From all ADIM had witnessed, unworthy humans were stubborn. Even when outmatched, they fought back rather than adapt. He had seen it with the crews of the Tribunal freighters he stole, and he was seeing it in every Ceresian who took up a gun to fight the vastly more powerful Tribune rather than bend a knee.
“That is incorrect, Creator,” ADIM said. “The Circuit is reliant on the presence of Earth as it is currently composed. Without it, the Circuit, as it has existed for centuries, would cease to be.”
Cassius released him. His eyebrows lifted. “Physically, yes, you’re right. When I speak of the Circuit, however, I’m merely referring to how we live now after Earth’s fall. Nothing can bring our homeworld back, but until it’s gone for good, our species will cling to it to the detriment of all. Call it instinct, or familiarity. The Circuit I desire is vast and ever expanding, not constricted. That is the future. Our future.”
“Then we must eliminate those who would stunt human evolution,” ADIM corrected himself.
“We can start there.”
Cassius grinned and approached the command deck’s expansive viewport. Millions of stars shone through it, like shards of silver sprinkled on a stretched sheet of black velvet. ADIM could tell him the designation of each one if he desired. How many light-years away they were. How far along in their stellar life cycle they were. Countless possibilities for harboring future generations of humanity once mankind moved on from Earth.
“‘Earth fell to give us the stars, not stay put and pray for its return,’” ADIM said out loud, reciting the words from his creator when astronomical charts had first been uploaded to his memory core.
“Exactly,” Cassius said, spreading his hands across the glass. “The Tribune must see their faith shattered. The Ceresian clans must realize that the wealth of the asteroid belt pales in comparison with the universe. Together, ADIM, we will show all of them the way.”
“Yes, Creator.” ADIM joined Cassius at the viewport. He too stared through it, locating all the stars with the highest potential of being orbited by planets able to foster life. New Earths, as Cassius might call them.
Then he noticed something out of the ordinary. He lifted his arm to point at one of the brighter lights in space.
“That is the Ascendant, not a star,” he said.
“It is time, then.” Cassius turned and walked briskly toward the command deck’s exit. ADIM followed close behind.
“We will be within desired range of the Ascendant in fifty-seven seconds.”
“Slow our approach,” Cassius said. “Signal the Monarch to do the same.”
ADIM quickly located the synced android that stood closest to Sage aboard the Monarch. He trusted her least, but Cassius was right that she was likely the only one strong enough to survive the battle, which meant she also had the highest probability to help during it.
“Prepare for ejection,” ADIM said to her, his voice streaming through the other’s vocal emitters. “We are in range.”
Sage snapped around, her eyes pinned down the sights of her rifle. She lowered it when she saw the voice emanated from an android, though her grimace never lifted.
“We’re ready,” she grumbled. “On your signal.”
ADIM returned focus to his main body as it walked beside Cassius. As they traversed the White Hand’s spacious corridors, a long line of androids moved alongside them. ADIM signaled the bow thrusters of the White Hand. He grabbed Cassius to hold him steady as the walls of the ship vibrated until reaching drifting speed.
“Thank you, ADIM,” Cassius said, straightening his clothes.
They entered the cargo bay filled with tight rows of androids all surrounding the Shadow Chariot. The androids parted for Cassius and ADIM’s main body. Their hundreds of pale eye-lenses aimed forward, awaiting purpose. Pulse-rifles clung to their backs.
Cassius stopped walking when he reached the Shadow Chariot at the heart of the army. He spun around to marvel at them.
“Can I ask you something?” he said as his gaze swept all the way back around to land on ADIM.
“Of course, Creator,” ADIM replied.
“How did you learn this trick?”
“As with all other things, this unit learned from you.”
Cassius sighed. “I wish that were true.”
“It is,” ADIM insisted. “Upon merging with the program Gaia, this unit watched how you constructed this body. This unit observed every second that you spent studying the composition of these androids. They are inferior in every way, but without them this unit would never have been brought to existence.”
ADIM extended his arm toward one of the androids and simultaneously controlled it to extend its arm toward him. Their index fingers touched.
“Now, they are worthy as well,” he said. “They are—we are—all ADIM.”
Cassius beamed. “Oh, ADIM. You would’ve made a fine brother for Caleb. I’m honored to call you my child.” He cupped his hands around the sides of ADIM’s head and pressed his lips directly between his blazing red eye-lenses.
A surge of energy ran through ADIM’s main systems. It was like all the wires threading through his frame were going to overload and burst with sparks. He wasn’t sure exactly what it meant, but the moment the sensation passed, he longed for it as much as he had ever longed to hear Cassius’ voice after a long period without speaking.
Brothers, he thought. Humans call their siblings this, but also use it informally to refer to their equals.
“This unit and Caleb Vale are equals?” ADIM questioned, his processors whirring. ADIM performed a rapid scan of Cassius’ vitals and found they were identical to when he watched the recording of Caleb. No other entity in the Circuit, living or artificial, had ever elicited a reaction on that level.
Cassius backed away, but his expression didn’t change.
“As I’ve said, nobody will ever replace Caleb, but you don’t need to,” he said. “You are just as dear to me. This, all of this, is your doing. We needed time and viable explanations, and because of you we’ll get both. Now, go make Benjar regret ever coming here.”
ADIM stared into the glinting pupils of his creator. He’d come to understand why Cassius had chosen to build him in the first place, but it was only then that he had a precise answer as to why he existed. He would ensure that nothing would ever stand in his way of making his creator feel the way he just had again.
Nothing.
ADIM vaulted over the side of the Shadow Chariot and into its cockpit. He didn’t bother linking his main body to the circuits inside so that it could feed off his power core and turn on. Pressure and inertia were going to carry both it and him to the Ascendant. There was no reason to risk the ship being detected by Tribunal scanners unless he actually needed to pilot it, no matter how advanced its stealth systems.
“I still don’t think you should risk bringing it,” Cassius said. “I’ll be able to retrieve you.”
“This unit remains uncertain about the length of time hampering the Ascendant’s systems will take,” ADIM explained. “If this unit takes longer than the others, they will require your assistance. You believe they are necessary, so this unit will agree. A second retrieval by you would become impossible.”
“This is your plan. If you think you’ll need it, I trust you. But try not to take long. When you return, we’ll finally crack open Earth together.”
“This unit will not fail.”
“You never do, ADIM,” Cassius said. “You never do.” He patted the Shadow Chariot on its hull, looked ADIM over one last time, and then headed out of the cargo bay. “Goodbye, ADIM.”
“Goodbye, Creator,” he said, with no tinge of sorrow from the notion.
ADIM signaled the cargo bay’s interior door to seal once Cassius was through. Then the exit ramp flew open. The rapid change in pressure immediately yanked the Shadow Chariot and ADIM’s android army out into space.
9
Chapter Nine—Sage
“Prepare for ejection. We are in
range,” a steely voice said to Sage.
It came from behind her. She figured out who it was when she was halfway around, but that didn’t stop her from aiming her rifle directly toward the head of the android that’d spoken. Being surrounded by more than a hundred of the metal abominations had her on edge. Especially when they talked.
“We’re ready,” Sage grumbled as she lowered her weapon. “On your mark.”
“You do know they’re on our side, don’t you?” Tarsis asked.
“For now, maybe.”
She didn’t know him well, but the sight of the Vergent still managed to unsettle her considering he was human. He was in far worse shape than Talon though. Even faith in the Spirit couldn’t save him from the blue death.
His flesh was stretched over the bones of his face as if it were a mask being worn by a skeleton. If it were up to her, he would be left behind with the rest of the crew of the Monarch, but Talon insisted he tag along. She couldn’t say no.
“In position,” Captain Larana said as she entered the cargo bay of the Monarch. “You all ready?”
“We’re ready,” Talon responded.
He’d been sitting alone in the corner of the room, staring intently through a narrow viewport out into space almost the entire time since they’d set off from Ceres days earlier. Sage had only seen him move to get some water or ration bars.
Larana crossed the room, past countless silent androids, and placed her hand on Talon’s shoulder. “Of all the people we coulda stumbled upon in the middle of space, I’m glad it was you two,” she said. “You both made me a very rich woman. My people won’t forget.”
“We haven’t done anything. You’ve made all the calls. You’re a good captain, Larana. Trust me, I’ve known plenty of shitty ones.” Talon stood. The way his worn Morastus suit hugged his physique, Sage couldn’t imagine him ever looking as frail as Tarsis did, but soon he would. It was as inevitable as humanity returning to Earth one day.
“Now, you remember what to do, right?” Talon asked.
Larana shot a sidelong glance in Tarsis’ direction. He nodded to her.
“Once we let you off, take a hard burn back to Ceres,” Larana said reluctantly. “Don’t look back. Zaimur gave us our orders.”
“Good,” Talon said. “This is a New Earth cruiser we’re hitting. None of your crew needs to get killed for our war.”
“Won’t be only your war forever. You taught me that.”
Talon breathed out. “I did, didn’t I.”
“And I saw Kalliope with my own eyes. Soon the Verge might fall under the Tribune’s fist. Nice to know we ain’t alone.”
“Even still, get out of here. I won’t have anyone else dying because of me.”
Talon extended his hand. Larana eyed it, as if shaking hands was as strange a custom to her people as it had been to Sage when she first arrived on Ceres. There was something ancient about it. Something official. It was growing on her.
“I been offered a ton not to ask questions,” Larana said. “I don’t know what Zaimur is after, but I’ve heard enough to know what you’re after. I hope you get her back, Talon Rayne, Keeper of the Circuit. And I hope we see you soon.”
Larana grasped Talon’s hand and gave it one hard, awkward shake before she let go. Then she stomped halfway across the cargo bay and shouted, “Kitt!”
The young Vergent, who often shadowed the captain’s every move when he wasn’t piloting the Monarch, tried to hide amongst a cluster of androids. He wore a crudely fashioned, space-worthy suit and already had his helmet on. He came skulking out sheepishly.
“What do you think you’re doin’?” Larana asked.
“I’m goin’ with them, Mum,” Kitt said.
“No, you ain’t. Come now.”
“But I wanna help ’em!”
“Kitt.”
“I’m sure you’d be a big help too,” Tarsis said, moving in to remove the kid’s helmet. “But we can’t trust anyone else flying this tin can if things get rough. Keeping your crew safe is a pilot’s first duty. We’ll be back on Ceres before you know it.”
Kitt lowered his head. “You promise?”
“I promise. Right, Talon?”
Sage could see the lump in Talon’s throat sink as he swallowed. He mumbled something that sounded like agreement before turning his attention back to space. Sage decided to join him. She was growing tired of goodbyes, and after Kitt left the room, Tarsis began exchanging one with Larana. They whispered to each other too softly for her to overhear.
She positioned herself beside Talon, far enough that their arms didn’t touch, with her pulse-rifle in her artificial hand and a helmet in the other. She didn’t say a word to him, but it was the closest they’d been since they’d arrived on the Monarch. She could hear his labored breaths, and whether they were due to nerves or the disease ravaging his body from the inside out, she wasn’t sure.
“Sage,” Talon said softly.
She turned her head toward him so fast that it made her neck crack.
“What is it?” she asked.
“I really hope you’re telling the truth.”
“I am. On the Spirit, I am.”
A humming noise augmented throughout the cargo bay. Every android present was powering up, their eye-lenses flickering on like stars through a twilit sky. They rose to full height and drew the rifles off their backs all at once.
“Initiate,” every single one of them stated simultaneously. Their hollow voices reverberated throughout the room.
“Good luck,” Larana said loud enough for everyone to hear. She’d finished bidding Tarsis farewell and stood in the cargo bay’s interior exit. The door slammed shut and she was gone.
Talon took a few steps toward the Monarch’s exit ramp. “Helmets on,” he ordered.
Sage did as commanded. Her helmet wasn’t snug, but it wasn’t the time to be lamenting the fact that she’d left her own suit back in the exhaust vents of the Ascendant. She resolved to try to retrieve it if the opportunity presented itself. It fit better. Probably protected better too.
“Check comm-link frequency,” Talon said.
Sage flipped down a switch on the side of her helmet. “I hear you.”
Tarsis stepped up between them and cleared his throat. “Loud and clear, Talon,” he rasped.
“This unit has contact,” the cold voice of ADIM announced.
Sage had to fight the sickening feeling growing in the pit of her stomach from hearing the android directly in her ear. She hadn’t even realized he would be joining them in communications.
“I can never repay any of you for this, but if we don’t make it, let’s give these bastards hell.” Talon raised his free hand and gestured toward the ceiling. “Switch on oxygen now. Larana, let us fly.”
“Like the birds on ancient Earth,” Larana announced.
The exit ramp of the Monarch fell open, and they, along with all the androids, were sucked out. The extreme pressure pulling on Sage’s joints was enough to make her clench her eyelids and grind her teeth, but it didn’t last long.
Once it abated, she found herself soaring across space. The stars of the universe were hardly moving, but the outline of the Ascendant grew steadily larger in front of her. It sat, hanging over the oblong shape of the asteroid Fortuna—a lustrous, silvery shard shining through the blackness.
“Talon, Tarsis, are you still conscious?” Sage asked through their comm-link. The entry into the great vacuum was tolerable for her, but she was concerned the g-forces might be too much for people with their condition.
“I am,” Talon answered, his voiced somewhat strained.
“Ready to go,” Tarsis grumbled, his even weaker.
“All right, ADIM.” Sage paused. She couldn’t believe she was actually working with the android, let alone calling him by the insane name Cassius gave him. “We’re clear.”
“This unit will make contact in three hundred and twelve seconds,” ADIM said. “They will shift interior defenses toward this unit
’s position. You and the others will breach the Ascendant exactly two hundred and forty seconds after. Timing is critical. You must operate as quickly as possible for the White Hand to successfully retrieve you.”
“Retrieve us, ADIM,” Talon said. “We’re all getting off that ship together.”
“This unit will find a way off after the child is secured. The Creator desires to help Sage Volus, so that is the primary objective. This unit will then impair the Ascendant’s weapons systems.”
Sage felt her stomach sink. The android really does care for Cassius, she thought. It wasn’t just an illusion crafted by a genius. They had all decided on a strategy before they set out from Ceres. They’d float in close, the androids on low enough power settings to avoid detection by scanners on the lookout for enemy ships, not floating bodies. Then the androids would breach so fast the defenders wouldn’t know what happened. In the chaos, Sage, Talon and Tarsis were supposed to reach the brig and find Elisha, while ADIM took care of the Ascendant.
Yet here the android was, making plans of its own for the sake of what Cassius really wanted—to help her.
No, she told herself. He’s just using us.
“Do whatever you have to, android,” Sage said.
Comms went silent after that. All she could hear while she drifted through space was the tune of her own steady breaths. She thought about whispering a prayer to the Spirit of the Earth, but as she looked around at the androids flying beside her, and the void beyond them, it didn’t feel proper.
There was no ground beneath her feet. There was nothing but the inevitability of her colliding with the ship of her former master for the second time as an enemy.
She thought it would be harder for her to come to grips with the fact that she’d soon potentially have to kill any of her own people who stood in her way. She’d done it on Eureka, but that was different. That was battle; it was survival. Now she was bringing the fight to them, yet there, sailing through the vacuum surrounded by a host of abominations and cursed men, she felt more at peace than she had in a long time.
Nobody had asked her to do this. Even the vow she’d made to Talon all that time ago, to reunite him with his daughter, she’d made on her own. She wasn’t doing this to atone for the sins of Caleb Vale. She wasn’t doing it for his lost father. It wasn’t a task assigned by the council to be carried out in the name of the Tribune.
The Circuit: The Complete Saga Page 59