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It had been a long time since Connor had experienced the kind of deep contentment brought him by the sight of the deactivated Hunter-Killer. He smiled meaningfully at Barnes.

“If you’re going to kill something, especially a Terminator, get close enough to make sure you finish the job. Toughest soldier I ever knew taught me that.”

Barnes’s eyebrows rose, reflecting his interest.

“Yeah? Who was that?”

“My mother.”

Turning, Connor started toward the tech carrying the transmitter. “Status report.”

The technician was studying the control panel he held in both hands.

“This thing burns through a lot of power. Batteries are getting hot already. Long-range units are going to need forty, maybe fifty kilowatts. Sustainable kilowatts.” He looked at the squad leader. “With that kind of draw, this power pack can maintain transmission for another ten minutes, maybe twelve.”

Connor nodded to show that he understood, turned to the watching members of the squad.

“Well, what are you waiting for? It’s party time.”

Whoops and hollers of delight rose from the tightly knit group of men and women. Connor watched as they disappeared down the stairs. Knowing what was coming, he beckoned to Barnes and the tech, leading them to the far side of the building. Moments later several massive detonations ripped the night air as the demolition team set off the explosives they had planted on the now-powerless killing machine.

Chunks of concrete and shards of rubble rained down on the side of the roof where he and his people had been gathered earlier. They were gratified to see that the debris contained numerous chunks of twisted, scorched metal. The shouts from the street below that followed the fading explosions resounded louder than ever. Connor nodded thoughtfully to no one in particular.

It also had been a long time since he had heard his fellow humans cheer like that.

He pulled a communicator from his service belt, the most up-to-date available in the Resistance inventory. It took a moment to set up a secure contact. When the operator came through, he barked, “This is John Connor. Get me a line with Command.”

The delay required to establish the necessary connection allowed him to reflect on how peaceful it was in the absence of combat. It was a reverie that did not last long. He recognized the voice on the other end of the line immediately.

“Connor?” General Ashdown’s voice had lost none of its intrinsic sharpness. “Tell me the damn thing works.”

“Would I be in contact with you now if it didn’t?”

“So it functions like we hoped?”

“That’s affirmative, but it’s just as the engineers diagrammed it. I mean that the signal has to be continuous until demolition of the objective has been achieved. Which means that, also according to projections, the machines will be able to track any transmitter location while it’s in the process of broadcasting. Anyone utilizing this system will be giving up their position.”

The glee in Ashdown’s voice was unmistakable.

“I don’t see what the problem is. As long as the signal works, there’ll be nothing left to do the tracking.”

The general had a point.

“I can do this, but I need more time. One successful trial run isn’t adequate.”

“No, there is no more time. We don’t have time. The attack commences tomorrow. 0400, worldwide.” Ashdown paused a moment, as if consulting something unseen. “Your unit will be in support of the bombing of Skynet Central.”

Connor frowned at the communicator.

“Bombing? According to our latest intelligence, Skynet Central is filled with human captives. What’s the extraction plan for the prisoners?”

Ashdown did not waver. “Extraction plan? There is no extraction plan. This is a war for the survival of the human race, Connor. We’ll do our mourning after we’ve won it. The names of a few hundred more can be added to the millions who have already perished.” There was a pause. “Leadership has its cost. You, above all, should know that.”

Without another word the line went dead. Connor stared at the communicator for a long moment, until he