It was dark, so dark. And cold, so very cold. The city below was almost invisible in the shadows, masked by the silence of the night. Bree was looking at it all as though she were a bird. The machine city. She felt herself shiver as she realized where she was, but she was not afraid. She was hovering directly above the fields, where the machines harvested their never-ending supply of energy: us. Without the humans they kept sleeping and dreaming, they would die.

Feeling a sudden urge to get closer, Bree moved herself forward, her body floating in mid-air like a spirit. She maneuvered around the rows of bodies, weaving through the tall columns. All at once she stopped, and hovered in front of one of the thousands of body containments. Suddenly, all of her courage and curiosity was gone. Now, all she wanted to do was to leave as quickly as she could, but something held her in place. Slowly, she felt herself inch forward until she was staring at the person lying within the early grave.

A silent scream touched her lips, and her grey eyes widened with horror. Her own faced stared up at her, quietly slumbering. Bree backed up in fear and confusion, her body a single flow of adrenaline. Something moved to her left and she looked up to see a machine towering above her and a sickening thought came to her mind. It was feeding time. A mechanical arm came forward, reaching for the casket that Brees body was lying in. Her floating self was going to have to watch herself be liquefied and fed as fuel to the murderous machines.

Just before the arm was able to do its duty, there was a bright flash of light that almost blinded Bree. She closed her eyes just before the arm retracted, as though in pain. When Bree reopened her eyes, everything was suddenly lit up, as though it were all on fire.

Bree awoke sweating from her dreams, her chest heaving up and down as she laid still not moving a muscle, but instead just staring up at the ceiling. She stayed this way until the unpleasantly familiar feeling of nausea gripped her and she bolted out of her bed to the bucket she had placed in her room, losing what was left of her dinner from the previous night. With a weary sigh she wiped the back of her hand across her mouth and slightly staggered out of the door. There was no one out in the corridor, but they were probably all in the dining room eating breakfast. After vomiting into her bucket, Bree didn't feel much like consuming anything, so she headed for the jack room to get ready. It was a preaching day.

The main objective of any ship, whether on its maiden voyage or not, is for the crew to go into the Matrix and attempt to convince the people still dreaming that their world is not real, and that it's all an illusion. Sometimes it worked, sometimes it didn't, but the times that it did were enough to keep them at it. When the agents were still around it was a dangerous task but in the last eight years the percentage of people they freed had doubled. That is until the recent discovery that the machines had reinstated Agent Smith and his crew and Matrix programs. Now, they all had to be extremely careful.

They had been in there for hours, Bree thought as she lazily spun around in the operating chair, trying to keep her eyes studiously on the screen. Lock had called only once to ask for directions and after that everything had gotten ominously silent. Only Bree, Gaia, Skip, and Tron had remained behind while the others went into the Matrix. Skip was making lunch, Gaia was busy in the lower deck mixing a salve for Zane when he returned because he had burned his hand, and Tron was up front piloting the ship. However, even with these other people around, Bree still felt alone. She had since the ship's launching. This was not her crew, not her ship, and definitely not her family. She wanted to go home.

It was now two weeks into the Nostradamus' maiden voyage. Since it was a brand-new ship, they had to put it through its paces by taking it down all the known routes through the tunnels of the real world. So far, there had been no problems, but everyone knew that nothing was predictable even in this time of peace, and they all stayed alert. Anything could happen at any time, and it was this thought, and memories of past events, that kept them all sharp and vigilant.

Bree was beginning to grow drowsy with boredom. The members of the crew in the Matrix were still walking around New York somewhere, and the few the remained behind were in other parts of the ship. Slowly, she felt herself slip into sub-consciousness, the room around her becoming a blur before disappearing altogether. Instead of a monitor sitting before her she saw a pair of dark brown eyes, dark hair. She smiled at the wonderful familiarity of the face and the memories it brought back to her. She could sit there and bask in the daydream for hours.

The clear ringing of a phone brought her back to reality, the room quickly dissolving back into view, Neos face retreating back into her mind. Bree reached for a button on the keyboard that would connect her with whoever was calling her. She put the headset on and spoke clearly into it.

"Operator."

"Bree!"

"Captain Lock?" Her heart jumped up to her throat at the urgency in his tone.

"Bree you have to help us! He's got us! Bree, please you must-" Then there was just static. The connection was lost.

For a moment Bree just sat there, her grey eyes wide, and her mouth hanging open like a fish. The headset slowly slid off her head and onto the floor. A loud clang rang in her ears as it struck the metal. That snapped her out of it. Her mind became a sudden whir of activity as a dozen questions began asking themselves in her brain, vying for the position of first priority. What could have happened to them? Who was "he"? She went with the former first, since the answer to the second was obvious. She reached hurriedly for the button that activated the ship's new intercom system.

"Gaia, Skip, Tron, please report to the jack room immediately. We have an emergency situation." She was shocked momentarily by the hysteria in her voice.

With that done, Bree leaned back in her chair, staring at the screen with the green codes dripping down like rain in a storm. There was one inconsistency as far as she could see. She believed that the phone call had been legit, but on the screen Lock and the others all appeared fine. The codes were telling her nothing was wrong. Then, suddenly and with the force of a bullet, the answer came to her.

"A cover-up program," she whispered aloud.

"What?"

Bree jumped a little and turned around to see Tron standing behind her now. She could see Gaia just entering the room, with Skip not too far behind her. His size often slowed his speed where ever he went.

"I think Smith has the others held captive," Bree told them, for the first time looking solemnly over at the four figures lying in the chairs in front of them. They all looked like they were sleeping, but Bree knew otherwise, and the thought made her stomach roll threateningly.

"What?" Gaia exclaimed, mimicking Trons previous inquiry.

"Yeah, Lock just called for help but he got cut off. But on the screen they look fine. I think the machines are using a cover-up program. It's a simple enough concept. You just make a program of whatever you want your target to see, then hack into their system and play it on a loop. It's like a diversion so they can do what they need to do without anybody seeing."

"But isn't that a violation of the treaty?" asked Skip, who was stroking his beard thoughtfully. Bree shook her head.

"No, the treaty only said that the machines would no longer attack the freed humans. Anyone jacked into the Matrix, however, is free meat."

"But why would they want to capture Lock and the others?" Tron asked her. Bree could tell he was trying not to panic.

"Because they don't want us to unplug anymore people," she told him, "They don't want their energy source tampered with anymore."

"So what do they want with our crew?" Skip said his voice calm. He was not one who panicked easily.

"I don't know…unless." Bree suddenly gasped with horror as another bullet struck her mind. In a flash she was up and running over to the radio used to communicate between ships. The others who were following behind her asking "what was going on?" and "who was she calling?" She ignored them.

"This Lieutenant Bree of the Nostradamus contacting The Neo. Please, if anyone's there pick up." There a long pause during which Brees dread steadily grew. Then…

"Bree, is that really you?"

"Link?" she answered shrilly into the radio, "Oh, it's so good to hear your voice. Yes, it's really me. Listen, don't ask any questions, but I need you to tell me who of the crew over there is jacked into the Matrix." In her mind she already knew the list.

"Um, Magnet, Cyprus, Ace, and Circuit. Why are you asking?" Brees stomach dropped to her toes as she heard the names. She felt suffocated with terror as she thought of her beloved Ace, and the innocent Circuit trapped in the Matrix, for she knew they were.

"Link, Smith has them captured," she said, trying to talk through the lump in her throat, "He has several of our crew as well."

"What…how can…but what does he want with them?" he sputtered. Bree had to swallow the lump and force back to tears fighting for freedom before she could answer him.

"He's trying to irreparably fry our system so we can't jack into the Matrix. To do that he needs Circuit. I think he took our crew members as bargaining tools or something. Or maybe he just enjoys torturing people." She could hear the sudden gasps and more inquiries from the other people behind her as she explained all this to Link.

"But on the screen, my crew is f-" Link began, but Bree interrupted him.

"He's using a cover-up program." Brees mind was locked in a weighted battle, but she knew which decision would win. "Listen Link, I need you to contact Zion and tell Morpheus what's happening. Tell him we might need some help. In the meantime lift the cover-up program so you can watch what's going on." The battle was over.

"What are you going to do?" Link asked cautiously, knowing her too well to think she was just going to sit around. He was right.

"I'm going into the Matrix." She disconnected before Link could reply and then turned around, looking at the three people before her. Bree could tell they were in shock, stunned in fact by what was happening. None of them really knew how crazy things were apt to get. Only Skip had been unplugged while the war was still raging. Gaia and Tron could never be prepared for something like this.

"Look, I don't want anyone protesting," she told them firmly, "I'm the only one who has a chance at saving the others." The look on their faces showed a mixture of concern, fright, and uncertainty. Skip folded his arms across his wide chest.

"I'm not letting you go in alone," he said in his deep voice. Bree opened her mouth to protest but wasn't able to say anything.

"Then I'll go with her," piped up Tron, who, Bree thought, looked not unlike someone else she remembered in times of trouble. He was scared, but he did his best to keep a brave composure and do what he had to do. But she was not going to let him come with her because he looked courageous.

"No," she said flatly, "I'm not risking your life in something this dangerous."

"Well you had better," Skip informed her, "Because unless you let him go, then you're getting nowhere near those chairs." Bree stared at him, noting his wide abdomen. Then she glanced at the screen where the green codes continued to descend down the screen. She let out a heavy sigh.

"Fine," she agreed in defeat, "But you make even one wrong move I am calling for an exit for you, got it?" Tron nodded his understanding. Still not thinking this was a very good idea, but realizing she had no choice, Bree walked over to one of the chairs and lifted herself up into one. Tron followed her and did the same. She closed her eyes, and felt herself dissolve from the room.

The sidewalk felt familiar beneath Brees feet as she stood beside a red and white "No Parking after 7 P.M." sign, and a glance across the street at an electronic shop's window filled with televisions sets made her stomach roll violently. However, she managed not to vomit by remembering she had a job to do. She looked over at Tron, and the look of wonder on his face caused another nauseating memory to surface in her mind and she looked away quickly. She reached down to the phone at her hip and pushed a couple of numbers. Then she listened to the sharp ringing, waiting for someone to pick up.

"Operator," Gaia answered on the other line.

"Where are they?" Bree asked her. There was a pause while she waited for Gaia to check.

"In a warehouse, about 4 miles outside the city going west." Bree hung up without another word. She looked to Tron, trying to ignore the fact that he looked like Circuit, and nodded her head in the direction they were heading.

Meanwhile, in a warehouse about 4 miles outside the city going west, the crew members of The Neo and the Nostradamus, lay huddled in a pile in the corner. Many of them sported some small bruises and some were even bloody, courtesy of the three agents that surrounded them. Only Circuit was not harmed. He was seated in a wooden chair away from the group with the worst agent of them all: Smith, who was smiling in a way that would send a chill down anyone's spine.

"Now, I'm going to ask you once again," Smith said smoothly, slowly circling Circuit like a vulture as he sat in the chair, his fear showing through the brave face he was trying to put on, "How do I hack into the system.?"

"I already told you," Circuit said slowly, "I don't know." Smith's smile disappeared and he glanced over at the agents standing around the other captives. One of them nodded and delivered a hard kick to Magnet's ribs. He uttered a cry of pain, but it was weak.

"Stop hurting them!" shouted Circuit, his eyes widening. What was he supposed to do?

"Then tell me what I want to know," Smith told him firmly. His smile was back, more of a smirk then a smile. The boy was beginning to look defeated.

"Circuit," a bruised and exhausted Ace managed to mumble as he tried to sit up, "Don't tell him anything. We'll be fine." For his input, Ace received a shoe in the side of his face, spraying the floor lightly red.

"Stop!" cried Circuit desperately, "Please." Smith's patience was running out. He grabbed a clump of hair on the back of Circuit's head and held him still. The agent reached up and took the dark sunglasses from his face. A pair of cold, dark eyes now stared into Circuit's hazel ones.

"Tell me how to hack into the system, and I'll let you all go free." Circuit looked at him, his eyes telling a story of an inner battle within his mind. Would he really let them go? He sounded sincere…

"No," he said suddenly, his face contorting with determined defiance. He spit in Smith's face.

Smith closed his eyes to protect them from the moist projectile. He let go of circuit and stood up straight. He wiped his face clean with one hand, then put the glasses back on. If that was how the little brat wanted it then that was fine with him. He glanced over at the other agents again, sending a silent message. One of them nodded again and smiled slightly. This agent reached into his coat and pulled out a gun. Smith smiled. Circuit's eyes seemed to bulge out of his head as he saw the gleaming metal in the agent's hand. Before he could protest, the crack of a gunshot echoed throughout the warehouse.