Foreword:
Alright, so the second chapter is here. The translation is actually coming faster then i expected, as i'm slowly getting the hang of it.
Hopefully, You won't be dissapointed in how the story is turning out. Be advised though, this chapter might be a bit hard on You in some places. You'll know what i mean when You reach them.
Thanks to all who responded with reviews and comments. My work is really paying off, thanks to You. I'll do my best to keep You entertained until the end.
As a clarification, italic text in whole sections of the story means that it's a memory.
* Chapter II *
The sky was beautiful. Deep blue, like an aquamarine, only in two places streaked with white stripes of completely harmless clouds. Under it, children playing in a juicy, green grass. A pair – a boy and a girl, probably siblings, considering the family resemblance. The girl was picking up flowers, the boy ran around her, screaming in joy with arms wide stretched, as if they were wings. A little bit farther a woman, most probably their mother was doing laundry in a clear mountain stream that reflected the sky like a mirror. The work looked hard, yet the woman's face was adorned with a smile. She was clearly happy.
Who would've thought., John sighed, turning away from the picture hanging on his wall. Who would've thought that a painting by some provincial artist would be my solitary window on the old world, after several decades.
He sighed hard. Nowadays, that place, once so acurately captured by the painter, was probably a part of wasteland, like almost everything else. He didn't want to think about the childrens' fate.
John moved to his desk and dropped into the armchair. He then picked up a crumpled piece of paper and watched it in silence, turning in his fingers from time to time.
"Beware of false prophets", he read once more, mumbling under his nose, "who come disguised as harmless sheep but are really vicious wolves."
"Bible, St. Mathew 7:15,16. Incomplete.", said Cameron from the door, in her typical tone of a cyborg quoting a dictionary.
He was so absorbed that he didn't even see when she entered. Of course, the fact that she liked moving as quietly as a hunting cat sometimes didn't help in a possible detection, but still, usually he had to worry about the exact opposite of not noticing her.
"Yes, you mentioned that already.", he smiled, his eyes not moving from the paper however, "and i already know you don't sleep, too.", he added, as she was starting to open her mouth again.
She hesitated for a moment, as if he threw her out of balance with that comment, somehow, and then tilted her head slightly.
"You're worried.", she stated more then asked, moving closer and taking a seat at the edge of his desk.
"Yes, Cam.", he sighed, moving a hand over his face, "I am."
"Because of this?", she pointed at the paper.
"A psychopath, quoting bible and murdering our mechanical allies is the last thing we need.", he answered bitterly, "Psychopaths and fanatics are dangerous enough when they aren't following the will of the people."
She seemed to analyze his words for a while.
"You're worried he'll inspire others.", Cameron put the heart of his fears out into the open.
"I'm worried he already did.", he sighed tiredly. "It's really hard to believe that one man could have carried a heavy endo through two big caves, without drawing any attention from anyone. Someone must have seen him. Or..."
"Or he wasn't alone.", she nodded her head. "A group, or support from someone powerful enough to cover his tracks. An officer."
"We think alike.", he stated after a while.
"Yes. We think alike.", she agreed willingly.
The man stood up, straightened then proceed to move nervously back and forth, from one wall of his office to the other. His companion's vigilant eyes observed him all the time, her head moving slightly with him.
"He left no traces in the machine room, no evidence.", he resumed after a while, still marching, "No one had seen him. We know, however, that he's probably religious and we know..."
"We know what he wants.", she interrupted, reading his mind again.
"Yes." he answered in a quieter, more tired voice, "We know what he wants."
The cyberg got up, going straight to the door. Then she stopped for a moment, looking at him over her shoulder.
"I'll let lieutenant Larson know you want all likely targets observed and i'll tell Savanna we would like to talk with her in the evening."
That's so totally Cam, he thought. She didn't waste time waiting for him to speak, she started acting faster then he could form the words, knowing what they were going to be anyway. Efficient and direct as always. One of the reasons i... like her so much.
"Yes.", he agreed with a smile, involuntarily looking at the line of her neck, the way her hair waved over her shoulders when she moved her hand to open the door... Eh... i should stop doing that to myself, he scolded himself. Aloud though, he added. "And one more thing. This young private..."
"Craig.", she prompted helpfully, "Private Liam Craig."
"Yes, him. Please tell him i would like to see him too. Today at 7 pm."
"Alright, John.", she nodded, "We'll meet at the Memorial?"
The man sighed once more, moving his hand over his face.
"Yes.", he whispered. "Sarah's waiting for us."
The tall, powerfully built man worked tirelessly. Cleaning weapons was not only his everyday ritual, it was also his pleasure. Weapons were simple, they had one purpose and they served man. They existed for him. Everything should be like that. He liked his weapon. A solid, old work, invented and build by humans, not like all those plasma toys stolen from the enemy. He knew it wouldn't fail him.
His massive forearms moved swiftly and without any unnecessary actions, tattooed rosaries glistening in the light. When he cleaned all of the fragments, he started to carefully put them back together. Finally, when his work was finished the man smiled and looked over his work with attention. Perfect.
It was a good day yesterday, he thought, putting the ammo magazine in place with a characteristic click. The metal beast lays dead, the Lord's Word sounded loudly over the whole cave like a choir of angels.
Now, it was time for the second verse.
It was probably the most beautiful place in the whole base. Years ago, before Judgement Day, when the mine was still open for visitors as a museum, this cave was one of the selling points. Now, after all the years, you could still see why always-busy people of the ending 20th and beginning 21st centuries still could have wanted to stop here, if for just a little while.
Everywhere around, there were salt sculptures. They were made by nature and each was different, each unique. A person with a big enough imagination could probably see almost everything in them. Some saw faces, others flowers or animals, others still, things that made completely no sense, abstract designs, alien, yet still beautiful. For all of them though - the island full of sculptures, stalagmites and stalactites, surrounded by deep blue-green water that was subtly lit by electric light from below, causing it to throw reflections all over the room - for all of them, it was breathtaking.
Yes, it was a beautiful place. That's exactly why it was chosen.
John Connor understood his people, understood their needs. He knew, better then most, that the war was a cruel mistress, requiring huge sacrifices in blood from its servants. He knew the pain of loss and he knew how it felt, not being able to give your loved ones a real funeral, not having a place for their remembrance, a place to visit on the anniversary of their death. During war, however he couldn't possibly risk the living for the dead. They tried to take those who fell to the enemy with them to give them a proper farewell, whenever they could. More often then not, however, this choice was made for them by the situation.
That's why, in the middle of the room, there was something that at first sight didn't fit there in any way. Huge, almost 9 feet tall block of black marble. Large part of it was already covered in small letters.
Mourning notes.
A remembrance for every fallen soldier, every single resident of the base who died serving humanity's cause. It wasn't much, really, just a short note for each of them: a name, dates of birth and death and a few words of description. sometimes not even that.
But it was still much more then any of his men expected.
Looking at this, Sarah Connor would've said that each time he wonders why his soldiers would follow his lead to hell and back, he's being a fool, because he should just come here and look at the Memorial and he'd have his answer.
Looking at her name, written high there in the stone, John could almost hear her speaking those words exactly.
"Sarah Connor, 1965-2026
Beloved Mother, Friend and Teacher"
...said the note engraved in the dark stone.
The Centaur was towering over the battlefield. Powerful, more then 30 feet tall monstrosity crushed under its tracks almost everything it drove over, its steel arms throwing away everything it couldn't crush. At the top, a pseudo-head equipped with all kinds of different sensors was looking for its target tirelessly.
Connor cursed obscenely under his breath. He was coming back from a meeting with heads of almost all cells of the resistance in the region, when his convoy ran right into a Centaur, along with a hunting party of smaller machines. He didn't know whether it was a coincidence or some Gray was involved, but he'd put his money on the latter. He just couldn't believe his reconnaissance would fuck things up this much. Whichever it was, though, they were fucked. His men were scattered, trying to fight off the enemy and at the same time evade being evaporated by the behemoth which, in turn, was aimed almost exatly at John's little trio, hidden in the ruins around them.
Even its primitive, limited AI recognized his face without fail, instantly matching it to his name in its database and aquiring him as a primary target. He heard a bolt of plasma hitting the building near him, just 10 feet or so away, literally evaporating one of the walls. Seconds later a loud shriek of breaking metal came, accompanied closely by the roar of crashing stones, when the whole building broke like a house of cards.
We won't last long like this., John thought.
He saw his mother, hidden behind some rubble nearby and right beside him, he felt Cameron's presence. Problem was, neither of them could really be considered a threat to the titanic Skynet tank. There was only one tactic known to him they could use in this situation. However, it required... it required something he wasn't willing to give.
And then he saw his mother rising slowly. He captured her eyes burrowing into his own and felt a cold shiver running down his spine.
This time the choice might not be mine, he suddenly realized, terror griping his heart.
Sarah looked at him for a little while longer, her eyes telling more then any words could ever have, and then she shifted her gaze to Cameron and said something, which John couldn't have possibly heard from that distance.
Then she jumped from her cover like a flying arrow.
The man started too, trying to scream, but suddenly something pinned him to the earth with a murderous strenght. A deceptively delicate hand covered his mouth.
"No, John.", he heard a quiet voice, brown eyes holding his own and time seemed to stop in place. He felt her hair tickling him when she lowered her face. They looked at each other for what seemed an eternity and then something mysterious slowly crossed her features, a grimace he couldn't really name. For a moment she seemed to fight a silent battle inside, a conflict of imperatives in her own, cybernetic mind. Then, she surprised him completely.
"I'll do it.", she said simply and then she was gone.
Sarah Connor ran. Despite having seen fifty two springs already, her youth way behind her, she's never ran as fast as she was running now. Her son's life depended on her legs. And head. But mostly legs. Whole humanity depended on them.
She stopped for a moment, firing a few rounds from her plasma rifle right into the steel titan. The shots didn't do much harm, its armour was way too thick for that, but that wasn't what they were meant to do anyway.
"Hey!", she screamed at the top of her lungs, firing once more to further stress her words. "You metal motherfucker! Here!"
Seeing his body turning in her direction she broke into a determined run once more. She knew she would be his target now. Her name was still on Skynet's black list.
John looked in shock as his defender moved faster and faster, in just a few second gaining a blinding speed that no human could ever match. After running several feet the cyborg bounced off a broken concrete plate and jumped to almost twice her height, shooting several rounds of plasma right at the left side of the centaurs head while still in air. She landed on her feet with grace, rolling over her shoulder only to keep the accumulated speed and started a pursuit after Sarah who, while much slower, had a serious advantage of distance. While running she fired one more round at the monster, trying unsuccessfully to get his attention.
John knew that the 250D hunter tank's plasma cannon was as dangerous to her as to anyone else. He knew that if he won't act fast, he might loose both of them. He feared that so much he was surprised to find himself still thinking.
He broke into a run, jumping from his own hiding place, perhaps not as dynamically as Cameron, but still at the limit of his own capabilities. The cyborg's round destroyed the sensors on the behemoth's left side and he knew it wasn't a coincidence. Thanks to that, he was effectively blinded to anything that happened this side of his monstrual shape. Not the other side, though, where both my crazy mother and Cameron are running.
John crashed into the centaur, jumping and grabbing above the still moving tracks. For a moment he was afraid that the impact force would drag him underneathth but he managed to pull himself up, somehow, using his hands and legs to climb onto the metal monster, almost loosing his balance in the process. He heard it fire one shot after the other but didn't let himself think about the possible consequences of that fact.
Moving behind the pseudo-humanoid torso of the cybernetic tank, he detached three thermal detonators from the container on his thigh and crouched down to pin them, one after the other, under the plates of its armour. It took him what seemed like ages, because to maximize the damage he couldn't put them in one place.
When all three were set, he took a running start and jumped off the beast, hitting the ground hard. He shook his head, trying to overcome a slight daze and broke into a run, determined to increase the distance between himself and the machine as fast as possible. Finally, after about 40 feet he reached a pile of rubble and hid behind a concrete plate, taking the detonator out.
There were no big words, no holywood last minute bullshit, no "yupicayey muthafucka" or the like. He just pushed the button, hearing the metal monster firing one more salvo before the explosion's roar filled his ears.
Her heart beat like a drum, body slowly giving up. She had severe burns on her back and one arm was probably broken, but she was still running. I'm too old for this..., crossed her mind. Despite her own opinion though, she managed to - in what seemed like a complete miracle - evade three salvos from the centaur's double cannons, so far. When she started running she was quite sure it would get her by the second at best.
In the corner of her eye she saw Cameron running towards her, also noticing her son jumping off the 250D's colossal shape.
Why the fuck is she running here, Sarah thought frantically, I thought i gave her an order...
And right then, she suddenly felt her left feet twisting because of some damn rubble and lost her balance. If she wasn't so tired, she probably would've managed to control her body, but she was and it decided it had enough of this deathly marathon.
She crashed heavily into the ground, the impact throwing air out of her lungs.
When, trying to get up, she saw the barrel of a plasma cannon pointed her way in the distance, Sarah already knew it was her last run. She looked one last time at her son, hiding behind some rubble. Her dear, strong, brave son. Alive. Still alive.
The cannon fired, bright death moving towards her.
She had just enough time left to smile blissfully, hearing an explosion and straightening the middle finger of her right hand.
And then, the darkness came.
He didn't know how long he was lying under the rubble. The explosion toppled the plate he was hiding behind, crashing it on top of him. He almost paid the ultimate price for his recklessness. He know it was worth it, though, as he didn't hear even one cannon shot after the explosion. He was only worried if he made it on time.
Finally, he heard a crackle, like a stone being crushed and a few seconds later he saw the plate moving up, showing a vision of an injured Cameron's face. Half of her head was drastically burned, showing the metal underneath in some places. It's not a direct hit..., he observed with relief, she woudln't be here then. Probably just some melted stone.
A while later, however, when no one else seemed to appear in her vicinity he felt something crushing his heart like a cramp, his relief washing away like a dream.
"Sarah...?", he asked weakly.
Cameron looked into his eyes and shook her head slightly.
"I'm sorry, John.", she answered. "I wasn't fast enough."
Throwing away a piece of rubble she was holding she looked at her hands and he could've sworn she shivered slightly.
"I'm sorry John.", she repeated, dropping her head. "I'm sorry for your loss."
A delicate touch of a hand on his shoulder brought him back from the world of painful memories. He covered her hand with his own, looking over his shoulder and smiling at her, before he turned back.
"I miss you, Mom.", he whispered, looking at the marble block and feeling tears welling in his eyes. "More then you'll ever know."
The girl at his side came closer, kneeling near the memorial and placing a small piece of paper at its base. A mourning note. She did this every year, every 17th march, a custom she learned many, many years ago. John didn't knew what she wrote on them, he never asked. In some twisted way, despite this being his mother's grave, and her being a cyborg, it seemed too personal to inquire about.
He knew, that in a few days everything lying here would be carefully gathered and burned, as an offering to those it was meant for.
From the logical point of view, this made leaving anything here pointless. It was all the more fascinating, that she still did this every year despite that fact.
"Come, Cam.", he said quietly. "We've got a lot of work to do."
She stood up, nodding her head with a smile and they moved to the exit without a single word.
Tension at the table was so thick, you could probably cut it with a knife like a birthday cake, despite that though, Connor was having a good time, when he rested his back against the armchair observing his guests. A small smile danced on his lips, eyes bright with mirth.
To his right, as always, sat Cameron. Her face was completely emotionless, only eyes watching everything vigillantly. Like a beautiful, watchful sculpture, right from under the chisel.
To his left sat a very beautiful woman in her thirties, perhaps. Her long, wavy hair was gold-red, and her brown eyes housed a wild spark of intellect. Face, currently resting on her palms, had a classic beauty to it, fitting with the alabaster-white skin.
Savannah Weaver was the object of admiration for nine out of ten men in Carey. Beautiful, unmarried woman who spent her days teaching small children, while still having the time to care for the memorial and the chapel. She tried to listen to everyone, placing words like a balsam on people's souls when she felt they needed it, or just listened to them, holding their hands when silence seemed more appropriate. She was like an angel.
What they don't know, Connor thought looking at her, is that she's also my chief psychologist and probably the very best spy in this base. It was largely thanks to this woman, that he managed to keep his hand on the pulse of the whole "Undermountain".
The last person present and, at the same time, the main reason for John's amusement was private Liam Craig. The boy looked as if he didn't know where to hang his eyes. Lacing his fingers nervously through his hair he darted his eyes endlessly from the great saviour of mankind sitting opposite to him to the frightening, yet unquestioningly attractive cyber-killer, in his imagination forever linked to the image of ballet shoes, and finally, to Savannah, the ideal woman desired by every man from his squad, Craig himself not being an exception.
Somewhere in those eyes, however, there was also an unasked question. He was wondering about the reason for his being there.
"So...", Savanna spoke finally, throwing a sharp look at the general. "I'm guessing us being here has something to do with the devil's spectacle we saw yesterday."
"Indeed.", he answered simply.
"John would like to know who do you think could've done something like that.", explained Cameron matter-of-factly.
Redhead shrugged her shoulders. "Probably half the base."
Connor looked at her and she just shook her head.
"I can't build a reasonable, viable psychological profile based on just one crime.", she said with a sigh. "It's probably someone deeply religious, since he quotes Bible and it's not like you can find it in every library nowadays. Mostly because there are none of those. He needed to attend the sermons, because if someone asked me for this particular quote lately, i would've remembered. Or he's got his own copy. Or he's got the Book all remembered. In both of those cases, however, i believe he'd still want to attend the service."
General nodded and the woman continued.
"Brutal and expressive character of the deed would suggest a deep pain and a desire for vengeance or perhaps justice. It's someone who deeply hates machines.", she looked into John's eyes. "Which could mean anybody."
"You're not helping, Savannah.", the man sighed.
"I told You.", she answered irritated. "I can't do much. Perhaps if he strikes again, once or twice. Perhaps then."
The man rested on his back on the armchair again, staring at some undefined point above their heads, which seemed to instantly get the attention of his cybernetic shadow, too. The fact that there wasn't anything there didn't prevent her from observing the ceiling for a substantial moment.
"Alright then.", he said finally. "Be alert. If you happen to see, talk to or hear about anyone who'll ring a bell, let me know as soon as possible. Or Cam."
"Of course."
Connor's eyes drifted to the boy opposite of him who seemed to be sitting more straight now.
"Sir?", he asked.
"Savannah has an excellent connection with people.", John started after a while. "but even she can't reach everywhere. There are things soldiers would only share with those who fight at their sides."
"Without a doubt, sir."
"I would like you to be my shadow, Craig. Inside the barracks."
A moment of quite long and embarrassing silence descended on the room. Cameron, still as unperturbed as always looked at the door. Savannah, in turn, eyed the boy with a new-found curiosity.
"Sir.", the youngster spoke finally. "Why me?"
The older man's gaze met his eyes.
"Because you're young and clever. Because you have a funny personality, that'll easily open people before you. Because you can't plan an action like that in two days, without knowing the base and you're not from here, in the base for exactly that long.", he answered. "But most of all, because your first reaction to what you saw was a report to your commanding officer worded, let me quote 'Murder, sir. We've got murder.'.
The boy was silent.
"I need someone like you. I won't force you however. It's a request, not an order.", the general continued. "And you don't have to answer now. I would like your decision by tomorrow mor..."
"I'll do it, sir.", Craig stopped him.
Their eyes met again, for a longer while this time. The boy has balls., Connor thought, Even if he hides them sometimes.
A nice, warm smile curved his lips.
"Thank you."
The youngster straightened like an arrow, then saluted.
"It's an honor, sir."
"Yes, it is.", Cameron added to his left and the boy's face went red. John started to laugh, the redhead rolled her eyes. After a moment, though, all of them were laughing hard. All besides Cameron, of course, who looked at each of them in turn silently, tilting her head.
Their explosion of laughter was suddenly interrupted by an electric crackle coming from the intercom. Four pairs of eyes turned in its direction.
"Sir... i think we've got another one.", spoke a tired voice of lieutenant Larson.
Connor sighed, moving a hand over his face. "Speaking of the devil.", he said finally. "Let's go."
When the four of them marched into the main cave, they quickly understood what the officer was talking about.
"There.", Cameron said in a monotone voice, pointing a finger at the place in front of her.
Below one of the highest points in the entire cave, a little rocky shelf above C-1 barracks, an endoskeleton was swinging back and forth. From what John could see from this distance, someone put a loop over its head then pushed it down, to hang like a Christmas ornament. Or a hangman, the more reasonable part of his mind suggested.
"We need to get there.", he commanded.
"The easiest way would probably lead through the barracks, sir. They've got ladders leading up there.", Craig offered, standing next to his leader.
"Barracks it is, then."
Their procession through the soldiers quarters stirred a lot of people and sparked a lot of attention. John calmed them in a leveled voice, ordering to stay put. They took the ladder, first one, then the next, and after a long and a bit tiring journey, arrived at the very place they were looking at before.
You could see almost the entire main complex from up here. Three barracks, training grounds, private officer quarters and the medical station. It wasn't the whole base, of course. There were a lot of places in smaller caves which you could reach through a multitude of corridors. This was the heart of Carey, though, and you could see most important things that happened in the mine from this point of view. Unfortunately, it also meant that the many bystanders that were slowly gathering could observe you without that much of a problem, too. Connor didn't like that, for many reasons.
There was one more way leading to the shelf, also by a ladder. A ladder that someone purposely broken.
"A clever one, eh?", Connor mumbled under his nose, looking down. Almost ten minutes passed since Larson notified them. Pursuing now wouldn't make much sense.
"Alright, let's get him up here.", he commanded and Cameron reached down, grabbed the line and started methodically pulling the endoskeleton back to the shelf, blocking her feet on the rocky surface. Finishing, the cyborg lied him down in front of the rest of them.
"Poor Willy.", she commented with an empty face, making the general smile a little.
"How do you know it's him?"
His friend pointed at the endoskeleton's skull, where at one place you could notice a slight dent.
"A mark, after a bullet.", she explained. "Damage he suffered in combat, many years ago. I helped him repair it myself. Because sometimes it's nice to have help."
Connor noted the faces of both Craig and Savannah with a slight amusement, but then, he shook his head. It made no sense. He could understand an attack on Greg. T-888 working with the machinery was a rare model and one of the more influential machines in the base. This wasn't a triple 8 though, it wasn't even a T-800, just an old, primitive, and used only for battle purposes T-600 model. Why would anyone want to kill him?
"He's got something in his mouth.", Cameron noted once again.
"Take it out, please."
She grabbed the endo's jaw and general saw the young private turning his eyes away, probably under a sway of bad memories. A slight metal jarring sound could be heard, and then the jaw gave up. This time, to the boy's relief, no drastic measures were needed.
Cameron pulled out a crumpled piece of paper, unwrapping it and placing the fragments of a destroyed chip on one hand. Then she looked at the paper itself and read the message aloud.
"Thine own wickedness shall correct thee, and thy backslidings shall reprove thee."
A horribly loud gunshot resounded like a thunder in the entire cave.
I'm dead..., crossed John's mind.
A fraction of a second later he saw a fan of brown hair, suddenly flying like on a wind and felt drops of synthetic blood hitting his face. Then, he understood.
He wasn't the target, and neither was poor Willy.
"Cam... eron...", he whispered, his throat dry.
She didn't respond. One eye, looking from a half-destroyed, bloodied face was staring at the ceiling emptily.
Afterword:
Alright. I know the ending is harsh, i really do. Jt was meant to be harsh and shocking, and if You feel that way right now, then it's my success. I also can't promise the third chapter to be much lighter, honestly. It'll be a bit serious and more focused inwards, then out. Character development etc.
What i can promise, however, is that there are many surprises still left and the ending, after the 4th chapter, should prove very satisfactory. It did for my native readers at least.
Sarah's death scene is one of the things making this fic a sligh AU. I'm not a big fan of her dying of cancer and i really wanted to give her a death i believe she always wanted. Meaningful and victorious.
Thanks for the reviews once more, hope to hear from You all again, after this chapter.