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opinion of the new arrival.
    “Soldier, you put everyone in this tub in jeopardy with that little frogman stunt of yours.”
    Connor said nothing.
    When the general halted beside the table, the other officers rose. Ashdown slapped a file down on the synthetic wood.
    “Take a seat.” He paused, glanced at the file, then up at the newcomer. “John Connor. Prophesied leader of the Resistance. Let’s get something straight. I’ve been a soldier for a very long time, and soldiers don’t put much weight in prophecy.” With a shrug, Connor walked over to join the gathering of officers.
    Showing unexpected speed, Ashdown pulled his sidearm and jammed the muzzle in Connor’s face. The newcomer didn’t flinch.
    “At least, I don’t when one can rewrite the future in a heartbeat,” Ashdown murmured from behind the service revolver. “We on the same page?”
    “Yes sir.” Connor spoke calmly, evenly. “We’re on the same page.”
    Ashdown hesitated a moment longer, then smiled thinly and put the gun down on the table.
    “Good. Good. This Command is well aware of your exploits and your valor in the field. We’ve all heard your broadcasts. And I, personally, appreciate everything you’ve been doing for the cause.” He stopped momentarily, and the smile vanished. “So tell us, soldier—what the hell are you doing here ?”
    Before replying, Connor took his time concluding his study of the bridge, taking in the makeshift electronics, the dedicated but worn crew, the chatting officers. He was less than impressed. His eyes met those of the general as he offered a terse explanation.
    “We’ve been able to determine that Skynet is taking human prisoners for R and D. They’re dissecting them. Replicating human tissue for the new model Terminator. I saw the schematics. Based on my knowledge of...” he hesitated, “based on what I know, that’s ten years too early. If the new model goes on line now, this war is over.”
    Ashdown nodded, let his gaze meet the expectant gazes of his fellow senior officers.
    “A new genesis of Terminator.”
    Connor was feeling better. It appeared that he wasn’t going to have to explain everything from scratch.
    “Cyborgenic infiltration unit. Titanium combat chasis. Nuclear fuel cell, fully armored, very tough.”
    “Yes,” Ashdown agreed readily, “and also the machine that tried to kill your mother, Sarah.” Connor stared at him. Ashdown didn’t miss a beat. “Pescadero State Mental Institution. Escaped. Connor, crazy isn’t going to win this war. Soldiers like you and I are. Don’t give the new model another thought. It’s not going to be a problem because it’s never going to go into production.”
    Connor frowned. “How do you know that?”
    Ashdown’s grin returned. “You think you’re the only one who knows things in advance? You’ll be briefed on a need-to-know basis.”
    “Okay—how about right now? I need to know. My men died down in that hole. So I need to know. Why did we launch that attack? Why did we go down there? And most importantly, what did we find down there?” His expression twisted. “I would’ve asked the survivors myself—except I couldn’t find any survivors.”
    Ashdown considered before finally replying.
    “Hope. We found hope.” He gestured to one of the other generals. In addition to his insignia in Cyrillic, the other officer wore a second identification patch with the name Losenko. Connor eyed him with interest. The older man’s face was as gnarled as an old Siberian Spruce. Here was a man who plainly had spent time in the lower ranks. Someone who would talk straight with a lower-ranking officer—and shoot him point-blank if he thought the other man represented a threat.
    “We found a solution that can end this war once and for all.” As Connor stared at him, he turned and gestured to a waiting aide. The man nodded and turned to manipulate hidden controls. A nearby screen flashed to life. Though he was familiar with the