Earthfall

by Rhett C. Bruno

  “No…they weren’t, were they?” Simple. Like strolling into the most advanced city in the solar system and kidnapping one of its leaders was little more effort than repairing an air recycler. Sage was right. What would happen when Cassius died and ADIM was left alone for all of eternity? Humanity would cease to exist. None would ever be worthy, because Cassius’ rage had ensured that in his eyes nobody ever was.

  ADIM’s body remained motionless, but his eyes rotated more rapidly. “Are you not pleased?”

  Cassius struggled to swallow; his throat was too dry. “ADIM, I…” He had to focus just to manage words. “I’ve haven’t been more proud of you since the day you took your first step.”

  “Now the Circuit can be rebuilt without ever having to concern ourselves with enemies again. There will never be a reason to conceal ourselves from those who are too weak to understand or uphold your will.”

  Cassius placed his hand on ADIM’s face. It was hot to the touch from all of the information he was currently processing. ADIM had discovered what he wanted in life, and seized it like no other being ever had or could. Beyond what Cassius could have ever dreamed. He was literally handing him the keys to the entire Circuit—the crown of humanity. All Cassius had to do was stand quietly and he’d have a chance to be a ruler the likes of which hadn’t been known since the days of the Ancients. A chance to change everything…but to control nothing.

  For everything Cassius ever accomplished, he realized at that very moment that his greatest accomplishment was rendering himself useless.

  Sage was right. What would happen when he died and ADIM was left alone for all of eternity? Humanity would cease to exist. None would ever be worthy, because Cassius’ lust for revenge had ensured that in his eyes nobody ever was. “Your fleet is in position around Ceres Prime,” ADIM said. “I am primed to initiate. On your command.”

  Primed to initiate. He would miss those words. “No, ADIM,” Cassius sniveled. “It’s time for you to rest.” He drew out his pulse-pistol and fired a round straight across the back of ADIM’s head. At such close range it tore through the metal casing enough for him to shove his fingers through. Caught in a transition period of relying on ADIM’s core, Cassius knew that all of the systems comprising the Vale Protocol would deactivate with him.

  “Creator, what are you doing?” ADIM asked. His limbs stirred, but it was too late. Despite everything ADIM done, there was only one person who knew precisely how he was constructed. Cassius shifted a few hidden switches on the memory core, and ADIM’s eyes stopped spinning.

  “Cre…a…tor,” his distorted voice said.

  The purr of a dozen working consoles went quiet as ADIM’s power core dimmed. The map of the Circuit and all the red blips indicating the Tribunal ships he controlled went dark. The wires attached to him slid out. Then his head drooped forward and his chassis slumped. Cassius tried to catch it before it fell off the chair, but the body was too heavy for his old muscles to support. ADIM slammed into the floor. The impact caused Caleb’s plant to roll off the console.

  Cassius dove for it, but the slick, glassy container slipped through his fingers and shattered. He pawed at the floor, slicing his hand on a shard of glass before he found the plant. It drooped over his bloody palm, too thin to support its frilly leaves on its own. He’d never touched it before, and as he did he couldn’t help but laugh over the fact that the worthless, wiry, little shred of green had been the cause of everything.

  Cassius laid it gently over ADIM’s chest and gazed down at his proudest creation whose eyes had finally lost their red glow. The tears dripping down Cassius’ cheek splattered on his cold, metal frame—the last of his progeny.

  “Goodbye, ADIM,” Cassius said. “Goodbye, my son.”

  CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX—SAGE

  One Last Mission

  In the Tribune, the dead were cremated, their ashes sprinkled into the soil beneath a tree by a sightless Earth Whisperer. People with the proper means could even have their family members released directly into the atmosphere of Earth, to be closer to the Spirit. But there was no Earth anymore and whether the Spirit went with it or not, Sage knew she wasn’t qualified to say. All she could do was fight to hold on to her faith.

  In the far Verge, the dead were expelled into space; released into the Circuit which continued to be the only thing that sustained them. Sage had heard from traveling merchants that you could see many of their crude, metal caskets drifting in orbit around Neptune and Uranus or any of their moons.

  In Ceresian colonies the dead were placed in communal crypts submerged deep inside their asteroids, to be fittingly placed back within the rock which bore them. Presently, Sage stood in the crypt of Housing District 534 on Ceres Prime. Dim lights strung along the low, rocky ceiling provided the entire hollow with an orangey glow. However, none of it could diminish the bright green of the drink Sage held as she stared at a narrow slot in the wall into which Talon’s body had been placed.

  Ulson sat on a mechanized wheelchair to her right alongside his wife. She wasn’t sure how he survived their raid on the Tribunal Freighter all those months ago; his body was covered in burns and both of his legs were missing. Not everyone had access to synthetic limbs like she did.

  On her left was Elisha. She’d found Talon’s daughter when she reached Ceres and discovered the Monarch already at the docks selling off scraps they’d scavenged from the many husks of ruined Tribunal Ships dotting the asteroid belt. It was hard to imagine that the Spirit was completely gone when she wrapped her arms around the girl and gave her the final hug Talon would never get a chance to.

  Sage wasn’t sure if she truly understood what was going on, but the girl was misty eyed, staring silently at her father’s unadorned grave. Kitt stood beside her with his hand on her shoulder. This time he was permitted to hold a drink of his own. He was the only Vergent present. Larana stayed with her ship, which was a wise choice considering Cassius and ADIM’s actions had left the Ceresian colonies essentially leaderless along with the rest of the Circuit.

  There was nobody else present. The undertaker who ran the District 534 crypt was nowhere to be found, either killed in the war or having decided to abandon his job with so many better ones now available. It wasn’t the funeral Talon deserved, but it was the best Sage could offer. He would’ve been happy knowing that the Blue Death never got a chance to claim his life. And Elisha deserved to say goodbye.

  “He was a good man,” Ulson said. He raised his glass and both Sage and Kitt did the same. “Out of his mind, maybe, but gave Ceres a good name.”

  He glanced at Sage to say something and she swallowed a lump in her throat. She had no idea what to say. She’d never been good with her feelings, and there weren’t any words in the Circuit that came to mind. Reciting a sermon to the Earth Spirit didn’t seem fitting. Instead, she lifted her glass to her lips and emptied it in a single gulp. It was what a Ceresian would do.

  Sage let Elisha have as long as she needed with the body. She remained close by the entire time, wanting to be sure she was there when Talon’s remains were sealed away, never to be seen again. She shed a few unexpected tears as it happened, but that was all. She knew there was no reason to be sad. No amount of her love could deny the fact that he had been damned to die before they ever even met. But nobody, not Zaimur, not Cassius, could take away the fact that Talon didn’t die as some Ceresian Mercenary scrapping to earn credits however he had to. He died trying to save his people. He died a hero.

  “You comin’?” Kitt asked once the funeral ended.

  Sage nodded. She took one last moment to stare at the HOLO-Pad imbedded into Talon’s grave. All it said was his name, but there was so much more she could write. All of the things she could tell Elisha once she was old enough to understand.

  “I’ll look after her for the rest of my life,” Sage whispered. It wasn’t the most exciting mission, or the most dangerous, but it was one she was happy to take on. She took Elisha’s hand, and led her back through the tunne
ls of Ceres to the docks at the Buckle.

  The sense of anarchy throughout the settlement was plainly visible at every turn. Morastus henchmen sat around with civilians, playing cards and drinking, not sure what to do next. Those belonging to other clans did the same. Traders throughout the docks sold whatever they wanted, for whatever they wanted, causing countless fights to break out. There were even dismantled Tribunal fighters for sale. There were plenty of them floating around Ceres to choose from.

  Once they were all aboard the Monarch and it took off it was easy to see why. The Tribunal Fleet was drifting around the asteroid like a pearly white ring caught in Ceres’ orbit. The Ascendant, the Viridian, numerous frigates, and countless fighters were all there with their lights off and with no pilots left alive. The lights of Ceresian scrapper ships flitted among them, the pilots no doubt completely perplexed but wasting no time at taking advantage of a lucrative opportunity.

  Only Sage knew what had happened, and Cassius, wherever he was. Sage had stolen a Ceresian Fighter out of the Hound’s Paw’s main hangar and fled the Earth with Talon’s body, the Tribunal fleet under the control of ADIM had trailed close behind. She came close to being struck by a missile a few times, but her piloting skills helped her to stay ahead of the other Ceresians in retreat. The Tribunal fleet followed all the way to Ceres. However, when it reached the asteroid, it just stopped. Not a single shot was fired.

  Sage wasn’t sure what Cassius had done to stop his Creation from destroying everything. It was like the Circuit itself was given a reset button. A chance to start over. The ruling factions were gone, Cassius disappeared, and all that remained was humanity.

  It was enough to convince Sage to listen to Cassius’ final words, and seek out whatever it was he wanted her to see. A chance at finding the missing Solar-Ark got Captain Larana to offer the use of her ship. Sage, Elisha and the Vergents set out for Ennomos a few days later. “Incomin’ transmission,” Kitt said. He reached around Elisha, who was sitting on his lap and getting remarkably good at working the piloting controls.

  “Who is it?” Larana asked.

  Sage stepped forward to get a better look at the asteroid. It looked so plain that she couldn’t believe it could possibly have anything to do with Cassius.

  “Not sure,” Kitt said. “It’s encrypted with a pass-key. I’m getting similar readouts to the last Circuit-wide message Cassius sent out though.”

  “Can you figure it out?”

  “Workin’ on it.”

  His fingers danced across the controls as he worked. Sage leaned in even closer. She was beginning to be able to make out a spine of metal running along a trough in the asteroid. It wasn’t surprising that the message was protected. Cassius was never one to give up on anything, and whatever he was hiding was meant only for her to discover. He banked on Sage seeking out Ennomos, and like he was so often, he was right.

  “Try ADIM for the password,” she said.

  Kitt entered the name, but shook his head. Sage pursed her lips and closed her eyes, and then it came to her.

  “How about Caleb Vale.”

  The tiny image of Cassius was projected onto a HOLO-Screen in front of him.

  “Sage, my dear,” Cassius’ resonant voice spoke through the ship’s speakers.

  Sage leaned as close to the hologram as she possibly could. With her human hand she pointed to the trough on Ennomos. Kitt nodded that he noticed it, took control of the ship from Elisha, and guided it down into the rocky groove.

  “If you’re seeing this, I know I’ve done enough to earn your hatred,” Cassius continued. “I accept it, but one day I hope you’ll understand. I hope you’ll realize that what I did, I did for the good of humanity. My only regret in doing so will be losing you. I wish I could’ve been there for you after Caleb’s death. I know that deep beneath your veil of faith you’ve always blamed yourself. It wasn’t your fault. It wasn’t my fault. It was his choice to brave that vile world, and his choice alone.

  “You see, there was a time when we were a species of dreamers. Before the Circuit, the Ancients looked up to the sky and wondered how they could go beyond it. For every new challenge they discovered they built something to answer it. My son carried their torch. He wanted to heal the Earth with the technology he could understand, but there are some things beyond our control. What Caleb failed to realize is that we evolved beyond our need for Earth.”

  The Monarch raced through the valley of Ennomos. “What’s that?” Elisha pointed toward the mouth of a tremendous hangar. The outer seal opened all on its own as if they were expected.

  “The Ancients understood this,” Cassius went on. “Before they fell they wanted to seek out another homeworld. They wanted to visit the stars they so often dreamed of. I can’t say for certain why we of the Circuit abandoned that dream and chose to stay, but today our chains are broken. Within Ennomos is an Ark that was created not to circulate resources, but to allow us to claim our destiny. On the Circuit, humanity will persevere as we always have, but out there, on the next frontier, we can thrive.”

  The Monarch entered the hangar and a series of bright lights along the lofty ceiling flashed on, illuminating a familiar hangar as well as the Solar-Ark Amerigo. Kitt had to quickly pull up to avoid crashing straight into it. He maneuvered up over the top of its shimmering solar-sail, and glided over its incredible length.

  “The Ark is my gift to you,” Cassius said, his holographic lips lifting into a smile. “It is yours to do with what you will. You can return it to the Circuit, where it has been for centuries, or you can fill its chambers with those brave enough to fulfill its original purpose and seek out a new Earth. I’ve always wished I could believe in the Spirit, but if anyone can discover the world we’re meant to be on it’s you. You can find us a planet across the galaxy where there are blue skies and green grass; sights and smells we can’t even begin to fathom.”

  Cassius spread his arms out wide. He stared straight forward, looking directly at Sage’s eyes even though he was just a hologram.

  “We can’t change what we are, or what we’ve done,” he said, “but we can change the future. I leave the decision in your worthy hands, Sage Volus. One last mission…”

  Epilogue

  For Cassius Vale, the Earth had always been an alien place—a barren, volatile world where death came from beneath without warning. It was surprising to him, then, when he returned to the planet after destroying it and found it even stranger.

  Gone were the constant quakes and fissures spitting up lava. What was left behind were cool, stagnant chunks of rock which had spread as far as they could before the effects of the Gravitum Bombs faded and each piece was caught by the gravitational pull of the others. They whirled around each other, like a tightly knit asteroid field. Finally, after centuries, the Earth—the cradle of life—was completely sterilized. Gravitum clung to its cloven mantle, waiting to be mined by the industrious peoples of the Circuit.

  Cassius never thought he’d return to the world he so detested. But as his ship, the White Hand, touched down on one of its chunks, somehow it was the only place that seemed fitting. He had to wear a full enviro-suit to walk outside as he always did, though it was no longer because of the toxic atmosphere. It was because there was none. The only signs that Earth had ever been a habitable planet was a strange haze hanging above the surface comprised of ship parts and debris, along with what little moisture and gases remained before they gave way to the great vacuum. Otherwise, he may as well have been walking the surface of Ceres.

  Even gravity felt off-kilter. He was being tugged lightly in every direction as he walked and the chunks of Earth spiraled around each other, as if he were submerged in a pool with constantly shifting tides. The sensation made him nauseous, but he didn’t let it keep him from his task.

  He dragged ADIM’s frame across the parched ground by both arms toward the lip of the Euro-Continent Gravitum Mine. The G conditions remained high enough for it to be extremely heavy for his old arms. When t
hey reached the lip of the Euro-Continent Gravitum Mine he fell onto his back, panting into his helmet.

  “I should’ve built you lighter,” Cassius panted. He used the rest of his energy to prop up the deactivated android’s head so that it hung directly over the chasm. Then he fell against ADIM’s chest, panting into his helmet. He stared up at the stars, flickering through the light haze. The moon obscured a patch of them, undamaged itself except for the darkened scar where its major city used to be.

  He reached into a satchel on his suit’s belt and pulled out a small glass tube holding the plant grown by his son Caleb. The container was smaller than the original, the stringy plant folded over itself in order to fit inside. Then he pulled out his HOLO-Recorder with the last recording of Caleb.

  “You would hate me as much as Sage does, wouldn’t you?” he said. “But I hope that you’d understand.” He rotated the device in his hand, stopping when his thumb landed on the switch to activate Caleb’s embedded recording. There it remained for almost a minute before he tilted his hand and allowed it to roll off into the mine. It plummeted into the darkness, the plant following soon after.

  There were no more goodbyes left to say. Everything he’d wanted since the moment Caleb showed up on Luna with a beam through his chest had come to fruition, but with it went Cassius’ fire, his rage, his need to fight.

  He turned toward ADIM’s blank face and lightless eye-lenses. The android comprised all of those pieces, yet he’d become so much more. He was a miracle. As much as the first humans to be born out of Earth’s good graces were. It was the moment when Cassius saw New Terrene in ruins, bodies tossed around like garbage, that he realized his greatest failure. With proper guidance ADIM could have been a gift to humanity. Instead, he had to be destroyed. For ADIM’s need to replace the shackles of man with new, tighter ones wasn’t due to logic, it was instilled by Cassius. It was because ADIM could feel.