He grasped Cassius’s hand. “Cross me, and it’ll be your word versus mine,” he said, refusing to let go. “An execution would be a kindness compared to what I’d do to you.”
As he held Zaimur’s hand, Cassius placed his other on ADIM’s arm. The android’s gaze hadn’t shifted from Zaimur for even a moment during their conservation. Cassius smiled. “Let’s win a war together then.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR—ADIM
Collective Mind
It was with reservation that ADIM watched his Creator walk away beside Zaimur and a host of guards toward his mock-execution. He’d never before been asked to trust another human, especially one who was so hard to read. As Zaimur spoke, his pulse was constantly racing, and his facial gesticulations suggested uncertainty. He didn’t seem worthy. But Cassius informed ADIM that everything was going smoothly. He’d outlined the plan step for step, and ADIM knew that his plans never failed. Still, it was difficult for him not to follow Zaimur and Cassius just to make sure.
Instead, he set his camouflage to again take on the image of a Morastus henchman so that he could easily traverse their compound. His instructions were simple. He was to bring about the death of Zaimur’s biological father in a manner that made it seem accidental or natural. Beyond that his method didn’t matter. So long as it couldn’t be traced back to Cassius or Zaimur.
ADIM’s initial idea was to pose as an Executor and cast the blame on the Tribune. It seemed like the logical choice being that Cassius wanted to further escalate the conflict between them and the Ceresians. He had seen a few of them in his time whose appearance he could choose to emulate, but none were a better fit than Sage Volus. The similarity of her arm would make him appear even more genuine, and her abilities in a fight would surely have made her capable.
There were a few issues, however. In order for her to access the heart of the Morastus Compound she would have to be wearing a disguise. Trying to replicate two layers of camouflage simultaneously would increase the odds of video surveillance picking up on ADIM’s true form. Another was that the identity of all Executors was a secret even amongst the majority of Tribunal forces. In order for one of them to be identified they’d have to be captured, and ADIM’s first order of business on Ceres was to avoid detection. Even when he considered all the ways around those concerns, there was still an inherent level of risk. He knew he could generate a better option.
By the time he reached the outside of Zargo Morastus’s private quarters, he was masquerading as a portion of the rocky wall. Two guards were stationed outside of the circular hatch, gripping pulse rifles. Despite him being only a few dozen feet away they had no clue he was there.
Their armor is weak at the neck, tarnished after centuries of shoddy refurbishment, ADIM considered. Two shots will remove them silently. If violence was to be his route, there was no doubt he could make it past them and then hack the locking mechanism on the hatch. Even their weapons were a step down from what he’d faced amongst the Tribune.
He spent a few minutes observing them before the hatch opened and an android came strolling out. It looked similar to all of the others he’d seen on Ceres, but he recognized it from the assembly room. It looked like the others, but this one had a distinct dent on its chassis. From what he’d observed it always stuck close to Zargo.
As the android walked by ADIM, its head turned to aim its blank, white eyes directly at him. It didn’t stop moving or say anything, but only once it was entirely by did its head return to a straightforward position.
All they require is the will of the Creator, ADIM thought as he followed the android. He quickly rifled back through Gaia’s recordings, which were now a part of his own memory, and watched Cassius’s pale fingers pick apart an android’s memory core. He observed how everything went together, and, after comparing it to how he knew his own parts were composed, he was starting to understand exactly how the Ceresian androids worked. They were relatively simple.
He stalked it down a series of intersecting tunnels to a nearby cargo hold. There were three Morastus men in the vicinity, but none of them appeared important. They glanced up at the android and relaxed. ADIM remained in his rocky guise.
“Old man needs his juice?” one of the henchman snickered. He had a beard.
“Much as any of us do,” the one sitting nearest to ADIM responded. He snapped his fingers impatiently and signaled to the stack of small, rectangular metal cards the man was holding. They had foreign inscriptions on them that ADIM didn’t recognize. The bearded henchman emphatically placed down the ones he held in his hand the two others groaned as if they’d just been shot.
While they played their strange game, the android walked over to a crate nestled against the back of a nook. It rigidly bent over at its hip joints and typed a code into the pad on the lid. It then popped open, the vapors of freezing air pouring out over the side.
“You mind leavin’ one of those with us?” the bearded henchman asked.
The android emerged from the crate holding two bottles of dark, golden whiskey and turned to face him. “Forgive me, but these are the personal property of Mr. Zargo Morastus,” it said politely before continuing on its way.
He smirked. “Of course. Just messin’ with you bot. Wouldn’t dream of it.”
The nearest henchman reached out and slapped him in the shoulder. “Ya know he records everything ya dumb fuck.”
“Just playin’ around is all,” he groaned and rubbed his shoulder. “One day maybe he’ll let us get a taste of the good shit.”
“Aye, when he’s dead.”
“Won’t be long—”
The guard was cut off when he was smacked on the arm even harder than the first time. ADIM ignored the rest of their bickering, instead turning to get a head start on the android as it headed back toward Zargo’s quarters.
He hurried to find a spot in the tunnel that was hidden from surveillance measures and where there were no guards within earshot. He still would have to work as quickly as possible. The android approached, and ADIM waited amongst the rocks until it was so close that it turned to look at him again. He sprung out, wrapping his fingers around its head. The two bottles clanked against the rock, but didn’t shatter.
ADIM wasn’t sure if it would work, but using the data he’d collected only moments earlier, along with his experience tapping into the systems of Gaia aboard the White Hand, he began to take hold. Hundreds of hours of recorded memories coursed through him instantaneously. There would have been more, but the relatively simple core of the android only permitted a certain amount of extraneous storage beyond its primary programming. The unsophisticated design also allowed him to infiltrate every one of the android systems. Like the White Hand, its arms became his arms. Its sensors and visual receivers became his. It didn’t take long before he could step back and simultaneously see both his own frame, and that of the other android.
He lifted his hand, and it mimicked his motion. He tilted his head and it did the same. This continued until he was able to divide the two ambulatory systems and move the android completely on its own. It was tricky to master, but tricky to ADIM meant that he only needed a few seconds to gain a complete understanding. Before long the two metal bodies were two pieces of a single entity—a shared network of systems.
It was much like balancing on a single foot. With the proper amounts of his processing power allocated he could control them both without any adverse effects. He quickly estimated that it would take controlling roughly one hundred similar models to generate any noticeable hindrance to his original body’s systems.
In one spectrum of this newly formed neural network he controlled his new form to bend over and pick up the bottles. With another he camouflaged his main chassis with the rock again. Then they both continued forward. He couldn’t physically alter the android’s joints to make it move any faster, but he was able to improve certain aspects to allow it to run smoother.
It was a short walk back to the entrance into Zargo’s chambers, enou
gh time for him to quickly conceive of even more efficient ways for his new body’s parts to coordinate their motions.
“Finally,” one of the guards outside grunted. “Boss’s been callin’ for you. Hurry up.” He entered the code into the keypad on the hatch and it peeled open.
ADIM’s main body remained outside, but his other went walking in until the entrance resealed. The hollow was spacious, and the metal plating that lined the walls was in better shape than most of Ceres.
Zargo was lying down in the corner of the room on a bed wide enough to fit five humans side by side. He was hooked up to a respirator unit. The unit was mobile, but ADIM hadn’t seen it with the Morastus Leader in the assembly hall. That fact, in addition to the fact that his quarters were privatized with no viewports looking out and no surveillance inside, made it clear that Zargo wanted to hide the true nature of his condition from anyone who wasn’t worthy of entering his bedroom.
“There you are bot,” Zargo said, coughing. “I was worried I’d have to celebrate with nothing but water.”
A tall HOLO-Screen wrapped around the foot of the bed, displaying what appeared to be a massive, sunken arena. Thousands of people stood around the rim of it, cheering noisily.
“Forgive me,” ADIM responded through the androids vocal emitters, mimicking the polite manner with which it had spoken earlier.
“Fine. Fine. Just fill me up.”
Zargo reached out with a frail arm. The loose skin along it was creased with countless wrinkles, but that wasn’t enough to hide the web of bright blue veins spreading over them. ADIM had never had the chance to see the effects of the Blue Death up close. Just holding up an empty glass had Zargo’s hand trembling and his lips quivering.
ADIM did as instructed. He opened up a bottle and used his clunky new limbs to fill up the glass. The android’s inability to bend at the right angles made it a fairly difficult task. Zargo coughed as he struggled to reel his arm back in and brought the full glass to his lips.
“I never thought I’d get to live to see this day,” he said after taking a long sip. “Cassius Vale, dead.”
The Creator will not die, ADIM thought, but said nothing. There was some commotion on the HOLO-Screen. Cassius strode out from a tunnel. His hands were bare and he was stripped down to his tight boiler suit. Physically he appeared like a fit human male, but his usually tidy hair was entirely gray. ADIM had never seen him covered in so much dirt.
“Looks better than I do, I’ll give him that,” Zargo chortled. “You don’t even know what I’m talking about do you? We’ve been waiting almost three decades for this. At last, today, Ceres triumphs.”
ADIM turned to Zargo and studied him. He had learned about the fatal disease crippling the man when he and Cassius initiated construction on the Gravitum Bomb. After that he was careful never to let his Creator expose himself to the raw element. It caused the rapid decay of muscle and eventually organ tissue. Zargo’s age only accelerated his condition, and judging by how often he squeezed his respirator against his mouth it seemed likely that his lungs were beginning to give out.
That was where ADIM decided he would hit him. All he would have to do was hold onto the respirator while providing a slight pressure on Zargo’s chest and he wouldn’t last long. He could do it without leaving behind any signs of struggle or bruising. Zargo wouldn’t be able to put up much of a fight anyway. It would look natural, and it seemed unlikely that any of the Morastus followers would study the corpse of a fatally sick man to see if there was foul play.
Zargo took another swig of his drink and then placed the glass down. He leaned as far forward as his rigid neck-joints would allow in order to focus on the HOLO-Screen. Ten Ceresian fighters stepped out into the arena across from Cassius, driving the crowd into a frenzy. As long as ADIM accomplished his task, Zaimur promised that Cassius would come to no harm. Still, it was at that moment ADIM willed his main body to begin making the long trek toward that arena. He didn’t trust the Morastus Prince.
Simultaneously, ADIM moved Zargo’s servant android as close to him as possible. He shifted its knee and used it to pull the sheets on the bed tight over Zargo so that he wouldn’t be able to move. With one hand he pinched the tube feeding oxygen through the respirator mask and held it in Zargo’s mouth so that he couldn’t make a noise. As he did that he used another one of his hands to slightly press down on Zargo’s chest.
ADIM held the limbs in those positions. His new android body wasn’t particularly strong, but Zargo’s diminished muscles stood no chance against it. His attempts at flailing didn’t work. The sheets on the bed had him pinned as if he were trapped in a web. It didn’t take more than a minute before he suffocated and ADIM detected that his heart had stopped beating. The half-full glass of whiskey fell off of the bed, and the sheets went slack.
ADIM then had his second body take a step back and stand there as if nothing had happened. He dug through its memory, cleared out the recordings that would be incriminating, and patched them back together in an order which just showed the android returning to its post and staring forward as Zargo choked and died. When he looked back, Zargo laid there silently, his eyelids frozen open as he stared blankly at the HOLO-Screen where Cassius was about to begin his bout with Ceresian combatants.
CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE—TALON
To War
The Lakura warship, Lutetia, didn’t have the finest cabins, but Talon had experienced worse. The bunks were packed in against the rusty walls, with hardly enough room to stand. Tarsis could only shuffle sideways if he wanted to get anywhere. Not that there was any place to go.
It didn’t take long on board for Talon to remember that the Blue Death wasn’t looked upon fondly by people without an extensive education. Most of the fighters who weren’t higher-ups in the Lakura hierarchy were from the nether regions of Ceres Prime—down by the subterranean oceans where the gravity generators were faulty. They were lankier, paler, and spoke with a twang so pervasive that they could be difficult to understand. Similar to the Vergents but worse. Many of them thought that the Blue Death was contagious no matter how much they’d been told otherwise. Talon remembered thinking the same thing before he got it himself. So he and Tarsis remained in the very back of the cabin whenever they could, and kept to themselves whenever they couldn’t.
Presently, Talon sat in his top bunk, fiddling with the shitty Lakura rifle they provided him with. It was the only thing he could do to distract himself from watching the video of Elisha once more. Take it apart, put it back together, and hope it would work better.
He was about to start all over again when Captain Hadris, commander of the ship, announced that there was a transmission coming in from Ceres Prime. He ordered every one of the thousands of fighters on the vessel to report to the galley to view it. He claimed it would explain why Yara Lakura remained back on Ceres for the time being and would rendezvoused with them at Eureka post-battle.
Talon hoped he could just ignore the message and continue his work at making sure his gun actually fired when a Tribunal was standing in front of him. But Captain Hadris wouldn’t have it. He toured the bunks personally in order to ensure everyone got moving. He had full authority with Yara gone. His comrades appeared to hold him in great esteem, though Talon couldn’t imagine why. In all his days operating on Ceres he’d never heard the man, and he also knew that the Lakura were best known for skulking through shadows and planting bombs, not open battle.
Talon sighed. For better or worse he was with them now. Besides, after years away from being a henchman for the Morastus he’d lost his taste for holding grudges against the rival clans. They were all Ceresians after all, even if they were likely riding quietly toward their doom at the hand of the Tribune.
“Must be important, Captain coming down and all,” Tarsis said as he got up. He may have been on the bottom bunk, but it still took him a great deal of effort to squeeze out into the passageway.
“I’m sure it is,” Talon replied.
He held hi
s rifle up to the light and gave it one last look over. After deconstructing it at least a dozen times since the Lutetia set off, he decided it was finally ready for use, although he knew he’d probably change his mind after returning from the galley. Other than talking to Tarsis, who slept more often than not, it was the only thing he could do to distract himself from thinking about everyone he’d lost.
He hopped down from his bunk, catching a glimpse of the HOLO-Pad with Elisha’s final moments out of the corner of his eye on his way down. The short drop was enough to make his thighs throb with soreness. For whatever reason, holding a rifle had a way of making him forget that he couldn’t jump around like he was a young man anymore. The Blue Death was always careful to remind him.
“Better be,” Tarsis grumbled. “I was having a great dream.”
“Don’t you have enough of those these days?”
Tarsis patted Talon on the back. “When you’re as grateful to be waking up as I am, you start to appreciate them a little more. The good ones at least. Trust me, you’ll get there eventually.”
“Thanks for the reminder,” Talon groused. He started off across the seemingly endless rows of bunks, and only when he was halfway across the room did he realize that he’d snapped at Tarsis. He glanced back over his shoulder to see the clumsy Vergent struggling to keep up. He slowed down.
“I’m sorry,” Tarsis said once he was able to catch up. “I didn’t mean anything by it.”
“I know that. I’m glad you’re here.”
“And so am I,” Tarsis agreed. He motioned forward and they continued to make their way to the galley. “Better not to be alone in times like these.”
They entered the galley and were swept up in a raucous crowd. Fighters, both trained and conscripted, were pushing and shoving their way toward trying to get a better view of the HOLO-Screens located above the slop counters. It was too loud to make out what anybody was saying, but Talon thought he heard someone whisper, “Vale.”
Progeny of Vale Page 17