“I know I don’t, and I know we need you… That’s what makes this so hard to ask.” Talon swallowed hard. “But she needs you too, and like you said, you’re family.”
“Tal…”
“I’m dying, Julius. I feel it every damned day. Every time I wake up I’m sore all over. Every time I jog, my lungs are ready to burst out of my chest. But as long as I still have something left to give, I’m going to fight for her to have a better life.”
“Then stay with her. I’ll lead the men. You can have everythin’ I earn.”
“No. This is my mess.” Talon wrapped his hand around his friend’s neck before staring solemnly into his eyes. “This is the last thing I’ll ever ask of you, Julius. Everything I own, everything I make, I’ll leave to you and her.”
Julius wiped his face and let his forehead fall against Talon’s. He didn’t say anything for a few seconds, then cursed. “Fine, I’ll do it for you. But you need to make me a promise too.”
“Of course,” Talon said.
“When you do get back, we’ll leave this place. We’ll be pirates or smugglers out in the deep system, living the rest of our lives the way we were always meant to.”
“Taking the Circuit for all it’s worth?”
Julius sniveled a response. Talon embraced his closest friend, squeezing as hard as he could manage around the giant man. “Thank you, Julius. I wouldn’t trust her with anybody else.”
He backed away so that they were at arm’s length. He wasn’t used to seeing his tremendous friend so somber. It seemed wrong. Julius did his best to smile.
“You ain’t givin’ me much of a choice here,” he said. “But we’ll see you soon anyway, so it don’t matter.” He pulled Talon back in and crushed him with another hug.
“I hope so,” Talon wheezed.
“Hope is for pussies.” Julius patted him on the back and nudged him toward his daughter. “You ain’t one.”
Talon laughed as Julius turned around and sat with his feet dangling off the promontory’s ledge. Talon had always known him to wear his emotions on his sleeve, so he’d let him have the moment alone.
“You two lovers done over there?” Vera commented, picking at her teeth with a long painted fingernail.
“For now,” Talon replied. He knelt in front of his daughter, who’d watched him closely for the entire approach. He wasn’t sure what the look on her small face meant.
“Hey, sweetie,” he said, cupping her cheek.
“Don’t leave, Daddy!”
Elisha burst into tears and buried herself in his chest, her tiny hands grabbing his wrists as if to hold him down. He threw his arms around her and pulled her close, nuzzling her hair, hoping her scent would rub off and stick with him.
“It won’t be long,” he said.
“I heard Julius saying you could die the other night,” she said. “I don’t want you to die.”
Talon ran his gloved fingers through her hair and met her gaze. “Julius was only exaggerating. You know him. A week or two tops and I’ll be back.”
“You promise?” She wiped her nose.
“Yeah,” he lied. “Yeah, I do. And you promise you’ll be nice to him while I’m gone?”
Her lips curled into a sinister little grin. “I’ll try.”
Talon laughed and hugged her one more time. “I love you, Elisha,” he whispered. “More than anything.”
“I love you too, Daddy.”
Talon did his best not to sob in front of her. He tenderly placed his lips in the center of her forehead and then quickly stood to walk away. Vera caught up with him and planted a kiss on his cheek. She said something, but he didn’t hear it. All his attention went to holding the tears back, and when he was far enough away, they began to flow unimpeded.
He traversed the series of bridges and lifts leading to his home without looking back, keeping his head down to avoid conversation. When he reached his shack, he pushed through the rickety door and switched on the faulty lights. Then Talon pulled an old storage container out from beneath his hammock.
Wiping away the dust, he placed his thumb against a reader at the top. There was an audible click as it unlocked. Inside lay a pulse-rifle with a holo-lens sight, an interchanging pattern of blue and gray coating the stock and barrel. A few cases of clips were stuffed against the side, and below it all was the composite-armor combat suit Talon had worn during his days serving the Morastus Clan.
He reached under the hammock again, this time dragging out a helmet. The smooth, convex visor was covered in grime. He spat in his glove and rubbed it down until he could see his reflection. His eyes were bloodshot, and his cheeks wet and dirty.
“Too late to turn back now,” he told himself, and then he reached into the container and pulled out his rifle.
23
Chapter Twenty-Three—Sage
Sage stood at attention at the bottom of a vertical hangar carved into a tremendous rock pillar. The entire shaft was intended only for the personal use of the Morastus clan and its affairs. A group of mercenaries in blue and gray were running a background check on the squad.
She wasn’t nervous. She had faith in the Tribune’s diligence in crafting her ID.
She looked to her left and right. There were ten other mercenaries including Vellish and Ulson, all of them surprised to find out whom they were working for. Little more than guns for hire, each of them wore battered custom suits of armor. Far from a cohesive unit.
She guessed from their noticeable edginess that they probably wouldn’t try to help stop her if she attempted to escape. If they were here, then, like her, they had checkered pasts. The Morastus guards across from her, on the other hand, would try.
Tinted visors gave them an air of mystery as they attempted being intimidating. Stationed amongst them were five useless androids armed with shotguns. She began to chart out an escape route. She figured she had just as good a shot of getting out as she did of being killed if things went sour. Not bad odds considering how deep she’d wound up undercover in only a few weeks.
The only important-looking man present stepped away from the nearby console and approached. “I must say, Talon put together a clean squad.”
She’d heard his name was Zaimur Morastus from Julius. Son of the leader of the troublesome Morastus Clan, which had been around since even before the New Earth Tribunal and remained a thorn in their side. His long blond hair fell to rest gently on the vibrant shoulder pads of his shirt, feathers bouncing with each of his haughty steps. A fearsome beast lurked at his side, its voracious black eyes moving across the line of mercenaries as if all it saw was a meal.
Sage was so distracted by the animal that she barely noticed Zaimur walking directly toward her until he was only about a meter away. She didn’t let it show, but she carefully positioned herself so that she would be able to deliver an incapacitating blow with her artificial arm if it came to that.
“One stunning woman,” Zaimur said, licking his lips as he reached up and affectionately ran his fingers through her hair. Her immediate response was to break his arm in half, but she restrained herself. “You could make a much better living away from all this violence.”
The beast began to sniff her legs. As it moved around her, baring the ends of its white fangs, she knew it was far more of a danger to her then the pampered Morastus prince.
“A shame to see such beauty go to waste,” Zaimur concluded.
“Not wasted!” Talon responded brashly before she could.
His sudden entrance was enough to earn her attention, and this time she didn’t look away. His armor looked as though it had endured a thousand battles, and he had a custom-painted pulse-rifle slung over his shoulder. In the other arm, he carried a helmet that matched the Morastus guards’.
His smoldering blue eyes glared forward with the sort of quiet confidence she’d only ever seen in the finest soldiers. He looked ready.
“We won’t fail you,” he said.
“And I hope you don’t,” said Zaimur.
He turned from Talon to appraise Sage one last time. He reached out and let the back of his long finger run down her cheek. Under any other circumstances she would have made sure her face was the last thing he ever touched, but again she restrained herself. “But it would be quite a shame to lose her.”
“Look who finally decided to show up,” Vellish remarked from the other end of the line. He gave Talon a friendly pat on the back and they embraced.
“Where’s Julius at?” Ulson asked. “Big man decide to sleep in?”
“He didn’t tell you? I sent him on another mission,” Talon said.
Vellish stepped forward, shaking his fist. “You’ve gotta be kiddin’ me,” he barked. “Right as we leave? Don’t tell me he chickened out.”
“Julius would’ve done anything to be here with us, but I needed him for something more important. Without it, all of this would be for nothing.” As Talon explained the situation, Sage could infer from the tone of his voice that he was hiding something.
Vellish sighed and returned to his position. “Just saw him last night,” he muttered. “You’d think he woulda told us.”
“Nobody wants to tell you anything,” Ulson said. Vellish elbowed him.
Talon laid one hand on each of their shoulders and offered a heartening nod. “You’ll see when we get back how crucial his role is,” he said. “He isn’t a fighter anyway, you both know that.”
That somehow seemed enough to make them both feel at ease. Sage then remembered how little she knew about Talon. All Julius had revealed was that he was a miner. But judging by how easily his reassurance comforted his friends, she figured there had to be something more to him than that.
“He’s a gentle giant.” Vellish snickered.
“I assume you’re all chatting about that mountain of a man?” Zaimur asked, reaching them along his line of inspection. The dog sniffed them one at a time, and only afterwards did Zaimur get any closer to them. “Good. He’s a hell of a miner.”
Finished with his assessment, he moved in front of the entire squad to address them as one. “The Morastus Clan values your service. Now, all of you except Talon onto the transport. You’ll find we’ve been more than generous providing weaponry.” He bowed his head and offered a haughty smile.
The guards came forward to lead Sage and the others up the ramp of a transport that could’ve been a century old. It had a wide, bulky hull sitting under notched wings and one flat ion drive. On the underside a collection of long chambers jutted out like knives.
Sage watched Talon talking with Zaimur out of the corner of her eyes. It looked like he was about to hand him something when she was nudged up onto the transport and they went out of view. The men on board fawned over a crate of guns. If only they’d ever seen a Tribunal armory. This was nothing. But it would have to do.
“Lucky bastard. They pay him a shitload more than us for workin’ that mech,” Vellish complained while he found his seat. “That’s why he’s not here.”
“He’s smart. Hasn’t got a death wish,” Ulson said as he made his way to the cockpit, swinging across each row of seats.
“You two girls gonna complain the whole time?” a mercenary with a scarred chin grunted.
The lot of them began to bicker as Sage found her seat. She’d spent a few weeks living in Julius’ shack. They hadn’t spoken much, but he was kind to her, offered water, and begged her to sleep in his comfy hammock while he took the floor.
He’d seemed excited enough to join their mission. Whatever was keeping him behind had to be more important than any of the men whining around her cared to consider. There was even a part of her that wished she’d said goodbye, Ceresian or not. Only a very small part.
Everyone quieted down immediately when Talon entered the ship, the ramp closing behind him with a snap-hiss. He moved to sit next to Vellish, directly across from Sage, and laid his rifle flat over his thighs. As he secured his restraints, he quickly glanced over at her. Sage didn’t even realize she’d been staring, but he must have. Some semblance of a smirk crossed his lips before he barked out, “Ulson! Take us up!”
The whole crew howled in unison until the whining of engines powering on drowned them out. Sage remained quiet. For the first time since arriving on Ceres, she began to doubt everything she was doing.
What if I don’t discover anything about the attackers? she thought. Then I’d be helping the Ceresians. The people who resisted the Tribune more than all others. And then it dawned on her. When they attacked the freighter, soldiers of her Tribune were going to try to kill her. It wouldn’t be the first time she would have to kill her own for the greater good—such was an executor’s duty—but never before in the guise of a Ceresian.
Her mind raced so fast it made her head hurt. She squeezed her eyelids to try to alleviate some of the stress, but when they reopened, they fixed firmly on Talon. A sinking feeling pulled at her chest while watching him fiddle with his rifle, as if her heart were slowly drowning in water.
Too late to turn back now, she thought to herself.
24
Chapter Twenty-Four—Cassius
“Cassius, I hope you have been able to make progress since we last saw each other?” Joran Noscondra asked calmly, though he wore a stern glare.
Cassius leaned over a large holoscreen displaying the Tribune. “A pleasure to see you as well, Joran,” he quipped. Joran was clearly not amused. “No time to waste, I see… I’ve updated the protocol. Your technicians should be able to override the old code on any ships you can get in contact with. Should whoever is committing these atrocities try again, the protocol will work as expected. You’ll have them dead in space.”
“That is excellent news!” Joran exclaimed. “Transmit your updates to the New Terrene Enclave, and it will be distributed to trusted engineers throughout the Circuit. With that in place, alongside covert operations at our end, hopefully we will catch those damned Ceresians in the act.”
“Glad to be of service,” Cassius said, before adding, “though you have hardly upheld your end.”
Joran’s makeup-covered brow knitted. “What are you talking about?”
“Random searches of Edeoria were not a part of the agreement. And I must say, Hand Belloth was less than courteous. Not nearly representative of the infallible Tribune.”
“Inspections are to be expected.” Joran’s expression betrayed his words. Cassius could tell by his sucked-in lips that he’d been left completely in the dark. “Your family has long governed Edeoria, but it is a colony of the Tribune. Remember that.”
“You think I don’t know that?” Cassius growled, slamming his hands on the edge of the console. “This was no ordinary inspection, Joran. I don’t need your people causing more unrest amongst mine. A gravitum leak is no small hazard.”
“Cassius…” Joran sighed and looked off to the side. “Because you fulfilled your end of the bargain, I will speak with Tribune Gressler.”
“Vakari,” Cassius corrected. “Her Hand or not, this reeks of him.”
Another sigh. “I’ll speak with them both.”
“Good,” Cassius said, readjusting his collar. “At least there is one member of your holy council who gives way to reason.”
“I will keep you apprised. Stay in contact until we’re sure the update works and we can run some long-range tests.”
“Of course.”
“Then as always, may the Spirit of the Earth guide your steps.”
The transmission cut out before Cassius could respond, but the conversation had gone exactly as planned. The changes would be worthless in helping to stop the true culprits, but it’d make the Tribune feel safer again, all while regaining him their favor.
He shut down the communications array and returned to the lower level of Edeoria: Shaft 23, a hop to his step.
It was deafeningly loud inside, with the plasmatic drill working tirelessly to carve through the crust of Titan. Cassius had brought back the mining bots from his last trip to Ennomos, and they were already re
outfitted for gravitum recovery, sent into the depths with ADIM.
He anxiously awaited their return, rocking back and forth from his heel to his sole. This was everything. The future of the Circuit he imagined was at stake. He hadn’t felt such exuberance in so long that it was almost too much to bear.
Just as he was about to go and distract himself with lesser business, he noticed the reddish glow of ADIM’s eyes. The android clambered up the side of the bottomless pit. Cassius hurried around the rail to get a better view.
His heart was either beating unfathomably fast or had stopped completely. Beads of sweat rolled down his forehead and back. His eyes darted in frantic search for the glow of raw gravitum, proving that Earth wasn’t as special as the Tribune claimed.
“Creator!” ADIM called out as loud as his vocal systems could manage. His arm rotated so that he could begin running sideways up the walls of the circular fissure. He sprang up onto one of the drill’s legs, twirling around it to build momentum, then launched himself to land beside Cassius.
“ADIM, is it there? Are we free of our shackles?” Cassius asked, unable to contain his excitement.
“The others are behind this unit,” ADIM replied. He stepped forward and his head sank toward his chest, a rare show of physical emotion. “This core, like Mars’, is without gravitum. This unit has failed.”
Cassius stared for a few seconds, then slammed his fists down against the railing hard enough to split a knuckle. “So Titan, as well, is not destined for more…” His head sank the same as ADIM’s. “It is the damned universe that has failed me, ADIM, not you.”
Cassius gazed hopelessly at the mining bots scurrying empty-handed out of the chasm. The drill was like a beating heart, expanding and contracting, hissing and wining, but it offered nothing. Another failure. Cassius found himself more distraught than he’d expected to be, but not surprised.
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