Infiltrator

lights swam before his eyes, his breath coming in sharp controlled gasps. But they turned inexorably, as though his was the strength of a child. Von Rossbach began to know real terror. This had never happened to him before.

Sarah handed something to John and he came up behind Dieter. 'Let it in,' John said.

'Let it!' Dieter grunted. 'I can't stop it!'

'Don't let it all the way in,' Sarah said quickly.

'John, this isn't a good idea,' Dieter said from the corner of his mouth. 'We don't have any guns.'

John gave his head a little shake, frowning. 'Guns wouldn't work anyway. We'll use this.' He held up the lump of plastique that his mother had given him. In his other hand was the detonator.

'Oh, joy,' Dieter said weakly, closing his eyes.

Taking a deep breath and a firmer grip on the hatch's handles, he allowed them to turn. Then held on with all his might as the airstream sought to tear the door from his grip.

Three grasped the inside edge of the door frame with its left hand, pushed its right arm through the opening, and began to pull up its leg.

Dieter pulled the door to, catching the Terminator's forearm in the opening.

Three wasn't worried. It had tested its strength against the humans and it had won. It angled its arm outward and the door began to open again as it pulled its leg up.

John moved forward and wrapped the plastique around the Terminator's arm just below the elbow. He didn't want to permanently damage the door. Then he inserted the detonator and gave the cap a sharp twist.

'Fire in hole!' he shouted, and they dived for their seats and huddled behind them.

The door was flung open, crashing against the fuselage as the airstream took it.

The charge went off with a flash and a sharp bang, filling the thin air of the cabin with the smell of burnt explosive.

'What the hell are you people doing!' the pilot yelled frantically. 'What the hell was that?'

'SHUT UP!' Sarah yelled back, her hands working the soft puttylike explosive into a long snake between her palms.

When they looked up over the chair backs the Terminator was still holding on to the door frame despite its shattered upper arm. Slowly it fitted its left leg into the opening and began hoisting itself in, fighting the wind that threatened to rip it from the plane's side.

Sarah handed John another rope of plastique and a detonator and he and Dieter dived toward the door. John distracted the Terminator while von Rossbach slid in behind it and tried to pull the door to. With one big hand grasping the door frame, he reached for the handle.

The Terminator flailed its stub of an arm at John, then suddenly slammed its shoulder into Dieter. Von Rossbach's feet slid out from under him on the carpeted deck; he went down on his hip and looked up at the machine. It reached for him with its broken arm, looked at the ruined stub, then turned once again to John.

Dieter pushed himself to his knees and once again reached for the door, staying low to avoid another body blow. He grasped the door handle just as John got close enough to the Terminator to make Sarah gasp. Bracing his leg against the door frame, Dieter reached out and caught the door with his other hand and heaved, pulling with all his strength against the force of the air, every muscle screaming.

The Terminator gained purchase and began to pull its body forward. It was slower than it should have been, as though the small explosion had thrown it

partially off-line somehow. But it was still stronger than a human.

With a full-throated roar, von Rossbach pulled the door to, slamming it against the body of the Terminator. It turned its head toward the Austrian and continued to thrust its body forward as hard as it could.

John moved forward and wrapped the explosive just above the Terminator's knee and planted the detonator. He looked up at von Rossbach.

'Go!' von Rossbach told him.

Dieter could hardly let go. This monster would burst into the cabin like a shot.

Von Rossbach's mind supplied an unwanted vision of the Terminator coming through the door ripping the plastique off of its leg and planting it on his chest.

He pulled harder, gritting his teeth, until they grated, and stopped the thing's forward motion.

The charge went off after what seemed an eternity and Dieter was flung backward into the bulkhead, hard enough to knock him unconscious for a few seconds. When his blurred vision cleared he was greeted by the sight of the Terminator dangling in the open doorway, trying to angle its big body close enough to the plane to swing in through the door. Dieter found he couldn't move and all he could say was, 'Unhnnn!'

'John!' Sarah said, leaping forward. She ignored the pilot's shouts as she worked the last piece of plastique between her hands.

John grabbed the door and tried to drag it away from the fuselage. The hinges grated and moved reluctantly, but it was the massive push of the air that defeated

him. Sarah stopped what she was doing and leant her strength to his, pulling the door toward her with all her might.

Three watched the humans try to close the door. It saw both of its primary targets within its reach, if only it could get to them. Its left arm and leg dangled uselessly and several circuits had been fried. For the moment it had to watch them helplessly as it clung on by one hand and rapidly rerouted power.

At last it could once again move its right leg. It brought it up and hooked the door frame with its remaining foot. Then it thrust its head through the door.

Sarah and John gave a mighty heave and the door slammed onto the Terminator's head. It worked its way forward, scraping its ears off against the unyielding steel of the door and the frame. With the crisp sound of rending metal, it thrust the stump of its left arm into the gap and pulled itself farther in by pressing its chin against the door frame. Its shoulder inched forward.

Dieter staggered erect and swiped at the blood dripping from his nose, then joined them at the door, lending his weight and strength to theirs. The Terminator was stopped. For the moment.

'I want the head,' John said.

The head? the pilot thought. He couldn't have heard that right.

Sarah nodded, and leaving her son and Dieter to hold the Terminator, she began to spin a rope of plastique between her hands.

'I never saw anybody work it in quite that way,' Dieter said dreamily.

John looked at him, trying to see both his eyes, wondering if their friend was contused.

'It's how she works pastry,' he said. 'She does that to make these cinnamon thingies for Christmas.'

'Cinnamon bows,' Sarah said, distractedly.

She moved forward and attempted to wrap the plastique around the Terminator's neck. Three thrust its head forward and bit, its teeth flashing. Sarah jerked back with a gasp and looked into the mutilated face, with its glaring eyes.

You never get used to this, she thought, fighting back tears of frustration, her heart pounding. No one could ever get used to this.

She brought her hands forward and jerked back again while John and Dieter watched her. After a few more attempts Dieter reached forward and pushed up on the Terminator's forehead, lifting it back with some untapped resource of muscle power that vaguely surprised him. He almost let go when the thing's blue eyes shifted to glare at him and something within clenched and closed off his breath in sheer atavistic terror.

Sarah took advantage of the Terminator's momentary distraction to flip the rope of explosive around its throat like a neckerchief. It redoubled its efforts to sink its teeth into her as she tried to push the detonator into the soft substance.

With her lips tightly closed, Sarah took a deep breath, set the timer, and tried again. This time John lifted his hand to aid Dieter and the Terminator snapped its head up, attempting to grab him. Sarah pushed the detonator into place and then

grabbed John, yanking him away.