Excerpt from the novel Infiltrator by S.M. Stirling

THE FORMER HOME OF MILES DYSON, CALIFORNIA: THE PRESENT
     Serena dumped the dirt out of her basket and stamped it down. This was almost the last of it; she needed to excavate only another foot or two down below the house. The California night was scarcely dark to her cyber-boosted eyes; the fog of light pollution made it as bright as day.
     Frowning, she looked around her; it might be best to get rid of the excess dirt in raised flower beds, otherwise she’d end up with a suspicious-looking mound in the middle of the yard. She looked down at the filled-in swimming pool. It had been only seven feet deep at one end, four feet at the other—not deep enough.
     Serena was a carefully calculated five-six, average height for a woman. But the T-101s she planned to construct would all be six feet tall. So, while she was quite comfortable standing in what would be her secret laboratory, the depth of the place must accommodate them.
     With a sigh, she picked up her basket. I wish I had some T-101s now to help me with this. It was heavy work.
     Stage one had been the easiest, hiring a contractor to put up a ten-foot privacy fence around the property. Necessary since she didn’t want the neighbors, or any agents of Tricker’s, wondering why she was pouring dirt into the pool or, more important, where it was coming from. She regretted having to drain the pool; a nice swim after work like this would have been pleasant.
     Gazing at the tiled area surrounding the oblong of raw dirt, she decided it looked odd. Maybe I should cover this part with concrete and make a tennis court. It will certainly improve the resale value. A slight smile quirked at her lips. This could be dangerous; I’m starting to think like a human.
     Actually she had little real fear of that happening; it was like running a subroutine, easily terminable. But such thoughts improved her ability to pass. She’d always been good at that. She remembered…

SKYNET LABS, HOLDING CELLS: 2025
     Serena stepped delicately, like a frightened deer, into the cell. There was a boy here of approximately thirteen, her own apparent age. This would be the first time she’d met a wild human face-to-face.
     She supposed the caretakers and slaves were the same breed, but service to Skynet had tamed them, made them safe. This boy might do anything. Her assignment was to seduce him. Serena licked her lips with a combination of anticipation and slight nervousness. This could be quite a challenge.
     The cell appeared to be deserted. Serena leaned forward, studying the empty walls. Actually she could hear him; he was just above her head, clinging to a beam inside the doorway. So he was clever, a survivor—good genetic stock.
     Well? What are you going to do? Serena wondered, already bored with her shy act. It seemed she would have to provoke a response. “Hello?” she said, putting a quaver into her voice.
     She took a breath and straightened up. Then she took a step backward, reaching behind her for the door latch. She heard cloth slide across metal above her head.
     Well, finally!
     He dropped onto her shoulders and bore her to the ground, his hand crushing her mouth. Serena struggled, making muffled squealing noises as she writhed against him. This was unpleasant; the damned human smelled. He was strong, she noted, but light; the I-950 could have tossed him around the room with one hand.
     “Stop it!” he hissed into her ear. “I’m going to take my hand away. Don’t scream or I’ll break your neck.”
     With a shudder that was actually suppressed laughter, Serena nodded. He slowly took his hand away.
     Part of the offensive smell was his fear—completely justified since his life span could be measured in days. This boy wouldn’t know anything of use to Skynet. His only utility was as a training tool for its children.
     She was the first to approach him. “Who are you?” she whispered.
     “I’ll ask the questions,” he said roughly.
     He still lay on top of her, and unless she missed her guess he was enjoying it. She turned slightly, so that they were lying front to front. Oh yes, he was enjoying this.
     “Please don’t hurt me,” she pleaded, allowing tears into her eyes.
     He seemed to grow, he certainly swelled, as he looked down on her. “Who are you?” he demanded gruffly. “What are you doing here?”
     It was impressive that he could stay focused on the situation at hand, despite his condition and his circumstances.
     “I—I was curious,” she stammered, in apparent fear. “I’ve never met anyone from the outside.” She paused, looking into his face, searching it. “What’s it like to be free?”
     He frowned. “What do you mean?”
     “I’ve never been outside,” she said, trembling. The trembling felt fake to her, so she added a little gasp.
     “Never?” he asked, his voice tinged with disbelief.
     “I was born here,” she whispered. Serena choked back a sob. “This is a terrible place. They perform experiments on us.”
     Which was perfectly true. Her whole life was an experiment.
     His face changed; his eyes softened and he caressed her cheek with one rough hand. “I’m sorry,” he said.
     She burst into tears and he moved so that he was cradling her, rocking her and making soothing noises. It was very pleasant. Serena was convinced that if she really had been weeping, this would have calmed her. She reached up and caressed his face, looking into his eyes.
     He lowered his head toward her tentatively, then stopped. Serena put her hand behind his neck and pulled him the rest of the way down. Their kiss was sweet at first, a kiss between two children. Then slowly it deepened, grew warmer, more passionate. His hand stroked her back, the rhythm becoming swifter, more demanding, like his kiss.
     She made the first move, slipping out of the flimsy tunic that was all she wore. He stared at her physical perfection for a moment as though stunned. Then she leaned forward and began to help him undress, exclaiming wordlessly over small scars on his body, kissing them when she found them.
     She lost her nominal virginity to that boy, then broke his neck at Skynet’s orders. A very pleasant interlude, altogether.

FORMER DYSON HOME: THE PRESENT
     Serena smiled reminiscently; yes, she’d always been good at getting humans to trust her. Picking up the two baskets, she headed back to her digging.
     She had cut through the concrete floor of a guest room to begin removing the dirt beneath. Today she would finish the digging and pour the cement into the holes for the support poles. As soon as that was dry she would put in a moisture barrier, a cement floor, and concrete blocks and steel posts to support the walls.
     Next would be the installation of a sophisticated climate control and air purification system; the parts were already waiting in the guest room. Then she could bring in the rest of the equipment and begin using her lab.
     In the meantime she’d been jobbing out the parts needed to construct the skeletons of her T-101s, using over a dozen different specialty foundries throughout the United States; their product came to several different post office boxes, none of them closer than two towns away. So far their work had been excellent.
     When time allowed, she’d check into using foreign manufacturers for maximum privacy. She imagined that many precision metalworkers knew each other; it wouldn’t do if several accidentally discovered that they were manufacturing different parts that looked suspiciously right alongside each other and started to put them together.
     But her real concern was that the Connors would learn of her work.
     Serena thought about Skynet’s enemies as she filled another basket with dirt. The Connors had very effectively disappeared after destroying Cyberdyne’s old facility. Sightings of them had been reported for a few months afterward, but none had panned out. To all intents and purposes, the pair had ceased to exist.
     Wouldn’t that be nice? Serena thought, jabbing the shovel into the hard-packed earth. Nice but unlikely.
     She’d posted a lookout for their names on the Internet; should anyone start discussing them or look for information on them, she would be alerted. She had also tagged their files at the FBI and CIA. Anyone looking for information there was more likely to lead her to her quarry.
     Hoisting the filled baskets onto her shoulders, she tried to close her mind to the knowledge that Skynet’s minions had come out the losers every time they’d tangled with the Connors.
     Serena climbed the ladder out of her lab-to-be and forced herself to think of the next step in the process. If she pushed, she could be ready to start the delicate work of creating T-101s by late next week.
     She’d acquired artificial teeth and some precision tools from a series of dental-supply companies and a matrix material used to grow new flesh for skin grafts from a surgical-supply store. It was amazing what you could acquire if you had a healthy amount of cash.
     She would use her own blood as a starter. The chemicals necessary to promote cell growth were resting in her refrigerator.
     Except for the brute effort required to prepare her small laboratory, everything was set to go or on its way. She should have the first Terminator ready to mingle with humans in under two months.
     Unless Cyberdyne called on her to begin work she should be able to work undisturbed on her new accomplice. Once she’d made one T-101, it could easily construct others. But she was also eager to begin protecting Skynet.
     I know they’re going to hire me, they know they’re going to hire me, what then is the hold up?
     Tricker? Probably. But the government liaison didn’t seem to be anywhere around just now. He was probably doing some last-minute foot-dragging just to assert his authority, or perhaps a bit more investigation. Although she was pretty sure her background sources would check out, Tricker was a deep one.
     I can trust my own groundwork, she assured herself. If worse came to worst, she could always simply eliminate Tricker.
     She would regret it: he was the most interesting person she’d met here. But she could live with regret. What she couldn’t live with was failure.