"I waited until the base had settled into its nightly rhythm—lights dimmed, crews in quarters. I had been shocked at first by the lack of security, but after decades and more of apparent non-detection, the lapse was understandable.
I chose Joe to accompany me: Lena, he had the most experience dealing directly with the machines and their systems analyst, a knack for bypassing security protocols and a deep distrust of anything that smiled too easily.
We moved through the service corridors beneath the mess hall, following El Jeffe's map. The biometric key pulsed faintly in my palm, and Joe carried a compact scanner, tuned to detect AI surveillance nodes. So far, it had remained silent.
The entrance was hidden behind a false panel in the old control tower's basement—a relic of the original resistance. I pressed the key into the slot. A soft click. Then a hiss of decompression.
The door slid open.
Inside was a narrow shaft, lined with rusted metal and old insulation. A ladder descended into darkness. I went first.
We dropped into a chamber that smelt of ozone and dust. The walls were lined with what I first assumed to be stasis pods—twelve in total—each one humming faintly, bathed in pale blue light.
Joe explained that they were 'immobilisation capsules'; he had seen them before in human prisons run by machines. Each capsule was a transparent cylindrical tube, roughly coffin-sized, made from reinforced polymer rather than the sleek alloy of proper stasis chambers.
Inside, a viscous gel-like substance filled the lower half - not the precisely calibrated bio-suspension fluid of true stasis, but a thick, oxygen-rich medium that slowed metabolic processes and restricted movement. The prisoner is floating semi-submerged, his body weighted down by the gel's density, unable to gain purchase or leverage to struggle.
"This is horrific," I said. "It is like a torture chamber."
"I agree." Said Joe, "The machines lack empathy or compassion, but it is not quite as bad as it appears. See that device wrapped around the neck? It is a neural suppression collar that emits low-frequency pulses that don't quite induce unconsciousness but create a thick, dreamlike fog. The prisoner remains dimly aware but unable to coordinate voluntary movement or coherent thought."
"But his eyes are open, and he is following my movements," I said.
"Instinct," said Joe. The tracking is without recognition or purpose."
The breathing tubes you can see in the nostrils are crude compared to the integrated systems of proper stasis pods. Life support systems maintain minimum oxygen levels and regulate temperature, and the monitoring screen on the top shows basic vitals: heart rate, oxygen saturation, and neural activity – all maintained at minimal sustainable levels. It's imprisonment masquerading as preservation – keeping humans alive and compliant without the sophistication or care of genuine medical technology."
"How do we get them out?" I asked. "I feel like we are in a tomb."
"First, we find the processing centre and disable the protocol. It won't be down here. It needs access to a bigger energy source. Then we come back," said Joe.
I wasn't about to argue. I could not wait to get out of there.
We climbed back into the shaft, sealing the door behind us as we headed back to our quarters.
The others let out a collective sigh of relief as we opened the door and came in.
"Good to see you back," said Jarvis. "How did you get on?"
We gave them a full account of what had happened, and at the end came the predictable question from Jock.
"How do we locate the processing centre?"
"I would guess that it is somewhere in the control tower," said Joe. "I could be wrong, but it is the most logical place. The elevated location would give a better reception for the radio signals from their central command base, which contains the continuous flow of data needed to upgrade and convert their energy source here to power the hibernation pods. Once the link is established, it is an automatic process that runs without supervision."
"That is a big plus for us," said Jarvis. "The control tower is probably unmanned most of the time, certainly at night."
"We do not have time for a preliminary recce." I said, "We have to move on the assumption that Joe is right. I presume you know how to switch off the power to the pods without triggering an alarm, Joe?"
"Affirmative. We broke out our captured resistance personnel in similar circumstances in the other world."
"Good. We will work on a plan, but first, we all need some sleep. You stay on guard, Sol, and barring any emergencies, let us sleep for five hours, then wake us."
#
Jarvis and I watched the morning drills on a parade square a hundred yards from where Joe, with Sol assisting, was servicing the gun ports on the Hurricane. Further away, Jock and Rogers were making a great show of doing a propeller alignment on the Skytrain. The idea was to make it look as if we were preparing for departure the next day. Rows of trainees marched and wheeled under the command of a drill sergeant as they moved in sync across the tarmac. They had the features of native Argentinians, but their skin tone was pale, almost white, after generations of living underground.
Roberto approached from behind, his boots echoing on the tarmac. He wore his usual smile—warm, practised, and just shy of human.
"Ah, David," he said, voice smooth. "I was hoping to find you here. Enjoying the view?"
"Impressive coordination. Your training methods must be very effective." I said
"Yes. Efficiency is our hallmark. Though I must admit, I've been wondering about your own methods. You and your crew seem… restless."
I shrugged. "We're used to movement. Static bases make us twitchy."
I noticed the lights in your quarters were on remarkably early this morning.
"We were reviewing flight data. Preparing for departure."
Roberto nodded, but his eyes didn't blink. "Of course. Though I do hope you're not planning to leave too soon. El Jeffe would be heartbroken. He's grown quite fond of you."
I smiled thinly. "We may stay a little longer. I think there is more to learn from El Jeffe."
"Indeed," Roberto said, stepping closer. "And much to reveal."
There was a pause. Just long enough to register the shift in tone.
I held his gaze. "We're here to refuel and observe. Nothing more."
"Mm," Roberto murmured. "Observation is a dangerous habit. It leads to questions. And questions lead to… consequences."
He turned to leave, then paused.
"El Jeffe is unwell," he said.
"He won't be receiving visitors today. I suggest you focus on your departure. The weather window closes soon. We are entering the sandstorm season. They can be severe at this time of the year."
With that, he was gone.
Jarvis leaned in. "He's watching everything."
I nodded. "Then we move tonight. We disable the purge protocol. And we get those officers out."