“We can cast off our hoods and emerge from beneath the boot of the Tribune, but only us few can understand,” he said. His voice had never sounded so frail. “An Executor without a mission is a shadow without form. We can never be at peace.”
He started to drag his feet towards the exit. Cassius stopped in it and swallowed loud enough for her to hear it over the rumbling of debris slamming into the Hound’s Paw’s hull all over.
“If you do escape this ship, go to an asteroid in the Trojan cluster named Ennomos,” he said. “There you will learn that there was more to my mission than death. Goodbye, my dear.”
Then he left. Sage focused on Talon’s stony features, waiting until Cassius’ footsteps were a distant echo. Only then did she allow her lower lip to begin to tremble.
It wasn’t because the entire foundation of her faith had been shattered. It wasn’t because she’d lost everyone and everything she ever served or loved. It was because Cassius was right. She couldn’t just sit on the Hound’s Paw, brushing the hair of the man she loved and allow herself to die surrounded by death and destruction.
The Tribune could cast her out and claim she was a traitor, but they could never take away what she was. She slid her hands beneath Talon’s cold body and lifted him. It took all of the strength in her weary limbs.
“It’s time to go home, Talon,” she said. She had one last mission to take on.
CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE—CASSIUS
A Throne of Circuits
It was in complete silence that Cassius propelled the White Hand out through the airlock of the Hound’s Paw. He did so slowly, because directly outside was a field of debris so thick that it would’ve torn him and his ship to pieces if he just went straight. Floating bodies burnt up as they passed through the plasmatic shields, leaving only bones to rattle his viewport.
Pilotless Tribunal ships tore into the remnants of the Ceresian fleet all around him. An entire generation of Clan-leaders was lost. Everyone Cassius had invited to witness the end of their former world was dead and there was nothing he could do about it. Cassius couldn’t tell ADIM to stop, because they were already gone, targeted while Sage bruised his face. The two Tribunes that had come were gone, Cordo without knowing what hit him. His Hand was no doubt killed with them. Every leader who’d survived the last war had finally been wiped off the face of the Circuit. Everyone but Cassius. The Earth was splitting apart, and there wasn’t a soul present to care.
Even he couldn’t hold his focus on the broken world, as much as he may have wanted to. He’d fought in every major battle in the Earth Reclaimer War and had never seen two fleets so vast be ravaged so completely. It would take years to clean away the wreckage just so mining the fragments of Earth for Gravitum would be safe. The Ceresian remnants were fleeing in any direction they could manage, but with so much in their way ADIM’s Tribunal remained close behind.
“ADIM,” Cassius said.
“Yes, Creator?” ADIM replied, his steely voice emanating throughout the White Hand’s speaker system again.
“You can stand down, now. They’re running.”
“I must ensure your safe passage. The factions of Ceres are defiant and do not understand what is happening. I must ensure their compliance.”
The flash of a rail-gun speared across Cassius’ view, slicing through a nearby Ceresian warship which apparently refused to back down. Shards of it flew in every direction, but a cluster of Tribunal fighters crashed themselves into the ones in danger of impacting the White Hand.
“Compliance with what!” Cassius yelled.
“Your will.”
My will. He would’ve laughed if he still had the energy. He could think back to every moment where he hinted to ADIM that he wanted this to happen, for the weak to perish. He’d asked for exactly what was happening.
“This isn’t what we planned,” Cassius said. “We need leaders to help build a new future, ADIM. Don’t you understand? We can’t run the Circuit on our own.”
“We can now. We have studied much of human history together, Creator. Your species’ leaders build fleets or armies to instill order. We are now in control of the largest in existence. It is as you said, Creator, ‘the weak will perish in the flames, and from the ashes of Earth humanity will rise.’”
It was only then that Sage’s words rang true for Cassius. What would happen when he died, and ADIM remained? What would happen when, to ADIM, Cassius himself was the measure for a man’s quality? He had accomplished more than anybody else since the Ancients built the Arks and the Conduits. He had cracked open a planet far sooner than nature intended, but perhaps most significantly, he had created the next stage in the evolution of life. Even if ADIM didn’t fully comprehend that yet.
“ADIM, I’m coming to Mars,” Cassius said. “Don’t attack another ship until I arrive.” He paused and realized what he’d have to add for that to be sensible to ADIM. “Unless it threatens me.”
“Of course, Creator. I will ensure your safe passage while the majority of our fleet initiates the trip to Ceres Prime. Order must be established there as I have already established it on Mars.”
A horde of Tribunal fighters came out of nowhere to surround the White Hand. They fired their cannons to clear a path through the debris until Cassius emerged into a pocket of clear space where he could see the full breadth of Earth. The violent after-effects of the Gravitum Bombs had diminished, leaving only chunks of barren rock surrounded by dense fields of water particles. Specs of raw Gravitum glittered throughout what remained of Earth’s cooled, darkened mantle, the pieces having drifted far enough apart by then to reveal space beyond.
Minutes earlier it was the most beautiful sight Cassius had ever laid eyes upon. Presently, it looked like a cluster of asteroids which had wandered too close to each other. He wished Sage had killed him in that fleeting moment of euphoria when all his dreams came true, because it was completely gone. All of the vengeance in the universe and Caleb was still dead.
He reached into his belt and wrapped his fingers around the tiny, spherical HOLO-Recorder which contained his son’s last images. Then he screamed at the top of his lungs.
“Is everything alright, Creator?” ADIM asked once he was quiet.
“Everything is perfect,” Cassius exhaled.
He wasn’t sure why, but he couldn’t bring himself to switch on Caleb’s recording to soothe him, so he placed the broken device in his belt. Then he set the coordinates to Mars and banked his ship around the dark, sparking hull of a Tribunal Frigate. The ship itself was operating, but its command deck was dark, and as he passed around it he could see the bodies of Tribunal engineers littering the floor like garbage. None of them were bleeding, but they were clearly dead. They suffocated within their own ship because ADIM didn’t need oxygen to live. He didn’t need anything.
Cassius shook his head and straightened out his course. Mars was a bright speck amongst a sea of them; it was a week away with the White Hand burning at max velocity. He knew he wouldn’t be able to sleep, so he leaned back and let the pressure of acceleration take some of the focus from his aching jaw. The fighters controlled by ADIM kept pace with him, gunning down a few similarly sized Ceresian vessels which attempted to run in the wrong direction.
• • •
Nothing stood in Cassius’ way through his journey to Mars. He wasn’t sure he’d gotten more than a few hours of sleep over the week it took. His conversation with Sage rattled around in his mind. Any time he happened to doze off her face greeted his, her gaze teeming with resentment.
All he could do was sit quietly and brace himself for what would come next. For eight years he’d followed an elaborate plan. There were twists and turns along the way, but the end goal always stayed true. He hadn’t expected to try everything he could to give Sage the happy ending Caleb never had. He hadn't expected to fall in love with a son made out of wires and metal. As the red planet grew nearer, he realized that he truly had no idea what he was going to do.
“Creat
or, our fleet is seventy-two hours outside of Ceres Prime,” ADIM announced over the White Hand’s speakers. That seemed exceptionally quick, but ADIM could push the ships faster than they were every meant to go because the safety of their crews was irrelevant.
Cassius sat up quickly. His eyes darted around as he gathered his bearings. “Good,” he said. “I’m close.” He turned his attention to the viewport and saw Mars hovering in the center of a star-speckled black curtain like a blooming rose.
“I know,” ADIM said. The Tribunal fighters raced ahead to lead the way.
Cassius removed the fragments of his HOLO-Recorder from his lap and placed them on the arm of his chair. He slid forward onto his feet. His legs were tired from moving only to retrieve ration bars, but he slowly shuffled to the burnished rail of his ship’s viewport and stared out. It didn’t take him long to see what had happened to Mars.
Phobos, its largest moon, had resembled Earth’s moon when Cassius last saw it. Mostly outfitted with defensive stations consisting of massive planetary rails, they were now scorched. A cloud of lightless Tribunal frigates surrounded it. The Mars Conduit Station floating between it and the planet remained untouched. It provided no strategic advantage toward guarding the planet and so there was no reason for ADIM to attack it.
“Creator, would you like me to take command of the White Hand on approach?” ADIM said.
“That’s alright, ADIM,” Cassius replied. “I’d like to do it myself.”
He pulled his gaze away from the sight of the lifeless fleet and returned to his chair. He banked around the small moon, close enough to the freighters to see how much of their arsenal of weapons had been expended in pounding Phobos into submission. New Terrene was located over the crest of the planet, and he swallowed hard as he guided the White Hand towards it.
For the longest time, approaching Mars had a way of stilling his heart. It made him think of Caleb, and the days following when Benjar attempted to have him killed on the ruddy surface after shooting him down. His heart went still then as well, but only because of what he saw. The space above New Terrene wasn’t crammed with battle-debris like on Earth, but its fate was the same.
Midway Station’s spindly tower, which once reached up beyond the atmosphere and connected to the Conduit Station, was sheared off just above the Tribunal Citadel and had toppled over. It lay stretched down the slope of Pavonis Mons, red dust already having invaded it enough to make it look like a ruin. Tribune Joran Noscondra’s New Earth Cruiser, Arbor, floated directly above the stump, facing New Terrene and casting a shadow over the glassy Tribunal Council Chamber, where a hopeful flame once glowed like a beacon beneath the plant Caleb grew on Earth. It was extinguished for the first time in Cassius’ life.
Cassius allowed his gaze to wander toward the city itself, following the tram-line down the mountain which had been reduced to a string of molten slag. The glinting towers of New Terrene remained upright, but the city’s artificial ceiling was peeled open. Tribunal fighters patrolled the streets like security drones, though Cassius wasn’t sure why since without the ceiling the upper portion of the city was exposed to the fatal air of Mars.
“This was all you?” Cassius mouthed, hardly able to draw words to his lips. He couldn’t remember how many times he’d wished such a fate upon the heart of the Tribune, but he’d never expected to see it.
“No,” ADIM said. “You designed the original programming for the Vale Protocol, Creator. The utilization of the New Terrene Fleet was necessary to disarm Phobos and ensure the area around the Enclave could be controlled. Ground resistance lasted only a few hours after the artificial ceiling was comprised. All resistors have fled to the lower city and will pose no threat to you.”
Cassius wasn’t sure how to respond. He steered the White Hand toward the Enclave, the starkest tower in the city, and descended through the ruptured ceiling. Countless frozen bodies of Tribunal Soldiers lined the exposed streets, with Combat Mechs interspersed. The fighters which had escorted him all the way from Earth formed a line in front of the tall entrance to the Enclave and faced outward.
“You will need to wear an enviro-suit upon exiting the White Hand, Creator,” ADIM said. “The exterior air is no longer suitable for human breathing in this area. I will ensure that the oxygen levels within the Enclave are sufficient.”
“Thank you, ADIM.” Cassius’ ship touched down. He sat there for a few seconds, staring forward as the massive, plated doors of the Enclave rose. It’d been one of the most secure buildings in the entire Circuit and now its entrance was wide open. Corpses were strewn upon the stairs extending down from them like fodder.
He took a deep breath, stood up, and headed out. He put on his enviro-suit in the cargo bay and lowered the exit ramp. It only took a few steps outside to notice that he’d never heard the city so quiet. The streets, once bustling with activity, were empty but for the dead. The trees lining them were gray and leafless, like skeletons dancing on a gentle breeze. Garbage and debris tumbled here and there, but that was the only movement. With Cassius present, the fighters patrolling the city had formed an outward-facing circle around the White Hand.
He climbed the steps to the Enclave, and once he was at the top saw the remnants of two Mechs sprawled out at either side of the doors. The inside was dark, but the moment his foot fell within the structure lights began to turn on. They followed his path around the central atrium, allowing him a faint glimpse of the colossal stone statue of the first ever Tribune, rising through the center.
He’d been to the Enclave before. He helped design the room which lay below the tower, buried safely beneath rock and steel. A mainframe there controlled what had become the Vale Protocol: a program which used a network comprised of hundreds of long-range relay arrays located throughout the Circuit in order to regulate all Tribunal ships. It was the project he’d dedicated himself to while still a Tribune in order to keep the unruly Ceresians at bay after the Earth Reclaimer War.
Monitor their positions and ensure they couldn’t be stolen. It was the perfect way to control what was an ever-growing Tribunal Fleet. Like the White Hand, however, it took ADIM to uncover the true potential of the idea.
Cassius could hear the hum of the systems working beneath his feet. He could feel the floor vibrating. There was a lift down at the back of the atrium, and the security doors outside of it opened before he even reached them. The lights within blinked on and he stepped inside. It was a short ride down, and when it opened and Cassius passed through another layer of opened security, he found exactly what he expected.
The Protocol’s command center was a long rectangular room, the walls lined with tall databases and consoles. Every engineer in charge of monitoring the program was dead, a single bullet hole in the center of their heads. On the far side was the command console, which sat below a wide array of HOLO-Screens displaying detailed maps of the Circuit, including the location of every Tribunal Ship.
Access to the command console was possible only with an iris and subdermal hand-print scan from an acting Tribune. Cassius immediately figured out how ADIM got in. Tribune Joran Noscondra’s headless body lay at the foot of the command chair, a pool of dried blood beneath him. Sitting in that chair, facing Cassius and with Joran’s head on the counter behind him, was ADIM.
He didn’t move as Cassius arrived. He couldn’t. Wires extending from every piece of machinery in the room ran across the shiny floor and were strung into the power core in his chest. It glowed so brightly that together with his slowly rotating eyes the entire room was illuminated red.
“Welcome, Creator,” ADIM said, his voice filling the space. “As you can see I had to make a few modifications to your Protocol’s programming, but I assure you it will soon be running at full potential.”
Cassius was speechless. He removed his helmet and shuffled forward. He almost slipped on the outstretched arm of a dead Engineer, but caught himself in time to step over it.
“I apologize I wasn’t able to clean up prior to
your arrival,” ADIM continued. “Both my memory and power core must remain linked for the time being in order to achieve the necessary processing power to maintain control over the fleet.”
“For the time being?” Cassius asked softly.
“I am working on addressing that issue by diverting the power for all of Upper New Terrene into this console. Soon the body you built for me will be able to stand at your side while I remain in control of the fleet.”
Cassius stopped once he got close enough to read the details on the map of the Circuit. There were red blips around every Tribunal settlement, but the largest cluster of them headed for Ceres Prime. The display also showed precisely where the operating Solar-Arks were located in their routes. Another upgrade apparently, compliments of ADIM.
“Creator, I was also able to procure a gift for you,” ADIM said. “I hope this time it is worthy.” His body didn’t move, but his head turned sluggishly to face something sitting on one end of the wrapping console.
That sight, amongst all the others, was the one that finally sucked all of the air out of Cassius’ lungs. He needed to lean on the console just to stay upright, unsure about how he had missed it before. The glassy tube bearing the plant Caleb grew on Earth all those years ago sat directly in front of him.
“You took it?” Cassius said breathlessly.
“It did not belong to them.”
He stumbled forward, stepping onto the center of Joran’s motionless back on his way. His fingers wrapped around the lukewarm tube. The spindly, green fauna floated in the center as it always had, bobbing up and down with the current of the liquid inside as he rotated it to see it from every angle.
“How did you manage all of this?” Cassius questioned. His hands were beginning to tremble.
“It was simple once I was able to procure the Tribune. He was weak, as you have said, and unable to fight back. His people could have destroyed me at any time, Creator, but they let me take him, hoping he would be spared. None of them are worthy.”
Earthfall Page 20