V. Moody's Blog, page 2

435: News of the World

I was convinced the person in the photos I found online was Cheng. I had seen him in human form before and tall, handsome men tend to stick in the mind. No, still not gay.

The one outside the Chinese embassy was from yesterday, so he might still be in London. That didn’t really help.

What I knew about Cheng was that his mother had been a visitor and had been from Hong Kong. This guy, who the internet told me was called David Cheng (!), was also from Hong Kong.

This guy could have been a relative, of course. Or just a doppelganger. But like Sherlock Holmes, I don’t believe in coincidences, only in the universe fucking with me.

He was identified as a big supporter of Hong Kong, which was currently getting trampled underfoot — and soon, I was guessing, under tank track — by the Chinese Communist Party.

I had recently encountered a Chinese person, recently deceased (nothing to do with me, wasn’t even my drill), and pissing off the CCP was probably not a good next move, but I was actually quite pro-China. I understood their relentless desire to unify all the different parts of their great nation.

Anyone who knows about Chinese history knows they have always been controlled by eunuchs, all the way back to the Qin Dynasty. And, as we all know, eunuchs aren’t bitter, spiteful people who resent anyone who has more than they do. Where would you get that preposterous idea? They just want things to feel whole again.

The pictures of Cheng were all of him dressed up like James Bond, surrounded by the rich and famous at big glitzy events. Nothing says how much you care about the little people like wearing a Hong Kong umbrella pin while you shmooze with models at Paris fashion week.

I wasn’t really a big partygoer myself. It was unlikely we would bump into each other at some soiree. So how was I going to get hold of him?

If Cheng was here, that meant there was a possibility of him knowing how to get back to Flatland. And if he had magic powers like he had back over there, he would be able to protect me from the various organisations who would like to strap me to a gurney and reverse-Frankenstein the shit out of my body.

Of course, there was also the possibility that the person I would end up needing to be protected from was Cheng himself.

We had parted on more or less good terms, but he was still a demon. He had his own reasons for being here, and they probably weren’t of the ‘we come in peace’ variety.

My first impulse was to scour the internet for more news and information about the demon king. This, after all, was why they invented search engines — so we could pry into each other’s business. That and free porn, of course.

David Cheng, it transpired, was a young tech entrepreneur who had emerged a few months ago as the creator of a communication device called the dMon (another !). It was sort of like a smartphone, except it didn’t require a signal carrier, no network, no call charges.

You didn’t need to sign up with T-Mobile or Verizon or any of the other lying bastards who insisted they would give you full coverage and a reasonable data plan, you just bought the dMon — a slim, black card a little longer than your palm — and you could talk to anyone else with a dMon.

How did it work? No one knew. The dMon couldn’t be opened without destroying it. Components were impossible to obtain and the production methods were shrouded in secrecy.

Not much of a secret as far as I was concerned. Magic, obviously.

Even though this new type of phone didn’t have a camera, couldn’t play music or games, didn’t even have an in-built torch — which I consider the only genuinely useful addition to the smartphone compared to the flip phone (the true communication device of the future as Star Trek predicted) — it had a host of other advantages, not least of which was the inability to be traced or hacked.

With such a revolutionary gadget as his creation, Cheng must have become super-wealthy, no?

No.

He didn’t sell them. He gave them away to people. And they cost nothing to use.

He was slowly building up his own global communications network that was impenetrable and untraceable.

This invariably meant he was being carefully watched by governments and corporations, probably through a scope mounted on a very long-barrelled rifle.

But he hadn’t been around long and they were probably still optimistic about recruiting him. I knew the feeling.

Most of the mentions of him on the internet were to do with his appearances at various fancy events. The quotes attributed to him were fairly anodyne — to do with fairness and justice and human rights and all the things I knew he didn’t believe in.

He was a totalitarian king. Their views on the democratic process tend to be a little skewed. His platform would be something along the lines of: Vote for me or die!

Which, admittedly, is kind of catchy, would look good on a button, but which wouldn’t really work here. Honesty in politics is just too hard of a sell.

The more I read about what he was doing the more I liked it. I mean, obviously, he was making a lot of enemies by not playing by the rules. The rules no one else followed either, but that was because they were the ones who made the rules, and the people who make the rules only do so with the sole purpose of getting everyone else to follow them except themselves.

What was he up to? Could he be trusted? Why was he so secretive about his private life?

All the media outlets owned by billionaires heavily invested in traditional communications networks, who stood to lose out if this technology became more widespread, seemed to take a surprisingly hostile stance against Cheng.

As objective journalists, they were probably just exercising their professional scepticism, just as they did with all public figures. You know journalists, very fair and balanced in who they choose to smear.

But they lacked evidence. Which wouldn’t normally stop them, but they couldn’t even come up with gossip or innuendo. His background was a mystery — almost as though he hadn’t even existed until recently (!!) — and no one was able to locate his friends or family.

Cheng was clearly up to something and currently, that involved the Chinese government.

His support for Hong Kong had caused some issues, but for whatever reason, the CCP had been unable to do anything about Cheng. I suspected they had tried very hard to silence him. Probably permanently, but had not managed to succeed. Having fought with Cheng myself, I had an idea of the problems they had encountered. Hard to silence a political rival when he literally eats the people you send to kill him.

I spent quite a few hours doing what I think can reasonably be called research. There was not even a single break to watch any youtube videos of Joe Rogan talking about chimpanzees. Not one. So I think it’s clear how seriously I was taking this.

To be honest, I was counting on Cheng to be the answer to all my problems. Well, not all my problems. There probably wasn’t much he could do about the way my first piss of the morning always came out as twin jets and missed the toilet completely. But my problems with existing in a world I no longer belonged to, he could solve those.

There were just three things I needed.

Get in touch with him.
Convince him to help me.
Hope he wasn’t holding a grudge against me for hooking him up with Mandy.

Mandy was the annoying Chelsea bint who I had arranged as a bride for the inexperienced young demon king. For which he had been grateful, at the time. But as we all know, nothing gets old faster than a tart who relies too much on her looks. By which I mean, makeup can only hide so much before the stretch marks start showing.

And once the looks go and all you're left with is undisguised, raw personality — sheesh.

Superficial? Yes. Sexist? Sure. Misogynistic? If you say so. But sexual objectification is a two-way street and I live at number 32, which is handy for the bus stop.

Anyway, my plan was to find out where Cheng was, apologise, and then ask him to help me get home.

He would probably want something from me in return, but that was fine. I had a good idea of the things I could offer and quite frankly he was welcome to all of it.

The problem, though, was that there was so little personal information about him on the internet that I didn’t know where to even start looking for him. His Wikipedia page didn’t even have his birth date on it, never mind a current location or contact details.

Google, of course, was useless. They had long ago sold their soul to the devil — by which I again mean the CCP — so they weren’t likely to provide me with accurate information. And the other search engines were no better.

What I needed was someone who had access to information we plebs didn’t.

I rang Archie. It was late at night, past eleven, but I was confident he was going to be up.

“I see you are interested in Mr David Cheng,” were his first words, before I’d even said hello.

“Yes. He seems… familiar to me.”

“He does? From… over there?”

How much did I want to tell Archie? As little as possible would be best, but you catch more flies with honey than vinegar, and you catch the most flies with horseshit.

“I’m not sure, I need to get a closer look at him to be sure. But if he’s who I think he is, it would be a good idea to meet him and make friends with him.”

“I see,” said Archie. “He’s that powerful a person?”

“I didn’t say he was a person.”

There was a long pause. “There is a gala at the Royal Albert Hall tomorrow night. He will be attending. I will arrange for tickets.”

And so I finally got an invitation to my first ball. Eunuchs everywhere would hate me.

Book 4 - 14: Kings of Everything

First Quadrant Border

Central Authority Space Station New Haven

 

Ubik couldn’t help but feel excited when he saw the space station appear on the viewing screen of the small freighter. It was huge. And it was beautiful.

“That is one ugly looking monster,” said PT, as he piloted their craft in between the dozens if not hundreds of other ships heading for the same destination.

“It looks like they gathered every ship ready for decommissioning and welded them together,” said Fig.

What he was referring to was the amorphous blob that was made up of various spaceships slotted together at different angles.

To the untrained eye, it could quite easily look like a haphazard mess.

There was no symmetry to it. There was no way to read it on a functional level. Where was the front? Where was the back? What was it built to do? How were you meant to approach it?

But, if you looked at it with the eyes of someone who appreciated true art, then you would see an unravelling fractal, like a snowflake with no obligation to explain itself.

“This is perfection,” said Ubik.

“You only think that because you grew up in a junkyard,” said PT.

“I have to agree,” said Fig.

“Thank you,” said Ubik.

“With PT. This whole thing is structurally very unsound. And the defences have massive holes in them. Look at all the blindspots! Even if they weren’t letting us in, we could probably sneak past without being spotted. And where are the security checks? Look at all these ships just flying straight in. It’s like they don’t even care.”

“Lucky for us,” said PT. “I was worried they’d scan us before we got anywhere close and blow us to pieces.”

“Oh, you think it’s down to luck?” said Ubik. “I tell you I can get us in without being discovered, I get us in without being discovered, and suddenly it’s random chance that we got in without being discovered. I’m starting to think you two don’t trust me to fulfil my obligations.”

PT turned around in the pilot’s seat and looked at Ubik. Then he turned back to face the screen. “We haven’t got in without being discovered yet.”.

“Credit where it’s due,” said Fig. “He obviously knew how lax their security would be. He did his research.”

“Of course I did,” said Ubik. “They have so many people coming here for the trials, they can’t maintain their usual levels of screening, so they don’t bother. It’s not like anyone’s going to start something on a Central Authority space station.”

“It’s called New Haven,” said PT.

“I know,” said Ubik. “New Heaven. It’s their biggest, most advanced border complex. They do the trials here, they have their academy here, training facilities, probe launching station for this sector, patrol station — it’s all here. Somewhere.”

As they drew closer, the station became too large to fit on their screen. It looked like a massive collision between a bunch of old ships that had become lodged inside one another.

“I don’t think this can be their main station in this region,” said Fig. “It doesn’t make any sense. It’s a giant mangled mess.”

“He called it their jewel in the crown,” said PT.

“It looks more like a decoy made to fool the applicants,” said Fig, “while the real base is hidden somewhere.”

“You never heard about this place from your father?” asked PT.

“No, never,” said Fig, leaning past PT to switch the view to different angles of the space station. “I knew there were stations all along the border with the First Quadrant, but I thought they were put here as a defensive measure. I didn’t know they had testing facilities here. To be honest, I never really considered how the CA recruited their personnel. My father always treated them as an inefficient but necessary bureaucracy, full of bean counters and legal enforcers. Not worth placing in his eyes. I expected these installations to be heavily armed observation platforms, but I doubt they can see anything apart from the backs of their own heads with the way it’s built.”

“You know nothing,” said Ubik. “If your dad was here, I bet he’d agree with me that this is a marvel of engineering.”

“If my father was here,” said Fig, “he’d probably open your skull and put your brain in a jar so he could study it more easily.”

“Really? I thought he liked me.”

“He did,” said Fig. “He found you fascinating. He always puts things he finds fascinating in jars.”

“They’re sending me landing coordinates,” said PT, shaking his head. “Didn’t even ask for any identification or anything. Is this really the Central Authority?”

It was almost like the two of them wanted the CA to scan the ship and send in a team of Guardians to take them in.

If it was too hard, they complained about that, and if it was too easy, they complained about that. There was no pleasing some people. That was why it was always best to tell people nothing in advance and only the bare minimum when required.

The ship veered off as the ships around then did the same as their landing bays were assigned.

The space station had been designed with parking in mind. All the ships used to construct New Haven had open hangars and landing bays, ready to welcome visitors.

Ubik was playing it cool but his heart was actually beating wildly. He was nervous, excited, happy… the other two wouldn’t understand.

He was here at the heart of the CA’s biggest facility with all the resources the Antecessors had provided him with. He would be able to steal anything he wanted.

This wasn’t just a way to get into the First Quadrant, this was a shopping trip and the sales were about to start.

Hurry! 100% off! Everything must go!

“Can you give us an idea of what it is you want us to do?” asked Fig.

“Yeah,” said PT, as he brought them in to land on the hull of a converted warship from around two hundred years ago. “Just, you know, a rough sketch. Like who we’re supposed to be and how we’re going to get past the thousands of cameras all linked to the CA database. Broad strokes will be fine.”

“You don’t have to do anything,” said Ubik. “Exactly nothing. You can’t use your organics here because no one here has organics, that’s why they want to join the Central Authority.”

“Hold on,” said PT. “You want us to try to get into the CA when they don’t accept people with organics, and I’ve got six and he’s got two?” Their scruffy little mining freighter touched down between two very fancy-looking shuttles with pristine hulls. “I think I may have spotted a flaw in your plan.”

“It won’t be a problem as long as you don’t give us away by exposing yourself,” said Ubik. “I’ll take care of the application trials.”

“You plan to take all the tests by yourself?” asked Fig.

“I don’t have an organic and the CA is very technocentric, so it shouldn’t be too difficult.”

“Yes,” said PT, “but you never volunteer for anything. Are you sure you’re feeling alright?”

“I’m very well, thank you,” said Ubik. “I usually let you two handle things because you’ve both had sheltered upbringings and you need real-world experience more than I do. But now you’ve had a chance to fumble around a bit, it’s time for you to see a real master at work. Watch and learn, gentlemen.”

“Can we watch and learn from here?” asked PT.

“No,” said Ubik. “Now put these on.”

Ubik slid open a containment unit and took out three one-piece space suits of a very basic design. They were white with the Central Authority logo on the chest, under which was a barcode.

“We have to wear this?” said Fig, taking one of the suits and twisting it around.

“Yes, everyone wears the same thing here. We’re trying to fit in, remember. Low key. No ruffling of any feathers.”

PT grabbed one of the suits. “This from the feather-ruffler-in-chief. Unbelievable.”

As soon as they exited the ship through the rear doors, the noise washed over them. Voices, lots of excited voices.

There were several ships all along the jetty with people disembarking in large groups.

Most of the ships were sleek and modern, very unlike their freighter, and the people emerging from them had expensive outfits on. There were several groups with what appeared to be armed guards, and lots of women, which had not been the case on their last stop.

“Why are we the only ones wearing these lousy suits?” asked PT.

“Wait,” said Ubik.

A blue drone, about the size of a large suitcase, with three lights — red, green, red — on its front came hovering over and popped open its top. Three white suits rose out of it.

“These suits will be assigned to you,” said the drone in a disinterested voice. “Make sure you wear them at all times while you are guests of New Haven. They will provide all the information you will need and also access to the store for any purchases of authorised add-ons and assistance bundles. All messages and deliveries will be made to this location. Parking in this bay is free for the duration of your stay as long as you have the requisite application formalities filed on record. If you have any quest—”

Around them, similar drones were approaching the other arrivals and giving them their suits, which they took back into their ships to get changed into.

“Okay, thanks.” Ubik grabbed all three suits, which looked identical to the ones they were already wearing, and threw them unceremoniously through the open rear entrance of their ship.

“You must wear the suits at all—”

“We are wearing them,” said Ubik.

There was a pause and then a red light swept over them.

“Your serial numbers have been registered. Welcome to New Haven. Please follow me to the main reception hall for the first testing phase.”

The drone began to move off.

“Wait,” said Fig. “Can you give us some details about the first phase?”

The drone stopped. “All necessary information will be found in your suit’s control panel. If you have any other—”

The drone’s lights went out. Ubik was standing behind it holding a handful of wires. It really was poorly designed, even for a menial drone. Cheap and disposable.

“Hey, it was about to tell us something,” said PT, looking around nervously in case anyone was watching, but no one was.

“No, it wasn’t,” said Ubik, quickly throwing the wires into the ship and closing the back panel on the drone. “It was just going to give you some waffle about where to send questions and complaints. Standard stuff.”

“The suits are supposed to provide us with information,” said Fig. “But since these ones you gave us don’t have control panels, I’m guessing we aren’t plugged into the network.”

“I know, we can use the suits the drone gave us,” said PT.

“Nope,” said Ubik. “If you activate those suits, they’ll know we aren’t who we say we are. The suits you have on now are all you need. They’ll hide your identity but let you access everything here.”

“What was that about a store to buy bundles from?” said PT. “What bundles?”

“You can buy aids that will help with the trials,” said Ubik. He restarted the drone. Only two of the lights came on. Ubik banged it on one corner and the third light came on.

“Isn’t that cheating?” said Fig.

“Yes,” said Ubik. “You can pay to give yourself an advantage in the trials. The richer you are the more likely you are to pass.”

“How does having money make you a better candidate for the Guardian program?” said Fig.

“Is this place a giant scam to get money off rich idiots?” said PT.

“I think you may be right,” said Fig.

“Nope,” said Ubik. “This isn’t the static atmosphere of an enclosed tin can in space or the rarefied air of the Ollo kingdom, this is the real world where any advantage you can get is justified. Doesn’t matter how you get hold of it. Those of us without superpowers have to make things work in whatever way we can. Stop expecting things to be fair for everyone except you. How much more of an advantage do you want?”

“I feel like I’ve been told off,” said Fig.

“Me too,” said PT.

Ubik patted the drone on the head. “Okay, lead the way.”

“Follow me, dear,” said Grandma and the drone set off.

434: Putting Out Fires

Tony was wearing a striped sweater with blue horizontal stripes and flames on the shoulders and running down the sleeves. Is wool a particularly flammable material? It’s not like you see sheep running around on fire all the time.

I only touched Tony and his jumper immediately went up in flames. Frankly, it was a fire hazard that should have come with a warning on the label.

He started screaming and tried to take his clothes off while I tried to think of how to turn my flaming hands off. I seemed to recall it being relatively easy, but shaking and blowing on them didn’t seem to do anything.

Tony managed to get the bottom of his sweater over his head but this brought the flames closer to his face and he started panicking. He was also bleeding from the stomach, which would be a nightmare to get out of his white t-shirt.

I decided I would have to intervene and pushed him with my shoulder while keeping my hands to the side.

This flat was more or less the mirror image of mine, so I guessed where the bathroom was and shoved him towards it.

Tony stumbled, twirled and squealed. Flames and smoke shot out of the top of the reverse poncho he’d created (from the neck up rather than from the neck down). The smoke alarm went off, which was just annoying.

I bundled him through the bathroom door before he fell over and tumbled into the bathtub.

The taps were metal so I was able to turn them on without setting fire to anything, and the water came thundering out of the showerhead, soaking me.

On the positive side, it put my hands out. On the less positive side, Tony was still on fire.

I got out of the way and let the water fall on Tony. Once most of the fire was out, I pulled the shower out of its holder to give him some more targeted relief.

The water went through the sweater over his head and he started thrashing about as I effectively waterboarded him. This is why I prefer not to help people — even when you’re saving them from burning to death you get blamed for trying to drown them. You just can’t win.

I put the shower in his hands and left him to it. He was the one on fire, he would know where the water was needed. I backed out of the bathroom to catch my breath.

Overall, I felt the mission had been a success. I had wanted to find a way to get my magic working, and that’s what had happened. And with remarkably few issues.

I tripped over the corpse in the hallway. I’m not saying there weren’t some issues, just fewer than I’d expected.

Whoever this guy had been working for would probably send out someone else to find out what had happened. When they learned of his unfortunate drilling accident, they would probably not be happy. Good thing I had nothing to do with it. Tony was fucked, though.

I stepped around the body. I presumed he was dead but you never know with these things. If this was a movie, he would probably come back to life and attack me, just as an excuse to justify the 3D glasses. At this point, it’s all gimmicks and superhero movies.

The guy still had his hoodie over his head and I was reluctant to move it to see his face. Tony had really gone for it with the drill and I wasn’t keen on seeing what that looked like.

He had made surprisingly little noise, which either meant he died very quickly or he was one really tough hombre. If it had been me, I would have started crying as soon as I heard the drill whirring next to my head.

The question now was what to do with the body. I couldn’t really just leave it here, could I?

Obviously, that was what I would like to have done. Any problem I can walk away from is the kind of problem I prefer to deal with. Or not deal with.

Calling the police was also not really an option. Not a good one, anyway.

The police can be relied on to not solve most crimes but they were already interested in me and even they would figure out I was involved since I lived next door.

It seemed this was a situation where Archie would be the ideal person to call. Who better than a billionaire to get rid of a dead body? He had probably rid himself of several. Rivals, journalists, ex-wives.

I checked my pockets and found the business cards I’d collected so far. Three of them. Billionaire, lawyer, driver. Tank, mage, rogue. I was a healer. All we needed was DPS and we were ready to start raiding.

There was a phone on a stand next to the front door. I wouldn’t have to use my own phone. As I picked up the phone, I spotted a card lying next to it. It was identical to the one in my hand.

I wasn’t really surprised. If Tony was on Archie’s payroll, then that would make this even more straightforward. I made the call.

“Yes,” was the response when he answered.

“This is Colin.” There was silence on the other end. “I’m in Tony’s place. He’s bleeding. Also, there’s a dead guy on the floor who wanted me to come with him to talk to his people. Not sure who they were. Oh, Tony drilled a hole in the guy’s head with a drill. That’s why he’s dead. Hello?”

“I’ll be there in a minute.” He hung up.

I put down the phone and turned around as Tony emerged from the bathroom, soaking wet and singed around the edges. He had a towel pressed to his side.

“I need a doctor. I’m bleeding.”

I held up the business card. “I called help already.”

Tony looked at the card and then at me. “They only paid me to tell them if you came back.”

“Okay. Do you know who that guy was?” I pointed at the body.

Tony shook his head, and then leaned against the wall. He looked quite pale.

There was a knock at the door. I opened it to find the driver standing there.

“Are you sure he’s dead?” he said, looking past me at the body on the floor.

“No,” I said.

“He stabbed me,” said Tony, and then he slid down the wall and passed out.

The driver went past me and knelt down next to the body. He moved the hood and took a sharp intake of breath.

“Do you know him?” I asked.

“Not personally. Chinese, I’d say.”

I could just about see half a face and it did look oriental but I wouldn’t have been able to tell which country from that region he was from. I don’t think that’s racist, I just have a hard time telling certain ethnicities apart. I’m sure Chinese and Japanese people can tell the difference, but then again, they’re also more likely to hate each other based on that information, so who’s the real racist?

“Won’t they be upset about this?” I asked.

“Don’t worry, we’ll deal with it.” He took out his phone. “Send up a cleaning team. We’ve got one package to take away.”

It was all being handled very professionally. Like he did this all the time.

“What about the sniper?” I said. “Did you find him?”

“No. They used a drone. We shot it down but there’s no way to connect it to whoever was flying it. They’re smart people. You need to be careful.”

“I will be. I’m going to go back to my place and leave this to you.”

“No problem. I’ll take care of it.”

It was actually quite nice to have someone to hand off the dirty work to. This was probably why rich people liked being rich. Anyone can buy stuff — just take out a loan — but you needed serious money to make bodies disappear.

I opened the door to leave and was faced by two people in plastic white suits and masks. They let me out before heading in to clean things up.

Once I was back in my flat, I went straight to my bedroom, eager to test out my new ability.

It was all very well getting the starter flame going, I still needed to be able to activate it on my own. I couldn’t expect someone to get their head drilled open every time I wanted to perform a little magic. They’d never let me on Britain’s Got Talent if that was the requirement.

I sat on my bed and tried to get a flame going on my finger. Nothing happened for a good ten minutes but I didn’t give up. I could definitely feel something. Something that hadn’t been there before.

After ten minutes, I got a single blue flame to appear.

It was faint and flickered for a few seconds before going out, but it was real and I had made it.

This was a big deal. I was the only person on this planet who could do real magic.

That didn’t necessarily make me better than the rest of the population. They still had access to guns and bombs which could kill me much faster than I could set them on fire, but it did mean I had access to a source of power no one else did.

This also made me very attractive to the wrong kind of men. No, that doesn’t mean I wished to be attractive to the right sort of men. I needed to be careful not to expose myself. Which was going to be difficult since the driver had seen me heal the tramp, and Tony had seen my hands on fire.

But I still had a little time before I got locked up and experimented on. I hoped.

I was exhausted and hungry so I went online to order some food. Of all the food delivering nations, Italians seemed the least likely to try to abduct me, so I ordered a pizza.

As I browsed the internet while I waited, checking on the news for more fantastical stories to convince myself I should still find a way off this sorry planet, a story about the Chinese embassy in London caught my notice. There were lots of protests over human rights or something. Hong Kong and Uyghurs. People with banners. Tweeting out their outrage on their Chinese made smartphones.

There was a photo of a man who was apparently a leader of one of the protest groups. He looked familiar. A tall, handsome man who wasn’t fully Chinese. Only half Chinese. The other half was demon.

It was Cheng, the Demon King

It was definitely him.

And he was on Earth for some reason. Apparently, I wasn’t the only one with access to magic here. Ni fucking how?

Book 4 - 13: If You Can't Beat Them

Wormhole

Antecessor Ship

Point-Two’s Quarters

 

“Something bothering you?” asked Point-Two.

“Yes,” said Fig, turning off the control panel on his arm which he seemed to be always fiddling with these days. “Several things, actually. Do you really believe going through the Central Authority’s training program is the best way to get into the First Quadrant? It just seems so unnecessary.”

“You’re probably right,” said Point-Two. “My guess would be Ubik wants to involve the CA for some reason, but he can’t come out and say it because we have Antecessors who might not be too agreeable to the idea. The ones on this ship and the one in your head.”

“Yes, that makes sense,” said Fig. He sat down on the chair-like structure that effortlessly slid out from the wall of the room Point-Two had been given as his personal quarters. “I understand why he wouldn’t want to explain it to me, but there’s no reason to keep it from you.”

“No reason other than Ubik being Ubik. Whatever his ultimate goal, I don’t think he intends any harm towards either of us. Not on purpose, anyway.”

“I used to think the same,” said Fig. “Now I’m not so sure. The closer we get to the Antecessor homeworld and all the secrets it contains, the less he seems to care about anything else. Or anyone else.”

“Did he ever care?” said Point-Two.

“I think so,” said Fig. “At least, he didn’t go out of his way to endanger others. But now, it seems he is willing to make sacrifices of a more lethal nature.”

Point-Two could tell Fig had spent some time thinking this matter over. Possibly not just on his own.

“Is that your judgement or your friend’s?”

Fig tilted his head and looked up at him. “We’re thinking along similar lines at the moment.”

“Well, he hasn’t stepped over the line yet,” said Point-Two. “It’s never a good idea to assume what he’s going to do — we should wait and see. Not that you have too much to worry about. You are the most powerful person in the galaxy, after all.”

“I don’t believe that’s true,” said Fig, smiling to himself. “I may be holding the catalyst for the end of this universe, but it’s not really a useful tool on a practical level. You, on the other hand, are the first multi-organic of this age. Your power is the one we’ll be relying on most.”

“I don’t know about that. Never mind the galaxy, neither of us are even the most powerful person on this ship.”

“True,” said Fig. “That’s what’s bothering me.”

“If it’s just a matter of not trusting him, I think you’re fretting over nothing. There are many, many more people who can’t be trusted who are going to get us killed before he does. If it was between Ubik and relying on some selfless hero who wanted to save us all, then I might share your concerns. But there isn’t a better alternative. What do you want to do? Go hide on some backwater planet while the Antecessors redesign our reality for us?”

“Yes, you’re right,” said Fig. “There are no better alternatives. We have to make the best of what we have. And we have Ubik.” Fig stood up and his seat folded itself into the wall. “I still think you should try to talk to him. I would like to have some small inkling of what it is he really wants from the CA.”

Fig left to contemplate matters on his own. Or maybe not on his own.

It wasn’t a bad idea. The CA was a powerful entity best left alone. If Ubik wanted to provoke them, it would help to have an exit strategy ready. And to do that, you would need to know where Ubik was going, so you could arrange for exits in the opposite direction. It wasn’t likely to work. Ubik didn’t want the Antecessors knowing too much. But any information was better than no information.

Point-Two left his quarters and headed towards the bridge. Or what Ubik had convinced the Antecessors to change into a bridge-like room. The ship was huge and the rooms were all being constantly created and folded away as needed.

Ubik sat in a big chair with cushions he had taken from the freighter. The dirty yellow pillows looked out of place against the pristine Antecessor obsidian and silver. It was supposed to be a captain’s chair of sorts, but it looked more like a captain’s egg cup.

“Because I think it is going to be the quickest way into the First Quadrant,” said Ubik when Point-Two suggested there might be other routes to their destination, ones that avoided contact with people looking to incarcerate, interrogate and then execute them, and not necessarily in that order. “And I’ve always wanted to go to Heaven.”

“Sorry, what?”

“Heaven. Well, you know, something-something Heaven City. The CA’s big citadel thing.”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” said Point-Two, staring at the screen the Antecessors had built at Ubik’s request which showed the inside of the wormhole they were currently flying through.

“Yes, you do,” insisted Ubik. “You must have heard of it. A thousand years ago, they bridged together a bunch of starships and star fortresses and built a grand, magnificent super metropolis in space named Heavenly something-or-other City. “

“A thousand years ago?”

“Well, maybe not a thousand. Maybe a couple of hundred. I don’t know, I’m not an expert on space architecture. But it’s the CA’s jewel in the crown. Who wouldn’t want to have a look at it?”

It was starting to sound like Ubik was only here for the tourist attractions.

“Won’t the Antecessor homeworld be more interesting?”

“Sure, sure, that’ll be great, too. But since we’re in the neighbourhood, why not check out both? Who knows when we’ll get another chance? Who knows if the universe will still be here tomorrow?”

Point-Two had that itchy feeling at the back of his head, the one he got when Ubik became overly excited about something. The one that told him he was being diverted away from something more important.

“I’m just saying,” said Point-Two, carefully guiding the conversation back to the thing Ubik seemed to be trying to avoid, “it feels like we could cut out the middleman and go directly to our end goal.”

“Oh,” said Ubik. “You want to cut out the middleman. I see. You think that’s the logical approach, huh? Worm eats dirt, chicken eats worm, we eat chicken. Why not cut out the middleman and we can all enjoy a nice bowl of dirt for lunch? Think of the time saved.”

“That’s not what I’m saying, Ubik.”

“That’s exactly what you’re saying. This is a process. You jump straight to the end, you miss out on the necessary steps, everything falls apart. This isn’t old Ubik speaking here. This is new improved Ubik with access to all the resources a million years of Antecessor technology can supply. We no longer have the luxury of making things up as we go along. We can’t afford to play things fast and loose anymore. I’ve got this worked out. I have a plan. I’ve done the research.”

“You? You’ve done the research?”

“Yes,” said Ubik very firmly. “Deep research. The deepest. It’s all up here.” Ubik pointed to his head. “All the data, the details, the info, down to the last bit, byte and piece of code. I’ve absorbed it all and formulated the ideal executable. That’s why I know our best way in is via Heaven’s Fortress Megacity or whatever it’s called.”

“If you’ve got everything memorised why can’t you remember the bloody name of the Central Authority base?”

Ubik raised both hands and shook his head as though at a loss to explain where all this hostility was coming from. “Because names aren’t important, only function. We can spend every hour having to dodge and duck and hide from the CA, or we can go directly to their central core and disable their entire sensor array in one go, leaving us undetectable permanently. Huh? You see? The long game.”

It wasn’t that what Ubik was saying didn’t make sense. If there really was a way to pass through the CA’s space metropolis without being identified, then it would certainly be worth seeing. And if they could disable the CA’s ability to detect their movements in the First Quadrant, it would certainly make life easier. But how likely was a plan like that to go smoothly?

“They’re going to know it’s us,” said Point-Two. “There’s no way they won’t. As soon as we step into their territory, we’ll be pinged a thousand times. We can’t disable their sensor array before we arrive, can we?”

“Ah, I see. You’re worried about our cover being blown. You think they can penetrate my disguises?”

“They have the most advanced sensors in the galaxy. Observing is what they do best.”

“They’ve had a hard time tracking us so far, haven’t they?” Ubik banged on the arm of the chair he was slouching in, making lights run around the back of it. Silver blobs detached from the walls and three Antecessors came rushing closer to see what the problem was. “Antecessor tech, especially the stuff that’s fully operational, still has an edge over their tech. You haven’t even seen half of what’s on board here, you know.”

He waved away the Antecessors like insects that were bothering him.

“That’s another thing,” said Point-Two, watching the silver blobs float off. “The way the Antecessors have embraced you as their leader, it’s a bit suspect, don’t you think?”

“Is he getting jealous? Is that what this is about?”

“Is who getting jealous?”

“Fig’s organic. You should keep an eye on it. Can’t be trusted.”

“That’s what the organic says about you,” said Point-Two.

“I bet he does. Wait until we get to the homeworld. That’s when it’ll show its true colours.”

Point-Two also felt they had yet to see the organic’s true colours. But he also agreed with Fig that Ubik unchecked would probably leave them in a very disadvantageous position.

It was like the only person he could trust was himself. Which was what he was used to, so that was fine. But when it came down to an actual power struggle, how would he be able to cope with both Ubik and Fig?

Hope they cancelled each other out? Leaving him as the one in charge?

That was not what he wanted. Point-Two wasn’t sure what he wanted to do with his life, but he knew he wanted to live in a universe that left him alone.

What he really needed was someone to take his place. Suddenly, the Central Authority’s base of operations didn’t seem such a terrible place to visit. The CA was, after all, home to the greatest AI minds in the galaxy, devoid of all human aspirations, free of greed and selfishness. Perhaps a cold, emotionless machine was the best answer to his problem.

Book 4 - 12: No Consequence

Second Quadrant

Cairo-3998 aka Planet Challenger

Daring City

 

Figaro led the way back towards the city. The lights had all gone out now and it was hard to see exactly where they needed to go, but Figaro had prepared several maps of the whole planet and downloaded them into his suit and also into a number of microdevices hidden on his body in case his suit was compromised.

He also had tools, backup batteries and several spare communication devices. As much as he had learned from Ubik’s ability to think on the fly and to see disasters as an opportunity, it had also taught him that there was no such thing as too many redundancies.

“The elfidium structures beneath the surface are collapsing,” said a voice in his head.

“I know,” said Figaro.

“This planetoid will also collapse.”

“Yes,” said Figaro. “I estimate we have less than an hour to get off-world. Although oxygen production has already ceased, so we’d be stuck on an airless rock anyway.”

“It was not necessary to destroy this world.”

“Probably not,” agreed Figaro.

“We must find a way to neutralise Ubik.”

“Oh, do you have any ideas how?”

There was no response.

“Are you sure it’s this way?” said PT, running alongside him. “I thought the spaceport was over there.” He indicated to the left of where they were headed.

“It is,” said Fig. “But there’s a service tunnel near here. I think it would be better to avoid bumping into any of Boss Glosso’s guards. They might already know he’s dead.”

“I doubt it,” said Ubik, holding the pink arm like a torch to light the way. One finger pointed straight up. “It’s going to be chaotic with all the power out. They’ll be too busy dealing with everyone trying to leave at the same time.”

“Did you cut the power?” asked PT.

“No,” said Ubik. “This did.” He waved the pink arm, the hand always managing to point in the same direction.

“Can you turn it down?” said PT. “If anyone looks over this way, they’re going to see it shining like a beacon.”

“I can’t,” said Ubik. “There’s no dimmer switch.”

“I don’t think it matters,” said Figaro. “Everyone’s going to be rushing to the port, so the guards will be trying to keep order. Which means they will be scanning everyone. So they might clock us and have orders to apprehend us if spotted. The service tunnel will keep us off their radar for as long as possible.”

“Good,” said PT.

“Seems a bit like overkill to me,” said Ubik.

“Overkill?” said PT. “You just murdered a man. What happened to all that talk about leaving people alive so they can be wildcards?”

“I didn’t murder him,” said Ubik. “I cured him. He was on the verge of a horribly painful death. If I hadn’t extracted the toxins from his body, he would have been dead within a year.”

“So instead he was dead within a few minutes?”

“That was an unfortunate side effect of the procedure, yes.” Ubik waved the pink arm again. “We wouldn’t be able to take it off the planet without taking the elfidium with us, and Glosso decided to hide a bunch of it in his internal organs. How is that my fault?”

“So, you take no responsibility for his death?” said PT.

“I take no responsibility for anything,” said Ubik. “It’s not like I don’t have a voice in my head telling me to kill everyone who annoys me, I just don’t listen to it. You have one too, don’t you?”

“No,” said PT, “I don’t.”

“You don’t have a voice telling you things would be a lot easier if you had just pushed me out of an airlock?”

“That isn’t a voice inside my head, that’s my normal voice I’m using right now,” said PT.

“Word will get out soon about what happened here,” said Figaro, not wanting their conversation to come around to him. “Whoever Glosso’s backers were, they’re going to investigate and they’ll find out we were involved. News will spread quickly. I think we have a four-hour head start at most.”

Boss Glosso may have been the ruler of this small world but it was obvious he only did so with the permission of some larger organisation or conglomerate. They would also have known that Glosso was trying to get hold of an ancient artefact of some kind. They would want to know where it was now.

A large metal bump rose out of the ground ahead of them.

“That’s it,” said Figaro. “We just need to open the hatch.”

There was a horizontal door with a keypad and a circular handle. Figaro and PT looked at Ubik.

“I don’t have the key code,” said Ubik.

“Just open it,” said PT.

“Fine, okay, I’ll just do everything.”

Ubik shoved the glowing pink arm into PT’s hands and got on top of the metal door. It took him about five seconds to change the lock light from red to green. The door hissed as it opened.

“You can get rid of him now,” said the voice in Figaro’s head. “Push him. Shot him. Stab him. He is vulnerable.”

“Be quiet,” said Figaro.

“Who, me?” said Ubik, turning around.

“No,” said Figaro.

Ubik disappeared into the ground.

There was a short ladder leading down to a junction of four tunnels with pipes running across the roof and walls. Inside, it was hot and humid.

“Which way?” said PT, holding up the pink arm.

“Down here,” said Figaro.

They were able to move quickly and without being stopped. There was no one down here but them. There were some faint rumblings though, and Figaro’s control panel was picking up some very disturbing readings.

Twenty minutes later, they came to a ladder that took them back to the surface, at the edge of the spaceport which was outside the dome.

Ubik went up first, pushing the hatch open. Figaro ignored the voice in his head and followed him up.

The buildings were all dark and the lights from starship engines only provided momentary illumination before disappearing into the sky. The noise of ship engines filled the air as more and more of them took off in rapid succession, veering wildly to avoid hitting each other.

There was a panicky, desperate quality to the exodus.

As they crossed the tarmac to get to their ship, people ran past them, too busy to notice three men and a pink arm.

There was a lot of activity over by the control tower as shouts and complaints began to reach them. A great many more people wanted to get to their ships and were being prevented. There was some scuffling and the guards were having a hard time maintaining order.

Then the ground shook under them with far greater vigour than before and patience lost out to panic as people rushed into the spaceport all at once, pushing the guards aside.

The sudden influx of frightened mercenaries helped provide cover for the three of them as they made their way to their ship, a small freighter they had stolen from a mining colony on an asteroid belt they had passed on their way here. Arriving in an Antecessor ship would have drawn unwanted attention.

Once they were inside with the door closed and PT sat down in the pilot’s seat, Figaro finally felt comfortable not staring at his control panel.

Ubik put his feet up and hummed to himself with his eyes closed, showing no signs of concern as usual.

“We must regain control of this mission once we return to the ship,” said the voice in his head. “We cannot allow further delays.”

Figaro didn’t respond to the organic but it wasn’t as though he didn’t share its concerns. Ubik was running this show, and it wasn’t entirely clear where he was intending to take it. And it had become abundantly clear that he was willing to kill the people who got in his way. Was this the real Ubik?

They took off without waiting for permission and PT quickly veered off the main shipping route and headed for one of the moons orbiting the fifth planet in the system. The small freighter moved surprisingly quickly and left no detectable trace of its emissions thanks to some modifications made by Ubik.

They were able to rendezvous with the waiting Antecessor ship without being seen. They were met by the three Antecessors when they boarded.

“We got it,” said Ubik as they boarded.

Three silver blobs floated in the air, obediently waiting for instructions. They were faceless and featureless, but it did seem like they were looking at Ubik.

Figaro took the pink arm from PT and held it up. The hand pointed to the right. Where they needed to go.

“Prepare for departure,” said his organic through the arm.

“Now we go to the Antecessor homeworld?” said PT.

“Yes. We m—”

Ubik snatched the arm from Figaro, cutting off the organic. “Yeah, yeah, we’ll get there eventually. First, we need to get past the Central Authority patrols guarding the border into the First Quadrant.”

“And how do we do that?” asked Figaro.

“Easy,” said Ubik. “We join the CA.”

“What do you mean?” said PT.

“They take in recruits every year. We just take the test, pass with flying colours, boom, we’re in.”

“Great plan,” said PT. “But aren’t the CA looking for us?”

“Exactly. Which is why they’ll never suspect we would come to them. See? Brilliant.”

“Why don’t we just fly this ship through a wormhole directly into the First Quadrant?” asked Figaro.

“We could do that,” said Ubik. “We could. But there’s no way to punch a hole through their defences without them noticing. And we want to slip past them without them realising. This is all about stealth and subtlety. This is how we’re going to avoid attracting the wrong kind of attention. Trust me, no one knows more about sneaking into places unseen than me.”

There were some questions, largely ignored, and a little disagreement, mostly placated, about the fastest way to get to the Antecessor homeworld. But it was agreed keeping a low profile would be the best way to proceed.

No matter what route they chose to get there, it was clear that Ubik’s skills were the best suited to get them past the technologically advanced Central Authority. Everything they relied on was everything Ubik was master of.

The Antecessor ship set a course for the First Quadrant boundary and quietly slipped away.

Behind them, Cairo-3998 exploded.

Book 4 - 11: All Out Attack

Second Quadrant

Cairo-3998 aka Planet Challenger

Daring City - Outskirts

 

Point-Two didn’t feel like he had any other choice. Ubik was not going to do anything until he had to, so it was up to Point-Two to make him have to.

That was the underlying principle you had to adhere to if you wanted Ubik’s assistance. Point-Two was considering writing a book on the subject.

Fighting with Ubik: A Survival Guide.

When he had mentioned the idea to Fig, he had asked whether the ‘with’ meant fighting against Ubik or alongside him. Point-Two had answered, “Yes.”

Originally, the best course of action in any given situation had seemed to be to keep Ubik out of the equation altogether. The less participation, the better.

But after having spent time in the Ubik sphere, it had become apparent that Ubik was unavoidable. So then it came down to when to use him — on his schedule or yours.

Never take Ubik’s help when it was offered, that was another guiding principle.

But when you did need his help, always rush him into it so he didn’t have time to come up with one of his really brilliant ideas.

Always run when he had one of his really brilliant ideas.

Ubik in crisis management mode was the only time you could rely on him to do enough to get you out of a problematic situation, without giving him time to come up with a less effective but much more dangerous alternative.

This was the approach Point-Two had very carefully decided to take when pushing Ubik into a fight no one could win.

“Do you think he’s going to be alright?” asked Fig, sounding a little concerned.

Ubik was currently swinging the bone arm around, hitting it against the helmets of the mercenaries under Boss Glosso’s control. It was proving to be a surprisingly effective weapon, smashing its targets to the ground with a single hit.

He was actually managing to keep them at bay, although that had probably more to do with Boss Glosso’s difficulty in coordinating so many different bodies at the same time rather than Ubik’s defensive prowess with a skeletal forearm.

“He’ll probably be fine,” said Point-Two. “They’re moving too slowly to hurt him. We should get out of here while we can.”

“I guess we should just leave, then,” said Fig.

Neither of them made a move. It was awkward. The lights from the city buildings twinkled in the distance as night set in.

“I feel sort of bad,” said Fig. “Abandoning him.”

“He would leave us here,” said Point-Two.

“Without hesitation,” agreed Fig.

“There’s not really anything we can do,” said Point-Two.

“I can’t think of anything, either,” said Fig.

They both continued to not leave. They watched as Ubik ran and dodged and struck with the bone, making whooshing noises to add his own sound effects.

Point-Two looked over his shoulder at where Boss Glosso was standing, his eyes ablaze and steam rising off his bald head. His body was shaking with the intensity of his concentration. He looked at about his limit.

“Is there any way to get through this forcefield?” asked Point-Two.

“I don’t think so,” said Fig, checking the readings on his suit’s control panel. “Not with the equipment we have on us.”

Even if they did leave, there was still this problem. Boss Glosso knew who they were. He would tell others.

There was a roar as one of the mercenaries who had been pounded into the dirt rose, ripping off his helmet as he thrashed around. The man’s eyes were glowing bright green. He screamed and bellowed.

Others followed his example. Ubik was surrounded by active organics, all screaming with rage.

“If he’s this powerful, I’m not sure even Ubik will be able to win against him,” said Fig.

“Hm,” said Point-Two. He couldn’t help but doubt Ubik’s ability to win here, too. Even though Ubik had overcome the seemingly impossible so many times before. But to be able to control so many people, and to be able to activate their organics at the same time, made Boss Glosso a truly impressive adversary.

The man with the glowing green eyes charged forward, pushing others aside as he moved with incredible speed. Ubik was moving back but not nearly fast enough.

Fig’s eyes lit up and the charging merc stumbled, as all glowing eyes dimmed around Ubik.

This was Fig doing what he could to help. He couldn’t suppress Boss Glosso’s organic, but he could stop those out here.

The charging merc’s momentum kept him running even though his organic was no longer active. He ran past Ubik, who watched him go by with a confused look as the man ran straight into the forcefield.

He struck it at full speed and was sent bouncing back off his feet and almost horizontal, landing on the ground and skidding to a halt many metres away.

The other men stopped raging, their bodies once more stiff, and silently turned to look at Ubik, and then they rushed him.

They threw themselves at him. The sudden attack from all sides was unavoidable and Ubik disappeared from view.

“Oh wait,” said Point-Two. “I don’t think Boss Glosso is the one activating their organics.”

“Then who?” said Fig.

Ubik came squirming out on his stomach, the pile of men seeming to have not noticed he was no longer under them. Then he was dragged back in, clawing at the ground but failing to get a strong enough grip.

“They’re doing it themselves. They’re trying to activate their organics to break free of his control.”

“Oh,” said Fig. “So when I suppressed their organics just now…”

“You gave Boss Glosso back control.”

Had Fig not suppressed their organics, the man running at the forcefield may have been able to break through. As it was, he ended up throwing his unaugmented body at a solid wall, and was tossed back.

“Oops,” said Fig. “Yes, that would make more sense. He’s controlling them and they’re doing their best to fight him.”

“Right, so we should…” Point-Two was at a bit of a loss as to how to proceed. Should they stop Boss Glosso by helping the mercenaries? Or would that just exchange one problem for another?

Ubik burst out again, the bone arm still in one hand, but a stick in the other. He shook his stick hand and a beam of pink light emerged from the elf stick.

“Okay, okay,” said Ubik, weaving weapons in each hand. “Let’s see how you do against Dual-Wield Ubik.”

Always locate an exit when Ubik started giving himself nicknames. That would be mentioned in an early chapter.

The pink light in his left hand flickered and bent. It leaned across his body, and then was sucked into the bone arm.

“Hey!” said Ubik. The bone looked pinker than before. “Wait. This is good.” He threw away the stick. “More elf sticks.”

He ran at the men, ducking the mercs and aiming for the guards.

Point-Two and Fig saw what he was doing and joined in. They targeted Boss Glosso’s guards and stole their elf sticks, which was made easier by their clumsy movements.

As each stick was tossed to Ubik, he turned them on and let the bone arm absorb the elfidium.

The arm was glowing bright pink.

Ubik turned around and ran towards Boss Glosso. He jumped and thrust the arm forward, using the bone hand to punch the forcefield.

There was a loud crack and a flash of pink light. Point-Two was blinded as he was thrown through the air. When he sat up and blinked his eyes open, he could see everyone lying on the ground around him.

Only Boss Glosso was still standing on the mound, but he stumbled forward and then collapsed.

Fig was the first one to his feet. He was heading towards Boss Glosso, who was on all fours, puking. There was no forcefield now, so Fig would be able to suppress the mind control.

Point-Two got to his feet and made his way through the bodies, not knowing if they were alive or dead.

“Yes!” said Ubik, his arm raised triumphantly while holding the bone arm, also raised. The hand pointed down at Boss Glosso. “I knew that would work. Like, more than fifty percent certain.”

“Please, stop,” said Boss Glosso, his voice very weak. “I have information. I can help you. I am not a threat. I am dying.”

“He’s telling the truth,” said Fig, checking his readings. “He’s dying.”

“Yes, yes,” said Glosso, kneeling now. “Elfidium poisoning. I thought… I hoped that thing could save me. That was why. That was the only reason why. Please, no more. I won’t fight you.”

The small man was very pale, vomit dripping from his chin. He seemed pathetic and helpless as he pleaded with them. But then, Ubik looked like a harmless little twit, if you just went by appearances.

“Tell us how you got your men out of the Dungeon,” said Point-Two.

“My long exposure to elfidium also gave me some power over it… only a little bit.”

“If you can control it, why couldn’t you go in yourself?” said Fig.

“The elfidium, it was too concentrated…” Glosso shook his head. “I couldn’t access it myself. My body is unable to withstand such huge doses.”

“I don’t buy it,” said Point-Two.

“Come on, the man’s dying,” said Ubik. “He was just acting out of desperation. You can’t blame him for that. Desperate men are the only people you can truly trust. You should put that in the book you’re writing about me.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” said Point-Two, and looked at Fig.

“I never said anything,” said Fig.

“Look, Boss G, I’ll make you a deal,” said Ubik. “I’ll cure you and in return you’ll keep having seen us here a secret, right?”

“You… you can cure me?”

“Of course. This thing absorbs elfidium. I can just… fwhup, suck it out of your body.”

Hope gleamed in Glosso’s eyes. “If you could do that, I would never reveal anything that happened here. You have my word. And there are many secrets I can share with you.”

“Okay, then. Looks like we’ve got a deal.”

“Ubik…” said Point-Two.

“Hey, it’s fine. I know it sounds risky, but this is actually a brilliant idea. A really brilliant idea.”

Point-Two nodded and began backing away.

Ubik raised the bony arm and placed the bony hand on top of Boss Glosso’s bald dome of a head. Glosso put his hands together as though in prayer.

The pink light around the arm began to throb.

Boss Glosso groaned. “Yes, I… I can feel it working.” His head was steaming.

The arm slowly grew pinker.

Boss Glosso sat up straighter.

“That’s good. I think that’s enough. You can stop now.”

“No, I don’t think that’s all of it,” said Ubik, pressing down.

“It’s fine, I’m better. Stop. Please. STOP!” Glosso looked up, his eyes burning with a ferocious light.

Point-Two could feel the pressure bearing down on him. He almost passed out. But then Fig stepped forward and the light in Glosso’s eyes went out.

Point-Two staggered as his vision came back into focus.

Ubik continued to press down on Glosso and seemed unaffected. He ignored the flailing arms, putting a boot on Glosso’s shoulder to push him to the ground.

Glosso resisted at first and then collapsed. Ubik kept going, Glosso’s head sizzled. The arm growing brighter and brighter.

The city lights in the distance went out, leaving only the stars gleaming above them.

Finally, Ubik stopped, pulling the arm off with a slick pop sound, leaving a hand-shaped indentation on Glosso’s head. He no longer moved.

“You killed him,” said Fig.

“Had to,” said Ubik. “Couldn’t be trusted.”

“I thought you said desperate men were the only ones you could trust,” said Point-Two.

“Yes,” said Ubik. “You can trust them to go all-in on their lies. Always get the full quote before writing it down for posterity. We should go. Now that we’ve got all the elfidium, we finally have our map and our key. This place is just a big dead rock. People are going to be mad once the drinks machines stop working.”

They left the bodies where they were and headed towards their ship.

Book 4 - 10: Controlling

Second Quadrant

Cairo-3998 aka Planet Challenger

Daring City - Outskirts

Figaro took a step back and tried to get an overview of what was happening. Because it definitely could not be what appeared to be happening.

There were thirty of them but they were struggling to stay on their feet. They got halfway up and then stumbled around like newborn calves before falling down again.

Their helmets were down, so it was not possible to see their faces. Figaro would have liked to have seen their eyes, to see if they were truly being controlled by Boss Glosso.

These thirty men — trained mercenaries and city guards — had been knocked out by Ubik a moment ago. They had been flat on their backs.

That in itself had come as a surprise. Ubik had used some sort of device given to him by the Antecessors, which raised a host of other questions, but being able to knock out so many people at once wasn’t the thing that had Figaro flummoxed.

What was completely beyond expectation was that Boss Glosso had revealed his organic ability, and it seemed to be a form of mass mind control.

Not just one or two people, and not some suggestion or coercion. This was full-on mind and body control, turning human beings into puppets. Thirty of them. At the same time.

The bone arm in Figaro’s grip tipped forward, glistening with a barely perceptible pink hue. The four-fingered hand that had been pointing up and away all this time, now pointed directly at the crowd. Or possibly through the crowd. Towards Boss Glosso.

There was something happening here, and even though the thirty men weren’t posing an immediate threat, they were preventing them from leaving. Boss Glosso had a reason for keeping them here and Figaro was of the opinion that they should find a way out before they discovered what that reason was.

Mind control was one of the most controversial and restricted of all organics.

There had been numerous attempts to use mind control throughout history, and it never ended well.

Nobody trusted a mind controller, and those who had obtained the ability kept it a secret. No one boasted about it. No one paraded it in public.

Even those organisations that found it useful to have an exponent working for them, kept a very close eye on them. They were generally treated with the same disdain and suspicions as a traitor.

Someone capable of betraying one master was capable of doing it again.

And someone capable of dominating the mind of your enemy was capable of dominating your mind.

Why work for someone when you could make them work for you?

And once you became tricked into thinking your choices were your own, how could you ever break free?

A slave who believed wholeheartedly that they wanted to be a slave was happy to serve and would never even contemplate being free again.

A person who could control others against their will was far too dangerous to leave alive, no matter how useful they might be.

But even Boss Glosso revealing himself to be a mind controller wasn’t the most shocking thing here.

What was utterly stupefying was that he was somehow controlling thirty men at the same time. And these men didn’t appear to be conscious, thanks to Ubik, so he was having to manage all their basic cerebral cortex functions.

There was a big difference between convincing someone to do something as though it was their own choice, and making them do it by brute force like a soulless puppet.

That kind of power was unheard of.

Someone like Chukka, who had a similar but far weaker version of this ability, was what was more common. She had to slowly insert a series of suggestions over time, having to be careful not to reveal what she was doing, creating a complex mosaic that could collapse at any moment. And she could do that to maybe one or two people at most.

Boss Glosso was controlling thirty people in real-time.

Not only was it unprecedented, if he was really doing it then that made him one of the most powerful organics in the galaxy. So what was he doing on this tiny planetoid in the middle of nowhere?

“How is he controlling them?” said PT, backing up alongside Figaro.

Boss Glosso was at the rear of the group, too short to be seen clearly.

The mercenaries and guards were all up on their feet and lurched towards them. At least his control was limited to this.

“I think it’s mind control,” said Figaro.

“He’s controlling all of them?” said PT. “By himself?”

“Looks like it,” said Ubik, stepping forward and leaning in to get a better look at the very slowly advancing horde. “Impressive stuff. I think they’re all unconscious. He’s got his own zombie army. Wish I had one.” He looked at Figaro and PT in a way that made Figaro feel uncomfortable. “If I’d known he was this strong I would have brought more of those glitter bombs.”

“What were those things?” said PT, his concern over the slow surge ambling towards them changing into a much greater concern about Ubik using weapons they had no idea were in his possession. “Where did they come from?”

“The Antecessors gave them to me,” said Ubik.

“Why didn’t they give us any, then?” said PT.

“Did you ask?” said Ubik.

“Um, guys, can we discuss this later,” said Figaro. The men approaching them were gradually becoming less shambolic. They were standing straighter and their movements were becoming more fluid.

The three of them stood side by side, looking for the best way to defeat this zombie horde. Taking them out now would probably be best, before their movements became coordinated enough to pose a threat.

“He’s using an organic, right?” said PT. “Can’t you just suppress it?”

“Yes. Okay. I just need to get a bit closer.” Figaro moved to the side. “If you can keep them busy for a bit.”

“Don’t worry,” said PT. “I’m sure Ubik has a way to keep them focused on him.”

“Me? Why do I have to do it?”

“Because you enjoy the attention,” said PT. “Think of them as your audience.”

“Sometimes, I feel like you don’t really understand me, PT. I’m not just some attention whore. What you see as me running around like a maniac is me expressing myself. It is my art.”

Ubik ran up to the lead zombie and kicked him in the crotch, which had no effect whatsoever.

An arm slowly swung at Ubik, who ducked it easily.

“They’re all wearing suits full of tronics,” said PT. “Just make them all fall down with a wave of your hand.”

“I’m not a magician,” said Ubik. “The bomb disrupted the electrical energy in their bodies and in their suits. All their tronics got knocked out. I can’t knock them out again.”

He jumped up and planted a foot in another man’s chest, kicking off him into a backflip. This had no effect, either. The horde kept coming forward.

Ubik landed on his feet, his arms spread out like he was waiting for applause.

“Stop showboating and do something,” shouted PT.

Figaro moved to the side and worked his way around the group towards Boss Glosso. The ground was uneven and rocky. Figaro climbed up a slight incline to get a better view. He was still a fair way from Boss Glosso, but at least now he had a clear line of sight.

The diminutive figure was standing on a slightly raised mound, his eyes glowing white, which indicated he really was using an organic, and keeping his focus on the small army he was currently in control of.

Figaro activated his organic. He felt the familiar buzz rise up his neck and into his face, and the heat in his eyes.

Nothing happened.

Boss Gloss continued to march his men forward, his eyes still glowing.

Figaro got a little closer, moving while crouched, hoping not to be seen, and tried again.

Still nothing.

Figaro’s suppression ability had always worked in the past. It didn’t even require targeting. If there was an active organic in the vicinity, it would become inactive.

Was Boss Glosso really this powerful?

Figaro decided to take a more direct approach. He ran towards Boss Glosso, circling around to approach from the rear.

He got within a couple of metres of him before he came to a sudden stop. There was a wall in front of him. He couldn’t see it, but he could feel it.

The bone hand was pointing directly at Boss Glosso. There was no doubt it considered him to be something special.

There was a shout from the other side and a sudden commotion inside the crowd of men. Ubik and PT broke through the ranks, heading for Boss Glosso. They had apparently also decided on a more direct approach.

They also became aware of the force field surrounding him, and came to a skidding halt, but then Ubik slammed into the back of PT, shouting, “Elfidium, use your organic.”

PT was thrown forward, arms stretched out in front of him. He made contact with the invisible wall. There was a loud crack and the smell of ozone in the air, and he was thrown back, high into the air.

“Ah, sorry, not elfidium,” Ubik called after him. “My bad.”

PT landed in the middle of the zombies, who had just about turned around when PT cannonballed into them. They swarmed into a pile around him.

“Loves being in the thick of it, doesn’t he?” said Ubik, shaking his head as PT screamed for help. “Hey Fig, what’re you doing over there? You’re supposed to be taking care of our puppet master.”

“I can’t,” said Figaro. “It doesn’t work on him.”

“No? That’s strange.” Ubik cupped his hands around his mouth. “Hey, Boss Glosso, how are you doing this? What’s your secret?”

Boss Glosso, who hadn’t reacted to their presence so far, slowly turned his head to look at Ubik. His eyes were solid white light.

“You will not leave here alive.” His lips barely moved but his voice reverberated around them. He turned his head a little more to look at Figaro. “The relic, give it to me.”

The bone arm jerked forward, like it was trying to escape Figaro’s grasp.

“Feels like we’re missing something,” said Ubik. “How’s he doing this? And how did he get those guys out of the Dungeon?”

“Get away from me,” shouted PT. He was surrounded but had managed to get a helmet off one of the men and was swinging it around wildly.

The man who had lost his helmet was the tall man who had been so eager to fight PT, but his face was grey and his eyes had no life in them.

“Maybe we should just leave,” said Ubik.

“He knows who we are,” said Figaro. “He’ll lead them to us.”

“True,” said Ubik. “Okay, maybe we just need to incapacitate his men. He won’t be much of a threat on his own, right?”

PT was now running back and forth, dodging grasping hands.

“Hit them in the face,” shouted Ubik. “Don’t worry, he can’t activate their organics. He’d have to be able to control their whole central nervous system to do that.”

The tall man stopped and stood straighter, as did all those around him. His eyes began to glow.

“Oh, thanks, Ubik. Well done,” shouted PT. He came running back towards them.

He ran straight to Figaro and took the bone arm from him.

“What are you going to do with that?” asked Figaro.

“Provide motivation,” said PT. He thrust the arm into Ubik’s hands and then shoved Ubik into the crowd descending on them.

Book 4 - 9: All Clear

Second Quadrant

Cairo-3998 aka Planet Challenger

Daring City - Outskirts

 

Ubik took a quick look around to get his bearings. 

They were still inside the dome that housed Daring City, but they were somewhere on the fringe, beyond the buildings and the arenas where visitors were probably still enjoying themselves.

The open ground here was rocky and uneven, not yet developed into a money-making enterprise of some sort or others, as would be expected of someone like Boss Glosso. But then again, perhaps a derelict piece of land had other uses it could be put to.

Thirty men bristled with anticipation, ready to charge forward at any moment. But they were waiting for the order. No one dared to act without their boss’ permission, it seemed.

Ubik wasn’t surprised to see Boss Glosso and his men waiting for them. He had expected him to be here.  

Ubik was more than familiar with his type — the small man who had no advantage of birth, no family connections to trade off of, who rose to prominence through sheer grit and determination, and the occasional murder.

The moment he had first met him, Ubik knew this was a man who staked his claim and then ruthlessly protected it.

Such men thrived in out of the way places where they wouldn’t be disturbed by others of his kind, where they could do as they pleased. To have control of even a small kingdom still made you a king.

There was no way this kind of man had allowed them access to his prized hunting ground without making sure he had a way to track them. He wasn’t the sort to rely on someone’s word. And he certainly wouldn’t expect anyone to rely on his. 

It would have been better to sneak away quietly, of course, but realistically, that had never been an option. And in any case, it was better to settle matters here and now, away from prying eyes.

“Did you know they were going to be here?” said PT, in an accusatory tone.

“I’m as surprised as you are,” said Ubik. 

PT looked at him disbelievingly and then turned his attention to the waiting throng of mercenaries who were practically licking their lips.

“You found that in my Dungeon,” said Boss Glosso, “so it is my property.”

Everyone was looking at the pink limb in PT’s hand, not really sure what it was but certain it would be worth a lot more than the lives of the three young men in possession of it.

They should have just rushed the three of them as soon as they climbed out of the ground and taken what they wanted, but they were wary of what they had found on the fifth level, and what power it contained. 

Items found deep inside Antecessor sites tended to be strong. Lethal, in many cases. Ubik was glad it was in PT’s hands, because that would be where they aimed their first assault.

“How did you know we’d be here?” said PT, using their hesitation to size up the situation. Ubik was looking forward to seeing how he would handle this.

“That is of no concern,” said Boss Glosso. “If you refuse to cooperate, then please forgive me for being impolite. If you don’t mind doing the honours, Captain Jansen.”

One of his men stepped forward. He was the tall man from the Merchant Corporation who PT had injured. He looked back to full health now, and quite energetic.

“Hand it over,” he growled. “Whatever that thing is, it belongs to us, now. What is it, an arm? Wait, is that an Antecessor’s arm? Is that what they looked like?”

A murmur of interest rose from behind him.

“Too scared to say anything, huh? Never mind, we’ll find out soon enough. Give it to me and I’ll make sure to only beat you half to death, how’s that? But I’m also fine with you not wanting to. I’d prefer it that way, actually. You won’t get lucky a second time.”

PT turned back towards Ubik, about to say something, when Fig tapped him on the shoulder.

“It’s him,” said Fig, pointing at one of the guards beside Boss Glosso. He was the guard that had entered the fifth level with them. “He must have put some kind of tracer on us. That’s why Ubik wanted him left alive. He wanted us to end up here like this.”

Ubik was mildly outraged. Fig had no definitive evidence for his baseless accusations, he was just guessing based on past experience and logic. Mere speculation. Simply assuming the worst about someone was tantamount to slander, even if he was correct.

“Yeah, I think you’re right,” said PT. “He planned it, so he can deal with it.” He pointed the arm at the tall man. “If you want this, you’ll have to fight him.” He swung the arm around to point at Ubik.

“Don’t you think you owe him a rematch?” said Ubik. “You did take him by surprise last time.” He looked over at the tall man for confirmation.

“See? Even your friend agrees.” The tall man looked back at the crowd as though attempting to convince them that his loss had been a fluke.

Here was the perfect moment for sucker-punch number two.

But PT did not take the opportunity. 

“You wanted them here, you deal with them,” said PT, taking a step back so that he was level with Ubik. 

“You obviously arranged this,” said Fig, joining PT. “Boss Glosso won’t have told anyone else about this because he doesn’t want to share anything we might have found, so if we take care of them here, where no one can see us, we’ll be able to leave with a decent head start. That’s your plan, isn’t it?”

“Sounds about right,” said PT. “He lets us do the fighting, mops up at the end. But still, I think we’re missing something…”

“Hey, are you going to fight me or not?” shouted the tall man, his eyes glowing for an instant and then powering down. 

Ubik could tell this wasn’t going to work. The tall man, for all his bravado, was scared. He knew better than anyone how easily he’d been taken down last time, and there was no reason to believe this time would be different. 

He was waiting for a better opportunity, overcompensating by being as defensive as possible. Most likely, he had arranged with some of the others to attack as soon as PT made a move to try and catch him off guard. But PT wasn’t making a move.

And Boss Glosso was just watching. He was the dangerous one here. 

“There’s got to be another reason he let them all gather here like this,” said PT. “Something more than a head-on fight.”

“He’s worried about Boss Glosso?” said Fig. “Maybe he’s probably got something extra up his sleeve for after this attack fails. Another team in reserve?”

The mercenaries had quietened down a little as they listened to Fig and PT share their thoughts.

“Hmm,” said PT. “Could be. How do you think they tracked us here? How did those two even get out after we left them wrapped up? The walls don’t open for them.”

“This is really fascinating, guys,” said Ubik, “but don’t you think it would be better to figure this out afterwards?”

“This is your fight,” reiterated PT.

“Captain Jansen,” said Boss Glosso. “Kill the small one. He does not have an organic.”

This information seemed to please Jansen. He switched his focus to Ubik, his eyes glowing.

“This is so unfair,” said Ubik. “Look how many of them there are. And they’re all massive. And I don’t even have an organic.”

Ubik was fine with taking care of them himself. It just meant the other two would be left to handle whatever came next. If that’s the way they wanted it, who was he to refuse? 

This clearly was not the main force. 

No one would start off showing their real strength. 

This was just the warm-up.

“Here,” said PT, holding out the arm. “You can use this if you want.”

Ubik looked at the arm disdainfully. What good was that going to do here?

“Watch out,” shouted someone from behind the tall man. “It’s probably a weapon.”

“Don’t worry, Captain, we’ll keep you boosted,” called out someone else. 

They were all ready to support him. From behind. 

“They’re getting rowdy,” said PT. “You should probably make your move before they get organised.”

“Fine,” said Ubik. “We’ll do this your way. But just so we’re clear, this was your idea.”

Ubik took out a silver ball from the pouch on his belt. It just about fit in his palm. It was what the Antecessors had given him when he explained his plan to go through the first three levels of the site without alerting anyone of their true purpose. This ball would have enabled them to quickly defeat all the droids.

But Ubik never intended to go through the first three levels, it was just a convenient way to get them to give him their technology. It would have come in useful at some point in the future, he thought. He didn’t really want to use it here, but he had no choice.

Ubik held up the ball. “Here.”

“What’s that?” said Jansen. “A grenade? A bomb? That sort of thing won’t work on me.”

Ubik didn’t doubt it. With their suits and organics, a simple explosive would have no effect. But this wasn’t a grenade or a bomb. 

Ubik tossed the ball lightly into the air. It rose up and then stopped, floating.

Thin beams of white light shot out of it, no brighter than sunlight. Each beam struck someone, leaving a dot on their foreheads. 

Helmets slammed down and suits automatically went into defence mode, ready for the attack.

But then the ball fell back into Ubik’s hand.

“What did you—” PT didn’t get any further.

The ball in Ubik’s fist vapourised. 

Each man that had been targeted snapped back his head like he’d been shot.

A silver skin spread out over the surface of their helmets and was absorbed into the suit.

A moment later they all fell to the ground, not moving.

“Did you just kill everyone?” asked Fig.

“No,” said Ubik. “I don’t think so.”

Boss Glosso was the only one left standing, a shield surrounding him was now visible because of the splattered silver liquid now smeared across it. 

“Where did you get that?” he demanded.

“Yeah, where?” said PT, sounding just as irate as Boss Glosso.

“They gave you that?” asked Fig. 

“Why did they give you that?” said PT.

“How does it work?” said Boss Glosso. His interest was more businesslike. 

“Yeah, answer the man,” said PT.

Ubik was a little overwhelmed by the barrage from all sides.

“And why have you left him alive?” asked PT.

“He had some kind of shield,” said Ubik.

“So you’re just going to leave him?” said PT.

“No,” said Ubik. “We’re going to wait for him to attack us.”

“Alone?” said Fig. “Is he really that powerful?”

“I don’t know,” said Ubik. “I’m just going off how confident he looks.”

Boss Glosso did look confident. Not once had he shown any sign of doubt that he was in control here.

“Don’t you think it would be better if you surrendered that arm to me and went on your way?” said Boss Glosso. “If you stay here much longer, all those people looking for you are going to eventually turn up, don’t you think?”

“Does he know who we are?” said Fig.

“Looks like it,” said PT. “I knew it was a bad idea coming here. We should have waited.”

“He hasn’t called anyone,” said Ubik. “He wouldn’t risk letting any of them come here and take away everything he’s worked so hard for. Isn’t that right, Boss Glosso?”

“He knows,” said PT. “Even if we get off this planet, he’s going to tell them where we are.”

“It doesn’t matter if he knows,” said Ubik. “He’s one of those people who need others to do his dirty work for him. We can deal with him on his own.”

“You boys should surrender yourselves to me now,” said Boss Glosso. “You’ve broken many of our rules, but I’m willing to let that go if you pass me that arm and whatever that silver ball was.”

“He does seem very sure of himself,” said Fig.

“But his men are all dead,” said PT.

“They aren’t dead,” said Ubik. “They’re just short-circuited. They can’t move or think.”

“Or breathe,” said PT. “That’s what dead means.”

“I can’t see any life signs from them,” said Fig.

“I’m telling you, they’re fine.

Boss Glosso’s eyes lit up. They were an eerie green colour. “Very well. I see I have no choice.”

The men lying on the ground began to twitch and move. 

They slowly got up, their movements unnatural and jerky. 

“I told you they weren’t dead,” said Ubik.

433: Good Neighbours

I probably should have been worried about what was happening next door but I was too focused on my own shit.

Not that it was hard to figure out why someone who wanted to have a word with me would do it via my neighbour instead of waiting for me inside my own place.

Archie was watching me carefully. My flat was probably bugged or had cameras installed or something.

If they — whoever they were — wanted a word without letting Archie know, they would need to do it in a lateral fashion.

Slip in next door disguised as a pizza delivery guy or whatever, and then wait for me to come home so they could pull me aside without giving themselves away.

The only problem with their plan was that it relied on me giving a fuck about Tony.

I mean, he was a nice enough bloke. I wouldn’t want anything bad to happen to him, just like I wouldn’t want anything bad to happen to anyone. But since when has anyone cared about what I wanted?

People die all over the world all the time without anyone consulting me on the matter. I didn’t see what difference it made if tragedies occurred halfway around the world or on the other side of my partition wall.

That kind of postcode empathy is the epitome of bollocks. You either give a shit or you don’t. And I didn’t.

Of course, if we’re talking about family or close friends, then sure, you have every right to be affected if they are suffering in some way.

But if you get all bent out of shape over someone you don’t really know, they just live near you, then you’re just a pretentious muppet who probably writes for the Daily Mail. Dude, she’s dead, and you never even met her. Stop playing Candle in the Wind on repeat and let it go.

Magic. That was where my head was at.

I locked my front door and then got a chair from the kitchen and wedged it up against the door handle for extra security. I didn’t want to be disturbed by whoever had Tony by the throat, and I didn’t want to be disturbed by Tony begging for help.

Having said that, it’s still difficult to not feel some sort of desire to prevent the suffering of others when it’s happening right in front of you. Nobody likes to see that sort of thing, especially when you’re as squeamish as me.

Which is why it’s important to remember that people can’t make you feel bad (or guilty or ashamed) if you can’t see or hear them.

Yes, it would be a terrible dilemma if the terrorists made demands that would lead to the deaths of innocents if they were refused, but it becomes a much easier decision to not negotiate with them when you have no idea what the terrorists want or who the hostages are.

Once I was in my flat with no one to bother me, I was able to relax and think about how best to reactivate the supernatural abilities that would enable me to start living the life of a superpowered arsehole.

Obviously, I wasn’t going to use my powers for the good of mankind. Mankind not only didn’t deserve it, it would never accept it.

Can you imagine the fuckery that would ensue if someone genuinely tried to be a superhero irl?

The media, the public, the government — they would all make that person’s life a living hell, right up the moment they sliced him open as they tried to obtain that power for themselves. In the name of the greater good or national security or a BBC documentary narrated by David Attenborough.

It wouldn’t be like in the movies, where the costumed hero works from the shadows with the help of a noble cop and an incorruptible politician. Batman being real had a far higher chance of being true than either of those two existing.

Nope. A complete asshat who used his powers to deliberately make others feel weak and inferior was the only way you’d ever get any time to yourself.

I sat cross-legged on my bed and tried to reconnect with the source of magic that was inside of me through the power of meditation. I also tried yoga and breathing funny until I felt lightheaded. I may have got distracted by Youtube when I researched the best ways to lose all sense of self.

Even though I had done this once before, it had been difficult. Wanting it, being desperate for it, putting my all into the effort, none of that had worked.

In the end, it had taken a complete lack of self-belief and an expectation of failure before I finally succeeded in producing that first flame on my finger.

Sometimes, you have to give up completely before you can access the real you.

The problem was that now that I knew what was possible, it was much harder to have no expectations. This time, I would need to find a different way to bypass hope.

But this was not an insurmountable problem. I just needed to find another way to get there.

This was a clear sign of my emotional growth and maturity. No longer was I the simpering, bitter boy who blamed others for his miserable existence, now I was the simpering, bitter boy who was willing to apply himself in the pursuit of punishing all those who were responsible for my miserable existence.

Or that’s what I would have been doing if it weren’t for the sounds of punching, slapping and whimpering that were filtering through the wall.

My would-be interrogator was apparently taking out his frustrations on Tony.

Although, my guess was that it was a ploy to win over my sympathies so I would cave and rush to the rescue.

I lay down and put the pillow over my head as a drill started whirring. Tony was quite the handyman, so he probably had a whole range of electrical appliances for his assailant to use, each no doubt noisier than the last.

Life is distractions. If you want to succeed, you have to learn how to block them out. Focus and sacrifice, that’s what makes winners according to Michael Phelps, record-breaking Olympic medalist. Goddam Youtube. I wonder how many people he’s ignored being tortured in pursuit of excellence. Since he went to Beijing for the games in 2008, probably quite a few.

I tried my best to replicate the state of mind I had managed to reach the first time I performed magic, but I couldn’t do it. I was having difficulty even finding a starting point for my transformation into a wizard.

When I’d healed the tramp earlier, I hadn’t been in a transcendent stupor, I’d been quite freaked out by the state of the tramp’s face, which I was responsible for.

What if that was what triggered it? How was I going to replicate the feeling of wanting to puke at the sight of a horrible disfigurement?

I got up, went to my front door and removed the chair. I went out onto the landing and knocked on Tony’s door. The door opened a few moments later.

Tony peered out through the narrow opening. He looked a bit worse for wear. His eye, the one I could see, was all puffy and purple, and his bottom lip was bleeding.

“You came back…” His voice was hoarse and a bit shaky. He looked like he was ready to burst into tears.

“Is that guy still here?” I asked.

Tony’s eye flicked to the side and he nodded.

“Can I speak to him?”

The door opened wider and Tony stepped back.

“Come in,” said another voice. It sounded a little foreign but it was hard to place. Asian, East European, North African — it had that Tom Hardy playing Bane, chewing your own tongue while speaking quality to it.

I walked in. Not necessarily a smart move on my part, but if I needed something to freak me out, why not use what was closest to hand? Nothing wrong with popping next door to borrow a cup of trauma.

The hall I was in was identical to mine, except for the man in a hoodie holding a knife pointed at Tony’s terrified face.

He was shorter than me, which must have made getting a date on Tinder a bit of a pain, but he was quite stocky and gave off the impression that he could break things with his hands without meaning to. Not someone you’d want to hold your pet rabbit.

“I’m glad you decided to—”

“Sure. Look, I need you to do me a favour. I need you to scare the shit out of me.”

There was a moment of silence.

“I don’t understand,” said the hooded man. “I just need you to come with me for a talk. We mean you no harm.”

“Yeah, that’s great, but first…” How was I going to get him to play along? His whole reason for being here was to get me alone so he could convince me to come over to his side. “I can come with you, but I need to make it look like it was under duress, you understand? I had no choice.”

“Ah… yes, I see.” He lowered the knife as he started to see us as accomplices in some kind of joint subterfuge. “You need to convince Larwood.”

“That’s right,” I said. “But it has to be convincing. He has ways of knowing the truth.” This was guesswork on my part, but it felt plausible.

My partner in crime nodded his head.

“Yes. I understand.” He raised the knife and stabbed Tony in the side of his large stomach, which came as a surprise to Tony who opened his mouth to scream.

His stabber immediately put a gloved hand over Tony’s mouth to stifle the scream and stabbed him again, all the while facing me. But I couldn’t see his face under the hood and the whole performance was a little lacklustre.

“No, that’s not really working.” It was sort of shocking, but there wasn’t any blood for some reason, and the truth was, the attack lacked any real drama. Tony just wasn’t selling it, he just went a bit limp.

The guy was clearly a psycho but this felt like it was moving in the right direction. And once I got my powers, I’d be able to heal Tony, so it wasn’t like I was on board the psychopathic express with him.

“I need something to get my blood racing, you know? Heart thumping, cold sweats, hairs standing on end. Verifiable reactions.”

“I could cut the skin off his face,” my new buddy offered.

Tony took a sharp inhale of breath and bent over like he was about to pass out. The man let him lower himself to his knees but held onto his mouth.

“No, that doesn’t sound like it would work. Hurting him won’t be enough.”

“But he is your friend.”

“Hmm, no, I wouldn’t say friend.”

“You’ve lived next door to him for years.”

It’s really quite hard to explain to a non-Londoner what it’s like living here. I don’t want to come across like some elitist snob, but you can’t really appreciate just how few fucks are given here per capita unless you spend some time here not getting to know the locals.

While me and the psycho were chatting, Tony took this opportunity to grab a drill from somewhere and plunge it into the man’s head.

I didn’t see much as they both rolled around on the floor, but there was a dreadful noise as metal hit bone, and a weird gurgle from inside the man’s hood. He spasmed as Tony went ham on the DIY front.

Tony turned towards me, drill whirring in his hand, eyes wild and crazy. “You… How could you? He did things to me...” He looked very distraught and not a little unhinged.

“Now, Tony, calm down. I can explain.”

Could I? Probably not to anyone’s satisfaction, but this was what you said to a deranged person wielding a drill.

He started to come towards me, the drill held like a gun, whirring and spraying blood around. He looked ready to use it on me.

And then he stopped.

“Wha…?” he managed to say, the rage and madness in his eyes replaced by confusion.

He was looking at my waist. No, it was my hands. I looked down to find they were slightly on fire.

“Oh my god, it worked,” I said, holding up my hands which were covered with blue flames. “Thank you, Tony, thank you.”

I grabbed him by the shoulders and he screamed as I accidentally set his clothes on fire.

 

Book 4 - 8: The Only Way Is Up

Second Quadrant

Cairo-3998 aka Planet Challenger

The Dungeon — Fifth Level

 

The cracks in the floors were getting bigger, the walls were shaking and bits of the roof were falling down.

Point-Two found it hard to keep his balance with the floor moving under him, but the area in the middle was the least affected. In fact, the area around Ubik seemed the only place still completely intact.

Ubik himself didn’t seem to be all that worried. His attention was on the pink stone in his hand which he was staring at lovingly, turning it this way and that like a precious jewel.

It was an ugly pink stone, a bit like a raw crystal yet to be refined. But it gave off a light that bathed Ubik, putting him into a trance, it seemed.

The pinkish light that had emanated from the walls and floor tiles had disappeared at the same time as Ubik had made Point-Two shatter the pillar. Everything around them had turned dark and inert, like ancient ruins.

“Put it back,” said Point-Two. “Put that thing back where you found it.” He had to shout to be heard, not just because of the noise but because Ubik wasn’t listening. He had said he would think of a way out but he seemed completely enamoured by the pink stone he had picked up.

“I don’t think he can,” said Fig, who looked pale and unsteady.

“Are you still suppressing your organic?” said Point-Two. “I think you can stop.”

“I think my organic wants to kill Ubik,” Fig said through gritted teeth.

“At this point, I’m willing to let it have a go,” said Point-Two.

“Yes, it’s fine, you can let it go,” Ubik called over to them. “That should help with the, er…” He pointed vaguely at the rapidly disintegrating ceiling.

A large rock smashed into one of the floor tiles and went through it. A blast of light shot out and then the area where the tile had been went dark.

Fig groaned and let out a long breath. He steadied himself.

Everything stopped falling apart.

“You alright?” asked Point-Two, looking around.

“Yeah.”

“And your organic?”

“Fine. I think he’s calmed down.”

Point-Two had also calmed down. The sudden change of plan, from getting the key and leaving to finding some pink rock and getting buried in a cave-in, had taken him by surprise.

He had known things wouldn’t go according to plan, of course, but it was still a shock to have the world start to collapse around them.

“Is that it?” said Point-Two. “No more surprises?”

Ubik shrugged. “If I knew that, it wouldn’t be a surprise.” He was acting like he had nothing to do with what had just happened. “You two did great, by the way. I had no way to tell you to suppress that bastard without him knowing, but you figured it out. Honestly, you’d both make excellent thieves. Top notch.”

“Here,” said Fig, holding out the skeleton arm and hand. “What do you want to do with this?”

The hand was still curled into a fist with one bony finger pointing upwards. It was a strange, four-fingered claw that looked like no animal Point-Two had ever seen. As Fig moved it around, the hand always pointed in the same direction.

“Hold on,” said Point-Two. “Let’s make sure we can get out of here first. Can we get out of here?”

“Of course,” said Ubik.

“How?” asked Point-Two.

“Same way we came in,” said Ubik.

“I don’t know if you’ve noticed,” said Point-Two, “but the walls have changed. No more pinkish glow. The only pink light now is coming from you.”

The stone in Ubik’s hand was giving off a glow that illuminated the area around them. Beyond that, the room that had been giving off a menacing energy when they had arrived was now dead and lifeless. Point-Two could feel the difference, and he could also see where all that energy was now.

“Let me try,” said Fig, walking up to the nearest wall. Nothing changed. No opening appeared, no pink glow. “I don’t feel anything. It isn’t opening.” He put out a hand and patted the wall. It remained the same.

“What does your organic say?”

“That we should kill Ubik and examine his insides for an explanation of what he is,” said Fig.

Point-Two wasn’t completely against the plan.

“How do we get out now?” said Point-Two. “You’ve taken the thing that let us move through the walls.”

“This?” said Ubik, looking at his hand. “Oh, I suppose it is related to that, yes.”

“What is it, Ubik? And why do you want it?”

“Are we still talking about this thing?”

“Yes, Ubik, we are.”

“Ah, well, I suppose it’s basically what you would call, um, how can I put this…”

“Is it the planet’s core?” said Fig.

“Not exactly.”

“Isn’t it a bit small for that?” said Point-Two.

“This planet doesn’t really have a core,” said Ubik. “It’s not really a planet. It was made especially to house this, which was made to house that. But sometimes — and you would know this if you were a veteran of high-end burglaries — the safe is worth more than the valuables inside it.”

Ubik paused to let his words hang in the air.

“Can you use it to open the way back to the surface?” asked Point-Two.

“Given enough time…”

“Give me that,” said Point-Two.

“It’s probably better if I hang onto it. It’s incredibly powerful. Like, more powerful than a planet’s core. Like, the next generation, with far greater processing power and much better audio. If something like this were to fall into the wrong hands…” Ubik shook his head. “We have to be very careful with it. If it gets damaged, it’ll greatly affect its price on the black market.”

“It already has fallen into the wrong hands,” said Point-Two. “Give it here” He held out his hand.

Ubik reluctantly handed it over.

“Take it,” said Point-Two, passing the rock onto Fig, who swapped it for the skeleton arm. “See if you can connect with it. It was made for you, so I think you should be able to access its power.”

Fig closed his eyes and his breathing slowed.

Point-Two looked at the hand moving around at the top of the skeleton arm as he turned it from side to side.

“This is the map, right?” said Point-Two. “This is what we need.”

“I suppose,” said Ubik. “It’ll show us where to go.” His eyes were on Fig and the pink rock. He didn’t seem very interested in the actual reason they had come here.

Fig opened his eyes. “I don’t feel anything.”

“And your organic?”

“He’s sulking because I won’t let him dissect Ubik.”

“You can’t trust it,” said Ubik

“We can’t trust you,” said Point-Two.

“Of course you can. You just don’t want to.”

“I can’t do it,” said Fig, a little out of breath.

“I told you,” said Ubik. “It’s very advanced. The moment we came to this world, I could tell there was something here, like a monster waiting to be found. That stone could unlock so many mysteries. So many. But it needs the right conditions, the right materials to be able to release its concentrated power. It could take years.”

Point-Two took the stone from Fig.

“The right material is obviously this.” He waved the bone arm about. “All we need to do is put them together, and Fig will be able to use it again.”

He heard Ubik’s protests but he ignored them. Something about imploding the planet or creating a mini-blackhole. It wasn’t very clear.

But the bone had very definitely felt like it belonged with the hand, and when he followed that instinct, the two had joined together.

Now, it felt like this pink crystal also was part of this set.

Ubik had talked about flow, and there was a kind of flow here. A sense of connection.

He could either rely on Ubik’s eye for a choice relic with high resale value, or he could go with his own gut.

Point-Two brought his two hands closer and there was a definite attraction.

He had changed things but he hadn’t tried to merge them. Now he let these separate objects find a common base to share.

“I think it’s working,” said Fig.

The pink rock seemed to lose its shape, thinning out, turning into a pink liquid. It enveloped the bone, slithering across its black surface. Up to the hand and over its digits.

Soon, it had covered the whole thing like a skin. Very much like a skin.

The hand and arm almost looked alive.

“Try now,” said Point-Two, reaching out with the arm.

“No, I think you should,” said Fig. “I feel like it might collapse once you let go.”

He also had an inkling that he was only just managing to keep it in this state. He turned to the wall and touched it with the hand, which was pointing up still.

The wall shimmered and warped, and then opened like a dark mouth. The tunnel beyond it undulated like it wasn’t fully formed.

“Which way?” said PT.

“I don’t know,” said Ubik.

“I thought you were all about the flow,” said Point-Two. “Where’s the flow telling you to go?”

“There,” said Ubik, pointing at the arm in Point-Two’s hand. “This is what I followed. But it’s got to be up, so we just aim the way the finger’s pointing. By the way, seeing the way you handled that thing gives me an idea. What if we cut off your arm…”

“No.”

“Wait. And then we, no I haven’t finished, then we replace it, no, hold on, let me explain, we replace it with that arm.”

“Definitely not,” said Point-Two. He walked into the tunnel, the arm stretched out ahead of him.

“But you would have full access. Probably. What could it hurt?”

Point-Two was tempted to turn around and use the hand to slap Ubik in the face, but he didn’t.

The tunnel was long and continuous. No small rooms to break up the journey. They travelled far further than on the journey to get here.

They were also on an upward incline. It boded well for an easy escape. They would get to the surface, get back to the ship, and then they could head directly for the Antecessor homeworld.

Light appeared ahead of them and they hurried forward. A breeze, which meant they were outside. Maybe they were no longer inside the dome of Daring City.

The last part was a little tricky as the tunnel went straight up and they had to climb out.

They were in a large open area with no buildings.

Boss Glosso stood in front of them. Behind him were at least thirty men, all heavily armed and wearing battle armour, including the two they had left locked inside their own suits.

“Welcome back,” said Boss Glosso, a smug smile on his face. “What is that and please hand it over?”