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Connor nodded. “A little bruised, nothing serious. Chopper went down.” He gestured back the way he had come. “We were too low, searching. Hydrobots got us. I was the only one to make it to shore.”

The noncom’s lips tightened, comprehending. He glanced in the direction of the riverbank that was falling farther behind them with every step.

“Sir, any sign of him?”

Connor halted, turned, and looked back. Some sections of the river were still visible in the dim light. Of Wright there was no sign. No sign, in fact, that anything had ever been amiss along this winding stretch of dark water. Increasing his pace, he shook his head.

“No sign, soldier. Nothing to be done about it now. I guess he got away.”

The base brig was neither fancy nor extensive. It did not need to be either, since the great majority of its residents were transient. By far the most common reasons for temporary internment were the need to get some secured sleep as a result of an excess of drinking, to cool down from fighting with fellow soldiers, or to allow disputed gambling debts to be settled from adjoining cells.

Blair Williams’s case was very different.

For one thing, unlike the usual tenant she had not been left alone to stew in her own perfidy. A round-the-clock armed sentry had been posted outside her cell. She did not try to engage the rotating guards in conversation and they showed no inclination to want to talk to her. They had no idea what she was in for. It was none of their business. Within the constricted confines of the base it was an unspoken rule that you did not pry into the affairs of those around you lest one day the tables be turned.

Of the two men who were now standing outside the holding area, one had every intention of disregarding that rule. Vociferously.

As soon as the officer who had escorted him to the rearmost cell turned and departed, Williams sat up on the edge of her cot and regarded her visitor.

“Connor....” Solemnity quickly gave way to casual curiosity. “What brings you down to this humble abode?” She gestured at the enclosing walls. “It seems I’ve been reassigned.”

Her visitor had no time for small talk, or for jokes. Whatever he had on his mind, he was not in the mood for delay.

“Why’d you do it?”

Williams blinked back at him, her reply leavened with innocence.

“Do what?”

“Let Marcus go. Why would you break him out? He’s a machine. Just one more thread in Skynet’s web. I don’t get it.”

She had no intention of letting Connor lord it over her, even if she was a prisoner. Rising, she moved toward him. He did not back away. John Connor did not back away from anything, least of all a renegade—and possibly deranged—attack pilot.

“You say he’s part of Skynet’s planning. Not to me he isn’t. He’s—something else. Something we don’t understand, sure. But I saw a man. Not a machine. A person struggling with the same things we struggle with every day, John. Our own humanity. He’s a man trapped inside of a machine.” She shook her head sorrowfully. “I don’t know how it was done or for what reason, but he’s not a tool of Skynet. I don’t know how to explain it, but he’s—independent.” She met his unwavering stare without flinching. “Why d’you ask? Does it matter? You’ve already formed your opinion, haven’t you?”

Her interrogator did not reply. Sunk deep in thought, Connor was quiet for a long time. Then he looked up at her, and spoke.

“How’s the leg?

She winced.

“Hurts.”

There was another long moment of silence. Then he motioned to the soldier on guard.

“Let her go.”

The man hesitated. “Sir? Orders were to....”

“Let her go. On my order. I’ll take full responsibility.”

With a shrug, the soldier stepped aside. Of the very few people on the base whose commands were to be complied with implicitly, John Connor was foremost.

Williams watched Connor depart. He was clearly lost in thought. While she did not want to disturb him, it would have been nice to know why he had summarily ordered her released. Among the few words they had exchanged, what had convinced him to change his mind about her?

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