Dragon's Honor - Kij Johnson [99]
“Really?” Kan-hi asked. He couldn’t seem to believe his good fortune. Not too surprising, Picard thought, when you considered that he had gone from disgraced criminal to husband and future Dragon in less than an hour.
“Make it so,” he said.
Chapter Sixteen
IF THE ACTUAL WEDDING WAS RUSHED, the reception was a lavish, leisurely affair. Over a hundred Pai notables, and a sizable percentage of the crew of the Enterprise, milled about and mingled amid the sweet-smelling cherry blossoms of the Emperor’s gardens. Gigantic paper lanterns, some mounted on high-flying kites, provided brightly colored illumination as Pai’s sun gradually crept toward the horizon. Food and drink were provided in abundance, although Picard contented himself to a cup of tea—Earl Grey, hot—beamed down straight from his own replicator. He’d had quite enough of exotic cuisine for the time being, thank you very much.
Strolling through the gardens, he found Worf and Chih-li seated upon a bench beneath a shady tree. Was the Klingon attempting to master the intricacies of ch’i? If so, Picard wished him both good luck and endurance. Drawing nearer, however, he saw that the Dragon’s Minister of Internal Security was shuffling an ordinary deck of cards. “Greetings, honorable captain of the most honorable Worf,” Chih-li said. “We have agreed to settle our duel by playing this game of poker. Lord Li Po informs me that it is an honorable game comparable to the clash of mighty armies.”
“That’s one way of looking at it, I suppose,” Picard said. He gave Worf a warning glance. “Be careful, Mr. Worf. Be very careful.”
Continuing down the path, he came at last to an wide, open courtyard full of Pai and Starfleet personnel. A raised dais, bedecked with hangings of silk and satin, had been erected on the southern edge of the courtyard. He recognized a few of the dignitaries seated upon the dais: the Dragon and Lu Tung, sitting side by side at last, as well as Geordi La Forge and Beverly. Chuan-chi, the treacherous former Heir, was conspicuous by his absence, as were the happy couple themselves, presumably for a far more joyous reason.
He was amused to see Master Kakkh upon the dais as well, his scaly body wrapped in bandages and coated with a smelly blue salve. Kakkh had had no choice but to throw himself upon the mercy of the Pai after the Fang lost its life-support capabilities. The rest of his crew was confined under house arrest in the murky tunnels beneath the Imperial Palace, which was actually the kindest place to keep them. As the senior ranking officer among the G’kkau, however, Master Kakkh had been “invited” (in the strongest possible terms) to represent the G’kkau at the wedding reception as a demonstration of the “new and lasting peace” between the G’kkau and the Dragon Empire. Kakkh’s tongue flicked miserably at the flying insects attracted by the glowing paper lanterns hanging over the dais. He did not look like he was having a good time.
“Captain!” La Forge cried out. “Hurry. You’re just in time for the fireworks!”
Picard ascended the steps to the dais even as the first skyrocket zipped into the sky. It exploded in midair, throwing off a huge bouquet of gold and silver sparks and emitting a bang loud enough to shake the tea in his cup. More rockets followed, some whistling, some screaming like banshees before they detonated in a symphony of light and smoke and noise. The awestruck Pai oohed and aahed along with their Federation guests, reacting as much to the bangs and whistles, Picard noted, as to the colorful spectacle filling the evening sky.
“Listen to it!” enthused the Dragon. “The noise! The sounds!”
“Indeed,” Lord Lu Tung agreed, holding his hands over his ears to protect them from the loudest bangs. “Most remarkable.”
Picard sat down between La Forge and Beverly. “Congratulations, Geordi,” he said. “Your show is an unqualified success.”
“Captain, you have no idea.” La Forge confessed, “I was really stumped there for a while. Then I remembered—what about gunpowder? Good, old-fashioned fireworks … like