Alan Foster - Terminator Salvation

“What happened to your father? He crash out on the bike?”

She shook her head sadly.

“No. That would have made him happy, to go out that way. He was an airline mechanic. Jet engine specialist.” She smiled and a tear started from the corner of one eye. She wiped it away angrily, as if it was some kind of intruder into her private life. “He loved the noise engines made, but I guess you already figured that. All the big airports and related maintenance facilities were taken out in Skynet’s first strike.” Finding another tear forming, she hastened to change the subject.

“What about your brother? Was he killed on Judgment Day?”

“No.” Any hint of happiness vanished from Wright’s face as his mood darkened visibly. “He died—before.”

Intending to press him for details, she changed her mind fast when she saw his expression. The talk and the lateness of the hour were combining to shrink her span of attention. In spite of herself, she yawned.

“That other world, it’s all gone. All—gone.” She lifted her gaze to meet his. “Thanks for saving me back there. Don’t meet too many good guys these days.”

His tone did not change. “I’m not a good guy.”

“Sure you are. You just don’t know it yet. You know the only good thing about the end of the world? Whatever you were, whatever you did—doesn’t matter now. That world is gone.” Snuggling closer to his bulk, she dropped her head back onto his chest.

“You get to choose who you want to be.”

He looked down at her, not moving. Not wanting to disturb her. It was a strange feeling. He was used to disturbing people—often violently. Not this time. As she fell asleep against him he let his head ease back onto the ground.

It had stopped raining. Overhead, the sky was clearing, and the stars were coming out.

The Hunter-Killer had picked up movement and changed its course to pursue. Though the illumination from the stars above was feeble, the machine did not need daylight to track its quarry. Sighting via infrared, it had recognized the heat signatures of multiple human forms moving through the trees of the overgrown park below.

Dropping low, it activated its main batteries, preparatory to inaugurating extermination. The human shapes were moving fast as they crossed over a ridge. Reaching the far side, they slowed.

So did the HK. Programming flashed over reports, scanned histories. It halted, hovering just above the treetops.

***

Crouched down on the other side of the ridge, Barnes gripped his assault rifle tightly as he watched the shadow of the Hunter-Killer.

“It’s not following us.”

Raising a hand, Connor used a finger to trace the crest of the hill as it wandered across the edge of the old park.

“This ridgeline is the beginning of solidly defended Resistance territory. We still hold sway here. The HK won’t risk getting hit by a missile battery. Not for a low priority target like a couple of isolated humans out for an evening’s scavenging.”

Barnes managed to look offended.

“How do we become high priority targets?”

Connor extended a hand. “Give me your weapon.”

Barnes passed it across. Taking careful aim, Connor pointed it at the HK and fired off several rounds. Unless he managed a freakishly lucky hit the shells would do no damage to the big, heavily armored killing machine. But they would be enough to indicate that the humans it had been tracking were armed with more than angry words, and were therefore worthy of its continued attention.

A couple of his shots pinged off the Hunter-Killer’s smooth sides. It responded immediately, according to programming. Connor and his companion were already on the move as slugs and explosions tore up the hillside where a moment earlier they had been catching their breath.

Darting into a cluster of standing structures, the two men wove their way skillfully in and out between the buildings. Continuing its search for a clear line of fire, the HK kept after them. When they ducked into one of the long-abandoned structures, the machine began to pulverize the walls behind them. They were trapped inside, and now it was only a matter of time.

Sprinting up the interior stairs brought Connor and Barnes to the rooftop—where they were greeted by the rest of the assembled commando team. In its center stood a single tech, backpacking the portable transmitter that had been put together by the base’s best mechanics and technicians.

Having blocked the entrance to the building with debris, the HK rose on its repellers until it appeared above the roof-line. Muscles tightening, Barnes took up his position behind the transmitter-carrying tech and looked anxiously at their squad leader.

“ Now? ”

Connor evinced no such anxiety. While there were occasions, an increasingly apprehensive Barnes reflected, when the man’s calm could be reassuring, at other times it could be downright unnerving.

“Wait.” Connor regarded the ascending machine with a detachment that bordered on the academic.

Adjusting its attitude as well as its altitude the HK pivoted slightly, the better to bring its weapons to bear on the group of humans it had cornered atop the ruined building. Guns whirred to life as they prepared to fire. On the roof, battle-hardened fighters flinched and looked fretfully at their leader.

“ Now. ” Voicing the command with conviction, Connor never took his eyes off the Hunter-Killer.

Reaching up onto the tech’s backpack, Barnes flipped the switches that activated the transmitter. Had anyone asked, he would not have been ashamed to admit that he was scared shitless. The transmitter’s components had been checked and rechecked before the device had been certified for use. Its batteries had been fully charged.

Despite repeated testing, however, no one knew if this was actually going to work out in the field. If it didn’t, the HK’s gatling guns would turn every one of them to hamburger in less than a minute. That they had all volunteered for this mission did not make him feel any better about the prospect of dying for it.

Colored telltales came to life within the body of the transmitter. It made hardly a sound and emitted nothing visible. The roar of a missile or the thunder of a cannon would have been much more visually and aurally satisfying. Used to such familiar battlefield cacophony, the commando squad was uncertain how to react when what was supposed to be the primary weapon in their midst failed to generate little more than an electronic whisper.

For a horrible moment there was no indication that the transmitter was doing anything at all. Having volunteered for the night-time mission, prepared to die if it failed, the squad members tightened their grips on their weapons and primed themselves to go down fighting.

“It’s not working,” Barnes hissed tightly. “It picked up the signal. We gotta get outta here.” He started to move.

Connor grabbed him, held him back.

“Stop. Don’t turn it off. Turn it up.”

Something very strange happened. Strange and unprecedented in their collective experience.

The indicator lights on the outside of the Hunter-Killer dimmed. The steady throb of its thrusters stopped as its engines cut out. Unceremoniously and suddenly as harmless as an oversized child’s toy, it fell backward to smash into the buildings across the street. Dust rose from the crash site, briefly obscuring the impact.

Rushing to the edge of the roof, Connor and his team peered down at the now inert machine. A few appreciative murmurs rose from the veterans among them, but for the most part everyone was too stunned to do more than stare. It was as if they could not comprehend what they were seeing.

Stopping alongside the thoughtful Connor, Barnes observed tautly, “With all due respect, sir—did you have to let it get that close?”