Star Trek: The Next Generation - 050 - Dragon's Honor

by Kij Johnson

  Besides, now that they were less than an hour from Pai, it was absolutely vital that he brief his officers as much as he was able. They had to be fully prepared for anything that might occur, both here and on the planet’s surface. He only wished there had been time to inform the crew earlier, but Starfleet had made it clear that time was of the utmost importance. Easy for them to say, he thought with touch of irritation. They don’t have to understand the intricacies of an entire civilization with minimal preparation and study. The diplomat in Jean-Luc Picard was offended by the very notion of negotiating from a position of relative ignorance; the Starfleet captain resolved to make the best of a bad situation.

  “The Dragon Empire consists of slightly less than a dozen planets, all orbiting the same sun,” Picard continued.

  Worf made a derisive snort. “One solar system hardly constitutes an empire,” he said.

  “Perhaps not by the standards of the Klingons or the Romulans,” Picard conceded, “but it has a long history, dating back to the earliest days of human interstellar communication. Many researchers theorize that the Empire was originally settled by colonists from Earth’s Asian continent, sometime after the genetic wars. Indeed, our best data indicates that their society bears a strong resemblance to that of medieval China; it may be a deliberate re-creation of an old Terran culture, not unlike the Native American communities established in what is now the Demilitarized Zone. Unfortunately, records from that era are sketchy, and historians from Earth have not been allowed on Pai since its rediscovery by Starfleet.” Someday, Picard thought, if all went well with his current mission, he wouldn’t mind leading an archaeological dig on Pai; it would be fascinating to compare the historical traces of the planet’s original settlers with comparable artifacts from twenty-first-century Asia. All that depended, of course, on there being a Dragon Empire left to visit. The G’kkau were not known for their sense of historical preservation.

  “For several years now,” he explained, “the Dragon Empire has been divided by civil war. The Emperor, also known as the Dragon, faced a serious uprising led by Lord Lu Tung, a powerful noble. Not long ago, the Dragon’s forces put down the rebellion, but Lu Tung’s supporters remain numerous enough that the Dragon cannot deal with Lu Tung as decisively as he might like.”

  “In other words,” Riker said, “he can’t just stake Lu Tung out on an anthill somewhere.”

  “Precisely,” Picard said. “So a compromise has been worked out to prevent another war. The Emperor’s eldest son, the Dragon-Heir, will marry Lu Tung’s only daughter. This union will join the families and bring peace to the Empire. The bride, by the way, is known as”—Picard consulted his padd—“the Green Pearl of Lu Tung.”

  “My God,” Beverly said, obviously amused, “this sounds like something out of The Mikado.”

  “Indeed,” Picard agreed. He recalled that Beverly had recently staged an amateur production of that operetta as part of her ongoing Gilbert & Sullivan Festival. “Despite its humorous ring, though, this is a deadly serious business. Starfleet believes it is only a matter of time before the G’kkau invade Pai, expanding their own power and producing massive casualties throughout the Empire. Our own encounter with the G’kkau adds credence to this scenario. Starfleet has warned the Empire, and offered protection if the Empire elects to join the Federation; but the Federation is understandably reluctant to admit the Empire until their own internal conflicts are resolved. Via subspace, the Federation has hammered out a treaty with the Empire, all pivoting on the wedding as proof of the Empire’s newfound unity.”

  “But why are we here?” Riker asked. “With all due respect to your own diplomatic accomplishments, this doesn’t sound like a job for a starship.”

  “No offense taken, Number One,” Picard said sincerely. I have my vices, he thought, but vanity is not one of them. “The treaty needs to be signed in person by a representative of the Federation, and the Dragon insisted on a Starfleet commander rather an ambassador; apparently, they place great stock in an individual’s military prowess.”

  “Ah,” Worf said approvingly, “an honorable people.” Troi, seated between Worf and Riker, could not suppress a smile at the predictability of the Klingon warrior’s response.

  “I hope to find them so,” Picard said. “And yet it is not clear that the Pai fully comprehend the danger facing them. The treaty is not yet ratified and there is some concern that, even if the wedding goes off as scheduled, the Dragon might have second thoughts about joining the Federation. Sending the Enterprise, the flagship of the fleet, to the wedding is a high-profile goodwill gesture intended to ease the treaty’s passage. More importantly, it also gives me a chance to meet with the Dragon in person, and to convince him of the utter necessity of accepting the Federation’s aid against the G’kkau.”

  “Do you think the G’kkau will try to interfere with the wedding?” Riker asked. Picard was glad to see that his first officer had already worked through all the implications of their assignment. He could count on Will Riker to make sure nothing caught them by surprise.

  “Given our ‘chance meeting’ with Master Kakkh of the Fang,” he said, “I think we can practically guarantee it. Without the marriage, the civil wars are likely to resume. Without a unified government, the Dragon Empire cannot join the Federation. Without Starfleet’s assistance, the Pai will be wiped out by the G’kkau.”

  “For the G’kkau,” Riker observed, “that’s a pretty good incentive for breaking up the wedding.”

  Picard nodded. “It may prove just as well that the Federation sent the Enterprise to this event instead of a strictly diplomatic delegation.”

  “Captain,” Deanna Troi asked, “suppose the G’kkau were to attack before the wedding could be completed?”

  “Within limits the Prime Directive would apply,” Picard said grimly. “Unless they request our aid the Pai would be on their own.” He hoped it wouldn’t come to that. The Prime Directive was a wise and necessary principle, essential to the evolution of entire societies, but it could exact a cruel toll on an individual’s conscience. As captain of the Enterprise, he had too often found himself forced to stand by helplessly when faced with tragedies both small and great, all to preserve the Federation’s ancient doctrine of noninterference. In the greater scheme of things, it was the right thing to do; still, his sleep was sometimes troubled by memories of history’s innocent victims. Not this time, he promised himself. I will see the wedding concluded, and the Pai delivered into the safety and security of the Federation, even if I have to perform the ceremony myself! “Any questions?” he asked the assembled officers. “Suggestions?”

  Geordi shrugged. “From a technical standpoint, there’s not much I can do to engineer a happy marriage. If we want to make a good impression, though, perhaps I could put together some sort of high-tech entertainment for the wedding. A really snazzy fireworks display maybe.”

  “An excellent idea, Mr. La Forge,” Picard said, proud of Geordi’s initiative. “Every little bit helps.”

  “Yeah,” Geordi said enthusiastically, visibly brimming over with ideas. “Fireworks. That’s the ticket. Some lasers, some fluorescent isotopes, and quantum discharges . . . Captain, I think I can promise you a light show that the Pai will never forget.”

  “A prismatic shift in forcefield frequencies might also produce an aesthetically pleasing optical display,” Data suggested helpfully.

  “Make it so,” Picard said. Once again, he was struck by how curious it was that so much could depend on something as simple as a wedding. Or perhaps it was not so curious, he thought upon further reflection. Even on Earth, centuries past, the fate of nations had often been determined by a royal marriage or two, and a failed union could have cataclysmic consequences. Just look at Henry the Eighth, he thought, not to mention Charles and Diana . . .

  “Jean-Luc,” Beverly said. “Speaking of good impressions, there is one more thing we should consider. I don’t know much about the Pai in particular, but I did a tour of duty
on New Peking once and spent a lot of time visiting the museums and historical exhibits. If Pai is anything like ancient China, it must be an extremely male-dominated society. Women will be treated as lesser beings, as chattel even, and expected to be modest and subservient. Not unlike Ferengi females today.”

  “Fools,” Worf commented. Klingon society remained somewhat patriarchal, Picard knew, but, unlike the Ferengi, Klingons at least prized aggressiveness and defiance in their women. Picard could no more imagine Worf attracted to some shy, delicate flower of a woman than he could see the fierce Klingon warrior doting on a pampered poodle. Klingons expected their mates to disagree with them at every opportunity, and enjoyed the ensuing conflict. Given the growing affection between Worf and Counselor Troi, he wondered briefly what that said about Deanna.

  “Gender roles in Pai society are their own affair,” Picard said, “but I cannot ask my female officers to be treated with anything less than the respect they deserve. If the Dragon Empire is to join the Federation, they must accept our ways, just as we accept theirs.”

  “Of course,” Beverly agreed. “Still, given the importance of this treaty, I’m willing to bend a little bit this time around, just to avoid shocking the Pai leaders unnecessarily.” She glanced down at her at her formfitting Starfleet uniform. “Maybe we should dress more modestly, in keeping with Pai standards of propriety, if that’s okay with you, Deanna.”

  Troi shrugged, her long black hair cascading over her shoulders. “I suppose so,” she said. “There’ll be time enough to raise the Pai’s collective consciousness—after we’ve saved them from the G’kkau.”

  “I don’t know,” Picard said. “I am uncomfortable about requiring my female officers to conform to a different standard of dress and behavior.”

  “You’re not ordering us,” Beverly insisted. “We’re volunteering. Right, Deanna?”

  “Yes,” Troi replied. “When you meet with the Dragon, you want him to be concerned with the treaty, not our attire. We can’t afford to let anything distract the Pai from the issue at hand, namely their need for protection against the G’kkau.”

  “Very well,” Picard said. “In that case, I thank you and Beverly in advance for any special efforts on our behalf.” Rising from seat, he fixed his officers with a stern and steady gaze. “Dr. Crusher is right. Once we beam down to Pai, we must all be on our best behavior. More than a wedding and a treaty is at stake. This is a matter of life and death for all the people of the Dragon Empire. We dare not fail them, no matter how curious or backward their customs may seem to us.”

  “Personally,” Data said, “I look forward to observing a human culture that has developed in isolation from the Federation. The Pai may provide me with many insights into the history and development of human social structures and mores.”

  “Easy for you to say,” Riker joked. “You don’t have to wear a dress.”

  “Well, it could be worse,” Geordi said, turning his VISOR in the direction of Beverly and Deanna. “Ferengi females aren’t allowed to wear any clothes at all.”

  “So?” Troi asked, smiling. “On Betazed, no one would ever think of wearing clothing to a wedding.”

  Chapter Two

  THE BRIDGE OF THE FANG steamed slightly, but not enough to obscure from Kakkh the sight of his second-in-command, Gar, picking his way along the ridged floor.

  The G’kkau liked heat, humidity, and near darkness, more or less in that order, and designed their battleships accordingly. The control bridge of the flagship was very low, with a ceiling that followed the spherical curvature of the ship’s hull, making a huge inverted shallow dish that met the floor at the edges. G’kkau crew members stood in a scattered pattern around the bridge, reptilian heads down as they smelled and watched the displays set in the slimy floor. Their scaly bellies slid over the viscous yellow goo coating the solid duranium tiles. From time to time one or another of them touched raised controls on the floor with a clawed forelimb, and the taste of the air would change slightly as new information was emitted.

  Kakkh flicked his tongue out to read the air, hot and still and thick with the smells of the chemical indicators. He regretted that the humans were so thoughtless as to fail to transmit olfactory data along their communications channels; Kakkh would have liked to have sniffed Picard’s fear or resolve. How could he tell anything about an entity’s intentions only from its sight and sounds? Their useless transmissions were more proof, as far as he was concerned, that humanoids were a treacherous breed that deserved to be destroyed.

  “Master.” Gar stood beside Kakkh’s raised mound in the center of the bridge, a scarlet communications gel cupped between three talons. “Our contact among the Pai has opened a channel from the planet’s surface and asks for a moment of your time.”

  “Hah,” Kakkh snarled. “At last.”

  Gar dropped the gel into a lubricated depression in the floor. An oval screen between Kakkh’s forelimbs flamed into life, and Gar crawled to one side so they both could see it. Kakkh had to squint against the brilliance of the tiny image, that of a humanoid male dressed in multicolored robes. What Kakkh could see of the human’s surroundings looked dry and painfully bright. And probably cold.

  “The sooner we exterminate these people and reshape their world,” Kakkh muttered, “the better.” Then he switched on the automatic translator with a flick of his tail. “Greetings,” he said.

  The human snapped shut the paper fan he had been fiddling with. “Noble dragons, I give you welcome.” The man bowed, just low enough to seem a calculated insult even to the G’kkau who, being quadrupeds, did not normally bow.

  “I cannot wait to eat this one,” Gar said in an undertone.

  Kakkh only curled a warning talon as he responded to the man. “Is everything on schedule?”

  “Oh yes,” the Pai male said, sounding quite shocked at the suggestion that matters might not be in order. “Events like this cannot be planned or changed overnight, you know. The wedding is to take place tomorrow morning, just after sunrise. In fact, the wedding feast begins in mere moments, honored dragons.”

  “Except that there will be no wedding,” Kakkh said. “Correct?”

  “Naturally,” the human said with a smile, baring what seemed to Kakkh to be singularly unattractive and ineffectual teeth. The Pai have the jaws of a rodent, Kakkh thought. They were born to be prey. “I will have killed the Dragon by then.” His smile faded away. “I must admit, I have my regrets about this killing.”

  “You what?” Gar snarled.

  Kakkh felt his throat frills swelling, but he controlled his response. “What is there to regret? You will rule the Dragon Empire,” he lied.

  “Well, yes.” The human tapped his chin with one manicured fingernail. “But it troubles me that I must kill him without the honor of face-to-face combat.”

  Kakkh felt a pain in his forebrain beginning. “But you have explained to us that the Dragon is a weak and honorless fool,” he reminded the human. By the fangs of my father, Kakkh thought with some irritation, surely this miserable creature could not be having second thoughts at this late date?

  “Oh, he is unworthy of this throne, that is understood. And yet . . .”

  “It is your duty to save the Empire’s honor,” Kakkh said.

  “Yes, you are quite right, revered lizards,” the human said. “The honor of the realm demands a new Dragon, and I must be that man. I would, of course, wrest the Empire from him in direct battle,” he stressed, seemingly as much to himseff as to the G’kkau, “if that were only possible. Then he could die with honor. Alas, it cannot be.”

  “Why not?” Gar asked, squeezing onto the command mound. Kakkh could not blame him; Gar was younger than Kakkh, and less patient with the annoying foibles of mere mammals. “Why not just fight him now?”

  The human’s eyes widened in shock. “That would be quite impossible,” he protested, clearly scandalized. “The wedding has been scheduled for a year. It must take precedence over any formal challenge.”


  “I see,” Gar said. “A duel is inappropriate, but an assassination is acceptable.”

  “That is completely different,” the man said with some hauteur.

  Enough of this, Kakkh thought. It was important for the young to be exposed to the weaknesses of other species, but he could not risk antagonizing their human pawn so close to the fruition of their schemes. The human’s foolish assistance could spare the G’kkau considerable effort and casualties during the coming invasion. He hissed softly at Gar, who slithered away from the mound.

  “Just so the Dragon dies before the wedding,” Kakkh said. “As you have kindly informed us, the Dragon Empire’s treaty with that decadent Federation will be final after the ceremony. That cannot happen.” Kakkh swung his head from side to side, releasing a weary sigh. “It still amazes me that your ruler, once so wise and respected, would even acknowledge the existence of such barbarians.”

  “It scarcely seems possible,” the human agreed, “but the Dragon is old and soft.”

  “He must be,” Kakkh said, “to consider such an alliance. The honor and invincibility of the Dragon Empire is known throughout the universe. Why sully your magnificence by consorting with these foreign devils?”

  “I understand and enter entirely into your sentiments in this matter,” the human said. “Why, already one of their starships has violated our sacred borders. They orbit over Pai even now.”

  “The Enterprise?” Kakkh hissed sharply. As far as he knew, Picard’s ship was the only Federation vessel in this sector, but he wouldn’t put it past Starfleet to sneak in another ship under some transparent pretext.