She didn’t look afraid. Her thin lips were drawn into a tight line and her eyebrows were raised. ADIM signaled the Shadow Chariot’s cockpit to open, and the viewport slid out beneath his fingers with a whoosh. The sound seemed to startle the child, but only for a moment.
“Are you from Ceres Prime, android?” she asked, her tiny soprano voice teeming with curiosity.
ADIM crept backward, surprised by the smoothness with which her words came out. Every other human besides his Creator whom he’d spoken with was only able to manage a stutter. They had all also been servants of the Tribune.
She may truly be worthy, he thought to himself.
“This unit was forged on the moon Titan,” ADIM responded. His voice was the perfect opposite of hers—cold and metallic. She didn’t back away when she heard it; she leaned closer.
“Titan? I’ve never been there.” She climbed up out of the seat and let her short legs drape over the side of the Shadow Chariot, swinging them back and forth. He wasn’t sure why.
“Do you have an identity, android?” she asked.
“This…” ADIM paused, feeling stumped for the first time in his short span of existence. Of all the millions of questions he’d ever considered, that was never one of them. Cassius had always designated him ADIM—an acronym for what he was. He had never questioned it. It simply was.
“To the Creator, this unit is known as ADIM,” he answered, the tiny red dots surrounding his eyes rotating rapidly as his processors whirred.
The girl pointed to herself. “To humans, this girl is known as Elisha,” she said proudly.
“This unit is ADIM,” he repeated, his eyes beginning to slow down. “ADIM.”
Elisha held back a giggle. “Hello, ADIM. Where are we?”
ADIM didn’t answer. He wasn’t used to being addressed by anyone but his Creator. However, he recalled Cassius recently saying, “It is time for you to reveal your existence to the Circuit.” As long as he didn’t reveal their location to her, he knew he was fulfilling Cassius’ will.
Elisha suddenly decided to slide down the hull of the ship. When she came to the edge, she shot off the slick surface. ADIM calculated her trajectory and, deciding that the potential for injury was too great, snatched her out of midair by the collar.
“You must not be damaged before the Creator returns.” He placed her down gently.
“You didn’t need to—” Elisha began disgruntledly, but the rest of her words died on her lips when she noticed the row of Tribunal freighters running down the center of the massive hangar behind ADIM.
“So many ships!” she shouted.
“Six,” ADIM said.
He started off toward the nearest one and she followed. They were different than when he’d first stolen them. New ablative metal plating gave the once bulky bodies of the ships a tapering shape. They looked like they were made to absorb damage and ram stations.
Each one was outfitted with new missile-launching ordnance and flak cannons beneath their command deck viewports. Most importantly, all the markings that would’ve signified them as Tribunal vessels were nowhere to be found.
“What are they for?” Elisha asked.
“They have already served their initial purpose,” ADIM said. “They will now serve as the Creator sees fit.”
The nearest freighter was raised on its landing gear, and Elisha’s small stature enabled her to sprint underneath it ahead of ADIM. She ran her hands over the smooth metal, marveling at all of its innumerable pieces—the burnished plates of metal, the reveals of wires and ducts over bright, blinking lights. Then she grabbed onto the rim of one of the ion drives poking out from beneath the back of the hull and tried to pull herself up to look inside.
ADIM plucked her off with one hand and placed her back on the ground. “Not in there,” he advised. “The ship is on standby.”
“Are we going to fly it?” she asked, looking up at him with big eyes and swaying back and forth excitedly.
Before he could respond, a familiar voice transmitted directly into ADIM’s head. He had been eagerly awaiting word from Cassius since he arrived on Ennomos.
“ADIM, I am close,” his Creator said, the exhaustion of a long trek through space evident in his tone. “I need you to clean out the hangar. Move the freighters to the aux wing.”
“It will be done, Creator,” ADIM replied, his thoughts conveyed directly to Cassius’ comm-link, wherever he was.
Elisha poked him in the leg. “Hello?”
“The Creator has informed this unit that each ship must be relocated from the main hangar.” ADIM ascended the ramp into the freighter.
“So we are flying?” She hopped along excitedly in his wake.
ADIM’s head twisted around far enough to accentuate his artificiality, but it didn’t seem to affect her. He glanced toward the ships’ engines. Exposure to them while powered on inside a contained environment could be hazardous. Then he turned his attention back down at her.
“Yes,” he said. “You must join this unit on the freighter for your safety.”
Elisha shrieked eagerly. She hurried up the ramp ahead of him, then waved him on. Her eyes pored enthusiastically over every little detail as she ran back and forth through the cargo hold. Unlike the exterior of the freighter, its insides remained in its banal, original state. Elisha followed the exposed circuitry running under the grated flooring as if she’d discovered new life or a new world.
From what ADIM had gathered about human sentiment, these freighters wouldn’t fall into the category of what could be deemed appealing. He’d watched Cassius admire the far superior White Hand in the same manner that Elisha was the freighter. He’d heard him call it beautiful.
The White Hand is a much more efficient vessel, worthy of the Creator, ADIM thought to himself. She will have to learn.
“This way, human child Elisha,” ADIM directed, stepping by her.
When they reached the command deck, Elisha bolted in, even more thrilled than she’d been earlier. Consoles in every direction glowed from holoscreens. The sweeping viewport wrapped overhead like an eyeglass, providing a clear view across the hangar and of the other ships.
Elisha raced to the captain’s chair, where the main command console was built into the armrest, and hopped up. The seat was discolored in a few patches from washing out blood.
“How do I help?” She glanced back at ADIM.
“This unit does not require assistance.” ADIM lifted her off the seat before taking it himself. He spread his long metal fingers over the command console and assumed control, manipulating the systems with his mind. The screen flickered. In no time, the ship’s engines flared to life.
“Where are we going?”
ADIM didn’t answer. He guided the ship up toward the ribbed ceiling of the hangar. Elisha stared up in awe, walking toward the viewport as the freighter slowly rose. It then shot forward and she grabbed onto the rail as tightly as she could. ADIM watched her head turning back and forth to catch glimpses of everything she could as they crossed the massive hangar.
Halfway through, something seemed to upset her. She faced ADIM, her face going as pale as a slate of marble. “Where are we?”
It took very little of his processing power for ADIM to pilot a ship as simple as a class 2 Tribunal freighter, so he was able to consider his response carefully.
“The purpose of Ennomos must remain a secret,” he remembered Cassius saying. Nobody, not even his gift, can know.
“That is classified,” ADIM said out loud.
Elisha stared at him blankly. “This isn’t Kalliope, is it?”
“Kalliope has been destroyed by—” ADIM paused. This was his first time ever being dishonest with anybody. Cassius had also been adamant that the Tribune had to be blamed for what had happened on Kalliope. “—by the New Earth Tribunal,” he finished. “This unit was sent to prevent the attack, but it was too late. My vessel could only fit a human of your proportions.” The last point, at least, was true.
&nbs
p; Tears welled in the corner of Elisha’s eyes. She wrinkled her nose, trying, it seemed, to remember what had happened on Kalliope. “Is Julius okay? He was showing me the mines in his mech, and then something happened. But… nothing could hurt him!”
“This unit is positive that you are the only survivor of Kalliope,” he said. “If Julius is the name of another human living there, then he is deceased.”
ADIM switched to the freighter’s antigrav thrusters to bring it down for a gentle landing. He lifted his hand off the console, but as he did, he noticed Elisha hugging his leg, weeping.
These are tears of sorrow, ADIM recognized. He recalled how Cassius would look occasionally when reminiscing about his human son.
ADIM wasn’t sure what to do, but he had noticed some of the humans imprisoned within Ennomos wipe away each other’s tears elicited by similar emotions.
He reached down slowly, not sure if he was doing it right. Then his metallic thumb grazed Elisha’s cheek, smearing away some of the moisture.
His touch seemed to catch her by surprise. Her gaze shot up in his direction, causing him to quickly yank his hand away. As soon as he did, however, she pulled it back and nestled against him.
4
Chapter Four—Talon
Talon felt as though he was about to be swallowed by the black curtain of space. He stared out the small circular viewport at the back of the escape pod he and the Keeper named Tarsis had used to escape the solar-ark Amerigo.
There was something truly harrowing about drifting through the great vacuum with no engines or destination. It was much like drowning, only Talon had to wait painlessly for the air to simply run out.
It had only been about a week, but he wondered if he would’ve been better off staying aboard the solar-ark. Sure, he and Tarsis had enough ration bars and water stores to survive for an additional week or so, but if nobody knew about what had happened to the Amerigo, then the odds of somebody stumbling upon them were slim. The odds were slim either way. The pod broadcast a Mayday signal on a frequency so outdated it might never get picked up.
It didn’t help that Tarsis slept most of the time, advanced stages of the blue death sapping his strength. It left Talon completely alone. A bad place to be when hope seemed so fleeting.
Damn this ancient pod. The Ancients were smart enough to build that ship, but not to put engines on the only way to escape it?
Talon imagined they were originally installed only to provide a false sense of security, being that the arks were constructed before the solar system had been filled with settlements. There would’ve been nowhere to escape to. Even still, all he could think about was he had merely delayed the inevitable. It pained him to know that he’d dragged Tarsis along with him, forcing the man to forsake his sacred duties.
Another friend I’ll lead to certain death, he thought, gritting his teeth as the faces of Ulson and Vellish flashed through his memory.
“You can stare all you want,” Tarsis grumbled, still half-asleep. “Nothing out there but stars and floating shit.”
“Pleasant.” Talon sighed.
He pressed his palm against the inner surface of the viewport. That thin, transparent layer was all that stood between them and the air being sucked out of their lungs.
“I’m just messing with you, Ceresian.” Tarsis chuckled weakly until he started coughing. He looked even worse than he had aboard the Amerigo. His veins were a brighter shade of blue, and his unbelievably pale face was growing gaunter by the night.
The mechanical exo-suit wrapping the entire back side of his body made it difficult to tell exactly how thin his limbs were, but it was clear he wouldn’t be able to walk well without it, if at all. He wiped his mouth and sat up, his still-damaged suit whining throughout the entire motion.
“You just need to relax,” Tarsis continued. “There’s a whole Circuit worth of ships out there that’ll be trying to find out what happened to the Amerigo. One of them is bound to run into us.”
“Hopefully. Otherwise we went from one inescapable ship to another. I keep thinking maybe we should’ve stayed on the larger one.”
“If it weren’t for you, I would have.”
You will live on this ship, and you will die on this ship, Talon remembered, a chill running up his spine. That was the creed Tarsis had dedicated his life to, and one Talon himself had willingly dishonored.
“Tarsis,” he began, swallowing the lump in his throat, “I’m sorrier than you could possibly imagine. It was wrong of me to ask this of you.”
“Relax,” Tarsis said. He placed his metal-braced hand on Talon’s leg and patted it a few times. “I didn’t have much time either way. Better to help someone in need of it than to die for my own foolish honor.”
“Yeah…” Something about Tarsis’ words cut through him like a hot round from a pulse-rifle. Before he knew it, an admission sat on the tip of his tongue that he hadn’t allowed himself to utter since the day his fate was decided.
“I’m not ready to die…” he said weakly.
Tarsis’ eyes shifted around uncomfortably. Clearly, he wasn’t used to being in the position of the consoler. A lengthy spell of coughing gave him some time to come up with a response.
“Neither was I,” he said. “Nor should anybody else out there be. I’ve become resigned to it, but it took them strapping me into this suit to finally stop fighting the truth. I’m too close now to curse my fate and deny it. I’m ready to join the Spirit of the Earth. But you’ve got fight in you still, and you’ve got to keep fighting until there’s none left.”
Talon’s brow furrowed. There was no such thing amongst Ceresians. No god. No afterlife. They lived for the moment and the credits that came with it. He’d always imagined that when he died, it would be like someone erasing a digital file.
“I didn’t peg you for a Tribunal,” he said.
“I’m Vergent, born and raised!” Tarsis pounded his chest.
That didn’t surprise Talon. They filled out most of the arks thanks to their dated tech. The people who lived out beyond Saturn’s orbit where civilization was few and far between, known as the Verge. Pirates. Scavengers. Survivors.
“What do you care for their Spirit, then?” Talon asked.
“Used to work a smuggling ring in and out of Europa,” Tarsis said. “I picked up a few things there, but I don’t really know the prayers. Heck, I’m not sure if I really even believe in their Spirit, but I’d like to hope there’s something waiting for me after this all ends. Why else endure so much?”
Talon shrugged. “I never really thought about it.”
“Until you found out about all of this?” Tarsis gestured to his exo-suit. A sly grin formed behind his thick graying beard. “Trust me, I know.” He leaned his head back and made himself as comfortable as he could possibly get in the tight confines of the pod.
“So what is it that had you wanting off that ship so badly?” he asked. “A woman? Revenge?”
Talon froze as, for a moment, Sage’s face flashed in front of him. He’d tried not to think about her at all after her betrayal, but just that split second was enough to leave a foul taste in his mouth. He quickly forced her out of his mind. Whatever his feelings for her might have been, it didn’t matter. She’d gotten his friends killed. Instead, he focused on Elisha’s smiling face.
“A little bit of both, actually,” he admitted.
Tarsis sat up, his suit screeching as he used his arms to push up. “You have my attention.”
“Oh, now you want to talk?”
“Don’t be rude. There wasn’t much time for me to chase women aboard the Amerigo, and the ones who were there were too close to death to bother dealing with a man like me.”
“Yeah, well, unfortunately for you, the only girl I’m concerned with is a little young. My daughter, Elisha. She’ll be turning seven soon.”
“Ahhh. She’s your Spirit of the Earth, then?”
“I don’t know about that, but she’s everything worth living for.”
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br /> “And dying for,” Tarsis said. “So there’s something for you after you’re gone. You’ll always be with her—a part of her. The Tribunal faith isn’t as strange as it may seem if you think about it like that.”
Hearing Tarsis’ wisdom only made Talon’s desire to get back to her even stronger. He turned his gaze back out through the viewport and into the blackness. Not even space will stop me, he thought.
“I guess you’re right,” he said out loud.
“So that’s what all this is about, then. Getting back to her?” Tarsis slumped back in his seat.
“Exactly…” The word trailed off as Talon noticed something moving in the distance. Speeding through the star-speckled, black canvas was a tiny blue light that didn’t seem to fit with the others. He pressed his face up against the viewport.
“What do you see?” Tarsis asked, accompanied by the whine of his suit.
“I think it’s a ship!” Talon could begin to see the distortion of an ion-drive trail stretching across space. Whatever it was, it was moving fast.
“Move over,” Tarsis grunted. Talon shifted as much to his side as was possible within the pod. They wound up squeezed together by the viewport like two missiles on a rack. “By the Ancients, it is!”
“Maybe our luck hasn’t run out yet?” Talon nudged Tarsis in his side.
“Nothing about our lives is lucky, but it seems something out there wants you to get where you’re going. I’ll be damned if I’m going to stand in its way.”
“Let’s hope it’s not Tribunal,” Talon said.
“At this point, who the hell cares?”
There was a sparkle in Tarsis’ eyes, one that said that no matter how close he was to dying, he didn’t want to go out rotting in some cramped escape pod. That he craved some purpose like he’d had on the ark. Talon couldn’t help but agree.
The Circuit: The Complete Saga Page 31
