“Androids, about-face.”
“Yes, Creator,” they droned again and turned around in unison.
“Androids, continue cleaning this vessel.”
The same response came and then they all returned to the stains on the floor that they had been scrubbing before Cassius or ADIM entered the room.
“You see, ADIM? Not a second thought. You were the same when I created you, but they will never evolve as you have. ‘Dynamic Intelligence’—that was my gift to you. These androids, they are imitations. The androids dotting the Ceresian Belt, those are imitations. But you, you are something far more.”
ADIM rose to face his creator. They stood at the exact same height. “What is that?” ADIM inquired.
Cassius smiled warmly. “We’ll just have to find out exactly what for ourselves, but to me, now, you continue to be my son. They are only here to help me…to help us with what comes next.”
ADIM’s rotating eyes slowed and his scanners read that Cassius’s heartbeat was doing the same. He glanced at the mess of parts sprinkled around his feet.
“Don’t worry, broken parts can be replaced,” Cassius said. “Now let us find this child.”
“Elisha,” ADIM corrected. “This unit just re-analyzed the thermal readings of the freighter given to Sage Volus before its departure. A faint heat signature, likely from a small-sized human, was located in the galley of the ship. This unit’s focus on guarding you from the Executor resulted in it going unnoticed. It will not happen again. This unit will prepare the Shadow Chariot to go and retrieve the Creator’s gift.”
“No, ADIM, leave her. If it is the girl, Sage will keep her safe. If she ever gets back to her people, she will cast blame for what happened on Kalliope against the Tribune, just as we desire. As long as you’re sure she saw nothing but the inside of the hangar?”
“This unit is positive.”
“Then we have nothing to worry about. They will already know this place is somewhere in an asteroid, but with war to come and thousands of celestial bodies floating through the Ignascent Cell, the Tribunal’s search for me will only serve to spread their resources even thinner, just as we intend. I must ask—why did you bring the girl back?”
“The Creator was not clear that everyone on Kalliope had to die,” ADIM responded. “There was ample room on the Shadow Chariot for a human of her size. This unit has seen you looking at the recording of your deceased human child Caleb. His loss appears to distress you. This unit had never seen an undeveloped human before and deduced that she could be made worthy of your will. You have given this unit many gifts. This unit wanted to provide you with one.” ADIM’s eyes picked up in their rotation again. He worried that somehow he’d misinterpreted his Creator’s will and had made a mistake. “Are you unhappy with this unit’s decision?”
Cassius smiled. “Of course not. I’m thrilled and honored that you came to that decision on your own ADIM, but I don’t want another child,” he said. “I have enough. We are together in this now. Just us. Do you understand?”
“Yes.” ADIM’s eyes stopped rotating.
Cassius reached out, placed his hand on the android’s face, and stared at his expressionless face. “You continue to surprise me, ADIM.”
CHAPTER NINE—SAGE
Made of Metal
It’d been days since Sage awoke from the induced slumber. She was sitting on her knees in the center of the freighter’s command deck, watching through the viewport as the stars crept lazily across the blackness. In it her reflection stared back. Her eyes were green as lettuce touched by fresh water, not pale and hopeless as she remembered. Her fiery hair was cut shorter than she was used to and frayed out from beneath a cloth bandage stained with blood just as red. She reached up with her human hand and grabbed a loose strand, feeling a minor stinging sensation at the root as she pulled ever so gently. It startled her. She knew she’d never get used to feeling such meager pains.
She sighed and looked down. Her pistol hung at her hip and she was wearing the unmarked suit of white nano-armor bestowed upon her when she was named an Executor. All of its dents and stains were precisely where she left them when Cassius stripped her of it before surgery.
The exit from the command deck was sealed from the outside and impossible to cut through even with her blade. She figured it was programmed to open once Titan was in reach and the ships controls were returned to her; otherwise she’d have to slice through the viewport. The freighter flew completely on autopilot, without even the beeping of navigation consoles to accompany her. There were some yeasty ration bars and a container of water left behind by Cassius in the corner of the room, but other than that it was entirely empty.
She’d considered trying to hack into the ship’s computer and unseal her temporary prison. She’d considered trying to undo everything Cassius and his monstrous creation had done to the ship’s systems and figure out exactly where he was hiding. But every time she did, her gaze drifted to her metallic arm and she remembered that her wit was no match for his. It would just be a waste of time. At least that’s how she tried to justify her lack of action.
The truth was that she didn’t want to know. As much as Cassius broke her heart by betraying the Tribune, she couldn’t forget the man who’d introduced her to his son a lifetime ago. She remembered the hero revered throughout the halls of the Spirit Temples and on the streets of Tribunal settlements all throughout the Circuit.
As she sat quietly, readying herself for prayer, she pictured herself back on New Terrene. She didn’t care who was looking through her eyes as long as she could continue doing what she did best—keeping the city’s faithful populace safe from dissenters and breeders of terror.
As clouded as her mind had been when she awoke on the White Hand, presently it was clear. All of the memories were beginning to sort themselves, allowing her to draw on them if need be but not assail her. Piece by piece she was being put back together, re-embracing emotions that had become as foreign to her as they were to an android.
“I am blessed with ground beneath me,” she stated proudly. Her trust in her Tribunal masters may have been strained, but she knew that the Earth Spirit remained with her. She’d seen what lack of faith could do when she watched Caleb Vale die on Earth, and she wouldn’t allow herself to lose it. Like humanity itself she was being continually tested, her worth ascertained. She bent forward and let the tips of her fingers graze the floor. Then she closed her eyes.
“Our Homeworld has been blighted by darkness, but we are the light. Those beside me, those beneath me, those above me, ours is a collective unconscious, bound to each other and to the soul of the Earth. We are, all of us, shards of that Spirit, never alone as the dark void closes in. This day is yet another test of my conviction, but though the Earth may be wreathed in flame and shadow, she remains within me. May those who have left to join this essence guide my daily endeavors. Redemption is near. May my faith be eternal and unwavering, so that I may one day walk the Earth’s untainted surface with—” She paused and looked from side to side. Her list of those deserving was getting shorter. She swallowed the lump in her throat and continued, “—with those deserving at my side.”
Suddenly the entrance to the command deck slid open with a whoosh. Sage snapped around, drawing the blade in her synthetic arm. She saw a shadow first, but when her hawkish gaze followed it to the source she found something there that she didn’t expect—a young girl.
“Agatha?” the girl’s small voice asked. She didn’t seem phased in the slightest by Sage’s lethal stance. She took a few unsure steps, and then her face lit up and she sprinted forward.
“Agatha?” Sage mouthed, confused. A rush of memories surged through her—Talon’s broken stare just before she pulled the trigger on Vellish; their hands touching in the Ascendant’s brig; playing cards beside a fire on Ceres Prime.
Impossible. Talon’s daughter?
She reached out with her human hand in disbelief. It can’t be. I must still be experiencing side
effects from the removal. She’s just a memory, she told herself emphatically. But her human fingers grazed the face of the girl and they didn’t pass through. She felt a cold cheek and rigid bone beneath it. Her eyes looked just like Talon’s.
“You’re alive!” the girl exclaimed, hugging her leg. Her gaze immediately gravitated to the container of water pinned against a console.
“I…” Sage was at a loss for words. When nothing came out she noticed the girl’s dry lips and nudged her toward the water. The child didn’t waste any time before running over and chugging.
“Where were you?” Sage finally managed to squeeze out, more harshly than she’d intended.
The girl wiped her lips and started tearing into a ration bar. “Stuck in the refectory. I was looking around there and then got locked inside when the ship took off. It ran out of water, but then the door unlocked and I came here.” She looked around the room. “You’re alone?”
“I thought I was.”
“Where’s ADIM?”
“The android?”
“He told me to stay but then there was a crash! I didn’t mean to get stuck in here, the door just shut behind me.”
“He’s gone.” Sage reached out hesitantly and placed her had on the girl’s arm. “You’re safe now,” she promised.
The girl was so preoccupied with devouring every last crumb of the tasteless bar that Sage’s words seem to pass right through her ears. “You know him? I’ve never met an android like him. He was going to introduce me to ‘the Creator.’” She stopped eating and her eyes widened. “Is that you?”
“What? Of course not!”
“Oh…I hope I didn’t upset him by leaving. I didn’t mean to.”
“Upset him—” Sage swallowed the rest of her words. “How did you meet him…I mean it?”
“He rescued me from Kalliope after the Tribune attacked.”
Sage had no idea what that meant, but being that the girl was Ceresian she was worried a war had started and she’d missed it. “What’s Kalliope?” Sage asked.
The girl stared at Sage like she couldn’t believe what she’d heard. “It’s a mine,” she said. “Are you taking me back to Ceres? My father should be back by now; he promised. He’s probably looking for me.” The girl’s face lips dipped into a frown. “He’s not going to be happy about Uncle Julius.”
Sage’s throat went dry before she was able to respond: “Don’t worry. Your father is alive and well.” A small moon passed by the ship’s viewport, its glossy surface faintly reflecting what appeared to be the rings of Saturn. “I’m sure he’s doing whatever it takes to get back to you. Right now though, we’re about to land on Titan. You’ll be safe with me and I’ll make sure you get safe passage back home.”
“Titan!” the girl exclaimed, getting up and running to Sage’s side. “Does that mean we’ll get to see Saturn? I’ve always wanted to!”
“Yes, it’s right out there,” Sage replied, pointing to the outline of its rings. As she did, something the girl had said dawned on her. “What happened to Julius?”
The girl’s gaze drooped away from the sight of Saturn. “He died on Kalliope…” she whimpered.
Sage wasn’t sure why a sudden swell of sadness seized her, for a Ceresian no less, but before she could respond, a loud, crackling voice spoke through the ship’s speakers.
“This is Tribunal Hand Yavortha,” it said. “Unidentified vessel, you are approaching Titan’s atmosphere at high velocity. Avert your course immediately or we will fire.”
Yavortha! Sage thought, remembering that he was not one for idle threats. She had no love for the man, but she was grateful to be contacted by somebody who would know who she was.
She ran over to the captain’s chair and swiped her hand across the command HOLO-Screen. The transmission was coming in clean, but along with the piloting controls her ability to respond was locked.
“Come on, Cassius!” she whispered angrily under her breath. The doors were all open, so she couldn’t understand what the ship was waiting for.
A transmission from Yavortha came through again, this time with even more severity. “Unidentified vessel, you will comply!”
The command console beeped and Sage’s last entry went through. “Don’t fire, this is Executor Sage Volus!” she shouted, more frantically then she intended to. “I repeat, don’t fire! This is Executor Sage Volus.”
There was an extended period of silence which Sage imagined was most likely for vocal recognition. She didn’t know how long exactly she’d been out of contact, so some skepticism was expected. Still, there were only a handful of people in the Circuit who knew her true identity.
“Executor!” Yavortha responded, sounding pleased. “Lord Vakari will be thrilled to learn you aren’t dead. I advise that you slow your approach. The thick atmosphere will tear you to pieces.”
“I’ve lost control of my shi—” Right as she was about to finish the sentence, the lock on the freighter’s systems was disarmed. “Never mind,” she exhaled. “I have it.” She lowered the acceleration of the engines and felt the familiar vacant feeling in her gut that comes when one falls too fast and too suddenly.
“We will be awaiting you in the hangar of Cassius’s old compound. Do not delay.”
The transmission cut out and the freighter started to rattle. They were entering the upper atmosphere of Titan. She strapped on her restraining belt and then wrapped her synthetic arm around Talon’s daughter. “Hold on, girl,” she whispered into her ear.
“I have a name, you know,” the child responded indignantly. “It’s Elisha. I thought you were Agatha?”
Sage allowed the vibrations of the freighter to reverberate through all the human parts of her body. “Not anymore,” she said. Then she held Elisha tightly, wondering what the girl’s frightened heartbeat might’ve felt like against her forearm if it weren’t made of metal.
CHAPTER TEN—CASSIUS
Legacy of the Ancients
Cassius stood next to ADIM outside of the Solar-Ark Amerigo, watching as the other androids meticulously transported heavy crates of processed Gravitum out its cargo hold and into the depths of Ennomos. Cassius couldn’t help but wonder what his favored creation might’ve been thinking at that exact moment. He was probably calculating exactly how many settlements throughout the Circuit could be provided with Earthlike conditions with that much Gravitum. Or that it was enough to build six more bombs similar to the one which split Kalliope open like an egg. Now that their test was complete, six appeared to be the amount needed for what they were planning.
Presently, one of the androids came walking out from the lift which led to the lab below. It was the one ADIM had attacked. Its head was completely deformed. One of its eyes flickered and was sunken within a fist-sized dent, but it was working well enough. A trio of humans limped in front of it, looking in much worse shape. They were a few of the survivors from the Tribunal freighters. They stared forward blankly as they were led along, like a row of battered animals.
“Finally,” Cassius said. “Come, ADIM. Now that the claws of the Tribune have been drawn from their poor souls, we will tell them of their heroic fate.”
“Yes, Creator.”
They made their way onto the Amerigo, across the massive cargo and up into a hall lined with cryo-chambers.
“Do you know where you are?” Cassius asked the three survivors. He then answered his own question before they could say anything. “This is the oldest working construct of humanity currently in existence. These very chambers were built more than half a millennium ago by the Ancients. Amazing isn’t it?”
None of them responded, but they nodded their heads timidly. Cassius placed his arm around the one nearest to him, a man with a beard so messy that it masked just how gaunt his face had grown. He led him in front of one of the open chambers.
“Load them in,” Cassius ordered.
The damaged android went to grab the man, but ADIM quickly stepped forward and stuck out his arm. He grasped t
he docile survivor by the collar and lifted him into the vacant cryo-chamber. ADIM was able to maneuver him like a limp doll. He then did the same with the two other survivors, a younger man and a middle-aged woman.
A smile tugged at Cassius’s lips from watching ADIM’s reaction. “What do you want with us?” the bearded survivor asked.
Cassius recognized him. It had been a year since ADIM had brought that specific survivor back from the first Tribunal freighter he raided. It was only fair to let the man know the reason why he’d been imprisoned for so long. The fact that he’d been a servant of the Tribune was only a part of it.
“You are going to help us complete the work of the Ancients. Do you know what the original purpose of these vessels was?” Cassius asked. The bearded survivor shook his head. “I assumed you wouldn’t. Most of the Circuit has forgotten, or simply doesn’t care, but throughout many of my wasted years serving on their council, I dedicated my time to learning as much as I could about our ancestors. I found fragments of old files wherever I could—buried in databases in the Circuit’s oldest settlements, in Conduit stations, and in the ruins of Ceresian cities after the end of the war. By the time of my exile I had pieced it all together. Of course the Tribune wouldn’t hear it.”
“You see,” he was so eager to finally be able share his findings with someone other than ADIM that he had to take a breath. “Sometime before the Earth fell, one of the Ancient’s maligned leaders had a dream of reaching the stars—of finding another world like Earth somewhere out in the great vacuum. He ordered the construction of a series of Solar-driven Ark Ships, his greatest invention. Most people ridiculed him for wasting so many resources, until Gravitum.
“While they were being built, some brave researcher discovered that the new element found within the mantle of the Earth could be used to generate substantial fields of artificial gravity when an electric current was applied. 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 worlds if they could build their own and have it simulate the conditions of Earth. They built the original Conduit Station above the moon to test it in vacuum conditions, and then selected asteroids that they could now mine for all their countless resources in the safety of Earth-like conditions. Eventually, the planet couldn’t handle all of the abuse, and billions were killed when it rejected us, spewing up molten rocks and cracking across the surface.”
Progeny of Vale Page 7