LotS/The Story/A Masterful Stratagem/Imperial Palace
Imperial Palace
"The imperial palace in Lanjin Cheng might best be described as palatial. After all, that's sort of what the adjective is for.
But if one wishes to go beyond that, the magnificent edifice -- which any subject or tourist may gaze upon from the beyond the gates -- brings to mind the glories of ancient China. It's as though the entire building were lifted from the days of legendary heroes and long-dead rulers, hurled across the galaxy, and implanted upon this so distant world.
It's small wonder that so many people will travel the length and breadth of human space simply to look upon it, and marvel at the echoes of human civilization."
-- Vagrant's Guide to the Cosmos
You insist that Ragnar bathe himself in the lake to remove the stinking serpent innards from his flesh. He does so begrudgingly, before drying himself through the simple expedient of activating some of his cybernetic augmentations -- heating his body up until the water evaporates from his muscles in tendrils of steam.
The rain has died along with the monster, the violent storm perishing -- its fury spent in but a short time. The last lingering drops of its life have fallen by the time you arrive at the palace wall and are reunited with the others.
"Now we get to the difficult part," Lupin says.
Ancient Chinese Secret
"This passage will be the key to your success," Wu Tenchu said.
You and your companions had assembled in Wilex's private workshop, a chamber with walls covered in curious sketches, unfathomable technical diagrams, and a myriad illustrations of robots that ranged from comical silver boxes on legs to androids exquisite in their complexity.
The mandarin's finger traced a circle around part of the holographic image of the palace's plans, causing a glowing ring to come into being there.
"These plans..." you said. "They're different from the ones I studied in the embassy. That passage wasn't there."
"I drew these diagrams myself," Master Wu replied, "to provide you with a more... accurate... copy."
"It's a secret passage!" Telemachus said.
"Precisely. Built by the edict of the First Emperor, by servants upon whose silence he knew he could rely."
"An escape route, for when the peasants decided to revolt?" Lupin asked.
Wu Tenchu's eyes narrowed.
"It was constructed to provide the Emperor with a covert egress, a way he might leave the palace unnoticed by his advisors and bodyguards. He wished to move among his people, to see and hear things from which a ruler would normally be isolated."
"The First Emperor's writings speak of this," Lu Bu said. "They refer to him walking the streets in disguise."
"Subsequent rulers did likewise," Wu Tenchu replied. "And this passage is what made it possible."
"Did you know about it?" Telemachus asked, looking at Princess Illaria.
"I knew there was a secret passage somewhere in the palace," she replied, "but I didn't know where."
"I believe the secret is contained within your father's private documents, to come into your possession upon your ascension to empress."
"Then how, if I may be so bold, did you come to learn about it?" Lupin asked.
A flicker of emotion crossed the mandarin's face, one you'd never seen there before. It dawned on you that he was embarrassed.
"I once found myself wandering the gardens at night, ruminating over a political problem which had recently proven very vexing. I saw the Emperor in the distance, moving in most curious manner. He was winding his way among the trees as though seeking to escape observation. He hadn't noticed me, and so..."
"You followed him?" you asked.
"I..." The mandarin bowed to the Princess. "Forgive me, Highness. I was a young man at the time, and curiosity got the better of me. Though I had no right to pry, I-"
Illaria gestured with her hand, dismissing the advisor's qualms. Her eyes were bright, eager to hear this secret which might help bring about her father's freedom.
"I watched him approach a remote part of the palace, far away from the entrances I had expected him to head towards. He pressed a button which was concealed amongst the elements of a sculpture..."
The sad remains of a stone dragon stretch along the wall, its body smashed and broken by cruel, unthinking blows. Its eye, dull and scarred, regards you as though in query -- asking why such a fate has befallen it.
"It was child's play to find the button," Lupin says. "Notice how this part of the sculpture hasn't broken away, like the bits around it?"
The thief points towards a little piece of stone that once made up a segment of the creature's tail.
"It was almost certainly fashioned at a later date and from a different material -- something much hardier -- though it was made it look and feel exactly like the bit it was replacing. It survived whatever careless vandalism damaged its surroundings."
He reaches out, and applies his fingers to the stone in a series of quick and curious taps.
"A simple blow wouldn't have triggered it. Quite clever, these ancient devices."
The dragon's eye shines, filled with a blazing light as though rejuvenated. A beam pours from the orb, widening to create a rectangular holographic display. Just as Master Wu told you it would.
A grid fills the projection, a series of flashing squares containing glowing Chinese characters. The symbols are ephemeral, each disappearing every second -- its place in the grid usurped by a new character which comes into being before it too vanishes and is replaced.
"Now comes the bad news," Lupin says. "I can't seem to hack into it, either to forcibly solve the puzzle or to simply open the door it's securing. Never seen a system quite like it."
"I thought you could break into anything?" Talia says.
"Apparently I'm not quite so utterly perfect as I had hitherto imagined."
"The First Emperor may have designed it himself," Wu Tenchu says in your ear. "He was a brilliant man."
You stifle the coming sigh, unwilling to let your companions see how troubled you are by this turn of events. Like Talia, you hadn't counted on this ancient puzzle baffling Arthur Lupin's mischievous hands and mind.
"It's just three letters, right?" Ragnar asks. "That's what he said."
"You are correct. I saw our present Emperor press three of the characters to secure his entrance. But I was too far away to see which they were."
"Why don't we just guess? How many combinations could there be?"
"Approximately 2,544,241,305,982,021,632,000," Lu Bu says, "if the order is significant and the same character may be used multiple times."
"Oh..."
"The characters he chose may not be random," Illaria says. "I've read most of his writings. Emperor Daedun Qin liked to see meanings in things."
You nod your head, then add a verbal agreement when you realize that you're standing behind Lu Bu -- meaning that she can't see the gesture through his eyes. She's quite right. The First Emperor would likely have chosen words which had some significance to him.
"Try this..." the Princess continues. "Honor, courage, tranquility."
Yes... The three characters which appeared on his personal seal...
Your eyes scan the shifting display, your hand poised. Your fingers dart out when you glimpse 'honor'. The square freezes in place, your chosen character remaining motionless as its brethren continue to cycle through the ten iterations which appear to elapse before they return to the start once more.
Talia's hand is quicker than yours, capturing 'courage' before it escapes. This too becomes still, a second island of calm in a turbulent lake.
Your own touch strikes 'tranquility'. It halts, the character lingering after being touched just like the others.
"We did it!" the Princess whispers. "I-"
The three stagnant characters flash once. Then they vanish -- falling back into the cycle of appearance and disappearance.
"We should find another way in," Kess says. "They may be more heavily secured, but..."
"Wait," you reply. "Give me a moment..."
First Emperor's Test I
Something niggles at you. There's a sensation at the back of your mind, like an insect crawling across the surface of your brain. You know, with an inexorable though inscrutable certainty, that you can find the answer -- that the knowledge you seek is locked in the inner recesses of your subconscious.
You close your eyes.
Words and images dance across your thoughts, weaving an incandescent tapestry -- the likes of which you've seen once before. Yes...
Your eyes flick open. Your hand moves.
Blue.
The character pauses in response to your touch, waits and judges.
Dragon.
This one freezes in turn, and stares at you along with its companion like the second half of a pair of eyes.
Ancestor.
There's a frozen second, in which success and failure, destiny and doom, dance upon the lap of the gods.
Then the holographic display vanishes. The dragon's eye is left blind and bitter once more. And part of the wall caves inwards -- retracting and swinging on silent hinges to open your path into the palace.
"How did you do that?" Illaria asks.
"I... I don't know."
Your companions give you strange looks, but they ask no more questions. Instead you all pass into the unveiled corridor.
A short stretch of passage, framed by walls decorated with elaborate paintings of dragons akin to the once grand sculpture outside, culminates with a glowing barrier. Its golden energy casts its illumination upon the walls, and shrouds all of you with a light aureate veneer.
Ragnar pulls his trigger. His weapon spits out a single bullet.
It hits the gold barrier with a fizz. Then it disintegrates.
"Your First Emperor was an interesting fellow," Lupin says.
He crouches down, and begins inspecting a portion of the floor which seems no different from any other. The thief looks from side to side, then up at the ceiling.
"Pressure triggered," he says. "And I don't believe it's a trap."
He taps the floor with one of his sticks.
A golden form, the same shade as the barrier which blocks your entry deeper into the palace, materializes before you. It's the hologram of a man, dressed in ornate robes. His face and garb are both familiar to you, though you've only seen them in pictures and holo-vids.
"Emperor Daedun Qin!" Princess Illaria says.
"Ah," Lupin says, "a riddler. I've come across these before."
"Yes..." Wu Tenchu says. "When one triggers them they ask a question, the answer of which should in theory only be known to the one who programmed them -- whose image they bear."
"They fell out of favor a long time ago," Lupin says. "People thought they were a bit too unnecessarily theatrical."
He turns to Lu Bu.
"I believe you're something of an expert on imperial protocol."
"You're correct."
"How would an emperor of his era have greeted himself?"
The robot steps forward, bows, and speaks a greeting in Chinese. The simulacrum of Daedun Qin returns the gesture. Then he speaks, his holographic lips moving as a voice emerges from some hidden recess.
"What color are the eyes?" he says, speaking the words in an elegant, regal strain of the Sian Empire's cultural tongue.
First Emperor's Test II
"Orange," you reply.
The hologram bows.
"He spoke to you in Chinese," Lupin says. "But you replied in English."
"There isn't a word for 'orange' in Chinese. Not exactly, anyway."
"The First Emperor mentioned orange eyes in the most obscure of his writings," Wu Tenchu says. "You're familiar with that text?"
"No. I just knew."
The holographic man shifts, altering his position -- lowering his center of gravity and raising his hands. He's adopting a fighting stance.
"A martial test?" Wu Tenchu says.
Talia's pistols whisper. Two laser beams penetrate the hologram's head -- leaving a soft ripple in their wake -- pass beyond, and strike the barrier behind him with a gentle fizz.
"It was worth a try," the gunslinger says.
"I suggest the application of close-quarter violence," the mandarin suggests. "Contact with the hologram may-"
"Finally!" Ragnar says.
The Niflung charges. Daedun Qin drops low and sweeps his foot round -- kicking Ragnar's legs out from under him. He growls as he crashes against the wall.
"Interesting..." Wilex says. "There are holographic devices which transmit energy through the projections -- making them feel solid. But those usually have some sort of base unit attached to them."
"You sure it wasn't psychosomatic?" Talia asks.
"If that means he kicked my legs out, then yeah," Ragnar says. "But he won't get away with that a second time..."
The Niflung hurls himself at the hologram, his arms swinging through the air as though to take hold of him. Once more a collision with a wall and a frustrated growl ensue, as the First Emperor slips away, darts behind Ragnar, and strikes him in the back of the neck.
"Let me try!" Telemachus says.
He lunges. The Daedun Qin sidesteps, before lashing out with a thrust kick. A moment later the prince is lying next to the Niflung.
"He's fast," Lupin says.
"Thanks," Ragnar growls. "I hadn't noticed..."
"But I'll wager that I'm faster."
The thief darts towards the hologram, his sticks weaving a blinding pattern of attack and defense -- almost too rapid even for your fighter pilot's eyes to follow. But the First Emperor's arms are quick as well, and his hands or forearms deflect each strike.
"Maybe a bit of lateral thinking," Talia says.
She slips behind the hologram. Lupin quickens his attacks even further, no doubt understanding the gunslinger's attention and seeking to ensure that Daedun Qin's attention is on him.
Talia lunges.
The hologram moves in a blur of light. Talia flies in one direction as a fist catches her, Lupin in another when he bears the brunt of a kick.
"He's too fast," Kess says.
"Too fast for me," Lupin concedes, nursing his nose.
"Too fast for anyone. Watch."
The assassin walks towards the First Emperor. She swings her leg at him in a slow, precise roundhouse kick. He blocks her shin with his forearm, and drives his fist into her stomach.
She gives a soft grunt. Then she steps towards him once more. This time she lashes out with a punch, her arm moving with the lethal speed of a striking cobra. Again there's a block, a retaliation, and a stagger.
"See?" she says, turning to you. "All his responses are a little faster than the attacks that trigger them."
"Then beating him is impossible," Illaria says.
"Unless we cheat," Ragnar replies. "What if we surround him?"
"That can't be the solution," Lu Bu says.
"He's right," Wu Tenchu agrees. "Generations of lone emperors have used this passage. They could hardly have relied on such a stratagem."
"What're you thinking, captain?" Talia asks, seeing the look of contemplation on your face.
Master of the Empire
"I'm thinking that if I were an emperor, and I wanted to go in and out of the palace whenever I pleased, I wouldn't want a brutal fight on my hands each time. So I don't think this is about fighting hard and winning."
"Go on, captain," Master Wu says. There's a distinct note of pleasure in his voice, that of a great thinker wishing to explore a worthy train of thought. It heartens you to hear it.
"This hologram is here to stop anyone who isn't an emperor from entering the palace. Illaria..."
"Yes?"
"Did your father ever teach you any martial arts techniques?"
"Yes!" There's elation in her voice, almost a laugh. "There was a kata he taught me, when I was a little girl. Then on my eighteenth birthday we went through it again, before he gave me my present."
"Lu Bu, if she performs it in front of the terminal she's at, would you be able to repeat her movements?"
"I would."
Several moments pass in silence, and in your mind's eye you imagine Illaria's slender form slipping through a series of martial motions, the dance of a warrior princess.
"That's it," she says.
"Then allow me to try..." Lu Bu replies.
The robot steps towards the hologram. He punches. The First Emperor blocks and returns the blow. Lu Bu engages the arm in a circular parry...
The sequence is short. As you suspected, a man wishing to return to his chambers after a night walking the city streets wouldn't be in any mood for heavy athletic exertion. A short sequence, but each attack and defense arranged in a certain specific order and fashion.
Lu Bu's open palm strikes Emperor Daedun Qin on the chest -- a blow the hologram makes no effort to dodge or block. The moment it strikes home, the First Emperor vanishes. So does the barrier.
Though he never had a chance to navigate the secret passage himself, only ever saw its external entrance, it didn't take Master Wu long to determine its path. The cunning mandarin, studying plans and engaging in surreptitious examinations, was able to predict its twists and turns with incredible accuracy.
When you pass through the door at its terminus -- waiting until Lupin has given the all clear -- emerging into a small chamber within the Emperor's personal quarters, you find yourself exactly where he said you would.
Once more the hallmarks of Centurian occupation are here. Vases have been smashed, paintings defaced -- the ruins left strewn around the chamber as though the knowledge and remembrance of their destruction is more valuable than their total absence would be.
As the thief promised, there are no new security measures here. The room contains no cameras or other such devices. No emperor would have wanted to have the secret passage revealed thus to the guardsmen watching the monitors, or for that matter have allowed such probing eyes elsewhere in his innermost sanctum. And it seems that the Centurians have made no effort to further secure this portion of the palace.
"Done," Lupin's voice says within your aural implant a short time later. "The Emperor is where he should be, and the security systems between you and the cell won't pose a problem. But there are a few guards and patrols which we'd do well to be rid of. If I may have Miss Kess' assistance?"
Artemis slips away, following the instructions whispered into her ear.
The rest of you make your way along the route seared into your memories through hours of study and simulation.
The palace's cells aren't far from the Emperor's quarters, placed close enough for private nocturnal conversations and the like. For these chambers of incarceration, each of which is akin to a miniature suite, were kept for special prisoners -- not lowly robbers, rapists, and murders. It isn't long before you reach the passage onto which they open, and walk its length with excitement building in your breast.
There are corpses strewn across the floor, bearing the mark of Kess. A single neat, fatal thrust or slash has taken each of them -- and you can imagine the assassin dancing from victim to victim without pause.
A series of empty cells drift by on your left. Apparently no other captive of the Centurians was deemed important enough to be housed here. And then you find yourself before the glowing bars of the Emperor's gilded cage.
The Princess gives a little gasp of joy.
The room is as you saw it in the transmission from Councilor Dule which spurred you to these lengths. It's a beautiful chamber, decorated with ornate screens, elaborate vases, and sumptuous paintings -- these undefiled, unlike those you saw before, no doubt in mockery of the crimson-robed man within.
He kneels upon its floor, his eyes closed as though in meditation. Kess must have killed with remarkable proficiency not to have alerted him to her passage.
"Your Majesty..." you say.
His eyes flash open. Then they widen. In the same instant the coating of energy slips away from the bars which separate you, like a series of blades withdrawing into their sheaths.
"Cracked it," the thief whispers. "Be with you soon."
The Emperor rises to his feet.
"Captain [Name]?"
You bow.
"Father!" the voice comes from Lu Bu, but it's hers. And the elation which fills that simple word is glorious.
"Illaria? You're..."
"I'm safe."
"I didn't know what had become of you..."
"I'm with friends. And Rhapsody is going to bring you to me."
Lupin and Kess appear at the other end of the corridor. They approach you at a quick jog. Blood and satisfaction are splashed across her face, a contented smile across his.
"Couldn't get hold of the key for the cell," the thief says. "But it shouldn't take long to pick the lock now that the energy's been deactivated."
"Move," Ragnar says. "I can break it open."
"I wouldn't do either. Not unless you want your precious ruler smeared all over you."
Commander Veck
The man's voice came from the rear wall of the cell. There are two doors there. But it didn't seem to emerge from behind either... Your gaze comes to rest on the little space of wall between them, and the thing which adorns it.
"Yes, captain -- the painting."
"He can see us," you hiss via your implant. "I thought you dealt with the cameras!"
"I did!" the thief replies.
One of the painted tiger's eyes glows a deep and murderous red.
"My own private camera," the voice says. "And that's not all. There's an explosive device concealed here as well. One just powerful enough to blow the Emperor into quivering chunks."
There's a collective intake of breath, the sound of despair filling all of your lungs. Wu Tenchu curses under his breath. Ragnar growls. The Princess issues a subdued groan.
Your mind starts to work, to calculate and evaluate. Could Ragnar smash through the wall of the cell from the one next door? It worked in training... The internal walls here aren't much tougher. If he secured an entrance, could the Niflung's powerful body shield the Emperor from the blast? What of Lupin? If you buy a little time, could he disarm the bomb remotely somehow? And if this Centurian has seen you, does that mean others are already converging towards your position?
A hundred plans and a millions dooms fill your head, an overwhelming tide that threatens to wash your consciousness away. Need to keep him talking... Give yourself and the others long enough to formulate a plan...
"Your superiors won't thank you for killing the Emperor," you say. "Without him as their hostage, there's nothing to stop the Princess from pressing forward with the preparations for a full-scale liberation of Sian. Perhaps even an attack on Alpha Centauri..."
The man laughs. A powerful, unsettling bark of laughter.
"To hell with them and their orders! This is between the two of us. I want you, captain. You and me -- single combat. No interference from my squads or your companions."
"You're crazy."
"Then come kill the madman. Ten seconds to decide, before I trigger the alarms."
"Where are you? Tell me, and I'll be there."
"The blue gallery. The way is clear. Your friends made sure of that."
"I'm on my way," you say. You look to the others, and speak the next words inaudibly. "If I don't come back..."
"We'll do whatever it takes to get him out of here," Talia replies.
You head down the corridor, making for a place you know well -- the long chamber lined with carved pillars, where you and the Princess first walked alone together.
"Don't worry, Highness," you say. "When have you ever known me to lose a fight?"
"Be careful..."
The Centurian was right -- Kess and Lupin did their job well. Soldiers with slashed throats mark the path the assassin took, clearing out all the patrols which might have come upon you. But time is of the essence now... The longer you're delayed, the more chance there is that someone will find the bodies.
Two more corpses rest in the gallery's doorway, lying atop one another like sleeping lovers.
You step over them, into the dimly lit chamber.
An armored form stands at its far end, a warrior dressed in the grim metal panoply of the Centurians' elite shock troops. Two orange eyes smolder in the leonine visage of his helmet. Bright blue crackles around the long claws that extend from his left hand -- throwing a soft electric illumination over his dark body.
He walks towards you and you towards him, like courtiers preparing to exchange introductions and pleasantries.
"Captain Rhapsody," he says. "You're the one who beat Rautha."
"At least half a dozen times, I think. After the last one I kept his head. He was becoming annoying."
You take his measure as the two of you advance, watching his movements -- judging the shifting of his weight.
"I saw you fight in Twisted Steel. You're good. Maybe the best. That's why I knew I had to face you -- so I could finally find someone worth my time."
You begin to circle one another, warriors' minds conceiving strategies and plotting destruction.
"Just be glad I'm going to kill you. Otherwise your masters would have you executed for arranging this little thing."
"My 'masters' are dishonorable wretches. They can burn for all I care."
The venom in his words takes you aback. But there isn't time to contemplate this Centurian's grievances. He has to die...
The three blue blades of your enemy's claw slash at you, a sweeping attack that would tear your skull in half if it connected.
If.
A back-step sends the malevolent blades on an impotent arc instead, dancing through the air in front of your face -- leaving trails of brightness across your vision. It's a powerful attack, the kind which can never be made without consequences. You don't give him time to recover from it.
You grasp hold of his forearm, seizing the thick metal casing from which those brutal blades project -- careful not to let their energy touch you, knowing that even the backs of the weapons are lethal enough with those crackling sheaths around them. You pull the limb against your chest, driving your weight against the elbow joint -- allowing you to control his arm in spite of its strong muscles and heavy armor. A backwards kick from your right boot puts him off balance, a small sweep just strong and timely enough to knock his foot out from under him -- causing him to fall forward, putting his arm even further into your power.
The limb extends in your grip, dragged into a straight arm lock. You throw your legs out, dropping your entire mass onto it. The Centurian hits the ground with a dull, metallic thud and a cry of pain. And the arm is still yours...
You work your fingers into the clasps of the metal sleeve attaching the weapon to his forearm, leaning your weight onto his shoulder until he can't do anything but struggle as you yank it free.
You turn, his stolen weapon clutched in both hands. He rolls over, moves to defend himself. But it's too late. You drive the claws down into his chest. Their glowing blades smash through his armored shell with a soft crunch, and slip into the vulnerable body beneath.
The Centurian gasps. It's a frantic noise, and at first you take it to be the frustration of a man snatching in vain at the departing threads of his life. Then you see that he's trying to gesture to you, beckoning.
You bring your head close to his, curious to hear what dying words he wishes to utter. But there's only the frothing splutter of lungs filled with blood, and then silence.