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Authors: Timothy Zahn
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it. Also so he wouldn’t have to look at her slouched there asleep in the pilot’s seat while he plodded through the desert sand.
Because he knew full well what this was all about. She could deny it all she liked, but he knew better. This trip was Connor’s way of trying to nudge the two of them into making up.
Right. When hell froze over.
He glowered toward the Blackhawk. Unfortunately, much as he would like to think of Williams as stupid, he knew better. The girl was smart. Sometimes too smart for her own good, but still smart. Even if you had to hold your nose while you did it, she was usually worth listening to.
Especially since in this particular case Barnes knew down deep that she was right. Back at the lab, in the middle of the Terminator attack, it had taken him longer than he’d expected to locate and grab the minigun he’d spotted earlier that afternoon. The H-K had had plenty to time to get the range, and by all rights it should have blown the chopper into scrap.
Only it hadn’t. Dodging away from Barnes’s firing cone had been a reasonable thing for it to do. Trying to force the chopper down without destroying it hadn’t.
He scowled up at the night sky, sending a flood of cold air down the neck of his jacket. Could the H-K have been out of ammo? That might explain it. Maybe Skynet had decided that dropping the big machine on top of the Blackhawk would be the fastest and simplest way to destroy it.
But that didn’t make any sense. For one thing, all the H-K would have had to do was nudge its armored nose or flank into the Blackhawk’s main rotor hard enough to shatter it. A chopper without a rotor wasn’t going anywhere. Alternatively, it could have just dropped straight down on top of the Blackhawk instead of wasting time dancing with it.
And finally, the damn thing hadn’t been out of ammo. Barnes had proved that himself by blowing up the Gatling guns’ ammo canisters.
Had Skynet been trying to take him and Williams alive, then? That idea sent a shiver up Barnes’s back that had nothing to do with the night air. Especially after that glimpse of hell he’d had in San Francisco when they were busting Connor out.
But wanting to capture the chopper’s crew still didn’t explain not wrecking the chopper itself.
Unless it was the chopper that Skynet actually wanted.
Barnes chewed at his lip. Even before San Francisco had gone up in Connor’s massive explosion Skynet had been running low on resources. Their own experience with the L.A. supply depot had proved that.
But could it really be hurting so badly for aircraft that it would stoop to stealing Blackhawks?
Especially this particular Blackhawk. It was typical of what the Resistance had to work with these days: old, tired, and patched in a dozen places, with engines that had been revamped, rebuilt, and were held together with spit and curses. It was purely through the minor miracles of people like their genius mechanic Wince that aircraft like this were even still flying. The H-K itself had been in far better shape.
Not now, of course. But it had been when it started out. Yet Skynet had apparently been willing to gamble it for the Blackhawk.
And then, abruptly, he got it.
Skynet didn’t want just a Blackhawk. It wanted a Resistance Blackhawk, with all the flaws and patchwork that any genuine Resistance fighter would automatically know to look for.
Skynet was looking for an infiltration vehicle.
Cyberdyne Systems Model 101 . Connor had muttered that over and over as Barnes and Wright carried him out of the San Francisco hellhole. When Barnes had asked Kate about it later, she’d told him the 101 was part of a new Terminator series, the T-800s. She’d described them as Skynet’s first attempt at a serious infiltrator model, with human flesh covering an updated version of the T-700 endoskeleton.
How she could possibly know things like that Barnes couldn’t guess. She’d been pretty vague when he’d asked her about it. Probably
Because he knew full well what this was all about. She could deny it all she liked, but he knew better. This trip was Connor’s way of trying to nudge the two of them into making up.
Right. When hell froze over.
He glowered toward the Blackhawk. Unfortunately, much as he would like to think of Williams as stupid, he knew better. The girl was smart. Sometimes too smart for her own good, but still smart. Even if you had to hold your nose while you did it, she was usually worth listening to.
Especially since in this particular case Barnes knew down deep that she was right. Back at the lab, in the middle of the Terminator attack, it had taken him longer than he’d expected to locate and grab the minigun he’d spotted earlier that afternoon. The H-K had had plenty to time to get the range, and by all rights it should have blown the chopper into scrap.
Only it hadn’t. Dodging away from Barnes’s firing cone had been a reasonable thing for it to do. Trying to force the chopper down without destroying it hadn’t.
He scowled up at the night sky, sending a flood of cold air down the neck of his jacket. Could the H-K have been out of ammo? That might explain it. Maybe Skynet had decided that dropping the big machine on top of the Blackhawk would be the fastest and simplest way to destroy it.
But that didn’t make any sense. For one thing, all the H-K would have had to do was nudge its armored nose or flank into the Blackhawk’s main rotor hard enough to shatter it. A chopper without a rotor wasn’t going anywhere. Alternatively, it could have just dropped straight down on top of the Blackhawk instead of wasting time dancing with it.
And finally, the damn thing hadn’t been out of ammo. Barnes had proved that himself by blowing up the Gatling guns’ ammo canisters.
Had Skynet been trying to take him and Williams alive, then? That idea sent a shiver up Barnes’s back that had nothing to do with the night air. Especially after that glimpse of hell he’d had in San Francisco when they were busting Connor out.
But wanting to capture the chopper’s crew still didn’t explain not wrecking the chopper itself.
Unless it was the chopper that Skynet actually wanted.
Barnes chewed at his lip. Even before San Francisco had gone up in Connor’s massive explosion Skynet had been running low on resources. Their own experience with the L.A. supply depot had proved that.
But could it really be hurting so badly for aircraft that it would stoop to stealing Blackhawks?
Especially this particular Blackhawk. It was typical of what the Resistance had to work with these days: old, tired, and patched in a dozen places, with engines that had been revamped, rebuilt, and were held together with spit and curses. It was purely through the minor miracles of people like their genius mechanic Wince that aircraft like this were even still flying. The H-K itself had been in far better shape.
Not now, of course. But it had been when it started out. Yet Skynet had apparently been willing to gamble it for the Blackhawk.
And then, abruptly, he got it.
Skynet didn’t want just a Blackhawk. It wanted a Resistance Blackhawk, with all the flaws and patchwork that any genuine Resistance fighter would automatically know to look for.
Skynet was looking for an infiltration vehicle.
Cyberdyne Systems Model 101 . Connor had muttered that over and over as Barnes and Wright carried him out of the San Francisco hellhole. When Barnes had asked Kate about it later, she’d told him the 101 was part of a new Terminator series, the T-800s. She’d described them as Skynet’s first attempt at a serious infiltrator model, with human flesh covering an updated version of the T-700 endoskeleton.
How she could possibly know things like that Barnes couldn’t guess. She’d been pretty vague when he’d asked her about it. Probably
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