“This area is not safe!” Trak said, surrounded by the toxic aftermath of 134 different weapons.
Trak didn’t know if the Captain was organic, Aye, or Mek.
However, he calculated an 84 percent likelihood that, regardless of the captain’s chemical make-up, the present environment would kill him, her, or it.
“You must not allow the Captain to—!”
“The Captain will be fine,” the Tour Guide said. “If you are finished.”
It paused, and said, “You are finished, right?”
“Yes,” Trak said.
“Good. Standby for cleaning.”
Trak’s sensors detected a large Cloud moving down the hallway toward him.
Trak felt the temperature drop.
The interior of the corridor was now lethal to most living things, but certain magma-dwelling creatures would have found it homey, maybe even a little chilly.
The Cloud flew fast, and as it moved it transformed the hallway, returning it to its former shiny glory.
Trak noted the hallway might even be shinier now.
The cloud pulled the smoke and munitions stench out of the air, it ate the sludge that covered every surface, and it lowered the temperature to 72 degrees.
Moving at 60 miles per hour, the swarm passed Trak quickly, pausing long enough to scrub the metal slag from Trak's body. Then it continued down the hallway, cleaning as it flew.
The whole process took 30 seconds. After the repair cloud vanished, there was no sign Trak had unleashed hell in this sparkling corridor.
The clouds here are much more efficient than the one aboard the Afterthought, Trak thought. And these don't attach kitchen appliances to everything.