The Treasure of Lei Fong Wu

Chapter Seventy-Eight

“Your Highness,” Captain Wu said nervously, eyeing Serenity for the first time through the lift door. “You came in . . . that thing?” “She’s better than . . . well, no, actually she’s about as good as she looks. But utterly reliable. Mostly. Look, she has a lot of wu.” Wu nodded once, out of respect. “She certainly has a sufficiency of wu. Your Highness is truly more brave and fearless than I had ever imagined,” he said diplomatically. Captain Campbell burst out laughing. He was pushing the medical litter that held River, still deep in sedation. Her self-appointed bodyguard, Fexive, walked next to the litter to guide it. He grinned as well. “Captain, I’ll have you know that the Firefly class was once the workhorse of the commercial light transport fleet. They are renowned for their durability and dependability.” “But not their aesthetics, I take it?” the Captain said as he directed a squad of his men to cover each of the local exits, and set up a perimeter, all without speaking a word. Even Campbell was impressed with the high degree of professionalism within the Guard. “Captain,” Johnny smiled, “I’d caution against mentioning that in front of the members of its crew. Especially the engineer. For health reasons,” he added. “He’s a big, mean sonuvabitch, is he?” “No, she’s just this side of petite and a wonderful cook. Nicest gal you’d ever want to meet, and knows more astromechanics than engineers thrice her age. But she can be a little . . . adamant when it comes to her ship. Serenity means a lot to these people, and she has come to mean a lot to me. Just appreciate her wu and keep quiet about her . . . idiosyncrasies, I beg you.” “Full of wu, got it,” he agreed. His eyes opened wide when they had approached close enough to beyond a protruding Marauder. “If that’s your engineer, I want a berth on this crew!” he said, shaking his head in admiration. “That’s Inara Serra,” Captain Campbell said. “She’s a Free Companion.” “Your engineer is a Companion?” he asked in disbelief. “This gets better and better!” “No, she’s . . . we’ll explain later,” Johnny said in frustration. “Your Highness,” Inara said, curtseying gracefully. She was wearing a steel-blue silk dress with subtle, dark green embroidery. She looked magnificent. As usual. “Inara,” Johnny said, feeling far more strange about his friends calling him that than the Imperial Guard. “We are victorious.” “So I have heard. Congratulations. May I beg a word in private with you?” “Uh . . . sure. Of course,” he said. He turned to Campbell. “Get River and our . . . other guest to the infirmary, and have the able-bodied men pack up. They’re to be relocated to the Flight Officer’s Quarters, two sections over. Just temporary, of course, but they’ll want a chance at a shower and some rest. Captain,” he added to Wu, “the same for your men. Let’s get them some decent quarters.” “Yes, your Highness,” Wu said, ordering his lieutenant to see to it. “And get a commissary opened – I’ve been awake less than a day, and I’m already tired of rations,” he concluded. While he was doing so, Johnny followed Inara off the path the others were taking – followed by his personal guard, who looked both nervous and interested by the such a beautiful woman speaking to their new charge. He held up a hand to signal them to stop out of earshot. “What’s up?” Johnny asked. “I need to know something. Are you serious in your intentions towards Nyan Nyan?” “Uh . . . well, yeah, of course. She’s . . . she’s . . .” he was at a loss. “Yes, she is, isn’t she?” Inara smiled knowingly. “I quite agree. I have a high opinion of her, and I like to think I do a pretty fair job of sizing people up. I’ve gotten to know her . . . surprisingly well since we woke her up. Johnny, if you don’t marry her you’re an idiot.” “Well, I don’t doubt I’m an idiot, but . . . well, I want to, but I don’t know how she really feels about the matter.” “Believe me, if you don’t do something along those lines pretty gorram soon, you stand an excellent chance of being sexually assaulted. Fair warning.” “Uh . . . OK, I s’pose I wouldn’t want to surrender up my virtue quite like that, but . . .” “Oh, shut up and propose to her. Believe me, there are other really, really good reasons why you should do so, but focus on the fact that she’s young, hot, and incredibly horny. You’ve got testicles; it shouldn’t be that much of a stretch. Everything else will fall into place if you focus on that,” she said, decisively. “Well, I did kinda stop off and pick something up,” he admitted sheepishly. “Went back to the vaults to get . . . this,” he said, taking out a small, elegantly lacquered box. “It belonged to her great, great grandmother. Part of the Yuanese Crown Jewels, or something,” he said, opening it up. “I got everyone else presents, too,” he added hurriedly. Within the box was a beautifully wrought gold ring with a gigantic stone. Even Inara was impressed. “Whoa!” she said. “Ai ya! You could choke a horse with that thing!” “Yeah, I thought it was pretty shiny, what with it being a family heirloom and all. You think she’ll like it?” “If she doesn’t, let me know. I’d marry you for that thing! That’s got to be, hmmm, at least five full carats. And then some,” she said admiringly. “Good. That’s a big relief. I was worried . . .” “. . . that she’d say ‘no’?” Inara finished. “You really are an idiot, aren’t you?” Inrara sighed impatiently. “Look, she’s got no one – no one else in the ‘verse. Everyone else she knows, with the exception of maybe a few of these guardsmen, is dead. The worlds she knew no longer exist. And here comes this handsome, studly, baseball-bat wielding superman who plucks her from the clutches of a bunch of fanatical killers and the most depraved madman in history . . . you think she’s going to want to just be friends? You’re a ruttin’ knight in shiny armor, moron. She wants you bad. You want her bad. She’s making herself presentable right now, so you got maybe an hour. But if you let one more moment pass than necessary, I’m going to get together Kaylee, River, myself, Zoe and Nyan Nyan, and we’re all going to charter a ship to Sihnon and hit Lower Prosperity street in the Eternal City, and we’re going to drag you along if we have to have Jayne hogtie you. You don’t know what Lower Prosperity street is, do you?” “Not a clue,” Johnny admitted. “It’s the largest collection of shoe stores in one location in the entire ruttin’ ‘verse.” Johnny looked pale. “You are a truly evil woman.” “I’ll do what I have to, Johnny. There’s a lot more at stake here than you realize. There’s another thing – no long engagement. You have to get married soon.” “Soon?” “Soon. Soonest. Trust me,” she pleaded. “This is all so sudden,” he said, distractedly. “You’ve called your Uncles? “They’ll be here within the hour. Why?” “Just trust me, you handsome idiot. You have to have everything in place before they can object. I’m trying to . . . well, I’m trying to save the ‘verse. You’ll understand someday.” “I’d wager pretty heavily that I won’t.” “Doesn’t matter. Nyan Nyan understands, and that’s the important thing. You just have to look pretty and sound convincing.” “Uh . . . I can do that,” he agreed, uneasily. “Perfect. That’s just what I want. It’s just like baseball: you’re at the plate, the pitch is coming. Don’t think. Just hit it.” “All right, you’ve made your point. Look, I’ve got some pretty pressing issues of my own to tend to before I see her, so . . .” “Be gone,” agreed Inara. “I’m done with you. Take care of your business. Fast.” “I feel so used,” he said dreamily as he stumbled after the last of the Guardsmen, towards Serenity. “Men are so stupid sometimes,” Inara said to herself, rolling her eyes.

*

*

*

“Sir! You stand relieved!” the young lieutenant said, saluting General Lei smartly. He looked splendid in his soft gold longcoat. All around him other Guardsmen dressed as he was were busy securing consoles and helping bring the Sun Tzu back to life. The General returned the salute, then shook the man’s hand vigorously. “Thank you, Lieutenant! We’ve done what we could to restore the Bridge to function, but after such a long time . . . you have any experience in such things?” “Sir! I was a deck officer on the cruiser Fan Du for two years. That’s why I was chosen for this assignment. My men are likewise familiar with ships of the line.” “Excellent. Then here are your orders: first, re-establish the comm. array, especially a cortex connection – it won’t be easy under these electromagnetic conditions, but we can boost our power quite a bit. But the important thing is to establish enough of a link to send a wave to this combination,” he said, handing him a flexi. “When you do that, I want you to order him to rendezvous with us here, where he will transfer his flag to the Sun Tzu and take command. Instruct him to prepare as many repair crews as possible – we have a long way to go before this ship is mobile, not to mention in fighting trim. Complete the repairs to the internal scanners – we still have people out there. I want you to then switch over the engines from reactors one and two to reactors five and six and take one and two off-line for repair. They have over a century of maintenance to catch on. And direct at least two repair crews to the main batteries – I hate sitting here without a credible weapon. Are we clear?” “Sir! Establish communications, send a wave to this man instructing him to rendezvous, transfer flag, and take command. Complete the repairs to the internal sensors. Take reactors one and two off line and replace them with five and six. Oversee repairs. Re-establish the main batteries.” “Outstanding,” agreed the General, smiling. “We’ve got big plans for this boat, son. Don’t let me down.” “Sir! The Imperial Guard is not in the habit of not accomplishing its orders, Sir!” “I know, Lieutenant. That is why my Uncle and I have every confidence in your ability to carry this out without our supervision. We’ll be on Serenity, if you need further orders.” “Yes, sir!” “I stand relieved, Lieutenant.” “Are you ready yet?” Master Lei complained impatiently. “I could have expired of old age by the time you got all of that out. You army people have no concept of time,” he sneered. “That’s enough, old man. We won the ruttin’ war, I’m gonna make damn sure we can secure the peace. Once the Admiral takes over here, the Sun Tzu will be spaceworthy and warworthy in short order. Then we can begin to recapture what we lost, get our revenge . . .” “Oh, stuff it,” Master Lei dismissed. “We haven’t made any decisions, yet.” “I’ve got the ‘verse’s most powerful warship and a hold full of atomics,” the General said gleefully. “Hell if I won’t plan to set them on the Alliance! Gorram purplebellies will never expect it!” “As I said, we have much to discuss. And talk of attacking the Alliance seems foolish, when we have yet to make this ship move under power. Let us not sell the foal before the mare has been brought to stud.” “Fine, sure, whatever,” General Lei said dismissively. “I got my treasure. Speaking of which, want to bring along our illustrious electronic ancestor?” “No need,” Master Lei said. “Now that we have full power, he can manifest holographically nearly anywhere in the ship. Even Serenity, through that connection we made. He won’t be pretty, considering their equipment, but . . . ” “Nice trick,” grunted the General. “Is he going to join us, then?” A shimmer began a few feet away from them both, and the archaic apparition of Lei Fong Wu materialized. “Wouldn’t miss it for the worlds,” the hologram assured him, then faded away. “Shiny,” the General grunted again. Come along, then, Heavenly Master. Or do I have to carry your scrawny ass?” “Keep it up, Pudgy,” the old monk growled. “I have ways of dealing with the likes of you.” “Enough grumbling! Do you realize what kind of party we’re missing on Serenity?” A sudden thought occurred to him. “Lieutenant! Where might I find any stores of wine that may have survived?” “Um . . . Sir, I believe that there is an VIP Dining Room about two decks down. Should have a wine stock.” “Have two of your huskiest boys nip down there and get a couple of cases of sparkling wine down to Serenity. I think everyone has earned it – stuck up here with you, I damn sure know I’ve earned it.” “I agree,” Master Lei sighed. “We’ve all been through a lot, and not all of us have come through it. It has been a wondrous adventure, and we are due a celebration. Wine would be appropriate. Wine would be good. Wine would be excellent. And then we can tend to our dead. Lieutenant, please let us know when you have an answer from the Admiral.” “Yes, Heavenly Master,” the man said with a deep, reverent bow. “Thank you. Ready to go, Junior?” “More than ready! A couple of days on repair, then off to our base to crew this behemoth, and then . . .” he trailed off dreamily as they left the Bridge for the first time in two days. “We can take back our worlds.” “I didn’t leave my monastery and go through everything I did for the last few months so that you could rain atomic hellfire down on the Alliance in an impotent display of revenge.” “A couple of megatons won’t be impotent,” the General reminded. “And there’re biologics, chemicals, robotics, and the big lasers, and—” “It would be criminal, and you know it. Use your head, boy. You lost the last war, and that was when you had bases and allies. Now the Alliance holds sway everywhere, and isn’t distracted. You go after the military and they won’t have anything better to do than come down on you hard.” “Let them come!” the General said jovially. “You are an idiot. Thank our ancestors you were never Emperor. You’re a talented tactician and a good strategist, but you lack . . . vision.” “I see fine,” growled the General. “I lost my honor in the War, Old Man. This is my chance to redeem it.” He stabbed the lift call button viciously. “There is more than one way to restore your honor,” Master Lei said, quietly. “Perhaps it can be done without the deaths of thousands – millions?” “Well . . . maybe,” the General said, grudgingly. “I’m open to suggestions.” “That’s the smartest thing you’ve said in two days,” Master Lei said. “Let’s have our party, get some rest, and return to the subject when our hangovers clear. Plenty of time to decide our next course of action. Me,” he said with an unabashed grin, “I want to meet this young woman Chin Yi is so enamored of.” “I’m not sure how well I like him getting entangled with some hundred year old frozen tart,” grumbled the General. “Plenty of good women of the Thousand Families that would walk naked through a reactor for the chance to marry him. Especially now. A union that might be of political use would be wise.” “Bah! Let the boy find love on his own. You certainly did.” The thought of Madame Lei immediately softened the General’s demeanor. “Yes, I suppose I did. Still, we should move cautiously about this. He may not be as lucky as I was.” “Chin Yi will make his mistakes, just as you made yours,” chided the old man. “Here’s our lift. Do me a favor and meditate on the situation for the duration of our ride.” “Why? You wish me to come up with a suitable alternative?” “No, I want you to shut the hell up. We might be kin, but that doesn’t mean you aren’t irritating as hell.” “The feeling is mutual, you mystical old fraud.” The two got on the large lift and found seats near each other in silence. The doors closed and the capsule started zooming through the bowels of the ship. “Nothing like family, is there?” Master Lei said, a moment later. “Nothing like family,” agreed the General with a chuckle.

*

*

*

Shan Yu had a certain sense of elation as he felt the pod clear the Sun Tzu and begin its descent. Against all odds . . . he had escaped again! Death had once more passed him by, despite being in a world full of foes. He felt as if he had defeated the Guardian of the Dead himself by getting past Book. Of all the strange reactions to torture, the odd Shepherd had presented him with the strangest. He was almost sorry he had left his books behind – he needed to reflect on the meat of their conversation, write about it. It would make a wonderful addition to his works –- and perhaps form the basis for a new book. The offer had, indeed, been gracious under the circumstances. But Shan Yu knew that he was destined for greater things than a life of quiet obscurity. Now he felt free, in a ‘verse that did not know him any more. He was free to go where he wanted, do what he wanted, and prepare for his return in grand style. He would take the throne himself, this time. In his original coup, there had been good and valid reasons to remain a mere Warlord, but in his new regime he did not see a compelling reason why he shouldn’t get the title along with the position. The Rectification of Names, after all. He would also build a grander palace. The Imperial Palace in Chang’an on Yuan had been built in an earlier age. He wanted something at least twice as big as Londinium’s Churchill Palace, or Versailles on Merovingia. He would show them the meaning of the word ‘grand’! But first things first. He would have to build an army, of course, but that shouldn’t prove difficult. If his torture victims were to be believed, the recent war had left the Rim filled with discouraged veterans. Recruiting an army would be no problem. Nor equipping one. The Sun Tzu had contained the lion’s share of his arsenal, it was true, but he had been paranoid enough to pre-position arms and supplies, in case of civil war, invasion, or if he wanted to start an insurgency after a coup. There were caches on the old Imperial planets, of course, and then some others out in the rim, the wild frontier planets like Boros, Persephone, Shadow – no, Shadow had been bombed into ruins in the war, he reminded himself – still, it might make a good base of operations . . . His reverie was broken by the pod’s console, which started counting down to the inflatable heat-shield deployment. Three, two, one . . . there was a woosh and a thunk as the triple carbon cloth balloons inflated, tripling the surface area of the pod. Only there wasn’t the sudden drag on the pod he expected in the stratosphere. Concerned, he carefully examined the pod’s rudimentary sensors, and with a growing sense of sickening horror he checked them again. It was gone. The atmo was gone from this world. All of it. He peered out of the tiny window at the sliver of moon he could see – growing larger by the moment – and with a start he realized that there was no indistinct smear of haze near the horizon that indicated atmo on a terraformed world. He looked more carefully. The cities he saw on the dayside of the terminator seemed normal enough, but on the night side, where he would expect to see dots of light indicating urban areas, he saw only darkness. And with a sense of dread he realized for the first time that there was no tell-tale weather patterns below him. Not a cloud in the sky. Something had killed Hecate. It was a dead world. And now he was in dire peril. The pod he was in was a luxury model, compared to regular lifecraft. It had amenities that normal pods lacked, as befitted his station. But it was still, essentially, a short-term lifesaving measure, not a true ship. It had engines, of course, to launch it and to help brake it into a soft landing – but only once it had been slowed by aerobraking through atmo. Oh, it could be programmed for an airless drop, but he would have had to started braking much sooner than this. As it was, he could go at full burn and still be going far too fast when his limited supply of fuel ran out. Nor could he hope to achieve orbit again at this altitude. He was dead. There was no hope. The pod had been programmed for a descent onto what he hoped was still a wilderness area on Hecate – the Hecate the computer knew from over a hundred years ago. This Hecate was far less welcoming. Expecting an atmo landing, standard programming for a lifepod dictated that the hatch’s explosive bolts would fire upon landing to get oxygen to a wounded crew as soon as possible. Only when his pod landed, he would have maybe two minutes of horrific explosive decompression to enjoy before his eyeballs froze, his lungs gave out, and blood was sucked from every orifice and pore. It was an awful death, he knew. He had watched hundreds endure For a few stark moments he went completely, hysterically mad. When he realized he had less than eleven minutes to live, he stopped his rage; it was impractical, not to mention undignified. He had precious few moments in which to order his life. He took them. First was preparing for his demise. He had no desire to die of decompression, explosive or otherwise. He would end his life himself, moments before impact. Then there was the matter of Shepherd Book, the agent of his death . . . On the back of the pod’s survival manual he began writing a letter, one he hoped he could finish. Even with the decompression, he was sure that it would survive the crash. When they sent search parties for him they would find it.

Dear Shepherd Book: I know now, too late, how you have used my own evil intentions against me, and for your sake I will have you know that I appreciate the literary irony implicit in this death, even as I curse you for it. I know that had I taken you up on your proposal I would now be alive, and I admit that I have mixed feelings about that. You are an honorable man, and would have held true to your agreement. I am not, and would have escaped at the earliest opportunity. I played my cards too well, it seems, for that to happen now. Instead I will have an ignoble death on a dead world, a world you knew was dead, and let me “escape” to anyway. For shame, Shepherd. That was hardly a Christian thing to do. To you I offer congratulations, but also a curse: as I die alone, may you die painfully, with the bodies of all you love strewn about you in a bloody mass. Let that be the last, hopeless thing you see before you go to your pearly-gated heaven. May you suffer the tortures of the damned before you pass, painfully. As for me? I will not be subject to cruel Fate even in my final moments. I will end my life with dignity before this pod crashes, a dignity my curse will deny to you. I shall not suffer. You shall. As I go to embrace Death, an old friend and companion, I leave to you Pain.

His Excellencey, Shan Yu Imperial Warlord of Yuan Protector of Wuhan and Ti’en Overlord of Xiao

“Take that, you crafty bastard,” he said through gritted teeth as he signed it with a florish. He glanced at the chronometer, and tried not to see the moon’s surface that now filled the entirety of the tiny window. Two minutes left. He would not take chances. He would do it now. He took a deep breath and steadied himself before he picked up the revolver that still sat in his lap. He looked at the weapon, forged for a hopeless cause and a bloody conflict, and he reflected a few seconds on the appropriate nature of his choice. There were other guns in the storage locker, but it would take too long to find them and their ammunition. Besides, this one had a certain romantic, poetic element to it that he cherished. It was a good weapon. This was a good death. He put the gun to the side of his head, closed his eyes, took a final breath, and pulled the trigger. The deafening explosion filled the pod, as well the smell of gunpowder, but there was no bullet – just blood and a horrible mass of powder burns. A misfire – ignore the pain and continue, he decided. He was man enough to do that. Indeed, make it a double, just to make sure. He put the pistol to his other temple and forced himself to pull the trigger twice in quick succession. More pain, more smoke, more blood – but no bullets. His long white hair was singed and smoldering. His face was one large bloody wound. But his brain, his brain was still very much intact. Despite the pain he forced himself to open the revolver and check each chamber. The powder was still there, but the pistol balls were missing. He had faced down Book with an empty gun. A gun Book knew was empty . . . and he had let him go, anyway. “You cruel son of a bitch,” Shan Yu gasped through the choking fumes. “I hope you burn in your hell for all of eternity,” he pronounced. Then the ground rushed up to meet him, the hatch exploded open, and the stench of gunpowder and brimstone and burning hair was instantly cleansed by eternal vacuum. Shan Yu’s body was broken in the crash, his legs and arms broken, his spine twisted. He spent the next minute and a half wordlessly cursing the Shepherd as he looked up through petrified treetops through frozen eyeballs at the nakedness of the Black and felt every organ in his body suddenly expand to twice its normal size. On the planet of the dead, Shan Yu’s tainted soul went to hell. It was a surprisingly short trip.

*

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* The tiny security compartment on the Hammer Group’s shuttle was near to the cockpit, so that captured fugitives could be under the watchful eye of the crew. It was a retro-fitted storage room that belied easy escape: the bars were a tungsten-carbon composite material that could not be bent, scored, cut, or react with strong acids or bases; the ventilation ducts were tiny slits that the most industrious midget could never have crawled through; the single tiny porthole was well armored; and the sanitary facilities were . . . Spartan. The three fugitives sat knee-to-knee on the steel benches, their hands bound behind them in transit. They were silent and sullen, each reflecting on the dire situation that they had lucked into. There had been a few grunted recriminations, and an abortive attempt to figure a way to disable the ship before launch, but when it became clear that the shuttle was free of the Sun Tzu and now hurtling across the Black towards the frigate that talk lapsed as the three sank into quiet introspection. Zoe was thinking of escape, plotting when the most opportune moment to escape her bonds, overpower her captors, wrest control of the ship away from them, and return to the Sun Tzu, Serenity, and her husband. The highly professional way that the Hammer Group men had treated them, however, indicated that security would likely not be lax enough to provide much in the way of opportunity. Simon stared at a spot on the floor, glowering. He had some small comfort in the knowledge that despite Martel’s wild ideas about his importance to the Alliance and their lackeys, he was not the one they really wanted. His sister was, and she was in about the safest place in the ‘verse right now. The downside was he knew that she would come after him, no matter what the danger. River could be quite stubborn at times, and the countless invasions of her mid-brain region had done little to improve that trait. Jayne’s thoughts were a mystery. He eyed the men outside the cell with a mixture of nervousness and hope. He had tried to engage them in conversation a few times, but they had orders not to communicate with the prisoners, and he quickly lost interest. Beyond that, his thoughts were his own . . . until he looked up at Zoe and Simon and their serious expressions, and chose to speak. It seemed the right thing to do. He cleared his throat, and then in a low voice he commented, “Y’know, in retrospect, maybe it wasn’t such a good idea to throw that last dumpling.” Zoe and Simon glared at him, and he was glad for a moment that they were bound. Several uncomfortable minutes of silence passed while they stared at him. Finally Simon spoke up, bitterly. “Gee. Y’think?”