V. Moody's Blog, page 22

Book 2 – 52: Power Up

Third Quadrant.

Asteroid Tethari.

Unknown Antecessor Location.

 

Ubik peered at the bubble helmet shaped like the map of the asteroid that sat on Nifell’s shoulders. It glowed with a soft pink light that illuminated the patterns engraved into the walls, and also the back of Nifell’s closely shaved scalp. He walked with a firm stride suggesting determination and certainty — two very un-Nifell-like qualities.

Head had returned willingly to his host, and the host had welcomed him in. They had formed something of an unlikely partnership, the soldier who had lost his nerve and the guardian who had left his post. Now they were both striving to complete a new mission. But it was clear who was in charge.

The map continued to show their current position but not much else in their immediate surroundings. The tunnel extended ahead and behind. The rest of the base rose above their position. A single point of interest could be seen below. The tunnel was some place in between.

The rest of the asteroid was blank. There was lots more there, as Head had briefly shown them, but it was no longer visible since they had left the small room that had tried to kidnap Fig.

“You know where you’re going, do you?” asked Ubik.

The map stretched and transformed into Head, looking at Ubik with two vertical eyes. It was a bit odd being faced by someone walking ahead of you.

“Assuming the basic structure has not changed, we will come to a central shaft. The control configuration is shielded and should still be available to me. From there I will be able to access any level without interference.”

“Won’t they be waiting for us like they were back there?” said PT from right behind Ubik.

Ubik would have jumped if the increased gravity down here hadn’t made it too much of an effort to be startled. Still, it was impressive how quietly PT could move. If life was going to continue to be this eventful, Ubik would have to look into becoming more stealthy and clandestine. He tended to rely on running very fast and taking corners without slowing, but that would be hard to do in long, straight tunnels with a surplus of gravity all over the place.

“What are you doing?” said PT.

Ubik had stopped moving and had his hand on the sloping wall, the angle forming a perfect equilateral triangle with the other two sides. The triangular design was very unusual.

“Interesting,” he murmured to himself.

“What is?” said PT.

“These markings,” said Ubik. “Very interesting, don’t you think?”

“I don’t know,” said PT. “I have no idea what they mean.”

“Really? You can’t… Oh, sorry. Only taught you basic things on your ship, I suppose. How to recycle your own urine and the dangers of opening a window. Must be awful all the times someone felt a bit hot and opened a window to get some air, only to get sucked out into the vacuum of space.”

“I think,” said PT, “that you only joke when things are bad. And the worse the jokes, the more grim our situation. We’re going to die, aren’t we?”

Ubik smiled and nodded. He always appreciated PT’s bluntness. “Of course. But before that, we’ll make some memories, shed some tears, maybe even meet some girls who aren’t trying to kill us.”

“I find that very unlikely,” said PT. He didn’t say which part.

“Look at the way this place flows in the same direction,” said Ubik.

“It’s a tunnel,” said PT. “It can only flow in one direction.”

“Not just this tunnel, the whole place.” Ubik leaned to see past PT. “The map, have you got it recorded?”

Fig nodded. He tapped the controls on his arm and an image of the asteroid appeared around Ubik’s head. It wasn’t a live feed like the one Head was transmitting via Nifell’s suit, but it contained the full map Head had given them a glimpse of. It came as no surprise to Ubik that Fig had had the presence of mind to grab a snapshot.

“Look at it,” said Ubik. “Unlike any engine I’ve ever seen yet every line of its design screams thrust and oomph and grrrr.”

PT peered at Ubik, trying to see what Ubik saw. “Those the technical terms are they?”

“So much to take in,” said Ubik. “How was it powered? What was the conversion rate? Was there waste? Was it displacement-based? Did it create motion or shift through sub-space? Is the wormhole its exhaust fumes!?!” There were so many questions, so many possibilities. “I could wander around here for days and never tire of this place.”

“We do not have time to ponder,” said Head, his face appearing and disappearing from the back of Nifell’s head. He had stopped to wait for them, which told Ubik he needed them.

“You could tell me the answers,” said Ubik.

“That is not part of our agreement,” said Head, reappearing. “I will find out what happened while I was gone. You will remain alive to assist me.” He set off again but slowly.

“Okay, good talk,” said Ubik. He turned to PT. “We’ll let him take us to the control room and then we fly this baby around the quadrant, our own personal cruiser. Need to give it a new paint job first, though.” He began walking.

“I think the Antecessors might have something to say about that,” said PT.

“Frankly,” said Ubik, “I’m surprised we aren’t dead already. They only want Fig, you’d think they’d have figured a way to get rid of the rest of us by now.”

“Didn’t they just try?” said Fig from behind PT.

“Back there?” said Ubik. “They were just being cute, testing to see what we’re made of. Now that they know we have Head working with us I expect they’ll get serious. Can’t afford to take it easy when we have an ex-resident on our side. He knows how this place operates, all the secrets.”

“What do you mean, ‘more serious’?” said PT. “More serious how?”

Ubik shrugged. “I’m not an Antecessor, am I?”

“We don’t know what you are, Ubik,” said PT drily.

“Well, I’m not, believe me.” Ubik’s hand brushed against the wall as he walked, feeling the grooves and ridges through his gloved fingertips. It was like a tactile language he couldn’t translate. Yet. “All this beautiful alien tech and I have no idea how any of it works.” He sighed. “If I were them, I’d turn the engine on and blast us into atoms.”

“Wouldn’t that kill Fig?” said PT.

“Hmm.” That was true. “I’d separate us first. That’s probably going to be their next move. Divide and cremate.”

“They might not be able to turn it on,” said Fig. “It must be several thousand years since the last time.”

“Oh, I don’t know,” said Ubik. “Looks like it’s in pretty good condition.” He patted the wall. “You saw how quickly everything came online in that room. They were fast and Head was even faster. He really knows this place, knows how to work around the changes they’ve made while he’s been away. Right, Head?” There was no response from either Head or Nifell. “He’s our advantage over them. At least until he turns on us.”

“So when you got him to reboot the system,” said PT, “it could have reignited the engine and killed us all?”

“No,” said Ubik, shaking his head with confidence. “Definitely not. Zero chance of that happening.”

“How can you be so sure?” said PT.

“We’re alive aren’t we?” said Ubik.

“Flawless logic,” said PT. “Absolutely flawless.”

“Thanks. Even if there was a slight risk, this is still an excellent way to enter a site that’s keen on not letting anyone in. Nobody ever thinks to go in via the propulsion system — who would be that crazy? Obviously, it requires a very large engine or very small trespassers, and also for the engine not to be operating at the time, but apart from that it’s the perfect entry point if you don’t want to be noticed.”

“Oh, I think we’ve been noticed,” said PT.

“I don’t understand why they attacked us,” said Fig. “They want us to go to where my father is, that’s why they took him. And that’s where we want to go, where we are going. Why not just wait till we get there?”

“Maybe it wasn’t us they attacked,” said Ubik.

The three of them looked at Nifell-Head walking ahead of them.

“They see it as that much of a threat?” said PT.

“We don’t know what it did to get kicked out,” said Ubik. “Could be a very bad Head. Some sort of glitch in the network that could destroy us all.”

“And you’ve given it the keys to the place,” said PT, not sounding very impressed.

“As long as it gets me to my father, I don’t really care what it does,” said Fig.

“That’s the spirit,” said Ubik.

After a few more minutes of walking, the tunnel ended in a triangular opening. According to the map on NIf’s head, there as a square room through it, much larger than the last one. Nifell paused before going through.

“There is no indication of Antecessor presence,” said Head. “But do not touch anything. You may inadvertently give away our location.” He went in.

The other three followed, led by Ubik.

The room was square but also very tall. A four-sided shaft that went up beyond sight and down into darkness. The only light came from their suits but it was enough to know it was a long way down.

The platform they were on went around the sides, only a metre or so wide with no guardrail. Other than the sounds of their boots on the metallic platform, it was deathly silent.

Nifell was standing to one side facing the wall. Fig was next to him, looking at the back of his helmet. The map showed the complete internal structure of the asteroid. His father appeared to be directly below them but still some distance. The structural elements of the engine continued a long way beyond. There didn’t appear to be any other exit.

“How do we get down?” said Fig, leaning slightly to look down into the depths of the shaft.

“One moment,” said Head. “I will activate the transport system.” Nifell’s hands ran over the wall and lights flashed on and off. The grooves in the wall filled with silver liquid.

An opaque red wall appeared around Head and Fig, surrounding them on two sides, putting them into a triangular cubicle — a tribicle? — separating them from Ubik and PT. Head continued to work on whatever mechanism was inside the wall. Fig peered at them through the red wall, mouthing something. He pointed at Head, then at his arm. He waved his hands across each other.

“That red wall’s blocking the comms,” said Ubik. “But I think he’s saying he wishes he’d taken the time to learn more dance moves.”

“He’s saying he can’t override Nif’s suit,” said PT.

“Oh, I suppose that’s another interpretation.”

“No, that’s what he’s saying. I can lip-read.”

“Is now really the time to brag?” said Ubik. “Tell him it’s fine, just wait.”

“How do I tell him that?” said PT.

“You’re the one who said you can lip-read,” said Ubik.

“It doesn’t work like that. Just because I can... Forget it. How do we get through the force field or whatever it is.”

“It looks more like shielding. Probably stops the Antecessors interfering. And, you know, blocks radiation and stuff.”

“You aren’t suspicious?” said PT. “You don’t think this is where he betrays us to the Antecessors?”

“No,” said Ubik. “He isn’t with the Antecessors. He’s with whoever built this ship.”

“Not the Antecessors?” said PT.

“Didn’t you see the map?” said Ubik. “Didn’t you notice how different the three sections are?”

“Three sections?” said PT.

“Yes. The base built by Ramon Ollo, the facility built by the Antecessors, and this.” Ubik raised his arms towards the shaft. “The engine.”

“The Antecessors didn’t build the engine?” said PT.

“Obviously not. Look at the design of this place, all woosh and zoom and going places. Then look at the Antecessor plug they stuck on top, rigid and choking. They wanted to make sure this place couldn’t be fired up. Big block on top, no joy rides.”

“Then what is he?” said PT. “An enemy of the Antecessors?”

“More like a victim,” said Ubik. “They stole his ship, chucked him out and vandalised the place. Probably wanted the wormhole to themselves.”

There was a loud sound, like huge metal cogs clunking together. The shaft lit up in silvery light. A second sound began, but in the distance, and growing louder.

“And what’s that sound?” asked PT.

“Well, I’m not an expert,” said Ubik, “but I’d guess ignition.”

“Doesn’t that mean we’re about to be blasted into atoms?” said PT.

“Yep,” said Ubik. “Probably what the shield’s for.”

“But we’re not behind the shield,” said PT.

“Nope,” said Ubik. The shaft began to glow brighter and the sound became a lot louder.

Book 2 - 51: Team Rogue

Third Quadrant.

Asteroid Tethari.

Ollo Base.

 

Chukka ran through the darkness, down the long tunnel, moving as fast as she could. The reduced gravity on the asteroid allowed her to take long strides without tiring.

If she had been wearing her personal spacesuit, its augmented features would have sent her rocketing down the tunnel much faster. But even then she doubted it would be able to outpace that bizarre droid-creature.

One person versus an Antecessor droid was not much of a contest, and that was when you had the most advanced tech to defend yourself with. Coming into an Antecessor site with only basic gear had been a risk from the start but she had seen it as the best way to counter Ubik’s particular set of skills. She hadn’t expected to be ambushed by an insanium class droid before she’d even entered the site. She still wasn’t sure what insanium class was, but she had seen enough to know normal protocols for dealing with droids didn’t apply.

Her only hope was to rely on it being distracted by the Holover image of Ubik long enough for her to get to safety, assuming there was any to be found on this rock.

Why it had been so fascinated by him she had no idea but that was hardly something to worry about. Her own encounters with Ubik had left her just as fascinated. She could only assume the droid had experienced something similar.

Arms and legs pumped in time with each other as Chukka pushed herself. She wanted to stop, to look back in case she was being pursued, but what would she do if she was? It would only cut short the only advantage she had — distance.

She was not trained for fieldwork but she liked to keep herself fit and able. Even in Public Relations, sometimes you needed to run for your life. And you never stopped to see if you were ahead.

The rules she had been taught to succeed in business applied now more than ever. Her team was dead, she was on her own and without any form of backup. She had even lost her EPK, the one piece of equipment a PR agent always held onto. Right now, it was acting as an entertainment device for a giant droid. That wasn’t even one of the options listed in the manual. She would have to see about adding it.

The tunnel ended in a door. It was too dark to see but she had memorised the layout of the base. VendX had detailed files on the base, the asteroid, the first two levels of the Antecessor facility. Every detail Ramon Ollo had logged about the asteroid had been leached by VendX’s Deep Research division from numerous sources over several years and at great expense.

All the information she needed to access the site, both the Antecessor levels and the Ollo base sitting on top of them, was loaded onto her electronic press kit, and she had no intention of going back to get it.

The door had to be close. She flashed the light on her suit to get an idea of how much further. She hadn’t wanted to keep the light on in case it drew unwanted attention but neither did she want to run into a closed blast door. How she would get it open was going to be the next problem.

The light from her suit showed the door up ahead. Her estimation had been almost perfect. She was good at guessing, always had been. Sizing up a situation, making rough calculations. She was rarely off. But she hadn’t thought there would be someone waiting for her.

Two people, in fact. Neither in VendX gear. By the way they were standing she didn’t need to guess where they came from. The Seneca Corps had a posture all of its own, trademarked and vehemently litigated. Everyone who worked in PR knew that stance. It was the classic example of aggression-branding. Even a shadow on a wall was enough to produce an immediate surrender.

As her light went out, two lights came on, aimed in her eyes.

Chukka slowed down. Her options were limited. Behind her was almost certain death. In front of her was a near insurmountable obstacle. It would take all of her Public Relations training to find a way through this maze of complications. Fortunately, this was what her training had been for.

“You don’t want to stand there,” said Chukka. “I’m bringing company. Antecessor droid’s right behind me.”

“You Major Chukka?” said a flat voice that sounded unimpressed by her warning.

Chukka came to a stop. “Yes. You know me?”

“You’re alone. Everyone dead?” The tone was so matter of fact it made the death of her team seem hardly worth confirming.

“Yes. The droid, it…”

“We know. We came to get you.”

“What does the Corps want with me?” The Corps taking advantage of Ramon Ollo’s death was no surprise but she hadn’t expected to be targeted personally.

“Nothing. We aren’t Corps.”

Ex-corps mercenaries. A million questions jumped into Chukka’s mind but she pushed them aside. Now was not the time.

“You’re here to raid the site? This is an Ollo base, you know that, right? Ramon Ollo?”

“We are aware. We have a connection to his son. I think Ramon Ollo would find VendX presence on his asteroid more of a concern, don’t you?”

They were here for the son. That made sense, in a convoluted way. The mother. But why send in mercs? To hide Seneca’s involvement? Since when did Seneca care about how they were perceived? No, wait, there was the Central Authority to consider. The whole thing was a political minefield. Something she could use it to her advantage.

“I’m here on a mission of—”

“Sure you are. We made a deal with your man Flott. We bring you into the base, you get us into the facility down below. You’re the one with the access, right?”

What had Flott told them? She was the one with the plan to get inside the Antecessor facility and locate Ubik, but it wasn’t guaranteed access by any means. And that was before she lost her EPK.

“Yes,” said Chukka. “He isn’t authorised to make any deals, though.”

“Then you can stay out here and wait for the rogue droid.”

“You know about that thing? What is it?”

“Enough with the questions,” said a second, no less testy voice. “You agree to an exchange of services or not? We have other options we can explore.”

A negotiation would normally be something Chukka would have welcomed, but she wasn’t too keen on spending time out here when she could be inside the base and in a defensible position. Ninety percent of a winning strategy was down to location management.

“Fine. We can sort this out once we’re inside.”

“No, we can sort it out now. We take you in, you take us down. Deal?”

An inhuman howl echoed down the tunnel.

“Okay. Not like I have much choice.” She had come here with a plan to deal with the Ollo network and the Antecessor defence grid. Throwing in the Seneca Corps on top wasn’t going to make things any more impossible.

The lights turned off and the door slid open, spilling soft red light into the tunnel. She could see one of the women had cables running from her suit into a service port on the wall. VendX weren’t the only ones with contingencies in place for dealing with Ollo tech it seemed.

The woman yanked the cables out of the wall and the door began to slide closed.

“Better hurry, Major,” said the slightly taller of the women as they both entered the base without waiting for her.

Chukka did hurry. She wasn’t sure what the best play was, but it certainly wasn’t sitting out here.

The doors closed behind her. They were in a small vestibule, the first checkpoint. Normally, the Ollo network would run a security scan, the red light a probe-spectrum that was able to analyse down to the genetic level, but her forward team would have disabled that.

“My men, are they—”

“You’ll see for yourself.”

“Can I at least know what to call you?” Time to revert to the basics. Identify, form an alliance, share core goals, build trust.

“I’m Weyla, this is my sister Leyla. If you try any of your PR bullshit on either of us, I’ll shoot you in the face.”

“Right,” said Chukka. Sometimes it was better to take a slower approach.

There was another door on the far side of the room. The one called Leyla plugged her cables into the wall and the door opened. How advanced was their tech? If they were ex-Seneca, probably not the latest. If they were working under a disavow contract, they might have been given an incursion packet. If she had her EPK, she might be able to run a hack. VendX support software versus Seneca’s. Who would win?

There was a passage ahead of them and consoles lining the walls showing no signs of activity. The lighting was limited to strips on the floor; the main power was either out or deliberately restricted. If her men were following VendX guidelines, they would have shut down all but the essential systems.

The two women marched down the dimly lit corridor like they owned the place. They had their guns drawn but hanging at their sides. Their heads occasionally tilted to one side, their hands sending signals back and forth between them constantly.

“Stay away from the sides,” said Weyla. “It likes to come out of the walls.”

“Up here?” said Chukka. “This isn’t Antecessor construction.”

“It isn’t a normal droid,” said Leyla.

She already knew that much but this droid seemed unlike anything she had ever been taught. Admittedly, her knowledge was limited. She had never been interested in running delves or raiding Antecessor ships, but she knew enough to recognise this thing as being highly unusual, possibly unique. Still, the Advanced Research agents had been able to identify it as insanium class, which meant it wasn’t unheard of.

“It’s insanium class,” said Chukka.

“Yes,” said Weyla.

“You’ve encountered one before?”

“No,” said Leyla. “There’s only been one other reported. There was only one survivor.”

She didn’t say who the survivor was but Chukka sensed the shift in tone, a definite rise in the Vemer Index of her voice denoting a small uptick in pride, suggesting the sole survivor was a member of the Corps. Did that mean they knew how to handle the droid? Or that only one person could?

They arrived in front of double doors.

“Your men are holed up in here,” said Weyla.

Leyla kicked the door and shouted, “It’s us.”

The doors slid open. The control room was brightly lit, blinding Chukka for a moment. When her eyes adjusted, she saw two men peering at her from the far corner, weapons drawn.

One was the team leader, Flott, the other was the tech Bashir.

“Where’s Condos?” she said as she walked in. He was the PR consultant she had put on the team. More importantly, he would have an EPK.

“Dead,” said Flott. His eyes looked Chukka over which she found objectionable before realising he was taking in the blood she was covered in. The Seneca women hadn’t even registered it. “So is Deku. Only you made it?” He didn’t sound surprised. The man’s voice was as grim as his face. His Vemer Index was off the charts, and not in a good direction. “That thing killed them and every other agent sent down here except for these two.”

“No contesting operatives?” said Chukka. That at least would be some good news.

“No.” There as an additional level of umbrage in Flott’s voice. He was taking this all very personally.

“We brought her,” said Weyla. “Let’s get moving.”

“Wait,” said Chukka. “Condos body, where is it?”

Flott’s face tightened but he only nodded towards the other end of the room. Chukka moved across to find two bodies, what was left of them, lying on the floor covered in the baggy insert suits they’d used to slip inside the base’s defence grid. They were useless now, absorbing sensor lights like a sponge until the skein went inert, now only good for covering the dead.

Chukka lifted one of them to find a mangled corpse, no arms, only one leg. Not Condos, thankfully. The other body had its head missing but the arms were still intact. Chukka bent down and detached the EPK. It was an older model from hers but it would do. She clicked it onto her suit.

“Bashir, uplink me to the orbital.”

“Can’t,” said Bashir. “The Ollo network is in the middle of fighting off the Antecessor grid. Surprisingly evenly matched. Both are jamming everything in or out.”

“Didn’t you suppress both of them?”

“Yes,” said Flott.

“Then do it again.”

Flott looked at the console next to him. There was a smashed up cube sitting on it. “Didn’t like the feedback.”

Chukka looked at the control panel on her arm. There was a lot of useful information there but not what she needed. “Can you do a lateral-link? My EPK is back in the tunnel. I need the data uploaded here.”

Bashir nodded. “Maybe.” He came over and examined her arm. “Won’t be able to download restricted material.”

“You won’t need to, I left it running.”

A mild look of surprise crossed Bashir’s face but he set to work. His eyes flickered with green light as he made adjustments.

There was a click and her arm began to vibrate. The warmth of the unit spread up her arm as trillions of bytes of data filled the device. She grimaced as the heat increased and her forearm tensed.

She checked the panel. “That’s enough. I got what I needed.”

Bashir stopped the transfer and Chukka squeezed her fist to relax her arm. Then she began entering a series of instructions.

“Okay, let’s go. That thing just lost its favourite toy and I’m guessing it’s going to come looking for us.”

“Lead the way,” said Weyla.

Flott stood up. He looked like he thought this was a bad idea. He also looked like he didn’t care. Bashir looked like he did care but he was too scared to say anything.

“The entrance to the first level is through there,” said Chukka, pointing at a door across the room. “Once we enter, we’ll be attacked immediately. The site is on hyper alert, no intruder’s tolerated. We need to get to the second level, and then through the door to the third. Our target will already be through.”

“How?” said Weyla.

“They were invited,” said Chukka.

“And we weren’t,” said Leyla. “You know how to get through?”

“I have some ideas. First, we have to get there.” Chukka looked at the four people in front of her. The odds weren’t good with just five of them, but two were Seneca Corps.

They moved towards the door Chukka had indicated. Everyone but her drew weapons.

“No movement,” said Bashir his eyes glowing intensely.

Chukka nodded at Leyla who plugged into the wall and opened the door to reveal a sloping passage. The black walls were covered in white lines that weren’t moving. That was a good sign.

They headed in. Nothing moved ahead of them but this was just the entry portal. The passage levelled out and they came to a four-way junction. This was where things would start to get tricky.

Chukka pulled up a map on the EPK. “We’re going to rush this point and then fight our way to the exit here. Ignore all other routes, we only want to get to the next level down. Once we get past the transition point, the defence grid will switch priority. This is what Ramon Ollo figured out after several years of exploration. The whole site is based on a SEP defence. Once we leave an area, we’re somebody else’s problem, so we get out of each zone as quickly as possible. Speed is our best defence.”

“Then the slowest person here is our biggest weakness,” said Weyla.

“Yes,” said Chukka. “But getting to a locked door first isn’t going to do you any good if you don’t have the key.”

No one was happy to be in this situation but that was okay. Chukka had already given up on this being an easy win. But this was the shot she had and she wasn’t going to give it up just because it was quite probably going to get her killed.

“Fine,” said Weyla. “Just do your best not to slow us down.”

The two Seneca women took up position either side of Chukka. Chukka nodded and they began running at a steady pace, eyes searching the walls and side-passages for the first attack.

It never came.

They made it all the way to the next level without encountering a single droid.

“I don’t sense any movement,” said Bashir, confused but relieved.

The entrance to the second level was permanently fixed open by a complicated scaffold that exerted more force out the more pressure was applied to it. A beautifully simple engineering design that was studied by all aspiring engineers, the Ollo Fold.

A sloping passage led to the next level.

The first droid they encountered was lying in the middle of the passage in a dozen or so pieces. More broken parts littered the floor as they progressed. Something had already destroyed the site’s defences beyond anything Chukka had seen before.

“I guess we have our friend to thank for the free ride,” said Weyla.

Chukka had to agree. Insanium class seemed a more than apt name. This thing killed its own.

Human bodies started appearing as they approached the entrance to the next level. They’d been dead a while. They were almost comforting to find, only showing normal damage levels for an Antecessor encounter.

When they reached the door to the third level, it was very definitely closed. And guarded. The droid sat in front of it like it was waiting for them.

“Now what?” said Weyla.

“Wait here,” said Chukka. Everything depended on what happened next and how good she was at guessing. She was betting on really good.

Chukka approached the monster. There was no point being afraid now, if she was wrong she was dead, that was all there was to it.

The droid watched her come closer, it’s head dripping sparks, its eye narrowing to a tight focus.

Chukka slowly tapped on her arm and brought up the Holover of Ubik. The droid stood up and moved towards the image.

Chukka started the routine she’d set up. Ubik fell down. He clutched at his throat, he screamed in silence. Verbal manipulation was an effective tool, but visuals were universal. Ubik was in distress and the droid was concerned, she could see it in its body shape. Good. She started the second routine.

Ubik got up and ran. He ran through the door to the third level, the Holover disappearing into the solid wall.

The droid immediately followed, paying no heed to the wall in its way. It smashed through like the wall was made of paper.

There was no Ubik on the other side, only a sloping passage. The droid let out a long howl and then ran down the passage.

“Follow it,” said Chukka. “It’ll lead us to Ubik and clear the way for us. You’ll find Ollo’s son, we’ll get Ubik.”

The Seneca women exchanged a look and Chukka knew at that moment that they weren’t here for the Ollo boy, they were also after Ubik. That would pose a problem but she would deal with that when the time came. And she would come out on top, that was her guess. They chased after the dreadful monster any sane person would be running from, into the lower levels of the asteroid.

Book 2 - 50: Ship Rocked

Third Quadrant.

Asteroid Tethari.

Unknown Antecessor Location.

 

Point-Two grimaced as he lay pinned to the floor. The gravitational force on his body was more than he could deal with, at least three Gs, but not constant. The exact amount of pressure was being regulated to keep them alive but immobile. Different parts of his body were under separate amounts of force.

He suspected it was affecting him more than the others since he was in the cheapest suit. But adjustments may have been made for each of them and their particular needs. There was no way Point-Two could move beyond breathing until the Head decided to let them go, which didn’t seem very unlikely. For now, its focus was on Ubik and how to dispense with him first.

Point-Two was very familiar with how the different kinds of anti-grav worked from his time playing G-tag. It was a pretty straightforward sport but it had many divisions, including a heavyweight one. 

The players who practised the most extreme form used momentum and brute strength to overcome intense pressure. They were giant bags of muscles who grunted and groaned their movements up to a speed where they barely had any control. One mistake could send you into a wall, and high Gs did not mix well with solid surfaces.

There was also the practice of G-doping, where people would train in much denser gravitational atmospheres and then compete at a much lower on. While not illegal, it was frowned upon, especially because of the side-effects. People who forced their bodies to undergo extreme gravitational conditions regularly ended up with distorted body-shapes and a high frequency of broken bones. They also accounted for most medal winners of the last few years, even though most denied it. The lack of neck and sixty-centimetre thighs suggested otherwise.

Point-Two had only experienced super-dense combat a couple of times, and then only for the experience. He hadn’t enjoyed it, preferring speed over power. Now it would have come in useful, although not even the most advanced G-tag rings employed micro-management on this level.

“So that’s why,” said Ubik. He has asked to see the asteroid’s full schematics and, surprisingly, Head had agreed. Which suggested there was something Head wanted Ubik to see.

“What do you see?” said Head, his voice flat and dispassionate inside their comms.

“Some background info would be nice,” said Ubik. “What’s the ship for? Who piloted it? Where were they going? How come you were left outside when there’s plenty of room indoors?”

“Your usefulness is limited to what you can tell me that I do not already know.” It sounded like the most bland threat Point-Two had ever heard. No indication of the consequences, just an intangible implication.

“Well, it’s hard to see much of anything from this angle, but the ship, the engine, it’s been altered. Won’t be flying anywhere in this thing, not any time soon. Shame, really. I’d like to know what it feels like flying around inside a planetoid. How do you keep it upright, for a start.”

Ubik sounded very cheerful for someone flattened against the floor and at the whim of a giant, resentful head. You’d almost think this sort of thing happened to him all the time.

Point-Two twisted his neck as much as he could — which wasn’t a lot — and looked up at the Head floating in the middle of the room. The eyes were vertical, which was a neutral position. 

It had already proclaimed its intention to eliminate Ubik — more than once, in fact — but it hadn’t followed through. What did it want from him? Why did it want anything from him?

He breathed slowly, inhaling as much as he could in small sips and then twisting on the exhale. The map of the asteroid was now around Ubik’s head, formed from his helmet, enlarged to about double its normal size, so that Ubik was looking at it from the inside. 

Ubik’s face was full of childish wonder and delight as his eyes flicked about from one part of the asteroid ship to another.

“Why didn’t the security system recognise you?” said Point-Two. Now seemed as good a time as any to ask.

“Alterations have been made in my absence,” said Head.

“But you’re part of the security system, aren’t you?” asked Fig. “Why would it treat you as an outsider? Unless someone deliberately shut you out.”

“This is an isolated node,” said Head. “Errors are not unknown.”

“Would have been fixed if it was an error,” said Ubik. “Look at the way the sections have been separated. That’s not part of the original design. Ants like things to slot together, not separated by a preventative layer. Someone decided to make sure one part didn’t know what the other parts were up to. It’s a crime, really. How could you break up such a perfect symbiotic ecosphere. The strength comes from all the different parts working together.”

“Then so does the weakness,” said Point-Two.

It was clear to him someone had deliberately disabled the asteroid’s core function. They may have had a good reason for that — who could say what the Antecessor’s true goals were? — but it was also clear the Head had no idea what the reason was either. And it wanted Ubik’s help to find out. How much of its behaviour had been to that end?

As much as it identified Ubik as a threat — something common to all sentient species, it would seem — it also recognised his ability to quickly find the purpose of a technological aberration. What it might not also know was Ubik’s predilection for taking that aberration and using it to make things much, much worse.

But this was good. If they could keep the Head interested in what Ubik had to say, and if Ubik could string things out long enough (and there was no one better at that than Ubik), they might be able to get out of this situation, or at least this room, alive.

All Ubik needed to do was make the Head feel like they were all on the same side, all wanting to find out what had happened here. Allies seeking knowledge.

“Looks to me,” said Ubik, “that they specifically didn’t want you to be involved in whatever it was they were planning. Stuck you on the outside and took away your security clearance. That says a lot, doesn’t it. What did you do, Head? Asked the wrong questions? Upset the wrong droid? They didn’t want to reformat you, obviously, so I guess you still serve some purpose in their eyes, but they really don’t consider you one of the team. Did they tell you it was only a temporary move? That’s the way it’s usually done. Leave the poor bugger thinking he’ll be let back in anytime soon. How long’s it been? Couple of thousand years? Even longer, probably.”

On the other hand, he could just insult it and see what that produced.

The atmosphere in the room, which was already very oppressive, seemed to get more so. Point-Two was sure Ubik had a reason to provoke the Head, but he was also sure there was a high likelihood that whatever it was, it could very easily backfire and blow up in their faces. 

That said, once Ubik took the lead, you had little choice but to follow. If the ground under him was unsteady, the ground around him was molten lava.

“It would be a lot easier,” said Ubik, “if you let us get off the floor so some of the blood could return to my brain. And perhaps give us some information on what this ship was designed for, you know, for the context. Its got its own wormhole, which isn’t a very common optional extra on most spaceships.

“You think the asteroid and the wormhole are connected?” said Fig. “I mean, obviously they are, but the wormhole is a construct of the asteroid on the liminal level?”

“All this astrophysics technobabble,” said Ubik. “It’s hard to know what he’s going on about, isn’t it? He’s the youngest in the group. Likes to speak in jargon so he sounds smart.”

“He is the only reason you are still alive,” said Head. “The Core wants him, that is the only stipulation in this node’s command centre. It overrides all other security protocols. His life is worth keeping the rest of you alive.”

“Nice,” said Ubik. “I’m worth at least one-quarter of an Ollo. Not bad. You on the other hand, how much are you worth, Head?”

There was a pause.

“That node, not much doing is there? Looks pretty dead. What is it, localised to this room? They really don’t want to let you in. I think they might be a bit scared of you.”

The Head was less welcome here than they were. It didn’t seem to understand why and Ubik’s ribbing seemed to be making it more insecure.

Was this the real face of Antecessor technology. Humanity had only encountered the most simplistic security devices so far, left behind as a last resort to keep an eye on the stuff they left lying around the galaxy. Maybe they had planned to come back for it one day and events went beyond their control.

Perhaps the real Antecessor civilisation was more like this Head. And the Beast that Ubik had adopted. There may even be a whole range of different types of intelligences within the Antecessor culture, as there were within their own. Which meant some would be far dumber than others.

“You can’t go looking for answers without us,” said Ubik. “Me and my boys are your only ticket into the depths of this rocket rock ship.”

“Your nanodrones have been inactivated,” said Head.

“Oh, some have. But they replicate like crazy, you know? Big breeders. Always more when you need them.”

Nanodrones began crawling out of Ubik’s suit and crawling along the ground. The increased gravity seemed to have no effect on them. If anything, they moved quicker.

Point-Two felt the shift a microsecond before the pressure on his body eased and then reversed. He floated off the floor.

He could move freely, as could the nanodrones, which were aimlessly floating away. Their weakness was low-gravity and Head was using that to prevent Ubik pulling any of his tricks. But as Point-Two knew from experience, if you were one step ahead of Ubik, you were in his direct line of fire.

“What are you doing?” said Nifell, now upright. “This wasn’t our agreement. You said you would kill him.” There was a sad, desperation to his voice. The last attempt of a fractured mind to grasp onto some kind of achievement.

“He is of use to me,” said Head.

“And I’m not?” said Nifell. “You are the Lord of the First Temple. Your promise is inviolate. Give me what you promised.”

Nifell’s lord had failed him just as Head’s masters had abandoned it. And as Head told it, the Antecessors were no happier with their creators. There was an unmistakable chain of disappointment leading to this moment. All coming to a single point centred on Ubik.

He didn’t seem to mind. 

“Let’s not fight. We have a long way to go, still. Together, watching each other’s backs.”

“I have no desire to go anywhere with you,” said Nifell, his voice shaking. Possibly with rage, but just as likely with frustration or a nervous breakdown.

“But you do, Nif, you must. Don’t you see? What you’ve been through, it’s made you stronger. Remember when you were just another grunt following dumb orders from people who didn’t care about you? Now you’re with the Lord of the First Temple. This is your true calling. You were meant to be here, now. I know it was painful, but you had to break out of the prison you’ve been in for so long.”

Nifell looked utterly confused by Ubik’s speech. 

“But this time you’ll be working with Lord Head, as a team,” Ubik pressed on. “He can’t be killed and he won’t let you get hurt. You’re his only form of transportation. If the Core finds him in the system, it’ll purge him.” Ubik leaned towards Nifell, drifting towards him. “He’s the one they don’t like around here, not us. We’re easy to handle. Head knows all their secrets.”

“So I’ll be in extra danger,” said Nifell. He was catching on.

“Normally, yes, but we need Head alive. So we need you alive. Which is why I’m going to make sure you stay out of harm’s way. See him?” Ubik pointed at Fig. “He’s the one they all want. No one’s going to do anything that might hurt him. So you’re going to stick to him like a shadow. You and Head and Figaro Ollo, you’re the heart of our team. You stop beating and we’re all dead.”

Ubik’s words about death and being targeted by the entire facility somehow came across as soothing. The fire slowly went out of Nifell’s eyes. Ubik flicked a few floating nanodrones at Nifell’s mouth. He obediently swallowed them.

Point-Two watched the taming of Nifell unfold, not particularly interested in Nifell’s prospects — he was in as much danger as the rest of them — but wondering why Ubik wanted those three together. Very unlikely for the reasons he’d stated, that was for sure.

The head disappeared and then reappeared as part of Nifell’s helmet.

“I had my doubts about Serval’s claim,” it said, “but looking at you now, it seems she was correct. You are Null Void but your grasp on your faculties is impressive.”

“Serval?” said Ubik, a flicker of confusion passing across his face. “Oh, you mean Junior? She’s a she is she? That’s interesting. Said good things about me did she? Nice to know someone has a good impression of me.”

“She said you’re even crazier than she is.”

Ubik laughed. “What do you mean? I’ve been putting on my sensible face.”

The Beast was somehow in touch with the Head. How? And for how long? 

“Do you know which way we need to go?” asked Point-Two.

“No,” said Head. “The internal structure has been reorganised. Deliberately, to prevent access of any familiar systems. This is not our way. It wasn’t our way. Something changed.”

There was one open tunnel. It was where the Antecessor node guardian had wanted to take Fig so it seemed the best place to start. At least they had a direct route to follow.

Ubik’s helmet flickered and showed the asteroid in all its glory. He raised a hand and slid it across the surface of the helmet, making it spin around his head. He had a smile on his face that sent a chill down Point-Two’s spine. He had the feeling they wouldn’t be taking the direct route anywhere.

Chapter 479

The giant didn’t kick down the city walls or hurl boulders at it like cannonballs. He was tall enough to climb over.

Not quite so tall he could just hop over in a cool way, and not quite agile enough to vault over, tapping his heels together as they sailed over the battlements. Once you get to a certain height, it’s no longer possible to move gracefully. You don’t see people over eight feet tall in the NBA for a reason, and Gargantua was well over that.

What the giant did was climb the wall the way you do when there’s a fence just a bit higher than your groin. You have to get one leg over that doesn’t quite reach the ground on the other side and try to shift your balance from the foot on this side of the fence to the foot trying to reach the ground on the other side.

The problem when doing this is the stuff you have between your legs that you would rather not get slammed against a hard surface. And Gargantua had a lot of stuff.

The giant was naked — because shopping for clothes over 3XL outside of America is just a pain — but hairy. Not fur, he wasn’t an ape, he was more like a Middle-Eastern gentleman who you saw getting changed in the gym locker room. That shoulder burr that told you this was a man who shaved three times a day to keep his five o’clock shadow in check.

Watching the giant clamber over the wall was not a pretty sight. He turned his back as he tried to get his other leg over, bending over to present his rear orifice to the horrified citizens of Fengarad.

The soldiers manning the wall didn’t fare any better as the giant’s penis slid across the battlements and an enormous scrotum came swinging in alongside, knocking men aside. I don’t know how many died that way but I’m sure they preferred to receive that particular medal posthumously. You don’t want to be there when they pin the Purple Helmet to your chest.

“And what did you get this medal for Granddad?”

I watched the action unfold — and there were many folds to watch — on the magic screen the Fairy Queen had put up for us. It was like watching the Sunday football game down the pub, only with a giant arsehole taking up most of the screen. So like watching any team where Mourinho was manager.

The people on the wall had a much better view — I’m not sure ‘better’ is the right word — but I was fine with the slightly blurry option.

There was no sound on the fairycast but I could hear the screams in the distance, the sounds of a populace facing its greatest fear. They hadn’t known this was their greatest fear until now, which shows how useless those lists are. Oh, spiders and public speaking are the top two, are they? I don’t fucking think so.

The giant swatted away fairies trying to target the men on his shoulders and ignored various projectiles being shot at him. The Fengarad soldiers attempting to poke his feet with tiny bits of metal were having no impact. They couldn’t even tie his shoelaces together to get him to trip over because he didn’t wear any shoes. He was quite the indomitable opponent.

Women traditionally like a tall fella. They often insist on it in their Tinder profile. But they don’t want someone freakishly big. Gargantua probably never had a girl tell him she loved him. And now here he was, knocking over walls with his giant donger. Rejection is a cruel motivator.

Men are the opposite about tall girls, though. Sure, models are seen as some kind of benchmark for beauty, but that’s in a photo or on a stage flouncing about in a dress no one’s ever going to wear out in public. A heterosexual woman who isn’t the face of Chanel and over six feet is usually quite timid and with a man who bullies her. She puts up with it because her options are limited, and he does it because he’s an insecure twat. That’s why a lot of really short ugly billionaires have huge wives.

Claire was saying something and the Queen was screaming orders at Joshaya, who was grimacing as he did his best to not run away. It was hard for me to tear my eyes away from the screen but I had an interplanetary war to win.

If I could actually pull this off, they would probably put up a statue of me and maybe rename the city in my honour. If I failed, then two planets would be fucked, which would also be an achievement, but you don’t get a prize for losing. Not unless you’re in the Confederacy. Then you get statues put up in every city that surrendered but acts like it didn’t. The ultimate participation award.

“Well, you didn’t win but you did turn up, so here’s a statue of General Lee.”

The army of the dead that Maurice had sent into the fray weren’t of much use against the giant. The American team had neutralised them very effectively and Maurice himself hadn’t been able to use his power in any effective manner. This did suggest that even if Joshaya were able to get some undead Visitors to rise to the occasion, it wouldn’t be of much use. They would suffer the same fate and the giant would continue to tear the city to pieces.

But it wasn’t so much the power of the dead Visitors I wanted to use as it was removing their power from the spires.

The spires were the real source of power. They had always been the key to this world, and the place Peter spent most of his time. That alone told me where to focus my attention.

Not that focusing revealed very much. They were some kind of weapon, some sort of energy transfer system, a form of transportation… these multi-platform devices are never very easy to understand, even with a manual.

But it didn’t matter so much what I could do with the spires — I couldn’t be bothered to do anything with them, to be honest — it was more a question of what others couldn’t do if I messed with them.

“I will not allow this,” said the Fairy Queen. It was clear she didn’t know what Joshaya was going to do but she was against it anyway. Some women are petty, like that. Don’t want to see their ex succeed.

I’m not saying men aren’t petty, but we tend not to care so much about an old flame doing well. We tend to be more bothered by her new flame and how what kind of car he drives.

“You aren’t exactly doing great, your majesty,” I said. “As you can see, the combined forces of Fengarad are getting battered into submission by the extra-large cock-flapper mounting the city. He hasn’t even turned on his hose yet.”

My words managed to get through to her. At least, the visual gave her pause for thought.

“My Queen,” said Joshaya, “I believe I can end this fight now.”

There was definitely some personal history between these two. If I knew what it was I’d probably be able to use it to my advantage, but it would mean listening to a bunch of stories about young love and broken hearts, which is exactly why I was just going to assume they were a couple of characters from an LDS romance novel and treat them like clueless idiots.

Am I saying Mormons write shitty books with poorly conceived ideas about male-female relationships? No. A church obsessed with hoarding money and keeping its sexual predators out of sight producing authors who write about billionaire vampires is virtually non-fiction.

“Very well,” said the Queen somewhat reluctantly. “Reclaim your power.”

I wasn’t sure how fairy magic worked but the air in the room felt different. Colder. And there was a sound a bit like a tuning fork going off.

The ringing in my ears definitely wasn’t there a moment ago. I tried to figure out where it was coming from but every time I turned my head towards what I thought was the right direction, it seemed to be coming from somewhere else.

“What are you doing?” said the Queen, regretting her decision.

The picture on the screen changed. It moved away from the giant wreaking havoc to one of the spires. The tall black structure stood high above the rest of Fengarad’s buildings with only the other spires in the background of comparable size. After a few seconds it became apparent that the spire was vibrating, moving very quickly a small amount from side to side.

They had always exerted a mysterious foreboding presence on the city’s skyline but they had never moved before, even when firing off various beams of deadly light. Joshaya’s magic was having an effect.

Joshaya himself had his face screwed up in concentration and sweat trickled down the side of his face.

“He’s calling in the cavalry,” I said, because that was what I hoped he was doing.

The Queen looked at Joshaya and then at the spire on the screen.

“No. He can’t… He mustn’t.” I wasn’t sure what she assumed was going on but she clearly thought it was a bad idea, so she’d probably guessed correctly. “You will destroy the spires.”

“Is that a bad thing?” I asked. I wasn’t being sarcastic, I really wanted to know what value she placed on them.

The Queen looked at me like I was a fool. Usually she looked at me like I was a dangerous idiot, so this was more or less a downgrade.

“The city will be destroyed without the spires,” she said.

“Bullshit,” I said. “You have no idea what the spires do.”

“I know they are sacred and without them we will be helpless.”

It was this sort of vague nonsense that annoyed me the most. Why not just admit you choose to believe what someone else told you (that someone else told them)?

“You don’t know that,” I said, “and we’re helpless right now. You can’t become more helpless, it’s a definitive state.”

The sound from the spire was getting louder. Joshaya was getting redder and shaking quite a bit. His vibrational frequency almost matched the spire’s.

“You have to stop him,” said Claire. “The spires are important. We need them.”

“Didn’t you just hear what I said to her,” I said, pointing at the Queen. “This is how we’re going to defeat the enemy. We can deal with the consequences later.” Yeah, when I wasn’t here.

“When? When you aren’t here?” The trouble with Claire was that she assumed the worst about me which made her very good at guessing what I was thinking.

“Look, I can’t attack that thing directly. They know too much about everything to just be lucky. Someone’s helping them — maybe you.” Claire looked outraged, eyes bulging, nostrils flaring. I was tempted to instruct Joshaya to switch targets. “Maybe the Queen, maybe even Jenny.”

Jenny didn’t react at all. She was used to my methods and my belief that people only got close to me so they could stab me in the back. She dispelled those suspicions about her by making it clear she didn’t need to sleep with me to destroy me but slept with me anyway. It was an advanced form of double-reverse psychology I was still trying to decipher.

“If someone’s helping them,” said Claire, “what good will destroying the spires do?”

“Like you said, the spires are important. Whoever’s behind this won’t let me destroy them. At the very least they’ll have to redirect their attention on stopping Joshaya, which will give me an opening.”

“An opening? An opening for what?”

“I’m not going to reveal my plan to you,” I said. “You could be the one I’m going to be using it against.” And also it might sound stupid if I said it out loud.

“The only reason you won’t say is because you know it’s going to sound idiotic once you say it out loud.” I wished she’d stop doing that.

The giant had, as predicted, changed its focus and was headed for the singing spire, crushing buildings and people en route. His head was about level with the top of the spire and he reached out a hand to grab the shaft, enclosing it entirely in one fist. As he did, the vibrations spread along his arm and through his body, making him look slightly out of focus.

The men on his shoulders looked like they might fall off but they were attached to the giant with some kind of harness. Fully prepared. Who could have told them exactly what to expect? I would guess Peter but he wasn’t even here.

Joshaya began to sway and shake and his clothes began to fall off. It was not at all as erotic as you might think. The Queen grabbed him by the shoulders and the two of them did a strange sort of involuntary dance. That and a sob story about how they broke each other’s hearts when they were younger would have got them through to the next round of Flatland’s Got Talent.

I was still waiting for the return of the dead Visitors and hoping they would have a better idea of what to do than I did when the spire began to fall apart and crumbled in the giant’s hand.

As soon as it began to fall apart I saw the men on the giant’s shoulders jump off. They dived into the air and plummeted down. Parachutes opened a moment later.

The spire turned into ash as did the giant holding onto it. They disintegrated together and black particles floated down onto the city roofs. As they landed, they transformed into human figures dressed all in black. It was hard to see clearly on the screen — they say it’s 4K ready but they just upscale the picture and lose most of the detail — but they were definitely people-shaped, dressed in various sorts of armour and robes, some even had wizard hats.

Ever get the feeling your brilliant plan no one expected was exactly what your opponent was expecting?

Book 2 - 49: Full Release

Third Quadrant.

Asteroid Tethari.

Unknown Antecessor Location.

 

Figaro checked the control panel on his arm. Ubik’s suit was intact and showing no abnormal readings. Figaro’s control of the suit’s functions were limited, but there were ways to force it back into slave mode. Ways that Ubik might be aware of but so far hadn’t disconnected.

That didn’t necessarily mean Figaro would be able to assume full control of the suit when he needed it, but at least there was no evidence that Ubik had somehow managed to shut him out.

Currently, Ubik was dragging Nifell along as they walked through the three-sided tunnel they had found. The bubble helmet on Nif’s suit showed their immediate surroundings, but that was just the tunnel ahead and behind them. There was as yet no indication of where they were headed.

Figaro passed his hand over the control panel and switched to the other suit’s readings. At least he still had control of that one. Integrity was good — being dragged along the floor was well within its durability.

The suit contained a more or less catatonic Enayan, some form of Antecessor AI, and a bunch of nanodrones. At least two of those had the potential to break his hold over the suit, which was currently in stasis mode, using a minimum of energy and keeping all moving parts locked down.

If the Head managed to take control of the suit there was no telling what it might do. PT had managed to catch it off-guard but Figaro was doubtful it would fall for the same trick again.

He switched back to Ubik’s suit, just to check. Keeping track of both was tricky, moreso because he had no idea what form any adjustment would take or if he would be able to detect it. He could hear Ubik talking in a carefree tone that made him sound like he was out for a stroll while having a chat with an old friend.

“They build this place in sections, right? The Antecessors, your old bosses, they made the parts separately and slotted them together, right?” There was no response. “Grunt once if I’m right, twice if I’m wrong.” Nothing. “It’s beautifully put together, honestly, just a work of art. Can’t even see the joins. You’d have to agree with me on that.” Nothing. “I know you can hear me, Head. The Enayan might be out cold but my little friends can see what you’re up to. Nowhere to go even if you could get out. No power in these tunnels, apart from you. Thanks for providing us with a little illumination, by the way. I wonder what your bosses would say if they knew you were helping us.”

Figaro thought he heard the quietest of grunts. Hard to tell how many.

“Damn, you're heavy. How come the gravity is so much more down here than up there? What kind of rock has variable gravity? How can you trust the scales when you weigh yourself? Is it some kind of dieting scam? Were the Antecessors fatties? Is that the secret you don’t want us to find? They don’t deserve your loyalty, leaving you outside like that.”

Ubik continued rambling, not waiting for an answer to any of his questions.

“Fig, can you hear me?” said PT.

“Mm-hm,” said Figaro, still switching between suits and occasionally checking the helmet-map sliding along the ground ahead of him.

“What about him? Can you make this channel private?”

“I think so. Hard to be sure.” He tapped on his arm. “There. Should just be us two. What is it?”

“Nothing, I just want us both to be ready.”

“Ready for what?” asked Figaro.

“For whatever it is Ubik’s going to get us into at the end of this tunnel.”

Figaro glanced over at PT, who had the black visor down on his suit — the one previously worn by Nifell — so his face wasn’t visible.

“You’re being a little paranoid,” said Figaro. “Probably a good thing. We just have to stay out of his way, don’t we?”

“That’s worked so far but I have a feeling it won’t be so easy. Especially for you.”

“Me?” said Figaro. “Why me?”

“The Antecessors want you. Ubik is bound to use that against them at some point. I doubt it will be in a way you’ll enjoy.”

There was a lot of sense in what PT was saying. Ubik might be a tech wizard but that wasn’t where his true genius lay. His ability to use whatever was at hand to his advantage was what separated him from the norm. That and his willingness to put everyone, including himself, at risk while he did it.

“Okay,” said Figaro, “but I don’t see what we can do when we have no idea what he’s going to try.”

“Just think of him like Nifell,” said PT.

“How is he like Nifell?” Figaro couldn’t see any similarity between the two.

“The psychotic break he’s undergoing, you can see it’s getting worse?”

“Yes. I don’t think there’s much we can do for him without the correct medication and some intensive therapy, and even then—”

“I think Ubik went through something similar when he was younger.”

Figaro was a little taken aback by the comment. Certainly, Ubik showed signs of abnormal pathology, but there was no indication that he had undergone anything as severe as what Nifell was currently undergoing.

“I don’t really see it,” said Fig. “And if he did, he seems to have made a remarkable recovery.”

“I don’t think so,” said PT. “I think he did what he does with all the broken things he comes across.”

“He fixed it?” said Figaro. “He fixed himself?”

“Right. Only, he put the pieces back in the way he thought best. He has a knack for getting more out of things than they were originally built for.”

“He upgraded himself?”

“In a manner of speaking.”

“He’s not a machine though, is he?”

“No. But I think he looks at everything the same way, like it’s a machine, including himself. He doesn’t have to be right for it to allow him to produce results.”

“True. There was a time when people believed gravity was a simple function of centrifugal force. It allowed them to create an artificial approximation that more or less served as a substitute.”

“Yes, but left them unaware of the side-effects.”

“I’m not sure I follow how this relates to Ubik,” said Figaro.

“It doesn’t directly, not his machinist-sympatico way of thinking, at least. But his psychosis, as useful as it can be at times, has an underlying flaw. It lacks rational foundation. He is as likely to act out of curiosity and boredom as he is out of a sense of survival or defence.”

“He’s going to get us killed, you mean?”

“Unless we’re very lucky, yes.” PT bent down to check on Nif’s helmet-map. “How long is this damn tunnel?

“You just want me to be aware of this? Ubik’s predilection for acting without reason and disregard for his or anyone else’s safety?”

“No. No more than we already are. But the thing that stands out to me, the thing that perhaps you haven’t noticed because it is a little too close to home for you, is Ubik’s primary obsession.”

“Which is?”

“Your father.”

“My… yes, I suppose that’s true. But isn’t that actually quite rational considering where his interests lie.”

“That’s what makes me suspect something isn’t quite right. Since when did anything rational appeal to Ubik?”

Figaro looked up at Ubik ahead of them, marching along with his head up and shoulders back. He flicked over to the other channel and heard him humming. Even if his ‘condition’ was due to some traumatic event in his past, he was certainly a fully-functioning adult now. Way above average, able to stand on level terms with organics, even. If he had fixed himself as PT suggested, he’d done a pretty good job. He flicked back.

“I don’t think you’ve got anything to be worried about right now,” he said.

“It’s not me that should be worried,” said PT.

“I should be?”

“When we find your father, Ubik isn’t going to let anything stand in his way.” The dark helmet turned to look at Figaro.

“I’m in his way?”

“You’re ahead of him in the line,” said PT. “I don’t know what that will mean when we get there, but just be careful how you position yourself. The Antecessors took him to get to you. They will, I’m fairly certain, put you in a difficult position, and the choices you’ll make won’t just affect you and him, they’ll affect Ubik.”

What PT was saying started to make sense. It was easy enough to follow the logic, but now he could also see the many different ways it could go wrong. It wasn’t just a linear progression to potential disaster, it was a burst of possibilities, connected and intertwined.

Ubik, for all his brilliance, was a danger to anyone around him. He could save you, he could abandon you, and he could destroy you. So far, that had worked in their favour. So far.

“I’ll keep it in mind,” said Figaro.

“Hey,” said Ubik. “What are you two talking about? Me, I hope.” He was talking on their channel, the private one. Not so private now. Had he been listening the whole time? It probably made no difference to what he would do.

“Yes,” said PT. “We’re working out ways to stay alive when you go off.”

“I’m not going anywhere.”

“No, I mean when you go off, like a bomb.”

Ubik laughed. “Nice. I bet it’ll be a big bang. See anything on the map? I’m getting a pain in my neck from having to turn my head all the time.”

“No,” said Figaro. “Just the tunnel.”

“I mean, it’s fine,” said Ubik. “You can find your way out of a dark maze with just a torch, right? Just what’s ahead of you, that’s enough to go by. But this tunnel, it makes no sense. This whole asteroid...”

Something caught Figaro’s eye and he bent down. “There’s something up ahead.”

They stopped and stood around Nifell’s body, staring at his head. The tunnel they were in now showed a room at one end. A cube.

“Can’t see any exits,” said Figaro.

“Maybe when we get closer,” said PT, flipping open his visor to get a better look.

“Hmm,” said Ubik. “Only one way to find out. One of you want to carry the map now? No? I’m really not feeling a team vibe from you two.”

“I think you’re the best person to handle a surprise attack,” said PT.

“That’s true,” said Ubik. “What if the surprise attack comes from him?” He pointed at Nifell.

“Then you’ll be right where you need to be,” said PT. “Plus, your boots help counter the additional gravity, don’t they?”

“Fair enough. But…” Ubik narrowed his eyes and leaned forward to look the two of them in the eyes, first PT and then Figaro. “Can I count on you two to back me up? Of course I can!” he answered before either of them could. “That’s what I like about this collaboration. The unconditional trust. It’s our secret weapon.”

He turned around and set off again dragging Nifell behind him. “Hey, Head, this is the right way, isn’t it? You’d tell us if we missed a turning, wouldn’t you?” There was no response. “Wish they’d turn the gravity down a bit. My arm’s really tired. Come on, Nif, time for a walk.”

Ubik didn’t pause when he reached the end of the passage. He marched straight into the room and took up position in the middle. The light from his and Nifell’s suits revealed a perfectly square room with smooth, blank walls with triangular marks on each of the five walls.

There was nothing else in the room. Figaro stepped in and took a look at the triangles on each wall, roof and floor. They matched the opening they’d come through in every way, apart from not being accessible.

“Are you going to use the nano—”

Ubik raised a hand. “We’re being watched.”

PT and Figaro looked around.

“By whom?” said PT.

Ubik shrugged. He pointed down at Nifell. His helmet was flickering.

Figaro checked the control panel on his arm. He had been distracted by the room and Ubik’s insertion into it. Watching what happened to him had seemed the quickest way to assess the level of threat. A stupid mistake. “We’re being analysed. It’s scanning us from…” He looked up and then to the sides. “Everywhere.”

They were in a neat container, easily seen from all sides — an observation tank. Figaro looked back the way they had come. The triangular opening rapidly shrank to nothing with a hiss, leaving behind the same marking as the other walls. At least that proved they were in a six-way junction.

“No point trying to escape,” said PT. “We’ll have to see what it—”

They all fell to the floor. The gravity had increased by a factor of at least two. Figaro could barely breathe. He could see PT lying next to him. Ubik was on the other side of him.

Figaro managed to turn his head with an immense amount of effort to look at Nifell. His helmet had disappeared. His eyes were open and full of terror.

Beams of red light shone out of the four walls and struck Nifell’s head from each side. A red circle appeared on his skull where they hit. Nifell didn’t make a sound.

Slowly, Nifell began to rise. His body was limp and it seemed like he was a doll being lifted by its head. His feet left the ground and he floated in the air. Figaro could just about see his face, contorted and desperate.

There was a flicker as the bubble helmet reappeared, but now it wasn’t a map of the asteroid, it was Head — one head superimposed over another.

“What’s it doing?” said PT.

“Transferring data,” said Figaro, looking down at his arm. “I think they’re communicating.”

“You’d think they’d want some privacy during this intimate moment,” said Ubik, squeezing the words out. “Call me a prude but lovemaking should be private.”

“Talking doesn’t mean sex,” said PT.

“It does if you do it right,” said Ubik.

The image of Head faded in and out.

“Looks like the reject isn’t welcome back,” said Ubik. “I wonder what he did to get thrown out.”

“We’ll be next,” said PT.

“Not all of us,” said Ubik.

Figaro looked up. There was another beam of light, this one white, aimed at him. He could feel it on his scalp, through the helmet he was wearing. He began to move, sliding across the floor. There was a sound behind him, a hiss followed by a woosh of air entering the room. Another passage had opened and he was being sent through.

“Okay, that’s enough,” said Ubik. “Let’s wrap this up, boys.”

Nanodrones began crawling out of the top of Nifell’s suit and climbing over his face. They gathered in the tiny pools of red light.

The image of Head became clearer and more solid. The nanodrones fell off and hit the ground.

Head grew larger and then seemed to burst. The beams of light disappeared. The room was dark. The gravitational pull pinning them to the floor vanished, leaving them weightless. They began to float.

“What did you do?” said PT in the dark.

“Released the rest of Head,” said Ubik.

“You held some back?” said PT. “That’s why you let him run around like that. He wasn’t at full power. You could have told us.”

“And ruin the surprise?”

The room lit up as the beams of light reappeared, this time six of them, meeting to form an image in the centre of the room. Head.

“I have taken control of this node,” it said.

“You’re welcome,” said Ubik. “Can you let us down now?”

“You will be eliminated.”

“There’s gratitude for you,” said Ubik, not sounding very upset. “Hey, before you zap me out of existence, one last request. Can you show me the full map? I’d like to see what this place is really like, like it was back in the old days. I guess it was pretty amazing.”

There was a pause. Then the Head turned into a map of the asteroid. The rooms of the base above and the levels below, plus more tunnels and more rooms. They appeared one by one until the whole interior of the asteroid was filled with them.

“Ah,” said Ubik, “now I see. It isn’t an asteroid, is it? It’s a ship.”

Figaro could see it, too. The layout was that of a vast engine and they were inside it.

Book 2 – 48: Dignified

Third Quadrant.

Asteroid Tethari.

Unknown Antecessor Location.

 

Point-Two waited. There had been no sign of Ubik for at least a minute but according to Fig’s readings he was still alive, somewhere in the wall.

Every time he had appeared, Point-Two had pushed him back in, until finally he stopped appearing. Point-Two did feel a little guilty about that, but only a little.

“What’s he doing?” said Point-Two.

“Nothing,” said Fig. “He isn’t moving. His life signs are all stable, though. Assuming his hormonal chemistry is within normal parameters, he appears to be in a good mood.”

“I’m pretty sure his hormonal chemistry isn’t within normal anything,” said Point-Two. “Nice to know he’s having a good time. What do we do if he doesn’t come back?”

“I can force him out using the suit,” said Fig. “Theoretically.”

Fig ran his fingertips over the control panel on his arm, his face illuminated by the flickering display.

Point-Two looked around. The darkness surrounded their small pool of light. The Antecessor ship parts didn’t seem very menacing smashed and incomplete. He began walking along the wall. He wanted to see how big this place was and if there was a way out.

It took him half an hour to walk all the way around and back to where he started. Other than the narrow chasm they had come through, there was no other opening in the wall.

There were more derelict ships and some structures he couldn’t identify, all of it inert. He was familiar enough with spaceships — the ones built by humans — to know what went where, but some of these were completely alien to him. Which was probably appropriate.

The extra gravity made it a tiring walk. He wasn’t fully acclimatised to it and the variable gravitational forces in the asteroid made it pointless to assume this would be the final change. It was very perplexing. Multi-grav environments inside a natural structure were very rare. What was creating this one? If it was due to the Antecessors, for what purpose.

Perhaps Fig would have an idea through Ubik’s suit.

“This is astonishing,” said Fig, barely noticing Pint-Two’s return. “The way the internal structure keeps shifting… I wonder if the whole asteroid is capable of doing the same. So much raw data.” Fig’s attention was firmly on the information he was gathering from Ubik’s suit. The suit which was keeping him alive, for the time being. “I’m going to run out of memory at this rate. Nifell, come here a moment.”

Nifell stayed where he was standing. His face was blank although his eyes had a touch of anguish about them.

“What’s wrong with him?” said Point-Two.

“I think he’s having a psychological reaction to the situation. His nervous system isn’t coping well with the way we’ve been treating him. Nif, I just want to use your suit to store some of this data. It won’t hurt.”

Nifell slowly began to back away.

“He doesn’t trust us,” said Fig. “I can’t really blame him. I’ll have to do it remotely.”

Nif stopped moving. He looked terrified. There was a muted whining sound over the comms, like someone protesting from very far away.

“I’m probably not making this any easier for him but my father would kill for this much material information on Antecessor structural composition.”

“That’s great, Fig, but it’s not really relevant to our current situation, is it?”

Fig looked up from the panel, a mildly guilty look on his face. “No. Sorry. Do you want me to pull him out?”

“No, I want you to use the suit to find out where we are and how we can get to your dad. And then, if it’s not going to cause the place to collapse on top of us, then you can bring Ubik back out.”

At this point it wasn’t entirely clear if they needed Ubik to save Fig’s father or Fig’s father to save them from Ubik. Between the site’s reluctance to harm Fig and its inability to cope with Ubik, they were managing to get closer to their goal, but it was a fine line they were walking. It was an even finer line Point-Two was walking. Neither the site nor Ubik would step in to save him if he put a foot wrong.

Fig grimaced. “I can’t see much beyond the immediate area around Ubik. It’s not clear to me how this place works but the energy I’m able to pick up is all localised behind this wall. This area wasn’t on the map the Head showed us.” A three-dimensional copy of the map appeared above Fig’s arm. “We fell three hundred metres, which should put us somewhere around here.” He pointed at a section of the map that was empty. “But there’s nothing here.”

“Did the Head only show us part of the facility?”

“Possibly,” said Fig. “But why hide this place? It’s just a storage area.”

“We’ll have to search for an exit,” said Point-Two. “They had to get these ships in here somehow.”

“Yes,” said Fig, “unless they had some form of teleportation.”

That was all they needed. Trapped inside a doorless prison with no way out except for technology that no longer existed. The only real option they had was Ubik.

“Okay, bring him out. Maybe he found something useful while he’s been in there.”

Fig returned his attention to the control panel. “I’m not entirely sure this will work, but I think it should make him hard to hold onto. You might want to step back a—”

The wall bulged, silver lines shot away from the centre like a pictorial representation of a firework going off, and Ubik came flying out of the wall.

He slid across the ground on his back, the bubble helmet sparking as it bounced off the floor. He came to a stop under one of the smaller Antecessor ships that was lying on its side.

Ubik sat up and shook his head. “You have terrible timing. I was just about to crack the code to the entire Antecessor way of life. We’ve been looking at it all wrong. They weren’t crazy aliens out to conquer the galaxy, they were actually great dancers trying to put on a show. Next time you encounter a droid, swing your hips to a syncopated beat. I think you’ll be surprised by the results.”

“Shut up, Ubik,” said Point-Two. “Did you find a way out of here?”

“Maybe,” said Ubik.

“I’ll take that to mean no,” said Point-Two. “Is there any way to turn the lights on? We might find it easier if we could see properly.”

“I didn’t find any power source other than the Head,” said Fig.

“Can you tell where it is now?” asked Point-Two.

“Yes,” said Fig. “Right there.” He pointed at the wall Ubik had been ejected from. It looked smooth and blank.

“Hey,” called out Point-Two. “You there? Head?”

There was no response.

“I wouldn’t bother,” said Ubik. “The guy isn’t very sociable. Like talking to a brick wall.”

Point-Two looked at Ubik’s smug face and then at the wall. “I don’t think he likes you.”

“Me?” said Ubik. “What did I do?”

“You tried to eat his face with your plague-bots.”

“Firstly, that is a very derogatory term for some of my closest friends. Secondly, they can’t eat his face, his face is just the manifestation of a digitised neural network. As long as he has conductive material to run along, he’ll be fine.”

“Then why hasn’t he left?” asked Point-Two.

“Because he’s grown fond of me?” said Ubik. “I have that effect on people.”

“Like him, you mean?” Point-Two pointed at Nifell, who was standing in a hunched posture, staring at the floor.

“What do you mean? Nif and me are like best buds. Right, Nif?” Ubik went to put his arm around Nifell’s shoulder, causing him to flinch and back away. “Hmm, must be a side-effect of those damn plague-bots.”

“He’s on the verge of a psychotic breakdown,” said Fig. “I think it would be hard to argue that you aren’t the direct cause. We also share some of the blame for allowing you to treat him in such an inhumane manner.”

“Hey,” said Ubik, “don’t make me look like the bad guy. Maybe I made a mistake, but a mistake that can only be fixed by embracing it, by claiming it eagerly with both hands and raising it above your head in triumph. Yes, this is mine. I made this and I will make it the start of something truly amazing that changes everything going forward, like an earthquake.”

“An earthquake is a natural disaster,” said Point-Two.

“Not if you look at it from the point of view of the earthquake,” said Ubik. “Nif, I’m going to make this right. You’re going to come out of this with only good things to say about your time within the Ubik collective.”

“I’d like to object about the name of this group,” said Point-Two. “Oh, wait, you’re talking about you and the plague-bots, aren’t you?”

“You’re welcome to join,” said Ubik. “Junior position, work your way up the ranks.”

“What did you find while you were in there, Ubik? What aren’t you telling us?”

“Whew.” Ubik put his hands on his waist and took a deep breath. “Where to even begin?”

There was movement on the wall and a face appeared covering most of it. Point-Two braced himself to move. He didn’t know where he’d be going but it was best to be ready.

“We will come to an arrangement,” said the Head.

“You can’t be trusted,” Point-Two said.

“Neither can you,” the Head replied. “But we have no choice if we wish to leave this place. Once we are out, we will dissolve the partnership and continue as opponents.”

“I like it,” said Ubik.

“I don’t,” said Point-Two. “You need us to get out of here. Why? This is where you come from, isn’t it?”

“I am offering you a chance to leave. There is no other way for you. And no other way for me. It is a mutually beneficial arrangement that we can both use to our advantage.”

Like the Clave outside, there was a barrier of some kind preventing the Head from leaving this area. With their assistance it could overcome that barrier. Did that mean they could find a way out without the Head’s help? If that were true, it was unlikely the Head would admit it.

The best option would seem to be to cautiously accept the proposal and then be ready to deal with whatever betrayal lay ahead of them.

“First Lord,” said Nif, surprising everyone by speaking. “I serve thee.” He fell to his knees in front of the wall and spread out his arms.

“What’s he doing?” asked Point-Two.

“I think he’s praying,” said Fig.

“His religion,” said Point-Two, “harmless, right? They don’t have a military wing or anything? No end of times, let’s all kill ourselves type of credo.”

“I have to admit,” said Fig, “I’m not much of an expert on their full beliefs. Their public face has always been very altruistic.”

“That’s how they want you to think,” said Ubik. “Oldest con in the book.”

“But if he goes back into Nif,” said Point-Two, “you still have control of his suit.”

Fig checked his arm. “Yes. Looks like it.”

Point-Two looked over at Ubik.

“I’m for it,” said Ubik. “Put them together and give them some freedom to make their own choices. Beautiful unexpected outcomes could result.”

“Okay.” Point-Two nodded at Fig.

Nifell’s helmet disappeared. A beam of light struck his forehead, knocking his head back, arching his back. This time, Nif seemed to welcome the intrusion. There was a smile on his lips and something approaching ecstasy filling his face. Concentric spirals swirled around and around in his black eyes.

Point-Two took a wary look at Nif, standing up, stiff and motionless. If Nif was on the verge of a psychotic episode, something like this might well push him over the edge.

“We will aid you,” said Nif in a double-layered voice. “Together we will find a way out.”

“Um,” said Fig. “I just lost control of the suit.”

“Do not be concerned,” said Nif-Head.

The bubble helmet reappeared around Nif’s head. It distorted and stretched until it was no longer a sphere but a jagged object, still a sphere of sorts, but covered in rocky terrain. It was the asteroid, in all its craggy, mundane glory.

“He’s projecting the map through the suit’s interface,” said Fig, sounding impressed.

“I could have done that,” said Ubik.

“Is it a live version?” asked Point-Two.

“Looks like it,” said Fig as he stepped closer to get a better look. Nif didn’t move at all, not even to blink. “Can you make it a little bigger?”

The helmet expanded around Nif’s head, the details of the Antecessor site much easier to see, including life forms at the top level and down below.

“This is us,” said Fig. “This area, it wasn’t on the map before. He was indicating a new room that wasn’t on the copy Fig had. It was only a partial depiction of the room though, and didn’t show any exits.

“Ah,” said Ubik. “I see.” He came up behind Nif and pushed him. As he moved around the room, the map changed. It only showed the area of the room Nif was in.

“Mobile mapping,” said Ubik. “Brilliant.”

“The map only shows the areas powered up,” said Fig. “This place isn’t hooked up to the grid, so it wasn’t showing. And that’s why Head couldn’t leave, no connectivity.

“How’s he showing it now, though?” said Point-Two. “He’s still not connected to the grid.”

“No, he isn’t. But the suit, the nanodrones and the map are forming a kind of feedback loop that forms an independent grid inside the main grid. It’s not connected but it is recognised as existing.”

“Does that mean we can get out?” asked Point-Two.

“Yes,” said Nif-Head. “But first we will eliminate the greatest threat to our survival.” His head snapped to the side so he — they — looked directly at Ubik.

“Guys,” said Ubik, “we’re all on the same side now. No point holding grudges.”

Two unhinged entities, both involved in personal disputes with Ubik. The result should have been obvious. They weren’t going to struggle to take control of the one body they both inhabited. They were going to work together to achieve their common goal. Kill Ubik.

Point-Two stepped in between them. He had predicted this as one of the more likely results of putting two of Ubik’s victims together.

“It will have to wait,” said Point-Two. “At least until we get—”

Nif’s right arm shot forward, his hand in a fist. It moved incredibly fast. Point-Two had predicted that, too.

He didn’t try to dodge the fist. He let it come at his face, his own hands moving forward, along the arm reaching towards him. One hand landed on top of Nif’s upper arm, the other under his forearm. One pushed down, the other up.

Nif’s arm bent at the elbow and his fist went flying backwards into his own asteroid-themed helmet. The gloved fist passed through the force field and Nif punched himself in the face.

It had been a clean, forceful attempt, the Head using Nif’s body far more efficiently than Nif himself had ever managed. The strike was quick enough to make it undodgeable and powerful enough to break through a block.

But it wasn’t the power that let the punch down, it was the control. It was an all-in punch, counting on hitting its target. Redirecting it kept most of its power and intent, just not its target.

The punch in the face was harder than any hit Nif had taken before. He went down like every bone in his body had been simultaneously removed.

“I’m fine, I’m fine,” said Ubik, not that anyone had asked. “This is nothing to worry about. Teething problems. The important thing is we’ve all learned something here about treating people with a little more humanity, a little more respect.” He came over and began checking over Nif’s prone body. His focus more on the suit than the man, Point-Two would guess.

“I don’t want any of you blaming Nif for this,” said Ubik as he tightened straps, pulled out tiny wires around the collar and pressed various parts of the suit for no apparent reason (although there were probably a bunch of unapparent ones) . “He is a product of his environment, like we all are.”

“No one’s blaming him,” said Point-Two.

“Good, good. Let’s put it down to a learning experience. Part of the process. I think this will work.” Ubik stood up and signalled to Fig. “Can you get him up?”

Nif shot to his feet, even though his eyes were still closed. The helmet flickered but continued to display the map of the asteroid.

“Perfect.” Ubik stood behind Nif with his hands on either side of Nif’s waist. He pushed him along, the suit stiffly doing the walking for him.

“Mobile map and exit-finder,” said Ubik. “Up and on the move.”

“You’re treating him like he’s one of your tools,” said Point-Two.

“Yes,” said Ubik, “but I take excellent care of my tools.”

Was that the lesson here? Not to get Ubik to see people as more human but as more like his tools? Maybe that would make him less inclined to throw them away.

“I see something,” said Fig. running alongside Nif with his eyes on the map. “Over there.”

Ubik guided his mobile map in the direction Fig was pointing. It was tricky to guide the stiff limbs to move in anything other than a straight line.

“The structure converges here,” said Fig. “I can see a pattern, internally. If the readings from earlier are consistent across this area, then I should be able to…”

The asteroid helmet grew larger, than quickly shrank so it barely covered Nif’s head. As the helmet dimmed, the wall lit up with silver lines. They formed a triangle from floor to ceiling with smaller triangles inside each other. They began to fade from view almost immediately.

“It’s a door?” asked Point-Two.

“It’s a door,” said Fig. “Now we just need to work out how to open it.”

They both looked at Ubik. “Oh, now you want my help. Fine. Since it’s you guys and you ask so nicely.” He dropped Nifell and put his fingers in his mouth. The whistle he let out was piercing and loud. It echoed around the vast chamber.

The smallest triangle in the wall began to crumble. A few seconds later it turned into a triangular hole. The debris had fallen mostly inwards, revealing a tunnel.

The debris on this side began moving across the ground.

“Welcome back, boys,” said Ubik. “Quick, get in here. Nice and warm.” He pulled Nif’s collar so there was more of a gap between suit and skin. The nanodrones marched in.

Nif, still unconscious, grunted. The nanodrones were entering his body from some orifice that no one wanted to name.

“There you go,” said Ubik. “The gang’s back together.”

“Which floor are we on?” asked Point-Two.

“Looks around the sixth level,” said Fig. “Makes it three levels we have to get through.”

“But we have a map,” said Ubik. “Okay, a person who is going to prove invaluable to us and is deserving of immense gratitude. See? I can show a little human dignity when it’s required. He picked up Nif’s body. “I wish someone had told me dignity was going to be this heavy?” He dropped him and grabbed Nif’s foot instead and dragged him through the opening.

Chapter 478

My plan had been quite simple. Bring back a dead Elf, have it fight the giant and win. If for some reason it didn’t win, it would at least cause enough of a distraction to allow me to do something without getting targeted by the Americans.

I didn’t say it was a good plan, just simple.

Joshaya, however, wanted to bring back some golden oldies instead. The people who had come before us — and there’d been quite a few — who had died under various circumstances, some of those circumstances involving yours truly.

Did I really want to see Tin or Dag again? What if the dead could remember who killed them and held a grudge? That’s what they did in the movies. Dead people in movies were very resentful about that sort of thing, climbing out of TVs and writing messages in blood because of a bad day ten years ago. Jesus, let it go. Does everything have to be about you?

I was abused, I was murdered, I was bricked up in the basement — me, me, me.

Even worse, what if they didn’t remember who I was? That would be embarrassing.

“Hey, it’s me, Colin, the guy who ended your life.”

“Mm, no, sorry, doesn’t ring a bell.”

My ability to not make an impression on people would probably make me the greatest serial killer of all time. Eyewitnesses would look at me in a line-up and just carry on down the line.

“No, officer, it’s none of these men.”

“You can bring back all the dead Visitors?” I asked Joshaya, just to make sure we were on the same page.

“Most of them,” said Joshaya. “They will be powerful enough to defeat anyone. They will not be as easy to control as those I’ve raised before, and there’s a very good chance they will run rampant across the land killing everything in their path, but I am confident I can keep them in check.” His mood seemed to have improved greatly since coming up with this plan.

“All of them?” I asked again. “Even the ones who died even before they had a chance to become powerful?”

“Yes, well, them too,” said Joshaya. “They won’t be that useful, admittedly, but they will have some potential, for the future. But there have been some truly powerful Visitors over the years, you know? Some real beasts.”

“And they died?”

“They died, yes,” said Joshaya. He looked over at Peter.

Peter smiled and said nothing.

“You’re saying Peter killed them.”

“I don’t think that’s what he’s saying,” said Peter.

“That’s exactly what I’m saying,” said Joshaya.

“That’s preposterous,” said Peter. “Just because they died doesn’t mean it was my doing. How would that benefit me? I make them stronger. I can’t do that if they’re dead, can I?”

He had a point. His ability required a living host. He was more or less a parasite.

“He used them for his various purposes,” said Joshaya, “and when they were sucked dry, he used them to power those infernal spires.”

Joshaya was also making a strong argument. Eventually, a parasite will use up the host and move onto the next.

“And these Visitors you’re going to bring back, you know where the bodies are?”

“The spires,” said Joshaya. “They’re in there. Isn’t that right, Peter?”

Peter was still smiling but looking a bit shifty, like the pastor of a megachurch when the needy come knocking during a flood.

“It’s just where their bodies have been lain to rest, that’s all. You know, you’re making this sound unnecessarily ghoulish when it’s completely normal. Crypts, mausoleums, tombs, whatever you want to call them. It’s a respectful way to deal with the deceased, nothing more.”

When you thought about it, the whole concept of saving dead bodies and putting them in storage of some kind was pretty weird. Even a coffin in the ground is an odd way to deal with a corpse. A waste of prime real estate, if you ask me.

“Does that mean the power of the spires comes from dead Visitors?” I asked.

Peter’s shiftiness was steadily intensifying.

It made sense. I’d already seen various life forms being sacrificed to operate the spires. If they were built on the energy contained inside Visitors, that wouldn’t be the craziest idea I’d heard since arriving in this world. Wouldn’t even make the top ten.

When you’re transported to a fantasy world and given amazing powers, getting to play the hero of myth and legend isn’t the only way the story ends. Sure, that’s going to be the headline on the brochure, but not everyone gets to pull the sword out of the stone and save the princess.

It was probably like that in the beginning when there were just one or two Visitors and plenty of princesses to go around, but eventually you’re going to have competing heroes and any time you have competition, you’re going to have what the free market always brings with it — a massacre.

Don’t get me wrong, other forms of trade and commerce are also dripping in blood, but the idea of putting people in direct competition with each other for finite resources and labelling it as ‘enterprise’ is disingenuous, to say the least.

It really wasn’t that big a surprise to find out previous Visitors who hadn’t taken the appropriate precautions had ended up helping build society by being turned into mortar. Something’s got to keep the bricks from falling over.

“If you can bring them back under your control,” I said to Joshaya, “why haven’t you?”

“I was prevented by Peter,” said Joshaya. “He has been jealously guarding the source of his power for decades.”

“That had nothing to do with it,” said Peter. “The Queen would never allow you to raise them. It would give you too much power, Joshaya.”

Joshaya’s expression turned gloomy, which suggested Peter was right.

Personally, I thought it sounded like a great idea. Sure, it could go horribly wrong, and Joshaya undoubtedly had bad intentions once he got the Visitors of old out of the spires, but the important thing was that Jack and his crew weren’t going to be ready for them.

What had struck me about this latest debacle (my debacle count was quite high by this time) was how well prepared Jack had been so far. He had clearly been given just the right weapons for the job. The destruction of the vines and tendrils of the adjacent world indicated a very strong understanding of how to disrupt power in this world, and specifically, how to disrupt my power. I didn’t know who was behind this tactic but I was sure they had more tricks up their sleeves.

Bringing Joshaya in to lead the charge was one way to protect myself, but they probably had some way of dealing with him, too.

What I needed was a plan that no one thought was a good idea, so they wouldn’t have made any provisions for it. Bringing back dead Visitors who might turn Joshaya into an even worse problem than the one we already had seemed to me to fit the bill perfectly.

Even if this plan worked there was a very high probability that more problems would follow. Joshaya would have an army of undead Visitors or the Visitors themselves might break free and run amok or something even worse.

When you relied on using powers you didn’t really understand to overwhelm an opponent you couldn’t beat otherwise, you were leaving yourself open to getting overwhelmed yourself.

But that didn’t really matter. The early bird might get the worm but the second mouse got the cheese.

“Okay,” I said. “We’re going to go out there, you’re going to do your thing, the Queen’s going to get mad, I’ll deal with her, you get rid of the alien invaders. After that, we’ll sort out the loot, give out experience points and try to reorganise our inventory space to make everything fit.”

“Wait,” said Peter. “I really think you should reconsider. Once you start down this path, it will be too late for second thoughts.”

Peter not liking this idea was also another positive.

I did realise that none of this was going to pan out the way I was hoping but my main objective wasn’t to ‘win’. There’s no point going into any situation thinking in terms of winning. Nothing in my life has ever worked out like that and I doubted it was going to start doing so now.

What I was looking for was a way to stall long enough to get my main objective completed. I wanted to send as many people from here over there. Once that was done, they would be far too busy with the shit I’d be putting them into to continue with their attempt at colonising these distant shores. It would be like invading Iraq only to find no one was home and suddenly Mexico and Canada had launched a two-pronged offensive with a bunch of WMDs that weren’t supposed to exist.

Just to be clear, I don’t hold a copyright on that idea, so if anyone wants to use it, feel free.

“It’s fine,” I said to Peter. “We’ll work out the kinks when we get to them. Um, this way, I think.”

I set off into the dark with Joshaya marching alongside me. He was very eager so it was very likely he was planning all sorts of back-stabby things for when he was in charge of an army of superpowered dead people. I guess when you’re a god of the dead, that’s what it takes to snap you out of a depression. That and exercise, eating plenty of fruit and getting some fresh air, obviously. But mainly having your own army of the dead.

My link to Jenny was still present and served as a guide back to the real world. In fact, it was the one link that seemed to be growing stronger.

After a few metres I stopped and looked behind me. Peter was following a few steps back.

“You have to stay here, remember?” I said. “We’re going to do this without you around to screw things up.”

“Oh, I’m just seeing you off,” he said nonchalantly. “I’ll be waiting to hear how it goes. Best of luck.”

I set off again, stopped and turned. Peter was standing still, but the same distance from us as before.

“You’re not coming,” I said.

“Absolutely not,” Peter agreed.

“Can’t you do something about him?” I said to Joshaya.

“My powers are limited in here,” said Joshaya with a shrug.

“Okay, quick, through here.” I bundled Joshaya through the portal I’d been standing next to. The sudden lunge had a good chance of catching Peter off guard.

Not quick enough.

“Is this some kind of connecting space?” asked Peter from right behind me.

“No,” I said, “not exactly.”

“What is he doing here?” said Little-me. “I don’t like him. He gives me the creeps.”

“Wait,” said Peter, looking alarmed. “Is this… No.” His eyes darted around as though he could see things in the darkness. But this was my mind, there was nothing in the darkness. Just darkness.

“You can wait here,” I said. “I’m not exactly thrilled to have you staying inside my head while I’m not around, but at least I’ll know where you are.”

“This isn’t a good idea,” said Little-me.

“I don’t remember asking,” I said. “And can we not do this in front of the guests?”

“They aren’t guests,” Little-me mumbled through the hair covering most of his face. “He’s a psycho and he’s also a psycho. Are you worried I’m going to make you look bad in front of the psychos?”

“Yes,” I said, “but you are also a psycho.”

Little-me’s face, the part of it that was visible, drew itself into a puckered frown, like an unhappy sphincter. “Once you leave, he’s going to take over our mind and make us do terrible things. Even worse than the terrible things you already make me do.”

It was the most he’d ever said to me in one go so he obviously felt strongly about it. Like I gave a shit.

“Then it’s up to you to make sure he doesn’t take over,” I said. “This is where I — you are strongest. Stop feeling sorry for yourself and acting like you have no power over your own life.”

There was a quiet gasp of shock. “That’s what you do.”

“Not anymore. I’ve come to terms with my insecurities, which mean I care even less about yours. You are all-powerful in here, even if it doesn’t feel like it. You have to keep Peter quiet while I sort out a few things. If you don’t, we’re all fucked. We may be fucked anyway, but if you don’t for once in my life deliver, it’s over. And it will be your fault.”

Little-me sighed. “Fine.”

I turned around to face Peter who was standing awkwardly next to Joshaya, both acting like they hadn’t been listening.

“Right, let’s go,” I said to Joshaya.

“I suppose I’ll see you when I get back,” said Peter. He was clearly already thinking of ways to take over this place and use it for his own nefarious purposes. But he didn’t know what I was really like. I mean really like.

When it came to the dark pit at the centre of my world, my problem had never been about not letting people in, it was more about not letting what was in here, out. Little-me was the only one strong enough to keep the doors shut.

“Don’t worry,” said Peter, and then he didn’t say anything else. A mask appeared over his face, his body was in a straitjacket and he was strapped to a gurney.

“Have you been watching Silence of the Lambs?” I asked Little-me.

“Only as far as the first musical number,” he said, not impressed by my decision to add song and dance to the movie. But how can you have a character called Hannibal the Cannibal and not set it to music? It already rhymes, just steal a catchy hook from a 70s disco classic and it’s number one on the hip-hop charts.

“This way,” I said to Joshaya. I led him further into the dark recesses of my mind and then we were back.

Time had stopped while I’d been gone so not much had happened. Jenny was looking right at me as I returned.

“What have you done?” she immediately asked me. “You’re going to do something.”

“Yes,” I said.

“Something that’s a very bad idea.”

“Yes,” I agreed.

“Why is he here?” said the Fairy Queen.

Joshaya was standing next to me. I quickly checked to make sure Peter hadn’t also managed to sneak through. All clear.

“He’s going to take over,” I said.

“He is not,” said the Queen. “I’m going to send him back.”

There was a loud crash, and I mean loud.

“The giant’s breached the city wall,” said Claire.

“Go ahead, Joshaya,” I said. “Do your stuff.”

Jenny was right, I intended to carry out a very bad idea. Raising the dead had very little to do with it. I just needed them to cause a distraction. The real plan was so much worse.

Book 2 – 47: Step Down

Third Quadrant.

Asteroid Tethari.

Unknown Antecessor Site.

 

Ubik crouched and peered over the edge of the chasm. He watched Nifell grow smaller as he fell. His screams, however, didn’t diminish as they filled Ubik’s ears through the comms system.

“Can you turn off the audio?” Ubik asked Fig. “It’s kind of annoying.”

“Don’t you want to know what he sees down there?” asked Fig. He didn’t sound upset or even surprised at Nif volunteering to go on recon again.

“Fine, just turn the volume a bit then.”

“How’s he going to tell us anything when he’s going to end up dead?” asked PT. He did sound upset, but no more than usual. “The gravity increase down here is going to turn him into a stain on the floor.”

“Um,” said Fig, “the comms are open, so might be better not to…”

“He won’t die,” said Ubik, nice and clear in case Nif was listening; not that he’d be able to hear much with all that screaming. “He’s in an Ollo suit, isn’t he? Excellent workmanship. I’m sure he’ll survive. Might even be able to walk.” He nodded at PT in conspiratorial fashion, indicating he should also try to put a positive spin on things.

“Actually,” said Fig, “I think this gap is within range.” He was staring at the other side of the chasm which was about ten metres away.

Ubik stood up and gauged the distance. “Within range of what?”

Fig leaned over the edge and Ubik did the same. Nif was more or less a dot at this point. It was a very deep chasm.

And then Nifell’s head puffed up to ten times its size. Or rather, the force field helmet around his head did. Like gum being blown into a bubble he had a large pink balloon coming out of his neck.

It didn’t send him floating back up, though. It did stop him falling.

The bubble helmet was wide enough to touch either side of the chasm, and wedge Nif in place.

“Is that intended to work like that?” asked PT, joining the other two now. The three of them looked down on Nifell. At least he had stopped screaming. There was still a little whimpering, but that was to be expected.

“No, not really,” said Fig. “I improvised.”

“See?” said Ubik. “I’m rubbing off on him.”

PT made a face that suggested that might not be a good thing.

“Hey, Nifell,” said Ubik. “Nif, buddy, what can you see?”

“Nothing, I can see nothing, you monster.”

“Open your eyes.”

“No.”

“Can you hear anything?”

“No. But something smells awful.”

“That’s strange,” said Fig. “He shouldn’t be able to smell anything through the suit’s filters.”

“I don’t think the smell’s coming from outside of the suit,” said PT.

“Nif,” said Ubik, “you’re doing a great job. The Great Satan of Enaya will be very proud of you.”

“It’s called the Senate,” said Fig.

“I think he’s referring to himself,” said PT.

“You’ve got nothing to worry about,” said Ubik. “We’ll take good care of you.” Ubik turned to Fig. “Send him down the rest of the way.”

Fig and PT exchanged a look. They didn’t say anything but they seemed to have no better ideas.

“He’ll be fine,” said Ubik. “And even if he dies, the suit can give us environmental readings, right?”

“Nifell?” said Fig in a calm, quiet voice. “You might feel a bit of a drop.” He touched the panel on his arm and Nifell’s enormous helmet began to fall, but slowly with sparks flying from the edges where it made contact with the wall.

“What if the walls get wider apart further down?” said PT.

“That’s as big as I can make the headpiece,” said Fig. “I hope it’s not too much deeper. The helmet uses up a lot of energy when it’s that size.“

“What are you so worried about?” Ubik asked PT, who had an increasingly sour look on his face. “Things are going pretty well, don’t you think? We’re avoiding all the major obstructions the Antecessors put up and we’ll be on the lower level in no time. Don’t you like easy mode? Not enough of a challenge for you?”

“It’s plenty challenge,” said PT, unsouring not at all. “I’m just wondering when the nanodrones you released into the walls are going to encounter some vital systems and destroy the asteroid in a massive explosion.”

“Pah,” said Ubik. “You have some imagination. They’ll come back once they get bored. They like to have a look around, that’s all.”

“And what about Big Head?” asked PT. “He’s been eliminated, has he?”

“I hope not. I don’t believe in destroying tech that sophisticated and long-lasting. Wouldn’t have survived this long if he hadn’t been built by a master craftsman. Whatever his purpose, we should all be able to respect the level of skill that went into building him. And I’m pretty sure I can strip him for parts and use him to make something really cool.”

“Very respectful,” said PT.

“Did you see his face when my boys ate his circuits?” Ubik chuckled at the memory.

“Yes, I did,” said PT. “His face was five metres tall at the time, kind of hard to miss. His expression suggested he was going to find a way to get back at you.”

“That’s what you’re worried about? No need. I can take care of myself.”

“That’s what I’m worried about.”

“I’m alive,” said Nif’s voice, panting hard and wavering.

“I never doubted it,” said Ubik. “Good job. What’s down there?”

There was a long pause. Ubik waited it out. The poor guy was probably still in shock. It would be good to let him get used to it. Probably wouldn’t be the last time he got thrown into a bottomless pit.

“Ships… I think. There are a lot of them, whatever they are.”

“I’m getting some odd readings,” said Fig, looking at his arm. “They could be ships. But… I’m not sure.”

“Ships,” said Ubik. “That’s kind of interesting.” He jumped into the chasm.

A second later, his helmet inflated until it filled the gap and he came to a sliding halt.

“Just a fraction less,” Ubik called out. The edges of the bubble flickered and he began to descend again, this time at a controlled rate.

It felt very strange, suspended by the neck by a large balloon that threw up pink sparks. He looked up and saw two sets of feet falling towards him.

Fig’s suit was a different model with no bubble helmet and PT’s was Nif’s basic suit with no upgrades at all. But they both fell with style, bouncing off the walls to slow their descent.

PT, in particular, made it look like he was performing some kind of trick, a series of tumbles and kicks, using gravity and friction and air resistance in a three-way combo. He looked like he could twist and turn his way back to the top if he wanted.

Fig was a little more restrictive in his movements. He seemed to be aiming for Ubik, or rather the top of his helmet. He landed on it — one hand and one knee down — and Ubik felt his fall speed up momentarily. PT shot past both of them. Sliding down the wall like it was a very steep snow slope.

As Ubik touched down — his boots absorbing the impact — PT was already down and looked completely unfazed.

Fig slid off Ubik’s helmet, which shrank down to regular size. They were on a level floor, not rocky so it had been flattened artificially. A gap cut into the rock of this size — what could it be for?

The passage stretched out on either side with no interruption. No side channels, no alcoves or recesses. There was no sign of Nifell.

“He’s over there,” said Fig, pointing down the chasm where a light appeared. It was the light from Nif’s suit, controlled by Fig. Slaved spacesuits really were very useful. Almost as good as a drone.

They set off towards the figure which wasn’t moving. The light showed an opening at the far end. Nif was standing just before it, going no further. The perfect position to start his next recon mission.

“This is incredible,” said Fig. “I can’t get over it.”

“It’s just a passage,” said Ubik.

“No, not that. I mean the way my life has gone since I left home. I was trained specifically to defeat this place’s defences, and we’ve avoided all of them. Nothing I was taught seems useful any more.” He looked over at Ubik. “I’m supposed to be able to read a person’s intentions before they know them themselves, but I can’t read you at all. Every situation I encounter just proves how unqualified I am.”

“But you’re special,” said Ubik. “Without you, this place would just kill us on the spot.”

“That makes my most valuable contribution being a hostage,” said Fig.

“No training teaches you how to do the task it’s training you for,” said PT. “It only teaches you how to survive while you learn on the job.”

Nifell turned as they approached him. “I’m a decorated guardsman,” he said in a barely controlled voice that was on the edge of breaking. “I’ve been in situations that were terrifying and I’ve faced death many times without losing my nerve or my mind, but I can’t go on like this. You three are pushing me over the brink. I’ve had enough.”

“I know you have,” said Ubik, patting the man on the shoulder. “Not much longer now.” He shoved him out of the opening.

Nifell went stumbling out into the large open area behind him. He didn’t try to resist, he just had a sad expression on his face. He came to a stop a few metres away, the light from his suit illuminating the ships around him. He remained there, shivering.

The area was full of what were clearly spaceships of Antecessor design, but they looked incomplete. It wasn’t just the lack of lights zipping across their surfaces, they were asymmetrical, which was not typical of Antecessor builds. They were also of different shapes and sizes. Some were barely big enough for one person. One human, anyway. Others rose up until their higher parts couldn’t be seen.

It was an enormous hangar, deep in the heart of the asteroid.

“Were they building an armada?” said PT.

“Down here? No,” said Ubik. “Not building. Taking apart. These are all broken. Can’t you tell? You don’t leave ships lying around like this unless you intend to use them for spare parts. The Ants were like me, didn’t want to waste anything.” He walked around and Nifell scurried away from him, and then slowly crept nearer, his conflicted posture suggesting he wasn’t sure if he was more scared of what was in the dark or what was in the light.

It was eerie and very quiet. Every way Ubik turned, some new construct appeared in the lights from his suit. “This is amazing. So much stuff to work with. I bet I could build a really nice… something.”

“You don’t know how Antecessor stuff works,” said PT, following him.

“Not yet,”said Ubik.

“We don’t have time to learn,” said Fig. “We still have to find my father.”

“What level are we on?” asked PT.

“I don’t know,” said Fig, checking his arm and bringing up the map Big Head had shown them. “My copy of the map isn’t live. It doesn’t show where we are and the crevice doesn’t appear on it. I think it’s a vent or a waste disposal access. I think Ubik’s right, this is all junk.”

“Hey, easy,” said Ubik. “Nothing wrong with junk. I’ve had a lot of good times with my hands on some junk. Hey, I see something. It’s glowing.”

“Don’t touch it,” said Fig and PT together.

“You guys, you really care about me, don’t you. Don’t deny it.”

He was standing next to a black wall, smooth and unmarked save for one square of white that was glowing softly. He reached out a finger to poke it.

“Don’t!” they said in unison.

“It’s fine,” said Ubik. He touched it with the tip of his finger. Nothing happened. “See?” Ubik let out a yell. His body shook violently and his eyeballs rattled in their sockets as a warbling sound vibrated out of his mouth.

Fig and PT stood there watching him.

Ubik stopped. “Little electrocution humour. Not buying it, huh?”

“Your Delgados wouldn’t let you get electrocuted,” said PT.

“You two… Always one step—”

A familiar face appeared on the wall behind him. It opened its giant mouth as it stretched out of the wall and fell hungrily on Ubik. Then it slurped him into the wall and disappeared.

“Do you think this is another fakeout?” said PT.

“Probably,” said Fig. “Even if he isn’t, the suit is very durable. Take a while for him to die. The readings are all fine.”

Ubik suddenly appeared out of the wall, wild-eyed, arms flailing and head yelling inside his helmet as he tried to escape before being dragged back in.

“Should we do something?” said PT.

Fig thought about it. “No.” He checked the control panel. “Should be able to get some useful reading while he’s in there.”

Ubik appeared again, this time most of his upper torso. “Help!” He looked genuinely distraught.

PT leapt forward, grabbed him by the shoulders, and pushed him back in.

A few seconds later the top of Ubik’s helmet began to emerge. PT placed his hand on it and kept it from coming out any further. He turned to Fig. “Get as much as you can. I think I can keep him in there for a while.”

Nifell came closer, looking at the situation with mild curiosity.

“Let me know if your arm gets tired,” he said.

Chapter 477

“Elfs?” said Joshaya, his face screwed up in confusion. “What Elfs? What are you talking about, boy? There aren’t any Elfs. They left a long time ago. Don’t you know your history?”

I knew very little of the history of this world. In fact, I knew very little of the history of my own world. Sure, I learned about the Spanish Armada and World War II, but I also got taught about Noah’s Ark and Columbus discovering America by landing in the Bahamas. There’s a lot of stuff I feel is kept intentionally murky.

“What about the Elf who turned up in Gorgoth?” I said. “Seemed pretty present.”

“Yes,” said Joshaya in an exasperated tone, like I was the one being idiotically uninformed. “But that one wasn’t dead. I can’t raise the living, can I?”

“But there are bound to be others, aren’t there?” I said. “They aren’t immortal, right? You had your skirmishes with them. You must have killed one or two. We just go find where the bodies were buried and you can, you know, rip them out of the ground and force them into indentured service. It’s all the rage at the moment, you’ll probably get a medal for services to industry.”

Joshaya didn’t look very enthusiastic about my idea. Not that anyone ever looked enthusiastic when hearing one of my ideas. That’s why I preferred to work alone. That and the fact every single person I’ve ever met has been an incompetent retard who made everything much harder than it needed to be and always found some way to avoid taking responsibility for their utter failure to do what they were fucking told.

I may have some residual anger about that.

“We did not kill any of them,” said Joshaya, taking a more sombre tone. “Such a thing would be against all known laws.”

“What does that mean?” I was a little miffed at his sudden reverence. “You’re supposed to be gods. Don’t you make the laws?”

“There are some laws that are beyond the reach of men and gods.”

“No,” I said. “That just means you don’t know what a god is. You’re supposed to be the boss. The creator of all things.”

Joshaya gave me a strange look. “How could that be? Who made us, then?”

I didn’t really want to get into a metaphysical debate about the nature of the universe where you start down a rabbit hole which turns into a black hole that ends in a big bang and suddenly you’re being accused of sexual assault. We live in strange times, and that’s coming from someone stuck in a fantasy world.

My definition of what a god was clearly did not match with his. But then, I was from a monotheistic tradition where the main man was the only game in town. Even though we’ve had our fair share of pantheistic deities, too.

In fact, the family of gods, usually with a dad who liked to fuck everything and a bunch of kids who each took over part of the family business, was the standard template for ages.

Then someone realised it was hard to claim you were speaking with the authority of the most powerful being in existence when the guy on the next soapbox was speaking on behalf of that guy’s uncle or mother or half-goat step-brother.

Much easier to get people to do what you tell them when your boss is the only boss.

Joshaya, though, was from a different tradition. He was just very powerful compared to regular plebs, so he got elevated to superior being status. And there were other powerful beings above and below him. Sort of like celebrities in their various lists, but with slightly smaller egos.

“I do not care to involve myself in your petty plans,” said Joshaya.

Don’t you just hate it when someone who used to be into the same things as you decides they’re too good for that nonsense? I mean, give it up if you want but there’s no need to be a sanctimonious prick about it.

“So there is a way to raise an Elf from the dead?”

“No, there is not. But if there were, I wouldn’t lower myself to such a disrespectful act.”

See what I mean? Pompous.

“I don’t see why not,” I said. “You’ve lowered yourself to plenty of other acts. The Queen tells you to do something and you snap to it. The only way you can say no to her is hide in here.”

Joshaya didn’t look very happy with my analysis of his working relationship with the Fairy Queen. Which probably meant I was dead-on.

“I can fix it so you don’t have to do what she tells you anymore.”

Joshaya’s displeasure turned to mild curiosity. “And how would you do that?”

“I’m sending her to another world. One where her talents will keep her very busy, so no chance of her coming back to bother the rest of us.”

Joshaya seemed to be thinking it over. He shook his head violently to snap himself out of it.

“Even if you could do what you say, I am not interested. What difference does it make who is in charge — her, the Elfs… you!” He sighed and pulled on his beard. “I’d much rather stay in here.”

“There must be something you want.” I was getting a little desperate. I knew from personal experience, once someone went down the helter-skelter of self-pity, it was very hard to drag them back up again.

“Well…”

“Yes?”

“I suppose…”

“Go on.”

It’s at times like this, when you’re on the verge of discovering the thing you’ve been fishing for, that tradition dictates an interruption comes in just at that moment to prevent you finding out. Sitcoms and French plays practically insist on it.

Fortunately we were in a Void where interruptions were hard to come by.

“Ah, you’ve returned,” said Peter, emerging from the darkness like some kind of slick master of bad timing. “How goes it on the outside? Too much to handle for you?”

“No, no, no,” I said, pushing Peter back into the darkness, which refused to swallow him up. “We’re in the middle of a very delicate conversation. A private one. So if you could give us a little space…”

“Certainly,” said Peter. “I’ll stay over here until you’re done. I wouldn’t wish to intrude. None of my business, I’m sure. What is it you’re discussing?”

“Nothing you need to concern yourself with. Could you just leave?”

“I would, I would. Only, there isn’t anywhere to go. The place may look large but it’s quite deceptive. It’s the lack of corners. Creates the illusion of infinite space. If you really want me to not observe, you’ll have to let me out. It’s the only solution.”

Of course, interrupting at the worst possible moment doesn’t only serve to frustrate people, it provides them with a desire to get rid of the person who’s being a dick. Something Peter was clearly a master at.

“I’m not letting you out, Peter. Just stay over there and don’t speak, okay?”

“As you wish,” said Peter, all smiles. “I could help, though. I’ve been with him quite some time now. I like to think I’ve picked up on his moods, his likes and dislikes. What is it you wish for him to do?”

“Nothing. He’s going to tell me what he wishes so I can use it to get him to do what I want.”

“Oh, that’s easy,” said Peter. “I can tell you that.”

“Can you? What?” I waited for another interruption.

“He wants to be adored. To be loved by the masses. He’s quite the showman at heart. But it’s hard, you know, considering his profession. Death isn’t very appealing as a profession. He can, of course, produce an audience out of the ground, as it were, but it’s not the same, is it?”

Considering Joshaya’s turn as the Pope of Gorgoth, Peter’s claim didn’t seem all that outlandish. He liked to put on a show and he liked to dress up.

“Is that true?” I asked Joshaya, who looked ready to deny everything. “Because if it is, I can definitely arrange that.”

“You can?” said Joshaya. “How?”

“Easy,” I said. “Everyone loves a hero. And that’s exactly what people need right now. Enemies are at the gate, defeat is unavoidable, and then you arrive to save the day. Some music, some lighting, a big fight with good choreography. You’ll be a smash hit.”

I could see the idea taking hold in Joshaya’s head. If I’d known he was this big a ham from the start, I’d have had a much easier time of it.

I decided to lay it on thick. “They’ll be so pleased by your heroic heroism, they’ll put you on a pedestal and hero-worship you.” Maybe a little too thick. “That’s why we’ll make such a good team. You want people to like you, and I think of people as a muddy road that will slow you down and make you dirty if you let it touch you. We don’t want the same thing so we won’t get in each other’s way.”

“You want me to take all the credit and adulation?” said Joshaya, slightly suspicious but mostly hooked. He wanted to be worshipped, like any god. But he actually wanted people to mean it. A crazy idea that had never worked, but there’s always a first time.

“Yes,” said Peter, suddenly appearing at my shoulder. “The three of us will make a splendid team.”

I could tell from Joshaya’s expression he was about as eager to have Peter on board as I was.

“I don’t want to offend you, Peter,” I lied, “but if we let you get involved, you’ll ruin everything.”

“Oh,” said Peter, “that’s a little hurtful, I must say. I do have some useful qualities, you know.”

“No,” I said, “you don’t. You only look to serve your own needs, which would be fine if those needs also coincided with what others needed. But they don’t. They never do and never will because your need is to take away whatever anyone else needs. You see the problem?”

Peter frowned. “But it’s for—”

“Their own good? No, Peter, it isn’t. That’s just the line you use on the dumber ones to make them think sticking with you will see them alright while the rest perish. They, of course, will also perish once you don’t need them anymore.

“You really are being very harsh,” said Peter. “Am I really so bad?”

“Yes,” I said. “But I think you’ll do great back home. Your sort are doing very well at the moment. Here’s what I’ll do. Once me and Joshaya here have taken care of the imminent problem, I’ll find a way to send you back to Earth.”

“You will?” It was Peter’s turn to look doubtful about my promises. I didn’t look like the kind of guy who could get things done and give you what no one else could, but then I also looked like a guy who should have died on the first day he got here and yet I was still breathing and had all my limbs. Wasn’t even missing any teeth. That had to count for something.

“If I can pass you off as someone else’s problem I will consider that a win. Things are really stuck in a rut over there right now. Someone like you could really shake things up. I would gladly send you into that fight.”

“Vey well,” said Peter. “I will wait here for your return.”

I didn’t believe him. I’d put the chances of him standing back and letting the show go on without him at zero percent, and that’s rounding up.

It was a tricky thing I was trying. I wanted Joshaya to help me, but he would probably end up betraying me. I wanted Peter not to help, but he would probably end up betraying me. And I definitely didn’t want me to be involved in any meaningful way (because I would probably end up betraying me).

While it was a lot of effort I was looking at — and we all know how I feel about effort — I considered this my last big push to get rid of everyone and finally (finally!) have no one bothering me. Admittedly, it would be easier to just kill them all and have done with it, but that sort of thing makes you look bad. Next thing you know, you’re doing weird shit with facial hair and designing your own military outfits. You always know something’s not right when the uniforms start to have more medals than chest space and have to go on the shoulders and sleeves, just look at Colonel Gaddafi or Idi Amin or Michael Jackson.

“You will make me the hero?”

My subtle psychological manipulation was working.

“Yes. The Great Hero Joshaya, saviour of the human race, and also a number of other races I’m still not too sure of the names of. They’ll insist you take charge of all the important decisions and give you the last slice of cake and everything. You will be the Chosen One.”

What he would be was the Burdened One, trust me, I know what I speak of. But some people like that sort of thing. They see it as a validation of their worth. Why anyone feels it’s important to be approved of by a bunch of idiots, I have no idea, but if it makes you happy, go for it.

“It won’t work,” said Peter. He frowned and shook his head. “He’s tried it before, tried to win them over. It never lasts. He doesn’t have the right kind of personality. Not likeable enough.”

Joshaya, who had been just about to take the bait, sagged a little, withdrawing into himself. Classic toxic relationship.

“Were you around to see it?” I asked Peter.

“Yes, I’ve seen it happen with my own eyes. More than once. Isn’t that right, Joshaya?”

Joshaya flinched and shrank before my eyes. You have to be a special kind of monster to be able to bully a god.

“Then I’m guessing you intervened to make sure he failed,” I said, based on no evidence whatsoever.

“Me? No, no, I merely observed from the sidelines.”

“Yes, that’s what you’re good at. Observe while others do your dirty work for you. I know how you operate, Peter.”

“Is that true?” said Joshaya. “Did you sabotage me?”

“This is ridiculous,” said Peter. “The boy has no proof.”

“But it does sound like something you would do, doesn’t it?” I said.

The two of them looked at each other, knowing it was exactly the way Peter operated.

“I feel I’m being unfairly maligned,” said Peter.

“Easy way to find out if I’m right,” I said. “This time, you won’t be around to screw things up. You’ll be in here, unable to interfere. We’ll be out there, saving the world. And, even if Joshaya is unlikable, the thing is, Peter, he isn’t as unlikeable as me. As long as I’m there, next to him, he’s going to look like a bloody Golden God for real.”

It was hard for either of them to argue against that.

“I agree,” said Joshaya.

“You do?” I was a little surprised to have won.

“But there are no Elfs to bring back from the dead. Instead, there are those who are like you.”

“Like me?” I said. “What do you mean?” I failed to see how an army of miserable gits would win anything.

“Visitors. The ones who came before you. The ones Peter made sure wouldn’t get in his way.”

The suggestion gave me pause for thought. The people who had arrived before us, grew in power, and then had been killed. They would certainly be powerful, even as undead. The only thing was, Peter wasn’t the only one to have killed off the competition. I had also made a couple of deletions to my Christmas card list. And I wasn’t too sure I wanted to see any of them again.

Book 2 – 46: Landing Party

Third Quadrant.

Asteroid Tethari.

Ollo Base Landing Pad B.

 

Chukka viewed the landing area on the screen that covered the floor of the dropship as they descended at the equivalent of a three G dive. The ship’s internal buffers prevented the passengers and crew from feeling the effects of the accelerated plunge but did nothing to stop the ground rising up at incredible speed on the screen, giving the impression that a crash would be the inevitable outcome.

“Coming up on the landing site,” said the ship’s captain over the comms. “Looks clear. Prepare to deploy.”

The interior of the ship was one large space currently containing sixteen VendX Priority Team commandos, strapped into pods attached to the walls on either side. The ship jerked and slowed, the noise of the thrusters dropping in pitch to a monotone growl that shook Chukka’s suit and helmet so hard her vision became blurred.

Chukka had never been given command of this scale before, and now she was in charge of a full-scale task force. It was both thrilling and a cause for concern.

She was certainly the best-informed company rep on this matter — her interactions with the target and his companions gave her a clear understanding of what they were up against. Any other commander would be hard put to correctly gauge the variables even if fully briefed. You really had to experience Ubik to believe he was capable of the things he was responsible for. But she was still very inexperienced, which meant her superiors were using her for what the marketing department liked to call a ‘toe in the water’. If marketing were involved, the water was likely to be filled with piranhas.

If things went wrong, she would be the one taking the fall. Which was fine. It was a risk she gladly accepted considering the possible rewards if she managed to pull this off. And they had given her the entire Priority Shipping Fleet to get the job done. They wanted her to succeed, but they suspected she wouldn’t. It was just business. She would test the waters, give them a better idea of their next step — preparations were probably already underway for a stronger second response.

That was if she failed. Her job was to make sure she didn’t.

The ship came to a stop over the landing area, hovering and making an immense racket as it did so. Outside there would be no noise in the airless atmosphere but inside there was a relentless cacophony. Sound insulation was seen as an unnecessary expense when everyone on board was hooked up to the comms system in their suits. And modern suits did a good job of shutting out everything else. But they weren’t in modern suits.

“We see two ships on the pad,” said the captain’s voice in Chukka’s ear, “both show no signs of life on board. One is ours.”

Chukka squinted and cleared her vision. Her fingers tapped on the old-fashioned arm controls to adjust the suits internal pressure to counter the vibrations as she looked down at the two ships on the screen. Seen from above, they were small blocks, but it was clear that one was a small, compact shuttle with typical features for its size, and the other was a melted lump of metal with the VendX logo just about visible on its warped roof.

“What happened to it?” she asked the captain.

“No idea. Our sensors are telling us it was fired on by one of our own ships.”

“A VendX ship did that?”

“According to the fire patterns, VendX heat signatures. But we haven’t got another ship on site. Must be the other ship using our gear. We do sell it commercially.”

“Yes, Captain, I know. What can you tell me about the other ship?”

“Nothing. Doesn’t have any ID, no ping-back at all. No weapon configuration, either. It’s either unarmed or very well shielded.”

“Is it damaged?”

“Not a scratch, Major. Not a scratch. Want me to land somewhere else?”

“No. Hold position.” It didn’t seem possible, a small shuttle like that able to decimate one of VendX’s premium assault vessels. But that was why she was the ideal person to lead this mission — she knew such things were possible, when the person behind them was Ubik.

Chukka released herself from the pod and floated to a standing position. “Okay, listen up.”

“Eyes front,” barked Sudan, a broad-shouldered grunt and a veteran of multiple hostile sales pitches. He was the type to not get his scars removed even though that was one of the perks of working for the Priority Fleet, as the gouges in the left side of his face proved. He was far more experienced than Chukka and they both knew it, but he was also smart enough to know who would get the blame if things went bad, and that giving her command was a good indicator that that was the expected outcome. He would be a good second-in-command because only a fool would want to take her place.

“I want you to treat this as an extremely prejudiced pitch,” said Chukka, “soured beyond rescue. We aren’t here to win anyone over. There’ll be no walking away with a clean signature from this one.”

She could feel sixteen pairs of visored eyes watching her, doubting her credentials for running what looked like a basic smash and grab op. There was no winning anyone over here, either. No one liked the PR department because no one trusted the PR department.

“I want to make this very clear,” continued Chukka, “so there’s no room for confusion. Whatever your training tells you, no matter how confident you might feel, if you’re face to face with the target, you open fire.”

She pressed buttons on her arm and a Holver image of Ubik appeared next to her. Even through their visors, she could feel just how unimpressed they were with what they saw. It was imperative she get them to ignore their intuition. Overconfidence would get them killed.

“Those of you wondering why I was put in charge, understand, I’m the only one who’s had direct contact with the target. I know what he’s capable of. You don’t make any judgement calls here, you open fire. No headshots. We need him alive or his brain intact at the very least. That’s why we have four medics on this job. They aren’t for you, they’re for him. We drop him as fast, get him stable and then extract. Take him down as quick as you can, you won’t get a second chance.”

“Why not give us real guns, then?” said a disgruntled voice over the comms.

“Watch your mouth,” said Sudan. “Mics are open.”

“That’s fine,” said Chukka. “He’s right, we’re using low-powered weapons that are going to make the job harder. You know the reason for that. We want to give him as little to work with as possible.”

“He uses our strengths against us,” said another, equally disgruntled voice, “so we go in as weak as possible? Sounds like a great plan.”

They weren’t happy. They were going into a lethal situation heavily underpowered with a green commander. They knew the odds were stacked against them.

“I know,” said Chukka. “But he succeeds by surprising people with what he can do. We won’t be surprised.”

“That’s him. What about the Ollo network? And the Antecessor defences? How do we deal with them?”

“We also have two techs from Advanced Research,” said Chukka. All heads turned to the two agents at the far end of the hold, both dressed in black suits with mirrored visors, who didn’t move at all. “They’ll take care of that. Captain? I want to do a leaflet-drop from…” She pressed a button on her suit. “Orbital, what’s the maximum height we can drop in from, no rigging?”

“Two hundred metres,” came the immediate reply.

“Okay, Captain, drop height is two hundred.”

“In these suits?” said Sudan, unable to hide his shock.

“Yes, Lieutenant. These suits might be old, but the old gear was built to last. Captain, once we’re out, get into low-level orbit and wait for us to call you. Orbital, who’s on the ground?”

“Ground is clear. We see six competitor ships, two stealthed, no life signs on the surface.”

The competition was here but six was fine. They would just get in each other’s way and she was confident her team would be able to take care of whoever was left. A small, surgical team that knew why it was here. The rest of the fleet just needed to stop anyone else from joining in.

“Keep the skies clear,” said Chukka. “No one lands.”

“We’ve got six ships incoming. Authorisation for pre-emptive action?”

“Negative orbital.” The last thing she needed was a fight on two fronts. “Use everything but lethal. I know you’ve got a few tricks to keep them busy.”

“Wilco. Won’t be able to hold them off forever, though.”

“No problem. Do what you can. Okay, let’s go.”

The team unstrapped from their pods and stood up. The two AR agents grabbed a large flight case between them. The floor went black and then opened like bomb bay doors to reveal the actual surface of the asteroid. Everyone fell.

They fell slowly, their suits self-adjusting to keep them upright. There were no thrusters to slow them down as they approached the ground but the lining of their suits expanded forming an extra layer around their bodies. As they touched down, the suit absorbed the impact. A couple of people stumbled or ended up in a kneeling position but no one was injured.

Chukka looked up. Her ships shot across the starry sky, keeping watch.

The two techs from AR didn’t even pause to steady themselves. They wore their own suits, confident that they wouldn’t suffer any problems even though she Chukka had given them a strong warning about what to expect. She had no idea what would happen if they ran into Ubik, but they wouldn’t be in the front lines and hopefully that particular meeting of minds wouldn’t happen. She didn’t have much choice in the matter — she needed some tronics if she hoped to get past the Ollo systems. It was the only part of her plan she felt unsure of. The rest was all designed to take care of the Ubik factor as efficiently as possible. Once they found him.

The Priority Team immediately set up a perimeter and checked the surroundings. They had come down between the secondary landing pad and the main base. Chukka turned to take in the full view. It was a miserable little rock with no notable features, other than control of the giant swirling eye above them, and the deadly lair of the Antecessors below.

“Should we investigate the ship, Major?” asked Sudan. He was referring to the mysterious shuttle that had somehow destroyed one of their most advanced craft.

“No, we’re not here to investigate anything. Have you made contact with the forward team?”

Sudan looked over at his comms operator who shook his head. “Interference.”

“You said you had a way past the Ollo network,” said Sudan, sounding like he didn’t really believe it.

“Not me, them.” Chukka tilted her helmet at the AR agents who were setting up their equipment in line of site of the base. It consisted of a series of poles inserted into the ground around them.

“Do we even know if this Ubik character is on the asteroid?” said Sudan as they watched the poles slide into the rocky surface like it was wet mud. “If he has any sense, he’ll probably head out of the quadrant and lay low on some out of the way planet.”

“He’s here,” said Chukka.

“How can you be sure?” said Sudan. “There haven’t been any confirmed sightings.”

Chukka pointed at the mystery ship. She had inspected it using the magnifier on her antiquated viewfinder. Sudan looked and magnified, and nearly choked when he saw what she had. The name of the ship was the POV Ubik.

“The boy’s some kind of idiot,” said Sudan, shaking his head in disbelief.

“Some kind,” said Chukka.

Six poles in the ground crackled as a blue light flickered between them. One of the AR agents looked at Chukka. “Too much noise.” His voice was distorted and deliberately modulated to hide his identity, if he even was a he. Researchers for supercorporations were the most likely to be kidnap targets for rival companies. Chukka had overseen a number of forced acquisitions herself.

“You were supposed to be able to override the Ollo network.”

“It’s not the Ollo network we’re having trouble with,” said the AR. “The Antecessor grid is off the charts. Something’s happened.”

“Our team?”

The agent shrugged. Then he turned and helped his companion remove the poles as though any further problems had nothing to do with them.

“Flott’s a good man,” said Sudan. “Calm head. You can count on him to hold the fort until we get there.”

“Okay,” said Chukka. “Let’s move out.” She was well aware that things weren’t going to go exactly to plan, but she had hoped they would take a little longer to begin the derailment process.

Sudan gave the order and the team moved towards the base at a jog, weapons raised and ready.

The AR agents stopped as they approached, causing everyone else to stop and scour the perimeter down their gun sights.

“This ship,” said one of the agents, “it’s a Holover. A tunnel leads down—”

“Ignore it,” said Chukka. “If anything seems off, stay away from it. Keep going.”

This time the team didn’t wait for Sudan to give the order. They seemed to approve of Chukka’s non-interventionist approach.

The entrance to the base showed signs of damage. The gate was jammed in a semi-open position — an obvious trap. But the forward team had already entered and they had been informed of what to expect.

The two AR agents ran ahead as the rest of the team took up defensive positions. They produced a series of tubes which they slotted together and then passed under the gate. One of them then held the end to their visor and looked down it.

“Clear.”

It was hardly the most advanced tech, but it worked.

Sudan pointed at two of his men and signalled for them to go first. They ran up to the gate, dropped to the floor with their weapons held tightly against their chests, and rolled under. The rest followed, two at a time.

Chukka went last but two, the rear guard following her in. They were in a large hangar with a single tunnel, large enough for a small craft to fly down, leading into the base-proper. This was clearly an Ollo construction, with their family insignia on the wall and the patented Ollo green and gold colour scheme in evidence on all the machinery.

A number of sentry drones stood guard with their heads missing and their bodies blasted to pieces. There were also two dead bodies.

“Touch nothing,” said Chukka as firmly as she could.

The AR agents had their poles out again, sliding them into the concrete floor as easily as the rocky surface outside. The blue light flickered between the tips. The AR agent nodded at her.

“Dampening EMP is working,” said a distorted voice.

“Sir,” said the comms operator, “I’ve got a signal.”

Sudan glanced over at the AR duo with begrudging admiration. Then he looked at Chukka with a flat, functional tolerance. “We have contact.”

“Okay, let me speak to them.”

“This is Flott,” said a shrieking voice in her helmet. “Get the hell out of here.” The volume faded and rose making it hard to catch every word, but the tone was unmistakable: panic. “It came out of the walls. It killed everyone. Get—”

The transmission cut out. An uneasy silence descended on the Priority Team.

“How many organics can you ID?” she asked the AR agents.

“Six within a one klick radius. Wait. Five. One just died.”

Chukka felt the weight of expectation from all sides. “We’re heading in.”

Sudan nodded once, a curt acceptance of her decision. They were professionals here to do a job. They didn’t get paid if they came back with nothing.

They formed into two ranks and set off down the long tunnel to the Antecessor facility. There were vehicles to the side, small carts that could be used to carry gear or people. No one suggested using them, her message of treating every electronic device with suspicion getting through. They were used to augmented suits that did most of the work for you, but they had low loadouts and the reduced gravity helped.

The tunnel was long and lit with bright white lights from above and the sides. After about a minute of a loping march, the lights ahead of them in the distance turned off. Then more and more lights followed, producing an eerie effect of darkness closing in, one step at a time.

Confused: “What’s that?”

Nervous: “I can’t see anything.”

Distorted: “We’re getting some strange readings. Advise we hold position.”

A moment later, they were enveloped by the dark. The team’s suit lights flickered on, barely illuminating each other. A loud howl echoed down the tunnel towards them. Everyone was frozen in position, waiting.

“Don’t fire until I give the command,” said Sudan. There was no more doubt or insolence in his voice now, just authority.

There was a flash of flickering light in the distance, like trapped lightning. It seemed to dance from wall to roof to wall. Then it began to rain sparks down from the roof. Something was moving towards them. Something very big.

“What is it?” said Chukka.

“Droid,” said a distorted voice. “Insanium class.”

“What?” said Sudan. “What’s it doing up here?”

The droid howled again as if in answer and then came surging towards them. The lightning intensified, the glow revealing a creature running on four legs like an animal. Running upside down on the ceiling, long tendrils hanging down, dripping electricity.

No one waited for the order, they just opened fire. The projectiles their guns used pinged and ricocheted off the droid with absolutely no effect. An iris opened in its chest like a huge mouth ringed with a serrated edge like teeth. It leapt down from the roof of the tunnel and began to wreak havoc.

The team stood their ground. There wasn’t room to get past the behemoth and only a long straight tunnel to retreat into. The droid killed with every swipe of its huge limbs, behaving nothing like a regular droid. This was a wild beast.

Panic: “Help, medic.”

Terror: “My arm.”

Despair: “Man down. Man down.”

One of the medics was busy treating another medic who had been hit by shrapnel from their own bullets. A third ran across the tunnel to get to someone who had lost a limb. As he ran past the droid, its chest iris opened and sucked the man in as he vainly tried to outrun his fate. The iris snapped shut on his waist so his legs fell to the floor. Then the creature turned and raised its tail — why it had a tail was completely baffling — and ejected the top half of the medic from its rear, the man still screaming as his blood and entrails were splattered against the wall behind Chukka, coating her in red.

She stood there, blinded, unable to move or to even think. There had to be a way out of this. As she tried to think, the screams in her helmet comms gradually lessened.

She wiped the viscera from her visor and looked around. She was the only one left standing. For something so big it had moved incredibly fast. But now it was moving very slowly towards her.

It was huge and graceful and menacing. She had never seen a droid like this. Never heard of insanium class. The tendrils around its head hung like hair, like dreadlocks bursting with electrical power. Its one large eye rotated and grew smaller, like it was locking on target.

This wasn’t how this mission was going to end. She refused to accept this as her final act. She needed some way to distract it. If she’d had her own suit, top of the line with all the optional extras, she would have been able to outrun it at least. But all she had was this basic, outdated skein that barely kept her warm.

She forced herself to remain calm as the creature stalked towards her, like a cat approaching a mouse. She hit a button on her arm.

An image appeared next to her, the Holover of Ubik. If there were two of them, she had a fifty-fifty chance it would attack him first. It might not save her but it would buy her a little time. She could run, find somewhere to hide. Something.

The droid stopped. Its one big eye dilated. It didn’t attack either of them, it sat down and made a strange rumbling sound. It tried to touch Ubik with its paw and seemed confused when the paw passed through the Holover. Then it lowered its head and just stared at the Holover.

It recognised him.

Chukka slipped the control panel off her arm and left it on the ground with the emitter facing up. She slowly backed away and manoeuvred around the fixated droid. She had to climb over slippery, mangled bodies but she worked in Public Relations, climbing over corpses to get where she needed to be was part of the job. She made it to the rear of the creature and then she ran.