Chapter Text
The council chamber of Zion was carved into black rock. Functional. Circular. Stone and steel, arc lamps glowing like distant stars against rough walls. There were no thrones here. Only truth and its cost.
Captain Soren stood before the semicircle of elders, jaw clenched, posture rigid. His voice was hoarse from recounting the events. But they were still asking questions. Commander Jason Lock sat off to the side, arms folded. His expression? Impatience barely masked by discipline.
“We are not here to debate visions,” Lock said coldly. “We are here to determine whether Captain Soren violated operational protocol and risked his ship to save a destroyed one without waiting for support crews. Based on what?”
Soren didn’t flinch. “I acted on an emergency transmission. The Nebuchadnezzar was compromised. I could help them. So I did.”
Lock leaned forward. “You docked the Vigilant at a damaged hovercraft while squids were still active in the tunnel systems.”
“I had no choice.”
“You had every choice,” Lock snapped. “You had no orders.”
From his seat at the council’s centre, Councillor Hamann raised his hand. The room quieted.
“Captain,” she said gently, “perhaps you could help us understand. You’ve mentioned anomalies in the Matrix stream. Things your crew had never seen before.”
Soren’s brow tightened. “Yes, sir.”
“Do you still believe those events were prophetic?” A pause.
“I don’t know what I believe,” Soren said slowly. “But I can tell you what I saw.” He drew in a breath.
“I saw a man bend the Matrix around himself. Not dodge it. Not fight it. Bend it. I saw the code restructured in real-time to react to him. I saw an Agent destroyed. Not outmanoeuvred. Destroyed.”
One of the younger council members shifted uneasily. Another leaned forward, intrigued. Hamann gave a slight nod.
“You also said this man, Neo, was unknown to your crew before this mission?”
Soren nodded. “I knew the name. Morpheus freed him. Rumours said he believed this was the One. Trinity was always quiet about it.”
Commander Lock scoffed. “Morpheus believes everything is prophecy.”
Soren didn’t take the bait.
“What about the losses?” Lock pressed. “Switch. Apoc. Mouse. And Morpheus himself, nearly taken. You want to call that a success?”
“No,” Soren said. “I want to call it war. And in war, I measure victory differently.”
He stepped closer to the middle of the chamber, voice rising just enough.
“Those agents weren’t operating like they used to. They were faster. More coordinated. The Matrix itself was different."
“How so?” asked Councillor Zeph, her tone skeptical but not dismissive.
“Reactive. Nervous. Like the system knew it was under threat and couldn’t contain it.”
Lock muttered, “You’re anthropomorphising code.”
Soren turned sharply. “Then explain how a man with three weeks of training fought an Agent, dodged bullets, survived a helicopter crash, rescued Morpheus, and lived. Go ahead. Use math.”
Silence.
Councillor Hamann leaned back, his fingers folded.
“And what do you suggest we do with this information, Captain?”
Soren’s voice dropped low. “I think we watch him. I think we prepare. Because if what I saw was real, then our war just changed. And the Matrix knows it.”
Lock stood abruptly. “We are not going to base military strategy on visions and metaphors.”
“No,” Hamann said calmly. “But we would be fools not to listen. Thank you, Captain, you may go.”
Soren turned to leave.
As he reached the stone archway, Hamann called out softly, “Captain?” He paused.
“Do you believe he’s the One?” A beat.
“I believe something began that moment,” Soren said without turning. “Something even the Matrix couldn’t stop.”
Then he walked into the shadows, the door hissing shut behind him. The council sat in silence. Above them, the lights flickered once. And deep in Zion’s heart, something ancient stirred.