Dragon's Honor - Kij Johnson [61]
“I was just an Underscientist of the Fifth Rank,” the Celestial Mechanic recalled, “but I managed to do some work on it. It was breathtaking.” He looked dreamily at the miniature globe, quiescent again. “The gases develop rippling effects, like scales in green and pink, and flat planes of color that beat against each other—”
“The little pops of certain compounds interacting—”
“The shimmering and the iridescence—”
La Forge looked from one scientist to the other. “So what you’re telling me is that the Dragon Nebula naturally produces a light show like this every so often.”
“Well, not quite like this. It’s a lot more active.”
“More colors,” the Astronomical Savant agreed. “And it did it just five years ago. Almost everyone will remember it. It is truly unforgettable.”
So how come I’ve never heard of this spectacular natural wonder before? La Forge thought angrily. Then he remembered that the Dragon Empire had been cut off from the rest of the galaxy for generations. “All that work,” he muttered. Right down the wormhole.
“Oh, I’m sure your little show will be charming,” the Celestial Mechanic said. “Doubtless it’s more impressive at full size.” He glanced around nervously. “Can we inspect your warp nacelles now?”
“Lieutenant Kesel can explain the workings of the nacelles to you. Barbara?” he called to an assistant engineer from the Dark Horse system. “Can you explain to these gentlemen how the warp nacelles work? I have to get back to work.”
Do I ever, he thought.
“It’s my turn,” the Dragon said gently. “If you recall, I have two turns in a row when my Peasant Farmer surprises your Homely Maiden.”
Dozens of black and white figurines were deployed across the varnished surface of the playing board. The sights, sounds, and smells of the busy kitchen faded into the background as Picard tried to focus on the game. They had been playing ch’i for at least an hour now, but he could not begin to make sense of the strategies involved. The Dragon’s technique for teaching him the game seemed to be to explain nothing until Picard made a move, and then to explain to him how he had forgotten some esoteric and eccentric rule. He hoped his growing frustration was not weighing too heavily on Deanna’s empathic senses.
“Excellence,” he said, determined to keep working toward the only victory that counted. “Please understand that the Federation is not in any way interested in lessening your honor or your autonomy as an Empire. In fact, Federation membership would offer you greater opportunities for honor, as you enter into new relationships of mutual respect with peoples and societies you might otherwise never encounter.”
“Yes, yes,” the Dragon concurred without much interest. His gaze remained glued to the gameboard. “It looks as though you have forgotten your Drunken Guard, Captain.”
“I think perhaps I must have,” Picard sighed. “Which piece is the Drunken Guard?”
“The one I am about to take,” the Dragon said, reaching down for one of Picard’s obsidian pieces and adding it to his growing pile of tiny statues. Picard began to fear that his entire “kingdom” would be depopulated before he convinced the Dragon to sign the treaty.
“You have an extraordinary variety of pieces in this game,” he said. “Just as the Federation nurtures an infinite variety of cultures.”
“That’s because we actually play a number of games with them,” the Dragon said, blithely ignoring Picard’s editorial commentary. “For instance, this is the simplest variety: straight ch’i. In Married Bliss, however, all the pieces are ‘wed’ in pairs, who then fight one another, as well as uniting to fight outsiders.” One of the pug-faced dogs bumped the Dragon’s elbow, jumping up on its hind legs to beg for food.
“The simplest version,” Picard said, incredulous.
The Dragon tossed the last, uneaten morsel of p’u tzu to the hungry dog. Picard was glad to see it go. “Oh, yes,” the Dragon said. He clapped and the chief chef rushed to his Emperor’s side. “Nan Hai, the captain looks hungry. Bring us a plate of the