The Circuit: The Complete Saga

by Bruno, Rhett C.

  “Where’d you get that idea?” Cassius probably sounded angrier than he intended to.

  “From you, Creator. ‘She’s not as fast as she used to be after all these years… I’ll have to clean out her memory banks sometime and see if I can improve performance,’” ADIM quoted, imitating Cassius’ voice. “There were many other updates necessary to ensure the White Hand remained worthy of the creator’s will. Shall this unit list them all for you?”

  So that was what he meant earlier? Cassius thought. A complete merging.

  He’d grown used to hearing Gaia’s voice whenever he entered his ship. The virtual intelligence wasn’t ADIM, but she was a building block, her very programming inlaid into what eventually became ADIM. A project that stole years of his life, sleepless nights coding until he couldn’t see straight.

  In an instant, ADIM had removed her from existence. Cassius’ earliest, silent betrayal of the Tribune. Gone. Just another file in ADIM’s always-developing artificial brain.

  Still, the White Hand had already been one of the most advanced ships in the Circuit. That meant ADIM’s improvements had surpassed what even Cassius was capable of. His pride far outweighed his sorrow.

  “Are you dissatisfied, Creator?” ADIM asked. “This unit can assure you that the White Hand is now performing at its full potential. And do not be concerned, Gaia’s memory logs have been completely transferred into the ship’s backups with no loss.”

  “Dissatisfied?” Cassius said. “No. Never. You’ve done an incredible thing, ADIM. It’ll just be something else I’ll have to get used to.”

  Cassius stared up into the dark cargo bay of the White Hand. At the same time ADIM was sneaking Sage up to him, he was apparently operating the ship. Cassius wondered if that meant ADIM was only in control of what the ship did, or if he had truly become a part of it—if he had evolved beyond the metal shell of the physical body to become something more.

  The human body is little more than a vessel for our mind, Cassius thought. Could ADIM understand that? Again, his creation astounded him. And as he stepped up the ramp into his ship, it dawned on him that ADIM was no longer just in his ear, but all around him.

  Footsteps behind him startled Cassius. As expected, Sage approached. She wore bloodstained Tribunal armor and had her fiery hair trimmed even shorter than their last encounter. An armed Morastus guard walked next to her, ADIM wearing his holographic camouflage.

  What Cassius didn’t expect to see, however, were two men accompanying them, gawking in Cassius’ direction like they were looking upon a ghost. Or a legend. Cassius had spent so long out of the spotlight, tucked away on Titan and Ennomos, sometimes he struggled to identify which.

  One of the strangers was a bearded Vergent wearing an exoskeletal suit that Cassius recognized from a few of the corpses he’d stepped over on the Amerigo. The other man was a Ceresian Cassius swore he’d seen before. Both suffered from the blue death, though it was far more apparent in the Vergent.

  “You brought others with you?” Cassius narrowed his eyes.

  “You can trust them, Cassius.” Sage stepped out in front of the rest. “They won’t tell anyone you’re here as long as you hear us out.”

  “I’m putting my trust in you, then, Sage. I hope it’s not misplaced.”

  He extended his arms to embrace her. She didn’t seem too eager to do the same, but after an uncomfortable few moments, she wrapped her arms around him. It was reserved. Timid. But it would pass for a hug.

  “I like what you’ve done with your hair,” he whispered into Sage’s ear. That was honest. Tribune high fashion loved long hair. Many didn’t cut it often, or at all, because Earth had made people the way they were meant to be.

  Sage reached to her head as if she’d forgotten about it, running her fingers over her hair.

  Cassius gazed over her shoulder at the rest of her companions. “By the Ancients, I’ve never seen a more peculiar group in my entire life,” he remarked. “A Ceresian, a Tribunal, a Vergent… and an android.”

  The Morastus guard’s body began to flicker; then it vanished completely, revealing ADIM’s dark metal chassis, which had been shrouded by the hologram. His glowing red eyes pierced the dimness of the hangar.

  Horror riddled the expressions of the Ceresian and the Vergent. It wasn’t the reaction Cassius had expected. Ceresians were no strangers to androids, and Vergents often traded them or scrapped them for parts. All Cassius thought he’d see on their faces was surprise. It was then that he realized who they were.

  The Ceresian was Talon Rayne, the man he’d seen through Sage’s executor implant and with whom she’d raided the Tribunal freighter. Apparently, he had been aboard the Amerigo when Cassius’ androids struck.

  Talon and the Vergent were the two who’d escaped. They had looked into the red eyes of one of Cassius’ creations before, felt the fear instilled by something more powerful than any man could ever hope to be. Only, those eyes hadn’t belonged to ADIM.

  The two of them lifted their rifles and took a few frightened steps back.

  “You have one of those things here?” the Vergent asked. Raising his voice caused him to slip into a coughing fit.

  ADIM effortlessly disarmed them both, shoving them back a pace. He then turned to Cassius, presenting the pulse-rifles as if he was waiting for instructions. Talon looked ready to charge.

  “Relax,” Cassius said. “He won’t harm anyone in this room so long as you keep your guns stowed. Isn’t that right, ADIM?”

  “Yes, Creator,” ADIM answered in his always steely tone.

  The assurance didn’t appear to put Talon, the Vergent, or even ADIM himself any more at ease. The android snapped both of the weapons in half before positioning himself between Cassius and Sage, his spinning eyes fixated on her. She couldn’t relinquish her weapon, her arm, as ADIM knew from experience.

  “How are you still alive?” Talon questioned. “I watched you die.”

  “You witnessed an illusion directed by Zaimur Morastus, ADIM and myself,” Cassius clarified. “Nothing more.”

  “Why the hell is Zaimur working with you? That seems below even him.”

  “We’re in the business of winning this war, that’s why. With his father finally passing away, he and Yara Lakura are leading this war. I have pledged my support to eradicate the Tribunal plague I foolishly helped create. My death was a necessary deception to maintain order.”

  “Zargo is dead?” A shade of sorrow passed across Talon’s face, replaced quickly with what looked to be relief.

  Interesting, Cassius thought. So he knew the former Morastus leader well enough to feel some happiness that he’s finally done suffering. There’s more to this miner than I imagined.

  “Unfortunately, the blue death finally took its toll on him,” Cassius said. “Despite what anyone may believe, I had a great deal of respect for the man, and there are very few who earn that. Zaimur is proving to be his son, however. He had the foresight to recognize the wisdom in my advice despite our history, and if you were stuck on Eureka with the others, then you owe us your lives… or what little is left of them.”

  “Owe you our lives?” the Vergent spat.

  He stormed forward, his strange suit creaking loudly with every step. ADIM promptly leapt in front of him. He aimed one of his arms at the Vergent and kept the other trained on Sage. The pulse-rifles designed into each of them would blow their heads open.

  Cassius placed his hand on ADIM’s shoulder. The android’s eyes spun wildly. His circuitry ran hot.

  “That’s enough, ADIM,” Cassius said. “I’m sure he meant no offence.”

  ADIM lowered his arm, though he was now positioned firmly between Cassius and all the others.

  “After what you did to my brother and sister Keepers on the Amerigo, how dare you lay claim on our lives!” the Vergent barked. “They gave theirs to serve the Circuit!”

  “And they died fulfilling their duties,” Cassius said. “An honorable end, and a necessary sacrifice. The
Tribune couldn’t be allowed to buy their loyalty, and they wouldn’t forsake their vows. The solar-arks exist to distribute supplies throughout the Circuit, ignoring creed and class. I merely ensured that would continue so that we have a fighting chance in both this war and what comes after. Don’t forget, Vergent, that if the Tribune is allowed to succeed here, they will swallow your people next.”

  “That doesn’t give you—”

  “Enough!” Sage said, cutting their argument off. “We’ll have time for bickering later. Far greater powers than us will decide Cassius’ fate, but for now we came here to ask for his help.”

  “So you did…” Cassius stared into Sage’s beautiful green eyes. They’d regained their luster since he removed the executor implant—that spark that he’d noticed all those years ago when Caleb asked for her hand in matrimony. She might not have realized it yet, but slowly and surely, she was beginning to be freed, the curtains of her personality being pulled back.

  Reversion from becoming a killing machine was never easy. He regretted the day, whenever it came, when she’d remember all the horrors she’d done. When her whole body would shake with rage and shame. It took Cassius some time after losing his implant.

  Sage took a deep breath. “Cassius, we want to infiltrate the Ascendant and extract a prisoner.”

  Cassius had to suppress a laugh in order to not offend her. “Raid a New Earth cruiser?” he asked, incredulous. “This prisoner had better be the key to winning this war.”

  “She’s a child, Talon’s child, and she’s being kept there to bait me. She was hidden on the ship you sent me to Titan on. A refugee from Kalliope.”

  “Wait, she was there? Are there more survivors?” Talon asked excitedly, suddenly snapping back into focus.

  Refugees? Cassius wondered, until he observed ADIM’s processors whirring. By some chance, Talon’s child must have been the gift-child ADIM had brought back from Kalliope for him. She’d been with Sage the entire journey to Titan, and still Sage wasn’t any wiser about what had really happened on Kalliope.

  Again, Cassius found himself surprised. ADIM had been wise enough to plant their intended lie, blaming the events on the Tribune in the young girl’s mind before she escaped. It worked. There was no telling how much ADIM’s ill-advised gift could now benefit them. Nobody would suspect Cassius of being behind what had happened to Kalliope if he himself had ordered ADIM to rescue a survivor.

  “No,” Cassius said. “We were too late. According to ADIM, nobody else made it.” He shot a glance toward ADIM, hoping that after so many years together, that would be enough for the android to know what he wanted.

  ADIM’s eyes began to slow. “This unit found her in the cockpit of a mining mech and did not have time to salvage anything larger than a human child before the detonation.”

  “Mining mech… Was she alone?” Talon asked, pushing forward. ADIM stood at attention, ensuring the Ceresian couldn’t pass by.

  “The mech’s operator was deceased,” ADIM stated.

  “What did he look like?”

  The Ceresian was no longer fazed in the slightest by fear of the android. He grabbed ADIM’s arm and shook it, as if trying to will the answer he wanted out of him.

  “His skin had dark pigmentation. He weighed approximately one hundred and five kilograms.”

  Talon’s head sank and his features dimmed even more than they had when he learned of Zargo’s fate. He looked beaten. The Vergent placed a comforting hand on his shoulder. It didn’t appear to help.

  “So he is gone…” Talon whispered to himself.

  The uncomfortable silence that followed made Cassius’ neck itch. This wasn’t the time to worry about what’d been lost. Every second’s delay was another movement made by the Tribune’s vast fleet. More complications and complexities to strategy. Shifts in probability that only ADIM could understand.

  Cassius gave it as long as he could manage, then asked, “Why would they have any need to bait you, Sage?”

  “Because they think I know what you’re up to,” she replied, making no effort to mask her disdain. “They think I was working with you when you murdered all those innocent people on Titan.”

  “That I murdered?” Cassius was appalled. “What happened on Titan was as much their fault as it was mine.”

  “It’s always their fault, isn’t it?” She bit her lip, then groaned. “It doesn’t matter anyway. I’ve joined you in exile all the same, just like you always wanted.”

  He extended a hand for her around ADIM. “Sage, my dear, I never wanted—”

  She pulled back. “Stop. I don’t want to hear it. Everything I was is gone, and I won’t blame it on you because I was the one foolish enough to trust you. I should’ve realized I couldn’t mend the hatred that burns so brightly inside you. So enough lies and pretending that you’re my father. I’m offering you a chance to use me in a strike against His Eminence Benjar Vakari’s flagship.”

  “You would attack your former master?”

  “I would save a girl who has no part in this war,” she retorted. “I’ll infiltrate the Ascendant and I’ll cripple the vessel if that is what you want, but I will not kill anyone who doesn’t need to die in order to get her out. You didn’t want me to be a killer, after all, so those are my terms. If you want Benjar dead, you’ll have to do it yourself. I serve only the Spirit now.”

  There she is, Cassius thought. Despite the harshness of her words, he couldn’t help but feel a tinge of pride. She still referred to Benjar by his full honorific title, but this was progress. He could work with that.

  “It’ll take more than you to penetrate the defenses of a New Earth cruiser,” he said. “But I suppose that’s why you came to me.”

  Sage diverted her attention to ADIM and held her rancorous gaze there.

  “I see,” Cassius said, scratching his cheek. “Well, you’re wrong about one thing. I don’t want Benjar dead just yet, but the idea of hampering his ship is very appealing. I’m sure you remember when he shot mine down in an attempt on my life.”

  “Who could forget?”

  “Crippling the Ascendant would give the Ceresians more time to scrape a real fleet together.”

  And give my androids more time to finish construction on the bombs. I’ll just need to think of a better reason to convince Zaimur to support this besides earning time.

  “But the ship is filled with Tribunals,” Cassius went on out loud. “This isn’t like raiding a solar-ark. You’ll need a small army.”

  Talon wiped his wet eyes and took a hard step forward. “You’ll have me,” he proclaimed weakly. “I was an enforcer for Zargo Morastus for years. But I swear, if you’re lying about Elisha, I’ll make sure the next time someone puts a bullet in your head, it sticks.”

  “You’ve got me, too,” the bearded Vergent said. He looked to Talon and shrugged. “I’ve come this far already. What’s one more mission, even if it’s with a monster, right?”

  This time, as Cassius observed the peculiar group in its entirety, he couldn’t hold back his snicker. “I admire your bravery almost as much as I loathe foolishness,” he said. “You won’t have the element of surprise after Eureka. Benjar will be expecting you brash Ceresians to be consistent and, well, act brashly. Zaimur and I planned on doing just the opposite.”

  “I might be able to convince Zaimur to send troops in with us if taking down a New Earth cruiser is on the table,” Talon said. “If he really is anything like his father. Or even Yara Lakura. She seemed eager to have me on her side after I knocked out the gravitum generator.”

  Cassius’ brow lifted. “That was you? Impressive. I would’ve done the same.”

  As he spoke, Cassius noticed Sage staring at Talon. When he caught her, she blushed and looked toward the floor. Her gaze lingered there for a few seconds until it lifted and locked with Cassius’.

  His chest got tight. He’d seen that hopeful expression before. No matter what Sage thought of him, he’d known the woman standing before him since she
was as tall as his hip. He was as close to her father as anyone ever was. He almost was her father by law. Sage Volus was always meant to be a part of the Circuit he planned to build.

  “I don’t want the clans involved personally,” Cassius said. “We have a strategy to win this war, and I intend to stick with it, or I’ll risk losing Zaimur’s trust. However, in this case, I’ll happily show Benjar that even in his beloved ship he isn’t safe from me. I offer you the service of the White Hand and ADIM. He will help you rescue your daughter, and you will help him ravage the systems of the Ascendant.”

  Both Sage’s and Talon’s faces lit up like bulbs. The Vergent wasn’t nearly as enthused.

  “What about the ‘small army’ we’d need?” Tarsis posed before anyone could answer.

  That was the one thing Cassius didn’t have an answer for yet. He knew stray Morastus followers could easily be acquired if he wanted them, but he couldn’t risk Zaimur getting a taste of success with bold, offensive strokes. Then he might forsake the plan Cassius had concocted, and lose the war in a hurry.

  There were also his six other androids back on Ennomos. Together with ADIM, they would likely be enough to slaughter every Tribunal on the ship. There was still work to be done, however, and wasting their time would ruin everything. He only had until the Ceresians lost the war to change the Circuit forever. The options were limited.

  “It may take some time, but Talon will have to scrounge up another mercenary crew from the depths of Ceres,” Cassius said. “Miners, beggars, I don’t care as long as they’re suicidal. We just need bodies to distract the Tribunals from Sage and ADIM.”

  “That is not necessary,” ADIM said.

  “Excuse me, ADIM?” Cassius asked.

  “Creator, if all you require are bodies to be used as a distraction, this unit can assemble a larger force far more quickly. By this unit’s calculations, there are approximately four thousand androids left on Ceres Prime in operable condition. A portion of those would serve as a much more efficient army under this unit’s command.”