Chapter 7

It has been said that when the Council put a four-months pregnant Trinity in charge of rebuilding Zion's fleet of hovercraft, they had absolutely no idea what they were getting themselves into. That is, what was intended as a simple initiative to return the army's capabilities back to what they had been before the War, was quickly and radically revised by Trinity into one of the most expensive and labour-intensive projects ever undertaken by the hand of man in the modern age. Indeed, what the then newly-wed Trinity started was nothing less than a Technological Revolution.

"This City's Fleet has been the pride of the people for centuries, gentlemen," Trinity had said to her team of engineers, assembled for the first time in what used to be Jason Lock's command center. "So we're not just rebuilding ships here. We're rebuilding a national identity. I want you to forget everything you think you know about designing hovercraft. Because what we're going to build hasn't even been dreamed of… at least not yet."

Trinity's vision was, quite simply, to create a force of ships that would eclipse any technological wonder Zion had ever seen before. And it was not a moment too soon. The city had spent two years rationing food, water, and electricity as repairs of critical life-support systems crawled along. The Machine Army had left nothing but piles of barely-salvageable scrap and wreckage, and the mass casualties of the invasion made the clean-up effort slow-going. But once the domestic projects reached completion and several oil and iron-ore rich regions were demilitarized by the Machine Army, Zion could finally spare the human and mechanical resources needed to accommodate a rapidly-expanding population. And Trinity made the decision that this meant a whole new approach to freeing minds.

She began by assembling several multi-disciplinary research teams, assigning them the arguably impossible task of developing a faster, more efficient tracking and requisition protocol. "That over twenty percent of Targets die by drowning is unacceptable," Trinity had announced, shaking the army's yearly casualty report in her hand for effect. "Everyone, I want you to look around this room at your colleagues. You're the best programmers, the best physiologists, the best engineers that we have. Your mission is to find a way of grabbing the target directly out of the pod. I don't care how you do it, rip the whole damn thing off its stem if you have to. But we're not fishing through the sewer sludge for them anymore. That method is over a hundred years old – we can do better."

Trinity would become infamous for not taking 'no' or 'we can't' or 'the laws of physics won't allow for that' as an answer. Many speculated that the pregnancy had something to do with her no-nonsense attitude, but the truth was, Trinity's delicate condition simply made it very difficult for her male counterparts to argue with her. Nobody dared upset The One's pregnant wife. If she didn't kill you, her over-protective husband definitely would.

"I have something to show you," Trinity had said one night in bed, wrapped in Neo's arms, sifting though a pile of blueprints. She selected the one of interest and handed it to him. "And feel special, Lover. You're the first one who sees it."

Neo grinned as he studied the hand-drawn draft. "A ship?"

"Not just any ship." She snuggled closer so that her head was cradled in the crook of his neck. "The Neb."

With a child-like excitement, Trinity pointed out several of her most significant modifications. The diamond-plated, heavily-insulated hull was completely redesigned, mostly inspired by Niobe's suggestions. The ship was about the same size as the original with more aerodynamic, sleek angles that gave it the look of a futuristic stealth aircraft. The nine main pads were redistributed to make room for nearly a dozen smaller ones and a system of thrusters. If the theoretical design yielded the expected results, the Neb would be one of the fastest, most manoeuvrable ships in the fleet.

"And look, bigger crews' quarters. Captain's private bath with central heating," Trinity continued. "Morpheus will be the pimp of the entire army with accommodations like this. It's nicer than our place."

"I don't think Niobe would like that."

Trinity chuckled, the image of Niobe shooting a cheating Morpheus' kneecaps off flashing briefly in her mind. "The poor man is whipped."

"I can empathize." Neo closed his eyes and braced himself for impact, but instead felt the welcome sensation of her lips in his. One of her hands slid under his shirt and her fingers danced playfully across his chest.

"Mmmm… you'd better believe it." She shifted into a sitting position on his lap, arms around his neck. "Now the two of you can sit over a drink and bitch about how the wife's driving you nuts and the kid is ruining your sex life etcetera, etcetera..."

"Whoa, whoa! What's this about my sex life?"

"I'm just saying. Since David was born, Morpheus probably hasn't been laid once." She sighed, one hand on her steadily-growing bump. "Looks like you only have about two months left. Then, the honeymoon is over…"

"So I'd better get it while I can?"

"Uh-huh."

Neo hardly needed to be asked twice, throwing the blueprints aside and claiming what his shrewd wife would have him believe was a non-renewable resource. Surely, she was joking about Morpheus' one-year-old son draining the romance from his marriage. But still, one can never be too careful…

In fact, David was the pride of both his doting parents, an unexpected product of the Captains' steamy reunion almost immediately following the end of the War. When the child was born (over two weeks late), it was the first time Trinity had ever seen Morpheus cry.

David grew to express a very attractive combination of both of his parents (Trinity joked that he was fortunate to be blessed with Morpheus' height and Niobe's hair), and developed an affinity for flying, having been taught the ins-and-outs of the sewers by a rather demanding mother. It was said that she was training herself a competent co-pilot to occupy the place she'd never been able to satisfactorily fill after Ghost took command of his own vessel. It was therefore a great surprise to Trinity when Niobe asked her to consider David as a second-chair onboard the Neb.

"Ghost has a full house, and you and Neo are the only other ones I trust," Niobe had said in earnest. "I know you'll keep him from showing off too much."

"What about the Logos?" Trinity flipped through David's application, skimming his impressive aptitude test scores. With some experience, David would probably be a better pilot than she was.

"Well, I'd accept him if he wanted the spot. But it looks like he's finally cutting the cord." Niobe shrugged, but couldn't hide the hint of regret in her tone. "It was going to happen sooner or later, right?"

Trinity considered that they'd all expected it to be 'later' rather than 'sooner.' David worshipped his mother. Trinity could hardly believe he'd take a position that would keep them apart for such extended periods. It was certainly out of character.

That being said, Trinity would not regret her decision. David accepted her offer with the same restrained, controlled calm that would make him a truly wonderful co-pilot. Nothing shook him. Over the past year, Trinity had found herself in a few tight spots with David, situations in which she would expect a rookie to falter under pressure, but never once did he even flinch. He'd simply do his job, communicating in a smooth, velvet-like voice which reminded her so much of Morpheus, she would occasionally slip and call him by his father's name while they were at the helm. It was almost like having him there. Like the old days, she'd often think with a pang of nostalgia.

And so it was usually with a great deal of joy and pride that Trinity arrived at the Dock for a new mission. David would come with his father to help move things into the cargo hold while Rorie helped her do the routine systems check before they shoved-off. In many ways, the sequence of events before launch, executed in a hectic production of last-minute cargo mishaps, minor system glitches, and disgruntled Control staff dramas, was a long-standing tradition that Trinity wouldn't change if she could.

Indeed, bringing the Neb to life after a long break was like shaking hands with an old friend who reminded her of the best parts of her past, and represented her hopes for the future. And truth be told, she couldn't help but look at the impressive vessel as one of her most significant personal accomplishments. The design had required very few modifications over the years, and good maintenance had kept her looking like new. Unquestionably, she was the best ever built. Hers to fly.

But this morning, everything seemed to be different, tainted by all her recent troubles. Trinity was exhausted from another restless sleep, having drifted in and out of consciousness for six hours. She had already arrived home when Neo returned from the Dock last night, and neither had said much to the other. Predictably, the first words out of his mouth had been a sincere 'I'm sorry,' and they both knew exactly what he was apologising for, and exactly what he wasn't. The apparent accusation of infidelity was not an issue. She knew he didn't mean it, and in retrospect, Trinity found it difficult to blame him for losing his temper with her.

They'd slept separately, she in their bed, and Neo taking Rorie's room, a mutual agreement that was born less out of animosity than a need for some space to unwind. And although Neo had dutifully maintained the tradition of making them both breakfast the morning of a new mission, their conversation had been laboured and tense. She wanted so much to ask him about Rorie, if he'd seen her, how she was, but she knew it was a delicate question, and they had a lot to do that morning. More than that, she knew that Neo was worried about Smith, but there was nothing to discuss regarding this matter. They'd just have to wait and see. So they'd filled the silence with the benign details of that morning's checklist and dispassionate chatter about a few technical glitches she wanted ironed out before they shoved off.

When they arrived at the Dock at half-past seven, Trinity found none of her usual comforts. David was filling the Neb's aft cargo holds alone, and explained that his father was due to hold another meeting with the Council concerning yesterday's tragedy on board the Proteus, and so would not be able to see them off as he normally did. Moreover, Trinity found their medic busy with the gear and the systems checks that Rorie would usually help her with.

"Sorry about that, Trinity. Rorie isn't here and I didn't think you'd care to do it alone. I took the initiative to run the routine stuff for you." Hawk-Eye, her tall, blonde-haired doctor handed her the pre-launch flight data. Born and raised in Raleigh, North Carolina, she still had a hint of the sweet, southern accent of her youth. "All systems check out, although the FAO feed is out of phase by .03 cycles. It's in parameters, but Kirk is checking it out just the same."

Knight made his appearance a full fifteen minutes late, hair mussed from sleep and panting from his mad dash from bed to the Dock. Trinity noted that his T-shirt was on inside-out, his clothing wrinkled. She doubted he'd done any laundry during the leave. She made a mental note to 'accidentally' throw his clothing in with hers once they got underway. Ironing, too.

"Sorry, Trin…" He exaggerated his gasps for effect. "You'll never believe it…but I was going to be here on time… except I ran into a pack Sentinels in the elevator! I had to fight them off with nothing but my bare hands. Now, I understand that saving Zion from a bunch of lawless machines is no excuse for tardiness, but-"

"You're right, I don't believe you." She pointed out the tag hanging from the front of his shirt's collar. "What did they try to do, undress you to death? Or is this just standard superhero uniform?"

He grinned as he threaded both arms through the T-shirt and lifted it over his head. As he untangled the ball of fabric in his hand, he sucked in his stomach. "T'aimes ça, hen? I've been working out. Like with weights and everything."

a/n: "T'aimes ça, hen?" Pretty messy slang for "oh, you like this, eh?" - notably, he uses the informal pronoun "Tu", rather than "vous", which suggests familiarity.

Trinity rolled her eyes at his barely-visible collection of pseudo-muscles and twelve curly-blonde chest-hairs: his pride and joy, no doubt. "You haven't been to dinner once in two weeks. Don't tell me you slept the leave away."

"You know me too well. Just woke up five minutes ago."

"I thought there were Sentinels."

"And I thought you didn't believe me about the Sentinels." Knight threw his top back on and grabbed a pile of charts from his duffle-bag. When he handed them to Trinity, he kissed her on the cheek by means of a belated greeting. Her earlier guilt-trip about blowing-off dinner invitations had not fallen on deaf ears. He should have called. "Rorie and I finished the pads last night," he said. "Here's the stats and operating manual. Not that you or Dave will read it. You rebels."

"Thank you." She flipped through them as a formality only, not reading a single entry printed on the polyetho-pyrimidine simulated paper. As she skimmed the last few lines of the efficacy report, Knight finally answered her unspoken question.

"Rorie's doing fine. She misses you, too, Trin." He slung his two bags over his shoulder and nodded at the ship. "I could hardly drag her away from it. Think of the pads as a peace-offering. We just couldn't find a bow big enough."

As the preparations neared completion and her husband helped David close up the cargo hangers, Trinity occupied herself with checking up on Rorie's twelve 3000-volt, 20-pound olive branches. Or in this case, perhaps a better word would be admiring. The installation was flawless, elegant (and chewing-gum free), as Rorie's work always was, and Trinity found herself unexpectedly moved with a mixture of pride and regret as she ran her fingers over the newest addition to her ship.

As if on cue, a familiar voice interrupted her thoughts. "Up to code, Captain?"

Heart still tight in her chest, Trinity spun around to take in the welcome image of her daughter, who joined her at the starboard wing's aft pad. Her first thought was that something was different, although she couldn't identify any specific change in Rorie's appearance. It wasn't anything as obvious as a new hairdo, or a change in clothing style. But there was something. The way she held herself, her posture, the upward tilt of her chin, it was all new. Her eyes, subtly exotic in their faint upwards slant, seemed to guard a hidden smile. Her mother struggled to read the secretive expression, and failed.

"They're perfect," Trinity finally managed, swallowing the rock in her throat. "I'm very impressed. Thank you for getting them done on such short notice."

"No problem." Rorie said evenly as she looked away. "But take it easy on them for the first couple days. And tell David not to try anything crazy. They're not ready for his brand of kung-foo yet."

"I will." Trinity struggled to find her daughter's eyes again. "How have you been?"

But before Rorie could answer, Neo walked up to them, and spoke to Trinity, his tone apologetic. "Control says five minutes, Trin. We have to go." Then, to Rorie, "Promise you'll be good?"

"Promise." In the traditional Zionist style, Rorie kissed her father on both cheeks, and then in her traditional style, wrapped her arms around his neck and briefly lifted both feet from the ground. "Be careful," she said. "I heard what happened yesterday."

Neo pulled away and exchanged a quick glance with Trinity. He was under the impression that the details of yesterday's incident were still being kept quiet. "What did you hear?"

"David told me Elisa and Indira were killed in the field. Caught in a PD crossfire."

Neo let out a sigh of relief. He knew that if and when the real story got out Rorie would be devastated, along with the rest of Zion. The people still did not fully trust the Machines, and the press needed very little excuse to reignite talks of war. Indeed, Neo knew from experience that it wasn't just his daughter's peace of mind that was at stake.

"Don't worry, we'll be alright. Back before you know it." He picked up his and Trinity's bags and headed for the Neb, leaving his wife in an awkward silence with Rorie, who had already begun to mumble something about having a few experiments running in the lab on nano-algae. She glanced at her watch.

"You'd better get going then." Trinity hesitated, but then touched her daughter's arm and said, "I love you."

It was more of a question than a statement as she searched Rorie's unreadable expression for some reassuring sign of forgiveness, but it was not to be. Rorie shrugged herself free and muttered, "Yeah. Well, as I said, enjoy the pads…"

For a moment neither said a word, each standing firmly on their ground, two wills opposing each other in silent challenge. Trinity was the first to concede defeat, and it didn't take long. Feeling the full weight of a broken heart in her chest, she brushed tired strands of hair from her face and broke eye contact. "I'll see you in a few weeks."

As she turned and walked towards the ship, Trinity felt more like a failure than she ever had before. Years of sacrifice and devotion to nurturing the most important relationship in her life had crumbled under the weight of one moment. Could such a precious bond really be so fragile? A minute ago, Trinity wouldn't have believed it possible. In almost ten years of missions, she and Rorie had never parted unpleasantly. It felt as if an entire chapter in her life had just come to an abrupt end; an innocence was lost that could not be regained.

Trinity pushed through the crowds of workers which were slowly dispersing around the Neb. Just as she reached the boarding ramp, struggling to bury her impertinent emotions below a well-polished exterior, Rorie's voice hollered out from behind her.

"Mom, wait!"

Rorie had broken into a jog to catch up to her. She collided with her mother in an embrace. "I'm sorry, Mom," she said. "I love you, too."

"Oh. My Only." Trinity held the back of her head, silken hair smooth between her fingers. This child, this perfect child, was the world to her. "I've missed you... do you have any idea?"

"Yes. I know. Me too." Rorie looked up at the ship. The primary pad cuffs were already charged, the hum of electricity rumbling in her ears. There wasn't much time. She squeezed both her mother's hands tightly. "Mom, take care of Dad, okay? He needs you."

"I don't-"

"I just have a bad feeling about this, you know?"

Trinity knew only too well. Eyes closed tight in a silent prayer, she pulled Rorie to her heart once more, whispered a promise in her ear, and kissed her forehead three times, their time-honoured goodbye preserved.

When Trinity met Neo at the top of the boarding ramp, he smiled at her, then glanced over her shoulder at Rorie as the hatch began to close. In a subtle gesture of approval, he let his hand gingerly brush the small of her back. "So are we go?"

"Yeah, we're go." Trinity artificially returned his smile, betraying none of the foreboding reaction that their daughter's goodbye had stirred in her. As the two of them made their way to the cockpit, Trinity couldn't help the menacing thought that the protective bubble which seemed to have enveloped her family for the past two decades was about to burst. Something was about to happen, or had already happened, that would change everything.

"Captain on the bridge!" Kirk announced her arrival in the cockpit. Knight was standing next to him, saluting Trinity and her husband with exaggerated formality.

Neo rolled his eyes. "What are you two doing in here?"

"I asked them to leave," David said soberly over his shoulder as he fastened his seat-belt in the co-pilot's chair.

"Ensign Kirk here has a special request," Knight said, ignoring David completely. He nudged his short, carrot-topped colleague forward.

"Well, uhm…" The nervously-disposed Operator fidgeted for a moment before gathering enough wit and courage to deliver his line. "We would like to be present for the first successful test of the newly-assimilated trans-warp technology, Ma'am."

Neo grinned. Trinity frowned; she wasn't amused. They all knew how she hated crowds in her cockpit, and being an avid Star-Wars fan, she appreciated the Trekkie-lingo even less. Folding her arms and scowling at the two partners-in-crime, Trinity needed no words to communicate her malcontent. Kirk cowered, but Knight called her bluff, grinning back and raising his hand in a live-long-and-prosper salute. He must have been feeling particularly brave, because he also threw in a wink for good measure.

The occasional near-fatal error in judgement aside, Knight never challenged Trinity unless he knew she'd break. Indeed, before moving out on his own, he'd spent five years frequenting her household, during which Knight had the rare opportunity to study Neo's charismatic genius when it came to pacifying the most intimidating Captain in the fleet. Remarkably, more often than not he got it right, and fortunately for the cheeky protégé, this morning he'd made a good call. After enduring a few terrifying seconds of Trinity's well-known ice-blue glares, Knight was rewarded for a well-played round of what Neo often called his 'ongoing game of Russian roulette with a gun named Trinity.'

Her irritation with the Vulcan gesture of peace aside, Trinity considered that Knight had earned a spot in the cockpit that morning. He had helped with the upgrades, and Kirk was known to have a particular interest in the applications of statistical thermodynamics to enhancing hovercraft propulsion though bends in space-time (in theory, anyway). And truth be told, she was just as excited as they were about trying out the new pads. It had been awhile since they'd had a new toy to play with. So, Trinity decided to give Knight his victory (besides, if she drew out the tension any longer, she feared her poor Operator would faint).

She sighed. "Well, gentlemen. If you must, please try to keep out of the way." She pretended not to hear their squeals of excitement as she took her place in the Captain's seat and glanced over at David. "That is, if you have no objections?"

"I just want to get this bird in the air," David replied gravely, turning on his instruments. "If those desk-monkeys think they can handle it, the two of them can stand on the hull for all I care." He mumbled so only she could hear, "I'd prefer it, actually. I've gotten good at my 360 flips."

Trinity couldn't hold back a chuckle. Her co-pilot's dead-pan humour, rarely expressed if at all in the cockpit, was a welcome recall to the familiar. It reminded her of Niobe.

"This is Control to Neb, we have you all green. Copy?"

"Yes, the Neb hears you, Control," Trinity replied to the staticy voice over the radio. "We were just dealing with a few bugs here in the cockpit. I think it's under control now, though."

"Very well, Captain. You're clear on Gate 3. And good luck to you, ma'am."

Trinity nodded to David, giving him to go-ahead to release the docking clamps. As the ship buzzed to life Trinity revelled in the familiar sensation of the tiny vibrations in the controls tingling beneath her fingertips. She leaned back in her seat, and Neo rested a hand on the shoulder of her chair.

"So, here we go," he said, more to her than anyone else.

"Yeah," Trinity replied, eyes keen on the gates ahead. "Here we go."