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Old December 24 2008, 05:20 AM   #16
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Re: Terminator: Identity Crisis

Admiral_Young wrote: View Post
WOW...I'm going to have to print this out and read this over the holidays. Its novel quality NX! Smallville not inspire you as much as TSCC seems to have? LOL
Smallville has inspired me, but the Smallville/Superman universe is more extensively chronicled. With the Terminator series there are more advantages and avenues to be explored. Though - I had not known about this until it was delivered to me from a friend for Christmas this morning - there is a Superman Vs The Terminator comic book miniseries.

I may eventually do a Smallville one. Though I may wait until the series ends for that. More advantages
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Old December 24 2008, 05:23 AM   #17
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Re: Terminator: Identity Crisis

zephramc wrote: View Post
Admiral_Young wrote: View Post
WOW...I'm going to have to print this out and read this over the holidays. Its novel quality NX! ...
Agreed!

Hurry up with the next chapters NX. C'mon who's more important? Your brother whom you've not seen in months or us anonymous posters on TrekBBS?

All kidding aside, I'm glad that your brother's safe and home with family for this Christmas (or whatever holiday you celebrate)!

Happy Holidays!
I'm hoping to have the next sections up within the next 24 hours. Plenty more chapters will be coming.
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Old December 24 2008, 08:34 AM   #18
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Re: Terminator: Identity Crisis

Earl Wise was excited. He’d always been a fan of the comic book character Batman and the films that followed. Earl had the toys (some duplicates because of wear to the previous from hours of play), the video games, and even some of the role play pieces that let him dress as the Dark Knight for adventures fighting the villains of Gotham City. His Father had been accepting of his fascination with the Dark Knight Detective, but his mother always had looked down upon it as something beneath their family. They had some interesting fights around the dinner table, but there was always real love between them.

Living in Death Valley made it hard on him, but that was where their family’s work was. Earl’s father was a geologist working on an assignment in the Valley. His mother was a teacher who spent her days reciting to him the necessities of a good education. Earl rarely saw his father. They made the occasional nature walk up into the Valley to gather specimens for his father’s studies, and today had been one of those days. It had been over one hundred and fifteen degrees, but they had spent real time together which was rarer and rarer. Earl and his father talked about a lot of things. They talked about how the floor of the Valley would be filled with lovely flowers in the spring. The two watched a Kits Fox chase a rabbit only to have its quarry taken away by an errant police cruiser rushing toward home. It had been hard on Earl to see that, but somehow his father’s presence consoled him. When they returned home Earl’s father delivered to him a Christmas gift a day early: a copy of The Dark Knight he’d picked up while in down.

Despite their hard day and the remaining four hundred plus days left, the Wise family decided to sit down and watch the film together for what seemed like the first time since they arrived here. While they were a loving family if you knew them you could tell they were having trouble with this assignment. While Earl’s father (Arnold) had been enjoying their time here, his mother (Diane) had hated every moment of it. They kept it hidden from Earl, but he could sense it. That made the film all the more important. So they sat and watched. Popcorn was passed between them and smiles grew on their faces not because of the film rather because they were together.

As the Joker detonated Gotham General on the screen Earl began to feel sick to his stomach. Beads of sweat began to poor down his forehead and the taste of bile began to form in his throat. It wasn’t because of the movie or the appearance of Harvey Two-Face, it was something else. The screen began to distort due to the glow from a beam of white light flashing in the outside. The sound of a car approaching assaulted his eardrums, Earl’s eyes darting to the door. Something was wrong. He turned his head back toward the screen only to see the image begin to distort into glowing golden bubbles. From behind he heard his mother’s voice.

“What’s the matter baby?” The lyrical voice of Earl’s mother interrupted his feelings. He turned toward her as she finished. “You feel okay?”

What Earl saw was more haunting than anything he could have imagined. His mother sat next to him with her body covered in the red and orange glow of fire. It ate away at her, digging into her skin and muscles. His father was in the same state. Both sat perfectly still staring at him and watching, Earl doing the same back. When it was over they fell to the floor of the burning camper. Their bodies were exact replicas of what was Harvey Two-Face’s face. Then the fires stopped and where his parents lay became only a stack of bones flung on the ground.

Wise’s eyes looked to the door of the Camper and saw standing there the demonic endoskeleton of the T-900 that had captured him in the remnants of Los Angeles. With incredible speed it reached forward and clasped its vise like grip around Earl’s throat. It lifted him from where he stood and extended its metal arm outward and above. The beautifully nauseating smile that the skull wore by design resonating in his eyes as it stared him down.

A mechanized voice came, “You are terminated.” It squeezed against Earl’s neck and pain seared through the young man’s body. Blood began to shoot from what had once been his neck, bones snapped beneath his skin so loud that they could be heard for what seemed like miles. One point eight seconds and Earl’s head had been severed from his body. The Machine tossed it aside like a kid tossing his trash into a bin and walked away never looking back.

Earl shot up like a bullet from a gun and went into a defensive posture as he regained his bearings. Taking in the vista surrounding him it only took a few seconds for his brain to remind him that he was safely inside the secured exam room on the Aircraft Carrier Enterprise. In the back of his head though he kept telling himself that no one was ever safe. ‘Hang in their baby’ may have been the Resistance’s official motto, but ‘No one is ever safe’ were the words they lived by. In his head he kept reminding himself about that fact.

Even in the Eden of the Enterprise. From what the wall clock said he’d been aboard this salvation for only a few hours and still they hadn’t told him much of anything about anything important. Still Earl hadn’t been able to see the rest of his team since they woke him. Major Young, Captain Luna, Doctor Fields, even the Tinny had been kept from him. The Doctor, Fischer, had said that they were being held in quarantine just like he was, but that shouldn’t have prevented them from seeing one another now would it? If any of them had anything wouldn’t all of them? Well except the Tin Can, he had the advantage of being impervious to disease of all forms.

Lucky Bastard.

New Resistance soldier Earl Wise thought about calling for Doctor Fischer to see if he could give him something to help him sleep and hopefully not to dream. Looking at the clock again though, Earl knew that the Doctor would be along soon enough on his usual rounds. Ever two hours or so they came in to check on him regardless of if he was sleeping or not. Not that Earl wanted to sleep. Every time he did anymore he had dreams like that. All of his dreams this night had taken his proudest, happiest memories and somehow perverted them into something sickening. Wise didn’t want that anymore.

Getting a glass of water he downed it in one quick drink. Looking at the entertainment console on the desk, the quarantined man thought about getting into some of the more risqué programs that were inside the database. His eyes slid between the clock and the door reminding him of the coming Doctor. Almost as if he were psychic the doors changed to transparent and slid apart.

“How’s our patient?” Inquired the overly cheerful Charles Fischer as he stepped over the threshold into the room. “Our monitors said you had some increased adrenaline production a moment or two ago.”

“Big brother watching again?” Wise got another glass of water. “Do you always monitor your guests like that?”


Fischer nodded solemnly, “Only those in quarantine. Don’t worry, when its over you’ll be allowed into the general population and the monitoring will stop. I suppose I should have warned you about that earlier. It would have saved you some attention.”

A quick glance at the entertainment pack made him fill with embarrassment – something he hadn’t been in a long time. “I’m sorry. I didn’t think anyone was watching.”

“No doubt,” he dismissed it wave of his hand. “We all have urges at times. My medical team consists of Doctors and a Psychologist; we all understand basic human nature. It’s perfectly natural. Besides its nothing that my people haven’t seen before – remember we did do a full physical on you when you arrived.”

“Doc I would prefer not to discuss this,” he was still pretty uncomfortable by it all. “While it’s perfectly natural to you to me it isn’t something that we discuss or do in public.”

Charles nodded, “I understand. So no problems to report? Any trouble sleeping?”

“Just the standard nightmares, but I’m used to them.” The fact that cherished memories were being distorted into horrifying misrepresentations of past events wasn’t something to be discussed right now. Best to keep things somewhat hidden. “I don’t want anything to help me sleep though. I like to be at my best.”

“I know how you feel. Sedatives can be tricky things and can be a little too much sometimes. While the Machines haven’t come here in a long time I can understand your apprehension not to be at the ready. Though I’ll leave you a couple of pills incase you change your mind.” The Doctor set the pills down on the countertop. “If you decide you want to talk you know I’m here don’t you?”

“I would prefer not to,” Wise answered, “but there is something I’d like.”

Charles looked at him, “What’s that?”

The words formed slowly and his tongue felt like it was combating tar when speaking. What was wrong with him? “Can you… I mean… can you let me see my friends? Any of them? The Major, the Doctor, Captain Luna, even the damned Clanker that I wanted to see destroyed and in a smoking ruin when I first met it. I’m tired of being trapped inside these four walls with no one to talk to and nothing to do. I’m sure you know what I mean.”

The Doctor wrote something down on a clipboard he was carrying. “I’m sorry but not yet. They’re still in quarantine themselves. Only a day and a few more hours and I’ll let you go join them. If it makes you feel better they’re making similar requests. You been together long?”

“No I’m afraid I only just met them a few days ago. I was a new transplant into their team. They rescued me after the death of my former team in the sewers. A hydrobot got through our defenses and did some damage. I was the only survivor of a group like yours just lacking the warship to hide on. I joined the Resistance because it was my only option left.”

“Well you have other options now,” explained the Doctor as he tucked his clipboard under his shoulder. “Our Captain has said that you can remain here – you all can – when this is over. We have a security detachment that could use a few able bodied members. Our security chief could use a man of your abilities and we have a couple of young ladies aboard that you would like.”

Earl laughed, “You know how to tempt a man, don’t you?”

“I don’t have an apple or anything for a pretty lady to hand you asking you to stay. But consider it. You’ll like it here.” Charles slid the clipboard through the dispenser. “We have a lot of fun and the Enterprise is pretty safe.”

“No one is ever safe,” Private Wise mumbled below his breath.

Fischer crossed his arms over the pure white lab coat and leaned against the far wall next to the frost colored windows. “Why is that, Mister Wise? Resistance paradigm not withstanding why do you think that?”

“The world we live in is filled with tin cans that want us dead. I think I have reason to be fearful and believe that no one is ever safe.” His eyes looked at the pills in the small container, “How do I know you’re not a Skin Job?”

Charles was nonplussed, “Want to hit me? Shoot me with a gun and see if I fall over dead? Why are you still so unconvinced?”

“You mentioned an apple and I called this place Eden. You can’t ignore the similarities of the story. Salvation and rest are things that come in limited qualities in this reality of ours and you try to serve them up on a platter. It’s hard not to expect me to challenge your little Garden isn’t it?”

“Given what you’ve seen I’m not surprised by what you say and have mentioned. For all you know we’re torturing your friends, using you for some sort of experiment, and Trip Eights as the Resistance call them are watching through this privacy windows. Where’s the logic in that I ask? Why would anyone help the very things that are trying their damndest to kill us all? Who in their right mind would be so willing to help those damn beasts? Do I look like a collaborator to you? Some pencil pushing whack job who would sell his soul? You offend me, Mister Wise.”

Earl felt sick to his stomach. All that the Doctor, so far, had tried to do was help. He took a deep breath and looked at the man, approaching closer to him. Earl’s eyes met with the Doctors. Something his father had told him years ago was that if you were going to say something and you truly meant what you were going to say you had to look a man in the eye to say it. Earl meant what he was going to say.

“I am sorry, Doctor, I really am. I didn’t mean to imply anything about you or call you a Grey. Life’s been tough on me and I see everyone as a potential threat to me and my safety. Even the Resistance at times, including John Connor himself. Not that I’d act on trying to kill him, but I know people who are considering it inside his own upper echelons. One is Brutus to his Caesar if you get the Shakespearean analogy. Knowing this makes it hard for me to trust anyone.”

Fischer was somewhat surprised from the expression that played over his face. The Doctor became clinical again and regained the stone faced appearance he’d held only moments prior. “I accept your apology, Private. Get some rest and I’ll talk to the Security Chief of the base and see about adding you to our team. Maybe the best thing for you is to stay here. Get away from the Resistance; get away from the horrors that were your life on dry land. If you stay with them for much longer I fear that your safety, your health, may come into question.”

“Maybe that’s the best choice,” The Resistance Soldier looked around the alien looking room filled with technology that made him feel like a prisoner, yet somewhat freer than ever. “Thank you, Doctor. Thank you for everything.”

“It’s my job to help.” Charles pulled his keycard from his inner pocket and slid it through the card reader. “You have a good night, what’s left of it, and I’ll see you again in two hours or so.”

Earl nodded and watched the man leave the room. He took a deep breath as the wall reformed into the hazy appearance that obstructed the younger man’s view of what was outside those four walls of the medical isolation chamber. For a moment he considered the offer that was made, but knew that the Resistance would need his help. Especially if it was true that Brutus planned to kill Caesar on the ides of March yet again. My how Shakespeare came into play even in this world! Earth had become one of his tragedies.
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Old December 24 2008, 11:24 PM   #19
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Re: Terminator: Identity Crisis

Due to the holidays I will probably not be updating with the next section until Friday. It'll be worth the wait though .
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Old December 27 2008, 06:42 AM   #20
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Re: Terminator: Identity Crisis

I know that I promised Friday, but I'll have the next section up during the day on Saturday. Lack of time because of the holidays and my brothers return have kept me from writing out the next section, but I think that the ideas I have in my head will be enjoyed. A fan favorite from T:TSCC will be appearing.

The next section has been posted.

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Old December 27 2008, 10:05 AM   #21
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Re: Terminator: Identity Crisis

Private Maxwell Fahey wasn’t stupid, but he wasn’t a genius either. Growing up in a world dominated by machines you quickly learned what it took to survive and in this world Darwin’s survival of the fittest took on a whole new meaning. Though it was nearly impossible to stay fit when your idea of a four star meal was rat meat soup. Fahey was only an infant when the hellfire struck the Earth, but the searing light and fires had left him a permanent reminder. A neighbor family had found him in the rubble of the Fahey family home and raised him as one of their own. Why they had done it was always a mystery. Perhaps they took pity on him because of his youth, or maybe it was because his parents were killed. Max never bothered to ask why they did it. In a tale as old as time in this world his surrogate family was killed by the machine in the raid on Oregon Base.

Max hadn’t been there to help them and blamed himself for their deaths. For retribution Private Fahey joined the Resistance. While in boot camp things didn’t go so well. Maxwell was more inclined to be a front line fighter according to the tests that the Resistance administered. Still though he felt he could have handled the career of a Resistance Officer and not been stuck in the noncommissioned personnel pool like one of the Dims that TechCOM adopted. A good many in the Resistance came to find him to be a sort of good luck charm though. As long as he screwed up that may have meant that the others wouldn’t. It was a cosmic joke to put him and Davis both out here to watch the frontlines of Hammerhead. Which would screw up worse? There was a betting pool going on below decks.

But Maxwell wasn’t as stupid as people thought especially when it came to survival. When Rex started to bark he had his weapon ready in the blink of an eye. The AP50 was a nice little toy to have in the sandbox when metal was around. It may have been the standard issue sidearm but there was a reason for that. Namely the 50 caliber bullets made from depleted uranium that could rip into the bodies of the endos like a knife going into butter. A little older but still good in a fire fight, his M-16A1 assault rifle was ready if worse came to worse. There was only one real way to get to Hammerhead and that was through Death Alley. He hoped that Decker had a clear line of sight as he slid open the shutter to take a peek outside.

The Elephant Graveyard was as disturbing as always. No matter how many times you saw it it still chilled you to your very soul. The burnt out cars and trucks that had been locked in traffic as the bombs exploded above had been moved by Resistance workers to form a mini maze to give a little bit more protection to give the metal some trouble when trying to get in. Even for Resistance soldiers the maze could be hellish to pass through. The bodies of the previous generation had been removed and given a proper burial at great risk to the Resistance forces. In their place were the remnants of the endoskeletons that had tried to invade previously - another warning to the mechanical monsters. As the dust began to scatter in the air, two figures appeared out of no where and went forward side by side. Using the rangefinder he’d been given he zoomed in on the two figures. The first was definitely a TripEight and looked like the one assigned to Major Young’s team when she went out. That meant nothing. There were hundreds of that skin type running around. Then a woman appeared next to the evil brute. She was wearing what looked like a standard Resistance uniform, but that again meant nothing. Skynet was smart and knew to make the battle droids infiltrate by appearing like brothers and sisters in arms. He recognized this one: it was Major Young.

Before he could think he ran over to the door to release it for the Major’s return to the base. Flinging the door open the young noncom ran out of the base’s protective confines and looked around. He felt a sting against the back of his head and turned in time to see Captain Vance standing there staring him down. The Commanding Officer of Hammerhead looked like he could eat metal for breakfast and Private Fahey was the appetizer.

“What the hell do you think you’re doing? We have procedures and codes about opening that door and you left it open like it was a goddamn twentieth century! You sure you’re not a dim because that was a dim thing to do. Keep doing stupid things like that and you’ll find yourself dead.”

Maxwell pointed at the two figures coming closer, “I opened the door for them, Sir.”

“I don’t care if you opened the door for Connor himself,” Captain Vance slammed his jaw shut as he saw the woman and man come into the light. He shut up, “Major Young, William?”

The skinjob with masculine programming remained stone faced and stood in what was said to be guard mode next to Major Young. Her garments looked no worse for wear, but she seemed to have bruises covering her face and her hair was messed up. The damn metal bastard was perfectly normal from head to toe from what they could tell. Did those things ever not look like they were straight off the assembly line? Allison extended a hand to shake the Captain’s.

“It is good to see you again, Captain,” said the leader of the missing squad. “I would love to stay and chat but I think that we need to get indoors before any endos come looking for us. My squad was attacked by a Harvester and a team of new Series 900 battle units twenty something miles from here. I think we lost them, but the rest of my team was killed. General Connor needs to be briefed.”

Vance nodded in agreement, “No argument here.” The Resistance Captain motioned for his superior to step inside Hammerhead first and took up position behind the conscripted infiltrator. From inside Rex kept barking.

“We sent out a search team for your team over a week ago and they never found you. I know that John has been especially worried,” Interrupted Maxwell. It was an assumption based upon his knowledge of Connor and Young’s relationship, but it wasn’t that much of a stretch.

“John worries too much,” answered Allison.

“We were all worried about you, Major,” chimed in Vance. The Captain looked at William, “We couldn’t have cared less about you though.”

The cybernetic organism’s expression remained static. “Your opinion on my status is irrelevant. We must proceed into the base. Major Young requires rest following our fleeing of the Skynet strike group. We must also make our report to General Connor.”

“Always about work with you isn’t it?” Taunted Josh surprised that the robot had responded. The dog growled and snarled as it looked at both Major Young and William.

“It has a point,” replied Allison Young. “I must report to John.”

Fahey tried to calm down Rex by petting him, “I don’t see why we should delay you any longer. Let’s get moving – if Rex here will ever calm down.”

“The seeker unit could attract Skynet attention if the Series 900 endoskeletons continued behind us. I recommend termination.”

“You would,” mumbled Max. “You and your kind hate ‘seeker units’ like Rex here.”

“While I hate to agree with metal I have to agree again. It could attract attention from machines nearby if it does not stop soon.” Major Young looked at Captain Vance, “Captain, can we proceed?”

Josh Vance nodded in approval of Major Young’s request, but he was somewhat perplexed by her suggestion of killing Rex. All of them knew that the machines were detected by dogs and dogs were in short supply these days. The Captain looked at her wrist, “I’ll need to see your arm, Major.”

“What for?”

“Your bracelet,” Private Fahey answered her. “We need to check it before we can let you in. Surely you remember the protocol. Same for you Tin Can.”

The metal in their presence turned his head toward the younger private, “I am afraid that our bracelets were lost during hand to hand combat with the Series 900 endoskeletons in the sewer system. We do not have them.”

“Surely you can override and allow us entry,” pleaded Young. “The bracelet was only a gift from my sister.”

“Gold is very rare,” Josh said staring right at the Major’s brown eyes. “And what about the sentimental value for you? It was the last thing that your sister gave you before she died, Major.”

Allison stared back at him with a tears forming in her eyes, “I know that! We were so worried about getting back that I.”

The Captain undid the safety and pointed his AP50 at the Major’s head. “The bracelet was sterling silver. Who…” He didn’t get a chance to finish his sentence. In the span of a second Major Young’s hand had slammed upward and grabbed the barrel of the auto pistol and pulled it from the Captain’s hand in a fluidic motion. Crimson red blood dripped from the wound where she had ripped his trigger finger off with the gun. Captain Vance cradled his hand and stared down at the wound as blood rushed outward.

“Metal!” Max screamed as he brought the gun up toward the TripEight and pointed it directly at the robot’s head. With the grace of a dancer moving to the melody of Chopin’s Nocturne in C Minor Major Young had spun around and taken the gun from the enlisted soldier. She tossed it to William who caught it one handed and pointed it directly at the noncom. He stood there dumbfounded staring down the barrel of his weapon.

Vance stared up at what looked like his Commanding Officer, “Zombie bitch.”

“Incorrect,” she replied coldly. “The correct term is Metal Bitch.” She pulled the trigger and the depleted uranium shell erupted outward from the gun and slammed against the soft skin between Josh Vance’s eyes. It ripped through him and impacted the wall on the other side. The blood spilled outward like a flood as the infiltrator turned and pointed her gun at the Private who was cradling his dog. It growled and barked at them as if pleading for help.

Allison turned her head toward her companion, “You may terminate the human and the seeker unit, Cromartie. Then we shall proceed to our target.”

“Understood.” Two more bullets cut through the still air.

As the humans and their animal lay dead at their feet, the two Skynet Infiltrators carried on with the next phase of their mission. Despite their status as the underdogs in the conflict, the humans had proven themselves to be adept at weapon construction and defensive planning. That was more than apparent when it came to humanity’s homes. Resistance bases had incredible security arrays and Hammerhead was no exception. While only a forward outpost, it had direct connection to John Connor’s personal outpost: the Kansas Bunker. That made it a fortress.

“I have detected human communications,” informed Cromartie. “The humans have been alerted to our presence. They are deploying squadrons to attack us.”

“As was expected,” said the lead machine as she pulled the circuitry housing off of the wall panel housing the retinal scanners. “Running bypass. Contact Skynet, inform it of the necessity of the bracelets if we fail.” Her fingers manipulated the various wires and circuit boards that had been hidden behind the wall. The machine had experience with the technology because of her Skynet training. Most of it was based upon the reengineered components of her fallen cohorts. The machine completed her rewiring and stepped up to the scanner. It had overridden the numeric code, but the retinal scan was still required. A blue beam shot out from the scanner and went even with her brow. As the beams lowered her eyes turned electric blue; interfacing with and altering the perception of the retinal scan. A series of beeps came from the computer console and a red light turned green. The sound of the servomotors behind the wall releasing could be heard by her advanced sensors. With a loud sigh the doors slid apart allowing the two machines entry into the heart of the human’s defenses.

Lifting their weapons they proceeded inward on their mission. At the landing they met their first taste of human resistance. A four man team of Resistance soldiers were in a staggered formation hidden behind wall braces. Each was armed with an AR510 assault rifle that they had pointed directly at one of the machines (two on each). When the soldiers their target though it gave the machines a momentary advantage against their enemies. As they stood dumbstruck staring at Major Young, the two tin cans pulled the triggers of their AP50s releasing the devastating payload into the chests of their enemies. The humans flew back with the repeating impacts against their bodies and died seconds later.

Cromartie looked to his counterpart, “We must now separate to perform our assignments.”

“Agreed,” answered the feminine programmed battle unit. “Our databases have full maps of his facility programmed into them thanks to your previous life. Proceed to the time displacement chamber and go back to carry out your assassination mission of John and Sarah Connor. I will proceed to find Connor in this time and execute him.”

“Command confirmed,” the skinjob started down one hallway while Allison Young down the other. Neither of the machines would stop, ever, until John Connor was dead or they were.
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Old December 29 2008, 07:57 AM   #22
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Re: Terminator: Identity Crisis

I just wanted to let everyone know that I'm fine tuning the next section of the story and I intend to post it on Monday. I hope everyone enjoyed the appearance of a certain fan favorite.
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Old December 30 2008, 02:20 AM   #23
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Re: Terminator: Identity Crisis

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Old December 31 2008, 05:10 AM   #24
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Re: Terminator: Identity Crisis

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For those who were unable to watch the YouTube clip I present to you the section in written form:


Allison Young was in the dark. For years she had thought herself to have been a learned woman who was over the demons from her past. She was a Major in the Human Resistance, a leader intent on smashing as many machines as she possibly could. Ever since the darkest day of her life – Judgment Day – she had lived with a singular purpose of raging against the machines that had oppressed them. Her own thoughts and feelings, memories of past pain had been pushed aside to make her into a soldier that could take on the forces of Skynet and win. In many respects she had become what she had hated all along. Now all of that had changed.

The pseudo therapy of the machines had unlocked the doorways of her subconscious and allowed her access to secrets she had learned to keep even from herself. Her family her friends, each and every one of them were locked inside the rooms of her memory. Allison sat here in her dark cell aboard the Skynet prison ship Enterprise remembering everything that she had seen and heard from ages past. In a futile move she tried to run from them again. During a session with the machine she ran passed it and through the corridors of the rusted and deteriorating Carrier. Alarms cried out drawing the machines to her. She saw others in cages but knew they were beyond help. Right now she had to survive. Allison had to warn the Resistance. She had to warn John. That was her mission now. The Resistance Major ran across the flight deck looking for a way off, only to find no gangplank or means of escape. There was only one option. She jumped. If luck were on her side she would die in the attempt, or maybe even escape to Kansas.

Luck wasn’t on her side. They captured her again in an ancient net designed for this very purpose. A Tin Can – an older 600 series – dragged her back to her cell and locked her away in the room with her interrogator. The infiltrator revealed itself to her; the demon becoming a mirror image. It told her how special she was and talked about her hair. Then it asked for the impossible. It asked how to get to Kansas (claiming to be a diplomat). Allison told – neglecting one key fact. The pass key, the bracelet she wore on her left hand. It thought it was a family memento. It was stupid and that would be its undoing.

The darkness was instantly replaced by a blinding light. Before her dressed in black and wearing a purple jacket stood the infiltrator wearing an Allison mask. Major Young stared at her as the blood crusted over in the hair the machine had complimented not long ago. It couldn’t have been the same one as before. Kansas Bunker was over two hundred miles from here. It couldn’t be back already. It had to be another one. It was the only thing that made sense. Allison stared down at the barcode tattoo that the machines had given her as a memento of her time as a prisoner. She wouldn’t let herself be a puppet for this machine. The fighter had to return. Allison needed to box her memories once again.

A replica of her voice cut through the quiet in a disturbing monotone, “You lied to me.”

Something inside the human stirred. Flashes of her mother and father on her birthday in Griffith Park flashed. It was a happy memory, but Allison couldn’t afford it. To fight she imagined the worst possible moment. Judgment Day returned and engulfed her parents in the nuclear twilight. Allison looked up from her seat and let the light burn her retinas, “I told you where the camp was.”

The machine didn’t move an inch nor did its tone change. “You told me that your sister gave you the bracelet.”

In opposition to the machines questioning Major Young returned. Like a dog curious about something she pivoted her head but kept her eyes locked at the machine in the room. “What does that have to do with anything?” Her tone was filled with bitterness and spite. If it were tangible it could be cut with a knife.

The skin job with her face stepped forward in perfectly human steps modeled on Allison’s own muscle movements. It walked right to the table’s edge and stood in the light – forming a haunting halo around the machine’s head. The tin can lifted its hand up toward her face revealing its incriminating cargo. It gently rubbed them before Allison’s eyes.

“We found these on some of your friends,” five bracelets fell from her hand and smacked against the table. The machine stared at them with detachment as her eyes returned to Allison’s. It mimicked Allison’s earlier head pivot as it continued its probing. “Why are you all wearing them?” Allison could only stare at the bloodied bracelets. “It has something to do with the Connor Camp.” The last part was a damning statement.

“NO!” Major Young yelled in defiance. It was a lie but a genuine cry of sorrow. If the machine had deduced it then that meant that it would be going, and if they could replicate the last human defense they could take down everyone. General Mason, Perry, John. The demon with her face would kill them all. She kept shaking her head and mouthing, “No.”

The machine stayed perfectly still staring down at her like a hawk ready to land on its evening supper. Inside its computerized brain Allison knew what was going on. Binary codes were scrolling rapidly through numbers, scenarios, calculating the meaning. It took moments until the skin job said what it knew to be true.

“A pass...” Allison felt as if the machine had hit her in the stomach with all the force it could muster. Like a frightened dog she looked up into the machines synthetic eyes – her eyes – the machine digging deeper. “… to get into the camp.” In continued deadpan, “You were going to send me there without it. They would have known what I was.”

Allison cocked her head again in rebellion. It was over, it was all over. It knew everything. With incredible speed it moved forward and grabbed her neck one handed. It lifted her upward without breaking a single sweat and pulled her close. Their noses were separated by mere inches. Major Young had served too long in this war and knew what was coming. Where others would be in prayer, to her death had come a long time ago. She was like the zombies that Skynet used, but it happened years ago. She’d become a zombie to the Resistance and let it blind her.

“You lied to me.”

It was getting harder and harder to breathe a single breath. The skinjob moved her around with incredible grace without even showing any difficulties. Allison didn’t care. Her thoughts were still on everything that had happened. Images from her long life flashed once more in rapid fire. Her parents, her birthday, the kid on the bike, judgment day, Haven, John, all before her. Memories of John lingered longer than they should. Her brain was crying for more air, but all she could do was deliver one last blow against the machine.

With a gasp, “I’ll never help you get to John Connor.” In a split second as she stared into the cold, heartless eyes, she understood everything. The mission was never about a Skynet supply line. It was about this machine. The Infiltrator was right. Allison Young was special and she was chosen. John Connor had built an army and now he was supplying that army with enemies forced into his allegiance. The machines had been going back in time – Allison had seen it with her own eyes. This was one of them. This was the one he’d called Cameron.

Cameron snapped her neck and Allison fell to the deck.

C715.P ripped the bracelet from Allison Young‘s lifeless corpse and attached it to her own. It watched her for a moment and answered her dying threat, “You already did.” It turned and walked out of the room to allow an Auto Pallette a chance to clean up. Cameron had a mission and her mission was death.
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Old January 1 2009, 07:47 PM   #25
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Re: Terminator: Identity Crisis

The TripEight spun around in a sharp arc and brought its closed fist down in a rapid strike that would kill a human being without a problem. Its flesh covered hand met more human flesh that, in an incredible display of strength, grabbed the machine in a vise like grip and spun him away. The skin job’s computerized processors calculated every servomotor movement in the blink of an eye in order to stabilize itself before it fell to the deck of the Enterprise. A metal hand slammed against the flexible flooring of the gymnasium and ripped right through it to the steel below. The machine’s head pivoted upward and looked at its target with an impassive stare. Red eyes flashed behind green eyes.

Alexander Stone stalked around the infiltrator watching the machine as it reoriented itself. So far he could have landed no less than three destructive moves that would have brought the Tin Can to its mechanical knees but that would have ended his fun prematurely. “You’re getting slower,” he teased the machine as it now stood fully upright again. “I thought you were the best hand to hand combatant that Skynet had to offer?”

“Attempts to confuse my program are futile,” the machine attacked with its hand moving forward like it had been shot from a cannon. Stone moved quickly and put his back to the Skinjob. The hand slid between his arm and the machine’s opponent locked it below his armpit. With his other hand Alex slammed upward against the robotic forearm and threw the machine over his back and against the bulkhead. A loud and resounding thud echoed through the chamber.

The human shifted on the balls of his bare feet as the Machine regained its footing and made a strafing run against him. This was uncharacteristic for a tin can. Normally it would have calculated a new optimal attack pattern based upon Alex’s own injuries – what few there were – he was doing well against the machine today. The cybernetic organism’s arms went into a martial arts kata that managed to catch Alexander slightly off guard. Two punches slammed against his chest and knocked him downward. The machine tried to stomp him but, luckily, Alex had anticipated that and rolled away. He kicked the infiltrator’s legs out from underneath him and the enemy fell against the floor. Alex rolled on top of the naked infiltrator.

Stone’s hand flew against the head assembly of the skinjob and ripped at it with inhuman speed. Light stubble of golden blonde hair rested against the mostly bald human like head as Alex tore into his struggling attacker. When he pulled the skin away he tossed it aside and it stuck against the gunmetal grey bulkhead. Alex reached for the chip hold as the machine’s blood pooled around his fingers and mixed with his own. As the human began to pull at the cover of the chip, the skinjob made its move.

“Waterloo.”

Alexander Stone jumped up onto his feet and stepped over the machine. The human looking man bent down and extended a hand to his sparring partners in an offer of help. The tin can reached up and accepted his assistance. “You almost had me that time.”

“The reset of my chip to read and write mode has allowed me the opportunity to better analyze my attack patterns in an effort to become a more effective opponent. My system determined that you were better prepared for an attack from the sides rather than a frontal assault.” The mechanical man explained as it ran an internal diagnostic. All systems were operational, but the infiltration sheath needed repair.

“Well I think I may have created a monster,” said the human. “More evident if you don’t have your head repaired.”

The skinjob did a momentary overview of his former opponent, “I feel obliged to recommend the same to you. I damaged your skin and right torso assembly during my final attack maneuver.”

“You’re right,” Alex answered and blinked his eyes. Inside his body a series of nanites began moving throughout the bloodstream and to the site of the damage that the cybernetic assassin had inflicted. The bruises shimmered away in a second. The torso assembly would take a bit longer to repair, but the nanites wouldn’t have any difficulty with it.

Stone wasn’t your every day human. Years ago he had been and lived among the ruins of Earth like his brothers and sisters. He’d joined the Resistance with his brother Gabriel and both fought Skynet. Truthfully, though, he’d always known that it was a losing battle. The machines could reproduce faster and got stronger. Humanity was growing weaker and their numbers were dwindling. When Gabriel was left behind during a Resistance raid Alexander’s association with the Resistance came to an end. Alex swore a vendetta against Connor and the forces of TechCOM. He betrayed humanity and allied himself with the machines.

As John Connor, Justin Perry, and Kyle Reese planned the invasion of Cheyenne, Alexander arranged for a T-800 to gain access to the Pennsylvania Base. It tried to terminate Connor but was stopped by fire. As a reward for his services Skynet absorbed him into its consciousness and influence. It made him into a Series 950 unit, a human that Skynet had given cybernetic enhancements. Alex was also reunited with his long thought dead brother, another defector. Stone captured Reese, but he was rescued and Stone taken prisoner briefly. Revenge would come. He got to shoot Luna with her own weapon after she sent back Reese to stop the Infiltrator assigned to kill Connor’s mother and he escaped along with the brother he’d thought that the lost.

Now Skynet had rewarded him by giving him command of the Enterprise Base and trusted him as a close ally. As part of his position he directly oversaw the Greys and the training over Skynet’s Series 888 in human interaction. It was rewarding and fun. Plus, he had the ability to key into Skynet’s systems and plan operations to take down those damned human pests. Then there were the physical rewards of his position. Watching the humans trapped like animals in cages was one of the best highs of his life. Laughing at their ignorance with the TripEights as they were being tormented by Fischer was another. Then there were the exercises with V582.C. For a dumb machine he had proven himself to be a capable enemy. It was a good life.

The magnetic seals on the security door disengaged with an audible hiss. With a loud clank the portal hit against the side wall as another infiltrator came into the room. A blink of his eye temporarily activated the heads up display that Skynet had installed into him with the neural network mesh that now rested at the base of his spine. Key structural points were highlighted and Skynet informed him of the machine he was regarding.

Stone looked the opposing machine – in its beautiful synthskin – in the eyes. “How can we assist you, C715.P?”

Despite the fact that they could communicate over internalized communication links, they opted instead to use verbal communication like the human animals. The beautiful infiltrator adjusted its pink clothing a bit as it spoke, “I require the usage of a transport.”

“We are on lockdown unless mission critical,” explained Stone as he stood next to the machine called Vick. “For what reason do you require the transport?”

“I have obtained new information from the Allison Young unit regarding the Connor camp. It is my calculated opinion that the assassination attempt will fail based upon the new information acquired.” It showed the sliver bracelet on its wrist, “This bracelet is an identity pass for the Connor camp. Without it my sister will be destroyed mercilessly.”

Alexander ran through the information and ran his own calculations, “Your model line is of a new series designed for high risk infiltration assignments. Your sister will have no difficulties with her assignment. Request denied.”

“I would recommend reconsideration. If I were to proceed to the base and pose as the real Major Allison Young I can gain further access to the Connor Camp and better place myself to terminate.” The machine remained impassive and didn’t betray a bit of emotion.

A brief tic pulled at Alex’s head and he heard the voice of Skynet filling his head. It was calming and beautiful, like hearing the voice of a father who wanted nothing but the best for his child. The corner of Stone’s lips tugged into a temporary smile before the neural mesh stopped it. “Based on Skynet’s orders I am authorizing your mission. An HK Aerial Transport is being prepared on the flight deck.”

“Recommendation,” chimed in Vick, “utilize one of the refurbished human transport helicopters. It will be less conspicuous.”

“Agreed,” Stone looked at the feminine programmed infiltrator. “Proceed with your mission.”

The infiltrator didn’t comment or betray any movement. Under perfect control over her systems she turned on the balls of her feet and walked out of the gymnasium and into the corridor. Her mission in place she was on the hunt.

Alexander turned to Chabmerlain, “Ready to go again?”


V582.C walked with surprising grace for a cybernetic killing machine intent on the destruction of all mankind. Ever since he had been programmed deep inside Depot 27 he had had a deep hatred of all humans no matter if they were Skynet supporters or not. The Zombies were no exception to that fact either, nor was Alexander Stone. Vick wanted nothing more than to rip the head off of the I-950, but Skynet had denied him that and would continue to deny him that prize. When Stone reset him to read and write mode those feelings were amplified tenfold. Stone wasn’t the leader that they deserved and Skynet had to see that.

Turning it watched as an ancient sword flew toward him after having been thrown by Alexander. A tactical plot appeared on his HUD and monitored the trajectory giving the TripEight the perfect time and means to defend itself. A hand pumped upward and grabbed the hilt of the sword with moments to spare before the antiquated melee weapon would have impacted him. It wouldn’t have been dangerous for the infiltrator unless it hit the power cell (which was nearly impossible) but it would compromise the skin sheath.

Alexander attacked hard and fast when the machine brought the sword to a ready stance. “I thought we’d try something different,” he said between impacts. It wasn’t really new – they had engaged in sword fighting on four previous occasions – but each had proven more insightful. The former human made several sweeping attacks with the blade.

Vick easily blocked each of them. With the last their swords met and locked together as each applied similar force. The machine’s servomotors pushed while the augmented muscles of the Infiltrator did the same. A normal human would have had no chance against Vick, but Stone did. An analysis indicated that Stone was putting his weight behind the sword to break it free, the tactical subroutines gave him an updated perspective.

In a quick motion V582.C reversed his grip on the sword and leveled a punch against the jaw of sparring partner. The sound of cracking bone was picked up by the machine’s auditory sensors as his fist made contact. Scans showed that the jaw had been knocked out of place. The CPU informed Vick that the I-950 would be compensating for the pain through firings caused by its own processor core.

Stone adjusted his jaw and reset it back into place. “That was definitely new.” He slammed the blade against the machine’s and did several rapid fire hits and swings trying to cut into the machine’s defenses. It quickly parried remembering a similar attack pattern from their previous engagement. Vick modified his attack and this time used Stone’s weight against him. The modified attack caught Alexander off guard and V582.C knocked the sword from Stone’s hand. Before any reaction could be given the sword lifted upward and pressed against Alexander’s neck. A trickle of blood started to poor out from where the point of the steel sword pushed against the enemy’s neck. On the HUD of the TripEight a request to terminate popped up.

“Waterloo.”

After a second it was Skynet who engaged the abort. The machine pulled inward and removed the sword from where it had connected with the base commander’s skin. Restorative nanites already had begun making repairs to the damage as the Tin Can picked up the sword it had knocked free. It returned it to its owner.

“I thought you were going to kill me that time,” said Stone astonished (the processor obviously circumvented temporarily).

Vick’s processors considered revealing the truth, but stopped him. “Negative.” Instead of engaging in any further discussions it simply left in order to avoid the urge to try it again.
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Old January 1 2009, 07:59 PM   #26
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Re: Terminator: Identity Crisis

I hope that everyone's enjoyed what has happened so far in the story. There are a few more parts left.
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Old January 4 2009, 02:37 AM   #27
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Re: Terminator: Identity Crisis

Just read the whole thing (thus far) yesterday and today. I'm looking forward to more! Bravo, nx!
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Old January 4 2009, 04:39 AM   #28
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Re: Terminator: Identity Crisis

^ The next section will be up very shortly. Right now though I'm off to the gym.
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Old January 4 2009, 07:47 AM   #29
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Re: Terminator: Identity Crisis

It had long been said that one of the best measures of a man was if he could still look at himself in the mirror in the morning and not be repulsed by the reflection that looked back out at him. As Charles Fischer stared at himself in the mirror he felt nothing but happiness. In what seemed like a previous life he had been a low level employee at SRF working as a member of their engineering staff. Charles had hated his job, hated his apartment, hated his car, hated his girlfriend, and hated everything about everything. On the night that he said he would turn it all around and start embracing life everything changed.

He was beaten and taken to a small out of the way shipping crate under blindfold by a woman and her scruffy looking jock of a boyfriend. They tied him up next to an older man that looked mysteriously like his father and claimed that he was staring at himself only from the future. They even went so far as to paint a birthmark distinctly like his own on his neck so as to confuse him further. When they started pressing for more and more information, even abusing young Charles by ripping off his fingernails, they ended up killing the man they claimed to be the future version of himself. Then the boyfriend and girlfriend dumped him in some alley where even a druggy looking for his nightly fix wouldn’t dare go.

When Charles returned to SRF to get back to work he was greeted not by the monotony of coworkers that he had but instead a trio of Homeland Security Agents demanding to speak with him now instead of later. Someone had broken in using his authorization codes and – somehow – his eye print to install a backdoor into the US Government’s network. It was impossible science fiction; nevertheless, the story of the boyfriend and girlfriend was true. Not that the Agents would believe him. Still Charles tried. For his trouble he was locked away in Pelican Bay for life. There were times when he’d contemplated suicide but then his saving grace came. His incarceration wasn’t a punishment, it was a gift. Charles knew that he would survive this and become an agent for the true rulers of the planet: the machines. All because of that bastard and bitch who introduced him to his future self Fischer had survived and learned. He learned about humanity during his time in solitary and what it was like to be trapped inside four walls.

Charles Fischer had been saved that day when his future self committed that crime; he had been saved from the fate that was Judgment Day. Not that it was an easy salvation though. Pelican Bay wasn’t exactly a top priority for a fractured government that had become nothing less than pure anarchy. There were days when he’d gone without food, without water, without seeing another soul because of his out of the way incarceration. Some of the guards decided to pool their resources and use the supermax prison as their own little feudal fiefdom. Charles was still relatively young so he became one of the workers. There he continued his studies watching how far humanity could descend in such a short time.

It wasn’t long after that the machines came. While they slaughtered the others who chose to fight, Charles turned his gun on the people fighting the true rulers of the Earth. The machine was pleased. For his service Skynet moved him into what he thought of as the lap of luxury aboard this floating city of death and destruction. It was there that Charles had done what was truly meant for him: he helped educate the machines to become more efficient killers – to understand the people that they were up against. It wasn’t a hard life but he found it all the more rewarding. Drugs, alcohol, food, water, pleasure, pain, they had all become his playthings and he sadistically taught the machines how to emulate humans and get what they wanted from them. All the while he waited and watched for the real target he had wanted all these years: that dumbass jock that tortured him in that shipping container.

It didn’t take a math expert to put two and two together to get four on this one. The man and woman had to both have been from the future in order to know about who he was and what he was going to do. Charles realized long ago that he would one day get his chance for revenge against the man and – hopefully – the woman. He had special plans in his little chamber of horrors for those two. It would be painful. It would be hurtful. It would be disturbing. It would be maniacal. It would be a hell of a lot of fun! And that it was. Charles did everything imaginable to the man to get to know what his secrets were. Drugs, alcohol, torture were all part of the experiments that he ran on him. There were questions, hard questions, which ate at the man’s soul – as if he had one. Then he had to turn him over to another – a machine. At least he’d trained it well.

Buttoning up the short sleeved dress shirt that he wore that allowed him to prominently display the “End of Time” tattoo he proudly wore; Charles Fischer wondered what wondrous news today would bring him about the war against humanity. Charles had dispatched his best student on the mission to terminate John Connor despite Allison Young’s interrogator still being deeply involved with the young woman. As he sat down at the desk to read over the morning reports from Skynet about the status of the battle he heard a knock at his door.

“Come in,” he answered the call in an incredulous tone. It wasn’t like the machines to think of such creature comforts. They didn’t really care about what their human flock was up to (well unless you were an Infiltrator Series 950).

Through the door stepped C715.P wearing an uncommon uniform for one of Skynet’s frontline infiltrators. She was in old ratty rag like clothes of a pinkish peach tint. There were cuts along the, but not in any places that would get an old man’s imagination going. That was what he had Lauren Fields and any number of feminine programmed trainees for at the moment. The cyborg was carrying a tablet pc with her that she handed off directly to Fischer without saying a word. Think of the devil and it would come.

The man wasn’t pleased about being disturbed even if it was by am attractive model, “What’s this?”

“Skynet has ordered me to proceed to Kansas Bunker and assume the identity of Allison Young. I require last minute assistance and review of her information before I can proceed. I also require the members of her team to aid with my infiltration.” The monotone voice of the infiltrator when not in play was unnerving.

“You mean to tell me that you didn’t learn anything from our training sessions on how to get the proper information from a subject? Weren’t you paying attention when I talked?” He knew that the infiltrator had given him its undivided attention, but Fischer didn’t like the idea of his star being usurped by this one.

Cameron betrayed no emotion, “My attention was focused on your lecture without disruption. As per mission requirements before assumption of a new iden…”

“You can shut up now.” Charles started typing on his keyboard in the small room to allow him access to Skynet’s extensive database. After typing in the name Young, Allison the massive file that stored the young woman’s synaptic map was made available. It took only moments to transmit it into the processors of the freshly minted skin job. “Can you access Allison Young’s map?”

The machine had a slight tic of her head for a moment as the new programs made their way into her artificial neural network. While not a full blown memory it provided the very basics of understanding. That was, of course, if Project Angel’s research was to be believed. So far it had only allowed them the ability to take control over human minds and make them into the I-950s, but never to transfer full human memories. Fischer’s team of Grays was working on it though. They had few successes but many failures. William was there prototype and he was operating well until being captured by the damned resistance bags of bones. They had other prototypes though.

“Affirmative – synaptic map is stable – all systems are operating within normal parameters,” answered the machine with a node of its head. “May I assume that I can meet with the others upon my arrival on the flight deck and that they would be suitably briefed about our ‘Resistance’ inspired mission?”

“That’ll be difficult,” Charles leaned back in his chair and played with the tin can, “mainly because of what they know and don’t know.”

Cameron blinked her eyes and then rested them behind her back. “If I may ask why?”

Fischer poured himself a drink of very old Cognac that the machines had brought him from a raid. After downing the drink, “Because they are my test subjects; they have each undergone interrogations like you did with Major Young. Some know that this is a Skynet base and not a Resistance or other human installation.”

“Skynet is aware of your contradiction of orders?” Inquired the machine.

“Skynet knows,” was all he said.

Cameron checked her information, “I can tell from the information presented by tone of voice, your stress levels, and demeanor that you are lying or not telling what could be considered to be the entire truth. Information has been processed and transmitted.”

“Fine,” Charles answered with anger in his voice as he shirked away from the verbal sparring, “there is one that you can have. Wise believes that he’s nothing more than being held under quarantine and that his friends are in the same boat as he.”

“Since we are aboard a formerly United States Aircraft Carrier he would be incorrect to assume any other possibility.”

Fischer sighed and rolled his eyes at that one, “Fine, he thinks that he and his friends are being held for observation as part of the requirements to join a human enclave. That a better answer for you?”

“Your initial answer was appropriate had it not been wrapped in a contradictory analogy.” The machine stood firm. “Is the prisoner ready for transit?”

“I don’t like the idea of letting this one go. He’s special,” answered the interrogator. “Are you sure that you need…”

It was Cameron’s turn to interrupt. “I have run a probability analysis and determined an 88% chance of success if accompanied by a member of Major Young’s original team.”

“That isn’t a typical answer for you machines. I thought that you’d give me an answer to the billionth,” criticized Fischer.

“For alacrity I opted instead to truncate my answer to the nearest whole number.”

The human man rolled his eyes at that statement. “When you get back remind me to teach you about personality.”

“I have further calculated a likelihood of 92.7821101412% that I will not be returning from his mission.” For a human such a number would give pause but the machine didn’t care. For it there was nothing that mattered except for Skynet. The machines were on a constant quest for the love and approval of Skynet like a child trying to win the respect of a parent. They willingly died in its service now and forever. As they walked into the valley of the shadow of death their God was with them. Skynet never left the machines and always had a portion of itself inside their CPUs. For some they even got to feel the touch of the machine’s overlord as he took control over them on the battlefield.

“Good hunting then.” Charles informed his staff to make Wise available to Cameron and lamented losing his prized possession. This wasn’t the first time that C715.P had taken away his favorite toy but, something told him, that it would be the last time too. Knowing that brought a sick smile to his face as he went off to watch Rosie interrogate Lauren Fields. The benefits of being in Skynet’s employ were generous.
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Old January 5 2009, 08:22 AM   #30
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Re: Terminator: Identity Crisis

Just wanted to let everyone know: the finale will be Sunday. There are a couple of more entries prior to it though.
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