Chapter 3 - Promise
Sorcha staggered across the finish line, her stinging eyes immediately drawn to the digital display that nearly covered the grey wall ahead. The top line flashed its round, red numbers hypnotically at her: 51:03. A whole minute slower than this morning. She lowered her eyes to the gritty floor, a sour wrench of disappointment twisting her gut. Rationally, it made perfect sense - she wasn't fresh, like she had been earlier. But…
I'm faster than this, she thought dejectedly as she jogged slowly towards the exit, and the glorious five minutes of hot water that waited beyond. I should be well under fifty minutes by now. When her breaths finally stopped coming in short pants, she slowed to a walk and sighed heavily. Her quads and calves trembled with every dogged step, and as the adrenaline of the race seeped out of her blood, she could feel the exhaustion creeping in to take its place. Maybe I'll actually be able to sleep tonight…
Just before she reached the door, however, it opened from the inside and a man stepped out into the arena. He was a small man; his head, covered with fine, gray hairs, came only to her shoulder. His face was wizened like a prune, the wrinkles of brown skin bunching into heavy bags beneath ancient, gray-brown eyes. But his arms were completely smooth, the skin stretched taut over rippling muscles. It was easy to tell, from the way his ragged shirt was pulled tightly over his small chest, that the muscles there were just as defined.
He watched Sorcha approach, then turned his eyes up to the display. "Well done," he told her quietly.
Frowning, she drew abreast of him and bowed stiffly from the waist. He returned the bow, but in shallower degree. "It wasn't what I had hoped for, Master Chi."
"You went through the obstacle course this morning," he replied evenly. "Surely you did not hope to be faster this time?"
She let her lips curl slightly, but the expression didn't reach her disappointed eyes. "Admittedly, my hope was irrational."
Chi put a gentle hand on her left shoulder. "Do not be discouraged, Sorcha. Your hard work will see results." He stepped away then, and gestured her towards the door. "How did you sleep last night?" he asked over his shoulder. His tone was light - casual - but Sorcha's head snapped up as though at a reprimand.
"I slept well for a few hours, sir," she replied stiffly.
"Did you have the nightmare again?" he prodded, pushing open the steel door with a fluid, easy motion.
"Yes," she whispered, frowning at the ground.
"It is not something to be ashamed of," he replied simply. "You're continuing to meet with Psyche?"
"Every other day, sir," Sorcha answered, following him into the dimly lit passageway. He stopped just beyond the door to the shower room.
"That is good - I believe she may be able to help you." He smiled gently at her, and Sorcha couldn't resist - she grinned right back. Chi was like that - his hands and feet were lethal, his smile infectious. "Do you have kitchen duty tonight?" he continued.
"I do, sir," she replied, shuffling her feet a little. Standing still was making her legs cramp, and besides, she had only fifteen minutes before her shift began. Sugar, the cook, had a soft spot for Sorcha, but she also absolutely refused to tolerate tardiness.
Chi favored her with a brighter smile. "I am glad," he confessed. "The hlaf is always better when you are in the kitchen."
Sorcha blushed, feeling inordinately pleased that her talent for baking the sweet, flat cakes that substituted for bread in Zion had been recognized outside of the kitchens. "Thank you, sir," she told him. "Speaking of which, I, uh, really must be going…"
His crinkly eyes widened slightly. "My apologies," he said with a slight bow. "Please - " he gestured to the door. Sorcha returned the bow, then slipped into the shower room. Despite the fact that her classmates had used it an hour ago, it was still clouded with steam, and she breathed in deeply. The warm, moist air helped her lungs to relax; even they, she had realized in her first week under Chi's instruction, could become sore.
She stripped out of her sweat-caked exercise uniform, grabbed a mesh bag from the orderly pile on the shelf below the sinks, and tossed the clothes inside. Just before the row of showers, a huge vat of vaguely lemon-scented liquid bubbled vigorously. Sorcha slung the bag into the vat and carefully secured the long drawstring to one of the round knobs spaced evenly around its rim. The clothes would smell nearly as nice as they had in the Matrix, but at least laundry wasn't such a chore in the Real World.
She stepped back from the cauldron, pausing for a moment to peer at her naked reflection in the mirror. The leftover steam blurred her outline, but it was still all too obvious that she was much too skinny. Emaciated, almost - she had hardly filled out at all since her unplugging. Chi had worried about her eating habits at first, but when it became clear that she wolfed down everything set in front of her - any solid food was better than the white gruel of the Neb! - he had started asking other questions.
Sorcha let herself sigh and walked stiffly to the set of cubbies in the wall opposite the mirror. She grabbed the synthetic cotton pants and shirt off her shelf, along with the towel, rough sponge, and small vial of all-purpose cleanser she'd been issued on her first day in the Academy. She hung up the clothes and towel on the hook next to the first shower stall, but clutched the sponge and soap in her right hand. With her left, she palmed the keypad just below the hook, and the door slid open with a harsh, scraping sound. She quickly stepped inside, and as it slid back into place, steamy water began to gush from the nozzle above her head.
At least I don't have to waste time fiddling with dials to get the temperature right, she mused, squirting a few drops of the cleanser into her hands. She quickly massaged the frothing liquid into her short hairs and scalp, then dripped more onto the sponge and began vigorously rubbing every bit of skin she could reach.
She could still hear Mongoose's cracking adolescent voice as he briefed her on the Zion Shower Protocol:
"Each resident is permitted five minutes of shower water per day," he had told her during her tour of the Academy's facilities, while perched atop the counter in this very bathroom. "You can set your default temperature, and change it whenever you like. You'll be issued a new sponge and cleanser monthly, but if you lose them or run out, you'll have to buy new ones." He had waggled his eyebrows ominously at her, and she'd had to bite her bottom lip to keep from laughing at his swaggering attitude. "Oh, and you activate the shower by palming the keypad. Got it?"
The warning beep of one minute left broke through her reverie; she quickly finished swiping her back and let the steaming water cascade through her hair and over her body for the remaining seconds.
"If you close your eyes," Sphinx had told her on her first day of training, as they were leaving the showers and heading for the kitchens together, "it almost feels like hot summer rain."
The water shut off and Sorcha forced her heavy eyelids open. Seven minutes before she had to be in the kitchens - no time to dawdle. She toweled herself dry, pulled on the ragged clothes, and carefully stowed her other belongings back in the cubby, then forced her tired legs into a jog. Maybe her exhaustion would finally overcome the nightmare tonight. Maybe.
Sorcha flung open the back door to the kitchen just as the 1700 hour chime began to ring. Perfect timing. She allowed herself a small, satisfied smile, and ran her callused fingers through her hair before grabbing a ragged apron from a hook just inside the door.
"There you are!" Mongoose cried from behind a tall stack of plates that he had just picked up to carry into the mess. "We were wondering what had happened to you!" Sorcha's grin grew wider - she couldn't even see his curly black head of hair over the stack of chipped tin disks.
"We went to Bean's for drinks," Sphinx explained, tying her long brown hair into a ponytail and rolling up her sleeves. "We were hoping you'd come along."
"I'm sorry I missed it," Sorcha replied, honestly feeling a slight twinge of regret twist her empty stomach. No… no, I made the right choice. Have to get stronger... "I ended up going through the obstacle course again."
"What?!" yelped Nova, a tall, bleach-blonde boy whose stick-thinness mirrored Sorcha's but was quite obviously the result of a growth spurt. The knife he was using to cut the long, thin green beans - the Zion Botany Team's most successful vegetable so far - hung suspended precariously above his thumb as he regarded her with wide eyes. "After today's workout, you went through again?" He turned back to his work. "Man, you're cracked."
"Can it, Nova," snapped Sphinx, who, at a month shy of eighteen and five years out of the Matrix, was the ranking student at the Academy. She turned back to Sorcha and rolled her eyes as though to say, Ignore him. "Did it go all right?"
"I guess so," Sorcha stammered back, not wanting to confess her slowness, her weakness. Sphinx offered a sympathetic smile and opened her mouth to say more… but suddenly, Sugar appeared behind her, cradling a huge metal pot in her massively muscled arms.
"Here you go, sweetheart," she boomed, slamming the pot onto the stove. "You know the drill - the usual broth, plus whatever the farm's coughed up today." She pointed a long, gnarled finger at Nova and his pile of vegetables. "And you!" Sugar exclaimed, shifting her arm so that it now pointed at Sorcha. "My star breadmaker! You know what to do."
"Yes ma'am," Sorcha replied, grinning, and headed back towards the ovens. Mongoose staggered past her and whispered loudly,
"Don't worry - I don't think you're cracked."
"Thanks, Goose," she whispered back, staring after him fondly. Mongoose held the record for Youngest Unplugged - at the age of ten. Since then, he had been a strange cross between the Fleet's baby and its mascot, and now, at fourteen, he was becoming an incorrigible gossip as well. There was little doubt that the entire Academy would know that Sorcha had willingly put herself through The Gauntlet a second time in one day by the time the lights winked out tonight.
She sighed and tried to push the disappointment to the back of her mind. Baking hlaf was always a welcome break from training - a time for making after having spent the day learning new ways to destroy. Maybe I should spend more time with the others, she mused as she dipped a large mug into the vat of synthetic flour. But there was so much to learn, so much that demanded her undivided focus. For the first time, she had a purpose - a true, compelling purpose - and the urgency of it burned in her blood. Just barely seventeen, she had less than a year to absorb everything the Academy could teach her, before joining a crew. Less than a year. Sphinx had had five.
Sorcha shook her red head firmly as she spread the flour out on the countertop. Making friends was a luxury she couldn't afford. This was war.
The hlaf had come out well, again - she could tell from the sweet, hot smell drifting up from beneath the towels covering the tray. Grabbing two padded oven mits, Sorcha carefully lifted it and walked slowly into the dull roar of the mess hall. Mongoose trotted next to her, waving to those he knew, which was everyone, and depositing one loaf on each table. And all the while, he kept up a running commentary on the latest rumors and news.
"See that guy with the mohawk? Over there? That's Leopard - he just joined the Icarus a few months ago. His times sucked, but he was a whiz at shooting anything. And there's Cygnus - she's the captain of the Avenger. She used to be the youngest captain until Niobe took the Logos. And there…"
Sorcha nodded and smiled at the members of each table, and nodded and smiled at Mongoose, until they reached the other side of the mess. And then she looked up, as she did every night, at the list of ships currently docked in Zion. The list was changing constantly - red names flickering digitally in and out - but she only cared about one. It hadn't appeared for a month, and she knew it wouldn't for another four weeks… but she couldn't keep from hoping.
Hammer, Icarus, Avenger, Vigilant… and then suddenly, her throat constricted in a tight gasp.
"What?" Mongoose demanded, cut-off in mid-sentence. "What's the matter?"
"Nebudchanezzar," she whispered, staring at the glowing display in a mixture of disbelief and dread.
"The Neb's home?" Mongoose asked. "That's weird - usually Morpheus stays out as long as he can, and they were just here a month ago, and…"
A dull roaring filled Sorcha's ears, drowning out the rest of his chatter. Goose was right - the Neb shouldn't be here. Something was wrong. Trinity…
She looked down at her tray - it was empty. She shoved it into Mongoose's arms. "Goose - please… take that back to the kitchen for me…"
"Where are you going?" he demanded. "Aren't you going to eat? Sorcha, you have to eat -"
"I'll eat!" she shouted over her shoulder, already swiftly walking towards the main entrance. "I just need to… to do…" But he never heard what it was that she needed to do, because suddenly she was running, running flat out through the hall, dodging tables as though they were obstacles in the Gauntlet.
Mongoose stared down at the tray, then again at her rapidly diminishing figure. "Maybe she is cracked…"
Sorcha raced out of the mess to the nearest computer cluster, oblivious to the stares she was attracting. She threw herself into a chair and logged in with shaking hands, muttering a particularly nasty obscenity when her fingers mistyped her password the first time. She pulled up the Injured list and scrolled down swiftly, praying not to see any familiar names.
D, H, K, N… Please, please let her be okay… S, T…
"Oh, God," she whispered suddenly, every muscle freezing. "No." There on the list, the last name beginning with "T," was Trinity. A wave of nausea crashed through her, and the screen went blurry. But Sorcha scrubbed madly at her eyes and forced herself to peer through the haze. Where was she? If it was the infirmary, it could be really bad, but if not…
She scrolled over, and the explosive sigh of relief emptied her lungs. Not the infirmary. Thank God! Could be her room, then… And without a moment's hesitation, she logged out, leapt from the chair, and ran for the elevator.
Too damn slow, too damn slow… she tapped her foot impatiently against the metal floor. What could possibly have happened? Something in the Matrix, or outside? Would she even be allowed to see her? The uncertainty made her chest tighten painfully. Hurry up! she screamed, ignoring the stares that her fidgeting was earning from the other passengers.
Finally, the doors slid open - with agonizing slowness! - and she raced into the circular corridor, not even feeling the tightness in her churning legs. Please… please be okay… please!
She knew where Trinity's room was; it was a sort of pilgrimage when all else failed during a sleepless night. She flew around a tight bend, and when the passageway evened out, she could see her finish line. On the left, a few doors down… and Switch was leaning against the wall outside with her arms crossed, looking as though she'd fallen asleep standing up.
As Sorcha skidded to a halt in front of Trinity's door, Switch slowly opened bleary eyes. "I was wondering when you were going to show up," she said, yawning. Sorcha couldn't talk, she was panting so hard, and as Switch watched her try to catch her breath, her eyes narrowed.
"You look like I feel," she said sharply, taking in Sorcha's thin frame and the dark bags under her green eyes. "Have you taken it into your fuzzy head to stop eating?"
"No," Sorcha wheezed in reply. "I can't… sleep. Nightmare. Same one, every… night."
Switch leaned her head back against the wall and continued to look at her appraisingly, but all she said was, "Ahh."
"What happened?" Sorcha half-asked, half-wailed, once she was only slightly breathless. "What's wrong with Trinity?"
Switch sighed heavily and passed a hand over her face. "She has pneumonia," she replied quietly. "It's… a story. D'you want to see her?"
"Can I?" Sorcha asked. "I'll be silent, I swear!"
Switch pushed open the door, which had been resting ajar, and gestured for Sorcha to look inside. The room was longer than it was narrow, with a desk and chair immediately to the right of the door. At its far end, it tapered into an arched alcove, into which Trinity had chosen to place her bed. Just before the bed, on the left side, a small table held a black medic's bag.
Morpheus and someone else - the doctor, Sorcha presumed - stood at the foot of the bed, conferring quietly. Trinity lay motionless under a ragged blanket… and beside her head stood a battered IV stand. A slender tube ran from the clear bag under the cover. Sorcha sucked in a breath and quickly withdrew, and Switch shut the door again.
"An IV? She's on an IV?" Sorcha's eyes were wide and wild. "How bad is it? Why isn't she in the infirmary?"
Switch held up a hand, trying to placate her. "It's not that serious. Mostly, she just needs rest and fluids. But she fought Morpheus hard about coming home, and I think he got the doc to knock her out for her own good. She collapsed this morning in the Core… that's when he stopped listening to her and got Dozer to bring us in.
"But what happened?" Sorcha asked again, mimicking Switch's James Dean posture against the wall. "How did she get so sick?"
Switch shook her head tiredly. "First, she just got the sniffles. It happens often, the Neb is so damn cold - usually you just take off a few shifts, get a little extra sleep and they go away. But this time…" She closed her eyes, and Sorcha realized then just how exhausted Switch was. Drained - a husk of her usual, sarcastic self. "The Hammer got cornered by some squiddies along one of the mainlines, and they did some serious damage. We got the SOS and came to the rescue, but the ship was out in the open and couldn't move, and the damn sentinels just kept coming." She shuddered, eyes still closed. "We couldn't use an EMP, either, because the Hammer had to be online for repairs… if the Osiris hadn't come as well, we would've lost Maggie and her boys for sure. As it was, it still took her crew twenty-four hours to get the generator going again. Trinity was at a gun turret the whole time, and she was hacking up a lung by the time we could get out of there."
"God," Sorcha whispered, a strange mixture of pride and pity swelling behind her eyes.
"We were going to lie low for a while, but then Tank got a call from Sparks, with the news that Ghost's hardline had just been cut by an Agent, and that two more were on the way." Switch opened her eyes again and regarded Sorcha quizzically. "Do you know about Trinity and Ghost?"
"N…no," Sorcha stammered in reply, feeling panic balloon in her throat. Trinity AND Ghost?
Switch laughed sharply. "Not like that, kid - don't worry." She winked, and Sorcha swallowed hard. Could Switch… know? But how would she?
"Trinity and Ghost were unplugged on the same day," Switch explained. "They're like brother and sister. Or like best friends who grew up living next door to each other. So Trinity, despite her nasty cough, had to be the one to go in after Ghost. Morpheus tried to stop her, but she wouldn't take no for an answer." Switch's eyes slammed shut again. "Well, by the time she and Niobe got him out of there, Trinity was in a bad way. Dozer tried to give her something for the cough, but it didn't work - she was up all night. And she collapsed this morning. So here we are."
"Blue sky above," Sorcha breathed. "That is a story." She shook her head in admiration. "I hope Morpheus is keeping you here for a few days, at least."
"We head back out tomorrow," she replied wearily. "But without Trinity - Morpheus wants her fully recovered." Her tired gray eyes met Sorcha's tired green ones. "Will you do a favor for me?" she asked. "For us?" When the girl nodded, Switch grinned slightly. "I know that training is tough, but… will you keep an eye on Trinity? Try to get her to rest?"
Sorcha nodded again, barely managing to disguise the thrill that surged beneath her skin at Switch's news. Trinity would be here! In Zion! For more than just a few days! And it would be her job to take care of her, to see that she recovered. This is my chance, she thought. My chance to do what the Oracle told me I must do.
"Of course," she said out loud, struggling to keep her voice even. "I'll be glad to." Switch smirked at her, and Sorcha looked away quickly, feeling her face heat up. "Uh," she muttered. "Uh, I bet you want some solid food. Dinner will just be finishing in the mess…" Taking Switch's arm, Sorcha led her back towards the elevator. But as they rounded the bend, she looked back over her shoulder towards Trinity's door. Rest, Trinity. Please, just get well.
The skyline was jagged, a giant's broken teeth protruding forlornly from its decayed mouth. The cold wind howled in her ears, brutally lashing her hair across her forehead and cheeks. Everything was gray, save for the black ruins beyond and the black sky above. Nothing moved.
"Trinity?" she called. The wind tore her voice from raw, chapped lips. She tried again, louder. "Trinity!" And even louder, louder until her throat stung with the force of her cry. "TRINITY!"
Nothing.
She turned in a slow circle, and her shuffling feet made dust rise from the lifeless land. Where was everyone? Trinity and Switch and Morpheus and Tank and Dozer and Cypher and Apoc and Mouse… Chi and Mongoose and Sphinx and even Nova… where were they? Why was she here, all alone? Why didn't she know how to get back? Back underground, where it was safe… back to Zion…
Panic engulfed her. Here, out in the open, she was easy prey for the machines - the Runners and Trackers and Squiddies with their beady red eyes…
"TRINITY! MORPHEUS! SWITCH!" she shouted hoarsely. "Someone! Anyone! Please!"
She spun wildly in a circle - never safe - looking for signs of life, of death. The world blurred before her eyes, spun faster and faster and faster…
Sorcha sat upright in bed with a strangled cry, breathing heavily, sweat pouring down her face in tiny rivulets. Not again! The world was still spinning, and all she could do was wait it out - wait for the dizziness, the debilitating weakness, to pass.
There would be no more sleep tonight - there never was, after the nightmare. She glanced over at small digital display along the wall at the foot of her bed. 0300. Four hours - better than the night before, at least.
Sorcha fumbled for the lightswitch next to her bed and thumbed it on with still trembling fingers. "At least now I have time to study for that math test," she muttered, walking slowly to her computer and starting it up. It was one thing to have concepts downloaded into your brain, and entirely another to apply those concepts to problems you'd never seen before. She had meant to study last night, but she'd been so profoundly tired.
Rubbing at her grainy eyes, wishing she dared fall back to sleep, Sorcha cued up some practice problems. But instead of being able to focus in on them as usual, she found herself distracted. Would Trinity be off the IV today? How was she going to be able to keep her promise to Switch? And then a thought laced with panic - would Trinity even remember who she was?
"That doesn't matter," Sorcha muttered. "She just needs to get better." She thought back to the glimpse she'd had of Trinity last night, lying so pale and thin beneath her blanket, helplessly hooked up to the saline drip…
And then suddenly, she knew what she could do. A wide grin curved her lips, and she felt energy rush into cells of her body, pushing out the fatigue, the soreness.
"Perfect," she whispered at the glowing screen, and dutifully moved on to the next problem.
Zion was beginning to stir. In the mess hall of the Academy, the morning meal was about to be served. A few people walked the corridors, but most were still in their rooms, preparing themselves for their day's work.
This time, Sorcha had the elevator to herself. She clutched the warm, towel-wrapped bundle to her chest, feeling her mouth water at its sweet scent. She alternated between grinning widely and whistling tunelessly, unable to make up her mind. And when the elevator finally ground to a halt, she very nearly skipped into the passageway.
Restraining herself, she briskly navigated the bends and twists, pausing only when the familiar door came in sight. She peered at its small, high window through narrowed eyes. Was the light on inside?
Yes! It was! Buoyed by her elation, she covered the remaining distance in a jog, and set the bundle down in front of the threshold. Taking a deep breath, she tensed the muscles in her legs, knocked firmly on the door, and raced back the way she had come, until she was around the first bend. Laughing silently, she pressed herself against the wall and strained to hear whether her offering was accepted.
Silence… and then the slow creak of a door opening. A few rustling sounds, followed by a metallic clink. Sorcha waited for a few moments, then carefully looked around the corner. Trinity's door was closed, but the towel-wrapped hlaf was gone. Made with twice the synthetic honey, it would be nourishing and sweet and strengthening.
Feeling more alert, more confident than she had since being unplugged, she spun on her heel and headed towards her own breakfast.
Chapter 4 >