Frozen Hearts: The Ionia Chronicles: Book One

by Pamela Stewart

  She blinked hard and looked up at Feinstein. “Let my mother go.”

  “I’d be happy to. I just need the code for this door.” Feinstein slid a hand from her mom’s shoulders down her arm. She shrunk from the caress.

  What the hell was she going to do? Ionia stepped forward. Her gloved fingers tingled with the need to hit Mr. Feinstein. Mush Face gripped Ionia and shoved the gun harder into her back. Even through the layers, she could feel the hard circle of the blaster. With one pull, it would burn a hole in her center and leave her on the floor dead.

  Stop. Thoughts like that would get her killed. There had to be a way out; there was always a way.

  “What’s behind that door anyway that you’re willing to hurt so many people?” Simon asked.

  “Anabel,” Feinstein said and gestured for her to answer.

  Her mother’s face tightened, eyes narrowed to slits.

  “Excuse me,” Feinstein said through gritted teeth. “Dr. Sonberg knows. Tell him.”

  “I’d rather boil your intestines for my dinner.” She said the words as if announcing they were having PB & J.

  “Now, now, no need to be gauche. It’s a power enhancer. I’m willing to pay good credits for it. But the good Doctor here is stubborn.”

  Ionia looked at her mom, hoping for some inkling of a plan, maybe a mouthed instruction or facial communication.

  But her mom looked back at her. Her eyes seemed to tilt down, and a line grew in the center of her forehead. That wasn’t her I’m-going-to-kill-someone look or secret-rebellion expression. That was her sad face, her grief face. The way she’d looked just after Dad had died. Her mom didn’t think there was a way of out this, for either of them.

  “Simon, you need to make a decision,” Feinstein said. “Are you with them or me? I do have some important work to do. And I can’t have you interfering.”

  Simon rolled his hands into balls at his sides, and his mouth became a thin line. “Them.” He bit out the word and looked away.

  A flicker of something flashed across Feinstein’s face, a slight eyebrow dip, a twist of his mouth, but it was Withd by a pleasant mask. He could have been making a toast at his party for all the emotions he showed. “Take my son outside and wait. Bind him if necessary.”

  “What about the girl?”

  “She stays. Dr. Sonberg needs a bit of incentive.”

  “I’m warning you-” her mom said.

  Feinstein jerked his hand toward her mother’s battered face, and she flinched. “Hold on to Dr. Sonberg.” The mush-faced man released Ionia and seized her mom.

  Feinstein seized Ionia’s arm and yanked her to him.

  “My, you are quite pretty. Nothing like your mother. All that blonde hair and sky blue eyes. I can see why my son is taken with you.”

  “Dad, don’t.” Simon sounded panicked, and even though she couldn’t see, she could hear struggling, boots scrapping, dull thuds moving away as the tall minion dragged him away.

  Feinstein leaned in uncomfortably close. She could smell his freshly washed skin and musky cologne. His handsome face was clean-shaven and young looking, so like Simon. But the eyes were different. Simon’s eyes were clear and sincere. Feinstein’s were full of shadows and sin.

  “Perhaps you would like to see some of the hospitality I’ve shown your mother? It’s almost a shame to scar such a pretty face. Maybe I’ll start with--”

  A laser blaster fired and scuttled along Feinstein’s shoulder. He screamed and released Ionia, clutching his wound.

  Ionia whirled and found Den, propped up on one knee and shooting, but he didn't look like Den, more like a victim of cerebral palsy. His hand shook, and his face twitched. She couldn’t understand what was holding him upright.

  “Run.” His voice croaked with an electronic wheeze.

  “Come on, Mom! Den will cover.” The ice cave erupted into confusion. Den fired just above the men’s heads, and ice shards exploded like a fresh snow squall. Ionia grabbed her mom, scooping her in her arms, ushering her up the incline to Den, praying to whatever gods were listening for just a sliver of help.

  Her boots slipped on the ice. She fell forward onto her hands, and her mom tumbled to the side. A hand found her armpit, lifted, pulled her up. She caught him out of the corner of her eye. Simon had shaken off his captor in the confusion and returned to help.

  “Let’s get out of here.” Simon pushed her on and up until they reach the opening where Den maintained an unsteady aim at Feinstein and his men

  She turned to see Feinstein and Mush Face had her mother between them. Her mom fought, throwing her fists and clawing, but they were bigger and stronger. In a second, she was in Feinstein’s hands again.

  Ionia’s chest felt hollowed out and empty. They had failed.

  ###

  Den kept energy flowing to his shooting arm and vision, but he verged on losing all functionality. The pulse wave had knocked out his main motherboard, rebooting should have taken twenty-four hours or more, but he didn't have that. His backup auditory system had told him Ionia was in life-threatening danger. He had to act.

  If he kept this up, even his backup system would fail, then he would lose every memory, every function. He would be merely a hull, a Tin Man frozen like the old vidclip Ionia had downloaded. What was left of his emotional circuit fritzed at him?

  “How? How did?” Feinstein’s voice grew high, and his pulse jumped. Den had surprised him. “He's not an android. He couldn't be. My system overrides every motherboard.”

  “I am my own. Now let Dr. Sonberg go, or I will kill you.”

  “Idiots. You gave the android free will?” Feinstein huddled behind Dr. Sonberg. “If you don't put down your weapon I will start removing body parts.”

  Next to him, arms across her abdomen, Ionia gasped. Her adrenal glands were pumping chemicals that made her shake, and her breath came in short sips.

  She faced Den. “I don't know what to do.”

  The soldiers still had their weapons. One was three meters to his left. The other two, five meters away. He should be able to take them, but the older Feinstein had cover, and Den's aim was compromised. “I can decommission Feinstein's employees, but I can not guarantee your mother's safety.”

  “Dad, please.” Simon Feinstein said to his parent. “This is stupid. What could possibly be worth killing someone over?” Not a poor question. The boy’s logic process appeared to work upon occasion.

  “This has gone on long enough.” Mr. Feinstein pulled a knife from his belt. Dr. Sonberg flinched as he put it against her cheek and pulled a long line down her face, slicing the skin.

  Ionia grew very quiet. Her head flicked from the steel door code pad to the tattered cloth bracelet on her wrist. “Stop! I know the code. Let her go, and I will tell you.”

  Feinstein stopped. A thick rush of blood stained Dr. Sonberg’s face.

  Den’s perceptions were only slightly better than a human’s with the suppression machine functional. Only Ionia was clear to him. Only Ionia was important to him. And she was overwrought. She was about to sacrifice her life for her mother’s safety. A very emotionally driven decision. But what did he expect? She was human.

  Den determined that Ionia would be severely scarred psychologically and not function properly were she to lose another parent, yet in yielding to Feinstein, she was assured to be damaged. His brain sputtered, and a jolt of the last of his backup energy leaked through.

  He needed to save Ionia.

  It was his primary function.

  “Let’s discuss the terms of our surrender,” Den yelled out, then turned to face Ionia, softening his voice projectors to a soothing tone so only she could hear. “You're health and safety would be at level five risk. Level five is the maximum. I can not allow you to exchange places.”

  Her eyes rounded. They were brilliant blue, not like the blue of his own, but something different, something sparkling, iridescent, and alive. Something he would never be. “I will try to save her. Run.”

&
nbsp; “No. I know you are programmed to protect me, but you have free will. And you can use it to respect my decision. Trust me. Remember how I beat you in the poker game? Sometimes the weaker hand can win. I think I know a way to save her and get everyone out alive.”

  Den listed the number of things that could go wrong with her plan in his cyber brain and had to stop at three thousand because time was of the essence. “I can't let you cease to exist. I don't want to.” And there. He'd said it for her to hear. He decided with his free will to protect her with his last impulse of energy.

  Her brows folded slightly, and she put a hand on his uninjured shoulder. “If you do care for me, then you will let me do what I want. Let me have free will as well.”

  That sent his logic centers in an infinity loop. Philosophy meant so very little to him. But she meant energy and beauty and light.

  Life. Everything.

  “I will respect your wishes.”

  She sighed and hauled him into a half hug. He kept his gun fixed on Feinstein, but let her warmth seep into his frozen chest.

  “Thank you. I knew there was more to you than a pretty face.” She smiled that secret special smile that she saved for those who she cared for. Trace amounts of moisture gathered in the corners of her eyes.

  His emotional circuit sparked and sent a cascade of positive ions in his wires, pleasure at having made her happy, perhaps for the last time.

  Ionia faced the cavern again and looked down at Feinstein. “OK, tell your men to relax and let my mom go. I will walk toward you.”

  They started the exchange. Feinstein released the doctor.

  “Don't get creative, android. My men will shoot your master if you harm me.”

  Den had calculated the probability of the truth of that statement in the upper 90 percentile.

  Young Feinstein leaned against the wall, frail and human, alternating between shaking his head to balling his hands into fists.

  Ionia moved as if her legs were magnetized to the ground, slow and with great effort.

  Every refraction in his circuitry, every impulse of energy shot pain to Den’s receptors. Ionia, his centering influence, the only human that made a difference, marched toward a myriad of life threats. His system burned, pushed, nudged his trigger finger to squeeze. If he could count on his aim being true, he would have fired already.

  Promise or no.

  His gears burned, straining to release.

  But he couldn’t guarantee the shot. He wanted to defer to her wishes. And Ionia said he had a choice.

  He did have a choice.

  As much as he wanted to rescue her, he respected her choices. She had released him to make choices, right or wrong. And now she needed to be free to make her own choices. No matter how incredibly illogical.

  ###

  Ionia, hands clasped together in front of her, scuttled toward her mother.

  “Do not do this. That is an order. I forbid it.” Her mom’s words were harsh, but her voice was several levels lower than its normal timbre.

  “I know the code,” Ionia said.

  “Let’s hope for her sake that is true.” Feinstein shoved her mom forward and snatched Ionia’s wrist, spun her and brought her arms up hard behind her.

  Ionia squeaked before biting her lip. She wouldn’t let the bastard know he was getting to her.

  Her mom whirled, fists up, face a mask of anger. Feinstein jerked his chin and his cohorts choked up on their guns. Her mom halted less than a meter before Feinstein.

  “I wouldn’t,” Feinstein said.

  Ionia wanted to join her mom and pummel the self-satisfied expression off his face.

  “Now, go. Leave. Ionia will be quite safe as long as she does what she promised.”

  “I will not leave my daughter. Not as long as there is breath within me.”

  A geyser of feeling sprung up in Ionia’s chest, and she swallowed against the cotton ball lump in her throat. “Listen, you have to go. I got this.”

  “You don’t have this. You are a child. You need protection and guidance.”

  “Mom. Really. I understood dad. I know the code, and I have this. Go.”

  Her mother’s black eyes bore into her for the first time instead of looking through her to some distant future. Some future that looked good and sounded safe.

  She actually looked at her. Her checks relaxed and her scowl softened.

  “How did you even find me?” her mom asked.

  “Enough,” Feinstein said. “Leave. Boys take our guests outside and guard the entrance.”

  “I’m not leaving. You will have to kill me first,” her mom said, squaring off with Feinstein again.

  Feinstein sighed as if dealing with a willful three-year-old and jerked his head to one of his soldier buddies.

  The Tall Man crossed the distance quickly and grasped her mom, lifting her off her feet. She kicked, screamed, and flailed. At last, he dropped her and punched her hard in the jaw. Her body dropped with a sick thud against the ice.

  White hot fury, burned like acid in Ionia’s veins. “You said she could go. She would not be hurt.”

  “She gave my man little choice.” Feinstein looked up at his man. “Carry her out, and do not harm her unless any of them tries to reenter.” He turned Ionia enough to be able to look her in the eye. “I do not renege on deals.”

  The soldiers ushered the small group out of the mouth of the cave. Simon and Den supported her beaten mom between them.

  “Dad won’t hurt her. He wouldn’t.” Simon repeated it brokenly as if the mantra might save his sanity.

  Den followed directions like a true android, but his face still held more concern than most humans she had ever known.

  Feinstein turned to Ionia. “Now about that code.”

  Feinstein and her. Alone. Up close. She could smell his minty breath. His eyes fixed on her like her a scalpel slicing into her brainpan. Nothing could remain secret from those eyes.

  He nudged her, arching her hands up until her shoulders twanged, pushing her to the panel next to the door.

  “You are saying my dad had this crazy place to keep his experiments?”

  “He did. I thought you said you knew the code. If you are lying, I'm going to become less than polite, very quickly.” He tilted her arms up and a searing pain shot up to her shoulder sockets.

  “No, no, no. I know the codes my dad used, but he never brought me here. But I know.”

  Feinstein’s upper lip quivered. “Sometimes father's don't tell their children everything.” He seemed to be pondering. It was the first flash of real emotion she'd seen from him. Maybe she could use that angle, and he wouldn't kill her once she put in the code.

  “What do you think Miranda is going to think of you now? And Simon?”

  Feinstein 's lips pursed and his brow lowered before he quickly smoothed his features.

  One point for Ionia.

  “They will know that I put their well-being first.”

  “At the expense of one of their friends.”

  Another flash on his sickly handsome face, lips rolled in, brows down. “I do not need a lecture about my children from a child. Open the door.”

  If her dad had created this place, and he did put it behind this elaborate locking door, then there had to be a reason. Her thoughts stopped right there. And her chest tightened. Her next breath was so hard to pull in. “You...didn't have anything to do with my dad's...”

  “Of course not. He fell while climbing, according to the official records.”

  Something strange rang in his tone, a slight waver. Was it regret? Fear? Her heart shrunk and shriveled. A frigid sense of doom descended on her worse than the coldest night outside. “What is behind the door?”

  “Something world changing.” He shoved the knife into her back. It sliced through her coat and her clothes. She felt the sharp pick on her skin. She grunted, and he stopped.

  “Do it.”

  She looked down at her bracelet. The colors of the rainbow, out of order
, but all there. She typed in BVRIOGY and the number one. She prayed her bluff wasn’t a bluff and that her intuition had actually worked.

  The panel sat dormant.

  Nothing moved, chirped, or flashed to indicate she’d done the code correctly.

  Feinstein pushed the knife deeper into her back, and fear clawed at her guts like a rabid dog with a fresh piece of meat. Did she know her dad as well as she thought?

  A whirl and a click, and the door slid open.

  Feinstein nudged her inside the new cavern.

  Reinforced steel beams ran across the expansive ceiling of the ice cave. It must have taken a few men with blasters a good day and a half to clear out the ice. Or one man a week or two with the right equipment. A machine sat in the center, large and ungainly, like most of her dad's creations in the rough beginning stages before someone would buy them and smooth out the details. The monstrosity was made of some black alloy and hunched close to the ground.

  Feinstein released her and rushed into the chamber, his eyes large and dilated. He smoothed a hand over the black shiny beetle-like surface like it was make of pure silver.

  Nothing stood between him and what he wanted.

  Chapter Fifteen

  Nothing but Ionia. She hovered by the exit but didn't leave. She could go now that his attention was fixed on his prize. She could make a dash for it and join her friends. Join her mom. But she couldn't seem to move.

  Couldn't keep a secret. Her dad's face as brilliant as it had always been stuck in her head. What had he always said about scientists and experiments?

  Never forget the end results and what they might be used for. Think of Hiroshima. Think of GMO. Think of the end, or it will be your end. Ionia would laugh and tell him she'd never, ever be a scientist. He would just say: We are all scientists. Then he’d break the somber mood and grab her by her armpits and swing her around.

  “What's it for?” Ionia asked.

  “A power enhancer.” Feinstein circled the machine, examining every angle, keeping a hand on it as if it might just run away. “I worked with your father.” His tone turned as if having a casual conversation with a friend. “He was going to sell me his technology. But he never had the chance.” Feinstein leaned back and gestured wide with his free hand. “Beneficial to all parties. The invention could be used for food generators and warming units.”