The Treasure of lei Fong Wu

Chapter Eighty-Two

Mal sat on the edge of the catwalk overlooking the cargo bay, his legs hanging over the side, his coat hung on the rail, a bottle in his hand, watching the festivities. The announcement that Shan Yu was confirmed dead had hit the celebration like kerosene on a campfire, and the resulting outpouring of emotion was dangerously close to exhausting the liquor supply. Mal wasn’t worried. He had his own private stash to fall back on. Captain’s prerogative. Rumors were rampant about the particulars of how and when, but it was widely known that Shepherd Book was credited with the Tyrant’s demise. He refused to speak about it, apart from confirming the announcement, and after he had blessed the union of the happy couple he had retired to the infirmary for a generous pain killer and a quick check-up from the Imperial’s medic. Everyone else traded speculations and made toast after toast to the end of the Tyrant of Yuan. Mal had been glad to drink to that. Shan Yu was about as nasty a piece of work as he had met in a long and disreputable career. But he spared the dictator only a single toast, reserving the rest for his newfound success. He had a mild buzz, he knew, compounded by lack of sleep and sheer physical exhaustion, but every time he glanced at the big pile of platinum he felt like he could run a mile and dance a jig without breaking a sweat. It felt good to be rich. For the first time since before the War, he didn’t have to worry about where his next meal was coming from, or, for that matter, how he was going to fuel his ship and pay his crew. Not that he really worried about the last item, now. Compared to the pile of cash they all had, their annual pay was a pittance. Perhaps he should start charging them passage, he mused idly. Inara came out of her shuttle and smiled when she saw him. He had sought out the catwalk because he wanted to be alone with his thoughts, but suddenly he welcomed the company. “Have a seat, Ambassador,” he said, smiling. “Party’s starting to break up, but plenty of time for one more drink,” he said, offering her the bottle. Inara sat down, having changed out of her formal gown into something a little more casual and a lot more comfortable, but no less alluring. She dangled her legs over the side and took the bottle with a grateful sigh. “Thanks,” she said, as she handed it back and wiped the residue carefully from her lips with the hem of her skirt. “I needed that. I feel like I just negotiated a treaty.” “You wouldn’t be far wrong,” Mal agreed. “Handled a difficult situation, you did, and no one’s shootin’ or fightin’ about the result. Even got General Lei on board. That ain’t small beer.” “Thank you, Mal. So how about you?” she asked, after a moment’s reflection. “How does it feel to be a rich man?” “Well,” Mal said, grinning self-consciously, “I suppose it feels all right. Haven’t had a chance to spend none yet, so it ain’t like the full realization has hit me yet. But so far, it ain’t so bad. Beats a poke in the eye with a pointed stick.” “Was it worth it?” she asked. “The running around, the fighting, the . . . getting captured?” “I’ve had worse times,” Mal admitted. “None of Serenity’s folk got killed, and only Book got hurt. Kinda clutched about him. Shan Yu . . . closest thing to the Devil, Himself, an’ Book went toe-to-toe with him.” “And survived,” Inara added, impressed. “Man could preach a whore into heaven, looks like,” he said, absently. Realizing his faux pas immediately, he demurred and tried to turn it. “Not that you’d need any help in that, mind. I figure you get big points for getting those two hitched.” Inara let the unintentional jibe pass. “They do look happy, don’t they?” “They surely do. Wonder how long it’ll last?” “If my womanly instincts are correct, I predict a long, happy, and prosperous marriage,” she declared, retrieving the bottle again. “So . . . you think I’ve done a worthy enough deed to give you back that butterknife?” he asked, nonchalantly. Inara considered. “I don’t know. Have you?” “I thought you were supposed to decide.” “Not . . . quite. If you’re going to misappropriate a cultural practice, at least research it a little first. The custom goes that a woman gives a man a blade and then when HE has determined that he has done a worthy deed, he offers the blade back. If she isn’t suitably impressed, she returns it. Usually it’s a sign of overt rejection if she’s done that – and rare. But the man can try again, if he wants to risk the humiliation of a second rejection. If the woman accepts it . . . well, it’s a silly custom, really. Archaic. So,” she asked, nonchalantly, “have you done a worthy enough deed? Theoretically, I mean?” “Let me think on it,” Mal decided. “Done lots o’ deeds lately. Might could be a worthy ‘un in there someplace.” “Mmmmm. You do that,” she said with a sly chuckle. “You might have to get used to such social niceties. That much money is going to put you in the genteel class whether you wish it or not. But I hope your new-found wealth doesn’t change you too much. Be a shame to loose all of that roguish charm you’ve cultivated all these years.” “Oh, I dunno,” Mal said. “I think being a gentleman of leisure might could provide some distraction. Besides, women only go for that ‘roguish charm’ thing until the check comes an’ you gotta explain how you left your wallet in your other ship.” “Never thought you’d be worrying about how to impress the ladies,” Inara said with nervous humor. “Never thought I’d have a chance to. Old fella like me, though . . . well, if I’m gonna ever settle down, might have to think about it. Not like I can shine like some o’ your young bucks. A little cashy bait might help. Been a little dry, of late.” “Mal! You surprise me! I thought the Black was too much a part of you to settle down.” “Don’t know,” Mal admitted. “I’m not as young as I used to be, and a fella has to think about retirement, if he ain’t planned on an early demise. The Black ain’t goin’ no where. Big steamin’ pile o’ money changes things, your perspective not the least.” “So . . . you really are considering settling down?” Inara asked, trying desperately to keep her tone light and non-committal. “Might could,” Mal agreed, studiously not looking at her. She swallowed. “Any notion of where?” “Oh, one place is as good as another, I s’pose. Not the Core, of course. Don’t think they’re ready for me in overly civilized parts. Maybe Persephone, possibly Boros. One of the frontier moons, maybe – big fish in a small pond has an appeal.” “Persephone is nice,” agreed Inara absently. “Pond isn’t too big, good food, excellent cultural resources . . . plenty of young skirts eager to be someone’s Missus . . .” “An’ a whole lotta rich dandies walkin’ around with swords,” Mal finished. “I’ve always considered myself more of a pistols-at-dawn fella.” “Well . . . one place is as good as another. Be a shame to give up my shuttle, though. I’ve gotten . . . used to it. All of my stuff is there.” “Thought you planned on leavin’ Serenity, anyway?” Mal asked, trying to hide the intrigue in his voice. “That I did,” Inara admitted. “Still do . . . I almost left at New Melbourne, remember?” “Yeah,” Mal said, quietly. “And again at Avalon.” “I’m sure . . . something will suggest itself,” she said, obviously trying to be brave about her personal insecurity. “You could always teach art, y’know, or history. Or fencing,” he added. “Not much call for those out on the Rim,” she pointed out. “Besides, I’m a Companion.” “Not much call for those out on the Rim, either,” Mal pointed out. “I know,” Inara said with a sigh. “In the last year I’ve made a quarter of what I would have made on Sihnon. Maybe less. Of course, my expenses are lower, too. I’ll make do. Plenty of rich young bucks out there, and more every day. Magistrates, company men, wildcat entrepreneurs, terraformer aristocrats, the occasional Alliance officer – senior, of course—” “Of course,” agreed Mal, swallowing. “I’m sure I’ll get by.” “Yeah,” Mal said, after a lengthy pause. “No doubt you will.” “You know, Mal,” she said in a low voice, as if she were revealing something she had kept hidden. “I’ve been thinking. I’ve always liked—” “Captain?” called Colonel Campbell from the bottom of the stairs. “You have a moment?” Mal looked at Inara, really looked at her, and sighed. “Yeah, Sir Nathaniel.” “We’re just chatting,” Inara said, a little embarrassed. “Then I hope I do not intrude. But I’ve just spoken to Captain Wu, the Captain of the Guard. He has a few things you . . . may be interested in,” Campbell finished as he came to the top of the stairs. “Let’s have it,” Mal said with a sigh. He had been so close . . . “First off, it will take a few days for the Sun Tzu’s main engines to get up and running. We’ve made contact with the Emperor’s Revenge, and they are en route at full speed. Admiral Cho Hsu Bei will take command the moment he’s aboard, and he’s bringing several experienced repair crews with him. Within a week we should be fully operational.” “Well ain’t that a good thing,” Mal agreed. “There’s more. I had Captain Wu detail a few dozen men to scour the lower decks. The internal sensors are only working at 34% of capacity, and they have yet to register Ms. Washburn, Mr. Cobb, and Dr. Tam. So I figured a deck-by-deck search was in order. Captain Wu was obligatory, as it dovetailed nicely with his Tiger hunting operations.” “And I take it you ain’t tellin’ me all o’ this because they got found and are on their way back,” Mal said, his heart sinking. “Indeed. I just received word that a patrol discovered the remains of your mule.” “ ‘Remains’?” Mal asked, getting to his feet. “Not likin’ the way that fits in my ear.” “Yes. Someone shot it up in a most . . . thorough manner. And a cache of weapons that sounded familiar, including a large black revolver and a certain dog-leg shotgun . . .” “Zoe!” Mal declared. “Where are they? Injured?” he asked, hurriedly. “Dead?” he asked, more slowly. Inara got to her feet as well. “We found no bodies, and just a little blood.” “The White Tigers?” Inara asked, her eyes wide. “I don’t think so, no. There weren’t any shell casings in evidence. I can’t imagine Zoe and Jayne laying down arms like that against Tigers.” “Me neither,” agreed Mal, rubbing the back of his neck. “The mule was discovered close to one of the aft shuttle bays. I believe it is where one of the Hammer Group’s shuttles set down.” “That would make sense – though I figgered that Martel fella to be more honorable than that. I let him an’ his go, and asked for the same courtesy.” “I suppose when faced with his imagined nemesis . . .” Campbell began. Mal snapped. “Simon. Of course. Martel wouldn’t pass up an opportunity to take the criminal mastermind into custody, even if it was a slight on his honor. He’s too devoted to duty to do that.” “Ai ya!” Inara said. “Then the three of them . . .” “Are on the Relentless, more than likely,” agreed Campbell. “Tian xiz shou yu de ren dou gai si!” Mal exploded. “My thoughts, exactly,” Campbell said, nodding sadly.

*

*

*

The infirmary was almost empty, now, as the medics had activated an interim aid station near the new quarters and had transferred most of the patients over there. But there was one patient, in particular, who remained aboard Serenity, with an armed guard stationed outside. For his own safety. Johnny entered the room with the same deadly grace that he had displayed when he had fought Major Lei the first time. He had his weapons, but no bodyguards – they were waiting discreetly outside. He still wore the yellowcoat he had gotten married in, and while his bride was being escorted to the VIP-suite-cum-honeymoon-suite Inara had located and prepared, he had a few things here on Serenity to take care of. “My ancestor,” he said with a small smile and a bow, as he entered. Though he was tempted, he did not seek to humiliate the man before him. “Descendent,” Major Lei said, nodding his head curtly. He tried raising his arms, and was stopped by the heavy restraints the Guardsmen had put on him. “Curious way of demonstrating your respect, nephew.” “I know, my lack of filial piety is shocking,” Johnny said, taking a seat on the bench nearby. The Major was stoic. “I assume you’ve come to prepare me for whatever mock trial you’ve set up? Why not just get right to the execution? I’m prepared to join our kin,” he declared resolutely. “Oh, wouldn’t that be simple,” Johnny admitted. “And it is tempting. It would make me very, very popular among the Guardsmen to have you executed publicly.” “I believe you would incur the wrath of Shan Yu if you did. My master is very unforgiving about such things.” “Not really concerned about the Tyrant. He was confirmed dead about an hour ago, just after I wedded his betrayer. One of them. Your brother was the other.” A cloud moved across the older man’s face, and he turned his head as a waterfall of emotions cascaded across his face. “This is true? How did it happen?” “The public story is that the Shepherd caught up with him and engaged him in titanic battle. The men are filling in the details from their own imaginations, I reckon, and the story will grow into a legend suitable for his character. The reality is that Shepherd Book did, indeed, catch up with him after his men were slaughtered. In his private chamber, where he was trying to escape. Book offered him a chance to live out his life in a monastery if he would turn from his wicked ways.” “My master, of course, refused.” “Of course. He was able to get past Book and into an escape pod that was set up there—” “I’m familiar with the one,” agreed the Major. “—where he ejected himself down to the moon below. Hecate, it’s called. Unfortunately, Shan Yu did not realize that Hecate suffered a terraforming event about thirty years ago, and has returned to its airless state. The pod crashed, and Shan Yu’s body has been identified from orbit.” “Master . . .” the Major whispered, a tear in his eye. “You followed him willingly? That intrigues me,” Johnny said coolly. “You were not there,” the Major said to the ceiling. “The Empire was in tatters, a bloated bureaucracy too riddled with corruption to govern effectively. Shan Yu was an opportunist, true, but he did the Empire a service when he took power. If only he had taken the throne, as I urged him! But he wanted to remain . . . true to his Confucian duty. At first. Later, he felt that his position as Warlord elevated him beyond the throne – so why bother? Dictatorship served his purposes admirably.” “His victims may have disagreed,” Johnny said, shaking his head. “But his reign is now, at last, ended.” “Do not forget that my brother also followed him,” Major Lei reminded. “Your hallowed ancestor.” “Yet he took action against him, when the Empire was imperiled.” “I did not have that luxury,” the old soldier conceded. “I was sworn to the man, unto death. In my day, there was such a thing as honor in the House of Lei.” “Yes, well, about that,” Johnny said with a sigh. “I’m in a difficult position. Because Shan Yu is dead, now. As are your men. But you, Major, you are a conundrum. Ordinarily I would allow my uncles to pass judgment upon you, but since our duel . . . well, I have been thrust into the role of Crown Prince, despite our depressing lack of an empire, and it falls to me now to make these kind of pesky policy decisions. Just what should I do with you?” “With my master gone, and my men,” the Major said, after a long pause, “I see little reason to carry on. I will accept whatever judgment that you give without protest.” “Again, I’m in a difficult position. Because on the one hand, you are no doubt guilty of plenty of horrific crimes in your master’s name. On the other, you are an ancestor, a member of my family, worthy by tradition of honor and respect. If I let you live I risk alienating the Guards, upon whom I’ve come to depend. If I kill you, no one much will care – except for me. Your crimes were done over a century ago. I cannot determine what the statute of limitations are on them, but absent a mob of victims crying out for your blood, it would be difficult for me to coolly have you ended. Oh, not really – I’ve killed men before. Those were more-or-less fair fights. But executing you would weigh on my conscience, especially when Book offered a chance at redemption to your master.” “That is a difficult question. At the same time, to bow to the fancies of your men in such a way would start the erosion of your power. A true Emperor has no judge but history and his own conscience.” “And that’s just the kind of thing I mean. You have insights and resources I covet and do not have. You saw up close the inner workings of a great empire, however morally bankrupt. If I am to govern my people, I need that kind of experience working for me. My uncles are astute and wise, but they have been in monasteries and rebellions for most of their lives, and I need a more comprehensive counsel than that. So I am toying with the prospect of freeing you – provided you swear fealty and take my service.” “Your Guardsmen would not like that, I can tell you now,” the Major warned. “Let me handle them. A true Emperor has no judge but history and his own conscience, remember? Besides, since you are an ancestor, I can invoke filial piety, and they will have to respect it.” “Perhaps,” murmured the Major. “Yet should I take you up on your offer, I expect to die by assassination sooner or later.” “That’s the price of being in a ruling dynasty,” shrugged Johnny. “I expect no less for myself and my bride.” “And how do you know I won’t betray you?” the Major asked, after further consideration. “Well, that one’s easy,” explained Johnny. “First, your master and your men are dead. You have no one else to betray me to. Second, as a member of the Imperial Household you shall be treated with respect, dignity, and lavish wealth – I hope. Therefore cash should not be an easy inducement. Third, I can tell already that this whole being Emperor thing is going to be a pretty crappy job – and I worked most of my life for a criminal organization that specialized in really crappy jobs. If you honestly wanted whatever power I might accumulate, you’d be more of an idiot than I suspect you are. And lastly, there is the matter of that bomb in your neck. I have the code that can activate it.” “Impossible,” scoffed the Major. “No one but my Master knows that.” “Not impossible. That little girl you captured? The teen ager? That’s River Tam. She’s an escapee from a government camp in which she got her brain scrambled. One of the reasons they did that to her was to turn her into a psychic, of all unlikely things. She’s clinically insane now – no less sweet for all of that – but she can read minds – and did read your master’s mind, when she was brought before him. She read the destruct codes out of his head and single-handedly slew every last one of your men without firing a shot. She was kind enough to pass the code on to me.” “Impossible!” “We have tapes confirming this. And there is only one way to find out for sure.” “Let’s . . . table that possibility for a moment. If I swear fealty, you would release me?” “And give a full pardon. Under the condition that you take my service.” “I . . . see. Well, what makes you think you’ll be a worthy enough Emperor to warrant that?” Johnny looked amused. “I honestly have no idea. Like I said, it’s a lousy job. But I’m young, not too stupid, and bright enough to realize when to take good advice. Apart from that, I don’t have many other qualifications.” The Major grunted. “Great dynasties have been founded on less,” he admitted. “Very well – do you mind if I consider the matter?” “Certainly, take your time. I’ve no lack of volunteers for firing squads, should you decline.” “In the meantime, what will become of me?” “I’ll have you moved to a private apartment, under guard. My uncle’s commandos, not the Imperial Guards – someone who doesn’t have an axe to grind. Once you decide you want to live, I’ll take your oath publicly and give you a position in my court. Under someone’s watchful eye, for a while. I’m a trusting sort, but I ain’t stupid.” “Your caution does you credit. Very well, make the arrangements. Allow me to think it over, and you shall have your answer on the morrow.” “That’s as much as I could ask for,” agreed Johnny, patting the older man’s hand. “Three months ago I thought the only family I had left was an idiot half-brother who hates the sight of me. Since then I’ve acquired two uncles, an aunt, and a bride. I’d rather have another uncle than preside over an execution. But the decision is yours.” With that, Johnny hopped up off the bench and left, acquiring his two bodyguards along the way. As he was leaving he encountered a barefoot River sitting at the bottom of the stairs. He raised his eyebrow at her. “He’ll do it,” she pronounced. “He won’t like it at first, but he’ll do it. He is utterly devoted, to the point of pathology. If he gives his oath, he will keep it.” “Thanks, Riv,” Johnny said, with a sigh. “Y’know, all this Crown Prince stuff is a lot harder than I thought.” River rolled her eyes. “Oh, yeah. Beautiful wife, loyal followers, untold wealth – you think you got problems? I just found out my brother is being held by bounty hunters that think he’s the worst villain since . . . Shan Yu.” She sounded depressed. “I’m fair certain that they’ll lose that belief soon after speaking to him.” “I know,” she said, glumly. “I just hope he doesn’t wait too long to say something monumentally stupid.” Johnny grinned. “Riv, I don’t think that’s gonna be a problem.”

*

*

*

“So what do you really think about our little nephew’s new bride?” Master Lei asked the General as they sat on a convenient pallet further out in the vast launch bay than the bulk of the celebration, and shared a bottle. The General took long, sweeping swigs of the too-sweet plum wine, while the Heavenly Master sipped in monkish moderation. “Oh, she’s a fair one, no doubt, and smart, too. A good addition to the gene pool. But she’s got ideas . . . that pretty little head is stuffed with schemes, and frankly it makes me nervous.” “I think you have little to fear. Her heart is good.” “And that’s your considered opinion as a professional holy man?” “It is my opinion as a professional judge of character. She has the best interests of our people at heart.” “So do I,” grumbled the General. “So, perhaps between the two of you we shall see our people thrive.” “I dislike throwing away a lifetime of painstaking work and sacrifice to be ordered around by a girl.” “The military exists to serve the Empire,” reminded the monk, as he sipped his wine. “The Empire sets policy, the military executes it. Without the Empire, there is no need for a military. And the Empire’s role, first and foremost, is to see to the welfare of the people. She will do that. So will Chin Yi.” “We were doing fine before they came along!” “Fei-oo. Your people are barely clinging on to life at Tsang Chow, and in a scant few years would have degenerated into a common criminal class. Only by virtue of their military discipline and tradition have they survived. Just look at what happened to the Browncoats, if you doubt me. Half of them are drunks or worse, the other half are drifting in spirit, if not in life. But military discipline will only take so far. At Tsang Chow and your Tong strongholds you have been ruling as an Imperial General while pretending that the Emperor has stepped out. Mark me, in a few years, when the next generation grows up, that fiction will not hold. Chin Yi and Nyan Nyan, they provide you with legitimacy and purpose. They can become a valuable symbol. They can be monarchs, even if they are monarchs in exile, and that will be sufficient glue to hold the Thousand Families together.” “We shall see,” pronounced the General, darkly. “Oh, lighten up,” chided the monk. “It’s a wedding! Like her or not, she’s family, now.” “That’s what they said about my mother-in-law,” the General grumbled. “At least the boy is spared that suffering.” Before Master Lei had a chance to comment, a very drunken Wash approached, his blue flightsuit in a state that would have gotten an actual member of the Imperial Fighter Command put on report. “If it ain’t my two favorite ol’ Chinese friends!” he slurred. “Great gorram party, y’think?” “Truth,” grunted the General, gulping down more wine. “I hear good things about your mission, Wildfire,” Master Lei said, pleased. “Oh, it was the most awesome gorram thing, Master Lei,” Wash said fervently. “Twelve up, twelve down . . . well, eleven and a half, I s’pose, if you wanna really be technical, but damn! I took ‘em down!” “So you did,” the Master said, encouragingly. “But while your flying was impressive, I was most intrigued about the manner in which you rescued yourself. It was . . . inspired.” Wash made a deep, humble, and mildly unstable bow. “I had a good teacher. I have found the Way in flight. I was as a gull on the breeze, a leaf on the wind.” “It was a pleasure to watch you soar,” agreed Master Lei. “I was gorram invincible! You shoulda seen it, no shit, at one point I had four of those tah ma deh on my ass, lasers screaming, mines goin’ off like champagne corks at New Year’s, overlapping fields of fire, cross-ecliptic dives, pincer moves, you name it . . . and I was like Buddha on a bender, slipping between beams an’ dodging mines, catching them short and knockin’ their mechanical dicks inna dirt . . .” he sighed. “I’ll tell you the truth. It was better than sex. But if you repeat that, I’ll deny it.” “I understand,” Master Lei said, nodding serenely and smiling. “I miss my days behind the stick. How did the Marauder perform?” “OhmyGod, like she just fell off o’ the assembly line!” Wash said, excitedly. “Kaylee did a masterful job – mistressful job? – getting’ her on line, and boy, when she got her full lead, she was like a ruttin’ thoroughbred – out-ruttin’-standing!” “I anticipated as much. I envy you . . . though I must admit, the prospect of having another chance behind the stick is more appealing than I thought it would be. An old man’s folly, I suppose, pining for the elements of his lost youth.” “Master,” Wash said, conspiratorially, “I dunno what kinda oaths you took in regards to . . . carnal pleasures – an’ I really don’t wanna know, I guess. But if flyin’ one o’ them Marauders is gonna put you in Purgatory for a century or two, damn if I don’t think it’ll be worth the trip. You might never have another woman in your life, but if you let that chance slip away before you die, you’ll be really missin’ somethin’!” The General looked up with disgust. “Flyboys!” he spat, and took another drink. “I am gratified that you got the opportunity, son.” “God, I can’t wait to tell Zoe about it in gory detail. My very own war story, without all o’ the diving behind cover and shooting wildly and screaming like a woman. Somethin’ of my own. That’s so shiny,” he said, contentedly. “I think you’ve truly won your callsign. Henceforth, Wildfire you shall be,” pronounced the monk. Before Wash could think of something witty to say, the radio he still wore on his shoulder activated – a little louder than he expected. He twisted and squeaked and nearly jumped out of his skin. “Forgot it was still on,” he said sheepishly. “Wash!” Kaylee’s voice rang out. It had a troubling timbre to it. “Wash, you awake?” “Here, Kaylee, what is it, hon’?” “Cap’n got some news. You’d better get up here. See who else of import you can hustle up: he’s called a council of war.” “But . . . the war’s over,” protested the pilot. “Can’t we continue drinking? I’m really into the whole drinking thing right now. And the bragging. But mostly the drinking.” “Wash, get your ass up here. Cap’n got word. Something’s happened to Simon an’ Zoe. And Jayne, too, I guess. But you’d best—” Wash was sprinting back to Serenity at a dead run.