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He broke off as a shape went shooting past him, seemed to hang in the air above the pit for a long second, and then went arcing downward. Like a spider’s silken support strand, a single braid of climbing cable trailed from Connor’s harness, glistening in the desert sunlight.

Away from the edge of the abyss, one of his men kept a watchful eye on the link where the other end of the cable had been secured to a twisted, seared hunk of aircraft debris.

Unable to decide whether to curse or cheer at Connor’s unhesitating initiative, Olsen settled for waving at the clusters of men who stood gawking at the younger man’s rapid descent into darkness.

“All right, single file! Everyone after Connor! Let’s go, go go!”

Swinging slightly at the end of the cable, Connor could not hear the general. Pulling a flare from his service belt and igniting it, he tossed it outward. It sank into blackness, revealing only fleetingly the extent of the underground labyrinth that marched off in all directions. The subterranean facility was enormous. Like the others, he had expected it to be sizable, but this was far beyond anything they had been led to expect.

He hung quietly at the end of his tether, not making a sound, waiting for his fellow spider-soldiers to join him.

Jet swings gave them access to the side corridors. One by one, individual teams fanned out into the depths of the vast complex.

The human infection is coming, Connor thought with satisfaction as he led his men into one flooded tunnel. Waist-deep in water, he took his usual position at point. Other team leaders preferred to stay in the rear or move forward only when surrounded by their troops. Not Connor. He looked forward to leading the way physic-ally as well as tactically. It was a decision that had taught him something early on: Soldiers are far more likely to follow a leader who actually leads.

Weapons at the ready, David and Tunney hung close behind. As they advanced, David was muttering under his breath. Connor knew why but said nothing. David didn’t mind dirt, wasn’t afraid of action, would take on half a dozen enemy all by himself without bothering to call for backup—but he couldn’t swim. Not normally a cause for concern in the southwestern deserts, and yet here he was up to his collywobbles in water.

Tunney flanked David, and Connor suspected it was all he could do to restrain himself from commenting on his partner’s obvious discomfort.

The burrower bomb had done its work well. Ceilings had collapsed throughout the tunnel, unattended flames ate at advanced instrumentation, and the distinctive red lighting typical of Skynet environments flickered unsteadily. Connor would have been perfectly happy to see it all wink out, turn black and lifeless. If that happened, he and his men had come equipped with adequate illumination of their own.

The percussive chorale of distant gunfire echoed faintly through the corridor they were probing. Evidently some of the other squads were encountering more than just dim lighting and broken plumbing.

Something stirred the water behind them, and it wasn’t a consequence of collapsing infrastructure. By the time the T-1 was half out of the water both David and Tunney were whirling on it. It was David who got off the necessary burst. Shards of metal and carbon fiber splinters went flying as the would-be assassin was blown apart.

“Hey bro, I thought it was my turn.” With the muzzle of his own weapon, Tunney nudged a floating scrap of Terminator.

David shrugged. “Gotta be faster than that, Ton. I’m going for a new high score. But I’ll sit back and watch while you take out the next two.”

His partner grinned tightly. “’Preciate it, bro. Anyway, if you’re going for T-1s, you’re not even in the game.”

“Over here.” Connor interrupted, calling to them from just up ahead. Instantly the two soldiers were all business again.

Shouldering his weapon, Connor used both hands to tug on the large handle of a heavy door set in the tunnel wall. It refused