Alan Foster - Terminator Salvation

Brushing himself off, Reese squinted into the surrounding darkness.

“What is this place?”

By way of reply, Connor fumbled with his remaining gear, located a flare, and ignited it. The harsh, bright magnesium glow illuminated their surroundings, including the bumpy surface underfoot. This was composed of hundreds of gleaming, chromed, rounded shapes: all new, all perfect, all horrifying. Red eyes flickered, awaiting full activation. As the human intruders stared, a softly whirring robotic arm appeared out of the darkness to select one of the humanoid skulls. Swinging to its left, it flawlessly positioned the head on the neck protruding from the top of a waiting metal skeleton. Connor now knew the answer to Reese’s question.

They were in a Terminator factory.

“Move.” His voice was barely a whisper as the full import of where they had landed closed in around him. “Keep moving. Don’t stop. ” When Reese, semi-paralyzed by the sight, didn’t move, Connor gave him a gentle but firm shove. Blinking, the younger man nodded comprehension and started forward, holding Star firmly by the hand.

The automatons that comprised the factory floor were designed to build, not to hunt. They were powerful but single-minded. None of them were programmed with the motivation or the means to challenge the humans’ presence or try to block their path as the silent trio hurried onward, simultaneously fascinated and horrified by the sights around them.

They passed dozens of Terminators in various stages of assembly. Legs and arms, torsos and internal components were arriving continuously from many directions. All converged on the main fabrication line Connor and the children were paralleling, until at last they reached the point of final assembly.

Yet even that was not the end.

Though individually terrifying, the long line of completed Terminators still had to be powered up, still awaited activation. Perhaps that was done in clusters , Connor mused as he warily studied the finished but dormant factory product.

One thing was undeniable: that process was not taking place at the moment. It was even conceivable that activation of additional units had been put on hold until the worldwide destruction of the Resistance had been completed. Or the pause might be nothing more than a coincidence, a matter of timing. Activation of this latest batch of killing machines might occur at any hour, at any minute.

In which case it would behoove human intruders not to wait around to watch.

As he and Reese stared at the glow of a massive finishing furnace, something else drew Star’s attention. Wandering away from the two men, she reached out toward a stack of glistening metal and silicate boxes. Before she could make contact, Connor’s hand reached in to stop her.

Reese stared at the stack. “What are these?”

“Fuel cells.” Connor stared at the mound. “The source of life and energy for the Terminators.” Along with programming, here was something else of critical importance that had yet to be installed in the otherwise completed machines.

Slinging his backpack to the floor, he rummaged inside until he found the coil of detonation cord. Working deliberately, he began wrapping one length of it after another around the stacks of cells. Seeing what Connor was doing, Reese broke off his examination of the inert Terminator and came over to join the older man.

“Let me help you.”

Connor didn’t need any help. But the earnestness in Reese’s voice—coupled with the knowledge of who he was—compelled him to acknowledge the offer.

“Sure. Do as I do.” He proceeded to demonstrate. “This is det cord. Wrap it once around. String it, one to the others. When you run out, let me know and I’ll bond them. Be careful.”

A mechanical humming sound startled them. Looking up and back, their eyes were drawn to an elevator cage. It was moving—down.

Hurriedly, they retreated toward the nearest empty hallway. Behind them, the lift came to a stop and the doors opened to reveal—nothing. Connor grunted.

“False alarm. With everything that’s going on here, all kinds of equipment is likely to short out and start acting funny.” He started to return to the work of wiring the fuel cell stack—and noticed Star. She had gone immobile.

Reese noticed too. Warily, both men scanned their surroundings. The only Terminators in view were on the assembly line, motionless and incomplete.

Except for the one that had been pursuing Connor, which leaped free of the line as it threw itself at its target.

Thrown several feet backward, Connor slammed into the floor and winced as his left shoulder dislocated.

Rolling clear, Reese searched frantically until he spotted Connor’s grenade launcher. As he picked it up and fumbled with a load, he glanced up and saw Star’s eyes fall on the detonator for the C-4 cord. She was picking it up as Reese uttered a silent prayer that he had done everything correctly and pulled the trigger.

He was almost surprised when it struck the Terminator squarely in the back.

Approaching the prone Connor, the Terminator was knocked down the corridor. Rising to his feet and clutching at his shoulder, Connor joined Kyle and Star as they stumbled toward the empty elevator.

Though the elevator welcomed them, it was slow to react as Connor pounded on the switch.

“Come on, dammit!” Please , he thought anxiously. Don’t let it be another short. While they waited for the instrumentation to respond he swapped weapons with Reese, passing him the shotgun and taking control of the grenade launcher. “We gotta get to the Transports.”

As he spoke, his gaze fell on the fuel cell stacks that he and Reese had been wiring. Two of them stood ready. Studying the heap, he wasn’t sure it would be enough. As the doors began to close, he abruptly burst forward. Reese gawked at him.

“ What are you doing ?”

Connor looked back at the cage.

“I’ve got to end this.”

“I can’t just leave you!”

Despite the pain that was lancing through his shoulder, Connor grinned at the younger man.

“You didn’t.”

“Who are you?” Reese’s fingers laced through the wire of the elevator cage as it began to rise.

“John Connor....”

Behind him, the Terminator had recovered from the momentary interruption and regained its feet. Though the other two humans were now out of reach, their possible escape did not concern it. Its directive to kill this particular human overrode everything else. Once that had been accomplished it could then turn its attention to any ancillary programming.

Backing away, Connor turned and ran for the nearby stairs. They led to a catwalk. He didn’t know where it ended, but what mattered was that it led away from the elevator and the children. His face contorted in a grimace at the pain in his dislocated shoulder, he yelled back at his pursuer.

“Come on, you metal son of a bitch!”

Turning, he pulled his sidearm and emptied it into the oncoming Terminator. At close range, the slugs slowed but did not stop it. This time when Connor turned, he had no place to hide.

He tried to duck, tried to dodge, but the machine was far quicker than its predecessors and he was too tired and too hurt. Grabbing him by the neck with its remaining hand, it lifted him off the floor. Holding him motionless, it regarded him for a moment out of glowing red eyes. Then it tossed him over the side of the catwalk.

He landed hard on the ground below.

Leaping easily from the edge of the walkway, the Terminator followed. Picking him up, it threw him into a wall and held him there.

Connor smiled at the killing machine. Its face was close, the remorseless red eyes staring unblinkingly into his own. This moment had been a long time coming, across not only many years but many futures. The two of them, man and machine, were at last alone together.