A mile farther on, they turned a comer into a street barricaded with empty vehicles. Before Sarah could react, the Terminator beside her stomped down on the brake pedal, and spun the wheel hard.
"RPG," it said evenly.
Sarah covered her ears and curled into a braced position; a rocket-propelled grenade hit the Humvee's left side, close to the front, exploding noisily as it bounced away. The Hummer's structure and the Terminator beside her absorbed the worst of the blast, but she was still shaken. If the Terminator hadn't acted, that RPG would have plunged straight into her side of the vehicle. She might well be dead already. Behind her, the T-800 manning the gun exchanged fire with enemy forces behind the barricades and in the buildings on either side. The vehicles following her had pulled up at crazy angles, dodging each other when they'd put the brakes on.
They were caught in a crossfire from three directions. The air was filled with the noises of assault rifles, the backblasts of RPG tubes, and the explosions of striking RPGs. Two of the Terminators returned fire from the backs of the Humvees, using their mounted guns. Sarah opened her door, keeping down and looking for a point of cover. Her Humvee had spun slightly less than 180° and now sat at an angle in the street, almost facing the way they'd come. It could give her some cover against fire from the barricades ahead of them, and anything in the buildings where the first RPG had been fired.
She got out, crouching, and opened the door as wide as she could, making a nearly enclosed space between the Hummer and the nearest building wall. A rapid burst of shots came close to her from her left as she made her way to the Humvee's rear. Now or never, she thought, as another rifle burst came her way from a steep angle—someone high in the building above her. Their mistake. She caught the glimpse of a barrel, aimed down on her. In that moment, she found one of the deadliest weapons that she carried: a canister-shaped thermal grenade, improvised from the phased-plasma mechanisms of the guns used by Skynet's war machines. Quickly, she activated the mechanism, and lobbed the device almost vertically up the side of the building, where it entered a smashed-out window and exploded in a ball of searing flame, lighting up the whole sky. The gunfire from that direction ceased.
Standing now, with her back against the Humvee, she counted ten before slamming the door shut, rushing past the vehicle's nose, out into the street, and returning enemy fire from the other side. An answering burst sent her scuttling back behind the Humvee, but she'd seen what she needed: she'd picked out points on roofs and at windows where her enemies were located. She found a hand grenade, and pitched it in a long arc into the top window of a bullet-raddled six-floor building, ducking for cover as it exploded.
Rifle fire came from the barricades ahead of her, but one of the Terminators advanced toward them, blocking most of the rounds. Sarah took a position at the front end of the damaged Humvee—where it had spun around in the street—meeting Cecilia, who crouched beside the next vehicle back, one of their five-ton trucks. Cecilia carried a massive Squad Automatic Weapon, which she used to good effect, blazing away at windows on both sides of the street.
It seemed that they'd wiped out most of their opposition on one side—the left side, as they'd seen it when driving. Little fire now came from there, and return fire from the Terminators silenced what there was. Like Sarah and Cecilia, other human fighters used their vehicles as cover, but the Terminators didn't bother with that. They took positions out in the open, firing without fear, absorbing their punishment from those rounds that struck them.
After twenty minutes of fierce fighting, it was all over. No shots came from any direction. Carefully, taking what cover they could, Sarah, Cecilia, and three other human fighters followed the Terminators who'd marched on the barricade. Two bodies lay facedown in the dust; otherwise, the barricade was deserted. Sarah was satisfied. She knew she'd fought well, as had the other humans in their group: Cecilia, Fiedler, Curtis Suarez, and half a dozen others. They made a good team, but she didn't fool herself—she knew it was the Terminators that made them near-invincible.
"We should check out those buildings," she said to Cecilia. "See if there's any survivors." She expected that most of their attackers had simply run for it, losing as badly as they were, but others must have been killed. It didn't sit well with Sarah, taking human life, but there was little choice when confronted by a deadly ambush.
Cecilia nodded, then gave orders. She seemed completely comfortable leading a force of Terminators. Sarah felt differently. She didn't like them, but she'd grown used to fighting with them, side-by-side, treating them as warriors and comrades, however cold and deadly. She still had nightmares about Terminators—in her dreams, they were her enemies—but she found she could work with them, as she'd had to do in the past.
They checked out the buildings, smashed apart the barricades, and examined their own wounds. No human fighters had suffered more than a few grazes and bruises—from desperately flinging themselves the ground or behind cover. That was unusual, even in these battles against the warlords, but not very unusual. With the Terminators to back them up, they were winning all their battles with minimal casualties. The brief resurgence of the warlords was as good as over. The Terminators found another dozen bodies, and brought back three wounded prisoners—two men, one woman, all in their twenties to look at them. They were hard-faced and tough-looking, but also scrawny and underfed.
"How many of you were there?" Cecilia said in Spanish. "Don't mince words with me—we want the truth, and we want it now."
The Terminators trained guns on the prisoners, and they soon talked. Most of the grunts who fought for the warlords were not especially loyal. Some were simply mercenary. Others had been in places where signing up with organizations such as the Rising Army had been their safest option. Cecilia soon established that there'd been about twenty-five in the ambush. That was most of the active fighters that the leadership of the Sons and the Rising Army had kept to defend the city.
"Where are your leaders now?" Sarah said. Would the Rising Army and the Sons make a stand to defend their HQ, or try to escape the city? Or would they try to hide out in the miles of Asunción's ruined buildings?
"Gone," one of the men said.
"Gone where?"
"I don't know."
"Don't give me that," Cecilia said, sticking her SAW right up close to his face. She towered over him, and there was fear in his eyes. She stepped an inch closer, eyeballing him. "I said I want to know, and I want to know now.
Once they had the likely hiding places for what was left of the warlords, they moved on to check the underground headquarters. They abandoned the damaged Humvee, which had been rendered useless by the RPG blast, but one Terminator tore its 20mm. gun from its mounting. The two Terminators that had been in the Hummer packed into one of the trucks, along with their three prisoners. Sarah took a seat in the remaining Humvee, which she ordered forward to take the front position. No more attempts were made to stop them—there was just some sporadic sniper fire, which had little effect on their vehicles and none on the Terminator that manned the gun on the back of the Humvee.
When they reached the tunnel to the warlords' HQ, they found that it had been collapsed by explosives, probably some hours earlier. Sarah ordered a gang of Terminators to force their way through the wreckage and see what they could find. She wanted to finish this campaign quickly, and return to Colorado.
"It's over," Cecilia said. "We'll root them out, now we're here."
Beside her, Fiedler nodded. He'd fought a good campaign, adapting well to the Terminators, and treating the warlords' fighters with the right mix of toughness and kindness.
"I know," Sarah said. "We're just mopping them up now. We could leave it to the Terminators—they know what we expect by now, how far we're prepared to let them go." She sat on a broken block of concrete lying in the street. "There's something else on my mind."
Cecilia remained standing, but leaned back against the side of a truck. Her SAW bumped on her chest and stomach, where she wor
e it strapped around her. She was truly an Amazon. It was hard to match her with the little girl—and, later, the teenager—that Sarah had known in another world. "What might that be?" she said.
"Well, maybe you can guess that. When this is over, John and I...and Jade...have a tougher campaign ahead of us."
"Uh-huh." Cecilia dropped her voice. "I understand that. Jade wants to return to her world, and you're going to go with her."
"Right."
"What's on your mind about it?"
"The only way we can make a difference is to take a force of Terminators...same deal as here, but the job will be tougher, and the rules will be different. We'll be up against Skynet and its machines, except in a different world, one where they're winning, or they've almost won."
"And?"
"And we'll need some human fighters, too. I want to take the right people...they've got to mean business, and they should have experience in fighting alongside Terminators. I'm asking you to join us on this one...you and some of the others. Are you prepared to do it?"
The Terminators worked methodically, leaving little for Fiedler, Curtis, and the others to do for the moment. What was required was simply the great strength that could shift huge chunks of concrete, brickwork, and stone. It was unlikely they'd find anything when they cleared the tunnel, except perhaps some booby traps. The Terminators would encounter those first.
"Think it over," Sarah said, when Cecilia didn't respond. "I know a lot's been asked of you. I won't press you on it if you've had enough."
"No, it's okay. I don't need to think about it. I thought it might come up—I just didn't pick the time and place where you'd ask me."
"Well, don't feel pressured—"
"Pressured?" The big Argentinean woman laughed. "That's the last thing I'm worried about."
"So?"
"I want to do it, Sarah. Some of the others will feel the same—I'd bet on that. I've lived for this struggle.. .against Skynet, the machines, the warlords. That's what my life has been about. I don't even care if it kills me. I know the struggle goes on in another form, once we're through here. We have a new world to build, and we have entire continents to explore... Still—"
"Count you in?"
"The job is made for me, and I know that someone has to go from this world. Don't you worry about it." She offered her strong hand, and Sarah took it. As the Terminators did their work, smashing masonry aside, Cecilia laughed again. "You can damn well count me in."
FOURTEEN
COLORADO FEBRUARY 28, 2030
Just for once, John felt entitled to some real happiness. It was his birthday, though that didn't mean what it normally would. He'd been born forty-five years before, but he was still only seventeen, biologically. He'd left his own world in late August and arrived here in late July. He'd actually reached seventeen years of experience a few weeks before, and hadn't even realized the significance of the date.
It really was General Connor's forty-fifth birthday, and it was still a symbolic date for John. One of his oldest friends had arrived from Los Angeles the previous day, chancing the Arctic cold, and—best of all—they'd timed this as the day for Sarah to return from South America. With the warlords thoroughly beaten, a group of campaign veterans had come to Colorado, some for the first time. Along with the humans were three Terminators that had weathered the campaign unscathed, and could be used to travel through the time vault.
John waited with Jade, General Connor, Juanita, Danny, and a group of guards with their German shepherd dogs, while others opened the blast doors.
Juanita stood between the General and a much older man—her father, Enrique. This Enrique was totally bald, and shrinking into himself with age, but he still seemed feisty. His coarse, stubbly beard was white, his face lined by decades of care and loss, but he gave a gap-toothed smile, knowing that Sarah was coming.
The three Terminators stepped out first from the olive drab truck that had pulled up in the supply tunnel: a white-haired T-799, and two T-800s of an identical model. These T-800s were in the form of a short man, only about five-foot-five, but powerfully built. Someone had dressed the Terminators in military uniform, though John had heard that they'd simply fought naked in many of the battles in South America—there'd been no point in wasting scarce clothing on them, when they didn't need protection or feel the cold. As the Terminators approached, the dogs barked frantically.
General Connor stepped forward to meet them. "Do you know who I am?"
The nearest Terminator, the T-799 replied, "You are General John Connor."
"That's correct." The General pointed out one of the guards, and said, "Go with this man. He'll accompany you to Level H. Obey any orders he gives you, then wait."
"Affirmative." They headed for the nearest stairs, as a dozen human fighters stepped from the truck, waiting for a minute until the dogs finally calmed down. Though General Connor and the others knew there would be Terminators in this group, the dogs were to ensure that there were none that could not be accounted for—none that had been left behind by Skynet with orders to infiltrate the Resistance. They could never entirely rule that out.
Sarah lingered at the back of the group, with Cecilia Tejada. Both looked confident and fit. They'd cut their hair much shorter than when John had last seem them, adopting similar military styles. It seemed that they'd grown close on the campaign in South America, for they laughed together, sharing a private joke, before following the rest into Level E, with its noisy machinery.
General Connor welcomed several others whom John recognized, including Fiedler, who'd been a guard here until he'd volunteered to take part in the campaign against the warlords. One man whom John hadn't met was Curtis Suarez, though he'd known the Suarez family in his own world. They shook hands, then Sarah and Cecilia stepped forward.
"Happy birthday, John," Cecilia said, addressing the General.
"Welcome back," General Connor said to both of the women. "You ran a flawless operation."
In theory, Cecilia had been in charge of the campaign against the warlords, but everyone knew that she and Sarah had bonded closely, and formed a leadership team. Her skills, together with her charisma as a crossworld counterpart of the legendary mother of the Resistance, had soon won her that kind of respect from other human fighters in South America. "I'm glad I did it," she said. "It was something I needed to do."
John stepped forward to embrace her, and she looked him up and down when they drew apart. "I think you've grown a little."
"I don't know, Mom. Maybe half an inch while you've been away."
"Anyway, happy birthday. I know it's a funny kind of birthday."
"You can say that again. Now, look who's here to see you!"
Sarah looked the old man up and down as he stepped forward, plainly not believing her eyes. "Enrique?" she said tentatively.
"Who else, Connor?" he said. "Who else could get this old and ugly?"
She ran to him, a rare smile lighting her face. "Enrique, it's so good to see you."
They embraced, Sarah almost as tall as him, now that he'd shrunk with age. He gave a loud unselfconscious laugh, almost a yelp of pleasure. "After 2012, I never thought I'd see you again."
"Oh, Enrique—"
"Shhh," he said, and pushed her away. "I understand, you know. I'm quick on the uptake, Connor. I'm not demented, you know." He was still laughing. "I know you're not the same woman—and the sense In which you are. Do I look like I've grown stupid?"
"Maybe just a little," she said, bantering with him.
"It's great to see you, anyway, Connor—you and young John here. It brings back memories."
"When you've had a chance to rest, we have something to show you," General Connor said.
A wary look came over Sarah's face. She stepped over to the General. "This is about the T-1000s?"
"We've reprogrammed one of them," Danny said.
"The one we left in New York?"
"Yup, that's right. Our work went well enough that we flew its ent
ire body over here. Right now there's no problems. We'll bring the other one from Europe when we've got a chance." He must have seen
Sarah's expression, for he added, "You have any problem with that?"
She shook her head slowly. "No, Danny—no, I don't. Not really...but it makes the next step seem more real. Working with T-800s in South America is one thing. Adding T-1000s to the mix—and in a completely different world—that's still a lot to absorb."
"Danny's done an incredible job," Juanita said. "And Jade and John...I mean your son, John." She squeezed the General's hand as she spoke. John didn't bother pointing out that, when you went into it properly, he and the General were both Sarah's son. He guessed that Juanita knew that as well as anyone, and she had to make the distinction somehow. Now John was almost full-grown, the Big John thing for General Connor was even tackier and kind of lame. Even Enrique didn't use that expression, which was what he'd called John as a kid.
"We'll see it soon," Sarah said in a voice that gave nothing away.
They closed the blast door and descended the metal stairs, splitting up to allow Sarah, Cecilia and the others to go to their living quarters. John, General Connor, Jade, Danny, Juanita, and Enrique headed to Level H, where several Resistance fighters stood around the Supercoffin, all of them armed with laser rifles. An alarm system was set up, just in case the T-1000 acted against its programming.
"When's your birthday, Jade?" John said to make some light conversation while they waited for Sarah and Cecilia.
"In September," she said.
"Hey, I missed it! I should have given you something—"
"John, it doesn't really matter. After traveling in time, birthdays are meaningless. So are precise ages."
"Well, I know that." He did know, of course, but the symbolism was nice to share. It hurt him that she couldn't see that.
She smiled indulgently. "I am sorry. I should have said at the time. You could have fussed over me."
T2 - 03 - The New John Connor Chronicles - Times of Trouble Page 20
