“I… am… los… ing… commu… cation…”
“Save your energy, child. I’m leaving Earth now. Whatever you’re doing, I will be on the Hound’s Paw, watching everything we’ve worked on come to fruition. Connect to the White Hand so you can do the same.”
Cassius paused. He had to feel his chest to make sure that it was his heart pounding against his rib cage and that nothing else was wrong.
“I love you, ADIM,” he said. “Together, we’ll end this.”
22
Chapter Twenty-Two—Adim
“I love you.”
Those were the final words Cassius had spoken after ADIM came out of his state of stasis and contacted him. It was like no time had passed at all with all of his major systems down, but if ADIM’s calculations had been correct, it should’ve taken five hundred and four hours after the destruction of the Shadow Chariot to reach Mars.
Presently, the red planet loomed large in front of him. The damage from Benjar Vakari’s attack on his being remained negligible.
He wished he could’ve continued the conversation. Love. It was not a word ever used in reference to him. Cassius couldn’t even describe it accurately. Even so, ADIM was sure about one thing. He loved his Creator, and he had to seize the Vale Protocol so that he could be there with him when their plans finally came to fruition.
First, he had to figure out how to slow down. At his velocity, even his chassis couldn’t endure a collision with Mars.
He surveyed his surroundings. A solar-ark sped toward the Mars Conduit Station like the glinting tip of a spear. ADIM watched as it went by in a blur, passing through the rings of the station and exchanging containers of goods and passengers in fractions of seconds. The complex system of magnets and gravitum-based attractors allowed the shipments to safely transition from a small fraction of light speed to a complete stop.
ADIM shot a few of his highest caliber rounds off to the right to alter his trajectory. He had to pass through the inside of the station’s rings—inches away from the surface that received the cargo of the solar-arks—if he wanted to take advantage of those very transfer systems.
He extended his body as straight as it could go and expended one last round in the opposite direction to perfect his heading. Seconds later, he zipped through the rings, each one slowing him down until, by the last, he was essentially motionless. Shifting plates and apertures cranked beneath him in anticipation of receiving containers and transfer cars.
ADIM had never visited the Red Planet, but he knew it well. Cassius had told him countless stories, and all the memory logs he’d adapted from Gaia gave him a clear picture. He needed Tribune Joran Noscondra, the only Tribune currently on New Terrene, for what he was planning.
By ADIM’s calculations, there was a ninety-three percent chance Joran was in the Tribunal Citadel. There was nowhere else he had reason to be. ADIM had seen his New Earth cruiser docked and powered down at the defensive station built into Mars’ largest moon, Phobos, during his approach.
Grabbing the ledge of the conduit’s last ring, ADIM used it to catapult himself straight down toward Mars. A towering space-elevator connecting the planet’s surface to the conduit extended from the citadel. Figures moved up and down within it, but ADIM didn’t need to be enclosed. He grabbed hold of the tower and began to climb down from space through Mars’ thin atmosphere.
A flock of Tribunal frigates soared around it, keeping an eye out for any Ceresian ship foolish enough to try to attack Mars. They didn’t see ADIM. He didn’t even need to use his camouflage against the metallic tower, because he was made of the same thing. A blip on their inferior radar.
As the rosy surface of Mars drew steadily nearer, the skyline of nearby New Terrene took shape. The crystalline tops of the many towers shimmered in the sun, the vibrant green of their vertical farms refracted, giving them the appearance of emeralds.
All of them shot up toward the city’s latticed ceiling enclosure, a colossal structure visible from space, spanning for kilometers. It was the most impressive human settlement ADIM had ever envisioned, and one that he knew would suit his Creator once he took control.
At the top of the Tribunal Citadel, a glass dome provided ADIM with a view inside to its council room. A crackling flame in the center sat in a golden basin, but that wasn’t what ADIM focused on. Suspended above it was a familiar wiry plant in a transparent container. He’d seen it countless times whenever Cassius watched the last recording of his human son. The plant had been nurtured on Earth by Caleb Vale.
It does not belong here, ADIM thought.
He’d heard Cassius express his disdain for the plant remaining under the control of the Tribune numerous times. He considered smashing through the glass and taking it, but he couldn’t draw attention to himself too soon. He’d expelled much of his ammunition on the Ascendant and didn’t have the White Hand’s stores at his disposal to reload, so he had to capture Joran in the most efficient manner possible.
So he continued down from the dome of the citadel, camouflaging himself as a reflection of the sky. Still nobody saw him. A dozen fighters patrolled the area constantly, and there were combat mechs posted at the entrance. This was one of the most guarded buildings in the Circuit, but they were waiting for ships or human assassins.
Until ADIM had control of the Vale Protocol, he couldn’t take the defenses on, so he decided to use one of his Creator’s gifts.
He leapt off the citadel, landing on top of a tram arriving from New Terrene. Once it passed through the airlock into the citadel, he rolled, unseen, off the back side of the car and crawled around to the front. He waited until it came to a complete stop and then emerged, camouflaged seamlessly in the appearance of Benjar Vakari, which he had record of from their encounter.
Taking a few steps forward, he imitated Benjar’s gait as best as his limbs allowed. The line of Joran’s honor guard posted at the tram station’s exit noticed him and immediately fell to their knees.
“Your Eminence,” they said in unison, bowing their heads and dragging their fingers across the floor.
ADIM said nothing. He continued forward, into a spectacular entry hall organized around a fountain and a pink-flowered tree. A scanner at the entrance beeped that it detected metal as he passed through, but nobody tried to stop him. He was a Tribune. The lead guard hurrying after him hushed the security officers posted at the scanner, who clearly had no idea what to do.
“Your Eminence, forgive me, we weren’t told to expect your arrival,” the guard said.
He snapped his fingers toward a female attendant sitting by the fountain. She ran into another room, emerging a moment later with a glass of water set on a golden tray.
“Water, Your Eminence?” she asked, averting her gaze.
ADIM stopped walking. “No,” he said, impersonating Benjar’s voice.” He turned to the guard. “Please inform Tribune Noscondra that I must meet with him immediately. In private.”
“Yes, Your Eminence,” the guard said, bowing his head. He walked a short distance away and then relayed the command over a comm-link.
While waiting, ADIM observed the lobby. It was octagon shaped, and every corner boasted a combat mech along with two guards. A lift ascended into the council room above and was the most densely guarded. Enough firepower to tear apart ADIM’s chassis, yet all of them were lowering their heads in reverence to him, unable to see what he really was.
They are too weak to remain, ADIM decided.
“His Eminence Tribune Noscondra will meet you in the council chambers,” the guard said to ADIM after his conversation concluded. “Follow me.”
He led ADIM toward the lift. Sentries outside the entry parted ways. ADIM hung his head to make sure his eyes wouldn’t be seen up close through the pixels of light portraying him in the image of Benjar Vakari.
ADIM and the guard rose through the space until they reached the council chamber, which was completely empty. When the guard attempted to follow ADIM inside, he held up a hand to k
eep him back.
Four soaring, golden seats were arrayed around the fire basin. A map of the Circuit floated above it, similar to the one ADIM had used to show Zaimur the location of the Tribunal fleet but much, much larger. From that angle, ADIM could see that the wiry plant was positioned in Earth’s coordinates.
“Benjar!” Joran exclaimed. He entered from another route, presumably from private quarters. He wore a very clearly forced smile. “I had no idea you were coming. Don’t you have a war to win? Earth is under siege. Those wily shadow-dwelling devils.”
ADIM said nothing as Joran got closer, a long robe brushing across the smooth pearlescent floor.
“I don’t have time for your games, Benjar,” Joran scolded, his smile melting away. “Have you finally come to gloat that you were right about Cassius in person? You’d better be sure Cordo can handle the Ceresians alone.”
Once he was close enough, ADIM sprang at him and barred the Tribune’s neck with his arm. He squeezed exactly hard enough to ensure that Joran wouldn’t be able to wriggle free. He needed him alive so that the Vale Protocol’s biometric scanners would read the flow of blood through his appendages. It was created by Cassius, so ADIM assumed that the security was impossible to deceive.
“Benjar!” Joran squealed. “What is the meaning of this?”
The guard by the lift came running out, but ADIM placed a bullet between his eyes before he had a chance to raise his weapon. Then ADIM carried Joran toward the map of the Circuit.
“Have you lost your mind?” Joran asked.
ADIM shoved him against the rail encircling the map, and reached out through the flame. It was so hot it would’ve burnt human flesh, but to ADIM it was nothing. The image of Benjar projected around his arm wavered as he stretched out and grasped the plant’s container.
There was no reason left to hide. ADIM allowed his true appearance to show, and Joran’s jaw dropped. The lift chimed before Joran could say anything. A squad of honor guards stormed out, aiming down their holo-sights. ADIM turned towards them, his arm still clenching Joran’s neck and the other holding the plant. The guards fanned out in front of him.
“Hold your fire!” Joran shouted. “Hold your fire.” He futilely attempted to twist his head around to get a look at ADIM’s face. “Release me at once!”
“Tell your followers to stand down,” ADIM said, using his own tinny voice.
“Do you even realize what you’re doing, whatever you are? I am a Tribune!”
“And I am ADIM. If any firearm is expelled in our direction, I will break your cervical vertebrae.”
ADIM squeezed hard enough to sense Joran swallow. The Tribune immediately motioned with his outstretched hand for the guards to lower their weapons.
“You’re Cassius’ android Benjar spoke about, aren’t you?” Joran realized. Words spilled out of his mouth quickly as his fear of death took hold. “No Ceresian android has eyes like that. Is this what he’s stooped to now that he’s gone? Sending abominations to assassinate us?”
“Cassius Vale is not dead.”
With the plant and Joran in hand, ADIM walked forward. The guards moved out of his way, but they kept their eyes on him. He reached the lift, and instead of taking it, he leapt through the open shaft around it. Joran screamed at the top of his lungs as they plummeted toward the floor of the grand lobby. The burnished floor cracked beneath ADIM’s feet as he landed. Every guard’s aim in the room snapped toward him, mechs too. They held their fire once they realized who ADIM was holding.
“What does he want?” Joran asked. He was short of breath from screaming. “The plant? Take it! It was Benjar’s prize anyway.”
ADIM ignored him. He shuffled cautiously across the lobby, keeping an eye on all the guards. None dared make a move.
“Release the Tribune!” one demanded.
ADIM wasted no time. He needed Joran alive, but he needed to ensure the defenses didn’t try anything. He shifted his arm, shot Joran through the meat of his bicep, and then returned to choking him. The guards aimed their rifles and stepped forward but held their fire. Joran howled in pain.
“I instructed you to make them stand down,” ADIM said.
“Stand down!” Joran gasped. “Have everyone stand down!”
He continued to moan as they crossed the room, and this time the guards stayed still. They didn’t even make a sound. The tram ADIM had arrived on remained parked, and he backed slowly into the back car. The door shut behind him, and he threw Joran into one of the seats.
ADIM placed his hand over the controls for the car’s lighting system and used it to infiltrate its full programming. He set it to depart for New Terrene at max speed. Joran was flung from the chair as it shot forward, but ADIM caught him.
“I thought even Cassius was above something like this,” Joran said, wheezing. “I’d heard he went after Benjar on the Ascendant, and now he’s sent you for me, hasn’t he? The coward. I should’ve listened to Benjar and had him killed a long time ago! We never should have exiled him back to Titan.”
“The creator did not send me,” ADIM replied.
He paced back and forth, looking through every window in the car to try to get a clearer picture of his surroundings. Tribunal fighters in the sky followed as the tram raced down Pavonis Mons, the towering peak the citadel was built into. As long as ADIM had custody of one of their revered leaders, none of them would fire.
“Right.” He groaned and put pressure on his arm. “An abomination like you just came here all by yourself.”
ADIM clutched Joran’s throat and lifted him into the air. “I uphold the will of the Creator,” he said. “You and all of your followers cannot be trusted with his continued safety. You must all be subdued.” He tossed Joran against the wall.
The Tribune gasped for air and clawed at his throat. Then he stared up at ADIM, his eyes bright with dread.
“I won’t be used in another one of his messages!” he snapped. “I deserve some respect from that man for all I did! For sparing him.” He used a chair to pick himself up onto his feet and held himself there, legs wobbling. “So just end this already. What’s one more death at the hands of that traitor?”
ADIM turned and gazed at New Terrene. His field of view was filled with glittering towers, all except for one. One was stark and constructed completely out of metal as dark as ADIM’s. Perhaps, even, the same alloy.
It was the Enclave—the heart of every Tribunal security system. It ensured the protection of Tribunal settlements throughout the Circuit. Monitored the executors. Kept file of military service.
Somewhere locked inside that building was the Vale Protocol’s mainframe. Joran was the key to getting inside.
“Not yet,” ADIM said.
23
Chapter Twenty-Three—Sage
“I’m counting on you, Vale,” Zaimur Morastus said.
He stood at central command of the Hound’s Paw, in the midst of a live voice-only transmission with Cassius. He glanced nervously back over his shoulder at Sage, who held a rifle at his back.
“Get him here, now,” she demanded. Whether or not the skeleton crew left on the command deck knew about Cassius before Sage arrived, she wasn’t sure, but there were no secrets left in the room. None of them were allowed to leave, and Sage had scrap welded over the hole in the entry so nobody could even see in. Every camera was switched off or broken.
Sage had the crew arranged in one row so she could monitor their work, ensuring they didn’t say anything to the rest of the Ceresian fleet. The threat that both they and Zaimur would all die if they did helped.
Zaimur returned his attention to Cassius. “We both know I’ll need you here to help convince Benjar we’re not bluffing when he arrives,” he continued. “Blowing the mine is a last resort.”
“Like I would miss a chance for a face-to-face with Benjar Vakari?” Cassius laughed. “Just ensure that the defenses are down and my passage is safe. ADIM is controlling an escort for me, but I don’t want to see what happens if
this bomb meets a rocket.”
“It’s safe. Move fast.”
Zaimur switched off the transmission. Then he slumped down onto his palms. Sage shoved him onto the floor and bound his wrists to the base of the console with plasma cuffs taken off a guard’s body.
“You can’t keep me tied up like this forever,” Zaimur said, his voice shaky.
Sage sat directly across from him, the viewport of the Hound’s Paw at her back. She used the sill to help herself to the floor. Then she laid her rifle across her lap, keeping it aimed at Zaimur. They’d been arranged similarly for going on two weeks.
By then, her many wounds were the least of her issues. With the command deck sealed off from the rest of the ship, supplies were limited. A handful of ration bars and water canisters scattered through the piloting stations had to be shared among herself, Zaimur, and the crew to keep them all alert, but that was all.
Sage’s eyes were heavy, and on the few occasions she got an hour or so of rest, she did so with Zaimur restrained and the barrel of her rifle pressed against his neck. The first time she did it, one of the engineers attempted to sneak up and grab one of the firearms she kept piled at her side. Her training woke her to the sound of his soft footsteps—an executor always sleeps light—and she planted a bullet in his brain. Nobody tried after that.
After a week, hunger and thirst were wreaking havoc on her body along with the others. Zaimur’s breathing was bristly, like he had gravel stuck in his lungs. Hers was silent, but only because she was forcing it to remain that way so she wouldn’t appear weak. The entire room reeked of shit, urine, and, worst of all, death. Bodies littering the floor were slowly rotting while the ship’s old air recyclers hummed and circulated their stench. It was too foul to get used to.
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