V. Moody's Blog, page 17

Book 2 – 89: Lady Eats Tiger

Third Quadrant.

Asteroid Tethari.

Asteroid Inner Core.

 

Figaro had been taught to maintain control over his body and mind in extreme conditions. He could recognise his environment, the approximate geography and physical conditions, even when blindfolded and disoriented.

He could calm his breathing and lower his heartbeat in the most strenuous of circumstances, enabling him to isolate his senses and identify the tiniest details in his surroundings.

His tutors had put him through severe training, more akin to torture, to heighten his ability to read and analyse any terrain using whatever limited form of detection was available to him.

Touch, smell, sound, fluctuations in electrical impulses, the tastes of differently proportioned air — he had extensive schooling in how to make the most of all of his senses.

He had no idea where he was right now.

Alone in the vast darkness and moving towards something, that was about all he knew for sure.

He wasn’t falling and he wasn’t flying. His trajectory wasn’t downwards, although it was in the direction his feet were pointing.

He was aware of movement, of rushing in a distinct direction, but other than that he was blind and felt nothing.

PT had picked him up and sent him into an opening he had seemingly created in the Intercessors’ stronghold. An act that required PT to exert a profound level of influence on a domain under the control of an alien power for thousands of years, or an indication that the Intercessors had yielded their control for reasons of their own.

The force that had enveloped him and pushed him into the opening was now gone, as was any indication that PT’s influence was still present.

The force now controlling his movements came from below or beyond or whatever the direction was. Figaro had no way of affecting it. He was at the mercy of whatever was now directing his motion through the darkness.

PT had said there was an area hidden from his sight at the very centre of the asteroid and he assumed that was where he was headed. It was a big assumption considering how many times the asteroid had upended his expectations.

There were many intelligences vying for control here and they were all far more proficient at it than he was. He was well aware of how foolish it was for him to try and play these old masters at their own game, his father included.

But his father was here.

Figaro had stopped relying on what the sensors in his suit had been telling him, or what those who were vying for mastery of the asteroid wanted him to believe.

There was one place in the asteroid that PT could not see, and there was no sign of his father anywhere else.

Another trick, another deception? Possibly. Figaro was learning how easy it was to be fooled, and the lessons kept coming.

One of his earliest memories was the riddle of the Lady and the Tiger. An old fable about a criminal given the chance to earn his freedom by choosing one of two doors.

Behind each door there was either a lady or a tiger. One he would marry and be set free, the other he would be killed and eaten.

On each door was a sign, one true, one false. A simple logic puzzle to deduce what was behind each door. But that wasn’t the lesson of the story.

If you are given the option of two doors to choose from, know that there are always more than just two doors. They are hiding the others from you.

If one option seems much better than the other, know that both options benefit them and neither benefit you.

And if one option is death in the mouth of a tiger, then both doors will contain tigers, no matter what their signs tell you.

How to solve this thought experiment had consumed many hours of discussion with his tutors. But his tutors hadn’t taken one thing into account.

The Antecessors, the Intercessors, the Central Authority and the Seneca Corps, even his father, they might be able to carefully manoeuvre Figaro into thinking what they wanted. Trick him into choosing the path they wanted him to take — those sorts of manipulations had been familiar to him throughout his life and avoiding them was a fruitless task.

But this was different. This wasn’t Figaro having to choose between two options, both of which were planted to produce the same result, neither to his advantage. This was a path chosen by Ubik. And Ubik was immune to the whims of others. No matter how subtle, no matter how coercive.

Ubik would find a way to open both doors.

Tigers don’t like each other. And if you happen to be wrong and one door does have a lady behind it, then a tiger eating a girl isn’t eating you. Either way, new plans would need to be made.

Figaro had faith in Ubik. He had faith that no one had prepared for him. You couldn’t threaten him, you couldn’t extort him, you couldn’t bribe him.

When presented with an option that would give him what he wanted, cost him nothing, protected his interests and punished his opponents, Ubik wouldn’t even consider it as one of his top three choices.

There was no more stark example of this than Ubik creating a way to take over the Intercessor network and then putting PT in charge of it. Ubik simply had better things to do with his time.

Now PT had access to everything the Antecessors and Intercessors were fighting over, giving him the ability to see everywhere they could. Something he could never have done on his own, so there was never any reason to prepare a contingency for such an eventuality.

For Ubik, the lady and the tiger were just prospective partner and pet. And you didn’t even know which would be which.

Even if the Intercessors had allowed him to be sent here, choosing to let PT assume command of the asteroid, there would definitely be something of interest here.

And his father had a way of finding his way to the places where interesting things were happening. He was attracted to them just as they were attracted to him.

Even as a child, Figaro had recognised that being around his father meant being around the densest element other elements were drawn to. Whether it was powerful people, momentous events, or his mother. They all came to his father, driven to him by some invisible quality of the universe. Just as he was being drawn into the dark interior of the asteroid.

But he didn’t see himself as having any other choice.

The fate arranged for him was not one he considered palatable. Even if the fate of the quadrant hung on it, Figaro’s years of training in duty and sacrifice were not strong enough to make him willingly accept the wisdom of his elders and betters. His education had been too broad and all-encompassing to simply take the word of others on faith, his father included.

It did feel like a failure on his part. He couldn’t help the way he’d been conditioned. But the way he had come to terms with it was to prove he had a better way. A thousand people walking the same path made it a clear path, it didn’t necessarily make it the right way.

Figaro had rejected his assigned fate, but he would save his father and defeat the Antecessors. It seemed like the best way to prove his decision was the right one.

Even though he could see nothing, Figaro moved his head as much as the force gripping him would allow. His knowledge of the asteroid, its dimensions and construction, gave him a good idea of how far it was to the asteroid’s core. Judging his velocity was difficult without anything to use as reference, but he guessed by the tension within his body that it was at least 2G, possibly more. He estimated it would take two minutes at most before he encountered what was hidden at the dark centre of this rock.

The pull was increasing and the temperature was going up. There had never been a heat signature from this deep inside the asteroid according to the many readings taken by his father’s instruments. For all his deliberations about what he might find at the core of the asteroid, he might end up a shrivelled husk before he even got there.

The sense of movement ended and his feet touched a solid surface. The darkness continued to be absolute, but there was something obstructing his way forward.

Perhaps he had reached the centre? It didn’t feel any different in terms of power. He moved his feet, tapping gently, trying to get an idea of what he was standing on.

Smooth. Firm. Curved. Smashed.

It shattered under him and he fell. This was proper falling, accompanied by a rush of wind across his body. The air entered his mouth and nose. It was breathable, high oxygen content. He began to feel light-headed.

His body became hotter, from the inside. His eyes felt like they were burning. His entire skeletal structure increased in density. He was losing control of his organic. It was activating at a speed and intensity like never before. He would have burst into a billion tiny pieces if the bracelet on his arm hadn’t suddenly inflicted a terrific amount of pain into him, washing the organic back into the cells of his body.

It was like being brought to the edge of an explosion and then having it subdued in an instant so that there was nothing left. Dr Yune’s device had saved him from certain annihilation. He had helped Figaro throughout his life, taken care of him, and then turned on him. The man had betrayed him and saved him.

Figaro saw no conflict in the two sides of Dr Yune.

Betrayal was nothing personal. Both he and Mackus had seen it as the more prudent option to take Figaro’s birthright away from him. They had their reasons and they may well have been correct. Figaro understood that sometimes betrayal was justified. Even necessary.

“It won’t work,” said Figaro. “You can’t make me transform while I am wearing this.” He held up his arm in the darkness.

“It does not wish to,” said his father’s voice. Was it really his father, though? Figaro couldn’t say for certain.

Their ability to mimic was excellent. Figaro had been caught by surprise and failed to spot the differences. There weren’t many and those that there were, could be considered within abnormal parameters — extreme condition, a unique situation, huge mental stress, a mountain of variables. His father could have reacted the way the Intercessors played him. And Figaro’s own issues dealing with the situation were a valid excuse for his mistakes. But they were still excuses. Ubik hadn’t been fooled, and he had never met Ramon Ollo.

The wise move was to assume the worst.

“Where am I?” Figaro asked.

“At the centre of the asteroid. Or as close as you can get without being destroyed. There are several layers of protection around a microscopic black hole at the very centre. The asteroid was built around it, as a containment vessel. It’s a rather elegant design.”

It certainly sounded like his father.

“Where are you... Father?”

“You sound uncertain of who I am.”

“Who are you?” asked Figaro.

“I am no longer Ramon Ollo. Why did you come here, Figaro? You cannot save me.”

“Where is your body?”

“On the seventh level. It is nothing more than an empty receptacle now.”

“Is it alive?”

“Yes. Physically.”

“But your mind is here?”

“Part of my mind is here. Other parts are elsewhere. But it no longer belongs to me. Everything I know, have ever known, is now part of the Intercessors. They have only allowed this small part of me to remain in order to communicate with you.”

“And the Ramon Ollo I encountered above?”

“That was also me. A more constrained version. They know me well enough to keep me on a leash.”

“But not here?”

“No. There is no need. Here, we can do very little. The power inside the black hole is not one that can be resisted. You will be kept here until they can find a way to unlock the power within you.” He sighed. “It will be my task to make that happen.”

“I thought they didn’t want the power to be released.”

“Not in the way it was meant to be used by the Antecessors. But if they can extract it whole, they have other uses for it.”

“I can get you out, Father. If I can return you to your body, we can leave this place. I have friends who can take control of the asteroid.”

“What you’re suggesting isn’t possible, Figaro. I am dispersed throughout the asteroid now. To remove me would create a void that wouldn’t be sustainable. It would destroy us both.”

“Isn’t that preferable to being kept as prisoners?” said Figaro.

“No,” said his father.

Figaro paused to think. He had come here to find his father and he had succeeded. He had expected to face obstacles to the rescue but the biggest obstacle was his father himself. He would need to tempt him with something he wanted even more than the knowledge he might gain by being the captive of the Intercessors.

“What if we replace you with an alternative, to fill the gap. You could retain a place in the asteroid but you would also be free to leave.”

There was a long pause before Ramon Ollo said, “What do you suggest?”

“Me. I could take your place. Isn’t that why they allowed me to come here?”

“The bracelet on your wrist makes you a worthless substitution. They thought they could break it here, where their power is strongest, but Dr Yune has confounded them.”

Figaro could almost hear the smile in his father’s voice.

“What if I replaced you with someone else?” said Figaro. “Someone who has also become part of the asteroid.”

“There is someone like that?”

This aspect of his father was not aware of what was happening above. He didn’t know that PT had already been inserted into the Intercessor framework.

Of course, PT would not be willing to simply take his father’s place. And after all they had experienced together, it would be an ignoble deed to force him to do so. But sometimes betrayal was necessary.

(Reboot) Chapter 435

Trusting people is the second hardest thing in life. The hardest is finding parking in town on a Saturday.

Raffo was leading me on a mission to kill a demon. There are worse things you can do in the middle of the night, as I’m sure your browser history can confirm.

In my head, I had painted a picture of Archie as a classic Bond villain with a doomsday device being constructed on the sly by a gaggle of mad scientists, but it turned out he was more of an old school master of the dark arts, meddling with powers he could not possibly contain.

People don’t normally throw themselves into harm’s way, but if Raffo saw him as a representative of evil and himself as some sort of white knight, that would account for why he was happy to go against his boss. It’s how we Brits are. The coming confrontation would require risk and sacrifice, but since he was in the process of passing on the risk and sacrifice to me, I completely believed he was acting genuinely.

If the demon in question really was Cheng, then my luck was in. I had no intention of killing him, obviously. A powerful ally who had no problem killing people was just what I needed. Although, first I needed to find out why Cheng was here. Was he willingly assisting Archie? Was he also trapped here? Was it even the real Cheng?

“My work here is not something I take lightly,” said Raffo as he led me through the house. He was keeping his voice low, which made it hard to understand what he was saying through the distortion of the masks we were both wearing. “They seduced me with the idea of feeding an impoverished world in need of help, and then they tricked me into creating seedless tubers designed to enslave an entire alien race. I will not allow the exploitation of my darlings.” He stopped in the darkened corridor as footsteps approached. “You can’t grow a potato without a soul,” he whispered through his mask at me. “It isn’t right.”

Basically, he was taking me to destroy a demon while complaining about how poorly they treated him at work. Can’t get more British than that.

The footsteps receded and we carried on. He guided me through various hallways, all of them dark with the occasional slant of pale blue through a window, taking a circuitous route through the house. There was some noise from other people in the distance but no one caught us.

Once we exited the main house, the night sky provided us with enough illumination to see by. Enough to see all the security guards wandering about.

“How do we get past them?” I asked as we stopped in a shadowy alcove at the back of the house.

“With confidence,” said Raffo, as he set off across the open area between us and the buildings where all the top secret research was carried out.

I followed, as we crunched across the gravel with no attempt to hide our presence.

The guards, in jumpsuits and baseball hats, turned to watch us march past, making no attempt to stop us. A couple of them nodded at Raffo, obviously recognising him. They seemed to be in no rush to confront us, in fact, they sort of backed off. Who was Raffo and what made him so intimidating?

To me, he seemed a bit of an idiot, but that’s how I felt about most people. I was now in a completely new arena and I would have to be careful I didn’t let the fact that everyone I’d ever met had lived up to my incredibly low expectations blind me to the possibility of competence existing in this world.

As we approached the doors to the building Neil had shown me around earlier, Raffo pulled a card out of his pocket and waved it at the sensor, which turned green. He pushed through the doors like he was coming to work like any other day. Once inside, the lights came on their own and revealed an empty and silent foyer.

“There are no cameras or microphones here,” said Raffo, taking off his mask. “Any information that can be captured on a transferrable media is considered a security risk.” He held up the card he had used to activate the door. “This ID belongs to Tammy. It will confuse the system for now, but it will only buy us some time, not save us from facing the consequences of our actions. We may be found out any time so be prepared.”

“Prepared to do what?” I asked him. He stared at me for a long time until I regretted asking. “And didn’t those guards all recognise you?”

“They won’t say anything. They are mute.”

“I’m pretty sure I’ve heard some of them speaking.”

“You are mistaken. They are mute, and neither can they read or write.”

“Wait, Archie’s whole security staff is comprised of illiterate mutes?” I’m all for hiring from disadvantaged communities, but that’s a pretty small pool to choose from. “Where did he find so many of them?”

“He didn’t find them, he made them that way. Follow me.”

Raffo walked through doors that slid open when he waved Tammy’s ID in front of them.

“He made them unable to read or write? And they didn’t mind? He must pay really well.”

“He can pull strings and bring people together,” said Raffo. “He can pull strings and make people do things.”

Lights came on where we walked and turned off where we’d been. I’d been here earlier with Neil but there had been a lot of people back then — many of whom, I’m pretty sure, were holding conversations and reading things — and Neil had been using a lot of jargon so I didn’t really understand what sort of work was conducted here. I didn’t particularly care, either. Just a lab where people ran tests in computers.

Now it felt eerie and cold. There were a lot of machines and odd pieces of equipment I couldn’t identify. There were contraptions that looked like they might be designed to hold something (or someone) using straps and bindings.

“This is my lab,” said Raffo. He swiped the card and nothing happened. “Oh.”

“Tammy’s card doesn’t work on your door?” I asked.

Raffo stared at me again. Seemed to be his default reaction to being called out. Better than bursting into tears, I guess. Slowly, he took out another ID card and used it to open the doors.

“It was just a delaying tactic,” he said defensively. “It served its purpose.”

The lab was white and sterile-looking. There were a lot more plants here than the other labs, huge trays covering every surface, leaving very little floor space. I pushed through foliage to keep up with Raffo.

“Is this all potatoes?” I asked.

“No, potatoes are just the tip of the iceberg. This is where we develop the next-generation of food-like products. We call them frood, for copyright reasons.”

“Are you not allowed to call them food?”

“Technically, no. But they are better than what Mother Nature has seen fit to bestow on us. Or they would be, if Archie hadn’t other plans for my creations. In terms of resistance, durability and nutritional value, everything here is far beyond what you can buy in a supermarket. They grow aggressively under any conditions and cannot be killed by normal means.”

“Not organic, then?” I asked.

“Better than organic, Newganic.”

“Copyright reasons?”

“Yes, but the whole organic movement is nothing more than marketing. This is better. Engineered with a full range of vitamins, minerals and mood stabilisers.”

Raffo pushed through his indoor forest until he reached what looked like a kitchenette. Breaktime in the rainforest. He opened the door of a microwave oven.

“The potato I gave you earlier.” He held out his hand.

I gave him the potato. He put it in the oven.

“You’re going to eat it?”

Raffo gave me a bemused look. “I would never eat one of my potatoes.”

“Because you think of them as your children?”

“No, because an unmodified potato contains toxic solanine, which can cause headaches, diarrhoea, cramps, and in some cases, coma and death. Imagine what a modified one could do.”

The microwave pinged and then the door lit up with streams of numbers.

“I was right,” said Raffo. “You have the same energy signature as the demon.”

“You can tell that from a baked potato?”

“This isn’t a microwave oven. This is a very advanced quantum spectroscope that can analyse the energy this potato absorbed from you while you held it. This confirms my theory.”

He opened a drawer and took out more potatoes which he put in his pockets.

“Don’t I get one?” I asked.

“Just a precaution. This way.”

We set off again until Raffo parted some large leaves to reveal a locker. He scrolled through the combination lock and opened it. He took out a metal helmet and a machete.

“Is that a Nazi helmet?” It was like a bucket with a spike coming out the top.

“No, it is from the first world war and predates the National Socialists by several years. It is hard to smuggle in appropriate protective gear without raising suspicions.” He handed me the machete.

“Flew right under the radar, did it? And what am I supposed to do with this?”

“Kill the demon. It is the only weapon I could get hold of that has a blade.”

I swung the machete around. “Why do you want me to kill the demon?”

“I am an agrochemist, biotechnologist and bioengineer. I am not a demonslayer.” He put the helmet on.

“Shouldn’t I be the one wearing protective headgear?”

Raffo reached into his locker again and took out a sheet of plastic. He opened it to show it was actually a waterproof poncho. “This is all you will need. It will keep the blood off your clothes.”

I put it on. I was back in England, land of the incessant drizzle. A waterproof anything would always come in useful.

“You may encounter some slight discomfort in your brain. This is nothing to be alarmed about. It is merely an electromagnetic field used to keep the demon sedated. The effect on humans is very mild.” He adjusted his helmet and headed into the jungle.

We reached a big metal door which Raffo pulled open. A blast of cold air hit me in the face. Raffo walked into a cold room with a table with metal cuffs where your wrists and ankles might go.

“What’s this for?” I asked Raffo.

“Microfabrication technology for vascularised tissue engineering,” said Raffo. “Over here.”

He went to the back of the room where a large vent hummed as freezing air came through it. Raffo pulled off the cover and set it down on the floor.

“This is how I was able to discover what they were really up to. This way.”

Raffo climbed into the vent. It wasn’t quite big enough to stand in so you had to crouch or crawl. It was very uncomfortable and my view consisted mainly of Raffo’s large backside. Raffo tapped the side of his helmet and the spike on top lit up. Archduke Ferdinand would have been amazed.

“What you are about to see will shock you,” said Raffo. “It will appal you and fill you with terror.”

“I doubt it,” I said. “Not unless this shaft comes out somewhere in Moss Side.”

We went along until we came to a shaft that went straight down. There was a ladder welded to the side. Raffo began climbing down, no hesitation at all. I followed with the scary thought filling my head that we would have to climb back up.

It was a long way down. The ladder I had just descended seemed to reach up to the heavens.

“You’d think someone as rich as Archie would have had a lift installed.”

“Money is not the important thing here, even though he is a self-made millionaire.”

“Worked his way up, did he?”

“No,” said Raffo. “He was born a billionaire and worked his way down. Lost most of his family’s wealth on unlikely enterprises until he found one that produced results. He won’t stop until he sees this project through to the end, no matter the cost, so he can prove all his detractors wrong.”

Raffo turned off his helmet spike-light and edged towards a soft glow up ahead. The shaft ended in another cover like the one we’d entered through with slats we could see through. On the other side was a room full of machines, beeping and flashing. A screen on the far wall showed images of hills and fields. Wires and cables ran from the machines over to a figure strapped to a table. It really was Cheng. A purple glow surrounded him, like he was radioactive in an old sci-fi movie.

I had seen him in many forms. Young man, winged monster with horns on his head, husband — each rendition more horrifying than the last — but this version seemed to be a mixture of human and demon. His skin looked withered and old, like dry parchment. His body was emaciated but he still had a six-pack, so not all bad.

“What are they doing to him?”

“They're trying to download information from his brain,” said Raffo. “He’s resisting. When they’re drawing out his memories, no one can approach him. He releases a strange form of energy that is lethal if you’re exposed too long to it. But you should be fine.”

Very reassuring.

My head started to buzz, like I was coming down from a good time, only without the good time. I retreated from the cover, wincing.

“That’s the dampening field,” said Raffo. “You will hardly notice it after a few minutes.”

“Feels like the right side of my brain is melting.”

“The right side of the brain is very overrated,” said Raffo. He pushed down on his helmet to make sure his ears were covered. “Now you only have to go in there and kill it.”

“Won’t there be alarms and things?” I asked.

“Yes. You will only have a few seconds.”

“Hey, Cheng?” I whispered through the slates. “It’s Colin.”

“No, don’t ahh-ahh-ahh.” Raffo scrambled back from the vent cover.

Cheng had opened his eyes and looked at me. I wasn’t sure if he could see me. His eyes were pitch black. He lifted his head slightly. It was definitely him. He grunted unintelligibly.

“Nice to see you, too,” I said. “You look good. Been working out? Cheng, what happened? How did you get here?”

“Mandy,” he whispered.

“Did she betray you? I always knew she couldn’t be trusted. I mean, I know I set you up with her, but I don’t think you can blame me for any of this. Women, eh?”

“Find her.”

“Mandy’s here, too?”

“They have her. Save her, please.” His head dropped back down.

Being able to hold Cheng here meant they either had some amazing tech that always worked and never shut down or blue screened when it was auto-updating (seemed unlikely) or they had some kind of leverage over him. Keeping his all-too-human wife as hostage would about do it. Although the poor hostage-takers probably weren’t having a great time, either.

“What’s he saying?” asked Raffo. “Don’t believe his lies.”

“He’s asking me to rescue his wife. Do you know where she is?”

Raffo looked confused. “He has a wife?”

“Yes. Blonde girl called Mandy. She was one of the twenty. Not a real blonde, though. Roots never showed, I’ll give her that, but there are other ways you can tell.”

Raffo didn’t seem to be able to take in what I was saying. Some men want the illusion more than they want the truth.

“You’re the first one to return,” said Raffo. “How can there be another without us…” His face changed. “There was one...”

“What?”

“A victim. Of his. He nearly killed her when he first arrived in this world. She is in Neil’s section. In a coma.”

“Save her…” muttered Cheng. His skin flickered with purple light like he was on fire.

“Get back,” said Raffo, crawling backwards to get away as the shaft filled with a purple haze.

I put out my hand and touched the air around me. My skin tingled. It felt familiar. I looked at the palm of my hand and there was flame sitting there. It disappeared.

“So,” I said to Raffo, “where do I find Neil’s lab?”

Book 2 – 88: Peace Offering

Third Quadrant.

Asteroid Tethari.

Antecessor Facility

 

Ubik quickly took in Chukka’s appearance. Alone, dishevelled, clinging tightly to an object she was trying to hide. It was clear the large blue crystal was important to her.

“What is that? Can I have a look?”

Chukka gripped the object tighter, moving it to the side and partly behind her. There was a flash of wild calculation in her eyes. She was going through her options at breakneck speed, searching for the right lie to tell.

Ubik liked her. Whenever she was in a tight spot, giving up was never an option. The only thought in her head was how to turn things to her advantage. She was like a gambler who doubled their bet every time they lost. A reckless and idiotic approach, but hugely rewarding if you managed to pull it off. Ubik would never make that mistake, though. Quadruple the bet or why even bother playing?

“Nothing, it’s nothing.” She was looking past Ubik now, at the Guardian looming behind him, her eyes widening, then narrowing.

“Where are my manners?” said Ubik. “This is Guardian Tezla of the Central Authority. Major Chukka of the VendX Corporation.”

“We’ve met,” said Tezla, her face mask hissing as it slid up. “You’re still alive. Good. Why are you down here? What happened to the others? Dead?”

“Most likely,” said Chukka, her resentment overflowing. “Thanks to you. Found your target, did you? I’m sure they’ll give you a pay rise when you take him back.”

“We don’t get paid,” said Tezla. “And only you survived, you say. How fortunate.”

“You have no idea the horrors I’ve faced after you abandoned us. Why are you still here? Shouldn’t you get him out before someone takes him from you?”

“I’m sensing some kind of history here,” said Ubik, glancing from one to the other. “Wait, did you both come here looking for me? Is this going to be one of those two women fight over a man things?”

“No,” said Chukka and Tezla together.

“Well, I don’t like to be objectified like that, but go ahead. I’ll be the prize. Winner takes all. Maybe take off the suits so you can move around a bit more freely.”

Chukka glared at him. Then her eyes looked him up and down. “Why aren’t you wearing a suit?”

“No need,” said Ubik, patting down his clothes. “You don’t want to get too dependent on tech, like some people.” He pointed surreptitiously at the Guardian in her battlesuit. “Addicted to high-grade explosives. Watch out for her when you’ve got her in a clinch, she’ll probably try to blow your head off with one of her little rockets.”

“We don’t have time to fight,” said the Guardian, getting tetchy again. “We need to get out of here as quickly as possible.” She had been moaning about the importance of getting clear of the asteroid and calling in help ever since PT had sent them off.

“We’re here to find these creatures, remember?” said Ubik. “Don’t you want to meet the aliens?”

“I’m taking you out of here,” said Tezla.

“Same thing,” said Ubik pointing past Chukka’s shoulder. “The way out’s this way too. Down here and up a bit.”

“No,” said Chukka sharply. “Not that way. There’s no way out that way.” She was shaking and her face had paled. “You’ll only find death and monsters. You mustn’t… you can’t...”

A grin of delight appeared on Ubik’s face. “Oh, that’s good. That’s really good. The way your skin changed colour, how do you do that? Some kind of implant? And the shaky voice and everything. Really nice work.”

“What are you talking about? I’m serious. There are real monsters down there. Not droids.”

“Good, isn’t she?” Ubik said to Tezla. “I bet the higher-ups at VendX have got their eyes on her. Commitment, that’s what you have to have to get to the top in the business world. Let’s go see these ‘monsters’ then.”

“Listen to me, you idiot,” snarled Chukka. “You’ll die if you go that way. You will be devoured.” She made a real meal of the last word to make her point.

“These monsters,” said Ubik, “they don’t have mouths, do they? Hard to devour anyone without a mouth.” He chomped his teeth at her.

Chukka looked up at Tezla with a mixture of stunned and baffled beautifully painted across her face. “Why are you letting him lead you into the jaws of death?”

“They don’t have jaws, either,” said Ubik.

“The way out is through there,” said Tezla in measured tones. She wasn’t very happy about letting Ubik lead, either. “My suit’s AI confirms it.”

“Your suit’s AI is wrong, then,” said Chukka. “Or…” She looked at Ubik. “Or he’s done something to it.”

“You think I haven’t thought of that?” snapped Tezla. “I’ve double-checked. It’s through there.”

“You’re both going to die. Well, good luck to you. I’m going that way.” Chukka pointed past Ubik and Tezla.

“So good,” said Ubik. “Managed to make it all about who’s going where just to deflect from my question about that thing she’s got tucked under your arm. Can I have a look now?”

“What is wrong with you?” said Chukka. “Not everyone’s putting on act just because you are.”

Ubik pulled a face suggesting he had no idea what point she was trying to make. “I admire the persistence but I’ve seen people get upset a lot. I mean, I’ve seen it a lot. People get upset around me all the time. All the time. Men, women, children. Sometimes even drones, and they don’t have the circuits for it. I know what it looks like when somone’s panicking for real and when they’re trying to deflect. And you’re deflecting like crazy.” Ubik smiled at her. She was calculating again. “Rex must have run an analysis by now. Anything interesting?”

“Rex?”

“Unable to identify. Readings are inconclusive. Material is unknown.”

Tezla turned her keen gaze onto Chukka. “What is it? No more pretending.”

“I’m not pretending,” said Chukka, taking a step back. She took a breath. Whatever she’d decided, here it came. “This is the only thing that saved me. I don’t want to give it to you because I’ll die without it. You have your suit and he has… whatever it is that keeps him alive when he should have died a hundred times already. They… the monsters… they won’t attack me while I’ve got this. They’re afraid of damaging it, which means they’ll leave me alone while I’ve got it. It doesn’t matter what is — I don’t even know, and I don’t care. This is the only thing keeping me alive and you can’t have it.”

She gripped the object even tighter.

“Now that,” said Ubik, “I believe.”

Chukka’s eyes filled with relief for a moment, quickly draining away. “You’re still going to take it from me.” Her lips tightened into a thin line.

“Me?” said Ubik. “No, never. I wouldn’t steal your hard-won treasure. Who knows how many people died so you could walk out of here with that thing. It’s all yours as far as I’m concerned. Guardian?” He looked up and back at Tezla.

“Anything found inside this asteroid is the property of Ramon Ollo,” said Tezla. “You aren’t authorised to remove it or damage it in any way, not as a private individual and not as an employee of VendX Galactic.”

“Oh, yeah,” said Ubik. “There is that. Better put it back where you found it.”

“I told you,” said Chukka. “This is the only way to protect myself. I’m claiming it as an emergency measure, on humanitarian grounds.”

“Your presence here is illegitimate,” said Tezla. “You do not have the right to claim anything.”

“You could,” said Ubik, “come with us and then relinquish it before we leave. You could.”

“I could,” said Chukka, eyeing Ubik through narrowed eyes, more calculations rapidly being performed. “But are you really sure this is the shortest route to the surface. You do want to get out of here, don’t you? You don’t plan on going deeper.”

“Of course,” said Tezla. “We will return to the surface and then we will contact the Central Authority vessels on the perimeter to pick us up.”

“And this is the way?” Chukka still seemed reluctant to go back the way she’d come. Ubik couldn’t wait to find out why.

“This is the way,” he said. “Right, Rex?”

“This is the way,” said Rex in a flat monotone.

“And what about the monsters?” asked Chukka.

“Monster is such a negative term,” said Ubik. “I’m sure they’re quite reasonable once you get to know them.”

He set off down the tunnel, confident she would follow. She wasn’t lying about the monsters but she would go back. She was relying on her monsters to take care of him and the Guardian. It was the only way she would be able to leave with the object she so desperately clung to. Whatever it was, she was willing to go back into harm’s way to make sure no one took it from her. It had to be something good. The monsters wouldn’t hurt her while she was holding it, that was what she’d said. The same was not true for Ubik and the Guardian. Not a bad plan. A very Chukka plan. Ubik smiled to himself — not as good as his plan. Once he thought of one, of course.

The end of the tunnel wasn’t very far, and then he emerged into a large domed chamber. Instead of the smooth, curving walls in the tunnel, these walls were rough and uneven, covered with bulges and ripples.

This place hadn’t been carved out of the rock by droids. Something more animalistic had dug and clawed this place into existence, but in a deliberate and exacting manner. Sculpted by inhuman hands.

There was definitely a purpose to it, a very specific purpose. This was a hub, created to amplify some kind of signal.

Ubik liked it. He had spent a lot of time underground and knew a safe bolt hole when he saw one. This place wouldn’t fall on your head. It was nicely balanced, plenty of room, lots of grips. It was designed to be climbed for access. Access to what?.

Lights flashed around him. They weren’t streaks of white like in other parts of the facility, these were dots of colour spread out at random. His eyes followed the pattern as they jumped back and forth, twinkling like stars.

A deep rumble attracted his attention down. At the foot of the steps was a gathering of white, faceless creatures. They had a bizarre appearance, helpless and handicapped. They swarmed together, bumping into one another in their blindness. But Ubik wasn’t frightened by them. It was hard to be sure, but he didn’t think they were here for him. Their focus seemed to be directed towards Chukka.

“Hello!” said Ubik, seeing no reason not to be friendly. “Nice to meet you. I’m Ubik, this is Guardian Tezla. Chukka, you already know.”

The rumble stopped for a moment, leaving a confused silence, and then it returned as a quieter hum. They didn’t attack, which was the important thing.

“They don’t have ears,” whispered Chukka.

“Then why are you whispering?” said Ubik. “I wasn’t talking to them, anyway.” He pointed at the walls where the flashing lights had become much more active. His finger traced the pattern from one light to the next, all the way to the object in Chukka’s arms, which pulsed a dull blue.

“You came back!” called out a voice from somewhere across the chamber.

“Yes,” said Chukka, her tone a little hesitant. “I brought help.”

“You said everyone was dead,” said Tezla, grimly understating the accusation that was implied.

“No, I said they probably were,” said Chukka.

“You were going to abandon them,” said the Guardian.

“I don’t think you have the right to lecture anyone on that score,” said Chukka. “At least I came back.”

It was a deft move, making herself appear like the one who wanted to return, rather than the one insisting they didn’t.

“Ubik,” said another voice, this one female and insistent. “Come over here.”

“Sorry, do I know you?” said Ubik, unable to see the owner of the voice.

“Ubik, you little shit,” said another female voice, “get us out of here.”

“And then?”

“And then we’ll get you off this rock.”

He knew who it was — the two sisters — but why were they here? It could only be to grab him or Fig.

“What about Fig?” he asked.

“Him too,” said… Weyla?

“Well, thanks, but we’re not ready to leave,” said Ubik. “We’re actually settling in very nicely. Might even make the move permanent. Might not look it right now, but this could become the premier vacation spot in this quadrant.” He redirected his gaze towards the walls where lights were pulsing wildly. Something was about to happen.

Ubik turned his head towards Chukka and the Guardian. “I’m going to go down and have a word with the boys. See if we can’t come to an understanding.”

Chukka shook her head. “You’re insane.”

“Where is the way out?” demanded Tezla.

“I can see you’re both worried about my welfare, but please don’t worry. I’ll be fine.”

“You’re a dead man,” said Chukka.

“Where is the exit,” said Tezla.

“Just one thing,” said Ubik. “Can I borrow that?” He reached his hand towards the crystal pod in Chukka’s arms. She instinctively pulled back.

“No.”

“I’ll give it back,” said Ubik. “The Guardian will keep you safe until then.” He looked at the Guardian, encouraging her to back him up. She shook her head.

“No,” repeated Chukka, wrapping both arms around the crystal and pulling it into her chest.

“Give it to him,” said Tezla.

Chukka turned to give the same answer to Tezla. Ubik chose that moment to lunge forwards and grab the crystal. Chukka leaned out of range and tripped over the step behind her.

Ubik managed to whip the crystal out of her grip as she stumbled.

“Thanks, I’ll take good care—” and then juggled it as the smooth surface he wasn’t expecting slid out of his grasp, smashing on the floor into tiny pieces, an oily liquid wetting his boots and something dark and wriggly slithered down the steps.

The lights around the chamber all lit up at the same time. For the first time, Ubik could see across the entire chamber and the three people embedded into the far wall, only their heads and hands showing.

“What did you do?” said Chukka, her voice genuinely panicked as the creatures began climbing the steps towards them.

“Oops,” said Ubik.

Book 2 – 87: Sending a Message

Third Quadrant.

Asteroid Tethari.

Antecessor Facility

 

Chukka held the weapon steadily pointed at the bulge in the wall. She was threatening a rock, and it was working.

“Don’t move, don’t come any closer.” She waved the gun menacingly. The pod she was pointing at glowed a dim blue colour and the creatures amassed around her eased back from their attack postures.

They wanted to rip her to pieces, tear her limb from limb, she could feel it, but they daren’t.

Her message was getting across. They understood basic intimidation tactics. Blackmail. Extortion. She was building a whole lexicon she could use to make first contact with these aliens.

It was interesting seeing how they moved. They responded as a unit, perfectly coordinated. That would be useful. She didn’t have to work on them each individually — get one to do her bidding and the rest would follow. Basic grunts. Used to doing as they were told. The ideal audience for her particular set of skills.

She didn’t think the creatures were the ones making the decisions, though. No eyes, no ears, no mouths. They had to be getting information from somewhere. The pod next to her glowed and set off another cascade of coloured lights.

The creatures nearest her retreated to give her a little more room.

The pods embedded in the walls somehow told the creatures to back off. Some kind of telepathic communication? Maybe vibrations they could sense?

Chukka looked around at the other pods glowing in sympathy with the one kissing her gun’s muzzle, at the creatures slowly shuffling to encircle her, at the other three — Weyla, Leyla, Bashir — pinned down under mounds of pale white flesh.

Their weapons were useless against these things. Even the Seneca women had no way to break free. But Chukka had shown her superiority.

Now everyone was waiting for her to make her next move. Everyone had given Chukka their attention and full authority to call the shots. This was executive power, the most potent force in any fight. She liked it. Live or die by your own choices. This was what it meant to be a leader.

Her job right now was to analyse each variable as quickly as possible and find a way to use it to dominate the situation.

The strange creatures that had emerged from the ground had stopped in their tracks as soon as she aimed her gun at what, presumably, was some form of living being.

She could see there was something moving inside the translucent pods and it seemed a safe assumption that they were alive.

That was why the creatures — pale, faceless, violent — weren’t currently ripping her to shreds. They didn’t want her to kill their precious babies or siblings or masters or whatever they were. That told Chukka a lot about what she was dealing with, and how to manipulate them.

A select group chosen to put their own lives at risk in service of these ‘eggs’. That told her the eggs were vulnerable and weak.

The creatures looked to her to be newly awoken. Units designed for long periods of hibernation followed by intense periods of violent wakefulness. That fit into what she had seen so far.

One job, one purpose. Unable to think laterally or to consider alternatives. Protect the eggs at all costs.

The more she thought about it, the more human their thinking seemed. Low-level human thinking.

If they thought and felt and feared, then they were the same as the customers Chukka had been trained to deal with. They wanted to keep these things safe, and were willing to sacrifice themselves to do so. They weren’t willing to allow a single one of their charges to suffer if they could avoid it.

If they jumped her now, she could destroy one or two at most before she was overpowered. They wouldn’t do it. They didn’t dare. A terrible negotiating position to be in, as all the textbooks on the subject would tell you.

What she had to do now was find a way to communicate with them. A gun to the head spoke volumes, but she needed to be a little more subtle if she was going to get further than an eternal stalemate.

A stand-off with no end never benefitted the person in control, it only gave everyone else time to improve their situation. She might have the advantage for now, but these things probably didn’t sleep or eat or shit. They didn’t appear to have any orifices at all. They could wait until she started to get tired and then take her out.

Finding an exit was what she needed to focus on. Out of here with one of these pods in her possession. Empty-handed would be easier, but what good would that do her? No point finding a treasure of unlimited worth just to leave it behind. This was the big one and she had no intention of walking away from it.

It was even better than the organic tree they’d come across earlier. That would have made her a fortune, but this would make her a player in the big leagues. This opportunity could not be passed up.

“Tell them to back off,” said Bashir, his voice muffled and shaking. She could just see his eyes through the bodies on top of him.

“Quiet. I’m handling this.” This was no time to allow suggestions. It was never time for that if you wanted to maintain a strong leadership.

“Stop thinking about taking one of those things with you,” said Weyla, eyes bright red, straining as she rose from the ground, a pile of white bodies covering her. “They won’t let you leave with it.” She sounded irritated. Not liking the feeling of having her life in someone else’s hand. Good. Chukka hadn’t given up on extending her influence over the Seneca sisters.

“They won’t let us leave no matter what,” said Chukka.

Leyla slowly began to rise, her weapon in her hand. “Get out of here while you can.”

The creatures made a rumbling sound that seemed to come from their chests as they slammed both sisters back to the ground. There were dozens of them. More were emerging all the time.

Chukka was the only one still standing. She would like to keep it that way. “We need to take one of these things with us.” Chukka waved her gun at the pod. “It’s our only insurance.”

“How?” said Weyla, limbs wrapped around her throat. “They’re stuck in the wall. And I don’t think they’ll like you trying to dig one out.”

“You have a better idea?” snapped Chukka.

The lights dimly glowing around them, up the walls and across the chamber, began to pulse, and then strobe in patterns. The creatures around her shifted their body-weight, taking a different stance, as though hunkering down. Chukka stiffened.

Communicating was happening. They were about to make their move and Chukka had yet to come up with a way out of here. The surprise of being attacked and the shock of what they had been attacked by had cost her valuable seconds. She would be forced to react and give up the initiative.

The lights went out at exactly the same time and the chamber was plunged into darkness save for the light from her suit, showing only the wall. She didn’t want to lose her target.

Chukka expected to be attacked. Her finger on the trigger tightened. She didn’t want to destroy her only bargaining chip, it would only get her killed. But she had limited options.

There was a scream.

The lights from the walls glowed brighter and revealed Bashir standing, propped up by creatures still wrapped around him like a bizarre wedding dress.

His eyes were wild and terrified. His body shook. “Help…” he wheezed. His eyes bulged as his neck was squeezed by several thin white hands.

Fast learners. They were using her own methods against her. Dumb. Making assumptions that she would react the same way as them.

Chukka moved the gun swiftly and shot Bashir. He buckled and let out a strangled cry before going limp.

The lights on the wall went crazy, blinking and flashing. Now they understood. Here was the message she wanted to get across to them. They weren’t the same. There wasn’t going to be an exchange of goods. No refunds. All sales were final.

The creatures let Bashir drop and returned their focus to her, where it belonged. She had their undivided attention now.

They began moving closer. Chukka made sure the tip of the gun was pressed against the pod.

“Don’t test me,” she said. They couldn't understand her words, but they knew what she was saying.

Chukka scanned the area for her next move. How to leave with one of these pods?

They kept moving closer, forming a circle around her and up the wall. She couldn’t see the Seneca women now but it didn’t matter. She had total control of this situation.

There was a scratching, scrabbling noise from somewhere above her. One of them had climbed up high. It was too dark to see what they were up to. Trying to drop a rock on her head?

A skittering, clicking noise filled the air — claws against rock. Dust fell.

A figure moved down the wall, then another. There were several of them crawling down the vertical surface, carrying something between them. It began to glow.

They were bringing one of the pods to her, dug out of the wall. The gathered crowd parted as the group of three came down and approached her, carrying the pod reverentially between them. It was green with something swirling inside it. They placed it at her feet.

An offering? A sacrifice to their new god?

No, that would be too easy. Chukka didn’t trust good fortune so readily. They were up to something. Perhaps this was fake, or a bomb. Or they might simply want her to leave the pod she was threatening.

Was there something special about this one in particular? It didn’t seem much different to the one they were offering her, other than the colour.

“This one,” said Chukka, gently tapping the one in the wall with the tip of her gun. Its inner light flared up and something with a tail flashed past the surface. “This one,” she shouted.

More lights flashed around the wall in response. The creatures edged closer from the sides and began chipping away with their claws. Chukka kept the gun trained on her target. Slowly the pod came loose. Chukka caught it before it fell.

It was smaller than the one they’d tried to give her. That didn’t necessarily mean much. Perhaps she could take them both. No, she wouldn’t be able to manage. Smaller would be easier. She held it cradled in one arm with the gun pointing down at it.

“Show me how to get out of here,” said Chukka. “Out. Up.” She pointed at the roof of the chamber.

The crowd around her parted again, this time creating a path for her. It led towards a wall with a ladder. She wouldn’t be able to climb while carrying the pod and her gun. Was this their plan? Attack when she was unable to defend herself. Not a bad idea. She was beginning to see these little imps as worthy competitors. Just not good enough.

“Get back. Spread out. Back, back.” She waved them away to give her more space. They scattered like frightened vermin. They weren’t scared of her, they feared for the safety of the pod she was holding. It was smooth and slippery and easy to drop. Chukka held onto it tight. It was just as precious to her.

The ladder was in front of her. Its thick ridges would be tricky to hold onto. Just as she was contemplating how to make some kind of harness, the walls shifted. The rungs of the ladder sank back to create a slope. Steep but with the rungs now forming makeshift steps, she would be able to practically walk up.

It was too easy, she knew that. They had to be planning something, no way would they allow her to just walk out of here.

“Come back,” she heard Bashir’s strained voice. He wasn’t dead, which could be a problem if he survived. But he wouldn’t survive.

“I will,” she shouted as she began climbing. “I’ll bring help.”

She made it to the top and found herself in a dark tunnel. There were bound to be obstacles in her way, but she would overcome them. She was holding the most valuable object in the galaxy and nothing was going to take it from her.

Two figures emerged from the dark.

“Hey, Chukka,” said Ubik. “Fancy meeting you here. What you got there?”

(Reboot) Chapter 434

“You want to turn it into a holiday destination?” I said. “Like Jurassic Park?”

“The movie?” said Neil. “No, nothing like that. We don’t want people to get eaten by dinosaurs.” He chuckled at the idea. The others joined in, amused. All apart from Raffo. He just stared at me over the top of his mask, through the safety goggles on top of his regular spectacles.

I was starting to see him as the smart one. Freaky, but smart. Like one of those serial killers who did horrendous things to their victims’ genitalia but also knew a lot about Russian literature and could unlock handcuffs with their diamond cufflinks.

“Yes,” I said to Neil, “exactly like the movie. If you send people over there, monsters will eat them. And from there, things will only get worse, as I think Jurassic World more than proved.”

“We would never put ordinary people at risk like that,” said Neil. “This…” He pointed a hand at the screen. “This is where we want to end up, eventually. It will take time, of course. Years, probably. The first step is to secure a stable connection. Build up a relationship with the people. Establish an exchange of ideas, needs and wants.” His hands were moving around, sculpting objects in the air. “We have so much to learn from each other. So much to gain. It will be a beautiful coming together of worlds.” He interlaced his fingers.

I nodded. “Yeah, but, to recap, monsters will eat your faces.” I made snapping beaks with my two hands and then used both forefingers to point at my face. I too know the ways of the unnecessary mime.

Everyone in the room was smiling politely at my intimation that they were a bunch of clueless morons. My area of expertise, as you know, is tact and diplomacy.

“If you think you’re going to go over there and tame the place where the wild things are, you’re a bunch of clueless morons.” Never hurts to clarify your point. Avoids misunderstandings later.

The smiles wavered a little but held.

“But there are already people living there, aren’t there?” said Dr Chanda. “It can’t be as bad as you’re making out.”

“That’s true,” I admitted. “There are lots of people over there, most of whom don’t get killed by monsters. And the way they do that is by staying as far away from the monsters as possible. They certainly don’t build hotels in the monsters’ territory and fill them up like some kind of all-you-can-eat buffet. You see this area?” I pointed at the far left of the map. “This is called Monsterland. Anyone want to guess why?”

I was being very condescending. It was a lot of fun. I recommend it.

“We know about Monsterland,” said Pixie, eyes sparkling, full of enthusiasm and unaffected by my tone. Clearly I was out of practice. “It’s going to be fascinating exploring a completely new environment with creatures never seen before.” Sparkle, sparkle.

Pixie was the chemist, experts on poisons and acids and stuff, so she probably thought it would be great to run around dodging the puking dragons.

“You want to go even if it means your death?” I said.

“Oh yes,” said Pixie. “Of course.” The others didn’t seem concerned, either.

There was no way to make them feel any kind of trepidation. I understood how they felt. If there was a chance to travel to a newly discovered planet, there will always be a certain type of person who would want to go. Even if you told them everything there would try to kill them, they would still want to go. Probably more so.

You make your plans, you save up what you need, you put your trust in others. The outcome is obvious. Failure. For most people. But people try anyway.

This is nothing new. We all know it will end badly, statistically speaking. And as we watch the odds get longer and longer, we keep trying. We do this mainly through lies.

It’ll be fine.

You’ll feel better in the morning.

Never give up and you’ll get there in the end.

It’s not out of malice, nobody’s forcing you to believe this shit. We want to have sweet nothings whispered in our ears. The person most eager to deceive us is us.

“Do you actually have a way to get over there and do all this gentrification?” I asked them.

“Not as yet,” said Neil. “But that’s why we’re so excited to have you on the team.”

I wasn’t on anyone’s team but it was best to let them think what they wanted. I did believe they were genuinely thrilled about the idea of visiting another world. Whether their intentions were good or bad, they wanted to cross over and have their names immortalised as great pioneers. Not something that’s ever appealed to me. Who cares what people think once you’re dead? I didn’t care that much while I was alive. Once I’m toast, glhf.

“You really don’t think we’ll last five minutes over there do you?” said Carlos. For someone with a very Spanish sounding name he had a very English accent.

“I don’t know,” I said. “Maybe you will. I did, and I’m nobody special. But I can say for sure that your assumptions and expectations are wrong. Going in with armed drones and high-tech weapons won’t help much. You can drop bombs like Platoon but you’ll only end up destroying everything. What’s the point of that? They don’t have any oil, as far as I know. Is it something else you’re after? Unobtanium?”

Neil smiled and made to put his arm around my shoulder. I ducked it and stepped back.

“Sorry, sorry,” he said, holding up his hands. “Didn’t mean anything by it. Just want you to know you’re among friends here. We want to hear what you have to tell us and we will change our approach accordingly. We know we’re not as well-informed as you. Please help guide us. This is quite possibly the most amazing event of our lifetimes, of this century. We don’t want to be remembered as the people who fucked it up.”

He sounded sincere and earnest, two of my least favourite dwarfs. It would be cynical to just presume he was faking it, and I’ve always been one to give people the benefit of the doubt. Don’t roll your eyes. I believed him. He meant what he said. He saw the future as a place of infinite possibilities, at least half of them good ones.

Unfortunately, half of infinity is still infinity. He wasn’t an optimist, he was an idiot, and he was going to get himself and everyone under him killed. Not my problem though.

“There’s so much we can offer them,” said Pixie. “Whatever problems they have, we can help them fix. Slavery, monarchy, patriarchy, we can support them with whatever they need. We can give them electricity, clean water, pestilence-free crops. They’ll be so much better off.”

I know. You’d think a smart person would realise that if we could do all the things she was promising we’d have done them for ourselves. But that’s not how positive people think. Next time will be better, next time will be great. More of the thing that didn’t work last time is all we need.

People think if something’s shit they should get rid of it, but even if they succeed all that happens is that you get a different flavour of shit. And guess what, all varieties of shit taste like shit.

“We should head into dinner,” said Neil. “We don’t want to keep Mr Pelago waiting.”

I didn’t trust these people — who’s going to feel comfortable around happy, confident nerds? — and I definitely didn’t trust Archie, but these people were my only link back to Flatland. And it wasn’t like I had anywhere else to go.

Neil led us back to the main house, to a dining room that had been tastefully furnished and looked like it should have velvet ropes keeping us out. There were people in jumpsuits everywhere, rushing around.

The table wasn’t super long, it was round and could seat maybe twelve. The seven of us fit quite nicely, although Raffo was still in his full get-up so it was a bit like having dinner with Darth Vader. Which wasn’t necessarily a bad thing. You’d know who was going to step up and perform the Heimlich manoeuvre if required. Always good to have these things pre-assigned.

I was the only one of us in a jumpsuit. I matched with the people waiting on us, so that didn’t feel weird. The guys who did the guarding and the cleaning and the serving didn’t seem to talk very much. Their faces were kind of blank and they never stopped moving, except when they were on guard duty, and then they didn’t move at all.

The vibe they gave off was classic Bond villain henchmen. I’d have to check in the basement for a nuclear sub when I got the chance.

One of my fellow jumpsuit enthusiasts whispered something in Neil’s ear as the soup was brought out (not sure what flavour it was — yellow is all I can tell you).

“Mr Pelago is just about to arrive” Neil informed us. “He says we should begin without him.”

Neil was very relaxed, everyone else was helping themselves to bread. Raffo was sitting directly opposite me and was watching me without blinking. And I was watching him. How was he going to eat soup through his mask? Some sort of straw accessory?

“We don’t always eat like this,” said Neil. “This is a special occasion to welcome you.”

“Thanks,” I said, which I don’t like to do. I always sound like I’m being sarcastic. Which I usually am, but it would be nice to be able to modulate it when convenient.

Archie walked in a few minutes later, followed in by three people in dark business suits, one woman and two men. They didn’t sit down with us, they went to a smaller table and opened up their cases to pull out laptops. I guessed they were his assistants or his LAN party for offline games of Halo.

“Wonderful, good to see you again, Colin.” Archie was wearing a different suit to what he’d been wearing earlier. It was the same style but a lighter colour. What did that mean? Was he so rich he changed between lunch and dinner, or just a very messy eater?

“Nice to be here.” People like it when you lie to be polite. Shows a willingness to corrupt yourself for their benefit, and who doesn’t like that?

“I hear you had a little run-in with the competition on your way here.” Food arrived in front of Archie as he sat down. Not what the rest of us had been served, this was a big plate of red pincers. Someone tied a bib around his neck from behind like they were about to garotte him. Archie ignored them, like they weren’t even there. “I hope you can see how important a person you are now.”

How do you respond to a comment like that? Feel flattered?

“I’m only important to them the way a heart donor is to someone on the transplant register,” I said. “It’s of limited-time value to them, and none at all for me.”

“Ha!” snorted Archie, biting into the claws without cracking them open first. They weren’t crab or lobster, by the way. I’ve seen what they look like, and this wasn’t that. I was too afraid to ask in case it turned out to be some previously-thought extinct prehistoric beetle. Not that I care about endangered species, I’m just squeamish. “That’s as maybe, but they will no doubt continue the pursuit. The news is out and the race is on. Which makes you extraordinarily valuable, and not just for a limited time, I assure you. Anything you need, just ask.”

Our next course arrived, a block of dark blue jelly. I stared at it as everyone dug in.

“Try it,” said Neil. “It’s surprisingly delicious. Raffo’s work. Potato-based, grows anywhere, has a thousand and one uses.”

“Potatoes aren’t blue,” I pointed out.

“The potato is the lion of the vegetable kingdom” said Raffo, in a distorted voice. “Not only a superlative source of nourishment that grows quickly and is endlessly versatile — grill them, fry them, bake them — they can also be used as building materials, weapons, for alcohol production, you can even use the skins to make garments.”

Definitely serial killer potential, taking the skins of his victims and turning them into clothes.

“You underestimate the potato at your peril.” He hadn’t touched his soup and his jelly was just sitting there, wobbling slightly.

“So, Colin,” said Archie, yellow liquid dribbling down his chin. “I would like you to start by visiting each department tomorrow.”

“I gave him a quick tour earlier,” said Neil. “To give him his bearings.”

“Good. But from tomorrow, I want all doors open to our newest member. Every question answered without reservation.”

“Full access?” said Neil, sounding a little surprised.

“The fullest.”

This was what I had wanted. My plan was to find a way to convince Archie to let me see what they were really working on and he had just given me the keys to the vault. Good Bond villains always let you into their lair. It’s getting out again where things get tricky. It was a good first step, though. Now I just had to find what they were really working on.

“Shouldn’t we have him screened for contamination first?” asked Raffo.

“No,” said Archie. “He’s clean, we’ve checked. You can remove that mask, Jermaine.”

Raffo looked at me, then at his jelly. He pulled off his mask, which gave a hiss as it came away from his face. A pungent aroma hit me, like walking into a chip shop. The man lived and breathed potatoes.

Raffo stuck his fork in his jelly block, lifted up the whole thing to his mouth, and slurped it into his mouth in one instantaneous inhale.

“And of course,” said Archie, “I would like you to answer any questions my people have for you.”

“No problem,” I said. “I’ll answer to the best of my ability.” Ha ha, sucker. His remote lie detectors would show that as a totally true statement. Wait till he found out what ‘the best of my ability’ meant.

I ate all my jelly like a good boy. It wasn’t too bad, tasted like chicken. Dessert was an orange block of jelly that tasted sweet and potatoey.

Archie spent the rest of the meal telling me how wonderful it would be once they started construction on the marvellous buildings they had planned. The lure of modernity would be too much for them to resist over there, apparently. He went on and on about how lives would be improved and happiness would be widespread. My guess was his plan involved narcotics. Get all the monsters addicted to painkillers and antidepressants.

I got a few questions, but Archie did a nice job of letting me avoid answering until tomorrow. He even offered me drugs to help me sleep — via Dr Chanda — so I’d be fresh and raring to go.

I declined and said I’d be fine. I was already getting sleepy.

When I returned to my room, escorted by Neil, I found my clothes had been returned, cleaned and ironed, and there was a computer on the desk. Neil helped me get on the internet and left me to it. I got the feeling they were allowing me a little space before the tsunami that was going to hit in the morning.

The door had a lock, which was nice of them. Give me that false sense of security every guy needs. I locked it anyway.

I browsed the internet for a while, catching up on the events of the last four years. It was shocking and hilarious and terrible. Not necessarily in that order. I considered old Earth to be a shit place full of vicious bastards, new Earth was ten times worse and with some real catastrophes. Could the end of Game of Thrones really have been that bad? The idea that none of this was real was very comforting, so I clung to it.

Eventually, I crashed on my bed wearing my jumpsuit. I had a lot of stuff to figure out before they worked out I knew nothing of any use and got rid of me. I had to play it smart and prioritise what my next move was going to be. There were probably lots of hidden cameras and microphones everywhere, so jerking off was going to be a real puzzle to solve.

I was woken by a gentle knock on the door sometime in the middle of the night and almost fell out of the bed. My instinct when disturbed while sleeping was to start running for cover immediately. A little groggy, I opened the door to find the dark lord of the Sith. Raffo had his mask back on.

He put a finger to where his lips would be. “Don’t say anything. Your room is bugged. They hear everything.”

I looked at him questioningly but kept my mouth shut

“This mask distorts my voice so the mics won’t pick it up. I’d like to speak to you. May I come in.”

I shrugged and stepped aside.

“Things are not as they seem,” said Raffo, walking in.

He turned around and handed me a mask like his. I put it on.

“What’s up, Raffo? Am I in grave danger?” I asked. Now we both sounded like idiots.

“No, but I will be if I’m discovered.” He took something out of his pocket.

“Is that a potato?”

“Yes.”

I waited for some sort of explanation. None came. “Is it an explosive potato? Do we have to defuse it before it kills us all?”

“No, exploding potatoes are much bigger than this. Take it. You’ll need it.”

He handed it to me. It felt like a normal potato. Maris Piper, if I had to guess.

“What do I do with it?”

“It will protect you from demons.”

This was getting better and better. Anti-demon potato tech. Finally!

“Lot of demons around here, are there?” I asked.

“No, only one,” said Raffo. “How do you think we know so much about Flatland?”

“The demon told you? So what? Why are you here in the dead of night handing out potatoes?”

“In order to get the demon to cooperate, we have to give it a sacrifice. You.”

“Me? Oh, I get it. I know it seems unlikely, but I’m not actually a virgin.”

“No one from here will do, they’ve tried. They need someone from over there. It’s to do with the energy in your body, it has to be the right frequency. You have the right frequency. You understand?”

Raffo, it seems, was trying to save my life. Nice of him. People didn’t usually bother.

“And you want to help me because…?”

“I want you to help me kill it. Evil must not be allowed to live.” Raffo sounded very sure of himself. He also sounded incredibly pompous.

“Well, first, that’s going to be a hell of a to-do list if you’re planning to eradicate all evil. And second, not all demons are evil. They’re just like people — only most of them are evil. I know some very reasonable ones. Demons, that is. I don’t know any reasonable people.”

“This demon is evil. It has killed many, many people. But together, we can defeat it.” Raffo was all puffed up and ready to save the world. “You have the right energy.” First time anyone said that to me.

I yawned, ready to go back to bed. Demons could wait until after breakfast, surely.

“This demon, has it got a name?”

“Yes. It’s called Cheng.”

“Okay,” I said. “Lead the way.”

Book 2 – 86: Divide and Conquer

Third Quadrant.

Asteroid Tethari.

Asteroid Core.

 

Point-Two wasn’t sure if sending Ubik away was a good idea or not. Being in this situation, his mind part of an alien network he neither understood or felt comfortable in, made it very hard to be sure of anything.

He had expected the sudden introduction of a several millennia’s worth of alien culture into his head all at once to have completely broken him, and it did feel like that at first, but at the point where he felt like his mind would collapse in on itself, zenity kicked in.

The calmness he had inherited from his birth on a ship without gravity had enveloped him, and for just a brief moment, he was insulated from the overwhelming deluge of information flowing through him.

He was able to recognise small bits of data that were relevant to his current predicament. The Antecessor method of disseminating information was non-linear and very densely packed, so everything you wanted to know came with everything you didn’t, but he pulled himself clear and now he was able to keep his head above water and only dip in and out when he wanted to.

There was now a picture of the entire asteroid, inside and out, held in his mind. But it was off to the side. A glance every now and again was about all he could withstand.

The frightening pale humanoids were the most noticeable element, because they were so numerous and so fast. And so angry. Ubik seemed the perfect answer.

Ubik was capable of saving them all, but he was also capable of dooming everyone. At least if he was here, it would be possible to keep an eye on him and be warned early of any disaster he might create. Good in theory, but there was no guarantee that being forewarned would be of any benefit.

But Point-Two had decided it would be better to put Ubik’s skills to work against the creatures emerging from the centre of the asteroid. The centre that was the only place hidden from his sight.

Information on the creatures, like everything else, was heavily diluted by so much more But he had divined that they were a defence mechanism, built into the asteroid, released when the asteroid’s precious cargo became endangered.

It wasn’t clear what they released from. There was something at the centre of the asteroid, carefully and thoroughly shielded. Information about it was passed to him in an alien form, ideas and images that made his head feel bloated. Whatever was at the asteroid’s core, it produced a massive amount of energy, it was incredibly dense, it contained organic life, and it could act independently of both the Antecessors and the Intercessors.

Point-Two had tried to probe what was down there but it had caused him intense pain. He didn’t want to break something in his brain out of curiosity.

What he did know was that the creatures were considered lethal to other droids. They wouldn’t be confronted under any circumstances, and only disaster would follow if they were. How could that not remind him of a certain someone?

“You will fail,” said the head facing Point-Two. Its features were similar to the creatures, blank and featureless, but now that he had the ability to see things through the Intercessors’ own apparatus, he could tell that what he was seeing was a screen, something to hide behind.

“You don’t know that,” said Point-Two.

“There is too much data for you to process. What you have seen is a minuscule amount. Your mind will soon be overwhelmed and the goblins will erase your kind from this asteroid.”

“Sorry, the goblins?”

“It is the closest approximation in your visual lexicon,” said the Intercessor.

“Okay. You could be right, but I’m willing to bet our goblin will beat yours.”

The Intercessor’s blank face seemed to twitch. “The one you call Ubik is not enough. You need more than one.”

“No one needs more than one Ubik,” said Point-Two. “You might fear these goblins but there is always a chance they can be beaten.”

It was strange to be speaking to this projection face to face when they could just as easily be speaking within the asteroid’s huge internal network. It had taken him a little time to understand what he had been given access to, but now that he was fully integrated into it, he could reach out to any part of it with his thoughts (almost any part), including the Antecessors (which he had no intention of doing) and to the Intercessor in front of him.

But speaking face to face had the advantage of keeping their conversation private. They weren’t the only ones with access to the network.

“There is a small possibility of success,” said the Intercessor begrudgingly. Point-two was able to see past the reluctant admission. The Intercessors were the ones who had failed. They had had a mission, to protect and nurture. They had been forced into a position where they now relied on Ubik. He fully understood the reason they felt uncomfortable about it.

“Any possibility of success is worth pursuing,” said Point-Two. “You can improve his chances by aiding us.”

The Intercessor did not reply. The blank face remained blank.

“What’s happening?” asked Fig. He had been the most patient out of all of them. His only wish was to save his father, and that had been taken away from him, but he remained calm, waiting for his opportunity.

Where Ubik was happy to act without thought, relying on his ability to improvise his way out of any disaster (that he had caused), Fig was the opposite. He waited and observed, learning as much as possible before taking action.

Now that his father’s presence was revealed as fake, he was slowly pressing the Intercessor for the truth.

Point-Two reached out and grabbed Fig, pulling him up and closer. It was almost second-nature now. He wasn’t sure how he was doing it, but the gravitational field around him was easily manipulated in this form.

“The asteroid is a nest,” said Point-Two, using words which weren’t particularly accurate but they were the closest he could find. “It was designed to gestate some kind of advanced organic lifeform, but not everyone was happy about the idea.”

“They are necessary for our protection,” said the Intercessor.

“Protection from what?” asked Fig.

“From you,” said the Intercessor.

“A lot of your information is wrong,” said Point-Two.

“Data cannot be wrong if it is accurate.”

“Long-term projections can be,” said Fig, “if you can’t correctly predict future variations in the environment, your accurate data will do you no good. Nothing lives in a vacuum, not even in space. You are using the same methods you used in your previous life in the hope the universe has changed to accommodate them.”

Fig’s words were concise and precise.

“Projections are in line with sensor readings,” said the Intercessor, unmoved by Fig’s analysis. “This has all been foreseen. You are within anticipated parameters. We were expecting you, it was only a matter of time. Once Ubik has been removed, you will no longer have a statistical advantage. Projections will return to within more favourable limits and then the threat you pose will be neutralised.”

They expected Ubik to fail. They were counting on it. He was being allowed control, or at least wasn’t being fought for it, because so far he was doing exactly what they wanted him to. Sending Ubik to face the goblins was what they wanted and Point-Two had made it easy for them.

Point-Two had known that and done it anyway, just as he knew the Guardian was going to attempt to escape the rock with her prize. She wanted Ubik, and she was expecting a rescue party to come get her. She probably thought she could find her way out and then they’d nuke the asteroid from orbit, or whatever it was the Central Authority used to destroy planetoids these days.

Of course, Ubik wouldn’t allow that. He wouldn’t miss the chance to meet new lifeforms and make them his pets. And having Rex to help him would give him the edge. Point-Two didn’t know what changes Ubik had made to the Rex module, but he was sure they wouldn’t please the Guardian once she found out.

The Intercessors and the Guardian both suffered from the same problem — overconfidence in their own abilities. They thought they had a firm grasp on the situation. Point-Two did not have those illusions. He had spent too much time around Ubik to think he had a grasp on anything. He just waited for things to fall apart and then did his best not to get hit by the debris.

“What about my father?” asked Fig. Point-Two could tell he had been waiting to ask, being very careful to underplay his concerns. “Where is he?”

The Intercessor head didn’t reply. Fig turned to face Point-Two.

“I haven’t found him,” said Point-Two. “I’ve searched the whole asteroid. He isn’t in any of the places I have access to. The signal we got from the seventh level isn't there anymore. I think it never was.”

“What about the places you don’t have access to? Could he be there?”

“There’s only one place. The centre of the asteroid. It’s totally dark to me and I don’t know how to access it.”

Fig nodded. “He’s probably there.”

The Intercessor still didn’t speak.

“Can you send me there?” said Fig.

Point-Two took a moment to search for a way down to the darkness. He couldn’t see into it but he could see the area around it.

The asteroid became denser and more compact the closer to its centre he looked, but the goblins had dug tunnels through the rock to get out. They were gone now, the last of them already emerged and inside the chambers containing the large organics. They were fighting a small group of people who had found their way into the lower levels of the facility. More would be coming and things would only get messier.

“I think so,” said Point-Two. “It’ll be a little cramped, and there’s no guarantee your father’s down there.”

“That’s okay. From what I’ve been able to deduce, it would be too much of a risk to kill me deliberately, and I can avoid most natural disasters.” He looked at the Intercessor head, almost daring it to contradict him. There was no response.

“Alright,” said Point-Two. “I expect Ubik will get us all killed soon anyhow. You might as well go say goodbye to your dad.”

Fig smiled ruefully. “I think Ubik will deal with the goblins.”

“Yes. I think they’ll make him their leader and start a galactic empire,” said Point-Two.

“Emperor Ubik,” said Fig with a shudder.

The Intercessor head still wasn’t saying anything. That probably meant it wanted Fig to go look into the darkness. Usually, you wouldn’t want to do what your opponent wanted you to do. Even if you were able to rise to the challenge, your moves became predictable.

Unless, that was, you didn’t resist when they thought you would and followed their desire with unexpected enthusiasm.

Point-Two reached out with his mind and opened another portal, this one on the opposite side of the chamber to the one he’d made for Ubik and the Guardian. Here, in this chamber, his control was strongest.

A section below them spiralled open. He moved Fig towards it. Ubik one way and Fig the other, while he stayed in the middle. It would be interesting to see which of them was going to be the busiest. Not him, he hoped.

Fig dropped down. Once the gravity flow caught him, Point-Two let him go.

Now it was just him and the Intercessor. The blank head gave the impression it was happy with the way things were going. Point-Two found it unbearably smug.

“Your siblings are coming,” said Point-Two. He could feel the Antecessors gathering for a big push. They were above the goblins, clamouring to come down and take the lower levels. Their eagerness spread through the network like humming wires.

“They will not come here,” said the Intercessor. “They will go to the surface and wait.”

“Wait for what?” asked Point-Two.

“The hunters.”

Point-Two looked through the data streams flowing through him for any information on hunters. He found it mixed in with the limited information on the goblins.

Goblins were grown in the dark. They were released to fight off invaders. That was about all there was, apart from a small addendum. They started off small and pale, but perversely strong. But they kept growing and becoming more and more violent. Then they needed to put to sleep, literally or figuratively. They couldn’t be put back where they came from, so they were stored in the reflection of their birthplace. The image became clear and distinct as Point-Two focused on it. Inside a wormhole.

Point-Two realised what was at the centre of the asteroid and what was producing the gravitational shifts. An infinitely-small wormhole, no bigger than an atom. Anything bigger would be too powerful to control, but even at a microscopic level, it would be able to manipulate large dense masses, vibrating them to produce polarised gravity waves.

It wasn’t the asteroid that could be moved with an alien engine, it was the portable black hole at its centre that the asteroid was designed to keep in place, like an anchor.

“How long before they arrive?” asked Point-Two.

“Soon,” said the Intercessor.

They would find several ships in their way. That would take care of one problem. Ubik would deal with the goblins and the group they were fighting with. Fig was handling the black hole heart of the asteroid. Which left Point-Two with the smug Intercessor. How would Ubik handle this kind of situation?

“Nothing for us to do but wait, then,” said Point-Two. “I don’t suppose you have any sandwiches lying around?”

Book 2 – 85: Point of No Return

Third Quadrant.

Asteroid Tethari.

Asteroid Core.

 

Ubik could sense PT panicking. It wasn’t because he was good at picking up how people were feeling — that was one of his least developed skills.

And it wasn’t because he had a special bond with PT — although he did like to think of them as good collaborators. And by collaborators, he meant the way he could get PT to collaborate with what he wanted him to do.

No, the real reason he sensed that PT was panicking inside the narrow space he had ‘collaborated’ PT into entering was the way his feet, which were slightly sticking out of the end, were violently shaking.

It was the shake of someone not very happy with their position in life. The involuntary shuddering of someone having a hysterical episode. There was also the screaming.

“Stay cool and don’t panic,” Ubik shouted into the crawlspace.

Then the feet stopped shaking. For a moment, Ubik thought he’d made a terrible mistake. He had assumed PT’s usually stoic and implacable demeanour would make him the ideal person to undergo what was undoubtedly going to be a horrific and painful experience.

Other people might have a breakdown or lose the will to live, but not PT. There was no doubt in Ubik’s mind that PT would grit his teeth and hold on despite the agony, just so he could have the chance of getting revenge on Ubik. His persistence was the key to his usefulness.

Ubik considered pulling PT out to see if he was alright, and then decided it would be better to push him further in, to see if that jump-started something.

The lights flickering and pulsing through the lattice of droid parts began to slow down and move in a more organised fashion.

Organised in the mundane sense. They had been organised before, they just looked chaotic. But now, they followed a much simpler pattern.

He heard Fig’s voice, sounding surprised and confused. Ubik pushed through the lattice, slipping through gaps, no longer concerned about making contact with the structure. There was no need to worry about attracting the Intercessors’ attention now.

“Hey!” he called out, waving to get their attention.

Ramon Ollo’s head slowly turned around. It moved a lot more stiffly than before. The lights around Ubiks shifted in sync with the head. There was no mistaking it. It was hard to interpret what the lights were saying — the data was moving too fast to be able to read it — but the matching patterns were very, very obvious. The head and the lattice were linked. And they were both moving too slowly to be under the control of the Intercessors or Ramon Ollo. Which left only one other person.

“What do you want?” said PT.

Ubik smiled. The face was still Ramon’s, but the snippy attitude was unmistakably PT’s.

“You’ve taken control,” said Ubik, grinning. “I knew you could do it.”

He had had complete confidence in PT, the ideal candidate. But to do so quickly, to push both the Intercessor intelligence and Ramon Ollo out of the way and assume control, that was even more than Ubik had hoped for. It wasn’t often Ubik’s projections were exceeded. His projections tended to be quite excessive to begin with.

“Taken control of what?” said PT. The face wasn’t quite mirroring PT’s tone, suggesting some latency issues. He should have shoved PT further into the crawlspace, just as he had thought.

“The asteroid,” said Ubik gleefully, looking around for any loose connections. “You are the asteroid.”

Point-Two looked confused. The mirroring was improving, the eyes were already becoming better coordinated. Perhaps there was a machine-learning component to this tech.

“Ubik, get me out of there.”

“Out of where?” Ubik turned around, ready to go back in and help PT assimilate even further into the mind of the asteroid. “You’re already out.”

“Ubik…”

There was something in the tone of PT’s voice that drew Ubik’s attention back to the irritated head. And then he was flying through the air, narrowly missing smashing into the structure around him, and heading for the irate face.

But rather than looking annoyed, the head looked astonished. The eyes were wide and the mouth formed an O shape.

Ubik felt much the same. PT had already learned how to control the gravity inside the chamber. Ubik had expected that to take a lot longer, requiring a lot of trial and error to get the fine control required to manage such powerful forces.

But PT’s familiarity with gravitational forces of varying intensities had solved the problem instinctively. He was a natural.

Ubik giggled with delight as he was hurled across the chamber. How good was he to set this up so perfectly?

He stopped suddenly, fixed in place in front of Ramon Ollo’s nose. Actually, now that he saw it from close up, didn’t it resemble PT’s nose? Some sort of mental transformation being manifested through the projection?

“What was the point of this, Ubik?”

“This is our chance,” said Ubik, “your big opportunity. You have control. You are the one who can choose what to do?”

“Like what?” PT’s face became twisted with concern.

“Whatever you want,” said Ubik. “Just do it quickly before you lose control and your brain cells get fried.”

PT’s face went from concerned to horrified. “What does that mean? How long have I got?”

“Hard to say. Maybe a long time. Maybe not. It’s a lot of information your brain’s processing right now. More than an average brain can handle. Don’t worry, I’d rate yours as slightly above average.”

“Then why didn’t you put yourself in there?” said PT. “You’re the one with all the free space in your head.”

“Then who would be out here to protect me? You? You don’t even know what threats you‘re facing right now.”

“What threats am I facing right now?”

“Oh, hard to say. A lot of them are hypothetical. I’m sure the Intercessors and Ramon Ollo will try to kill you long before any of the other variables have a chance to.”

PT cringed with what seemed to be pain. “It’s too much. I can see all of it at once. My brain feels like it’s going to burst.”

“You’ll be fine,” said Ubik. “Just focus on my voice. You’ll be too annoyed to worry about all the other stuff.”

“What the hell kind of plan is that? You want to deliberately piss me off so I focus all my anger on you and block out the infinite amount of data being squeezed into my head?”

“See? Working already, isn’t it?”

You couldn’t argue with results, that’s what Grandma always told him. She was right as usual.

“It had to be you, PT. This place is built on gravity. Everything here is powered by and controlled by gravity. It’s completely different from how we understand the science of gravitational fields, but you use gravity without needing to understand it. You go by instinct and feel. You’re the only one here who has a chance of maintaining control over the asteroid and stopping it from breaking apart. I mean, it’s only a small chance, but try your best.”

“You’re wrong,” said PT. “I’m not the only one. Gravity isn’t just powering this place, it’s keeping it in check. It’s being used to hold back those things I saw. It’s a force field used to create a prison, and I can’t keep the walls up. They’re coming, Ubik.”

There was that. Ubik had expected the asteroid to house some secrets, but he had only considered the Antecessors and the technology they had already shown. These creatures PT had mentioned didn’t make any sense. Since when did Antecessors employ organic beings?

Then again, organics, the augments found on most Ant sites, weren’t they organic in origin? Their purpose, which no one had ever been able to determine, had to involve these creatures in some way. They would be interesting to study.

“You should try to direct them over here,” said Ubik. “We can make friends with them. It’ll be fun.”

“What fun?” said PT. “They’re going to kill us.”

Ubik clicked his tongue and shook his head. “Don’t judge them just because they’re a bit worked up at the moment.”

“I’m not,” said PT. “I’m judging them on the single screaming thought in all of their heads to kill everything that’s in their path.”

“Oh,” said Ubik. “No chance you’re mistaking their intentions? Sometimes people are all mad but really they haven’t eaten in a while and they have low blood sugar. Maybe they’ll feel better after a snack?”

“They don’t have mouths,” said PT.

“So they can’t bite or eat me,” said Ubik, doing his best to put a positive spin on things.

“No,” said PT. “But they have claws that can dig through solid rock, so they can probably tear you into tiny pieces.”

“Okay, but you could probably stop them from doing that if you put your mind to it, couldn't you?”

PT didn’t say anything in response.

“I’ll take that as a yes,” said Ubik.

“They aren’t the only problem,” said PT. “We’ve got ships approaching. VendX, Seneca, Central Authority.”

“Finally,” said Guardian Tezla.

“Don’t be so pleased,” said PT. “They’re going to arrive at the same time. I doubt it will be in the spirit of mutual assistance. There’s also the Antecessors. They’re aware of us. They’re just waiting to see who—”

PT’s face distorted and flickered.

Ubik looked behind him. The pulsing lights had changed pattern again.

“Yes, I see now,” said the head. It no longer sounded like PT. It didn’t look like him, either.

“Father?” said Fig. “Did you defeat the Intercessor?”

“Very interesting.” Ramon Ollo’s head looked around. “So this is how they controlled the asteroid.” He returned his gaze to Ubik who was still hanging in front of him. “You arranged the pathways to isolate their routines. I must thank you for that. What was your name again?”

Ubik found himself being moved from side to side. “Wellden, sir. First name, Goodjob”

“Goodjob Wellden?”

“Thank you very much,” said Ubik. “I’ve always dreamed of hearing you say those words to me.”

Ubik was turned over and over. “This level of control is astonishing. Even more than I expected.”

“Father, you have full control now?”

“Yes. I see everything.”

“Then you can see you have to give control back,” said Ubik. “If you can access the pathways I built, so can they.”

“It is no longer an issue,” said Ramon. “The network you built, it is the only route and I have already taken it. It is no longer needed.”

Suddenly, Ubik was flying across the chamber, back towards the lattice. But he didn’t slow down as he got closer. He smashed into it, sending pieces flying.

His suit protected him but it still hurt. He made himself smaller to try to pass through the gaps, but he was bounced around with precise guidance to hit the key structural parts. Droid parts floated free.

Ubik had hoped Ramon Ollo would be so impressed with his work, he would offer Ubik a position in his lab immediately. Things weren’t going as well as he’d hoped. He slammed into another bunch of droid parts. They broke into pieces.

And then they stopped, hanging motionless, before returning to their original position, snapping back together. They all did, reforming the lattice perfectly.

A second head appeared. This one was very clearly recognisable.

“You aren’t Ramon Ollo,” said PT.

He was a quick learner. He’d figured out how to reestablish pathways through the network quickly enough not to get disconnected. A quick learner who excelled under desperate conditions. Ubik was born to be his teacher.

“He isn’t my father?” said Fig, a pained look on his face.

“It’s a copy,” said PT. “They didn’t keep back part of your father’s mind, they copied the parts they could as best they could. But I can see their pathways. There’s only one entity.”

“A mimic?” said Ubik. “Makes sense. The real Ramon Ollo wouldn’t be this easy to beat.”

Ramon Ollo’s face changed. It became a blank slate. The lattice behind PT began breaking up and spreading out, leaving only the section that housed PT’s body.

“Wait,” said PT. “We can help you save them.”

The flying droid parts stopped.

“How?” said a cold, emotionless voice.

Ubik found himself flying across the room once more.

“Him. He can save them. I don’t know what they are, but you’re here to protect them, aren’t you? He’s the only one who can help you. Even if you kill us, they will be destroyed. He’s your only chance. ”

“He can not be controlled. He can not be trusted. He is unreliable.”

“How long is this list going to be?” asked Ubik.

“He doesn’t have to be controlled,” said PT. “You just need to give him a problem to solve.”

Ubik was raised up to face the blank face. His suit separated from his body and broke down into its component parts, and just hung there. One small black rectangle moved away from the rest, towards the Guardian.

She caught it, a look of surprise on her face. “Rex?” It jumped out of her hand and slotted into her waist. The suit lit up.

Ubik followed, flying into the Guardian’s arms.

“Take him,” said PT.

“Take him where?” asked the Guardian.

There was a grating sound. A hole spun open above them.

“Follow the lighted path,” said PT. “When you get to the room at the end, leave him there. This whole quadrant will be destroyed if you don’t.”

Tezla looked like she wanted to say something, but she grabbed Ubik instead. The suit fired thrusters in the arms and legs and she shot into the air, dragging a suitless Ubik with her.

“What am I supposed to do?” Ubik shouted.

“You’ll think of something,” said PT.

He was probably right. It was a bit chilly without his suit, but that was okay. PT had given Rex back to the Guardian, which made her one of the team. Although it wasn’t the old Rex. This Rex was more of an Ubik upgrade.

(Reboot) Chapter 433

There was a car upside down on the lawn. Not the sort of garden-based violence you see very often. Occasionally, you might see a gnome with a fishing rod that’s been knocked over by cat, or a couple of pigeon feathers implying an urban fox got lucky in the middle of the night, but a four-wheel-drive, six-seater on its roof with men crawling out of the window, not so much. Maybe in Peckham, but not out in the country.

The missile hadn’t struck the car itself, it had hit the ground, ripping up the turf in a mad explosion which sent the SUV arse over tit to land with an upside-down thump and sending soil shooting into the air like a brown fountain (not a euphemism).

Fortunately, nothing blew up like the movies keep insisting should happen any time a vehicle hits as much as a pothole. Other than that, it had played out very much like an 80s action flick. It would have qualified as a 90s action flick if it turned out the person I trusted most had betrayed me, but since I didn’t trust anyone, I was able to skip that whole decade.

The men who had been inside the lead car wriggled out, dirt still falling on them, and stumbled towards the cars behind which had stopped at the realisation that they too might be launched into the nearest flower bed.

The cars spun around in a tight circle — absolutely ruining the perfectly manicured grass — and ran away. Seemed a lot of trouble to go to if they were only going to leg it as soon as things got a bit hairy. So much for their promise to keep safe — couldn’t even protect themselves.

More of Archie’s men came out of the little shed by the gates and gave pursuit, on foot. I don’t know what happened to the first bunch of security guards who had gone out to deal with my insistent suitors, but there was apparently no shortage of bland white guys in baseball caps to send out.

The people who I had just met, who I had considered a bunch of nerds, probably stuck in a lab sixteen hours a day, shoving Vitamin D pills into their mouths every four hours to make up for the lack of sunshine, were all smiling broadly and giving each other high-fives. No, none of them were American, so they had absolutely no excuse for this disgusting behaviour. They were just filled with the exuberance of confident, happy nerds doing what they loved. It was sickening.

Some of them probably had partners, spouses, maybe even children. It made a mockery of the entire point of being a nerd. I was tempted to confiscate their thick spectacles and order them to get LASIK surgery, be the normies they clearly were in their hearts.

I’m all for people being left to do whatever makes them happy, but you have to draw a line somewhere. That’s the problem with removing a natural predator from an enclosed environment. For years, people have tried to paint bullies as the bad guys, tormenting anyone smarter or weaker than themselves.

Oh, what a Utopia we would be left with if only big boys stopped beating on small boys, and mean girls stopped saying bitchy things to quiet girls.

We shamed them, restrained them, expelled them and filed charges against their parents for damages, and it worked. They went away, driven underground to perform their bully rituals in secret. Hurray.

And the nerds were left unmolested to flourish. And my how they flourished

There’s nothing cute about obsessive little oiks who think they know more than everyone else, believe me. Once they have the power to make everyone do what they think is right, we’re all fucked. You don’t want someone who thinks Batman has the right views on law and order to run any kind of governmental department or even the local corner shop.

“That was a bit excessive, wasn’t it?” I asked Neil, who had been controlling the drone. “You’ve ruined the lawn with that missile. Won’t the police want to know why you’re setting off explosives in your front garden?”

“Not at all,” said Neil with a big grin. “No explosives, just compressed gas. It’s part of our land reclamation and redistribution project. Enables a small town to be built on just about any kind of land in less than a day. Should prove useful in an alien environment, don’t you think?”

The flying suitcase with its four propellers pointed up hovered in place. The missile had ploughed into the ground just in front of the lead vehicle and then erupted from below, leaving behind a deep hole and the world’s biggest divot.

“It’s just a very mobile bulldozer, is it?” I asked.

“I’d say it’s more than that,” said Neil. He pressed something on his phone and a large blade appeared from under the drone’s chassis. “It can also cut grass and trim hedges.” The blade swished from side to side like a scythe primed to decapitate a large crowd.

“This is what you’ve been researching?”

“We experiment with a number of specialised units, this being one,” said Neil. “They can get a bit noisy but otherwise perfectly safe. The police are well aware of what we get up to here, no need to worry about them. No need to concern yourself about these other fellows bothering you, either. They try hard but they lack any real conviction. Just following orders. Makes for very poor agents of a cause. Believers do a lot better. Much more committed. You’ll find the people who work here much more passionate about what we do. We see this as an important next step for mankind. We’re all looking forward to working with you, Colin.” He smiled.

It almost seemed genuine, but you can’t let yourself get carried away by sentiment, especially when people are generally a bunch of shits. The others were giving me warm, friendly vibes too. Devious bastards.

“Shall we go in?” said Neil. “The ground staff will take care of all this. Be back to normal in a few hours.”

More people in jumpsuits and baseball caps rushed around with picks and shovels. The car was back on its wheels and others were filling in the hole with spades and rakes, and rolls of fresh turf were ready to be laid.

“What about the car?” I asked.

“Oh, finders keepers,” said one of the other men, this one a little on the swarthy side, maybe Mediterannean. “Carlos Noriega, no relation.” He shook my hand. “I’m in charge of transportation and travel. We’ll be able to use this beauty for spare parts. Got to make use of whatever’s at hand, right? I’d love to sit down and pick your brain when you have a free moment, if you wouldn’t mind. The terrain, the roads, the common forms of transport, so much to ask you.”

We began moving towards the entrance. Once I was inside, I’d be at their mercy, trapped behind locked doors. Although, it wasn’t like I was footloose and fancy-free out here.

“Give him a chance to settle in first, Carlos,” said a tall and big-boned woman with dark hair and olive complexion. “Dr Chanda, I’m head of the psych unit. Important we prepare our people for what they’ll face over there. Culture shock, shell shock, electrical shocks, we want everyone’s head to be in the right place. Hoping you can help with that.”

I nodded and made no promises.

We reached the entrance which was opened inwards by two more men in jumpsuits. This place was run like a prison, or possibly a lunatic asylum.

“I’ll leave you to it, them,” said Cherry.

I turned to say goodbye to my lawyer. Behind her, the gates, which had fallen flat on the drive, had already been lifted up and slotted back into place, some sweeping up got rid of the sprays of dirt that had gotten everywhere, and it was already looking like it had before the enemy incursion.

It was quite impressive how calmly and efficiently they’d handled everything. Almost like it wasn’t their first time.

“Are you still my lawyer if I get into trouble?” I asked her.

“Sure,” said Chery. “Call me any time, as long as it’s between business hours, and never on the weekend. I’m sure we’ll be meeting again, Colin.”

“A premonition?”

“Call it a feeling.” She went back to her car and got in.

“Won’t they follow you and try to get answers?” I called after her.

She looked out of the window with a fag in her mouth, lit and fuming. “I’m looking forward to it. Give me a chance to brush up on my languages. My Mandarin is very rusty.” She sped off, gravel flying, scaring some of the ground staff still working to get the lawn back to looking country-estate pretty.

“You’ve known Mrs Hinton long?” asked a woman with a bowl haircut and glasses that took up half of her face.

“Mrs Hinton? No, I met her today.” Cherry was married? I wondered what her husband was like.

“Very good. I’m Pixie — I know, terrible name. Terrible parents, that’s the source if you’re wondering. I’m the alchemist of the party — no, actually, just the chemist, mineralogist, poisons and reactive agents scientist. Toxicity is my speciality. Good things are coming, I can tell.” She gave me a long look full of optimism. “Lots of new things to learn about now that we have you. Do come inside.”

There was one other woman who I hadn’t been introduced to so far, a beefy woman with forearms the size of my thighs. She had a square, asexual sort of face but very round, sexual breasts that jutted out a fair way from her chest.

“That’s Tammy,” said Pixie. “Don’t stare, she gets very self-conscious about those enormous mammaries of hers. She’s liable to punch you in the face if she catches you gawping, to cover her embarrassment.”

“What does she do?” I asked, careful to keep my gaze respectful. She had landmark buttocks, too.

“She’s the engineer. Fix anything mechanical or electronic. Knows how to charge up flat batteries just by rubbing them.” Pixie sounded impressed.

Inside the house there was a large reception area, lots of doors going off in various directions, and numerous people in blue jumpsuits but no baseball caps. They all wore glasses and gloves, and face masks but not as elaborate as Raffo’s.

He was watching me from behind all his protective clothing but hadn’t said anything. I got the feeling he would corner me at some point and try to sell me something. Maybe an idea, maybe a timeshare in Spain,

They were all older than me but not by very much. In their thirties most likely. Everyone seemed very friendly and warm. To each other and towards me. A happy, excited bunch of nerds working on the discovery of the century. I could understand their excitement. I wanted nothing to do with it. It was the sort of excitement liable to get me killed.

“I’ll show you to your room,” said Neil, “and then a quick tour, after which we can reconvene in Meeting Room A for a short discussion, Q&A. You can ask us what we’re up to and we’ll ask you for a brief summary of what you’ve experienced over there. Sound good?”

“Sounds wonderful,” said Pixie. “I can’t wait.”

“Don’t you think it would be prudent,” said Raffo, his voice distorted by his mask, “if we did a full medical check first? We don’t know what he’s been exposed to or what he might be carrying. It’s very unlikely he came back untouched. Mould, parasites, worms…”

“Raffo,” said Neil. “He’s fine. We’ve taken all precautions. He’s been here long enough for any symptoms to show, and too long for us to do anything about it now. If we’re infected, we’re infected.”

“Speak for yourself,” said Raffo. “I am untainted and intend to stay that way.”

I’d have to admit, I was on Raffo’s side. If there was a chance I was carrying some fantastical fantasy disease, I’d ask for a few tests to be run. They should have probably also checked my pockets for magic beans and other contraband.

Neil took me up a grand staircase and down a long passage with no people around, although I did notice a few cameras at various places.

My room wasn’t that big, a single bed, but it was nicely furnished, solid wood furniture and large windows, even a small balcony. And my own shower and toilet, which I eyed longingly. The place was growing on me. At least I wouldn’t be uncomfortable as I worked on a way to extract the information I needed from these people before they tried to extract the information they needed with a probe directly inserted into my brain.

Neil showed me where my brand new blue jumpsuit was kept — there were about twenty of them in clear packing in the drawer — and promised to have my clothes cleaned and returned to me. He went off and gave me a little time to freshen up, which basically meant a really long dump and a quick shower.

The jumpsuit was actually quite comfortable and had lots of pockets, which was nice. I was feeling like one of the team already. We’d soon be swapping jokes and sharing desserts at dinner. Just kidding, I planned to ditch these plebs as soon as I spotted an opening.

Neil returned half an hour later to take me around.

“You look great,” he said. Pleasantries among nerds? The whole thing was a farce. It was like seeing evolution happening in real-time, and it wasn’t pretty. “Mr Pelago will be here this evening, so you can save your more meta questions for him. I’m just going to give you the quick tour, what departments we have here and what they’re running.”

I was looking forward to seeing just how much they knew about Flatland, and also how they found out about it, although that was probably one of the meta questions I should ask Archie about directly.

Neil took me from one corridor to another, outside the side of the house and into a newer building that was mostly glass but opaque so you couldn’t see inside from outside. But once inside, you could see out quite easily.

There were a lot of computers, lots of laboratories with test tubes and stuff, lots of screens with meaningless numbers scrolling across them.

Neil mentioned the names of departments and the people running them but most of it slipped out of my head five seconds after he told me. None of it struck me as particularly interesting. A lot of it felt quite speculative.

They were interested in a new land they’d discovered — its existence, at least — and they were planning to go over some time soon and they were still deciding what to take.

There was no indication of how they were going to get there or what their aim was once they arrived. Judging by what I’d seen so far, their approach would be similar to an 80s action movie, one of the ones set in Vietnam, where they go back to rescue some stranded POWs using one man with a very big gun who’s very angry about how poorly treated he was on his last visit. Burnt his fingers pouring napalm on children and whatnot.

I was polite and faked interest in whatever Neil said. My appearance was that of someone who didn’t really know what they were doing or how they got to where they were at. I knew that and took full advantage. I also took note of where the exits were, and forgot almost immediately. I tried to take in as much information as possible but I was fairly certain most of what I was being told was only superficially true.

Yes, they planned to go over there and plant food and build some nice bivouacs, but they probably planned to do a lot more with their digging and building machines. And good luck to them. Who doesn’t want to see sustainable crops and affordable housing?

After a big loop around the different departments, we ended up in a meeting room with the other five heads of departments.

Neil stood at the front and addressed us all in a casual manner. Nothing so far had come across as urgent or desperate. No demands had been made of me and I had been made to feel welcome. Everyone was just chilling.

“Before we move onto dinner, where I’m sure Mr Pelago will have some comments to make, perhaps you could give us some of your impressions on the world you visited?” Neil asked me. “We’re all dying to hear about it.”

They all looked at me eager for details. All apart from Raffo, who was still wearing mask, goggles and gloves, so it was hard to know what his expression was.

“Maybe I should wait.” I wasn’t too keen on giving away my shit before I’d had a chance to check out their shit.

“Can you give us a few teasers?” asked Pixie, her eyes lighting up. “What’s it like over there? The weather, the creatures, have you ever flown on a dragon?”

“The weather’s okay,” I said. “Fairly clement, not much rain. The people are a lot like the people here, a bit more divided into classes. The nobles have it easiest, but they still have to watch out for each other. And the monsters of course. The monsters are a bit aggressive. And not just the big ones. Demons, dragons, trolls, ogres, sure. But you also want to watch out for any rabbit with a single horn on its heads.”

“Al-mi’raj,” said Carlos.

“No,” I said. “Bunnicorn. You might think these monsters are like the ones from our mythologies, but they aren’t. The bunnicorn’s horn is its sexual organ, and it will try to fuck you with it.”

Before I had their curiosity, now I had their interest.

“Did they try to fuck you?” asked Tammy, the first words she’d spoken to me.

“Yes,” I said. No reason to lie.

“How was it?” asked Tammy.

“They didn’t succeed.”

She looked at me like she didn’t believe me.

“It sounds wonderful,” said Dr Chanda. “A world like a dream. A fantastic dream.”

They were seeing Flatland through rather rosy spectacles. I felt they needed a bit of a reality check.

“The biggest difference is that you can’t rely on the law or the police to protect you. Anyone who’s strong enough can take whatever they want, but that means someone stronger can come alone and take it from you. They won’t get taken to court and you only go to prison to await execution. It’s rough justice and no one stays at the top. Even if you have an army and all the weapons in the world, some kid can find a magic sword and kill everyone of you while deflecting bullets.”

Not exactly a lie, just a bit of an exaggeration. I didn’t want them to think they were going to go over there to thrash the natives with their superior firepower while listening to Wagner.

“Is there anything you’d like to ask us?” said Neil.

“Yes,” I said. “I think I’ve got a rough idea of what you each do, but which one of you is the xenobiologist.”

The room looked blankly at me.

“The what?” said Neil.

“The person who’s going to cut up the new species you find over there, to see how they work. How fairies fly, how trolls change shape. One of you must be in charge of that stuff, no?”

There was another pause.

“That’s not really our objective,” said Neil. “We don’t want to upset any of them. We’d like to make friends, form a partnership.”

“To do what?” I asked.

“Perhaps it would be easier to show you.” He clicked something on his phone and the room darkened a bit. Then a light hit the far wall and a map appeared in 3D, lots of hills and valleys.

It looked very familiar. I’d seen it from the back of a dragon so I recognised it even from a high isometric angle. Flatland.

“How did you get such an accurate map of it?” I said. How much more did they know than what they were letting on?

“You’ll have access to all our research as soon as Mr Pelago arrives and gives you the all-clear” said Neil. “But I think it’s okay to show you our basic plan.”

He clicked another button and the topography began to change. Buildings rose, fields became more organised, more roads, more windmills and waterwheels. Very quickly every spare piece of land had something growing on it and major conurbations everywhere. They looked very much like the kind of fantasy cities you might see in a storybook, or a theme park, even more so than Fengarad and Dargot.

It suddenly dawned on me, they weren’t planning to destroy and invade Flatland. They wanted to do something much more blunt. They wanted to turn it into a tourist destination.

Book 2 – 84: All in the Mind

Third Quadrant.

Asteroid Tethari.

Asteroid Core.

 

The images in Point-Two’s mind were overwhelming. He was seeing too much at once and closing his eyes did nothing to alleviate the problem. He was everywhere at once, not able to control what he saw and no way to turn down the intensity.

He was aware of all the different beings on the asteroid and one group in particular. They were humanoid but not human — not even close. They were faceless and pale, sickly in their movements, struggling to emerge from a long sleep. And they were angry.

They were furious, in fact, and searching for their enemy.

Point-Two wasn’t sure what they were or how he knew how they felt, but he didn’t like it. They were emerging from somewhere even deeper within the asteroid, and they were all heading for the same location. A chamber somewhere between where he was currently and the surface.

He wasn’t just seeing them the way you might via a camera, he was with them and around them and part of them. It made his skin crawl. He would have turned away if possible, but he couldn’t move. Even though he wasn’t touching the sides of the compartment he had slid into at Ubik’s insistence — something he was deeply regretting — he was held in place by forces all around him applying invisible pressure, forcing him to keep watching.

“They’re coming,” he managed to shout. He didn’t know what they were or what they wanted, but a warning to others seemed the correct response.

“Who?” he heard Ubik ask.

“I don’t know. Things.”

“Droids?”

“No, they’re alive. There are lots of them and they don’t have faces.”

“So no mouths,” said Ubik, which seemed an odd thing to focus on.

“Get me out of here.” Point-Two’s face was stretching, his mouth pulling back into a grimace as the images began piling up on top of each other. It was like being under several Gs but from the inside out.

“What else do you see?” said Ubik, ignoring the request.

“Ubik, you arghhhhh….” The noise coming out of his throat didn’t seem to belong to him. He wasn’t in pain but the discomfort was maddening, like being unable to scratch an itch deep in his brain.

He needed to get out. If Ubik wasn’t going to help, he would have to find his own way. Chances were there was something to be learned here, a way to access information, maybe. He already felt like he was part of the inner-workings of what was clearly far more than just a big lump of rock. But he didn’t care. It was too much for his brain to handle.

“Can you go any deeper?” said Ubik. “Look down. What’s at the heart of the asteroid?”

Ubik wasn’t appreciating Point-Two’s position. It was all very well wanting to use this opportunity to their advantage, but it was completely different when you were the one having your brain stuffed to the point of bursting.

“Shut up and get me arghhhh…” It was coming in waves now. Blasts of images from all across the asteroid, everything of equal importance, from the desolate craters on the surface to the empty chambers inside the Antecessor facility. There were droids moving somewhere. There were people in suits — he thought he recognised them. There were strange glowing pods in the walls. There were ships in the sky and there were white, faceless creatures crawling through the rock.

Nothing took precedence, nothing was marked as important. It was all the same and he was drowning in it.

“Don’t pass out,” shouted Ubik from somewhere near Point-Two’s feet. “You’re doing really well. Also, try not to scream so much.”

Point-Two was used to being in confined spaces. On the Liberator Garu, maintenance work often required you to crawl into a tight passage between vast machines to get to a section that needed repairing or replacing. It wasn’t safe and it was never comfortable, but you got used to it. Anyone with claustrophobia had it stripped out of them, either through repeated exposure or by surgical procedure. You couldn’t afford to worry about irrational fear of small spaces when any problem with the ship’s engines was likely to kill everyone aboard.

It had never been a problem for Point-Two. He could slide into the narrowest of crawlspaces and do whatever needed to be done.

But this was different. This was a conduit into a much bigger space. One that was too full of too much. It was like being in a compactor that was slowly closing in on him, crushing him with the weight of complete information.

“It’s too much, it’s too much.”

“Try focusing on one thing,” said Ubik. “Whatever feels the most important.”

The only matter Point-Two considered important was getting out of his tube prison, but there was no way to get purchase on any surface to be able to push himself out. The pressure being exerted on him to keep him in place had no form or substance to it. While it could apply a force on him, he wasn’t able to do the reverse.

“Ubik…” he yelled.

“Keep it down, you don’t want to attract any attention.”

“I’m going to die, you bastard.”

“Don’t exaggerate. You’ll suffer brain damage at worst. We can keep you alive for years in that condition.” There was going to be no sympathy coming his way from Ubik. The little shit had known this would happen. Had planned for it.

Another wave of images hit him. He saw the Seneca women shooting their guns. Was he hallucinating now? Was any of what he was seeing real?

He was being too easily distracted. If he was going to extract himself from this place he would have to figure out a way to either turn off the pressure holding him in place or change it to push him out.

He slowed his breath and tried to achieve some form of zenity in his mind. Panic would only make things worse, if that was possible.

His mind was connected to this thing, this brain built by Ubik. If it could send images in, perhaps he could send them out. He wasn’t sure what good that would do, but there didn’t seem to be much else available to him.

Point-Two stopped trying to shield himself from the influx of images and looked directly into the source. He realised it was dangerous but he was ready to retreat if it became too painful.

It wasn’t painful at all. In fact, he should have done this earlier. Instead of overwhelming his mind, he was able to surf over the images, skimming over the top without having to absorb them fully.

With a little distance, he was able to see that there was a network that spread throughout the rock. He was able to see it all at once, which was disorienting, or he could move from one place to another.

Point-Two found he could follow different routes, flowing through them like he was in a waterslide. He had no idea where he was going but it was a lot less stressful than having everything poured into his brain at once. Now he just had to find the exit.

Maybe the plan wasn’t so bad. He could search the entire asteroid without moving and find the quickest way back to the surface, while avoiding anything that looked dangerous.

“What about these creatures?” said Ubik. “Are they coming this way? Are they still angry? What are they wearing? PT, concentrate. Our lives are in your hands.”

Point-Two’s body began to tremble. It was because Ubik had grabbed his foot and was shaking it to get his attention. He found himself unable to stay apart from the data streams he had managed to skim over and dropped into them.

Once more he became overwhelmed. The images were even faster now, flying in and out of his field of vision. He couldn’t make sense of any of it. The only thing that stood out were the creatures. There were so many of them, they were impossible to miss.

They were digging their way through solid rock, squeezing through cracks a worm would find it difficult to navigate. Their bodies seemed to have no bones even though they were built to look like humans, the same number of limbs, the same number of digits.

Point-Two found it unpleasant to observe them. He felt as though they were going to infect him the way they had the asteroid. They were humanoid but they reminded him of maggots, infesting a corpse.

He passed beyond them.

Lights glowed around him. They were different colours, emitting a power reminiscent of organics. But they were much bigger, and they contained something else.

Point-Two reached his mind towards the lights. They were spread out but he was able to approach them all at the same time. His mind touched them and the white creatures became aware of him.

He could sense them looking at him, even though they had no eyes. Their hostility rose sharply, pushing his mind back. There was something they were protecting. It was inside the lights. He pushed his mind forward to investigate and hundreds of minds attacked him.

Everything went black. There were no lights, no deluge of images. Darkness. Not even Ubik’s voice could reach him here, so at least there was that.

Like the wind, you must rush where you will. Like the sea, I must remain in place.

It wasn’t a voice, not words. The idea appeared in his head but he recognised that it hadn’t come from him.

You will fail and fall again. I will renew and restart what was lost.

This time from a different source. He was in the middle of a conversation. Between who?

Death is the beginning of life. I will rise from the ashes.

It was hard to follow what was being said, because it wasn’t being said. The ideas were filtering into Point-Two’s mind by some mysterious process. He wasn’t even sure if he was following correctly.

My son is the only one who can control what will live on in spite of your wanton destruction.

Ramon Ollo, it had to be. Arguing with the Intercessors? Somehow, Point-Two had found his way into the place where they existed. It wasn’t somewhere he particularly wanted to be.

Who are you?

Point-Two didn’t respond. Maybe the thought wasn’t directed at him.

How did you get here?

He was still surrounded by pitch blackness. He wondered if he could quietly leave the same way he had come in. He would need to work out how he came in to do that, though.

You can’t leave. He wasn’t sure which of them was speaking now. You are part of us now.

The idea of being stuck here forever sent a surge of panic through Point-Two.

No, don’t do that, no…

Something reached for him. He felt its presence and twisted away from it instinctively, his mind responding the way his body would. There were obstructions in his mind, placed there to stop him. He bent and spun to avoid them. Mental gymnastics.

Point-Two could suddenly see. He could see Fig standing in front of him, small and helpless. The Guardian was by his side.

“You aren’t my father.” Fig looked slightly confused.

“I know,” said Point-Two. “Where’s Ubik? I’m going to kill him.”

“PT?” said Fig, a look of wonder on his face. “Is that you?”

“Yeah. Why, can’t you tell?”

“Hey!” called a voice from behind him.

Point-Two turned slowly. The chamber seemed to rotate around him. He saw Ubik, a small figure inside a giant lattice.

“What do you want?”

“You’ve taken control,” said Ubik. “I knew you could do it.”

“Taken control of what?”

“The asteroid,” said Ubik gleefully. “You are the asteroid.”

Point-Two couldn’t understand what Ubik was saying. He was still in the tube next to Ubik, he was just seeing the world from out here from the perspective of the giant head. That didn’t mean he was the giant head.

“Ubik, get me out of there.”

“Out of where? You’re already out.”

“Ubik…” He reached out to grab Ubik out of instinct but he didn’t have any arms. Ubik came flying towards him.

Wait. He could feel the extension of his body. Gravity was his limbs. He was the asteroid.

Book 2 – 83: Vacancy Filled

Third Quadrant.

Asteroid Tethari.

Asteroid Core.

 

Figaro had been trained in battlefield management by the best people available. Not only his father but also a wide range of experts from different fields. Every field apart from war itself.

Wars were a thing of the past. Large-scale conflict between people who meant to exterminate each other had been outlawed and was vigorously policed. Winning an argument by murdering your opponent was clearly a winning strategy, but the aftereffects on those who had nothing to do with the matter were considered unreasonable. Fallout, both literal and figurative, tended to be a burden on everyone.

But the methodology could still be applied to other areas. Business, politics, skirmishes with Antecessor droids; the same fundamentals still applied. The venue might change but the aim was the same — domination of the enemy.

Tactics, strategies, objectives, manoeuvres and observation. The last one was considered the most important. Information gathering could easily lose you a battle if it was inadequate.

You had to be able to see what was happening. You had to be able to see what was really happening. And you had to be able to interpret what you saw.

You also had to be aware of your opponent’s ability to disguise their intentions.

This war was being fought on numerous fronts and Figaro was doing his best to monitor all of them at the same time.

It was something he considered within his capabilities. Keeping track of several events at once, and formulating responses as opportunities presented themselves, were all part of his training. A solid plan was a useful tool but it also tended to be the first thing to be abandoned once events took their course.

Figaro floated in place in the middle of the spherical chamber keeping a close eye on the large projection of his father’s head.

There was a struggle going on. He watched it play out across Ramon Ollo’s gigantic face. A twinge, a flicker, a change of eye colour. The changes were subtle but the stage was large enough to enable Figaro to follow. Two beings were trying to occupy the same space, which wasn’t hard to achieve, but only one could then retain control of the combined result.

In Figaro’s estimation, it was highly likely that the dominant mind would be his father’s. That was his expectation based on what he knew about Ramon Ollo. He had seen him work through seemingly insurmountable mental conflicts enough times to know he was both resilient and persistent, willing to chip away slowly at a problem until what seemed like unavoidable defeat was upturned into an inevitable victory.

But the Intercessors were an unknown quantity. They didn’t follow the rules the Antecessors were known for. They operated on a completely different level. His father might succeed, but Figaro wasn’t going to assume it.

Figaro had decided he was going to wait. He sensed there would be a moment where he could affect some kind of change and that would be the moment to act.

The face in front of him switched from one owner to the other. It was fast and fluid. The only indication of who was in control at any given moment was a look in the eyes. The calm omniscience of his father, steady and penetrating. The intense omnipotence of the Intercessors, an ancient civilisation that knew no boundaries.

Things went back and forth, never quite reaching far enough to one side to resist being brought back to the other. A push at the right time might be enough to change the balance conclusively, but he would only get one chance, and his intervention would need to be the right one. It was complicated. There were a lot of variables, most of them unknown.

And this was just the first battlefront.

Figaro was also aware of Ubik and PT moving across the chamber to the far side. Flung across the chamber, rolling helplessly in the wake of the Floxyn, but also using their momentum to guide themselves away from the head.

What they were planning to do he did not know, but he was fairly certain it would be better if they weren’t spotted while doing it.

His father was providing plenty of diversion for now. How long would it last? And would it keep the Intercessors fully distracted? How much were they already aware of? There was a marked difference between knowing and not being able to act, and not knowing at all. Which was it?

But this was only the second front.

Guardian Tezla was floating next to him. She had been very helpful, picking up on Ubik’s hints and releasing the Floxyn to order. It was very unlikely she did this out of a newly found respect for Ubik’s way of doing things.

Floxyn was a substance he was aware of but not one he knew much about. It was so rare and dangerous that it had long been banned and was of little concern. Nobody used it, nobody wanted to use it. Its ability to destabilise gravity was comparable to splitting the atom. A nuclear explosion wouldn’t be the result but a temporary black hole was possible, under the right conditions.

He hadn’t been aware that the Central Authority had found an application for the lethal fluid, or that they used it so freely, but he assumed they had their reasons. He hoped they had also come up with a way to render it inert in case of accidents. Or deliberate misuse.

Releasing it the way Guardian Tezla had didn’t seem very circumspect, even in an emergency. It was most likely to be a delaying tactic. And from what he knew of the Central Authority, that meant she was expecting reinforcements.

His father would also know this. The Intercessors would not. There could be an advantage to be gained in that knowledge.

The Central Authority was an incredibly powerful organisation. Their strength was based on their high-level of equipment, much of which was denied to others. They could take out whole planets and with only a small task force. Where the Seneca Corps could decimate a world with a fleet of ships, the CA could do the same with one. What held them back was the bureaucracy, but many saw that as a welcome check on their ridiculous power.

Figaro knew there were more CA ships in the area and that they would be reluctant to enter Ollo-controlled space, but sending in more Guardians to investigate was standard procedure. From Tezla’s behaviour, he assumed they would be arriving very soon. And their standard procedure for dealing with any kind of high-level threat was to neutralise it as quickly as possible. Often at the cost of lives.

The greater good — the rest of the galaxy’s — came first. It was an equation the minds of the Central Authority found the most tolerable. Complaints were easiest dealt with by showing a simple balance sheet of lives lost versus lives that would have otherwise been lost. The CA liked definitive and conclusive arguments with numbers to back them up.

The flickering, shifting changes slowed and the head of Ramon Ollo spoke, but not with the voice of Ramon Ollo.

“You will submit… please.”

It was the same emotionless demand as before, but there had been some improvements in understanding, Figaro felt. A plea. Not a sincere one, but still an indication that his father was having some kind of effect.

“Why should I?” said Figaro. “It won’t benefit me.”

If his father had instigated a cause-effect cascade, a system of logical reasoning, then it was Figaro’s role to amplify it. By explaining the rules of the game, a higher intelligence assumed it could use them to its advantage. The mistake was to believe the rules applied to anyone other than the higher intelligence itself.

The Intercessor intelligence thought it could persuade Figaro to sacrifice himself, for the greater good. Figaro would give it the chance to plead its case. It would give his father time to do whatever it was he was attempting, and it would do the same for Ubik and PT.

Ubik, he could still see, inside the mesh of droid parts he had built for the Intercessors. PT, he could no longer see. Were the Intercessors aware of them? It would be prudent to assume so. But they were busy for the time being and Figaro would do his best to keep them that way.

“The consequences of resisting will be the end of everything you hold to be of value, including your own life.”

“So I should sacrifice myself to save everyone else?” said Figaro. “That isn’t the value I place on my life.”

“You will not be sacrificed. You will continue to be. You have value to us, take comfort in that.”

They had developed quickly, making baseless promises in only a short time. Figaro couldn’t tell what it was his father was hoping to achieve, but he had to believe there was a point to this manipulation. Although, it wasn’t necessarily a reason that would benefit Figaro. His father had already shown a willingness to give up his son for, if not the greater good, then the good of Ramon Ollo’s curiosity. There were few things greater than that.

But it wasn’t wise to try to presume to understand the thinking of a man like his father. His true purpose might be something even more terrifying.

“Value is a fluctuating commodity,” said Figaro. “I require more of a guarantee than your personal rating system.”

There was another flicker, a shift in the way the jaw sat, a different quality to the gaze.

“Good,” said Ramon Ollo. “You have convinced them to make a better offer. It is as I expected.”

His father no doubt held a hundred different projections and outcomes in his head, slowly refining them to achieve the ones he found most acceptable.

“You could stop them and then we could go home,” suggested Figaro.

“Now is not the time for jokes,” said Ramon. “Neither the Antecessors nor the Intercessors are the true threat. We must find a way to reach beyond them both.”

“What is the true threat?” asked Figaro.

“The organic lifeforms the Antecessors were to guard and nurture, a weapon similar but far more dangerous than the organic augments we utilise.”

“We’ve done it!” called out a voice from the other side of the chamber. It was Ubik, peeking out from between the glittering lattice and waving.

The head turned around to look at him. Figaro couldn’t see the expression on its face but he would assume it was one of consternation.

“Done what?” asked Figaro, his voice carrying across the chamber.

“We found the secret of the asteroid. It’s an organic lifeform of some kind. PT found them.” Muffled screaming interrupted him as the lattice shook. “Ignore the screaming, he’s just excited. They’re screams of joy.”

The head turned back to face Figaro. “You have released them.”

“I didn’t… It wasn’t me.” He wasn’t sure what had been released but he instinctively didn’t want the blame.

“The options have been reduced. Your existence must be terminated.”

The face flickered.

“No!”

It flickered again. “There is no other way.”

His father appeared to be having an argument with himself.

“They were here, all this time? Let me deal with them.”

“It is not possible.”

Figaro felt something move inside of him. He was familiar with the feeling. It was his organic being activated. It was against his will and he couldn’t tell how it was being done, but there was no mistaking it. The Intercessors had decided it was better to lay waste to this entire quadrant than to let him fall into the wrong hands. They were going to destroy everything and then no one would get what they wanted.

The organic that would normally overwhelm him and consume his body stopped. His arm ached and burned like it was being sliced off with a spoon. The bracelet around his wrist cut into him and it was his turn to scream. It was not a joyous scream.

“What is this? Why are you able to resist?” His father was in complete control of the head, and looking disappointed. Had he wanted the Intercessors to set off his organic? That was his plan?

Figaro raised his hand. The glow of the bracelet could be seen through the sleeve of his suit. “Dr Yune placed a new bracelet on me. Under Mackus’ orders. I can’t be activated.”

It was always the information you didn’t know that ruined your plans. His father did not look pleased about his son’s escape from certain death. Figaro had to suppress a smile. Confounding his father was one of his greatest pleasures. He would have to thank the doctor next time he saw him.