Chapter 3:

Oberon walked briskly down the corridor to Commander Lock's office, so briskly that the two security officers escorting him had to hasten their strides just to keep up. He reached the heavy metal door a step ahead of his escorts and raised a fist to knock. Before he had the chance to, however, one of the officers, a clean-faced young rookie, reached ahead of him and rapped sharply on the door. The rookie looked up at Oberon somewhat defiantly and Oberon gave him a stare that could sour milk. The young man blinked, and retreated back a step.

Come in, a voice said from inside.

Oberon looked over at the impetuous youth and raised his eyebrows. Hastily, and keeping his gazed fixed on the floor, the rookie flipped the door-latch and opened it for him. Oberon stepped inside, brushing past his two escorts.

Commander Lock's office, like most of Zion, was constructed out of metal and rivets. It gave the entire room a cold, impersonal look, which was a fairly decent match to Lock's no-nonsense personality. Lock himself sat behind a broad desk, busily occupied with a task at hand. He looked up as Oberon entered, a small smile tugging at the corners of his mouth.

Lock and Oberon had been friends for many years, as far back as either could remember. They both saw eye to eye on a number of different things, but it was only one thing that was really necessary. They both knew in their hearts that the end of this war would not be brought about by some Messiah or half-baked prophecy, but by who had the best defensive and offensive strategies. Neither Lock nor Oberon knew if humanity could emerge victorious over the machines, but they knew that they had a better chance fighting than putting their faith in a single man.

Thank you, that will be all. Lock said to the escorts, who proceeded to close the door behind Oberon.

Either I'm getting older, or they're getting younger, and I'm not sure which is worse. How are you Jason? Oberon said, extending his hand.

Getting along I suppose. You? Lock replied, taking Oberon's hand in his own and shaking powerfully.

Well, to be perfectly honest, Jason, I'm a little confused. Your message was exceedingly cryptic. That's not like you.

I know, and I must apologize for that... but we're facing something here that I'm not exactly sure what to make of.

How do you mean? Oberon asked, taking a seat.

I mean this, Lock said, following Oberon's lead and sitting down before turning on a small
holographic projector that sat on his desk.

We received this transmission a little over forty hours ago, from Captain Terrace of the Rapture.

The image that appeared was blue, hazy and somewhat transparent, but was unmistakable nonetheless. It was a hovercraft, specifically the Argos, and it was literally covered in Sentinels. The strange thing about it, though, was that the sentinels weren't attacking. They were moving, swarming over the hull of the ship, but it looked as if they were waiting for something...

I'm afraid I don't understand.

Neither do I, Captain. The Rapture was not able to get close enough to take any thermal readings, but it seems as if the Argos' hull is still intact. And there's one other thing...

What's that?

They're broadcasting inside the Matrix.

***


So, what about you? Chimera asked, looking at Quinn.

The crew was sitting around the scarred metal table in the mess hall of the Charon, surrounded by the soft hum caused as Zion's generators recharged the ships batteries.



Yeah, do you ever miss the lie?

Sometimes. Sometimes when the heater's on the busted and I'm tired of wrapping myself in old blankets I think about lying on a beach somewhere, drinking margarita's.

Have you ever looked back? Wished you could go back in time and take the blue pill?

Quinn let out a short, mirthless laugh. Hell no.

Hinge looked surprised. What do you mean no'? Never?

Quinn looked at Hinge with calm steady eyes.

Why not? Chimera asked, softly.

Quinn was silent for a long moment, staring straight down at the table, as if contemplating it.

Back in the Matrix, before I was unplugged, I looked... different. I weighed almost 300 pounds. Can you imagine? An eleven year old weighing almost 300 pounds? I had always been overweight, ever since I was a baby. Doctors never could figure out what was wrong with me. It wasn't glandular, they said, or hereditary, and it wasn't my diet. I just was. My weight isolated me. I was ridiculed all through grade school. No matter what new diet the doctors or my parents put me on the weight just refused to go away. Eventually, I just made up my mind that instead of trying to make relationships with people, I'd make relationships with things that couldn't ridicule me. I began confining myself to my room whenever I could, taking things apart and rebuilding them. Figuring out how they worked, how every little piece performed some essential function. Take the smallest cog out of a watch and it's useless. Eventually I got into computers, and after that I got into hacking. It was through hacking that I was first made aware there was something called The Matrix. Of course, I didn't know what it was at the time, but I found out soon enough.

Everything changed for me when they pulled me out. I went from pushing three-hundred down to seventy-three pounds. It was the first time in my life I had ever looked normal... well, thin, anyway. Over two-hundred and twenty pounds gone in a nano-secrond. I can't really remember what my first thoughts outside of the Matrix, in this new body, were. I was in shock, partially. I think I threw up a lot, even though there wasn't anything in my stomach anymore. Of course it wasn't over after that, it still took me about two weeks to get used to living in the body of a thin person, seeing myself in a mirror, and another month of therapy inside the Construct to get my residual self-image to match my real-world body. But it happened, finally, and here I am.

So, would I go back if I had the chance? Back to the name-calling and the stares and the isolation? No. No I can't say that I would.

The entire table was silent for what seemed an eternity. Finally, it was Hinge who spoke first.

Wow, that's... that's... I don't know what to say. I'm sorry.

I never knew that. Shade said. I've known you for over eight years, and I never knew that.

Most people don't. Quinn said, pushing his rimless glasses up the bridge of his nose. It's not something I often talk about... but honestly, it feels good to get it off my chest.

The door of the mess hall opened with a creak, like all the doors in the ship did, and Oberon stepped through. The crew stood as soon as they saw him, each with concern heavy on their face.

Chimera said.

Are the batteries charged? he asked.

They should be ready within the hour, sir.

We're leaving immediately, unfortunately we don't have the luxury of time to let them finish recharging.

Sir, what is it? Echo asked, What's going on?

You'll all get a full briefing once we're outside the city, I assure you. I want you all to report to the main deck at 0700 hours. That's in ten minutes, understood? Chimera, take us out as soon as possible.

Yes, sir. came the unanimous reply.

***

A little over ten minutes later, the crew was gathered around the holographic imager on the main deck, watching in absolute silence as sentinels swarmed over the hull of the Argos.

I can tell you only what Commander Lock told me. Oberon began. Several days ago, the Rapture stumbled across what, at first, appeared to be the downed wreckage of the Argos. However, scans showed that the Argos' hull was still intact, and all of her engines were still theoretically operational. What's more, as you can see here, the machines don't seem to have any interest in damaging the ship.

It looks almost like they're protecting it... Quinn said.

God damn Cyphers. Hinge hissed. The infamous actions of the former Nebuchadnezzar crewman had quickly turned his name into a synonym for a traitor. A cypher was just about the lowest insult one could be called.

Hinge, that's enough. Oberon said, sharply. We don't know enough information yet to be making any sort of rash judgments. The Rapture could not get close enough to do any thermal scans, but what we do know is that the Argos is broadcasting inside the Matrix. Kara, I'm going to need you to do a search for any crew members of the Argos' throughout the Matrix. Someone has answers, and Commander Lock has assigned us to get them.

Why us, sir? Shade asked, thinking out loud. What I mean is, why didn't Commander Lock send another ship, like the Nebuchadnezzar? Wouldn't Neo be better suited for something like this?

A heavy silence settled over the room. The crew knew only too well how Oberon felt about Morpheus and his beliefs. The fact that Neo's name was even mentioned in the presence of Oberon was cause for alarm enough, never mind that Shade had openly questioned a direct order from his captain.

Why, Shade, would Commander Lock send the Nebuchadnezzar over us? I have the honor of commanding what is, in my opinion, the finest crew Zion has to offer. You would be better suited to put your faith in yourself and your own abilities than in prophecy and rumor. Neo is nothing more than a man, no different from you or I, understood?

Yes, sir. Shade responded.

Good. Kara, take us up to broadcast depth. And Shade, if you ever question my authority again, I'll have you locked in your bunk and cited for insubordination once we get back to Zion, is that clear?

Yes sir, perfectly sir. Shade said, nodding quickly.

Oberon said, his mood changing quickly as he clapped a hand on Shade's shoulder. Be careful where you put your faith. The only person you know you can count on is you. I've never doubted your abilities, you shouldn't either.

Thank you, sir. Shade said, feeling genuinely flattered.

Now come on, we have a mission to complete.