The Matrix: Legacy
Fifteen
Escape
It was time, and Morgain didn't have much on her hands. It had taken her awhile to get everything she needed without arousing suspicion and a lot of sheer, dumb luck to keep from getting caught. She'd made herself a sort of make-shift backpack out of a pillowcase and torn clothing and stuffed it mainly with scrounged food, which consisted mostly of Goldfish and a few boxes of Milk Duds. She had even managed to score a few half-litre bottles of Mountain Dew via late night binge drinking of caffeine and saving the bottles. Considering the winter season and the mountain climate, she also stuffed in warm clothes when she could.
It didn't hurt that the people who were supposed to be watching her closely to prevent such things seemed unusually entranced by her dancing. Did no one here go clubbing?
She also thought that Matthias had had something to do with the transfer of her purloined goods to the balcony, including the long rope she'd managed to piece together over many long, noisy, sleepless nights.
Going back over her eating and sleeping habits of the past... week and a half? Two weeks? Whatever, it was no wonder she'd had a nightmare like that when the only decent meal she ate was at that restaurant once every other day or so and when she averaged three hours or so of sleep a night.
Whatever, soon she'd be home - if she had to hitchhike to do it, she would - and would be able to sleep, sleep, sl33p! She gave herself a mental slap for mentally using the 'netslang known as 'l33t sp34k' as she wandered outside. She'd made it a habit to stand outside, watching the stars for an hour or so before coming in and changing for bed. That gave her sixty minutes, maybe less, to get down and out of here. White tickled her nose and she looked up.
Shit.
It was starting to snow.
Look on the bright side. It'll cover your tracks. God, I'm gonna be cold. As soon as humanly possible, she was going to layer on those clothes she'd shoved in her pack. Taking up the end of her rope, she tied it to a corner of the balcony where no windows were in the way, climbed over, and walked her way down, keeping a tight hold on the rope.
Halfway down, she felt something give and looked up; one of her knots had loosened. Oh shit oh shit oh shit oh shit became a mantra for her as she rappelled faster, praying she'd reach bottom before the rope gave way.
Yeah, right.
It was a good thing she had no voice, or she would have screamed as she fell the last few feet to the ground. Somehow she managed to land on her feet, lose her balance, retain it, and walk forward a step only to slip and fall on her face.
Oh, someone upstairs is laughing their ass off over this, she thought sourly. And when I die and meet them, they won't be laughing anymore. She got up and started walking, watching her breath appear in small puffs of fog before her. Who ever said Hell was fiery? I'd lay all my money that Hell is cold, and that this place is the Gate.
It just snowed harder.
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It was late, at least as far as Ghost was concerned when Sparks stumbled in. "Ghost, wake up!" he ordered, grabbing the Ghost by the shoulders and attempting to drag him out of bed. In reply, Ghost's arms automatically wound around the bed - all the beds were more like cots, for space reasons - and locked tight, making it impossible to dislodge him.
Ghost was unfairly strong for a podborn.
Fortunately, Sparks knew his weakness.
Even more fortunately, there was a girl on board that wasn't Niobe, so he could talk her into applying the weakness. "Oh Danaë," he called softly into the room she shared with Niobe. Luckily, Niobe, like most ship captains, tended to wake from sleep only to alarm claxons or an operator's curse.
Danaë was a much lighter sleeper. She came to the door in an overlarge shirt, rubbing sleepsand from her eyes. "Hmm? Sparks, whass wrong?" she asked in the groggy tone of the non-morning-people. It could've been worse, Sparks reasoned. When not pulled from bed by an emergency, Niobe devolved straight past Neanderthal to the point-and-grunt stage of human communication, at least until she had her coffee.
No one knew just how it was coffee beans managed to flourish underground, but most of the Fleet would be unoperational without it, so it all worked out in the end.
"We have a situation. I need help getting Ghost up; he's being decidedly stubborn."
When Sparks used the word 'situation' with that expression on his face, he was being serious. Danaë was alert immediately. "How can I help?"
He whispered in her ear and, serious situation or no, she giggled anyway. "Really?"
"I'll upload you another combat program if it doesn't work."
"Deal," she said swiftly, following him to the room Krsna and Ghost shared.
The Indian was awake now, watching with interest. "Y'goin' t' poke him with a stick?" he asked in a yawn.
"Even better." Sparks grinned maliciously. "Go for it, baby."
Danaë slid in close to Ghost, who still had his arms locked around the cot. She was amazed his arms could reach; Ghost was by no means a large man. However, it left a certain spot vulnerable... and armed with the information Sparks had given her, she was ready to make use of that one weakness of Zen Ghost's.
She leaned down and began swiftly walking her fingers up and down his sides, tickling him. Without any warning, his arms came up and around, locking behind him and pinning her to his back. "Sparks," he started, then his brain caught up with the rest of him as he realised that the person held tightly against his back was most definitely not Sparks.
He let go, his ears bright red; Danaë herself was red-faced to the extreme. She matched her hair, at least. Ghost glanced at Danaë before turning to Sparks. "This had better be good, O Neurotic One."
"Indeed it is, O Logical One," Sparks shot back. "She's cleared out."
The three ex-coppertops stared at him. "What?"
"The girl, whatshername, Trinity's sister - she's out of the château. Went over the balcony. She's hoofing it like-" Sparks suddenly realised he was talking to an empty room. Ghost had grabbed Dana's arm and bolted out, Krsna hot on his heels.
Sparks followed, impressed despite himself. Yeah, the girl was most definitely Trinity's sister. Only Trinity would have tried something this drastic, brave, and stupid.
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Matthias Brown watched the girl flee, his face carefully blank. There was a fair chance that even the former Agent didn't know what game he was playing at. Just made it more of a challenge. Brown liked challenges. He always had, even if the challenge was nothing more than the brainteasers in the papers. He always had fun challenging his mental capacities... perhaps it was this, more than anything else, that had driven him ultimately to the Merovingian.
The challenge of being a bodyguard... as well as the challenge of finding or programming himself a shell so he could free the child in whom he now dwelled.