First Quadrant Border

Central Authority Space Station New Haven

Ubik couldn’t help but feel excited when he saw the space station appear on the viewing screen of the small freighter. It was huge. And it was beautiful.

“That is one ugly looking monster,” said PT, as he piloted their craft in between the dozens if not hundreds of other ships heading for the same destination.

“It looks like they gathered every ship ready for decommissioning and welded them together,” said Fig.

What he was referring to was the amorphous blob that was made up of various spaceships slotted together at different angles.

To the untrained eye, it could quite easily look like a haphazard mess.

There was no symmetry to it. There was no way to read it on a functional level. Where was the front? Where was the back? What was it built to do? How were you meant to approach it?

But, if you looked at it with the eyes of someone who appreciated true art, then you would see an unravelling fractal, like a snowflake with no obligation to explain itself.

“This is perfection,” said Ubik.

“You only think that because you grew up in a junkyard,” said PT.

“I have to agree,” said Fig.

“Thank you,” said Ubik.

“With PT. This whole thing is structurally very unsound. And the defences have massive holes in them. Look at all the blindspots! Even if they weren’t letting us in, we could probably sneak past without being spotted. And where are the security checks? Look at all these ships just flying straight in. It’s like they don’t even care.”

“Lucky for us,” said PT. “I was worried they’d scan us before we got anywhere close and blow us to pieces.”

“Oh, you think it’s down to luck?” said Ubik. “I tell you I can get us in without being discovered, I get us in without being discovered, and suddenly it’s random chance that we got in without being discovered. I’m starting to think you two don’t trust me to fulfil my obligations.”

PT turned around in the pilot’s seat and looked at Ubik. Then he turned back to face the screen. “We haven’t got in without being discovered yet.”.

“Credit where it’s due,” said Fig. “He obviously knew how lax their security would be. He did his research.”

“Of course I did,” said Ubik. “They have so many people coming here for the trials, they can’t maintain their usual levels of screening, so they don’t bother. It’s not like anyone’s going to start something on a Central Authority space station.”

“It’s called New Haven,” said PT.

“I know,” said Ubik. “New Heaven. It’s their biggest, most advanced border complex. They do the trials here, they have their academy here, training facilities, probe launching station for this sector, patrol station — it’s all here. Somewhere.”

As they drew closer, the station became too large to fit on their screen. It looked like a massive collision between a bunch of old ships that had become lodged inside one another.

“I don’t think this can be their main station in this region,” said Fig. “It doesn’t make any sense. It’s a giant mangled mess.”

“He called it their jewel in the crown,” said PT.

“It looks more like a decoy made to fool the applicants,” said Fig, “while the real base is hidden somewhere.”

“You never heard about this place from your father?” asked PT.

“No, never,” said Fig, leaning past PT to switch the view to different angles of the space station. “I knew there were stations all along the border with the First Quadrant, but I thought they were put here as a defensive measure. I didn’t know they had testing facilities here. To be honest, I never really considered how the CA recruited their personnel. My father always treated them as an inefficient but necessary bureaucracy, full of bean counters and legal enforcers. Not worth placing in his eyes. I expected these installations to be heavily armed observation platforms, but I doubt they can see anything apart from the backs of their own heads with the way it’s built.”

“You know nothing,” said Ubik. “If your dad was here, I bet he’d agree with me that this is a marvel of engineering.”

“If my father was here,” said Fig, “he’d probably open your skull and put your brain in a jar so he could study it more easily.”

“Really? I thought he liked me.”

“He did,” said Fig. “He found you fascinating. He always puts things he finds fascinating in jars.”

“They’re sending me landing coordinates,” said PT, shaking his head. “Didn’t even ask for any identification or anything. Is this really the Central Authority?”

It was almost like the two of them wanted the CA to scan the ship and send in a team of Guardians to take them in.

If it was too hard, they complained about that, and if it was too easy, they complained about that. There was no pleasing some people. That was why it was always best to tell people nothing in advance and only the bare minimum when required.

The ship veered off as the ships around then did the same as their landing bays were assigned.

The space station had been designed with parking in mind. All the ships used to construct New Haven had open hangars and landing bays, ready to welcome visitors.

Ubik was playing it cool but his heart was actually beating wildly. He was nervous, excited, happy… the other two wouldn’t understand.

He was here at the heart of the CA’s biggest facility with all the resources the Antecessors had provided him with. He would be able to steal anything he wanted.

This wasn’t just a way to get into the First Quadrant, this was a shopping trip and the sales were about to start.

Hurry! 100% off! Everything must go!

“Can you give us an idea of what it is you want us to do?” asked Fig.

“Yeah,” said PT, as he brought them in to land on the hull of a converted warship from around two hundred years ago. “Just, you know, a rough sketch. Like who we’re supposed to be and how we’re going to get past the thousands of cameras all linked to the CA database. Broad strokes will be fine.”

“You don’t have to do anything,” said Ubik. “Exactly nothing. You can’t use your organics here because no one here has organics, that’s why they want to join the Central Authority.”

“Hold on,” said PT. “You want us to try to get into the CA when they don’t accept people with organics, and I’ve got six and he’s got two?” Their scruffy little mining freighter touched down between two very fancy-looking shuttles with pristine hulls. “I think I may have spotted a flaw in your plan.”

“It won’t be a problem as long as you don’t give us away by exposing yourself,” said Ubik. “I’ll take care of the application trials.”

“You plan to take all the tests by yourself?” asked Fig.

“I don’t have an organic and the CA is very technocentric, so it shouldn’t be too difficult.”

“Yes,” said PT, “but you never volunteer for anything. Are you sure you’re feeling alright?”

“I’m very well, thank you,” said Ubik. “I usually let you two handle things because you’ve both had sheltered upbringings and you need real-world experience more than I do. But now you’ve had a chance to fumble around a bit, it’s time for you to see a real master at work. Watch and learn, gentlemen.”

“Can we watch and learn from here?” asked PT.

“No,” said Ubik. “Now put these on.”

Ubik slid open a containment unit and took out three one-piece space suits of a very basic design. They were white with the Central Authority logo on the chest, under which was a barcode.

“We have to wear this?” said Fig, taking one of the suits and twisting it around.

“Yes, everyone wears the same thing here. We’re trying to fit in, remember. Low key. No ruffling of any feathers.”

PT grabbed one of the suits. “This from the feather-ruffler-in-chief. Unbelievable.”

As soon as they exited the ship through the rear doors, the noise washed over them. Voices, lots of excited voices.

There were several ships all along the jetty with people disembarking in large groups.

Most of the ships were sleek and modern, very unlike their freighter, and the people emerging from them had expensive outfits on. There were several groups with what appeared to be armed guards, and lots of women, which had not been the case on their last stop.

“Why are we the only ones wearing these lousy suits?” asked PT.

“Wait,” said Ubik.

A blue drone, about the size of a large suitcase, with three lights — red, green, red — on its front came hovering over and popped open its top. Three white suits rose out of it.

“These suits will be assigned to you,” said the drone in a disinterested voice. “Make sure you wear them at all times while you are guests of New Haven. They will provide all the information you will need and also access to the store for any purchases of authorised add-ons and assistance bundles. All messages and deliveries will be made to this location. Parking in this bay is free for the duration of your stay as long as you have the requisite application formalities filed on record. If you have any quest—”

Around them, similar drones were approaching the other arrivals and giving them their suits, which they took back into their ships to get changed into.

“Okay, thanks.” Ubik grabbed all three suits, which looked identical to the ones they were already wearing, and threw them unceremoniously through the open rear entrance of their ship.

“You must wear the suits at all—”

“We are wearing them,” said Ubik.

There was a pause and then a red light swept over them.

“Your serial numbers have been registered. Welcome to New Haven. Please follow me to the main reception hall for the first testing phase.”

The drone began to move off.

“Wait,” said Fig. “Can you give us some details about the first phase?”

The drone stopped. “All necessary information will be found in your suit’s control panel. If you have any other—”

The drone’s lights went out. Ubik was standing behind it holding a handful of wires. It really was poorly designed, even for a menial drone. Cheap and disposable.

“Hey, it was about to tell us something,” said PT, looking around nervously in case anyone was watching, but no one was.

“No, it wasn’t,” said Ubik, quickly throwing the wires into the ship and closing the back panel on the drone. “It was just going to give you some waffle about where to send questions and complaints. Standard stuff.”

“The suits are supposed to provide us with information,” said Fig. “But since these ones you gave us don’t have control panels, I’m guessing we aren’t plugged into the network.”

“I know, we can use the suits the drone gave us,” said PT.

“Nope,” said Ubik. “If you activate those suits, they’ll know we aren’t who we say we are. The suits you have on now are all you need. They’ll hide your identity but let you access everything here.”

“What was that about a store to buy bundles from?” said PT. “What bundles?”

“You can buy aids that will help with the trials,” said Ubik. He restarted the drone. Only two of the lights came on. Ubik banged it on one corner and the third light came on.

“Isn’t that cheating?” said Fig.

“Yes,” said Ubik. “You can pay to give yourself an advantage in the trials. The richer you are the more likely you are to pass.”

“How does having money make you a better candidate for the Guardian program?” said Fig.

“Is this place a giant scam to get money off rich idiots?” said PT.

“I think you may be right,” said Fig.

“Nope,” said Ubik. “This isn’t the static atmosphere of an enclosed tin can in space or the rarefied air of the Ollo kingdom, this is the real world where any advantage you can get is justified. Doesn’t matter how you get hold of it. Those of us without superpowers have to make things work in whatever way we can. Stop expecting things to be fair for everyone except you. How much more of an advantage do you want?”

“I feel like I’ve been told off,” said Fig.

“Me too,” said PT.

Ubik patted the drone on the head. “Okay, lead the way.”

“Follow me, dear,” said Grandma and the drone set off.