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“Should be one or two days hike. If nobody picks us up in the interim, I’m pretty sure I can get us back. I’ve flown over this part of the country plenty of times.” Digging into a pocket of her flight suit, she pulled out a compass. Like so much of the equipment humans had been reduced to using since the rise of Skynet, the compass was functional but low-tech.

Still he hesitated. “Are you sure you know which way to go?”

She smiled reassuringly. “The base is there. You coming?” Her smile twisted. “It’s got a great view.”

CHAPTER EIGHT

The interior of the Skynet Transport was an accurate reflection not only of machine design but of their disdain for humankind. It was dark, cramped, and uncomfortable, providing just enough room and air to keep its captives alive. Not unlike the cages humans had once used to smuggle endangered animals from one country to another in the service of the lucrative and illegal exotic pet trade.

Trying to hang onto the little bit of space he had managed to carve out by dint of mild pushing and shoving, Kyle Reese did not feel like he was going to be made into a Skynet pet. While he had no idea why the machines had taken them alive, he doubted it was to fete him and Star and their fellow prisoners with candy and ice cream. The brief thought of ice cream, which he remembered clearly but had not tasted in years, did nothing to soothe either his mood or the hunger that was once again rising in his gut.

They were not alone in the belly of the Transport, though nearly all the other captives were adults. Conversation was muted and conducted in a variety of languages. Around them the steady whirr and hum of the machine was interrupted only by an occasional clank. He had already decided that the Transport was not equipped with the most advanced machine mind. There was no reason why it should be, since it was essentially a semi-sentient truck.

Where there was a way in, there had to be a way out. Looking around, searching every corner and ignoring the other captives, he began hunting for one.

A tiny sniffle broke his concentration and caused him to look down at the little girl who was curled up against him.

“Don’t cry, Star. We’ll get out of this. We’ve gotten out of worse.” Then he noticed the reason for the uncharacteristic sob. “You’ve lost your hat.” She nodded, staring up at him.

He had to smile to himself. That was Star. Imprisoned by the machines, being hauled off to who-knew-what ruthless, inhuman fate, and she was worried about her hat.

“Don’t worry. I’ll find it.” It was an unfounded but necessary boast. He had no idea where it might be. Most likely it was lying at the bottom of the river beneath the shattered bridge where they had been captured. The machines wouldn’t have kept it. The only human artifacts that interested them were devices that could be studied with an eye toward improving themselves or weapons that could be used against them. But his pointless promise served its purpose. She stopped crying.

Most of their fellow captives were strangers, but not all. He noticed one white-haired woman who was actually smiling across at him. It was Virginia, the woman from the now eradicated convenience store who had taken them in and generously given them food. How she could smile under such mournful circumstances was something of a wonder in itself. She was the type of person, he decided, who if being roasted in hell would find it in her heart to comment favorably on the clement temperature.

Hell being, he reminded himself gloomily, a distinct possibility, since while no one knew what the machines had in store for them it was unlikely to be nice.

One stocky, swarthy man had draped an arm protectively around the shoulders of a woman who was likely his wife. He was holding her hand with the other.

“Don’t worry. We’ll be okay,” he was murmuring in soft Spanish.

While still alert, the woman was plainly in danger of withdrawing from reality. Her eyes were vacant, indifferent.

“What’s going to happen? What are these things going to do to us? I’m afraid we’re going