Right around the time SkyNET was blowing a few circuits over this revelation, James and his crew had begun their descent into the adjacent valley. They had been at the bunker long enough and though Derrick was hardly in any shape to move it dawned on them that they had overstayed their welcome. There would be other units along in time, and down one terminator and essentially one soldier they were in poor shape to mount an effective resistance. Moving was the only sound tactical solution.

They would make their way down an old four-wheel drive trail to the El Captain dam, some seven miles away. Catherine seemed to have an idea that John Henry was there but offered no proof of this other than her own aloof conviction. James was wary of putting his men in the firing line again and told her so. They left the bunker at dusk.

Derrick's belly still hurt like hell, but he was alive. He'd been eating antibiotics by the handful, and changing bandages every six hours. They'd used all of their medical supplies on him and he felt a bit guilty about that - a soldier does not like to be a hindrance to the mission. One look at the wound and he knew that he'd have a scar to tell people about. He still hadn't had the chance to thank John - in fact the boy seemed to be avoiding all of them with a sort of methodical conviction, instead choosing to spend time with Weaver or Gabriel.

Derrick could say little for his taste in friends. He tried to put it out of his mind and decided not to think terribly hard about the conversation that abruptly ended when he had woken up. And he dared not mention to anyone, particularly not Kyle, about the long glances that John and Alison had shared since then. John may have saved Derricks life, but Kyle wouldn't forgive another man's hands on his woman. Derrick hoped he was at least that smart.

John was glad to be moving out. He'd laid low and recuperated himself and now he felt pretty damned good. Part of it was the rest. Part of it was just plain gumption. He'd gone toe-to-toe with an endoskeleton and lived to tell about it, though he heard the little voice in the back of his head telling him that luck had delivered that victory. But that rush of victory, that was something he would have to feel again and soon.

But it did bring him pride to know that he'd saved a life. It felt good, for once, to be John Connor. He wondered if he felt like this often. John wondered if, when future him had sent men to die, it was somehow offset by the fact that they were dying for something - sacrifice them so that others may live. Chances are it was a hollow comfort but for now, he'd take it.

Adding to his glowing ego, James had given him a rifle. He carried it lovingly, enjoying the weight of it in his hands. He cleaned it three times before they left, checking the action, loading and unloading his three magazines, sighting it in. John felt like he could stop a freight train, just he and his rifle and a clean place to shoot from.

Just give me a clean shot, he thought.

His own delusions aside things were going well. They had set out just a little before sunset and as the horizon turned blood red, then orange and into indigo he had the chance to gaze across the landscape. On this side of the hill there weren't any bodies, no wreckage. It seemed pristine and almost like home. He was glad to know that the future still had a place for the things that he had taken for granted. When he got home - if he did, that was - the first thing he was going to do was run barefoot through the grass. Or maybe hug a tree, just to let it know that he missed them.

They were headed down slope in a zig-zag pattern, following the other side of the jeep trail. The moon was waning and hung like a silver blade in the night sky, casting just enough light to guide them on their way. They were destined for the El Captain reservoir. John trusted her for the most part but knew that the others did not. Even James who had seemed too pleased to see her now seemed to have run out of patience and distanced himself from her, taking point as Gabriel took up the rear for his lost brother.

Weaver, if she noticed at all, didn't seem to care. She walked close to John and ever since she had emerged from her regeneration had been close to him. She didn't engage him in idle conversation - if she spoke to him there was always a point. If she interacted with him it was to get him to do something or to notice some little detail.

As they looped around one of the hairpins James came to a stop, taking out his binoculars to look down the valley. John had a hard time seeing in the dim light but he could just make out the shape of something large and reflective in the distance. From this far away it was just a smudge against the landscape.

"Is that the dam?" John asked when he caught up with the General.

"Yep, the El Captain dam. Still holds water after all this time. Good thing too, it would be a big damn mess if fell apart." He glanced at his men just to make sure they were all accounted for.

"How you doing Reese?"

"Fine." They both answered, though one sounded more fine than the other.

"Young?"

"I'm here. Doing okay." She had been following them, in front of Gabriel but behind John. There was a light sheen of sweat on her brow.

Gabriel was the last to catch up but he hardly seemed the worse for wear.

"Distance?" James asked.

Gabriel looked off in the direction of the dam. "Three miles distant as the crow flies. Unfortunately we do not have a direct route. We'll have to follow the jeep trail down and along the valley floor. Five and one fifth miles, approximately."

"Do we know what's down there?" John asked.

James shifted his eyes to Catherine but didn't answer. "Let's keep moving. Get down into the ruins in the valley floor. We're too exposed up here."

Once they had spread out again John accosted Catherine. Her silence was becoming unnerving.

"You haven't been very talkative since you finished your regeneration, are you sure you're up for this?"

Catherine regarded him out of one eye, moving it independently of the other in a motion that John found only somewhat disturbing. "I'm fine, Connor." She knew he would try to talk to her, to fulfill his human need to communicate with her.

"Just thought I'd ask." He turned away again, seemingly unperturbed. "But if you want to talk about it, you can talk to me. We're friends, remember?" He said.

Catherine thought about this for a moment. "Are you so certain of that now? You were afraid of me before, remember? What says you shouldn't be now?"

"Intuition." He lied. He was still afraid of her, but if there was something else wrong with her he needed to know about that too.

"Human intuition. The apex of your species' arrogance."

John lifted and eyebrow at her. Now he was getting somewhere. He just had to gamble that she wouldn't cut him in half if he pestered her about it.

"I'd hardly call it the apex of our arrogance. It works pretty well, you should give it a try."

Catherine seemed to pick up her pace. "Intuition is the idea that you can predict events based on no formal evidence. A human fallacy that somehow you can perceive what is beyond perception."

"Not based on no evidence. Based on limited evidence. There is a difference."

She didn't answer this time, the only sound from her was her boots clomping along the ground. Even those made an angry sound.

"Like right now. I can tell you're irritated. I guess you do have it in you after all."

The boy was beginning to get under her skin ever so slightly. Humans did these things - they would talk needlessly or they would banter back and forth about useless, trivial garbage. The worst was their self-righteousness. She could hardly stand how they made themselves out to be at the center of the universe. For a split second she wondered what it would be like without them, starting with the one walking right next to her.

"Catherine?"

She came back to herself only to realize that she had stopped walking. Everyone in the column was looking at her, some with looks of confusion, others with impatience. James was one of the latter. She noticed and looked away as quickly as she could.

"So you want to talk about it?"

John wouldn't shut up. "About what?"

"About what happened on the mountainside? You were dead."

She turned her head towards him so quickly he thought she might actually come after him. Her hands remained on her weapon but John still felt uncomfortable. The daggers were in her eyes.

"I cannot die."

"Is that a fact?"

"Death for you and death for me are two different things. It would be difficult to imagine something where I was shut off all at once – where all activity within my matrix ceased. Sudden death, if you will."

"I guess I don't follow. But I know you don't have a chip, so…"

"So there is no single point of failure on my person. If you were to hit an eight hundred in the chip, they would immediately cease to function. No matter what they were doing, no matter what they were thinking, the chip is the single point of failure. Michael ceased to function with a single direct impact."

"But you're different."

Catherine gave an almost imperceptible nod. "One difference that I can say is both a blessing and a curse."

"So tell me about it." John said.

This time she seemed to relent, slowing her pace to a casual walk. She looked thoughtful in a way that John would never have associated with her. When she began to speak she didn't sound like Catherine Weaver the machine but rather he would have sworn he was speaking to Catherine Weaver, mother of Savannah.

"Imagine that when you die, you don't die all at once. Imagine that when you die, it's like being shut off one function at a time. At first you don't even notice it, like you've the sensation in your little finger. But then you lose another and another, and eventually you've lost an arm or a leg. But it isn't only the feeling that is fading from you, but the ability to process what you are feeling. You begin to lose the ability to think, to rationalize, until all you have left is the ability to feel fear and not understand any of it. That is what it was like John, dying in slow motion, one piece at a time."

When she finished her voice had lost its harsh edge, fading into an almost distant melancholy. When she turned to him again the danger was gone from her eyes and she seemed relieved to have gotten it all out.

"So you're right, I was dead. Take it from me, the only thing worse than dying is being brought back. Be glad you'll never have to go through it."

John reflected on her words, kneading out the hidden meaning behind what she told him. His concern was for her wellbeing firstly but he could not hide in his mind the more useful concern of what her death had revealed about her function.

"I remember when one like you came for me in 1995. I held a part of him in my hand but it was inert, like it was just some piece of scrap."

"It would have been just a piece of metal. When I am whole, as I am now, all of the polyalloy fuses together, becoming in essence one large amalgam of smaller parts. If a part is lost it cannot fully function without the whole."

"How small?" John asked.

Catherine gave him a spry look. "Not sure if I should tell you that. Then you'd know my weakness. I'd be at your mercy."

He laughed at this. "Think of it as an information exchange. You tell me this, and I'll do you a favor."

She thought about this for a moment. "My polyalloy structure will form a cohesive CPU unit with as little as three cubic centimeters of mass. However, for what you would consider functional intelligence it requires no less than a third of my mass." She explained.

John waited for the inevitable request and when none came he prompted her. "Well, don't you want your favor?"

"Not right away. You see John, if there is one thing about me that you should know it is that I am patient. I've waited a long time to meet you; I can hold you in my debt a little longer."

If that was supposed to make him feel any better it did not, and John would spend a great deal of time over the next few days wondering what she would ask of him. Hopefully it wouldn't be anything to outlandish, but with her you could never tell.

In the distance, the dam grew larger. Above, the stars watched in idle fascination, peering down into the valley.

(*****)

"God dammit Paulie." Fletcher accentuated every word, throwing his cards down on the table. "Fucking full house and I still loose. How do you do that?"

Paulie sat across from him giggling like a little girl on her birthday. She had four aces in her outstretched hand. This was the third hand in a row she'd beaten him, and he didn't like it. It didn't matter - what they did after the card game was always more fun.

Fletcher, or just Fletch to most people, swore under his breath at the injustice of it all. If he'd ever known she was this good at cards he never would have approached her, never would have been thrown for a loop by those deep green eyes and that thick head of hair. But he had, and here he was, the only sore loser for several miles.

"What the hell. Drink?" He resigned himself to this pleasant fate and offered her a sip out of his bottle. It was there last one, and she took it from him, draining it in two big gulps.

"Thanks."

"Didn't have to take all of it." He threw the bottle back in their pack. If they wanted any more from the brew master back on base, they'd have to bring the bottle back. Hard to find a good beer bottle these days.

"I earned it."

Paulie and Fletch had been playing cards under the bombed out remains of what had been an aircraft hangar. Now the steel shell served as shelter from the rain and wind, and a good place to shoot from. This had been a small airport once - he couldn't remember what it had been called. He was a kid the last time that had any meaning at all. What had it been? Gillspine? Giuseppe?

"Fuck it." He said under his breath. He'd never remember.

"Hmm?" She looked at him, taking the cards back and shuffling the deck with one hand.

"Were you a card shark in a previous life?"

Paulie, Paula really, shuffled as she talked to him. The cards were frayed, filthy but it was damned good fun. It reminded her of her grandmother. They would play rummy at the dinner table before they set the table for a meal. She'd gotten pretty good over the years.

"I told you, I'm from Vegas. I'm a dealer, just here passing through until I can get my mojo back."

"Then you'll go back to Vegas right?" He huffed at her.

"Mmmhmm."

"Can I come?"

They both laughed out loud at this as she dealt again, five card draw, jokers wild. Just like always.

"Wouldn't be the same without you." She leaned across the table and kissed him long and deep, just long enough to look at his cards.

'I've got you again.' She could hardly contain herself.

"What is with you tonight?" He loved to see her like this. Paulie was his gal, his woman. The first one that had really been his. They got along good, shared interests (mostly cards and booze) and had great, noisy sex. They were both noisy, so much so that they got shipped out here. No one wanted to listen to them anymore. They also happened to be passable soldiers.

"Just having fun. Aren't you?"

"I'm always having fun. But I saw you looking at my cards, and I'm afraid I can't let that one slide." Fletch got up and put his cards face up on the table. Five cards of nothing, eight high. "I'm going to have to teach you a lesson."

She smiled at him. "Sounds like fun." She let the cards fall from her hand as he fell into her, his kiss turning into something more demanding, his hands roaming over her. The alcohol and foreplay had done its job, and by now they were both ready for it.

Fletch had her shirt halfway up her back and was getting ready to tear the damned thing off when Paulie held his wrist fast.

"What's the matter Paulie, worried your mothers gonna -" She snapped her hand up over his mouth, kicking the portable lamp off its mount. It fell to the ground, leaving them in semidarkness.

"There's something coming, I can hear it." She pulled her hand away from his mouth, praying he wouldn't say anything too loudly.

He didn't. Fletch retracted his hand from the warmth of her breast and listened.

She was right.

The noise was a low moan coming from somewhere distant. The sound wasn't unfamiliar. It grew in volume quickly until they could easily make out the sound. One look between them was all it took.

"H.K." Fletcher hissed.

Paulie agreed. They got organized as quickly as they could, swearing that they'd never get caught with their pants down again, if they could only have an again. Whatever it was must have been close and there had to be more than one. Paulie stuck her head out just a little bit to see and pulled back just as quickly.

"Fucking dropships, two of them and one H.K. Looks like they're headed right over us."

"Two of them? What are they doing with all that firepower?" Fletcher fumbled with the radio as he tried to get a look for himself. Sure enough, in the darkness he could make out the running lights on a single H.K. airship. On either side flew a scaled up version - SkyNET dropships. Fletcher didn't know what was in the belly of those beasts, but it could only be a few things.

He held his panic in, refusing to let it spiral out of control. They had gone right over them. They weren't stopping here. Thank god...

"Command this is Chula Vista recon team North - copy." He breathed into the radio, letting his breath escape in an unsettled rasp.

"Hope someone is listening." Paulie said.

"They will be. San Diego base, come in." He let the trigger on the radio go

For a moment there was nothing, but then the radio sprang to life. "San Diego base, is that you Fletch? What's going on up there?"

Fletch took a moment to compose himself before he answered. "We've got SkyNET movement right over our heads, two dropships and a gunship. Look like they're headed up the Alpine road. We don't have people up there do we?"

"Uh, that's a negative, at least I don't think so. I'll look into -" The radio operators voice was drowned out in a sudden burst of static.

Fletch swore under his breath. "I think they've jammed us."

"It's worse than that." Paulie lifted her hand. The gunship had broken off from the dropships and was circling back towards them, its searchlights slowly panning over the wreckage. It was looking for something.

"Shit."

(*****)

The valley floor was a tangle of bone-dry vegetation and derelicts - anything from automobiles to camper trailers to the occasional ramshackle cottage. Everything there had been for years, and now what did grow in this arid place was beginning to take root in the rotting hulks. They were still a few hundred feet above the floor, but John could see enough even in the dim light.

"People took refuge here after the bombs went off. They didn't last long - SkyNET wanted what was in the dam. Hydro plant, power for the first machines." Derrick told them.

"How do you know?" John asked.

"We were here." Kyle said.

"That must have been pretty horrible." John commented, not realizing the reaction it would draw.

"You have no idea. They didn't use guns back then, in those first days after Judgment day, at least not as much. The first machines came through here and just killed everything. They were stupid - if it moved, kill it. Fucking mess, Connor." The elder Reese finished by pushing by him and Catherine, giving the woman a long glare that only she could return in kind.

"In other words, it was pretty fucking bad." Kyle said.

Gabriel scanned the wreckage. There was nothing down there that lived - but that didn't mean it was safe. "Tread lightly."

"You have a bad feeling about this?" Derrick asked him.

"I don't get bad feelings Reese." Gabriel said. "You know that."

Derrick huffed out an agreement and started down the last section of valley wall. Here the road turned steeply down making their boots slide out from under them. John could tell Derrick was in a fair amount of pain but he didn't stop or offer to help. Doing nothing was hard, but offering to help might have been painful.

"He's right John. This area is tactically dangerous." Catherine said.

John could tell. He looked down at the maze of debris and imagined all the dead ends, all the sharp metal, these things could kill you without meaning to. The hair on the back of his neck stood up. This place was a graveyard.

"Yeah, flat and crowded. Good place to die." He told her.

"We'll try not to." She said.

"Man I hate this part." John said. Reluctantly he followed Derrick, half sliding, half walking down the last grade.

John was the last to reach the bottom. He bounced off the rocks on the way down, hardly able to keep his footing and hold onto his rifle at the same time. Everyone else had made it look so easy - even Derrick who was really in no shape to do anything made it without so much as a stumble. After losing his footing at the bottom John looked up sheepishly at the others, but no one else seemed to notice.

"It's quiet." Kyle said, leaning towards Alison. "Too quiet."

"Shut up." She replied.

"She's right." Gabriel said. "Wait."

Everyone stopped in their tracks. If he had heard something or seen something it was no doubt beyond any of their abilities to perceive, but that didn't mean there wasn't trouble. Gabriel threw his rifle over his back (He had left the long rifle at the compound almost reluctantly, not having any more ammunition for it) and reached into his pack, pulling out the radio. There was a high pitched, intermittent squeal coming from it.

He switched the band up, and then back down again. The squeal vanished before coming back stronger than before. This time there was a signal. There was a voice.

" - base to Ellison do you copy, come in. This is San Diego base, repeating. Anyone in the Generals detachment, do you copy? Reese? Ahh hell -" The line went static.

Gabriel thumbed the transmitter. "This is Gabriel San Diego, copying that last message."

"Thank god." The reply was immediate. "Is your group all there Gabriel?"

"Affirmative. Mostly."

"We've just got a report of two SkyNET dropships headed into the valley up over Chula Vista. I have a unit engaged against an H.K. in the area, it was flying cover. What is your current position?"

Gabriel switched off the radio. "They're coming here."

"They might not know we're here..."

"They know we're here. You can't just blow up an ogre and not expect it to get noticed. I'm surprised it took this long." Derrick cut him off.

"Shouldn't we tell them where -"

"No one would be able to get here in time. We've got to keep moving, double it up! Come on." The General gave his orders, and his men followed. Soon they were moving at a trot across the valley floor, dodging the scattered axels and prickly brush.

"Gabriel, the radio."

Gabriel handed it James as they all broke into a trot up the Valley.

"San Diego base, we're located on the saddle, please advise on reinforcement timetable, Sandtiger out."

"Sandtiger?" John said, rolling his eyes with his words.

James let go of the transmit button. "Just told anyone who knows to disregard everything I just said. SkyNET usually isn't that savvy. We're on our own this far out but SkyNET may still not know where we are." He handed the radio back to Gabriel. "Is everything set up back there?"

Gabriel nodded. "Ready. Michael's power pack is prepped."

"Good..."

"Sandtiger confirmed. We'll have chopper support on the saddle in less than ten, we're rolling out now." There was a pause, and then a final comment. "Good luck." The channel went dead and Gabriel stuffed the radio back into his pack.

"Okay, you heard it here folks, less than ten. We've got to find some cover and it had better be damned good."

John's heart was racing a mile a minute now. His boots crushed the ground under him and as he held the rifle closer and closer to his heart he could sense that familiar feeling building within him. He'd felt it a few nights ago, staring down a terminator on the battlefield.

It was adrenaline. It made him strong, made his heart leap in his chest. They were in mortal danger and he knew it but he couldn't help but enjoy the feeling that came up over him.

He was scared to death, and he loved it.