Disclaimer: The Matrix and all its appendages are the brainchildren of Larry and Andy Wachowski and are carefully guarded by Warner Brothers. Enter the Matrix was developed by Shiny Entertainment and produced by Infogames. This is purely a piece of nonprofit entertainment. Cursum Perficio is the title of a song on Enya's Watermark CD.
More thank yous to Blake for proofreading the chapter. :)
Chapter Two: Wants and Needs
"This is Zion Control to the Logos. Gate Three is standing down; your path is cleared to Bay Two. Welcome home."
"Thank you Control. It's good to be home," Niobe answered through the intercom in the cockpit before switching it off and returning her attention to parking the ship in the appointed docking bay.
"Damn good," Ghost agreed, breathing in a sigh of relief. Before the Logos, the immense metal gates that protected Zion from machine onslaughts began to shift apart with an ancient-sounding series of clicks, and a shaft of strong light from the docking bay broke through the opening, illuminating the interior of the cockpit like an aura. Ghost closed his eyes in a small moment of meditation, welcoming the presence of the light after spending so long hiding in the dim tunnels of the Real. Complete serenity and safety emanated from Zion's lights. However, in his Zen-like state, he was easily able to discern a flicker of discomfort regarding the light inside the Logos, disturbing the outer calm like a tiny ripple in a pool of water. He didn't need to ask where it was coming from. He already knew.
"Your eyes still hurt, don't they?" he asked Niobe gently, concern replacing his sense of calm.
"I'm fine. I just spent a bit too much time in the dark on this run," she answered as she maneuvered their tiny vessel onto a landing platform.
Ghost said nothing more, but wasn't convinced.
When Niobe had jacked out, Sparks had insisted on giving both of them a thorough physical. While both officers were showing strong signs of mental and physical fatigue, Niobe had two other things: a bruise on her neck that wouldn't go away, and a sudden increased sensitivity to bright lights.
Cases of this were virtually normal among ship crews because they spent so much time in badly lit hovercrafts. The condition was even present inside the Matrix, which was why most rebels wore sunglasses. But Niobe's sudden hypersensitivity was extremely odd. The condition just didn't worsen so drastically overnight, let alone over a few hours.
Niobe had dismissed Sparks' concerns, telling him that he was overreacting, and had gone about her duties. Initially, Ghost had thought the same thing. While Sparks usually acted flippant and even self-centred at times, Ghost knew that he secretly felt responsible for whatever injuries they sustained while on a mission. The Chateau and Industrial Hallway had rendered him to a spectator.
But, as Ghost had observed Niobe as they made their way back to Zion, while she ate her meals (where she ate significantly less than usual), when he relieved her of duty (she refused to be relieved, snapping that she wasn't tired and could drive fine), and when she spoke (which was far less than normal, given that she hadn't said more than five words at a time), he could see that something was wrong with her. He had known Niobe for many years, and she was acting in a way that was very uncharacteristic of her normally tough but cheerful nature. She was closed, aloof, and physically weak, even though she would never admit it.
After the Logos has docked and Niobe had left, retreating for her quarters, Ghost lingered behind to talk with Sparks, at his request.
"Ghost," Sparks began hurriedly, already assuming that he was going to be chastised again, "I know you're probably going to just tell me that I'm...overreacting, or something like that, but you've got to believe me. Something screwy is going on with Niobe. I saw it. Something is wrong with her!"
"I believe you," Ghost replied simply.
"I'm not crazy man, why can't you just-" Sparks stopped in mid-sentence, finally registering what Ghost had said. "I'm sorry...did I just hear you...agreeing with me?"
"You sound surprised."
Sparks glared sarcastically at his superior officer before cracking a smile. "Heh. There may be hope for you yet," he quipped.
Ghost rolled his eyes and forced Sparks back onto the topic at hand. "You said you saw something happen to her? I assume you mean other than the fact that she was assaulted by one of those programs that were running around in the Chateau."
"Yea. It...it's kind of hard to describe. I didn't actually see something hurt her in the code. Her vitals died when she was knocked out, but I couldn't see what was going on in there. But once you and her got out of that place and those Twin things were chasing you, she looked different. Like some kind of virus had infected her RSI. But not like a flu virus. More like a computer virus. That's really the only way I can describe it."
"Sparks, are you sure? Both of us were in the middle of a volatile situation. Are you certain that it wasn't just some mark of stress?" Ghost pressed. He wanted to be absolutely sure that both he and Sparks were not overreacting.
"Ghost, give me some credit here! I stare at your RSIs nonstop while you're in the Matrix," Sparks argued, "I've stared at them for two years! They haven't changed much! And I'm telling you, the shit I saw running through her RSI was not stress. I'm positive that it was some kind of virus, one that I've never seen before in my life. It was running around her code and changing stuff!"
Ghost nodded, staring off into space as he went over what Sparks was saying. Despite whatever shortcomings the operator had, Ghost knew that he wouldn't lie about something like this. His explanation was their only one until they managed to convince Niobe to see a doctor.
"We have to make her see someone about this," he eventually declared somberly, clearly not liking the prospect. "And soon. I have a feeling that it's only going to get worse, if what you're saying is true."
"I know," the operator agreed, catching Ghost's eye, "but what exactly can we do? It's like you said: it's always her way or the highway once she's made up her mind. If she thinks she's fine, she's not going to listen to us."
"We could file something with our superiors."
"You mean talk to Deadbolt," Sparks corrected, catching Ghost's meaning.
"Basically."
Sparks scoffed at the suggestion. "Oh, she'll love us for that. Going to her boyfriend."
"Do you have any better ideas?" Ghost asked. His companion stared down at him challengingly with his pale blue eyes before lowering his head in defeat.
"No. What bothers me is that she'll be taken off duty, whether we do something or not. I don't want to be around when that happens."
She didn't tell anyone except Joseph about Richard's unwanted attention. In fact, she wouldn't even have told him had he not forced the issue out of her.
They were sitting on benchtables outside a fast food joint near the highway. She said nothing while she munched away at her hot dog, happy just to have Joseph around. Eventually though, he set down his soda and looked at her questioningly.
"Something's up," he observed pointedly, fiddling with his plastic straw has he caught her eye. She blinked in surprise and quickly tried to compose herself.
"Why do you say that?" she responded, suddenly finding her paper plate to be quite intriguing.
"Because you suck at hiding it from me. I am your best friend, after all. So spill. You want to talk about it."
"It's nothing," she asserted, more to herself than to Joseph.
He frowned, clearly not accepting her answer, but then shrugged and put on his own indifferent face. "Fine. Whatever you say."
She tried to brush off the topic too and finish eating, but now that he had started to press her about it, she couldn't. He was right; she did want to talk about it. She just didn't want to admit it.
"It's just-"
She stopped talking almost as soon as she started. It was nothing serious, she reminded herself. She knew that. Hundreds of people went through worse shit, and here she was making a big deal out of something so small. She hated herself for letting it get to her. It made her feel weak and whiny, something she absolutely abhorred.
Joseph remained silent, but kept his brown eyes locked on hers. She stared back, scrutinizing his look. He wasn't challenging her. She knew that look all too well, having seen it dozens of times in races. No, he was just looking at her, ready to accept whatever she had to say. Joseph knew she needed to talk and he was willing to listen. That was all. She couldn't say no to it, and started to get the whole thing off her chest.
"It's that asshole, Richard. The one I told you about a while ago," she blurted, lowering her eyes in defeat.
"The guy who grabbed you? Is he still doing that?" Joseph asked, his face developing a sour expression as if they were discussing some form of lower life scum.
"Yes," she admitted, "and yes, he's still following me around and stuff. I can handle that. The thing is-"
He picked up on her concerns and voiced them for her. "You're afraid he might do something more. That he might try to bang you up."
She nodded, taking a gulp of her drink to soothe her suddenly parched throat. It felt like she hadn't had anything to drink all day.
"I know he tried it on another girl. When she went to the manager, he called her a liar and threw her out. He won't believe anything anyone has got to say about him when it's bad. The two are all buddy-buddy, you know?"
"You should quit," Joseph said bluntly. It was the safest option. But instead she shook her head.
"Joseph, I can't. I need the money. I've got to help pay for bills at home now, and I have to get my car back. And God knows there ain't any other jobs around here. If I quit, I'll be kicked outta my house for not paying rent, and I'll have no way to make money unless I can get my car back."
She sighed in exasperation, clenching her fists. "I can't believe I'm worked up over this. It's so frustrating! I want to do something, but I can't. I swear, if I were racing that bastard, he'd learn a lesson. But without my car…I'm nothing."
It felt like an eternity of nothing but the white noise of speeding cars coming from behind her before her friend answered her. "You know what I think Vivian?" he eventually said, "I think you need to learn how to fight. Like karate, or kickboxing or something. That way you can fight back if he tries something. You'd be good at that."
"I'm a little small to be intimidating," she answered with a laugh, unable to understand where that idea had come from.
"Don't be so unsure. You know the dojo down by the theater? The teacher there can't be more than an inch taller than you, and I've seen him kick the asses of men twice his size."
"You've been learning there?" she asked. It would be the only reason that he would know about the master.
"Not for long, but I know that he'd teach you in a second if you asked."
"I don't know..."
Joseph grabbed her hand and caught her eye again. "I know that if you put your mind to it, you'll feel stronger. You'll not only be Niobe behind the wheel, but all the time. It helps that much, Viv. That's how it makes me feel. I'm not just Thadeus when I'm racing anymore. I'm always Thadeus. It's who I am now. I feel invincible, and I know you will too. So whaddya say?"
She resigned herself to his suggestion and nodded. What the hell, it couldn't hurt to try, right?
"Well, I can't say no to that."
Niobe reminisced about that conversation from so long ago as she sank into a chair in her quarters as Jason left, closing the metal hatch on his way out. It still hadn't quite sunk in that Thadeus, and the rest of his crew, were dead. While she had always known that it might happen, and she had imagined feeling overwhelmed by sadness and tears in its wake, she felt none of these things. She was completely numb, and the only thing she could think of in relation to his death was that she'd never get to talk to him again. Their conversations had always been among her favorite memories. Now, there wouldn't be any more of them to reminisce about.
As these things ran through her mind, she instinctively shielded her face from the artificial lighting above her. It was too bright, and she wanted nothing more than to get into her room and have a hot shower in the dark. Resolved to make it so, she stood up and moved to the lightswitch, killing the lights.
Will I ever be able to be open with anyone else like that? she wondered, locking her door securely and heading for the shower stall, is there anyone else that I'm really that close with?
The only possible person she could think of was Jason, the man that she had just kissed a few minutes ago in the same room. It had struck her as he left that her kiss had not been the passionate embrace Persephone had demanded, but rather the chaste, unloving kiss that she had initially given the shapely program. She tried to justify it, telling herself that he deserved a cheapass kiss. Hell, he didn't even ask me how I was doing! Despite her best efforts, the dismal thoughts remained, rendering her mind as dark as her room.
Niobe slammed her palm against the wall in annoyance, and accidentally nicked it against a shard of outcropping metal. A small streak of red blood began to seep through the cut as she registered the pain, and she looked at it curiously, mesmerized by the blood flow. Instead of pressing a piece of cloth to it to stop the blood, as she would have done under normal circumstances, she pressed the open cut to her mouth and sucked on the cut, savoring the coppery blood.
It was by far the best tasting thing that she had drank since her mission in the Matrix. I never knew that blood could taste so good, she thought, unable to stop herself from drinking her own blood.
Less than an hour later, Sparks and Ghost marched purposely through Control's Headquarters, coming to an uneasy stop in front of one of the bulky doors. The air on Control was abnormally tense; everyone was on edge because of the approaching armada, and protecting the city from it was going to be a daunting task to say the least.
The two crewmates also felt the weight of hard times ahead, but for slightly different reasons. They weren't about to have a showdown with an armada. They were about to do something far more daring (and possibly stupider).
They were about to contend with Commander Lock. He wasn't called Deadbolt just because it was funny.
Sparks reached for the handle of the metal hatch, and abruptly pulled back from it as if it were made of molten lava.
"I don't think this is a good idea," he declared in a hushed tone to Ghost, who shook his head in dismay, allowing a tinge of annoyance to cross his normally placid expression.
"Sparks, I thought we decided that this was our best course of action," he reminded the operator, who nodded, staring at the floor.
"The best idea we could think of, yes. But that still doesn't make it a good one," Sparks replied. He sounded as if he expected a Squiddy to come out from behind the door once they opened it.
Ghost couldn't help but feel the same way deep down, but there was nothing either of they could do about it at this point. It was best to simply accept it as what it was. To seal their fate, Ghost rapped his hand across Lock's door. There was no turning back now.
"Come in."
Inside, Commander Jason Lock, commander of Zion's defense force, was sitting at his desk with his usual sour look. Ghost couldn't tell if he was upset about Zion's state of unrest or if he was just displeased at seeing them. Neither seemed to be too far of a stretch.
"Gentlemen, I hope that this is a pressing matter. In case you haven't noticed, there's a war going on and I have to organize the city's defense," he said in welcome, barely looking up from his desk. Ghost and Sparks exchanged glances, Sparks clearly encouraging Ghost to take the lead.
"Believe me Commander, this is something that couldn't wait until the debriefings," Ghost answered assuredly, conceding to Sparks' silent plea. Lock finally looked up and regarded the two questioningly, not wanting to beat around the bush.
"It concerns Niobe," Ghost continued, stressing her name. Lock blinked in surprise at the topic and laid down his work, finally giving them his full attention. His actions gave Ghost a sense of hope. Maybe this would work out well.
"What about her?" the Commander asked coolly.
"Have you been to see her?" Ghost asked.
"I have, although I don't see why that's any business of yours," Lock answered hesitantly before snapping back onto the defensive.
Ghost shook his head and kneeled down so that he was at eye level with the commander, while Sparks continued to hover in the background, unsure of what to say or do.
"Then I'm sure you know what I'm talking about," Ghost pointed out. "You know that something's wrong with her."
"I know that she's tired. That's what she told me," Lock asserted.
"And the fact that she's about three shades paler and doesn't say more than give words at a time didn't strike you as odd?" Sparks quipped, earning a murderous glare from Lock.
"Are you insinuating that I'm too blind to tell if something were bothering her?" Lock snapped back, slamming his fist onto his desk as he rose to his feet. "I'm not a fool. You're overreacting."
"Then you have noticed that she's acting strange," said Ghost.
"I noticed that she's tired, stressed, and not herself, most probably because Thadeus is dead. Beyond that, I fail to see why this is of utmost concern."
"It's not because Thadeus is dead that she's acting this way. It's being caused by something that invaded her code when she was in the Matrix! Doesn't that bother you in the least?" Sparks shot back.
"I'm sorry, something 'invaded' her code? I see. Can you be a bit more specific?" Lock demanded, leaving Sparks without an answer.
"Well..."
"Do you have any proof that her 'code' has been altered, short of your own testimony? Considering that this is unheard of, I trust that you were intelligent enough to make a record of it? A screenshot? A reproduction?" Lock continued furiously.
"Isn't my word enough?" Sparks asked incredulously.
"No, it's not, crewman. In case you forgot, that's why you're an operator on a ship in the bowels of the planet and not a lieutenant in Control, because no one can rely on your to obey orders and to follow procedure! People who don't know how to shut you up die around you! If I had my way, you wouldn't be operating on any ship, let alone Niobe's!"
The Commander's words clearly hit a nerve for Sparks, and from Ghost's point of view it looked like they were seeping into his soul like fast-working venom. His normally boyish expression visibly melted away and left nothing but pure fury. Lock had clearly gone into forbidden territory.
Sparks nearly charged at Lock, and probably would have decked him (and then have been escorted to the stockades) had Ghost not grabbed his arms and restrained him, preventing him from moving forward even though Sparks was the larger man.
"Sparks, wait outside," Ghost ordered sternly. They were getting nowhere, and Sparks was only making things worse.
The operator relaxed in Ghost's grip and crossed his arms awkwardly once he was released, exiting the room as he muttered various obscenities to himself. Once the door clanked shut, Ghost tried one last time to get through to the Commander. If he could salvage the conversation, he still had a chance.
"Commander, may I speak freely?" he asked frankly, still holding Lock's impenetrable gaze with his own.
"You may," Lock answered curtly, sitting back down, but not dropping his guard.
"Do you trust my judgment?"
"More than I trust your operator's."
Ghost leaned closer to Lock, speaking quietly.
"Then believe me when I say that Sparks isn't making this up. He saw a virus infect her code, and it's changing her. If there's nothing you can do as our superior, then please. Get around it. You're one of the only people she's close to. You love her. That must count for something. There must be something you can do."
For a few seconds, Ghost thought that he had gotten through to Lock. The Commander seemed to resign himself to Ghost's words and accept them as he leaned back in his chair, thinking. After another minute of silence, he spoke again.
"I see where this is going. Your coward of an operator convinced you that Niobe's too harsh of a captain and you want her removed from duty!"
...Or not.
"Well your operator's plan was a piece of crap!" Lock spat, "And I can't believe that you've gone along with it!"
"Commander-"
"I've heard enough. Rest assured that I have both Zion and Niobe's best interests in mind, although the latter are no business of yours. But try and pull shit like this one more time and I'll demote both of you to janitors in the reclamation level!"
That's it. I give up.
"Request to be dismissed, sir," Ghost asked curtly, abandoning his apparently futile attempt to get through to Lock.
"Dismissed," Lock answered with an equally stiff tone. Ghost left the room without another word and hardly a sound, leaving Lock alone to contemplate what had just transpired. While Ghost had not managed to convince him that Niobe was currently in any danger whatsoever, he had inadvertently implanted the seeds of fear that something might happen to her in the future, especially if she returned to the field. Forget worries of imaginary viruses; the real danger was the fleet of Sentinels!
Lock prided himself on being rational, the one that followed procedure and had the rank to prove it. Next to the head of the Council, he was the most powerful person in Zion. Unfortunately, when Niobe's safety was involved, he was overprotective and highly irrational and didn't even know it.
Before Ghost and his idiot of an operator had intruded on him, he had been hastily completing the outline for a counterattack so that he could present it to the Council for approval when the first opportunity presented itself. On a sheet of recycled paper, notes were scrawled along the margins of a schematic of the pipelines directly surrounding Zion. Names of ships were scattered through some highlighted passages in his clear, crisp handwriting. Lock's eyes were drawn to the label 'Logos,' which he had placed somewhat in the back of the lines.
After a moment's hesitation, he crossed out the name from all parts of the paper, and added a footnote at the bottom:
Logos N/A
He couldn't lose her. Even though some part of him was reminded that she would probably only perish if the line failed, which meant they would all die anyways, his need to ensure her safety overrode everything else.
Several paces away from Lock's door, Ghost found Sparks leaning against the metallic wall and kicking at the air with one leg impatiently. He didn't even notice Ghost approach him until they were face to face, at which point he stopped kicking and sighed heavily, averting his gaze to the ground so that he didn't have to look Ghost in the eye.
"So did he listen to you?" Sparks muttered.
"About as much as a brick wall would."
The operator laughed quietly, shaking his head. "I hate him. He's an asshole. He thinks that my opinion's worth crap based on shit that shouldn't matter anymore," he said angrily, his voice practically growling.
"It still matters to you. You wouldn't be so worked up about it if it didn't," Ghost pointed out knowingly.
"Ghost, with all due respect man, fuck off and stop trying to analyze me," Sparks shot back, not bothering to hide the anger sparking in his blue eyes.
"Fine," Ghost answered simply, tired of people snapping at him for no reason. He walked off towards the nearest elevator without even looking back at his friend.
"Well...where are you going?" Sparks asked, confused.
"To think!" Ghost called back over his shoulder before disappearing behind a corner, leaving Sparks to deal with his rage and embarrassment on his own.
Her sister Sally had been the one to introduce Vivian to racing when she was fifteen. She had dragged her to a race so that she could watch her current boyfriend, Joseph, participate. Initially, Vivian had refused to go, convinced that she would be either bored out of her mind or completely isolated while her sister ran off and chatted up the entire crowd. While she had developed a close friendship with Joseph ever since Sally had started dating him, he would be racing, leaving her with no one to talk to.
Eventually though, Vivian had caved in. She had never been able to outmatch her sister in the fine art of persuasion, especially when she owed Sally for having covered for her when she had totaled the family car's bumper on the highway by paying for it out of her own pocket. So she went, more out of duty than desire. On the bright side, she never regretted it.
Sure, she detested the obligatory token female role her sister wanted her to play (sitting on the hoods of cars and talking to the macho drivers and their buddies before retreating to the sidelines to cheer for their knight in shining armor). But when Vivian watched in awe as the cars sped off at top speeds, sending dust everywhere and tires screaming, drowning out the rest of the world, she knew she was head over heels in love, and wanted nothing more than to be in one of those cars, flying.
She never even noticed who won that round.
After the race, when the cash prizes had been distributed to the winners and everyone was celebrating with some form of liquor, she pulled Joseph away with Sally in tow.
"I want to race," she declared to them. "Help me get in."
Sally laughed at the suggestion and took another swig of her beer, clearly not taking her sister seriously. "You can't be serious."
"I am."
Her sister opened her mouth to say something, but was stopped short by her boyfriend. "How're you going to pay for a car? You can't just race any old thing. It hasta be souped up."
"I'll sell all my stuff. I'll get a job. Whatever it takes! Just help me get started!"
It might have been her tone, or the fact that he knew she had a lot of skill behind the wheel. It might have been that he could tell that she was dead serious, or maybe it was the unquenchable gleam in her eye that wouldn't be satisfied until she was speeding along at 120 kilometers an hour and having everyone else eat her dust. Whatever it was, it worked.
"Okay. You can start out in my car, but you'll need your own soon enough," Joseph offered, smiling at her instant glee. She grinned like a kid in a candy store.
"Really? Joseph, you rock!"
"Yea, yea, yea...I have a feeling I won't regret this. That's the only reason I'm gonna help you. Now the first thing you gotta do is to come up with a name."
"A name? Why?"
"Because. All the drivers race under those names. Safer that way 'cause we won't know who anybody is if the cops come callin' for catchin' us drag racing."
"Oh..."
The next day, Vivian got a job at the warehouse stacking boxes, and started to save every last penny she could. The name, on the other hand, took a little bit more time and thought...
"When are we going to find you a girlfriend?" Trinity asked Ghost playfully, giving him the once-over. The two were sitting on his bed side by side, having just awoken from his personal training program. Ghost smiled and stared straight ahead assuredly, trying to look completely serious.
"Like Augustine, I'm devoted to a higher purpose," he informed her as-a-matter-of-factly.
"What's that?" Trinity wondered, although she already knew the answer. The conversation was not a new one, just one they liked to have.
"Onanism."
The answer made Trinity chuckle, shaking her head slightly. "Is that why so many saints are blind?"
Ghost finally cocked his head to once side and grinned. "Celibacy is a hands-on job,"
"Mm-hm..." Trinity mused, her expression becoming serious again. "Thank you Ghost," she said, referring back to his offer to let her get some things off her chest. He nodded in return and she rose to leave, ready to track down Neo.
"Trin..."
She stopped in her tracks and looked at Ghost, the serene smile still playing against her face. It disappeared when she saw that Ghost had lost his carefree expression, and it had been replaced with that of melancholy. "What?" she asked, returning to sit at the edge of his bed.
"I need some advice. It's Niobe," he told her.
"Niobe?" Trinity repeated, "What about her?"
"That's the problem. I'm not entirely sure."
In a few brief sentences, Ghost summarized the events that had occurred after the botched meeting in the Matrix that they had both attended. She listened patiently and waited for him to finish, keeping her thoughts to herself until Ghost looked at her expectantly in hopes of some advice.
"Did you talk to her about this?" Trinity asked, naturally choosing the most obvious plan of action. Ghost nodded and sighed.
"She keeps brushing it off. You know how she is."
"How about Lock?"
Ghost nearly laughed at how similar her train of thought was to his own. "Yes, both me and Sparks did. He thinks we're trying to keep the Logos docked because we're too scared to go back to the front."
He stopped there, trying to choose his words carefully before he said anything else.
"She needs someone to talk some sense into her, or shake it into her, to make her get some help. Sparks and we can't do it ourselves. And with Thadeus dead, there's really only one other person who knows her well enough that we haven't tried."
"Morpheus."
Trinity cupped Ghost's cheek and drew him into a sisterly hug. Despite his very reserved nature, he leaned into her without hesitation.
"I'll speak to him as soon as I see him, which will probably be just before the temple gathering tonight. If he does manage to get through to her, I'm sure Neo will check her code. He is the best person to ask for interpreting the Matrix, after all," she offered gently, eventually withdrawing from the embrace. Ghost mumbled a small thank you, secretly sad that the hug had been so brief and yet too scared to hold on any longer. He shoved the thoughts of what could have been aside as quickly as they surfaced, refusing to accept anything but what already existed, there here and now.
"Thanks sis," he said again to her, this time more audibly.
"Anytime, dear brother."
The intoxicating sound of eternally beating drums reverberated through every inch of the temple, engulfing Niobe's senses. When was the last time she had been here at a time of celebration, when nearly all of the adult population of Zion turned out to dance and shout? As her eyes skimmed the crowd of people that she was in the middle of and she spotted Morpheus, she knew her answer.
Morpheus had always loved to dance. It never ceased to amaze people that didn't know him that a man who normally held himself in such a calm and stoic manner would be such an energetic and lively soul when given the appropriate conditions. Niobe smiled at the images conjured up in her memories of him dancing. She had spent more than one night dancing away with him, among other things.
"He acts like he's in charge," Lock sneered disapprovingly as he stood behind Niobe, his warm hand causing the paled skin of her bare shoulders to tingle from the much-wanted heat, despite the fact that they were standing in an area packed with people and pools of magma.
"But he sure does know how to get a crowd going. He could've told them that we're all going to die in thirty seconds and they'd still be partying," Niobe replied, watching as the crowd below her broke into dance in a series of waves.
"We aren't going to die though. Not if the counterattack is successful."
She turned around in a flash, causing some of the braided strands of her hair to fling into her face. "You've got a plan?"
Lock nodded hesitantly. "Yes. Every ship will use their EMPs to disable the sentinels."
It sounded like the kind of defense strategy that Lock was best known for: brute force in a single deathly pass that surprised the enemy. But something in his tone of voice tipped Niobe off, telling her that he wasn't divulging everything about his plan.
"And...?" she asked.
"That's all," Lock lied. Niobe frowned.
"Jason, what else?" she pressed, not prepared to take that as an answer. Lock realized that he was caught.
"...The plan involves every ship...except the Logos. Its EMP just isn't powerful enough to make an impact."
Niobe stared incredulously at Lock, caught completely off guard. The celebration around her was suddenly forgotten. "Jason, that's bullshit and you know it!"
"It's for the best," he defended, reaching out to caress Niobe's cheek. "You know I would never do anything to hurt you-"
She jerked her face away from Lock's tender touch as if he were an Agent, eyes ablaze with hurt and betrayal. Lock's intentions had no doubt been his idea of innocent chivalry. Depending on the point of view, he was either protecting her from impending danger in the only way he could. On the other hand, he was abusing his powers so that he wouldn't need to worry about her safety.
Niobe chose to assume the latter position. He didn't care about what she wanted, did he? The fact that he hadn't even asked her what she wanted was what angered her the most.
"I can't believe this. You're putting yourself in front of this entire city!" she fumed.
"No! I'm putting you first! You're important to me! I love you!" he fought back.
"That doesn't make it right! Change the order! If everyone else has to go on a suicide mission, then I sure as hell want to be with them, not sitting in Zion twiddling my thumbs!"
"I can't change the order. The Council's adjourned until the strike briefing…"
Niobe didn't even let him finish. She growled under her breath and stalked away, letting him know what her reply was.
Enraged, Niobe retreated to a somewhat more secluded corner away from the warm lights and watched the crowds party on, oblivious to what had just transpired between her and Lock. She spotted Morpheus talking to Captain Soren a few paces away, and regarded him from the corner of her eye.
He was wearing a sleeveless red robe, the colour matching that of her own red dress to indicate their ranks, loose-fitting pants, and no shirt. She surmised that this had probably been a conscious move on his part, since exposing his bare chest, implants and all, added to the credibility of his claim that he was not afraid of the machines. All in all, he looked regal, to say the least.
The colour red suits him, she mused, admiring the way in which the robe seemed to flow off his skin like a stream of constant rainwater-
No. It reminded her more of blood. Crimson-red blood, so sweet and potent that she could practically smell it in his veins amidst the scents of the earth beneath her, of the lava, and of sweat...the very thought of sampling some of that coppery liquid was enough to make her mouth water, bringing her back to the scene in her room a few hours prior, where she had been unable to stop herself from tasting her own blood...
Stop! She ordered herself furiously, still confused as to where the morbid thoughts were coming from. First the cut in her room, and now this...lusting? I must be really tired. I should probably just leave now and get some rest. Forget seeing Jason. I'm too pissed off to talk to him right now, Niobe decided.
She had practically resolved to call it a night and retreat to the safety of her quarters when Morpheus decided to walk up to her, having probably noticed that she was staring at him.
"Is there something you wanted to say to me, Captain?" Morpheus asked, his Cheshire Cat smile pointing out that he was merely trying to irk her. Niobe quickly retook control of her situation and thoughts and returned Morpheus' smile with a playful grin of her own.
"No, not really," she answered coolly, taking a step towards the Captain of the Neb. "I was just remembering how you used to dance. You were pretty good."
"Really? Would you care to refresh your memory?" he offered gently, presenting her with his open hand.
The chance to dance again was a powerful one. Jason hated dancing and glared at anyone who did ask her to join them, leaving Niobe often enough without a partner and little reason to indulge herself. Without even wanting to, she noticed that Lock was indeed still around, hovering in the background behind some people, watching. He looked like he was ready to tear Morpheus limb from limb for merely talking to her. Her anger about Lock's actions came rushing back to her, making her decision final.
What the hell. I want to dance, and if he gets all worked up about it, then good. He should!
She took Morpheus' hand eagerly, allowing him to lead her downwards towards the crowds of people where they would be smack in the middle of things. Once they found an appropriate spot, Morpheus just let the beat dictate his dance movements, and Niobe followed.
It was almost surreal at first, like she had warped back to a time when they had been together. They followed the steps of a familiar dance as one, stomping their feet into the earth underneath them as Morpheus slowly lifted his arms towards the hidden sky, closing his eyes and smiling. And all around, the drums continued to beat and everyone continued to dance, as if they were all invoking long-dead gods in a wild frenzy to come to their aid.
Niobe found herself wrapping an arm leisurely around Morpheus' neck, pressing their swaying bodies together enticingly with the beat, and gazed at his elegant neck, where the skin was so smooth and dark. She had once kissed that skin with burning lips, had nipped it, marked it. Now, all of a sudden she wanted to do it again, not for love or lust, but to taste the crimson liquid flowing just beneath the surface. All thoughts of Lock were forgotten in the moment.
Somehow, they had danced their way into a darker corner and away from prying eyes, but Morpheus hadn't seemed to notice and Niobe didn't really care. She wasn't really focusing on the people around her, only on him, or more specifically, his neck, and the inviting warmth of his body. The steady beat of percussion instruments and people at various stages of making love were simply providing a highly coercive backdrop.
Now Morpheus took the liberty of snaking his own arms around her waist, closing whatever was left of the gap between them. Niobe could feel his brown eyes searing into hers, and she closed her own so she wouldn't have to deal with them. If she did, then she would start to think about why she was no longer with Morpheus, and why he still managed to make her senses burn when Lock was supposed to be the only one who could do that. Some part of her mind protested against her infidelity, but it was quickly overwritten by everything else. Had they been in the Matrix and someone had been reading her code, they would've seen not only how her body was starting to demand more of her, but how something was rising towards her brain and changing all the code in its wake, something that wasn't part of normal human responses.
"Niobe..." Morpheus whispered, his face dangerously close to hers. She wondered if he was trying to snap her out of it or if he too was longing for something they had shared but lost years ago. Her face had now finally met up with his shoulder, and her cheek grazed against it, awakening something inside her that she had never known existed.
I just need a taste, that's all...
She opened her mouth and pressed it to his neck without even thinking, and then sank her canines into it, breaking the skin.
"Niobe!"
A sharp pain in her back brought her back to her senses. She stared at Morpheus, realizing that he had forcibly pinned her against the wall of the temple by her shoulders. The glint in his eyes had been replaced by complete seriousness as he stood at arm's length. At first, she didn't understand where his change of heart had come from, but then her saw the telltale red of blood on his neck, dripping from the beginnings of a bitemark. He had pushed her away just in time. Shocked, she brought her own fingers to her lips, probing her gums.
Her upper canines were twice as long as before, and as sharp as razorblades. Horrified, she found herself completely immobilized. Had she just bitten Morpheus?
"Now will you get stop denying what's happened to you and get help?" he asked her seriously, as the crowds around them continued to dance the night away, completely oblivious. The words stung her hard; he had been playing her like a harp in order to confront her!
Unfortunately, she couldn't deny it any further as the events from the Chateau and afterwards came flooding back. The bite from the man in the Chateau, her light sensitivity, the blood fixation, the depressing thoughts about Thadeus, her anger towards Lock, all came together in a way that made some kind of twisted sense and were sealed by the nearly vampiric kiss she had bestowed on Morpheus.
Reluctantly, she nodded, deciding that this was not who she wanted to be, and grew determined to be rid of it at all costs.
Random Author Note: Lock's actions in ETM footage (Keeping the Logos from being put in the retaliation fleet which could save Zion) reminded me of Neo's in Reloaded (Choosing to save Trinity instead of...well, saving Zion the traditional way) gave me a new perspective on his character. One is shown to us as wrong, the other as right. So was Lock right, or was Neo wrong?
Last edited: November 2, 2003.