The Circuit: The Complete Saga

by Bruno, Rhett C.

  His ability to maneuver them was slightly hampered by the increased activity of every unit. It was enough that he decided to transfer control of the White Hand, which remained in range of his influence.

  “Creator, this unit is placing you in control of the White Hand,” he said through their personal comm-link. “Only direct communications between us will remain active.”

  “Is everything alright, ADIM?” Cassius replied.

  “Yes. There is, however, greater resistance than anticipated. The others should be escaping shortly.”

  “What about you?”

  “This unit will utilize the Shadow Chariot as we discussed, after disrupting the weapons systems.” ADIM turned the head of his main body as he crawled, his gaze tracing a line across the stars. “Do not worry, Creator, space is not an obstacle.”

  Cassius sighed audibly. “Just keep me updated. Remember, it’s not Benjar’s time to die yet.”

  Silence returned as Cassius cut the feed, but it didn’t come with the usual sense of emptiness. Not with such a crucial task with which to fill the long minutes when he was apart from his Creator. He didn’t doubt that he’d see Cassius again soon; he only wanted to ensure that he would be content upon their reunion, with his will wholly fulfilled.

  By the time ADIM reached the spanning viewport that enclosed the command deck, he saw through his numerous other eyes that Sage and the others had joined the androids in the main hangar. His army was dwindling, but the odds of their survival remained relatively high. He hoped that would be the case, because presently ADIM had to draw most of his concentration to his main body.

  The command deck was packed with a multitude of green-caped soldiers belonging to Benjar Vakari’s personal honor guard. According to Cassius, they were the castoffs who weren’t strong enough to be named executors. They weren’t worthy of the Creator; however, like Sage Volus, they aspired to be. As a group they might pose a challenge.

  ADIM crawled across one of the viewport’s thin structural members so that he wouldn’t lose magnetic traction. He stopped above the guards, his main body shrouded in a holographic projection of the stars. While he waited in that position, he commanded a small battalion of remaining androids to fight their way toward the command deck’s main entrance.

  As soldiers filed out of the room to respond to the diversion, ADIM aimed his arm down at the glass. A concentrated beam of energy shot out from above his wrist, and with it he traced a circle around his position. He was careful to make sure it didn’t fully penetrate. The emergency shutters on a ship as advanced as the Ascendant would be dense. Too dense, likely, for him to breach it with either the laser or one of his onboard missiles. He couldn’t risk that.

  He dug his fingers into the incision and waited until the androids had caused as much of a commotion right outside the command deck as possible. Then he shoved his hands through, grasped the underside of the glass, and flung his body downwards. The powerful change in pressure attempted to tug him back out, but the emergency shutters slammed across the viewport, squelching the vacuum and sealing the hole.

  ADIM located the nearest targets as he plummeted, taking them out with precision shots between their eyes. When he finally landed, it was within a ring of eleven dead Tribunals. He quickly camouflaged himself to appear like one of them and remained lying on the ground, playing dead. It was a trick he’d learned from the captives on Ennomos. On certain occasions they would feign stillness when he entered and then try to race out of the room. It never worked, but they weren’t built as he was.

  More alarmed members of Benjar’s honor guard raced toward him. Their guns were raised, but there was nothing to aim at. Only the dead. ADIM waited until they bunched up to try to figure out what had happened, and then he sent a missile straight into the middle of them. A shower of blood and severed limbs rained down in front of him, shrapnel tearing into the corpse he’d lifted to shield himself.

  “There’s one of them in here!” a soldier on the other end of the command deck shouted. “Kill it!”

  Another large squad charged at ADIM, unleashing the clips of their pulse-rifles with no fear of breaking more segments of the viewport when balanced against stopping him. They fanned out so that another explosive round would be relatively ineffective.

  ADIM ducked behind the pile of carcasses and assessed the situation. The structural ceiling of the Ascendant was lofty and ostentatious, far beyond efficiency factors. He fired another missile at a truss that he determined to be decorative. It came loose and swung low in a wide arc that took out half the squad. The rest were so stunned that he was able to eliminate them with five well-placed bullets.

  With the defending forces dispelled, ADIM turned his attention to the command deck itself. Dozens of holoscreens and consoles lined either side of the long concourse, but he was seeking the main one—the command console upon which all others were dependent. He located it at the far end of the deck, just in front of an empty throne meant for Benjar Vakari.

  ADIM hurried over to it and stretched his palm across the surface. He had to work quickly before more forces arrived. He could see through the eyes of some of his androids in the hangar that combat mechs were being dispatched to intercept him. The scene was too chaotic to notice if Sage and the others had made it off, but he wasn’t picking up their vitals, and a hole was blasted through the hangar entrance large enough to fit humans.

  He focused all of his processing power on becoming one with the Ascendant, searching through its vast array of systems to find what he was after. It was drastically more complex than the Tribunal freighters and even the White Hand. He calculated it would take more than a minute to pinpoint the data associated with the ship’s weapons systems and defenses. Maybe two.

  As soon as he initiated his search, something unexpected happened. All the systems of the Ascendant began powering down. The lights of the command deck went dark, and even the hum of the ship’s air recyclers hushed.

  This is how they will attempt to keep this unit out? he thought.

  He shifted focus before power was completely lost to search for a way to reverse the sequence. It was then that the command console overloaded. Somebody else in the Ascendant’s computer switched every one of its systems back on at once, sending a powerful surge of electricity through ADIM’s main body.

  It didn’t hurt—he couldn’t feel pain—but his memory core scrambled. All contact with the other androids was lost, and his connection to the Ascendant was severed. The surge kept him from being able to remove his hand from the console as it continued to pump so many volts through him that the lights and screens throughout the room flickered.

  When it stopped, ADIM was so stunned that his limbs were useless and his vision impaired. He crumpled to his knees, unable even to reach out with his comm-link to make contact with Cassius.

  “I had a feeling your master would send you after me, abomination,” a voice said. “I knew he wasn’t dead.”

  Boots slapped against the floor as a group of figures surrounded ADIM. All he could see were blurs.

  “I’ll have to thank Cassius for this little trick when I find him,” the man continued. “It was his idea to use surges to nullify your kind back when he stood with us against Ceres.”

  A face leaned down in front of ADIM, and only when it was centimeters away was ADIM able to recognize it. It belonged to the Tribune Benjar Vakari.

  “Or did he not tell you how he destroyed the last robotics factory in the Circuit on Lutetia?” Benjar asked.

  “They… were… weak… then,” ADIM responded. His voice came out full of distortion. The pitch ran from high to low and he couldn’t control it.

  “Weak like you are now!” Benjar cackled. He stood tall and glared down his big nose upon ADIM with contempt. The guards surrounding them joined him in laughter. “So this is the son Cassius built for himself? You’re as useless as his foolish boy who died on Earth.”

  “His name… was… Caleb… Vale,” ADIM said.

&nbs
p; He was the human child of the creator and was, by definition, ADIM’s brother if ADIM could truly be considered a son. It was going to be difficult to obey his Creator’s orders to keep Benjar alive for speaking those words once ADIM found a way out of this state.

  “Caleb Vale. Caleb Vale. If I never have to hear that name again, I’ll thank the Spirit for the rest of my life!” Benjar said. “All he ever did was try to take credit for the plant the Spirit blessed us with. That’s all. You think I wanted to be forced to get rid of your maker? Cassius was a mighty tool. He was the hammer of the Tribune until that damned boy caused him to go soft. He left us no choice.”

  Benjar closed his fingers around ADIM’s metal jaw. “But we allowed him to keep his life, and this is how he repays us? Murdering innocents? Killing a Tribune? Drawing us into a war? Well, it’s over. I’m going to finish the job I should’ve eight years ago before the others decided we should be merciful, and you’re going to lead us straight to him.”

  ADIM tried to respond, but as he did, something incredibly hot began to cut through the back of his head. Benjar’s guards were attempting to open him up so that they could access his memory core.

  Benjar stood. “If this is how he wants to fight, then I’m happy to oblige him. I’m going to pick you apart piece by piece, creature. I’m going to ravage your memory and reprogram you so that the next time you return to your master, I can watch with a smile as the monster he loves so dearly puts a real bullet through his skull. Then I’ll send both your Spiritless bodies hurtling into the sun. The people of the Tribune will rejoice for our defeat of the Ceresians, but that will be my true victory.”

  ADIM felt fingers poking into his head enclosure. For the first time in his short existence, his main body was compromised. All the millions of seconds of memories he’d collected, everything that made him different than the other androids, that made him ADIM, were being threatened.

  Is this why they fear death? he thought.

  For once he understood that very primitive and human emotion. While he could not die like they could, his “death” meant he could no longer protect his Creator. That was a service he needed to provide.

  ADIM transferred every ounce of his remaining power to his memory core. His limbs stopped twitching. His vision went completely blank. His main body was as useless as a rag doll, and with all that was left of him, he reached out. An android in his network lay outside the entrance of the command deck, sawed in half, but still active and wielding its gun. Soldiers were in its way, but they were watching Benjar from across the room.

  “This… unit… Cassius… Vale’s… son.” ADIM spoke from his main body. He had to distract Benjar and the men working to access his head. They had no idea how to operate him like his Creator did, and he needed to buy some time before they discovered how to fully power him off.

  Benjar scoffed. “You are a hunk of metal. A cheap illusion of life empty of the Spirit’s grace.”

  The cloven android crawled nearer slowly. ADIM positioned it to aim its rifle between the legs of two soldiers.

  “No…” ADIM replied. “The Spirit is the illusion.”

  That was one of Cassius’ first lessons. ADIM was real. He walked, he served, and now he even feared. Like a human backed into a corner and deciding to fight even though it was futile. The Spirit was a concept. By all logic, it had to be, as its presence could not be proved with facts or data. And ADIM didn’t trade in hypotheticals.

  “I… am… ADIM,” he proclaimed.

  As soon as the words escaped his vocal systems, he commanded the android outside to fire its entire magazine at the command console rigged to cripple him. It took every last bit of his power. And as the console exploded in a dazzling display of sparks and flames, ADIM shut down fully for the first time since Cassius had switched him on.

  12

  Chapter Twelve—Sage

  Bullets whizzed by Sage’s visor, unleashed from the flashing muzzles of a green wall of Tribunal soldiers. They were lined up in front of the brig’s main exit and had Sage, Talon, Tarsis, and the rest of the Ceresians pinned down.

  Talon grabbed Sage’s shoulder and shouted, “What do we do?”

  “We’ve got to push through,” she answered. “It’s the only way.”

  “Great.” Tarsis coughed. “And how are you expecting to do that? Or was it all part of Cassius’ plan to get rid of us?”

  Sage raised her pulse-rifle with her artificial arm and poked it around the corner to fire blindly. A bullet or two grazed off her metal forearm as she did, but it held up. It was constructed out of the same nearly indestructible alloy as ADIM.

  By the time her magazine was empty, Sage had no doubt she’d hit a few Tribunals. After shooting the one wrestling Talon earlier, it was getting easier to fight them with fatal force. They were her people, but they knew what they’d signed up for in the name of the Spirit. And they’d return to it in glory for their service. Much better than living in a war-torn Circuit.

  Still, her efforts weren’t enough. The disciplined line of Tribunal soldiers pressed closer.

  “Screw this!” one of the rescued Ceresians hollered. He raised his gun and charged out into the hallway. He barely got off a shot before he was riddled with holes.

  Sage reloaded, extended her artificial arm, and fired blindly once more. Again, her arm was battered but managed to hold up, only this time a chorus of screams followed. Much more screaming than there should’ve been.

  “The creatures are behind us!” someone shouted in terror from the Tribunal ranks.

  Extraneous gunfire clanged against the walls of the passage. Sage peered around the corner and saw white-eyed androids leaping up over the Tribunal lines.

  She couldn’t believe it. Cassius’ monster had sent them down to help with their escape on his own. An android—an abomination—was saving her life by choice.

  Tarsis seemed to notice as well. “Charge!” he croaked out, just enough to signal the crowd of freed Ceresian prisoners to follow him into the hall. Bullets flew in every direction. Sage glanced back over her shoulder into Talon’s watery blue eyes. She could tell how much he wanted to join his people in the fight, but nothing would pry him off his daughter. She wasn’t going to let anything happen to either of them.

  “Stay behind me,” she ordered before she bounded out into the corridor to join the fray.

  It was chaos. Bodies were everywhere. She jumped as high as she could and stabbed the blade of her artificial arm into the ceiling. While hanging there, she used her human arm to shoot at anything in green. The gun was heavy, but she clenched her jaw and maintained her aim.

  Once her muscles couldn’t stand it any longer, she dropped and rolled forward. The butt of a gun swung at her, but she twisted out of the way and cut the Tribunal across the stomach. She flipped her rifle over to her artificial hand and shot another one through the chest.

  That was when her magazine ran out again. She dropped the gun, and as she did, she caught a reflection off a corpse’s tinted visor. Talon and Elisha were right behind her.

  The body of an android flew in front of her. She evaded it and bowled over a soldier. Behind that soldier, she saw Tarsis receive a blow to the head from the gun butt of a Tribunal and stumble back onto his rear. As the soldier took aim to finish Tarsis off, Sage leapt through the air, over the Vergent, and planted her blade deep in the Tribunal’s chest. His gun went off as he toppled over, the bullet striking Sage in her hip.

  She howled in pain. It was a clean shot, straight through a weak point in her armor and out the other side without hitting anything vital. She fell to her knees, and as she did, she saw the back of Tarsis’ exo-suit soar over her and grasp another soldier by the throat. Even through her helmet she could hear the man’s neck crunch. Tarsis tossed him to the side before grabbing Sage’s arm and yanking her to her feet with as much noise as a construction crane.

  No other soldiers were left standing.

  “Can you still move?” Tarsis asked.

>   “I’ll be fine.” Sage spit a gob of blood into the base of her helmet. Implant or not, she had been trained to tolerate pain. All she had to do was bite the inside of her cheek and focus on the task at hand.

  Tarsis nodded. “Let’s get them out of here, then. Forward! To the hangar!”

  Only two Ceresian prisoners survived the scrum. A handful of androids remained intact as well. Sage checked to make sure Talon was on her heels, and then they all pressed on. She snatched a new pulse-rifle off the ground on their way.

  The androids stayed out in front, absorbing the brunt of the few defenses left on their way back to the hangar. It was apparent that Yavortha had never expected them to escape his trap. But Sage knew that when they reached the hangar, the quiet wouldn’t last.

  She’d seen the transports arriving from the settlement on Fortuna earlier. This was where their plan was left open-ended. All that remained was finding any possible way off the Ascendant so Cassius could retrieve them. They were going to have to improvise.

  When they reached an entrance to the hangar, what remained of ADIM’s force were positioned outside it. Sage placed her back against the corner. She breathed heavily, and through the bottom of her visor, she could see a stream of her own blood running down the leg of her armor.

  The rest of her companions lined up alongside her, every one of them looking to her for answers. Everyone except for Tarsis. He leaned against the wall with two hands, wheezing, hardly able to stay on his feet.

  Sage peered into the massive hangar. It’d become a war zone. Smoking remnants of mechs and fighters littered the scorched floors, sprinkled amongst countless bodies of both metal and flesh. The android numbers were dwindling; they wouldn’t last much longer. They’d already lost the area around the vent through which they’d entered, so that wasn’t an option.