“I know you don’t trust me any longer, and I understand why, but all I’ve ever wanted for you is happiness,” Cassius said. “Soon, the Ceresians will be my allies, and I promise that I’ll keep my ears open for his whereabouts. Next time I find myself in the Tribunal databases, I’ll even check his assignment for you. He didn’t seem like a man who would allow himself to die locked up on an ark.”
She looked into Cassius’ eyes for a moment and then nodded. “No,” she said, seemingly relieved. “No, he didn’t.”
“Now, let’s get you home.”
Cassius guided her to the waiting freighter. He was relieved as well, knowing there was at least a thin layer of trust remaining. He was mostly telling the truth. By the time his other androids had learned what they needed to pilot the solar-ark, not a single Keeper on board remained alive.
He’d made sure to look over every one of their dead faces before they were spaced. The Ceresian mercenary wasn’t amongst them. Which meant he was either serving on another solar-ark, or he was the Keeper the androids had reported as somehow reaching an escape pod. Cassius held a great deal of respect for whoever had accomplished the latter.
When they reached the ramp of the ship, Sage faced him, her features darkening again.
“I will have to tell them what I saw here, Cassius,” she said. “Even if you hide from me where we are, I’ll have to tell them that.”
“Don’t worry,” Cassius replied. “I will already have told them myself.”
“They’ll find you eventually, no matter where you hide. And next time they’re going to kill you. I won’t be able to—”
“Stop.” Cassius shook his head. “They will try, just as they have been for years. I know what I’ve brought upon myself, so say nothing else, please. Let’s just get you home.”
He sent ADIM to retrieve Sage’s belongings from storage on the White Hand. Once the android returned, they went to work programming the freighter.
They disabled its navigation and tracking systems, ensuring that it could never be traced back to Ennomos. Then they plotted an indirect course for Titan into the newly installed autopilot that wouldn’t allow Ennomos to be pinpointed by travel time based on drift charts. The autopilot also wouldn’t permit a manual override until it crossed Titan’s atmosphere. Cassius personally ensured that the coding was complex enough that Sage would have no chance of cracking it.
Safety first.
When that was completed, they escorted Sage into the command deck and set her down in the captain’s seat. She didn’t resist. Maybe she was hoping he’d try again to convince her to stay, but he didn’t have the time to focus on her.
He fit the safety restraints over her chest and then pulled out a syringe.
“Just a sedative,” he said before she could ask. He could see that she was starting to tense up, and with ADIM watching vigilantly, he didn’t want a repeat of earlier. “I can’t have you seeing any more, but by the time you wake up, your headaches won’t be an issue anymore.”
“I’m getting tired of going to sleep this way,” she grumbled.
“Even I must be cautious.” Cassius wet an area of her neck with a numbing agent. His throat went dry. “When you leave this place, you will be my enemy, Sage.”
As he prepared to stab the needle in, her artificial hand gripped his wrist, and she lifted her gaze to stare at his face. “Whatever you’re planning, Cassius, think about Caleb before you do it,” she whispered.
“I always am,” he responded. Then he plunged the needle into the side of her neck.
She grew drowsy in seconds, and as she did, he reached into a pouch on his belt and pulled out the spherical holorecorder that had been Caleb’s. It was the partner device to the one that stored Caleb’s final moments, and Cassius had been keeping it aboard the White Hand ever since his son died.
The Tribune wouldn’t be able to use it to track him if they ever found it, but if Sage was ever in close enough proximity, encrypted messages could be exchanged between them.
“If you ever need me, Sage, this will allow you to contact me,” he said. “Keep it safe.”
She watched with heavy eyelids as he fiddled with her artificial arm, sliding a plate of metal on the underside backwards so that the small device could fit inside, nestled between two clusters of circuitry.
“Cassius…” she whispered, struggling to stay awake. “His death wasn’t their fault… It wasn’t your fault… It was mine. I should’ve…”
Cassius placed a finger over her lips. “No, child. Never say that. No man can be blamed for what happened that day.” He cradled her head as the sedative completely kicked in and she slipped into a deep slumber. “Goodbye, my dear.”
7
Chapter Seven—Talon
Talon and Tarsis hunched over in the confines of the escape pod, watching the spotlights of the approaching ship through the viewport. Talon couldn’t make out the entire vessel, but enough to see that it was many decades old. It pulled alongside them, its cargo bay irising open wide enough to engulf them.
Definitely not Tribunal, Talon thought, relieved. In his experience, the spotting lights it used were typical on salvage ships. Whether they were there to help or were scavengers remained up for debate.
“Whoever comes through that door, we should be ready to defend ourselves,” Talon said to Tarsis. “We’re too close to get gunned down by pirates.”
“We’re two refugee Keepers with a short lease on life, in an escape pod worth little more than its weight in scrap metal,” Tarsis said. “I’m afraid to ask what you were before all of this if you’re so eager for a fight.”
Talon cracked a smirk. “A glorified mercenary, then a miner, then a mercenary again.”
Tarsis leaned against the glass, wearing the half-excited, half-nervous expression of a man finally returning home after countless years away. “Well, you’ll be happy to know that’s a Vergent ship out there. My people.”
“You’re sure?”
“I’d know a ship like that anywhere. Let me do the talking. Hopefully, these are the respectable sort of Vergents… though that’s a rarity.”
“They’re all yours.”
Talon glanced out the viewport to make sure they were completely within the ship’s cargo bay, and then pushed the button that signaled the pod to open.
Its hatch popped forward with a snap-hiss and then slid up completely over the roof. A group of Vergents stood in the cargo bay. All of them aimed guns into the pod. They wore tight black boilersuits, which somehow made their exceedingly pasty skin appear even whiter.
“No movin’, insiders!” a young boy in the center of them ordered. He couldn’t have been older than thirteen.
Talon did as commanded. The word insiders came off the young boy’s lips with unbridled scorn, which made him suddenly feel unsafe despite Tarsis’ relation. He’d encountered their kind plenty of times. Vergent merchants and smugglers were a common sight in Ceresian ports and the conduit, but they rarely spoke with strangers beyond what was necessary to conclude business and avoid fights. He was on their turf now, though.
“We are—” Tarsis was cut off by the same young boy.
“No speakin’ either!” he snapped.
Even Tarsis appeared startled by his harshness. The boy motioned forward, and two others moved into the pod with scanners. They climbed around the small enclosure with unbelievable dexterity, somehow managing not to bump into either Tarsis or Talon as they inspected the cramped space.
Talon immediately understood why people said that true Vergents spent every waking moment on their ships. Sure, there was an unfinished conduit station over Neptune and a couple of tiny settlements out here, but those were little more than the ports where their real homes could dock. Like Keepers, Vergents lived and died on their ships, only they were happy to do it and whatever else it took to survive. Whether that made them pirates, smugglers, or honest tradesman—it was all the same to them.
“They clear, Kitt,” the two
Vergents in the pod addressed the young boy.
Kitt nodded, but he held his gun steady. His piercing, dark eyes stuck out against the pale backdrop of his face, and a sharp nose was accentuated by bony cheeks. He was tall and lanky, like the poor of Ceres Prime forced to live under the low-g conditions of barely working gravity generators.
Talon imagined that if his people struggled to get their hands on legal solar-ark gravitum shipments, then Vergents probably got even less. He even started to notice that the artificial gravity pulling his body to the floor was noticeably weaker than it had been on the Amerigo. Nowhere near Earth g.
The other six Vergents who were lined up on either side of Kitt had a similar look to them—lean and bony and even taller, with the hardened glare of people whose very existence was a constant struggle.
“Lower all weapons,” a calm, gruff voice commanded.
They all obeyed without delay, the group parting so that the woman who gave the order could step through. She was older than any of them by at least twenty years. The captain, Talon assumed.
“Tarsis. Can’t be you.” The countless wrinkles quilting her brow deepened as she stared into the pod.
“In the flesh and metal, my old friend.” Tarsis smiled warmly. He stepped forward and they embraced, Tarsis’ damaged, metal exoskeleton noisily protesting the whole way. “How did you find us?”
The captain held him at arm’s length. “We were doin’ our best avoidin’ groups of Tribunal scout ships when we picked up a distress. Transmission’s so ancient we nearly missed it. Wouldn’t imagine findin’ you inside. Thought you were dead.”
“Nope. I survived that crash all them years ago, but I’m securely on my way there now, I promise you that.” Tarsis lifted his arms so that the bright veins beneath his flesh and the suit attached to it couldn’t be missed.
The captain’s expression darkened. Talon recognized the look. It was the same one Julius wore when he’d found out about the blue death.
Julius… I wonder if he knows about the others yet.
“I see,” the captain said grimly. “You’ll have to forgive. None of us here ever had the privilege of seein’ an active Keeper before. Didn’t realize what you were.”
As soon as they heard the word Keeper, Kitt and the rest of the Vergent crew holstered their weapons and lowered their heads in a reverential manner. It made Talon uncomfortable, reminding him of the fate that had befallen everyone on the Amerigo who foolishly stood their ground like they were supposed to.
“Few have,” Tarsis responded. “There aren’t many of us who get the opportunity to die outside our arks.”
“Exactly.” The captain’s glare suddenly grew judgmental.
“Don’t worry, Larana, we aren’t deserters,” Tarsis responded with iron conviction. “Something hit the Amerigo hard. I fear we are the only ones who escaped to warn the Circuit. The command deck was taken before a message could even be sent out.”
“So it is true, then?” Captain Larana asked. “We were leavin’ Titan when somethin’ blew the conduit in half. Debris almost hit us. Scanners read the Amerigo was passin’ through at the same time, but we didn’t believe it. Till now. Who be loony enough to attack a solar-ark?”
“Whoever it was, they used an android weapon the likes of which I’ve never seen. Quicker than any human, with eyes red as lava. The Keepers may not be trained to fight—Ancients’ sake, our weapons are hardly operational—but the thing cut through our ranks like we were nothing. Nothing.” Tarsis turned around and placed his hand on Talon’s shoulder. “I was ready to give my life before Talon here convinced me we had to warn the Circuit about what we saw.”
Talon exhaled, appreciative of his new companion’s white lie. A logical explanation, even if it’s only true for one of us, he thought. He wished he could bring himself to care more about whatever had happened on the Amerigo, but after hearing Ulson get shot down and watching Vellish be executed, he found himself numb to the deaths of strangers. Focusing on Elisha was all that kept him clear and focused.
“Androids, you say?” Larana asked in disbelief. “I’ve seen them things in action. Only Ceresians use ’em.” The contemptuous way she uttered the name Ceresians drew a cross glare from Talon before he could restrain himself. The captain took notice. “I see,” she recognized, analyzing Talon from head to toe before continuing, “Well, there’d need to be a thousand of them to take down the Keepers of a solar-ark.”
“We only saw one.” Talon spoke up for the first time.
“One? Impossible!” She and her crewmates started to laugh.
“There had to have been someone working with it, considering they hit the hold and the command deck simultaneously,” Tarsis clarified. “But like he said, we only saw one up close.”
“Must have been somethin’ else,” Captain Larana decided. “I’m hopin’ you two haven’t got too comfy outside the Amerigo though, ’cause we’re gonna find out what really happened, and you’re gonna help.”
A look of dread washed over Tarsis. “Larana,” he said, “it’s been a long time since we shared a drink on Triton, but you know me. I’m telling you; turn around before it’s too late.”
“Some of us—” the visibly irritated captain began, cut off when someone spoke over the ship’s comm system.
“Cap’,” the fidgety voice said, likely belonging to someone barely out of their teens. “Better get up here quick.”
“What is it?” Larana said.
“Transmission comin’ in. From the Tribune. Wide-range.”
“About?”
“You’d better come.”
“On our way. Kitt, come with me,” Larana ordered. “We might need a pilot. Tarsis, you too. Bring your friend. Rest of you, battle stations. Rare day when the Tribune are our friends. Don’t want them gettin’ the jump.”
The Vergent crew scattered, weaving around and over the hangar’s cargo containers with unbelievable nimbleness. Talon had been around ships all of his life on Ceres, but he’d never seen a group of people move with such comfort and grace aboard one. Maybe it was the lower g.
“Follow me, Keepers,” Kitt requested. He tapped Talon lightly on the back.
Captain Larana led them deeper into the ship. It reminded Talon of the solar-ark in a way. Not in scale, but it seemed like the bulk of it had to be at least a hundred years old. Every piece had its own unique noise to make, slapped together, and all of it with a worn quality that told of a dozen captains before. At every intersection he could see all the way down the hall into a larger spaces. Galley, gunning stations, sleeping chambers—they all fell into place with the utmost efficiency.
Easy to maneuver through, but hard to defend, Talon thought. They must rarely let strangers get this far.
“What an honor it must be to be named captain of one of these,” Talon whispered as he caught up to Tarsis. He ran his hand along the layer of rusty metal plates on the wall, feeling each dent in the surface. He was beginning to recall who his daughter got her love of ships from.
“You should’ve seen mine.” Tarsis had to raise his whisper so his voice would be audible over the whine of his damaged exo-suit. “She was a beaut.”
“You were a captain?” Talon asked.
“For twenty years. Until my baby, Verdana, was shot down by Tribunal security over Ganymede. I survived somehow, but the crummy grav generator went off and did this to me. I had the privilege of being sent to the Amerigo instead of rotting in a cell.”
“Damn.” Talon exhaled. “I’m sorry that we have so much in common.”
“Don’t be,” Tarsis replied. “She had a good run.”
Before Talon could inquire any further, they reached the command deck. In it, two seats on maneuverable platforms faced a bulbous viewport. The dated computers wrapping around them gave off a green glow, though there were a few modern holoscreens on the ends. Other than that, there was room for little more than a handful of people to stand.
Ceresian ships were similar. The Tribune
liked overstated command decks, with unnecessarily large viewports and plenty of empty floor space to show how special they were. As if they were grand meeting halls.
Captain Larana took one of the seats at the controls. Kitt squeezed past Talon and Tarsis, not even brushing against them, and took the seat beside her.
“Receivin’ their transmission,” Kitt said as he typed away on one of the old-fashioned console units.
“Go,” Larana replied.
There was no image provided like on most ships, but the voice of a Tribunal soldier was broadcast throughout the room.
“This is the Tribunal frigate Lazarus,” the soldier announced. “We are picking up a distress beacon near your location. Do you require assistance?”
“You get a readin’ on them?” Larana turned to Kitt and whispered softly. Kitt shook his head before keying the computer to activate their end of communications.
“This is Capt’n Larana of the Monarch,” she stated into the comms. “We’re just a tradin’ vessel out of Triton. Just testin’ some new equipment. Sometimes systems on this bag of bolts act screwy. You must be pickin’ us up by accident.”
“According to our manifests, the Monarch has already docked and exchanged goods on Titan. You are lingering in the dominion of the New Earth Tribune. State your purpose here.” Any shred of decency found in his earlier tone had vanished.
“We saw an attack on the conduit and solar-ark right after leavin’. Searchin’ for any survivors now.”
“You will cease your efforts immediately and remain where you are.”
“For?”
“A routine examination of your ship. If everything checks out, it will be returned to you accordingly. Then you will set a course for Triton and inform your people that Titan is no longer accepting visitors for the time being.”
“On whose authority?”
“In the name of His Eminence Tribune Benjar Vakari. We have missile lock on to your position and will have no choice but to open fire if you don’t comply. You have five minutes.”
The Circuit: The Complete Saga Page 33
