“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. I don’t expect you to understand, but Sage…” Cassius exhaled. “I loved my son with all of my heart, but she 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 world, 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 understand. We have never required assistance. Every human aboard the Monarch has expressly wished for your death or been affiliated with those who do.”
“You’ll be hard pressed to find anyone who hasn’t wished for that these days,” Cassius chuckled.
“They must all be eliminated.”
Cassius wrapped his hand around 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. From all ADIM had seen, unworthy humans were stubborn. Even when outmatched, they fought back rather than adapt. He had seen it with the crews of the Tribunal Freighters he stole, and he was seeing it in every Ceresian who took up a gun to fight the vastly more powerful Tribune rather than bend a knee.
“That is incorrect, Creator,” ADIM said. “The Circuit is reliant on the presence of Earth as is. Without it, the Circuit, as it has existed for centuries, would cease to be.”
Cassius released him. His eyebrows lifted and he regarded ADIM with pride. “Physically, yes you’re right,” he said. “When I speak of the Circuit, however, I’m merely referring to how we live now after Earth’s fall. Nothing can bring our homeworld back, but until it’s gone for good, our species will cling to it. Call it instinct, or familiarity. The Circuit I desire is vast and ever expanding, not constricted. That is the future. Our future.”
“Then we must eliminate those who would stunt human evolution,” ADIM corrected himself.
“We can start there.” Cassius grinned and approached the command deck’s expansive viewport. Millions of stars shone through it, like shards of silver sprinkled on a stretched sheet of black velvet. “The Earth fell to give us the stars, not stay put and pray for its return,” he said. “The Tribune must see their faith shattered. The Ceresian clans must realize that the wealth of the asteroid belt pales in comparison with the universe. Together, ADIM, we will show all of them the way.”
“Yes, Creator.” ADIM joined Cassius at the viewport. He too began to stare through it, until he noticed something out of the ordinary. He lifted his arm to point at one of the brighter lights in space. “That is the Ascendant.”
“It is time then.” Cassius turned and began walking briskly toward the command deck’s exit. ADIM followed close behind.
“We will be within range of the Ascendant in fifty-seven seconds.”
“Slow our approach. Signal the Monarch to do the same.”
ADIM quickly located the synced android that was standing closest to Sage aboard the Monarch. He trusted her least, but Cassius was right that she was likely the only one strong enough to survive the battle.
“Prepare for ejection,” ADIM said to her, his voice streaming through the others’ vocal emitters. “We are in range.”
Sage snapped around, her eyes pinned down the sights of her rifle. She lowered it when she saw the voice emanated from an android, but her grimace never lifted.
“We’re ready,” she grumbled. “On your signal.”
ADIM returned focus to his main body as it walked beside Cassius. As they traversed the White Hand’s spacious corridors a long line of androids walked along with them. ADIM signaled the bow thrusters of the White Hand to go on. He grabbed Cassius to hold him steady as the walls of the ship vibrated until entering drifting speed.
“Thank you, ADIM.”
They entered the cargo bay, filled with tight rows of androids all surrounding the Shadow Chariot. The androids parted for Cassius and ADIM’s main body. Their hundreds of pale eye-lenses stared blankly forward, awaiting purpose. Pulse-rifles clung to their backs.
Cassius stopped walking when he reached the Shadow Chariot at the heart of the army. He spun around to marvel at them. “Can I ask you something?” he said as his gaze swept all the way back around to land on ADIM.
“Of course, Creator,” ADIM replied.
“How did you learn this trick?”
“As with all other things, Creator, this unit learned from you.”
Cassius sighed. “I wish that were true.”
“It is,” ADIM insisted. “Upon merging with the program Gaia, this unit watched how you constructed this body. This unit observed every second that you spent studying the composition of these androids. They are inferior in every way, but without them this unit would never have been brought to existence.” ADIM extended his arm to touch one of the androids, and simultaneously controlled it to extend its arm toward him. “Now, they are worthy as well. They are, we are, all ADIM.”
Cassius’ lips curved into a proud grin. “Oh, ADIM. You would’ve made a fine brother for Caleb. I’m honored to call you my child.” He wrapped his hands around the side of ADIM’s head and pressed his lips directly between his blazing, red eyes.
A surge of energy ran through ADIM’s main systems. It was like all the wires threading through his frame were going to overload and burst with sparks. He wasn’t sure exactly what it meant, but as soon as the sensation passed he longed for it as much as he had ever longed to hear Cassius’ voice after a long period without speaking. Brothers, he thought. Humans call their siblings this, but also use it informally to refer to their equals.
“This Unit and Caleb Vale are equals?” ADIM questioned, his eyes beginning to rotate hastily. ADIM performed a rapid scan of his creator’s vitals and found they were identical to when he watched the recording of Caleb. No other entity in the Circuit, living or artificial, had ever elicited a reaction on that level.
Cassius backed away, but his expression didn’t change. “As I’ve said, nobody will ever replace Caleb, but you don’t need to. You are just as dear to me. This, all of this, is your doing. We needed time and viable explanations, and because of you we’ll get both. Now go make Benjar regret ever coming here.”
ADIM stared into the glinting pupils of his creator. He’d come to understand why Cassius had chosen to build him in the first place, but it was only then that he had a precise answer as to why he existed. He would ensure that nothing would ever stand in his way of making his creator feel the way he just had again.
Nothing.
ADIM hopped over the side of the Shadow Chariot and into its cockpit. He didn’t bother linking his main body to the circuits inside so that it could feed off of his power core and turn on. Pressure and inertia were going to carry both it and him to the Ascendant. There was no reason to risk the ship being detected by Tribunal scanners unless he actually needed it, no matter how advanced its stealth systems.
“I still don’t think you should risk bringing it,” Cassius said. “I’ll be able to retrieve you.”
“This Unit remains uncertain about the length of time hampering the Ascendant’s systems will take,” ADIM explained. “If this unit takes longer than the others, they will require your assistance. You believe they are necessary, so this unit will agree. A second retrieval by you would become impossible.”
“This is your plan. If you think you’ll need it, I trust you. But try not to take long. When you return we’ll finally crack open the Earth together.”
“This unit will not fail.”
“You never do, ADIM,” Cassius said. “You never do.” He
patted the Shadow Chariot on its hull, looked ADIM over one last time, and then headed out of the cargo bay. “Goodbye, ADIM.”
“Goodbye, Creator,” he said.
ADIM signaled the cargo bay’s interior exit to shut once Cassius was through. Then the exit ramp flew open. The rapid change in pressure immediately pulled the Shadow Chariot and ADIM’s android army, thrusting them out into space.
CHAPTER NINE—SAGE
This One is for Me
“Prepare for ejection. We are in range,” a steely voice said to Sage.
It came from behind her. She figured out who it was when she was halfway around, but that didn’t stop her from aiming her rifle directly toward the head of the android that’d spoken. Being surrounded by more than a hundred of the metal creatures had her on edge. Especially when they talked.
“We’re ready,” Sage grumbled as she lowered her weapon. “On your mark.”
“You do know they’re on our side, don’t you?” Tarsis coughed.
“For now maybe.”
She didn’t know him well, but the sight of him still managed to unsettle her. He was in far worse shape than Talon. Even faith in the Spirit couldn’t save him. His flesh was stretched over the bones of his face as if it were a mask being worn by a skeleton. If it were up to her he would be left behind with the rest of the crew of the Monarch, but Talon insisted he tag along. She couldn’t say no to the man whose future was so grim.
“In position,” Captain Larana said as she entered the cargo bay of the Monarch. “You all ready?”
“We’re ready,” Talon responded. He’d been sitting alone in the corner of the room, staring intently through a long viewport out into space almost the entire time since they set off from Ceres days earlier. Sage had only seen him move to grab ration bars.
Larana crossed the room, past countless silent androids, and placed her hand on Talon’s shoulder. “Of all the people we coulda’ stumbled upon in the middle of space, I’m glad it was you two. You both made me a very rich woman. My people won’t forget.”
“We haven’t done anything. You’ve made all the calls. You’re a good captain, Larana. Trust me, I’ve known plenty of shitty ones.” Talon rose to his feet. The way his worn Morastus suit hugged his physique, Sage couldn’t imagine him ever looking as frail as Tarsis did. “Now you remember what to do, right?”
Larana shot a sidelong glance in Tarsis’ direction. He nodded to her. “Once we let you off take a hard burn back to Ceres,” she said reluctantly. “Don’t look back. Zaimur gave us our orders.”
“Good. This is a New Earth Cruiser we’re hitting. None of your crew needs to get killed for our war.”
“Won’t be only your war forever,” Larana countered. “You taught me that.”
Talon exhaled. “I did.”
“And I saw Kalliope with my own eyes. Soon the Verge might fall under the Tribune’s gaze. It’s nice to know we’re finally not alone.”
“Even still, get out of here. I won’t have anyone else dying because of me.” Talon extended his hand. She eyed it, as if shaking hands was as strange a custom to her as it had been to Sage when she first reached Ceres.
“I’ve been offered a ton not to ask questions. I don’t know what Zaimur is after, but I’ve heard enough to know what you’re after. I hope you get her back, Talon Rayne, Keeper of the Circuit, and I hope we see you soon.” Larana grasped Talon’s hand timidly, and he shook it once before she let go. “Kitt!” Larana shouted sternly when she reached the cargo bay’s exit.
The young Vergent, who often shadowed the captain’s every move when he wasn’t piloting the Monarch, tried to hide amongst a cluster of androids. He was wearing a crudely-fashioned, armored suit, and already had his helmet on. He came skulking out sheepishly.
“What do you think you’re doin’?” Larana questioned.
“I’m goin’ with them, mum,” Kitt said.
“No you ain’t. Come now.”
“But I wanna help ’em!”
“I’m sure you’d be a big one too,” Tarsis said, removing the helmet. “But we can’t trust anyone else flying this tin can if things get rough. Keeping your crew safe is a pilot’s first duty. We’ll be back on Ceres before you know it.”
Kitt lowered his head. “You promise?”
“I promise. Right, Talon?”
Sage could see the lump in Talon’s throat sink as he swallowed. He mumbled something that sounded like agreement before looking back out into space. Sage decided to join him. She was growing tired of goodbyes and after Kitt left the room Tarsis began exchanging one with Larana. They whispered to each other too softly for her to overhear.
She positioned herself beside Talon, far enough that their arms didn’t touch, with her pulse-rifle in her artificial hand and a helmet in the other. She didn’t say a word to him, but it was the closet they’d been since they stepped on the Monarch. She could hear his labored breaths, and whether they were due to nerves or the disease ravaging his body from the inside out, she wasn’t sure.
“Sage,” Talon said. She turned her head toward him so fast that it made her neck crack. “I really hope you’re telling the truth.”
“I am,” she said. “On the Spirit, I am.”
A humming noise increased throughout the cargo bay. Every android present was powering up, their eye-lenses flickering on like stars through a twilight sky. They rose to full height and pulled the rifles off of their backs.
“Initiate,” every single one of them stated simultaneously. Their hollow voices reverberated throughout the room.
“Good luck,” Larana said loud enough for everyone to hear. She’d finished bidding Tarsis farewell and was standing in the cargo bay’s interior exit. The door slammed shut and she was gone.
Talon took a few steps toward the Monarch’s exit ramp. “Helmets on,” he ordered.
Sage did as commanded. Her helmet wasn’t snug, but it wasn’t the time to be lamenting the fact that she left her own suit back in the exhaust vents of the Ascendent. She resolved to try and grab hold of it if the opportunity presented itself. It fit better.
“Check com-link frequency,” Talon said.
Sage held down a switch built into the chest-plate of her armor. “I hear you.”
Tarsis stepped up between them and cleared his throat. “Loud and clear, Talon,” he rasped.
“This unit has contact,” the cold voice of ADIM announced. Sage had to fight the sickening feeling growing in the pit of her stomach from hearing him directly in her ear. She hadn’t even realized he would be joining them in communications.
“I can never repay any of you for this, but if we don’t make it, let’s give these bastards hell.” Talon raised his free hand and gestured toward the ceiling. “Switch on oxygen now.”
The exit ramp of the Monarch fell open and they, along with all of the androids, were yanked out. The extreme pressure pulling on Sage’s joints was enough to make her close her eyes, but it didn’t last long. Once it abated she could see that she was coursing across space. The stars of the infinite universe were hardly moving, but the outline of the Ascendant grew steadily larger in front of her. It sat, hanging over the oblong shape of the asteroid Fortuna—a lustrous, metal shard shining through the blackness.
“Talon, Tarsis, are you still conscious?” Sage asked through their com-link. The entry into the great vacuum was tolerable for her, but she was concerned the force of acceleration might be too much for people with their condition.
“I am,” Talon answered, his voice somewhat strained.
“Ready to go,” Tarsis grumbled, his even weaker.
“Alright, ADIM.” She paused. She couldn’t believe she was actually working with the android, let alone calling him by the name Cassius gave him. “We’re clear.”
“This unit will make contact in three hundred and twelve seconds,” ADIM said. “They will shift interior defenses toward this unit’s position. You and the others will breach the Ascendant exactly two hundred and forty seconds
after. Timing is critical. You must operate as quickly as possible for the White Hand to retrieve you successfully.”
“Retrieve us, ADIM,” Talon said. “We’re all getting off that ship together.”
“This unit will find its own way off after the child is safe. The Creator desires to help Sage Volus, and so that is the primary objective. This unit will then impair the weapons systems of the Ascendant.”
Sage felt her stomach jump. He really does care for Cassius, she thought. It wasn’t just an illusion he crafted. They had all decided on a strategy before they set out from Ceres. Sage, Talon and Tarsis were supposed to reach the brig and find Elisha, while ADIM took care of the ship. Yet here he was, making plans of his own for the sake of what Cassius really wanted—to help her.
No, she told herself. He’s just using us.
“Do whatever you have to, android,” Sage said.
The com-link went silent after that. All she could hear while she drifted through space was the tune of her own steady breaths. She thought about whispering a prayer to the Spirit of the Earth, but as she looked around at the androids flying beside her and the abyss beyond them it didn’t feel proper. There was no ground beneath her feet. There was nothing but the inevitability of her colliding with the vessel of her former master for the second time as an enemy. She thought it would be harder for her to come to grips with the fact that she’d soon have to kill any of her own people who stood in her way. She’d done it on Eureka, but that was different. That was battle; it was survival. Now she was bringing the fight to them, and yet, there, sailing through the vacuum surrounded by a host of androids and cursed men, she felt more at peace than she had in a long time.
Nobody had asked her to do this. Even the vow she’d made to Talon all that time ago to reunite him with his daughter she’d made on her own. She wasn’t doing it to atone for the sins of Caleb Vale. She wasn’t doing it for his father. It wasn’t a task drawn out for her by the Council to be carried out in the name of the Tribune. For the first time since becoming an Executor, she was finishing a mission for herself.
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