The Queen's Honor Guard
by Nyohah
Twenty-Seven Years Before MK1
III.
The dank, misty forest was silent, every stray movement amplified and ghostlike. A patrolling sentry saluted and continued his strictly defined route, as Li Wei Yong scanned the area. He scoured the tree branches from the closest supply tent to the patch of broken-down and twisted trees, leveled by a former cyclone—the range a full one hundred eighty degrees—all without turning his head. Finally, a nondescript clump of leaves rustled slightly, as Nai Do Xian carefully shifted position to alleviate the strain on aching muscles, and Li Wei Yong began to climb.
Few were able to tolerate the long waits of inactivity that were required of snipers, and Do Xian was the best Wei Yong had ever encountered. The job required great mental and physical discipline: the patience to wait, the strength to lie still, and the attentiveness to notice everything, even after hours of dormancy. Wei Yong suspected that a main factor in Do Xian's ability was the support of his element, earth. He lay on a large branch, straddling the trunk, his crossbow, which had been redesigned with the objective of silence, steadily pointed to the forest floor below.
Wei Yong climbed to an adjacent branch. "Marvels of engineering," he said, his voiced garbled by the breathing filter built into the helmet he wore, speaking of the unique curvature of the view-plate that allowed an entire half-circle to be viewed through its narrow slit. He pulled off the helmet, examining its green camouflage paint, which matched the battle armor he wore. "Are you certain you don't want one?" he asked.
"I'm certain I don't need anything that will force me to relearn how to aim, thank you, sir," replied the other, his eyes never leaving the dense foliage below.
"One blast from that acid and you won't have any eyes left with which to aim."
"I'll have to take that chance, sir."
The general sighed. "Any sign of them?"
"No, sir. No Chiss anywhere."
A little less than a month earlier, the Chiss had inexplicably rebelled and began to randomly attack visitors to their planet. It was suspected that there had been an outside influence on their behavior, but without evidence supporting the assumption, no conclusion could be made.
The reptilian Chiss had little technology, but possessed superior instinct and cunning. Their nasty habit of spitting acidic venom had forced the Mandalorian army to dredge up antiquated battle armor. When this caused the reptiles only to refine their aim and target faces, a new helmet was commissioned, to replace that of old and protect against the acid while not restricting vision. Wei Yong had received the first experimental batch for review hours earlier, and intended to send them through 'field testing' before he replied with his critiques, immediately distributing them among the soldiers as standard issue.
"Very well," said Wei Yong. "Keep up the good work."
"Always, sir," Do Xian replied, in neither a snide nor an arrogant manner, and a grin spread on the general's face as he climbed back down the great tree.
What he saw at the bottom replaced it with a grimace. Captain Lan Yiao Nih awaited the general, his company of soldiers standing at attention behind him. His habit of insubordination had scarcely improved since the last time he was readmitted into the army. Wei Yong would have preferred to discharge him permanently, but after Emperor Yuen's and his father's death, the majority of high-ranking officers had been dismissed, and Wei Yong had been forced to accept as officers any who showed potential.
"I still can't believe I promoted you," muttered Wei Yong.
The captain ignored his remark. "A mass of Chiss has been spotted rapidly approaching camp from the west. We eagerly await your orders," he concluded with sarcastically excessive cheer.
"Set up a defensive line with the rest of the soldiers, equally spread along the entire perimeter." The exasperation in his voice outlined the unspoken remark, Do I have to tell you everything?
Yiao Nih only smiled at the silent rebuke. "Weren't you supposed to be going to Edenia tomorrow?"
"Yes," hissed the general, wishing away the captain.
"Apparently, you won't be."
"Apparently."
"And you're absolutely certain it is safe?" inquired Yuen Jer Rod, prodding the rough volcanic rock underfoot with his toe.
Sindel nodded. Daughter to an aging old man who became more senile with every passing day, she was the true leader of Edenia's government. Self-assured and competent, she had led the visiting Mandalorians to the site of their soon-to-be-built embassy, awaiting approval on all plans before construction could begin. She was slightly taller than the average Mandalorian woman, though shorter than many Edenian women, naturally possessing the light skin that was characteristic of Edenia's ancient ruling class, but having carefully tanned it to the swarthy copper skin of all other Edenians. "Considering the weight of all the equipment that has been run over the site," she said, "if it was going to cave in, it would have already. Besides, everything will be in place and tested long before we allow your people to move in. If anything happens, it will happen to us."
The planet Edenia, named in much the same manner as human explorers had once named Greenland, consisted almost entirely of bare volcanic rock, forming a sweltering desert broken only by the rare oasis, and filled with the most remarkable gems as a remnant of the former violent volcanic activity. On occasion, layers of the rock would collapse under the weight of a building, or even something as light as a person where the rock was untested, making exploration a risky undertaking.
"All this surrounding rock," continued Jer Rod, "will be smoothed, naturally, creating the exceptionally coarse sand that will fill in all other crevices." Having been tutored since childhood, Jer Rod spoke Edenian smoothly.
"Precisely," affirmed Sindel.
Jer Rod bit into a slice of the tart citrus fruit he'd been given, grown from one of the astoundingly fertile oases, and looked to his advisors for confirmation.
The architect absently glanced up from studying the plans. "It seems stable," he commented in his home language.
"Which?" Jer Rod asked, "The building or the land?"
"Both," acknowledged the geologist.
"And what does my darling, silent sister think?"
Li Yuen Ming seemed distracted, glancing to and from her brother continuously as she searched for the source of a slightly amplified voice. "I can find no fault, brother," she said finally.
"Well, then," he said, lowering his voice, and noticing her preoccupation. "If you'd like to wander the area, we don't need you, Ming."
She was silently hurt, but nodded her agreement and watched them move away, leaving her alone with her honorary bodyguard, a member of Edenia's elite group of woman fighters, the Kitsune. She was taller than Ming, firmly muscled, and dressed in a tight leather tunic and pants, nearly the same copper as her skin and the sun-faded streaks in her not-quite-black hair. Wickedly sharp teeth from an unknown predatory creature were strung across her forehead, attached to a band that served to keep her unruly hair away from her face. She wore no weapon out of diplomacy, but though the lack was noticeable, she did not seem to need any sort of aid in order to protect her charge.
Once again, Ming turned to the gathering of people. The voice that held them enrapt was strikingly familiar, and Ming's heart was torn between the hope that she was not correct in her identification of the voice, and the joyous hope that she was. She edged toward the Edenian crowd, noting the Mandalorians milling about them—ladies in tidy white dresses, men in black, thick cotton coats. The idea of such a mission of the Mandalorian church was not aberrant, nor was she surprised to see one on Edenia; she had, in fact, previously known that it had come. The peculiarity of this mission lay in its unusually large, attentive crowd that grew every minute, and in the pleasant, charismatic voice that caused them to do so.
He brandished a worn, leather-bound book that she knew well, and preached eloquently with a voice she also knew well, though the language was unfamiliar. The long black coat he wore, uniform for every Mandalorian priest, was the antithesis of the brightly colored clothing that had once been his preference.
Li Yuen Ming swallowed, trying to lessen the lump in her throat. "Please," she said, turning to the Kitsune, "fetch the one who is speaking and send him to my room. I shall return to the palace immediately."
The warrior nodded, and expertly skirted the crowd, many aiding her cause by stepping aside upon recognizing the woman as one of the Kitsune. Disrespecting the rights of the speaker, the woman climbed onto the stage, her uncouth manner bewildering many, Rah Cai Yue included.
He switched off his microphone and faced the muscular woman, slightly wary that she had decided to end his teaching with violence. "Is there something you need?" he asked hesitantly.
"Her Majesty Li Yuen Ming wishes to converse with you."
Cai Yue glanced from the woman to the crowd and back several times, incredulous. "I'm slightly busy at the moment."
The warrioress raised her eyebrows skeptically. "You would cause Her Royal Highness to wait?"
"Well...yes." As the woman crossed her arms in a careless movement that insinuated his fate was of his own design, he clarified, "I'm not afraid of Yuen Ming," and flicked on his microphone to continue and try to re-gather the scattered thoughts and trust of his listeners.
Yet, if he was not afraid of his former friend, why was there a tremble in his hands and a queasiness in his stomach that undermined his concentration and diminished the impact of his words? He clumsily finished his sermon, and his unsteadiness only grew as the Kitsune escorted him into the palace and through halls in which the light of every chandelier was refracted by gems of every color and worth, giving the walls the effect of ice, as though the builders of the palace were so arrogant to build a shrine to the arctic in the heart of a desert.
The Kitsune woman halted in the heights of the guest section, stopping beside the one visible doorway and eyeing Cai Yue with a fair amount of suspicion. After a momentary pause he jerked open the right side of the double-door and forced himself inside. Ming was standing near her window, gazing out at the infinite black rock that baked under the sun's relentless rays. She turned her head to face him, arms clasped behind her back, but upon seeing his face, a smile twisted hers and she as much as ran to embrace him tightly. He stood limp, stunned, then smiled and returned her hug.
In as abrupt a mood swing as he had ever encountered, she pulled herself free and slapped him with the force of a whitecap, sending him reeling in search of balance and comprehension.
"What right do you think you have," she demanded, her voice husky with strained emotion, far different from the clear soprano he treasured, "disappearing as you did?"
He could only blink, rubbing his face where it burned as though he'd been lashed.
"An entire year, Cai Yue," she emphasized. "I thought you'd died." She turned away, tightly closing her eyes.
He stared at the floor, searching for the words to describe his choice and his reasons. "I needed time away," he said finally. "Once I was able to think of you without the pain, it was easier not to see you. Besides," he added, speaking more to the floor in his hurt, "you had your husband."
Ming spun around and began to speak, but just as suddenly, she creased together her eyebrows and snapped her mouth shut, as though thinking better of it. She stood, facing him, but not looking at him, huddling in an insecure manner, much the same as Cai Yue. The tension gripped every molecule of air and froze it in place, denying it movement. The slightest breath seemed poised to shatter the room.
As it became apparent that regardless of anything that happened, something would have to be broken, Cai Yue blurted, "Will the embassy have emerald and sapphire chandeliers?"
Ming lifted her gaze to stare at him and the unexpected question that had surfaced. "I suppose it might." She bit her lip, searching for her own harmless question and, noticing his heavy coat, finding it. "Aren't you hot?"
He looked at her for a moment and half-smiled. "And how many dresses is Her Righteousness wearing today?"
Ming felt a flush warm her cheeks. "I missed you," she admitted.
"You always do," he said impishly, his mouth quirking the rest of the way into a smile. Ming began to laugh without entirely knowing why, as though her relief had seized control of her emotions, and Cai Yue was unable to keep from joining her.
The days passed effortlessly, the Mandalorian visitors to Edenia gradually becoming accustomed to the heat, and Ming's face began to darken into a tan that would not be easy to cover with paint when she returned to her home. She began to revel in her lack of obligations almost as much as she missed the moisture and abundant plant-life of Mandalore.
She tromped down the grand staircase of the palace's main hall at dawn, dressed in a plain slate-colored dress and determined to buy a lovely gift for her great-great-grandmother and Kei Sa, even as she wondered if the former slave would even wear one of the Edenians' remarkable stones. Quietly she sang to herself the hymn Cai Yue had taught her in the most recent of his many visits.
At the bottom of the stairs, she spun in a joyous, carefree pirouette, and leapt like a dancer toward the permanently opened doors of the palace, which revealed the booths of the market outside. Despite its primitive appearance, the Edenian capital's market hosted the finest jewels that could ever be found at the lowest, most competitive prices.
Hearing a voice speaking orders in her own language, Ming halted and turned her head toward the sound, which came from the hangar. She recognized her brother's geological advisor, cautioning a worker to take care with the equipment that was being loaded into their starship.
"Are we leaving?" she asked.
The advisor looked at her sympathetically. "I think you'd better talk to your brother," he said quietly.
She turned quickly to see Jer Rod in the corner, his head drooping slightly as he watched the work. "Jer Rod," she called, "what is this?"
"I thought you were asleep," he noted.
"What's happened?"
"I think you'd better sit," he said, motioning to take her inside the ship.
"Jer Rod," she said, resisting his attempt to move her toward its opening, "tell me what has happened."
He breathed deeply. "Grandmamma has died."
Ming's thoughts halted and her breath failed her. "What...how...?"
"Peacefully, it seems." He shook his head in disbelief. "You know as well as I that Grandmamma was a very old woman. Strong to last, she was. Nobody expected this. We're going home to mourn her immediately."
Unbidden tears began to trickle down Li Yuen Ming's face, and her mouth quivered. She looked up at her brother, only to see that his eyes were dry and his face exhibiting royally calm composure in the same manner it did in any other circumstance. "How can you be so cold?" she asked, and he was taken aback, visibly distressed by her accusation.
"I loved Grandmamma as dearly as you; you know it," he defended, then carefully lifted her chin and whispered in her ear, "Be strong, Ming. You are the queen. You must be strong."