by Timothy Zahn
“Look sharp,” she shouted as she set the helo into a slow clockwise rotation around its vertical axis. “They’re down there somewhere. So’s Jik.”
“There!” Halverson snapped. “That clump of birch trees. I can see someone.”
Blair craned her neck, angling the helo a bit so that she could look past Halverson out the portside door. But the fading fire wasn’t bright enough to give any clear light to the edges of the clearing.
Paradoxically, it was bright enough to throw flickering shadows across the ground, adding that much more visual confusion to the gloom already filling the forest.
“I don’t see anyone,” she called.
“He’s there,” Halverson insisted. “Crouching behind those birches.”
“Was it my father?” Hope called from the other side of the Blackhawk.
“I couldn’t tell,” Halverson said with an edge of impatience. “I need to get closer.”
Unfortunately, that was exactly what they couldn’t do right now. Like all Resistance helos tasked with hunting ground-based Terminators, the Blackhawk had a heavily armored underside. Hovering here at treetop height, they were reasonably safe from anything Jik could be waiting to shoot at them.
But once they headed down, all bets would be off. The main cockpit skin was much thinner and more susceptible to weapons fire, and Blair didn’t have even the modest protection of a windshield anymore. A single shot into her head, and all three of them would die.
“We can’t get closer,” she told Halverson. “Not until we know who that is.”
“How the hell do you expect me to figure that out from way up here?”
And then, almost as if on cue, there was a fresh flicker of fire from below them. Not from the birch trees Halverson had indicated, but from halfway across the clearing. The flame faltered a little, shifted position slightly—
And then flashed across the clearing to impale itself chest-high against the trunk of a big tree a couple of meters away from the birches.
“That’s a fire arrow!” Halverson shouted, a note of triumph in his voice. “That’s Preston—he’s marked Jik for us!”
“Can you see him?” Blair called. “Can you see that it’s Jik?”
“He’s there—he’s right there,” Halverson confirmed excitedly. “But I can’t—damn it, I can’t swing this thing far enough around.”
“Hang on,” Blair ordered, slowing the helo’s clockwise rotation and starting it turning back the other direction. “And don’t lose him.”
Suddenly, without warning, a burst of fire from the forest on the other side of the clearing shot across toward them. Reflexively, Barnes ducked—
And with a sharp thunk a flaming arrow buried its tip in a big tree two meters to Barnes’s right.
Preston gasped, dropping lower as a shower of sparks rained down.
“What the—? Barnes?”
For a fraction of a second Barnes just stared at the burning arrow. What the hell was Jik up to?
Tearing his eyes away from the fire, he looked upward.
The chopper, which had been slowly turning as Williams searched for a target, had come to a stop. He watched, with a surge of horror, as it started turning the other direction.
Moving around to bring its portside M240 into range.
“He’s suckering them,” he growled. “Jik saw you light the camo net with a fire arrow, figured we might be smart enough to try marking his position with another one, and decided to get there first.”
“How could we mark him?” Preston said, his voice bewildered. “We don’t even know where he is.”
“We do now,” Barnes said, looking across the clearing to where the arrow had come from. In the fading light from the smoldering camo net, he could just make out a figure standing motionless beside one of the bigger trees.
“Shoot him,” Preston urged. “Come on, shoot. That’ll show Blair who we are.”
Barnes sighed. Only it wouldn’t show Williams anything of the sort. If things had been reversed, if it had been Preston who marked Jik’s position with a flaming arrow, the Theta would certainly respond by opening fire toward his attackers with whatever weapons he had.
Williams would know that. Rather than getting her to hold her fire, an attack on Jik now would simply get her shooting at him and Preston that much faster.
He looked up again, his mind whirring as he tried to figure out a plan. The chopper was too high for Williams to be able to distinguish either of their faces well enough for a positive ID. Ditto for their clothing, Preston’s bow, or anything else they had with them.
Their only hope was to find cover.
Only there wasn’t any. Not from a machinegun firing from above.
“Barnes,” Preston said, the name a sigh of resignation.
Barnes squeezed his hand around the grip of the G11. The chopper was nearly to firing position now. Five more seconds, maybe six, and they would be dead.
He had exactly that long to come up with some way to stop Williams. Any way that he could.
“Almost there,” Halverson called tensely. “Come on, come on.”
“Easy,” Blair said, frowning out the side door as the Blackhawk continued to turn back toward firing position. She could see the figure down there now, just visible in the flickering light from Preston’s fire arrow. He was standing still, possibly hoping the hunters wouldn’t spot him. There was a flicker of movement a meter to his side—
“Hold it,” Blair said, leaning toward the door. Was that a second figure hunkered down in the bushes? “I see someone else.”
“Oh, damn,” Halverson snarled. “I knew it. He got one of the T-700s working. Come on, come on—we’re almost there.”
Blair bit hard at her lip. Yes, that could indeed be a T-700 down there. It could also be a T-600, or even another Theta they hadn’t yet accounted for.
It could also be a human being.
But it had to have been Preston who had fired that arrow. Preston had a bow, and there was no reason she could think of why Jik would have bothered to pick one up.
And if that was Jik down there, he had every reason to position his reconstructed T-700 under just enough cover to masquerade as another person in hopes of throwing Blair off track.
She huffed out a breath. It wasn’t perfect, but it made more sense than any other theory.
And until and unless she got some solid reason to think otherwise, she would just have to go with it.
* * *
“We’re going to die, aren’t we?” Preston murmured. “They’re going to shoot us down, and we’re going to die.”
And then, with the chopper nearly to firing position, Barnes suddenly had the answer.
Maybe. Maybe the whole thing was complete insanity that would do nothing but get them killed a little faster.
But it was all he had.
“Here,” he said, shoving the G11 into Preston’s hands. Taking a deep breath, he left his partial concealment and stepped directly in front of the burning arrow.
And standing straight and tall, he threw his arms out to both sides.
“You want to stop me?” he murmured toward the sky, the way he’d snarled at Blair last night from outside the chopper. “Shoot me.”
And as Halverson swung the M240 onto his target, the vague figure down there stepped directly into the light and threw his arms out to both sides.
And suddenly that image, and the accompanying words, flashed up from Blair’s memory.
You want to stop me? Shoot me.
“Stop!” she snapped at Halverson, twitching the Blackhawk’s nose to throw off his aim. “Don’t shoot!”
“What are you doing?” Halverson snarled. “That’s Jik.”
“That’s Barnes and Preston,” Blair snarled back, resettling the helo’s nose and looking past Hope out the starboard door. The flaming arrow had come from somewhere over there...
And there he was. Another figure, standing beside a tree.
Waiting to enjoy the show a
s Blair cut down her own people.
“That’s Jik, over there,” she called back to Halverson. “Hang on—I’ll bring the helo around.”
But she didn’t. There was no need. Even before the words were completely out of her mouth, the starboard M240 unexpectedly roared to life, sending a long, violent stream of machinegun fire down at the shadowy figure below. Even as Blair caught her breath she saw the body jerk and spasm, then duck behind a tree and stumble out the other side. Another long burst of fire, and it crumpled to the ground.
The roar of the machinegun ended, and Blair raised her eyes from the motionless Theta to the girl hunched over the weapon.
And in the dim light she saw the tension lines in Hope’s young face. The grim set to the jaw, and the dark unyielding resolve in her eyes.
Hope Preston was no longer a girl. Not even a girl hardened by a tough forest life.
Hope Preston was a warrior.
And even amid all the death and misery of the post-Judgment Day world, Blair found a distant part of herself mourning the girl’s loss.
And suddenly, the perfect plan fell apart. Without warning, without reason, the sky opened up and began to rain death on him.
“No!” Jik shouted in fury and disbelief. He ducked sideways, trying to get to the shelter of the tree beside him. But it was too late. The heavy machinegun rounds had already hammered across his side, shredding skin and bursting blood vessels and shattering bone. His left leg collapsed beneath him, pitching him back out from behind the tree and into range of the guns again. For a moment the fire faltered, and then the stream of killing lead once again opened up full fury.
No! he tried to shout again. But his voice was gone, as was most of his throat. No! You can’t do this! I’m John Connor! I’m John Connor!
He was still trying vainly to scream that message to the distant traitors when his vision faded into eternal darkness.
CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX
“It isn’t often,” Connor said from the middle of the organized tangle of tubes and wires that encircled his bed, “that I get the chance to commend and chew out the same group of people for the same actions.”
Kyle carefully avoided looking at Callahan and Zac. With the tension of yesterday’s events behind them, and with a little catch-up on food and sleep, he could see things more clearly.
Clearly enough to see that Connor was right. On both counts.
“Let’s start with the chewing out,” Connor went on. “Any of you want to take a stab at that one and save me the trouble?”
Callahan cleared his throat self-consciously.
“We should never have gone down into the tunnel, sir,” he said. “Not without first reporting our find.”
“You shouldn’t all have gone down anyway,” Connor said, a little less severely. “Obviously, I wouldn’t have wanted you to abandon an injured teammate, either. But two of you could have gone down to help Yarrow while the third came back for help.”
“Yes, sir,” Callahan said.
“And not just for your own sakes, either,” Connor added. “If it hadn’t been for Star figuring out that something was wrong and pestering everyone until we pulled a hunting team and chopper back to look for you, we could have lost many more people to those T-700s. Including all of you.”
Out of the corner of his eye, Kyle saw Callahan wince.
“Yes, sir,” he said in a low voice. “We understand.”
“Actually, I don’t think you do,” Connor said, his voice still stern. “You have no idea what you wandered into down there. In fact, we’re still figuring it out. The search teams have already found one hangar-sized chamber at the far end of the tunnel, and they think there may be more.”
“Something that big survived the explosion?” Zac asked incredulously.
“Yes, and I suspect it was deliberately designed to do so,” Connor said. “Skynet had an impressive array of repair and refurbishment equipment down there, plus weapons, ammunition, and explosives. And, just for good measure, we also found the radio jammer that’s been making such a mess of our local communications.”
“And Terminators,” Kyle murmured.
“A lot of Terminators,” Connor confirmed grimly. “We’ve destroyed at least a hundred T-600s and T-700s already. And as I said, we haven’t even finished going through the whole place yet.”
“And you said it was designed to survive the attack?” Callahan asked.
“So it would seem,” Connor said. “Some kind of contingency redoubt, set up on the chance that the Resistance ever managed to launch a successful attack.” He gestured in the direction of the tunnel. “Interestingly enough, we nearly set up camp three kilometers that way, which would have put us almost directly above the main chamber. Luckily for us, we decided we liked this spot better.”
Kyle shuddered. All that equipment, all those weapons, all those Terminators... and once again Skynet had chosen to turn those resources directly against John Connor.
“That’s the other lesson you should take away from this,” Connor continued. “One of the two things in this world that you can depend on is Skynet’s single-minded determination. Short-term and long-term both.”
He gestured toward the three of them; and as he did so, the sternness faded from his face.
“Which brings me to the commendation part of this meeting,” he said. “I could give you a long speech about your bravery and resourcefulness, and what your own determination did for me and everyone else in the group. But since you already know those details, it would be pretty much a waste of time. So instead, I’ll just say thank you. And well done.”
Kyle swallowed hard, his last memory of Yarrow hovering in front of his eyes. He’d given his life for the others, just as Marcus Wright had died saving Kyle and Connor and all of Skynet’s other prisoners.
Kyle had nearly had to make that same sacrifice. Someday, he knew, he would have to do it for real. He could only hope he would meet his death as bravely as they had.
“Thank you, sir,” Callahan said for all of them “We’re glad we could be of service.”
“As I’m sure you’ll continue to be,” Connor said, eyeing each of them in turn. It seemed to Kyle that his gaze lingered a bit longer on him than on the other two, but that might have been his imagination. “And to that end, effective immediately, the three of you are being transferred to Barnes’s shock force. You’ll be trained as a fireteam, with the goal of eventually being integrated into Echo platoon.”
Kyle felt his eyes widen. A fireteam assignment? Already?
“I—yes, sir,” Callahan said, sounding as surprised as Kyle felt. “But I thought...” He stopped.
“You thought there was a longer evaluation period,” Connor finished for him. “Normally, there is. But yesterday the three of you went through the fire together. Some people don’t survive that kind of challenge. Those who do come out stronger.”
Connor gestured toward them. “I said a minute ago that Skynet’s determination was one of the two things you could count on in this world. The other is the courage and trustworthiness of your teammates. You’ve already become that kind of team. All we’re going to do is make it better.”
“Thank you, sir,” Callahan said. “We won’t let you down.”
“I know you won’t.” Connor smiled. “Now, go get some more rest. Barnes could be back at any time. And as I’m sure Reese will tell you, he can be a very demanding man to work for.”
It had been a long day, with a short and tense night before it, and by the time Blair finally woke up she found she’d slept for nearly nine hours.
Barnes hadn’t slept as long, she discovered as she emerged from Preston’s house. Neither, apparently, had anyone else in town. Aside from Preston and Hope, the rest of Baker’s Hollow had already gathered their most vital belongings and disappeared, melting into the woods, heading God only knew where as quickly as they could.
Preston and Hope had stayed behind to say good-bye. So, to Blair’s surprise, had Halverson.
>
And as they all said their farewells, Blair noted the subtle but real change had taken place in the three of them and their relationships.
Preston had gained an edge of quiet steel, his leadership no longer based solely on compromise and cooperation but now with a dose of confidence and gut-level belief in himself and his decisions. Halverson, in contrast, had toned down some of his brashness, with perhaps a grudging new respect for Preston.
And both men were just a little bit afraid of Hope.
The walk back to the Blackhawk was very quiet. Barnes never said a word along the way, and for her part Blair was still too tired and drained to feel like talking.
Certainly not with a man who still hated her.
They were in the air, heading over the mountains toward San Francisco, when Barnes finally spoke.
“You figure they blame us for what happened?” he asked.
Blair nodded. “Probably.”
“Yeah,” Barnes said. “‘Course, there wouldn’t be anyone left to do any blaming if we hadn’t showed up. Sooner or later, Jik and the others would have killed them.”
“I know,” Blair said. “I think Preston and the others do too, down deep.”
“Maybe.”
For a moment Barnes was silent.
“You made a fool of me, you know.”
Blair frowned at the sudden change of subject. “What?”
“Back at the camp, before the San Francisco attack,” he said. “When you gave me that phony order from Connor so that you could help Wright escape.”
“That wasn’t my intention,” Blair replied carefully. Even to her own ears it sounded pretty weak.
It obviously did to Barnes, too.
“Doesn’t matter whether you meant it or not,” he said. “You still made me look like a fool.” He paused again. “But you were right.”
Blair threw a frown at him.