“He’s been blinded by greed,” Cassius said. “Ignoring the tenets of his own faith, and because he was right about me, the others won’t deny him.”
“I’ve seen the remnants of Kalliope, Cassius. If he set one of those off here he could—”
“He won’t have a chance to. Thanks to ADIM’s reconnaissance during the battle, we have the opening we’ve been waiting for. I’m proposing to you that we send ADIM alongside a focused strike force to commandeer the weapon.”
Zaimur bit his lip. “What happened to staying put?”
“Not a single one of your men needs to be involved. ADIM, what would you need to infiltrate the Ascendant?”
“Five hundred operational androids,” ADIM answered, just as they had rehearsed.
“Androids?” Zaimur’s brow furrowed. “Maybe your people thought they were more dangerous than they really were during the Reclaimer Wars, Cassius, but they’re no good in a fight.”
“Not presently. This unit will take control of them and improve their performance. They will serve as a distraction while this unit retrieves the prototype weapon we can use to hold Earth hostage.”
Zaimur paced across the command deck and plopped down on the captain’s chair as if he owned the ship. Cassius’ face contorted. ADIM strode forward to remove the Ceresian, but his creator held out an arm to stop him.
“If ADIM can infiltrate a New Earth Cruiser only with that, why doesn’t he just kill the bastard? Kill all the Tribunes while he’s at it?”
Cassius positioned himself in front of Zaimur. “Because, my friend, others would rise in their place. The only way to truly cripple the Tribune is to shake the faith of its populace.”
Zaimur stood. “I won’t be able to keep Yara in the dark about this. You may not want her to know about you, but this goes against the entire strategy I sold her on. She isn’t eager to sacrifice so many, you know. Neither am I.”
“Tell her exactly what we’re after then. We’ll show her one of your best agents accompanying the androids on this mission and pretend that’s all there is. You know what she’d do if she found out I was still alive.”
“She’d rip this asteroid apart.” Zaimur rubbed his chin. “I’ll have to find someone up to the task.”
“Focus on the clans. I’ll take care of that.” Cassius grinned. “I have someone perfect in mind.”
“Good. Keep me updated.” He turned to ADIM. “I’ll have my men seize five hundred androids under Morastus ownership and bring them to you.”
“This unit would prefer to accompany them,” ADIM said. “They must each be evaluated.”
Zaimur scanned ADIM from head to toe. “Fine. Just try to be discreet and please, don’t hurt anybody. Ceresians love their bots.”
• • •
Hours later ADIM was roaming the Buckle of Ceres Prime. He wore the guise of a Morastus enforcer and had half a dozen of Zaimur’s most trusted men alongside him. He even wielded a pulse-rifle for the first time. He didn’t need it of course, but it helped him look the part.
Ceresians were everywhere. More humans up close at a single time than ADIM had ever seen before. They scurried about with a frantic energy which reminded ADIM of the crews of the Tribunal Freighters he’d raided. Soldiers, merchants, civilians—everyone seemed prepared to fight. It wasn’t a good time to seize their feeble android helpers, but the Creator’s will required it. Together, with ADIM, they could be strong.
ADIM stopped as they passed by a repair shop carved into the rocky wall. Beneath an overhang fashioned out of bolted together scraps of metal, a collection of deactivated androids hung on a rack. A grime-covered mechanic was fusing the joints on one of their legs with a blow torch. He was improving the model, but not enough.
ADIM pointed to them. His followers nodded and approached the mechanic with him. “Sir, the Morastus Clan requires your bots,” one of them said. ADIM recognized him from when Zaimur pretended to shoot Cassius in the head for all of Ceres to see.
The mechanic turned around slowly and lifted a faceguard. His leathery skin was nearly black from soot. “Sorry fellas, they ain’t for sale,” he said. “I’m fixing them up for their owners.”
“They’re needed for the war effort. The owners will be compensated for their donation.”
“You’ll have to take that up with them.”
ADIM stepped forward quietly and spread his fingers over the head of one of the inactive androids. With a surge of energy he brought its pale, white eye-lenses flickering to life. In seconds he entered its active memory core, digging through code and circuitry. As he suspected, the android was in fine order; a worthy frame to which to extend his being.
“Hey!” the mechanic barked. “Hands off! I don’t care who you—” He froze as he grabbed ADIM’s wrist and his fingers fell through the holographic-skin to wrap around a thinner, colder metal limb. ADIM removed the hand and flung him against the wall of his shop.
“These six are worthy,” ADIM said, disguising his voice.
“You son of a bitch!” the mechanic groaned. He jumped to his feet and charged, but ADIM raised his pulse-rifle so that the barrel poked him in the gut. He raised his arms, eyes bright with fear.
The Morastus henchman who’d spoken grabbed him and yanked him back. He appeared nervous. “I suggest you listen to him.”
The mechanic shook him off. “You fuckin’ Morastus. Think you can do whatever you want just because there’s a war. Don’t I pay enough just to work here?”
ADIM stopped as he was about to take control of another android. He twisted his head to face the disgruntled mechanic. It would’ve been easier to remove any of those who opposed their actions, but Zaimur requested discretion and Cassius didn’t disagree. He’d been considering options to make things easier, and settled on one of his new skills—lying.
“If we do not take these units,” he said, “here will cease to exist.”
The words hushed the mechanic, and one by one ADIM took control of the other androids. They would all serve their purpose, save for one, where he discovered a faulty memory core which wouldn’t allow him to access it cleanly. There was no room for potential error.
The mechanic watched in confusion as ADIM detached the selected androids from the rack and they began to walk away in a single file line on their own. Ceresian Androids didn’t need a controller, but they weren’t autonomous beings. They pursued tasks based on basic programming and rigorous response to orders. ADIM didn’t have to say a word. In less than a minute they were all his. Their eyes were his; their bodies were his; all of their recorded memories were his.
ADIM’s experience with Zargo Morastus’ personal android had taught him much. He could control five like they’d always been a part of him. He watched with his main body as they disappeared into the crowd, making their way back to the Morastus Compound.
Soon, he would control five hundred.
CHAPTER SIX—TALON
The Only Way
Talon stood within the private Morastus crypt, buried deep beneath their compound on Ceres. Every occupied asteroid on the belt had them. Ceres itself bore thousands in its rocky mantle. They were where the remains of all Ceresians were buried after they died—one with the asteroids that bore them. Talon knew he would have a spot in one of his own soon enough, but not before he found his daughter.
Morastus henchmen kept a wary eye on him as he kneeled before an occupied slot in the craggy wall. A bust of Zargo Morastus, a likeness from before the Blue Death ravaged his aging body, was carved into the rock face. The head of his personal android lay before it, along with a collection of other tributes and electric torches that would never extinguish.
“Hello, old friend,” he whispered.
“Let’s hurry it up,” one of the guards watching him grunted. “The boss doesn’t want you out here too long.”
Talon sighed. He’d been stuck on Cassius’ ship for two weeks and was beginning to feel restless. It was the first time he had been permitted to leave, and
it had taken appealing to the guards watching the ship’s sense of admiration for their former leader to get there. Sage and Tarsis were to be held on the ship until ADIM was ready, unable to use any com-systems in order to hide the fact that Cassius was alive. Talon wondered which wrong turn in his life had led him to be dependent on the butcher of Lutetia. Somehow it seemed inevitable. Zargo’s own genetic son had thrown his lot in with Cassius Vale, after all.
“I don’t trust any of them, sir,” Talon said. “Sage, Cassius, your son. I wish you were still in charge. I wish…” Talon chewed on his lip to keep it from trembling. He reached out and placed his hand over the bust’s face, noticing the bright blue veins splaying under his pale flesh. “At least I got to see you one last time before you were set free. Goodbye, sir, I can never repay you for letting me take care of my girl. If you are here, or anywhere watching, try to keep me alive until I can save her. Keep us all alive.”
The guard tapped Talon on the shoulder with a rifle. “Time’s up,” he said. “Let’s go.”
• • •
Talon followed the guard up a lift and through a network of familiar tunnels toward one of the Morastus hangars. From what he gathered by listening to the newsfeeds and conversations he passed, Zaimur and Yara Lakura were working hand-in-hand to lead the war effort. They urged patience, and so while the Tribunal fleet recovered quickly from Eureka and had already begun their incursion into the Ignescent Cell, the Ceresians did nothing. Instead, they focused on fortifying Ceres and expanding their own fleets. Several outer colonies had already been toppled.
It was a strategy loony enough to only have been concocted in Cassius Vale’s head. Only Talon and a few others knew who was guiding Zaimur’s hands from the shadows. Talon wasn’t sure what he was up to, but it seemed inconceivable that the same man who’d left the asteroid belt a smoldering cinder years before could be its only hope for survival. He 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 turned, another former enemy crossed his path. On one hand there was Cassius. On the other was the woman who’d murdered his friend Vellish and sent him to wither away 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.
He couldn’t escape the fear that they were all lying and she was gone. There was no conceivable reason they would though. He was worthless by himself, and if Sage was trying to kill Cassius for her former masters than she’d already had plenty of chances. If Cassius really wanted to infiltrate the Ascendant, then he didn’t need Elisha as an excuse. Cassius got whatever he wanted. He had the entire Ceresian fleet at his beck and call, and not even a single captain knew it.
A few times over the long, quiet nights, Talon thought about escaping the White Hand and taking matters into his own hands. He could expose Cassius, cause mutiny 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.
Talon headed directly to the medical bay of the White Hand after being locked back on board. The Vergent was lying 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 attached to 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 before he died, only Tarsis was decades younger. His veins were as bright blue as the Gravitum Generator on Eureka, and 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.
Sage stood in the med-bay’s entrance. She wore a clean set of Morastus armor thanks to Cassius. It made Talon sick to see her donning the same blue he himself had worn for most of his life. Black was her true color. The color of the metal hand resting on her hip.
“You don’t know where he’ll go,” Talon countered, unable to mask the acid in his tone.
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 a flood of emotions rushed through him. Hatred for what she’d done, and embarrassment that he’d allowed himself to be seduced by an Executor; that when he noticed the pleasant arc of her back out of the corner of his eyes he still felt a tinge of excitement 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 believes,” Sage said.
“Unfortunately,” said Talon. “All your Spirit seems to bring anyone is suffering and death.”
“Should our trials be easy? The Spirit must prove us worthy of re-inhabiting our fallen homeworld.”
“Let it stay that way. My people have always been happy out here in the vacuum. 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 grew 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 just the Tribune’s.”
“Well I’m sorry, Sage, I really am, but that doesn’t sound like a god worth wasting breath on to me.”
“You’re wrong. 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 placed his hand on Tarsis’ chest and felt it inflate with air from a respirator. “I’ve heard your prayers. ‘Blessed with this ground beneath us?’ I walk here 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, and perhaps you will 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 and she turned. She started to walk out of the medical 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 whispered. “I heard every day how the faithless Ceresians were evil, immoral, and corrupt. I’d never actually spoken with any before I met you. 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. You attacked the New Earth Tribunal and they acted accordingly, same as your people would’ve done in their position.
“But I did care. I’ve killed countless people, Talon. So many that I grew numb to it. At first I joined the Executors to atone for Cassius’ son’s sins on Earth, but by the time we met I could barely remember who he was. Who I was. And maybe it was because my implant was damaged like Cassius told me, yet when I shot Vellish, for the first time in years I felt something. Guilt maybe? Regret? I just know that I am truly sorry. Even if I can never earn your forgiveness or your trust, 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 that he was staring directly into her 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 dripping from his cheeks.
“No way is she lying,” Tarsis grumbled weakly. “Your daughter is alive.”
Talon glanced 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.
He did. 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 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 when he joined him in the afterlife—if there was one—for doing so.
CHAPTER SEVEN—SAGE
Androids
Earthfall Page 5
