The Circuit: The Complete Saga

by Bruno, Rhett C.

  9

  Chapter Nine—Sage

  It’d been days since Sage woke from the induced slumber. She sat on her knees in the center of the freighter’s command deck, watching through the viewport as the stars crept lazily across the blackness. In it, her reflection stared back.

  Her eyes were green as lettuce touched by fresh water, not pale and hopeless as she remembered. Her fiery hair was cut shorter than she was used to and frayed out from beneath a cloth bandage stained with blood just as red.

  Reaching up with her human hand, she grabbed a loose strand, feeling a minor stinging sensation at the root as she pulled ever so gently. It startled her. She knew she’d never get used to feeling such minor pains.

  She sighed and looked down. Her pulse-pistol hung at her hip, and she wore the custom white armor bestowed upon her when she had been named an executor. All its dents and scratches were precisely where she left them when Cassius had stripped her of it before surgery.

  The exit from the command deck was sealed from the outside and impossible to cut through, even with her wrist-blade. It was programmed to open once Titan was in reach and the ship’s controls were returned to her; otherwise she’d have to slice through the viewport.

  The freighter sailed completely on autopilot, without even the beeping of navigation consoles to accompany her. There were some yeasty ration bars and containers of water left behind by Cassius in the corner of the room, but other than that, it was entirely empty.

  Sage had considered trying to hack into the ship’s computer and unseal her temporary prison. She’d considered trying to undo everything Cassius and his monstrous creation had done to the ship’s systems and figure out exactly where he was hiding. But every time she did, her gaze drifted to her artificial arm and she remembered that her wit was no match for his. It would just be a waste of time.

  At least that was how she tried to justify her lack of action.

  The truth was, she didn’t want to know. As much as Cassius broke her heart by betraying the Tribune, she couldn’t forget the man who’d introduced her to his son a lifetime ago. She remembered the hero revered throughout the Tribune.

  As she sat quietly, readying herself for prayer, she pictured herself back in New Terrene. She wouldn’t care who was looking through her eyes as long as she could continue doing what she did best—keeping the city’s faithful populace safe from dissenters and breeders of terror.

  As clouded as her mind had been when she awoke on the White Hand, presently it was clear. The memories were beginning to sort themselves, allowing her to draw on them if need be, but not overwhelm her. Piece by piece she was being put back together, re-embracing emotions that had become as foreign to her as they were to an android.

  “I am blessed with ground beneath me,” she stated proudly. Her trust in her Tribunal masters might have been strained, but she knew that the Earth Spirit remained with her. She’d seen what lack of faith could do when she’d watched Caleb Vale die on Earth, and she wouldn’t allow herself to lose it.

  Like humanity itself, she was being continually tested. Her worth ascertained. She bent forward and let the tips of her fingers graze the floor. Then she closed her eyes.

  “Our Homeworld has been blighted by darkness, but we are the light. Those beside me, those beneath me, those above me, ours is a collective unconscious, bound to each other and to the soul of the Earth. We are, all of us, shards of that Spirit, never alone as the dark void closes in. This day is yet another test of my conviction, but though the Earth may be wreathed in flame and shadow, she remains within me. May those who have left to join this essence guide my daily endeavors. Redemption is near. May my faith be eternal and unwavering, so that I may one day walk the Earth’s untainted surface with—” She paused and looked from side to side. Her list of those deserving was getting shorter. She swallowed the lump in her throat and continued, “—with those deserving at my side.”

  Suddenly, the entrance to the command deck slid open with a whoosh. Sage snapped around, drawing her wrist-blade. She saw a shadow first, but when her hawkish gaze followed it to the source, she found something there that she didn’t expect—a young girl.

  “Agatha?” the girl’s small voice asked. She didn’t seem fazed in the slightest by Sage’s lethal stance. She took a few unsure steps, and then her face lit up and she sprinted at Sage.

  “Agatha?” Sage mouthed, confused. A rush of memories surged through her—Talon’s broken stare just before she pulled the trigger on Vellish, their hands touching in the Ascendant’s brig, playing cards beside a fire on Ceres Prime.

  Impossible. Talon’s daughter?

  Sage reached out with her human hand in disbelief. It can’t be. I must still be experiencing side effects. She’s just a memory, she told herself emphatically. But her human fingers grazed the girl’s face and they didn’t pass through. She felt a cold cheek and rigid bone beneath it. Her eyes looked just like Talon’s.

  “You’re alive!” the girl exclaimed, hugging Sage’s leg. Her gaze immediately gravitated to a container of water pinned against a console.

  “I…” Sage was at a loss for words. When nothing came out, she noticed the girl’s dry lips and nudged her toward the water. The child didn’t waste any time running over and chugging.

  “Where were you?” Sage finally managed to squeeze out, more harshly than she’d intended.

  The girl wiped her lips and started tearing into a ration bar. “Stuck in the refectory,” she said with her mouth full. “I was looking around there and then got locked inside when the ship took off. It ran out of water, but then the door unlocked, and I came here.” She looked around the room. “You’re alone?”

  “I thought I was.”

  “Where’s ADIM?”

  “The android?”

  “He told me to stay, but then there was a crash! I didn’t mean to get stuck in here. The door just shut behind me.”

  “It’s gone.” Sage reached out hesitantly and placed her hand on the girl’s arm. “You’re safe now,” she promised.

  The girl was so preoccupied with devouring every last crumb that Sage’s words seem to pass right through her ears. “You know him? I’ve never met an android like him. He was going to introduce me to ‘the Creator.’” She stopped eating and her eyes widened. “Is that you?”

  “What? Of course not.”

  “Oh… I hope I didn’t upset him by leaving. I didn’t mean to.”

  “Upset him—” Sage swallowed the rest of her words. “Stop calling it that. How did you meet it?”

  “He… it rescued me from Kalliope after the Tribune attacked.”

  Sage had no idea what that meant, but considering the girl was Ceresian, she was worried a war had started and she’d missed it.

  “What’s Kalliope?” Sage asked.

  The girl stared at Sage like she had two heads. “It’s a mine,” she said. “Are you taking me back to Ceres? My father should be back by now; he promised. He’s probably looking for me.” The girl’s lips dipped into a frown. “He’s not going to be happy about Uncle Julius.”

  Sage’s throat went dry before she was able to respond. “Don’t worry. Your father is alive and well.” An icy moon passed by the ship’s viewport, its glossy surface faintly reflecting what appeared to be the rings of Saturn. “I’m sure he’s doing whatever it takes to get back to you. Right now, though, we’re approaching Titan. You’ll be safe with me, and I’ll make sure you get safe passage back home.”

  “Titan!” the girl exclaimed, getting up and running to Sage’s side. “Does that mean we’ll get to see Saturn? I’ve always wanted to!”

  “Yes, it’s right out there,” Sage replied, pointing to the outline of its rings. As she did, something the girl had said dawned on her. “What happened to Julius?”

  The girl’s gaze drooped away from the sight of Saturn. “He… he died on Kalliope…” She sniffled.

  Sage wasn’t sure why a sudden swell of sorrow stole over her, for a Ceresian no le
ss, but before she could answer, a loud, crackling voice spoke through the ship’s comms.

  “This is Tribunal Hand Yavortha,” it said. “Unidentified vessel, you are approaching Titan’s atmosphere at high velocity. This is a no-travel zone. Avert your course immediately or we will fire.”

  Sage knew Yavortha was not one for idle threats. She had no love for the man, but she was grateful to be contacted by somebody who could identify her.

  Running over to the captain’s chair, she swiped her hand across the command screen. The transmission came in clean, but along with the piloting controls, her ability to respond remained locked.

  “Come on, Cassius!” she whispered angrily under her breath. The doors were all open now, so she couldn’t understand what the ship was waiting for.

  “Unidentified vessel, you will comply!” Yavortha transmitted again, this time with even more severity.

  Sage banged on the screen again when suddenly it chirped. “Don’t fire. This is Executor Sage Volus!” she shouted into the comms, more frantically than she intended to. “I repeat, don’t fire! This is Executor Sage Volus.”

  There was an extended period of silence, which Sage imagined was most likely for vocal recognition. She didn’t know how long exactly she’d been out of contact, so some skepticism was expected. Still, there were only a handful of people in the Circuit who knew her true identity.

  “Executor!” Yavortha responded, sounding pleased. “His Eminence Vakari will be thrilled to learn you aren’t dead. I advise that you slow your approach. The thick atmosphere will tear you to pieces.”

  “I’ve lost control of my shi—” Right as she was about to finish the sentence, the lock on the freighter’s systems disarmed. “Never mind.” She exhaled. “I have it.”

  She lowered the engines and felt the familiar vacant feeling in her gut that comes when one falls too fast and too suddenly.

  “We will be awaiting you in the hangar of Cassius’ old compound. Do not delay.”

  The transmission cut out and the freighter started to rattle. They were entering the upper atmosphere of Titan. Sage strapped on her restraining belt and then wrapped her artificial arm around Talon’s daughter.

  “Hold on, girl,” she whispered into her ear.

  “I have a name, you know,” the child responded indignantly. “It’s Elisha. I thought you were Agatha?”

  Sage allowed the vibrations of the freighter to reverberate through all the human parts of her body. “Not anymore,” she said. Then she clutched Elisha tightly, wondering what the girl’s frightened heartbeat might’ve felt like against her forearm if it weren’t made of metal.

  10

  Chapter Ten—Cassius

  Cassius stood beside ADIM outside the solar-ark Amerigo, watching as the other androids meticulously transported heavy crates of processed gravitum out of its cargo hold and into the depths of Ennomos. He couldn’t help but wonder what his favored creation might’ve been thinking at that exact moment.

  Probably calculating exactly how many settlements throughout the Circuit could be provided with Earthlike conditions for how long with that much gravitum. Or that it would be enough to build six more bombs like the one that split Kalliope open like an egg. Now that their test was complete, six appeared to be the amount needed for what they were planning.

  Presently, one of the androids walked out from the lift that led to the lab below. It was the one ADIM had attacked. One of its eyes flickered and was sunken within a fist-sized dent, but it was working well enough. A trio of humans limped in front of it, looking in much worse shape. Survivors from the Tribunal freighters. They stared forward blankly as they were led along.

  “Finally,” Cassius said. “Come, ADIM. Now that the claws of the Tribune have been drawn from their poor souls, we will tell them of their heroic fate.”

  “Yes, Creator.”

  They made their way onto the Amerigo, across the massive cargo and up into the cryo-chamber hall.

  “Do you know where you are?” Cassius asked the three survivors. He then answered his own question before they could say anything. “This is one of the oldest working constructs of humanity currently in existence. These very chambers were built more than half a millennium ago by the Ancients. The first solar-ark. Amazing, isn’t it?”

  None of them responded, but they nodded their heads timidly. Cassius placed his arm around the one nearest to him, a man with a beard so messy that it masked just how rail thin his face had grown. He led him in front of one of the open chambers.

  “Load them in,” Cassius ordered.

  The damaged android went to grab the man, but ADIM quickly stepped forward and stuck out his arm. He grasped the docile survivor by the collar and lifted him into the vacant cryo-chamber himself, able to maneuver him like a limp doll. He then did the same with the two other survivors, a younger man and a middle-aged woman.

  “What do you want with us?” the bearded survivor asked.

  Cassius recognized him. It had been a year since ADIM had brought that specific survivor back from the first Tribunal freighter he raided. It was only fair to let the man know the reason why he’d been imprisoned for so long.

  “You are going to help us complete the work of the Ancients. Do you know what the original purpose of these arks was?” Cassius asked.

  The man shook his head.

  “I assumed you wouldn’t. Most of the Circuit has forgotten, or simply don’t care. But throughout many of my wasted years serving on their council, I dedicated my time to learning as much as I could about our ancestors. I found fragments of old files wherever I could—buried in databases in the Circuit’s oldest settlements, in conduit stations, and in the ruins of Ceresian cities after the end of the war. By the time of my exile, I had pieced it all together. Of course, the Tribune wouldn’t hear it.”

  He was so eager to finally be able to share his findings with someone other than ADIM that he had to pause for a breath. “You see, sometime before Earth fell, one of the Ancients’ maligned leaders had a dream of reaching the stars—of finding another world like Earth somewhere out in the great vacuum. He ordered the construction of a series of solar-propelled ark ships, his greatest invention. Most people ridiculed him for wasting so many resources… until gravitum.

  “While they were being built, some brave researcher found that the new element discovered within the deep mantle of the Earth could be used to generate substantial fields of artificial gravity when an electric current was applied. The Ancients began tearing at the surface of the planet, harvesting as much as they could find as quickly as possible. There was no need to find other worlds if they could build their own to simulate the conditions of Earth. They built the original conduit station above the moon to test it in vacuum conditions, and then selected asteroids that could be mined for all their countless resources in the safety of Earth-like conditions. Eventually, the planet couldn’t handle all the abuse. Billions were killed when it rejected us, spewing up molten rocks and cracking across the surface.”

  “That’s a lie!” the bearded man snapped. “It was the sins of men like you that cursed the world.”

  Cassius ignored him and continued, “With Earth literally crumbling, that foolish man who dreamed of the stars was the last hope for humanity. His solar-arks were the only chance of survival, but instead of being sent out to grasp at stars, they would become the threads upon which humanity endured. Their cargo holds were packed with the materials needed to construct more conduit stations, and each one was sent out, crammed with survivors, to the most promising worlds of our solar system.

  “The new conduits were built to house the remnants of humanity, except those chosen to operate the solar-arks and distribute resources—water, food, gases, minerals, and, of course, gravitum. We became addicted to the element. Why waste centuries trying to find worlds that may not exist when, with gravitum, Earth’s pull could be simulated wherever we wanted? Why adapt to low g? Why allow space to be the uninhabitable vacuum it is? The Circuit
was formed, reliant always on Earth, which had spurned humanity as if we were no more than insects.”

  “Stop,” the bearded survivor said. “Just stop talking. You’re insane.”

  “So were the men whose creations saved the human race from extinction.” Cassius reached out and grasped the man by his lean jaw. “You will help us complete their work. These chambers were originally intended to completely freeze humans for their century-long journeys, but that desire was forgotten. Now they’re used merely to slow the progression of the blue death. But the original programming remains somewhere in this vessel.”

  “Just kill us,” the man groaned. “Please.”

  “It is time that they are reverted to their true purpose, and all of you will help us test these chambers until they work perfectly. You should be honored. So few of us have had a chance to walk with the Ancients.” He released the man’s face.

  “Shall this unit begin the examination of the chambers?” ADIM asked.

  “No. Unfortunately we have other more pressing matters to attend to,” Cassius replied. “For now, this one will begin the studies for us while the others begin work with the gravitum.” He nodded toward the damaged android, who immediately began strapping the three groaning humans into their respective cryo-chambers.

  Truthfully, Cassius had no idea how long it would take to complete the work of the Ancients. He would have used the still-living bodies of Keepers if he had them, but he didn’t want to risk the blue death claiming them all first. He wasn’t even sure if they’d ever work as intended, so he didn’t want to waste time while he had a war to orchestrate.

  But, as he looked at ADIM, he remembered how much he always seemed to look forward to their projects. He didn’t want to disappoint him with such honesty.

  “Pressing matters?” ADIM asked.