CHAPTER EIGHT: RELATIONS

Civilized life spread steadily to the surface of Meng-shi-jie as soon as the stream of building materials from Shanji began to arrive regularly. And after a million years of violent activity, Tengri-Nayon had calmed to grumbling in only a decade. Now it burned steadily, an infant main sequence star looking forward to a lifetime of ten billion years.

With the stabilization of the solar constant, the atmosphere of Meng-shi-jie also calmed, with regular weather patterns varying weakly with the seasons, for Meng-shi-jie's rotation axis was nearly vertical to the ecliptic plane. The original mining settlements had been in the north at a latitude of fifty degrees, and it was there that civilization first appeared on the surface. It was there that the rains fell hard one month of each year, filling the great aquifers and underground lakes and nourishing the seedling trees brought from Shanji.

At first, there were only dugouts, structures of clay and stone half-buried in the ground, but then buildings of steel and concrete rose in their place, workers swarming like ants on scaffolds of whitebark. There was no shortage of labor, because the migrants had come; the work was something they could do, for many were unskilled. But Abagai refused to take advantage of them; she paid all an honest wage and guaranteed each worker a family apartment in the structure he helped to build. It was the migrants who built the first cities on the surface of Meng-shi-jie. They built the great aqueducts that distributed the subterranean water; they planted the trees, and put down the concrete for the first streets while their children studied hard and learned skills their parents had never dreamed of. And in time, the children of those children would hold prominent places in the society of Meng-shi-jie, for with diversity in a culture comes strength.

Still, life was difficult in the early days on the surface. There was a long season of extreme heat, followed by a month of torrential rain, then heat again. The ozone layer was a feeble thing, and ultraviolet light a constant danger. People sweltered terribly in the heat, for only heavy clothing would protect their skin. With every breeze came clouds of sand and fine dust from the great deserts to the south. Respiratory ailments were commonplace, and even Abagai was not spared. She developed a deep, hacking cough, and began wearing a mask when she was outside. But the cough persisted, and sapped her strength, for she was now nearly eighty years old. More and more, she gave Yesugen the responsibility for managing everyday affairs, and kept to her rooms and office in the cool basement of the twenty-story building which housed the administrators, project managers and high-ranking military officers on Meng-shi-jie.

She'd been outside earlier in the day, and her chest ached. Even the mask did not filter out all the fine dust, and now those sharp, crystalline grains were scratching at her lungs again. Yesugen's apartment and offices were right above hers, connected by a helical staircase and an elevator. Lately, she used the elevator, for the stairs left her breathless. They had breakfasted together, and Yesugen had taken her to the greenhouse at the top of their building to see the new plant varieties and look over the city.

Hybrid Tysk lined streets radiating from the city's hub in morning light, and they were beautifully green. By mid-day, their leaves would roll up into tubes, conserving moisture in the heat, and so morning and early evening were the best times to see the greening of Meng-shi-jie.

Now she was back in the blessed coolness of her rooms, and it was time for a communication she had delayed until she could be sure her proposal was more than conjecture. Wizera would find it extraordinary, but hopefully believable, for he knew about the gong-shi-jie and Abagai's travels there. Her own genetic line went back to the Sensitives on Lan-Sui, and she'd searched for her own kind there long before she'd found Kati. No one there could do what Kati could do, and now there was Yesui. It was time for Wizera to know about them.

Her message to Lan-Sui was sent to Yesugen's flagship, and coded for "Governor's Eyes Only" before being relayed.

"Dear Antun," she said to her machine. "The time has come for me to tell you about two extraordinary people who have joined me in the gong-shi-jie. They come from the extension of my genetic line through the Moshuguang on the planet named Shanji. One of them is now Empress of that planet, and the other is her daughter, now seventeen. Both are far beyond me in ability, and what they can do might bring life back to Lan-Sui if you are willing to take risks that might threaten your city."

She described Kati and Yesui in detail: personalities, their movement of light and mass, including what Kati had done in the war on Shanji, their clandestine visit to Lan-Sui as mental apparitions, then Yesui's suggestion to transfer mass to Lan-Sui and heat it up again.

"Yesui has become adept at moving mass in and out of single stars, but she has not yet worked with planets. We would have to proceed slowly and cautiously in many steps, but I'm convinced the girl can bring Lan-Sui to its former self if you allow her to do it. The approval for this project must come from you, Antun, since it's your people who take the risks involved. Yesui herself is confident and eager to begin, but I'm not pressing you for a decision now. I only want your comments on her idea as soon as possible."

Message sent, she waited, and bathed in the huge tub surrounded by potted plants in one room of her living quarters. A meal was sent in and she meditated, breathing in highly filtered air and feeling some strength returning to her old body. Yesugen called once to brief her on a meeting. The Advisory Council was growing impatient about the continued watch over Lan-Sui. The troops there could also be used for hard labor in tearing down the old, subterranean villages and converting them to cool pleasure centers by the lakes. She heard Kabul speaking to Yesugen in the background. She thought of the way her daughter now looked at the man, even when a mother was present, and she was gladdened by it. She was most curious about what they did with each other when the workday was done, for now it seemed they were always together.

It was late evening when Wizera's reply finally arrived. Her machine beeped, and she urged her legs to move faster as she went to it. Only words on the screen, no image of his face, for the message was again coded for top secrecy. She wished to see his face, to read him in any way she could, but it was not possible this time.

"Dearest Mandughai," he said. "Your message is astonishing to me, yet I must believe what you say because you have never given me any reason to doubt your words. Still, I'm shocked to hear that such powers exist, and I am a person familiar with unusual abilities. My own son is a brilliant Sensitive, and I deal with him every day. My fear is that my people will not believe such news; they will think it a false promise I make to give them hope. The risks involved are extreme, as I see it, and a project like this must be a long-term thing to avoid disaster. It could take a lifetime, or longer, to achieve, and there is only one person, this Yesui, who can do it. I have my doubts, Mandughai, though the restoration of Lan-Sui would be the answer to all the prayers I send to the forces that truly govern us.

"Yes, I wish to further discuss your proposal, but it must be done in secret. I do not wish to raise false hopes or concern with my people at this time. It is enough that Lan-Sui shows occasional spurts of life that could threaten us. Over the last few years, several new storms have appeared, but all to the north of us. Their roots were not deep, and they lasted only months, but if we'd been trapped in any of them the city would have been destroyed. Natural events, Mandughai, but the nerves of my people are already on edge because of them.

"Please send me a detailed plan as soon as possible. I would also like to meet this girl, Yesui, if it can be arranged, and also her mother. Let us move forward with this marvelous idea, but with careful thought."

Abagai saved the message to cube, and stored it in her desk. Well, it's a beginning, she thought.

The family was nearly finished with their meal when Antun returned to the room. He sat down silently across from his wife and son at the center of the long dining table, and picked absently at his food.

Nokai frowned at him. "You're troubled, Father," he said.

"Bad news, dear?" asked Hira, his wife of twenty years. She had worn a gown, instead of a robe, and it had slipped a bit, revealing a bare shoulder. Her face was long, with the delicate features she had passed on to their son.

Antun looked up, and smiled. "No. It was a message from Mandughai. Nothing bad." He picked at his food again, deep in thought, but felt their eyes on him, felt Nokai meld with his emotions to bring him peace. Finally, he put down his utensil, and looked hard at both of them.

"All right. I will share what I just heard, but it must not leave this room. No one else must hear about this. Do you understand?"

"Yes, Father," said Nokai.

"Of course, dear," said Hira sweetly.

If he did not tell them now, Hira would only coax it out of him in a dream, and Nokai had even more subtle ways of doing the same thing. But it was Nokai, as a novice Sensitive, who knew the histories of the Mandughai. Antun looked at his son when he spoke.

"You know about the gong-shi-jie, and the travels of the Mandughai there?" he asked.

"It is the source of creation, the place from which light came to form the universe. It is without form, or void, or time, having only energy, and the Mandughai travel there as apparitions of thought," said Nokai reverently. "They are one with The Mother. It is what I strive for, Father. I would be with The Mother, and do good works for Her Creation." It was a recitation, as taught in his classes.

"But few are chosen," said Antun softly, his heart full of love for the delicate young man sitting across from him.

"Yes, few. There have been thirty-three in our history, and now there are only two," said Nokai.

"There are four, my son," said Antun, and Nokai's eyes widened.

"We've not heard of any others besides the Empress of Meng-shi-jie and her daughter. Who are they?"

Antun explained, reciting what Abagai had just told him. Hira listened with interest, but remained silent, for she recognized that the true conversation was between her husband and son. Nokai seemed distracted at first, looking away from him, but when Antun described Yesui's idea for bringing new life to Lan-Sui, the boy looked at him with fierce attention.

"She's been here?" asked Nokai.

"Well, not really. She resides on Shanji, with her mother. Abagai says Yesui has been here. I suppose—"

"It is the spirit, the essence of a being that travels with the Mandughai. Only the body is absent, but the presence is all-seeing, all-knowing," said Nokai. His voice was soft, and reverent.

"You make her sound like a goddess," said Hira.

"She is. She can move mass in and out of the gong-shi-jie. She is The One we have awaited for thousands of years, and now she has come. She has come to Lan-Sui, and I—"

Nokai stopped himself, lips pressed tightly together, breathing quick. He put his hands to his face, and when he lowered them a serene smile was there. "She is the Mei-lai-gong, Father, the Empress of Light. The Mother has sent Her to us to give life to Lan-Sui. If She says it is to be done, it will be done. Blessed be The Mother. She has seen our plight, and sent The One to help us. Do not refuse Her offerings, Father. It will be done."

The boy leaned back in his chair, hands clasped over his chest in a prayerful attitude, while his parents stared at him in confusion.

"How many times has she come here?" whispered Nokai, eyes now closed.

"Yesui? I've only heard of the one time," said Antun.

Nokai laughed with delight, and clapped his hands. "Oh, there have been many other times. She is laughter, and sorrow. She is love, and anger. She is joy."

The boy stood up, still smiling at something beautiful in his mind. He leaned over the table to look closely at his father with moist, dark eyes, and said, "She is the Mei-lai-gong—and her name is Yesui."

And then he walked jauntily out of the room.

Antun looked at Hira with amazement. "What has gotten into that boy?"

Hira smiled, and reached out a hand to touch his. "He is sixteen, dear, and the body changes. Our son is in love with a dream."

Nokai paced his room, trying to still the pounding of his heart. He went out on his balcony to look out at the city lights, then up towards a black, steel sky. Tears came to his eyes, his hands clutching at the steel grating of the balcony like a trapped prisoner. He looked up at the blackness, and concentrated hard as if in desperate prayer, hoping that somehow he would be heard.

I have felt your presence so many times, but only now do I know who you are. Your presence here has brought me joy, and laughter, a feeling of connection to The Mother and a world I want to be a part of. Have you sensed the presence of this humble Sensitive? Do you know I even exist? I am not a telepath; I sense only feelings. How can I talk to you? How can I know you? 

When you come again, I will be ready. I will do the best I can, but first I will call out your name. Yesui—Yesui. I am Nokai. Come back to me. Please come back to me. 

He went back into his room, and got into bed. It was silent in the room, and his mind was quiet, with no visions, sounds, or foreign presences to disturb it. He quickly fell asleep, cheek pressed against a pillow that was soon moist.

"Yesui," he sighed, as sleep enveloped him.

Everyone stood when she and Kabul entered the room. Yesugen carried the thick document they'd studied the previous night, and placed it before her as she sat down.

"Sit," she said.

Besides the conference table, and walls covered with architectural drawings, the room was sparsely furnished with a few chairs for relevant guests to these meetings. One chair was now occupied by a man who seemed out of place, a man whom Yesugen would soon call on to support her position on the matters contained in the document being considered.

He was dressed in military blues, stretched tight over a broad, thick chest, and he sat rigidly at attention in the chair, his feet barely touching the floor. His red eyes glared straight ahead, moving ever so slightly to scan the faces around the table, and two tusks protruded slightly from a tightly pressed mouth. Ribbons of field campaigns adorned his chest, including the one in gold leaf for the battle of Shanji, and there was a huge scar along his left cheek from a wound taken there.

What could not be seen were the purplish scar tissues along his right thigh, tissues that still cracked and bled whenever he became too cold. They came from a day when a young woman with blazing emerald eyes had raised her arms on a distant planet, and brought forth a purple light that had reduced most of his battalion to dust and hot gas. Now he sat and waited for the call of the woman he, and others like him, regarded as the true Empress of Meng-shi-jie.

Yesugen thumped her fingers on the document, and said, "We have read this, and considered it carefully. Your figures seem to be accurate, and we cannot question the economic logic. We certainly agree that our continued presence at Lan-Sui is a drain on resources we can use for our own expansion. Where we disagree is on the political necessity of stabilizing the Lan-Sui system, and also on the kinds of resources needed for our expansion. If the revolt on Lan-Sui is allowed to occur, we risk losing future supplies of vital fuels, and I will not take that risk."

Ghazan scowled, and raised his hand to seek an audience.

"No," said Yesugen firmly. "Tonight you are here to listen, and nothing more." She glared at Ghazan, and saw Kabul also turn to frown at him. She probed their minds, saw nothing to indicate resentment against the man who now shared her power. It was Kabul they now sought out for private audiences, in hopes he could soften her stands during an intimate moment, and occasionally she allowed them success in doing it.

"I am, however, willing to make a compromise with you," she went on. "We have a better idea of what we're up against, now. The work of our migrant volunteers as moon laborers has been successful in isolating the location of the rebel leaders. They are on the moon Gutien, and Tokta Kuril is among them. I intend to take them all by force, if necessary, and until that is done we will not leave Lan-Sui. I anticipate a ground offensive to accomplish this, and the moon must not be destroyed in the process. Because of this, I'm willing to pull out all but two of our heavy ships, leaving only the flagship and a light cruiser. But the freighters and all ground forces will remain."

There were scowls all around the table, and muted grumbles.

"Listen to me!" she said, and it was quiet again.

"You cite the loss of expendable supplies in our watch over Lan-Sui. Most of these are involved with our heavy ship operations, and I'm giving them back to you. But when you suggest the use of our troops as hard laborers on Meng-shi-jie, our opinions diverge greatly. These men have but one purpose in life: the defense of Meng-shi-jie and all its allies. I need not recite the history of their deeds; you have learned it as children. And I will not speak further in their behalf. Instead, I have brought one of them to speak for all, a man whose proud line goes back to our first war of independence. He is Master Sergeant Yumzhagin Tsedenbol, a veteran of many campaigns, including Shanji, and twice decorated with our highest honor, the Order of Mandughai. Sergeant, if you would give us a few words, please."

Tsedenbol stood up, and walked to the far end of the table with a slight limp. He turned sharply and faced her, at a brace. Short, stocky arms rigidly at his sides, his eyes never left Yesugen's, and seemed to glow as he spoke.

"You are our Empress, our Commander, and our lives are yours to command. There are no families in our lives, no offspring, only the clones of our bodies who come after us. But when we are born, we have the memories of all who have gone before us, those who have fought bravely for the preservation of Meng-shi-jie."

At first, his voice had quivered with nervousness, but now, as he looked into Yesugen's eyes, it was a growl.

"I remember my death day in the first war of independence. I remember my foster mother pinning the Order of Mandughai on my chest when I was in hospital after the second war. And I remember being a man with one leg after the third war which finally rid us of Lan-Sui. Each night, I live those lives over in my dreams. I have fought the pirates. I have fought the rebellion against Mandughai the First. Both times I died in battle. Now, in this life, I bear the scars of battle against The One who comes from The Mother, and now She is our ally. That memory will be there when I come again.

"I am bred for war. I am a soldier. It is my purpose, my reason for being. My life is The Corps. Thirty-one of my bodies rest with comrades in one of the caverns you would turn into pleasure parks. Will we still be there when you're finished? Will you throw us away?"

He paused, and there was a horrible silence in the room. Everyone except Yesugen was looking down at the table in front of them.

"If my Empress orders me to take the spade and dig in the dirt, then I will do it. I will follow her orders and move the dirt, but inside of me I will be dead. I will no longer be a soldier, but a digger of dirt. My purpose will be gone and the brave memories of my line will end with me. I will be dead forever."

He looked at Yesugen now with terrible intensity, and what she felt inside him brought her near tears.

"I speak for all my comrades, Ma'am. We will follow your every command, but please don't do this to us."

A pause, and Yesugen let it drag on.

"Thank you, Sergeant," she finally said. "You may leave, but please wait outside for a moment."

He left. Kabul smiled faintly at her. The rest were still looking down at the table.

"Our troops will remain where they are. You will have to find others to build your pleasure parks," said Yesugen. "This meeting is adjourned."

All of them left without saying a word, or looking at her.

"They will be after me tomorrow," said Kabul.

"And you will listen to them," she said.

They left the room, and found Tsedenbol standing there. Yesugen went to him, leaned over and put her arms around him, holding him close, and whispering into his ear, "Brave soldier of mine, your memories are safe. Now you have a ship to catch, and good hunting!"

He grinned at her. "Thank you, Ma'am. You can rely on us!"

They left him standing there, still grinning, as they went to Yesugen's living quarters to prepare for bed after the long day. They undressed each other, saying nothing, and slipped naked into bed, Yesugen nestling against him, Kabul's arms going around her, hands stroking shoulders, arms, the swelling in her stomach that was still hidden when she was dressed.

"We'll have to do something about this soon," he said, patting her stomach.

"Mother will announce our marriage next week," she said. "I've reminded her twice, and now she's written it down. She's not well, Kabul. I worry about her."

His hand moved down her arm, and over to a breast. "She should stay inside more. The constant dust isn't good for a person her age."

"Then you tell her. She won't listen to me." Yesugen tilted her chin, and kissed him softly. "I think she deliberately put you into my life, you know. She's very fond of you."

"I'm in her debt," he said, and kissed her back, his hand moving again. "And I love her daughter with all my heart."

"As I love you," Yesugen murmured, and then she gave herself up completely to him again.