The Lesser Evil
Flood: Mayk, I need you to take a call for me. It's the General, and apparently it's "terribly urgent," and so forth. I really can't be bothered right now, so go find out what he wants, hm? There's a dear.
Operator: The General's holographic broadcast is due to pop up somewhere in that area. Nothing on my screen so far.
Operator: Oh, there he is.
Holographic Projection: My scouts have intercepted a message from Zion hovercraft "Ardeshir"--mention of an "emergency uplink" Zion has configured. Seems to be related to a concern they have of the Machines compromising the security of their broadcast control database. I trust you will know how to act on this information.
Operator: An emergency uplink, huh? Zion must really be sweating it. Let's go bend Flood's ear.
Flood: Oh yes, very well; the General pulls some random message out of the ether, and suddenly I'm responsible for it, hm? He's not getting out of this scot-free, though. Ardeshir, Ardeshir... Ah, there it is. Here's how we're going to play this, operative. The General will be ordered to disarm that hovercraft with a squid squad. Meanwhile, you'll track down their crew member Zion Selective Phage, and let her know that she can tell you where the uplink is, or have her ship ripped apart. We could get the information out of their black box, anyway, so it's no skin off my teeth if she decides to be obstinate. If you want a good laugh, tell her this is really all for her own benefit.
Operator: Sometimes I can't tell if Flood is being nice, or being mean; probably safer to assume he's being mean. That's where Zion Selective Phage is supposed to be. I'm showing reds in there, as expected.
Zion Network Hacker: You Bastards!
Operator: There's our huckleberry. She's probably not gonna feel like talking with the rest of her crew still around. Better make them sit in the corner.
Zion Gunman: No! They're here, too!
Operator: All clear. Give her the good news.
Zion Selective Phage: Huh. I thought something was off when those Sentinels stopped short of splitting our hull open. You're right; they could pry the information out of our flight recorder, given time--time you may have, but we don't. The Machines are already moving in on the uplink. I need our operator to relay that to Zion Command. That makes you the lesser of two evils. Spitz, show the squids the uplink coordinates. They'll let you go. ... Do it anyway. Right.
Operator: I'm hearing that we're getting the coordinates, but it sounds like time is short.
Zion Selective Phage: Just get those things off my ship.
Flood: All right, operative. You can just stay out of the way now, while my brilliant plan unfolds. What? No. Look, go chatter to Malphas if you must. He's monitoring the situation.
Operator: I'm scanning our programs in there. No sign of trouble. But what about that Zion uplink? Sounds like the Machines were going to put it out of commission. Although why we care about that, I still don't know.
Nightmare: I don't like that reading on monitor 2...
Persephone: My husband uses his people like pawns on a board. To sacrifice one is nothing to him.
Malphas: Mm... We've sent Beirn to the uplink. Zion needs it in order to save their broadcast control data from the Machines; without it, they will have severe problems coordinating their operatives in the Matrix, and this new war will soon end. That would not be in our interests; thus, we offer Zion this small assistance.
Nightmare: Lord Malphas, he has disabled the Machine Agent. Zion's data has reached the uplink.
Malphas: Ah, excellent.
Nightmare: Excuse me.
Nightmare: I think we managed to cover it.
Persephone: It is a foolish game.
Computer: Dens: 127.17 Comp: 3171 Var: 0.34 Derv: +7.81
Computer: Loc: 99703 2413 63427 Fac: 0.55 0.73 1 HR: 213 Temp: 105 sub: 123 Ox: 99.5%
Flood: Don't think we've gone soft on the cave-dwellers, Mayk. We're simply managing their affairs for our benefit. The Zionites are such a convenient target for the Machines, after all. The Merovingian, I believe, has his own words of wisdom to pass along. Try to remember what he tells you; it saves me time.
Operator: That's where you'll find the boss-man.
Beirn: Hey...uh...you. So... You know, I'm getting pretty good at this Agent-slaying business, if I do say so myself. Ah, you should'a seen me in there today; poor starched sap didn't know what hit'im.
Beirn: I know Persephone worries about me when I'm out there doin' my thing. It's touching, really. She's...you know...quite a woman. ... Hey, who's serving the drinks around here?
Succubus: Yeah, it's, like, really dry in here, ya know?
Succubus: God! These heels are killing me.
Succubus: It's a power balance, but the equation isn't a simple one-to-one relationship. The Machines are an inherent factor, while those from Zion are, essentially, interlopers. All other factors being equal--particularly without the free radical element of "The One"--this inevitably leads to imbalance in favor of the established party.
Club Guard: Wish they had squids in here. I don't mean those commando things, I mean all the eyes and metal legs everywhere... That would be killer.
Club Guard: When's the real action start?
Club Guard: You tellin' me the General did something useful?
The Merovingian: Oh, Bonjour, Mayk. You know, something struck me as odd about today's affair: It was too easy. Of course, of course, we are good at what we do, but no, there is something else... The Machines. Have you noticed? Yes, they press Zion back, but it is not like the last time. Well, never mind, mon ami, I will mull it over. Go enjoy yourself, eh? You've done well.
The Merovingian: Non, not one more word about work!
Flood: Easy? Naturally he thinks so; that's a credit to how effortlessly I handle these problems. Everyone assumes that it's easy when they see me conducting our business with such panache. They don't see the countless hours of study, of inner conflict... Yes, yes, operative--you've performed competently, for once. You know your place; I'll say that much for you. Now go fritter away your paycheck while I steer this ship of ours.
((and that's all folks))
