Deeper Darker

First Quadrant Border

Central Authority Space Station New Haven

Hall of the First Trial

The noise in the hall was so loud it created a physical pressure blasting them from all sides.

They were shouting accusations of cheating, of bribing the Central Authority, of being organics.

There were also other, less savoury allegations being made that were mostly biologically impossible, although one day genetic engineering would make them all commonplace, no doubt.

Point-Two looked from the enraged faces, up to the screen and then to the entrance they had just come out of.

The screaming and shouting and flying spittle didn’t bother him. The other applicants had obviously seen Ubik’s victory over the three robots on the giant screen and were understandably outraged.

They had every right to vent their anger.

The question that occurred to Point-Two, though, was why had they exited the same way they’d entered?

The previous victor — Regal Starveldt — hadn’t returned to this hall.

There had to be other ways in and out, not least of all because the injured needed to be taken away for treatment.

The second trial was obviously in some other location, so why would anyone want to come back out this way?

They wouldn’t, of course. You would have to deliberately force this door open again if you wanted to come back here for some reason.

He looked over at Fig, who was looking at Ubik with the suspicious gaze of someone who knew who the culprit was but hadn’t yet worked out what exactly they were guilty of.

Ubik himself didn’t seem at all perturbed or even surprised by their reception. If anything, he appeared to be soaking it up like it was some kind of applause for a good job well done.

“We have the second passing applicant of the day,” boomed a voice over the clamour. “Congratulations to… Unknown for passing the first trial.”

The voice sounded a little different than before. More feminine.

The screen above them showed Ubik strolling nonchalantly away from the three robots as they fell apart for no visible reason. It was understandable why people found the Ubik way of doing things was one that beggared belief.

No weapons, no tactics, no effort. Success!

Point-Two had seen it several times and he still found it hard to believe.

The outrage around them rose to deafening levels. No one tried to get closer to them, no one climbed over the very minimal partitions that separated the other applicants into lanes. They wanted to voice their displeasure, but they didn’t want to lose their place in line.

“An objection has been lodged and an investigation has been launched,” boomed the voice in exactly the same congratulatory tone, the same older lady voice. “Updates will be made available soon. The next gate is now ready!”

Four drones hovered down the lane towards them. They were bigger than the one Grandma had commandeered. They were the size of a human torso, and had a vaguely head-like protuberance on top. They even had two arms on either side of their barrel-shaped chests, ending in multi-pronged claws.

The crowd quietened down. This was what they wanted to see what was going to happen. How were these cheats going to be dealt with?

The mood seemed more upbeat now. Point-Two could hear people congratulate the CA for taking prompt action against the deplorable scammers.

The first drone came up to Ubik while the other three spread out to surround them.

“You will come with us.”

“Looks like we’ve been rumbled, boys,” said Ubik. “What do you want to do? Fight our way out?”

“Lead the way,” said Point-Two to the drone, not in the least concerned. “We’re happy to cooperate.”

“Can I request a list of the exact regulations we may have infringed?” asked Fig. “You’re required to provide a full copy before any charges are recorded in the permanent registry, assuming you follow Central Authority guidelines.”

“All guidelines are strictly adhered to,” said the drone. “All relevant files will be made available.”

“You’re going to let them take us into custody?” said Ubik. “What if they incarcerate us for the rest of our lives.” He lengthened his last few words like he was telling a ghost story.

Point-Two turned to the drone. “If we’re found guilty of a crime, do we get separate cells?”

“All Central Authority incarceration units are single service.”

“That’ll be fine, then,” said Point-Two.

The four drones escorted them towards a side entrance. Grandma’s drone hovered in between the three boys, entirely ignored by the drones, which wasn’t surprising.

The crowds jeered a little but their fury had been somewhat appeased by the swift enactment of justice. Or what they thought was justice.

Point-Two knew better. Fig was similarly unaffected.

“It would have made a better show if you’d put up a bit of a struggle,” said Ubik as they passed through the doorway with several signs on it insisting no entry was permitted. They passed into a corridor made of solid metal walls, possibly from some old starship, which made Ubik’s whisper reverberate loudly.

The four drones didn’t seem to hear.

“Are you controlling these four drones, Grandma?” asked Fig.

“Who me, dear? No, no. Hardly at all. They’re just four good boys who like to help an old lady. The Central Authority has such an unfair reputation for interfering and such and such, when they’re just trying their best. Aren’t you, boys?”

“Yes, Grandma,” said the four drones.

“Okay, Ubik,” said Point-Two. “You beat the first trial, you got us out the back way, which is the front way, and we’re away from prying eyes. Now what?”

“The second trial, of course,” said Ubik. “This is a marathon, not a sprint. Actually, it’s more of an assault course. With bathroom breaks.”

“And what is the second trial?” asked Fig.

“I don’t want to spoil the surprise,” said Ubik.

“Grandma, what’s the second trial?” said Fig.

“Ooh, it’ll be fun. I’m sure you’ll do very well.”

“You, drone… 45098,” said Fig, peering at the back of the drone’s neck. “What is the second trial?”

“Team battle between all successful applicants from the first trial,” said the drone.

“Oh, come on,” said Ubik. “What kind of security protocols are the CA even running?”

“It isn’t privileged information,” said Point-Two.

“How many successful applicants are there?” Fig had realised Point-Two was keeping Ubik occupied so he could get a few more answers.

“Currently there are three hundred and forty.”

“That many?” said Point-Two.

“Must be more trial halls around the space station,” said Fig. “How many teams will take part in the second trial?”

“Two,” said the drone.

“This is going to be no fun at all if you keep giving everything away,” said Ubik.

“Good,” said Point-Two.

“Looks like it’s going to be some sort of war games,” said Fig. “Probably a way to identify leadership candidates and those who do well under pressure. If it’s for Guardian nominees, they’ll want people who can act independently and in a team. They also like them to be somewhat resistant to authority. The CA uses the Guardians to counter their own tendency towards informational paralysis. If we want to do well, we probably need to break a few rules and use unexpected methods.”

Point-Two looked from Fig to Ubik. “I think we’ve got it covered.”

From his perspective, these trials were all dependent on Ubik. He would easily find a way to overcome whatever the Central Authority had arranged for them. There really wasn’t any need to worry about the details. What he and Fig had to be prepared for were their own trials. The ones that they’d been undertaking since the first day they met Ubik.

The drones took them to a small room that turned out to be an elevator. It moved them quickly in several different directions. When they exited, they were on a large platform surrounded by massive girders, in between which was nothing. Or so it appeared at first glance.

The open views on all sides showed the different arms of the space station stretching away from them and beyond that, endless open space. They were in the heart of New Haven.

There were also hundreds of other people here, all dressed in battle suits and fully armed. Drones flew around as though on patrol.

People were talking, cleaning weapons, checking their gear.

The effect was that of an army waiting for deployment.

“Everyone here’s fully decked out,” said Point-Two.

“Yes,” said Fig. “Mostly high-quality, military-grade equipment.”

It was to be expected. These were the people who had passed the first trial.

Point-Two felt severely underdressed in his basic spacesuit and waterproof poncho.

A few glances were thrown their way as they entered, but mostly the people here were looking at the screens all around them showing off the loadouts of each of the successful applicants.

The weapons, armour and devices used to succeed were listed with prices and availability.

There were also several consoles with menus where you could purchase the items shown.

Point-Two found the whole thing rather crass. Wasn’t this whole thing just a marketing exercise for the selling of overpriced gear to the desperate? Rich people with no organics but a need to succeed.

“Isn’t that the guy?” said Fig, nodding towards a tall man in blue armour.

Point-Two looked him up and down. It was Regal Starveldt, their fellow successful applicant. He no longer had any injuries and his suit was fully repaired.

He was looking right at them.

Then he turned around and walked over to a console and accessed it. A few seconds later, the screen above him showed a still image of Ubik. Alongside him was where his loadout should have been. But it was empty.

No weapons, no armour, no devices of any kind.

A few people seemed to notice the oddness of this profile and people started gathering around Regal. There was some mumbling and glances over in Ubik’s direction.

Point-Two and Fig quietly moved a step away from Ubik. It wasn’t that they were worried about being associated with him, it just made sense to give him a little room. Point-Two pulled his goggles down over his eyes.

Ubik stepped forward, arms raised. “Hey, everyone, I know what you’re all thinking,” he said, addressing the entire room. “How did we manage to defeat the first trial without any weapons? Must have cheated. Well, you’re right. I did cheat.”

Every single person, even those who hadn’t been interested in the newcomers, now had their eyes on Ubik.

Point-Two took another step back. To give Ubik extra room.

“You see,” said Ubik, “they don’t mind cheating here. It shows initiative. And it’s not like I used any underhanded methods.”

“What methods then?” said Regal Starveldt, speaking up for the group.

“Nothing fancy,” said Ubik. “I used a sonic EMP charge to disable the robots. No need to fight if they stop working, right? Doesn’t show up on my performance chart over there because it isn’t classified as a weapon. They’ve never seen it before because I invented it. That’s my thing, messing around with tronics. Take your outfit.”

Ubik approached Regal.

“Newish model of the RT-6 reinforced flight suit by Rigolo, right? Full specs apart from the multi-targeting tactical rig, because, of course, the CA never approved it.”

Ubik took hold of Regal’s wrist and turned it over. The panel covering his forearm popped open and a holographic control panel hovered in the air.

“But,” said Ubik, “they still installed it, in case they got approval. It’s there, it’s just not active. Until now. Try it.”

The control panel snapped shut again.

Regal looked confused. “This is a secure zone. Weapons can’t be activated here.”

“That’s only for the authorised ones,” said Ubik. “No need to deactivate weapons that are already inactive.”

Regal still looked doubtful but he pulled down the visor on his helmet. “Full sweep, target all potential threats.”

Small flaps opened along his arms, on the shoulders and at his waist. Beams of red light zig-zagged around the room and then disappeared, leaving only red spots on the chests of every drone around them.

The visor on Regal’s helmet snapped back up. Regal blinked like he had just been blinded by a bright light.

“So much… so much more.” He was flabbergasted.

“This next trial is a team battle,” said Ubik, raising his voice to let everyone know he was talking to all of them. “Anyone who wants to be on my team, I’ll upgrade your weapon systems for free.”

There was a rush of people towards Ubik.

“Um, Grandma,” said Fig, “do you get to choose which team you’re on?”

“No,” said Grandma. “That would be silly.”

Fig shook his head. “Then what is he doing?”

“He’s getting them to give him access to their suits,” said Point-Two. “This is going to be the shortest battle the Central Authority has ever seen.”