A/N: Reviewers: THANK YOU THANK YOU THANK YOU!! I really appreciate feedback, you're all fantastic!

Sorry this chapter took so long. I was finishing off my final exams, then I had graduation. As such, I've been hung-over for about a week. By the way, I have taken some poetic licence here, you'll notice references to food (I have no idea what they eat in Zion) and make-up (not sure if the resistance would even bother with this luxury). Anyway, nuff excuses, read on!

Midnight. I stand alone, on the rooftop of a skyscraper, the lights of a thriving city flickering vividly with life beneath me. I look down, a strange surge of power pulsing through my veins. I am in control – with the smallest thought, gesture, or wish, I can manipulate this world to my desire. Rules do not apply to me, conventions don't bind me, and this world is literally at my feet.

This knowledge has not gone unnoticed by my opponents, however, who lurk within the shadows behind me. I turn around expectantly, and they reveal themselves. Five fighters – one mind. They walk with the poise one can see within soldiers – full of dignity, superiority, powerful and imposing. And suddenly, they call me by a foreign name long forgotten by my ears...

"Mr Anderson."

I say nothing, merely arching a brow as the first one launches his attack, almost appearing weightless as his body coils and spins through the air. One by one, they attack with an almost admirable vigour, daring and courage. Five attackers, all bearing the signature fighting style of... agents. A mechanical, powerful mode of attack.

Yet these fighters are different – I can see a distinctive pattern encoded in their being. Their code is inconsistent with that of an agent, but most certainly not human. In fact, these programs are something I have never encountered before. They are some sort of replica, descendants (if you will) of the original agent programs. Yet much more advanced. Much more formidable.

I feel the power swell and rush through my body, and suddenly I'm flying, untouchable, and unbeatable... 'I am the One!' my mind wants to scream as my hands and feet easily meet their targets. 'I am reality and surreality incarnate! There is nothing in this fantasy world that can stop me!'

Action unexpectedly freezes. A thin shadow is cast across the ground, and as my eyes follow the shadow to the figure who casts it, my blood runs cold.

Apex! My daughter, my only child... she stands silently at the other end of the rooftop, dark hair being whipped by the wind, her face steely and determined, those blue eyes inherited from her mother now flashing with anger. How is it possible that she's here? What does this mean?

And suddenly, in a dramatic and ironic role-reversal, I am no longer a part of the action. Now I'm merely a bystander, detached like a viewer watching a movie. I watch the scene that unfolds around me with a helpless subjection, unable to move, unable to fight, unable to speak. This lack of power is something I'm not used to feeling. What is happening?

I feel it now – several flashes of silver, spinning swiftly in my direction. Apex suddenly breaks into a sprint, also heading towards me. In insufferably slow movements, I can see what it is my daughter is about to do, yet I am powerless in changing the course in time.

With an incalculable speed she hurtles across the rooftop, rapidly closing the gap between us. For a brief moment my mind is awestruck at her speed and grace, her powerful strides. She reaches into the air and effortlessly plucks the first dagger from the air, mid-spin. Defying motion and logic, she tosses that dagger aside and continues her sprint, spinning on one foot and bringing the other crashing across the second dagger's path, deflecting it away while I watch, flabbergasted. Suddenly Apex veers left, and a scream claws its way to my throat as I see she has thrown herself directly into the third silver dagger's route – she's shielding me from it.

No! Not like this! It can't happen like this! She can't do this to me!

The dagger slashes brutally into my daughter's chest with a sickening thud, her flesh ripping viciously. Scarlet blood gushes from the wound, spilling onto the ground. As her body hits the floor all oxygen departs my lungs, my soul shatters, the colour drains from my face, and the scream that has been lodged in my throat now explodes in form of my only child's name. Yet to no avail – her tiny body shudders and thrashes, her lungs momentarily struggle for air, then finally she falls motionless. Her eyes are wide and glassy, as her hand slowly reaches across the ground towards me, faltering the moment her young life is drained away.

"APEX!"

An unbelievable, raging, inexpressible wrath swells inside me...

At this point Neo sits straight up in bed, gasping, wide-eyed and pulse racing. With the vivid images of his daughter being viciously murdered still flashing before his eyes, he hastily tosses the blankets off of him, walking swiftly to Apex's room with an intuitive paternal instinct to ensure her safety.

Sliding her door open, his eyes fall on the figure of his daughter, tangled up in blankets. For a moment Neo fears the worst, until he sees the rhythmic rise and fall of her shoulders as she takes each breath. She's alive – and she's safe. His body sags with relief, and his heart-rate slows down somewhat. But finding himself unable to leave Apex's side, Neo instead pulls an old chair beside her bed, gently places her blanket back over her shoulders, and watches vigilantly as his daughter sleeps.

Sweat still oozes from Neo's pores as his mind replays the events of the nightmare over and over again. The view from the rooftop, the revolutionary agent programs, three spinning daggers, Apex's body falling lifelessly to the ground... The dream was so vivid, so lucid, so real. Neo grits his teeth.

It was too real.

The One knows all too well the significance of dreams such as this. While his regular dreams are always random and pointless, dreams as vivid as this one always hold an omen, a meaning. Neo's mind flickers back to a time seventeen years ago, when he had a similar, vivid and terrifying dream foretelling the death of Trinity. A dream which eventually came true, despite his being able to alter the outcome. Now it's happening again. And this time it's Apex.

He watches the night's shadows flickering over the curves of his daughter's face, and as always, is reminded of Trinity. The steely toughness blended with haunting beauty, her eyes, and her hair – all of it is indicative of her mother. Apex represents the two women he loves most in the world, combined.

What does the Matrix have to do with my daughter? The thought repeats itself over and over again, tormenting Neo with implications far beyond his reach.

What doesn't the Matrix have to do with her? another, nastier voice replies.

Desperate and frenzied thoughts, explanations and emotions churn throughout his mind as Neo reaches towards the sleeping form of Apex, gently touching her hair. She stirs, oblivious, and continues sleeping.

Apex, Neo thinks despairingly, Do you know how precious you are? Do you know how much you mean to us? Do you know how much we love you? How I would give my life to protect you?

Neo knits his brows, gripping the arm of the chair tightly in anxiety while trying frantically to analyse the contents of his nightmare. How could he prevent this predestined tragedy? How is it possible that Apex – a free-born child, a true human – was able to enter the Matrix in the first place? Why was he incapable of stopping the dagger from piercing her flesh? Why did she sacrifice herself to save him?

Why, why, why?

The One stays intuitively by Apex's bedside, while his dream continues to torment him with what is to come. I swear to God, he thinks resolutely, If any harm comes to you, I will hunt whoever is responsible down to the ends of the earth.

I wake up fairly late, partially shaken by the strange dream I had last night. In this dream I was a scrawny five-year-old girl again. I was waiting at Zion's docking bay, Morpheus' ship landed, and I went looking for my parents. Suddenly a crowd surged from nowhere, overwhelming me and sweeping me away from the ship. I was hopelessly lost amongst the chaos, still a child, terrified and screaming my parents' names. Nobody was listening to me, and not a sign of my Mom or Dad could be seen.

At that point I woke up.

This dream rekindles the alarm and anger I was feeling last night, so I roughly toss my blankets aside, march over to my closet, and decide to fight tooth and nail in order to get myself a place in this mission, even if it's only engine repairs. Pulling open my closet door, I yank random articles of clothing free, tossing them carelessly into a single worn bag. I've deliberately left my packing to the last minute, half because I'm lazy, and half because I'm trying to slow my parents down as much as possible.

Satisfied I've packed enough clothes, I seize my bag and stalk into the living room, dumping my bag on a chair. I kneel down, reach under the chair and pull out my trusty toolbox, placing it next to my bag. Suddenly I look down and realise I'm still in my underwear, so I quickly scoop some clothes off the top of the pile and run to the bathroom.

A shower and a clothes change later, and I'm ready. I can smell breakfast cooking and hear the clatter of cutlery and crockery in the kitchen, so I drag my bag and my toolbox that way. Mom and Dad are seated at our tiny table, sipping from clay mugs while waiting patiently for me to sit down and eat. Taking my own seat, I look down at my plate and a pang of guilt hits me. Mom's cooked my absolute favourite – fried potato cakes.

My parents watch carefully as I silently eat my breakfast, savouring each mouthful and trying not to let the guilt show on my face. I should say something, anything, but nothing seems right. Finally Mom clears her throat.

"I don't think you'll need your toolbox," she remarks, arching a brow.

I look blankly from my breakfast, to my toolbox, and then at her. She reads from my indifference that I'm not planning on leaving my tools behind, and she drops the subject.

An awkward stillness follows, during which I choose to resurrect my line of reasoning as to why I should come with them. "Morpheus wouldn't mind if I came with you. He likes me. And I could be a deckhand. I could help with the engines."

Dad leans forward, the traces of a sly smile on his face. "You know, when I was seventeen, I would've given anything for my parents to have gone away for an unspecified amount of time."

I grin too, giving a shrug. "I guess." Then I think about it some more. Without Mom and Dad, I can hang with whoever I want without my parents or bodyguards tailing me. I can actually attend gatherings and raves with Maya (Link and Zee's daughter) and Tech, I can meet other teenagers, and just have a good time. I can dance, party, flirt, and go crazy. And for once, I can pretend I'm a normal teenager.

Suddenly, I can't wipe the smile off my face. In my head I busily make a list of all the things I have to do before my parents get back while Mom eyes me with mock suspicion. "Look at her," she says to Dad, grinning, "There's evil glint in her eyes. Now you've gone and put crazy ideas into her head."

Dad holds his hands up in defence, palms forward. "Hey, I was just trying to get that frown off her face! Looks like it worked."

I guess I can never stay mad at my parents for very long. So much for fighting tooth and nail.

Now the three of us march along outside the residential levels, each one laden with bags and belongings. I think of how we must look like ants carting food back to an ant nest, and I giggle to myself. But as we grow closer and closer to Zee's door, I trail further and further behind. My doubt has returned. How could I be planning all the wild things I had to do behind my parent's back, when they could be injured during this mission, or disappear off the face of the earth, or be killed?

I halt in my tracks, dropping my bags and toolbox to the ground with a loud thud. Mom and Dad glance over their shoulders to see what I'm doing, and my face suddenly screws up.

"Promise you're coming back," I say, repeating my plea from the night before.

Dad and Mom exchange a glance, and without a word, they also drop their bags and approach me. I allow them both to enfold me in their arms, knowing that this may be the last time we share a hug as a family. I may never again breathe in the scent of Mom's perfume, or feel Dad's protective arms wrapped around me. I try not to let on that I'm crying, and hide my face in Dad's clothing.

"We promise, Apex. We won't leave you behind."

I don't reply, wrapping my own arms tightly around them both, as if to never let go.

"The Amaunet is one of seven of the revolutionary 'Project Shadow' ships constructed two years ago," the ragged dock worker informs the four former members of the Nebuchadnezzar, gesturing towards their ship-to-be in between curious glances at Neo. "As such, this will be her maiden voyage."

Morpheus, Link, Neo and Trinity stand silently atop the steel landing, analytical eyes cast over the new ship.

"I see," Morpheus replies, cool and indifferent. "Would I be correct in assuming maintenance personnel have completed their final inspections prior to our arrival?"

"Sure have, Captain. Just waiting for the green light from you, and you're all set."

Link, Trinity and Neo glance questioningly at their captain, each one noticing the overly-formal question is out of the ordinary, even for Morpheus. And besides his air of sophisticated professionalism, there is a certain feeling of... coldness... which Morpheus seems to be directing through his formal words and towards the dock worker. It is Trinity who detects the distant sadness in his eyes, and realises his reason for this. This ship isn't the Neb, she thinks, feeling a touch of sympathy for her captain. The Neb was lost. This isn't the same.

The Nebuchadnezzar isn't the only loss weighing down Morpheus' soul. Five souls, five brave crewmen, have also been lost over the years, each death bringing with it new boundaries of pain and grief. These victims of war are the reason Morpheus no longer recruits young new crew members. The guilt, the sorrow and the anger he harbours over each death can be given no more chances to further intensify.

Now this tiny team of four is all that remains of the great crew of the Neb. Mouse, the goofy kid, and an unbelievable compute whiz. Apoc, the intelligent and shrewd weapons specialist. Switch, whose fiery energy and sharp tongue gave her an admirable fearlessness. Dozer, the compassionate and philosophical medic who carried a fierce loyalty towards his ship. Tank, the lively and quick-witted operator who somehow always found a way to keep everyone's spirits up. Even Cipher. They had all entrusted Morpheus, and as a result their lives were taken away. Morpheus visualises their faces one by one, feeling the anguish beginning to creep from the dark place in his mind where he has imprisoned it. He quickly fights off the tendrils of emotion, and the mask of cold armour returns to its rightful place.

As the worker continues to brief the four on the Amaunet, it becomes apparent that this ship will be unlike anything the crew have ever operated. Innovative technology, radical new defences and a completely upgraded mainframe system. Fortunately the workings of this new ship will not completely beyond grasp.

"That ship should be damn near untouchable," the worker was saying, now making his way towards the docked ship. "But I've noticed that your crew is a little... small. The Amaunet has a pretty complex guidance system. If two or more of you guys jack into the Matrix, your pilot or your operator's gonna have one hell of a time at the controls. No matter how special the crewmembers may be," he adds, giving Neo a grin which is not returned.

Trinity gives the worker a razor-sharp warning glare, then glances uneasily at Morpheus.

"That is a risk I am willing to take," Morpheus replies composedly. "If this ship is as 'untouchable' as you claim, there should be no problems for our crew."

The worker scratches the back of his head awkwardly, saying, "Sure, sure, whatever you say. Well, you can make your own inspections if you like, then it's all yours."

Link is the first aboard the Amaunet, eager to prepare the ship for take-off as soon as possible. Morpheus follows, while Neo and Trinity hover behind. Catching Neo as he gives a long lingering gaze over his shoulder at Zion, Trinity places a hand on his shoulder.

"It was easier this way," she says. "If we let her come to the dock to say goodbye, she would've argued her way onto the ship."

Neo nods quickly, turning around and striding up the walkway. "Yeah, I know. I was just thinking..."

"What?"

Neo gives a half-chuckle to himself, shaking his head. "She would've loved seeing this thing."

Trinity – who has never really understood Apex's fascination with machinery, especially since her own parents have played such a key role in the war against machines – simply smiles softly as the entrance hatch closes.

It's been two hours and forty minutes since Mom, Dad and Link left for the ship, and I'm sitting on my makeshift bed at Link and Zee's place, watching Maya apply another layer of makeup. Despite these particular circumstances, I have to admit, I do love visiting Zee. Their apartment is like a fantasy world – there's the scent of incense and other exotic fragrances floating around, despite the obvious degeneration of the walls and doorways they are decorated with delicate and beautiful silver trinkets, and you can feel an almost magical atmosphere, lurking in every room. And then there's Zee, who walks around like a goddess, hair tumbling from cornrows to curls, the jingle of bizarre jewellery announcing her every move, a mischievous glint in her eyes.

She's always been like an aunt to me, although technically, we are in no way related. A close friend of Mom's, Zee even used to insist that I call her Aunt Zee, but it never really rubbed off on me. Plain old 'Zee' is so much simpler. She's one of those adults who never seem to age, blessed with grace, charm and beauty.

Her daughter Maya is only a few months younger than me, but she's already stunningly beautiful, with popularity plus and hordes of guys falling at her feet. Maya has the ability to walk into a room and stop all action dead, all due to her sheer charisma. So I'm feeling very unattractive as she sits on her own bed, chatting away and applying sticky bronzing powder to her face. Maya is my closest girl friend, but that's only natural seeing as we've grown up together. The characteristics we share in common pretty much end there.

Maya is gorgeous and magnetic. I consider myself to be fairly plain in looks. Maya has got the knack with the guys. I never know what to say. And the prospect of facing my father is enough to scare off any potential boyfriend. But we're friends, regardless.

I have my soldering iron in my hand (that's a tool, not a hair appliance), and my radio-to-be is sitting in my lap, but all I can think about is how much I shouldn't be here, and how much I want to be on that reconnaissance ship with my parents. Maya notices my silence and my preoccupation with this radio and decides to snap me out of it.

"So, you wanna put some on?" she asks, glancing at me with some sort of make-up wand in her hand.

I frown. "I don't wear that stuff. Doesn't suit me."

"Doesn't suit you, my ass," Maya exclaims, leaning over and pulling me onto her bed. "You just don't know how to apply it, engine girl. I'll do it."

I laugh and pull away, fighting off Maya's make-up applying hand. "Don't!"

"C'mon," she says, leaning back. "Your first night without no lame bodyguards hangin' around is a cause for celebration. You should go all out."

Maya has insisted on throwing a party tonight, and I'm very much dreading socialising. Well, she has a point about the celebration thing, but I'm just not in the mood. There's so much preening and effort that's going into this, when all I want to do is curl up in bed.

I eye Maya's make-up case suspiciously, as if her charcoals are about to attack me. I've never really been a girly-girl, but Maya seems to think she can convince me otherwise. She suddenly launches herself onto me, armed with kohl, charcoals, paints, powders and God knows what else. Ten minutes later my face is completely plastered in the stuff.

"Now take a look," Maya says, tossing me a smooth piece of metal which also serves as an improvised mirror, "I'm gonna scrape you up some clothes. We're about the same size, I think..."

"Aw, man..." I dread looking in the mirror, but I take hold of it anyway, daring a glance in the reflective surface.

And a different Apex is looking back at me. Dark, provocative eyes, silver lids, glossy lips and unruly hair. She's feminine, a young woman, and a far cry from the rough tomboy who hangs around the engineering level. Whoa. I've just about entered womanhood, and I didn't even notice.

"What do you think?" Maya asks, inclining her head slightly. She's proud of her handiwork, I can tell, but she's unsure how much I actually like it. "You can wear my black strapless to go with that, but you'll probably end up falling out of it. You could just go with a plain top, you know, and funk it up with jewellery..." she trails off as she studies me carefully, ready to catch a glimpse of any sign I'm disgusted or lying. She knows me well-enough to know I can't lie for crud.

I'm still deciding whether or not I like this new me, when a playful grin eventually spreads across my face. "Just wait till your mom gets a load of this."

I can feel the beat, the pulsating rhythm – it's throbbing in my ears, through my veins, and all over the rooms of the house. Maya's apartment is gradually filling with teenagers, chatting, laughing, and dancing. I, on the other hand, have been stalling in the kitchen with Zee up to now, deliberately steering clear of the clusters of my peers. First I helped Zee with some baking, then with the clean-up, and now I'm trying to maintain a long conversation with her in my attempt at avoiding socialising.

Unfortunately, Zee knows exactly what I'm doing, and finally halts the conversation, giving me a knowing smile. "Apex, honey, stop wasting that beautiful face on me," she grins, giving me an encouraging wink. "Get out there and talk to them."

"But I like talking to you," I insist, nervously reaching up and toying with a lock of hair.

"There's plenty of time to be talkin' to me. Go out and start chatting up some of those boys. Don't be shy, go on."

I reluctantly stand up, and leaving Zee at the kitchen table, I approach the main room to do what I've been dreading all night. Peering from the doorway into the core of the party, I watch as these young adults pulsate with life, with energy, and vitality, oblivious to my presence. A group of girls are pushing all the furniture against a wall to make a dance floor. Two guys are sculling while their friends stand around cheering them on. Maya is just about in the centre of attention, she almost appears to glow in the dim lighting. I grin as she tells a joke, sending the circle of friends around her into fits of laughter. All the girls look gorgeous and carefree, dancing alluringly, or eating delicately. All the guys are charming and witty, teasing the girls with a joke or a look, confidence seeping out of them like anything.

I don't belong here, I think to myself. This is a whole new world altogether, the lively, passionate world of youth. It's as if I have been given a window into this world: I can see into it, I know the ways of it, but I will never really be a part of it. I can almost feel my hands pressed up against the cool glass of my metaphoric window, wanting desperately to be let inside this world, but only being able to watch, isolated. A sense of loss creeps into my heart; I was robbed of my own chance of belonging before I was even born. And then my ears detect that all-too-familiar murmur.

Somebody's noticed me standing here, and the word spreads.

"Hey, isn't that Neo and Trinity's girl?"

"Apex? Yeah... I think so. She looks different."

"Yeah, it's her. What's she doin' here?"

"Is Neo around somewhere too?"

"Ha, maybe Trinity's here as well."

"Go talk to her."

"No, you go talk to her!"

I feel warmth creep into my face as my peers all stop whatever they're doing, turn to look at me, and whisper. This is the crucial moment: they're all watching me, expecting me to do something. Feeling their eager eyes bore into my skin, I cringe inside. This is my cue – I have to impress them somehow, I have to do something so incredibly inspiring, exciting and elegant that they will have no doubt that I am the daughter of the One.

So I shuffle awkwardly, cough, then quickly make my way past the dance floor, past their staring eyes, and to the temporary refreshments table, head down.

Smooth, real smooth, I think to myself scornfully, and I mentally face-palm. I snatch a drink from the table, and down it in seconds. Somehow, I will get through this night without embarrassing myself further. I feel a cool hand on my shoulder, and turn to look into Maya's chocolate brown eyes.

"Hey," she greets me, a cheeky smile tugging at her lips. "Nice entrance."

I wince. "Yeah... I need to work on that."

"Well, while you're workin' on it, there are a few people I want you to meet."

I glance behind Maya, and see two guys and one girl all watching me with equal curiosity.

"Hi," I mumble, trying my best to plaster a smile on my face. This night is going to seriously drag.

After hours of pretending to be normal, trying to chat, flirt and dance, I'm fairly sick of the party and I'm tired of the new me. So when the opportunity arises, I sneak past a tight group of dancers and slip out Zee's front door.

Night has already claimed most of Zion's citizens. No signs of people, although the city still looks very much alive. I totter carefully to the railing opposite the door, and lean against it, sighing. No matter how much I try, how much I deny, or how much I run, people are always going to treat me differently. And it's not just that, they expect things of me. Great things.

The air has grown considerably cooler and still – a welcome change from the pulsing energy inside Zee's apartment – and I relax. Slowly, I allow my body to grow slack, and I lean right against and over the railing, daring myself to look down. I'm hanging by my waist, hands clutching the metal rail tightly. As I drop my head down, I can see past my toes and into the lights of Zion below.

This city is our sanctuary. It is all we have left, our only shelter from the machines as they hunt for us, trying to ensnare every last human in order to destroy the rebellion. Sometimes I understand this war perfectly; I look at those people with plugs in their arms, backs and necks, and I know that that this is what we are fighting against. Imprisonment, ignorance, slavery; the fact that there are millions of other humans who remain mere puppets of the Matrix, trapped and unknowing. My parents have always taught me about this war, they have always emphasised the difference between the freedom of reality and confines of the Matrix, and why we must rebel against it. There are times when this makes total sense to me, when I comprehend only too well why we are fighting a seemingly endless and pointless battle.

What I don't understand is what this fight has to do with me. Well yes, my mother is considered by many as one of the greatest and most skilled Matrix operatives this world has known. And my father, well, he's the One, the unofficial leader of thousands of rebels. Believers look to my parents for faith, so I guess it's only natural that they would also perceive their offspring as a symbol of hope. But can't they see I'm no more 'superior' than anyone else?

Picture this: you're standing onstage, in the middle of some kind of performance, the spotlight's on you, and it's your turn to speak. And you know that you have to say something, but alas, you've completely forgotten your lines. So you just stand there nervously, while the audience waits in anticipation, whispering. You know that feeling you get when that happens? Well, that's the feeling I get everyday of my life as I roam Zion. I feel the eyes of believers watching my every move, trying to fathom just how exactly it is I'm going to save them. I know I'm expected to do something to save this city, or to save the millions of humans still enslaved to the Matrix. But I don't know what it is. And unfortunately, the spotlight's on me.

I hear the sharp sound of footsteps clattering across the walkway, alerting me of the fact that somebody's approaching. Assuming that it's more party guests, I quickly hide my face from view, not being in the mood to talk. I try my best to look remote and unfriendly, but in spite of this the sound of footsteps grows louder, and I catch the flicker of a person's shadow in the corner of my eye.

The figure's hand reaches out and traces its way across my bare arm. "Hey," a sinister voice hisses.

I spin around, fists poised to punch, when the figure stumbles away from striking range and across a brightly lit area of the walkway.

"Tech!" I shout, genuinely shocked, and I drop my fists by my sides. "You scared the shit out of me! What the hell are you doing?"

Tech gives me that cocky grin of his, putting his hands to his mouth in an overly-feminine manner, mocking my astonishment. "Shit, it's Apex!" he exclaims, feigning surprise. "And there I was, thinking I was about to score with some incredibly hot stranger."

I take a swipe at him, then a grin creeps onto my face. "Incredibly hot, am I?"

He gives a short embarrassed laugh, then points to my hair and makeup. "What's with all this?"

I touch my face lightly, accidentally smudging some of the powder Maya so diligently applied. "Maya," I explain simply.

"Oh." Tech glances back towards the apartment door, then takes a place beside me on the railing. "What are you doing out here?"

I shrug. "Hiding."

"Thought so. Gettin' down isn't exactly your thing, huh?"

I roll my eyes at him, but can't help giving a smile. "Right. And what are you doing here?"

Tech shifts a little, keeping his eyes focused on the lights below. After a moment's silence, he delicately says, "Cable told me your parents left with that investigation fleet this morning. I've been looking everywhere for you. You weren't home, you weren't down at engineering level, so I figured you'd be staying with Maya." I don't answer, replying instead by nodding slightly, keeping my head bowed.

Cable is Tech's older brother, who spends most of his time working at the docking bays of Zion, or aboard various rescue ships. He actually holds a pretty high rank, and is qualified to command any of the salvage vessels. So naturally, Cable would know immediately if my parents were aboard any of the reconnaissance ships that departed today. I can only imagine the buzz surrounding that.

Tech finally glances at me, watching my face carefully. "You ok?"

I nod again, asking, "What else does Cable know?"

"Well, the details of the mission were kept pretty private. Something about the Matrix, obviously, but Cable's not really sure what. What he does know is that they set off with a fleet of five ships, but only four are bound for broadcast depth, the fifth one is going to be a communications relay. The ship your parents are on is one of the four, the Amaunet. Oh hey, you should see that thing!" he suddenly exclaims, eyes gleaming and hands gesturing wildly. "I've never seen a hovercraft so..."

I send him an impatient look, and he trails off sheepishly. "Apex, look, I'm sure they'll be fine," Tech assures me, speaking surprisingly gently for his usually rowdy self. "That ship can handle anything the world can dish, Morpheus seems to know everything about anything, and your dad's the One, for cryin' out loud. Chill."

"I know, I know," I reply, my hair flopping to one side of my head as I flex my neck. "I'm worried, that's all. I mean I just can't shake this feeling... well, I – I had this dream and..." Tech narrows his eyes quizzically, in a what-the-hell-are-you-talking-about? look. He waits for me to continue, but I drop the subject. "Forget it. It's not important."

He raises his eyebrows. "It's not?"

I hesitate. "... No."

But it is important, and Tech knows it. Even though he does come across as reckless and brash, Tech can tell when I'm upset, and he knows when not to cross the line. Instead of prying as to how I feel, he falls silent, and quietly touches my shoulder.

"I just don't want anything to happen to them." As soon as that sentence leaves my mouth, I realise my oversight, and a wave of shame rises in my throat. Like me, Tech is a free-born child of two Matrix-born parents. Like me, Tech's parents worked aboard a reconnaissance ship. The difference here is that when Tech was eight, the ship his parents were on went down during a sentinel attack. They were both killed.

Shit. I never know what to say when I touch upon this taboo subject, and now is no exception.

So I stammer. "Tech, I – I'm sorry, I didn't mean-"

He cuts me off, shaking his head with a sad smile. "You don't have to do that."

I exhale sharply, unsure of what to say next, and scared that if I do speak I'll stutter anyway. So I nod once again and allow the smallest of smiles to cross my face.

"Know what? We should go to the engineering level."

Tech gives me an incredulous stare. "Dressed like that? Won't you break a nail or something?"

"I'll break you!"

He finally gives me that carefree grin once again, pulling away from the railing. "Alright. Let's go."

This room of steel is not so remarkable – cold, unyielding; the tall authoritative walls are reminiscent of a prison cell, and its only feature is the quadrilateral iron table which stands in the centre.

However, this is the Location; the Matrix-hosted underground meeting place unconsciously decided upon by every rebel force of Zion. It is here that strategies for battle are born, where many a proposal for breaking the rules of Zion commanders has come forward, and negotiations regarding those still imprisoned with the Matrix are conferred. Here all rebels unite, all captains are one; merging to amplify the power they hold against their enemy. These walls know many secrets of Zion's freedom fighters, their ships and their crew.

Here stands four captains, four teams. One goal. Those target to being unplugged are being eliminated at an alarmingly frightening pace, and these crews are searching for answers.

"I still can't understand what motive the machines would have for doing this," one of the younger crewmembers, Kali, states, shaking her head.

Captain Ballad of the Caduceus answers quickly. "By eliminating potential targets, they are slowly starving our city of growth."

"Yes, but at the same time they're reducing their own source of fuel – us. Why would they do that? It doesn't exactly seem like a win-win situation here."

Morpheus answers that, and the whole room falls still to listen to the words that pour from his mouth. "But it is, Kali. Out of the entire population of the Matrix, those who are ready to be unplugged remain a minority. Those whom we would not consider ready to be unplugged stay unharmed, living on within the Matrix, oblivious," he adds, raising his chin slightly for emphasis.

Captain Niobe, who is often ready to challenge Morpheus, either for her own amusement or because she needs to prove his caprices wrong, angles her head towards her former lover, saying, "And, how do you intend to stop this, Morpheus? Zion has only granted us a small fleet until the situation progresses to critical. By that time, the answers may have slipped beyond our reach. We need to act now – how do you propose we start?"

Morpheus returns her gaze confidently, raising a single sly brow. "At the beginning. Where we must always start." He turns his head to fix his eyes on the rest of the fleet, particularly that of his own crew, Neo and Trinity. "We will consult the Oracle."

There is a sudden silence, followed by several gasps of surprise, disbelief or dismay.

"My God Morpheus, this is no time for your pipe dreams. We need to act, not stand around trying to solve riddles!"

"No, he's right, the Oracle must hold the answers."

"And if she doesn't? ... Exactly my point. It's a waste of our time, and there are lives at stake!"

However amid the heated disputing, Neo remains silent, arms crossed behind his back. He knows Morpheus is right: the Oracle is to be consulted if they were going to get any answers, no matter how enigmatic they may be. And he would be the one to do it.

A/N: You know how the Wachowski bros gave all their characters names for certain reasons? Well, so did I. If you don't really care, skip this, but if you're interested, here are the names of my characters and what they mean:

Apex: The highest point (i.e. of a mountain ); peak or summit.

Tech: As in technology, high-tech, technical. Yep, he's a mechanics whiz. I was real creative on that one! (facepalms)

Nokomis (the storyteller): North American Indian, "Grandmother" or Mother of the Sacred Earth.

The Hermes (a random ship): the Greek 'messenger' God who digs winged sandals.

Cable (Tech's bro): Yep, as in a cable. A cord or wire-esque device that transmits electricity. Well, it sounded good at the time!

Maya (Link and Zee's daughter): Indian (Hindu) goddess, name means 'illusion'. Maya is said to create the ignorance of the individual self.

The Amaunet (a random ship): Egyptian goddess whose name means 'hidden one' and whose shadow is a symbol of protection.

Kali (random crewmember): Creative/destructive Indian goddess, protector of women.

Ballard (random captain): I think he was off Reloaded, but feel free to shoot spitballs at me if I'm wrong.

The Caduceus(a random ship): Ballard's ship. Dunno what it means.