she shrugged. 'I like his work. C'mon in.'

The space was small and somewhat cluttered, but it was clean and as neat as it could be given the crowded conditions. The bed looks comfortable, he thought, glancing at the fur-covered double bed. He resolutely turned his eyes and mind away.

'Anything I can do to help?' he asked.

'Yeah. Sit down and stay out of my way.' She went to a camp-stove setup and got it started. 'You can keep me entertained. Tell me about yourself.'

If only I could, he thought automatically. Then: Hey, wait a minute, it's post-Judgment Day! I can tell her about myself.

Well, except for the part about his father not being born yet.

Which actually was a big part of the story.

'I was raised by my mom,' he said. 'Mostly in Central America and points south. She, ah, she never got along well with the authorities. I never knew my father.'

But I will! In fact, I'm going to set him up with my mom, which is weird stuff.

'Um, grew up all over the place, never finished high school…'

This sounds depressing, but it was actually kinda cool, most of the time. Not the times we were being pursued by Terminators, or my time in foster care, but a lot of the time.

'Sounds a lot like my folks!' Ninel grinned at him over her shoulder. 'What was your mom in trouble for? Environmental work? Peace activist?'

'Ah… blowing up computer factories, mostly,' John said, and hastily added: 'But she didn't hurt people. She got blamed for a lot of stuff… other elements… did.'

'It works—well, used to work—that way,' Ninel said sympathetically.

He shook his head. 'I don't really like talking about myself.'

Because even now some well-meaning individual might think I'd look better in a straitjacket. 'You could tell me more about yourself,' he suggested.

'I'm cooking. Tell me what you've been doing since Judgment Day.'

This was the first time he'd heard the term outside his own family, and it chilled him. 'What?'

She looked up from what she was doing. 'Judgment Day?' she said. 'That's what my friends call it.'

'Oh.'

It had come from Skynet? Just when he thought he couldn't hate the damn thing anymore, it got, well, judgmental on him.

The first slab of bread hit the hot pan with a sizzle and he grinned in anticipation. 'Thank you for this,' he said.

She smiled at him. 'My pleasure.'

They gobbled most of a loaf of bread. Well, I'm gobbling most of a loaf, liberally covered with really rad wild-blueberry syrup. Again, the only thing missing was butter, but who cared, it was fantastic.

'I'm glad you liked it,' she said, clearing the plates.

'Let me do the washing-up,' John offered. 'It's the least I can do.'

'I will,' she said, grinning at his surprise. 'I'll just stoke the woodstove so we can have some hot water.'

He'd noted the chill in her house, but had said nothing, understanding her desire to be thrifty with the wood. It was backbreaking labor and he wondered if there were enough trees out there to keep the fires going this winter. Well, in Alaska, yeah…

He washed, she dried, and they talked and joked companionably. Ninel fed her dogs, much to their ecstatic gratitude, while John watched from a polite distance. Huskies were a little too close to wolves to take liberties with, in his opinion.

When they went back in she brewed some rose-hip tea.

'Tastes like math paper,' he said with a grimace.

She laughed and put a pot of honey on the table. 'We're probably the last generation that will know what that means. At least for awhile.'

He drizzled honey into his tea, looked up and met her eyes, and slowly smiled. She blushed and lowered her eyes, then looked up at him through her lashes.

He sipped his tea and smiled. 'That's better.'

Biting her lips, she took the honey pot and drizzled honey into her cup, then broke up laughing.

'Are we thinking the same thing?' he asked, grinning wickedly.

'Yes, I'm terribly afraid that we are,' she said, still laughing.

'Don't be afraid,' he said. He took her free hand in both of his. 'There's nothing to be afraid of.'

* * *

John held her in his arms and looked down at the bright head resting on his shoulder, feeling her soft, rhythmic breath upon his chest, and felt… wonderful. More relaxed than he had felt in a long time. He caressed her shoulder with his thumb and smiled.

He liked her. He knew it wasn't love; he'd had that with Wendy and he'd recognize it if it came to him again. But he really liked this girl, and who knew what that could lead to? He admired her self-reliance and enjoyed her sense of humor. He sensed, though, that she was one of those lost souls casting about for a noble cause. He'd like to be the one to give it to her…

'Where did you get the scars?' she said drowsily, tracing the lines down the left side of his face.

'Would you believe a cybernetically controlled leopard seal slashed my face?'

Ninel laughed and poked him in a sensitive spot. 'If you don't want to tell me, that's okay. But I like your sense of humor!'

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

ALASKA

Luddites?' John said, peering at the screen.

A trainee—he showed real promise at scout work—brought in another armful of split wood and pitched a few billets into the woodstove. It thumped and gave a muffled whoosh as he adjusted the air intake, and the day's damp chill receded a bit.

'Yes, sir. That's our intel,' Jack Brock said.

John rolled his eyes. Jack was still completely enamored of military parlance, while John Connor was already sick of it.

Better get over that, he thought with resignation. It was going to be the lingua franca for the next thirty years or more.

And every calling needs a jargon. It helps keep the organization's purpose sharp and clear.

'There must be millions of 'em,' Brock was saying.

Connor jerked his mind back to the matter at hand.

'Worldwide,' he agreed. 'Hundreds of thousands, at least.' He sat forward. 'Good work, Jack. Congratulate Reese and Susie for me on a job well done. Out.'

'Thanks, John. Will do. Out.'

Luddites. He'd known that Skynet had human assistance, but he'd never expected it to come from that quarter. The progress-hating, machine-scuttling, science-despising Luddites would seem to be the last people Skynet could get to help. And yet…

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