a/n: Thank you to eveyone who continues on this journey. for your support and comments and everything! agent bunny, zinck, phia, r. reeves, shatteredimage, eyes of sky, limiya, etc etc... i hope you like it! - Syd

Chapter 27

The sun was setting on Genesis as Knight strolled along the earthen streets of the settlement. He was in the commercial district, which had grown immensely since the last time he visited. Artisans and merchants set up shop on the sides of the road, bellowing out to passers-by, trying to attract business. In many ways, the hustle and bustle reminded him of the smaller markets in Zion, which in turn reminded him of why normally, he avoided shopping like the plague. But this evening he was making an exception. After all, he had a date tonight. Knight smiled to himself. He had a date with Aurora-fair.

He wasn't good at picking out gifts. And it was difficult to find something that she didn't already have. Men tried to sell him everything from bottled fireflies (or faeries, according to the sales-pitch) to medicinal bog-sludge, which was guaranteed to cure arthritis and improve the look of crows' feet. Rorie would love either, but only as another specimen to examine under her microscope, and Knight wasn't about to be upstaged by a jar of green slime, no matter how fascinating its microbial flora might be.

By the time he finally decided on a purchase, it was ten minutes to his fleet meeting. It was quite possible that he'd be late, and Trinity would be upset, which was the last thing he wanted. He was already feeling nervous about facing the captain as it was, having spent half his morning kissing the woman's only daughter. And that he couldn't stop grinning about it wasn't a good thing, either.

As Knight hurried to the command hall building, he tried to compose himself. But the closer he got, the more nervous he became. She was going to know. The moment Trinity looked at his face, she was going to know. She probably already knew, using some kind of crazy long-distance mother-by-adoption psychic voodoo. That's what he used to call it when he was younger: her 'magie noir.' And to this day, he still believed that she could read his mind.

'La rouge ou la bleu, mon prince,' was the question she'd asked twelve year old Gabriel de St Justine, standing on the altar of an abandoned church. They were surrounded by candles, gargoyles and angels, and she seemed to fit in there, to blend into the backdrop perfectly. When she bent down to look him over, to wrap her jacket around his shoulders, Knight felt as if he were being hypnotized by those piercing green-blue eyes. This was the legendary Trinity, who guarded secrets beyond his ability even to imagine.

"You took the red one."

"Yes."

"Then so will I."

She closed her hands on both pills. "Never mind. What do you want?"

"I want you to save me."

"That isn't what I do."

"Then what?"

"I open doors. Doors that lead to places. That lead to the truth."

"About the Matrix?"

"Yes."

"Is that where my parents are? Is that where they went? Can I see them when I get there?"

She sighed, and her face softened in the dim, flickering candlelight. She reached out and touched his chin, which was quivering. "No," she whispered. "I'm sorry. All I can offer you is the truth. And once you know, you can never come back to this place. You need to understand that."

Knight tried not to cry in front of her. But in spite of his best efforts, the tears flowed down his cheeks in abundance. "Then... but… who will take care of me?"

He felt her pull him against her while he cried, all the while trying to stop. But her gentle stroking of the back of his head only made him sob more. Nobody had ever held him like that before. "I will," she whispered. "I promise. You'll be alright."

It was a monumental breech of protocol. She could have been reprimanded, or even demoted for saying something like that to a target. Everything Knight had said indicated that he wasn't ready, indicated a child who had been abandoned long ago, and was reaching out for affection. He didn't take the pill to discover the truth, not primarily. He took it to get away from an abusive foster home, and to be with Trinity, who had earned his trust instantly. He knew this in retrospect.

Once, he'd asked her about it. Why did she do it? It was just the two of them working on the ship, not long after he graduated.

"What? You regret my decision? Should I put you in a box and send you back?" she'd teased from under some wiring.

"No, but... it must have been a tough call. How did you know I'd make it?"

She pulled herself up, smiled at him enigmatically. "Lucky guess, I suppose."

Of course it was more than that, but being Trinity, she'd never tell him her reasons. She was one of the strangest, most mysterious, most giving women he'd ever known. At times he envied Rorie for being her biological daughter. Of course, he didn't anymore. After all, if he were Rorie's brother, he would have missed out on the chance to fall in love with her, which was certainly the better deal. Knight felt giddy and corrected himself.It was the way, waybetter deal.

The fleet meeting hadn't begun by the time he arrived, so he squeezed his way into the hall, hoping to maintain a low profile. If he was lucky, he could get a seat in the back and sneak out early. For a moment it looked at if his plan might work, because he could see neither Trinity nor Neo in the crowds of chatting officers. He let out a sigh of relief and thanked the gods for mercy.

"Good. You're on time."

He nearly had a heart attack, hearing her voice come fromdirectly behind. "Jesus, Trin!"

"I'm sorry. I didn't mean to startle…" Trinity trailed off and took a step closer to him. "Are you wearing aftershave?"

"No." There it was again, in her eyes. The magie noir. He thought he would faint. "I mean… well, yes. But it doesn't mean anything."

"Your uniform is ironed," she observed. "And your shoes are polished."

"Uhm…"

"And… what… what's that in your hair?" She reached up to touch the rigid curls. "Is that some kind of… product?"

"Yeah." Now he was feeling self conscious. Perhaps he'd gone a bit overboard. "You know, I just thought I'd try out something new… wanted to look nice for the fleet meeting… and stuff."

"Uh-huh." Trinity's lip curled, and as she looked him over once more, he had to fight the impulse to turn around and run into the woods. She was worse than the Oracle.

"I got you something," he blurted out, reaching into one of his bags nervously. "I was walking in the market and this made me think of you."

Knight handed her a glass jar of maple syrup, fixed with a bow on top. "I thought we could try it on snow cones," he explained. "Authentic cabane à sucre style."

Trinity smiled faintly. "Thank you." She met his eyes. "And you look very nice, ensign. I'm sure Commander Lock won't be able to resist."

He grimaced at the suggestion as she offered him a seat next to hers. "Is Neo coming?"

It took her a long time to answer. "I think so."

"I'm sorry, I-"

"I bought you something as well," she interrupted, reaching into her coat pocket and handing him the gift. "I hope it doesn't interfere too much with your new 'do."

He had to laugh as he unfolded the navy blue wool. "It's a toque. It's a toque with my name on it. Trin, you really, really shouldn't have."

In fact, it read, le Prince du nord.

"I got Rorie one in pink," Trinity said. "It gets cold on the lookout."

"You saw her?"

"Yes, by accident. She was on her way up the bluff with a telescope and a computer. Said something about Jupiter rising in Scorpio. And that you're supposed to join her later."

"Yeah. She wants to take up astronomy as a hobby. But I wouldn't be surprised if she ends up rewriting the textbooks."

Their conversation was interrupted by a gavel knocking on metal; Commander Lock seemed eager to get things started as quickly as possible. First, Baines droned on for twenty five minutes about the building projects on site, the water-purification protocols, and some plans to begin mining. A few environmentalists protested, and were ignored. Knight shook his head. Rorie would go nuts if she were here.

Neo arrived late, and leaned against the door jamb at the exit, arms folded across his chest. He frowned through the nonsense, remaining quiet and standing, despite the availability of several seats in the back row.

"We've lost two more ships in the sewers due to sentinel attacks," Lock announced once he had tabled the topic. "That's five this week. It seems the machine resistance was unable to protect them as promised."

The commander looked up to the back of the room, as if challenging Neo to comment. This was not the first time Lock had voiced concern about their allegiance with Synergy. Nobody paid him much mind at first, as it was not unlike him to be take on a mildly alarmist position. But lately, the facts had been piling up on his side, which emboldened him immeasurably.

"At this rate, we would not survive a direct attack on the city," he continued. "What assurances do we have that any progress is being made? Neo?"

Technically, he should have addressed the question to Trinity. But she seemed unaffected, craning her neck along with the rest of the room, as if she, too, were curious to hear The One's reply.

"Recent attacks on the 01 power core have been successful," Neo said evenly. "It's only a matter of time before they sign the treaty."

"Neo, if I may," interjected a councilman. "Considering the risks involved, many in my position are wondering if we shouldn't quit while we are ahead."

Neo scowled. "Sir?"

"It is conceivable that the machines will sign a truce with us, if we stop our attacks on their energy reserves."

"That will leave them in control of the Matrix."

"And our city will be safe," argued Lock. "We would still have Genesis, which is a formidable resource. It sounds like a damn good bargain."

The room erupted with officers banging on tables in agreement, and others shouting in opposition.

"What about the two hundred billion lives that are still in the fields?" persisted Neo, raising his voice above the roar. "We have a chance to save them once and for all, to finally have complete freedom. Isn't that worth fighting for, commander? Isn't that worth the risk?"

At this the shouting became louder, and many men stood to applaud him. It was unusual for Neo to speak so passionately. It seemed to displease Lock greatly, and he knocked his gavel onto the table many times until it was quiet enough for him to be heard.

"Brave words. But without sound judgement," Lock said. "And I'm not the only one who says so. Is it really the two hundred billion lives that concern you? Or just one?"

At this the assembly fell silent, and Knight felt his heart stop beating. He looked over at Trinity, who had suddenly lost what little color she had to begin with.

"Synergy has accomplished what this city has only dreamed about." Neo took a few steps forward. "We owe her the chance to finish what she started."

"We don't know we can trust her. What about her… relationship with the agent?"

"She's volatile," chimed in a young lieutenant. "Remember what happened to your ship when you first came here, Neo. The sentinels? And it's rumoured that she controls the machines that live inside these boarders as well. How do we know that any of us are safe?"

Neo started, then shook his head. "They've never tried to harm us. And neither has she. We are allies."

"You don't speak for Zion," Lock countered. "I doubt you even speak for your captain."

"How dare you-"

"Please, commander, don't pain yourself with needless speculation." The cool voice belonged to Trinity, who had risen to her feet. "I'm here. I can speak for myself."

Lock hesitated, apparently realizing he'd gone one step too far.

"I'll tell you what I believe," she said. "I believe that a month ago, none of us ever dreamed that we could be standing here, on the surface, today. Many consider it a miracle. And I believe Synergy is in no small part responsible for that miracle. That, at least in my books, entitles her to a little faith."

Knight just stared up at her in astonishment, hardly imagining that Trinity trusted Synergy half as much as her speech implied. Certainly, it was all to rescue Neo from the political firestorm he'd walked into, to dispel the rumours that she and her husband were divided on the issue. Which Knight knew they were. And yet, she'd stood by him.

As people thumped and applauded, Trinity sat back down, having regained a flush in her cheeks. Neo was trying to find her eyes, which she refused to give him. Instead, she glanced out the window, into the darkness.

"Knight."

"Yeah."

"It's late. Why don't you get going?"

"Now?"

"I have a feeling this is going to be an unusually long meeting. And I'd be more comfortable if Rorie weren't up there alone. It's dark."

He was caught off guard for a moment, then felt a little uneasy himself. "Yeah. Yeah, okay."

As he rose to leave Trinity caught his arm. "Be careful," she told him with a squeeze. "And wear your hat."

Chapter 28

Rorie sipped from her thermos of hot tea, shivering a little. The howling wind from over the rocky escarpment whipped at her hair and swirled under clothing, and her breath escaped in white puffs against the endless black sky. She hugged her heavy shawl around her shoulders, though she hardly noticed the cold, as she admired the endless supply of beauty and wonder stretched out before her.

Six hundred billion stars, in this galaxy alone, and the sky still looked empty, stretching out in an inky dome to the uneven black horizon. And under this vast expanse of space sat their tiny little colony, a small constellation of lights clustered beside the lake, surrounded by mountains. It was an overwhelming prospect, for a woman who had never seen anything above her head but metal and dirt. In a way, it was a relief. To finally bare witness to the fact that shewas indeed, part of something much greater than herself.

Rorie sat Indian-style on a blanket, her workspace spread out in a chaotic arc on the ground. Her tools included three lanterns, a portable computer, several star charts and a large clipboard of graphing paper over which were scattered her pencils, compass, protractor, T-square and ruler. And her telescope, a four inch reflector which showed very few variations from Newton's original design, was mounted on a wooden tripod nearby, close to the edge of the cliff. She'd assembled it from a five-foot piece of PVC piping and a concave mirror of her own creation, and although her finder continued to show a five degree margin of error, she was pleased with the results. Indeed, for the first one of its type that had been built in over six centuries, she thought she'd done the astronomers of old proud.

Rorie's ambitious intention was to map the sky. That is, to rediscover the cosmos one star, one planet, one pulsar at a time, and to compare her findings with the Matrix's simulated universe. Fascinatingly, it looked as if the machines had got it exactly right, though Rorie's attention span for astronomy was quite short. As much as she tried to become engrossed in her work, she kept glancing over her shoulder, waiting for him. Foolishly. It was early yet, but she couldn't help herself. Every moment apart was torture.

What had happened to her? Rorie took a deep breath and looked up at the sky, trying to settle the butterflies that persisted in her stomach. Every inch of her was excited, bursting with energy, her senses hyperactive. She'd felt like this all day, ever since that blissful morning she'd spent in Knight's arms. Their conversation played over and over again in her mind, the memory of his whispered promises of devotion eliciting smiles from her at the most inopportune moments. It was unlike her to be so distracted, such that some of her colleagues at the lab had noticed and asked her if she was quite herself. To this Rorie had answered honestly that no, she wasn't. How could she be? When she was so in love…

For the past three weeks, Rorie hadn't dared to expect Knight would return her feelings, and in fact, that was hardly her concern. If he came home unscathed, it would be enough; she'd be selfish to ask the gods for more. But the tone of his last letter, and way he'd looked at her, and the way he'd touched her… Rorie couldn't think of the sensations without blushing. She'd never imagined Knight could be so sensual, so passionate. Somehow, he knew exactly how to kiss her. He knew how to put her at ease, how to make her forget everything in the world except for him, his voice, his eyes. It was a transformation for which she hadn't been entirely prepared. She'd expected them to be timid, awkward, unsure at first, if anything. But they hadn't been any of those things.

It was as if they'd been made for each other, though Rorie realized that this phrase was rather cliché. Yet she could find no other way of describing how wonderful it had felt to be with him, how easy it had been to entwine her body with his, to find a place where she fit perfectly. And when his hands rested on her hips, running down to her knees then back up again as he kissed her, she'd wanted to wrap around him completely, pull him in completely. To lose herself with him completely.

In truth, Rorie had never felt the need to be fulfilled sexually before, nor had she realized how intensely such a connection could touch her. The heat and tension she'd experienced under the covers with him had plucked at the untouched strings of her soul, the divine resonance from which was a song meant for him and him alone. Everything her mother had ever told her about love suddenly made sense; the 'sacredness of sex' was no longer a meaningless concept passed down from a prudish older generation. When Knight touched her, it was all the way to her soul, to the most private part of who she was. It was still very new, and a little frightening. But mostly she was happy, in a very profound way, as she never had been before. She hadn't even known this kind of happiness existed.

Rorie didn't realize she was crying until the wind froze the tears on her skin. Sighing at her inability to control the emotion, she wiped them away with self-reproach, thinking herself a terrible model for a scientist, and certainly not what her mother had expected in a daughter. She couldn't hide her feelings. Especially now, when everything was changing.

The butterflies fluttered up beneath her ribcage again, a strange wave of euphoria that was more intense this time. More imposing. Her pulse seemed to double, and her mind raced, jumping erratically from thought to thought, so quickly she shut her eyes to tryto calm herself. What was happening to her? A panic attack? She was light-headed, so her pressed her palm to her forehead, other hand over her heart. She saw explosions of light on the insides of her lids as she panted, feeling a cold sweat break out on her face and chest.

And then Rorie's eyes snapped open and she was on her feet, looking back into the woods behind her. She'd heard something. A twig breaking. A footstep. A movement. She strained her eyes in the dark, but all she could see was the dense underbrush as a quiet breeze rustled through branches. She was alone, though strangely, her instincts argued the contrary. Her heartbeat pounded in her chest, and her palms dampened with an adrenaline-induced perspiration. Rorie couldn't explain it, but something was wrong.

"Knight?"

Rorie called out his name to the wind, though she already knew he wouldn't answer. It wasn't him. It was something else that was close, another presence. But that was a terribly abstract assessment for a woman of science, and Rorie snatched up her flashlight, hands shaking, laboured breath catching in her throat when she realized she didn't need it. When she looked up the ground and trees were glowing with a beautiful, warm light that seemed eerily welcoming, and Rorie inched closer to the trees to identify the source.

Firebugs. And golden butterflies. She'd studied these before, quite extensively, though it was miraculous to find so many congregated in one place. Enraptured, Rorie took several steps forward and carefully reached out to touch one. After a few moments of careful study with the tips of its antennae, the insect leapt out eagerly onto her extended finger, crawling into the palm of her hand. Then, suddenly, there were hundreds on her body, all fluttering their wings excitedly, clinging to her clothing and hair. She was a little startled, but not afraid, thinking this a rather unusual social behaviour for a society of butterflies. Surely, thee night crawlers had better things to do than study a lovesick human as she went about her stellar cartography.

Rorie raised an eyebrow as an unsettling possibility dawned on her. "Synergy?" she asked aloud, looking around at the glittering clusters of creatures hanging from the leaves. It almost looked like drizzling code. "Is that you?"

The response was immediate, if not impolite. In a swift breeze, Rorie was nearly carried away as the swarm abandoned its wooded shelter and fled into the open air, off the edge of the cliff. It was as if they'd been frightened, though scaring them hadn't been Rorie's intention. But then she felt it, too. In a flash, Rorie spun back around to peer wide-eyed into the forest. It was pitch black. But certainly not empty.

A chill seized her body, so cold it seemed to burn her internally, and the emotion saturated her so deeply she felt it in her bones. Anger. Panic. Vengeance. And voices. She could hear voices, like a billion tortured wails blending into a deafening white noise. Never had she known anything so frightening, as if an army of invisible assailants had entered her brain and were raping her mentally, infecting her tissue and stimulating every neuron, frantically clawing at her senses in pained desperation.

"Oh, God!" she called out in shock, covering her ears with her hands in a futile attempt to block it out. "Stop it. No…"

But the onslaught only intensified, as if her having acknowledged the attackers had emboldened them, and their screams became words, broken shards of sentences which she could only barely understand. Stop it, Please… leave me alone. They repeated her sentiments exactly. Somebody help me…

Like a scalpel scraping on the inside of her skull, a searing pain overtook her, distorting her vision and crippling her movement. She didn't know how long it lasted, but at some point she crumpled over, not realizing in her agony that she was stumbling backwards, precariously treading along the edge of the escarpment. Not until her balance began to falter, not until her foot stepped into open air was she aware of her situation, and by then it was too late. The instant of sheer terror seemed to freeze her in time, and Rorie would never be able to forget the aberrant sound of her own shriek echoing off the rock face as she realized that she was about to die. There was nothing to grab onto, no way to steady herself. She saw the sky, the trees, the black splotch of the lake over one hundred feet below.

She must have been reaching out in front of her, otherwise he'd never have been able to snatch her back. Pull her back from oblivion, back onto his warm chest, two strong, steady arms locked around her body. A familiar voice called to her from what seemed like a great distance.

"Rorie… Rorie! Oh, my God… "

He said her name many times, though what else Knight mumbled into her ear as he clutched her to him was lost to Rorie. She was shaking uncontrollably, her fingernails digging into his sweater, much of her bodyweight resting in his embrace. She tried to form words but it was impossible to speak through the sobs, and she could see nothing through the tears. In truth, as the discordant choir of suffering persisted in her mind, chattering and buzzing their unholy prayer with relentless determination, Rorie was only vaguely aware of him.

She wouldn't remember his leading her to a safe distance from the cliff, or his wrapping her in a blanket and rocking her gently until the hysteria passed. Rorie was desperate to block out the noise, so she closed off her senses completely, until all that remained was the sound of a heartbeat, his heartbeat, audible as he nestled her head under his chin, his fingers tangled in her hair. She synchronized her breathing with the steadily slowing rhythm of him, letting the metronome of his soul guide her back from hell, chasing the daemons away, or whatever it was that had attacked her so violently.

Only when she was sure they were alone did Rorie dare to open her eyes again, finding herself half sitting, half lying in his arms at the edge of the forest. His lips were pressed to the crown of her head and he was rubbing a circle on the small of her back. It calmed her immensely, and although to call him a hero would be trite, this was the word that resounded in her thoughts as she sat up on her knees to hug him properly. Her cheek pressed into his shoulder as she whispered, "Oh, Knight. Oh, thank God for you."

He took her face in both his hands, and looked at her with a mixture ofconcern and terror. "What?" he asked, brushing away her tears. "What happened here?"

Rorie shook her head, not having the vocabulary to communicate her experience. Knight kissed her eyelids. Then he brushed her lips with his, nuzzling gently. It helped, and she kissed him back, resting her forehead on his. He didn't ask her again, and she was grateful for his patience, as they must have remained in this position for several minutes before she eventually found the words to speak.

"Something's very wrong," Rorie heard her voice say shakily. "Something's happened."

"I don't understand."

Rorie wasn't sure she did either. "I can hear them. I can feel them, Knight. Like they were inside my head, and I couldn't get them out… Anger... and Pain..." He hushed her as she began to tremble again. She could still hear the voices, faintly. "God, you must think I'm crazy…"

"No, of course I don't. You know I don't… Rorie… "

But his voice barely registered as the buzzing formed the beginnings of not words, but ideas. She shook her head and closed her eyes to reject it, but it was as if her mind were no longer her own, her thoughts suddenly controlled by an outside source. Data. It was some kind of encrypted text, though somehow it was vaguely familiar.

"1synitnsnqy qyfaavwaep tpmlnqcvsa lsqsyqtqag rdtvrqqfan llstivapnq

61rfpdtgfrvy vnsavikply ealmksfdtr nriiqteeqs psasqvanat qrvddatvat

121irsqiqllln elsnhggymn raefeailpw ttapat."

"Rorie. Hey, come back to me." Knight again delivered her from the chilling narration. She blinked at him, brow furrowed in what was less distress than genuine confusion. The code was gnawing at her like something only half forgotten.

"Talk to me, please. You're scaring me," he whispered.

"My father," she said back, and he nodded. "I have to speak with my father right away."