Secret Histories 10: Dr. DOA by Simon R. Green Read Free Book Online Page B

kicked the door open and barged in, Molly right behind me. Half a dozen technical staff looked up, startled. I was about to armour up, when Molly barked out the single word “Sleep!” and they all fell fast asleep at their posts. A few of them even snored gently. Molly looked at me suddenly.
    “Oh I’m sorry, Eddie! Did you still need to hit someone? I could always wake them up again.”
    “Thanks for the thought,” I said, “but the moment’s passed. Stand by the door and keep an ear out while I check this place over.”
    That she didn’t give me any grief for giving her orders was a sign of how concerned she still was about me. She just nodded and looked out into the corridor while I examined the communications equipment. It all seemed standard enough. I chose a likely looking terminal, armoured up my hand, and sent tendrils of golden strange matter sneaking into the system to override its restrictions and corrupt its programming. My armour can do many amazing things, and I don’t understand half of them. Mind you, I feel the same way about most of the cars I drive. The ship’s main computer couldn’t have been more helpful, answering questions almost before I could ask them. It still took a while to dig out the information I needed. Long enough for Molly to get bored at her post and wander back to join me.
    “I’m still not clear on what we’re looking for here.”
    “The secret of Cassandra’s success,” I said patiently. “Whether it’s a what, or a who. Hmm . . . according to this, Cassandra’s been selling future information for only about eight months. So whatever it is, they haven’t had it long. What do you think, alien tech, or some gifted psychic? Remember the little old lady I told you about, the one at Lark Hill who could listen to the whole country at once?”
    “If there was anyone like that here, I’d feel it,” said Molly. “I suppose it could be some kind of divination, powered by blood sacrifice.”
    “Trust you to think of something like that,” I said.
    “I’ve been around,” she said airily. “I’ve seen things.”
    “I’m sure you have.”
    The computer made a series of agreeable sounds, indicating that my armour had tickled it in all the right places, and it was now ready to spill the beans. Except, the computer didn’t actually know the source of Cassandra’s predictions. Apparently, such knowledge was limited to upper-management personnel only. But the computer did know where the source was. It even printed out a map for me, without having to be asked. I withdrew my golden tendrils and shut the terminal down. Molly pored over the map.
    “Not far, just a few corridors down. Nothing here about security measures, though . . .”
    “Bound to be some, but there was nothing listed in the computer,” I said. “And trust me, I looked. Doesn’t matter. I’ll set my armour against anything Cassandra can put up. I mean, look around; it’s not exactly state of the art here, is it?”
    “Maybe most of their budget went on some really nasty hidden security,” Molly said darkly.
    I took the map and headed for the door, and then stopped so suddenly, Molly almost ran into me. I looked back at the sleeping members of the tech staff, still slumped in their seats.
    “They will all wake up again, on their own, won’t they?”
    “Oh sure,” said Molly. “Eventually.”
    “What if they don’t?”
    “Then someone had better put a wall of thorns around them and hope for a handsome prince.”
    *   *   *
    We headed briskly through the narrow steel corridors, looking so in charge that everyone we met en route just naturally hurried to get out of our way. It’s all down to the walk. When we finally arrived at the right location, the empty corridor stretching away before us seemed entirelyunremarkable. No one around, no signs or numbers on any of the doors. I counted them off until we were standing before the door marked on the map. Nothing about it to suggest it