Terminator 3: Hunt

Silent and careful, the T-X climbed up onto the roof of the truck’s cab. She distributed her great weight on all four limbs, positioning them as close to the cab back and sides as possible for maximum support. It would not do to have the cab roof sag and alert those within.
	She leaned out over the driver’s-side door and scaled up her audio sensors to their highest level of receptivity. She also comformed her ear on that side into a conical shape, transforming her ear into the equivalent of a shotgun microphone.
	The humans were talking.
	“… pranged it right across the stomach and cut it in half. So it was lying there in two pieces. Mind you, it was still pretty dangerous. It started crawling toward me, and those things can crawl fast.”
	“Do you talk about anything but fighting?”
	“Sure I do. I talk about women. But not while Libby’s here. Unless you like women, Libby.”
	A female voice: “Not that way, thanks.”
	“So, it’s fighting.”
	“Ever think about broadening your horizons?”
	“Like how?”
	“My engineering unit puts on the Christmas play.”
	“Oh, God, spare me.”
	The T-X leaned away. The humans were not communicating with other vehicles in the convoy, and they were not aware that she had escaped. These were the two most important things.
	She looked around. Her infrared sensors picked up heat traces, one approximately half a mile ahead, one close to a mile behind. This convoy appeared to be negotiating a winding road, a set of hairpin turns and switchbacks descending a long, low mountain slope.