Warren Murphy: The Wrong Stuff

The CURE director couldn't mask his surprise. Although lesser known than Neil Armstrong or Alan Shepard, NASA's current administrator was one of the pioneers of the early space program.

"You wouldn't be surprised if you ever met him, Smitty," Remo said. "By the sounds of it, that blowhard would get in bed with an invading army of mankind-enslaving space ants just to keep that flapdoodle agency of his afloat. And speaking of stuff NASA does to piss me off, just how the hell did they manage to get Gordons out of that volcano, anyway?"

"They were testing a new piece of equipment in Popocatepetl," Smith explained. "Gordons assimilated it."

"Swell," Remo muttered. "I guess that explains why he thinks his family rescued him. As far as the here and now goes, your guess is as good as mine where he winds up. If he stays with the guys who snagged him, they're probably on their way back to NASA."

Smith pursed his lips. "Did Gordons actually say to you that he felt it was his family who rescued him?"

"Yeah, why?"

"Mr. Gordons has always gone to great lengths to mimic human behavior," the CURE director said. "He has had varying degrees of success, but his attempts have been consistent. For most people the family environment means safety. If he truly considers NASA to be his family, and continues the pattern, it is likely he will go there at a time of crisis."

"I suppose," Remo said.

Smith sat forward, pointing to the door. "I will have Mark arrange a flight from Maine to Florida for you."

Howard nodded sharply at the command. He dashed from the room to make the arrangements from his own office.

As the door swung shut, Smith's face grew somber. "Remo, the technology Gordons has incorporated into his system from the Virgil probe is more advanced than anything else he has ever assimilated," the CURE director advised. "Just because he looks as he once did, do not assume him to be obsolete. I implore you and Chiun to use the utmost caution against him."

"Not to worry, Smitty," Remo said. "We know what we're up against. Let's just hope he ran back to the warm embrace of his loving family." His voice grew cold. "But even if he didn't, I'm gonna enjoy paying a visit to his old Uncle Zipp."

Chapter 27

At an order from on high, the Kennedy Space Center was closed to outsiders until further notice. No guests or tours were allowed either on grounds or in lockeddown buildings. Most of the civilian staff had been given the day off.

A lone space cadet guarded the main entrance. When Dr. Peter Graham and Clark Beemer raced up the road, the sentry waved their van through, quickly calling ahead. By the time Graham squealed to a stop near the command center, Zipp Codwin was already waiting near the door. The NASA administrator was accompanied by a phalanx of armed men.

"Is Gordons okay?" Codwin barked as the two exhausted men climbed down from the cab.

The clipped metallic voice that answered was so close the colonel nearly jumped out of his startled skin.

"I have completed repairs to my damaged systems."

When Codwin whipped around, he found Mr. Gordons standing at the side of the van.

"Oh," Zipp said, trying not to show his surprise. "Good. No, wait a second, you were damaged?"

"Yes," Gordons explained. "In an encounter with my enemies. I was assisted by a novelist in my effort to remove them. I devised a method of attack based on story elements that I found on his computer hard drive. I suspect he was not very creative, for my enemies failed to succumb. As a result of this unsuccessful effort, they now know that I exist. They will come for me. Therefore, I must go."

With that, Mr. Gordons turned and began walking away.

"Whoa, there, son," Codwin said, jumping around him. He bounced along in front of the walking android. "We went through this already. You were gonna let us help you out."

"The element of surprise is now gone," Gordons said. "I trusted another human to aid me, and he failed. At this juncture another such alliance would pose an unacceptable risk to my safety."

"But you were with us first," Codwin argued. "And since you left, I've given your problem some thought. I think we can help you get rid of those guys once and for all."

When Gordons abruptly stopped walking, Colonel Codwin knew he had the android on the ropes. Gordons said nothing.

"All the resources of the National Aeronautics and Space Administration have been put at your disposal," Zipp said slyly. "We saved your bacon without even trying a couple of times. Doesn't it make sense that with a little effort we'd be able to solve this little problem of yours?"

Gordons considered. "They are unlike any humans you have met before," he said.

"And we're unlike anything they've ever met before," said Zipp Codwin. Throwing back his shoulders proudly, he drew himself up to his full height. "We are the goddamnedest sons-of-bitches explorers to ever trod the surface of this benighted rock. We conquered space, for God's sake! And if you need more proof, we're the ones who built you, sonny boy." He tapped a finger against Gordons's metal chest. "And you're the finest, most beautiful durnblasted hunk of technology ever to threaten the human race in the name of old-fashioned exploration." His eyes were growing moist. "Oh, God, you got me blubbering here," he sniffed.

The colonel pulled out a handkerchief, blowing a massive honk of pride into the finest taxpayersupplied silk.

As Codwin blew, Mr. Gordons came to a conclusion.

"Very well," the android said. "I will accept your assistance. However, if you fail I will skin you alive while simultaneously crushing every bone in your body. I say this to help motivate you to succeed. I have found that humans perform better with proper motivation."

Pirouetting on his heel, Mr. Gordons marched in a direct line back for the building. Beemer, Graham and the group of armed men had to jump out of his way. Still standing in the parking lot, Colonel Codwin sniffled proudly as he considered Gordons's threat.

"Danged if you ain't a man after this old flyboy's heart," he choked out softly.

Blowing his nose loudly once more, Zipp and his entourage followed Mr. Gordons inside the building.

Chapter 28

Remo knew something was amiss when the first guard they encountered on their way into the Kennedy Space Center jumped into a golf cart and sped down the empty road before them.

"Codwin's great at setting a trap," he said blandly as they followed the racing cart along NASA Parkway onto the grounds of the space center. "I'm surprised he didn't balance a box on a stick over the whole damn place."

The driver of the cart was dressed in the same white jumpsuit and domed helmet as the men from Maine. As they drove, Chiun was peering at the back of the cart.

"It's not Gordons, Little Father," Remo said. "He didn't move funny enough when he ran."

"Have you forgotten the lesson of Master Shiko so soon?" Chiun asked dully. He continued to stare ahead. "Do not be certain of everything you are told to see. I was not looking at the driver."

Remo nodded understanding. That was the problem with Mr. Gordons. He could literally be anything. A lamp, a desk, a chair. Even a golf cart.

They lost sight of the cart as it whipped around the side of a huge hangar off Kennedy Parkway. When they drove around the corner a moment later they found that the cart had been abandoned in the center of a vast stretch of asphalt near the orbiter processing facility.

Remo parked their rental car behind it.

"Be careful," he warned as he popped the door. Chiun's curt nod held the same warning.

They climbed out of car. Circling to the front, they closed around to either side of the cart.

Remo watched the sides for any small irregularities. A sudden tiny eruption could warn of another spear-tipped spider leg being launched their way. But as they circled the small vehicle, they saw nothing out of the ordinary.