Terminator: Rise
LOCATION UNKNOWN…
2027
The Terminator series Hybrid Infiltrator 950 slowly walked down the dimly hallway of the underground bunker. The cybernetic retinas implanted into his eyes automatically adjusted to the darkness as data from the last transmission burst from Doctor Fischer flashed on the lower right hand corner of the virtual heads up display.
He grimaced feeling the slight invasion of a data packet that was part of the transmission upload into his internal wireless array. A string of numbers and letters flowed across his HUD. The I-950 took in a sharp breath of air as he felt the stinging sensation of the new data upgrade the existing security software that prevented reprogramming from Skynet or the Resistance. Placing a trembling hand against the cold concrete, steadying himself as the updated continued. Beads of sweat formed on his forehead as he closed his eyes, trying to ignore the pain flaring across his neural pathways.
Fischer had come through on his promise to provide enhanced security programs to the renegade I-950s that were hiding from both Skynet and the Resistance. These updates would prevent anyone from trying to tamper with the I-950s programming and trigger a brain aneurysm.
The I-950s were still mostly human. They were mostly made up of prisoners, refugees, or unlucky souls that were captured in machine raids. Most of them did not survive the process of being transformed into a hybrid that was mostly still human, but with ten to fifteen percent of his or her body implanted with cybernetics. The implants also gave the transformed individual enhanced strength and senses. Theoretically the I-950 series could outwit a Terminator T888 in tactics and combat on the battlefield. The I-950 had one advantage that the T-888 could never have, a human mind. I-950s could still make decisions and have free will while the rest of the machines relied on instructions from Skynet.
'Maybe, that's why the project was terminated after the arrival of our latest member less than two years ago...'
The I-950 let out deep breath as the update finished and his HUD flared with static for a brief moment as the system rebooted.
'The latest 'addition' was dead upon arrival, but Skynet experimented with human and animal corpses in the past few years to understand the body...apparently it found a way to bring the dead back to life…'
The I-950 stopped his morbid train of thought and sighed in relief as his systems returned to normal. He paused as he ran a few tests and was satisfied with the outcome, everything was perfect. He looked down at the tablet in his left hand and resumed his walk down the tunnel towards the destination a few doors down.
Reviewing data file – 09/04/2027 - TOK-716
Classified by Skynet as a theoretical timeline. No evidence found to support evidence of altered future...file to be processed for deletion.
Subjects: Thomas Haden(unknown)
Jessica Kell- series TX. Model number-716 (unknown)
No evidence supports existence of subjects in current timeline.
Memory file continues...
With that Savannah Weaver determinedly strolls out of her office followed by a couple of heavily armed soldiers, leaving Jessica and Thomas alone together. Jessica tilts her head gazing softly at him with hurt blue-eyes. Several seconds of deep silence pass between the two of them, before Thomas walks up closely to her looking into her face with hard eyes.
"Jessica," Thomas harshly says.
"Yes," She replies tilting her head.
"I don't give a fuck about what you told Weaver," He says with a hard edge to his voice. "I know you told her. That's why she was bitching me out. Trying to get me to respect you as an equal."
"That is her order," Jessica silently told him.
"I don't care," Thomas defiantly told her. "I don't have to prove anything to anyone! Not Weaver, not the Resistance, and sure as hell not you!"
The virtual interface of the data began to flicker with interference and cascade failures. The system began to crash as the information being transmitted through the virtual render shattered into millions of destroyed fragments like a broken mirror.
Warnings flashed brightly out the fractured virtual heads up display. As the I-950 let out a silent scream, trying to reestablish the connection to the failing render. It felt the sudden shock of a data overload crash through it's neural pathways. Alarms blared like silent screams demanding attention as permanent damage would soon become apparent if the connection was not immediately cut.
Then the automatic safeties came online and forced the I-950's disconnection from the failing render.
'No, please!' It silently screamed through a contorted mouth as the I-950's body was racked with uncontrollable spasms. 'I need to know...'
WARNING! DATA CORRUPTED...enabling safety overrides.
The female I-950's brown-eyes immediately shot open and she gasped for breath. Her trembling hand went to her neck as she struggled to breath. It felt like as if someone had suddenly put a cold hands on her throat to choke her to death. She crashed to the concrete floor of her quarters in a trembling heap as her vision flickered and became hazy. Tears slid out from behind her eyes and slid down her pale face and onto the floor.
'This is all wrong!' she wanted to scream out, but the vice like grip that continued to haunt her throat seemed only to get tighter. 'It's all wrong!'
She continued to struggle with the invisible iron like grip locked around her throat, silently screaming out for help. She was too panicked to activate her wireless array and send a call for help...what she did not realize it was her own hands locked around her throat.
Warnings screamed on her HUD as her vitals began to crash. She was crushing her own windpipe and as the darkness began to set in, another voice that seemed from a long time ago whispered to her fading mind.
"You lied to me." The one that looked exactly like her accused. How was this possible?
"I told you where the camp was." she quickly lied once more, hoping the mirror image of her would just go away and leave her alone.
"You told me that your sister gave you that bracelet." The double spoke once more with a hint of anger in her voice.
"What does that have to do with anything?" She defiantly asked. Her brown-eyes quickly looked around the cold room again as if searching for an escape from this nightmare. She knew it was useless. There was no escape.
"We found these on some of your friends." Her mirror image dropped some identical bracelets onto the table.
"Why are you wearing them. It has something to do with the Connor Camp?" Her double asked.
"No." She answered quickly as the fear became evident.
"It's a pass! To get into the camp. You were going to send me there without it. They would have known what I was. You lied to me." Her double reached over the table and grabbed her by the neck.
"I'll never help you get to John Connor." She said staring down the thing choking her.
Or to his son…
I'm so sorry, Thomas...please forgive me…
Suddenly she felt her hands let go of her neck as if some type of internal struggle had been won. Her breath came out in ragged gasps and she laid there on the cold concrete in a fetal position, eyes screwed tightly shut. She rocked herself trying to deal with the bottled up guilt for the last two years.
"I'm sorry, Thomas..."
"I'm sorry..."
She did not hear the sound of the door to her quarters being forced open as two fellow I-950s rushed in. One had concern for her on his face as he took out a small device from his jacket pocket and leaned down next to her fallen body.
The I-950 placed the device onto her clammy forehead and allowed it to take a reading of her severely overloaded neural pathways. With his right hand he carefully brushed away her sweaty brown hair and felt her neck for a pulse.
The device beeped twice and transmitted the results to the I-950. He let out a sigh of relief.
"She's fine," he nodded to the other I-950. "Her vitals are stable, and her mechanics are at acceptable parameters."
"Okay," the other I-950 said, collecting the medical device. He stood back up and looked down at his partner. "You are aware that she still has an emotional attachment to him?"
"I know, Paul," The I-950 called his partner by name. "Her memory should not be intact after the procedure, but she refuses to let him go."
"Then what do we do, Kurtis?" Paul asked.
"I don't know," Kurtis replied as the female I-950 let out a pained moan and began to stir.
Paul looked down at his partner and placed a loving hand on his shoulder. "Then, I will see you tonight. Make sure she is comfortable."
"I will," Curtis said as he watched his partner leave the room.
Curtis waited patiently as the female I-950 slowly opened her eyes and glanced up at him. Confusion settled in as her heart rate and breathing quickened. She was scared in simple human terms.
"It's okay, Allison," Curtis gently spoke to her in a soft voice.
"What happened?" Allison asked. She placed a trembling hand on her face.
"it looks like the data file you reviewed was either a trap or corrupted," Curtis said. "You generated a virtual render to analyze the data, and something inside that data triggered the cascade failure."
"Are you saying it was a trap?" Allison asked as she tried to pull up any remaining fragments of the destroyed data. There was nothing to retrieve from her still overloaded systems.
"I managed to connect a data extractor before your vitals crashed," Curtis told her, holding up the small black device for her to see.
Allison tilted her head and stared at the device as if repulsed by the very sight of it. " Can anything be recovered?" she hesitated before asking.
Curtis pocketed the device and pursed his thin pale lips. "I'll assign a team of I-950's try and recover the information but there is no promise. That data almost killed you."
"Do you think Fischer could have been behind it?" Allison coldly asked.
"Possible," Curtis replied. "Fischer has no motive to betray us. He willingly gave us the much needed upgrades. The source of corruption inside the data has to be elsewhere."
Allison tilted her head, considering all her options. She remained quite for several moments as she ran all the different scenarios through her mind. She finally reached a solution.
"Find Fischer and bring him in for questioning."
"Of course," Curtis replied as left. He closed the door to Allison's quarters and left her to her own thoughts.
Allison felt took a deep breath and ran a trembling her hand through her hair. She walked over to a cracked mirror that was haphazardly fixed to an old beaten dresser. She took a moment to take in her reflection and stared back into a reflection of her that should be dead.
'Hell, I was dead,' Allison smirked. 'That metal bitch killed me.'
Allison continued to stare into the broken mirror. She watched as tears streaked down her face and soak into the fabric of her shirt. Her hands trembled as she picked up a faded manila folder and flipped it open. Inside the pocket was a series of photographs taken by a spy that was inside the Resistance.
Allison finally looked away from her reflection. She stared down at the photos and a brief smile touched her lips. Tears fell onto a photo of a ten-year-old Thomas with blonde hair and blue-eyes training with his father, John Connor..
Allison carefully tore the picture in half, letting the side with John fall lazily to the floor to the floor. She tenderly touched the image of Thomas and realized she was crying, closed her eyes, placed the picture just above her chest. She calmed her breathing and carefully slid the picture of Thomas into the breast pocket of her jacket.
Allison then returned her attention to the pile of pictures, picked them up, and begin to leaf through them. Her eyes fell onto the pictures of the machine that looked like her. She felt sickened just by looking at it. From the rumors that she had heard that thing had been reprogrammed and now served as John's bodyguard. There were whispers that John was also extremely close to this thing, and from the next few photographs Allison looked trough it was true.
She felt sickened at the thought that metal bitch replaced her.
Allison angrily wadded up the photos of her double and threw them against the wall. She let out a scream that seemed to unleash the last two years of how she truly felt. She quickly regained control of herself and picked up the rest of the pictures.
She saw more photos of Thomas, but something seemed off. Allison stared at one of him being approached by her double. There was a look of pure terror oh his face as the machine seemed to say something that upset him. He was crying in the pictures.
The next few photos showed John running over to his son. He knelt down next to his son, looking like he was trying to reassure him. John's machine even seemed to be confused. She appeared to also try and comfort him, but he shrugged her off and ran towards another figure.
Allison's breath caught in her throat as she recognized the tall statuesque blonde that warmly opened her arms up for Thomas. The little boy wrapped his arms around her waist and squeezed as hard as he could. The blonde affectionately stared at Thomas and the expression on her perfect face was almost serene.
That blonde was also a Terminator named Jessica Kell.
Allison's breath came out in sharp gasps as she began to feel jealously ,not directed at her double, but at the perfect blonde bitch that was the real reason she was killed.
Allison knew why she was given a second chance at life, even if she was part machine.
It was her destiny to protect Thomas from The Resistance and Skynet.
Now she would fix all the mistakes.
"I came back for you, Thomas," Allison whispered. "I'll be the one to protect you. I left you once...but I'll never leave you again. I promise."
To be continued...
