The Circuit, Book 1

by Rhett C. Bruno

  “Welcome back, Your Eminence,” said the voice from ground control after a short pause. “Sorry about that, can’t be too cautious with all the stolen ships out there.”

  “No need to apologize. I encourage an unwavering sense of duty.”

  “Thank you, Your Eminence. Please, enjoy your stay.”

  It was a formality, of course. Many years had passed since Cassius had been a lauded member of the Tribunal Council, but he still retained a few of the perks. One such was that not many personal ships were permitted to enter Martian space without being gunned down by planetary rails. Most had to go through the Conduit Station—a long and tedious process he was always content to avoid.

  “Three minutes until arrival at Tharsis Ground Terminal. Please remain seated for the duration of the docking process,” Gaia advised as the turbulance intensified.

  Cassius sat silently, allowing his mind to wander. He never enjoyed returning to the Renascent Cell, so near Earth. It brought back unpleasant memories. He could picture himself stumbling toward a half-broken ship, falling to his knees in a pool of blood, pounding the deck until he was restrained. He remembered wanting to strangle those who grabbed him. Wanting to unleash his rage for no good reason. To let go…

  “Docking complete.”

  Her voice snapped him out of the daydream. No tears filled his eyes from reminiscence of that tragedy—those had run dry long ago. Only a haunting feeling remained, like the dull edge of a blade being dragged eternally around the circumference of his heart.

  The ship’s engines powered down and the opposite side of the cargo bay splayed open like a blooming rose. Cassius stood, straightened his outfit, and stepped out into the terminal.

  His appearance was somber. The Ex-Tribune—the grimness of a man who had lived too long and seen too much. He wore his hair in a clean, tapered cut and it was mostly gray, like the prim beard hugging his stern jaw. Covering his body from his shoulders to just above his knees was a violet tunic with a black trim pulled over a silvery, carbon-fiber underlay that appeared like a tightly knit mesh of armor. On each forearm was a black bracer bearing the symbolic image of a lidless eye. The right one was also fitted with a slender, HOLO-Screen projector. A holster hung from a plated belt cradling a custom-made pulse-pistol—black with bright red edging. A jagged blade protruded from beneath its long barrel.

  “Your Eminence.” A black-and-green armored Tribunal Soldier stepped before him. The man swiftly dropped to a single knee and placed his free hand down so the tips of his fingers grazed the floor. Then he rose. “I will escort you to the assembly.”

  “How proper of you, but it’s really not necessary,” Cassius said. He tried to continue forward but the soldier held out his arm to impede him.

  “It’s not up to us,” the soldier commanded with a scowl that seemed to be permanently painted on his face.

  “If you insist.” Cassius took a lengthy, gratuitous stride backward as if to mock him. “Lead on.”

  “It’s for your own protection. These are dangerous times.”

  “I hadn’t noticed.” Cassius beckoned him along with perfectly manicured hands. “By all means then, protect me.”

  The soldier was less than amused but complied. Like all soldiers of the Tribune, he’d be well aware of Cassius’ reputation.

  They entered the long, translucent hallway running alongside a string of sealed hangar bays. The spaceport wasn’t busy. With only four acting members of the Tribunal Council at any given time, and few others permitted to use the Tharsis Ground Terminal, it rarely ever was.

  They did not, however, skimp on defenses. Soldiers were posted outside every entrance and stationed incrementally along the outer glass were hulking combat mechs.

  The mechanized, bipedal war-suits were designed like overgrown, metal primates standing upright. They served as the tanks of the Tribune, able to maneuver and traverse interior landscapes in a way wheels could not. Built into their core was a sealed cockpit carrying a single pilot who was wired to cameras and scanners capable of providing three-hundred and sixty degrees of vision. That, plus a heavy arsenal of firearms, made them devastating weapons.

  “These are a newer model than I’ve seen,” Cassius noticed as he approached one.

  “Just now being manufactured,” the soldier said. “I suppose you wouldn’t see them way out in the Nascent Cell yet.”

  There was a hint of contempt in the man’s tone. Cassius chose to ignore it as he stopped in front of the metallic giant. Everything about it was bulky. The plates were thicker and more vastly layered than ADIM’s. Standing at two times his height, the weaponry fixed to each of its arms and shoulders was heavy enough to tear into a small cruiser. The shimmering silver coat was neither dented nor marked. There were hardly any superfluous or decorative parts, not even a head atop the shoulders to make it appear more human. Only NET: V was inscribed, in green, onto the chest-plate.

  “The Mark V combat mech packs more punch than any other in all of the Circuit. They even have a retractable light-rail running like a spine up their backs,” the soldier declared proudly.

  These wouldn’t stand a chance against ADIM, Cassius thought to himself before saying: “I didn’t realize we were going to war again.”

  “Not yet, but we’ll be ready when it happens. We should’ve put down those damn Ceresians for good when we had the chance.”

  “Sounds like you’re looking forward to it.”

  Cassius ran his hand along the war machine’s leg. The machine kicked out slowly, nearly knocking Cassius over as it began to trudge down the hall.

  “Careful now, Your Eminence.” The soldier grabbed Cassius’ arm to steady him. “Anyway, there isn’t much action patrolling a spaceport, I’ll tell you that. Soon those damned rebels will bite off more than they can chew, and I’ll be ready.”

  “So we’re calling them rebels now?” he said, still watching as the machine rumbled down the corridor. He scoffed at the lumbering construction, its joints hissing like steam-powered pistons with every motion.

  “Any who stand against the Tribune, stand against humanity.”

  They stopped in front of a branching platform. It ran beside a long tramway and vanished into the rust-colored landscape of Mars. Cassius reached out and placed his hand on the soldier’s shoulder. “I do so pity you…but you’re right. They will not sit idly by for much longer.”

  The guard shuffled Cassius into one of the cars. The magnetized line extended across the plains and up a dormant volcano known as Pavonis Mons. New Terrene lay on the other side of it, but the capital city of both Mars and the Tribune was eclipsed by the massive peak encompassing the entire scope of their vision. It climbed toward the far reaches of the thin atmosphere and in a small niche at the crest was the silhouette of a construct. It was Midway Terminal, a massive structure which sliced upward like a key cleaved in half. There was motion between its two towers, most likely transports rising toward a hazy, gray blob hovering over the planet—one of the many Conduit Stations built to receive the Solar-Arks outlining the Circuit.

  The ride was long but the views were beautiful. Shades of red, orange, and brown blended over a soft, rolling surface. Dotting the horizon were three enormous mountains drowned in a rusty haze, each of them bigger than the next, the furthest even dwarfing Pavonis Mons. As the tram ascended, the sky grew lighter, like a thin amber paste with an aura of blue surrounding the white hot sun. Then they caught a glimpse of their destination, a gleaming edifice of glass blazing like a torch nested within the hollowed base of Midway Terminal.

  The seat of the Tribunal Council on Mars.

  “I forget how beautiful it is here,” Cassius marveled as he stared out of the window. “Colors so foreign to Titan.”

  “Must you talk so much?” the soldier grumbled.

  “Though the hospitality is lacking.” Cassius sighed. “You know, I remember you.”

  “Do you now?”

  “A promising recruit, I want to say…eight years ago or
so. You dreamed of being an Executor. What was it again…Toldo? Toldo Vaan! Yes, that was it. I recognize your face.”

  The soldier’s grimace finally lifted as he turned with renewed interest. “Toldro sir, but yeah, that’d be me.”

  “Ahh, Toldro. I won’t forget again. Judging by your demeanor, I presume that dream proved fruitless?”

  “You were just off the Tribunal Council when I was rejected. They said I wasn’t ready. Chose a girl over me for the Ancient’s sake.”

  Cassius paused. He remembered the girl well…too well. “It is not a life I would dole out thoughtlessly.” He placed his hand on Toldro’s forearm consolingly. “But you’re still young. I’ll put in a word for you.”

  “Sir?” Toldro appeared stunned.

  “I may have little respect left for those who preside over you, or for myself when I held their title for that matter, but the Circuit needs men like you. When I was your age I craved action. My father may have despised me for it, but with all my heart I craved it. Then I saw war for myself…” Cassius ruminated, stopping to glance out of the window as the car came to a grinding halt.

  “Are all of the stories about you true?”

  Cassius smirked and briskly sprung to his feet. “That is a story for another day.” He patted Toldro on the back. “I can take it from here. You’ll do fine, Toldro Vaan. Just smile more. You don’t want to end up like me.”

  Still in awe, the guard could only manage a meager nod as he watched Cassius step out of the car into the Tribunal Citadel on Mars.

  CHAPTER THREE—SAGE VOLUS

  Spirit of the Earth

  Sage Volus stepped through the hulking, metal doors of a chapel not far from her home in the underworld of New Terrene. Unlike most of the Circuit, the space was lit only by a line of basins down the center aisle, which bore crackling flames. The walls and ceilings were plated with crude slabs of fitted metal, ribbed with tall vaults in a way that spoke of its age. A raised altar bearing a leafless, flowerless tree stood at the end of the chamber. Its bark was chipped and scraped to the sap, but it was alive—a gift from the ancient surface of Earth.

  “Sit, my children.” The Earth Whisperer’s arms were spread wide, his flickering shadow caressed the tree as he spoke. He wore a dark green robe wrapped by a knotted sash strung from thin strands of wood. There were cavernous scars over his eyes which made him blind—the mark of the Earth Whisperers. “Let the air of our gracious Tribune wash over you like a cleansing wave.”

  Sage joined the hundreds of others, slipping into the last open seat of the furthest pew from the altar. She clasped her hands together and leaned her head forward, letting the ends of her fire-red hair drape down over her wrists. As she did, she kept her eyes vigilant, searching the crowd for any who seemed out of the ordinary.

  “I sense a full room today. Good. Our people need us now more than ever.” The Earth Whisperer stepped down from the altar and moved along the aisle with remarkable propriety for a blind man. “The Spirit of the Earth binds us. It guides us. A collective unconscious buried deep within the surface of our Homeworld. She may appear broken, riddled with flames and trembling rock, but deep within her loins, she holds us close as her chosen progeny! So far from her core, she provides the gravity for this very room.” He pointed to the barren tree and then out toward the crowd. “And the lives she has not forsaken. The Tribune guides us, my children, to atone for the sins of the Ancients so that we may once again walk the green pastures of the world which bore us.”

  There was a long silence. Sage listened to the words she’d heard a thousand times she kept her eyes peeled for the person she was looking for. Nobody moved. Nobody even made a sound as the Earth Whisperer returned to the altar to continue his sermon.

  “There are some of us, however, who would deny the Spirit of the Earth; who would disregard the very force that binds us, that gave rise to our being thousands of years before the Circuit or the skyscrapers of the Ancient’s cities! So pray with me now. Beg her Spirit for the forgiveness of those lost souls who would seek to deny our redemption. Hundreds of your brothers and sisters have been lost to the cowardly actions of the Ceresian heretics in the passing weeks. Innocent men set upon in space, so far from their families and their homes!” His long nails scraped along the surface of the tree’s bark. “May they join with the Spirit.”

  The Earth Whisperer fell to his knees and placed his hands down so that only the very tips of his fingers grazed the floor. Sage and the rest of the flock followed him, sliding to their knees in front of the rows of benches spaced far enough apart to fit their prostrate bodies.

  “We are blessed with ground beneath us,” the Earth Whisperer said, beginning the communal prayer. “We are blessed to walk this plane under the pull of the Earth, never deviating from Her forces and how they’ve shaped us.”

  After every sentence, the congregation repeated after him with drone-like synchronization. Sage knew the words by heart, but she only mouthed them softly. She was listening for someone who didn’t know what to say, scanning with her peripherals to find someone merely trying to blend in as she kept her head bowed.

  She didn’t notice anything out of the ordinary, and after a while, she couldn’t help but concentrate on praying. She let the words fill her heart with hope and recited them with all of the fervor she could muster.

  “Our Homeworld has been blighted by darkness, but we are the light. Those beside me, those beneath me, and above me—ours is a collective unconscious, bound to each other and to the soul of the Earth. We are, all of us, shards of that Spirit—never alone as the dark void closes in. This day is yet another test of my conviction, though the Earth may be wreathed in flame and shadow, she remains within me. May those who have left to join this essence guide my daily endeavors. Redemption is near. May my faith be eternal and unwavering, so that I may one day walk the Earth’s untainted surface with those deserving at my side.”

  After he finished speaking, The Earth Whisperer slid his hands along the floor until he was in full kowtow, and then gently pressed his lips against the flat surface. Sage and the others did the same. Then the congregation was invited, row by row, to walk up to the altar and stroke the bark of the tree.

  Sage didn’t bother getting in line. She waited in silence until all the rest had finished at the altar and left the chapel entirely. Still, nobody appeared suspicious. When the room was empty, aside from the Earth Whisperer, she allowed herself to be certain that the terrorist she was after wasn’t targeting the Chapel.

  “Are you unable to walk my child?” the Earth Whisperer asked as he placed his wrinkled hand on her shoulder with remarkable ease for a blind man. “I will accompany you to the Earth Tree if you need assistance.”

  “I am very able, holiness.” She got to her feet and shuffled passed him toward the altar. “I didn’t want to disturb the others.”

  “I see. Something to hide I presume.”

  She stopped in her tracks, just before she reached the altar. She looked down at her hands, the right one made of cold metal. She squeezed them into two fists.

  “You need not hide anything from me, my dear. My gaze pierces flesh.” He caught up to her again and put his arm around her shoulder.

  She shrugged him off and stepped up onto the altar.

  “A lost soul perhaps? Broken of her faith.”

  “Never.” Sage gently pressed her lips against the coarse bark. It was still moist from the kisses of countless others.

  “Then I know what you are, and I hope with all my heart that the Spirit is with you. There is another creed to which you owe your true allegiance.” He began reciting, “‘I am a knight in the darkness, a vessel of their wisdom. I am the silent hand of the Tribune’”

  Sage’s hand instinctually fell to her pistol. She whipped her body around so quickly that he would have been dead before the beginnings of another word slipped through his lips. But as her arm came around she found his hand resting calmly atop her metal wrist.

  “M
y dear, you are not as alone as you think,” he said. He tilted his head and pulled away strands of messy hair to reveal a thin, barely noticeable scar running up the back of his scalp. The same scar she bore.

  Her artificial hand didn’t relinquish its grip on the handle of her pistol but she froze completely. She looked into the gory, empty sockets in the Earth Whisperers skull that were sown together by a deep gash across his nose. Her stare didn’t budge until the cavernous chapel was filled with the sound of a shrill alarm.

  “The Feed will begin soon. You shouldn’t go hungry.” He turned and began to walk away from the altar, his unexpected grace explained by Sage’s new discovery that he had once been an Executor.

  “I’ve never met another,” she said to him.

  “Another what?” The Earth Whisperer stopped to face her again and grinned. “The Spirit of the Earth is truly marvelous. May it guide you always.” He clasped his hand over his heart and bowed.

  CHAPTER FOUR—CASSIUS VALE

  The House of the Tribune

  The Tribunal Citadel on Mars was just as Cassius remembered. There was nothing overly ostentatious about it at first glance. Like most architecture of any substance in the Circuit, it was minimal and elegant. Glossy white floors wrapped a circular pool of water and on an island in the center, a tree bore pink flowers. The walls were stark, coated in blackish obsidian with rifts running in rigid patterns down their smooth surfaces. They were arranged to form a perfectly symmetrical hexagon, with the far side opening up to a grand staircase. He could see the flicker of flame licking the top of the polished stone steps beyond which the assembly room lay.

  “Water, Your Eminence?” A servant girl in a scanty leotard approached him from the side. With a tray raised in one hand, she managed to fall to one knee and touch the floor near Cassius’ foot with her free hand. In the center of the platter was a tall glass of the purest water imaginable.

  “No, thank you, my dear,” Cassius replied. He lifted her head by the chin. Her hair was soft and clean, but her face was hardly similar. Even the layers of overdone, pallid makeup couldn’t mask her gaunt cheeks and the detached look in her eyes as they stared thirstily at the water.