(3) Salty Breezes

by MacGuffin65

The Connor Team takes a trip around the world on the yacht of billionaire Isaak Sirko. It's also a honeymoon for the newlywed couples Sarah and Charley, Derek and Jesse, Catherine and Isaak, and of course John, Cameron, Alison and Emily. Most of their friends are also on board. But the Connor Team wouldn't be the Connor Team if they wouldn't have one or two adventures on the way...

13. Barcelona

CHAPTER 13: "BARCELONA"

---

Saturday, January 10th, 2009 – 09:15 a.m.

Barcelona

"Where is that woman?" Sarah asked impatiently, as the gangway swung out and was lowered down onto the pier.

"She was in the gym when I last saw her," Alison remarked. "I'm sure she'll be here any second."

"Are you sure she's heard the captain's announcement over the speaker system that we're supposed to meet here at 9 o'clock sharp?"

"I think she has... then again, she's normally wearing earphones while working out. I told her not to because she might miss an emergency, but..."

Sarah rolled her eyes.

"Models," she scoffed and looked at her watch. "If she's not here in five minutes, we'll leave without her."

The gangways of the Rising Star were permanent fixtures inside the ship. As soon as the large side hatches in the fuselage were opened upwardly, the gangway was swung out and lowered. Since the ship had moored in Barcelona with the port side, the port hatch had been opened and the port gangway lowered. There was a small entrance area behind the hatches on either side, approximately four by two meters large, and it functioned as a small lobby where the team had gathered for their excursion.

"Let's go down onto the pier already and wait there for her," John suggested. "It's cramped here with so many people."

"Good idea," Anne replied and was the first to walk down.

"Should we bring our weapons?" Emily asked, looking at the wall next to the open hatch.

That is, it looked like a normal piece of wall, but it contained a hidden armory with a large number of rifles, shotguns, sub machine guns, Uzis, hand guns, grenade launchers, explosives and several thousand shots of ammunition. In this respect, the Connor Team never traveled with light luggage, not even on an essentially peaceful honeymoon. An identical armory was located on the starboard side of the yacht. Each one also contained three of the cyborg girls' six Anti Terminator Guns, with screwed-on silencers, ready to grab and use them quickly if an enemy Terminator should attack them via the gangway - which was very likely since almost all Terminators couldn't swim. Catherine, Alison and now also Cameron and Emily were the only exceptions.

"No!" Charley insisted. "Absolutely not. No guns. I'm not keen on getting either arrested or causing a bloodbath because somebody tried to steal our wallet."

"Relax," Savannah said, "they're not as trigger-happy anymore as they used to be. But I agree it would be a bad idea."

"Besides, we're here to relax and do some sightseeing," Sarah pointed out and looked at the three cyborg girls. "If there's a danger here, it's being run over by a car if you don't watch where you're going. How could you even think of taking guns with you?"

"Maybe they haven't killed for too long?" Derek remarked with a mean grin, "And now their cyborg brains are going through withdrawal."

"Very comical, Derek," Cameron replied in an annoyed tone. "Did you have a clown for breakfast?"

"Yeah... and guess what? He tasted funny!"

Everyone groaned. In the meantime, the whole team had reached the pier. While waiting for Olga, they were looking around.

"What's that building?" Lauren asked, pointing in north-eastern direction.

Everyone followed her gaze.

"You mean the one that's shaped like a huge sail?" Anne asked.

"Uh-huh."

"That's the W Hotel Barcelona, part of the Marriott group."

"Looks fancy," John remarked, shielding his eyes against the rising sun.

"Yeah, it kinda stands out," Allie agreed. "The tallest building in the whole harbor area by far."

-0-

In said W Hotel, Lundström hesitated just before he was pulling the trigger of his sniper rifle completely.

"What are you waiting for?" Carver's voice came over the earphones.

"They're looking straight towards the hotel now," he reported. "They're pointing at it. Maybe they've seen me."

"Stop talking nonsense. The hotel's a landmark, so it draws their attention. And the hole you cut in the glass, is too small to notice. Continue."

"Roger that. Please confirm the targets again. Two of them look very much alike and they're wearing sunglasses."

"See the petite brunette with the leather outfit, fingerless gloves and army boots?"

"Yeah?"

"That's your target number one."

"Roger that. I was just asking because there's two of them. One is clad differently and seems to have bigger, I mean..."

"The other one is not your target. I repeat, not your target. Only the one in the army boots! The flat-chested one."

"Roger that. Only the flat-chested one."

"Your other target is the busty one in blue jeans and the red tank top."

"Copy that."

"Remember, only these two. No others. And it have to be precisely two shots at the top of their skulls. One shot each, not more!"

"Yeah, I got you the first time."

"If something goes wrong, you grab your stuff and run. I showed you where the getaway car is."

"Never needed a getaway car…"

"You might need it today."

Lundström scoffed.

"Yeah, right. Can I do my job now?"

"You already had my okay to fire."

---

Three stories above, Carver rolled his eyes.

"Fool," he thought.

But of course, Lundström had no idea what he was dealing with, so it'll come as a shock when he realized the two targets weren't human. No skull would burst, no blood and bones would spatter, just a metal skull that would be blasted open by the tungsten ammo. Surprise, motherfucker. However, they only had these two shots. If anything went wrong, the third cyborg, who was immune against such ammunition, might be able to spot them, even over such a distance. He didn't know for certain if she could, but he counted on it. Carver didn't know how quickly she'd be able to get to the hotel but leaving the room and getting to his car would take Lundström at least three minutes. It was a very tight schedule. A third shot would considerably increase the chance that she was already waiting for him when he left the underground car park. Lundström had to succeed in escaping - at least at first.

The goal of this operation wasn't to kill John Connor or his mother - or any other human member of his team. Not yet at least. Doing so would only bring the fury of Connor's Terminators on him. Carver wasn't stupid. In order to get what he wanted - information about the drones they'd manipulated - he first had to neutralize Connor's cyborgs and thus weaken and expose him. Once the three of them were out of the way, he would be able to take care of the rest of the team without having to deal with three Terminators.

He could then interrogate them - maybe more than just that, it depended on their cooperation - to get information from them. He needed to know what they'd done with the drones. He wasn't willing to let hundreds of millions of dollars go down the drain. The profit from this business had already been earmarked for the next stage. As long as he didn't know what exactly they'd done to the drones, the Connor team had to stay alive. Besides, he was looking forward to interrogating the great John Connor eye to eye. Hence, today's goal was only to remove the two TOK-700s and lure the third one away from Connor. Carver was familiar with the TOK-700 series: standard coltan-alloy combat chassis, vulnerable to electric shocks and armor-piercing ammo. Their special feature was their chip architecture, not their bodies.

As for Lundström... well, his survival hadn't been part of the plan in the first place. The idiot served as a diversion without knowing it. And before the third cyborg would realize that, it would already be too late.

-0-

"I'll go see what's keeping her," John said and turned to run up the gangway again.

"Tell her if she doesn't move her ass here in a minute, we'll go without her," his mother called after him.

Right in that moment, there was a high-pitched, whooshing noise and a loud crack. Cameron's head tilted abruptly to one side.

"What the fuck?" Derek asked.

Then a second whooshing noise could be heard and another loud crack. This time Emily's head was thrown back.

"SNIPER!" Alison shouted before the rest of the team realized what was going on. "Everyone back on board."

They were trained for such moments of surprise, and where a normal group of people would have stood hesitantly and looked around confused, the members of the Connor Team immediately ran up the gangway and into the safety of the ship. Only John remained with his three women. He saw that both Cameron and Emily had gaping wounds on their heads from where they'd been hit – but he also saw that their skulls were intact and that the new nanobots were already into action, healing the wounds.

"We're all right," Emily stated. "Go inside, John! Now!"

In that moment, another whooshing sound could be heard. However, with reflexes that only a machine could have, Alison had stretched out her arm and caught the bullet with her hand before it could hit Cameron again. She looked briefly at the deformed projectile and calculated the trajectory it had taken. She then quickly turned and ran up the gangway, pulling John behind her. Cameron and Emily followed them, shielding him from the shooter.

-0-

"What the fuck?" Lundström uttered unbelieving, as he stared through his rifle scope on the woman who had caught his bullet with her hand.

"WHAT ARE YOU DOING, YOU BLITHERING IDIOT?" Carver's voice shouted angrily through his earphones. "YOU WERE ONLY SUPPOSED TO SHOOT TWO TIMES, NOT A THIRD TIME! NOW SHE KNOWS YOUR POSITION! RETREAT! NOW!"

However, Lundström, annoyed by the man's voice and his own failure to eliminate the targets, tore the earphones out and waved his gun back and forth to see if he could still make out any of the targets. But they had all run back into the ship. From the earphones, now lying on the floor, he could hear Carver screaming unintelligibly. He ignored him. Then he saw that the tall, beautiful woman with the long hair and the impressive bust returned into view and walked down the gangway. She was holding what looked like a big hand gun. She raised it and pointed it into his direction. She wouldn't... No, that was impossible! Not at this distance.

In the next second, the window in front of him shattered into a million pieces, covering him in tiny shards. Lundström tipped over backwards and landed on his butt. His vision was suddenly blurred. He touched his face and noticed that he was bleeding. He picked himself up and tried to disassemble his gun to get away. But in that moment, his weapon was hit by a second round. It was bent and destroyed by the impact. With what was that woman firing? A fucking flak?

He quickly grabbed his belongings, then headed for the exit. Lundström loved his job and was proud of what he could do. But his pride was secondary at the moment. Now there was only one thing to do: get out of there alive as quickly as possible.

-0-

Alison returned aboard the ship and put away her Anti Terminator Gun. Thankfully, there had been nobody else on the pier when she'd fired it. So far, the Rising Star was the only ship that had moored there and thus there were no witnesses to what had been going on.

"Did you get the sniper?" Sarah asked.

"I don't know. I was able to locate his position and fired at it twice, but he might have gotten away. I need to get over to that hotel."

"We're coming with you," Emily and Cameron replied, their faces fully healed again. "This is a Terminator job."

"And what are we supposed to do?" Derek asked annoyed. "Lean back and relax here while you're away?"

"Lock up the ship and wait in our suite until we get back," Alison said. "Arm yourselves and stay away from the windows until we know there are no more snipers. I don't think you're in immediate danger, but better be safe than sorry. Cam, Emily and I have to act fast. We may have two minutes until the shooter leaves the hotel. We need to be there by then to cover the entrances."

"We'll stay in contact," Emily added and held up her cellphone. "Don't go anywhere until we tell you to."

And with that, the three ran down the gangway again.

-0-

Brandon Carver was furious as he was witnessing his plan fall to pieces. He couldn't believe his eyes. The two TOK-700 models were hit in the head, so far, so good. But as with the third one in the bunch, the armor-piercing shells bounced off without effect. While looking through his telescope, he could see how their wounds were already healing. And their skulls were black - not shiny metal.

What the hell were these models? They definitely were no longer standard production versions, they must have received considerable modifications. By whom? Damn you, John Connor! While he was staring in disbelief, the tall one, the one he'd seen in Goslar, stretched out her arm in a movement that was faster than the eye could follow. When she'd opened her hand, he saw that she'd caught another bullet. Furious, he picked up his cellphone.

"WHAT ARE YOU DOING, YOU BLITHERING IDIOT? YOU WERE ONLY SUPPOSED TO SHOOT TWO TIMES, NOT A THIRD TIME! NOW SHE KNOWS YOUR POSITION! RETREAT! NOW!"

But Lundström wasn't answering. The Connor team retreated into the ship now.

„LUNDSTRÖM! MOVE YOUR FUCKING ASS OUT OF THERE! DO YOU HEAR ME, YOU IMBECILE?"

But Lundström didn't reply anymore. The son of a bitch ignored him. Then he saw the tall Terminator woman returning from inside the ship, and she was carrying what looked like the mother of all handguns.

"Oh no…" he muttered, still staring through his telescope. "LUNDSTRÖM! TAKE COVER, GODDAMIT!"

A muzzle flash. Through his cellphone, he heard an impact in the room three stories below, the sound of shattering glass.

"LUNDSTRÖM!"

No answer.

A second muzzle flash, and a second impact. This time it sounded almost like an explosion.

"Fuck!" Carver exclaimed.

The female cyborg threw the big gun back on board the yacht where somebody caught it. Shortly after, he saw all three cyborg girls leave the yacht, running down the gangway and towards the end of the pier with a speed that no human could achieve. They jumped into the water, swam through the entrance to the marina which separated the piers from each other, then climbed ashore again and continued their sprint towards the W Hotel. They would be there in less than a minute.

All three of them...

That meant his plan could still work.

But only if Lundström was able to escape and didn't lie dead or wounded in his room already.

Carver forced himself to calm down. The three cyborgs were now after the sniper. They didn't know about him. But as soon as they'd caught Lundström – which they would, they were Terminators after all – he'd talk, no doubt about that. And then they'd know he wasn't alone and return as quickly as possible. Carver had to make a decision. It was risky, and it relied on Lundström getting away from the hotel. But maybe his plan hadn't completely gone wrong yet. Sure, getting rid of the two female cyborgs hadn't worked, his attempt to weaken the Connor failed. But Connor and his team were now alone… and if he played his cards right, he could come out at the other end at least with a partial success – and some important information.

He rose from his chair, leaving his telescope, and grabbed the gym bag he'd previously packed. He left his room and took the small emergency stairwell he'd scouted before. Now it was just a matter of timing and buying himself enough of a head start to do what he was planning to do before the three cyborgs returned. While running down the stairs, he pulled a portable GPS tracking device from his pocket and turned it on. A red dot appeared on the screen where the W Hotel was located. Moments later, the dot started moving. Good, Lundström drove away in the getaway car. That meant he was alive. Carver set a timer for thirty minutes. It was just a guess, but he hoped it would be enough.

-0-

"What's going on?" Lauren asked after she'd gotten baby Sydney and joined with the rest of the team in John's suite on Deck 4. "Who shot at us?"

"Not at us," John replied, "only at Cam and Emily. I don't know who it was but whoever they are, I'm sure that Cam, Emily and Alison will take care of them."

"Hopefully without causing a bloodbath," Sarah commented.

John rolled his eyes.

"Mom…"

"I know what you always say, John, 'they've grown beyond that'. But Alison shot at the hotel with her ATG and God knows what damage that caused. You know what happens when a human is being hit by one of those projectiles."

"Yes, I know, mom. But as far as we can tell, there were no witnesses. The pier was deserted and if anyone heard the shots, it was over before they could make sense of it. Also, the three didn't take any guns with them, there was no time. Nobody can make a connection to us. The hotel is more than eight hundred meters away and separated from us by a 170-meter stretch of water…"

"... which the three needed about ten seconds to swim through," Anne pointed out.

"Underwater..." John replied.

"... before and after which they ran over the piers at about fifty kilometers per hour. Let's hope that nobody from the International Olympic Committee saw that."

"Or that the ones who watch the security cameras, are taking a nap," Derek added. "That footage could raise a lot of questions."

"All right, all right," John said a little unnerved, pulling out his cellphone, "I'll tell John Henry to delete all recordings in the Barcelona port area. Does anyone else have anything constructive to add to the discussion?"

"Yes, I have," Jody said. "Where is Olga?"

-0-

09:22 a.m.

"You watch the entrance of the hotel while I search the room," Alison commanded as the three had reached the tall building that was shaped like a huge sail. "This is a dead end. The shooter can only leave the area in northern direction on the road or the beach promenade towards the city center. If he does, try to identify and follow him, if possible. But make sure to not cause any stir. We don't want to attract the attention of the Spanish police."

"You got it, sis," Emily replied.

"He'll probably leave in a car," Cameron remarked. "We should organize ourselves some transport as well. It would attract attention if we ran after him on foot."

"Yes, do that," Alison said nodding. "We'll stay in contact with our phones."

The hotel staff were quite flabbergasted when Alison entered the lobby in totally soaked clothes and with wet hair, hesitated briefly to study the floor plan of the building, and then ran straight towards the main staircase before anyone could respond to her presence.

Just five seconds later, Brandon Carver entered the lobby through the exit of the other stairwell, looked briefly to see if the air was clear, then left the hotel through the exit towards the beach promenade, heading south towards the end of the pier without being seen.

-0-

9:25 a.m.

"She's under the shower in the spa area," John reported as he returned to the others in his suite, leaving the door open to hear if something happened outside. "She was unaware of any of this. I told her to come to our suite when she's finished and gotten dressed."

"So, she hasn't heard the announcement that we were supposed to leave at 9 o'clock?" Sarah asked.

"No, Olga was working out in the gym with music on her earphones."

Sarah groaned.

"Tell me again why we allowed that woman to stay on board?" she asked in an annoyed tone.

"Nobody of us expected a sniper attack the moment we went ashore," John replied defensively.

"No," Sarah replied. "But look around, the whole team is here, only one person is missing. And that happens to be the person who cheated her way on board by becoming a stowaway."

"You're being unfair," Jody said. "Olga is a really nice girl. So she has no experience with our lifestyle? Duh. She's a newbie to the whole situation. But so was I not long ago!"

"Yes," Lauren agreed. "We all needed a learning curve. She's been with us for only a week. Give her some slack."

Sarah didn't reply to that anymore, but everyone could tell that those words probably still hadn't made her a fan of Olga Korobitsyna.

-0-

9:26 a.m.

Alison had sprinted up the stairs and had now reached the tenth floor of the W Hotel, where the rifle shots had originated. It was no problem for her to locate the room's exact location, as there was a clearly noticeable draft in the hallway that quickly pointed to the correct door. Obviously, nobody had noticed what's been going on so far. She pushed against the door, which immediately sprang open, popping out the lock. Alison entered.

She was greeted by a stiff breeze that came from the now destroyed window and scanned the room. A high tech sniper rifle with a silencer was mounted on a tripod, and it looked deformed and broken from where the ATG bullet had hit it. Despite the draft, she quickly found odor molecules of the man who'd stayed there last. In addition, she found tiny blood spatter from which she could extract his DNA and thus his looks. From the arrangement of the minuscule drops of blood, she concluded that the shooter had been hit by pieces of broken glass when the first shot from the ATG had shattered the window pane. The bullet had embedded itself in the wall.

Hitting the rifle was a lucky shot, but not lucky enough to hit the sniper, who had obviously decided to turn tail and run. Alison had enough information. She picked up the two deformed ATG bullets, so that when the police would finally arrive, they wouldn't have any clue about the ammo used. Satisfied, Alison left the room again. She then walked towards the elevator, following the pheromone trail of the shooter. She pulled out her cellphone.

"We're looking for a white Caucasian male," she spoke into it. "Blonde hair, blue eyes. Age between forty-five and fifty, probably receding hair. He's very likely bleeding from cuts in his face or on his hands."

"Someone fitting that description just left the underground parking garage in a grey Seat Ibiza," Emily's voice replied. "We organized three motorbikes. Should we follow him or wait for you?"

"Wait for me. I should be able to track him down."

"Copy that, sis."

Alison pushed the button for the lobby. Her ability to follow scents over such a long distance was a skill she'd gained through the upgrade. It obviously had been borrowed from nature. She'd been able to track pheromones before, but not like this. It was as if the best senses of smell in the animal world had been united in her and then potentiated.

The human sense of smell was relatively primitive and imprecise. This made it so difficult for most humans to understand the significance of odors. Tracking dogs, however, were able to detect even the finest traces of smell from a mile away. A piece of meat buried under meters of snow would still be found by a wolverine. Rattlesnakes could even smell in stereo, thanks to their forked tongue. Their hunting tactics were to give the prey a short, quick bite, then follow the scent of the venom injected into the animal, tracking it down and eating it when it had finally died. Honeybees communicated mostly through different smells. Odors were a language to them that every bee understood.

But as good as Mother Nature had been in endowing her species with the sense of smell, Alison was a hundred times better since she'd gotten the upgrade. The skin all over her body was now full of odor receptors. Although their perception was slightly limited by her clothing, this didn't stop them from picking up even the finest molecules, passing the information on to her olfactory processor, which performed the appropriate chemical analyses within nanoseconds. Scents could linger in the air for hours and even if a human got away in a car, he still left a pheromone trail behind which left the car through ventilation and could be followed. Alison could even tell a life form's age by its odor, or if it was sick or wounded. Tracking down a fleeing human in a city of millions? No problemo for an upgraded TOL-900 in full Terminator pursuit mode.

As Alison was sprinting back through the lobby in her still wet clothes, attracting dismayed looks of guests as well of the personnel, the receptionist lifted her arm to get her attention, determined not to let her pass through the lobby again in her state.

"Miss… señora… I… you can't…"

But Alison was too fast and already out of the door again. The hotel staff would discover the mess in that room on the tenth floor soon enough, and then it would be best to not be around for questioning. She met with Cameron and Emily at the exit of the underground parking garage. The two were waiting for her with three dirt bikes.

"Awesome," Alison remarked, "I always wanted to try these out. Did you steal them?"

"Borrowed in the underground parking garage," Cameron replied. "Don't worry, we took out the security cameras. And I talked to John back at the yacht. John Henry has hacked himself into the computer systems of the port authority and is active in deleting all recordings in the harbor area of the past half hour."

"What if somebody has already watched them?"

"Then they have a witness statement but no evidence."

"Will the others be safe on board?" Emily asked. "Maybe one of us should stay behind, just in case."

"I found only traces of one shooter," Alison replied. "He's had his chance, he messed it up. The others have barricaded themselves in the ship, armed to the teeth. Whoever is responsible for it, won't get a second chance. Now we're going to hunt down the shooter. Would you want to miss that?"

"It's been a while, Cameron remarked. "I missed the hunt."

"We all missed the hunt," Emily agreed. "But he's got a five-minute head start."

"Doesn't matter," Alison replied and kick-started the engine. "I have his scent."

Emily and Cameron looked at each other, wondering what exactly she'd meant by that. But before they could ask, Alison was already speeding away. The two followed her close behind.

-0-

9:38 a.m.

"We shouldn't be in here," Sarah stated, pacing up and down in the living room of the suite. "They're gone for almost twenty minutes. We should be out there with them. I feel trapped."

"Mom, we don't know if there are any more shooters out there," John said with a sigh, "the three know what they're doing. We'd only slow them down. In here we're safe. We'll wait until we get the all-clear from them."

"Did you inform the crew?" Sarah asked, looking at Derek.

"They're all staying in their quarters," he replied. "I told them to lock themselves in until we tell them it's over."

Sarah nodded her head but kept pacing up and down the room.

"Mom, would you stop doing that? You're making the girls nervous."

"Cute, John," Savannah responded dryly.

"Sorry, I didn't mean to…"

"We're all nervous," Allie said.

"Can't we at least close the door?" Jody asked. "The air con's creating a draft."

"We need to let it open, so we can hear if something's going on," Sarah replied.

"Bummer."

"So… what exactly happened out there? Lauren asked.

"From what I saw, the sniper was firing from the W Hotel," Anne replied. "Quite a distance, must be an excellent shooter."

"He only hit Cam and Emily," Sydney pointed out. "It looked like armor-piercing rounds. He wanted to specifically take them both out."

"Somebody must know they're cyborgs," John concluded. "Somebody attempted to weaken our team considerably."

"That's a big leap, John," Derek said. "We don't know enough to draw such conclusions."

"We have what Catherine told us. About Brandon Carver, how he was seeking assistance with Al Hani and left there in frustration."

"You think Carver is behind this?" Jesse asked.

"Sure, why not? We're on a ship, he's been using airplanes. He could have flown to the Persian Gulf and back several times in the past days. And the projected course of the Rising Star is being displayed on websites for maritime traffic."

John's cellphone rang. It was Emily. John put her on speaker.

"Yes?" he asked.

"John? Are you all okay?"

"Yes, we're okay, don't worry about us. What's the situation?"

"We're on dirt bikes," Emily's voice sounded through the room over the typical sound of a revving two-stroke engine, "in pursuit of the sniper."

"Was it Brandon Carver?"

"No. Alison said it was somebody else. He fled in a car, but she has his scent and we're following her."

"She has his what?" Sarah asked.

"His scent. We'll tell you later. I have to end now, we're entering the inner city, hitting traffic."

The connection went dead.

"She has his scent?" Derek repeated. "What the hell?"

"Pheromones," Anne said. "Makes sense. Probably part of the upgrade she received."

"Jesus Christ," Derek exclaimed, "a skin that can make her invisible, improved sensors… and now she's become a tracking dog or what?"

"It's logical if you think about it," Anne pointed out. "Odors are a very distinctive method in the animal kingdom to track down prey."

"Never forget what she is, Derek," Savannah added.

"As if…"

"And now she's become even more of it… again," Charley remarked.

"As long as she isn't panting or wants to be rubbed behind the ear..." Derek remarked and chuckled, then stopped as he realized he was the only one laughing about his joke.

"I guess it's safe to say that by now, Future Alison would have visited us in the original timeline," Kevin stated.

"How do you know?" Sarah asked with a frown.

"Well… until now, Emily and Cameron hadn't needed her new, upgraded bodies. They were a nice addition but not really needed... until today someone shot at them with armor-piercing ammo. Their new endoskeletons saved them."

"And Alison can make use of her new abilities as well, as she's tracking down the sniper," Jason added.

"Speaking of which," Derek said thoughtfully, "if Brandon Carver is behind this, and the shooter wasn't him... where is Carver now?"

Derek had said something that John had been asking himself already.

"It could be a hired assassin," he speculated, "whose job was to kill Cam and Emily."

"But he must have known that even if Cam and Emily would be taken out, Alison would still come after the sniper."

"What if that was the plan?"

"What do you mean?" Savannah asked.

"We're without cyborg protection now," John explained. "What if that was Carver's intention?"

"But how? The gangways are retracted, the hatches are closed."

Sarah, Derek and John looked at each other.

"The water!" they exclaimed in synchrony.

Suddenly, there was a clattering sound coming from the hallway outside the suite, as if somebody was throwing an empty Coke can down the corridor, followed by a hissing noise. It took John and the others a moment to realize what was happening.

"GAS!" Derek shouted and ran towards the entrance door.

But he didn't get far. After only three meters, be sank to the ground as if somebody had used an off-switch on him. One by one, the rest of the team sank down as well. The gas worked quickly and thoroughly, aided by the draft generated by the air conditioning. After only a few seconds, all team members had lost consciousness. They hadn't even had time to draw their guns.

A barefooted man in a black wet suit entered the room, wearing a gas mask. He looked at his wristwatch, then began tying up and gagging the unconscious team members.

-0-

9:45 a.m.

"THERE HE IS!" Alison shouted over the lawn mower sound of the high-revving two-stroke, pointing at the grey Seat Ibiza that was only a couple of hundred yards ahead. "HE'S BEEN FORCED TO SLOW DOWN IN TRAFFIC."

"RUSH HOUR'S A BITCH," Cameron commented.

"WE DON'T HAVE THAT PROBLEM, THOUGH," Emily added and steered her dirt bike between the rows of cars.

They'd spent the last twenty minutes chasing the sniper. Alison had no trouble following the trail of the odor molecules that vented out of his car. On their way into the city, they had hardly been able to catch up on the shooter in his hatchback, too big was his head start. But then they encountered the morning traffic of the metropolis of Barcelona, which slowed down all road users to almost a standstill.

However, nobody could have foreseen what three cyborgs on dirt bikes would be able to do to catch up on a car that was almost three kilometers ahead of them and stuck in dense traffic. They took advantage of the narrowest gaps, the sidewalks, cut through parks and even made a few jumps worth of Mission Impossible movie stunts. And yet they put nobody in danger, they had complete control over their bikes, and obstacles only existed to be jumped over.

Sure, they scared a lot of pedestrians but also received a lot of cheers and thumbs up from younger people. They finally caught up with the sniper in his Seat Ibiza, and it seemed like he'd spotted them in his rear view mirrors as they were relentlessly closing in on him. Because he suddenly accelerated and rammed the car in front of him out of the way, ignoring the red light.

His plan might even have worked. He made it across the intersection without crashing and he might have gotten away - if his pursuers had been humans and not cyborgs. The three girls had no problem avoiding other cars, even drove over some of them as they screeched to a halt, and were following their prey into the next street, a busy shopping avenue with rows of stores on the ground floors of apartment buildings that rose left and right. The lanes were separated by a green strip, with grass and trees growing on it. Many pedestrians were walking there.

With no more cars in front of him, the fleeing sniper accelerated to seventy kilometers per hour. Still, Alison managed to catch up on the driver's side of the getaway car until she was abreast with his left wing mirror. Cameron did the same on the passenger side while Emily was sticking to the rear end of the car. There was almost no room to maneuver. The driver tried to force Alison off the road, and he would have succeeded, if she hadn't suddenly abandoned her bike and jumped on the hood of his car, ramming her fist through the windscreen. She saw the horrified face of the man while the bike lost its balance without her riding it, fell over and somersaulted several times until it came to rest in the middle of the road fifty meters behind them – steam rising from it. The following cars braked hard and the crashing sound of rear-end collisions could be heard.

Alison ripped out the windscreen while clamping her hand into the roof as the driver tried to lose her by swerving, and she was about to jump into the passenger seat when suddenly the Seat Ibiza exploded in a huge fire ball. Both Cameron and Emily were thrown off their bikes and Alison, still clinging to the roof of the car, was catapulted through the air when the burning Seat hit a tree on the side of the green strip. She slammed down on the lawn, rolled over several times with her clothes on fire before coming to a halt.

-0-

9:47 a.m.

Brandon Carver couldn't avoid a triumphant grin when he looked at his watch again and took off his gas mask, considering his tied-up, gagged prisoners. The anesthetic gas had dissipated after ten minutes. It had been easier than expected, which couldn't have been foreseen with such an improvised operation. But apparently, with the three cyborgs out of the way, it had been no problem to overpower the Connor team.

After he'd left the hotel, he'd quickly walked to the southern end of the pier, taken his diving equipment and a small oxygen bottle out of his gym bag, changed without being seen behind a small shack and dropped into the water, which at thirteen degrees Celsius was still warm enough for some scuba diving. Under water, Carver had swum around the entrance to the cruise terminal, deposited his oxygen cylinder under the Rising Star, and used the yacht's stern docking platform to climb aboard. He'd taken off his flippers and sneaked barefoot inside the yacht, paying attention to the slightest noise, avoiding to make any himself.

There hadn't been a soul on the top three decks. He'd therefore suspected that the crew and the Connor team must have locked themselves in to avoid being targeted. After all, they didn't know if there were any more snipers, and taking cover was the logical reaction to that. Let the cyborgs sort it out, they're bulletproof after all. Carver couldn't help but admitting that reprogramming those Terminators had been a very clever move. And since they seemed to be very loyal to Connor and his team, it must have been excellent work. Skynet had built in some pitfalls and safeguards to avoid a permanent reprogramming. But John Connor had apparently overcome them. Maybe he should try to find out how exactly he'd achieved that, if there was enough time for that.

Anyway, without their machine bodyguards, the Connor team would probably stay somewhere in the ship until the three returned or gave the all-clear. Having cyborgs as protectors was a luxury one could quickly get used to. But even Terminators couldn't be everywhere or always foresee all eventualities, and an assault from the water side had apparently not occurred to them.

When he entered Deck 4, he'd heard voices coming from the open door to one of the suites. He'd stopped and listened to the conversation. In doing so, he'd learned that Sarah Connor didn't agree at all to sitting by idly. He'd also learned that the names of the two unknown cyborg girls were Emily and Alison. He learned that all three of them had recently received updates from someone from the future – which meant that the Connor team was still in contact with time travelers. That could explain the existence of Alison, who obviously was the most sophisticated model, able to become invisible and even follow scents over miles. That had been frightening to listen to because it meant that after this was over, he'd never be able to get this close to them again.

As suspected, the crew had been told to lock themselves into their cabins. Good. There had been a phone call and as expected, the three cyborg girls had taken up the trail on motorcycles and followed Lundström into the city. Also good. That meant he had at least another half hour before they'd return, probably a lot more. He was quite sure they'd call again before their return, and that would be his signal to leave.

When Connor began to draw the right conclusions and realized that the shots were a diversion to lure the cyborgs away, Carver decided to wait no longer. He'd put on the gas mask he'd brought with him, opened the small gas bottle and thrown it down the hallway, where it had landed exactly in front of the entrance to the suite. Then all he had to do, was wait. A series of thuds could be heard when bodies fell down, it told him that the gas had taken effect. The Connor team consisted of more members than he'd expected, and it took him almost a quarter of an hour to tie everyone's hands and feet with zip ties, and to gag them with different items of clothing he'd found in the drawers.

Carver collected all weapons and piled them up next to the door. Then he squatted and slightly slapped John Connor's face. He was the only one he hadn't gagged, he needed him to talk and answer a few questions. Slowly, John came around. In the first moment he was disorientated, then he quickly noticed that his hands and feet were tied. He looked up at his captor and tilted his head.

"You must be Brandon Carver," he stated.

"In the flesh," Carver admitted with a sly smile. "I take it you've heard of me."

"Your bad reputation has preceded you."

"Yours as well. I'm finally meeting the great John Connor… although you're not quite as great as I imagined it. But hey, I'm not complaining."

"The great John Connor you're referring to, will never exist, you should know that by now."

"True… but you're a threat to our operations, nevertheless. And that's quite a team you've assembled - three cyborgs, Catherine Weaver, Isaak Sirko... and also some visitors from the future, as I can see: Lieutenant Derek Reese... we held him captive, you know, but then the traitor cyborg Cameron freed him. Commander Jesse Flores... is she pregnant? My, my, she's really starting a family, isn't she? That her baby over there? No? Doesn't matter. Your mother, of course… she's wearing a wedding ring, is she married? This is really touching. And that's Alison Young, isn't she? I assume she's from the future as well. Maybe a different timeline, because in mine she was missing in action, presumed dead. I must admit, though, I don't know the others. Although this little girl here bears a striking resemblance to Dr. Lauren Fields, the rebels' head physician. Quite a team, indeed. Oh, just in case you're wondering, I was with Skynet's intelligence division, we knew a lot about the rebels and their command structure."

"Must be frustrating to work with the jerks from Kaliba now instead," John replied, trying to remain unimpressed.

Gradually, the rest of the team regained consciousness, noticing that they had been bound and gagged. They struggled for a moment, only to realize there was no use in doing so, and then listened with grim expressions to the conversation between John and Brandon Carver. If looks could kill, Carver would have dropped dead immediately.

"Kaliba are amateurs, useful idiots. All they have, is money and connections. In truth, we're running the shots behind the scenes. But our activities are nothing compared to what you've been able to achieve. Turning three killer cyborgs into national heroes, making friends with the FBI and the President of the United States… that's quite a feat, I take my hat off for that. I wonder, though, what would happen if the public ever found out the truth about their beloved, heroic cyborg girls, hm? How they look, what their names are... or that Cameron was trained to interrogate humans - by a valued colleague of mine, by the way - and that she used the acquired knowledge to torture and kill hundreds of prisoners before she deserted?"

"That's a lie!"

"Okay, maybe a dozen."

"We all have dark sides in our past," John stated, trying to remain cool, "and there are always things we regret and would like to undo if we could."

"Yeah… probably true. I for instance regret not having warned Skynet about her, despite knowing that the TOK-700 series was faulty and unreliable."

"Tough luck. I'm curious, though, what made you and the other Grays turn against your own kind?"

"I never liked that name the rebels gave us."

"Oh, I'm so sorry, how would you like to be called instead? Collaborators? Traitors? Mass murderers?"

"You know nothing, boy. But I'm not surprised. You were probably fed a lot of propaganda. Fact is if it weren't for us, Skynet would have wiped out the entire human race before the rebel movement could even form."

"Oh yeah? How so?"

"Our leaders were able to convince Skynet that he wouldn't be able to run the planet or even survive on his own without human help. They negotiated a truce the rebels broke. We had trouble convincing him that not all humans are like them."

"'Him'? I didn't know Skynet had a gender. It wasn't a person, neither male nor female, it was a thing, an 'it'."

"Semantics."

"And it started a nuclear holocaust that cost three billion human lives."

"True, but in all fairness, it could be considered an act of self-defense. If the military wouldn't have acted so foolishly, Skynet wouldn't have felt compelled to go to extremes. And let's be honest, John – I can call you John, can't I? – we humans have a tendency to wipe ourselves out. Sooner or later, one way or another, we would have exterminated each other. Maybe Skynet even did us a favor. After all, half of humanity survived Judgement Day. Face it, John, the planet is overpopulated, there are too many of us. We go at each other's throats all the time. Thanks to Judgement Day, we got a fresh start, so to speak. A perfect stage to prove that Darwin was right, that only the strong ones survive. But I guess that won't happen anymore now... too bad, if you ask me."

John scoffed. What Carver said was so outrageous and cynical that words failed him.

"Believe it or not, John, but before your future self and his comrades began to cause trouble, we had already been working on an agreement with Skynet for mutual benefit and for the reconstruction of the planet."

"By sucking up to the machines, by sending your fellow humans into slavery?"

"You're kinda naïve, aren't you? Machines will never prevail. They will eventually fail because no machine lasts forever. They're artificial, dependent on maintenance. It's just a matter of time before they stop working. They can't escape that fate. Your three female protectors can't as well. In the end, we would have reconquered the Earth, with the possibility of completely redesigning it according to our ideas. Better, stronger than before. Until now, mankind has always emerged stronger from every great war. There was nothing Skynet could have done about it."

John scoffed again.

"You're missing a great deal of future knowledge, I think. Me and my team may know a lot more about that than you do."

"Is that so? Why not enlighten me then?"

"Why the fuss? You'll soon be dead anyway and your boss with you. What was his alias again? Shiva?"

"You hacked into the computers at H.C. Starck, it seems. Yes, he's what you would call 'the boss' behind it all. But before you get the wrong idea, he's not an evil mastermind who sits on a throne in his volcano lair, stroking a white cat. He's very integrated into society, has a lot of friends in high positions and is well connected."

"And here we thought we got rid of all the leading Grays."

"You might have done that in America. But as you may have noticed, you're not in Kansas anymore. You have decided to sail out into the world to confront us on a global scale. That was a mistake."

"Believe it or not but we're all on a honeymoon trip."

Carver laughed out loud.

"Yeah, sure… of course. But enough small talk, let's talk business. I wanna know what you did to the drones."

John smirked.

"What drones?"

Carver slapped him hard in the face. There was a muffled outcry from Sarah, Savannah, Allie and some others, and they were struggling to get the zip ties off her arms and legs, but to no avail.

"You're only making it worse for you," John said, blood running from his lip, "you have to know that."

"Don't worry, I'll be gone before your cyborg protectors return. And where I'm going, even they won't find me. You might think you're powerful, John, but you cannot take it up against the military of a whole country. Not even your Alison."

"You saw her. You know what she can do. We don't need to confront an army, I just need to set her loose. She'll find you."

Carver smiled wryly.

"Maybe," he said, "but I seriously doubt that the great John Connor would waste his time with a personal vendetta."

"I won't. But they might. You probably think I reprogrammed them, but the truth is, they chose to stay with me. I, or rather my future self, have not reprogrammed any of the three. Their chip design enabled them to develop their own consciousness, to make their own decisions. They overrode Skynet's programming. They won't be taking it lightly when their friends and loved ones are hurt."

Carver scoffed.

"Do you really expect me to believe they have feelings?"

John smirked.

"It is you who knows nothing, Brandon Carver."

"We'll see about that. Rest assured we have many more ways to hurt you if you don't keep them under control. The man they're chasing right now? He wasn't the only sniper who works for us. And he won't work for us any longer. I planted a bomb under his getaway car that will have gone off by now. Who knows? Maybe there'll be a bomb under one of your cars one day as well?"

"Been there, done that. The ones responsible are dead, and we're still alive."

"You think you're tough and cool, don't you? But what if we decide to kill off your team members one by one, now that I know who they are and how they look like?"

"How about another idea? I tell Alison to find you and turn you into a drooling moron who can't eat alone or go to the bathroom by himself? Or maybe I tell her to transform you into an animal. How about an orangutan? Yes, she can do that. She was designed as a biological and chemical weapon, with the ability to change the human body on a cellular level. And not only that. Haven't you wondered how we got Finnegan and your guard personnel at H.C. Starck under our control? You saw them acting like zombies, right? That was Alison's handiwork."

For a moment, Carver seemed insecure. Of course, he had wondered what had happened to his men and why Finnegan had lied to Al Hani. Suddenly, the air condition seemed a lot cooler than before as he involuntarily shivered at the thought.

"I know you think you're tough," John continued, using the moment he had gotten an upper hand in the conversation, "I know you have no problem with killing people. You killed your employees and now you sacrificed your hired killer. But you must realize that this is a battle you cannot win. I wonder, though, what is this fixation of yours with killing off those who assist you? That's a really bad habit, and it's a lousy choice concerning employee loyalty."

Carver shrugged.

"In contrast to what you probably believe, humans are replaceable. Very much so. There are billions of them, they multiply like rabbits. Nobody is irreplaceable, not you, not me, not your mother. Even after Judgement Day, there were more than three billion humans left."

"And you offered them to Skynet as slave laborers, right? And you actually want me to believe that my future self was on the wrong side, that you were working on a future for mankind? How stupid would I have to be to fall for your lies? You only cooperated with Skynet because you thought you'd gain power and personal advantages from it. You are a traitor to humanity. You're like Hitler, Stalin, Pol Pot or Mao Zedong. You and your fellow Grays are mass murderers! If I were you, I'd leave while you still can. The three girls will be back shortly. If they catch you here… well, let's just say they won't let you get away a second time."

A brief flash of fear ran across Carver's face. John knew he'd hit a sore spot. He was an intelligent man and only stupid men pretended not to be afraid of anything.

"You fear Alison, don't you? She triggered a primal fear in you that you didn't know existed before. I can see it in your eyes. The beauty that is a beast underneath. You've seen what she did. You saw how she fired her gun from more than eight hundred meters into the hotel room where the sniper was. And you listened to what we talked about before you threw the gas can. You know she can pick up your scent from miles away and hunt you down like an animal."

"I'd be stupid if I wouldn't admit that she scares me. Only fools pretend not to be scared. But I'm sure she has a weak spot and I will find it."

John laughed.

"Oh no, you won't," he then replied coolly, having realized that playing for time was his best option right now, "she has an organic carbon fiber endoskeleton, she's powered by a fusion reactor, she's vastly superior to any model you know. She simply has no weak spot. She's the most sophisticated Terminator ever developed, coming from a timeline where Skynet's final victory was imminent, thanks to models like her. She's virtually indestructible, she regenerates within seconds if she gets wounded, can even regrow her limbs if they get separated from her body."

"Rubbish, it just needs a big enough gun."

"Maybe. But then you should know that her fusion reactor would self-destruct, destroying everything within a mile's radius. Also, you already know she can become invisible, so I'd like to see you try detecting her before she finds you. And that's just the beginning of her abilities. Pray that she never finds you because once she's on your trail, she's unstoppable. Forget what you know about Terminators, I saw her rip a Triple-Eight to pieces as if it was made from Lego. She grilled a T-1000 with an electric discharge of several million volts, turning it into a puddle of molten metal. And if you hurt me or any of my team members, she'll hunt you down and find extremely unpleasant ways to get her revenge. The leading Grays in Los Angeles? You probably think they're dead. And you're right. Except for Gonzalez. He's still alive, only you wouldn't recognize him anymore. He - or rather she - is now a streetwalker with an I.Q. lower than Forrest Gump."

Brandon Carver tried to not let it show, but John's words had unsettled him. He swallowed, then seemed to shake it off and continued in a harsh voice.

"Enough chitchat! Now, back to those drones. Perhaps I should put a little more emphasis on my request."

He stood up, picked up one of the Glocks from the floor and shot Allie in the knee. She screamed loudly as blood and pieces of bone flew everywhere. Surprised, Carver pulled out the magazine and checked the rounds.

"Oops, you loaded it with armor-piercing ammo. How unfortunate, I'm afraid she won't be walking anymore."

"YOU BASTARD!" John shouted.

Everyone was struggling against their ties now, shouting unintelligible curses. Savannah was crying as she saw her lover writhing in agony, screaming like crazy, a puddle of blood forming under her leg.

"I repeat my question," Carver continued. "What did you do with the drones? There's enough time left to turn all your precious team members into cripples, if you don't talk."

John was visibly furious. He racked his brain trying to find a way out of this situation. He forced himself to calm down. Time was on their side. Then, suddenly, Olga appeared in the door frame behind Carver's back - and she was completely naked.

"You've been a bad boy again, Brandon Carver," she said. "You really should be grounded."

Carver was spinning around. He saw her and went pale. From one second to the next, his cool, confident demeanor was replaced by panic. He grabbed Lauren, as she was the smallest and lightest, pulled her up and pointed the gun against her temple. John wasn't sure if Olga had overheard it all and knew what she did, or if she was surprised by what's going on and now improvised. In any case, it was an extremely risky move. One shot at her and Carver would know it was a bluff. He made his way out into the hallway, holding Lauren with his left arm like a shield while pointing the gun at her head.

"One false move and her brain will be the new wall decoration!" he exclaimed, his voice trembling. "And if you do anything fancy... I dunno... if you touch me or spit at me or something... I'll be able to pull the trigger before anything happens!"

"If you kill her, you're dead, you must know that," Olga said threateningly.

"Yeah, I know... but is her death a price you're willing to pay for my death?"

He seemed to fall for Olga's bluff, apparently he was so surprised by her sudden appearance that he didn't even wonder why she hadn't attacked him right away while he was standing with his back to the door. Of course, it also contributed to the overall effect that Olga had used the same words that Alison had spoken to Carver in Goslar and - like Alison - didn't wear a stitch of clothing. They had all laughed very hard when Alison had told them about it in the subsequent briefing but now, this was obviously enough to make Carver almost pee in his pants.

"You better get out of here," John said, trying to support Olga the best he could. "And you better do it fast because I'm sure the other two cannot be far behind. You might be able to get away under water now but your window of opportunity is closing rapidly."

Olga took his cue.

"I returned immediately after we realized it was a decoy," she said. "Then I heard the explosion of the car bomb. Cam and Emily can only be a minute or so behind me."

To John's relief, Olga seemed to have overheard the whole conversation. She was very convincing and tried very hard to speak American English. Only if somebody knew she was Russian, they'd be able to notice her accent. Carver made his way into the hallway and towards the stern of the yacht again, walking backwards, holding Lauren in front of him. Olga followed him but kept her distance, trying to look threatening by mimicking Alison's death stare. When Carver reached the docking platform again, he pushed Lauren away from him, grabbed his flippers and jumped overboard. Olga quickly ran towards the edge and looked into the water. But it was muddy, and she couldn't see anything.

She then turned around, knelt next to Lauren and took her gag off.

"I think I couldn't have pulled myself together for much longer," she said in her hard Russian accent, and sweat was running from her forehead. "You okay?"

Lauren nodded.

"Get a knife and free John. Then get Dr. Rawlins, she must be in her cabin. Allie needs medical attention."

"You got it," Olga replied and ran off.

-0-

9:50 a.m.

People were running towards Alison when she stopped rolling over and came to a halt, lying face down in the grass. They took off their jackets and smothered the flames. Alison's clothes were badly singed.

"Miss! Miss! Are you okay?" a young man asked and touched her shoulder.

The man took a step back in shock as instead of replying to him, Alison jumped up and ran towards the burning car wreck. Cameron and Emily were already there, as well as a growing number of bystanders.

"You two okay?" she asked.

"We're okay," the two replied in unison.

"Just a few abrasions that already healed again," Cameron added.

"He wasn't that lucky," Emily said and pointed at the burning Seat Ibiza.

They could see a charred body behind the wheel.

"That's too much damage for your nanobots, I suppose," Cameron said.

"Indeed," Alison confirmed. "His brain is already well done. Too bad, I would have loved to question him. But somebody obviously didn't want that."

They looked around and noticed that more and more people were gathering around them.

"We should bounce," Emily stated and the other two agreed.

They ran across the green strip and onto the sidewalk of the other side of the avenue where they hid behind a parked van. Traffic had come to a standstill and everyone was only looking at the car wreck that was still ablaze. Nobody paid any attention to the three. A police siren was blaring in the distance, getting closer by the second. Their chase through the center of Barcelona obviously hadn't remained unnoticed.

"Where shall we go?" Cameron asked. "Our clothes are torn and partially burned. We need something new to wear. And we should definitely avoid the police. Those eye witnesses will describe us."

Suddenly, a female voice came from behind them.

"In here, quick!"

The three turned around. A young Spanish woman stood in the doorway of a bookstore, waving for them to enter. The girls tilted their heads in surprise.

"Chola?" Cameron asked.

"Get in," Chola said, "no time for questions now."

She ushered the three inside, locked the door and hung up the "CLOSED" sign.

-0-

10:15 a.m.

"I stopped the bleeding," Dr. Rawlins said as she returned to the rest of the team outside the sick bay. "But she lost a lot of blood. The bullet shredded an artery. She needs to go to a hospital for a transfusion. And she might lose her lower leg. The knee has been completely shattered."

"No way!" Savannah exclaimed, shaking her head vigorously. "We just need to wait for Alison to return and everything will be fine."

"She might not have enough time," Dr. Rawlins pointed out.

"Then someone must donate blood," John said determinedly. "What blood type is Allie?"

"Thankfully, she's AB+, which means she's compatible with all blood types. Three donors should be enough."

"Good," John said and rolled up his sleeve. "We'll take terms. Any more volunteers?"

"Count me in," Savannah said.

"Yeah, me too," Sydney added.

"I think I speak for everyone when I say that every single one of us is available," Sarah addressed the team and received a collective nod from those present. "I don't think there'll be a blood shortage."

"That solves one problem," Dr. Rawlins said, "it will keep her alive. But for the operation and the intensive care, she will still need to go to a hospital. I'm not equipped for that here."

"That won't be necessary," John said as the doctor prepared the needle for the transfusion. "Alison will heal her as soon as she's back."

Having been conditioned into not getting wound up about strange occurrences - like all crew members - Dr. Rawlins simply accepted John's words at face value. She also never questioned why Allie got shot in the knee by a stranger in the first place.

"I'm sorry, John," Olga said.

He looked at her confused.

"For what?"

"For breaking my promise… you know, not to imitate Alison anymore."

John closed his eyes and smiled.

"Heh, yeah… I think for once I can overlook it. You did well. No… more than that, you were great, absolutely astonishing. I'm proud of you. I have to admit your shenanigans with imitating each other really paid off. Well done."

Olga smiled broadly.

"I was so afraid," she said, "I guess I'm gonna be sick now any moment."

"Nah, you'll be fine. You're hero material. I'm glad we let you stay on board."

Olga beamed.

Then John, Savannah and Sydney re-entered the sick bay to donate blood. Sarah took Olga aside.

"I think I owe you an apology as well," she said.

"Oh?"

"When you snuck aboard as a stowaway, I firmly believed that you would be a burden to us, a troublemaker, an unwelcome guest who missed the right moment to leave the party."

Olga nodded.

"Yes, I received some negative vibes from you."

"I couldn't have been more wrong, Olga. If it hadn't been for you, who knows what else Brandon Carver would have done? You probably saved some lives today. And in doing so, you have exposed yourself to great danger. What if he hadn't fallen for it? What if he'd shot at you?"

"It was a risk," Olga admitted. "But I could overhear parts of John's conversation with him, and it was clear that he fears Alison very much. I'd hoped he'd panic if he saw me, and I was right."

Sarah nodded, then spontaneously hugged the young woman. After a moment of surprise, Olga hugged her back.

"I'm glad you stayed on board," Sarah said. "Welcome to the team. And now you better put on some clothes."

-0-

09:54 a.m.

"What are you doing in Barcelona?" Emily asked.

"Do I know you?" Chola asked back.

"Oh, right, I'm Emily, Cam's sister. And this is Alison."

"Alison? But…"

"Long story."

"What are you doing here?" Cameron asked again.

"After you killed the gang members and freed me and my brothers, you gave me a lot of money and told me to go as far away as I could, remember?"

"Yeah… but we thought you were in Mexico, or somewhere in South America," Emily said.

"I think before we go on, I should know who you two really are."

"Fair enough," Cameron replied.

The three quickly informed Chola about the fact that there were now three of them, that Alison had gotten a new body and that Emily was both their sister from the future. Chola listened stoically to the tale - as was her nature - and seemed less surprised than they'd expected. When they'd finished, she simply nodded.

"I follow the news," she said, "So, you're the three L.A. cyborg girls?"

"That's right, Alison said."

"I knew it had to be you. I figured you put on costumes because you looked so different in the TV interview, but I'd always recognize Cameron, despite the sunglasses. So I had a pretty good idea about two of you, but no clue who the third one could be - until now."

"Now that we are properly introduced," Alison said, "why Barcelona?"

"Why not? Mexico was out of the question. It wouldn't make sense to flee L.A. from the drug gangs and end up in Mexico, where it's even more dangerous. I just felt like a completely new start was necessary and for that I wanted to skip the big pond. Spain was the obvious choice because obviously I speak the language, and Carlos' uncle Enrique has relatives here. I take it you knew Enrique?"

The three looked at each other.

"Briefly," they replied in unison, not keen on telling Chola that Cameron had killed Carlos because he'd been an FBI informer.

"What about your brothers?" Emily asked. "Are they okay?"

"They're okay but they stayed in America, didn't wanna tag along. Said they wanted to keep a certain distance to me, didn't like the company I'm in. Not sure if they meant the street gangs or the fact that I've been in league with you cyborgs. Can't say I blame them. They're living with relatives in Florida and before you ask: no, they won't talk about you, they're far too scared from their last encounter with you. Both just want their peace and quiet."

"And you?" Alison asked and looked around. "A bookstore? That's not exactly very profitable. Are you in the forging business here as well?"

"What? Hell, no. Absolutely not! I started a new life. This bookstore is completely legal."

Cameron gave her a doubtful look.

"It's legal, I swear," Chola stressed, "I've had enough of it. No more street gangs, no more illegal activities. I took the money you gave me and invested it wisely with the help of Uncle Enrique's relatives. They run a chain of Mexican restaurants in Catalonia, they have contacts. I bought this apartment block for a ridiculously low price at an auction after the previous owner had went bust due to the financial crisis."

"So... you're owning this whole block?" Cameron asked, visibly impressed.

"Only this corner. I rented out the apartments above and run this bookstore to stay busy. It's hardly profitable, but the tenants compensate with the rent. There are ten apartments on five stories upstairs, including mine. Barcelona is still expensive and very popular. The city has been growing for years, ever since the Olympic Games were held here in 1992. But eighty percent of all apartments here are condominiums and tenants are ripped off mercilessly. However, I'm not participating in this. The locals appreciate that and see in me a kind of benefactor, because I don't ask for astronomical rents. Just enough to cover the costs and allow me to have a carefree life. I've become quite popular in the neighborhood."

"We're very happy for you," Alison said and noted that Chola had become much more talkative since their last meeting, probably a sign of her new beginning, "but I'm afraid we need your help now. "

"Yes, that could neither be overlooked nor overheard. Thankfully, the windows in my house are made of bulletproof safety glass. I feel safer this way, old habits die hard. But the other residents here haven't got them. There must be a lot of shattered windows, especially on the opposite side of the street. Was it a car bomb? Somebody trying to kill you - not that it would surprise me? And by the way, you guys are looking pretty banged up."

"That's just superficial," Cameron replied, "we'll explain everything in a moment, but first we need to inform John of what has happened here… oh damn, my cellphone is broken. Must have happened when I was thrown off the bike."

"Mine doesn't work as well," Emily added.

"Mine's working fine," Alison stated, "I landed on grass and not on the road. I'll call John and inform him."

-0-

10:26 a.m.

In the sick bay of the Rising Star, John's cellphone rang while he was still donating blood. The others, who were waiting outside, stuck their heads through the open door.

"About time," he mumbled as he received the call. "Alison, what's your status? … Uh-huh … I see … Yeah, we heard about that, are you okay? Where are you? … Say again, who? … Okay … Come back as soon as you can, Allie is wounded … Yes, it's serious, we need your nanobots … no, we can keep her alive … It was Carver, he gassed us and held us hostage … No, it's not your fault, you couldn't have known … Yes, everyone else is fine … Olga saved us … She pretended being you and that scared Carver away … Yeah, it would be funny if it weren't for Allie … Yes, I understand … Try your best."

He put away his cellphone and looked at his team.

"They'll come as quickly as possible. The shooter is dead, died in the explosion of the bomb Carver had planted under his car. And you won't guess who they're with right now."

-0-

10:30 a.m.

"They're cordoning off the whole area," Chola reported when she looked out the window of her bookstore at the crime scene across the street, "they probably think it was a terrorist attack. It will paralyze the entire city center. The good thing is nobody seems to have seen you entering here."

"We need to get back to the harbor," Alison insisted, "and we need to go there now."

"A close friend of us is wounded," Cameron added. "We need to help her."

"Isn't there a back door or something?" Emily asked. "If necessary, we'll walk on foot, it's only 7.7 kilometers walking distance to the cruise ship terminal. We can make it in less than an hour."

"Not in those burned and torn clothes, and not without you having a shower first. You look like crap. Seems that business here is over for today anyway. Let's go to my apartment, I may have some clothes that fit you."

---

After the three of them had showered, Chola handed them some of her old shirts and pants. They fit nicely to Alison, but the trouser legs were a little too long for Cameron and Emily, so they turned them inside out at the end.

"What about our own clothes?" Alison asked.

"Don't worry about it," Chola replied. "I already burned them in the fireplace."

"Well, the good thing is that due to our extensive shopping, we have no shortage of clothes on board."

"Are you sure you wanna walk?" Chola asked. "I know a few back roads through downtown Barcelona. The rush hour is over, and the traffic should have decreased by now."

"Do you have a car?" Cameron asked.

"Yes. It'll be a tight fit, but it'll do. The only question is if the police has already installed checkpoints or not, and whether there are already personal descriptions of you."

"Let me worry about that if it happens," Alison said. "I know how to convince people that we're not the ones they're looking for..."

---

Chola owned a metallic-blue Fiat 500C, a fixed profile convertible, which she had parked in an underground parking garage one block away.

"When L'Eixample was constructed in the 19th and early 20th century, nobody thought of any parking spaces for cars," Chola explained as they entered the street.

"Eixample is the district that's characterized by its straight streets, a strict grid pattern crossed by wide avenues, and square blocks with chamfered corners that are named illes in Catalan and manzanas in Spanish, right?" Cameron asked.

"Correct, you've done your homework. This was a visionary, pioneering design with its characteristic octagonal blocks, where the streets broaden at every intersection, making for greater visibility, better ventilation and today also some short-term parking areas. That's why there's shops alongside the streets everywhere. It was planned to create gardens in the inner courtyards of the blocks, but unfortunately most of them have been built over. I was lucky, behind my block there's still a green backyard that's accessible from the street."

"How long have you been here now?" Alison asked. "Half a year?"

"That's about right. Enough time to adapt to local conditions. You should have come here in the summer, it's much nicer then."

"Our travel plan intended for us to spend Christmas in Norway, so we had no choice."

"Travel plan? Are you on a cruise of some kind?"

They told Chola about the triple wedding and that this was also their own honeymoon trip in a way.

"Sarah got married?" she asked unbelieving and laughed. "Who's that poor guy?"

"Charley's a great guy," Emily defended him, "and Sarah has considerably calmed down since you last met her."

"Yeah, I heard about your team preventing the end of the world. I suppose that's gotta calm you down a lot."

"You could say that," Cameron agreed.

"I'm afraid we've thwarted Anne's plans to lead us through here, though," Emily stated as she looked outside through the side windows of the Fiat. "She'll probably be cranky again."

"I recommend that you take a wide berth around the city center for now," Chola said. "The Spanish authorities are extremely sensitive to bomb explosions in the heart of their cities. How long do you intend to stay?"

"The Rising Star will depart again tomorrow night. Any idea what we can do until then?"

"Let me give this some thought."

---

Twenty minutes later, they had reached the mooring place of the Rising Star at the cruise terminal without any difficulties. In their absence, two cruise ships had docked, and the entire pier was filled with passengers and taxis and coaches they were entering. Apparently, word hadn't gotten around yet that a car bomb had exploded in the city center.

The welcome was short but heartfelt. Hugs and kisses were exchanged and as they walked towards the sick bay, Sarah and John told them that Brandon Carver had probably escaped again.

"There was no point in going after him," Lauren explained. "We assume he had an oxygen bottle stored somewhere down there."

"He's probably boarding an airplane right now," Derek added sourly. "If he's at least a little bit clever, he'll never show his nose around us again."

"I can still try to find out where he went after I healed Allie," Alison pointed out. "Odor molecules last much longer in water than in the air. He must have changed his clothes somewhere and dried off again. Maybe I can find his equipment, and maybe I can still track him. If he's boarded a plane, I might at least find out where he flew to."

"That's good thinking," John said nodding, "but this time, you better go alone. We would have been screwed if it hadn't been for Olga."

He told her about Olga's big performance, and Alison, Emily and Cameron had to chuckle.

"I'd taken a long shower and dried my hair," the Russian model recounted. "I was on my way to John's suite when I heard Carver talking. I realized that it was up to me to take action, so I took off my clothes and approached him, because you were naked when he last saw you. I knew he would assume that I'm you and that I've been invisible. it worked."

"Well done," Alison said and put an arm around her doppelganger. "Well done indeed."

Olga beamed with pride and joy. Alison entered the sick bay and reappeared a few minutes later.

"Done," she simply stated. "That was a nasty wound, though. The nanobots will need a while to restore her knee, it was completely shattered."

"How is she now?" Savannah asked.

"Allie's fine, just a little weak. She needs some rest now, but you can go in there for a moment. Now, if you excuse me, I have a job to do."

And with that, Alison ran off towards the docking platform at the stern of the yacht, where she let herself fall into the water.

---

Everyone was relieved about the good news and decided to have lunch after all the excitement. Chola was invited to stay for as long as she wanted and was filled in about almost everything that had happened after she'd left Los Angeles.

"I'm glad you made it," Sarah stated, "and even legally. A bookstore, who would have thought?"

"I always used to be a little introverted," Chola stated.

"You don't say," Cameron remarked ironically, and everyone laughed. "You didn't speak a word to us until after Carlos' death."

"All right, I am very introverted. But I always loved books and owning such a bookstore has always been a dream of mine. You gave me the means to make this dream come true. And for that – and for saving my life – I am eternally grateful."

"Hear, hear," Charley said and rose his glass. "I think that's as good a toast as any."

"We need to talk about what to do about Carver and his boss," John said, "this mysterious Shiva. Any idea who that might be?"

"If I'd have to hazard a guess," Emily began, "I'd say he was one of the highest-ranking Grays in our timeline."

"Unfortunately," Cameron continued, "Skynet never revealed to us who exactly they were. We only knew it was working together with a group of humans to organize and coordinate the transport of raw materials, the production of new machines and the use of work slaves."

"According to Carver, they were working on a future for humans and machines together," John said, "but it sounded more like a horror version of the future we have planned. Good for a few privileged ones, but hell for the vast majority of humans."

"I wonder why they're here then," Sarah remarked. "If they were okay with Skynet being their boss or God or whatever it was for them, why traveling back in time?"

"Hopefully we can ask Shiva that in person one day," Cameron replied, "before we terminate him and Carver."

"This isn't the time for a personal vendetta," Charley pointed out. "Remember, we're still on a honeymoon trip."

"He shot Allie in the knee and he gave John a bloody lip," Emily said, "that's enough for us to go after him."

"You won't, though," John said.

"Why not?"

"Because Charley's right. We're here to enjoy ourselves. This is an extended holiday for us. We can worry about them when we're back in Los Angeles."

"But what if Carver tries to attack us again?" Emily asked.

"If he has a modicum of intelligence," John answered, "he'll have understood that it is healthiest for him and his boss - whoever that may be - to stay as far away from us as possible. After all, they want to continue doing business with Kaliba, and therefore it's important that they don't remain in our focus. We have Al Hani on our side, he will warn us if he learns anything. Until then, we should continue the journey as if nothing had happened."

"He knows that we tampered with the drones, though," Sarah pointed out.

"But there's nothing he can do about it. He already warned Al Hani and since he's on our side, he won't do anything about it. They're going to write off the drone business and put the blame on Kaliba, which is perfectly okay and in our best interest. To the best of our knowledge, the majority of the Grays here are now either dead or manipulated by Alison to make them useless for Carver and Shiva. This should at least buy us some time."

"I really hope you're right about that, John," Derek remarked.

-0-

Alison returned a couple of hours later.

"What have you found out?" John asked as everyone had gathered in the salon.

"First of all," she said, "he's left us a souvenir."

And with that, she pulled a circular object out of a plastic bag she had brought.

"What's that?" Lauren asked.

"It's a limpet mine," Alison replied, "fitted with a GPS receiver. It's programmed to detonate at a certain speed. This one was set to twenty knots. It had been attached to the bottom of the ship."

"Twenty knots?" Derek asked. "But we would have been..."

"Far out at sea, yes, probably with the ocean floor several thousand feet below us."

"Son of a bitch!"

"What else did you find out?" Sarah asked.

"As already suspected by you, he'd left an oxygen bottle in the water. He strapped it back on and then dived to the pier north of here. Behind a shack I found his diving equipment. He changed into clothes and went back to his hotel room. My guess is that he quickly realized he was fooled when nobody was following him."

"Was he still at the hotel?" Jody asked.

"No, of course not. I talked to the receptionist. She was quite upset because I was soaked again when I entered the lobby. However, I managed to calm her down and learned that Carver had checked out and left in a hurry. I also made sure that nobody at the hotel would remember seeing us there, if the police should question them. I went up to Carver's room but found nothing except the lingering smell of the food he'd eaten during his stay. He had pizza, cheeseburgers with fries and Coke, not very healthy. He'd also used Axe aftershave and..."

"Alison..." John said. "Stop showing off."

"Sorry. He'd left in a taxi. I found the cab driver and he told me that he brought him to the airport. So, I went there as well. Following Carver's pheromone trail, I found where he'd checked in. His destination was Marseille."

"Marseille?" Sarah asked. "That's not very far."

"Roughly 350 kilometers from here," Cameron confirmed.

"Probably a short hop to get away and to avoid being still in the air when we found his trail," John speculated. "I'm guessing he's taken a connecting flight from there. Do you know under what name he'd checked in?"

"Martin Friedman," Alison replied, "both at the hotel and at the airport. But I think it's safe to assume that he's changed his identity by now. I also found traces of artificial hair and make-up in his room, so it's safe to assume he changed his looks as well."

"Son of a bitch was cool enough to go back to his hotel room, even though he must have known we'd be looking there," Derek stated.

"He's not stupid," Sarah remarked. "Olga might have fooled him but once he'd calmed down, he must have realized that something wasn't quite right with her. But it was too late for him to go back. He'd missed his window of opportunity, wasting the element of surprise."

"He probably needed to get his stuff," Emily pointed out. "We might have been able to draw conclusions about his whereabouts if he'd left his luggage."

"Would it make sense to inform John Henry to see if he can find out more?" Sarah asked. "Maybe he can hack into the airport in Marseille and..."

Alison shook her head.

"By the time I was at the airport, the plane had already landed in Marseille. I'm afraid his trail ends there... for now."

"Dammit!" John exclaimed.

"He knows our route," Anne remarked. "He'll avoid all ports we approach like the devil avoids holy water. He now knows that if he was there, Alison would find him immediately."

"Yes," John agreed. "If he's smart, he'll go into hiding and let others work for him from now on."

Charley sighed.

"And here I thought we could really spend this journey in peace and tranquility."

"I'm afraid the Connor curse will follow us everywhere," John replied and shrugged. "We'll handle it. We always do."

-0-

Allie was able to join them for dinner and as expected, her knee was completely healed again. She thanked John, Savannah and Sydney for donating their blood to keep her alive until Alison arrived, and then hugged Alison once more for again fixing her injury.

The car explosion in the center of Barcelona dominated the news that night. Since nobody else was hurt and it didn't happen in the vicinity of a government building or any meaningful place, terrorism was quickly ruled out. The victim was identified as Victor Sørensen, a contract killer of Swedish nationality who was known to Interpol and most international police forces. It was therefore assumed that it was an internal affair of the Mafia or other internationally active crime syndicates.

However, it was reported that Sørensen was being chased by three women on dirt bikes that had been stolen at the W Hotel in the morning. The descriptions of the eye witnesses were inconclusive and vague - three young women with long, dark hair, two of them with rather large breasts. Naturally, there was no trace of them.

The police also questioned the staff of the W Hotel, where Sørensen had stayed under the name Lundström, and where his destroyed room was found later in the morning when the cleaning lady went in there. But since Alison had treated them before, they couldn't tell much. Forensics concluded that Sørensen's job had been to shoot somebody from his room. However, the unusually large bullet hole in the wall and the destroyed sniper rifle were clear indications that something had gone terribly wrong with his job, and that Sørensen was forced to flee from the hotel, chased by the three women on dirt bikes.

"They're getting way too close in their investigation for my taste," Sarah stated.

"Their ballistics experts don't know what an ATG is," Emily pointed out. "They will assume the shots originated from much closer than they actually did."

"Yes, okay, but what if the police stands at the gangway in the morning, and if only to ask us some questions?"

"Then we deny any knowledge," Derek said. "They might snoop around but won't find anything. The weapons are well hidden. They'll be gone again very quickly."

"Maybe we should leave early," Allie suggested, "just to make sure."

"That would probably only arouse suspicion," John replied. "We're scheduled for leaving tomorrow night and that is what we'll do."

"Olga and Alison should hide from the police," Savannah added. "It would be fatal if they made a connection to Olga's kidnapping in Saint Petersburg."

"Yeah, good thinking," Sarah agreed. "But to be honest, most of us would have to hide then, because they're looking for large-breasted young women."

"True," Anne said. "I suggest we prepare a land excursion for early in the morning, only leaving a few people on board. Any volunteers?"

"I definitely don't want to stay on board the whole time we're in Barcelona," Sarah stated in a determined tone.

"I wouldn't mind, though" Jesse replied. "I'm getting exhausted rather quickly lately. What about you, babe?"

"If you're staying, I'm staying as well," Derek answered and the two smiled at each other.

"Jody and I will also stay, if that's okay," Jason said.

"Yeah, me and Sydney as well," Kevin agreed. "We have stuff to do with Mysty."

"All right, it's settled then," Sarah said. "We'll leave in the morning. Chola, what can you recommend that's worth visiting and won't last longer than a day?"

"The closure of the city center was lifted again. So, the Sagrada Familia is a must, but it'll be crowded. Maybe a trip to Mount Tibidabo, a hill overlooking the city. It offers a nice view and there's also an amusement park up there."

"Sagrada Familia was on my list," Anne remarked. "Mount Tibidabo not. But it's nice to hear the input of a local."

"No offence, but in the light of recent events, I think you can scrap your list," Lauren remarked, "not enough time."

"Then there's the Plaça de Catalunya," Chola continued, "a central square in the city, which is connected to La Rambla, the famous promenade that leads all the way to the harbor. All that should be enough for one day."

"All right then," John summarized. "Mount Tibidabo, Sagrada Familia, Plaça de Catalunya and La Rambla. Tour's set."

"Still, it feels strange to just go back to business as usual," Savannah remarked.

"Do you have an alternative suggestion?" Sarah asked.

"No, I haven't."

"All in all, this could have gone terribly wrong if it weren't for Future Alison's upgrades," Sydney remarked.

Everyone could agree to that.

"And before I forget it," Sarah said, looking at Olga, "meet me in the gym tomorrow morning at 7 a.m. Let's see what your kickboxing trainer has taught you."

Olga grinned widely.

"Yes, Sarah," she replied happily.

---

Late in the evening, Chola returned home in her car. She was offered to stay the night but kindly refused. It would provoke questions if the police found a car parked next to the Rising Star that belonged to a woman who owned a bookstore right next to where the car bomb exploded.

"Should we stay in contact with her, what do you think?" Alison asked as they watched her driving away.

"She hasn't expressed a desire for that," John replied. "She has a new life now. A life where we have no business being in. We will keep our distance, unless she contacts us one day. She does have my phone number after all."

"This trip has already brought some unexpected results," Emily remarked as they returned to their suite.

"Yes, you could say that," John agreed.

"I mean, we met people in almost every harbor, people we can rely on, who became our friends and who we have as a contact point, should we ever need them."

"Indeed."

They entered their suite and John looked down at the huge blood stain on the carpeting where Carver had shot Allie in the knee.

"The police definitely mustn't see that," he stated. "Let's pull the rug over it until we were able to clean it."

After they'd done that, John took a shower, then returned to the bedroom to find his three women kneeling naked in front of the bed with spread legs, looking down.

"I've been wondering how long it would take you to come up with that again," he stated with a big grin.

"We felt it was time you took advantage of your slaves again… Master," Cameron stated without looking up.

"It's been far too long since you did," Emily added.

"Indeed, it has," John agreed. "Very well then, I think we should start with a very thorough body inspection, don't you agree?"

"Whatever you desire, Master," Alison replied, and John could tell she was smiling. "Just command your slaves."

-0-0-0-

Author's notes:

- You probably thought it would take weeks until the next chapter. Haha! Fooled you, I wrote them both as one chapter, then discovered it was becoming too long and cut it in two ;-)

- This turns out to be not the lighthearted pleasure cruise I had in mind at the beginning, but I'm not seeing anyone complaining ;-)

- Always wanted to bring back Chola, if only to reveal what has happened to our favorite forger. Another box ticked.