c.23

November 2029

Home Plate

When Kyla and her dogs entered the room, the poker game was already fully under way. The biggest pile of assault rifle batteries and slug-thrower ammunition rested in front of Sato, who had his back to the door. Ten wore a disgusted look. J. L., his right forearm still in a cast, looked hopelessly lost. Beside him, Lana had the second-largest pile of winnings and wore a big, superior grin. Between her and Sato sat Eliza, watching but not playing.

They all looked over as Kyla entered. The humans waved. Eliza said, “Is it another test?”

Kyla nodded. “Yes.” She tried to keep her voice neutral. Eliza would never care that Kyla hated her mechanical guts for being the focus of the operation that had cost Paul Keeley’s life. The irony of it, the part that really stung, was the fact that Eliza’s own memory had turned out to include files that would have allowed the Resistance to remotely reprogram Paul’s implant, making it a tool for him to use rather than a beacon for Skynet to home in on. If they’d managed to keep Eliza after the Santa Fe capture, Paul would still be alive, at home, in possession of the world’s most convenient radio.

Kyla took hold of her dogs’ collars. Normally they didn’t wear such restraints, but this was a special situation.

She led them up to Eliza, who dutifully held her hands out toward the dogs. But before Ginger and Ripper got close enough to give her a good sniff, their ears went back.

Both animals lunged forward, barking, growling savagely. Kyla hauled back on their leashes. “Good!” she shouted. “Back!”

Still growling, they obeyed. She took them to a corner and commanded them to sit. They did, their attention still on the T-X. Their tails did not wag. Ginger offered an unhappy whine.

“Not bad,” Ten said. “What is it they’re detecting?”

“I’ve taught them to react to faint sounds from her internal servos,” Kyla said. “Too high and too quiet for us. But we’re getting about a ninety-five percent recognition rate on this, no matter what she smells like and no matter what form she takes. I’ve written a report to be distributed to all the other dog handlers in the Resistance.” She joined the others at the table, looked over the winnings and losings. “The boss goes on a shooting spree.”

Sato grinned. “If only I’d been born back when mass murderers were in vogue, huh?” Then, his face going to professional neutrality, he stood and saluted. The others rose and all but Lana followed suit.

Kyla turned. Her parents were entering the door. She saluted.

Her father smiled at her. “At ease. We’re off-duty, too. We just wanted to read you a transmission we just received. It was attached to routine reports and updates from Big Bear. It’s private, but I’m going to invoke presidential powers and have it read to everyone here.”

Big Bear Compound was situated near what had been Cheyenne, Wyoming. It was well-known as a habitat that bred good hunters and trackers.

Kate pulled a printout from a shirt pocket, unfolded it, and read: “‘Special to H-H-Two.’”

Kyla felt everyone’s eyes on her. She’d never received a piece of personal mail over a high-priority transmission link before.

Kate, grinning, continued, “‘Tired from a long walk, but looking forward to getting home soon. Thanks for everything you taught me. It was a real life-saver. And tell the Greek that I found an engraver. Signed, Sleeps-With-Toasters.’”

Kyla didn’t feel herself sag, but suddenly Sato had his arm around her, was settling her down in his chair. She managed to say, “That’s for real?” Her voice emerged as a squeak.

John nodded. “Confirmed by the honcho at Big Bear.”

Kyla heard whistles and applause from behind her. She didn’t have the energy to turn. She just concentrated on her breathing. She felt nearly a month’s worth of worry and sorrow begin to leave her.

Eliza asked, “Was that Paul?”

Kyla glanced at her. “Yeah.”

Eliza turned toward John and Kate. She smiled. “Tell him I said hi.”