“Yet, this unit is not alive as the Creator is.”
Cassius stood with his mouth hanging half-open. ADIM wasn’t used to him being left without words. He immediately began thinking back through their conversation to analyze if he’d said anything wrong.
“You don’t need to consider such things,” Cassius responded warmly. “We are all alive in our own way. Yours may differ from mine, but there is no denying your strength. Your vigor. It doesn’t matter to me what you are, ADIM, so long as you are by my side.”
“Please do not doubt this unit’s reliability.” ADIM stepped forward, as if to help express apprehension, which neither his face nor impassive voice could convey to a human.
“Never.” Cassius grabbed ADIM by the arms and shook them with conviction. “I just meant that this universe is a vast, endless place. Don’t trouble yourself with the mysteries nobody can answer. When this is all over with, we’ll seek them out for ourselves.”
“Perhaps there are other units like this one?” The tiny lights around ADIM’s red eyes began to spin faster as he contemplated, running countless probability scenarios through his processor.
“Even if somewhere in the Circuit there are some that look the same as you do, there are none like you,” Cassius admired. “You are unique, ADIM.”
ADIM stepped back, satisfied with the response.
Cassius slid his hand to the android’s back and began guiding him back toward the lift. “Now, let us go get the others before I finish our work on the gravitum bomb.”
“Alone? Do you no longer require this unit’s assistance?” ADIM asked as they stepped onto the lift.
“I long for it. But at this stage, I can finish from a safe distance. And my suit will keep me safe from any chance of exposure. Instead, there is one last task I need your help with before we can return home to Titan together.” The lift stopped and they moved out into the hangar, where Cassius pointed left to a sub-hangar where a smaller black and red ship sat. “You must take the Shadow Chariot to Earth and acquire the complete plans for one of the Ancients’ plasmatic drills for me. Only after testing Titan’s core will I resolve to use that bomb.”
ADIM said nothing at first. His expressionless face could offer no indication of how he felt, but it didn’t matter. Though he might have valued the moments he shared with Cassius over all other things, in the end, his existence was measured by a single directive.
“This unit is pleased to execute the Creator’s will.”
8
Chapter Eight—Sage
Sage Volus’ eyes blinked. She squinted from side to side, her vision foggy. A sharp line of pain shot down the right side of her torso as she rolled to her back, but it was nothing compared to how much her head throbbed.
It wasn’t unusual for her to wake with a slight headache. That was one of the minor side effects from the cybernetic implant latched onto her brain stem. Every executor received one upon making their vows, and it served to improve her reflexes, senses, hand-eye coordination, and other attributes useful in battle, such as dulling pain. This time it was different though, as if a ten-ton vise were squeezing her frontal lobe.
It took a few minutes for her to acclimate to the bright white room, but once she did, she recognized it as the private medical wing of the New Terrene Arbiter’s Enclave. A holoscreen on the wall monitored her heartbeat. Alongside it was a projection of her body that displayed a live display of all her biological functions. In it, her right arm was missing.
She nervously glanced down, then quickly peeled a blanket back to reveal her pale, denuded body covered with electrodes. She breathed a sigh of relief when she saw that her artificial arm remained in place. With her other hand, she traced the bumps of a new scar running over her right shoulder at the connection joint.
Her artificial fingers wriggled in the same manner that they used to when she willed them to, only presently she could no longer feel the slight tingle at the nerve endings of her amputated limb. Whatever had happened to her had left her even number than before.
“You’re finally awake!” Tribune Benjar Vakari said enthusiastically, entering through a sliding door and locking it behind him.
He wasn’t very impressive in stature, but his deep green tunic gave him a regal appearance. The emblem of the Tribune was stitched over his chest in gold, and a cloak draped over his left arm in a lighter shade of green. Countless facelifts and a heavy coat of makeup made him appear young from far away, but the skin around the back of his neck was creased by wrinkles.
“Your Eminence!” Sage yanked the blanket up to her neck to cover her breasts. Then she scrambled to reach the edge of the bed so that she could perform a proper greeting.
Tribune Vakari held out his hand to stop her. “Please remain seated.”
Not sure what to do, Sage clasped her hands together and bowed her head as low as she could manage before it pained her. “What in the name of the Ancients is going on?”
“You don’t remember?”
She furrowed her brow and fought her aching head as she tried to concentrate. Images of blood and flame flashed through her memory. She recalled falling and then blackness, but nothing more.
“Did I stop the bomber?” she asked.
“You left him dead after you discovered the bomb on his person. Soldiers attempted to stop you in the upper city, but…” He paused and analyzed her face. Apparently satisfied with what he saw, he continued, “I was fortunate enough to have been there in time to restrain them, allowing you to trigger the explosive beyond the city’s enclosure. There was some superficial damage to the western vertical farms, and we’ll lose a few crops, but nothing we can’t deal with. What are a few plants compared to the thousands you saved?”
Benjar sat at the end of the bed and stretched his hand over her thigh. “A shame that loathsome Ceresian met his end so quickly. It would have been beneficial to have captured him alive, but I never doubt the will of the Spirit.”
As he talked, Sage couldn’t help but notice the fresh scars along her shoulder where her artificial arm connected.
“That arm saved your life,” Benjar said. “Most of the remaining tendons and muscles around your shoulder had to be repaired, but the surgeons took good care of you. It should be fully operational again.”
Sage sat up, the sudden motion making her woozy. “How long have I been out?”
“You suffered a concussion and your implant was slightly impaired. You’ve been under close surveillance for four days.”
“That explains the headache.” Sage groaned and reached behind her head to feel the faint scar from her executor implant beneath her hair. It hadn’t been reopened.
“No surgery was necessary. We only had to reboot it from the outside. Give it a spark. Once it kicks back in, your tolerance for pain will return.” Benjar shuffled along the bed until he was positioned by her head.
“I hope that’s soon.” She squeezed her eyelids to try to combat the soreness. “Thank you for helping with the soldiers.”
“We are lucky I was nearby. I thought I might lose you.”
His lips came down to press delicately against her cheek and hold there. She didn’t fight it, even as a second kiss moved to her lips. She never did, despite the way it made her stomach turn. Goosebumps rose along her skin as his hand passed gently through her hair. She let her sight drift toward the light above her bed, receding into her thoughts as she always did, not kissing back.
I am a knight in the darkness, a vessel of their wisdom. She reminded herself of the vows of an executor to keep calm. I am the silent hand of the Tribune. I will not lose faith amongst the faithless. We are in eternal service to the Spirit of the Earth, which binds us. With the Tribune as our guide, we will prove worthy of the home that breathed its life into us, life that we so selfishly brought to ruin. Extinguished will be the flames we have kindled. Light shall be the shadow we have bidden. The Earth will rise again.
She repeated those phrases in her head as he began to slid
e her toward the edge of the mattress. Her shoulder got caught in the sheet, and the pain was enough to make her moan. He leaned the entirety of his weight onto her naked body, his elbow pressing against her ribs. She winced as he placed more fervent kisses down her neck.
“I can’t,” she wheezed. She scrambled further up onto the bed and pulled the blanket up over her. “I can’t.”
“Yes… I… sorry, my dear.” Benjar pulled away, panting. It took him almost a full minute to gather his breath. His cheeks were flushed, and his lips were twisted into a scowl. “Even the mighty Sage Volus is not invincible.” He sighed. “On to business, then.” He turned his back to her and began to observe her medical data.
She continued staring blankly until the light above her grew blurry. It didn’t help the headache, but it was how she got through. It was her duty to serve her Tribune however he needed. She could pretend she was sailing through space toward a distant star, or that she was standing on ancient Earth with the sun shining down through a blue sky.
“There is no doubt that the bomber was the scum of Ceres,” Benjar said as he straightened his tunic.
Sage looked up at him, but when she opened her mouth to respond, she was immediately cut off.
“And you mutilated him before public eyes!” he snapped. His cape was tossed violently around his shoulder as he whipped around, the gust blowing back Sage’s hair. “What happened to secrecy? You are meant to operate in the shadows, not confront a cohort of my men on the streets! Thank the Ancients I was there; otherwise half the hub would be in shambles.”
“I…” she began before choosing to look away. Fragments of what had happened flashed through her mind. “There was a bomb in his arm.”
“And you decide to saw it off in plain sight.” Benjar raised the back of his hand to strike her, then froze. His lips pursed. “Damned fanatics. Well, it doesn’t matter anymore. The crisis was averted, but you can’t remain here.”
“What?” she asked, hoping she’d heard him incorrectly.
“The entire city now knows about you! How many fire-haired women like you do you think are running around New Terrene with pistols in their hands?” He sat down beside her again and ran the back of his fingers over her sweating forehead. Then he shifted his tone to be more soothing as he continued, “You can’t very well function efficiently under these conditions.”
“But where would I go?” She felt tears coming. She assumed the damage to her implant caused it to happen, because she couldn’t remember the last time she’d cried.
“On another assignment, while things here settle down.” He wiped her eyes with the end of his tunic. “You’re one of the finest executors we have. It breaks my heart, but we have no choice. You will traverse the Circuit to Ceres Prime. There, you will pose as a dissident refugee from New Terrene in order to infiltrate the ranks of the Ceresians. I want you to find out the truth behind the recent attacks on our freighters. There is a war coming, my dear, and I would not have us at a disadvantage.”
Ceres, she thought without responding. A lawless, fully enclosed world where even the hopeful glimmer of the sun didn’t shine through. Like lower New Terrene only infinitely larger, darker, and filled with the worst kind of people the Circuit had to offer.
“Can you do this for me, Sage Volus?” Benjar’s fingers slithered through the tangled strands of her hair as he gently cradled her head. “Can you do this for all of the Tribune?”
Sage closed her eyes. She didn’t want to leave again. New Terrene had been her home since she was a child, and she’d grown used to being able to see the sun through the city’s enclosure. But she knew where her loyalties lay. “I will do what I must, Your Eminence,” she said. “We serve the same Spirit.”
“Excellent! And may it guide you always.”
Benjar leaned over, placing one more soulful kiss half on her cheek and half on her lips. She fought back more of her abnormal tears as he quickly turned to leave the room without another word. Without even a second glance.
9
Chapter Nine—Adim
ADIM’s body filled the narrow cockpit of the Shadow Chariot—a fighter-class ship designed to house little more than him. A ridge on top contained its engine core, which powered the notched ion drives protruding off the tail. Most of the chassis was as black as space itself, with illuminated slivers of red slicing down the length of its wings and converging at the tip of the tapered bow.
It was the Creator’s earliest gift to ADIM, bearing stealth capabilities that were even more advanced than the White Hand.
The ship passed over Luna, Earth’s lonely moon, completely invisible to its scanners. White lights shone from a complex on its craterous surface, one of four citadels throughout the Circuit and the seat of Tribune Cordo Yashan. Floating above it was a station comprised of a series of massive rings with four equally spaced inhabitable decks running along their edges like horizontal skyscrapers. It was one of the conduit stations left behind by the Ancients before the Earth fell hundreds of years earlier.
From what ADIM had learned, the factions of humans living throughout the Circuit each had their own beliefs about why the Earth died. For instance, the Tribune claimed it was the result of the sins of humankind, and that when they redeemed themselves, the Earth would miraculously heal.
According to Cassius, before the fall, a group of Ancient researchers had discovered gravitum within the mantle of the Earth. This new element could be used to generate substantial fields of artificial gravity when charged with specific electrical currents.
The Ancients began tearing at the surface of the planet, harvesting as much as they could find as quickly as possible. There was no need to find other livable worlds if they could build their own designed to simulate the conditions of Earth. They constructed the first conduit station above Luna in order to test the element in vacuum conditions.
But they went too far. Earth couldn’t handle the abuse, and billions were killed when it rejected life, spitting up molten rocks as its tectonic plates split.
With the world literally crumbling, the foolish men who dreamed of the stars were the last hope for humanity. Using the scattered conduit stations, they completed a series of solar-powered arks as a hopeful effort to transport the remnants of humanity to a new, habitable world if they could find one. They never made it that far. Instead, each ship was sent out, crammed with survivors and the materials needed to quickly construct more conduit stations around the solar system, using gravitum so their inhabitants would easier adapt to their new environments.
Six of them were placed above the major colonies, from Luna to Uranus, successfully delivering mankind from the depths of the second Dark Age. The solar-arks were set in continuous motion between them, equally distributing the resources each settlement offered—water, food, gases, minerals, and gravitum. The Circuit was born, reliant on the Earth, which had spurned humanity as if they were no more than insects.
Presently, the Conduit hovering above the moon, which had once saved humanity from extinction, served as little more than a trading hub. Dozens of transports flocked to and from the construction, and every so often, one of the massive solar-arks would race through its rings at a small fraction of light speed. They never slowed down. A complex system of gravity generators, magnets and moving parts would convey the cargo inside the vessels to and from the arks in seconds.
This was not where ADIM was headed, however. He zipped by, his vessel too small to be noticed even with so many Tribunal ships nearby. He’d registered as no more than a harmless rock bound to burn up in Earth’s atmosphere. And that was exactly where he was headed.
Cassius had told him of the green pastures and blue skies Earth once boasted. What ADIM saw as he rounded Luna, however, was a desolate wasteland. The planet was trapped in a volcanic winter. The oceans were black as death, and beneath the brown smog of its atmosphere, ADIM could see only the incandescent red of molten rock carving furrows across the forlorn landscape.
Earth’s
air festered with radiation and poisonous fumes, unlivable without wearing protective suits. Even when wearing one, visitors chanced the volatile nature of the surface. The planet’s plates were in a constant state of flux due to the Ancients’ excessive mining, resulting in violent earthquakes and unpredictable volcanic activity.
Humans were always dejected when they saw the planet, but like his Creator, ADIM didn’t believe that Earth could be restored. All he contemplated on approach was when it might be appropriate to update Cassius. He’d been sent to recover schematics for the plasmatic drills used in digging gravitum mines. The Tribune was in control of all of them, but there were few who knew exactly how they worked.
“Creator, this unit is just outside Earth’s orbit.” ADIM decided to communicate to Cassius when he was only a couple of thousand miles away. A few minutes passed without him receiving a response. He slowed down. His creator was rarely late.
“Sorry for the delay, ADIM. I was busy in the lab.” The familiar sound of his Creator’s voice eased his concerns. “Try to be discreet with this. I would rather the Tribune know nothing about this little endeavor.”
“What if this unit is left with no other choice?”
“I leave it to your discretion. If lives must be taken, dispose of them swiftly. They’ll chalk it up to the vengeful nature of Earth. Be careful of that yourself… I’ve lost too many sons to that wasteland already.”
ADIM paused. Just as he was about to respond, the bow of his ship plunged into Earth’s atmosphere. The signal grew muffled as a loud clap rang out and the Shadow Chariot was wreathed in flame.
“Creator, are you there?” he asked.
Cassius’ reply came through, drowned in static. “I… I’m losing you… I’ll see… ADIM… Good luck.”
The silence returned, just as jarring as ever. ADIM would’ve turned around to finish the conversation, but he couldn’t. It was rare when his cognition was distracted, but as he plummeted through the stratosphere, it took him a few moments to regain control of the ship.
The Circuit: The Complete Saga Page 7