Author's Note:

The unexpurgated version of this chapter is in the story: An Extra Loop in the Snake.

Chapter 13
The Digimon Emperor

Greg hadn't ever really gone away, of course. For the first few milliseconds after he entered the web he was just a mass of compressed data encapsulated in a smartpacket that searched for a suitable host computer. The Cray that controlled Lawrence-Livermore's National Ignition Facility was ideal. It was shielded and had survived the blasts in California but was idle due to the chaos in the state.

The packet triggered the decompression routine and, while Gwen was still diving for the floor in Nebraska, the supercomputer began modeling a small forest glade ringed with fruit trees and bordered by a crystal-clear stream of pure, cold water. An open, Japanese-style pavilion appeared in the glade and immediately thereafter, Renamon and Greg coalesced out of a bright cloud of particles.

"Whatever else might happen-" Renamon began but was interrupted by the thump of Greg's body hitting the polished wood floor of the pavilion.

"Greg!" she cried out and knelt beside him, pulling him into her lap. He was limp and his head lolled on one shoulder. Renamon could hear that he was breathing and his heart was beating but he didn't seem to have any control over his body. His eyes were open but unfocused. Renamon held his head up and stared into his eyes. "Greg, can you hear me?"

She felt a few twitches of his muscles but otherwise got no response. She held him, talking to him softly and stroking his hair, not knowing what else to do.

/\/\/\/\/\/\

Sparkling lights and strange, random noises and smells were the first things that Greg was conscious of after entering the web. Strange chills and prickly sensations seemed to come and go on his skin- even though he couldn't seem to feel the rest of his body. He told himself not to panic. He should have been in the little glade he'd manged to set up before Gwen had forced his hand, but instead-

Nothing made any sense. He didn't even seem to have a sense of time. How long had he been in this chaotic limbo? I could have been only a minute or it could have been- forever? No, that couldn't be right, he remembered coming here with Renamon- Renamon.

He tried to call out to her but couldn't even hear his own voice. He fought back panic and tried calling again. And again.

How long had he been calling? He couldn't remember- but the thought of Renamon was an anchor- something to hold on to. He kept calling.

/\/\/\/\/\/\

"Greg, can you hear me?" Renamon asked again. She had gotten some water from the stream and dripped it into his mouth. He'd reflexively swallowed, which encouraged her. His body seemed to be fine. If only his mind-

"Ruhh-" Greg slurred out the sound, and Renamon knew what he was trying to say.

"Yes, Greg, I'm here! It's me, Renamon!"

"Reh-?"

She held his head in her hands and kissed him on the fore head. "Come back to me Greg."

And, slowly,- he did.

The first thing that made any sense to him at all was the sound of her voice. After that, random blobs of color began to resolve themselves into recognizable shapes and he began to feel his body. It was quite a while before he could fully control himself and Renamon propped him up on some cushions and brought him water from the stream and fruit from the trees before he was able to walk by himself.

"What happened?" Renamon asked him when he was finally able to hold a coherent conversation. "I was so worried!"

Greg finished the sweet apple he had been eating and tossed the core out of the pavilion. I disappeared before it hit the ground. "I think it's an interface problem. Your brain is digital, so it has no problem interpreting a digital sim." He waved a hand, indicating their surroundings. "My brain is an analog, electro-chemical chunk of gray goo that's currently being implemented by a digital system. It's used to organic input and had to learn how to interpret the new signals it's getting from my senses." He paused and frowned. "Damn, I hope I don't have to go through that again when we go back to the real world!"

"We are going back, then?" Renamon asked.

He smiled and her and looked around at their surroundings. "After a while. It's peaceful and beautiful here and I want to just spend some time with you without worrying about the government or the army or assassins or-"

"I want her," Renamon said simply.

Greg looked at her. She wore her enigmatic expression but he thought he could see hot red anger behind her cool blue gaze. "Gwen?"

Renamon nodded. "She hurt you. She betrayed you. She would have gladly killed you." Little shadows played across her muzzle as her lips began to tense into the ghost of a snarl. "When we go back- let me have her."

Gwen had just been doing her job. Greg knew that. He loyalty lay with her agency- whichever one it was- and with her country. Deception and even murder were part of her duties. But that didn't mean he had to like it.

"Alright- if we see her again. But make it quick, will you?"

"I promise."

"Good. Now- no more talk of unpleasant things," he said, pulling her down onto the cushions beside him. "Let's just relax and enjoy ourselves for a while."

Renamon snuggled into his arms and curled her long tail around him."Are you sure you're- fully functional again?" There was a definite note of gentle teasing in her voice.

Greg smiled and kissed her gently. "Let's find out." He reached out with his mind. He knew just how their environment was designed and if he could only feel the right connection to the underlying code-

"Greg?" Renamon asked, puzzled by his sudden fierce concentration.

He said nothing for a moment and then a look of satisfaction swept over his face. He looked at Renamon and then at the sky. He made a little gesture with his left hand and the bright spring sunshine disappeared. Night came and the sky blazed with stars. The sound of nightingales came from the woods Another gesture and the pavilion filled with the warm glow of dozens of little lanterns and candles. The sweet smell of sandalwood incense flavored the air. From somewhere unseen, a soft, slow melody began to play.

Renamon stared around her in wonder.

"That's better," Greg said. "Now-" and he reached out for his lover.

/\/\/\/\/\/\

Greg wasn't idle, even while spending long, wonderful days and nights with his partner. He set several plans in motion. First was the dispersal of the processing tasks for his little sim. The bombs in California had completely destroyed his original world because it was centered and dependent on one machine. Greg never made the same mistake twice. When he was finished, they were as safe as he could make them. The sim was spread so widely that it wouldn't be noticeable even on the smallest of computers. Greg was pretty sure that only an all-out nuclear war or the destruction of nearly every computer on the planet could harm them.

Next was the gateway. He wouldn't make the mistake of putting it anywhere it could be seen or attacked. That meant it had to be underground but Greg didn't like the idea of returning to the real world only to hide in a hole in the ground, so he came up with a compromise. He started the gateway growing just behind the ancient ruins of an Anasazi cliff dwelling that he had visited during college. It was nearly inaccessible and behind it was the Colorado Plateau, gigatons of solid sandstone- room enough for a thousand underground secret bases. The ruins would provide him a hidden entrance and exit as well as a beautiful view of the wooded canyon they overlooked.

And last came his new digimon. He expanded the sim. The little glade was no longer the full extent of the Digital Dimension. It lay in a hanging valley over a wide plain of mixed grasslands and forests. New digimon of all types hatched out of the eggs that Greg brought out of nothingness. Not just the ones he needed for his campaign in the real world, but a full ecology of types and levels.

Renamon loved it. She happily returned to her old duties of moderator, judge, and peace-keeper, and the world prospered.

When the gate opened, Greg sent a Drimogemon and a few Digmon through to hollow out the rooms and tunnels of the base. He began to assemble the digimon and materials he would take through with him.

"It shouldn't be long now," he told Renamon. "Do you think the new Digital World will be able to get along without you for a while?"

"I- I suppose so," she answered hesitantly.

"What is it?" he asked, surprised by the reluctant tone of her voice.

"Nothing," she said crisply, "you're my tamer and I go where you go."

He moved in front of her and stared directly into her eyes. "We're more than tamer and partner- much more. Your happiness is important to me- more important than anything else. Please," he raised one hand to stroke her cheek, "tell me what you're thinking."

"I'm just so happy here with you," she said nuzzling her cheek into his palm. "Your world- the real world is- ugly and dangerous. Do we really need to go back?"

He sighed and let his hand fall away. "I feel I have to. There are millions of people who have to be- not avenged, no, I don't think vengeance does anything but breed more hatred and violence. But all those people- I want their deaths to mean something- I want to make sure that something like that can never happen again."

Renamon gave a soft moan and sank to her knees. Greg dropped beside her, gripping her shoulders and peering desperately into her face. "Renamon, what's wrong?" He had never seen her cry. He didn't know if she could. But he knew by the soft, keening noises she was making that she was desperately unhappy. He hugged her tightly and stroked her head making comforting sounds and saying, "It's alright, it's alright," over and over again.

"No!" Renamon pushed him roughly away but didn't rise. She supported herself on her hands and hung her head low, refusing to look at him. "It's not alright! Greg, don't you realize it even now? It was my fault all those people died! It wasn't you or the digimon the government wanted to destroy. The bombs fell in the two places where I changed the world! I carelessly used the power you gave me and all those people died because of it!"

"No! NO! It was not your fault!" Greg yelled at her. He grabbed her by the shoulders and roughly swung her around to face him. He used one had to force her chin up so that she had to look him in the eyes. "They kidnapped me and you did your best to prevent it! You came and rescued me when the army was closing in! You saved me when Gwen was going to shoot me full of some damned chemical. You stopped me from making a big, big mistake with her- everything you did was good."

She tried to shake her head but Greg tightened the grip on her chin and leaned in closer. "The power to remake things was something I gave to you. And I made it so you would use it reflexively- almost unconsciously. You just did what I wanted you to. So am I to blame for all those deaths?"

"No!" she said in a shocked voice. "You never meant for that to happen! How could you-"

"No, I didn't," he interrupted her. "I didn't know it would happen. I didn't intend for it to happen-" He gave her chin a shake to emphasize his next words, "-and neither did you! You are not to blame. They are. The government, the military, the whole system that could make a decision to murder millions of people just because they were frightened of something they didn't understand!"

She stared at him for a while and then said, "That's not all. I wanted more than the little world you first made. I wanted to see new lands- and that's when they started appearing. I must have started- everything."

Greg shook his head. "You might as well blame the guy who came up with the original card game or TV series. An innocent desire for wider horizons? That hardly makes you guilty of mass murder. Right up until the missiles launched, anyone who had the chance to say, 'no, I'm not going to help kill all those people,' and didn't take it- they are the guilty ones."

Greg released her and stood up. Renamon didn't rise but kept her gaze on him. "I intend to make sure that nothing like that ever happens again. I want to make sure that those people are stripped of their power. And if they resist-" he shrugged. "But I want you to be happy more than anything else. If you want to stay here and rule this place for me, I'll be- happy for you. And I'll come back to you when I've finished what I have to do."

"I don't want to be parted from you, Greg," Renamon said quietly.

He sighed and reached down and pulled her to her feet. "Then I'll stay here with you. I'll give up on my plans and let the real world go to hell in whatever way it wants to."

She hugged him tightly and kissed him and they walked down the valley together to watch the sunset. They made love under the stars and then returned to their pavilion and settled onto the silk sheets of their bed. She rested her head on his chest and said quietly, "If I made you stay, you'd always wonder what you could have done. Each disaster or war that happened- you'd wonder if you couldn't have prevented it." He started to speak but she place a finger on his lips. "No- you'll go, and I'll go with you. And when we've changed the world we will come back here- or go to some other place. But we will be together. Always."

They lay together then without speaking, listening to each other breathing, until sleep took them.

/\/\/\/\/\/\

Greg suffered some disorientation when they crossed over into the real world but it was over in a few minutes.

He got to work immediately. The first phase of his plan involved digimon training and information gathering. Both went badly. He'd never been interested in warfare, military history or even guns, and so was unprepared to learn exactly how many nuclear weapons were in the world. The realization that there were enough nukes on the planet to destroy every decent-sized city a dozen times over came as a real shock to him. Everything from ICBM's to artillery-fired battlefield nukes. Thousands and thousands of them in the US alone and hundreds aboard hard-to-reach submarines. He'd have to strike at them all simultaneously or risk another, probably larger, eruption of atomic weaponry. That meant that his digimon troops would have to be numerous and very well trained, disciplined, and coordinated.

They were hopeless.

They were instinctively individual fighters and only had the sketchiest notions of teamwork and cooperation. They also had the attention span of a five-year-old on a sugar high. After months and months of training, they were only just barely trustworthy to operate on their own.

Greg sent out squads on practice missions. Half of the digimon didn't come back. They lost interest or got distracted by something and simply wandered off. Some squads dissolved into squabbling fights among themselves.

Greg, in desperation, tried to create more tractable digimon. That's didn't go too well, either. He got creatures that were useless for fighting- near mindless robots who would do exactly what they were told but nothing else. He let the other digimon use them for target practice and tried another approach.

He created subroutines that attached themselves to his digimon troops. They were fairly simple, just recordings of mission goals that replayed themselves into the consciousness of the digimon and gave them a mild, pleasant stimulus when they were cooperating and a mild, increasing to severe, negative feedback when they strayed from their orders.

Greg finished the coding and had the first squad march into and out of the gate in order to attach the new program. When the digimon reemerged from the vortex of the gate, Greg got a bit of a shock. Digimon were just the physical embodiment of computer code, so it made sense that the add-on code would also manifest itself physically, and it did.

It manifested itself as black metal rings around the necks of Greg's troops.

"Huh," Greg exclaimed quietly. The digimon patiently waited for his orders. He thought about trying again with different code but the months of frustrating failures weighed heavy on him, so he finally decided to send them out on a test mission as they were. He glanced at his watch as they disappeared up one of the long tunnels to a distant surface exit. It was getting late and Renamon would be waiting for him.

He made his way out to the ruins. One of the cliff dwellings had been cleaned and furnished and Renamon and he had fallen into the habit of meeting there to eat a light supper and relax after the stresses of the day.

"Is something wrong?" Renamon asked him after they had finished their meal. "You've been very quiet."

"I just have a lot to think about," he replied. He stood and looked out over the canyon which glowed crimson in the last rays of the setting sun.

"Can I help?" she asked coming to stand behind him and wrap her arms around him.

"No, I-" he paused and chuckled. "Well, maybe. Do you think I ought to get myself a cape and a pair of funky glasses?"

Renamon peered around his shoulder at him. This must be one of his subtle jokes, she thought, and responded as she always did to humor she didn't understand: She took him seriously. After a moment's consideration she said, "I think you would look good in a cape."