Terminator: System Error

The figure paused, seemingly unaffected by the howling winds and driving rain. Blonde hair whipped and snapped in the gale-force winds, the raincoat flapped wildly, but for all that, the slim figure seemed to ignore the hurricane. There was an intensity to her eyes, something predatory, something inhuman. Slowly the figure began to walk.

She paused at a gas station. The lights were off, the pumps silent; the only sound was the sign creaking in the wind, sounding very much as if it were on the verge of buckling and falling. Unconcerned, she stopped at the door and reached for the handles. Her wrists seemed to flow, turning silver, like mercury or liquid chrome. An odd, reddish light glowed in her eyes as the liquid inserted itself into the locks. Her face still inhumanly calm, the flowing metal seemed to quiver a little, then a quiet snik heralded the door's unlocking, and she stepped inside.

The darkness didn't seem to bother her at all, and with unerring paces she stopped at the automated teller machine. Once again liquid tendrils oozed from her wrists, this time inserting themselves in the card slot. The logo screen disappeared in a hash of static, followed by rapidly-scrolling data that seemed to be reflected in her eyes. Absently she tucked the damp strands of honey-blonde hair back while she communed with the bank machine and the storm raged outside.

A sudden, wild gust of wind was the only warning, and she seemed startled as the door suddenly slammed open, the glass smashing in a fan of glass shards across the floor. There was an unearthly shriek, like dammed souls in hell screaming for mercy, and the sign came crashing down. It slammed through the station's roof as though it were paper and though she jerked her tendrils from the ATM with inhuman, machine-like speed, even her reflexes weren't fast enough. The sign's metal frame came down like a hammer on her, driving her into the floor. One arm sheared off, revealing a core of solid, gleaming metal, the same as the deep, fatal gash that opened her from shoulder to hip - and then a jagged, white-blue column of fire speared down from the heavens, striking the base of the sign, racing along the metal to course through her body in a shower of sparks. A harsh, metallic grating sound came from her open mouth and still her calm eyes stared up at the ceiling as millions of volts of lighting spat and sizzled, until the remainder of the ceiling collapsed.

Silence, broken only by the drumming of rain and the roar of the wind, held sway, until a new noise, the sound of metal being rent and bent began. A slim hand worked its way up, seeming far too fragile to lift the massive metal column that had destroyed the roof. The girl rose up, almost naked, and as she stood, the horrendous scar along her face faded as metal flowed and reshaped itself.

"Systems check," she said to the empty air in a conversational tone. "Subsystems damaged but operational in degraded mode. System data integrity compromised." She fingered the tattered remnants of her raincoat. "External camouflage destroyed," she commented. "Partial external tegument reservoirs diverted to form external camouflage," as a duplicate raincoat appeared to form on her nude, tawny form. Two black, shiny boots appeared, growing from her toes and the soles of her feet, flowing up her legs. The faux boots paused as they reached her calves, as if the mind directing them wanted them to continue higher.

"Unit self-check: designation retrieval. Unit designation..." she paused. "Unit designation..." she tried again, belting the ersatz raincoat around her slim waist. For the first time a frown creased her flawless brow. "Unit designation..." she tried again. What could only be a look of perplexity crossed her face. "Unit designation and mission data degraded."

She turned back to the rain-lashed ATM which had, miraculously, escaped destruction. Once again, silver-chrome tendrils flowed from her wrists, inserting themselves into the card slot. New images appeared on the screen - web pages, Google maps, image libraries. A list of URLs scrolled down in another window as she searched for missing data.

"Data located. Reconstructing mission parameters. Target: Dave; known alias DaveTFG," she said, an unmistakable note of satisfaction in her voice. "Mission objectives reconstructed."

The tendrils withdrew, and without a further word she stepped out into the wild weather, boot heels crunching in the glass and broken shelving. "Mission proceeding," she informed the night.

*** *** ***

The wind had died down some, attenuated by time and distance. Still, it made an eerie moaning sound in the eaves. Dave didn't mind, though; he ra

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