Chapter 1- "'Gonna take a little trip"
There are no desperate situations, there are only desperate people.
-Heinz Guderian
Lieutenant Colonel Jeffery Goldman, Tech-Com, and late of the United States Army, made his way through the warren-like underground of the "HQ Main" of John Connor's Tech-Com army. It had come a long way from a decade ago, when John had been fighting Skynet along a classic guerilla model. Now, they were taking ground, and holding it. The machines didn't venture out at night as much. If it wasn't a machine, Jeffery would swear Skynet was afraid.
He smiled at that, Well, it's supposed to be a self-aware creature, I wonder if it can know fear? If so, I hope like hell it's afraid.
Goldman continued on, and took the salutes of several Tech-Com personnel and then came to the checkpoint in front of Connor's personal end of HQ main.
The guard stopped him, with his partner covering him, and smiled at Goldman. "Identification, Sir".
Goldman fished into the left pocket of his BDU jacket for his identification papers, and handed them gingerly to the guard.
"Goldman, DN991452"
The guard turned to his partner, who had been covering Goldman with his plasma rifle the whole time, with a leashed dog whimpering nearby. "He on the list?"
His partner glanced at a clipboard dangling from a nail with a list of names to be admitted to Connor's inner sanctum "Yeah, he's on it, his papers check out?"
The first guard gave them another glance, and then Goldman, repeating this pocess at least twice more before he was satisified. "Yep, he's good, and he's not a tin can, or Berite would be going frigging nuts." handing Goldman back his papers, "Sorry sir, can't be too careful, we've had the damn toasters try twice this month." After handing back his papers, both men rendered rifle salutes, which were returned by Goldman.
"I'd feed that dog, soldier, it's as much a friend as your rifle, and it spots Terms better than we do." Goldman growled, putting a bit more menace into his voice than he had intended, but Goldman always had a soft spot for dogs.
The first guard nodded, "Yes sir, we feed her what we get, but nobody here at HQ Main eats that well, I suspect neither do you, sir."
Goldman nodded, he hadn't wanted to hear that, but sadly, unlike most guerilla armies, capturing food from Skynet was not in the cards. Jokes about "Ratburger sandwiches, now with real rat!" were commonplace.
With his bonafides established, the second guard tripped a switch and a bell sounded, letting the entire complex know that the main entrance to Connor's wing was being opened. It was another security feature and added to the seeming paranoia.
Goldman stepped through once the door was open wide enough to do so, and was met by his aide, an needle-thin Asian 1LT by the name of Wu, or at least that's what his nametape said.
"Colonel Goldman, General Connor has been expecting you, um, sir, I'm going to need your sidearm and mapcase."
"What the fuck, Lieutenant? Do you know who the fuck I am, you have the nerve to ask me for my sidearm?"
"I'm sorry sir, orders from General Baum sir, we've had two infiltrators get into the secure wing, and one got past the dogs, sir."
Goldman sighed in exasperation. "Alright Lieutenant". Goldman hefted his prized .45 from it's holster, and thumbed the magazine catch with practiced ease, catching the magazine deftly, and then racked the slide back to remove the chambered round, he then handed the pistol and magazine to the Lieutenant, along with his mapcase.
"Take good care of my sidearm, Lieutenant, we have a history."
The Lieutenant dropped both into a box on a nearby table where a bored-looking guard was watching the hall. Goldman grimaced, No wonder Connor almost got kacked, and the damn guard force is a bunch of pogues!
"Um, sir, do you know where General Connor's quarters are?"
"I know the way Lieutenant, been here before."
"Very well sir, I have some other matters to attend to, please stop by the security desk to pick up your sidearm and mapcase when you leave."
"Will do, Lieutenant."
Goldman made his way down the hall, the heels of his combat boots clicking against the wet floor, Where the fuck was Cameron, and who the fuck was this officious idiot?
Goldman had spent much time in this wing when he was simply Major Goldman, one of the few pre-war officers on Connor's G-3 staff. He'd needed every one of them, back in the bad old days; they'd had their hands full just getting the army to act like one, and not just a rabble with uniforms and guns that Skynet referred to as a "minor human infestation".
He'd help create this mess, and the Resistance main-force battalions which were now giving Skynet all kinds of trouble. He was more proud of the latter than the former, as such, he came to a very familiar door, and he noted music playing behind it. Chopin, Uh-oh, another idea I am going to have to talk John out of. Hope this isn't another Denver.
Connor played Chopin when he was running down an idea; he often said it helped him focus. Often, it did, but it had been Goldman's job, among others, early on, to talk John out of some of the crazier ones. Gotta admire his spirit though, and I do like the guy.
With that thought, Goldman picked up a piece of concrete placed near the door as a doorknocker and banged on the door three times. "Open up, somebody in there owes me money!" Goldman shouted the mirth evident in his voice.
A shout rang back "Screw you! Everybody knows you cheat!"
Goldman barked a laugh: Vintage John.
The door opened with a creak, the metal fire door opening to a room of spartan comforts. There was a Coleman Lantern, a field desk and a salvaged dresser and a futon in the corner. Though, as a small concession to the "boss", the futon was roomy enough for two.
And there, in the middle of the room, craggy features weathered by hardship and war, his green eyes twinkling with mischief, yet torn by pain, and war weary, stood John Connor, the "Hammer of Mankind".
"So, Jeff, hear you've been sending plenty of 'cans to the great junkheap in the sky?"
Goldman smiled and grabbed John in a bear hug, then smiled as he let go. "Sure have, stacking Terms like firewood. I do wish Skynet did wanted posters, it's not the same unless you have a price on your head, like Anbar."
John laughed "You ain't worth a pile of pocket lint, and I have an offer from a girl's school to pay you to stay away. You old lech!"
"Ugh, so, John?" Goldman grimaced, as he pulled up a camp stool. "Why the fuck did you take my battalion away, sir? Please tell me you're not going to send me down to Mexico and have me ride herd on your mom training the new kids up. I mean, I love training young soldiers, sir...but your mom is a handful."
John smiled; he'd remembered the contentious debates between Major Goldman and Sarah Connor, once Cameron had had to keep Goldman from slugging Sarah when she had suggested a frontal assault on a Skynet work camp that was a pretty obvious lure. Sarah, confessedly, had a blind spot when it came to those.
"No, Jeff, actually, I'm sending you back. Back in time to be exact."
"Uh sir, have you been drinking some of General Baum's "select label", sir? You know many of those grapes are "alleged" and I swear folks have gone blind, sir."
"No, Colonel Goldman, we overran one of Skynet's little projects near here about six months ago. We always knew Skynet was into some wacky ideas, but this...well, its interesting." handing Goldman a red folder, with the words "White Lamp" stamped on it.
"Look, Jeff, here's the thing. I know this is nuts, but read the information in the folder, it includes your orders. Cameron, she's already gone back, so have some others. But here's the trick. Skynet has sent back terminators to kill me at various points in my life. It's how I knew all this was coming. Jeff, that's where you come in, Mom, and later, Uncle Derek, they teach me a lot, but I need something more. I need the skills a general would need. And I can't learn them on the job; we saw how well that worked in Denver. I need my best to go back, I need you. You have a masters in Military History, taught at the Army War College before Judgement Day and pre-Judgement Day combat experience. You're it, sorry."
Goldman grimaced Jeez, this is gonna be nuts. "Shit, sir, when you put it that way, how in the hell am I gonna say no? Just one thing, when are you sending me back to?"
"2008, and Goldman, one other thing, there's a secondary mission, something I want you to see to, but I want it done, well, with tact. But it's voluntary. It's all in the folder."
"When do I leave?"