Barry Longyear - Enemy Papers

Davidge nods. "So he learns you’re coming here."

"He might be someone with a hatred. Perhaps an ancestor or loved one might have died on Amadeen,"

"That explains why he might want to kill you. Why me or Haesni?"

I look to see if he is joking. "To such a person, Davidge, a Drac is a Drac," I nod toward the human. "And a Dragger suck is a Dragger suck."

The human’s eyes grow wide and he laughs. "Ro, Dragger suck is old-fashioned, obsolete. According to Falna, the modern term is symp."

"Symp?"

"Short for sympathizer, I think. Maybe it’s short for simpleton." He shakes his head and turns back to the window. "It just doesn’t wash, Ro. Zammis has known Hill for years; worked with him, introduced him to others. Michael Hill has been working with Dracs for an awfully long time. Is it possible that you’re the first Drac Amadeen veteran he’s ever run across?"

I think of Aureah Vak, pilot of the Tora Soam . As well there is Koboc, the Tsien Denvedah veteran who lives with Matope. There are millions of Dracs who fought on Amadeen, old but still alive. "No, Davidge, it is not likely that I am Michael Hill’s first."

I reach out my hand and place it on the human’s shoulder as a theme from the Koda Nusinda teases the back of my head. "Davidge, the Ovjetah considers you and me to be pieces to a very important puzzle. Perhaps the puzzle cannot be solved if either of us is removed."

The human’s face wrinkles in confusion. "What does IMPEX have to gain in keeping the war going? Do you have any idea of the investment―" As Davidge curs himself off, his confusion fades. "The Koda Nusinda. The Eyes of Joanne Nicole."

"Yes. The Timans. Do you think the Timan species is still attempting to manipulate events?"

"If it’s true, they’re taking the possibility for peace on Amadeen whole lot more seriously than we do."

I rub my eyes and look at the smoke from the cave hanging in the air as the winds shift. "I thought Timan tampering in USE-Dracon relations ended with the death of the war’s secret architect, Hissied 'do Timan."

"So did the author of the Koda Nusinda. I don’t know why it would, though. If I read that manuscript right, manipulating other species toward self destruction wasn’t just Hissied 'do Timan’s hobby. It’s a survival mechanism―instinct with the Timans―the entire species." The human scratches his beard.

"What is it?" I ask.

"Yazi Ro, maybe the key to stopping the war on Amadeen is in somebody’s ammonia-soaked hand on Planet Timan." His eyebrows rise. "You don’t suppose that’s where the Ovjetah’s talma is supposed to go?"

"As I understand this most recent book of The Talman , Davidge, if the Timans are involved, they are operating their own talma. I do not know which talma we would be serving by going to Timan. Perhaps the Timan path encloses the Ovjetah’s."

Davidge folds his arms and frowns at the thinning smoke. "I need to get on the link and talk to Shiggy about this. If we go to Timan and it’s a wrong turn, it’ll be a helluva big one."

"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."

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.