Oracle by Mike Resnick Read Free Book Online Page A

his head in wonderment. “You're the first guy I've ever seen who was in a hurry to go up against the Surgeon."
    "You look unhappy,” noted Chandler.
    "I was kind of hoping this job might last for more than half a day,” said Gin ironically.
    "It will."
    "I don't know about that,” said Gin. “You've got some Blue Devil out to kill you, and now you're going out of your way to confront the Surgeon. You're either awfully good or just out-and-out crazy."
    "I guess we'll find out, won't we?” said Chandler calmly.
    "I guess we will,” said Gin, pulling into traffic and heading for his next destination.
    Chandler leaned back on the seat and closed his eyes, totally at ease. He disliked waste, and for that reason he was sorry that he was going to have to sacrifice the Surgeon, especially since they were members of the same profession. But the Surgeon was a vital piece in the game upon which he had embarked: he had carefully mapped out his plan of attack, just as he used to plan his safaris in meticulous detail, and if he hadn't overlooked some hidden factor, this would put him one step closer to the Oracle.
    If he survived.
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5.
    "Okay, we're here,” announced Gin, getting out of the vehicle and approaching the dilapidated building.
    "Where's here?” asked Chandler.
    "It's called the Dreambasin."
    "A drug den?"
    Gin nodded. “The Surgeon stops by here every couple of days."
    "Curious."
    "How so?” asked Gin.
    "Professionals don't usually mess with drugs,” responded Chandler. “It screws up the perceptions and destroys the reflexes."
    "Oh, the Surgeon's no seed chewer,” said Gin. “But a lot of his clients are. If he's here, he's just tending to business."
    They walked up to the entrance, where Gin uttered a password and smiled into an overhead camera. The door slid back a moment later, and two muscular men confronted them.
    "Who do you have with you, Gin?” asked one of them.
    "He's my new employer,” answered the driver. “I personally vouch for him."
    The man turned to Chandler. “Name?"
    "Joshua Chandler."
    "Where are you staying?"
    "The Souk,” answered Chandler. “It's a boarding house on the west side of—"
    "I know where it is,” interrupted the man. “Occupation?"
    "Tourist."
    The man smiled. “Well, that's original, anyway.” He held out his hand. “Two hundred credits. And two hundred more for your employee."
    Chandler handed over the money. “Can we go in now?"
    "As soon as you check your weapons with us."
    "Does the Surgeon check his?” asked Chandler.
    "What the Surgeon does is none of your business, Mr. Chandler,” was the answer. “If you don't hand over your weapons, I'll have to remove them myself.” He placed a hand on the hilt of his laser pistol, as if to emphasize the point.
    "That wouldn't be wise,” said Chandler softly.
    Something in the tone of his voice made the man hesitate.
    "Either you turn them over, or you can't enter,” he said lamely.
    "Don't kill them,” Gin said to Chandler. “They're just doing their job."
    "If there's any killing done here, we're going to do it,” said the second man, finally choosing to speak.
    "You don't know who you're dealing with,” said Gin with such conviction that the second man, too, seemed suddenly hesitant.
    Nobody moved for a few seconds. Then Chandler removed his pistols and his knife and handed them to one of the men.
    "Let's go,” he said to Gin, as the man stepped aside, staring at him with a mixture of anger and uncertainty.
    They proceeded down a long, poorly-illuminated corridor, past a number of closed doors. The sickly sweet odor of palyp, an alien drug that humans had appropriated for themselves and now smoked in old-fashioned water pipes, permeated the air.
    They passed one open door and Chandler glanced in. Four women lay suspended above the floor on cushions of air; he couldn't tell whether they had been smoking or injecting, but three of them were near-catatonic. The fourth, her face