Terminator Salvation: Cold War

under the ice after they had finally got rid of the invader. Too many people had already died tonight. Drowning was not on her agenda.

“That’s it, chief!” Folger cheered her on, sounding just like the soccer coach he used to be. He’d been on a winning streak before Judgment Day. “Only a few more feet!”

Solid ground was tantalizingly close. Molly could practically feel it beneath her feet already. A couple more leaps and she’d be clear of the river. She started thinking ahead to her next move. In theory, there was an emergency snowmobile hidden in a gully outside camp. If they squeezed tight, it could carry all three of them....

A metal hand smashed through the ice beneath her. Ice-cold fingers wrapped around her right ankle, squeezing tightly enough that soon they would grind the bones together. 800 pounds of Terminator weighed her down like an anchor.

She fell forward on her face, then began sliding backward into the water.

Sitka screamed from the shore.

“No fucking way!” Molly blurted out through the pain. She swung her arm back and emptied her pistol into the Terminator’s wrist. Damaged hydraulics spurted fluid. The machine’s grip loosened a little. She yanked her foot free, leaving her boot behind, and the Terminator grabbed for her again. But then a heavy slab of ice slammed into it, causing it to lose its footing.

The current caught the machine and swept it under the ice once more.

She prayed that this time it would be for good.

WARNING: LOSS OF TRACTION. MOBILITY COMPROMISED.

The HUD displays flashed repeatedly before the T-600’s single optical sensor. It struggled to regain its footing, but the stream was too deep, the current too strong. The slippery floor of the river offered no easy purchase.

Its fingers grabbed onto a slimy rock, only to have it come loose from the silty earth. There was no way to anchor itself. Driven by gravity, the relentless ice shoved it forward. The Terminator crashed over a waterfall into the glacier below.

It sank like a stone.

SITUATION CRITICAL. TOTAL SYSTEM FAILURE IMMINENT.

Freezing water penetrated its circuits. Tons of glacial ice squeezed it like a vise. Its cranial case caved inward, threatening its vulnerable central processing unit. The grizzly bear’s tooth floated loose. Facing termination, the T-600 tried to transmit an update to Skynet, but the dense frozen mass above it blocked the signal. Its solitary red sensor flickered dimly amidst the frigid blue coldness.

The Terminator had no regrets. It felt no fear. It could only futilely attempt to fulfill its programming—until it could not.

Water invaded its neural network. Electricity arced within its skull. The colossal pressure crushed the CPU. The blood-red sensor went black.

WARNING: SYSTEM FAIL—

Alaska terminated the invader.

Molly limped to shore, her stockinged foot crunching through the thin ice at the very edge of the stream. Her ankle felt like it was bruised, not broken. A soggy sock was already starting to freeze solid, though. As soon as she reached land, she peeled it off and shoved it into her pocket. She’d be lucky if she didn’t end up losing a toe or two to frostbite.

But she was alive. And the Terminator was history.

Works for me.

Sitka slid down the hill to meet her, followed quickly by Folger.

“Yikes!” the girl exclaimed. “Thought you were a goner for sure!” Jagged floes of ice rushed downstream after the Terminator. “Metal didn’t know when to quit!”

“They never do,” Molly said. She shot Sitka a dirty look. “You are so grounded.”

The teenager shrugged it off.

“Worth it.” She fished a fresh pair of socks from her overstuffed pockets and handed them to Molly. “Get my red armband now?”

“Maybe when you learn to follow orders.” She put both socks on over her bare foot, grateful for Sitka’s packrat tendencies. Then she glanced at Folger. “Thought I told you to get her out of here.”

The man threw up his hands.

“You try controlling this brat.” He crossed his arms across his chest. “And I don’t hit kids, no matter how much they deserve it.”

Fair enough, Molly thought. She couldn’t really complain. Sitka and Folger had come through when she needed them, orders or no orders. Typical, she reflected. Humans don’t just follow instructions blindly. We’re unpredictable. We deviate from our programming. That’s what makes us different from the machines.

Ernie Wisetongue would approve.

The glow from the burning camp lit up the night. The flames had even reached the breaker now. By morning, nothing would be left of the old mining town but ashes and rubble. The bodies of their fallen comrades were already being cremated along with their homes. She glanced up at the sky. Still no sign of any HKs, but she knew they would be here soon.

Molly turned her back on the blaze.

“Time to go.”

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

2003

Losenko and Ivanov rushed into the control room. The pinging of the unknown vessel’s sonar echoed within the command center—it was a sound no submariner ever wanted to hear. Anxious crewmen gazed upward at the ceiling, wondering who had found them after all this time. Ironically, it was the most animated that Losenko had seen them in many weeks. Fear displaced the malaise that had hung over the men since Judgment Day.

“Do we have an identification?” the captain demanded, reclaiming the conn. “Report!”

Sonarman Yuri Michenko was ready with an update.

“A warship, sir. Less than four kilometers away and closing fast. Acoustic signature indicates a Kashinclass destroyer.” Behind a pair of thick glasses, the youth’s eyes gleamed with excitement. “I think it’s the Smetlivy, sir!”

One of ours? Losenko could scarcely believe it. Smetlivy was a four-ton destroyer driven by powerful gas turbine engines. Deployed as a guided missile platform, it boasted an impressive array of missiles, torpedoes, rocket launchers, and close-range guns. It was also, he recalled, one of the first Russian warships designed to seal itself off from radioactive fallout in the event of nuclear war. It made sense that the destroyer might have survived Judgment Day.

The mood in the command center instantly shifted from apprehension to jubilation. Smiles broke out across the faces of men who had thought they were alone in the world. A hubbub of excited voices almost drowned out the pinging of the warship’s sonar.

“It’s a miracle!” the helmsman exclaimed. “We’ve found our brothers!”

Even Ivanov appeared elated by the news. His sullen expression lightened; for the first time in too long, he looked like the intrepid young officer Losenko remembered.

“Shall we rise to meet them, sir?” he inquired.

“With discretion, Mr. Ivanov.” The captain understood the men’s enthusiasm, and even shared it to a degree, but he was cautious as well. He had not forgotten what he had found on the mainland months ago. Anarchy and violence had consumed the world they knew. Civilization was a thing of the past. With the Motherland in chaos, there was no guarantee that the Gorshkov and the Smetlivy still served the same masters. He did not wish to blindly welcome pirates—or worse. “Ascend to periscope depth.