The Queen's Honor Guard
by Nyohah

IV.

In a dank and gloomy cave, Shang Tsung knelt, wishing that, among other things, the cave wasn't quite so dank and gloomy. Or that it wasn't it a cave at all. He preferred palaces, himself, but he wasn't the master.

The master lay on his pallet, lazily pointing a sharp, gold-covered finger at the ceiling. Standing on one side of him, on the dais, was Shao Kahn. Hunched on the other side of him, on the floor, was the one they called succubus, an old witch, if she could even be called a witch anymore. Tsung had her powers. She didn't much like him. He didn't much care.

*You have not done as you promised,* the demon master said. The witch cackled.

Tsung rolled his eyes at the floor, which he knew the demon couldn't see, and managed to refrain from sighing, which he knew the demon would hear. "It is not my fault, Master, that the Jedi proved to be an insufficient foe for the Mandalorians. I had every assurance that they could match anything—"

"We are not concerned about the Mandalorians," Kahn interrupted. "They were sufficiently distracted by your plot, and are no longer any concern of mine."

"Of yours?" Tsung asked. "What about mine? What about our master's?" He turned his attention back to the demon. "We would be much better off if they were all gone. Palpatine promised that they would all be gone."

"You promised Palpatine that the Mandalorians would take care of his problem as well as the Jedi took care of ours," Kahn said. "He is not happy."

"Palpatine?" Tsung asked. "What does he matter? He can't get to us, and if he could, he couldn't hurt us anyway."

"He will not be willing to allow us into his space again," Kahn said. "We had all hoped for more space."

"Let's finish up with the space we have before we go hunting for more. And you tell Palpatine, that he ought to be on his hands and knees thanking me—"

The witch cackled again. Tsung was beginning to be annoyed.

"You," Kahn said, "should be on your hands and knees thanking Palpatine for what he's accomplished. And Vendetta. They arranged everything."

"I agree that they were very discreet in arranging to have reports of clones on either side get to the other and stir everything up, but have we all forgotten that this was all my idea? They wouldn't have done anything if it weren't for me!"

The witch shrieked with laughter.

"Palpatine had more to do with this than you," Kahn said. "He got his government to declare war for next to nothing. He even sent one his strongest followers—his own apprentice—to kill that mind-witch, the queen's handmaiden. No one but a strong Jedi with a strong mind could have gotten close enough to her."

"But it was my idea," Tsung whined. "The clones idea was brilliant!"

"Palpatine does not agree," wheezed the witch, grinning. "And neither do I. I think you ought to get your own ideas."

"It was my idea!" Tsung shouted at her.

"Clones," she muttered, and spat on the ground.

"Palpatine," said Kahn, "wanted the slaughter of the Mandalorians to be equaled by the slaughter of the Jedi. Many fewer Jedi were killed than the troops he intended to use on his side. He's down allies and not down enemies. I'm sure you see the problem."

Tsung gritted his teeth. "That is hardly my fault. The plan fell apart on his end. Surely he was supposed to take care of one of his own generals and that renegade Jedi. Everything I did was perfect."

"Your plan was not perfect," Kahn said. "The master and I are agreed. Your youth will not be restored. We see no cause for reward."

The witch laughed. Tsung shivered.

The master turned his head at last, looking Tsung straight in the eyes.

*Lucky for you,* the demon said, *the Mandalorian threat has been neutralized.*

Tsung let out his breath. "Edenia is ours. At last."

*It will be.*

The Queen's Honor Guard had stared and argued over the stars, or rather, over one star. Or even more accurately, over a planet. It was a funny argument, though, Ming thought, since they all seemed to be arguing the same point. It wasn't Viri. They were in the wrong spot.

After her husband felt they had wasted enough time, he ordered Cai Yue to make a portal to Edenia, and she could tell from the way he swallowed afterward that he had refrained from adding the uncalled-for, and possibly untrue, barb: if you know where it is.

Cai Yue was tired, more tired than any of them save Yen Sa, and they were all tired. Tired from the fight, but mostly tired from the loss. Adrenaline and fear had worn off, and they were stuck with considerably more heavy dread and sorrow, weight that she could feel in the pit of her stomach. She felt sorry for him, holding onto his chair to keep himself on his feet as he created the portal.

It wasn't Viri. Yen Sa spouted astronomical statistics that no one else understood.

At least Kei Sa's baby didn't cry. Their nerves couldn't have handled the noise, and none of them were in any shape to calm an infant. She was worried for Quy Ling, though. He didn't cry either, just held Ching Sa and stared at the letters. He was never the sort who would show his emotions in public. She hoped once they landed and he was alone that he would allow himself to grieve.

She had a letter, too. The way Quy Ling was looking at them, she was surprised he gave it to her. She wasn't sure he would ever open his.

It wasn't Viri.

Edenia was right where it was supposed to be. Their landing was rough. The pilot of the ship they were on wasn't nearly as good as Lieutenant Nai had been. He had always landed the ship like she was taught to set her teacup down.

If he had known how to fight in a ship, and if the ship had had weapons, he would have destroyed everyone. He was a good shot, and experienced. But they'd lost their advantage when they had left the ground.

They had lost their advantage when the Vyrenchi had left.

And Viri was there? But not Mandalore?

It wasn't Viri.

Because the Vyrenchi had left. They'd been able to leave, to go home, to help.

It wasn't Viri. It couldn't be Viri.

Her brother was there when they got off the ship into the heat. Her brother, his wife, their new-born daughter (pale like her mother), her child.

Her brother was there, and she saw his first words on his face before he spoke.

It was Viri.

Three hours after the Mandalorians arrived in their home galaxy, Li Wei Yong sat with his wife in an Edenian crystal-garden, nearly unable to breathe between the heat and the grief.

Three hours before they had been fleeing for their lives. It seemed like that was an entirely different life that Wei Yong had. That was when he was General of the Armies of Mandalore.

Mandalore had been gone for almost an entire day. According to the Edenians, Shao Kahn had launched an attack on Viri to gather all the Vyrenchi to their home planet. He then launched a swift, simultaneous attack against Mandalore. With the bulk of the Mandalorian army and all of the honor guard far from home, Mandalore was defenseless. It fell within an hour, and now existed as only another fragment of Kahn's domain, Outworld. Skirmishes still broke out on Viri from time to time, just enough to keep them paranoid.

Yuen Jer Rod contained his grief with resolute self-control , as befit a leader. His sister didn't.

Well, Wei Yong thought, looking at her seated form, her grief was fairly well contained, but she wasn't under control. She was crushed, and he didn't mean that in the clichéd way. This was beyond cliché. She had been thrown into such a crevasse by the news that he wasn't sure he could even see her anymore.

She wasn't having any sort of fit. He'd heard of people having fits before—catatonia, he thought it was called. Ming wasn't. He knew she could hear him, and he knew she could see him. She just wouldn't respond.

Emperor Yuen had told them the news as gently as he could, but no amount of tact could have made the news any gentler. Ming had let her hair down immediately as she walked to the palace, emerging from her room only after she had been brought a simple, entirely white dress and a white embroidered veil to wear. She had then walked straight past her son without acknowledging him.

Sindel and Wei Yong had stared in shock at each other. Sindel, always a quick thinker, had nodded at Wei Yong to follow Ming and hurriedly placed Kitana (her infant girl whose name reminded Wei Yong of swords and cats) on a chair and picked up Nei Jen, trying to distract him before he realized what had happened. The boy was also quick, though, and had understood and begun to cry. Wei Yong was torn between following Ming like Sindel had told him to and taking the child, but when Sindel shushed the boy almost without effort, he realized that he probably found his sitter much more comforting than his parents after their long absence.

When he got to the garden, Ming was sitting with a rod-straight back, presumably crying silently under her veil. He sat next to her, unsure what to do.

"Ming," he said. She didn't respond. "Ming, I'm here." Still no response. He was afraid to touch her, and he didn't know why.

He sighed. "Ming, it's awful, I know, but—"

You have to keep it together; you have a people to lead? That reason no longer worked.

"Ming, you have a child who needs to see you. He hasn't seen his parents in more than a year..."

But if that were true, if Nei Jen was more important than anything else, he should be with his son.

"Ming, our world is gone, and our people are gone, but...we have to keep fighting. We can't surrender or they'll have won."

And now he sounded like an insane general. Besides, which, the Mandalorians had already lost. There was nothing left to fight for.

He was a general without an army. She was a queen without a people. They'd been defined by their positions by so long, that without them...

He felt paper-thin.

He stopped talking. The silence thickened in the heat. Wei Yong knew he had to do something; Ming had to hear something, but he couldn't think of what to say. He let his breath out in relief when Yuen Jer Rod entered the garden. He always knew what to say.

Jer Rod knelt down in front of Ming. "I know this is the hardest of news, sister, but you must find it within yourself to be strong. You must grieve. I know you must, and I also grieve. But you must be strong. Show your strength for the good of the Mandalorian people. You are still the leader."

Ming began to sob.

Wei Yong put his face in his hands and sighed.

Jer Rod seemed to be lost, for once. He stood and began to pace the garden.

At least his shoes were hard, so the footsteps kept the silence at bay.

Listening to Jer Rod's footsteps as he was, he heard the others approaching from farther away than he thought he was capable of. He was also impressed by his ability to pick out three entirely separate gaits.

Sindel arrived in the entrance to the garden, breathing hard and looking determined. She looked back to the hall behind her and nodded. Rah Cai Yue stepped hesitantly beside her, his slightly raised eyebrow giving him a lost look. He sniffed and wiped his nose. Hua Quy Ling stepped behind him, still looking at the letters he held in his hand, his steps slow and forced.

Cai Yue saw Ming and lunged forward. He sat down beside her and grabbed her hands, shaking them a little.

"Ming?"

She didn't answer him either.

"Ming, it's not your fault," said Cai Yue, and Wei Yong felt instantly stupid. That's what he should have said. Wasn't it obvious?

"Ming, you didn't know," Cai Yue continued. "It's not your fault. It's terrible, and it hurts, I know how much it hurts. We all know how much it hurts. But it's not your fault. It's nobody's fault but Evil's."

She turned her head to look at him, and Wei Yong felt as though someone had taken a sword to the paper he'd become.

"Not my fault?" she said, her voice low and hard, "How is it not my fault?"

"We were tricked, Ming. We were all tricked."

"No, it was my fault if it was anyone's. I'm the one who kept us there. I'm the one who got us into that war, and how many people died?"

Cai Yue shook his head. "This was—we were tricked. The clones thing? It had to have been planned; Tascilo was right—"

"How many people, Cai Yue?" she said, much louder. "How many?"

"A-a couple hundred, Ming, but it's not—"

"That's how many colonists, Cai Yue." She paused. "How many worlds?" she asked, her voice suddenly high and trembling.

"Ming, it's not—"

"It's not all over, my queen," Hua Quy Ling interrupted.

"Close enough," she said.

"No," he said. "And we have not lost all hope yet."

"Hope?" She looked up at him. "What about hope? We've lost Mandalore."

"And faith," Quy continued.

"Faith," Ming repeated without inflection.

"Yes." He looked down at the letters in his hand and back up. "We weren't aboard the Templar when it was destroyed. Was there a real reason for that?"

"It was full," Ming said.

"We would have fit, had we boarded," he said. "My child was not aboard the Templar. Was there a real reason for that?"

"You had letters—"

"Letters that needed to be delivered in the middle of a firefight?"

Ming lowered her head again.

"Kei Sa would want us to have faith," Quy continued more softly, rubbing the letter with his thumb. "She knew."

For the first time, Wei Yong noticed that he had opened it.

"What?" said Ming.

"Not precisely," Quy said. "But she knew."

He turned to leave, then turned back.

"Read your letter, my queen."

He left. Cai Yue stood and after a last look at Ming, followed him. Sindel smiled slightly, then took her husband's arm and let him lead her out of the garden.

Wei Yong turned to Ming and reached out to touch her shoulder. She stood up.

"It's hot out here," she said. "I'm going to go read my letter."

He wondered how it was he could be outside and need to go find fresh air.