Chapter 8

Alan drummed his fingers impatiently on his desktop as he waited for Tron to complete compiling. When that was finished, he'd run a quick scan for glitches, then-

The phone rang. Alan snatched it up, knowing only one person knew he was here. "Lora?"

"Alan!" Her voice sounded desperate. "Something is wrong! I think Yori is being hacked!"

There were so many of them. And each was equipped with a pointed, pincer-like appendage on its underside. They undulated as they scrambled over Yori, using the pincer to pierce her uniform and deliver a sharp, painful sting to the delicate circuitry underneath. Individually, the stings would be tolerable – but hundreds, thousands at a time made Yori writhe and scream in pain. She felt like all her circuits were frying as she frantically batted at them. Dozens of them derezzed under a single swat of her palm, but they were seemingly replaced by hundreds more. They were on her face now, clawing under her helmet, seeking access to her mouth, her nose, her eyes. Yori felt her legs growing weak and she sank to the Grid, curling into a ball, trying desperately not to lose consciousness. Another minute and she knew she would derez.

"Shit!" Alan's fingers flew over his keyboard, hoping to abort the compile and restore Tron to his previous version. Too late. Seconds that felt like hours passed, until at last the recompile completed. No time to run a test scan. Alan rebooted his program and pushed him back into the network. He hoped to God they weren't going to lose both Yori and Tron.

The Grid was getting darker. At least that's how it seemed to Yori, barely clinging to existence as the gridbugs continued swarming over her twitching form. Would she become one with her User when she derezzed, Yori wondered dully, or merely wink into non-existence? Strangely, she thought she could feel her User's presence, stronger than she ever had before. Was she urging her to resist … or release?

"Come on. Come on!" Alan muttered, staring at the strings of code rolling over his screen. Whatever this was, he wanted Tron to kick its ass.

Yori felt a sort of tingling coursing through her body. Was this what derezzing felt like? It wasn't so bad. She could just relax and let go, become a shower of stars like the young Program she'd tried so hard to save …

"Yori! Don't move!

Tron's voice. At least Yori thought that was Tron; her hearing seemed impaired. But abruptly she felt a scrabbling tide roll over her and an instant later she was … free. Yori raised her head to see the swarm of gridbugs moving at lightning speed toward Tron.

"Run, Tron!" she managed to gasp. But he stood stock still, as firm and unyielding as he had when defending her before. The swarm reached him, flowed up his form, enveloped him. Yori thought she detected a slight twitch as they began to pierce him, feed on the energy flowing through his circuitry, draining him as they had her.

Yori pulled herself to her feet and staggered toward Tron. Only then did he react.

"No! Stay back, Yori!"

She was horrified to see the gridbugs flow into his open mouth as he spoke. He clamped his mouth shut and shook his head madly. She wasn't sure if he were trying to shake the gridbugs off or warn her away. It didn't matter. She had to help him.

"NO!" He shouted at her as she lurched closer. "Stay absolutely still, Yori," he gasped, heedless of the creatures clambering over his lips, down his throat. "They're attracted to movement."

Yori stopped, faced him over a distance that seemed an infinity. She could barely discern the handsome Program beneath the boiling mass of gridbugs. "What can I do?" she sobbed. "How can I help you?"

"You can't." His voice was strained. Weak. "Yori, I know what to do. Alan-One prepared me. You need to stay away from me. I'm going to …"

"What? What are you going to do?" Yori demanded.

Yori could just make out his eyes, glittering amid the mass of gridbugs that covered his face. "I'm going to initiate a power surge," his muffled voice explained.

"Are you crazy? You'll derez!"

His head nodded slightly. "And I'll take these things with me. You'll be safe."

"No!" Her voice was anguished. Unbelievably, considering how he'd been drained, Yori saw Tron's circuitry begin to glow more brightly underneath the swarm. It was changing color, from its usual cool blue to a bright, then blinding, white. She was watching him die. For her.

"Damn, damn, damn, damn!" Alan could see how the battle was going. Tron was losing. He would have to trigger the code that would blow apart his program and whatever was attacking it in one fell swoop. He was going to lose Tron.

There had to be a way out of this. Yori's keen mind whirled as she brought all her cognitive resources to bear on this problem. She had to shield her eyes from her protector, whose brilliant glow hurt her eyes. She was going to lose Tron.

Suddenly she knew what she had to do.

Yori reached up and dragged her helmet from her head, even as she scrambled toward the jagged hole the gridbugs had created in the Grid when they erupted from it. She looked down into the infinite blackness below. Then she began waving her arms wildly.

"Hey! Hey, you miserable little null units! Over here!"

There was a pause in the hum of the creatures, as if they were considering their options. Then, as one body they flowed down Tron's body - and headed back toward Yori. She saw Tron stagger, the white-hot glow surrounding him fluctuating as he fumbled to complete the programming before the gridbugs were out of reach. Too late. They were almost upon Yori, who stood absolutely still next to the Gridhole, except for the arm she waved over her head. Her helmet was in that hand. In the microcycle before the bugs reached her, Yori flung her helmet into the Gridhole. The bugs followed it, streaming through the gap and tumbling into the void, derezzing like millions of twinkling lights as they fell. And then they were gone.

Tron sprang forward, his glow continuing to fade as he crossed the distance between himself and Yori. Before she could react, she was in his arms. His body still felt warm from the near-fatal surge. Without even realizing it, Yori relaxed against him, feeling one of his arms curl around her waist, the other moving to gently stroke the golden mane of hair that tumbled over her shoulders in the absence of her helmet.

"Yori." His voice was as soft, as warm, as his touch.

She lay her cheek against his chest, drawing comfort from the thrum of energy coursing beneath his surface. "Tron," she sighed.

"What the hell just happened?" Alan ran a hand raggedly over his head as he stared at the screen in disbelief. The phone rang, and he fumbled for the receiver as he continued to squint at the unexplainable code before him.

"You did it!" Lora's voice was jubilant. "You're a genius, Alan!"

The programmer felt a warm glow spread through his chest. "I wish I could take the credit," he admitted. "As far as I can tell, all Tron did was slow it down. Then whatever it was just went … poof."

Her laugh was like music in his ear. "Poof. Is that a technical term, Mr. Bradley?"

"It may become one, if things like this keep happening," he responded wryly.

"Well, all I know is that Yori was fragmenting, and now she's stable again."

"She?" Alan couldn't help letting his grin show in his voice.

"Yeah, all right. What can I say? You're a bad influence on me." He knew she was smiling, too.

END