Tunney surveyed the unfortunate detainees with a jaundiced eye. As he contemplated a situation that, based on experience, made no sense, movement at the far end of the room caused him and his companions to hastily raise their weapons.
Almost as quickly, they relaxed. David even smiled. A larger compliment of their colleagues had broken into the chamber from another corridor.
Pushing his way through the internment area, Connor forced himself to ignore the pleading and extended hands. He was making his way toward a set of illuminated screens that fronted compact consoles. The latter, thankfully, were still functioning—but for how much longer it was impossible to tell. One thing he did know—they’d better work quickly. Hefting his communicator, he spoke into the pickup.
“Olsen, objective located. There’s something else you have to see.” Putting up the hand unit, he moved to the computation complex.
The general arrived soon after. Taking one glance at the glowing, living complex, he turned and barked a name.
“Barbarossa!”
Immediately, the team’s lead technician hurried to join the two men. Soldiers moved around them, sealing the location. The tech halted, stunned by what he was seeing.
“Come on, man,” Olsen prodded him. “We don’t know how much time we’re going to have here. Get to work.” Nodding silently and slightly dazed, the tech drew his battlefield laptop and began fumbling with a handful of cables. Down here they didn’t dare risk broadcasting their presence or any attempt at entry by trying for an over-the-air hookup.
“Spread out,” Olsen told his troops. “Secure the perimeter.” He pointed. “I’ve got a big gap over here. We’re busy and I’m not in the mood for any surprises.” Turning back to the silently watching Connor, he lowered his voice. “Why didn’t we know about this?”
The tech chief interrupted him.
“I’m in. Looks like the central server cluster. I think it’s still intact.” Like a wasp assaulting a termite hive, he tore into the protective programming to expose still active links, circuitry diagrammatics, relays. Some of it was like nothing they had ever seen before, incredibly advanced and distressingly incomprehensible. Some of it was familiar.
Enough of it was familiar.
Overall, the hack was accomplished with admirable speed. Imagery soon filled the brightly lit screen directly opposite the three men. There were no pictures, no accompanying music. No video and no shout-outs. It was all code and schematics, cold and disciplined. Sometimes it read right to left, sometimes top to bottom. Over time, the techs had learned how to interpret Skynet-speak.
So had Connor.
“Here we go.” Barbarossa muttered as a flood of information began to spill across the screen. “Seems that these people here were to be taken to the northern sector for some kind of R and D project.” His fingers danced across the portable keyboard in front of him.
“There’s more.”
Something on the screen caught Connor’s attention.
Olsen turned. “Hardy! Front and center!”
Connor ignored the general, his attention focused on the screen and the tech chief.
“Wait. Go back.”
Barbarossa hesitated, realized who had made the appeal, and immediately complied. Connor’s eyes widened as the section he had requested reappeared and was played back more slowly. David crowded close to his commander for a better look.
“Jesus, Connor,” he muttered, “it’s just like you said it would be.”
“No.” Connor exhaled sharply. “It’s not. It’s worse.” He nodded at the tech. “Okay, I’ve seen what I needed to see. Resume.”
Noticing that Connor was paying attention to the readouts rather than the prisoners, the impatient Olsen turned back to him.
“Sir.” Staring wide-eyed at the screen, Barbarossa’s voice was almost inaudible as he tried to understand what he was seeing. “Sir....”
Olsen had moved closer to the other man.
“Connor, this isn’t your business. Get your nose out of there.” He jerked his head to his right, in the direction of the pleading prisoners. “Let’s cut these sorry bastards loose.”
Intent on the information that was pouring across the screen in front of him, Barbarossa finally managed to raise his voice even as his fingers continued to race over his laptop’s keyboard. Pausing the info flow, he glanced back at the general.
“I’ve found something else, sir. Looks like intel on our people.”
Olsen nodded dourly. Such a discovery was hardly surprising.
“This isn’t the time or the place to try extended analysis. Just send
Another pair of techs came forward and began compiling a temp surface feed utilizing the officer’s computer. With a number of satellite dishes on the surface still intact it was just a matter of locating a live contact within the
