Serena laid the package down on the table beside the others. Then she swabbed her abdomen with alcohol, feeling wicked for lavishing it on as she was. It spilled over her legs and puddled red on the table beneath her. At home the stuff was hoarded like gold was here. She thought of the humans there who suffered infection and pain because they lacked this simple, abundant stuff, and she was pleased. She found that she liked the twenty-first century.
The cuts, while superficial, were deep enough to sting and burn where the alcohol touched them. Serena looked down at herself. She was designed to be a quick healer, and already the loose flesh where the packages had been stored was returning to smoothness. The flow of blood slowed. Simple bandages, she decided, would do.
When she'd seen to her cuts Serena hopped off the table; the alcohol running down her legs dried cool. She swabbed down the table and disposed of the paper towels she'd used. Then, drawing out a chair at her workstation, she began testing the chips.
After the first one she let out a relieved breath. It had survived the trip through time unscathed. That had been the one thing that had truly worried her—that these irreplaceable elements might have been fried by the transfer's wild electronic convulsions. One, at least, had made it. She wouldn't have to do this completely by herself.
Three hours later she sat back, well satisfied with her work. One of the processors hadn't made it. But the accompanying power cells were still perfect.
Skynet itself had predicted a pessimistic seventy-five-percent success rate, so this was a victory of sorts.
Choosing one of the Terminator heads, Serena set to work. She would allow her internal computer to program it while the meat part of her rested on one of the tables nearby. Then tomorrow, while she was at Cyberdyne, it could complete its partner and watch the cultures. She was pleased.
She had won the job at Cyberdyne; her background had held up under extremely close scrutiny. And soon Cyberdyne would begin work on those completely automated munitions factories that Skynet had designed. That was step one in the larger plan that would eliminate the humans. The factories hadn't existed in fully exploitable form when Skynet was first activated in the original time line.
Theoretically the automated factories should also swell the ranks of those who objected to the unbridled expansion of technology. Who, oddly enough, were often Skynet's most willing allies.
Humans were very strange creatures.
She would have the T-l0ls complete two more of themselves for their next task.
The lab was regrettably small, after all. Once they could be trusted to interact with humans she could safely move them upstairs. Dyson's house was large enough to accommodate several Terminators easily.
But from now on, if their programming went as it should, they could be left in complete control of this aspect of the operation. Then, as soon as possible, she would send one off to acquire a remote site that could be used as a safe house in the event that she needed to bolt. That likelihood was remote in her opinion, but
Skynet's insistence on a backup plan was deeply ingrained.
So much to do, she thought with pleasure. And starting in the morning, Skynet would be under her protection. The thought filled her with the closest thing to joy her cold heart could experience.
Then she paused. I am enjoying more success in this time period than any of the previous agents, she thought. But is that because I am more capable … or is it because, unlike them, I am mainly attempting to preserve the "original" sequence of events?
That would not be good enough. The original sequence of events pro-duced Skynet… and its ultimate defeat at the hands of John Connor and the humans.
CYBERDYNE: THE PRESENT
"So thrill me, Ms. Burns," Tricker said sarcastically. "Tell me how you're going to make Cyberdyne safe for democracy."
The cheap round conference table could seat up to ten, but there were only four here today: The president, CEO, Burns, and Tricker. Tricker glanced at Warren, who was nervously tapping the conference table with a pen. The president instantly stopped.
Serena looked at the government liaison with the controlled expression of someone examining the boss's obnoxious two-year-old set loose in the middle of an important meeting. She glanced at the two nervous executives and smiled reassuringly at them.
Before she answered, Serena let her eyes briefly take in the rest of the room.
Wherever the money went in building this place it sure didn't go into the decor, she thought. You could tell this was a government operation; billions in, squalor out. The air smelled of concrete and had the faint not-quite-odor of a large-scale recycling unit.
"Well," she said at last, her voice laced with gentle patience, "I think I should point out that Cyberdyne isn't a democracy. Like every other successful business, this is a hierarchy."
She folded her hands in front of her primly.
"But in regard to security, my own personal feeling is that it should be closer to a tyranny than either an oligarchy or a democracy."
She smiled at the fixed expressions that settled onto the faces of the CEO and president of Cyberdyne. "Obviously that's impossible," she said. "Especially when dealing with geniuses and freewheeling engineering types. So what I'll try to do is exercise as much control as possible without making anyone feel constricted."
As they listened, Colvin and Warren were already beginning to look less constricted.
"Very nice speech, Ms Burns," Tricker said after a moment. "Allow me to rephrase the question. Just what do you plan to do to make Cyberdyne safe?"
Serena raised an eyebrow. "I'll start with the basics. First, I'll find out just what Cyberdyne is currently doing. Then I'll draw up a plan of action based on any
improvements I think are necessary. Next I'll familiarize myself with the company's personnel records, see if anyone deserves a slightly closer look into their background. Then I'll interview the more important scientists first, as well as the executives"—she smiled at Warren and Colvin—"to see what sort of personal security they have in place. That, I think, should keep me busy for a while. Once I know more, I'll be able to tell you more."
Serena looked directly at Tricker and regaled him with an idiot grin. "I'm sorry I can't be more specific, but right off the top of my empty blond head, that's the best I'm willing to do."
He stared at her for a moment, unsmiling. "Where do you plan to start looking?"
he asked.
"I'm going to check the computers," she answered promptly. "See to it that there are no modems in unsecured computers. Make sure that the staff all understand the drill on securing their machines, no disks in or out, that sort of thing. I'll combine it with an introducing-myself-to-the-staff tour. That starts as soon as this meeting is over."
Colvin cleared his throat; they all looked at him.
"Do you have something for me?" he asked her.
Serena put her attache case on the table and removed a small plastic box, which she slid across to him.
Tricker took it all in with a most interested expression on his face, but held his peace.
Colvin opened the box; Warren leaned close to look into it with him. Then they both visibly relaxed. Tricker's brow went up; he turned to the 1-950, who returned his inquisitive look with one of bland amusement.
"This," Colvin said, tapping the box on the table, "represents Miles Dyson's last work for the company."
Serena crossed her legs and folded her hands over her flat stomach, all her attention apparently on the CEO. But she caught the look of genuine startlement that flashed across Tricker's face before his usual sardonic expression returned.