“No,” Cassius said. “We needed an excuse to involve the clans. When they get here, Talon will pose as the leader of this strike, using the androids as a distraction and my ship to get close. My involvement must remain secret, as agreed upon.”
“Of course,” Sage snapped. “Why ever let the world in, Cassius?”
Cassius stared at her, but said nothing.
“We’re going to need another ship to fit all of them,” Tarsis voiced.
“Already taken care of,” Cassius said. “Your Vergent comrades have pledged the support of their vessel to this effort.”
“Sure, like they’d ever help you.” Tarsis choked on his next breath after speaking and started to cough.
“Because of Sage, they have no choice. Zaimur and I have been monitoring them ever since we met to see if they managed to find out the truth about me from when she made contact.”
“If you hurt them!” Tarsis lunged forward, but Talon stepped in the way and held him back. ADIM was already halfway up the White Hand’s ramp and ready to strike by the time he stopped.
“Relax, everyone,” Cassius said, calm as ever. “They agreed to help, and the very fact that they’re willing to do so shows me that they didn’t overhear any of our conversations. They’ll be getting rewarded handsomely with twenty androids to trade or use at their leisure. Would you stand in the way of such a gracious offer, cementing a true alliance between Ceres and members of the Verge?”
“You said it yourself, this might as well be a suicide mission,” Tarsis said. “I agreed to this, but I didn’t agree to involving them.”
“He’s right,” Talon said. “Do they even know what they’re up against? This isn’t just another retrieval op.”
“It will be close enough,” Cassius stated, and Sage could tell he was getting agitated. Like when Caleb used to ask too many questions. “I assure you, all they’re being asked to do is get close enough to deliver half of ADIM’s androids onto the Ascendant. They won’t even be in contact with me or Zaimur for us to demand any more. You three will be the only ones accompanying them.”
“So we’re just going to lie to them?” Tarsis asked. “That might be easy for you, but they’re my people.”
“This is not a debate!” Cassius hissed, rising to his full height. “Having their ship is a necessity for this mission. I’ve learned that despite its age, it’s quite adept at avoiding Tribunal scanners. The closer we can get before alerting Benjar to our presence, the better.” He turned toward Talon. “The raid on the Ascendant must be two pronged, and it must be synchronized if we stand any chance of rescuing your daughter.”
“He’s right,” Sage interjected. “I was just on that ship, and there are more soldiers than we can take straight on. We’ll need to take them by surprise as much as possible to stand a chance.”
Tarsis sighed and leaned against the hull of the White Hand. “I suppose we wound up on their ship for a reason, eh,” he said to Talon, who nodded in return.
“Good.” Cassius exhaled. “If you’re all finished deliberating, there’s no time to waste. According to reports, Benjar is about to attack 19-Fortuna. It will fall promptly, but the defenses there should be enough to force his fleet to finally slow down to undergo repairs before continuing. The Ascendant will be vulnerable only then.”
Talon shot Sage a look as if asking for her endorsement. Her heart skipped a beat. At least he trusted her more than Cassius.
“It’ll work,” she confirmed, even if she wasn’t completely sure. She figured their chances were fifty-fifty at best. It made her skin crawl to know that she’d be charging alongside the cheap imitations of humanity, but most of the soldiers on the Ascendant wouldn’t have ever been exposed to androids. They’d be terrified, even more than she was.
“Of course it will,” Cassius said. “Now, Talon, remember that you’re in charge when they get here. We leave as soon as Yara approves the mission. Come, ADIM.”
He waited for the android, and then they stepped up the ramp into the White Hand. ADIM’s head twisted so that he was facing Sage the entire way up, red eyes piercing her as if they could possibly wield emotion.
“This is even crazier than I thought,” Tarsis said.
“He’s never lost a battle,” Sage replied, still watching as the red glow of ADIM disappeared into the ship, her chest feeling tight until he was out of view.
“Everyone’s luck runs out eventually.”
“Quiet,” Talon whispered. “Look.”
He gestured over the formation of motionless androids. A group of armed guards belonging to both the Morastus and Lakura Clans entered the hangar. Behind them strode Zaimur Morastus and Yara Lakura. The latter wore battle armor like the last time Sage saw her, and a hardened expression on her dark face that seemed permanent.
Zaimur wore a turquoise robe with colorful frills on the shoulder pads, complementing his flowing golden hair. His fearsome hound walked at his side, just as it had when she’d first met him so long ago before she had followed Talon onto a Tribunal freighter and ruined his life.
“I’ve never seen them walking side by side,” Talon commented. “I don’t know which is a stranger sight, them or the bots.”
The leaders of their respective clans threaded the ranks of androids at a brisk pace. Sage watched them closely. Zaimur was calm, and Yara seemed slightly confused. Once they emerged from the ranks and saw Sage and the others standing at the base of the White Hand’s ramp, Zaimur appeared equally astonished.
Yara moved ahead and positioned herself directly in front of Talon. “So this is why you wouldn’t help me, is it, Talon?” she asked. “Once a Morastus, always a Morastus.”
“Forgive me, Madam Lakura,” Talon said, bowing his head. “I didn’t want to insult you.”
Zaimur stepped to her side. His mouth parted to speak; then he paused, and then once more before he finally spoke up.
“Talon here has been one of our best agents for a long time,” he said. “Apparently there’s nothing that can kill him.”
Sage took note of the resentment in his tone. He probably wasn’t pleased with what had happened on the freighter either. Though she felt less bad about failing this Ceresian powermonger, willing to raid and kill Tribunes for profit he didn’t need. He was rich. Well fed, with servants of his own. At least Talon and the others were trying to provide for others. To create a life worthy of a Tribune for their families and friends.
“Only what claimed your father,” Talon said. “My condolences by the way, sir. He was a great man, like a father to our people. I visited his grave earlier. A beautiful display.”
Zaimur’s lips pursed tight. “He will be missed.” He turned his attention to Sage, and after a few seconds his eyes went wide as he recognized her. “Agatha Lavos? I wasn’t aware you two still ran together. I thought you were dead.”
“Close,” Sage said.
“And this is a member of the Vergent crew who will be helping.” Zaimur gestured to Tarsis.
“Pleased to—”
Yara cut Tarsis off. “I’ve met them. It seems unwise to waste the Hero of Eureka on what is likely a suicide mission. My people would rally to him.”
Zaimur blanched. “This is the Hero of Eureka everybody’s been talking about?”
“You didn’t know?”
“We acted on our own accord,” Talon quickly boasted, saving Zaimur from unraveling the lie they’d worked to plant in Yara’s head.
The Morastus leader stomped directly in front of Talon, hound at his heels. Sage instinctually shifted the hand of her artificial arm so that her blade was prepared to slide out and protect Talon. Zaimur glared into his eyes, lips twitching in anger like he wanted to strangle him.
“That you did,” Zaimur said through his teeth. “And here I thought that I was the Hero of Eureka, sending my fleet to save all of you.”
“Without him, there likely would have been nothing left to save,” Yara insisted. “Gravity flip. Great move when it doesn’t backfire.�
��
Zaimur held his heated gaze on Talon for a few seconds, then finally turned away to face Yara. “Well, it doesn’t matter anymore. Talon will lead this strike and use Cassius Vale’s former ship to steal the prototype gravitum bomb, which split open Kalliope, even if it kills him. Isn’t that right?”
“That’s, uh… that’s right, sir,” Talon stammered.
“Well, we might as well make these things useful,” Yara said, poking one of the still androids in its chest and watching as its body swayed. She didn’t look impressed.
“My thoughts exactly,” Zaimur said. “Now, there’s much to do. Let’s leave this operation in their capable hands.”
“Agreed.” Yara’s brown, leathery face cracked a grin as she nodded toward Talon. “Once again Ceres is indebted to you, Talon Rayne. Good luck. You do us proud.”
“We won’t fail,” Talon assured her.
Zaimur leaned in close to his ear. “You’d better not,” he whispered sharply. Then he put on a cheery expression before wrapping his arm around Yara’s back and leading her away, yammering on about nonsense. He loved to hear himself talk. Reminded her of a younger Benjar Vakari even…
She shook away the thought. Benjar wasn’t perfect, but he was a Tribune. A man of faith. Zaimur Morastus was a man of nothing—the most dangerous kind.
“Did Cassius tell you anything about a weapon?” Talon asked Sage once they were far enough away.
“No,” she replied.
“Gravitum bomb. I knew there was something off about the spiked readings of the element when we were near Kalliope, but I’ve never even heard about something that powerful. Did you when you were an executor?”
Sage couldn’t help but notice that he had said “were.” It delayed her response for a second or two. “Never. Tribune Vakari claimed that the attack was orchestrated by your people to start the war, last I heard. What really happened there?”
“The asteroid was sliced open like it was under a surgical knife. I’ve never seen anything like it. I don’t trust him, but I have to believe Zaimur isn’t depraved enough to do that.”
“The Tribunal Council might never agree to destroy a colony… But I fear Benjar would if it means getting what he wants.” She hated saying it, but it was the truth. Faithful or not, a part of her knew that Benjar had lost his way. And he’d grown too powerful and influential for anybody to question it and bring him back to the proper path.
The entire purpose of the council was to ensure that couldn’t happen. To keep each other in check and hold each other accountable, for the good of the Tribune. But being right about Cassius had tipped the scale too far in Benjar’s favor. Was it possible—
“Neither of you are going to say it, so I will,” Tarsis said, interrupting her thoughts. “What if Cassius Vale did Kalliope in? He tore through the Amerigo well enough.”
Talon’s brow knitted. “Why would he need to steal another one, then? And why save Elisha?”
“Don’t ask me to explain why he does anything.”
Talon sighed. He placed his hand on Sage’s slender shoulder, startling her. Her heart raced as she turned to him.
“I hope you’re right about this,” he said.
Suddenly, the airlock atop the vertical hangar peeled open, and the Monarch descended through the tall, hollow shaft. It was too late to seek out any other options. Whatever Cassius was after didn’t matter.
Sage wouldn’t fail. She couldn’t fail.
“I am,” she declared.
8
Chapter Eight—Adim
As ADIM’s main body stood beside his Creator on the command deck of the White Hand, he simultaneously looked through the hundreds of different eye-lenses of lesser androids. His ability to control them improved rapidly, every movement sending hordes of data he could analyze for network optimization.
At first, he could only move the whole of them in groups, but over the five-day journey to the Ascendant’s position, that changed. He could wiggle the finger appendage of one of the androids standing in the cargo bay of the Monarch while it sped through space hundreds of thousands of feet away. He could listen to the conversations between the Vergents and their guests—his allies—to hear what they were up to.
He didn’t trust any of them.
He’d never encountered Vergents before, but, judging by the one named Tarsis’ reactions to Cassius, they were a danger to his creator’s will. Even the aid of the skilled Sage Volus was unnecessary. With the androids under his command, ADIM could alone hamper the Ascendant as Cassius desired as well as retrieve Elisha. He doubted that the others would survive the mission as presently organized.
Perhaps that is his intention, ADIM considered.
He glanced down at Cassius, who was seated in the White Hand’s captain’s chair. He was staring through the viewport at the endless field of stars, waiting patiently. They were nearing their destination, and ADIM had one additional operation to monitor. He was piloting the White Hand, for Gaia had become as much a part of him as the other androids were. Another piece of code strung to his growing network.
“Creator, a transmission is arriving from the Hound’s Paw,” ADIM announced.
“Patch him through,” Cassius said.
ADIM signaled the holoscreen to bloom above the arm of his creator’s chair. The decibel readouts of Zaimur Morastus’ voice appeared on it. He and Cassius were careful never to open a visual connection. There was no telling who could be watching.
“Checking in again?” Cassius asked.
“Are you in position yet?” Zaimur took no effort to disguise his impatience. “Fortuna has fallen.”
“As I anticipated—”
“Anticipated,” he scoffed, cutting Cassius off. “That colony had a population of two hundred thousand. It’s the largest, most defensible settlement we have beyond Pallus and Ceres. Pallus will be next. A month, Cassius. A month since Eureka, and they’ve already gotten this far. Twenty settled asteroids taken by Benjar’s fleet, and I hear that Tribune Yashan’s fleet has finally arrived at the other end of the belt!”
“Think of them as twenty regions where the Tribune must leave behind troops and ships in order to install their infamous degree of order.”
“Haven’t you heard? Anyone who fights back against Benjar’s Hand is being executed on the spot!”
You learned well from me how to win, Benjar, Cassius thought, somewhat proudly.
“Yet still, people fight back,” he said. “For those that don’t, they’ll be transporting Earth Whisperers to every settlement to try to convert your people.”
“Cassius!” Zaimur roared. “This plan of yours is running out of time. Instead of making our stand, we’re transferring ships from Pallus to Ceres and leaving it to fall next. Yara is growing restless. By the ancients, even the Ventiss Clan is getting impatient. Maybe I was a fool to put my trust in you.”
“I would caution you to watch your tone,” Cassius said.
ADIM could tell his creator’s pulse was elevated. He managed to keep his composure, however.
“There’s no changing our course now,” Cassius went on. “Or have you forgotten the reason you were so willing to lend me androids for this? That raiding the Ascendant is crucial to our ability to hold Earth hostage? Our threat must be severe if we’re going to convince both Benjar and Cordo to turn back to try to thwart us instead of pushing toward Ceres. Only the weapon that split Kalliope can accomplish that.”
Zaimur sighed, remaining silent for a few seconds. “Fine,” he conceded. “But as soon as Pallus is attacked, we make our move. That’s not open to debate.”
Cassius bit his lower lip. “Of course, Lord Morastus,” he said. “That has always been our intention.”
“Good. Cripple Benjar and bring me that weapon today, then, or I’ll have to start rethinking this alliance.”
“With pleasure.”
The transmission cut out and ADIM deactivated communications. They were too close to the Ascendant now to risk furth
er ship-to-ship broad-range contact. He had his numerous other bodies in position if they needed to converse with the Monarch.
“You still don’t trust him, do you?” Cassius looked up from his command seat and asked, as if he could read ADIM’s mind.
“No,” ADIM said. “This unit hesitates to trust any of the humans involved in this assignment and is positive that the task can be completed without their aid.”
“I have no doubt you could. It was never my intention to do this, but it will provide the time we need for the others to complete their work.”
“This unit understands that. The logic of this objective is undeniable. It has never been in question.”
“Just those I’ve allowed under my wing, right.” Cassius exhaled. “I don’t expect you to understand, but Sage is the most exceptional human I’ve ever known. Soon she’ll see things my way, and there is nobody more worthy to stand at our sides. The rest are harmless. Worthless. We will need help in our new future, people who see things our way. Talon’s child can serve as a rallying cry for the Ceresians should they ever forget about what happened at Kalliope.”
“That is what this unit does not comprehend,” ADIM said. “We have never required assistance. Every human aboard the Monarch has expressly wished for your death or been directly affiliated with those who do.”
Cassius chuckled. “You’ll be hard-pressed to find anyone who hasn’t wished for that these days.”
“They must all be eliminated.”
Cassius clutched ADIM’s arm and squeezed. “Careful, ADIM, it is dangerous to see the world so black and white. Many in power will have to be removed, but our goal is to free the minds of the Circuit, not undo it.”
ADIM’s mind began to churn. By the very nature of their goals, the Circuit would be transformed. Its people would have to transform as well; otherwise they would pose a danger.
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