Read A Game of Universe for Free Online

better for us.
    Gustave slashed at Gilish, scoring the pirate’s forearm with a deep cut (and destroying the tattoo of a starship in flames). The young hero was fast.
    The pirate growled and took a pace back, bringing his own blade in line with his opponent’s breastbone. He lunged at Gustave, but his blow was parried by the smaller blade with a motion so swift it was only a blur of gold. Then a quick riposte nicked the pirate’s hand and scarred a leering skull of green ink.
    Gilish stepped back to reassess his opponent.
    A traditional opening sequence to test one another, Medea commented. My persona of Medea knew more about blades and combat than I could learn in a lifetime. The younger one is more proficient than the pirate.
    Unlikely, I told her. Gilish has twice his years and twice the skill. He’s toying with him.
    Gilish cut at Gustave’s head.
    Instead of ducking out of the way, the hero stepped into the cut, and reversed his grip on the blade so it lay braced along his left forearm. With his metal-reinforced arm, he parried the saber with a simple sweep. He then brought up his right fist and punched the pirate’s ugly face, busting Gilish’s lip and three intertwined emerald snakes.
    A snarl spread across Gilish’s features. Rather than stepping back and using his sword properly, he grabbed Gustave’s wrist, twisting his thumb and index finger into a painful lock.
    Gustave smiled. He was now inside the reach of Gilish’s saber with a proper close fighting weapon. With a twist of his free hand, he reversed the blade that lay against his forearm and skewered the pirate’s throat, impaling a lovely tattoo of a slave girl bound in chains.
    The green pirate turned white, dropped his saber, and fell to the floor.
    We should kill this hero Gustave from a distance, Medea whispered.
    Gustave’s smile vanished. He took two steps back and allowed the virtual Erybus to resolve on the projection pad (now tinged red with spilled blood).
    “Well fought, Mister Barbaroux,” Erybus said, “but that shall be enough violence for one evening. I suggest the remainder of you direct your energies to finding the Grail.” He stared directly at the hero, who bowed his head and retreated to his seat.
    “There is one last condition to this transaction. When you find the Grail, you must not drink from it. Doing so will ruin its pristine state. The wording of my release clause specifies that this incarnation of the Grail must remain untainted. Drink from it and there shall be no reward—and a most unpleasant penalty.
    “Now, if you have questions of a legal nature, feel free to consult with my solicitor.” He pointed to the back of the room. A middle-aged man with a pointed beard stood there, holding an alligator skin briefcase. The solicitor gave a nod, then opened the case and removed an armful of scrolls. Each one was tied with a black ribbon. He handed one to me.
    Omar whispered, “Listen, my friend. I offer you the opportunity to join me and others here. We have agreed to unite our efforts and increase our prospects to find this relic. We can cover more territory in less time. And should any of the others cross our path, they could be taken care of.”
    “Including me?”
    He shrugged.
    “What of the tiny matter of your immortal soul?”
    “You surprise me, Germain, being deluded by such superstitious nonsense.”
    “I shall consider, my colleague.”
    I untied the scroll, and inspected the screen of the disposable computer. It was a replication of parchment, yellowed, and the calligraphy characters were familiar to me, blood, dried to a crimson dark sheen. The index tab along the side listed thirteen sections, containing over a thousand pages of legal-speak. I thumbed to the escape clause, a blur of words and riders and paragraphs.
    Wait, the psychologist whispered. Go back, page five hundred three, please.
    I did.
    There, he said.
    “The party of the first part has the option to release the party of the second part