Alan Foster - Terminator Salvation

“You machines,” he began, “would have us believe you can survive without us. That we don’t need each other. That we don’t need the sun. That we don’t need trees. That we don’t need love. But God’s greatest gift to humans is each other. And I have to thank you for that, because I no longer look at people by race or religion or gender. I know what it is to be a human, and not a machine. And now I see God’s path. He chooses a different one for each of us. Maybe even for machines. But I can’t worry about what path he’s chosen for you. Only for me.”

There was nothing left of the apple when he tossed the gnawed core into the silo. It took a long time to hit bottom. There was, however, plenty left of the gun he picked up. A check showed that its chamber was loaded. When he resumed speaking it was as if nothing had changed. He might as well still have been munching on the apple.

“You’ve united the Children of Abraham. And I know that all we are going through right now will deliver us. Deliver our salvation. This is the great war of which the Bible speaks, and Skynet is the Antichrist. It’s so obvious I’m surprised so few saw it coming.” He smiled, content and happy within himself. “But then, it had to happen, didn’t it? Without the war there would be no Second Coming, no return, no Rapture.”

He raised the weapon. Wright just stared at him. It was all he could do.

The single shot struck his shoulder and he looked away as the slug ricocheted harmlessly off exposed alloy. Recovering, Wright stared expressionlessly back at his tormentor.

Barnes smiled. “Saw you flinch. I thought you were tough.” Once again, the muzzle of the weapon rose and its wielder took aim. A second shot pinged off the revealed metal, spinning the captive around but otherwise doing no visible damage. Wright’s continued silence surprised but did not infuriate Barnes. The prisoner’s failure to respond represented a malfunction of its programming, the lieutenant decided. It was reassuring to see that Skynet wasn’t perfect. If it had done its research thoroughly, this hybrid thing would have reacted to each shot like a human, with moaning and pleading and pain.

Williams entered the silo just as Barnes’s second shot finished echoing around the chamber.

“Christ, man, watch what you’re doing!”

He looked over at her.

“Sorry, Blair. Don’t tell me you’re scared of a little ricochet?”

“I just don’t like walking in to what’s supposed to be a quiet holding area to find myself greeted with flying slugs. What are you doing?”

He shrugged. “Target practice. I was bored.”

She nodded knowingly. “Yeah, and we all know what you do when you get bored. Were you preaching again, Barnes?”

He looked at her, then back at the silent prisoner. “Nothing to get exercised about. I’m just seeing what he’s about.”

As soon as Williams had entered the room, Wright’s attitude had perked up. Previously silent and indifferent, now he growled at his tormentor.

“Let me down and I’ll show you what I’m about.”

Barnes chuckled. “Yeah, I bet you would, split chest and all. That’s more like it, thing. Much more typical, responsive human reaction. Come on, machine. I bet if we work on this together we can have you bawling and sobbing in no time. Almost like a real person.”

“You get a good shot?” Williams asked him.

He raised his gun, sighted.

“You know I don’t miss.”

“You know I don’t miss either.” She jerked a thumb back the way she had come. “Connor wants to see you.”

Barnes lowered his weapon halfway, looked at her uncertainly.

“What for? You’re the one knee-deep in shit for dragging this little puppy back home.” As he finished the question, he raised the gun quickly and let off another shot. Like its predecessors, it bounced melodiously off the invulnerable metal body hanging in the center of the room.

Williams sniffed.

“Must be why I got sent to relieve you.” She held out a hand.

Barnes glanced down at it, then back up at the pilot. Shouldn’t he be formally relieved from guard duty before reporting to Connor—or anyone else? Of course, what with everything suddenly in frenzied motion due to the impending all-out attack it was understandable that normal procedure might be a bit hurried, or even overlooked.

Williams was gesturing for him to hand over the gun.

“Come on, let me have it. I could use a little practice myself.” When Barnes continued to hesitate she rolled her eyes in exasperation. “What, you don’t trust me with your gun now? You think just because I’m a pilot I’m gonna shoot myself in the foot? I’m as good a shot as you ever were.” She grabbed the weapon away from him and he didn’t—not quite—resist. “Here, I’ll prove it to you—since you seem to need proof.”

Turning, she raised the weapon and aimed it directly at the prisoner. Their eyes met, briefly.

“Upper right clavicle area. Bet I can spin him.” With no further hesitation, she fired.

Another loud ping resounded through the enclosed space. Wright swung slowly in suspension until his back was toward them. Barnes hadn’t moved. Lowering the muzzle, she widened her eyes at him and made as if to return the gun.

“Kind of fun.” She paused, then added, “You want me to go and tell Connor you’re not coming?”

The lieutenant considered. “No. No, of course not.” He started to reach for the gun, but Williams was already aiming again.

“Other shoulder. Spin him the other way.” Her second shot reversed the direction of Wright’s rotation.

Barnes finally smiled. “Okay, pilot, you’ve convinced me you can shoot a target that’s close in. Now why don’t we make it a little harder?” Moving to the relevant instruments and before Williams could object, he activated the release on the suspension mechanism.

Still bound in heavy metal links, Wright plummeted to the bottom of the silo and in a rattle of chains crashed to the concrete floor far below. It was a fall that would have killed any man. It should have killed Wright. Instead, he climbed slowly to his feet, shook his head, and tilted it back to stare up at Barnes and Williams.

The lieutenant saw how the hybrid had survived, sniffed disdainfully, and turned to leave.

“Keep an eye on it, all right? I don’t know what Connor wants, but I doubt it’ll take long.” He nodded downward. “Let’s see how many dents you can put in it at this distance before I get back.”

Once Barnes had departed, Williams became pensive, as if she was waiting for something. Then she hurriedly put aside the gun.

Looking up again, Wright saw something plunging toward him and managed to stumble aside. The object landed with a soft thud close to where he had been standing. A quick glance revealed it to be Williams’ travel pack. As he stared at it, the sound of lightly clinking chain caused him to raise his gaze a second time.

Utilizing a basic loop ascender, she was heading down the chain toward him at a speed that would have had most people screaming or covering their eyes. Braking with the ascender, she touched down lightly.

Without offering a word in greeting she moved quickly to the lumpy pack. From its depths she hauled out several articles of clothing that were unceremoniously tossed aside. As he was trying to make sense of this, she found and fired up a compact cutting torch. It wasn’t very big nor was its flame particularly long, but it was plenty hot enough to cut through the chains that bound him.

How did he know that?

He had little time to wonder at his apparent ability to precisely gauge temperature before she brought the blue-white flame close and began working on the steel posts that had been driven through his wrists to secure him to the chain. He couldn’t see her eyes behind the pair of heavy-duty sunglasses she was wearing, but there was no mistaking her familiar grin or the sardonic tone in her voice.