The Enemy Papers Page 25

  "I'll risk bumping into a few things, Pur Sonaan. I don't bruise easily."

  "But you are still a human, Joanne Nicole. We have patients and staff in this institution that would attack you for that fact alone. You are guarded here, and everyone in this area knows that you are under Tora Soam's protection. You must stay in this room."

  She felt like flopping back upon her bed, but something forced her to remain standing. "I can move about this room?"

  "... Yes. But only in this room."

  "And I want some noise. Anything. Can I have a ..." Nicole couldn't think of the Drac words. "I want some way to hear the news. Radio ... radio pictures."

  "Impossible! Patients do not have such things." Pur Sonaan moved a step closer to her. "Your demands test the boundaries of Tora Soam's influence."

  "I want to hear news—something—anything!"

  "Joanne Nicole ... I will see what can be done." Thoughtful silence. "A receiver is impossible, but I can have Leonid Mitzak talk to you very quietly about current events. Read to you ... perhaps some other things."

  Pur's footsteps left the room and Nicole collapsed upon her bed. After a few moments of sitting, she fell over onto her left side and slept.

  "...Your name?"

  "Joanne Nicole."

  "The name of the father?"

  "Mallik Nicole."

  "And where does he reside?"

  "He's dead."

  "Were you married?"

  "Yes,"

  "Under what jurisdiction's laws?"

  "Planet Baina Ya, United States of Earth,"

  "I see."

  Dull eyes watching line-filled screens as fat fingers scratched with scribers at the glass. "Now let me explain the legal circumstances regarding abortion. It—"

  "I'm not here for an abortion. I want the child to be born. I simply never want to see it. It is to be put up for immediate adoption."

  "I see. You plan to relinquish all rights to your child?"

  "Yes."

  "And what would your husband think about this?"

  "He's dead."

  "But if he were alive—"

  "He's dead..."

  ...Mitzak, reading the news out loud, interrupted himself with a fit of laughing.

  "What's so funny?"

  "The Ninth Quadrant Federation's study committee will vote soon on the question of whether or not to extend membership invitations to the Dracon Chamber and the United States of Earth—as if either would join if asked. It says here that the proposal is not expected to pass the committee. No kidding." Again he laughed.

  Nicole sat up on her bed and stretched her arms. "Perhaps, Mitzak, this war could have been avoided if we were members of the Quadrant." She relaxed her arms, letting them fall to her lap.

  "A big if, Nicole."

  Mitzak continued reading ....

  ...the weight had left her. It was as though a tumor had been removed, or a gangrenous limb amputated.

  She sat on the grass of the campus and watched the other students. Her face looked no different from their faces. But the way they talked, what they said, the blind confidence of never having experienced any part of life, set them apart.

  She risked telling one of them her story.

  "Oh, I don't think I could stand not knowing what the child was, or what it would be."

  "You would be surprised what you can stand."

  "Joanne, sometimes you seem so heartless ...."

  Heartless.

  It was never a lack of heart; it was a lack of guts ....

  Awake, and again Nicole sat up and moved around until her feet were on the floor.

  The darkness. Damn the dark. She stood up, swallowed to keep down her chow, then held out her left hand and took a timid step forward. Beneath her feet was the same cool softness; her searching fingers could find nothing. One step from the bed. Another step, and far to her left she felt a metal table.

  Nicole went to it—one step, left turn, one step—and began to examine the objects on the table. There were small, capped containers; and she opened each one in turn and sniffed. The ointment used on her after Tokyo Rose's visit and that odor of flowers were the only two that she could identify.

  A turn to her right, arms extended, and she moved three steps. Her hands came into contact with the spongy, honeycombed surface of a wall. It was designed to deaden sound, at a time when her ears and mind craved stimulation.

  Keeping her hands in contact with the wall, she moved to her right until the wall curved toward her, the room had no comers. Farther to the right, and she felt a row of handles recessed into the wall's surface.

  She reached in, pulled on the first handle, and the surface pulled out. It was a drawer. She felt inside and found it empty. The next two drawers were the same. With difficulty she squatted down and opened the fourth drawer.

  The smell!

  She recoiled at the odor—an odor that whipped all of her carefully hidden nightmares into the open. The fourth drawer contained her uniform.

  She touched the familiar cloth and let the feelings rage through her as she smelled the filth from her body, the dried mud of Catvishnu, the smoke from the burning school, and that Drac bum ointment that had blinded her.

  That chasm of self-pity yawned before her again, and she sat on the floor and let herself tumble in. She felt the tears run down her cheeks and splash on her lap. She touched the place where the tears had fallen and told herself that she was naked. She was naked and didn't care.

  The footsteps of Pur Sonaan and Vunseleh Het entered the room to her right. Pur Sonaan's voice spoke sharply to Vunseleh.

  "Empty head! Find her a robe to wear!"

  "Yes, Jetah."

  Vunseleh's footsteps left the room. Pur Sonaan stood silently for a moment. Then it moved, and Nicole felt a cloth in a hand drying her lap, drying the tears from her face.

  "Why did you keep my uniform? Why?"

  "It belongs to you. We need your permission to dispose of it."

  "Throw it out! Throw it out!"

  Nicole pushed the drawer shut and let her hands fall to her lap. "Pur Sonaan, you are a Drac. You have to hate humans, don't you?" She let the words hang in the air as she let her mouth form for the first time the words her mind would not allow herself to think. "Give me something."

  "Something, Joanne Nicole?"

  "Anything that will kill me."

  She sensed the Jetah stand upright. Pur said nothing for long, strained moments; its breath coming in rapid hisses. Then it answered. "You think this to be a small favor you ask? You ask me to soil myself, Joanne Nicole! Never do so again!"

  She felt its hands beneath her shoulders as it easily lifted her to her feet and led her to the bed. Nicole sat on the bed, her feet on the floor, her eyes dribbling more tears. "Pur Sonaan?"

  "Yes?"

  "If I am so important to this Tora Soam character, why does it never come to see me?"

  Pur Sonaan snorted out a brief laugh. -"Tora Soam is Ovjetah of the Talman Kovah. The demands on its time, especially because of the war, are tremendous. But Tora Soam asks about you when it can ... as does Sin Vidak, the child you saved. Did you know ... that Sin Vidak has now entered training for the Tsien Denvedah?"

  Nicole sat back, stunned. "The Tsien Denvedah? That little child?" Did I pull its narrow yellow ass out of the flames to provide fodder for the Drac meatgrinder? To hit the dirt in a little red suit and kill humans? "Sin Vidak has to be too young!"

  "Joanne Nicole, Dracs reach adulthood in approximately a fifth of the time it takes humans."

  "I know, but still ..."

  "Sin Vidak is an adult now." Pur Sonaan paused. "It has been a long time since you were in V'Butaan." A long time.

  "How long? In my time?"

  Much later, Mitzak was sent in with the information. It had been twenty months since V'Butaan. Twenty months.

  How could ... how could I have lost almost two years?

  She felt folds of cloth placed into her hands. "Here is your ro
be. Do you want me to help you put it on?"

  "No."

  Mitzak left the room to be replaced by Pur Sonaan. Nicole used the palm of her right hand to wipe the wetness from her face.

  The Drac spoke. "There is something I must say. Joanne Nicole, your life is your own property, and ending it is your right and your choice. But should you choose to end it, you must realize that the exercise of such a right is your own task. Never ask another to perform it for you."

  Pur Sonaan's heavy footsteps left the room, and Joanne Nicole placed her face upon the bed.

  She damned herself for her tears. But there was a little yellow child who was earning the right to proudly wear the red of the Tsien Denvedah, and there had to be tears.

  SEVEN

  "Curse the mistakes, rail at them, regret them, learn from them. But do not wish for the perfection of time when mistakes will no longer be made, for that is what we call death."

  —The Story of Cohneret, Koda Tarmeda, The Talman

  The next day on the floor, as Nicole tried to exercise, she listened to Mitzak reading the news.

  "This is strange."

  "What's strange, Mitzak?"

  "The Ninth Quadrant study committee voted down the invitations—"

  "Just as you said they would."

  "—but the vote was very close. Much closer than I expected. And Hissied 'do Timan—delegate from Timan—was the only abstention." Mitzak was silent for a long time.

  "What are you thinking about?"

  A pause then the sounds of Mitzak rearranging himself in his chair ... I don't understand the reason for this abstention."

  "Who can figure a Timan, Mitzak? Most of them are so wrapped up wheeling and dealing I doubt if they know themselves what they're doing half of the time. After straining herself to do another situp, Nicole flopped flat on her back. "Mitzak, is there any news on the war?"

  "Always."

  A silence, then he continued reading. "This day Het Kraakar, First Warmaster of the Dracon Fleet, announced through its representative that the Planet Ditaar has fallen to the forces of the United States of Earth. Figures on military and civilian casualties ..."

  Nicole heard him stand. "Excuse me." His footsteps left the room.

  Alone, listening to footsteps. It was cleaning. Nicole sat up. "Are you allowed to speak to me now?"

  "Yes. Yes I am." The voice was quiet, nervous, meek. "I would have talked much sooner—I have so many questions—but silence here is the rule."

  "I understand."

  "Joanne Nicole?"

  "Yes—what is your name?"

  "Vencha Eban. Joanne Nicole? Could you get up on the bed so that I can clean?"

  "Of course."

  Nicole nodded, reached to the bed, and pulled herself to her feet. She retrieved her robe from the bed and pulled it on over her head, letting the cape wrap around her left arm. Sitting on the bed, she pulled up her feet.

  "Vencha Eban, where can I take a shower? Clean myself?"

  "There is a place attached to this room." More footsteps, going to her right. "The door is locked. Perhaps you are not to wash until the healing of your skin is complete."

  "I would still like to stop using the bedpan. I can get around sufficiently."

  Nicole heard a door open. "The waste room is open for you."

  "Good."

  A series of bruises and barked shins had discouraged her from exploring that portion of the room very far, and all that she had found was the door that was locked.

  "Jetah Pur Sonaan said it was very important that I talk to you, Joanne Nicole. Is there something is particular you wish to hear?"

  "No. Anything." She thought for a moment about Mitzak's self-righteous attitude concerning talma. "Do you know anything about The Talman?"

  "Of course. Reciting it is part of the right of adulthood."

  "Reciting it? The entire thing?"

  "Yes. Would you like to hear a recitation?"

  "Yes."

  "Is there any particular part you would like to hear?"

  "No, Vencha Eban. Pick whatever you want. I just want noise."

  "It is not just noise."

  "I know. I meant no offense. Go on."

  "I will recite 'The Story of Shizumaat' while I am cleaning. It is one of my favorites. You must remember that I speak this story as Namndas, the narrator of Shizumaat's story."

  "I understand."

  As the tinny hum of cleaning continued in the room, Vencha Eban recited:

  "I speak these things of Shizumaat to you; for I am Namndas, the friend of Shizumaat; the one who stood and waited at the mark.

  "And this is my teacher's story: The firstborn of Sindieah Nu was Sindieah Ay. After its parent had retired from the servants, and during Sindieah Ay's rule of the servants of Aakva, the Temple of Uhe was completed.

  "The cut-stone walls of the temple were as tall as eight Sindie and they enclosed an area of sixty by ninety paces. The roof of wooden beams and slabstone was supported by square stone columns arranged in six proportionate rectangles.

  "At the center of the smallest rectangle was the great stone tomb that covered Uhe's ashes. The eastern wall of the temple was an open row of stone columns. Northern and southern walls each had center doorways only two paces wide. The wall facing the Madah had no opening ...."

  Madah, Nicole thought to herself. What is the Madah? "During the day, light was provided by Aakva. the Parent of All; during the night, light was provided by the nine hundred oil lamps that were suspended from the temple's great ceiling.

  "The shelters around the temple were separated by narrow streets, and were made of both stone and wood. In one of these houses, covered by the afternoon shadow of the temple, a Sindie shaper of iron that was in Butaan to perform its duty to Aakva through labor gave birth to a child.

  "The shaper of iron's name was Caduah; and Caduah named its child Shizumaat.

  "On the beginning of Shizumaat's third year, Caduah entered its child in the temple to perform before the servants the rites of adulthood. Shizumaat recited the story of creation, the laws, and the story of Uhe; and then Shizumaat recited its family line from its parent, Caduah, to the founder of its line, the Mavedah hunter called Limish ...."

  Madah, again, thought Nicole. Except this time it is not vemadah; it's Mavedah. The same name used by the Drac terrorists on Amadeen.

  "And when the rites were completed, Caduah applied for Shizumaat to become a servant of Aakva.

  "Ebneh was the servant who had heard the child's recitation, and Ebneh was sufficiently impressed by the performance that it enrolled Shizumaat into the Aakva Kovah.

  "The nights Shizumaat would spend in its parent's house; the days Shizumaat would spend in the temple learning the secrets, signs, laws, wishes, and visions of the Parent of All.

  "I, Namndas, had entered the Aakva Kovah the year before Shizumaat, and was placed in charge of Shizumaat's class. I drew this duty because the servants of the temple considered me the least worthy of my own class. While my companions sat at the feet of the servants and engaged in learned discourse, I would chase dirt—"

  Vencha laughed. It was not hard to see who Vencha identified with. Tail-End Charlie; the hind teat; the ten percent that never gets the word.

  Nicole smiled. Namndas was a creature of the Universe, and it had lots of human company.

  Vencha Eban, as Namndas, continued:

  "My charges were assigned a place in the darkness next to the Madah wall of the temple, where my own class had begun the year before. On the morning of the first day of their instruction, they sat upon the smooth stone floor and listened as I spoke the rules of the temple.

  "'I, Namndas, am your charge-of-class. You are the lowest class in the temple, and for this reason, the care and cleaning of the temple is left to you. I tell you now that I will never find as much as a single fleck of dust in the temple while I am your charge-of-class. You will clean the filth from the air before it lands upon these stones; you will wash the dust from th
e feet of those who enter the temple.'

  "I pointed toward the soot-blackened ceiling. 'Every evening it is your responsibility to trim and fuel the temple's lamps. Through all of this, you will keep clean yourselves.'

  "Shizumaat stood. It was tall for its age, and there was a strange brightness to its eyes. 'Namndas, when are we to be given our instruction? When will we learn?'

  "I felt my face grow hot. Such impudence! 'You shall be allowed to receive instruction when I inform Servant Ebneh that you are worthy. Sit and be silent!' Shizumaat resumed its seat upon the floor, and I issued a glare that encompassed all nine of the students. 'You will not speak except in answer to a question from me or from one of the servants. You are here to learn, and the first thing you must learn is obedience.'

  "I narrowed my glare to Shizumaat and saw it carrying an enigmatic expression upon its face. I spoke to Shizumaat. 'I cannot read your face, new-charge. What does it say?'

  "Shizumaat remained seated upon the floor, but looked at me as it spoke. 'Does Aakva, then, judge its servants by how well they imitate the dumb animals and their skill at wielding a scrub rag?'

  "'Your words court disaster.'

  "'Namndas, when you asked your question, did you want from me lies or truth?'

  "'This is a temple of truth. What are you called?'

  "'I am called Shizumaat.'

  "'Then, Shizumaat, I must tell you that I see little hope for your graduation from the Madah wall to the center of the temple.'

  "Shizumaat nodded and looked toward Uhe's tomb. 'I think the truth serves you at last, Namndas—'"

  Nicole heard Pur Sonaan's heavy footsteps enter the room, and there followed a delightful, horrified little gasp out of Vencha Eban. No words were exchanged, but Nicole's skin virtually tingled with what she sensed to be highly meaningful glances between the Jetah and Vencha Eban.

  "Do you have cleaning to do?"

  "Yes, Jetah. I was just resting for a moment."

  "Emmm."

  The sounds of vigorous cleaning began.

  Nicole spoke to the Jetah. "Is there anything new concerning my eyes?"

  The Jetah sighed. "The more we learn, the closer we get; and the closer we get, the more there is to learn. The anatomy of the human eye is considerably different than ours, and human eyes for experimentation are not easy to come by."