Terminator Salvation by Alan Dean Foster

Author:Alan Dean Foster [Foster, Alan Dean]
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi
ISBN: 9781848569300
Publisher: Titan
Published: 2010-11-10T16:00:00+00:00

It took four of them to carry him into the infirmary. A limping Williams was among them, moving at approximately two obscene adjectives per linear yard. All the while she was talking to him, trying to get a response, any kind of response. It didn’t matter whether she pleaded, cried, cursed, or cajoled: there was no reaction from the battered body.

“The damn mines...those damn techs,” she was muttering as she strained to hold up her portion of his weight. “They’re supposed to react only to the presence of Terminators!”

In front of her, Barnes growled a response.

“That was the plan. Doesn’t mean every one of the shithead engineers followed it. Maybe they got lazy with the programming on every tenth mine they turned out. Maybe someone forgot to insert the discrimination programming altogether and just built the thing to go off if a bird landed on it.”

On the other side of the body, a soldier named Lisa saw their burden’s lips move.

“Hey, he’s conscious! He’s trying to say something.”

Williams strained to hear. She would have switched positions with the other woman, but it was more important to get the injured man to where a doctor could work on him than to listen to what he had to say.

From the depths of Wright’s throat two words emerged, barely intelligible.

“What...happened?”

Nobody answered as they approached the nearest operating table. Turning toward her burden, Lisa struggled with the body. Wright was dead weight, but not dead.

“On three! One, two, three—lift!”

All four of them had to work in unison to get the body onto the table. Stepping back, the fourth soldier regarded the limp figure as he wiped at his brow.

“Son of a bitch is heavy! No fat on this guy.”

Williams was about to comment when the door burst open and Kate Connor strode purposefully into the operating theater, tying the string of her surgical mask behind her head as she came toward them. Studying the injured man, she moved purposefully around to Williams’ end of the table. Her eyes were roaming over the body; examining, appraising.

“Okay, what’ve we got here?”

A distraught Williams explained.

“He stepped on a mine. My fault. I told him it wouldn’t go off.”

“Not your fault.” Barnes hastened to correct her. “Fault of the bastard who improperly programmed the device.”

Kate spoke to her assistant. “Start a large bore intravenous. Keep it open. Push twenty ccs morphine.” Her gaze flicked back to the anxiously watching Williams. “What’s his name?”

“Marcus,” Williams managed to mumble.

Kate had returned her attention to the patient.

“He’s lucky to still have a leg. Both of them, no less.” Turning to a waiting tray of instruments, she selected one and began cutting away the shreds of Wright’s left pants leg. “Marcus—Marcus. I need you to keep talking to me.”

Still stunned, Wright tried to follow what was happening around him.

Kate spoke calmly as she worked.

“Just keep listening to my voice. Do you hear me? Concentrate on what I’m saying. You don’t have to reply; just try to understand. Keep your mind working.”

It was impossible to tell if he had heard and understood because he did not reply.

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