celebration, almost a poem to the honoured dead. For the young
actor, however, it was a
confusing, not to say unnerving experience, to find the dead man unexpectedly there,
in the seat of honour, watching the performance.
‘Do you understand why I had to kill the copy, Tao Chu?’
Tao Chu glanced quickly at Li Yuan, then looked back steadily at his uncle. ‘Not at
first, Uncle Ma, but Yuan explained it to me. He said you had to kill the guilt you
felt at Grandpa
Tiao’s death. That you could not be your own man until you had.’
‘Then you understand how deeply I revere my father? How hard it was to harm even a
copy of him?’
Tao Chu nodded, his eyes bright with understanding.
‘Good.’ He squeezed the boy’s shoulders briefly, then stood. ‘But I must thank you,
Tsu Tao Chu. You did well today. You gave me back my father.’
Tao Chu smiled, greatly pleased by his uncle’s praise, then, at a touch from Li Yuan,
he joined the older boy in a deep bow and backed away, leaving the T’ang to their
Council.
From the camera’s vantage point, twenty
li
out from the spaceship, it was hard to tell its scale. The huge sphere of its forward
compartments was visible only as a
nothingness in the star-filled field of space – a circle of darkness more intense
than that which surrounded it. Its tail, so fine and thin that it was like a thread
of silver, stretched out
for ten times its circumference, terminating in a smaller, silvered sphere little
thicker than the thread.
It was beautiful. Li Shai Tung drew closer, operating the remote from a distance of
almost three hundred thousand
li
, adjusting the camera image with the most delicate of touches, the
slight delay in response making him cautious. Five
li
out he slowed the remote and increased the definition.
The darkness took on form. The sphere was finely stippled, pocked here and there with
hatches or spiked with communication towers. Fine, almost invisible lines covered
the whole surface, as if
the sphere were netted by the frailest of spiders’ webs.
Li Shai Tung let the remote drift slowly towards the starship and sat back, one hand
smoothing through his long beard while he looked about him at the faces of his fellow
T’ang.
‘Well?’
He glanced across at the waiting technicians and dismissed them with a gesture. They
had done their work well in getting an undetected remote so close to
The New Hope
. Too well, perhaps.
He had not expected it to be so beautiful.
‘How big is it?’ asked Wu Shih, turning to him. ‘I can’t help thinking it must be
huge to punch so big a hole in the star field.’
Li Shai Tung looked back at him, the understanding of thirty years passing between
them. ‘It’s huge. Approximately two
li
in diameter.’
‘Approximately?’ It was Wei Feng, T’ang of East Asia, who picked up on the word.
‘Yes. The actual measurement is one kilometre. I understand that they have used the
old
Hung Mao
measurements throughout the craft.’
Wei Feng grunted his dissatisfaction, but Wang Hsien, T’ang of Africa, was not so
restrained. ‘But that’s an outrage!’ he roared. ‘An insult! How dare they flout the
Edict
so openly?’
‘I would remind you, Wang Hsien,’ Li Shai Tung answered quietly, seeing the unease
on every face. ‘We agreed that the terms of the Edict would not apply to the
starship.’
He looked back at the ship. The fine web of lines was now distinct. In its centre,
etched finer than the lines surrounding it, were two lines of beadlike figures spiralling
about each other,
forming the double helix of heredity, symbol of the Dispersionists.
Three years ago – the day after Under Secretary Lehmann had been killed in the House
by Tolonen – he had summoned the leaders of the House before him, and there, in the
Purple
Forbidden City where they had murdered his son, had granted them concessions, amongst
them permission to build a
actor, however, it was a
confusing, not to say unnerving experience, to find the dead man unexpectedly there,
in the seat of honour, watching the performance.
‘Do you understand why I had to kill the copy, Tao Chu?’
Tao Chu glanced quickly at Li Yuan, then looked back steadily at his uncle. ‘Not at
first, Uncle Ma, but Yuan explained it to me. He said you had to kill the guilt you
felt at Grandpa
Tiao’s death. That you could not be your own man until you had.’
‘Then you understand how deeply I revere my father? How hard it was to harm even a
copy of him?’
Tao Chu nodded, his eyes bright with understanding.
‘Good.’ He squeezed the boy’s shoulders briefly, then stood. ‘But I must thank you,
Tsu Tao Chu. You did well today. You gave me back my father.’
Tao Chu smiled, greatly pleased by his uncle’s praise, then, at a touch from Li Yuan,
he joined the older boy in a deep bow and backed away, leaving the T’ang to their
Council.
From the camera’s vantage point, twenty
li
out from the spaceship, it was hard to tell its scale. The huge sphere of its forward
compartments was visible only as a
nothingness in the star-filled field of space – a circle of darkness more intense
than that which surrounded it. Its tail, so fine and thin that it was like a thread
of silver, stretched out
for ten times its circumference, terminating in a smaller, silvered sphere little
thicker than the thread.
It was beautiful. Li Shai Tung drew closer, operating the remote from a distance of
almost three hundred thousand
li
, adjusting the camera image with the most delicate of touches, the
slight delay in response making him cautious. Five
li
out he slowed the remote and increased the definition.
The darkness took on form. The sphere was finely stippled, pocked here and there with
hatches or spiked with communication towers. Fine, almost invisible lines covered
the whole surface, as if
the sphere were netted by the frailest of spiders’ webs.
Li Shai Tung let the remote drift slowly towards the starship and sat back, one hand
smoothing through his long beard while he looked about him at the faces of his fellow
T’ang.
‘Well?’
He glanced across at the waiting technicians and dismissed them with a gesture. They
had done their work well in getting an undetected remote so close to
The New Hope
. Too well, perhaps.
He had not expected it to be so beautiful.
‘How big is it?’ asked Wu Shih, turning to him. ‘I can’t help thinking it must be
huge to punch so big a hole in the star field.’
Li Shai Tung looked back at him, the understanding of thirty years passing between
them. ‘It’s huge. Approximately two
li
in diameter.’
‘Approximately?’ It was Wei Feng, T’ang of East Asia, who picked up on the word.
‘Yes. The actual measurement is one kilometre. I understand that they have used the
old
Hung Mao
measurements throughout the craft.’
Wei Feng grunted his dissatisfaction, but Wang Hsien, T’ang of Africa, was not so
restrained. ‘But that’s an outrage!’ he roared. ‘An insult! How dare they flout the
Edict
so openly?’
‘I would remind you, Wang Hsien,’ Li Shai Tung answered quietly, seeing the unease
on every face. ‘We agreed that the terms of the Edict would not apply to the
starship.’
He looked back at the ship. The fine web of lines was now distinct. In its centre,
etched finer than the lines surrounding it, were two lines of beadlike figures spiralling
about each other,
forming the double helix of heredity, symbol of the Dispersionists.
Three years ago – the day after Under Secretary Lehmann had been killed in the House
by Tolonen – he had summoned the leaders of the House before him, and there, in the
Purple
Forbidden City where they had murdered his son, had granted them concessions, amongst
them permission to build a
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