But what did she want?
Chapter Four
Den knelt at the edge of the bed and dipped the tiny brush into the nail polish. For the precise shade, he connected with the Cortex and discovered #93DB70, yellow with a combination of orange with metallic underlay, but the packaging proclaimed it Gotta Have it Gold. #93DB70 would have been more descriptive.
“Ask me another one.” Ionia looked up from her paper journal.
“Wax on. Wax off.”
“Oh, it’s from a vidclip. Twentieth century.” She wiggled and glanced up and to the left, human body language for remembering. “Give me a hint?”
“The title employs use of Asian discipline of self-defense.”
“Oh! Oh! I know-Karate Kid! Great one, but next time something from this era, eh?”
“I will adjust my parameter.” He placed the brush on her toenail, and her leg moved five millimeters to the left. “Ionia. I can not apply the polish properly until you remain stationary.”
“I’m trying.” She looked down at her journal, and blonde hair fell around her face framing it like a piece of artwork by Renoir she DLed into his memory. “Wait, let me see.”
She lifted her foot and twisted it close to her face. “This color is perfect for the party.”
“Your parental unit has approved of the trip?” She had informed him of the quandary and her strong desire to attend. The situation put his sensors on alert. So many variables, so many potential dangers.
She smoothed her leggings, rubbing the material with her fingers, keeping her eyes averted from Den’s, then dropped her half-painted foot onto the bed. “She’s slowly breaking. I can feel it. I’ve been sending her copies of all my assignments. Thanks to you, Mr. Den, I have many, many completed assignments. Her wall is cracking, crumbing under the weight of my good girl act.”
“You are welcome.” A flow of positive protons warmed him. His purpose was to increase her happiness, and from her facial expressions and sentiments, he was succeeding.
“Ack.” She rolled over on the bed onto her stomach and covered her head with her hands. “I kinda want to upchuck my reheated lunch just thinking of how much butt I have kissed, but now she allows me some leash during the day and even lets me officially DL stuff to you, so you can be productive, of course.” She flipped back over and crawled up to the edge of the bed where he knelt.
“Are you well? There are remedies for your stomach in the infirmary.” He scanned her for potential physical ailments involving nausea.
“Yeah. Fine. Just a figure of speech.” Her eyes met his and held them for longer than three seconds, which indicated that she wanted to attack him or kiss him. Judging from the dilation, it was the latter. But he could never assume with the undulation of the human brain, he had to ask.
“Would you like to practice kissing?”
Her heart rate increased and the corners on the edge of her mouth tilted up a millimeter.
“I’d love that,” she said, and her eyes flicked down to his lips, and he moistened them to add to the enticement. He enjoyed the nights they had played sex protocol games. He excelled at and was wired for satisfying a woman. She particularly enjoyed neck kissing and was quite adept. Her skill level rose incrementally with every session.
She broke the eye contact and pursed her lips. “But we can’t. Our time is up. Rod’s been actually patrolling for the last two weeks. Ever since you kicked his sorry, drunken ass.”
“My scan shows he is indeed monitoring the halls.” Den’s sensors didn’t reach very far, only half a kilometer. They had a difficult time perceiving through metals, which was the substance the station wall consisted of, but his CPU connected to the station’s mainframe and that gave him the sergeant’s location.
“He is currently in the galley.”
“Eating all my damn fruit, most likely. He’ll be by to stalk me after. It’s getting late, and you should get back. And I need some sleep. I’m going to ask mom about the party tomorrow.”
“Of course.” He stood; heaviness weighed his senses. Ionia had not limited his emotional matrix or sensory level, so often human feelings, which he could not place or name, would assail him. He would explore them at a later time.
“See you tomorrow for more DLing and more kissing!” She bounced from the bed and wrapped her arms around his neck. Her lips pressed against the skin of his face, and her breast pressed against his chest. More feelings. A strong urge to squeeze her gently and return her affection seized him, but as always, her wishes came first.
And he had been dismissed.
He left the room, scanning the halls for movement, uploading the position of everyone in the station. Tomorrow, Ionia would inquire as to the Solstice party, June 21, 2154, where she would meet her friend Simon and try out the techniques Den had taught her. A small, unpleasant sensation like a constriction of air in his system disturbed him as he reviewed the information. Dislike, he categorized the feeling.
His vision flashed pink, a low energy warning. He reached his niche and allowed his thought process to wander as he plugged in and switched to standby mode. Ionia and the party swirled in a loop. More negative pulses surged through his system. But why? If the party pleased the mistress--Ionia--shouldn’t it please him as well?
Human emotions were completely and utterly--he couldn’t locate a word that held enough confusion and pain except--human.
###
The lab was painfully bright and burned Ionia’s eyes. All steel and white walls. Long tables with experiments, bubbling, churning, and reeking. Tubes, burners, syringes laid in rows--neat, aligned and orderly. On a stool in the center, like a monarch ministering to her people sat her mother.
The only thing breaking the perfection and quiet was Ionia’s presence.
Ionia’s hands locked, interlaced behind her back, and she planted her feet wide. “The Feinsteins have invited us to their annual party. I think I deserve to go.”
“Unlikely,” her mother said, clipped and harsh, not looking up.
A wash of fire flamed Ionia’s cheeks, and she balled her hands. Weeks of completed work and chores and pleasantries and her only hope of salvation slid from her grasp. “What do you mean, unlikely?” She struggled to keep calm, to keep her voice even.
It wasn’t working.
“You want a decision. If you push for a decision, I say unlikely.” Her mother, her jet-black straight hair loose around her shoulders, still didn’t look over at Ionia.
She should have known. When her mom hit lab rat focus there was no talking to her. But she couldn’t just give up. Her chance to get out, to breathe, was so close. She had to make her mom understand.
“Look, I’m giving you everything you said you wanted. I’m a good student, and I help out at the station.”
Her mom stopped pouring blue liquid from one test tube to the other, then turned goggle-masked eyes toward her daughter. Finally, Ionia had gotten her attention.
“You barely live up to your potential for the enclass work, you half-heartedly do your chores and never do any extra. You see how hard it is for me here, yet you make it harder. Not helping, even working against me. It’s my job to make sure you have an education. That you are a productive citizen of the world. That you can protect and support yourself. Why is that so bad?” She leaned back on her stool and pushed her goggles up to her forehead.
Ionia didn’t want to let the anger take her, but the words possessed her mouth before she could stop. “Protect and support. Protect and support. What’s the point if you’re miserable all the time?”
“Miserable with a full stomach, inside warm walls. The problem with you is that you’ve never seen real hardship. Life isn’t a vidclip or a game. Painting a pretty picture isn’t going to keep food in your stomach, or keep the oilers out, or keep you from a fugee’s laser pistol in your back.”
Not the world-is-so-dangerous argument with a you’ve-got-it-so-easy twist. Not this time. “You think I’ve not known hardship? I’ve been dragged all over the world my
entire life. Never staying long enough to make friends. Always some new animal or flower that could kill me. Always something I’d have to sacrifice.”
“What about us? Do you think we didn’t give up things to make your life easier? Do you think finding work in CONUS is easy?” She stood now, her face tightening, her voice rising in pitch. “Even in the NAR, it’s difficult unless you work for the Republic. We followed the work. That’s why I want you to study. If you drop that silly art hobby, then you can get a practical degree, something in demand. Something that will give you a decent livelihood.”
“But what’s the point of life without art, without beauty, without any scrap of joy? Dad understood that.”
“Well, your father is dead because he didn’t use his common sense. I will do whatever it takes to make sure you don’t end up the same.”
Ionia looked down at the tiled floor. She hated it when her mom brought her dad into an argument and made it seem like he was a fool. It made her remember how he’d hated their fighting. He would say: We’re a team, Ionia. She really loves you. You guys are twin fires pointing in opposite directions. Nothing’s more important than family.
If only her mom believed that.
“But you know how much this means to me.” Her mother’s face screwed up as if she’d tasted a raw lemon. Ionia stopped. Pushed away the urge to beg. She had to be calm, use some strategy. What did her mom care about? Appearance and funding for her research. Ionia changed tactics. “All the higher-ups from CONUS stationed here will be at the party, and you know Simon’s dad pretty much owns Mac Town. Wouldn’t it be a good idea to show?”
“How have you been in contact with Simon to get this invitation?” Damn her wit. Ionia had to think, quick, quick.
“Uh, I needed some assistance on one of my enclass assignments. He happened to be on the school site when I posed the question.” Her breath held in her chest, she tried to keep her face a glacial mask of indifference.
“Hmmm.” Her mom’s eyes narrowed.
Ionia’s mouth dried. Her mom suspected. She would figure it out, and Ionia would be flogged or whatever horrible medieval punishment her mother could imagine. The seconds ticked by. Her heart thumped in her ears. Please, please, don’t figure it out.
“Finish your Biology final. If you do well, we will talk later at dinner. I will let you know then.”
The answer wasn’t a no, and her secret seemed to be safe. Only problem was that she knew nothing about this semester’s Bio. Not even a little. Den had completed all the work. How was she going to get him from grunt duty to do the final? She whirled away on one foot, excitement still pulsing in her veins.
If all else failed, she could hit her mom with her trump card. Today was her birthday. And it didn’t appear her mom remembered. That had always been a dad kinda thing. Her mom would join in, but he instigated the celebrations. When she brought it up, how could her mom deny her?
She trotted off and had the overwhelming desire to tell Den about her almost success. And practice kissing some more. Neck kissing, dragon kissing, so many varieties. Kissing Den had been on her mind a lot lately.
In the old vidclips, she’d watched girls practice kissing on the back of their hands, with pillows, and even with each other. Den shamed the old fashioned techniques. She found herself eager for his 3 a.m. visits. They had successfully avoided Rod and her mom for the last two weeks. She was beginning to think life might be getting better, that existing here for the next year might be tolerable. If she could only get her mom to budge on the party.
The temp dropped as she entered the disused part of the station, the area where her dad used to work. A familiar pang traveled through her like tiny razor blades in her blood.
She could see him standing at the counter, tall, strong, grease on his cheek where he’d touched by mistake, his yellow hair creating an unruly halo around his head, his ready smile when he saw her face. He’d pluck her up and whirl her around so fast she couldn’t walk straight.
She twirled the bracelet on her wrist, violet, orange, red, like a Venezuelan sunset, her heart a leaden fist in her chest. Best not to dwell on things she could do nothing about and try to find Den. Drawn by the clang of metal, she found Den tightening the fitting on one of the tubes that brought gas or water or air or something into the station. He turned and smiled. She could almost believe he was happy to see her.
“Ionia. S’up?”
She had DLed a slang dictionary into his memory, some of it ancient, and she wasn’t sure if she liked it or not, the words just didn’t go with his formal manner. She could monkey with baseline protocol too, but she had grown to like his innocent way of communicating.
“Maybe you should cut the slang, Den.”
“Did I not use it correctly?” His eyebrows folded and his mouth pursed, as if in pain.
“No, it was fine. I like the way you normally speak.”
His tilted his head again like a curious cat, and then raised his eyebrows. “Your mother has assigned me this task. I estimate the time of completion still to be approximately five hours. Then I will need to recharge for at least...”
“Can’t you hurry up and come with me? I need something.” The thought of doing the Bio exam without him made her stomach ache.
“If I do not complete this task there will be a deficit of warm water--” Den stopped talking, stopped his movement, straightened. His gaze traveled to fix on a sight behind Ionia.
Something was behind her. She rotated slowly and bit back a gasp.
Her mom stood in the doorway. “What are you doing here? The droid needs to finish, and you need to be doing your enclass work. With the speed you have been completing assignments, you should finish before supper.”
Her mother never left the lab during an experiment. Prickles of heat ran up her face. How much had she heard? Ionia forced herself to smile. “Just checking to see if all the DLs were working properly. I named him Den. You should call him Den.”
“After that book, your father used to read to you? I will not give a machine a name. Droid, back to work.”
Den’s eyes moved to Ionia, waiting for her to verify the instruction. Ionia waved her hand for Den to get back to work, but her mother caught the exchange.
“Why did he turn to you first? He’s been taking my orders fine.”
Ionia’s chest clenched, and she held her pleasant look only with pure will power.
“It’s because I asked him a question before you came in.”
Her mother crossed her arms against her chest and pressed her lips together. “What?”
By all the demigods in Asgard, her mother was like a bull seal after prey with all the questions. What would she believe?
“I wanted to know if this skirt matched these tights. He has sharper vision and--”
Her mother raised a palm and turned her face away. Jackpot. She knew her mother did not want to hear her go on about clothes, or art, or pretty much anything, bright or beautiful. “Get back to your room, or I’ll reconsider the freedoms I’ve allowed you.”
“Yes, Mother.” She fought hard not to put the edge in her voice at the end, but it still came through.
Her mother didn’t notice and stalked up the hall.
Den, upon her approval, had gone back to the pipe which looked worn and rusty. She whispered to him. “See you later?”
He nodded and smiled, still working with the heavy pipe. It would have taken five human men to lift and hold, but he kept the pipe up with the just the pressure of his knee.
So very strong, but so gentle to the touch.
She left the room. Her heart had tiny weights attached to it, holding it down. So close to getting an approval, this sidetrack with Den was just a bump. She wanted him to come, but maybe she could do the final, and her plan could still work sans droid.
She had no other option, and by dinner, tonight, her trip to Mac Town to see Simon and Miranda, would be guaranteed. She entered her room, slid into her rolly chair, and fired up the screen.
She had common sense and two scientists for parents. How hard could the test be?
###
Biology finals were hard. Not, gotta-think-about-this hard, more if-you-don’t-know-this- you’re-in-an-ice-flow-without-a-paddle hard. Dinner would be in a few hours, and she had had zero positive results. Zero. She slapped her hands together, and the virtual screen went dark. Even with the pretest, practice test, and actually reading the notes, it was too much too process in too short of a time.
Den was her answer, her only answer, but he wasn’t finished repairing the pipes. She would have to borrow him. It wouldn’t take long, and then he could go return to his day labor job.
Sliding the wheeled chair across the room toward the door, she touched one of the metal surfaces. Static electricity flayed out of her onto the metal plate. The extremely dry climate made static a constant nuisance.
The older electronics would even short out if you touched them without discharging. The shocks especially affected the auto doors and the old keyboard. She checked the hall to make sure her mom and Rod were nowhere around.
Den would have sensors and let her know the sergeant’s location. But Den wasn’t with her. A pang shot through her. She didn’t realize how much she’d come to lean on him.
The only way to be free of her iron fist was to run, and to get out she had to be hyper vigilant.
The buzz from the lights and the dull hum of the station generators were the only sounds, no footsteps, no breathing. This was her chance. She crept to the room where Den worked. The temp was cooler than before. Her hands numbed, and her breath plumed. She rubbed her upper arms to keep off the chill.
Ionia went down the cylinder-shaped hall, and into the bowels of the station. Den stood holding a monstrous tool, and even with his superhero strength, he was struggling with the wrench.
He sensed her behind him, and releasing the wrench, met her eyes with a pleasant, sincere, happy-to-see-you smile.
“Could you maybe take a break and come help me with my assignment? It won’t take you long.”
He wiped his grime-covered hands on a cloth, his skin a vibrant shade of crimson.
Frozen Hearts: The Ionia Chronicles: Book One Page 6