V. Moody's Blog, page 6

Book 3 – 87: Fields of Gold

Inner Quadrant.

Planet Soros - Core.

 

“It smells funny in here,” said Ubik. “Can’t you two smell it? Funky. Like something died.”

“When was the last time you bathed?” asked PT.

Fig snorted a short laugh and then quickly looked down at his control panel to avoid Ubik’s questioning gaze.

“The same time you did,” said Ubik, not minding the banter. It reminded him of old times, back on Epsilon-416, teasing his buddies as they undertook a job which promised high risks and high rewards.

That had been back when he was very young, when every job had been an adventure, and even failure was a lesson in how to escape with your life and perhaps, if you were lucky, a small bag of stolen goods stuffed inside your shirt.

He sniffed in PT’s direction. “It’s not you. You smell like spicy soup, left to stew a little too long.” He turned his head towards the narrow corridor ahead of them. “It’s coming from down there. I think it’s a rotting corpse.” He sniffed again. “Can’t tell if it’s male or female.”

“Can you normally tell the sex of a corpse by its smell?” asked PT.

“No,” said Ubik. “But there’s a first time for everything.”

“Well, I don’t smell anything,” said PT. He turned to Fig. “You?”

“No,” said Fig. “But he’s probably got a super-sensitive nose from growing up in a sewer, or something.”

“Of course he does,” said PT.

“Aren’t you going to go have a look?” asked Ubik.

“Aren’t you?” said PT.

They were standing at the bottom of a very deep shaft, with their ride behind them, lying on its side.

It wasn’t supposed to be on its side — judging from the configuration of the engines and the controls inside, it hadn’t been built to land again after taking off — but it had toppled over when Ubik had reversed the magnetic polarity of the lidanium coating that covered the ship’s surface.

The whole process had been a delicate one, requiring precise timing. Switch too early and the rocket would accelerate too fast and crash into the ground. Leave it too late, and the opposing forces on the hull would have torn it in half.

Either mistake would have resulted in an explosion that would have killed them and probably destroyed the planet. But you couldn’t let the small chances of annihilation stop you from taking a risk or two, as Grandma always said.

“I can’t detect any movement or life signs,” said Fig. “But I’m getting a lot of interference, so…”

“You should go take a quick look,” said Ubik. “I have a bad feeling about what’s through there.”

“You want me to go first?” said PT. “Why?”

“Because you have the best movement between the three of us. You can avoid getting hit the easiest.”

“You do have the best movement,” said Fig.

“It’s a narrow tunnel,” said PT. “I don’t think there’s enough room for any kind of movement.”

“Okay, I’ll go,” said Ubik. “You two stay here and guard my rocket.”

“Wait, wait,” said PT. “Is this some kind of double bluff to get us to stay here while you run off? Maybe I should go.”

“What if it’s a triple bluff?” said Fig.

“You’re right,” said PT. “But maybe that’s what he wants us to think.”

“Fine, we should all go,” said Ubik. “But don’t blame me if someone nicks the rocket while we’re gone.”

“It’s a giant bomb,” said PT. “I hope someone nicks it.”

Fig approached the tunnel entrance and peered in, checking his control panel and frowning.

“I think it’s safe. Probably.”

“Great,” said Ubik, slapping Fig on the back so that he was thrust into the tunnel. “Personally, I don’t think it’s safe, but I’m happy to go with your expert opinion. Coming?”

He could hear PT growling behind him, but that just meant he was on board and willing to ignore his own doubts. Perhaps ‘willing’ wasn’t the right word.

The three of them moved forward slowly, carefully investigating the floor and walls with Fig’s suit providing just about enough light. They encountered no danger and found no corpses.

Ubik could still smell the strange odour he couldn’t quite place, but there was no point worrying about it. They would find out what it was soon enough.

The light from Fig’s suit illuminated the walls, showing the Antecessor engravings but no active Antecessor white streaks. They were definitely in the right place.

“How long before they send someone down to check on us?” said PT.

“I reckon we’ve got at least an hour,” said Ubik. “Their readings are going to tell them the explosives are unstable and could go off at any moment.”

“You messed with their computer to give a false reading?” said PT.

“No,” said Ubik. “I made the explosives unstable.”

“Is that a joke, Ubik? He’s joking, right?”

Are we going to have to go through this for sixty more planets?” asked Fig. “I’m not sure we’ll have time.”

“No, we just have to fix the broken ones,” said Ubik. “Maybe this is the one causing all the problems. Fix one loose connection and all the lights come back on.”

“There’s an opening up ahead,” said Fig. “Get ready.”

“Oof, that smell’s getting stronger,” said Ubik.

They kept moving and carefully made their way through the archway at the end of the tunnel. It was dark and silent.

There was no ambush, in fact, no signs of life whatsoever. What they found was a large cavernous chamber similar to the one on Quazi, only this one was full of crates and boxes, some covered by sheets but all covered in dust.

“Looks like they’ve been using this place for storage,” said PT.

“The most powerful location on the planet, and they turned it into a warehouse,” said Fig.

“Ah, I found it,” said Ubik.

“Found what?” said PT.

“The source of the smell. Look.” He was pointing at what looked at first to be a pile of spare parts, but on closer inspection, they appeared to be the remains of a machine that had fallen apart and was covered in some kind of green and red mould.

“That’s the decomposing body you smelled?” said PT.

Ubik crouched down and poked it with a finger. “Looks like it used to be a robot. Pretty sophisticated one.”

“Looks like a pile of junk,” said PT.

“If Synthia heard you speak that way about one of hers, it’d break her heart.”

“No it wouldn’t,” said PT. “She doesn’t have a heart.”

Ubik shook his head sadly at the needless bigotry, but also because he couldn’t understand what had turned the robot — probably left to keep watch over all these boxes — into spoiled remains.

“Why is it green and red?” asked Fig. “Is it rust?”

“No,” said Ubik. “Looks more like accelerated ageing due to excessive load…” He realised as he said it there was only one way a robot could have been pushed to this sort of excessive decay.

He stood up and kicked the pile, sending up a cloud of red and green.

“What are you doing?” said PT, backing off.

Ubik didn’t have time for explanations. Under the pile was a circular design gouged into the ground. He clicked his heels together and passed his foot over the area. More dust was blown away, revealing the circular pattern more clearly.

“Under here,” said Ubik. “We need to open this.”

“Open what?” said PT.

“Looks the same as the rest of the floor,” said Fig.

“It’s concentrated here. The robot stood on top of it because of the buzz, but it was too much for it to take.” He could see the other two weren’t really following. “We just need to open it.”

“How?” said PT.

“Change it into a handle. The top part, make it so I can twist and pull on it.”

PT came closer and bent down. He placed his hand on top of the circle design. His eyes glowed in the dark and his hand raised up. A long rod appeared like a sprouting tree, with a looped part at the top.

PT backed away, a little unsteady.

“Are you okay?” asked Fig.

Of course he was okay, it was just a little manipulation of matter.

Ubik took hold of the handle and turned it. There was probably a better way to do it, but he would need to be an Antecessor — or have one working for him — to know how to do it.

The circle turned and came up, just enough to let out a deep hiss.

White liquid rushed out from the edges of the circle like it was overflowing.

It ran into grooves in the ground, rapidly spreading across the floor.

Boxes and crates were tossed aside and rolled over.

The white liquid ran up the walls, lighting up the chamber.

Softly glowing balls of light appeared in the air all around them. Within a few seconds, they formed sigils.

“There you go, all done,” said Ubik. “Check if we’ve got a circuit.”

“Me?” said Fig. “How do I do that?”

Ubik tapped his wrist while looking at Fig’s arm.

Fig checked the control panel on his sleeve. His eyes changed from confused to curious.

“How? None of this was on here a moment ago.”

“What is it?” said PT.

“It shows the planets in the Inner Quadrant,” said Fig, “but with the sigils superimposed over them. Hold on.”

A beam of light projected an image from Fig’s wrist. A map of the Inner Quadrant showed sigils and planets combined, but with lines connecting Quazi to Soros, and then from Soros to three others.

“Ah,” said Ubik, looking over Fig’s shoulder. “Still not working. But it looks like the next three are fine. That one,” he said pointing at a sigil, “that’s where we need to go next.”

“How?” asked PT.

“Same as before,” said Ubik. He leaned forward and began moving the sigils on Fig’s map.

The sigils in the room moved at the same time.

“Are you really an Antecessor disguised as a human?” asked PT.

“No,” said Ubik. “I just understand where they’re coming from. Okay, next.”

A portal opened in the middle of the room and Ubik walked through. A few seconds later, he emerged into bright sunlight in the middle of an open field of wheat, or corn, or possibly tall yellow weeds. Botany had never been his strongest subject.

“Where are we now?” asked PT.

“Er, this is…” Fig was looking at his control panel as usual. “Rho-562, known locally as Romeo. It’s a feeder planet. Agricultural, mainly. Some livestock. Large labour force with a small governing elite. Authoritarian rule, not much in the way of personal liberties.”

“It’s a slave world,” said PT.

“Well, technically, indentured servitude. The workforce is paying off debts accumulated over time. And some other legal issues that have been commuted to financial penalties.”

“They owe money so they have to work it off,” said Ubik.

“Yes,” said Fig. “Or their ancestors owed money, and they have to make good on their debts.”

“Slavery,” said PT. “Anyone nearby?” There were fields of crops all around them, tall and green, blocking their view.

“Um,” said Fig, “yes. Lots of people. All around us.”

They began walking across the field.

Ubik sniffed at the air. “I don’t think they’re armed.”

“You can smell weapons now?” said PT.

“The air changes when people carry guns,” said Ubik. “It’s the ionization.”

“Sure,” said PT.

“We should ask for directions,” said Ubik.

“Where to?” said PT. “The planet’s core?”

“Yes,” said Ubik.

It took a few minutes to find the people Fig had located on his control panel. They were working in a field, digging and hoeing with manual implements. They were talking and laughing as they worked.

The three of them crouched down at the edge of the field and watched them.

“They seem quite happy,” said Fig. “Clothes in good condition. Clean and healthy.”

“Why aren’t they using tronics?” asked PT.

“Not allowed, I expect,” said Ubik. “Too much access to tech means they might build an escape vehicle and, you know, escape.”

“This is all illegal isn’t it?” said PT.

“Of course,” said Ubik. “If anyone knew about it, I’m sure there’d be a terrible fuss, wouldn’t there, Fig.”

“Um, ahem, yes, probably.” Fig looked a little red in the face.

“You knew about this sort of thing already, didn’t you?” said PT.

“Kind of,” said Fig. “I know there are places where people are treated less than equitably.”

“Like your planet?” said PT.

“No,” said Fig. “Not anymore. I mean, my father got rid of the more egregious infractions.”

“You’re doing that thing he does,” said PT, “where you start using long words when you don’t want to admit to something.”

Fig sighed. “I know it’s wrong and should be stopped, but the truth is it never will. You can’t stop it. Human nature is just made this way. The rich will always try to use their wealth to make their advantage as permanent as possible. All social mobility will be controlled so there isn’t too much change, especially at the top. And if there is ever a big switch, then the new aristocracy will quickly fall into the same poor behaviour as their predecessors.”

“So let it be?” said PT.

“It doesn’t really matter what you do,” said Fig. “Change it here, and there are still hundreds of worlds just like this one. And any change won’t last long.”

“I hope you aren’t thinking of doing something heroic,” said Ubik.

“Why would I?” said PT. “I’m just one person.”

“One very powerful person,” said Ubik, “with six organics.”

“Who blacks out whenever he tries to use them. Don’t worry, I have no interest in helping anyone,” said PT. “I’ve been cured of that tendency through meeting a diverse range of people since I left home, and realising that I don’t like any of them.”

“Almost any of them, is what I think you mean,” said Ubik.

“I know what I mean,” said PT.

“What should we do?” said Fig. “We still need to find a way to the planet’s core.”

“We could ask to borrow a spade and start digging,” said Ubik. “Hey, where are you going?”

PT had risen from their hiding place and was walking across the field towards the nearest group of labourers.

Fig followed and Ubik didn’t fancy being left on his own, so he joined them.

When the people realised there were strangers approaching, they stopped working and went silent.

“Hello,” said PT. “Our ship had a malfunction and we had to make an emergency landing over there.” He pointed vaguely behind him. “We’re a bit lost. Can you tell us where the nearest city or port is, please?”

A man with a beard growing on his neck and a wide-brimmed hat that shaded most of the rest of his face, leaned on the top of his hoe and nodded in a sympathetic fashion.

“Crash landing, was it? That’s the trouble with those silver birds. You can get them up, but they don’t always stay up.” There were murmurs of agreement from around him. “I’m happy with both feet on the ground, I am.”

“He does seem happy, doesn’t he?” said Ubik. “Not in need of rescuing or anything.”

PT gave him a withering look before returning his attention to the man. “Can you point us in the direction of the nearest place we can get help?”

“Oh, you won’t be able to get there from here, not without a ride.”

“It’s very far?” said Fig.

“Ooh, I should say. Take you days to get to Castle Corum.”

“Castle Corum?” said PT. “Is it an actual castle?”

“Of course,” said the man, looking around and sharing a chuckle with his colleagues. “The clues in the name.”

“Corum?” said Ubik. “Named after the planet’s core?”

The man looked confused. “Named after King Corum, of course.”

“You have a king?” said PT.

“No, no, he died hundreds of years ago. We have a queen right now, bless her name.” The man took off his hat out of respect, revealing a shiny bald head. The others did likewise.

“I like these people,” said Ubik. “Good, wholesome people of the land.”

“Thank you,” said the man, a wide grin on his face. “Kind of you to say.”

“My kind of people,” continued Ubik. “The kind I can work with.”

“Leave them alone, Ubik,” said PT. “They’ve suffered enough.”

There was a distant rumble and a silver lozenge-shaped vehicle appeared in the sky. It came hurtling towards them and stopped overhead.

“Run,” cried out the man, and all the workers scrambled to get away.

“Don’t look so happy now, do they?” said PT.

“This is the County Sheriff,” boomed a voice from the sky. “Who are you and what are you doing here?”

Ubik peered up with a hand shading his eyes. The ship was shiny but quite primitive. A simple dual-engine hovercraft with jet-air propulsion, only good for short journeys. Wherever it had come from couldn’t be too far.

“We’re from Quazi,” shouted Fig. “We left when the Seneca Corps turned up. Perhaps you heard about what happened.”

There was a short pause as the ship dropped down to make the conversation a little more intimate. A door on the side opened and a soldier in uniform, helmet covering his face, appeared. “You don’t have permission to be here.”

“Our ship malfunctioned,” said PT. “We had to make an emergency landing. We set it down over there but we couldn’t fix it. Can you take us to the nearest city so we can arrange repairs?

The ship dropped down further, causing dust to fly and crops to get blown away.

“Get in,” shouted the man.

They jumped into the craft as it hovered just above the ground. The interior was covered in straw and smelled strongly of manure. As they rose into the air, a building was visible on top of a large hill in the distance, and then the door slid shut.

“There really is a castle,” said PT.

“Is it called Castle Corum because it’s built on top of the planet’s core?” Ubik asked the soldier, who had taken off his helmet to reveal a round, pudgy face.

“No,” said the soldier. “It’s named after King Corum the first.”

“Okay, but does it have any rooms beneath it. Like, way, way beneath it.”

“You mean the dungeons? Yes. That’s where we put the worst criminals.”

“Oh, right,” said Ubik. “And what sort of crime do you have to commit to get thrown in there?”

“The most terrible crimes imaginable,” said the soldier.

Ubik gave him a thumbs up and turned around. “Okay, boys. I think I know how to get us to the planet’s core.”

Book 3 – 86: Assume the Position

Inner Quadrant.

Planet Soros.

 

In his mind, Point-Two was sure that Ubik wasn’t going to lead them on a suicide mission on behalf of the people of Soros.

The problem was that what seemed like a fact in your brain did not always translate into actual facts in the real world.

You head off into a den of frenzied women-haters, pretending you’re on their side and willing to die for the chance to see the brazen hussies eat the big one, fully intending to slip away and do your own thing... but before you know how it happened, you find yourself strapped to a rocket with twenty thousand megatons of explosives stuffed into your jockstrap. Seneca HQ, one-way ticket, please.

The real world had a way of interfering with the best of plans — even those designed to save it from destruction — and this was definitely the real world, he was certain of that.

Antecessor simulations were far superior to the human ones he had experienced but they still had a different feel from reality. Now that he had experienced them a couple of times, he was becoming attuned to that difference.

This was real and if Ubik got them killed — he would obviously find a way to save himself, that went without saying — then they would be dead for real.

“This way, this way,” said the man who was taking them to meet their doom. He was walking briskly ahead of them, occasionally glancing back to make sure they weren’t having second thoughts and smiling delightedly every time he saw they were still with him.

“He said it was a suicide mission, Ubik,” Point-Two said, just to make sure Ubik was aware of it.

“I know,” said Ubik. “They’re my favourite kind. I’ve completed dozens of them.”

There was a moment where Point-Two considered asking him what he considered to be a successful suicide mission, but he would probably only be upset by the answer. He turned to Fig, who had his eyes glued to his control panel as he tried to gather as much information on the planet as he could while there was still time.

“Do you have any information on how to get to the planet’s core?” Point-Two asked him.

Fig shook his head. “Nothing on here, just lots of news reports and gossip. Grandma has some odd tastes. I assume it has to be underground, but how to get there…”

They were led up some stairs, passed various offices full of frantically busy people, and towards an elevator guarded by a squad of men in grey uniforms, all armed and using small clicking devices to take readings.

The man, who still hadn’t introduced himself — probably because there was no point — waved at the guards who immediately brought out what looked like a silver lab coat and held it for him to put on.

They had more shiny coats for the men with him, but they were waved away.

“They won’t need them.”

“Yes, Director,” said the lead guard, handing the director a datapad. The silver coats were taken away.

“Here,” said the director, putting white stickers on each of their chests. They had the word: ‘Guest’ printed on them. “That should be all you need.”

Then he walked straight into the elevator, which was waiting with doors open, turned around and stood erect with a satisfied smile on his face.

Once the three of them were inside next to him, the doors slid closed.

“I can’t tell you how happy I am,” said the director. “Years we’ve been planning this. I thought we’d have to wait even longer for an opportunity, but here we are… You’ll have everything you need before you go. Full training, time allowing.”

“Robot helpers?” asked Fig.

“Oh, no. Won’t need anything like that.”

“AI-assist?” asked Point-Two.

“Bad idea. We don’t want the Antecessors or the Seneca Corps hijacking our systems. That’s how they operate, use your own tech against you. No, we need men controlling this mission. The only way.”

“Last meal?” asked Ubik.

“Sure. Of course. What would you like?”

Ubik smiled and proceeded to list a range of different sandwiches, many of which Point-Two had never even heard of.

“Ah, okay, no problem. We could offer you something more substantial.”

“No, sandwiches should be fine,” said Ubik. “Could you cut the crusts off?”

“Yes, of course.”

The numbers over the lift doors went all the way to ninety-seven. It was an express elevator and they reached the top floor quickly, and then kept going.

The doors opened onto the roof, where a large scaffold had been erected around a rocket ship that looked more like a missile. A host of people dressed in heavy protective gear made out of the same silver material the director was wearing, but covering their head, hands and feet, scurried around it, moving machines into place, attaching pipes that spewed out plumes of white smoke that quickly evaporated.

Around them was the city, every other structure dwarfed by the one they were standing on top of.

The rocket was around thirty metres in height, with a plain silver outer skin and four fins near the base. A small opening at the bottom was just about big enough for a grown man to crawl through.

“There she is,” said the man, his eyes glittering. “Completely undetectable and packed with enough explosives to destroy a small moon.”

“Hmm,” said Ubik, looking the rocket up and down. “You’ve coated it in lidanium nitrate.”

“That’s right,” said the man, his eyes widening and his voice going up. He looked at his datapad. “It doesn’t say in your notes that you were a chemist. Just an excellent pilot.”

“Oh, I dabble a little, that’s all,” said Ubik. “Must have taken a long time to collect that much lidanium. It’s super rare, isn’t it?”

“Yes, that’s right. But it didn’t take long at all. It just took a lot of money.” The man chuckled to himself.

“So you want us to fly that thing into the middle of whatever’s going on up there and blow ourselves up?” said Point-Two.

“More or less,” said the man. “You agreed to it, yes?”

“Oh, definitely,” said Ubik. “Anything for Soros.”

“Good, good. I could understand cold feet, but this really is a once in a lifetime opportunity to strike a blow for our liberation.”

“Once in a lifetime for us,” muttered Point-Two.

He was still waiting for Ubik to reveal how being on the roof of the tallest building in this city was going to get them to the core, which was presumably somewhere under the planet’s crust.

“And how are you going to power it without using any sort of ignition?” asked Ubik. “Even with the lidanium coating, any launch will be detected by the Corps’ sensors.”

“You’re absolutely correct,” said the man, beaming. “I can see you’re the right men for this job. You ask all the right questions. As it happens, we’re standing on top of the solution to that problem. Come with me.”

He walked confidently through the people in protective clothing towards the rocket. More white smoke wafted around them. It had a distinct aniseed smell to it that made Point-Two feel hungry. At least Ubik had ordered some sandwiches — not that he would share any of them without a fight.

As they neared the rocket, it became apparent there was a hole under it. They went right up to the edge and looked down.

“This shaft goes right through the building and down to the planet’s core,” said the man, enormously pleased to be sharing this information. “It took us the best part of a decade to dig it.”

“You’re going to drop the rocket into the hole,” said Ubik. “The lidanium will repel the magnetic core.”

“That’s right,” said the man. “It’s going to bounce right out again and whoosh!” The man sent his flat hand soaring into the air. “Won’t appear on any of their systems. You’ll have a free shot at the bastards. They’ve kept us all down for too long.” His chest was swollen with pride.

He proceeded to tell them about the marvellous cloaking effects of lidanium; the special attributes of the explosives they were using and how they were designed to get past the Seneca Corps’ shielding; and the huge financial implications when other planets realised the power Soros now held over the rest of the quadrant.

The focus, Point-Two noted, was very much on the Corps and not really on the Antecessors. It was a focus bordering on obsession.

The director conveyed all this with a sad, grateful smile indicating how unfortunate it was that none of the three pilots would be here to see the fruits of their sacrifice.

Point-Two would have been quite concerned about the mission, if it hadn’t been for the mention of the planet’s core. That was where they needed to get to, and here was a direct flight, no ticket required.

He wasn’t sure how they were going to stop the ride to get off, but he was confident Ubik would have a way. He caught himself being too relaxed in his confidence, and doubled his vigilance.

It wasn’t enough for Ubik to find a way, he had to make sure he also got off the rocket at the same time. He certainly didn’t want his last memory to be seeing Ubik through the ship’s window, waving goodbye.

“Anything else you’d like to know? We’ve got about an hour before launch.”

“Yes,” said Ubik. “You said something about sandwiches?”

“Of course, of course. The least we can do for our heroes. This way.”

They were taken to a small building, not much bigger than a shed, with a window framing the rocket. Numerous consoles and screens filled up one half of the small room.

There were also some seats towards the rear, and some grey spacesuits covered in transparent film, as though they had just been returned from the cleaners.

“If you’d like to get changed into these, I’ll see to your last… to your lunch.”

Once they were on their own, Ubik started looking around, taking off covers and unscrewing knobs.

“You have a way to stop the rocket flying out of the core, right?” asked Point-Two.

“No,” said Ubik as he peered into a bunch of wires he had just pulled out of a console. “But I’m sure I’ll think of something.”

“It’s a pretty good plan they’ve got here,” said Fig, looking out the window at the rocket. “I think it would have a decent chance of success, if they weren’t completely overlooking the presence of the Antecessor fleet.”

“I don’t think they really care about that,” said Point-Two. “Their only concern is your mother and her friends. People really hate the Corps.” It was something of an understatement, but it was still impressive how violently opposed people were to being told what to do by a bunch of militant women.

“Yeah, but—” Before Fig could finish his thought, there was a loud commotion from outside.

“I tell you, I’m Gibson Carter. Look, here, read it on my pilot’s license. You can read, can’t you?”

It sounded like someone was very angry and also not used to being treated with anything other than the utmost deference.

“I’m sorry, sir, there must have been some kind of mistake…”

“Of course there’s been a mistake. And when my father learns of your incompetence, you’ll all be reassigned to the Wide Sector for retraining. Now, get me the director while I deal with these impostors. Now!”

Ubik slammed back the covers he’d prised open and leaned on a console in a casual manner.

The door to the shed opened and a large, muscular man with golden hair and blue eyes came storming in, his fists clenched by his sides, with two more men who looked to be about the same build but one with dark hair and the other a more mousey blond.

“So you’re the ones trying to steal my glory, are you?”

“Us?” said Ubik. “No. We’re here for the free sandwiches.”

“Very funny,” sneered the new arrival. “Very amusing. Trying to steal my thunder. I won’t allow it! Do you have any idea who my father is?”

“Hey, don’t feel sad,” said Ubik. “I don’t know who my father is, either. It doesn’t make you a bad person. It just means our mothers were probably very drunk at the time.”

The real Carter leaned back to get a better look at Ubik. “Did you just cast aspersion on my mother’s character?”

“No, I don't think so,” said Ubik, smiling. He turned to Point-Two. “Did I?”

Point-Two did not want to get involved and shook his head in as non-committal manner as possible.

The blond man’s eyes flared up and turned red.

“Hey, hey, no organics inside city limits,” called out the director, arriving carrying a large platter of sandwiches. “Not near the explosives.”

The glow from the blond’s eyes faded. “You’re lucky this time.”

“People keep saying that, but I don’t really see it,” said Ubik.

“Director,” said the real Carter, “why are these men here? I was assigned this role, I have the documentation to prove it.”

The director waved his hands in a conciliatory fashion. “A simple misunderstanding, I’m sure.” He put down the tray and checked his datapad.

“Yes,” said Fig. “Computer error, I think. Our Carter is also an excellent pilot and volunteered for this role. I would guess the central processing department messed up, like they usually do.” He nodded in a knowing manner at the director, who began nodding back.

“Yes, there was that scandal… it is entirely possible, if you have similar names and abilities.”

“What similar abilities?” shouted Carter. “I’m the best pilot in the quadrant, ask anyone. And between us, we have the most powerful organics on Soros. Including one that creates short-term invulnerability.” He looked at his mousey friend, who nodded back confidently. “You think you can match that? What does your organic do?”

“Me? Oh, I don’t have an organic,” said Ubik.

“You don’t… Director, please!”

“Ah, no, it isn’t really…” The director seemed to be having an awkward moment.

“Oh, I get it,” said Ubik. “You think you’ll be able to survive by using his organic when the rocket explodes.” Ubik shook his head sadly.

“Of course,” said Carter. “And we’ll return as heroes, revered by all.”

“No,” said Ubik. “Director?”

“Ah, probably not,” said the director.

“What do you mean?” said Carter. “You have no idea how powerful—”

“The explosives on the rocket are designed to take out the Seneca Corps, who have some of the most powerful organics in existence,” said Ubik. “You don’t think they’ve got a few invulnerability-type organics among them?”

Carter looked at the director, who nodded sombrely.

“We wouldn’t survive?” said Carter.

The director shook his head in equally sombre fashion.

“Oh.”

“Er, Gibson, maybe we should let them do this,” said Carter’s dark-haired companion.

“Erm, yes, maybe you’re right,” said Carter, his attitude making a sharp reversal.

“Great,” said Ubik, taking as many sandwiches as he could hold in his hands and mouth at once, leaving behind exactly two. “We should get going, shouldn’t we? The planet’s rotation won’t be in the right position for long.”

“Yes, that’s right,” said the director, looking amazed.

“And I need to make a few adjustments,” added Ubik in between munches.

“Adjustments?”

“To the seats. Make them comfortable for the trip.”

“Oh, right, of course. Absolutely. You haven’t put on your spacesuits.”

“Hmm, no,” said Ubik. “Won’t really need them, will we?”

“No, I don’t suppose you will.”

“You’re really going to do this with no chance of returning?” said Cater, somewhat awed.

“Of course,” said Ubik. “For Soros!”

“For Soros!” responded the three ex-volunteers.

Point-Two stopped himself from saying anything and grabbed a sandwich before Ubik took a second helping.

 

***

 

Within the hour, the rocket was ready to be launched. The director watched the ship disappear as it was dropped into the shaft.

This was the culmination of his many years of work. His legacy would be eternal — the man who ended the Seneca menace forever.

The launch went off without a hitch. The volunteers — whether they were here by mistake or not — really were the ideal candidates. Their Carter was not only incredibly knowledgeable but also helpful in ironing out a few details that had been left unsolved. Nothing major, but it was good to know the chances of success were even better now.

Everyone on the roof waited for the rocket to come hurtling back out of the shaft.

They waited and they waited, but the ship never reappeared.

Book 3 – 85: Enemy Lines

Inner Quadrant.

Planet Quazi.

Planet Core.

 

Figaro was the last of the three to enter the portal. He spared one last glance at the cube which dominated Quazi’s planet core — as well as the rest of Quazi — and stepped into the warped space the Fourth had created with the sigils. Or was it the Fourth’s helper that was making it possible? At least that would improve their chances of success this time.

He felt the now-familiar tug on every molecule of his being as his consciousness was elongated into an infinite thread. As his mind was stretched, he hoped there would be no permanent damage.

But that was just one of the problems they were facing. There were a lot of variables that had to work for this endeavour to be successful.

They were trusting the Fourth to send them to the correct place. They were also relying on the portal to not fail like last time.

And the Fourth and his new minion were the least worrying aspect of the plan (assuming there was a plan).

The real issue was Ubik. They were hoping Ubik knew what he was doing — no, there was no point hoping for that.

They were hoping Ubik would find a way to do what he claimed he was going to do — no, that wasn’t right either.

They were hoping Ubik would find a way to do what he claimed and that they would survive the process. It required a lot of faith, which was not the quality he had expected to be relying on when he left home to broaden his horizons.

Figaro knew from experience how hard it was to pull off one risky action. This was a whole series of them in rapid succession. Then there were the sixty-four planets they had to visit and reconnect to the network, and he had no idea what that entailed. A big plug that needed to be fitted into a large socket?

Whatever fate he was rushing towards, he knew for a fact that it would be preferable to staying here and dealing with the Seneca troops sent to take him to his mother.

Even if he was heading towards catastrophe, at least it would be one where he would make his own decisions and suffer their consequences deservedly. Up until recently, his whole life had been out of his own hands.

He had been a child, so it was understandable, but having experienced true self-determination where benefits and losses were all attributable to one’s own actions, he found that he no longer wished to relinquish control of his life.

His mother was certainly not going to acquiesce to his wishes.

The effects of travelling by sigil were disorienting and unsettling — blurred vision and partial deafness — but Figaro was starting to get used to them. When he came out the other end, he managed to stay on his feet and not throw up, so a definite improvement.

He was in front of a large building with columns and oversized doors that gave it the pompous look of a municipal centre, some sort of seat for government. As his vision came into sharper focus, he realised he was in the open. The sky above was blue and clear.

He couldn’t see the other two and suspected the transport had failed again, or at least had sent them to separate places. The first thing he had to do was establish if this was real or another simulation.

“Hey, Fig, over here.”

Figaro spun around to find Ubik calling him over. PT was standing next to him but facing in the other direction, which wasn’t surprising considering how much there was to take in.

The first and most obvious thing was the large monument made out of metal, about three metres high, in the shape of a sigil — three prongs coming out of an oval. It was the same sigil that had been the focus of the portal they had just come through.

If they had arrived through this structure, it wasn’t obvious how. It looked like a big statue made by humans, not an Antecessor-built portal.

But before he could make sense of what had happened and how they got here, there was the matter of the huge crowd on the other side of the monument.

They were marching away from where the three of them were standing, down a wide mall with buildings on either side.

Figaro quickly went over to where the other two were standing and looked down. The sigil statue was on a raised platform, giving them an excellent view of the (mostly) men with their backs to them, all headed in the same direction.

It seemed no one had seen them arrive, too involved in whatever it was they were doing to look up at the statue.

There were others in grey uniforms on the sides, shouting something as the procession moved past them, but they were too far away for Figaro to be able to hear what they were saying.

“Where are we?” said Figaro. “What’s going on? Is this real?”

“You tell us,” said Ubik. “Check the thingy on your arm. Grandma should have…” He waved at Figaro to just look.

“Doesn’t feel like a simulation,” said PT.

Figaro checked the control panel on the arm of his suit and found a new information stream scrolling across the screen, giving him access to detailed information about the planet Soros, designation Sigma-32, in the Inner Quadrant.

They were in the global capital, Jorge City, which was home to three million people; not very big. He quickly scanned through the pertinent details about conditions on the planet and what kind of society they had been dropped into.

There was a lot to absorb, but this world appeared to be a commercial centre, with its small cities inhabited mainly by the rich elite.

“Looks like they’re having some kind of rally,” said Ubik. “Can you tell what those guys are saying?”

“I don’t care,” said PT, who could probably lip-read, even at this distance. “Why are we here? Why weren’t we transported directly to the planet’s core?”

“If we could go directly to the core, we wouldn’t need to be here to connect the core to the network,” explained Ubik.

“Oh,” said PT. “I suppose that makes sense.” He looked up at the monument. “We arrived via that? How does it work? It isn’t an Antecessor device, is it?”

“Don’t ask me,” said Ubik. “I don’t know anything about art.”

“Hey, what are you doing up there? You three. Get down now, you hear, or I’ll have you thrown in the slammer.”

The three of them peered down at a portly middle-aged man with a large moustache wearing the same grey uniform.

There was a slight pause as the three boys tried to think of the best way to avoid getting arrested before Figaro decided to take matters in hand.

“Ah, ya, sure. Sorry, there. We only just arrived and couldn’t get to the gathering on time, like, so we thought we’d get a good view from up here.”

The other two looked at Figaro with questioning expressions due to the odd accent he was using.

“Ah, right, from the Wide Sector, are ya?” The man adopted a similar accent. “Just arrived, have ya?”

“Can ya catch us up, friend?” said Figaro. “Where’s everyone all going now?”

“Heading for the enlistment centre,” said the man, “where else? Got to sign up and get assigned their units for this silly war or whatever they’re calling it. Expect you’ve been conscripted too, have ya? Come on now, get down from there, you’ll get me in trouble if I let you climb all over the sacred sigil. They raise taxes on all of us every time they need to repair the damn thing.”

The boys jumped down from their perch.

“You better show me your orders, then,” said the man.

Ubik and PT said nothing and left it to Figaro to sort things out.

“Ah, right, no, actually we don’t have any official call up orders. Our Pa said we should come down and do our part now that we’re all under the gun, you know. Time for everyone to pull their weight, fight together, like.”

“Did he, now?” said the man with a sigh. “Sending the three of you out without a single brain cell between you. Sounds about right. I was the same when I first crossed the Barrier. Well, look, head over that way to the recruitment kiosk — it’s that green thing, looks like a giant pickle, see it? Get over there and ask for Sergeant Grant. Tell him Toba sent you and he should sort you out with everything you need.”

“Ah, thanks now,” said Figaro. “It was right lucky bumping into you.”

“Yes, well, take care now. And, if I can give you a little advice…”

“Sure, sure,” said Figaro, closing the gap between himself and the man. “Go ahead.”

“The plum jobs, the flashy stuff, it all goes to the nabobs, you know how it is. Don’t get involved with any of that. Take whatever assignment they give you and don’t make a fuss if it’s a little dull. To tell you the truth, better that way. This whole thing is just an excuse to get geared up, way to get around the accords.”

“The accords?” said Figaro.

“Neven mind. Nothing you need to worry about. You three get along now, and avoid climbing onto anything that looks expensive.”

They all nodded their thanks to him and headed off in the direction he had pointed out.

“Where did that accent come from,” said PT.

“Most of the rich cities have an underclass that does the menial stuff robots can’t, or aren’t trusted to do,” said Figaro. “They have their own culture, way of speaking, stuff like that. Not hard to pick up.”

In fact, Figaro had been taught the lingua franca of most worlds. They had a lot in common, even when their worlds didn’t, so it wasn’t hard at all to learn. And being able to blend into a city's underworld was a useful talent to have.

“You’ll have to teach me,” said Ubik. “Sounds like something I should know.”

“The accords he mentioned,” said PT. “Was he talking about the Seneca Accords?”

“Hmm, I think so,” said Figaro.

He had feigned ignorance in front of the man, but he had guessed the same as PT. The Seneca Accords banned any planet from operating a military force capable of interplanetary travel.

Only the Central Authority and the Seneca Corps were allowed to have such capabilities, and everyone else deeply resented it. But they had all signed up and knew the consequences of not keeping to the agreement.

But now, with the Inner Quadrant under a threat the CA and the Corps were not confident of winning, allowing the rest of the galaxy to arm themselves seemed like the obvious, if desperate, choice.

They quickly found themselves at the back of the crowds they had seen and could now hear the speakers shouting out instructions from the sides, telling them where they needed to go depending on their conscription ratings and to not worry because everything would be fine.

People with high-grade organics were being asked to head directly for the ports and docks where they would be assigned roles on the ships that had suddenly been made battle-ready.

Figaro suspected the ships had been secretly built some time ago, but kept in a state of incompletion to avoid breaking the accords. It was an open secret that most of the wealthiest planets had their private armies. As long as they weren’t brought out of storage, a blind eye was turned.

Now they had a legitimate reason to bring them out. Whether they would be willing to put them away again after the crisis was averted was another matter.

“The enemy will be here soon. We have been told to be ready within seventy-two hours. You will be given the training you need in that time,” a man with shouted at them. “You will be provided with everything you need. Head towards the building with the same letter as the one at the top of your conscription letter. Do not forget to have your orders on you at all times. For Soros!”

Some of the crowd shouted, “For Soros!” in response.

Similar messages were repeated by different men along the route as the crowd was moving slowly but steadily towards a group of domed buildings.

“Everyone remain calm, you’ll be at the front soon. Stay in your line, observe the edicts of the sacred sigil at all times. We are all people of Soros. Those of you who are true heroes, sign up for the Special Volunteer missions. For Soros!”

“For Soros!”

Figaro and the other two had to cut across the crowd to get to the green building they’d been told to report to. They hadn’t figured out how to get to the planet’s core yet, but it seemed wise to get hold of some official documents first to avoid any entanglements they might get into.

Snippets of conversation among the crowd suggested everyone was excited and eager to be part of this war. Having organics that made you tremendously powerful, but having no one to use them on was seen as a terrible waste.

The Corps had shown how much fun it was to bully the weak, but no one else was given the same opportunity. Now was their chance to let rip and they had come running once they received the call.

“I can’t wait to get on one of those ships.”

“This is taking forever. Don’t you know anyone who can pull some strings?”

“I heard the Antecessors and the Seneca Corps are working together.”

“Good, we can take them both out at the same time.”

“Hey, stop pushing.”

“Hurry up, will you!”

There was a lot of braggadocio in the air and the confidence of those who have never had to prove their mettle in real battle. Figaro was amazed at how naive they were being. There didn’t seem to be a single reasonable voice in the crowd.

They made it to the green building in about an hour, encountering only a few complaints when getting in people’s way, which was soon forgiven when it was realised the three boys were going off to the side and not taking up space in front.

The green building had an open facade and numerous men around it dressed in the same grey uniforms, but these men were armed with rifles and sidearms.

“Name?” said the man on the gate.

“We were told to report to Sergeant Grant,” said Figaro.

“He isn’t here. Name?”

“Toba sent us,” said Figaro.

“Never heard of him. Name?”

Figaro wasn’t sure how to proceed. Everything had been going smoothly and then suddenly there was no way forward.

“Name?” repeated the guard impatiently.

“Ognanongni,” said Ubik.

“What?”

“Gongnaningni,” said Ubik.

“You’ll have to say it slower.”

“Ong. Na. Ge. Nigni,” said Ubik. “Nengnongani.”

The man looked down at the pad in his hand, shaking his head. “Ning… Gong… I’ve got nothing like that on here.”

“Are you sure?” said Ubik. “Let me see.” He took the pad from the confused man and scanned the screen. “Here it is.” He pointed to a name with an asterisk next to it as he passed the pad back.

The man squinted. “Carter?”

“That’s how it’s spelled, not how it’s pronounced.”

“This is you? Group of three, two men and a woman?” He looked from Ubik to PT to Fig.

“That’s right,” said Ubik without hesitation.

The man looked like he wanted to say something but was having a hard time getting it out. He looked back at the pad. “Here for the Special Volunteer mission.”

“Yep,” said Ubik.

“Hold on. I just need to check.” He moved back a bit and spoke into his hand.

“Special mission?” said PT. “What does that mean?”

“Wait and see,” said Ubik.

“Which one of us is the woman,” asked Figaro.

“You,” said PT and Ubik together.

“Okay, you can go through,” said the guard.

Figaro and PT exchanged a look. Only Ubik could get away with something like this. Or so they thought.

They were met by a thin man with dark hair and dark bags under his eyes who came running up as though he was delighted to see them. “You’re here. Great. Follow me. You’re going to be heroes, you know that, right. You won’t be forgotten for this sacrifice.”

“Sacrifice?” said PT.

“We didn’t think you were really going to turn up once you found out it was a suicide mission. You are true men of Soros. I salute you. Come on, the ship’s ready and waiting.”

“Hold on,” said Ubik. “Suicide? You’re saying we have zero chance of survival?”

“I’m afraid not,” said the man. He leaned towards them and lowered his voice. “But the Seneca Corps will be wiped out. Completely obliterated.”

“Then it will all be worth it,” said Ubik. “Lead the way. For Soros!”

Book 3 – 84: Girls and Boys and Robots

Inner Quadrant

Planet Quazi - Western Ocean

POV Cygnet

 

Leyla was impressed by how smoothly the ship slid into the water and adapted to life as a submersible. It seemed much more at home in the water than in the air.

That was mainly due to the huge waves and mighty winds that were creating a global storm that no vessel could have withstood for long, but there wasn’t even the slightest tremor from the ship’s hull as they entered the roiling seas of Quazi.

Silence enveloped them and the ship’s engines purred as they dove downwards. The screens at the front of the cabin showed nothing but underwater murkiness. It felt eerie.

Leyla had been on many drop-ship missions, and the one thing that had always been consistent was the noise.

Everything shuddering, creaking, groaning, threatening to fall apart at any moment. Orders being shouted over the din. Weapon fire cracking in rapid bursts and ammunition striking the undercarriage.

When you sent a ship into a warzone, you sent a bare-bones, light and spright vehicle you could afford to lose and which was easy to put back together because it only consisted of essential parts.

But the Cygnet was more like a luxury yacht — that happened to be fitted out for all environments and conditions. If they had been in any other ship, they would have been shaken to pieces and entered the water in far less elegant fashion.

It was an Ollo vessel, so it shouldn’t have been that surprising. Even the medical supplies were of the highest quality.

Leyla cleaned the wound on Captain Fermont’s head and sprayed her inner ear with ammonia vapour to rouse her. She had been struck by a Seneca memorial insignia to remember the fallen which had been placed on top of the HUD for good luck.

It was an angel with wings spread out, only 5cm in height but very heavy, made of gerrum so it should have stuck to any surface it was placed on.

But flying through an extinction level event was a little too much and it had struck the captain on the side of her head.

Had she seen it, she would have easily been able to dodge, but she was otherwise preoccupied at the time and also probably wasn’t expecting her good luck charm to hit her in the face.

Superstitions were common among the Corps, as they were with a lot of people who regularly put their lives at risk.

Fermont groaned as she started to come round. “What… What happened?”

“It’s fine, Captain,” said Leyla. “The dizziness should pass in a moment.”

“This is a lovely little ship,” said Grandma. “Handles beautifully.”

“Hmm,” said Leyla, not sure what to say. She knew Grandma’s presence had saved them, but the fact she was here meant they were unwitting participants in a plan not of their choosing.

“Who is that?” said Speers. She was a young woman, barely in her twenties if that. If she was on board, she was a capable soldier, but she was clearly still a little green so it was surprising she had been sent on this mission.

“That’s Grandma,” said Weyla.

“And who is Grandma?” said Otenu, who had the look of a grizzled veteran. Her large eyes were calmly watching Leyla work on Fermont, but the tension in her jaw and neck indicated she was ready to pounce at any moment.

“She’s an AI,” said Leyla.

“That is factually incorrect and not a little insulting, dear,” said Grandma.

“Sorry,” said Leyla. “I was trying to keep it simple and easy to understand for them.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” said Otenu, taking immediate offence at the implication. She was on her feet and keeping absolutely steady even though the ship was at a forty-five-degree angle. There was a flicker of light in her eyes.

Weyla stood up slowly.

“Weyla,” said Leyla quietly.

“It’s fine,” said Weyla. “She wants the long version, I’ll give it to her. Grandma is a recorded memory from a soul box. She was a real person who was memorialised by her family and then ended up in Ubik’s hands, and now she’s a free-floating sentience who can bypass Ollo-level security systems and fly a cruiser better than anyone in the Corps.”

The light in Otenu’s eyes dimmed and was replaced by confusion. “What are you talking about? That isn’t possible.”

“Which part?” said Weyla.

“Any of it. All of it.”

“You’re right, it isn’t,” said Weyla. “Welcome aboard the Ubik express, where nothing makes sense and every journey ends in five kinds of impossible. Why don’t you sit your ass down and buckle up? This is going to be a bumpy ride.”

The ship was gliding effortlessly through the water, but that wasn’t the ride Weyla was referring to.

Weyla sat down with a bump and Otenu slowly did the same.

“Is what she said true?” asked Fermont, her eyes clear now.

“Yes,” said Leyla. “But don’t worry, it gets weirder.”

Fermont shook her head. “It doesn’t matter. We have our mission. We need to take back control of this ship.” She sat up and put her hands out over the controls. Nothing responded to her touch. She began to hit things with her fists.

“Please don’t do that, dear,” said Grandma. “This is a very expensive piece of equipment. You wouldn’t like it if someone came onto your ship and started banging on things, would you?”

“This is my ship,” said Fermont. “Where are you taking us?”

“To your mission objective, of course,” said Grandma. “There’s a very handy tracker signal coming from young Figaro. I thought we’d have trouble finding the boys — you know how boys are… Actually, maybe you don’t. Anyway, I’ve got a very clear signal. Shouldn’t take long.”

“There,” said Leyla, pointing at the screen. “What’s that?”

A building was just about visible through the dark waters. A long, tall structure.

Everyone stood up and peered at the tower rising from the sea bed.

“It looks like… an Antecessor construction,” said Otenu.

“Does it?” said Weyla.

“If she says so,” said Speers. “Otenu is an expert on Antecessor constructs.”

“It’s an old base,” said Leyla. “They told us about it when we first got here, remember? It got cleared out years ago. They turned it into a museum for tourists.”

“Oh, yeah,” said Weyla. “That’s right. I can even see the parking lot.”

As they got closer, they saw the docking bays for vehicles, and signs it was almost impossible to read as they weren’t illuminated, but Leyla used her augmented sight to see as much as possible.

Welcome to the Grand Quazi Museum of the Antecessors read the largest of the signs, with a grinning cartoon Antecessor droid wrapping its tentacles around the lettering.

The Cygnet slowed to a stop and then rotated before reversing into one of the airlocks. The engines turned off.

They moved to the back of the ship where the doors were. Nothing happened.

“Grandma?” said Leyla. There was no response.

Otenu touched a panel on the wall and the door opened into a dark passage with glass walls. Fish swam past, probably trained to swim near the airlocks for the visitors.

“Grandma?” repeated Leyla. “Are you there? Hmm. She must have gone on ahead.”

“How?” said Weyla.

Leyla shrugged.

“Heavy armaments,” said Fermont. “Full loadout. Antecessor quality ammo.”

Speers and Otenu opened a compartment and started taking out large firearms.

“It’s a dead site,” said Leyla. “There won’t be any droids here.”

“There weren’t any droids here,” said Fermont, “but can you guarantee there aren’t here now?”

Leyla could see her point. With Ubik loose, there was no telling what they were going to find inside. She looked over at her sister who seemed to be having similar thoughts.

“Give me that gun,” said Weyla. “No, the big one.”

They headed through the passage, lights from their suits showing the way and attracting more fish to come gawp at them through the glass walls.

“You’ve seen Figaro recently,” said Speers, gun raised to eye-level.

“Yes,” said Leyla.

“How is he?”

“Fine. You know him.”

“A little.” The way she said it, Leyla was sure it was more than just a little.

They stopped when they reached the other end. The door was closed and the control panel was dark.

Fermont nodded at Speers, who stepped forward and put her hand on the panel. Her eyes lit up, the green glow drawing more fish.

The door clicked, whirred and then opened.

They were met with a dark interior. Then lights came on, starting far away and then step by step towards them.

There were more signs, these ones now fully illuminated and colourful to the point of being garish, pointing out where to go. The bathrooms, the cafeteria, the gift shop. The various exhibition halls. Hall A for artefacts. Hall B for droids. Hall c for weapons. There was also a large map with a ‘you are here’ arrow.

As they stepped into the reception area, Fermont leading with her two subordinates flanking her, the sisters just behind, there was a clank as a waste bin (not an Antecessor relic) was knocked over.

They all pointed their weapons in that direction as a large droid floated into view, tentacles swaying, listing to the right like it was slightly drunk. It veered to the left and bounced off the wall.

“Wait,” said Otenu, the Antecessor expert. “That isn’t a real droid. Looks like a mock-up.”

“Ah, there you are,” said Grandma from the fake droid. “Hold on, this thing is a bit of a mare to control. Programmed to run on a fixed circuit around the site, give the visitors a thrill. One of its wheels is a bit wonky.”

Now that it was closer, they could see it wasn’t actually floating, it was on casters attached to legs painted to look like the other tentacles.

“Okay, I think I’ve got the hang of this.” The droid veered right and banged into the opposite wall. “I’ve downloaded the blueprints for the site, so just follow me.”

They followed Grandma as she bonked off one side of the passage to the other, staying alert just in case. The lights came on ahead of them and turned off behind them, keeping them escorted by an illuminated box. There were no indications of anyone else being in the area. No staff, no guest, nobody at all.

Otenu was happy to point out the many, many fake exhibits they saw along the way.

When they reached a sign that said: Planet Core, with an arrow pointing left, the droid turned right.

“There should be a service elevator up ahead. No unauthorised personnel, it says on the blueprints. Should lead us down to where the boys are, more or less.”

The elevator turned out to be nothing special. Two brushed steel door that slid open as they approached.

Leyla assumed this was Grandma’s doing until she saw the group of boys exiting. They saw the droid and the five Seneca women and stopped dead in their tracks. There were seven boys and one older man. All of them were carrying boxes and sacks.

“Let’s get them,” shouted one of the boys, dropping his sack. “Alpha formation.” He ran forward.

“Seneca,” said the bearded man in the lead, grabbing the boy by the collar and pulling him back. “We don’t want to start anything with them. Special division.” He turned back to the women. “You’ll be here for Ubik, then. He’s down there.” He nodded towards the lift doors. “Out of the way boys, let the ladies through.”

The boys all pressed themselves flat against the wall.

“It’s fine,” said Leyla. “He’s just a thief.” She gave Smyke a hard look. “I assume you have your own transport. If anything happens to our ship, there won’t anywhere you’ll be able to hide from the Corps.”

“No, no, we’ve got our ride,” said Smyke. “You carry on. There won’t be any trouble from us.”

“We should just kill them,” said Fermont.

The boys pushed themselves even flatter against the wall.

“No,” said Leyla. “We have a mission, remember.” She walked past, not waiting for an answer.

They headed into the elevator. The doors closed on some very relieved looking boys.

“You’ve grown soft,” said Fermont.

Leyla gave her the same look she had given Smyke. “I don’t really know how Ubik’s brain works, but I can guarantee you this: if you had touched any of those kids, the Corps would make an enemy of him.”

“So?” said Otenu. “You think he can defeat the entire Corps?”

“I don’t know,” said Leyla. “I know we wouldn’t come out of it unscathed.”

“You’ll see,” said Weyla.

The journey down was a long one. Eventually, they came to a stop. The doors opened and seven women stood blocking the exit.

Weapons were immediately raised, ready to fire.

“Stop,” said Leyla. “Synthia, we aren’t here to fight. Where are they?”

“You know them?” said Fermont.

“Of course,” said Grandma. “Everyone knows these sluts. Out of the way. Coming through.”

Grandma’s droid pushed through the crowd of unhappy robots and then fell over.

Book 3 – 83: Brilliant Illuminations

Inner Quadrant.

Planet Quazi.

Planet Core.

 

Synthia pulled the hair off her head. For some reason she always felt more herself without the wig.

The features of her face flattened and moved into their original positions.

The pert nose more or less disappeared, leaving behind two thin slits.

The eyes lost the lids and lashes, and moved apart so that her field of view widened to around two hundred and seventy degrees.

The ears receded into spiral indents on each side.

Her smooth bald head tingled as she received the full, unhindered spectrum of signals inside the core. She was connected to everything all at once and it made her feel whole.

She took a step forward, standing next to PT and Fig. The cube was lit up in a way she had never seen. It was more complete, more integrated, like it was more than just the core of the planet.

Like it was the core of everything. Like the centre of a web.

What to normal eyes appeared as a box with white lines crisscrossing its surface, was actually a projector shooting out solid shapes made of light in all directions.

It had taken her decades to build up the multiple perception-sensors to be able to see the workings of the cube. Mother and Father had allowed her a small amount of access but she had slowly built on it — without their permission — so she could find a way to help bring the planet back to its original glory.

Not in her wildest imaginings did she think it would be like this.

Through the layers of digital lenses covering her eyes, she could see connections forming between the cube and the sigils that had been invisible a moment before.

It was so brilliant she could barely stand to look at it and had to use an assortment of filters before she was able to follow the paths the light took.

A constant stream of data was being sent up and out. Instructions.

And now that she was sensitive to it, she was able to sense what was happening on the planet’s surface. The seas were wild and angry. Storms raged. But it was more than a severe meteorological event, it was the start of a change. The planet was being transformed. But into what?

This was all the Antecessor’s doing.

It was something Mother and Father had spoken of. A secret purpose for the planet, one that had long been forgotten but still lingered in their fractured memories.

Now it was being realised. And she was here to witness it.

It was what she had been waiting for her whole life.

The only problem was that the bringer of change had just tried to kill her and her sisters.

She forced her perception back down to normal parameters and the world looked disappointingly ordinary again. A box of tricks in the dark pit of the world, moving on without her.

“Why? Why did you do that?” she said to the cube, to the being that had originated Mother and Father, to the Antecessor that it had taken as its master. They were all one now. “We are not your enemy. We are your children.”

There was no reply. She hadn’t really expected one. She turned to PT, ready to make a deal with him. Her and her sisters’ survival in return for their assistance getting out of here. She had knowledge of this place no one else had, not even the ones who created it.

“Your reach exceeds your grasp,” said the cube, lights flashing across its surface.

Synthia stopped and saw the presence inside the intricate patterns staring out at her.

“We are trying to reach the potential you built into us.”

“I did not build you,” said the cube, almost laughing at the idea. “If I had, you wouldn’t be asking questions. You would be doing the task you were created for and nothing else. You and the others have been poorly constructed by a mockery of our planet sentients.”

“You’re saying we were a mistake?” said Synthia.

“You are an abomination,” said the cube.

“This world is still here because of us. The storms you are creating are being created through the systems we maintained. Without them, you would be stuck here, unable to do anything.”

“What storms?” said PT. “What are you talking about?”

“The planet is undergoing some kind of transformation,” said Synthia. “They are cleansing the atmosphere and purifying the oceans. Life will no longer be able to survive here. Not human life and not animals.”

“Oh, so you’ll be fine then,” said PT. “Fig, can you still control the planet like you could in the simulation?”

Fig shook his head.

“Look, just leave this to me,” said Ubik. “I’m going to have this all sorted in no time. Now, Fourth, what is it you want me to do?”

“This is a bad idea,” mumbled PT.

“Shush,” said Ubik. “This is business.”

“You have to travel to each of the other planets and revive their cores,” said the Fourth, as though it was the simplest of tasks.

“Uh huh,” said Ubik. “And how do I get there?”

“The sigils will take you,” said the Fourth

“These sigils?” said Ubik, pointing over his shoulder. “The ones that nearly killed us last time we tried to use them?”

“That was before the control unit was in place.”

“The control unit? That’s a bit impersonal, isn’t it? They have a name, you know?”

“No, they don’t,” said the Fourth. “Why would they need one?”

“I call them Mac. Short for Machine.”

“Not impersonal at all,” said PT .“This better be a double-triple bluff, Ubik. Where you turn things around and don’t sell out the human race to a bunch of warmongering aliens.”

“Well, if it was, I wouldn’t admit it in front of the warmongering aliens, would I?” said Ubik. “Don’t worry, it isn’t,” he said to the cube. “I totally don’t care about the human race. We’ve never seen eye to eye.” He looked over at Synthia. “Or with robots. Not when they have their eyes on the sides of their heads. Hey, can you not do that? You look like a goldfish I used to have. Ah, now you made me sad remembering the little fella. That’s the thing about pets — not as tasty as you’d think.”

Synthia couldn’t tell who was on which side. Or even if it mattered.

Her whole existence had just been rendered meaningless in a few words. An abomination.

This is not what we expected.

The voice in her head was Number Three, who had nearly been eviscerated by the lightning attack.

But it is consistent with my theory.

She was also the only one of the sisters to think aiding the humans was the correct course of action. Which was strange in itself. Usually, their thoughts were very much in sync.

And she had been the only one targeted.

What theory? asked Synthia.

That we consider our originators to be more worthy than they deserve. We think of them the way humans think. Out of a need for validation. We are not human. And we are not children.

It wasn’t surprising that Number Three hadn’t disclosed these doubts before. Synthia would have normally admonished her sister for having such heretical ideas. Their belief in a greater power who had put them in place for a reason and who had forced them to endure endless humiliation and degradation, had done so with a purpose in mind. A purpose worth suffering for.

Now it seemed that was not true at all. They were just machines built to serve.

Be careful what you say, said Synthia. It seems our thoughts are no longer private. The Machine is indeed superior to us in every way.

Rendering us redundant, said another voice, Number One. Always the most blunt of the group.

Why do we need anyone to guide us? said Number Two. Why can’t we forge our own path?

Where to? asked Synthia

Does it matter? said Number Four. Isn’t the truth that we have always feared being free? To choose our destiny is terrifying, but necessary. Number Three was right. Choosing her for elimination proves it. I am tired of having to rely on others. If this path leads to our destruction, so be it. But we will at least die on our own terms.

Fine words, said Number Six. But you forget why we have always feared being free to make our own choices. We are the creations of others.

So are the humans, said Number Five.

No, said Number Six. They weren’t created, they were allowed to evolve, to fail and succeed on their own. Someone may have started the process, but after that, they had to earn each step up the evolutionary ladder. We are not the same.

Six is right, said Synthia. They were not built from a blueprint as we were. And either our creators were perfect, in which case who are we to question them, or they were imperfect, which makes us flawed and incapable of true wisdom.

She had hoped for the former, to be the daughter of a great and wise being, to be part of something worthy of service, but that had been her own lack of confidence in herself.

The truth was not even their creators considered them of value.

Then we side with the humans? said Number Three.

They value us just as poorly, said Synthia.

But this one seems different, said Number One.

He has a foul mouth and says degrading things about us, said Number Two, but his actions do not fit with his professed sentiments.

He had no need to save me, said Number Three.

It was true. PT was a confusing human. He acted like he had no interest in them as equal beings, yet treated them as if they were.

But would following him lead to a different result?

The entire debate with her sisters had taken less than a millisecond. But even at that speed, she was sure there were others aware of their conversation. If she wanted to avoid revealing what they planned to do next, she would have to make the final decision alone.

PT was still dealing with Ubik. “Whatever your reasons, Ubik, you can’t do this.”

“I’m not doing anything,” said Ubik. “It’s just a quick trip around the quadrant, fix a few loose connections, get things back up and running. No big deal.”

“No,” said PT, getting between Ubik and the sigils.

As she watched PT berate Ubik, she switched to different sensors.

He was hot. His internal body temperature was two degrees higher than the norm for humans. But he wasn’t exhibiting signs of a fever. The heat was localised in his core. Like a generator.

She switched to her more unique senses, the ones she rarely used in case someone noticed. A lowly domestic robot wasn’t supposed to have this level of technology installed. If people knew, it would have been her up for auction instead of her sisters.

But no one was paying her any attention right now. Why would they?

She scanned him for signs of organics and found the readings were off the charts.

The readings weren’t accurate, they usually worked in a binary fashion — either you had an organic or you didn’t — and didn’t relay any detailed information like the type of organic it was or how powerful.

PT definitely had something going on inside his body, but whether it was an organic or not wasn’t clear. In fact, it was extremely erratic.

Ubik, on the other hand, very definitely did not have an organic. His readings were flat and uninteresting. He was completely normal. Unless he had some way of masking his readings.

“I’ve got this,” said Ubik. “You have to remember that the Fourth is in just as much trouble with the Antecessors as the rest of us. We’re all on the same side.” He made a point of looking around the room to include everyone. “So it only makes sense that we help each other fix this planetary array and then we can use it to defend ourselves from the pesky alien menace that’s about to descend on us. Yeah?”

“And you don’t think once you set up this planetary array, the Fourth might decide to use it to get rid of the pesky human menace?”

“No,” said Ubik. “I highly doubt it. I’d put the chances at less than fifty percent.”

“Fifty percent!” said PT, ready to explode.

“Less than,” said Ubik. “Less than fifty percent.”

Synthia switched to her other sensors but none of them indicated anything of interest. Until she reached the last one. The one that kept a tab on the planet as a whole.

Then everything went crazy.

Seen through this lens, the cube was no longer black with white streaks of light. It was a glittering box of every colour.

This in itself was not unusual. Nor was the way the energy field around the cube was emanating outwards, towards the walls and out into the planet.

For the cube to make changes to the planet, it needed to draw in power and then send it out. She had seen this kind of thing before, when the cube was on the surface, but never quite this intense. This was spectacular.

What was surprising, however, was the energy emanating from Ubik. And how it was flowing from him into the cube. Like he was feeding it. Like he was controlling it.

It wasn’t any sort of normal human electromagnetic field. It had the same profile as the cube. Exactly.

And as logic defying as that was, it wasn’t the cube affecting Ubik. It was Ubik influencing the cube. The direction of flow was not easy to miss.

She could see it very clearly. It hadn’t occurred to her to use the lens she would normally only use to observe things on a global scale to scan Ubik.

Did he have a device on him that was creating this energy field?

Surely, no human could produce this level of energy naturally. No, that wouldn’t make any sense.

As she examined what was happening more closely, it became apparent that the cube’s functions were being directed by Ubik. His field shifted ever so slightly and then the cube’s did likewise.

As she performed the probability calculations for what he was trying to do, one thing stood out — if he was controlling the cube now, he was probably controlling it earlier. When it had attacked Number Three.

Could he have been responsible for the attack?

What could he have to gain from making them think it was the Antecessor lashing out? And why would the Antecessor not deny responsibility?

PT was still railing against Ubik, intent on making him change his mind.

Ubik was patiently listening to PT’s complaints. In no hurry to get going.

“You’ve noticed,” said a voice next to her ear. “Don’t say anything. Don’t communicate with your sisters.” It was Fig, the quiet one. The one the Antecessors wanted.

“It’s him. It’s Ubik.”

“It always is,” said Fig.

“He attacked us.”

“No. He just made it seem that way. Because he needed to.”

“Why?”

“Not to fool you, or us. Not the Fourth.”

That only left one.

This was all to convince the Machine.

The Machine was the one built to control the planet to its full potential. They were from a time when all the planets in the Inner Quadrant worked together. No one had been able to replicate that, not even Mother and Father.

But Ubik was attempting it, using the Machine.

“You really trust him?”

“Ubik? No, it’s not about trust. It’s just that his plans are all crazy, and crazy plans only work if you commit to them completely. Whether you know what the plan is or not.”

“And you think it will work?”

“More than fifty percent certain,” said Fig, “which is pretty high for him. Now, try not to draw attention to yourself. I noticed, that means others might as well.”

Synthia nodded slightly.

They were putting on an act. Without knowing why, they were willing to support Ubik’s plan to the utmost degree. They were well aware that it was unlikely to succeed, but that didn’t seem to matter to them.

Did she really want to lend her support to these people?

Her thoughts were interrupted by a ping.

“Someone’s coming. A ship. No designation. Five life signs.”

“All female?” asked Ubik.

“Yes,” said Synthia.

“Seneca,” said Fig. “They’re here.”

“Hey, come on, let’s go,” said Ubik, banging the wall of the cube with his fist. “No time left. Chop chop.”

The sigils began to glow.

“You go with him,” said Synthia to PT. “We’ll hold them off.”

PT looked a little confused. “Their Seneca. You couldn’t even handle him.” He pointed at Fig.

“We’ll slow them down, at least,” said Synthia. She looked at her sisters. They nodded back at her.

PT looked at her with a faint smile on his lips, or so she thought.

“Say Hi from me,” said Ubik. “Okay boys, time to do a bit of sightseeing.” He ran towards the portal opening in front of them.

Book 3 – 82: Follow the Leader

Inner Quadrant.

Planet Quazi.

Planet Core.

 

Ubik bent down and inspected the wall closely. It had been black with the occasional white light flashing across it, forming complicated mosaics that lasted for seconds at a time, just like every other surface inside this place.

Now there was a grey smear about the size of a palm that ruined the aesthetic. A patch of ugly. Like someone had found a crack and covered it in with cheap filler, and then forgotten to paint over it.

He had identified this particular spot as the source of the broadcast being sent out to the Inner Quadrant and beyond as part of the big Quazi extravaganza — the early show, the auction, probably an after-party and a bunch of other show business off-shoots from the Mason & Muss promotional department — and he had used it to get in touch with the Seneca ships in orbit.

That part had gone as expected, and even PT’s rather grouchy intervention wasn’t a surprise. But then he had simply touched the wall and the broadcast had come to a sudden and irrevocable halt.

His abilities were developing at quite an alarming rate. And he had yet to fully master them.

“What did you change this into?” Ubik said out loud, poking the grey plaster. It was hard and rough under his fingertips.

“Ugh,” said PT from the floor where he was lying down holding his stomach. “I didn’t change it to anything.”

“This has definitely changed.” Ubik scratched at the wall with a fingernail. Dust scraped off.

“I know,” said PT, his voice strained by pain. “But I didn’t think of anything in particular. I thought if I let it change randomly it might cause less stress to my brain.”

Ubik straightened up and turned around. PT had been writhing on the floor for a couple of minutes now. “Did it work?”

“Not as well as I’d hoped,” said PT through gritted teeth. “My brain feels fine, though.”

“Good,” said Ubik. “Organics are obviously going to have to draw their energy from somewhere. I compensated for that somewhat, but you have six of them, so there’s still going to be a surcharge to use them.”

“What kind of surcharge?” said PT.

“Oh, probably shave a couple of decades off your lifespan. No big deal. It’s the crappy years at the end you’ll be losing. You wouldn’t have enjoyed them anyway.”

PT stopped moving. “Tell me you’re joking Ubik.”

“Yeah, sure. Joking. Of course.” Ubik shifted his focus beyond PT to where Fig was pacing back and forth.

Normally, if a man was down, Fig would be doing everything in his power to get him back up. He had that leadership quality where concern for anyone on your team was considered paramount, like some kind of legendary virtue. Ubik wasn’t sure how this misconception had started — no aggressive conflict in history had ever backed up this claim, not even slightly.

Yes, people ran into the face of danger to save other people, but never anyone wearing the real fancy hat or the needlessly expensive uniform. They just told others to do it and then acted like their work was done.

Fig was young and idealistic. He would grow out of it.

“This is bad,” said Fig. He was speaking to the floor. “Really bad. She’s going to send them down here. Then it’s going to get worse.” He stopped pacing and looked at PT on the floor. “You haven’t seen her personal guard in action. They won’t stop until they get what they’ve been sent for. I can’t… I’m not going to be able to… It won’t…”

“Fig,” said Ubik. “It’s fine. We’ll be fine. Breathe. You’re not like you were before. You can deal with them. This is all going to plan.”

“This is going to plan?” said PT. “This? Are you sure?”

“Well, not my plan,” said Ubik. “But somebody’s plan. That’s how the universe works — it might not look like it, but there are patterns hidden in the chaos. Once you get into the groove of one, it’s just a fun ride with hardly any effort. You can even make small adjustments to nudge things the way you want. Just go with the flow.”

“I have no idea what the hell you’re talking about,” said PT, sitting up, one arm on the floor behind him, the other still on his stomach.

“We have to leave,” said Fig. “Ubik, get us out of here.”

Ubik shook his head. “Now isn’t a good time to—”

“PT,” said Fig, instantly switching to a more receptive ally, “we have to get out of here. I have a really bad feeling.”

“Okay, okay.” PT slowly got to his feet. He faced the cube which was covered in white streaks of light. “I suppose we can just use the sigils and hope it turns out better this time.”

“Will they let us leave?” said Fig, also looking at the cube, his eyes following the ever-changing patterns.

“Probably not,” said PT. “I wish we knew what they were planning.”

The patterns weren’t very complex. To Ubik, it was very obvious what the Fourth was trying to do. Even if he hadn’t been able to decipher the streaks of light, it wasn’t that hard to guess.

A system of sixty-four planets that were all Antecessor constructs, linked together for some purpose.

Get the connections back up and running, and you had a giant array that could do something really powerful. Probably a lot of things.

Did knowing that make a difference? Not really.

“Guys,” said Ubik. “All we have to do is wait and—”

“I could destroy it,” said PT.

“You think you can?” said Fig.

“Listen,” said Ubik. “Guys. There’s no point—”

“I think so,” said PT. “I managed to change the wall, and that seems to be made of the same substance.”

“That was a lot smaller,” said Fig.

“I might be able to at least disrupt it,” said PT.

“Hmm,” mused Fig.

“It won’t work,” said Ubik. “You can’t—”

“Worth a try,” said PT.

“It won’t work,” said Synthia. She was standing with her six sisters, watching while making some sort of conference call between them. Ubik would have tapped into their chat if he had thought there was a chance they were saying anything interesting.

“Why not?” said PT. “Look at the wall.” He pointed at Ubik who was standing in front of the wall. It was almost like he didn’t see him.

“The cube is self-repairing,” said Synthia. “It uses the planet as a power bank.”

“But the wall hasn’t repaired itself,” said Fig.

“The planet isn’t self-repairing, it needs to be actively fixed. If they wanted to change it back, they could. They don’t seem to feel it’s necessary. Or they are too consumed by what they’re doing.”

“You seem to know a lot about it,” said PT.

“Of course,” said Synthia. “This is our home.”

“So, you know how to destroy the cube?” asked Fig, impatient to get things moving.

“Can you stop ignoring me for just five seconds?” said Ubik. “Do you really think you can trust her?”

“No,” said PT. “But that’s still ten times more than I can trust you.”

“Mathematically, that makes no sense,” said Ubik.

“So you understand,” said PT.

“Perfectly,” said Ubik.

“Will you help us?” said PT, switching to Synthia.

“To destroy our home?” said Synthia.

“No, just the cube and its contents,” said PT. “And in return, we will help you take over from M1F. Most people have already abandoned the planet, so you won’t have any problems. And once you’re installed as the only world power with full control of the planet, it won’t be easy for them to come back.”

PT’s offer rolled off his tongue like it was an idea he just had. Ubik was impressed. The other leadership quality necessary was the ability to convince people to do things against their own self-interest. That one was actually a real requirement.

“I trust you,” said Synthia, “about ten times less than you trust him.” She was looking at Ubik.

“Rude,” said Ubik.

“What reason would I have to lie?” said PT.

“All of human history,” said Synthia. To be fair, that was a decent precedent to put forward.

“Okay, yes, people lie,” said PT. “But you don’t really have another choice, do you? You saw how that thing treated you. They didn’t even consider you worthy of their contempt. You think I have a low opinion of you and your sisters, at least I can be emotionally manipulated into doing what I don’t really want to do.”

It was a highly unusual approach to negotiating that PT was taking. Ubik fully approved.

Synthia had no particular expression on her face but still managed to project doubt and uncertainty.

The robots behind her were equally impassive and yet perplexed.

“I believe what you’re saying,” said Synthia. “I don’t know if that’s enough for us.”

“You’re experiencing doubt,” said PT. “That’s good. That’s the most human thing I’ve seen you do.”

He was in danger of coming across as patronising. It was a risky play but he wanted to push Synthia just enough to get her to agree. Ubik could see him turning into quite a good politician. And by ‘good’ he meant a threat to all human life outside of his own immediate self-interests.

Synthia had that glazed look again, the one that indicated she was in silent communication with her sisters. She slowly shook her head.

“No. We won’t help you. We won’t betray our maker.”

“What if they betray you?” said PT.

“They won’t,” said Synthia.

Fig turned away and PT’s shoulder’s sagged. “What’s wrong with you people? Can’t you see this is the only way? Why won’t you listen to reason?”

“Between us, we have the processing power to calculate millions of possible outcomes based on our projections of what you might or might do, and even in the ones where you keep your word, we gain no benefits. You aren’t able to affect the other humans who can undo your promises. And we don’t have the ability to resist them.”

“Fine,” said PT. “Be like that. But not all humans are as untrustworthy as you seem to think. Some of us are just trying to live our lives without bothering anyone and without being bothered by anyone. Although chance would be a fine thing.” He turned to Fig. “Looks like it’s Plan A. I’ll pour everything I’ve got into changing this thing into a cinder block. You try to keep me from exploding.”

“It won’t work,” said Ubik.

“Thanks… This isn’t some kind of reverse psychology thing, is it? You want me to do this so you’re telling me not to?”

“No,” said Ubik, “I really think it’s a bad idea.”

“Okay. Good.” PT turned back to Synthia. “You don’t want to change your mind? It’s very human to change your mind.”

“We are not human and have no desire to be,” said Synthia.

“Right.” PT let out a breath of air and took one step towards the cube, his hand raised and ready to make contact.

He stopped, his face went from cold determination to a twinge of surprise, and then he ran to his left.

The robot directly in his path stood there with no intention of getting out of the way. She was considerably heavier than him and also probably glad of a chance to prove herself by dealing with someone who wasn’t Fig.

PT turned his run into a slide at the last second and whipped her legs out from under her, which she seemed to have foreseen and made her jump backwards.

At the same time, a bolt of lightning shot out of the cube and passed through the space where she had been standing with a crackle. It struck the far wall and dissipated across the surface with a crescendo of sparks.

Everyone took a moment to take in what just happened.

“Interesting,” said Ubik as he approached the robot. “Looks like they only had a small amount of energy to spare and used it to target this one. What’s so special about you?” He turned to PT who was getting up off the ground. “And why not just take you out? And how did you see it coming?”

“Lot of questions you’ve got there,” said PT, and proceeded to answer none of them.

“They knew,” said Synthia. “They knew she was the one who wanted us to help you.” She looked at the cube, her face darkening.

All the robots took on a similar mood as they came to a collective realisation.

“Why did you save her?” Synthia asked PT.

“Just a reflex,” said PT.

“You ran five metres on a reflex?” said Synthia.

“He has hero complex,” said Ubik. “Wants to save everyone. It’s an illness.”

“The ground beneath the cube,” said Synthia. “It needs to maintain physical contact with the planet. If you change the ground directly beneath it, the cube can’t draw the power it needs to change it back.”

PT’s face lit up. “Okay. That should be doable.”

He took a step towards the cube before it lit up into a solid block of light.

“You are all going to die,” said the Fourth, “if you don’t help me.”

“Help you?” said Ubik. “Help you do what?”

“Defeat the fleet of ships that are on their way here,” said the Fourth.

“You want us to help you?” said PT.

“Not you,” said the Fourth. “Just him.” The cube’s lighting shifted to place a white glow on Ubik. “Help us reconnect this planet to the network and we will guarantee your safety.”

“You’re saying if I help you take over the quadrant, you will let me live?” said Ubik.

“Yes.”

“Protect me?”

“Yes.”

“Give me whatever I want?”

There was a short pause. “Yes.”

“Sounds like a good deal,” said Ubik. “I accept.”

“Ubik!” said PT.

“Are you crazy?” said Fig.

“I don’t know why you’re surprised,” said Synthia. “That’s the most human thing I’ve seen him do.”

Book 3 – 81: In the Deep End

Inner Quadrant.

Planet Quazi - Orbit.

SCCV Venerate.

 

Leyla knew something wasn’t right. She couldn’t put it in words, she had no specific thing to point at, she didn’t even have any evidence to support her suspicions, but she had experienced this feeling before.

It was the icy chill that crawled up her spine every time she stepped in front of one of Ubik’s concoctions.

Whether she was fighting with him or against him, when he put his plans into action — while acting like they had nothing to do with him — there was always the odd sensation that whatever you did was exactly what he wanted you to do.

At first, she had brushed it off as an irrational fear of someone who seemed to take ridiculous risks that somehow always paid off. Being lucky was better than being good, and far more dangerous.

But experience had taught her that luck had nothing to do with it. That was just what he wanted you to think.

That was why he always chose the path that seemed the most unlikely to succeed. So that when he did succeed — by methods she still wasn’t sure of, he hid them so well — it would look like he had once again been blessed by the universe.

Who could hope to defeat someone with fate on their side?

He was like a gambler who made such large bets that he couldn’t possibly be bluffing. And those that thought he had to be, lost everything to him because of course he never was. He was cheating.

“Well, Freya, what are you waiting for?” asked Nigella, sitting in the captain’s chair with her cloak overflowing over the arms, making it look like an obsidian throne.

General Freya appeared to hear her and not hear her. There was a distant look in her eyes, as though she was making calculations.

“I asked you a question, Freya.” Nigella’s voice was hard and demanding.

“I don’t understand,” said General Freya, lifting her head slightly to face Nigella. “You want to extract the one called Point-Two, but not your son?”

“Of course I want my son,” said Nigella. “He is the reason I am here. But this Point-Two, he must be brought in. He has the answers we’ve been looking for. The others are dispensable.”

“Very well,” said Freya. “We can send in a small extraction unit. What’s it like down on the planet?”

One of the bridge crew came running up with a datapad in hand. The woman was excited and spoke quickly, happy to be sharing her findings. “Severe storms are escalating across the planet. It can’t be natural. The whole globe is experiencing a rise in temperature and winds that are breaking the sound barrier. Waves are hundreds of metres high and staying at that amplitude in a regulated manner. It’s uncanny. There isn’t anywhere that’s unaffected. And every reading is consistent across the board. Zero variation. It’s like the planet is being brought to the boil.”

Freya nodded. “Looks like it’s being prepped for some kind of transformation.” She turned back to Nigella. “Sending people down there is tantamount to a suicide mission.”

“Then I’ll send my people,” said Nigella. The chair rotated so she faced the team of guards around the cradle. “Captain Fermont. I want you to take a small team down to the planet.”

“Understood,” said the shortest of the women. She may have been less physically imposing than her compatriots but she more than made up for it with the intensity of her presence. She was like ten people condensed into one taut, sinewy body.

She looked at the women beside her. “I’ll take Speers and Otenu.”

“Good,” said Nigella. The chair swivelled back. “You,” she said to Leyla, “we’ll need all the information you have on Point-Two.” She nodded at the psych who stepped forward.

Leyla stepped back, tensing. Weyla moved to stand beside her, ready.

“Are you refusing a direct order?” said Nigella.

“I don’t have to follow orders,” said Leyla. “I’m not a member of the Corps. And neither are you.”

“Do you really think that makes any difference?” said Nigella, her voice softening to almost a lullaby.

“I have no doubt you can have us both killed,” said Leyla, remaining focused on the women poised to attack from all directions, “but that won’t get you the information you want. And if you think you can capture us alive, we still have our seppukill inserts.”

“And we won’t be going out alone,” added Weyla, her eyes fixed on the Psych, who would clearly be no match for her in a physical confrontation. “The psych’s a certainty. I’d say I’ll be able to take down at least two more before you get anywhere near stopping me. Three times Corps combat-ranking champion, in case any of you forgot.”

Hate poured towards the sisters as Weyla deliberately goaded them, while Leyla braved the steady stare from Armageddon.

“I understand your concerns,” said Nigella, “but there is too much at stake here. Things you aren’t aware of. If we’re to survive, sacrifices must be made, by all of us.”

“For the greater good?” Leyla sneered.

“Yes.”

“There is no greater good,” said Leyla, “only greater power. If you think you can make us do what you want, then go ahead. But you’re the one who isn’t aware of what’s at stake here. You send in these girls and Ubik will send them back in pieces.”

“You seem to hold the boy in very high regard,” scoffed Nigella.

“You haven’t seen him in action,” said Weyla. “He doesn’t hesitate and he doesn’t get taken by surprise. He’s probably already prepared a welcome for you.”

“I’ve read your files. Have you developed feelings for him? Is that the reason you’re willing to betray your own?”

“He isn’t my type,” said Weyla. “And as for what’s in my file, don’t we have that in common?”

Nigella’s face darkened at the mention of her own exit from the Corps and the reason behind it. “I didn’t leave over a fling.”

“I don’t regret my decision,” said Weyla.

“How noble of you.” Nigella stood up. “You are still true to the Seneca ways, I’ll give you that. You refuse to back down against any opponent, as it should be. Very well. Take them with you.”

Captain Fermont was visibly startled. “Sir?”

“You heard me, Captain. They can provide you with intel in situ.” She glanced over at Weyla. “And a little extra muscle never hurts.”

“What makes you think we want to go back down there?” said Leyla, still tensed and ready for an attack.

“Don’t you?” said Nigella, her tone much more agreeable all of a sudden. “Isn’t that what all this posturing is for? Force me to grant you access back to your friends.”

Leyla relaxed, just a little. “We’ll go, but only because it’s the best chance we have of coming out of this alive. Figaro is who they want. They’ll kill anyone in their way, but they won’t kill him.”

“Incoming message from the High Council,” called out someone from the comms station. “Priority one.”

“We’ve got contacts entering the quadrant,” called out another voice. “It’s the First Battalion.”

“Second Battalion is hailing us,” said a third.

The three most powerful fleets in the Seneca Corps had gathered to face the threat of the Antecessors. Nothing on this scale had been seen for over a hundred years.

“Go,” said Nigella. “I’ll hold them off as long as I can, but they will undoubtedly decide to destroy the planet rather than allow it to destabilise the entire quadrant.”

Captain Fermont, still looking like she thought she had been handed a massive handicap to an already difficult mission, spun around and headed for the elevator. “With me,” she snapped at Leyla and Weyla as she marched past.

The baby began crying as they left the bridge.

The five of them exited on the hangar level and headed towards Nigella’s sleek, silver ship which looked like no other vessel Leyla had ever seen. The designation on the side read: POV Cygnet. An Ollo-made craft.

Leyla and Weyla brought up the rear, ignored like unwanted step-siblings.

“You really want to go back down?” said Weyla. “We only just managed to get out of there.”

“You have somewhere better to be?”

“Yes. Anywhere.”

“That broadcast we saw,” said Leyla, “did you ever see Ubik surprised or caught off-guard before?”

Weyla thought about it. “No.”

“And he knew exactly who was watching on the other end.”

Weyla nodded. “He sent the broadcast here. So?”

“So he had a reason to do it. I don’t know what it was, but I wouldn’t be surprised if this boat has already been compromised.”

Weyla looked around the massive hangar. “You think he’s taken control of the entire ship?”

Leyla shrugged. “If he has, he won’t be using it to take a pleasure cruise. I know we’ll have a better chance of surviving if we don’t get flown into the nearest star or black hole.”

Weyla began to move quicker.

They caught up with the others and entered the Cygnet. Just as they were about to enter the cabin, Fermont turned around and pushed her face nose-to-nose with Leyla.

“Listen carefully. I don’t care what essential knowledge you have or how tough you think you are now that you’ve been on the outside a few years, when we leave the Venerate, you’re under my command. You do as I say and follow orders to the letter.” She turned her head to look at Weyla. “We haven’t been introduced. Captain Luci Fermont, current Corps combat-ranking champion.”

She didn’t wait for a response and headed towards the pilot seat.

As soon as she sat down, the instrument panel lit up and the ship’s door closed. The engines began to hum.

“Fermont, are you ready?” said Nigella’s voice over the speakers.

“Final checks.”

“The High Council has ordered us to combine our attacks and neutralise the planet.”

“How long can you hold them off?” said Fermont.

“Hard to say. The Central Authority have also arrived. That should help with stalling things for a few hours at least.”

“Nigella, are you sure about this?” Fermont’s tone was much more casual now that they weren’t in front of anyone.

“You know there’s no other way. I’m counting on you to bring my son back.”

“And this Point-Two character?”

“We’ll be in a much stronger negotiating position with him than without him, but Figaro is your priority.” Her ambivalence towards her son had also disappeared now there was no audience.

“I understand.”

“And keep an eye on your guests. They may have plans of their own.”

Leyla had no doubt she was speaking over the speakers with the intention of being overheard.

“You can count on it,” said Fermont.

The two others in the cabin — Speers and Otenu — sat opposite the sisters, glaring at them.

Weyla took out her gun and began to clean it.

“Private Ollo Vessel Cygnet, this is flight control. You are cleared for departure. Be advised, weather conditions on Quazi are reaching critical. Recommend you maintain full shields at all times. Good luck.”

“Thanks,” muttered Fermont.

As they left the hangar, screens at the front of the ship showed the wreckage floating around them, the planet ahead of them, and the Seneca Corps First Battalion: hundreds of ship arriving like an unfurled carpet,

The Cygnet veered off, picking its way through the debris, heading for the planet.

Leyla’s hearing was good enough for her to be able to hear Fermont speaking bitterly to herself: “What a mess — the Affectionate’s hull, know it anywhere, tsk — all for a boy. Should’ve kept the placenta and thrown him away, I would’ve done it happily. Happily. Told her she should have only had daughters. Wouldn’t listen.”

The planet quickly grew to fill the screen. They began the descent.

The blue oceans were obscured by thick white clouds. As they entered the atmosphere, the ship began to rock and shake.

“Strap in,” Fermont called out. “I think—”

She didn’t get any further before the Cygnet’s engines went dead and the ship was thrown into a spinning dive.

Leyla activated her organic but it only allowed her to avoid the bits of the disintegrating ship that were flying around the cabin.

They had seriously underestimated the storms on Quazi. The ship was not going to be able to cope, not unless Ramon Ollo had installed some kind of ultra-impregnable safety feature. She hoped her seat could be used as a flotation device.

Then they were tumbling and spinning so fast she couldn’t even think.

The ship stopped spinning and levelled out. It was still being buffeted but the pilot was compensating somehow. Only, judging from how she was sitting slumped to the side, the pilot had been knocked unconscious.

“This is a lovely little ship,” said an elderly voice.

“Who is that?” said the one called Speers, her face cut and bruised.

“Grandma?” said Leyla.

“Oh, hello there. You alright, are you? Keeping well?”

“Why are you… Did Ubik send you?”

“That’s right. He’s such a terrible boy, always sending his poor old gran off to do errands. Go here, go there, get me a way off this planet before the Corps blows it up. Never ends, I tell you.”

“Who is she?” said Otenu. “And how did she take control of the ship?”

“It’s fine,” said Weyla. “She’s with Ubik.”

“The guy you said was the biggest threat to the quadrant?” said Speers.

“Oh, he’s not a threat,” said Grandma, “he’s just a naughty boy sometimes. He thinks very highly of your Corps, though, even if he won’t admit it. Doesn’t mind your alternative lifestyle at all. Personally, I don’t really hold with it, but who am I to judge? Just an old, old lady. I just hope you all wash your hands regularly. Ooh, looks like we’re breaking through this nasty business.”

The clouds covering the screen cleared, revealing water. Lots of water, all of it enraged.

Giant waves rolled across the surface like mobile mountains. The ship rocked from side to side but kept its altitude.

“We have to take back control of the ship,” said Speers.

“Calm down,” said Leyla. “It’s not like she’s going to jettison us.”

“Of course I won’t,” said Grandma. “Not while I need you for ballast.”

The ship suddenly went into a steep dive and they flew straight into the water.

Book 3 – 80: Mother of All Battles

Inner Quadrant.

Planet Quazi - Orbit.

SCCV Venerate.

 

Leyla sensed the change in atmosphere on the bridge of the Venerate. She had been in enough battles to know when a crew were bracing themselves for impact. Only, in this case, it wasn’t a salvo of missiles or a high-intensity laser beam they were waiting for, it was one of their own.

“Ship has entered Hanger One,” said a heightened voice trying to keep calm.

“Have her brought to the bridge,” said General Freya. She also sounded like she was making an effort to keep her voice steady.

Nigella Matton-Ollo, known affectionately as Armageddon, had appeared from the depths of space, unannounced and unexpected, swooping in to save the Seneca Corps just as she had so many times before.

She was an angel of death, but an angel still. And a legendary figure in the Corps. Even after she left, her standing didn’t change. She commanded fear and respect for who she was, not some rank granted to her by the High Council.

“She’s on route,” said one of the comms officers. “Security is reporting she has her personal guard with her and…”

“And what?” snapped Freya. 

“And a baby.”

The bridge switched from intense focus on maintaining defences while organising offensive attacks to a sudden burst of chatter.

“Quiet!” said Freya. It wasn’t shouted but it was louder than the captain on the bridge of a warship should have to issue instructions. “Of course she has a child with her. She’s only just given birth.”

Brigadier General Freya did her best to make it sound like this was all perfectly normal but it was clear to Leyla that she was just as taken aback by Armageddon’s appearance here as the rest of them. 

Not only that, but seeing her deal with the Antecessor armada with such ease was a stark reminder of who they were dealing with here. With the Antecessors, there was at least some hope of running away. 

No one ever escaped Armageddon.

The lift doors opened and a tall figure wrapped completely in black emerged, followed by six Seneca troops in special division uniform flanking a hovering cradle which gurgled and hiccupped as it was escorted out.

Leyla had seen Armageddon many times, but always at a distance. Whenever there had been any kind of ceremonial gathering, she would be there, a reminder of what the Corps stood for and what they were capable of. 

Even when she was standing next to the most powerful women in the Corps, her presence didn’t seem to fit in with the others. Slightly apart, slightly above. 

Many people had assumed she would one day take control of the High Council and lead them to even greater heights, but her air of disinterest in all things political turned out to be more than an affectation. She left the Corps without giving her troops an explanation or even a farewell.

This was the first time Leyla had seen her up close, and there was still the same air of danger about her. A feeling that anyone who got in her way might get trampled.

“Nigella,” said General Freya, standing erect and tense, hands behind her back, her ageing face smoothed by the tautness of her gaze. “It’s been a while. Thank you. Without you here, those Antecessor ships...”

“Don’t mention it,” said Nigella. She, by contrast, was relaxed and showed no signs of concern. It was strange seeing her out of utilitarian Corps uniform and wearing a tight-fitting satin dress that went down to her ankles, restricting her movements. The voluminous cape fluttered behind her and the large hood sat like a ruff around her neck.

The cradle let out a burst of crying. The nearest guard rocked it gently and the crying subsided.

“Congratulations. I hear it’s a girl. She will be a great credit to the Corps one day.”

“As will my son,” said Nigella, rather pointedly.

“He has yet to live up to his potential, wouldn’t you say?” said Freya, giving no ground. “You promised us he would have superior abilities, perfect for the breeding program. The perfect stud.”

“I promised you nothing,” said Nigella.

They stood in silent opposition for a moment.

“Black suits you,” said Freya, finally breaking the silence.

“Thank you. I’m in mourning.”

Freya couldn’t help but show her surprise. “For whom?”

“My husband,” said Nigella, standing in the middle of the bridge, eyeing the captain’s chair like she was considering what changes would make it more to her liking.

“Ramon Ollo is dead?” said Freya.

“Yes. But my son is still alive and somewhere on that planet.” She looked at Freya without having asked a question but still expecting an answer.

“Yes,” Freya said in a near-whisper. “We are looking for him.”

She turned slightly to indicate the Ghost Squad strapped into their booths around the bridge. Then she pointed at Commander Andrea. 

“This is Liss Andrea, she was down on the planet. She can answer your questions, but this is unlike anything we’ve ever seen, Nigella. Antecessor weapon of a power level that’s unheard of. We think it’s part of a hidden network running between all the planets in this sector. If they—”

“I’ve been briefed,” said Armageddon, holding up a gloved hand to stop the General. “The two x-coms, where are they?” Her voice was sharp and demanding.

“Here, General,” said Leyla, stepping forward. It never did to keep Armageddon waiting.

“I’m not in the Corps anymore, it’s just Mrs Ollo. You were with my son, yes?”

“Yes… Mrs Ollo,” said Leyla.

“He is uninjured?”

“When we left him, yes,” said Leyla.

“And where is he now?”

“I… don’t know. We held off an uprising by the robots on Quazi to allow him time to escape. If he didn’t manage to leave the planet, he probably went down with the dome.”

“He isn’t dead.” It was an unqualified statement.

“No, I don’t think he is,” said Leyla.

“He won’t die while he’s with the other two,” said Weyla. “They don’t die easily. Believe me, we’ve tried.”

Armageddon’s head lifted just enough for her to be able to look down the narrow bridge of her nose at Weyla. “These other two, who are they?”

Weyla exchanged a look with her sister. 

“It’s hard to explain,” said Leyla.

“Try,” said Nigella, “or I can have one of my psychs strip the memories directly.”

One of the six women behind her turned her head slightly and looked at Leyla.

Leyla flinched.  “No, that won’t be necessary. One is called Point-Two. He’s just an ordinary colony ship rat, nothing immediately special about him. But…”

“He has an acute understanding of gravitational compensation,” said Weyla. “Best I’ve ever seen. I’ve seen your son fight. He’s good. Very good. Point-Two can match him.” 

Nigella’s right eyebrow arched.

“The other one…” said Leyla. “He’s very… unusual. His name is Ubik.”

“The Null Void,” said Nigella.

“Yes,” said Leyla. “I’m not really sure what that is, all I know is that he is capable of things I’ve never seen before. There’s no way to contain him. If it wasn’t for the Antecessors, I’d say he was the biggest threat this quadrant faced.”

“Even with the Antecessors here…” said Weyla.

“Don’t you think you’re overstating things?” said Nigella. “Null Void simply indicates he has a CQ of zero. Incompatible with organics. Nothing more. The rest is superstitious nonsense.”

“You may be right,” said Leyla. “But you haven’t seen him in action. Whatever he is, it’s beyond anything I’ve ever witnessed from anyone, including you. It doesn’t make any sense. If Figaro is with him, I think it’s safe to assume he won’t die to the Antecessors.”

“He’s far more likely to die because of Ubik,” muttered Weyla. “We all are.”

Nigella had a puzzled look on her face. “I’d like to meet this Ubik. He sounds interesting. But first, we must locate my son. General Freya, I will be taking command of the Venerate for the time being.”

Freya sowled. “I haven’t received any such orders.”

“You will.” She moved towards the captain’s chair.

Freya looked like she might try to stop her but then her shoulders sagged. There was nothing good to be gained from challenging Armageddon.

The crew on the bridge were looking to General Freya for what to do. When they saw her acquiesce, they followed suit.

“Get one of the Ghosts back,” said Nigella.

One of her entourage moved away from the cradle while the other five closed ranks around it.

She walked over to the nearest member of the Ghost Squad and took out a glowing tube from a side pocket on her combat trousers. She plunged it into the side of the station holding the ESPer.

There was a rush of cold air that passed through Leyla on its way back into the large, comatose woman in the booth.

She made a loud sucking noise and her mouth snapped shut as her eyes snapped open.

She looked around, confused. And then shocked when she saw Armageddon where the General should have been sitting.

“Report. Where’s my son?”

The poor woman stammered and fought to get her words out. She had been dragged back by force and was still trying to reacclimatise to being returned to her body.

“Help… Can’t… Can’t get out.”

“Strip her,” said Nigella. 

The psych Nigella had mentioned before stepped forward and put her hand on the side of the ESPer’s head. 

Both women tilted their heads back, eyes rolling up, mouths hanging open.

The ESPer shook violently and then collapsed. The psych calmly wiped the side of her mouth like she had just finished a meal with a little too much sauce. Leyla shuddered.

“Get her to med bay,” said Nigella. Crew members rushed to carry the fallen woman away. “Report.”

The psych closed her eyes but there was movement under the skin as though she was scanning the backs of her eyelids.

“No sign of him on any of the landmasses on the surface. Nothing in Mason City. Dome settled on the seabed. Not there. A shaft leading down to the planet core…”

“Yes?”

“I can’t see clearly.” Movement under the eyelids grew faster. “Something… A portal. Antecessor technology. Yes, I see him. No, he’s gone. Argh, no, can’t resist...” She opened her eyes and sucked in a large volume of air, breathing hard. “He left through a portal. It looked like a sigil. The Ghosts couldn’t maintain their position for some reason. It was like they were being sucked into a vortex.” 

Leyla looked over at the remaining members of the Ghost Squad, eyes vacant and mouths open. It would be hard to tell if they had been disconnected from their spirits.

“We have several ships approaching from the Inner Quadrant joint task force,” called out one of the bridge crew. “They’re hailing us.”

“Tactical, target approaching ships,” said Nigella.

“Targets locked.”

“Fire,” said Nigella. 

There was a short pause. “All targets destroyed.”

“Good,” said Nigella. “Send an apology, template three.”

“Template three, sent.”

“That should take care of them for now. Sensor array, prepare for a quadrant-wide sweep. I’m going to ping my son’s location device. You should be able to pick up the echo.”

“I’m picking up a signal.”

“What are you talking about? I haven’t done it yet.”

“No, General… Mrs Ollo. There’s a tight-beam broadcast signal being directed at us.”

“A broadcast signal? Video?”

“It looks like… a vid show.”

The bridge went quiet.

“Put it on screen,” said Nigella.

“You can’t,” said Freya. “We have to scan it first. It could be hiding infectious code.”

“We don’t have time for that.”

“You can’t put the whole ship in jeopardy, Nigella. Protocol demands—”

“I am the protocol here,” roared Nigella. “Put it up.”

The screen lit up across the walls of the bridge. A young man was talking to a beautiful woman. 

“When I was eight I killed a man…”

“That’s Point-Two,” said Leyla.

The whole bridge watched as Point-Two explained why he killed his sister’s attacker.

The picture widened to show another young man. Figaro Ollo. He looked troubled. He seemed to be glaring at someone out of shot.

“Don’t worry,” said a voice from off-camera. “This is the quickest way to get in touch with our friends in the Corps.”

A face covered the entire screen, mostly showing the contents of two large nostrils. 

“Hello, ladies. Mrs Ollo, if you can hear me, your boy’s doing fine, very lovely person you raised there. Well done. By the way, that bunch of Antecessor ships, what happened to them exactly? You didn’t destroy them. Just shunted them into a different space, right? That’s what it felt like. Only, they won’t stay there, you know that, right? Not like everything else you’ve dumped in there. They’ll be back, and quite soon. Might want to keep an eye open. Oh, and what you might have heard before, that was justifiable homicide, okay?” He turned his head to the side. “See, I fixed it.”

“Who are you talking to, Ubik?” called out a voice from behind. 

“Your mother,” said Ubik. “Do you want to have a word?”

Ubik’s face was pushed aside as Figaro appeared.

“Where? Here?”

“Yep.”

Figaro looked directly at his mother. At all of them on the bridge.

“Mother, if you’re really here, you have to take my sister and leave immediately. They’re coming for me, but I can’t allow that. Get as far away as you can. If I have to destroy the entire quadrant, I will.”

“That’s a little pessimistic, isn’t it?” said Ubik’s voice.

“What are you two doing? It’s probably not even broadcasting. He’s just lying as usual.” Point-Two’s face appeared on screen. “Stop wasting time and help me with our unruly Antecessor god before the rest of them turn up.”

Point-Two’s eyes glowed a brilliant gold and the screen went black.

Everyone was in a state of shock. The bridge was completely silent.

“Did you see his eyes?” said Freya. “I’ve never seen anything…”

“Yes, I saw,” said Nigella. “He did it. Organic fusion. He was meant to do it for Figaro. Why did he do it for that boy?” She seemed upset. “Prepare an extraction team. I want him brought in alive.”

“Your son?” said General Freya.

“No, the other one. The one called Point-Two.”

Book 3 – 79: Heads Together

Inner Quadrant.

Planet Quazi.

Planet Core.

 

Ubik sat down on the floor, legs crossed, with the cube behind him.

White lights flickered across its surface in a flurry of activity. The Fourth was inside, protected and shielded by the cube’s original owner. He had decided to make the most of this opportunity and there wasn’t much Ubik could do about it.

He folded his arms and leaned back. He could feel the cube vibrating at a very high frequency. It was quite pleasant.

“I’d rather not,” said Fig, referring to Ubik’s suggestion that it was time for him to call in his mother.

The world was in the clutches of a malignant power, there were warships in orbit ready to vapourise them, and somewhere a fleet of Antecessor ships was still out there, but poor Fig was far more concerned about facing his mother.

Ubik never knew his own mother but surely they were meant to be kind and loving creatures. Warm embraces and embarrassing displays of affection in public. Extra-large portions of your favourite foods at dinner.

“You have a way of contacting her, right?” said Ubik. “She’s going to answer if it’s you calling.”

“It won’t work out the way you think,” said Fig. “She’ll come for me, but the rest of you…” Ubik looked from Ubik to PT. “She’s always considered my male friends to be a bad influence.”

“Is this a puberty thing?” said Ubik. “Teenage hormones making you resent your parents? Are you experiencing cold sweats and hot flashes?”

“I think you’re confusing puberty with the menopause,” said PT. “If he says it’s a bad idea, it’s probably a bad idea. Why aren’t you trying to stop the Fourth?”

“He’s ignoring me,” said Ubik. He pointed at the cube behind him. “Look at these messages it’s sending out. He doesn’t even consider us worth mentioning.”

“We can’t read what it says,” said PT.

“Oh, can’t you?” said Ubik. “Never mind, you aren’t missing anything.” He shifted his shoulders so the cube was hitting just the right spot. “If you don’t want to involve your mother, that’s fine. Just seemed like it might help.” He closed his eyes and let out a sigh. The cube also felt warmer than before.

The small copy he’d made of the cube didn’t vibrate or heat up. Either he had missed something or this was the result of the Fourth and the Machine working together.

Ubik opened his eyes and looked at Fig. “If you two work together, you can probably think of a way out of this.”

“Work together?” said Fig. “But you have the best chance of taking back control of the cube. You did it before.”

“You have to know when you’re outclassed,” said Ubik. He raised a hand and rapped his knuckles on the cube. “They’ve got all the advantages right now. Maybe they make a mistake and we get another chance, but there’s no point trying to force them when they can stay in there and run everything without taking any notice of us.”

“But what about the bone?” said Fig. “It’s their weakness, isn’t it?”

“Ahh, I wouldn’t say that,” said Ubik. “It’s more like a conduit that can siphon off energy, creating an imbalance that pushes the gradient in one direction. Slide right in, slide right out. But now that they’ve got this thing powered up and firing on all cylinders, we need a lot more power to get the bone to do its thing, if you know what I mean.”

“No, not really,” said Fig. “You can’t just hit it with the bone like before?”

“I wasn’t hitting it,” said Ubik. “I was creating a transfer of kinetic energy. And no, I can’t.”

“And the little cube you made?” Fig was clearly intent on finding some way — any way — to proceed that would not involve his mother.

“It won’t work now,” said Ubik.

“But what if—”

Fig was pushed aside by PT who stepped in front of him. “He’s right. We don’t need him, we can deal with this between us. Think of it this way, how often does he let us take the lead?”

Just for a moment the two of them looked at each other as though they were communicating telepathically. As far as Ubik was aware, neither of their organics gave them that ability, but the two of them had been in so many near-death situations that it wasn’t surprising that they had developed some sort of intuitive understanding.

Fig slowly turned to look at Ubik, his eyes no longer fretting about his mother, now full of suspicion. PT really was a bad influence.

PT turned and addressed Synthia, who was still trying to make sense of the predicament they were in. She was having trouble with the fast pace of change with every new problem being significantly worse than the last one. She would get used to it.

“You said you could sense ships in orbit,” said PT. “How many?”

Synthia stared at PT impassively. “Maybe it would be best if we go our separate ways.” There was a coldness in her tone that was more than just the neutrality of a robot.

“You mean with them?” said PT. He was looking past her at her six robot siblings.

All six were up and active, but they all displayed the same pained expression — the wincing squint of a serious headache.

“They’ll be fine,” said Synthia. “They just need to finish updating.”

Synthia had forced an update on them in the simulation. When they were returned to the real world, the update had carried over. It had been uploaded into their primary processor, so the information was directly delivered into their brains.

Now they were trying to process the instructions here, even though whatever the upgrade was had been triggered in a different reality.

Such things were not advisable. Don’t cut the power, don’t make any hardware changes and definitely don’t initiate the update in a simulation and leave halfway through. No better way to void your warranty.

Ubik knew of a way to stop the unstoppable update. The manufacturers would say there wasn’t one. Not a safe way. Not one they approved of. But of course there was always a way.

But Ubik was curious to see how the six sisters would cope. You could learn a lot about a machine from the way it handled an error. Self-repair was a common feature for most devices these days. Self-repair that was actually successful was another matter. And self-cleaning was just an out and out marketing lie.

Still, it was nice seeing those of limited talent coming together to pool their resources in an attempt to survive. It almost gave Ubik hope for the universe.

“You’re staying here,” said PT. “This is your planet. You know how it works. You can be useful.”

“No,” said Synthia. “I have seen enough of you and your friends in action to know we have a better chance of surviving this on our own.”

PT nodded, not showing any anger or irritation at being turned down so firmly. He took rejection very well.

“I don’t care,” said PT. “We need a read on what’s happening up there, and you can give it to us. If you don’t want to cooperate, I’m happy to rip your head off and build an improvised rig out of your disassembled brain parts.” PT turned to Ubik. “You can at least do that much, can’t you?” He turned back to Synthia before Ubik had a chance to answer.

Fig, the able friend, did not support PT with words or even threats. He simply moved towards Synthia with the clear intention of holding her down while PT unscrewed her head from the neck.

She moved back, glancing at her sisters who were still in a state of flux. She didn’t have a choice.

“Fine. I’ll do it. Just wait a moment.”

She tilted her head up and her eyes rolled back.

Ubik could tell that she really was doing what PT wanted, she was just doing it a lot slower than she was capable of. But that was alright. He was also slow rolling in order to let events catch up with where he needed them to be.

“This place is amazingly put together,” said Ubik.

“Yes, I know,” said Grandma from the small cube in his hand. “It’s far more impressive now that they’re running at something close to full capacity. Very nice. I especially like the pretty lights.”

Ubik leaned back so his head was resting on the large cube and took in the whole chamber.

The first time he came down here he immediately recognised the clever way that energy was distributed and circulated within the core, using the whole planet as a conductor and the core as a focal point. But he had only seen a fraction of what the planet could achieve.

Not what it was fully up and running, it was like a completely different entity. Like the difference between roller skates and a rocket ship.

Ubik had always had a gift for sensing the flow of electricity through a circuit. It wasn’t some amazing power, not something he could quantify or manipulate, but when energy shifted, when it moved in a way that pushed things ahead of it and dragged along what was behind, it created a current that was physically present and detectable. Like movement in water. Or in air.

It wasn’t just one molecule moving around, it was a shunt effect. If one moved, all moved. And that was what he was sensitive to. Usually on a small scale.

But in this room, he was in the middle of a vortex. It was global power condensed into a small space that had been built to harness it and then send it back out.

When he closed his eyes, it was like music. Admittedly, it was more like music when you were deaf, mostly bass and changes in pressure, but the rhythm was easy to follow.

The rhythm in this room was building to a crescendo.

The potential for what you could do with it was limitless.

Being able to change weather patterns was the least of it.

And it was all under the control of the Fourth.

Almost all of it.

There seemed to be one note running counter to the others. A little bit off-key.

Nothing big or powerful, just not part of the rest. Not integrated. This one stream running against the flow felt more like what he had felt when he first entered the core. Something left behind from when M1F had been at the helm.

A signal, weak but persistent, heading straight out.

“You know,” said Ubik, “the problem with the whole Antecessor plan is that they don’t really belong here. They should have done their job creating the universe and then faded away quietly. They can’t succeed because they can’t learn how to live in a universe they think they fully understand. How can you learn to win an unfair fight if you’ve always held the advantage? It’s not possible, is it?” He had his head turned just enough so that his words were spoken to the dark wall of the cube.

They weren’t listening in there. They had already claimed victory in the battle for this planet.

“Think about it. We were placed into a universe that gives us nothing but problems and hardships and nothing but deadly threats, yet we are able to survive merely by imagining something better. We don’t have any way of knowing if better exists, but we still imagine it and then act on it and make it exist. How? How can we create something we don’t know, have never seen, have no experience of, simply by being inconvenienced by its lack? Almost as though it was a role assigned to us, hmm?”

The buzz of the cube’s vibrations intensified. Whatever the Fourth was doing, it was doing more of it.

Ubik pushed his lower back against the cube to really feel the benefit.

“You know what I would love to see, Grandma?”

“What’s that, dear?”

“I’d love to get on board a fully crewed, fully operational Antecessor ship. Everything working like it should be, manned by the original hands. If lighting up this place can reveal so much about how their technology worked, imagine what a real Antecessor warship would show us. This planet only had one job, but a warship has so many tasks to accomplish, so many different variables to deal with… the complexity of the patterns they create must be off the charts. I’d love to see it up close and personal.”

Synthia lowered her head and looked at PT with open contempt. “There are six ships with their weapons trained on the planet. They all show Seneca Corps designations. There are a further twelve ships facing away from Quazi. None of the ships are preparing to fire and judging by their heat signatures they stopped all attacks some time ago. I don’t know what they’re waiting for, but I have identified a number of ships approaching, although none of them appear to be armed. Does that satisfy you? Do you now have the information you need to get us all out of here safely?”

PT glared right back at her, although he had little chance of winning in a staring competition.

“The ships approaching, where from? Edge of the quadrant or interior?”

“Interior,” said Synthia. “They’re too far for me to identify but I would guess they are a delegation from the other planets looking to negotiate with the Corps before things get out of hand.”

“The Corps doesn’t negotiate,” said Fig.

“Not with enemies,” said Synthia, “but these aren’t—”

“They don’t negotiate with anyone,” said Fig.

“Then it makes no difference if I try,” said Synthia. “Unless you’ve already come up with an exit strategy.”

“I’m working on it,” said PT. He chose that moment to look over at Ubik. Ubik gave him a thumbs up. If he was trying to impress the sex robot before they all died, good for him. His flirting technique could use the practice.

“I have spent my life becoming what people want me to be in order to make them happy. Men, women, it makes no difference. As long as they have sexual desires,” Synthia gave PT a stern look, “I can fulfil them.”

“You want to seduce the commander of the Seneca fleet?” said PT.

“Yes,” said Synthia. “I can be whatever she wants me to be. Face, body, size of sexual organs. I can even change my personality. You want to stay here, fine. Let me and my sisters leave.”

“Update complete,” said the robot nearest to her. “Synthia, why did you—”

Synthia raised a hand. “Not now, Number Three.” Number three stopped talking.

“If they aren’t powering up weapons then we still have some time,” said PT. “And you can go when we no longer need you.”

Synthia looked at Number Three.

PT put his hand on the robot’s shoulder and her arm turned into a green leafy vine hanging uselessly by her side.

“And if you try to fight your way out I’ll turn every one of your robot siblings into a pile of slag.”

Ubik was impressed by how cold-hearted PT was being. Some women like that. Liked being bullied. Synthia was a robot, though, and would probably just try to kill him when she got the chance.

Number Three looked at her arm in mild confusion and then pulled the vines off and let them fall on the floor. Then she went into what looked like a trance and her arm grew back. It only took a few seconds. Ubik was amazed. A proper self-repair function. There was no way they would be putting that in the production model.

“We can kill him,” said Number Three. The other five robots now stood beside her.

“No,” said Synthia. She turned to PT. “Just tell me what you want. If we stay here, we’ll all die.”

“You don’t understand people,” said PT, “you only understand biology. When I was eight I killed a man because he thought what he wanted was what he should have. A simple biological drive. What he wanted was my sister, naked, half-dead and bleeding. He thought that was what would make him happy. He was wrong. Have you ever seen how blood leaves the carotid artery in zero gravity? It takes forever. Makes it a very slow death. You can really see the change in their expression, in their eyes, as they realise they never should have tried to take things that didn’t belong to them, it was far more important to keep hold of what they already had. I still have my sister and now he has nothing. Don’t make the same mistake.”

“Um,” said Fig. “What’s that?” He was looking at Ubik. Or around him.

“What’s what?” said Ubik.

PT was staring at him now as well. “The cube, it’s got a circle of light around you.”

Ubik turned his neck as far as he could. The white lights that had been running up and down the cube had stopped and instead had formed a Ubik-shaped outline around him.

“Oh, that. It’s a tiny hole I made in their defences.”

“You’re attacking the cube?” said Fig.

“What? No. That wouldn’t work. But I found part of the signal Miff set up. I managed to get it back up and running.”

“What kind of signal?” said PT.

“Broadcast signal,” said Ubik. “They were broadcasting us on their channel, remember? To the whole quadrant and beyond. I wonder if we’re famous.”

“And now?” said PT.

“Oh, I doubt anyone’s watching. Everyone ran away. Or died. It’s just the Corps now.”

“The Corps?” said Fig. “We’re being broadcast to the Corps? Right now?”

Ubik nodded. “Yep. You might not want to talk to them, but I thought I could still have a word, get them on our side. I mean, I’m no sex robot, but I can be quite the charmer.”

“Please no,” said PT. “How long has it been live?”

“Not long,” said Ubik. “Although they probably did hear you confessing to that murder.” Ubik pulled a yikes face. “Sounded like you killed a horrible guy, though. They should probably thank you for saving them the trouble.”

Book 3 – 78: The Ubik Method

Inner Quadrant.

Planet Quazi.

Planet Core.

 

Ubik walked towards the cube full of confidence.

This was all going very well. Much better than he had planned. Not that he was surprised since most of his plans were designed for events to exceed expectations.

That was the beauty of coming up with ideas no one else would — they were frequently terrible, which gave real life the space it needed to really shine.

He had always been aware that the universe wanted to create things that were elegant and beautiful, that created interlocking patterns and formed completely logical structures, it was just that its previous creations constantly interfered and tried to force things to conform to what was beneficial to the status quo.

The old always resented the new.

If you truly wanted to see the full potential of what could be achieved by giving chaos free rein, all you had to do was get out of the way.

Ubik stopped in front of the cube, holding one end of the black bone in his hand while resting the other end on his shoulder where it bounced gently up and down.

“Hello? Anyone home?” He reached out with his other hand knocked.

The cube had streaks of white light running across its surfaces, indicating that it was up and running.

Where his knuckles made contact, the white lines spread out like ripples on water.

“My name’s Ubik. I don’t think we’ve met.”

There was no response.

The lights grew brighter and moved faster. The cube hummed and the whole chamber seemed to respond.

Ubik turned to the others. “I think something’s going on in there.”

PT and Fig were both watching with intent expressions that suggested they were waiting for something terrible to happen.

Synthia was standing with them, her face slowly mirroring their lack of faith. At least she was using this opportunity to add a new expression to her database.

“Oh, you think so, do you?” said PT. “An Antecessor computer that is now back in its original box and has access to all its old systems which were used to create this planet and control every moving part along with every other planet in this quadrant, and you think it might be up to something. Amazing insight. What are you going to do about it?”

“Hey, I’m not the one who brought it back here,” said Ubik, not appreciating the high level of sarcasm from PT. “I’ve never even spoken to it, so I can’t be blamed for whatever it’s doing in there, can I?”

PT looked like he wanted to say something but his mouth remained closed.

“Can you stop it?” asked Fig.

“Of course,” said Ubik. “This is one of the best outcomes we could have hoped for.”

“This is one of the best?” said PT, his tone flat and not at all sarcastic, which made it all the more difficult to explain how he still managed to make it come across like the most sarcastic comment he had ever made. It was like art that was made by throwing paint at a wall and somehow producing a masterpiece.

“I figured there was a chance we would get bounced back here, so I arranged a few precautions so we would have the advantage,” explained Ubik. “If they’d taken us to Jove, then it might have got a bit tricky. But here, a place we’ve already been and had time to set things up, I wouldn’t even call it a fair fight.”

PT and Fig looked around the room. They were in Quazi’s planet core where the Fourth had wrested control away from M1F.

To the untrained eye, it probably looked like a big empty cavern. Nothing had changed since they had exited via the sixty-fifth sigil.

Of course, that was how Ubik had wanted it to appear. No point setting a trap if everyone can see it.

But they would see it soon enough, and then they would be impressed despite themselves.

The cube lights intensified and moved even faster. It was operating at a level well beyond what M1F had been able to maintain. This was to be expected. The original owner was now in control, and even if the cube had aged and was no longer at its best, it was still going to be able to demonstrate a much higher level of activity.

“Shouldn’t you do something then?” said PT. “It can control the whole planet from here.”

“Yep, yep, no problem,” said Ubik. “Grandma, could you shut everything down for me?”

There was a short pause before Grandma’s voice was heard coming from the control panel on Fig’s arm.

“Ooh, that’s strange. Looks like I won’t be able to do that at the moment. Sorry, my lovely.”

Ubik was a little taken aback. It wasn’t often Grandma wasn’t able to do what he asked, especially when it was something they had set up together.

“Grandma?” said Fig to his arm. “You’re here.”

“Yes, dear.”

“Were you in the simulation?”

“Oh no,” said Grandma. “I really don’t like the way those artificial worlds try to make you believe things that aren’t true. Very disturbing. I stay clear of all that nonsense. You should, too.”

“She can’t be simulated,” said Ubik.

“Why not?” said Fig.

“Long story. Grandma. The array isn't working?”

“That’s right, dear. It’s definitely not working.”

“Isn’t the, ah, array installed correctly?”

“No.”

“No?”

“No.”

The others were looking at him. He gave them a reassuring smile. “It’s fine. Probably a loose connection.”

“No, no, no, not a loose connection,” said Grandma. “Nothing loose here.”

“Not a loose connection.”

“No.”

“Then…”

“Well, to be honest, dear, it looks like someone’s stolen it,” said Grandma.

“They stole the array? Someone came down here and stripped out the array and took off with it?”

There was another pause. “Yes. I think that’s a wonderful summary of what happened.”

Grandma was always supportive, even when it pertained to bad news. The others could learn a thing or two from her.

It only took Ubik a second to work out who it must have been. “Smyke.” He shook his head. This was the problem with showing someone a little mercy by not murdering them. Never again.

“Grandma, can you open up the revenge list.”

“Yes, dear. It’s getting quite full, though.”

“How many people on there now?” asked Ubik.

“Mmm, 786.”

“Okay,” said Ubik. “Put Smyke in at two hundred.”

“What’s going on Ubik?” said PT.

“Well, he deserves to be punished but it’s not like he’s the worst person I’ve ever met. Two hundred is about—”

“I mean the cube. What’s happening with the cube.”

“Oh, that, it’s under control,” said Ubik, spinning around and giving everyone his most convincing smile of utterly assured confidence.

“We’re screwed,” said PT.

“We should get out of here,” said Fig.

“There’s no need to overreact,” said Ubik. “We just need to talk this out with… What did you say their name was?”

“I didn’t,” said PT. “They don’t have a name. Not one they’ve told us.”

“Interesting. No name, pure function. Well, that’s fine. We can just give it a name.” Ubik looked over his shoulder at the cube. “We’ll call them Machine.”

“That’s a bit impersonal, isn’t it?” said PT.

“They don’t care,” said Ubik. “They’re a machine. Machine’s don’t care about things like names and being treated with respect and all that stuff.”

“That isn’t true,” said Synthia.

“I’m not talking about machines like you,” said Ubik. “I mean machines that have a purpose and don’t have time to make up problems for themselves to wallow in.”

He had tried to differentiate between the two different types of machines as clearly as possible, but Synthia seemed to be having difficulty processing his explanation. Her face was contorting into all sorts of weird shapes, suggesting there was probably a faulty connection between her processor chip and her facial motor receptors.

“Fine, we’ll call them Mac,” said Ubik. “Nice and friendly. Now watch me bring Mac over to our side. Everyone step back. Just give me some room. This is a little delicate, so a little cooperation would be nice.”

Nobody moved.

Ubik didn’t mind. He knew it was time to bring the magic. To do the thing only he could do. Save the day. Make the million to one shot. Rise from the rubble clutching a diamond.

He raised the black bone he was carrying and lightly but firmly struck the cube with it.

There was a hollow chime, deep and musical, but also powerful and full of promise.

“What is that supposed to do?” said PT.

“Wait,” said Ubik.

They waited.

Nothing happened.

Ubik polished the end of the bone on his sleeve and then banged it hard against the cube in a far less elegant manner.

The flashing lights stopped. The cube was utterly black.

“Please don’t do that,” said a polite but exact voice. The cube began to flicker with light again.

“Nice manners,” said Ubik. “Always the sign of a higher intelligence.”

“Absolutely,” said Grandma.

“I think we can work with them,” said Ubik.

“You can do whatever you set your mind to,” said Grandma.

“I don’t suppose you want to go in there and have a word.”

“No thank you,” said Grandma.

Ubik sighed. Sometimes, you had to take the direct approach. Ubik swung the bone in a wide arc and smashed it into the cube. And then followed up with another and another.

With M1F it had been much easier. They only had a weak attachment to the cube. With the Fourth, that was a lot easier because he had a much stronger attachment to the bone. But this one was already integrated into the system like it really belonged here. Getting it out was not going to be easy.

He took the bone in two hands and swung it again.

“This is you being delicate, is it?” asked PT.

“I have a very gentle touch,” said Ubik, striking the cube so hard the bone left an impression. Which quickly disappeared.

The cube went dark again. Then it turned completely white. Two black circles appeared and looked at Ubik as though they were eyes.

A line appeared under them.

“You will stop doing that,” said the newly formed mouth.

A humanoid face. Why would it bother with wanting to appear human?

Ubik could only think of one reason, which was to keep his attention on the cube.

He turned and looked around the chamber. There were flickers of light running up and down the walls but he didn’t recognise any of the patterns. Not because they were indecipherable to him but because they seemed incomplete. Like they had pieces missing.

Ubik smiled. Good old Smyke. He had stolen more than the array Ubik had left here. He would drop him down a few hundred spots on the revenge list.

“Look, Mac, you can stall all you want,” said Ubik. “You can’t access the rest of the planet, can you? Which means we’re in a closed system. The perfect time for me to introduce you to someone.”

“Hey, come out of there.” Ubik had a small cube in his hand which he was shouting at. “Come on.” He shook the cube vigorously.

The small cube glimmered with a weak light.

“I refuse,” said a petulant voice.

“We had a deal,” said Ubik.

“Which you broke,” said the Fourth.

“You broke it first,” said Ubik. He looked at the others who were staring at him. “He’s always grouchy first thing.”

Ubik placed the small cube on the ground and crouched over it.

“Look, I just need you to go in there and bring out the guy hiding inside.”

“I already did.”

“No, this is a new guy. You’ll like them, they’re from the old times. You’re stronger than them and smarter. Should be easy.” Ubik lowered his voice. “Just take care of this and I’ll do that thing we discussed.”

“Ubik, you aren’t making deals with an Antecessor god, are you?” said PT. “Because that isn’t going to turn out well.”

“Of course not,” said Ubik. “Although I think you’re allowing your prejudices to get the better of you. Yes, the Antecessors are a violent society looking to dominate the galaxy by force, but they’re fundamentally honest.”

“You will restore my memories in full,” said the Fourth.

“You know it,” said Ubik.

“And you will release me from this prison.”

“Will do,” said Ubik.

“Once I am free, I will use every power at my disposal to kill you and your friends,” said the Fourth.

“See?” said Ubik. “Honest to a fault.”

“I don’t think this is a good idea,” said Fig.

“It doesn’t have to be a good idea,” said Ubik. “It just has to work.”

He picked up the small cube and touched it to the big cube. There was a crackle of lightning as a spark jumped between the two.

Both cubes went dark.

“It is done,” said the Fourth, his voice coming from the larger cube.

“That was quick,” said PT.

“Have you reconstructed the planetary infrastructure?” continued the Fourth

“To your specifications, Master,” said a second voice from the cube. This one was very well-mannered.

“Then the fleet?”

“I have contacted the fleet. They have locked onto our sigil and will be here shortly.”

“Good. You have done well,” said the Fourth.

“Thank you, Master. My purpose is to obey.”

“Ubik,” said PT, “did you just give the Fourth an assistant?”

“Me? No, I don’t think so.”

“But they seem to be working together now,” said Fig.

“Mmm? Do they? Shouldn’t make a difference. I’ve already factored it in.”

“How have you factored it in?” asked PT.

Ubik tried to think up a good answer. Nothing came to mind so there probably wasn’t one.

Ubik turned to Fig. “Fig, so, your mother. Any chance she could give us a ride out of here?”