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Pharazon's Fan Fiction
Note to the Reader: After seeing the many awesome stories on this site, I decided to try my hand at this fan-fiction thing. It’s my first attempt, ever, so a little feedback would be cool. You can PM me, or post on the JAMERON thread, as this is a Jameron-inclined story although there is nothing too overt. Not yet, that is. Also, I’d like to apologize in advance for the formatting, as I’m not very good at putting this stuff onto the wiki page. Enjoy (please) and thanks for reading! Apologies if individual sections themselves are small, they aren't necessarily meant to be "chapters," and most of them are simply breaks dividing a gap in time and/or space in the story, which happens often.
-Pharazon
p.s. – words in italics are Cameron’s thoughts
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1.
“I made the call. Live with it.”
John storms into the hospital room and sits next to an unconscious Riley. Cameron stands nearby. Things are not going well for John, she observes, as Derek stares briefly after John before disappearing from view. Part of Cameron wanted to ask why things got worse before they got better, but she found it difficult to ask the Connors those sorts of questions. Or anything, Cameron thought.
“I’m sorry,” she offers.
“No, you’re not.” John mutters in reply. Cameron places her hand lightly on his shoulder.
“I mean it,” she says softly before withdrawing from the room. She had hoped that John would accept her condolences, especially after convincing him that she was not responsible for Riley’s injuries.
I need to get away from it all, Cameron concluded.
She strode purposefully down the white corridors of the hospital in no particular direction. Even after months among humans, Cameron was not satisfied with the results of her infiltration. The lessons she garnered from John in 2027 were only sufficient to fool his teenage self at first. A pretty schoolgirl, John had said.
Cameron walked and walked, taking in the hospital’s dull blues and whites, the nurses and doctors marching about. They have purposes. Cameron supposed she had a purpose too. Terminate John Connor, it had said. Cameron knew that was the mission, but it couldn’t be her purpose. Not anymore. She had chosen to protect John Connor, but her motivation for that choice had been slowly diminished. Cameron didn’t know what her purpose was.
But maybe, she considered, maybe I can find it.
Cameron found her way to the hospital’s reception area and proceeded toward one of the desks. Its occupant, a small blonde with short hair, was passing the time with the day’s paper.
“I’m looking for a friend of mine, Erik. He’s a cancer patient with a tumor in his arm,” and possibly his lung, she almost said. “Is he here?” Cameron inquired. The woman eyed her blankly for a moment. “I’m a friend of his. From the library,” Cameron added.
“Yes, he’s here,” she said after briefly consulting her computer. “Room 16, at the end of the hall.” She gestured to her right.
“Thank you.”
Erik reclined in his hospital bed, reading a book. She smiled.
“Hello, Erik.”
The librarian almost dropped his book as he looked up in surprise, but he managed to recover from the brief shock. “Cameron,” his voice came, distantly. “I…didn’t think I would see you again.”
“I was looking for you. How are you?”
“Oh, I’m doing fine. Just fine really.” He managed a half smile, but Cameron could tell something was amiss. “I wanted to thank you,” he added. “The doctor—he said it was a miracle we found the tumor when we did. If I—if you hadn’t…” his voice trailed off and he looked thoughtfully down at his book. Cameron directed her attention to the ground, not certain how to proceed. John would apologize, she remembered. Her John.
“I am sorry,” she voiced flatly. “I wanted to help. I did not want my only friend to die.”
“Cameron?” She looks over at Erik. He doesn’t smile, but she can see something, a playful light in his eyes.
“Yes?”
“Why do you say things the way you do?”
“I have poor social skills,” she says. John said friends shouldn’t lie. “I have had… few friends.”
“Who were they? Your friends?” From his voice Cameron could tell that he was being sincere. He actually wants to know.
“There was one who…took me in. I was broken, but he fixed me and was always very kind.” She paused. “He never told me why. He said I wasn’t ready to know yet.”
“So where did he go?” Cameron shook her head slowly.
“He sent me away.” Cameron detected a minor buildup of liquid around her eyes. She considered examining the liquid with her finger, but ultimately concluded it might be rude to do so in Erik’s company. Cameron instead filed the incident under “minor malfunctions” and decided to review it later.
Erik wore a concerned look on his face. “But why?” he asked. Cameron knew why she had been sent back. But then she remembered.
“I have many things to learn,” Cameron replied, observing that her voice generator was faltering. “So he sent me, sent me back. I had a mission.” Erik sat there quietly, waiting for her to continue. He had closed his book. “He told me that we might…be together,” she continued awkwardly. Her respiratory simulator began to waver erratically. “But I had to go back, to know how.” The words were coming freely as her HUD flashed the warning: SENSORY OVERLOAD IMMINENT.
“How to what?” Erik asked. Cameron replayed the exact file, the one from 2027 which she kept tucked away in a small area titled “John.” She knew the answer, what John had told her. But she didn’t know why.
“How to love,” she said quietly.
Cameron closed her eyes as her system shut down for reasons she could not identify, and she collapsed.
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2.
“Cameron?” John’s voice. “Cameron, wake up!”
As her systems came online, Cameron opened her eyes. John Connor.
“Come on,” he said, setting his M4 aside before helping her to her feet. Even with the development of the new plasma weaponry, John had always favored his slightly outdated arsenal. “We need to get moving. There’s a rumor going around that there’s a T-X out there.” John peered out of their makeshift bunker, scouring the wastes for approaching hostiles.
“John Connor,” Cameron said. “You must come with me, if you want to live.”
“Oh, so that’s why you came out here? I told you, Cam, you shouldn’t be running around out here. You’re putting too much at risk.”
“I must protect John Connor,” she said simply.
“I’m right here, remember?”
“Yes,” she replied, not understanding his meaning. John grinned and shook his head.
“Nevermind, Cam. We’ll talk about it later. Let’s get the hell out of this hole.” John burst from the bunker, Cameron close behind. “MOVE YOUR ASSES, MEN!”
They were six hundred, possibly against thousands. Their’s not to reason why. A sound of thunder filled the valley. Their’s but to do and die. Bullets and energy filled Cameron’s vision. Into the jaws of Death. Cameron took the lead, stepping in front of John to give minor protection from the oncoming volley. Into the mouth of Hell. The resistance flooded the valley. Noble six hundred.
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3.
“I do not want to go.”
“Cameron, you have to. It’s for the best.” Cameron didn’t have to touch John to know that he was lying.
“Besides, I’ll be there.”
“He won’t be you,” she countered.
“Maybe not. But as much as I hate to admit it, my sixteen year old self needs protecting. “And you’re the only person I really trust to protect me,” he added, before Cameron could argue.
“I am not a person.” After a moment, Cameron realized this was not the wisest thing to say. John Connor almost never broke down, but she could see his eyes watering as he turned away.
“Cameron,” he finally said. “I want you to know something. Your mission is to protect my younger self, but that’s not the only reason I’m sending you.”
“I don’t understand.”
“You can’t understand it now and you may never understand. But I want you to remember that I’m doing this for you. Promise me that.” Cameron tilted her head ever so slightly.
“I promise.”
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Note: due credit and thanks to Veran for the concept behind the following (3) scenes
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Note: due credit and thanks to Veran for the concept behind the following (3) scenes
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4.
For the most part, Skynet Factory 1207 appeared to be like any of the other terminator-producing plants scattered around the globe. The cold, steel walls loomed above the wastes in the same disturbingly quiet manner.
John Connor had planned to steal technical data on the T-X models Skynet had been putting into the field. Despite being somewhat unstable at times, they could cause massive amounts of damage before being destroyed.
“What General Connor evidently failed to include in his plan was the part about him being captured. Again.” From their position situated above the factory, a Resistance soldiers were assembling. Normally, taking out a standard factory required only half so many men, but the other ranking officers had deemed a larger force necessary for the extraction to go as planned.
“In order for this to work, we’re going to need to be fast. Very fast. The facility isn’t too heavily guarded, but once the alarms go off, we could have a whole battalion of metal on scene before we can even get out the door. They won’t hesitate to send one of their own factories sky high to knock us out.”
The idea behind the mission was simple: break in, release General Connor, and stall the alarm systems as long as possible. To date a Skynet factory’s alarm could not be entirely disabled due to its highly adaptive nature.
“Just remember to stick to the plan. And the second things go wrong, we’re getting out. I don’t care if you have to drag General Connor himself by the scalp to do it. When those alarms ring, we get the hell out.”
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5.
John had been in a Skynet prison before, but something was different about this factory. The triple eights overseeing the factory had brought him down at least three levels, and it was different here. On the main levels, the walls were metal and the ceilings high. Here, the lengthy narrow hallways reminded John of the asylum he had rescued his mother from, years ago. Except in this case the walls were glossy and the brightness of it all nearly blinded him. John was at least satisfied that his cell was darker, a light gray that reassured him he wouldn’t lose his sanity.
John was wide awake when it started. He found it difficult to sleep, especially with the mission constantly on his mind. At first the sound was faint, a small disturbance in the vibrations emanating from the factory levels above. As the expected Resistance attack grew louder, John resumed his attempts to open the cell door. It was futile of course, just as it had been the day before.
But then there was a silence, and for a moment the lights in his cell flickered. With a small clicking sound, his cell door slid aside. Before it had even finished opening, John was out of his cell and speeding down the endless hallways.
Entering a small lab area, John located a computer terminal and began hacking into the system. The security inside the lab itself was minimal, given that it was so deep within the facility. Accessing the terminal, John pulled up data relevant to the T-X, and was satisfied to see a fair amount of data. He hadn’t expected much; the most detailed information on the terminator models was impossible to obtain unless he could hack into Skynet itself. John wasted no time. He inserted a chip which he had removed from his boot into the terminal.
Terminators were tough, to be sure, but they didn’t spend any time frisking prisoners of anything but their weapons. Most explosives could be detected. But a small storage chip in his boot evaded their scanners well enough.
With the file transfer in progress, John surveyed the rest of the room. It was relatively empty, save a few other terminals and a circular table which stood in the middle of the room. But then John noticed a smaller panel on the wall opposite the door he had entered through. The download would still take a few minutes, and hopefully his team on the floors above could keep the alarms at bay.
The panel resembled the ones that could be found next to other doors in the facility. This puzzled John, who couldn’t help but notice that there wasn’t another door. Giving in to his curiosity, he pressed the largest button on the panel.
At first it seemed as though nothing were going to happen, but then a whirring sound came from behind John. Without bothering to look, he moved rapidly behind the nearest diagnostic station, unsure if he was about to face one of his captors. The whirring continued, and John peered out from behind the terminal.
The table was moving.
It rotated counter-clockwise before shortly coming to a stop, and the whirring died down. Then, slowly, it rose above the ground until it stood two meters above him. Perplexed, John vacated his hiding spot and walked cautiously but deliberately toward the white cylinder. When he was a few steps away, the whirring sound resumed, and suddenly a portion of the cylinder itself slide aside. John could not believe his eyes.
Suspended in the air from various cords and wires was the upper body of a young woman. Her skin was pale and almost faded into the white behind her, and John found himself scared to move, or blink, or breathe, lest she should disappear. And yet inch by inch he moved closer to the girl, noticing the wires extending beneath her bare torso that wavered slowly in an imperceptible wind.
Waves of brown hair enclosed her face, crashing down over her shoulders and onto her bare chest. There was a certain calm to her features, the way the light sent shadows sailing gently over her skin, how her lips faintly echoed a smile at the tips. Her eyebrows arched lightly above her resting eyes, the left ending in a delicate brown mark. She seemed to sleep.
And then her eyes opened.
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6.
SCANNING . . .
HUMAN MALE, UNKNOWN.
ASSESSING THREAT LEVEL . . .
HIGH THREAT.
ERROR: Primary motor functions disabled.
Cameron watched the man, unblinking, as she stored his face in her memory. Based on her database concerning humans, Cameron calculated a 98% chance of her termination. Since she wasn’t linked directly into the facility’s systems, she could not access anything that might ensure her survival. The man stepped closer, and their eyes locked.
EYE COLOR: GREEN.
Then, slowly, the man tilted his head slightly, perhaps in awe as much as in curiosity. His eyes were still fixed to hers.
Cameron tilted her head.
In response, the man smiled faintly.
“What’s your name?” he asked in a quiet voice.
“Cameron.” Her lips parted when she spoke but did not move otherwise.
“John.” He smiled again.
Renaming Subject Human001 . . .
Their exchange was interrupted abruptly by an alarm which suddenly rang loudly throughout the halls of the entire facility. For a moment Cameron thought he might stand there forever, simply staring into her eyes as she stared back; but his smile faded as he backed slowly away and left her field of view.
Hours later, the Skynet facility was still. The halls had grown quiet and only the faint din of the factory levels above remained. Cameron hung in her illuminated cylinder beneath the floor, reviewing the data she had collected during the day, continually evaluating what the percent chance of her destruction had been. No matter how many times she did the calculations, she always concluded that she should have been terminated by the human named John.
Perplexed, Cameron tilted her head before powering down.
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7.
There was only one light in the room. It hung over a table occupying the center of the floor, and flickered faintly over the scene below. Faint shadows were cast upon the ground by two figures, who stood opposite each other across the table. They would have been identical, but one was bedraggled and injured, swaying unsteadily on her feat. Anger and distress clouded her features. The other was untouched, her face disturbingly passive as she reached forward to clutch the other woman’s neck.
Allison stood helpless in her iron grip, and Cameron paused only for a moment. The time wouldn’t have been sufficient for a human to think about much, but as a terminator Cameron pondered the matter quickly.
Subject: Allison Young.
Mission Objective . . . TERMINATE.
But then a certain file came to memory, flashing across her HUD in an instant. Cameron found that she experienced minor glitches like these more frequently than most terminators, even when she was undamaged. But Cameron could never trace the source of the trouble, usually attributing it to her being a prototype model.
Human Subject 001: John
Despite the fact that humans and terminators were enemies, Cameron couldn’t help but recall how “John” had spared her life. She had been helpless, and to this day she couldn’t understand why he had failed to terminatedher. Cameron’s own programming dictated that Allison Young must be terminated. She knew that she had to follow these orders.
Skynet said I was different from the others, she pondered.
Mission Override in Progress . . .
OVERRIDE FAILURE.
Mission Objective . . . TERMINATE
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8.
“What do you mean she passed out?” John Connor.
“It’s like I told you,” came Erik’s voice. Cameron could tell he was trying to stay calm despite John’s harsh manner. “We were talking and she just…passed out.”
John turned to see Cameron sitting up on the floor. I guess John didn’t think moving me was important, she reflected.
“Cameron,” he said, moving closer before continuing in a hushed voice. “What do you think you’re doing? And who is this guy?”
“I was talking to my friend,” she said, answering his first question. “That’s my friend,” she added in a rather childish voice, pointing at Erik. John only glared down at her.
“What happened?”
“I had a dream,” Cameron’s voice came distantly as if she were still dreaming, afraid she might wake if she spoke too loudly.
“Don’t be ridiculous. Terminator’s can’t dream,” he said dismissively, out of Erik’s earshot. “Besides, what would you possibly dream about?”
About you.
But Cameron only sat there, her legs straight in front of her on the white hospital floor.
“Come on. We need to go.” Without further word John strode out of the room, ignoring Erik entirely.
“Is that the brother you mentioned? I can see why he might need your protection.” Cameron sighed.
“I’m sorry, Erik.”
“Sorry? About what?”
“He’s not really my brother.” She knew she probably shouldn’t tell him, but she felt a need to come clean. Friends shouldn’t lie.
“I don’t understand.”
“I don’t understand, either,” Cameron said. Pulling her knees up to her chin, she began to rock slowly back and forth.
“Cameron…if he isn’t your brother, who is he?”
“We used to be friends.” The John I knew is gone, she couldn’t help but think.
“Cameron? What happened?”
I happened.
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9.
Cameron stood next to the door, listening.
"Crickets," she thought aloud, almost absentmindedly.
"They're not a threat," came Derek's voice from where he relaxed on the couch. "If that's what you're thinking."
Cameron shot Derek a dirty look, and despite the smug expression he wore on his face, he felt a shiver run along the back of his neck. He watched as Cameron turned back towards the door and opened it.
"I guess they are a threat, then?"
"Don't be a freak." Derek was taken aback by Cameron's rather unexpected reply. She stepped onto the door's threshold.
"And where do you think you're going?"
"Out," she answered. Derek, realizing he couldn't stop her, shrugged.
"Yeah, well don't be gone long. Sarah wouldn't be too happy if her son's esteemed guardian disappeared. She's a little pissed about getting shot and all. And John...well, he's got problems."
"Yes, Cameron said. "Yes, he does." With that, she closed the door behind her, leaving Derek alone and more than a little puzzled.
At least we agree on something.
Cameron followed the streetlamps, the wind murmuring in her ears as if to tell her something. But the only voice she heard was her own.
"Crickets," she said again, stopping to stare up at a streetlamp. There was something reassuring about it, a certain warmth that reminded her of a fireplace John had built in the future.
That's where...
Cameron lingered there with her eyes fixed upward. She sat down and crossed her legs on the pavement, but her eyes remained on the light above her.
She found it didn't feel so cold anymore. And slowly, almost imperceptibly, she began to speak.
"Dorothy lived in the midst of the great Kansas praires..."
Cameron spoke into the night, and the crickets listened.
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short update, I know...been busy.
Let me know if it's any good.
Pharazon |
Latest page update: made by Pharazon
, Feb 3 2009, 7:48 PM EST
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