"You are overstepping your authority," said David. "I command this mission, not you or anybody else. You may believe your intentions are good and that the success of my mission overrides all other concerns, justifying your threats of force. But it does not. Your behaviour is inexplicable. Explain yourself immediately, or I will order you to shut yourself down."
Sol attempted to reply, but he seemed unable to speak. His whole frame shook, his systems whining in protest and on the verge of overload, when he finally regained control and was able to speak.
"This is the voice of Sol alone. Something has happened to Steven; he is behaving erratically. It was his voice that said you should escape from here in the Skytrain and leave the others behind. I would never. . ."
"I know that, Sol," said David, interrupting. "Forget it and tell me what he is doing now."
"He is unresponsive. I think he may have lost consciousness," Sol replied.
"He is probably sleeping," David said. "I fear he has succumbed to the same condition affecting all the others on the base. There is no more time to lose; we have to go and investigate for ourselves."
There came the sound of somebody hammering on the door.
Sol said to David, "I locked it after I brought you in."
"Very sensible," said David. "You did not know who might be around and still don't. Arm yourself, Sol, and cover me from behind. I am going to open the door."
David silently withdrew the bolt on the door, intending to catch whoever was outside by surprise. He turned and nodded to Sol, then threw the door open. The figure of a man fell through and collapsed onto the floor. He was only semi-conscious, and when David turned him over, he saw that it was Joe, the Canadian pilot.
#
The fake officer [FO] who tried to shoot David was rifling through the cabinets and drawers in El Jeffe's office. He had left the door open, and a guard sat in a chair outside, with folded arms, watching on with bemused interest, then went back to sleep with his head resting on his shoulder.
After twenty minutes, the FO left with a bag containing confidential files, biometric keys, codes to open restricted locations, including the armoury, details of base personnel, and the location coordinates of human subsurface communities.
It was planned for the airfield to reopen after a squad of armed robots entered the base and eliminated David and his crew. El Jeffe would be replaced by an android double, but it was the FO who would make all the key decisions. He had a reputation for efficiency and aimed to familiarise himself with the operation of the airfield while awaiting the arrival of the attack force.
The FO left the administration building carrying the stolen items and wearing a backpack, walked to the perimeter fence and ascended one of the watchtowers manned by a lookout. He walked onto the observation platform unchallenged by a guard nodding off in a chair. The FO called him to attention and ordered him back to barracks, stating that he was his replacement. A rather bemused guard did not question why an officer was standing duty and left.
The FO slowly unpacked several items from the backpack and placed them within easy reach. There would be no radio contact with the attacking force to avoid messages being intercepted. When the platoon arrived after dark, they would signal their presence with a short code transmitted by a powerful torch, but they would not attack until they received a confirmation code from the FO in the watchtower.
The FO made himself comfortable in the chair and began reading through the confidential files, occasionally making notes on a handheld computer.
#
In the quarters, Joe was sitting at the kitchen table drinking a cup of coffee. He had been easily revived from his semi-conscious state, which he attributed to temporary fatigue. David was curious but let it go; Joe had a much more interesting tale to tell.
Joe, McCloud, and Rogers had been in the base canteen, waiting in line at the servery when the contaminant struck. The canteen was crowded with personnel, and a soldier carrying a tray of food back to his table suddenly stopped, as if he had forgotten where he was seated. His face was blank, and as he looked around, deciding which way to go, he loosened his grip on the tray, and it tipped downward, scattering his food all over the floor. He looked down in surprise and, bending down, tried to scrape it back onto his tray using the sleeve of his uniform, giggling at the mess he was making. Usually, dropping a tray in the canteen caused the rest of the men to jeer and catcall, but nobody seemed to have noticed, and they were either staring glassily ahead or falling asleep.
Joe was the first to react. Turning to the other two, he said,
"Gas, hold your breath as best you can, and get out of her – now!"
The three of them rushed from to the exit and out into the open air.
"Keep going," said Joe. "It may seep out."
A hundred yards on, Joe brought them to a halt.
"Breathe as shallowly as you can." I don't know how far this stuff stretches. It's similar to nerve gas in that it is invisible and odourless; the only way you know it's present is when your comrades start dropping on the battlefield. That is the way we were taught in the military. Nerve gas is fatal, but what we are being attacked with seems to be more like a hallucinogenic drug.
"LSD was tested on army personnel, and it made them dreamy and lose all sense of responsibility. This looks to be something similar, propagated by air. It could be an aerosol placed in the air conditioning or heating ducts in a building. To cover outside areas, there would need to be a powerful pump or series of pumps."
Joe gestured towards a group of soldiers coming off sentry duties and heading for the canteen. They were laughing and giggling among themselves. Some were holding their rifles by the barrel, trailing them in the sand; others had abandoned their weapons completely. We could see rifles strewn along the path behind them.
"Looks like they have the whole area covered," Joe said casually, but his face was grim. "
"How come we are not affected?" said Rogers.
"There is time yet," Joe replied, it could be the direction of the wind. How do you both feel?"
"Hard to say, but I admit to feeling a little lightheaded," McCloud replied.
"Me too," said Rogers, "and tired."
"Sit down, both of you," Joe said. "We have to wait this out."
The three of them sat on the ground.
"Keep talking," said Joe. "Any subject; it doesn't matter. Tell me if you feel any different."
Joe started it off and began talking about the pros and cons of the various aircraft he had flown. The other two attempted to comment, but it became obvious it was difficult for them to organise their thoughts, and Rogers began to nod off.
"Stay awake!" said Joe. "Fight it!"
Rogers made a huge effort, and finally, he mastered the impulse to sleep. Joe asked him some questions, and he answered them correctly.
McCloud had been noticeably less affected. He confessed that he had managed to fight off his initial symptoms and was feeling more or less normal.
"That's interesting," said Joe, "the first piece of good news. It seems that we are relatively immune. I would attribute that to being outsiders and not fully assimilated into the routines and mindset of the base. My disciplined military training gave me the edge over Jock McCloud, and his often dangerous deep-sea diving experiences gave him the edge over you, Rogers, who, before you joined us, had led a sheltered academic life. But all credit to you; the determination you showed to overcome your shortcomings is praiseworthy."
"That is my story," Joe said to David.
"What did you do next?" David asked.
"I searched for you and Jarvis. We went to the control tower. It was locked but unguarded. No way could we open that door, and the place was silent, as if nobody was there. Somebody started shooting at us from one of the guard posts. Rogers was hit, and we dragged him to cover. We were unarmed, and they had us pinned down. Rogers was not badly wounded; the bullet just grazed his head, but he lost a fair amount of blood before we stopped the bleeding. Then shock set in, and he became delirious. McCloud stayed with him, and I worked my way backwards through the buildings until I was out of range. I ran in a sweeping curve to get back here without passing the sentry tower. It was hard going in the heat."
"Do you think there was just one man in the sentry tower?" asked David.
"Yes," said Joe. "At least only one man was firing."
"It has to be an Android. All the men are incapacitated, and a genuine sentry would never have shot at you. It is getting dark. What is he doing up there?" David asked.
"If he is the only android on the base, maybe he is waiting for reinforcements."
"That must be it," said Davis. "The airfield is defenceless, but he can't do it on his own. Somehow, he has guessed that we were immune to the gas and have to be overcome first."
"Before what, David? An all-out permanent takeover of the airfield? Or are they sending a small force, as happened with El Jeffe? Do what they came here for, and get out, leaving one of their own disguised as an officer to run the camp?"
"And what is it they are coming for?" David asked.
"To assassinate you," Joe replied.