The Future War

The time was almost ripe. Soon it would have achieved the right number of augmented vehicles to act as Hunter-Killer machines until such time as the real HKs could be manufactured according to the information that the 1-950 had downloaded into its files. Soon, it would control all of the nuclear arsenal of the United States.

* * *

ALASKA

The door banged behind Sarah Connor and she headed for her computer, throwing her coat and mittens on a sofa as she passed, and pausing half a second to pitch another section of log into the woodstove.

That's my human whirlwind, Dieter von Rossbach thought, following in her wake. Let's see if I can give it that delicate personal touch instead.

Whistling silently, he thumbed the first of the list of numbers on the phone routed through his computer, and waited—waited a fair thirty seconds, because the call was being encrypted, broken down into separate digital bundles, and shot through half a dozen anonymous remailers all around the world.

Paranoia as a way of life, he thought.

'Hello, Chen?' he said, conscious of how Sarah's hair stirred as she cocked half an ear in his direction. 'Yes, it's me. We think it's started, Chen. Be ready.'

He winced and took the phone from his ear. Loudest click I've heard in many a year, he thought.

'No joy?' Sarah said.

'I think my feelings are hurt,' Dieter said, hanging up the phone.

Sarah looked up from her screen, frowning. 'But did he hear you?'

Dieter shrugged his big shoulders. 'I believe he did; I hope so.' He sighed. 'But what can we really tell them? We've found this pattern, it seems significant, we think the time is near, be prepared.' He shrugged. 'The people I'm talking to are as prepared as anyone can be, you know? But how can you really be prepared for Armageddon?'

He scanned down the list—three more in China, seven in South Korea, five in Japan, two in Malaysia, six in Indonesia, around thirty in Australia…

'It's not Armageddon,' Sarah said. 'It's not even Judgment Day. This isn't divine retribution, it's an industrial accident on a major scale.' She turned back to her screen. 'And we will win.'

Dieter gave her a fond smile and then went to the next name on his list.

In his own workroom John was trying to trace down more accidents of the type his mother had been tracking. He'd been at it now for about four hours and his eyes felt dry. He stretched and went into the kitchen to make coffee.

When it was ready he made up a tray and brought it to Dieter's office.

'What time is it on the East Coast?' Sarah was asking as he came in.

Dieter checked his watch. 'Five a.m. Too early unless we've got more to give them than this,' he cautioned. He grinned at the sight of John's loaded tray. 'Let me adopt you, John, it's the least I can do.' He cleared a space on his desk.

John gave him a weak smile in acknowledgment of the joke, laid down the tray, and turned to his mother. As if by instinct she looked up and met his eyes.

'Yesterday there were several 'incidents,' ' he said. 'All fitting the pattern you found.' He paused as Dieter handed Sarah a cup of coffee.

'And? But?' she prompted.

'But for the last twenty-four hours, nothing. There have been some accidents, but nothing on the scale we've been seeing, and none that were absolutely freaky involving cars manufactured in the last two years. It's like they're all on their best behavior.'

Sarah and Dieter lowered their cups as one and looked at each other.

'This is it,' she said.

* * *

Kurt Viemeister thought the bunker deep under the Antarctic ice had a certain raw grandeur; the glimmer of the red lights, the blue of screens and readouts, the murmur of voices, a hint of ozone in the air—and the knowledge of the mile of rock and ice above him, with the blizzards of the Antarctic winter scouring the surface. He stood beside his terminal at parade rest, watching the purposeful bustle of the technicians and the world-scale schematic map of the U.S. armed forces' strategic assets on the big plasma screen at the end of the room.

There were other scientists around him, but he ignored them.

He considered them self-important cattle and discounted their contributions as negligible. Kurt had more respect for the engineers, though he thought of them as little more than exalted technicians.

It was he who had brought Skynet's intelligence to this level, he who had developed it to a near-human degree of self-awareness. If anything, he resented the government's insistence on this test. Skynet was ready, and far less flawed than the average humans who'd had their fingers on the button for the last fifty years or so.

He stood in a heroic pose, with muscular legs braced, his massive arms folded across a mighty chest, little suspecting that every-one in the room, including his super-computer mind child, thought he was a complete prick.

Orders were called out, the technicians repeated them and tapped in commands, announcing their completion and standing down until more orders came. Everyone tensely watched the screens as all manual control of nuclear weapons, whether in silos under Kansas cornfields, on submarines, or in aircraft, was transferred to the control of the most awesome computer mind ever designed by man. The final command was tapped in.

On the screen above Viemeister the words Program Loaded

appeared, followed by

Standing By

The room broke out in spontaneous applause at this sign of smooth transition.

Then the lights went out. After a moment's silence a murmur went up, and a general asked plaintively: 'Was that supposed to happen?'

The main screen remained live and everyone's eyes were locked on the only light in the room.

Execute: Firefall

Loading Program

Commence Firefall Yes/No

Yes

CHAPTER FIVE

SARAH'S JOURNAL

When we heard that the 'accidents' had stopped we knew the time had come. Without even discussing it, we moved into the fallout shelter and stepped up our efforts to warn our comrades of the impending disaster.

We had three Digital Tightbeam Radios set up and all of us went to work. It was an encrypted microwave communications system that operated via satellite; Dieter set it up, calling in favors from his old friends in Section. He assured me that Skynet wouldn't be able to decode it, but then he said Skynet wouldn't even be aware of it. These are military satellites, he told me, now under the monster's control. He explained that Skynet wouldn't be aware of our system because he'd disguised our communications as part of Skynet's own.

I hoped he was right; I hoped Skynet had a million blind spots that we could exploit. We were going to need every advantage we could get.

We wouldn't know for a long time if any of those we warned had taken us seriously. But I had spent most of