Sarah snuck another sideways glance at Cameron, splitting her attention between the road and the seemingly sulky terminator beside her. Her initial impression had indeed been correct: the cyborg was pouting, her perfect bow lips pushed out in a perfect replica of petulant annoyance. These new mannerisms disturbed Sarah more than she wanted to admit, and she’d been doing her damndest to ignore them ever since Cameron had returned to her body. Modifications, Cameron had called them, and Sarah was reminded yet again that she needed to find out just what Cameron had altered about her programming and why.

Was it all a facade, an impression of human emotions, like a parrot repeating words with no comprehension of their meaning, or was Cameron really experiencing the emotions that gave rise to her expressions? Was she, in fact, annoyed, and if so, what other emotions might she feel? Cameron had changed, that much was clear, but Sarah had no idea what that change entailed. She was both terrified and – she hated to admit – intrigued.

 Their relationship had changed as well, growing murkier and more confusing by the minute. Whatever boundaries had been established between them were gone, swept away by an impulse that Sarah still struggled to explain. Further, it cast a shadow over everything that had happened since the last sparks had faded from the basement at Zeira Corp. All of Sarah’s motivations were now suspect. Why had she rescued Cameron from the rubble? Why had she been so insistent on getting Cameron back in her body? Had she had ulterior motives that she herself hadn’t realized? It made her head hurt and kept her perpetually off-balance, with all the questions and constant second-guessing of her motives and actions. For a brief moment, she regretted not pulling the trigger in that basement, blasting the Turk and everything contained on those silicon chips to hell. Life would be much simpler if she had.

 Cameron turned her head, catching Sarah’s scrutiny, and for a second, Sarah could have sworn that Cameron knew exactly what she had been thinking. The terminator gave no sign, instead opting to repeat her question, “Why won’t you tell me where we are going?” The end of the question pitched up into the beginning of a whine, and Sarah resisted the urge to bang her head against the steering wheel.

 The day had started normally, or at least as normally as it could considering the motley crew assembled in the warehouse. Sarah’s initial foray downstairs for coffee had been temporarily halted when she’d walked in on Savannah serving Cameron tea from a tiny porcelain tea set, the miniature pitcher and its matching cups and saucers elaborately decorated with pink roses. Savannah and the assortment of stuffed animals around the table were dressed in a child’s vision of finery, with dresses, hats, and white gloves, and the bright pink feather boa Savannah had obviously insisted the terminator wear clashed dramatically with Cameron’s drab green fatigues and faded black tee-shirt. Finger sandwiches were cut to match the small dimensions of the plates, and the military precision with which the corners were sliced indicated Cameron’s involvement in the preparations.

 Sarah cocked an eyebrow at Cameron, meeting the terminator’s eyes over Savannah’s head as the little girl chattered small talk at the stuffed rhino sitting to Cameron’s left, but the terminator gave no indication she shared Sarah’s amusement at the absurdity of the situation. Instead, she picked up her cup with exaggerated care and took a tiny sip, listening seriously to Savannah telling her stories about the stuffed animals.

 Leaning against the counter as she took a cautious sip of steaming coffee, Sarah wondered idly if she could find a camera somewhere. John would love…  Pain, as sudden and intense as a gunshot, caught Sarah in the gut… John. It didn’t get easier, the feeling of loss, and she wondered if it ever would. She just wished she knew that he was warm, well-fed, and safe, since he couldn’t be there to share in her amusement.

 An alarm blared just above her head and Sarah nearly came out of her skin. “Fuck,” she growled as coffee scalded her hands and she grabbed a dishtowel hurriedly. She was aware of two sets of eyes on her as she blotted her burned skin and reached for her gun, one wide with shock and the other mildly reproaching.

 Behind her, Sarah could hear Cameron ordering Savannah to her room and then a heavy tread as the terminator followed. They reached the door simultaneously and slammed into the wall at either side. Sarah wrenched it open and Cameron swung into the breach, shotgun at ready, their coordination needing no words or planning.

 Cameron scanned the entrance and dock for several tense seconds while Sarah braced against the wall and covered the back exits, waiting for an attack. Nothing moved, except for the pink ends of the ridiculous boa, blowing in the salty breeze off the water.

 A moment later, the alarm cut off mid-squeal and Sarah relaxed fractionally, only to snap into readiness again as Murch burst out of his room and onto the catwalk. The laptop in his hands nearly dropped to the metal plates as both guns zeroed in on him, and he tried to put up his hands up in surrender and retreat back into his room at the same time. “Cyberattack,” he blurted, speaking so fast the words blurred together.

 “Cywhat?” Sarah lowered her weapon, staring at the computer scientist in confusion.

 “Cyber attack.” Cameron spoke from her side. “We were attacked through cyberspace.”

 “And that rang the alarm?” Sarah asked in surprise.

 “Yes.”

 Sarah took a deep calming breath, trying to slow the beating of her heart. To think, just a few moments ago, she had been enjoying a quiet moment. “Go check outside,” she said, growling the order to Cameron. It bothered her to think that there could be attacks she couldn’t see or defend against, and the feeling made her snippy. When Cameron hesitated, she snapped, “That cyberwhatsit could be a first strike for a real attack. Go check.” Cameron nodded, and turned to walk to the door. “And take that damn thing off before you go,” Sarah said as she gripped one end of the boa and flipped it up in Cameron’s face.

 Cameron regarded the fluorescent pink boa for a moment before pulling it off slowly, turning, and looping it over Sarah’s neck, her fingers brushing over the pulse points at Sarah’s throat in a near caress. Her face was an emotionless mask as Cameron paused for a moment to admire her handiwork, but Sarah caught a hint of humor in those brown eyes before she turned and marched out, the door slamming shut behind her. Sarah took another calming breath and glanced up to Murch eyeing Sarah and the actions of the cyborg with an expression caught between horror and amusement. Sarah sighed and shook her head, ripping the offending garment off and tossing it among the debris of the disrupted tea party.

 Murch hurried down the stairs and settled into the workstation. He pulled up window upon window of streaming characters, the lenses of his glasses reflecting the jumbled mess of letters and numbers. The flow of characters slowed, and then stopped, and Murch frowned thoughtfully.

 “What?” Sarah asked.

 “This can’t be right,” he muttered, more to himself than to Sarah as he reversed the flow of characters and looked them over again.

 Silence stretched as he looked through several screens, and Sarah’s patience evaporated—she was tempted to shake him… or pull her gun. “What? What can’t be right?” She looked at the gibberish on the screen again, as if glaring would somehow make it achieve some kind of coherency.

 Finally, just when she thought she might have to throttle him, Murch said, “It’s Cameron.” He half-turned in his chair, the words suddenly spilling out of him. “She’s, I mean, it’s not her, all of her, but she’s in there.” His hand gestured at the computer. “It’s like she…”

 Sarah felt her blood freeze in her veins, and she kept her eyes squarely on the computer scientist. “Cameron is outside.” Her voice was low and had a hint of a threat.

 “Yeah, but she’s also in there. Part of her, anyway.” The look on Sarah’s face seemed to penetrate, and he shrank back in his chair. “It’s like she made a copy of herself and left it in there when she downloaded. It’s what raised the alarm and fought off the cyber attack.”

 “She copied herself?” Sarah’s voice dropped an octave and her gaze darted to the door as her jaw clenched, pulsing beneath the skin.

 “She was virtual; copies are easy to make. But not all of her, just a part, like…” He struggled to find the words that would explain. “A helper program, a watch dog. It’s not really sentient, not like she is, but….”

 Sarah could almost feel the muscles of her back strain as her chest tightened and threatened her ability to breathe. After all the discussion of Cameron becoming Skynet, after all the difficulty to get her into her body, she had left a copy of herself online. And not only that, but she had kept it a secret. Again.

 Only the sickly green look on Murch’s face kept Sarah from immediately storming out and confronting the terminator then and there.

 “What else?” she demanded, and Murch flinched a little at her tone.

 “It’s not just her. Or rather, she’s not just her. During the attack, I got snippets of code from the attacker. C.A.I.N., I think. Some of it, it’s in her. Or she’s in it.” His cadence sped up again. “It’s like that old Reese’s commercial, ‘you got your peanut butter on my chocolate, you got your chocolate in my peanut butter.’” He glanced up at Sarah with a grin that quickly faded when she did not appear to share his amusement at the cultural reference. “She’s infected.”

 “Infected? Like a computer virus?” Murch nodded, glad she understood, because he wasn’t sure he could dumb down the explanation much more. “In there?” Sarah jerked her head at the computer. “Or out here?”

 Murch shook his head. “In there, definitely.” He waved at the monitors. “Out here?” He sighed and looked at Sarah worriedly. “I don’t know.”

 “What’s going on?” Ellison stepped up behind them, looking ruffled and groggy, his voice still rough from sleep. The alarm had obviously caught him by surprise. Murch nearly sighed in relief as Sarah’s attention shifted to the former FBI agent.

 “Cameron… might be infected. Like a computer virus.” Stress tightened the muscles across her forehead painfully. “By C.A.I.N.”

 Ellison realized the import immediately; he crossed his arms across his chest and, glancing meaningfully at the quarters above their heads, asked, “What could the infection do? Is she dangerous?”

 “I don’t know,” Murch replied in a subdued voice.

 “Find out,” Sarah snapped, trying not to worry about Cameron and forcing herself to worry about the rest of them instead.  She hadn’t damn near died to bring Cameron back just to have her go bad from a computer virus. Her eyes drifted, almost of their own volition, to the discarded feather boa amid the remnants of Savannah’s tea party.

 “I could analyze the code, maybe trace the infection…” Murch shook his head mournfully. “I’m not sure…”

 “Just do it. Let us know what you find.” Sarah started to draw Ellison away, but the computer scientist’s voice stopped them both in their tracks.

 “There’s more.” His voice sank to a whisper as he imparted the last of the bad news. “I managed to perform a back trace on the attack to a server farm outside of LA. But they might have done the same thing to us. I think that was the reason for the attack.” He looked up first at Sarah and then Ellison. “They might know our location.”

 It only took a minute for Sarah to formulate a plan, years of habit dictating the course of action. Protect Savannah, now in place of John. Keep the terminator away from those she holds dear. Put herself in the line of fire instead of anyone else. “Get me the address of that server farm.” She turned to Ellison. “Get out. Take only what is essential and find someplace safe. I’ll take Cameron. We’ll deal with the server farm, see if we can distract them.” She glanced down at Murch. “I’ll call from the road, to find out the results of the analysis.” Ellison nodded once, acknowledging the plan, before bounding up the stairs and calling for Savannah.

 Sarah closed her eyes for a second, trying to block out the other plans already formulating if the results brought more bad news. “Take only the essential computer equipment you need. We can buy more.” Sarah half-turned before she thought of something and swung back to face the computer scientist. Her eyes fastened on the rubber duck sitting amid the fantasy action figures. “And Murch, leave those damn toys!”

***

 ACT I

 Silence stretched in the truck cab as Sarah concentrated on searching for the side road they needed to turn onto. She knew that Cameron, with her robotic eyes, could see the road sign much easier, but Sarah refused to be the one to break the quiet.

 “There.” Cameron’s voice seemed to echo in the small confines of the truck, and Sarah strained to make out a road sign through the streaked windshield and blowing dust. “Sonofa…” Cursing Cameron’s enhanced eyesight and the inefficient effectiveness of her own, Sarah swung the truck into a hard right at the last second, the vehicle threatening to tip as it roared into the turn.

 “How did you know that?”

 “Tire tracks,” Cameron reported matter-of-factly.  The hard-packed dirt stretched out in front of them, a narrow line between twisted wire fences, heavily traveled if the deep ruts were any indication. “I could help more if you would tell me where we are going.” There was that whine again, grating on Sarah’s nerves.

 “It’s need to know,” Sarah snapped, feeling, in spite of everything, marginally guilty for not trusting Cameron.

 “You want me to tell you everything.”

 Sarah could feel her jaw tensing as she resisted the urge to bring up Cameron’s virtual copy left on the Turk and the many other times Cameron had withheld information, or to point out that what she wanted and what Cameron actually did were two entirely different things. “That’s different.”

 “Why?”

 “It just is.”

 A flash of emotion, a tiny glimmer in brown eyes and a tightening of lips, that was gone as quickly as it appeared, told Sarah more than she wanted to know about Cameron’s emotional development. Inside, outside, chicken or egg, physical expressions of emotion or true emotional response… It seemed immaterial, her earlier thoughts, as Sarah realized she had just hurt Cameron and Cameron was trying to hide it.

 “You don’t trust me.”

 Sarah didn’t even try to explain the reasons for her doubts. What could she say? Cameron, this Cameron, wasn’t the one she had lived with for almost two years… wasn’t even the one she had been getting to know in the system. Something had happened, and Sarah was afraid the hints of emotion and the increasing independence were just the beginning, and she had no idea where they would end. Cameron had said she had made modifications, but so far they had danced around the touchy subject. As much as Sarah wanted answers, she feared the ones she would get, keeping both her and Cameron in an odd, charged limbo.

 It had been a weird few days: Sarah had spent her time trying to put some distance between the two of them, and Cameron had spent her time trying to find any excuse to be near Sarah. The brush of their shoulders as they passed on the catwalk, the seemingly innocent touch of their fingers as Cameron handed her the first cup of coffee in the morning… and the moment this morning, when Sarah had had a split-second of trepidation when Cameron had pulled ever so slightly on the boa, threatening to pull Sarah to her… against her. That trepidation had mixed with a pang of disappointment when it didn’t happen.

 Sarah cast another sideways glance at Cameron, her face in silhouette, accentuating the full, pouting lips. She could remember all too well what that mouth had felt like, what it had tasted like… and how she had lost herself for a few seconds as she kissed a machine. Shaking her head vigorously, Sarah banished the images that came unbidden in her mind and threatened her equilibrium.

 Aside from whatever was happening with Cameron and her modifications, there was still the threat of C.A.I.N., possibly a ticking time bomb in Cameron’s head. Was she infected? Would the modifications make it harder or easier for her to resist if she was? Would Cameron even know that she’d been compromised and what would she do if she found out she had been? For the first time in her life, Sarah wished she knew more about computers and programming to understand what the possibilities and dangers were. She thought of John, wished desperately that he were here to inform her of all their options, and felt another stab of guilt when she imagined his reaction to the way she’d been treating Cameron over her own fears.

 “It’s a server farm, Murch said,” Sarah finally revealed, relenting a little bit and feeling her conscience ease with the admission. “He traced the cyber attack back to it. It’s possible C.A.I.N. is based there.”

 Cameron nodded, staring distractedly out the windshield. “Not all of him. He’s spread out, in the system. But the loss of a processing center might hurt him.”

 “Might?” Sarah winced as the truck dipped into a deep rut, putting the vehicle’s shocks to the test and rattling her teeth.

 “I don’t know for sure.” There was a significant pause, and then, “If you had told me your plans, I could have found out.” Cameron turned her head and leveled a look of stern disapproval in Sarah’s direction.

 The whine of a motor reached them, and a four-wheeler crested a hill to their left, both the rider and the bike caked with dust. It paused on the hill and Sarah could see the person tracking them, the helmet following their path down the deserted lane. But after a second’s scrutiny, the rider gunned the bike and peeled off, heading down a track leading to the road.

 “This is a bad idea,” Cameron told her as the high-pitched sounds of the bike receded into the distance. “The target is of negligible strategic value and we don’t have any reconnaissance.” Her gaze caught Sarah. “You take unnecessary risks.”

 “I told you before, I’m not for you to understand.” Sarah’s jaw clenched and she focused on the road.

 “I know. You do ‘stupid, illogical, inefficient things.’” 

 For a second, Sarah wondered if Cameron was about to bring up the kiss, the latest in a long string of stupid, illogical things, and she sucked in a breath to cut her off. 

 “I’m still not used to it, but I think I understand it,” Cameron finished.

 Sarah let loose the breath she was holding, wondering how Cameron had managed to come to such a comprehension. “So you understand why we’re going to do this.”

 “No.”

 The truck skidded to a stop just in sight of a large metal building, the terminus of a thick bundle of cables and electrical wires. “End of the line,” Sarah murmured as they stared at the building. “See anything?”

 Sarah watched as Cameron scanned the structure. “No. I can’t tell if anyone is inside.”

 “Why?” Sarah asked in alarm.

 “The temperature is extremely low. I am sensing no heat signatures.” Cameron turned and looked at Sarah. “You’ll want your jacket.”

 Sarah reached back behind her seat, her hand gripping the handle on a bag holding the explosives. She ignored Cameron’s advice about the jacket. “Let’s do this.”

 Cameron caught her arm as Sarah started to get out of the truck, her grip strong and unyielding. “It’s not a good idea,” she repeated.

 Sarah tried to shake free. “Cameron, let go.” For a long moment, Cameron simply stared at her, holding her there, keeping her there, her face a blank, emotionless mask, but her eyes held the same concern they had during their quixotic quest for the John Connor who wasn’t hers and Sarah could almost hear Cameron saying, ‘I can’t protect you from yourself.’ For a second, Sarah wanted to relent, to let Cameron be in charge for once, but Cameron might not be Cameron, and Sarah couldn’t trust her motives. “Damn it, Cameron, let me go.”

 Sarah nearly fell out of the truck when Cameron suddenly complied.

 ***

 

The elevator pinged. Danny Dyson stepped out, his eyes darting around the unfamiliar hallway. Deep, dark wood paneling lined the walls leading to a set of glass doors, where Vaughn was deep in conversation with the new head of security.

 Vaughn looked up as Danny approached, and his smile of welcome showed too many teeth, like a wolf readying for an attack. He waved a hand when Danny hesitated at the door, and Danny reluctantly joined them.

 The executive levels were off-limits to almost everyone Danny knew, and the rich surroundings were a sharp contrast to the utility of the floors he was used to. He glanced around the room, seeing himself reflected in the black expanse of a plasma screen a second before a cheery ‘Hi Danny’ flashed across it, the words almost blinding in the muted light.

 Vaughn’s smile lost a little of its forced friendliness at the enthusiasm C.A.I.N. exhibited, the edges of his mouth turning down to give his face a feral cast, and Danny once again wondered who he had fallen in with in his quest to revenge and redeem his father. He knew he didn’t belong there in the rich, wood-paneled office, but then, he wasn’t sure he belonged anywhere anymore.

 “What’s up?” he asked, trying to keep a note of casualness in his voice.

 “We found her.” Danny heard the first note of real happiness in Vaughn’s voice as the head of security handed him a semi-automatic. “Want to go with us to capture the psychopath who killed your father?”

 For a second, the cold intensity in Vaughn’s eyes gave Danny pause, and the word ‘capture’ seemed so benign in comparison to the anger he saw there. He didn’t know when the hunt for Sarah Connor had gotten personal for Vaughn, but something in those eyes promised a very real, very violent, payback, and Danny wasn’t sure he could be a party to that. Then he remembered his father, lying in their living room, bleeding, pleading as the gun in Sarah Connor’s hands pointed at his head. It wasn’t just any person they were after, and Danny had some payback due him as well.

 He didn’t notice how his eyes mirrored Vaughn’s as he nodded his head.

 ***

 

The motel wasn’t much, but it would do for a day or so. Ellison studied the area as he retrieved his bag from the bed of the truck he’d ‘borrowed.’ Unlike Sarah, he had every intention of returning this one to the parking garage where he’d found it. As soon as they had relocated, of course.

 There was a pool and a small playground, the colors of the swings and slide faded to a drab shade of their original bright hues. Savannah wouldn’t mind. Toys were toys, and James wondered if she would enjoy the opportunity to be outside for a change. She so rarely got to leave the confines of the warehouse, and James made a mental note to find them a place that was much more conducive to raising a child.

 The late-morning sun beat down on him as he walked past the pool, breathing in the scent of heavy chlorine. Murch passed him on the sidewalk, heading back to the truck for another haul. They’d parked at the back of the building, paying a little extra to check in early. Not a soul was present, not even the cleaning crew, although James could hear their vacuums from the other side of the motel.

 He found Savannah sitting on the edge of the bed, her small frame slouched and listless as she watched a fuzzy image of Sesame Street on the small television. James hesitated in the doorway, swallowing hard, his heart aching for the child. He knew he’d done the right thing in bringing her with them, but it didn’t lessen the guilt of dragging her into this way of life. At that moment, James knew he was getting a taste of what Sarah must have felt about her son every day for the last sixteen years. The feeling was smothering in its raw intensity.

 “Hey,” James said gently, waiting for Savannah to look over at him with sad blue eyes. “Want to go play on the swing set? Or I can read some more of The Wizard of Oz to you…” He trailed off as Savannah shook her head and returned her gaze to the TV.

Sighing, James dumped his bag on the floor and came closer, settling next to the girl. He watched her watch Elmo, a character that normally brought a smile to Savannah’s face, but there was no smile today. “What’s wrong?” James asked.

 “I want Aunt Sarah and Aunt Cameron,” Savannah confessed with a pout that would have been adorable if it hadn’t been so sincere.

 “They’ll be back soon,” James promised, hoping he wasn’t lying to the child. “We’re going to meet them in our new home.”

 Savannah turned her head to look at him fully, knowingly. “Are we going to another warehouse?”

 James hesitated, thrown by the question. “I would imagine so. Your Aunt Sarah gave me a list of a few places to check out.”

 “I’m not going to another warehouse.”

 James’ lips twitched. He’d seen Savannah imitating both Sarah and Cameron lately, especially the way Cameron would strut around like a prize pony. Apparently Savannah has also picked up on both women’s penchant for being stubborn. “Is that right?” he drawled.

 “I want a house,” Savannah declared. “One with a big back yard where I can play.”

 “Do you now?” James continued, crossing his arms and listening with a faint smile as Savannah laid out her demands.

 “And I want a dog… or a cat…”

 “Your Aunt Cameron might not be too keen on that idea. Do you understand why?” he asked, curious as to how much Savannah comprehended about the world she was currently living in.

 “Because she’s a Tin Miss,” Savannah replied easily. “Like my other mommy.”

 James went still, a chill chasing down his spine. He had never realized that Savannah had known the truth about Weaver and he didn’t know what to say to her now that he did. “Savannah…”

 “A child is supposed to have a home,” Savannah told him, returning to the original topic without missing a beat. “A warehouse is not a home.”

 James swallowed, floored by a five year old’s wisdom. “No,” he agreed gently. “It’s not.”

 Savannah turned back to the television. “No more warehouses,” she insisted.

 Slowly, James lifted his hand and let it stroke down the child’s back, hoping the touch was soothing to them both. “No more warehouses,” he agreed. Sarah was going to kill him for changing her plans, but so be it. Savannah needed a taste of normalcy. Maybe they all did. He decided he would do his best to make sure she got it.

 Murch stepped into the room and dropped a bag of cables on the floor. He was sweating slightly as James got to his feet and came toward him. He glanced at Savannah and then back at the former FBI agent. “She okay?”

 James glanced back at Savannah and nodded. “She will be. What’s up?” He looked at Murch, noting the way the man’s eyes wouldn’t meet his own.

 “I forgot a few things,” Murch explained. “I need to go back.”

 “No.” James was emphatic. “Too dangerous.”

 “We don’t know that C.A.I.N. managed to locate us,” Murch argued. “And there are some things I need.”

 “Murch…”

 “I need half an hour tops.” Murch turned and picked up the laptop, flipping it open and setting it down on the small desk inside the motel room. “Look.” He clicked an icon and James leaned forward to see the images from the various cameras located inside the warehouse. “You can watch me from here. I won’t be long.”

 James glanced back at Savannah and discovered her watching them both knowingly. He sighed again. “Make it fast.”

 Murch nodded as he pushed his glasses up on the bridge of his nose. “I will.” He smiled at Savannah. “Want me to bring you a shake when I come back?” he offered, hoping to make the little girl smile.

 Savannah shrugged, but her interest was clear in her bright blue eyes.

 James snorted. “Get me one while you’re at it. Vanilla.”

 Murch rolled his eyes as he took the car keys from Ellison’s hand and then waved goodbye to Savannah, shutting the door behind him.

 “He’s weird,” Savannah announced, but it sounded like a compliment.

 James picked up the paper he’d purchased when he’d checked them in. He settled into a chintzy chair and flipped it open, turning his attention to the classifieds rather than the sports scores.

 He had a new home to find.

 ***

 

The elevator took them to another floor Danny had never seen, and he marveled at the vast cavern filled with black SUVs and military-style trucks. A contingent of security guards milled around a small armory in the corner, gearing up. They handled their guns with a causal negligence, their voices echoing in the bay.

 The chatter quieted immediately when Vaughn stepped out into the room, and Danny saw several straighten up, their shoulders pulled back in a rough approximation of attention. Even though his crisp Italian suit contrasted vividly with the pseudo-military garb of the guards and the drab concrete walls, Vaughn seemed much more at home among these dangerous men than he did in his opulent corporate office.

 He didn’t even have to say a word in command; he simply nodded at the gathered men as he directed Danny to a dark Suburban with tinted windows. They obeyed the command instantly and headed for the trucks standing at ready.

 Minutes later, a small fleet emerged from a parking garage on the outskirts of Los Angeles and sped off.

 ***

 

It was taking too long to set the explosives, Sarah thought, but the building was much larger than she had expected, forcing them to be more strategic in placing the charges. Maybe if she had stopped to ask Murch about it or told Cameron where they were going, she might have been better prepared. She blew out a sigh as she carefully attached the last device, glancing up just in time to see Cameron walking away from her, heading, not toward the door, but deeper into the maze of computer racks.

 “Where are you going?” Sarah hissed, trying to keep her voice at a whisper. They hadn’t seen anyone, but the super-cooled air of the building limited the effectiveness of Cameron’s scanning ability.

 “I’ll be right back,” Cameron replied, disappearing around a corner.

 “Dammit,” Sarah muttered under her breath, rubbing her hands together to warm them before reaching for the Glock in the waistband of her jeans. Straightening, she hurried to where she had last seen Cameron, but the machine had vanished. Running now, Sarah turned into the central aisle that ran the length of the warehouse. Several rows down, she caught a flash of color out of the corner of her eye, and she skidded to a stop.

 Her breath caught at the silent figure sitting motionless at the end of the row, and for a second, she saw Cameron’s body sitting there, tethered to the computers by a thick cable, before the image resolved itself into a bigger, bulkier, and distinctly less humanoid shape.

 A sharp footfall behind her warned her of a potential threat, but her preoccupation with the machine cost her a few seconds; she had no time to turn and bring her gun up before she was grabbed from behind and pulled backward.

 ***

 

Murch loaded the last of the components into the truck before taking a final swing through the warehouse. He paused at the workstation he considered his and picked up an Orc that had fallen over when he had disconnected the Turk that morning. He set the green-skinned action figure back in its place among the other models, his fingers hovering reluctantly.

 He sighed wistfully as he took in his collection—his replacement collection, he thought, for the one he had left behind when Sarah had practically hijacked him into this life. Glancing around the quiet, almost peaceful space, Murch frowned. He had already given up so much. It didn’t seem fair that he had to give up everything just because Sarah was paranoid to near lunacy. It’s not like it wouldn’t take more than a few minutes, anyway. Making up his mind, he started looking around for one more box.

 ***

 

“Shhhh.” Sarah wasn’t sure what she recognized first, the voice or the feel of Cameron’s body pressed against hers, but she stopped resisting as she was pulled into another of the seemingly endless rows of computers. For a second, the only things Sarah was aware of were her breath, coming fast and shallow, and the warmth of the terminator at her back. Then, the immovable arm around her waist released, and Sarah whirled to face Cameron.

 “What’s going on here? Is that a…” In the eerie hush of the warehouse, Sarah’s voice sounded loud, almost deafening. In her mind’s eye, she visualized the black screen on the oversized head she had seen spark to life and glow an eerie red. The machine under the plastic didn’t look like the woman in front of her; it was big, bulky, and encased in a white and blue plastic exoskeleton, but the humanoid shape and the way it sat there, connected to the computers, was enough to sketch a faint ancestral relationship between it and Cameron.

 “A prototype.” Cameron’s voice was pitched so low, Sarah had to strain to hear her. “Don’t worry, it’s not active.”

 “Active?” Sarah shook her head in confusion. “Can it hear us?” she asked, stepping closer so she could talk even quieter.

 “No.” Cameron’s attention seemed only partially on Sarah, and Sarah tried to catch a hint of whatever it was that had alarmed the terminator over the white-noise hum of the air conditioning units, but she couldn’t hear or see anything.

 “So why are we whispering?” she finally asked.

 Raising a finger, Cameron shushed her, the two of them standing stock still until Sarah finally heard it, faintly at first, but then growing: the sound of tires on gravel.

 ***

 

The blacked-out window of the Suburban rolled down and Danny watched the security team deploy around a low, long building. They very quickly and efficiently took up stations at every possible exit, guns at ready.

 “Come on,” Vaughn commanded as he stepped out of the SUV and walked to the head of the group at the main door.

***

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