He remembered what his father used to tell him when he was a boy. How in the early days of the Circuit, when humanity’s continued existence hung by a thread, settlers arrived to colonize the moons of Saturn.
It was an exciting time for Earth’s survivors, when worlds such as Titan and Enceladus with water sources were to be surveyed directly. There was hope that perhaps humans could one day live in such places without enclosure, or even that life itself might have lain dormant beneath the surface.
But, like most discoveries throughout the age of the Circuit, good news was an unwelcome guest. From Venus to Pluto, no worlds were suitable for men to walk. Not even the tiniest microbial organism was found.
“Creator, this unit has arrived undetected,” ADIM’s voice announced through Cassius’ comm-link.
Cassius had been watching the sky with the intention of trying to spot the Shadow Chariot arriving, but apparently, his gift to ADIM had slipped right by him. It pleased him. Despite Joran Noscondra’s endorsement, the frequency of Tribunal patrols around Edeoria had increased in recent days. From her citadel on the nearby moon, Enceladus, Nora Gressler was the overseer of Saturn, and Cassius knew Benjar Vakari was coaxing her to keep an eye on him.
The time hadn’t yet arrived for them to discover ADIM’s existence. The construction of all androids was forbidden by Tribunal Law. They were considered “cheap imitations of life” that could never feel the presence of the Spirit of the Earth. They were considered abominations.
“ADIM, I’ll meet you in the docking bay,” Cassius responded before exiting the viewing terrace back into his bedroom.
An oversized bed rested in the corner. The silken, red sheets were pulled taut as though it had never even been used before. Other than that, the room was empty. There were no pictures on the walls, no furniture or trinkets. Just how Cassius liked it.
He moved into the hall outside, lined on either side with holographic busts of his ancestors. Two shallow troughs of water ran beneath the podiums, the water still as stone.
When he arrived at the corner of the next hallway, he was surprised to see ADIM. The docking bay was at the other end of the compound, but there ADIM was already, his eyes spinning rapidly.
If only listening to ADIM’s voice, it was almost impossible to tell the connotations behind his words, but Cassius had learned that the manner in which the smaller lights rotated around his red eyes was an indicator. He hadn’t designed him that way, but it happened, nonetheless.
The faster they spun, the more tirelessly his processors were working to fully comprehend the situation. The slower, the opposite. But there were thousands of variations in between, maybe even millions. A happy accident. He wasn’t always sure, but Cassius imagined what he saw presently to be vexation.
He approached slowly, and ADIM remained still. He was fixated on a solid door that seemed unspectacular. There were no words on the metal, but through it, a shaft descended to an underground lab in the depths of Titan.
Cassius had forbidden ADIM from ever seeing the contents of that lab, where he claimed all the recorded memories of Caleb resided. In truth, it was where heartbreak drove him to build ADIM. Where the mechanisms required to construct more, similar androids remained very operational. And once born, no living being could return to the womb.
“This unit would have desired to meet the creator’s son,” ADIM stated without looking away from the door.
Cassius made a concerted effort to ignore the comment. “ADIM, are you alright?”
He placed his hand on the android’s back to guide him away from the door. It wasn’t the first time he’d caught ADIM standing before the one place from which he was prohibited. Cassius wasn’t sure if it was frustration that drew him there. He wasn’t even sure if ADIM could truly be frustrated. Instead, he often figured it was the same type of curiosity that draws a child to defy what he’s told to do simply to gauge the consequences.
“Yes, Creator.” He turned toward Cassius. His face remained expressionless but for those stirring red eyes. “This unit was merely curious as to whether a son, by definition, must be human?”
Cassius pulled ADIM away and they began walking down the hall. “What do you mean?” he asked, unsure why his tone suddenly bore a hint of apprehension.
“Before losing transmission within Earth’s atmosphere, the Creator implied that this unit may be a son, as Caleb Vale was to you.”
Cassius took a moment to consider his response. He’d have to be more careful with what he said around ADIM. Sometimes I forget how malleable the mind of a juvenile is, whether flesh or metal, he thought.
“Biologically, no,” he answered. “But we humans are so much more than meat and blood. A son, you cannot be, but my child, yes, you are.”
“But not like Caleb,” ADIM inferred as they turned into the hall of holographic busts.
“You may not have been birthed from a womb, ADIM, but I created you nonetheless. I loved Caleb more than I can ever convey—”
ADIM stopped moving, and the abruptness of it made Cassius forget his train of thought. The android stared at the tall viewport at the end of the passage, the holograms of Cassius’ ancestors lined up down his peripheries.
“Do you love…” ADIM held out his hand and rotated it to examine both sides. “This unit?”
Struggling to fight the tightness in his throat caused by talk of his son, Cassius turned to ADIM and offered the only answer he could think of. “I plugged you in. I am your Creator. No mere word can express my devotion to you.”
“Is that what love is?” ADIM’s eyes began to spin more rapidly than Cassius had ever seen them before.
How can I explain such a thing? Cassius wondered. It didn’t take long for him to realize that he couldn’t. How could he define an emotion so powerful that it stirred up tears and blood and war without relent? An emotion so profoundly… human. He settled on the truth.
“As best I can define it, ADIM, yes,” he said. Then he turned to place his hand on the podium that bore the holographic bust of his father, Nilus Vale. “All I know is that the significance of blood is a man-made conception.”
“A man can feel love for whomever he chooses,” ADIM said categorically.
“Or whom he chooses not to.” Cassius sneered as he steered his gaze away from his father.
“Did you not love your creator? Your biological father?” ADIM used his holographic camouflage to cover himself in the likeness of Nilus Vale.
“I remain indifferent,” Cassius said, the bitterness in his tone betrayed words he thought he meant. “I can’t say that I hate the man, only that he was unworthy of this great gift our ancestors left for us. When the Tribune arrived to occupy Titan, when they came with their massive fleet before the height of the Earth Reclaimer War and demanded our unwavering patronage, my father handed over this place without so much as lifting a gun.”
“This unit has learned much of the war from you. Considering the size of the Tribunal fleet, that would appear to be the proper course. Probability of victory was minimal.” ADIM deactivated the projection of Nilus and leaned forward over the bust. He extended his index finger through it, the tiny pixels of light splaying around it and fizzling.
“A human does not simply lay down his rifle and kneel before his enemies without a fight. That was the day I witnessed the cowardice of my father. Titan died that day. It became just another righteous arm of the Tribune… and so did I.” Cassius sighed and patted the altar of the effigy a few times. The memories alone were enough to make him weary. “Once we see our parents’ failures, there is no room to remain a child. So I chose to serve those strong enough to take all that he had, and I didn’t see him again until his body was burning to ashes, rejoining the Spirit of the Earth, or whatever it is the Tribune calls it these days.”
“Is this why many of the humans aboard the Tribune vessels combated this unit?” ADIM asked. “They must have known death was inevitable, yet they too raised their weapons.” His head twisted aroun
d so far it sent a chill up Cassius’ spine. He’d killed many men by snapping their necks. Too many.
“We are often not rational beings,” Cassius said. “The best of us can balance that emotion to use it as both a shield and a pointed edge. It has taken me a long time to learn how, and I realize now that my father’s cowardice may also have saved countless lives. But at what cost? The culture of Titan died with his memories, as it has long escaped mine. A miraculous victory, or even a narrow defeat, and our names could have been celebrated for centuries to come.”
Cassius paused. The silence from his creation could only mean that either he understood, or was waiting to process more information before judgment. “One day my bust is meant to be featured in this hall amongst my ancestors,” he continued somberly. “To be seen by nobody. I won’t have it.”
“The Creator does not wish to be remembered?” ADIM asked.
“I do,” Cassius affirmed, the words coming out harsher than he’d intended. He moved down the hall until he was beside the holographic bust of Caleb Vale. Just looking at the static face of his son made his blood boil and the hairs along his arms stand on end. He turned back to ADIM. “But I want to be remembered as more than a hologram or a painting on the wall. I want them never to forget.”
“This unit will never forget.” ADIM moved in front of the bust and assumed Caleb’s youthful, deadpan identity. “This unit will make sure all humans remember.”
Cassius grasped ADIM by the wrist. “We will together,” he said earnestly, his hand trembling as he stared into the face his creation wore. His pulse quickened.
ADIM quickly deactivated his camouflage emitters. Cassius let go and staggered backwards, as if snapping from a deep stupor. He cleared his throat before turning ADIM around and heading back toward the docking bay.
“Now, enough talk,” he said. “Let me show you the fruits of your work on Earth.”
13
Chapter Thirteen—Talon
The tops of Talon’s feet scraped along the coarse ground as he was hauled through a tunnel somewhere in the depths of Ceres Prime. Bright lines of pain shot up his torso, and a dull ache pulled at his sides every time he breathed.
The men carrying him had hardly asked anything during their interrogation. They knew he had nothing of value to offer, but a few more cracked ribs were an easy way to get a message across.
Talon tried to focus on the confusing mass of dark shapes shuffling by, but his vision was too blurry. Only when the rocky floor transitioned to smooth metal did he know he was almost to his destination.
He squeezed his eyelids a few times to try to sort out his pounding head before he was shoved roughly into a seat. Hunched over, his bound hands resting between his legs, he squinted up through a mess of tangled hair to see a familiar face.
“Talon, Talon, Talon,” Zaimur Morastus said with a sinister delectation. “After all these years you’re right back where you started.”
Zaimur was handsome, with a youthful face that didn’t bear a single scar or blemish—rare for a man on Ceres. His feathered blond hair fell below the nape of his neck. Hungry blue eyes protruded against his pale, asteroid-born skin.
“Zaimur… did you really need to beat me half to death first?” Talon grumbled, licking some dried blood from his lower lip.
“It’s the only way some men learn.” Zaimur grinned and nodded, signaling the two guards flanking Talon to lower their weapons and step to the side.
Talon didn’t know much about Zaimur personally, only that he liked to flaunt his riches for all of the Circuit to see. Beautiful women sat on either side of him on a plush couch, fondling the top of a long tunic stitched with a colorful assortment of golden yellows and blues. A pronged collar swooped up from his neck and around each shoulder, like feathers of lore.
Even as the women caressed his neck, he paid them no heed. It was like they were mere props, a stage setting to intimidate all brought before him.
He kept his gaze fixed on Talon, his hand tenderly stroking the snout of a long-legged dog sitting by his feet. Talon had seen only a few dogs in his time, but never a specimen so strikingly laced with muscle. Few species of life had escaped Earth besides man, and the beast was probably worth an entire mining colony to the right buyer.
“Magda is beautiful, isn’t she?” Zaimur ran his hand over one of the dog’s pointed ears. He then planted a kiss on the top of her lean head. “Won her from a nasty pirate out by Uranus. Bastard put up quite a fuss, but she has a tremendous appetite.” He grabbed her beneath the jaw, causing the beast to bare her fangs.
A shiver shot down Talon’s spine as he instinctually fidgeted his hands, irritating the binding on his wrists. If the Morastus prince’s reputation wasn’t exaggerated, then it was very likely he could wind up as dinner if he wasn’t careful.
“I’ve never seen one this close before,” Talon said, maintaining composure even though he couldn’t seem to look away from Magda’s teeth. “She’s incredible.”
A severe look washed over Zaimur’s face. “So serious you are!” He broke into laughter and sank back on the couch, allowing the women to continue their massaging. “I would never let Magda eat your diseased body.”
Talon released the mouthful of air he hadn’t realized he’d been holding. “If you’re not going to kill me, then why am I here?”
Zaimur grabbed a glass goblet out of one of his servants’ hands. As he brought it to his lips, the cubes of ice inside rattling, the pungent aroma of real alcohol stung Talon’s nostrils. It almost made him tear up a bit.
“Bavor may have been a slow-witted oaf,” Zaimur began in a surprisingly calm manner, “but he was as strong as a machine and ignorant enough to want for nothing. Perfectly suited for the mines. I don’t care why you killed him. I don’t care if he deserved it. He was an asset to my clan, my father’s clan, and you will make us whole again.”
“If it’s money you want, I can take another shift, or—”
Zaimur cut him off. “We have enough miners. Hell, if it were up to me, we’d have replaced all of you with bots if they were good for anything but looking intimidating or working bars. Damn Tribune’s cull set us back a century.” He sighed, swished his drink around, took a whiff, then a long sip. “Anyway. On your way over I was thinking maybe we could throw you into the arena and see if the great Talon Rayne of my father’s memory is more than just a tall tale. But I fear you’re too worn to be of any use down there.”
“He still talks about me, eh?” Talon sat up, trying to demonstrate some semblance of the bravado he’d wielded those many years ago.
“My father is barely a shell of his former self. A husk, waiting to die. But know that if you weren’t so highly regarded for your past services to him, then you would have been spaced on Kalliope.”
“You’ll have to extend my gratitude.”
Zaimur almost choked on his drink as he snickered. “You were once an enforcer for my father, head of the wealthiest clan of the Ceresian Pact. Respected. Was the child of some worthless tramp really worth sacrificing all that you’d earned?”
“She is,” Talon said firmly.
“You could have sold her off. Heck, I’d pay. She comes from good stock.”
“Don’t you dare—” Lurching forward as he growled, Talon was promptly slammed back into his seat by the guards.
Zaimur placed his drink down with a loud clank and smiled. “There you are. I knew the old Talon couldn’t be too far gone.”
“If you hurt her!” Talon pulled on his bonds so hard that it made his wrists sting.
“Relax. I don’t know what kind of monster you think I am. To harm a child? Tsk-tsk. I merely wish to offer a proposal that will end this conflict. One I believe can benefit both of us.”
Talon let his muscles slacken. “I’m listening.”
“I assume you’ve heard of the attacks on at least half a dozen Tribunal freighters passing through Ceresian space?”
“Just rumors. Nobody could say for certain if i
t was true, or who did it.”
“That’s precisely the problem.” Zaimur stood, the women on either side of him feigning like they wanted to pull him back. He strolled over to a holographic map of the Circuit projected over a table nearby.
“Those ships are tracked and protected in a way I’ve understood couldn’t be broken,” he said. “Yet no matter who I pay, nobody can seem to tell me where exactly on this Ancients-damned map the freighters were taken. Circuit gravitum shipments are hardly enough to keep the generators up and running sufficiently these days. The Tribune wants our ore and water, sure, but nowhere near as much as we need the element they control on Earth. Do you know what it’s like to live in hyper-low g for too long?” He swiped his hand across his face. “Your vision goes, if your bones and muscles don’t go first.”
Talon’s mind immediately jumped to the worst possible conclusion. “It sounds like you’re going to ask me to start another war.”
“War has been brewing again since the Tribune won Earth almost three decades ago, whether any of the clans want to admit it or not. But no, that’s not it.” Zaimur stopped and pointed to a location on the map, along the far reaches of the asteroid belt. “We have discovered a small asteroid here. It is rich in iridium ore, which can help protect our ships should it come to war. I need the gravitum stored on a Tribunal freighter to help establish a facility there.”
“You want me to rob a personal transport of the Tribune?” Talon’s eyes widened, though he wasn’t sure whether it was out of excitement or dread. There was a time when he would have jumped at the chance to take on such a mission—a suicide mission in all likelihood.
“In so many words… yes.” Zaimur whistled and Magda ran to his side, her nails clacking along the floor.
Talon’s chin fell to his chest and he exhaled. “I left that life.”
“Yes, I know. To live longer, because every child should grow up with their father.” Zaimur approached Talon, then lifted his hand to inspect it. He removed Talon’s glove, revealing the faint, abnormally blue veins branching over his hand like a strand of twisted vines.
The Circuit: The Complete Saga Page 10
