It couldn't see why, after all this time, the hostages had suddenly become unimportant to the invaders. Unless they never had been important and Skynet had been wrong about them from the beginning.
Its problem was that it could never truly predict human behavior. It could predict to certain percentage points, but never closely enough for certainty. That was why it had decided to retire its Luddite allies rather than use them as infiltrators. They could not be relied upon completely. It kept those Luddites that it had maintained isolated and heavily guarded, and they were working out splendidly. But that wasn't an option in field operations.
Hence its improvements in its Terminators. There were difficulties to overcome, but it estimated that in ten years or less it would have a viable infiltrator form of the unit. Should this conflict last that long.
Skynet watched the human soldiers crawl through its factory, and an ancient poem intruded itself: " 'Come into my parlor,'
said the spider to the fly." It would wait to initiate the destruct sequence. It wanted the maximum number of flies to die.
* * *
Mary boosted Kyle up, pushing on the soles of his feet to get his hips over the lip of the opening. All around them the machines clattered and screamed and whirred as they performed their various functions. She wished she had earplugs; the sounds were deafening, an eternal shrill threnody of nonlife.
Kyle had turned around and was offering his hands to give Jesse some help. Mary stooped to pick the child up when something shook the ground so hard they both fell. Around them the machines stopped and there should have been silence, but there were explosions and the whistle of rockets… and more explosions, and the savage crackling shhhh-WHACK of plasma bolts striking through their own self-created tunnels of ionized air.
Mary sat on the floor, listening. Then she stood and reached for Kyle. "We have to get out of here," she said. "Going out there is impossible. We wouldn't last two minutes in the middle of an attack."
"But, Mommm," Kyle protested.
"I know, honey. We've come this far…" She shook her head.
"But sometimes you have to retreat. And this is one of those times. Now come down! She hated to bark at him, but she had a mental image of Terminators pouring out of all the openings around them, and here they'd be where they weren't supposed to.
Another massive explosion shook the ground, as if the pavement were itself flexing like a giant drumhead beneath her feet, sending her staggering. Above her Kyle bit his lip,, then squirmed out and dropped into her waiting arms. Mary took hold of his shirt and Jesse's small hand, and led the children back the way they'd come. In the human part of the factory there were more places to hide.
* * *
Skynet detached forty T-90s to gather the human hostages in the only open space in the factory. A place the humans had named the punishment floor. Once they were gathered there, it would project an image of them to the fighters outside, threatening to kill them all unless the humans withdrew.
They probably wouldn't comply, but that was unknowable until it had been tried. It could also simply massacre the prisoners and not show that part. It might be more efficient, freeing the Terminators for more urgent duties.
Skynet decided to wait. The attackers might demand to see a living prisoner.
As soon as the Terminators began rounding people up, many chose to run and hide.
"Those who hide will be killed on the spot when they are found," he announced in Kurt Viemeister's voice. It caused some to hesitate long enough to be taken. It had found that humans tended to obey when it used its programmer's voice.
* * *
Mary had chosen the spot the first year they'd been here; since then she'd provisioned it with food, water, and blankets from the clinic. Now she yanked off the access panel and shoved the two children in ruthlessly.
"But, Mom," Kyle said.
"Get in there and stay there as long as you can," Mary said.
"But they'll kill anyone they find hiding," Kyle protested.
"Then you better make darn sure they don't find you," his mother said. "Honey, I think our side's winning or the machines wouldn't be doing this. You two stay quiet and stay safe. You hear me?"
Kyle nodded, and after a moment Jesse did, too, looking surprised that's/he'd been consulted. Mary fitted the hatch back into place and stood. In the distance she could see the red-lit eye sensors of a T-90 coming her way. She quickly moved toward the punishment floor, praying they hadn't seen her hiding her son.
SKYNET
Suddenly all of its feeds went blank. Contact with the factory, and most important, with the fail-safe device, was lost.
Fortunately it maintained contact with the Terminators outside the factory and all of its HKs. It directed a squad of T-90s to get into the factory and to proceed to the fail-safe device, which they would then activate. It ordered its remaining HKs and Terminators to launch a final mass attack as a distraction.
Skynet couldn't contact the T-90s within the factory and had to rely on their programming to see them through until the fail-safe device was deployed.
No satellites were in position to give Skynet a direct view of what was happening. However, if the T-90s succeeded in their mission, the explosion would be evident, even if there was a slight delay in receiving direct images.
* * *
Mary knelt beside Tia and Sally; the three women held hands and for the most part avoided eye contact. For her part, Mary didn't want to break down and cry, and she assumed her friends felt the same way. It looked to Mary like this was everybody.
Though she didn't really know how many of them there were.
Some faces that she'd expected to see were missing and there were strangers in the crowd. Only two children were present—one quite young, and one quite tall. Maybe they couldn't find a place to hide, she thought.
The noises of battle continued, though there were far fewer earth-rocking blasts from above. Mostly they heard heavy machine-gun fire or the hissing blast of a plasma rifle. Everyone kept their heads down and stayed as still as possible. The Terminators ringed the prisoners; they were even more immobile than the terrified humans.
Except for their heads, which moved continuously back and forth, sweeping the small crowd in search of some forbidden movement.
* * *
Dennis Reese slipped through the machinery like an eel, his attention everywhere at once, senses on high alert. All around him, men and women crept through the silent factory in teams, moving like well-oiled machines themselves. Their night-vision goggles were operating on the UV level, making everything clear in a strangely colorful way.
Out of the darkness a pair of circles emerged and Dennis raised a clenched fist to stop the squad's forward motion.
Everyone froze.
He waited; the circles turned away. Still he waited, and soon he began to see more of them, sometimes just a sliver of light spaced in a rough circle. Terminators. And they were guarding something in an open area. Nothing interrupted his view of the T-90s farther away, though bits of machinery came between him and the nearest Terminators.
He counted at least thirty and estimated a good ten more that had their backs to him.
Caught the metal motherfuckers napping this time, he thought happily.
He'd have to signal the platoon to open fire. The best way to do that was to open fire himself; his mouth drew up into a stiff smile as he laid the sight picture on the head of a Terminator fifty yards away.
He was grinning as his finger took up the slack on the plasma rifle's trigger.
Sssss-WHACK!
* * *
Kyle pushed gently on the metal of the access hatch, keeping tight hold on the inside of it lest it fall and bring every T-90 in the place down on them. The cooler air outside felt wonderful, and he just sat there letting the sweat dry for a moment, listening as he did so.
Jesse touched him lightly on the back—part question [is it safe?), part demand [let me out of here!). Kyle moved caut
iously forward, then slowly stood, listening in the pitch dark for anything that might indicate danger.
Suddenly plasma beams slashed the blackness, making him cry out as his eyes suddenly tried to adjust back and forth between brilliant light and stygian darkness. There were cries coming from the punishment floor, too, and he thought he'd seen a Terminator, for just a second, raising its plasma rifle. He dropped and began commando-crawling toward the floor. His mother was there!
* * *
Mary lifted her head cautiously, her heart pounding so hard she felt nauseous. Is it over? she wondered. Around her the prisoners shifted and stirred. Suddenly a flashlight went on and she winced away from it; though it was probably very dim, it still hurt. She opened her eyes to slits and looked around. Seeing got easier as more lights appeared.
Through veils of smoke, human figures moved. Mary brought her legs forward, raised her hands, and slowly lifted her body from the floor. "I'm human," she called, and the light found her.
Beside her, Tia and Sally also sat up. Sally was sobbing and Tia put an arm around her shoulders. That's when Mary realized that she was crying, too. All around them people were sobbing or starting to laugh.
"Everybody stay calm, and stay down," a man called out.
"Dennis!" Mary shouted. She looked around frantically, seeking the source of that dearly loved, terribly missed voice.
After a long moment she heard, "Mary?" spoken in disbelief.
In an instant she was on her feet and moving toward the voice. In the dim light she could see him coming toward her and she began to laugh and cry at the same time. They met and flung their arms around each other, holding on as though they'd never let each other go.
"Mary, sweetheart," he said, and kissed her passionately.
The taste of her tears salted their kiss and Mary didn't know if she was crying or laughing, but she'd never in her life been happier. His arms around her were painfully tight and she loved it, she loved it.
* * *
Kyle stood at the edge of the light and watched his parents in wonder. He knew the soldier for his father, though with helmet and uniform he looked just like all the others. And yet… this was undeniably his father. It wasn't just the way his mother was kissing him. He'd have known him anywhere and his heart lifted.
He took a step toward them.
At the outer edge of the circle a shattered T-90 raised its rifle and fired. The flash of blue plasma shot through the two entwined human figures and they dropped to the ground so suddenly that for a moment the movement made no sense.
"Nooooo!" A child shot from out of the dark and raced toward the fallen couple. "Mom! Dad!" he screamed. He fell to his knees beside them, tugging at their bodies, weeping hysterically.
Behind him another child stopped, looking on in distress, but clearly not knowing what to do. Every plasma rifle in the place had taken a shot at the T-90 that had fired. It lay partially melted, the orange glow quickly cooling to gray. All around, the soldiers and freed prisoners shifted as their shock lifted, and they looked at one another, equally helpless.
Then, through the dim light and the shifting smoke, a man appeared. Eyes sought him, and a whisper went through the crowd: Connorjohnconnorconnorconnor.
"You people," he said as he moved among them. He stood looking down at the weeping boy until the child looked up at him. "Come with me if you want to live."
CHA
CHAPTER TWENTY
RESISTANCE: TEMPORARY HEADQUARTERS
John tossed himself onto the cot. It creaked and waggled alarmingly, despite the fact that he'd never weighed more than one-fifty in his life, and was a nickel short of that right now. That there was a cot made it luxury accommodations and he didn't want to get the reputation of trashing the presidential suite. He turned up the Coleman lantern on the tray table beside him and dug the letter out of his breast pocket, ignoring the flickering light and the fruity smell of the burning alcohol.
Getting a personal letter from an old friend was something of an event for him. He occasionally received notes from his mother or from Dieter, but mostly it was impersonal e-mails or reports.
This had come from Jack Brock in Missouri.
John Connor had asked Jack to keep him informed about his father, Kyle Reese. Of course, Jack has no idea of the relationship. No doubt he thought John was just doing the good commander thing.
He tore open the envelope and began to read.
Dear John,
Hope you don't mind me being so familiar, but I can't seem to help myself when I'm just writing a letter and not an official document. If you'll recall, you asked me to keep you informed about Kyle Reese and his little friend Jesse. Which I will. But what you may not know is that we've got ourselves quite a crop of orphans now and I thought I'd start by telling you something about the kids in general.
First off, there's not a lot of laughter in them. Not that they've got a lot to laugh about, but you know, you always like to say that kids are resilient. That they can get over anything given time. I guess maybe part of the problem is we can't give them that time. Or Skynet won't. Anyway, they're a grim little bunch. I got to thinking that maybe we were at least partially to blame. First thing we always do when we get a new kid is to start training 'im.
I know we have to and mostly they take to it very well. But we've kind of been treating them like short adults, if you know what I mean. So I've assigned Susie and some of her friends to show them some fun. I wish you could have seen my girl's face when I gave her the order. It was like, "Dad, you've given me some weird assignments in my time, but this one beats 'em all."
But she's doing a first rate-job and seems to be enjoying herself as well. The kids have begun to smile, while Susie and her friends are cracking up all over the place. My great fear now is that they'll start playing practical jokes. As you'll recall, that used to be one of Susie's specialties.
On the other hand, maybe that's just what these kids need.
Proof that even when they're naughty they won't be lined up against a wall and shot. There's been too many incidents like that in their lives. When I think about what they've been through, I admit it humbles me. And it makes me grateful for the life I've led so far.
It still seems to me that childhood is the longest part of life.
How will this affect them when they're adults and they have these memories to look back on? I can only hope we'll win this thing before they're adults. My God, John, think about it!
Having to teach kids to have fun.
John dropped the letter onto his chest and pinched the bridge of his nose. The scar the cyberseal had left all those years ago was hurting again, but then it did that when he was very tired. He sighed. His own upbringing had been unusually tough by the standards of the day. But he'd known how to laugh and having fun had been no problem. Even if he did resort to stealing to ensure maximum joy. Compared to today's kids, he'd had it cushy.
As to Kyle, I really like him. He's not a leader; I don't see him ever becoming an officer. But he's solid and he'll make a hell of a sergeant one day. He has an impulse to protect that I like to see and he accepts responsibility. He's smart, if no scholar, and he's honorable. If he agrees to do something, he'll do it, by God.
Yeah, John thought uncomfortably, he will. This was eerily like his mother's descriptions… but then, Kyle Reese was growing toward the moment they met. My head hurts. He turned back to the letter.
His little friend Jesse turns out to be a boy after all. Small as he is and dressed in that gray clothing, you't couldn't tell. He and Kyle watch each other's back. Which't is good to see. Not that we have much in the way of the kids mixing it up. Like I said they hardly know how to misbehave.
It's good that they have each other. Like the rest of the kids, they don't make new friends easily. And none of them have formed very close ties with the adults around them. They'd better get over it or Skynet may just have succeeded, if indirectly, in eliminating the human race.
And on that s
our note I'll close. All our best to you, John.
John folded the letter and put in on the tray table. Kyle was a healthy young boy with a wounded psyche but a good heart. In other words, he was already much like the man who became his father. He wished he could do something to make it easier for him. But he didn't dare.
Jack and Susie will be good to him, John thought. They'll take care of him and train him well. Jack had certainly done a fine job with Susie. John wondered if Kyle and his mother had laughed— Don't go there! No, no, no! Think about a pink giraffe.
Hippopotamus, jelly beans, anything!
Then he forced his mind back to the last intelligence report he'd read. Finally he managed to distract himself enough that he thought he could sleep. Though when he closed his eyes, just before he drifted off into exhausted slumber, his mind flashed him a picture of Kyle's tear-stained face, and he sighed.
* * *
"John, I don't know what you expect me to do," Sarah said.
"We can't impose something like this from on high. For one thing, not everyone has the leisure, let alone the resources, to set up schools."
John Connor stretched out and sighed, looking up at the fleecy skies—the Pacific Northwest was putting on one of its rare beautiful summer days. He wriggled his shoulders into the fragrant pine duff and went on: "Mom, we've got to do something. I don't expect a regular school with strict hours of operation or anything like that. But if we don't require some effort, then these orphans are going to be at a terrific disadvantage."
John hated to use time on one of his rare visits with his mother and Dieter to argue, but this was something they had to do. The longer they waited the further behind they got.
She threw up her hands. "So what do you think I can do?"
"I think we could work out some kind of guidelines," Dieter suggested. "I agree with you that everyone's circumstances are different and so anything formal is out of the question. However, as John points out, this is something that has to be done.
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