Falna remarks that Yamagata seems to be a rather competent medical investigator, as well.

  While we wait, Sanda goes over the terms of the agreement once more with Jeriba Zammis. Aakva Lua is free to release information to any other investigative company or police authority that may wish to pursue the matter, even if such action is opposed to the legal interests of Jeriba Zammis or other members, employees, or agents of the Jeriba line or Jeriba estate. Aakva Lua may also seek and accept employment from parties other than Jeriba Zammis, using such information, and so on and so forth, la la la. Zammis agrees to it all.

  Sanda asks Davidge and me questions regarding Hill’s possible motives. I relate my experience with the IMPEX representative on the ship, and Davidge and I share with the investigator conjectures concerning old vengeance and recent insanity. Davidge does not share our thoughts about the talma and the possible Timan interference. I keep silent on this matter as well.

  While Sanda returns to the bottom of the cliff and supervises its operatives in loading the body into an Aakva Lua flyer, I notice once more Zammis’s troubled manner. It is looking at the entrance to the cave, the leather-and-stick door open.

  Jeriba Zammis notices me and says, “In doing business I have been to Draco, Earth, and many of the planets colonized by both powers. So many times I have seen populations living as though in the midst of a war zone. The inhabitants divide themselves into tribes, arm themselves, put bars on windows, and live in fear. The wealthy turn their estates into forts and their retainers into armies.” It motions toward the cave with its hand. “Thieves, killers, terrorists insane on religion or politics. Gangs of criminals prowling the streets. I believed that Planet Friendship was exempt.”

  “How can any place be exempt?” I ask.

  Zammis looks upon me as though I am mad. “We have no tribes here. The lesson of Friendship is that money, race, and belief are nothing next to fellowship. We are not awash in poverty, crime, or repression!”

  Davidge is looking out over the sea. He glances toward Zammis, and says, “
Sharks don’t kill because they’re poor, criminal, insane, or repressed, Zammis. Sharks kill because they’re sharks.”

  “Michael Hill?” demands Zammis. “Michael Hill was a shark? He was a fine, intelligent, imaginative man of business. I know his family. He has taken the repasts here at the estate. Michael Hill was no shark, Uncle.”

  Davidge looks at me and nods as a tiny smile pulls back the left corner of his mouth. I watch as he picks up a rock and hands it to Jeriba Zammis. “Is this a shark?” asks the human.

  Zammis takes the rock and studies it for a moment. Keeping the rock, Ty’s parent looks at Davidge, frowns, and asks, “Who?” I am confused, not knowing what a shark is nor the meaning of the rock.

  Zammis opens its mouth to ask again and Davidge cuts off its former student with a wave of his finger as Kita Yamagata lumbers into view, the helmet of her protective suit back, the respirator hanging from a strap around her neck. In her gloved hands are the remains of a metal case, its top and two sides melted away. She stops in front of us and holds out her treasure. “One thing we know for sure is that Brother Hill didn’t know drool about setting fires. At least, not with one of these things.”

  “What is that?” I ask.

  Yamagata looks at Davidge. He shrugs and shakes his head. “What we have here, folks,” says the woman, “is a mining tool called a thermal drill. It uses a special plastic explosive called Thermex. Under various brand names, Thermex is used by most large mining operations in the quadrant.” She wiggles a finger at a tangle of wires and molten metal next to a lump of black goo in the bottom of the case.

  “This case was filled with the stuff. It burns hot enough to turn rock to ashes with almost no smoke. Lots of steam, though, if there’s water in the drilling medium.” She pokes a wad of wires and melted circuit boards. “With this gadget you can program the size and shape of the burn. Miners use it for tunneling, removing obstructions, drilling holes―wherever they want to get rid of some rock.” Yamagata holds up a gloved hand and points at the black lump in the bottom of the case. “This stuff used to be an initiator. When it is triggered, it vaporizes, combines with an igniter, the combination achieving a high enough temperature to ignite the Thermex. If it doesn’t go in exactly that sequence, the Thermex won’t ignite. Instead it will melt or vaporize. It’s a safety thing. This initiator was never triggered.”

  Davidge moves a step closer and looks down into the box. “It looks like there was a fire to me.”

  She looks up at him and grins. “Oh, there was a fire, all right. The igniter was set off out of sequence. That was what caused the fire. Because it couldn’t combine with the trigger vapor, though, it couldn’t ignite the Thermex.” Yamagata turns and holds her hand toward the entrance to the cave.

  “If this thing had been set off in the proper sequence, Mr. Davidge, that cave would be one big hole in the ground. As it is, it’s just a smoked-out mess. The Thermex vapor condensed on the wood and smothered the fire started by the igniter. That’s the glossy black stuff that covers everything in there.” She turns back and looks at us one at a time.

  “Now, what I don’t understand is this: a man like Mr. Hill, running around the quadrant for Earth IMPEX, probably knows more about mining methods and equipment than just about anybody.” Her gaze rests on Jeriba Zammis.

  Zammis nods. “Of course. IMPEX has been using thermal drills since before the war. You can’t sell the customer unless you can show him how the gadget works. Michael Hill was well qualified to represent IMPEX’s interests, and he certainly knew how to use a thermal drill.”

  Davidge points at the partially melted case and says to Kita Yamagata, “I thought you said Hill didn’t know drool about setting off one of these.”

  The woman grins. “I’ll bet my next two paychecks that this drill isn’t one of the IMPEX models. IMPEX and JACHE,” she explains, “have licenses to produce the stuff from Nisak, who made it available to both outfits before the war. Each company produces its own range of models.”

  Nisak. I look at Davidge, but he is looking at the investigator. “Timan Nisak?” he asks.

  “That’s right. Timan Nisak invented Thermex and the thermal drill. In any event, it appears that Michael Hill wasn’t thoroughly familiar with this particular model, and ichi-bu hachi ken.” She sees our confused expressions and says, “One-tenth of an inch, forty-eight feet.”

  While Zammis and I remain confused, Davidge smiles slightly and says, “Small errors can result in big mistakes.”

  She smiles widely, obviously pleased that Davidge understood her enigmatic reference, and says to us all, “I’ll bet that this is either a JACHE drill or one from Timan Nisak.”

  Davidge keeps looking at the melted case in Yamagata’s hands and says, “Yazi Ro, what do you want to wager that this drill is from Dracon JACHE?”

  I slowly shake my head. “Not even air.”

  There is a whining sound coming from the edge of the cliff and soon we see the Aakva Lua flyer move out across the water, make a steep climbing turn to the right, and set course for First Colony, Michael Hill’s body in its cargo bay. The others begin walking the path to the house. I begin following but pause when I see Mirili Sanda struggling its way up the path to the ledge. Keeping against the wall, I go down a few steps and lend the overweight investigator a hand getting up the last few steps. At the top, Sanda wheezes its thanks and sits on an outcropping to catch its breath. “That Zammis is twice as old as I am and it runs up and down this trail like it was three. The company has an employees’ gym. I think I’ll drop in and see what I can do to get in better physical shape.”

  As Sanda rests, its gaze wanders along the edge of the ledge, then to the door, back to the ledge, and then to the rocks below. “Yazi Ro, if you were going to plant a bomb in this cave, could you forget this cliff outside the entrance, no matter how dark it was, no matter how big a panic was driving your feet?”

  I look down at the rocks and shake my head. “No, Mirili Sanda, I could not forget. I, though, pay particular attention to heights.”

  “Over a certain altitude, Yazi Ro, everyone does.”

  NINETEEN

  The slightly warmer temperatures of the early morning drop suddenly, foreshadowing a new storm. In the house, Davidge isolates himself with the subspace link and doesn’t emerge for the second or night repasts. After the night repast, in the main gathering salon, Jeriba Zammis tells us that the investigators will return to ask more questions. They have some lab results and they have located the flyer Michael Hill rented. They will be here in a few moments. As Zammis, Ty, Estone Falna, and I sit and speculate about what the investigators have found, Davidge at last emerges from Ty’s office, the expression on his face somewhere between confusion and fatigue. He drops into a chair, becoming part of our circle.

  “What is it, Uncle?” asks Falna.

  “The Ovjetah informs me,” he announces, “that if the talma leads to Planet Timan then the talma leads to Planet Timan.”

  “That took you from before the second repast?”

  “Basically. The rest was taken up with a little talk about relatives, and a lot of talk about why Shigan can’t talk about what I want it to talk about. If Timan has nothing to do with this damned talma, why can’t Shiggy just say so? It’s as stubborn as a damned mule.”

  Falna assumes a serious expression and says, “I can’t imagine where the Ovjetah would acquire a trait such as that.”

  “Such a human quality,” adds Ty. Zammis’s child grins as Davidge glares at both of them and raises his eyebrows.

  “There is a difference, my children, between conviction and stubbornness. The former is based on knowledge or sincere belief. The latter is rooted in stupidity brought on by the need to be regarded as right.”

  “My parent,” says Ty to Zammis, “it is a shame how stupid your parent is. I have always said so.”

  “True, true,” responds Zammis, shaking its head sadly and turning to Davidge. “What can one do, Uncle? Ever since Shigan too
k on its master’s robe and then earned the position of Ovjetah of the Talman Kovah, it has been impossible to convince my parent of its stupidity.”

  Falna laughs out loud at this. Davidge drums his fingers on the armrests of the chair for a moment, then says with half a smile, “You clowns ought to take your act on the road.”

  Our laughter is interrupted by Mizy Untav. The doorkeeper enters, bows, and announces the investigators from Aakva Lua. Mirili Sanda and Kita Yamagata enter. Sanda is wearing the same tan short robe, trousers, and boots from this morning. Yamagata is dressed in an all-white, high-collared jumpsuit with soft white boots laced up to just below her knees. A red flower is in her hair and her eyes almost glitter. I turn my head and look at Davidge sitting uncomfortably in his old snakeskin leathers scratching his beard. His gaze is fixed on the center of the floor.

  It is impossible for me to fathom these human hormonal reactions. Kita Yamagata, who regards Davidge as an overage murder suspect, primps herself and preens in front of him like a vacci bird before a prospective mate. Willis E. Davidge, dedicated to teaching The Talman and line to an endless succession of Drac children, isolated from human companionship and celibate for the past three decades, now a murder suspect, is squirming in his chair because he wishes he looks more presentable before the woman who might charge him with murder.

  Of course, I am no master on the subject of love. My own encounters were hurried, almost chance events between horrors, leaving me without love or loving. There is a barren loneliness eating at me, and between that and Davidge’s comical look, I would too become a clown. I envy him his discomfort as I take a furtive look at Estone Falna.

  Falna is watching Sanda with both eyes as the Drac investigator folds its arms across its chest. “Earth IMPEX and Michael Hill’s family both want to continue with the investigation, although they are doing so through investigative companies other than Aakva Lua. JACHE is also interested in continuing the investigation, but unlike IMPEX, it is using Aakva Lua.”