by Greg Cox
It occurred to Picard that Kan-hi, who had proudly proclaimed his guilt in the matters of the stolen wedding gifts and the short-lived disappearance of the Green Pearl, had never claimed responsibility for either of the assassination attempts on the Emperor. And why did Chuan-chi seem so convinced that he would soon be in a position to execute his brother? Suspicion gripped Picard. He took a few steps toward the Heir, then stiffened when he saw Chuan-chi reach once more into his robes. Perspiration had broken out all over the Heir’s forehead. His eyes looked crazed. Picard didn’t think he was going for his watch this time.
“Excellence!” he shouted. “Watch out!” The world seemed to segue into slow motion as he watched Chuan-chi draw what appeared to be a standard-issue, type-2 phaser from within his robes and aim it in the direction of his father. Picard lunged for the would-be assassin, even as he realized that he was too far away to stop Chuan-chi in time. It’s too late, he thought. I should have realized . . .
Beverly, however, was already standing by the altar next to Yao Hu. Hearing Picard’s warning, and reacting immediately, she kicked out her right leg . . . hard. Picard recalled that Beverly had once won first place in a dancing contest when he watched her powerful leg connect with Chuan-chi’s arm, which snapped upward, letting go of the phaser, which went tumbling through the air until Riker leaped up and snatched it in midflight. “There you are!” he shouted.
Worf and Chih-li instantly charged the Heir, tackling him to the ground. Deprived unexpectedly of their support, Kan-hi tumbled onto his hindquarters. The Green Pearl shrieked and ran to her sweetheart’s side. Lu Tung reached out to stop her, then threw his hands in the air, apparently overwhelmed by the shifting tide of events. The ancient priest fainted dead away, coming to rest in a bouquet of flowers behind the altar. The Dragon just stood there, blinking, as if unable to comprehend what had just transpired.
“Chuan-chi?” he said. “My son? My heir?”
On the floor of the temple, Chuan-chi struggled futilely to free himself from Worf and Chih-li’s grasp. “You don’t understand!” he cried. “I have to kill him before they get here! I promised them he’d be dead!” He slumped helplessly between the Klingon and the minister. “If I don’t,” he moaned, his voice fading to a whisper, “I’ll be just another victim.”
Troi wandered over to Picard’s side. “The Heir,” she said, shaking her head.
“Our assassin,” Picard confirmed.
“I wonder why I never sensed it,” Troi asked.
“You never had any contact with him,” Picard pointed out. “You were just a woman, remember? Even at the banquet, you were seated far away and out of sight.” Picard smiled grimly. “The Dragon almost paid for that social gaffe with his life.”
Even the Dragon could not ignore this blatant an assassination attempt. Picard could see the full implications of his eldest son’s actions sinking into the Emperor’s consciousness. His ruddy face went pale. He could not bring himself to even look in Chuan-chi’s direction as Chih-li dragged him away. Pale and trembling, he staggered over toward Picard.
“Dear captain, dear doctor,” he said, glancing at Beverly, “I owe you my life, such as it is. At this instant, I am not convinced that I still value this mortal existence, betrayed as I am by both my sons.” He sighed deeply. “But my tragedy does not in any way diminish the honor of what you have done here. If there is anything I can do to repay you . . .”
“Actually, Excellence,” Picard said gently, “there is the matter of the treaty.” Part of him felt guilty about taking advantage of the unfortunate Emperor’s gratitude in this way. Still, Chuan-chi was correct in one respect; the G’kkau were on the way.
“The treaty?” the Dragon said absently. Picard feared he might be in shock. “Oh, yes, the treaty. Well, this changes everything, of course. Your selfless heroism demonstrates that your honor is at least equal to our own, so there can be no dishonor in melding your honor with the honor of the Dragon Empire. Where is that treaty anyway? I’ll sign it this very minute.” He glanced around the temple, as if expecting a scribe to instantly appear with the proper document in hand. “Mu!” he called. “Where is that man anyway? Never around when I need him. You’d think there was a wedding going on or something. . . . Wait!” A thought struck him, and he clutched his head between his hands. “The treaty’s no good without the wedding, and how can there be a wedding now?”
A very good point, Picard admitted. Lu Tung could hardly be expected to marry his daughter to a confessed assassin who was no longer remotely in line for the throne. There seemed no way to unite the warring factions now, unless . . .
Riker interrupted Picard’s musings. “I hate to bring this up at a time like this, but there’s something you really need to know. It’s about a poker game, which seemed like a good idea at the time.”
“G’kkau ships approaching Pai,” Lieutenant Melilli announced. She looked meaningfully at Data. “They are within range of our phasers, sir.”
Data shook his head. “The Prime Directive remains in effect, until the captain informs us otherwise.”
“It’s a wedding,” La Forge exclaimed. “How hard can it be?”
Data assumed the question was rhetorical, but answered anyway for the good of morale. “Captain Picard did suggest that there were unforeseen difficulties to be dealt with.”
“Can’t we just drop a few more photon mines?” Ensign Craigie asked.
“Not within the boundaries of the Dragon Empire,” Data said.
“Besides,” La Forge added, “I don’t think they’d have any effect on the G’kkau’s engines outside the nebula itself.”
“But we must do something!” Melilli said. Her earring rattled angrily as she spoke with great heat. Data began to understand why earrings were not considered proper Starfleet attire, even though concessions were made to Bajoran officers on account of their religious beliefs.
“Indeed,” he said, “we must do something ex tremely difficult in such a dire situation. We must wait.”
“You won what?” Picard said. He couldn’t believe his ears.
“Er, the planet, sir, and everything on it.” Riker repeated. “It’s a long story, sir.”
“Well, the short version, Number One, is that your planet is in serious jeopardy, and this latest complication does nothing to ease the situation.”
Picard paced in front of the altar, his mind racing to come up with a solution, any solution. There had to be a way to secure the alliance between Lu Tung and the Dragon, and thus fulfill the treaty between the Empire and the Federation, before the G’kkau rendered the entire planet a smoking ruin. All they needed was a wedding. . . . His head snapped up. “Will,” he said urgently, “how much did you win again?”
Riker looked miserable. “Let’s see, forty-two major properties in the Empire, a brewery dating back three centuries, about fourteen hundred indentured servants, and eleven full households, including wives and concubines. I’ve probably forgotten some of it, sir. And the planet, of course.”
“Of course,” Picard echoed. A plan was forming in his brain. It was a bizarrely convoluted one, but that probably made it perfect for the Dragon Empire. “That should be more than enough, Number One.” He strode decisively to the center of the temple. “Excellence,” he called out, raising his voice. “Everyone? If I can have your attention?”
“What is it, dear Captain?” the Dragon asked. All eyes turned toward Picard.
“A very simple matter, Excellence. I propose a marriage between my esteemed first officer, William Riker, and your granddaughter, the honorable Hsiao Har.”
“What—!” Riker exclaimed. Hsiao Har’s eyes lighted up as she stared at Riker with ill-disguised glee. Beverly and Deanna simply looked confused.
“At ease, Number One,” Picard said. Will’s going to have to trust me on this, along with everyone else. “I believe an exchange of gifts is appropriate at this juncture. As a brideprice fully worthy of the infinite prize of your granddaughter’s hand, Com
mander Riker offers the planet Pai itself, which he has recently acquired from your son, the former Heir.”
The Dragon’s eyes widened. “Is this true?” he asked Riker.
“On my honor,” Riker said, squirming a bit under the intensity of Hsiao Har’s adoring gaze.
The Dragon shrugged. “Why not then? The world has gone mad already, and we might as well have at least one happy occasion to celebrate. A marriage between one of your people and mine is a fine idea. I should have thought of it before.” He scratched his chin. “What sort of dowry are you asking for?”
“As a dowry,” Picard said, “we request only a pardon for your Second Son, the misguided-but-honorable Kan-hi.”
“A pardon?” The Dragon was visibly taken aback. He stared, scowling, at his younger son, who remained in shackles with Yao Hu by his side.
“Consider the matter, Excellence,” Picard said quickly. “Kan-hi’s errors in judgment were those of a young man in love. Once pardoned, he would be free to marry the Green Pearl in his brother’s place, thus sealing your alliance with Lu Tung and fulfilling the terms of your treaty with the Federation.” And freeing the Enterprise to protect your Empire, he added silently. “Assuming that is acceptable to you, Lord Lu Tung.”
The dour warrior nodded his assent. “Better a thief than an assassin, I suppose. Although,” he added, looking directly at Kan-hi, “if you disappoint my daughter in any way, know that you will answer to me.”
Kan-hi gulped. “I understand, Lord Lu Tung. I love Yao Hu with all my heart. You won’t regret this.”
“I don’t know,” the Dragon said. “Everything is happening so fast.”
“Please, Exalted One,” the Pearl pleaded, never budging from her lover’s side. “Don’t you see? It’s destiny. Our union is fated.”
“Well . . .” the Dragon said, overwhelmed and undecided.
Troi took the Emperor by the arm. “Surely,” she said, “a man so wise in the ways of love and romance cannot remained unmoved in the face of the obvious passion between your son and the Green Pearl of Lu Tung?”
“What?” he said. “I mean . . . no, of course not! Very well, Kan-hi is pardoned. Let the weddings begin!”
“Weddings?” Riker blurted, emphasizing the plural. Meanwhile, Hsiao Har was now holding on to Riker’s arm as if she was afraid he would suddenly flee for the hills. A distinct possibility, Picard thought, if this goes on much further. He whispered in Beverly’s ear.
“Excuse me,” she said a moment later. “Before the joyous nuptials between Lord Riker and Hsiao Har can take place, I must complete a brief medical examination.” She approached the unlikely looking couple.
Riker was blushing bright red by now. “Beverly,” he asked, “what’s this all about?”
“Ssssh,” she murmured while she ran her medical tricorder over him, humming thoughtfully at the results. Then she did the same to Hsiao Har. The girl didn’t even glance in Beverly’s direction, preferring to stare moonily at Riker. “Alas,” Beverly announced. “It is as I feared.”
“What?” said the Dragon, Riker, and Hsiao Har, in various tones of concern, anxiety, and fear.
“This wedding between Lord Riker and the Dragon’s granddaughter is unhappily impossible,” she said.
“Why?” asked the Dragon, Riker, and Hsiao Har, this time blending curiosity, hope, and despair.
“Because Lord Riker and Hsiao Har are incompatible. They can never have children together.” Only Picard saw Beverly wink at Riker, who released a less-than-tactful sigh of relief.
“It is impossible?” the Dragon asked.
“Even the advanced medicine of the Federation could do nothing to make their union fruitful.”
“That’s all right, Grandfather,” Hsiao Har said, practically jumping up and down. “I don’t care. His second wife can give him all the babies he wants. They’re smelly, disgusting things anyway.”
The Dragon shook his head dolefully. “The Imperial bloodline must be continued. There must be heirs.”
“Yao Hu will give you heirs,” Hsiao Har insisted. “Lots of them! I just want Lord Commander Riker.”
Troi couldn’t help glancing at Riker, who looked positively crimson.
“No,” the Dragon decreed. “We cannot allow any branch of our celestial heritage to wither on the vine. Nor can I deprive my granddaughter of the most noble calling any woman can have: that of a mother. This marriage cannot take place.” He paused. “The gift exchange was without fault, however, so we will have to keep the planet Pai as compensation for this failed engagement.”
“We wouldn’t have it any other way,” Picard said.
“Yes,” Riker insisted. “Please keep everything, with all my goodwill.”
Hsiao Har uttered a Pai curse which sounded unimaginably obscene.
“Which frees the Green Pearl and Kan-hi to wed,” Picard said briskly. “Let them do so immediately.”
Chapter Fifteen
THE ANCIENT PRIEST could not be roused.
“Is he dead?” Picard asked apprehensively. Considering the man’s obviously advanced years, it seemed more than possible that the excitement of the last fifteen minutes might have been too much for him.
“No,” Beverly answered, bending over the collapsed priest. “He just won’t wake up.”
“Poor old Tsai-lung,” the Dragon sighed. “He presided over my own first wedding, and my father’s before me.”
“Is he likely to come to anytime soon?” Picard asked.
“Oh, I doubt it,” the Dragon said. “These days, he wakes up only once every year or so. It required several months of preparation to rouse him for this wedding.”
Picard would have pulled his hair if he’d had any to pull. I don’t believe this, he thought. “Aren’t there any other priests available to perform the ceremony?”
The Dragon laughed. “My dear captain, does it look to you like I am running a religious retreat? Between you and me, I prefer to keep spiritual leaders at distance; they place too great an emphasis on celibacy and moderation.”
“Perhaps we can beam one here . . . ?” Picard began. His comm badge chirped, establishing a communications channel with Data.
“My apologies for the intrusion,” the android’s voice said, “but the G’kkau ships have taken offensive positions above the planet’s atmosphere. The Fang is directly challenging the Enterprise. Might I ask if there is any progress on the wedding front?”
“Mr. Data,” Picard said brusquely. “I promise you, I will get these two married if I have to perform the ceremony myself!”
“In that case, Captain,” Data replied, “I strongly urge you to do so promptly. The Fang is now charging up its disruptors.”
Picard shook his head. “I wasn’t speaking literally, Data. I just—” He froze as a sudden idea hit him with the force of phaser blast. Why not? “Data, prepare to beam the following individuals to the Enterprise.”
“Lower shields,” Data ordered.
Melilli Mera gasped out loud. She hesitated, her fingers frozen above the controls.
On the main screen, the Fang floated against a backdrop of distant stars. The curved point of its crimson tip seemed aimed directly at the Enterprise. A smaller display, inset in the lower left-hand corner of the screen, provided a graphic schematic of the location of the other four G’kkau warships in proximity to both the Enterprise and the planet below. As a precaution, Data had ordered photon torpedoes locked on the coordinates of each of the G’kkau vessels. All he awaited was the authorization to fire them.
“Lower the shields,” Data repeated, “for the fraction of a second required to beam the entire wedding party to Ten-Forward. Then restore the shields at full strength.”
“Okay,” La Forge said, manning the ship’s defense station. “Do you think we’ll get away with it?”
“Perhaps,” Data said. His memory circuits reminded him of the wedding of Miles and Keiko O’Brien, during the preparations for which he had personally uncovered a Romulan sp
y. “Are all human weddings so hazardous?”
“Honestly?” La Forge said. “I’ve been to a lot of bad weddings in my time, but this one takes the cake!”
The floor seemed to shake beneath Picard’s feet as he materialized aboard the Enterprise. At first, he assumed it was a transporter malfunction. Then he realized the floor really was shaking. The Enterprise was under attack.
“Hurry, everyone, take your places!” he instructed. Every human and Pai in the temple had been beamed aboard the starship, including the venerable Tsailung, now stretched out on the floor behind Guinan’s bar.
Ten-Forward was literally deserted. Everyone was at battle stations, he realized, briefly wondering where Guinan was. He quickly cleared a space at the front of the spacious lounge. Beverly, assuming the role of the bride’s mother, hurriedly moved Lu Tung and the Pearl into place before Picard. Both father and daughter were gaping wide-eyed at Ten-Forward, not to mention the panoramic starscape visible through the lounge’s windows, so Beverly had to physically drape Lu Tung’s arm over Yao Hu’s. Meanwhile, Riker stood to the left of Kan-hi, appointing himself best man. The groom’s hands were still in shackles, but there was no time to deal with that now. Deanna held on to Hsiao Har’s shoulders, lest the jealous teenager tried to latch on to Riker again. The Dragon, looking totally at a loss, collapsed into one of the many chairs scattered throughout Ten-Forward. The sturdy duranium-alloy structure sagged beneath his weight. “I don’t understand,” the Emperor said. “What are we doing here?”
“As captain of the Enterprise,” Picard explained, “I am authorized to perform weddings aboard this ship. Right now, we need a wedding with all deliberate speed.”
“Oh, that’s all right then, I guess.” The Dragon settled down at his table, apparently content to be a spectator from now on.
