Barry Longyear - Enemy Papers

"Then what?" I ask, gesturing with my hand toward the entrance through which the human withdrew. "Why would you and this friend of yours have me go to Draco?"

Abi looks at the package in its hands. "There is a chance, Ro. I do not have the means to ascertain how slim a chance it is, but there is a chance for this peace you want. Before the quarantine cut me off from communication with the Talman Kovah, my work showed that there are event chains that are not proven to end in war."

I shake my head. "I don’t know enough about anything to see any light in that."

The Jetah mentally pushes aside a mountain of explanation with a wave of its hand. "There is a chance for this peace. Bring my work to the kovah and suggest they consider it in the light of the new book of the Talman accepted by the Three Hundred and Eleventh Jetai Diea. There is a chance."

"The Talman? A new book?" I almost wanted to laugh. I waved my golden cube at the Jetah. "Here you are excited over one more myth being tossed on the pile. I thought I was a fool until I met you, you old wind."

Zenak Abi leans back in its chair and studies me for a moment. "This myth just might interest you, young one. It was written about us―those on Amadeen―and it was written by a human."

I look down at the golden cube of pages that I wear because of a weakness: a vague attachment to my parent. The Talman , book of paths, the stories of Dracs from the advent of a god of fire eleven thousand years ago to what? The Jetai Diea, the most brilliant Talman scholars and scientists that exist, have added a new story to The Talman. A story written by a human. On proper Drac worlds, where rites of adulthood still are conducted, the young have to memorize it and be able to recite this new koda as part of the rites of adulthood. What does a human have to say that is worth memorizing by countless future generations of Dracs?

"Zenak Abi, what is the name of this new koda? It would be the Koda Nusinda, correct?"

"Yes. The book has been entered by the Jetai Diea as the Koda Nusinda, The Eyes of Joanne Nicole."

"Do your mysterious sources say what is so special about this particular human’s eyes?"

The Jetah puts on that mocking smile once more. "I am told she was blind and, therefore, could see better than the Ovjetah of the Talman Kovah."

"Blind." I stare at the Jetah while my mind envisions my presentation before the Jetai Diea. Here is what I have for you today, my masters: the work of a demented old traitor with outdated files and no equipment, inspired by a blind human, and brought to you by a Mavedah killer who never stood the rites yet who knows that the effort is wasted before it begins.

Too often my bitterness does my thinking for me. "What was so special about her eyes, Zenak Abi?"

"She saw the path to end the war between the Dracon Chamber and the United States of Earth."

"Leaving just one minor loose end," I added. "Amadeen."

Zenak Abi looked into the flames of his fire for a moment and says, "Her name was Joanne Nicole. This woman took a quadrant-wide war that was killing billions and left one that was killing thousands. She entered with hundreds of worlds at war and departed with one world at war with itself. For this she was branded an enemy by the Dracs, a traitor by the humans, and imprisoned. Your sneers will be of more meaning when you, Yazi Ro, have done as much."

I close my eyes and wonder at the currents and eddies of the universe, swirling and tossing fragments of life this way and that, toward ends that are forever unknowable. Am I tied to this new book of The Talman and to the humans? How is that combination tied to peace on Amadeen, if it is? Or is it all a wish, something of vapor that will vanish with the first breeze? I sigh and let my hands rest upon my lap. "What would you have me do, Abi ?"

Abi holds up its package. It is not much larger than a book and wrapped in waterproofed colthi skin. "Bring my work to the Talman Kovah. When you return to Amadeen, bring me a copy of the Koda Nusinda, The Eyes of Joanne Nicole."

"Return? Bring it back to Amadeen?" I ask, my brows climbing my forehead. "If I should make it to Draco what makes you think the dirt of this planet would ever again see my shadow?"

The Jetah turns its head and looks once more into the flames. "You’ll come back, Yazi Ro. There is nothing more certain."

At night another human called Rick MacFarland and a young Drac named Dulo Rin guide me along frozen, wind-carved trails until we cross the mountain. Toward the dying stars the rest of the Silver Mountain range reaches to the horizon, each pair of glistening peaks enclosing a tiny sanctuary where a few beings, Drac and human, subsist in relative peace. Here and there on the mountain sides and in the patches of valley green, are the scars left by bombs, knife slashes, and fires. I see many scars in various stages of healing, though, the feathery pillow trees and lace vines softening the sharp broken edges of destruction. In time Amadeen can heal itself, if the beings upon it somehow end the horror.

After a few hours of climbing down, we are again in trees. At a place an hour below the treeline, I see a small settlement, shacks and hutches hidden by brush among the trees, Dracs and humans living together, their children playing. The children are still playing at war, but there are both Dracs and humans on each side of the battle; progress of a sort. These are the friends Zenak Abi talked about trying to keep alive.

Deep in the woods I see eyes watching us. There are armed guards throughout the forest. Dracs and humans. Could it be possible that Dracs and humans used to live and work together? Would it be possible for them to do so again? Dracs and humans work together crewing the quarantine stations that orbit Amadeen. Perhaps. They have not bathed in Amadeen’s special waters, though.

Does peace require that I erase from my mind all of the horrors I have witnessed? Can Black October put aside the assassination of Amadeen Front Chairman Gordon Rose? And the slaughter of Rose’s mate? And his three little girls? Can the Mavedah or Tean Sindie forgive the gutting of the Amadeen Chamber deputies? The Ft. Lewis Massacre? The death of Yazi Avo?

There is a small voice in the back of my brain. It asks me, "Are you worthy, Yazi Ro?"

I know the voice. It is Dekiban Lo, Jetah of the Nokbuk Kovah, the Mavedah training academy where the Selector sent the lineless children it chose. One would gasp with exertion, and Lo would be in the poor kiz’s ear with, "Are you worthy, Mikla Namik?" Another would cry in pain, and Lo would shout, "Nias Toh, are you worthy?" One would drop from exhaustion and Lo would whisper, "Are you worthy, Yazi Ro?"

There is a mission before me, one more in an endless line of missions. I have time, however, to judge this one before I perform it. Is this a serious effort to bring peace to Amadeen or is it just to risk my life in a meaningless attempt to achieve a fantasy? If it is the latter, then it is no more than what I have already done countless times. If it is the former, there is still that question without an answer: Are you worthy, Yazi Ro?

There is the whine of an assault lander. As it falls slowly from the night sky, it shows no lights. I reach out and tap Dulo Rin’s shoulder. It turns, Rin’s features barely visible in the starlight. I point toward the sound and the Drac turns back and continues down the trail. "That is your ride," it says. "We must hurry. They won’t wait forever."

As we approach the small lander, there is a question in my heart. Who are the corrupt ones from the quarantine force who will take me off Amadeen? Will they be human or Drac? I have seen humans trade and barter among themselves and with the Mavedah soldiers who guarded them. Humans are corrupt and corruptible by nature. They shamelessly offer bribes to anyone who might serve their wants. I cannot imagine that kind of corruption in a Drac.