The Circuit: The Complete Saga

by Bruno, Rhett C.

  “There isn’t long,” the executor said. “My override won’t hold them forever. Choose.”

  “How do I trust you?” Talon asked. “All your Tribune does is lie.”

  She clicked her tongue. “Nonbelievers are blind to the truth.”

  “You’re not doing well selling yourself. Maybe you should head on up to the Buckle, learn how to haggle.”

  Her gun slid up his chin, coming to a rest over his mouth, the metal putting pressure on his teeth. “Your life and your daughter’s, or the truth. That is the only price.”

  Talon swallowed. He hated that she had his interest piqued. This shadow assassin, liar and deceiver—this answer to his prayers. In the end, he was trusting an executor with his daughter’s life. One, or the other.

  “I’ll need your word,” he said. “A promise… on the Spirit…” His head lolled to the side as he spoke, and his eyelids grew heavy. Talking again grew difficult, but it wasn’t from being choked since her arm wasn’t even on his neck. He tried to draw a breath and it felt thin, as if someone had switched off the air recyclers.

  Then he heard it, or rather, the lack of air rattling through ducts.

  “What the—”

  The executor coughed. Her finger grew comfortable on the trigger, as if she thought Talon were responsible for this. He didn’t hesitate. He couldn’t. Taking advantage of realizing what was happening first, he grabbed her wrists, directing her aim toward the ceiling.

  His ears rang from being so close to rounds going off, but he held her off. She kneed him in the gut, but still he held. She didn’t have the advantage of strength, with oxygen rapidly draining from the room.

  Whipping his elbow across her jaw, the gun fell free. She staggered, losing her footing on the rocky floor that a Tribunal wouldn’t be used to. Talon had spent a lifetime amidst the rock. He sprawled for the gun, just a hair faster than her.

  His vision was growing foggy, but he fired at her shadow as she darted away toward an air duct he just then realized was open. He crawled after her, unloading the magazine. His hand slid through slick blood, but only a bit. Not enough for him to have landed anything but a flesh wound.

  He didn’t reach the duct. On his hands and knees, he wheezed for air until a snap hiss behind him signaled the hatch to the crypt opening. Air flowed against his skin before the rattle of the recyclers returned.

  Only then did he inhale fully. His lungs inflated and his vision cleared. He found himself slumped against the wall, looking up at a handful of mercs and the dumbfounded face of Zaimur Morastus himself.

  “What a surprise, finding you down here, Rayne,” he said, kneeling and examining the executor’s pistol.

  “I… an executor…” Talon squeezed out. His mouth still felt funny.

  “We saw. You think I have no cameras hidden by my father’s remains?”

  “Get her.”

  “You don’t have to worry about that. I had a feeling those rats had people hiding amongst us. I’ll have to thank you for helping root one out. And him.” He nodded back at the corpse of the guard who’d brought Talon down. “He got what he deserves for breaking orders and letting you off that ship.”

  Two guards rushed forward and heaved Talon to his feet. His legs felt like he’d chugged an entire gallon of synthrol.

  “Take him back,” Zaimur ordered. “Then search for the executor. The Tribune thinks they can see everything. Soon, they’ll see nothing at all.”

  The men began to drag Talon, and on the way by Zaimur tapped the side of his face.

  “I hope you enjoyed your goodbye,” he said, low and brooding. “But he was my father.”

  * * *

  Talon was brought back up a lift and through a network of familiar tunnels toward one of the Morastus private hangars. His head still rang, but he was coming out of it. Not an encounter he’d expected while saying goodbye to an old friend. He was lucky to be alive.

  Far from lucky, he realized, remembering his condition.

  From what he gathered by listening to the newsfeeds and conversations they passed, Zaimur and Yara Lakura were working hand in hand to lead the war effort. They urged patience, so while the Tribunal fleet recovered quickly from Eureka and had already begun their incursion into the outer belt, the Ceresians did nothing. Instead, they focused on fortifying Ceres and expanding their own fleets. Several outer colonies had already toppled.

  It was a strategy loony enough to only have been concocted by Cassius Vale, which was scary in itself. How devious it would be if his rebellion against the Tribune was a sham. If he was working with them to destroy Ceres from the inside. Though, then he wasn’t sure why that executor would need to learn anything from him if that was the case.

  It all worked to muddle his mind further.

  Only Talon and a few others knew Cassius was guiding Zaimur’s decisions from the shadows. It seemed inconceivable that the same man who’d left the asteroid belt a slag-filled mess decades earlier could be its only hope for survival. Talon knew he was missing something, yet he had to remain quiet for the time being. He loved his home and his people, but he loved his daughter more.

  Everywhere Talon went, another former enemy seemed to cross his path. On one hand there was Cassius. On the other was the traitor who’d murdered his friend Vellish and sent him to die aboard a solar-ark. The same solar-ark where ADIM, who apparently had rescued Elisha from Kalliope, also slaughtered a crew of Keepers on Cassius’ orders.

  Two fallen executors and a homicidal android—they were his only chance at seeing Elisha alive again. Was this all a nightmare?

  He couldn’t escape the fear that they were all lying, even the executor who attacked him, and that Elisha was gone. Yet there was no conceivable reason they would. Talon was worthless by himself, and if Sage was trying to kill Cassius for her former masters, then she’d already had plenty of chances. If Cassius really wanted to infiltrate the Ascendant, then he didn’t need Elisha as an excuse.

  A few times over the long, quiet nights waiting, Talon thought about escaping the White Hand and taking matters into his own hands. He could expose Cassius, cause munity against Zaimur, and convince Yara Lakura to take the fight to the Tribune.

  However, there was another reason Talon remained patient and well behaved. Tarsis was in bad shape. The battle of Eureka had left Talon’s deteriorating body tired, but it’d left Tarsis far worse. Even with his suit, the Vergent couldn’t move far without winding up short of breath. Fleeing would mean leaving Tarsis to die alone. After forcing him to forsake his vows, Talon owed him better than that. Owed him better than what Julius and Vellish got.

  After being returned to the White Hand, Talon headed directly to the medical bay. Tarsis lay flat on the bed inside, sleeping soundly while a respirator pumped oxygen directly into his lungs.

  For the first time, Talon saw him shirtless and without his suit covering his limbs. No matter where he went, he couldn’t escape the blue death. Tarsis looked as bad as Zargo Morastus had when they were reunited shortly before he died, only Tarsis was much younger. His veins were as bright against his jaundiced skin as the gravitum generator on Eureka. He was so scrawny that his ribs bulged.

  Talon grasped his hand. Tarsis’ fingers were little more than knuckles strung together by cords of flesh. Too much pressure and he figured they’d snap in half like twigs from the trees on ancient Earth.

  “Just hold on, Tarsis,” Talon whispered into his ear. “We’ll finish this together.”

  “He will be at peace with the Spirit soon enough,” Sage said from behind him.

  She stood in the med-bay’s entrance, wearing a set of hand-me-down Morastus armor. It made Talon sick now to see her donning the same blue he himself had worn for most of his life. She’d already betrayed him once. Didn’t Zargo teach him better than to trust those who’d proven untrustworthy? That they were better off with a bullet to the brain.

  “You don’t know where he’ll go,” Talon countered, a harsh edge to his tone. Seeing her, h
e couldn’t help but picture the female assassin he’d just escaped.

  He’d grown able to tolerate being around Sage because he had no other choice, but they’d exchanged no more than a few words since winding up on the White Hand together. Every time they made accidental eye contact, emotions flooded through him.

  Hatred for what she’d done. Embarrassment that he’d allowed himself to be seduced by an executor. Shame that he’d been so close to telling that other executor the truth and taking an offer he knew the Tribune wouldn’t uphold. Lying to him meant nothing to them, when to them, he and Elisha were less than human.

  And worst of all, that when he noticed the pleasant arc of Sage’s back out of the corner of his eyes, he still felt a tinge of desire before he remembered the face that went with it.

  She took a step into the room. Talon subconsciously placed himself between her and his friend. He thought about asking her if she knew the other executor, if they were old pals, but he decided against it. He’d come too close to abandoning this insane mission and working with her. It would only lead to more distrust, and there was enough in the room for a lifetime.

  “He believes,” Sage said.

  “Unfortunately,” Talon replied. “All your Spirit seems to bring anyone is suffering and death.”

  “Should our trials be easy? The Spirit must prove us worthy of returning to our fallen homeworld.”

  “Let it stay that way. My people have always been happy out here in the void. We’ll be happy here long after I’m gone. Your Tribune can take our worlds, but we are the belt. Their preaching will be lost on our ears just as yours is lost on mine.”

  “I’m not trying to preach,” Sage said, clearly growing frustrated. “You’re not the only person who’s lost people, Talon. We’re all tested. A man I once loved died on Earth because he tried to do the Spirit’s work all on his own. It takes all our faith—the whole of humanity—not only the Tribunes’.”

  “Well, I’m sorry, Sage, but that doesn’t sound like a god worth wasting breath on to me.” He wasn’t sorry. Wasn’t even sure why he bothered softening the response for her.

  “You’re wrong,” she bristled. “I have seen the Spirit’s rage, and I have seen its tenderness. Our fathers have walked through space because of its blessings. Soon we—”

  “Its ‘tenderness’ is killing a good man.” Talon laid his hand over Tarsis’ chest and felt it inflate with air from the respirator. “I’ve heard your prayers. ‘Blessed with this ground beneath us?’ I walk here with ease because of gravitum, which comes from Earth… the very reason why I’m dying. You have an explanation for that? I’m not saying I don’t deserve what I’ve got, but him?”

  Sage’s gaze fell toward the floor. “The Circuit needs its Keepers. Everything happens for a reason. Maybe you’ll find why you were chosen before the end. I hope you do.”

  Talon shrugged. “Bad luck is the only reason I see. Chance is the only god I’ve ever known. Every day living is another day in defiance of it. Now, will you please leave so he can rest in quiet? I’m getting tired of arguing with a Tribunal. Honestly, it amazes me we all even came from that lifeless rock. Maybe the historians got that wrong.”

  “As you wish.” Her shoulders slumped as she turned. She started to exit the med-bay, but before she got all the way, she leaned against the entrance. She glanced back over her shoulder, a tear running down her cheek.

  “All my life I served the Tribune,” she said softly. “I heard every day how the faithless Ceresians were evil, immoral, and corrupt. I’d never spoken with any at length before I met you. And as much as I tried to deny it, I didn’t see anything evil. I know you’ll never believe me, but I didn’t get on that freighter to give you up. My mission was to discover who was behind the other attacks, and I knew it wasn’t you. I thought together we might be able to work to find the truth and get you and your friends out alive. I shouldn’t have cared about that, but I did.”

  “How sweet of you,” Talon remarked.

  Sage turned around fully. “You attacked the New Earth Tribunal and they responded. Same as your people would’ve done in their position. But I did care, Talon. I’ve killed countless people. So many that I grew numb to it. And I don’t know if that was me or the thing they put in my head or…”

  She bit her lip, squeezing her fists as some dark thought seemed to momentarily distract her. Talon watched quietly, blinking.

  “At first, I joined the executors to atone for Cassius’ son’s sins on Earth,” Sage said. “But by the time you and I met, I could barely remember who he was. Who I was. Maybe it was because my implant was damaged, but when I shot Vellish, for the first time in years I felt something. Guilt? Regret? I don’t know. I just know that I am truly sorry. Even if I can never earn your forgiveness, know that. Your fallen friends and your daughter are on my mind every time I pray. I will get her to safety, even if I die trying.”

  Without even realizing it Talon found himself staring directly into her green eyes. They were wet with tears. Real tears. If she was acting, then she’d somehow managed to trick herself.

  He opened his mouth to respond, but all that came out was air. By the time he had a chance to try again, she was gone, leaving Talon standing there, mouth agape and with tears of his own welling.

  “No way is she lying,” Tarsis grumbled. “Your daughter is alive.”

  Talon looked down to see that Tarsis had half spit out his respirator.

  “How much did you hear?” Talon asked. His voice cracked a bit and he hoped Tarsis wouldn’t notice.

  The Vergent put on a big smile before he said, “I’m a light sleeper. She’s telling the truth about everything though, you can be sure of that. We Vergents have a keen eye for people.”

  “Yeah… maybe…” Talon said.

  He stared blankly toward the room’s entrance and couldn’t believe he found himself feeling the same way. He imagined that Vellish would give him a hard slap on the back of the head when he joined him in the afterlife for doing so… if there was one. He sincerely doubted it, but he could see the appeal. Then he could wait there for Elisha for as long as it took to see her again.

  It was no wonder the Tribunal people were happy, eager to follow their council blindly, to pose as poor Ceresians and scrape by in the heart of a world they loathe. Amongst people they detest.

  If they could see their loved ones again after dying, why fear anything?

  7

  Chapter Seven—Sage

  “ADIM has returned,” Cassius’ voice suddenly announced over the White Hand’s comms system as Sage strolled around the ship to distract herself from the conversation in the med-bay. “Report to the hangar.”

  Sage squeezed her eyelids shut and nodded for her own affirmation. She had to focus on what was to come and push the situation with Talon to the back of her mind. The past couldn’t be changed. She didn’t need him to trust her, or even understand her, to do what had to be done.

  So she hurried to the White Hand’s cargo bay, where Cassius was already standing in the entrance, eager to get the operation moving.

  Talon entered behind her, one arm under Tarsis’ exo-suit-enhanced shoulder to help him walk. They didn’t exchange a word, but moved around the sleek red and black ship parked in the center of the room. It was barely large enough to fit more than a single person. Beyond it, the hellish glow of ADIM’s eyes shone bright.

  “Five hundred androids, Creator,” ADIM said once everyone was present.

  Sage followed Cassius slowly off the White Hand, and when she saw what was behind the android, her mouth fell open. Filling the private Morastus hangar were row after row of Ceresian abominations.

  They were the same type that worked the bar back in Talon’s home district, that stood at security posts looking scary but were really good for nothing. Imitations of humanity. Devilish automatons absent the Spirit’s grace. Their soulless white eye-lenses stared blankly forward.

  Sage knew the plan; however, seeing all of them was mo
re than she could bear. It made her weak at the knees. She had to lean against the structure of the White Hand’s ramp to stay upright. A hand from either Tarsis or Talon landed on her back to catch her in case she fell, but she was too focused on the machines to care whose it was.

  “Amazing,” Cassius said, staring lovingly upon the army of metal and circuitry.

  Talon strode past Sage. “This is it?” he asked. “I’ve seen those models try to shoot. They couldn’t hit a man if he were moving five meters in front of them.”

  “Alone, their programming is inferior,” ADIM said. “This unit is in control now. Their eyes are this unit’s eyes. Their weapons are this unit’s weapons.”

  ADIM didn’t move, but all at once the other androids reached onto their backs and drew pulse-rifles from mag-latches. Never had Sage seen androids moved so smoothly. They fanned out in perfect synchronization and aimed up toward ADIM.

  Sage felt a chill run up her spine. She’d looked down the barrel of enough rifles in her life to know when a shot was going to hit. The abominations’ arms, many with exposed wires and rusty plating, held the guns perfectly steady. Like an executor would. Like she would.

  She covered her mouth, fearful she might vomit.

  Cassius smiled in his creation’s direction. “Impressive, ADIM,” he said. “They can lower their weapons for now.”

  “Yes, Creator,” ADIM said. In an instant, the rifles were all returned to the androids’ backs, and they stood at attention.

  “Won’t their owners miss them?” Talon asked.

  “The requisition orders came from Zaimur Morastus himself,” Cassius said. “He has endorsed our mission to slow Benjar Vakari’s advance without having to waste any ships or people. Zaimur will be arriving soon with Yara so he can show her the force.”

  “They don’t know about Talon’s daughter?” Sage asked, swallowing back the lump in her throat and finally moving out into the light of the hangar. She refused to allow Elisha, the only reason she was willing to stand before so many monsters, to fall to the wayside. It was difficult for her to even speak with them nearby.