Synopsis: Derek's squad returns to Resistance HQ from a mission, Corporal Kate Higgins undertakes a dangerous mission, and John Connor's careless words to his protector finally catch up with him.
The morning light glided across the desolate landscape of the Earth that once was human. In the east it ran, uncaring, past crumbled ruins of former cities, their pitiful inhabitants rushing underground or hiding under cover like cockroaches, while the air filled with a steady hum of Hunter-Killers, rising in the dawn like vengeful angels of steel and fury, punishing anyone who dared to appear in the open. Here, in Skynet-controlled country, the old rules still applied: all humans were prey, and those who dared to brace the sunlight were not long for this world. Here the day belonged to the machines, as it did for so many years already, in the post-apocalyptic states that were no longer united.
But the sunlight ran further, and eventually it hit a bunker in the west. Here, men and women have fought, bled and died to bring day back, and the skies were silent, observed by watchful eyes and ears and protected by rockets, these sleeping needles of aluminium that were capable of piercing the sky itself. And in that bunker, in the room behind two closed magnetic doors and bulletproof windows, the sunlight glazed upon two warm bodies, united into one, now separating. One, a man with no eye, wondered why his companion was so different, so playful today; another, a woman with no heart, wondered why he lied to her the day before, but didn't show it, as only she was capable of. And not far from that bunker, a squad of human soldiers struggled forward, weary and tired, as only humans of that peculiar post-apocalyptic variety can be capable of.
Derek breathed raggedly, not bothering to wipe the sweat that covered his face. Every muscle in his body ached and begged for a break, but he couldn't; none of them could, not with the things after them. If they made it, they could rest then; if not, well… Best not to think about if not.
He risked a sideways glance at his squad: all present and accounted for, Kate still dragging that stupid bag, Tomwell holding onto his stretcher, others tired beyond any measure, but determined, like him, to reach safety.
To say that they had "shitty luck" on their return journey would be an understatement of the century. A day after their exchange with Harris' squad Tomwell managed to break his leg and had to be carried in a stretcher. This, of course, lowered their mobility, and instead of a designated safe house they had to drop in with a civilian group, dirt-poor and afraid out of their minds of people with guns. Derek couldn't find it in himself to drive the poor buggers out, with the morning approaching, so they had to spend the daysleep together. Besides stationing an additional sentry to watch them, Derek's group had to go through the day accompanied by coughing, sneezing and frightful whispering; not a good companion to a sleep, at least not to Derek's frayed nerves. It was like these first years after the fall, when everyone huddled together without distinction, people ate crap and rats (rats were good food, fresh, not like the crap), watched fires dance in broken TVs for entertainment and died daily without anyone even bothering much. Every Resistance member was keen to leave these days behind, and to Derek that night was quite an unpleasant reminder of how little the war changed for the common guy. Their next day was not better, in fact, it was significantly shittier – literally. They finally opened their new food supplies, and, well, the quality was not exactly to specifications. Some brain-headed nerd would probably figure out later, what exactly went wrong with the preparation or conservation process, but for Derek and his group it all meant a day of a violent diarrhea which left them all exhausted and helpless. If a Skynet patrol came upon them right at that time, it would be a fitting end to the whole ill-fated mission, and the only thing which warmed Derek's heart as his bowels went through their private war was the thought that Harris should be suffering just as badly right now. Serves him right, I say. Somehow they survived the ordeal and by night were on the move again, exhausted and well beyond their schedule. Just when Derek thought that nothing worse could happen, they almost stumbled upon a group of at least six fucking terminators, who were finishing off a Resistance squad, putting their uniforms on and checking their pockets. His squad could take out one terminator, probably two, if they were fresh and could ambush them; but no, they were tired and exhausted after shitting their bowels out and with that idiot Tomwell on a stretcher, no fucking way they would survive encounter with six of these monstrosities. After a moment of sheer, mind-numbing terror Derek managed to get a grip and whispered to his team to sneak around the terms, then radioed a warning to HQ and went forward at a brisk pace, all thoughts of sleep forgotten. They marched for hours, sweaty and nervous, glancing backwards in case the metal crept after them. They marched well into morning, and now were finally coming to Resistance's most important bunker, tired and exhausted beyond mere words –the perfect time for the fake patrol to launch their attack, if the metal decided to do so.
Derek rounded a corner and finally came upon it – the newly built wall, which seemed to be almost glistening compared to the desolation around. It seemed impossible, a newly construction on the surface, out in the open, proudly advertising its existence despite all the dangers of Skynet troops who could be coming against it and what it defended. All his senses, shaped in a bitter decades-long guerilla war against the enemy, screamed at him to get away from there before the punishment came. Derek ignored them, like he learned to do, and turned around to his squad. Halting for breath, he told them to take a defensive position and warn about anything that approached. He'd be damned if metal ambushed them this close to a goal, and more so if it managed to break into the Resistance HQ because of him and his troops.
Derek shuffled his way to a steel door in the door and banged on it, tiredly. A shutter in the door opened and blue eyes stared at Derek.
"First Lieutenant Derek Reese, Dee-An three-eight-four-one-five," he managed to rasp out, "Returning from a mission Bluebird with my squad, requesting entrance."
As he was saying that, the blue eyes seemed to drill into him, noticing every breath, every movement of the face muscles. The shutter closed, and he heard a man's voice say that he was clear; another voice commanded to let him in. The door opened, and Derek swung in. He managed to notice the owner of blue eyes that inspected him, a steely-eyed freshly-shaved sergeant, who went outside after Derek came in and shut the door behind him. Another man gave Derek a journal, in which he signed, and afterwards, having checked his signature, the man finally offered him a hand, which Derek shook.
"Sergeant First Class Garrett Stone. Welcome back, Derek. How was the bluebird?"
"It didn't sing like we hoped it would, but at least we managed to notice a party of six terms, possibly more, not that far from here."
"I heard about your dispatch. The problem is, from here it seemed that none of the teams went missing or reported any trouble; they hit our patrol at a perfect moment, and when it was time for check-in…"
"…The metal answered, using your patrol team's voices."
"Exactly. And then your dispatch came. We had no idea how to verify which one of you was playing a fast one on us, not until you personally came here so we could verify you to be human. They didn't attack any other team or outpost since then, so Skynet is saving them for some grander plan. It's getting smarter."
"It adapts. Like it always did. While you guys have been getting sloppy, up here away from the frontline."
"Could be. The brass would be wracking brains around this one, that's for sure."
"No doubt. Listen, Garrett, these terms could be coming for my squad right now. I'd love to stay and chat, but we have been marching for twelve hours strait, my people are at their limits, and we have one injured there. Can we cut the red tape a little and at least get my people inside?"
"We have to be sure, Derek, especially after your dispatch. Sorry, you know how these things are. It won't take long, and if any trouble comes, Barrett there will cover your guys while they rush inside."
"What, is he some kind of superman?" as he said that, Derek immediately cursed himself for stupidity. Dumb, Derek, you forgot there you are.
"Better," the man smiled. Derek didn't return the smile. Instead, he asked for water.
As he sat there, drinking greedily, he listened to the soldiers around exchanging news and gossip. Apparently everything was fine, no sudden attacks, no big losses. Good enough. Maybe they were actually winning. Or maybe it's the calm before the storm.
"I do wish we would actually catch these bastards soon," said one of the younger soldiers wistfully, referring to the terminators Derek spotted, "Six terms in one fell swoop – that's like a Christmas come early."
Derek couldn't help but smile a little, hearing that. Maybe there was hope after all, if guys like them at the bunker could still remember the basics.
"Yeah," agreed another soldier, "I would like to see our Barrett go all berserk on their asses."
Derek's smile dropped. Nevermind. I hate this place.
Finally there was a loud banging at the door, and Derek couldn't help but twitch a little, so nervous he was. A soldier opened the shutter, then the door, and Sergeant Barrett stepped in.
"All clear. No sign of enemy movement, sir."
"Good. Then let's get those people in."
Derek's people shuffled in, one by one, looking as tired and nervous as he probably was. He counted them carefully: no one left, no one extra, everyone looking pretty much as he had left them. It looked like they finally made it, after all.
They exchanged farewells with Garrett and left. The man gave them directions and sternly reminded to bring injured Tomwell to med bay and for them to rest before doing anything else.
As they were leaving, Derek took one last look at Sergeant Barrett. The man stood there, at parade rest, staring back at Derek with his blue eyes, not blinking. In fact, Derek never noticed him to blink at all. This thing is at the same rank as my brother once was. He restrained himself from shuddering and quickly moved away, getting dangerous thoughts away from the head.
"Was this guy on drugs or something? He made me stick my tongue out!" complained Kate, once they were at the safe distance from the perimeter.
"Kate…" Derek uttered in a tired voice, "We came to a bunker full of metal, a metal was checking you out, and you didn't even notice it? I think I might have to bump the size of toilet duty folks from two to three people, after all."
"Don't worry, sir, she was also checking him out. Especially his big blue eyes," rasped someone from behind, and a tired snickering followed. Kate croaked something furiously, still carrying the thrice-cursed bag upon her back.
They dragged themselves across an asphalted pathway, clean and spotless, obviously new, just like the perimeter wall. Looking around, Derek couldn't help but marvel at how clean, orderly and well-maintained the surroundings were. No thrown-away cigarettes, no cracks where they shouldn't be. He wasn't even sure if the place was as clean before the war as it was now. Of course it couldn't have two-legged metal cleaning it then. Reprogrammed terminators ("reprogs" in common usage) were apparently big cleanliness freaks, who could've guessed?
"It's like a different world," murmured someone, and Derek silently agreed. Yes, and we'd better not forget it while we're here.
They finally made it to one of the barracks surrounding the main building, and once Derek made sure it was the building assigned to them, he started laying out orders:
"All right, we're not here on vacation, so don't get too comfortable. Remember where we are, do not talk if you are not asked, do not spill out anything you might regret later, do not wander around, and do not, I repeat, do not talk about the bag, its contents or circumstances upon which it came to our possession. That's classified military information from now on, and I will let General have your ass for breakfast if you start babbling, not joking here. Kennedy, Rockwell – you take that poor bastard Tomwell to the med bay and after that you immediately go back, no sightseeing. Tomwell, you alive in there? Good, stay that way, we still need you for that toilet duty later. Wells – you on guard duty. Full alert, don't get soft just because a clean bed is nearby, and don't assume I won't check on you, either. Martinez, you will relieve him; everything I said to Wells applies to you too, I hope you listened. Kate, take that bag, you will go with me. All the others – that's it, you made it, now take your stomach meds and go to bed. Enjoy it while it lasts, people."
Derek's squad was so tired that the people didn't even bother to cheer the dismissal, they just rushed ahead to prepare for sleep, filling the small building with noise. Derek and Kate went to his separate officer's room, and there Kate carefully and under Derek's watchful eye retrieved a few sets of lingerie from the bag, wrapping them in clear plastic packaging they prepared for this, and hiding it under her jacket. Afterwards Derek locked the bag with priceless cargo in officer's safe and they went outside. After walking towards main bunker for a few minutes he decided to break the ice.
"Kate, don't grumble."
"I'm not grumbling."
"Yes, you are. You move your mouth like that when you grumble. See, you are doing it right now. Kate, I would have done it myself, but I'm an officer, a man – my reputation would not survive it, you know that. You are a woman, for you it would be alright. Look at it this way – I'll give you half a day off for doing that little thing and you will be in favor with Iron Lily – that's got to count for something, right?"
"Fine, fine," Kate signed, "I just… didn't think I would ever do something like this when I signed up."
"None of us did. Think about it: twenty years ago people didn't think their whole world would come crashing down upon their heads, so those who survived to hide in sewers and eat rats would be the lucky ones. Ten years ago nobody thought Skynet could be beaten, ever. Five years ago no one thought we would have metal on our side. We live in a crazy world, and sometimes have to do something we never expected to. It happens."
"I said it was fine, okay? I don't need a pep talk, I just want to deal with this as quickly as possible."
Kate signed again and took in their surroundings. For some reason she was feeling on edge here.
"This place creeps me out, I have to say, but I can't just figure out why."
"Oh, for me there are plenty of reasons as to why," Derek smiled mirthlessly. "For one, there no dogs here. Have you noticed? Not a single pup, not here, not inside, not at the perimeter where they could really use it. Why is that, you think?"
"The poor things couldn't handle being around that much metal, right?"
Derek nodded grimly.
"They are smarter than us, it seems."
They walked to the bunker entrance, guarded by a few soldiers and x-ray scanner. Derek leaned to Kate.
"Here's a fun game which may come in handy later: try to recognize metal among people we are going to walk by, and count it all. After we go back we compare the count," he whispered. Kate nodded briefly.
At the entrance they were stopped by a burly man in military camo. He silently checked them and then showed at the scanner. Here's one, thought Derek, his conviction deepening when the man didn't react to results of Kate's scan, despite what she carried beneath her jacket. Nevertheless, he was glad that they were allowed in quickly and that no one made a scene.
They walked along the bunker corridor, following directions to so-called "Curator". Apparently he will provide all necessary details about meeting Cameron.
They came to an office that was a center of activity, with people constantly rushing in and out. As they entered it, Derek saw the Curator - a wry old man with old-fashioned glasses on his face, sitting behind a large desk, face buried in some papers. There was an impressive row of cabinets surrounding him from behind from all sided, every drawer marked with a number. Many drawers also had a plastic token, bearing the same number as on a drawer, hanging from a handle. The people who went into office ran to a curator, often with a file or a stack of paper, and he would place it in a drawer, or under the table, or added to papers already on the paper, and give them a token from one of the drawers or a small slip of paper, on which he stamped something. His movements were quick, precise and calculated, and he didn't bother to tell messengers anything or even raise his head. Metal or not? I'll count him as one, despite the glasses and old age. That makes five so far. Derek cleared his throat.
"What," came out from the desk. It was not a question.
"First Lieutenant Derek Reese, back from a mission Bluebird. I need to give a report to General, I was told you would arrange the details."
"Write," the Curator moved to him some sheets of paper and a pen, not raising his head.
"Does it mean I won't have to meet the General?" Derek asked in a hopeful voice. Damn, the day was getting better at last.
The Curator finally raised his head and stared at Derek, not blinking. His bespectacled gaze held infinite contempt.
"You? No. Write," he dropped his head again and went back to rearranging his papers.
Derek took paper and pen gratefully and moved to a table beside the door, which was evidently intended just for such an occasion. Nearly humming to himself, he was about to write a damn report and get out of this freaky building.
"Hey, Derek!" hissed Kate, "What about me?"
"Oh, yeah. Um, my friend here has something to give to General Cameron personally. It's a gift."
"Show," he didn't move.
"No way!" Kate panicked, "It's a very personal gift."
"Fine. X-ray. Show," his hand moved to point to the left.
"I think it means there's an X-ray machine next door, and he wants you to show him the printout," Derek whispered to her, "Come on, Kate, let's get this over with."
So instead of one creepy bastard she was going to show panties to a whole bunch of them? Great, just great. Sighing, Kate went outside and yep, there was a machine. A few minutes later she returned, considerably redder, and silently gave Curator the printout.
He took a brief glance at it, then crumpled the paper and tosses it into a trashcan. His left hand grabbed a small piece of paper, while the other one procured one stamp out of a whole collection by his side. He stamped the paper and held it to her, the whole procedure barely taking five seconds.
"Follow this. Don't be late."
She took the paper and read the stamp. It said, "2nd floor, Ext. corridor, 3rd lane, 10:03". She looked at the clock on the wall - she had a bit more than twenty minutes, but for what?
"I'm sorry, this is my first time here," she apologized, "What exactly am I supposed to do with this?"
A sigh. Then:
"These are directions for place and time you meet the General. The paper is for you. Follow signs outside. Don't be late."
This probably the longest speech the Curator gave today, he returned to his duties, shuffling paper louder than before, as if to indicate the conversation was finished.
"Good luck!" called Derek cheerfully from behind. She turned around to scowl at his beaming face and went outside the door, sidestepping to let a running man through.
She feared she could get lost, but there were guide signs everywhere, and she quickly came to a location specified on the paper. The second floor of the bunker was, of course, the floor directly beneath the ground one, and there was an "Ext. corridor", which was wider and longer than ordinary one. There were strips of paint on the floor near the left wall, all different colors, at even distance from each other. Near most strips stood people, looking nervous or concentrated. The whole thing resembled a pre-war gym class or a relay race event. Kate proceeded to a yellow strip marked with "3" and looked around. People around seemed to be the same messengers she saw running through the bunker, all of them with stacks of paper or files in their hands. They eyed her curiously, since her hands were empty aside from a paper with directions. She stared ahead uncomfortably and tried to relax. The metal count: nine so far.
Soon enough she heard sounds of multiple boots outside, and then a figure flew into the room, surrounded by two messengers on both sides. Kate stared at her. She wasn't what she expected an acting General of the Resistance, a fearsome Iron Lily, to be. She saw a very young woman, nearly teen and quite short, but with the air of authority and a jacket with shining stars indicating General rank that were quite unmistakable. The two people rapidly talked to her at once, while she wrote something on her pad, two different earpieces visible in her ears. Now that's what they call being time-efficient. As one of the men beside her dropped back, a man two lanes from Kate rushed to take his place, rapidly explaining something to Cameron and showing her his file. Cameron said something to him quietly, while he wrote, then he was off and a man beside Kate rushed to take his position. Kate prepared herself, the resemblance with relay race she once saw on a video intensifying to an uncomfortable degree. When the second man dropped off, she rushed forward with such speed that she nearly collided with the General, stopping at the last moment and then running to catch up. Cameron didn't bother to comment or look at her.
"Corporalkatehiggins, servingunderderekreese, onehundredthirtytwo, maam!" she caught her breath and continued, in a clearer voice:
"General, I have something to give you, it's- it's something from our unit. I have to give it to you alone. Please, ma'am."
Cameron gave her a brief glance. Kate noticed an exquisite face, flawless makeup which she only saw in old fashion mags, and some incredible perfume. No wonder John Connor chose her above others.
"Storage room C in 15 minutes. Come alone." and she carried forward.
Kate stopped, wiped a sweat from her brow and was nearly thrown to the floor by a collision with a man running from behind her. He dropped a curt apology and accelerated to catch up with retreating back of the General. Kate got out of the way until she was trampled, and began asking directions to the storage room.
It was on the same floor, and it did have a placard, like any other room here. There was also a scanner by the door. Kate doubtfully passed her Resistance ID in front of it, and to her surprise the scanner beeped and the door unlocked. Either the security here is shit or Cameron already ordered that I was to be allowed in this. Freaky. She came inside.
Well, it was a storage room all right, filled with a yellow light and full of mysterious boxes. Kate was curious about their contents, but no way she was going to check them, when the General could drop on her any minute now...
"Corporal, what is it that you were going to give me?"
"AAAAAH!" Kate jumped and swiveled around, coming to face with General Cameron herself. Somehow she managed to get a jump on her, coming completely silently, not even a beep out of a door scanner.
"I-it's a gift, ma'am. Fr-from our unit." she took out her despicable cargo, wrapped in clear plastic packaging. "It's clean."
Cameron contemplated the lingerie offered to her, making no move to take it out of Kate's slightly shaking hand.
"Oh. They do look good," she smiled to Kate, who smiled back, somewhat hesitantly.
"They won't fit John, though. Wrong size." her smile dropped. Kate's heart sank.
"That was a joke," Cameron specified, looking at young woman's terrified expression. "You look stressed, Corporal."
NO SHIT I AM.
"Sorry, ma'am. It's nothing," she waved her hand absent-mindedly. Cameron stared at it with interest. Kate hurriedly dropped it and tried to explain:
"I'm fine, ma'am. Just a bit tired, that's all."
"Well, I want to thank you all for this gift. It could not have been easy to come upon, and it will come in handy. You have done a valuable service for the Resistance," she offered a smile to Kate again, a genuine one, and finally took the package out of her hand.
As a door locked behind the General, Kate found out that her knees were shaking. She dropped to the floor of the storage room, panting. Was it finally over? Did she just gave panties to one of the highest-ranking officers of the Resistance and survived to tell the tale? She thought about her earlier impressions of Cameron.
She's beautiful, but that's not it. She's terrifying. She looked like a snake that was about to swallow me whole. These cold eyes… How can John live with that? There were terminators who looked a lot less scarier, Kate thought. For some reason an image of Sergeant Barrett inspecting her with his big blue eyes came into her mind.
Suddenly the door opened, silently.
"Corporal..."
"AIIIIEEEH!"
Kate jumped in the air and stood up, straight as a stick, nervously saluting to a puzzled face of General Cameron.
"Are you all right? Is your commander treating you properly?"
What the hell is she talking about?
"Derek? He's a good one." he was, compared to some officers Kate saw. Derek didn't take no shit, but was approachable, cared about them in his own way and strived to keep them all alive. What more would you want from your military superior?
"But you are exhibiting high levels of stress and nervous exhaustion, and are extremely tired."
"That's because we just came from a difficult mission, ma'am. Well, not the mission that was difficult, but the return. We were chased by met- by terminators, and couldn't get any sleep."
"That will not do. Derek Reese should not have forced you here in such condition. The war is far from over, and we need all of our soldiers healthy and well-rested. You have my orders to rest as soon as you get back to your assigned quarters, and the same goes for your squad. Derek Reese should have let you get your sleep first. I will raise that matter with relevant parties."
In fact, Derek did order them to rest, well, most of them. But Kate was not about to argue that point with a General. She just wanted to end the whole encounter quickly. And he did drop that panties business on Kate, so now he could talk himself out of it.
"Yes, ma'am."
"I'm serious, Corporal. You will rest, we need every able-bodied soldier here."
"Yes, ma'am."
"And thank you again for the gift. I think it will fit, after all."
"Yes, ma'am."
"That was a joke, Corporal."
"Yes, ma'am."
She finally left. Kate's knees wanted to give up again, but she was not going to risk it - what if she came back again? So Kate waited for ten seconds, then rushed the door open, looked at retreating figure of General Cameron, and hurried herself to get out of the bunker. She was alive after all this, and with a full eight-hour sleep and a warm meal ahead of her, the life was about to get a lot brighter.
The metal count: ten. Funny, how you have to remind yourself that she's metal too…
John Connor was working on his PC this afternoon, his hands flying across the keyboard. The war was getting more complicated by the minute, as Skynet was adapting its tactics in a face of steady human push on its territories. It ceased offensive operations completely and buffed the defenses of what it still had, so now they had to fight their way through each inch of the terrain in a grim guerilla warfare campaign, slowing the advance. At the same time, the number of terminators trying to sneak through their lines increased tenfold, and they were smarter than before, as the situation with a group noticed by Derek indicated (still not found; they cut contact once they realized John's men were leading them; they could be anywhere now). Those terminators they caught now had chips treated with a phosphorus compound which burned when a chip was pulled out, destroying the chip and the possibility to reprogram the term or learn something from it. There was a biological warfare attack at Eagle Rock bunker; only one woman survived, out of two hundred. And if that was not all, circumstantial evidence now suggested that Skynet massively increased the number of Grays and spies in the Resistance network and tried to inflame the tensions between human supremacists and Connor's circle, tearing the Resistance into separate factions. The war was shifting, front lines becoming blurry, wins and loses unclear. A shadow war, full of feints and deceptions, each one more dangerous that the last. If they wanted to win, they need more than just keep up - they need to turn the whole damn thing on its head. He just had to figure a way how to do that. There were some plans he did have, plans so secret and dangerous that even Cameron didn't know about them. We will fight you wherever you are, you bastard. And we will win.
"Boo."
It took all of John's intense training and a lifetime spent on a battlefield not to jump now with a shriek. Cameron in the last few months had learned to move with such total silence that she could fool even his honed senses. If that was Skynet's guy right now, he could solve all their problems with one swipe of the blade or a flick of the wrist. We have to install some creaking floorboards here or some shit.
"Hey," he smiled weakly. She was almost nude, wearing only the lingerie set. The new one. Where does she get that stuff? And how long has she been there, watching me?
Cameron moved closer. Her perfume was also new. And her eyes shone.
He lied to me.
After an intense, fiery, passionate coupling, the John broke off, panting. She was as relentless today as she was yesterday. And although a part of him just wanted to squirm in pleasure and give in to her, no questions asked, he had to know why.
"That was great," he breathed out, "I have to say, I didn't expect that now."
"Am I that bad usually? Bummer."
She was lying across the bed, a head propped up by a left arm, shining eyes watching him, a coy smile playing on her lips.
"Oh, come on, Cam, that's not what I meant. You are always great. It's just, we usually leave this stuff for the evening for a reason. I was thinking there about our strategy for defeating Skynet, and I'm pretty sure fucking him until he surrenders is not going to be an option."
"That worked with you, though." She changed her position, leaning to him until her face was close, very close. Her new perfume was great. He tried to gather his wits.
"As if I ever could resist you, even before that. You are one terminator I don't have any defenses against, you know."
"I know. You trust me, and I do everything I can not to betray your trust. Anyway, what is the problem? Couples need to spruce up their sex life from time to time, so it doesn't become stale. Didn't you like it?"
"I did. And if we are talking about spicing our boinks up, there are whole chapters of Kama Sutra we haven't tried yet. What I'm afraid of is that my heart won't be able to keep up with all that demand. Or some other part of me."
"Oh, don't be coy, John Connor. You are in an excellent physical condition for your age, and I monitor your vital signs constantly. You can keep up." She dragged her finger gently across his chin and mouth, "So you liked that, huh?"
"How could I not? I just wonder what this new... demand is all about. Are you doing that for me?"
"Well, I do enjoy the sex we have, thanks for asking. Should I do everything for your sake?"
"It is part of your programming..."
"Oh, do shut up. Sometimes you talk way too much, John Connor," the flippant manner in which she said that, and a smile that followed, counteracted the harshness of her words. She put her fingers, now cool, to his burning forehead, and began to gently massage it. He sighed, partly from pleasure that her cool touch brought, partly from frustration. If Cameron didn't want to talk about the issue, she could evade it until he was in the grave from an old age. It's like a staring contest with a terminator - you always lost.
"So no more pain, huh?" she whispered softly, continuing her ministrations.
"Yeah," he mumbled, his eye closed, his body surrendering to her touch, as usual. "It doesn't hurt after we do this, for some reason. Kinda funny..." his remaining eye opened wide, as he realized what he just said. Cameron withdrew from him and sat on the bed with her knees together, arms hugging them, lowering her head until it was resting on top, her gaze looking on him sadly.
"How long, John?" she asked, after what seemed like an eternity of silence.
"... A while. I had to keep it from you, Cam. I just had to."
"Why, John? Why?"
His heart was breaking. There was a pain in his chest that was more intense than any wound he ever received. But she had to know.
"Because it is not that important. Cam, it really isn't. The pain is not that big, compared to... that night... and there are a lot of people who live with far more severe one. I'll live with it."
"But why hide it from me, John? Why lie?"
The pain in the chest was now almost unbearable. They were about to break up, they were going to, and he was at fault. John Connor, leader of the Resistance. An old cripple, and a coward.
"Because I know how you are, Cam. You are protective of me, you always were, and after the incident even more so. I know your priorities, I programmed them myself, and I know you would let Resistance collapse if that meant I would be safe. And I can't let you do that. I need you out there, being a General they deserve, oiling and directing our war machine, taking the war to Skynet."
He straightened and looked directly into her sad brown eyes, as he thought of something: "Cam, all your life, all your existence have been defined by a mission. That mission was me - first to terminate, then to defend. That mission was why you were created, it was why you were reprogrammed, it is why you are here now." He leaned to her, so that his words would hit with a bigger impact: "Well, that is true for me as well. I also have a mission I was born to fulfill. I had a role defined for me even before I was conceived, and it directed me from my first steps. That mission was to be John Connor, leader of the Resistance. That mission was to wage war against the machines, create the Resistance, defeat Skynet. At first I had to do that mission because I was taught to and had no choice, but then it grew bigger than that. I have seen soldiers I had to command. I have seen their complaints and their laughs, their good and bad, and I had to send them to missions from which they might not return. I have seen civilians, refugees who lost everything they owned, whose eyes lit up, whose entire existence made sense again when they saw me, and I couldn't let them down. I have seen Skynet camps, and I knew I could not let them stand, knew I could not let that become the future of all of us. I have seen my mother raise me up, sacrifice her chance of normal life for me, and waste away from illness, all so that I could do my mission now. The mission encircled my entire life, my existence - and now not only because I had, but also because I wanted to do it now, and everything I ever do will be defined by that."
He leaned forward, touching his forehead with Cameron's.
"I bet you also know what it is like, Cam. What it means to have a mission that is your entire universe, that, as time goes on, fills with new meaning and significance for you. I- I love you, Cam. I love you with every fiber of my being, every cell of my heart. I want to be with you until the end. But the mission doesn't care about any of that. The Resistance, the war that we are leading, is more important than any man or a woman. Even me. Even you. Our priorities may conflict, they will conflict, and I- I'm not sure what we can do about that."
Well, that's it. He said that. Perhaps they shouldn't have gotten so close after all. And not because he was a man, and she a machine. In a war, who cared? But because at the core, what they strived for was different. He would sacrifice himself for the men he led, if that meant the end of the war. She would sacrifice his men without hesitation, if that meant he lived. She would keep him in isolation even if that impacted the war effort negatively, if that kept him safe. She already did.
Her arm found his, and he suppressed a shiver. Unlike her warm forehead, her hand was cold. Very cold. But when she started speaking, the heat began to return to it.
"John... you are afraid that by caring for you, I'm neglecting the duties that you have assigned to me. The duties which you see as essential. But that is not true. Our priorities can coexist, John, they already do. I have known for the last two days. Was my performance in these days negatively affected?"
That caught John off-guard. He moved his head away and looked at her thoughtfully. She acted strange these days, and he reviewed all the decisions she made as general to determine the probable cause and effect of that, and she actually managed fine. He never bothered to look inside himself, to realize that the lie that he told her got the whole thing started, to remember that he shouldn't ever lie to her. He had to admit that she actually managed to pull off her double duty quite well, so far.
"I'm an idiot, aren't I?" he muttered, "You have already figured this thing out, while I was overthinking the matter. We can actually make this thing work, if we just talk to each other, like we used to."
"Yes. I was more worried about you lying to me than about the pain. Pain I can handle, I know the ways," she smiled at him briefly, "but if you lie and hide things, it means that you do not trust me. It means you keep away from me things that can hurt you, things that I can help with. It means I am failing in my mission. It means I am failing you."
"This must have been killing you these two days. Cam, I'm sorry. I'm so sorry, that you had to go through that, just because I thought I should hide things instead of discussing them like a man. I'm an idiot, truly."
"Cameron, you should be glad you had to experience the irresistible charms of John Connor in person!" Cameron suddenly quoted someone. That did get a chuckle out of John, like it was supposed to.
"Yeah, those charms aren't so great once you experience them up close. Sometimes I don't know why you bother with me."
"Well, someone has to carry the burden. Not that I'm complaining, mind you," Cameron drew close and kissed him on the forehead. He understood his mistake, now she had to sweeten the bitter pill and reinforce his decision to confide in her, now and in the future.
"But I was serious about not being able to handle this temp you set for much longer, you know," he pointed out, "It gets the pain off, but also makes me tired, and tired me is not a good General for this war. And, well, now you know what it all means for me."
"There are options. We have under our control a sizeable territory with a lot of what used to be prime medical centers. I will conduct a search for the records and treatment that may help. Until then, you just have to trust me. I won't let you suffer in pain alone, John. I just won't. And I can do it and kick Skynet's ass at the same time."
He chuckled at that, hearing from her sweet lips an expression that was usually expressed by burly, unwashed soldiers.
"Yeah, yeah, I learned my lesson. Okay, when you have time today, start preparing orders to a few teams who can be trusted with this, and link me in once you set the structure of the operation. We'll organize it together. Also, this whole thing wouldn't happen if we had more time to talk our issues than a brief window before screwing around in the evening. We will set up an hour every day - a whole hour, maybe more - to talk things through, once you return in the evening. Just talk, first me, then you, another day we may change the order or how we do it. Just asking questions, sharing what we think is interesting or important, whatever. Just talk, like we used to."
"Anything more, my General?" she was now working him with her hand down below. He nearly moaned, but tried to stay in focus.
"Um, yes, if today turned suddenly into a Confession Day, it feels unfair for it to be entirely one-sided. I poured out my heart to you, now it's you turn - ah!" he did moan at last. She chuckled.
"Well, I don't have a heart."
"I can believe that. It's heartless what you do now, forcing an old man like me to into a second one today. I'm not twenty-five anymore - aah! But I still would like to know if something troubles you, if there is any secret you wish to share. Cam, you can tell me."
"Tell me!" some officer screamed at her, as she crouched near John's listless body, frantically checking his vital signs. The smoke poured from his head where a plasma blast hit him, and the flesh was already cauterizing from the intense heat.
"Tell me if he will live! I know you have sensors for that! Tell me, you metal bitch!"
Her analysis complete, she calculated that John had about a 20% probability to survive, if they undertake emergency procedures immediately.
"He will live!" she shouted to him, "He must live!"
"Well, there is only one thing that's been hanging on my mind recently," she removed her hand and leaned back, giving him a smile, "Why do I still bother with you? I haven't puzzled that one out yet."
His serious face was quickly replaced by grin.
"That's a mystery. Must be that irresistible John Connor charm."
"So show it to me, big boy. So far I've heard only talk, and it wasn't that impressive."
"Oh yeah?" he pulled her to him, and, as an hour that followed was to prove, it turned out that John Connor was not that old yet.
As she went on to her afternoon duties, the turmoil of the last few days was finally replaced in General Cameron's metallic head with a calm.
He lied to me. But he did that because he thought I could compromise his primary mission. He doesn't think so now. He still trusts me. Our primary missions are compatible. He will defeat Skynet. I will protect him. In every way I can.
He lied to me once. But that's solved now. That memory is no longer needed in active storage.
Memory archived.
Notes: Thank you for your review, Wihino! I hope you are not the only one who liked the story)