Yuen-Mong's Revenge

by Gian Bordin

  After circling the planet three times in the space of six hours, they finally set down at Soro. The landing fee more than halved Atun’s credit balance. They packed a change of clothing, including her mother’s festive traditional Chinese dress, the four craw skin bags of gold nuggets, and the cube with her father’s research files hidden among video clips — no traceable evidence of it remained on the ship’s AI unit — and were on the first high-speed shuttle train to Androma.

  From the moment Yuen-mong stepped out of Vishnu, she was intensely aware of the open, slighting looks and deprecating mind emanations directed at her. These people really have a problem, she mused to herself. She felt that Atun had noticed it too, but he smiled at her and just said: "Yuen-mong, I love you."

  She made a deliberate effort to block out the negative vibes and in turn observed the people. Their stiff, closed-up expressions were in stark contrast to the generally friendly open faces on Old Earth. The behavior of OE people suddenly seemed pleasingly laid-back and unrushed. She was also struck by the even more heavily painted faces. Even males wore make-up and had plucked eyebrows. It seemed impossible that nature would have allowed some of the eye colors she saw. She presumed that they had done something to achieve that. The other aspect that struck her was the relative uniformity of faces. She first wondered if this was a result of inbreeding, but then remembered Atun’s remark on the widespread use of cosmetic surgery. Was this also the explanation for the unnatural rigidity in many faces? She would need to check this out.

  If their outmoded clothing stuck out on Old Earth, it did so even more here. Even the materials used seemed to be of a different texture. She decided that it might be a good idea to get some new clothes. It would remove at least that unwanted focus of attention.

  Androma had none of the run-down character they had seen on Old Earth. Everything impressed by its spotless newness. It looked ordered and formal, clean, bordering on the sterile, even the industrial areas the shuttle skirted past. She was staggered by the size of the city, the expanse of clean factories with their own nearby completely serviced housing estates set in green spaces, trees, and playgrounds. The uniform dress of most people within a given IC, different from IC to IC, intrigued her. A highly regimented world, she mused, not to her liking.

  They booked into the Androma Interplanetary, one of the many hotels rising high above the city shuttle train terminal. Their first priority was to contact Syd Twan, her mother’s former lawyer. They found his business listing, Twan Associates, in their room’s ICE comunit under corporate law services.

  "Corporate lawyer," remarked Atun, "hardly the right person for inheritance matters. He’s only dealing with big business firms and may not even receive you or else will only refer you to another specialist. From the long list of partners, it looks like a huge firm."

  "My mother was very insistent and certain that he would help. How do I approach him?"

  "Ask for an appointment, but I doubt you’ll get one."

  "Don’t be such a pessimist. There’s nothing lost in trying and —"

  "— yes, I know, you do the impossible."

  She smiled. "Come, Atun, hug me. You’ve not yet done it today."

  They embraced. She searched his eyes. "Atun, this is the first step in my quest. Are you still willing to help me?"

  "Yes, love, I am."

  "Love? You’ve never called me that. It feels good." She kissed him. "So we are in this together. My gain will be yours too."

  * * *

  The call to Twan Associates was answered by an automatic answering service, offering various options, all only for current clients. At the end of the list was a short notice that the firm did not accept any new clients.

  "We will go there in person," she said resolutely.

  "Nothing’s lost in trying," he replied smiling.

  "That’s the spirit."

  But they could not find a street listing.

  "Let’s ask downstairs. Somebody will surely know," she said.

  At the hotel service desk, she asked the attendant: "Sir, we are supposed to meet somebody in front of the Twan Associates offices. Could you direct us, please?"

  "No problem, madam," he replied and opened a local visitor’s map of a holoscreen projected on the counter. "We are here, and Twan’s is located there." He pointed into the image and a red line appeared, connecting the two points. "Your wristunits can display this too, and there are cabs to the left of the lobby, over there."

  Wristunits, that another purchase we have to make, she reminded herself. "Thanks, we prefer walking."

  The attendant raised his eyebrows. "It’s your choice, madam."

  "For a stone-age survivor, you’re catching on fast," Atun said, as they walked into the street.

  She was unable to respond to his pun, overwhelmed by the insistent background noise of the many minds that assailed her in the street. Closing her eyes, she forced her mind to block it out.

  "Are you all right?" he asked, taking her elbow.

  "I will be … in a moment." She led herself be guided by him.

  Even without the guide of a wristunit, they had no trouble finding the place. ‘Twan Associates’ was carved in gold lettering above a conservative neo-gothic marble entrance hall, a sharp contrast to the adjacent space-age buildings.

  "You know what you’re going to say," asked Atun.

  "Yes," she answered, smiling. "Just watch."

  At the reception desk, she told the attendant: "Would you please let Syd Twan know that Zoshan’s daughter is waiting to see him." It was said with such natural authority that the attendant followed her request instantly.

  "Here’s his secretary," he said, pointing to the holoscreen that appeared in front of her. It showed the head of a middle-aged woman.

  She repeated her request.

  "Do you have an appointment?"

  "I don’t need an appointment —"

  "Young woman, nobody sees Dr. Twan without an appointment. I’m sorry —"

  "I promise you that you will be in serious trouble if you do not tell Syd Twan that Zoshan’s daughter is here to see him." A degree of hardness had crept into her voice.

  The woman remained silent for a moment. Yuen-mong had the distinct impression that she was studying her face, trying to recall some distant memory. "Please repeat the name," she asked finally.

  "Zoshan Shen’s daughter."

  "Please wait." The face disappeared. It reappeared a minute later. "Did you say Zoshan Shen?"

  "Yes."

  "Dr. Twan will receive you in ten minutes."

  "Madam, sir, would you please take the third elevator to floor 56," the attendant said. "Miss Blacey will be waiting for you there."

  Atun nudged her toward the bank of elevators, whispering: "I don’t know how you do it. You may not realize it, but getting past the personal secretary of a man like this is almost impossible."

  "Why?"

  "Because it’s their job to guard their bosses from any unwanted intrusions, and some use it to wield power and to give favors."

  "It was the latter. I think my face triggered some past memory."

  Miss Blacey was indeed waiting for them when they came out of the elevator.

  "Miss Shen, sir, please follow me. Dr. Twan will receive you shortly."

  They took seats in an alcove that offered breathtaking views over the city toward Lake Carda. She could make out the outlines of the Sanctum perimeter. They did not speak, but she sensed the almost bursting curiosity that filled Miss Blacey’s mind.

  A deep male voice sounded from a speaker on the desk.

  Miss Blacey rose and said: "Miss Shen, Dr. Twan is ready to receive you." She went to the wide door to the right of her desk. It slid open automatically, and she invited Yuen-mong to enter, pointing with upturned palms.

  For a second, Yuen-mong hesitated whether she should ask Atun to come with her, but then decided against it. She felt that she needed to be alone to tell Syd Twan of her mother’s death.

&
nbsp; "Miss Shen," announced the secretary and withdrew immediately, the door closing with a barely audible thud.

  Yuen-mong remained standing inside the door. A tall man — she guessed in his late forties — with warm, pleasant, mixed Chinese-Caucasian features and of slim build got up from the desk and then stood like spellbound for several seconds. She could sense the intense turmoil of emotions unsettling his mind.

  Finally, he broke his silence. "I apologize, Miss Shen, for a moment I thought that I was seeing a vision from the past."

  She replied with a smile: "Yes, sir, I know I have a strong resemblance to my mother."

  "Yes, indeed, even the same smile… What message do you bring me from your mother after more than twenty years of silence?"

  She sensed the unspoken reproach, the genuine concern, mingled with deep regret. "Sir, I have no message. My mother and my father were killed eight years ago, and where we were it was impossible to send any messages."

  "Killed?" A shadow passed over his face. "Where?"

  "On Aros,"

  "On Aros." It was no more than a whisper. "The planet of no return? … So the rumors were true."

  "Rumors?"

  "Yes, rumors that your father was sent to investigate the ring of Aros. I did check at that time and discovered that over the centuries, several ships were lost there and nothing was ever heard of them again. You said killed?"

  "Yes, they died so that I could escape the savages who live there."

  He briefly closed his eyes and remained silent for a while. "Sorry, Miss Shen. Please take a seat." He pointed to one of several soft chairs around a low table and then sat opposite her. "Forgive me, Miss Shen, for intruding, are you willing to tell me the name your mother gave you?"

  She marveled how he knew that it had indeed been her mother who had named her. "Yuen-mong."

  "Yuen-mong… Complete the dream… Her dream that you will one day be able to leave Aros, I’m sure. So much like her." He again looked at her, seemingly drinking in her image.

  He must have loved my mother all these years, crossed her mind.

  "And how were you able to leave Aros when your parents could not?"

  "Their lander crashed and was damaged beyond repair. The savages on Aros — people that got stranded there centuries ago — lead very primitive lives. They have no metals and all their tools are stone-age. Some months ago, Atun Caruna from Palo, also crashed near my cave, but his craft survived, and we were able to rig it and return to my parents space ship that was still in orbit around Aros."

  "Yuen-mong — may I call you that?"

  She liked the way he pronounced it and nodded.

  "Yuen-mong, you have to promise me that one day soon you will tell me all about your mother and your life, but now I want to know what you expect from me."

  "My mother had told me that, should I ever get off-planet without them, you would help me."

  "And you need help now, or else you will lose your rightful inheritance."

  "Yes, that is why you were the first person I came to see after escaping Aros."

  "How have you managed so far? How did you pay for landing fees?"

  "We took gold along from Aros, and Atun Caruna still had some credits we could use."

  "Is he the man who came with you?"

  "Yes."

  "I would like to meet him and thank him. May I ask him in?"

  When she nodded, he quickly went to his desk to ask Miss Blacey to bring Mr. Caruna in.

  She got up too. Syd Twan met Atun halfway across the room, shaking hands.

  "Mr. Caruna, first of all I must thank you for rescuing Yuen-mong from Aros —"

  She was curious how Atun would react to that.

  "— Dr. Twan, it’s not me who rescued Yuen-mong. She rescued me. Without her, I wouldn’t have survived a day on Aros."

  "Oh, you are too modest."

  "Sir, when you get to know Yuen-mong, you’ll agree with me. I owe her my life several times, and even the way to get off Aros was her idea."

  "Atun, please? We did it together."

  He smiled awkwardly. Syd Twan studied them briefly, as if to guess their relationship, and then asked them to take seats again. "Unfortunately, I have to attend a meeting shortly. So let’s briefly talk about what steps are needed to secure your inheritance. Although I have no doubt that you are Zoshan’s legitimate daughter, DNA proof is needed. I will ask Miss Blacey to initiate that. Then, once it is confirmed, you must meet Chen Young, the head of your family and your grandfather. I guess, at that point things will be taken out of my hands. He will decide what happens next. Are you aware of the Foundation covenant?"

  "Yes, I am. But before you commit yourself to help me, I want you to be clear about my own position. I am my own master. I will listen and consider advice given, but I make my own decisions."

  He briefly raised his eyebrows. "I see, you not only have the looks but also the will of your mother. You though realize that this may mean you might be stricken from the Foundation register and lose all the privileges associated with it."

  "If it takes that to retain my freedom, I will have no regrets. Are you still willing to help me?"

  He smiled. "Yes. I never shy away from a challenge, and I have a hunch that this will be an interesting one, although the odds are stacked heavily against you."

  "We shall see," she answered and noticed his intrigued look.

  He got up. "Sorry, Yuen-mong. I have to rush off. Let Miss Blacey know where she can reach you. She will get in touch with you tomorrow morning at the latest. In the meantime, I suggest that you do not contact your relatives."

  "Thank you, Dr. Twan. My mother was certain that you would help me. She always spoke fondly of you."

  "She was a very close friend."

  Atun cleared his throat. "There’s one other minor matter. We’ve about ten kilograms of pure gold. Would you be willing to sell it for us?"

  "Ten kilograms? Quite an amount." He raised his eyebrows

  "Yes, we collected it four days before we left."

  "In four days you collected that much?"

  "Oh, it took us only a few hours," Yuen-mong remarked.

  "Remarkable. Ten kilos … that is about half-a-million credits at the official rate, but you should get more. Certainly, bring it to Miss Blacey, and I will have our treasurer sell it for you."

  When they took leave, Syd Twan held on to both her hands for several seconds, locking eyes with her. She sensed his heightened emotions and his strong goodwill toward her. I can trust him. She would carefully weigh up how much she could take him into her confidence about her quest.

  Back at the hotel, they packed the gold into a carry bag and took it to Miss Blacey, instructing her that the proceeds should be credited to Atun’s account.

  "May I have a look inside?" she asked. "I’ve never seen that much gold."

  Yuen-mong opened a bag and let her look at its content.

  "Real gold nuggets," she exclaimed.

  Yuen-mong took out three fairly big ones and put them into her hand. "Here, these are for you, to thank you for letting me see Dr. Twan."

  The woman blushed in spite of her age and murmured: "Thank you, Miss Shen. I must admit that I almost refused, but your face seemed so familiar. I saw your mother shortly before she left. How is she?"

  "She died many years ago."

  "Oh, I’m sorry."

  It felt genuine.

  * * *

  That afternoon they went shopping. She was sick of hearing derogatory comments or sensing disdain about their out-of-date dress style, although she felt that their attire was actually more becoming than some of the strange garb currently in fashion — both men and women wearing bulky three-quarter-length pants, exposing a lot of unflattering skin and bulges around the midriff, both pants or skirts sitting often below the hip that she was baffled how they were staying in place, platform shoes that seemed to weigh a kilogram each, resulting in a stiff, ungainly gait, and strangely cut tops that had designer holes at
the most unexpected places, all in strident colors, often clashing with the garish tones of their hair.

  Fortunately, there were a few who wore more sensible clothing and by matching theirs it would allow them to blend into the crowds, making it easier to get the feel for the city and its people. She bought several items, including full-length bellbottom black slacks, a white loose knit top and sandals that she wore straight away.

  She also tried on an evening dress — some women still wore skirt dresses for formal occasions — and could not help laughing when she saw herself in the mirror, but Atun assured her that she looked fabulous.

  "But how can you run in a tight skirt like this?" she asked.

  "You don’t run. They are made for standing around and for elegant walking."

  "You cannot even walk properly, only in small steps."

  "That’s considered elegant."

  "I would rather be safe than elegant."

  "I see. You’re still thinking survival. But this isn’t Aros."

  "Even on Andromatis, it’s wise to think survival."

  "I would like you to buy this dress. I love you in it. You look very desirable."

  She glanced at him amused. "Look, Atun, I saw other long dresses on the rack that had a slit in the skirt, I presume to allow walking. Get me one of those."

  "The slit is intended as an eye catcher."

  "Eye catcher?"

  "Yes, to draw attention to shapely legs, like yours."

  "Like that short skirt of the girl on Old Earth?"

  "No, that was advertising a service."

  She laughed. "Go, get me one or two to try on."

  A minute later he returned with three, one of them a black, glossy knit, leaving the shoulders largely bare, with a generous round décolleté, hugging her breasts. It had a slit on the right side that reached up well into her thigh.

  "Yuen-mong, you look gorgeous in that."

  "But why wear a dress that leaves you half bare on top. I will be cold."

  "Not in this mild climate, and you can always combine it with a colorful shawl. Take it … for me, please."

  "Do I also look desirable in it?" She turned, holding her hands on her flat stomach, looking at herself in the mirror, exposing her long right leg.