Barry Longyear - Enemy Papers

Receiving little but dumbfounded stares in return, the clerk continued. "For that reason, Jeriba Zammis is dangerously insane. Long before the ship that brought it to Draco had landed, Jeriba Zammis had committed several major assaults, according to witnesses, and eventually reached a point where it couldn’t even speak a coherent sentence."

Estone Nev leaned over the clerk. "Let me look at the records, insect." The clerk passed the dot file and a reader to Nev, and, after studying them, Estone Nev looked up at Toccvo Leint and said, "It is obvious that Jeriba Zammis has been, on several occasions, beaten almost to death."

The clerk began waving its arms in embarrassment. "According to the case investigators, Jeriba Zammis’s condition was due to harm it inflicted upon itself, and some injuries incidental to those it attacked defending themselves." As the records clerk said it, it didn’t look as though it believed a word.

I moved forward until I, too, towered over the clerk. "I have a question." The clerk surveyed the three of us and nodded at me.

"I will be pleased to answer it, if I can."

"When Zammis fell into your hands, why wasn’t the Jeriba line notified? Why was it kept a secret?"

The clerk looked away from me as though its answer was beyond my ability to comprehend. Instead, Toccvo Leint appealed to Gothig with its response. "It was kept from you, Jeriba Gothig, to protect you and your line from the terrible scandal. Certainly you understand."

Jerry’s parent looked at the clerk for a bone-chilling moment, and then said in an icy voice, "I do not know where the talma of justice will wind, Toccvo Leint, but depend on the wealth of my line keeping all paths open. For now, have us taken to see Jeriba Zammis."

We entered the outdoor patient pens, feeling sick. All around us, Dracs stared with vacant eyes, or screamed, or foamed at the mouth, or were curled up in a corner somewhere trembling at unseeable terrors. The rather beefy guard took the three of us to a pen on the edge of the compound where the warden-director of the Sa Ashzhab Kovah met us. The warden frowned at me and shook its head at Gothig. "Turn back now, while it is still possible, Jeriba Gothig. Beyond this gate lies nothing but pain and sorrow."

Gothig grabbed the director by the front of its wraps. "Hear me, kizlode : If Jeriba Zammis is within these fences, bring my grandchild; else, I shall bring the might of the Jeriba line down upon your pointed head!"

The director lifted its head, twitched its lips, then nodded. "Very well. Very well, you pompous Kazzmidth! We tried—to protect the Jeriba reputation. We tried! But now you shall see." The director nodded and pursed its lips. "Yes, now you shall see." The director nodded at a guard, and the over-muscled creature opened the gate to the pen and stood aside to allow us to enter.

Among trees and grass, Jeriba Zammis sat upon a stone bench, staring at the ground. Its eyes never blinked, its hands never moved. Gothig frowned at me, but I could spare nothing for Shigan’s parent. I walked to Zammis. "Zammis, do you know me?"

The Drac retrieved its thoughts from a million warrens and raised its yellow eyes to me. I saw no sign of recognition. "Who are you?"

I squatted down, placed my hands on its arms and shook them. "Dammit, Zammis, don’t you know me? I’m your uncle. Remember that? Uncle Davidge?"

The Drac weaved on the bench, then shook its head. It lifted an arm and waved to an orderly. "I want to go to my room. Please, let me go to my room."

I stood and grabbed Zammis by the front of its hospital gown. "Zammis, it’s me!"

The yellow eyes, dull and lifeless, stared back at me. The orderly placed a yellow hand upon my shoulder. "Let it go, Irkmaan."

"Zammis!" I turned to Nev and Gothig. "Say something!"

The Drac orderly pulled a sap from its pocket, then slapped it suggestively against the palm of its hand. "Let it go, Irkmaan."

Gothig stepped forward. "Explain this!"

I looked at Zammis but addressed the guard. "What have you bastards done to Zammis? A little shock? A little drug? Rot out its mind?"

The orderly sneered at me, then shook his head. "You, Irkmaan, do not understand. This one would not be happy as an Irkmaan vul— a human lover. We are making it possible for this one to function in Drac society. You think this is wrong?"

I looked at Zammis and shook my head. I remembered too well my treatment at the hands of my fellow humans. "Wrong? No. I just don’t know."

The orderly turned to Gothig. "Please understand, Jeriba Gothig. We could not subject the Jeriba line to this disgrace. Your grandchild is almost well and will soon enter a reeducation program. In no more than two years, you will have a grandchild worthy of carrying on the Jeriba line. Is this wrong?"

Gothig only shook its head. I squatted down in front of Zammis and looked up into its yellow eyes. I reached up and took its right hand in both of mine. "Zammis?"

Zammis looked down, moved its left hand over, and picked up my left hand and spread the fingers. One at a time Zammis pointed at the fingers of my hand, then it looked into my eyes, then examined the hand again. "Yes…"

Zammis pointed again. "One, two, three, four, five!" Zammis looked into my eyes. "Four, five!"

I nodded. "Yes. Yes."

Zammis pulled my hand to its cheek and held it close. "Uncle… Uncle. I told you I’d never forget you."

We brought Zammis back to the estate. Then came a revealing challenge: trying to find a mental health jetah who didn’t think Gothig and Nev were crazy for tolerating me. It took three days, but one was found. It prescribed a regimen of withdrawal from the drugs they had Zammis on at the Sa Ashzhab Kovah. It would be two days before the jetah would arrive, and I spent the entire time with Zammis in its apartment, sitting next to it on its sleeping pallet. Zammis stayed quiet, trembling, crying silent tears, and holding onto my arm with both hands. Physically Zammis was a fullgrown adult, but what I saw before me was a sick, terrified child.

I looked for monsters, people, cultures to blame, someone I could kill and make everything all right. There was nothing except my memories of Zammis’s parent and myself trying to kill each other on that cold, wet sandbar.

"Nu gejh, Irkmaan!"

You die, Earthman.

"Kiz da yuomeen, Shizumaat!"

Yeah, and Shizumaat eats it.

How did I get from there to here? I thought of the hellish winds and deadly winters on Fyrine IV and realized what brought Jerry and me together, and then left Zammis to make my life whole. It wasn’t that we were all driven together by the unforgiving planet. It was that Fyrine IV was clean. There wasn’t anyone else there. I wondered how the galaxy could be given a mental enema to make it half as clean. A problem for someone smarter than me.

I looked down at Jerry’s child and said, "Zammis. Zammis?" I placed my free hand against its cheek. "Zammis?"

"Uncle, don’t leave me," it whispered.

"I’m not going anywhere. Zammis, when were you the most happy?"

"Happy?"

I nodded. "Yes. When the nightmares begin crowding you, where do you go to hide? In your mind, where do you go to be safe?"

Zammis looked away from my face and its gaze moved over the cut stone walls of the apartment. I could see it went to its safe place and then smiled at the same time fresh tears came to its eyes. "The cave, Uncle. I hide in the cave."

I patted its cheek and nodded. "Me, too. How would you like to go back?"

"Go back?"

"To the cave, to Fyrine IV. How would you like to go back?"

Zammis sat up and smiled hopefully for a moment, then frowned at me. "Uncle, you always said you hated it there."