Vagabond Souls: The Ionia Chronicles: Book 2

by Pamela Stewart

  Their faces changed, and the leader cut a look at his subordinates. “We’re sorry for the inconvenience.” He didn’t sound sorry, but he did sound scared. What her mom had said touched a panic button in his brain. His face contracted into a tight, contemplative ball, and he rubbed his hand against his mouth. His lips pressed together until they changed color. Finally, he pulled back his shoulder. “He must at least be marked. That is the law.”

  “No.” Ionia yanked from her mother then and knelt beside the box.

  “Ionia, please stop being so dramatic,” her mother said.

  Breathing became harder. The walls contracted, and the security guards side arm suddenly grew bigger and brighter until it filled her vision. They were going to kill him and bury him. The thoughts didn’t make logical sense, but every nerve ending sent one message to her brain. Danger.

  The pressure in her chest increased as she looked up into their dark accusing eyes. The officer took in her weird duster coat and eye patch, looking at her as if she was something to be shunned. She could almost sense their desire to destroy Den. To destroy her.

  A fist of fear squeezed her heart. Ionia wanted to throw herself over the box and onto Den’s chest.

  “Mom, you have to do something.” Ionia contained her emotion only with great effort.

  “Is this mark permanent?” her mother said.

  “No. Not unless the droid stays in ND for an extended period. Then we add a more permanent mark.”

  Her mother drew close to Ionia’s ear. “It’s temporary. Once we leave here, it will be fine.”

  “How do we know that? They could do anything to him.” Ionia asked. A hundred horrible thoughts of torture and mayhem danced through her imagination.

  “Trust me.” She placed a gentle hand on Ionia’s shoulder. The contact was odd enough to break through her panicked haze. Her mom rarely touched her. Rarely comforted her or took into account she was a human with real live feelings.

  Ionia relaxed a fraction. The rapid-fire beats of her heart slowed. If her mom said everything was okay, then it was probably true. Fear still twisted her guts into a wad, but she knelt next to the box. “Ok, but I’m staying here.”

  She took his slack hand like he was a human going in for surgery. Maybe in his unconscious state, he could sense her there, watching over him.

  One of the secondary guards took that as a cue to move forward and unzip Den’s jumpsuit to the waist. He exposed Den’s perfectly sculpted chest for all of them to see.

  The guard, standing in front of her, smirked in a way that made her feel like she was the one that was naked.

  He stepped forward, holding a device that looked like a med scanner and a spider had a baby.

  She opened her mouth to tell them where to shove their weird machine, but her mom cut her off.

  “Let them do their work.”

  Ionia pressed her mouth closed. That was her mom’s lay-off-or-else tone, so she shut up but kept her eyes on the tech for any murderous moves.

  This was a massive injustice. If she had any power, it would not be happening. She clenched her teeth to keep from shouting.

  The guard tech ignored her, even though she gave him a look designed to melt his face off, and attached the thing to Den’s shoulder. He pushed a button on the side panel.

  Black muck drained from the machine and into Den. She could almost feel it under her own skin, like some vile poison, and she shivered. The black substance pooled like an evil oil slick near his shoulder then absorbed into his skin. Suddenly, a letter D etched into his chest in black, and a smaller twin appeared on his left hand.

  “What is the D for?” Did it stand for his name? Or to advertise that he was a droid?

  “It means droid. To warn people.”

  “Warn them of what exactly?”

  Her mother heaved a massive sigh. “Ionia. We should be going. I will explain it to you as you are activating him. We just want to leave as quickly as possible.” Her mom gave her a look that Ionia read as let’s get out of here.

  Ionia had about a half million questions, but she held them. Getting Den away from these stormtroopers was goal number one.

  Removing the device, the officer scurried toward the door. “Give Councilmember Hebbar our apologies for any inconvenience.”

  When they were alone in the room, Ionia spun to face her mother. “How could you let them do that?”

  “They didn’t damage your droid. And what choice did I have? They are the authorities.”

  “In Mac Town, you carried a gun and said we had to protect ourselves.” Ionia jutted out her chin. Her mom had raised her to be fierce, but now she wanted her to back down?

  “That was Mac Town. There was a magistrate and a handful of constables. Things are different here. This is civilization.”

  “Pfft. What’s so civilized about the way they talked about Den?” Ionia asked. “They wanted to take off his skin!”

  “Enough. Your aunt and cousins are waiting for us. Collect the droid, and let’s go.”

  Ionia leaned into the box and pressed his forearm. His panel opened. Not a full activation, but she still braced herself as she tapped lightly on the reactivation switch.

  He took in a breath. His chest rose, and his eyes opened gently. “Good morning.”

  Lord, sometimes she forgot he had such a sexy, deep voice that sent chills through her whole body. But she tried to keep her reaction to a minimum as her mom was still next to her.

  “Morning. How’d you sleep?”

  “I do not sleep. I was in standby mode.” His head jerked around as if he had heard something behind him. A line drew on his forehead. “I feel that something has invaded my chassis. Are we under attack?” He reached up and touched his shoulder where they had injected him.

  “They…the officers… require you to be…” How did she explain that she had let them mar him? Injure him. “They needed to mark you like a droid. It’s required by law in this territory.”

  Den’s expression looked blank which was odd. His face was normally very expressive, almost always happy and engaged. This blankness made her stomach wiggle.

  “You agreed to this?” He looked down at his marked hand and reached across to rub his thumb across the black stain.

  “I had to. But it isn’t permanent,” Ionia said. “You’ll have it only for the length of time we’re here. Right, Mom?”

  “That is correct.” Her mother had retreated a few steps and seemed more interested in the smooth architecture of the room than in Den. “Hurry up.”

  The entire situation had Ionia’s nerves prickling, and her chest still felt tight. She wanted to smooth over this hiccup and get the hell away from the overzealous enforcement. But his feelings came first. Den looked down at his chest then his hand and quickly zipped up his jumpsuit, as if embarrassed.

  His face remained the same impassive mask, and Ionia wanted to do anything to make him all right again.

  “Are you okay? Did the trip injure you at all?”

  “The trip was uneventful. All systems back online. My sensors say we have arrived at our destination 28.6139° N, 77.2090° E. I sense you are ready to exit this place.”

  “We’re in ND. And yes, I’m dying to see everything.” And she was. The airport goons had sidetracked her, but a new place with new people was like a Joyjuice for her soul, but Den still didn’t seem normal. “But are you sure you’re okay?”

  “As I said, all systems are functioning.” Then he smiled. His thick lips pulled back into a gentle smile, a stellar thing, just for her. It melted the tight fist in her chest. “Let us explore this new venue.” He placed a hand on hers.

  She hadn’t realized she’d been clutching the edge of his capsule with a death grip. His touch instantly soothed her, and she smiled back.

  Her mom stood silently watching the interchange, biting her lip, arms crossed. She really acted like she was trying to be more understanding of Ionia and Den. Whether she did understand was a question up for much interna
l debate.

  Ionia offered her hand to help him out, but he waved her off and leaped from the container. Her mom jumped, and her eyes darted around, searching for a weapon either to take Den out or to join him in a fight.

  “No immediate danger is evident, Dr. Sonberg. I was merely exiting my capsule.”

  Her mom’s eyes narrowed to burn-a-hole-in-steel slits. “Thank you for the update, Droid.”

  “Den.” Ionia instantly corrected by habit.

  “You’re welcome,” Den said in his most pleasant tone. If he had heard the jibe, he was ignoring it.

  A wave of hot anger flushed Ionia’s face. She loathed the way her mom treated Den. She would have to sit her down and talk to her.

  Again.

  Trying to keep the peace with that woman was like trying to make friends with a feral leopard. Ionia sighed and looked up at Den. He had a pleasant expression on his face, his focus, as always, completely on her. She let go of the breath caught in her chest.

  “Let’s go meet my family,” Ionia said.

  ***

  Den observed the airport walls. They strolled too close to a display. Four-dimensional images of a line of brightly clad dancers swirled around them, smiling and gyrating to an ethnic beat.

  It was designed to stimulate the human brain, to illicit interest and direct their attention. The effect was not the same to a droid’s visual receptors. He could take the image and dissect it into all its components, so the overall impression to his processor equated to undulating lights. He preferred more organic illumination like the lights from the Aurora. Those were unpredictable and entertaining. He guided Ionia after her mother, who marched at a good six kmph clip toward the airport exit.

  He attempted to focus all his processor power on Ionia and her happiness. His confusion upon awakening had caused her distress, and her distress was always his.

  He had pulled on his polite protocols to engage with her while his true emotional chip was wracked with strong impulses.

  The electronic tether airport security had burned into his neuroprocessor had damaged his circuitry. They had not been truthful. The external marking may be removed at a later date, but the invasion, the burned pathway through his innards, could only be repaired by a highly skilled technician.

  A group of prepubescent children dashed by and noted the marking on his hand. They gathered in a huddle and pointed toward him as he and Ionia passed. “Fleshie,” they whispered so that no one without enhanced hearing could have detected.

  Other emotions crowded into his processor. He blocked out the impulse to stop and question Ionia as to why she had allowed security to download such a hindrance into his system. How was he supposed to stay with Ionia and protect her if he was the object of scrutiny?

  But the line of consideration needed to be put on hiatus. Ionia and her needs came first. Perhaps once they were at their destination, he would discuss the issue further. But her vitals hovered too high to bring up any emotional topic. Her heart rate was elevated, and she had just pulled her breathing back to a normal level.

  They were in a foreign location with a multitude of potential threats. His needs would have to wait.

  Ionia linked her arm with his and beamed up at him. Her relaxed smile was enough to take the edge from his negative impulses. They approached the exit. A wall of heat from the outside made sweat appear on his brow until he adjusted his internal temperature.

  She had no such function, and the temperature was in the uncomfortable range. “Would you like me to carry your coat?” he asked.

  “No, she wouldn’t.” Dr. Sonberg whirled on her heel and faced them. “It is necessary that Ionia keep it on until we reach safety. Got that, droid?”

  His dislike of the maternal unit increased by .02 percent. She rarely spoke directly to him. Rarely said anything that made Ionia happy and rarely cared about anything other than whatever outcome she desired. In a droid, this single-mindedness would be lauded.

  In a human, less so.

  Her attitude left him with a controlled animosity that he held in constant check.

  “Yes, Dr. Sonberg.” He modulated his voice, low and even. None of his emotional reaction reflected in his tone.

  From her tight expression, he gauged that Ionia had a similarly repressed reaction, but the intensity only lasted until they hit the external curb.

  If the airport had been overbearingly bright, loud, and colorful, this area contained twice the input. Ionia’s face lifted as she spun to take in all of the sights. “Den. Den! This is beyond sanguine, it’s amazing. I thought Mac Town was the heat, but this… I mean, I’ve seen it on vidclips, but it just doesn’t compare.”

  His circuits hummed positively. When she was happy, all was right inside his processor. The negative emotion from his marking drained as Ionia’s eyes darted from highly saturated colorful flags to a half dozen street vendors.

  She quivered slightly, and he smiled a smile that was not part of any protocol. There were few weapons nearby, and the street was patrolled. He didn’t have to worry for her immediate safety. He could just let his positive emotions hum as he enjoyed her response to this bright new world.

  “There’s your aunt,” the maternal unit said to Ionia, ignoring Den as usual.

  A woman stood alone next to a twelve-meter-high column. Tall, similar facial structure to Ionia, but very different coloring. Upon noting their appearance, she responded with a smile.

  The column she stood beneath was designed to resemble a sculpted tree topped with off-shooting branches. A swarm of flying discs flew in precise circles. He ascertained them to be scanners, which were designed to help with petty crimes and crowd control. They circled the top of the pole similar to a group of moths drawn to a flame. But they were ready to descend in a nanosecond.

  A stark difference from the location from which they had come. Mac Town had possessed a few visual scanners and a handful of enforcement officers. Here, the streets were under constant surveillance. This decreased his level of Ionia-based defense protocols but increased his prep for self-preservation. He had already been marked by this government before he was even aware. He didn’t desire a similar event.

  “Where are the kids?” Dr. Sonberg asked her sister.

  “I sent the children home with your bags.” Her eyes traveled over Den from his boot clad feet to his curly human hair.

  “This is the source of trouble? My, my, he’s a piece of art. May I?” Sera asked her sister as if he were a possession or pet and stepped toward him, hand outstretched.

  “Den has free will,” Ionia said. “You should ask him.”

  His emotional center surged. She did care for him.

  “You freed your droid? Very...progressive.” Sera kept her voice neutral, but Den could sense her physical excitement. “I’m sorry. Den is it? What processor do you use? I’ve not seen a fleshie of your caliber in years.”

  “I have a Montenegro 5.5,” Den replied.

  “Amazing. Those are difficult to come by. I’d love to see one.” Her words were properly respectful, but her tone suggested she would rather dissect Den than talk to him.

  “Mine is currently in use. I suggest the Cortex for more information.”

  “Sera.” The maternal unit’s face contracted enough to furrow her brow and thin her lips. “You can talk to the droid all you want when we arrive, but Ionia and I are weary from our trip.”

  “I’m sorry,” Sera said. “You took so long gathering your friend here, that the transport left. We have to hail a new one.” She pressed her thumbnail, and they waited in silence for one of the lumbering buses.

  Den set his sensors outward to maximum and kept his marked hand out of common view, it was the first time he felt more concerned with his own safety than Ionia’s. He rerouted his unsettling emotions and focused on Ionia’s welfare, which was his proper role.

  Chapter Two

  The crowd pressed in on Ionia. She leaned against Den for support. The adrenaline of the arrival and confront
ation drained, and all that remained was hunger and exhaustion and heat.

  The square beckoned to her, luring her into a walk-about.

  Bored and hungry was a recipe for wrongdoing.

  The music of lyres, cymbals, and drums streamed from every direction. Red and orange tapestries and flags fluttered as the smell of curry invaded her nose. The scene was unlike anything she had ever witnessed.

  Her mom and aunt were in deep conversation a few meters away, and Den remained at her side. But she was hungry.

  More. She was starving and bound to find whoever was selling that magical smell.

  “Mom. I’m going to check out the food. Be right back.” She said it quietly enough so that her mom probably couldn’t hear her and thereby couldn’t say no.

  The curry smell emanated from the nearby food stalls, and she moved toward them. Den tightened the hold on her arm.

  “I just want to go check out the food booth over there. Come on.”

  Den’s face did the scrunchy thing it did when he was not pleased, and his lips pressed together. Those programmers had even gotten non-verbal communication perfect, which gave her a guilty twinge, but he nodded.

  “I will accompany you.”

  She’d reconnect with the others later. Her mom didn’t need to worry here. With their coms on the Continent, it was nearly impossible to lose someone, even when you wanted them lost.

  The food smelled like the real deal. Home-blend, hardcore curry. She followed her nose. The mash of people made her dizzy but also made her heart skip. She loved this. The city made tiny Mac Town look like a medieval village, and she wanted to touch, taste, and feel—everything. A break opened in the crowd, and she lunged forward out of Den’s grasp.

  An object barreled toward her, so fast it was hard to make out. A warning blast sounded like a foghorn. Her body froze as she saw the machine flying toward her.

  Den’s arm surrounded her, shielded her, and lifted her from the ground. He held her in a cocoon of his own body as the transport hit. She squeezed her eyes shut.

  They fell as one, slammed forward with the impact. He twisted at the last moment so he would take the brunt of the impact. She opened her eyes.