The Future War

They share a lot of the same goals. Namely, reducing humanity in population and power. Of course I don't think that most Luddites want to reduce humanity to zero. But there would be some who would. He winced. Wendy would have hated this.

Connor moved out onto the now bustling floor of the once abandoned building that his mother had acquired— it had originally been HQ and smelter for a series of gold dredges.

They'd spent a lot of time and money improving the building from the inside before Judgment Day. Outside, they were well disguised as a semidilapidated series of aging buildings of unpainted pine. Inside, they were weather tight and roomy enough to provide barracks, offices, training areas, a canteen, and hardened storage for tons of electronic equipment.

John still went home occasionally; he needed his alone time.

But it made his heart swell with pride to see the people they'd recruited before Judgment Day pitching in and recruiting people themselves. The resistance was really shaping up.

It helps that we're not coming from behind this time, he thought. They'd drained Dieter's freely given fortune to build this. Exploited his every contact and resource, and it was paying off, visibly.

Now they were in a kind of race, to see if they could prevent Skynet from building its army, or at least defeating it far sooner than they had the first time.

Would that mean that Kyle Reese would never be born, or that having been born, he'd never be sent into the past?

Will I disappear midsentence one day? John wondered. Who cares? What's one life if I can save millions by giving mine.

He'd never liked the idea that he was destined to send his father to his death. If he could prevent that by ceasing to exist, well, C'est la guerre. He grinned. It isn't like I'd know.

COMODORO RIVADAVIA, ARGENTINA

'I'm not asking for anything like your full production,' Sarah said. 'I'm only asking for a slight increase to those countries you've already been supplying.'

'But all to the advantage of the United States,' Senor Reimer said. 'Do we really wish to see the United States once again so powerful?'

Sheesh! Sarah thought. To hear people down here talk, you'd think we were the Roman legions; invading everywhere, stealing everything that wasn't nailed down— including the people— and then pretending it was a good deal because one day the remaining folks would be citizens. We have our faults, God knows, but we weren't that bad.

Sarah's Spanish was virtually accent-free—with a tinge of Paraguay and Nicaragua—and she seldom bothered to mention that she was from California. It simplified things. Unfortunately, it was impossible to get this business done without being a bit more up-front.

For a moment she looked out the window, controlling her temper. Comodoro was on the northern edge of Patagonia; steep ground fell to the cold-looking gray water, and oil storage tanks and pipelines and refinery cracking towers were everywhere.

There wasn't much of a tang in the air because the wind blew constantly—she'd considered hiding out around here when she was on the run with John after the attack on Cyberdyne, but the perpetual howling and the bleak flat landscape didn't appeal to her. Comodoro's other buildings were mostly medium size and flat-roofed; one of the bigger ones had a ten-story-high colored Coke ad, something that sheep ranchers came miles to see.

And they have to sell the oil, she told herself. Argentina hadn't been badly hit—no actual nuclear bombs, yet. That didn't prevent economic collapse, riots, regional warlordism, and general crisis. She'd have preferred to deal in Venezuela, but the Maricaibo fields there had been major enough to be on a target list.

'It is unlikely that the United States will ever be that powerful again,' she said aloud. 'In the meantime, there are people there that need our help. And there are opportunities here for those with the vision to take them. South America is in a position to take its place as a world leader.'

Reimer looked thoughtful. 'Ah, but which South American country shall lead? That is the question.'

Long training kept Sarah from rolling her eyes and yelling:

'No, it's not, you idiot!'

The United States never would have gotten powerful enough for morons like this one to resent it if the big question had been: Which state is going to be the most important? No wonder Simon Bolivar, South America's equivalent to George Washington, had died despairing and saying his career had been like trying to plow the sea…

Things would have been tougher still, of course, if the early Americans had had Skynet to contend with instead of just the British. But telling Senor Reimer about a great computer menace would certainly end this already shaky interview.

Poor bastard, she thought. Sooner or later Skynet's going to come after you, too— with nukes or plagues or HKs, or all of the above.

She'd worked her way from Mexico to near the tail of Argentina reaffirming arrangements for food and other supplies to be shipped to their resistance cells in the United States. But suddenly some people she already had contracts with had begun to object that she didn't represent the U.S. government. Which was weird because she'd never claimed to. Since whipping out a pistol and blowing them away was not going to help, Sarah had applied diplomacy and the occasional—

All right, more than the occasional bribe.

Oddly enough, it was the criminals who had been most likely to stick to their agreements. But then, they knew she might whip out a pistol and blow them away. The certain knowledge that it was a possibility kept things conveniently civilized; not to mention that they knew she had backup who'd rescue her or at least avenge her death. Which was especially useful because she was a woman trying to work within a very macho society.

The wise criminal knew that a gun didn't care if its user wore nail polish and perfume. But a lot of the politicians and business-men she'd dealt with were sexist goons who, if she drew down on them, might well mention how big the gun looked in her dainty little hand.

So far, though, in spite of complications, her success rate had been pretty high. But fuel was the crucial element, and that was hard to pry out of the hands of oilmen. Particularly those who suddenly saw themselves as world leaders.

If only she could tell them that they were in more danger than they imagined. But Skynet wasn't ready to make its move yet, so any attempt to reveal its evil plans would get her laughed out of South and Central America and possibly right into another mental institution.

Never thought I'd wish to see a Terminator, Sarah thought.

But I really, truly, wish one would crash in here right now and smack the smirk off Reimer's fat face.

Reimer's assistant burst in from the outer office, his dark eyes shining. 'Sir! An American submarine has just entered the harbor!'

Even better than a Terminator, Sarah thought, though she was impressed by the timing. This might actually be something she could use. Assuming she could prevent the Argentine government from seizing it.

By mutual agreement, she and Reimer ended the meeting, scheduling their discussion for another day.

***

Captain Thaddeus Chu was not happy. He hadn't been happy since he'd disobeyed Admiral Read's orders to report to the nuclear cinder that was San Diego. Read had answered Chu's every request for confirmation with the proper codes, and the voice was definitely the admiral's. Other officers had agreed with Chu about that. But they, too, had noticed something not quite right with the way he spoke.

Something besides his insane order to commit suicide.