He hung quietly at the end of his tether, not making a sound, waiting for his fellow spider-soldiers to join him.

Jet swings gave them access to the side corridors. One by one, individual teams fanned out into the depths of the vast complex.

The human infection is coming, Connor thought with satisfaction as he led his men into one flooded tunnel. Waist-deep in water, he took his usual position at point. Other team leaders preferred to stay in the rear or move forward only when surrounded by their troops. Not Connor. He looked forward to leading the way physic-ally as well as tactically. It was a decision that had taught him something early on: Soldiers are far more likely to follow a leader who actually leads.

Weapons at the ready, David and Tunney hung close behind. As they advanced, David was muttering under his breath. Connor knew why but said nothing. David didn’t mind dirt, wasn’t afraid of action, would take on half a dozen enemy all by himself without bothering to call for backup—but he couldn’t swim. Not normally a cause for concern in the southwestern deserts, and yet here he was up to his collywobbles in water.

Tunney flanked David, and Connor suspected it was all he could do to restrain himself from commenting on his partner’s obvious discomfort.

The burrower bomb had done its work well. Ceilings had collapsed throughout the tunnel, unattended flames ate at advanced instrumentation, and the distinctive red lighting typical of Skynet environments flickered unsteadily. Connor would have been perfectly happy to see it all wink out, turn black and lifeless. If that happened, he and his men had come equipped with adequate illumination of their own.