The Hell-er-Nator III: Tin Man's Alley
by Ironbear
A Buffy the Vampire Slayer-The Terminator crossover Event.
"The Hell-er-nator: Tin Man's Alley" – Xander Harris, Cordelia Chase, and ensemble cast (YAHF x-over: The Terminator)
Story Blurb: One might think that destroying the Terminator would put an end to things. And anywhere else, it just might. But this is the Hellmouth, and when has anything ever been that easy here?
Title: "Hell-er-nator: The Chaos Machine"
Author: Ironbear
Rating: PG-13 (FR-18 at TtH) going all the way up to R or FR-21. There is sex, violence, threats of non-con, and bad language. And, at some points, violent death, some of it non-consensual. Actually, all of the violent death is non-consensual. Those chapters will be marked and rated as FR-21 when they are posted if they're graphic enough to need it.
Disclaimer: Buffy the Vampire Slayer and Angel the Series and characters thereof belong to Joss Whedon, Mutant Enemy, Warner Brothers, 20th Century Fox, and Kazui Entertainment. The Terminator, T2, and characters thereof belong to Orion Pictures, TriStar Pictures, Warner Bros, and James Cameron. The Event Group is loosely adapted from the series by David L. Golemon, Macmillan publishing. Everyone else belongs to their respective owners too, except for my original characters, whom I suppose belong mostly to themselves.
This is a work of derivative fiction. All persons, characters, names, places, locations, entities, personages, and/or deities contained within are purely fictional, or fictional representations thereof, and any resemblance to any real persons, characters, names, places, locations, entities, personages, and/or deities are purely coincidental, or they are used in a purely fictional manner.
Don't worry: there will be a full list of credits and disclaimers in the afterword. There'll probably have to be.
Opening title song lyrics are from "The Unforgiven III" by Metallica. Closing title lyrics are from "Silence Remains" by 3 Doors Down.
Summary: Xander Harris is wounded and out of action. Chief Warrant Officer Michaela Reeves, the last functioning survivor of the Black Company, has had her hands tied by her superiors. Cordelia Chase is in the hands of the Mad Scientist, Dr. Margaret Walsh of the Initiative. And there's still yet another Terminator out there somewhere: the TX Model Harmony Kendall.
All in all, pretty much par for the course for the Scooby Gang and their allies.
They've got the bad guys surrounded, outclassed, and outnumbered. Now all they have to do is convince the bad guys of that...
Type: Action-adventure, sci-fi, romance, military, super heroic, and even some horror.
Chronology: Takes place immediately following the events of "Ghosting the Machine".
Pairings: Xander Harris and Cordelia Chase, Jesse McNally and Aura, Jonathan Levinson and O.C., and others. Mostly canon. Mostly.
Author's Note(s): Part III of a multi-part part series. Part three covers the Buffy-verse version of the events between the end of the first Terminator movie and the beginning of the second. Kind of.
Warnings! Proceed at own risk! Sex, some verging on non-con, nudity, torture, death... oh my gods, is there death. It's a freaking Terminator crossover. Whattya expect fer crying out loud? Canon characters die. Canon characters get brutalized. Secondary canon characters die. OCs die. NPCs die. Cops die. People die both on and off-screen. Dead people die. There's violence: my fight scenes can be a bit visceral at times. There's snark out the wazoo (Geezus Keerist, it has Xander and Cordelia – of course there's snark). There's rampant cuteness. There's kung fu, waif fu, quip fu, claw fu, vampire fu, and gun fu. There's even express rifle fu. Hell, there is Cordelia fu. There's lame humor, bad humor, gallows humor, soldier's humor, and even inappropriate humor and humor during sex. There's brick jokes. There's what happened to the mouse? jokes. There's harsh language. There's anti-religious humor and snark. There's...
Oh, hell. It is over thirty freaking plus chapters and over several hundred thousand words long, total. I'm pretty damned sure there's something in here to offend just about anyone, and if I find I missed your particular hot button issue, I can always rewrite a section to toss it in there too. ;)
About the only thing I think I didn't manage to pull off is character bashing. Hey – I actually like all of the various characters, even the bad guys and the good guys that I can't stand. OK, maybe there's a couple that don't come off at their best, but they were pricks in canon, too. Other hand, there's a few I portray in a better light than their canon depictions, so, neener neener.
Cast of Characters (Main): Xander Harris, Cordelia Chase, Jonathan Levinson, Aura, Warren Mears, Tor Hauer, Heidi Barrie, Victor Creed; Detective Paul Stein; Joyce Summers, Dawn Summers, Riley Finn, and Professor Maggie Walsh, Consulting Psychiatrist. Several major OCs.
Dramatis Personae (Secondary): Screw it: it has a cast of freaking hundreds, at least.
TIN MAN'S ALLEY:
In the aftermath of Halloween:
Xander Harris is badly wounded, hospitalized, and in protective custody.
Cordelia Chase is moderately wounded, captured, and in the hands of the one person that no one sane would wish to be held by: Dr. Margaret Walsh of the Defense Research Initiative, and her crew of black operations thugs.
Chief Warrant Officer Michaela Reeves is the only ambulatory survivor of the ill fated Black Company, with a definite interest in Cordelia Chase. Unfortunately, she has been told in no uncertain terms that she is not to acquire Miss Chase and deal with Doctor Director Walsh by the most effective and expedient means at her disposal.
Having survived the worst and deadliest Halloween in the history of Sunnydale, the First Sunnydale Irregulars and their allies have determined not to disband.
Doctor Director Maggie Walsh badly wants the information locked in the minds of Cordelia Chase and Xander Harris, and she'll use any means at her disposal to acquire it. Unfortunately, the means she is prepared to utilize, while effective, are not guaranteed to be survivable...
And the only thing standing in Maggie Walsh's path are a battered and wounded Chief Warrant Officer with limited resources, both hands tied behind her back, a commandeered Air Force Colonel, and a handful of civilian allies of unknown provenance and ability.
There's just a few things that Doctor Director Call-me-Maggie Walsh isn't aware of:
The Sunnydale Irregulars and the Scooby Gang consider Xander Harris and Cordelia to be two of their own, and they never, ever leave their people behind or in enemy hands.
Jesse McNally, the once dead teenager who came back dressed as Iron Fist, Champion of Kun Lun, isn't real fond of that concept, either. And he now has the skills and ability to do something about it.
Neither are his friends, what's left that's ambulatory of the Scooby Gang. And they're teamed up with an eclectic assortment of survivors of Halloween – not all of whom changed back... including what just might be two of the most dangerous teenagers in existence: Tor Hauer and Heidi Barrie.
And that Cordelia Chase was once a little girl who played at being the leader of the Seeonee Pack with Xander Harris.
Cordelia Chase is nobody's plaything, and she has determined that she will never be anyone or anything's victim, not ever again.
The girl who once played at being the bitch she-wolf who stood against the Dhole, is all grown up now, and she's slipped her leash. And hey, guess what?
She's not playing any more.
.
The Hell-er-Nator: Book III –
Tin Man's Alley
by Ironbear
"Always cheat, always win. The only unfair fight is the one you lose." – Rules for a Gunfight (Anonymous)
Prologue III: The Moving Hand That Having Writ, Wipes Clean the Slate...
"14) Have a plan. 15) Have a back-up plan, because the first one won't work. 16) Have a secondary back-up plan to your primary back-up plan in case CentCom or SecDef finds the first two plans 'unacceptable'." — Rules for a Gunfight (Anonymous)
Monday, October 31, 2033; Groom Lake Complex (beneath Dreamland), Las Vegas Nevada; Night 11:17pm –
"Time."
"And about time," Master Technical Sergeant Dwayne Hicks said, nodding. "Bide a moment."
Turning away from the doorway, he gave one long last look to his... huh. After all this time, he still wasn't sure what to call her. Not-a-wife. They'd never formalized the relationship. Hell, it'd been almost ten years of on again, off again relations before they'd even acknowledged that they had one.
You tended not to do that in the Resistance. It hurt less that way when you lost them.
Hayden Guerra. Brunette, Puerto Rican/Irish, lean and curvy, barely five two-and-a-half, tan and blue eyed, and tough as nails and barbed wire. And not in the least bit girlish. As he would later observe to himself in a bar in Sunnydale, women in the Resistance tended to look like soldiers. Especially the soldier women.
What the hell. Girlfriend, mate, hunting partner, life partner. Wife in all but name. If there's a relationship there, you name it.
"I'll be back," he said.
"Better be." There was a wealth of emotion in the blue eyes that locked fiercely on his own, and not a word of them spoken. None of them needed to be.
With a short, sharp nod, he turned back to the door and his escort, and left. Not looking back.
It wasn't true in this instance, but the fiction had to be maintained. Everyone comes back. It's a vow, not a promise.
Just a bit over a hair shorter than his not-a-wife, Major Benjy Sheridan, Tech-comm, and Command Sergeant of the First Sunnydale Irregulars looked him over coolly with a pair of large, clear gray eyes.
"Regrets?" she said, her tone neutral, betraying neither curiosity nor any particular caring.
"Always. Never."
"Hah." Beverly Sheridan barked out a short, humorless noise that might have been the breath of a laugh. "I get that."
Hicks carefully did not nod, but his expressionless mask and microscopic shrug probably conveyed the same understanding. She would, too...
Johnny Smith, aka Bucky Barnes, probably the closest thing that Beverly Sheridan ever had, and ever would have, to what he and Hayden did, had died in the Seattle Blackout Zones. And a long string of casual encounters since were not, and could never be, the same.
Those were just mutual stress relief, and human contact.
A long way through corridor and then an elevator down deep into the bowels of the place. Janus' beard, but the old Event Group complex beneath Groom Lake was fricking huge.
The elevator let them out onto a large foyer with another arched, branching corridor that led to the embarkation point for the Temporal Resonance Cascade Facility. What several of the older Resistance members, those who were old enough to remember from pre-Judgment Day, pre-Long Dark pop culture, had immediately dubbed: The Time Tunnel. The hand lettered sign over the station doorway to the platform for the high speed tram that would take them the rest of the way brought a ghost of a smile to Hick's lips. The irreverent nickname had caused no end of irritation to the outsider scientists and techs working on the project.
Well, fuck 'em if they couldn't stand a joke. Or was that the other way around?
They picked up Major Cameron Blake of Hells-Gate Two's primary Team, HG-3, where the tram let them out. He and Benjy exchanged casual salutes and then bumped fists.
"Cam."
"Benj."
The stocky, dark haired Cameron gave him a cool and appraising once over also, much as Beverly had. Hicks didn't take offense. Hell, if one of the old time veterans wanted to find him wanting and upbraid him for something before pointing out how he could improve it, Hicks would gladly stand there and take it. And then nod and say, "Yes sir," or "Yes ma'am." Understood, sir or ma'am.
You did that with living legends. Especially the ones that had survived from the very beginning until now. Especially the ones that had survived Sunnydale. And especially the ones like the Irregulars, who had survived not only that long ago, hellish Halloween, but the battle of the Cleveland Hellmouth, and the evacuation after. Or the ones like the Hells-Gate Team who had survived the desperate clusterfuck of the Battle of Des Moines, and, along with the thirty-six surviving Irregulars, had made it through the fighting withdrawal that came after.
There were living legends that hadn't survived Des Moines.
"Ready to go?" Cam said.
"Ready as I'll ever be," Hicks said, meeting the dark eyes evenly and nodding.
"Hah." Nodding back, Cam gave out one of those breaths of a laugh also, with little humor in it. "I know. Ask a stupid question... "
"Sir, there are no stupid questions, sir!" Hicks said, snickering. "There are only stupid responses from Jar Heads, sir!"
That got a genuine laugh, even if a small one, as he'd intended and hoped for.
"Ooh rah!" Benjy said, shaking her head. "Just don't crack that one around Lieutenant Sergeant Major Sweet, Tech-sergeant."
"No, ma'am," Hicks said, grinning. "I like all my parts still attached, ma'am."
His patrol partner was waiting already when Sheridan and Cameron delivered him to a calmly waiting Commander Seven. Technical Sergeant First Elston Geiger gave Hicks a nod and a broad grin.
"Ready, Master Tech-Sergeant?" Geiger said.
"Ready and almost willing," Hicks said, nodding back.
"Never could teach you the importance of 'never volunteer, Hicks," Geiger said, chuckling.
"Which I see that you learned so well yourself," Hicks said, acknowledging the quip with a nod and a tight smile..
If things went well, and worked as they should, they would both land somewhere within the environs of the city limits of Sunnydale, within a matter of a few minutes or so of each other. They would then be able to hook up at a preset rendezvous point, join forces, and complete their mission.
Hicks wasn't counting on everything going well. It never did.
The group waiting for them in the Temporal Resonance Chamber sent a crackle along his nerve endings, and straightened Hicks' spine with a snap. In the corner of his eye, he could see that it had the same effect on Geiger.
Not counting the several guest technical specialists and scientific geniuses, practically the Who's Who of Tech-Comm North America's scientific command staff was here, along with a few other notables.
Commander Seven, of course. Civilian Tech-Advisors Winifred "Fred" Burkle and Warren Mears. Plus assorted other lower ranked technical command staff. The only ones missing were Major Jonathan Levinson, and Commander Dawn Summers, and they were elsewhere on a different, unspecified mission.
Lieutenant General Wendie Sanders sent him an oblique glance, and said, "Glad to see you could make it, Master Tech-Sergeant." Her voice was amused, not chastising, and Hicks didn't take offense.
Couldn't really, even if the sight of her did make his heart jump and his breath nearly stop in his chest each and every single time.
Wendie Sanders had been incredibly lucky on the night of May 28, 2013. A stunt-woman and actress, she'd been on location in the north end of Central California's Big Valley working on some sort of film project when the nuclear air bursts had come down over Los Angeles at LAX, Los Angeles AFB in El Segundo, Longbeach, and Central L.A.. Somehow, MALCOLM's surprise launch had missed targeting Vandenberg...
Sanders had survived the Long Night of May 28 by taking charge of the security people, stunt people, and as many of the actors and crew as possible and leading them to the relative safe haven of an abandoned military base near Lake Tahoe... She'd survived the Long Dark in the days and months after by virtue of leading a handful of competent survivors to her family's vacation property outside of Boulder, Colorado. Her family, a husband and two children in Los Angeles, apparently hadn't been as lucky, nor as tenacious and resourceful. No trace of them had even been found.
The Resistance had been incredibly lucky as well, when she'd finally made contact with a strike group of the Irregulars' Second Scouts, and had been mistaken by them for someone completely different.
While not identical in appearance, Wendie Sanders looked as much like Cordelia Chase-Harris as it was possible for someone who wasn't an identical twin to do. Tech-Comm had not only gained a capable and driven soldier and then Commander, it had gained an invaluable resource.
Prior to Cordelia and Alexander Harris' deaths in 2023, Wendie's existence had helped cement Cordelia Chase as a legend, and as a boogie woman to the forces of MALCOM and ADAM II. Somehow, the Warrior Queen of the Resistance could manage to be in two places at once, to deadly effect. After 2023, when the retrieval team led by Beverly Sheridan, Kyle Jordan Reese, and two of Tech-Comm's independent operators had brought back Cordelia and Xander's charred bodies and the gleaming skull of the Harmony Kendall Bot that had killed them...
After 2023, General and Field Marshall Cordelia Chase-Harris and Tech-Commander Xander Harris-Chase had become immortal.
Shaking off the ever present disorientation that the semblance of his dead General caused, the corner of Hicks' mouth curled slightly in a smile.
"Well, ma'am, it is time travel," Hicks said, "I didn't figure a few minutes either way would matter much."
Geiger made a choking noise next to him, and Hicks knew he was struggling to keep a straight face and not elbow Hicks in the side. The fairly straitlaced Geiger had never quite managed to get past nor used to Hicks' borderline insouciance around the true upper command levels of Tech-Comm's higher echelons. While Hicks could be as military and precise as anyone, especially on an op, he'd long ago gotten comfortable with being at least mildly flippant and irreverent with the very highest ranks.
It was really the only way that Hicks could manage to cope with being around legends, constantly, and still do his job.
He'd saved the awe and deference for General Chase-Harris, and Tech-Commander Harris-Chase.
Besides, aside from Morgan Chase-Harris, and Kyle Reese Harris, all of the upper echelon were just about as informal as it was possible to get and still have and maintain discipline. It was kind of difficult to be a militarily precise hard ass around them all the time. Especially when months of training with and close contact had bred familiarity...
"Let's hope so," General Sanders said, nodding. "It'd be a shame to waste all of the valuable time and training we've poured into you over the last few months."
"Yes ma'am," Hicks said, nodding back.
Besides, Hicks had a commonality with Sanders that Geiger lacked.
Hicks had been a teenager in San Diego when the Long Night fell, and the missiles came down on Naval Base San Diego and the San Diego International Airport. He'd been lucky: he and his family lived on the outer southeastern edge of San Diego, practically out in the countryside, and at that time of morning, he and his sister had been home asleep.
Mom and Dad hadn't been as lucky. They'd both been historians and curators at the Maritime Museum of San Diego, down in San Diego Bay and not nearly far enough from the Naval Station. They'd also been pulling a very late nighter getting the Californian prepped and ready for a tall ship sailing class group...
While he hadn't met the older woman until after he'd met and joined the resistance, the shared survivor experience made for a certain bond.
An idle and treacherous part of Hicks' mind wondered how his little sister, Janine, was faring off in the no man's lands of Blackout Seattle with Hells-Gate Three and the Second Scouts...
"So, how does this work again?" Hicks asked, shaking off the irrelevant – and distracting – line of thought.
Turning her head, Seven gave him a raised eyebrow and a skeptical look. "I would have thought that after all these months, the principles involved would have been more than adequately explained by now."
"Well, yeah," Hicks said, nodding. "More than explained. Adequately? I'm not so sure."
"If that is indeed the case, then a last moment encapsulation will hardly improve your understanding," she said.
"But, but... it's you!" Hicks said, the corners of his lips twitching. "I trust your explanations more."
Seven stared at him, and then, after a long moment, a touch of actual warmth came to those blue-gray eyes along with a touch of softness to those chiseled and classically beautiful features. Hicks was glad to see it... it had been a long, long time since anything resembling actual human warmth had touched Seven. Maybe Warren got to see it, in private. Not any of the rest of them. Not often.
Not since 2023, when the heart and soul of the Resistance had fallen, and had taken a lot of the warmth and laughter away with them.
Xander Harris used to be able to tease Seven out from behind what he'd always called 'The Great Wall of Borg'. Sometimes through sheer absurdity, sometimes through sheer good natured persistence. And Cordelia Chase had been able to as well, generally with a dry application of well timed and aptly chosen sarcasm.
But Xander Harris and Cordelia Chase were long dead, along with too many others, and human warmth seldom touched those cool eyes or that perfect face any more.
Seven had always had a bit of a soft spot for Hicks, though...
"I see. Very well," Seven said, nodding abruptly.
"Oh boy!" Hicks bounced on his toes in front of her, grinning from ear to ear. "Please! Tell me a story Auntie Seven! You tell the bestest stories!"
Shaking her head almost imperceptibly, Seven said, "Once upon a time, and a long time ago, because that is the way that stories are supposed to begin... "
Stopping in his tracks, Hicks gaped at her momentarily.
Seven arched an eyebrow again. "We did have a holodeck on Voyager, at least in my other life. It was used, on occasion, to reenact what you would call 'fairy tales'."
"Ah. I see," Hicks said, nodding. "The momentary shock got to me. Carry on."
Fred let out a snicker that sounded involuntary, and clapped a hand over her mouth. Her eyes were wide and dancing behind her glasses as she watched the byplay. One of the guest scientists, Hicks could never remember his name, scowled and started to open his mouth –
Without looking or changing expression, Warren Mears drove an elbow sharply back into the man's side, under the floating ribs, and the wind went out of him with a quiet whoulf as he doubled over.
Not bothering, or possibly even deigning to notice the interactions, Seven kept her blue gray eyes locked on Hicks' blue ones.
"We were unable to duplicate the technology that MALCOLM and CAIN used to make the jumps transporting their operatives back into the time stream," she said. "The schematics and parameters that we were able to download from the command base at Black Mesa were incomplete. However, once the Command Sergeant here," she indicated Benjy with a nod, "And her team, as well as Hells-Gate One's teams sent to Seattle and Cheyenne Mountain returned, we were able to locate information and data leading us to the progenitors of MALCOLM's and Black Mesa's temporal project."
"Project Backstep, and Project Leapfrog," Hicks said, nodding. "And another one. All of which are still really just names to me." He grinned at her, adding, "I'm basically a commo and heavy ordnance and weapon systems tech remember? All of the particle physics and quantum mechanics stuff is still way over my head."
"Which would indicate that this recap is wasted as well," Seven said, her voice dry. "However... both Janeway and Tech-Commander Harris-Chase would have said that efforts to fortify morale are never truly wasted."
"The Tech-Commander was a wise man," Hicks said, deadpan.
"Heya, Hicksey," his partner said. "If your morale is still fucked at this point, we are so very screwed."
Both Hicks and Seven ignored him. "I will do my best to boil this down into layman's terms that even the intellectually challenged, such as a non-comm, can understand," Seven said, her eyes still glinting with something resembling a touch of merriment.
Ouch. Maybe raising the ghost of Seven's sense of humor wasn't such a good plan. He'd forgotten how acerbic it could be...
"Ooh rah," Hicks said, still deadpan. "Tech-sergeant struggle with big words, but muddle through."
Nodding, Seven said, "Project Backstep was designed to use a chronosphere and a temporal displacement field to transport someone physically back through time. But it had limitations as to how far into the past it could reach. Project Leapfrog was designed to transport a mental essence temporally, infusing it into a compatible physical shell and displacing the previous mental essence temporarily. It also had drawbacks... "
Drawbacks such as the fact that the only person who'd ever attempted to use it, its creator, had become lost in an endless sequence of Leaps into various bodies and time periods...
"And finally, Project Flashback, which achieved a similar effect, only without the chronosphere, and sans the seven day limitation," Seven stated.
"But with the limitation that only organic materials could be transported," Hicks said, nodding.
"Correct. Preferably, living organic tissue, for optimal results," Seven said. "We determined," 'we' meaning her, Warren, Jonathan, Fred Burkle, Dawn Summers, and Dr. Carlssin, Hicks knew, "That the Flashback method was the predominate technology in Black Mesa's and MALCOLM's efforts. With certain elements of Backstep technology and Leapfrog temporal theory used to fill in the gaps of the surviving theoretical data."
"Hypothetically, anyway, considering that we had to bug out with only partial downloads," Hicks said, nodding again. Hell, he'd been there on that retrieval mission to Hell... "and blow the facility to shreds behind us."
"Correct," Seven said. "However, with the data we were able to recover based on leads gained via those downloads, and others, and with the assistance of the personnel from the other two projects, we were able to successfully recreate a workable theory. The addition of my advanced knowledge of temporal physics and transporter technology was invaluable as well."
Heh. Not one for false modesty, Seven was. Not ever.
Then again, it was false modesty to downplay it when the reality of both the invaluable assistance and the alternate future knowledge, as well as the sharp intellect driving it, was a simple fact.
"As were the examples of bleeding edge technology, intact computer systems, and examples and schematics of previous attempts at achieving temporal machinery that the Event Group had stored within this facility," Seven said, continuing. "We were able to construct, first, a workable composite theory of temporal physics, and secondly, a workable design for a temporal transference unit based on an amalgamation of those design parameters."
"And how do we know for certain that we're being sent to the right place?" Hicks asked, scowling. "And time?"
"That, among select other parameters such as the precise nature of the enemy that you'll be facing, is something that we are certain of, Technical-sergeant," Seven said, her tone patient. "We not only managed to retrieve what we are more than reasonably certain are the temporal coordinates that MALCOLM's techs were using, but also the trace temporal resonance frequencies from the jump." At Hicks' raised eyebrows and inquiring look, she elaborated, "Temporal transitions leave a distinctive radiation trace that can be detected, measured, and recorded. I'm familiar enough with temporal mechanics and chronoton particle resonance from Voyager's experiences to be virtually certain that we're able to match the precise frequencies, even without having access to the identical technological– "
Holding up a hand, palm out, Hicks said, "I don't really need the theory behind it. Just so long as you can show the math, I know it's there."
"Very well," Seven said, her lips twitching slightly.
General and Commander Wendie Sanders cocked her head slightly, studying Hicks, and a faint scowl creased her forehead. Shaking her head, her lips curled up faintly at the corners and she said, "And amazingly, you do seem much more at ease, Master Tech-Sergeant."
"Hey, no offense to our guests," Hicks said, shrugging, "But I trust Seven, Fred, Warren, and the others. Workable from Seven's lips was what I was searching for. If she says it's workable, and she sounds and looks confident while saying it... " he shrugged again, "That's good enough for me."
And hey, yeah. Over the past six months off and on, he had gotten massive gluts of the technical details and theory behind the transfer, and the technology. More than he'd even wanted to bother trying to absorb. Before the Long Night, he'd been a brainy jock, not a sci-fi and physics geek.
He knew the theory and specs, at least in layman's language. He'd been wanting... well, familiar reassurance, he guessed. Like he'd said.
"And was my confidence sufficient to your needs, then, Technical Sergeant?" Seven said, her voice both curious and faintly amused.
"Never doubted you for a minute, Commander," Hicks said, smiling at her. He swept his gaze across the rest of the Resistance Technical and Scientific Command Group. "Any of you."
"Somehow, I'm doubting that," Fred Burkle drawled, her Texas peeking through just a bit. "Considering you looked as nervous as a wet cat when you first came in."
"Pre mission jitters," Hicks said, "That's all."
"Well, as long as they don't get in the way of doing the job, Sergeant," Commander Sanders said.
"Never have before, ma'am," Hicks said, his expression and tone suddenly serious. "One more quick question: whatever happened to Dr. Beckett?"
The various 'guest' scientists, Captain's Parker and Donovan, and Dr. Beeks exchanged glances, and shrugged, looking uncomfortable.
"We don't really know, Sergeant," Parker said, shrugging again. "Considering that he was caught up in a cascading Leap at the time that the Long Night fell and the bombs came down... "
Destroying the Project Leapfrog facility, Hicks finished for him, mentally. Meaning that the wandering Beckett had been either trapped in the past somewhere, or was still leaping from point to point with no guidance and backup, or else had been caught between leaps...
In which case his consciousness was either lost, stuck in some temporal limbo, or destroyed. Yuck.
"Well, let's hope that's not a precedent, then," Hicks said.
"It's a physical transfer, Hicks," Warren Mears said, speaking for the first time since Hicks' arrival, "Not a mental and spiritual one."
"Which sets my mind at no end of ease, Doctor Mears," Hicks said.
"So... is it time for us to discover who else is on the roster?" Geiger said, his voice carefully controlled to suppress traces of frustrated curiosity.
Hicks shared both, the frustration and the curiosity. They'd both known, obviously, that there were other teams and operatives. At least four of MALCOLM's agents had jumped out of Black Mesa's temporal lab before their assault had shut it down.
Who was on them and where they were headed was a closely guarded secret, though, even from each other. Everyone involved on that end, including Hicks and Geiger, were sequestered in different areas of the vast underground Event Group complex, and training and briefing times were staggered. None of the teams involved ever bumped into each other, at least that they knew of...
"You don't have a need to know that, Tech-Sergeant First," a familiar and commanding voice said.
Hicks and Geiger both snapped to rigid attention as Field Marshall and General of the Armies Morgan Chase-Harris and Tech-Commander Kyle Jordan Reese Harris entered the temporal lab.
"Sir!" Geiger said, snapping a salute. "Just my curiosity getting the best of me, sir."
"Oh, at ease, Sergeant," Kyle Reese drawled, looking mildly amused. "You wouldn't be human if you didn't have a certain amount of that."
"Just doesn't mean that it's going to be satisfied," Morgan said, nodding. "What you don't know, you can't give away."
"Sir, yes sir," Hicks said, relaxing into an at ease stance.
Didn't matter, anyway. They knew there were other teams and operatives. And other missions planned to send people back as prep teams to help pave the way for the future resistance and its formation.
They had already determined, Hicks had no idea how, that the Long Night and MALCOLM II couldn't be prevented via temporal means. Something to do with Hellmouth Cascade Resonance...
Or maybe with Hitler's Time Travel Exemption Effect, for all of him.
Commander Reese-Harris and Field Marshall Chase-Harris' android bodyguards fell into position nearby, and assumed the unnatural stillness that passed for relaxed stances in both of them. Weapons at high ready, two sets of human appearing mechanical eyes swept the surroundings in precise increments, flickering emotionlessly from person to person in their range of vision.
Hicks suppressed an involuntary shudder. While he, along with the majority of the Resistance, had no particular prejudices toward anyone within the Alliance – he worked regularly with non-humans of most descriptions, more than a few allied demons, various half breeds, and others – he really didn't care for reprogrammed Terminators. Didn't trust them, no matter who did the reprogramming. Not trusting Terminators and not giving them a chance to get close – or even into line of sight – was ingrained deep into his blood and bones by now.
And while he wasn't, couldn't possibly be a technophobe, not and do his job, he didn't care much for the Resistance's own anti-Terminators, either. Or really, any of the sentient, semi-sentient, or programmed robots, androids, and cybernetic organisms that Mears, Seven, and Burkle had come up with over the years.
A.L.I.C.E., an acronym for 'Artificial Living Intelligence Cybernetic Entity', and A.P.R.I.L.: 'Analytical Positronic Reasoning Intelligent Lifeform (Simulation)', were Warren Mears' and Seven's first and oldest answers to the problem of an anti-Terminator response. Twenty-years after the fall of the Long Night, they were still the very best of those responses, they and all of their siblings. Hardened circuitry, positronic brains, flexible learning routines, and mimicry ability and all, they were capable of rendering themselves virtually indistinguishable from human in both appearance and mannerisms. Whenever they chose, at least...
Generally, when on full alert and on bodyguard duty, they didn't always choose, and it was then that their inhuman nature and sheer alienness was most apparent. Such as now, when looking at them was like taking a guided tour of the uncanny valley...
Morgan Chase-Harris' two android bodyguards made him uncomfortable. One of the reprogrammed Terminators gave him the sheer creepy feeling down the spine willies. He would have been glad to see all three of them absented, not merely the captured and reprogrammed Xander Harris model T-888 that was Wendie Sanders' bodyguard and nearly constant companion...
There were those among the Resistance that speculated that Commander Sanders and the T-888H kept up the masquerade and appearances even in private and behind closed doors, with all that that entailed. Hicks wasn't one of them, and no one speculated on it out loud around him.
Not more than once, anyway.
The fact of ALICE and APRIL being here and on guard spoke volumes. It meant that Erin Whittaker and Ashley Cauldwell, Morgan Chase-Harris and Kyle Jordan Reese's normal Slayer bodyguards were elsewhere and out on mission with their teams. Somewhere, some unlucky elements of MALCOLM's forces were coming up against the sharp end of Whittaker's Wild Bunch and Cauldwell's Carnivores. A pity, that.
Erin and Ashley were not only two of the Slayers called during the Mass Awakening in the Fall of Sunnydale, but they were two of the four deadliest beings that Hicks personally knew of. Lack of tech bigotry or no, he'd much rather have had them here, and ALICE and APRIL elsewhere.
Slayers didn't give him the cold shivers along the spine.
"Time?" Kyle said, turning to Fred and Mears, and Hicks dismissed thoughts of the two androids from his mind.
"Nine minutes and thirty, Commander," Fred said, nodding. She turned to her console, frowning at it. "All systems nominal, all systems powered. We are a go."
"Let's do it then," Morgan said, giving Hicks and Geiger a crisp nod.
Stripping down to skin quickly, both men handed their clothing and effects off to a tech and moved toward the temporal chamber. Neither Hicks nor Geiger hesitated in stripping down in front of the assembled scientists, officers, and techs: modesty didn't last long in the Resistance. Major Sheridan and Major Blake followed, both of their eyes carefully scanning the two men for anything overlooked that might cause an issue.
Pulling the chain with his dog tags over his head, Hicks handed them to Benjy Sheridan. "Make sure that Hayden gets these, will ya?" he said, "And tell her... tell her I'll be back."
The Mercenaries' Toast. Everyone comes back. It's a hope, not a promise.
Even if it wasn't true, it was a polite fiction. And everything else had already been said.
"Will do, Sergeant," Beverly said, nodding. Cool gray eyes met and locked with Hicks' blue ones, and she bumped her fist against his. "Last words?" she asked, and the gray eyes crinkled with a hint of amusement. "Final minute bad ass boast?"
That same hint of amusement touched his own, matching the twitch of a smile ghosting across his lips, and he shook his head. Naw. He'd already passed command of the Harriers over to Hayden, as Hardesty had long ago passed them to him. Nothing more to be done or said.
And if it gave lie to the 'everyone comes back', then what of it? Sometimes the polite fictions are the only important ones.
"Naw." That ghost of a smile touched and lingered a moment, and Hicks gave her a slight shake of the head and a miniscule eyebrow raise. "Don't need to boast. I just am that badass."
Benjy snickered softly, and nodded. "Get 'er done, Hicks."
"Do the job, Benjy," Hicks said, bumping hers back.
She stepped back and away as Hicks stepped into the area of the chronosphere, and dropped to one knee on the platform. Resting his weight on the ball of his other foot and his right fist, his left hand went automatically to the small leather folder on its thong around his neck.
He flipped it open for one last minute quick look at the pair of photos inside, and then shut it, and brought it to his lips before letting it hang again.
Talismans and rituals. If a military doesn't have them, then soldiers will invent their own...
Supposedly, the polymimetic life field mimicking organic polymer coating that Fred had invented to cover the folder and its precious contents would enable it to make the jump as well, without issues. Hicks hoped so.
And he never had gotten a satisfactory answer to why the same coating couldn't be successfully applied to a 40 megawatt M41-A3, or a 90 megawatt blast rifle.
Morgan and Seven came over in the last minutes as he closed his hand over the folder again, preparing himself mentally for the jump.
"Good luck, Sergeant," Morgan Chase-Harris said. "I won't state that you and your partner have the most critical of all of the missions, but it is critical."
Meaning: critical to the formation of the entire Resistance. Critical to the survival of Morgan's own parents. Back to the very beginning...
Critical to Morgan Chase-Harris' own birth, as a matter of fact.
"No pressure, sir," Hicks said, nodding. "I'll get 'er done."
Nodding, Morgan stepped away, and moved over to the other sphere platform to murmur a few words to Geiger.
Hicks glanced up at Seven, who was busily giving him a last moment once over with some sort of scanner. "So, will it hurt?"
He hated that he suddenly sounded like a kid asking mom for reassurance at the doctor's office...
She glanced sidelong at him, away from her readouts. "Would you prefer a comforting lie, or the uncomfortable truth?"
"The truth, ma'am."
Seven nodded, her blue gray eyes remote again. "There will undoubtedly be some discomfort, that you will probably experience as pain."
"That's reassuring," Hicks said, smiling faintly.
"It will pass, Sergeant," Seven said. "Remember: it will pass." Pausing for a long moment, she added, "I also wish to add my desire for your and Sergeant Geiger's good fortune."
"Thanks. We'll get 'er done, ma'am."
Giving him a crisp nod, Seven moved to Geiger, to scan him as well. The outer shell of the chrono-sphere closed over him, and he lost sight of her, Geiger, the lab, and everything else in the sphere's inner darkness.
Long moments later, the crackling blue-white energy of the temporal displacement field swept over the sphere's inner surface. Then it pulsed, once, and cascading energies seemingly tore him apart and swept him away.
Some discomfort my narrow military ass, Seven...
Friday, October 31, 1997: Downtown Sunnydale near East Lemon and 5th Street, Evening 5:30pm –
The blue-white haze cleared from his vision and the searing, wrenching, twisting and near infinite tearing sensation of the temporal shift finally ended. Jeezus Kee-rist!
They hadn't told him that a temporal leap would last damned near forever. Of course, it couldn't have, really – that was the point, supposedly. Here now, there then. Only transition, no duration. So it really couldn't have been an endless frozen moment of soundless screaming and twisting, gut wrenching eternity. They hadn't told him it would hurt so damned much, either.
Some discomfort his buck naked ass, Seven.
Technical Sergeant Dwayne Hicks, Tech-Comm, Central North American Resistance Command, Serial Number: TZE08191221-51612, specialist in Combat Technologies and Heavy Weapons, Communications, Demolitions and Improvised Destructive Devices, and expert in Infiltration, Foraging, and Search and Destruction, looked around himself.
If everything had gone well, he was in Sunnydale, California, in the near past of just over three decades ago.
Permanently.
The thing that everyone at that final briefing and prep for the jump had silently acknowledged, but no one had spoken aloud.
One way or another, win or lose, survive or die, this was a one way trip. The only way he was going back to the future, at least that he was aware of, was the hard way. By living to see it.
Either his actions here in the past would be successful, and he would save the future by saving the future leaders and mother and father of the Resistance and of Tech-Comm Command. Or, he'd fail, and the Terminator that had come back in the slightly older and modified guise of one of the self-same future leader's former classmates would kill them, wiping out that future.
Or neither would occur. The very best guesses and theories by the very best minds that the Resistance had to offer leaned heavily toward the multiple worlds branch of temporal physics: that important events created branching time lines stemming off from certain cusp events in history. Decision trees.
In which case, he wouldn't save his future. He'd save or lose the future of the time line he'd created by virtue of his arrival here.
He'd also save or lose the lives of the two people critical to the future of both world lines...
Hicks couldn't help a shiver of anticipation laced with unaccustomed nervousness that raced along his spine and his nerve endings.
He, Master Technical Sergeant Dwayne Hicks, was about to meet and interact with Alexander Harris and Cordelia Chase, creators, builders, and leaders of Tech-Comm and the Resistance. Way, way back before they ever became leaders, or warriors, or soldiers. Before they ever became living legends...
And he was going to be an integral part of that early history, and that metamorphosis for both of them.
Wow. Heady stuff for a former wanna be quarterback and teenage extreme sports fan from San Diego turned guerrilla fighter.
And, which it was didn't matter, really, just as long as he succeeded. Tech-Comm was, slowly but surely, winning the war against the machines. And with over ten million human beings off of Earth and establishing technological civilizations on both Pylea, and on their other extra-dimensional redoubt, code named 'Pellucidar', humanity's survival was assured.
Plus, there was the other iron in the fire that no one talked about, or even thought about if they could help it, and that Command only knew the true details on. What you didn't think about, the enemy couldn't think of either. Know it and believe it.
MALCOLM and CAIN's days were numbered anyway. Hicks didn't know what it was – only a very select few did – but there was a plan in effect that would destroy and rid them of MALCOLM forever, when it went off.
One way or another, humanity was not going into that Long Night. Not quietly, and not at all.
But that didn't mean that Hicks intended to fuck up and let his two personal heroes, Alexander Harris and Cordelia Chase get terminated. No way.
Not again, and not in this timeline. Not happening.
Okay. Enough maundering and wool gathering, Hicks. You have people to see, and things to kill.
Thing, anyway. But one of them was more than enough.
A quick check assured him that the small folder with the two photos of Cordelia Chase-Harris, and Alexander Harris-Chase had both made the jump and survived the transition. Thankfully. And good. They'd been a part of him for way, way too long for him to want to lose them now.
Time to move.
Just over seventeen minutes later, he had acquired clothing, a vehicle, and weapons courtesy of a pair of Sunnydale County deputies, and was on his way.
Technical Sergeant First Elston Geiger wasn't at the prearranged rendezvous point. Master Tech-Sergeant Dwayne Hicks never learned what became of him, and never saw him again.
Thirteen minutes after that, he was seated at the bar of a local teen club called 'The Bronze' watching one of his subjects and wondering how to approach her. Wondering as well how, or if, he was going to be able to locate his other subject.
And wondering where the Terminator Model T-101L was at that moment, what it was doing, and who it was terminating.
Just over an hour and thirty five minutes later, he would be discovering that something had gone badly, drastically, disastrously wrong with the Backstep process. And he wouldn't have a single clue one what to do about that, or if anything even could be done...
.