Vagabond Souls: The Ionia Chronicles: Book 2

by Pamela Stewart

  He would normally wait for direction when dealing with a human, but his processes were becoming more and more independent. He made a choice to take the lead. “Have you had any recent contact with Ionia?

  “I haven’t.” The admission appeared difficult for her. She said the words succinctly. “I believe my sister was the last to see her, but she’s been gone for hours. Everyone’s gone, in fact. And she’s not answering my wave coms.” Dr. Sonberg paced the common room, and her shoulders rose and fell in quick jerks. Nervous. Worried. Angry. He would tread lightly.

  A quick scan of the Cortex confirmed his concern about Ionia.

  “Dr. Hebbar has not been reported as detained at the enforcement station. No word concerning Ionia.”

  She snorted. “As if the enforcement could find their own anuses without a drone guiding them.”

  He would have snorted himself had he been human. Her assessment was quite accurate. If Ionia was captured, the enforcement could create future complications. He was unsure of how much Dr. Sonberg understood about her daughter’s new enhancement. Her previous insistence on Ionia wearing her coat lead him to believe the doctor understood some of the risks.

  “The enforcement may have already detained her or be in transit to do so. Or she could be elsewhere.” He didn’t have solid next steps. Emotion pushed again, this time impeding his decision making and risk calculator. Repeated recriminations. He should never have trusted Zee to return Ionia home. Warrior droid or no. He should have traced them closer. He should not have stopped to assist the other droid. He should have—

  Dr. Sonberg made for the door, grabbing her bag, and looked back, expecting him to follow.

  “Is the best action to return to the enforcement?” Den asked. “Shouldn’t we explore other options?”

  She whirled to face him. A jack upward in her heart rate indicated annoyance. “If I sat and explored every option, my daughter could already be hurt or lost. This is no time for over-examining things. Now is the time for action. Don’t question me, droid. We are going to the station.”

  He could think of five other options. He could make a case that prior planning prevented poor performance. But if he had learned anything from Ionia, it was that sometimes human instincts were beyond logic, and Dr. Sonberg was a mother. In the end, it wasn’t a bad action, just not thoroughly researched.

  She didn’t wait for him to finish his line of thinking before rushing out the door. Instantly, he was at her side and pulling his coat close to hide his droid-ness from the patrol drones. They walked back into the humid, human press and started north to the station.

  ***

  “Where is my daughter, Sergeant?” Dr. Sonberg asked.

  “For the hundredth time, we do not have an exact location,” the officer behind the desk said.

  “I do not accept that as an answer.”

  Den gave Dr. Sonberg credit. She had droid-like persistence when she was pursuing a goal.

  “When we have more information, we will let you know. Our drones are searching—”

  “If I don’t get some sort of confirmation of my daughter’s safety, not only will your supervisor hear of it, but the media—worldwide. I don’t imagine you need any more bad vid clips floating out there.”

  The desk sergeant ran his hands through his hair, and his heart rate and blood pressure increased, but his expression remained blank. Den’s defensive protocols came online.

  A stressed human was a dangerous human.

  His voice remained even as he stood from his desk and locked visuals with Dr. Sonberg.

  “I have exhausted all the avenues I have to assist you at this time. If you don’t stand down, I will charge you with disturbing the peace.” His voice lowered, and he added, “I have daughters too, and I’d be crazy if they were missing, but we are doing all we can.”

  “You’re wrong about that.” Her voice was equally quiet but held a dangerous undertone. “I have your badge number, and I’ll be in touch.” She turned on her heel and, using her typical clipped strides, exited the station.

  Den was quick to fall into step next to her, matching her frantic pace. He pulled up a map of the immediate area and could not ascertain a possible destination. He sent out another wave to Zee, but if she were functional, she would have contacted him already. Searching for her signal had been a fruitless endeavor. She had vanished, which only meant she was shielded or destroyed. Either scenario was undesirable.

  “Where do we begin?” he asked. His programming was ill-equipped for a missing person hunt.

  Dr. Sonberg’s head swiveled in his direction, a mask of narrow-eyed annoyance. “If you must know, droid, I don’t know where to go. I’m burning off steam.” She stopped on the cobbled street and faced him. “My sister won’t answer any of my waves. I can’t locate Ionia, regardless of the pressure I place on the authorities. I sense they’re keeping things from me. And now? Now, I have a droid questioning me.”

  “May I make a suggestion?”

  Her eyebrows rose, and she placed her hands on her hips, head tilted as the endless press of humans passed on each side.

  “You don’t believe the enforcement is sharing all their intel with you. I agree. I have known them to relay false information. I suggest we go to Ionia’s last known location and seek information there.”

  “I thought you and Ionia had parted ways?”

  She assumed Den had not seen her since their original separation, and he desired to allow her to maintain that belief, but finding Ionia quickly was the priority. “I kept abreast of her location to ascertain her safety.”

  This answer seemed to appease her, but her countenance remained dour, and he picked up on tiny body language cues that she was displeased.

  “Lead the way,” she said.

  He guided them through the streets and quickly came to a major intersection, close to where he had assisted the droid. Nothing appeared amiss. The traffic flowed—humans, transports, small-treaded delivery droids. The picture of a typical street. No evidence of trouble. No evidence of Ionia.

  Dr. Sonberg scouted the streets up and down and kept looking long after she had found nothing. His processor whirled and searched scenarios and DLed thousands of case files from missing person reports to abductions. He synthesized a hypothesis.

  “We need more information. I lost contact with Ionia at 1425 hours. We need to be able to recreate what occurred at this location.”

  Dr. Sonberg shook her head. “But the vidclips from the drone cams are for enforcement use only.”

  “True,” Den said. “But the individual drones keep all footage for twenty-four hours. I observed your sister using some kind of disruptor on them. Do you have access to that technology?”

  Her eyes widened slightly. Then she snorted. “You are observant. I don’t have a hand scanner like hers, but I know the signal signature. She gave it to me in case of an emergency. In case Ionia was in trouble.” She trailed off, and her shoulder dipped for only .5 seconds before she recovered. She was very emotionally resilient compared to others Den had encountered. One of her positive traits.

  “I can replicate it.” He pulled up a sleeve and dug slightly into the flesh until a small control panel emerged. The pain was minimal, but Ionia’s mother winced when the flesh peeled back.

  “I had almost forgotten you’re a machine under all that.”

  He didn’t have to ask her to plug in the series of numbers, letters, symbols and icons. She snatched his arm with authority. When she finished, she closed the panel and covered the abrasion with his sleeve. A small amount of blood marred his gray suit, but not enough to draw unwanted attention.

  As far as passersby could tell, they huddled together to decide where to acquire dinner or to minister to a small wound. Nothing like trying to override an enforcement drone’s security system.

  He took aim and sent the signal, using a focused beam, to one of the drones. One malfunctioning drone would not be noticed. Multiple drones collapsing simultaneously woul
d be questioned and perhaps set off alarms. They did not need the attention if they were to glean information.

  With a high whine, the drone dropped from its orbit and plunged toward the ground. Den intercepted it. He held it close and motioned for Dr. Sonberg to walk with him to a nearby alcove that was hidden from the general thoroughfare.

  She followed him in a flawlessly casual stride until they were hidden.

  “Connect with its internal memory, but watch for security traps,” she ordered.

  He could have responded that he did not need to be told this information, but instead, he bypassed the machine’s basic protocols and reviewed the vid feed it had captured of the area at 20X speed. He registered a glimpse of something that human perception would not have identified. A glitch. Images had been removed, but not completely. One frame remained.

  A broad back carrying a coated lump. He IDed them immediately.

  “The capture has been altered, but I did find a snippet. The former police officer we encountered at the station, Chirag, has taken Ionia.” The implication of this turn of events burned through his fiber optics. Guilt and anger twisted into an impulse too strong to suppress, and his hands balled without his direct intention.

  Ionia had left with Zee. He should have factored in that Zee was a revolutionary when he allowed her to leave. Zee was wanted and targeted, not only by enforcement but by the game- master droids. He should have insisted on accompanying them. He should have never been distracted. But why had he detained Ionia? Merely because she was in the company of Zee?

  “Why would he have any interest in Ionia?” Dr. Sonberg asked.

  “Unimportant. Locating her quickly is the priority,” Den said.

  “We can’t report it to the authorities. We obtained the information illegally. And if the capture has been altered, we can’t be sure who altered it.” She cast a glance up and down the street. “Can you find out where this Chirag lives? We can start there.”

  Den dug into the information stream. “No current address available. We could begin a systematic search of the city.”

  “No.” She seemed pensive and leaned against the faux stones in the building behind her, exhaling a deep breath.

  Chirag wouldn’t return to the fortress now that it had been breached, but from everything Den understood, the cyborg still had tenuous ties to the enforcement.

  “We could question his known associates.”

  “And you know his associates and where to find them?” Doctor Sonberg asked, eyes narrowing.

  He had to take care with how he answered this, or she would connect Den with Chirag. Loss of Dr. Sonberg’s trust would impede the search for Ionia. They were better off searching together. Chirag had a place here, and transporting Ionia out of the city limits would be difficult. A moment from when he had been detained replayed in his memory. “I believe some of the officers gather at the establishment known as the Drunken Monkey after their workday is complete.”

  “How could you possibly know where they gather after work?”

  “I gleaned this information by listening while I was in their custody.”

  That caused the small doctor to take another look at him. “Ionia’s right. You are different than most droids. To the Drunken Monkey.”

  Chapter Fourteen

  The tavern was not hygienic, but it certainly was colorful and loud. Even with Den’s advanced sensors that filtered out extraneous sounds, he had a difficult time separating the different conversations from the overbearingly loud music. The odor of various alcohols and the press of bodies created a potpourri of stench. He had been programmed to dislike odors that were foul so that he could avoid things that could possibly be contaminated. And here, everything smelled foul.

  It seemed Dr. Sonberg was having a similar reaction to the environment, from the lines in her brow to the frown that seemed etched upon her face. When the crowd did not move as she approached, she pushed her way to the bar. “Out of my way, lummox.”

  “Dr. Sonberg,” Den said, “I do not mean to reprimand you, but with your current demeanor, we will draw negative attention to ourselves.”

  “Don’t give me instructions, droid. I may hate to be here, but I know how to act in a bar. You just follow along and don’t say anything.”

  Den followed her direction, but he would engage if he felt he could help Ionia better than she. He adjusted his hooded jacket and lowered his internal temperature again to accommodate the added heat. His attire was not appropriate for this time of year or this environment, but it could not be helped.

  Dr. Sonberg approached a table of uniformed off-duty officers. Den gauged their blood alcohol to be within legal limits but only by a small margin. Four males lounged in various poses of relaxation. One leaned back on the back legs of a faux wooden chair and slammed his seat down at the doctor’s approach.

  As a unit, their chatter stopped when Dr. Sonberg arrived. He sensed their caution and increased vitals. One dark-skinned man draped an arm across the seat behind his companion in mock relaxation.

  Den sidled up beside her in case of an altercation. He remained quiet and calm. If they realized he was a droid, he could be instantly incapacitated by their electromagnetic devices.

  “My daughter is missing. And I have reason to believe Chirag Asan has her.” Dr. Sonberg used her thumb implant to access her private files. A twenty by twenty-five centimeter holo of Ionia appeared.

  It was from at least two years previous. Ionia could not have been more than fourteen. Still beautiful in a slightly irregular way. He felt his protective protocols stir, but a new and foreign line of code interfered. Would he find her beautiful if she had not been the one who had activated him?

  Had it been her maternal unit who had activated him, she would have been his human, and he would have been bonded to her. This line of processes made his emotional center uncertain, so he suppressed it. He could not be distracted when in a threatening situation, especially with this local enforcement. Ionia’s life could hang in the balance.

  Two of the officers shook their head that they didn’t know her, but the dark-skinned man nodded. He gave Dr. Sonberg a large smile. “He’s a good guy. If he has her, he’ll bring her home.”

  “At least he used to be,” muttered the one who had let his chair slam down.

  “What does that mean?” Ionia’s mother straightened, and her features grew tight and closed. The din around the tavern lowered twenty-five decibels as if to hear what the officer’s response would be.

  “I don’t know.” His eyes scanned his companions then fixed on his drink for a moment before rising to meet the doctor’s glare. “He used to be a cop. He’s changed. And not just because of his replacement parts. He’s always talking about subs’ rights.”

  “Maybe you’ve had too much to drink. You shouldn’t be talking about Chirag.” The large man’s baritone voice was a force at the table, and Den sensed the others’ increased adrenaline.

  “Look. I don’t care about you or this Chirag or whatever he’s done. I just want to find my daughter in good health. Are any of you parents? Don’t you understand how I feel?”

  It was a clever ploy. To use empathy as a tool to find Ionia. It was one of the emotions Den had a hard time understanding, but he comprehended its use now.

  Again, most of the humans avoided eye contact, but one man with a slight build, the one who had called Chirag into question, pressed his lips together. “This bar is for cops, and it tends to get rough. It would be best if you looked for your daughter elsewhere.”

  Doctor Sonberg’s vitals didn’t vary. Steady and strong. She was not afraid of these men.

  The number of highly trained officers gave Den reservations about their odds of surviving an altercation. She was not his bonded human, but she was Ionia’s mother, and that held meaning to him.

  Even with his strength and speed, if they activated their suppressors, he would be incapacitated. He had to be subtle, and she should be as well. He placed a hand on her arm. Sh
e jerked away. “Hands off, droid.”

  The comment brought the attention of the group to a laser focus, directly on him.

  “Did you say droid? You brought a fleshie in here?”

  Den suppressed the impulse from his emotional center to roll his eyes. This was exactly what he had wanted to avoid. He scanned old vid clips and strategies for avoiding interpersonal conflicts at the speed of 5000 km/minute looking for any information that might help.

  “You had best leave before we take you in for disturbing the peace and confiscate the droid.”

  Two of the men to his left drew up from their slump, sensing the tension but not ready to act. The big man bore a hole into Den with his eyes, as if they had a scanner within. They didn’t, or Den would know, but his scrutiny felt emotionally uncomfortable.

  The large man squashed his plump lips together and pooched them out, pinching them with is fingers. He glanced down at his handheld suppressor, and Den braced himself for the inevitable.

  But the shot did not come.

  The doctor stepped between them. “It’s not illegal if it’s marked,” she said. “I have every right to be here and to bring my property with me.”

  The slight one cut a look between them. Dr. Sonberg seemed frozen for a moment, which was uncharacteristic of the action-based woman.

  At last, she exhaled. “We are travelers, visiting family, and when I lost my daughter… I’m not taking it well. Thank you for your help.” She snatched Den’s arm in a tight grip and moved at a quick clip out of the dim tavern.

  Den kept his sensors on high alert. Even though he was facing the door, he knew exactly how the men at the table were acting. He felt the stir of one of them following.

  “We are being followed. I will defend you if I can,” he said to the doctor and prepared to spring into defense mode. It would prove useless if the officer used a suppression gun, but his defense protocols were all that remained in his arsenal.