Trial By Fire

regain his title as savior of humanity, and watch as he builds, nurtures, and destroys the Resistance.”

An eerie feeling spread over Blair’s skin. It could have worked, too. Connor had been inside Skynet Central at the exact time that Skynet’s little kill-code deception was supposed to annihilate most of the Resistance cells around the world, including Connor’s own group. Those few who survived would have more important things on their minds than to wonder where Connor had been during the weeks or months of his Theta transformation.

Lajard was right—it had been a brilliant plan. And it had failed only because Marcus wasn’t as firmly under Skynet’s control as Skynet had thought, and Connor’s distrust of Skynet’s kill-code gambit had left his team in position to swoop in and finish the rescue that Marcus had started.

“I’m sure Skynet would have been very pleased,” Blair said. “Not so sure you’d have had such a happy ending. You really think Skynet would have left you and the others alive once the rest of humanity was gone?”

“The others, as in Susan and Nathan?” Lajard asked. “No, I imagine they would have eventually been dumped along with everyone else. Not much call for molecular biology and metallurgy once the Thetas and Terminators have served their purpose. But Skynet’s a computer, and I’m a computer programmer. There’ll always be a place in this new world for people like me.”

“That’s your shining hope?” Blair scoffed. “To live out your life as Skynet’s pet?”

“It’s not exactly the way I envisioned my future when I was a kid,” Lajard conceded. “But it beats the hell out of being a corpse.”

“You may still end up that way,” Blair said. “Because Skynet didn’t get to Connor. And you can forget your improvised substitute, because we are going to find and destroy Jik.”

“Don’t be so sure,” Lajard warned. “Nathan was never programmed with tactical skills, but Jik’s going to be a much harder nut to crack. And now that we have this nice Resistance helicopter to fly around in, he’ll do a terrific job of being John Connor.”

“Except that we know the truth,” Blair pointed out.

“Well, of course we’ll have to kill you and everyone else in Baker’s Hollow first,” Lajard said casually. “I assumed that went without saying.”

“Go ahead and try,” Blair said, fighting back a sudden shiver. “Even if you succeed, sooner or later the real Connor will figure out what’s going on and track you down.”

“Maybe,” Lajard said, his voice suddenly all sly and amused. “You assume he won’t already be on our side by then.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” she demanded.

“Oh, nothing,” Lajard said. “It’s just that when you said Skynet didn’t get to Connor... well, never assume, Williams. That’s all. Never, ever assume.”

“How many more are there?” Callahan asked as Kyle and Zac set down their latest satchel charges.

“Just the two,” Kyle said, eyeing the four bags Callahan had already placed against the tunnel walls and the two he and Zac had just delivered. “These ought to be enough, don’t you think?”

“Better safe than sorry,” Callahan said, grunting as he picked up one of the charges. “Go get them.”

Kyle frowned. There’d been something in Callahan’s voice just then.

“Go ahead, Zac,” he said. “I’ll stay here and give him a hand.”

“Both of you go,” Callahan ordered darkly. “I don’t want Zac having to lug two charges at the same time.”

“Go on, Zac,” Kyle repeated.

Zac didn’t move.

“What’s going on?” he asked suspiciously. “Callahan— oh. No, you can’t.”

“Then how?” Callahan snapped. “You saw the plunger. One of us has to stay here and trigger it. So quit arguing, and you and Reese get your butts back to the front of the tunnel.”

“We draw straws,” Zac insisted.

“We obey orders,” Callahan shot back.

“Wait a second,” Kyle said, staring down at the plunger. “It just has to be pushed in, right?”

“Right,” Callahan said, frowning. “Why?”

“I need a slab,” he said looking quickly around. “Concrete or metal, not too big.”

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Zac stiffen.

“They’re coming,” he murmured.

Kyle looked down the tunnel. In the distance, he could see the faint glow of red Terminator eyes.

The T-700s were on the move... and if they hadn’t spotted the intruders yet, that discovery was only seconds away.

“I need a slab,” he repeated, giving the area a second quick sweep. But there was nothing around them of the right size.

“Wait a minute,” Callahan said. He took the detonator and turned it over to point at the ceiling, then picked up one of the charges. “Grab that other one,” he told Kyle, setting his charge on the ground beside the detonator and angling it to the side so that releasing it would send it falling onto the plunger. “Brace its end against this one.”

Kyle obeyed, leaving the two satchels balanced against each other with the plunger beneath them.

“That should do,” Callahan said, glancing back at the Terminators as he got back to his feet. “Back to the tunnel face. Reese, you want me to do it?”

“No, I’ve got it,” Kyle said as the three of them sprinted down the uneven ground.

Seconds later, they were at the tunnel face.

“On the floor,” Callahan ordered Zac, dropping onto his face between the younger teen and the approaching Terminators. “Reese: go.”

Kyle dropped into a crouch, pressing the shotgun’s stock to his shoulder. The T-700s were coming up fast, their eyes bright enough to paint the tunnel walls and ceiling in a red glow. Lining up his sights on the satchel he’d braced against Callahan’s, Kyle fired.

The blast slammed into the charge, knocking it backward out of alignment and sending the other one dropping toward the plunger. Kyle squeezed his eyes shut—

With an ear-hammering explosion, the whole cluster blew up.

The blast of sound and superheated air slammed into Kyle’s face and chest, knocking him backward onto the tunnel floor. For an instant his mind flicked back to the massive gasoline explosion and fire back near the Moldering Lost Ashes building, the one where he’d thought he was dying—

And then someone had his arm and was hauling him back to his feet.

“Look!” Callahan shouted, his voice barely audible through the ringing in Kyle’s ears. “It worked!”

Wincing at the grit still swirling past his face, Kyle opened his eyes. Through the floating dust he could see an angled pile of debris where that part of the tunnel had been ten seconds ago.

And at the very top of the pile was a jagged hole and the beautiful light of a late-afternoon overcast sky.

“Come on,” Callahan called, urging Kyle forward. Zac was already halfway up the rubble, his feet kicking up dust and little pebble avalanches as he climbed. Blinking a few more times, Kyle followed, with Callahan still gripping his arm beside him.

Hours of toiling their way through twisted passageways and switchbacks had completely ruined Kyle’s usual sense of direction. But his assumption as they traveled had always been that the tunnel itself was running more or less straight from where they’d entered it, except for the small curves and jogs that had been forced on the diggers. That direction, combined with the distance they had traveled, should by his estimate have put them inside the nighttime perimeter somewhere near the mess tent.

But, as he clawed his way out into the open air, he found he’d been only half right. They were indeed inside the inner perimeter, but somewhere along the way the tunnel had taken more of a turn than he’d realized. Instead of being by the mess tent, the tunnel had taken them to within fifty meters of the medical recovery tent.

The tent where John Connor was currently lying weak and nearly helpless in a hospital bed.

“It’s all right!” Callahan shouted, waving his hands toward the guards by the tent.

But the guards weren’t listening. To Kyle’s surprise and dismay, they were hastily unslinging their rifles and bringing them to bear.