Disclaimer: This is another attempt at showing the atmosphere and feel of the future from which Jesse and Cameron hail out in the show, the one in which John Connor is widely perceived as a distant leader who trusts machines more than humans, with Cameron his closest confidant. It is best to read this one after my another snippets, "A cyborg's memory" and "Tin morning". This snippet illuminates a subset of Resistance economy which is not often explored in movies or show, and for me it is an experiment with a different mood than my other ones. Feedback still welcome.
Now, onto the text:
Derek Reese looked into a scope of his sniper rifle and carefully assessed the surroundings. He and his squad came here, to unremarkable rubble in what some decades ago was L.A., for an exchange with another Resistance group. Food from their side, "something interesting" (like his contact said) from another. Derek did find the vagueness a little strange, but the contact was pretty excited, swore that it was a very good deal, and he didn't let him down before, so after a moment of hesitation Derek agreed. Still, you can never be too careful, especially considering where they were and when – the deal was supposed to go shortly before the sunrise, quite the dangerous time, when all normal people scrambled for the shelters before the machines rose. They couldn't wait for the other group too long, and an ambush here would be devastating for them.
Derek moved his head to a side and inspected his troops; all in position, all ready and waiting. He heard a sound from the other side and immediately shifted his attention to it, as did the others. He saw what looked like a bald black guy advancing cautiously from behind a rubble that was on the opposite side of the street from them. He noticed Derek, raised his hand and waived to him. He fit the description of the one Derek was supposed to be meeting, but it never hurt to be careful. Derek nodded, but didn't move. He raised one hand so that the guy would see and gestured to him, keeping all his fingers except the thumb on one side and his thumb on the other side, bringing both sides towards each other and then away, imitating the dog barking. The guy nodded and gave an order to someone behind him; forward came a dog, quite ordinary looking, whom the baldy petted and then let it sniff his hand, which the dog licked. He then looked back at Derek and repeated Derek's gesture. Derek shook his head, gave a signal to his squad and carefully came forward, lowering his weapon and approaching the dog, feeling the guns of baldy's squad pointed at his chest. The canine growled at an unfamiliar person, but didn't barked like she did when she sensed walking metal, and when Derek carefully put his hand forward she inspected it with an apparent disinterest.
Both groups having determined that the other side was human, the tension dropped considerably and the rest of the squads came forward to their leaders. The bald one extended him his hand: "I'm Harris."
"Derek," Reese shook his hand, "You got the goods?"
"Yeah, it's all here." Harris gave an order to his team and they brought forth a travel bag and carefully set it on the pavement.
"What is it?" Derek asked, doubt stirring in his mind. The bag obviously couldn't hold enough weapons or armament or supplies to make the exchange worthwhile. Either they were being screwed here, or whatever was in it was pretty valuable despite the small volume, and Derek was determined to know what it was. If his squad was going to carry some new kind of explosives or top intel plans or some kind of biological container to the Bunker, they all needed to know. I don't like it.
"Something for the Iron Lily," Harris patted the bag, "A present."
"A present." Derek repeated, coldness growing inside of him. "What kind of present?" In his experience, everything connected to the one referred to as "the Iron Lily" (more commonly known as General Cameron) was scary and possibly dangerous, and he saw no reasons why presents to her wouldn't be as well.
"We lucked out some time ago and found an unlooted Kiki de Montparnasse boutique; about thirty sets in total, all clean. That should last you a while." Harris explained.
"Thirty sets of what?" the name didn't mean anything to Derek, but if it was for Cameron, it was sure to be something bad, and he was determined to know what exactly it was.
"Kiki de Montparnasse is a pre-war underwear company. Lingerie. You know, thongs and shit."
"Thongs." Derek knew what was about to happen, and he didn't like it one bit. He spun around to his squad, looking around for a victim before homing in on Kate, the only one who could even remotely be interested in these girly things. "Kate, you know anything about this stuff? Can you, uh, inspect it to make sure it is all right?"
"Hell no!" Kate exhaled furiously, panic visible on her face. "I don't know anything about all that. You the' boss, you touch it."
Cringing inwardly, Derek made an uncertain step towards the bag. What the fuck did I do to deserve all of this, he thought savagely as he heard a barely suppressed snickering behind his back.
That bastard Harris, pretending not to notice all that, opened the bag and invited Derek to explore its contents. Derek crouched down and saw a few rows of women underwear, which to him seemed to have a lot less fabric and a lot more lace than the ones he saw. He couldn't believe a woman would willingly put anything from that bag on herself. Well, apparently one does. Of course, she is not exactly a woman.
"Come on," Harris urged him, "Inspect it."
Derek swallowed nervously and put his shaking hand forward, then jerked it away as he thought better of it. If there is one creature in this goddamn universe able to determine with scientific accuracy that my dirty paw touched her thong, it's her. And only one creature who could find out it was MY paw, and that's also her, and only one creature to actually come for me for that, and that creature is also her. Fuck, he was not going to risk it. He broke into cold sweat as he imagined her coming to him, quickly turned to the squad and barked an order to find him something clean. Some shuffling later, and Kate helpfully offered him a roll of clean bandages, desperately trying not to burst out laughing. He took it gratefully, wrapped his hand in it and carefully touched the unfamiliar fabric before him; it all seemed to be here, and nothing seemed to be openly broken, beyond that he had no idea what to check. A thought emerged in his head, that despite persistent rumors about General Cameron liking that stuff and apparently receiving it in spades, she never gave any indication about what kind style or styles she actually preferred. Neither did John; Derek had no idea if he even liked those things when they were on her. It wouldn't fucking kill anyone of them to give some well-deserved feedback to the troops, he thought savagely. At least then he wouldn't be on his own in this situation. Still, he'd come this far, he might as well go all the way. Praying that the Skynet patrol finds them right now and ends his misery, he leaned closer to sniff at the fabric, intensifying the sniggering and suppressed laughter behind his back to unbearable levels.
"Shut it down, all of you!" he barked angrily, careful to turn his head as he screamed so that the spittle won't land on fabric, "Tomwell, Kennedy – I haven't decided who's going to be on sanitation duty after our return, you know, and I have a feeling you two would fit well." With snickering marginally quieter than before, he finished the procedure as quickly as possible and stood up, wiping the sweat from his brow with unbandaged hand, finding nothing wrong with the collection before him.
"It's all good," Harris promised him, completely unfazed about Derek's humiliation. The man must be a metal, despite his dog, to be so fucking calm in such situation. "They are clean, untouched and worn by nobody but the mannequins. My boys collected them using med gloves; they knew what they were dealing with." He leaned to Derek and whispered conspiratorially: "If you play your cards right, you can dole this stuff out for a few months straight back there at the Bunker – to her, to the girls working there, or to the top generals, they all have someone who can appreciate this; the batch here is about to get you some choice favors among top brass. Just say that it's a voluntary donation from the troops or something like this, they all say that."
An underground market in lacy lingerie, running straight at the headquarters among our top officers. Derek had a feeling he was one step closer to understanding how top brass of the Resistance worked, and he would like nothing more right now than to forget that step. He thought about it for a moment; humiliation aside, bag's content did seem like a useful asset. At the very least, they could probably bargain it with another squad. He nodded at his men, and they brought forth their side of the exchange – bags with canned food.
"Homemade, but with fabric cans; rare stuff," he said.
Harris nodded and took out a knife, opening one of the cans. The frozen meat probably didn't smell that much, but the stomach growls of his squad were so loud they should have been heard by all Skynet units nearby. I wouldn't even mind it at this time. Derek knew that this story of his experiences today would entertain the rest of his squad for days, and then they will be back at bunker and relay it to other squads, and those squads to another, the story mutating with each retelling and possibly outliving the Skynet itself. That's how he will go out and be left in history books – Derek Reese, the panty inspector.
Having completed the inspection, Harris nodded to Derek and called his men to take the food. The inspection finally over, two groups had to go their separate ways now, and do it quickly before the sunrise started. As two groups were moving apart, that bastard Harris shouted to Derek, once he figured out he was at the safe distance: "Thanks for exchange, enjoy the merchandise! Leave something for the Lily!" The asshole and his group disappeared then, ignoring the curses that Derek sent to their backs.
Furious Derek inspected his troops and, in a time-honored martial tradition, decided to transfer his frustration to someone of the lesser rank: "Hey Kate, you look like you are in high spirits. That's good, because you are dragging that bag all the way to the Bunker, and if anything happens to it, it's your fault. Thanks for the bandage, by the way. Kennedy, Tomwell – you two are still smiling, I see. I like it, we rarely see that kind of attitude when it comes to toilet cleaning; I expect you two to set an example for the other squads by your industrious work once we get back. Now let's get moving to the shelter, people, before the sun is out."
As he watched grumbling Kate close and carefully lift the bag with lingerie, Derek decided to give her another warning: "Don't touch that stuff, don't move it, definitely don't try to wear it, and if I were you, I wouldn't even breathe on it. Otherwise I can't guarantee your safety once we go back." Or mine, he added inwardly. Cameron could be ferocious on some days; the troops didn't call this Lily "Iron" because of her metal interior.
As they hurried across the ruins to their shelter, Derek tried to get his bearing back. Their primary mission was not exactly a stellar success, them finding no evidence of Skynet activity in this area that the recon group reported. Either the recon was mistaken or Skynet actually smarted out to them and moved its operations; none of the two possibilities were good, especially when he imagined himself reporting that to the General. He risked a glance at Kate, running behind with the priceless bag on her back. Maybe this stuff will actually come in handy after all. And I think I just found out a person to "volunteer" it to her…