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Chapter 13

The following years moved quickly, forced along by numerous events; tragedies, losses, gains, divisions, separations. The world changed, more gradually than it seemed perhaps, but irrevocably none the less. The people of Zion had tried to resist the inevitable, tried to maintain pleasant if not altogether agreeable relations with one another. But too much had happened and things could never go back to the way they were before the schism.

The so-called Second Revolution evolved relatively quickly following the release of the official report on the fate of the Salome. Despite having little tangible evidence to back their position, the Council claimed that Lock's investigation pointed to sabotage. The ship, they claimed had been targeted by anti-resistance rebels who were trying to diminish rescue operations. Councilor Hamann was the first to label these amorphous individuals as suspected terrorists, thus solidifying them as a threat and uniting them with a cause.

They called themselves the New Resistance. It wasn't until certain individuals began to be questioned, some even thrown into lock up, by the military forces for their suspected involvement with the Salome tragedy that the group truly formed. Rallies were held in secret. Literature, some propaganda, some honest ramblings, was distributed among the citizens of Zion. Anti-retrieval operations, as they were commonly called, began, the first being an attempt at shutting down a portion of Zion's mainframe. For two weeks all communication was lost with the five ships out at that time, preventing any orders regarding rescue operations to be either sent or received. Protests and sit-ins were held by the dock in an attempt to keep certain ships from leaving. When word came that another version of the Salome was to be built, rebels worked to prevent delivery of materials and interfered in various aspects of the research and construction processes. In addition, ships were periodically tampered with despite being under lockdown whenever docked, proving that there were rebel sympathizers, perhaps even members, within the military itself.

The other side developed more gradually. New Resistance fighters were forced to claim their identities the moment the Council came out against them and the military began looking for them. Sympathizers had no choice but to join outright the insurgency in order to keep its mission alive. The Liberators, as they chose to call themselves, grew out of the need for opposition. Though the Council and the military, which rested comfortably under the thumb of the elders, both spoke out against the rebel factions and worked to increase anti-resistance sentiment among the public, it was the people who were responsible for creating the opposing faction.

As has often been the case in human history, a battle initially begun by the people trying to take a stand against an ideal, devolved into the people simply fighting one another. While those involved with the New Resistance continued to vandalize and incapacitate ships and support programs, the Liberators performed terrorist acts of their own. The first was to demolish one of the areas thought to be a common meeting ground for the rebel rallies. It just so happened that this place was also someone's home, a noted leader of the movement who had small children, both of who were killed when the small homemade bomb went off.

After that tragedy the two factions put more effort towards destroying each other it seemed than achieving their initial goals. Zion had become an unpredictable and distrusting place. One's neighbors were no longer one's friends, but potential radicals, subversives, even murderers. Most citizens did not belong to either group, but were never the less forced into choosing sides. Despite having much support for their beliefs, the New Resistance was forced underground, metaphorically speaking of course. It was those who believed in the mission of the Liberators who possessed all the power. They had the backing of the Council and the strong arm of the military. All those who had faith in the Temple were encouraged to join the Liberation movement as well, leaving few who felt comfortable in unveiling their true rebel allegiance. Many in Zion led double lives, constantly looking over their shoulders as they moved through life.

Few truly violent actions occurred. Occasionally something would go wrong with a ship and whether they had actually been responsible or not, the Second Resistance would be blamed. Liberators often sought out rallies and when found would attempt to disband them with violence if necessary. But no real skirmishes had taken place, no battle lines drawn. A sense of peace pervaded the catacomb walls, one that was only outdone by the sense of foreboding that followed every citizen whether aligned with one side or stuck firmly in the middle. It was known by all, though few would admit it, that despite the current relative peace, Zion was heading towards a civil war.

The Council had attempted several times over the last decade to bring a truce. Negotiations had been opened, but neither side was ever willing to budge enough to achieve an agreement. The military would put on hold its plans for additional rescue vessels like the Salome, but they would not decrease the quotas already in place on other ships. The rebels would agree to steer clear of the dock and all ships within it, but would never cease their inciting rallies or distribution of various "verites." Between fruitless negotiations and increases in aggressive activities, the people of Zion became even more concerned.

For those on the various ships of course, life was very different. They returned home periodically, as all crews must, to refuel and gather additional supplies, but overall their time spent in Zion was limited. Those aboard the Nebuchadnezzar returned even more infrequently than others, their orders often being extreme, exceeding the expectations placed on other crews. All vessels had a mandatory two-month stay for various systems checks, repairs, and possible updates, resulting in a yearly vacation, but most other visits lasted no more than a week.

Thusly, the crew of the Neb, though being perfectly aware of what was happening at home, managed to live largely in a state of ignorance regarding the day-to-day life in Zion. For them the dangers they faced aboard the ship were far more pressing than the subversion occurring at home. Agent activity had reached a level akin to that just before the peace was achieved. Many men and women lost their lives while working inside the Matrix, a fact often either glossed over or taken advantage of by the rival factions in Zion. The machines, while not attacking outright and making no move towards Zion, had begun to send sentinels out on search and destroy missions. It seemed to many inside the sewers at this point that they were right back to where they started. The only consolation was that, so far, Zion had not been threatened by anyone other than its own citizens.

For Nysa returning home was always an unnerving experience. After ten years on the Nebuchadnezzar she knew more about being an operator than being a normal teenager, and all the other young men and women recognized this. She did not know how to relate to people her age, with the exception of Olivia, and largely steered clear of them to avoid the odd looks and ridicule they often bestowed upon her. Most of her time in Zion was spent either helping with checks and repairs of the ships, or catching up with Livi.

It wasn't until she was 15 that her interests began to change. When other girls her age languished over boys or their marks in school, she began to focus on the future of Zion. Perhaps this was because she considered herself to be part of the Neb's crew and therefore had no choice but to take an interest in the ideals they were fighting for. Maybe it had something to do with the increased political banter on board whenever word of another incident reached them. It could have been the result of some basic inborn interest, or simply a feeling of boredom or insignificance, or the idea, drilled into her for years, that she had a responsibility for her people simply because of who her father was. Whatever the reason, Nysa, much to her parents dismay, had begun to collect research and propaganda regarding the so-called Second Revolution.

"Aren't you supposed to be keeping an eye on the monitors," Neo asked her as she sat reading an article about the most recent occurrence of suspected sabotage.

Without so much as looking up at either him or the other screens in front of her she replied, "I am. It's called multitasking."

He took a seat beside her. In reality there wasn't much going on that she needed to be watching. It was late and most everyone was asleep, including Link who had been working around the clock for the last few days trying to pinpoint the locations of two obtrusive hackers. She offered to relieve him while things were slow and relatively calm, knowing that it would allow her time to be alone and catch up on some reading.

"That doesn't look like your assigned reading," he commented, perusing the article on the tiny computer screen in her lap. Since Nysa remained on board the Nebuchadnezzar throughout the school year it was up to Neo and Trinity to educated their daughter. Now that she was a bit older, this task became much simpler; she was perfectly able to read assigned materials on her own without the supervision that was necessary for a small and fidgety child. Normally a selection from the Council's initial writings on the founding and governance of Zion, or perhaps a story or essay from the archives, was assigned to her and several hours, or at times days, later she would be asked to discuss it so as to show she understood. Because she had a sort of unquenchable thirst for knowledge it was never difficult to make her complete her assignments, with the exception of math, a subject that, despite understanding on a theoretical level, she constantly made calculation errors in. It frustrated her to no end and one of the most troubling aspects of Nysa's character was that when she became distressed, she tended to shut down, quitting whatever project she had been working on at the time; her stubbornness and tenacity only going so far.

"I'm done with that. I've moved on."

"Moved on?"

"From the distant past involving the founding of Zion, to the present, wherein it approaches near certain destruction," she replied, her concentration unwavering.

"I wish you wouldn't read that crap, Nys."

She finally looked up at him, though only for a moment before saying, "I like to be informed."

"Yeah, well, being informed is great, but I think it's time you were in bed," he said, shutting off her laptop and removing it from her grip as her mouth hung agape.

"I was reading that."

"Go on. I'll take over 'til Link gets back."

She rose but made no move to leave. "I'm not a child you know."

Neo tried to keep from smirking. This was a phrase she had adopted when she turned 10-years-old and had used ad nauseum ever since. When something seemed unfair, she was not a child. When she was kept from performing a certain task, or perhaps made to do another, she was not a child. Most of all when she was told to something by her parents that she did not want to do, like say go to bed, she was not a child.

"I know," he managed to say. While he of course recognized that she was growing up, he still saw her as a little girl. But he knew full well that placating her in this manner was the only thing that would yield any results. He had made the mistake of telling her once that she was in fact still a child, since she was only 13 at the time, and the shouting match that followed left both of them hoarse and bitter for days.

She remained standing in front of him, arms crossed, feet plastered to the floor, the oh-so-recognizable defiant Nysa. He said nothing, despite knowing that she expected him to go on, to continue to tell her what to do so that she had a request to rail against. One thing however that Nysa had not inherited from her father was his patience, so as he sat watching his daughter begin to fidget in her obstinate pose, he knew already that he had won. It took no more than two minutes of silent staring before she finally turned and headed toward her quarters in a huff, leaving Neo to bask in his small parental victory.

He leaned back in his seat and watched the monitors lazily. Not much was happening, nor did he expect anything to. The last couple of weeks had been relatively slow, with few potentials to pull out of the Matrix. He began to relax, realizing that his little stint earlier that day would be the last time he saw the inside of the Matrix for two months. It was time for the Neb's annual checkup and his much-anticipated vacation. Tomorrow they would arrive back home in Zion