Rising Storm

reminded him.

John licked his lips; that was a good sign. He'd only just told her that.

'Okay,' he said. 'Snog's the one in charge.'

What the hell did that mean? 'Snog's in charge?' she said aloud. 'Get out!'

That last was a shot in the dark, but humans, especially young ones, tended to take matters of hierarchy seriously. Assuming that's what he was referring to.

The I-950 stretched her hands, then clenched them into fists as she waited for his response.

John chuckled, relieved, and stood away from the wall. 'Well, it looked that way to me. C'mon, open up.'

'Gladly,' the I-950 said.

John's back slammed against the wall and his gun came up. That didn't sound like Wendy.

Tricker looked down at the top of the elevator cab and sighed. Then he took hold of one of the cables, grimacing at the grease on it, and swung himself out into the shaft. He crooked an elbow and leg around the rigid steel rope and let himself slide down in a controlled fall until his feet touched the roof of the elevator itself. Kneeling by the repair hatch, he went to work.

At the sound of footsteps on the roof of the cab, Dieter pulled back into the farthest corner from the hatch in the ceiling. I wish I had something besides a knife, he thought. But the gun was another casualty of his unfortunate midnight ramble. If I was someone I was training I'd kick my ass!

The hatch cover came off, revealing pitch-darkness above. Von Rossbach hunkered down, knife at the ready, and licked dry lips.

'Okay, just… just keep it cool,' Tricker said. 'I've got a gun, I've got the drop on you, I've got the upper hand, and I can get this egg crate moving again. So are you gonna cooperate or do I have to shoot you?'

Dieter straightened up, his eyes on the darkness above him, and held his hands up.

'You wanna toss that knife over this way?' Tricker asked. When the knife clattered into the corner he made another suggestion. 'Get on your knees, cross your ankles, put your hands behind your head, fingers locked.'

When von Rossbach had complied Tricker dropped lightly down and picked up the knife. He looked it over.

'Nice,' he said. 'Okay, what's your story?'

I hate it when people finally ask that question. Dieter thought. I probably won't answer, or I won't tell the truth, or I'll tell the truth and they don't believe me and then they start hitting me. Why do they even bother to ask?

'Let me get you started,' Tricker said. 'You're here to stop the Cyberdyne project, right?'

Dieter merely looked at him, saying nothing.

Tricker hunkered down in the far corner of the elevator, gun pointed at the big Austrian. 'You're wondering how I know that, aren't you?' he said. 'Well, I know who you are. Had to get a second look to be sure, though. You're Dieter von Rossbach.'

Still, Dieter said nothing, though it wasn't easy to hide his surprise.

'You're an actual playboy,' Tricker said with a grin. He looked off into the distance for a moment. 'The major and the playboy.' His eyes met von Rossbach's. 'Now there's a likely combination, isn't it?' He waited a moment for possible comments, then said, 'When Ferris admitted that he had a guest that he'd sent away before said guest could be questioned after Cyberdyne blew up, I naturally asked him some probing questions about you. He gave me the hard eyes

—you know, that look the military get when they're going to be stubborn.'

He grinned; Dieter stared. 'I did some checking on my own and found out zip.

You know what it says to me when a man with your money has no particular history? It says covert ops.' Tricker rose and spread his hands, never taking his eyes off von Rossbach. 'So as a professional courtesy I stopped pokin' around.'

He pointed the gun at Dieter. ' 'Cause Ferris said you were with him the whole time and I was pretty positive that he wasn't associated with Sarah Connor. And if he wasn't, why would you be? You were probably some friendly government's covert-ops guy, I thought. And why would they be on Sarah Connor's side?'

He hunkered down again. 'Only she has a way of bringing people around to her point of view, doesn't she? And her son disappeared from the base that night, never to be seen again.' He stared at Dieter for a bit, then he made a sweeping gesture with the gun. 'Until today. Until that very well-trained kid kicked my ass.' He stood up, suddenly angry. 'That kid is John Connor!'

'You sound surprised,' Dieter said mildly.

'Wait till you get a look at his face; you'll be surprised, too,' Tricker snarled.

Before von Rossbach could respond he hurried on. 'I've read her medical transcripts from Pescadero, you know.' He leaned toward Dieter. 'Her story is wacky! How come everybody buys into it?'

Dieter smiled. 'Sarah is convincing because sooner or later evidence shows up to corroborate everything that she says. When you shoot someone about fifty times with an assault rifle, until their steel skeleton is exposed and sparks are flying out of their guts and they still keep coming, you begin to suspect that she's been telling you the truth.' He shrugged. 'Empirical evidence is always the best.'

Tricker just looked at him. 'So who are you working for?'

Dieter shook his head. 'This isn't official.'

Tricker nodded judiciously. 'Not official, huh? I take great comfort from that.'

He cocked his head. 'I know Connor's story about the kid.'

'That I've taken on faith,' Dieter conceded. 'But once you've met a Terminator, it's much easier to believe.'

'Tell me this—does it bother you that if you succeed in destroying this human-hating supercomputer that John Connor will disappear?'

Von Rossbach blinked. 'I hadn't thought about it.'

'Sure,' Tricker said. 'If there is no supercomputer then there are no time-traveling Terminators and no need to send some guy back in time to stop one and save Sarah Connor and incidentally impregnate her with the kid who would send

him back to get killed. Y'know, presumably at some point they start to keep that under their hats or they'd never have gotten a volunteer to come back, right?'

Dieter shrugged. 'It would bother me a great deal to lose John; he's a good kid.

But I know that he would gladly give his life to save several billion others.' He looked up at Tricker. 'Wouldn't you?' Tricker shrugged in answer and Dieter smiled slowly. 'Yes, you would. You'd consider it an honor.'

With a barely visible smile of embarrassment, Tricker shrugged. 'Whatever,' he said. 'Facedown on the floor, please. Lock your hands behind your head, keep your ankles crossed. I've gotta get this bucket moving.'

When von Rossbach had complied Tricker went to the control panel and inserted a card he'd taken from his pocket into a slot. A panel popped open to reveal a keypad. Tricker tapped out a number and the elevator started moving again.

'Yeah,' Tricker said, putting the card away, 'last time I checked, Clea Bennet looked like she was gonna take a great big bite out of your little friend Wendy.'

' What?' Dieter started to heave himself to his feet. 'Wendy is alone with Bennet?'

Tricker pressed the barrel of his gun into the Austrian's kidneys. 'Down, boy,'

he advised.

Dieter collapsed. 'She's one of them!' he said desperately.

'A Terminator, you mean?' Tricker said in disbelief.