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Mission: Impossible
A Terminator Short Story
From A Terminator Point of View
Segment One
Redness filled its vision; it curled its fingers in an all too human manner. Glancing downwards it visually checked its servos and mechanics; all were in prime working condition.
With a hiss the hydraulic supports holding it’s skeleton disengaged and lowered into the floor. The CPU computed all incoming messages within microseconds, the Unit moved forward.
Joining a line of similar Units it moved through the metallic, hive-like tunnels. Soon it came to a cross-spur tunnel, turning left it headed toward a black unmarked door. Sliding open the door revealed one of three "skinning" stations in the sector. Off and to the left was another holding harness like the one it had been activated from. Walking over it turned and backed into its grasp, it locked into position.
The Unit shut itself down, the red glow of its eyes dwindled to nothing, and then the harness moved forward along its track. In front of it the wall slid open along a nearly invisible seam. White lights snapped on inside, small chemical misters turned on. Green lasers played across the Unit eradicating any tiny germs which had landed on it during the walk over. The wall closes again cutting off the view.
In the darkness of the bombardment chamber "muscle sacks" are placed on the Unit, then skin becomes visible. Localized spots begin to grow tendrils, which form more patches. Very quickly the skin becomes more and more complete, until it covers all correct areas. The Unit blinks, (perhaps due to a mechanical synapse firing), the skin of the eyelids moves normally. Two robotic arms reach downwards holding the sphere shaped eye covers with brown Irises. They go over the lifeless red eyes; the Unit now looks almost perfectly human.
Moments later, re-activated and in another room the Unit pulls on an off-white vest. It then buttons up a military style top one button at a time. Servos capable of snuffing a life with ease, just as at ease doing the delicate buttons. Pulling on a pair of boxers, and then camouflage pants, pulling up socks and lashing military style steel toed boots. Standing up suddenly alert looking for the world like a Resistance soldier, it moves into yet another featureless hall.
Segment Two
The mans eyes open slowly, and are quickly squeezed shut due to the acrid sting of the refuse and waste in his holding cell. Leftover food, the clean picked bones of small rodents litter the room. Overhead a pipe rattles and clanks the man braces as ice-cold water pummels him from above. The small covered drain opens and the man quickly moves as much over the refuse into it as possible. Then silence, things return to as they were moments before then a mechanical voice.
"Raise barcode for internal scanner."
The man holds up his right arm, and a red laser scans the dirt-smeared barcode. After a few moments of silence the mechanical voice speaks again.
"Private Dennis Sokol confirm your identity."
The man looks up at the hidden speaker, he sneers as he replies.
"Up yours toaster brain!"
After a few moments of quiet the mechanical voice sounds from the speaker.
"Identity confirmed."
There is a whirring sound. Private Sokol turns to see a small sink with a bar of soap and a mirror. To him it’s like a cruel joke, or surreal dream; however once he reaches the sink he grasps its’ solid shape.
"Clean up and follow the unit who comes to retrieve you."
Sokol begins to clean his hands, and face of the grime of war, he smiles to himself.
The Unit in its Resistance fatigues walks the halls, as relaxed as any human, wasted body movement and all. Pulling an ancient pack of smokes from its pocket it puts one between its lips. As it continues to walk it passes a worker unit welding a metal panel.
"Light it," it says holding out the cigarette.
The welding torch touches its tip, then is turned to the metal again, the tip of the cigarette glows cherry red.
In the Termovision overlay we see carcinogens harmful to humans, recommend encouraging Resistance Soldiers to smoke 10 packs a day.
"Or just Terminate them," it muses as it approaches the Detention Cells.
Inside the Detention Cell Sokol admires his face in the mirror; it is badly bruised but the swelling has been allowed to recede.
"Prepare to follow Unit to new living quarters."
Sokol turns as the door slides open to reveal an Infiltrator Unit, he moves forward quickly, not wanting to linger. They stand for a moment in silence then the Unit motions him forward. Sokol smiles slightly as he starts off having noticed that the unit is smoking.
Resistance HQ Washington D.C.
General Connor is animated conversation with Bullseye, Reese, Sarah, The Terminator and assorted Commanders.
"You don’t think I care about the soldiers I send out to the battlefront!"
The General looks dumbstruck as he continues," I’ll admit it sometimes I may seem as if I don’t give a shit…however if you think for one moment that I don’t give a damn whether a soldier lives or dies-"
Sarah jumps in placating the man who she still treats as a son," John we don’t doubt that you have a conscience…it’s just that the numbers are so bad-"
"We’ve lost forty-two percent of all soldiers fielded within the last year, and I don’t think I need to tell you….that we’re running out of people."
"Sir," Bullseye cuts in," I hate to be the person to bring this up but we don’t really have a choice in the matter-"
General Connor frowns at Bullseye,"You’d better not be about to suggest-"
"No I’m suggesting it Sir," says Commander Balan standing, "we need to talk with the Southsiders."
Silence, utter silence.
General Connor stands the metal legs of the chair scraping across the floor.
"I can’t believe we’re standing here saying this, after all of the problems we’ve had with the Southsiders in the past-"
"That’s right, the problems are in the past now General,"Bullseye stops to think and then continues," they’re under new leadership now. We’ve existed alongside them for two years. I think that’s it’s about time that we at least talked with them about, pooling our resources and working together."
The fire suddenly seems to go out of the Generals eyes; he slumps into his seat closes his eyes and rubs the bridge of his nose.
His guard drops, and he begins to speak his mind.
"Do you have any idea how much I hate this war, I hated this war before some of you were even born. Whenever I thought about it before J-Day, it was like a virus in my system. Eating and eating away at my defenses, you cannot possibly understand how it was for me. I was supposed to be a kid, to ride my dirt bike, steal money from ATM’s…play hooky from school-"
Some laughter from around the table, the General smiles then continues voice choked in irony.
"But not me, I grew up learning advanced weapons training. How to make explosives out of simple household ingredients- how to tell a T-1000 mother from the real thing. Constantly on the run from assassins through time, keeping alive because I had to be….had to be this great leader."
"I didn’t want this job, I didn’t fill out an application form, and it was thrust upon me. I hated it, I still hate it. The damn thing hangs about my neck like an albatross, a talisman I just wish I could be rid of but I can’t. Not until Skynet is wiped from the face of this planet, and we can once again watch a sunrise without fear of getting our heads blown off."
"Yes we will have to make sacrifices, we will also have to make alliances. Because we cannot afford to give up, we must work together, for there is no fate."
"Bullseye," the General is back in decision-making mode," get a hold of the Southsiders set up a meeting place and time."
"Yes sir, "replies Bullseye getting up and dashing out of the room.
"This meeting is adjourned."
Segment 4