A Game of Universe (29 page)

If we’re not spotted in the hall,
Fifty-five said,
and if the vault is even there, and if you can get in, then it’s a great plan; otherwise, I suggest you think of something else.

If you have a better idea?

Silence.

I thought so.
Still, he had a point. How would I get into the vault? It was sure to be locked, and it would take more than twenty seconds to open it. If I had the time, I could use the
Theorem of Malleability
again, disable the lock, and slip in. But preparing the mental construct would take too long.

Then use it before.
Fifty-five suggested,
or while you’re running.

It takes concentration to maintain the enchantment. Even walking is difficult.

Then let me do the running. I’ll get us to the vault while you get your magic ready. When we get there, I give you the reins and you do your stuff.

I knew I kept you around for something,
I said.

Fifty-five inhaled deeply when I gave him my body, tasting the air, while I submerged in total concentration. I had never unraveled my constructs without the corresponding mnemonics. The
Theorem of Malleability
was simple, however. Imagining I moved my fingers, the memories of a full year of intense study rose to a conscious level: Fermi surfaces, alloy mixtures, and the intricate electron dances that made metals metallic. The energies took shape.

Suddenly, I was back in my body, pulse pounding, heart beating fast, and a pale lavender flame dripping from my right hand.

Don’t look back!
Fifty-five cried.
Get us in.

The vault door loomed before me: a complicated puzzle lock, a wheel, and a timer. I thrust my hand into the alloy and groped for the locking mechanism. It was deep, half an arm’s length in, a magnetic clamp. I grabbed it and scrambled the perfectly aligned spins of the superconducting magnet. I heard a pop. Two turns of the wheel, I pulled the door open, slipped inside, then quickly shut it.

I held my breath and listened for alarms. Silence.

Too easy,
Fifty-five hissed.
Those orbs took longer than they should have. Maybe Quilp got on the ball and shut them off, but I’ve got a nasty feeling we’ve been set up.

You always have that feeling. We’ve made it. The Grail has to be here.
It had to or we were dead.

Squinting, I examined the vault. There were no footprints save mine. Ladders on tracks climbed four stories tall, and plastic lockers, browns and grays and blacks, appeared like layers of sediment in a canyon wall. Old light globes drifted along with motes of dust, and cast a dim light. An entire column of those who died at the rank of thirty-one stretched to the roof.

I turned the shadow skin off to save the batteries and mounted a ladder, finding Cassius’s name one third of the distance from the top. It was unlocked. Inside was a box that I removed and brought down.

The box wasn’t heavy, and that worried me. The Grail should weigh more. If it wasn’t here, I’d have to start over. I hesitated, afraid—then ripped the top off. Within was a bundle of letters wrapped with red ribbon, a bracelet of coral and amber, three data chips, a curved knife (which Osrick recognized), a jade Buddha the size of my fist, and at the bottom, a disposable database—but no Grail.

My heart turned cold. I was dead.

Read those letters and check that database,
the gambler said.
Don’t fold your hand yet. Wait for the last card.

I examined the database. Colors flickered on the display, bled into one another, and made a smear that was barely decipherable. It was the legend of a King who failed to find the Grail. Overcome with despair he took his life. The display stabilized then, a burst of power from its old batteries, and in the corner a seven-pointed star appeared, the trademark of the Morning Star Cartel. This was Erybus’s database, identical to the one I had. Cassius worked for him? Something was wrong.

Like I told you,
said Fifty-five.

I kept reading. The suicidal King had a son who took up his quest, and succeeded where his father failed. To honor his father, this prince cremated his body and placed his ashes within the Grail. He believed it would keep his father’s soul safe, keep it from going to Hell. Is that what Cassius thought? That if he—

Behind me, a sigh and a hum of power.

I spun around and saw a man step from the shadows. He held a pistol in his right hand, a blade in his left, and wore a shadow skin, but of a quality I had never seen before. It was part of the night, a black so deep it looked like space. His outline was only a blur, but his face was unmistakable. It was Gustave, one of the thirteen Grail competitors.

“Is it there, Twenty-one?” he asked.

Stunned to see the hero in the heart of Golgotha, I replied, “What?”

“The Grail,” he said and pointed to the box with his blade. “Is it there?”

How did he get here? And how did he know my rank, only recently advanced?

“I am certain you have many questions,” Gustave said, “which I shall answer. But please, first, gently remove the contents for me. And slowly. I have no desire to kill you, yet.” A blue light glowed inside his pistol’s barrel.

I upended the box and spilled the contents onto the floor. Gustave looked, then shook his head. “A pity. Please tell me then where the Grail is.”

I laughed. “It’s not here, and I don’t know where it is. A dead end for both of us.”

He frowned. “You are an extremely clever man, Germain. I shall not insult your intelligence by telling you that I can let you live. I do, however, have something of yours to bargain with.”

To the vault door he spoke: “Escort the lady in.”

Lady? Had he captured the princess?

The door swung open and the twin guardian orbs I had seen before drifted in. Between them limped Virginia.

She looked startled to see me, even more than I was to see her. Both her eyes were blackened, and the sapphires in their corner were cracked. Her uniform was ripped. Perforations marred her skin where microsurgeons worked on her. She was alive! I had to get her back no matter what the cost—even my soul. Osrick welled up within me; my feelings confused him, and made him believe this was his love, the princess, instead of mine. I suppressed the urge to rush Gustave.

“Germain?” She stepped forward.

Gustave stopped her with the tip of his blade and never took his eyes, or the aim of his gun, off me.

Stay cool,
urged the gambler.
If he sees you care about her, we’ll never be able to bluff.

Listen to him,
said Fifty-five.
If we can stall him long enough, Quilp and Lily will find us. When he blasts them, you can let Medea loose.

“I apologize for her condition,” Gustave remarked, “but it was unavoidable. Sister Olivia interrogated your pilot before I had the opportunity to rescue her. You know how her inquisitions can be.”

“You rescued her?” I asked, astonished. “You were at the Bren world?”

“I’m sorry,” Virginia said and started to cry. “I ran right into a patrol of those Red Guards. They made me talk. They had drugs, and probes. I let you down.”

Let me down? After what Celeste had me say? It was a wonder she didn’t join Sister Olivia’s side.

She possesses a borderline psychic talent,
the psychologist reminded me,
and a mind full of bioware. She may have guessed that when you spoke to her at the ball, you did so under duress. Or perhaps she loves you?

Shut up! You’re not making this any easier.

“You followed me?” I said, trying to engage Gustave in conversation, trying to stall until Lily and Quilp arrived. “No! You followed Olivia! She was there first.”

“Naturally,” Gustave replied. “Most of the Grail champions either followed you or Sister Olivia, the most knowledgeable among us. Frankly, I was surprised when you tipped your hand at Erybus’s gathering.” He paused, arched his brow, and whispered, “Unless it was a trap. You dispatched E’kerta and Omar with relative ease.” He tilted his head slightly. “My compliments, and my thanks for thinning the ranks.”

“How did you find me here?” I demanded. “Following Sister Olivia to the Bren world is one thing, but no one could have tracked the route I took to Earth.”

“Ah,” he said, “I planned to ask
you
about that. I received a transmission informing me you would come back to Umbra Corp, and that the Grail was here. Normally, I would dismiss such an anonymous message as a ruse, but this person convinced me he spoke the truth by telling me where
I
had been, and where
I
was going next. Curious, don’t you think? Quality information like that cannot be ignored. And the price was so slight, even if it was a bit bizarre. Still,” he hesitated and his brows knit together, “I would like to know who betrayed you, who aided me, and why.”

I knew we should have aced Quilp when we had the chance.
Fifty-five spat.

It wasn’t him,
I said.
But I’m beginning to get an idea of who it was.

“It is a mystery to me, too,” I lied to Gustave. I had to stall for more time, so I added, “But I can tell you this. We are both being manipulated. We’re not the only ones to go on this Grail hunt for Erybus. There have been others before. Erybus hasn’t told us the entire truth.”

Gustave nodded in agreement. “I must admit,” he said, “that I have also found discrepancies in Erybus’s information and his motives.”

“Then help me get to the bottom of this.”

He smiled. It was a wicked smile, no warmth, and for me, not a shred of hope. “No,” he replied. “I do not need to know everything to win. And I plan on winning. I plan on killing you, Germain.” He licked his lips, then added, “However, if you reveal to me all you know, then I shall allow your associates to leave unharmed. Otherwise, they shall perish with you.”

I gave him a blank stare. “Associates?”

“Quilp and a very attractive young lady? I hadn’t realized your tastes ran to children. They are inside Golgotha. To keep them with us this evening, I took the liberty of placing a legion of my personal guards outside. No one leaves without my blessing.”

“Your men? Here? I think that unlikely.”

“Only because we have not been properly introduced.” He took a short bow without lowering his pistol. “I am number Eight.”

“Impossible,” I started to say, but the word died in my throat. It
was
possible. How else could he be inside Golgotha waiting for me? He was one of us. He was on the Board of Directors.

“Poor Gustave,” he said, “the hero of the Colonus wars and beloved of millions, he died so my clients might prosper. The best heroes always seem to meet the worst deaths, don’t you agree? I use his appearance occasionally. It might surprise you how many places a hero can go, and how easily suspicion is avoided with a smile and wave of the hand.”

Number Eight, also called the Bleeding Rose, had served on the Board of Directors for the last century. His
Decepti Matriculations
were required reading for cadets. No wonder he dispatched Gilish the Green with such ease. Several lifetimes of experience, of subterfuge, and of combat were his. He outclassed me seven different ways and could kill me at his leisure, even with Medea.

He let us get in,
whispered Fifty-five.
I knew it was too easy.

“Now,” he said, and tightened his finger on the trigger, “you will tell me everything you know about the Grail. You have little choice, Twenty-one.” He turned the pistol to Virginia and his smile evaporated. “Tell me immediately. If you again attempt to stall me, then I shall kill this one.”

I couldn’t let her die. Not after losing her once already.

“Germain,” she whispered, “don’t let him win.”

Show your cards now and the game is over,
the gambler warned me.

Number Eight raised his pistol to Virginia’s head.

“Wait,” I said, “I’ll tell you. You know the Osrick legend?”

Don’t be a fool!
Fifty-five cried.
He’ll kill us as soon as you tell him.

“The Bren knight, yes.”

“He was the last to use the Grail. It was in his tomb.”

“Was?” He lowered the pistol slightly. “Where is it now?”

“An agent of Umbra Corp stole it fifty years ago. He died before he could sell it. He was then cremated, and if my guess is correct, his ashes were placed inside the holy vessel to protect his soul. If the Grail is anywhere, it will be downstairs, in the Hall of the Honored Dead. His name was Cassius, ranked Thirty-one.”

“Your cooperation is most welcome,” Gustave said and lowered his gun. “And now, being a man of my word, I must pay for the information that brought me here.”

He aimed his gun at Virginia’s stomach and fired.

A silver beam pierced her. Instinctively her hands clutched her abdomen. Her eyes opened wide in shock and locked with mine. Virginia slumped against the wall, then fell to the floor.

For a moment, I stood stunned, unable to believe what had happened. Osrick boiled and overflowed. Both my hands clenched into fists, and I took three steps toward Virginia’s murderer, intent on wringing the life from him. The psychologist spoke calming words, but they were burned away by my fury. The woman we loved had twice been taken away. It was too much to bear.

Twin dots of light, laser sights, appeared on my groin and abdomen, originating from his guardian orbs.

Number Eight’s grin reappeared, and he said, “I would not be so bold. My orbs will kill you before you touch a single hair of my person. It is shocking, Twenty-one, that this common woman evokes such a response from you. Where is your professionalism?”

“Fight me,” Osrick and I said together and we unsheathed my blade. “Give me the satisfaction of ripping your heart out.”

He appeared amused with our suggestion. “No one has challenged me, at least not openly, for a century. You understand that you have no chance of winning.” He scrutinized me, the way I held my knife, the placement of my feet, my balance. “Still, you may provide a bit of entertainment. And your death will be just as certain.”

He whispered a command to the orbs, and they retreated to the corners of the vault to watch. He then locked his pistol, set it down, and wiped his thumb across the edge of his curved knife. A brilliant blue sheen materialized on his golden blade.

That’s amyocyn,
Fifty-five whispered.
Don’t get any on you. It’s a blood toxin that makes you itch until it drives you crazy.

Medea then spoke:
This is my game, Germain. I’ll take over now.

Rationally, Osrick and I knew she was better suited for this task, but we wanted revenge for Virginia. We wanted Number Eight’s blood on our hands. Virginia was the only one since Abaris that I—I what? That I loved? Yes. Osrick mirrored my thoughts, grieving his own lost love: Princess Lily.