A Game of Universe (16 page)

“Skip ahead. Did he find the cup?”

“Yes Master, verbosity level four, I forgot; please forgive my prattle. After two years Sir Osrick found the magical chalice. Sadly, however, upon his triumphant return, he learned that another man, an alchemist prince, had discovered a cure for the princess’s ailment. They had been betrothed almost since the day he left. Outraged, Sir Osrick challenged the prince to a duel.

“The remainder of the legend is vague,” Setebos cautioned. “But it is told that while Sir Osrick readied himself for the duel, praying in the chapel, three men crept in and murdered him before he could fight the prince.”

I like the way this alchemist prince operates,
remarked Fifty-five.

“Three days later,” Setebos continued, “on the princess’s fifteenth birthday, the King declared a holiday to celebrate her coming of age and her wedding to the prince. It was then that Osrick’s ghost returned with the Cup of Regulus, appearing in the middle of ceremony. It is said he perverted the chalice’s great magical powers to curse the Bren for their lies and cowardly deeds.

“The kingdom turned into a swamp, the animals twisted into unnatural shapes, and the castle sank into the earth. Sir Osrick’s curse was so great, historians blame it for shattering the Bren planet some nine days later. The tale is recounted by a merchant who escaped the disaster in his vessel. The remainder of the population is assumed to have perished.”

“Shattered? The entire planet destroyed by Osrick and the Grail?”

“That is the claim, Master. Furthermore, the legend asserts the inhabitants of the castle remain trapped, buried in rock, and awaiting a hero to release them.”

With my limited education as a muse, I knew such an enchantment was technically possible. It had all the classic ingredients—one so consumed with vengeance he rose from the grave, and that part about a hero breaking the spell was all standard fare. Yet, to destroy an entire world. No wonder Erybus’s associates would trade his soul for the Grail. It contained fantastic powers—both to heal
and
harm.

“Please inform Captain Virginia to set a course to the Bren system. And tell her that I shall be resting until we arrive.”

“Yes, Master.”

“One more thing, Setebos. Alert me immediately if any transmissions are sent or if anyone attempts to enter my quarters.”

“As you desire.”

I took my pistol and set it on the reading table, then slouched deep into the leather chair. With a mantle of suspicion wrapped snugly around me, I slept.

A gentle chime broke my peace and Setebos announced: “Bren system in three minutes.”

I rubbed a century’s worth of grit from my eyes and stood. My bones creaked and joints popped. I went through my stretching routine until I was flexible. My watch flashed the time remaining: two hundred twenty-eight days.

For me, it had been three days. Traveling so fast, and squeezing in-between normal space, the
Grail Angel
was susceptible to Einstein’s special relativity. To the rest of the universe we left Golden City almost five months ago.

I must have been insane to sign Erybus’s escape clause. The remaining days were jewels, each one spent in place of my soul. And the competition was near. I was being watched, followed, and perhaps had a spy close to me. Anxiety gripped my gut and twisted. I chanted the secret mantras of the Corporation to calm my thoughts.

“And how long to Golden City at maximum velocity from the Bren world?” I asked.

“One day, three hours, seven minutes, relative time,” Setebos replied.

“How long nonrelativistically?”

“Fifty-one days, seven hours, forty minutes.”

Nearly two months.

Cheer up,
the gambler said.
We’re on a winning streak. Necatane’s dream looks like a square deal, and no one has tried to kill us for nearly a day.

Easy for you to say. You’re already dead.

On the bridge, I found Quilp playing chess with Setebos. His Blue Queen was in peril. She, the King, her Consort, and three Knights were pinned in their Castle. Setebos had his Red Knights and Cannon mounting an offensive.

“Bren system in twenty seconds,” Virginia said from the cockpit. Her double-star insignia flashed over an image of the ship’s compressed wave function. Our dimensions unfolded like a nightmare of origami in reverse.

“Good,” I said. “In between the first and third planet, you will find an asteroid field. Take us in.”

“Got it,” she replied. “Quilp, I’ll need you to watch for rocks on intercept courses.”

“I got a game going here.”

Setebos moved through his defenses, killed the Blue Consort, and pinned his Queen. “Draw?” he offered.

Quilp muttered to himself and switched from the game to displays, projecting a blue-white star encircled by a ring of silver into the air. The far side of this ring was a smooth continuous ribbon of white that sparkled with the dust of diamonds, but closer, it broke into countless rocks that lumbered and twisted in space. Amazing that Osrick did this all for the love of one woman. Somewhere in all that debris, two hundred thousand kilometers in diameter, was the Grail. I sensed my chances of finding it dwindle to the infinitesimal.

“Background radiation at point oh four,” Quilp said. “Safe for a week’s exposure.” He pounded his fist on the display crystal. “Something’s wrong with this thing.”

“Displays are fully operational,” Setebos told him.

“What is it?” I asked.

Quilp conjured a map, a million dots swimming in a slow circle. He touched an arc, and enlarged it to show velocity vectors, rates of rotation, and red and orange and yellow radiation counts. In the center was a black oval.

“This rock,” he said and stabbed the dark spot, “there’s radiation all around it, but nothing inside. Radiation can’t be held like that. If you use a force field, there’s an exponential drop-off. This is a solid wall.”

“A neutron star fragment?” Virginia suggested.

Quilp switched to the gravimetric display. “No,” he replied. “The rock has normal mass. Weird.” He scanned the EM bands, slowing when he reached the infrared. “I’ve got a collection of absorptions: hydroxyl and carbon-oxygen stretch. If I didn’t know any better, I’d say it has an atmosphere.”

“Get us closer,” I told Virginia.

The asteroid was pockmarked with craters, and one in particular caught my attention. Half in shadow, half in the sterile sunlight, it struck a familiar chord in my mind. It was a mouth, frozen open, mid-scream, its jagged edges like crumbling teeth. It was the first mouth from Necatane’s vision.

“Move us into the large crater,” I said, then recalled how easily those mouths swallowed each other, and swallowed me, so I added, “but be careful.”

Virginia took us in, whispering a prayer to Bloody Elisa, the patron saint of vacuum.

There was no bottom to the pit. It wound deeper into the rock, a gullet leading into a stomach.

“In?” Virginia asked.

“In,” I replied.

Three kilometers of twisting tunnels, so tight in parts, the
Grail Angel
barely squeezed through, and other portions large enough to maneuver a fleet. Quilp then looked up from the display and announced, “We’ve entered a chamber, roughly spherical. It’s seven kilometers to the back wall, and there’s another passage there.” A flick of his hands across the controls, then he said, “I’ve enhanced the image.”

Below was a valley lined with neat rows of trees, nude of all foliage and fruit. A road ran through the fields, up along the curve of the wall, and across the ceiling. There was a wagon overturned, a few broken walls, but no movement, and no life.

“The walls are sedimentary,” Quilp continued. “They show signs of erosion. Looks like the whole place was above ground once, but got sucked down here somehow.” Setebos added, “Residual radiation counts date the organic material at two hundred seventeen years.”

Over the curved land we drifted, toward a sinkhole that penetrated deeper into the asteroid. Rows of trees along the edge stood at precarious angles. From our perspective, they appeared as rows of shark teeth, and the hole looked like another mouth, the second mouth in Necatane’s vision. For a moment, I thought it might snap forward and devour the
Grail Angel.
It remained motionless however, opened in a mocking laugh, daring me to enter.

Virginia must have guessed my next order, because she said, “I’m not taking the ship down there. Looks too unstable.”

“You’re right,” I said, “set us down, and we’ll have a look on foot.”

She turned and asked, “We?”

“You wanted to come along, didn’t you?”

She removed the silver clover from her pocket, rubbed it once and frowned. “I suppose I did say that.”

The
Grail Angel
settled under one of the tall dead trees, raising a cloud of dust that briefly obscured our view.

“The atmosphere is breathable,” Setebos declared, “slightly high in oxygen, and a trace of methane.”

“Quilp,” I said, “see if you can scrounge any rope from the cargo hold.”

“You want me to go down that hole with you? Shouldn’t one of us stay behind to watch the ship?”

“We could be gone for some time.”

“Don’t worry about me.” He fingered an ampoule of amber colored fluid. “I won’t be bored.”

“Very well. Virginia, grab some rope, two lights, and bring an extra weapon if you have one.”

I left them, entered my quarters and secured the door behind me.

“Setebos, establish command lock, level alpha, and initiate voice print verification on all systems except life support. Also jam any signals originating within a seven kilometer radius of the
Grail Angel.”

“Done, Master.”

If Quilp was my spy, he’d be sending no information on our location this time. And if I didn’t come back, he’d be stuck here for a very long time.

Is that the only reason you’re leaving him behind?
Celeste inquired slyly.
Not to be alone with your pilot?

He’s not that stupid,
Fifty-five answered for me.
He’s testing to see which is our spy. If the competition shows up, then Quilp’s the rotten egg. If they don’t, then it’s the pilot. I still say ice them both.

It is not my intention to be alone with Virginia,
I replied,
nor do I intend to kill either her or Quilp. I just want to get the Grail and get out of here.

I hope so,
remarked Fifty-five,
or we’ll all be dancing on the wrong end of a pitchfork soon.

From my bags I removed a shadow skin with fresh batteries, my accelerator rifle and pistol, a new blue shield, the Grail database, and armor. The armor was a shirt of crystalline scales, each with a tiny magical rune of
Safekeeping
inscribed upon it. I slipped it over the shadow skin and let it form-fit the contours of my body. Its enchantments deflected energy away from me. Normal blades and projectiles just bounced off the alloy.

Next, onto the pad of my right hand, I sprayed on a tattoo. As the biopolymer dried, and the electronics within aligned, patches of color developed, and lights twinkled behind them. Ten seconds and the image resolved: a rose such a deep red it verged on blackness; its velvet petals glistened with dew. My skin grew cold when the tiny transceiver ran through its diagnostic.

“Setebos, please lock onto my signal.”

“I shall be listening, my Master.”

And one more thing. Abaris taught me a bit about the unliving. Silver seemed to work best at keeping such creatures as ghosts and vampires at bay, or did that only work with werewolves? I didn’t recall. In any event, if Osrick lurked in that hole, I’d be prepared for him. I slipped three bars of silver into my belt pouch, ammunition for the accelerator pistol.

Virginia waited in the air lock. She had two carbon-arc lanterns, a coil of rope, and wore her lucky four-leaf clover around her neck.

I opened the hatch and got a blast of frigid air in my face, the scent of smoke, dust, and the ionization from the hull of the ship. I turned up the heating elements within my armor. “Setebos, external lights to maximum please.”

Stepping down, I discovered the earth was red clay covered by ash. Virginia and I marched away from the
Grail Angel,
and left a trail of crimson dots behind us. Quilp didn’t say good-bye, but I heard the hatch slam shut. I almost felt sorry for Setebos, leaving him alone with the creep.

Beyond the limits of our lanterns there was solid blackness and a stillness that defied quantification. On my left was a plow stuck in the soil, mid-furrow, with no trace of the farmer who had used it. On my right, a road ran into the yawning hole. We followed the road until it forked. A signpost marked the paths: one arrow pointed at the wall, the other tilted straight down.

I set my lamp aside and allowed the ocular enhancer to uncoil from my memory. The cavern exploded with light. Far from us, the remains of a city stood, broken towers and buildings that arched up along the curving walls of the cavern until they cracked and crumbled from the strain. The skeletons of trees and shrubs clung higher up, and on the ceiling, stuck upside-down, were the foundations of houses. And again, I saw myself, three other Germains, translucent, two near to the
Grail Angel,
and one already by the edge of the hole, cautiously peering over the edge. They started to fade, faster than when I saw them on Delphid, but before they disappeared entirely, I glimpsed two other
Grail Angels,
one next to ours, and another that hovered over the hole. The images then evaporated.

It was unnerving to see them. It was like looking into a mirror and having the reflection move of its own accord. The ocular enhancer was most powerful when first released. Somehow I must be seeing … what? They were definitely me. If they were echoes in time, duplicates of our wave function, why did they vanish? Why weren’t they real?

Virginia interrupted my mystery, and asked, “Why did you change your mind and bring me?”

The psychologist whispered,
Tell her the truth. Admit that you have unresolved feelings for her. Admit that you want to be with her.

Tell her the truth?
Fifty-five hissed.
Tell her that we brought her because we don’t trust her? Are you crazy?

“You’ve saved my life twice,” I replied. “You’re good at this sort of thing.” I halted and turned to face her. “Have you ever considered a change in careers?”