Warren Murphy: Air Raid

"This is insane," she gasped. "Dr. Schumar died in here, but he was asphyxiated by the C. dioxas. The trees are all dead. They've stopped producing carbon dioxide or ammonia. What does he think he's doing?"

As if in response, a new mechanical sound echoed throughout the greenhouse. When they looked up, they saw the massive fans that were positioned high up on the walls chugging to life. At the same time, thick mist began pouring from a network of twisted cones.

"Mind telling me what that's all about?" Remo asked.

"I told you. It's for the clouds," Amanda explained. "They're part of the artificial-environment program."

Propelled by the fans, the mist was swirling into the center of the ceiling. The sky beyond the glass faded as the cloud cover thickened.

"Okay, this has gotten too creepy even for me," Remo said. "Little Father?"

The Master of Sinanju nodded agreement. Twirling, he faced the closed door. Bony hands appeared from the folds of his kimono, daggerlike fingernails unfolding like desert blooms. With nail edges sharper than titanium glass cutters, Chiun attacked the plastic pane.

To the old man's shock, the surface gave. The glass refused to cut.

Remo was stunned when his teacher's deadly nails left little more than a scratch on the hard veneer. "What is this substance?" Chiun demanded.

"It's a special polymer," Amanda explained. "We needed to create a totally incorruptible environment."

"Anyone else here wish we'd run for the doors when we had the chance?" Remo asked.

The Master of Sinanju's wrinkled face had grown concerned. "Remo, help me," he snapped.

Chiun placed his palms flat against the pane. Remo joined his teacher. The surface of the door felt alien to the touch. Whatever it was made of, it wasn't ordinary plastic. Still, it was on a frame and so should pop free. With a shared nod, the two Masters of Sinanju exerted pressure against the door. The door met them with as much force as they put out. They pushed harder. Still nothing.

"It does not move," Chiun hissed.

"Reverse pressure," Amanda insisted. "The door frame is built to withstand vastly different interior pressures. It's part of our simulation of different atmospheres."

"It extends to the walls, too," Remo said. "They would have buckled otherwise."

"The ceiling's the same," Amanda offered worriedly.

She was eyeing the ceiling as she spoke. Sparks of electricity crackled within the swelling storm clouds. "Lightning?" Remo asked, his voice flat.

"I keep telling you, we had to have a natural environment," Amanda insisted.

Chiun's face was harsh. "There is nothing natural in this chamber of horrors," he spit. Hazel eyes watched the blackening clouds.

There was an overhang above the door at which they were standing. It would protect them from the rain.

"No biggie," Remo said. "A little rain never hurt anyone. Still, we better get out of here before winter sets in. I left my snow pants back home."

Glancing around, Remo's gaze fell on the pile of C. dioxas.

"One battering ram coming up," he said. Ducking out from under the small overhang, he raced back across the greenhouse to the trees.

The biggest trunk was nearly two feet around. Remo dumped it from the pile. With the flat edge of his hand he sheered off the branches and chopped off the top.

As he worked, he watched the clouds from the corner of his eye. Whites and blues flashed like indoor fireworks. He was flipping the bare, eight-foot-long tree trunk into his arms when the first crackling roar sounded above him.

The short hair on his neck and arms shot to immediate attention. An explosion of electricity lit the room. Before the lightning bolt could eat up the inconsequential space between floor and ceiling, Remo was already reacting.

He flipped the trunk in his hands straight up and flung himself to the floor. The bolt sought the tallest object in the room which, a moment before, had been Remo. It slammed the top of the C. dioxa trunk, pounding down into the packed dirt floor. When Remo scrambled to his feet an instant later, the end of the trunk was charred black and smoking.

A squeaky voice called to him from across the greenhouse.

"Remo, stop your tomfoolery!" the Master of Sinanju shouted.

Thunder bellowed too close to be real. The ground beneath Remo shook as if struck by the colossal foot of some gigantic primordial beast.

"I'll tomfool you, you old buzzard," Remo grumbled.

He was grabbing up the log when he noticed something in the dirt near one of the plant beds. With a deeply worried look that had nothing to do with the storm raging above his head, he snatched up the small object and stuffed it in his pocket. He grabbed up the trunk and was heading back for the doors when the first drop of rain fell.

The thick droplet smacked into the blue tree trunk in Remo's bare arms. Unlike normal rain, it hissed. The raindrop spit and smoked, burning his nostrils as he ran. A hole as big around as a quarter burned the log.

"This ain't water," Remo snapped as he rejoined Amanda and Chiun under the overhang.

Amanda examined the hole burned in the trunk. "I think it's acid," she said, fear tripping her voice.

"Acid rain," Remo muttered. "Gotta admire him for sticking with what he knows."

Amanda shook her head. "This can't be," she said to herself.

"Is," Remo said. "And unless you want all of us to be was, you'll get out of the way."

Numbly, Amanda backed to the wall.

Chiun grabbed the smoking end of the log. The two Masters of Sinanju steered the blunt end into the greenhouse door. It struck with a wall-rattling thump. They brought the log back, slamming it into the plastic once more.

Behind them, the rain was opening up. Heavy droplets splattered the ground, fizzing and popping wherever they struck.

Remo and Chiun steered the log at the space where the two doors met. On the third try, Remo thought he felt movement. They brought the trunk back, pounding again and again. The log began to splinter. Blue slivers of bark sheered away, revealing powder-blue pulp.

"It isn't working!" Amanda insisted. She was watching them work, eyes darting now and then out to the greenhouse.

The storm was worsening. Sloppy acid droplets spattered onto the trunks of the felled trees. The wood steamed as holes ate through the tough bark. Amanda jumped when an acid raindrop struck the floor near her foot.

"This roof won't hold if it gets worse," she said, troubled eyes directed up at the small overhang. Remo and Chiun brought the log back, slamming it forward one last time. The room shook and Remo heard a tiny hiss.

"That got it, Little Father," he said.

The Master of Sinanju nodded curtly. As Remo held the log in place, Chiun hurried to the door. The seal had cracked. Chiun attacked the opening. As he pried the space larger, the inner seal inflated to fill it.

"What the crap?" Remo groused. He jammed the end of the log into the space between the doors.

"It is attempting to seal itself," the Master of Sinanju said tightly even as he began assailing the securing lip with his long fingernails.

"That's a special security feature," Amanda explained. "To keep the environment pure."

"You know, lady, I'm getting pretty tired of hearing that," Remo griped. "By the sounds of it, you thought of everything except how to get out of this goldfish bowl."

His words sent a cold shock of memory through her fear-rattled brain. "There's an emergency switch that opens the door!" Amanda announced frantically. "I forgot all about it." She shrank from Remo's glare. "We never needed it in our work," she explained hastily. "I don't think anyone on the team even knew it was there. I only found it when I was studying the greenhouse schematics after Dr. Schumar's death."

"Where?" Remo snapped. He glanced around the door. All he could see was the speaker.