The Circuit: The Complete Saga

by Bruno, Rhett C.

  “Contact Mr. Morastus,” he said. He stepped into a nook near the shop’s entry hatch so that he’d be able to hear.

  “Yes, sir.”

  The guard switched on a holopad and handed it to him. A few moments later, a feed opened up, displaying the private quarters of Zargo Morastus, the most powerful man in the asteroid belt, though there were many rivals who didn’t want to admit that. He sat at a table with a three-dimensional map of the Circuit projected above it. His handsome young son, Zaimur, sat across from him, looking disinterested in whatever lecture was being given to him. He stroked the head of a small sleeping dog lying by his feet. An endangered beast from ancient Earth worth as much as every ship in the Buckle combined.

  “Talon, my friend!” Zargo exclaimed. “I hope you have good news.”

  Talon bit his lip. “I’ve had better, unfortunately.”

  Zargo’s eyes narrowed, a web of wrinkles forming around them. Apart from them, it was difficult to tell just how old he was. His hair might have been gray, but he appeared remarkably healthy for coming up on seventy years. He had the physique of a man half his age, and the mind to match it.

  “Out with it, then,” he said. “I think I’ve already got an idea.”

  “It looks like Mavik’s decided to get in bed with the Lakura. Sold Yara all of your parts for an extra bump and ran.”

  Zargo slammed his fist down on the table. Zaimur winced, and his animal companion jumped awake, its beady eyes searching for what had roused it after it barked once.

  “That ungrateful—! If there’s one thing I don’t tolerate, it’s disloyalty. Ask to leave with dignity and I’ll happily grant it, but this…”

  “Will you kill him, Dad?” Zaimur asked, with the tinny voice of a boy suffering puberty.

  Hearing the question knitted Zargo’s brow. “He will be punished accordingly, my son.”

  “Well, I think he deserves to be spaced publicly this time.”

  “Quiet!” Zargo boomed. “Keep your thoughts to yourself, boy, and let me handle this.”

  “Spacing him seems excessive, sir,” Talon said, “but a message needs to be sent. I’ve worked with him long enough though. I’ll be able to track him down and make him pay back every last credit.”

  Zargo took a moment to think, then shook his head. “Don’t waste your time. I’ll contact Yara and have her send him back.”

  “Why the hell would she do that?”

  “I have no interest in fighting her over a few spare parts. She can keep them in return for the traitor. One less dishonorable man by my side is a victory in itself.”

  “But, sir, Yara stole from you,” Talon said.

  “We steal from each other every day. At least she understands the importance of loyalty. She’ll happily rid herself of Mavik, and perhaps she’ll even do the right thing and return what he stole.”

  “Somehow, I doubt that.”

  Zargo cracked a grin. “So do I. But remember, Zaimur… Zaimur, are you listening?”

  “Yes, Dad,” he grumbled.

  “Take every opportunity to improve relations with your rivals. There’s no form of payment more lucrative than a favor.”

  “Wise words,” Talon agreed. “What do you want me to do with Mavik after she sends him back, then?”

  “My very young son has the right idea, but we don’t waste the threat of spacing on vermin. A bullet should do fine.”

  “Sir, he’s a good operative when he focuses. I’m sure we can come to another arrangement—”

  “He’s had enough chances.”

  Talon did his best to remain stoic. Zargo must have seen right through it, however, because his features darkened with concern.

  “You’ve worked with him for a long time, Talon,” Zargo said. “I can send someone else.”

  Talon and Mavik weren’t close, but they’d come up the same way, working for the Morastus clan since they were children orphaned by the war. They’d had to do whatever it took to put food in their bellies. As one of Zargo Morastus’ lead enforcers, Talon had risen as high as he could without going into management, which was far from his strong suit. Mavik would’ve been there as well if he didn’t have such a knack for gambling away his earnings.

  “That won’t be necessary, sir,” Talon said. “He made his choice.”

  Mavik wasn’t the first turncoat he’d dealt with, and he knew he wouldn’t be the last. It was in Ceresian nature to jockey for better deals. Sometimes, Talon felt like he was the only one happy in his post and with no desire to climb.

  “Send me with him, Dad,” Zaimur chimed in. “I’ll make sure he follows orders like a good boy.”

  “You’ll stay here and continue your studies,” Zargo snapped. “You have to understand how the Circuit works if you ever hope to run a portion of it. Talon will do as I order, just like he always does. And if you speak out of turn again, I’ll invite him here to teach you some respect.”

  Zaimur mumbled something under his breath, crossed his arms, and leaned back in his chair. A few seconds later he lifted his pet up onto his lap and stroked its back while it glared at Talon through the feed. It wasn’t the first time Talon had heard that threat directed at the only son of his boss and mentor. The more often he interacted with the boy, the more he thought a lesson in respect might be just what he needed.

  “I’ll take care of it,” Talon said firmly.

  “I know you will. I can always trust you.” Zargo sighed. “Now I just need to find someone to replace Mavik. He was a fine runner.”

  Talon smirked. “Or you could just pay me double to handle both our work.”

  Zargo allowed himself to crack a grin as well. “Trust me, I’ve considered it. Transmit the coordinates of somewhere discreet to complete this transaction, and take care of it.”

  * * *

  Hours later, Talon stood on his favorite promontory in the West 534 Housing District. The vibrant lights of the Dome, a haven for all things depraved, flickered in the distance, painting the rocky walls with a dozen different colors. A host of Morastus men accompanied him, all armed with pulse-rifles. He’d brought his along as well.

  The Lakura were well known for going back on deals, having a penchant for using improvised explosives. Talon had sharpshooters hidden around the rocks, keeping their eyes out for anything suspicious.

  Talon watched silently as a line of armed Lakura mercs marched down the carved-out pathway leading to the promontory. At their front, Mavik was being prodded along with a cloth sack over his head. He was stripped down to rags, looking much like he had when Zargo Morastus took him in. They stopped where the ground flattened out and forced him to his knees.

  “Mavik Tressum, as negotiated,” the lead Lakura enforcer said. He was a gaunt man, with a chin that came to a knifepoint, and his eyes had a twitch to them that Talon didn’t trust.

  Talon didn’t risk getting any closer. He held back his own men as well. “Remove the bag,” he called out.

  The Lakura enforcer didn’t move, instead glaring at Talon like he was itching to start a brawl. Talon didn’t budge, and eventually the enforcer conceded and tore the bag off Mavik’s head.

  “You can’t do this!” Mavik squealed. “Madam Lakura and I had a deal.”

  “Now we have another one,” the enforcer said. “Morastus scum.” He kicked Mavik in the back, then spit on him before turning around with his entourage to leave.

  Talon gave it a few more seconds before moving. He remained wary of his surroundings the entire way, and when he wasn’t blown to bits by the time he reached the traitor, he knew the Lakura Clan had kept its word. He wasn’t sure why he worried Zargo would ever allow himself to be duped.

  He grabbed Mavik by the back of the neck and lifted his head. His face was bruised; blood streamed out of his nostrils. “Talon… old friend…” Mavik stammered. “By Earth, I’m glad it’s you.”

  “You just couldn’t help yourself, could you?” Talon asked.

  “You wouldn’t have turned it down, eit
her. Yara offered just enough to screw the old man over and for me to get off this rock. Go buy a shop far from under his boot out on the Verge.”

  “And look where trusting a Lakura got you.”

  Mavik went to stand, but Talon drew a pulse-pistol and shoved it against his chest to keep him down.

  “Don’t you get tired of being his lackey?” Mavik asked.

  “I can’t complain,” Talon said.

  “You’re lying and you know it. It’s not too late to get out. We can start a new clan together on Pallus maybe, or Eureka. Tell ourselves what to do. I still have the credits in my account.”

  “You’ll be paying that back to Mr. Morastus.”

  Mavik scowled. “What, just because he put a gun in our hands when we had nowhere else to go, we owe him our lives?”

  “No, but we pledged them to him. Our word has to be worth something.”

  “You and your damned self-righteousness.” He exhaled slowly. “What now, you take everything I’ve got and work me until I’m bones?”

  Talon raised his pistol to Mavik’s forehead and held it there, steady.

  “Oh, c’mon, Talon,” Mavik said, eyes darting back and forth. “How long have we known each other? Don’t do this. Send me far away, but don’t do this.”

  It took all of Talon’s willpower to keep calm. Following orders wasn’t always easy, but Zargo lived by a strict code of honor, and it was one Talon was happy to uphold. Even when he knew deep down he wished there were another way.

  He looked to the high, craggy ceiling of his housing district’s cavern, dotted with giant noisy air recyclers. Then he took a deep breath and pulled the trigger.

  * * *

  Talon traversed a cluster of shacks constructed along the craggy wall of the cavern and made his way to the Dome. The bouncers posted outside let him in on sight. The Morastus Clan ran the place, and he lived in one of the subterranean suites beneath the club. A perk of his position.

  He headed there first, washed his hands, and changed into casual wear. Then he headed back upstairs to the club. It took a few minutes to shove his way through the congested dance floor to the bar.

  “The usual,” he said to the android bartender. It scanned his ID, and when it registered who he was, referred to him as “sir” and didn’t bother to charge him. It returned with a tall glass of bright green synthrol—the strongest in the place. He downed half of it in a single gulp.

  “Rough day?” a man next to him said as he sat down.

  Talon glanced over without lifting his sagging head. The dark-skinned man was a hunk of muscle, a boilersuit indicating that he was a Morastus miner.

  “I’ve had worse,” Talon replied.

  The man flashed a smile. “Haven’t we all. Tell you what, next one’s on me.”

  “Trust me, I don’t need it. But thanks. What’s your—”

  “Talon Rayne!” a woman yelled.

  Talon whipped around, hand falling to his concealed sidearm before he realized who she was. She was one of the club’s most desired dancers, though she wasn’t afraid to do whatever else it took to pay for her habits. Talon knew that personally. When she wasn’t strung out on some new synthetic drug, she was easily the most stunning woman on Ceres.

  “Vera,” Talon answered, “it’s been a while.”

  Talon’s new friend couldn’t help but stare at her as she stormed over. She made no effort to conceal her body, a skimpy leotard covering so little of her that she may as well have been naked. Talon caught himself staring as well, but her glower quickly earned his attention.

  “No thanks to you,” she bristled.

  “What are you talking about?” he said.

  “I’ve been looking everywhere for you.” She had a bundle of clothes in her hands, and she shoved them into Talon’s gut before he could do anything about it. There was an unexpected heft to them. “She’s yours. It’s your turn to deal with her.”

  Talon looked down at the bundle and noticed a tiny face peeking through. A swaddled infant who couldn’t have been more than a few weeks old lay inside.

  Words froze on Talon’s lips. He hadn’t seen Vera in some time and figured she’d just slipped into one of her drug-induced stupors. They’d shared nights together, sure, but the baby couldn’t be his. It couldn’t be.

  “Her name’s Elisha,” Vera said after Talon remained quiet and gawking for too long. “And you owe me for the months I couldn’t work.” She sauntered away, purposefully swaying her hips as far as possible with every step to earn the stares of every male patron at the bar.

  Talon turned his attention back down to the child, completely speechless. She was equally silent; her big inquisitive blue eyes stared back at him. Eyes he recognized from looking in the mirror. His eyes.

  * * *

  As Talon stared out the exit ramp of the Monarch into the hangar of the Morastus clan flagship many years later, that memory seemed like yesterday. He’d never expected her, but from the moment Elisha entered his life, it was changed.

  He soon requested to abdicate his former position with the Morastus, which Zargo had begrudgingly allowed. They rarely spoke again afterwards. Talon didn’t care. He’d had the chance to give Elisha the life he’d never had—until he lost her.

  “Talon?”

  Talon shook his head, returning his attention to the present. Yara Lakura and her soldiers stood at the bottom of the ramp. Her face was coated with blood and grime.

  “Sorry,” he said. “What was that?”

  “Are you sure you want to stay with them?” Yara asked, gesturing to Larana, the Vergent captain of the Monarch, standing at Talon’s side. “I have need for men like you in my ranks, willing to do whatever it takes.”

  Talon lifted his hand and rotated it, studying the radiant lines of the blue death tracing his veins. “As much as I’d love that, I don’t think I have much time left to be of use to you.”

  Yara’s solemn expression hadn’t shifted much since the battle of Eureka. Noticing his affliction barely affected her. “Time enough to do something else insane that kills more Tribunals.”

  “I have a feeling I’m out of any more moves like that.”

  “A shame.” She sighed. “You saved a lot of my people today. If you ever change your mind, come find me.”

  “Will do.”

  She extended her hand for Talon to shake. Then she nodded approvingly at Larana before turning to enter a hangar crammed with at least a thousand of her exhausted soldiers. There were too many wounded to count. She stopped before she disappeared into the crowd and glanced back as if she’d had a sudden epiphany.

  “Talon Rayne. You were one of Zargo’s boys back in the day, weren’t you?” she asked.

  Talon closed his eyes. One of his boys was an interesting way to put it. The man had been like a father. Or at least, what a kid without a real father anymore might think one would be like. It was a good life. Entertaining, exciting, even when it pushed him beyond where he wanted to go.

  But he’d trade it all in a heartbeat for Elisha. To be cured of the blue death only to have a few more days with her. He’d have grown up powerful in a deep Ceres gutter, hooked on drugs, hungry and thirsty every day. Because now that he had a true family, he knew. Zargo had been an employer, not a dad. Not like he was.

  “A long time ago,” Talon answered.

  Yara nodded, but there was something strange about the gesture. A distinct measure of pity, which was noticeably different than the grimness she’d been carrying with her since the battle. Before Talon could continue the conversation, she was gone.

  “That been one fine offer to decline,” Larana said. Then she moved closer to him and whispered, “That woman inside wasn’t undercover, was she?”

  Talon’s thoughts returned to Sage and the offer she’d made after escaping Eureka, to help rescue Elisha. Her words replayed in his head: that she was alive. That he still had a chance to make good on his promises.

  “No,” he admitted. “At least not for us.”<
br />
  “Who is she?”

  “I’ll tell you after I’m sure myself. For now, she needs to stay on your ship. Yara was too preoccupied to question her being here further, but if Zaimur Morastus sees her, it’ll be trouble.”

  Larana rolled her eyes. “What’s more trouble.”

  “I’m sorry. I swear I—”

  Larana placed a consoling hand on his arm. “It’s fine. She can stay for now. You trust her?”

  “No.” Talon thought back to that moment when Elisha was first placed in his arms, that moment when everything changed. He’d do anything, even work with the traitor who destroyed his life. “But I might need her.”

  2

  Chapter Two—Cassius

  Cassius watched through a viewport in Zaimur Morastus’ private hangar as dozens of transport ships flooded onto the Hound’s Paw. It wasn’t all of them, but most had made it back in fairly good shape as they fled the battle of Eureka at full burn.

  “Creator, the Ascendant has reversed course and is returning to Eureka.” ADIM’s voice came through the comm-link in his ear. “The entirety of its accompanying fleet is doing the same.”

  Cassius released a sigh of relief upon hearing ADIM’s voice. After using the White Hand’s rail gun to break open the docks of the asteroid, ADIM had been tasked with keeping the Ascendant occupied so that it couldn’t focus entirely on the transports. There was no ship in the Circuit faster than his, but Cassius still worried. It was the first time he’d left it completely in ADIM’s hands without being there.

  “As expected,” Cassius replied. “Just wait until Benjar realizes how useless the asteroid is now. Excellent work, ADIM. Did the White Hand suffer any damage?”