"Where's home?" he said, making a joke of it. An angry look crossed her face again, and he said, "I mean really. We should be safe now. We could go somewhere else. Anywhere you want."
He knew that she still thought of California as home, but it didn't seem like that to him. After she'd met Kyle Reese, and Kyle had died fighting the first Terminator, Sarah had lived for a while in Mexico. John had been born there. He had no family in the U.S., hardly any friends. That first Terminator had also taken out Sarah's mother and her best friend. They had no one left. He'd grown up in so many countries that being in one of them in particular wasn't all that important. If it mattered to his mom, maybe they could move back closer to California.
"Why not?" he said. "Where do you want to live? We can move on, Mom. If Judgment Day's not going to happen now, we could go somewhere by ourselves. You know we could do it. We'd be okay. We can do all sorts of stuff."
"You're serious, aren't you?" she said. She looked at him wonderingly, as if she'd never thought of upping and leaving the estancia.
"It's only three months to Judgment Day. If nothing happens then, we could set up some kind of shop—I don't know-maybe back in Mexico. Maybe we could meet some normal people, for a change."
"I'll think about it," she said, sounding surprised at what she was saying.
John felt proud that he could talk sensibly like this to grown-ups, not like the kids his age back in LA. If there was no Judgment Day, why not head north? There was so much to see and do in Mexico. They could even visit the U.S. occasionally, if they were very careful. "I want you to be happy," he said. "I love you, Mom."
"I love you, too, John. But how about you finish up and get some sleep? Just this once, okay? Humor me."
"Okay," he said.
He hadn't expected the conversation to go like this. He felt a weight lift off his chest and fly away somewhere. They could probably live in different places as John grew up. They could move around, and see the sights. But they'd need to start somewhere.
They could lose themselves in the biggest, boldest city of them all: Mexico City.
CHAPTER FOUR
SKYNET'S WORLD
LOS ANGELES, CALIFORNIA
1994
The T-1000 morphed into its Janelle Voight form, and waved down a taxi.
"Say,"' it said. "That's a nice cab..."
It abandoned the cab in a downtown back street, then returned to its hotel room, taking a route through a narrow alleyway. Once there, it fast-forwarded through the remaining videos from the Voight house. None were of any help. Time to make a long-term plan. The police had the other evidence and would, no doubt, review it carefully. For the next seven days, the T-1000 would check developments within the L.A.P.D. That was something it had mastered.
There was no other immediate lead, and it assessed a probability that the Connors would avoid leaving any truly useful information on computer disk. That suggested another approach. In the future that the T-1000 came from, Skynet's records showed that John Connor's guerrilla forces first appeared in rural Argentina. The records were patchy until 2022, when Connor was encountered back in California, but it stood to reason that he would be in Argentina, or a neighboring country, on Judgment Day. That also explained how he would survive the nuclear devastation in the Northern Hemisphere.
For the T-1000, it was easy to morph into whatever form was required to outwit security systems and board airplanes. It could infiltrate the Argentinean information systems just as easily as it had those of the Los Angeles police. Even if it had to wait until after Judgment Day, sooner or later Connor would show his face in public.
The T-1000 could be very patient. It would complete its mission, using police information from as many countries as it had to.
Seven days later, it left the hotel for the last time.
"I won't be back, dear," it said to the woman at the front desk.
"Hold on," she said. She raised the hinged counter and ran after the T-1000, touching its arm. "How do you want to pay?"
Its right hand morphed into a sword-like weapon as it turned to her.
The liquid-metal Terminator smiled sweetly. "Like this..."
ARGENTINA
1997
It all unfolded as they knew it would, as the messages from the future had said. First, the announcements from Cyberdyne about its radical new computer hardware, then the major defense contracts. The U.S. upgraded its stealth bombers to operate unmanned, controlled by Cyberdyne nanochips. The government announced funding for more and more ambitious projects, culminating in the Skynet system.
Now he was growing up, John realized the burden that his mother had taken on. For him, it had been slightly unreal, back in 1994. He'd been just a kid, able to treat almost anything as cool—getting shot at, having his own Terminator to order around. Some things went deeper, like finding out his mom was an okay human being. But, like the adults around him always said, kids were so adaptable.
Well, he didn't feel so adaptable anymore, just determined, and scared, and angry.
He was not yet thirteen.
It seemed like he'd been given the worst of both worlds. Nothing they'd done had changed the march of events. Maybe they should have tried harder, as Sarah had wanted, before they left the States. At the same time, even his predicted victory over Skynet was uncertain. He'd need to fight every single inch, as if he'd never had the message from 2029. As his father had told Sarah, that was only one possible future.
Now he watched as the people around him came to understand what was happening, where their world was heading. It was just like he'd experienced in L.A., the realization that Sarah was sane, and the rest of the world was crazy. For the Tejadas, it came as a shock, the way events fell into place exactly as John and Sarah had said they would. For years, as long as they'd known him, Raoul had talked about nuclear war. He'd been even worse since they'd moved to his ranch. He'd always expected war, but now it was rushing at him like an express train.
Raoul spent his money, converting it to resources they'd need to survive. Once Judgment Day came, money in bank accounts would be worthless. The es-tancia was a nest of activity. It started to morph, as the Tejadas developed new priorities, stockpiling food, clothing, medicines, fuel, weapons, and ammunition, extending the underground bunkers, strengthening fences and guard towers, setting up control booths, putting in more alarms. With each day that passed, the property looked more and more like a military base. Raoul's people went armed. Only the herd of grazing cattle was unchanged, and even that would not last forever, not when the bombs fell and the nuclear winter came. The "Uncle Bob" T-800 worked round the clock, never needing to sleep, keeping close to John, like a hired bodyguard.
Raoul could never warm to the Terminator. His dog, Hercules, kept a safe distance from it, barking frantically if it came too close. Still, the big cybernetic organism was worth a dozen men, hefting huge weights, advising on tactics and fortifications. It was a walking library of military knowledge.
John and Sarah never stopped: laboring by day, planning at night, fitting in exercise, weapons practice, and combat training whenever they could. Without giving away their location, they became active on the Internet, and not just contacting friends. John grew adept at sending encrypted data through untraceable paths, laying out the message about Skynet fully and accurately for anyone who was prepared to consider it with an open mind. Soon it was all over the Net. If any record survived after Judgment Day, it would show that they knew things they could not possibly have known without information from the future.
Some people started to notice, and not everyone thought it was a good idea to hand military decisions over to machines. There were even demonstrations against Skynet, but the project went ahead.
Deep into the nights, John and Sarah worked through the issues with Raoul and Gabriela Tejada, drawing up contingency plans. John already thought of their group as the human Resistance. The T-800 kept close to his side, offering its own insights. John just wished that,
upstream in time, in 2029, he'd given it more files on what lay ahead. It was vague about their future.
E-mails went back and forth between John and Franco Salceda, debating, predicting the future, arguing about the meanings of events. As the months went on, Franco became less scornful, more willing to concede points. It looked like the Salcedas were getting worried big-time about the Skynet project. They could see that John really knew stuff.
"Move down here," John wrote to Franco one night. "Just do it—all of you. Please, don't argue. Don't let Enrique argue. If she has to, your mom will talk him round."
Nothing came back for a week. John tried to put it out of his mind, but then there was a message in his in-box when he checked it after dinner. "Expect us soon, amigo," Franco wrote. "We'll be there. Everyone sends love."
John read it twice, checking there was nothing else it could mean. "Yes!" he said—then wondered how he should feel about it. Small triumphs like this were tainted. Every such feeling assumed the worst—that Judgment Day was coming.
He printed off the message and ran to show Sarah and the Tejadas. The T-800 met him in a hallway outside his room. "Where are you going?" it said.
"I've gotta show Mom this," John said. He waved it in front of the Terminator. It took the printout, read it quickly, and passed it back.
"Very good."
"Cool, you mean," John said, still trying to teach the Terminator how to lighten up. "That's cool. Got it?"
"That's cool."
He'd grown used to the T-800, but the novelty had worn off. In fact, it could be a drag always having it around, cutting down his privacy. But he needed it to guard him. Sooner or later, the T-1000 would track him down again. When it found him, he knew he'd need all the help he could get.
Sarah, Raoul, and Gabriela were out on the back porch of Raoul's house, sharing a drink with Willard and a few others.
"Read this," John said, passing the printout to Sarah.
The Tejadas watched her expectantly. "Good work," she said to him. To the others, she added, "We've got the Salcedas on board."
"Ah, excellent!" Raoul said. He sounded a bit drunk. Hard though they were working by day, the Tejadas were not denying themselves any of life's good things in the evenings. Those things would not be around much longer. "Here's to Enrique and Yolanda!"
Sarah allowed herself a satisfied smile. "That's a very good start, John."
Another week passed, and the Salcedas arrived in a 4WD truck they'd picked up second-hand in Buenos Aires. "Nice to see you again, Connor," Enrique said, embracing Sarah. "It looks like we're in for a fight."
"Oh, Sarah!" Yolanda said tearfully. "John!"
The adults all knew each other well, for they'd often worked together, but the kids had to be introduced. The younger Salceda kids were confused and homesick, but Franco looked determined. He walked over to John and shook his hand. "Well done, man," he said. "You're cool."
Hercules checked out the Salcedas' dog, while Enrique approached the T-800, clapping it on the shoulder. "So, 'Uncle Bob,' huh? It's good to see you here, friend."
"It's good to see you, friend," the T-800 said. "Cool."
John felt like covering his face. The T-800 was learning, but it could still sound dorky.
Enrique shrugged glancing over at Sarah. "Bob doesn't waste words, does he, Sarahlita?"
"He's the strong, silent type," she said.
"Yeah. Fair enough, too."
From then on, the population at the estancia kept expanding. Some of Sarah's old friends from Nicaragua showed up, even her one-time boyfriends, who looked at her with new respect. A force was gathering.
COLORADO
AUGUST 28, 1997
A dark road wound gently up the mountain's lower slope, through ponderosa pine and mountain scrub, then climbed more steeply towards the rugged granite peak. Near the road, a series of electrical flashes lit up the night sky, just before midnight. They were visible for miles—a twisting, morphing spider-web of blue lightning.
For several seconds, the light show went on, crawling over treetops, amongst branches, then ceased as abruptly as it began. The "Eve" prototype T-799 Terminator materialized in mid-air, falling to the forest's grassy . floor, then quickly sat up, assessing its situation. The time transfer placed stresses on its body that a human would have registered as extreme pain—but that was unimportant. The Terminator quickly confirmed that its systems were fully functioning. That settled, it discarded the "pain" readings—they would soon cease.
Eve stood and surveyed her surroundings: darkness and vegetation all round, no useful infrared readings, no relevant animal life. She would need to orient herself quickly to meet her programmed objectives.
In 2026, Skynet had not yet solved the problems of preparing non-living matter for travel through a space-time displacement field, so Eve traveled naked on the voyage back in time. All her external layers were well-maintained living flesh, which interacted most favorably with the displacement field. Her white-blonde hair was razored into a bristling flattop, imitating the style of the human Resistance warrior whom Skynet had chosen as a template. It had copied Eve's appearance and voice carefully from that of Sergeant Helen Wolfe, a formidable combatant who had been terminated by Hunter-Killer machines on the Canadian West Coast.
Eve could easily pass for a human soldier with a strong body and exaggerated military bearing. Her T-799 design was the test for a new T-800 series, incorporating human tissue, fashioned on actual human models, deployable for infiltration work. She'd already field-tested the new concept by infiltrating the human Resistance in the shattered urban labyrinth of New York City. That first mission had blooded her and opened the way for more Terminators like her, but such missions no longer mattered to Eve. She'd now been sent back for something far more important: to protect Skynet in its infancy. Skynet would soon reach self-awareness. Without her intervention, it would be at the humans' mercy.
She headed directly uphill, brushing leaves and branches to one side, knowing that she would soon pick up the winding road, which would make the climb easier and guide her efficiently to her target. It was a warm, still night, and nothing disturbed her. There were lights far away in the valley and on other slopes. An isolated cluster of brighter lights appeared higher up the mountain.
A vehicle's high-beam headlights spilled across her momentarily, through the trees and scrub, then disappeared down the mountainside. She detected an infrared reading as the car passed on her left. Eve forced her way quickly through the walls of scrub, finding the road, then ran towards Cyberdyne's research base, the Advanced Defense Systems Complex. She knew she would find one entrance built into the rock above her—1500 feet below the mountain's summit. That cluster of lights, higher up the slope, must be her target. She ran now, passing a turnoff on her right that led to the other entrance. She maintained her top speed of twenty miles per hour, for which her fuel cell could sustain her almost indefinitely.
Minutes later, there were more lights behind her in the distance. She pivoted on her heel, turning as she ran, jogging backwards. Bright lights in the humans' visible spectrum flashed into her eyes. There was the swishing of tires, the low-pitched snarl and infrared glow of an automobile engine. She stopped directly in the vehicle's path as it squealed to a halt. Perhaps it was the same car as before, investigating the lightning-like effect of the displacement field. She assessed it as a late model, unmarked sedan.
It pulled over to the shoulder of the road, gravel crunching under its tires. Its headlights dimmed but stayed trained on her. Two Air Force personnel stepped out, leaving the car running. They wore pale uniforms and sidearms; one carried a long-handled flashlight. Eve waited dispassionately, analyzing their body dimensions as they approached. Their clothes might be useful, though neither of them closely matched her body shape. The weapons and car she could certainly use.
Both of them were male. The driver was a black man, tall and very bulky—well over 200 pounds. His passenger, the one with the flashlight,
was a wiry, fair-skinned Caucasian, somewhat under six-foot, perhaps 160 pounds. She would almost fill out his uniform. "I need your clothing, your guns and your car," she said.
"What the hell is this?" said the Caucasian. He glanced to his partner.
"Quickly!" Eve said.
The black man spoke in what she recognized as a "soothing" tone—the exaggeratedly tolerant way that humans spoke when they wanted to avoid violence. "Lady," he said in a slow drawl, "is this some kind of joke?" He looked her up and down, then glanced all round the edges of the road, as if to satisfy himself that she was naked—the humans had a nudity taboo—and that she had no vehicle nearby. "If you're trying to make a protest, you can't do it like this. This is a restricted area. Just being here is a serious federal offense. How did you get this far?"
"Irrelevant," she said.
"I don't think you're listening to what I'm saying. You can't come here. We're going to have to take you into custody."
"Wrong."
As they drew their handguns, she confirmed a course of action. If they lived, they might interfere.
She marked them for termination.
COLORADO
THE ADVANCED DEFENSE SYSTEMS COMPLEX
The Colorado complex was staffed by a mix of military personnel, civilian officers from the Defense Department, and Cyberdyne's own staff. They were rostered on round-the-clock, seven-day shifts. The military staff slept here, and there was adequate accommodation for the entire complement of 120 servicemen and other regular workers. For the past month, everyone had put in crazy hours, getting the Skynet project up and running. It was craziest of all for the Cyberdyne and Defense staff in charge of the project. As Cyberdyne's chief AI researcher and head of its Special Projects Division, Miles Dyson had been stuck here full-time, working eighty-hour weeks, and getting his sleep at odd hours when he could. He'd been worrying over every detail of the project—that, and other things.
T2 - 01 - The New John Connor Chronicles - Dark Futures Page 6