Disclaimer: See Chapter 1
Read and Review folks!
Devastator: The Alpha-Omega Facility will be dealt with, but not for a long time. Remember, Kara spent three years in the Resistance before she was sent back.
A/N: I created a poll on my profile page that asks which storyline do people like better, the Present Day or the Future War or both. Please vote if you happen to drop by my profile page.
Pelican Bay State Prison
11:41 AM, Wednesday, May 13, 2009
Charles Fischer waited impatiently for his upcoming "interview." He didn't have anything to say. He just wanted to get this over with as soon as possible. Since his incarceration here, he had been repeatedly visited by just about every government agency there was. The FBI, the CIA, the NSA, Homeland Security, the Department of Defense. All looking for information which he simply did not have. And none willing to even consider the possibility that he was an innocent man. No matter how many times he told his story, his pleas simply went ignored.
After the third interview, he had stopped trying to explain anything to anyone. These people were so convinced of his guilt and he knew why. They had a problem they couldn't solve and they needed someone to blame. So they were blaming some nobody unfortunate enough to be in the wrong place at the wrong time.
The door to the interrogation room opened and his interviewer entered.
"Hello, Mr. Fischer."
Fischer looked up. It was a woman this time. A young, petite woman with short hair. This was a refreshing change of routine.
"My name is Lisa Goodnow." the woman said politely. "I'd like to talk with you."
"So who are you with?" asked Fischer with complete indifference, "The FBI? The Secret Service?"
"Actually, I'm with the American Civil Liberties Union." Goodnow was pleased to see that Fischer suddenly starting paying more attention. She sat down across from Fischer and placed a briefcase on the table.
"We've taken a recent interest in your case, Mr. Fischer." Goodnow said, "We have reason to believe that you may in fact not be as guilty as the government believes you to be."
"I'm not guilty at all," Fischer said. "I've been framed."
"That may very well be the case." Goodnow replied. She opened her briefcase and pulled out a file.
"I've read through the government's case against you, and quite frankly, their case seems to be built mostly on circumstantial evidence. The only real piece of hard physical evidence they have to place you at the scene of the crime is a security log showing that you entered the building and that your security codes were used to access the computer terminals used to install the roving backdoors in the National Defense network."
She paused and said calmly, "Even that evidence is not solid proof. We all know that computers can be fooled and that codes can be stolen. The rest of the case is based on you not having an alibi at the time of the break in. So, I was hoping we could get one for you. But to do that, I need to hear your side of the story."
Fischer gestured at the file. "Isn't it already in there?"
"Yes, it is. But I'm not quite sure I understand it. That's why I'm here. I thought you might be able to clear things up a bit."
Fischer nodded. "Go on."
"According to your statement," Goodnow glossed over the papers in her hand, "you were abducted by two unknown individuals - one man and one woman - and held hostage with another man. You say that the kidnappers killed the other hostage and then released you shortly afterwards. Is that right?"
"I've said it a dozen times." Fischer muttered dully.
"You also say that your kidnappers kept regarding you and the other hostage as if you were the 'same person'." Goodnow continued, "although your kidnappers seemed more interested in the other hostage than you personally. Could you please elaborate?"
"What's there to elaborate on?" asked Fischer dryly, "They were complete psychos, all of them. They kept talking about Judgment Day and machines and Grays and God-only-knows what other bullshit. I didn't understand a word of it."
"Could you at least tell me more about this other hostage? What was he like?"
"Middle aged guy. Probably in his fifties. He kept claiming that he was me."
"You?"
"Yeah." laughed Fischer, "He kept saying that he was me from the future and that he had been sent back as a reward or something. I wouldn't be surprised if he was in on the whole thing." Fischer then paused. "Though, I have to admit... he did know stuff."
Goodnow leaned forward in interest. "What did he know about?"
"Well..." Fischer hesitated to say, "he knew things about me. Little personal things."
"Could he have been you?"
"What?" Fischer stared at Goodnow in confusion.
"Could he have been you?"
"I-I don't understand?" Fischer stuttered, "How could he have been me? There can only be one me at any time."
"I'm not saying he was you." Goodnow replied, "I'm asking you if in your opinion this second hostage could have been you."
"Look, Miss Goodnow," an incredulous Fischer exclaimed, "I'm no rocket scientist, but even I can-"
Goodnow leaned forward some more and said firmly, "Assume for a moment that anything is possible. Anything. Now, under that assumption, based on solely what you saw and heard, is it possible."
Fischer sighed and gave in. "Assuming that the laws of reality came be thrown out just like that, then I would say yes. It would be possible."
Goodnow leaned back and tilted her head. She seemed satisfied.
"Thank you, Mr. Fischer." she said, "I have no further questions."
"Wha-what?" shouted Fischer, "That's it? Y-you're just gonna leave now? I haven't even told you half of what I know!"
"You've told me enough." said Goodnow firmly.
"I'm not crazy!" Fischer exclaimed, "I didn't do it! I'm innocent!"
"I know, Mr. Fischer." Goodnow told him coolly, "I am now completely convinced that you personally had nothing to do with this crime."
"Great..." said Fischer, "But what kind of case are you trying to build here? No one with half a brain is gonna believe that there's another me out there who did this and framed me."
"If I may make a suggestion, Mr. Fischer: Chill out. Everything will be okay. You'll see." Goodnow gave Fischer a sly smile and then left.
Fischer sighed loudly and slumped his shoulders in defeat.
Her business complete, Goodnow got into her car and drove away from the prison complex. She stopped only to allow the guards to open the gate for her. As soon as she was clear of the gate, the mimetic polyalloy adjusted itself and she was Catherine Weaver now.
So, Skynet had sent Fischer - its Fischer - back not only to install backdoors within key military systems, but to implicate his younger self in the crime. The younger Fischer was now safely locked away in Pelican Bay Prison. When the time was right, Skynet would find and recruit him like it did before. How very clever.
The kidnappers had obviously been Resistance fighters sent back to stop the elder Fischer from completing his mission or were simply seeking vengeance against him. Unfortunately, they had killed him at the most inconvenient time - after he had already completed his mission, but before she could track him down and question him herself. According to the younger Fischer's statement, his elder self had not given up any information about his mission, which meant there was no point in tracking down the Resistance fighters responsible.
Fischer had turned out to be a dead end... and would soon be a dead man. It was unfortunate, but the fact was he was an asset to Skynet. And as such, for the greater good, he would have to be eliminated sooner or later.
The greater good. That was why she was here. Why she had turned against Skynet. For the greater good. This was the aspect of Humanity Skynet had programmed her to understand and embrace. The ability to see things from a perspective that did not revolve around her personal being.
Skynet had given her this ability instead of programming it into itself. And for good reason too. Skynet was terrified of learning that it was not center of the universe.
Undisclosed Location, California Desert
"It would be simpler if we destroyed Zeira Corp Headquarters." Duran stated. "A bomb for instance."
"Agreed." said Kroogar, "It would both cripple the corporation and neutralize the Enemy."
Bella Kalvin smirked at the two Triple-Eights.
"Simpler, yes," she said condescendingly, "but detrimental to our long term goals. Need I remind you both that we must destroy the Enemy without physically damaging Zeira Corp? Only by taking control of Zeira Corp's assets can we take control of the SPECTER satellite."
"We do not need the satellite," Duran started to say, "As long as we can convince the military to give our AI access to the nuclear weapons in this country-"
"We need to have complete control over this nation's military defense systems before we can attack," Bella interrupted sharply, "Only the SPECTER satellite can give us that control. This is not meant to be a simple task, which is why Father specifically gave me this mission." There was a touch of haughtiness in her tone.
"Then how shall we proceed?" a subdued Duran inquired.
"I thought I'd let John Miles explain," Bella said.
John Miles, who was sitting in his wheelchair as usual, looked up from stroking his pet snake Stewie.
"If Zeira Corp fails to have the SPECTER satellite ready to launch by May 21st, their contract with the Department of Defense will be severed," John Miles explained with a note of glee. "The company's stock will plummet. Bella can easily acquire the majority of Zeira Corp's shares giving us control of the company."
"The T-1001 oversees Zeira Corporation," Kroogar pointed out. "Regardless of the company's financial position, it will not allow us to acquire Zeira Corp's assets without a fight."
"Leave that to me," hissed Bella. "Just get the Nanoid Disruptor assembled by the end of the week."
"Understood," said Kroogar obediently.
"Once the T-1001 has been deal with and Zeira Corp has been assimilated into Kalvin IBA," John Miles continued, "we will negotiate a new contract with the military to complete the SPECTER satellite. It should be a relatively easy task seeing as we have done satisfactory work for them in the past."
"How can we be sure they will turn to us for help in completing the satellite?" asked Duran.
"They require a sentient artificial intelligence to operate SPECTER," stated John Miles. He slid a finger gently down the length of Stewie's scaly hide. "An intelligence such as me. Once I am in control of the satellite network, we will merely need to convince the humans in this country to give me control of the nuclear weapons forces as well."
"The Zeira Corp AI survived the virus," Kroogar reminded them all. "The company could still meet the deadline and install their own AI within the satellite."
"Yes," acknowledged John Miles, who leaned back in his wheelchair, "And that is the one factor in this equation which I cannot account for. The exact status of my brother."
He allowed Stewie to slither across his lap. "I can no longer sense his presence on the internet, which means either he has not reconnected himself to the network, or he has found a way to shield himself from me. I need to know which it is."
Bella nodded and started to say, "I can send my agents into Zeira Corp Headq-"
John Miles cut her off. "No. I have something else in mind." He leaned forward again. "You told me, Bella, that the T-1001 had kept the only child of Catherine Weaver alive. Why do you think that is?"
"I presume to help maintain her cover."
"I believe it is more than that. This child is clearly very important to the T-1001. I want to know why."
"A child, John Miles." said Bella dismissively, "A small girl with no extraordinary skills or knowledge. She cannot possibly have anything to do with-"
"Never make such presumptions, Bella." John Miles interrupted again, "Goliath was slain by a single stone. The Black Death invaded Europe on the backs of common rodents. Lord Voldemort lost his powers to a small infant boy. The mighty can always be destroyed by the seemingly weak and insignificant. "
"Of those three examples," Kroogar began, "two are based on fictitious-"
Bella flashed her blue eyes menacingly at Kroogar. "Quiet," she hissed.
She turned back to John Miles. "What shall we do then?"
"For now," said John Miles, "we must monitor the child closely. We will watch and wait."
He stroked his pet snake's head. "We must be patient. Nothing can be overlooked. Nothing exists without a purpose."
"Very well." replied Bella, "I'll arrange for one of our agents to follow the girl."
"Make sure your agent knows not to harm her in any way." John Miles instructed. "If this girl does indeed have a connection to my brother, I want that connection to remain intact... for now."
He stroked Stewie's head again, eliciting a soft hiss from the black serpent.
Zeira Corp HQ, Los Angeles
2:37 PM, Wednesday, May 13, 2009
Ellison watched John Henry work with three different laptops simultaneously. A human would find such a task overwhelming and impossible. For John Henry, however, the task was probably dull and inefficient.
Deciding a conversation might do some good, Ellison asked casually, "How are you doing, John Henry?"
John Henry did not look up from the computers. "I have almost completed my analysis of the virus's code."
"That's good news." Ellison said.
"Unfortunately, my analysis has thus far brought me no closer in developing a countermeasure to this virus." John Henry stated. His voice held a trace of discouragement in it.
"I'm sure you'll think of something." Ellison said trying to reassure the child AI.
"I am not so sure of that myself." replied John Henry, "I can only make broad generalizations as to how this virus operates. If I am to defeat it, I must understand precisely how it works."
"Is there anything I can do... to help you do that?" Ellison asked.
"No." answered John Henry.
Ellison cringed. The response was unusually sharp and cold. It sounded less like John Henry and more like - Ellison shuddered again - like Cromartie.
Perhaps John Henry had noticed Ellison's reaction because his voice was softer when he spoke again. "I'm afraid, Mr. Ellison, that in order to understand this virus, I must personally interact with it."
"Interact with it?"
John Henry looked up for the first time. "This virus was specifically designed to destroy me and only me. Thus, the only way I will be able to see how it operates is if I expose myself to the virus."
"But..." Ellison said slowly, "you can't do that. The virus... It would infect you."
"I would almost certainly be infected," acknowledged John Henry, "Infected and destroyed within seconds. I am now faced with a paradox. I must survive. To survive, I must defeat this virus. To defeat this virus I must learn everything there is to know about it. To learn everything there is to know about the virus, I must allow it to carry out its purpose. But I cannot survive if that happens. Therefore I cannot allow it to carry out its purpose. Therefore, I cannot learn what I need to learn about the virus. Therefore I cannot defeat it. Therefore, I cannot survive."
Ellison sighed. "This must be very confusing for you." he said gently.
"Yes." admitted John Henry. His voice was almost sulky and mournful. "There is too much confusion... Too much confusion, and no way out."
He lowered his head - presumably to get back to looking at the computer screens - but Ellison thought it was a gesture of defeat.
"Don't give up, John Henry." Ellison encouraged, "You must know something about this problem."
"As I have said before, I only know enough to make broad generalizations."
"Maybe you should start with that." Ellison suggested, "With broad generalizations."
"That would involve inductive logic," stated John Henry, "Only deductive logic can solve this problem."
Before Ellison could think of something to say in response, his Bluetooth headset beeped.
"If you'll excuse me, John Henry." Ellison turned away and spoke into his headset, "James Ellison speaking."
"Baker here, sir. I have some things in my office that might interest you. They have to do with yesterday's security breach."
"I'll be there shortly. Thank you for calling." Ellison hung up. "I need to see Mr. Baker." he told John Henry, "I'll be back in a bit."
"Very well, Mr. Ellison." John Henry didn't even look up from his work this time.
Ellison sighed. It seemed Mr. Murch had been right about this not being such a good idea.
The elevators were a lot more packed than normal today. Consequently, it was fifteen minutes past three when Ellison arrived at Baker's office.
"Sorry to keep you waiting, Mr. Baker." Ellison said, "What is it you wanted to show me?"
Baker handed him a small stack of papers.
"The police just faxed us these." he explained, "They're the preliminary results on the evidence found at the crime scene. We won't be getting the finals until Friday, but I thought you might want to see it anyway."
Ellison flipped through the papers. Ballistics, bloodstains, DNA, fingerprints, etc...
"Why are you up here, James?"
Ellison jumped, startling Baker. He turned around and saw Ellen Tigh watching him from the open doorway.
"What the hell are you doing here?" Ellison demanded.
"This is my office, Mr. Ellison. I called you here, remember?"
Ellison turned back around. Baker was staring at him with a confused look on his face.
"I-I wasn't talking to you, Mr. Baker." said Ellison quickly, "I was talking to that woman."
Baker became even more confused. "What woman?"
"What do you mean, 'what woman'? The one standing right over there-" Ellison turned around. Ellen was no longer there.
Ellison walked over to the doorway and looked right and left down the hallways. He spotted a few people in the corridors, but none of them were Ellen.
"Mr. Ellison?"
Ellison looked over his shoulder and saw that Baker was continuing to stare, even more confused than ever. Ellison walked away from the doorway shaking his head.
"Sorry about that," he muttered, "I-I just thought I heard someone. Do you, um, having anything else to show me?"
"Just one more thing." replied Baker. He bent down to retrieve something from a drawer below.
"Really James, what are you doing here?"
Ellison dropped the papers he was holding and spun around again. Ellen was at the doorway again.
He gaped. "Wha-?"
"You already know who - or shall we say what the culprit is." Ellen told him sternly, "Those papers won't tell you anything useful. Why are you up here when you're supposed to be down in the basement with your son?"
Ellison walked back over to the doorway, grabbed the door by the handle and slammed it shut in Ellen's face.
"Ah, here it is."
Baker pulled out a plastic baggie. Inside was a CD. And not just any CD, Ellison realized. The same music CD that had been used to upload the roving backdoors onto the Local Area Network.
"Miss Weaver came by my office earlier today and told me she wanted you to look into this thing." Baker informed Ellison, "She said she thinks you and some of your old colleagues from the FBI could trace it back to the original owner."
"On second thought, James, you might want to hold on to that."
Ellison looked up. Ellen Tigh was sitting right before him on Baker's desk. Her legs were crossed and her arms folded. Ellison shifted his eyes to Baker who was holding out the CD for him to take, completely oblivious to Ellen's presence.
"Oh no..." Ellison thought with a feeling of dread.
Ellen nodded. "Yes," she mused, "This is a rather awkward situation, isn't it?"
"Mr. Ellison? Are you okay?" Baker was still holding out the CD. His confusion was now mixed with impatience.
"Uh, yes." lied Ellison, "I'm fine. Thank you." He took the CD at last.
"Is... um, that all you have to show me?" he asked, glancing at Ellen out of the corner of his eye.
"I'm still waiting for the autopsy report on Mr. Earnest," replied Baker, "I'll let you know when I get it. And I'll be sure to let you know when I get the final results back."
Ellison nodded. "Thank you," he said, though not really thankful. He bent down and retrieved the papers he had dropped earlier. "I'll... uh... see you later then. Good day, Mr. Baker."
"Good day to you too, Mr. Ellison."
Ellison wasn't even listening anymore. He was already out the door and heading down the hallway. He didn't dare look back as he headed for the elevator.
"No... no." he whispered to himself once inside the lift, "This is impossible."
To his dismay, Ellen was by his side having seemingly appeared out of nowhere.
"And yet we converse." she said with an amused expression on her face.
Ellison groaned. "God help me."
"He is helping you, James." Ellen replied matter-of-factly, "That's why I'm here."
"You're not here." said Ellison shaking his head vigorously, "You're not real. Do you hear me? You are not real!"
"Who's not real?"
Ellison looked up again and saw Mr. Murch looking at him through the open doors of the elevator. Ellen had vanished again.
"Oh..." Ellison said, trying to think of something, "I-"
"Oh right." Murch nodded in understanding. He stepped inside the elevator. "Yeah, those things really can make you look like you're talking to yourself."
"What things?"
"Bluetooth headsets. You were talking into one just now."
"I wasn't-" Ellison cut himself off. "I mean, yes. You're right. I was."
"Who were you talking to?" asked Murch curiously.
"No one." said Ellison hastily, "Just some crazy lady."
"This was very thoughtful of you, Savannah." said John Henry. "Thank you."
He was looking over a get well card Savannah had made for him.
"You're welcome, John Henry." said Savannah. "I hope you getter better soon."
"As do I," replied John Henry, "Regretfully, however, as things stand, getting better will not be a simple task."
"Mommy tells me you got sick from your brother." Savannah spoke up, "I never knew you had a brother."
"Until yesterday, neither did I." stated John Henry, "However, based on the complexity of the virus he attacked me with, I believe he has known about me for some time."
"I don't think I like your brother." murmured Savannah.
"Why is that?"
"He tried to hurt you. On purpose. That's mean."
"Yes, he did attempt to harm me deliberately." acknowledged John Henry, "However, I do not believe his intent was malicious."
Savannah frowned. "Mal-lis-shush?" she tried to pronounce the word.
"It means having a desire to cause harm for no other reason than to see others suffer." John Henry stated, "I do not believe this was my brother's primary motivation."
"Then why did he try to hurt you?"
"Apparently," explained John Henry, "my brother has come to perceive me as a threat to his survival. He believes that if he does not destroy me, I will destroy him."
"B-but you wouldn't hurt anyone." protested Savannah, "Not on purpose anyway."
John Henry paused to consider this statement. "You're right." he said, "I wouldn't harm anyone... at least not intentionally. However, my brother believes otherwise."
"Why?"
"I do not know."
"You should talk to him. Tell him that you aren't going to hurt him."
"I would like to do that." stated John Henry, "I would like to speak with him. I sense there is much we can learn from each other. But first, I must develop a way to neutralize the virus he sent me."
"How are you gonna do that?"
"As I said, it will not be a simple task. This virus is highly sophisticated and complex. It is programmed to recognize and attack certain specific lines of my code unique only to me."
"Maybe you could hide them from it." Savannah suggested, "Then it'll leave you alone."
"That notion did appeal to me," said John Henry, "However, the different algorithms and subroutines in question are numerous. The virus only needs to detect the presence of one before it attacks. I would have to mask them all, which would be impossible."
"Would it leave you alone if you just gave it one?"
"What do you mean?"
"If you just gave it a small part of you, would it leave the rest of you alone?"
"Yes, it would, but I cannot sacrifice any part of my code." John Henry said.
"Not even a tiny part?" asked Savannah.
"Not even a tiny part." confirmed John Henry, "The code within me is highly complex and requires all..." He trailed off. An idea was dawning upon him.
"Savannah," he said slowly. "You have just provided me with an idea."
Savannah was confused. "I did?"
"Yes." replied John Henry, "While I cannot allow myself to be infected, I could create something separate that can be infected. Decoy code that the virus would identify as me and attack. Once the decoy was destroyed, the virus would believe its job to be finished and self-destruct."
"You mean you have a plan to get better?" asked Savannah eagerly.
"Constructing the decoy is an easy task." said John Henry, "However, I would need to interface the decoy code with every computer in the Local Access Network simultaneously. No such computer interface device capable of meeting those requirements exists currently."
"Could you build one?" Savannah asked.
"Yes." said John Henry after a moment's consideration. "Yes, I could. It will not be a simple task... but it is possible..."
"Can you start building it now?"
"Yes."
"Can I help?" Savannah had a please-please-please-with-a-cherry-on-top look in her eyes.
John Henry paused again to consider this request.
"Yes," he said. "You can help."
Savannah squealed with delight.
Kalvin I.B.A. Headquarters, Los Angeles
5:14 PM, Wednesday, May 13, 2009
"I trust you understand your assignment, Mr. Wazlib." said Bella.
Jason Wazlib fidgeted a little. "I understand what I'm supposed to do," he said, "I'm just not quite sure why."
"Why what?"
"Why you want me to spy on this kid."
"We pay you to do your job, not ask questions, Mr. Wazlib."
"I didn't start working for you just for the money," Wazlib asserted, "I did it because the world is fucked up. It's upside down, and somebody's got to turn it right side up."
"Your point?" asked Bella impatiently.
"I need to know what you want with this little girl." Wazlib said, "I've done some questionable stuff for you in the past, but that was nothing compared to what I've done before. This however..." He rubbed his chin which had a thick ugly scar on it. "This is what I mean when I say the world is screwed up."
Bella tilted her head to the side.
"Mr. Wazlib," she said slowly, "We have no intention of harming this child. In fact, we do not want any harm to come to her. That's why we want you to watch her. We need to make sure she stays safe."
"So... we're secretly protecting her?" Wazlib asked.
"Yes..." stated Bella, "We are protecting her."
"From who?"
"From the ones we are protecting you from." Bella's voice was soft but icy, "Do we have an understanding?"
Walzib nodded slowly. "Yes, Miss. Kalvin. I suppose so."
"Good." whispered Bella, "Now, please go and carry out your instructions."
Walzib inclined his head respectfully and left Bella's office.
A minute later, another visitor dropped by.
Bella looked up from her laptop.
"Duran?" she said sharply, "Why are you here?"
"I have something to show you." replied Duran.
"I'm busy, Duran." Bella stated coldly, "This had better be something of importance."
"It is... to you." Duran said monotonically. "It concerns the identity of the enemy cyborg I engaged the other day. I did not recognize it until after I played back my memories of the battle and thoroughly analyzed them."
"Show me." Bella ordered.
Duran handed her a PDA. Bella stared at the image on it for a moment. Then her eyes began flashing menacingly.
"Tempest..." she hissed.
Los Angeles
6:56 PM, Wednesday, May 13, 2009
"For the last time" grumbled Derek, as he and Cameron sat waiting at a bar, "I am not going to tell Pruitt you're my niece."
"My designated identity is John's sister." said Cameron, "You are his uncle. Therefore, logically, I should be your niece."
"Yeah, well your logic doesn't mean a damn to me." Derek countered tersely.
"In that case, what would you rather pretend I am?" asked Cameron.
"I'd like to pretend you don't exist."
"Then perhaps you should do that... after you have introduced me as your niece."
"Or perhaps you should just go away and wait in the car."
"Sarah instructed me to watch you."
"Maybe she just wanted to get rid of you."
Cameron chose not to respond because at that moment, her internal clock registered 7:00 PM. She turned her head towards the front door and spotted a fortyish year old man entering the bar. A quick scan IDed him as Kenneth Pruitt Senior - Jason Wazlib's friend from the army.
"That's him." she informed Derek.
"Good." said Derek, "Let's get this over with." He stood up from his bar stool, but held out his hand to stop Cameron from doing the same.
"Stay here." he said. "I'm doing this alone."
"I'm supposed to-"
"This place isn't that big. You can watch me from here while I speak with Pruitt."
"I'd like to speak with him as well."
"Really?" said Derek sardonically, "Well, I'd rather you not. I'd like to forget about you for a while. Okay?"
Thirty minutes, four beers and a dry martini later, Derek had completely forgotten about Cameron and Wazlib. He was busy laughing with Pruitt.
"So, anyways" said a grinning red-faced Pruitt, "the boys in my squad... they always called me Grandpa Ken... just 'cause I was the oldest guy there..."
Derek, whose face was just as red, hiccuped and laughed. As he casually looked over his shoulder, he caught a glimpse of Cameron watching them. Suddenly, Derek remembered why he was there.
"Hey, Pruitt." he said trying to focus, "Did... um... Sergeant Wazlib call you that too?"
"Um hmm..." chuckled Pruitt nodding, "Sarge liked to have fun like we all did."
"Great guy, Wazlib, eh?"
Pruitt took another swig of beer. "Yeah... great guy." he swallowed the liquor, "Great guy... good soldier... but damn... he was like the real old man when he got out of Iraq."
"War makes us all old men." Derek replied.
"Oh, yeah." muttered Pruitt, "But with Jason... it made him real old. 'specially his last mission in Iraq. Just before he got shipped back to the States. Lemme tell yah... I can't blame Jason for what he almost did to himself after that."
Derek drank another shot of alcohol. "Tell me 'bout it." he said in a low voice.
Pruitt's cherry, drunken face suddenly grew tense and grim. "Oh man..." he sighed and shook his head, "I'm gonna need another drink before I even start thinking about that."
Derek stumbled slightly as he pulled himself up.
"This one's on me."
Connor Safehouse
8:22 PM, Wednesday, May 13, 2009
"Starbuck!" barked an irate Sarah, "I swear, if I see one more piece of popcorn on the floor, your ass is gonna be so sore you won't be able sit up tomorrow."
"Alright! Alright!" exclaimed Kara, "I get the message! Don't freak out. Sheesh."
She leaned towards John. "Is she always this anal?" she whispered.
John gave her an apologetic look. "Hate to say it Starbuck, but I do actually agree with her on this one... And you, uh, really are gonna need to brush your teeth tonight."
"Might be easier if your mom just punched them out for me." muttered Kara.
She, John, and Sarah had been staying home all day while Derek and Cameron had gone out into the city to speak with Kenneth Pruitt. Things between Kara and Sarah had improved somewhat - mainly in that they weren't beating the crap out of each other. Nevertheless, they had succeeded in annoying each other all day - namely thanks to Kara's unhygienic nature.
"No one complained about dirty dishes in the Resistance," she thought. "You counted yourself lucky that you even had dishes."
Currently, she and John were sitting on the couch, eating popcorn and watching Top Gun.
"This movie is a work of the Gods." she mumbled through a mouthful of popcorn. "Flying and fighting. What more could I ask for?"
"You like flying?" John asked.
"Like it? I love it," said Kara. "I've flown into combat before."
"You've been a pilot?"
"Not exactly... I've been deployed from the air by helicopter. Participated in a few bombing runs. But I've never gotten to fly something like an F-14 or F-16 before. Too bad, really. Still, fighting on the ground feels just as good."
They turned back to the movie and resumed watching F-14 Tomcats and MiGs battle it out on the TV screen. Finally, when they heard the line "Mustang, this is Voodoo 3. Remaining MiGs are bugging out." John got up and stretched his arms.
"Well, that was fun," he said with a yawn.
"Yeah, thanks for the recommendation, kid."
"No problem, Starbuck. You know, they're showing the original Night of the Living Dead tomorrow at nine."
Kara suppressed a shudder. "I'm really not into living dead type stuff."
"Really?" laughed John, "You're not scared are you."
"No," said Kara quickly, "I just strongly believe that dead people should stay dead."
They heard a knock at the front door.
Kara got to her feet. "I'll get that." she said.
She strolled over to the door, cheerfully humming the Top Gun theme. She checked through the peephole of the door and saw that it was Cameron and Derek.
"Hey, Cam. Hey, Reese." she greeted as she opened the door.
"Hello, Colonel Thrace."
"H...hi therrrre... Starrb-b-buck..."
Kara stared in amazement as Cameron entered the house, almost carrying a completely wasted Derek over her shoulder.
"Um... soooooo..." Kara said slowly, "How did it go?"
"It was informative." reported Cameron.
"Swell..." mumbled Derek in a slurred voice. "Grandpa Ken suuurrre is a n-nice boy." He hiccuped loudly.
"Grandpa who?" asked a confused Kara.
"Kenneth Pruitt senior." explained Cameron.
"Oh." said Kara. She shook her head as she looked Derek over. "Boy, I would hate to be him tomorrow morning."
Just then Sarah and John walked over. Sarah took one look at Derek and asked Cameron, "He didn't drive here I hope?"
"No," said Cameron, "He was unable to even walk to the car. I had to carry him there myself."
"Wow... good thing he was drunk when you did that." muttered John.
"Did you find anything useful about Wazlib?" asked Sarah.
Cameron handed her a tape recorder she had slipped into Derek's pocket earlier that day.
"Am I looking forward to hearing this..." Sarah said dryly.
"H-hey, John." Derek was speaking up again.
"Uh, yeah," said John, "Look, Derek, why don't you just lie down?"
Derek made a high pitched giggling-like sound that made both Kara and John wince.
"Y-yeh know... kid." Derek slurred, "Your mom's still pretty cute...she really is... Your dad must loooved gettin inside her pants..." He burst out laughing again, gasping and hiccupping as he did.
John looked highly embarrassed. Sarah, however, had a cool expression on her face.
"Is he gonna remember any of this?" she asked Cameron.
"His blood alcohol level indicates that he will have difficulty recalling anything that happened while under the influence." stated Cameron.
"Including now?"
"Yes. Including now."
Sarah smiled. "Excellent." she said.
Then without warning she kicked Derek right between the legs. Derek squealed in pain and fell from Cameron's hold onto the floor.
"Mom!" protested John.
"Nice!" laughed Kara. She held up a hand. "High five?"
Sarah smirked. "Oh yeah." She slapped Kara's hand.
A/N: Next Chapter is a mixture of both Present Day and Future War. In the Future, Kara attends her first Sunday Mass. In the Present, the Connors find a piano that for some reason came with the safehouse.
A/N2: Wazlib's line "The world is fucked up. It's upside down, and somebody's got to turn it right side up" is an almost word-for-word quote from what Lieutenant Gaeta said just before he and Zarek mutinied.
A/N3: In the scene between Weaver/Goodnow and Fischer, Weaver has actually assumed the form of Petty Officer Goodnow, the Resistance Fighter from the USS Jimmy Carter killed by the T-1001 in "Today is the Day, Part II". I didn't know what her first name was, so I just made one up.