4: THE MISSION

The second wave breaks over both.

Aerial and Tiresias followed Genius back up to the core layout, where Mimic stood behind Phoenix, watching the Matrix. Genius was about to proclaim their presence, but he only got as far as, 'Capta' before Mimic turned around and cut him off with 'Thanks, Genius. Now scoot – we have things to talk about.'

'But'

'Shoo. Now.'

Genius' face fell as he shuffled back to the ladder that connected the two decks.

Tiresias made his way to Phoenix's side and began tiding the wires at the rear of the main layout. Aerial was glad he was around. Phoenix was absorbed in his screens as usual, which meant Sphere was co-piloting. Mimic came closer to her and spoke quietly, 'Sphere told me you took a nasty fall in the dojo.'

Aerial nodded, unsure as to whether she was brave enough to reveal the vision to her captain. 'Are you okay?' pressed Mimic. Aerial nodded again. Tiresias cleared his throat. Aerial sighed and dutifully explained the vision she had experienced before she fell. Mimic's blue eyes never left her face. The captain left her side and went to a chair, resting her hands on the back.

'I've heard of things like this, but only rumours picked up in the common room in the Captain's quarters down in Zion. They say every program the System created has a residual self-image, much like we do. Except it's not really a self-image. More accurately, each individual program is based upon an individual connected to the Matrix.'

'A program was based on me?' asked Aerial incredulously.

'It sounds like it,' agreed Mimic. 'This sort of thing has happened before; a boy named Elf passed out like you did. Turns out his twin program was deactivated at the same moment.'

'So I've made contact with my "twin program"?'

'No – it made contact with you, probably inadvertently, judging by the vision you had.' Mimic turned her head and looked at Aerial, 'Do you feel any different?'

'No. I'

'How about in the dojo, was anything different then?'

Aerial's head was beginning to spin with the questions being fired at her. A headache throbbed across her forehead. 'I can't remember...'

Mimic gestured to the chair, 'Come on. I want to look into this. Phoenix, load the dojo. Tiresias, plug us in, would you?'

Tiresias winced mentally at the change in Mimic's tone when she addressed him, and crossed to the chairs again. Aerial obediently lay back in the chair, Mimic next to her. At least in the simulation, there would be no headache...

The dojo was exactly as it was when Aerial had sparred with Genius, minus the dent in the floor from her subsequent fall. Mimic took a few paces forwards, and put her hands on her hips, surveying the room. She turned around and faced the smaller girl, 'How do you feel?'

'I never noticed the echo in here before,' noted Aerial, turning her head this way and that.

Mimic shot her a look, 'What echo?'

'You can't hear it?' hear it... hear it... hear it...

'No.' no... no... no...

'I can see clearer too. Every little detail of the walls and matting. Woah, if I concentrate I can see the pixels!' Aerial narrowed her eyes, staring around her. 'This is weird...' she remarked.

Mimic was staring at her. 'I think some of your program has transferred to you,' she said slowly.

Aerial was reluctant to believe it. 'But nothing else has changed.' She patted herself down...

...The program plunged the needle into the vein at Falcon's elbow, and he choked down a scream. Through the scarlet pain, he was certain that the Doctor had been this brutal on purpose. Purple spots flared around the edges of his vision. He seemed to be taking forever to inject the bloody stuff as well...

...On the ship, Aerial's body jerked, rattling the straps holding her in place. Tiresias raised his head swiftly, moving from his position between the chairs to Aerial's side. Her body shuddered again, and again.

In the dojo, Aerial dropped to her knees with a stifled cry as a blindingly sharp pain flared at her elbow. Mimic's eyes went wide. The girl clutched her arm, rocking back and forth in agony. It was worse than before. Impossibly, she felt a trickle of something flowing into her arm, and then it was over. She pitched forwards as her muscles relaxed all at once; trying to quell the sobs she had subdued.

Mimic grabbed her shoulders and hauled her upright, yanking up the sleeve of her robe to inspect her arm. There was no visible wound, and Mimic had the treacherous thought that the younger crewmember was inventing the whole thing. But the tears making her eyes shine were of real pain: Mimic was experienced in that department. A sudden wave of compassion came over her, and she took Aerial into her arms and hugged her.

'I'm, I'm all right,' Aerial managed, surfacing from Mimic's arms. She swallowed and blinked heavily.

'What happened then?'

'I don't know...' Aerial was tired and light headed. The room slanted as she stood up, and she staggered. Her elbow still hurt: a dull pain concentrated around a tiny area right on the vein. Mimic caught hold of the girl's arm and called Phoenix to get them out.

Aerial opened her eyes sluggishly with a slight groan. The headache was back, and she was tired like she'd not been since doing an all-night hack when she was still plugged into the Matrix. She stood up, and Tiresias was there, embracing her gently. 'I'm not going to ask you about it now, because I can tell you're dead tired,' he said kindly. 'Just as long as you're okay.'

Aerial returned his hug gratefully, and lurched towards her room. Blackness was lurking at the edges of her vision, and she was practically asleep on her feet. She staggered across to her bunk and was asleep before she hit the blankets.

Falcon followed the Merovingian to his office, overlooking the château grounds. 'Do you know what my restaurant is called?' asked his employer, seemingly randomly. Falcon shook his head.

'It iz named "La Vérité". I trust you know z' meaning?'

'The Truth,' translated Falcon. He had requested to be updated with the French language after his second death as a peregrine falcon, knowing it would help him to be on better terms with the Merovingian. The memory made him flutter his wings in his own sympathy.

'Ironic, don't you sink?' mused the Frenchman. They came to another set of doors, and the Merovingian produced a key. Once again, Falcon heard the molecules of the place shift as the key turned. He followed the Merovingian into the office. It was plain: an ornate desk with a high-backed office chair behind, and two ordinary dining chairs on the other side were the only furniture. As they entered, a slim attractive woman turned around from the window and regarded them coldly.

The Merovingian introduced them, 'Ma chérie, zis is Falcon. Falcon, zis is my wife, Persephone.'

Falcon nodded respectfully to the striking program, who offered a rare smile to him. The Merovingian crossed the room to the desk and seated himself in the swivel chair, resting his elbows on the armrests and steepling his fingers. He was the spitting image of the stereotypical villain, but as a program, Falcon did not realise this. He sat down on one of the other chairs across the desk. Persephone resumed her gazing out of the window.

'Where to begin? To put it bluntly, I 'ave a mission for you zat I was considering allocating to z' Twins. 'Owever, since you need to prove yourself to me, I 'ave decided to send you.' Falcon nodded. All okay so far. This would undoubtedly cause repercussions between him and the ghosts, but he could take that. The Merovingian leaned forwards again. 'You 'ave 'eard of z' Oracle, no?'

'I have.'

'And you know where to find 'er?'

'That's correct.' Falcon's mind raced. 'You want me to kill her?' he guessed.

'Sacre bleu, no!' The Frenchman gave a short incredulous laugh. 'No, I 'ave recently been informed zat she 'as made anozzer prophecy.'

'Concerning the One?'

'You are very rude, are you not?' Falcon detected a note of impatience in the Merovingian's tone and resolved to shut up for a while. The program continued, 'She 'as said zat zere is anozzer wiz z' Sight. A human; a Free human no less, a young man. My spy tells me zat 'e will be joining 'er in a few days time.'

'You want me to get him?' Falcon couldn't help himself.

'Ah, you are correct, at last. Oui, and I want 'im alive, understood? 'E would be a great asset to me.'

Falcon nodded, 'All right.'

The Merovingian slid a disc across the table to him. ''Ere. Z' directions are on zere; anysing else, you will ask Cain or Abel. Zey know z' area like a dog knows z' smell of its own piss.'

'All right,' said Falcon again. He stood up and pocketed the disc, wincing as his elbow flared up at the movement. He turned at the door and looked back into the room. Persephone shot him a look, but he couldn't decipher it. He left the room quietly and started back towards the room Tiger had showed him before he went for the merging treatment. Each program had a room to themselves, for appearance's sake mostly. Falcon's room was sparse; a bed in one corner and an empty wardrobe against the opposite wall. He had been provided with three keys: one for the mansion, one for the restaurant, and one for the club.

He was tempted to explore the club, but instead decided to go into standby for a few hours and refresh.

He rounded a corner and almost walked into Persephone coming the other way. He jumped, and apologised profusely, 'I'm so sorry, madame, I...'

'That's okay.' Persephone managed to shut him up with a single sentence. Falcon gazed at her. She was just slightly taller than him, which made a change. Her eyes searched his face. 'I am envious of you,' she confessed, 'for you know what it is like to be free.' Falcon couldn't think of an answer. 'Let me touch your wings.' It was more of a command than a request, and Falcon spread his wings compliantly. They just brushed the walls on either side of the corridor. The dark blue feathers shone dimly in the sunlight from the windows lining one side of the passage.

Persephone reached out a slender hand and ran her fingers over the coarse weather-beaten feathers. Falcon shivered at her touch, 'My lady, I must be going now...'

She withdrew her hand, and he closed his wings. Persephone tilted her head and planted a delicate kiss on his cheek in a European farewell. 'See you later, Falcon.'

Falcon flushed crimson and strode hurriedly in the direction of his room.