Livin' In The Future

by Ottovw

John Connor is in the future. He came to find Cameron's Chip. He must deal with uncertain and unlikely allies. Cope with unknown, and unforeseen enemies. Fight the War Against The Machine. AND if that wasn't enough he STILL has to save the World.

9. Chapter 9

Livin' In The Future

By Ottovw

2010

Chapter 9

-John

It wasn't a bunk. It was a tent. It was an eight foot by eight foot square tent. It had a central pole. On one side was a cot in front of which was a footlocker, unlocked with his name stenciled across the top. Opposite the cot was a small writing desk with a folding chair. There was even a battery operated desk lamp. On his bed was his AR, someone had cleaned it. Part of him hoped it had been Allison. The tent was dark and stuffy the windows flaps were still down. He wanted to open them first but the footlocker caught his eye. He knelt in front of it. It was made of metal and painted grey. He opened it. He knew it wouldn't be empty. There was an ammunition box in it. He picked it up. It was light his first thought was that it was empty, but something inside slide to the back of the box making a hollow metal sound. He released the catch and opened it. Inside were a sealed manila envelope and a tarnished pocket watch. With his free hand he flailed behind himself for the flap to let in some light. The flap opened of its own accord. His eyes fixed on the watch. How was it here?

"John I know you're tired but I was wondering…." He didn't glance up it was Savannah.

"Can… could you please step out of the light?" He brought his hand back to hold on to the box. He didn't want her to see it shaking. He twisted to let more light in but he already knew. It wasn't just any pocket watch. It was the pocket watch. How had she found it? He'd discarded it after he knew that Cameron hadn't killed Riley. Yet here it was. He set down the box and removed the watch. The chain was gone. Finger prints were corroded into the lid. He pressed the release, nothing happened. He used the edge of his nail to pry open the watch. The hinge was stiff there was corrosion along the edge of the lid. The watch, he decided, had not spent all of the past fifteen years here in the desert. There were the three buttons. A small discolored piece of paper fell out of it and back into the ammunition box.

"John?"

"Just a second," he said as he reached down into the box. It was a tiny scrap of paper folded into quarters. It was brittle some of the edges stuck together, some of folds cracked as he opened it. "The tinman" was written on the first half. On the second half it said: "needed a heart." It was written in pencil, the script was mechanically precise. If his mother had recovered the watch she hadn't been the one to write the note.

"John? What is that?"

"Nothing," he said. He put the two halves of the note back into the watch he had to close it twice for the mechanism to catch. He closed the ammunition box turned to Savannah. "What's up?"

"What did you say to her?"

"I already told you," John rose to his feet. She came to his shoulders.

Savannah gave him a look. Telling him with that look that Marty tried this once and it didn't work for him either. "Not Allison, mom."

"What?"

"She's canceled classes for the day. The kids are ecstatic. She told Allison 'it was all right'." She saw the look on his face. "Oh come on, John! She could barely have eff'd up that op any more if she'd shot you herself."

She's right John thought getting him out it should have been a simple extraction. There were six people in her 'class'. After nearly two years of fighting he could not assume that all of them had survived. He walked passed Savannah.

"John?"

"Who was in Allison's class?" He asked as he walked away. Behind him heard Savannah catch up. Dave was one they had confused Weaver with their 'staged' argument. Dalia? Radice? He had always assumed Tyler, but he was wrong there. May be Jorge? Oh, he remembered, Brandon.

"Allison's class," Savannah echoed. "All that are left are Brandon, and Dalia. I don't want to discount Dave, but from what Allison and my mother say it's likely that we can."

"Huh. Not Jorge?"

Savannah pulled even with him she turned her head sharply at the mention of the name. "No," she said the sound of wonder crept into her voice. "We tried recruiting him when he was younger but he said no."

"Not Radice?"

She blinked. "How," she started to ask, but shook her head. "No," she said after a few steps. "He was from the class ahead of her. He was in my class."

John nodded. Year after year, they had been infiltrating the 130th just to find me, John thought. Then when he shows up things go wrong. But Allison had explained that too: "You're the one who walked in a bunker and told the whole damned world: I'm John Connor." Someone had interfered. Someone had… Martin? No, Martin had been surprised to see him. Kyle? He couldn't believe that. No, someone had used Kyle. During that first run they had visited two bunkers. There had been two messages. One from Derek: "Derek's message said: That you might not understand things that you should. That you might say things; you might know things that you shouldn't."

It was at the second bunker. Which one was that? Foxtrot nine? Kyle was late very late: "There's been a change of plans." But who had changed the plans? John now understood that the he was supposed to go to Headquarters to meet with General Perry. If all had gone as planned John would have been here in less time than it had taken for them to go to Lancaster and back. He stopped, and turned to Savannah.

Savannah stopped. "John?"

"You teach strategy. Who did this?"

"Did what?"

"Who sent me to Lancaster? Who sent me to see Martin?"

"I don't know what you're talking about."

"She hasn't told you?"

"No, the last person she spoke to was Allison."

John felt his face harden. He looked up, there was the cafeteria. "What was that game they were playing?" A panel on the near side of the tent had been rolled up to let in air. They children were clustered around the table again.

Savannah laughed to herself. "It's a game I made up."

"What's it called?"

"Finding you," she laughed again softly, almost barely audible. It's called: 'Finding John Connor.'"

He stared at her.

"Seriously."

He stalked off.

"Do you know where you're going?"

"Of course," he called back over his shoulder. He took the next right turn and stopped dead again. Savannah caught up again. He looked at her from the corner of his eye as she drew up. "All the game pieces were metal."

She nodded.

"They are metal trying to find me?"

"Don't worry John it's not about killing you. It's a game about time. It's about time and space. To win the game you have to be at the right place at the right time."

He waited.

"If a player finds you on a 'black' square, they were a 'bad' cyborg, and you destroy them."

He just stared at her.

"John Connor kills all bad metal," she explained. It was John's turn to laugh.

She ignored the laugh. "If a player finds you on a white square, they were a 'good' cyborg and they win the game."

"When does the game end?"

"That's the hard part. Half of the players have to roll a '20', consecutively." Savannah saw the look on John's face. "My longest game lasted nearly three months. See," she explained. "The position of the pieces are unimportant, just the color of the square. We could only play in our spare time. There was little enough of that." There was a pregnant pause. "Did you really kiss her?"

John looked away from her to his mother's tent. "She kissed me." He walked up to the tent. He brought his hand up to knock but the flap was fabric. There was nothing to knock on. He looked at it for a second uncertain. So he just walked in. His mother was lying on the cot. She was staring at the ceiling, forearm across her brow fist clinched. She didn't notice.

"Mom," he asked from the entrance. She didn't respond. "Mom!"

She sat up and looked at him there was a pistol in her right hand. She set it in her lap. "Don't do that, John." He wondered at the gun, it was a Glock. Was it habit, or was that how it was here? She was looking down at the floor. Like all the tents it had a plank floor. She looked like she was trying to bore a hole through it with her eyes.

"Mom?"

She set the gun down beside her. She stood still looking at the floor. John took one step towards her. The wood creaked. She looked up almost startled, and then she took the rest. She wrapper her arms around him pulled his head down to her shoulder. "John." She wept then. John did too. They'd been apart. But never… never like this.

He held her. She was thin. Painfully thin. "She's lost weigh," Cameron had said. Worry gnawed at his gut, but he had to remind himself that even though for him it had been little more than three weeks. For her it had been nearly fifteen years.

"John," she said again. Her grip was almost bruising. He turned his head and saw the silver in her hair. He could just see the lines running from the edges of her eye. She tensed, he could feel it. She grabbed his shoulders pushed him away from her. He could see the fear then: the fear that lurked there, in her eyes; the fear that she used to buttress up her anger; the fear that she used like a fortress to protect herself and to protect him.

John considered himself pretty smart. He'd met people with more specialized knowledge, but that's always the case. He was always good a noticing things. He was always quick on the uptake. It wasn't conceit it was a simple fact. But still it had taken him years to understand that not everyone lived in fear the way his mother did. The way she seemed to want him to live. There were times that he understood the need, but most times he resented it.

He knew what was next. First came the fear, and then came the anger. He stepped back. She stepped into him. He could see it simmering behind her eyes. Her eyes usually green or a shade of it, darkened always a bad sign. Those darted back and forth searching his face, as if looking for some flaw or something. For some 'thing' he understood. "Is it you John? Is it… is it really you? Not… not one of them?"

"God mom, it's me!"

"Don't use God's name in vain, John."

His mother's hand went to his hair, and tousled it. She smiled at first it was uncertain and fragile, and then it solidified. "Are all of you out there?" Sarah asked still looking John in the eyes, her hand was still in his hair.

"Yes," chorused from the door. John didn't turn but he could imagine a cluster of children gathered around the door behind him. Like him they were her children. They were his armies next generation.

"I want the classroom set up in ten minutes. Allison, and Savannah since the two of you are so bored that you wanna hang out in my doorway you can help them." His mother left him went to the tent flap pulled it open looked outside and let it fall again. He had turned with her. She was looking at the floor again, hands on her hips. She was wearing the bottoms of her BDUs, and a green t-shirt, she looked up at him.

"Cameron?"

"Metal," she said it like a curse word because for her it was. She had seen the worst that 'metal' could do. John wondered if it blinded her to their other attributes. He thought of Savannah and her 'good' cyborgs. Who was wearing blinders? Who was denying a truth no matter painful before their very eyes? John in his life time had known three cyborgs… he wondered did Weaver count as a cyborg? He would have to ask her. He had known three cyborgs they had shown him that 'metal' could save a life as readily as they took them. That they could make sacrifices as readily as they 'sacrificed' others. What did it all mean? He wasn't sure. "She helped, John. She helped so much. She knew things." She walked back to her cot, and sat on the edge. "She told me: that the future had changed; that we needed to prepare for new challenges; that no matter how bleak, no matter how dark, it became we must struggle on; that because of you, John, there was hope." She shook her head. She looked to one of tents corners again. Softly almost to herself, she said: "She told me that, John. And now it looks like in the next fifty years we will either starve or freeze or get nuked again. And now… And now… you're here… and I can't see it. I can't see it John!" She hissed the last. She still wasn't looking at him. She was glaring at the darkened corner of the tent as if something there was pissing her off.

He knelt in front of her his hands folded on her knee. "See what?"

"Hope." She blinked her eyes bright with unshed tears. Tears that John knew were not for her or him but for the people she believes that she has somehow failed: the children who were converting the cafeteria into a classroom; the people of sub Saharan Africa, the people of china presumably slaving under unbearable weight of a coltan heel. She ducked her head, as if not wanting to see what was there. John didn't bother to look. When he was younger he had, but there had never been anything there.

John had no argument he could barely see it himself, but giving up was not something he was used to doing. "How… how had she helped?"

"She convinced Ellison. He went through his contacts at the FBI. They had contacts all over the world. Somehow, he convinced many of them to help." She finally looked at John, her eyes were calm again, a lighter, saner shade of green. "Even Ellison was surprised how easy it had been. It's like some of them knew, John." She shook her head again like she was trying to clear away cobwebs.

She continued. "He even got his ex-wife involved. Her husband, Paul had contacts in Africa. He had convinced them to ride out J-day there. They were the first ones to try the western coast, they went by boat. That was thirteen years ago now John."

She sighed. "That's how we knew. We had people in Australia, India, South America, that's how we knew that the southern hemisphere was largely spared. Some key military facilities but very few major population centers."

John looked down this time. The southern hemisphere, he knew is mostly water. The land masses that are there are largely isolated one from the other. You can't walk from Africa to Australia to South America to Antartica. If you were going to push humanity into a corner this would be a good start.

"John?" He looked up at her. "Have you found her yet?"

"No. Weaver says that John Henry is in Long Beach."

"Long Beach? John… that's… Jesus, John." She looked stricken. "She… Cameron…" She looked away.

"Mom?"

"Ellison and I put Cameron's… body in the trunk of his car." It was like a recitation her voice was empty, devoid of emotion.

She was going to say 'endo'.

"Cameron… John… She… She… destroyed it."

"Wh… Wh… What!" He was at the tents flap before he realized he was even standing.

"John." A hand on his shoulder stopped him and then spun him around. He wouldn't look at her eyes. "John! She said that it had to be destroyed. That it could not be allowed to fall into the wrong hands. John, look at me!"

He did.

"She told us that she didn't need it anymore."

"What does that mean?" He was confused. He was here to retrieve her chip, but what good was it if there wasn't a body to put it in. He came here to find her, and now he has nothing to put her back into. He thought about what he had seen in this future compared to what he had heard from his father's future. Things were better, things were worse. But how was this an improvement? It wasn't and he had done it. He had done it for a girl, who wasn't a girl. And now the reason he had done all of this seemed out of reach.

"John all I can tell you is that she's… She's different." She saw the look on his face. "I can't John. I can't."

He glared at her. Then a tear ran down his cheek. He turned away and put his face in his hands. "Oh God," he heard himself say.

Her hand was on his shoulder again. Angry he twisted his body to tear away from it. She spun him around and took him in her arms. "I'm sorry John. I'm sorry."

He struggled trying to get his breathing under control. He sent her back again. Was he going to find her only to have to watch her leave again? What the hell was he doing here? He raged to himself. What the hell was going on? Was this some kind of game? They stood like that in each other's arms glaring at opposite sides of the tent. Each blaming intangibles: fate, destiny, duty, even love. Shadowy invisible enemies, that lurked in the corners of the tent in the corners of the mind waiting for the first sign of weakness of human frailty. They were raging at things neither of them could see.

"John?"

"I'm fine," he said, though neither of them believed it.

"Come on. It's time to go to class."

All but four of the tables had been folded and stacked. Two were supporting four folded tables each, and remaining two were sitting end to end the children sat along one side. Allison and Savannah were sitting at the ends of the table perpendicular to the children.

Ten feet from the table was a whiteboard on an easel. The children looked at him and then at each other. They didn't say anything. One, the same girl from earlier in the morning, got up and brought an empty chair to the table. They slid their chairs down, leaving space beside a blushing Allison. The girl placed the empty chair in the gap.

John found their unspoken coordination unnerving. He'd heard of twins doing similar things, finishing each other's sentences, even simple tasks but these children were very obviously unrelated.

His mother's lecture was on starting a fire under a variety of conditions. After twenty minutes John felt as bored as the children seemed. John leaned close to Allison. "We never started a fire."

Without turning her head, without acknowledging he even spoke. Allison said, "We never needed to," implying that they might. John felt their stares. Out of the corner of his eye he could see them staring at him. At the far end of the table he could see Savannah gazing at the blank white board with an almost religious intensity. His mother, he realized had stopped talking.

Sarah coughed. "As you know when we have graduates in attendance. We encourage them to give our students an informal After Action Report." She looked at Allison. Who visibly paled.

Allison blinked. John sitting beside her could see her lower lip tremble. She took a deep breath, leaned forward as she pushed her folding chair back, with a loud scraping sound, and clapped John on the knee. As she did this she whispered: "Thanks," into his left ear.

John blinked. He had been with Allison for almost two weeks. He'd held her hand. He'd been kissed by her. He'd eaten more meals with her than he could remember, and he has a very good memory. But in all that time she had never casually touched him. His eyes flicked down at his knee. In the whole time he'd been with her the only time she ever made an unaccounted for noise was at that first breakfast when she dropped her bowl.

There was movement out of the corner of his eye. Allison was halfway to the board she was taking small almost hesitant steps. She had his mother's full attention. Starting with the child closest to Savannah, who was also watching Allison, they flashed him in American Sign Language: B-U-S-T-E-D. If he had turned his head a fraction of an inch farther he would have missed it. If he hadn't glanced down at his knee he would have missed it. If they had started just a fraction of a second sooner or later he would have missed it.

Camouflage, it was all camouflage, from the scrape of the chair on the floor to the clap on the knee to the slow somber walk to the board. John was amazed.

Allison turned and faced them. She thanked his mother. Her mother, John corrected. Their mother, he corrected again. She smiled awkwardly. John noticed that she was looking up over their heads. She cleared her throat.

"This is the informal After Action Report of Allison Young Alfa Company 2nd Squad 130th SOC. Tech-Com." She smiled for real. John saw the smile reflected in the faces of everyone at the table. Allison continued "On 5 August 2025, the subject, Allison Young." She unconsciously gestured to herself.

John remembered that traditionally after action reports were composed in the third person. "Was shadowing Tina Webb and Hunter," at the far end of the table Savannah gasped. Allison noticed and smiled to herself. "A Corporal from Echo Company 1st squad 130th SOC assigned to Alfa Company as their in-field K-9 unit. At," She paused seemed to think and then continued: "approximately 10pm. While on break, from Door Duty, there came reports of lights and sounds from an unused section of the forward observation bunker they were stationed in. Allison, Tina, and Hunter went to investigate. It was at this point that Dave The acquired and secured John Connor and completing mission 1a." There smiles all around the table. "At this point mission 1b was initiated."

His mother stepped forward. "Excuse me, Allison. If you are unaware, Allison Young had two long term high priority missions. The first was finding and securing John Connor. The second was being accepted into 'Tech-Com' eventually becoming a commissioned officer and one of the future leaders of the human resistance. You may continue, Allison."

Allison continued she went onto explain her decision to send Dalia instead of herself with Kyle, Jorge and John; which was because Torres had recommended her for Security an admirable job but not a command path. She further explained that mission 1b once implemented was to escort John Connor to headquarters and from there to the Academy. It was at this point where someone redirected John to Lancaster. The children exchange glances at approximately ten years of age they already know what is in Lancaster.

Sarah interrupted a second time. "A critical mistake was made. What was the mistake and who made it?" All eyes swiveled to Allison. John could understand that, had she gone with them she might have been able to make sure that they continued on their way to headquarters but John still disagreed and shook his head. He wasn't looking at any one in particular he was reviewing the journey in his head. "John disagrees," his mother said. "This is important, so pay attention. Tell us John who made the mistake, and how?"

John still looking at the faux wood grain pattern of his end of the folding table top said: "Allison's leadership made the mistake." This time the eyes swiveled to him.

"How so," Sarah asked John and to the rest of the class: "Listen to this! Someday you will be the officers, leaders, or commanders. You have to listen to this and you have to understand."

"She should not have had two high priority mission goals that conflicted. One goal or the other should have had precedence."

Sarah nodded. "So who blundered?"

John looked up at his mom. "You did."

Sarah nodded again. "Allison you may sit. Our next After Action Report will be delivered by John Connor."

Mechanically he stood. He walked passed Allison who mouthed something to him. He wasn't sure he understood. He was already composing his introduction. He turned around when he reached the board. "This is the informal After Action Report of John Connor 2nd squad, Alfa Company, 130th SOC." Allison mouthed something again. "Tech-com," he said it sounded like a question. Really, he wondered. Then he recalled his father's conversation with him. "I talked to Derek. You're in." That was it? At the time he had failed to understand the importance of that phrase. He was Tech-com. He smiled. Everyone was staring at him. Out the corner of his eye he could see his mother's incredulous look. "Tech-com," he repeated with more confidence. Then he understood what Allison had mouthed at him the first time. "The ridge."

He turned to the board and drew a 'J' lying on its side. The short side of the 'J' angled off towards the south east. He drew one arrow at the open end of the pointing toward the south east, not quite parallel to the 'J'. He added another arrow far to the west it pointed almost due south. He added the letters: a, b, and c: The 'a' was below the long arm of the 'J'. The 'b' was on the curve of the 'J' and the 'c' was on the long arm of the 'J'.

He stood back and looked and finally understood. The hunter's on the ridge, the ones that had surprised them. They hadn't cleverly surmised their intentions to hunt the hunters. They were trying to get to a high vantage point to see if they could spot them down in the valley. The children, the ones he had killed were 'runners'. The hunter hadn't known they true line of march was almost parallel to the ridge. He had thought they were down in the open valley.

"On 21 August, 2025 a demi-squad consisting of a Sergeant, two runners and John Connor, detached from the 130th SOC were operating independently north of the Western Sector. They became aware of a party of hostiles thought to number in the mid teens were pursuing them. The letter 'a' denotes their camp site. Letter 'b' denotes the Sergeant and his runner on a shallower and curved ridge. Letter 'c' denotes John Connor and his runner on the steeper longer ridge."

He turned to the class and described the action. He saw the wonder in their eyes when he told them about the timely arrival of the HK and how fortunate they had been when it circled over them to fire on the hunters. He had known since the 'crater' that it had not been luck. The HK was somehow under Weaver's control. He would have to talk to her about that sometime.

"Excuse me, John." His mother interrupted. "Most of John's 'missions' had only one goal. This is a goal that you need to have no matter what task you are assigned. 'Survival' as young as you are, you need to understand that much has been invested in your development far too much to be simply thrown away over heroics. 'Know your…' "

"Exits," the children chimed.

"John Connor and the sergeant, left something out? What was it?"

"They had not secured their line of retreat," said the little blonde girl.

"Remember that children. Always leave yourself an out. When things start to go wrong you cut your losses and come back home." She paused to let that sink in. "We need to break for lunch."

John watched. Allison and Savannah just got out of their way. Four of the children turned the two tables 90 degrees, and then rearranged the chairs around them. The other four went to the folded tables. Two of them lifted the top table and handed it to the other two who carried it to a specific location and unfolded it. The first four their tables realigned just got in line. Not a word was said. "That's just weird." Savannah to John's left just nodded. Allison watched without comment. John turned to Savannah "I need to speak to your mother."

Savannah turned to Sarah who was standing by the cafeteria's double doors. She nodded without looking away from the children.

"Come on." Savannah lead John followed. They walked away from the other tents after about twenty feet. Savannah said: "Allison and her class were the same. They were the second class like that. The academy has been here for nearly fifteen years John. There have been twelve graduating classes only one of the first six was like that, three of the last six are like that."

"It's increasing?"

"Dr Shelby says that the sample size is much too small to even try to determine a trend but he still finds it fascinating."

"How well do they operate in the field?"

"Very well that is until…"

"Until?"

"They start taking casualties."

"What happens?"

"They come apart. They seize up. When… when they lost Carla the priest pulled them sent them back here. That's why there's a gap between Radice and them. They were here most of a year before they went to the Western Sector."

They stopped in front of the isolated tent. "John inside you will see some obvious security measures. Just… don't do anything stupid." She saw the look on his face. "Please, John, you were the one who thought it would be a good idea to for four people to fight twenty." She parted the flap.

The tent was the same size as his but that was the only similarity. In each corner was a guard, they were armed with plasma rifles. Just off set from the center of the tent to accommodate the pole was an acrylic box. It was four feet by four feet square and eight feet tall. Sitting with her legs crossed at the center of the box was Catherin Weaver. John looked at the box, at the guards, at Savannah. "They'd never get a shot off." John looked at Weaver. "How did you even get in there?"

"John. Savannah." Weaver stood and pointed about seven feet from the floor were a series of holes, they were about an inch and a half in diameter.

"How?"

"I am a liquid John."

"But you went in there voluntarily?"

"Of course," she smiled.

John shook his head not comprehending. "I need to ask… Why did you send me to Lancaster?"

She smiled again. "How did you know?"

"They use runners. There wasn't enough time for the news to get to Tran and back again. It was only my third night here."

"I needed time."

"For what?"

"To prepare John Henry's defenses."

The HK, he thought. No, that's wrong. The HK was used in his defense. Not John Henry's.

"John, we should be going soon. Don't forget what you came here for." Her head turned sharply. "You're mother's coming."

The tent flap was pushed aside briefly lighting the gloomy tent. Sarah didn't even glance at Weaver. "John."

He turned.

"A runner is here," she said.

"A runner from Father Bonilla," John asked?

"No," she shook her head. "From Tran, the runner has a message for you." His mother looked passed him. "You want to come?"

"Sure."

There was a sound. A sound John couldn't understand. It was the sound of several gallons of air being sucked into the acrylic cell, through the small inch and a half diameter holes as Catherine Weaver flowed out of them. John saw his mother's eyes widen. He heard the collective gasps of everyone in the tent who saw it happen. John became aware of a presence behind him, where once had been nothing. Savannah said "mom." From behind him and to his right Weaver replied, "Savannah." What he did understand plainly was that she placed herself as close to him as possible to discourage the guards from firing their weapons.

"Why don't we… um… just head over to the cafeteria," Sarah said in the deepening silence.

At the cafeteria there were only six children playing "Finding John Connor" the other two were sitting in back to back chairs. The Marine captain had a deck of playing cards. He would hand one to former agent Cross and one to former agent Aldrige. They would show one card to one student and one card to the other. Then the students would try to guess the suit of the card their classmate was shown. Their responses were more often than not wrong, but the curious thing John noticed was that they never had to tell the student when to guess. The 'experiment' was being watched over by Dr Shelby who was also keeping score. John seemed drawn to it.

Behind him he heard his mother say: "Where is she Marty?"

Marty answered, "she collapsed, mom. We sent her to the infirmary."

"You!" John could hear her pointing at him. He didn't have to turn around to see it. "Stay here." He nodded.

"Are… are they psychic?"

Savannah snorted. "John, that sounds like something out of science-fiction."

He just stared at her. "We are fighting artificially intelligent robots. You're mother is a…" John turned and looked at Weaver. "Are you a cyborg or not?"

"I am a far better definition of the term cybernetic organism than any of the endoskeleton based cyborgs their organic layer was the only part of them that was 'alive'. Whereas every 'cell' that makes up this body is, though metal, very much alive."

John nodded. He noticed Allison sitting at a table arms crossed over her chest watching the experiment. She looked angry. He reversed one of the chairs and sat beside her. She didn't even spare him a glance.

"They're lying you know," Allison whispered.

"Who?"

"Them." She gestured with her head. "Can't you hear them? Listen, John. Listen to them!"

The student facing him was the little blonde girl. She smiled at him and said: "Spades." John looked at Allison part of him knew she should have said 'hearts'. Aldridge held his card up so that Dr Shelby could see. It was a nine of hearts.

"How did you…"

"Know? John, you're the same as they are. The same as we were."

"What?"

"You could have walked into the bunker and said: 'I'm Abraham Lincoln', and I would have known it was you." Allison seemed to smile to herself. "John you scream. You walk into the room and I can barely hear myself think. You're like a fire alarm: "I'm John Connor!" How do you think the children knew who you were? It's not like we have posters up of you all over the place. It's not as if mom has a framed picture of you on her desk. No, you walked into the cafeteria and told everyone who could hear you who you were."

"Dalia?"

"Dalia is amazing! I wish I was half as good as she is!"

"She was acting?"

Allison nodded. "She's good but she's also very sensitive.-That's what Dr Shelby said. These kids are smarter than we were. We cooperated with them and their tests. They know better-. Being so close to you for that long was probably very aggravating. I noticed that she avoided you when we were at the Delta bunker."

"Do I annoy you?"

Allison laughed. "All the time! –No, I'm kidding. I'm deaf as a post John."

"But you said…"

"That's just how loud you are." John nodded unsure.

The cafeteria door banged open. "John!" His mother took off. John followed her to another tent. He could hear someone coming up behind him. "She insists on talking to you. She's on IV fluids. Williams is pissed that I won't let her sedate her. She needs rest John be quick. She's got a good fever, so she's not all there."

The tent was large, almost as large as the cafeteria. Beds lined the wall only one was occupied. He stood at the foot of the bed. "I'm John Connor," he said though his first thought was 'oh shit'. He looked to his left his mom was at the infirmary doors, behind her was Allison. He caught his mother's eye, glanced at Allison and mouthed: 'out'.

His mother immediately backed Allison away from the door.

The woman was older and the ensuing years hadn't been kind. Living on the streets would do that to you he guessed. Her skin was red from sunburn, her eyes swollen down to slits. Her hair was darker she said: "I thought you'd be older." Her voice was a hoarse whisper. Her comment was a throw-away line, just being a smart ass. Then she leaned forward squinting, John thought, but could barely tell. "I know you," she said, it was more of a question then a statement.

"I know you too." What were the chances John wondered.

She coughed a laugh, and then looked left and then right. "Where's that crazy bitch sister of yours?"

Long Beach, I think. "Around."

"Don't lie to me."

"What?"

"You're not Connor. You're Baum or something."

John could almost see the gears meshing in her head.

"Holy shit. You're that Connor!"

"Yeah, I get that a lot."

"You're a terrorist!"

"We prefer the term 'resistance fighter'."

"Wait, you're supposed to be dead."

"I am?"

"Yeah, you died trying to blow up some computer company."

"I did?"

"There was this big investigation!"

"There was?"

"Yeah, and then… and then… the world ended." She fell back into her cot.

"It did?"

She was talking to the ceiling. "Yeah, some of them called it: 'the Apocalypse', or 'Judgment day'. On the streets we called it 'the Shit'." John could hear the last of the gears grinding away. "What the fuck!" It could have been a cough. "You should be thirty years old!"

"I should," John agreed. "Now what was Tran's message."

The woman shook her head confused. "He wants to meet with you in forty eight hours or he attacks."

"When did you leave?"

"Two days ago."

"So it's already been forty eight hours?"

"Probably."

"Why didn't he send the message to the Priest?"

"He didn't want to talk to the Priest. He wanted to talk to you."

John nodded. He's sending another message too. 'I know where you are.'

"Where am I supposed to meet him?"

"In the buffer zone."

"Where in the buffer zone?"

"He said you'd know it when you saw it."

"John," the nurse touched him lightly on the arm.

"I know. I got what I needed. Thank you." He turned and walked to the door.

"Hey," John turned. "Tell that bitch sister of yours that she still owes me."

"Yeah… yeah, I'll do that." He stepped out of the infirmary. He looked at his mother. "I need to meet Tran."

"When?"

"Now."

His mother turned calling for Marty. Allison looked at him. "She knew you… from… from before."

John glanced at her. "Yes."

"Is that why you kept me out of the room?"

John ignored the question. "Get your stuff. Get my stuff. We're leaving."

"Mom!"

She turned and looked.

"Tran knows. You need to move this camp."

She nodded. "John, you're taking Weaver?"

"Yes."

"Allison?"

"Yes."

She nodded. "Get going John."

He just stood there and stared at her. She turned away to issue more orders. She was sending out runners to bring in the patrols. She glanced over her shoulder and saw him still there. "Go, John." She turned back yelled some more. He watched her look down and away. She rounded on him and hugged him fiercely. He could hear the tears in her voice: "Now go!"

He went.

It was a military hummer the turret mounted a pair of plasma rifles. Weaver was in the front passenger seat next to Marty. There was a gunner in the cab. Allison was sitting next to the gunner, she kept looking at him. John sat in the back. He ignored her and stared out the back of the truck. Ahead of them about a hundred feet was a 'technical' a pick-up truck with a rotary plasma rifle scavenged John guessed from an HK or a Centaur. It was getting towards twilight.

"You need to sleep," she said.

John only nodded, it was nearly 26 hours since either of them had slept. They'd been on the road for three, would be on the road for at least another ten before they got to Lakewood. Their route to the city was extended because of the subsidence. Even then there would be no rest he would have to find where he was supposed to meet with Tran. He looked down at his AR he pulled his backpack into his lap to get his cleaning kit. Inside his pack which was all but empty, they had never made it back to their cache was his father's rolled up coat. He pulled that out beneath it was the sealed manila envelope. Simultaneously something fell with a thump into the bed of the hummer. It was the watch. He looked up at Allison.

"You forgot those."

John again nodded he put the watch in his breast pocket. He looked at the envelope it was small three by five. It was stiff. He was tempted to open it but he knew what it was. He shoved it into his other breast pocket. He pulled out his cleaning kit and broke his rifle down.

By the time they got to Lakewood John really wished he had the coffee at breakfast. They bypassed the bunker another pair of 'technicals' were escorting them now. Two up front one to their rear. The gunner was up in the turret, it was a motorized turret it hummed as the gunner turned it. Roberto had taken the gunner's seat and was talking. John just stared out the back of the hummer.

They had moved a third brigade up into the buffer zone. They defended a continuous line from the 'front' in a very shallow 'c' that curved around the Lakewood bunker. At the far right of the 'c' and perpendicular to it were two battalions of the 130th and 125th remnants the rest it were one over sized scratch battalion made up of almost 5 combat companies were harassing Tran and Bell's flank and rear areas. Kyle and Radice had done well they had managed to save more than half of the two shattered brigades.

Tran was to their west. His brigade the 143rd sat directly opposite 2nd divisions 201st the three brigade defensive line stretched far beyond either side of the 143rd's.

"Does he have patrols out?" It was the first thing John had said in more 5 hours. Roberto was so surprised it brought his report to a halt. Allison started in her seat.

"Y…yes, but not in the buffer zone.

"You think he's trying not to provoke a fight?"

"Yes."

John just nodded, but he didn't agree. "Do we have patrols out?"

There was a pause. "Sort of."

"What do you mean?" John spoke softly he seemed to be more interested in the swirling dust behind them. In another time his subordinates had learned dread this mood.

"We have patrols in the buffer zone."

"But nothing beyond it?"

"Munoz has patrols as far out as Golf 8."

"Munoz?"

"He was the highest ranking officer we could find from the combined 125th/130th. He's a security Captain we've temporarily elevated him to Major."

"Security?"

"He had combat experience, but lost an arm, and so was relegated to 'security'."

John nodded. That's to our north and west. Are there any patrols to our due west?"

"No, but there is no need."

John finally turned his head and looked at Roberto. Allison flinched as his gazed swept passed her. She had never seen anyone so coldly angry in her life. "No need?"

Roberto didn't notice. "The 'front' is secure."

John sighed. "Get patrols out beyond the buffer zone north of the 'front'. We need t know what's going on north of there. We need eyes as far out as 'India'," he said referring to their maps. "'Hotel' would be better, but 'India' will work. Send them out. Send them out now."

"How do I do that?"

"Tell them." John nodded to the truck behind them.

Allison tapped Marty on the shoulder the convoy slowed to a stop. Roberto got out talked to the driver. John watched. Roberto's gesticulations the movements were of someone explaining to someone else that they were being told to do something unnecessary and that they were just humoring their 'betters'. John was tempted to leave him. Roberto got back into the hummer his smile was broad as if he had accomplished some great feat. John wanted to erase it. "Done," Roberto said. "The patrols will be out in an hour or so." The truck behind them backed up and turned off to their left heading down the length of the buffer zone.

The tiny convoy began to move again. John took a deep breath and stared out the back again. He understood that they were worried about Tran. Tran was directly to their front but Tran wasn't the enemy. Well, if he was he wasn't their only enemy.

Jody had been right, their headquarters were obvious. A barricade of lumpy sandbags surrounded most of the city block. The barricade was tall almost reaching to the second floor of the buildings they surrounded. John guessed that they were lumpy because they weren't filled with sand but with debris. He also guessed that on the back side of the wall was a fire step. He was impressed all this in roughly 72 hours. Tran's people were certainly good. They had already been stopped once at 500 meters and now again at 100 meters. Marty had done all the talking all he said was "John Connor."

It was sunset when they stopped. It was a brick faced building at least two stories portions of the second floor were gone. John couldn't tell if that had been the results of J-day, a post J-day quake, or barricade construction. Allison touched him on the shoulder. John nodded and climbed out of the back of the hummer. He left his AR and his sidearm and waited for the others. The shells of buildings around them were dotted with snipers. At either side of the building's entrance were light machine guns. Separate from the barricade was a mortar pit, it too was heavily debris bagged. John noted that of the three mortars two were aimed west. The machine guns and the mortars were covered with camouflage netting. He looked up at the pastel colored sky.

Allison stepped up beside him "a lot of snipers."

John nodded. "He's trying to impress us."

"He hasn't impressed me", she said.

John glanced at her. He noticed that even though she was beside him, she was watching behind him. He smiled to himself.

"They couldn't know what time we were arriving."

John nodded his agreement.

"Not impressed."

John looked at her. Her eyes flicked to his then back to the buildings behind him.

"Those snipers have been out all day. In the full sun, an HK could have wiped them all out."

John nodded again. "I'm sure he has RPGs to back them up."

This time Allison nodded. "Right," she said her voice heavy with sarcasm. "Risk even more people. Not impressed," she repeated.

John nodded to the logic of her argument and then led them as they approached the entrance a young man sitting on the bags beside one of the machine guns stood. He looked them all over. Turned to Roberto, the eldest of them and said: "John Connor?" Roberto nodded towards John. The young man turned past John and looked at Marty. "John…"

John directly in front of the man cut him off: "I'm John Connor."

The man smiled a big toothy smile as if this were a joke. He glanced at John's party and understood that no one else was grinning. He reigned in his smile. "The General wonders if you would like to postpone your meeting until tomorrow morning. You must be tired…"

"No," John said. "We'll see the General now."

The man nodded, turned and led them into the building. It was dimly lit and filled with soldiers. They eyed them as they walked passed. His security detail, thought John. They looked grim and hard. As tough looking as any troops he saw in the 130th. The thought cheered him.

They snaked passed some boxed supplies and the open back door he saw another mortar pit the crew sleeping in and around it. They climbed a set of stairs and back into the pink glow of sunset.

The man gestured them to wait at the stairs. John glanced around. The walls were uniformly shoulder high. They had pulled them down. They had also pulled down the building's interior walls making the floor a single massive room. More camouflage netting covered the open ceiling. In one corner were a cluster of runners, John guessed. They were all young and small. In another corner were about a dozen more most were sleeping these were all armed. In the far corner where the young man went was the only furniture on the floor a table. There was a cluster of people standing around it talking they were debating, John could tell, their movements quick and angry. The young man waited at the edge of the cloud.

Directly in front of John was a young girl. She was armed as was her companion. She was staring at him, almost daring him to make eye contact. John stepped around her to make room for the others. She stepped in front of him. She looked him up and down. She was trying to intimidate him. John thought about what she saw his new BDUs, his mostly new boot, that fact that he was unarmed. He met her eye and said "I'm John Connor". He said it loud enough for everyone on the floor to hear.

Across the way he saw a tall thin Asian man glance towards him. He looked to the young man who was still trying to get his attention. The girl her eyes wide stepped back. Behind her the soldiers were kicking they're sleeping comrades awake. To John's left the runners were staring. Weaver was standing close beside him to his left. He hadn't noticed her.

He watched her out of the corner of his eye. "Can you clear this room?"

"Certainly, but most of their snipers are out of my range."

John nodded. He glanced to his left and saw Allison. "Marty and Roberto stay with the stairs. You and Weaver are with me."

Allison nodded.

The young man was back he was smiling with embarrassment. "The General will see you now." Across the building the cloud of officers dispersed they gravitated towards the walls not leaving just stepping away from the General and his table.. John with Allison and Weaver in tow walked towards it. The man turned and stopped. "Alone," he added.

John just walked around him Allison and Weaver followed. The young man hurried to arrive at the table ahead of them and introduced them. "General Tran Duc Michael." The man turned and extended his hand. John shook it. "General John Connor and… company."

"General Connor." The tall thin man said.

"General Michael." John replied.

Tran smiled and dismissed the young man with a wave. "Very good!" His eyes glanced to the wall where the young man stood. "Some people's ideas linger in the past." Then back to John. "Before the war I was Michael Tran, now as a General I am Tran Duc Michael. To be honest I tend to respond much faster to my anglicized name." There was only the slightest pause. "I expected you to be… older."

John could only shrug. "I get that a lot."

Tran continued, "if you wish to be formal I could address you as General Conner and could address me as General Tran, otherwise Michael will do."

"John," John replied. He decided that telling Tran he had only been accepted into 'tech-com' a little more than a week ago would be counterproductive.

Tran gestured to the paper on the table. It was a map John had never seen it before but he recognized it. It was downtown. Tran flipped the map over. John noticed it was the same heavy paper they used at the Academy. This was also a map John was unfamiliar with but he could guess. It was a map of the buffer zone. Along the edge closest to John were circles on ill defined street corners and road ways. Tran looked down at the map and swept his hand across it. "We have scouted nearly thirty strong points in your line. My mortars are targeted and loaded with a single command I could knock out your defenses leaving your troops unprotected and leaderless."

John shook his head. "But you won't." Tran looked up at John. "See, there are only three reasons we are having this conversation: one," he lifted up the piece of paper on the edge of the table. "You read one of the pamphlets and agree." He let it fall. The piece of paper fluttered down missed the table and end up on the floor. John looked at all the men who lined the walls, none moved to rescue it. He looked at Tran again. "Two, your supply situation is far worse than expected. In which case I need only wait for the smelling of roasting chickens to waft across the line and accept the surrender of your troops." John didn't wait for a response he flipped the map back over. "Three," he tapped the far side of the map closest to Tran north and west of downtown. "They are coming. They are coming," John repeated "and you need us. For two weeks there was nothing from the metal. So you moved. Thinking it was your chance, and now you're out in the open. Moving through bunkers stripped of people and supplies and you need me."

Trans smiled looked away to the shortened walls. "How old are you?" He seemed to ask them. He didn't wait for an answer. "Sixteen? Seventeen? You've been trying to kill me since you were… What? Eight?" He finally looked at John. "Why?"

"You were a threat," Allison's unsolicited response came from behind John. Tran's eyes shifted from John to Allison and back again.

"I saw what you did to Martin. He was my friend."

"Then you know what he did to my friends." He gestured over his shoulder towards downtown. "Dozens of them are out there." John saw a distance in his eyes that bothered him, not understanding that a similar distance resided in his own. "Some of them have shallow graves most just rotted in the streets where they fell."

Bleached skulls John thought. "We wanted you to fight for us."

"I know." Both men were looking down at the map as if the answers to their questions could be found there.

John looked at Tran. "We have a common enemy." He thought about Weaver not five behind him and smiled. "We can settle our differences later."

"Right," Tran smiled back. John found his smile as disturbing as Weaver's.

John gestured to the detail map of Downtown. "Parks?"

"Yes. He's falling back through downtown. There are bunkers there that he will try to hold."

"What do you want me to do?"

"You tell me. You're the Leader of Mankind."

John chose to ignore the sarcasm. "Do we know where Skynet's forces are?"

Tran drew a circle around downtown encompassing the entire map. "He's reported contacts with hostiles along his entire front. What you can do right now to help is get that monkey off our backs."

"Monkey?"

Tran laughed. "Not sure who he is but he's good." He looked at John. "The supply situation is tight." There was a polite cough from one of the walls. "Ignore that. But whoever you've got in our backfield is making it much harder."

"I can do that." John called over his shoulder "Roberto!"

"Sir?"

"Get a runner out to the 125th/130th they are to cease operations against the 143rd and the 117th." John pulled the copy of the map up in his head. "I want them up in Golf and Echo north of downtown I want them harassing metal."

Roberto blinked at John. "I don't have a…"

John was looking at Tran again. "Then get one." He added over his shoulder, "not Allison and send a handful back here!" John could hear the scrap of boots on the wood floor and then the rumble down the stairs as Roberto descended them in a rush.

"John? Marty is fidgeting." Allison said from behind him.

Crap. He was tired too many things were happening at once. He was forgetting things without turning he replied. "Oh. Right. Send him home, tell him to keep mom safe. Thank you Marty." He called over his shoulder. He tapped the map. "Do you want to move up and support Parks here?"

"Ok."

"Bring some 125th/130th troops up on Parks' right. You on his left. One of eastern sector brigades on your left a second behind it supporting it."

"Got us in the front and the middle again," Tran smirked at him.

"You're good there."

"That third brigade?"

"Leave it on this line here just in case." They discussed their troop movements and supply concerns for another three hours. During that time a half dozen eastern sector runners arrived four were dispatched John kept two with him.

They parted. Tran caught John's eye. "If all goes well we'll settle our differences after the battle."

"If it doesn't go well?"

Tran laughed, it was a grim laugh. "Then we'll have settle our differences in hell!"

They climbed into the truck. They insisted that John ride in the cab. He looked at the driver, "downtown." He looked at Allison. "What do you we have west of downtown, along Golf?"

"Nothing that's 'indian territory' even downtown is mostly observation posts for laying ambushes, gathering intel and spotting for artillery."

Great troops that gained whatever experience they might have from fighting behind walls were going to be out in the open. "What's the terrain like there?"

"A lot of open areas metal like open ground. Some rubble very little in the way of human buildings they tried to build some factories there but we torch a most of those."

John nodded he looked at Weaver. "What do you have in the field?"

She cocked an eye brow looked at the other passengers in the trucks bed and then decided that if John wasn't worried then why should she. "I have 143 elements, of which perhaps 60 are combat capable."

"So I can't expect too much help."

"No."

"Where is he?"

"My resources are scatters some are immobile or nearly so." John thought about the rat. How fast could it move? How far could it go? Does it ever get tired? What kind of fuel supply does it have? He looked at Weaver. What kind of fuel supply does she have?

Catherine leaned forward towards the cab. "My assets in and around Long Beach suggest that the area is free of Skynet influence. Understand John that much of the data that I receive is audio only but there is weapon discharges, primary and secondary explosions in and around the areas north of downtown. Points east of there, such as the Delta Seven bunker seem quiet. Like your eastern sector friends I have only a few resources between downtown and the sea."

"What combat capable units do you have?"

Without hesitation without acknowledging how potentially damaging this information could be Weaver told him. "I have two HKs, a single Centaur, a damaged Ogre, and 47 endos of a variety of models."

John's eyes must have bugged. "How?"

"The same way you did. I reprogrammed them. Understand John that the total number of those units is limited. John Henry lacks the manufacturing capabilities of Skynet, and since I have been in your company I have been unable to add more units. Attrition hurts us. I cannot both protect you and capture units. A week ago we had another HK, another Ogre and another half dozen endos." Her eyes flicked to a very attentive Allison. "My primary mission is to keep John Henry safe to that end I have captured Skynet assets and turned them against him. My secondary mission is to see you safely to John Henry. The creation of a Skynet free area furthers that end. Keeping Skynet off balance keeps you safe but it is not my mission to win this war. That, if it is at all possible, lies entirely with you."

It was 3am when they found a 'bunker'. John hadn't slept in roughly 58 hours. It would have been Golf Seven, if it had rated a designation. They parked the truck so that the only thing visible was the twin plasma rifles. The driver, the gunner and the two remaining runners stayed with it. John climbed out of the cab and threw his pack over one shoulder. The bunker was small its primary purpose was to observe Metal. Allison banged on the door it was a specific series of bangs three quick, a pause and two slow. It was a runner knock, John guessed. The door banged back, and opened. The man at the door carried an AK. He looked at Allison, John and Catherine. He was expecting one person, not three. "Who the fuck are you?"

"I'm John Connor."

"Who?"

John looked at Allison. "I get that too."

She just looked at him puzzled.

"Who is your commanding officer?" John said with more authority than you would expect from a 16 year old who hadn't slept in more than two days.

"Captain Fitzgerald."

"I need to speak to him." John moved forward to step passed the man.

The man short and barrel chested brought his weapon across his chest bodily barring the door. "Captain," he called over his shoulder.

"What's the message?" A voice called out.

"There's a John Connor here to see you sir."

There was a pause and then a startled "oh. Show him in Sergeant." The man stepped aside he was eyeing John. The Sergeant was warning him that if any harm came to his captain it would be entirely his fault. John thought that he was probably right.

The Captain was standing at a narrow slit in the wall he was looking over his shoulder at John hanging from his neck were a pair of binoculars. "We got a runner in from the west." He put emphasis on the word west implying that as far as he had known his command had been the west. "The message said to keep an eye out for you." He sounded pleased that he was no longer the flank. "But I still don't know who you are." The man blinked. "Sorry," he stuck out his hand. "Captain Fitzgerald Bravo Company, of the 143rd."

John shook his hand. "John Connor Alpha Company 130th."

"No rank?"

"I'm just an observer Captain. What have you got? What have you seen?"

The man nodded. "We've been in this position for three hours. It's not much of a position. I've got trenches dug along our front." He looked at John. "I thought we were the end of the line. I've got my three platoons spread out two to the right towards Charlie Company. I've got one platoon to our left towards an element of the 230th." He looked back out bunker.

"Where's your forth platoon?" John asked as he dropped his pack at his feet. They might be here a while.

"Behind us."

"We never saw them."

The captain looked through his binoculars he smiled. "Good. You're not supposed to."

"Where are you heavy weapons?"

"I've got two mortars behind us and a pair of .50 cals."

"No plasma rifles?"

"No." He sounded disappointed.

"I've got a pair mounted on my truck. We can give you some close up support."

The captain smiled and seemed, for the first time, pleased by John' intrusion. "Thank you."

"The plasma rifle for all the damage it can do is limited."

John just looked at the man.

He glanced at John, "it's a line of sight weapon. It can't do indirect fire. To increase its range you have to elevate it and in this terrain that just makes you a target." He returned his attention to the view.

John could only nod. "Anything," he asked. Terror weapons not weapons of war, his mother had said.

"Nothing some rumbling off to our east, but it seems likely that we are going to miss this dance."

John didn't think so he looked out: to his right were the shattered and torn towers of downtown; in front of him was a blasted ruin may be a thousand feet away was a road somehow clear of debris. He saw movement fifteen feet in front of him and realized he was looking at resistance fighters. They were still quietly stacking debris in front of themselves. "Do you have patrols out?"

The man scoffed. "I've got two squads out in front of us."

John nodded. "How does he fight?" He saw the Fitzgerald pull the binoculars away from his eyes there was a question forming on his face. "The metal I mean." John clarified.

He let the binoculars fall to his chest. "Usually he sends his Aerial HKs in first trying to flush us out and then some endos to protect and screen the centaurs or the ogres." He stopped and thought. "Skynet doesn't understand artillery very rarely do they use their mortars to soften up a position before they attack."

John thought about that for ten minutes and then fifteen more. John looked up.

There was a whine and a hum soft but insistent and then 500 feet to their front an HK cleared the edge of a tall building. Its spotlight was off. It was 40 feet in the air apparently trying to use the buildings as cover. It was low enough that the wash from its engines created a dust cloud beneath it.

"There you are." The captain said to himself. The HK turned on its axis first away from them then back towards them. Even at this distance John could see its strange articulated almost fluke like tail, it turned again facing towards the west. Its engine's angled back to give it more speed. It looked like it was going to continue on parallel to their trench. There was a coughing sound and a hiss followed by two more. "Dammit," the captain cursed under his breath. "Trigger happy bastards." The HK paused then abruptly turned towards them. He could see the belly mounted plasma turret swivel too late. Three explosions walked across the machine. The first was direct hit on the near side engine pod. The second struck the hull between the two stubby wings and the third took off its nose. It shuddered in the air and then seemed to inflate like a balloon a fireball lit the landscape. John turned away too late to save his night vision. The remaining engine spun the shattered hull down into the rubble. The first engine struck the ground and its own torque spun it into a nearby building that shook with the impact.

"Now come the endos?"

"May be it might have just out scouting."

Again John didn't think so and then he saw figures running toward them. "One of your patrols?"

Fitzgerald peered through his binoculars.

John bent, his pack was at his feet he picked it up surprised that it was so light. Then he remembered that his binoculars were buried in a cache in the desert. Something thumped into the wall by his head. Something bright lit the tiny bunker then banged against the far wall. There was a popping sound and a hot wet liquid splashed across John's back soaking him. There was another bang behind him and a startled sound. The wall ahead of him thumped again.

The world went black. He could still hear so he knew he wasn't dead. Not yet anyway but he couldn't see a thick sticky liquid had run into his eyes. It was almost scalding. He stayed down they were under fire he knew better than to stand up. He leaned back into a crouch and tried scooping the viscous fluid out of his eyes. Something slid off his back and hit the ground behind him with the sound of a wet mop head hitting the floor.

"Are you all right, John?" It was Allison a hand touched his back and recoiled. "Jesus," she said. He could hear the rustle of fabric as she crossed herself. "Let me help."

The door banged. 'Bang-bang. Bang. Bangbangbang." Someone banged back. John thought it sounded like the runner code. A soft fabric was wiping at his face. John could open his eyes, it was Allison. "Stay low. We need to get out of here." She lead him by the hand him towards the door in his other hand was his pack.

They had to step over the captain. His arms were stretched out wide like an obscene crucifix. His ribs had burst apart at the sternum and John could see no internal organs. That was when John realized that his legs were still at the front of the bunker three steps away. The bunker door opened and ground to a stop wedged against something. It was the sergeant a grapefruit sized lump of concrete and iron was pressed deep into his face. It looked comical John had to stifle the urge to laugh. He was going into shock. He took a deep breath his mouth and nose filled with the smell of roasting meat. He wanted to gag.

There was a face in the partly open door the man looked confused. "Who are you?"

"Captain John Connor 130th I'm part of Munoz's staff." With the exception of Weaver they were all crouched low.

"Lieutenant Kassar, sir." He grunted as he pushed in on the door. "Aren't you…"

"Young," John finished for him as they stepped into night chill.

"I was going to say uncomfortable." The man reached out and brushed a loop of what must have been part of an intestine off of John's shoulder.

"Oh." He forced a smile.

"Get rid of that John." John stripped off the sticky BDU top. He let it fall to the dusty ground behind the bunker he stepped away from it. The cold air attacked the back of his shirt, it was wet. He tore that off he remembered he had a clean one in his pack. He put that on and then his father's coat.

He looked at the lieutenant behind them he could hear the metallic hiss of plasma rifles. He remembered Fitzgerald say they didn't have any. "Get that .50 cal going!"

The man turned to run. The gunner on the truck opened up. The glare lit up the back of the bunker. John could read the graffiti. A line of tracers streaked over their heads followed by the belated "krump krump krump krump" sound of the weapon firing.

He turned back to John he opened his mouth. John interrupted him: "What's going on out there?" He yelled his ears were still ringing.

"A half dozen endos and a centaur. The endos were right on top of the tank, sir. By the time we saw them the tank had taken out the bunker." There was a thump that John felt in his chest a plume of dust rose up higher than the top of the bunker. John went to circle the side of the bunker. Allison went to stop him.

"I need to see what's happening." He remembered the binoculars. John looked at the bunker it shuddered. He could hear the strange sliding metal sound. Lights flashed inside it escaping around the edges of the door which rang with the blasts. The roof sagged at its middle bending the door almost double as it collapsed. A plasma bolt seared into the night over their heads. They were all looking up. John stepped around them and ran for the trench. He wasn't even carrying his sidearm.

He dropped into the trench. The chunks of concrete and scraps of metal dug into his knees. He peered over the edge. One endo was down something was wrong with its legs, it was trying to drag itself across the road towards them. The centaur had lost its left tread it was at an angle to the trench, its starboard cannon could not be brought to bear on them. This did not affect its port side multi barrel plasma cannon which ripped a stream of plasma into the night sky.

Four mortar rounds banged along the road. They sent the damaged endo skidding into the side of the Centaur. Sheared the Centaur's remaining tread and tossed another endo back off the road and down an unseen embankment. John looked at the road it was hardly marked by the mortar rounds. "That's not asphalt."

A hand dragged him below the skyline. "No," said Allison. "It's some sort of ceramic." To John's right he saw a man with an RPG rise up to shoot. He exploded. His rocket cut diagonally across their front and blew the legs off of a second endo. It had been a lucky shot. As he watched another fighter picked up the rocket launcher and wiped off the gore. She reloaded the weapon. Another soldier tapped her on the shoulder and waved her down the trench towards them.

The soldier ran passed in a crouch her face grim. The three intact endos retreated to the road creating a perimeter around the disabled Centaur. The forth endo climbed back onto the road. Little troubled by its near miss with the mortar. They continued to fire. For John this could only mean one thing. "Get the lieutenant." Allison took off.

John watched as the legless endo crawled back to the others. Plumes of dust shot up into the air some nearly as tall as the Centaur. It took John a moment to figure out it was taking fire from the .50. It was like watching someone using a garden hose. The shots fell sporadically until they found their mark and then the rounds hammered the metal into the dust with a crack the endos' plasma rifle failed the bang that followed rattled their trench.

The lieutenant landed beside him. "What do you need sir?"

"You need to gather your Company and fall back."

"I can't sir. Our orders are to hold this position."

"Do you see that out there? Do you see what they are doing?"

He glanced over the side. "They are protecting that Centaur."

"Why?"

"Because we are trying to destroy it?"

John almost laughed. "They are going to try and recover it."

"I understand that sir."

"That means more of them are coming."

"I understand that sir. But my orders are to hold this position."

"Lieutenant do you understand that this position is untenable?"

"That may be sir, but I'm going to hold it."

John looked at Allison who replied with the barest shake of her head. "Move the technical to the right side of the bunker and have it fire on that Centaur." She looked at him. She's going to refuse, John thought. She seemed to think about it, but then she turned and ran back to the truck. He turned to the lieutenant, "bring your 4th platoon down here. We are going to need them."

John looked to his right at the soldier with the RPG. "Sergeant!"

The man looked up and pointed at his chest. "Me sir?" The soldier yelled back. They were about 50 feet apart.

"Yeah," John yelled back.

"I'm not a Sergeant."

"Kill that Centaur and you will be. Where is that third RPG?" The soldier gestured passed him farther to the right. "Fine, like that HK kill. All of you hit it. Do whatever you need to do just get it done."

John ran in a crouch around the shattered bunker. The lieutenant, Allison and Weaver were there. "I just sent a runner to get the platoon."

John nodded to the lieutenant. "I'm going to need a squad when they get here."

"To do what?"

"To save your lives." There was the same coughing and hissing sound. John looked up startled. "That was quick." There were three loud pops, then a bang, that rocked the technical. The gunner had grabbed hold of the side of the truck for support.

"Holy shit," Allison crossed herself again.

"What squad is at the front of the bunker?"

"Second." Kassar said automatically.

"I need them," he left before the lieutenant could respond. He ran around the side of the bunker. "Second squad!" He circled his finger over his head. They came to him. John was amazed at their discipline. He looked at the soldier with the RPG tube. "Sergeant" the man grinned. "We need those plasma rifles. We've got something under a minute." They looked at him like he was crazy. "Let's go!"

John vaulted the trench wall and ran. His gut twisted with fear that he was the only one running. The damaged endo was still moving crawling toward the wreckage it was dragging its plasma rifle with it. A pair of plasma bolts ripped over John's head instinctively he ducked his head. The first cut the endos arm off. The second sent it skidding across the road and down the embankment. That plasma rifle was maybe six hundred feet away. He wasn't even half way to there. He yelled over his shoulder "Whoever gets to the first rifle," he took a labored breath. "Start taking head shots!" He could hear them then, their feet pounding behind him. His heart soared they had followed him!

He wasn't at his best. He was already starting to slow down. Exhaustion he thought, it must be close to sixty hours since he last slept.

He was flagging. Someone sprinted passed him on the left, they were going for the nearest rifle. He bore to the right for the second one. Out of the corner of his eye he saw that it was Allison. She scooped up the rifle, brought it up and fired never breaking stride. The bolt smashed and obliterated the skull of the endo that he was running towards. John loved her then. He was a hundred feet from the road. He picked up the rifle and slid to a stop. He dropped to one knee and aimed at the endo to his left. He tried controlling his breathing. He fired. Hit the prone endo in the shoulder it slid away from its plasma rifle giving whoever got it an extra 30 feet. He turned to his right an endo was rising to its knees. He fired, the gun rocked as it reset and he hit endo in the chest another bolt took the top of its head off. Then the 'Sergeant' was their picking up that rifle and aiming towards his left he fired. John looked, the RPG girl had that rifle the endo that John had shot was reaching for her, but the back of its head was a molten mass. About a hundred feet to John's right two troopers were struggling with the last rifle. One went down John could see the silver fist protruding from its back. The survivor jumped out of reach and killed the endo with its own weapon. "Fall back," he called out. He was grinning they had them all five rifles.

He took a step back and saw something on the road. "Allison?"

"Yes," she said from behind him.

"Will that thing still work?" He pointed at the object.

"I don't know."

"Sergeant!" The man looked at him. John gestured with his head pointed with his plasma rifle. The Centaur was still burning the heat from it was intense. John handed his rifle to the 'Sergeant'. He grabbed the object by one of its barrels and hissed it was still hot. He circled it and grabbed a part of its mount and dragged it away from the tank. It weighed more than a hundred pounds.

"Hey," John heard the Sergeant say. "Give him a hand." Two other soldiers were beside him "Be careful those barrels are still hot." They drug the cannon back to the trench.

"How does it work," John asked.

"Don't know. I'm not a techie." Kassar replied.

Allison was staring down at it. To John it was an ugly mess, the housing was cracked and a tangle of wires and conduits protrude from the top of it.

She looked at John. "Ms Weaver?" Weaver was there. She looked down at the weapon. "Does it still work," Allison asked.

Weaver reached out and touched it. "I don't know." She was giving Allison a look. "I'm going to need some tools."

Allison nodded. "There should be a toolbox in the back of the truck." The two of them lifted the cannon with a grunt and carried it back behind the bunker.

John handed his rifle to another soldier. To the lieutenant he said: "I want 2nd squad in that building." It was the one that had screened the HK earlier.

Kassar looked at it. "They'll be isolated."

John nodded "but they can enfilade this field."

"You still think they are coming?"

"I know it."

"But why, that Centaur is dead."

John shook his head, "The Centaur was incidental." He gestured to the bunker. "This position is strategically insignificant." He looked at the road a half a dozen or more mortar rounds had not so much as dented it. He turned back to the lieutenant. "What's important is your command. They are coming to kill you and your command."

"But why? It doesn't make sense?"

"No it doesn't make sense, but it's what they do. It's all they do."

Kassar just stared at him.

"Get your defense's ready. If they can get it to work mount that cannon just below the bunker. Get your mortar crews targeting the embankment just beyond the road same with the .50 cal. I want to hit them before they can hit us. I'm going to take a nap."