Read Online Rogue-ARC by Michael Z. Williamson - Free Book Online Page A

don’t need to set any records . . .”
    “Yes, all the usual stuff. But this is more important, and new.”
    She nodded and came over.
    “Now, I told you you can’t come. This is a military mission and the people involved are dangerous pros. In addition, don’t talk to anybody. Nothing. Not even Andre. I’m so ass over heels I took my new girlfriend and went on a trip and left you behind. You hate the fossil-hunting bitch. Whatever. But not a hint that it’s duty related. Your life depends on it. And stay armed. It won’t do you any good, but there’s no reason not to.”
    “They don’t like us armed at school, Dad. You know that,” she said.
    Playing me off against the school, of all places. I could only assume it was adolescent rebellion on her part. “I don’t care what they like,” I said, exasperated. “It’s your right, and I pay a lot of money for you to go there, so they can get stuffed. Carry a fucking gun.”
    “Yes, sir,” she said. That told me she believed that I believed what I was telling her.
    “Good,” I said. “Don’t be nice, either. If someone makes a move on you, shoot. Don’t give them first aid if wounded, just keep shooting until you get the head. Then get it again. You’ve got court legal cause to be afraid. This type of asshole is especially dangerous if wounded.”
    “Ripper?” she asked.
    “About that mean,” I nodded. “A ripper is slightly faster. Slightly. But these people are much smarter and much trickier.”
    She said, “So you’re going to kill someone?” She looked really bothered and trembly.
    I sighed. Dammit.
    “Yes. I am. I can’t tell you why and you need to forget it, but a lot of people’s lives are riding on it and I have some specific skills, so does Silver. I shouldn’t even say this much, and you’re at risk if you ever mention it. Remember what I said we were doing?”
    She’s a decent actress. She clouded up and said, “You’re taking that hatchet-faced slut on a vacation and didn’t invite me. I guess I’m glad you’re dating, but you could have some class. Maybe getting over it will let you find someone worthwhile.”
    “Good,” I agreed. It was good. The way she delivered it, I not only believed it, I felt contempt for this asshole father of hers.
    “Now, let me tell you a few more things,” I said. She nodded. “First, hit me. Full contact punch.”
    She studied me for a moment, then tossed a creditable sunfist.
    I wasn’t there. “Again,” I said. She punched once more with a parallel kick. I slipped past the punch, and instead of deflecting her leg aside, I got my hand underneath and followed the motion through and up, taking her foot with it and up past two meters. She went down, slapped the ground to break her fall—good form, I was proud of her—and tried to sit up.
    Her eyes were very wide when she saw the Merrill growing out of my fist. The muzzle was against her nose. That got her attention, and I panned it down, following her throat then to center of mass, just under her breastbone. “I’m not Boosted,” I told her. “You’ve never seen me all out. Until last week. Now, imagine me Boosted. Imagine me just this fast, from behind. You’re dead.” Helping her to her feet I said, “You did well. Have a seat.
    “You’re young, flexible, smart, well-trained and a very good girl,” I told her. She smiled just slightly and I said, “And that means shit in a fight. Fights go to the mean ones who don’t stop. That’s me and my target. Fights go to those who expect to get hurt and don’t care. Who have years of experience killing people. Who are tired and cynical and lumber through like a stumblebeast, not like a leopard or ripper. You’re graceful and strong and any normal attacker is going to find you more than he wants to screw with. But they or I could kill you and barely notice.”
    She was looking put upon. “So why’d you train me?” she asked.
    “Same reason I keep weapons, fire extinguishers,