Read Online Asimov's Science Fiction: September 2013 by Penny Publications - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Penny Publications
Tags: Asimov's #452
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the vibration of the pod's casing, just a few inches above my body. The scythe had transmuted into a drill. If it pierced through the shell, the pod would depressurize, and I would suffocate.
The noise and vibration were terrifying. But half of showmanship is staying calm in all circumstances. I forced myself to concentrate on my options.
I had a pulse-gun, but the muzzle projected from the end of the pod; it couldn't target an enemy that had already latched onto the pod itself. There hadn't been room to include weapons for every contingency.
My thrusters were already firing at maximum capacity, since I needed to escape as quickly as possible, before my audience grew restless. I couldn't speed up and reach safety any sooner.
And so I turned to the escape hatch that I'd already used once. I selected a random long-range destination, and pressed the red button to take us to another universe. If I hadn't been watching for it, I might not have noticed the slight shift in the patterns of the constellations.
The drill continued its deadly descent. The high-pitched whine had deepened into a baritone warble, as the drill-bit penetrated further into the casing. I pressed the button again. And again. In each new universe, the stars changed. "What are you trying to do, make me dizzy?" sneered my assailant. "I'm not going to fall off!"
I knew that he could feel the transitions as we hopped across universes. I didn't know whether he'd spotted the change in the stars, or whether he guessed what I was trying to do.
"You can't escape Death so easily," the figure said. It emitted a ghastly cackle. The phantom laughter chilled my spine, until I forced myself to consider how much rehearsal and sound-effects trickery it must have taken for someone to perfect the hollow chuckling.
"But you're not Death," I said. "You're just some guy dressing up. Who are you really?"
As I spoke, I realized the unconscious assumption I'd made in saying "guy," and I wondered whether my antagonist could be a woman... perhaps even Veronica.
In the old days as Queen of Elf land, she used to enjoy sending knights on dangerous quests. But she also envied the adventures we had, battling strange perils and exotic temptations. And so she would—we suspected—don armor and join us in the guise of a knight newly arrived from some faraway realm.
I'd told Veronica about the escapologists' games of sabotage. I could imagine her deciding to join in, on a whim. But I couldn't imagine her being so vicious as to dress up as Death and actively try to murder me.
Well, perhaps I could. To prevent our relationship growing stale, we often spiced it up with various antics, enjoying the shared thrill of reaching for novelty, for mystery, for danger. This attack was extreme, but that gave it the benef it of surprise. Among immortals, surprise is rare and highly valued.
"Veronica, my darling..." I said, expecting that once I guessed her identity, she would drop her disguise. Then she might flounce away, to tantalize me. Or she might crawl inside the pod with me, and we would make jaded love under the distant stars.
Again came the ghastly cackle of jeering contempt. "You think I'm Veronica? Your judgment is rather poor. Or perhaps I should say...
our
judgment?"
The bodiless skull vanished, replaced by a commonplace spacesuit. Its transparent head-bubble framed an ordinary face—a very ordinary face. My own.
Suddenly, bright sunshine illuminated us. I'd continued hopping through random universes, and we'd just entered one with a nearby star. My doppelgänger blinked ref lexively. His suit's bubble darkened to protect him from radiation, but I still saw every detail of his visage: the severely cropped hair, the clean-shaven chin, the old-fashioned waxed moustache that I'd adopted five years ago, then abandoned when rival performers began sporting ever more elaborate moustaches in subtle mockery.
"Your impression is out of date," I said, striving to sound dismissive. Yet a
The noise and vibration were terrifying. But half of showmanship is staying calm in all circumstances. I forced myself to concentrate on my options.
I had a pulse-gun, but the muzzle projected from the end of the pod; it couldn't target an enemy that had already latched onto the pod itself. There hadn't been room to include weapons for every contingency.
My thrusters were already firing at maximum capacity, since I needed to escape as quickly as possible, before my audience grew restless. I couldn't speed up and reach safety any sooner.
And so I turned to the escape hatch that I'd already used once. I selected a random long-range destination, and pressed the red button to take us to another universe. If I hadn't been watching for it, I might not have noticed the slight shift in the patterns of the constellations.
The drill continued its deadly descent. The high-pitched whine had deepened into a baritone warble, as the drill-bit penetrated further into the casing. I pressed the button again. And again. In each new universe, the stars changed. "What are you trying to do, make me dizzy?" sneered my assailant. "I'm not going to fall off!"
I knew that he could feel the transitions as we hopped across universes. I didn't know whether he'd spotted the change in the stars, or whether he guessed what I was trying to do.
"You can't escape Death so easily," the figure said. It emitted a ghastly cackle. The phantom laughter chilled my spine, until I forced myself to consider how much rehearsal and sound-effects trickery it must have taken for someone to perfect the hollow chuckling.
"But you're not Death," I said. "You're just some guy dressing up. Who are you really?"
As I spoke, I realized the unconscious assumption I'd made in saying "guy," and I wondered whether my antagonist could be a woman... perhaps even Veronica.
In the old days as Queen of Elf land, she used to enjoy sending knights on dangerous quests. But she also envied the adventures we had, battling strange perils and exotic temptations. And so she would—we suspected—don armor and join us in the guise of a knight newly arrived from some faraway realm.
I'd told Veronica about the escapologists' games of sabotage. I could imagine her deciding to join in, on a whim. But I couldn't imagine her being so vicious as to dress up as Death and actively try to murder me.
Well, perhaps I could. To prevent our relationship growing stale, we often spiced it up with various antics, enjoying the shared thrill of reaching for novelty, for mystery, for danger. This attack was extreme, but that gave it the benef it of surprise. Among immortals, surprise is rare and highly valued.
"Veronica, my darling..." I said, expecting that once I guessed her identity, she would drop her disguise. Then she might flounce away, to tantalize me. Or she might crawl inside the pod with me, and we would make jaded love under the distant stars.
Again came the ghastly cackle of jeering contempt. "You think I'm Veronica? Your judgment is rather poor. Or perhaps I should say...
our
judgment?"
The bodiless skull vanished, replaced by a commonplace spacesuit. Its transparent head-bubble framed an ordinary face—a very ordinary face. My own.
Suddenly, bright sunshine illuminated us. I'd continued hopping through random universes, and we'd just entered one with a nearby star. My doppelgänger blinked ref lexively. His suit's bubble darkened to protect him from radiation, but I still saw every detail of his visage: the severely cropped hair, the clean-shaven chin, the old-fashioned waxed moustache that I'd adopted five years ago, then abandoned when rival performers began sporting ever more elaborate moustaches in subtle mockery.
"Your impression is out of date," I said, striving to sound dismissive. Yet a
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