Hello, Everyone!
This is the prequil to what I like to call the "TRINNEO" chapters... :) you're all in for a treat...
Now, this chapter is long, I realize... and it's a bit "all over the place"... one of my friends called it more of a "gossip column" than an actual chapter! All this to say, Trin is the J-Lo of Zion, and Morpheus is something equivalent to Sean Connery.
Anyhow, I had fun with it, but this collection of little mundane stories is not to be taken "too" seriously. The next chapter is actually complete (and very fun), and will be posted very soon (TRINNEO stuff... FINALLY I know it has been along time coming!) Enjoy- Kristen.
CHAPTER 5
"Hey, pretty lady."
Trinity gasps, and squints up to see Tank standing next to her. She'd been sleeping, but not in bed.
"Where the hell am I? What… what time is it?"
"Pretty late… thought you might want to get to your room. If not, I can get you a pillow, but you should know you look pretty dumb snoring in this chair."
"… I… I slept through the afternoon?" Trinity squints around the Core, wondering how she'd managed to arrive there, and how long she'd been passed out. The room is fuzzy.
"Yeah. Morpheus told me not to wake you for dinner. He said you deserved a break."
"Oh… no."
"What?"
"Morpheus." She slaps her hand up against her forehead and scrunches her face, as if wincing in pain. Now she remembers. "Nothing. Nevermind that. How's Neo?"
"Actually, he's fine. He was awake earlier. Looks like we'll be able to start tomorrow after all."
She scowls and stumbles out of the chair, grabbing onto Tank's shoulder for support. "I suppose that's good news." She looks around the room lazily, blinking sleep out of her eyes. "You're operating for him?"
"Yep."
Trinity is silent for a moment, looking worried. "Tank. Please… take care of him. Don't…"
"Give him the usual Baptism-By-Fire?" He grins. "It's Combat Training 101, Trinity. He'll be fine. He's out of the woods."
"Yes, and into the jungle."
"Better than Kansas."
Trinity nods. "Hmmm." She sits on the edge of the chair and places her hands on her knees. "You'd think."
Tank looks at her thoughtfully. He was expecting her to be much happier to hear that Neo was finally out of immediate danger. The last two weeks had been a taxing roller-coaster with respect to the new Poddie's health, and Tank watched helplessly as Trinity frowned through the ambiguous medical reports that Dozer made at breakfast. It wasn't often that she ate anything. He doubted she slept much, either.
"Hey." Tank smiled kindly at his friend. "Do you remember what I said about him… after the first time we watched Neo together?"
"Yeah, you said he was boring."
"Uh-huh." Tank nudges her shoulder gently. "And then what did you say?"
"Hmmm." She smiles half-heartedly. "I said, he's not boring, Tank… he's quiet. There's a difference." She looks up at him and raises an eyebrow. "Boring people lack substance. Quiet people are simply surrounded by people who lack substance. I said… he's quiet because, like me, he's too damn smart for Battery Park." She nods. "I said… he's quiet… because he's stronger than they are."
"So?"
She smirks wryly. "So? So…I don't know. I'm all out of witty comebacks, Tank. Believe me, I've more than used my quota for today." She shakes her head and tucks her hair behind her ears. "What I wouldn't give to relive the last twelve hours as a deaf-mute. I honestly… I don't know what's wrong with me."
Tank hesitates. He has a very strong suspicion of what's wrong with her, and it is quite a list. Ever since she'd begun watching Neo in the Matrix, Trinity had not been herself. Indeed, when Morpheus found her dozing in the Core earlier today, Trinity was supposed to be helping out with a glitch in the long-range scanners. Instead, Tank was covering for her. And it was not the first time. He'd taken all of Trinity's shifts in the med-bay, and had concealed more than a few of her dangerous mistakes in the Matrix. Of course, he didn't mind - she more than compensated for his services by taking most of his shifts at the monitors, but it was not Trinity's wont to be inconsistent in her work, or so careless in the field.
Beyond these superficial observations, however, Tank cannot assume to know Trinity's mind, let alone her heart. She is almost as much of a mystery to him now as she was the first day he met her. Indeed, although he'd been Operating for her and Morpheus for the past four years, he found it very difficult to become close to either of them. Morpheus was impersonal, and Trinity was cold. Morpheus was impatient, and Trinity was… more impatient. And certainly, they were both unbearably narcissistic. If fact, it was a joke among the officers that the Captain and his most trusted confidante would rather train sentinels to man the Neb than actually deal with a human crew. Tank found it funny because it was probably true. Trinity and Morpheus worked well together because neither accepted anything short of perfection, a standard that the two of them rarely failed to achieve.
Tank and Dozer came aboard the Neb following Niobe's promotion to Captain of the Logos and her subsequent departure with both Ghost and Sparks to operate the new ship. Niobe's promotion, which seemed to come simultaneously with her affair with Commander Lock, was one of the more volatile scandals to involve the army in some time, and Tank was privy to much of the gossip that surrounded Morpheus and his estranged crew. In fact, before Tank even met Trinity, he'd heard her to be uncommonly brilliant, defiantly impulsive, and often unfriendly. Before long, Tank decided that not only was her reputation accurate, but it seemed to be proudly earned.
Other rumours, however, were much more elaborate, having been forged in the loose and metamorphic web of imagination rather than fact. The result was a collection of speculative stories that were as irresistibly juicy as they were unflattering. Interestingly, the object of most of the gossip was not Niobe, but rather, Trinity. It seemed that the socialites of Zion had tired of the Niobe/ Morpheus break-up and were seeking a more fresh source of drama.
Indeed, Niobe's decision to leave the Neb was hardly a surprise; the once fairy-tale-like romance between the eminent Captain and his beautiful young engineer had been over for nearly a year, and all of Zion knew it. Their awful rows could be heard echoing from their quarters, and there were whispers that Niobe had even forced Morpheus from their room on the Neb, and that he slept in the cockpit. Later Tank would hear from Cypher that this story was, in fact, only half true. Niobe had indeed banished Morpheus from their bed, but it was Cypher who ended up in the cockpit. It seemed that Trinity insisted that the Captain take her room, and Ghost, who wouldn't have her sleeping in the pilot's chair, gave her his. Then Trinity, who couldn't bear to see Ghost suffer, called upon Cypher to give up his bed… as a personal favour to her. "What can I say? The bitch had me wrapped around her pinky-finger," Cypher had explained with a smile. But something about his tone gave Tank the impression that he was dead serious.
And so it was that by the time Niobe left the ship, Zion had exhausted the topic of her infidelity and Morpheus' sleeping arrangements. The more interesting issue, it seemed, was the fact that Ghost was leaving, too, and that Trinity only found out about this at the Council meeting that formally announced the change of arrangements. Tank was at that meeting, and he still cringes when he remembers the look on Trinity's face.
"Excuse me, Councillors," she'd said, rising confidently to her feet. Trinity pushed waves of beautiful long, shiny hair from her face. "I believe there is some mistake. The relocation is slated for Niobe and Sparks only…" She searched the room, presumably for Ghost, who was not present.
The silence that followed was thick, and Niobe leaned over to Trinity and whispered something in her ear. Trinity glared disbelief back at her, and shrugged away the hand that Niobe tried to rest on her shoulder. Tank didn't know Trinity then, and knew nothing of Ghost, either, but familiarity is not a prerequisite to understanding what he saw in Trinity's eyes. It was a homogenous mixture of incredulity and humiliation. In an unprecedented breech of protocol, she insolently turned her back to the Elders and walked towards the door, her pale face burning at the cheeks, and her eyes hard as steel.
Those who knew them wondered at Ghost's unexplained decision, and noted that the once inseparable colleagues were suddenly barely on speaking terms. The natural conclusion was that the two of them had secretly been lovers for years until Ghost finally decided to break it off. Of course, Trinity would never comment on the status of their relationship, and Tank would never ask. But if Ghost ever became the topic of conversation on the Neb (and he was often brought up by Cypher), Trinity would fall silent, and, failing a quick change of conversation, abruptly leave the room, all the while glaring at Cypher with an air of contempt.
The day following Trinity's horrible ordeal with the Council, Tank was scheduled to move his things onto the ship, and meet the rest of the crew. On his way to the Dock, however, he overheard another very popular tale which took a completely different (and much less plausible) perspective on the personal life of the Nebuchadnezzar's newly promoted First-Officer. Apparently, there were some in Zion who wondered at Trinity's close relationship with Morpheus himself, and cited Trinity as the real reason for Niobe's leaving. It didn't take Tank long to realize that this was certainly one of the most far-fetched stories, and that unfortunately, he was not the only person who had heard it.
As he walked into the Neb's Core for the first time, Trinity's voice echoed off the metal hull:
"Kiss me Morpheus! Let's do it. Like we've always wanted to. Right here, in the Operator's chair."
"Trinity, calm down. I told you, it doesn't matter what anyone thinks."
"Well, don't you find it ridiculous? Niobe, the Zion-Patron-Saint, is off with Lock - and for some reason, I'm the tramp! Hell, if we're going to be accused of it, we might as well have some fun. There's nothing to lose, right?" Trinity hopped into the chair, and looked at him matter-of-factly. "So, take your pants off. I want to see what I've been missing."
Tank cleared his throat. Trinity peaked over the headrest and flashed him a huge smile. "Oh, you must be the new Operator. I'm Trinity…" She boldly walked up to him, and firmly shook his hand.
Tank just stared at her. Trinity's once angelic, waist-long hair was impossibly short, cut in uneven chunks about one to three inches from her scalp. Her cheeks were flushed, and her face was smudged with engine grease. Beads of sweat glistened like dewdrops on her forehead and chest.
"I read your application, of course." she continued, never taking her eyes from his. Tank nervously glanced over at Morpheus. The Captain's face was contorted into a half-amused, half-apologetic expression.
Trinity folded her arms. "You're a good engineer." It almost sounded like an accusation.
"Yes." Tank finally managed to say.
"Excellent." She nodded. "Then you can help us out. The third and sixth pads are over-performing, and we can't figure out why."
"Oh, Well…"
"Yes. It's quite a problem, because they're both on the port side. So, when we fly, the whole ship tilts to the right. Everything just slides right off the damn tables. Impossible to get anything done." Trinity looked at him seriously for a moment, as if expecting an answer.
Tank just stood there, puzzled.
"A joke, soldier."
"Right." Tank scowled. "All of it, or just the part about things sliding off the tables?"
Trinity simply raised an eyebrow and motioned for him to follow her. "Of course, we compensate for the delta-psi with our starboard pads, but this doesn't completely solve the problem… not in my books, anyway…"
"Trinity," Morpheus interrupted. "I want him back in two hours. In one piece, if you can manage."
"Give him to me all afternoon, and we may be out of Zion by tonight… lovvver."
Morpheus gave her a tired smile. "Yes, that would be nice, wouldn't it? Tank, would you mind? I'm sure you understand that we're eager to get underway. Zion seems much smaller these days."
Tank just nodded, and followed Trinity down to the bowels of the ship, where they spent the next seven hours tweaking it to absolute perfection.
To his surprise, she didn't speak much at all to him after they left Morpheus, preferring rather to work quietly. Even when they took a break for supper, she didn't make any attempt at conversation. She preferred to read over schematics and reports. He never asked her about what had happened in the Council's chambers the day before, or what in God's name had happened to her hair. And he didn't dare speculate about her relationship with Morpheus. But that night, through the thin walls of the hollow ship, he heard her cry. She cried her eyes out.
Back in the present, Tank finds himself walking a very tired Trinity to the ladder leading to the lower deck. "You know," he says to her thoughtfully, "You're allowed to care. About Neo, I mean."
"Don't shrink me, Tank." She smiles sadly. "It's a lost cause. I'm beyond your aid." After a long pause, Trinity then asks, "Is everyone asleep down there?"
Tank grins to himself. He knows exactly whom Trinity is hoping to avoid. It is ironic to him that she'd taken every opportunity to watch Neo in the Matrix; to visit his home; to stake-out his workplace, and now that he's finally here, she's turned shy. "Don't worry, the coast is clear. Go to bed."
As Trinity descends the ladder to the lower deck, Tank hopes that she will sleep in, and that Morpheus will let her. He doubts it. Lately, her relationship with the Captain has not what it used to be. The flippant and familiar mood that was so acutely felt when he'd seen them together that first day in the Core had slowly deteriorated into a tense tolerance of each other.
Of course, they never fought in front of the crew. In fact, they very rarely fought out loud. But the subtle glances, sometimes probably even unconscious exchanges of gestures and tones, had made Operating on the Nebuchadnezzar like walking barefoot through a field of shrapnel. Especially since Neo had entered their lives, he felt that he could almost cut the tension in the cockpit with a knife.
It was disheartening for Tank to see the two of them so alienated. Indeed, Tank had always thought of them as an inseparable team, two officers so bound by years of side-by-side combat that they shared an unshakable mutual confidence. They could anticipate each other's actions, read the tone of each other's voices, and, as if through a strange form of telepathy, always know exactly what the other was thinking. This, of course, was what made their weekly sparring match so interesting to watch.
In his characteristic bawdiness, Mouse once commented that the long-standing tradition of the Senior Officer's Duel was "better than porn" (and this was quite a compliment coming from the ship's most enthusiastic voyeur). Switch's half-sarcastic, half-serious response was that Trinity probably got more of a sexual payoff from fighting Morpheus than Mouse did from watching it. The nasty implication was that her notoriously undersexed superior officer filled the sexual void in her life through the periodic release endorphins, catecholamines, and other natural opiates afforded by a good knife-fight, fencing match, or, perhaps best of all, hand-to-hand combat. "I'm telling you guys," Switch smirked, "Her ideal boyfriend is an Agent. Someone who can really kick the shit out of her when she really needs it bad. Morpheus is too soft."
These were the sort of alcohol-induced comments that floated around the Core as the crew gathered around the monitors, watching as Trinity and Morpheus argued about the parameters of the imminent blood-bath. Trinity often pushed for a simulation of the Matrix, where she could use stealth and cunning to find her own weapons, and then hunt down her prey. The Captain, on the other hand, who didn't revel in the foreplay of the chase as much as his counterpart did, preferred the comfort of familiar surroundings and his favouriteKatana Samurai Sword.
Unbeknownst to the two rivals, the crew would drink, laugh, and place bets on the winner. More often than not, Morpheus would emerge victorious, of course, but Trinity always fought with such passion and style that made her the uncontested favourite. Even Switch, whose relationship with Trinity was never more than stonily polite, couldn't help but cheer her on. Trinity was the only one who could hold her own with the Captain, and, perhaps most impressively, she did it with a wicked smile on her face. High on the rooftop of a skyscraper, on the smooth floor of the dojo, on or the cold concrete of a city alleyway, she'd taunt him, laugh at him, and always take a severe beating for it. It was the only time Tank ever saw Trinity laugh whole-heartedly without inhibition. Even when she finally conceded defeat, there was an air of immense satisfaction about her.
The only times Tank ever saw a hint of disappointment on Trinity's face was, if fact, when her mentor gave up, and with a broad smile of pride and respect, declared her the winner. It seemed that even when the Captain was bloodied and drenched in sweat, Trinity couldn't shake the suspicion that he'd let her win. She'd reluctantly accept congratulations from her colleagues, and sometimes Tank would catch her looking through the records of Morpheus' vitals for signs he was holding back. The Captain called it her 'inferiority complex'. Trinity called it 'women's intuition.'
But, to the immense disappointment of the crew, the two legendary opponents hadn't sparred in a very long time. And if Switch was right, Trinity's lack of sleep and bad eating habits were compounded with months of built-up sexual frustration. Indeed, perhaps her recent fascination with their (uncommonly attractive) new Target is not a coincidence after all.
Tank smiles to remember how her heartbeat peaked when she'd talked to Neo in that club. It was nearly comical. He had watched this woman take on an army of law-enforcement officers with nothing but a Beretta-92 and a half-empty clip without breaking a sweat. It certainly wasn't like Trinity to let anything rouse her. But Neo did. He could tell. Indeed, of all the Targets that the two of them had unplugged over the years, Neo was the only one for whom she'd baked.
"Tank. I need you to do something for me," Trinity said one afternoon, with a very serious expression on her face. "It's a secret, though." She handed him a disk.
"What do you need? Proofreading?" He scowled and popped her program into the Operator's console.
"No. A tasting." Trinity sat in one of the chairs. "Jack me in."
For the next hour, Tank grinned at the screen as Trinity sampled about twenty of her own recipes in the Construct.
"You know, I already have some birthday cake programs. One of them has Superman on the top."
Trinity smiled, phone in one hand, fork in the other. The table in front of her was covered with plates of half-eaten slices of bunt cake and half-empty glasses of milk. She wasn't going to ask what Tank was doing with birthday cake programs.
"No. I wanted to write it myself."
"Ah! It's more personal that way."
"Sentimental fool that I am." Trinity rolled her eyes and dusted some icing sugar from the breast of her leather outfit. "No, Tank. I had to make it myself because, for starters, Neo is lactose intolerant. So I used soy products… and then, I had to cheat by re-writing the soy so it tasted half-decent."
"Right."
"And secondly, that cheap coloured icing is too damn sweet. And it's bad for you. It's full of artificial flavours, preservatives, food colouring…"
"And Mr. Anderson is very health conscious." Tank's voice dripped with sarcasm.
"No. But I am." Trinity dabbed her mouth with a napkin. "Hmmm… I think I've got it." She licked her finger and picked up a few crumbs off the plate. "There's a slight lemony aftertaste to this one."
"You're quite mad, you know."
Trinity laughed. "It's decided. Marble bunt no. 5 it is."
"You want candles? I don't know if we can fit thirty-seven of them on there, though."
Tank regretted the words the minute the left his mouth. The smile instantly vanished from Trinity's face. His question was met with a tense static as she tossed the napkin onto the table and rose to her feet. "No. Forget it. Just get me out of here, would you? I'm tired."
As Tank settles back into the Operator's chair to begin the graveyard shift, he hopes that Neo's performance in tomorrow's training will help put Trinity's mind at ease. Then again, she probably wouldn't come to watch. Something told him that Neo would not have the benefit of Trinity's famous '4M tutorial' any time soon. It seemed that Tank would have to cover the Motorcycles and Machine Guns this time. And as for Trinity's favourite lecture on Makeshift Explosives & Molotov Cocktails, Tank wouldn't even know where to start. That woman could make anything explode. Somehow, Neo would have to learn how to detonate a bottle of vodka and rum with nothing but a stick of bubble gum and spare parts from his cell phone all by himself.
Tank shakes his head. Neo is going to have a rough time of it without her.
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