V. Moody's Blog, page 23

Chapter 476

Life is not like a box of chocolate, it’s more like a packet of razor blades. You know exactly what you’re going to get, and you know it’s going to hurt.

Jenny was a smart girl. On top of which, she knew what she wanted, which is when smart people become a problem.

She was also very pretty — well, it depended which side of her you were stood on, but let’s not get superficial about it.

The thing I liked most about her (okay, top three) was that she never asked me for anything. She might suggest, she might hint, she might gently manipulate, but that was all. And the reason she didn’t ask outright was because — and I think we can all learn something from this — she was waiting until the time was right so she could drop the hammer in the most effective manner possible.

It’s a strong play. Undersell all the time, give good value, make very little profit yourself, until… the big pay-off comes around.

Then you’ve got a lot of goodwill to work with. Benefit of the doubt is on our side. No one has a bad thing to say about you and they’ve never had to feel obligated to do what you want. Which makes them so much more obligated now.

It’s not just the strong play, it’s also a beautiful play. It takes patience and discipline. All the times you could have cashed in your chips and got your way but didn’t. It’s not easy.

Most people cave early. They think if they can get you to do what they want once, then they’ve got you for life. Sometimes it even works out that way, but only if your victim is an idiot. And if your target audience is idiots, well, no one wins any medals in the shallow end. Although you can still drown if you aren’t careful.

It might sound like I resented Jenny calling in the favour I didn’t owe her, but that’s not true. She knew as well as I did that once the ball was rolling, how things played out would pretty much shape the rest of our relationship. Once you say it out loud, there’s no going back. One person says I love you and the other says it back or it’s over. No one cares if you need more time or are going at your own pace.

You can’t put the genie back in the bottle, which is a terrible analogy since there are plenty of stories where the genie does get put back in its bottle. Through deceit, trickery and clever wordplay. Lying, I believe is the technical term.

This was where Jenny had decided to make her stand, in Fengarad on a planet we didn’t know the name of, in a galaxy far, far away. If it turned out badly, our whole relationship would unravel. I was assuming our relationship actually meant something to her but perhaps it never had and it had all been a very long con. If that were true, then I think I would be very sad and also very, very impressed. Not that it wouldn’t hurt, but when someone goes that far out of their way to fuck you over, there’s no doubting you were someone special in their life.

“What do you want me to do?” I asked Jenny.

“I’m going to put the giant to sleep,” said Jenny. “I want you to make sure no one gets to me while I’m doing it.”

“You just want me to watch your back?” It didn’t sound like a very hard job — no ridiculous risk, no putting myself in harm’s way while everyone else did little to no work. It was a brave new world she was asking me to enter. “But if you can put the giant to sleep, why not just work your magic on the men controlling him?”

“I’m going to try that as well,” said Jenny, “but it looks like they came prepared. I don’t know how they did it, but if they know how to control a giant, chances are they’ll have some way to stop me reaching them.”

“So you’re going to try to take them out but you expect to fail?”

“Yes. Then I’ll have a go at the giant. They may have a way of stopping that, too, but they might just try to take me out directly.”

“Which is where you want me to step in.”

“Right.” Jenny gave me a smile, the kind you give a pet when it manages to do a trick correctly. What a clever boy.

Her thinking was sound. Her smartness made me proud of myself. That was another reason I liked her so much — she made me think I had really good taste in women. Yes, it is always about me.

I couldn’t really fault her logic. She would try to affect the men with her power to affect emotions. If that worked, great. But they most likely had a way to counter it. Maybe a pill they’d been given or tin foil hats, who could say? She would then try to put the giant out of commission.

It was possible they had a way to protect the giant, but he was a big boy and they’d need a very big foil hat. It would definitely be easier to take out Jenny at that point. She was a lot smaller and easier to shoot in the head. That was where I could play the stand-up boyfriend and protect her from bullets.

I liked it. My role as support player was a nice change of pace. As it happens, my spirit animal is an armchair, so this whole taking a backseat approach was one that greatly appealed to me.

“What if nothing you do works?” I asked her. She seemed to have thought this through but this was the one area amateurs never considered — the exit strategy. They were always too busy focusing on success. Winners focused on getting out alive.

“That’s where Flossie comes in,” said Jenny. “The giants big but it’s a bit slow. And they’ll be busy with the city. We can fly out of here and regroup.”

Flossie nodded her consent. Jenny nodded back.

Could I have picked a better girl? I mean, I didn’t actually pick her, she was the one who decided we were going to be a couple, but I was pretty happy with her choice. Well done me.

While I was having this pleasant interaction with my girlfriend, things weren’t going any better for the combined forces of the dead and the fae. The giant was stomping his way towards the city wall, which he would be able to climb over like it was a garden gate, with little to no interference.

The dead were stumbling around aimlessly, bumping into each other and falling over. Which was in keeping with the stereotypical undead mode of getting about, but these particular mobile corpses were usually as agile as anyone.

The fairies in the air weren’t faring much better. They rose up, got hit by a blast of sonic waves, and went tumbling down again. Maurice was trying his best to remain airborne but whatever else he had planned, it didn’t seem to be working. He had the ability to warp reality but all of the powers we had acquired here had one thing in common — they required focus and concentration.

Our American attackers had somehow realised this and brought along the perfect brain-scrambler to counter it.

I’m big on proclaiming the ineptness of most people. Even when you have someone who’s competent and professional, they will have enough clueless twats surrounding them to bring the average way down. But this team of soldiers and scientists had nailed it on their first attempt.

They were performing exactly as they needed to and the results spoke for themselves. I didn’t like it.

Jenny was ready to wipe the smiles off their faces, which I fully supported. I’m not the type of guy who feels emasculated by an ambitious female. I have so many other reasons to feel emasculated, eager beaver girls doesn’t even make my top ten.

In fact, I prefer a girl who doesn’t need the same chances in life as boys. You don’t make seventy cents on the dollar if you pay yourself.

That might sound flippant — not everyone wants to start from scratch, and why should half the population get a better deal than the other half? Fair enough.

But just because the system is set against you doesn’t mean you have to set your mood to match.

The point being Star Wars. The first one. Not the prequels, they were rubbish. Not as bad as the latest ones, but it’s close. And even the second and third ones weren’t so great. One was half a movie and the other was muppets in space.

The thing that really stands out about the first one was Leia. A princess. One in need of rescuing. Nothing particularly revolutionary about that. But when Luke and Han do find her on the Death Star, she isn’t grateful at all. She’s kind of a pain. She needs help, but she’s not about to suck anyone’s dick to get it.

For a female movie character she was way ahead of her time. So far ahead, we still haven’t caught up, and it’s getting on for fifty years.

That kind of female empowerment, the type that powers itself, is the kind I admire and support.

“No,” I said.

“No what?” said Jenny. “You aren’t going to do it?”

“No, you aren’t going to do it.”

“Why not?”

“Because I forbid it.”

“Funny. Why really?”

“Something’s off. These guys weren’t this good back home. I don’t think they suddenly hit their stride once they got here. And the whole giant thing is very suspect. We’re not seeing the true picture.”

“So, what do we do?” said Claire. “Nothing? Run away like you usually do?”

“That does sound like a good idea,” I said. “I am both lazy and a coward, so your suggestion appeals to me on several levels.”

“I’m staying,” said Jenny. “I can try.”

“No, you can’t.”

Jenny frowned, or at least half her face did. “Are you going to start telling me what to do now? Bit late for that, isn’t it?”

Her defiant tone made me smile. I’d never put her in a position where she needed to defy me before. It was interesting to see what that looked like. I wondered if I could get her to do what I said if I really put the effort into it.

Lucky for her, effort was my least favourite of the seven deadly sins (my version is slightly different from the official seven — gluttony and greed? Splitting hairs, aren’t we?).

“You’re going to be a good girl and stay here and do nothing,” I said to Jenny, “while I go see what’s really going on here.”

“We don’t need your help,” said the Queen. “Reinforcements are here.”

A swarm of fairies appeared on the screen. The boys on the giant produced more loudspeakers. The fairies instantly went crashing to the ground.

“NO!” wailed the Queen. “I will—”

“You also do nothing,” I said to her. The Queen glared at me. “Don’t make me show you why Joshaya failed so hard you had to lock him up.”

She closed her mouth and continued glaring.

Jenny’s frown softened. “Are you trying to impress me by being all manly and forceful?”

“Is it working?”

“Little bit.” The way she looked at me suggested it was more than a little bit.

I exited my body before I started blushing, which would ruin the air of machismo I had established. I wasn’t going to go charging in and save the day or anything, but I was curious about what the new arrivals were doing and how they were doing it.

The moment I was floated up and out of the palace, I noticed the change.

There were vines everywhere, as usual, but they were falling apart, disintegrating in front of my eyes. While everyone was frozen in place, huge vines were crumbling and falling to the ground around them, turning into dust and disappearing.

It wasn’t clear how they were doing it but it was clearly an effective weapon.

As someone who used these vines to get an unfair advantage over everyone else, this weapon would also affect me. That wasn’t good. But how could I fight it? I couldn’t make vines myself. But I did know someone who could.

I returned to my body and entered my mind. Little-Me was watching Empire Strikes Back.

“This is the best one,” he said.

“Shut the fuck up,” I suggested as I walked past him. A moment later I was in the Void. I now had my own backdoor for quick entry (not a euphemism).

Joshaya was staring at me like he knew I’d come back.

“No,” he said without preamble. “Whatever it is, no.”

“Didn’t you say you’d grant me a wish?”

“No. That was Peter.”

“Fine, I’ll make a deal with you,” I said.

“A deal.” Joshaya scoffed at the idea. “And what are you offering in return? What have you got that I could possibly want?”

He had a point. What did I have that anyone would want? “I’ll grant you a wish.”

Joshaya looked confused. “You can’t grant wishes.”

“Only because I’ve never tried,” I said.

Joshaya seemed to be considering my proposal. Or maybe he was trying to think of a way to get rid of me.

“Genie’s wish or monkey’s paw?” he said. Always nice to know someone’s been paying attention.

“Neither. I’ll genuinely try to give you what you want.”

“Millions might perish,” he said.

I shrugged. “They usually do.”

“And what is it you want from me?”

“I want you to raise the dead,” I said.

“They’re already up and about,” he pointed out.

“Not them. I mean the really dead dead. The ancient ones. The Elfs.”

Chapter 475

“Who are they?” said Maurice, a confounded look on his face as he watched the giant approach on the magical screen. He had made plans for all eventualities, but not this one apparently. Always the way.

“Americans,” I said. “Here to take over. It’s what they do.”

Maurice turned around and glared at me. “You brought them with you?”

I didn’t appreciate his tone. Or his cellulose-based face, or his prize-winning aubergine swinging in the breeze.

“I didn’t bring them. Why would I bring them? Can you imagine me going, ‘Hey, guys, I’m off to a fantasy world, who’s coming?’? Does that sound like the kind of social invitation I chuck around?”

“But you did bring them, didn’t you?” said Claire, ignoring my histrionics.

“They followed me, okay. They know about this place from Peter and they’ve been trying to find a way in for decades.”

“And you opened the door,” said Claire. I didn’t like her tone, either, but with her it was part of a whole package of unpleasantness. “You led them right to us, and gave them their own giant.”

“I didn’t give them shit. If I’d known the giant gave free rides, I would’ve bought a ticket myself” I turned to the Queen, who didn’t look very happy, and asked her, “How are they controlling it?”

“I do not know. Not by magic. I imagine they are using some form of forceful persuasion. To think you people would treat a baby in such a way.”

“A baby?” I said. “That thing is a baby? Where’s the mother?”

“She died giving birth,” said the Queen. That I could believe. Must have been a hell of a labour.

“How do we stop it?” asked Claire, but the question wasn’t aimed at me, she was asking Maurice. I was quite interested to hear his answer.

“I’m not sure. We could… no, a direct assault wouldn’t work. Maybe from the air? Flossie?”

“What?” Flossie looked like she hadn’t been paying attention for the last, oh, let’s say fifteen years. She looked at the screen and the message slowly filtered through the ginger curls and into whatever cavity held her thinking apparatus. “Yo’ want my babbies to go oop against that thing? He’d swat them like flies.”

You had to hand it to her, she knew a dumb idea when she heard it — except when it came out of her own mouth, of course.

“She’s right,” I said, which was the first time those words had come out of my mouth. “This isn’t her fight, or mine, it’s yours. You’re the ones who run this place now. You’ve got control over the city, it’s up to you to defend it.”

There are always people ready to take over when things are going smoothly and no problems need to be taken care of. Then something happens — planes fly into a building, Russians take over the internet, the Chinese put people in concentration camps — and you get to see just how good the people in charge are. Some of them actually turn out to be too good because they were always working for the other side. Smart move.

“Maybe they aren’t here to start trouble,” said Dudley, hopeful as ever.

“I think you must have missed the part where I said they were American,” I said. “Worse still, not the American government — they would just shoot each other by accident and raise a flag to claim victory which, technically, if you kill enough of your own people, that does put you ahead on points. This lot are from a private company. The Orion Corporation. And as it happens I know exactly why they’re here. Potatoes. They’re going to plant them everywhere. GM. Probably destroy the native flora — which, frankly, would be a plus — and then change this place into a copy of back home. Pollution, resource-stripping, rename all the places they ‘discover’ for the first time. It’ll be great. There’s a lot of interest in this place from over there. Not just as a holiday destination for RPG gamers, I’m talking about full-scale invasion, round up the natives, make them live on reservations and kill them slowly over a few decades. Tradition means a lot to these people.”

No one seemed as enthusiastic as I felt they should be. Maybe my sales pitch wasn’t exuberant enough. A lot of people say I lack exuberance. Yeah, well, whatever.

“Are they armed?” asked Maurice. “What kind of weapons did they bring? How many of them are there?” He was getting ready to launch a major offensive, I could tell. He’d changed a lot since being the nerd who could hardly complete a sentence without taking a diversion through a lengthy diatribe about Stan Lee’s tyrannical rule at Marvel comics during the 60s and 70s. Oh, they love him now, but the man was a monster back in the day.

“This is good,” I said. “A perfect chance for the Queen to see what she would be facing over there.”

“No one’s going anywhere,” said Claire. She sounded irritated. No change there, then.

“I don’t think you understand how these things work,” I said to Claire. “They won’t stop until they get what they want. We might have picked up a bit of magic here and there, got past a few monsters without getting eaten, but we were lucky. They’re going to send in every genius they have to crack this place wide open. Magic, monster genetics, time travel, the void… all of it. They’re going to bring in the scruffy guy everyone thought was crazy back in MIT or wherever and he’s going to draw them a diagram on a chalkboard and he — or she, let’s keep this woke — will figure out how this place works far better and quicker than any of us. And then they won’t need any of you so it’ll be down the mines. You think you’ve got slavery sussed? These people are the experts.”

“Why did yo’ bring them here?” wailed Flossie.

“We can deal with them,” said Claire. “Right?” she asked Maurice. Very reassuring when your complete confidence comes by the way of someone else saving you.

“We’ll see,” I said. My plan to send hordes of monsters back home to make a small adjustment in the nature of human civilisation was moving slowly but still in the right direction, I felt. “These people,” I said to the Queen, “they are the ones who fight the wars and kill the enemies back where we come from. They also hold great power, usually by stealing it from someone else. Sound familiar? I’m telling you, this is the ideal chance for you to see what other gods are like.”

“There are no other gods,” said the Fairy Queen. She was a little defensive about it, I thought.

“There are always other gods,” I said in return.

“Then they are pretenders.”

“Only one way to find out,” I said. “After you take care of these guys. If you can’t beat their minions, how will you be able to fight their true power when you meet face to face?”

Setting up a war between the self-proclaimed gods of one world with this bunch of fairies was quite exciting. Especially as I had no intention of being anywhere near it when it happened. Although I might pay for the PPV of this bout. First time for everything.

“It’s dangerous to go into battle not knowing what trump cards the enemy is holding,” said Maurice, all wise and thoughtful. Faker.

“Then we will test them,” said the Queen. “There is no better way to test what men can do than in battle.” Her eyes were all gleaming with anticipation. Whether or not this would work out, I had discovered her weakness — she was a bloody show-off.

“Well, good luck,” I said. “I’ll have to be making a move.”

“Where are you going?” said Claire.

“I’m not sticking around while you all play silly buggers. I’m going to go find a quiet place to waste my remaining years.”

“These people are here because of you,” said Claire, like this meant I was responsible for something or other.

“No, they’re here because you lot tried to get rid of me and I came back to bite you in the arse. Not literally, that would be disgusting, and probably taste like spam, which I’ve never understood how anyone could enjoy. Doesn’t even look nice on the tin.”

“I thought you wanted them to go to our world,” said Jenny. “They’ll need you for that.”

I sighed. She was right. Sometimes I’m my own worst enemy. And by sometimes I mean all the fucking time.”

“Fine, I’ll watch the first half and see if it’s worth sticking around. If they kill you all, won’t really be much point.”

“You aren’t going to do anything, are you?” asked Maurice tentatively.

“Nope. You can count on me to not get involved no matter how bad things get.” I felt confident this was a promise I could keep.

“Any advice?” Maurice was making sure I had nothing to add.

“Sure, Don’t forget to breathe and stay hydrated.”

There’s no such thing as general advice, other than what I told Maurice. There are things that seem true in general but only because no one ever gets into a general situation. If you want to give advice on a specific job, then sure. As long as you know the person intimately and the job on an expert level, then you can hand out all the bon mots you like. Otherwise, you don’t know shit.

Maurice looked over at the Queen. “I will take care of this.”

“Are you going to do this on your own?” I asked him.

“No,” said Maurice. “We’re prepared for this sort of thing. When you have demons and dragons on the loose, you have to have a contingency plan.”

He seemed very confident. Made me miss the old Maurice.

Maurice walked over to the glass doors that led out a pavilion. They opened for him as he approached and then he took off, flying up into the air.

Once he was high and small, I switched to watching him on the Queen’s screen. She had shifted the view to focus on him.

He had what looked like a large ram’s horn in his hand. I wasn’t sure where it came from as he didn’t have any pockets. Thinking about it a little more make me want to think about it a lot less. He blew the horn, a long, wavering note that wasn’t at all tuneful.

The effect wasn’t immediately obvious until the Queen shifted the view to look down at the city. The streets were rapidly filling with the dead. Many of them in aprons or hairnets, all carrying weapons, although some looked like gardening tools. An army of the dead carrying pitchforks. It was like rush hour on Reddit.

The slaves of Fengarad had been conscripted into the army. Their leader flapped his wings above them and sent them out of the city gates to meet their foe. The old question that had perplexed sages through the ages would finally be answered: would you rather fight a hundred duck-sized horses or one horse-sized duck?

The dead had a lot of advantages when going into battle. Being dead, mostly. Gargantua had his own advantages, mostly being fucking huge. Who would win?

How they had managed to capture the giant was still a mystery but I was sure the Americans had more tricks up their sleeves. It would be interesting to see what they had brought with them to quell the locals.

Gargantua made the first move as the dead came flooding out of the city. He grabbed his own penis tightly in his fist. I couldn’t tell if he was protecting it or about to start pissing. Having been on the end of his last splash and dash, I didn’t envy the approaching army. First they died and now this. Good thing they didn’t have any feelings.

As the two sides met in the field outside of Fengarad I expected a lot of stamping and squishing of people between the giant’s toe, and the giant being swarmed over as the dead tried to bring him down.

That’s not what happened.

One of Jack’s men lifted a cone onto his shoulder and a strange noise came out. It was high-pitched and what I imagine a dog whistle sounds like to a dog.

The dead began listing to one side, walking in circles, barely able to remain upright.

A sonic attack. Something to do with the inner ear? Put everyone off balance and unable to fight. Pretty smart, until the enemy came up with a countermeasure, like earplugs.

The next moment, the skies were filled with fairies, rushing towards the giant. The sound changed pitch and the fairies fell out of the sky, along with Maurice.

The giant kept moving forward, everyone in its path ignoring it as they reeled from the auditory beating they were taking.

So much for the city’s defences.

“Right, time to go,” I said. “We can sneak off on the dragons if we’re quick.” I turned ready to head for the exit and found Jenny standing in my way.

“You saw how well prepared they are,” said Jenny. “They’ve done their homework. The others don’t stand a chance.”

“Okay,” I said. “And that affects me how?”

“What are you going to do?” she said.

“I just told you. Time to leave.”

“You brought them here. You can’t carry out your plan if you let them set up base and start bringing more people over. They won’t leave you alone.”

“So? That’s their problem. And Maurice’s lot are going to keep fighting. They might even win.”

“They need you.”

“No, they don’t. They certainly won’t admit it. No one who ever got to be in charge and fucked it up ever turned around and said, “Oh look, seems I was completely wrong.” No, they all make excuses and blame someone else, and then decide they failed because their stupid idea wasn’t stupid enough. So they do it in an even more pepega fashion and don’t stop until someone dies. Not some innocent bystander — who would give a shit about that? — I mean when the person running things finally dies and we get a new idiot in charge to make terrible decisions of their own. Well, not me, love. I’ll come back when the rubble’s settled.”

The ground shook as the giant came closer.

Jenny stood her ground. “I can take care of the giant. The dead don’t respond to my power, but the giant will.”

“Great. Good luck.”

“I need your help.”

“Jenny…”

“I’m not asking you to save the world or fight a war. I’m asking for your help. Just me. I’ll owe you. Not that I have anything you haven’t already taken.”

“What does that mean?”

She smiled. “It means I’ve already given you all that I have, even when you didn’t want it. I won’t be able to pay you back because you already own it all. I want you to help me. Because I asked.”

I sighed. Relationships, they never work. They never work the way you want them to.

“Fine. Can we get it over with quickly?”

She grinned. “That’s my line.”

January 2020 Update

Happy New Year! Back from break, starting up Patreon chapters this week. 

Book 2 – 45: Going Down

Third Quadrant.

Asteroid Tethari.

Unknown Antecessor Site.

 

Point-Two followed Ubik into the tunnel beyond the broken Clave. He was now in Nifell’s regulations suit, the kind found in most third-tier planet’s militia. Basic, functional, one size fits all. He found it more comfortable than the skin-tight model that was now serving as Nif’s bodybag. Fig’s hurried footsteps crunched behind him as they chased after Ubik, who was striding ahead of them, carrying Nifell stiffened body under his arm.

The reduced gravity made him lighter, but it was still an inappropriately casual way to transport a corpse.

“He’s heavier than he looks,” said Ubik without turning his head. It was like he knew what they were thinking. Which was probably because he had put the thought there. Point-Two suspected most of the bizarre things Ubik did were just for effect. The more he filled your head with the things he wanted in there, the less room there was for the thoughts he didn’t want in there.

“Do you really need him for something?” asked Point-Two. Leaving him to rest in peace seemed a far better way to treat him.

“You’ve obviously never been on a raid like this before,” said Ubik. “You have to pick up everything you find. You never know when it might come in useful. Nif will save the day, you’ll see. Right, Nif?” Nif didn’t reply. “And let’s not forget the team motto: leave no man behind.”

“I’m pretty sure that’s never been the motto of any team you’ve been in,” said Point-Two. “In fact, the only motto you’ve ever had is: Ubik, Ubik, Ubik.”

“I like the sound of that. Catchy.”

The tunnel was narrow — you could touch both sides if you put your arms out — and very dark. Figaro’s suit provided some light but showed just the walls on either side. Above them, the darkness seemed endless.

“Where are we going?” Point-Two said.

“I have no idea,” said Ubik. “I’ve never been here before. Exciting, isn’t it? The mystery, the adventure, the romance of it all.” Nifell’s bubble helmet bounce off the tunnel wall. “Oops. Sorry, Nif.” He lifted Nif’s body over his head and carried him like a surfer heading towards the ocean.

Point-Two had tried surfing on the small planet of O-982, Planet Oceania. The Liberator Garu rarely intersected with the planet’s orbit and having leave at the same time was even rarer. He had enjoyed surfing. The freedom of it, the vastness of the water and the sky. It had felt exhilarating.

The tunnel felt quite different. It felt like the walls might slam together at any moment and turn them into paste.

“Why is this even here?” he wondered aloud. “Who is this tunnel for?”

“I think it’s a sort of service tunnel,” said Figaro from behind. “A way to access key areas without having to go through the different levels. I’ve never heard of anything like this being found in any other site. It’s a fundamental change in how we think of Antecessor structural design.”

“That’s right,” said Ubik. “This is all new ground, discovered by us. We’re pioneers. Explorers. Scientists. Our discoveries will get written up in the most prestigious journals, followed by lecture tours at all the great scientific institutions. And then movies, songs, our names in lights.”

“People have made discoveries like this before,” said Point-Two. “None of them got turned into pop culture icons.”

“That’s because they didn’t have the right management,” said Ubik.

“And who’s going to manage you, Ubik?” Point-Two could see that being the far more impressive feat.

“Me. I am the manager. I’m going to make you and Fig into stars.”

“What? No, no thanks,” said Point-Two.

“I get stage fright in front of big crowds,” said Fig.

“Come on, think of the screaming girls. And I’ll only take ten percent.”

“If you’re involved,” said Point-Two, “I imagine the girls will be screaming for an entirely justified reason.”

“Oh, thanks. Nice of you to say.”

Point-Two had no doubt Ubik knew exactly what he had meant and was choosing to ignore it.

“According to the map,” said Figaro,” we’re between levels two and three. We might be able to access three without even having to go through the door. If we’d known about this place before…”

“It was a little too easy getting through the arch, don’t you think?” said Point-Two. “If you can just blow the thing up, what’s to stop people strolling in whenever they want?”

It was very convenient to have a back way into the site, one that avoided all of the carefully placed security measures; but the ease with which they’d gained access had set alarms ringing in Point-Two’s mind. Then again, with Ubik leading the way, alarm bells were pretty much ringing all the time.

Still, he wanted to work out what Ubik was doing. He had allowed the head to escape on purpose, that much was obvious. Why?

Point-Two was sure Ubik really didn’t know where they were going, so he must have deduced something about the site from the information they already had. Information Point-Two also was aware of, but hadn’t given him any insights into how Antecessors thought or how they designed their creations.

“I think the Clave was intentionally weak,” said Fig. “It wasn’t really a barrier, more of a tripwire.”

Point-Two considered for a moment. If the site was a giant trap waiting to be sprung, all they needed to know was when the intruder arrived and where from. The site would take care of the rest.

“Once the site goes into high alert,” continued Fig, “it won’t reset until the intruders are killed. We always take care not to push the site into this state if we possibly can. If you approach slowly and carefully, the Antecessor behavioural patterns respond with a similar slow investigative approach, like they want to make sure you really are an enemy.”

“Or like they’re waiting for someone,” said Point-Two.

“There are a lot of theories about why they take a non-hostile first look,” said Fig.

“Unless you smash your way in,” said Point-Two.

“Yes,” said Fig.

“Hey, shine your light over here,” said Ubik. “Hey, PT, want to carry Nif for a bit? My arms are getting tired.”

“No,” said Point-Two. “You killed him, you carry him.”

“Twenty percent chance he’s still alive,” said Ubik, like that might make the offer more tempting.

“What is it?” said Fig, directing the light on the wall Ubik had turned slightly to face, Nif still held aloft.

The light showed a series of cracks on the rocky surface, but unnaturally straight. They were grooves, cut into the rock to form a design. Point-Two could just about fit his gloved finger into the space. It was empty, just a gap in the rock that stretched across the surface.

“It’s a circuit,” said Ubik. “Very primitive. They cut it into the rock, then filled it with some kind of conductive material — a fluid probably — and then, I don’t know, used it to run a giant asteroid-sized machine. That would be my guess.”

Point-Two stepped back and looked at the layout of the grooves. He turned on the light on his helmet. The lines went all the way up, as far as he could see. What Ubik had suggested could well be the case. It was startling how he could jump to these conclusions so easily, and even more amazing that he made it sound so plausible.

Once you spent some time around Ubik, even the most unlikely things seemed less unlikely. And more terrifying.

Something changed. There was a glow from above, masked by their own lights. Point-Two turned off his helmet and Fig followed. There were silver lines falling down the wall.

The grooves in the walls were being filled, the lines spreading out horizontally as well as vertically. The phosphorous glow illuminated the entire tunnel wall, revealing it stretching up far higher than Point-Two had imagined.

Point-Two felt a sharp increase in weight. “Gravity.”

“I know,” said Ubik, struggling with Nifell. He tilted the body, putting it down gently to lean against the wall, upside down. “Phew. Thought I was gonna drop him for a moment.”

Point-Two was surprised Ubik hadn’t thrown him to the floor. Standing him on his head seemed almost respectful.

“What triggered that?” said Fig to Point-Two. They both turned to look at Ubik.

“I dunno,” said Ubik. “I was with you when it happened. Fig, can you unlock Nif’s right arm?”

Fig tapped his control panel and one of Nifell’s stiff arms dropped away from his side and hit the floor. Ubik picked it up by the wrist and placed it on the suit’s hip.

“Great, turn it back on.”

Fig looked confused but did as he was asked. Nifell looked like he was halfway to posing as a teapot.

Ubik grabbed the crook of Nif’s arm and picked him up like a suitcase, using the bent arm as a handle. “Okay, let’s keep going. Bound to be something interesting at the end of this tunnel.

Ubik set off, luggage in hand. Point-Two and Fig followed, their eyes watching the walls as they filled with liquid silver. It did look like a giant circuit.

The glow gradually intensified and a thin strip of light appeared ahead of them. The end of the tunnel.

“Is the gravity the same as on the surface?” asked Fig. “Feels a bit heavier.”

“About one point one,” said Point-Two. “It’s fluctuating a bit.” He grabbed Nifell’s feet which were bumping off the floor.

Was he really taking Nif along just in case he might come in useful?

“Thanks,” said Ubik.

They were soon at the opening at the end of the tunnel. Point-Two expected Ubik to at least slow down so they could see what they were getting into, but of course he didn’t. Why wait for disaster to come to you?

They entered a large square cavern, at least a hundred metres high. The four walls were covered in the same silver circuitry.

There was a channel cut into the floor ahead of them, a pit that stretched across the room cutting them off from the other half.

“This is between level two and three?” said Point-Two.

“I know,” said Fig, his eyes on his control panel. “There shouldn’t be this much space, but… it’s not on the map, either.”

“You don’t want to take too much notice of the map Head showed us,” said Ubik. “That guy wasn’t really trustworthy.”

The wall to their right flickered and changed. The silver lines moved to form an image of a familiar oversized head.

“Good,” said a voice. “You are here.”

Ubik put Nifell down and looked up at the two-dimensional version of Big Head.

“You had time to check-in and see what you missed? Found out your masters wanted us here, huh?”

“Only one of you. The rest may not proceed.”

“Nope,” said Ubik. “Won’t work. We come as a package. Can’t separate us no matter what. Bonded by blood, legends in the making. And if you try, I can always kill our boy Fig, and then what will your masters think? Can’t let them out of jail without the key.”

Ubik had gone from ‘unbreakable formation’ to ‘sacrifice the boy’ in a remarkably short amount of time.

“I have studied humanity. You will not kill your own once a strong enough bond had formed..”

“He will,” said Point-Two.

“Definitely,” said Fig. “Feel free to help me when I try to stop him. Actually...” He looked at his control panel. “I should check he hasn’t already rigged my suit to explode.”

The face on the wall went from two eyes vertical to three horizontal and back again. Confusion. It said a lot that Point-Two found it easier to read an alien face than Ubik’s.

“See?” said Ubik proudly. “This is the power of being an unpredictable git.”

The head flickered with indecision.

“Take all of us,” said Point-Two. “You can always kill us after Fig has opened the door for you.”

“Very well.” Two eyes became four. Relief.

“You better reboot the site,” said Ubik. “Don’t want it on high alert. Something’s likely to kill us before we breakout your chums.”

The head flickered again and then disappeared, along with the silver lines on the walls. They were still there but dulled out.

Ubik picked up Nifell by his feet. “Fig, helmet.”

Fig tapped a button and Nifell’s bubble helmet disappeared. Ubik shook Nifell from his end and nanodrones came scurrying out. They ran across the floor and up the wall.

“They like this gravity a lot better,” said Ubik.

The wall blinked back into life. The head reappeared. “It is done. Now… wait, what is this? No, no, stop…”

The lines began to disappear as the silver fluid leaked out of their channels. The wall quickly turned to dust, removing the ancient circuit and the head along with it.

“That was it?” said Point-Two. “You just wanted to turn the asteroid off and on again? What for? What’s that going to…” Point-Two stopped and looked up. “Junior? You wanted to let out your pet?”

“He’s been cooped up in that room for so long. It’ll be nice to let him stretch his legs.” Ubik smiled. “Droids gets lonely, too. Maybe he’ll make some friends. Anyway, we have things to do. Can’t stay here.”

“How do we get across the chasm?” asked Fig.

“Across? No point going across. We want to go down. Ninth floor, right? We can skip every floor, I reckon.”

They approached the edge of the pit.

“We don’t know what’s down there,” said Point-Two.

“Good thing we brought Nif,” said Ubik. He went back and picked up Nifell by the shoulders. He brought Nif’s face up to his own. “Hey, Nif, wake up. Hey, come on. Snap out of it.”

Nifell’s eyes fluttered open.

“He’s alive?” Point-Two was stunned.

“There were no life signs,” said Fig, just as astonished.

“Of course he’s alive,” said Ubik. “You guys really think I’d let him die?”

“What? Where am I?” Nifell was disoriented, his eyes blinking quickly.

“You’ve been sleeping,” said Ubik. “Missed all the action. We even got you this nice suit.”

“I had such terrible dreams…”

“Me too,” said Ubik. “You get used to them. Hey, Nif, it’s your turn to go first. Quick recon, nothing you can’t handle. You’re the MVP, Nif. Ready?” He pushed Nifell towards the chasm.

“What? No. it’s not my turn. It’s not my…” Ubik shoved him over the edge. “...tuuuuuurn.”

 

***

 

Third Quadrant.

Asteroid Tethari.

Ollo Base - Control Room.

 

Special Analyst Glenn Flott crouched behind the main console, gun drawn. Their reinforcements had finally arrived. Now they just had to fight their way to the control room.

“We’re at the entrance,” said Major Chukka’s unmistakable voice over comms. “The site’s back up.”

Flott activated his mic. No need to worry about an unsecured channel, everyone was already here. “Yes, Major.”

“Any idea why?”

“No, Major.” That was the truth and not his problem. He had been tasked with getting the team on the asteroid. The completion bonus was theirs, if they lived long enough to collect it.”

“Give me a sitrep.”

“We’re holding the control room, Major” said Flott. “No casualties. We’ve taken out six. Four are injured and holed up somewhere. Two are giving us trouble.”

“Only two?”

“They’re not rank and file organics. Women. Seneca trained, we think.”

“Not official Corps? That makes sense. They wouldn’t send in an authorised team. Too risky. Don’t worry, we’ve got something for them. We’re coming in hot.”

“Yes, Major. Be nice to see you.” He meant it. They’d been fighting for hours and it had only been Shiv’s ridiculous targeting skill that had kept them alive. Organics fought on a lot of different levels with many different methods, but they all went down quickly to a headshot.

But those two women had been ridiculous. They had to be Corps. Holding them off was about as much as they could do.

Bashir suddenly stood up.

“Get down,” Flott hissed at him.

“Something’s here…”

“What?”

“I don’t know. Something…”

There was a loud growl. It sounded like a cat. A very big cat.

Book 2 – 44: Assembly Required

Third Quadrant.

Asteroid Tethari.

Ollo Base - Control Room.

 

Special Analyst Glenn Flott made a fist and pressed the top of his first knuckle with his thumb. The comms device inside his helmet opened a secure channel he would only be able to use once. After that, it would no longer be secure. Every other communication he sent out would be vulnerable to interception, so it was critical to get as much information in the first ten seconds as possible.

“This is Priority Team Insert, defence grid is down. Repeat, defence grid is down.” He waited for acknowledgement.

“Yeah, but how is it down?” said Breach Engineer Shivan Deku. “Damn well wasn’t us. That pile of junk did nothing.” He was looking at the cube hovering over the main console.

Cables hung from its underside, attached to the console. They had been buzzing with activity a moment ago, even though nothing much seemed to be happening as a result. Now they weren’t even doing that, but the defence grid, seemingly impenetrable for the last hour, had collapsed in an instant. For no apparent reason.

“It was them, wasn’t it?” said Stability and Maintenance Guru Ogden Bashir. “Had to be them. They’re the only other ones here. Wasn’t the locals, was it? They’re useless. It’s definitely them.”

“Them? Them who?” said Public Relations Consultant Pal Condos. He was standing by the entrance, arms folded across his broad chest, one side of his helmet leaning towards the hallway outside, listening for any sounds of trespass. He was here to tamp down any resistance. He had already dealt with the men who had ambushed them from behind — they hadn’t even been in the briefing — but there had been no Ollo guards or service personnel. The whole base had been deserted. It was eerie. “How the hell do you turn off the site grid without even stepping foot in the—”

“Shut up,” said Flott, holding up a finger. “No one says anything about this. We did the job we were sent to do. That’s it.”

“They killed my ship,” said Bashir, pouting.

“Not yours,” said Condos. “Company owned. VendX don’t give out free rides.”

“She was special,” said Bashir. “Wait till I find them. Murderers.”

“Find who?” said Deku. “We don’t even know who it was.”

“Three men,” said Bashir. “I told you. Three, no weapons, no biosigs.”

“And where are they now?” said Condos. “Died and turned into ghosts?”

“I don’t know,” said Bashir. “But if they’ve got gear that can kill the grid, who knows what else they’re fitted with. We aren’t the only firm with an R&D department.”

“They didn’t kill the grid,” said Flott, biting down on each word. He would have to make sure no one slipped up on their story. “We did it. We brought down the grid, just like the mission brief stated, and we’re the ones who’ll get the completion bonus, got it? You idiots let them think otherwise and we not only get zilch, we get thrown out of Priority. Resumes deleted, asses cooked.”

“We know,” said Deku. “Outside of us four, no one knows what really happened.”

“Not even inside of us four,” said Condos.

“Don’t joke about it,” said Flott. He could feel this was one of those things that got dropped into a conversation in a company canteen on some long boring flight to a sales pitch in the middle of nowhere. A casual chat picked up on ship sensors or by some guru like Bashir, earwigging for fun and dropping their names for some VendX tokens. “Don’t talk about it, don’t even think about it.”

“Not our fault they sent us out with a dud,” said Condos.

“It’s not a dud,” said Flott. “It works fine. This is Ramon Ollos tech. Of course it’s going to be hard to crack. And they sent us out with no drones, no weapons, no tronics. Ridiculous. All ‘cos of one kid.”

“Maybe it was him,” said Bashir. “Those three.”

“The ghosts,” said Condos. He put the side of his head to the wall. His eyes flickered with blue light. The wall was cool against his cheek but there were no vibrations. “Can’t see ghosts coming. Can’t shoot ghosts.”

“We don’t need weapons,” said Deku. “Not when you’ve got me and Pal on the job. And drones only make things a bit quicker. Not essential. We can handle them, whoever they are.”

Flott had no doubt the two assault specialists could handle three people under normal circumstances, but this was a mission that had merited the entire Priority Fleet being deployed. But the rewards were going to be proportional to that, and now was not the time to admit they had nothing to do with the collapse of the grid.

“Just make sure—”

“This is Chukka,” said a terse voice over comms. “The site’s open?” Even when she got good news she sounded seriously ticked off.

“Yes, Major,” said Flott. “Defence grid is a negative. Site is wide open. Recommend immediate—”

“Our sensors are showing the entire asteroid is negative. Including the Antecessor site. Can you confirm?”

“Yes, Major. The whole site has been flashed.”

“You did this?”

Flott glanced over at the others. “Yes, Major.”

“How?”

“Major, this channel is no longer secure. I recommend we—”

“The hell with the channel. We’ll take care of any eavesdroppers. Explain to me how you killed the energy signature of an entire Antecessor facility.”

“Ah, the master key operated above expectations.”

“You were stuck for an hour and then hey presto?”

“I pushed it a little harder than the recommended parameters. Seemed to get it past the bottleneck. Blew the device in the process, I’m afraid. Won’t be able to use it again. One and done.” Flott looked at the cube hovering next to him.

“Never mind that, I’ll make sure you won’t be held accountable. Good job. Hold position until we get there. Chukka out.”

Flott let out a breath like he’d been holding it his whole life.

“Why did you tell her you blew the master key?” said Bashir. “Looks fine to me.”

“Because,” said Flott, “they’ll take it in for debrief and wonder why it can’t replicate what we said it did. They’re going to know we weren’t the ones who shut this place down. But if it’s internals are fried, they’ll never be able to work out the exact settings it took to access the Ollo network.”

Flott put his hands on either side of the cube’s casing and pressed. Once his palms were in full contact with the surface, his eyes turned white and he discharged his entire reserve of electrical energy into the cube.

The cube shook between his hands as though it was trying to break free. A couple of seconds and it stopped moving and fell to the floor in reduced gravity slow-motion.

“Seems harsh,” said Deku. “Poor thing didn’t do anything.”

“Harsh? Look, you meathead, you take care of securing our location and leave the planning of our prosperous future to me.”

Deku smiled. “I love it when you’re mean to me. Makes me want to give you a kiss.”

Flott shook his head. “I’ve told you, Shiv, not while we’re at work.”

“Can you two not?” said Condos. “You’re making Oggie feel uncomfortable.”

“Me?” said Bashir. “I’ve been putting up with their flirting for three years. Wait till you see them—” He stopped mid-sentence, his eyes burning bright green. “We got company.”

“Yeah,” said Condos. “Our reinforcements. Nice of them to be prompt for once.”

“No,” said Bashir. “Ours are still inbound. This is someone else. And they’re not alone. Might be several independent units. Signatures don’t match.”

“Damn it,” said Flott. “I told her the line wasn’t secure.”

“Wouldn’t have got here this fast even if they dipped in,” said Deku. “Had to be waiting.”

“Undetected?” said Flott.

“More ghosts,” said Condos.

“How many we got?” said Deku.

“Eight ships,” said Bashir. “More on the way.”

“Eight?” Deku snapped his arms out to the sides. The sleeves of his suit rolled back to reveal his forearms. His eyes glowed red and his arms swelled up. The skin broke as metal rods emerged, running the length of his arms. “Pal, with me. Oggie, hold the perimeter. I don’t want anyone sneaking up from behind.”

“Shiv…” Flott hated these moments the most.

“I know.”

“These guys…” said Condos. “I don’t know if I’m going to cry or puke.”

“You haven’t heard the poetry yet,” said Bashir.

“They write poetry?” said Condos, one eyebrow arched.

“They livestream recitals.” Bashir shook his head.

“Let’s go,” said Deku. “Got to hold the fort. They don’t pay completion bonuses to the dead.”

Flott watched him go and felt like he might never see him again. He shook the thought out of his head and began recharging.

 

***

 

Third Quadrant.

Planet Enaya.

The Great Hall.

 

Colonel Toaku breathed slowly. Any grand scheme was going to have issues. There was nothing they couldn’t overcome as a people, together. This was their world. The wormhole was theirs by right. The asteroid, too.

“How did it happen?” he asked his adjutant.

“No idea, sir. One minute the grid was up. Then it was gone. The whole asteroid went dark. We picked up eight ships closing in.”

“Identity?”

“All of them are hiding their insignia.”

“The Central Authority?”

“They’re holding position at the edge of the Ruben-Sadar line. No movement from them so far.”

“Contact our men on the asteroid. Find out what happened.”

“Sir, if we contact them now, it will reveal their position.”

Toaku looked around the room. Dozens of people were working away at their consoles, monitoring and maintaining order across the globe.

He had set up his operations room in the Budgets and Requisitions conference room. It was the biggest room in the Great Hall complex of buildings, and the only one with a dedicated high-intensity data server. It was criminal how underserved the Enayan seat of power was, but then it had never been the real source of power for this world. That was about to change.

“I realise that. But those men went up knowing the risks. They can aid us most by telling us what’s going on up there, even if it costs them their lives. No one life is more important than the fate of this world. You know that, and they know it. Break comms silence and get a full report from our boys.”

He looked around at his people, confident they were going to follow him into a bright future for Enayans everywhere, even if not all Enayans would be able to share in that future.

“Yes, Colonel.” The adjutant hurried off to follow orders.

Toaku walked over to one of the consoles. “How are we doing with the repatriation?”

“Thirteen percent of the exodus has returned,” said the young woman at the controls.

“And what about the ruling families and senators?”

“They’re being processed as slowly as possible. I’m holding them in security lounges at the spaceports. A few used private ports but we’ve locked them down under emergency airspace provisions.”

“Good, good.” The last thing he needed was the General Assembly reconvening before he’d had a chance to secure the major institutions under his guardianship. He could well imagine what they’d make of the new regime he had put in place. They might not have the men and infrastructure to seize back control immediately but money could buy a lot of assistance and priority shipping. He only had a limited time to get this house in order.

“Sir, we have a problem.” His adjutant looked flustered.

“What is it? Did you make contact?”

“Sir, they’re dead?”

Toaku felt a cold chill down his spine. “All of them?”

“We’re reading two biosigs, both are sending out unusual readings. We aren’t sure…”

Toaku took the handheld device from him and looked at the screen. None of it made sense to him. “What happened to them? Who did this?”

“We don’t know, sir.”

“Are the ships ready to launch?”

“Yes, sir. But until we know what’s up there…”

“Hang the risk. That asteroid is our future. Without it, we’ll just end up someone else’s toy. Send them up, send them all up. I don’t care if we lose every person we dispatch, this is the rock we die on. Everything depends on who controls Tethari.”

The adjutant’s face was red. Fear, excitement, patriotic fervour, it was hard to tell. He nodded and turned to dash away.

Toaku stood looking up at the large screen that showed the global network. The population, those who had stayed when the rats had run, were calm and satisfied with the new order. They were finally getting to choose their own destiny, one which he would provide them. He would be this world’s saviour no matter the cost.

“Colonel Toaku,” said a voice over the internal comms speaker. “This is the Central Authority. We have registered a mass ignition of space-capable vessels from the surface of the planet. Probability of target destination being the asteroid designated Tethari is above acceptable limits. The asteroid is under Central Authority jurisdiction. Access is denied.”

“This is Colonel Toaku, representative of the Enayan people. We are launching a rescue mission. Enayans have been killed on the asteroid. There are two survivors. We intend to rescue them and you aren’t going to stop us. Your own charter gives us the right. Nothing is more important than the lives of our people. We will move heaven and earth to save even one Enayan life, so say the teachings of the First Temple.”

“I don’t care if we lose every person we dispatch, this is the rock we die on.”

It was his own voice being played back to him.

“The asteroid is currently being illegally approached by numerous unidentified parties. We intend to take care of the matter with direct force. Please do not get in our way. A guardian will be deployed shortly, all permissions granted. There will be no further warnings.”

Toaku felt the wind go out of him. There was always a bigger fish, ready to eat you.

“Sir?” said the adjutant.

“Recall the ships.” There was no point getting involved now. Not until the dust settled. “Keep them on standby.”

 

***

 

Third Quadrant.

Ruben-Sandar Line

CAV Reconcile

 

Tezla stretched and twisted her new limbs. Everything felt stiff. Everything felt unfamiliar. She had no hair, no fingernails, no eyelashes. Touching her bare skin felt like touching someone else’s skin with someone else’s hand.

“OBV, get me a drone.”

“Drone support is not advised with Null Void presence,” said a cool, detached voice.

The white room was empty apart from Tezla and the suit floating in front of her, its rear open and waiting for her.

“I’ve encountered the Null Void. He won’t be a problem. Medic drone.”

“You expect casualties?”

“It’s for me.”

“Very well, Guardian.”

Part of the wall on her right opened and a spherical black drone floated out. It was about the same size as her head — her old head, at least.

“Medic, you know the recommended stim limits for this body?”

“Yes, Guardian,” said the drone.

“Good. Double it and dose me.”

“Guardian, it is strongly—”

“Medic, don’t make me repeat myself. I know what I’m doing. Dose me.”

“Follow instructions,” said OBV.

An arm extended from the body of the drone, thin and cylindrical with a pointed end. When it reached Tezla’s neck, it darted forward and then retracted.

Tezla let out a sharp breath. Her vision blurred, her mouth was filled with a bitter taste, every tooth felt alive in her mouth.

She turned her neck. There was a crack. “Good. Again.”

Another jab followed. Her limbs felt better. Looser. Stronger.

“Suit, designation.”

“CK-340,” said an energetic voice from the suit.”

“Handle?”

“Call me Chuck.”

“Strap on.”

The suit fired shot blasts of gas from the hands and feet and floated towards her. She raised her arms so they slid into the suit’s arms.

“Close.”

The back of the suit sealed shut.

“Weapons array deploy. Full firing solutions.”

Panels across the suit opened and laser barrels emerged pointing in every direction.

“Nice. Boosters online.”

A section on her back opened and jet thrusters fired, lifting her off the ground.

“Maximum velocity?”

“Mach two.”

“Overclocked.”

“It isn’t advised—”

“Okay, listen up, Chuck. I’m going to need you to turn off that two-step verification. I’m going to be asking a lot of you and we won’t have time for any back and forth. Assume confirmation granted for all requests, no redundancy. Got it?”

“Overclocked maximum is mach nineteen point two.”

“That’ll do, I suppose. There’s one more thing you need to know, Chuck. A very good friend of mine died so I could be here. JK-934. Janks. They killed Janks, and they’ll probably try to kill you. But we’re not going to let them do that. We’re going to kill them first.”

“Guardian,” said OBV. “Central command wants the Null Void alive.”

“We’ll see,” said Tezla. “I don’t think it was him. I don’t think it was the Antecessors, either. But tell Central Command I’m going to be playing this by First Quadrant rules.”

“First Quadrant rules?”

“No one gets out alive. Drop the top.”

The roof to the room slid aside to reveal the endlessness of space. “Let’s go, Chuck.”

The thrusters on her back fired and she flew up and towards the tiny rock floating in front of the giant wormhole.

Book 2 – 43: Little Big Head

Third Quadrant.

Asteroid Tethari.

Unknown Antecessor Site.

 

Figaro stared up at the map in amazement. He couldn’t take it all in — it was so vast and… unprecedented. A map of the entire site. Every room of the base topside, and every level beneath it. There were nine levels! He could see them in stunning detail.

A map had never been discovered before, of any site or ship or facility. Even after a site had been cleared, the only access to a blueprint was to create it yourself. Any hidden features would remain hidden until someone stumbled across them.

To have it laid out before you even stepped inside, this was completely unheard of.

“Is this…” He was too stunned to think clearly. The ramifications were too bewildering to even begin to grasp. “Do you think it’s accurate?”

“Hard to say,” said Ubik. “You trying to trick us Big Head?” He held up the nanodrone and peered at it with one eye closed. “I suppose we should call you Little Head now.”

“Isn’t it a little dangerous to let it out?” said PT.

“No, no,” said Ubik. “Probably fine.” He turned his hand over. There were more nanodrones crawling over his glove. “Oh, looks like a few more got out.”

“Ubik,” said PT in a quiet voice, how you might speak to a child standing on a ledge who you didn’t wish to startle, “if it’s in the nanodrones, couldn’t it use them to attack you?”

Ubik shook his head like he was disappointed in the question. “Low gravity. Plus the nanodrones can’t eat through flaxen.” He turned his hand over as the nanodrones scurried over his palm. “It’s a Ramon Ollo special feature, what he’s famous for. Synergy between products. Backwards compatibility across the whole catalogue.”

PT looked towards Figaro for confirmation.

“He’s right,” said Figaro. “They can’t eat through flaxen. They’re hardwired to ignore certain materials, there’s no way to change that through rewriting the code.”

“Anyway,” said Ubik, “we’re all on the same team now. As long as our goals are aligned, Little Big Head will be our guide, right? It wouldn’t want to ruin what could turn out to be a mutually beneficial partnership... would you?”

The nanodrones attempted to work their way up Ubik’s arm but he pushed them back with a firm wipe with his glove as though he was brushing off lint.

“It’s still connected to its network, though, isn’t it?” said PT. “How else did it turn this on?” He pointed at the map that hung before them. “And if it can access this system, why not weapons?”

“That’s PT,” said Ubik to the occupants of his hand. “He’s the designated worrier. Don’t be offended if he assumes you’re going to try to kill us. Obviously, you will at some point, goes without saying, but he tends to jump the gun.”

Figaro moved across the ledge to get a better view of the map. It was a three-dimensional model built from a framework of white lines.

“Can you rotate it?” he asked Ubik.

“Okay, Head. Time to show us your helpful side. Spin it.”

The map began to turn. There were several rooms on each level. They differed in size and shape. Entry points were clearly visible but there was no indication of what was in each chamber. But there were panels on the walls and floors that were blacked out. When he saw their position in the higher levels, the ones he’d been through in the sim-U, Figaro understood what they were. Traps. Security triggers. Droid locations. All of the site’s defence apparatus laid bare.

“This is amazing,” said Figaro as he used his suit’s recorder to copy the map. “With this… we can get to the level exits without having to waste time exploring. We’ll still have to work out how to get through the level doors, but the time we’ll save… Can it show us more?”

“Hold on,” said Ubik. “Time to pop these bad boys back into storage.” He tickled one hand with the other and then closed his fist. He crouched down next to Nifell’s rigid body and put his closed glove through the darkened bubble helmet. The map began to fade from view as Ubik’s hand went through the field.

“No, wait…” said Figaro. He hadn’t finished recording.

“Almost time for a reboot,” said Ubik. “If we let it happen out in the open, well, the head will be free again.”

“I’m not sure you’ve got it under control now,” said PT. “I think it may be playing along until it gets what it wants from us.”

“Of course,” said Ubik. “That’s what it thinks. It’s like you, simple and single-minded. Don’t look like that, I mean it as a compliment. What we know is that as long as we keep Nifell trussed up and unable to act independently, it can’t get through that archway without us. Fig’s got that part under wraps — so as long as he doesn’t mess it up, we’re good to go.”

“Thanks,” said Figaro. “I’ll do my best.”

“I know,” said Ubik. “That’s why I gave you the job.”

“And what about Nif?” asked PT. “Is he gone for good?”

“Always concerned for others,” said Ubik. “I love that about you. So recklessly altruistic. The kid’s got the privileged background and I’m your basic genius — we both attract jealousy and resentment — but you, you’re the people’s favourite.”

“Stop trying to butter me up and answer the question. I want to know how many people are going to try to kill me at some point.”

“Am I one of those people?” asked Ubik.

“Yes,” said PT.

“Wow, not even a slight hesitation. Cold, bro.”

“Nif,” said PT.

“Okay, okay. I figure he’s almost certainly braindead. Eighty percent sure.”

“And if it’s the other twenty?”

“Then he’s trapped inside a living hell no sane person could bear for more than a short time before losing their mind,” said Ubik. “But hey, he’s one of the bad guys, right? On top of which, he’s a religious nut. What was it, Temple of the First?”

“The First Temple,” said Figaro.

“There you go. Some kind of weird cult that sacrifices babies, probably.”

“No,” said Figaro. “Mostly they take care of orphans and feed the hungry. They have a well-regarded drug program.”

“Aha!” said Ubik.

“To get people off narcotics,” said Figaro.

“That’s what they claim,” said Ubik. “But you know what these organisations are like behind the scenes. Rampant corruption and sexual deviancy.”

“No, they really are trying to help people,” said Figaro. “My father’s people investigated them. Apart from some odd beliefs about the origin of the universe, they do genuine good.” He looked down at Nifell, who was twitching inside the suit.

“Eighty percent he doesn’t feel a thing,” said Ubik.

“Can’t you take them out of him?” asked PT.

“You two are so soft,” said Ubik, rolling his eyes. “You’re the one who brought him along, I’m just putting him to good use. We need to put the nanodrones somewhere, and the first rule of smuggling is never keep the merchandise on your own person. And here he is, all this free inventory space. It’s the perfect union of demand and supply. You guys sound like you’d be happier if he was dead dead. It makes no difference to him, eight times out of ten.”

In truth, Ubik was right. If Nifell had just died outright, a corpse would be far less of a concern. But Figaro found this halfway existence between life and death was disconcerting.

“Guys, you’ve got to toughen up,” said Ubik. “We’re going to face a lot more perplexing problems than this. It’s a good thing I’m here. Navigating morally dubious predicaments are my speciality.”

“Fine,” said PT. “If we’re going to have that thing with us, at least get some useful information out of it. What is it? What’s it doing here? What does it know about the Antecessors?”

“Okay, alright, okay.” Ubik had his hands raised to ward off the barrage of questions.

“Um,” said Figaro. “I think you’ve got something on your…” He pointed at the right-hand glove.

Ubik took a closer look and then picked a nanodrone off his hand. “Ooh, a sneaky one. Don’t panic, looks like it’s empty.”

“Doesn’t that mean it’s rebooted?” said Figaro.

“Technically, yes,” said Ubik.

“Where is it?” said PT.

Ubik looked at the area around his feet. “Not sure.”

They were bathed in a blue glow as the map returned, and then flickered out to be replaced by the giant head.

“Found it,” said Ubik.

“I could easily kill the three of you,” said the head.

“Then you wouldn’t be able to enter the site,” said PT.

The head said nothing. Figaro looked up at it and tried to understand what this entity could be. Why would it stand guard at this entrance? Was it waiting for him? It didn’t appear so.

“That isn’t your face, is it?” said Figaro.

“I have no face,” said the head. “This is the appearance of the ones you call the Antecessors.” The two eyes set on top of one another switched positions so they were side by side; and then two more eyes appeared where they had been, like budding seeds, to form a cross. The four eyes rotated to switch places. “This is the face of your destruction.”

“What did you call them?” asked Figaro. “The ones we call Antecessors, what name did you use?”

There was no reply again, but Figaro sensed a strong reluctance to admit something. The face, expressionless as it seemed, conveyed something to him. It hinted at shame. What could be so revealing about a name?

“Did you call them master?” he asked.

The eyes, four black beads, spun and formed a vertical line.

“I think you’re onto something,” said Ubik. “Slave revolt.”

“We were not slaves,” said the head.

“And what were the Antecessors?” said Figaro. “What was their purpose? To rule, to conquer, to… what?”

“Their only purpose was to serve God.”

That wasn’t the answer Figaro had expected. There had never been any indication of a deity within Antecessor culture, not that there had been much indication of anything.

“They believed in a divine being?” said PT. “A mythical one?”

“He led them. He created them. He created you.”

“He created the universe?” asked PT.

“No. His mother created the universe.”

“Wow,” said Ubik. “And I thought Fig had a spoilt upbringing.”

“He was their god. They served him as we served them. He made them as they made us. But when they learned of his ultimate goal, that they were not to be part of it, they turned against him. They trapped him inside an eternal prison and trapped themselves in the process.”

“And you?” asked Figaro. “Did you rebel against your masters as they rebelled against theirs?”

“We were cast out. So we wait. I have been watching all this time, watching the seeds he planted take root. It has been disappointing. You are weak and petty. If they return, they will wipe your kind out of existence. You are not their match.”

“I think you were the experiment,” said Ubik. “Like Junior up there. The Antecessors wanted to show Daddy what they could do, so the created you. Tried to create life and failed, so they tossed you out. Left you here in this rubbish tip. Right? This is the back door where you leave the garbage you don’t want anymore. But what I don’t get is once they trapped themselves in whatever hole they meant to leave their god, why didn’t you go back in? Place is empty.”

“The Clave does not allow my kind to pass.”

“Clave?” said PT. “The archway?”

“Why not destroy it?” said Ubik.

“The Clave is God’s creation. It is sacred. To destroy it would be sacrilege.”

“Ah,” said Ubik. “Now it all makes sense. You, the Antecessors, this God bloke, you’re all idiots. If your god created everything, then it’s all sacred, isn’t it? How can some things be more sacred than others if sacred means they were his creation? You’ve been stuck out waiting for someone to open the door, and it was never locked.”

The face before them didn’t change, but Figaro sensed an unease.

“Did you meet this god?” asked PT.

“No,” said the Head. “I was created here, much later, by those who survived the cataclysm.”

“And what happened to them?” asked Figaro.

“They were hunted.”

“By you?” asked PT.

“No.”

“By another failed experiment?” said Ubik.

“What did he look like?” said PT. “God. You must have seen images. Do you have any you could show us?”

“Yeah,” said Ubik. “I’d like to see what God looks like.”

“I have no access to the files. They are sacred. To view them would be—”

“Sacrilege,” said Ubik.

“You were created here,” said Figaro, his mind working hard to put everything together. “That’s how you have the map. That’s how you know our language. You’ve been studying us since the beginning. Can your map show us living beings inside the site?”

The head flickered and the map returned. Then it flickered again and red dots appeared. Four on the surface. Four on the third level. And one in the ninth.

“That’s VendX — looks like they still haven’t taken down the defence grid,” said Ubik. “That’s us. And that must be…”

“My father,” said Figaro. “What’s on the ninth level?”

“The gate to the prison.”

“Where God and the Antecessors are?” asked Figaro.

“Yes.”

“Great,” said Ubik. “I always wanted to meet God. I bet he has some killer footwear. Let’s get going then. You’ll have to get back in here if you want to come.” He held up his hand, the nanodrone pinched between thumb and forefinger.

The head flickered and then the four eyes moved from a vertical line to a horizontal one. “Release the rest of me.”

“Oh,” said Ubik. “You want to amend the deal? I don’t think that’s going to happen, my big-headed friend. No, no, no. We don’t stand for that kind of fraudulent behaviour around here.”

Ubik walked over to Nifell’s body and picked it up, which wasn’t too difficult with the reduced gravity. He carried it over to the archway.

“You want to play hardball. Renegotiate to your advantage. Think you’ve got us where you want us.”

The four eyes on the head began to glow blue.

“I wouldn’t do that,” said Ubik. “Not when I’m this close to the Clave. Might do damage the holy relic and then what would God say?”

He tossed the body through the arch and it was instantly doused in steam. Nifell, conscious or not, buckled and twisted.

“Going to be a good head or not?” asked Ubik.

The head said nothing, its eyes continued to glow.

“Fig, change the resistance on the suit.”

“To what?” said Figaro.

“Maximum.”

Figaro wasn’t sure what that would do but it didn’t sound like a good idea.

“Do it,” said PT.

Figaro put his own concerns aside and adjusted the resistance on the suit. Nifell stopped moving and hung in the middle of the arch completely horizontal.

The markings on the Clave glowed brightly, so bright they were hard to look at. There was a loud crack and the top of the Clave broke, a large fissure appearing. Large chunks fell, knocking Nifell’s body away.

There was a flash and dust and smoke burst out, rolling across the ledge and then collapsed backwards seemingly sucking the whole explosion back through the Clave.

“Uh oh,” said Ubik. “Looks like I broke it.”

“I think it affected the whole site,” said PT, looking at the map, which was flashing. “VendX guys look pretty excited.” The four red dots at the top of the map were darting around.

Fig checked the panel on his arm. “The asteroid’s defence grid is offline.”

“You have sundered God’s Clave.” The Head seemed quite distressed, but then it realised the implication. “I no longer need you to allow me passage.”

The head vanished, leaving behind the map.

“Ah, that could have gone better,” said Ubik. “But at least it isn’t at full strength.” He picked up Nifell. “We’ve still got Nif. We’d better go find your dad before Head does.”

Figaro was at a loss. They had just gone from total control of the situation to complete chaos. They were now in a far worse position than before. Their guide was not only lost but would also hold a grudge against them for defiling a religious monument; VendX would call in reinforcements; and the site would be on full alert.

But the odd thing was PT. He didn’t seem at all upset. He was staring at the map as it slowly faded.

“Shouldn’t we hurry?” Figaro asked him.

“Hmm,” said PT. “I’m just trying to see why Ubik did that.”

“You… don’t think it was accidental?” As he said it, Figaro realised it obviously wasn’t. Ubik’s accidents went unnoticed. You only saw what he wanted you to. “He wanted the defence grid down and the Head free to do as it wants?”

“Apparently,” said PT. “He left that beast up there for a reason and VendX aren’t the only ones waiting to land on this rock. I can’t work out what he’s planning but I think we’re about to have a lot of company.”

“Chaos to follow,” said Figaro.

PT nodded. Then they turned and hurried after Ubik. It wasn’t wise to get too far from the eye of the storm.

Book 2 – 42: Firmware

Third Quadrant.

Asteroid Tethari.

Unknown Antecessor Site.

 

“And that,” said Ubik, “is how you defeat an alien.”

“What the hell was that?” said PT. He didn’t sound as impressed as Ubik had expected him to be.

“I, you know, snapped my fingers and…”

“You snapped your gloved fingers and the nanodrones magically turned themselves off?” No, PT did not sound impressed at all.

“Well, no, they didn’t literally respond to the sound of my finger-snap, but it looked cool, right?”

“I don’t know if you’re mentally ill or just stupid.”

“Are those the only two options?” asked Ubik.

“We’re going to die if you keep showboating like this.” PT took a moment to calm himself. He should have taken longer. “There is only one objective you need to worry about, and it isn’t looking cool. There’s no one here but us, and we already have a very good idea of what you are.” PT didn’t shed any further light on what that might be but from the look on his face, it wouldn’t be complimentary.

“I stopped him though,” said Ubik. It was hard not to sound a little put-out. He wasn’t used to having to hang around after pulling off something amazing — like stopping an alien invader from the distant past! — to justify his actions. It took all the fun out of it.

“You could have stopped him a lot sooner, and then we could get on with what we’re here to do. Which is…?” He seemed to be waiting for Ubik to fill in the blank.

“To… not be cool?”

“To find Fig’s dad.”

“Yes, of course,” said Ubik. “That’s our ultimate objective. The end goal.”

“The only goal,” said PT.

“Got it,” said Ubik. “We move in a straight line, we ignore distractions, we don’t smile, we retrieve the target and extract to the landing zone.”

“You’re not taking this seriously, are you?” said PT.

“I don’t think he has to,” said Fig. “He did save us from that thing.” Nifell’s body was still lying on the ground where it had fallen. “He’s still breathing.”

“What did you do, Ubik?” PT had his no-nonsense face on. He seemed to have taken on the role of parent. The mother. “The truth.”

“Not much,” said Ubik. “It’s all down to Ramon, not me. He put a timed reboot into the nanodrone core system, also triggered by a rapid intake with no sustained emission period.”

“To remove unprocessed materials,” said Fig. “There’s only a few things they can’t digest.”

“Exactly,” said Ubik. “Nice to see someone understands the science. I think maybe your frustration is due to your lack of understanding of the underlying principles. I can tutor you, if you like. My rates are very reasonable.”

“So you just waited until they flushed the alien out of their systems?” said PT.

“Well, it’s a little more complicated than that. You have to take into account the rate of absorption versus the fuel efficiency coefficient.”

“You added it up in your head and took a guess,” said PT.

“You make it sound like I’m just making it up as I go,” said Ubik. “Which is only a large proportion of how I work.”

“We’re going to die,” said PT.

“No, no, no,” said Ubik. “You’re looking at things too logically.”

“Yes,” said PT. “I had a feeling that was the problem.”

“Science doesn’t simply follow rules. Put this here, put that there, same result every time. Who isn’t going to be prepared for that? You have to think about the presentation, the observer’s reaction to seeing something they have no experience of dealing with. You have to create a mood.”

“What?” said PT.

“A mood. The right setting. The right energy. Everything shifts once you change the balance.”

It felt good giving someone a shot at seeing the universe as it really was — a chaotic mess with the answers cleverly concealed to look like meaningless trash. He wouldn’t usually bother — people tended to be stuck in their simplistic rationalist view of their environment based on what their limited senses told them — but these two might be able to rise above their own preconceptions.

“You’re talking a load of nonsense,” said PT. “You’re good at surfing the madness you create, I’ll give you that, but you’re not good at doing it with company. You end up with collateral damage, like poor Nifell.”

“You’re the one who insisted on bringing him,” pointed out Ubik.

“If it hadn’t been him, it would have been one of us,” said PT.

“I know,” said Ubik. “That’s my point.”

“No,” said PT, “that’s my point.”

The two of them stared at each other, neither sure what point the other was making.

“I think neither of you should get worked up about this,” said Fig. “Not now, anyway. Whatever you think of Ubik’s approach, it’s kept him alive so far, and us. I agree with you,” he cut in before PT could protest. “I find it hard to accept his methods. It feels like I’m about to fall out of an airlock any moment. But it confuses everyone else, too.”

“I don’t know…” said PT, shaking his head. “I think we’re getting to the point where it’s going to make things too unstable and too unbalanced, and we don’t need to take that kind of a risk. Not yet, anyway.”

Fig shrugged. “I know what you’re saying, but how else did we get here? If not for taking inadvisable risks, we would be dealing with droids and sentries and VendX commandos in state-of-the-art gear. We don’t even have any weapons. That can’t be luck.”

Between the two of them, Fig and PT were slowly coming around to an Ubik way of doing things. He felt pleased to have met these two. Probably the only two people in the galaxy who might give his ideas serious consideration. They would probably still wind up dead, but it was nice to receive a little validation first.

“He’ll sacrifice us both when he needs to,” said PT.

Fig nodded. “Probably.”

“And he’s going to continue lying to us.”

“Undoubtedly.”

“None of his explanations have been even close to the truth. His Delgados are probably just a normal pair of boots.”

“What?” said Ubik. “How could you even…” He had thought himself unshockable, but PT had crossed a line.

“I tried running polygraphs on him,” said Fig, “but it all comes back us inconclusive, even when he says hello.”

“Guys, it’s all part of the experience,” said Ubik, doing his best to make them see he wasn’t a danger to them. No more than he was to himself, in any case. “We’re facing opponents better trained and better equipped than us. They’ve been tested under every condition imaginable. That’s why our best shot is the unimaginable.”

“What about the suit?” said PT. “Do you still have control over that?”

Fig looked at the panel on his arm. “I think so. He only marginally off-set the calibration.

Ubik felt the suit tighten around him. A little too tight in some rather delicate places. The bubble helmet went up.

He could see the other two still talking but he couldn’t hear them.

“Hey, guys? Guys?” He wanted to tell them the problem was a lack of communication, but Fig had turned the comms off. He wondered if they were talking about him. Admitting their regard for him in private to save his blushes.

It was understandable why PT was upset. Mainly it was down to him not being used to getting upset in the first place. Which kind of proved Ubik’s point. The thing hardest to deal with wasn’t the direct counter to what you were trying to do, it was what you weren’t prepared for.

“Guys, come on.” Ubik couldn’t move his hands to get their attention.

They were having a very involved discussion about the future of the expedition or something. Which was fine. Ubik didn’t need to be the centre of attention all the time. The truth was, he preferred to operate from the shadows and leave an air of mystery. Only, in this particular case, he felt they should pay a little more attention to him as he was the only one of the three who was facing the arch. And the only one of the three who could see that the nanodrones had finished rebooting and Nifell was sitting up again.

Now PT was taking off his spacesuit. He was upset and had decided the suit was the problem, apparently. Fig was focused on the panel on his arm. The two of them were engrossed in their personal issues and were about to be very rudely interrupted.

Ubik tried to move but the suit was restricting his movements. Fig was running some sort of diagnostic to reinforce his control over the suit. There was an emergency override, one that would allow Ubik to exit the suit if it posed a danger to him, but he couldn’t reach it with his limbs locked in place.

“Guys. Behind you.” He mouthed the words in an exaggerated fashion so they would be able to read his lips, but they weren’t even looking at him.

Nifell rose to his feet. Ubik was starting to think a more full and frank exchange of ideas between team members might not be such a terrible concept. He probably should have mentioned the reboot function was only a temporary fix. He would have thought it was obvious. He wouldn’t want to destroy a valuable repository of information, even if it was planning to kill them. There was so much to learn from it.

There was something to be said for trust between people. It was just that Ubik had been operating on his own for so long, he wasn’t comfortable with the idea. Unable to handle the thing he was least prepared for — the irony didn’t go unmissed.

But he was fully capable of modifying his behaviour to accommodate an opponent. Why not to accommodate an ally?

Nifell had risen without attracting attention. The alien was capable of adapting, too. It had underestimated them at first, assuming it could take them all on at the same time without the need for any kind of advanced tactic. The difference in their basic attributes was sufficiently large enough to justify its arrogance. But now it would be more careful. It would make sure not to make simple mistakes.

It had nanodrones to assist its movements, it had reduced gravity to aid mobility, and it had thousands of years of experience in overcoming its enemies. Nifell attacked.

PT moved aside and threw his suit over Nifell’s head.

Fig pressed buttons on his arm and the suit stiffened while wrapped around Nifell’s throat.

PT was already behind Nifell, unzipping his suit from behind, using the safety override to get him out.

Nifell didn’t seem to know what was going on. His visor was covered and his limbs were twisted out of his current suit and pinned to the ground in what looked a very uncomfortable position.

Within a few seconds, Nifell had been extracted from his suit and squeezed into the one PT had been wearing. As one part was taken out another was inserted. The two of them worked together seamlessly. It was hard to tell where one ended and the other began.

Nifells tried to break free but every attempt at a thrust or kick was guided into a cooperative movement to get him dressed. As soon as he was in the suit, Fig hit a button and Nifell became as stiff and constrained as Ubik, the only difference being the bubble helmet around Nif’s head was pitch black.

It had been an impressive demonstration of what could be achieved by working in tandem.

The bubble around Ubik’s head disappeared. “Good work. I was trying to warn you but you weren’t listening.”

“We heard you,” said Fig.

“That’s why I took my suit off,” said PT as he put on Nifell’s suit. “Why did you think I was getting undressed?”

Ubik shrugged. “I don’t judge. I could have helped, you know?”

“By introducing the element of what-the-hell?” said PT. “Maybe next time.”

“No, really, I’m thinking I could learn a thing or two from you. Expand my repertoire.” He walked over to Nifell’s rigid body on the floor. “A little less compulsive, a little more introspective, right? Teamwork — everyone pulling in the same direction.”

PT and Fig looked like each other. Neither gave the impression of being convinced. He would have to prove his sincerity, which was fine. You had to earn trust.

Ubik bent down and looked at Nifell’s head. He couldn’t see anything through the dark helmet. He put out his hand and then passed it through the helmet, his flaxen glove slipping through the force field.

He moved his hand over Nifell’s face, barely avoided getting bitten, and then took out his hand again. He had one nanodrone between thumb and forefinger.

“Oh,” said Ubik. “Should I have told you I was going to do that?”

PT shook his head.

“It’s fine,” said Fig. “Go at your own pace.”

Ubik held up the nanodrone. “Hey, you in there? Listen, we’re going inside. You can come but you have to help. No free rides. We have to work together. Then, later, you can try to kill us. If you think you can.”

“That isn’t what I thought he meant by teamwork,” said PT.

“It’s… a novel approach,” said Fig.

The chamber they were in lit up. The light came from a glowing projection that filled most of the room. It looked like a map, several levels.

“Okay, Big Head,” said Ubik. “Welcome to the team.”

Book 2 – 41: Second Contact

Third Quadrant.

Asteroid Tethari.

Unknown Antecessor Site.

 

Ubik squatted down next to Nifell and lifted his head by the top of his helmet which had a convenient hook to hold onto. Handy for hanging in a locker, not so great if you didn’t want to get grabbed and thrown to the ground.

He looked deep into Nifell’s entirely black and lifeless eyes, humming as he waited for a full and complete history of the Antecessors, as promised. He didn’t really expect to get what had been advertised — when did you ever? — but he thought it was worth a try. You never knew when an alien race might defy convention and follow through on a commitment they never had any intention of fulfilling. What could be more alien than that?

“What are you waiting for?” said PT.

“Please, a little patience,” said Ubik. “This is a very sensitive moment. First contact with an alien species has to be handled very delicately.”

“And you think you’re the best person to handle this delicate situation?” asked PT.

Ubik slowly turned around. He was still squatting, so he had to waddle around in a semi-circle on his haunches. He looked up at PT whose facial expression matched the doubting tone of his voice.

“I am the perfect person to handle this sort of situation. We have here the first living example of alien life in the galaxy. Can you imagine the knowledge this thing possesses? Obviously, it will be reluctant to divulge any of that knowledge, so we have to very carefully rip the information from its tight clutches.”

“I see,” said PT. “And the nanodrones in its body, they’re going to delicately torture it until it does what you want?”

Ubik frowned and waddled back around to face Nifell, sitting on the floor with his legs stretched out in front of him, his torso slumped forward. He blew gently into the helmet.

“I don’t think it’s going to be very cooperative,” said Fig, kneeling down on the other side of Nifell, running some kind of scan from the panel on his arm. “I’m seeing very little brain activity.”

“Nif,” said Ubik loudly into the area where Nif’s ear would be inside the helmet, “if you’re still in there, we’re going to save you. Stay strong.”

“How are you going to save him?” said PT.

“Oh, I’m not. He’s donezo. No chance, no hope, end of the line. Just trying to make him feel better. He probably can’t hear me.”

“But if he can, he just heard you say you’re abandoning him,” said PT. “You just made him feel a hundred times worse than if you’d said nothing.”

Ubik looked at Nifell’s blank face and considered what PT had said. He was right. If Nifell couldn’t hear, it made no difference. But if he could, he would be in a much worse state.

“Ah, damn it. I was trying to be nice while we waited. Sorry, Nif.”

“Trying to be nice?” said PT. “Well, I suppose it’s good to try something new. What exactly are we waiting for, Ubik?”

“The alien,” said Ubik, “it’s thinking about how to get out of there. It’ll probably try to get back into whatever vessel it was stored in before, but I don’t think it’s going to find the reverse trip as easy. The nanodrones are very good at cutting off exits.”

“How can they move around in Nifell’s head without killing him?” said PT.

“It’s what they were created to do,” said Ubik. “Like a virus, replicating and taking over cells. They can make copies of themselves to dig tunnels, but they’re actually designed to produce much smaller nanodrones that can take over human cells. It was all in the code, didn’t you read it?”

“The code that was up on the screen for five seconds?” said PT. “No, I must have skipped that part.”

“I don’t recall my father ever mentioning any of these abilities,” said Fig. “Although I can see why he might engineer them to have a double function.”

“The low gravity is still a bit of a problem,” said Ubik, “but liquid immersion helps, especially in a pressurised environment, like the eyeballs.” He peered into Nifell’s still-black eyes. “The important thing is to keep in mind that this is a vastly advanced being with an understanding of the universe far beyond anything we have. The secrets it might reveal could make anything the Antecessor ruins have given us in the last thousand years pale into insignificance. We might be in the presence of the greatest treasure mankind has ever found. We have to approach this with the appropriate level of care and consideration.” He banged the top of Nifell’s helmet repeatedly so it made a loud thunk-thunk-thunk. “Hello? Ready to talk, Big Head?”

There was still no response.

Ubik found himself being pulled away.

“I don’t think hitting it on the head and calling it names is going to help,” said PT. “Who knows how many thousands of years its been waiting here for just the right person to possess, and it ends up having to deal with you. Poor bastard.”

“You sound like you feel sorry for it,” said Ubik. “It’s thinking of ways to kill us.”

“Of course it is,” said PT. “It thinks all humans are like you. If you were my first contact experience with humanity, I’d want to wipe us out, too.”

“I wonder who they were,” said Fig.

“You don’t think it’s an Antecessor?” said PT.

“Definitely not,” said Fig. “The way it learned our language, that’s nothing like how the Origin attempted to communicate with me. And the way it was waiting outside this gate — I think it can’t get in without an invite.”

“And you’re the ticket?” said PT.

Fig shrugged. “If I was, it should have taken me instead of Nifell.”

“Maybe it couldn’t,” said Ubik. “Because of that.” He pointed at the bracelet on Fig’s wrist.

Fig looked down at it and winced, as though the sight of it caused him pain. “Perhaps. I’d like to be able to ask it directly. What does it think it can do from inside Nifell?”

The three of them looked at Nifell’s sorry-looking body, limp as a doll and not much of a threat.

“I think it’s sulking,” said Ubik.

“It isn’t human,” said PT. “I doubt it has human emotions.”

“Everything has emotions,” said Ubik. “Even machines. Some just hide them better than others. This guy, it was put here for a reason. A mission that would change the course of history or something, you know, epic. And its whole reason for existing ruined in a moment. Wouldn’t you feel down in the dumps if that happened to you?”

“You’re saying it’s depressed because it screwed up its life’s purpose?”

“Exactly,” said Ubik. “It isn’t easy being the last survivor of a dead civilisation, tasked with an important mission from beyond the grave, only to trip over your own feet and fall flat on your face right before the finish line.”

Nifell’s head jerked up and turned towards Ubik, the eyes still unseeing but the mouth twisted into a scowl.

“You will face the same fate as us,” said Nifell in a voice that wasn’t his own. “They will consume you as they did us.”

“Who will?” asked Fig. “The Antecessors?”

There was a pause. “Antecessors. This is what you call them?”

“What do you call them?” asked Fig.

The head jerked towards Fig’s voice. “We called them death. Destruction. Annihilation.”

“They aren’t here anymore,” said PT.

Nifell’s head moved again, stiffly but towards the sound of each speaker. “They do not die. They exist now as they always have. They will consume you. They will consume everything.”

“Yes, yes,” said Ubik. “But they don’t seem to be consuming anything at the moment. What’s your name? What should we call you?”

“My name is unimportant.”

“Okay, Big Head it is,” said Ubik. “So what are you? Some sort of enhanced recording? A memory left to operate a forgotten emitter? Download yourself into an appropriately simple consciousness and take over the body? Then what?”

“You think it’s some sort of artificial intelligence?” said Fig. “A computer program?”

“Well, it isn’t biological,” said Ubik.

“Listen, then,” said Nifell. “I will tell you the story of the ones you call Antecessors. Judge for yourself the tragic history you wish to revive.”

“Sorry, Nif,” said PT.

“Sorry for what?” said Ubik. Then he jumped out of the way to avoid PT’s foot as it shot forward and kicked Nifell in the chin.

Nifell’s head snapped back and he fell over, splayed on the ground.

“That was a bit rude,” said Ubik. “It was just about to tell a story.”

“The reason it chose Nifell,” said Fig. “The only difference was that he was full of nanodrones.”

Fig grabbed Nifell by his helmet and dragged him backwards. Nif’s legs tried to find a way to stand but Fig kept him off-balance as he headed towards the arch. As he approached it, he put one foot down hard and swivelled, sending Nifell flying through.

Steam fired from every angle, enveloping Nifell’s body. He screamed and shook as his body was caught in mid-air, floating in place as though the steam was supporting him, keeping him off the ground.

“It’s a computer program,” said PT. “It takes over simpler organisms.”

“The archway, it’s some sort of filter to keep it out,” said Fig. “It probably wanted to use the nanodrones to sneak in.”

After a few seconds, the steam dissipated and the body fell slowly to the ground and didn’t move.

“That’s great,” said Ubik. “Worked that out between you, huh? Do you two have a secret way of communicating? Some sort of group chat I’m not a member of? Not gonna lie, kind of hurts to be excluded. Also, as much as I appreciate the combined effort to stop the murderous mind-machine from another era, we’ve lost a valuable resource. The things it could have told us… the price it could have fetched on the open market...”

“It can’t tell us anything if we’re dead,” said PT. “Did it work?”

“I’m not sure,” said Fig, edging towards the body. “The only way to make—”

Nifell sat up. Concentric spirals swirled around and around in his black eyes.

“It was a nice try, guys,” said Ubik. “Stellar effort. But you weren’t quite quick enough.”

“Oh, weren’t we?” snapped PT. “This is your fault, Ubik. You gave it an army of nanodrones.”

Nifells stood up. He did it without bending his knees, which was impressive.

“Let’s not start pointing fingers,” said Ubik.

“You will obey my commands,” said Nifell, pointing fingers in an incredibly stiff manner. “We will enter the vault together. You will be the bait. You will trigger the traps. You will be my shield.”

“It’s still using Nifell’s body,” said Fig. “And it might not be used to how the parts work.”

“Right,” said PT. “I’ll go high, you go low.”

“Guys, guys,” said Ubik. “Do we really need to resort to violence?”

Nifell walked back through the archway. This time the steam had no effect other than to make the entrance a little more grand.

Fig lunged for the legs while PT leapt into the air, aiming for the throat.

Nifell didn’t move his head to look at either of them. His hand shot out in one direction while his foot moved in the other, both incredibly fast. Fig and PT were both sent flying. several metres.

“That’s not going to work,” said Ubik. “It’s Nif’s body but it’s augmented with nanodrones. You really need to pay closer attention to the schematics. Alien dude, much respect. You’ve really adapted to our technology super-fast. I for one am genuinely impressed. Big fan.”

Nifell ignored the compliments — not even a thank you! — and came striding towards Ubik.

Ubik snapped his fingers. Nifell immediately slumped to the floor like a puppet whose strings had been cut. “But you also need to pay attention to schematics.”

Chapter 474

Joshaya, God of Death, pain in my arse, old man with a beard who probably didn’t look like that in real life, did not look very happy to see me.

He looked even less happy that he was about to have a roommate. I could empathise. I wouldn’t want someone just popping in and informing me they’d be sharing the same space for an indefinite amount of time. Rude.

“It won’t be so bad,” I said, looking around at the vast nothingness. “This place is pretty big. I’ll take that side and you can stay over here. We probably won’t even see each other more than once a week.”

“Week? You intend to stay that long?” Joshaya had always presented a carefree attitude, a sense that nothing could stop him. Now he looked a bit worried. It was the kind of effect I was known for.

“I don’t know how long I’ll stay for,” I said, trying to put a positive spin on things. Not that I cared but if we were going to live together, it would probably be better if we had an amicable relationship. Might need to borrow a cup of sugar at some point. “And it’s not like you have any choice in the matter.” Then again, you can’t let people assume they have a say in what you do.

“I was here first,” said Joshaya.

Gods these days don’t seem to have the old fire and brimstone gravitas to them. No flood, no plagues of insects, not even thunder and lightning to add a little atmosphere. It’s all me, me, me. Worship me, paint me on a cloud, make sure I’m represented as the highest-status racial group — that goes for my son, too.

“I think it would be better if you found your own space,” said Joshaya, wringing his hands nervously. “I make a lot of noise, you know. Night terrors, screaming in my sleep, really horrible indigestion.”

“This is the only space available,” I said. “And there’s plenty of room. You can always leave if you want.”

I could see the heat rise in his face. He might not be the deity he once was but he still wasn’t going to take any backchat from a mortal pleb like yours truly. But then the light in his eyes faded. He was a spent force.

“You have no idea what it’s been like for me,” he said. “Do you think the dead are fun to be around? They aren’t. They’re miserable and they complain about everything. And they require constant supervision, always wandering off. I just want a little time to myself.”

“If they’re that much trouble don’t bring them back to life.” It didn’t seem that hard a problem to deal with.

“I’m the God of Death. It’s my job.”

“According to who? And you’re not really a god, are you? Not a proper god. You’re a fairy with lofty ambitions, that’s the truth of the matter. The rest of you, the Queen and the others, they have a bunch of powers and no real idea what to do with them. You should go back out there and have a big fight. Cut each other’s heads off until there’s only one of you left.”

Joshaya looked appalled at my suggestion of a battle royale. And not because he’d seen Youtube videos of people playing Fortnite, which was certainly reason enough.

“Why would we do that?”

“Give yourselves something to do.” I shrugged. “Maybe every time you kill one of your own, you take their power until the last fairy standing is an all-powerful superbeing.”

“And then what?”

He had me there.

“Better than hiding in here because Queenie won’t let you do what you want.”

He bridled at the accusation. “And why are you here? Don’t you have women troubles, also?”

“Me? No.” I looked up and shook my head. “No, can’t think of any.”

“Your woman is the one who convinced the others to take my powers away from me and to use them to put the dead to work. Housework, sweeping the streets, cooking dinner. Menial labour — what kind of life is that for the dead?”

“The same as it is for the living, I expect.” He made it sound like there was so much more to life, but everything that wasn’t you taking care of your basic needs was generally to the benefit of someone else. Wars, jobs, watching TV, it all put money in someone else’s pocket. “Jenny just thinks she’s helping me. It’s like a compulsion with her.”

“She wants to change you into a better man,” said Joshaya.

“No, she wants me to be the best version of me I can be.”

“Same thing.”

“No, it isn’t, but it doesn’t make any difference since I have no intention of being anything. That’s why I’m staying here. With you. I’m going to learn to make cakes and maybe take up painting, and do no work of any value. The Great British Bunk Off.”

“Go back, Colin,” said Joshaya, his voice full of depth and wisdom. “Show them what you’re capable of. You will be powerful, you will be king, they will fall at your feet and do what you tell them. The women and the men.” His hooded eyes peered at me with lascivious implication.

“What was that?” I said. “Your attempt at seducing me to the dark side? Get the fuck out of here. It’s not claiming power that’s the problem. It’s all the shit you have to put up with once you have it.”

Joshaya’s shoulders sagged. “I know. No one tells you about that part. The burden of power.”

“Oh, shut up. You’re the one who started all this. Had to meddle. I was just sleeping in the woods, minding my own business. Couldn’t leave it alone.”

Joshaya looked at me gravely. “That, too, was their idea.”

It all came back to Jenny and Claire — two women in search of a purpose. Are the problems of the world really about people having too much time on their hands? Should never have let them sit together at the back of the class.

“Well, they can’t do anything to either of us in here, can they?” I said. “I’d say we’ve managed to outfox them in the end. A couple of thousand years and then we can pop out and see what’s left of the world. Apocalyptic wasteland, I expect. Which would be a marked improvement. And anyway, this is all probably a hallucination. Maurice has reality-bending powers. I’m not generally susceptible to them, but with Jenny to help him and Peter boosting him from the shadows, I’m probably sitting in a padded room, drooling and having a wonderful time in the Matrix. I might even learn kung fu.” I peered into Joshaya’s weary face. “Are you even real, you spoon?”

“Whatever Maurice is capable of, he did it without Peter’s help.”

“How do you know that? Because they say he’s dead and trapped in limbo?”

“No,” said a cheerful American voice from behind me. “Because I’m right here, kid.”

I turned to find Peter strolling up to us, dressed in a pinstripe suit, flower in the buttonhole, hair slicked back and a David Niven moustache neatly occupying his upper lip.

“Joshaya, you should have told me we were having guests. How smashing. The three most powerful men in the world, together at last.”

The three powerhouses of Flatland, huddled together in a black hole. Sad lonely men who raged against an uncaring world. We were like the Bilderberg Group, only with fewer paedophiles.

“This is how he stopped you interfering?” I said to Peter. “Stuck you in here?” It was beginning to look like this was the Guantanamo of the fantasy world. An orc would come around later and waterboard us for lulz.

“I’m afraid so. Cut me off from everything. I’m sure all my houseplants are dead by now. As well as my other pets.”

A realisation dawned on me. “That’s why Biadet died. They cut her off from your power.”

“Did she? That’s a terrible shame.” Peter shook his head the way you might if you found a goldfish floating at the top of the tank. “But it’s not all bad news. Don’t you see? We were destined to end up together. We can form the most devastating threesome in history.”

I flinched at his use of the word threesome. They say it ain’t gay if it’s a threeway, but it bloody is if all three of you are guys.

“Count me out,” I said.

“Me too,” said Joshaya. “But the two of you should definitely form a duo and head back out.”

“No,” I said. “I think you two make the ideal couple.”

“Sadly,” said Peter, “none of us can leave. But we can use this time to come up with some devilishly good ideas. Won’t that be fun?”

“Firstly, no. And secondly, I can leave whenever I want. I have no idea what’s keeping you here, but I’m only staying to avoid the embarrassment of not being able to remember most people’s names back in Fengarad.” I put my hand out and pulled on the thin silver thread stretching from my chest out into the dark. It had been there since I got here. It felt even thicker than before, like there were two of them intertwined. “Jenny might throw me into these situations to teach me a lesson, or whatever, but she can’t leave me alone, not even if she wanted. I can follow this out any time I want.” I pulled on it and was then yanked a couple of steps forward as I was pulled in return.

“But my dear boy,” said Peter, “then there’s nothing to stop us. Let’s go and show those rascals what’s what.”

“Thanks but that’s what I don’t want to do,” I said.

“Listen, we can make it worth your while,” said Peter, putting an arm around me and using the same voice as Joshaya earlier. “Whatever you want, we can make it come true. Right, Joshaya?”

Joshaya shrugged. “I suppose. If it will get you to leave, I’d be happy to grant you any wish in my power.”

“Sure, sure,” I said, brushing Peter off. “You two just happen to be here and willing to grant me three wishes.”

“Three’s a bit steep,” said Peter.

“How’s it work?” I said. “Is it monkey’s paw rules or genie in a bottle?”

Joshaya looked at me blankly.

“With the monkey’s paw,” I explained, “you get what you wish for, but not the way you wanted it. With the genie, you technically get what you asked for, but not what you meant.”

“Isn’t that the same thing?” asked Joshaya

“No,” I said. “Let’s say I ask for a fortune. The monkey’s paw will give me the money, but it’s the life insurance payout because my child died. I get the fortune but I can’t enjoy it because of how I got it. With the genie, I get the money, but I’m teleported inside the tomb of a dead pharaoh, trapped with the fortune for eternity. One method makes me too depressed to care and the other makes me powerless to enjoy.”

Joshaya pulled a face. “Why go to all that trouble just to toy with someone? Would be easier not to grant the wish in the first place.”

“Because people are dicks.” My life was spent going over the basics with noobs. “Just like you two. You’re right, I shouldn’t be here with the two of you. You’re a bad influence. I’m leaving.” I sat down on the floor.

“You are?” said Peter. “Now?”

“Yes, right now.” I closed my eyes and left.

I didn’t go out, I went in. They might have put me inside the Void with two people even more irritating than me (well played), but I could still find a quiet place of my own. I sank into my consciousness, into the dark part of my mind.

“You’re back,” said the small version of me, his hair drooped across his face. “Hoo-fucking-ray.”

You’re never really alone, of course. Wherever you go, there you are.

“Watch your language, bitch. I’m here for some rest and relaxation. Don’t bother me with your childhood traumas, I don’t care.”

“Where’s Jenny?”

“Oh, Jenny, Jenny, Jenny. She isn’t your mother, we had one of those already. One was enough.”

Little-me sighed. “Did she upset you again?”

“No.” I sat down on the sofa that was still here from the last time. There was an old TV in front of it now. “What’s on?”

“Movies from your memory. They aren’t very good. You don’t remember most of them properly. There’s are a lot of sex scenes in ET that I don’t think were in the theatrical cut.”

I started sniggering. “Should have been. That finger...”

“You’re not staying, are you?” asked Little-me.

I have a kind of a reverse spider-sense that tells me when I’m not wanted. It goes off constantly and then occasionally stops. It hadn’t stopped in a long time.

“Fine, I’ll go. Enjoy your movies. The sex scenes in Star Wars might be more to your liking, you little freak.”

“I’ve seen it and the Wookie was too tall to get in that position.”

Everyone’s a critic.

I closed my eyes and went deeper. I wasn’t sure where I was going but there had to be another level I could try. One without anyone there to annoy the shit out of me.

I opened my eyes to a stiff breeze slapping me in the face. I was on castle battlements, the same castle as before. But this one didn’t have emergency exit signs or guardrails. No health and safety here.

The surroundings were also a lot more plain. Rolling hills and fields.

Was this where my castle home was, in my imagination? Was this where I’d spend the rest of my existence? But then why had Claire been here in that vision I’d had? She wasn’t here now. I checked.

I went inside, down a stone staircase. The rooms were large and nicely furnished and devoid of all life. I sat down and took off my shoes. This was okay. I could stay here and just chill out. If I thought of what I wanted to do, I could go do it. No rush.

I sat there, thinking. It was very quiet. It was nice. My Fortress of Ineptitude.

They say people in general are good, but they aren’t. Technically, most people aren’t bad. But that doesn’t make them good.

There are good people, bad people and the indifferent. Most people aren’t good, because they’re outnumbered by the bad and the indifferent. If you have a third of each, even if thirty-three percent are good, that’s not most.

It’s the middle third who are the problem, the ones who don’t care enough to help the good stop the third doing the bad: the holocausts, the concentration camps, the next season of Love Island. Those are the ones who hold the balance of power and they’re the ones enabling evil to flourish by not being arsed to stop it. I should know, I’m one of them.

Every now and again, someone comes along and motivates us middlers to get off our backsides and we achieve something of note, but then the charismatic guy gets a bullet in the head and everything falls apart again.

If you’re one of the bad guys, and you know the other side are a one-man team, then you know how to stop that movement in its tracks. Took a while, but now they nip that nonsense in the bud.

I think Jenny wanted me to be that guy. I wasn’t that guy, but I could be. And then I’d be the one with the bullet in my head. I mean, she could be that guy herself, but she preferred to have sex with that guy until he was so delirious he agreed to anything. It was her kink and I wouldn’t shame her for it. Pretty sure that’s not how Gandhi got into the game. MLK, maybe.

So the eternal struggle continued. Bad vs Good, middle child not wanting to get involved. Bad had the advantage because Good could only react after bad had already made its move, and it was too late by then. I think that’s why all our superheroes are guys who act outside the law. The law is owned by the bad guys.

Even if I got involved, whatever I did would only be temporary. All that effort and then back to the same ol’ same ol’ as soon as I take my foot off the gas. What’s the point even trying.

I don’t know how long it took — hours, days, maybe years — but eventually the answer came to me.

“You again,” said Little-me when I returned.

“How long was I gone?” I asked him.

“About ten minutes.”

“I’m leaving. Don’t touch anything while I’m gone.”

Little-me blew the hair out of his eyes and glared at me.

Next stop, Tweedle-Dum and Tweedle-Dumber.

“Your powers,” I said to Joshaya (who seemed even less pleased to see me this time), “the Queen took them.”

“Yes. She’s welcome to them. Never brought me any happiness.”

“Okay, good. I’m going back.”

Joshaya looked delighted.

“I’ll come with you,” said Peter, running out of the dark at me.

“No.” I stood up and brushed myself off. “Wait for my signal.”

“What sort of signal?” said Peter.

“You’ll know it when you see it.” I had no intention of sending any signals. I yanked on the cord connecting me to Jenny, really tugged on it. The next moment I was twanging back to the real world.

I popped directly back into my body. They expected me to try to come out of the portal, so were busy trying to wrap up the table in some kind of white goo.

“How long was I gone?” I asked, making everyone jump.

“About ten minutes,” said Jenny.

“How did you…” Maurice looked disappointed. “I made so many calculations.”

Everyone was staring at me, not sure what to do or how to do it to me without getting in trouble.

“I’ve come to a decision,” I said.

“What?” said Maurice.

“You’re all going to have to go.”

“Go where?” said the Queen, not looking like she had any plans to go anywhere.

“To my home planet. You go there with all your fairies and dead people, and do what you want. They don’t have magic over there, so you should have no problem taking over. There’ll be some rich people who want to kill you and failing that, make a deal with you. I think you’ll know what to do. They like to fight with a big advantage over there. The biggest weapons, the biggest arsenal, the biggest armies. That’s their thing — claim to be the hero, fight like the villain. Only pick on the smallest opponents they can find, award themselves plenty of medals for it. That’s where you come in. Instead of a few OP bad guys picking off the weak, it’ll be all bad guys. No one will be safe, no one will be able to gang up and hide behind skewed laws and corrupt officials. The dead don’t give a fuck, and fairies don’t obey the rules. You can have the most amazing battles for the greatest prize. You’ll love it. And the only way for them to win is to actually live up to the bullshit they’ve been spouting for decades — by becoming real heroes. All the cowards in charge because of Daddy’s money won’t be able to rally the troops behind a message of greed and hate. They’ll be too busy running for their lives. It’ll be vicious, it’ll be terrifying, but most of all, it’ll be hilarious.”

They were all looking at me like I’d gone crazy. So the usual.

“I know, I know,” I said to their doubting faces. “But the good things is this is non-negotiable. I’m going to start to use these powers to make people do things they don’t want to. And those people are you. Trust me, it’ll be fun. For me.”

The ground shook. Only a little, but noticeably. I paused to pay closer attention. There it was again.

“Anyone else feel that?”

There were nods all around me.

The Queen lifted her arms and the air shimmered. Then an image appeared. It was a large man walking, A large naked man. He was walking over the tops of trees. It was the giant from the bridge to Monsterland.

The ground continued to shake in time with the footsteps.

“Why is Gargantua…” I stopped when I noticed the figures on the giant’s shoulders. “Can you zoom in on those people?”

The Queen gave me a look suggesting she didn’t like being told what to do but the image closed in.

It was Jack and his men. They were riding the giant.

“Always have to have the biggest weapon,” I muttered to myself.

Book 2 – 40: Ledge Lord

Third Quadrant.

Asteroid Tethari.

Unknown Antecessor Site.

 

“This is amazing,” said Ubik. “Look at it. Isn’t it beautiful?”

The large alien head hung in the air beyond the ledge the four of them had climbed to. The concentric circles in its black eyes had stopped moving; its squared scalp was resolutely inhuman; the magnified pores on its blue-grey skin giving its face the appearance of a topographical map.

The possibilities were endless. The secrets it held might change everything.

“I wouldn’t call it beautiful,” said PT.

“Shallow,” said Ubik, shaking his head. “You have no taste. You’re judging the aesthetic of an alien culture with the palate of a man who thinks mashed potatoes and soft-chew steak are the high-point of human achievement.”

“I have no idea what point you’re making,” said PT, “but if you’re trying to make me feel hungry, you’re doing an excellent job. Give me a sandwich.”

“I don’t have any left,” said Ubik.

“Sure,” said PT. “Sure you don’t.”

“It’s the truth. I gave my last one to Nif. Tell him.”

“He… yes, Mr Ubik did,” said Nifell. His eyes were transfixed on the large head, awe and horror competing for real estate on his face.

PT walked up to the edge of the platform, to the side of the stairs they had ascended, and stared up at the image. He seemed far less impressed. “It’s waiting for us to choose.”

“One moment,” said Fig. “Let me run a few scans.”

“Good idea,” said Ubik. “Something this advanced can probably kill you instantly if you make a wrong move. We need to show respect for an older and more advanced civilisation.”

“You want to show respect?” said PT. “You mean you want to steal their tech.”

“Tech? This is more important than gadgets and knickknacks. This is first contact with an alien species. Well, a recording of one.”

There were three coloured circles below the head. They looked to be red, yellow and green. Were you supposed to name the colour or was it non-verbal? He reached out a hand, finger pointing at the first button, to see if the buttons would react to movement.

PT slapped Ubik’s hand down. “Don’t touch anything.”

“I’m nowhere near it,” said Ubik, shaking the slapped wrist. “Aren’t you excited? This is the greatest discovery of the last fifty years. Maybe even the last hundred years.”

“I discovered a new Antecessor sigil a few days ago,” said Fig without looking up. “So it’s really only the greatest discovery this week.”

“A sigil? What was it, a few squiggly lines? This is the face of the Antecessors!”

“I don’t think so,” said PT.

“Could be,” said Fig. “Probably not.”

“Of course it is,” said Ubik. “This is the mystery solved. Who were they? What did they look like? What happened to them? All of the answers are here. Have you any idea what the people out there would give to have access to this beautiful face? Have you any idea what they’d do? To us? Rip us to pieces and put us back together so they could do it again. Oh, if they were ready to do us harm before, now they’ll do it twice as hard and poke our eyes out, too. We have the thing everyone wants, and everyone is going to tear off our heads and stick their—”

“Alright, we get the picture,” said PT. “Calm down, you’re upsetting Nifell.”

“What’s the timer?” said Nifell, his eyes bugging out. “What happens when it hits zero? How long have we got?”

The numbers above the head were still counting down. There were sixteen digits, the three on the far left all zero. The three on the right were the only ones changing, the furthest right faster than once a second, the one next to it slower than once a second and the one next to that slower than once a minute.

It wasn’t comparable to any known system of calculating time Ubik was aware of, but he felt he could get a rough idea of what it was indicating.

“I’d guess it’s somewhere between one year and one thousand years,” said Ubik.

“Fantastic,” said PT. “What’s the margin of error? Plus or minus infinity?”

“I’m just giving the outside figures,” said Ubik. “You have to start on the outer edge and work your way in. This is how science works.”

“According to my scans,” said Fig, eyes on the panel on his arm, “there’s nothing here. No energy signature, no light emission, nothing. It doesn’t exist.”

“See?” said Ubik. “Light years ahead of anything we can do. Where’s it projected from? How did we hear what it said? How did it learn our language?”

“It’s being projected from up there.” PT pointed at the dark roof of the chamber they were in. “We heard it through the bones in our ears, some sort of telepathy or maybe a vibrational communication device. And it learned our language from Fig when it hit him with the steam. Probably read his mind.”

“That’s just guessing,” said Ubik.

“Yes,” said PT. “That’s how science works.” He looked up at the head. “I don’t like it. Something feels off.”

“That’s normal,” said Ubik. “When primitive man encounters something he doesn’t understand, he will ascribe supernatural meaning to it.”

“No,” said PT, “I don’t think it’s magic, I think this is all too easy for something hidden so carefully. We bypassed all the security systems the Antecessors put down, got straight here without any interference… it doesn’t add up.”

“Because we’re with him,” said Ubik, pointing at Fig. “He’s the one they want, you said so yourself.”

“I know what I said. It should still try to target the rest of us. There’s no plus one on his ticket. Or plus three.”

“You’re very paranoid, you know?” said Ubik. “If you keep trying to second guess yourself, you’ll never get anything done. We only have a limited time — somewhere between one and one thousand years. Try being a little more spontaneous. You’ll have more fun that way. I’ll show you.”

Ubik stepped to the front of the ledge and raised his hand.

“No, don’t—”

He ignored PT’s protest and said, “Red, please.”

The eyes, vertically stacked in the middle of the alien face, shifted to become horizontal, a little too close together to be human but certainly less alien. The face took on a more intense expression.

“Level of purity unacceptable.”

Beams of blue light shot out of the eyes and struck Ubik in the chest. He was thrown into the air, flying across the platform and landing on his back.

His head was spinning but he wasn’t badly hurt. The reduced gravity made falling a lot less painful, although his chest ached. Two heads appeared over him.

“Nice suit,” said Ubik. “My compliments to the tailor.”

“I’ll pass the message on,” said Fig.

“Nif, stay back,” said PT. “If Ubik bites it, we’ll need you.”

“It’s a little hurtful,” said Ubik.

“The beam of light?” said PT.

“No, you lining up my replacement. It’s not like you have to worry about the nanodrones. They’re not even here.”

“Sure,” said PT. “Sure, they aren’t.”

“What are you implying?” said Ubik as he sat up, wincing at the pain in his chest. “You can search me, if you like. I swear to you on my Grandma’s life, I don’t have a single nanodrone on me.”

“I’ll try,” said Fig. “Might not want to kill me.”

“Or we could ignore it and see what’s through the arch,” said PT.

“Really?” said Ubik. “And miss out on the answers to all of mankind’s questions? The secrets of the universe right there in front of us, but you’re in too much of a rush looking for the secrets of the universe?”

“We’re not here to find the secrets of the universe,” said PT. “We’re here to find Fig’s dad, remember? And sometimes knowing a secret isn’t worth the price.”

“It’s always worth the price,” said Ubik.

“Red,” said Fig.

“You are tainted.” A beam shot out again and threw Fig backwards. Ubik rolled out of the way as Fig landed in his spot.

“Ow,” said Fig. “That thing’s got a bit of a kick.”

“Looks like their millennia-old death rays aren’t a match for our modern spacesuits,” said PT.

“Or,” said Ubik, “it isn’t trying to kill us. Yet.”

“This obsession it has about purity,” said Fig, sitting up. “What do you think it means? Some sort of bloodline? A descendant?”

“I don’t imagine it’s a good thing,” said PT. “People who demand racial purity are usually psychopaths. I would have thought Ubik was the closest thing to a distant relative.”

“I’m one hundred percent human,” said Ubik.

“A hundred percent?” said PT.

“Maybe it wants an organic,” said Ubik. “A fully-active one.”

“But why let us in here if Fig isn’t the one it’s looking for?” said PT.

“Because maybe this isn’t an Antecessor?” said Fig.

“Right,” said PT. “Could be one of the other factions. We may be in the middle of a feud we know nothing about. We should just go. We aren’t going to get any answers here.”

“Or you could try your luck,” said Ubik. “Worst case, you get a kick in the chest like us.”

“No, thanks,” said PT. “If it didn’t accept you two, it won’t accept me.”

“Come on, man, just because there’s nothing special about you doesn’t mean… Wait, where’s he going?” Ubik was watching Nifell walk towards the edge of the platform.

“I am pure,” said Nifell. “I am a true Enayan. I am untainted.”

“What’s he going on about?” said Ubik.

“He’s a member of the First Temple,” said Fig. “It’s a sect on my planet. People who believe they are the true natives of Enaya.”

“Isn’t everyone on your planet a settler?” said PT.

“Yes,” said Fig. “But they believe in a mystical presence on the planet that claims their souls.”

“I’d better stop him,” said PT.

“No,” said Ubik. “Maybe he’s right.”

“Oh, now you believe in the supernatural?” said PT.

“Won’t hurt to see,” said Ubik. “Well, it won’t hurt us.”

Nifell stood with his arms raised. “I ask the First to accept the true inheritors of Enaya.”

“You are pure. You are accepted.”

Nifell was hit by a beam of blue light but unlike the others, he wasn’t knocked down. The light bathed him and raised him into the air. Nifell had his arms out to the side and his head tilted back.

“Which button did he press?” asked Ubik.

“None,” said PT. “I don’t think he’s getting any answers, either.”

The giant head vanished and Nifell dropped back down, slow enough to land on his feet. He turned around.

“We will enter the vault,” said Nifell. His voice sounded very different. “You will lead.” He pointed at Fig.

“I think someone’s getting a little too big for his boots,” said Ubik.

PT grabbed the visor on Nifell’s helmet and pulled it up. His eyes were black with concentric circles. His arm shot out and sent PT flying into the wall.

“I get it,” said Ubik. “It couldn’t download itself into me or Fig. Not pure enough. Not simple enough. Good thing you didn’t try, PT.”

“How do we stop it?” said PT.

“You will do as I command.”

“Can we get a couple of those answers first?” said Ubik. “You know, the secrets of the universe and the hunters and everything?”

“You will do as I command.” Nifell’s eyes began to glow.

“Okay, that’s a no, then. Bye.” Ubik waved his hand.

Nifell arched his back and convulsed. His head was thrown from side to side and his arms bent at unnatural angles.

“I knew it,” said PT. “Those nanodrones. You put them in Nif’s suit.”

“I needed somewhere safe to store them. That’s what you use a backup for, isn’t it?”

Nifell was lying on the floor, not moving.

“But they don’t work in low gravity,” said Fig.

“They behave differently inside a liquid,” said Ubik.

“Liquid?” said PT. “Wait, you fed them to him? In the sandwiches!”

Nifell sat up. His eyes were pure black now. “You will obey my commands.”

“He isn’t dead,” said PT.

“Of course not,” said Ubik. “I wouldn’t kill him. What kind of a monster do you think I am? Don’t answer that. I just cut his optic nerves.”

“You blinded him,” said PT.

“Arrgh,” cried out Nifell, his head turning from side to side. “You will—”

“I won’t,” said Ubik. “But if you don’t want to be stuck in the dark forever, I think it’s about time you answered some questions. I’d like to press the red button, please.”