Barry Longyear - Enemy Papers

Benbo turned toward Nicole. "What now, Major?"

She turned to see the other prisoners looking back at her. Their faces were tired, confused.

"Until we understand the situation, you people stay put. Taiseido?"

Morio stepped forward. "Yes?"

She took his arm and steered him toward Benbo. When the three of them were away from the others, the sergeant began.

"You think it’s a trap, Major?"

"I don’t know. They already have us by the short and sweet if they want to pack in our meat. I can’t see what purpose is served by letting us loose. Morio?"

"Yes, Major?"

"Benbo and I are heading out to do a little recon. I want you to take charge and keep everyone together. Understand?"

"Yes. What about those other two choices?"

"We’re going to keep fighting, but if we can walk around freely out there, it’s going to make things a lot easier. Just keep everyone together until we know the score."

Sergeant Benbo tapped Taiseido on the shoulder. "And, Mo. If any of these jokers wants to join up with the Dracs, you know what to do."

The Lieutenant looked down as Benbo slipped a knife into his hand. "What am I supposed to do with this?"

"Tell anybody who wants to become a Drac that it’s going to require a little surgery first. And when you say it, mean it."

Morio slipped the knife inside his jacket and nodded. "You two be careful."

Nicole and Benbo turned and headed toward the open door. When they reached it, they stopped. To the right was a security fence, and high upon the fence’s catwalk was an armed Drac guard.

The fence separated the building from the military field. Was the guard posted there to guard the field; or was it there to fry anyone stepping through the door?

To the left was a graveled path leading to a paved road. The bank on the other side of the road was crowded with scrub brush and twisted trees. Nicole glanced at the guard again and poked Benbo in the ribs.

"Let’s go."

They stepped out of the door and began walking slowly toward the road. By the time they were abreast of the guard, it was facing them, leaning against the fence. Its yellow fingers toyed with a lever on its weapon.

"Eey, kiz ve Madah."

They stopped and the guard raised its weapon and pointed it at them. "Zoom! Zoom!" The guard laughed and lowered its weapon. "Yaa! Yaa!" It nodded its head toward the road. "Benga! Madah hasu, dutshaat! Madah hasu!"

Benbo smiled warmly at the guard. "Kiss my ass, you piss-colored, maphrofag."

Nicole tugged on the sergeant’s arm. "Move it or lose it, Benbo."

"Yaa. kizlode! Madah hasu! Yaa-"

"Denvedar!"

The guard whirled around and Benbo and Nicole looked through the fence. Standing there, glaring up at the guard, was a hefty-looking Drac soldier. The thin gold stripes slashed diagonally across its red sleeves marked it as a ninth officer-equivalent to a USEF staff sergeant.

The Drac noncom gave that guard a ragtime that must have been cloned from the first chew-out session the Universe’s first private ever received from the Universe’s very first sergeant. The talk was so rapid that Nicole could only follow it in parts-several mentions of hot tongs, hand-stoking nuclear reactors, broken limbs, extra duty extending to infinity-the usual.

Sergeant Benbo seemed to be enjoying the performance. And when the Drac noncom had finished, and the guard was again walking its post, Benbo waved at the Drac. "That’s telling him, sarge."

The Drac stared for a moment at Benbo, then spat out a single word. "Vemadah!" The Drac turned from the fence and marched away.

Benbo watched the soldier until it disappeared into the entrance of a small structure. Then he thrust his hands into his pockets and walked toward the road, his eyes glowering at the gravel crunching beneath his boots.

Vemadah.

The word is the name of those living in the Madah; but it also means "coward."

"Sergeant, what that Drac noncom said doesn’t bother you, does it?"

"Hell, no!" Benbo continued walking, his lips pursed as though there was more that he wanted to say. As they reached the road, he shook his head, glanced at Nicole, then turned to the right. "Let’s find out where toadface keeps the button that blows up this shitball."

After three hours of fast walking they had circuited the Drac military field. There had been frequent glances from the Dracs standing guard and those riding past them in silent, low-slung vehicles. The only comments came from the children; comments, rocks, and pieces of garbage. But no one stopped them.

After walking the field’s perimeter, they climbed a wooded hill to get some altitude. By the time they sat down to rest, they had both come to the same conclusion: the field at V’Butaan was little more than a way station staffed by less than two hundred Dracs.

On the parking ramp there were four assault landers, two of which looked as though they Were under repair. There were several small transportation flyers, and no atmospheric fighters.

Sergeant Benbo, seated on the grass with his arms wrapped around his knees, glared in the direction of the field. "Major, if we’re going to bust our buns on the barricades, this place would be a waste of time."

"And a waste of buns." Nicole stretched out on the dead leaves and looked through the trees at the blue sky. "The Drac Fleet must have a major base somewhere on the planet."

"This sure as hell isn’t it." Benbo pushed himself to his feet and walked toward the higher ground.

As the sound of Benbo’s feet moving through the underbrush faded, Nicole continued looking at the sky, watching the spade-shaped leaves of the trees moving in the gentle wind.

It disturbed her that about the last thing she wanted to spend thought on was running around Ditaar slinging bombs around military installations. She felt as though she could have been anywhere, stretched out in the woods, inhaling the freshness of warm spring breezes, the war far, far away. At that moment Catvishnu seemed like nothing more than a bad dream.

Nicole sat up and looked at the Drac landers on the distant parking ramp. There seemed to be something wrong with her sense of duty-or was it sense of revenge?

The civilians who died on Catvishnu were nothing but numbers: the soldiers who died-well, that was part of the contract one made by joining the Force. There had been none of the soldiers that had been really close to her. No one had been close to her since Mallik. And the big issues were nothing but words. Did she really care about protecting the USE’s mining operations upon Amadeen? No. Was she in the Force to avenge the Amadeen Front’s deaths at the hands of the Drac Mavedah? She shook her head. Not really. Both the Front and the Mavedah were little more than terrorists, each serving their respective bosses by attempting to out-horror the other. She closed her eyes. "What am I doing here?"

…She had been on Earth, in school, aimlessly taking up space… but before that had been Raina Ya, and Mallik.

Mallik: fisher, lover and liver of life. They were both nineteen. In the days they owned the world; in the nights they owned the Universe.

He would stand in the prow of his fishing skimmer, his dark brown eyes searching the blinding glare of the water for signs, and she would watch him. And he would call out to the pilot, "High a quarter to port! The greentails run!"

As the skimmer heeled over to the left, he would rush back to help with the scoops. And he would steal a glance at her…

…drowned. They said that the storm came up out of nowhere. Surprised everybody. His corpse was pale and puffy from the water where it hadn’t been gnawed on by the crab-worms…

…Both his family and hers offered to help with the baby once it came. But she left Baina Ya and traveled to Earth before the baby was born. She never saw it; never knew its sex or name. Even the idea of possessing this knowledge horrified her. She wanted no more risks; no more surprises; no more attachments.