Chapter Six
Eighty-six miles east of Kiev, Ukraine
Wednesday 2025 Local Time [1025 PST]
John peered out the windows of the Sprinter at the surrounding area, looking for any trace of a Kaliba facility. It all looked the same to him; miles upon miles of farmland, seemingly stretching on forever. Almost impossibly, the sky was getting even darker; what little light there was diminished by threatening clouds, waiting to open up and unleash a deluge on them. He hoped they could get in, take out the factory, and get out before that happened. He'd been cold and wet far too many times for his liking recently and he was starting to long for the dry heat of California again. Or Mexico. Part of him wished that Skynet would set up shop in sunny Australia: at least then they could spend some free time on the beach when they weren't hunting for it.
Thor signalled before turning off the E40 highway and onto a small dirt road that bisected a vast patchwork of fields. He slowed down further and pulled up next to a closed gate that led onto one of the fields, surrounded by a low wall and with pigs inside. There were only two structures in sight: a small outbuilding and a well. "We're here," Thor announced, turning the engine off.
"This is it?" John asked, peering into the gloom. All he could see was a shed and maybe three dozen soon-to-be bacon sandwiches wandering around the field aimlessly.
"These are the coordinates John Henry gave us," Thor said.
"I agree," Cameron added. "This is it."
"On a pig farm?"
Sarah shrugged. "Why not? They built an HK in a heating and air conditioning warehouse, then hid it on a cattle ranch."
John got her point, and a sobering thought came to mind. "If they've managed to hide a factory out here then they might have other places pretty much anywhere." It'd make finding them a lot harder in future; not as much a case of a needle in a haystack, but a needle inside a whole barn full of hay.
"We'll have to preserve any computer equipment we find, as well as T-888 chips. Be careful what you shoot," Thor said, looking specifically at Aegir as he spoke. As did Freyr and Sarah a moment later.
"What?" Aegir asked, returning their stares. "What?"
Sarah tapped his shoulder, indicating that she wanted to get out of the van quickly and immediately readied her Kalashnikov as the others exited with her. John, likewise, charged his weapon. "That's probably our best bet," he said, pointing to the shed. "That's where I'd hide a secret entrance."
"I concur," Thor said. "I'll take point. Aegir: with me. Freyr: watch our rear. John, Cameron and Sarah: spread out and watch for booby traps." The two Vanguards moved forward, scanning the area for any threats. There were no infrared signatures, no signs of energy, no movement; just the pigs.
"I thought I was meant to lead," John muttered, feeling very much like the weak link of the group all of a sudden.
"Not yet," Freyr said as Thor and Aegir stopped to cover them as they advanced.
"What does that mean?" he asked. The bluntness of Freyr's comment stung him. 'Not yet.' It was like he was still a kid. He pushed the thought down and concentrated on what they were doing.
They moved across the field in two groups: Thor and Aegir advanced thirty to fifty metres at a time, spread out, then waited, watching, as John, Cameron, Sarah and Freyr caught up to them. They in turn then knelt down with their weapons ready as the two giants moved again. They didn't need to cover the Vanguards, but it gave them a good all-round defence and John figured it was a good habit to get into now; advancing tactically towards a target.
"Wait!" he said, a bad feeling taking hold. Immediately the others paused.
"What's wrong?" Cameron asked.
"This seems too easy," John said. "If this is it, why aren't we being shot at right now? If I was Skynet I'd have machines guarding this place." It didn't add up. Cameron took a step towards him, her foot landing in a pile of steaming brown pig shit. She didn't seem concerned but John stared at her foot for several seconds before he looked down at the ground beneath him. There was another pile of droppings only a foot or so away from him; one of a hundred presents left by the resident pigs. "What if they're not the only presents?" he muttered to himself before turning to Thor. "I think the field's mined," he said.
Sarah froze at the suggestion. She couldn't believe she hadn't thought of it herself. "It can't be," she said as a pig crossed a few metres from her position, clearly used to humans. She watched another one give Cameron a wide berth, however. "If it was mined then the pigs would set them off and the field would be full of crispy bacon."
"They could be set to only respond to a specific weight," Cameron suggested. The pigs were small, young, and would not set them off if they'd been calibrated for the weight of a human.
"So what do we do?" John asked. He held his weapon out and glanced all around, searching for any hint of a sniper. With them all frozen like statues they were sitting ducks for any defenders out there. The branches of a tree in the next field swayed in the wind and he squinted at it, trying to see if he could make out any shapes in amongst the leaves; the glint of a metal barrel or the glare off a scope, a uniform or jacket or a boot. Why weren't they attacking already?
Maybe they're waiting for one of us to trigger a mine; then they'll open up with everything they have. For a moment he wondered if the pigs might even be packed with explosives. He'd heard of terrorists doing it with horses and camels in the Middle East; he wouldn't put it past Kaliba to cut open some pigs, pack them with Semtex and remote-detonate if they got close to an intruder.
"Stay still," Thor said. Any mines were likely to be anti-personnel and were no threat to him, so he marched towards John. Aegir did the same, approaching Sarah.
Thor reached John before turning his back to him, standing in front of his once and future commander. "Step exactly where I do," he instructed, marching forward. John followed him, cautiously making sure he planted his boots in Thor's footsteps. He saw his mom doing the same thing behind Aegir, while Freyr and Cameron stepped out to the side, weapons held out ready to give covering fire.
Very quickly, they reached the shed without incident. It was a small, single-storey structure perhaps thirty feet wide and eight feet high, with wooden walls and a corrugated iron roof. There was only a single window, too dirty to see anything through. The walls appeared to be solid, as was the door, which had a thick padlock keeping it sealed shut.
"We should move back," Sarah said to John as Thor reached for the padlock. John nodded and took several steps backward. Cameron kept herself between the shed and John, anticipating, like her charge and his mother, that the entrance could be booby-trapped.
John got down on the ground and kept low, watching as Thor gripped the padlock in one hand. He kept his head down and braced himself for an explosion. As Thor yanked the lock from the door, wood snapped and splintered, steel bent, but nothing more. No booby traps. The Vanguard pulled the door open and stepped inside, his head almost touching the ceiling. Inside the shed he saw shelves lined with large sealed bags. More shelves held a variety of farming tools. He stomped on the floor in case there was a trap door or hidden space underneath, but his footfalls impacted solid ground.
He tore open one of the bags, spilling oats onto the ground. "Clear," he announced to the others. "There's nothing in here."
"Nothing?" John asked.
"Bags of animal feed," Thor replied. It seemed strange to him; in the future, food was a valuable, scarce commodity. Humans who fought or in some other way contributed to the war effort were guaranteed rations, but he knew that in the dark days of the war, before the bulk of the remaining humans flocked under Connor's leadership, that people had often fought and killed each other over food. Different factions would have literally gone to war with each other over the contents of this shed, and eaten their own dead for protein, but in this time it was being used to feed pigs.
"Check the well," John said. He ran to the stone structure, ignoring the dwindling possibility of landmines, and peered inside.
"There's nothing down there," Cameron said as she joined him and looked down. "Just water."
"That's impossible." John shook his head. "It's got to be here somewhere." He pulled the cell phone from his pocket and dialled John Henry's number. It took several seconds before it picked up a signal and connected, but the AI answered on the first ring. "We're here," John said. "There's nothing."
"The signal is a hundred metres west of your position."
John shone his flashlight to his left and saw nothing; just a couple of pigs. "Is it underground?" he wondered aloud. He marched across the field as John Henry guided him on exactly where to walk. "You're on top of it now," John Henry told him. John stopped as he saw the source of the signal John Henry was reading: a large pile of pig droppings on the grass. He could make out a square outline in the pile. "Just our luck," he muttered, feeling very deflated all of a sudden.
"What do you see?"
"Pig shit!" John snapped.
The line went quiet for a moment and he could hear shuffling sounds. The next voice on the phone wasn't John Henry.
"You're sure there's nothing there?" Weaver asked.
"Yeah. Unless Skynet's building terminator-pigs, we've been had."
"They found the tracker," Cameron concluded.
"Which means we've got nothing," Sarah said.
"The shipment's in Ukraine somewhere."
"Oh, great!" John retorted. "This place is the size of Texas; can't you narrow it down some?"
"It will take time. Drive back to Kiev and find a hotel in the meantime."
John hung up and turned to the others. "Weaver wants us to head back to Kiev and wait to see what she comes up with."
"Back to square one," Sarah sighed, beyond frustrated. This was worse than the blood-written names on the wall in their old basement. It was just like the first few days after they'd arrived in 2007; after they'd settled themselves in but had no idea where to search for Skynet, or how.
As if fate was really looking to kick them while they were down, the heavens opened at that moment. It started with a few droplets spitting down but rapidly turned into a monsoon, soaking their clothes to their skins. Great! Sarah thought as the rain flowed down her forehead and into her eyes, stinging them. What the hell else can go wrong today?
Kiev, Ukraine
Wednesday 2200 Local Time [1200 PST]
They'd packed the guns away into the lockable box in the rear and piled back into the Sprinter before leaving the pig farm. The trip back had mostly been in silence. Thor hadn't stuck to the speed limit and John hadn't tried to urge him to, either. He knew that he should but he after the debacle at the pig farm he just couldn't bring himself to care.
John had never been anywhere outside of North or South America, and he'd had very little idea of what Eastern Europe would actually look like. He knew Ukraine was a former Soviet republic, he'd had several images in mind of how the place would look, and he'd seen a lot of that on the way in: tall, brutalist, drab grey concrete buildings and apartment blocks, but in the centre of the city it could have been anywhere in the US. This, he thought, was clearly where the money was, just like any other capital city in the world.
Sarah looked out the windows and saw a hotel to their right. It was large; seven or eight storeys tall, with prominent classical Eastern European architecture, every detail brightly lit by numerous spotlights. To Sarah it wouldn't have looked out of place in Las Vegas. "We've still got Weaver's credit card, right?" she asked.
"Yes," Cameron said.
"Pull in here," Sarah said to Thor. The giant followed her instruction and parked in front of the hotel. He'd barely turned the engine off and opened the door to step outside before a man in a suit approached him.
"Hello," he said in accented but clear English. "Are you staying here, sir?" Thor looked down at the man; if the human seemed surprised by his size, he wasn't showing it.
"Thinking about it," Sarah said, the last to exit the van.
"May I take your keys, sir?" he asked Thor.
"Why?" The Vanguard eyed him suspiciously.
"He's a valet," John explained as he slung his bags over his shoulder. "Just give him the keys." Thor did so, and the man handed him a ticket and got into the driver's seat. He waited as they opened the rear doors of the Sprinter and the Vanguards took the heavy holdalls with the weapons inside. John, Cameron and Sarah took their bags with clothes in, leaving the van empty. Once it was, the man started it up and pulled away.
"What was that?" Freyr asked. "What's a valet?"
"They take your car and park it for you," Cameron explained.
"How do you know that?" Sarah asked, surprised.
"I don't sleep."
Sarah led the way to the main entrance, where a doorman held the door open for them to pass through. Inside, the lobby was large and spacious, with a marble floor.
"This place looks expensive," John said to Cameron as they walked to the front desk. As soon as they reached it, a young blonde woman greeted them with a smile. According to the badge on her uniform, her name was Irina.
"Welcome to the Premier Palace Hotel," she said in English. "Are you looking to make a reservation?"
John interrupted Sarah before she could say anything. "How did you know we're not locals?" he asked.
"You get a feel for these things, after a while," she said, her smile not wavering.
"Yes, we'd like a room," Sarah said, not caring about how she knew they were American. As long as she didn't know who they were or what they were doing – something she thought of as unlikely but not impossible – that was all that mattered. She turned to Cameron and held out her hand. "Card?"
Cameron fished it out of her pocket – she didn't bother with purses – and handed it to the elder Connor.
"Here is the price list." Irina handed them a sheet with the list of rooms and the prices in the local currency Hryvni, as well as US Dollars, Euros, Pounds, Yen and Roubles. Sarah glanced down the list, as did John and Cameron, while the three Vanguards hung back and observed. "The classic rooms are two hundred and fifty dollars a night."
"The hell with that," Sarah scoffed, looking down to the bottom of the list. She looked back up to Irina. "Have you got any of these presidential suites available?"
"They're forty-five hundred dollars a night," John said.
"So?" Sarah looked at him. "We're not paying," she said, waving Weaver's credit card for emphasis.
Irina checked on her computer. "We do have presidential suites available," she said. "How long would you like to stay?"
"Let's say a week," Sarah replied. Any longer than that and their already cold trail would have turned to ice. She handed the card over to Irina, who typed it into the computer and started to book it.
"Weaver's gonna be pissed," John said quietly, failing to suppress a smile. He tried to imagine her face when she got the bill for it. Probably the same as always, he thought. She wasn't exactly expressive, even for a cyborg.
After a couple of minutes of typing, Irina handed the card back to Sarah and then took out six key-cards. "Your suite is number Seven-Oh-Four; on the seventh floor." She slapped a bell on the desk and a young man only a couple of years older than John appeared from an office behind the desk, saw the group and reached for Cameron's bag.
"Get back!" Aegir growled at him, stepping threateningly towards the kid who stared up at the Vanguard, eyes wide in terror as he backed away.
"Stop it," John hissed at Aegir. "He's a porter; it's his job to take our bags up for us." It was just like the valet incident a moment ago, except Aegir didn't seem to have Thor's restraint. Aegir just glared at the young man for a moment before turning away.
"We'll manage ourselves, thank you," Sarah said apologetically, flashing an embarrassed smile at the porter and then at Irina.
Unlike the porter, who to John looked like he might have actually soiled himself with fright, Irina appeared completely unfazed and carried on as if nothing had happened. "There are elevators just through there." She pointed to a corridor on their right. "I hope you enjoy your stay."
They left the hotel reception and went through the corridor to the elevator. Once inside, Cameron pressed the button to take them to the seventh floor. John noticed a sign inside the car; first in what he assumed was Ukrainian, and then in English: 'Maximum occupancy is 1000KG or 12 persons.'
"How much do you guys weigh again?" John asked, his gaze turning from the sign to the three Vanguards. "Should we take the stairs?"
"Our combined weight is approximately six hundred kilograms," Freyr said. "The elevator will hold us."
"Yeah… I was kidding," John said. Tough crowd. As the elevator ascended he realised that he and Cameron were holding hands. Weird, he thought; he hadn't even noticed it before, or whether he'd grabbed her hand or she'd taken his. He glanced out the corner of his eye at his mother to see if she was aware, but if she was she wasn't making it obvious. John and Cameron shared a look and both half-smiled, making no move to disconnect their hands, content to leave it as it was.
Once they reached the seventh floor they exited the elevator and walked through the corridor to Suite 704.
"Before we go in," Sarah said to the others quietly, "don't talk about machines, Kaliba, or the mission until we've swept the place for bugs."
Cameron pulled out her pistol and key-card, swiped the latter through the electronic lock and pushed the door open. She went inside first, leaving the light off as she entered with her pistol drawn down, ready to fire on any intruders waiting for them. She saw no movement or heat signatures, just a large, open-plan room with three sofas in a horseshoe around a mahogany coffee table, above which hung a crystal chandelier. The curtains were drawn shut, preventing anyone outside from seeing in, so she turned on the light switch.
"Wow," John said as he went in behind Cameron. He looked around the suite's living room. In the middle, feet away from the sofas was an ornate-looking fireplace, with a large mirror hanging on the wall above it; and beside, two chairs beside for anyone who wanted to just sit by the fire, he presumed. To the right of that was one of the biggest flat-screen TVs John had ever seen.
Aegir was the last one to enter and he closed the door behind him. He and the other Vanguards did not seem particularly interested in their surroundings or the décor. Instead they did what John unconsciously did every time he entered a new place: assessed the exits and entry points.
John took the opportunity to look around the suite, accompanied by Cameron. They passed an office with a small library inside; a cloakroom-cum-kitchenette; a dining room with a large, dark-wood table big enough to fit ten people around, and two large bedrooms. He stepped through the office/library and through a door into one of the bedrooms. Dominating the room was a massive double bed that was wider than he was tall. He dropped his bags onto the bed, wordlessly claiming the room as his own. He noticed Cameron place her bag next to his, and he knew what that implied.
The bedroom also had an en suite bathroom, and when John went in to take a look he saw that it was bigger than the bedrooms in either house they'd lived in since the time jump, or any he'd had before that. Back into the bedroom, he went to the French windows that ran floor to ceiling ten feet from the left-hand side of the bed. The drapes were drawn closed, concealing the outside world. He turned the light off so that nobody outside would be able to see him, drew the drapes open, then opened the French windows, which he saw extended out onto a large balcony.
"What's that?" Cameron asked, as she stepped out onto the balcony with him and saw what looked like a large hexagonal bathtub with a blue cover over it. She pulled the edge of it up and saw that it was filled with hot water.
"Hot tub," John said, a smile curling the corners of his mouth. Unlike the one in Déjalo, he doubted very much that he'd have to fix this one himself. "You've never seen one before?" he asked.
"No," Cameron said. "How does it work?"
"You just sit in the water and push the button that blows bubbles into the water. You'll love it."
"We'll need to buy bathing suits."
For a fraction of a second, John imagined Cameron in a skimpy bikini and again he couldn't help the smile that split his face as the possibilities played through his mind. After spending his whole life living off the grid, squatting and scraping by, he would have never imagined, not ever, that their war against Skynet could have taken them to a place like this.
Sarah entered the bedroom and despite the gloom, spotted John and Cameron's bags on the bed. She went onto the balcony and saw them staring at the hot tub.
"John's called dibs," Cameron said, sensing Sarah approaching them from behind.
Figures, Sarah thought. "As long as you let me use the hot tub sometime," she said to John.
"Sure," he replied, turning around to face his mother, who looked stern. "What's up?"
Sarah didn't say anything in reply. Instead she took out her phone and rapidly tapped the keys. Seconds later, both John's and Cameron's phones vibrated in their pockets and they simultaneously pulled them from their pockets to check. John unlocked his cell and saw he had a single text message from Sarah: 'Sweep the room for bugs.'
Both John and Cameron nodded, and split up to start inspecting the room. Cameron unscrewed a light bulb from one of the lamps and examined it for any signs of tampering. There was nothing. She put it back into place and checked the others. John left the bedroom and went into the middle of the suite. Thor, Freyr and Aegir were all looking around the room, searching for any trace of bugs. Aegir was on his knees on the floor, unscrewing one of the electrical sockets with a knife. It seemed strange to John; from what he'd seen of the Vanguards so far – especially Aegir – they were all about brute force and firepower. He hadn't expected them to operate as delicately as they were now, taking extra care not to damage anything or leave any marks.
John studied the socket as Aegir finished removing the screws and took the white plastic casing away to reveal the coloured wires underneath. John noted two circular holes in the round plastic base of the socket itself. "We're going to need adaptors for our phone chargers," he said.
"Make a list," said Thor as he reached up and inspected the chandelier above the sofas and coffee table.
John went back into the bedroom and copied what Aegir had done, checking the wall sockets for any listening devices planted inside. He found none.
Almost an hour later they were assembled in the living room. On the coffee table, their new arsenal of weaponry was laid out in front of them. John and Cameron sat together on one of the sofas, Sarah on another, and the three Vanguards stood behind the third – it wasn't large enough to fit all three of them on and John wasn't sure if it would take their combined weight, anyway.
"We have good news and bad news," Sarah announced. "Good news first: we haven't found any bugs, so we should be safe to talk shop," she said. "We haven't got any screwdrivers so we can't take apart the TV or the phone to check, but all the seals on them are still there so we'll have to assume for now that there aren't any."
"We shouldn't use the hotel phones, just in case," John added.
"What's the bad news?" Freyr asked.
Sarah swept her hand over the weapons on the table: three AK-103s, a limited supply of grenades for their underslung launchers and only one hundred-twenty rounds for each rifle; three pistols and a single rocket launcher. In addition there were only four blocks of Semtex, each with its own detonator. "These weapons are a joke," she said. "I was hoping Weaver would get us more stuff than this. I can't see us taking out a factory full of machines with this."
"That's what we're here for," Aegir commented. He agreed with Sarah: the weapons were unsuitable for the task at hand but they weren't needed: he'd kill a T-888 with his bare hands faster than Cameron, Connor and his mother could, even with all these guns at their disposal. The rocket launcher would be effective but it had no spare missiles.
"Nevertheless," Sarah said, "I'll talk to Weaver, get her to send this guy out again with some more stuff."
John changed the subject. "I brought my laptop with me and I'll start doing some research, see if we can find anything happening in Ukraine that might give some hints." He turned to Thor. "Do you know anything about where Skynet came from?" he asked. "Anything at all, or anything about Kaliba; its operations, facilities?"
"No one ever found out where it began," Thor said. "Not even James Ellison."
"You said he was a double agent, posing as Skynet's top human operative, right?" John asked. Thor nodded, and John found a new respect for the former FBI agent. He couldn't imagine spending half his life doing that; pretending, risking his life every time he tried to pass on vital information to the Alliance, and being probably the most hated man alive in the process. He resolved that, were history to repeat itself, he wouldn't put Ellison or anyone else through that again.
"Kaliba kept Skynet and its facilities well hidden," Freyr added.
"We found traces before," Sarah said. "We'll find them again. It's been a long day, and we – John and me – should get some rest. We'll get started in the morning." Even though she'd slept on the plane she still felt an immense sense of fatigue starting to take hold. The last seventy-two hours; being broken out of prison, falling off the motorcycle – which still hurt like hell – and the rush to catch up with John and Cameron before the T-1001, had taken its toll on her. From what had happened to John, she knew that he was probably in a similar state and would need to relax.
"If anyone wants anything, feel free to raid the minibar or order room service," she said. "Just charge it to the room." She turned to John. "Relax, rest," she ordered him sternly. "You," she said, pointing to Cameron, "are to make sure he does." She knew John: if she or Cameron let him, he'd be up the entire night on his computer, looking for Kaliba.
"I will," Cameron said.
"What are you guys going to do?" John asked Thor.
"Security," Thor answered. "Freyr will remain here. Aegir: patrol the block around the hotel. I'll observe from the roof. If Kaliba is out there or if they approach, we'll see them coming."
Premier Palace Hotel, Kiev
Wednesday 2300 Local Time [1300 PST]
Cameron sat on one side of the queen-sized bed, perusing through brochures detailing the sights to see in Kiev. There were World War Two and Cold War walking tours of the city, with English-speaking guides to relate the history of the country. Tours operated in Chernobyl, though she doubted given Sarah's radiation scare in Serrano Point that she'd want to take that tour or even hear about it. There were also a number of museums, and an air show that was due to commence in three days' time and run until Sunday. Next to her, John sat and tapped away at the keyboard of his laptop.
"What are you looking at?" she asked him, leaning over to peer at the screen. John tried to tilt the laptop away, out of her sight, but he was too slow and she grabbed it, holding it in place. Cameron saw an article about a Russian unmanned drone aircraft that was due to appear in the coming air show. "Your mother said you were to rest," she said.
"How can I when somewhere out there, Kaliba's doing God knows what?" They knew Kaliba was somewhere in Ukraine; for all they knew, the conglomerate could have a presence in the very hotel they were staying in, or a building down the street, or anywhere in the country – though it was entirely possible Ukraine wasn't even the shipment's final destination.
"They'll still be doing it tomorrow," Cameron said to him. "You need to rest."
"I think I'm over the whole hypothermia thing," John replied. "Did I tell you that already? Could've sworn I did."
Cameron nodded. "I know. But you push yourself too hard." He was the same in the future. She recalled regularly standing sentinel in his quarters, watching over his shoulder as he worked on various strategies and made plans, not sleeping for days on end. According to him, that's when he did his best work. She knew that the John sitting next to her now would be the same, except he'd probably use the excuses that Judgment Day was coming, and there was Red Bull in the minibar in the lounge that could keep him going.
"I need to," he said. "It's important."
"It's important to not exhaust yourself. A tired Connor is no good to anyone. Especially me." She winked as she moved closer and wrapped her arms around his chest, pinning his arms to his side and forcing him to turn towards her until she pressed her lips to his.
John closed his eyes and kissed her back, all thoughts of the article on his laptop evaporating instantaneously. She knows how to press my buttons. "I guess I could take a break for a minute," he said, breaking the kiss for just a moment before their mouths reconnected and she opened her mouth, deepening the kiss, feeling John groan pleasurably against her mouth.
Cameron snatched the computer from his lap and quickly broke off the kiss, pulling away from the bed and standing up before he could reach for it, snapping the laptop shut.
"Hey!" he protested, unsure whether it was because she'd used the kiss as a ruse or just because she'd broken it off. A bit of both, he thought. He was also a little irritated that he hadn't seen it coming. Cameron strode towards the bedroom door. "Where are you going?" he asked.
"I'll be back," she said. She slipped through the door and went into the lounge, where Freyr sat on one of the couches, watching the TV. There was a movie she didn't recognise on, in Ukrainian but with English subtitles, and the volume was turned down low.
"Keep this away from John until I tell you otherwise," she instructed him, handing the laptop to the larger cyborg. Freyr nodded his compliance as she knelt down at the minibar and pulled the door open, noting that the seal had been broken.
"Sarah took several items," Freyr explained. "She stated her intention was to leave it empty before we check out. She seems determined to cost Catherine Weaver as much money as possible. I don't know why; ZeiraCorp's budget would be better spent elsewhere."
"Spite," Cameron explained, remembering Weaver's discussion with John over the items they'd lost in Crater Lake. John had taken her attitude towards their lives badly, and Sarah disliked her on principle because she was a machine – especially because she was a liquid metal design. "It's illogical but it makes Sarah happier, which makes her easier to work with."
Cameron examined the contents inside the minibar. There were numerous snack items, most of which were chocolates, both local brands and some she recognised from the US, as well as a variety of canned and miniature bottles of drinks, both soft and alcoholic.
She searched for the latter and found a variety. She picked out two small bottles of imported whisky and two chocolate bars – the latter were one each for her and John. She then closed up the minibar and took her small load back into John's and her room.
She sat back on the bed and kissed John once more, making up for her momentary deceit. "I didn't mean to trick you," she said.
"Its fine," John shrugged. "You're just looking out for me, I know. You could have just told me to stop and get some rest though."
"I did. You didn't listen."
"I guess I can be just as stubborn as Mom sometimes," John confessed.
Cameron raised a queried eyebrow. "Sometimes?"
"Okay: all the time." When he thought about it, he knew she was right. If it wasn't for his mom's intervention and then the car bomb that caused Cameron's glitch, he would have spent his entire birthday scouring through Sarkissian's hard drive. He wondered for a moment, if he were normal and not some future messiah, whether he'd be the same or not: spending all his time studying at school, college, and then working longer and longer days at whatever job he ended up with.
"I brought these," she said, handing John a bar of chocolate and the two miniature whiskies.
"What is it?" John asked, looking at the label.
"Talisker: voted best single malt whisky in the world, 2007," Cameron answered, reading the label on the side of the bottle. "Aged eighteen years: it's older than you."
"Not sure if I should really be drinking," John said uncertainly. Champagne on the plane had been one thing, more about lapping up the luxury while it lasted, but he wasn't sure about drinking hard liquor. "And what happened to that whole healthy eating thing?"
"It'll help you sleep," Cameron said. It was only a small amount; each bottle no more than a mouthful, not enough for her to worry about its long-term effects on John's health. She decided to add some more ammunition to her case. "I looked at the price list inside the minibar: it's imported from Scotland; eighteen dollars per bottle."
"For this little thing?" John looked at the tiny amount he held in his hand. "That'll piss Weaver off." John smirked as he unscrewed the cap, lifted the bottle to his lips and knocked it back. It was strong and tasted smoky in his mouth before he swallowed it, warming his throat and stomach.
"Cheers," he said, clinking his second bottle against Cameron's chocolate bar before he downed that one too. He tore open his own chocolate and munched it down, much preferring the taste of that to the Talisker.
Cameron kissed John once more before he undressed and slipped under the duvet. "I'm going to talk to Freyr," she said. "I'll be back."
John frowned at her, wondering where she'd picked that phrase up from; she'd used it a lot recently.
Downtown Los Angeles, California
Wednesday 1305 PST
The roads were quiet compared to the usual traffic standards of Downtown Los Angeles. There were still plenty of cars on the road but they were unusually free-flowing. The traffic lights worked continuously, controlled by an automated system designed to manage the flow of traffic and prevent accidents. Typically in a city the size of LA, built on a grid system, travel through the city involved a lot of stop-start at intersections as north-south gave way to east-west and vice versa.
Except for one vehicle. A medium-duty truck rolled through the streets, accelerating past sixty miles per hour, completely unhindered by the traffic lights, which all conveniently switched to green as it approached. It continued south and tore through the streets, taking turns at speeds that should have seen the truck roll over but the driver maintained incredible control of the vehicle despite the weight of his unstable, volatile cargo.
The T-888 spotted his target: ZeiraCorp appeared approximately eight hundred metres ahead on the left. He pressed down harder on the gas until the pedal hit the floor. He crossed another intersection, not even slowing down as the lights flicked from red to green to allow him to pass. Six hundred metres. Four hundred metres…
The attack had been planned to commence when most of ZeiraCorp's employees would be in the building, eliminating as many as possible while causing maximum damage.
When the truck was two-hundred metres from ZeiraCorp the driver veered left, crossing onto the wrong side of the road – which was clear thanks to the traffic lights stopping all vehicles coming in the opposite direction. The entrance to the target building was raised up above ground level by a series of steps. The truck sped up and ran onto the sidewalk, up the steps and crashed into the front door.
Glass and metal exploded outwards in all directions as the truck smashed into the foyer, shattering the reception desk before ploughing into a large square pillar. On impact the cargo detonated, erupting in a giant conflagration of flame and a shockwave that blew walls and doors apart, and snapped pillars and structural supports like twigs. Everything on the first twelve levels was vaporised by the intense heat of the bomb. The remaining six storeys, with nothing below to support them, collapsed under their own weight, adding an avalanche of smoke, dust and debris that catapulted outwards, hammering the surrounding buildings hard and smashing every window in the surrounding area.
Car alarms screeched and wailed amid the raining debris. Smoke continued to rise and orange glows could be seen among the shattered pile of rubble that was once ZeiraCorp as it continued to burn.
Premier Palace Hotel, Kiev, Ukraine
2310 Local Time [1310 PST]
Cameron left John asleep in the bedroom and returned to the lounge, where Freyr was still sat on the couch, still switching from channel to channel on the TV. "This is what humans do for entertainment?" he asked her, gesturing at the screen.
"Most of them," she replied. It didn't make sense to her, either, and it probably explained why so many of them died in the early years of the war; they'd spent so much time indoors, being spoon-fed everything, that very few of them knew how to fend for themselves when the supermarkets were empty and the power went out.
"Strange," Freyr said. "How is Connor?"
"John's pushing himself too hard," Cameron answered. "He's not like us."
"It's in Connor's nature. The human soldiers used to say that cyborgs slept more than he did."
Cameron took a seat next to the Vanguard. "What was he like in your future?" she asked, curious.
"I'd only met him twice: the assault on Cheyenne Mountain and the day Project Vanguard was initiated. He was different to the other soldiers; he didn't share their jokes or engage in very much conversation, except for operational discussions."
"He didn't have any friends in my future, either," Cameron said.
"He had you in my future. Some humans were concerned that he spent too much time with our kind and not enough with his own. Most knew that it was necessary; without him there would have been no alliance. Or without you."
Cameron had heard that from Thor before, in the van on the way back from Oregon. She had no reason to doubt their version of the future but she found it difficult to believe that she was such an integral part of it. "Why?" she asked him. "What was I in your future?" She knew she was still protecting John all that time, and they had both survived the end of the war, from Thor's recounting of it.
"You held the rank of Commander; second-in-command of the allied cyborg forces after John Henry, liaison between our forces and the humans, and General Connor's bodyguard and confidante."
"Is that it?" Cameron asked, sensing that Freyr was still holding something back. The Vanguards didn't have facial expressions, just the same permanent neutral expression, making Freyr even harder to read than she knew herself to be. She found it frustrating and noted that John probably felt the same way with her at times.
Freyr said nothing. They'd all agreed, silently, back at Serrano Point, not to tell Connor and Cameron about their future. They knew that their fledgling relationship would be important to the Alliance in years to come. Too important to risk.
"You said I outrank you," Cameron said. "I could order you to tell me."
Freyr remained silent in hesitation, uncertain of how to respond to that. He could simply argue that he didn't technically have to take orders from her, that she wasn't yet a Commander and that he was currently only answerable to Thor. He could do that, but he didn't.
He didn't, because although the Cameron sat next to him was not Second-in-Command of the cyborg army, not yet 'Commander Cameron Connor,' he was still uncomfortable with the concept of disobeying her. Regardless of her current lack of rank or position, she was still who she was: the genesis of the free machines. His CPU was based on her chip, as was every other cyborg built by John Henry. He, Thor and Aegir, as well as thousands of others in the future, shared her code, her data. And possibly even more importantly, she was the first cyborg in history to reject her programming and make her own choice, choosing Connor over her orders. She was the mother of all free cyborgs, a legend among both his kind and the humans, and he didn't want to disobey her.
"That would be a bad idea," he said finally.
"Why?" Cameron stared at him, waiting for answers.
"It could influence events," Freyr replied. Sarah was correct: Connor and Cameron had to make their own decisions. They seemed to already be close but telling them could risk adversely affecting events; knowing what he knew could place pressure on them that might damage their relationship, and the Alliance, in its infancy.
"Okay," Cameron said, taking Freyr by surprise. She wasn't satisfied with his answer but she knew the importance of keeping secrets sometimes. She'd kept several from John and Sarah, which she knew irritated them, even causing the eldest Connor to doubt her trustworthiness. Now she understood how they must have felt when she withheld information from them, even if it was for their own benefit. If Freyr believed it was necessary to keep secrets then she wouldn't force them from him.
She looked back over her shoulder towards John's room. She already knew from Thor that she was still by John's side in his time, still protecting him. Freyr had revealed more: 'Connor's protector and confidante'… and something else he wasn't saying: she was determined to find out what it was.
A familiar image appeared on the TV in front of them and Cameron watched, becoming increasingly concerned by the second as the footage played. "Pause it," she told Freyr. Sarah would want to know, so she marched towards the elder Connor's room and knocked on the door before opening it and turning on the light – for Sarah's benefit, not hers.
In a split second Sarah shot up in bed, grabbed a Makarov pistol from the nightstand next to her and had it pointed at Cameron. She lowered it slightly when she realised who it was. "Don't do that," she snapped at the cyborg, for a moment wondering if this was what John felt when she woke him up like that. She flicked the safety on and put the gun back on the nightstand. "What do you want?" she asked.
"You need to see this," Cameron said. "Now."
Sarah still didn't fully trust Cameron. She doubted she ever would, but the machine knew her stuff and if she thought something was important then it warranted attention. Sarah got out of bed and padded barefoot out of her room, following Cameron into the lounge, where Freyr still sat with the remote in his hand. "What's going on?" she asked.
"Watch," Freyr said as he pressed play to resume the programme.
The footage on screen was that of Downtown LA, filmed from above. Sarah assumed it was taken from on board a helicopter. Centred in the screen was a site of absolute devastation; a building had been completely annihilated. What was left of the upper floors rested in pieces atop a giant pile of rubble and debris. Shattered pieces of concrete, shards of glass and bent steel struts stuck out in thousands of places. Cars parked outside had been flipped onto their backs. While the bulk of the devastation was confined to just the one building, those across the street hadn't escaped unscathed. The camera panned to an office block opposite, the side of the tower adjacent to the destroyed tower was scorched black in places and every single window had been shattered. The scene reminded Sarah of a few days after they'd arrived in 2007, when Carlos and his gang had told her about 9/11.
"That's ZeiraCorp," Cameron said to her, aware that Sarah hadn't actually seen the place before.
"Was ZeiraCorp," Freyr corrected her. He'd also communicated what he was seeing with Thor and Aegir outside.
"I'd better call Weaver," Sarah said, abruptly turning around and heading back to her room.
Cameron remained for a moment, watching the news footage, unsure of what the consequences would be. Neither Catherine Weaver nor John Henry were at ZeiraCorp but that seemed to be her main source of income. Since meeting with her they'd gone from hiding in the woods to having the beginnings of a proper human/cyborg coalition and a very real chance to find and stop Skynet. She didn't know what other assets Weaver possessed or whether the loss of ZeiraCorp would be an inconvenience or a crippling blow.
"I need to see John; you should use his laptop to continue his search for Kaliba," she said to Freyr then turned away and walked quickly back to John's room. She didn't know why it was so urgent; her proximity didn't make a difference to the events of the last five minutes but she just needed to be with him right now.
He was under the covers, laying on his side, and his pants and shirt were thrown onto the ground in a haphazard pile with his shoes and socks. She folded them neatly and placed them onto a chair in the corner of the room, before stripping down to her underwear and placing her own clothes next to his. She slipped under the covers and lay beside him. John stirred for a moment and she turned around on her side, spooning against him as she wrapped her arm around his side, placing the palm of her hand on his stomach and checking his vital signs. He wasn't quite asleep but he was on his way.
She paused as John moved, stirring further. "Hey," he slurred, only semi-conscious. He grabbed her hand in his and held onto it, moving backwards slightly until his back was pressed up against her chest and stomach. He sighed contentedly and Cameron noticed his pulse slowed quickly by several beats per minute, exactly as it had done in the cabin at Crater Lake.
She considered whether or not to tell him. She knew him: he'd want to know, want her to tell him what she'd just seen, but then he'd get up and would watch the news and/or scour the internet for everything he could find, then want to talk to Weaver and John Henry. He was already stressed enough over the loss of Kaliba's shipment. She didn't want to exacerbate things. She'd kept secrets from him for months; one more until the morning wouldn't hurt.
"It's under control," Weaver said to Sarah down the phone. "I took precautions a few days ago."
"Your company's gone and hundreds of people are dead: how's that 'under control?'" Sarah asked dubiously.
"Let me worry about that," Weaver continued. "Losing the tower is an inconvenience. It might even buy us some time if Kaliba thinks they've hurt us. It's not a major loss but it has caused some extra work for me; so is there anything else I can help you with?"
Sarah thought about it, and there was something. "I need to see a doctor," she said. "Cancer screening." She'd lied to John before; she felt like crap but she was keeping it together for his sake. "It's too risky to see anyone back home so I need an appointment here."
"Give me a few hours and I'll see what I can do," Weaver replied. Sarah had to give the machine her due: she didn't make a fuss or waste any time asking inane questions or even pretending to be concerned. She just got on with it. One of the very few things she liked about machines.
Serrano Point, California
Wednesday 1320 PST
Weaver cancelled the call, recreated the pocket in her hip and placed the phone inside, then turned to John Henry. "I need you to search for English-speaking private medical clinics and book a cancer-screening for Sarah under her passport name."
"Is Sarah sick?" John Henry asked, concern apparent in his voice; a clear product of James Ellison's empathy teaching.
"That's what we're going to find out," she said. "And when they get the results, find out what they are and tell me immediately."
"Sarah has cancer?" Ellison asked her. She'd never told him that, though it did explain why she'd wanted Cameron to take John and get away, leaving her behind.
"Possibly," Weaver said.
"And if she does?" Ellison asked. "They don't have insurance; are you going to have her treated?"
"Of course," Weaver said.
"Will there be any strings attached?" he asked her, suspicious. He'd started to see how she operated now, and didn't believe she would just cure Sarah's cancer and send her on her way. It was the same as when she was in prison: Weaver could have dangled that carrot in front of John for years on the promise of freeing her. And of course, now, John had made his agreement with Thor: they help him find Skynet, and he'd help them find and kill T-Zero. They'd made it abundantly clear that they were dealing with John, Cameron and John Henry, rather than Weaver. John was the key to the Vanguards, and if she used his mother's potential cancer to control John then she'd also control them, too.
"Do it," Weaver said to John Henry. "You'll have to excuse me for a few minutes," she then said to Ellison. "I have to arrange a press conference, or share prices will plummet."