I don't imagine he's getting much satisfaction in knowing he was right, Jack thought. Especially knowing what a tough nut this thing's going to be to crack.
But Skynet was a canny machine. It had launched major attacks in Europe and Africa, then, when those didn't prosper, though Africa had been a near thing, it had launched a campaign in Australia. It had continued the strategy to this day, keeping the resistance off balance and shifting its small strategic reserve of troops and high-quality weapons hopping across the world. Rising in one area while it rebuilt in another. Now, apparently, it was North America's turn.
"He's here." That was Reese's commander, Colonel Symonds.
The three men looked at one another. Having John Connor in your mission was as good as saying, "We're going to win this one." It wasn't an ironclad guarantee, but it was as close as you were likely to get to one in this uncertain world. It gave the men a good feeling.
"How many people has he brought?" Reese asked.
"Lots," the colonel said. "And a shitload of weaponry the like of which these little outposts haven't seen since before Judgment Day. Plus stuff that didn't exist before Judgment Day—those captured factories are really starting to produce."
Brock's grin was unstoppable. "It's like Christmas morning and Santa has brought everything on my wish list."
"And a couple of things I didn't even think of," Symonds agreed.
He and Brock glanced at Dennis, who wasn't smiling, but still radiated satisfaction like heat. He'd long claimed that the factory was the reason his wife and child had disappeared. Destroying it was going to make him a very happy man.
They continued on to the area that had been turned over to Connor and his people. Jack found himself with butterflies in his stomach. Amazing, considering he'd hosted John Connor when he was a kid. At the time he'd considered the visit a kind of babysitting job and had shamelessly used John's services to look after his own daughter. Now here he was, sweaty-palmed at the thought of shaking the man's hand. Funny how things turn out, he thought.
An aide met them at the entrance and led them to a curtained-off area where John was just putting a piece of paper onto a table dragged in for this conference. He looked up and smiled; the scarred face had lost all trace of youth, and settled into a weathered grimness that would probably remain much the same until he reached his sixties.
"Jack," he said. "Good to see you. How's Susie?"
"Outshinin' her old man more every day," Brock said. He extended his hand across the table and John took it in a firm grip.
"Colonel Symonds," John said, offering his hand. After they'd shaken, Connor turned to look at Dennis Reese. He stared, unmoving, looking him over from head to foot as though he was some alien presence.
Jack thought he didn't know who the captain was. "This is Captain Dennis Reese," he said. "He heads up the outfit here in the Ozarks."
"Of course," John said, sitting down. "My apologies, Captain. I went totally blank there for a moment. Please, have a seat, gentlemen."
Other commanders filed in and the seats were rapidly filled.
To Jack's surprise, John allowed two of the other men at the table to describe the factory and to show satellite photos of its rapid growth over the last six months. Then General Vedquam outlined the plan of battle while his aide distributed the order of battle to the others.
Connor listened respectfully and asked a few questions. All very nicely done, Brock thought. John allowed Vedquam, as the leader in this area, to do the talking and to assume battlefield command. But at the end of the day everyone at the table knew who was really in charge. You could tell it by the questions he chose to ask, never mind the deferential manner in which he asked them. The man radiated authority.
"What about the human presence?" John asked.
"Some are Luddites," Vedquam said. "Though the Luddite presence has decreased markedly in this area over the last year.
There are still a small number who seem to visit the facility, apparently to get supplies." He put down his pointer and sat at his place. "There are the usual signs of human habitation—small vegetable gardens, unprocessed human waste, and the occasional body. Going by the size of the food plots, we're assuming no more than a hundred or so prisoners."
"We'll need to be careful," John said.
"Yes, sir. We've made certain that the troops will be advised."
John slapped his hands down on the arms of his ancient office chair gently. "Excellent," he said. "If there's nothing else we can do here, I'm sure everyone has a mountain of work waiting for them."
Everyone rose, most talking with one of their counterparts, and began to move from the makeshift conference area. Reese and Brock followed behind Colonel Symonds. Jack turned before they went through the curtain and saw John giving Dennis Reese a most peculiar look. Then Connor noticed Brock watching him and smiled. Jack smiled back, gave a thumbs-up, and turned away. But the moment left him with the strangest feeling that something beyond his ken was going on.
* * *
Kyle had company with him the next time Mary saw him.
Whether it was a girl or a boy was impossible to tell, not that it mattered. The two of them were crouched down behind a dormant stamping machine, quiet and still as the machine itself; the dim-ness of the echoing metal halls stretched back into what seemed like infinity, as if the whole world were a place of metal and scurrying machines and fear, scented with the ozone reek of terror.
Mary crouched down near them. She wondered how far Skynet monitored its prisoners. Did it know what the Luddite had told her?
"The resistance is still fighting," she said quietly. Kyle's eyes brightened and he leaned forward excitedly. "But Skynet is gearing up for a big push. It's built this place up." She frowned.
"You remember when we came in here, the whole valley was filled with the factory?"
Kyle nodded.
"Well, the place is much bigger now. It goes on for miles instead of acres, Sam says. There are people locked up there that we've never seen."
"Yes'm," Kyle said. "I knew that. There aren't a lot of people, though. Most of the ones left are hereabouts."
Mary looked at them. "Sounds like you've been all over the place."
The two children nodded.
"So what is it that you kids do, exactly?"
"We have chores," Kyle said. "Cleaning mostly. But where we do 'em and how long we take's usually up to us."
His mother shook her head in puzzlement. "Why would it let you do that?"
"I think it finds us interestin'," Kyle's friend said in a curiously rough little voice. "The Terminators are al'ays lookin' at us, like they's measurin' us. Y'know? When I's little I thought they's gonna eat me when I got big enough."
When you were little? Mary thought in wonder. The child would barely top her waist. "Are either of your parents here?"
she asked gently.
"No'm. My ma was here once. But I ent seen 'er for I don'
know how long. An' I looked. I looked all ober this place. 'Course I cain't 'member what she looks like. 'Cept she had brown hair."
"You'd know her if you saw her," Mary assured him/her.
"Oh," Kyle said. "Mom, this is Jesse. Jesse, my mom."
"Jesse," Mary said with a smile and a nod, getting a more solemn nod in return. Not an awfully helpful name, she thought.
It could still be a boy or girl. I can't just ask, she would be insulted. And I couldn't blame him/her.
"Anyway," she said aloud, "Sam says that Skynet is getting ready for a big push and that it's really active around the factory.