Rising Storm

politics, and his project. Clea actually enjoyed talking about that last subject though.

So, no, he wouldn't risk antagonizing her. By the time she got back, everything should be settled and then she could begin work on the most important thing in the world. A thrill of anticipation shot through her.

Skynet!

Clea approached the downed leopard seal at a jog, moving effortlessly over the irregular, slippery surface of the ice. Had the humans been watching, she would have crept up on it, as if it was going to jump up and savage her. But she could plainly see that it was unconscious, and hear the rhythm of its heartbeat and breathing.

The I-950 quickly plucked the orange-tipped dart from its side and stowed it away in her pouch. Then she pulled out a radio harness, tested it, and fitted it around the seal's body. Pulling out a punch, she attached a tag to its flipper.

All of this was done at speeds far exceeding the human norm. It kept her warmer and she saw no reason to suffer when there wasn't anyone to witness her relative comfort. She couldn't push her metabolism too hard, unfortunately, as the supply of food was both limited and carefully calculated. So, like the humans accompanying her, her socks froze to the soles of her feet and she actually needed the multiple layers of clothing she wore.

Pulling a syringe out of her jacket, where it had been kept warm until this moment so the saline medium didn't freeze, she carefully flushed the needle to eliminate air bubbles. Inside, just barely visible to the most refined sight her augmented eyes could manage, were the microscopic machines that would allow her control over this animal.

She regretted the size of the things, but it was the best she could do with the materials at hand, the constant surveillance, and supplies so carefully monitored.

The I-950 had only gotten away with the limited number she'd managed to cobble together because she was using minute pieces of parts she then destroyed in 'experiments.'

Each machine had a tail, like a sperm, that would allow it to swim through the fluid surrounding the seal's brain to the area it was programmed to affect. There it would gently drop onto the surface of the brain and adhere itself by releasing a microscopic drop of surgical glue. Then tiny filaments would spin out, attaching themselves to crucial parts of the mammal's brain—essentially a more limited form of the machine-neuron symbiosis that made up her brain, and derived from the same technology.

Not for the first time, she wondered how much of what Skynet would know in the future would come from research, and how much through a closed timelike loop from her. With an effort, she pushed these musings aside; the question was simply unanswerable, as was the question of where the information came from in the 'first place.' That was meaningless, when time travel was factored into the equation.

The machines would respond to signals sent through a special transmitter she'd

added to the one on the radio harness. This should allow her to see and hear through the animal's eyes and ears. How well that would work, exactly, she had yet to find out. The transmitter would also allow her to excite certain portions of the seal's brain to elicit a desired response. Relentless, violent rage, for example.

In a world without Terminators she had to improvise.

Clea plunged the needle into the seal's neck at the base of the skull and inserted the machines.

'Clea! What did you just do?' Hiram Locke trundled gingerly over to her across the ice. 'Did I just see you inject air into that seal?'

She couldn't see his face at all, as it was covered by a fleece balaclava and mirrored goggles, but she could tell from his voice that his expression as disapproving. 'Hiram!' she snapped back. 'Wouldn't that kill the animal?'

He hesitated. 'Yes,' he said.

'As we both already know that, what possible reason would I have to do something so stupid?'

Locke looked around, as though hoping for backup. 'What were you doing?' he asked uncertainly.

'I was trying to get a blood sample. But my fingers are numb and I missed the vein. Would you like to give it a try?' She stood and held out the syringe.

'No, no,' he said, backing a step, holding up his mittened hands.

She took a step closer to him. 'I had the impression you didn't think I knew how to use one of these.' Her voice was hard, leaving no doubt as to how she felt about his interference. 'Wouldn't you like to demonstrate?'

'Sorry,' Locke said, continuing to back away. 'I spoke out of turn.'

'What do you want' Clea asked.

She wasn't happy that he'd come looking for her. He was supposed to be a couple of miles away with his partner. She'd been taking chances and he might have seen something. But the risks had been unavoidable. Her time alone was severely limited; safety regulations demanded that no one go out on the ice alone. She'd only managed to acquire this time by making herself completely unendurable to the two humans.

Still, I shouldn't have been taken unaware like that.

With her whole head muffled by a balaclava, goggles, and a fur-trimmed hood, even her computer-enhanced senses were severely hobbled. She judged that she was currently human normal in the realm of her senses. Which put her way ahead of her companions.

Still, she should be more alert than a human. Especially because of the reduction in her abilities. Clea wondered if at some level she was trying to get caught. Or perhaps I'm looking for an excuse to kill a human. Perhaps it was frustration over how long it was taking to get Skynet on-line.

The computer that would one day be Skynet was exceptional, but it was just a machine, completely empty of consciousness. Being in the presence of such a

truncated version of her creator was acutely painful in the emotional sense. It certainly kept her own computer busy balancing her brain chemistry. Perhaps too busy.

'We were concerned,' Locke said. 'You're not supposed to be alone out here. If anything happened to you…'

She laughed at him. 'If anything happens to me it will be my own fault and there'd be nothing you could do about it.'

'Well, I don't want to be the one to tell Tricker that you were left alone out here like this.' His voice was sullen.

'Then don't tell him.' Clea shrugged one shoulder. 'What he doesn't know won't bother him. Do you think I'm going to complain to him about it when we get back?' She leaned toward him. 'Look, I have my work and you have yours. And guess what? My work is more important to me than yours is. I don't want to help you, or hang out with you, when I could be accomplishing things on my own.'

They'd discussed all of this, ad nauseam, before they all set out to work this morning. Possibly the human was nervous and wanted to cover his butt in case Tricker somehow found out about her working independently.

'By the way, if we're not supposed to be alone out here, where the hell is Kushner?'

Locke shuffled his heavily booted feet. 'He'll be all right.'

'Well, so will I!' Clea snapped in frustration.

The scientist drew himself up. 'But you're a woman.'

Does he honestly think I'm unaware of my gender? she wondered, momentarily confused. Her computer gave her a prompt. *Human females have historically been considered the weaker sex.* She almost laughed aloud.

'Yes,' she agreed quietly, 'I'm a woman.' Sort of. 'But I'm also a lot younger than both of you and in much better shape. I suggest that you two watch out for each other and leave me to my no-doubt-deserved fate.'

'There's no need for you to get snippy,' Locke said huffily. 'I'm only trying to help.'

'There's no need to get patronizing. Go away, I'm busy.'

They stared at each other. It's a good thing he can't really see my face, the I- 950