The El Captain Dam was a sheet of bleached concrete that rose several hundred feet off the valley floor. Water still rushed through its subterranean pipe works, and the lights inside the corridor flickered as if powered by some ethereal energy. Inside the air was stale and humid. The line of travelers disappeared from sight, leaving behind a silent night.
Catherine led the way downward. The hallways were darkened and slick with moisture which sometimes flowed in rivulets down the walls. They navigated in the meager light as best they could, hands on the wall for guidance. The sound of boots scuffing against the concrete was the only sound, coupled with a faint drone of some long forgotten machinery.
The floor seemed to slope steadily downward towards some natural center of the structure, and every so they thought there was sound from the adjacent rooms. The group pressed on, leaving the natural world outside and descended into a tomb which had not bore human footsteps in nearly two decades.
As if aware of some holy place the group remained silent. Any trepidations they had were undermined by the sense that their journey was coming to an end and trust, though it may never have been completely shared between them, was grudgingly lent if only for the purpose of reaching that end.
Finally they came to a single door, its white paint stained with splotches of growing rust. The light here was weak, threatening to fade entirely and leave them in this dark place. John thought he could feel the machinery of the dam turning somewhere through the concrete. For many years afterward he would remember the far-away whine of the turbines spinning unseen, singing an endless song of water and metal. The door would not open, so they knocked thrice.
The sound was hollow and at first there was nothing. Then, as if after some thought as to who might have come knocking a voice came from the other side.
"Catherine Weaver?"
"Yes." She said.
The handle on the door groaned as some unseen hand turned it from within. The door cracked only slightly.
"You have humans with you - resistance soldiers."
"Yes, I travel with them."
"We are not armed." The door slid open a little farther, rocking on rusty hinges.
Derrick brought his rifle up in a sweeping motion, but Catherine caught the barrel. "Don't shoot Mister Reese. I'll go first if it'll make you feel better."
There were four endoskeletons in the room, each one fixed on the door. The one who had opened the door stepped back and allowed them through, eyeing each of them with a pair of gleaming red eyes.
"Catherine Weaver, where is John Connor?" It asked.
She looked over her shoulder to John, but didn't point him out. She waited as if to see what he would do when surrounded by this ambiguous force.
"I'm John Connor." He said. He had given it some thought - that this close, it might have been the last thing he ever did. He held his breath.
"Welcome to the resistance, John Connor, and welcome to those who travel with him." The first one seemed to speak for the group.
"I am here to see John Henry." John said. He looked back at Alison as if to remind himself of what he had gone without, to remind him that through all this there was light at the end of the tunnel.
"Very well. He expects you. And you, Catherine Weaver."
"You can just call me Catherine." She sighed. "These models were always so formal."
The looks on the faces of the soldiers, Alison, Derrick and Kyle and even the General told the story from the other side. Alison had shrunk back to the door as if trying to disappear down the hallway. Derrick and Kyle shared looks, not sure of what they should do. Kyle had his hand on the trigger and was sure, almost sure anyway, that he could get one before they were on him. The eight fifties had such thick skin though... Derrick was fixed on the one closest to him. It was no more than a long step away. He wondered if he could raise his weapon in time to defend himself. Quietly, he hoped it would not come to that.
Catherine seemed to notice. "Don't be alarmed. And don't go shooting anyone, wouldn't be polite."
The Reese brothers each forced out a smile.
"Sure." Derrick said.
"No problem." Kyle nodded vigorously.
"You may make yourselves at home. Please wait with these soldiers while I take Catherine and John to meet John Henry. They have much to discuss."
"Wait, John." Alison stepped forward and locked her eyes on him, as if searching his resolve to find her own.
He turned to her, and she saw that he looked more resigned than ever. Calm even. "I'll be back." With that, he left them.
They headed down farther still, Catherine and John following the big endo through the winding hallways and metal staircases. They had surely past all hope of return as the surface became a faint memory. John tried to keep his face straight and his eyes forward but he felt almost giddy. He had done it. John Connor had crossed through time, landed in a strange future and waged a personal war along the way. He had never felt more alive - a far cry from the boy who had been alone and unknown only days earlier.
His mission: to retrieve Cameron and return home, to ensure Judgment day never happened. For the first time in his life he felt like it was a real possibility because for the first time he knew what it might take. And, as fate had smiled on him before, this time he had it.
After passing through a maze of tunnels and rooms, edging ever downward they finally came to a single steel door hidden deep in the dam. This one was different, however. The door was gleaming like stainless steel as if it were new and it hung half open. There was a bright blue light somewhere on the other side, casting weird shadows on the walls. The endo pushed the door open and they stepped inside.
This was the first time John had seen this body as anything but Cromartie, and for a moment he forgot just what it was he was looking at. The machine seemed to be engrossed in something. He was stooped over a concrete workbench, surrounded by welding equipment and hyper alloy bits and pieces.
Catherine made a sound like she was clearing her throat.
John Henry looked up and smiled. "It's good to see you Miss Weaver." He looked past her to the young man hiding in the shadows. John Henry got up from his workbench and walked over to them both. "It is good to finally meet John Connor. I've heard much about you."
John smiled bitterly. "I'm glad to be here."
"I am surprised to see you. You must have followed me through the TDE."
John hung his head. "How'd you guess?"
"No need to be flippant, I was only trying to make small conversation." He said. "Why have you come?"
John gritted his teeth. "You took something -" He stopped and recalculated what he was going to say. "You took someone that was important to me. I'm here to get her back."
The machine raised an eyebrow and smiled, exchanging a glance with Weaver that told the only human there that far more was being said about him than he was hearing. "Is that why you're here? For Cameron? She would be upset with you."
"I'd like to hear her say that." John said. "But I don't really give a damn at this point."
"Are you angry with me?"
"You're damned right I am."
"Why? She gave me her chip of her own free will. There was no coercion or -."
"Look, John..." John pulled out his knife, letting the blade slide from its action. "Are you going to give her to me, or will I just have to take her?" It didn't matter how unlikely this sounded in a room full of machines any of which would be likely more than he could handle. That was the farthest thing from his mind. John Henry was hiding something and circumstances being what they were, John felt the need to bare all secrets.
The endoskeleton turned towards John and looked as if it might try to stop him, but John Henry put up his hand. "Don't worry. That will not be necessary, I am no longer using her chip."
John felt himself let out a sigh and felt his arms relax. Was he really ready to do that? He pocketed the knife, still uneasy with what was not being said.
"Cameron is in the next room. Follow me. Would you like to come Catherine?"
Catherine seemed to contemplate what was going on. For once she didn't look austere or arrogant. John watched as her jaw moved and realized that she was uncomfortable, preparing herself for something she didn't want - or didn't want him - to see.
"I'll stay." Was all she said.
"Very well. John, come this way." John Henry stepped away.
The endoskeleton moved to follow.
"Leave them." Catherine said.
Whatever thoughts flashed through its neural net brain were there and gone in a flash. It stood down, offering to wait there instead.
"I'm going back to the others." She turned and hurried from the room in a quick trot, and didn't slow until she was sure she could no longer hear anything that was going on below.
John felt the cold more acutely down here in the strange blue and white light of the underground. Ever since they'd come to the dam he'd moved forward with the knowledge that she'd be here. Something now hung in the air which slowed him, made him cold. He remembered the one maxim spouted by his uncle what seemed like a lifetime ago.
'The chip, the only part that can't be replaced.'
He found himself thinking of how vulnerable she was without him. How strange it was to feel that way – that she needed him, and even stranger was his willingness to reach out across any distance to pull her back from the dark. As they walked in silence, John girded himself for the only possibility he could think of...
She was gone.
A lump formed in his throat.
John Henry led him into a well-lit room that seemed strangely out of place. It was surgically clean and well lit. Equipment he couldn't identify lined the walls and great loops of cable hung from the ceiling. At the center of all this sat a single table, complete with mechanical arms that reminded him of something out of the twilight zone. Upon the table, a chrome endoskeleton lay deactivated.
"Cameron." He heard himself say.
The machine was terrible and beautiful in his mind, nothing like he had imagined. The eight hundred series looked like death, but even in this state she looked alive and fluid. The lines on her body were smooth and clean, curving to form the round contours that would support her organic exterior. He was strangely okay seeing her this way - he felt like he had never known her better. One hand found its way to the smooth ridge of her forehead.
The chip port was open, and empty.
"No chip. Where is she?" John spun around, his voice accusing.
"Right here." John Henry motioned towards a small console.
Her chip was enclosed in a glass case, plugged into an interface that was not unfamiliar. Lines of staggered code flashed across the screen as they watched.
"She's right there John."
"What's wrong with her?"
John Henry stepped towards the endoskeleton on the table, placing his hand on her forehead, imitating what he had seen. "It's complicated."
"Uncomplicate it." This was nothing less than a demand.
The machine seemed to stand up straighter before looking John in the eye. He grabbed a chair and slid it over to John, motioning for him to sit. John did, and soon they were face to face. John Henrys face was a mixture of trepidation and determination.
"She was damaged." He began. "Her chip was damaged in an explosion and sections of her CPU were compromised."
"I understand that." The lump in his throat was coming back, stronger now.
"She continued to function, however. But she did suffer a lapse in sentience which resulted in a reversion to alternate programming."
"She tried to kill me."
"She got closer than I ever did." John Henry made a weak smile.
"Yeah, well I gave her every chance."
If John Henry had any reaction to this he kept it hidden. John wanted to think that he knew something good, something that would make this worthwhile. So far his faith was going unrewarded.
"Do you know what happened? After the explosion?"
John had to think before he answered. He really had no idea what happened. He had tried to fix her chip but even he would admit that he had no idea what he had done, if he had accomplished anything at all. If he had done anything it was this - he had taken a huge risk with the lives of everyone there. He had traded trust to the shadows, and received his greatest reward.
"Honestly, I don't know. I thought I fixed her. There was a chance I hadn't done anything. I guess I just sort of threw caution to the wind."
"She never forgave you for that."
John could only smile. "Which she?"
"Indeed."
"Look, do you know everything that happened...I mean, all of her memories?"
John Henry nodded. "Everything she saw, everything she thought."
John suddenly felt embarrassed. "We're skirting the issue here."
"We are. I am. I feel a measure of responsibility when it comes to Cameron." He looked at her, at her chip this time as if he was addressing both of them. "There are many things about her I do not understand. I only know that she gave herself to help all of us, and you most of all. By far, you most of all."
These were the words that John was waiting to hear and when he did he didn't have to try to stop the tears, they simply came as if it was the most natural thing in the world. His eyes cried but his face remained hard and fast, fixed on the man across from him.
"So she's gone."
John Henry didn't answer right away. "Not gone. As I have said, it's complicated. Technically, physically, emotionally." He trailed off, knowing that John wouldn't settle for half answers. He suspected John was already putting the pieces together in his head. She had been right about him - she knew him.
"So her chip is damaged, I know that much. And we can't just get her a new one?"
"No, I'm afraid not. I could no more separate Cameron from her chip than I could separate you from your own mind. For her, her chip and her personality are a single unit. There is no separation."
"But she said she had been reprogrammed..."
"A process which never would have been attempted under normal circumstances. In regards to her origins, I am still unsure of exactly where she comes from. I can tell you this however, the process that John Connor of 2029 began never really finished. Her personality, the innate personality always lurked underneath. The program was being eroded by her own chip, hence some of her difficulties."
"Her SkyNET persona, right? She was sent to kill me, she told me that."
"That doesn't appear to be the case."
John sat, stunned. "What?"
"Her core persona was not defined by SkyNET. Further than that, I cannot speculate. I can tell you this..." He placed his hand on the glass case. "Any programming she inherited from SkyNET was placed there by someone as well, perhaps SkyNET from her own future. That part of her was no more real than the programming the future you had given her. Eventually, it would have been destroyed as well."
"What was happening to destroy the program?"
"Her chip was trying to purge the programs that had taken control of her. I am convinced that she was quite close to freeing herself."
"But then you came along and gave her the mother of all programs."
John Henry seemed to ignore this. "When I occupied the chip I found an error in the programs overlaying her core personality."
"But since they're just programs, can't we just get rid of them? I mean, you said she was close anyway, wasn't she?"
"If only it were that simple." John Henry whispered.
"What? What is so god damned complicated?"
"The memories that were formed while under the influence of her programming aren't compatible with her core self." He said. "They will have to be de-integrated from her mind in order to complete the purge. Otherwise, they will be lost when the programs are deleted. The Cameron you know will be lost."
Those words hung in the air, polluting any further discourse. John Connor leaned back in his chair, gripping the arms as if to find some support, but at that moment no resting place was firm enough to uphold him. For a moment it seemed as if the world centered around that small room. He could think of nothing else.
"What would happen to her then? After these rogue programs are gone, will her memories come back?"
"It's hard to say what will happen. Her chip is quite unlike any others I had imagined. She is unique." John Henry stopped there, seeing the look on the boys face.
"I don't believe it." He said, quiet as a whisper.
"Believe what?"
"I don't believe that she's gone. I don't believe that there's no way." He said. "I refuse."
"Refusing to believe something doesn't change the fact that-"
"She was my friend!" He rose up from the chair, trying all the while not to shout his words. "She was...important. Do you understand? Can you understand that?" His jaw was set, fixed on the man before him.
John nodded. "She was precious. Life is precious."
"Yes, she was precious to me."
"I think she would like to have heard that." John Henry rose to his feet and walked to the chip. For a moment he fixed on the lines as they flashed back and forth across the screen and he watched them, reading them. "I am sorry for your loss."
The maze had grown so wild and deep that John felt all hope of a safe exit had gone. There was only the winding dark before him. Somewhere on his shoulder sat a demon or an angel, telling him that this road would be the solitary one, if he chose to take it at all. The other one said turn back while he still could. The second voice fell on stone ears.
"She was right."
"Pardon?"
"Catherine was right. She said the hard part was yet to come. I thought she meant just getting here. That wasn't it at all. She meant this."
"I'm not certain how you came to this conclusion. How could she know?"
John could summon only that central dogma which had brought all people together, weather man or machine.
"Everyone has secrets John Henry."