Dream Thing

This was so small as to be alien. All the more repulsive was that it was made by man.

He stood before the blackened aluminum box and peered into the open hatch, from whence Cottingsharm had extracted the mass of tiny machines. One or more of them remained within. One of them was looking at him; Chiun felt it. He stroked the threads of his beard, then began to work again with the hammer. He rubbed the head around the openings, superheating them, making the exit impassable, then feverishly heated the entire exterior of the aluminum. The hammerhead became hot but the aluminum remained gray. The superheated air hissing through the cracks indicated when the entire interior had reached oven temperatures.

Chiun dropped the hammer and watched the aluminum box for a moment; he could never know for certain that he had succeeded in killing it.

Not kill. It was not alive. It was a machine. He wasn’t killing it, but simply dismantling it. Why was the greatest assassin of the modern age doing the work of a junkyard dog?

That’s what Remo was for.

Chapter 14

“What took you, Little Father?” Remo asked impatiently. “Sounded like shop class down there.”

Remo’s store of bizarre and meaningless comments was endless, and Chiun dismissively waved a hand. “One of the cells was breached. I destroyed the contents.”

“How?”

“It matters not.”

“It matters a lot. How’d you kill them?”

Chiun pursed his lips. Remo was an excellent pupil in some ways. Decorum was not one of them. He had never learned to understand when it was best for all involved to leave some things unspoken. Chiun felt justified by what he had done, but Remo would give him no peace. Still, it would be best to admit it now.

“I used a hammer,” Chiun said hastily.

“What?” Remo asked. “A tool?”

“Yes. A tool. When one fights unnatural foes, one must adopt unnatural methods. What other way was I to incinerate the tiny devices?” Chiun haughtily explained his method of destroying the mechanisms in the flowing substance. “Tell me what better way to dispose of these abominations?”

Remo shrugged sloppily. “Hey, if it works, why not? I’m sure I couldn’t have come up with anything better.”

They passed in silence among the cubes, which made slithering sounds that were muted by the thick stainless-steel walls. The Cottingsharm army was lined up along one wall. Some were breathing; some were not.

The quiet was strange and foul. Chiun’s skin felt like it was tingling. He was too alert, too aware. He kept thinking he felt the prickling of those tiny little eyes on him.

“This place makes my flesh crawl,” Remo declared.

“I hope you are joking. I have long ago instructed you in the mastery of crawling flesh,” Chiun said.

“It’s this place. It’s this stuff. These things. I don’t even know how to talk about them. I just know they’re wrong. And did you notice the brand name?” Remo jabbed a finger at the etching in the stainless steel: Property Of The United States Of America. “Makes me feel ill.”

“I assume this is another feeble joke.” Chiun observed Remo halt at an emergency containment booth. Behind the glass was a bodysuit of shiny material and an airtight helmet like those donned by the space shuttlers.

The sign read In Case Of Emergency, Break Glass. The neatly piled hose inside was of a different makeup than the water hoses Chiun was used to seeing.

“Look. A spark igniter. That’s a welding torch. The hose has welder’s gas. Probably high-temperature stuff to patch up a box in an emergency breech. Still, not enough gas to blow this place up.”

Chiun regarded his pupil reproachfully. “My method of creating heat with a hammer would be faster than that tiny flame. Let the Emperor care for disposal of the nanomachinoids.”

“Trust Smitty to do the right thing? I don’t think so. But you knew that, didn’t you? You want me to shoulder all the responsibility.”

“You are Reigning Master and contract negotiator. Not I,” Chiun sniffed.

“Whatever. You can blame it all on me. Maybe we could feed a garden hose from the gas main in the house.”

More ridiculous words pouring from the mouth of Remo, the Obviously White Master of Sinanju.

Chiun started to respond, but instead he suddenly ran. He ran in fire.

Remo heard the clicks of a hundred tiny valves, flush-mounted in the stainless steel all around them and opening all at once. The sound of a hissing snake strike filled the vast chamber—it was the release of gas at an immensely high pressure. Remo was already running. Chiun was at his side. The vast chamber seemed longer than when they came through the first time.

Floor slots opened to suck the old air out and make room for the flammable mixture. More tiny flickers in a dozen places produced sparks. In under a second the room was filled with hydrogen and billowing with flame.

Remo and Chiun were out of the chamber, but the gas clouds were in pursuit, reaching out for them and the hallway had its own incendiary system that was now sparking to life. Flames embraced the Masters of Sinanju.