Tron Legacy (6 page)

CASTOR LED SAM AND THE SIREN
to his private table in the massive nightclub.

“Libations! Quickly!” Castor called to a waiter. Then he slid his scarecrowlike physique into the seat beside Sam. Smiling, Castor lifted his top hat and extended his hand.

“Castor, your host,” he said. “Provider of any and all diversions. At your service.”

Sam got right to the point. “I’m looking for Zuse.”

Castor arched an eyebrow. “Indeed. Many are…”

“Where can I find him?”

Castor glanced at the crowd. Everyone was watching. Everyone was listening. All of them pretended they weren’t.

“This, good sir, is a conversation best had behind closed doors,” Castor said, rising. “Perhaps we should adjourn to the private lounge?”

Castor waved his hand, dismissing the Siren. But as Sam was hustled away, he called to her over his shoulder.

“Thank you—” Sam paused, not knowing the Siren’s true name.

“Gem,” she told him. “My name is gem.”

Then, before Sam could say more, Castor hustled him off the platform and through the crowd. They paused when they arrived under the elevated booth that housed the club’s DJs. Castor spoke to them briefly.

“I’m slipping away for a moment, boys,” he said, waving a lazy hand to encompass the club. “Change the scheme. Alter the mood, would you be so kind?”

Castor tapped his cane to slow the music’s beat. The DJs responded. The club darkened. The color scheme changed.

The blue waves of plasma running along the walls now pulsed in a deep purple. Soon the entire building throbbed with a purple glow, both inside and out.

Castor smiled with satisfaction. Then he tapped the floor one last time.

Sam jumped backward when a section of the ground opened. An ornate spiral staircase emerged from the pit. The staircase spun like a drill bit as it shot upward. Finally it stopped.

“Whoa,” Sam whispered.

“designed it myself,” Castor boasted. “Elegant, no?”

MEANWHILE, IN THE CARBON-BLACK OUTLANDS
, Clu had arrived at Kevin’s safe house. It had taken longer than anticipated and he was anxious. Not that he would admit that—ever. He moved onto the veranda and took in the view from Flynn’s mountaintop. Then he strode back inside and scanned the living quarters.

“Cozy,” Clu said.

Right now, his Sentries were searching the compound, eager to find Kevin as quickly as possible.

Clu continued to look around the area, and his gaze landed on the dining room table. He picked up an apple from the fruit bowl and wondered at its purpose. Such strange things in this place. What need did Kevin have for them? His thoughts were interrupted when Jarvis entered. The counselor was flanked by the Black Guard—Clu’s private army—in dark, faceless armor.

“Our Sentries discovered Flynn’s outmoded Light Cycle in the Old City,” Jarvis reported. “I assure you, we traced its energy signature back to this place. But Flynn must have fled before we arrived.”

Clu glanced at his own reflection in a giant mirror, his mind racing back to that moment when Kevin first created him.

“You are Clu,” Flynn had said. “You are to create the perfect system. Together, we’re going to change the world.”

Clu had never disobeyed Kevin’s first command.

It was Flynn who lost his way, Clu thought. Flynn chose flaws over the flawless—the ISOs instead of perfection…

Just then, Clu noticed Flynn’s chessboard. Enraged, he swept it clean.

“Leader,” Jarvis said nervously, “might I direct your attention to the End of Line Club?”

Clu peered through the room’s arched windows. On the distant skyline, Clu noticed that the tower was pulsing with purple light. For the first time that evening, Clu smiled.

MEANWHILE, BACK IN THE CITY
, Sam and Castor were ascending the club’s spiral staircase.

Castor’s private lounge was located high above the End of Line Club’s dance floor. The lounge’s ceiling, floor, and walls were all glass, and the room was bathed in the same purple glow that lit the rest of the club.

“You can’t be too careful,” Castor said. “You’ve caused quite a stir with your arrival. Whispers of revolution are gaining volume. The grid is alight.”

Castor offered Sam a chair. “Zuse has been around since the earliest days of the grid,” he continued. “To survive, he had to mind all the percentages, all the angles.”

“So when do I meet him?” Sam asked.

Castor bowed his head. “You just did.”

Sam blinked. He hadn’t seen that coming. “You’re Zuse?”

“After the Purge, I needed to reinvent myself,” Zuse explained. “Self preservation, you understand. Now, what can I do for you?”

“I need to get to the Portal,” Sam said.

Zuse pointed his cane at a light shining on the horizon. “The spire to the east, as I’m sure you’re aware. It’s quite a journey. Beyond the far reaches of the Outlands and across the Sea of Simulation.”

“Then you can help me?” Sam asked.

“Of course,” Zuse replied. “But first, tell me. Have you seen…him?”

Sam knew Zuse was asking about his dad, but he said nothing.

After a moment, Zuse nodded. “You’re a man who understands the value of information. I should expect no less from a Flynn. At least tell me who sent you to me.”

“Her name’s Quorra,” Sam said. “She said she knew you a long time ago.”

“Indeed she did,” Zuse said. “Many cycles ago. It was a different time. But let’s not relive the past. Let’s worry about your future.”

Zuse laid a friendly hand on Sam’s shoulder. He frowned at the ragged poncho. “We’ll need to change your attire,” he said. “And you’ll need a forged disc. And of course you’ll need transport across the Sea of Simulation.”

Zuse spun his cane and laughed. “This is going to be quite the ride!”

For the first time since he’d entered the grid, Sam felt himself relaxing. He reached for the drink that Zuse offered him. But as he did so, he glanced up through the glass skylight. His heart pounded.

Four members of the Black Guard were bearing down toward him on high-tech parachutes!

It’s a trap! Sam realized. He glared at the program across the table. Zuse just shrugged.

“I believed in users once before,” he grimly confessed. “But the game has changed, Son of Flynn.”

Sam had to act quickly. dropping his drink, he ran to the spiral staircase. But the steps were gone! Beneath Sam’s feet, a sea of dancers swayed to the trancelike rhythms.

Just then, the skylight above Sam exploded, fracturing into pixilated shards. A guard came down right on top of him!

The air left Sam’s lungs with a whoosh. As he grappled with his foe, they both tumbled through the open door. Then Sam and the guard plunged toward the dance floor below!

PATRONS SCATTERED WHEN SAM
and the guard slammed onto the top of the long bar. drinks flew and glass shattered. Luckily, Sam turned around during the fall. The guard landed first, absorbing most of the impact. But the armored guard still fought!

Sam snatched a long-necked bottle and bashed the guard over the head. The guard’s helmet shattered, and he derezzed with a sizzle.

As Sam rolled off the bar, more Black Guard soldiers landed on the dance floor. The bouncers drew their discs and fired at the guards. dozens of shots were deflected, but a few unlucky dancers were derezzed by ricochets. The guards fired back as complete chaos erupted.

Apparently undisturbed by all the action, the DJs simply sped up the beat. But no one was dancing. Freaked-out programs stampeded for the exit. Other terrified programs huddled against the walls or dived under tables.

One voice rang out above all the chaotic noise. “resist!”

It was Bartik. The Anarchist was rallying his troops. They pulled their weapons free, and more deadly discs began crisscrossing the crowded club.

Within moments, a guard was derezzed. His fellow guards closed ranks and advanced. From behind the bar, Sam was about to cry out a warning, but it was too late.

With ruthless efficiency the guards eliminated Bartik’s gang. Now only the leader remained.

A guard stepped forward and hurled his disc. Bartik grabbed an attractive young program and used her for a shield. She derezzed with a scream. Then two discs struck the Anarchist at the same time. Bartik burst into a flurry of bouncing cubes.

Time to go, Sam decided. Crouching low, he started moving toward the nearest exit. Then he heard a thump and looked up.

Zuse stood on the bar, staring down at Sam and cackling. He pointed his cane, and Sam was pinned in a spotlight beam.

“Behold the Son of Flynn!” Zuse shouted. “Behold the son of our maker!”

Like heat-seeking missiles, Black Guard moved in for the kill. Any hapless program that got in their way was ruthlessly derezzed.

As Sam once again made a move for the exit, a member of the Black Guard tossed his disc. The aim was true. The disc’s gleaming edge was about to kill Sam when—

KEL-LACK!

Another disc expertly deflected the first. Then it bounced off the DJ booth and smoothly returned to its owner.

It was Quorra! With graceful ease, she caught her disc, then strode into the center of the room. Immediately, she deflected another shot. With a perfectly aimed ricochet, she derezzed the Black Guard who’d almost killed Sam.

Zuse danced along the top of the bar, grooving on the DJ’s sound. Quorra shot him an accusing look. Zuse responded with a mad laugh.

Joining Quorra, Sam deflected a disc aimed at her back. He wanted to thank her, but there was no time.

Quorra plowed through the guards, taking them out one by one. Her moves were graceful and elegant. Quorra used her baton defensively and derezzed opponents only if forced to. She clearly had experience with this sort of thing.

Sam’s style of fighting was much rawer. Using his disc, he eliminated any guard that got in his way. But his anger made him reckless—a weakness in battle. Fortunately, the exit was now in sight.

Suddenly, from out of nowhere, a guard lunged for him. The guard raised his disc like a battle-ax. At the last moment, Quorra jumped between Sam and the descending disc. The razor-sharp edge cut through her upraised arm. In a burst of blue energy, her arm was severed.

No! Sam derezzed the guard with a quick slash of his disc. Then he lifted Quorra. Her eyes were fluttering. A strange glow suffused the stump of her arm.

Behind Sam, a disc bounced off the wall. He looked up. A half-dozen Black Guardsmen were closing in on him! Behind them, Zuse kept up his crazy dancing.

Sam waited for the end.

But the end didn’t come…

Blue lightning did.

Like an airborne power surge, the electricity crackled through the club. Programs screamed as sparks exploded from the walls and floor. Then, eerily, the lightning collected itself, forming a whirling plasma cloud. With a flash of raw power, it shorted out all the purple lights—and knocked out every last Black Guardsman. Their armor clattered as the dark, hulking programs hit the floor.

A familiar hand touched Sam’s shoulder.

“Stay with me,” his father said.

When the surviving programs saw the face of Sam’s dad, they began to murmur. Every last one of them recognized their creator. They cleared a path for Kevin, allowing him to pass.

Sam followed his father out of the club, carrying Quorra in his arms. His dad held open the doors of the glass elevator and Sam moved inside quickly.

But back in the club, several of the Black Guard were already recovering. One stumbled to his feet. As Kevin stepped into the elevator, the guard fired a grappling hook. With a clank, the hook snagged the disc on Kevin’s back!

A split second before the elevator doors shut, the guard yanked the cord. Kevin’s disc flew into the guard’s hands.

Unaware of what had just happened, Sam hit the button and the elevator began to descend. It was only then that Kevin reached back and realized his disc was gone. The loss sent him staggering into the corner, speechless.

Back in the club, another guard fired a grenade at the elevator. The explosion blew the doors off and cut the cable. The elevator began to drop! Sam punched every button in sight, but the car only picked up speed!

“Hello!” Sam yelled. “A little help here!”

The sound of his son’s cry brought Kevin back to life. With one lift of his hand, a control panel appeared in the glass wall of the car. Kevin’s fingers flew across a crystalline keypad.

Sam looked down at Quorra in his arms. She was unconscious. Her arm stump continued to bleed energy.

Flynn’s actions weren’t helping. If anything, the elevator was plunging faster, despite the man’s frantic efforts.

Holding Quorra close, Sam braced for impact.