Terminator Salvation_ The Official Movie Novelization - Alan Dean Foster [21]
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As the airship moved with lethal deliberation through the canyons of the ruined city, it scanned its surroundings with an assortment of sensitive instrumentation. Seeking sound or movement, it passed by the three inert figures splayed on the ground without reacting.
Wright winced slightly as a nearby still-standing tower crumbled from the effects of the airship’s vibration.
The three humans stayed motionless even after the giant machine’s last aural twitch had receded into the distance. Taking his cue from his younger but far more knowledgeable companions, Wright didn’t rise until they did. The teen explained before Wright could ask his question.
“HK—Hunter-Killer. Can’t stop that with an improvised spring trap.” He nodded forward. “We should keep moving.”
As they resumed their march Wright glanced toward the girl.
“How’d she know? That it was coming.”
The youngster looked uncertain.
“Not sure. Just glad she does. Better than talking. She’s got a sixth sense or something about the machines. She’s kept me alive plenty.” He lengthened his stride. “We’re too exposed here. Pick it up.”
Wright matched the teen’s pace effortlessly.
“You know my name now. Who are you?”
“What’s it matter?” The teen dodged around the scorched wreck of a city bus. “You had my gun. Why didn’t you shoot me?”
“Why would I have done that? I don’t shoot people just because....” A memory came rushing back. A bad one. Wright’s voice trailed away without finishing the declaration.
The teen frowned at him, appeared to hesitate, came to a decision.
“My name’s Kyle Reese. Come on. Let’s go.”
It had been dark outside for a while by the time the tech crew and their heavily armed escort arrived. Water dripped from the tarp-wrapped object they were carrying. When they finally laid it down on the place that had been cleared for it, the display table groaned under the weight. Beneath the tarp, extremities akin to limbs were thrashing uselessly. Connor was still careful not to get too close.
Carefully pulling back the tarp, the tech chief revealed an intact Hydrobot. Superbly if inhumanly engineered to operate in the water, on dry land it struggled to carry out its programmed functions. It was unable to prevent the silent soldiers from securing it to the tabletop. The tech chief eyed it with grim approval.
“We fried its transmitter and backup, so it can’t call any of its pals. But it can still receive.”
Connor nodded. He had been briefed on what to expect. His gaze was intent as he scrutinized the small, crudely cobbled-together transmitter that rested on a nearby bench.
“Turn it on. You got it?”
The tech nodded. “Give me the strap.” Holding the device, the senior technician flipped a switch. A soft hum came from the transmitter’s battery. The setup was far from state-of-the-art, but it functioned.
Proof that both the transmitter’s circuitry and programming were working was provided by the Hydrobot. It spasmed once, then went inert on the table. Connor pointed out to the tech that while the single red light in the center of the machine’s head faded to an ember, it did not wink out entirely.
The chief technician nodded. “The code signal creates a disrupt. It’s not a permanent turn-off or we’d simply send out the broadcast and shut down all the machines.”
Connor grunted. “So it’s more of a ‘pause’ than an ‘off’ switch.”
“I’m afraid so,” the tech told him. “And the signal has to be continuous in order to sustain the effect. Any interruption and....” He flipped the switch back.
The Hydrobot immediately jerked back to life, beating violently but futilely at the tabletop and its bonds. Locking eyes with Connor, it snapped viciously in his direction. He studied it dispassionately, like a defiant mouse that had suddenly managed to turn the tables on its would-be