He took a very deep breath and pushed his hood back. With the fire behind him, he looked like a celestial being or angel or whatever those with religious faith believed in these days.
Her dad had believed in that stuff, angels, and gods, and look where it had gotten him. But maybe he was up in the clouds doing a Nordic boogie and keeping a watch over her. And that made her shoulders relax. She returned to the circle. “My dad died out here. This is where they found him.”
Miranda was still dancing, and the song changed to something else, still popular, still upbeat.
“What was he doing out in the tundra?” Simon didn’t look at her, didn’t force her to answer, let the question hang in the air.
“Some experiment stuff. I don’t know. It was totally weird if you asked me, and no one ever did. He knew better than to go out alone. He knew to tell someone.” Now she sounded like her mom reprimanding her dead dad.
“Maybe he just needed some time alone,” Simon said.
“See, there. I can tell you are from the city.”
“So are you.” He flashed that sideways I’m-cute-when-I’m-smart smile.
“Yeah, but at SPS you learn fast. You know the rules. You always, always, always, at least tell someone. He was like one of my mom’s damn penguins who lose the trail and wander off, walking to the sun that will never come up.”
“And when it goes up it doesn’t go down.” Simon finished the old saying. “I wish there was something I could say. At least you remember your dad. My mom died when I was eight, and all I can remember is her being sick and tied to the respirators.”
“Like me.” Miranda, who had been listening while pirouetting, spun once more and flopped down before them.
“Not like you. You have more good days than bad. The treatments--”Simon said.
“The treatments help, but I’m still a burden.” She shrugged and pulled her knees to her chest, becoming a tiny ball of tiny girl.
Ionia fell beside her, and her ankles fired angry shots of pain up her leg. She fought to keep the grimace from her face until the patch upped its dose.
“You okay?” Miranda asked.
“Yeah, no worries.”
Simon sat on the other side of Miranda. “Don’t be stupid, Randa. You are not half as bad as mom and getting better.”
“Sunshine Simon--here for my daily dose.” Miranda giggled. Ionia joined in a short giggling fit.
Simon’s lips grew tight, and his forehead scrunched, but he released it quickly, putting back on a good-soldier face. Maybe it was because of his mom or Miranda, but he just took everything so well. Ionia envied his composure.
“I don’t know what I’ll do if she really is gone,” Ionia said. A witch’s mix of grief, anger, and relief bubbled inside her.
“You lean on your friends. I am your friend.” Simon spoke gently like Ionia was a dog that’d been kicked one too many times, and he was trying to coax her out of hiding.
“I’m your friend too. I was her friend first.” Miranda cut in before Simon could go on a tangent.
Simon shook his head, sighed, and shrugged. “Sisters.”
“Brothers.” Miranda quirked her lip and tilted her head.
Ionia laughed at them. “You guys are crazy.” She looked up at Simon. Not the skinny, messy-haired boy who invaded her and Miranda’s sleepovers. Taller shoulders wider, and he even had a bit of scruff now on his jaw.
“Hey, Simon, remember when you tried to make us think weird ice monsters were attacking?” Ionia turned to him, still wrapped up in her memories.
His face flushed. It could have been from the boncan’s flame, but it may have been more. Embarrassed? Maybe.
“Not really,” he said. “Are Cam and the droid done over there? I’m going to see if they need any help.” He leveraged himself up and moved toward the transport.
The engine whirred when he was a few steps away, and he spun on his heel. “See, I’m a miracle worker.”
He added a touch of swagger to his stride and swung his arms out wide. Ionia shook her head. He was such a boy sometimes.
Miranda helped Ionia to stand, and supported her as they walked back to the transport. Once outside the warmed circle, Ionia’s body began quaking again. Miranda wavered slightly, and Ionia leaned some of her weight off her. All this physical activity must be draining to her with her ES. The situation was hard on all of them. But they had the transport, Den, a full med facility when they got to SPS, and it would all be worth it when they found her mom.
“She’s alive,” Ionia said it aloud. Said the words, strong and confident, to no one but herself. To hear them spoken gave her a bit of solid ground.
Miranda’s head bobbed, but her lips rolled in as if holding in secret.
Ionia let the words roll in her mind, on repeat, she’s alive, she’s alive, she’s alive. She has to be alive.
###
Back in their little Noah’s ark, Ionia settled into one of the swivel chairs. She couldn’t stop shaking even with the heated interior. Maybe the power had failed in her outerwear?
An ice giant’s hand grabbed her guts and shook. She wrapped her forearms around her torso and leaned forward, trying to find a still place, trying to calm down.
“Put another patch on her,” Simon said to Miranda.
“We only have one more left, and it says only three in a twenty-four hour period. She already has four.”
Den shoved between Simon and Miranda. “Ionia, your vital signs are unsteady.”
Ionia had to force herself not to flinch at the destruction of his skin and part of his face. It didn’t seem to be hurting him, but the ragged skin and blood looked painful.
“I’m okay, Den. Just settle down.” Her head twisted as if her neck couldn’t hold its weight. The world wavered, and the antsy feeling grew, worked up her spine, and sizzled to her fingers. Had she lost something? Had she forgotten something?
Ionia pulled off her gloves and checked for her thread rainbow bracelet. It was still there. Good. No more losing things. She glanced up. Her mom stood behind Den in a haze of bright light. Transparent. A ghost. Haunting her. You. You wished for it. Your fault. The specter mouthed the words out of a bloody mouth.
But that couldn’t be. Ionia didn’t believe in ghosts.
A rush of heat filled her like an electric sheet of energy, and she pulled at her coat, fought to get it off so she could breathe. There were hands on her. She fought. She wanted. She needed to get the clothes off. Voices. Her vision blurred, faces a splash of black, of white, of nothing. Her body sagged, her vision flickered, and went dark.
###
“Ionia. Ionia.” Den held her, her face lost color, lacking oxygenated blood. He shook her gently.
“What’s wrong with her?” the young female said, her pupils dilated.
“Do something. Don’t you have programming or something to help her?” the Feinstein boy asked.
Den did not appreciate his tone. Or his order. He was already accomplishing the task by searching all his pre-DLed med files. More detailed information eluded his sensors, as the Cortex was still offline.
“Take her clothes off. I will plug into the system,” Den said.
“What is going on back there?” the captain said. “Oh, Jesus. What’s wrong with Ionia?”
“Why do you want to take her clothes off? Are you glitching? Playing sex games?” the Feinstein boy asked. He reached for Ionia and tried to take her from Den’s grasp.
Den’s muscles tensed and prepared for a fight, his hands rolled into fists. He could not adjust his emotion level. At the moment, he wanted to injure the young man.
But he did have control of his will. Attacking the boy was illogical.
“I have internal heaters. The clothes are retaining the external cold. Baby, it’s cold outside.” His damaged processor pulled all the harsh words that sprang to his vocal box and kept the message simple and only somewhat muddled.
“I don’t know about this.” The Feinstein boy crossed his a
rms and pressed his lips close, his eyebrows lowered.
“Do what the android says. If anyone knows the human body it’s a sex bot,” the captain said. Her tone of authority seemed to carry some weight.
He started to reply that he functioned as a companion droid but stopped. Was he still a companion droid now that he was emancipated? The line of thinking, the lack of power source, and the expense of energy made his processes slow, an unpleasant ache in his head.
Miranda helped remove Ionia’s outer clothing. The Feinstein boy turned away, and the captain fired the newly repaired engine. Den withdrew his power cable and hooked up to the outlet in the wall next to Ionia’s chair.
Once Ionia was out of her coat, he sat in one of the chairs. He positioned her in his lap and pulled her close to his chest. Her torso rested against his, he place his hands in her armpits and allowed the heat to flow out from him directed in waves. She moaned and tried to pull back, the shock and hypothermia still creating malfunctions in her responses.
“Is that hurting her?” Miranda Feinstein asked her brother.
“I am not hurting her. This is medicinal.” Den felt it necessary to clarify so there would be no further interruption.
The Feinstein girl hovered near, her weight shifting from foot to foot.
“Sit down. I have enough medical knowledge to administer to Ionia. She needs uninterrupted time in a warm environment. Captain?”
“Yeah?”
“We should be operational. The South Pole Station is closer than Mac Town. I suggest we head in that direction. The path back is fraught with instability. They have medical treatment available at the station, and it is what Ionia needs.”
“Course, course. We need to get her some real help. Buckle in, Feinsteins.”
The children moved quickly to their seats and strapped in. Den buckled Ionia in.
The headlights flickered on, piercing the black path, and the transport jostled forward.
Ionia nuzzled into the crook of his neck. With her this close, with her skin against his, with her breath flowing against him, he could sense everything, down to her cells, every minute detail, every unruly, cold-damaged part of her.
Ionia sighed again, contented and improving. And even with his massive need for repair and energy, he too approached contentment. She was safe. He would do whatever it took to keep her that way. But not just for her, not just because his programming so ordered, and not only because it kept his processors out of an endless loop. He did it because he wanted to. And that, wanting something for himself, was completely unexpected.
###
Warm. Not like a space heater or an electric blanket warm, but the kind of warm that sunk below her skin. Fire-on-a-cool-night warm. Mug-of-coco warm. She moved closer and wanted to join with the heat. Feel it deeper.
An engine purred a rhythm that was soothing. Her throat felt dry, and she heard voices, but could not make out what was being said.
There was a jarring impact that pulled her away from the warm haven. Hands touched her ribcage, held her firm. She was flush against a wall of flesh.
“Are you well, Ionia? We are traveling to the South Pole Station.” The deep voice caressed her ear.
“Den?”
She raised her head and found his face, his damaged but beautiful face, a few centimeters from her. He held her against him.
A rush of a different kind of heat flushed up her legs and electrified her nervous system. His long fingers touched her in a firm but gentle grasp. Having her chest pressed against him, his breath so close she could feel it on her neck, made her wiggly.
“Wha-Why are you holding me?”
“You have had an episode of extreme hypothermia. I was assisting in your healing process while in transit to the South Pole Station.”
“Oh, ok.” Her memory garbled. She noticed Simon and Miranda both staring at her, and Cam sat in the pilot seat, flicking glances in the reflector. Ionia unstrapped the safety belt and scrambled from the intimate position. Simon turned his head quickly as if to hide the fact that he had been watching.
She wrapped her arms around her ribcage, trying to pull her jigsaw brain back together.
“Your vitals are stronger. You still need more hydration and rest.” The line in the center of his forehead deepened.
It was nice that he cared, but she felt a gazillion times better. “I'll rest when I find my mother.”
“Kid, you have to know, the chances, really--I guess you need closure,” Cam said.
Ionia opened her eyes in time to see Cam's head dip and shake slightly like she pitied Ionia.
“I'm not scared,” Ionia said. “There's one thing you guys do not understand. And that is just how bad ass my mom is. She can survive anything. So let's go find her.”
The deep chill ran over her skin. She looked down at herself. Holy Odin’s ghost. “Where are my snow pants and jacket?”
Simon turned away, and Miranda’s eyes spread too wide, in a silent do-not-ask-me gaze.
“Ionia, your clothing is in the rear,” Den said.
She moved as quickly as her limbs would allow. A heavy and feverish sensation washed through her, but she felt better than before, still kinda gross, like when she was recovering from the nupox, but almost human.
She pulled on her warming pants and coat and returned to the cockpit. Den stood beside their seat. “I can’t take your seat.”
“Yes, you can,” Den said. “I have the ability to attach to the hangar wall during an impact, whereas you do not. You also require more rest.”
She couldn’t argue. Didn’t feel like arguing. She almost wanted to return to the previous position. Being held by Den had been more than warming, more than comforting…she couldn’t find the right word. But with Simon, Cam, and Miranda surrounding them it was awkward. She let herself fall into the seat without another word and clicked in.
This seemed to reanimate Miranda. “How are you Ionia?”
“Better. I think.”
“Can’t get better enough.” Miranda shoved a hydration pack at her, straw extended. Ionia smiled, took it, and drank it down. The compartment grew silent, and the whir of the treads against the ice lulled Ionia. She let her eyes close and twisted her cloth bracelet until she fell asleep.
###
The screech of metal on metal jerked Ionia awake. The transport slid. Ionia saw Cam standing on the brake pedal. “Damn, fresh snow iced over the landing. This may get interesting, children. Hold on.” The transport skidded and stopped just a few meters from the back hangar.
They were at SPS. The place she’d tried so hard to escape.
The front visitor door was obscured by blown snowdrifts, so they followed the groove to the back supply hangar. Cam looked outside and pressed her lips together. A blast of snow th-waped the plexshield, and she fell back. Her arm shielded her face.
“Just some snow,” Ionia said. “Why so jumpy, Cam?”
“Someone attacked the station, and someone attacked you. I’d be a fool not be jumpy. The only reason I came was to ease your mind.” She patted the gun at her side. “And because I am armed.”
Ionia shivered. She knew guns were useful, but hated them anyway. A pit opened in her chest. A dark, sinking feeling wrapped around her like a tar pit, slowly pulling her down. Her stomach swirled.
Simon and Miranda both unhooked, and Cam shot them a hooded look. “Too many people to watch out for. Ionia and the droid will go. The rest of us will stay here and watch my ride.”
“Why do I have to stay?” Miranda’s bottom lip jutted out, and she crossed her arms.
Simon and Cam glanced at each other, then at Miranda. “You are a small girl without a gun. Stay here, luv.” Cam stroked Miranda’s arm.
Miranda flung her small hands in the air and twisted away.
“I'm going, too.” Simon muscled up to the door and raised his chin.
“Your father would kill me if I let anything happen to you. To either of you,” Cam said.
“What are y
ou going to do, shoot me? I paid good money for a transport, not for a nursemaid.” Simon’s voice took on a commanding, demeaning air. It was the first time he’d truly reminded Ionia of his father in anything other than bone structure.
Cam looked out the windshield. “Fine. I've done my job. I am sticking with my ship.”
“I want to go, too. Please, what if Ionia finds something--bad. Plus we have the droid.” Miranda's eyes seemed to grow and cover her entire face.
A tentacle of fear wrapped around Ionia’s heart.
What if she found something bad? But she could not--would not think like that. Mom was hiding somewhere in there, waiting, alive.
“I don’t really care who is going and who is staying, but I am going to look for my mom.” Ionia slammed the button next to the front door, and the steps appeared. Her skin was still raw from exposure, and the slap of fresh wind bit into her flesh like tiny shards of glass.
Den, toting Cam's side arm, unplugged and followed. He seemed almost normal except for the damage to his shoulder and face. Simon and Miranda scrambled behind.
They approached the mouth of the hangar. The layout would be confusing for anyone who didn't live here or visit often. Over the years, the new bases had been built on top of, or near the old, so it looked like an abandoned, haunted town unless you knew where to look. Lots of hiding places. Mom knew them all. And if there was one thing Ionia knew about her parental, she had always been clever.
Ionia led to the closest entrance, the delivery door. The landing strip leading to the door was always the same two sets of even tracks. One created from Cam’s plane and the other from the Mac Town transport that would make emergency deliveries.
New snow rarely fell at SPS. Usually, the wind whipped around what had already accumulated, like a desert--a cold, frozen desert.
The wind may blow, but the two deep treads remained the same, except today. The snow around the entrance looked weird.
A dozen deep footprints with specialized grooves told her the intruders had the expensive, heated kind of boots. Simon bumped into her from behind. “Why'd you stop?”
“Look.” Ionia pointed down at the footprints.
“What? Just footprints from the constables.”
Frozen Hearts: The Ionia Chronicles: Book One Page 20