Work Text:
Within the marked boundaries, walls drew themselves in bright wireframe, blue edging to pure white. Yori inspected the outlines by habit. The structure would be a good solid one, if a bit simple, a rectangle without ornamentation. The roof’s height stretched tall enough to be interesting, though not a fourth as tall as the highest spire of the neighboring Portal Tower, of course. None of the complexity of the stored data inside was active or visible, not yet.
Most of her attention was still focused on the single dark-haired figure standing at the near corner. Light flickered, washing across an expression of wonder. Brighter flares glowed where the User touched the input points.
Unquestionable that the recent arrival was a User. Fully authorized with administrative rights, as the system’s eager response testified. No matter how newly granted.
When Yori had first heard of the request for a standard data install, she hadn’t expected the next step to come in the form of a laser digitization command. She’d pelted back to the Portal tower while the User in question gave final confirmation, and been shocked to realize that the code and form belonged to Quorra. Flynn’s favored one, the last surviving Iso. The only program to escape to the User world.
Yori wasn’t sure if coming back could be called a wise idea.
“How does it look?” Quorra called, a touch of worry shading her delight. Yori recalled her duty and finished checking what she could see of the structure. The fact that she still wondered why Quorra had come at all didn’t mean she should delay known tasks to fret about it.
Nothing misaligned in the base code, no snarls that would impede construction. “No visible errors,” Yori declared, in guarded approval.
Quorra lost an intangible fraction of her bounce, visible but unquantifiable, at the wary assessment. The unexpected effect startled Yori. Adding a little more enthusiasm to her report wouldn’t have tainted the accuracy. Maybe she should have tried.
Not too late, Yori supposed, clearing her throat uncomfortably. “Good lines. Awaiting your input, sir.”
But Quorra actually jumped at the standard formal address, gathered energy dimming as her hands left the incomplete structure. “That isn’t--please don’t.” She turned to face Yori with a nervous smile. “I haven’t changed that much. I’d rather not be treated as...as...”
“A User?” Yori supplied wryly. That particular formality made her uncomfortable too and she felt relieved to be directed to avoid it. It was Clu’s representatives who’d laid claim to it for a thousand cycles, regardless of cleaner uses in Encom. But Yori hadn’t wanted to presume too much familiarity. As far as she could see, Quorra had millions more reasons to want the remnants of Clu’s system wiped from existence than she did to want anyone but Flynn preserved. It was Flynn the Users had spent their time recovering first, as near to himself as code repair could make him, and by Yori’s judgment the rest of this small, fragile system existed for his benefit and his guilt as much as anything else.
Quorra shook her head once. “Different,” the last Iso corrected, and turned with uneasy haste back to the thin unfinished walls.
Probably better to let her proceed, Yori calculated, until they’d both recovered from that awkward moment. She took a cautious step closer.
At the User’s touch and permission, energy leaped gleefully upward to fill in the solid lines: a multifunctional template storage, within its shielding walls. Yori leaned in to see the intricate interior design taking shape before the walls went opaque. This would be a very small baton foundry compared to even the minor civilian operations in the early days of the Grid, but it was the first to be reinstalled here and all they needed yet, with such a small population.
No words could describe how deeply Yori had missed flying. Forbidden to her, like so many other things, while she’d served Clu.
Quorra’s joyful expression returned several times brighter in the light of the fusing code. A happy glance included Yori. With some bemusement, she realized she was smiling too, a soft mix of gratitude and anticipation that cushioned the worry.
“Well done.” The internals and the templates needed more testing, but no need to withhold praise on what was self-evidently a very nice install. Quorra’s first.
The last of the light condensed into the lines that would keep the walls and the foundry linked into the young system’s core, steady power. Quorra dropped her hands and took a step back, looking up, with a wilder grin of accomplishment. “It actually worked!”
Not so different, indeed. Yori felt her own smile grow in lopsided nostalgia. Teaching young Isos about their new home had involved many frustrations, but many fond memories. Any new program had some of the same fresh delight, exploring their own capabilities. “Time to get it running,” she suggested, letting an edge of her excitement show for Quorra’s sake.
Quorra broke instantly for the door, which slid open just in time. More good coding. Yori compressed a silent laugh and followed.
Within, the foundry reminded Yori of sections of the Factory District she’d known long ago in Encom. The small size meant only one baton would be designed at a time. More like her old prototyping work than the efficient mass production the Grid had developed over its long cycles.
Separate compartments would hold the chosen data, combining them into a single baton. There were limits on how much you could fit into the compressed form, and pushing them meant more overall fragility, more chance of fragmentation errors.
As long as her baton held a lightjet, Yori didn’t plan to fuss over the details. Or at least only for fun, later, when she’d have plenty of time to experiment with modifications.
Quorra seemed to have much the same idea, calling up jet schematics on the first workscreen before Yori even offered the suggestion. Not bad designs, though only a couple of options that offered little specialization between them.
There would be time to improve on that later.
“They should work,” Quorra said, spinning the view with a critical squint. “Sam and I put the data package together and I made sure to include jets, although that was trickier than finding Flynn’s old lightcycle backups.”
Standard enough engine, wings, control surfaces and safety cutouts. Yori nodded, moving forward for a better view. “It looks functional...but safer to test that before we get too far with modifications.”
The wide and instant smile of agreement made Yori wonder if Quorra had missed the freedom of lightjet flight just as much, if for different reasons.
That motive would make more sense of Quorra’s presence with the install. “Is a chance to fly the reason you came inside for this?” she asked, diffident. “It would have taken us a little longer, maybe, but we’d have gotten the foundry built on our own.”
Coming at all was a risk when the Portal laser was still struggling over test oranges, with one or another nervous program triggering safety override, reversal, and shutdown more than half the time. All of which had to look even less safe from outside. Yori had been surprised Quorra’s conversion to digital succeeded--though it helped that they all knew her code in both versions already.
Quorra’s fingers on the screen went still. “Partly,” she admitted. “The User world is wonderful, but always strange. And what they said was happening here, I couldn’t see any of it. Only lines of text on a screen, like encrypted messages with half the keys missing. I wanted to see for myself.”
Considering what Yori had seen of Flynn’s cryptic conversations, she could understand the feeling. “I know you and the other Users are anxious to see Flynn. We’re doing the best we can, at the Portal.” She rubbed a nervous hand along the thin armor of her wrist. “We’ll do better.”
“You’re doing fine,” Quorra reassured quickly. “I wouldn’t have tried this if I didn’t trust you all to keep me safe! I know recovering can’t be easy on anyone.” Her smile had faded, but there was sincerity in her eyes. “Flynn’s been talking to us all along. It was the rest of the system I wanted to check on.” A half-shrug. “Make sure you’re okay, that they weren’t overlooking important details you’d miss. Like lightjets.”
“I’m not sure why you would want to,” Yori admitted, gaze faltering to an unfocused stare at her own hands. She hadn’t meant to remind Quorra of old grief. Too late now. “All that’s left of the Grid are the programs who failed to stop Clu.”
She nearly flinched back from the unexpected hand on her shoulder, looked up in surprise. The Iso’s face was set with a thousand cycles of tired sympathy. “Of course I care what happens to my fellow survivors,” Quorra said, quiet and firm.
The fact that Yori didn’t feel she deserved the acceptance didn’t make it any fraction less welcome. She moved her right hand to rest on top of the other for a moment, trying not to let it tremble. “Thank you, Quorra.”
Argument over the details was tempting, but not helpful.
“Come on,” Quorra said more brightly, turning back to the schematic with decisive movements. “I should get a move on if I’m going to finish everything I wanted to do before Sam gets to the Arcade.”
Yori lifted her eyebrows at this. If Sam Flynn wasn’t already standing by while Quorra was in-system, then she could only surmise Quorra had neglected to discuss significant parts of her plan with him...and therefore probably forgotten to ask the other Users as well. Alan-One and Lora were rarely present at this point in a User-day.
She didn’t voice the conclusion. It seemed rude to object to Quorra’s concern for the system. Or her love of flight. At least Sam Flynn would be around to trigger the laser again if necessary.
One more tap set the jet design as confirmed for construction, and Quorra looked over her shoulder at Yori. “Let’s make one of each of these models, bring an extra lightjet, and surprise Tron wherever he’s gone to pace now.”
Yori wouldn’t have suggested that. Not when Quorra had last seen him in a lightjet under a very different name. But if Quorra thought it was a good idea, Tron could definitely use a little fun. She returned a shy grin to Quorra’s querying glance. “Ready when you are.”