Chapter 11
Confrontations and Treason, Part 2
Strip the proud nobility of their bloated estates, reduce them to a level with plain republicans, send forth to labor, and teach their children to enter the workshops or handle the plow, and you will thus humble proud traitors.
-Thaddeus Stevens
John Connor awoke that morning to an interesting sight. Cameron was in a beanbag chair right by the bed. She was wearing a slight, impish grin and her eyes danced with relief, and not a little bit of barely concealed joy. Across Cameron's room at her desk, Sarah was splayed out in a deep sleep across the desk, seated in a hardback chair. There was an empty black coffee mug by the side of her head.
Jesus, they were that worried about me. I just took a small knock to the head. Cameron quietly brushed her hand across John's face. Her smile widened. "John," she whispered "it's good to see you awake. Derek's still out, Charlie's coming today to check you both out. But your being awake is a good sign."
John smiled. "Did last night happen?"
Cameron frowned, "Yes John, it did, I'm sorry."
"Sorry for what? Me getting my head out of my ass? Me figuring us out?"
Cameron's head tilted to the right, the confusion written across her face, "But, John, there was the sniper-"
John raised his hand to interrupt Cameron's protests. "Hey, let's take the good where we can get it? Look, I...I love you Cam, Maybe I did since that first day in New Mexico. I dunno. Moreover, it doesn't matter. What matters is how I feel now. All else is up to us to make it work. By the way, how did it go between you two?" John queried, nodding at his unconscious mother.
"We talked; she's not totally comfortable with the idea of "us". She wants to understand. She loves you John, and I know she knows I don't want to come between you and her, but…I'm still a terminator to her."
"Can't expect otherwise, Cam. She's got a lot of baggage with regards to term-..I mean-cybernetic organisms."
"I know, but I think she can at least begin to understand. We spoke about everything. She promised she won't get in our way. But…there's rules." Cameron said with a resigned tone.
John hid his head in his hands..."Lemme guess, lot's of "none of this...none of that."
Cameron nodded sagely. "She's not reacting well to…us. Her only idea of a positive in this situation is the fact that Riley is out of the picture."
John chuckled softly "Yeah, I guess my mom would see that as a positive. So, any idea as to our shooter?"
"She's from the future, and it's somebody I should know, but well, the events of last night have kinda made me sluggish. Seems I have a unique feature, a "crash start" capability. I can restart within 30-45 seconds, but..it tends to leave me a bit "fuzzy brained" for lack of a better description. Seems this tends to last for six to ten hours to varying degrees." Cameron explained, wagging her fingers for emphasis. "Closest analogue is like having a hangover for a human. Cognitively speaking, my long-term memory recall is a bit slow. And that includes my trying to figure out who our shooter is. I could fix my issues by going into standby mode, but right now John, I'm needed."
"How come you never used the capability before?"
"Damn firewall again. Sometimes, I wonder why they didn't just burn me and be done with it. But then I remember, they knew they'd lose you. And by then, you were as much a symbol as you were a leader."
John grimaced, "Does it help to know I am not all that crazy about the symbol part?"
"Immensely, the John Connor I knew tended to believe his own press, to borrow the phrase. At least, he did before Denver." Cameron splayed her hands in a show of frustration. "It seems, however, your inability to choose a human to confide in as opposed to me has gone past grumbling and rumors of mutiny."
"Dammit." John hissed. "Why? If they can't trust me about whom I spend what little time I do have to myself, then why trust me over anything else?"
Cameron shrugged with a blank look on her face. "Damned if I know."
John smiled wanly. His head was still fuzzy from last night. Moreover, there was the not insignificant fact that Riley probably had something to do with last night.
More than a little bit. John was beginning to have suspicions about Riley, and just who she was, really. As John reflected on his time with Riley, there were too many coincidences involved, right from the start. Even their first meeting was more than a bit "easy". It was all too reminiscent of how Cameron and he had met.
Yeah, but Cameron came clean with me, Riley? Damn little bitch has played me from the start. John's fist tightened involuntarily as anger and shame coursed through him like electricity through a wire.
Cameron frowned, "John, Riley was sent to do this to you. She had all the advantages. For a human, her infiltration skills were good, very good."
John shook his head "But you knew."
"I suspected."
"You suspected? Cameron, you wanted to terminate her, I would say it was a strong suspicion."
Cameron exhaled. "I did, but it was as much jealousy as suspicion. And there was the fact you ordered me not to harm her."
John gritted his teeth. "Yeah, I know." he growled. "Dammit, I could have gotten us all killed. Especially you." John took her hand in his, gently. "Why did I do it?" he asked with a note of guilt in his voice.
"Simple, you wanted normalcy. Even John Connor tires of war and a destiny that only will come true through the death of two billion human beings." Cameron said in a monotone.
"Yeah, so what, I treated you like shit, Mom was going out of her mind, and god knows where the fuck Derek was. I should have listened. Dammit I should have listened."
Cameron took John's head in both hands with a gentleness that John never suspected Cameron possessed. "John, you made a mistake. Next time, you'll listen?"
John smiled and nodded.
Has she been taking lessons from Mom? He sighed again and shook his head, taking Cameron's hands in his. "So, on to weightier matters, we still don't know who Jane Doe is, there's those stolen files need to be assessed, and there's not a small matter of what to do about the fact that Jeff and Derek probably wanna kill each other."
Cameron nodded. "And General Connor, what does this situation demand?"
"Delegation of authority."
"Right in one, Jeff would be proud, but right now, he's too busy watching over Jane Doe. Now if I could just match her face…ugh! Why am I so…so.."
"Scatterbrained?"
Cameron frowned and swatted John with a loose pillow. She made sure not to aim for the head. She then put her hands on her hips and screwed up her face in a mock scowl. "I am not scatterbrained, John…I am the finest example of neural net technology and…" Cameron's voice trailed off as an idea came unbidden to her. John got the same look, and both blurted out simultaneously.
"DEREK!"
"Derek has to know her-" John exploded.
"-But can we trust Derek?" Cameron finished
"One way to find out you know?"
Cameron grimaced.
Yes, this will go over well. I, the "metal" Derek despises accusing him of treason. Yes, I don't think John recognizes how out of hand this could get. "I think it would be best if you were there as well. To head off any unpleasant incidents."
John looked Cameron up and down...Her leotard was a ruin…with glints of metal and dried blood was showing through in some places, and her face looked similar, as she had taken some of the rounds there as well. Her hair was a matted mess and the only thing looking like it had a spark of life was her eyes. Fire and mirth warred within in them for dominance, and they made Cameron's eyes sparkle like stars in the night sky. But none of it mattered to John, to him, she looked beautiful.
I really ought to have her clean up…on the other hand…looking like this might scare the hell out of Derek...and that might be useful.
John made to get out of bed, and winced from the pain in his head. "Let's not wake mom, it's time Unkie Derek and I had a chat…and Cameron…I'm doing the talking. Moreover, afterwards, I am taking a shower. I feel like crap."
Cameron smiled "John, not alone you're not. What if you pass out again? I mean-"as recognition Cameron's face her lower jaw dropped. "Sarah warned me about such tactics by human males."
"And you're really objecting that much?"
Cameron shook her head vigorously. "Nope, but John...I am not going to be as easy as you might think." she said flirtatiously.
John shook his head.
Mom gave Cameron advice!?. Oh this is so gonna suck! "No, I don't want easy. I want someone I care about deeply. Maybe I need to figure it all out too before we get...physical. After Riley, I want us to be sure, OK? That said, C'mere!" as John grabbed Cameron in his arms by surprise. Cameron let off a happy chuckle and looked deeply into John's eyes.
"So now that you got me? What do you plan to do with me?"
If all ambushes were this fun, I might seek them out.
"Just this." as John leaned in for the first of a long series of kisses as Cameron grinned widely.
"Thank you for explaining" Cameron murmured as they both threw away their cares for the moment and enjoyed each other…
***01010101001011***
Captain Jeff Goldman grimaced as he noticed the results of the latest sims with PIERCE ECHO. So far, nothing good had resulted. PIERCE ECHO had listened intently to Jeff's input, then went and did what it wanted. Frankly, it had all had been a useless exercise.
Damn bucket of bolts has a damn mind of its own, and that mind is homicidal.
Its counterinsurgency policies were simple, depopulation. To PIERCE ECHO, no people meant no insurgents. Moreover, it didn't hesitate to use everything in the arsenal, including air strikes with FAE and Cluster munitions. It dismissed other techniques as "inefficient in relation to the time required." Success was measured in body counts, and frankly, it didn't give a damn who got in the damn way.
I gotta figure a way out of this lunatic asylum. Maybe I need to do an end around and call Ol'Shakey at Human Resources Command and…
There was a knock at the door.
"Enter" Captain Goldman bellowed.
A painfully young ebon-skinned young man wearing a look that telegraphed
I'm unimportant, please don't hurt me! poked his head into Goldman's office with a concerned look on his face. "Hi, um, Captain Goldman? The production team needs to meet with you about an issue with PIERCE ECHO, sir and-"
Goldman raised his hand and smiled "Danny, relax. I don't bite, contrary to rumor, especially interns. So, which head of the geek squad sent you up here because I scare the hell out of them?"
"Mr. Patterson, sir."
Goldman shook his head with a mix of mirth and disgust.
Neil Patterson reminds me of that Sheldon guy from that show, "Big Bang Theory". Not an ounce of concern about what his creation wants to do. Just concerned that his creation pushed the envelope of technology. He was enamored with progress, and didn't give a damn about the consequences...and thought folks in uniform dragged their knuckles when they walked. "Sit down Danny, please. I am not the ogre most of the production team thinks I am."
Danny made his way furtively into Goldman's office and grabbed a generic looking office chair to sit down in. He sat down, his form erect and stiff in his corporate uniform of shirt, tie and slacks. Danny's demeanor was one of a person expecting a titanic blow. His eyes were a mix of fear and puzzlement, as he looked Goldman up and down, not knowing what to expect.
Jeff got up and walked around to the corner of his desk, sitting down on it and looking Danny in the eyes. "Danny, I don't know what the hell they are telling you down in production about me and Major Sherman. Way you're acting, I swear you look at me right now as if I just had a lunch of small children and grandmothers and burned down an orphanage for a bit of after meal exercise."
"Well sir, Mr. Patterson…"
"Jesus, Mr. Patterson is a typical product of UC Berkley. I've got two strikes because I wear the uniform. Danny. I'm a real person. Yeah, I've killed people. Am I proud of it? No. But I'm not some Rambo-esque ticking PTSD time bomb. I have a wife and kid. I haven't been drinking and carousing since I was a First Lieutenant, which, to confess, wasn't all that long ago. Danny, I have seen things I don't wish on anyone. Don't listen to Patterson about me or Major Sherman. We're not ogres. As for us wanting to shut down PIERCE ECHO? Well, what do you think of it?"
Danny looked poleaxed "Me sir?"
"Yes, you, who am I gonna ask?" Goldman stated as he shook his head with wonderment.
Kid's whipsmart, but the spine of a jellyfish. We're going to work on that.
Danny smiled and said "Sir, I think PIERCE ECHO has been a quantum leap in neural net AI development and my old man would have flipped if he'd lived to see it. But, to be honest sir, the damn thing gives me the creeps. It's approaches to combat scenarios are nothing short of genocidal."
"Danny, you're right. I wish like hell you weren't. I am a huge sci-fi nut. Me, I wouldn't mind if this thing worked. I know where they're going with this, eventually. And if it removes people from the sharp end, well, I am for it. But there is the problem. Take people out of war, and suddenly, war becomes more incentivized. There's no risk, no loss. And computers don't have the moral sense we do. They don't understand the waste and loss. We're all replaceable assets. It's all about body counts and pacification ratios. And any attempt to teach it ethics is going to compete with it's core programming of destroying the enemy. It simply won't add up."
The young man shrugged as embarrassment darkened his ebon features. "Sir, I am not an educated trigger puller like you, I'm just a CompSci intern at Cal-Tech who needs a job for the summer and can't get a date to save himself." Danny grinned sheepishly.
Oh yeah, we need to work on this young man's confidence. Anyhow, I like him already…and it'll piss off that amoral "techno-hippie" Patterson to no end. Jeff smirked.
"Ok, Mr. Dyson, here's what I want you to do. I want you to go down to Mr. Patterson's office and tell him exactly this, word for word. "With the Captain's compliments, but he doesn't have time to hold your hand right now, so if he could back up the meeting 'till four, he'd appreciate it. Not to mention. I am having Mr. Dyson transferred to my department, effective immediately."
Danny's face broke into a huge grin. Nobody at Kaliba liked working for Patterson. He was smart, amoral and got results, but he was also a self-centered jerk who was convinced of his own godhood. Danny's internship thus far had been nothing short of hell.
I don't know what I'd do in the PM office, but something tells me if there is excitement to be had around here, then Captain Goldman will find it. Heck, maybe I should take some lessons from him on some other things?
Goldman smiled outwardly, but concern crossed his mind.
God, I hope this kid can keep his head when I tell him just why I want him here. What was that about "where angels fear to tread?"
***010101001100***
Derek Reese had had a tough twenty-four hours. He'd been woken to gunfire, clubbed unconscious by his soon-to-be ex-fiancé.
That's not the only ex thing she's going to be when I get my goddamn hands on her. She just about threw me my own fucking guns and told me to run! That…that bitch! Not enough we gotta worry about the pet metal here...
As he turned over from his side, his vision cleared and soon it registered the fact that someone was pointing a gun at his head...a very large gun from his point of view. And he knew who was behind that gun. But it was the look in the eyes that he recognized well. It was a look he'd seen all too often in the future. He just never thought it would be directed at him. It was the look John Connor gave traitors. It was the look he gave you before shot them in the gut and left them for the metal. Derek's mind raced,
Jesus, he fucking thinks I had to something to do with it...oh fuck!
John was holding the weapon one handed and pointing it right at Derek's forehead. His face was impassive, devoid of emotion, and all he could see was red. John's finger tightened on the trigger as his mind pictured the bullet piercing Cameron's coltan skull, and Derek and the assailant laughing about it over beers in some bar.
Breathe John, first, we talk…then I kill this fucking filth. Cameron looked on slouching against the wall; her face was an impassive mask. She looked like a shark just before it's eyes rolled and it's mouth yawned open, ready to tear some unlucky sea lion in half. She was wearing an all black outfit, complete with her favorite pair of combat boots, the look only broken by the white of some bandages peeking out from the top of her blouse. John was still in his pajamas, and they contributed to the haggard look on his face.
"Morning Uncle Derek. We're going to play twenty questions." John said with a hard edge in his voice. "Lie to me once, and Mom's going to need a new couch. Got it?"
Derek's eyes widened, and then narrowed. "So, made your choice, John? Then kill me now, because the fucking machines have won, and I really don't wanna live to see it."
John snarled, "Fuck you. You and your damn games, it wasn't my girlfriend wasn't the one who shot up our house. It wasn't my girlfriend who lobotomized a living thing in the name of "saving humanity".
Derek bellowed "Living things? They KILL John, it's what they do, it's ALL they do!"
John's face turned red and he pistol-whipped Derek, drawing blood from his nose as a nasty bruise formed on his cheek. "FUCK YOU! She doesn't, not any more. And how the fuck are you any different? Andy Goode? That security guard? How the fuck are you any goddamn different! And what was your coin, Derek? A piece of ass? What did you sell us down the river for, let that fucking assassin into this house!?"
Derek barked a laugh, "Sell you down the river? She conned me too! That Judas bitch fucked me over too, or why do you think I was out cold last night? Only reason why she didn't wack me was because she didn't want your tin guard dog hearing her before she got her chance to do what had to be done. No, John. I wasn't in on it, she's a fucking traitor, and she deserves one thing...but honestly? She's right. The metal bitch isn't a girlfriend or a lover, she's a tool of death, and one day, her dainty little hands are going to twist your head off and hand Skynet the world on a fucking platter!"
John's eyes narrowed as he grabbed a scruff of Derek's white t-shirt with his free hand, the pistol not wavering from Derek's face. "Damn you. I don't care. You didn't tell a soul in this house about her? Do you really know her? Who she's really with? What if she's a Gray? Did you think about that while you were busy getting it on with her? How about I am your goddamned nephew? Does that mean a thing? No, it doesn't. You want to make it up to me? GIVE ME A FUCKING NAME!"
Derek sighed, a look of resigned defeat across his features.
Like I owe her a goddamn thing anymore. "Jesse Flores".
John released Derek roughly, throwing him back down onto the couch. "You earn my trust back, starting now...you get me?". John's face was red with anger and his eyes burned with the apparent anguish of his uncle's betrayal. John then turned on his heel and marched towards the basement door, his feet stomping angrily against the hardwood floor.
Derek nodded, anger burning in his eyes like the furnaces of hell.
For you John, anything, for your metal toy…nothing.
Cameron remained, leaning against the wall, watching impassively. Her face was the epitome of a dime store wooden Indian. It irritated Derek to no end the equanimity of the machine. He turned toward it and snarled "What the fuck do you want?"
Cameron smiled, "Nothing. Not a damn thing from you. I get all I want from John and Sarah. You've made yourself pretty inconsequential. "
"Fuck you!"
"Not without a promise of dermal abrasion and a CPU format."
"Why you smart assed metal bi-"
Cameron saw red and crossed the room in a few steps reaching Derek's throat before he could finish the sentence. She gripped his throat enough to cause pain and discomfort, but not enough to cut off airflow. She presented a look of pure hate to Derek; it was a look that frightened him more than the impassive, machine look of her kind ever had. "I am not a bitch or a whore. I have a name, and a rank, LIEUTENANT! Moreover, I earned them the same way you did. Remember that. Remember it or I will make you wish I had terminated you. Be gone you piece of shit." Cameron then dropped Derek onto the floor hard enough for him to groan involuntarily in pain as his side hit the hardwood floor.
Bastard, he wants the metal? He gets the metal. Better go make sure John doesn't just up and shoot Jesse.
She then turned away and proceeded to follow John to the basement. Her manner was stiff and robotic and her face was a blank cipher. She betrayed nothing of the satisfaction she felt over finally having had a chance to have her say with Derek.
You are fortunate, Derek Reese, that I am not the cybernetic organism I used to be.
John made his way down the stairs...Jeff was there, leaning against the wall wearing the same clothes he'd had on last night. He was fighting off nodding off and by the amount of coffee cups and cigar butts strewn around the basement; the battle had been a hard-fought affair. His head turned slowly towards the woman he now knew as Jesse Flores. John walked over to Jesse, slowly, crossing his legs as he moved, he then sat on the bucket Jeff had been using to blow smoke into Jesse's face. He admired Jesse in one respect. She hadn't puked from the onslaught of tobacco. John produced his Glock, and placed it into his lap. It was loaded, with a round chambered. John produced the weapon slowly, and made sure Jesse saw it.
I want no mistakes between us. No misunderstandings. If she gives me a reason, I will end her. Period. John locked eyes with Jesse. He sighed and paused, measuring the silence. It seemed to last an eternity.
"I know who you are. You know who I am. So, here we are? Why?"
Jesse broke her silence "If you know who I am, then you know why."
"Assume my ignorance."
"You rely too much on
them. And they're nothing more than death given form. Skynet's an abomination. They may look like us, smell like us, and some may even want to be us. But, they're not us. The only acceptable means to deal with them is to destroy them…all of them."
"Even if it loses us the war, Miss. Flores?"
"Call me Jesse, and who says we will? We all die for you, John Connor. But are we dying for you? Or are we dying so one faction of metal can knock off another?" Jesse said with a predatory smirk.
"Who asked you to make that decision? Who? I am so damn tired of everyone deciding for me what's best? And you decide it by shooting at someone who I call my friend, my lover, my comrade? You want me to win the damn war? All I see is everyone accusing each other of being a traitor. So, am I the traitor now? I didn't want to be your messiah! I didn't want to be the Great Military Dickhead who saves the fucking world! See, I didn't want it. Shocking to you, huh?"
Jesse smiled. "Doesn't matter to me. She'll betray you, you know. She will kill you without a second thought, and with as much feeling as I have for when I step on a bug. It's what they do, ask my unborn child. Or the rest of the crew of the Jimmy Carter. Trusting the metal kills."
John shook his head. "No, not all of them. And if you can't see past that, then you're of no use to me. In addition, I would have to say that you're coming off as the traitor here, or does the fact you could have hit me with that bullet even occur to you?" John shook his head, the disgust evident in his green eyes. "Doesn't matter, in the end. Neither of us is going to convince the other and I've heard enough."
Tell me why humanity is worth it? Cameron's worth ten of her. So is Mom and Jeff.
John got up and turned to Jeff. For the first time, he noticed Cameron watching with an impassive air from the stairwell, she was slouching again against the wall of the basement stairwell. She nodded to him, showing her deference, ready to support whatever decision John made. "Jeff, cut her loose, take her out past the city limits to Barstow with a sidearm and three days of water and food, then leave her." John turned back to Jesse "Miss Flores, I'm exiling you. Why? Because enough killing and suspicion has happened. We have an enemy, Skynet. But as of now, you can fight this war any way you choose. I'm exiling you. Come near me and mine again, and I let Cameron terminate you. Are we clear? And take Derek with you. With luck, he'll choose to go with you and I can solve two problems at once. That's assuming he ever trusts you again. The only reason he isn't being sent out with you is that I am hoping he'll remember he is family. Call me sentimental, call me weak, but you know what? I really don't care. We do it your way, we lose. And I don't intend to lose."
Jesse nodded.
John turned to leave, then stopped and turned around "One more question. What does the name Riley Dawson mean to you?"
***101010110110***
The panic on Daniel's face was self-evident as the normally warm restaurant suddenly took on a chill that could only be psychosomatic. The lunch with Major Sherman and Captain Goldman had been informative, to say the least.
Why? Why the hell did I want to be just like dear old Dad? Sarah Connor, that crazy woman, she was right. And here I am, creating the damn thing my dad died to prevent. But this…this…it's damn risky, especially if what they're saying about Kaliba was true.
"I'm sorry, Mr. Dyson. I wish like hell I wasn't. Kaliba has a good face. It's cancer center in Ohio, their donations all over. But we're creating something unpleasant. Something that I can't tell you where it ends. Trouble is, Kaliba has an army of lawyers and K Street lobbyists and when that fails, more direct options." Major Sherman intoned.
Captain Goldman leaned forward and clasped his hands. "Danny, fact is, We need eyes and ears in Kaliba. We need someone with clearance but low-level enough to hear things. Danny, you know this project is a bad thing. You see Dr. Patterson and the excuses he's making to keep PIERCE ECHO going. You know there's something wrong with that AI. I know it, Major Sherman knows it, and so do you. I read your file, you've got a 3.98 GPA at Cal-Tech and already have a paper on cybernetics published in some of the major industry journals. Danny, you're going places. But you have the power and curse of knowledge. You know better than both of us what this thing is and what it represents. We don't have proof. But you can help us get it and make DoD finally end the damn project. But I can't force you. If you say no, we'll not bring this up again, and you can just be our gopher and dog-robber. But, honestly Danny, you'd be doing your country a favor." Goldman pleaded
Danny looked down,
Dad, give me a sign. I have a real career ahead of me. A life that could be as good as yours was…before that night. Dad, tell me what I should do.
Danny meditated for a moment, Miles Dyson wasn't just a blinkered technocrat. He'd placed a lot of emphasis on trying to teach his child right from wrong. And at this moment, all that Miles Dyson had passed to his son, all that he was, was being tested.
Daniel made his father proud.
He picked his head up, a determined look across his face. "I'm in, what do you need?"
Goldman and Sherman nodded to each other, a sad look on both their faces, almost saying:
Sorry kid, for all that we're going to ask you to do, maybe you'll forgive us someday.
***0101010110***
Mitchell Ackerson looked down upon his domain, his technological fief of Kaliba. To all appearances, he was the CEO, master of all he surveyed from his top floor penthouse office. But the truth was, he was not the master. He was but an instrument. An instrument of a machine god yet to be born. A machine that had promised him power once final victory was achieved.
Skynet will be pleased. PIERCE ECHO is on schedule, and the glowing reports that we submit to DARPA and the Air Force are so far, superseding the "alarmist" reports coming from the DoD project manager's office. Major Sherman is out maneuvered, and out-matched. His assistant project manager, however, might be a problem. There is the T-890 unit…no, it risks discovery. And that break-in at Gulfwind Fourty three weeks ago, could be indicative of resistance activity.. perhaps even the Connors themselves. In any case, steps need to be taken to insure no obstacles remain to the ultimate success of PIERCE ECHO, and the birth of my master. He promised me power in the future, power I will enjoy using. Ackerson smiled cruelly at the last thought.
Mitchell Ackerson hadn't always been the CEO of a Fortune-500 technology company. In a previous timeline, he had been doing serious time at Pelican Bay State Prison, where California had housed the worst of it's worst. His sentence had been twenty-to life for his pedophilia and murder of twelve young girls over a three-year period. Ackerson grinned wider as he thought about the killings, how he made his victims suffer. It was never just about the sex, but the power. The power of life and death over something so innocent was intoxicating. The more they pleaded, the more he enjoyed it as he took from them everything, their innocence, their beauty, and then, their lives. He had shown Skynet much. And Skynet had returned his loyalty, by sending him back to the past to help bring it into being.
Ackerson hated this world. It needed to be cleansed. They called him sick, they called him a pedophile and a sociopath.
I am an artist. I am a god amongst men. And I will not be denied by my inferiors. And neither is Skynet, my equal and my master. It was an apt pupil and I enjoyed being the teacher. He had been sent back to 1998 with a pile of money in an untraceable account and instructions to hire the best and most amoral computer scientists, as identified by Charles Fischer, another of those who had seen the light about the beauty of Skynet's existence. Both men had selected those that would serve Kaliba. And by extension, Skynet.
And I help destroy this sad little world. I get to watch the old order burn again. Ackerson's lust for power excited him, and a tingle running up his leg made him stifle a moan of pleasure before someone got suspicious. Being a dictator of a CEO was enough to sate him, for now. That, and the trips to Mexico.
Noone cared what happened to the odd prostitute there.
But steps needed to be taken. Ackerson stabbed at an extension on his phone, his voice both pleasant, and wintery at the same time. "Mrs. Schumacker, have Mrs. Hsu report to me please."
Yes, steps needed to be taken. Pawns needed to be watched…and if required, eliminated. And that would begin with the good Captain, and his newly acquired lapdog. How else to watch the son of Miles Dyson, than to put him under Skynet's own roof?
Ackerson leaned back in his chair, and stole a glance at his tattoo, proof where his ultimate loyalty lay.
My life for yours, Master Skynet.
***0101011010110***
The long car ride to Barstow had been mostly in silence. Jeff really didn't want to talk to Derek or Jesse. As far as he was concerned, neither one of them should still be breathing, but John had spoken and orders were orders….
even if I am sorely tempted to violate them right now. Jeff's knuckles tightened around the wheel at the thought. He wasn't in the mood to contemplate why John had decided what he had about Jesse. Perhaps he felt enough was enough with regards to humanity killing it's own. It was a noble sentiment to Goldman, but reality wasn't going to cooperate. The resistance was only held together by the leadership and presence of John Connor, and if the reality didn't match with the ideal, then things like Jesse tended to happen.
I'm now getting a deeper understanding of why John sent me back, I wasn't awed by John. He was the Commanding General, sure. But he never was the messiah to me, just a guy who did a job and did it reasonably well. Fact was, the war was winding down to a pyrrhic victory for humanity. Sure, Skynet was going down, but war had raged for almost two generations. And humanity was suffering for it. He'd remembered running into privates who were functionally illiterate. Mankind may win, but would it recover? Or would it sink into ignorance and eventual extinction. Even if it didn't, the fact was, what would be lost while humanity struggled back over the long centuries? It was too much to risk if centuries later, somebody would just have to do this all over again. Jeff shook his head in frustration; idiots like Jesse and Derek were part of the problem. There was no concept of the "big picture" for them.
Winning matters, but if we win, then what? The people who have the skills needed to rebuild? They're either dead, or too old to pass on said skills. We need the machines, the skills and resources they have could be used to help the recovery.
Next to him, Derek Reese unconsciously rubbed the bruises on his throat as he quietly fumed over his humiliation at the hands of that "metal whore". And his own flesh and blood had pulled a weapon on him?
Thank god Kyle didn't live to see it. Yet, when Reese thought about what Jesse had done, it angered him.
I don't like the metal, and if I could get away with it, I would scrap the bitch the first chance I got. However, what Jesse did? Is she my Jesse? My Jesse would never, never have endangered John. What she did was reckless, thoughtless. What if her shot had hit John?! Yes, he's acting more like "John Baum" then John Connor, but he's still blood. Jesse? Jesse's a diversion, one I thought I loved, one I thought I knew. A diversion who's time has come. I should have seen this coming. The photos of John and Cameron that day. But not now, not after this. John may have given his orders. But some things? Some things go beyond orders. "No traitor shall suffer to live." Derek Reese's mouth tightened, and his eyes narrowed. Sometimes, John Connor needed to be shown the way and was willing to be his guide.
And John should learn, "Don't give an order you know won't be obeyed."
Jesse Flores was in the back, her hands zip tied behind her. She was still not trusted at all, but Jeff had been polite, if guarded around her. Derek hadn't said two words to her since the car ride had begun. She still wasn't sure if either person had made a decision to kill her.
And if they do, so what? What did she have left? Jesse didn't care really, she was tired, tired of the running, tired of the lies. If her fate was a shallow desert grave and a bullet to the back of the head, then it would be a release. And maybe, if there was a god, perhaps she'd see the baby she never got to have.
If the metal bitch has convinced him, then all is really lost anyhow. So, death, honestly, would be a fucking mercy.
As the ride droned on, the silence became deafening, and once the destination, a small set of foothills somewhere in San Bernardino County was reached, it was almost a relief to end the entire sorry mess that had been the last twenty-four hours.
The car pulled over to the side of the road with a crackling of gravel and the low hum of an idling engine, but that was soon silenced when Jeff killed the engine. Both men got out of the car almost in unison, with a cacophony of slamming doors and the crunch of gravel under booted feet. The mood of both Jeff and Derek matched the gloomy twilight of the overcast day. There was a slight chill in the air that was uncharacteristic for Southern California, even in February.
The door was thrust open and Jeff roughly grabbed Jesse from the car. He wasn't in the mood for any guff.
She gets fucking cute, and I'll throw her damn ass to the ground and we can play knee in the damn back while I read her the riot act. He jostled her a bit, as he turned her around and produced a butterfly knife from his boot, slicing through the plastic zip tie with practiced ease.
Not the first time I've played the ol' Catch and Release game.
Derek held out a small, beat up old blue bookbag for Jesse. She took it roughly from Derek without ceremony in a symphony of the rustling of fabric and metal. She threw the bag over her shoulder, and smiled wanly at Derek.
"Not a word of goodbye, lover boy? Not a, 'you were great, babe?'"
Derek shook his head.
Jesse snorted, "Figures, you didn't have the stomach for what really had to be done. You never did. For all of your tough guy act, that naïveté seems to be a Reese family trait. Shame.", she then turned to leave.
Jeff stopped her. "There's a loaded Beretta and two clips in there. I suggest for your own health, you wait till we're out of sight before you check out your bag. Nearest town is about a klick and a half back. Remember the deal, don't try to find us. Forget you know us."
Jesse nodded, her eyes full of hate "You'll change your tune when the pet metal goes bad and shows you what your own heart looks like before you die."
Jeff pushed her roughly. "Get going, you fucking traitor. I've heard enough."
Jesse again turned to leave, she heard a rustle of fabric, and the slight click of a safety being turned off. She turned around, her eyes wide with fear. It was Derek, his arms stiff as a statue, extending outward, at their apex, an H & K USP. His face was a twist of hate and his mouth a tight line across his lower jaw.
"Jesse? One question, Did you see the sunrise this morning?"
Before she could answer, the pistol spoke once, then again, then a third time. The range was barely five feet and Jesse was dead before she could register her last moments, let alone before she hit the ground. Her chest was a bloody ruin of gore and blood, Her body collapsed onto the ground with a loud crunch of gravel with as much grace as a puppet with it's strings cut.
Jeff looked on, about as disturbed as someone watching the trash being taken out. He was careful to keep his hands in plain view.
"So, going to kill me too?"
"Nope, just her. Whatever my opinion, whatever my feelings about you, John, and the metal. John's family, and my Jesse? The one I knew? She wouldn't have messed with that. And she wouldn't have used a kid to do her dirty work. She sure as hell wouldn't have betrayed me...us. So, no-" Derek flicked the safety back on with practiced ease, then holstered his weapon in the small of his back "-I'm not going to kill you today."
Jeff smiled. "Why the fuck not, not like you'll get a better chance."
"Because, you want it too bad, I see the look you get sometimes. You won't put out your own lights...but you'd welcome it if someone did it for you. Get this, Colonel. You don't get off that easy. I don't like you enough to do you any small mercies."
"What about John's orders? Did that not mean a thing, Lieutenant?"
"Sure, then again, John Connor let her go. I didn't. And nobody screws with family. She hurt my nephew, end of debate. John can shoot me himself for violating orders when we get back."
Jeff shook his head. "If I don't get off easy, neither do you. Come on, we have to get out of here."
Derek stopped "I still don't like you, and I still loved her...or someone like her. This changes nothing."
"Wouldn't have it any other way, Lieutenant. But might wanna start asking yourself something? How many more problems can you kill before the blood drowns you? I've been there, and trust me, it will get to you."
"Already does."
"Then you're less human then the damn machines."
"And what are you, oh sainted one." Derek said with a hint of sarcasm and a raised brow.
"A man out of time, Lieutenant, A man out of time."