Unsettled by what she had discovered, Morgana wondered why Smith would lie to her. He appeared so convincing, she thought. I used to be so sure that everything he was saying was right, but what if it's all a lie? What if what Natasha was saying in the dream was true? What if ... and in between that thought, she swallowed nervously. What if it hadn't been a dream, but reality?
Then her apartment wouldn't be in complete order, she thought, remembering the gunshots and all the shattering glass. Something, however, compelled her to examine the glass that had shattered in her dream, appearing to be just as intact and in place as before, but looking at it closely, she realized something strange: it wasn't quite exactly like the glass she was used to—something about it wasn't refracting light the way it was supposed to. What if it isn't real? She thought, and as she looked at it, it appeared to bend back and forth, almost like soft plastic.
Blinking rapidly in disbelief, her heart raced as she couldn't believe what she was seeing.
"Oh god, the doctor was wrong—I'm totally losing it!" She told herself, stepping back from the window. Closing her eyes to try and relax, she decided to try and slow down, breathing in and out deeply, slowly, until her heart calmed down.
But ... what if I'm not? What if there's the slightest possibility that I am right, and Natasha was right, and that the Matrix exists? She wondered.
Sitting by the glass again, she stared at it, asking herself again, What if it isn't real?
Sure enough, the glass started wobbling back and forth again, and she pressed her finger against it, out of curiosity. It still felt like glass, but behaved like a different compound entirely. So very wrong to the laws of physics, yet so interesting, she considered, deciding to face her fears.
"This is kind of fun," she said out loud. I wonder what else I can bend ...
Glancing at a flower nearby, a red rose that Smith had given her, she held it in her hand and tried moving the flower around.
Just relax, she told herself, If this isn't real ... then the rose is not real.
Watching the rose bend, it bent so far back that it snapped, the bud and petals falling to the ground, causing Morgana to gasp. She felt pained that she had broken something Smith gave her, but he had also broken her trust.
"What if this is the Matrix?" She whispered this wild idea to herself, and then as fear gripped her of what this could mean about Natasha, herself, and Smith, she felt herself become wrought with anxiety again.
She had no choice other than to keep her knowledge from Smith a secret, and then run off with Natasha. After all, if Smith had lied to her about her sister, he was definitely lying to her about himself. Who was he really, and why was he doing this to her? Was he really a killer, which she saw a hint of last night? Just as he had played a ruse on her, she now had no choice but to play her own part this time.
Facing the Council of Twelve, Captain Ulrikson, Natasha, Marcus, Orion, and Jet, along with the rest of the crew, sat, awaiting their fate. They each went through their individual accounts of what happened, from their interest in Morgana, her first interaction with Agent Smith, and the romantic involvement and manipulation that ensued; down to the reconnaissance and first failed rescue mission. Not forgetting to add that Smith had somehow spared her, and that Morgana was making strides again, they hoped that this would convince them to approve a second rescue mission.
"So," Councilor Ysasi said, a quizzical look contorting his old face. "You are suggesting that a sentient program, a machine, nonetheless, is capable of human emotions? Of love? Of the need for sexual gratification?"
"Councilor, I am not suggesting it, I have seen it," said Natasha. "I saw it when I gathered intelligence at the hotel, and I saw it when I tried to rescue Morgana. He had the look and the demeanor of someone who was defending someone he loved; it felt very personal."
"I concur, Councilor Ysasi," said Marcus. "In all my years of experience as an Operator—eight, to be exact—I have never once seen an Agent act this way in the Matrix. All they do is kill, interrogate, chase us down; but they don't enter hotel rooms, take humans to dates, or much less, kiss them."
"Councilor Ysasi, if I might," said Councilor Hamann. "In my habit of sleepless nights, I have wandered around Zion, reading anything I could to keep me from sleeping. Having picked up many books, I came across this unique fact that has lived in my mind for all these years: that Agents are, in fact, capable of evolution ... What could trigger it depends on each Agent, I suppose. The vast majority of them don't evolve, but Smith, I fear, like Potentials, is different from the rest of his kind ... He is not merely some other cog doing the Mainframe's bidding, no ... He is independent, he is more human, but also, more dangerous."
His statement brought on some gasps and loud murmuring between the Councilors, and Natasha and the crew looked at each other.
"Do you see now, why it is that my crew felt compelled to act? Morgana's in grave danger, the closer she is to finding the truth, and we suspect that it will happen any moment now. If Smith ever catches even the slightest hint of that, it's game over for her. We have to put a stop to it now, or her blood's not just on our hands, but on yours as well," said Captain Ulrikson.
The murmuring within the Council became shouting, particularly between two staunch defenders of opposing points of view.
Councilor Dillard, a stern-looking older woman with long, silver hair, announced in a commanding voice, "Quiet down, you two. Settle your quarrels outside this hearing, or otherwise, don't attempt to represent our Council."
Feeling shame at being reprimanded, the two men sat back down, clearing their throats and gazing awkwardly into the distance. Natasha, Marcus, Orion, and Jet laughed quietly, and Ulrikson shot them a look.
Councilman Dane, another older gentleman, said, "It is clear that we will require some time to reach a consensus. We thus call a brief recess into effect."
Clearing the room, Natasha whispered to the crew, "We don't have time for a recess. I know that it's not gonna take much longer for Morgana to wake up. I can't leave her to Smith by herself."
"There's nothing we can do right now, Natasha," Ulrikson said. "You'll just have to trust that she does the smart thing, and she will, because she has to."
"I hope so," Natasha said. "But I'm sick of hoping, it's driving me insane. I can't rest until I have her here, safe and sound in Zion."
"I know, Natasha," Marcus said. "Come, let's have a bite. You haven't eaten all morning."
"Alright, fine," she said, and the crew all went outside the Council Chamber to look for some street food vendors that usually occupied the heart of Zion. Looking around, the city was vibrant with so many people, laughing children were playing tag in the streets, and the scents of delicious food drifted in the air. Natasha wished Morgana could see this. Soon, she thought.
Morgana sat frozen by the computer, paralyzed by having to make a decision. She hadn't visited the blogs in over a month, and felt almost apprehensive at doing so. Deciding to brave it, she typed in the address and arrived to the homepage, seeing that the number of unopened messages hadn't changed. Clicking over them, she finally read them, and was able to confirm the theory of what the Matrix is: a lie, an illusory world that she and most other people were trapped inside of. The Agents, of course, like Natasha wrote, were keepers of the Matrix. She was able to connect the dots now.
The following questions she had then, were, So if this world isn't real, then what is the real world? What exists beyond what I know? And how does one get there?
But before she could even conceive of typing them, Agents Brown and Jones stormed into the apartment, kicking the door down with a loud thud. Screaming in a panic, Morgana shot up and bolted up the stairs as fast as her legs could carry her, and quickly shut her bedroom door, locking it, and pushing as many heavy objects in front of it to barricade it. Aided by adrenaline, and the intense fear she felt while hearing their heavy footsteps running up after her, she was able to miraculously push her heavy wardrobe and bed against the door.
Fuck, what now? She thought, hearing her heartbeat booming in her ears, feeling as if she could explode from trepidation. She looked out her bedroom window, considering a jump, and immediately thought, Oh no. No fucking way.
Suddenly hearing an approaching helicopter's pulsing rotors over the roof, she started shouting in her head, FUCK! Fuck fuck I'm so screwed!
Just as the Agents reached the door and were starting to break it open, Smith came down from the roof, hanging by the helicopter cord, and powerfully connected his fist with the window, smashing it to bits.
"Come on!" He shouted at Morgana, stretching out his hand.
How do I know I can trust you?! She thought, hesitating a bit, but as she heard the door starting to give, she changed her mind. Oh, fuck it! The devil you know is better than the one you don't!
Seeing as it was her only chance to escape, she took Smith's hand and grabbed onto him.
"I've got you," he said, "Hold on tight."
Fastening a safety holster around her quickly, he wrapped his strong arms around her and gave the signal for the helicopter pilot to take off. Lifting into the air, and away from the chaos, they barely left before Agents Brown and Jones broke through the door and started firing at the helicopter. Floating with nothing beneath her feet, save for a holster, Smith, and a cord to hold them both—and now the metallic sounds of bullets ricocheting off the chopper—Morgana screamed, and buried her face deep inside Smith's chest, where despite everything, she felt safe. Holding onto him so tightly that her arms were hurting, she couldn't let go. As her mind raced in confusion, panic, and relief that he had saved her, she asked him, shouting, "Smith, what is going on?! Oh god, I've always hated flying! Fuck!"
Pulling out his .50 caliber Desert Eagle, and shooting back at the Agents, Smith yelled, "I'll explain later!" as they fled from persecution.
About thirty minutes had passed before the crew of the Jupiter was summoned to reconvene with the Council. Each of the participants from the previous mission hoped that they'd get approved, and even the crew mates that hadn't been involved were seeing how necessary it was to intervene.
Councilor Dane initiated the session, and Councilor Hamann delivered the verdict.
"Having assessed the risks and benefits, the Council has agreed to approve your mission with a vote of 7 to 5," he said.
"Yes!" Exclaimed Natasha. Marcus smiled at her as the rest of the crew cheered. Ulrikson looked pleased, underneath his collected demeanor.
"And as for your service status," Councilor Dillard said. "We have reviewed your transgressions and agreed that while typically, they would result in termination, you did what you had to do, not only to save your sister, but to aid our cause in Zion. For that, we commend you, and are allowed to continue your term aboard the Jupiter."
As the crew felt a sense of relief wash over them, they all felt a small part of the weight lift off their shoulders. They now had a much heavier weight to carry, and there was no time to waste.
"And another thing," added Councilor Grace. "This entire operation and all the details thereof stay strictly confidential. Whatever was said in this Chamber, and on the Jupiter, will not get out by any circumstances."
"You have our word," said Captain Ulrikson. "Thank you, Councilors."
"Yes, thank you," said Natasha.
"Well, this now concludes today's hearing," said Councilor Hamann. "Be safe, and we wish you the best of luck."
After the hearing concluded in victory, Natasha felt fired up once again. She knew that she was infinitely closer to freeing Morgana, she could feel it the last time, and now, she was even more determined to complete what she set out to do.
With the Jupiter ready to set sail again through the concrete and metal seas of civilizations lost, the crew discussed intel, strategies, and precautions, before descending to broadcast level.
"Where is she now, Marcus?" Asked Captain Ulrikson.
"She's with Agent Smith, Captain," he said. "While looking at her apartment, it looks like it's been stormed by some Agents about an hour ago, Sir."
"Fuck, they know," Natasha said.
"Don't worry," Jet reassured her. "We'll figure it out. We always do."
"Do you think Smith was trying to save her?" Asked the Captain.
"From what it seems like, yes," said Marcus. "He's holding her in the same encrypted hotel room; at least Natasha's familiar with it."
"So he truly is in love," thought Orion out loud.
"Stranger things have happened," remarked Marcus, shrugging. "As encrypted as it is in the Matrix, the Agents will have a tough time finding where they are."
"The problem is, he won't want to let her go," said Natasha. "How will we even negotiate with a fucking Agent? He went fucking feral the last time, and that's because he was holding back."
"We don't," said Commander Harker. "As soon as Smith sees us, he'll go arms blazing. It's impossible. We'll have to lure Morgana out some other way."
"Or perhaps, we lure him out first, then have Morgana escape," said First Mate Quicksilver.
"We need to see what we have at our disposal. We won't know until we're there," said Second Mate Valery Kuznetzov in a thick Russian accent—who simply went as "V".
"Looks like we might have to improvise a little, folks," said the Captain.
"Wait, I have an idea," said Natasha.
"Let's hear it," said Captain Ulrikson.
"I know it's risky, but it might just work," she said, and grinning in satisfaction as she presented her idea, the crew nodded, and decided to follow it.
"I'm in," said Bruiser, the Second Engineer, and the rest of the crew followed.
"Well, ladies and gentlemen," Captain Ulrikson announced. "The time is now. Godspeed."
Moments later, giving careful thought to what she would wear and carry with her in the Matrix, Natasha furiously programmed it into her computer.
I'm ready to kick some Agent ass, she thought.
As the crew all reclined on their chairs, and helped each other jack in, Marcus paused by Natasha again before proceeding.
"Well, this is it," he said, looking at her. "You ready?"
"As ready as I'll ever be," she said, her green eyes looking up at him.
With one last glance, Marcus inserted the jack into the back of her head, and said, "Take care of yourself, and go get your sister."
His swift keystrokes were the last sounds everyone heard, as the darkness swept them up, and in the blink of an eye, materialized inside the Matrix.
With everyone appearing dressed in what their favorite fashions were for missions, most of them wore some variation of leather jackets or long trench coats, perfect for concealing many weapons. Most of them clad in black, the Captain, who preferred dark brown, and Natasha, who was dressed in a black corset with leather pants and a long, bright red PVC overcoat, stood out. Of course, each of them wore sunglasses, signifying that they were part of the Resistance.
Situated in the same unkempt office space that Natasha had appeared in the last time, the crew gathered their weapons and ammo and got them ready. Leaving V to be their lookout—who reluctantly agreed to his least favorite assignment—the crew descended down the stairs and out the alleyway.