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Two Months Ago—September 13, 2073
There were no doors in the temporal sciences building, not one. After four years as a student at Warner University and a year and a half as a grad assistant, it was only now Shannan noticed the purposeful lack of privacy built into the place.
Her heavy breathing echoed off the tile and plexiglass, her fingers trembling as they snaked over the keyboard, typing Dr. Chandrasekhar’s stolen authentication codes into the console.
“You’re sweating, darling.” Daniel’s voice was a mere whisper, but in the dark, silent building, it may as well have been a siren.
Shannan’s stomach spasmed at the sound, sending fresh rivulets of sweat pouring down her back.
“Aren’t you?” she asked, letting out a shaky exhale as the console beeped its acceptance of her codes. Such a tiny sound, only a fraction of a second long, but it sent them both to giggling—sweaty, relieved laughter in smothered, whispered voices.
It had worked. This was going to work.
Finally comfortable enough to tear her eyes away from the console, Shannan looked up at Daniel, her vision blurring as she looked at him for the last time. He had lost weight these last few months, which was reasonable given what they’d done to him, how they’d taken everything from him. The dark ages clothing he wore fit loosely, hanging off him in a way she never thought possible. The beginnings of a beard shone in the light, the specks of gray making him look old now, instead of distinguished.
The first time she’d laid eyes on him as a freshman, she’d shyly commented he looked like a polo player, something he’d laughed at. The gents don’t let the likes of me into their polo clubs, love. That’s why I ended up teaching in America.
“There’s no need for that, Shannan.”
At the sound of his voice, slightly louder this time, she refocused on his face.
“Yes there is.” She stopped holding back the sob and pushed away from the console, holding her hands out to her sides helplessly. “I’m never going to see you again.”
“You don’t know that, love,” he soothed, beckoning her closer to him.
Already in place to travel, Daniel stood behind yet another plexiglass barrier, leaving her unable to touch him. Not that she’d reach for him anyway. He wasn’t the hugging sort. But sometimes, when it was just the two of them, he’d given her the occasional arm or shoulder squeeze. Once, he’d even rubbed her back as she cried after a particularly nasty call with her mother. But there would be no touching him now, no first and last hug between them. Only her hand against cold plexiglass, with his hand just on the other side.
“I might still be alive when you come. Stranger things have happened.” He smiled reassuringly at her, but she could see he was afraid, that he didn’t want to go.
“You don’t have to do this,” she said in a strangled whisper, the effort of keeping her voice down taxing her.
“Of course I don’t.” He shrugged, as if he hadn’t a care in the world. “I can stay here and wait for the DA to paint me as a brute and have the jury agree with her. I can go to prison where my best hope is that I’m too old to be made someone’s girlfriend.”
“Jesus,” Shannan turned away from him, covering her face so as not to burden him with her crying. He had enough of his own emotions to shoulder. He didn’t need hers as well.
“Shannan,” Daniel called, the speaker giving his voice a tinny quality. “You’ve been protected from so much of what this place is really like. It’s over for me here. But you still have to swim in these dangerous waters. So send me and get out of here. The cameras may be off, but the longer you stay…”
Still choked with sobs, Shannan nodded and held up her hand, understanding all too well the consequences if she were to be caught, or even suspected, of tampering with the equipment for an unauthorized trip.
The other professors—hell, anyone who knew Daniel—understood the charges against him were a political hit. But it hadn’t stopped the indictment. It wouldn’t stop the eventual conviction. Nor would it save her from the same if she were discovered to have helped him escape.
Taking her hands away from her face and turning back to him, she did her best to get a hold of herself, to be the stoic professional he’d taught her to be, no matter how hard it was. “I’ll just miss you so much.”
“And I you,” he said, his mouth tight. “But you never know. You might be seeing me again in a few hours, in all of my elderly glory.”
At the thought of seeing him again, old and happy, a smile returned to her face and hope once more soared in her spirit. You’re doing the right thing. You’re saving your friend.
“I need to go now, Shannan. We’ve already taken longer than we should have.”
Wiping her red, blotchy face, Shannan nodded and went back to the console, knowing with just one push of a button, one second of time, Daniel would be gone.
She gave another hard sniff, determined not to let his last memory of her be a blubbering mess, and held her finger above the execute button.
“Thank you for being my friend,” she whispered, looking at his beautiful face, at the tiny muscles therein working together to put on a brave front… probably entirely for her benefit.
“Goodbye, darling,” he whispered back.
Swallowing the lump in her throat, Shannan pushed the execute button, closing her eyes as she did, not willing to watch Daniel blink out of the room, disappearing as if he never existed at all.
There was no sound when someone traveled, not from the phenomenon itself or from the machines. Nothing but silence surrounded her now. When she opened her eyes to see the empty platform, the expected flood of tears drained away, the lump in her throat and tightness in her chest likewise fading. He’s safe now. He’s free.
With a final sniff, Shannan backed away from the console and weaved her way through the glass entry corridor to the launch station, not bothering to wipe the streaks from her face. In a few hours, she’d be traveling through time herself, all the way back to ninth-century Britain, where she might be able to see Daniel again. But in the interim, she had to appear normal.
When Daniel failed to appear for his trial, they’d send the cops, who would find him gone—without a trace, actually. There was no way they’d just let it drop. The Kansas City DA had thrown her full weight behind prosecuting him and she’d want someone’s head on a pike for helping him flee. If Shannan acted suspiciously, she might be greeted with a set of handcuffs when she returned from her trip. So it was best to get her tears out now, when no one could see.
The temporal sciences building wasn’t terribly large but the launch stations were on the top floor, on the very opposite side from the sole bank of elevators. It had been designed that way so there’d be no quick exit for someone who’d come with malicious intent—someone like her.
Unwilling to turn on the lights, even with the disabled cameras and her stolen authentication badge, Shannan moved as quickly as she dared down the nearly pitch-black hallway until she emerged into the elevator bay, lit at least partially through the skylight.
Rather than push the button for the elevators, she walked over to the railing and looked down, quelling her anxiety at the sight of the four-story drop. The temporal center had been redesigned so all four floors were built in a mezzanine style, again, so there would be no straight path to the elevators or staircase—both of which had their own DNA sensors and a camera system independent of the rest of the building. She hadn’t been able to disable those.
Dr. Chandrasekhar knew every inch of the temporal sciences center. But he had no idea where the power source was for the elevator cameras, or even who monitored them. One of many secrets around this place. So Daniel, resourceful as he was, had come up with an alternative path to go up four floors and back down again.
In her black stretch pants and nimble dance sneakers, she climbed over the railing, swung her legs onto the cherry-picker platform, and steeled herself against the instinctual fear of falling. You’re safe, just like you were on the way up. But on the way up, she’d had Daniel beside her, holding her hand as the gears of the machine pushed the platform up to the fourth-floor balcony, making more noise than either of them would have liked. Now alone, all she could do was breathe in and out as the platform slowly lowered her down to the first floor.
The click of the gears echoed through the lobby as the platform halted. She held perfectly still for a moment, listening for the sound of any other person in the building. When no sound came forth, she turned back to the control panel and pushed the joystick, unlocking the wheels and navigating the cherry picker back to its appointed closet. Normally this would have been easy. But this morning, the lobby was cluttered with long tables, a dance floor, and a podium already set up for the building re-dedication scheduled for this evening. She had to steer around every one of the obstacles, cursing the cherry-picker’s less-than-nimble handling the whole way.
Guilt stabbed through her stomach; she felt like she was defiling the building, sullying the happy day that would see the Ignatius Science Center renamed for her own grandmother—The Kathleen Mulligan Temporal Science Center. It was bad enough she’d miss the celebration, as she would still be traveling in time. Memaw understood of course. And if she was honest, her famous grandmother would probably also understand if Shannan told her what she was doing tonight… how she’d helped Daniel. But he’d made her promise not to tell anyone, not ever, not even on her deathbed. And she would keep that promise for both their sakes.
After stowing the cherry-picker safely in its utility closet, Shannan locked the door and jogged back to the lobby. She and Daniel had come in through one of the side doors, the private entrance for the technical staff. But, per their plan, Shannan would exit through the front door. There was so much security in this building and neither of them were cocky enough to believe their pre-dawn presence in the building would go entirely unnoticed. So Shannan had come up with a reasonable alibi for being in the building—she was selecting her clothing for today’s trip and securing them in her locker. A common enough practice. And since she was a teaching assistant, she had the right to come here during off hours.
So out the front door she walked, fixing her face into the best impression of casual innocence she could muster, a look that morphed into panic when she walked right into another person.
Gasping out loud, she recoiled in horror, and nearly toppled over.
His hands shot out to steady her. “Whoa! Don’t freak out. It’s just me,” Fredo laughed, the firmness of his grip on her shoulders contrasting with the ease in his voice.1
Finally recognizing him, Shannan breathed out an imitation of relief, though she felt nothing of the sort. What is he doing here? No one’s supposed to be in the building this early! Immediately, her palms began to sweat, something she concealed by gripping the sleeves of his jacket.
“What-uh…” she began, flicking her eyes from his clothing to his newly long hair. “What are you doing here?”
Alfredo beamed proudly and he gave her shoulders one last squeeze, ensuring she was secure on her feet. “Dr. Storm has a meeting with Dr. Makeba this morning before our trip. He asked me to come too.”
Oh my god. The president of the university herself was coming here—the literal scene of the crime. “I… I didn’t know that,” she mumbled.
“Why would you?” he laughed. “So what are you doing here so early?”
He threw the question out casually and, if she hadn’t known him so well, she might have bought the act. But she did know him. Alfredo could sniff out weakness like a blood hound, a skill no doubt developed while growing up in foster care hell. There was nothing casual about his question.
Wringing her hands and looking down, Shannan muttered, “Promise not to laugh?”
Instantly, Alfredo’s shoulders loosened and he leaned forward. “Of course!”
“Dev told me when he went to Agincourt last fall, he got stuck wearing clothes that didn’t fit him. And I mean, really didn’t fit. Everything was too short and he had a few inches of exposed leg. He looked so stupid that the locals pointed and laughed at him through his whole trip. I … I don’t want to worry about that.”
Her blood pounded in her ears and for the first time, she was grateful for her pale, pink-toned skin. She could feel the hard flush on her face, from her cheeks to her ears. Even in the dim light, Alfredo had to see it. And he would attribute it to embarrassment, not to being terrified of being thrown in Federal prison.
“Isn’t Dev that freakishly tall guy?” Fredo asked, brushing his bangs from his eyes. “He’s like six-seven, isn’t he? You’re normal height. I’m sure everything will fit you.”
Smiling shyly, Shannan looked down, right at her huge boobs. “Yeah, it wasn’t the height I was worried about. I am going to the dark ages, after all. Alone. Don’t want to... uh. Well, don’t want to give the wrong impression to the locals.” She let out another nervous laugh, though feeling a little more secure as Alfredo darted his eyes away, not wanting to follow her gaze to her chest.
“And where are you going that you needed to get extensions?” She gestured to his newly shoulder-length hair, tied back in a loose ponytail. Alfredo normally kept his hair close cropped and had some mighty strong opinions about men who didn’t.
“England,” he said, again beaming proudly. “The beginning of the Glorious Revolution. We’re going as Quakers, so no wigs, thank God.”
She nodded and smiled back, her heart going back to its normal pace. “What a coincidence, we’re going to the same place. Different time though, obviously.” She fidgeted nervously, wiping her hands on her pants. “Anyway, I’ll let you get ready for your meeting. I know Dr. Makeba can be… snippy sometimes.”
“Block of ice, more like it,” Alfredo retorted, his face suddenly darkening.
She smiled at him, this time with an awkward goodbye nod, and took a step to get past him.
“Hey, do you wanna grab breakfast when we both get back? Like on Saturday?”
She halted at his question and forced herself to smile, even though her first instinct was to press her lips together. From the day they’d met in her “MacGyver for Time Travelers” course, it had been immediately clear his interest in her class wasn’t just about learning to use common items for life-saving contraptions.
She preferred not to dwell on how exceptional-looking he was. Tall and lean and golden-skinned. He looked younger than nineteen, which added to the discomfort of noticing his looks. She reckoned he was still several years away from his jaw squaring off and his mouth losing that soft look.
Despite all that, she’d known the moment he screwed up the courage to ask her out would come eventually. Since his freshman year was done, he was no longer her student. So now the moment she dreaded was here. Under any other circumstances, she’d say no. Definitely not.
But she didn’t want him dwelling on her being in the building this morning. She certainly didn’t want him mentioning it to Dr. Makeba.
“Yes, that would be great,” she said, her voice higher than usual. “We could probably both use some pancakes after eating old-fashioned British food for days.”
He laughed, his smile the broadest she’d ever seen it. “Perfect,” he beamed. “I can’t wait.”
“Me neither,” she said. “Safe travels.”
“You too.”
She walked away, letting the cold wind in her face cool the heat in her cheeks. This is no big deal, she chided herself.
In order to save Daniel, she’d seduced Dr. Chandrasekhar over a series of weeks to pump him for information on the cameras and get his access codes. She’d broken Federal law by misusing time travel technology, and she’d aided a man charged with murder in his escape from the justice system. Going to breakfast with a nineteen-year-old with a crush on her was the least of her worries.
You can read this same scene from Alfredo’s point of view in Time’s Assassin