Progeny of Vale Page 3

  Sage reached out and wrapped her metal hand around Cassius’s tightened fist. “That’s not true,” she whispered vehemently. “You were a hero.”

  “And a murderer,” Cassius added. “All depends on who you ask. It took the unexpected birth of my son for me to stop trying to prove how great I was, and after removing my implant, Caleb was the only thing I could care about. It didn’t matter that I was a Tribune; I just did what I had to do. The rest of the council knew it. They used his existence to control me, and as long as Caleb was alive I was happy to oblige—to turn a blind eye to everything about them that had begun driving me mad once the fighting stopped.” Cassius swallowed hard. “And then he was taken from me, and, like you, clarity was thrust upon me.”

  “I loved him too, Cassius,” Sage whispered. “I tried my best to move on back then. Why can’t you?”

  “You did your best to forget.”

  Sage looked like she’d just been punched in the gut. Cassius knew that she knew he was right. It was the sole reason he believed she’d decided to take her newly installed arm and become an Executor instead of returning to the Tribunal Guard. To have the pain literally trained out of her.

  “Maybe I have,” she finally replied, “but do you really think any of this will honor his sacrifice?”

  “Sacrifice,” Cassius scoffed. “As I said on Titan, humanity has become a species of shackles. Fear of the vacuum all around our tiny, contained environments. Gravitum. The Solar-Arks…and worst of all, Earth. My son gave everything trying to heal that wretched homeworld of ours, and all he got for it was a frail plant that the Tribune presents as if it was their faith which made it grow.”

  “The Spirit may have rejected what he was doing and how he was doing it, but that plant shows us that our time is coming. We just weren’t ready.”

  “We’ll never be ready! That’s the truth I want the Circuit to realize. That plant grew because my son shared my resolve, not because the Spirit wanted to allow some glimmer of hope to the faithful. He died because the Earth is broken, that’s all. It’s just another shackle, just like the Tribune is. And because of my gluttony, I handed them the entire Circuit on a silver platter. Now I’m going to take it away. I’m going to rectify what I have done.”

  Cassius could feel Sage’s legs instinctually wriggling away from him under the sheets. A hint of dread crept into her voice as she responded, “What are you planning, Cassius?”

  “To remove shackles,” He rose to his feet. “We’re going to arrive soon. You’ll need your rest if you hope to recover.”

  Then, before she could respond, he took a few long strides out of the room and sealed the door behind him.

  CHAPTER THREE—ADIM

  This Unit is…

  ADIM stood in the hangar of Cassius’s secret base on Ennomos. His hands were wrapped around the bladelike edge of the Shadow Chariot’s wing as he leaned over it, staring through the cockpit’s translucency where the female, human child he took from Kalliope to serve as a gift for Cassius had finally awoken. She sat there silently, her blue eyes bulging.

  ADIM jumped up onto the chassis of his ship. It dipped under his weight. The girl winced as he approached her. He knelt down and pressed his hands against the translucency. Other than her trembling lower lip she remained still. ADIM tilted his head slightly to the side as he analyzed her to try and get a reading on what her expression indicated. He had never seen a human child up close before, and in his experience all humans other than his Creator looked upon him with trepidation.

  She didn’t look afraid. Her thin lips were drawn into a tight line and her eyebrows were raised. ADIM signaled the Shadow Chariot’s cockpit to open; the glass slid out beneath his fingers with a whoosh. The sound seemed to startle the child, but only for a moment.

  “Are you from Ceres Prime, android?” Her tiny soprano voice teemed with curiosity.

  ADIM crept backward, surprised by the smoothness with which her words came out. Every other human besides his Creator that he had spoken with was only able to manage a stutter. They had all also been servants of the Tribune.

  She may truly be worthy, he thought to himself.

  “This unit was forged on the moon Titan.” ADIM responded. His voice was the perfect opposite of hers—cold and metallic. She didn’t back away when she heard it; she leaned closer.

  “Titan? I’ve never been there.” She climbed up out of the seat and let her short legs drape over the side of the Shadow Chariot. “Do you have an identity, android?”

  “This…” ADIM paused, feeling stumped for the first time in his short span of existence. Of all the millions of questions he had ever considered, that was never one of them. Cassius had always designated him, ADIM—an acronym for what he was. He had never questioned it. It simply was.

  “To the Creator this unit is known as ADIM,” he answered, the tiny red dots surrounding his eyes rotating rapidly.

  The girl pointed to herself. “To humans, this girl is known as Elisha,” she said proudly.

  “This unit is ADIM,” he repeated, his eyes beginning to slow down. “ADIM.”

  Elisha held back a giggle. “Hello, ADIM. Where are we?”

  ADIM didn’t answer. He wasn’t used to being addressed by anyone but his Creator. He recalled Cassius saying, “It is time for you to reveal your existence to the Circuit.” As long as he didn’t reveal their location to her he knew he was fulfilling Cassius’s will.

  Elisha suddenly decided to get up and slide down the hull of the ship. When she came to the edge she shot off of the slick surface. ADIM calculated her trajectory, and decided that the potential for injury was too great. He snatched her out of midair by the collar of her loose-fitting tunic.

  “You must not be damaged before the Creator returns.” ADIM placed her down gently.

  “You didn’t need to—” Elisha began disgruntledly, but the rest of her words died on her lips when she noticed the row of Tribunal Freighters running down the center of the massive hangar behind ADIM. “So many ships!” she shouted.

  “Six,” ADIM said.

  He started off toward the nearest one and she followed. They were different than when he’d first seized them. New, protective metal plates gave the once bulky bodies of the ships a cylindrical shape that tapered down toward the bow. They looked like they were made to absorb damage and ram objects. Each one was outfitted with new, missile bearing weaponry systems jutting from beneath their command deck viewports. Most importantly, all of the markings which would’ve signified them as Tribunal vessels were nowhere to be found.

  “What are they for?”

  “They have already served their initial purpose,” ADIM said. “They will now serve as the Creator sees fit.”

  The freighter was raised on its landing gear, and Elisha’s small stature enabled her to sprint underneath it ahead of ADIM. She ran her small hands over the smooth metal, feeling the warmth emanating from deep within. She marveled at all of its innumerable pieces—the burnished plates of metal, the reveals of wires and ducts over bright, blinking lights. Then she grabbed onto the rim of one of the ion engines poking out from beneath the back of the hull and tried to pull herself up to look inside.

  ADIM picked her off with one hand and placed her back on the ground. “Not in there,” he advised. “The ship is on standby.”

  “Are we going to fly it?” she asked as she looked up at him, swaying back and forth excitedly.

  Before he could respond, a familiar voice transmitted directly into his ADIM’s head. He had been eagerly awaiting word from his Creator since he arrived on Ennomos.

  ADIM, I am close, Cassius said, the exhaustion of a long trek through space evident in his tone. I need you to clean out the hangar. Move the freighters to the far end.

  Immediately, Creator, ADIM replied, his thoughts conveyed directly to Cassius’s ear wherever he was.

  Elisha poked him in the leg. “Hello?” she said.

  “The Creator has informed this unit that each ship must b
e relocated from the main hangar.” ADIM walked up the ramp into the freighter.

  “So we are flying?” She hopped along excitedly in his wake.

  ADIM’s head twisted around far enough to accentuate his artificiality, but it didn’t seem to affect her. He glanced at the ships’ engines. Exposure to them while powered on inside of a contained environment could be hazardous. Then he turned his attention back down at her.

  “Yes,” he said. “You must join this unit on the freighter for your safety.”

  Elisha shrieked eagerly. She hurried up the ramp ahead of him and waved him on. Her eyes pored enthusiastically over every little detail as she ran back and forth through the cargo hold. Unlike the exterior of the freighter, the inside remained in its banal, original state. Elisha followed the exposed circuitry running under the shoddily crafted, grated flooring as if she’d discovered new life or a new world.

  From what ADIM had gathered about human sentiment, the freighters wouldn’t have fallen into the category of what could be deemed appealing. He’d seen Cassius look at the far superior White Hand in the same manner that she was at the freighter. He’d heard him call it beautiful. The White Hand is a much more efficient vessel, worthy of the Creator, ADIM thought to himself. She will have to learn.

  “This way human child, Elisha,” ADIM directed, stepping by her.

  When they reached the command deck Elisha bolted in, even more thrilled than she’d been earlier. Consoles in every direction shone with the blue aura of HOLO-Screens. The sweeping viewport wrapped overhead like the eyeglass of a giant, providing a clear view across the hangar and of the other ships.

  Elisha raced to the captain’s chair, where the main command console was built into the armrest, and hopped up. The seat was discolored in a few patches from blood which had proven difficult to remove.

  “How do I help?” she glanced back at ADIM.

  “This unit does not require assistance.” ADIM plucked her off of the seat, taking it himself. He spread his long, metal fingers over the command console and his eyes began to spin rapidly. The screen flickered. In no time the ship’s engines roared on, making the grated floor rattle.

  “Where are we going?”

  ADIM didn’t answer. He guided the ship up toward the ribbed ceiling of the hangar. Elisha stared up in awe and walked toward the viewport as the freighter slowly rose. It then shot forward and she grabbed onto the rail as tightly as she could so as not to fall over. The interior of the hangar raced by, and ADIM watched her head turning back and forth to catch glimpses of everything she could.

  Halfway across the hangar, something seemed to upset her. She faced ADIM, her face white as a slate of marble. “Where are we?” she asked.

  It took very little of his processing power for ADIM to pilot a ship as simple as a Class-2 Tribunal Freighter, so he was able to consider his response carefully. The purpose of Ennomos must remain a secret, he remembered Cassius saying. Nobody, not even his gift, can know.

  “That is classified,” he said out loud.

  Elisha stared at him blankly. “This isn’t Kalliope, is it?”

  “Kalliope has been destroyed by—” ADIM said with his typical lack of emotion before pausing. It was his first time ever being dishonest with anybody. Cassius had also been adamant that the Tribune had to be blamed for what happened on Kalliope, and he had to uphold his will. “—by the New Earth Tribunal,” he finished. “This unit was sent to prevent the attack, but it was too late. My vessel could only fit a human of your proportions.” The last point, at least, was true.

  Tears welled in the corner of Elisha’s eyes. She wrinkled her nose, trying, it seemed, to remember what had happened on Kalliope. “Is Julius okay? He was showing me the mines in his suit and then something happened. Nothing could hurt him!”

  “This unit is positive that you are the only survivor of Kalliope. If Julius is the name of another human living there, then he is deceased.”

  ADIM switched on the freighter’s lower thrusters to bring it down for a gentle landing. He lifted his hand off of the console, but as he did he looked down to see Elisha wrapped around his leg at the base of the seat, weeping.

  These are tears of sorrow, he recognized. He recalled how Cassius would look occasionally when reminiscing about his human son. He wasn’t sure what to do, but he had noticed some of the humans imprisoned within Ennomos wipe away each other’s tears caused by similar emotions.

  ADIM reached down slowly, not sure if he was doing it right. Then his metallic thumb grazed Elisha’s cheek, smearing away some of the moisture. His touch caught her by surprise. Her gaze shot up in his direction, causing him to quickly yank his hand away. As soon as he did, however, she reached out and pulled it back.

  CHAPTER FOUR—TALON

  The Black Curtain

  Talon felt as though he was about to be swallowed by the black curtain of space. He stared out of the small, circular viewport at the back of the escape pod that he and the Keeper Tarsis used to escape the Solar-Ark Amerigo. There was something truly harrowing about drifting through the great vacuum with no engines or destination. It was much like drowning, only he had to wait painlessly for the air to simply run out.

  It had only been about a week, but he wondered if he would’ve been better off staying aboard the Solar-Ark. Sure, he and Tarsis had enough grainy ration bars and water stores to survive for an additional week or so, but if nobody knew about what had happened to the Amerigo, then the odds of somebody stumbling upon them were slim. It didn’t help that Tarsis slept most of the time, advanced stages of the Blue Death sapping his strength. It left Talon completely alone. And that was a bad place to be when hope seemed so fleeting.

  Damn this ancient pod. The ancients were smart enough to build that ship, but not to put engines on the only way to escape it!

  Talon imagined they were originally installed only to provide a false sense of security, being that the Arks were constructed before the solar system was filled with settlements. There would’ve been nowhere to escape to. Even still, all he could think about was that there wasn’t going be a rescue party out in the depths of the Circuit. He had merely delayed the inevitable, and it pained him to know that he’d dragged Tarsis along with him, forcing the man to forsake his sacred duties in the process.

  Another friend I’ll lead to certain death, he thought, gritting his teeth as the faces of Ulson and Vellish flashed in his memory.

  “You can stare all you want,” Tarsis grumbled, still half-asleep. “Nothing out there but stars and floating shit.”

  “Pleasant,” Talon sighed. He pressed his palm against the inner-surface of the viewport. That thin, transparent layer was all that stood between them and the air being sucked out of their lungs.

  “I’m just messing with you, Ceresian.” Tarsis chuckled weakly until he started coughing. He looked even worse than he had aboard the Amerigo. His veins were a brighter shade of blue, and his unbelievably pale face was growing gaunter. The mechanical exo-suit wrapping the entire backside of his body made it difficult to tell just how thin his limbs were, but it was clear he wouldn’t be able to walk much without it. He wiped his mouth and sat up, the still-damaged suit whining throughout the entire motion.

  “You just need to relax,” Tarsis continued. “There’s a whole Circuit worth of ships out there that’ll be trying to find out what happened to the Amerigo. One of them is bound to run into us.”

  “Hopefully. Otherwise we went from one inescapable ship to another. I keep thinking maybe we should’ve stayed on the larger one.”

  “If it wasn’t for you, I would have.”

  You will live on this ship, and you will die on this ship, Talon remembered, a chill running up his spine. That was the creed Tarsis had dedicated his life to, and one Talon himself had willingly dishonored.

  “Tarsis,” he mouthed, swallowing the lump in his throat. “I’m sorrier than you could possibly imagine. It was wrong of me to ask this of you.”

  “Relax,” Tarsis sa
id. He placed his metal-braced hand on Talon’s leg and patted it a few times. “I didn’t have much time either way. Better to help someone in need of it than to die for my own foolish honor.”

  “Yeah…” Something about Tarsis’s words cut through him like a hot round from a pulse-rifle. Before he knew it, an admission sat on the tip of his tongue that he hadn’t allowed himself to utter since the day his fate was decided. “I’m not ready to die…” he said weakly.

  Tarsis’s eyes shifted around uncomfortably. He was clearly not used to being in the position of the consoler. A lengthy spell of coughing gave him some time to come up with a response.

  “Neither was I,” he said. “Nor should anybody else out there be. I’ve become resigned to it, but it took them strapping me into this suit to finally stop fighting the truth. I’m too close now to curse my fate and deny it. I’m ready to join the Spirit of the Earth, but you’ve got fight in you still, and you’ve got to keep fighting until there’s none left.”

  “Spirit of the Earth,” Talon repeated. There was no such thing amongst Ceresians. No god. No afterlife. They lived for the moment and the Pico credits that came with it. He’d always imagined that when he died it would just be like someone erasing a digital file. “I didn’t peg you for a Tribunal,” he said.

  “I’m Vergent, born and raised!” Tarsis proudly pounded his chest. “Used to work a smuggling ring in and out of Europa. I picked up a few things there, but I don’t really know the prayers. Hell, I’m not sure if I really even believe in their Spirit, but I’d like to hope there’s something waiting for me after this all ends. Why else endure so much?”

  Talon shrugged. “I never really thought about it.”