So much to do, she thought with pleasure. And starting in the morning, Skynet would be under her protection. The thought filled her with the closest thing to joy her cold heart could experience.
Then she paused. I am enjoying more success in this time period than any of the previous agents, she thought. But is that because I am more capable … or is it because, unlike them, I am mainly attempting to preserve the “original” sequence of events?
That would not be good enough. The original sequence of events produced Skynet… and its ultimate defeat at the hands of John Connor and the humans.
CYBERDYNE: THE PRESENT
“So thrill me, Ms. Burns,” Tricker said sarcastically. “Tell me how you’re going to make Cyberdyne safe for democracy.”
The cheap round conference table could seat up to ten, but there were only four here today: The president, CEO, Burns, and Tricker. Tricker glanced at Warren, who was nervously tapping the conference table with a pen. The president instantly stopped.
Serena looked at the government liaison with the controlled expression of someone examining the boss’s obnoxious two-year-old set loose in the middle of an important meeting. She glanced at the two nervous executives and smiled reassuringly at them.
Before she answered, Serena let her eyes briefly take in the rest of the room.
Wherever the money went in building this place it sure didn’t go into the decor, she thought. You could tell this was a government operation; billions in, squalor out. The air smelled of concrete and had the faint not-quite-odor of a large-scale recycling unit.
“Well,” she said at last, her voice laced with gentle patience, “I think I should point out that Cyberdyne isn’t a democracy. Like every other successful business, this is a hierarchy.”
She folded her hands in front of her primly.
“But in regard to security, my own personal feeling is that it should be closer to a tyranny than either an oligarchy or a democracy.”
She smiled at the fixed expressions that settled onto the faces of the CEO and president of Cyberdyne. “Obviously that’s impossible,” she said. “Especially when dealing with geniuses and freewheeling engineering types. So what I’ll try to do is exercise as much control as possible without making anyone feel constricted.”
As they listened, Colvin and Warren were already beginning to look less constricted.
“Very nice speech, Ms Burns,” Tricker said after a moment. “Allow me to rephrase the question. Just what do you plan to do to make Cyberdyne safe?”
Serena raised an eyebrow. “I’ll start with the basics. First, I’ll find out just what Cyberdyne is currently doing. Then I’ll draw up a plan of action based on any
improvements I think are necessary. Next I’ll familiarize myself with the company’s personnel records, see if anyone deserves a slightly closer look into their background. Then I’ll interview the more important scientists first, as well as the executives”—she smiled at Warren and Colvin—“to see what sort of personal security they have in place. That, I think, should keep me busy for a while. Once I know more, I’ll be able to tell you more.”
Serena looked directly at Tricker and regaled him with an idiot grin. “I’m sorry I can’t be more specific, but right off the top of my empty blond head, that’s the best I’m willing to do.”
He stared at her for a moment, unsmiling. “Where do you plan to start looking?”
he asked.
“I’m going to check the computers,” she answered promptly. “See to it that there are no modems in unsecured computers. Make sure that the staff all understand the drill on securing their machines, no disks in or out, that sort of thing. I’ll combine it with an introducing-myself-to-the-staff tour. That starts as soon as this meeting is over.”
Colvin cleared his throat; they all looked at him.
“Do you have something for me?” he asked her.
Serena put her attache case on the table and removed a small plastic box, which she slid across to him.
Tricker took it all in with a most interested expression on his face, but held his peace.
Colvin opened the box; Warren leaned close to look into it with him. Then they both visibly relaxed. Tricker’s brow went up; he turned to the 1-950, who returned his inquisitive look with one of bland amusement.
“This,” Colvin said, tapping the box on the table, “represents Miles Dyson’s last work for the company.”
Serena crossed her legs and folded her hands over her flat stomach, all her attention apparently on the CEO. But she caught the look of genuine startlement that flashed across Tricker’s face before his usual sardonic expression returned.
“Ms. Burns brought me a disk that contained a sampler from each of these. But there was plenty there to convince me that this was a valuable resource and that Cyberdyne had to have it.”
Tricker turned to look at Serena. “You blackmailed them into hiring you?”
She gave a delicate little shudder. ” ‘Blackmail’ is such a harsh word,” she said.
“Is there a better one?” he asked, leaning forward, giving the two executives a disgusted look.
Serena considered the ceiling for a moment, then lowered her eyes to his.
“No-o. But then ‘blackmail’ isn’t the right word either.” She straightened up in her seat and faced Tricker directly. “Look, I’m young for this job, and I’m a woman; that’s two strikes against me. I could see who my competition was, and it didn’t take me long to realize that your choice definitely had the inside track.”
She shrugged. “I had an ace and I played it. As far as I’m concerned, anyone who
held that card would have done the same thing.” She tilted her head and widened her blue eyes at him. “Unless you think I should have sent those disks to Dyson’s family?”
“Where exactly did you get them?” Tricker asked. His pose was relaxed, but he was anything but. The government liaison was not pleased that the two executives had held out on him and he wondered just how long they’d known about this. “And how do we know they’re genuine?”
Serena looked at Colvin and Warren instead of answering.
“She bought Dyson’s old house,” Colvin said, “and found the disks hidden there.
I assure you, they are genuine. Not only are they written in Dyson’s style, but they contain information about his work… and ours that couldn’t be obtained from any other source than Dyson himself.”
“The way you guys keep house I’d hate to bet the farm on that.” Tricker sneered.
He turned to Serena. “Ms. Burns, where exactly did you find these.” He gestured to the package in Colvin’s hands.
“In the garage,” she said. She’d found a nice, unobtrusive little cubbyhole up in the rafters that she thought might have been overlooked. “They were tucked away up high.”
Tricker studied! her for a moment. “Am I to understand that you went looking for something like this deliberately?”
“Oh, yes. I’ve worked with scientists and engineers since I got out of college.
They value their work and they like to back it up. Frequently they use little
hiding places for their disks.” She shrugged. “It’s just something that some of them do.”
“Uh-huh.” Tricker let the silence stretch as his cold gaze moved from person to person. “I assume I’ll be receiving copies of these disks?”
“That, of course, is up to the president and CEO,” Serena answered. “If they deem it appropriate, then of course you will.”
If Tricker was startled by her boldness he gave no sign. He resettled himself in his chair, folding his hands on his stomach, and looked at Serena through narrowed eyes. “And what would you have done, Ms. Burns, had Cyberdyne not hired you?”
“Well,” she said brightly, “I had four options. To sell the disks, either to Cyberdyne”—she tipped her head at Colvin and Warren—“or to some other interested party. Or I could have sent them on to Miles Dyson’s family, who certainly
would seem to have a legitimate claim to them, or I could simply have destroyed them.”
“What’s your story?” Tricker turned his cold blue gaze on the executives.
“We were afraid you’d screw it up,” Colvin said evenly.
“Well, that’s flattering.” The government liaison sneered.
“Not very,” Serena said mildly. “But I surmised that without interference you would be the one making the final decision. So I moved to circumvent that. You were unavailable, but I sensed that you’d already made up your mind. So I
approached Mr. Colvin. And here we are.”
There was silence for a moment while they looked at one another; Colvin and Warren regarded the other two warily. Tricker suddenly smacked the table with his hand, making the executives jump.
“The little girl knows how to play hardball!” he said, looking almost pleased.
“She does indeed,” Serena assured him.
“What if I said that I didn’t like the way you do business and told you that we weren’t hiring you after all?” Tricker asked.
“Then I would have badly miscalculated,” the 1-950 replied serenely. “Is that your intention?”
“I’ll have to get back to you on that,” he said with what might have been a smile.
“Take your time,” Serena told him.
OFFICE CDF SERENA BURNS, EXECUTIVE HEAD OF SECURITY: THE PRESENT
WANTED: Assistant head of security at Cyberdyne Systems. Some law-enforcement background preferred. FBI experience ideal. Excellent benefits, pay commensurate with experience. Inquire…
That should reel him in.
Serena had asked for an assistant more to test her muscle than because she
needed one. The meeting had broken up rather inconclusively, with Tricker’s last words hanging in the air like a bad smell. Using what she knew of human psychology, she decided to make demands and spend money, assuming that it would make them reluctant to fire her. At least at first.
She’d already improved the decor of her small office. The new blue carpet was deep-piled and her desk was both better looking and more efficient than its predecessor. The new desk chair was so comfortable that one could sleep in it.
But the original computer was first rate, and she’d kept it. A narrow glass coffee table abutted a small white leather couch along one wall, over which was a painting of blue herons rising from a lake.
The painting was hers. She had bought it because she thought it hinted at vulnerability and femininity. It was always best to keep humans off balance. As for the assistant, if she was going to have one and it wasn’t going to be a Terminator—neither of hers was ready yet, both being rather… raw looking—it might as well be Miles Dyson’s brother.
She’d become aware of him while she was looking into Cyberdyne and the terrorist attack that had destroyed its earlier facility. Intrigued, she’d examined his record at the FBI. It seemed that he had often risked incurring the wrath of his superiors in order to continue to look into his brother’s death.
So she’d hacked into his personal and work computer and examined his files, followed his tracks on the Internet, and had been impressed with what she’d found. Jordan Dyson possessed a single-mindedness that she’d, so far, found to be a rare commodity in humans.
Alone, he’d tracked the Connors south of the border all the way to Brazil. There
the trail had ended. More than one of his contacts had written, with great assurance, that the Connors were dead.
Still, he continued to pursue them.
It was somewhat pointless in a way; bringing Miles’s killers to justice would not restore his brother to life, and his reputation was safe. Miles Dyson had been exonerated in the attack because of his wife’s testimony that she and their son were being held hostage while he led the terrorists to Cyberdyne. The insurance companies were satisfied enough to promptly pay his family a death benefit. As far as the FBI was concerned, the case on Miles Dyson was closed.
And after so many years, with no reported sightings of either of them, the Connors’ files were permanently at the bottom of the pile.
Except for Special Agent Jordan Dyson that is. He still spent a few hours each week trying to find something out about their whereabouts and current activities.
She knew he was aware of Cyberdyne’s new address and its renewed interest in his brother’s work. A dated note on his computer said, “Miles’s project!” He’d checked the advertisement for a head of security several times.
Serena suspected that he thought the reopening of his brother’s project would bring the Connors out of hiding. As do I. And he will be helpful in seeing that they are stopped. Which gives us something in common…
He could be very useful under the right circumstances, which meant directly under her control. Otherwise he could be a loose cannon.
She sent out the ad with the touch of a key. If he didn’t call in the next week or so, she’d contact him. The 1-950 doubted he’d be able to resist the lure of unlimited time to search for his brother’s killers.
WILMINGTON, DELAWARE: THE PRESENT
WANTED: Assistant head of security at Cyberdyne Systems. Some law-enforcement background preferred. FBI experience ideal. Excellent benefits, pay commensurate with experience. Inquire…
Jordan could feel the blood drain from his face. My God, he thought. It’s like they’re looking for me! He leaned back in his chair and stared at the screen.
His compact living room/office was dark except for the small pool of light cast by his desk lamp. Jordan liked it that way; there were fewer distractions. He pushed himself up out of his chair and began to pace rapidly through the shadowed room, rubbing his chin and brushing his hand over his close-clipped hair.
This was perfect, like a call to action, like a message from God even. He stopped, his eyes gazing into a possible future. He saw himself on hand when the murdering Connors were finally captured. He was the one to put the cuffs on the big cop killer who hung out with them.
A pleasant image, but he knew he’d be better off trying to figure out how he could explain his plans to his boss. Ideally he’d get permission to go undercover at Cyberdyne to wait for the Connors and whomever they’d recruited.
Unfortunately that would be a conflict of interest. Besides, everyone at the
Bureau was convinced that the Connors had died in the Brazilian jungle. Their big friend had disappeared even before they hit the border. Whether he was dead or had merely deserted them was unknown.
Whatever. The upshot was that he’d be attempting to convince his superior to allow him to go undercover to wait for people who were considered dead. The Bureau would think he was nuts.
Jordan briefly toyed with the idea of saying he needed time off to get his head together, then taking the Cyberdyne job. He rejected the idea at once. Lying to your supervisor was the best and quickest way he knew to get yourself fired.
That left quitting.
Jordan sat heavily in his armchair, his hand over his eyes. I don’t want to quit!
He loved his job, he liked the people he worked with, he even liked the Bureau and its stodgy, ultra-respectable air. He sighed and dropped his hand.
Leaning his head against the chair back, he looked at the room. Very masculine, with a leather sofa and chairs in dark brown, clunky Mission end tables, and a trunk for a coffee table. He like his apartment, he liked this city. He clutched the heavily padded arms of his chair. I like my job.
But if I work for Cyberdyne I’ll be living near Danny and Tarissa. He’d like to be there for his nephew; twelve was an age when a boy needed a man’s influence.
So. What it comes down to is this: What are you willing to sacrifice to get your brother’s killers?
So far he’d neatly skirted that issue. Oh, he’d gotten himself into trouble, of a
sort. His record at the Bureau was peppered with reprimands for spending too much time on a dead case, or for being involved in it at all, actually. He was considered—le
gitimately—to be too close to the subject of the investigation.
But if I quit and this works out the way I think it will, then there’s a chance I might be able to get myself reinstated—
The phone rang and he grabbed it like a lifeline.
“Dyson,” he said shortly.
Tarissa’s warm chuckle greeted him. “You sound like an old-time detective when you answer the phone like that,” she said.
“Hey, just tryin’ to keep up my G-man image. Wassup, sis?”
There was a pause.
“Everything’s all right?” he asked immediately.
“Nothing’s wrong,” she answered. “But we want to talk to you, Jordan. When can you come out here? We’d like it to be face-to-face.”
“Oh. Uh-huh. That sounds like nothin’s wrong all right.” He thought for a moment. “Danny’s not getting into drugs, is he?”
“Oh, God no!” she said, sounding both amused and disgusted. “He’s fine! It’s about something else entirely.” She waited a moment. “So? When could you… ?”
“I’ll talk to my supervisor tomorrow,” he said. “How urgent is this? Will
Thursday be soon enough?”
“More than soon enough. Thank you, Jordan.”
“No problem. See you Thursday, then.”
“Okay, thanks. Talk to you then.”
He hung up. She’d sounded so nervous at the end. What the hell was that all about? He felt a little worry about Danny, despite Tarissa’s reassurance. He felt energized and wished he could get on a plane right now. Not possible, of course, but the desire burned bright.
But, man, talk about a sign! If he’d been the kind of guy to ask for such a thing, this had to be it.
He sat at his desk and brought up his resume, then sent it off to Cyberdyne with a request for an appointment on Friday. He was about to sign off when the answer came back. Jordan’s jaw dropped.
“An appointment has been made for you with Ms. Serena Burns, executive head of security of Cyberdyne Systems Corporation at three P.M. on Friday the twenty-third.” There were travel instructions to the facility with information about the high-grade security procedures he would have to follow in order to gain access to Cyberdyne.
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