Larana slumped back in her seat and sighed. She ran her hand through her frizzy brown hair as if she would discover an answer there.
Talon’s gaze gravitated to the pulse-rifle leaning against Kitt’s chair. It was the only weapon in the room, and if he could get his hands on it, there was a chance he could take the ship and try to escape. He wasn’t about to let a group of Vergents hand him right back to the Tribune. He’d plot a course for Ceres and never look back.
The only person in a position to stop him was Tarsis. He might have helped him get as far as they were, but Talon couldn’t decide who the Keeper would back in a fight.
As Talon plotted his next move, Kitt suddenly reached over the captain and switched off the transmission.
“We got enough synthrol left to be locked in a Tribunal prison until the long sleep,” he said nervously.
“Not to mention the two lone survivors of the first stolen solar-ark in history,” Tarsis added, peering over at Talon out of the corner of his eye as if he could sense what he was thinking. “And an escape pod that you just lied about.”
Larana took a deep breath. “Long sprint back to Triton,” she considered. “We can hide the synthrol again. Hope that they miss it, distracted by the pod. Claim I was lyin’ about it ’cause we don’t know who took the ark.”
Kitt glanced over Larana’s shoulder at Talon and Tarsis before he said, “Won’t be like no port inspection. They real soldiers, and we have guests. Somethin’ tells me the insider don’t have too good a history with Tribunals.”
Larana glared back at Talon and then pursed her lips. “Who does?” she conceded. “Settles it. We run home to Triton, and hope this old girl is fast as she was.”
Talon knew their chances were miniscule. After what had apparently happened on Titan, there would be countless Tribunal ships monitoring the space between them and Neptune. Even if they escaped the first wave, fleeing the scene of the devastation would have the Monarch hunted all throughout the Circuit.
They could probably make it to Uranus, yet even though the planet was technically run by Vergents, Tribunal influence was spreading there. Everywhere, really. He wasn’t exactly sure where they were in space at the moment, somewhere in the vicinity of Saturn, but Uranus was a hell of a lot further away than the asteroid belt.
“We’ll never make it to Triton.” Talon surprised everyone by speaking up. Tarsis nudged him to stay out of it, but he didn’t listen. “The Monarch may be able to outrun a frigate, but not a swarm of fighters for that long through open space. I doubt there are many ships that can. I may be wearing the suit of a Keeper, but I’m a Ceresian. Take me to Ceres Prime, and I’ll help you trade away all the synthrol you want at a price you won’t ever get anywhere else, and whatever else you’ve got.”
Larana eyed Talon skeptically. “Why should we trust you? A Keeper has no influence outside an ark. ‘Live on the ark, die on the ark.’ All except you.”
Talon realized he might have unintentionally insulted the Keepers she and her crew revered. “I was only recently accepted onto the Amerigo days ago.” He tried to feign a sense of honor over that fact. “I still have connections—friends from my days working for the Morastus Clan.”
“Morastus! Didn’t realize we were takin’ on royalty,” Larana responded sarcastically.
“Two minutes, Cap,” Kitt warned.
Talon didn’t want to beg, but he was verging on it. Ceres was so close that he could smell it—that moldy aroma that always seemed to emanate from the dated ventilation systems. The stench of sweat and sex in the Dome. Vera glistening as she danced up high for all to see, Julius struggling not to stare at her. He missed all of it more than he ever thought he could, and Elisha most of all.
“Even if I’m lying, my people won’t shove you in a cell for no good reason,” Talon said. “You can find a place to settle in, alter the Monarch’s clearance codes, and then return home safely.”
Larana sent a sidelong glare Kitt’s way.
“Definitely closer,” the kid said, shrugging.
Larana sighed. “Fine. Seems we have no choice. No way we wastin’ fuel goin’ all the way to Ceres Prime though. Not until you help us make a profit. Kitt, check the drift charts. Find the nearest Ceresian settlement for Mr. Morastus.”
Talon frowned, though he knew it was the best he’d get. “Deal.”
Kitt whipped around. His youthful fingers expertly fluttered over the command console. He brought up a map of the Circuit. Soon after that, he had two settlements pinpointed on the small, two-dimensional screen. “Pretty much equal to Thalia or Kalliope.”
“Kalliope!” Talon nearly shouted. His old stomping grounds. “That’s perfect. Take us there.”
“Works for me,” Captain Larana said. “You two should hold on.” She reached up and flipped a switch to activate the ship-wide comms before continuing. “Cedric, loose fastenin’s on the pod and secure everythin’ in the hold. Kitt, power engines for max burn. When I say open the cargo hangar, do it. We’ll give them what they’re lookin’ for.”
“Hopin’ they locked onto the distress beacon, not us?” Kitt said.
“Let’s hope.” Larana glanced back over her shoulder and flashed a grin. “In case you don’t realize, Talon of Ceres, this piece o’ junk was built for escapin’ Tribunal fighters.”
Tarsis grabbed Talon and pulled him to the side of the command deck. He yanked down two emergency seats folded into the wall, needing to work to unjam one. They hastily strapped into them, and once they were secure, Larana reactivated the transmission with the Tribunal frigate.
“This is the Monarch,” she said. “Seems I’m goin’ to have to deny you. Thanks for the offer though.”
Only a few seconds passed before the soldier replied, “May the Spirit of the Earth be with you.” The transmission cut out.
“Missiles out,” Kitt said.
“Open it!” Larana barked.
The stars through the viewport started to race by slightly faster. The walls and ceiling started to rattle, pipes and conduits clanking against each other. Even with the ship’s gravity generator working at full power to counteract the effects, Talon could feel the pressure of full acceleration. It felt like there was a half-ton man sitting on top of his chest, and his head was being crushed in a vise. He squeezed on the edges of his seat, praying that the burn wouldn’t last long.
“The pod is hit,” Kitt grated. “Wiped clean off the Circuit.”
Talon noticed a blinking red blip on the command console’s screen suddenly disappear. Larana’s gamble had paid off, it seemed, but they weren’t clear yet.
8
Chapter Eight—Adim
ADIM and Cassius watched as the inner hangar of Ennomos closed and Sage’s freighter vanished into the blackness of space. Then ADIM turned to observe his Creator. He wore an expression similar to the one he wore when he watched his holorecorder play the message from Caleb Vale. Another human wouldn’t notice the pangs of guilt tugging at his features, but Cassius couldn’t hide his true feelings from ADIM.
“She was supposed to stay?” ADIM asked. He contemplated reaching out and touching his Creator’s hand, as humans in distress tended to do. He didn’t.
“I had hoped, but she’s as stubborn as I was,” Cassius responded. “Now that they aren’t crawling around inside her head, she’ll have to find her own way. I’ve done all I can.” He sighed. “It’s no matter to us now. You have something to show me? Tell me it’s footage of the bomb’s effect.”
“It is not, but this unit does have recordings and output scans of the detonation if you would like to view those first, Creator?”
“It can wait.” Cassius smiled. He turned ADIM in the direction of the Shadow Chariot.
ADIM had closed Elisha inside for her safety after Sage attacked Cassius, leaving it in a low-power state to make sure she received oxygen. Something was off, however. The ship’s whirring fusion core had made it impossible to tell earlier, but as they got closer, he realized that the heat signatu
re it emitted was slightly different than it had been.
He jumped up onto the wing and discovered that not only was the ship unlocked, but the cockpit was ajar. He whipped it open all the way and stuck his head in, but there was little space for anybody to hide, even someone as small as Elisha.
“ADIM, what is it?” Cassius asked.
“She’s gone,” he responded. His voice remained even, as it always was, but his eyes spun wildly. He hopped down from the Shadow Chariot and looked underneath it. Nothing. He hurried out into the center of the hangar and performed a wide scan.
There were heat signatures in the labs below, but they were from the Tribunal prisoners. She couldn’t have accessed the lift to join them without owning a pair of Cassius’ retinas. As ADIM swept the station, he picked up another signature grouping coming from inside the solar-ark. This one was unusual.
Cassius grabbed ADIM by the shoulder. “Who are you talking about?” He was winded from trying to keep up with the android.
“A human child named Elisha. This unit found her unconscious on Kalliope and transported her here for you.”
A flash of anger tightened Cassius’ features. “You brought someone here?”
“As did the Creator,” ADIM responded. “Do not worry. She does not know the location or designation of this hangar. She believes the Tribune destroyed Kalliope, as this unit was instructed to inform all inhabitants of the Circuit.”
Cassius stammered, tongue-tied, as ADIM focused sensors on the strange reading inside the Amerigo. The dense hull made it difficult—plus the ship’s archaic construction made everything about it read strange through his sensors—but whatever it was, it was moving.
“Are there survivors on board the solar-ark?” ADIM asked.
“What?” Cassius said, surprised by the question. “No. Every Keeper who served aboard the Amerigo is now drifting through space. I offered them the chance for survival. They all refused.”
“This unit is registering a life-form aboard. Maybe multiple.” ADIM turned and sprinted toward the solar-ark.
“ADIM, we’re not done discussing this!” Cassius shouted and hurried in pursuit.
ADIM didn’t listen. He had to find the girl so that she could be presented to his Creator, and if it wasn’t her on the Ark, then whatever it was could’ve been a threat. In that case he had to protect Cassius and his will. Ennomos’ location had to remain a secret. He couldn’t risk hesitating.
Entering the cargo bay of the solar-ark, he was greeted by row after row of stacked storage containers. Many of them glowed blue through their ventilation shafts, and ADIM didn’t need to stop to analyze what they held. After constructing the gravitum bomb that had split open Kalliope, he knew those readings well.
He sprinted to the lift. The source of the unusual readings emanated from the space through the top of it. After calculating how long it would take to reach them, he decided to climb rather than wait for it. He hopped with ease between containers and massive mechanical arms, up nearly forty meters until he was able to grab onto the lip of the level above.
ADIM lifted his body and surveyed the room. Vacant cryo-chambers lined the worn metallic walls. But that wasn’t what caught his attention. As soon as his head showed, six pairs of glowing red eye-lenses turned to face him. He quickly fell back into cover, but when no shots were fired, he drew himself back up. The unidentified beings stared a short while longer before all returning to whatever it was they’d been doing.
ADIM propelled himself through the opening and took cover behind the open lid of a cryo-chamber. He aimed the gun built into his arm around the corner and cautiously approached the nearest red-eyed presence.
It was an android with a dark superalloy chassis, bright red eye-lenses, a blank plate where its mouth should be—just like ADIM’s. It tirelessly scrubbed a splotch of blood staining the floor.
ADIM grasped the android by the neck and flung it. It skidded to a stop against the opposite wall, but it didn’t do anything to defend itself. Instead, it popped back up to its feet and attempt to return to cleaning the stain. The other five androids around the room continued their work as well, ignoring the interruption.
“What are you?” ADIM questioned.
He lunged forward, grabbed the android by the head, and looked at its face. The tiny red lights surrounding its eyes were completely still, unlike ADIM’s, which had never whirled faster as his processors overclocked.
ADIM ripped the android’s faceplate off, revealing all the machinery churning around its memory core. Piece by piece he peeled through it. He wasn’t sure what was wrong with him, but he felt like two of his own wires had splayed and were being rubbed together to produce a spark.
“ADIM!” the familiar voice of Cassius shouted from near the lift.
ADIM paused, a severed line leaking some form of ruddy goo in his hand. He glanced down. The eye components of the android were popped out, one still glowing brightly and the other flickering.
“I didn’t want you to find out like this.” Cassius’ hand fell upon ADIM’s shoulder.
ADIM looked up at his Creator. The five other androids gathered behind him, standing perfectly upright and with all their sights fixed on ADIM. He scanned them one at a time. It was like looking into a series of mirrors.
“They look like this unit,” ADIM said.
“And that is where the similarities end,” Cassius responded firmly. “They were prototypes. Completed while you made progress stealing the Tribunal freighters.”
“To replace this unit?”
“Never!” Cassius insisted. “To bolster our strength. We needed help with what was coming next, but they are nothing compared to you, ADIM.”
ADIM pulled on the eye-lens of the android near his lap and stretched the wire connected to it as far as it would go. “Then why do they look like this unit?”
Cassius took a deep breath before answering. “Yours is an efficient model. They share your mobility and sturdiness, but that is all. What makes you truly exceptional is in here.” Cassius tapped ADIM on the top of his head. “I would never try to replicate that. It took most of the wealth I had left on Titan just to complete these poor, mindless imitations of you.”
“Imitation,” ADIM said. He looked down at his arm, where he made the tiny holographic emitters along the limb project the image of human flesh. “‘Cheap imitation of human life’,” he repeated in the exact voice of Sage Volus.
“Pay no attention to her,” Cassius said. “Her mind has been polluted by the lies of the Tribune for too long. What you are is completely unique.” He went quiet for a few seconds; then his features twitched with traces of excitement. “ADIM, raise your arms,” he requested.
ADIM released the other android’s eye and then froze instead of merely following the command. “I do not understand.”
Cassius wheeled around and faced the other five operational androids. “Androids, raise your arms.”
Without hesitation they all echoed, “Yes, Creator,” and raised their arms straight up.
“Androids, about-face.”
“Yes, Creator,” they droned again and turned around in unison.
“Androids, continue cleaning this vessel.”
The same response came, and then they all returned to the stains on the floor that they’d been scrubbing before Cassius or ADIM entered the room.
“You see, ADIM? Not a second thought,” Cassius said. “You were the same when I created you, but they will never evolve as you have. ‘Dynamic intelligence’—that was my gift to you. These androids, they are imitations. The androids dotting the Ceresian Belt, those are imitations. But you, you are something superior.”
ADIM rose to face his creator. They stood at the exact same height. “What is that?” he inquired.
Cassius smiled warmly. “We’ll just have to find that answer for ourselves, but to me, now, you continue to be my son. They are only here to help us. Tools.”
ADIM’s rotating eyes slowed, and his scanners read
that Cassius’ heartbeat did the same. He glanced at the mess of parts sprinkled around his feet.
“Don’t worry, broken parts can be replaced,” Cassius said. “Now, let us find this child.”
“Elisha,” ADIM corrected. “This unit is reanalyzing the thermal readings of the freighter given to Sage Volus before its departure. A faint heat signature, perhaps from a small-sized human, was located in the galley of the ship. This unit’s focus on guarding you from the executor resulted in it going unnoticed. It will not happen again. This unit will prepare the Shadow Chariot to retrieve your gift.”
“No, ADIM, leave her. If it is the girl, Sage will keep her safe. If she ever gets back to her people, she will cast blame for what happened on Kalliope against the Tribune, just as we desire. As long as you’re sure she saw nothing but the inside of the hangar?”
“This unit is positive.”
“Then we have nothing to worry about. They will already know this place is somewhere in an asteroid, but with war to come and thousands of asteroids floating throughout the Circuit, the Tribunal search for me will only serve to spread their resources even thinner, just as we intend. Though I must ask—why did you bring the girl back?”
ADIM processed the question for a moment before responding, “The Creator was not clear that everyone on Kalliope had to die. There was ample room on the Shadow Chariot for a human of her size. This unit has seen you watching the recording of your deceased human child, Caleb. His loss distresses you. This unit had never seen an undeveloped human before and deduced that she could be made worthy of your will. You have given this unit many gifts. This unit wanted to provide you with one. Are you unhappy with this unit’s decision? Did this unit misinterpret the Creator’s will?”
Cassius smiled. “Of course not. I’m thrilled and honored that you came to that decision on your own, but I don’t want another child. I have enough. We are in this together now. Only us. Do you understand?”
“Yes,” ADIM said, his systems cooling.
Cassius reached out to cradle ADIM’s face in his palm and stared at his expressionless face. “You continue to surprise me, ADIM.”
The Circuit: The Complete Saga Page 34
