Barry Longyear - Enemy Papers

That night I bury myself in Falna’s arms. It whispers in my ear, "Why are you so frightened, Ro?"

I say nothing out loud. What does one who feels like a leaf blown about by the universe’s wind say to one who feels like a rock? Falna grew within the love, safety, and wisdom of Davidge’s cave. I grew within the hate, danger, and stupidity of the battlefield. All I say is, "Love me. No questions. Please, for tonight, love me."

Graduation from the Ri Mou Tavii. All of the nests, from low to high, gather through mind fusion to witness and participate in the competition. The Dakiz posits a threat and hears the candidates for graduation as each one applies the lessons to eliminate or divert the threat. The Dakiz chooses the first application he finds satisfactory and that student then must posit a threat of its own. The title of 'do Timan goes to ones who posit threats that have no satisfactory answer. The top honor of ni 'do Timan goes to the ones who posit threats no one besides them can resolve satisfactorily.

The problems are stated, the solutions are offered, and it pleases me not at all that I guess the correct solutions before the Dakiz. The threat I have to posit is the one to which I have no answer.

The latest successful student, Pria, posits a single individual as the threat. The setting is a closed environment containing only two beings: the threat and the one who is threatened. The environment is such that no third being or force can be either brought in or can intrude. I signal my willingness to participate and the Dakiz selects me.

"Know the threat," I begin. "With this knowledge divide the mind of the threat. Cast its interests against its loyalties, its loyalties against its loves, its morality against its reality."

"Example," calls the Dakiz.

I look at my fellow students and point at the one who posited the problem: "Pria. You shall be the threat."

Pria throws wide its fleshy arms, takes a step toward me, and says, "I am going to crush you to death!" He growls rather effectively.

In response I say, "If you take another step toward me, Pria, I will break every bone in your body."

"Ehh?" Pria looks to the Dakiz and the Dakiz looks at me.

"Violence?" asks the Dakiz.

"No. The threat of violence."

"This is not a solution."

I point a finger at Pria’s lower extremities. "Notice the threat’s feet, Dakiz. They do not move. I have placed Pria’s loyalty to his problem against his interest not to have broken bones. I have placed Pria’s morality, that no Timan should ever respond with violence, against its reality: I am not a Timan and if he takes another step I will break every bone in his body. Pria believes me. The threat is thereby neutralized and I have not resorted to violence."

The Dakiz asks the students for competing responses, and the scant two who apply fail in their applications. One favors begging and the other tries buying off the threat with promises it intends not to keep. The Dakiz calls neither for examples. No longer looking entertained, the Dakiz nods toward me. "State your problem, Yazi Ro."

In our communal mind I face all of the classes. "The threat is an ongoing war in a closed system between two species, neither of which has the ability to forget or forgive an injury. Each side’s goal is the elimination of the other side. The end of the threat requires peace."

"Who are the ones who are threatened?" asks a student.

"All of those on the planet."

"What is the original cause of the conflict?" asks another student.

"Irrelevant," I answer. "The original cause is outweighed by the continuing cause."

"What is the continuing cause of the war?" asks the same student,

"The war," I answer.

The student named Ojuahn asks, "Are both species warlike to the degree that everyone on both sides are warriors!"

"No. In fact, at any one time I would guess that only a fifth to a quarter of each species on the planet belongs to one of the combatant groups. Perhaps a majority of those of each species would like to have peace."

"A peace less drastic than the elimination of the opposing species?" presses Ojuahn.

"Any kind of peace," I answer.

"A truce, then. Resolve what can be resolved, and have peace."

"Every time there is a truce," I begin, "uncontrollable factions and individuals from each side attack and perform atrocities that ignite again the larger war. Truces that once lasted weeks and months are now reduced to hours or a day. Neither side can police its uncontrollable factions for neither political leadership can survive the prosecution of its own kind for the crime of killing those of the other side."

There are more questions, some explanations, no answers that manage to survive testing. I did not think there would be. Since I posit the lone problem without sufficient answer, I graduate at the top of my class. The Dakiz says, "Take your place with honor, Yazi Ro 'do Timan."

Perhaps if the Timans had been able to consider such problems for centuries their answers would have been more useful. However, on Timan solutions involve starting wars, arranging it so others start wars, or shunning a war and dumping it in someone else’s lap. Not since the time of Bahtuo, King Jax, and Lord Nuba had the Timans actually carried arms and fought in a war, and never had the end of a war itself been considered the removal of a threat.

I stay in bed the next day. That evening I shun all company, walk the gardens until my legs ache, then go back to my quarters. Falna is waiting for me there, a special repast illuminated by candles is prepared. "All my best wishes and sincerest congratulations, Yazi Ro 'do Timan." It holds a hand out toward the table. "For your celebration."

"What kind of mind does it take to celebrate a failure?"

Falna holds its head back as though I had slapped it. "A failure? You received a very high honor from the Dakiz, Ro. If you want, you can continue at the Ri Mon Tavii with a high nest."

"Falna, I have one problem that I need to solve. The fact that neither I nor anyone else can solve it was what earned me my so-called honor." I allow myself a bitter laugh. "Besides, it was not original work."

"Come, Ro," Falna begs, its hand held out toward the table. I notice that it is wearing a special, filmy black gown. Its body moves seductively beneath the fabric.

"No. I realize you have gone to some special trouble for tonight, Falna, but no. Tonight I want to be by myself."

"Please―"

"Leave me!" I shout. I turn my back, go into the bed chamber, and close the door. There I sit in the dark and remind myself why the children of the battlefield do without love and hope. To have love one must have hope, and to have hope one must be a fool. Quietly I hear Falna close the door as it leaves my quarters.

How many ways are there to be a fool? I am not certain, but I think I must have explored all of them by now. Of course, every time I think that, I am usually on the brink of discovering new worlds of foolishness.

A regular alarm corresponding with a flashing blue light comes from the com link next to the bed. I stand it as long as possible, then cross the room and pick up the link. "What?"

"Many sorrows for disturbing you," says the Timan operator, "but there is an urgent communication for you coming in on the Keu Vac Ount subspace link from Draco."

I stand there, the last brick in the burial vault in my hand. "I will be there in a moment."

Aakva Muta, assistant to the Ovjetah, comes on screen. "Jeriba Shigan apologizes for not conveying this information to you itself, but at present the Ovjetah is on board its ship heading for Friendship to be with Estone Nev."

"I understand," I answer, a sinking feeling in my middle. If I am wrong I will have troubled a great many persons for nothing. But if I am wrong, Jeriba Shigan would not be going to Friendship to support its nameparent’s sibling.