Forbidden Knowledge by Stephen R. Donaldson Read Free Book Online

the perfect hiding place, the trembling would break down her defenses, and she would panic.
    Almost in a rush, she left the cabin.
    Exploring, that’s what she would do, she would go exploring. Nick hadn’t told her to stay where she was. And anybody would understand her desire to familiarize herself with a new ship. As long as she didn’t accidentally gain the bridge.
    In part to keep her hands from shaking, and in part to make the action habitual, so that no one would consider it unusual, she shoved her fists deep into her pockets. Then she started hurrying along the passage in the opposite direction from the lift Vasaczk had used to take her to her cabin.
    No, she shouldn’t hurry. She couldn’t afford to be caught hurrying. That would lead to questions.
    She could feel her willpower fraying under the strain, but she forced herself to slow down, attempt a more casual stride.
    She passed four or five doors, all of them identical to hers; presumably Captain’s Fancy had that much accommodation for passengers. Then she reached another lift.
    There was no way to leave this section of the ship without using a lift. Bulkheads sealed both ends of the passage. And the movement of all the lifts would be monitored and controlled by Captain’s Fancy ’s maintenance computer. She couldn’t use one without the risk of attracting attention.
    She didn’t want to be noticed.
    Her shaking grew more violent. Without realizing it, she pulled her hands out of her pockets and covered her face. For several moments she stood frozen in front of the lift with her palms clamped over her eyes while her shoulders quivered.
    She couldn’t do it. Angus hadn’t left her enough courage. Nothing was safe enough. She should have stayed in her cabin and worked with the zone implant control until she found a cure for her fear.
    But in this state she might not have been able to make her fingers hit the buttons she chose. And, in any case, the computers could watch her door as easily as the lifts. She’d already put herself in jeopardy by leaving her cabin.
    Slowly she pulled her hands down from her face. When she’d succeeded at pushing one of them back into a pocket, she used the other to key the lift.
    If the different levels served by the lift had been labeled, she might have been able to make a neutral choice. If she’d been able to think clearly, she might have been able to reason out some of the ship’s internal structure. Since she didn’t have anything else to go by, she took the lift down one level and got out to look around.
    Almost at once she smelled coffee. By good fortune she’d arrived near the galley. At a guess, this level was the crew’s: it contained the galley and mess, wardrooms and cabins, used by Nick’s people. It might also hold the sickbay—a possibility she set aside for future exploration. As soon as she smelled the coffee, she realized that something as simple and ordinary as hot, black caffeine might be what she needed to steady her.
    She followed the smell away from the lift without pausing to consider the likelihood that the galley was already in use.
    She could smell coffee because the galley had no door: it was essentially a large niche in one of the interior bulkheads, with equipment built into the three walls and a round, easily reached table. She noticed a particularly luxurious foodvend, quite a few storage cabinets for staples and special supplies, and, of course, a coffee maker. The pot steamed richly in the ship’s dry atmosphere.
    She also noticed a man sitting at the table.
    At the sight, she froze again. She didn’t know whether to retreat or move forward. Everything was dangerous, and she didn’t know which risk was preferable.
    But she remembered to keep her fists in her pockets.
    The man had his hands wrapped around a hot mug as if he wanted the warmth. His fingers looked fat because they were stubby, and his face looked fat because it was almost perfectly round; nevertheless he was only