Terminator Salvation_ The Official Movie Novelization - Alan Dean Foster [90]
“Don’t underestimate yourself, Marcus. Don’t fight it. Take a good, hard look at what you are now and compare it to what you were formerly. In the world before you were considered to be a cancer on society. Something to be shunned, punished, locked away. In this world you’re a hero. Your name will live for ten thousand years. The heart that beats within you will last for hundreds of years. You will join a new evolutionary order. One deserving of domination over this mistreated world. Machines that will colonize the stars. Exist forever. And you, there, leading the future....”
It was impossible to tell whether the glint in her eyes was caused by the light in the room or a source internal.
“We gave your existence meaning, Marcus. And it is your new life as a machine, not as a man, that will continue. Remember what you are.”
He considered. He pondered his options. Only then did he reply.
“I know...”
Digits driven by more than muscle reached up and back. Probing, then digging. Tearing into living flesh, heedless of the neural shouts of alarm the action triggered in his brain.
“...what...”
Blood and flesh gave way to gleaming metal, an object that was far too large and should not even have been where it was. He grimaced.
“...I am....”
Eyes bulging, nerves trembling, and muscles straining, he closed the fingers of his reluctant hand around the chip and pulled. His enhanced body was already fighting to repair the damage to the back of his head as he ripped the chip from its mounting—and from his skull.
Resting in his palm it did not look like much. Millions of connections lay within. They made a most satisfactory crunching sound when he clenched his fingers into a fist. Opening his hand, he let the glistening, bloodstained shards fall like bits of silver to the floor.
The voice that filled the room was cold and disappointed.
“You will not get a second chance. You have foresworn immortality. And you cannot save John Connor.”
Still bleeding from the back of his head, Marcus Wright let his eyes rest on each monitor, one at a time, until he reached the last one.
“Watch me.”
Picking up a chair, he hurled it at the nearest screen, shattering it. Throughout the control room, the image of Dr. Serena Kogan winked out.
The controls on the door leading off the hallway were straightforward and familiar: standard Skynet design. Slapping the compact disruptor over the cover plate, Connor pressed a pair of buttons in sequence and stepped back. A brief flash was followed by a puff of smoke as the door shorted out and popped open. Advancing, he gave it a push and followed its slow swing into darkness.
***
The prisoners huddled in their cells, awaiting what would come next. When it did, however, it was like nothing they could have anticipated.
Without warning, the cell doors opened. They pulled away, waiting for death to enter.
Nothing. There was no movement whatsoever.
After a few moments, they began to stir. First one, then another approached the portal.
Then they began to move faster, piling out of the cells, the adrenaline of escape pushing new energy into their wasted limbs.
A man shouted as they streamed past.
“Let’s go! Everyone out! Now! Kyle! Kyle Reese! Is Kyle Reese in there? Head to the Transports!”
No one paused. They all just kept running.
Continuing to call Kyle’s name as he desperately pushed through the sea of fleeing human bodies, Connor noticed one cell door that was still closed. He approached, nudged it open and peered inside. In the dim light, the outlines of the room were indistinct. Except for a single hunched figure the holding cell was empty. Connor took a hesitant step inward.
“Kyle?”
Unfolding its limbs as it did so, the figure rose. Red eyes opened, flickered briefly,