V. Moody's Blog, page 27

Chapter 463

There was grunting and scrabbling coming from the dark portal in the wall. It sounded nasty, and numerous. The smell wasn’t great, either, but that was probably Mandy’s attempt at making porridge for the baby.

Biadet had inadvertently opened a portal to the demon dimension. I wasn’t sure if that’s what it was called, but it was as catchy phrase and if I didn’t name it, some nerd would insist on calling it something that sounded like a sneeze with six apostrophes and no vowels.

She had meant to open a way back to Flatland for me — at least, that was what she said she was going to do — but I guess one interdimensional portal looks pretty much like another.

If this opening was an entrance to the place where Cheng’s army of minions were residing, they were likely to come streaming out and cause massive devastation across the planet.

This was quite possibly the start of the darkest timeline, although some say that moment actually happened when MTV stopped playing music videos. The world began its unstoppable decline that day and look where we are now. Coincidence? I think not.

Now that the gateway was open, monsters were free to enter our world. Vicious, inhuman creatures were what they would find here, so they’d probably fit right in.

I won’t lie, I found the idea of rampaging demons across the globe quite appealing. I imagined it would make great television. Mind you, if the advertisers didn’t like the message the demons were here to deliver, then it would be back to reruns of Friends. Death and murder would be fine, but if the demons got all sexy in front of the cameras, no one would want that on the six o’clock news.

Either way, I was looking forward to seeing how modern technology would match up against the arcane dark arts. Every proud, moral person who despised the weak and the cowardly would now have to put their money where their mouth used to be before their head got bitten off. They couldn’t stop it. The door was open and none of these world powers had the faintest idea how to close it. The world had just been irrevocably changed forever.

“I should probably shut that,” said Cheng. “We don’t want them coming in here and dirtying the carpets. I said white wasn’t a good idea, but I was outvoted.” He moved across the room towards the portal. There was howling coming from it.

“Hey, wait,” I said. “What are you doing?”

“I’m going to shut it off,” said Cheng, like it was a burst water pipe and there was a spigot you had to turn.

“Biadet sacrificed herself to open that. You said yourself how hard it would be. Don’t just dismiss her life’s work.” Technically, she had used up her life to open this doorway into the nether realms (an alternative name for those looking to expand the Wikipedia page).

“She had no life to sacrifice,” said Cheng. “She just transferred her energy. And missed. Or maybe she intended for this to happen, I don’t know. But once they come through, it will be much harder to get them back in. They get fatter after they feed.”

Did Biadet die? She had gone out like Avengers: Infinity War (but without the overacting), but who the hell thought for one minute that all those top tier superheroes with their own franchises in the works were actually dead? Even the most minor comic book characters never stay dead for very long. About one print run, usually.

New Coke showed us how powerful it is to get rid of something everyone likes, replace it with something nobody wants, and then bring back the original to wide acclaim and boosted sales figures. The sad part isn’t that they try to fool us, it’s that it works so well, again and again. If ever there was clear evidence for the deterioration of us as a people, there it is.

Biadet could reappear at any time. Or not.

“You can’t close it,” I said, standing between him and the portal. “This is what we need here. A magical portal that releases homicidal monsters on a regular basis. Humanity will have something to do other than scroll through social media and jerk off to pictures of naked celebrities. This is why you’re here Cheng. This is your moment to fulfil your purpose as the child of a demon and a human.” I looked over at Mandy, hoping she would jump in and help when it came time to vote.

Charlie also seemed keen. In fact, he was trying desperately to go through the portal, squirming in Cheng’s arms and reaching for the darkness.

“I told you,” said Cheng. “I am not interested in this world. There are too many problems here and I don’t want to be the one who has to take responsibility for them. It’s an old demon trick to make a mess of things just before someone else’s turn to take over, so they end up looking like the one who can’t get things done. Only a fool would take on such a poisoned chalice.”

I would have been insulted on behalf of the Earth if he hadn’t been so accurate.

“Fine, fine, you don’t want the job. But they’re demons, right? Creatures of chaos. Just let them run amok and do what they want. It’ll be good for the fat, lazy shits of this world to get off their arses and run for their lives. Don’t think of it as becoming this world’s overlord, think of it as becoming our personal trainer.”

“It won’t be the way you think,” said Cheng, adjusting the baby while trying to get round me (by which I mean trying to get round me without hurling me out of the way like a ragdoll). “This isn’t a game. I’ve seen what you people think it’s like to fight a war with creatures of magic. You won’t get saved at the last minute and have a happy ending.”

“I know that. I have fought a monster or two in my time, you know.” To be honest, I still found it hard not to think some hero would come in swinging his dick at the last moment to deliver a killer line and turn the tide of a fight. Unfortunately, that hero tended to be me, and there wasn’t much swinging going on, I can tell you.

“That was nothing,” said Cheng, feinting to the left and then slipping past me on the right. “These aren’t the domesticated creatures you encountered. These are wild beasts.”

He was suggesting that I had thought myself in the jungle when I had actually stumbled into a petting zoo. I wasn’t going to disagree with him, he knew his own kind better than I did, but even a petting zoo can be a dangerous place. A kick from a donkey can leave a nasty bruise.

Cheng stood in front of the portal, kid in one arm, the other hand raised, ready to cast a spell or pull down a metal shutter. I wasn’t entirely sure how these things worked.

“Look, look, don’t be hasty,” I said. “Even if you don’t want the relatives visiting, this could be my only way back. Is there a way through there that would lead me to Flatland.”

“You wish to return?” Cheng sounded surprised.

“What am I going to do here? I thought my absence would have improved this place, but clearly I was not the problem. It’s a mess, and no one’s willing to do anything about it.”

“Neither are you,” said Cheng. Fucking demons, always going for the jugular.

“Can I get back through there or not.”

“Demons will be in your way.”

I looked at him. “So what else is new?”

“Theoretically, yes, you could find your way back. You in particular have a knack for it. But I don’t know how long it would take you. The world you return to might not be the one you left. Hundreds of years could have passed. Are you prepared to take such a risk?”

There were no guarantees, but when were there ever? Stories always made it seem like destiny would guide you to the appropriate outcome, but that was because stories were fake and for every person who really did get the dream ending they had prayed for, hundreds of other muppets fell by the wayside, forgotten and ignored. No one wants to see the movie where the orphaned kid goes to the far east to learn about martial arts, gives up after two months because the monks keep shouting at him and decides to become a vegan YouTuber instead.

“It’s fine, I don’t mind time on my own. Maybe I’ll become friendly with the demons. What do I do, let them smell my hand to show I mean them no harm?”

“They aren’t dogs,” said Cheng. “They will eat anything you put near them, including your soul.”

“Good thing I don’t have one, then.” I was fine with facing a demon horde. Even if they killed me, it wouldn’t be so bad. Either life ends with nothingness, which would be fine, or there’s an afterlife, and boy would I have a thing or two to say to the people in charge. Give me a Karen haircut and let me speak to the manager.

“Let him go,” said Mandy, casting her deciding vote. She took the baby back and he started wailing, desperately flailing to get closer to the portal.

“Very well,” said Cheng.

I hadn’t intended to just book it, but now that the opportunity had presented itself, it seemed the obvious choice. Biadet had gifted me a door but it was up to me to go through it. I wasn’t desperate to get back to the land of fairies and Elfs, but there wasn’t much for me here. The problem with finding your way back to Kansas was that you had to live in Kansas.

Cheng grabbed one side of the portal and peeled it across like there was a layer of cellophane covering it. He hadn’t even picked at it with his fingernail to find the edge; total pro.

The sounds from within got a lot louder, and a lot unfriendlier. Snarling and snapping and something licking something else that seemed to be enjoying it.

Did I really want to make this my next adventure? I was no stranger to pain and suffering — one night I had walked through the living room when Mandy was watching Love Island — but the prospect of fighting my way through infinite demons suddenly didn’t feel quite so appealing.

Before I had a chance to lose my nerve, Cheng decided to provide a distraction. He did this by flying across the room. He was still holding onto the edge of the portal, but the portal had moved up the wall and along the ceiling.

It moved quickly, sliding across the surface, Cheng dragged along behind it. He was Cheng, so I didn’t think he would get hurt, but it was an odd sight.

“Are you okay?” I shouted as he zoomed left and right across the ceiling.

“Your friend has done something to this gateway,” he said. “I think she broke it.”

“Biadet? I’m sure it was an accident.” I wasn’t sure at all. She had been wary of Cheng, not really believing he was a reformed character.

I’m not really one to give people a second chance, but I thought as far as mass murderers go, he was one of the better ones.

As he was swinging about, he was also slowly being sucked in. Up to the elbow already.

“Let go,” shouted Mandy. “Catch him.”

This was directed at me. It would have been like trying to grab hold of a moving car. “You catch him,” I suggested, ducking as Cheng flew over me.

“It’s fine,” said Cheng. “I just need to counter the momentum. It’s a little delicate but this should… do… it.”

He flung his trapped arm forward and the portal went spinning across the ceiling, leaving Cheng behind to drop to the floor.

The portal didn’t stop, though. It went down the opposite wall and into the window, which blew out into a million shards of glass, creating a vortex that sucked us out with it. The portal didn’t stop there, either. It was making a break for freedom.

As it zoomed away, we were taken out of the window and down the garden. Mandy had the baby who was laughing wildly. Cheng had somehow managed to manoeuvre himself next to Mandy and had one arm around her. I was tumbling arse over tit and had no idea what was going on.

I landed on the grass and rolled to a stop. When I looked up, the portal had attached itself to the garden wall and there were demons flooding out of it. Lots of them. All different sizes.

Some had wings, some had multiple arms, some had horns and forked tails. They were screaming and whooping and generally making a lot of noise. We were under close observation by a lot of people so someone was bound to notice.

An imp, about the same size as Charlie, came flying at me, mouth open, several rows of teeth on display. I don’t want to make it seem like I was all blasé about the prospect of being bitten by some little demon shit, but I’d seen worse. I slapped it out of the air.

Not as impressive as it sounds. If you aren’t freaked out by the fact there’s a small demon coming at you, it’s just a large bug. Easier to hit than a small one.

The imp sat on the turf a little dazed. It looked at me with crimson eyes. I pulled back my leg, took aim, and gave it a punt. It rose with my foot and stayed stuck to it, mouth clamped on the toe of my shoe. They were trainers so I could feel the teeth bite into me.

“Fuck!” I screamed, to assert dominance.

The imp’s enraged eyes changed to surprise and then it let go. It started spitting and pulling faces. Either it was the Adidas leather or me, but the taste was not to its liking.

Men appeared on the walls. The secret agents had decided to go public and were carrying weapons. Maybe they had been prepared for this, or maybe they were just panicking, but they began shooting the demons. They were using guns, actual firearms, which I was pretty sure was illegal.

They were pretty accurate, but there was no blood and no deaths. The demons took the bullets like they were nerf pellets.

Some of the smaller ones jumped on the bigger ones and sucked the bullets out — that definitely wouldn’t be making it onto the news — and then spat them back at the men. Some were hit, other dived out of the way. Cheng needed to do something before the grenade launchers came out. The lawn would be ruined.

But Cheng was ignoring the kerfuffle and was staring at the portal instead. “Something is coming.”

I could sense it too. A presence far more intimidating than these creatures. A real monster. The portal rippled and a figure appeared.

“There you are,” said Jenny.

The demons all stopped what they were doing and flew at her. No, they flew to her, and gathered at her feet.

“Come on, we have to go,” she said to me.

“You only just got here,” I said. “Don’t you want to stay?”

“No.” She was very matter-of-fact. “This isn’t our home anymore. They need you. Things have fallen apart since you left.”

“What’s that got to do with me?” I had been planning to go back, but now that she was telling me to, I didn’t feel like it. Petulant, I know. But it was a bit much. She just got here and already she was ordering me about. What a joker.

“You don’t belong here,” said Jenny. “You live in a society.”

“No,” I said. “I live in Tottenham,”

“You’re coming with me,” said Jenny. And then she sent her demons to get me.

Book 2 – 20: Fight Promoter

Third Quadrant.

Planet Enaya.

Elect City Battle Arenod™.

 

Ubik was seated in a large comfortable chair in a waiting area full of potted plants with shiny fronds. He had his legs crossed, one boot resting on a knee, and he was slowly sinking into the plush foam padding.

The walls were covered in hyper–definition screens that showed a forest setting with small animals jumping in and out of frame. The room had an aesthetic that gave you an idea of the kind of business you were getting involved with.

Ubik liked it. Survival of the fittest. Law of the jungle. Eat the competition.

The drone that had brought him here was hovering at his side, gently bobbing up and down. That was usually an indication that the drone was nearing the end of its serviceable life. Once the stabilisers went, it was generally considered too expensive to replace them — might as well get a new drone.

But this drone was already decades old, if not older. Someone had gone to great lengths to keep it running, and in excellent condition. No dents or scratches on the casing, no whiff of lubricant leaks or smell of burning servo oil like you would get with most older models. Ubik wasn’t even sure what make of drone it was, there was no obvious branding.

“Hey, how long have you been working here?”

Ubik waited for a reply but the drone ignored him. He could tell it had heard him from the way the lights around its middle had reacted to his voice.

He peered up and under the drone.

“Service model 390 dash 141 dash 812, operational history.”

“One hundred and twelve years, ten months, four days, eight hours, four minutes and thirty–six seconds, standard.”

It wasn’t ignoring him, it just pre–dated casual conversation simulation. Over a century old and still functioning. And still with its serial number as its primary access code. Someone liked to keep things nice and simple. Ubik very much approved.

“Service model 390 dash 141 dash 812, release docking cable.”

Older models usually had hardwired access ports, although his experience was with ‘older’ being around twenty years old. Something stretching back this far, who knew? A wire dropped out of the bottom of the drone and extended all the way to the ground.

Ubik looked to see if anyone was around. The drone had told him to wait here about ten minutes ago. He expected to be made to wait quite some time. This was a business establishment and in business, you put people in their place.

But this was quite an unusual place of business, so he made sure he wasn’t about to be interrupted.

Keeping an eye on the only other door apart from the one he’d entered, he grabbed the cable and stuck the end into the heel of his right boot balanced on his left knee.

Delgados had a very useful recharging function. They could connect to any known size and shape of connector pin, including proprietary ones, via a universal jack that numerous manufacturers had tried to get banned. Delgados had proven impossible to sue in court because no one knew where their head office was. Through a complex legal process, they were the only company in the galaxy that didn’t exist within any legal jurisdiction.

Of course, Ubik wasn’t trying to power up the drone next to him, he was uploading a few minor and harmless lines of code. He had made a few modifications to his Delgados over the years, something the company strongly discouraged, although it didn’t void the lifetime warranty for some reason.

“Mr Bantam?”

Ubik put his foot down sharply and the cable went snapping back into the drone with a whipping sound. He stood up, careful to put himself between the drone and the man who had suddenly appeared from another door that hadn’t been there a second ago.

“Nice to meet you. Hari S Bantam. Nice to meet you. Oh, I think I said that already. I’m a bit nervous, sorry. Never been in a place this fancy, with all these modern technological marvels.” He was speaking very fast and very loudly to cover any sounds the drone behind him was making. “We don’t have anything like this stuff where I hail from. Nice to meet you.” He stuck out a hand.

The man, who was tall and broad and wearing a black suit with metal stripes running down it, smiled and shook Ubik’s hand. His right eye twinkled, literally. His ocular implant was scanning Ubik.

The trouble with a society that relied so heavily on implants was that people became used to relying on them. They developed a kind of blindness. They stopped doubting what they saw because the implants were never wrong. It came in very useful when it came to convincing them of things that weren’t true.

“Oh, no need to be nervous Mr Bantam.”

“Hari, please.”

“Hari. We all have to start somewhere. I’m Ghee Parvel. If you’d come with me.”

Ghee looked confident and in control, and why not? He was dealing with a rustic off–worlder, the advantages were all his. Ubik glanced back at the drone. Its lights were flashing furiously as its operating systems were being rewritten.

“This way.” Ghee was holding the door open, which was very quaint. A door you had to hold open with your hand. The whole place was from a different era.

Through the door was an office. It was long and thin and there was a table with two chairs on opposite sides.

There was a screen on the far wall showing a large auditorium with a ring in the centre of a lot of seats. There were some women training or rehearsing, possibly dancing.

There were no computer consoles in the room or tronic devices that Ubik could see. Normally, that meant they were discreetly hidden and would slide out of the floor or the walls, like on the Nirvana, but in this case Ubik was fairly certain that wouldn’t be the case.

“If you’d like to take a seat,” said Ghee, indicating a chair with the slate he was holding. “Now, it says here you’ve been in the fight game for ten years. I have to say, you don’t look old enough.”

Ubik sat down and waved away the comment like he was embarrassed by the flattery. “It’s the long orbit and thick atmosphere on Phledo, we all look like kids. Skincare companies hate us.”

Ubik had put down one of the nearby moons as his and Point–Two’s home. He had gained a lot of local knowledge from the Central Authority ship and was something of an expert on the three moons that circled Enaya on giant orbits taking several years to complete a single rotation.

None of the moons were heavily populated and served as food suppliers for Enaya. Their people were considered country bumpkins and Ubik was happy to play up the role.

“I’m afraid I’m not too familiar with Phledo,” said Ghee. “And our files don’t seem to have been updated recently, either.”

Ubik knew that, too. The poor communication between the moons and Enaya had also been conveyed to him. The Nirvana had done a thorough analysis of all communication arrays in the region to determine the best route to send for assistance. Phledo had come bottom of the list.

“No worries,” said Ubik. “We don’t have a lot going on. Couple of small urban centres, one fighting arena. Not much to update you about.”

“I’m sure it’s very pleasant,” said Ghee. “And you arrived today? Must have been… difficult.”

“Yeah, and then some. So many vehicles everywhere, and so many people. Don’t know how you people manage to get anything done with so much stuff in the way.”

“No, I meant with the meteor storm.”

“Oh, that. That was nothing. We get them on Phledos all the time. You just got to dodge out of the way before one hits you.”

Ghee nodded, a look of mild amusement on his face. “Look, Hari, I have to tell you, normally we only audition new fighters during the off–season. We have a pretty full roster and it’s very competitive. But your application for this young lady…” He looked down at the slate. “Janeane Ingwe. I have to say it caught my eye.”

“Oh, really?”

Ubik wasn’t surprised. He had loaded the application form with a bunch of optimised keywords to make sure their system would flag this particular out–of–season application as top tier.

But Janeane Ingwe wasn’t just a local prodigy of the fight game, she had a CQ of twenty–three percent, although you’d only know that if you ran a diagnostic on the DNA scan Ubik had supplied. It was the one he’d used to get himself into the Free Volunteers Guild, with a slight adjustment to boost the numbers.

Fight Legends Elect Management had just stumbled onto a gold mine. Their fighters might not be able to employ organics, but the company that ran the Battle Arenod also owned Total Elite Protec, which supplied bodyguards to the rich and powerful. The headache the Nirvana had given him had been worth it for all the little info–packets that now resided in Ubik’s head.

Women with high CQs were hardest to get hold of since the Seneca Corps tended to hoover them all up, so a discovery like Janeane Ingwe was a valuable find.

“She has some really impressive, ah, DNA markers. We use very sophisticated measurements to assess our fighter, and Ms Ingwe shows a lot of potential, with the right training.”

“That’s wonderful. Janeane will be so happy to hear that. She’s always so shy about her skills, you know, very humble, thinks her wins are all down to luck. This will really help boost her confidence.”

“But…” said Ghee, “I have to tell you we would want to buy out your contract. There are no shared deals here, we own all our fighters.”

He was lying, FLEM owned hardly any of the fighters who fought here. Consortiums and private gyms competed under licence and FLEM took a cut of every bout. But they would make an exception for Janeane Ingwe.

“Sure, of course,” said Ubik. “That’s why I’m here. I’ve taken Janeane as far as I can, she needs proper coaching now, top–level stuff. You make me a fair offer, and she’s all yours.”

There was a glimmer in Ghee’s eye. His ocular implant was going crazy, probably relaying information up the chain of command. The bumpkin was ready to deal and they hadn’t even had to twist his arm. Ghee was doing his best to suppress a smirk, but it wasn’t going well.

“That’s great. I’m sure we can come to an understanding. I think, if you let me, I can convince my people to go as high as… one hundred thousand. That’s in standard currency.”

“Nope,” said Ubik firmly, shaking his hands like they’d been scolded with hot water. “No can do. Sorry.”

“No? It’s too—”

“No standard currency. I’ll only take payment in Kachwa. Real money, that’s all I deal in. One hundred thousand Kachwa.”

Ghee’s face was stuck in an expression of shock. He couldn’t believe his luck. “You want local currency?”

“In cash,” said Ubik. “Non–negotiable.”

There was a pause as the realisation that this was going to be an even bigger payday than he’d realised slowly filtered into Ghee’s brain. Then he sprang to his feet. “One hundred thousand Kachwa, I don’t know, it’s a lot. I’ll need to speak to my boss.”

“Ninety thousand, that’s as low as I’ll go,” said Ubik.

Ghee was beaming. “I just, ah, I mean, I think...”

“In cash,” said Ubik. “Not signing anything until I see the cash.” He folded his arms across his chest.

“Of course,” said Ghee. “I can see you’re no stranger to making deals. You drive a hard bargain, Mr Bantam.”

“Hari. People who pay me in cash get to call me Hari.”

“You wait right here, Hari. I’ll get you your money, just leave it to me. Five minutes.”

“Sure, sure. Can you put it in a bag?”

“Absolutely. I’ll use one of the ones in our gift shop, free of charge.” He ran to the door, skipping a little with joy.

Ubik watched him prance out of the room. He would have liked to have negotiated the price even lower, that much money would be heavy. In any case, Janeane was about to become the cheapest high–level CQ signing of all time.

Ubik rose from the chair and went over to the screen. PT was now in the ring with a tall woman who looked very strong and quite angry. The acting was impressive. These people really knew how to put on a show. The two of them were flying around the ring, smashing into the sides. PT seemed to be doing most of the colliding. It looked very realistic..

PT wasn’t supposed to do any fighting but he seemed to be fitting in well. One of the girls. The tall woman had her thighs wrapped around PT’s neck, now, which looked uncomfortable, unless you were into that sort of thing.

Ubik pressed the bottom of the screen and pushed out the console. It was a standard monitor, not an antique, so Ubik was able to figure out the controls quite easily. He switched channels to an exterior shot of the building. As expected, a grey–market enterprise like this one had excellent lookout drones, nicely positioned, full coverage. There were spotters on the roofs across the street and security personnel lying in wait at all the exit points. That hadn’t taken long.

What Ubik needed was a private way out. Once he got the money from Ghee, it shouldn’t prove too difficult to get access to the tunnels under the arena.

“Here we are, Mr Ubik.”

Ubik turned around slowly. Ghee was standing with two very large, very muscled men. For such big men, they had come in very quietly.

“Sorry?” said Ubik.

“We know who you are,” said Ghee. “The city’s security forces are very keen to talk to you, it would seem. But the VendX bounty on your head is very tempting. Who do we give you to?”

Ubik smiled. The drone from outside rose from behind the men. Nice of them to bring it in with them.

“Can I have some time to think about it?” said Ubik.

“No,” said the drone, “I don’t think so.”

Chapter 462

In the morning, there were no dead Chinese people outside the window. I couldn’t say if they had got up and walked away or if someone had come along and swept them into a wheelbarrow and carted them off.

The grass looked a bit flat, so I assumed I didn’t dream it, but I liked the fact people were willing to hide the evidence of my crimes. Saved me having to do it.

Biadet wasn’t in bed but I could hear noise coming from downstairs so I assumed she was already up. If there had been a problem, the noise would have been either louder or completely silent.

I took a shower and considered how to convince Cheng to go along with my plan. He didn’t want to take over the world and rule it with demonic force, so I needed to think of a way to make him. I couldn’t really threaten him in any meaningful way. I’d probably have to get Mandy to do it for me.

As the water thundered on the top of my head, I felt like I could hear something in the distance. Beyond the murmur of voices, under the house, there was a weird sound. Growling.

When I turned off the shower and opened my eyes, it was gone. If I focused really hard, I could just about hear it. But it was so faint, I could just as easily have been imagining it.

Downstairs, Biadet was having breakfast with Mandy and her Satanic child. The kid had food all over his face, which is the way bad parents convince themselves they’re cool for letting their progeny express themselves freely, when in fact they’re just lazy. They’re the same people who think they’re encouraging creativity by only giving their kids wooden toys, when they’re just cheap and refuse to buy them a Nintendo Switch like a decent human being.

Biadet was eating toast, although it was mostly strawberry jam. She had managed to get a whole jar onto half a slice. She had dark rings under her eyes and her hair was looking like week six of chemo. Which was bad enough, but Mandy had loaned her a shiny white Adidas tracksuit with pink stripes, making her look like a Slavic meth addict.

“Don’t let Mandy dress you,” I said. “She has the tastes of a very common peasant. We call them WAGs.”

I put my hand on her shoulder and gave her a shot of energy. I didn’t exactly have much to spare, but it wasn’t like I was going to need it for anything.

Biadet sat up and looked up at me, not the least bit grateful. “If you keep doing that, you’ll end up looking worse than me.”

“Too late for that,” said Mandy. “Biadet was telling us you had guests last night.”

I put the kettle on and stuck some bread in the toaster.

“The Chinese made me an offer. They want Cheng to come home to the motherland, well, his mother’s land.”

Mandy frowned. “They never said anything to us about it.”

“I expect they don’t want to be rejected, so they asked me first. If I don’t do what they want, then it’s not a final no. If they went straight to Cheng and he gave them short shrift, show’s over. That’s how the faint-of-heart operate. The most important thing is to not fail. Just means you haven’t succeeded yet.”

“You’re saying these people are cowards,” said Biadet.

“Yes. Anyone who accepts totalitarian rule is a coward. All one point five billion Chinese are certainly cowards. Otherwise they’d be dead.”

“That’s kind of racist,” said Mandy, part of the Chinese diaspora now that she’d married a half-caste member.

“Only if I thought China was the only totalitarian government,” I said. “Cowardice is fucking rampant at the moment. You can’t blame people in those places, though. China included. What are they going to do? Protest injustice and be cut down like those guys in Tiananmen Square? They’d need huge balls to try something like that again.”

Cheng came into the kitchen. He had no top on but he was wearing jogging bottoms, thankfully. They had no designer label on them, which was shocking. What was Mandy even doing all day if not buying overpriced shit for her family? If you aren’t advertising billion-dollar corporations on your clothing and paying through the nose for the privilege, are you even living in a society?

Naturally, I was mistaken. As Cheng turned around I realised his clothing wasn’t brandless, it was actually covered in tiny ‘LV’ logos so you couldn’t tell without staring. The art of subtle excess.

The toast popped up and Cheng put the two pieces together to make the world’s driest sandwich and ate it.

“Hey,” I said, “that was mine.” Fucking demons, think they can take anyone’s toast.

Cheng took a slice of bread off the top of the loaf and threw it at me. It ignited into flames and then went out so that when I caught it, it was covered in black soot. Not exactly the way I like it, but hard to argue with someone who can set things on fire without a match.

I scraped off the black stuff with a knife and buttered it, and then followed Biadet’s example with extra jam.

“By the way,” I said through a mouthful of charcoal and sugar, “anyone else hear a strange distant growling?” No one said anything. “Like the dead trying to climb out of their graves? I would think it was my conscience but I’m pretty sure I don’t have one.”

“It’s his army,” said Biadet. “They’re restless.”

“You hardly notice it after a while,” said Mandy. “Charlie finds it quite soothing, don’t you, babe?”

Charlie winced and then farted. Then he put his head on Mandy’s chest and fell asleep.

“Aw, bless,” said Mandy. Some women have low standards.

“An army like that would come in useful for taking over the world,” I said. “If you’re not going to use them, at least lend them to me.”

I didn’t really want my own army of hellspawn — having to keep the central heating on all the time would be prohibitively expensive — but I was going to slowly goad Cheng into taking an active role in this world.

“They aren’t here, I told you,” said Cheng. “They only seem close by. It would be very hard to get them over the threshold, even if I wanted to.”

“If he was the demon overlord of this world,” I said to Mandy, “he could set things up for Charlie to take over when he’s old enough. You’d be the mother of the leader of the free world. Well, not exactly free, but then when has it ever been?”

A light went on in Mandy’s eyes. She was seeing herself as the most important woman in the world, with access to all the best frocks and jewellery. Obviously, I’m guessing that’s what she was thinking. You might think I have a stereotypical and deeply misogynistic view of women, but I only thought that about Mandy because it was accurate.

“I had wanted him to be a doctor,” said Mandy, “but ruler of the world would be nice. He could do a lot of good.”

The faint smell of shit wafted up from Charlie’s lower parts. He had all the makings of a fine leader.

“You’ll have to get Cheng on board first,” I said.

“I see what you are trying to do,” said Cheng.

“And still you won’t be able to do anything about it,” I replied.

To be honest, I wasn’t sure about this approach myself. Making Mandy the planet’s mother-in-law seemed less than ideal. Twenty years from now, she would be an over-the-hill tart with all the usual issues for a woman of her age. If you don’t know what those issues are, I won’t spoil the surprise. But invest in earplugs.

“I’d like you to show me your world,” said Biadet.

“All of it?” I said. “That could take a while. Depends on how fast the internet is here. It’s what we use to see things in faraway places, like magic, but slower and more unreliable. I don’t know who invented wifi, but the guy was a jackass; can’t even send a signal through a wall. Good thing houses don’t have many of them, right? Him and the guy who made those tetrapacks that are supposed to open into a spout to pour milk, fucking scam artists.”

“I think she means go outside and visit places,” said Mandy.

“What?” I said, taking in this strange idea. “Oh. I suppose we could do it that way.”

“It’ll be fun,” said Mandy. “We can all go. Family outing.”

“I have things to do,” said Cheng.

“I wouldn’t want a monster to join us,” said Biadet. “They aren’t good in crowds. It gets messy.”

“He isn’t like that,” said Mandy, a pained expression on her face. “Not anymore.”

Biadet gave it two raised eyebrows and left it like that.

“Fine, we’ll do the tourist thing,” I said. “We’ll need a ride.”

Mandy sighed. “We haven’t got a replacement driver yet, I guess I could drive.”

“No need,” I said. “We have plenty of drivers waiting to take us wherever we want.”

“We do?” said Mandy.

After breakfast we headed out and left Cheng to his tinkering. I didn’t know what he was up to in the basement, but I guessed it was something that could destroy the planet if his hand slipped. Probably best to give him some space.

We walked down to the bottom of the drive.

“Are you sure we won’t need the car?” said Mandy, pushing Charlie in a stroller that probably cost the same as a Tesla, but less likely to burst into flames. Although, with Charlie being who he was, who could say for sure? “We’re not taking the bus, are we?”

“No,” I said. We stopped as the gates opened.

Parked in the road were a large number of black vehicles with tinted windows.

“Hey!” I shouted to the street in general. “We need a ride. Which one of you covert teams no one suspects as agents of a foreign power want to be designated driver? Be a lot easier than having to follow us around all day.”

There was a pause, and then doors opened on all of the cars. Tough-looking men with shaved heads appeared from each vehicle. They wore dark clothes and had sunglasses on.

“Really, guys? Did you all watch the same movie or something? The shades there to make you seem more mysterious, are they? This is England, you know? Last time anyone needed protection from the sun was around 1976.”

They stood beside their cars, eyeing us up.

“You know,” I said, “I could beat any of you up.” I couldn’t, but I liked yanking their chain. “And she could take all of you out at once.”

Biadet, who had a floppy bucket hat on, looked from one end of the street to the other. “That one.” She pointed at a Range Rover.

“You win,” I said to the tall man in mirrored shades standing next to it. “Rest of you will have to get a lift with one of the others.”

There were three others, dressed in the same black jeans, black bomber jackets (with bulges), and shades, of course. They didn’t seem too pleased about being kicked out but moved away.

“Very happy to give you ride,” said the driver. “Grigory.”

“Russian?” I guessed. “Those guys you sent over to poison people, they friends of yours?”

“Amateurs,” said Grigory. “And I don’t know what you are talking about.” He smiled.

We put the stroller in the boot. Wasn’t much room with all the metal cases, but we squeezed it in. Then we got in the back. Very roomy.

“Where would you like to go?” asked Grigory.

“Buckingham Palace,” I said. “We’re going to see the queen.”

Grigory nodded and set off. Behind us, a convoy of vehicles followed.

“Your government is run by evil shitheads,” I said, by way of making conversation.

“Haha, yes,” said Grigory.

It didn’t take too long to get into the city. It was early but past rush hour, and we made good time because Grigory ignored traffic lights and most other cars. We were beeped at a lot.

Grigory’s only attempt at making a deal like the Chinese had was saying, “In Russia, you will not be killed, even if you disappoint us. I promise.”

As tempting offers went, it was the bare minimum you would expect.

Biadet’s response was typical of her. “You would be, if you disappointed me.” Then she leaned back and fell asleep.

Once we arrived at Pall Mall, the road that leads up to the palace, Biadet perked up. Grigory lowered the back windows — they were on child lock because apparently his men couldn’t be trusted — and Biadet stuck her head out, taking in the sights.

“This is where your Queen resides?” said Biadet. “It looks poorly defended. We could easily get inside and kill the monarch. Once you have the crown, you would be king.”

“Yeah, doesn’t work like that here. It should, but it doesn’t. She isn’t actually in charge of anything. It’s more of a marketing role.”

“She has no power?”

“Well, she can protect her sons if they commit murder or paedophilia, but that’s about it. We keep her mainly for nostalgia. She’s not even really British, more German. We like to take things from other cultures. Germans gave us industrialisation. Romans gave us our roads. We even had the French for a bit, well, the Normans.”

“What did the French give us?” said Mandy.

“The phrase deja vu.”

We drove around, showing her the major tourist sites. Trafalgar Square, Big Ben, the London Eye. Every tacky postcard shot IRL. Wouldn’t have been that different if we’d just googled it. Still, Biadet seemed to find it interesting.

We didn’t go inside any of those places. They would have been packed full of tourists and they aren’t particularly interesting, to be honest. We did stop at the British Museum, though. An easy way to see the world’s history, gathered through theft in one convenient place.

Our retinue of burly men followed us around as we checked out the stolen merchandise from ancient cultures. Biadet found the weapons and armour especially interesting.

“Your ancestors were poor craftsmen,” she said, looking at a beautifully made suit of armour from the Middle Ages. “Too heavy to be practical in a fight.”

“It does look quite cumbersome,” said Mandy, suddenly the expert. She would have loved it if it had a D&G logo on it.

Charlie was keen to get his hands on anything he could reach, so he was strapped into the stroller. The retinue were also taking in the sights. I felt if I could educate the men who were here to abduct and coerce us into horrific crimes, then I would have achieved something. Plus, we’d have something to talk about when they waterboarded me.

After the museum, we got into a different car. This one had a Chinese driver called Han.

“How’s the girl I threw out of my window?” I asked him.

He smiled at me. “She went back to China. You won’t see her again.”

The price of failure.

“Your government is run by evil shitheads,” I told him.

“Haha, yes,” said Han.

After a bit more sightseeing, we got a bite to eat from McDonald’s. Not exactly British cuisine, but a fine example of where we are as a culture.

“I think I like it but also hate it,” said Biadet, halfway through a Big Mac.

“That’s normal,” I said.

Charlie refused to eat anything except for the toy in the Happy Meal. He showed promise as a future leader.

We drove back to the house in the largest of the cars, which belonged to the American surveillance team. CIA, FBI, LGBTQ, who knows?

“Your government is run by evil shitheads,” I told Joe, our driver.

“I don’t think so,” said Joe.

Everyone was happy to chauffeur us around. They didn’t try too hard to sell us on any of their Black Friday offers — either because they’d made an arrangement between themselves or had been told not to from higher up — and were very nice and polite. I felt like they were waiting for something.

“Your world,” said Biadet, “is similar to mine. It is just as foolish and full of horrors.”

Good thing I didn’t take her to Madame Tussaud’s or she’d have really been disappointed.

Biadet looked quite tired by the time we got back. I tried to give her a boost when we were back in the house, but she stopped me.

“You’ve watched someone die before, haven’t you?” She took off her hat and scratched her fuzzy head.

“Of course he has,” said Mandy, giving the sleeping kid to Cheng, who looked rested and happy. Being left the fuck alone will do wonders for your state of wellbeing.

“No, not watched someone be killed,” said Biadet, “watched someone die that you can’t save.”

“Yes,” I said. “Only, I had no interest in saving anyone. I just wanted it over as quickly as possible, but of course it dragged on forever.”

Biadet looked at me like she didn’t believe me, but she was wrong. When someone has cancer, dementia and is bipolar, you aren’t saving them by keeping them alive. Although, if they use that extra time to get AIDS, then at least you get to fill out your bingo card.

“I wanted to see what kind of world you came from,” said Biadet.

“Impressed?” I asked her.

“Only that you managed to survive here. I see now why you left.”

“I didn’t leave, I was taken.”

“Only because you wanted to be. I opened the way here by giving back part of what Peter used to save me. I can open it again for you.”

“And what happens to you?” I asked her.

“I will be used up.”

“That doesn’t sound good,” said Mandy.

“Is that what you want?” I asked Biadet. I’ve never been one to force anyone to do anything or stop them if they were sure they wanted something, no matter how retarded.

“Yes.” Biadet looked past me.

I turned and there was a black portal in the wall.

“You should go,” said Biadet. She looked grey. Her skin looked like it was flaking off. She was disintegrating before my eyes.

There was a strange growling sound from the portal.

Her final words to me were, “Oops, I think I opened the wrong door.” And then she was gone.

Book 2 – 19: Enter the Arenod

Third Quadrant.

Planet Enaya.

Elect City Battle Arenod™.

 

“This is ridiculous,” said Point–Two. “There’s no way this will work.”

“It’s worked so far, hasn’t it?” Ubik held up the larger of the two registration slates he had received from the front desk after he’d signed Point–Two up as a prospective candidate for the Battle Arenod™. “You passed the basic requirements with no problem.”

“Yes,” said Point–Two. “That’s because you filled in the form with lies. And that was just an automated receptionist. Of course it believed your nonsense. No one else will.”

“Hey, can you keep your voice down,” said Ubik. “We don’t want to attract any attention. We’re wanted men, you know.”

“I know. Believe me, I know.” He looked around the deserted lobby they were in. The carpets were old and worn and the posters framed on the walls looked like they hadn’t been dusted in a while. The whole place had a sad, forgotten feel to it.

“Look,” said Ubik. “I understand your concerns. I…”

“Someone will notice I’m not a woman, Ubik.”

“This is a very mentally uptight society. They’re used to believing what they’re told. If it says you’re a girl then officially, you’re a girl.”

“I look nothing like a girl.”

“Well, you could try smiling more.”

“How does that ma—” Point–Two stopped speaking as a large man came through the doors at the far end. He was tall and extremely muscular, a fact that was highlighted by the small vest and tiny shorts he wore.

He walked past them, his swollen thighs forcing him to walk with a bow–legged gait. He brushed back his golden–blond hair and lifted up the dark wraparound glasses circling his head like a halo to reveal enhanced blue eyes.

“Nice to see you, sweetheart.” He winked at Point–Two. “You want a selfie with the Dragon Master?”

“No, thanks,” said Point–Two.

“Yes, please, Mr Dragon Master,” said Ubik. “We’re big fans. Come on, PT, get in close.” He shoved Point–Two towards the grinning hulk, who put his arm around Point–Two’s waist and squeezed.

“Ooh, you’re a solid girl. I like that.”

Ubik leaned in on the Dragon Master’s other side and held up the smaller slate like it was a camera. The screen blinked like it also believed it could take pictures.

Point–Two slipped out of the Dragon Master’s embrace and gave Ubik a withering look.

“Hey,” said Dragon Master, “what say you and me—”

The slate in Ubik’s hand flashed and a voice said, “Please proceed to the third floor.”

“Oh, you’re auditioning?” Dragon Master’s smile revealed an impossible amount of teeth. “Well, then we’ll have plenty of time to get acquainted. Look me up later.” He pointed a finger at Point–Two like it was a gun and then turned around and strutted away.

“How did he think I was a woman?” said Point–Two.

“Maybe he didn’t,” said Ubik. “Open your mind, PT. Let’s go. We’ve got more hoops to jump through and not much time.”

“We’re going to get found out,” said Point–Two, sounding less convinced now. He followed Ubik while looking back at Dragon Master exiting the building.

They got into an elevator and rode up to the third floor. The walls were plastered with holover images of past champions, lunging out of their frames.

“Here,” said Ubik, handing over the little slate. “Read the rules, make sure you don’t give yourself away. I put you down as an experienced amateur, been doing shows in the sticks for a few years, won a couple of regional contests. They’ll expect you to know your stuff.”

Point–Two looked at the pages of text flashing by on the screen. “How am I going to remember all this?”

“Just improvise. It’s all for show, you’re not actually going to fight anyone.”

“I’m not?”

“Of course not. You wouldn’t last two minutes in the arena with any of those girls. I saw some of their stats — wooh. We’re just here to pick up some information. Official channels won’t tell us what’s really going on, and we need to have some idea of what to expect if we want to help Fig out of whatever mess he’s gotten himself into. You want to help your buddy Fig, right?”

“He’s not my… I thought we were here to make some money.”

“That too,” said Ubik, “that too. It’s all part of the same tapestry. We find the right thread and pull it...” Ubik made a yanking motion.

“And the whole tapestry falls apart,” Point–Two said, not sounding very impressed.

“Exactly,” said Ubik. “They end up without their tapestry, and we have all the thread we could ever need.” He threw his arms apart indicating the size of this supposed victory.

The doors opened. If the lobby had been shabby and uncared for, the third floor was bare and utilitarian. White walls and cement floors. A ball–shaped drone hovered in front of them.

“Welcome to the Battle Arenod™, a subsidiary of Fight Legends Elect Management. This way please for your preliminary interview.” The drone floated away from them.

Ubik stepped out of the elevator and Point–Two reluctantly followed, a sense of impending doom weighing him down far more than the local gravity.

“Remember, you’re the talent, no one expects you to know anything,” said Ubik. “Play dumb and you’ll pass with flying colours. I’m the one who has to convince them we’re worth taking on.”

“How long will this take?”

“Not long,” said Ubik. “I make a great first impression. Check out the nodes on that drone. Must be ten years old. Vintage. Classic.”

“Thank you,” said the drone. “I am a Mark IV Rigogo service drone with all original parts intact.”

“Nice. You must have a very proficient maintenance department,” said Ubik, and then added under his breath, “Or a very cheap one.”

“The owner’s enclosure is through these doors. The asset will wait in the changing area and dressing rooms. A fight coordinator will show you the facilities.”

There were two doors. One was large and flashy with a glowing sign over it that said: Owner’s Club. The other was a small door with no signage.

“Won’t I be interviewed?” asked Point–Two.

“Assets are tested at a later date,” said the drone, “once preliminary contracts have been agreed.”

“See?” said Ubik. “I do all the work, you get to hang out with the other girls. Make sure you mingle and see what you can pick up.” He walked on with the drone towards the larger door, which slid open as they approached.

Point–Two wasn’t too disappointed to be left to wait with the ‘talent’. He would much rather not be in the room when Ubik pulled whatever nonsense he was inevitably going to pull. Point–Two turned and walked into the door, which didn’t slide open. He rubbed his nose and pushed the door with his hand.

There was a short hallway with three doors leading off it. Each had a symbol indicating males, females and neutral. Point–Two stood there for a couple of minutes before gritting his teeth and going through the one marked for females.

He wasn’t sure how Ubik had managed to convince people he was a woman but clearly he had, and it was best to play along and hope no one rumbled him.

As soon as he went through the door, he was hit by a barrage of noise. He was in a large room full of women in various states of undress. There were mirrors and lights everywhere, and a riot of smells, some perfumed scents, some less pleasant.

There was a lot of chatter, a general sense of ease and looseness, and no attention paid in his general direction, which was fine with him.

The women varied in size and build, but were all athletic. Lean, toned, graceful. Some were applying make–up to their faces, others to cover bruises. Hair was either very short or tied back. In one corner, a girl with dark hair in a bob and very white skin was sobbing while three others consoled her, but everywhere else there was no sense of alarm or aggression.

Point–Two remained by the door, not knowing where he was supposed to go. He didn’t feel awkward about all the flesh on display. He was too distracted by concern for his own safety to leer at naked girls, and the unaffected way the women showed their bodies took any lewdness out of the display.

“You’re the new girl?” said a shorter, less muscular woman wearing a headset and carrying a large slate even bigger than the one Ubik had been given.

“Ah, yes,” said Point–Two, once he realised she was talking to him.

She took the small slate out of his hand before he had a chance to stop her. It wasn’t of any real use to him but the rules and regulations on it had given him a slight feeling of security. All he’d been able to glean was that no organics were allowed, no biological augmentations that weren’t officially sanctioned, no pharmaceuticals that weren’t administered by Arenod medical drones. A mixture of no unfair advantages chosen by the fighter and very unfair advantages chosen by the Arenod.

“I’m Teenha, the floor manager, fight coordinator and drone programmer. Welcome aboard. Just wait over there, Janeane,” said the woman as she checked over the slate. “Oh, interesting, you’re qualified for Heavy Division.” This was the first Point–Two was hearing about it. He wasn’t sure what that implied for zero–G fighting, but he didn’t like the sound of it, especially if Ubik had signed him up without mentioning it to him. “We’ll be going into the arena in a minute.”

“We will? I thought—” He was interrupted by the crying girl breaking into a loud wail.

“Don’t worry about Chrystal,” said Teenha. She leaned closer. “Her sugar daddy up and died on her. Murdered, actually. He was a big shot on the General Assembly. Not anymore, obviously.” Teenha raised her eyebrows, enjoying sharing the scandalous news. “Promised he was going to leave one of his three mistresses and give her an official place in the rotation. Course, he never would.” Teenha sighed. “She’s a silly girl but she pulls off a zero–g ten eighty like you wouldn’t believe.”

The woman seemed like she was going to keep talking forever, which would have been fine if she had anything of value to say, but she was cut off by the slate flashing in her hands and then a voice in her headset which Point–Two could only just register as a mumble.

“Okay, ladies, we’re up. The men have just finished so careful of the slippery floors.”

The women rose as one and headed towards an exit on the far side of the room.

“You, too,” said Teenha, giving Point–Two a nudge.

“I… I don’t have my gear with me.”

“No worries, you’ll only be observing.” Point–Two felt a surge of relief. Teenha noticed and laughed. “We wouldn’t throw you into the deep end on your first day.”

They followed the others through the door into a huge auditorium with banks of seating on all sides and a raised platform at the centre above which were large holover screens facing out in each direction. It reminded Point–Two of the arena on the Garu, but it felt a lot more basic. How old was this place?

They had exited about halfway between the fighting ring and the highest seats, and the women were walking down the steps in a relaxed manner. It was eerily quiet.

“Just take a seat anywhere on the killing floor,” said Teenha.

Point–Two hoped the term was euphemistic and headed down.

Everyone sat in a line on the plush but worn seats. They wore soft, loose clothing — probably not what they’d wear during an actual show — and waited for Teenha to take her place next to the ring, the floor of which was about level with the top of her head.

After talking to someone on her headset, she addressed the gathered women.

“Okay, let’s run through the plays. Chrystal, let’s do you first, get some of that tension out of your system. Faeria, you too. Uploading the fight plan now.”

The two women who had stood up jerked their heads back for a moment, blinking rapidly, and then climbed into the ring.

The women took it in turns to go up, sometimes in pairs, sometimes in quads. Once they were up there, walls rose around them that slightly obscured vision like you were looking at them through water, and the women rose into the air.

On the screens above the ring, the women could be seen clearly with no distortion. Point–Two had never seen this technology and had no idea how it worked.

He watched with great interest as the women fought. It was obviously choreographed but no less skilful for it. The timing required to pull off some of the manoeuvres left him astonished. Point–Two had been in many zero–G fights and he was hard–pressed to explain some of their moves.

They flipped and turned and slammed into one another, executing throws and landing complicated combos at blistering speed. He found himself becoming more and more enthralled as the fights continued.

Finally, the tallest of the women, a muscular blond with a bust she highlighted with a tightly worn corset, stood up. If this was her training outfit, who knew what her showtime costume looked like.

“Sorry, Bam,” said Teenha. “She’s still not here. Someone else want to step in for the rehearsal?”

From the way the other women sank into their seats, it was clear the answer was no.

“Let’s use the newbie,” said Bam making her way to the ring.

“What?” said Point–Two. “I mean, I don’t…”

“Don’t worry,” said Teenha. “It’s just a run–through. Half–speed.”

He was hesitant but he’d seen how the other girls had fought. No one had gone for the kill, they were just practising their moves.

“But I don’t have an ocular,” said Point–Two. He’d figured out the fight plans were downloaded into each girl’s ocular implant, giving them a blueprint to the fight inside their vision. It was a simple and effective way to keep everyone on the same page.

“Me neither,” said Bam. “Stuff’s for cissies. But you look like you’re light on your feet. Let’s improvise some fun stuff. I’ll go easy on you.”

Point–Two got up and climbed into the ring. He was quite curious how this worked, and it would only be a little sparring, more dance than combat.

The walls went up and Point–Two sensed the shift in gravity. He floated into the air. There was no distortion in here, either, but the girls on the outside now looked out of focus.

“What do you want me to do?” he asked the pro.

“I don’t know,” she said. “You’re the man, why don’t you take the lead?” And then she flew at him.

The Good Student on break

I'm putting The Good Student on hold until after Christmas.

November 2019 Update

Okay, here we go, updating like a professional. Consistency is my middle name from here on out. 

Book 2 – 18: Consolidation

Third Quadrant.

Planet Enaya.

The White Palace.

Control Room.

 

Mackus controlled his impatience and dismissed it as he waited for Dogtooth to finish. Dogtooth was the best engineer they had. If he was having issues breaking through the internal barrier they’d found when trying to access Ramon’s private server — the barrier no one had been aware of until now — then others would be even more stymied by this latest obstruction.

He had known going into this that there would be complications. It was to be expected. They would deal with it and then they would deal with the next problem, until there were no more. Eventually, there would be no more. There was no way that wasn’t true, even if it didn’t feel true at the moment.

“Can’t be done,” said Dogtooth as he slid out from under the main console. He had instruments in both hands and grease across his face, but then he always did. “Ramon made sure no one was going to sneak in the back way except him. Or the kid.”

Mackus folded his arms and nodded, waiting for his irritation to pass before speaking. He had to maintain the correct attitude in all this if he wanted to make the transfer of power smooth and painless. Dogtooth was too valuable an asset to lose.

“Figaro can’t help us,” said Mackus. “There has to be a way. You’ve been with him longer than any of us. Surely, you can—”

“That’s right,” said Dogtooth, getting to his feet and pulling out a cloth from the back pocket of his overalls. “I’ve been with Ramon longer than anyone, which is why I know the difference between something he intended to be bypassed in an emergency, and something he didn’t.” He began cleaning his tools, as was his habit when he wasn’t using them. “And judging by the layers of redundancy he used, this one he had no intention of letting anyone else anywhere near.”

“But if you—”

“Mackus, I’m good, I’m really, really good. But I’m not Ramon Ollo. The man is… was a legend for a reason. There isn’t a person alive that could break into that thing without his consent. There’s only his son, and he wouldn’t need to break into anything. He’d just have to say, ‘Open sesame,’ and bingo. He’s the only one who has the authority over the entire system now. Only him.”

There was no avoiding it. The only way to gain full control of the Ollo network was to force Figaro to hand it over. That wasn’t going to happen. Ramon had made sure no one would ever be able to coerce his son into doing something he didn’t want. Mackus knew that because he had been the one tasked with implementing the order. If only he’d done a less thorough job… but then Ramon would have immediately recognised any inadequacies.

“We’ll have to wait until the kid regains consciousness,” said Dogtooth.

“That may take some time,” said Mackus. “The doctor is doing his best, but it isn’t clear what happened to him.”

“And you really believe he killed those people? I mean, it’s not… I can’t...”

“You saw the deleted files. You said it yourself, he’s the only one with authority over the system.”

“Yeah, but missing evidence isn’t proof.” Dogtooth breathed on his tools and then buffed them some more, which he did when he was agitated. “Until I see crystal–clear footage of him offing those poor bastards… I’ve known him since he was a baby, Mackus. He wouldn’t do something like that. He’s the last one of us capable of it.”

“I know,” said Mackus. “He’s never had the stomach for it, but we don’t know what he experienced while he was gone. And then news about his father… on top of which there’s that thing they put in him. We just don’t know what state of mind he’s in.”

“But his first night back? Something doesn’t feel right. Smells off, I’m telling you. Not Figaro, not his style, no way.”

Mackus was a little taken aback by the conviction in Dogtooth’s voice.

“You think someone forced him to do it? I can assure you the training I gave him was flawless. No one could have—”

“No, no, I know that, Mackus. Whatever it is that happened to the poor kid, you aren’t to blame, old friend. He’s all of ours, we’re all responsible, we think of him as our own child. You did the right thing getting him to safety. If you’d let those Judicature fools get hold of him…”

“Well, that’s never going to happen, you can be sure of that.”

“I know. The doctor will get him back on his feet, that’s all there is to it. No one better to take care of him.” Dogtooth put his tools into the slots in the heavy belt he always wore around his rounded belly. “Never should have sent him away. None of this madness would have happened if we’d just kept him safe with us.”

“I agree,” said Mackus. “But it wasn’t our decision. Ramon Ollo isn’t someone to tell anything.”

“True enough,” said Dogtooth. He looked at the console, the panels open and the innards flashing and blinking with the confidence of their impenetrability.

“But without full access,” said Mackus, “it won’t be easy keeping everyone out. Eventually, we’re going to provide some answers. The Assembly are in shock right now, but they’ll start regaining some coherence and then they’ll start pushing us into a corner. It might get messy.”

“Then we clean up the mess,” said Dogtooth. “We owe Ramon that much. Whatever it takes, I’m with you.”

“Thank you,” said Mackus. He was relieved. The mess was guaranteed, and he only intended to make it messier until he got what he wanted. “In the meantime, perhaps you could give the matter a little more thought? There might be something he left hidden just for you, no? He trusted you like no other.”

Dogtooth rubbed his grizzled chin. “Aye, he might have left me a little puzzle. That was always his way, the annoying old git. Let me think on it.” He took his tools out again and sank to his knees. Then he was back under the huge machine.

“Good,” said Mackus. Dogtooth didn’t hear him, but it was more to himself. Keeping the Ollo infrastructure in place was only part of what he needed to accomplish, but it was a vital part. Ramon had spent too long building up his dynasty to allow it to fall apart. Mackus wouldn’t let that happen.

“We have new arrivals up top,” said a voice in his ear.

“More corporations?” he said. His next objective was to get rid of all the vultures circling.

“No, they’re all leaving. So are the Central Authority vessels who just turned up.”

“They’re here, then?”

“Yes. Right on schedule.”

The Corps. Now he would see just how good at this leadership business he really was. Ramon always made it look easy, knowing exactly what move to make and when to make it. Now it was his turn to show he was up to the task of assuming the mantle.

He used his ocular device to switch channels. “Okay, everyone, you know what to do. Remember, Ramon’s watching. Don’t let him down.”

 

***

 

The White Palace.

Safe Room.

 

Figaro sat on the edge of the bed, breathing slowly and letting his thoughts settle. It was a technique Mackus had taught him, one that put his mind out of reach. Deep inside his brain, there was a place only he could reach, where it was just him, and the organic.

It was dormant but always present, waiting. He could suppress it, ignore it, isolate it, but he couldn’t get rid of it. It was part of him, integrated with his DNA. He just couldn’t control it.

He opened his eyes and looked at Ganesh, who was sitting cross–legged on the floor on the other side of the room. They were both prisoners here, but Ganesh was the one in greater danger. As soon as Mackus got what he wanted, Ganesh would be eliminated. Which was not something that would concern Ganesh, he should have died a long time ago, as he was happy to admit. But his family were at risk, and he would do whatever was necessary to keep them safe.

He wasn’t naive enough to believe Mackus would keep his word, though. If Mackus had promised to let them go or not kill them, there was no way to guarantee it. Which meant Ganesh would have to do more than simply cooperate and die quietly to save them.

There had to be something he was planning. But he wouldn’t be able to share what it was, not in here. They were being closely watched, Figaro was sure, even if he couldn’t see the cameras. That was the problem with being betrayed by the people who trained you. They knew what your limits were and how to exceed them.

Ganesh looked up and their eyes met. There were numerous codes they both knew — hand signals, blink–semaphore, breathing patterns — but they were also known to the rest of the household staff. He should have developed private methods with each of the people he was closest to, but he had never thought this situation would arise. A lesson learnt.

“How long had Mackus been harbouring these ambitions?” he asked Ganesh.

“It never works like that,” said Ganesh. “If your father hadn’t met with an untimely end, I’m sure Mackus would never have made a move.”

“So he never coveted my father’s position, he coveted mine.”

“I don’t think he even sees it as yours. He was there before you. He was the one your father trained to lead in his stead. You never showed the same willingness, the same...”

“Ruthlessness?” Figaro nodded. He knew Ganesh was correct in his assessment. Mackus acted because he didn’t believe Figaro was up to the task. He might even be right. Sizing up a situation and formulating the correct strategy was what he was best at, after all.

“Is he wrong?” asked Ganesh.

“Yes,” said Figaro. “Not about my temperament, we all know I don’t think the way my father does. But in terms of leading in his place, there isn’t even a need to debate the point. The only voice that counts is Ramon Ollo’s, and he chose me. I’ve never been able to prove him wrong before, despite trying my hardest, I doubt I will be able to now.”

“That is good to hear,” said Ganesh. “You are at a disadvantage and you do not have a full picture of the environment, while your enemies are able to make and remake your surroundings as they will. What are you going to do?”

Figaro smiled. Even now, Ganesh was treating him as the student Figaro would always be in his eyes.

“Nothing,” said Figaro. “We wait.”

“For what? There is no hope of him changing his mind.”

“I don’t expect him to,” said Figaro. “But my time away wasn’t wasted, Ganesh. I learned many new things, new ways of seeing the world, the stars. They are only the doors we have yet to open. The Antecessors spoke to me, directed me here. They need something from me and they won’t allow Mackus to stand in the way. He isn’t nearly as prepared as he thinks he is.”

“Whatever you saw,” said Ganesh, “it was millennia old. A message from a dead civilisation.”

“No, not dead,” said Figaro. “They took my father to let me know they are waiting for me. He isn’t dead, either, he’s a hostage.”

Ganesh had a startled look on his face.

“No, I’m not crazy,” said Figaro, pleased he could surprise the man who usually guessed his every move before he even thought of it. “My mind can’t be fooled so easily. You know why? Mackus made sure of it. He ensured I would always be able to trust one eye–witness account beyond reproach — mine. I’m sad that I will have to kill Mackus, but I will do it anyway. There will be some who I won’t be able to tell if they were complicit in this or merely deceived. I will kill them also, which will be painful, but there is no other option. But whatever happens, I promise you this, I will make sure your family get to safety, if I am able. I may not be my father, but neither am I my mother.”

Ganesh let out a snort. “It seems you’ve grown quite a lot since we last met. Ha! I never thought I would be surprised by you of all people. I thought I knew all your moves, including the future ones. Who has been influencing you, hm? Don’t tell me you have replaced old Ganesh with a new teacher.”

“No,” said Figaro. “But new friends can also teach you things. I hope to introduce you to them one day soon.”

“I look forward to it,” said Ganesh. “But first, you have to find a way out of here. A room your father made to keep you prisoner in the event of you losing control of yourself.”

“Only if I lose control of myself.”

Ganesh pointed at the bracelet on Figaro’s wrist. “With that, they can force you into that state whenever they wish. Your father’s precautions will activate to their fullest level and not even I will be able to do anything about it.”

“True,” said Figaro, looking around the room where he had spent many days and nights during his childhood when he had been at the mercy of the organic inside him. It looked much smaller now. “But what Mackus and Dr Yune don’t understand is that the organic was not what my father wanted me to master, it was only ever a catalyst.”

“A catalyst? For what?”

“It took me a while to realise why I would stumble onto an Antecessor secret in the middle of nowhere. My father is Ramon Ollo, Ganesh. He didn’t send me away to learn something he couldn’t teach me, he sent me to fetch it.”

Chapter 461

Cheng hadn’t been paying attention to the conversation so he wasn’t sure what Biadet had just accused him of. He looked around the dinner table with a slightly gormless expression. He was getting good at the whole husband thing.

He hadn’t really been very interested in anything that had happened since I’d arrived. He had more pressing matters to take care of, it seemed.

He had no interest in what had happened back in Flatland and he only asked about my plans here to be polite. I got the sense he was indulging me because Mandy was all excited about someone from over there coming back, and she’d have someone to talk to so she’d probably given him a talking to about being nice and friendly and not eating them. That was until she found out it was me.

But it wasn’t surprising that he’d have his own plans for this world. He was an archdemon, after all.

“You have an army of monsters?” I asked him. “Do tell.”

He raised an eyebrow in my general direction. “Me? No. Not as such.”

“I sense them,” said Biadet, her tone flat and undaunted. “They pulse with a desire for violence.” She looked around the table. “Can’t you feel the constant throbbing under your feet?”

“I did feel something,” I said, “but I thought the central heating was on the blink. Come on, Cheng, how many have you got hidden in the dark? Are they the big ones with wings or the freaky little things that crawl in through the ears and burrow into the brain? How big is the army? Legion?”

Cheng frowned and ran his tongue over his greasy lips. A forked tongue. “It is not an army. My presence attracts a certain level of undesired attention.” He looked at me when he said it.

“Like dung attracting flies,” said Biadet, nodding.

Cheng took a moment to stop himself from killing everyone at the table and avoiding this whole conversation. I could tell that was what was going through his mind from the way his nostrils flared. It’s a subtle thing, but if you’ve been in as many awkward conversations as I have, you learn to recognise the signs.

“They are not under the house,” he said, “or even in this world. They exist in a separate place that is close to this one, but not one the same plane.”

“The adjacent world,” I said. “That’s good. That means there’s a way to get there from here, right? You could open a portal to it, no?”

“Not without letting them in at the same time.”

“Sure, sure,” I said, “but that’s okay. Might actually be a good idea. Would make people sit up and pay attention, stop them being so preoccupied with their tedious shit if a host of demons descended on them while they were doing their Saturday shopping. People need to be shaken out of their stupor every now and then, like with punk, except the demon horde probably have better lyrics.”

I quite liked the idea of leaving the door between planes open on my way out. I might not be interested in saving this world from the horrendous mediocrity it had settled for, but I wouldn’t mind seeing it turn into a genuine battleground. Can’t get a deferment for bone spurs when the apocalypse arrives.

“That is not something I would wish on them,” said Cheng. His concern was that the demons wouldn’t have a very nice time if they were brought here. He was probably right. Treated like second-class citizens just because they happened to be foreign.

Why can’t they talk the same language as us and eat food that isn’t weird and disgusting? All they do is fly down, pull people’s heads off and suck their innards out of their necks. They’re not even trying to fit in.

I didn’t know Cheng very well. I knew who he was and what he represented in a vague way, but most of my interactions with him had been focused on not dying and getting the hell out of Monsterland.

If I took a moment to think about it, though, I’d say he didn’t think very much of people. It wasn’t that he didn’t see us as equals, he didn’t see us at all, unless someone pointed us out to him.

We were beneath him, in every sense. He’d married into the family, but he wasn’t looking to hang out with the cousins. Couldn’t really blame him, but when it came to sorting this place out, in a way that would actually be effective, he did strike me as a very promising candidate.

“Cheng,” I said in my most affable tone.

“No,” said Cheng, before I’d even had a chance to offend him with my suggestions for how he could better spend his time.

“Fine, but listen anyway. You’re new here, so you don’t know what it’s like. Lush fertile ground, dense populations, all the oil you can steal from people who are barely armed. Anything a drone can do, you guys can do twice as good and at least fifteen times more accurately.”

“Wait,” said Lillian, “are you trying to sell him on invading the planet?” She didn’t sound like she approved of the idea.

“Why not? Someone’s going to fuck up this place, why not him and his boys.”

“I wouldn’t call them boys,” said Cheng.

“Sorry for assuming their gender,” I said to him. Who knew pronouns were an issue in the demon world? “It’s hard to know what they are when most of them have no genitalia.”

“They have genitalia,” said Cheng. “Just not on the outside.” He sniffed, like he didn’t approve of that idea.

“In any case,” I said, swiftly getting off the genitalia, “I’ve been looking at this all wrong. I’ve been so busy trying to come up with ways to not get involved, I didn’t see the answer standing next to me.” I pointed at Cheng with both hands.

“Still very much no,” he said. He carried on eating with the clear intention of loading up the dishwasher and then getting back to work in his den where people couldn’t bother him. I sympathised, but only in the usual way where it wouldn’t actually stop me from badgering the shit out of him.

“Sure, you say that now, but just wait.” I had only now realised this was the solution, so I needed a little time to come up with a way to trick, I mean, convince Cheng into taking over planet Earth and making it his dominion. I doubted most people would even notice.

“Are you encouraging him to take over the planet and turn it into a nightmarish wasteland?” asked Lillian.

“You’re making it sound negative,” I said. “Encouraging people is a positive thing.”

“Not when you’re encouraging them to destroy the lives of millions of people.” Lillian was taking the moral high ground, like that would impress me. Idiot.

“You clearly don’t bother with the financial bit of the news. Encouraging people to fuck over as many people as possible is all we do. It’s called capitalism, and it works very well. Lillian, wake up, there is no good guy coming to save the day. Evil won a long time ago, and then they changed the rules so they would stay in power. You can’t supplant evil. No supplanting. Not with love and faith and good vibes. But!” I looked around the table with a big grin. “What if you challenge them not with a man in a white hat, but a big fuck off demon? Beat them at their own game. What are they going to do? Accuse the enemy of not playing fair?”

I was quite pleased with myself. All I had to do was set Cheng up with a broad plan. Start in Australia and expand through SouthEast Asia, if Risk was a good indicator of how to conquer the world (which it bloody well wasn’t). And how hilarious would it be to see the Aussies realise immigration isn’t actually a huge issue when death imps are chewing your face off. Perfect.

“I’m afraid I am not interested in the problems of this tiny world,” said Cheng. Playing hard to get, the tease.

“Colin,” said Lillian, “you can’t think like that. There is always hope. And that hope is you.”

Everyone stared at her incredulously, including me.

“No,” I said. “That’s not me. It’s him, I’m telling you.”

“Colin, I have an ability. It might not be as impressive as yours, but it allows me a glimpse of the future. And you are that future. You’re the one who can make a difference. You’re the one who can save us. You just have to believe in yourself.”

“Have you not met him before?” said Mandy.

Biadet made a strange gurgling sound.

“Was that you laughing?” I said. I’d never heard her laugh before, so it was possible.

“No,” said Biadet. “That was me choking. This chicken isn’t very fresh. It was killed several days ago. You people are barbarians.” Didn’t stop her from eating.

“Lillian,” I said, “your ability isn’t real. You may think it works, and sometimes the results might be what you expect, but that’s just confirmation bias. Whatever you think is going to happen, the universe will take a huge dump on it and then post the pics on its Instagram. Trust me, you’re way off.”

There’s not a lot I know about the future, but I know I won’t be the one with top billing and a backend deal.

“But with our help—”

“Not even then,” I said. “And don’t be fooled, your people won’t be helping me. They’ll say that’s what they want to do, but then this other stuff will happen which means, unfortunately, they’ll have to change direction and, regrettably, fuck me in the arse.”

The voice of experience; sounds a lot like the voice of rectal shredding.

Lillian looked at Cheng with a horrified quiver of the lips.

“Do not be concerned,” said Cheng. “I have no intention of laying waste to your world. Improvements like that take far too much time and commitment.”

“That’s fine,” I said. “This is to be expected. The villain’s journey always starts with a reluctant villain refusing the call to slaughter.”

Lillian stood up and threw her napkin on the table. “I’ve put myself on the line for you. I told them you put on an act like you didn’t care about anything, but you’re hiding a genuine desire to help people.”

“Ha!” said Mandy.

Biadet made the gurgling sound again.

Lillian looked around the table, ending on me. “If you go down this path, the whole world will unite against you.”

It was hard not to roll my eyes. “If that were true I’d definitely go down this road, but this lot couldn’t work together if their lives depended on it. Which it will.”

There are lots of movies where a terrible disaster or an alien invasion force enemies to put aside their differences and work together against a common foe. Get the fuck out of here.

“What about the crystal ball?” said Lillian.

“What about it?”

“It worked, didn’t it? Like I said it would. It brought her here. It let you speak to Jenny.”

“Okay,” I said, not sure what she was getting at.

“We have more of them.”

“More balls?”

“No, more artefacts. Magical ones. We aren’t sure what all of them do, but they’re powerful. Books, rings, a wooden sword.”

That got my attention. “Where did you get them from?”

“I can’t tell you that. But I can show you.” She could see she had my interest now. “Come with me, they aren’t far.”

“Where? Locked up in the Tower of London?”

“No,” she said, like that was a ridiculous idea. “They’re stored at Bletchley Park.”

Right, because that’s not a ridiculous cliché. “Bring them here.”

“I can’t. You have to come with me.”

“What do you mean you can’t? Says who? I’m not walking into some trap. Bring them here and I might change my mind. Until then, the demon conquest idea is favourite.”

“No,” said Cheng, living up to the classic antihero archetype.

Lillian left the table. “I’ll be back.”

“Can you make it in the morning?” said Biadet. “I’m very tired. Where can I sleep?”

“In my room,” I said. Looks were sent my way. Not friendly ones.

“Okay,” said Biadet.

“We have more bedrooms,” said Mandy.

“I know,” I said. “Get your mind out of the gutter, you unrepentant tart. Don’t judge me by your standards. You sleep with a demon.”

“That was your idea,” said Mandy, outraged.

Some people never take responsibility for their choices.

After seeing Lillian out, we retired for the night. My reasons for wanting Biadet with me were purely selfish. There were all sorts of dodgy government types out there, willing to kidnap, torture and commit war crimes and then claim diplomatic immunity. I’d never get a decent night’s sleep with all that going on.

Biadet, on the other hand, was a very calming influence. I didn’t have faith in much, but you could put your trust in Biadet.

I put a pillow and sheets on the floor next to the bed.

“Are you afraid you won’t be able to control yourself if you share the bed with me?” asked Biadet.

“I’m afraid of Jenny…” I realised that was the end of the sentence.

I lay down and started thinking of a world where every evil piece of shit in a position of power looked out of their window at demons soaring through the skies and feeling like life just wasn’t fair. Born rich and privileged but still a packed lunch for a monster. It was too perfect.

I woke up in darkness. Someone was moving around the room and the window was open.

“What?” I said. I had no fear since Biadet was close by and she would destroy whoever it was if they meant me any harm.

A strange gurgling sound drifted across from the bed. I realised it was Biadet snoring.

“Hello, Colin,” said a woman’s voice. “I have come to make you an offer.” She had a slight accent.

“From who?” I sat up and tried to get my bearings. There was enough light coming in the open window to provide an outline.

“From my government.”

I grabbed my phone from under the pillow — you never know when you might need to check your emails — and turned on the torch.

She was a short Chinese woman, black hair pulled back into a ponytail, silky black clothes. Very pretty and delicate, although probably able to kill me with a well-placed kick. Not to perpetuate any stereotypes, but she had climbed up the side of a house and opened a locked window without anyone hearing her. Her knowing Kung Fu would be the least surprising thing about her.

“The Chinese government want me to work for them?” It would be very embarrassing if she turned out to be Korean.

“No. Partners. We will be partners. We will help you.”

“And in return?”

“We take forty percent, that is all. And you will speak to Cheng for us. He is one of us. His mother was one of us. You will speak to him, bring him home.”

They wanted Cheng, I was just the go-between.

“His mother was from Hong Kong,” I said. “He might not like what you’re doing over there.”

“He will understand. You will speak to him.”

I stood up. “And if I say no?”

“Very sorry.” She stabbed me in the neck with a needle.

I felt something cold seep into my blood. I could follow it as it spread. I breathed in and pushed it back. My mouth filled with white light and I spat it out. A glowing mist enveloped the Chinese girl’s shocked face like she was caught in a cloud of fireflies.

Another figure jumped out of the shadows. I hadn’t even noticed there was someone else here. The punch came out of nowhere.

I’m not proud of how I reacted, although it was pretty cool. I grabbed the girl’s hair and pulled it. Her face came towards me and caught the punch on the nose. She fell in front of me as her mate followed up with the other fist. I tuned her elbow and brought up her hand, the one holding the needle, and let the second punch take it in the knuckles.

There was a small hiss and then number two fell on top of number one. Whatever had been in the syringe, it must have been pretty nasty.

Now I had a bedroom full of people. Rumours would start and I’d never be able to hold my head up in the local supermarket.

Luckily, the two intruders were both small and light. I managed to pick them up and push them out of the window. It was their point of entry, I was just seeing them out in their preferred method. They landed with a flump on the ground below. Probably not dead but I didn’t really give a shit. I closed the window.

“You’re getting better at that sort of thing,” said Biadet. “You might not even need me to save your life anymore.”

“I probably will,” I said as I lay down again.

“Yes,” she said. “You probably will.”

Book 2 – 17: Power to the People

Third Quadrant.

Planet Enaya.

Elect City.

The Judicature.

 

Colonel Toaku, Eastern Director of the Regional Judicature, landed on the roof of the Elect City Judicature Complex and stepped off his official transport module before the gangway had fully lowered. He walked briskly across the exposed and windy rooftop, through the door held open by a Judicature officer, into an elevator being held for him by another officer.

He nodded at the officer just before he entered the elevator to indicate he wanted the doors closed and the car moving as soon as he was aboard.

As he turned around to face the closed doors, he took his first breath since landing. He was agitated and annoyed. He didn’t want to be here but the city Legat had insisted, sent a personal messenger — not a message, not a drone, an actual person — to summon him like some junior assistant.

Obviously, it was an important matter. It had better be. To call him away from a murder investigation, one that, if not handled correctly, could adversely affect the future of millions, was no small matter.

Twelve members of the General Assembly, slain in cold blood. Once news of the deaths became public… he needed to have a suspect at the very least. Preferably in custody. The location of the murders and the family name involved only made the sensitivity of the matter even greater.

The elevator doors opened. He stepped into a long hallway. Officers in dress uniform stood to attention on either side. More officers were stationed further along the hallway. It was noticeable that there were no drones present.

“Colonel,” said the senior officer present. “I am Lieut—”

“Yes, yes, enough with the formalities,” said Toaku. “Where is the Legat?”

The Lieutenant looked a little thrown but quickly gathered himself. “This way, sir.”

Toaku was led through the gauntlet of stiff officers to the large double doors at the other end of the hallway. There were no other doors.

The double doors opened as they approached, and a thin woman with an angular face stood ready to greet him. “I’ll take it from here, Lieutenant.”

The lieutenant gracefully moved to the side and took his place among the honour guard, looking quite relieved.

Toaku gave him the briefest of nods. No point blaming him for this farrago. He walked into a large office, an older woman seated behind a desk with screens surrounding her. She looked up to acknowledge his arrival.

“Ah, Colonel, good. Thank you for coming.”

“Look, what’s all this about, Legat? You know the situation at the moment. Is my presence really—”

“I’m afraid so.” She stood up, a short woman in a plain blue suit. Very much a worker. She wouldn’t have called him like this over something frivolous, he knew.

“Alright. What’s so important you wouldn’t even send me a message?”

“It’s not that I wouldn’t, our communications have been disrupted — scrambled to pieces might be more accurate.”

Taoku’s brow furrowed. “A deliberate act?”

“Very much so.”

“Any idea who?”

“According to our surveillance drones, you.”

Taoku was momentarily stunned into silence. “Are… are you suggesting I—”

“No, no. Let me explain. First, let me show you something.” She waved her hand and the screens hovering around her turned to face him. “This is our current situation.”

She tapped the desktop and the screens showed the room with the three of them from numerous angles. She tapped again and the view shifted to analytical mode, revealing everything about them down to their undergarments. But that was not what was most disturbing about what he was being shown. The name next to each of them was clearly incorrect. He was not and had never been Crostov Nylan, whoever that was.

“What’s going on here? Has the whole system been corrupted?”

“Just the city network as far as we’ve been able to detect,” said the Legat. “It’s somewhat difficult to get a complete picture when our detection system is the thing that’s been compromised, as I’m sure you can imagine. But with the case you’re working...”

“Yes, I see.” Toaku nodded, his mind trying to see how this might be related to his current assignment. It could just be a coincidence, but then again, perhaps not. “And you say my name popped up?”

“More than that. Let me show you.” She tapped the desk, this time swiping and moving her palms in a circle.

The picture on the screens shifted to a platform in the City Station. There appeared to be a small riot going on with drones forming a ring around the passengers emerging from one of the cars.

“With the identification system not working,” said the Legat, “the drones are misidentifying everyone. Putting wrong names to citizens and visitors alike. This person was identified as you.”

One of the screens zoomed in on a young man. He didn’t look remarkable in any way, except that he appeared to be very relaxed as he casually strolled past the drone cordon.

“The drones allowed him to pass thinking he was you. But look how easily he accepts the mistake.”

Toaku watched and agreed. “Like he was expecting it.”

“Yes. From what we’ve managed to extract from the other passengers, he accessed the network using one of their communicators.”

“That’s not possible,” said Toaku.

“Indeed. The Ollo Network is meant to be impregnable. From the outside.”

This couldn’t be a coincidence. The city network installed by Ramon Ollo, able to see everything, everywhere, suddenly rendered useless at the same time as twelve Senate members were found dead on the Ollo residence. Which happened to also be the one place where the surveillance architecture didn’t have access.

What was going on? For all this to happen when Ramon Ollo himself was missing, presumed dead… it suggested someone was attempting a quiet revolution. Perhaps Ollo himself, if he had faked his disappearance. But that wasn’t the man’s style. If he wanted to assume control, he would just do it.

“This person who assumed my identity,” said Toaky, “where is he now?”

“We don’t know.”

“But even if the identification protocols have been switched, can’t you locate me, or the person the system thinks is me?”

“Your identity has been reported in several different locations. Each a different person. It’s the only ID that’s been doing that, which also raised suspicions.”

“Good,” said Toaku.

“Good? Why is that good?”

“He isn’t perfect. Either he couldn’t scramble all the entire network or he didn’t have time. Either way, he made a mistake. This person, do you have a name for him.” He pointed at the stocky figure hurrying after his namesake.

“Yes.” The legat brought up a close–up of the man. He looked annoyed. The name next to him was Janeane Ingwe.

“Locate her. Him.”

“But—”

“They’re together. We might not be able to track him but she, he might not have the same protection.”

The Legat nodded and did as asked. “I’ve found her, him. The Battle Arena.”

“Watching a show?” said Toaku.

“No,” said the Legat. “A contestant. In the women’s competition.”

Toaku gave the Legat a questioning look. She shrugged.

“Legat, I don’t know what’s happening here, but there’s a very strong chance this is part of some larger conspiracy.”

She nodded. “I think so too. That’s why I felt it was important to bring you in on this.

“You did the right thing, Legat.” Toaku looked at the two young men on the screen, casually walking away from the chaos they had started.

Who were they? Assassins? Professional agitators? Terrorists?

“I’m going to bring in my team. We’re being stonewalled by the Ollo staff. They may be involved in this. In the meantime, can you organise surveillance on the arena. Nothing obvious, just send in a few agents undercover, some spotters on the roofs.”

“Snipers?”

“Yes, as a precaution,” said Toaku. “I want to find out what else they’re planning. Let’s keep an eye on them until I can bring in my own team. My drones are on an independent network. No Ollo infrastructure.”

If this was an Ollo inside job, they weren’t going to compromise his department the way they had the city. His drones were designed to handle just this sort of situation. Colonel Ki Toaku was no fool, he had been preparing for something like this his whole career. They might be able to bypass their own security protocols, but they would find his drones a different prospect altogether. Only a tronics genius could hope to penetrate the complex defence system he had had installed. Ramon Ollo himself would struggle to find a weakness in it.

“Excellent,” said the Legat. “Elect City is glad to have you here, Colonel. My people are at your disposal. Enaya for the people.”

Toaku nodded. “Thank you. Enaya for the people.” It was time outsiders no longer had any say in their future.

 

***

 

Third Quadrant.

Planet Enaya — orbit.

RNSC Three Bars.

 

Regional Manager Carl Yulang was feeling comfortable in his chair on the bridge of the Roaming Network support carrier Three Bars. Initially, he had been reluctant to divert his mission to the Ruben Cluster to come to this small asteroid owned by Ramon Ollo.

Even if there were a new Antecessor site opening here, the Ollo family name was enough to guarantee no one else would be allowed to profit from it. But now that the absence of Ramon Ollo had been confirmed, there were only the other supercorporations to deal with, and they had their own way of splitting up a claim. Battle. Using the only kind of weapon that counted — financial muscle.

There were the smaller firms, first class companies at best, sniffing around for scraps, a few independents, but they knew they weren’t in this contest.

The Central Authority vessel had been a minor complication, but with it out of the way, the field was wide open. And there was no way any of them would be blamed for the Nirvana’s destruction. The ship had self–destructed. The cost had to be astronomical. The thought made him chuckle to himself.

“I raise the bid to one hundred million,” said Captain Baresi of the Hi–Rise Construction Vessel Midway.

“You know we’re only accepting standard currency,” said Yulang.

“Of course,” said Baresi. “Too rich for you?”

The bidding system was straightforward enough. Whoever offered the most money, won the claim. The others split the money and went on their way. Legal, profitable and equitable. As long as you knew the worth of what you were bidding on.

“No, no, perfectly acceptable. Let me consult with my people.” Yulang turned to his negotiation team, strapped into their harnesses, brains plugged directly into the ship’s mainframe. “Come on, come on, what’s his ceiling.”

Organics, supercomputers and spreadsheets full of data that they weren’t supposed to have access to were meant to give him an edge in this auction. But everyone else had the same edge. He could get lucky, though. One of his organics might have a breakthrough.

“Can you hurry it along,” said one of the other bidders still in the game. “The Central Authority are going to send reinforcements eventually.”

“Ha,” scoffed Yulang. “Eventually is right. And then they’ll just dither over subclauses in their treaties and charters. Leave them to me.”

“Good, because we have just received a signal. We have incoming.”

“What?" He turned the comms over to his crew channel. “Check the sensor array, you worthless hacks.”

“Incoming,” said one of the helmsmen. “Detected at—”

“Yes, yes, well done." He needed to address the staffing issues. “Put it on the screen.”

The wall in front of him shimmered and revealed a mundane star field. And then the blankness of space warped as six ships emerged from subspace. Six giant CA vessels, white boxes that dwarfed the ships around the asteroid.

“This is the Central Authority. We are assuming control of this region. Stand down and await further instructions.”

Yulang smiled to himself. Automated ships, no guardians. This would be even easier than he’d thought.

“Petition to make arguments,” he said.

There was a pause. “Petition accepted. We will schedule—”

“We also wish to make a petition,” said one of the other ships, followed by the rest. They would have the CA ships tied up for weeks.

“Incoming,” said one of the helmsmen.

“Yes, I know, they’re already here.”

“Another ship. Behind us. A biggie.”

“Can’t you even try to sound professional? Put it on the screen.”

The picture changed. There was nothing but stars. “Where? I can’t—” Then he saw it. Moving fast. Too fast. And huge. And heavily armed. But that wasn’t the worst of it.

“Damn it.”

A high–pitched scream cut through all channels.

“This is the Seneca Corps," said a female voice. "We are here on a humanitarian mission. Leave or die.”

One of the first class firms broke into the main channel. “We have no business with you or—”

“Leave or die. All of you. Central Authority vessels, we are triggering clause three.”

“Understood,” said the CA drone. “We will retreat to the edge of the blast zone.” The CA vessels began to reverse.

“Shit,” said Yulang. “Get us out of here. I don’t want to be here when they turn this place into a black hole. Someone must have really pissed them off. Come on, come on. Fire thrusters.”

Every ship circling the small asteroid turned around and left. Everyone wanted to make money, but no one wanted it posthumously.

Chapter 460

Occasionally, it’s glorious to be me. It’s rare and only happens under very specific circumstances, but this was one of those times.

The elements required are me and a bunch of people with inferiority complexes who’ve convinced themselves that they aren’t at the very bottom of the pile.

They’re not worth shit, they know that, they look at themselves in the mirror every morning and evening and feel deep shame and embarrassment, but there are still people beneath them, which allows them to keep going.

At least I’m not them. It’s all some people have.

And then here I come, the embodiment of everything they can happily look down on, only, for some unfathomable reason, I seem to be rolling them over.

The foyer was full of men in riot gear and precautionary padding. The whole point of that kind of get–up is to prevent yourself getting hurt while you try to control someone doing their best to hurt you.

It’s a bit like when you have a playfight with your girlfriend and she tries a little too hard to prove the self–defence classes she took that one summer during college put her out of the reach of violent men forever, and you have to try your best to avoid getting elbowed in the eye while making sure you don’t accidentally throw her off the sofa and break her neck.

That’s how those shields and water cannons and non–lethal bullets are supposed to be used.

But with the police and the army and all the other forms of security forces being full of sad men who can’t find another way of getting the respect they know they deserve (because no one but them knows the horrific shit they get up to on the internet late at night, so why would they not get respect like other well–adjusted, totally normal guys?) what you get is equipment that helps them feel like they are powerful and in control. Cheating and getting away with it, every casuals dream.

“You heard me, you bunch of dickheads,” I said with a smile, “get the fuck out.”

The men didn’t move other than to slightly exaggerate their surly expressions into surlier ones.

Even though they had been outclassed by a young girl, they could mentally deal with that. She was an unknown quantity, an alien or a robot or some clone of a mighty warrior. Put her in the UFC and the internet would idolise her (until she got a boyfriend or put on weight).

I, on the other hand, was not the peak of caucasian masculinity. I looked like a weedy bloke who didn’t have the balls to say anything when someone cut in line ahead of me. Which I was.

Why should I get to tell them what to do? They had extendable batons that could be used to beat unarmed students waving poorly designed banners. What did I have? A big mouth and trousers that didn’t fit very well even though I’d taken my measurements before ordering them online because asking to use the changing rooms in a store makes me nervous.

I could see why they’d be a little put out. Which made the whole thing much, much funnier. These were the times when I liked to take charge of a situation and throw my weight around, just to upset people’s sense of fairness.

“Oi, dipshit squad, you just lost to a little girl, don’t give me the eye like you think five minutes alone with me and you’d prove what real men you are. You’d come out with a colostomy bag on the end of your penis. Because you’d be shitting out of your dicks for the rest of your lives. Out. Now.”

Fixed stares were all I got in return. They weren’t listening to me but I was hurting them on the inside. Give me a couple more hours and I’d have them sobbing.

“Look what you’ve done to my foyer,” said Mandy, kid on her hip and bottom lip pushed out. “You better pay to get his cleaned up. I want it back the way it was. Cheng!”

Cheng sighed, which sounded like a backed–drain about to spew out some nasty shit

Now they boys moved, and sharpish. I’ll admit I didn’t have quite the same effect as a foul demon from another world, or even Cheng, but that was okay.

I saw them to the door and watched them pick up Gaston, dazed and cut up, and walk down the drive with heads bowed and shoulders sagging. I made a point of standing there for a while and then I slowly pulled up my zipper and tightened my belt. If the other parties were watching, their intelligence services around the globe would think twice before barging in on me again. Either that or they’d only send their best–dressed agents.

“I’m starving,” I said. “What about you Biadet? Fancy some British cuisine? By which I mean ordering a curry, obviously.”

“I said I’m cooking dinner,” said Mandy.

Biadet gave me an impassive look, and then she fainted.

“Now see what you did,” I said to Mandy.

We got Biadet onto the sofa or, rather, Cheng did. She weighed hardly anything so I could have done it myself, but I have a bad back and a deviated septum.

I gave her a burst of healing, one hand on her forehead and the other holding her wrist. I wasn’t sure what exactly was wrong with her or where the source of the problem was, so I assumed it was a general end of warranty type thing and flooded her with the power of my vitality. Took a while.

It didn’t seem to make much difference. She looked pale and fragile and there was a good chance I wasn’t going to be able to stop her deteriorating. Seemed a little harsh to make me her Make–A–Wish Foundation coordinator. Maybe I could get her a meet and greet with John Cena.

Eventually, Biadet opened her eyes. She looked at me with no sense of gratitude or appreciation, which was how I preferred it.

“You owe me your life,” I said. “Again.”

“You only extended the time I have left by a little,” said Biadet, her voice a little weak. “I owe you rent, at the most.”

“I haven’t finished yet,” I said. “You’ll be back to full health in no time. I might even make you a bit taller so you can sit at the dinner table without a booster seat.”

“I don’t use a booster seat,” said Biadet, her voice returning to its full strength and a little extra venom.

“There you go, back to normal.” I stood up and turned to find Lillian staring at me. “What?”

“I don’t think you appreciate quite how amazing what you just did was.”

I shrugged and blew out some air. “It doesn’t make much difference when the rest of the world is full of fools and scumbags. Takes the shine off for me.”

“You lack perspective,” she said.

“I don’t think you appreciate how little I care what value other people put on things. You work for evil people, Lillian. Try putting that in perspective.”

“I work for the British government,” said Lillian.

“Have you seen who’s in charge?” I asked.

“There are worse people in the world,” said Lillian. The state of the world summed up perfectly.

“Good, she’s not dead,” said Mandy, appearing in an apron with a picture of a buxom woman’s body in a bikini printed on it. I suspected it was a selfie. “Dinner’s ready.” She looked very proud of herself.

Dinner was a roast chicken with all the trimmings and very good. And definitely not homemade, even though there were used pots and pans everywhere and evidence of much cooking having been done. Carefully planted evidence.

Still, the alternative was for Mandy to have actually made it herself and us having to stomach it. Everyone decided to just pretend we believed in her culinary abilities.

Enjoying a meal after defeating an enemy brought back memories for me. Of course, back in Flatland we had to catch, kill, gut our own food, which wasn’t very pleasant. Here, you could just order a pizza from Domino’s; which some would say is also not very pleasant.

Biadet examined each forkful of food before eating it and then chewed very slowly. Her first impressions of what this world had to offer were slow and contemplative, rushing to no judgements and taking it all in. Very different to my first experiences of her world, but then she didn’t have a giant naked ogre chasing her while she tried Yorkshire pudding for the first time. Although, maybe it would be different if she was trying them in Yorkshire.

“This tastes like chicken,” she said as she ate the chicken.

“It is chicken,” said Mandy.

Biadet shook her head, looking at the carcass in the middle of the dinner table. “It only has two legs.”

We ate mostly in silence, the sound of chewing and bones cracking coming from Biadet’s mouth. Cheng, on the other hand, was very minimalist, which I thought was probably the result of training (or nagging, as it’s technically known).

“Well, this is nice,” said Mandy, playing the role of host.

“Yes,” I said. “My compliments to the chef.”

“Thank you,” said Mandy, very firmly taking the credit.

“Hey, Lillian,” I said. “These governments spying on us, have they got the house bugged.”

She nodded while eating. It looked like our government didn’t pay her enough for big dinners and she was loading up for winter. This is why the Chinese get all the best people. That and the kidnapping and forced labour camps.

“Hello, international agents of villainy,” I said to the ceiling, although there was no reason to think that’s where they were listening from. Might be a spy satellite, might be a baby monitor from Argos stuffed under the fridge. “You are the bad guys and no one likes you.”

“Good job,” said Mandy. “That’ll show them.”

“They keep records of these things,” I pointed out. “Twenty years from now, the public will hear that.”

“Twenty years from now,” said Lillian, “there may not be anyone left.”

“You know something we don’t?” I asked.

“Lots,” said Lillian.

“Can I ask you something dumb?” said Mandy.

“Sure,” said Lillian. “There are no stupid questions.”

“Wanna bet?” I said. I was ignored.

“Why help them?” said Mandy. “You know they only care about themselves. You seem like a nice person. No matter how much they say they have everyone’s best interests at heart, they won’t keep their word. They never do.”

It was a heartfelt and touching query from a young mother worried about the future, only slightly undercut by the piece of carrot that had lodged itself into her cleavage. I knew I shouldn’t stare but I couldn’t look away.

“It’s not that I trust them,” said Lillian. “I don’t. But things have gone too far to do nothing, and we only have a limited choice. The Americans are far too mercenary, the Russians are brutal and the Chinese… they can’t be allowed to control this new world. We’re the only reasonable choice left, even if we do have our faults.” She looked at me. “You can’t just do nothing and hope things turn out okay.”

“I don’t give a shit how things turn out,” I said. “I only hope people leave me alone.”

“We can provide you with whatever you need, including personal space,” said Lillian. “We can be the friends you can count on.”

“Friends?” I said. “Motherfucker I don’t even like you.” She flinched and looked a bit hurt. An awkward silence descended. “What? It’s a song lyric.”

They didn’t look like they believed me, the uncultured swines.

“Look,” I said, “it doesn’t matter what your intentions are or what the other countries intentions are, as soon as they get over there and realise they have an advantage, it’ll be round up the natives and teach them about Jesus or Mohammed or whoever.”

At this point I could almost hear Jenny say, “It’s pronounced Jehovah,” and then look very pleased with herself. Some guys miss sex or affection, for me it was the bad puns. The thought of her only made me feel angry that I was stuck here with these people who had no idea how to be people.

“And then the priests will start doing all their horrible shit. You’ll like how we do religion here,” I said to Biadet. “We have this place called Heaven where the good people go when they die, but you have to pass an entrance exam and everyone thinks they’ll pass even though none of them have studied or remembered to bring a pen.”

“Heaven,” said Biadet. “How do you get there?”

“No one knows. You die, you wake up and you’re already there. Ask Lillian, she can talk to the dead. Actually, don’t. She’ll probably contact my mother.” I shuddered at the thought.

“Your mother died and went to heaven?” asked Biadet.

“No, she died and went in an oven.” I probably wasn’t explaining our death rituals very well. “I’m not going to help any of you,” I said to Lillian. “No one’s managed to work out how to make this place run properly, what the hell are you going to do over there?”

“This world is dying, Colin.” Lillian looked very serious. “Most people don’t realise, they keep the truth hidden, but it won’t last much longer. The ice will melt, the poles will flip, food will run out and the air will become unbreathable.”

“How long?” I asked. “Centuries? Decades?”

“Two years,” said Lillian.

I laughed and then choked on my chicken. “Sure.”

“It’s true. We need the other world to save us. It’s only a question of who ends up in charge. I understand your scepticism, and you may be right, but then we fight to make things better.”

“Let me ask you something, you know the bin in your kitchen, the big one. When it gets full up and bits are falling out but you can’t be bothered to change it so you push it down a bit and put off emptying, you know the feeling, right?” She nodded, looking a little baffled. “What if I gave you a second bin next to the first one. What do you think would end up happening? Clean and tidy kitchen?”

She frowned.

“I don’t care if this world has two years left, or two weeks. If it ends, it ends. The twats in charge don’t deserve a second chance at ruining everything, and the twats who let them be in charge don’t either. I don’t care.” And I didn’t, I realised. My love for my fellow man (or woman or any of the other gender) was nonexistent. Not out of spite or bitterness. I wasn’t upset because daddy never loved me. It was a merit–based thing. Earth had not made a very good first impression on me.

“I am finished,” said Biadet. Her plate was very clean, spotless, in fact. “Now, let us start.”

“Start what?” I asked.

“The first step in overcoming an enemy is to locate their base of operations and destroy it. Without proper control and guidance, nothing can be achieved. Individuals are too small and weak to act effectively on their own.”

“But we’re individuals,” I said. “We don’t have an army, unless you brought one with you.”

“No,” said biadet. “But he did.” She was looking at Cheng, who was dabbing his lips with a napkin. “I can feel them under the house.”

All eyes turned to Cheng. He stopped and looked up. “What? Have I got something on my chin?”