10: BETRAYAL

She uncovers a hidden truth.

The car rolled to a halt in a bay outside the club; the Twins got out of the car in perfect unison and Falcon escorted Aerial out of his door. A chunky man in black leather took the keys from the albino's outstretched hand and drove the SUV to the underground parking zone. Falcon placed a warning hand on Aerial's left shoulder and steered her through the doors. The bouncers on duty nodded at the Twins, who lead the way.

They boarded a lift and rode it down to the basement. The lurching made Aerial's stomach heave again. She bent double and retched, but her stomach was empty. Something sticky and burningly hot came from her mouth, and she realised it was stomach acid. She coughed, but this only irritated her throat even more, and she whimpered softly. She felt wretched and uncomfortably hot and stifled.

The lift doors slid open and the Twins stalked out, passing through the coat check with the aid of small cards which they produced on demand. Falcon was less lucky and was perfunctorily frisked. The coat-checker glanced at Aerial, then at the Twins, who shook their heads. Aerial felt a stab of hope: they hadn't found her gun.

She followed the albinos down a small corridor and through two sets of double swing doors. The wave of intense noise, heat, scent and light which hit her nearly took her feet from underneath her. The club was packed with people – mostly young men and women of about eighteen to twenty-five. At least two thirds had furiously coloured hair. The music was heavy and pulsing; Aerial recognised a 'Junkie XL' track.

The Twins formed a kind of snow-plough, effortlessly cutting through the crowd of dancers, who then closed smoothly back in after them. Aerial was protected by being in close proximity to the tall albinos, but Falcon again received the recoil of the Twins' privileges. Elbows, knees and arms all came spearing his way, and he was seriously considering breaking a random limb to vent his annoyance.

Aerial's illness had progressed swiftly, and the strange dark world around her began to spin gently. The fluorescent lights punctuating the gloom sliced into her eyes and flared in her forehead, and the throbbing beat of the music echoed uncomfortably loudly in her ears. Fully aware she was absolutely boiling, she couldn't stop herself from shivering.

Finally, the Twins climbed a short, curving, metallic staircase. Aerial gripped the banister so hard her knuckles became small white pebbles under her skin as she climbed, trying vainly to halt the dizzy spinning inside her head. The sight that awaited her brought on a wave on acute self-awareness.

Surrounded by various flunkies and smartly dressed men was a chaise-langue; seated on the red velvet were a middle-aged man and a younger woman. The woman's eyes focused on Aerial as Falcon steered her towards them. The Twins split smoothly like someone walking away from a mirror, and came to rest standing symmetrically behind the chaise. One of them murmured something. Without taking his eyes from the bird and his captive, the man nodded twice.

Aerial lowered her head, wishing vainly for a change of clothes. She was streaked with sweat; her once-immaculate shirt and jacket were freckled with Seraph's blood. She hoped that the Chinese program was all right. Traces of vomit clung to her trouser legs, and she was aware of how pale her hands were. They trembled as she stared at them, and she laced her fingers tightly.

'Falcon. Come here, please.'

His accent was unmistakably French. Falcon skirted her and strode over to the man. More muttered words were exchanged, and Aerial began to wonder if the virus hadn't damaged her hearing. Falcon left the same way he had come without looking at her, although he moved his wings very slightly and brushed her shoulder. Aerial thought she saw the woman's eyes harden a little.

'You, girl. Although you were not what I asked for, my attentions are aroused nonez'less.' Again, the woman's eyes intensified, and she shifted slightly. The man raised his gaze and spoke to someone behind her. 'Tiger, take 'er somewhere where she can rest. She does not look too well...' His voice elevated to a tone of mock concern, and Aerial felt the beginnings of dislike towards him.

Another hand fell on her shoulder. Aerial forced her limited supplies of brainpower to work. Where had she heard that name before? She turned to get a better look at "Tiger" and narrowed her eyes in confusion. Was that a woman or... no, it was a man. Adam's apple and lack of breasts confirmed it. But he did have undeniably feminine features; his wrists were slender, his fingers long and thin.

Now where had she heard his name before?

------

Mimic and Sphere jacked out of the Matrix thoroughly tired out. Phoenix nearly made the fatal mistake of unplugging Aerial, but caught herself just in time. She's not jacked out, remember? Mentally kicking herself for being so automatic, she approached the tall American. 'Mimic, why have they snatched Aerial?'

'Phoenix, I don't know, okay? The lot of you, piss off to bed. I want someone watching the Matrix at all times in case something happens. I have a feeling we'll be jacking in a lot more in the next few hours. Phoenix, take first watch.'

Phoenix closed her mouth and moved out of the way as Mimic stormed past. Vriha rested a hand on her shoulder briefly, and then ran after Sphere, who had headed straight for the med bay. Spess sighed slightly, 'It's not your fault, Phi.'

'I know, I know, Mimic just needs someone to kick off at. So why is it always me? Enfer foutu!' Phoenix threw herself into the chair and sulked, tugging on the headphones and running a search for the little English Rebel. Spess thought about comforting her, thought better of it, and went to find Mimic. He was concerned about her injuries. Both her and Sphere had sustained considerable damage, and although the wounds didn't show in the Real World, the mind concerned still created pain.

Genius glanced after Spess as he left, then approached Phoenix gingerly. 'Hey, I could take your watch if you want.'

Phoenix swivelled and gave him a strange look.

'I want to watch out for Aerial...' he said softly.

Phoenix looked into space for a few minutes, and then conceded the headset. 'All right Genius. I know how much you care for her. Don't stay up too late now. Call on me after four hours at the latest, okay?'

Genius nodded, and the French girl relinquished the Operator's chair to him. Damn right he cared about Aerial. He would do anything in the world for her, which was why he had volunteered to take the watch. He would need access to the answering machine they had hacked. He was expecting a phone call. He knew exactly who had snatched Aerial, and he had some idea of why.

He stared at her soulless body, and then at the form of Tiresias beside her. Then he counted to ten. He was seriously tempted to rip the jack out of that bastard's head right now. If Tiresias hadn't joined their crew, he would have had Aerial all to himself, which was the reason he was doing this.

Wind had got to the Merovingian of this blind Rebel whose alias hinted of greater things, and the program had surreptitiously posted a website offering a job to prospective spies. Genius had replied, and for once there was a stab of truth in his boasting. He did have some talent in eavesdropping and basic mechanical skills, which were all that were required.

He couldn't believe his luck when he had overheard that Tiresias had been summoned by the Oracle, and had wasted no time in contacting the mysterious program.

So Genius had become the little spy, conveniently placed to relay all movements of the blind rebel to his employer, working for free on the belief that Aerial would be his reward. It was Genius who had made the call informing the Merovingian that Tiresias was meeting the Oracle in the park. It was Genius who had told again of Tiresias' second visit.

And now he was furious.

He didn't have long to wait. The dull ringtone sounded, and Genius answered it before it had completed its first ring. 'Yes?'

'Mon espion humane.'

'Why have you got Aerial?' hissed Genius. 'She has nothing to do with this.'

'I thought z' same thing. 'Owever, I have found a reason for her. She will remain 'ere to make sure you keep up the bargain.'

'What?!'

'Z' girl will remain 'ere wiz me until you deliver z' Oracle.' His employer's voice grew thin and impatient. 'The capture 'as already failed twice.'

'You don't think I was trying to cheat you, do you?' whispered Genius incredulously.

'I must admit, z' thought crossed my mind more than once, which is why I 'ave decided to keep la fille Anglaise. I am told she displays program-like abilities.'

Genius pressed his lips together. The less he knew of her, the more likely he was to let her free. 'Okay, okay. You can't fail this time. I'll be doing the setting up, so it can't go wrong.'

'It had better not,' threatened the French voice at the other end. Genius felt sweat break out onto his brow. His employer hung up, leaving a shaken Genius scanning the screens absently.

------

Tiger led Aerial through the packed club and to a small backdoor, which he unlocked with a small key from his pocket. When it opened, Aerial caught her breath. Instead of the seedy back street she had been expecting was a small library, bookshelves lining the walls. Tiger thrust her unceremoniously onto the leather sofa. 'You can stay here for now. Do not leave this room. If anyone comes, just tell them you are a prisoner of the Merovingian and under Tiger's protection, and they won't harm you.' His dark eyes rested on her for a moment, and then he was gone. The door snapped shut behind him.

She had been here for about an hour with no sign of any life besides herself. She did not permit herself to wonder how an ornate library could be so casually attached to a club like that one. The Matrix was evidently a stranger "place" than she had ever dared to dream.

Instead she tuned her loose jumbled thoughts to Tiger, and eventually, she remembered where she had heard that name. The Oracle had spoken of someone named 'Tiger' at the Merovingian's. She felt a little better now she knew where she was, but this thought brought up the uneasy subject of the door, and she wrenched her mind from it. She was so tired...

Merging. The Oracle had been telling her about Merging, and she had said...

'You could have seen an example of it for yourself,' whispered Aerial to the bookshelves as realisation dawned.

This chilling knowledge fresh in her mind, she curled up on the sofa and slipped uneasily into a shivering sleep.

And so Persephone found her two hours later. The program entered the library and stopped still. She clearly saw Falcon's likeness in the image of a young girl curled tightly on the sofa, shuddering every few seconds. Persephone altered the intensity of her gaze and saw the ghostly greenish outline of a pair of wings, resting flush against the girl's back. She relaxed her stare and the image faded.

Curious, Persephone made her way across the carpet to the girl. Her face was smooth and ashen, resembling Falcon's refined features; the same jawline, the same high cheek bones, the same sharp nose. Her hair was longish and dark, tinted shadowy blue and tied in an efficient ponytail. A few wisps fell over her face and shifted as she breathed. Her pale attire was covered with bloodstains, and Persephone grimaced at the harsh stench of vomit. Her dark coat covered her like a blanket.

She guessed this young woman was either bait for a rescue attempt, or a safety net in case the agreement with the Rebel went sour. In either case, she was not a common prisoner, and Persephone was glad Tiger had also concluded this when he had led her away. It would not do for her to be amongst the other prisoners when she had such a close relationship with the Second Oracle.

Persephone stared at the girl again. Alas, like her twin, she had nobody in her heart either. No, wait... there was somebody growing, but it was not love yet.

It was pity.

Persephone smiled in fond frustration. Humans were such overly-complex creatures. The web of their emotions was unfathomable, and for the most part, useless. When / if that pity developed into love, she would consider bargaining. For now, she would leave her in peace. Persephone cast one more look at the girl and exited the room, as elegant as a nymph.

------

The crew of the Alethea gathered once again in the mess hall, fitting more easily due to the missing two. Sphere spoke instead of Mimic this time. Her voice was quiet. 'This morning Phoenix discovered Aerial's position. Vriha and I will go in and get her out.'

A thick silence descended.

Phoenix stood suddenly and went out. They heard her footsteps clinking on the ladder as she climbed to the main deck. Spess and Mimic followed her, Genius tagging along with them.

Vriha turned to Sphere, 'Are you sure you want to do this?'

'Don't talk to me about the risks, or else I'll never go.' She forced a bright smile, one that pulled at her cheeks just a little too tightly. 'How hard can this be anyway?'

Vriha's hand came up on an impulse and cupped her cheek, and Sphere pressed her hand to it. Vriha could not look at her. Her eyes betrayed her feelings. With his face turned away, he brought his other hand tenderly to the nape of her neck and pulled her close to him. They held each other for a minute, perhaps more, searching out their courage.

It happened so easily, like a swell in music, like a bubble in a dream.

Sphere surfaced from the deep kiss and looked into Vriha's expressive dark eyes. He stared back, searching her soul, and both saw that the other was completely set with this mission.

They awoke in the Matrix, and without a word, got into the car.

The journey was not too far, and the convertible skimmed the roads easily. The lonely road through the mountains was fresh with morning air, and a hunting eagle shrieked a lonely call high above them. A crow cawed from the pine woods and another one answered it.

The car stopped in a small shower of gravel on the path. The two Rebels got out and crept to the walls. Vriha flipped open a mobile and speed dialled. 'Where to?'

'Follow the wall around to the right, and jump in the ninth window. The architecture is weird inside there, but get to the second floor. The library is where she is. I think.'

Rain began to spit out of the grey skies as Vriha hung up. He and Sphere followed the wall around, counting the windows. Sure enough, the ninth one was unlocked, and slid easily open at Sphere's touch. They slipped into a room of glass cases housing various antique weapons. Both Rebels drew their firearms.

The occupants of the mansion seemed to be late risers, and Sphere and Vriha made it to the second floor without incident. Both had entered the hyper-alert state where every movement is cat-like and silent. Vriha moved steadily along a corridor, gently opening each door to check for the library whilst Sphere covered him.

His gut froze as he opened one door to find himself eye to eye with a young man.

Instinctively he jerked back, and tried to slam the door shut, but the man wedged a foot in the crack. There was a sickening crunch as bones shattered, but the man merely smiled wolfishly. Sphere brought her gun round, flicked off the safety and fired in one movement. The bullet thudded into the man's forehead, and he fell back. Vriha slammed the door and the two of them raced forwards, kicking open doors as they came to them.

The crash of splintering wood echoed from behind them, and Sphere whipped around to see the same man whom she had shot leering at her. A second, shorter man followed him through and stood next to him. Both wore black loose shirts and tighter trousers, giving them a musketeer-type look. The first man had leapt through the door without bothering to open it, and fragments of broken wood littered the carpet.

'Who do you think you are?' sneered the first. 'You break and enter a house, then shoot me for no apparent reason.'

'You have something of ours,' replied Sphere coolly. 'We would like it back.' She trained her two handguns on both of the strange men whilst her brain tried to comprehend the unhurt man.

'Well, the custom is to ask, isn't it?' retorted the second.

Vriha sensed their attention was diverted and softly opened the door nearest to him. Out of the corner of his eye he saw a familiar slight figure curled into herself on a leather sofa. He turned his head slowly and made a small gesture. Aerial levered herself up and came across to him. Vriha was struck by how pale the teenager was.

Sphere grew tired of the cat and mouse exchanges, and as soon as Vriha touched her back, she opened fire on the two of them. Her bullets hit home, but she suspected they would not do much good. Vriha pulled Aerial with him along the corridor as Sphere tried to reload two guns at the same time.

Vriha rounded a corner and stopped very suddenly. Too suddenly.

On the ship, Vriha's form jerked in the terrifying way Phoenix had only ever seen once in her life as an Operator.

'NO!'

The Pakistani lowered his head and stared at the switchblade embedded in his chest. His clouding gaze followed the hand holding it to the arm, then the chest, then the pallid albino face. He felt his lungs go tight as the blade withdrew, and the white hot pain began to ebb away with his life blood. He was dimly aware of someone screaming. His heart throbbed harshly in his punctured chest, spilling wave after wave of warm blood down his front. His legs lost their feeling, and he fell gently to the floor, slipping into the welcome void that welled up behind his eyes to meet him. His dark eyes closed.

Aerial lurched away from the Twins, horror and rage overwhelming her senses. Her mouth was open to scream again, but she was beyond expression of her emotions.

Sphere clenched her teeth and launched herself at the Twin holding the switchblade, beyond thoughts or words. Pure hatred fuelled and controlled her muscles, and she tore like a tame cat turned savage, wreaking havoc upon the albinos. So great was her fury that the Twins were taken aback, and she might have had a chance if the two werewolves hadn't suddenly reappeared.

Bullets thudded into Sphere, and her life was gone before she hit the floor.

A/N:: My thanks to Dark Puck for the spelling corrections and the... advice (Nudge, wink). Alterations have been made; if you experienced a déjà-vu during this period, we apologise for the inconvenience. If Aerial was feeling better, she might have tried to read a book and thus escaped, but she's still poorly-sick. Poor baby...