Terminator: Identity Crisis

Discussion in 'Fan Fiction' started by nx1701g, Dec 17, 2008.

  1. nx1701g

    nx1701g Admiral Admiral

    Joined:
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    Location:
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    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.
     
    Last edited: Dec 27, 2008
  2. nx1701g

    nx1701g Admiral Admiral

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    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.
     
  3. nx1701g

    nx1701g Admiral Admiral

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  4. nx1701g

    nx1701g Admiral Admiral

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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.
     
  5. nx1701g

    nx1701g Admiral Admiral

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    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.
     
  6. nx1701g

    nx1701g Admiral Admiral

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    I hope that everyone's enjoyed what has happened so far in the story. There are a few more parts left.
     
  7. Tim

    Tim Vice Admiral Admiral

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    Just read the whole thing (thus far) yesterday and today. I'm looking forward to more! :) Bravo, nx!
     
    Last edited: Jan 4, 2009
  8. nx1701g

    nx1701g Admiral Admiral

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    ^ The next section will be up very shortly. Right now though I'm off to the gym.
     
  9. nx1701g

    nx1701g Admiral Admiral

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    Location:
    2001 - 2016
    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.
     
    Last edited: Jan 5, 2009
  10. nx1701g

    nx1701g Admiral Admiral

    Joined:
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    2001 - 2016
    Just wanted to let everyone know: the finale will be Sunday. There are a couple of more entries prior to it though.
     
  11. Tim

    Tim Vice Admiral Admiral

    Joined:
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    Red Sox Nation
    Looking forward to them! :) :techman:
     
  12. nx1701g

    nx1701g Admiral Admiral

    Joined:
    Jun 26, 2001
    Location:
    2001 - 2016
    Sergeant Joe Griffin stood with his back against the wall and clutching hold of the phased plasma rifle that he carried. He’d been leader of this fire team for only a month but he knew that he had the best of the best under his command. His Rifleman – Bryce Stark – stood across from him holding the rifle in a ready position. His wasn’t a standard fire team though. Instead he had two additional Riflemen (Tony Wilkins and Sonya Ballantine) rather than the heavy automatic weapon. As the other two were moving ahead Joe wished he had the automatic. It would have been more helpful. They hadn’t taken fire yet, but Griffin found it best to already be in the rush formation rather than waiting until the shots started. When ‘fire’ and ‘assist’ were in place, Griffin and Stark ran ahead of them to the next checkpoint.

    As they reached the intersection Griffin brought out a mirror and exposed it to the open corridor. All of the civilians had been locked down in security chambers so that they could be kept safe. It was weird to see the corridor empty like this but it was the lesser of two evils. The last thing they need was a Trip Eight taking a civilian hostage or a rook shooting him. Not that there were many civilians nowadays. Everyone including children had a job to do in this future war and many of them picked up a weapon after a while and joined in the fight. Though they didn’t need any shiny rooks or civvies to mess things up and that would be what they probably did.

    Stopping this bastard was the objective. Connor himself had ordered that the masculine infiltrator be destroyed but he wanted the feminine one taken prisoner and brought directly to him and Danny Dyson. It was no secret that Connor was spending more time with the machines these days that his own people. Maybe he wanted to spend some ‘quality time’ with her. Hell if it was true it had the appearance of Major Young there weren’t many men who wouldn’t want to spend some quality time with the machine. They were fully functional after all. So what if they faked it.

    “I don’t see nothin’ top,” said Stark as he peered down the corridor. “Whatever happened here I think we missed it.”

    “Don’t count on it,” was Griffin’s only answer. Crouching down and resting his back against the wall he waited. When Connor gave the orders they said under no uncertain terms that the Quadling Country – named after the southern division of the Land of Oz in L. Frank Baum’s Wonderful Wizard of Oz – of the base had to be kept isolated and that nothing was to make it into the chamber. Griffin and his team were the closest so they went there to wait. So far the radio reports showed without a shadow of a doubt that that was exactly where the male replica was going.

    And they were going to be ready. He motioned to the two behind him to move across the hall and into the ready position. The parallel corridor was being held down by Sergeant Harris’ team and he was a metal buster that the men in the Resistance feared being assigned to. He’d hold them off. Harris had to. As they moved into their new positions Griffin knew in his heart of hearts that this was going to go badly for the Resistance. There was something in the air, a sort of finality to it that he couldn’t quite place. Everything was calm and perhaps a bit too calm for what a full scale invasion should be.

    As they waited Griffin couldn’t help but think about his life and everything that had happened to him in it. He pulled off his hat and ran his fingers through the barely present hair on top of his head. Ever since he joined the Resistance it felt like he needed hair in a short cut that was almost not even there. It was like an unwritten rule. Mainly he liked it because it meant that he didn’t have to worry about the lice problem that commonly afflicted the Resistance bases. Bonnie had had problems with it and she missed his long locks, and he missed her.

    It’d been months since they last saw each other. Joe and Bonnie met during the Battle of Avila Beach. They fought together and were able to take down an HK Bomber during the fight. The Resistance won that day and they all celebrated together. After that they were almost inseparable. Then Bonnie was reassigned to Oregon Bunker and they hadn’t seen each other ever since. She was probably dead after Oregon was invaded – the reports said that everyone was killed – and that was something that Joe had faced. Some of them would have assumed that they would see each other again in the next life if something like that had happened. Joe didn’t believe that. There was no next life; there was only the here and now. As the prospects of death came more and more close Griffin noticed members of his own team seemed to be in silent prayer of one form or another. He couldn’t bring himself to it. It wouldn’t do any good.

    In the distance the team could hear a scream of pain and the blasts from a plasma rifle. Pulled instantly to the ready his fingers moved the rifle almost by automatic. Pulling on the bolt the whine of the plasma gun told him that they were ready. Joe looked around the corner in time to see a Resistance private in fatigues running down the corridor. He was bloody and bruised with his uniform in tatters. Behind him walking in a perfectly straight line they saw the massive machine. It had no visible damage of any sort on its flawless body. The dark brown eyes though were penetrated by a crimson glow.

    “Run!” The young private screamed trying to avoid the tin can. As he tried to dive around a corner three rounds ripped into the back of the young man and he slammed against Wilkins. Blood was pouring out of the kid’s back, dead instantly from the perfect shots ripping his spine into pieces. Before any of them could fire again though the machine had disappeared down another corridor and was nowhere to be found. The only door into the chamber was the one at the end of the hallway they were guarding; it would have to come this way to get there. Ballantine was on it though. She picked up a popper and tossed it down the hallway. If it spotted a machine or any movement it would start to pop and warn them. Proximity detectors – the Resistance’s best stolen friend.

    “It… it… it killed him! It just… killed him!”

    Wilkins wasn’t prone to panic and had seen his share of death, but the majority of the Resistance Soldiers had always seen Kansas Bunker as impenetrable. Now a machine was roaming its halls murdering loyal soldiers among its ones pristine walls. As the Team Leader it was Griffin’s job to bring him back into the fold.

    “Suck it up, trooper. That thing’ll be comin’ and we have to kick its ass from here back to Skynet. So grab your gun and watch that hall.” Sometimes it took a firm hand and not the kind words for a solider to get things done. The kid nodded in agreement and underwent a restoration. Before Joe’s eyes he was a bad ass Resistance Soldier again. It was a beautiful sight to behold.

    The men and woman on the fireteam pointed their guns at the end of the hallway where Wilkins and Ballantine were standing. If the TripEight was going to get to the chamber it had to go that way. It probably anticipated the popper so it wouldn’t go that way. This was the only option. They all had their rifles pointed when suddenly bricks in the walls slammed outward with incredible fury. Two arms flew out from the openings and wrapped around Wilkins’ chest and pulled the young crybaby back. Bones broke, blood started to rush from his eyes, mouth, and ears and the cybernetic organism squeezed the youngster like a boa constrictor preparing for a meal. Blood and pulp began to drop to the ground.

    “Forgot they could do that,” mumbled the team leader, “Sorry kid.” They began to fire at the wall and the machine followed suit with its own weapon. During the fight it had acquired a phased plasma rifle just like the ones that the humans were using. Energy pulses flashed through the cramped quarters and struck against the walls. Smoke billowed from the freshly cut perfect circles as debris was thrown outward in tiny pebbles. It was clear though that the machine had the advantage right now. It had a barrier shield thanks to the remaining brick, the humans were mostly exposed. If only they had grenades stronger than those poppers, but all had been worried about damaging their own home; too bad the machine didn’t share that sentiment.

    A plasma blast struck forth from the skinjob’s rifle and slammed into the face of Stark. The man’s head exploded outward like a pumpkin being smashed after Halloween. Ballantine fell back on her feet as the machine stepped through the wall. Griffin returned fire on the tin can and scored a hit against its back. In retaliation it picked up Sonya and threw her at him. The machine had been good in its calculations. Sonya slammed right against Joe’s rifle and knocked it away. The impact had dislodged the power pack too and it skittered over the floor. Griffin pushed back with his legs and dragged his butt as he tried to get away from the approaching machine.

    Without effort the replica of William – who the machines called Cromartie – bent down and picked Joe up. It didn’t kill him though and brought him instead into the main corridor. With proficiency it walked to the door to Quadling Country and showed it to the human.

    The machine’s voice was cold, “Open the door.”

    “Go to hell!” Spat Sergeant Griffin while trying to catch his breath. The grip of the Triple Eight tightened around the human’s neck.

    It twisted him around and looked him right in the eye, “I am unable to comply. You will release the door.”

    “I will not!”

    The machine looked at the retinal scanner, “Yes, you will.” It turned on its booted heel and walked to midway down the corridor to the intersection. The replica pulled Joe close and stared right into his eyes – so close that the Resistance’s Sergeant could swear he smelled lubricant. “I hope that you have a nice trip.”

    “Wha…”

    Before the question could be asked the machine had thrown the human like a fast ball against the reinforced door. Upon impact the metal door cracked and groaned causing stress points to form on the body. A quick scan utilizing Cromartie’s advanced sensors gave it everything that it needed. With rapid punches that bloodied the synthetic knuckles on its mechanical hands it broke through the door and – when suitably afflicted – pulled apart the remnants. It stepped through and into its target: the time displacement chamber.

    Through all of the calculations that the infiltrator had run while on this assignment to go back to the past it hadn’t anticipated what was on the other side of the door. In the center of the room was a large circular chamber surrounded by what it calculated to be a three story drop. A single, older, catwalk barely capable of holding the weight of a human connected it to the main chamber. Twin computer consoles were sitting on both sides of the catwalk with their human operators scrambling to hide. Though that was to be expected – even a T-888 Series was to be expected.

    “You will proceed no further,” said the other machine with a thick Austrian accent filling the auditory sensors. It moved into a classic sparring stance which Cromartie had taken during training exercises. The memory circuits of the Skynet loyal machine fired quickly and determined everything that it could about the Model 101.

    Both machines ran at each other at full speed ready to fight, ready to terminate.
     
  13. nx1701g

    nx1701g Admiral Admiral

    Joined:
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    2001 - 2016
    I hope that you like tonight's special guest (I had to do it). Well that and the references to The Wonderful Wizard of Oz.
     
  14. Tim

    Tim Vice Admiral Admiral

    Joined:
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    Red Sox Nation
    I do like. :) Looking forward to the next installment in your serialized story.
     
  15. nx1701g

    nx1701g Admiral Admiral

    Joined:
    Jun 26, 2001
    Location:
    2001 - 2016
    Corporal Decker was not a happy man. He’d got to watch everything from the crow’s nest of a burnt out carcass of a long destroyed building. With only small obstructions through the smart scope the Corporal got to watch what he thought was Allison Young and her droid coming home after being missing for so long. While considering how this could change everything and maybe restore the faith John Connor by giving him something to fight for again other than those damned machines, what he’d heard on the radio squib brought that all to a crashing end. Everything in his life was like a train wreck and this whole sordid adventure was one of the biggest train wrecks in history.

    The older sniper’s arms hurt like hell after rushing down the metal remnants of the building. As he rushed it wasn’t surprising that he’d managed to cut the hell out of his hands. Moreover his back was killing him from the heavy rifle that he had slung over it. When he selected his weapon for this little guard duty it was power over weight that won out in his decision. The .50 caliber sniper rifle had a hell of a lot of stopping power. It could take down an HK Flyer in some most cases and even blow the head clean off of an endo with a good enough shot. Nevertheless, the weight was that of a small child. As he had reached the boneyards at the base of the tower it was obvious that he’d pulled something during his rushed descent.

    All of this though wasn’t what was bothering him. Sure his back burned like it was on fire, although he was a soldier in a war against intelligent machines. If something didn’t hurt on your body at least once a day then something was definitely amiss. What was bothering him was that he was pushing himself so hard to protect the damned John Connor. True the General was their leader and many believed him to be humanity’s savior, but Decker’s faith in his was rattled. Now the very power pack that he’d been saving to kill Connor was slung over his back for use against the machines.

    Pushing himself through the debris strewn grounds he got to Hammerhead and pulled on the door. It didn’t budge (not even a centimeter) despite all of his energy going against it. When the remnants of the Army Corps of Engineers reinforced Hammerhead they sure knew what the hell they were doing. It was a mini fortress designed to protect against tin cans with reinforced walls and doorways. It was even capable of protecting against gunshots to the doors. With the base on lockdown his retinal pattern wouldn’t even be able to disable the security system.

    That meant he had to explore other options. Half a mile away there was a tunnel based entrance that came into Kansas Bunker through the southeast tunnels. It was a hard run with the extra weight and his pulled muscle but he was more concerned with stopping those two machines than anything else. It took a moment or two for the Resistance’s best sniper to regain his bearings (he missed the crow’s nest at times like this) but knew he was in the right direction. Out of the corner of his eye he found it. It was nothing more than a whole in the ground with two makeshift doors covering them and random debris strewn about on top. Pushing himself he threw the rubbish aside and nearly ripped the doors from their hinges. The metal stairs clanked and groaned as he ran down them and into the small maintenance tunnel below.

    “Oh no,” Decker said in a whisper when he found the door standing wide open. The last defense for Kansas Bunker: the base’s inner doors were reinforced just like those of Hammerhead with guards on the other side and patrol dogs sitting there waiting. None of that met him there. It was hard to believe, hard to imagine that they would retreat for any reason unless the skin jobs had gotten further than ever imagined they could. There were soldiers trained to take down these metal bastards and none of them thought it prudent to guard the door?

    The Corporal had to be honest with himself: if he were in the same boat he knew he’d be doing the same thing. Leaving the checkpoint unguarded was a small price to pay when the devil was in your house mucking things up. Civilians be damned! As he ran through the base though and saw more and more people trying to hide in plain sight it became clearer to him though that there was more to this than just killing metal. If the civilians died here was he truly any better than Skynet? The machines had to die before their objectives were met, that was true, but if these people were killed then what was the point in still fighting?

    He had to get them out. Decker didn’t want to save Connor anyway.

    There was a young girl hiding nearby trying to keep still. Decker walked over to her and the first thing he noticed was her long golden hair and beautiful blue eyes. He knelt down next to her and felt the crushing weight of the sniper rifle pushing against his back. Like the machines the Corporal hid the pain. “Who are you?”

    The girl was in shock but stammered out the name “Riley” to him. In the distance the sound of AP50 bullets being fired could be heard. There were screams that followed.

    “Riley,” repeated the Corporal, “That’s a pretty name. Listen, Riley, we need to get out of here. Where are the others?”

    “In the security rooms,” said the teenaged girl. “We were told to go there by the troopers when the alarms sounded. I tried to find my friend before I went there but I couldn’t find her. She’s a soldier and probably out helping to find this thing, but I wanted to see her. By the time I got back here they were already filled up and there was no more room for me. I couldn’t find a good place to hide but this corner was better than nothing. Maybe the machine will ignore me? Do you think it will?”


    Decker knew that the machine would probably kill her without reason but lied to reassure, “It would probably let you go. Low priority target.” The last part was true. Tin Cans had an incredible sensor array that could give them detailed information with nothing other than a cursory glance. Going through a complex set of calculations in the span of a nanosecond it could tell if weapons were present, strength levels based on muscle mass, and even calculate the chances of termination and a time. No one really knew how the threat levels were gauged and what Skynet truly saw as a threat. The scrubbed Trip Eights and other machines hadn’t been able to divulge much of that information either. Not that they could though. When the machines were scrubbed that wasn’t an analogy, they had all but core functions eliminated.

    Inside his head he remembered the layout of this section of Kansas. It was the farthest side of the base and furthest from the exit to Hammerhead. From the sounds of the fire and echoes the machine was pretty far away. He’d have time. Running down the corridor, and hoping that the girl could keep up, Decker pushed himself to the limit again. When he reached the security door he gave the secret knock that they’d all be taught to gain entry. It took only a couple of seconds for an answer.

    “We’re full!”

    Decker wasn’t accepting that answer, “I’m Decker – a soldier – I’m here to help you.”

    When they opened the doors a part of him reminded him that there was probably someone in there with a gun. It was likely he’d be taking a hot one between the eyes in a second and, if so, all he could hope for was that someone would still get these people out. It would be ironic though to die trying to rescue his killer. The door opened and an older gentleman in surprisingly well appointed clothes stood on the other side. His skin was droopy and his face worn, although that description fit most everyone in the Resistance these days.

    “Come with me if you want to live,” said Corporal Decker with brevity. That was exactly what the civilians did. Behind him as he ran, weapon pulled, were around sixty civilians that were just trying to live to see another day on this worthless lump of rock. It didn’t take long to get to the exit maintenance room and it didn’t take long for some of the most unfit of the group to begin to complain. Decker closed his ears off to them and instead paid close attention to the surrounding environment looking and listening for anything amiss. Beside him his young assistant, Riley, was holding onto the AP50 he’d handed her like it was gold. Normally the thought of giving a young teen a gun would have been taboo even today. Something told Decker that Riley could be trusted and handle herself. She wasn’t like the others and kids adjusted the best to all of this.

    It was looking good for them. He and his ragtag group of refugees reached the exit without difficulty. The machine that was hunting Connor hadn’t come for them and they were ready to leave. Decker went first, having Riley stay behind to fire on any thing that came for them, to see if it was safe. He clanged his way back up the stairs and through the portal to the elephant graveyard that covered the Resistance’s hiding place. Stepping out into the dead air he unslung his rifle and started scanning with the intelligent scope atop. There were no endos or Centaurs hiding in the rubble, thank God, and the coast was mostly clear. If they ran as fast as they could they could get to one of the other bunkers and get back into hiding.

    As the group came up the stairs a scream pierced the night air. Decker swung head and rifle around looking for the source but it hadn’t come from up here. The shriek had come from down below. Looking down the stairs as many of the men, women, and children tried to force their way out of the Bunker he saw it. A damaged skinjob stood at the bottom of the stairs with a Plasma Rifle in hand. He had parts of his endoskeleton exposed and one half of the face was ripped from place. A red eye locked onto him. It couldn’t get much worse.

    Then the light of an aerial locked on. The renegades were surrounded with no way to escape. The door back home was blocked by one of those bastard endos. The world around them was guarded by a Raptor watching them like prey. They had no where to go. A mechanical voice echoed through the air.

    “Surrender or you will be terminated.”
     
  16. Tim

    Tim Vice Admiral Admiral

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  17. nx1701g

    nx1701g Admiral Admiral

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    Location:
    2001 - 2016
    ^ Thanks.
     
  18. nx1701g

    nx1701g Admiral Admiral

    Joined:
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    Well everyone I listened to the Season One of TSCC soundtrack today while writing this one and I think that it may have made its way through into the writing a bit. If you can (parts are on youtube) I'd recommend reading this section with Sarah Connor's Theme, Perfect Creatures, Catherine Weaver, Derek's Mission, and There's a Storm Coming playing at least once during your reading. Those really helped influence this section.

    Surprisingly these songs are available on YouTube (links will not be provided)

    Without further delay:



    It man had been meant to fly God would have given him wings, or maybe rotors as in this case. When he was a young man Earl Wise and his family had taken a cross country flight because of his father’s job. They were going from their home in Death Valley to make a presentation at New York University. When the flight started Earl was excited and wasn’t afraid at all – the Batman flew all the time after all. Though that was fiction and Wise understood that. If you dressed up like a flying bat in the real world you were going to go to a psychiatric hospital and not much else. The attendants were kind and brought him what he wanted. It wasn’t until about midway when the plane started to really shake that he started to become afraid. When he saw the fear in his mother’s eyes it became palpable. Ever since then flight was something far from his interests of ever doing again.

    Now here he sat on a rickety old helicopter flying to God knows where. At least Major Young was here but he wondered where the others could have been. Allison Young and her team may not have been working with him for very long, but Wise had the distinct impression that not many things were attempted by this squad without each of those women at each other’s backs. Allison had told him when they were brought together on the Enterprise’s flight deck that they were the only two who weren’t diagnosed as positive for radiation poisoning and required the further service of Doctor Fischer’s team. Earl liked Fischer but there was something like him that was just a bit off.

    Just like Major Young.

    Resistance Private Wise didn’t know Allison well and he wouldn’t pretend to, but there was just something about her that was different. Allison wasn’t outgoing, but she was no damned bashful introvert either. Their entire flight the Major had just sat their like a statue staring forward. There was the occasional blink every few seconds that broke her stone like façade, though they were few and far between. While they were on the op that got them into this mess she cracked an infrequent joke or even pretended that she was happy to be there. Not like this though. This wasn’t that same person. What the hell happened to her when she was trapped inside those four walls of Doctor Fischer and his medical staff?

    Then again not everyone was meant to be locked behind four walls. Earl Wise was one of them, though he apparently wasn’t as bad as the Major. At least he could still crack a smile instead of stare at the world with cold eyes. Their pilot was a bit more jovial but he was pretty much the same. Was this a penalty of agreeing to live in Eden? Stoicism? If that were the case then Earl would prefer to eat an apple or two.

    “How much longer until we arrive?” He called up from his seat to their pilot.

    The pilot turned his head away from the windscreen, “Not too much longer. A couple of minutes. You okay back there?”

    “Everything’s carrots and apples,” answered Allison before Earl could get a word in edgewise. “Alert us when our landing zone is within visual range.”

    Earl adjusted the M16 Rifle that the Major had supplied him with and analyzed it. The run of the mill assault rifle before J-Day, the M16A1 wasn’t exactly as effective as a plasma rifle but it was good enough to cause a distraction or two against an endo. The burst fire came in handy in some fights, but not all of them. The bullets that it carried were supposedly some new R&D design that helped to take down machines though with only a couple of hits so it was a good improvement. Allison noted him looking at the weapon, but she didn’t say a word. She just kept watching him like a teacher proctoring a troublesome student.

    “Am I bothering you?” He asked as he set aside the weapon. As the Private set it down he made sure that the safety was still in place.

    The woman glanced down at the rifle and then back to him. “You are not bothering me.”

    The Resistance Private smiled, “Could have fooled me. You’ve barely said three words to me this entire trip of ours.”

    “My answer to your question contained five,” the woman pointed out, “two in excess of your comment.”

    “I thought maybe we could talk or something,” Wise admitted as he sat there. “You know sometimes its fun to learn about people during long trips. I hate awkward silences. Don’t you?”

    The Major looked down for a fraction of a second then looked back up at his face. “I was unaware that the silence was awkward. Did you find it to be awkward?”

    “I wouldn’t have said anything if I hadn’t! You’re worse than talking to Fischer.”

    “Why thank you, Private,” Allison looked out the window at the dead city below and the wasted skyline. “I had hoped never to see this place again. I had believed we would be killed during our mission to find the supply convoy.”

    Wise lifted an eyebrow, “There’s still time. I don’t think that mission’s over since we’re on another one very similar to it. Don’t you think? What he hell are we up to anyway? You didn’t give me much of a briefing when we left on this little family outing.”

    “We received a distress call from Kansas Bunker. Doctor Fischer’s Commander, Captain Stone, informed me of it and I decided that it would be prudent for us to attempt to return home to assist. The Captain was very gracious and allowed us access to this vehicle and one of their pilots.” An explosion could be spotted in the far distance out the window. “I tried to get permission for the entire team to accompany us; nevertheless, Doctor Fischer said he could not release them in good conscience in their present state. They were going to be treated for severe radiation poisoning when we left.”

    “So you and me against the world then?” Earl had noted the fireball ahead. “Isn’t that how it always seems to go for us? Though I wouldn’t want anyone else at my six than you, Major.”

    His Commanding Officer looked out the window and down as they passed over Griffith Park, “You know when I was a child I had a birthday at that park. Back before all of this happened that is. A boy passed by my father and me riding on a mountain bike. I told my father that was what I wanted and he told me that I’d have to wait until next year. I never did get the mountain bike.”

    Wise was saddened by what he heard, “I’m sorry, Major, but I know how you feel. Were you and your family close?”

    “Aren’t all families?” Asked the woman as they passed over the park. “Surely you and your family were close.

    “Not always,” answered Earl. He took a bottle of water from one of the emergency kits and took a quick swig of it wishing it were something a bit stronger. “I remember Judgment Day as being hell on Earth because of that very reason.”
     
  19. nx1701g

    nx1701g Admiral Admiral

    Joined:
    Jun 26, 2001
    Location:
    2001 - 2016
    “What the hell are you doing?” Screamed Earl Wise’s father as they stood outside of the arcade. “Skipping school again to play some dumbass video game about nothing? You have the potential to be so much more and you just want to be a loser.”

    Earl got right back in his father’s face, “What the hell’s it matter to you, Old Man? You got the life you wanted well this is the life I want! A life where I’m trapped in sweltering heat and being comforted by an air conditioner and not a damn handheld fan! You want to talk about a loser dad let’s talk about you. Years of research, years of struggle, and all it ended up getting you was nothing. You are a teacher at a public school that has so many gang shootings the police recommend riot gear just to go into the building for the teachers even. You sit at your desk doing nothing all day teaching to people who will probably be dead before the end of the month and that’s being nice! Worse you drug me and Mom into it again. You’re a loser dad and you’re the biggest one I know.”

    “Who’s the bigger loser here, Son? At least I made an effort to provide for you and your mother. I got my degrees and I pushed myself to keep us all together. I brought you with us because we thought it would be better for you to be a part of it. To learn from it all, and all you learned was how to be an ungrateful little brat. You have the intelligence of a genius and you waste it all day. You could be something, something special, and you would rather piss it all away. If your mother…”

    “If she were here; is that what you were going to say Dad? Well she’s not here now is she? She died in that damned Death Valley that was so important to you. Killed by some guy that we didn’t even know mercilessly because he wanted our car and the clothes that you wore in your stupid closet! He strangled her and we weren’t there to help!” The younger of the two thought about punching him in the face, but this needed to come out. “You are a lousy father, a horrible husband, and I wish that you would just die!”

    Arnold was taken aback by what his son had said to him. It hadn’t been the best life for them and Diane’s death had hit them both like a ton of bricks. What his son said though felt like that day all over again. Was his career truthfully more important to him than his own family? Had it encompassed everything that he was? What did he truthfully have to show for all his work anyway? Every day he felt like he was in a demilitarized zone where his life was on the line. Earl was so filled with rage it was just as bad coming home.

    “If I could take back what happened to your mother I would.”

    With that the Son had had enough. A heavy fist slammed into his father’s face and knocked him down on the ground. Blood poured from the older Wise’s face. Earl just looked down at him and pulled the keys from his father’s belt loop. “It should have been you! I hope you die and go to hell, Dad!”

    He jumped into his father’s truck and turned the ignition switch. He took off.


    In the real world Earl ran his right hand through his hair and looked out the window. A single tear rolled down from his cheek after telling the story. “Not all families are father knows best and happy days. For a lot of families it’s struggle to live and struggle to survive.”

    “I am sorry to hear that you and your father parted on such unhappy terms,” said Allison with sympathy on her voice. “Did you ever see each other again?”

    He nodded solemnly.


    For a foreign made car the Toyota Tundra could get it on an open highway. Earl had the engine up to ninety and Seether’s “Breakdown” blaring on the radio. He weaved in and out of traffic passing cars left and right just for the thrill of it all. What he had said was haunting him but was liberating at the same time. Through the years it had all needed to be said and getting it all into the air was like having the chains broken after years of being locked up in a cage. Now he was going to get as far away from that loser and go somewhere where he could be appreciated.

    After three or four more songs – and cussing out the DJ in his head for putting Pink on a rock station – a blinding white light flashed behind him that lit up the already bright evening sky. The DJ cut in screaming frantically through the airwaves about some disaster. Earl didn’t need to hear about it to know it happened. The heat from the catastrophe singed him even here. Looking in the rearview mirror he saw something he never imagined. A mushroom cloud billowed up from the ground where the city had once been.

    For years he had wanted to tell off his father, but now all he wanted to do was see him one more time. He slammed his foot on the break and then thought about the chances of surviving this high speed breaking of a pickup truck. By some miracle he didn’t die in the ensuing swerve where his truck did a one-eighty. When he gunned the engine earlier it was to get the hell out of dodge. Now he was gunning the engine to get back there in the wrong lane. Cars he weaved in and out of earlier he repeated the same maneuver to again at an even faster speed. The governor chip cut him off once or twice, but Wise didn’t care about that. He’d rip it apart if he had to. Right now all he wanted was to see his dad and make sure that he was okay.

    The drive took longer than Earl could ever have imagined it being. At the rate time was going he was sure that by the time he got there he’d look like Methuselah. After what felt like a lifetime he could see what remained of the burning Earth ahead of him. Skyscrapers were bathed in fire with flames shooting as high as one could see. Buildings were crumbling in on themselves from the massive gashes and scrapes covering them. Cars were left as withered messes of their previous selves with bodies trapped inside covered in fire. It was like something out of a bad movie seeing such loss of life. George A. Romero, if he were still alive, was probably taking notes for his next film using this tragedy to explain how his terrible creations rose from their graves. ‘No more room in hell’ and all that.

    After some time on foot – the truck unable to make the necessary maneuvers – he found his way to Market Street where his house and, with any luck, his father would be waiting. When he arrived there he felt sick to his stomach. Most of the houses were gone or were about to be – his house included in the latter. Walls of the older home with ‘character’ as his father said were collapsed in and debris littered the once perfect land. Earl forced his way inside.

    “DAD!” He screamed. “Where are you? Dad? Come out! Please? Daddy, please!” He kept repeating his frantic cries over and over again. His hands became bloody and burnt as Earl picked up pieces of their home and threw them aside. Wise’s lips were quivering and he felt like someone had taken a knife to his insides. The pain was temporary, it would subside. He couldn’t think about it right now. It wasn’t important. Nothing was important except for finding his father. Arnie could make it right again! Dad was Superman!

    As he tossed aside another piece of material he heard something from nearby. It was barely there, hard to hear among the cries of a catastrophe, but it was as loud to him as a jet engine. Rushing over to it Earl picked up the pieces and threw them aside. The teenager dug into the debris like a dog looking for a bone in the back yard. It felt like it took longer than the drive. By now his young locks had to be as white as the driven snow. Personal hygiene could wait for another day. He pulled the last bits of wreckage away and saw his father trapped below.

    The wood from the house had covered his broken body. Parts of his legs were charred from exposure to the fire. Bone and muscle could be seen below some of the wounds that were exposed to him. His father’s hair was singed off, but in his hand was a photo that he’d been clutching onto for dear life. Not even his father’s glasses were adorning his face. It was a struggle to speak.

    “Earl? Earl is that you?”

    “I’m here dad,” Earl said nearly choking. “I came back. I’m so sorry for what I said to you. I… I…”

    His father was reassuring and comforting, “It’s okay son. Everything’s gonna be okay. I just need to rest here for a bit and gather my strength back up. I’ll be right as rain in a day or two.”

    “Somebody help us!” Earl screamed at the top of his lungs. Where were the rescue workers? The firemen? The Goddamned Santa Claus? Any of them.

    Arnold struggled to take his son’s hand, “It’s hard to see and hear, but they’re coming. They’ll be here soon. Listen, I’m sorry for what happened and I’m sorry about your mother. I always thought that everything was an absolute and wouldn’t change. I thought we were happy.”

    “We were,” Earl answered back openly showing his tears, “Everything was good. We were together, we had everything we needed. We had each other.”

    “Then your mom died at the hand of that colossus. I’m sorry I couldn’t help her. I’m sorry you had to grow up without her and with a loser like me. I’m sorry for everything.”

    “You don’t have to be sorry,” he caressed his father’s cheek. “There’s nothing to be sorry for. Everything was fine, everything is going to be fine. We’ll get you to a hospital.” To the heavens above, “SOMEBODY HELP!”

    The older of the two leaned forward and cringed in pain, “We both know it’s too late for that. Just remember I’ll always love you and I'm very proud of you, my special boy. Promise me that you’ll go on and live. Promise,” Arnie coughed out the last word as he fell to the ground. The older man’s hand stayed firm on the photo he was holding.

    “Dad? Daddy?” Earl said in cries as the salty tears rolled. It was too late. His father was gone. Looking down on the photo he could see it through his father’s dead fingers. On it was a picture of them when they were younger back in Death Valley. Earl, Arnold, and Diane were all smiling and happy. It was a special photo because of what he wrote on it after they got it back. It said “Remember the Kit’s Fox.”

    “I promise.”


    “I built a makeshift tomb for my father back behind our home. I buried him there with the photo still in his hand and then I set out on the open road. By then though it was too late. Skynet had already taken over the globe with its prototype weapons and Luddite followers. So I found some people and I went into hiding. I tried to live up to my promise to my father, to keep going and have a good life, but how can someone have a normal life in a world populated by intelligent machines?” Earl took another long drink from the water bottle wishing that the water would somehow make it into his lungs. “Tell me the answer to that one, Major.”

    Allison tilted her head, “I do not know. I believe that we simply press on with our lives as best we can. We are all perfect creatures made in God’s image. It is our job to find a way to serve him and live lives worthy of his love and affection toward us. For us we are living normal lives carrying out his will.”

    As Earl looked out at the sea of devastation, “He has a funny way of rewarding us wouldn’t you say?”

    “I believe that the next world will be far more worthy of us.” She answered honestly.

    “Landing zone up ahead!” Yelled the pilot from his seat.

    Allison turned in her seat and peered out of the window at the scene below. A group of humans were fleeing from a hidden back door. They weren’t having an easy time at it. An Aerial Hunter Killer was hanging above them in an attack position. While Earl couldn’t see it, Allison’s machine heritage told her the truth. The weapons were powered.

    “We must act.”

    Earl Wise smiled, “Time to prove that we’re worthy of the next world.”
     
    Last edited: Jan 9, 2009
  20. nx1701g

    nx1701g Admiral Admiral

    Joined:
    Jun 26, 2001
    Location:
    2001 - 2016
    ^ Please note the above section consists of two parts. It wouldn't post because it was too long for the standard post box and had to be broken down.
     

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