Rising Storm

Then he put on his hat and headed back to work. This was one of the things he liked about his boss; the man respected his employee's time. Tomorrow was, of course, the better time for this discussion, but many employers would insist on asserting their right to know everything right now!

He wondered where von Rossbach had been, and where Sefiora Krieger was, and why there was no luggage to take care of. With a sigh he admitted to himself that he might never know. Even Marietta had been unable to find out why the

senor had left, or about the fire at the Krieger estancia or anything. A sobering failure for both of them. Still, this was a new opportunity, they would have to see what time would bring them.

Dieter took a surreptitious sniff at himself. First a shower, then he'd check the mail while he waited for dinner. Marietta wouldn't slap just anything in front of him for his homecoming, so he had time. He took a deep, cleansing inhalation of the dry chaco air. It was good to be back. If Sarah was with them it would be perfect. He shook his head and went into the house, better not to think about what couldn't be helped. There was too much to do.

Sweeping back a damp lock of overlong hair from his forehead, von Rossbach resolved to get a trim as soon as he had time. He walked down the corridor to his office, opened the deeply carved oak door (imported at no doubt ridiculous cost by the original owner of the estancia), and entered his office. A quick check of the hidden program showed nobody had tried to tap in, bug the house, or put it under surveillance—at least nothing more sophisticated than entirely passive systems, or the Eyeball Mark One. His brows rose, half in relief, half in surprise.

All was tidy on the desk except for the pile of mail threatening to topple out of his in-tray. The most intriguing item was a legal-sized envelope of a rich cream color. Dieter slid it carefully from the pile.

The paper was of very high quality, with the return address embossed in gold.

The names Hoffbauer, Schatz and Perez announced that they were attorneys-at-law.

Frowning, von Rossbach slit the envelope with a rosewood opener and pulled out the documents it contained. When he saw what they were he felt a shock,

like the quick sizzle of electricity, just below his ribs. The documents gave him custody of John in the event of Sarah's death or disB appearance. There was a letter from her included in the package. The attorney, Perez in this case, cautioned that until Senor von Rossbach signed the documents, they were, or course, unenforceable.

Dieter stared at the envelope containing Sarah's letter numbly. Had she sensed disaster? He'd been in the field long enough to know that, sometimes, people got such feelings. He'd also been in the field long enough to know that sometimes people simply surrendered to those feelings and by doing so brought disaster on themselves and others.

But not Sarah, he thought. Sarah had a goal, and a task; fight Skynet, preserve John. And she would fight for both with the last breath in her body. This was just an example of her expertise in advanced planning. Unforeseen things happened during even the best-laid-out campaigns. So this was a contingency plan.

When did she do this? he wondered. Before the Terminator and the fire that destroyed her home, he was certain she did not trust him. Probably from the Caymans, then. By then she was letting him be a part of the team, getting to trust him. After the debacle in Sacramento he doubted she would have trusted him to take out the trash, let alone provide for her son. Dieter felt honored.

Of course I'll accept the responsibility, he thought. He'd contact Perez and see what could be done. Sarah being unavailable but not dead made things awkward from a legal standpoint, but few things were insurmountable. Particularly when Sarah's wishes were so plain.

That reminded him of another call he needed to make. Dieter pulled the phone toward him and entered the number Dyson had given him.

There were a series of clicks, one ring, and then a woman's voice said, 'Hello?'

'I'm calling for today's sailing report,' Dieter said.

'And you are?'

'Mr. Ross.'

'Thank you, Mr. Ross. It looks like smooth sailing from now on.'

'Thank you,' Dieter said, and hung up just as John entered the room. 'Good news,' he said with a relieved smile. 'Your mother is out of danger.'

John flopped into the visitor's chair and breathed out. 'Thank God,' he said. He leaned forward and scrubbed his face vigorously with his hands.

'Blaaahdddyaaa!' he said, and leaned back. 'She's okay.' John sat for a moment, contemplating a spot of sunshine on Dieter's office floor, just letting himself feel his relief. He nodded. 'Good,' he said quietly. 'Good. So all we have to worry about now'—a sardonic smile lifted one corner of his mouth—'is what happens next.'

'For your mother, once she's well enough, back to the asylum.' Von Rossbach let his expression show that he didn't like the prospect one bit. 'At least until we can do something about it.' He ran a finger down the length of the document the lawyers had sent him and decided to tell John. He'd want to know. 'For you, back to school.'

'School?' John said after a beat. 'You think I've got time to screw around with school?'

Dieter held up his hand to stop what promised to become a tirade. 'You should know that your mother has designated me your guardian until your majority, or until she returns.'

'And what?' John said. 'That weirds you out so much you can't wait to get rid of me? My mother has a business that needs to be run,' he pointed out, then waved a hand to erase that. 'More importantly, do you think Skynet is finished? When Dyson told us that Cyberdyne had another backup site?'

Von Rossbach flipped his hand at him. 'Are you suggesting that we go after it?

Because, frankly, that would be suicide. That site has, no doubt, been more than adequately protected since our attack on Cyberdyne.'

'Protected?' John shook his finger. 'No, no, no. I'll go you one better. They've not only 'protected' that site, but they've built a clone of the work they were doing in California on some remote military base somewhere.'

Looking thoughtful, Dieter nodded slowly. It was possible; the military loved redundancy. 'They probably wouldn't trust Cyberdyne to bring this project in safely after what happened the first time,' the Austrian murmured.

'Y'know, it kinda scares me, but I'm beginning to understand how these people think,' John said, tapping his fingers restlessly on the arms of his chair. 'And like Mom said, events seem to want to work out in a certain way.'

Dieter nodded again. 'Where are you going with this, John?'

'I'm trying to point out that we can't afford to divide our efforts. There's a storm coming, and we need to prepare for it; we need to set priorities and stick to them.

Me playing schoolboy isn't going to accomplish a damn thing.'

He leaned his head back against his chair. 'Our most immediate task is to find Skynet and keep it from going on-line. The longer we can do that, the fewer, I hope, bombs will be available to it— Judgment Day will already be a lot smaller than if it had happened back fifteen years ago, the way the 'original' history went.

The fewer bombs it has, the more lives we can save. The more lives we save, the more soldiers we have to fight the machines. Because they are coming. I'm sure of that now.' He leaned back, his young face serious. 'School is just a waste of time tor me. There's nothing I could learn there that you couldn't teach me faster, and better.' John grinned. 'Assuming you're willing to teach me.'

The Austrian frowned and rubbed his chin in doubt; was this a sixteen-year-old trying to weasel out of school, or the future savior of mankind trying to get on with his important work? Then, with a sigh, he returned the younger man's smile.

'You're a quick study, John, it's no chore teaching you.'

'Good. Because we may have years, or we may have months, there's just no telling.'

'I just can't help wondering how your mother would feel about your dropping out of school,' von Rossbach said glumly. 'I wouldn't want to fail her trust.'

'Hey,' John said, 'Mom has always kept her eye on the ball. And for her the ball