Barry Longyear - Enemy Papers

Time.

The perception of time ceased.

Darkness surrounded her.

The ointment on her face, neck, and hands removed sensation from them. She could feel her body, but it was as though her head were floating free of it. It was an almost pleasant feeling. She was freed from the sensory overkill of everything that had gone before. Even more, she was freed from the everyday distractions, allowing the senses she could use to sharpen, making commonplace things new and exciting.

There would be a buzz-an insect? A piece of electrical equipment? It was not important. The sound itself became a thing of substance, the peaks and valleys of the undulating waves surfaces upon which she could glide.

…The whine of compressors; the staleness of reprocessed air; dim talk:

"This is cargo I never thought would soil my ship."

Paper crackling.

"Read this. kiz for brains. and take good care of her."

An angry snort. a short silence, more paper crackling.

"Magasienna! This? This is the ward of the-"

"As I said. take good care of her…"

…She stopped her swim through blackness long enough to remember that sergeant who had explained her USEF insurance and liability retirement schedule.

So much for an arm, so much for a leg, so much for an eye…

…Her first assignment after officer’s school, shuffling electrons, keeping an eye on Drac commercial traffic. Intelligence had gotten the word from somewhere. They were preparing even then for the war; putting together the language, codes, slang, procedures, organization, power…

Dim voices in the distance… the hum of a strong electrical field…

…Analysis of the situation on Amadeen.

The humans requesting USEF units to protect them against Drac terrorists. Intercepting a message to the Dracon Fleet from the Amadeen Mavedah requesting Fleet protection against the terrorists of the Amadeen Front…

…The training officer in alien systems.

"To anticipate the moves of an opponent, you must be familiar with the rules that govern his thoughts, goals, and actions. What seems logical to you probably won’t seem logical to some frog-faced thing that never heard of Aristotle or Boole. But what seems logical to it probably won’t seem logical to you…

"…To be logical is to be consistent with a set of rules. And every race that exists in this galaxy has evolved its own set of rules; its own logic; its own unique perception of the universe and its relationship to that universe…

"…The ultimate nature of the universe is relationships, rules; what we call the laws of nature are rules common to most races. Everything else, the whole of intelligent life, is governed by rules of invention.

"Justice on the planet Aluram is a different thing than it is among humans. The criminals on Aluram, as well as the criminal’s parents, siblings, and children suffer the same punishment. If the punishment is death, all die. This is not justice through human eyes. But if you could see through the eyes of an Aluramin, it would be justice. The Aluramin decided good and bad for their race, then invented social sanctions against the bad. And whether bad behavior is a matter of environment or heredity, it makes good sense to remove those who do bad from the race’s gene pool. They have very little of what they call crime on Aluram.

"Very logical…"

Another day? Another week? Another year? The voices would fade in and out… the humming…

"…Mitzak?"

"I am here."

"Why? Why are you here?"

"It should not concern you."

"Why are you here?"

A laugh. "You have become a talma, Major. You are my path out of this war and back to the Talman Kovah."

"I don’t understand."

"There is no reason why you should…"

"…The Shikazu race of Tenuet founded its logic upon the premise that the Shikazu can never be conquered. The race flourished within this logic -this sense of the nature of the universe. Then the Shikazu were conquered, and now they are extinct…"

…She walked upon Baina Ya again, stood upon the slips beneath the chalk cliffs of Kidege, and looked out to the sea. Her hair blew in the cool salt breeze.

In the distance was Mallik’s skimmer; its silver foils in the deep blue-green water mirroring the sunlight, blinding her.

She spoke into the handset. "Mallik, how was your catch?"

"Good, Jo. A fine haul, but nothing compared to what I will catch tonight."

"Mallik!"

"My scoops will net round, soft, and warm things-"

"Mallik! You are on a radio! Do you want the world to hear?"

"Joanne, the world knows…"

"…The Timans evolved next to two other intelligent races. Physically and numerically the Timans could not contest the other races, and any kind of physical combat was an early bad to them. But the survival of their race dictated their set of goods. It is logical for a Timan to seek social control over others. And it is logical for a Timan to use such control to manipulate others toward paths of self-destruction.

"While the other races of the planet sharpened their skills at war, the Timans learned how to turn rules back upon themselves. And now, despite their still small numbers, the Timans are one of the most influential races represented in the Ninth Quadrant Federation. The two races that evolved with them are now extinct. Genocide to the Timan is logical…"

…The humming stopped. The voices were very close…

…Someone handling her arm; a low, muttered "kiz," footsteps, voices:

"Jetah Pur Sonaan, see this."

Silence. A new voice. "The skin should be healing… these cracked areas running with red and yellow fluid."

"The human’s skin reacts differently to the ointment than ours."

"This was a conclusion that even your master could reach, Vunseleh."

"Jetah, I meant no disrespect-"

"Remove the bandages and wash off the ointment-" A deep shocked silence. "Her eyes. Her eyes, you fool! Hurry…"

It seemed so easy for her to direct her mind away from the threatening, the uncomfortable.

Mind, she would say, look at Mallik. And she would see Mallik.

Move among the stars, mind. And she would see great blinding spheres race by.

She explored the bottoms of oceans, the layers of clouds surrounding gas giants, tangled tropic jungles…

…A fog of sound; her head on a dizzy high; the smell of flowers; the singsong that was Dracon:

"…Joanne Nicole, can you see this light?"

…Light? What light? Her lips felt thick and fuzzy as she tried to speak. "I can’t see anything unless I open my eyes." She tried to open her eyes.

"I don’t seem to be able to open them."

"…They are open, Joanne Nicole…"

Hours or years later, her mind allowed what she had perceived before to be explored. Blind? Was this the horror so many feared? Not to see?

She swam in drug-soaked dreams; seeing. Seeing things she had never seen with eyes.

…I should react, feel.

But she was detached from her pain, from her awareness, from her feelings. The darkness was something warm, friendly, comfortable. Long stretches of silence, sleep, and a delicious, drugged something between nonexistence and being. Thought, feeling, and reality were mundane irrelevancies as she let herself drift endlessly upon black billows…

…Bursts of light, sound, the taste of copper. The dirt and rock glowing, exploding; the blue streaks of assault landers against the night sky.