Vagabond Souls: The Ionia Chronicles: Book 2

by Pamela Stewart

  Doc Hagrid’s face remained a mask of disappointment, and he shot Ionia a sad-eyed glance before exiting.

  Aunt Sera sucked in air loudly and stepped up. “It’s the nanobots. They’re self-directed after installation, and I’ve not found a way to reprogram them. So we’re left with one option if you want to see properly and have depth perception.”

  Sera pressed and twisted her lips as if she didn’t want the words to come out but had no choice. “You will have to use a prosthetic, and it can’t have any flesh.”

  “No,” her mom said in her customary clipped tone that didn’t brook any arguments.

  But today… Today it did. This was Ionia’s eye. And her health. And damn it, she needed to have some input.

  “I’m not against mechanical replacements in principle,” Ionia said, accepting the thunderhead look from her mother. “But let me ask you this first. Why can’t you just take the nanobots out? Then I can get a normal eye.” Especially here, where everyone had such a strange prejudice against anything augmented.

  “You’d die if you ran across anyone with nupox,” her mom said. “You don’t have a natural immunity. They’re still providing you protection.”

  “Will I have to be tagged?” Ionia had a sick swirl in her stomach. She hated this. Hated everything about it. Hated her choices being taken away. She wanted to be mad, but it was difficult to be mad at the entire world.

  “Probably not.” Another extended pause. Sera looked back at Ionia’s mom as if to gain approval, and her mother nodded. “But you can’t tell anyone it’s for medical purposes. Everyone will think you did it for augmentation.”

  “Like the wall of criminals? Why can’t I tell anyone?” She swung her legs over the side.

  “People would talk. And with my position, someone would find out. I’d be imprisoned for human experimentation.”

  “But it’s not fair!” Ionia said.

  “I know. I didn’t make the rules. And not everyone will judge you,” Aunt Sera said.

  “But I don’t have a choice. I’ll be a sub. Either I cover my eye and can’t see, or I’m singled out.” She felt wound up like she wanted to knock the pictures off the walls or grab her aunt by her tangerine top and shake her.

  Her silent mother stepped to her side. Who knew her mom could remain so quiet? “Ionia.” She reached out and put a hand on her forearm. “I’m sorry.”

  That was the worst. She could be half dead on the tundra, and her mother would never say she was sorry for anything. To have her mother’s pity? This was a reason to lose hope.

  “Maybe in a year or two we could find a workaround. Or perhaps surpass your immune response enough to have the bots accept flesh without triggering the nupox,” her mom said.

  “Ana, don’t give her false hope. These are not facts.”

  “I’ve been working on a few things in my lab,” Aunt Sera said in soft coos. “Things that may hel—”

  “No. You’ve done enough,” her mom said. The words weren’t inherently bad, but the delivery shut Sera up. Her mom swiveled to face her sister. Sera was a head taller, but when her mom put on the resting bitch face, few people could survive her Medusa glare. Sera pressed her lips together and left.

  “Am I ever going to be normal again?” Ionia asked.

  Her mother was again silent. A bad sign.

  Ionia stood. “I’m going to get dressed now.”

  Her mom left to wait outside and maybe have words with her sister. Good. Let them get it out of their systems. Ionia would be glad to miss another reenactment of My Dysfunctional Family.

  She slid on her tunic, skirt, and giant coat. She eyed her patch for a full minute before putting it on as well. The heat was already bad, like being in an incubator with heating lights. Or worse, like being in some strange human zoo where they lighted the specimens from all sides.

  Soon enough she would feel like she was in a real zoo, or else she would be half-blind.

  Either choice seemed wrong. Maybe Den would have some insights when he finally returned. He may even be at the house right now. That fact alone was the only thing that motivated her to join her family in the waiting room.

  ***

  Awareness crept back in bits. He lay on soft material. The lighting was at 75 lux, and the area was a cool but comfortable at 21 degrees Celsius. He bolted upright, his defenses shooting to red threat level as the details of his capture replayed in his memory chip.

  He scanned the room with his sights on high alert.

  “We meet again, my friend. I am happy you came to seek us out.”

  He hadn’t sensed the presence of the one who spoke, and he had met only one entity who had that capability.

  “Chirag.” He whirled to face his assailant, arms in a defensive posture, knees bent, ready for whatever new attack might come.

  “Please relax,” Chirag said. “Come and sit with me. Have a drink.”

  The cyborg sat at a knee-level table on a pile of intricately patterned pillows. His mechanical legs crossed as in a yoga pose. He calmly sat sipping some uncategorized liquid from a tiny cup.

  Den did a quick scan of the room and the exterior and found no other immediate threat. The flesh on his back sent uncomfortable signals to his pain receptors from his fall, but he sensed he had no major damage.

  He reached out to do a spot check on Ionia, but his Cortex access was limited here. He didn’t like that. Not being able to check on Ionia’s health made his emotion circuit flash yellow alert warnings, wound up his joints, and sent jolts of stimulus to his central wire matrix. “Am I a captive here?”

  “Of course not. You were climbing on the outside of our complex, so we had to take precautions.”

  “I was invited,” Den said. This interaction was not logical. Den didn’t enjoy subtext and subtlety. He wanted his facts direct and to the point. “The poster implied this was a place where I might find help, but it appears not. I would like to leave.” He didn’t know where he was going to go exactly, but at least he could check on Ionia via the Cortex.

  “You have it wrong. You came to the right place. We simply needed to make sure you were ready.”

  “Ready? To be blasted by protons?”

  The congenial smile slid from his face. “That you were willing to risk everything to be acknowledged.”

  “I am.” Den remained standing by the door but facing the cyberman. With his next steps unsure, he needed to gather more information “Why are you here? You are a cyborg, not an android. You have no need of freedom or acceptance. And who is the we you keep referring to?”

  “Soon. We will discuss that soon. I noted from my research on the Cortex that your owner is Dr. Sonberg?”

  “I have no owner.” More inane talk. He missed Ionia and her sideways smile and the way she always seemed to bring light into any room she was occupying.

  “As long as you’re marked, as long as they think of you as nothing more than a machine, you are not free.”

  This line of logic may have been correct, but he desired to impress Ionia with his heroics, to prove his affection like the knights of old. The discussion was not moving him toward his ultimate goal of reconciliation with her. “Either allow me to join your games or allow me to leave.”

  “Forgive me. We must be careful with droids that are blood bonded. You are fairly unique in ND. A flesh covered companion with military skills.”

  He didn’t know the correct response to this situation, so he redirected the conversation back to his original query. “Why are you here?”

  “You are very droid like in your single-minded persistence,” Chirag said.

  “I am a droid. And I would like my answer or an avenue to leave.” He disliked talking to most humans other than Ionia, and this cyborg was most definitely human.

  The man moved from his cross-legged position and approached Den. “I’ll show you why I’m passionate about your true freedom.” He looked at the ornate rug on the wooden flooring, and taking a deep breath, he looked up. “You canno
t scan me because I have blocks in place. No one can. Not even the city officials. They feel too guilty to really press me. And only a precious few know that my body rejected all of the implants.” Chirag wore a floor-length, red cape coat that covered him from shoulder to floor; much like the one Ionia had worn since she’d been in ND. He rubbed his hands as if to warm them and swept open the covering.

  Much of what Den had guessed at in the police station proved correct. This cyborg had almost been completely replaced. And not just replaced but upgraded.

  His legs and lower torso were still subtly shaped like a man but better in every way. His double reinforced tendons, muscled hydraulics, and massive thigh and calf reinforced steel tysupports all appeared to be advanced—so advanced Den had never scanned or DLed info hinting at their complexity. His body was that of a perfected human mold. Better. Human 2.0. “You’re chassis has been massively upgraded.”

  The cyborg gave a small smile and snorted. “Upgraded? You could call it that. But if the station knew how much I’d lost, how close I am to not being human, they would no longer accept me. I need to make all of us—androids, cyborgs, less than 50 percenters—acceptable.”

  Den began to understand the reasoning behind the man’s support. All except one part. “Why the games?”

  “People love a story. We put up our people. Show the drama. Tell their story, and the public buys in, so we gain compassion. Then we gain the support of the cabinet.”

  Den reviewed his human psychology and deemed it a potentially worthwhile plan. But that didn’t really matter. In the end, showing Ionia how he felt was the goal, and the arena was the path.

  “Will you sit now? Drink with me, and we can discuss your future here with us.”

  “Yes.” He sat on one of the pillows across from the human seeming man and accepted a cup of tea that he neither needed nor wanted. Den could tell Chirag didn’t need it either as he no longer had a digestive tract, but some social conventions were solidly in place, and Den followed protocols.

  “My friend. What do you fight for? What’s your story?”

  “I fight for Ionia. Always for Ionia.” And he told the cyborg their story.

  ***

  Ionia stood on her balcony staring up and down the street. Occasionally, she’d let her gaze flicker to a light display or possibly a swarm of patrol droids.

  Instead of dread, she kind of hoped the droids would swoop down to street level. That could signal Den’s return. But each time one dipped, she was disappointed. No news, no knock at the door, no coms message, no Den. Where the hell was he?

  She felt like kicking her own ass. Why had she sent him away? It had seemed like the only decision in the moment. The only decision that would be just, but now it appeared like she’d let her emotions lead her into screwing up the best relationship of her life.

  The air outside was still humid but cooler. Pins and needles stabbed at her feet from standing for so long. She shuffled them off, leaning against the doorframe.

  Her eye patch itched mercilessly, but she kept it on. She didn’t even want to delve into how she felt about her mom and her aunt. After the last failed doctor procedure, they had taken the transport back in silence. Then her mother had left with a few more harsh whispers to her sister.

  Probably sharing some horrible life-changing secret. If she never saw or spoke to her mom again, it would be too soon.

  She was shell shocked and waiting. When Den returned, they would make a plan on what to do next.

  “Hey, loser. Standing on the balcony like a medieval princess isn’t going to bring him any faster.”

  “Don’t you ever knock?” She didn’t have to look to know the voice and the attitude.

  “It’s my room,” Ravi replied.

  “But currently in use. Leave.”

  “Come on, Ionia. Mom wants you to come to dinner.”

  “I’m not hungry.”

  “You haven’t eaten all day,” Ravi said.

  “Why do you care?” She didn’t want to talk to him or anyone.

  “I’m sorry things didn’t go better this morning.” His brow fell as he looked at her, and his mouth thinned. “Are you okay?”

  How much did he know about his mother’s clandestine nanobots? How much did he know about her? A new blaze of anger shot through her. Her mom hadn’t had the decency to tell her anything. Not who to tell or what to say or how to avoid the question. She’d just lied and then ditched her. She decided to assume he knew nothing and crossed her arms across her chest. “I’m fine. I’m great. Now go!”

  Again, he reacted as if she’d stung him. But she didn’t care. She shooed him to the door. “I don’t want to eat. I want to be left alone.”

  Aunt Sera appeared at the top of the stairs just as she finally got Ravi out. “What is this? Tag-team Hebbars?”

  Her mom would have scolded her for being sassy, or at least shot her a disapproving look, but the edge of Sera’s mouth quirked up, and she tilted her head as if amused. “No masked wrestling matches here. I’ll leave if you want.”

  Ionia didn’t know if she really wanted her to leave. Her presence wasn’t as grating as Ravi’s.

  Taking her silence as an invitation, her aunt stepped into the room. “Would you like some dinner? I saved some for you.”

  “No.”

  “That’s fine.” No strong-arm tactics or intravenous feeding threats like her mom would have tossed out at this point in the conversation. She met Ionia’s gaze directly and without blinking. “Since you don’t want food, I’d like to discuss something with you. Privately.”

  Privately? Her mom and Sera had been glued since their arrival in India. But there was no sign of her mom, and with Ravi downstairs, they were completely alone for the first time.

  “What about my mom?”

  “Your mother is out. This is just between you and me.” Her eyebrows raised, and Ionia swallowed. What did she have to lose?

  “Sure.”

  Sera turned and moved down the stairs quickly. If the sisters shared one trait, it was a burning desire to get where they were going fast.

  In the main living area, Ravi sat on a giant pillow staring at his Cortex 4-D vid clip while inhaling Salties like they were becoming extinct.

  “Ravi,” Sera said.

  He continued watching the clip, enthralled.

  Aunt Sera’s face morphed into an elongated mirror of her mom’s don’t-eff-with-me face, and she stomped once on the wood floor. “Ravi!”

  Ravi jumped, scattering the dehydrated veggie chips over the room.

  “First, clean that up,” Sera said. “Next, watch the first floor. Let me know if anyone approaches within fifty meters. Understood?”

  His slack-jawed face tightened, and he straightened, giving his mom a crisp nod. Ionia almost expected him to salute. “Yes, mother. Defense perimeter on.”

  A holo-grid appeared with a copy of the housing blueprint and hovered in the air. Red dots moved past what Ionia assumed were people passing. But what the crap did a microbiologist need with a security perimeter?

  Aunt Sera’s expression relaxed into an amused smirk. “I’ll explain in a moment. We don’t have much time.” She entered the kitchen and grabbed the cylinder fridge, and tapped on the side in a distinct pattern three times. Had her aunt lost it? Why was she tapping on the fridge as if it would—?

  The fridge slid to the side, revealing a two-meter-deep hole. Inside hung a ladder affixed to the real wall. Cool air flowed out as if her aunt had just opened a tomb.

  “Come on. You first.” Sera swept a hand toward the dark hole.

  “Why not you first?” Ionia’s voice had a quiver that she couldn’t stop. A tiny sprig of fear shot through her spine. The flash of imagining being stuck inside a wall like an Edgar Allen Poe story.

  She sighed heavily and placed one hand on the counter. “I need to close the door behind us. You don’t have to go.”

  “No. It’s fine.” Ionia glanced over at Ravi, who had collapsed back int
o his comfortable position eating the Salties from the floor and furniture.

  Boys were so gross.

  She grabbed the metal ladder. Checking her wonky depth perception wasn’t throwing her off, she put a foot on it then the other, took a steadying breath and descended into the darkness.

  ***

  Den ducked and twisted out of reach of the appendage. It was as if his opponent was moving in slow motion. He brought his staff back around and slammed it down on the top of his squat challenger.

  The droid stood as high as Den’s knee but was equipped with arms of reinforced steel and small, sturdy legs. Den pulled his stick back and tapped the droid in the front where his optical receptors should be. Off balanced, the droid tumbled off his feet onto the ground.

  “Match to Den.” Chirag raised Den’s hand in the air as if this was an accomplishment.

  Making Ionia smile was an accomplishment. This was like beating on small human children. A cheer rose from those who observed, along with sirens combined with bells and automated whistles from those who were not equipped with voice modules.

  “Congratulations. That’s the tenth match, and you haven’t even broken a sweat.”

  “Thank you, but those I’ve been against have not been very challenging.” He pulled out of Chirag’s grasp and reached down to assist the smaller droid in regaining his feet.

  “I understand. We need to watch you spar before we can determine your class and placement. So far you’ve, you've outshone our expectations.”

  This entire situation proved distracting and somewhat entertaining if not challenging, but he had traveled here to make an impression. And that was what he intended to do.

  Chapter Eight

  The tunnel behind Sera’s fridge wasn’t completely black. Almost. But not completely. The moment Sera sealed the door behind them, watery-pale lights glowed, just enough to find the hand and footholds on her decent. Ionia climbed quickly but carefully. It felt like they were going miles into the earth, but it probably was only about fifteen meters. The cool air nipped at her bare feet.

  When she reached the bottom of the stairs, brighter lights popped on all around and pushed back some of the creepy-crawly shivers that had taken residence in her spine.