Read Online Asimov's SF, September 2010 by Dell Magazine Authors - Free Book Online
Authors: Dell Magazine Authors
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never that simple, not between Clarise and me.
Clarise helped Sean to his feet. She glared at me, her free hand resting possessively against his chest. Behind them, a full wall of the conference room flickered with electronics.
This was the critical moment. Clarise was the only person in the room who had been part of the attack in the basement apartment. Had she told anyone besides Sean that I was part of an assault from the future? I suspected that she hadn't, that the kids surrounding me saw only an angry father trying to manhandle his daughter out of an unwanted situation.
I wondered what Clarise saw. An old man, perhaps. Worn out, wrung out, the ghost of the tall, strong father who had swung her over his head and chased her, giggling, across the lawn in simpler days. Did she think the trembling in my hands came from fragility? Did she know how close I was to a battle rage?
Ten years of training and twenty years of PTSD screamed at me to shoulder the man to my left (who probably thought his beneath-the-jacket groping for his gun was subtle), snatch his weapon from its holster, down five targets, roll to cover, and improvise from there. But Sean hadn't gathered his wits about him yet, so I waited, trembling.
I had the group's leader pegged now, the one Chen-chi had called Sharken. He was the low-profile type; didn't dress any different than his underlings. But everyone looked sidelong at him to know what to do. He leaned back in his chair.
"I think your daughter's old enough that she doesn't need to tell you everything she does.” He raised his hand in a casual gesture, probably intending to signal his thugs to take me down.
"That's debatable,” I said. “But I was referring to the secrets she's been keeping from you."
The hand stopped mid-gesture.
"Or didn't Clarise tell you her father works as an undercover agent?"
I had the room's full attention now. Several thugs pulled their weapons into the open.
"Hold your fire, you morons.” Sharken's voice was calm, confident. Pitched low, but his words carried clearly in the small room. “Do you want to bring the library staff down here with the police in tow?"
Sean had pulled Clarise to the side, a few steps away from the door. He murmured something in her ear. She pulled against his arm, whispering furiously. I judged there were about seven and a half minutes left before Jo-jo's bomb exploded.
Get out, Clarise. For once in your life, do the smart thing.
Sharken ordered his thugs to tie my arms behind my back and search me. I had no weapons, and it seemed to make them nervous that they couldn't find any. With my face toward the wall as they patted me down for the third time, I could not see Clarise. I hoped that Sean had convinced her to slip out of the room with him.
Ready or not, I was out of time. I chose my moment and jerked sharply, twisting out of the sloppy hold two thugs had on my arms. I backed into the right-hand thug and made a blind grab for his gun with my bound hands.
He pulled the holster away, but I'd expected that. I grabbed his belt, bent my knees and heaved. He sailed across my back and slid, flailing, into a kid who'd been trying to grapple me around the neck.
The room erupted into motion. People shouted; chairs scooted. I put the wall at my back and worked to free my hands. Across the room, Sean was tugging on Clarise's arm, pulling her toward the doorway. She resisted. Dumb thug. Just my luck that he turned out to be a lousy liar.
Someone clubbed me with a book. I rolled my head with the blow, dodged the next two attacks, and landed a kick to a teenager's midriff. A chair cracked against my shoulders, and I fell flat on my chest.
A turquoise blur rushed to my side, knocking away a man who'd been about to throw a table lamp at my head. The lamp shattered against the wall. The blur resolved into Clarise. “Don't hurt him,” she shouted. “He's harmless. He just gets these fits."
"Enough of this,” Sharken said. He pulled a gun from
Clarise helped Sean to his feet. She glared at me, her free hand resting possessively against his chest. Behind them, a full wall of the conference room flickered with electronics.
This was the critical moment. Clarise was the only person in the room who had been part of the attack in the basement apartment. Had she told anyone besides Sean that I was part of an assault from the future? I suspected that she hadn't, that the kids surrounding me saw only an angry father trying to manhandle his daughter out of an unwanted situation.
I wondered what Clarise saw. An old man, perhaps. Worn out, wrung out, the ghost of the tall, strong father who had swung her over his head and chased her, giggling, across the lawn in simpler days. Did she think the trembling in my hands came from fragility? Did she know how close I was to a battle rage?
Ten years of training and twenty years of PTSD screamed at me to shoulder the man to my left (who probably thought his beneath-the-jacket groping for his gun was subtle), snatch his weapon from its holster, down five targets, roll to cover, and improvise from there. But Sean hadn't gathered his wits about him yet, so I waited, trembling.
I had the group's leader pegged now, the one Chen-chi had called Sharken. He was the low-profile type; didn't dress any different than his underlings. But everyone looked sidelong at him to know what to do. He leaned back in his chair.
"I think your daughter's old enough that she doesn't need to tell you everything she does.” He raised his hand in a casual gesture, probably intending to signal his thugs to take me down.
"That's debatable,” I said. “But I was referring to the secrets she's been keeping from you."
The hand stopped mid-gesture.
"Or didn't Clarise tell you her father works as an undercover agent?"
I had the room's full attention now. Several thugs pulled their weapons into the open.
"Hold your fire, you morons.” Sharken's voice was calm, confident. Pitched low, but his words carried clearly in the small room. “Do you want to bring the library staff down here with the police in tow?"
Sean had pulled Clarise to the side, a few steps away from the door. He murmured something in her ear. She pulled against his arm, whispering furiously. I judged there were about seven and a half minutes left before Jo-jo's bomb exploded.
Get out, Clarise. For once in your life, do the smart thing.
Sharken ordered his thugs to tie my arms behind my back and search me. I had no weapons, and it seemed to make them nervous that they couldn't find any. With my face toward the wall as they patted me down for the third time, I could not see Clarise. I hoped that Sean had convinced her to slip out of the room with him.
Ready or not, I was out of time. I chose my moment and jerked sharply, twisting out of the sloppy hold two thugs had on my arms. I backed into the right-hand thug and made a blind grab for his gun with my bound hands.
He pulled the holster away, but I'd expected that. I grabbed his belt, bent my knees and heaved. He sailed across my back and slid, flailing, into a kid who'd been trying to grapple me around the neck.
The room erupted into motion. People shouted; chairs scooted. I put the wall at my back and worked to free my hands. Across the room, Sean was tugging on Clarise's arm, pulling her toward the doorway. She resisted. Dumb thug. Just my luck that he turned out to be a lousy liar.
Someone clubbed me with a book. I rolled my head with the blow, dodged the next two attacks, and landed a kick to a teenager's midriff. A chair cracked against my shoulders, and I fell flat on my chest.
A turquoise blur rushed to my side, knocking away a man who'd been about to throw a table lamp at my head. The lamp shattered against the wall. The blur resolved into Clarise. “Don't hurt him,” she shouted. “He's harmless. He just gets these fits."
"Enough of this,” Sharken said. He pulled a gun from
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