Terminator Salvation: Trial by Fire

CHAPTER NINETEEN

“Not too close together,” Preston warned as Half-pint started to set one of the Terminator’s legs down beside the other. “Magnetic reattachment, remember?”

“Oh. Right.” Half-pint took a couple of long steps farther to the side and set down the leg.

Preston looked over the scattering of Terminator pieces spread out on the riverbank. It was an impressive array, all right. Rather like a live-action version of the exploded-machine diagrams from his auto mechanic days.

“So what do we do with all of it?” Half-pint asked.

A movement caught Preston’s eye, and he looked over to see Connor and Halverson coming through the trees, their team lugging pieces of their own wrecked Terminator.

“I think we’re about to find out,” he said.

“Excellent job, Mayor,” Connor said as he and the others arrived at the riverside and dumped their fragments of Terminator onto the grass. “Clean sweep. And the fact that Skynet sent in yours to try to rescue ours means it hasn’t got any other resources in the area. Good news all around.”

“Doesn’t mean it won’t put together another group and send them in,” Halverson warned.

“Life is uncertain,” Connor conceded. “But at the very least we’ve bought ourselves some time. And it’s still possible that Skynet will decide you’re not worth the effort of rooting out. That certainly seems to have been its assessment up until now.”

“Except that things have changed,” Halverson pointed out. “For one thing, we’ve just wrecked four of its Terminators. For another, you’re here.”

“Nothing we can do about the first,” Connor said. “As to the second, I won’t be here for long.”

“What about the base you said you wanted to set up?” Preston asked.

“That’s something I still want to explore,” Connor told him. “But later. When I return, it’ll be with a full Resistance force.”

“Why not just stay here and send for them?” Preston persisted. “Skynet’s probably expecting you to move on. In that case, staying here might be safer”

“We know you’ve got a radio you can call them with,” Hope added, coming up beside Preston. “You’ve been making broadcasts.”

“A small one, yes,” Connor said thoughtfully. “An interesting suggestion, and one I’ll have to think about.” He looked down at the scattered Terminator pieces. “But first we have a lot of junk we need to dispose of. I don’t suppose you have any thermite back in town?”

“We have a pretty decent forge,” Halverson offered.

Connor shook his head.

“I doubt it’ll melt T-700 alloy. Our best bet is probably to dump the pieces into that ravine west of the river.”

“You and Williams already did that,” Preston reminded him. “The machine got out just fine.”

“Only because it was more or less intact,” Connor said. “As long as we make sure to scatter the pieces far enough apart, we shouldn’t have a problem.”

“Well, whatever we’re going to do, let’s do it,” Halverson rumbled, looking up at the sky. “I want to be back in town before it gets dark.”

“Good point.” Connor raised his eyebrows. “Mayor?”

“I guess the ravine’s as good a spot as any,” Preston agreed reluctantly. “Fine. Everyone? We’re heading across the river. Grab something, and let’s go.”

“We don’t need everybody,” Halverson said as the men and women began picking up the dented and scarred pieces of metal. “Connor and I can handle this. You can take whoever we don’t need and head back.”

Preston was used to Halverson throwing his weight around, and he’d more or less become accustomed to it. But doing it in front of John Connor himself was proving far more embarrassing than it usually was.

But until and unless Connor actually brought in his Resistance group—his group, and the food supplies he’d mentioned—Halverson would continue to have all the weight that his expert hunter status gave him.

And in this case he also happened to be right. There was no point in everyone tromping off into the woods if they weren’t needed. There was plenty of other work to be done in town.

“All right,” he said. “But take a few guards along, too. In case you run into something you can’t handle with your arms full.”

“Fine,” Halverson said. He walked away, tagging a few of the armed men and women who weren’t currently hefting a piece of broken Terminator.

“Speaking of which, Mayor,” Connor said, “I wonder if I might borrow that sidearm of yours. The .45 you loaned me is empty.”

Preston looked down at his waist, where Williams’s Desert Eagle was riding snugly in its holster.

“I don’t see why not—”

“We should keep that one with us,” Hope interrupted suddenly. “You’ve still got their shotgun, right. Won’t that do?”

“Hope—” Preston began warningly.

“That’s all right,” Connor soothed. “Actually, she’s right—we have more than enough firepower already.” He smiled at Preston. “We’ll see you back in town. And once again, Mayor, you and the others did a superb job today. You should be very proud.”

“We are,” Preston said, his annoyance at Halverson fading. Whatever points Halverson thought he was scoring with Connor by ordering Preston around, it was clear that Connor was seeing right through it. “Watch yourselves out there.”

“We will,” Connor assured him.

Walking past the line of waiting townspeople, Connor waded into the rushing water.

“Any particular reason you didn’t want me to give him Blair’s gun?” Preston muttered to his daughter.

For a moment she was silent. Preston watched as Connor made it across, followed by Halverson and Half-pint.

“I don’t trust him,” Hope said at last. “Something about him doesn’t seem right.”

Preston looked sideways at her, his reflexive objection dying in his throat. The only person in town, he reminded himself, whose opinion he genuinely trusted.

“In what way?” he asked instead.

“John Connor’s supposed to be some kind of legend, right?” Hope said. “What in the world would someone like that be doing way out here? Especially alone and on foot?”

Preston pursed his lips as an unsettling thought suddenly occurred to him.

“Unless this is all there actually is to the man.”

Hope frowned. “You mean like maybe the Resistance doesn’t exist?”

“No, I’m pretty sure the Resistance exists,” Preston said. “But maybe Connor himself is nothing but smoke and mirrors. Just some high-sounding broadcasts and a bizarre itinerant preacher game.”

The team’s rear guard was crossing the river, and the people who’d been left behind were heading down the trail toward town before Hope spoke again.

“In that case, why would Barnes and Blair say they work with Connor?” she asked. “Unless they’re lying. There has to be a real John Connor out there, a John Connor who really is the big Resistance leader he claims to be.”

“So someone’s lying,” Preston concluded. “Of course, we knew that two hours ago. The question is who?”

“I think it’s Jik,” Hope said firmly. “I don’t think he’s John Connor at all.”

Across the river, the last of the townspeople disappeared into the woods.

“Could be,” Preston said. “Fortunately, thanks to Halverson, you and I now have a bit of time to explore that very theory.”

He picked up the backpack they’d taken from Barnes and slung one of its straps onto his shoulder. With most of its ammo magazines now with Jik and Halverson, it was considerably lighter than it had been.

“Let’s head home. I feel like a long, serious conversation.”

* * *

“Well?” Barnes asked from his end of the couch.

Blair consulted her watch. Since the last sounds of distant gunfire had died away... “About half an hour,” she told him.

Barnes grunted. “Means they got ‘em.”

“What do you mean?” Smith asked anxiously from his guard post by the window. “Who got who?”

“I mean they nailed the machines,” Barnes told him. “If they hadn’t, you’d still hear shots every once in awhile from survivors trying to get away.”

Smith exhaled heavily. “Thank God,” he muttered.

Blair looked sideways at the two men, both of them visibly relaxing with Barnes’s news. The other possibility, unfortunately, was that there was no survivors’ gunfire because there were no survivors.

But there was no point in bringing that up. If it was bad news, they’d find out soon enough.

“So who do you think he is?” Barnes asked.

Blair made a face. She’d been poking at the whole Jik question ever since Preston had stuck them in here, under armed guard.

“My guess is he’s a con man,” she said.

“Looking for what?”

“Here and now?” Blair shrugged. “Food and shelter would be a decent enough reward for any scammer these days.”

“Mm,” Barnes said.

Blair eyed him. “You’re not convinced.”

“You might be right,” he said. “Probably are. You like their story about Marcus?”

Blair felt her throat constrict. Was Barnes going to throw that name in her face for the rest of her life?

“I don’t see—”

“Because I don’t,” he cut her off gruffly. “There’s something about it that doesn’t add up.”

She frowned at him, her reflexive reaction fading away as she belatedly noticed the concentration on his face. For once, he wasn’t simply trying to goad her.

And he was right, she realized. There’d been something about the scientists’ description of the Theta Project that seemed a little off.

“I agree,” she said. “Any idea what it is?”

“For one thing, they were pretty damn casual about the whole thing,” he said. “You saw them.”

“They wouldn’t be the first people to lose their consciences.”

“Yeah, but—” Barnes shook his head. “I don’t know. Forget it.”

And then, abruptly, Blair had it.

“No, don’t forget it,” she said, her breath tight in her throat. “You’re right. Damn it.”

“What?” Barnes demanded.

“They said Marcus was a prototype,” Blair said, her mind racing as she tried to make something coherent out of the sudden updraft of thoughts and suspicions swirling through her head. “Remember?”

“Yeah,” Barnes said, watching her closely. “So?”

“So Marcus had a mission,” Blair said. “He was trying to lure Connor into Skynet Central where the machines could kill him.”

Barnes grunted. “Did a damn good job of it, too.”

“Which is exactly my point,” Blair said. “Prototypes don’t get sent on missions. Prototypes don’t get used for anything. They’re built purely to test out the systems, or to experiment on in the lab, or even just see how the specs look in solid form.”

“Unless he was all Skynet had left after it blew up the lab,” Barnes suggested.

“And it managed to program the mission into his chip and get him in position to survive the explosion, all on the fly?” Blair countered. “Because the way Connor described it, the start-to-finish window on that mission was pretty damn short.”

“So if Marcus wasn’t the prototype, what would the prototype have looked like?”

Blair shook her head. “Like I said, its only purpose would have been for study. To show how the interfaces worked, how the living organs handled their job—that sort of thing.”

“So if it had a wrecked face, no one would care.”

Blair looked sharply at him.

“The Theta that attacked Jik,” she said. “Are you saying that was the real prototype?”

“Or maybe a couple of steps down the line,” Barnes said. “So once you got all the insides working, what would be next?”

Blair studied his face. His tone and expression said he was going somewhere with this. But where?

“You tell me.”

Barnes shot a glance at Smith and Trounce, who were leaning forward as they listened intently to the conversation.

“These Thetas are Skynet’s new infiltration units, right?” Barnes said. “I mean, why else bother?”

“They’re definitely a step up from T-600s and rubber skin,” Blair agreed. “A little on the risky side, though. You saw how Marcus was able to break Skynet’s programming.”

“Yeah, maybe,” Barnes said with a grunt. “What I was thinking was that once Skynet got their bodies looking right, it would have to bring their brains in line, too. That means...” He stopped, eyeing her expectantly.

And then, suddenly, she understood. “False memories,” she bit out. “That’s what Jik is. He’s a Theta.” She glared at Barnes. “You figured that out, and you didn’t say something?”

“Hey, I didn’t get it until you were in the middle of your big prototype speech,” Barnes protested. “And we both should have gotten it a lot sooner anyway. Remember when we crossed the river and he got tangled up in that loose T-700 arm?”

Blair felt a shiver run through her as she recalled, “He didn’t just get tangled. The arm’s reconnection magnet grabbed him, just like that mine at the base got Marcus.”

“That’s what I’m thinking,” Barnes said. “Don’t know why he didn’t just kill us once we saw that. Probably figured we were too stupid to notice.”

“Or he genuinely doesn’t know what he is,” Blair pointed out. “Marcus didn’t.” She looked over at Smith and Trounce. “That also explains a few other things.”

“Like?” Barnes asked.

“For starters, why Baker’s Hollow is still here,” she said. “This town—these people—are Jik’s test run. His own—” She smiled faintly at Barnes as a piece of last night’s conversation flickered up from her memory. “Skynet’s own trial by fire.”

“What are you talking about?” Smith asked.

“Don’t listen to them,” Trounce growled. “We’re still here because we’re smart and tough. A hell of a lot smarter and tougher than the city pansies they’re used to.”

“Are you?” Blair countered. “Three scientists working for Skynet drop in out of the blue and just happen to stumble onto your town. They say they’ve been working for Skynet, yet Skynet never comes looking for them. They settle down, get to know the people, let the people get to know them... and then, a couple of months later, this stranger Jik comes wandering into town.”

“And they sit back and take notes and see how all the rest of you react to him,” Barnes said. “See if you can spot a Theta when it’s staring right back into your face.”

“That’s crazy,” Trounce insisted. “Connor said one of those hybrid things attacked him. Why would it do that if they were both on the same team?”

“Because it’s no use seeing if people can pick a Theta out of a crowd if they don’t know Thetas even exist,” Blair said.

“Right,” Barnes agreed. “They’re infiltration units. They have to be able to pass for human in front of people who know they’re out there.”

Blair shivered, her mind flashing back over the long, dark years. Skynet hadn’t started its war that way. For a long time it had relied on massive, brute-force firepower to take out the survivors of the Judgment Day nukes. But as the Resistance had gotten organized and hardened, it had gradually shifted its focus from T-1 tanks and H-Ks to the subtler but ultimately more effective tactic of infiltration.

The T-600s had been the first, and they’d been bad enough. It was unnerving to see a stranger coming toward you down a dark street, knowing you wouldn’t be able to tell whether it was human or machine until it was well within killing distance.

But a Terminator who could walk right up to you without betraying its identity was far worse. If Skynet ever got Thetas into full production it might well be the beginning of the end for the Resistance.

And the end of the Resistance would be the end of humanity.

“Let me get this straight,” Smith said. “So Connor shoots up—”

“He’s not Connor,” Barnes cut him off.

“Whoever,” Smith said impatiently. “So him shooting up a Theta is proof he’s one of them. But you two shooting up a couple of T-700s is proof you’re not?”

“You want proof?” Barnes asked. “No problem. You got any magnets in town?”

Smith and Trounce exchanged looks.

“Maybe,” Smith said cautiously. “Why?”

“You heard what we said about Jik getting tangled up at the ford,” Barnes said. “There’s some magnetic metal in Terminator endoskeletons. All you need to do is get a magnet and run it over him.”

“Just make sure you have your guns ready,” Blair warned. “And don’t let Lajard and the others get away, either.”

Smith shook his head. “You two are certifiable,” he said sadly.

“Forget it,” Barnes growled. “Maybe Preston will listen to reason.”

Smith angled his head backwards, peering out the side of the window.

“We’ll find out soon enough,” he said. “Here he comes now.”

Hope hadn’t seen Susan and the other two scientists since her father and Jik had rushed everyone over to Annabel’s house and started collecting and preparing the equipment for their attack on the T-700s. Knowing Susan, Hope expected her to be waiting when she and her father arrived back in town.

Sure enough, there she was, standing by one of the trees and picking restlessly at its bark.

What Hope hadn’t expected was that Lajard and Oxley would be with her.

“So it’s done?” Lajard demanded as the two Prestons came into sight. “You’ve destroyed them?”

“That’s right, we did,” Preston said. “Which you could have found out from any of the others who just came through here.”

“Yes, well, none of the others seem all that excited about talking to us right now,” Oxley growled. “Like this was our fault.”

Hope looked sideways at her father, wondering if he would point out that it was at least partly their fault. Willingly or not, the three of them had worked for Skynet.

But as usual, her father was diplomatic.

“That’ll pass,” he said instead. “We got both Terminators, and no one got hurt. It’s over.”

Lajard hissed. “Right. No one got hurt except a couple of valuable machines that weren’t bothering anyone.”

“Give it a rest, Remy,” Oxley said sourly. “And it’s not exactly over yet. We still have to decide what to do with Barnes and Williams.”

“We’re going to let them go, aren’t we?” Hope asked.

“That’s up to Connor,” Oxley told her. “He’s the one they seem out to get.” He looked at Lajard. “And since Connor’s the one who came up with the plan to take down the T-700s, I’d say he’s proved his credentials.”

Again, Hope looked at her father. Again, he passed up the obvious comment.

“We can discuss it when he gets back,” he said. “In the meantime, Hope and I need to go home and clean up.”

“Actually,” Susan spoke up hesitantly, “I was wondering if I could borrow Hope for a while.”

“What for?” Preston asked, frowning.

“What else?” Susan bent over and lifted her bow and a quiver of arrows. “Someone needs to keep the food coming. With everyone else busy with the Terminators, I thought she and I could see if we could find some game.”

“That’s very generous of you,” Preston said. “But we should have enough food in town to handle a night or two.”

“I’m not so sure,” Oxley warned. “I was talking to Vic earlier, and he said the cupboard’s looking pretty bare.”

“If I can’t have Hope, can I go out alone?” Susan persisted. “I’d like to do something today to earn my keep.”

Preston looked at Hope. “What do you think?”

Hope hesitated. The Terminator battle had left her pretty worn out, emotionally as well as physically. On top of that, she really wanted to be there when her father talked with Blair and Barnes.

But the forlorn, desperately eager look on Susan’s face was impossible to ignore.

“It’s okay,” she said, suppressing a sigh. “I’ll go with her.”

Her father looked at Susan, then reluctantly nodded.

“All right,” he said. “But I don’t want you going any farther than Crescent Rock. Clear?”

“Clear,” she confirmed.

“Get going, then,” he said. “And be careful.”

“Don’t worry, she’ll be fine,” Susan promised. She gave Hope a tentative smile. “We’ll both be just fine.”