Earl Wise had never really believed in any luck but bad luck. Growing up among the ruins of the Earth his entire life had been a struggle to live and nothing more. His days were filled with scrounging for food to eat – it usually being nothing more than trash – and finding new and clever ways of dodging machine patrols. Many people would have thought that his survival was all the end result of luck but Earl had other thoughts. It was luck that kept him alive: it was punishment for who he was. Growing up he wasn’t one of the soldiers of the Resistance, he was nothing more than a survivor living among the remains and chewing on the rotting corpse that was the Earth. Wise used people to survive and wasn’t above letting them die in the process. He always saw the Resistance as nothing more than a group of dumbasses who were never going to win and were just wasting the already limited resources that they had at their disposal. For every machine soldier they destroyed there were two more rolling off an assembly line to take its place. For every soldier the Resistance lost there were no replacements. All they had was the moment and their fight to survive should be limited to small groups and not full scale military.
It wasn’t his hatred of authority that led him to this choice. Skynet operated on a set of priorities and protocols. When it attacked it did so because not of whom you were but by the level of threat you posed to the machine. No matter what it was coming, but by making yourself a military you ran more risks of becoming target zero. Small cells capable of a guerilla campaign were more effective in this type of war and that was the motto he lived by. So that was why he refused to join the Resistance in any of their fights. It worked for him for a long time, but one day his group became target zero. Skynet came for them despite their limited threat value and killed everyone but him. Earl escaped by the skin of his teeth though he always knew he would. It was his punishment for what he did as a kid. Eternal life in this new hell, only it didn’t take solving a demonic puzzle box for him to get there; it took humanity opening up Pandora’s Box because of their own shortsightedness to open that portal.
With the death of his comrades he’d been forced to the group he hated more than anything: the Human Resistance. They made him into a grunt and on his first mission he was captured and nearly killed by the machines. Poetic justice if there ever was any. Worse he became the demonic plaything of one of Satan’s helpers: Charles Fischer. The man offered him paradise with a bite from a single apple all the while he was experimenting on the rest of the team. He – or rather allowed one of his machines – killed their leader (Allison Young). Fischer watched as one of the machines raped and tortured Lauren Fields. Then he psychologically battered Catherine Luna – one of the Resistance’s strongest – by making her stare into the eyes of her dead husband – a man who sold his soul to the machines for immortality as one of their number. The only reason that Earl had escaped was Skynet needed him to show the way to Kansas Bunker so that they could invade and terminate John Connor. Thanks to Earl Connor lived. He stopped the machine – a replica of Allison Young – from having killed him and then pushed him away before a deranged Resistance soldier named Decker could kill him. For his actions Connor made him a Captain and the leader of the Four Horsemen. Now he was here: back in hell.
Earl Wise and a Series 900 endoskeleton had been locked in fierce combat for over five minutes now with neither gaining any ground against the other – which was impossible. This particular model was designed to terminate other machines and here he was a lowly human giving as good as he got. The machine would move to lay a crushing blow but, somehow, Earl would always be a second ahead and dodge the attack. Earl would strike against it but the machine would also evade just as quickly. It was hard to fathom. Humanity and the machines were never so equally matched. Could the hyperalloy composed combat droid be playing with him? Did the machine just want a challenge or a new toy to play with? It had to be preposterous. Machines didn’t play with humans. They were very direct creatures that simply moved in and killed you. There was no pity in their actions and they did their jobs without regard to their own interests or desires.
But how else could he survive? Ever since his brief incarceration aboard what remained of the USS Enterprise he’d been living through similar ordeals that some could have thought impossible. Aside from what all happened aboard the Enterprise and later at the Resistance’s Headquarters, somehow he’d been able to accomplish things that were beyond belief. When he was at the Resistance base he engaged there scrubbed Triple Eight in hand to hand combat and won against it. Plus, he slept less and less but still had no problems functioning. It was like he was constantly on adrenaline or some drug that kept him wired. After that there was the Reconnaissance droid that was going after Luna. He shot that from an incredible distance without the assistance of any kind of scope or optics. Then there was the boulder and shrapnel from when he tried to protect Lauren Fields. It would have killed any man and all he had were what kids would call a booboo that was already healing over. Now he was holding his own over a machine designed to kill other machines. Last time he faced off against one of these it was over in seconds yet here he was. What did it all mean? Was his punishment really meant to be that severe or was it something else?
Maybe it was luck.
Colonel Danny Dyson stood in the corridor outside of the Operations Complex just staring at the door. He’d been here probably hundreds of times, or at least in rooms like it, but this time something felt different to him. For the first time he felt genuine fear at being in the stronghold of the Resistance not because of the lives that they were playing with but because of something else. He was afraid for his life. Something about the death of Cray had hit him hard. The machines were here, somehow, and he knew it. Yet Connor’s guardian had dismissed the claims. Cameron as he called her thought that it was paranoia and that there were no threats to the Resistance in the base – that Cray’s death had been suicide. Perhaps it was but Danny wasn’t holding his breath. Seven was analyzing the dead man’s wounds looking for powder burns or anything that would indicate he’d killed himself. While an 800 Series would make quick work of the examination the Seven Hundred Series needed a bit more time. After all his dermal sensors were scavenged off of a Trip Eight that Dyson couldn’t really ever get to work right. Connor was too close to this particular machine in his eyes anyway. She was supposedly scrubbed and working on their side now though Dyson didn’t believe it. He hid the fact that the machines still had their default programs included in their matrix from the general population but Connor wasn’t part of the foot soldiers. Boyhood experiences aside the General should have kept his place and not surrounded himself by machines.
Biting the bullet, he hoped figuratively and not literally, the Colonel pushed the handle down and stepped inside the Operations Room. It wasn’t all that spectacular anyway and looked pretty much like any other room. It was circular and buried deep within the base. The Operations Center was surrounded by cement pillars, brick, and there was metal between them to keep radiation exposure to a minimum if there was another attack. In its old life it was a relay room but now, in its new one, it was one of the most important rooms on Earth. A catwalk circled the room and in the center on a lower platform were a series of workstations surrounding a centralized plasma screen TV. It was surprisingly inactive for as important as it was. Standing at the central table were three people two of which weren’t people at all with the last being exactly who Dyson truly wanted to see: John Connor.
“We’re busy,” Connor said in greeting to Dyson, “so now’s not really the best time for a chat, Danny.”
“Not really here for a chat I’m afraid, Sir,” the African American walked up to the bank of workstations. “But I’m curious what you’re working on that’s kept you out of the public eye for so long, John.”
“Skynet has a new base hidden somewhere in Los Angeles. We think it may be the beginnings of a new Skynet Central. We’re trying to figure out where the machines would hide it.” His attention wasn’t focused on his friend but rather on the workstations and their maps. Each was of what was once downtown Los Angeles.
Dyson’s eyes moved over to the monitor where Cameron was working, “They’d probably hide it in plain sight. They aren’t too concealing.”
John smiled as he scrolled through an image, “Normally, but the bastard has proven adaptable in the past. We’re looking through the zones trying figure out where they’d hide it other than in plain sight. We have a team or two out but so far they haven’t been much help.”
“Of course not,” he looked at Cameron, “Hard for them to keep in contact when the communications array’s been destroyed.”
That was enough to get John to stop what he was working on. His eyes darted from the screen up to Dyson, then Cameron, and back to Dyson again. “Excuse me?” The Resistance’s leader asked.
Cameron answered, “Earlier today there was an incident in which the Communications Array and the operator of the equipment – Second Lieutenant Maxwell Cray – were deactivated and disabled.”
“When you say deactivated you mean?”
“Terminated,” Cameron replied. She turned to Dyson, “have you anything new to report?”
Dyson shook his head, “I’m afraid not. The investigation hasn’t revealed anything new or important,” he left out the word yet. He didn’t want to show his hand but there was one thing on his mind. “You mean you didn’t know?”
General Connor crossed his arms and stood fully erect, “This is the first I’ve heard of it. Why wasn’t I…”
“Should you not be working then?” The reprogrammed infiltrator asked pointedly, her expression the normal monotone.
“We’re still investigating though don’t worry, Seven’s on it.” He rested a hand on the wood veneer table very near to the machine and her workstation. “Why aren’t you answering…”
It was not Cameron who spoke but rather the one that John had started calling Bob, its accent exotic yet frightening as it talked. “The capabilities of a Seven Hundred Series endoskeleton are severely limited. They were designed to terminate not to investigate. Should you not be present to oversee the operation?”
“He’s been upgraded with equipment not unlike that of you,” he pointed to the Model 101 then Cameron, “and you. I forgot to put that in any of my reports though, but I’m sure you can understand. We don’t want any performance envy do we?”
“Envy is an emotional response and I do not have emotional responses,” the machine returned to her work.
General Connor wasn’t too pleased and he very much did have emotional responses, “I’m a little mad that you kept something so important from me during a mission as vital as this one, Cameron. We WILL talk about this later.”
“Understood,” Cameron kept up her work not giving them any more consideration. The scrubbed skinjob was looking over another map this one highlighting territory held by the Resistance.
John rested his hand on his friend’s shoulder, “Danny I’ll get to the bottom of this and I know you’ll get to the bottom of that poor kid’s death. I trust you and you’ll make sure that he’s given the respect that he deserves – mainly that his killer is found.”
The replica of Allison Young interrupted, “The killer has been found.”
John looked at his protector, “And he is?”
“Lieutenant Maxwell Cray,” said the machine. “His death was deemed suicide. He took his service pistol and fired point blank into his own head. My investigation and scans detected residue despite the physical damage.”
“Physical damage?” Connor asked curious.
It wasn’t Cameron but Bob again, “A fire erupted in the room destroying the equipment and eliminating physical evidence. It was caused by the damage to the communications equipment.”
“The wounds were too perfect,” countered Colonel Dyson. “John, I really think that kid was murdered.”
“I disagree,” it was Cameron again. “My scans are accurate and detailed – more so than your observations could be.”
Dyson started to grow agitated, “Unless you’re hiding something!”
“What would I possibly have to hide?” The machine kept going.
“You’re a damn machine! What don’t you have to hide?” The Colonel was yelling at the reprogrammed infiltrator.
Cameron cocked her head to the left and pondered the query, “I believe that you are bringing personal prejudices into your daily work. It is not effective for our mission if the expert in Skynet’s forces has a personal grudge against the machine including myself. It could color your objectivity.”
“Apparently I’m pretty good at what I do,” he charged indignant, “I reprogrammed you. Then again maybe that was a failure on my part.”
Connor broke through the two without even having to raise his voice, “Stop it both of you. Listen, we’re running out of time and the machines are coming for all of us. We have to work together if we’re going to survive this war – human and machine alike. Skynet wants nothing more than to see us all dead and if we stay on this course – pointing fingers at each other like children – we should just give it to ‘em. I don’t want to just hand over the keys to Skynet. Now, both of you, get over it and move on. Danny, look into it and report to me the minute you know what caused that boy’s death.”
“Of course,” their computer expert said with a nod. He smirked at Cameron.
“I saw that,” the Resistance’s leader snapped then looked at the machine with feminine programming, “Cameron.”
She finally broke her attention free of the console, “Yes John?”
“Keep away from Dyson,” he said simply. “He’s leading this investigation and you’re not. Get over it and get back to work.”
“Acknowledged,” she replied to his order and began working again.
The two men walked up the small set of stairs, “I trust you with this assignment, Danny, I really do. Thank you for telling me about that boy’s death. I don’t know why Cameron didn’t.”
Danny remembered the past. When he was a kid – waiting on pizza no less – he opened the door to look into the eyes of that very machine staring at him. John was at her side and so was his mother. Everything his father had done was for nothing. His father died for nothing. Could she be trusted? “John, do you really trust that machine?”
“I trust her,” they got to the door, “and you should too. You should because of what we’ve been through throughout the years, old friend. What we’ve seen and been a part of. You’ve been reprogramming the skinjobs and tin cans for years; once we get them over to our side and thinking our way they’re not against us anymore. There are some that allow the reversion, that stop overriding the termination protocols and restore the defaults, but Cameron isn’t one of them. She isn’t our enemy.”
Danny peered over his oldest friend and his leader, “I wish I could believe that.” He left the room without saying another word.
General John Connor turned and rejoined the machines in the center of the room. He took a deep breath and issued his orders for the machines, “Resume the search. Skynet waits for no man.”
Ha.
