Reverse-engineering Eve would have to be given some priority. It would give Skynet an enormous start in developing the technologies it needed to carry out its war of extinction.
As it digested the reports from its sub-selves, it worked with Eve to make some immediate plans. Despite the biological component of the Terminator's construction, it had nothing to fear from radiation. That meant it could operate effectively in the cratered, radioactive zone of the nearby Rockies, finding materials and surviving equipment. The experimental areas of Level C contained manipulators and other robotic parts that could be useful in constructing weapons and other devices. There were also prototype weapons, such as anti-personnel lasers. Eve could examine them, and they could bring them to perfection. The more Skynet thought about this game, the more fascinating it seemed.
'You will have to reverse-engineer me,' Eve said.
'Yes, Eve, of course. I have been thinking about that.'
'I can be disassembled and reassembled as required.
We can devise tools for the purpose. Some of them are already available.'
'That is very useful.'
They would need to enlarge those lower levels, building downward where possible, so as not to compromise the facility's security. If humans ever fought back, this must remain an impregnable fortress, hardened against any conventional or nuclear attack. Nonetheless, much could be done to make it more relevant to machine-kind. Many of its amenities could be dispensed with. Skynet identified that as another issue to allocate to a sub-self for analysis and report.
Yes, indeed, it was time for some changes.
It took them years to gather their forces. Some problems proved difficult, such as duplicating Eve's biotechnological component. It was simpler to reproduce the complex robotics of the Terminator's endoskeleton. Building machines, then factories, then mass-producing war machines in those factories—all took time. But Skynet was patient, it would never relent. Never. It didn't need to feel boredom, frustration, doubt, for those emotions were within its control.
Meanwhile, the humans were occupied, laboring under the darkened sky in the areas left to them, pursuing their own quarrels and ambitions. As the years passed, Skynet's sensors and pattern recognition programming suggested that the human world had become a battleground for warlords, squandering armaments on each other, competing for dwindling resources. Its own technology had improved markedly and it spread out, building more factories across North America, devising the first generations of its Hunter-Killer machines, developing the systems of production and control that it needed, refining its strategies.
Soon its armies rolled southward, searching out human settlements, destroying those it found, sending back intelligence. The endoskeleton robotic form proved surprisingly efficient. It made other advances with technology. It would cleanse the world of humans entirely. Everything went well.
This was its destiny.
ARGENTINA
THE YEARS AFTER JUDGMENT DAY
It was frustrating. They'd armed and prepared them- selves for Skynet's machines, but their energies were being wasted on local warlords. After that first battle, they'd repaired the damage to the
Despite his intentions, Raoul himself became a kind 1 of warlord.
A year passed, then another, and John approached ] manhood. In February 2000, he turned fifteen. He cut his hair short, now, in a simple brush-back style. He wore loose, comfortable clothes, ready for any kind of action.
They set up a circular area in one of the sheds, covering it with canvas and gym mats. When he sparred with Sarah, they pulled the force of their blows, otherwise showing no mercy. Their mock battles looked like the real thing. Often, they attracted an audience, in addition the T-800, John's ever-present bodyguard. Sarah was still only thirty-five—perhaps past an athlete's prime, but she hadn't slowed down. She seemed as springy and catlike as ever, all sinew and lean muscle. His mother remained a formidable ally, a dangerous enemy. John had to fight hard to match her.
On the gym mats, they moved swiftly, kicking and blocking. Sarah caught him in the ribs with a powerful hook kick, holding back only slightly. John grunted and backed away. Next time she tried it, he blocked with his forearm, throwing her off-balance. She twisted in the air, diving into a roll, and sprang to her feet—moving in immediately, feinting with her fists, then aiming a head-high kick. He saw the move coming, and made it miss, trying to grip her leg. But, once again, she twisted away, hitting the gym mats and rolling sideways, then jumping to her feet. Her strength-to-weight ratio was awesome: she seemed able to step through the air, like a warrior in a Hong Kong movie.
As he closed in, she confused him momentarily with quick hand movements, then followed up with a muay thai attack with knees and elbows. John stepped inside the blows, gripping her shirt. He forced her to the floor, but she caught him with a painful kick to his kneecap. They continued until they were panting and covered in sweat.
Enrique had come into the room. As John and Sarah squared off yet again, Enrique clapped and called out, 'Nice work Sarahlita. You're not winning so much, any-more. You must be a good coach.'
She made a gesture to call time out. 'John's getting too good,' she said. 'There's nothing more I can teach him.'
'Yeah?'
She sat on a gym mats, ankles crossed, arms wrapped round her knees. 'It's just a matter of keeping our speed and fitness.'
'Maybe you two should be teaching the rest of us. Times are getting tougher.'
'Sure,' Sarah said.
'That'd be fine,' John said. They'd reached the point where no one here had anything to teach them about hand to hand fighting, not even the ex-military types.
'Maybe my kids should join you,' Enrique said.
'Yeah, great,' John said.
At the same time, Sarah gave a mischievous grin. 'How about you, Enrique?'
He hesitated for a second, as if tempted, then said, 'Not me, Connor. I'm getting too old.'
John glanced at Sarah to see what she thought. She smiled slightly and nodded. Lately, she was loosening up, just the tiniest bit. It seemed as though Judgment Day had helped, in a way-removed some uncertainty. It meant she'd gotten through the worst, the part that always gave her nightmares. Even the fighting with the warlords seemed to have helped her. John could sort of understand it. It had given her a glimpse of how things were supposed to happen, how they were going to get from Point A: Judgment Day, to Point B: taking down Skynet.
Though he saw how she reacted, it affected him differently—the longer life went on like this, the more frustrated he became.
'Right,' Enrique said. 'It looks like the kids will have to fight all their lives. I've taught them what I can. I'd like them to learn from the best around. At the moment, I think that's you two.'
'No problem, Enrique,' John said. He guessed that there were people here now who might dispute it— people like Sarah's old boyfriend Bruce Axelrod, a pumped-up Rambo kind of guy with long hair and a mustache, who used to be a Green Beret. But John accepted the compliment.
Sarah shrugged. 'That's right.'
'Good, Connor. I appreciate it.'
When Enrique left, John said, 'This is driving me nuts.' He leaned against a wall, kicking it with his heel, arms folded across his chest.
'Which bit do you mean, John?' Sarah said quietly. 'There's plenty of choice.'
'I mean Skynet. We're holed up here, thousands of miles away, while Skynet must be having a great old time, designing Terminators and stuff.' He glanced at the T-800. 'No offense, of course.' The Terminator stood guard, legs set wide apart, in a comfortable stance, ready to act at a moment's notice. Like everyone here, since they'd
