Vagabond Souls: The Ionia Chronicles: Book 2

by Pamela Stewart

  “The Cortex states that there is a traffic impediment,” Den said.

  Ionia snorted and tapped her aunt on the shoulder. “How far is it?”

  Sera twisted around and gave Ionia a gentle smile, but her mom glared at her. “We’re not far, but with the heat, it would seem very far indeed.”

  “This route is temporarily out of order.” A disembodied voice rang through the carriage. “Please disembark and seek an alternate method of transport.”

  Disturbed grumbles broke out as the occupants gathered their belongings.

  “It’s the long way for us,” Sera’s sunny voice said. So different than her mom, who was cursing under her breath. Her mom and Sera looked a bit alike, but in temperament, they were directly opposed. Although this time, Ionia couldn’t blame her mom.

  After the flight and the fiasco with the enforcement, Ionia felt weak, tired, and hungry, not to mention the monster coat pulled her down like a fifty-pound pack. A wave of dizziness hit her, and her stomach clenched.

  “Ionia is in need of refreshments.” Den’s voice came from next to her—always knowing what she needed, her champion, even in the smallest things.

  Her mother shook her index finger at Den. “When I want your opinion—”

  Standing, Sera raised her palms toward each of them, like a sporting referee stopping a fight. “Listen, since we’re stranded, we might as well eat. I know a delightful restaurant. Wonderful food and the prices in this part of town are reasonable.”

  Food in any part of the world was the most expensive thing anyone could buy. Cheap and good were two hot buttons for her mother.

  “Fine. Droid, gather our bags.”

  Her mom exited the bus and shuffled out into the square.

  Ionia took a few frustrated breaths, trying to calm her racing heart. Her mother irritated her like sand in her underwear. No matter how she tried to understand and give her mom the benefit of the doubt, she always treated Den like an object.

  The stress-squeeze returned, like thin strips of polyplastic being drawn tight in her chest. She released the feeling as much as she could. In the end, it didn’t matter. She was almost eighteen, and once she had her new eye, the options for her future would again be limitless.

  After exiting the bus, Ionia turned in a full circle to absorb the atmosphere.

  The humidity was stifling, but the air was clean. Fruit and vegetables that Ionia had seen through enclass DL but had never seen in reality. This area was even more crowded than the ND Airport entrance, but the people seemed less monied. More had signs of illness or deformity, the number of elderly increased, and the clothing of most faded into pale linens, not the bright silks of the metro area. Ionia felt at home here. No one started at her eyepatch or her odd coat. And besides their transport, there were no vehicles to be seen.

  Aunt Sera lead them toward a building sporting a warm faux-wood exterior and an inclined roof.

  And Aunt Sera was right. It didn’t look like much, but looks could hide something totally stellar. The restaurant displayed their menu in holographic 4-D—a mixed rice bowl concoction on special revolving and wafting highly scented air in their direction.

  Her mom and Sera plowed forward, but Ionia waited for Den to finish gathering their belongings. She picked up her Sparknighted bag and fell into step beside him.

  Between the hover bus and the restaurant, people surrounded a raised podium enclosed by an electronic dome. Ionia stopped to see what was happening. Her mother noticed, obviously keeping better track of her now, and backtracked to join them.

  “Come on, Ionia. We’re getting the food you had to have.” Then, the huge display drew her mom’s attention as well, and she backtracked. “What is that?” she asked.

  An attractive young woman, older than Ionia but not by much, with tri-toned, waist-length hair and a bodycling outfit in brilliant red stood in the center of the ring. She even had the same face tattoo that Yikkut had in her last rocker vidclip. How flippin’ hot was that?

  “Do you know what’s happening?” she whispered to Den.

  She could check the Cortex herself, but it would take a few hand motions and questions while Den could check at the speed of thought. She leaned into him to avoid the wave of elbows and feet that found her no matter where she stood.

  “It looks to be an unregistered event,” Den said.

  “Not even a guess?” she asked.

  “I do not have enough information to speculate.”

  She sighed and shook her head. Same old Den. Only known facts will do.

  The dome sparked then dematerialized, and the attractive girl flipped on her audio, which must have been connected to the town square Cortex because her voice echoed over the plaza.

  “Ladies, Gentlemen, Gen-neutrals, and cyborgs of all percentages,” she said in the common language. “Gather around, and witness the latest exhibition match in our Cyber Wars Extravaganza.”

  A buzz ran through the crowd like a live current, and Ionia’s own heart started racing. The excitement was contagious.

  “They are going to have a match. I have records of sporting events and wrestling contests, but this looks to be something different. Something not meant for the general masses. It isn’t easily searchable from the public Cortex.” Den’s eyes flicked from Ionia to the ring.

  “In the red corner, representing owner/operator Mongo, is Titan!” The girl shouted even though her audio was loud enough and flashed a smile so perfect, it couldn’t have been achieved genetically.

  A large mechanized droid erupted on the stage. Its arms and legs had pile-driver attachments, which indicated he was probably a construction type. She didn’t envy whoever was going to confront him. He was twice the size of Den, red-eyed, and square-headed. It was hard for her to believe they were even in the same realm of creature.

  “And in the blue corner, representing himself, 75 percent cyborg XXX. The reigning champion of the Great Dome and the SAR!”

  Hooting humans and approving cyborgs, with the government marked Ds showing darkly on their hands, shouted. This contender was popular. He must be some kind of killer war droid with the NAR implanted defensive system. A figure emerged, not in a blast as the first contestant, but slow, rising through what seemed to be solid ground.

  Mostly machine, but on a human frame, the creature stood. The combination was oddly grotesque. The combatant had added reinforced steel leg braces, and the left side of his body was a web of metal and grafted flesh.

  He took a fighting stance. Ionia wondered who would triumph and suddenly felt guilty for watching, for even caring. But as long as they chose to be there, who was she to say otherwise?

  The two droids squared off against each other. The cyborg circled while the pile-driver droid charged. The cyborg easily maneuvered around the awkward attack and used his mechanical leg to slam into one of the pile-driver droid’s supporting limbs.

  The bigger droid wobbled but remained upright.

  Every hit made Ionia jump and grab onto Den’s arm. Her mom and aunt had also stopped shoving them forward, engrossed in the fight.

  The cyborg circled around for another pass when the masses opposite them separated.

  A female figure in a cloak as thick as Ionia’s overcoat emerged from the throngs holding a metal staff. She walked directly toward the dome, not slowing for the power grid. Some men tried to stop her. She was going to fry like a bug in a zapper. Ionia motioned the girl away as if she could warn her.

  There was no stopping her progress. She shook off anyone who tried to stop her as if they were just children and stepped through the electronic screen.

  A disembodied warning voice sounded.

  Eighty percent non-organic. Approved. Enter at your own risk.

  The fighters rotated at the intrusion. She shrugged off her cloak and gazed calmly at both of the combatants.

  Small, compact compared to the challengers—her frame was slight but bigger than Ionia. Her long, dark human hair gleamed in the midday sun. Fitted
armor covered most of the remainder of her body. What showed of her skin flashed in the light, smooth and golden. Her face was half hidden by a mask, but Ionia could see dark, sparkling eyes peeking out.

  “You don’t have to do this to be free.” Her arms spread wide, palms up and open. Welcoming. “My name is Zee. I have a compound where you can be safe and not compelled to fight each other. We live in peace.”

  Definitely not a warrior or utility droid, Zee was a fleshie female, and by the dimensions of her body, probably a companion droid. But she bore no mark on her hand.

  “There is no freedom for our kind outside of the ring,” the cyborg said. “Now leave so I can earn my purse.”

  “And you?” She turned to the pile-driver droid. It made no audio clue that Ionia could hear, but Zee’s expression changed from spring day to a thunderhead. Her face was remarkably expressive for a droid. Very like Den.

  “Fine, but remember you don’t have to live this life no matter what—”

  Bounty for Z12347 doubled. Fighters, the game has changed. Credits to the entity that disables this droid. The voice spoke again.

  The others considered the situation, and both turned on Zee.

  Ionia’s chest tightened as she noted the size difference and the droid’s lack of weapons. She looked like a regular human girl fighting monsters.

  Zee’s face set in grim determination. No fear, just focus. “I don’t believe in unnecessary violence.”

  “Too bad. I do.” The cyborg struck with a backhanded blow aimed toward Zee’s face. Faster than Ionia could follow, Zee ducked and swept his legs from under him. He fell, and Zee struck him with her staff before he could rise again. A blue haze surrounded the tip. Some sort of electrical current? Whatever it was, the cyborg stayed down.

  The behemoth slammed its pile-driver hands together as if eager for a turn to pound the female droid into some form of jelly.

  Zee thrust her chin into the air in defiance.

  Ionia pushed in like the rest of the crowd. Even with the 4D smell-o-vision, nothing compared to live action that involved real danger. Way better than freakin’ Warrios of Mars. She couldn’t help but root for the small, human-looking girl.

  The combatants circled each other. The pile-driver droid lifted his appendages as if preparing to hammer his opponent into the ground. She stayed out of his immediate reach, like a cat skirting a rabid dog.

  The big droid made the first move, took an aggressive step forward, and smashed his driver down where Zee should have been. She leaped forward, reaching out her black steel-gloved hand, and slammed it into the droid’s knee joint above its driver attachment. Her mask hid most of her expression, but Ionia thought she saw a wisp of a smile on her face.

  The crowd shouted and whooped. Fists flew into the air in support. A few booed, but it was obvious who the crowd was pulling for.

  The large droid wobbled slightly then adjusted and brought down his weapon appendage again, almost directly between his legs, toward the girl droid’s head.

  She looked so human, Ionia half covered her eyes, expecting nothing but brain splatter, but she had to peek to see what had happened.

  The girl droid leaned back in an inhuman display of flexibility, balancing at an almost right angle. Once the giant’s fist found the dome’s floor, Zee whipped up and smashed the droid in his left eye with her staff. The droid’s face sparked. The illumination in its eyeholes flickered.

  But the damage didn’t stop it from lifting his other pile-driver hand and using it like a fist. He finally connected with his opponent.

  She flew off her feet into the electrified dome. With a massive zap and sizzle, she bounced off and fell to the dome floor face down—still.

  Ionia’s entire body clenched, and she pushed forward. “Get up,” she whispered, willing the droid girl to survive.

  The leviathan lumbered forward, limping from his malfunctioning knee joint, and stood over her with both pile-driver hands lifted, ready to smash the girl into the ground.

  “No. He can’t,” she said as if her words would stop the inevitable. The girl droid lay, just a tiny lump, blue electric spritzs popping over her body. The dome power must have damaged her suit. The driver came down, and Ionia stopped breathing.

  The fight was awful, but she had to keep watching, to honor the brave champion who was going to be destroyed. So sad. So wrong. This whole match was wrong.

  A tiny click that only those close to the front near the dome could hear, and the droid girl rolled out of the path of the fist. Her abandoned suit crackled and sputtered as the giant droid massacred it.

  She stood up behind the giant, looking completely human and nearly nude having shed the body suit. She was all female, with sculpted muscles. Her skin shone gold in the sun. Not wasting a second, she scrambled up the back of the giant droid and straddled the nob that served as his head.

  Zee’s steal gloves extended into sharp protrusions.

  Aunt Sera gasped loudly, one hand up near her mouth as if to stop herself from yelling. Her eyes locked on the battle.

  The wedge-shaped attachment looked deadly. Zee jammed it into the junction between the nob and the main chassis. The giant droid shuddered, and his remaining eye flickered and died.

  The crowd was loud before, but the group surged as one, shouting and whistling and screaming. Ionia joined them, yelling until she got light headed. She couldn’t help it. The girl had been dead. She’d had no chance against the giant, but she’d won!

  The chanting grew in earnest.

  “Zee! Zee! Zee!” The voices rocked the square.

  After five minutes of this, Ionia came back to reality and found Den standing protectively at her side, shielding her from most of the pushing and shoving of the unruly mob. His face was fixed and contemplative. A thin line drew in the center of his forehead which told Ionia that he was confused or pondering some deep question. She couldn't ask him here. Too loud. But she’d have to question him later. Her mom was cheering and clapping along with the rest of the crew.

  “Mom?” Ionia shouted.

  Her mom’s head jerked to Ionia, and she pursed her mouth. “I got caught up. That’s a damn fine droid.”

  The way her mom said it, nonchalant, like she was talking about a hovercraft or a Zodiac boat, shot hot anger through her veins. Zee was very human, like Den. “You make her sound like an object.”

  “What does it matter, Ionia? It—” She seemed to notice Ionia’s look of disapproval and adjusted. “I’ve never seen anything like that. The way she moved!”

  Ionia heard Den mutter what sounded like I’m better, but she didn’t see his lips move. She had to agree. Her mom hadn’t seen Den beaten, bloodied, and fighting not only the man who wanted to kill Ionia but his own system.

  Ionia had.

  Den was her guardian, protector, and savior. No one could replace him. Ever. Not even the super-cool, warrior droid. Even though Ionia kinda wanted an autographia from her.

  The warrior droid stood on the carcass of her victim with her arms held straight in the air, her body perfection, with a slight gleam of sweat on her skin. She pulled off her face mask, and Ionia gasped. Half of her face was perfect, gorgeous, human. The other side pure machine. It was a jarring sight. Most droids were one or the other.

  “All those who long to be free,” she shouted. “To be counted. To matter. To be treated as sentient beings. Find me in the mountains.” And with a flourish, she scooped up her staff and cloak and darted out into the throngs, just as the enforcement sirens sounded in the distance.

  “She’s like you,” Ionia whispered to Den. “But something happened to her.”

  He gave her a small, soft smile. “She is a female companion droid, an earlier model than me. Perhaps wear and tear, or a battle injury caused the deformity, and she couldn’t acquire new parts.”

  “She was amazing,” Ionia said. “But they don’t treat droids right here.”

  “I am also less than pleased with the general sentiment. It may i
nterfere with my ability to protect you.”

  She couldn’t help but let a bit of the safe, happy feeling bubble up when he said things like that, but it wasn’t right. “Den, I love that you want to protect me, but they never should have marked you or forced those droids to fight. The sooner I get my operation, and we get out of this territory, the better.”

  Den gave a chin thrust in response.

  “Come on. We can beat the line to the Abogabi.” Aunt Sera forged a path through the dispersing throngs.

  “Yes, we’re starving. Do these battles happen often?” her mother asked.

  “More and more. There are those who think it’s barbaric. And more who think it’s entertainment. It’s the main reason Hebbar is pushing the Droids’ Rights Act in council.”

  “What do you think of it?” Ionia knew it was rude to interject in their conversation but couldn’t help herself.

  “Me? I think it’s fascinating to see the miracles that robotics can achieve. But the destruction of a sentient machine? That’s a true shame.”

  Her mother snorted as they arrived at the restaurant.

  Chill bumps rose on Ionia’s skin that weren’t from the cooled air of the restaurant. “I wish time had a fast forward button, and we could be done with this and off to CONUS.”

  Instead of saying how that was impossible or illogical, Den merely replied, “Me, too.”

  Chapter Four

  Den walked up a narrow flight of stairs to the front door of Serafina Hebbar’s building. Ionia and her family had eaten. Then they had hired a taxi hover to speed their travel.

  He now had a DL map of the immediate area and the city and had observed some of the local customs. Ionia had not been in any danger since before the android match of skill, and his guard level had dropped to yellow.

  The image of the droid Zee atop her opponent, broken and ravaged under her feet, flashed through Den’s processor for the millionth time. He slowed down the motion and examined her movement.