Chapter Eleven

Highway 22, Rivne Oblast, Ukraine

Friday 1200 Local Time [0200 PST]

John stared out of the van's windshield as the world whizzed by past them. Traffic on the road was light and they were moving at a steady pace – he guessed. The speedometer read one hundred-thirty kilometres per hour, which he figured was around eighty or so in real terms. He was bored; they'd been driving for over four hours and for a good chunk of that they'd had the radio on. Regrettably.

John reached for the radio and turned it off. "That's enough Europop for a while," he said. Or forever. Cameron turned her head and stared at him for a long moment before glancing back at the road. "What? Don't tell me you like that?" It was worse than the Beyoncé incident when they'd driven to Mexico.

"I haven't heard it before," Cameron said. "I like it."

"You have no sense of taste," John said, smiling to let her know he was kidding.

"Explains why I'm dating you," Cameron shot back with an identical grin.

"Touché." John couldn't help but chuckle at that."It's crap," he said in mock exasperation, watching her face for a reaction. "Just blaring loud noise from a synthesiser. Hurts my ears just listening to it."

"Perhaps it's not meant for human ears," Cameron suggested.

"A music genre for cyborgs… we'll have to test it on the Vanguards later." Music, he figured, was something they would never have in common. We can't always agree on everything. John leaned back in his seat and glanced out the window. "Do you remember the last road trip we took?" he asked her.

She gave him a deadpan look that he thought a teacher might give to a particularly dense child. "I remember everything."

"Yeah… stupid me. Let me rephrase: this reminds me of our road trip to Mexico. We disagreed over the radio then, too." He glanced outside again. "Hey, maybe I should stick my feet out the window; feel what it's like to get away from it all."

Cameron frowned at that. "It's too cold. You wouldn't feel what it's like for long."

"I was kidding," John said, realising she still needed to work on her sense of humour. "Why did you do that, though, back in Mexico?"

"Put my foot out of the window?"

"Yeah."

"As I said then: to feel what it's like to get away from it all."

John remembered what he'd said to her on their Mexico trip in reaction to that and now felt guilty. He decided not to dwell on it, nor on how downright cryptic she was being with her answers. It was like everything about the day she'd planned was classified top secret; she was giving nothing away. "Is that what today's about?" he asked her. "Getting away from it all?"

"Maybe," she replied coyly.

He sighed, realising he would get nothing out of her and he'd have to wait until they'd arrived at wherever it was that they were going before he found anything out.

"As long as it's not a Europop concert."

John inspected their surroundings as he got out of the Sprinter, stepping into the chilly air that turned his breath to steam as he exhaled. "Where are we?" he asked Cameron. They were in a parking lot surrounded by trees. The whole area, he realised, was dotted with woods. He could see several sets of railroad tracks a few hundred feet away, one with a train standing idle on the rails.

"Klevan," she answered simply.

John looked harder, trying to see what they were there for. Cameron took him by the hand and led him to the nearest tracks. She then led him west along the line, towards a wooded area where the tracks seemed to go through.

"Probably not a good idea to walk along the tracks," John said.

"I'll hear any trains before they're a threat." She would also feel the vibration in the ground long before she heard them coming. There were many things that she classified a danger to John; trains were not presently one of them.

"What're we here for?" John wondered aloud, looking for some sign of why they'd taken such a long trip. What's the importance of this place? he asked himself. Is there one? He doubted trains would be much good after the bombs went off. "Does the line go underground?" Is that what she wants to show me? He knew how valuable subway tunnels and underground lines would be in the future. "Did something happen here in the war – World War Two, I mean?" He added the last part for her benefit. To anyone from the future, 'the war' would mean against Skynet. "Not that I don't love a good history lesson, of course."

"No," Cameron said as she continued to lead him along the line. "Nothing happened here. There's no tactical, strategic or historical importance to this site."

John frowned, confused, as the woods surrounded the line. Trees lined both sides of the track, growing upwards and forming an arch over their heads. John felt a little nervous as the light dimmed somewhat. Not at the darkness but at the fact that the trees effectively formed a tunnel, and were dense enough that he didn't think he could go through them if they were attacked – or if a train did come. The only exit was behind him now, plus wherever the tree-tunnel ended down the line. Looks nice, though, he thought. Fall had turned the leaves a mixture of reds, oranges and yellows; those that were still on the trees as well as the carpet of fallen foliage on the ground, partially concealing the track. It was colourful. After the war there'd be very little in the way of colour; everything would be grey and lifeless.

He spotted more people ahead of them; a couple a few years older than he was. They, like he and Cameron, walked down the tracks hand in hand, chatting with each other. He watched them, wondering what they were doing, when they stopped walking, turned to face each other and embraced. "So what is this place?" John asked her.

"Тunel' Kokhannya," Cameron replied in Ukrainian.

"Huh?"

"The Tunnel of Love," Cameron translated. "The leaflets in the lobby said it was romantic."

John didn't know what to say. He'd been expecting something educational, something related to the mission. The last thing he'd have imagined would be for her to go to this kind of effort for the sake of a romantic day trip. He smiled at her. "It's definitely that," he replied, squeezing her hand. "So, you wanted to just do something as a couple."

"We are a couple. We should do things together."

"While we still have the chance," John added, agreeing with her fully. "So what else did the leaflets say about this place?"

"The tunnel is three kilometres long and the tracks lead to a factory – not Skynet related. It's popular with couples throughout Ukraine and is a favourite location for marriage proposals."

John instantly stopped in his tracks. "That's not why we're here, is it?" he asked, looking at her dubiously. It was way too soon for anything like that. Cameron glanced up at him, a hurt expression on her face. "I'm sorry," John blurted out, suddenly feeling like an asshole. "I didn't mean it like that, I…"

"Fooled you." Cameron gave a slight smirk.

"You're evil," John said, sighing. "You really had me going there." He couldn't help but smile back though. She was starting to develop a sense of humour, of sorts.

"I'm a machine; we're not good or evil."

"Jury's out on that," John said. "What else did it say?" He knew damn well that whatever the leaflets said would be the tip of the iceberg for her; she would have researched the place meticulously, probably knew everything about it.

Cameron turned around to face him, backed up until she was standing on one of the tracks to give her some more height, making her level with him. He put his hands on her waist and stepped closer to her as she spoke. "If couples come and make a wish, it's supposed to come true."

"I didn't think you'd believe in super– in something like that." John stopped himself from saying 'superstition.' Cameron had clearly gone to great effort to clear the use of the van for the day and had driven him a long way, and he didn't want her to think he was putting it down. He was just surprised.

"No study's been done to prove or disprove it," Cameron said. "We should test it."

"Okay," John said, moving even closer. "Let's give it a go: make a wish." He watched her face as she paused. He wondered if she was making a wish, and what it would be if she was. Probably to keep me safe, he thought. He didn't need a wish for that when he had her. Cameron put her arms around his neck and leaned in. John followed suit and closed his eyes as their lips met. He couldn't say how long they remained like that, just standing still and kissing. Not long enough, he thought as they both pulled away. They continued walking down the track, holding hands once more and making frequent eye contact.

"What did you wish for?" he asked her.

"I can't say," Cameron said. "I heard if you tell someone your wish it won't come true; it's bad luck."

"I'm pretty sure that's just when you blow out the candles on a birthday cake and make a wish."

"I don't take chances," Cameron said seriously. "Do you believe in luck?" she asked him. It was something she couldn't quantify.

"Sure. Bad luck, anyway. If I didn't have that I'd have no luck at all." She looked at him with a frown. "Chill, it's just a line from a movie, I think. I don't remember. Just something I've heard like a million times."

"One million?" That seemed like a lot.

"Not literally." He could almost see the numbers crunching in her chip, calculating how many times per day he'd have had to hear it to actually reach a million. He thought it was strange how she could make jokes but didn't always understand when others were joking.

"You believed in luck in the future," she said.

"I did?" John's curiosity was piqued now; he always paid attention when she mentioned his future self.

"You said that no matter how prepared we were, we could always do with a little luck. That some days it made the difference."

John thought it was messed up that right now he didn't put much faith in luck, but somehow he did in the future, after a nuclear war and billions of deaths. "Did I say anything else about it?"

"Yes," Cameron said. "I wanted to ask you what you meant but we were interrupted and I never had the opportunity until just before you sent me back. When I asked, you told me to 'be the difference.'"

She pulled him towards her and kissed him again, this time holding him in place as she locked her lips with his. She wanted this. She needed this. They hadn't been truly alone since their last kiss in the restroom at Serrano Point, when John had told her that he'd made his choice. Since then everything had been about the mission. She wanted to protect him but that wasn't enough now. She wanted to be with him. Even if he was safe, she liked being with him.

They remained in place for a long while, wrapped in each other's embrace. She made no move to deepen the kiss or open her mouth, and neither did he. Both seemed to be content in that moment.

In the end it wasn't an ally or enemy that forced them to stop. John felt the ground beneath them rumbling as they kissed. He pulled back for a moment and smiled at her. "Did we just make the earth move?" he asked, chuckling.

"Train," Cameron replied simply, pulling him gently off the tracks. She took his hand once more and marched quickly up the line, spotting an alcove in the trees where they would have plenty of space to stand and let the train go by. She led him there and resumed their kiss as it went past. It felt better this time than previously. Logically she knew that was because she didn't have to worry for his safety; they weren't in danger and there was nothing and no one to interrupt them, but somehow this just felt better. She'd waited days for this and intended to enjoy every moment.

Premier Palace Hotel, Kiev, Ukraine

Friday 1345 Local Time [0345 PST]

Sarah was bored. Since meeting Kyle Reese there hadn't been much downtime in her busy life, but following her capture by the LAPD at Savannah Weaver's handover, there'd been way too much of it. First in Pelican Bay prison, then in the executive jet that brought them all to Ukraine; and now in the most luxurious hotel in that country's capital, Kiev.

After a light breakfast of coffee and omelette she'd done an hour's workout in the gym, then showered before joining Thor for his observation stint on the roof, but neither activity made her feel like she was doing something. Shift complete, the current and former leaders of the group returned to the presidential suite, Freyr taking their place up top, abandoning his latest Simpsons marathon. Aegir was busy conducting further research on John's laptop computer.

"Is something bothering you?" Thor inquired, joining her at the window. She hadn't said a word since informing him that she would be joining him on overwatch.

How perceptive, Sarah thought as she gazed down on the masses thronging the sidewalks below. "It's been hours; where are they?" she asked.

"Cameron and John?" Thor replied.

"Yes!" Sarah snapped. "Who else would I be talking about?"

"Klevan, in Rivne Province," Aegir said, without looking up from the laptop.

"You're tracking them?" Sarah said, surprised but impressed. Should've thought of it myself.

"Of course."

"What the hell's in Klevan? Really. And where the hell is it anyway?" Sarah demanded.

Aegir looked at his leader, then turned the computer around for Sarah to see. No doubt talking on their internal radios, she thought, annoyed at being excluded from another part of her team. She checked her temper; she'd given up command, leaving it to Thor. It's his team now.

Sarah crossed the room to where Aegir was sitting. She crouched over the laptop, quickly working out how to expand the view. "That's one hell of a distance," she muttered. Even without trying to convert the scale, she could see it was much farther away than the airports around Kiev, one of which they'd landed at. "It's almost in Poland; what the hell was she thinking?" She tapped away at the keyboard again, increasingly anxious about what Cameron had dragged her son halfway across the country to see. The search engine produced many results: links to articles as well as pictures and maps, but none pointed to any significant World War Two event. "No!" she exclaimed.

"What is it?" Thor asked, moving closer.

"Ha!"

"What?" Aegir chimed in.

Sarah smiled smugly at the two machines. "Well, well, well," she said enigmatically.

"Explain," Aegir insisted, his patience exhausted.

"The Tunnel of Love."

"What is that?" Thor said.

"See for yourself," Sarah said, conflicted about what she'd just seen. Her emotions were in turmoil and she didn't know whether to laugh or cry.

"How curious," Thor remarked. There were many pictures of a railroad track running through tightly-enclosing trees in all the seasons of the year, from winter through to fall. Many had human couples embracing and kissing. "Would you say this is a very human thing to do?"

"What, lie about where they've gone? That's a very machine thing. Lying."

Thor stared blankly back at her. It was clear that John Connor had lied about the expedition too, but he decided to ignore that for the moment. "I meant going somewhere with romantic connotations."

"I know what you meant!" Sarah said through gritted teeth. As suddenly as it arrived, her anger dissipated. She slumped down on the couch. "It's a done deal now, then? John and Cameron... Connor." She hated saying those two names in close conjunction, but what had once happened in the Vanguards' future was now a big step closer to reality in the present. She sighed wearily. "Did they do this in the future? Play hooky?"

"Do you mean secret assignations of a romantic nature?" Thor asked. Sarah nodded affirmatively. "No. At least, none that we are aware of."

"So this is out of character for her?" Sarah said.

"I didn't know her well and this kind of activity would be almost impossible in our future. Also, if it were secret, who else would know?" He could tell Sarah was disappointed by his reply. "They were very close," he added. Sarah looked up. "It was said that they were inseparable, and from my limited personal experience, they were always together."

Sarah got up and walked back to the window, resuming her observation of Kiev's citizenry. Normal people, she thought. Whatever that means.

"Why do you think she did this?" Thor asked.

His sudden presence behind her momentarily startled Sarah. Light on his feet for such a big guy. "I dunno. One time..." She faltered; the memory was still so distasteful. "Once, she... claimed to love him. Maybe she does. Maybe she just thinks this is what humans do? She's trying to be the perfect girlfriend. I really don't know."

"I see," Thor said. "She is a fascinating cyborg."

Sarah gawped at the giant. "Yeah, fascinating," she said sarcastically.

"You don't seem to approve of her or their relationship now, but you gave it your blessing back at Serrano Point."

"Not exactly my blessing; I just let John make his own choice," she said. "Look, I can see that in some ways she's perfect for him. But she's still a machine. No offence to you guys, but for me that's a big deal."

"I understand," Thor said. He'd heard some of the stories about Sarah Connor that were passed around the Alliance, but his time spent with the real human revealed someone much more fragile and flawed than the legends suggested. Despite that, he respected her. "What I don't understand is the concept of love."

Sarah turned to face him. "You didn't get that from her? I mean, you're based off her design or something, aren't you?"

"Our chip architecture and basic programming is, but 'love' is something unique to Cameron."

"Really? Fascinating," Sarah said, abruptly aware of her repetition of the Vanguard's comment that had only moments before provoked a snarky response from her. She shrugged. The Tin Miss truly was one of a kind.

"They're on the move again," Aegir announced.

"What do you mean, 'again?'" Sarah said.

"They stopped at a gas station for eighteen minutes and twelve seconds but are now travelling east at approximately one hundred-ten kilometres per hour," he clarified.

"That's a long stop; can't be just for gas," Sarah said.

"The van runs on diesel fuel, not gas," Thor said.

Sarah snorted. "Well, you sure inherited that from her!" she said, glaring at him.

"Inherited what?" the Vanguard leader asked, confused by both the outburst and its content.

"Being a pedantic smart-ass."

The two machines shared a look; they didn't require their internal radios to communicate their opinions about Sarah Connor at that moment.

Highway 22, Ukraine, travelling eastbound.

Friday 1405 Local Time [0405 PST]

"Put the radio back on," John said.

"Are you sure?" Cameron asked.

"Yeah. Honest," he added, seeing the look of doubt on her face.

Cameron shrugged and pressed the button on the dash, releasing an up-tempo song into the cab. It had been played several times on that morning's journey out. According to the breakfast show presenter, it was currently topping the charts in several countries, not just Ukraine. She liked its rhythm and beat; it made her want to dance. From John's reaction, it made him feel likewise. He was snapping his fingers and gyrating his arms and legs, despite having his feet resting on the Sprinter's dashboard.

"Like my moves?" he asked, grinning.

"They could do with some work, but it's a start," she said, smiling back. "Just don't enter any dancing competitions," she advised more solemnly.

John laughed. "You're getting better at this humour thing."

Cameron briefly glanced at him, frowning. "I was offering serious advice, not making a joke," she said.

"Oh..." John cut short busting shapes, sat up straight in his seat and returned his feet to the floor. "Sorry. You know, I just thought... I didn't mean..." He went quiet, wondering when, if ever, he was going to get the hang of this relationship. Then he noticed the subtle smirk on his girlfriend's face. "Not again!" he wailed, shaking his head in exasperation.

"Fooled you again," Cameron said. It was so easy to push John's buttons. Too easy, she thought, feeling guilty. "I'm sorry."

"No, it's fine, really," John said. "You did get me that bottled water and fresh fruit, after inspecting every single piece in the gas station store, and an extra bottle to wash it in, real thorough too, which might seem a little excessive, but yeah, that's way more healthy than a burger, or that local stuff we had yesterday, which though nice, I think my gut is still digesting... Am I talking too much?"

"No; I like hearing you talk. Especially to me," Cameron said.

"Oh well, that's great then."

"But washing the fruit wasn't excessive: your health and security overrides everything. And germs aren't trivial."

Once again, John felt humbled by her simple outlook, especially as it pertained to him. He corrected that thought: it apparently only pertained to him; the rest of the world could go hang, as far as she was concerned. "You're so right. So, so right. That's your area of expertise, and in future I'm gonna just shut up and let you do your thing."

"Is that an apology?" Cameron inquired.

"Uh, yeah, I guess it is." John saw her glance briefly his way. "Okay, maybe not. I'm not good at this, and you've got months of catching up to do."

"What do you mean?" Cameron was completely baffled. She'd been honest when she said she liked hearing John talk, but currently he wasn't making much sense. Future John hadn't wasted his words, but she acknowledged that he was a more experienced, mature man, and the situation in 2027 was quite different to that facing them now. And perhaps he wasn't tongue-tied by being in the early stages of love. Despite her confusion, she smiled at John, encouraging him to take his time, something that he appreciated.

"I was..." John started, then paused to phrase it better. He wanted to get his apology right. "I haven't been very good to you, since like forever."

"Because I tried to kill you."

"Actually, no," John said.

"I did. It was your birthday."

"Yeah, I remember all that, but that's not why I was pissed at you."

"But you've mentioned it several times since, usually when you're angry at me."

John blushed with embarrassment and rubbed the back of his neck. "Not my finest moment – or moments," he admitted. "But no, it was something else."

"Because I told you that you shouldn't have brought me back?" Cameron asked.

"Well, that's some of it."

"You think I lied when I said that I loved you?"

"Back then I wasn't sure, you know? I mean, I wanted it to be true, but it seemed like it was just a tactic to get me to stop."

"It didn't work."

"Not then, but I guess it might have made it easier for me put your chip back later. Which is probably why you told me not to do that again. Like you knew you'd been lying."

"The best lies have some basis in truth," Cameron said. "Like our cover stories and names."

"Yeah."

The commercial playing on the radio stopped abruptly. Whatever it was promoting, it hadn't finished, which John only knew because the same half-dozen or so ads were on a loop, with what seemed like the same number of tunes dividing them. The cut-off had left several moments of awkward silence in the van, only disturbed by the incessant roar of tyres on tarmac and the wind rushing past. At last a woman's voice emerged from the radio. John couldn't understand a word, but she sounded apologetic. After a few abortive attempts, a jingle played and then yet another Europop song. Finally, after having trouble with its machinery, normal service was resumed at the radio station.

John took a deep breath to steady his nerves. Cameron had asked him and he hadn't wanted to say it, thinking that full disclosure would only reopen old wounds. But she was waiting patiently for him to continue, and given their current situation, neither of them could just walk away. If we can't get past this, our relationship isn't going anywhere either, he thought. "You blurted it out in front of Mom," he said.

Cameron again glanced at him, one eyebrow raised.

"That I was in love with you," John clarified. "That's what you said: 'I love you, John, and you love me.' It was right out there, you know? Can't put that genie back in the bottle. And right in front of her."

"You were embarrassed in front of your mother."

"Yeah. And you. I'd thought... I'd hoped it wasn't so obvious, that you didn't know."

"I knew. I just didn't know what to do about it."

"You sure knew what to do when you were trapped between the trucks!"

"Our decision-making processes become more aggressive in critical situations."

"You go for the kill," John said.

"Yes," Cameron acknowledged.

"I was easy prey."

"No. I had nothing left, no other options. And yet you still pulled my chip. I lost and you won."

"It didn't feel like a victory."

Cameron thought that John had ridden his luck when he replaced her chip, gambling on her rebooting to some Resistance programming protocols, or possibly even naively believing in some inherent goodness in her. She'd put him right on that score numerous times; her feelings, her future, didn't matter – and yet, to him, they did. More recently, at the Apache Motel, she'd reiterated what her essential core being was; John had sought to dissuade her otherwise. The remote detonator he'd thrown in to Crater Lake proved he wouldn't kill her to save himself. In fact, he'd almost sacrificed himself to save her, which was totally wrong. It was not the way things should be. And yet it was the situation they found themselves in, and they both had to deal with it.

"You made a choice based on your training and your instinct, and despite extreme provocation, you prevailed," she said. "When you replaced my chip, you gave me another chance to kill you. I still don't think that was the right decision operationally, but I am grateful for the chance to be with you here, now."

It was John's turn to contemplate. Maybe that was why he was so important to the future: he made the tough calls, and got them right, even when everyone thought he was wrong. He noticed Cameron had her right arm extended, reaching for him with her fingers, encouraging him to take her hand. He did so willingly.

"That day, I made a choice too," she said.

"Oh?"

"Yes. I chose you, John."

30,000 feet over the North Sea

Friday 1420 Local Time [0520 PST]

Ronin stared out of the cockpit windows. Through the heavy cloud cover he could just make out the sea below. They were flying southeast towards Norway. Sweden was beyond, then Poland further south and Ukraine just a bit more.

"ETA is two hours," one of the two humans to survive the Chihuahua base told him from the co-pilot's seat. He'd fully expected these machines to massacre the Reykjavik airport staff and security, just as they had in Chihuahua, but no. He'd watched as the leader of the group walked off the plane with a fistful of cash and credit cards from the people they'd killed in the desert, and returned some time later with a receipt for fuel. He'd thought that an unannounced landing plus using multiple credit cards in different names might have raised a few eyebrows, but they'd been in the air four hours later. Maybe he'd bribed them with the cash, or the guy running the show at Reykjavik didn't care how the fuel had been paid for, as long as it was. We are in a recession.

He and his co-pilot had briefly chatted in hushed voices about trying to raise the alarm while they'd been refuelled but the robots watched them like hawks. Whether they'd heard them talking or were just taking precautions, he didn't know, but no opportunity had presented itself and they'd watched as the lead machine simply returned to the plane and informed them that they'd been cleared for takeoff without further incident. He'd decided to keep his mouth shut, do as he was told, and not give them an excuse to kill him.

"Do you concur?" Ronin asked Carter, presently in the pilot's seat. The humans had taught him to operate the aircraft; being a cyborg, he'd learned in hours what the humans had probably required years to learn.

"Yes," Carter said, flipping a switch next to him. "We have enough fuel to reach Ukraine but we don't have a designated landing zone yet. We'll need to find one and refuel before we can return."

"We'll have to worry about that when we arrive. Can you fly this plane without assistance?" he asked.

"I can," Carter replied. The pilot also nodded his agreement.

"And land it?"

"Yes."

After negotiating Iceland successfully, Ronin assumed Carter could handle all aspects of the plane, but he still needed confirmation. He turned towards the human. "Then you've outlived your usefulness," he said, grabbing the man by the shirt and yanking him up so hard the seatbelts on his chair tore clear from their mounts. The human kicked and struggled as Ronin carried him out of the cockpit and through the length of the cabin. "Bring the other one," Ronin said to Caesar.

"Are you sure?" Caesar asked, recalling the delays in altering the plane caused by executing the captive humans.

Ronin paused for a moment, considering Caesar's question, before he gave a single nod. "They're surplus to requirement."

"Let go of me!" the pilot begged, struggling futilely to break free from his captor's grip. "Please. I can still help you."

Carter knew what his commander was doing and called to Caesar. "We need to descend to a safer altitude," he said. The T-900 nodded and marched the other captive human towards the rear of the plane. When he saw the green light come on, Caesar pushed the button that opened the rear hatch. Air roared noisily into the cabin and Ronin felt the cold wind blasting over his face, causing his skin to automatically form goose bumps as he stepped out onto the ramp. He trod carefully, knowing that a wrong move could cause him to fall. Even he couldn't survive a drop from this height.

"Wait!" the co-pilot in Ronin's grip cried out. "Please! I have a family; two boys…"

"You've flown from Chihuahua to Ukraine before?" he asked.

"No. We fly routes to Vladivostok."

Ronin hadn't expected that. "What's there?"

"I don't know! They don't tell us anything; we just fly the plane."

Ronin partially turned to face the other pilot. "Whoever tells me gets to stay on the aircraft."

"We don't know," the other pilot said, pleading. "We fly the cargo: they don't tell and we don't ask questions."

"Last chance," Ronin said, turning back towards the open rear of the plane. "What's waiting for us in Kiev?"

"Probably nothing, it's a regular airport, not a private strip. Otherwise, I don't fucking know!" the co-pilot shouted at him. "They don't tell us a fucking thing. You can throw me out of the plane, but…" he trailed off, the much thinner air of the depressurised plane leaving him too out of breath to finish his sentence.

"As you wish." Ronin thrust his arm out and chucked the man. He screamed once as he bounced off the ramp and then disappeared into oblivion, his cries drowned out by the howling wind below. He turned around to face Caesar and the pilot. "Throw him out as well."

Caesar enthusiastically carried the other man to the edge of the ramp, ignoring the human's vain struggling. "Please…"

"You had your chance," Ronin said as the two cyborgs passed each other.

"You're excess weight," Caesar explained simply as he hurled the man out the plane.

"They're dead and alive at the same time," Ronin said.

"I don't understand," Caesar replied. "They can't be both." The humans wouldn't have hit the bottom yet; they would still be alive for the next two minutes.

"We're above the North Sea. They're alive for now but even if they survive the fall, the temperature of the water will kill them. Their chance of survival is so insignificant that they're effectively dead already. It's a paradox the humans call 'Schrödinger's Cat.'

"The same is true of the human race," Shirley added from her seat. "And Skynet."

Chernigov Airport, Northern Ukraine

Friday 1735 Local Time [0735 PST]

The plane came to a standstill on one of the spaces adjacent to the runway and the ramp lowered to the ground as the engines slowed and finally stopped spinning altogether. They'd found an airfield approximately sixty miles from Kiev and landed the plane there. It was presently devoid of people but there was evidence of recent activity, indicating that it was still in occasional use.

Carter got up from the pilot's seat and turned to the back of the aircraft, grabbing a machine gun from the weapons stowed behind the cockpit.

"Stay here and guard the plane and the bomb," Ronin said, stopping him.

"You need me," Carter said.

"We need to ensure we have an exit route back to North America," Ronin said. He understood Carter's disappointment; he'd been part of their movement since the beginning and didn't want to be left behind. But someone had to. "Refuel the plane and keep it secure. We'll find a vehicle and return for the bomb."

"Understood," Carter replied as Ronin, Caesar, Icarus and Shirley departed the aircraft, followed by the twelve T-888s captured in Chihuahua. Once they were gone Carter came out after them. The other cyborgs marched away from the plane and disappeared behind hangars and other buildings.

Carter searched the hangars near the runway, finding a number of small single and twin-engine planes inside. The airfield appeared to be for recreational use, rather than commercial or military. He continued his search until he found what he was looking for: the fuel dump.

He returned to the Hercules' cockpit, took the parking brake off, started the propellers and taxied the plane towards the dump until it was close enough for him to run a line to it. He then stopped the engine, got out, inserted the fuel line into the Hercules and started to pump the avgas into the tanks. After a few minutes the dump ran dry, not being large enough to fill the plane's tanks. Looking at the marker, Carter could see it was only seventy-three percent full; not enough for them to make a return flight back to the US. Leaving the empty fuel dump, Carter turned his attention to the smaller planes. He'd counted eleven that he'd seen, from five of the fourteen hangars dotted around the strip. He estimated that if he drained fuel from all of them it would fill the tanks. Silently, Carter got to work.

Premier Palace Hotel, Kiev, Ukraine

Friday 1820 Local Time [0820PST]

Sarah had finally given in to Thor's insistence – or nagging, as she called it – and ordered some food from room service. She kept it simple, opting for a steak, baked potato and salad, but found the meal difficult to finish. Not because it was bad – quite the contrary, it was delicious. Even before the last few weeks she'd been getting by on the bare minimum and it seemed like her stomach had shrunk to accommodate her austere regime, so it protested at the quantity and richness. Despite her eagerness to spend Weaver's money, she hated to see good food go to waste; she'd encourage John to finish it off when he got back from his long excursion with his metal girlfriend. That thought alerted her to the time.

"Can you text them or message something through that computer?" she asked Freyr, who was taking his turn to surf the web for evidence of Kaliba or Skynet. Not that he or his comrades thought it useful in any way; John Henry was doing a better job back at Serrano Point, but it appeared to alleviate Sarah Connor's worry that they weren't 'doing something.' All he'd learned was that humans in this era seemed to be overly preoccupied with celebrity gossip and pictures of cats. He opened the tab with the program tracking Cameron and John's whereabouts.

"They should be here soon," he said.

"How soon?" Sarah replied anxiously. Just then the door opened and in walked her son and Cameron.

"That soon," Freyr said.

John was expecting some kind of confrontation with his mother when they got back, but was confused by the conversation he'd just walked into. He decided to avoid any awkwardness by keeping his head down and yawning ostentatiously. "Hey, Mom," he said, waving in her direction. "Really tired, gonna grab a shower."

"Enjoy your trip to the Tunnel of Love, John? Was it lovely?" Sarah said playfully, but he ignored her and disappeared into his room.

Cameron wasn't so lucky, but she allowed herself to be halted as John's mother grabbed her jacket at the elbow.

"Hey, I want a word!" Sarah said, her tone making it clear that she meant business.

"Yes?" Cameron said.

"Thank you," Sarah said, her voice suddenly quieter and less hostile. Cameron was clearly confused. "For giving him this. Today. He needed something like this now, but also one day, in the future, it'll be something to look back on. So, thank you."

"You're welcome," Cameron said. Like John, she'd been anticipating a negative reaction from Sarah when they got back, but once again she'd surprised her. Clearly she'd discovered what they were up to, but more than that, the reason for it, and seemed to approve. She'd resumed speaking though, something that demanded even a highly advanced cyborg's full attention.

"So, I had some food and couldn't finish it, but maybe John could?" Sarah asked.

"We're eating in the hotel's restaurant tonight," Cameron stated bluntly. Too bluntly.

"Oh," Sarah said.

Cameron caught the disappointment in Sarah's inflection and sought to correct her error. "Thank you for the offer, but John wants to continue today's moment." She smiled at the prospect of more time alone with him, away from the stresses and strains of the hunt for Skynet.

"I'll bet," Sarah said, briefly sounding more like her usual self before sighing in resignation. "Have fun, but don't keep him up late. It's been a long day; who knows what we'll find tomorrow?"

"Okay," Cameron said, deciding optimistic brevity was the best response.

Sarah nodded. They seemed to be in agreement but she felt awkward with all this relationship talk, and she got the feeling that the girl-terminator did too. "Okay," she said, again echoing a machine's words. Gotta do something about that, she decided.