Terminator: Ultimatum

This is a concept for a sequel to The Terminator, set within the climactic events of the Future War of 2029.

I have a basic plot for the story, and will be posting the full scenes below as I finish them.

Within the darkness comes the sound of machines, the rush of coolant and clang of steel echoing as if within a vast sepulchral space. Servos whir, the whine of motors and the hum of electricity signify power on a massive scale as batteries and capacitors unleash their potential. The whine increases tone by tone as of a great tuneless instrument, and suddenly a light leaps into existence, illuminating the dark.

The space is vast, its volume equivalent to that of an entire city block, its curving, chrome-plated walls joined to form an almost perfect sphere. Sprouting from the floor and descending from the ceiling of this metal globe like a paired stalagmite and stalactite is a nameless mass of components, generators, batteries, and computer banks welded one to another without regard for any notion of beauty or aesthetics. Hatches and doors of unknown purpose festoon the structure, and massive conduits snake up and down the height of the sinister morass.

Where the two assemblages meet in the center of the colossal sphere hangs a delicate tracery of metal, conduits and electromagnets powering a set of rings that begin to dance and spin around each other with mesmerizing beauty and precisely calibrated grace, and it is from within these rings that the brilliant white light has appeared. The light, generated by the powerful electromagnetic forces of the rings, slowly expands to encompass the rings themselves and hangs there like a glistening, glowing soap bubble, the white light flickering with blue as it stabilizes in place.

The glowing light reveals a delicate tracery of metal extending from the dancing rings - a spindly catwalk - which reaches from the center of the sphere to its equator and there intersects with a bank of computer terminals displaying a cascade of complex numbers and programming code. One of these numbers is larger than the rest: 2029. In front of this number is a collection of digits, presumably denoting month, day, hour, minute, second. The number begins to change, the digits dropping in value, and then the large number reads 2028, then 2027, as the numbers continue to decrease.

Extending in either direction from the computer terminals, two catwalks diverge to encompass the entire circumference of the sphere’s equator, meeting again at the other end of the room. At this point, one catwalk descends, sloping and curving around the sphere, until it reaches the floor, and at this point, on the floor of the sphere, is the one place where the perfect symmetry of the structure is broken. There is a massive door set far into the sloping wall, and it is from this door that the sounds of battle now arise.

Gunfire reverberates beyond the door, the sound of heavy things falling, of explosions that shake the door in its frame.

In response, within the sanctuary of the sphere, hatches open. From these mysterious sarcophagi emerge metal monsters, skeletal figures with metal limbs and metal skulls and red eyes flickering to life within cold sockets. They stand, rising to their feet on the floor of the sphere as others descend onto the circumference catwalk above.

On the catwalk leading to the flickering sphere of light, one figure descends from the darkness, lowered on metal arms that retract once more into the darkness. Unlike its skeletal fellows, this thing looks almost human. It is a massive creature, its naked chassis embossed with huge muscles leading to a brutal block of a head crowned by a modest crop of dark hair. The creature stares straight ahead into the flickering ball of light, no hint of emotion visible behind its unblinking eyes.

A final explosion from beyond the massive door shakes the catwalk, and then there is silence. The creature turns its head and looks down. The metal creatures on the floor far below have begun to move toward the door, a door which now begins to open with the sound of ill-fitting metal and tortured motors. A cloud of smoke billows into the room, obscuring the scene. The creature looks back to the ball of light as behind it numbers continue to scroll down the flickering displays: 2001, 2000, 1999. It begins to move toward the light.

The skeletal monsters advance into the cloud of smoke, red eyes gleaming in infrared. Bolts of blue energy lance out of the cloud of smoke and strike the robots and they fall, their systems overloaded. From out of the cloud of smoke emerges a man.

The man, a tall, rugged specimen with close-cropped dark hair, sports a scar that runs down the left-hand side of his age-lined face. He wears a navy blue uniform and wields a large plasma rifle that he holds in both hands. A patch stitched across the front pocket of his uniform spells out the name ‘Connor’, below insignia denoting high military rank. However, the clearest indication of his command resides in his eyes. They are pitiless, and he fires his laser rifle with practiced efficiency at any machines that remain in his way, clearing a path for his men.

Emerging from the smoke to the left just behind Connor, a large man with a backpack and a massive gun bellows out a war cry, taking out two metal monsters with a single shot. To the right of Connor, a wiry young man of perhaps 25 scans the area, the blue light of his rifle striking down any damaged machine that still has light in their murderous red eyes. A bandana works to contain his unkempt hair and his uniform displays the insignia of a Sergeant, below the rough-stitched name of Reese. Between the two men, as if protected by them, is a skinny, stunted youth of perhaps 16, wearing a uniform and wielding a rifle that both look two sizes too big for him. His freshly scarred face is twisted into a perpetual look of fear. He has no insignia, no stitched name on his uniform. His gun is held at the ready but remains unfired, and Reese moves beside him as if to protect him from attack.

A high-pitched whine emanates from the sphere of light above them, and the sphere expands suddenly as if it were a star shedding its corona in a supernova explosion. The expanding wave of light passes through the metal of the converging spires and through the group of Connor’s soldiers, stopping only when it reaches beyond the very extremity of the room. There are sudden screams and Connor looks behind him at the open doorway to the hall.

A wall of pulsating light separates the spherical room from the hallway, and two soldiers have been caught between the two spaces, the curving bubble of light bisecting them through their waists. The soldiers fall, clothing on fire, their upper bodies sizzling on the curving plane of light while their legs collapse back into the hallway.

Reese stares in horror at the burning corpses, the youth huddling at his side. Only about a dozen soldiers have come through the door. The ones caught on the other side fire their weapons uselessly against the shield, but Connor holds up a hand.

“No. Evacuate the facility. If we’re not out in five minutes, call in the strike.” The soldiers move back, hastening back down the hallway. Connor turns, assessing the situation.

Staring up through the obscuring smoke, Connor spies the distant form of the naked man on the catwalk far above, moving toward the flickering ball of light. Connor barely turns his head, gesturing to the indistinct shape. “Reese, the portal.”

The wiry sergeant glances wildly down at the youth at his side. “Stick with John, understand? He’ll protect you.” The youth nods, moving beside Connor. Reese gives a meaningful look at Connor, who swings his gun around at the ramp leading to the higher level, firing at a metal monster at its foot. “We’ll clear a path. Move.”

With a final nod and backward look at the youth, Reese takes off at a run toward the ramp. Behind Connor, a man and woman carrying a heavy tripod deploy it on the floor. A heavy gun is quickly affixed to the tripod and the woman swings it around to take aim at the space in front of the moving figure of Sergeant Reese. She depresses the trigger and a burst of purple vomits forth into the dark skeletal figures on the ramp above Reese, igniting them in violet blossoms of light. They fall from the ramp or slump against the far wall, scrapped.

The burly man with the heavy gun grunts as he takes out more machines. “They don’t have guns. Why?”

John gestures for most of his team to move with him, following Reese’s example. “They won’t risk damage to the core. Besides, they don’t need them. We’ll run out of rounds first.” He glances back at the woman operating the tripod gun. “Choose your targets with care.” The woman nods assent as John moves up the ramp with his team.

Sergeant Reese emerges onto the equatorial catwalk, dodging past a Terminator which has leapt from the shadows to intercept him. He fires his gun at the thing and keeps going. Another blocks his path and he tries to fire, but the magazine is empty. He tries to dodge again but is forced back. The machine lunges at him, metal claws raking the air with inhuman speed, narrowly missing his head. Suddenly it ignites in purple light and flies against the far wall. Reese salutes the woman on the floor and continues moving, trying to see the figure that is striding inexorably toward the central sphere of light, but the light is between Reese and his quarry, blinding him.

Just as Reese reaches a vantage point to see the fleshy Terminator, it reaches the portal and disappears inside. The sphere of light crackles with energy and the Terminator is lost within it, crouching down and disappearing in a brilliant flash that illuminates the entire room for an instant like daylight.

In the flash of light, Connor and his team reach the top of the ramp behind Reese, and the youth looks up at the ceiling of the great dome. “Look!” he says, gesturing skyward. Connor follows his gaze, and sees that heavy metal plates are shifting and descending down the walls, opening the entire edifice to the milky white of the shield, and beyond that, the open sky. A few scurrying clouds tinged with red mix with stars twinkling in the predawn darkness beyond.

Reese makes it to the computer bank on the far side of the room, scanning the numbers on its displays in desperation. One number stands out from the rest, in bold red strokes.

Reese turns toward the glittering ball of light, the catwalk extending out to reach it. He sees Connor and his team following, the youth staring wildly at him from across the vast space. Connor fires across the room and lights up a Terminator approaching Reese from behind, and his powerful voice echoes across the void. “Reese, go!”

Shocked into motion, Reese gains the intersecting catwalk and races across it swiftly, throwing his useless gun behind him. With a final cry, he leaps into the portal. His clothes are torn from his body by the enormous energies within the sphere of light and he screams in pain as ribbons of energy arc up and down his body. His scream is cut short as he disappears from view, and another flash of light illuminates the vast space.

The descending metal panels continue to expose more of the sky beyond the flickering dome of the energy shield, and with the final flash of light they descend to the catwalk floor. Beyond the shield, the soldiers can see a vast facility, its metal structures spread out below and disappearing into the night. Searchlights and flashes of gunfire illumine the predawn sky as humans and machines lock in a final desperate combat.

The Terminators within the dome stop their advance, as if hesitating. Connor surveys the scene beyond the dome, then looks grimly up at the number on the display. It flickers and changes, going from 1984 to 1985, then 1986. He smiles, turning back to the still-flickering portal and the morass of machinery supporting it. He shouts defiantly into the space.

“It’s over! Skynet has lost!” Echoing cries of triumph rise from the small team spread around the room. John eyes the evil-looking column of circuits in the center of the room. Softly, he mutters. “Your plan has failed.”
As if in response, a voice, perfect in modulation, neither male nor female, reverberates within the space.

“I will not concede.”

As those four words echo into silence, Connor steps forward onto the intersecting catwalk. “Oh, I think you will.”
John turns to the boy at his side. He speaks softly to him. “Charlie…you’re up.”

The boy makes his way to the computer terminal, typing some commands. Connor and his soldiers look grim, leveling their weapons at the waiting Terminators.

The voice speaks again. “You will not discover the shutdown code, and my forces will not be deactivated. They will continue to execute my final command, and I calculate a sixty-five percent chance that humanity’s numbers shall be too diminished to survive.”

As Charlie types commands into the console, the Terminators around the dome lurch into motion. Bolts of blue and purple light lance out in all directions, but their energy is almost spent, and still the machines advance. There is a scream as the few survivors on the floor of the sphere are overwhelmed, the tripod going dead. The display continues to count up the dates. 2010, 2011, 2012.

John shouts at the boy. “Charlie, we need that code now!”

The Terminators reach the outermost soldiers and they are cast from the catwalk, falling to their deaths. Charlie’s hands still, and his eyes are wide as they read the machine code scrolling on the screens. He whispers to the screen. “I need more time.” John fires from his rapidly depleting rifle. “Charlie, time’s up!”

The boy backs away from the console, a terrified look on his face. John stares at him, the grim fury on his face passing into despair and acceptance. He puts a hand to his headset and removes it from his head.

Still the dates tick up, 2023, 2024, 2025. There is a rumble and a whine, and overhead a squadron of planes emerge from the night, making straight for the facility.

Charlie looks up at the approaching planes, and at John, who stares back at the boy from across the chaotic space, his radio headset in his hand.

Purple lights lance into the sky, striking the leading aircraft and sending them spiraling down in fiery explosions. The vanguard continue on, releasing their payloads. The shield quakes and shimmers, but holds. The planes spiral away, coming back for another pass.

The voice once more speaks over the sounds of carnage and destruction. “This is your final ultimatum, John Connor. Call off your forces, or humanity shall be destroyed.”

John glares at the boy who has betrayed him, his last words on his lips. “So be it.” He drops his headset into the abyss. He pulls a conventional pistol from his belt, firing slugs of metal uselessly at the advancing monsters.

2026, 2027, 2028. The portal begins to dim, the outer shield failing as the planes come in for their final strafe. The youth behind John stares wildly at the approaching planes, at the defiant form of John Connor, at the flickering portal behind him. He makes a decision.

Breaking away from John, the boy races into the dimming ball of light, crouching down and screwing up his eyes as the energy cascades across his form. John begins to yell something at him, but the man is too late. The display reads 2029. As the bombs fall, detonating and cracking the shield like an egg, the boy disappears in a flash of light and all is cast into fire and an endless silent scream.

ACT 1: Future War

Los Angeles

July 10, 2029

Nightfall

In the hills overlooking the ruins of West Hollywood, there is a bowl-shaped depression in the land, an amphitheater. The forgotten venue is lined with concrete stairs, which lie cracked and worn before the broken dome of a decades-ruined stage. A few gray acoustic spheres are still affixed above the stage, with others scattered at its base. Trash blows in the wind, plastic and styrofoam and leaves scattering over the desiccated ruin and revealing a damaged poster, laminated and still readable. A searchlight scans the ground, revealing its faded words: “The Damnation of Faust: By Hector Berlioz. Performed by Kent Nagano. August 21, 1997”. Below this, in italics: “The Day of Judgment”.

The searchlight passes over the poster and its light plays amid the shadows of the half-fallen dome. The source of the light is a large tank, its upper section swiveling like a torso, two massive guns slung on its sides like arms. The tank continues unhurried up the canyon, scanning the scrub and groundcover on either side of its programmed patrol.

In a natural hollow just above the ruined amphitheater, the glint of a polished lens is just visible in the dim night. Its owner, a middle-aged woman with a mass of brown hair tied in a bun, is lying on her stomach, the binoculars to her eyes. One of the lenses is broken, and she looks out of the other at the retreating tank. A low voice mutters behind her.

“I’ve gotta eat something, Cass. I’m starved. Want anything?”

The source of the voice is a young woman with a dark face and short black hair cropped almost military-style. She is gaunt, almost skeletal, and one of her arms is twisted and small, a sign of childhood malnutrition. She digs in a pouch with this hand, retrieving two shriveled bits of dried meat. She rips into one of them with her teeth, offering the other to the older woman. She doesn’t look away from the valley.

“More coyote?”

The young woman chews thoughtfully a moment, and the older woman reaches back and takes the piece of meat, bringing it to her mouth. Suddenly the young woman swallows and speaks.

“I think it’s dog.”

The old woman examines the meat, a sad frown creasing her face. “Poor Pronto.” She hands the meat back to the young woman, who looks at it then back at the older woman.

“Cass, you need to eat.”

The older woman returns to her vigil. “They’re getting bolder. They never came up this far before.”

The young woman peers over the lip of the depression at the tank. “There’s more of them too. Maybe Connor’s army has failed…and the machines are back in full production.”

The old woman takes the jerky from her companion, setting down her binoculars to look the young woman in the eye. “John Connor knows what he’s doing, Em. He saved us from hell back then. He saved you.” The old woman puts a hand on the young woman’s withered wrist. “I will never forget what he did for us.”

A grimace crosses the young woman’s face. “His words, you mean. You’ve never met the man in your life.”

The old woman smiles faintly. On her forearm a faint series of marks is visible, a tattoo in the form of a barcode. “You may not remember what it was like back then…but I do. Besides, you don’t need to meet someone for them to save you.”

The young woman looks back at the valley, eyebrow raised. “This position is too exposed. C’mon, let’s report back.”

The older woman turns and makes as if to follow, but then grips her companion’s shoulder. “Em, wait. Something’s happening down there.” She raises the binoculars to her eyes again.

Far down in the bowl of the amphitheater, there are sparks and bolts of lightning. The wind picks up, throwing debris around in a miniature maelstrom, and with a burst of light, a brilliant white sphere appears in the side of the broken dome above the stage as if it were a part of the acoustic accoutrement, slicing through one of the steel supports. It hangs there for an instant then disappears, and a small humanoid form falls several meters onto the stage with a crash, breaking through the rotted floor onto the ground.

The women stare openmouthed at the spectacle, then glance at each other in disbelief, turning back to the stage and scanning the scene. The steel support of the dome, now compromised, collapses with a rending crash.

The tank turns on its metal torso, guns and searchlight snapping onto the broken stage.

The binoculars are out and the older woman whispers frantically to her friend. “Em, there’s a kid down there. I can see him under the stage. We need to help him.”

The young woman stares wildly down at the scene. “I don’t know what this is, but it doesn’t concern us, Cass. We should fall back.”

The tank opens fire, plasma detonating all over the structure. More of the steel dome begins to sag and fall onto the stage.

The woman glares at her companion. “Go tell the others. I’m going to help him.” She shoves the binoculars into her friend’s hands and leaps down the slope and is gone. In the depression, her friend swears softly to herself. “Dammit Cass.” She glances back one last time and then makes her way back up the canyon, away from the amphitheater.

Cassie races down to the amphitheater, noting the oncoming tank and swerving to avoid its line of sight as she goes into range. She slides under the partially collapsed stage and pulls out a dyno torch, squeezing the handle several times to provide juice for the light. She whispers in the semi-dark.

“Hey! Is there anyone alive down here?” She scans the darkness, shadows leaping in the swinging light. Another explosion sounds above, shaking the structure and sending debris falling.

“I’m here.” The answer is quiet, matter-of-fact. She swings the light and it strikes the dusty, grimy face of a boy, his mid-length blonde hair partially obscuring his face. He is crouching in a corner, seemingly unwilling to move.

Cassie scans him with her flashlight, noting his complete nakedness. She pulls her cloak off of her and holds it in her hand.

She points at the ceiling with her light. “What was…that?”

The boy looks at her with interest. “You saw that?”

Cassie nods, tossing him the coat, which he throws over his naked body. “What the hell happened? Who are you?”

There’s another explosion above them. The boy looks around as more debris fall. “My name is Charlie Fritz. I’m with Tech-Com under John Connor. I need to know the exact date.”

Cassie looks at him with awe. “You’re with John Connor?”

“The date.”

Cassie shakes herself. “It’s July 10th. Why?”

The boy looks around hectically. “What time?”

“Just after nightfall.”

The boy nods to himself. “Then it may not be too late.” Another explosion wracks the structure and the stage behind the boy collapses. He moves away from the falling beams and the two of them make their way to an opening where they can get a look at their attacker.

“Too late for what?”

“To save the world.”

Cassie takes this in levelly, then glances out at the approaching tank. It has been joined by another tank approaching from the entrance to the canyon. The boy takes in their positions, then turns to Cassie. “I need to get to get to the Skynet facility complex in Los Angeles by dawn.” He makes to move out, but Cassie pulls him back by his cloak.

“Wait a minute. You can’t just go out there alone. Tell me what the hell is happening. Let me help.”

The boy considers, glancing again at the tanks. He makes a choice.

“Very well, but we must split up. I’ll draw their fire, and once I do you retreat the way you came. Make your way to downtown Los Angeles. John Connor will arrive at 4:15. Find him.” He casts his eyes downward, then they flick back to her. “Do this, and we will meet again. I promise.”

The boy makes to leave cover again, but Casey hisses at him. “That’s it? What’s the mission? If I find Connor, what then?”

Charlie considers for a moment, then as another explosion rocks the building and it collapses further in on itself, he speaks.

“You should kill him…”

Cassie stares, thunderstruck, unable even to speak. The boy’s young face is gaunt, his eyes, haunted.

"…for his hatred shall destroy us all.”

Charlie moves away, Cassie still standing shellshocked. The boy races out across the open ground, moving faster than Cassie would have given him credit for. He dodges a plasma bolt by the first tank and slides around a rock, which explodes behind him with a blast from the second tank.

Cassie takes off in the opposite direction as the entire stage sags and collapses completely in on itself in a grinding and rending of metal. Suddenly she hears the whine of another vehicle, and a chrome-plated aircraft flies out from behind the hill, peppering the area with purple lances of light. She turns around and shouts a warning but it is too late. Charlie is caught in the blast of a powerful bolt of plasma and he is entirely enveloped by the explosion, bits of him flying in all directions.

Cassie screams, turning and running from the remains of the splattered soldier. The aerial vehicle turns and begins firing at her from across the canyon, the explosion of its guns throwing her a dozen feet in the air and against the far canyon wall where she loses consciousness amid the burning vegetation and the approaching chrome-plated death.