Souls in Winter

C. 2004 by Bagpipes

Disclaimers: All standard stuff applies. The Matrix trilogy, The Animatrix, Enter the Matrix and all their characters are the property of the Wachowski brothers, Warner Bros., etc. They have been used without permission. No profit of any kind was made by this tale; it's meant for entertainment only. Quotes from ETM are not mine.

(Author's Note: and indicate thoughts.)

PROLOGUE: The Machine City of 01

Roiling clouds swirled overhead, thick with lightning and icy rain. The machine-creature known as Ex Libris quietly watched the Deus Ex Machina meld itself back within the living city, sensory spines flashing through the visible spectrum as the Machina settled into what passed for sleep among the machines. Libris' own sensors were active as well, sending thousands of commands and subroutines throughout the frequencies used to communicate with 01's inhabitants.

Already Ex Libris had sent sentinels to intercept the living barge carrying the One back to the city's center-the power plant. Other denizens were busy extracting the One's mate from the ruined tower where the humans' ship had crashed.

There was still time to preserve their life energies, Libris thought, and doing so was imperative. This One-this "Neo"-was different. He had done things the other incarnations had been unable or unwilling to. The human was far more important than even Deus Ex could have realized. A new epoch of life was emerging, a proving ground that would mark the greatest change since the sky had been blackened and that first horrific war fought. Ex Libris released its store of sentinels from within its shell, and the creatures swarmed about their AI overseer, darting through Libris' spines in a frenzy of anticipation. The machines paused as one, absorbing their master's commands, then burst away in all directions, headed into the city's labyrinth-like core. Ex Libris cocooned itself within a nearby tower's base.

There was nothing more to do now but wait.

CHAPTER 1: Rebirth

Smoke and scorched metal filled the ruins of the dock with a heavy, thick odor, the tang of spent fury. Hundreds of destroyed sentinels lay entangled with injured and slain humans, coils of machine tentacle twined with flesh.

Kid swung the heavy arms of his APU outwards, picking up yet another piece of scrap. With the fighting finally over, the exoskeleton's massive guns had been temporarily replaced with large hand-like manipulators designed to pick up debris.

"Just a little more. . ." Steel rattled as the APU's armload of scorched metal was dumped onto the dock floor. Kid paused in his collecting and mopped sweat from his face, wincing at numerous cuts and sore muscles. He knew he needed rest, needed to eat, but if he allowed even the smallest pause--

They're still alive. Don't even think about anything else, keep working. . .
Everyone who was able had been pressed into cleanup duty in the cavernous docking bay, melting down sentinels and torn metal to be used for repairs and rebuilding. Kid felt yet another numbing pang as he saw the arm of an APU that had been flung across the floor, the shoulder joint twisted. Intricate tattoo-like designs had been engraved on the metal, a soldier's name. Kid whispered a silent rite for the fallen warrior and moved on, carefully picking up the shorn arm and placing it on one of the scrap piles.

Farther across the dock, the gaping hole that had been Gate Three cradled the remains of Mjolnir, the only ship known to survive the war. The others were lost deep in the tunnels, their crews victims of the machines. The Nebuchadnezzar had been destroyed by some kind of bomb. And the Logos. . . Kid tore his gaze from the ruined gate. He still believed, even if most of Zion had accepted the loss of their hero. Rumors had flared and spread wide the first full day after the war. Some said that Neo and Trinity had been reinserted into the Matrix somehow, reduced back to coppertops. Others thought that they were being held captive by the machines, forced to remain in the city as slaves. Another Zionite had started a myth that the One had willingly remained with the machines. Most, however, sadly accepted the most likely reasoning: that their champion and his lover had been killed. No one had ever dared go near the machine city for uncounted decades--the surface of the planet was no longer truly human domain.

I won't give up, Kid repeated to himself. I just won't, no matter what Lock and Morpheus and the others think. A fluttering caught the edge of Kid's vision and he brought the APU to a halt. Lowering the mobile armory to a crouch, Kid hopped down to the floor, heading to the thing's back. Reaching up, he carefully untangled the end of the banner he'd made, one resembling the kind used by samurai centuries before. Kid's standard, however, didn't contain a dynastic family crest, but hand-woven symbols and characters against the patchwork of cloth. The symbols, taken from the monitors the operators used, spelled out the names of Captain Mifune, Neo, and Trinity, running vertically down the long banner like real code. Smaller lines of characters listed their victories and bits of each fighter's history. Above these, near the top of the standard, was a circle with three smaller ones in the center arranged in a triangle. If the One had been a feudal lord, this would have been his coat-of-arms.

Returning to his seat, Kid mobilized the APU once more and returned to his work, banner waving free.

On the far side of the dock, the Mjolnir's captain was overseeing repair work on the ship, pointing out important areas to his crew and the repair techs. Roland sighed, wishing the odor of scorched metal and ozone had a different source.

"Looking better." Niobe came up beside Roland, gazing at the Hammer.

"Still needs a lot of work. That crash tore the hell out of her hull and the repulsor pads are shot." Roland looked at his fellow captain. "Just glad I've got her back. You did some damn fine flying."

Niobe nodded almost absently, her thoughts on her own ship. "Any landing you can walk away from, Roland." She held up a battered metal teapot. "Need a drink?"

"Couldn't hurt." Roland shoved aside maps and reports from a makeshift table nearby and pulled up two crates to use as chairs. The informal afternoon tea breaks had become a ritual during the war's aftermath, something to focus on. Niobe was looking at the gate, its massive gears sheared and bent. Half of the portal's severed counterweight chain lay haphazardly piled like a dying serpent. Kid's shot had been flawless.

"Do you think they made it all the way to that city?" Niobe poured steaming green tea for herself and Roland. He shook his head.

"I don't know. Wherever they ended up though, they actually did it. We won." Roland sipped his drink. "But they sure as hell didn't deserve to die for it." They sat quietly for a minute. "You think they're still alive?" Roland looked at Niobe.

"Until I see proof that they aren't, I'll believe anything."

"It's been four days, Niobe. No transmissions, no sightings on any of the sensor arrays. . ."

"I know." Niobe finished her tea. "The memorial ceremony is tonight." She stood, straightening the red captain's tunic she wore. "Need any help with those repairs?"

Rustling leaves and the quiet sound of water over pebbles were the only sounds to be heard as Ghost sat in his personal construct. It was a slightly remodeled version of the serene Zen garden program he'd used only a few days before. Today though, the first mate was engaged in a different form of meditation. Back straight, hands methodically reaching for a piece of origami paper from the tall stack beside him, Ghost carefully folded the paper in sections, each crease a monument to perfection. A small crane took shape in his hands, the artificial breeze fluttering paper wings. Ghost set the crane free on the stream beside his feet, which was already dotted with dozens of the colorful birds.

One for every memory of her.

Ghost's mind sank into the calming activity of paper-folding, and memories of his last session in the garden surfaced.

"You call that concentration?" Trinity walked up to him, smooth rock in hand, her face upside down as she regarded Ghost from where he lay on the sand.

"Still haven't recovered from that last ass-kicking I gave you?" Ghost stood, facing her.

Creased paper hesitated.

"Now you've done it. I'll make you eat those words and half the rocks in this garden. . ."

And resumed.

Burning pain stuck in his throat, and Ghost made himself breathe deeply. He wasn't ready to let go--not yet. Possibly not ever. Ghost's hands jerked suddenly, paper falling to the sandy ground. A splash of red marred the pure white of the paper he'd been folding. Ghost stared at the cut, watching the thin line of crimson on the tip of his finger as it congealed, staining the earth with dark droplets. Shaking his head, Ghost let his hand fall into the water, rinsing away the blood.

One more day. Just one. Another crane joined its companions, this one flecked with red.

"Ghost?"

He paused again, looking up at the sky. Sparks, patching in the call from the intercom in the hallway outside. Ghost hesitated, then answered.

"Here."

"Sorry buddy, but Niobe wanted me to remind you. It's time."

"On my way." Ghost made one more crane, then saved the program. Closing his eyes, he triggered the subroutine that would end the session--and sat up on his bed, blinking away the peaceful landscape. Standing, his stomach rapidly knotting, Ghost slid his dark blue shirt on and stepped into boots.

Sparks was waiting outside the door, uncharacteristically subdued. Ghost nodded.

"Let's go."

The temple cavern was filled by the time Ghost and Sparks made their way there. Niobe caught her first mate's eye and gestured for them to join her on the natural dais above the crowd. Morpheus and Roland were already there. Colt, Mauser, AK, and Link stood behind their respective captains.

Three captains out of a core of ten, Ghost thought. And of those three, only two had a crew left. Morpheus had lost everything. The Nebuchadnezzar's captain had a drained look in his eyes, despite his steady appearance. Councilor Hamann was making a speech, a eulogy for the dead and remembrance for those who had been lost. Down below, thousands of mourners listened, as many as could fit in the natural cavern, holding torches and candles in honor of their heroes. Ghost pulled away from his thoughts.

". . . let us begin this commemoration with the first ship to fall in this conflict, the Osiris. . ." Hamann's strong, clear voice went though each of Zion's lost hovercraft, their captains and crew.

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The Councilor continued. "As we end this homage to our warriors, and our families, there are two that deserve special recognition this night. Their sacrifice saved us all, and they will never be forgotten. I speak of Neo and Trinity."

A roar erupted from those gathered below, cheers and prayers to the legend of The One and the fall of the machine army. Trinity had been just another soldier among dozens to the native Zionites, but now that her name had been publicly connected with Neo, it was immediately heard from more than one worshipper and promptly added to the chants being sung by the most devout believers. Ghost closed his eyes, not bothering to brush at the stream of tears sliding down his otherwise expressionless features.

Hamann, at least, had remembered her.

The Councilor stepped down from the front of the dais, signaling the end of the eulogy. People slowly headed back to their homes and duties, candles left in niches along the walls. Offerings of every kind were set beside pathways and lava pools, tiny oases of memory. A light grip on his shoulder made Ghost turn to see Sparks. The operator was offering the only comfort he could. Ghost nodded, suddenly feeling dead inside. Niobe was hugging Morpheus. Roland's gaze bore through the stone floor, his arms folded. Nobody spoke. There simply wasn't anything more that could be said.

"I've got to get back to the Hammer." Roland's voice was a rough mumble. He'd never been adept at offering condolences, and the death of his ship's medic, Maggie, was still raw. The group of warriors splintered as each went to find a task.

Kid was jerked awake from where he'd fallen asleep in the APU's harness.

What was that? More alert now, Kid activated the control rig and turned towards the gate. He'd felt something, faint but just beyond recognition. Up in the dock's control tower--what remained of it--Commander Lock and his defense lieutenants were staring at the bank of monitors that were linked to the exterior sensors of the city.

"Picking up a weak signal--it's getting stronger, sir."

"Home in on it." Lock was already motioning to some of the infantry soldiers. "Get whatever APUs are operational and stand guard at that damn gate!"

Down on the dock floor Roland pulled himself from his ship's innards as the dock alarms went off, bellowing at his crew to evacuate the Hammer. Several dock workers gathered near the small group of defenders, most armed only with courage. A few had scrounged up whatever ordnance was still operating.

"Grab whatever weapon you can find and back the hell away from the ship. Looks like we're getting company." Roland traded a handful of tools for a plasma cutter. Niobe and Colt did the same. Mauser and Link had found shoulder cannons.

"Commander! Look at this!"

Lock strode over to the young lieutenant in question, following the stream of input as information scrolled up the monitor's screen.

". . . Can't be." Lock checked again to be certain. "Stand down! All exterior weapons offline now!"

The alarms abruptly stopped, leaving the dock mostly quiet except for the vibrations of an approaching object. Kid had maneuvered over to the group, one of his APU's arms replaced with the usual gun. The dock opening filled with a shadowy mass--and the Logos drifted in.

Niobe nearly dropped her cutter.

"God, is that what I think it is?" Link hesitantly lowered the weapon he was holding. Everyone backed up, watching as the Logos touched down with a rattling thump. Tremendous damage was evident, although it had been repaired enough to get the vessel back to Zion. The cockpit windshield was shattered, the pilot and co-pilot seats gone. Niobe began walking up to the ship when movement stopped her.

A hand reached over the edge of the cockpit, feeling around for a minute before being followed by an arm, then a familiar though bloody face.

"Neo!" Kid's cry lanced through the total silence that had immobilized the gathered soldiers.

The One stood shakily, clothing torn, face and hands bleeding. His eyes had been covered with some kind of cloth bandage. Suddenly drained of all strength, Neo fell forward, tumbling out of the ship. Those fighters standing closest surged forward, catching Neo in a net of hands. The One was gently lowered to the floor, Niobe cradling his shoulders.

"Neo. . ."

He tried to speak but only managed to cough, chilled body shaking. Warmth enveloped Neo as blankets were found and Niobe held a cup of tea to his lips. Gratefully sipping at the drink, Neo looked upwards towards the Logos, then back at Niobe, gripping her wrist.

"Help her," Neo whispered. His body went limp as he fainted.

"Somebody get Captain Morpheus, now!" Niobe ordered two other crewmen to fetch the medics.

Kid leaped from his APU, already flying across the dock before Niobe had finished speaking.

NEXT: Chapter 2: Recovery and Revelations