a/n:

-to Zinck, whose work "Zinck's Story" I greatly admire. Thank you for being this fiction's first review.

Chapter 1

Neo sat alone in his vast office, sifting through the piles and piles disks that he'd found on his desk that afternoon.

What a mess. What a complete disaster, Trinity. And what the hell do you want me to do with these?

They were applications, hundreds of them, all competing for the single internship that Trinity held yearly aboard the Nebuchadnezzar. He had half a mind to have them all sent back to her desk, with a strongly-worded note attached, telling her to deal with them herself, for God's sake. She was the Captain, after all. This was her little project, not his.

Traditionally, Trinity always offered the prestigious position to the top student in her Topics in Advanced Engineering class, a hands-on conference for which she personally selected only six of the most impressive senior Academy students. Every year, the infamously demanding instructor would assign an impossible feat of ingenuity for her unfortunate pupils to tackle - double the top speed of their hovercraft, triple the range of their ships' sensors, quadruple the efficiency of the engine. In short, she'd set them up for failure and then scrutinize the results, being secretly impressed that they'd accomplished what they did, but never letting her satisfaction show. It's how she'd discover the most inventive young minds from the Academy. Nothing but the best, the brightest, the over-achievers would succeed. 'The Future of the Resistance,' is what she called them.

Those little suck-ups drove Neo crazy.

But this year, it was supposed to be different; Neo had been looking forward to working with Trinity's top student, her most promising protégé. This year, it wasn't another arrogant young son or daughter of a Council member, or naïve child-genius who'd never seen the inside of the sewers before. This year, he'd hoped it would be their daughter.

"No. She's too young," Trinity had said as she frowned at the formal letter of application that Aurora left at her office. "I need someone… older."

"She'll be eighteen soon. That's old enough, Trin."

Trinity sighed. "I don't see why she's interested in my internship at all. She seems perfectly content to sit in the lab all day-"

"You know why, Trinity-"

"The surface is no place for an eighteen year old girl. The idea of risking your life for a soil sample and a few barometer readings is ludicrous. This is the army, Neo."

"The Surface Reconstruction Project-"

"Failed."

"It can still work and-"

"It failed, and twenty-seven of our researchers died trying to make it work. Not Rorie. There are plenty of people to collect samples for her."

"Trinity, if she's going to help lead the next SRP, she needs experience in the field."

"I need an engineer, not a… biologist."

"Oh, come on. She's a better engineer than most of our crew, and you know it."

Trinity leaned back and groaned. Of course she knew that. Over the years, she'd taught her daughter everything she knew about electrical engineering and propulsion. And, although Rorie seemed to find sewer-beetles and blue-green algae more interesting than hovercraft, she could still run circles around most of her better mechanics. This wasn't a question of her daughter's competence.

Trinity closed the microcomputer on her lap and concluded, "In any event, there is an obvious conflict of interest here. Even if I wanted to accept her, it wouldn't be ethical for me to do so."

But Neo was not about to let the matter go so easily. He'd argued with her about it all evening, and it had escalated into their most heated row in a very long time. Eventually, Neo stormed out in frustration to take a walk around the upper levels, a decision that was ill-thought out. When he returned, he found his daughter in her room crying, and Trinity was sitting at the kitchen table, glass of hard liquor in hand, drafting a notice to all senior Academy students advising them of the newly-available position on her ship.

The two lovers of nearly epic proportions had hardly spoken since, and a large, invisible space was slowly filling up between them with all the things they wanted to say to each other, but didn't. He found her unreasonable, and he was sure that she found him unsupportive. And frankly, the fact that she had the nerve to send a plethora of applications over to his office for review, knowing full-well how he felt about it, was eating away at his last nerve. She could have at least compiled them onto one disc for him. He had a feeling that she had done it more to bother him than anything else.

What a monumental mess, Trinity.

Neo testily pushed the applications back into their boxes, and decided to head over to the Dock to check on his estranged daughter. She'd been staying over with Morpheus and Niobe for the past five days, and Neo couldn't blame her. He knew she was crushed by Trinity's decision. To be quite honest, he was crushed by Trinity's decision.

He was about to leave when there was a knock at the door. "Yes, I'm on my way out. Leave a message with…" But he didn't finish the sentence.

"Busy?"

Better known to Zion by the pet-name Rorie (except to the ever-ceremonious Morpheus who insisted on always using the full name), Aurora smiled sweetly at her father as she peeked through the door with deep, curious brown eyes. Her daughter's most striking feature, Trinity had once described them as the reincarnation of Neo's gorgeous dark-chocolate orbs; kind, expressive, and strong. "They inspire absolute confidence," the mother had observed proudly. "They're a Saviour's eyes."

Needless to say, Rorie had a lot to live up to. And she had no intentions to disappoint. A vibrant and energetic young woman, the daughter of the acclaimed Zion war heroes had inherited her mother's natural affinity for the sciences, and none of her father's shyness for showing it off. Neo could seldom find her anywhere else besides the Loading Dock or the SRP labs. And, although he'd nagged her for years to try on a dress once in a while, it was to no avail, and Rorie persistently 'borrowed' her mother's old army uniforms and sported them as vintage haute couture.

However, as Neo examined her today, he saw a rather strange compromise. He noticed that she wore none of Trinity's things, but rather a boat-necked peasant blouse, corseted to just below the breast in the contemporary Zionist style, along with a pair of breeches and knee-high worker's boots.

She was also complete mess, as always. Rorie's clothes and face were smudged with engine grease, and long, wild strands of raven hair exploded out from two large buns on either side of her head. Neo suspected that Niobe was responsible for the elaborate 'do.

"You know I'm never too busy for you." He took her warmly him his arms, resting a protective hand on the back of her head. "I was actually on my way to the Dock to see how you are… Princess Leia."

"Who?"

Neo chuckled. "You free-borns are so deprived. Next time Trin and I have a Star Wars marathon, you should come."

"I hate watching movies with you two. I don't get the jokes and the code gives me a headache."

"We'll use the image translators, just for you."

"It's okay. It really isn't my thing."

Rorie pulled away from the embrace, avoiding eye contact. A silence passed between them and Neo as scrutinized some black smudges she'd left on his shirt. "Well, all I meant is that you look beautiful. You know I've missed you at home… so has your mother."

"Yeah, well." She closed the door behind her and looked at him gravely. "Daddy, I need your help."

Neo sat at the edge of his desk and folded his arms. He had a feeling that he was about to be placed in a rather difficult position. He was right.

"I want you to sign my application for admission to the army. If I'm lucky, they'll let me do scoutwork on the surface for an SRP science vessel."

"What?"

"I'm through with the Academy. I can't stay there another year. Mother is driving me crazy and the other professors bore me to tears."

"Oh, Rorie." Neo shook his head. "You know I can't do that. Your mother…"

"Has gone insane? Yes, I've noticed." She sat Indian-style in one of the tall-backed marble seats that faced her father's desk. "Look, this is what I want. It's what I've always wanted. It doesn't matter if I don't finish the program. Any Captain in this force will take me in a heartbeat, you know that. Well… almost any Captain." She sighed. "I should be out there… in the field, where I can do some good. I can't stand Zion. I feel so… useless here."

Neo could empathize. Ever since the War ended twenty years ago, he and Trinity had discussed giving up the army, and they did for a while, after the baby was born. To keep busy, Trinity took on the initiative to build new ships and engineer more efficient technology to accommodate the increased influx of freed Targets. And Neo, after a frustrating year of dabbling in Zionist politics (what a mistake), took a sincere liking to teaching orphans to bend spoons and defy gravity in the constructs.

But after nearly a decade of their own version of domestic bliss, the 'retired' Saviours of Zion grew restless. Especially Trinity. Indeed, when Neo looked at his daughter now, he could see his wife ten years ago, itching to get her hands back on the controls of a ship, complaining of the miserable heat in Zion, and the slow, frustrating pace of her life. She wasn't happy then.

And so when Morpheus was finally offered a much-coveted position on the Council, Neo suggested that Trinity take over as Captain of the Nebuchadnezzar, Mark IV no.1 (circa 2120), given the one condition that he be allowed to serve as her First Officer. It was simply a perfect solution. Indeed, it gave Morpheus nearly as much pleasure to give his ship to Trinity as it did her to take it.

For the first few years, their missions were short and intermittent, but their time away from the city gradually increased as Rorie became more independent. It was comfortable; army life was much safer than it used to be, save the occasional mischief caused by exiled programs from the Old System, and a few isolated incidents of rogue machine armies disturbing the peace in the sewers.

And now that Rorie was old enough, Neo was looking forward to showing his daughter the ropes (and, until recently, he thought Trinity shared that dream). She was a talented engineer and mechanic, and her extensive knowledge of biological life and environmental conditions on the surface made her a valuable asset to the new terraforming projects.

"My entire life I've known that this is what I'm meant to do," Rorie continued. "I just need you to let me do it. Let me be the person I was always meant to become." She got up and took his hands in hers. "I am my father's daughter. And I'm not afraid of anything."

Neo shook his head and touched her cheek with the back of his hand. He had a feeling she'd rehearsed this speech before dropping by. He could imagine her standing in front of the mirror, trying to find the perfect words to convince him to endorse her application, to give her the key to a door to which she never thought she'd be denied entry in the first place. It broke his heart; Rorie needn't have bothered. He not only knew her frustration, he felt it as well.

Neo also knew that when she turned eighteen in a month, Rorie would no longer need his signature to do anything. She didn't come here because she needed his approval. She came here because she wanted to be sure of his support once Trinity found out what she was planning.

"I know, Rorie. I know. But this is not about me. I think the person you really want to say all of this to… is your mother."

Suddenly, his phone rang. Neither one moving, they stared at each other for a long moment as the loud buzzing sound pierced the silence. Five, six, seven rings. This person would not give up. Eventually, Neo unplugged it and looked back at his daughter. "Sorry."

"I can't talk to her. She won't even hear what I have to say."

"Give it time. She's just under a lot of pressure right now, that's all."

Rorie glanced over at the boxes on his desk. "Yeah, she has to choose which one of these wannabes would best serve as my replacement. I can't believe she's making you sort them. Here, let me help." She closed her eyes a picked a handful of random disks out of the pile, and read the labels. "This guy is incompetent… this one, arrogant… this one arrogant and incompetent… now that's a scary combination."

"Put those down and let me worry about it." Neo took the diskettes from her. "What are you doing for dinner tonight?"

"I usually eat on-site. Whatever's lying around."

"Yikes." Neo knew what that meant. Niobe had her eating Army Surplus Reserves. Gruel. "How about the two of us go out? Let your old Dad show you a good time."

"Don't want to go home, eh? Niobe has some space on the living room floor if you're interested."

Neo dipped his head to hide a smile. She could read him like a book. "No, I just miss you, that's all. And it will be a few weeks before we're back this time around."

The Neb was scheduled to leave Zion in a few days, and Neo wanted to make sure Rorie was okay before they left. Then again, it was probably in his best interests to iron out his differences with Trinity before they were forced into the more confined living quarters aboard the ship. Indeed, maybe the person he should be showing a 'good time' to was his wife.

"I'd love to, Dad… really. But I should go now. Niobe asked me to help upgrade the hoverpads on the Logos. Have to earn my keep, right?" Rorie turned to leave, but then hesitated. "But I'm working late at the Dock tonight. Can you come by and see me? I think I could use the company. Gets lonely without Mom there. And stuff. You know how it is…"

Neo wanted to hold her and never let go. "I'll be there… promise." He kissed her forehead, tasting a salty mixture of sweat, grease and dirt on his lips.

She becomes more like Trinity every day.

"Thanks." Rorie put a disk on the corner of his desk. "And think about this, please. It's important to me." As she opened the door to leave, she added, "And tell Mom that I… tell her that I'm fine."

And with that, she was gone, leaving Neo with one more worrisome diskette to contemplate. He put Rorie's in his shirt pocket, and as he filed the rest of the applications back into their boxes, Neo thought about what best to do with the rest of his day. After a few moments of wrestling his pride against his better judgement, he resolved that he would go down to the market and get some ingredients for dinner. Trinity loved it when he cooked for her. Or she used to, back when he used to cook for her. He remembered a time when the two of them would consider it blasphemous to waste an evening alone, and he wished that the simple act of going home, drawing them a bath, and lighting a few candles would solve the problem. But he knew it wasn't that simple.

Their estrangement went beyond simple differences in parenting style. Trinity was different … she was distant, anxious, moody and sometimes, even cold. Something was bothering her, and she wouldn't tell him what it was. And she always told him what it was.

Neo hadn't felt this removed from her in a very long time. Not since they returned from the Machine City twenty years ago, after what was surely the most traumatic experience of their lives. Neo found it difficult to reconnect with Trinity after the War ended, after he'd already said goodbye twice, never expecting to see her again, or anyone else for that matter. Of course, in a fairy tale, the two lovers would have reunited as if nothing had happened, celebrated life as if they'd never truly lived it, and instantly embraced the opportunity to build a well-earned future together. But the price of Reality is that nothing is that simple, and their eventual happiness was the gradual product of a long period of healing for both of them.

As he left his office, Neo tried to decide what to cook for dinner, and what vintage Zionist liqueur his wife would enjoy with the meal. The oldest fermentations were actually quite good, and he had promised Trinity a long time ago that once he ended the War, they'd never have to drink WD-40 again (although they'd still occasionally do so on the ship, for old time's sake).

Settling on something dry and more than usually potent from the Lower Levels (circa 2180 or perhaps earlier), Neo arrived at the elevators and summoned the lift. When the doors chimed open, however, he nearly jumped with surprise. Standing there, shattering his dreams of a candle-lit supper and a rare bottle of wine was Trinity herself, giving him a very impatient look.

"Finally. There you are." She pressed a button on the elevator and motioned for him to join her.

"Nice to see you, too, dear."

She let the doors close completely before delivering the news. "Neo, Elisa and Indira are both dead. In the field."

He caught his breath. "Oh, no. Ghost?"

"Apparently, he's fine. I don't know anything else. There's a meeting in the Conference room now. I had to come and get you." She scowled. "Why in the hell isn't your phone working?"

"I've been having problems with it all day," Neo lied as he continued to stare straight ahead, hands clasped behind his back. He avoided looking at his wife's distorted reflection in the aluminium-plated doors. "I should really get it fixed."