Title: Rescue Run

Author: Lady Rheena

Genres: Alternate Universe, Action/Adventure, Romance

Rating: R

Disclaimer: If you recognise it from a fandom, I probably don't own it. That includes the world of The Matrix, all its characters and the concepts it entails. The idea of the Fleet and the Planetary Coalition are technically my own, but you'll probably recognise bits and pieces from various sci-fi media.

Chapter notes: This chapter bubbled out before I could help it. Commander Lock is fun to write. I've also tried to make him seem a bit less of a git than he ended up in the movies- this'll become more obvious later.

Part 4- Zion

In the end, over the three day journey downwards into the tunnels towards this Zion place, it was Link who filled Dena in on the finer details. Since there wasn't a lot she could do in the main ship and she hated being a spare part, she took to sitting in the co-pilot's chair in the cockpit with him and after a few solid hours of discreetly observing his hands at work on the controls she decided she could probably pilot the Nebuchadnezzar as ably as any other surface craft she'd flown. However from Link she also learned about the legend of the One, admittedly with a rather biased prospective since it was clear the dark-skinned native thought the world of both Morpheus and Neo, and a good deal more about the workings of the apparently inescapable Matrix. In fact, if she was being honest with herself, she learned a lot more from Link's amiable nattering than she had from Morpheus' solemn monologue, and most of it more useful. He was perfectly agreeable to answering questions about anything and everything she cared to ask, and gradually she managed to build up a perspective of the civilisation of humans based around Zion that would have had an anthropologist drooling at the jowls. Link also elaborated considerably on the situation surrounding Morpheus, Neo and Trinity. By the time he had finished that particular tale Dena was outright positive that Neo had psi capability, and quite a powerful rating at that. She wasn't sure exactly what that certainty could do for her given the situation, but it at least meant that there had been none of the theorised 'evolutionary branching' that modern science considered as possible if entire worlds of the Coalition were to lose contact with each other for prolonged periods of time.

Just culture shock, which was universal, she thought without humour.

'You know Zee ain't gonna believe this when I tell her,' Link said after a brief discussion about the function of the Council in the government of Zion. He'd mentioned this elusive Zee person several times, and Dena guessed that she was the proverbial girl at home whose primary function in life appeared to be to disbelieve most of what Link told her about pretty much everything.

'She's a sceptic, then?'

'Not as such. She's into all these lucky charms and stuff- I don't get that, not at all- but she doesn't believe in the One. Thinks Morpheus is crazy,' he added in a conspiratorial whisper.

'I get the impression she's not alone in that idea.'

'Yeah, that's true. Like old Deadbolt- Lock, I mean, the Commander- he's got a real problem with Morpheus and the Oracle and all that stuff. Me, I go on what I find. And what I've seen Neo do in the Matrix…well, if Lock had seen what I'd seen, I think we might even make a believer out of him.'

Dena briefly debated dropping the bombshell but decided against it. From what she could gather of this Lock character, or Deadbolt as he seemed to be known (and not with affection, she could tell), he seemed more of the military man she was accustomed to- pragmatism, perfectionism and persistence, according to Commander Pryce, were the three essential Ps of a good commanding officer. That made her smile and Link gave her a curious look.

'What's funny?'

'Nothing. Just thinking of my commanding officer.'

'Oh yeah? What's he like?'

'Actually Lock sounds a lot like him. Typical commander. We- the lower ranks, that is- call him Wingeye.'

'Wingeye, huh? Why's that?'

'He used to be a fighter pilot, like me. You get to command different ways, in Fleet. Some work up on ground installations- although they don't usually end up on a supership haulier, to be fair- some come through mechanics or engineering, some through marines, but he came through the best way.'

'Yeah, I bet a marine, a mechanic and a ground guy'd all tell that different,' Link said with a grin. 'Like that in Dock- you'll see when we get there. The infantry go tearing about how all the ship crews know how to do is bounce around in the Matrix, the ship crews bitch about the infantry being foot-based losers, the mech crews complain about people not taking care of equipment and everyone hates the APU corps cos they have this habit of trampling all over everyone's toes even when they're not in the damn walkers.' He sighed. 'But in a pinch, we all pull together. We got to, to survive.' Breaking into another disarming grin, he winked at her. 'Mind you, between you and me, it's got to be a pretty darn huge pinch, know what I'm saying?'

That did make her laugh, but his attention was drawn to the scope display instead of another reply. Tapping commands into the keypad set between the control joysticks he slowed the ship down to a crawl of what Dena judged to be around 40kph, then pulled a headset from his pocket and fixed it over one ear, adjusting it with the ease of great familiarity so that the mic rested just below his chin.

'Sir, we're coming up to gate three.'

'Acknowledged,' came Morpheus' reply via the main ship intercom.

'He'll feed through the access codes now,' Link explained to Dena. 'Without those the gates don't open, and we get blown apart to boot.'

'Let's hope he remembers them properly.'

'Now I ain't never heard of that happening!' Abruptly he turned businesslike. 'Zion control, this is the Nebuchadnezzar approaching dock gate three.'

Dena settled back in the chair as he went through the procedures- and there were fixed procedures here, she could easily see. Link's informal, easygoing manner was gone, replaced with cool efficiency as he entered commands into the navigation systems, responding to instructions given by whoever was on the other end of that com line. Finally it was done and they passed in through two gargantuan steel gates while an APU- a ground unit that Dena was perfectly familiar with from her own forces- pointed both barrels at the tunnel beyond in case of pursuit. Of course there was none and the gate began to slowly close before the Nebuchadnezzar's tail had quite cleared it. Dena was surprised by the dock area- it wasn't as big as even Phobos orbital, but far more sophisticated than she'd expected. The people of Zion, it seemed, had become experts at recycling and salvaging existing components. And there were a lot of docks, too. She took a brief count and realised that if in fact the assumption of one dock per available ship was made, that put the Zion fleet at well over one hundred a fifty ships- again, more than she thought. She really ought to stop underestimating these people.

'Welcome to Zion,' Link said to her with a wide grin.

'It's big,' was all she could say.

'Don't sound so surprised!'

Once the Neb was settled on her pad and technicians had come running across with power feed lines, diagnostic cables and all the other paraphernalia usually attached to a docked ship, Dena hefted her carisac and followed Trinity down the ramp. Neo and Link walked a little in front, flanking Morpheus with an air that struck her as almost protective. Strange, that a crew should feel the need to protect their captain in home dock…

Immediately they set foot on the concrete flooring a loud shout came from the other side of the walkway beyond and a grey-clad figure came scurrying towards them. Neo groaned but the others seemed to find it amusing.

'That's the Kid,' Trinity said to Dena in an undertone. 'The problem with the life you save…'

'It keeps coming back to haunt you?' Dena grinned at her. 'Hero worship.'

'Exactly.'

The Kid, which seemed to be his only real designation, skidded to a halt. He didn't look more than fifteen, maybe a young sixteen, but he was a typical bouncing, overeager teenager at that. Dena tried not to notice the dark metal plugs in his arms or the thicker socket at the base of his skull which stood out shockingly against his pale skin and glinted in the light.

'Hey Morpheus, Link- it's good to have you back. Hi Neo!' This last was with such blatant over-enthusiasm that Dena had to bite her lip to hide a smile, although she noticed Trinity doing the same thing.

'Hey Kid,' Neo said neutrally.

'Can I-'

'Is Captain Mifune around?' Morpheus asked, cutting off whatever overhelpful offer the lad was about to make.

'Yeah, Morpheus, I think I seen him. You want him? I'll get him!' The Kid was off again before anyone could contradict his plan.

'You'd think he'd have something better to do…' Neo muttered.

'I think he has his uses,' Morpheus observed dryly as they watched the boy come storming out of the central control building with a rather harried-looking figure in tow. This turned about to be another russet-skinned captain- Mifune, who commanded the APU corps, as Dena later learned. He gave a world-weary sigh when he saw who he had been summoned by.

'Captain Morpheus, what can I do for you?'

Morpheus handed Link his own rough shoulder bag and stepped forwards, motioning to Dena to follow him. She did so, but kept a firm grip on her carisac.

'I need to speak with Commander Lock immediately.'

'Well why in hell do you need-' but then Dena caught Mifune's eye. He stopped midsentence and stared at her, noting the quality of her clothing, the lean muscle on her frame unmoderated by the vaguely consumptive look that most of the denizens of Terra appeared to carry. 'Who the heck is this, Morpheus?'

'The reason I need to speak with the commander,' Morpheus said calmly. 'As quickly and…quietly as possible.'

Mifune nodded.

'That I can do.' He glanced back at the Kid. 'You, scram. And not a word of this, or a sentinel's going to seem like a pleasant alternative to me when I'm pissed off.'

Morpheus glanced back at his crew.

'Link, get the ship recharged and begin those repairs we've been putting off. All of you, get some rest.'

'Yes sir.' The trio exchanged glances and moved off, the Kid hovering around Neo like an errant mayfly and apparently buzzing just as much.

'So, who are you?' Mifune asked, this time addressing Dena directly.

'Captain Dena Reese, pilot first grade, attached to HSS Gormenghast under Commander Wesley Pryce,' she recited promptly, and then waited for his reaction. It was almost exactly as she'd expected- a vaguely worried look, then a sigh and immediate dismissal.

'Morpheus, do you really want to drag Lock into this obvious case of insanity and delusions?'

'Not insanity, Captain,' Morpheus said in his usual quiet tone. Dena kept her gaze level with Mifune's, trying to look as sane as she possibly could.

'Believe me, Captain, if I were in your position I'd be saying exactly the same thing. Except probably with a few more profanities thrown in.'

He gave another sigh, like a man submitting to the inevitable headaches that were going to ensue.

'All right, Morpheus. On your head be it.'

He led them along the walkway to a large personnel lift at the end of it, which took them down a short way. They emerged into a rough rock passageway lined with metal grills for flooring. Dena noticed a new tension in the set of Morpheus' shoulders and was intrigued. They were in a survival situation, sure, but such outright hostility between a commanding officer and one of his captains was not a good thing at all. She was getting very interested by this Lock, very interested indeed.

'Good luck,' Mifune said, although whether it was directed at herself or at Morpheus she didn't know. He promptly turned and walked away. Morpheus gave her an unreadable look and knocked. A deep voice from within called for them to enter.

Once again, Dena was surprised. Lock was dark skinned with a brutally short crop of black hair, heavy brows and enough lines on his face that she could easily believe he was the sole commander of Zion's heavily put-upon defensive forces, although she guessed that he was in fact younger than he looked- perhaps in his early forties, or maybe a little older. Certainly not the ancient old battleaxe she'd expected. His eyes were a deep chestnut brown, but where Morpheus and the impenetrable Neo had gentle, warm gazes, his when he looked up was brutal and shrewd; the look of a man who had seen too much wanton destruction to be bothered any longer with such mundane things as pleasantries.

'Captain Morpheus.' Now that was an entire conversation in a single phrase. Dena had a sudden impression of great and tired calm; vast energies had been expended between these two, and now they seemed to find it best to just get on with things, the storm blown out. While Lock's attention was on her companion, she cast her gaze carefully around the room. It was clearly a purpose-built office, with extensive plasfilm plans and blueprints fastened to every inch of the walls. But there was a definite order in the manner of arrangement. One wall appeared to be city plans. Another was a level by level breakdown of the dock area. Either side of the door were small geoscans of the tunnel area immediately surrounding the city. Glancing discreetly down at the desk he was sitting behind, she noted that the at first seemingly haphazard piles of film were in fact in specific piles. A small notebook of old fashioned woodpulp paper (apparently the main means for the written word in Zion, as she'd seen several people scurrying about with clipboards in the dock) sat next to a keypad for the screen fixed to the wall precisely at eye level. A slightly closer scrutiny of the sheets at the top of the pile revealed some to have written notes in a neat, precise hand. Block capitals used for maximum readability. This was a man who liked order and sense, to have things arranged in a manner where everything had a proper place and so was easily accessible when needed. Military indeed. And very like Commander Pryce in that respect.

Suddenly aware that Morpheus had stopped talking and she was being stared at, she assumed a captain's easy stance- alert, but without the bone-jarring rigidity that greener ranks tended to show- and fixed her gaze on a point about ten centimetres above Lock's left shoulder.

'Well.' His voice was as careful as his office arrangements, but positively dripped with open disdain. 'Identify yourself, soldier.'

Dena almost laughed outright but kept her face passive and snapped to attention, switching effortlessly to the crisp, barking tones of address used to keep cranky commanding officers on their toes.

'Captain Dena Reese pilot first grade, attached to HSS Gormenghast, serial number oh-two-one-nine-nine-three-four-six-eight sir!'

'Good God, Morpheus,' Lock exclaimed. 'What is this? We don't have any Gormenghast and- dammit, this is clearly a case of extreme self-delusion and very probably VDTs. Why in the hell did you bring her to me?'

'The VDTs tested negative, sir,' Morpheus said mildly. Use of the word sir clearly didn't come easily to him. 'And I think you'll find that Captain Reese is in fact quite lucid.'

'Morpheus, I ought to have you thrown in the stockade for wasting my goddamn time!'

'Permission to speak freely, sir,' Dena put in. He gave her a look of distaste.

'Very well, captain. Permission granted.'

She activated her wrist scanner and consulted it for a moment, relaxing from her rigid stance.

'Sir, if I'm not mistaken this cavern appears to be approximately twelve metres down from the main dock level, the walls composed mainly of bauxite, granite and other igneous rock material. There's a fifteen volt power cable running along that wall to connect to the system screen here. Furthermore sir, if you'll excuse the personal observation, I see you have a three centimetre square metal plate in your backbone and a two millimetre diameter pin supporting the joint in your left knee. Looks like you've seen some action in your time, sir.' Closing the scanner, she regarded him for a moment. He didn't look particularly impressed.

'You've done your homework, captain. Congratulations. Morpheus, get out of here and take her with you before I change my mind about that visit to the stockade.'

'Believe me sir, if I were in your position I'd be saying exactly the same thing,' Dena said quickly. She dropped her carisac on his desk and pulled out one of her pistols, turning it to present the grip to him. He started and then cautiously accepted it, giving it a cursory inspection.

'Antique. Looks like one of the old firearms. Not much use here, I'm afraid.' Now she could see he was getting irritated, but then so was she. Pulling the other out of its holster she fired a single shot at the ceiling. The laser bolt was clearly visible as it impact the rocky roof. A small amount of dust drifted down.

'Laser shot?' Ah, now she had his attention. He stared at her, disdain vanished. 'Where in the hell did you get that gun?'

'Standard Fleet issue, sir. Type B lasgun sidearm. Wish I had a type A to show you but if I fired one of those at the roof we'd have had a bit of a cave-in on our hands. Something else you might find interesting-' opening the neck of the carisac, she took out a grenade and handed it to him. 'Don't pull the pin unless you want to knock out your hardware, Commander. That's an EMP flash grenade. Got a default activation radius of about fifty metres.'

'EMP flash grenade?' he repeated, this time with a kind of incredulous amazement. Morpheus, Dena noted, had stepped back and was watching with interest from just beside the doorway.

'We call this a blast bug,' she went on, drawing out what looked like a hand-long tube with three hooked legs at the bottom of it. 'You definitely don't want to let that off in here, sir. One megaton nuclear blast, producing all the standard features with the bonus of low-level fallout with a half life of around three milliseconds. Short spell nuke with all the punch and none of the mess afterwards. The legs on the bottom are magnetic. You can set it to go off on impact or by remote activation. I'd recommend the latter, since a megaton nuke is a megaton nuke and you don't want to get caught at the edge of a blast from this l'il fella.'

'How convenient that a demonstration isn't practical,' Lock said with a measured level of doubt in his voice. Dena shrugged, took out another EMP flash, reset the range to one metre, the timing to twelve seconds decay constant, and let it off. There was a brief fizzing sound and the lights went out. Groping inside the carisac, she found a nonelectric glow tube and shook it open, bathing the blackened chamber in a dim yellowish light and revealing the now-shocked face of Commander Lock.

'Sorry about that sir but scepticism can be a terrible thing. It's not high intensity so your circuits won't be wiped. But I'd bet it could knock out one or two of those sentinel things long enough for some of your people to make a getaway.' Right on cue, the lights flickered and came back on as the remainder of the pulse dissipated. Dena snapped the glow tube shut and stowed it in her bag. The disdain on Lock's face had been replaced by cautious interest and a new level of respect.

'What ship did you say you were with, Captain?'

'The Gormenghast, sir. She's HSS, a haulier supership, currently docked at Phobos orbital base. I was on a recon mission to Terra Luna in the hopper ship Mariposa when I had problems with my engines and was forced to crash land on the surface.'

'Are you telling me you were flying in a spaceship, Captain?'

'That's mostly what I fly sir, yes. Although the term spaceship is a somewhat…antiquated one.'

'And where is this ship of yours?'

'On the surface. I headed underground, sir, because as you're undoubtedly aware the it's less than hospitable up there and I had a close-up view of some of those sentinel machines that I wasn't eager to repeat. And to answer your next question, the Mariposa is a write-off. I brought her in on minimal thrusters sir, and she flew like a brick in shit, to quote my old flight instructor's favourite phrase.'

'And the Nebuchadnezzar found you in one of the tunnels?'

'At BC 2-18, sir,' Morpheus interjected.

'That's a helluva long way down, Captain,' Lock said, sitting back and steepling his fingers in front of him. 'How long have you been here?'

'From landing to when the Neb found me was approximately one hundred and fifty hours, sir. To this moment I've been here nine days in all.'

'And you survived in the tunnels on your own for the better part of a week?' Now the scepticism had returned.

'I did, sir.' She took the scattering beacon off her belt and held it out. 'This device scatters my body heat signal and recalibrates as my surroundings change. As long as nothing actually sees me, I'm undetectable.'

'Useful gadget,' Lock said grudgingly. He looked at her thoughtfully for a moment, turning the beacon over in his hands. 'Could you give me co-ordinates for your crash site on the surface?'

'I imagine so, sir. If I can reference my scanner to your grid system I should be able to give you a perfectly precise reference.'

He nodded and reached for a comlink, issuing a rapid set of orders to some unfortunate on the other end. Then he looked up at Morpheus.

'Dismissed, Captain. And tell no one of this. Ensure your crew keep their mouths shut.'

'As you wish, Commander,' Morpheus said neutrally, and turned to leave as a younger man loaded down with rolled up plasfilms came through the door. After he'd unloaded them onto a chair he was gone, and Dena was alone in the room with Lock. He pointed to one of the wall charts.

'That is a grid breakdown of the dock area. If we can cross-reference three of your grid readings with ours we should end up with a conversion system.'

Dena nodded and examined three points- the pad where the Neb had set down, the lift shaft and the room they were currently in. Comparing it with the charts, they converted and then Lock rummaged through the plasfilms before unrolling a specific one onto his desk.

'Not exactly prime real estate up there, is it?' Dena observed.

'The surface is a general no-go zone,' he responded. 'Point me to your ship, Captain.'

She consulted the scanner's log and stabbed a finger at the page. 'Right there, sir. Unfortunately I can only give you an accurate to within about a square kilometre, but that's the square she's in. Or what's left of her.'

'Is there nothing salvageable?'

'I doubt it, sir. At least not what I'd call salvageable but your people seem to have a much broader definition of the term.' He seemed to like this. 'All her circuits are fried. Hoppers aren't designed for planetary landings, let alone through that mess of cloud and shit you got for a sky. And bringing her in on thrusters only…'

'I see. But there should at least be wreckage to see. What can you tell me about this ship that will make it easier to find in that kilometre?'

'I can give you alloy compositions, sir. Mostly she's an artificial titanium amalgamate, which should stand out like a sore thumb on your scopes. Are you planning to send a search party, sir? I was the only crew.'

'I'd feel better finding some less conveniently portable evidence for your story, Captain,' he replied coolly. 'Gadgets and gizmos are one thing, but a spaceship is quite another. As luck would have it this spot is far enough from any machine surface installations to warrant a judicious investigation by one of our ships. In the meantime, you'll remain in the city under guard.' His tone turned to almost genuine regret. 'I apologise if I seem unduly suspicious, Captain. But these are suspicious and dangerous times.'

'On the contrary, sir, I'd think you were the one pulling an elaborate hoax if you did anything otherwise.' She tried a small smile. 'I haven't served under any commanding officer who'd act differently given the circumstances.'

'You've a disciplined outlook, Captain. Is this Fleet of yours military?'

'Indeed it is, sir.'

'Good. Then I won't have to battle through superstition and hearsay in our dealings. That I appreciate.'

'By superstition, sir, are you referring to this talk of the One that I've heard so much about?'

'I am.' He narrowed his eyes slightly and this time she was bold enough to grin.

'Put people in a rat pit and they make gods out of the fleas. Put them in a flea pit and they'll make gods out of each other, sir.'

For some reason he seemed to find this amusing, and a shadow of a smile crossed his face.

'Is that a quote from somewhere, Captain?'

'I imagine so, sir. I heard it from my squad captain when I was an ensign fresh out of the Academy. At the time he was referring to the isolationist colony on Sigma Beta.'

'Perhaps after we find your ship I can hear the full story,' he said as the door opened and another more junior officer came in. 'Lieutenant, escort Captain Reese to quarters near dock level. I want a guard on her door twenty four hours a day until you're notified otherwise, understood?'

'Yes, sir. This way please, ma'am.'

'Until we speak again, Captain,' Lock added.

'As you say, Commander,' she replied neutrally, and the door closed.