Fic: The Devil's Dues [6/10]
The Devil's Dues
Fandom(s): Tron: Legacy
Characters: Sam Flynn, Tron/Rinzler
Rating: T
Disclaimer: All television shows, movies, books, and other copyrighted material referred to in this work, and the characters, settings, and events thereof, are the properties of their respective owners. As this work is an interpretation of the original material and not for-profit, it constitutes fair use. Reference to real persons, places, or events are made in a fictional context, and are not intended to be libelous, defamatory, or in any way factual.
Summary:
It wasn't so much that hope died, but that Sam realized it had only been wishful thinking all along.
For Winzler, and the prompt (misinterpreted):
The world ends. Nuclear wasteland, Mad Max style, etc. One day Sam comes out of the computer and everything is gone. The power will run out soon/the arcade is in danger/etc so Sam hurriedly brings a recovering Tron(zler) out to save him.
Tron is OK at first but slowly reverts to Rinzler under the stress of survival - and Sam eventually begins to lose it as well. In the end we’re left with 2 bugfuck crazy survivalist murdermachines roaming the wasteland together.
Notes:
Oh. My. God. This chapter seriously kicked my butt. And Winzler kicked me until I kicked this chapter out. So thank her and all the other folk who kept flinging inspiring smileys at me.
Boy, this has been a tough month for the fic and in RL! But I feel a whole lot of satisfied with finally getting it out, and while things don't look like they're gonna be that much smoother afterwards, hopefully I won't hit as big a writer's block as before. :)
Part 6
Alec was a tall man, brown hair just beginning to gray at the temples, and carried himself like someone who was used to building things with his own hands. The two who followed him into the courtyard needed little more than a nod from him before they were quick to meet the hotel residents halfway. They all carried packs with them - filled with scavenged supplies from their tours - and contents were rapidly being redistributed as Sam shuffled up behind Danny.
" - Sanders' team probably won't be back 'till dusk, though I told them not to stay out that long if they could help it. Nelson's men have been pretty active lately and - who's that?"
"Hm - ?" Danny turned, then motioned Sam over when he hovered just outside of polite conversational range. "Speaking of that gang ... Sam, meet Alec. Alec, Sam and his friend there - Tron, you said? - helped chase off some of those hooligans just this afternoon - "
"Chase off?" Alec echoed, face tight with consternation before he leveled a glare upon Sam that had him stepping back in surprise, hands up and brows arched.
"Hey, you're welcome, buddy," he couldn't resist griping, at first more bewildered than truly antagonized. Even before Alec turned to Danny with an even deeper scowl, though, he could tell that the conversation was on its way down a steep slope.
"Why did they need to be 'chased off' in the first place?" Alec growled, and even if the doctor didn't look particularly perturbed by the open confrontation, Sam could feel his hackles rise just on principle.
"Hey man, what's the big deal - "
"What's going on?" Tron walked over with that uncanny sense he had for trouble, and after a mere glance to take in their tense stances, the security program squared his own shoulders, hands loose at his sides.
"Nothing - Tron, why don't you take Eric inside and - " Danny began with a placating gesture before the boy, bouncing along in Tron's wake, piped out an innocent, "Hi, Alec!" and promptly launched into an excited and exquisitely detailed description of the elephant lurking in the corner.
" - and then Tron zoomed in and did something I couldn't even see and bam the guy went right down and -"
"Ah, thank you, Eric, you make a mighty fine story-teller," the doctor hummed as he slid an arm nonchalantly around the boy's shoulders and tucked him close, conveniently muffling the boy's babbling against his jacket and sleeve.
"Danny," Alec said with a slow, deliberate tone into the pause. "Why were Nelson's men here?"
Danny shrugged, and he might have missed his calling as an actor for all the bland innocence he projected. "Oh, you know, the usual - supplies, raiding, smelled the food, came circling like the pack of hyenas that they are ... "
"So why were these jokers chasing them off?" Alec motioned between Tron and Sam, and even before Sam could do more than bristle, the man was barrelling on, "I told you to just stay out of sight and let them take what they wanted - "
Sam made a face. "What? Why would you do that?"
"I know, I know - " Danny huffed, equanimity finally slipping as he made small motions for Sam to back down.
"Because then they leave after they get what they wanted and nobody gets hurt! We don't need some newcomers waltzing in and making us all a big fat target - " Alec rounded on him.
Fortunately - or unfortunately - Sam had more than enough experience standing up to people attempting to loom over him, literally or metaphorically. "Hey, at least I know you don't let bullies walk all over you or they just keep coming back!" he retorted.
Alec flushed, and Sam was just beginning to rock forward when Eric managed to eel out of the doctor's grip and suddenly exploded, "They were gonna steal Ma's food!"
Sam was not the only one who jumped. The boy was all but vibrating with a fury that was disquieting to see in someone so small. "They were gonna steal it, she spent all morning making it, and it's not fair - !"
Alec's jaw tightened, eyes narrowing. "This isn't about fairness but about survival - "
Predictably, the five-year-old didn't give a fig about semantics. " - no! No, I don't wanna hide anymore, I don't wanna see Ma cry, and Tron fought them off so we don't need you anymore!" he concluded bewilderingly before whirling about and fleeing for the hotel's interior.
"Eric!" Danny reached out instinctively before making a sound as if to chastise himself. When Alec moved to follow, the doctor poked the man in the shoulder with a bony finger. "Never mind," he sighed in frustration, "he's in one of those moods again."
"Moods," Sam deadpanned, still struggling to navigate all the strange undercurrents of the last five minutes. As far as he could tell, Eric's moods were the least of their problems here.
"The boy's had his whole world turned inside-out just a few months ago," the doctor grunted. "He's had the occasional outbursts like that, and I don't blame him. After he calms a bit, I'll try talking to him. It happened earlier ... he ran out yelling before anyone knew what was happening, and of course, Xiao Yen panicked and ran out after him. Pretty soon, everything was a mess. We were lucky to have Sam and Tron happen by when they did."
"Lucky?" Alec's attention refocused upon them, and Sam could feel his chin lifting automatically in a stubborn tilt. Maybe as the de facto guests, he should be making a bigger effort to help smooth things over, but he had never had the best impulse control in the first place, and it was even harder to play nice after so many weeks where social graces had taken a backseat. "Just where are you from, anyway?"
"From outside SF," Sam bit out. There was a weird moment in which he recalled playing similar games witih the police, and had to blink hard to dispel the ghosts. "Look, man, I don't know what your problem is, but it's not like we were exactly given instructions - what?" he turned irritably at a touch upon his arm, but then straightened at Tron's intent look, angled toward the street, head tilted as if searching for something.
"Danny! Danny!"
Even with that brief warning, Sam jumped at the call, adrenaline spiking at the clear panic beneath the breathless exhaustion. "Sanders?" Alec's brow knit as he strode quickly for the courtyard entrance and the figure trotting up. "Sanders! What's wrong, you weren't supposed to be back until - "
The man stumbled up to them, accepting the brace of Alec's arm as he leaned over, trying to catch his breath. "Alec! Thank god you're back already ... we were in the warehouses - "
Alec blinked, bit off a curse, and demanded, "What's with people doing exactly the opposite of what I say - what happened?"
"There was a collapse ... "
Sam turned when there was a motion next to him, and raised a silent brow of inquiry when he noticed the heavy, expectant look Tron had leveled upon him. As the newcomer began to sketch details of how a portion of the building they had been scavenging in collapsed, trapping two people inside, he battled briefly with his urge to avoid another patented "non-interference" diatribe before girding himself and stepping forward. "Uhm, hey, look, I don't know all the details, but what exactly do you need to get them out? Maybe we can help."
Alec looked predictably put-out by the interruption, but had the grace to keep it to a single glare before giving Sanders a jerky nod. The man glanced between them uncertainly, then shrugged. "Heavy haulers, I guess? Like construction machines - "
Sam's brows rose. "There must be hundreds of those scattered around. Any city's always got construction projects going on, and we could probably figure out the controls - "
"There's nothing nearby, and no time to get something there," the man quickly shook his head. "Maria says Justin's pretty bad off, and the whole area's a mess after the bombing. It'd take hours to find a path to navigate it to the warehouse - "
"Then, I guess we'll just have to lift a truck or SUV that's already in the area ... " Sam suggested, before staring at the expressions around him. "What?"
Alec asked with a murky mix of skepticism and hope, "You know how to jack a car?"
"Uhm ... " There was a queer moment in which Sam fought with an automatic denial, before logic caught up and reminded him that there were hardly any police or laws left to be wary of. "Uh, yeah, I do."
"Good," Alec said decisively, grasping Sam's shoulder and propelling him ahead toward the courtyard's entrance. "You, Tron - you come along too. We'll need every able-bodied person we can get. Sanders, go see what sorts of shovels and ropes we might have here already - chains'll be too heavy for us to haul around by hand until we get a vehicle, but I know a site where we might be able to raid for that sort of stuff near the warehouse ... "
As people scattered, even Danny shuffling off with some mumbled excuse about prepping his medical supplies, Sam peered sideways at a stoic-looking Tron. "So, what was that about?"
Tron's brows rose. "What was what about?"
"You deciding to wake up when there are damsels in distress."
The program's forehead wrinkled in doubt. "But there are men as well as women trapped, and of course, if there is aid required - "
Sam waved away the program's confusion with a long-suffering sigh, the incongruous wish of having a working DVD player and The Princess Bride on hand suddenly popping into his mind before a distinctly lilting, "Sam! Tron!" had them both turning.
Xiao Yen was walking hurriedly up to them, a sullen-looking Eric bundled in her arms. "Oh, good, you are still here! Eric wants to say apology."
"Apology? For what?" Sam asked with a glance toward the boy, who looked like he wanted to say nothing of the sort and somehow managed to curl into an even smaller bundle of glower.
Xiao Yen uttered a soft stream of scolding Chinese that had the boy squirming before she said firmly, "It is impolite. He should not yell at you and run away - it is not respectful."
Sam couldn't help a bit of a squirm himself at all the mention of politesse and respect. "Oh, uh, that's all right, I mean, boys will be boys - " He paused at the look abruptly leveled on him, distantly wondered how such a petite woman could suddenly look so scary, and swallowed. "Right, I'm a role model, gotcha. Uh, yeah, I'm ready for that apology, uhm, whenever you are, I guess."
Eric mumbled something, mostly toward his foster mother's shoulder, before a light jog of her hip had him speaking up more distinctly, "'m sorry I yelled!"
"And ... ?" Xiao Yen guided, her tone growing coaxing.
"An' ... an' I won't do it anymore, an' I'll listen to the adults when they've got something to say an'-here-this's-for-you - " he ended in a rush as he thrust a wad of unrecognizable fabric that had been sandwiched between them toward Sam.
Sam bemusedly accepted the thing, and after a bit of fumbling, was left staring at a plaid, fleece-lined bomber hat, complete with earflaps. It took a moment before he managed to unglue his tongue enough to prompt, "What ... ?"
"I said he should give something to you. Because giving gift make everyone feel better, and it will be cold soon, so ... "
Sam had never really taken to the "words of wisdom" that people liked to stick in inspirational calendars. After all, if it really was that easy, the world would have been in much better shape than it was. But maybe it was different when it came from a mother-figure, because as Eric unfurled to hand Tron his share of the gift-giving, the boy really did look less curmudgeony, and even waited with a hopeful air as the program sorted out his item.
Or, rather, items. It turned out Tron had received a faded black baseball cap with the Sinclair rainbow logo embroidered on it and a hideously bright, green and purple banded scarf.
"He got two things 'cause his hat don't cover his ears," Eric anxiously explained, clapping his hands over his own ears in illustration.
"No, no, that's all right ... " Sam protested weakly, glancing between the smiling faces of Eric and Xiao Yen and the politely confused one of Tron's, then tugged his new hat over his head with a sigh, trying not to look as if he wished he could shrink his head down between his shoulders. "Like this, Tron, and the scarf you just kinda wrap around your neck - "
"It could become a choking hazard - "
"It's to keep you warm," Sam overrode, bunching the fabric around the program's neck, "and we are being polite. Uhm, shouldn't he really be giving these to Alec there?" he mumbled vaguely in Xiao Yen's direction. "I mean, he was really yelling at the other guy, not us ... "
"Little steps," the woman responded at the same volume with an unsettling air of perspicacity. "We go to Alec after you are back. You are his favorite, so it is easier to give to you first."
Feeling more manipulated than ever, Sam could only give in with a duck of his head and a resigned, "Oh."
San Francisco varied widely between immaculate and utter devestation. It was clear that the city had been a major target, considering the landmarks missing from its skyline and the occasional destruction they passed, but it had not been flattened completely. While rolling past one of its numerous neighborhood parks, his elbow hanging out the window of a maintenance vehicle with a truck-bed filled with equipment and people, Sam could almost believe that they were simply on a pleasant, afternoon outting. A picnic. A weekend visit.
And then there was stuff like the giant concrete pylon collapsed across the street. He called over his shoulder in warning before he turned the wheel to roll over a curb, squeaking past the obstruction.
It wasn't too much longer before they made it to the warehouse in question. It was easy to see why Alec had wanted to keep people away from the district in spite of the draw of supplies; several were visibly leaning, and just two blocks over there was only empty air where the buildings had been flattened altogether. The one at which Sam pulled up to was well on its way to joining its neighbors; half of it had already slumped over, powdered mortar still lingering as a soft gray haze over the site.
Sam couldn't help thinking that the frozen cascades of crumbled brick looked like spilled voxels.
A woman scrambled toward them from where she had been perched within the ruins, and Alec was out of the cab before Sam had pulled to a complete stop. Fresh tears were cutting through the tracks left in the dust smudged on her cheeks, and Alec had to spend the first few breaths trying to calm her down to intelligibility. Finally, as they began to get a steady stream of Spanish going between them, Sam and the others began unloading the truck.
"Justin's pinned beneath something here, near the front," Alec translated when the woman stumbled off through the debris to retake her original post, presumably near the unlucky victim. "It'll be tricky to move things without everything falling down, but I think we can manage it with the truck's help. Jill, though, is stuck on the second floor - it's half gone, and she's backed into the only corner left, and I don't want to move things until I know we're not going to bring everything else down too. Look around and get a feel for the layout, but don't touch anything till I give the go ahead. Got it?" He pinned each of them with a look from beneath his brow, making sure he received a direct acknowledgment from them all before he stalked off, shoulders bunched with tension.
Sam picked his way further into the cracked-open shell of the warehouse, and Tron caught up with him just as he stepped beneath the shadow of the ceiling's remnants. The setting sun scattered through clouds of glittering motes, occasionally swirling like fireflies on some invisible eddy in the air currents. He occasionally caught Tron brushing his arm through them, then turning his hand over to check the palm for hitchhikers. Illogically, the large, echoing space seemed all the more cavernous now that the stray noise from the other rescuers bounced within; they all stepped carefully, as much due to the quixotic air as from caution alone.
There used to be an L-shaped mezzanine along the left and back walls, but now the entire rear was gone, taking part of the side deck with it. All that remained was about a fifteen by thirty foot section of splintered beams and planks before a walled-off office space. Pressed against the partition was a slim, white-lipped woman, eyeing the mezzanine's edge with wild eyes. He waved, trying to project a reassuring expression, and received a stiff, tentative wave back.
"I can reach her," Tron murmured before Sam could even formulate the question.
Sam took a breath, reflexive skepticism on the tip of his tongue as he eyed the gap between floors and the all too obvious lack of a staircase. But then he realized just who exactly was making the claim, and released the air in a loud huff. "So, uh, just how close are your stats in the user world compared to the grid?" he mumbled out of the side of his mouth as he heard footsteps scuffing closer.
"Within the ninety-fifth percentile," Tron responded at the same volume. So, close enough that it didn't make much of a difference.
"Jill? How're you doing?" Alec's voice floated over there shoulders as the man stopped behind them.
"Help me ... please ... " the woman stuttered, voice squeaking with barely controled panic. She looked like the only thing keeping her from a complete breakdown was the fear that it might send her plummeting to the floor.
"It's all right, honey, we'll have you down soon! Just sit tight, all right? Don't move!" Alec responded with gruff assurance as he motioned for them to follow him.
Wincing, Sam asked, "What's the plan?"
"We need to get Justin out ASAP," Alec sighed, grinding the heel of a palm over an eye, "he's bleeding and isn't responding anymore. I think we can manage it in one move without having the rest of the debris falling in and crushing him, but I'm worried about taking out that wall and mezzanine at the same time."
Sam tried to trace the possible path of collapse, and found it difficult to pick out the primary issues in the jumble of wood, steel joints, and bricks. "You sure - ?" he began, before the man interrupted with a hint of his original testiness, "I was a construction foreman. I know how weight falls."
Sam bit his tongue against a reflexive retort at the tone alone, but before he could more than consider what constituted a more acceptable response, Tron inserted smoothly, "So you need to move the woman before the beam - ?"
"There's no 'before', we're moving the beam now if we don't want to lose Justin," Alec concluded grimly, and indeed, the other two men that had come with them were already wrapping chains and rope around a protruding piece. "But if we can get to her at the same time - "
"I can do it."
Alec paused, eyeing Tron warily. Sounding more surprised by the program's rapid assertion than by the claim itself, he asked, "Yeah? What do you need?"
"Nothing," Tron answered with blithe confidence.
Sam could almost see the angry flush starting at the man's collar. "Uh, what he means," he interjected hastily, "is that he's got a lotta experience solo climbing and free-running. He can probably make do with whatever's available."
"Yeah? Well, just remember that a woman's life is on the line, so if you need rope? You better damned well tell me you need the rope instead of trying to play the hot jock, got it?" Alec growled.
Tron straightened his back even more at the open antagonism, putting on his best-security-program-on-the-grid face. "Of course. I don't even know how to play that game."
Sam fought the urge to slap a hand over his face and hastily butted in. "Look, we got the memo, all right? Just give us five minutes and we'll have her down," he concluded without waiting for further responses, quickly tugging Tron away.
"Sam, why are you - "
"All right, spill," Sam overrode in a terse whisper as they hustled back to the mezzanine's remains. "Just how're you gonna do it?"
Tron sighed, as if Sam had scrambled his memory pointers intentionally in order to force him to repeat the obvious. "I'm going to climb."
"Climb what?" Sam hissed incredulously, staring at the crumbled brick facade of the wall; the two foot thick, weathered wood column which supported the near corner of the deck; then the mezzanine itself, which looked like it hovered twenty-plus feet overhead. Whatever the warehouse had been used for, it was obvious that it had been built primarily as a storage space rather than a factory, and had the overhead clearance to hold entire stacks of shipping containers if necessary.
Tron gave Sam a gently exasperated look before he bent down to finger some of the shattered bits of brick strewn about the floor. Satisfied by their texture, he scuffed one sneaker's sole at the floor, testing its grip, before he crouched, gaze focused eerily at mid-space ... and launched himself straight for the wall.
Sam sucked in a sharp breath when Tron made a springing leap that nearly took him halfway up in the first stretch alone, struck out with a foot, and in a two-point rebound between wall and support beam, finally snagged a slender, gritty pipe so slim that Sam hadn't even registered it on his initial inspection. Most likely an electrical conduit, it seemed barely wide enough for Tron's fingertips - and most certainly did not have the fastenings necessary to support the program's full weight when it was brought to bear.
"Tron - !" Sam choked out when the anchoring brackets rattled ominously in the old brick, the entire pipe sagging noticeably.
The program didn't bother wasting breath on a response. The conduit had apparently been intended only as a temporary reprieve anyway, as he braced a foot against the wall and heaved himself upwards, jamming the fingertips of his other hand into an invisible crack overhead. Releasing the pipe just as it began to pull away altogether, he snapped his entire body upwards like a fish leaping from water - and managed to catch one hand upon the edge of the mezzanine with a grunt, drawing a surprised squeak from the stranded woman when his fingers slapped unexpectedly on the wood.
"Christ, you call that climbing?" Sam released a noisy breath, both hands clapped atop his bomber's hat incredulously as the program levered himself up onto the deck itself. Tron had barely gotten his feet under him before the woman was flinging both arms around him, openly sobbing; her fear of the edge temporarily overcome by the hope for a savior.
Sam smirked at the bemused and half-pleading look the program flung him. "I knew you were angling for the chick - " he began before he was interrupted by the distant rumble of the truck's engine turning over. Humor evaporating, he cast a quick glance toward the other party in a vain attempt to gauge their progress before reminding tensely, "They're about ready to start. How're you going to get her down?"
Tron nodded, expression all business once more, and eyed their precarious little island. "I think we'll need that rope after all - " he began when there was a sudden, ominous creak, and the two visibly lurched, dust sifting down between the boards.
Sam's throat seized closed as he stared. The woman's sobs had cut off with a hiccup, all of their eyes wide and breaths held as they waited. "Maybe ... you can just lower her over the side, and I'll try and help her down ... " he proposed in his loudest whisper, as if the vibrations from his voice alone could possibly topple the fragile structure. In hindsight, Tron's energetic approach to reaching the mezzanine might not have been the best one to take.
Tron nodded mutely, and began to try and shuffle Jill and himself over to the edge. The woman whimpered, visibly dragging her heels, and the security program murmured quiet reassurances as he continued coaxing her closer.
"It's all right, I'm right here, just a little more - " Sam tried to chivvy her along too as he positioned himself beneath them. But then he heard the truck's engine rev up, and his heart leaped up into his throat as he called over his shoulder, "Hold on, guys, just give us a minute here!" before looking up once more with hands reaching, half-babbling, "Tron, just give her over, I don't think it's gonna hold - "
Maybe it wasn't the best thing to say; the woman's unintelligible hysterics ratched up another notch, and Tron was beginning to look half-strangled from her grip. "Hey, we're ready!" Alec called from where he had positioned himself between the two rescue efforts. "How much longer are you going to - "
The last supporting post splintered near its base. One floorboard popped loose, forcing Sam to jump back as it clattered down, and the woman shrieked as the mezzanine groaned and shifted.
"Tron!" Sam shouted desperately. "Do it now - !"
Alec cursed, and the man's voice faded as he ran toward the others. "Go, go! It's coming down, pull it, pull it ... !"
Tron's stance slipped. Not due to the steady tilt of the deck, but because of his crazed burden, the woman's feet churning in a hysterical effort to pull back from the disintegrating edge even as the program was trying to bring them forward. His face a mask of frustration and concentration, he was trying to shift her to a less compromising hold so that he could give them some chance of surviving this, but for a single, pristine moment, Sam could all but see what will happen.
The woman will drag Tron down. He will not risk her safety. This was the sole purpose of his existence, and he will recalculate the possibilities again and again and again, even as their choices were being pared down with every heartbeat by the woman's own actions. He will keep searching for that one, ideal solution, until all solutions were out of reach, and in a moment of desperation as black as when he first realized his father was never coming home again, Sam screamed, "Release Rinzler!"
The woman choked and slumped, abruptly silent. Rinzler swept one arm around and heaved ... and her limp body was suddenly sailing through the air, loose-limbed and weirdly graceful.
Sam stumbled back, arms raised reflexively, still too numb yet to parse what had happened, and even the impact of the body which sent him sprawling only served to knock the air from his lungs rather than the wits back into his head.
The mezzanine collapsed. Rinzler ran the length of the last plank even as it sank, pushing off toward the office door, and planted a foot improbably upon the knob. Just before the office section fell too, he used that single bracing point as a launchpad and sprang - body twisting in a dizzying display that Sam had previously witnessed only in Olympic news coverage - clearing the imploding jungle of shattered wood and crushed brick in an astonishing, impossible arc.
Rinzler landed hard enough that the roll intended to help spread the impact left him skidding on knees and elbows. Sam found his breath only long enough to lose it again to hacking coughs, the area once more a gray haze from the latest upset. As Rinzler pushed himself to his feet, Sam dazedly rolled the woman off of him, and a different concern began curdling in his stomach as he checked her over with shaking hands.
It was only when he found her still breathing that he realized it had been dread. He had not considered thoroughly at the time what he might have been exchanging for his friend's life ... and dared not face now whether he would have found that exchange acceptable. "Tr - Rinzler, are you all right?" he asked hoarsely, looking up as he sensed the program walking stiffly over.
Rinzler was visibly favoring his right leg, and there was a sharper hunch to his shoulders than usual. But in the program's current state, Sam trusted that he would receive an unbiased report, and slowly relaxed when Rinzler tilted his head consideringly before giving a short nod; he was still functional.
"God ... " Sam drew a shaky breath in an attempt to steady himself before scooping up the woman. Meeting Rinzler's empty gaze, he said, "We made it, Tron."
Tron blinked, then shook himself, casting a blank look around as if trying to brush off sleep. Sam frowned, wondering if he had to worry if the program had managed to take a glancing blow to the head as well on the way down, when a voice from behind abruptly asked, "What was that?"
Sam's grip slipped and he nearly dropped the woman in the rush of adrenaline. "What - " he gasped, head jerking around to find Alec standing just a few feet away, staring at them. Mouth working uselessly for a moment, his brain only found an appropriate distraction when there came a slight shift and moan from his burden. "Oh, yeah, I think she got knocked out on the way down, must've hit her head or something, should get her back so Danny can take a look and do his doctor thing - " he blurted, the words all but stumbling over themselves as he made to push past.
"Tron." Sam stumbled to a halt at the upheld hand, and for once, there was something other than irritation or tension on the man's face. It was hard to pin down, exactly, what Alec was feeling - hell, the man himself was having a bit of a struggle over it if his grimace was any indication. "That was ... I'd never seen anything like it," he finished roughly, extending a small, dark bundle to the program.
Still looking disoriented, Tron accepted the item with a distant air, straightening it out into the Sinclair cap - lost during his epic leap from the mezzanine, now nearly gray from dust. " ... thank you," he managed rustily, staring at it a moment before he shook himself one more time and finally set it back on his head.
Alec frowned pensively, hesitated, then nodded without saying anything further. Stepping back, he reached for the stirring Jill, and Sam let the man take her, suddenly aware of the various bruises and strains he had acquired from when he had been used as a human cushion. "God, I hope he didn't see you knocking her out - " he mumbled when Alec was out of earshot, rubbing a hand over his face and wincing at the grit that fell into his eyes.
"Didn't see me do what?"
Sam hesitated at the demand, glancing toward the program. Tron had never before inquired as to what had happened while his alter ego was in charge, but it was probably only natural, considering the unusual circumstances - they had not been in direct danger from others, and Sam had not inquired this time before flipping the switch. "You - I think you knocked her out. She was totally hanging all over you and the whole thing was coming down, so - "
"And then I managed to jump with her?" Tron was frowning deeply now, staring at the ruin that used to be the mezzanine. After a handful of months, even the program had a pretty good grasp now of real world physics and was no doubt realizing that the numbers weren't adding up.
"Uhm, no. You, uh, you kinda threw her at me," Sam admitted with a rub of his neck, wincing at a kink. "Think it gave me wiplash. But c'mon, let's get back to the truck, it looks like they're just about done settling the two in the back. I wanna take a look at your knee and ankle - "
But an unexpectedly harsh hold closed around his elbow when he would have passed, and Tron hissed, "Why did you do that?"
"Hey, ow - watch that grip, man," Sam groused, more out of surprise than true ire. "What do you mean why did I do that? The whole place was coming apart on you!"
"I could have worked it out! I've taken higher drops - "
"Maybe, and not with a hundred plus pounds of dead weight hanging off of you and a floor full of shrapnel!" Sam snapped back, temper pricked. "I wasn't gonna let you get buried if having Rinzler's monkey-reflexes would give you that extra edge - "
"I would have made it even without you calling for him - "
"Well excuse me if I didn't want to take the chance, all right?!" Sam spat, resolutely trying not to think about that black moment when he thought Tron might have been lost. "There wasn't a whole lotta time to debate the issue, if you hadn't noticed. I made a command decision, and you're still here to argue with me, so I guess it went all right!"
Tron's expression went rigid, and then he said, low and fierce, "You said I would get to make my own choices now. This was not my choice!"
Sam flushed at the sting of the accusation. What the hell was he supposed to have done? Just stood by and watched them both be crushed by the woman's hysterics? But before he could manage anything coherent, the program was already limping away toward the still-idling truck.
Sam strained air through his teeth as he tried to get a hold of his frustration, conveniently taking the time to put a good ten feet between himself and Tron before stomping after him. With only a tenuous grasp of his anger as he slipped into the driver's seat, he gritted his jaw as Tron fiddled with the radio controls - expression mutinous - and filled the cab with a symphony of white noise and static before he slapped at the program's hand. "Will you cut it out? I told you before, that's not gonna do anyth - "
" - a song, you're the piano man ... sing us a song tonight - "
Sam froze. Even Tron stilled, sensing something momentous, though he still radiated discontent.
" - in the mood for a melody ... And you've got us feelin' - "
It was Billy Joel. Playing on a radio station. A working radio station, which meant a working radio tower, which meant ...
" ... a lot of working electricity," Sam breathed.
The clean room was perfectly cubed, forty-feet by forty-feet by forty-feet. Sam resisted the urge to check it one last time - really, there was nothing to check, and the motion would only betray his nervousness. Other than a fine gridwork of lines set every two feet and the slightly paler shades of walls and ceiling, the chamber was completely featureless ... and would remain so as long as everything went well.
At the corners of his eyes, Quorra was a maddeningly composed presence. His pride wouldn't let him ask if she was really that confident in his programming abilities, or if she was just really that confident, so instead, he focused upon the last occupant of the room and asked, "Ready?"
There was a noticeable hesitation before Tron nodded. "Ready."
Sam eyed his godfather's doppelganger. He didn't think he had ever seen one look tired before, but there seemed to be a distinct lethargy haunting the program's expression and movements - a direct result of artificially throttled resources. It had been Tron's own suggestion that Sam place restrictions on him for the duration of the test, and as weird and disturbing as it was to imagine that he was essentially limiting Tron's brain power, he could think of no good reason at the time to not take such a precaution.
"Alrighty then," Sam exhaled, running out of excuses to delay further. Licking his lips, he took a deep breath and stated as confidently as he could, "Release Rinzler."
The transition was as easy and smooth as flipping a switch. In the space of a heartbeat, all the minimal points of light flicked from a cool, reassuring blue to a deep, baleful orange. All the little tics of expression and personality - of life - vanished. Perfectly still, in the way that only machines - virtual or mechanical - can accomplish, he looked like nothing more than a wax statue; unmoving, emotionless.
Tron hadn't even blinked.
Sam released a pent up breath. "Rinzler?" he called, and rather than reassured, felt virtual goosebumps march up his arms when the head inclined subtly toward him. "Well. All right, then. I ... guess it worked."
Quorra tilted her head, gaze still fixed upon the statue of Tron, expression as disturbingly smooth in its own way as the counterpart she was regarding. "So this is all of Rinzler ... without Tron?"
"I guess - " Sam began, before scraping a hand through his hair with a grimace. "No, I mean - yes, Rinzler's pretty much completely segregated now. There're still some hooks into base classes and functions in order to run him, but everything he needs to be autonomous are just copies I made of the original for testing. Honestly, he's little more than Tron's basic security skills and privileges, a very short priorities list, and a command-run module slapped on top."
"Why do we need to have Rinzler running at all?" Quorra questioned dubiously.
Something which Sam had wrestled with himself. "There're still some things in there I don't understand," he admitted grudgingly, "and I'm pretty much messing with someone's personality here. Dad made it look all easy, flicking code around with a snap of his fingers, but he's had, like, a thousand cycles or whatever to work it out. I wanna make sure I'm not throwing out Tron's humor or something - that thing's so small already it'd be easy to chuck accidentally."
Quorra snickered and Sam felt a little better, until the ISO glanced around and then asked, "Do you hear that?"
Sam looked around too, wondering if this was the beginning of a joke. With more downtime now, he was beginning to learn that she had a distinctly off-beat wit that had not been helped by exposure to his father. "Hear what?" he prompted slowly.
"Exactly. There's no sound."
It took him a second longer, but then he realized what she was getting at - the distinctive purr-growl that had marked all their encounters with Tron's alter-ego was missing. It was as unnervingly quiet inside the room as it had been from the beginning.
Sam's brow wrinkled. "Do you think it was from the - "
She didn't bother waiting for him to finish. All of his thoughts scattered wide when Quorra lunged with a hair-raising warcy, and he flinched back out of pure reflex when the blue-white trail of her disc whipped past his head with what felt like mere centimeters to spare.
"Jesus christ - " As he stumbled for balance, there was a screeching clash of disc weapons that had him reaching reflexively for his own before he realized with a cold rush what was happening.
Rinzler was defending himself. He was fighting back in spite of the processing limitations, and Sam didn't think Quorra was pulling her punches - at least, not by much. Sam jarred one knee painfully as he rushed to slap his hand to the floor, and he may not have had the same panache as his father yet, but it got the job done all the same.
It took only a twist of thoughts for a pulse of light to outline the tiles beneath Rinzler's feet, just before a coherent column of blue light shot toward the ceiling, enclosing the program completely. Quorra's intended blow scraped across the lightwall in a flash of white before she fell back into a ready crouch, face a mask of fierce concentration; not at all apologetic about the heart attack she had nearly given Sam for the sake of a test.
Through the lightwall's watery-smooth interface, he could see the silhouette of Rinzler tilting his head back to consider the boundaries of his new prison, and then the shadow of an arm rose in preparation for a strike from within.
"Stop!" Sam shouted, and the silhouette froze. "Stand down!"
It was only marginally reassuring to see Rinzler relaxing into a neutral pose without hesitation; at least Sam now knew there was nothing wrong with the program's acceptance of commands. But he couldn't shake the uncomfortable feeling that he had fallen into a fairy tale of genies and bottles - the ones where he had to make sure he covered every possible angle and ambiguity, lest the genie exact a grisly revenge for its imprisonment and forced servitude.