T2 - 02 - The New John Connor Chronicles - An Evil Hour Read online

  TERMINATOR 2@

  THE NEW JOHN CONNOR

  CHRONICLES

  Book 2:

  AN EVIL HOUR

  RUSSELL BLACKFORD

  BASED ON THE WORLD CREATED

  IN THE MOTION PICTURE WRITTEN BY

  JAMES CAMERON AND WILLIAM WISHER

  PROLOGUE: JOHN'S WORLD

  CYBERDYNE RESEARCH SITE, COLORADO SPRINGS AUGUST 2001

  They'd defeated the T-XA Terminator, but at a terrible cost.

  John went to his mother, Sarah, to check how badly she'd been hurt in their battle. "You okay, Mom?"

  Sarah nodded, fighting back tears of relief.

  How much had they really achieved, John wondered. Cyberdyne's research would continue; Skynet might still be created. So much work lay ahead. They had to get people to listen.

  The T-XA had pursued them from Mexico to Colorado, the journey ending at Cyberdyne's heavily guarded research facility. Their running gun battle with the Terminator had taken them through the facility to the twelfth floor, where the company's AI Operations Center was located. And there they'd struck Skynet a blow, in a blast that had almost brought the facility down on them. They'd escaped, though, and wound up in the building's basement, where Cyberdyne's prototype time vault apparatus was installed.

  And here the T-XA had finally been destroyed, scattered across space and time by the powerful energies of the device.

  The basement was a concrete chamber twenty feet high, and as long and wide as a football field. Eight rapid-response security personnel now lay on its hard floor, some of them wounded in their legs, others merely stunned-but all disarmed. Security cameras looked down from several angles, monitoring every event The huge chamber was dominated by the time vault, a hollow cubical block that reached to the ceiling-a block now empty, thankfully.

  John had survived unhurt, and Sarah appeared okay as well, not like last time when they'd encountered the T-1000 Terminator in 1994—and she'd been wounded in the shoulder and thigh. She still had a slight limp, almost too small to notice. That night, when they'd fought the shapeshifting T-1000 through the streets and factories of L.A. had been a turning point in John's life and the his-tory of the world. Tonight was different: their newest en-emy, the T-XA, had come from a different future, perhaps even darker than the T-l000's. And the T-XA had been focused on more formidable opponents than John and Sarah, for its mission had been to kill five Specialists: enhanced human warriors from its own world and time. Now three of them were dead.

  Miho Tagatoshi—the young Specialist known as *Jade"-crossed the room to Rosanna Monk, the time vault's inventor, passing by John and Sarah without a word. Rosanna was Cyberdyne's most senior research scientist She had followed in Miles Dyson's footsteps, working on the advanced computer hardware that would be used to create Skynet

  Jade touched Rosanna on the shoulder. "You did well."

  "I don't care what you think," Rosanna said, jerking away from her touch. "I did it for myself, not for you."

  Jade was superhumanly strong and fast, hard to kill, far superior to any merely human athlete. She was the most advanced and formidable of all the Specialists. She had taken several bullet wounds, but had healed quickly. Now she turned to John and Sarah. "Thank you both for everything."

  "Hey, no problemo" John said, trying to sound cool about it.

  He feared he was falling in love with her, this unattainable superwoman. Jade had been engineered to grow up quickly, then cease aging altogether, making her appear older than she was, while being potentially immortal. Though she looked about twenty, she had lived only the same number of years as John; in those terms, she was just fifteen or sixteen. Apart from her extraordinary abilities, she was beautiful, in a strange, sad way. Framed by black, shoulder-length hair, her oval face was almost perfect. . .yet her eyes looked haunted, as though she'd already lived for centuries and seen too much human suffering.

  Well, there'd be time to worry later. John would sort out his feelings for Jade, discover what she might feel for him; right now, there were higher priorities. One of them was Rosanna: what should they do with her? She'd been reprogrammed by the T-XA, but she'd helped them in the end. Without her, they could never have defeated it

  The Terminator had been armed with a powerful phased-plasma laser rifle, and had used it to devastating effect. When they'd first battled it in Mexico City, the T-XA had killed one of the Specialists: Robert Baxter. Two more had died tonight: Danny Dyson and Selena Macedo. Jade had survived, along with her Russian comrade, Anton Panov, a big granite block of a man with short gray hair.

  "I need a good meal," Anton said. He looked as if he'd been chopped to pieces, then stitched together, like Frankenstein's monster. As with all the Specialists, his veins and arteries swarmed with millions of tiny nanotech devices, designed to heal him rapidly when he was injured. But the Specialists still needed nutrients to complete the healing process and replenish their reserves.

  Anton was smart: often he had little to say, but he always made sense when he explained something. He was now the last person, at this time, in this world, with the memory of a different Judgment Day from the one that Jobs had grown up expecting. The one that was supposed to have happened in 1997, the one that would have created Skynet's World, had Sarah-with the aid of yet an-other Terminator-not destroyed Cyberdyne's advanced (computer research and the T-1000 sent to kill John.

  Anton and Jade bad come from a different world, with a different Judgment Day. They had traveled back from 2036. from a new reality that John now thought of as Jade's World. In Jade's World, Judgment Day had been postponed, thanks to what Sarah had done in 1994. In that reality, Cyberdyne's work had been set back for years. Judgment Day had taken place in place in 2021 when Jade was only a baby. She had lived through the nuclear holocaust, but could not recall its horrors, only those that came after.

  Judgment Day had happened in two different realities: in Skynet's World in 1997, in Jade's World in 2021. Was it possible for there to be a world without Judgment Day, without Skynet? That was what they were fighting for.

  Sarah passed Anton the T-XA's laser rifle, which had fallen on the floor in the thick of the battle. "Yes, thank you," he said, gripping the barrel in a large, powerful hand. The rifle was a black metal weapon almost three feet long, with no stock attached. It resembled an oversized, elongated handgun. Ordinary humans could not wield it one-handed, but the Terminators and Specialists had no such trouble. In the harsh world that he came from, Anton had doubtless used similar weapons against Skynet's forces.

  Jade stared at the time vault, where Danny Dyson-the Danny Dyson of 2036-had been scattered across space and time, along with the T-XA. "We loved you, Daniel," she said. "Thank you, friend."

  Precious seconds were ticking away. They had to get out of here fast before more police or security officers found them. The building had been rocked by an explosion. Right now, John thought, its security systems must be in chaos, perhaps no one was watching. But that couldn't last.

  Jade said to Rosanna, "Come with us. We'll try to help you."

  Rosanna looked back with disdain. "Why do I need help?" She was one human being whom Jade did not intimidate. "I've just saved your blasted species, not that it's what I wanted." In the end, Rosanna had acted to save humanity. She had entered the computer codes to slam shut the time vault's huge metal door, trapping the T-XA inside, then she'd activated the vault, scattering the Terminator's atoms across the space-time continuum.

  They found a fire door, which opened into a long tunnel. After fifty yards, this turned at ninety degrees, then led up a flight of steps.
At the top, another fire door

  opened to the outside world. Not far away, helicopters droned and hovered. Cops and military personnel were everywhere, but looking the wrong way, just at this moment, concentrating upon the ravaged building or worrying about their own safety.

  "Quietly," John whispered. "If we're quick, we just might make it."

  They needed to get back to where they'd left the Ford Explorer belonging to Sarah's old friend, Enrique Salceda, then return to Enrique's compound in the Californian Low Desert, without being followed or detected. As John considered the possibilities, Jade nodded in the direction of an empty police cruiser, parked slightly away from the others. It seemed that no one had spotted them.

  Jade touched Sarah, then smiled at John. "I'll be back," she said.

  She moved like a blur, accelerating into a superhuman sprint, and reached the cruiser. John had already seen how quickly she could start a stolen vehicle. Her hands were so strong that she could do it like a Terminator: by smashing open the ignition mechanism and turning the starter with her bare fingers. It took her only seconds. They'd soon be out of here.

  They just might pull this off.

  PART ONE

  JOHN'S WORLD

  CHAPTER

  One

  PATRIOT HOTEL, COLORADO SPRINGS AUGUST 2001

  Charles Layton was often feared, and very seldom loved. On first meeting, he seemed gentle, almost kindly. With his silver hair and watery blue eyes, he might have been a wise, patient judge, or a medical doctor with a calm bedside manner. But there was an inner hardness. Until he'd reached his thirties, he'd never appreciated how much he was different-that most people actually cared what others thought of them. Layton never did.

  Three decades later, he had thoroughly mastered the lesson. Not only was he different it gave him a kind of power. Then he'd met the T-XA Terminator, Skynet's emissary from 2036, and it had taken him even further, further than he could have imagined. The Terminator had modified his brain, reprogramming him to do Skynet's bidding. He would now work tirelessly, seeking mankind's destruction.

  Tonight's events had reached a crisis point Layton needed to be on the spot at Cyberdyne's research site. Whatever the outcome of the attack on Cyberdyne might be, there'd be problems ahead. As 11:00 P.M. approached, he patted the 9mm. Beretta pistol that he wore in a shoulder holster—concealed beneath the coat of his charcoal gray suit-then found the electronic keycard that opened his room on the nineteenth floor, slipping it into his shirt pocket. In another pocket he kept his cell phone. A second keycard—the one for the Cyberdyne site—was clipped to his company ID.

  He stepped into a deserted corridor, closed the door quietly behind him, and walked quickly to a row of elevators. The sound of a TV set came from one of the rooms-some action movie, with gunshots firing: blam! blam! Then silence.

  The T-XA had come from a future ruled by Skynet, but so had five humans. No, they were scarcely human at all: the Specialists were technologically enhanced warriors whose abilities greatly exceeded those of any normal human being. Their appearance created an unexpected complication for Cyberdyne Systems and the covert research program that would ultimately lead to Skynet. Cyberdyne's work had already been set back for years by the events of 1994-now it must go ahead, at all costs.

  Even if the T-XA could terminate all of the Specialists, it would need to show itself. That was inconvenient, and would surely lead to questions. If the time travelers knew a way to destroy the Terminator, that would be far worse. But Layton was ready for anything. As well as reprogramming him as Skynet's willing tool, the T-XA had given him new abilities. These made him more than a match-in his way-for the Connors and the Specialists. Even if the Terminator failed, he would not.

  The elevator arrived, and he stepped inside.

  THE PENTAGON

  Jack Reed's computer screen showed a background image of Laila Ali in fighting pose, wearing her boxing gloves. Jack had always been a fan of her father, the great Muhammad Ali. In the screen's lower right corner, a digital readout showed the time as just before 1:00 AM. He had been at work with Samantha Jones for the past twenty hours, agonizing as events unfolded in Colorado Springs, two time zones away; he needed updates almost minute by minute.

  Dean Solomon had last called from Colorado ten minutes before, an eternity to wait for new developments.

  As always. Jack wore carefully pressed black trousers and a plain white shirt. He'd thrown his suit coat and tie over the back of one of the two padded armchairs that faced away from the front of his desk. Opposite those was a two-person lounge, where Samantha now sat, sipping iced water from a tall, narrow glass. Even in middle age, Jack retained an air of vitality and a military bearing, though his career had been in the civilian Department of Defense, not the uniformed services. His face was sun-leathered and ruggedly handsome, with a full mane of graying hah brushed back from his face in waves. Right now, though, he felt as if he'd spent the last decade stuffed in the bottom of a smelly trash can, which had then been rolled down a gravel street. He stank of sweat, needed a shave, and knew he had bags under his eyes.

  He'd spent the day with Samantha vetting the preparations in Colorado to defend the Cyberdyne site, going over it all with Dean and with Cyberdyne's top management, drafting briefing papers for the Secretary and the

  White House, then talking to the Secretary in person. As events unfolded, they'd tried to understand what it all meant, to get a picture of what they were caught up in.

  In the room's farthest corner, a forty-two-inch TV screen showed CNN's coverage of the events in Colorado Springs. Jack had turned the sound down, leaving it just loud enough to hear if he really concentrated. Elsewhere in the huge building, all TV news coverage was being recorded. On the screen, a female reporter with dark, bobbed hair seemed to be describing the events of 1994, when the Connors had raided Cyberdyne's corporate headquarters in Los Angeles. Jack used his remote to turn up the sound.

  "There's still a mystery about this man," the reporter said. "Just who is he?" Her image was replaced by that of the individual who'd helped the Connors in 1994— supposedly the same man who'd killed seventeen police officers in a firefight ten years earlier still.

  Jack knew better. It was not the same man. In fact, neither "man" had even been human.

  CNN had no idea what was really at stake-and no TV cameras had gotten close to the Cyberdyne site. The image shifted to an aerial display of the site, taken from miles away, doubtless from a helicopter. It revealed very little. This coverage was useless as a source of information, but at least Jack could see what the public was being told. He flicked through the channels, getting rock videos, international sports, then another news bulletin, this one displaying a 1994 photograph of Sarah Connor, taken at the mental institution that had held her for over a year: the Pescadero State Hospital for the Criminally Insane. He went back to CNN, lowering the sound once more.

  "What the hell is going on?" he said with a groan. "Call in, Dean!"

  Samantha rolled her eyes in sympathy, then gave a nervous laugh. "Give him a minute or two. I assume he'll call as soon as something happens."

  Jack toyed with his gold-rimmed reading glasses. "Damn it, I'm going to call him."

  "All right, let's hear what he has to say. Put him on speaker."

  Samantha was a smartly-dressed woman in her forties. Her short, neatly-styled hair was dyed a muted shade of red-though it had been bright crimson when Jack had first met her, eight or nine years before. In her own manner, she was aging gracefully. She held degrees in law, economics and computer science, and had once been successful as a political consultant in private practice.

  Under the previous administration, she'd spent several years as an adviser on the Defense Secretary's staff. She now occupied a high-ranking position in the Department, just one level below Jack, giving specialist advice on America's most secret defense research programs. When he was absent for any reason, she had a direct reporting line to the top brass and the Secre
tary. Between them, she and Jack possessed much of the country's expertise on exactly what companies such as Cyberdyne were doing under their highly-classified contracts, where the research could lead, and what kind of edge it might give the U.S. forces over their many potential enemies.

  Jack pressed the speaker button on his telephone console, then keyed the preset button to call Dean in his Colorado office. If that didn't work, they'd try his cell phone. Dean Solomon was the civilian Defense officer with local oversight of security at the Cyberdyne facility, among others, working with Air Force and Cyberdyne staff. As they waited for him to answer, Samantha stood and walked closer, leaning against one of the armchairs. She looked down at the carpet, kicking at it nervously.

  There was a click on the other end of the line, then a deep, masculine voice answered over the speaker. "Solomon here."

  "It's Jack Reed again. What's going on, Dean?" As he spoke, Jack glanced at the TV screen, which still showed nothing useful, currently a photograph of Sarah Connor's face, then an old photo of her son, John, when he was nine or ten.

  "It's not looking good," Dean said. "I've been briefing Charles Layton. I was just about to call you."

  "Not looking good?" Samantha pushed forward from the armchair, leaning toward the phone.

  "No, not at all. I'll drive out there myself in a few minutes."

  Jack cursed silently. "All right Tell us the worst"

  PATRIOT HOTEL/CYBERDYNE RESEARCH SITE COLORADO SPRINGS

  Layton stepped inside the elevator, and touched the button for the hotel's underground garage. The elevator's rear wall was transparent giving a dramatic view of the hotel's huge, central atrium as he descended toward ground level. It was decorated with American flags and Japanese kites. An odd mixture, he thought. Human beings were so irrational.