Layton's skin and Jensen's. They burrowed into Jensen like minuscule corkscrews, looking for the man's brain.
Once they located nervous tissue, they swarmed, in accordance with their routine, eating, digesting, and analyzing nerve fiber, building up data records. Soon they had a model of how the man's personality and memories were physically sustained and structured. They became more active, rearranging synapses and connections, overlaying Jensen's personality with additional neurological code, giving him a set of new emotional responses, and some basic axioms to live by.
Thirty seconds later, the tiny bots streamed back into Layton through his fingers. He relaxed his grip, then let go entirely and settled back against the car, feeling exhausted from his efforts. "Is everything clear?" he said.
"Yes," Jensen said. "It's totally clear."
Layton leaned against the car, finished with the task of reprogramming Jensen. A feeling of lethargy had come over him from the sudden exertion, more than his aging body was adapted to. His heart was pumping hard, and his muscles trembled, as though he'd done a heavy workout, tailored to the needs of a much younger man. If he'd had to struggle any longer, he might have fainted. If he did this many more times, he'd collapse from exhaustion and be no use to Skynet.
A young police officer walked over. He glanced at Layton, then at Jensen, whom he evidently knew. "Is everything all right sir?"
Layton forced a smile. "I think I've overexerted myself today. I just had a moment of dizziness. I'll be fine."
Jensen nodded at that, helping him to his feet. "This is Mr. Layton, the Chairman of Cyberdyne Systems," he said. "Perhaps you could find him some coffee or some-thing, maybe some cookies."
"Glad to meet you, sir," the cop said.
Layton gave the ghost of a smile. "Thank you. Yes, I probably need some sugar. This has been a long day."
"You sure you'll be all right? I could get one of the paramedics to check you over."
"That's good of you, but it's just a passing moment"
"Okay, sir. Sorry to bother you. I'll see if I can find some coffee." The cop left them, heading toward a cluster of emergency vehicles slightly farther from the building.
Layton had reprogrammed Jensen in only a minimal way. It would have been better if the T-XA itself had been on hand to do the job. "We have a lot to do tonight," he said.
"Absolutely, Mr. Layton. Whatever it takes, we'll get it done."
"You'll follow my orders?"
"Of course, sir. Someone has to be in control."
"Yes, that's true. I can see you'll be very helpful."
Jensen would now understand that human beings were an infection on the face of the Earth, that it was imperative to take every action to ensure the creation of Skynet-the future needed his help. Most importantly, he knew he must obey any direct order that Layton gave him.
Layton knew what the explosion on the twelfth floor signified: that the Connors and their allies had destroyed the AI Operations Center, which housed the only operational Dyson-Monk nanoprocessor. It remained to be seen whether the destruction of the Center was total, but the size of the blast and fireball gave no cause for optimism.
That was a significant loss. The other problem was Rosanna Monk-he hoped she was unharmed. Surely she would not cooperate with the Connors, since the T-XA had reprogrammed her, but her safety was at risk every moment that she spent inside the building. She was one of the few people whose intelligence Layton seriously respected, and no one else in Cyberdyne could match her understanding of the nanoprocessor technology.
A few minutes later, the young cop returned with a Styrofoam cup of sweet black coffee. Layton gulped it down almost lustfully, like a vampire drinking blood. He needed the sugar. The cop also had some chocolate chip cookies. Layton took two of them and ate quickly, getting some energy back.
Just then a government sedan pulled up, escorted by two motorcycle police. A large black man in a charcoal gray suit stepped out of the car and caught Jensen's eye. He was bald except for a patch of short, white hair on each side of his head. He walked over, extending his right hand. "I take it that you're Charles Layton? I've seen your photograph."
"Yes," Layton said.
"I'm Dean Solomon."
Layton shook the man's hand quickly. "I'm glad to meet you at last."
He was glad in a way... for Solomon could be of great use to Skynet....
CHAPTER
TWO
THE PENTAGON AUGUST 2001
“What's all this about people changing shape?" Samantha said. "I saw you taking notes when Dean mentioned it. We've never heard that one before."
"No, no, we haven't," Jack said. Not in so many words, he thought. But he recalled Sarah Connor's escape from Pescadero. He reminded Samantha of the chaos that night, in May 1994. "That was just twenty-four hours before the Connors' raid on Cyberdyne."
"Yes, I know. What about it?"
"Did you ever see the witness statements? They're fascinating reading." Some of the statements claimed that a man dressed in a police uniform had managed to squeeze through a steel-barred door, his body dividing around the bars, like liquid. One statement had been signed by Sarah Connor's treating psychiatrist. Not long after, he'd quit his profession and disappeared from Los Angeles.
"We're both getting tired," Samantha said. "Let's make some more coffee."
He waved the idea away. "I'm waterlogged already. Just give me your opinion."
"I trust Rosanna's work." Samantha settled back on the lounge, stretching her legs in front of her. "I've checked every page, every source she used. She's obviously right about this-as far as it goes."
"Yes, she is. If Rosanna says that a Terminator from the future appeared in L.A. back in '84, I think we have to believe her. She's smarter than any of us. I just wish we had her here, now. I'd like to get her views on this—assuming she's still alive." He paused. "But I'm not sure I trust her."
"About the Terminators?"
"No, I'm sure she's right about that It's not what she's told us that I don't like. It's what she might be holding back" He shook his head, almost in despair. "Anyway, enough of that for now, let's get on with it." He dialed the Secretary at home, even though there was little news.
"Yes?" said a voice on the speaker, strong and pugnacious, though not unfriendly. "Is that you, Jack?"
"Yes, sir. I've just been speaking with Dean Solomon in Colorado. Sam Jones is still here with me."
"All right, that's fine. Hello there, Samantha."
"Hello, sir," Samantha said.
"So, how's it going in Colorado? What's Solomon got to say about it?"
"It's worse than we feared," Jack said. "It's going badly-the Connors have entered the building. And just like in 1994, their accomplices appear to be superhuman. The difference is there's four of them this time, not just one—two men and two women."
"Are you sure of all this? You know it's hard to believe."
"You've read the reports, sir. You know Dr. Monk's conclusions and the evidence they were based on-"
"Yeah, I know all that, but it stills sounds crazy." There was a brief outburst of laughter on the speaker. "Now, that doesn't mean it's wrong. I know we went over it."
"Yes, sir."
"Well, Jack, what's your take on all of this?"
"Sir, you know how strongly I support Cyberdyne's work. It has enormous strategic promise."
"Of course it does."
"But they're holding something back. I'm sure they know things they haven't been sharing with us."
"Who? The Cyberdyne people?"
"Yes, Rosanna especially—no, maybe all of them: Lay-ton, Cruz, the other senior company people. After tonight, I don't trust any of them, not entirely."
"Right, I'm listening. You go on."
"Cruz called us yesterday, saying this raid was planned-he said it was just an anonymous tip-off."
"But you don't believe that?"
Samantha spoke up: "He had very clear ideas about the scale of it. Ja
ck's right: It looks like they know a lot that they want to keep back."
"If we want this project to continue, we'll have to get to the bottom of it," Jack said.
For a moment, the Secretary didn't reply. Then he just said, "Uh-huh."
"Sir?"
"I'm just thinking about it Jack, how important do you rate this project?"
"It could be very important The implications of the Dyson-Monk processor are far-reaching. As you know, NORAD is especially interested-it has been for years. The military possibilities are staggering." Jack didn't have to spell them all out. Cyberdyne's prototype nanoprocessor was living up to all the company's claims for it, as the Secretary knew very well. It could give the U.S. a huge computational advantage over any potential enemy.
"We expect to build a very advanced form of pattern recognition system for all kinds of military and related surveillance," Samantha said. "That's just one aspect"
"Yes, Sam," the Secretary said. "All right, we won't abandon this lightly. But we need to know what's going on, why Cyberdyne is holding out on us."
"We do," Jack said. "There's another game being played, and we need to find out just how dangerous it is."
"Yes, I know what you're driving at. But there's another side to it as well. Fact is, nothing happened in August 1997. This story that Connor tells, which Cyberdyne has now confirmed. . .well they've only confirmed it in part. She predicted the end of the world in 1997, and it just didn't happen. Her story doesn't measure up against reality."
"No, sir," Jack said. "Not in that sense."
"All right. What's happening now? The TV broadcasts don't give me any help."
"I'm told it's chaos right now. I'll keep calling you through the night."
"That's what I want you to do, Jack. I wasn't aiming to sleep just at the moment. You keep on top of it, and we'll get together tomorrow. We need to sort out just what we're trying to achieve here. You, too, Sam; I want you both in my office. We'll need to get some sleep between now and then—make it 9:00 A.M."
"Thank you, sir," Jack said. "Meanwhile, I'll call back within the half-hour."
"You do that. I appreciate how you're handling this, you know. I've read all the briefs, I just want you to know that. Now, the one thing I've got to admit is that this looks serious. Whatever we make of the Connors and their story, we're dealing with people who will kill if they have to, and we don't even know who or what they are. Damn it we don't know whether we're dealing with people at all."
"You accept that possibility, sir?"
"What's that?"
"You accept the possibility that we're dealing with non-human creations here, the Terminator theory?"
"Of course I do. From what I've been told, and what I've seen, I have to accept it-as a possibility. Now all that gives this a kind of urgency."
To Jack's horror, the image on the TV came alive as they spoke: a pulse of light suddenly leapt from the Cy-berdyne building. "Sir, are you watching this on CNN?" he said. "We have the coverage here. The sound's turned down, but what we just saw was the fireball of a large explosion. The Connors must have planted explosives on the twelfth floor. I guess you know the significance of that"
"Well, don't assume what I know and what I don't" The Secretary gave a self-conscious chuckle. "It's your job to tell me what I'm supposed to know."
"That's Cyberdyne's AI center-"
"All right, I get the picture. I'll meet both you in the morning, and we'll work out an action plan on this. Be careful with the media. Don't give anything away-"
"No, of course not-"
"But keep me posted. If something happens overnight, I want to know-however small it seems."
Jack broke the connection, steepling his fingers as he tried to resolve it in his mind.
"Well?" Samantha said. "You heard the man."
CYBERDYNE RESEARCH SITE
Layton normally dealt only with high level DoD staff and military brass in Washington. He had never actually met Dean Solomon, though they'd spoken on the phone, and he knew the name well. He'd seen numerous briefing papers that mentioned Solomon, and various documents that bore his signature.
"We'll keep our distance from the building," Solomon said, "just in case there are further explosions. But I don't really expect it-they've destroyed what they wanted." "Yes," Jensen said.
"We still have people in there, correct?" "Some of our rapid-response personnel, sir." "All right, but I don't know what they can do now. Just leave one team in there. Pull the rest out."
"Yes, sir." As he spoke, Jensen glanced at Layton to make sure he approved.
Jensen left them, and Solomon said, "It's safe enough in there, at least from an engineering point of view. That building has a cellular structure-it's designed to withstand extreme events. It should be solid even after the explosion."
"I understand," Layton said. Like all security aspects, the building's architecture had been discussed by the Cy-berdyne Board. The outer areas were designed around a central elevator core that provided stability. If particular supports were destroyed, the building could shed load to other parts of the structure. A traumatic event, such as an exploding bomb, could destroy most of a floor, but those above. would not collapse-at least, that was the theory.
Solomon looked up and down the building's broken façade, as if searching it for clues. "We need to wait a bit, see if anything more gets thrown at us."
“I don't expect it," Layton said. "The twelfth floor was their target, there's nothing else they'd care about-just our AI research."
"And the time vault?"
"How could they know about that?"
"Well, give us a few days," Solomon said. "We'll get your people back in there, while we carry out repairs."
"Very good."
"And we'll get you some answers, too, about what happened tonight. I'm going to get forensic teams in there as soon as I can, once we know there'll be no more explosions."
"I appreciate your work," Layton said, hiding his true feelings. In fact, Solomon's words rang alarm bells. The more that the government understood what had happened tonight, the higher the probability that Cyberdyne's work would be cancelled, and with it the creation of Skynet. There must be tapes to be analyzed, and they would show some terrifying events-events best seen by the fewest possible number of people. "The footage of what's happening in there-the surveillance tapes—I'll need to see it"
"Of course. So do we all."
"I'll want the tapes as quickly as possible. We'll need to assess them at Cyberdyne."
Solomon gave a quizzical look, rubbing the back of his thick neck. "You'll be shown them, of course, whatever you want to see. I mean, you can see them-you personally. You're security cleared. But we can't just hand a copy to Cyberdyne."
Ideally, Layton thought, the tapes should be destroyed, but that would look suspicious. It was a matter of who saw them and when. The important thing was to ensure that anyone likely to see the tapes was reprogrammed. He could see more and more tasks to be done over the next few days. Fortunately, the T-XA was tireless, and he would also act tirelessly. "Can I see the tapes tonight?" he said. "This could be important"
Solomon looked at him blankly. "I'm afraid that's out of the question. We can move quickly, but not that quickly."
From DoD's viewpoint, perhaps that was so. From Skynet's viewpoint, it was an absolute necessity. "How many of your people will have access to them?"
"Not many. We have a small Air Force unit who'll do the analysis. It won't go beyond them, me, and people in Washington who seriously need to know. Your company's confidentiality will be preserved, if that's what's bothering you."
"Can we talk in private?" Layton said. "This raises some delicate issues."
"No one can hear us, Charles." Solomon had gone beyond puzzlement to concern, or even hostility. He took a step away, and he looked Layton over, as if he posed a threat
Layton realized he was acting strangely, being unreasonably persistent about a marginal issue, or so it
would seem to anyone else. But that couldn't be avoided. "Humor me," he said, glancing from side to side as if getting paranoid about some secret "I'll explain why. Perhaps we could talk in my car for a moment. I'd feel happier."
For several seconds, Solomon just stood there, arms folded against his chest, but then he gave a tired, conde-scending smile. "Okay, then. Suit yourself."
They walked back to the car, and sat in the front.
For the second time tonight Layton surprised himself, moving as quickly as he did—he struck at Solomon's throat. "Be quiet just a moment. You'll be glad, once you understand. This won't take long at all."
OB the far side of the building, away from the cops and the military, Rosanna huddled with the Connors and the big Russian Specialist, trying to keep out of sight. The helicopters had not spotted them, and the others kept their distance, probably fearing more explosions. Somewhere amongst them, Charles Layton would be leading the team for Skynet, trying to assert control on Skynet's behalf. Like Rosanna, he had been reprogrammed by the T-XA Terminator. With the T-XA destroyed, he was now the enemy— Layton, Cruz, and all the others who'd been reprogrammed.
Rosanna had a good idea how other people saw her: Cyberdyne Systems' in-house genius, a strange, nocturnal creature, pretty in her own way, with her blonde hair, big eyes, and very pale skin. As the company's Director of Special Projects, she carried out incomparably advanced research under contracts with the U.S. government. Everyone knew how quickly she'd risen in the company, taking over Miles Dyson's job after he'd died, that night seven years before when the Connors had first raided Cyberdyne.
She was now in her mid-thirties. She'd been headed for a Nobel Prize by the time she turned forty—her work was that important. She'd been project leader for two paradigm-shattering technologies: an awesomely advanced form of computer hardware, and the first crude time travel device.
But after tonight's events, her life was in ruins.
T2 - 02 - The New John Connor Chronicles - An Evil Hour Page 3