J.M.J.
Under the Gun
by "Matrix Refugee"
Author's Note:
Sorry for the deplorable delay: I've been having some really bad problems with my computer: spyware bugs messed it up, so I had to have the software reloaded, and even after that, this screwy machine still isn't working quite right, so I was loathing sitting down at the keyboard each day for a while there... But I managed to finish writing this story: the last chapter will be posted next week!
But first, a few words of thanks to all my reviewers and patient readers:
To Yar Kramer: I didn't expect Smith to show up either, but I think his cameo will serve an interesting purpose to this narrative...
To Oshika Kogo: I am sooo very sorry it took me this long to update, but my computer caught some horrible spyware bugs, so I had to get it fixed, then reinstall my Internet software... it took me almost three weeks to get back online, then summer intervened... I'll have the next chapter posted next week (I did a lot of writing while the comp was being repaired).
To Argent Inluminai: Ugh, I hear you about PC problems! When this comp finally kicks the bucket, I am buying a Macintosh since they don't have half the bugs as PCs, but I digress... I should brush up on my basic chess knowledge (what comes of sidestepping the 'Write what you know' rule). And I'm glad you're clearly enjoying this fic! There's a slim outside chance I might write a sequel to it... And thanks for clearing my fears that Ref might be a Mary Sue! She's appeared in a few other "Matrix" fics of mine and I've been concerned that she might be edging toward Sue-ish territory.
To kraeg001: Yep, "the One" makes a cameo appearance in this chapter!
To just64helpin: That was something I was careful to avoid: ie. making this story sound like the original movie, but I think I did a good job veering away from that.
To the toltec: Thanks for the suggestion! I hope this chapter serves it well.
Disclaimer:
See chapter 1
Chapter Eight: Shaken
Ref fell asleep, exhausted as much from telling her story as from what happened to her inside the Matrix. I stayed by her, waiting for her to wake up. My chest still ached and my head felt like someone had stuck a hot needle through my head jack.
Sand, along with Gia, the medic for the Osiris, came to check on Ref and I a moment or so later. Sand looked me over with a worried wrinkle between her brows. "You all right, Ash? You look pale."
"Yeah, I'm okay," I said. "Just shaken from all the shakin' goin' on."
Gia looked me in the face. "Something happened to you in there. Let me take a look."
She had me get up on the other operating table in the sick bay and hooked me up to the bank of monitors along the wall behind us. Some kind of visual scan of my brain appeared on one of the small screens, while an osiloscope tracked what I guessed were my brain waves. I watched Sand's face as she watched the monitors: a worried look that I didn't like the looks of came into her eyes.
"Something happened in there," she said. "You have traces of VDT, virtual damage trauma."
"I probably got cut up when I took that drop out the window," I said
Gia shook her head. "This isn't consistent with those kinds of wounds. You were chased by Agents, weren't you?"
"Yeah, three of 'em came out of nowhere," I said. "Then when I was calling out, this fourth one showed up... tried doing something completely wierd... He tried sticking his hand into my chest."
Gia looked at me puzzled. "You must have hit your head somewhere. I've never heard of an Agent doing that to anyone."
"I'm only telling you what happened to me," I said, pulling myself up on my elbow.
Sand pressed me down. "You lay back and get some rest." Doctor's orders, I thought, settling back down as Sand took me by the arm and injected a painkiller into one of my jacks. Not as painless as it sounds.
My head slowly started feeling heavy and I closed my eyes, resting this one out, easy way to spend the rest of the trip home.
Some time later, probably a few hours, I felt someone nudge me. I opened my eyes to find Trinity standing beside me. "Hey, time to go: we're home," she said.
Jack, Sand, and Gia were already helping Ref onto a stretcher. I sat up and stepped down to the floor. I came to the side of the stretcher as Jack and Sand lifted it; I put a hand on Ref's shoulder, ready to pull back if she winced. Ref opened her eyes and looked up at me, nudging her shoulder into my hand, as if she welcomed the touch. Or maybe I just hoped that she did.
We headed out into the corridor, then out into the rear loading bay of the Osiris and down a ramp to the dockside.
I stepped out into the open. I expected darkness, but this place was well-lit and the air warm, though it had a slight scent of being re-recycled. I followed the rest of the crew down the ramp, and looked up.
The ceiling above reminded me of an immense planeterium dome. We stood on the rim of a cement dry dock in what was clearly the shipyard level of the city. Next to the Osiris, the Nebuchadnezzer had been docked, a repair crew already at work assessing the damage to the hull.
Jack nudged my arm and drew me aside as Morpheus and Thadeus came down the ramp carrying a second stretcher with something wrapped in grey canvas. I knew who it had been...
A crowd of people had gathered on the dock, mostly ship technicians, with a number of by-standers mixed in. I spotted a young fellow about my own age hovering at the back of the crowd, short dark hair and quiet brown eyes, a small scar between the base of his nose and his upper lip, a bit pretty-faced, but heck, I'm not the most hard-chinned fellow either. His eye lighted on Trinity and a slight smile lit his face. The crowd parted reverently before him, almost as if he were a god, as he approached her.
Trinity, shouldering a heavy duffle baag, smiled back at him. I'd had an inkling, but this only confirmed it: this guy was the one (all puns intended.). He came up to her and drew her into his arms; she reached up and kissed him, then let him help her carry her kit. I expected to feel sore at seeing this, but oddly enough, I had no hard feelings at all. Probably had too much on my mind, or I was still too shook up.
On the edge of the crowd, I spotted a stocky fellow in his early seventies, clad in a long, flowing blue robe embroidered in purple and red, which gave him the look of a slightly dotty wizard-type, but he had an air of gentle wisdom about his clean-shaven, jowly face. Jack and Sand set down Ref's stretcher as the newcomer approached. Sand approached the older man and spoke to him in a low voice before she led him to the stretcher. He knelt down beside it, putting a fatherly hand on Ref's head. "You rest up now, girl, it's gonna be all right," he said, in a husky-throaty voice. He stood up, his eye on me. "You must be Ash, the fellow who saved her?" he asked. "I'm Councillor Hamann, Ref's guardian."
"I was just doing what needed to be done; someone had to save her," I replied, trying to sound nonchalant. But I could tell from the quiet twinkle in Hamann's slightly faded blue eyes that he sensed something else in my tone.
A woman's cry, not a scream but a howl of anger and sorrow, rose over the dockyard clatter around us. I looked up to see this small, dark, somewhat exotic-looking girl, her wavy hair held back from her face with a silver headband, clinging to the other stretcher. Gia, Ju'e and Sand tried to speak to her, but the girl was inconsolable.
"First Dozer, now Tank! That ship is bad luck," the girl cried.
"Zee... he wouldn't want you to be this upset... he died getting Jack and Ref and Ash out of the Matrix," Sand said, leading the girl away to one side. At first, I took Zee to be Tank's wife or ladyfriend, but she seemed young for that; getting a better look at her, I noticed her face resembled Tank's, and it dawned on me she might be his sister.
"Poor girl's lost two brothers in this war," Hamann said, and started to take one end of Ref's stretcher; I beat him to it. With Hamann leading the way, Jack helped me carry her to a nearby elevator, which took us down to the residential level: tiers on tiers of metal-doored apartments cut into the rock, like pigeonholes with webs of catwalks and stairways leading to each one.
"So Trinity unplugged you, Ash?" Hamann asked.
"Yeah, she got me out in time: I suspect the machines were using me to try getting at her," I said.
Hamann nodded sagely. "Yes, there's been many reports from several other captains that Agent activity has gotten more intense. And, as you found out the hard way, the Sentinels have gotten more numerous in the pipelines."
"Sounds like you know more than a bit about that," I said.
"I apprenticed on the Charlemagne, and I was a gunner aboard the Peaquod and the Gilgamesh. Survived two major attacks on the Peaquod. I was a sole survivor of one of 'em."
"So, for your distinguished service, they made you one of the top guys here?" I asked.
"Something like that, once I reached the proper age," he replied.
At length, he paused before the door of one of the larger cubicles on the top level. Hamann knocked on the door. It opened and a white-haired woman in her sixties peered out. She took one look at the stretcher on which Ref lay and pulled the door open wider. "Earth above, what happened? Bring her in."
"Jas, she'll be all right: she took a bad hit Matrix-side, but this young man got her out," Hamann said, putting a hand on my shoulder. "This is Ash, the young man Morpheus just freed."
Jas nodded, smiling a little and led us into the apartment, a low-ceilinged den that reminded me a little of a cave or a rock shelter, except for the colored woven hangings on the walls and hanging from the ceiling, seperating two nooks from the large main room. Jas pulled aside one of the curtains, covering the smaller nook, which I realized was Ref's room. A few large sack-like pillows covered with worn blankets for a bed, a battered wooden chest of drawers held together with large metal staples, and a metal bookshelf with two shelves containing a few carefully preserved books, real bound paper books, probably salvaged from the surface somehow.
Jack and I set the stretcher on the floor; Jas pulled the covers back on the bed as I picked up Ref -- yep, the romantic-movie-hero-carrying-the-girl gesture -- and laid her on the cushions.
Ref clasped my wrist with one hand. "Thank you."
I tried to shrug nonchalantly as I said, "I'm just helping take care of you," but I knew there was a lot more going on in my heart.
She reached up, putting her hand behind my head, stroking the stubble of my hair gently as she looked up into my face, showing me a smile.
I'm not sure what exactly came over me, whether I was still not myself from the damage caused by that tussle with that Agent, or it came from smooching the French guy's wife. But I leaned in closer to Ref and pressed my lips to hers. I felt someone's mouth tremble: I guessed it was hers, so I started to pull back. But then I realized, loking at her, she wasn't trembling. I was.
I pulled back a few inches, still looking down into her eyes. "I'm sorry... I don't know why I..."
"Shh... it's all right... No need to be sorry..." she said, laying a finger over my lips for a second. She reached up a little, moving in for a second kiss; I met her halfway, pushing her back down just a little, not pushing her into the pillows, but nudging her down so she wouldn't tire herself. Her body, under my hand on her side, felt hard, tight, disciplined, like the fighter that she was, but I felt her tremble that time, more from pain and exhaustion than from fear. I tasted salt between her lips, a touch of something metallic, like blood... but something sweet as well...
Jack coughed behind us. I released Ref and looked over my shoulder, feeling a bit sheepish.
"Sorry about that," I said.
"I get the same way with Sand sometimes: no hard feelings," Jack said.
Jas lifted a corner of the curtain and peered in. "I've got hot soup ready for anyone who wants some," she said.
"Thanks," I said. I leaned over Ref again. "You take it easy there, now. I'll be back."
Ref smiled at me and turned onto her side stiffly, clearly trying to make herself comfortable. "I'll be here."
I kissed her forehead, then got up and followed Jack out to the main room, a sort of kitchen-living room in the middle of which stood a low metal table, somewhat like the kind you find in some Japanese restaraunts, only surrounded by four large square thin cushions.
I'd hardly known what to expect when Jas said she had soup ready, especially after a week of eating single-cell protein goop. I have to admit, my eyes nearly started out of my head when she placed a steaming, aromatic bowl of herb broth with chunks of potatoes, carrots, celery and tomatoes before me.
"If you're wonderin' where the vegetables came from, we grow 'em hydroponically on one of the lower levels of the city," Hamann explained. "A man by the name of Gideon living up on the surface managed to start a farm just after the machines took over. Rigged up high-powered lights and such, managed to grow several crops before the machines got wise to him. But he grew enough plants to give us cuttings and seeds to plant food crops for the city."
"Just goes to show how resilliant humans really are," I said.
"Are you speakin' for yourself, boy? Thadeus radioed in saying you jacked out without any help from an operator, and with an Agent on your tail," Hamann said.
I shrugged. "I had to get out."
I soon told my story to Hamann, who listened with quietly wrapt attention. He, returning the favor, told me how he and Jas had adopted Ref after she had been freed nearly ten years earlier, just after their own daughter Artemis had died when her ship had been attacked. The Zion Academy had been hard put trying to find a niche for Ref, since she made an awkward fighter, and since her head jack didn't sit right, but Hamann had seen to it that she got a commission working as an archivist for the Zion Archives. Jack left to check on Sand and Tank's sister Zee, while Hamann went to see about the preparations for the funeral.
"Must be hard for you, havin' to let go of him so soon after you were freed," Jas said, collecting the tray she'd brought to Ref's nook.
"I'm just rolling that into letting go of the world I knew," I said.
Jas looked me in the face. "Here, don't try playin' the tough young man with me: I may be old, but my eyes are still sharp."
She had me there. The toughness was a mask I'd put on to shut out the world, or maybe it was some kind of defense system the machines had installed on me to keep me from getting too wise. Or from being too human.
She released my gaze and went out into the main room. Once she had gone, I tucked my head and let myself weep over Tank's death.
Hamann was a priest in the Zion Temple, so he had agreed to preside over funeral ceremony for Tank, in the Grotto of Remembrance. Ref was still too tired and achy to rise from her bed and join the rest of the Neb crew, so I went in her place. Besides the Neb crew, Zee, Tank's younger sister and Cas, Tank's widowed sister-in-law along with Tank's niece and nephew, his brother Dozer's kids, were there, along with a sturdy, slightly round-faced fellow with dish-water brown hair and mocking grey-blue eyes, another Zion-born since he didn't have jacks in his head or arms. I guessed he was an operator from another ship: he had reddish marks over his ears where his headset would have been. I later found out his name was Sparks and that he'd trained with Tank in the Zion Academy. The chapel where we had gathered was a spacious grotto cut out of the living rock, the walls etched with hundreds of names in between the small sconce-like holders for the torches that lit the space. On a square raised platform, about two feet high and nearly ten feet on a side, in the middle of our circle lay a small assortment of objects, clearly Tank's worldly possessions: a pair of boots, a couple worn jerseys and a couple pairs of pants, a battered notebook-sized computer and a large metal box of disks.
I noticed the body was glaringly absent; I nudged Trinity and asked her why. She explained that Tank had wanted to be cremated, the way most Zion dwellers wished to be interred. I almost asked if there was any other option, but it dawned on me that there wasn't: when you're living in a gigantic rabbit warren underground, there's not much space for a cemetary.
Hamann offered a somewhat lengthy invocation to the Higher Power. Then Morpheus spoke at length, eulogizing Tank:
"Tank, the second son of Sherman, served his level best as our operator on board the Nebuchadnezzer. He was quick to obey, calm in the fury of pursuit, patient in training the newly freed minds. But he meant more to us than a mere member of the crew. He was a brother to us and to the newly freed, and a son to me as his captain. He knew places in our hearts that few of us dared to enter ourselves. His father raised him to be a thinker as well as a fighter and to care for the needs of the people he worked, lived and served with, capabilities well-manifested in this young man.
"He apprenticed on the Novalis, then served on the Nebuchadnezzer alongside his older brother Dozer, and on both ships, his service record was nearly flawless. If he had not been Zion-born, he would have made a fine captain, but her preferred to serve rather than to lead..."
Sparks nudged me. "Ever had to put up with one of Morph's speeches? This is a short one."
"Oh shush," I said.
Once Morpheus had finished speaking, he stepped down from the platform. Silence settled over us. I caught myself praying a Hail Mary the way my mother used to at funerals in our town... I almost stopped myself, but it was the best I could do at the time.
Then, after a minute, Zee stepped up to the platform and took up the pair of boots. "I claim these for my nephew Shaf, so he'll walk tall like his uncle, but he won't have such a hard road," she said, her voice trembling. She stepped back into the circle.
Sparks stepped forward and took the laptop and the disks. "I claim the notebook: He took good care of that, even if he didn't take the best care for himself."
Trinity and Cas both groaned, annoyed. Zee looked like she wanted to sock Sparks, but he shot them all a teasing grin. Hamann glared at Sparks, clearing his throat, but said nothing.
I was tempted to step forward and claim the shirts, but Trinity's young fellow came for them instead. When the last items had been claimed, Hamann spread his arms in a quiet benediction. "Go then in his memory..."
As the others dispersed, Hamann stepped down and led me back to the apartment in silence.
Jas had made up a bed for mon the floor of Ref's nook. I bunked down there that night, but I could hardly sleep. I felt way too keyed up over everything, and my chest still ached, though not as bad as before.
After an hour or two, I slipped into a mild doze, but then I awakened, hearing Ref's bed creak. I felt the corner of my blankets lift as she crept in under them and huddled against me. I turned onto my side, giving her more room and held her close. She shook like a leaf, and I felt her tears as she hid her face in the crook of my arm.
Mind you, I'm not the most touchy-feely guy there is, but I spent most of that night holding her comfortingly. I could still tell, from the way she winced in her sleep, that she still ached from the VDT, and I knew she cried because she blamed herself for the attack.
Hamann poked his head around the edge of the curtain, obviously checking on Ref and I. Ref had drifted off to sleep, her head on my arm. He smiled at us and tiptoed away.
At least I had my girl's adoptive dad's approval.
To be continued...
Under the Gun
by "Matrix Refugee"
Author's Note:
Sorry for the deplorable delay: I've been having some really bad problems with my computer: spyware bugs messed it up, so I had to have the software reloaded, and even after that, this screwy machine still isn't working quite right, so I was loathing sitting down at the keyboard each day for a while there... But I managed to finish writing this story: the last chapter will be posted next week!
But first, a few words of thanks to all my reviewers and patient readers:
To Yar Kramer: I didn't expect Smith to show up either, but I think his cameo will serve an interesting purpose to this narrative...
To Oshika Kogo: I am sooo very sorry it took me this long to update, but my computer caught some horrible spyware bugs, so I had to get it fixed, then reinstall my Internet software... it took me almost three weeks to get back online, then summer intervened... I'll have the next chapter posted next week (I did a lot of writing while the comp was being repaired).
To Argent Inluminai: Ugh, I hear you about PC problems! When this comp finally kicks the bucket, I am buying a Macintosh since they don't have half the bugs as PCs, but I digress... I should brush up on my basic chess knowledge (what comes of sidestepping the 'Write what you know' rule). And I'm glad you're clearly enjoying this fic! There's a slim outside chance I might write a sequel to it... And thanks for clearing my fears that Ref might be a Mary Sue! She's appeared in a few other "Matrix" fics of mine and I've been concerned that she might be edging toward Sue-ish territory.
To kraeg001: Yep, "the One" makes a cameo appearance in this chapter!
To just64helpin: That was something I was careful to avoid: ie. making this story sound like the original movie, but I think I did a good job veering away from that.
To the toltec: Thanks for the suggestion! I hope this chapter serves it well.
Disclaimer:
See chapter 1
Chapter Eight: Shaken
Ref fell asleep, exhausted as much from telling her story as from what happened to her inside the Matrix. I stayed by her, waiting for her to wake up. My chest still ached and my head felt like someone had stuck a hot needle through my head jack.
Sand, along with Gia, the medic for the Osiris, came to check on Ref and I a moment or so later. Sand looked me over with a worried wrinkle between her brows. "You all right, Ash? You look pale."
"Yeah, I'm okay," I said. "Just shaken from all the shakin' goin' on."
Gia looked me in the face. "Something happened to you in there. Let me take a look."
She had me get up on the other operating table in the sick bay and hooked me up to the bank of monitors along the wall behind us. Some kind of visual scan of my brain appeared on one of the small screens, while an osiloscope tracked what I guessed were my brain waves. I watched Sand's face as she watched the monitors: a worried look that I didn't like the looks of came into her eyes.
"Something happened in there," she said. "You have traces of VDT, virtual damage trauma."
"I probably got cut up when I took that drop out the window," I said
Gia shook her head. "This isn't consistent with those kinds of wounds. You were chased by Agents, weren't you?"
"Yeah, three of 'em came out of nowhere," I said. "Then when I was calling out, this fourth one showed up... tried doing something completely wierd... He tried sticking his hand into my chest."
Gia looked at me puzzled. "You must have hit your head somewhere. I've never heard of an Agent doing that to anyone."
"I'm only telling you what happened to me," I said, pulling myself up on my elbow.
Sand pressed me down. "You lay back and get some rest." Doctor's orders, I thought, settling back down as Sand took me by the arm and injected a painkiller into one of my jacks. Not as painless as it sounds.
My head slowly started feeling heavy and I closed my eyes, resting this one out, easy way to spend the rest of the trip home.
Some time later, probably a few hours, I felt someone nudge me. I opened my eyes to find Trinity standing beside me. "Hey, time to go: we're home," she said.
Jack, Sand, and Gia were already helping Ref onto a stretcher. I sat up and stepped down to the floor. I came to the side of the stretcher as Jack and Sand lifted it; I put a hand on Ref's shoulder, ready to pull back if she winced. Ref opened her eyes and looked up at me, nudging her shoulder into my hand, as if she welcomed the touch. Or maybe I just hoped that she did.
We headed out into the corridor, then out into the rear loading bay of the Osiris and down a ramp to the dockside.
I stepped out into the open. I expected darkness, but this place was well-lit and the air warm, though it had a slight scent of being re-recycled. I followed the rest of the crew down the ramp, and looked up.
The ceiling above reminded me of an immense planeterium dome. We stood on the rim of a cement dry dock in what was clearly the shipyard level of the city. Next to the Osiris, the Nebuchadnezzer had been docked, a repair crew already at work assessing the damage to the hull.
Jack nudged my arm and drew me aside as Morpheus and Thadeus came down the ramp carrying a second stretcher with something wrapped in grey canvas. I knew who it had been...
A crowd of people had gathered on the dock, mostly ship technicians, with a number of by-standers mixed in. I spotted a young fellow about my own age hovering at the back of the crowd, short dark hair and quiet brown eyes, a small scar between the base of his nose and his upper lip, a bit pretty-faced, but heck, I'm not the most hard-chinned fellow either. His eye lighted on Trinity and a slight smile lit his face. The crowd parted reverently before him, almost as if he were a god, as he approached her.
Trinity, shouldering a heavy duffle baag, smiled back at him. I'd had an inkling, but this only confirmed it: this guy was the one (all puns intended.). He came up to her and drew her into his arms; she reached up and kissed him, then let him help her carry her kit. I expected to feel sore at seeing this, but oddly enough, I had no hard feelings at all. Probably had too much on my mind, or I was still too shook up.
On the edge of the crowd, I spotted a stocky fellow in his early seventies, clad in a long, flowing blue robe embroidered in purple and red, which gave him the look of a slightly dotty wizard-type, but he had an air of gentle wisdom about his clean-shaven, jowly face. Jack and Sand set down Ref's stretcher as the newcomer approached. Sand approached the older man and spoke to him in a low voice before she led him to the stretcher. He knelt down beside it, putting a fatherly hand on Ref's head. "You rest up now, girl, it's gonna be all right," he said, in a husky-throaty voice. He stood up, his eye on me. "You must be Ash, the fellow who saved her?" he asked. "I'm Councillor Hamann, Ref's guardian."
"I was just doing what needed to be done; someone had to save her," I replied, trying to sound nonchalant. But I could tell from the quiet twinkle in Hamann's slightly faded blue eyes that he sensed something else in my tone.
A woman's cry, not a scream but a howl of anger and sorrow, rose over the dockyard clatter around us. I looked up to see this small, dark, somewhat exotic-looking girl, her wavy hair held back from her face with a silver headband, clinging to the other stretcher. Gia, Ju'e and Sand tried to speak to her, but the girl was inconsolable.
"First Dozer, now Tank! That ship is bad luck," the girl cried.
"Zee... he wouldn't want you to be this upset... he died getting Jack and Ref and Ash out of the Matrix," Sand said, leading the girl away to one side. At first, I took Zee to be Tank's wife or ladyfriend, but she seemed young for that; getting a better look at her, I noticed her face resembled Tank's, and it dawned on me she might be his sister.
"Poor girl's lost two brothers in this war," Hamann said, and started to take one end of Ref's stretcher; I beat him to it. With Hamann leading the way, Jack helped me carry her to a nearby elevator, which took us down to the residential level: tiers on tiers of metal-doored apartments cut into the rock, like pigeonholes with webs of catwalks and stairways leading to each one.
"So Trinity unplugged you, Ash?" Hamann asked.
"Yeah, she got me out in time: I suspect the machines were using me to try getting at her," I said.
Hamann nodded sagely. "Yes, there's been many reports from several other captains that Agent activity has gotten more intense. And, as you found out the hard way, the Sentinels have gotten more numerous in the pipelines."
"Sounds like you know more than a bit about that," I said.
"I apprenticed on the Charlemagne, and I was a gunner aboard the Peaquod and the Gilgamesh. Survived two major attacks on the Peaquod. I was a sole survivor of one of 'em."
"So, for your distinguished service, they made you one of the top guys here?" I asked.
"Something like that, once I reached the proper age," he replied.
At length, he paused before the door of one of the larger cubicles on the top level. Hamann knocked on the door. It opened and a white-haired woman in her sixties peered out. She took one look at the stretcher on which Ref lay and pulled the door open wider. "Earth above, what happened? Bring her in."
"Jas, she'll be all right: she took a bad hit Matrix-side, but this young man got her out," Hamann said, putting a hand on my shoulder. "This is Ash, the young man Morpheus just freed."
Jas nodded, smiling a little and led us into the apartment, a low-ceilinged den that reminded me a little of a cave or a rock shelter, except for the colored woven hangings on the walls and hanging from the ceiling, seperating two nooks from the large main room. Jas pulled aside one of the curtains, covering the smaller nook, which I realized was Ref's room. A few large sack-like pillows covered with worn blankets for a bed, a battered wooden chest of drawers held together with large metal staples, and a metal bookshelf with two shelves containing a few carefully preserved books, real bound paper books, probably salvaged from the surface somehow.
Jack and I set the stretcher on the floor; Jas pulled the covers back on the bed as I picked up Ref -- yep, the romantic-movie-hero-carrying-the-girl gesture -- and laid her on the cushions.
Ref clasped my wrist with one hand. "Thank you."
I tried to shrug nonchalantly as I said, "I'm just helping take care of you," but I knew there was a lot more going on in my heart.
She reached up, putting her hand behind my head, stroking the stubble of my hair gently as she looked up into my face, showing me a smile.
I'm not sure what exactly came over me, whether I was still not myself from the damage caused by that tussle with that Agent, or it came from smooching the French guy's wife. But I leaned in closer to Ref and pressed my lips to hers. I felt someone's mouth tremble: I guessed it was hers, so I started to pull back. But then I realized, loking at her, she wasn't trembling. I was.
I pulled back a few inches, still looking down into her eyes. "I'm sorry... I don't know why I..."
"Shh... it's all right... No need to be sorry..." she said, laying a finger over my lips for a second. She reached up a little, moving in for a second kiss; I met her halfway, pushing her back down just a little, not pushing her into the pillows, but nudging her down so she wouldn't tire herself. Her body, under my hand on her side, felt hard, tight, disciplined, like the fighter that she was, but I felt her tremble that time, more from pain and exhaustion than from fear. I tasted salt between her lips, a touch of something metallic, like blood... but something sweet as well...
Jack coughed behind us. I released Ref and looked over my shoulder, feeling a bit sheepish.
"Sorry about that," I said.
"I get the same way with Sand sometimes: no hard feelings," Jack said.
Jas lifted a corner of the curtain and peered in. "I've got hot soup ready for anyone who wants some," she said.
"Thanks," I said. I leaned over Ref again. "You take it easy there, now. I'll be back."
Ref smiled at me and turned onto her side stiffly, clearly trying to make herself comfortable. "I'll be here."
I kissed her forehead, then got up and followed Jack out to the main room, a sort of kitchen-living room in the middle of which stood a low metal table, somewhat like the kind you find in some Japanese restaraunts, only surrounded by four large square thin cushions.
I'd hardly known what to expect when Jas said she had soup ready, especially after a week of eating single-cell protein goop. I have to admit, my eyes nearly started out of my head when she placed a steaming, aromatic bowl of herb broth with chunks of potatoes, carrots, celery and tomatoes before me.
"If you're wonderin' where the vegetables came from, we grow 'em hydroponically on one of the lower levels of the city," Hamann explained. "A man by the name of Gideon living up on the surface managed to start a farm just after the machines took over. Rigged up high-powered lights and such, managed to grow several crops before the machines got wise to him. But he grew enough plants to give us cuttings and seeds to plant food crops for the city."
"Just goes to show how resilliant humans really are," I said.
"Are you speakin' for yourself, boy? Thadeus radioed in saying you jacked out without any help from an operator, and with an Agent on your tail," Hamann said.
I shrugged. "I had to get out."
I soon told my story to Hamann, who listened with quietly wrapt attention. He, returning the favor, told me how he and Jas had adopted Ref after she had been freed nearly ten years earlier, just after their own daughter Artemis had died when her ship had been attacked. The Zion Academy had been hard put trying to find a niche for Ref, since she made an awkward fighter, and since her head jack didn't sit right, but Hamann had seen to it that she got a commission working as an archivist for the Zion Archives. Jack left to check on Sand and Tank's sister Zee, while Hamann went to see about the preparations for the funeral.
"Must be hard for you, havin' to let go of him so soon after you were freed," Jas said, collecting the tray she'd brought to Ref's nook.
"I'm just rolling that into letting go of the world I knew," I said.
Jas looked me in the face. "Here, don't try playin' the tough young man with me: I may be old, but my eyes are still sharp."
She had me there. The toughness was a mask I'd put on to shut out the world, or maybe it was some kind of defense system the machines had installed on me to keep me from getting too wise. Or from being too human.
She released my gaze and went out into the main room. Once she had gone, I tucked my head and let myself weep over Tank's death.
Hamann was a priest in the Zion Temple, so he had agreed to preside over funeral ceremony for Tank, in the Grotto of Remembrance. Ref was still too tired and achy to rise from her bed and join the rest of the Neb crew, so I went in her place. Besides the Neb crew, Zee, Tank's younger sister and Cas, Tank's widowed sister-in-law along with Tank's niece and nephew, his brother Dozer's kids, were there, along with a sturdy, slightly round-faced fellow with dish-water brown hair and mocking grey-blue eyes, another Zion-born since he didn't have jacks in his head or arms. I guessed he was an operator from another ship: he had reddish marks over his ears where his headset would have been. I later found out his name was Sparks and that he'd trained with Tank in the Zion Academy. The chapel where we had gathered was a spacious grotto cut out of the living rock, the walls etched with hundreds of names in between the small sconce-like holders for the torches that lit the space. On a square raised platform, about two feet high and nearly ten feet on a side, in the middle of our circle lay a small assortment of objects, clearly Tank's worldly possessions: a pair of boots, a couple worn jerseys and a couple pairs of pants, a battered notebook-sized computer and a large metal box of disks.
I noticed the body was glaringly absent; I nudged Trinity and asked her why. She explained that Tank had wanted to be cremated, the way most Zion dwellers wished to be interred. I almost asked if there was any other option, but it dawned on me that there wasn't: when you're living in a gigantic rabbit warren underground, there's not much space for a cemetary.
Hamann offered a somewhat lengthy invocation to the Higher Power. Then Morpheus spoke at length, eulogizing Tank:
"Tank, the second son of Sherman, served his level best as our operator on board the Nebuchadnezzer. He was quick to obey, calm in the fury of pursuit, patient in training the newly freed minds. But he meant more to us than a mere member of the crew. He was a brother to us and to the newly freed, and a son to me as his captain. He knew places in our hearts that few of us dared to enter ourselves. His father raised him to be a thinker as well as a fighter and to care for the needs of the people he worked, lived and served with, capabilities well-manifested in this young man.
"He apprenticed on the Novalis, then served on the Nebuchadnezzer alongside his older brother Dozer, and on both ships, his service record was nearly flawless. If he had not been Zion-born, he would have made a fine captain, but her preferred to serve rather than to lead..."
Sparks nudged me. "Ever had to put up with one of Morph's speeches? This is a short one."
"Oh shush," I said.
Once Morpheus had finished speaking, he stepped down from the platform. Silence settled over us. I caught myself praying a Hail Mary the way my mother used to at funerals in our town... I almost stopped myself, but it was the best I could do at the time.
Then, after a minute, Zee stepped up to the platform and took up the pair of boots. "I claim these for my nephew Shaf, so he'll walk tall like his uncle, but he won't have such a hard road," she said, her voice trembling. She stepped back into the circle.
Sparks stepped forward and took the laptop and the disks. "I claim the notebook: He took good care of that, even if he didn't take the best care for himself."
Trinity and Cas both groaned, annoyed. Zee looked like she wanted to sock Sparks, but he shot them all a teasing grin. Hamann glared at Sparks, clearing his throat, but said nothing.
I was tempted to step forward and claim the shirts, but Trinity's young fellow came for them instead. When the last items had been claimed, Hamann spread his arms in a quiet benediction. "Go then in his memory..."
As the others dispersed, Hamann stepped down and led me back to the apartment in silence.
Jas had made up a bed for mon the floor of Ref's nook. I bunked down there that night, but I could hardly sleep. I felt way too keyed up over everything, and my chest still ached, though not as bad as before.
After an hour or two, I slipped into a mild doze, but then I awakened, hearing Ref's bed creak. I felt the corner of my blankets lift as she crept in under them and huddled against me. I turned onto my side, giving her more room and held her close. She shook like a leaf, and I felt her tears as she hid her face in the crook of my arm.
Mind you, I'm not the most touchy-feely guy there is, but I spent most of that night holding her comfortingly. I could still tell, from the way she winced in her sleep, that she still ached from the VDT, and I knew she cried because she blamed herself for the attack.
Hamann poked his head around the edge of the curtain, obviously checking on Ref and I. Ref had drifted off to sleep, her head on my arm. He smiled at us and tiptoed away.
At least I had my girl's adoptive dad's approval.
To be continued...
