Metal Guru
TUNNELS, LOS ANGELES
2028
Allison Young looked at her reflection in the mirror and groaned.
I look like a pixie!
She'd chopped her long hair off the moment that...thing showed up with her face. Cut it brutally short so there was no possibility of anyone mistaking her, Lieutenant Allison Young of the Resistance, for a tin can wannabe.
God, my head's like a big round ball! It makes my eyes look huge, like a bug! Maybe I should've just dyed it a different colour.
Too late, too late...
"I'm not so bad looking, am I?" she asked her reflection. No. Not a beauty perhaps, but okay. Better than okay on a good day. Maybe the forehead's a little too broad but her nose was plenty cute. She smiled, baring small even teeth. She had a nice smile too. Everyone said so.
When you smile, Allie, the whole room lights up.
Her mother's voice in her head. Yeah, the smile definitely goes in the plus column. Boobs could be bigger but every girl thought that. Not much chance of them growing any larger, not on the meager tunnel rations. Legs were okay and her butt rockhard. Daniel had loved her firm ass.
Daniel. Danny. Dan. Dan-o. Deeman. Deezer.
He'd loved his nicknames; a new one everytime they hooked up. But she hadn't loved him. Not even close. And he hadn't loved her. Not really. She was sure of that. But it was different for boys. They were just nerve endings. Nerve endings on a stick they were happy to shove anywhere, anytime, any girl, any orifice. No better than animals really.
Count your blessings, Allie, honey.
Thanks, mom. I will. And she had some. Not many but a few. The youngest person to attain Lieutenant's rank. One of the top ten best marksmen in the tunnels. Brave underfire. Not everyone was. You could be the bee's knees in combat sims, but out there, up top, where it really counted, with the bullets flying and death a trigger finger away, you could freeze, wet your pants in fear and wind up with your head blown off.
Count your blessings, Allie, sweetie.
I hear you, mom. Could be better. Could be a whole lot worse. Could be Christine Alvarez. Blonde and beautiful with big boobs and boys falling over themselves for a smile, a wave, anything. Then a thermite grenade explodes prematurely and melts half her face off. No more boys. Just pain and meals through a straw and more pain and no visitors to the hospital wing because everyone freaks out when they see what happened to your beautiful, sweet face which isn't coming back ever ever EVER!
Count your blessings, Allie, baby.
Oh screw you, mom! Screw your blessings. Where were you when I needed you? Dead. Dead from a plasma round because you were too fucking stupid, too fucking slow to keep your head down. You're safe and snug up there on your cloud in Heaven - if the chaplain could be believed.
Not that she did. No. So much bullshit in her opinion. Have faith, the God botherers intoned piously. 's a Plan. This is a Test. For our sins, Allie. For our sins.
"They said that about the Holocaust!" Allison angrily accused her reflection.
No reply. There never was. Just the voices in her head that wouldn't leave her alone. The voices and the memories...
"How many battalians is Heaven providing? What's Jesus packing these days - Kalashnikov or Uzi? Huh, chaplain? I don't see many Apostles out there on the front line. Or you for that matter."
"Allie, you're obviously traumatised. Your mother's death...Everyone is very sad, Allie. And each of us serves in different ways."
"Coward! Filthy coward!"
"Allie, please..."
"My name's not Allie. I'm Allison Young. Corporal Allison Young. And don't you forget it - preacherman."
"Oh my God! She punched the chaplain! I think she broke his nose!"
"It's okay...I'm all right."
"You little bitch! You think you're the only one who ever lost someone? The only one who ever suffered?
"It's okay...Leave her. She knows not what she does."
"Don't make excuses for her, chaplain. She's not a child anymore. Oh God, you're bleeding real bad."
"It looks worse than it is."
"You need a medic."
"Wait. Allie...Allison. I'm always here for you. God is here for you. His is the One True Word."
"Yeah, preacherman? Then I guess that makes me dyslexic."
She dressed quickly and silently so as not to wake the other girls in the shared dorm. Hers was now the only empty bed - apart from the new girl, Riley Dawson. She was out with a boy. Again. There seemed to be a different one every night. And the occasional girl, if the rumours were true. What a slut!
Daniel...
Daniel dead during the second battle of Serrano Point. Not enough left of him for a decent burial. Gone to join mom on her cloud, no doubt.
At least I don't hear his voice in my head.
It was part of her Lieutenant duties to allocate jobs for the newcomers. She'd decided to assign Riley latrine duty. She'd doubtless kick and shout in protest, but someone had to do it or they'd be knee deep in shit.
Not that we aren't already.
No, that was unfair. Commander Reese was a good man doing his best in difficult circumstances. And preparations were going reasonably well for the third assault on Serrano Point - if you overlooked the chronic shortages of ordnance, fuel and heavy duty weaponery needed to breach the Skynet fortress.
Allison moved swiftly through the tunnels that had been her home since she was a small child. She knew the twists and turns like the back of her hand. She was twenty years old and rarely went up top unless it was for a mission or scouting or tending the gardens where they grew fresh fruit and vegetables. Never once had she been to the beach, swam in the ocean or attended a drive-in movie - whatever they were. Maybe you didn't miss what you'd never known. Maybe.
In a narrow stretch of tunnel she paused to let a man pass coming from the opposite direction. He was incongrously dressed in brougues, tweed jacket and shirt and tie. So different from the normal khaki uniforms worn in the tunnels. Allison recognised the man as Teddy Paulson, the old guy who'd shown up a few weeks previously in the company of that...thing. Cameron. God, she even hated its name.
"Good morning, Lt. Young," Paulson greeted her pleasantly.
"Hello, sir."
Technically she outranked him, since he was too old for combat duties and instead taught the younger children history, English and basic math. But there was something about him that made her feel automatically deferential. There were rumours the man had once been something important in a fancy government agency before the war. Certainly he was very smart and always polite and well dressed. She liked him, certainly more than she liked the mealy-mouthed platitudinous chaplain and his ilk.
"Ah Lieutenant, I'm planning on submitting my candidacy for election to the War Council. I trust I can count on your vote?"
"I don't see why not."
"Excellent!" The smile didn't warm his cold blue eyes. "Yes, I feel I have the necessary administrative skills to make a difference to how this tunnel operates. Not to be unduly immodest, but I'm rather wasted teaching kids their times tables."
"Education is never wasted, sir."
"I dare say. Nevertheless, I hope to contribute more fully in the future. It's time this tunnel, nay this Great Nation of ours, began turning the tide against those infernal machines. Good day."
Bemused, Allison watched him depart. Great Nation? Infernal machines? Turn the tide? Best of luck with that.
Allison slipped into the Command Centre, the hub of operations in the tunnels. Major Brennan looked up from his desk. No sign of either Reese brother.
"It's raining up top, Lieutenant. Pissing it down, in fact."
"Not my fault, sir. I was asleep in my bunk. I have witnesses."
"Very funny. Your name's been chosen for tank maintenance. See to it, please."
"Oh come on! That's scut-work, sir. Detail one of the non-coms."
"I have. Connor. He's new and needs supervising. You're up."
"What's wrong with Sullivan?"
"Sullivan just had his leg amputated. I think he deserves some R&R, don't you?"
"Slacker."
"Have you decided yet what to do with the new girl - Dawkins, is it?"
"Dawson. Riley Dawson. I'm going to assign her latrine duty."
"Latrines? My, you most really dislike her. What's the matter, Allison - did she turn you down for a date? Hahahaha!"
Allison didn't bother joining in the laughter. It was shaping up to be one of those days.
It never rains in Southern California. But it pours. Oh it pours...
That's a song, I'm sure of it, John Connor thought to himself. But damned if I can remember the title. Catchy thing though.
The chorus continued to play in his head as he reported for duty. He offered a salute to his CO, Allison Young, who returned it sloppily.
She's looks pissed, John thought. Hope it's not with me.
They made their way upwards to the highest sections of tunnel just below the surface. Here the rain was really loud, hammering on the roof above their heads. John decided to risk a question.
"Where are we going?"
"You'll see."
Helpful. He and Allison had spent time together before Cameron arrived and made things weird between them. It'd been necessary to lie about that, explaining Cameron's likeness as a coincidence, that Skynet used real people to model their cyborgs on. It hadn't felt good lying to someone he was beginning to care about - but what choice did he have? Who'd believe the truth now anyway?
Allison stopped just shy of their destination, turned to John and said, "I'm sorry about your girlfriend."
"Girlfriend?" For a second John thought she meant Cameron.
"Riley. I've assigned her latrine duty. Nothing personal, it's just she has no practical skills whatsover. So don't be surprised if she smells bad. It's not her fault."
"Riley's not my girlfriend."
"She's not? Oh. Probably just as well, I hear she nails anything with a pulse."
John's jaw clenched and he stared at the ground. Allison noticed and thought, She might not be your girlfriend but you care about her, don't you. I wonder why. She doesn't seem like your type.
"Still, better news about your mom, huh? You must be proud."
"What about mom?"
"You don't know? Commander Reese intends to promote her to Platoon leader. It probably helps she's sleeping with his brother, right."
Allison said it lightly in jest and was surprised by his extreme reaction.
"What the fuck's that supposed to mean? You think she sleeps with Kyle to get a promotion? That's bullshit, Alli---Lieutenant. She's the best damn soldier here."
"I didn't mean it that way," she protested. " Sorry. I could've phrased it better."
Allison seemed so contrite John's anger subsided as quickly as it had arrived. I like this girl. I should cut her some slack, he thought.
"It's okay. Mom's been through a lot. Stuff you wouldn't believe. It's good she's happy. She'll be pleased about the promotion."
"There might be one for you as well. Commander Reese was very impressed by the way you rescued Riley. I think he's gonna make you corporal."
"Yeah? Ah, it was nothing really. Anyone could've done it."
"Don't be modest! You took down a terminator single-handed. Pretty ballsy stuff for a rookie. I know men twice your age who shit their pants if they come face to face with a terminator."
John smiled. If you only knew, he thought.
"Hey, did you know the tin can vanished when the salvage squad went to retrieve it?"
"That's impossible. I destroyed the chip."
"They found the chip just no body. Some weird shit, huh?"
"Yeah. Weird."
John and Allison stepped into a large cavern situated at the highest level of the tunnels. Above came the sound of the rain, heavy and unrelenting.
"This is where we collect and store the rainfall," Allison explained. "It supplies the tunnels with all our fresh water. Without it we wouldn't last long, especially as the dry season can last several months."
There were six huge tanks made of heavy iron, corroded in places but still functional. They were seven feet in diameter and thirty long, drab and monolithic, and made even this large room seem cramped and claustrophobic. Pipes snaked away across the floor, presumably carrying water to where it was needed.
"Valves on the surface open automatically when it rains," Allison went on. "It's old technology and sometimes it fritzes. Check the dials."
Large, glass-fronted dials were attached to each tank. Five showed water levels rising steadily while the sixth remained at zero.
"Valve's probably stuck."
"Do we go outside to fix it?" John asked, not relishing a trip up top in this weather.
"No need. There's an access hatch in the side."
Allison took a wrench off her toolbelt and began undoing the six bolts that held a circular hatch in place on the side of the malfunctioning tank. Once it was removed she gestured to John.
"Clothes off and in you get."
"What?"
"Take your clothes off and get inside."
"You're serious?"
"Don't be shy. I'm your superior officer, you do what I say. And I say nude up and get inside, soldier."
Reluctantly John began unbuttoning his shirt. He had it half off when Allison could keep a straight face no longer and burst out laughing.
"What now?"
"I was kidding! Just yanking your chain!"
"That's not funny."
"The look on your face!"
John rebuttoned his shirt. "So I don't have to nude up?
"Not unless you want to."
"I'll pass, thanks."
He climbed into the tank. It was very dark. The water came up to his ankles.
"Gonna need a torch."
Allison took a torch from her belt and shone it into the tank. "Better?"
"Much."
He could see the valve mechanism just above his head. "How do I open it?"
"Twist the lever clockwise."
He did so. Or tried to.
"It's not budging."
"Put your back into it, you pussy."
"Appreciate the advice."
He tried again. Still nothing.
"It's definitely jammed. Give me something to whack it with."
Allison handed over the wrench. John gave the lever several thumps, the sound of metal striking metal loud and echoing in the confined space.
"Shit!"
The lever gave suddenly, drenching him in a cascade of freezing cold water. It continued to pour in along with debris from the surface. Something hard hit him on the shoulder and he slipped under the fast rising water. He felt whatever had hit him squirm against his legs.
"Hey, I think something alive fell in here."
"Maybe a rat. Or a possum. Try and catch it if it's a possum. They're very tasty to eat."
But John didn't think it was a possum.
"Switch the light off a second, will you. Something's not right."
With the light out the tank was lit with an eerie red glow.
"John, get out of there now. Hurry!"
The urgency in Allison's voice left no room for argument.
"What is it?"
"No time. Just get out."
But the water had risen up to his knees and it was like wading in treacle. He managed to reach the open hatch then felt something coil around his right calf.
"It's got me!"
He half-tumbled out of the hatch, knocking Allison off her feet in the process.
Coiled around his leg was a silvery snake-like creature with a glowing red LED for an eye. John had seen red LEDs like this before. Too many times.
"The wrench! Hit it with the wrench!" Allison yelled, clambering to her feet.
He started to pound the thing with the heavy wrench, mindful that it was his leg underneath. He aimed for the glowing red eye.
"Get. The. Hell. Off. Me!"
One final bash that made his bones shudder and the thing detached itself. Its segmented body attempted to slither away under the tank. Allison drew her gun and shot it six times. Two shots missed but the others hit their target. The red LED dimmed and went out. The thing lay still, apparently dead.
"What is that?"
"Hydrobot. Skynet seeded the rivers and lakes and oceans with these things in the early years of the war. Some are huge, like the krakens which can sink a battleship. This one's a baby."
"You didn't have it on your leg!"
"Probably a river in spate somewhere and it washed into the city. You had a lucky escape. These things have razor-sharp mandibles. You could've lost a leg."
John could well believe it. Judging by the torn state of his pants leg it had indeed been a lucky escape.
Allison replaced the hatch and bolted it down. The dial showed the tank was already a third full.
"Okay, we're about done here so we---what?" John was looking at her funny.
"You cut your hair."
"Oh. Yeah, I just felt like a change, y'know," she lied.
"I like it."
"Really?"
John stepped closer and brushed the fringe away from her eyes. "I like it very much."
Perhaps it was the proximity of their bodies, or the adrenaline rush still coursing through their bloodstream from the hydrobot attack, or just unfinished business from months ago before things got weird between them. Whatever the reason they were suddenly in each others arms, joined at the mouth, hands roving everywhere.
"Oh God, I want you so bad!" Allison moaned, pulling her lips away from his. She tugged her shirt over her head, dragging her bra with it. Her breasts were small and firm with fawn-coloured nipples a shade lighter than her hair. John pulled his shirt off and started on his belt. Allison beat him to it. She tugged at it so violently he almost lost his balance and toppled over.
"Whoa! Steady, Cameron, let me do it."
It was like one of the old cartoons. A character runs off the side of a cliff and keeps going until finally realising the ground's no longer under their feet. And it's a long way down with no way back.
"What? Oh...shit. I'm sorry, Allison, I didn't mean----"
But the shirt was already going back on, those devine breasts were disappearing under khaki. Allison gave him a withering look of contempt, her voice high and brittle with emotion.
"Fine. You want her? Then go. Go to your tin whore. I never want to see you again."
John decided not to run after her. What the hell was he supposed to say anyway? The damage was done. He gave her a ten minute headstart then slowly retraced his steps through the tunnels.
Enroute to the dorm he passed Major Brennan, coming off shift from the Command Center.
"Ah Connor. I just spoke to Lt. Young. It's a very noble thing you did."
"Ah - sorry, sir, what is?" Surely Allison hadn't told this guy...
"She tells me you volunteered for latrine duty instead of Riley Dawson. Very noble. You'll be knee deep in shit, son. Hope you've got a strong stomach."
"So do I, sir," John agreed with feeling as the implications of Allison's punishment hit home. "So do I."
-000-
Hell hath no fury like a woman scorned.
My take on Allison Young is very different from most. She's in for a bumpy ride.