Fic: Nightvision

[krypticfactor]

Title: Nightvision
Author: crystalshard
Characters: Krypton, OCs. Guest appearances by Clu and Zuse.
Rating: PG-13
Warnings: Racial prejudice, mild fridge horror.
Disclaimer: I do not own the rights to Tron, Tron: Legacy or anything associated with the franchise. It belongs to Disney. No money is being made from this story.
Summary: While Kade sleeps, Krypton remembers his life with his first lover in a Tron City that was slowly becoming more hostile to ISOs. Betaed by brightdreamer and Kafers, all remaining mistakes are my own fault.



"Think . . . I can try to shut down again," Kade said, and Krypton could hear the lag of a low charge. Reaching between them, he tangled his fingers with Kade's, locking their hands palm to palm. He might have held back from the circuit contact, and would again, but he couldn't not touch Kade somehow.

"You do that," he said softly. "I'll be here."

Watching as Kade fell into peaceful recharge, Krypton felt his processor being bombarded with cross-referenced memories and the worries that went with them.

What do you think you're doing, ISO? He's barely rezzed, no experience. You had to explain circuits to him.

I never expected to react to him like that. I don't . . . I haven't meshed so easily with someone since . . .

Since him.

* * *

Krypton stared in fascination at the cluster of programs seated at the lines of consoles that lay in neat rows across the room. On the terminal displays, lights glittered in rows and columns, rectangular controls that blinked to life at a touch and winked out again; elegant sine waves and square waves; graphical representations of data packets; scrolling numbers that revealed intriguing patterns as the programs manipulated them. "So this is Stats?"

"This is Statistics," his guide – Olla, her name was – confirmed. She'd been introduced as the shift leader for Stats by Krypton's ISO mentor. He'd made Krypton known to the serene, white-haired program before leaving to take his other charges to their assigned places.

His friend Cei was going to the Arena, a post which Krypton halfway envied. The lightcycle editor had been thrilled when she'd found out, despite knowing that ISOs were banned from actually taking part. It certainly sounded more exciting than Stats, which was the area he'd been assigned to when his abilities had been analyzed and his talent for encryption/decryption had been officially recorded. Privately, he suspected it was because Stats was understaffed, a theory borne out by the number of inactive desks that broke up the otherwise tidy pattern of the room.

"So where am I supposed to sit?" Krypton asked, eyeing the desks dubiously. As if in reply, one program stood up silently and exited the room.

"There," Olla said calmly.

The console lit under his touch, and Olla gave him a quick tutorial on the various functions. Then she told him where to find the workload assigned to him, and left him to it.

"She's strictly coded, huh?" Krypton whispered to the program beside him. The Stats analyst was intent on his work, wavy dark hair brushing his shoulders as he glanced between screens, but he looked up when Krypton spoke. Krypton was startled – most programs had pale eyes, or dark ones. This program, though, could almost have been an ISO with his circuit-bright blue eyes.

"She keeps all our data evenly distributed; she has to be," he whispered back. Krypton caught a faint smile on the program's lips before it disappeared, and grinned back mischievously.

"Consoles 100101, 100110, there is a lag in your response time," Olla stated from across the room.

Oh. That was them. Outwardly chastised, Krypton bent to his work, but grinned as he did so.

After a while, he dared whisper, "My name's Krypton."

There was a pause, long enough that Krypton thought that the other wasn't going to answer. "Lisrel."

* * *

Krypton finished with the last data log just as the timer clicked over and the chime sounded. He gave up his seat to the next-shift stats program quickly enough that he only earned a raised eyebrow from Olla, and joined Lisrel and the rest of the row as they filed quietly out of the room.

Once outside the building, the programs relaxed, laughing and joking among themselves, the humor something Krypton couldn't quite catch. There were references to things he didn't understand, in-jokes that he hadn't been there for, and Krypton suddenly felt as new as he had when emerging from the Sea.

Lisrel looked back, and he must have seen some of Krypton's confusion because suddenly he was making his way through the crowd to the young ISO, smiling and bright-eyed. Krypton noticed, irrelevantly, that Lisrel was only slightly taller than he was. "Hey Krypton – some of us were thinking of going to Hexadecimal tonight." At Krypton's continued look of confusion, he elaborated, "Hexadecimal is a club. You go there to dance, drink energy, listen to music, have fun."

Slowly, Krypton's smile broke through the bewilderment. "That sounds good."

* * *

It wasn't at all what he'd expected. Arjian music was liquid, frequently ethereal, easy on the ears. This, though – the thump of the beat demanded attention, and the dancing was nothing he'd ever seen before. And while he'd drunk filtered energy before this, he'd never seen it in such combinations or presented with such enthusiasm by the tiny, mischievous bartender. It was utterly alien.

He loved it.

"No, no, like this," scolded Seris, her dark eyes laughing as she turned him around and positioned him properly yet again. "By the User, you're clumsier than Lisrel was."

Seris, a friend of Lisrel's, had dragged him out onto the dance floor in order to teach him 'how to dance like a Basic', and he'd thought things had been going reasonably well until this particular piece of footwork. "Lisrel fell over a lot too?" he asked, half in relief and half in shared laughter. There was no malice in her smile, just good-natured teasing. Among the things that he'd learned in Arjia had been how to listen for the disc-edge under seemingly kind words, and there was none of that here. Lisrel and Seris and the rest seemed . . . not simpler, but more direct.

"Oh, all the time," Seris replied cheerfully. "Try it again." The cycling, colorful lights reflected off her short crop of white hair as she relaxed into the proper starting position, and Krypton mirrored her. This time, he managed the step, and Seris beamed with pride. "Good." She ruffled his hair, making the bleached blond tufts stick up even more as Krypton mock-scowled at her.

"May I have this dance?" asked a familiar voice, and Krypton turned to see Lisrel standing behind him, grinning.

He didn't have a chance to respond before Seris clapped them both on the shoulder. "You boys enjoy yourselves. I'm going to see what Petra managed to mix for us this time."

Krypton watched her go, then looked back at Lisrel with a slightly nervous laugh. "Sure."

Lisrel smiled and reached out for his hand. Then they were dancing together, spinning, stepping, sliding, and Krypton remembered every new step he'd been taught. There was an electric tingle when their hands joined, a pleasant hum that was new to him. There had been no such shocks with Seris, and Krypton would have wondered why if he hadn't been concentrating so much on the dancing.

Then Lisrel moved in a way he hadn't been taught, and Krypton ended up tripping over Lisrel's extended leg, right into his new friend's torso. And if their hands touching had been a tingle, the feeling when exposed clothing circuits made contact was a definite shock. Judging by Lisrel's expression, the feeling was as unexpected for him as it was for Krypton.

"Oops!" Lisrel said, a little breathlessly, arms coming up to support Krypton. "Guess that one came out of the Outlands for you, huh? Sorry, it's a new step. Seris must not have learned it yet."

The melody flattened out to a bass beat and a sigh, and they disentangled themselves. For a moment, they stared at each other.

"Hey, how's our new recruit doing?" The deep voice was edged with laughter, and made both Krypton and Lisrel jump. They turned to see two programs that Krypton had been introduced to earlier, both part of the Stats group that had the same shift as him. One, the owner of the deep voice, was a tall, bulky program called Shandik who looked as if he should be Security instead of Stats. The other was an equally tall, if much slimmer, female program who looked like she'd been rezzed with a smile on her face. Her name was Ake, he'd learned.

"Pretty good," Lisrel replied, finding his composure first. "He kept up with me, anyway. Up until the new step."

"Oh, is that so?" Ake grinned down at the two dancers. "Well, I'm impressed. Trying to keep up with Lisrel's dancing is difficult even without his constant updates. Come on, Krypton. Want a slightly less high-processing dance partner?" Under her words, the music was shifting into a new form, slightly slower and less demanding.

"And Lisrel, you can teach me that new move," Shandik added. "Then I'm claiming the next dance with young Krypton here."

Krypton and Lisrel exchanged half-amused, half-rueful glances, and allowed themselves to be swept away by their new partners.

* * *

After a while, he laughingly waved off the next program who wanted to dance and squeezed through the crowd to the bar. Saris was there, drinking some kind of pink and orange concoction that swirled together but never merged as she tipped her glass up.

"Hey Kryp, come try this!" she called. Krypton slid into the empty seat beside her, and she poured him another churning glass of the energy mix from the pitcher beside her. He eyed it dubiously for a moment, then sipped.

The taste exploded across his senses, and his eyes widened. He wasn't sure he liked the flavor, but he did appreciate the kick of energy that wound him up higher and made him feel that he could dance all night. It stayed with him for a few moments, and then faded.

The next sip wasn't such a shock, but it did leave his steadily rebuilding energy reserve a fraction higher than it had been before. He smiled over at Seris, who was watching him in delight. "Wow," he said experimentally.

"Yes," she agreed, grinning, movements a little jerky, as if she was trying to move too fast and getting caught up in system lag. "I think it needs a little red to cut the taste, though." She made a face and turned back to the bartender while Krypton returned his attention to his own drink.

"Hey, you an ISO?"

Krypton blinked and turned to the speaker, a wiry Basic in the blue of general systems maintenance. "Sure."

The other program grinned, and there was the edge of threat that he hadn't seen among his fellow Stats programs. "Hey boys, we got an ISO here!"

Two others approached, and Krypton slowly set his glass aside. Then the bartender leaned over the bar next to Krypton and scowled at them. "Clear off, Rolin. ISOs are allowed in here, you know that."

"We weren't gonna hurt him, Petra," Rolin complained, shooting a narrow-eyed look at her.

"Out," Petra said emphatically. "You and your friends have had your share of energy, so out. I won't have you harassing my customers."

Rolin still glared, but then Seris slid off her chair to stand next to Krypton, and Shandik stepped into place on his other side. With the support of his friends on either side – and the reassurance of Shandik's bulk – Krypton lifted his chin and glared at the would-be harassers. Sullenly, Rolin shuffled away, trailed by his two associates.

Petra sighed. "Sorry about that," she said conversationally to Krypton. Then she moved on down the bar to attend to another customer, leaving Krypton even more confused. Shandik patted his shoulder and left as well, to be replaced by Lisrel as Seris got back onto her chair and tried the newly amended energy in her pitcher.

"Saw the confrontation from across the dance floor," Lisrel explained, scowling after the retreating Rolin. "Some programs have a problem with ISOs. Ignore them. They'll learn better, sooner or later."

Krypton nodded, reassured by Lisrel's confidence. Then Seris demanded that Lisrel try her new blend of energy, and the incident was forgotten.

* * *

The Grid had never been this bright, this clear, this sharp, and Krypton was unable to stop grinning as he and his new friends emerged from the bar. One by one, they peeled off with waves and shouts of farewell, until it was just Krypton and Lisrel.

"Do you know where you're going?" Lisrel asked, a touch of concern on his face that Krypton noted and then disregarded. The world was far too enthralling for facial expressions to mean much.

"Yeah, I know," Krypton said, nodding firmly. "Know where I am, where I'm going, how to get there." The surplus of energy was making his processes work faster, delivering words from origin to output before he could divert them for review. "Know how to dance. Seris taught me." He grinned up at Lisrel, slightly lopsidedly.

Lisrel laughed, his smile a mirror of Krypton's. "Yes, she did. And then I danced with you." He elbowed Krypton in the side, and Krypton, his reflexes sped up faster than he was used to, nearly tripped over again. Two hands gripped his waist, stopping him from falling, pulling him upright again. Krypton stared into bright blue eyes that were as wide and wondering as his own.

"You're not clumsy at all," Krypton said, half accusingly.

Lisrel laughed breathlessly, and the energy that they'd both consumed seemed to hum at the point where his hands met Krypton's sides. Blue and white circuits flared alike. Then Lisrel let go, and Krypton felt as if something he'd never noticed was suddenly missing.

"Come on, Kryp. I'll walk you home."

Nodding reluctantly, Krypton turned in the direction of his newly assigned apartment and started walking. He was hyperaware of Lisrel by his side, keeping pace with him, and wondered what would happen if he reached out and closed that gap.

He didn't, though.

* * *

Krypton swung his leg over the rear of the two-seater lightcycle – Lisrel's favorite vehicle, as he'd proudly informed Krypton a few millicycles ago when he'd first offered to take Krypton to and from work. The arrangement suited Krypton very well; he could wake up later and still make it to Stats' central processing quicker than if he'd walked.

And, of course, he got to spend some time with Lisrel.

"I booked my lightcycle training yesterday," he told Lisrel, smiling as he leaned forward so that the other program could hear him through the helmet.

"Does that mean I won't be taking you to work anymore?" Lisrel asked, audible disappointment in his voice as he pushed forward and threw the bike into motion.

Behind him, Krypton grinned. "Well, I wouldn't want to wear out my new baton, would I?" he asked teasingly, and knew he'd said the right thing as Lisrel relaxed under Krypton's grip on his waist.

"True." The playfulness that Krypton loved to hear was back in Lisrel's voice. "Can't have you going back to get if fixed less than a centicycle after you get it. Security would pout at you."

The image of one of the dour Security programs pulling such an expression hit Krypton's sense of humor, and he laughed without restraint as the wind whipped past their rapidly moving 'cycle.

Abruptly, the light-strips on the buildings they were passing began to flash. Krypton's laughter cut out as abruptly as if someone had thrown a switch, and he heard Lisrel curse the Users as the 'cycle sped up.

"Lis, what's wrong?"

"Gridbug attack," Lisrel called back, body tense under Krypton's hold. "They'll be broadcasting the attack vectors in a few . . ."

Lisrel was interrupted by an echoing female voice, broadcasting from multiple locations. "Warning. Warning. Gridbug incursion. Please evacuate all indicated areas. Approach vectors are as follows . . ."

The two listened, and Lisrel swore again. "Every route's blocked off. How the glitch are we going to get clear?" There was fear under the words, and Krypton looked around. He knew this sector, even if Lisrel didn't. And while Lisrel was right about the roads, there were other options . . .

"Lis, stop the 'cycle," he said confidently.

Lisrel shook his head. "If we stop, the 'bugs will catch us up!"

"Lis, trust me. I can get us out of here."

They continued for a moment, and then Lisrel jammed the brakes on. The wheels screamed as they skidded to a stop, throwing Krypton forward against his friend, their helmets clunking together as inertia argued against momentum and lost.

It took a moment for Krypton to recalibrate, but then he swung his leg to the side and slid off the broad back of Lisrel's lightcycle. Lisrel derezzed the lightcycle in his wake, following him quickly as he headed inside one of the buildings.

Krypton gave Lisrel no chance to ask questions, keeping moving as he climbed two flights of stairs and cut through a lightrunner repair garage. Somewhere in the distance, there was a chittering noise overlaid by the slow crash of falling buildings, and Krypton realized with horror that the noises belonged to the Gridbugs. It was his first real encounter with the monsters he'd been warned about back in Arjia, and he couldn't stop his memory from calling up everything he'd been told about what they could do to data – program and architecture alike.

Across the street, another shortcut through a half-used memory block, and suddenly they were faced with a far wider road than the one they'd left. At the far end, huge shapes moved among crumbling structures as smaller ones boiled along the roads and up the sides of still-intact buildings, the flash and flare of discs near the skittering shapes indicating a Security team in the vanguard. Fleeing before them in a wave were the programs who must have been caught in the sector when the alarms went off, those on foot scrambling for the Security-flown Recognizers that were touching down to evacuate them. Lisrel didn't need prompting to rezz his lightcycle back up and race past Security at speeds slightly faster than Krypton had been taught were safe.

Once they'd reached a zone where the lights stayed steady, Lisrel coasted to a stop and let his hands fall from the 'cycle's handlebars. "Krypton, you've got more courage than sense, but you do keep your head in an emergency," he said, shoulders shaking with half-heard hysterical laughter.

Krypton laughed too, in much the same mode. "Thanks for trusting me to get us out of there," he said against Lisrel's neck.

"It was a statistically valid conclusion that you'd know the area," Lisrel told him.

That struck Krypton as funny, too.

* * *

"Cei!"

Krypton waved to the ISO woman as she looked around the mild-energy supply zone, and her lambent brown eyes crinkled in a smile as she crossed between the randomly placed tables to get to the one he was sitting at. Krypton stood as she approached and hugged her, smiling as she hugged back. They both sat simultaneously, hands linking across the table as naturally as processing.

"I haven't seen you in centicycles, Krypton," she said warmly. "How have you been?"

"Well enough," he replied, grinning. "My friends in Stats go out partying at least once a centicycle, and most of the time I go with them. Wish we could take one of those clubs back to Arjia – it'd really shake them up!"

She laughed, the sound as rich and dark as her skin. "Arjia needs shaking up," she agreed cheerfully. "Too many slow-processing old Alphas who'd prefer to pretend that the rest of the Grid doesn't exist."

"Agreed," Krypton said, squeezing her fingers a little. " I'll take you to Hex some millicycle, if you like. Anyway, how are you? And how's the Arena job?"

"I'm okay," she said, glancing down at the table. "The Arena, though – there are rumors. Rumors that when a combatant loses, the Guard executes them. Most of the programs laugh it off. They tell me that it's archive data, ghost files from back when that actually happened. Tron stopped it, they say. But . . . sometimes programs don't leave, ones I've seen go in."

"Maybe you just weren't looking at the time?" Krypton suggested, feeling a cold chill at the base of his code.

"Maybe," she echoed dubiously. "Anyway, the job's fine. You wouldn't believe what those gamer programs can do to their lightcycles in the game. I had one in the other day that had three broken power feeds and it was still running somehow. Nobody else could figure it out, so they handed it to me. Turned out that the breaks were leaking raw energy directly into the wheels, which actually gave me an idea for a new lightcycle power distribution system. The Security program was glad when I told her why it was draining her so fast."

"If anyone could have figured it out, it would have been you," Krypton told her, remembering the upgrades she'd made to her baton back in Arjia. That thing had almost flown. For some reason, though, she hadn't been allowed to bring it with her.

"I might see if I can find someone to talk to someone at energy processing," she said thoughtfully. "See if they know any more about the baton's energy usage. I'm good with the lightcycles, but the rider side isn't something I've really investigated." Before Krypton could reply to that, she fixed him with a mischievous look. "Enough about me, though. How about you, Krypton? Tell me about your friends."

"They're a nice group," he said, smiling at the shift of topic. "They're fun, too. Seris taught me to dance, and Shandik gave me a much better guided tour of the city core than the ISO who brought us here from Arjia." He paused to let Cei snicker at that. "Ake helped me get my lightcycle training booked . . ."

"About time!"

"Yeah, yeah, I know, you said I should learn back in Arjia. Anyway, friends. Lisrel . . . he was the first one to greet me when I started working in Stats, and he was the one who invited me along to one of their after-shift parties. He really knows how to dance, and he's a great partner, even when he throws me for a loop with something I haven't learned yet. He's got a great sense of humor, too. And he's really well-coded . . ." Without meaning to, Krypton let the sentence drift off, his mind fixed on a stored image of a laughing Lisrel, collar-length black hair thrown back and vivid blue eyes half-closed in merriment.

"Like that, it is?"

Krypton snapped out of his memory to see Cei smirking at him.

"Like what?" he asked, half defensively.

"Oh, nothing. You enjoy yourself, Krypton."

* * *

". . . so, Ake went right up to him and asked him if he could help us. And the Security guy said, "Problem acknowledged. And left!"

Mutters of shock and anger went around the hexagonal table that the Stats programs were sitting at. Krypton, however, frowned in puzzlement. "Don't most of them do that?" he asked. "I went to tell one that there was a lightcycle crash once, and he didn't even say anything to me."

Surprise was on every face as they turned to him. "Security's supposed to flag and acknowledge all problems," Shandik said, frowning. "He shouldn't have done that."

Lisrel put a comforting arm around Krypton's shoulders, and Krypton instinctively leaned into the warmth. Hexadecimal was quiet, for once, the music more of a background thrum than a dance beat, which made for a good opportunity to sit down and communicate. "I'm sure it was an accident. Security are really good at handling things like that."

"Even if it wasn't, not all Security are like that," Seris said reassuringly to both Ake and Krypton. "There's this one program, he's partnered with an ISO artist. Plays in the Games sometimes. He's a proper security program, listens when programs tell him things."

"Hey Lis – speaking of listening . . ."

Lisrel groaned. "Ake, are you going to recycle that old one again?"

"Of course! Kryp hasn't heard it yet, after all."

Lisrel sighed, but didn't pull away from Krypton as Ake elaborated on the story. Krypton quickly forgot his unease; his friends were around him, offering extra data to the tale that Ake was telling, and Lisrel was holding him close. Almost without him noticing it, his arm slipped around Lisrel's waist. That familiar tingle hummed between them, and Krypton felt as if he was somehow exactly where he belonged.

Ake, with occasional interjections from Shandik, was just winding up the tale of Lisrel's mishaps as a newly-installed transfer from ENCOM when suddenly a hollow boom overrode all other audio in the vicinity. The noise drowned out Ake's words and momentarily overwhelmed Krypton's ability to hear, the ground shuddering sharply under Krypton's feet and making him feel as if the Grid had fallen out from under him. The table was solidly fixed down, but the half-empty glasses scattered across it were trembling in the wake of that unexpected shake.

Silence descended across the bar for a microcycle.

The pause was broken when a fully armored Security program, disc out and active, opened the door. "This building must be evacuated. Exit in an orderly fashion."

Table by table, the programs stood up and filed out of the club, the nearer ones first. Lisrel's arm had fallen away when he'd stood up, so Krypton, in need of contact, reached out and twined his fingers through Lisrel's as if the other were an ISO. There was no response at first, but then Lisrel's hand curled around Krypton's, carefully out of sight below the table. "What's going on?" Krypton whispered.

"Explosion protocol," Lisrel whispered back. "If a bomb goes off, Security assumes that there is more than one and evacuates the area while they do a full sector sweep."

Krypton nodded, then loosed Lisrel's hand and followed Seris towards the exit in the wake of the previous group. He was about to cross the threshold when a rough hand grabbed his arm.

"Stop."

Krypton, his code feeling as if it wanted to coil in on itself, turned to face the Security program who had held him back. The figure in dark armor and blue circuits was an intimidating presence, his face half-hidden behind the helmet that shielded his eyes. And the Sentry was . . . was scanning him, Krypton realized with a surge of shock. Without asking. Without even informing him that he would be scanned.

"ISO. You will come with me."

"What?" Krypton protested, stunned. "Wait, what do you want me for?" Oh Users . . . do they think I have something to do with the bombing? "I've been with my friends all last millicycle, either here or at Stats Central Processing!"

"You will come with me."

"He's telling the truth!" Krypton barely recognized Lisrel's voice, harsh with static, tension draining his speech of nuance. "He's been with us all millicycle! Right, Shandik?"

"It's true," Shandik confirmed from behind Lisrel, and Krypton wondered how he managed to stay so composed.

The guard hesitated, tilted his head sideways for a moment as if listening to orders, and then let go of Krypton's arm. Krypton took advantage of the moment and scooted out of the door, hurrying to catch up with Seris. Luckily for him, she'd paused when she'd noticed that he wasn't following, despite the other Sentries that were watching impassively from the side of the road and instructing the programs to keep moving.

"Hey, ISO!" Mocking words rang clearly down the street. "How'd you get past Security, terrorist?"

Rage bloomed in Krypton's core, burning out his fear and apprehension. He turned a glare on the two programs who'd been the origin of the shouts, and they laughed as he did so. Just before he could step forward, Lisrel's hand closed over his forearm.

"Kryp, don't. If you get angry, they win. Just walk away. They'll get bored and stop if you don't make yourself a target."

Krypton sucked in as much cooling air as he could managed, then turned as he blew it out on one long breath. As he walked away with his friends, he heard more shouts from behind him.

"Yeah, run away! Knew you didn't have the code for it."

"Hey, it's true! All ISOs are cowards."

Only Lisrel's hand on his arm kept Krypton from turning around.

* * *

"I passed the lightcycle training today," Krypton announced when Lisrel opened the door, grinning up at his friend. He'd been warned that ISO trainees frequently drew extra attention from the instructors, but he'd managed to avoid most of the harassment. Perhaps it was that he already dressed like a Basic, and could at a pinch get away with appearing to be a densely coded program like Tron or Shaddox when no-one was trying to scan him; perhaps it was because he'd kept to doing what the Basics did, and somehow swallowed his commentary on things that he thought repetitive or unnecessary. Either way, the instructor hadn't given him much more than a stern look.

Fortunately, the tests themselves were fully automated, based purely on skill and not where your code came from. He'd had no problem passing, and being handed a lightcycle baton was all the reward he needed for his restraint.

Lisrel grinned back, reaching out to hug Krypton enthusiastically. "That's great! I knew you could do it. Never doubted it."

"A statistically valid prediction?" Krypton teased, snuggling close for a moment before reluctantly letting go.

Lisrel laughed. "Of course. Come on in, I got a bottle of the good stuff in anticipation of your triumph."

"Oh? What did you . . . ah!" The agony was sudden, unexpected, and left Krypton doubled over and gasping in Lisrel's doorway. The first, sharp pain passed, leaving nausea in its wake, his circuits flaring.

Faintly, he could hear Lisrel. "Kryp? Krypton, what's wrong?"

"The Sea," he managed to gasp out. "Something . . . something's wrong. I have to get there."

Turning away, Krypton staggered to the elevator. He was only dimly aware of Lisrel's presence as the other program held him steady and sent the platform to the ground floor, and then lost track of him entirely as he raced into the street and leaped onboard his newly-issued lightcycle.

* * *

Krypton leaned against another ISO, shock draining the energy from him. He didn't know the ISO's name, only that he had white circuits as well. At this moment, the Sea contaminated, all ISOs stood together in their mutual horror. No pretty speeches from Clu or empty promises from Flynn would restore their birthplace. No 'protection' from Tron, who'd failed to protect the Sea, would be able to delete this virus. Their future brothers and sisters had been erased completely.

"Please, everybody, return to your homes," Clu said as, just far enough away so that they couldn't be heard, Flynn and Tron talked together. "On this terrible day, I believe that we all need our friends to stand by us." Clu glanced sideways at the User and the security program, and Krypton wondered why for a moment. But the Admin's suggestion was taking hold; one by one, the ISOs were turning and walking back to the road. Krypton followed, only to jolt to a stop when an unexpected hand gripped his arm.

Blue. Blue circuits, not Security. "Lisrel?"

"Let me take you back to my place, Kryp. I don't think you should be alone this millicycle."

Still too much in pain to object, Krypton nodded. He didn't want to have to concentrate on driving right then. He still wasn't sure how he'd made it here, shock and desperation having blanked the ride from his memory before it could write to disc. "Okay, Lis."

* * *

Back at Lisrel's, Krypton curled into the warm, comforting arm holding him close to Lisrel's side. The nausea had passed now, disappearing with distance as the Stats program had driven them away from the poisoned Sea, but Krypton was still feeling shaky. "The Sea's dead, Lis. Poisoned. How . . . why would anyone do that?"

"I don't know," Lisrel murmured, hand stroking along Krypton's arm in a soothing, repetitive motion. "How are you feeling?"

"I . . . don't know. Numb." Even the usual hum of circuit-to-circuit was dimmed as Krypton's coding tried to block out any extraneous input. He was shivering as if energy-deprived, even though Lisrel had brought out the bottle that they'd been meant to share in triumph and forced him to drink at least a quarter of it.

Lisrel kissed the top of Krypton's head, and the shock of feeling the Sea's pain was eased a little as Krypton's senses woke a little at the touch. "Is there anything I can do?" Lisrel asked gently.

"Touch me?" Krypton asked, voice shaking and staticky. Lisrel could make the pain fade. Lisrel knew him, understood him. His hands began tracing uncertainly over Lisrel's body, and the Basic gasped.

"You're . . . sure?"

"Y-yeah."

Lisrel's lips descended to his own.

* * *

So that was overload. Huh. Krypton rolled onto his back and stared up at Lisrel's ceiling, the Basic beside him so still that Krypton half suspected he'd slipped into recharge.

He'd had other programs tell him about overload – that it simultaneously switched you off entirely and linked you into the Grid on the deepest level, that it was an energy rush unlike any other. True, the energy part had been pretty good, but it hadn't managed to make him forget. The knowledge of what had happened to the Sea had haunted every moment, continually distracting him from Lisrel and what he was doing. Lisrel had managed to overload too – he'd felt it – so he must have been doing something right in return.

"That's weird, you know?" Lisrel mumbled from beside him. As Krypton had guessed, the other program was halfway offline already. "How your circuits disappear?"

"Good weird, or bad weird?" Krypton asked, tensing unconsciously.

"Just weird. Hey, relax." One of Lisrel's hands sneaked out and caressed his cheek. "It's okay. I don't mind."

Krypton relaxed as instructed, and turned on his side to snuggle into Lisrel's embrace.

* * *

Lisrel's bare hand was warm against Krypton's, fingers entwined as they walked into Hexadecimal. It had been Lisrel's suggestion, meant to show prejudiced Basics and friendly programs alike that here were two who still held together after everything that had happened. Well, that, and both of them wanted to see what their friends would make of their new relationship.

"Congratulations!" Shandik bellowed as soon as the pair got within range of their group's usual table.

"We were wondering when you'd get around to pairing off," Seris added, grinning fit to crack her surface render.

"It wasn't as if you were being particularly subtle," Ake said dryly. "Hey, Petra!"

Krypton and Lisrel glanced at each other, amusement winning out, and sat next to each other in the two spaces that Krypton now realized had always been left for them. The bartender, summoned by her name, brought a pitcher of blue-and white swirling energy over to their table and set it down on their table. "About time, boys," she said, smiling. "Hey Krypton, when are you bringing Cei back? I found that contact she asked me for – if she asks, his designation is Jef, and he's one of the programs who works for our supplier."

"Cei? Who's Cei?" Lisrel asked, affecting horror. "You haven't written me out already, have you?"

Krypton laughed. "Cei's my best friend," he said simply. "I brought her here to have some fun a few millis ago."

"Being her to meet us!" Seris demanded, her eyes alight.

"We promise not to traumatize her too much," Ake added.

"Okay, okay," Krypton laughed. "I . . . uhn!"

He blinked unexpected processed energy out of his eyes, bringing up a hand to wipe his face and hair in an attempt to clear the mess from his head. His jacket was soaked as well, as was his shirt. His pants, miraculously, were dry.

"Ooops! Sorry!" apologized the program who'd just spilled his drink all over the ISO. "Wasn't looking where I was going."

Krypton waved acceptance of the apology, more interested in drying his face than embarrassed Basic. Shedding his ruined jacket, he stripped off his shirt and used the dry side to mop his hair and skin. He lowered it to find a fascinated trio staring at him.

"So ISOs really don't have skin circuits?" Shandik asked, awed.

Krypton shrugged. "Actually, we do. Sometimes they're permanently visible, sometimes they only appear under certain circumstances. I'm one of the latter. Of those with permanent circuits, some have full-body ones, others just have facial lights. It depends on the ISO. The only thing that's common to all ISOs, and always permanently visible, is the symbol on our arms." He turned a little so that they could see the white-glowing hexagon-and-arrowhead image on his left arm that marked him as a male ISO.

"I didn't know that," Ake said, her eyes fixed on the symbol and looking as if she wanted to ask a thousand more questions.

"Hey, ISO!" someone shouted from across the bar. "Keep your shirt on – we don't want to see that!"

Petra shouted something back, but Krypton's attention was taken up by Seris. The program was offering her own jacket, and Krypton smiled gratefully as he pulled the concealing fabric over his bare torso and the unmistakable ISO mark.

As it changed hands, the blue faded until it was glowing Krypton's own white.

* * *

"Okay, Kryp, I give in," came a laughing voice from outside his workroom. "What in the name of the User are you doing in there?"

Krypton touched the control on his console that he'd repurposed into a door-opening signal, and the door faded away to reveal a grinning Lisrel. Krypton smiled back, eyes softening as he took in the sight of his dark-haired lover. "I was thinking of something that'd make it easier for me to get into the Arena. I know you said you wanted to go watch Tron compete, so, well . . ." He waved a hand at the 3D form hovering over his desk. Granted, power flows weren't really his speciality, but he'd asked Cei's friend Jef for advice and used his own decoder abilities to figure out the rest. The result was a nearly-completed code mod that would let him mask his natural white circuits with cool Basic blue – and not only that, but alter his signature to that of a Basic. It wouldn't last more than a millicycle, it wouldn't hold up to an active/contact scan, and it'd require extra energy, but it would work well enough for what he intended to do.

Lisrel's reaction, oddly, wasn't the joy he'd hoped for. "You're . . . modifying your own code?" he asked, face tense, trying to smile and failing.

"Yes?" he replied, confused. "It's nothing major, just a code tweak."

Lisrel's face shut down, and he turned to leave.

Still baffled, Krypton called out, "Lis, wait!"

He didn't turn back, but he did answer him. "I can't," he said, voice flat and mechanical. "I can't alter my own code. All I can take are updates from the User, and I can't remember when he last did a general update for Stats. You, though . . . it's so easy for you that you think nothing of it."

Krypton hastily saved and shut down the display before rushing after Lisrel into the main room of their apartment. In the end, Lisrel's desire to go to the Games with him was stronger than his unhappiness, but it was still a good half millicycle before Krypton got around to finishing the render mask.

* * *

The whole thing was worth it, though, when he walked into the Arena with Lisrel and a few of their other friends. Krypton's circuit mask was firmly in place, and none of the others had had any problems with the concept. Seris had even congratulated him on it, wondering aloud why he hadn't done it before.

And Lisrel – Lisrel was practically incandescent, holding his hand and pointing out all the various places in the Arena. ". . . and up there, that's where the combatants will be fighting in the preliminary rounds. Tron's up first game today, something about needing to patrol for dissidents . . ."

Krypton smiled and let Lisrel tell him about everything. It was nice to be able to hold hands with him and not get that look from passing Basics. In fact, it was nice to walk around and not have to fight to be recognized as a program with half the people he met.

Krypton ended up almost at the end of a row – by accident or design, he couldn't tell, but he had no objections to sitting between Ake, who'd claimed the end seat, and Lisrel. Then the stadium noise built from a rumble to a roar, and he followed everyone's gaze to where Clu's personal transport ship was nosing over the upper levels of the Arena.

"My fellow programs!" Clu called, eliciting another massed roar from the programs watching. The sound was amplified so that every program could hear it, the harmonics tuned to minimize distortion. Krypton spared a moment to be impressed by the precision. "Welcome to the Games. Here, we discover the best and most powerful of our combatants, eliminating the weaker ones and leaving us with most efficient programs. This is what I shall do with our System! I will find the best and most efficient ways to run the Grid, and it will be the perfect System!"

The crowd cheered. After a moment, Krypton joined in, camouflaged in the midst of blue and pale green, face reflecting an approval that was the opposite of what he felt.

He sat back in concealed relief as the applause died and Clu declared, "Let the Games commence!" Round One was announced by the neutral female voice that appeared to handle all Arena announcements, and Krypton watched in fascination.

Some got knocked out more quickly than others, stepping back into the same pods that had carried them up to the combat zone and descending out of sight. Krypton was swept up in the cheers of the crowd, the buzz of energy that seemed to fill the air, the rush of hope and expectation that followed every disc throw, the thrill of every flashy stunt and successful hit. The discs seemed to be powered down, doing no more than marking points. He couldn't figure out the scoring, but it didn't matter. Slowly, the combatants were whittled down, each subsequent match going on for longer, until finally there were only two.

FINAL ROUND CURIE : TRON

The Arena reconfigured into a star shape as Lisrel leaned forward in his seat. So did Krypton, barely aware of the roaring crowd except as a thrum of excitement that seemed to seep into his deepest code. Curie was a petite blonde whose agility and speed had made short work of slower, bulkier opponents in prior matches, and she was gripping her disc as if holding tight to it would improve her chances of winning.

Tron, at the other end of the star, had both disc and a baton blade out, and was watching her carefully. He stood relaxed, balanced on the balls of his feet, looking ready to spring in any direction at a moment's notice.

Suddenly, they both leaped, discs flashing fast around the walls as they bounced off the walls. Tron flipped and rolled, deflecting the disc with the blade he still held in his right hand, while Curie flattened herself to the floor to dodge the disc that hissed by overhead. She was smiling when she bounced back to her feet, and Krypton looked back at Tron to see a hint of a smile on that serious face as well.

The match was a blur of speed and gymnastics that made the watching programs gasp and applaud, shouting encouragement to both combatants (if a little louder for Tron). Eventually, thought, Tron managed an incredible midair twist that allowed him to land on Curie's back while she was in mid-jump, and brought them both crashing down to the floor with his knees on her back and his disc humming at the back of her neck.

With an odd look of relief, Curie tapped out, and Tron stepped away and gave her a hand up. "Well played, program. Very well played," he said approvingly, the words broadcast and echoing through the arena. Then he turned to the crowd, smiling honestly this time, accepting the cheering and congratulations from all sides.

"Are you staying for the next one?" Shandik suggested from Lisrel's other side. "Tron won't be playing, but it should be fun."

Krypton exchanged a glance with Lisrel, and nodded. "Sure," he said aloud.

It wasn't long before the arena was reset, and another sixteen players were lifted from the depths of the armory. Krypton was determined to watch more closely this time, and picked a pair in blue and pale green to observe. Everything seemed fairly ordinary, until a sharp ringing noise and a scatter of blue dragged his attention to one of the other chambers. There, on the floor, was a scattered pile of glowing voxels next to a darkened disc.

The crowd howled its approval as Krypton froze, the victorious fighter waving his disc triumphantly as another burst of blue fell to the floor in a second chamber. Blindly, Krypton pushed his way past Ake and headed for the exit, the crowd heedless of his passage. Hearing that programs might be executed after fighting was one thing, but seeing them derez each other was another database entirely.

There was another program in blue leaving just ahead of him, and the momentary relief that he wasn't alone in his horror got him out of the Arena stands and leaning against the outside wall. He heard footsteps behind him, but ignored them. In a sudden panic, he checked his circuit color, worry easing at the proof that he was still solidly blue. He'd been afraid that the stress would have cancelled the masking effect, but it seemed that he'd coded well enough to avoid that problem.

"Kryp?"

Krypton turned towards the familiar, anxious voice to see Lisrel standing not far away. Lisrel strode up to him and pulled him into a hug, apologetic words spilling from his mouth.

"I'm so sorry, Krypton. I never thought they'd do that in this game. I wouldn't have agreed to stay if I'd even suspected that they were going to play a deathmatch. I don't like it either – those could be people I know, some millicycle."

Krypton turned his face into Lisrel's shoulder. "If that's what's going on," he said shakily, "I'm glad that ISOs can't play the Games."

* * *

Hexadecimal had become Krypton and Cei's default meeting place, the ISO-friendly establishment a more comfortable locale than many of the open-area energy sources. Word had got around, somehow, and there was more than one white-circuited program sitting around the club's hexagonal tables now.

"By the way, thanks for giving me Jef's contact details. He really helped with that energy-flow question I had," Krypton said after they'd greeted each other. "How about you – is he answering all your questions?"

Despite the verification that some of the games were back to being fatal, Cei looked better than she had in a while, body language loose and easy. "Yeah, he is," Cei confirmed with a smile. "Jef really knows his energy additives and what they'll do to most programs – Basic or ISO. Oh, and he's an ISO, too! He was one of the first wave that came out of Arjia – he's been here for a few hundred cycles now."

"Oh really?" Krypton grinned. "I thought he was, but it's hard to tell over a video link."

Cei nodded. "He likes lightcycles, too. He's been over to visit a few times, and we've met at Hex once or twice."

The temptation to smirk was too strong to ignore, and Krypton cheerfully gave in.

Cei saw his expression and laughed. "Okay, okay. I like him, and I wouldn't mind being bundled with him for a while. The way you and Lisrel fit together . . ."

"Go for it," he told her. "Being partners is great. You support each other, make each other happy, you know that there's a strength outside of you to lean on and they'll lean on you if they need to. I like Jef, from what I've seen of him. I think you'll pair well."

Plus, there were other benefits . . . Krypton smiled as he thought of some of them. The problems with unsatisfactory overloading were definitely fixed by now.

* * *

The cycles passed, each millicycle much like another. Slowly, though, things began to change.

All ISOs in Tron City were forced to register with the system – not a problem for imports like Krypton, who'd been in the database since he'd arrived, but those who wanted to visit decided against it more often than not.

'Rogue' ISOs, those who hadn't registered, were chased down by security and frequently disappeared – and those who didn't emerged with discs and no memory of what had happened.

Later, signs started appearing, symbolizing that ISOs were banned from this shop, that public area, these bars. There were mutterings of discontent among the ISOs and a few programs who were friendly to them, but they faded as the mutterers were held up as examples of disruptive programs.

Stats, though, seemed immune to the charged currents that ran outside their walls. Inside, Krypton and his fellow ISOs were simply programs, and ones that contributed their fair share of work to the group.

* * *

It wasn't long after the Registration rule had been initiated when Olla pulled Krypton to one side after his shift. Lisrel hung back, out of earshot but plainly waiting for his partner. "Krypton, I know you've just finished a shift, but I've got a new install who needs to be taught what to do. He's got the skills, he just needs to be hooked into the right data. I can't show him, my task list is already full, and Xinor's – he's this shift's supervisor – is as well."

Krypton glanced at Lisrel, who waved understanding and turned to leave. That sorted, Krypton nodded at his shift supervisor. "Okay, I'll do it."

The look of relief on Olla's habitually frowning face made Krypton realize just how much her serenity had eroded over the past few cycles. "You need some downtime, Olla," he said, half-chidingly. "Reboot, clear your caches. We can't afford to have you glitching."

"I'm still functioning," Olla said reprovingly. "I'll take you to Xinor, he'll explain things."

On being introduced to Xinor, Krypton understood why Olla had picked him to help out the new install. Xinor's shift was the one that uploaded and downloaded the completed logs to their various locations; some, especially Security and Portal Control, required encryption. It was specialized, requiring a full working knowledge of how the other shifts operated, and not something that a program as new as he'd been back then would have been able to handle.

The program he was tutoring picked up the parameters with ease, and was competently handling the most complex logs that Krypton could find by the end of a quarter-milli. Just when he'd decided that the program didn't need his help any more, Xinor ghosted over to them both and nodded silently at Krypton.

Krypton stood, and the newly installed program paused long enough to look up and say, "Thank you, Krypton."

"You're welcome," Krypton told him, smiling. It was nice talking to a program with no preconceptions about ISOs. He liked the beta. Maybe this one would escape believing in Clu's propaganda, if he was lucky.

Xinor guided Krypton away from the main hub and towards the master desk where the shift supervisors worked. "Thank you, Krypton. Stats will be on target this millicycle, due to your assistance."

Krypton simply shrugged in acknowledgement, suspecting that the supervisor had more to say.

"Krypton, your decoder/encoder abilities are going to waste on Olla's shift. I don't know why she hasn't suggested you for re-tasking yet – you'd be useful on my team. Your capabilities are far more extensive than most of the programs she has."

"I like being on Olla's shift," Krypton said, carefully neutral. Change shifts? Be working while his friends were at Hexadecimal? Have his free time while they were recharging? True, he'd learn a lot more about using the talents he'd come out of the Sea with, but having to leave his friends behind? Lisrel . . . what is this going to do to us?

"I think you'll like being on my shift, as well. I'm putting you in for a transfer, Krypton."

* * *

"Transferred?" Petra said, surprised, as she mixed Krypton's drink. He'd been gravitating to the milder greens recently, liking both their taste and their effect.

Krypton sighed, leaning on the bar. "Yeah. No asking what I wanted to do, no nothing. Just . . . transferred. It'll be good for improving my preferred function – and to be honest, I was getting bored on my old shift – but I'll miss my friends." He waved a general hand at the bar and its noticeable lack of his usual companions. They'd all gone home to recharge, including Lisrel. His lover had offered to stay, but Krypton, knowing how Lisrel got when he didn't get enough downtime, had told him to go. "I'll get micros with them, at best."

"I understand," Petra said, her unusually green eyes soft. Petra wasn't Flynnware, and she'd told him that her eyes, like the rest of her appearance, were a mirror of her original User. "I'm transferring, too. I'm going to the End of Line. I'll miss my friends here, but Eckert said that anyone who liked ISOs was welcome there."

The low hum of the crowd sharpened near the door, a voice as unwelcome as it was familiar rising over the babble.

"Rolin," Petra murmured. "Better go blue, Kryp."

It was the work of a nano to activate the circuit mask, and Krypton scowled into his drink. "I thought you'd blocked him?" he grumbled.

"I did. The owner let him back in."

Krypton paid strict attention to his glass as Rolin strode up to the bar, and hence nearly fell forward as the program clapped him on the shoulder. Rolin laughed, as did his group. "Sorry, program. Hey, Pet, another drink for this guy as an apology for knocking him over."

Smiling and saying thank you was one of the hardest things Krypton had ever done.

With that sorted, Rolin turned his attention to a blank-looking Petra. "No ISOs tonight, then? Glad to see you're keeping Hexadecimal free of Gridbugs, Pet. Knew you'd come around eventually. ISOs are glitches, no proper directive. They should go back where they came from."

When Krypton got up and left, Rolin didn't even notice.

* * *

"So what exactly happened to you, Jef?" Krypton asked conversationally as he watched another program go up to the front desk of the recompilers' clinic. This one was limping, his leg slowly losing voxels from the deep wound in his calf. He was quickly whisked through to one of the treatment rooms at the back, an assistant coming to support him as he staggered.

"An accident in the filtration labs," Jef said, the tall ISO wincing as he tried to settle his wounded arm comfortably on the simple, curved bench in the clinic's waiting room. Glittering, dark voxels shone in the multiple gashes on his arm, one with part of the debris still caught in it. They hadn't dared pull it out for fear of destabilization. Other, lighter marks marred his face, the only area spared being the stripe where he must have thrown his arm up to shield his visual input. "One of the energy storage vessels got over-pressurized, somehow, and it burst when I was in there checking on it. "

Cei, who was sitting on Jef's other side, frowned. "Aren't there safety protocols in place for that kind of thing?"

"There are," Jef agreed mildly. "And they failed. It was a good thing that it was only one small tank – if it had been one of the bigger ones on the main circuits, we'd have lost an entire sector's worth of power."

Krypton and Cei both winced at that. There had been a couple of energy shortages recently, and several buildings were still running on half power. Losing an entire sector would have been just shy of disastrous.

Suddenly, Krypton's eyes narrowed as he focused in on the program who had just been called through to be treated next. "That one didn't have more than a scrape."

Cei watched as the Basic passed through the rear doors. "Maybe he has internal damage, or major injuries under his jacket," she pointed out.

Krypton shrugged acknowledgement and waited beside his friends with increasing impatience. Another two Basics were called in, both less obviously injured than Jef.

A few micros later, the scraped program emerged again, too quickly to have needed major rewriting and healed of the minor damage that Krypton had spotted earlier.

"That's enough," Krypton growled, standing up. "I'm going to see what kind of priority tree they think they're running."

The program who was handling the patient list, however, was distinctly unhelpful. "ISO Jef is placed correctly on the priority list. Return to your seat."

Fuming, Krypton did as he was instructed and returned to wait. A full eighth of a millicycle passed as they waited, Basics with lesser injuries being passed to the front of the queue as the number of waiting programs dwindled.

"Okay, Atsi, doesn't look like there's any immediate issues out there. I'm going to pause for a hundred micros. Can you blank out my schedule for . . ."

Krypton's head snapped up at the voice, seeing a female program in recompiler green standing by the desk. He didn't think about what he was doing, didn't have time as autonomic code had him standing and going to her side before he could refresh. "My friend's badly hurt and in pain. Please help him."

"Badly hurt?" Her head snapped over to follow Krypton's line of sight, and she frowned. For a moment, Krypton thought that she was going to tell him to wait again.

Then a miracle occurred.

"Atsi." Her voice was level, cool. "You are malfunctioning. I cannot calculate any other way that you would have listed that program's injuries as surface imperfections." She raised her voice enough so that the entire waiting area of the clinic could hear her. "We recompilers are here to help any damaged program, Basics and ISO alike. Severity of injury is the only decision point. Not the primary point – the only point. Atsi, you will be replaced by the next triage program on the list and report for a definition update. And if I ever see you making that kind of mistake again, I'm going to ask the User to export you from the Grid."

She turned to Jef and Cei then. "You, come with me. I'll repair you now."

As Krypton followed Cei and Jef into the recompiler's work area, he heard the programs behind him cheering.

You cheer now, but what did you do to help him then? he thought bitterly.

* * *

The console in the corner of their apartment pinged softly, cutting through the music that Krypton and Lisrel were swaying to. Krypton made a noise of protest at the interruption, burying his face in Lisrel's shoulder, and Lisrel chuckled and stroked the back of his neck. "Better check that, love," Lisrel murmured.

"Yeah, yeah, I know. Might be important." Krypton glanced over at the console, seeing the discreet line of light at the bottom was glowing white, an indication that it was for him rather than the program in whose arms he was currently dancing. It wasn't a common modification, given that most programs who shared apartments were either blues or greens, but Krypton had found it lurking in the installer menu.

Detaching reluctantly from his partner, the ISO stepped across the room and toggled the display.

Hey, Krypton! Jef and I were going to head down to Hexadecimaltonight – do you and Lis want to come along? Ping back if you're coming, we'll wait for you at our place. Hope you can make it! Cei.

Krypton turned, intending to call across the room and ask Lisrel if he wanted to go or not, only to find him standing at his shoulder and reading the brief lines of text. "Lis, do you . . .?"

"You can't be thinking of going," Lisrel said immediately, eyes wide. "You know what it's like out there."

"So go with me," Krypton urged. "Let's prove to them that we don't care. Come on, Lis. We can dance together, the way we used to."

Lisrel hesitated for just long enough, and Krypton could see the fear in his eyes. It felt like a chunk of broken code stabbing into him. Like betrayal.

"Well, fine!" Krypton snarled, slapping a hand on the screen harder than he needed to, confusing the system and sending the reply ping twice. "I'm not going to be scared of a city I've lived in for more than twenty cycles. I'm not going to duck and cover, walk away and hope they stop noticing me! I am here and they'd better get used to that!"

He strode for the door, ears buzzing as his code clashed angrily, the effect almost drowning out Lisrel's call of, "Wait, Krypton!" The door rezzed closed on any further pleading.

If he wants to talk to me, he can come with me.

He exited the building alone.

* * *

". . . so I told him that I'm not going to be frightened of going outside, and headed for your place."

Cei and Jef exchanged glances, pale eyes and dark communicating wordlessly. "We agree with you," Cei said. "We wouldn't be here if we weren't." She reached out and covered Krypton's left hand – the one not clutching a glass of energy – with her own strong fingers. The rich brown of her surface render was vivid against the blindingly white-lit table and Krypton's own pale skin, and then a third hand joined theirs – Jef's, as slim and long as the ISO himself. Krypton smiled at his friends, comforted by the touch.

"There are rumors that ISOs will have to have NAVI bits installed," Jef said, face resigned as he looked not at his friend or his partner, but at their joined hands. "Apparently, it's to prevent us getting into places where we shouldn't go. Because Basics would never go anywhere but where they're allowed to."

Krypton sighed. "They want to put locators on us, huh?" he asked wearily.

Cei nodded. "It looks that way. Jef and I were wondering if you could modify that circuit-signature mask you gave to block the NAVI signal as well."

"It'll only work when the mask's active," Krypton warned, fairly sure that he could make the adjustment. NAVIs were very simple bits of code – not quite as simple as the yes/no versions that the NAVIs had been shaped and named after, but simple enough. Setting up encryption to garble its signal would be far simpler than masking and altering his own ISO signature, and he'd managed that.

"That's all we'd want," Jef said, nodding.

"Then yes, I can do it," he told them, seeing the relief blaze on their faces. He dragged the conversation around into a blatant tangent that probably fooled neither of them. "How's the job in the Arena, anyway?"

"I don't work there now," Cei said flatly. "It was bad enough back when they started the deathmatches again. Now, though . . ." She shrugged. "I've set up a repair shop just outside the city core. At least there, I'm not going to be glared at by suspicious security programs while I'm fixing their lightcycles."

"Is that why you moved?" Krypton was putting things together, and not much liking the picture he was coming up with.

Jef nodded. "We calculated we'd better live above the shop. At least if we're there, we can see if anyone comes to break the windows again."

Cei nodded bitterly. "I saw another no-ISOs symbol outside one of the shops on our row this millicycle," she added.

Jef pulled her close and stroked her hair, while Krypton looked on with something approaching envy. Lisrel hadn't been that affectionate in public in cycles.

"You could always come work with me in consumable energy processing," Jef offered. "The programs there don't care whether you're a Basic or an ISO as long as the energy gets refined and the batches get augmented."

Stubbornly, Cei shook her head. "No. Lightcycle editing is what I'm good at, and I'll keep doing it."

Jef nuzzled her ear, and she relaxed into him for a moment. Then she sat upright, eyes firmly fixed on her near-empty drink. The gaze of both male ISOs followed hers, and then they looked up at each other. Jef nodded. "I'll get us all refills. Back in a micro," Jef said aloud, standing up and heading for the brightly lit bar.

The dominant color was blue again, Krypton noticed. He waited patiently, eyes studiously fixed on his own half-filled glass.

"Sometimes . . . sometimes I think it'd be better to just move to Bostrum," Cei said, voice hitching. "I know Jef would move out there in a nano if I said it, but . . . I can't tell him. I don't want to walk away from what I have here. I built a life for myself, we all did. I'm not going to abandon that just because a couple of glitches want to make trouble."

The susurrus of background noise that Krypton had been tuning out since he'd emerged the bar abruptly got louder, a couple of sharp shouts cutting through the babble. He and Cei both turned their heads towards where Jef's unmistakable figure was being surrounded by a group of bulky-looking blues who looked as if they'd been on the wrong side of overcharge for quite some time.

"What the . . ." Cei began.

"You were saying about glitches making trouble?" Krypton said dryly as he stood up and headed towards the bar. Cei was right behind him.

* * *

Krypton staggered out of Hexadecimal's back door, assisted by a shove from behind, and hit the alley wall. Something soft thumped into his back, while another program slammed into the wall beside him.

"Ow," Jef said, and Krypton turned his head to look at the man leaning on the wall beside him. Jef was grinning, despite the fact that his nose had been smashed and there were visible bruises on his exposed skin. All three of them had similar injuries. Krypton had been punched right in the stomach and could feel the broad swath of slowly-crystallizing voxels on his lower torso. Cei's left wrist had snapped when she'd taken down one of the biggest Basics, and her hand dangled limply. Nothing worse, though, by whatever luck they had – the Basics had never gone for their discs, preferring kicks and punches to more lethal weapons.

"I agree," Cei said, peeling herself away from Krypton. "Ow."

Krypton turned himself around, then flopped back against the wall. More bruises, ones he hadn't had a chance to notice in the brawl, announced their presence. "So," he said casually. "End of Line next time?"

Cei and Jef looked at him, and then all three began to laugh. If the sound was a little hysterical, none of the three were about to point it out.

* * *

The door to his and Lisrel's apartment winked out quietly, and Krypton noticed that the lights were off in the main room. Maybe he should sleep on the couch tonight, rather than disturb . . .

"Krypton."

"Lis?" Krypton glanced over to see his lover sitting on the couch, the neon traceries of his visible skin-circuits catching his eye long before the shadowy outline. He reached out for the wall control, cycles of familiarity letting him hit the right buttons despite not looking at what he was doing.

The lights came up as the door closed, allowing Krypton to see the other's expression. Worry mostly, a little anger. Both faded away almost instantly at the sight of Krypton's bruises, shock overtaking everything else. "Kryp, what've you been doing?"

"Standing up for myself," Krypton replied, and winced as the movement made his jaw ache. "Look, Lis, I'm sorry, you were right . . ."

"No, I'm sorry," Lisrel told him, getting up and moving over to him, hand tracing the marks on his face so lightly that Krypton barely felt it. "You were right, too. You shouldn't have to hide." He leaned down and brushed his lips over Krypton's own, then smiled. "Come on, strip off and sit down. I'll get you some energy pads for the impact damage."

"You just want to see me naked," Krypton teased, relieved that things were back to normal between them.

"Naturally," Lisrel replied, grinning at him.

* * *

The NAVI rumor had proved to be fact, and Krypton's was due to be installed that millicycle. Lisrel had switched shifts in order to be there with him, something Krypton appreciated. The notion of a Basic toying with his code made Krypton's disc itch, even though the official data had stated that he'd be permitted to load it up on his own. He hoped that it was accurate.

His hand flexed as they walked along the street, skirting one of the main squares where traffic converged and separated out again. He wanted to reach for Lisrel's, hand, but he didn't dare to. "Lis?"

"Yes, Kryp?" Lisrel looked back at him, half-hidden fear mingled with frustrated want.

"Cei mentioned something the other night, about this colony . . ."

A slash of blue ripped across the street ahead of them, like a tall lightcycle trail without the lightcycle. Startled, they both turned, seeing similar walls sliding across to block every exit to the square, Sentry and Guard pairs standing along every wall. Krypton, dread locking him in place, exchanged a desperate glance with his partner as the nearest Sentry stepped away from his post and headed straight for them.

As if they'd practiced the maneuver, Lisrel stepped in front of Krypton, blocking him from the sight of the Security programs and letting the bulk of the crowd do the rest. Krypton flicked his circuits over to blue, the signature mask pulling power as always, a drain Krypton had never been so glad to feel before.

When Lisrel moved away, Krypton was firmly blue and had used that moment to pull himself together. Basic. He had to think Basic.

"Program." The Sentry was standing in front of him, head tilted and looking . . . confused? "Are you an ISO?"

"No," Krypton said, in a good imitation of surprise, his fear of discovery adding the mechanical edge of a program under stress. "I'm a Stats program."

The Sentry nodded. "Apologies, program. Visualization error."

"Orestes? Is that you?"

Krypton looked at Lisrel, surprised again. The Sentry turned and, amazingly, smiled. "Lisrel. Yes, it's me. Did you get that data I unlocked for you?"

"Data?" Krypton asked.

Lisrel smiled at him, a glow in those compelling blue eyes that Krypton hadn't seen in cycles. "Don't ask, Kryp. It's a surprise."

Krypton could never resist that smile. "All right. I'll wait."

Orestes bid them both farewell and returned to his post, while above them, gigantic screens blazed to life, all bearing the image of the Admin in his long coat.

"Greetings, programs," Clu said, a faint smile on his lips that hovered on the edge of a smirk. "I can tell you now that the Grid is flourishing. Our system is a model of almost perfect efficiency and stability, despite chaotic elements that could mar progress towards this goal. It is due to you, my loyal programs, that we have achieved this.

"However. Some programs do not wish to be part of this perfect system. Some would rather promote instability, spread false words, try to persuade you that my intentions are not in the best interests of the Grid. However, I can assure you that my care is, as ever, for the system and all the programs who live here."

In one corner of the screen, a smaller box popped up, showing a blue program that Krypton thought might be a system utility. The video might have been live, for the audio began in mid-rant. ". . . going to kill them all! He thinks that there's too many, that they're a drain on the system! I can't . . ."

The box blinked out, and with it, the sound.

"This program is operating under the false belief that I intend to harm the system. However, there is some truth to his faulty reasoning. The system, despite its efficiency, is under strain. Those programs who cannot provide a meaningful contribution will have to prove that they are capable of giving back to the system. We cannot afford parasites on our energy reserves. The program I have just shown you is one such.

"I am not cruel, my fellow programs. He will be sent to the Games, and should he survive, he will be welcomed back once he has deleted those false beliefs.

"Everything I do, I do to create the perfect system."

The screens went black, and Krypton was so stunned that he didn't even notice as the blue barriers disappeared. "Where is the User now?" he breathed. "Why can't he fix this?" Why does he let Clu get away with this?

"Where, indeed," Lisrel said, his tone matching the anger in Lisrel's voice, his face still and hard.

* * *

"So, the mask edit works," Krypton said to Jef and Cei, passing them two read-only data hexes. "It's ridiculous, though. I know my way around better than the Bit does, but when I've got the NAVI active, it won't let me in some places that I used to visit. Nobody cared before, but now . . ." He shrugged and frowned at his drink, the driving bass beat provided by the End of Line's signature duet oddly relaxing. Or perhaps it was simply that no-one had looked sideways at him since he'd stepped through the door. He hadn't realized just how used he'd become to the covert stares until, abruptly, they were gone.

"Mine won't either," Cei said, equally grumpily. "And the way the Bit catches everyone's attention when you're out . . . you might as well say, Hello, I'm an ISO, to everyone."

"I've seen a few on new Basics when they're still learning their way around the city," Krypton offered, though he agreed with Cei. "But . . . yes. I had to go blue just to get here without the NAVI trying to take me via the back alleys."

A glum silence descended over the table.

"My dear ISOs!"

As one, they flinched.

"Ah, no winces for that, my pretty programs, for this is the End of Line club!" A program sashayed up to their table, his circuits as white as theirs, his outfit flamboyant in white and silver. "A place where ISOs are welcome and revelry prevails! My name is Zuse, and I am your host for this evening. Now, may I ask why you are all looking so unhappy? This is a place for diversions and entertainment, after all."

Krypton exchange a startled look with Jef and Cei.

"Ahhh. Your first time at the End of Line, is it?" Zuse smiled, and Krypton noticed an odd, circular symbol in the middle of his forehead as the host swept them an elegant bow, his cane describing patterns in the air. "Well, then. Libations for this table!" he called out, catching the attention of everyone in the bar.

Krypton barely stopped himself from trying to shrink into the seat, anticipating that the attention would be unfriendly. As it happened, though, the rest of the patrons simply turned back to their own pursuits, and a familiar figure at the bar waved acknowledgement.

Zuse beamed impartially at them again. "Do enjoy the drinks, my dears. The End of Line has the finest energy on the Grid!"

Cei smiled at Zuse, looking far more at ease than she had earlier. "Thank you."

"For you, gorgeous? Any time." Zuse waved and turned away, almost dancing as he headed for another part of the club.

For a moment, there was silence.

Krypton turned to Cei, intending to say something, but he caught the words before they could come out of his mouth. Cei looked stunned, introspective, almost happy. "Jef?" she said, only just loud enough to be heard over the music.

"Yes?"

"I changed my mind," she said tranquilly. "I want to go to Bostrum. I want to be accepted like this, Jef. Not just here in the End of Line, but everywhere."

Jef's circuits blazed in an excess of emotion. He wrapped his hands around her waist and stood, lifting her out of her seat and into the air, swinging her around in a circle before putting her down. "As soon as you want," he promised, joy in his face. "Now, even."

"When we leave here," she said firmly. Then realization broke. "Wait. How long have you had the Solar Sailer passes?"

"Since we got kicked out of Hexadecimal," Jef admitted.

Krypton would have been happy to simply sit back and absorb their happiness, but both of his friends seemed to remember that he existed at about the same time.

"Krypton, come here," Cei said, holding her arms out to him. He rose, smiling, and hugged her tightly as she embraced him. "You've been my friend longer than anyone else. I'll miss you."

"We both will," Jeff said, the tall ISO wrapping his arms around both of them, sandwiching Krypton between the pair. Krypton sighed and leaned back.

"I'll miss you too," Krypton told them, going a little staticky. "You never know, Lis and I might come and join you."

"You can have all our kit," Cei told him, not letting go. "We won't need it, and I'd rather you had it than Security took it away. I'll give you the permissions now, if that's okay?"

Krypton nodded, and Jef pulled away from his back just far enough for Cei to rest her hand on Krypton's disc dock. Cei's touch as she passed on the codes was a tingle, as bright and warm as the ISO herself, and he gladly let the addition through.

"Is this an ISO-only hug, or can old friends join in?"

Jef laughed and extended an arm to pull Petra into the hug. "Depends. Do the old friends come bearing energy?" he teased.

"It's on the table," the former Hexadecimal bartender said promptly.

"Then you're welcome," Cei told her, and Krypton managed to loosen one arm enough to hug Petra as well. They kept that tableau for a microcycle and then, as if an unspoken accord had passed between then, moved away from each other.

"So, what's the celebration for?" Petra asked, smiling. She looked comfortable in the uniform of the End of Line and, like Cei, appeared much happier than the last time he'd seen her.

"We're moving to Bostrum!" Cei said enthusiastically, a grin on her face.

Petra raised an eyebrow. "All three of you?"

"No, just them," Krypton clarified. "I'm staying in the city for a while longer."

Petra nodded. "I'm glad. I'd hoped to see you in here sooner – what took you so long?"

"Things happened," Jef said vaguely. "Cei, do you want to dance?"

With Jef's mention, Krypton became aware once more of the upbeat music. Cei, meanwhile, took Jef's hand and beamed up at him. "Let's go!"

The two of them melted onto the dance floor, leaving Krypton at the table with Petra. He smiled and sat down again, picking up one of the drinks that she'd brought and sampling it. "You're getting better at this," he said approvingly.

"It helps that I don't have Seris making suggestions all the time," she said wryly. "Which reminds me, how are the Stats group?"

The smile fell off Krypton's face at the mention of his friends. "I don't know," he said, eyes turning down to examine every nuance of the tiny, glassy umbrella floating in the liquid. "I haven't seen most of them in a long time. I did run into Shandik a few millis ago, but we didn't exchange more than a few words."

"And Lisrel?"

"Asleep," he said, shrugging. "He had to stay longer at Stats to fix a problem, and I don't know where he went after that. By the time I got home, he was in recharge, so I left and went to Jef and Cei's place."

Petra, her face full of sympathy, rubbed his shoulder. "I have to get back to work, Krypton. But I'll be at the bar if you need me."

Krypton nodded, managing a wan smile. "Thanks."

* * *

Ever since Cei and Jef had left for the Bostrum Colony, Krypton had been researching the place in his off-shifts. A 3D model of the initial structure, glowing in a bright green that he'd seen a few programs wearing in the city, was hanging over the terminal when the bar at the bottom flashed blue. A message for Lisrel – a realtime video message, at that.

Krypton opened the channel, expecting to take a message, and instead blinked at the familiar, unhappy face. "Seris? What's wrong?"

"Gridbug attack," Seris said, biting her lip. "They destroyed the building I live in. Lived in. I don't know why they came here, it's not like this is an ISO sector . . ."

"Wait right there, I'll come and get you," Krypton said immediately. "Where are you?"

She looked even more unhappy at that, for some reason. "Isn't Lisrel there? I'd prefer him to fetch me." His face must have betrayed something, as she added, "It's not a very ISO-friendly sector."

"Lisrel's still out," Krypton informed her. There was no way he was going to tell her that he didn't know where, and that Lisrel was long since overdue to be home from work. "Seris, if it's that bad, I can always use the circuit mask."

Her lips pinched, but she nodded. "Okay. This is where I am."

She sent the coordinates, and Krypton nodded. "I'll be there soon."

Seris nodded and disconnected the call without another word. Krypton grabbed Lisrel's two-seater baton. The vehicle had lain mostly unused in the few cycles since his shift change, and Lisrel had stopped talking about the vehicles long before then. Thinking back, Krypton was dismayed to realize that he couldn't pinpoint when Lisrel had stopped talking excitedly about the two-seater and its capabilities.

He paused only to exit the Bostrum data search and write a quick note on the terminal in case Lisrel returned. As he headed for the elevator, his colors flashed over to blue, the immediate drain a background irritation against his worry for his friend.

When he found Seris, she was shivering in reaction, and he offered her his jacket. She hesitated before taking it, but put it on after a moment of what looked like a silent internal debate. The fact that it stayed blue seemed to make her relax, but she was just as silent on the return journey, leaving Krypton to concentrate on the road instead of his passenger. As they passed by Hexadecimal, he glanced up.

Next to the multicolored angular neon sign was another in plain white. A hollow hexagon, with a sideways caret on one side and a T shape at ninety degrees on the other. Over the top, bright red lines slicing across the symbol, was an X.

No ISOs.

* * *

When they made it back to Krypton and Lisrel's apartment, Lisrel was waiting for them. Seris fell into his support with a sob of relief, explaining the problem in far more detail than she'd given Krypton. There had been a warning for their area about a Gridbug attack, but she'd though herself safe, well inside a buffer zone of other buildings. For some reason, though, the bugs had bypassed the other structures and gone straight for both the one she lived in and the neighboring building. She'd barely escaped, and wouldn't have if Security hadn't rescued her.

"They were wonderful, they really were," she said, eyes shining from where she was leaning against Lisrel on the couch. "Helping to evacuate all of us, dealing with the bugs and with the falling rubble . . . I couldn't do that."

Sitting down beside Seris, Krypton silently proffered her a glass of energy. She reached to take it, then stopped, staring . . . at the glass? No, at his arms. His bare, circuit-free arms, no longer concealed by the jacket that she was still wearing.

He glanced up to meet her eyes. She looked up as well after a moment, and smiled tentatively. "It's fine," she said, taking the glass from his hand. "I know you. That's what matters, right?"

* * *

Krypton raced for the apartment building, the data hex nestling in his belt pouch feeling as if it had a weight all his own. He had a way out of the city for both of them, places on a Solar Sailer that left later that millicycle, going to Arjia. From there, they could take lightcycles to the Bostrum Colony, and set up in a place where they wouldn't be oppressed. Just like Cei and Jef. Krypton smiled when he thought of telling Lis about the double pass, a surprise for his partner that he'd been working on for centicycles.

Lisrel had mentioned that he had a surprise to announce too, and Krypton wondered what it might be. Maybe he'd opted to upgrade to encryption/decryption too, and would be joining Krypton on his shift?

When he bounced in through the door, Lisrel turned to meet him with the happiest smile that he'd seen on his lover in decicycles. "Krypton! Great timing, I just got the news myself. I've been accepted for an upgrade to the Guard!"

Krypton stood stock still, complete and utter shock freezing him where he stood. "The Guard?" he managed. "Lis . . . you're Stats. Not Security."

"That's the great thing about the upgrade," Lisrel said, his previous enthusiasm partially dampened by confusion. "It doesn't matter what I am now, it'll change my parameters. Kryp, I want to do this. I want to protect programs like Seris from things that might hurt them. Being out there, helping people, it's so much better than being locked to a desk."

"But . . ." Krypton couldn't find the words. Lisrel had seen how the Guard had treated him, treated other ISOs. How could he want to join them?

"I thought you'd be happy for me, Krypton." Lisrel's expression was just as baffled as Krypton's own. "I thought you'd understand. You're an ISO – is it so hard to believe that a Basic might want to be something other than what he's written to be?"

Krypton shook his head. "No . . . no, I knew you always wanted to be more. I know you have the potential. But Security, Lis? The same Security that won't listen to ISOs, blames my kind without proof, treats us as threats when doing no more than following bandwidth traffic?"

"No, not that Security!" Lisrel said, frustrated. "They're not like that. I know them, they're good programs. All they want to do is keep the Grid safe from threats, like Gridbugs!"

"Gridbugs, and what else?" challenged Krypton. "Or when they said Gridbugs, did they mean ISOs?" The grief lent a bitter edge to his voice. "Do you really know what you're going to become?"

"Yes," Lisrel spat back at him. "Do you think I don't have enough independence to make decisions? Well have some data: I can make choices too, lover." Lisrel's own voice went sharp-edged and vicious as he continued. "Thanks to Clu, programs like me can be whatever fits the needs of the System."

Krypton stepped back as abruptly as if the verbal blow had been a physical one. "Lis, you don't have to do that here! I've got us both a way out of this city, somewhere we can go and not be harassed for being together. You can get whatever upgrades you want, just don't let Clu . . ."

"Clu is our Admin. Our leader," Lisrel snapped back. "He keeps this whole system running, keeps it stable. And you tell me not to trust him?"

"Yeah, I'm telling you that!" Krypton half-shouted in return. "Clu hates my people, it's obvious to anyone with the ability to interpret data! Do you really think he'll leave it at that?"

It was Lisrel's turn to reel back, and Krypton would have felt bad about it if he hadn't been so angry. "Fine, you don't trust him. Don't you trust me, Kryp?"

A moment of hesitation on his part, trying to figure out the right words to say. Lisrel, however, seemed to misinterpret his silence.

"No, you don't," Lisrel said bitterly. "And if you don't trust me . . . do you even love me, now?"

"Of course I do!" Krypton snarled. "I want us to be together, and safe. Is that too much to ask?"

"Your 'safe' would have me as your pet Basic. Unchanging, tasked to the same function as I've always been. You want to leave? Fine, then leave!"

Shock blazed anew, killing the anger that had been making his circuits flare. "Lisrel?" Krypton whispered.

"I don't need a partner who won't support me. Especially not an ISO. I guess Clu was right about your kind after all."

It wasn't what he wanted, not at all. Something in him, though, swallowed the sobs and walked him out of the door. Down the elevator. Onto his lightcycle.

Lisrel didn't follow him.

Soon, he was sitting at the Solar Sailer station, turning the data hex over and over in his fingers. Lisrel was supposed to be here, beside him, not off to become one of Clu's faceless Guards. Maybe he'd change his mind, come find him here.

Raised voices caught his attention, and he looked up to see two other ISOs standing in front of a Guard – the same sort of Guard that Lisrel wanted to be. Both ISOs were female, one visibly injured and being supported by the second, who was arguing with the Guard.

"She needs help! Please, just let her on the train with me."

"You have one pass. You cannot use it for two programs."

The second ISO's face crumpled, and she turned to the other. "Can you take the train on your own? I'll follow as soon as I can get another pass."

The first shook her head. "I'm not going without you!"

"You have to. Look, it won't be long . . ."

"Wait." Krypton hadn't realized he'd spoken up until the three turned to face him. "I have a double pass. I'll swap it for your single."

The gratitude on both the ISO's faces warmed him, even as he felt some distant part of his code go inert.

"You're sure?" the healthy ISO woman asked. "What about the other person that you got that pass for?"

"He's not coming," Krypton said simply.

The exchange was achieved, and the Guard scanned both passes and walked away without a word. With the current mood in Tron City, that was as close as they were going to get to permission to board granted.

"Thank you," the injured woman said, and despite Krypton's grief, he found himself smiling back at her. Her smile looked a lot like Cei's,

* * *

Arrogant ISO. Who was he to say what Lisrel could or couldn't be? Clu was right, their lack of a directive made them problems in the system.

Lisrel had opted to walk to the upgrade facility. This was the last time he'd walk these streets as a simple Stats program. No, next time he'd be one of the Guard, protecting programs from threats to the system, derezzing Gridbugs, being appreciated for the work he did. When Krypton heard about him, how well he was doing, he'd be sorry he'd walked out. He'd see that there was just as much flexibility in Basics as there was in ISOs. He'd see. He'd see the way that Lisrel saw now, like the Grid was new and he could do anything. He strode down the streets, blue and pale green swirling around him.

Off to one side, there was a flash of white, a darting blue NAVI leading it through the crowd.

Krypton?

No. Not Krypton. Another white-clad program, visible only because the programs around him were giving him a little extra personal space. If he was an ISO, that made sense. Best not to accidentally brush against him and maybe make him uncomfortable.

Lisrel turned his head away and kept going, the upgrade facility just up ahead. It glowed in clean blue with orange accents, and the contrast appealed to him.

"Disc."

Lisrel turned, startled, to the Guard standing at the entrance. With obedience born of long habit, he undocked his disc and presented it to the security program. "Lisrel, from –"

"I know who you are." Lisrel's disc shone momentarily as the Guard accessed the permissions Lisrel had been told to install earlier, and the masked program nodded. "Lisrel-81-JR-0031E, proceed to Chamber 7, Pod 18 and follow instructions. Welcome to the Guard."

Lisrel smiled as the Guard handed him his disc back, re-docking it and proceeding with new confidence into the building. He was doing the right thing, he knew he was. Chamber 7 was two levels up and around two corners, but the layout was beautifully logical, as befitted one of Clu's buildings, and he had no trouble finding it.

Pod 18 was on the first row of a 32x32 square of upright, single-program resting pods. 1 through 17 were already full, the front parts of the chamber rezzed in and solid to protect them against any interference with the delicate update procedure.

"Welcome, program. Step into your designated pod and allow your disc to synchronize," said a firm female voice, the tone insisting on efficiency. "When the procedure is complete, you will be released from your pod."

Lisrel stepped towards the open, inviting pod that had been designated for his use . . . and hesitated.

Clu hates my people, it's obvious to anyone with the ability to interpret data! Do you really think he'll leave it at that? Krypton yelled in his memory.

No. Krypton had to be wrong. Clu was doing what he had to, to protect the system as a whole. Krypton was viewing the data from a biased perspective. All of Lisrel's earlier arguments still held true.

Lisrel stepped forward, turned around, and backed into the pod so that his disc locked into the panel at the back of the pod. The cover rezzed in, an opaque shield that left him nothing to look at but the plain, dark inside of the pod. His circuits were the only things giving light in this lightless place.

Behind him, his disc tingled as those same permissions that the Guard had used earlier were accessed, something alien weaving into his code. It felt strange, as if his code was being looked at line by line, but it also felt oddly good.Of course it is, Lisrel thought to himself. My code needs to be scanned to see where the upgrade is going.

The code scan was doing strange things to his memories. An image of a laughing Krypton, leaning in for a kiss. The first time they'd met. The . . .

Lisrel was so busy watching his memories that he failed to notice the clear restraints that flipped over his feet. Nor did he notice when he fell into standby.

* * *

Once by one, the covers of the pods melted away. Thirty-two programs stepped out; a fraction of what the room could hold, but enough for the moment, each staring straight ahead through full-face masks as the brisk female voice spoke again.

"Programs. Who do you serve?"

The chorus came unhesitating from thirty-two throats.

"Clu."

* * *

Krypton opened his eyes, the memory of the Solar Sailer fading away in Kade's sleeping face. Something surged then, protectiveness with overtones of affection and a desire that he barely dared acknowledge.

I did love Lisrel.

What if I fall for Kade? What if he . . . cares in return? Would it just go the same way?

What if it doesn't?

He sighed, smiled at how Kade was cuddling up to his hand, and fought down the urge to lean forward and press a kiss to his nose.

I think . . . that whatever's between us, Kade feels it too. This attraction. It was the first time he'd properly admitted it to himself, even silently. It's real. I don't think either of us can deny that.

I don't want to deny it.

Let's see where this goes.