The Circuit, Book 1

by Rhett C. Bruno

  “Caleb,” he whimpered, his eyes freezing in horror over the sight. “Caleb!” He pulled the body out, dragged it to the ground and began pushing down on his son’s chest. He attempted to kiss air into his lungs, but all he tasted was blood. “Caleb, breathe!” He repeated the same process over and over, pushing down harder and blowing harder each time. “Breathe!” he wailed, tears raining down his cheeks as he fell into his son’s chest. “Breathe…”

  “I tried to help him. He went back for this,” the pilot said. He struggled to pull something out from his belt, but before he could, Cassius turned around, roaring with a rage as feral as an unchained beast’s, and struck him across the head. A small glass cylinder with a wiry plant floating inside rolled out from the pilot’s belt as he was knocked over. Cassius was too incensed to notice.

  Tribunal guards raced over to pull Cassius away but he fought them off, driving blow after blow forward into the poor pilot’s face until the man was spitting up his own bloody teeth. It took all six of the soldiers to peel Cassius away, but he’d already beaten the pilot to the precipice of death.

  “Your Eminence, you must calm down!” Nora Gressler hollered. She hurried over to tend to the groaning pilot.

  Cassius was sitting upright on both knees, staring at his bloodied knuckles as the soldier’s around him backed away. The whole room was spinning so much that he felt like he was going to vomit. He didn’t even notice at the time that Benjar picked up the plant and tucked it into his robe.

  “Caleb,” Cassius whispered as he began crawling over to the corpse. He ran his hands through his son’s short hair and lifted his limp head to his chest, cradling it as he sobbed. Then he went to grab Caleb’s hand only to find a small, spherical HOLO-Recording device held firmly in the dead finger’s grip. When he saw it, Cassius broke down completely. He couldn’t even speak. He was shattered.

  Nearly eight years later Cassius held out that same device in the center of his palm. He had made it for Caleb, one of two small HOLO-Recorders able to transmit messages across the Circuit, or even initiate HOLO-Communications if they were within range. He’d watched the message which had never reached him for his birthday that day nearly a thousand times since. It was all he had left to remember Caleb in his final moments of life.

  Tears pooled in the corners of his eyes as he looked back up toward Enceladus, where Nora Gressler say comfortably in her throne. I will see you soon, my stunning replacement, he thought. Then he grit his teeth.

  His period of rumination was over. War had taught him well the sacrifices which had to be made in order to achieve victory. He was ready.

  CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO—ADIM

  Make Sure He Sees You First

  ADIM was in a half-hibernate state as the Shadow Chariot raced through space toward Ennomos. He was a little more than a day out of Titan when the ship’s scanner picked up an unidentified object nearby.

  He stirred promptly, studying the information which lit up a HOLO-Sscreen across the viewport. It showed a small spacefaring vessel, one that likely wouldn’t be able to make it anywhere else after it followed him to Ennomos. Cassius had taught him all the different types of Tribunal ships, so he knew right away what was following him.

  Creator, this unit is being followed by a small ship: Executor Class. ADIM transmitted the message to Cassius. He began to alter his own ship’s direction so subtly that whoever was tracking him wouldn’t notice. This unit has modified course. The Executor cannot be allowed to track the Shadow Chariot’s trajectory toward Ennomos.

  Not soon after, his Creator responded directly into his head, a hint of excitement touching his voice. Finally! I had a feeling I saw a man tracking us all the way back from the Conduit. It appears she’s not as coy as I believed.

  She? ADIM questioned.

  Tribune Nora Gressler. Benjar has her entirely on his leash now.

  Shall this unit destroy the Executor?

  Not yet. Head in your new bearing for an hour as if you haven’t noticed him. Then I want you to do something that will contradict everything I’ve ever asked of you.

  Yes, Creator?

  Disable the ship’s engines, and board it personally in order to dispose of him. Make sure he sees you first.

  ADIM’s eyes again began to rotate wildly. This unit will be discovered. He’s an Executor. It is as you said, the Tribune is always watching through the eyes of the knights in the darkness.

  I’m betting on it, Cassius said, his tone growing firm. It is time for you to reveal your existence to the Circuit.

  For all of his existence he had remained in the shadows, so the order led him to pause in a manner he wasn’t used to. He never had a strong need to interact with any other humans, but he was curious to see how they lived. By understanding his Creator’s people more extensively, he began to think that he could better help bring the change he sought.

  As the Shadow Chariot continued to cruise, his thinking shifted. He shuffled through all of the possible outcomes, not used to uncertainty. What if they fear me? He wondered to himself, though he wasn’t truly sure what that would mean for him. But the will of his creator was all that drove him, and it had never led him astray.

  This unit shall not fail.

  ADIM did as directed, waiting precisely an hour before he took complete command of the Shadow Chariot’s systems and abruptly twisted it around. He zoomed through the blackness until he got visual on the Executor ship. He held off on his missiles and instead fired low-caliber rounds, knowing that a direct missile would blow the Executor to dust and he would fail Cassius.

  The enemy pilot was more talented than expected. His ship shot up in a tight spiral out of the way before snaking around to fire one of his missiles. ADIM waited until the last second to release chaff and evaded, causing the heat-seeking projectile to zip right over the Shadow Chariot’s narrow wing. He saw it explode in a dazzling flare of orange and blue in the reflection of his viewport.

  The ability to use missiles gave ADIM’s opponent a distinct advantage. He had to kill the Executor in a more personal manner, forcing him to reconsider his tactics. He maintained a straight line, allowing the Executor to come around and trail him. Another missile locked on and he waited until it was close before releasing more chaff to draw it off of him. Then he unlatched the circuits binding him to the ship and began processing the exact speeds of both ships.

  12 seconds…11 seconds…He counted down to when he’d make his move.

  Another missile shot out. ADIM powered down the Shadow Chariot, lifted open the cockpit hatch and let himself be yanked out by the change in pressure. While soaring he made sure to target the missile and shoot it down before it could hit his ship. He then activated his magnetic chassis at the precise moment he passed over the Executor vessel. His body was sucked down onto the top of it. Focused on the Shadow Chariot, the Executor had no chance to get out of the way.

  He crawled over the translucency, looking down at the armored man sitting at the controls inside. The ship sped up and began to do a series of barrel rolls, the Executor desperately trying to fling him off, but it didn’t affect ADIM in the slightest. He climbed down over the front of the vessel, just far enough so that the man was looking right at him. ADIM saw brown eyes open wide and the man’s mouth hang in a puzzled stare.

  This Unit has been seen, Creator. ADIM transmitted to Cassius. Shall I dispose of the Executor?

  However you see fit, Cassius replied instantly, a noticeable level of satisfaction in his tone.

  Without hesitating, ADIM reared up and smashed through the translucency. He grasped the Executor by the neck and heaved him out, holding the body up in the cold vacuum of space as he stood atop the empty ship. The helmetless man grabbed at his neck frantically, his mouth trying to scream, but nothing came out. His eyes began to bulge as he thrashed around and tried to pry off ADIM’s powerful grip.

  ADIM watched for a few seconds as space rapidly sucked the air from the Executor’s lungs and left him swollen and dead. He
knew humans couldn’t survive in space, but he had never seen it.

  The human dies instantly, but this Unit does not, ADIM thought to himself. Just like on Earth, he was able to survive where humans could not. He could follow the will of the Creator to any location.

  Satisfied with the revelation, ADIM tossed the body to the side like a weightless sack of meat. Then he targeted the Shadow Chariot which was caught in inertia and was flying almost directly below. He moved into position and calculated the angle before pushing off toward it.

  Using just a slight boost by shooting off one of his personal missiles, he was able to grab hold of the hull of the Shadow Chariot and climb back into it. The cockpit sealed tight behind him, Cassius’ formidable engineering skills keeping it in tact through the entirety of the affair.

  The Executor is dead, Creator. ADIM informed Cassius.

  Well done. Reduce his ship to scraps and proceed to Ennomos. That’s all the Tribune needs to see. I have business I must attend to now. Message me when you reach the bomb. Farewell.

  The cold silence of Cassius switching off his com-link returned as ADIM brought his ship about and fired a cluster of missiles at the Executor ship. He expected it, but it was jarring nonetheless. The entire Tribune would know of his existence now, and he wished he could share that pivotal moment with his Creator. But he understood. Time was of the essence, and he had helped Cassius plan for far too long to let curiosity stand in the way.

  He stored all of his questions in his memory banks before switching the Shadow Chariot’s engines to full thrust and re-setting course for Ennomos.

  CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE—SAGE VOLUS

  The Blue Death!

  The Tribunal Freighter holding Sage, Talon, and Vellish was being escorted away from Ceresian space so that they could be dealt with. They were in the brig of the ship, stripped of their weapons. A plasma shield kept them detained in a small cell. Its orangey shimmer was only visible like a translucent film at certain angles, but it was hot enough to peel the skin from their bones should they try to escape.

  “I didn’t see it ending like this,” Talon ruminated. He was sitting against the wall of their tiny cell next to Sage. He made sure to keep his voice down since Vellish was sleeping off the pain of his wound across the way. They had dressed it as best they could with the clothes beneath their armor, but he’d already lost a lot of blood.

  Sage turned to Talon, reached out to place a reassuring hand on his thigh, and then decided against it. “It’s not over,” she assured him.

  Talon’s laugh turned into a series of guttural coughs. She’d noticed since the battle that his strength was waning. At first she looked into his solemn, drawn back eyes and thought he was merely giving up, but there was more to it. As much as he tried to hide it, he barely had the strength to lift his arms.

  “Please, Agatha.” He smiled meekly in her direction. “You saved my life once today, I don’t need you risking anything else. A pretty girl like you they might make use of, but me? Do you know what the Tribune does to Ceresians who dare attack them?”

  Cut off their arms? Sage thought to herself, remembering what she had done when she caught the bomber in New Terrene.

  “Better than most,” she said out loud, letting her head fall back against the wall. She glanced toward the entrance of their cell. Even her synthetic arm could do nothing against a plasma shield. Not that it mattered. She’d seen a New Earth Cruiser approaching through the freighter’s translucency before they were captured, which meant that at least a Hand was present. Somebody with clearance enough to know what she was. When the Tribune discovered the truth, she would be spared and most likely rewarded.

  Then why do I care?

  “I’ve heard stories of how they torture those they consider to be heretics.” Talon pointed to his forehead. “Rather them put a bullet right here and make it quick.”

  “I’ll ask them to,” Sage joked, though it didn’t take her long to realize that it might come to that. Talon attempted to laugh but all that came through was a fatigued grin. Before she even realized it, her face returned a similar expression.

  “I just hoped I’d get to see her one last time,” Talon said. He looked like he was about to cry. His eyes were as shiny as glass and his lower lip trembled.

  Sage furrowed her brow at the statement. Her human palm began to sweat. Her? She thought.

  “My daughter,” Talon quickly clarified, apparently noticing her concern. “You saw her with me once. Cute girl, eyes like mine. She’s six now, and she’s all I have.” His hands squeezed into quivering fists. He was struggling to keep his composure.

  Sage breathed a sigh of relief. Of course, the little girl. She remembered seeing her out of the corner of her eye while playing cards on Ceres. Her relief quickly turned to heartache as it dawned on her what that meant for him.

  “Talon…” she whispered gently as she unconsciously threaded her hand through his fingers. Both of them took a deep, startled gasp as she did. She stared down at their intertwined fingers, completely unsure of what she was doing. I will not lose faith amongst the faithless, she recited to herself almost out of instinct, but she didn’t let go. “I really would like to see her again one day,” she said. “To really meet her.”

  She felt Talon squeeze a little tighter as he replied: “You and me both. I’d love to see her grow into a woman.” He looked directly at Sage, a heavy tear rolling down his cheek. “A woman like you, maybe. But that was never in the cards for me.”

  Sage opened her mouth to tell him, to let him know who she really was and that she could convince the Tribune to spare his life. But just as her mouth opened she noticed something peculiar about Talon’s uncovered hands. As pale as his Ceresian skin was, the veins running down the top of them showed a little too vibrantly. Most people wouldn’t recognize it, but she had seen a number of those afflicted. The blue in them was unnatural, and it would explain why he was so physically sore even though he appeared to be in good shape. It was still in the early stages of development, but at that moment she knew why he had taken this foolish mission.

  “The Blue Death,” she mouthed somberly, lifting up their conjoined hands to get a closer look at his.

  “Wha…” Talon pulled back his hand and shot her an exasperated look. Or was it relieved? “How did you know?”

  “Your hands. The veins always start to grow brighter around the extremities before it spreads.” She shifted her body to sit in front of him and went to grab both of his hands so she could get a better look. He was hesitant at first, but before long he allowed her to take them. “How long?”

  “Little over half a year. Didn’t notice anything wrong for a few months.” He began breathing heavier as soon as the words left his lips. She could see the layer of sweat building over his brow, and could tell he had probably never opened up about it to anybody. Maybe not even Julius. Only by keeping his affliction a secret could he avoid being sent to serve the Keepers as all those with the Blue Death were supposed to.

  “I was working the mines on Kalliope,” Talon continued. “It was a typical day down there, until Zargo Morastus, Zaimur’s father, arrived for an inspection. They never told us exactly what happened, but we all suspect. An assassin was gunning for the old Patriarch and tampered with the Gravity Generator. I was meeting with Zargo on my time off, not for business, just talking about old time’s together back when I used to be one of his chief enforcers.”

  Enforcer. That explains why his friends respected everything he said, Sage noted.

  “That was when it happened,” Talon continued. He had to bite his lower lip to keep it from quivering. “The generator overloaded. He and I were the closest to the Gravitum leak, and both of us paid for it dearly. The disease has crippled him faster, old man that he is, but I won’t be far behind.”

  “I’m so sorry,” Sage said. That’s it? She scolded herself, but she didn’t know what else to say. At least she knew that she’d meant it, and truthfully she knew she shouldn’t care.
He was Ceresian.

  “It’s ironic really,” Talon said. “I stopped fighting for Zargo because I didn’t want Elisha to lose her father, but in the end I couldn’t escape my fate. We were just sharing a drink, reminiscing before he left to return to Ceres. Maybe we deserved it for all the people we’d hurt in the name of his clan, I don’t know. When you know for sure that there’s such little time left in your life, none of that matters anymore…only Elisha.”

  More tears began to roll out from his eyes and as he went to wipe his eyes, Sage threw herself forward and embraced him. It had happened before she could stop it, and for some reason after she’d wrapped her arms around him she manage to urge herself to pull them away. What am I doing? she thought.

  “You will see her again,” she whispered directly into his ear. “I promise.” Her hands rubbed the back of his bloody tunic, sliding up to run through his short hair and pull his head close. Their damp foreheads gently came together and Talon grabbed her shoulders to hold her back so he could look into her eyes.

  “You can’t promise that.” He brushed her hair back over her ear, their enamored gazes locked together as if forcefully bound.

  “I made a promise once…” The face of a young, handsome man flashed through her mind, making her wince. She ignored it and held firm. “And I broke it. I won’t break a promise again.”

  Talon tenderly placed his hands on either side of her head. “Agatha…Who are you?” he asked. He smiled through his tears and leaned in toward her when suddenly there was a loud discharge of energy. The cell’s plasma field was deactivated. Their heads snapped around to see a cohort of soldiers entering.

  “On your feet Ceresian scum!” the leader of the group grumbled as he walked in.

  His green armor was far more decorated than the others, with the gold Tribunal Emblem on his shoulder denoting that he was one of the four Hands. The collection of long, scabrous scars running down from his shaved head helped her identify which one. Hand Yavortha, she thought darkly. He was Tribune Benjar Vakari’s personal assistant, and a man who outranked even her. She’d seen him in action a few times, but she had heard even more stories of his cruel and often uncompromising tendencies. Benjar gave him a long leash.