Bzzt... BZZZZT... Bzzzzz...

I rattle the com-link in frustration, raising it higher in the air while standing on my tiptoes in my effort to get a clear signal.

Bzzzt... ZZZZ...

"Damn it!" I mutter, bringing the radio back down to eye-level and examining it closely. What did I do wrong? I rehashed its original circuit system, I repaired the damage to the inputs, and even my soldering was spot-on. This thing should be working like a charm.

I hold the mouthpiece of the radio to my lips experimentally, activating it with the press of a button. "Um, hello? Hello...?"

More buzzing ensues, and I groan again, wondering if radio signals are blocked in this area of the city. I've been missing from Zee's place long enough for her to become alarmed, but I've no intention of returning until I can get my radio to work. In my quest I wandered past the residential complexes to an area closer to the docking bay, and now I've found myself in a maze of tunnels and corridors. I guess they're used for worker transit and cargo shipping, but at the moment I haven't encountered a single person here.

I alter the settings of the radio impatiently, setting the frequency lower. This reduces the static somewhat, and I even recognise an English word or two being spoken, but the sound soon fades. I sigh, and suddenly catch the sound of gentle laughter from behind me.

Spinning around, I spy a man I don't recognise – perhaps in his early twenties – standing with his hands slung loosely in his pockets and an odd grin on his face. I don't trust him, and my intuition immediately sets off alarm bells in my head. There's something inherently menacing about this guy, whether it's his twisted smile, his unkempt ash-brown hair which is growing out of a crew cut, or the fact that he seems to have materialised out of nowhere.

I narrow my eyes at him suspiciously, waiting for him to speak.

"Having trouble with your toy, sister?" he asks, and I glare at him as if he just made a lewd remark.

"No," I reply firmly, turning around to walk in the opposite direction. But to my horror he follows me, just at a slower pace.

"Where's your mom and dad?" he questions from behind, and his husky voice suddenly reminds me of the low creaks of a rusty machine.

My mom and dad? What? I turn back around slowly, looking him up and down. One of his hands is still in his pocket, and my eyes fix firmly on that pocket as I answer. "None of your business, okay?"

He laughs again, only it's not the pleasant sound that laughter should be. "Ah, the angry guardedness of your mother. I swear, you're a carbon copy of her, Apex."

Alright, that's it. He obviously knows who I am. "Who the hell are you? And what kind of a word is 'guardedness'?"

The guy gives me a wide grin, ignoring the latter question. "You can call me Talon, sis."

"Talon," I repeat sceptically. "Right. Now stop following me."

I turn my back to him and pick up my pace, but Talon keeps up with me effortlessly. "What, you scared of me?"

I grit my teeth angrily, especially irritated because I really am afraid of him. "No!" I bite back indignantly. "But you're really, really annoying me. Leave me alone!"

"Oh, don't get upset now. I just want to talk."

I glance at Talon through the corner of my eye, noticing that his same hand is still in resting his pocket. I halt in my tracks, facing him and sticking my chin in the air. "Okay," I reply slowly, "Let go of whatever it is you're hiding in your jacket first, Talon."

He raises his brows, almost impressed, then leisurely removes the object from within his pocket with exaggerated slowness. It's a dull razor – my heart pace quickens as he holds it up between thumb and forefinger for me to see.

"Relax," Talon laughs, cocking his head to the side. "I've got no intention of harming you, Apex." He casually drops the razor back into his pocket, leaving his hands where I can see them.

"Yeah sure," I mutter. You just happen to carry a blade around to touch up that shaving stubble, right?

I eye him cautiously, making sure that I stay out of his striking range as I circle him like a vulture. During my scrutinising, I notice the telltale metal plugs adorning Talon's bare arms and neck.

"You're a Matrix-born," I state.

He answers with a casual, "Mm-hmm. And you're Neo's kid."

I'm too suspicious to answer this – either this man is another fanatical the One follower (in which case I would have to get away from him quickly as possible) or he's just some creep who follows any seventeen-year-old girl around these tunnels (in which case I am in a lot of trouble). Either way my comfort levels have been well-exceeded. My fight-or-flight instinct mentally tosses up between punching Talon out, or just getting the hell out of here. I grip my radio tightly, wondering if I could use it to call for help or even as a weapon.

"So, you're gonna save the world, huh?" he asks sarcastically, and for a moment I forget my fears as my argumentative side comes into play.

"What? Look, just because of who my parents are, doesn't mean I have anything to do with–"

"Actually, that's exactly what it means, sister. You're the next saviour in line, right? It's in your blood."

I clench my fists. I've been in this debate many times before. "No, my Dad's abilities have nothing to do with genetics. If there is a next One, they're going to be discovered inside the Matrix, not here. And," I add, pulling the sleeve of my jumper up to expose my arm. "I'm just a regular human. If I can't enter the Matrix, how can I go around 'saving the world'?"

"Oh, I'm sure you'll find a way," Talon says nonchalantly, waving his hand in a dismissive gesture as I stare crossly at him. This overconfident young man seems to be a strange mixture of sinister looks, an arrogant attitude and peculiar behaviour. But before I can speculate any further, he suddenly clamps a firm hand on my shoulder, almost causing me to jump three metres into the air.

"I'll be seeing you," he hisses, grinning in that twisted way once more, and then stalking off in the opposite direction.

It's all I can do to stand there, gaping at Talon's retreating form, not knowing whether I have just made an ally or an enemy.

As Neo's boots crunch along the frost-coated walkway, he can't help allowing his mind roam back to the many memories formed within this lavish – if simulated – park. The blanket of white snow covering the landscape elicits recollections of roast turkey dinners, Christmas lights, tobogganing, and many failed attempts of building a snowman. An unwitting smile crosses Neo's face as he remembers snowball fights, Christmas carols, ice-skating, and eagerly ripping open the colourful packages huddled beneath the family Christmas tree.

As his gaze wanders, he spies the stalactitical icicles swaying slightly from a bare tree branch in the breeze; and for a brief moment he imagines them clinking together in a melodic tune. But Neo is quick to remind himself that this world – no matter how magical, how beautiful or how creative it may be – is not real. It is an illusion of the mind, a virtual reality, an artificial world. It is what he is fighting against.

And she is around somewhere in this picturesque illusion, Neo is sure of it. The frosted path leads past an abandoned playground, winding through the snow-covered pine trees, until it guides the One to a lake; long since transformed by the season into an ice-skating rink. Shrieks of delight can be heard as children skim across the solid surface of the ice, skates clattering noisily. Neo pauses for a moment, watching the children dart across the ice while clad in snow-gear, when from the corner of his eyes he spots the figure he has been looking for.

Seated on a dull green bench beside the lake, gazing serenely at the ice-skaters, rests the Oracle. The all-knowing; she who sees beyond the restraints of time. She is wrapped tightly in many layers of colourful clothing, the most noticeable of these being the woollen hat that is pulled tightly over her salt-and-pepper hair. Although the Oracle doesn't return Neo's gaze, he is confident that she is aware of his presence.

"You know what I love about this time of year?" she suddenly asks, angling her head faintly to rest her gaze upon Neo.

Neo shakes his head, asking, "What?"

The Oracle gives a broad smile, digging carelessly into her leather handbag and pulling out a red-and-white striped candy cane. "The treats of the season," she answers, and unwraps the colourful sweet almost eagerly. "There's nothing like a candy cane to lift one's spirits. I'd offer you one. But you're not going to eat it."

"You're right," Neo agrees, taking a seat beside the wise elder. "I won't. I don't like them."

The Oracle gives a soft but perceptive smile. "I know."

"And you'll also know why I am here," Neo persists.

For a moment the statement goes unanswered as the Oracle nibbles on her candy, her eyes refocusing on the young skaters. Suddenly she breaks her own silence with, "How's your daughter?"

Neo is clearly startled by the question, and repeats the Oracles words carefully. "My daughter?"

The Oracle arches her brows in an amused expression, saying, "You should know by now that there isn't a lot that gets past me."

Noticing the meeting isn't going in the direction he planned, Neo chooses to bypass the question and abruptly change the subject. "What is happening to the targets? The potentials, who are ready to be set free. What's happening to them?"

"The targets," the Oracle repeats, "those who harbour the potential to realise the truth." She exhales, eliciting a stream of frost, then waves her candy cane in the air like a policeman waving a baton.

"They are being hunted, Neo, they are being eliminated. And this will continue to happen."

"But why?" Neo continues, "Who is doing this? How can we stop them?"

Each question fires off Neo's tongue like bullets, but bounces harmlessly off the Oracle, as she sits in quiet thought.

"They are called the Seekers," she explains, and Neo almost catches a hint of dourness in her voice as she continues. "Programs designed solely to seek those with the potential to realise the truth."

"Agents," Neo says, nodding.

"No," she laughs, the sound unexpected and unwelcome in light of the seriousness of their conversation. "Not Agents. They are uncannily similar to an Agent program, but there are also vast differences. Seekers can occupy many forms, but unlike the Agents, they can imitate any figure they have seen. Their shape adaptation relies only on vision, not on whether or not the subject is hardwired to their system."

"You mean they can... imitate... those that have already been freed as well? Rebels?"

The Oracle looks at Neo, her facial features twisted into an expression of grim insight. "Yes. It is a powerful thing, to be able to mimic one's form."

"Seekers," Neo murmurs, brows knitting together in a frown. "Well, why would just they kill every potential? The Agents always tried to convert potentials to their cause first – before bugging them."

"Looks like these programs have tired of negotiations, Neo. They have been created to bring the Resistance to an end, forever. And I fear their task may come to pass."

From behind the tinted lens of his sunglasses, Neo frowns questioningly at the Oracle. He has never heard her express herself in that way before. I fear their task may come to pass. The Oracle never feared, for she always knew. Did that mean this time, she didn't know? That this thread of the future was dangling beyond her reach, invisible? Or was there something else she could see?

"We won't let that happen," Neo states strongly. "I won't let that happen."

From the ice-skating rink comes a squawk of outrage, as one little girl is tripped by an older sibling and lands flat on her face. As the brother and sister engage in a hasty chasing game, screeching at each other, the Oracle watches with distant amusement, before saying, "You never answered my question about your daughter."

Neo straightens up defensively as memories of his nightmare come floating back to him. "Apex... she's fine. Almost grown-up."

"Ah yes. On the brink of womanhood. What I would give to be at that stage now." The Oracle's gentle and nostalgic chuckle quickly turns into a darker, graver tone. "And... how have you been sleeping?"

A cold surge of realization flows from Neo's heart and exits via his skin pores. He gets to his feet, towering over the still-seating Oracle as if to scold her. "What is that supposed to mean?"

The Oracle is unfazed by his hostile reply, meeting his defensive stare square in the eyes. Neo sighs, and for an instant the calm mask slips as the hopelessness he felt in his dream surfaces.

"Listen kiddo," the Oracle begins as Neo once again takes a seat, "I know a little somethin' about precognition, obviously. Omens, prophecies, foretelling dreams... I've seen it all. And take it from me, there's no sense in denying what you know is to come. If you're standing in front of an oncoming train, do you turn your back and pretend the impact won't happen? If you wake up in a room full of smoke, do you shut your eyes tight, hope for the best, and go back to sleep?"

Neo croaks the answer, his throat fast becoming dry. "No."

"Of course not. When the signs point towards an outcome, when the warnings are present, they call for action, not denial. Instead of refusing to consider the very possibility of that outcome, you should be preparing for it."

"What are you saying?" Neo asks, his voice involuntarily becoming strident. "That there's nothing I can do? Or that I can change what I saw?"

"You know the answer to that," she replies, the arch of her brows suddenly stooping low into an expression of scrutiny.

Do I? A voice in Neo's mind asks. Inwardly, he struggles with the answer, and finally voices the question which has been haunting him for days. "What does the Matrix have to do with my daughter?"

"More than you can ever imagine," is the Oracle's cryptic reply, and judging by the furtive yet difficult to read smile that flickers across her face, Neo guesses he isn't getting any more clarification on the matter, no matter how he persists. It is something that unsettles him greatly.

Aboard the Amaunet, Morpheus and Neo sit attentively in front of the active computer screens, studying the green cascades of codes with obvious concentration. Although none of their crew is presently in the Matrix, there is another reason for their absorption with the Matrix feed. They watch as a potential – a young man who goes by day as Chris O'Keefe, by night as the elusive hacker Loki – walks casually through a shopping centre, smoking a cigarette and clad in black. The crew of the Amaunet have been watching Loki's movements for days, having noticed that this young man is on the very brink of discovering the truth of his 'existence'.

Neo watches as Loki stops outside an ordinary-looking telecommunications outlet, and crushes the cigarette with the heel of his boot. Loki enters the store in confident strides, however instead of showing interest in the software displayed towards the front of the store, he makes his way towards the back storeroom, where the illegal software is deposited.

Morpheus suddenly looks away from the scene, stretches, and flexes his hands until a cracking is heard.

"The Oracle didn't say what a Seeker looks like?"

Neo doesn't take his eyes off the screen as he answers. "All she said was that they can assume a lot of forms. I guess that doesn't help."

The corners of Morpheus' lips parallel the movements of that of his brows, as he gives a slight grin, turning his gaze fully towards the One. "I suppose not. Perhaps a better approach would be to monitor a potential from within the Matrix. That way we could better perceive and intervene should any danger approach."

Neo finally takes his eyes off Loki, thoughtful eyes meeting Morpheus'. "Yeah," Neo assents, the green glow of the screen emphasising the tired lines resting along his face. "We'll do that."

The two are interrupted by the clatter of footsteps on the walkway above, and suddenly the compact form of Trinity appears as she leans down from the metal railing, her torn grey jumper hanging loosely from her arms.

"Morpheus," she calls, "We got a signal coming in from the Gnosis. You'd better come up here and listen to this."

Without questioning the female warrior, Neo and Morpheus exchange a glance, then follow Trinity. Swinging up the sturdy iron ladder, the three clamber their way to the cockpit where Link is busy decoding a signal from the Gnosis.

"You guys ought to take a look at this," Link says with barely a glance over his shoulder, fingers clattering away at the control board.

Morpheus takes his seat beside the pilot, activating the communication link with a flick of a switch.

"This is Captain Ice of the Gnosis, requesting status report. Repeat, requesting status report."

Morpheus gives a slight frown. The Gnosis is a communications relay craft, designed to transmit reports from this investigation fleet to Zion, and in turn send orders from Zion control to the hovercrafts. However, none of the hovercrafts are due for a status report for weeks. In spite of this peculiarity, Morpheus responds.

"Ice, this is Morpheus. We have identified a target, are currently monitoring. No inside reconnaissance has commenced as of this point."

"I see. Do you have the name of the target?"

Link and Morpheus meet each other's gaze, and both narrow their eyes.

"Yes. The name is Loki," Morpheus answers, the suspicion well-hidden but still present.

"Acknowledged. Disengaging, over."

The communication is cut off, and Link leans back in his chair, exhaling loudly. "Why the hell did they want to know the target's name?"

Morpheus is still staring at the communication link, as if it will give him the answers. "I don't know," he answers slowly, his eyes distant and wary. "I don't know."

My parents have been gone so long that my brain has stopped measuring time properly.

I no longer differentiate between days, weeks or even months; now I tend to measure time in terms of chronological major events: Maya's party, meeting Talon, the Liberty Festival, that day Tech and I went nick-knocking on one residential level and left spitfires on people's doorsteps... The boring days when nothing happens just drift pass and disappear from my memory altogether, like wisps of smoke. They aren't important, so my mind doesn't count them.

Whenever I'm not at Zee's or bugging the workers down at the engineering level, I head down to the docks to see if I can try and find Cable. I know that if the investigation fleet my parents are on send Zion any kind of status report, Cable will be one of the first to find out. Hence, every opportunity I get, I sprint down to the docks, hunt Cable down and ask him if there's any news of the Amaunet. I've done this a good forty-two times, but still no word.

Today I've decided to stay at Zee's, much to her relief. Maya, Zee and I are eating lunch when suddenly Cas bursts inside, flustered and breathless. Zee is immediately by her sister-in-law's side, leaping forward to catch her, and Maya and I look on as Zee grips Cas by the shoulders telling her to breathe, and breathe again. Finally Cas can speak and her eyes grow clearer; she looks up at Zee with distress written across her face.

"The Gnosis is down," is all Cas says at first, and for a moment I'm terrified that Tech somehow made a mistake and the Gnosis is the ship that my parents, Morpheus and Link are on, not the Amaunet.

"What?" Zee's face clearly mirrors my thoughts, but she frowns and says, "Wait, the Gnosis? That's the hovercraft Ice was in charge of. What about the others? What about the Amaunet?"

"They don't know! That's the worst part, the Gnosis was the fleet's communications and supplies relay. Now that they're down, any contact with the rest of the fleet has been cut."

Oh Jesus Christ, I think to myself, trying not to let the panic kick in. Please let them be okay.

I feel Maya grip my arm, and can sense the terror emitting from her body, the fear for her father's safety.

"Link," Zee murmurs softly, more to herself than anyone else. The apartment is bathed in an unbearable silence, when Zee asks hesitantly, "What about Ice? What about her crew? Were there any survivors?"

Cas glances uncertainly at Maya and I, as if she thinks we're too young to hear what she has to say. At last she settles with speaking in a hushed tone, secretly hoping Maya and I won't hear. "No survivors. It was a Sentinel attack. The Gnosis got away and used the EMP, but in doing so they stranded themselves in a narrow sewer. The whole craft was disabled, they couldn't even send a distress signal." Cas falls into a whisper, "You know, they say that the ship might have been trapped for weeks. Their supplies were gone. Ice and her crew... they froze to death."

"Oh my God," Zee gasps, looking down at her lap. "But, if they were trapped for that long, wouldn't some of the other ships have come looking?"

Cas' brows slant in such a way it looks as though she's about to cry. "Yes."

"So if they didn't come looking..."

I don't want to hear any more. I jump up abruptly from the table, pushing past Maya and running out the door.

As soon as I reach the engineering level, I sprint to the Q-Section, where most of the major power appliances are located. Here I reach one of the thousands of colossal air generators, and launch myself onto the access ladder. I climb higher and higher, until I safely reach the top of the generator. Pulling myself onto the top of the machine, I take a brief look heavenward, then I finally collapse onto my side, curling up into a ball and burying my head in my arms.

No, no, no. This is not happening.

I grit my teeth, refusing to cry, and deep inside myself I feel flames of anger and hatred swell and inflate, like a rubber balloon. Ghostlike voices float through my mind, and I can't distinguish between remnants of past conversations, and figments of my own imagination.

The Gnosis is down...

Any contact with the rest of the fleet has been cut...

Wouldn't some of the other ships have come looking?

Unless the others are down as well...

Where's your mom and dad, sister?

They're gone, they're all gone...

Promise you're coming back! Promise!

We won't leave you behind...

My body throws itself into an upright position, and I clutch my head in my hands, clenching my fingers so tightly I can feel the strain on my hair. Shock is a powerful thing – it can take control of your body and mind with equal strength, making you hear things that aren't there and do things you probably shouldn't. When there is even a slight possibility that your family – all that you have ever known, all that you have ever belonged to – have been ripped away from you forever, everything else around you collapses. Love, concern, anger and anguish all become one, and your mind plummets into a vortex of turmoil.

I close my eyes tightly. Shut up! Just shut up! I scream in my mind, until every voice is silenced.

I rock myself back and forth, breathing heavily and willing myself to calm down. I drag myself forward until I'm sitting precariously close to the edge of this air generator. As I swing my legs I catch quick glimpses of what lies below, and for a moment I'm distracted as my eyes wander curiously over the edge of the generator. Beneath this air generator, at a huge six hundred metre drop, lie red hot coals – the fringes of the Earth's core – one of the city's many sources of fuel. If I fall one way, I'll land on the iron bridge that spans the drop and be killed upon impact. If I fall another way, I'll plummet into the scorching hot coals.

I don't know how long I remain on my perch atop this generator, dazed, trapped in some kind of trance. Maybe I've been here five minutes, maybe thirty. All the while I plead and pray with whatever superior being is out there to bring my parents back. I envision the faces of my father, my mother, Morpheus and Link respectively, hoping against hope that they will all be brought safely back home. And Maya and Zee – how must they feel? Did I even speak to Maya before I left, did I offer her support for her own anxiety and fear like a real friend should have? Or did I just flee, running away like I've been doing all my life?

I breathe again, trying to clear my head. Not even the groans and hisses of the machines around me can bring me out of my trance, as I stare, hope and pray.

Tech comes racing up to me as I'm wandering along the main walkway, waving his arms around and yelling incoherent words. He's so jittery, excited and animated that at first I want to slap the taste out of his mouth for daring to interrupt my reverie with his idiocies. I glare at him as he practically jumps up and down on the spot, trying to tell me something but being too out of breath to do so.

"What the hell is wrong with you?" I snap, immediately regretting the harsh tone of my voice but not being able to stop myself. "I'm not in the mood Tech, okay?"

He shakes his head, grabbing me by the shoulders before I can step around him. "No, no listen!" he exclaims. "I can get you to the Amaunet!"

I stare at him in stunned silence. "What?"

Tech continues, barely pausing for that much-needed breath as the words tumble from his mouth. "Apex, I heard about the Gnosis, and I know how you must feel – and I'm really sorry I jumped you like that – but there's not a lot of time so just listen, alright?" I nod weakly, even though the barrage of words is starting to vaguely scare me. "Zion control is sending two salvage and rescue craft after the fleet. The first one, the Crusader, is the one that found the Gnosis. The Crusader radioed for backup in order to trace the rest of the fleet, so Zion's sending a second ship. Apex, my brother is piloting that second ship. He said that if we're quick, he'll let us aboard for the flight! We can find the ship your parents are on!"

My eyes grow round with incredulity, as I ask, stammering, "Wha... my parents? Cable... is letting me... on his ship?"

"Yes," Tech hisses impatiently, and suddenly I'm being hauled by the wrist through the honeycomb of passages in the engineering level. "But we gotta hurry! Come on!"

Tech breaks into a run, and I have to sprint to keep up with him. "But Tech – Zee and Maya... I can't just leave, I have to tell them! Why can't we-"

"No time!" Tech cuts me off breathlessly, "The ship's leaving in three minutes!"

Three minutes?!

"Tech," I gasp, horrified, "Tell me you're kidding!"

The hasty yank on my arm tells me otherwise. "Move it, Apex!"

He's a man of action, Tech. You have to give him that.

Tech and I make a wild beeline for the docks, fuelled by adrenaline and willpower. Feet slamming against the rickety iron walkways, together we burst inside the service elevator and simultaneously launch ourselves towards the control panel, stabbing the correct buttons with our forefingers. The doors slam shut and the elevator makes its painfully slow ascent, as Tech and I gather what little breath and thoughts we have.

Cable's taking us on his rescue ship! I can find the Amaunet! I can find my parents, Link, and Morpheus! The darker side of me whispers that I may not be finding them alive, but I quickly stomp the thought away, only concentrating on gathering enough energy to sprint the rest of the way to the docks.

As the doors slide open, Tech and I give synchronized cries of dismay – standing between us and the channel leading down to the docks of Zion, is a mass of people. It's food ration day for the east side, and upon hearing the arrival of the elevator, each member of the throng turns towards the source of the noise and recognises me.

"Oh, shit," Tech murmurs, as the crowd begins to surge towards us in an unbelievably fast, harmonized movement.

"Run!" I yell, shoving Tech forward as a human shield against the advancing crowd.

The living blockade scatters frantically as it is met head-on with a volatile Tech, who throws his arms in front of him, palms forward, using them shove people out of the way. Despite the sheer size and power of the crowd, everybody makes an effort to jump out of Tech's path. I think I speak for everyone in Zion when I say you wouldn't ever want to get in Tech's way when he's in one of these hyperactive, strong-minded moods. Sometimes you can almost see a glint of mad determination in his eyes that you would only ever see in a dangerous, homicidal maniac. That's something people generally don't want to clash with.

"Sorry! S'cuse me!" he barks as people either leap or are pushed out of our way. "In a hurry here! Sorry lady! The One Junior, comin' through! Part, please!"

I stifle a wave of giggles at Tech's unruly performance as we duck and weave through the crowd, racing frenziedly down one of the major passageways of Zion's centre. Together we stampede past stunned citizens, past the corridor leading to the Councillor High Court, past an abandoned (and empty) weapons cart, and at long last we reach the vast docks of Zion.

"This way!" Tech seems to know where he's going, and from here he leads me straight to the dispatch zone, ignoring a worker who tries to ask us for some sort of authorisation permits. We run off, paying no attention to the wroker's shouts of annoyance; together Tech and I zigzag through repairmen, deckhands, salvaged cargo and rusty ship parts, until finally, we draw to a halt in front of a small rescue hovercraft.

"This is it," Tech explains, pointing towards the faint print along the side of the salvage vessel.

The Phoenix. I squint at the fading print, having no idea what this name means, when Tech gives a shout of greeting to somebody leaning from the entry hatch.

"Tech, Apex!" comes the no-nonsense adult voice I've come to recognise as Cable's. I crane my neck to see Tech's older brother standing above, the traces of a rare smile upon his lips. "Get up here, you delinquents."

Tech gives a yelp of mock outrage, and charges up the access ramp with me in tow. I just grin, giving Cable a grateful, "Thanks for this!", as he leads us inside, the hatch sealing shut with a hiss behind us.

This hovercraft is very different to the major crafts I've seen and been on. Because the Phoenix is designed for search, rescue and salvage only, it isn't equipped with monitors displaying Matrix-feed, or insertion chairs for jacking in. I'm guessing most areas of the ship are allocated for medical bays, and while walking along I spy a tiny kitchen/meeting room, a morgue-like storage room, and a few cabins.

I turn my attention to Cable, and I study him from behind as he leads us towards the cockpit for takeoff, he and Tech exchanging the occasional remark. At first glance there's no mistaking these two are brothers – despite an eight-year age difference, Tech and Cable share the same spiky blonde hair, same olive-brown, rough skin, the same grin and the same laugh. But for the most part it seems they couldn't be any more different. Like fire and water, Tech and Cable have their similarities, each of equal importance and value, neither one more or less important. But ultimately, they are each other's polar opposite, destined to stand on opposite ends of the equation forever. Like yin and yang, good and evil (not that one of them is evil).

Cable is hardened and standoffish; pessimistic, analytical and stern. He can be extremely intimidating, but he's always made an effort to be gentle with me, because I'm Tech's best friend, and therefore can be trusted. After the loss of his parents at sixteen, Cable worked incredibly hard to raise Tech, and sometimes I see an old man in his face; the long sad years are etched too early in his eyes. He's careful, diplomatic, always warily testing the waters before taking a swim. Cable frowns upon trivial things like pranks, mischief and dares, and it's a very rare occasion when he actually makes a joke of his own.

Tech, on the other hand, is a smart ass, with quick wits, lovable cynicism, and brash tactlessness. To the outside world, he's a typical self-assured eighteen-year-old, always on his toes, always reckless, feelings and impulses winning over everything. Tech is careless, oblivious of things like consequences, punishment or cost. He lives on adrenaline, he feeds on it – he breathes it. While Cable likes to live life at a cautious, plodding pace, Tech is drawn to the unpredictable ideas of danger and excitement like a moth to the flame. And that's only part of why I'm just about addicted to him.

The three of us reach the cockpit, where the rest of Cable's crew are already seated, ready for departure. Cable tells me his crew is made up of two experienced doctors, one co-pilot/defence specialist, and one repairs woman. The four of them are already seated, and as Cable, Tech and I enter, a young Asian woman glances over her shoulder to give me a curious look. The rest remain facing forward, disciplined and calm, readily awaiting Cable's command.

Cable motions for Tech and I to take the seats alongside the very back wall of the cockpit, far out of reach of the controls and far enough away from the crew as not to annoy anyone. Smart move, I think, noticing Tech's disappointed frown. As we strap ourselves in, Cable takes his place at the head of the ship, and for a moment I feel a twinge of guilt for disappearing on Zee and Maya like this. Then I think of my parents; I visualise the faces of my father and mother. I imagine arriving at their ship just in time to save all their lives, and my guilt is gone. I am doing the right thing. I'm going to find them.

Activating the link between the Phoenix and Zion control, I listen vaguely as Cable requests permission to leave, and he powers up the ship as the Phoenix is cleared for departure. I brace myself as the engines fire up, and the ship commences the first stages of takeoff. Our surroundings shudder slightly, when suddenly... the power's lost.

The status monitors go blank, and I sit up questioningly, looking around. The rest of the passengers seem to be acquainted with this, each crewmember staring idly at the wall or out the viewing port. Must just be a regular but minor malfunction.

Cable fires up the engines a second time, and this time the vertical thrusters activate with no problem. I brace myself once more, when yet again, the engines fail.

I hear Tech give a snort beside me, and an irresistible grin creeps across my face as I stretch my neck to look over at Cable.

"Should I get out and push?" I quip, raising an eyebrow as both Tech and I burst into laughter.

Suddenly, the thrusters trigger with such power that Tech and I are thrown backwards from the momentum, slamming hard against the back wall. "Whoa!" Tech exclaims.

The engines fire, the system draws enough power, and the Phoenix lifts effortlessly into the air just like any other hovercraft would. It's Cable's turn to laugh now, giving us both a knowing look over his shoulder. "You guys might wanna hang on." Tech and I do just that, as the hovercraft exits the docks and begins its journey through the preliminary channels outside Zion, speeding recklessly.

After a while Tech nudges me with his elbow, saying, "See? We'll find your parents in no time. And a joyride's always a good thing."

I nod in reply, returning his enthusiastic grin. I'm not sure if this was the wisest course of action, but it certainly feels like a good idea now. I'll have a lot of explaining to do if we find the Amaunet and my parents are fine, and I'll also have to find some way of relaying a message back to Zee and Maya, telling them I'm safe. But none of that matters now, all that matters is that I'm on a quest to find – and if necessary, save – my parents.

Mom, Dad, I'm coming. I can't wait to see you.

Thank you so much for your reviews! I really appreciate the feedback and questions. :) Have a cookie.