Infiltrator t2-1

by S. M. Stirling

  “And just what do you think that you are doing? Staring at Senor von Rossbach like some puta! What would your mother say?”

  “I wasn’t!” Elsa protested. “I was only washing the window!”

  “Don’t talk back!” her aunt said, shaking a finger. “I was watching you for five minutes,” she lied. Then she imitated her totally hypnotized niece wiping one pane of glass over and over. “That is how you looked, you silly girl! Like a fish!”

  Elsa giggled. “I can’t help it, Auntie!” She leaned in close to Marieta and whispered, “He is so handsome.”

  Her aunt let out a huff of breath. “Go dust and vacuum in the library,” she said.

  “And try to be finished by suppertime! Vamos!”

  Elsa started to walk off, glancing into the office as she went by. Her aunt clapped her hands sharply and the walk turned to a run. Shaking her head, Marieta went into von Rossbach’s office to finish up. She picked up the cloth and went to the window. She was starting to scrub when a flash of motion caught her eye.

  Senor von Rossbach had just thrown a knife and was straightening up, studying the knife quivering in the target.

  Oh, my God! she thought. No wonder poor Elsa was so fascinated. Marieta found that she, too, was rubbing the same square of glass for an inordinately long time and she laughed silently. It seemed she owed Elsa an apology. If an old woman like her couldn’t keep her eyes where they belonged what hope did a girl of nineteen have?

  Dieter turned from gathering his knives from the target and grinned at her. He came directly to the office.

  “Thank you for rescuing me,” he said. “I didn’t dare come in while your niece was here.”

  Marieta laughed. “She’d have had a stroke, the silly thing.” She wiped down another pane. “Shouldn’t you be getting ready?”

  Dieter glanced at the clock: noon already. He was supposed to be at the asado by two and it was over an hour’s drive. ” Si,” he said. “Thanks for reminding me.”

  “Mom, you look great.”

  Sarah tugged at the pale blue belt and grimaced.

  “White was probably a bad color choice,” she grumbled.

  “White linen is always a good choice,” her son insisted.

  The dress was actually quite attractive, short-sleeved and tailored, with lace cutouts at the shoulders and hem. But she couldn’t get over the feeling that whatever she wore would be wrong. She sighed. Once she’d enjoyed dressing up, putting on makeup and high heels. Now she only felt conspicuous. She wished for John’s sake she could just calm down, but it was hard.

  “Can I drive?” he asked.

  “No,” she said shortly, picking up her sunglasses.

  “Please?” John made puppy eyes at his mother.

  She smiled and turned her head away at the same time.

  “No fair!” she said. “Don’t look at me like that.”

  “Please, Mom? Please can I drive, please, please?” He moved around her, trying to catch her eye while she laughed helplessly.

  “No!” she insisted. “John, I’m nervous enough as it is without you behind the wheel.”

  “Well, I like that!” he said in mock outrage. “Who was it said we should get me a license?”

  She grabbed him by the back of the neck and pulled him to her, leaning her forehead against his as she said, “Maybe I’ll let you drive us home. How would that be?”

  He snorted. “Adequate,” he said dismissively.

  “Then again,” she said, “maybe I won’t.” She picked up her bag and headed for the door, a little startled at the unfamiliar sound of her high heels clicking on the tile.

  “Aw, Mom!”

  “No whining!” she said.

  “I’ll treat you like a queen? I’ll stay by your side for the first half hour? I’ll muck out Linda’s stall for the rest of the week.”

  Sarah leaned towards him. “John, that’s your job for the rest of the summer.”

  “Since when?” He joined her on the portal.

  “You’re getting older,” she said, locking the front door. “It’s time you learned responsibility.”

  “Okay,” he grumbled. “I ride Linda more in the summer than you do anyway.”

  She turned at the bottom of the steps and tossed him the keys.

  “You drive,” she said. “Don’t make me want to close my eyes.”

  Obviously Sarah couldn’t wear dark glasses when she was trying to meet people; the horn-rims would have to do. So far this wasn’t the trial she’d feared it would be. John had stuck to his word and to her side for the first half hour, then with a wink he’d gone off with Luis and Consuela, Luis’s newly noticeable little sister.

  Sarah gulped a little, hanging back under the arched stone colonnade that rimmed the courtyard, half-concealed by hanging pots of bougainvillea. Grit your teeth and mingle, she told herself.

  Senor and Senora Salcido had been going out of their way to make her feel welcome. Apparently Luis had been talking up John. Little by little she relaxed, all the while wondering at how a genteel barbecue could traumatize someone who’d spent a third of her life hobnobbing with cutthroats and mercenaries from one end of the Americas to the other.

  She remembered an old movie with Peter Ustinov. He had a line that went something like, “Wouldn’t you know it. Here we are, desperate criminals, and we’ve fallen in with nice people.”

  Sarah accepted another tiny delicacy at Senora Salcido’s gracious insistence.

  When can I leave? she thought desperately.

  There was a stir at the entrance to the courtyard and heads began to turn.

  “Oh!” Senora Salcido looked pleased. “It is our newest neighbor. Have you met him, Senora Krieger?”

  Sarah shook her head helplessly.

  “Then you must allow me to introduce you! A charming man.” She took hold of Sarah’s elbow and. drew her along. “He bought the old Stroessner estancia.”

  Sarah was smiling and nodding at her hostess when she saw who it was that she was being drawn toward and, without thinking, dug in her heels.

  John turned from his friends to see who was making such a grand entrance. He forgot to breathe and the smile froze on his face. Automatically he looked for his mother. They had to get out of here!

  ” Oooh, it’s Senor von Rossbach!” Consuela breathed. “Ai! Que hom-bre!”

  John snapped a look at her, startled by her worshipful tone. At the enraptured look on her face he let out his breath in a whoosh and forced himself to stay where he was. He looked at the stranger again. So this was Dieter the sperm guy.

  “He’s been doing some business with my father,” Consuela was saying. “They’re trying to breed a new type of cattle.” She tilted her head prettily, as though contemplating the creation of a new rose instead of a beefier cow.

  John looked at Luis over his sister’s head and almost laughed out loud at the way his friend rolled his eyes. His heartbeat was almost back to normal, but he really had to find his mother. He wanted to be by her side for this.

  Sarah had set her teeth and pulled her lips back in a semblance of a smile. She was quietly resisting an unusually insistent Senora Salcido when John showed up at her elbow. She immediately relaxed.

  “He can’t get both of us at the same time, Mom,” he whispered in her ear in English.

  They were finally facing von Rossbach, who turned and met Sarah’s eyes. His strong face went expressionless as the senora introduced them.

  “And this is my son, John,” Sarah said.

  Dieter offered the boy his big hand. John’s hand was dry and strong even by the ex-commando’s standards. Dieter was impressed.

  “I’ll leave you to become acquainted,” Senora Salcido said, leading off her surprised husband.

  “Mom, could it be that Luis’s mother is matchmaking?” John asked in English.

  Sarah laughed. She couldn’t help it.

  “Perhaps it would be better if we pretended that this is the first time we have met,” von Ros
sbach suggested diplomatically.

  John studied him. The resemblance to the Terminator was astounding, regardless of the beard. Because of his own feelings toward his “personal” Terminator, he couldn’t help but warm to the big man before him.

  Whoa, John, he warned himself. Slow down. This isn’t “Uncle Bob.” And Mom’s right. The guy has cop’s eyes. Be careful.

  Sarah was flustered, and she knew she probably looked flustered. “It’s been years

  since I was invited to something like this,” she said after a moment. “I’m not used to being with so many people at once.”

  John shot her a glance; she seemed more embarrassed than frightened. “So where are you from, sir? If you don’t mind me asking.”

  “All over, the last few years,” Dieter answered. He rather liked the way the boy was backing his mother up. It spoke of a close relationship. “I was born in Austria.”

  “I thought I heard a touch of an accent,” Sarah told him, smiling. I’m going to carry this off, she thought, relaxing. This is just a party, and for all I know this is just some guy. Who happened to look exactly like a deadly cybernetic killing machine.

  What the hell. If he were perfect he’d be married.

  They were silent for a long time on the drive home. John stared out the window, and Sarah watched for potholes, her eyes steady on the moonlit road. Insects and birds flitted by, and something squalled out in the darkness beyond the white cones cast by the headlights.

  “Coincidence,” John said at last. His voice held the trace of a question.

  Sarah was tense but silent; her mind was full of sentence fragments and her stomach was in turmoil. He was human! He had to be. There was nothing about him that was like a machine. He laughed, he made jokes, he changed expression… he had body language, dammit! Even so, there was something about him that worried her.

  “But he does have cop’s eyes,” John said. He folded his arms over his chest and slid down in his seat.

  Sarah nodded slowly. “We’d better find out who he is fast.”

  Before he finds out about us.

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  THE FORMER HOME OF MILES DYSON,

  CALIFORNIA: THE PRESENT

  Serena dumped the dirt out of her basket and stamped it down. This was almost the last of it; she needed to excavate only another foot or two down below the house. The California night was scarcely dark to her cyber-boosted eyes; the fog of light pollution made it as bright as day.

  Frowning, she looked around her; it might be best to get rid of the excess dirt in raised flower beds, otherwise she’d end up with a suspicious-looking mound in the middle of the yard. She looked down at the filled-in swimming pool. It had been only seven feet deep at one end, four feet at the other—not deep enough.

  Serena was a carefully calculated five-six, average height for a woman. But the T-101’s she planned to construct would all be six feet tall. So, while she was quite comfortable standing in what would be her secret laboratory, the depth of the place must accommodate them.

  With a sigh, she picked up her basket. I wish I had some T-101’s now to help me with this. It was heavy work.

  Stage one had been the easiest, hiring a contractor to put up a ten-foot privacy fence around the property. Necessary since she didn’t want the neighbors, or any agents of Tricker’s, wondering why she was pouring dirt into the pool or, more important, where it was coming from. She regretted having to drain the pool; a nice swim after work like this would have been pleasant.

  Gazing at the tiled area surrounding the oblong of raw dirt, she decided it looked odd. Maybe I should cover this part with concrete and make a tennis court. It will certainly improve the resale value. A slight smile quirked at her lips. This could be dangerous; I’m starting to think like a human.

  Actually she had little real fear of that happening; it was like running a subroutine, easily terminable. But such thoughts improved her ability to pass.

  She’d always been good at that. She remembered…

  SKYNET LABS, HOLDING CELLS: 2025

  Serena stepped delicately, like a frightened deer, into the cell. There was a boy here of approximately thirteen, her own apparent age. This would be the first time she’d met a wild human face-to-face.

  She supposed the caretakers and slaves were the same breed, but service to Skynet had tamed them, made them safe. This boy might do anything. Her assignment was to seduce him. Serena licked her lips with a combination of anticipation and slight nervousness. This could be quite a challenge.

  The cell appeared to be deserted. Serena leaned forward, studying the empty walls. Actually she could hear him; he was just above her head, clinging to a

  beam inside the doorway. So he was clever, a survivor—good genetic stock.

  Well? What are you going to do? Serena wondered, already bored with her shy act. It seemed she would have to provoke a response. “Hello?” she said, putting a quaver into her voice.

  She took a breath and straightened up. Then she took a step backward, reaching behind her for the door latch. She heard cloth slide across metal above her head.

  Well, finally!

  He dropped onto her shoulders and bore her to the ground, his hand crushing her mouth. Serena struggled, making muffled squealing noises as she writhed against him. This was unpleasant; the damned human smelled. He was strong, she noted, but light; the 1-950 could have tossed him around the room with one hand.

  “Stop it!” he hissed into her ear. “I’m going to take my hand away. Don’t scream or I’ll break your neck.”

  With a shudder that was actually suppressed laughter, Serena nodded. He slowly took his hand away.

  Part of the offensive smell was his fear—completely justified since his life span could be measured in days. This boy wouldn’t know anything of use to Skynet.

  His only utility was as a training tool for its children.

  She was the first to approach him. “Who are you?” she whispered.

  “I’ll ask the questions,” he said roughly.

  He still lay on top of her, and unless she missed her guess he was enjoying it.

  She turned slightly, so that they were lying front to front. Oh yes, he was enjoying this.

  “Please don’t hurt me,” she pleaded, allowing tears into her eyes.

  He seemed to grow, he certainly swelled, as he looked down on her. “Who are you?” he demanded gruffly. “What are you doing here?”

  It was impressive that he could stay focused on the situation at hand, despite his condition and his circumstances.

  “I—I was curious,” she stammered, in apparent fear. “I’ve never met anyone from outside.” She paused, looking into his face, searching it. “What’s it like to be free?”

  He frowned. “What do you mean?”

  “I’ve never been outside,” she said, trembling. The trembling felt fake to her, so she added a little gasp.

  ” Never?” he asked, his voice tinged with disbelief.

  “I was born here,” she whispered. Serena choked back a sob. “This is a terrible place. They perform experiments on us.”

  Which was perfectly true. Her whole life was an experiment.

  His face changed; his eyes softened and he caressed her cheek with one rough hand. “I’m sorry,” he said.

  She burst into tears and he moved so that he was cradling her, rocking her and making soothing noises. It was very pleasant. Serena was convinced that if she really had been weeping, this would have calmed her. She reached up and caressed his face, looking into his eyes.

  He lowered his head toward her tentatively, then stopped. Serena put her hand behind his neck and pulled him the rest of the way down. Their kiss was sweet at first, a kiss between two children. Then slowly it deepened, grew warmer, more passionate. His hand stroked her back, the rhythm becoming swifter, more demanding, like his kiss.

  She made the first move, slipping out of the flimsy tunic that was all she wore.

  He stared at her physical perfe
ction for a moment as though stunned. Then she leaned forward and began to help him undress, exclaiming wordlessly over small scars on his body, kissing them when she found them.

  She lost her nominal virginity to that boy, then broke his neck at Skynet’s orders.

  A very pleasant interlude, altogether.

  FORMER DYSON HOME: THE PRESENT

  Serena smiled reminiscently; yes, she’d always been good at getting humans to trust her. Picking up the two baskets, she headed back to her digging.

  She had cut through the concrete floor of a guest room to begin removing the dirt beneath. Today she would finish the digging and pour the cement into the holes

  for the support poles. As soon as that was dry she would put in a moisture barrier, a cement floor, and concrete blocks and steel posts to support the walls.

  Next would be the installation of a sophisticated climate control and air purification system; the parts were already waiting in the guest room. Then she could bring in the rest of the equipment and begin using her lab.

  In the meantime she’d been jobbing out the parts needed to construct the skeletons of her T-l0ls, using over a dozen different specialty foundries throughout the United States; their product came to several different post office boxes, none of them closer than two towns away. So far their work had been excellent.

  When time allowed, she’d check into using foreign manufacturers for maximum privacy. She imagined that many precision metalworkers knew each other; it wouldn’t do if several accidentally discovered that they were manufacturing different parts that looked suspiciously right alongside each other and started to put them together.

  But her real concern was that the Connors would learn of her work.

  Serena thought about Skynet’s enemies as she filled another basket with dirt. The Connors had very effectively disappeared after destroying Cyberdyne’s old facility. Sightings of them had been reported for a few months afterward, but none had panned out. To all intents and purposes, the pair had ceased to exist.

  Wouldn’t that be nice? Serena thought, jabbing the shovel into the hard-packed earth. Nice but unlikely.

  She’d posted a lookout for their names on the Internet; should anyone start discussing them or look for information on them, she would be alerted. She had also tagged their files at the FBI and CIA. Anyone looking for information there was more likely to lead her to her quarry.