Vagabond Souls: The Ionia Chronicles: Book 2

by Pamela Stewart

  He turned the corner to his left, searching for the source.

  A droid with a flesh covered face lay on the ground, clothes ripped, it would seem, by the gang of young humans circling him. The large black D on his chest was the only covering on his mechanized body.

  “You’re unholy. An abomination.” One of the young men kicked and spit at the prone droid.

  “Please. I am trying to serve my master.” The droid’s emotional circuit must have been active because Den could note the panic and fear that raised his voice modulator an octave.

  Den’s own emotion started to rise. He looked at the creature lying on the ground, like the droids he met back at Chirag’s compound. They had done nothing but try to free themselves, and they had been cut down. Now, this entity was in danger of being disassembled in the attempt to follow his master’s instructions.

  Since separating from Ionia, Den had started to have inklings of sensations. Flashes about correct behavior and incorrect behavior. Beyond his assigned protocols.

  His own rules of being.

  His previous code had always held that Ionia’s safety and happiness were his first, foremost, and only concern. With his connection to Ionia so thin and stretched, knowing she had Zee, her mother, and aunt to watch out for her safety while this droid had no one made him pause.

  The group of young men and one woman, four in all, closed in, all wielding pieces of discarded plastimetal. A larger male with a long dark braid down his back led the attack and brought down his pipe on the droid’s leg joint. The human-like face contorted. He searched frantically until his eyes fell on Den. An SOS blared through the Cortex again.

  Something deep changed within Den, like a wire that had been pulled to its breaking point snapped. A new synapse connected in his processor. He would locate Ionia after he assisted this droid.

  Do not fear. Den sent the wave and pulled on his defensive protocols. Things he had only used in the ring and for Ionia’s protection.

  As the droid looked at him, the group of young people’s eyes turned, their faces confused. “Don’t get involved. Move on, videshee.”

  They didn’t know he was a droid. The emblazoned D was hidden by the clothing and gloves he had been given in the android refuge. Perhaps he could end this peacefully. “You should release this droid. He is merely attempting to serve his master.”

  “Why do you care? Are you a droid lover?”

  “I care for most sentient creatures,” Den said. “It is my understanding that blameless entities should not be punished.”

  The confused faces morphed into anger. Brows dropped, shoulders turned almost imperceptibly toward him, testosterone levels rose. Mob mentality took hold of their psyches.

  “I warn you, I am fully trained in multiple martial arts and weaponry. I will not allow you to injure me or this droid.”

  A second male, in his early twenties, thin with larger than normal eyes and nose, stared at Den. “You’re one of them. A fleshie.” The group’s full attention was on Den now. The droid on the ground scrambled up, and Den sent a signal for him to leave.

  The droid protested silently, but Den waved him off. He was a servo droid with no military sub-protocol. He would be useless in a fight. The droid limped away, and the attackers allowed him to flee.

  First order of business complete. Second order of business was to end this interaction without injury.

  The leader lifted his pipe again and moved toward Den.

  The second order of business may not be possible. Den took a defensive stance and braced for impact.

  He almost desired to be in a direct confrontation with these men. According to his records, some lower level intelligence humans only responded to corporal punishment, and he was more than capable of doling it out. But the old protocols still ran in his systems. He should not injure a human unless his primary companion was in imminent danger. But he had no more companion, so his direction was muddied.

  The young man swiped at Den’s head. He easily dodged the blow.

  Without expending a mini joule of energy, Den grasped the assailant’s arm and yanked the man off balance, so he fell face-first onto the ground. Almost as one, the other three moved forward, crude weapons in hand. He did the calculations, assessing their percent muscle and estimated coordination. His chances of surviving this encounter were seventy-eight percent. He crouched to create a lower target and to gain more leverage from his legs.

  A boy, slightly younger than the rest, with extremely large eyes in proportion to his face, raised a hand. “Wait, guys. Wait. This is him. This is Den. The fleshie that won those matches.”

  The young men glanced between themselves, the recognition playing across their faces. “Hey, Ram. It is him.” The harsh lines and hooded gazes vanished. “I won a ton of credits betting on you.”

  Den understood that humans had strange biochemical reactions, but to see these teens go from vicious to fawning was disconcerting. Even the one who had lunged at him rose and clapped him on the shoulder. “That move you used against Gigantor. He was undefeated by droids twice your size. When is your next match?”

  “I have not been assigned a new match at this time,” Den said.

  “I’d put my money on you. You just seemed to want it so much. And the look on your face when he came at you? Total warrior rage.”

  Human previously had fallen into one of three categories. Ionia, Ionia friendly, or hostile.

  But now things were different. Interacting with rabid fans was a new experience. He had enjoyed the accolades after his first match, but this was different. He was accepted when others were still in misery. Zee and Chirag had been correct. His surface humanity connected to them on a deep psychological level.

  “If you wish to watch me in future matches, do not harm or cause disrepair to those like me.”

  “Aw, that’s different. He’s only partly alive. You—you look normal.”

  Den crossed his arms across his chest. “I am like them. But I am also like you. You don’t want to see my total warrior rage.” It was mostly a bluff. He wouldn’t damage a human unless it was a last resort to defend Ionia or himself.

  Their faces changed from admiration to low-grade anger and some fear. “Should call an enforcement officer.”

  “I have already done so,” he lied as if he truly was a human. “There are laws against damaging someone’s property.”

  They eyed each other with tight faces, but Den could tell their hormone levels had dropped, and they were in flight mode. They scurried away, leaving Den alone.

  He left the alley and stood for a moment in the sun. Human, animals, and droids brushed by him. He let the warmth of the day infuse his skin. He had the power to make a change. Power to help others like him. And he enjoyed using it.

  He would need to process this chain of logic at a later time. Zee’s signal had disappeared, and the city teemed with life. There would be no locating Ionia on the avenue now. He determined to follow the shortest route to the Hebbar house and check on Ionia’s safety.

  ***

  Ionia woke up in a white room with Zee at her side. The droid was face down and still, limbs held at awkward angles like she was a ragdoll someone had dropped and forgotten.

  A voice sounded next to her as if she had a coms device implanted in her ear.

  Yes, I have her.

  Deep and masculine with a .25 variance that led her to believe it was partially automated.

  Another voice responded, this one too quiet to hear, more like static.

  I can’t take her in like this. The first voice said. Do you have any idea what your nanobots are doing?

  Ionia stood and followed the sound.

  Zee stirred on the ground. Her eyes popped open. Completely black—no iris, no pupil, just soulless, demon black. She shook her head, and they returned to their normal brown with white irises. She saw Ionia and focused.

  Zee must have said something because her mouth moved, but Ionia couldn’t hear her. The sounds Ionia hear
d came from the next room or further.

  Exactly 5.2 meters to the northwest.

  Her tentative control of the info overload evaporated, and lines of code raced in her mind. Fear built upon fear, making a tower in her chest. The tower was a fragile thing. If it fell, it could shatter her. Her mouth was dry as she searched for some escape from Zee, from the room, from her whacked-out brain.

  Zee continued moving her mouth with nothing coming out. All Ionia wanted was to hear what was being said outside of the white room. To find a way out.

  She followed the external noise to the north. She placed her hands against the soft white padding and could immediately sense what was beneath. Hidden by the padding was a door. She pressed her ear against it.

  Fine. I will call in my favor, but I can’t do anymore. If they find her and want to tag her, I wouldn’t be able to intercede. This time she recognized the voice in her head.

  “We need to get out of here. They said they’re going to tag someone.” Ionia said.

  “Ionia. There isn’t anyone talking. Are you okay?” Zee’s voice was back and sounded concerned.

  “The cyborg, Chirag. I think. He was supposed to take me in, and now he can’t. Why can I hear him, and you can’t?” The fear tower teetered as she turned to face Zee.

  As an AI, she should have been able to school her facial expressions, but Zee looked terrified. “Your face. Did they do it? No…”

  She stepped forward and touched Ionia’s face on the side with her eye implant.

  Ionia’s stomach dipped, and her head swam. “What’s wrong with my face?” Did whoever grabbed them hurt her? She reached up and found her skin felt hot and different and slightly wrong. Skin but not skin.

  “I need a mirror.” They should worry about what Chirag was going to do next and be planning an escape. But the strange look on Zee’s face—the hesitation… She had to know.

  “Does it hurt?” Zee’s voice sounded small.

  “No. What is wrong with my face?”

  “Nothing,” Her voice still had a quiver, and her eyes were hooded. “I think there is a door behind this.” She avoided Ionia’s gaze and turned to the wall with the secret door.

  “Zee. Tell me.”

  “Fine. I will show you, but we should hurry. My scanner cannot penetrate these walls. And Chirag will not be kind.”

  Ionia felt the touch in her mind like she had before and her replacement eye’s vision fluttered like a bad connection during a sunspot storm back at the base. Clear and then garbled.

  A cool trickle ran in her head, like a fingernail drawing a line across her scalp. Ionia saw her own face. Or some variation on her face. Silver glimmered across her skin and around her eye as if she had gone to a CONUS face artist.

  She focused, and the image magnified. Her skin looked like it was made of shiny metal. The eye itself appeared human, but the area around it looked metallic. Her good eye also had shiny bits around the iris. Again, she enhanced the image. She didn’t know how she was doing it, and she didn’t care. Circuitry gleamed back from her organic eye.

  She wasn’t ugly, but it wasn’t her. It was the face of a foreigner. “My face. My good eye. It’s all...different.”

  The fear tower shattered. Her throat began to close. Freezing air all around. Cam’s dead face. She was back in the ice cave and powerless again. She choked, and her head began to spin. There was no running away. Her face, her eyes—everything was changed forever. She sank to her knees.

  Zee grabbed her arms and thrust her to her feet. “Ionia. Your eyes will be fine. We need to get out of here.”

  “I’m in a nightmare. I want to wake up.”

  Zee didn’t feel real. The floor didn’t feel real. Nothing felt real.

  A stream of heat poured from Ionia’s brain down her neck and into her arm, like she’d been dosed with frostbite meds. Her fingers dug into the wall, but she didn’t feel it. The material peeled back like wrapping paper. She grasped the edge of the door and yanked, and the metal bowed under Ionia’s hand like it was made of cardboard.

  The wall jerked and tried to slide open, but it couldn’t because of the warped metal. Had she done that? How was it even possible? Maybe the wall was made out of a crummy alloy copy, and that’s why it was faulty.

  “Help me with the door. It’s jammed,” Ionia said.

  “It’s bent. You…bent it,” Zee said from behind her, keeping her distance.

  “Never mind. Help me open it.”

  “I couldn’t even bend it,” Zee said quietly but still joined Ionia in pulling.

  Wooshing, the door slid aside, and they stepped into a darkened hall.

  Ionia sensed him before she saw him. Chirag stood in the center, blocking all light like a semi-human wall.

  “I’ll hold him. You run.” Zee leaped onto Chirag, wrapping her legs around his neck and using her body weight to throw him off balance.

  Ionia didn’t want to leave Zee at Chirag’s mercy, but if she didn’t escape and get help, neither of them would survive. Her legs felt electrified like she’d been given a shot of adrenaline, but magnified by a thousand.

  She ran out the opening, blindly forward. She just wanted to get away. Get back into the real light and warmth. Find her mom.

  Her crazy blueprint vision flashed online and showed her a general schematic. It should have freaked her out, but she just accepted it. Weird and freaky though it may be, the new talent was useful.

  That inner knowing thing kicked in as her focus shifted, and she sensed a person ahead behind the closed door that led to the exterior halls. Ways to avoid the potential threat streamed through her head. One included taking a stairway and going to the roof.

  No good unless she could fly.

  The other involved smashing through an outside window. Again no. She could ascertain they were on a high floor of the building, hence too much possible damage.

  So she would face whoever was on the other side of the door.

  All these thoughts smashed into her mind in the seconds it had taken her to run the length of the building. It was as if the whole world had been on pause so she could figure out what to do next. Just as she reached the door, it swung open.

  She planned on just barreling through whoever it was and getting free of this freak show.

  The image of her mom, but taller, stopped her. The same eyes and jawline made her stumble over her own feet, right into her aunt’s arms.

  “Oh Aunt Sera, it’s been horrible. They were keeping me locked in a room, and all these weird things are happening to me that I can’t control. We need to run. He’s right behind me.”

  “Shhhh, calm down. It will be okay. I’m here now.”

  A hand smoothed Ionia’s back. A glimmer flashed in her mind that whispered danger. A nudge and poke at the nape of her neck. Hot acid spread into her veins, and her limbs went limp.

  “I’m so sorry. But this is the way it has to be.”

  Before Ionia could dissect what exactly the words and action meant, cold fingers pulled her into a dark pit of nothing.

  ***

  Den noted that there was little symmetry in this neighborhood, but the residences were better kept and had more luxuries than the shack-cluttered area from which he had returned.

  He stood outside of the Hebbar’s abode. No signature of Ionia and it had been hours since she left the compound. The time was now close to 1800 hours, and the sun was low on the horizon behind a line of non-uniform buildings.

  She had to be within, or he had to eliminate the possibility of her presence and begin a search in earnest. His emotional circuit sent uncomfortable sprays of impulses that he suppressed. Nothing was sure yet. Until he was certain there was a problem, he had no reason to indulge in true worry.

  He sent out a wave over the Cortex and still made no connection with Ionia’s signature. But the place was heavily shielded so it would take a visual inspection to be sure.

  If Ionia were here, she would be angered by his presence. He balanced the r
isk of Ionia’s wrath with the potential she could be in danger. The passage of time was the detriment.

  He pressed the door hand print announcer. “Den. Droid. Owned by Anabel Sonberg. Access granted.”

  The faux-wood door slid open, and he entered into the foyer. A sudden impact crashed against his cranium with a 250 kg force—a blunt force he had not sensed coming. He whirled on his assailant and immediately scanned for additional weapons.

  The perpetrator was Anabel Sonberg. Ionia’s mother. 1.5 meters tall, dark shoulder length hair pulled away from her face in a bun, her physical stats were elevated, blood pressure and heart rate above norms. Her breathing patterning was ragged, and her eyes narrowed in a confused gaze.

  “How did you get in here?” Disdain coated her words, elongating the you sound. He’d interfaced with this human enough to know her opinion of him, and it wasn’t positive.

  “I came in search of Ionia, to ascertain her safety. Is she here?” He asked about Ionia to keep a proper conversation going, but he had known the nanosecond he entered that she was nowhere in the house.

  “The enforcement should have delivered her by now. So you’re saying her companion droid doesn’t know where she is?” Veiled criticism of his abilities. Ionia’s mother was ever a challenge to deal with, especially concerning her daughter. Most of the time she would not even speak directly to him but only through Ionia. She treated him like a device or a piece of furniture. For her to speak to him must mean she was desperate for information.

  “She has broken our companion relationship. Ionia left my company to find her way home, and I was concerned that she had not yet arrived.”

  “If you aren’t bonded any longer, why do you care?” She raised both her eyebrows for emphasis.

  “Just because she gave me my freedom doesn’t mean I no longer care for her, Dr. Sonberg.” He added her title to show respect. From previous experience, he knew that would sate her ego enough to communicate with him with less hostility.

  She snorted in response, then broke the intense eye contact—a small win in the battle maternal. “Fine. If you want to assist me in locating her, that would be useful. My sister has disappeared just when I need her most. Typical.” She spoke aloud, but Den knew the last was probably an internal thought.