The Queen's Honor Guard
by Nyohah
Part 1:
Emancipation
Twenty-Nine Years Before MK1
I.
It did not take Ki Lah Rei long to realize what was happening. She understood what the first flash outside her window meant before she even heard the crash of the falling object's landing, impossibly loud. Emperor Yuen had promised destruction to any who dared to oppose him, and he was delivering it, with the help of his new missiles.
She ducked under a table as the block across the street exploded into a giant fireball from the missile, the shock wave shattering her windows, along with the homes of her former neighbors. She crawled on the jagged shards, ripping her dress and slicing the palms of her hands, but she hardly felt the pain. Her only concern was that of her precious son, barely six months old. Their chance of survival against the hellish extermination was to escape from this city, a city of rebellion. They had decided that they did not have to send their sons into the army as Yuen had ordered. They had built a church and held their services, all against Yuen's will. Yuen, the demon-worshiper, the foulest thing to have ever lived on Mandalore.
In the midst of her terror, Ki Lah Rei was overjoyed to see her baby boy was alive without even a scratch on his tiny body. She pulled him from his crib, holding him tightly in her arms as though to shield him from the world, and fled from her house.
Outside there was destruction, fire, death, everywhere she looked. She ran through the back streets, leaping over burnt, blackened bodies, and trying to ignore the ill fate of those she had known.
It was not long before she reached the outskirts of town. She had not seen even a single member of the Lin Kuei or the army, and she began to feel an overwhelming relief. Maybe she would survive this, after all.
Or maybe not.
A tall man appeared from nowhere and pulled her child from her arms before she could react. She fell to the ground, his vicious pull having stolen her balance. Raising her head, she saw that her attacker was none other than Emperor Yuen himself.
He stood, intimidating as a giant in the flickering light of the flame-engulfed town, holding her baby high in the air at arms' length, examining him. "He will make a good slave," he declared with a taunting smile.
Ki Lah Rei rose to her knees, begging shamelessly. "Please sir, I beseech you...you cannot wish to cause me the great heartache of living without my precious child!"
"But of course not," he answered. She could scarcely believe her ears. Mercy? From him?
Then Emperor Yuen's two-toed boot swung into her lowered head with unbelievable force, snapping her neck, and ending her life.
Princess Yuen Ming carefully poured water into a small cup. Opera practice had already ended, but she had a score to settle. Hsu Lin was her main rival in voice, but Ming was a better acrobat and a better actress. Hsu Lin had a tendency to play all characters as the damsel-in-distress, even those who were strong. Her constant griping, and claiming that the only reason Ming only got the leading roles was because of her royalty, had annoyed Ming to the brink. To prove her point, Ming had challenged her to a contest.
She picked up a long thin pole, gently bent with an obtuse angle and placed the shorter end in her mouth. She balanced the full cup on the end of the pole, and slowly leaned backward from the bar she was sitting on. Flexing her ankle around the bar, she pulled the other leg back and hung, suspended by the strength of her ankle, her toe touching the back of her head, not a drop of water from the cup spilled.
Across the stage, Hsu Lin attempted the same, and Ming heard the crash of glass and body as they hit the stage. She took the cup out of her mouth and handed it to Kei Sa, her handmaiden, before doing a quick back flip to land on her feet.
The sound of a single person's applause reached her ears, and she looked to the doorway to see her friend Rah Cai Yue enthusiastically clapping for her, the radiating deep purple lines of his black eyes sparkling mischievously, as always. She smiled at him, then looked to Hsu Lin, who glared at her as she dejectedly stood up and fled, leaving her mess of broken glass and water behind.
Contented with her demonstration, Ming went to change.
A few minutes later, she stepped out of the changing room, to see her good friend was already awaiting her.
Rah Cai Yue now wore a shirt so garish that she felt she needed to shield her eyes from its glow. The dark blue of its background clashed extraordinarily well with the huge, nearly glowing orange suns printed on it.
"That's horrendous," she said.
"That's the point," he replied, just as she knew he would. They began walking away from the opera house, toward her room high in the tower of the palace.
"You really cannot stand to look like anyone else, can you?"
"No."
"So just where did you dig up that particular monstrosity?" she asked.
"A vendor brought it back from the Bahamas when he was on Earth a few weeks ago. I saw it from the corner of my eye as my mother looked through his imports for some cheap silver, and I knew I had to have it."
"Did she find any?"
"Of course not."
"Perhaps she should try the smugglers instead of the respectable traders."
"The smugglers scare her." He laughed.
Ming fingered her twisting silver earrings, absently. They were a visible sign of her lineage. "Father wants to keep what little silver there is in our family, as a royal symbol. However, there are other options. Gold is just as pretty, and far less expensive."
"And far more common. You don't seem to understand that the very reason she wants silver is its cost, its rarity. Yet she doesn't want to pay astronomical prices for it, so she's trying to get some from Earth—"
"—Where it's much cheaper."
"Of course. She just wants to look like she had the extra money to buy the silver, to make the other women jealous. She could wear as much gold as she wants. We certainly have plenty of it just lying around. It's sort of our family symbol, like your silver. We did get all our money selling the gold to European kingdoms in the time of Columbus, when they all relied on it as their source of power. We still sell it to humans, and though it's not as great a profit as it used to be, we still make more money than we need."
"Your mother really doesn't need to look for cheap silver, if you can afford the real prices."
"I know. That is what's so crazy about it. Sometimes, I think all women are insane." He saw the look she gave him, and corrected, "Except for you, of course. But speaking of gold, I think that in the 1500s is when the real corruption of the Mandalorians began. Everyone blames it on your father, and his Lin Kuei, but I don't think they're completely right. If you have ever heard the tales of the old Mandalorians, which you probably haven't, then you would understand that even after the Transformation they always seemed to be more like one would expect of angels, more like the Oracle, than they were like humans. It wasn't until they started making contact with them, and were able to take advantage of their less developed culture and situations that they changed. I believe that if that had never happened, a tyrant like your father would never have had any support, and would never have been able to take over as he had. He would have been crushed like a tiny insect."
"So what your saying is that it's all the humans' fault for being weak and young."
"Oh, sure. Humans are so easy to blame. I could probably blame every bad thing that has ever happened on the humans. Oh, they killed a butterfly that year, that must be what caused this war." He grinned at her.
"You are such a weirdo." Ming shook her head.
"Yeah, I know. This guy mistook me for a slave the other day. He just pushed me out of his way and yelled at me, calling me 'boy'. I don't know why he thought I was one. It couldn't have had anything to do with the fact that I was romping about slaves' quarters getting the latest news and treating them like people." He shook his head, sadly. "I feel really bad for them. They're just like us, only they don't have real names. I'm glad my parents don't use slaves. I asked my mother about it once, and she got angry, saying she was a respectable woman and she could do her own housework. I guess she really believes that a woman's main duty is to take care of her family."
"I don't like the slavery, either. I guess by normal palace standards I spoil Kei Sa. But I know she's a person, and she's a very agreeable one at that. My father sometimes yells at me for treating her like a friend, but that's what she is. If I had my choice, I'd set them all free."
"Your father's wrong about many things, like the trade restriction. That's the only real reason there are smugglers. You know, I almost went into a smuggling place once," he reflected. "It wasn't for silver; I couldn't care less about your silver. There was an incredible sword inside."
"Speaking of which," interjected Ming, "Have you decided which weapon you wish to specialize in for training? I would pick the bo if I could."
"I am infinitely sorry that you were born of the inferior sex—"
"Am I going to have to hit you!" Ming retaliated, stepping away in anger.
"—But I have chosen a weapon." He grinned. "The short sword. The sword I saw in the smuggler's display is what inspired me. It was so beautiful. I could hear it calling to me: 'Cai Yue, take me, you need me...' Well, maybe not, but you understand, don't you? Perhaps, after I learn how to fight with my sword, I can persuade my parents to give me enough money to have a sword like that forged. Do you think they would?"
Ming was still laughing from the voice he had created when pretending to be the sword. "I think they'd be overjoyed that it wasn't a stupid shirt."
"Hey, be nice. You know, I really did want that sword, but I was scared to get it. Not because the smugglers frighten me, but because of what your father would do to me if I got caught making contact with a smuggler."
"I think you're overestimating the punishment my father would bestow on you."
"Are you kidding? Overestimating the cruelty of your evil tyrannical father? That's not possible."
Ming gasped and slapped her hand over his mouth. "Cai Yue! Watch what you're saying."
"It's true. Ming, the humans have more freedom than us, for crying out loud. Think about it—freedom of speech, freedom of the press, freedom of religion. They either have these things or want them badly enough to put up some sort of resistance. And it's certainly not a matter of intelligence of cultural development. The Americans have these freedoms guaranteed. It's the foundation of their country. And look at what they're wearing!"
Ming raised her eyebrows. "Look at what you're wearing."
"Don't interrupt my speech. The Americans and I are not comparable. I'm wearing this to be different. The Americans are being 'cool'. Honestly though, bell-bottoms." He threw his hands in the air with exasperation. "Bell-bottoms! Why?"
Cai Yue suddenly froze, then dropped his hands and looked at Ming. "Where was I?"
"Freedom of speech..."
"Ah, yes. Freedom of speech and freedom of the press. They can say whatever they want or print things derogatory about their leader and their government cannot imprison or kill them simply for that. Freedom of religion..." He trailed off, and opened the door for her, for they had reached the tower. "Ming, half of the rebellions are about religion. It used to be such an integral part of the Mandalorian culture. And your father outlawed it. Those people just want to read their Bibles. They're not asking for church services, they're not asking to be able to evangelize. They want to read a book."
"So maybe my father is a tyrant. That doesn't make him complete evil."
"He had your mother assassinated!"
"You don't know that!" Ming cried, suddenly on the verge of hysterics.
"Maybe it's not a proven fact, but you ask anyone—besides your father or a Lin Kuei, or even part of the army; you don't want to be killed—and that's what they'll tell you. Even your great-great-grandmother."
"Stop," pleaded Ming, increasing her pace as she rounded the last stair and entered the hall to her room. Cai Yue chased her and grabbed her arm, making her listen.
"Maybe you don't want to hear what I have to say, but it's the truth. Your father is evil. No other word describes him."
"It's not true..." whispered Ming through her tears; "It's not possible..."
"There's a word for you, Yuen Ming, and it starts with 'denial'."
She wrenched her arm from his grasp and dashed into her suite, slamming the door in his face.
Rah Cai Yue stood in silence for several seconds. "I'm sorry to have to tell you these things," he whispered finally, well aware that Ming could not possibly hear him. "But if I don't, who will? And I care about you far too much to see you fall under your father's control." Shaking his head, he slowly started the long trek back to his father's section of the palace.
"You are late," said Shang Tsung. "The Master is not pleased."
"I was unavoidably detained. The rebels must be crushed without hesitation or others will join their cause." Emperor Yuen slightly raised an eyebrow, as if challenging the sorcerer to press the subject.
Evil came in many different forms, and it was clearly demonstrated by these two. Shang Tsung was slight of stature, formerly a Chinese human. He had sold his soul in exchange for the necromantic power that allowed him to gain life and power from the stolen souls of others. His blank white eyes reflected this emptiness. His brain child, the Mortal Kombat tournament, had necessitated the stockpiling of this power, and Shang Tsung had not been able to use sufficient quantities of it to restore his youth in quite some time. Therefore, he was beginning to show his true age, and he was very old, indeed.
Emperor Yuen looked as though he could easily pulverize in single combat anyone who dared to defy him in even the smallest degree. He wore what was essentially a ninja uniform, though not a Lin Kuei outfit. He was intimidating enough with his stern gaze, greater than average height, and solid build that the only identification he needed was the small silver pin emblazoned with his family crest on his collar. As was the way with Mandalorians, he retained a fair amount of youth though he had nearly full-grown twin children. A sword rested on his hip, a symbol of the honor he did not possess. Usually he was accompanied by two of his most trusted Lin Kuei, in case someone was suicidal enough to attempt an assassination, but he brought no one with him to the secret throne room of the Demon Master. The Empire which he had created spanned all but one of the habitable planets in the galaxy—Earth, which was protected from outside influence, and from that the need for the Mortal Kombat tournament had risen.
"Ah, of course," acknowledged Tsung, as they began their descent into the Master's lair. "We must never let them think they are stronger than we are. It gives them courage, and sometimes suicidal, last-chance shots succeed, if they are brave enough to try."
"You sound as if you are talking from experience, necromancer."
"Remind me to tell you of Kung Lao sometime. It's his fault I lost the tournament so many years ago. My only regret is that he didn't die slowly..."
"Speaking of your tournament, is your plan succeeding?"
"There is only a little less than twenty-nine more years until the last one I will ever have to do."
"You sound overconfident, sorcerer. What if you lose the next one?"
"Impossible, Emperor. You have met Goro, haven't you?" Tsung opened another door and they started down the stairs. "And just how is lovely Ming doing?"
Yuen gave him a questioning look. "My daughter?"
"Yes! How many Mings do you know?"
"She's fine," he said flatly.
"Does she look like her mother?"
"Yes, I guess she does," Yuen answered, suspiciously regarding his ally.
"So blinded by power he can't even recognize beauty," murmured Tsung under his breath.
"What was that, sorcerer?"
"Nothing of importance, Emperor," he replied, just as they rounded the corner and entered the lair of the Demon Master.
*Number Two, Number Three, enter,* the master sent telepathically, not moving from his lying position on his dragon shaped pallet. He was yet another form of evil, the kind that had never had a chance to be righteous. He had been created by Lucifer, a eunuch, immortal. *There is a problem that has come to my attention, regarding the prophecies that I have seen. You remember that I have foreseen that our grip on the galaxy will be disrupted twice, the second forever.*
"But of course, Master," said Tsung.
*It has come to my attention that your daughter, Number Three, shares many characteristics with one I have seen. She is a threat to us.*
"My daughter could never hurt a fly, Master," said Emperor Yuen. "She has no courage."
Shang Tsung shook his head. "Well, you can't expect the first Mandalorian in history to ally with us to understand everything immediately. She does not have to be one who destroys us. She could merely be an influence on the one who causes our defeat. Whatever the case, she must be important if the Master has seen her." He looked over to the pallet. "But you did say that the Mandalorians have to defeat us twice, and they haven't defeated us yet, so we still have an extra chance to use up. What are you worried about?"
"If any kind of battle is fought, we could lose valuable resources," said Yuen.
*More importantly, the best way to keep them from winning twice, is to keep them from winning once.*
"That is a good point, Master," agreed Tsung. "Do not worry, we will take care of Ming."
"So just how do you propose we take care of Ming, sorcerer?" The two conspirators were walking back to the surface. "I say we simply kill her."
"Emperor! I am shocked! Kill your own daughter? And such a beautiful one, indeed. No, no, no. But, say, if I were to marry your daughter, then I could control her, and she could not fight against me."
"Marry her? You're sure you would be willing to do that."
"Willing? Emperor, I'd be delighted! And besides, then, if something were to happen to you. Who would inherit the Mandalorian Empire? Not that weakling son of yours. Me."
"Yes, I suppose that would work out rather nicely." Emperor Yuen smiled.