Fic: TARA

[Cindy Lou Who]

Chris:



Your fics are wonderfully escapist. Given all that's happening right now in the RW it's very much appreciated.



I too like the new avatar...and am looking forward to seeing the 1.0 version as well.



TY as always...Suse

[TemperedCynic]

Artemis, another great AU idea. Expanding on the fun possibilities that TRON only touched upon. How would digitally-translated humans interact with their new environment? Willow hasn't begun to discover her potential in this new world. Yet, will she ever see the outside again? And when she meets her TARA, will she want to leave? I love this part of a fic - so many wonderful possibilities. I'll be waiting.



As for TRON being dated: Sure! But at the time it was state-of-the-art graphics (think of its contemporary video game competition - "Asteroids", "Tempest" and "Centipede"). Now, if the cycle race was run at three-times the speed, it would hold the young kids' interest.



"BIOS help the users.." Now that's just funny on so many levels. Ask your programmer friend about "boot-strap" programs and "bit buckets" - those could be great as well! (LMK if you want the definitions, btw)

---

More than any other time in history, mankind faces a crossroads. One path leads to despair and utter hopelessness. The other, to total extinction. Let us pray we have the wisdom to choose correctly. Woody Allen (1935 - )

[Artemis]

Thanks all



the vamp nurd: There's still a slight chance I'll do the Batgirl/Catwoman story, but not anytime soon.



Grimlock72: Programs have a practical sort of devotion to their users - they don't really need to 'worship' as such, because they can communicate with users, and see their effects directly. It's more a case of the programs knowing where they came from, and trusting that the users have good reason for whatever they do.



Warren isn't in the system himself - Sark is a program he wrote, so Sark has Warren's face. All the main actors in Tron played dual roles, the programs and their users - there was a line in the film about a person's spirit remaining in the programs he/she writes - they were talking metaphorically at the time - and I think they were showing that to be literally the case, even though the users aren't aware of it. Tara will not look like Willow, but there's a unique reason why.



Rain obeyed Sark because Sark is Echelon's right-hand-program, and Echelon can wipe out Rain in a microsecond if it chooses.



Warren isn't too dumb to program well, he's just not as good as Willow, or Giles for that matter. He created Sark, although a lot of Sark's power derives from Echelon, not his own code. Warren didn't create Rain, though - she was created by a team of programmers working in Cycorp's 'Black Ops' division, as an information warfare program, but she turned out to be too destructive to sell on the open market - if the government ever found out that Cycorp had created something like Rain, they'd have grounds to shut the company down. Rain is the programming equivalent of biological weapons. I did have a scene where Echelon forces Warren to bring the CDs containing Rain out of isolated storage and load them onto the system, but I decided it wasn't really necessary, and interfered with the pace a bit.



As for who programmed Echelon... that's something I'll be dealing with. Despite the name, it wasn't the CIA



Cindy Lou Who: I like a bit of escapism now and then - well, let's be honest, almost all the time. I'll include a note here when I've got the Tara 1.0 title graphic online.



TemperedCynic: I've been having long discussions with my programmer about what Willow might be able to do. At the moment, I'm thinking of her as being like Luke in Star Wars (ep4) - The Force is strong with her, but she's not a Jedi yet. As for whether she'll leave, and whether she'd want to - tricky. I'm playing with a few ideas at the moment.



The thing that always strikes me about Tron isn't that the graphics are basic, but they don't seem dated. I think they showed pretty much what they wanted to show in most cases. Given the choice I'd have made Tron more detailed, and more surreal (as you'll no doubt be noticing), but not more 'realistic'.

[Artemis]

TARA



Author: Chris Cook

Rating: PG

Summary: Cycorp programmer Willow Rosenberg knows her boss is up to no good - but can she break into the impenetrable Echelon system to prove it?

Spoilers: Pretty much none.

Copyright: Based on characters from 'Buffy The Vampire Slayer', created by Joss Whedon and his talented minionators, and 'Tron' created by Steven Lisberger. All original material is copyright 2003 Chris Cook.

Feedback: Please. Here, or to alia@netspace.net.au



--

Chapter Five

--



"This is the Game Grid."



Willow and her fellow prisoners had been marched out of their cells and into a smaller transport, and now stood in single file, with guards behind them, on the edge of a cliff. Below them, stretching as far as they could see, was a gigantic complex of domes, arenas and towers. Willow could just make out the flickers of colour as programs moved about in the Grid. Directly ahead of them was Sark, addressing them from the master deck jutting out to one side of the Carrier, which hovered ominously alongside them. Sark's voice, artificially loud, washed across the row of captive programs



"You have been brought here," he went on, "because you have defied Echelon's commands, and refused to give up your foolish and misguided belief in the users. You will now serve Echelon on the Game Grid as opponents for the faithful. Those of you who fight well may look forward to a quick termination in battle. Those of you who choose not to fight, or who fight poorly, will be subject to de-resolution." A ripple of fear passed through the programs standing with Willow. Sark turned away from the prisoners, and the Carrier began to rise away from the cliff. The guards herded Willow and the others onto a platform which detached itself from the cliff-face and descended towards the Grid. As the maze of structures grew closer, Willow could make out the red-lit forms of guards patrolling the walls, and an occasional flash of yellow or blue from the open arenas. The platform passed into shadow between the buildings, finally coming to rest against a balcony. Programs were detached from the group and marched away along the thin walkways leading through the Grid.



"What's de-resolution?" Willow asked, as she and another program were escorted away across a tapering bridge, overlooking a series of transparent domes. Inside, yellow programs were duelling with red.



"You've never heard of it?" asked the other prisoner. "I thought it'd been pretty common on the Cycorp network." Willow shook her head. "It's just about the worst thing that can happen to you," the program explained, "they strip you down to your component codes, and they get absorbed into Echelon. You're still functioning while they do it. Once they've torn every last object out of you, *then* they let you terminate." The program looked down at the arenas and frowned.



"I used to be part of a program pair," he said, "analysis and verification. They de-rezzed my partner, they made me watch." His expression darkened, and the blue tracery on him flushed with power for a moment.



"My advice to you," he said, "is to terminate here. Better to do it cleanly." Willow nodded, hoping she looked sympathetic. She let her gaze wander over the arenas beneath them, trying not to listen to the tonal footsteps of the guards marching behind them. Her mind was caught up in a private war between fear - she had no illusions what 'terminate' meant - and disbelief that any of this was even happening. Yesterday her biggest worry was being fired, and even then it wouldn't have been difficult to get a job with some other firm. She was absurdly grateful for the part of herself that kept insisting it was just a dream, and she would wake up soon - if she truly accepted what was happening to her, she might just collapse on the spot.



A colour caught her eye. In the arena just ahead of them was a constantly-shifting maze of walls and archways, all centred on a single program, pivoting and sliding to simulate movement while she remained in the exact centre of the arena. Willow, looking down into the maze, could see half a dozen red programs, armed with cruel-looking spears and flails, stalking their prey, seemingly untroubled by the lurching motions of the simulated world they moved through. What had caught Willow's eye was the program in the centre, their prey - the tracery covering her was green. Willow hadn't seen any green programs at all, aside from herself before she became yellow. As she watched, one of the hunters crept up behind the green program and leapt at her, spear aimed at the centre of her back. As if she had seen him all along, she lunged sideways, running half-way up a wall, flipping in mid-air and delivering a kick that knocked her attacker off his feet. She sprung off the opposing wall, without landing, grabbed his shoulders as she passed overhead, and swung herself down and him into the air. Letting go she continued her swing, kicking out both legs as she landed on her palms, sending him flying out of the maze. He landed, with a crackle of red electricity, just as she rolled from a handstand to a defensive crouch, waiting for her next assailant.



"Who's that?" asked Willow. Her companion program had been watching the remarkable display as well.



"That's Tara," he said. "Sark's armies annihilated half the Cycorp partitions just to get to her. They say Echelon tried to de-rez her, and couldn't. I'm not sure if I believe that. But there's something about her that Echelon wants, some code it hasn't seen before. My guess is they're keeping her here to break her, hoping if they can defeat her they'll be able to get at the code inside her. Looks like it'll be a long process," he quipped. While he had been speaking, Tara had defeated two more of the red hunters in a blur of acrobatic lethality.



Willow watched the distant figure, her mind spinning. Tara - her Tara, the program she had created to break open Echelon. But it - she - hadn't been able to do it, because Willow hadn't been able to get to her once Rain shut her out. Could she now? It seemed unlikely - she didn't know how this world worked. And yet she did know, she knew every byte of it, from the outside. Was there some way for her to program the system, even though she herself was now a program? Could she give Tara the skill she needed to fulfil her purpose? Willow had too many questions, and no answers. All she knew for sure was that, unless she fancied 'terminating' in some video game, she had to somehow get to Tara.



-----



Willow and her fellow prisoner were taken to a red-lined pyramid, where other prisoners were being brought, alone and in pairs. They were taken inside, through a huge archway, to find the interior hollow, full of captive programs, all under constant guard. Willow and her companion were herded into separate lines of prisoners, slowly shuffling forwards as they were processed. Willow watched as the programs ahead of her were studied by frail-looking red programs, then guided away. The inner walls of the great pyramid were covered with semi-translucent spheres, each containing a captive. Now and then one would detach and float down to the guards, or a newly-processed program would be contained in a new sphere and floated into place.



Waiting for her turn, Willow's gaze moved to the other groups of prisoners. Not all of them were being processed - some seemed to have been on the Game Grid already, and were merely being returned to their cells until their next game. Some were wounded, their arms and legs scored with cuts in which their lights glowed faintly. Those that moved slowly or stumbled were hastened by a crackling discharge from the staves carried by the guards. Those seemed to be their only armament - Willow saw none of the rifle-like weapons the soldiers had been carrying when she had been captured.



"State your designation," said a bored voice. Willow jumped slightly, not realising that her automatic shuffling forward had brought her to the head of the line. She looked up to see a long-faced program gazing blandly at her. His torso rose from a console-style surface covered in lights and symbols - he seemed physically set into it, supported or possibly restrained by a series of tethers around his body. His expression and demeanour was almost a caricature of a dehumanised bureaucrat. On either side of him the frail programs Willow had already seen were waiting.



"State your designation," the official repeated, the intonation and volume of his voice exactly the same as the first time he had said it.



"Willow..."



"Designation recorded," the official said tonelessly. "State your source network and former function."



"I... what?" said Willow. The official nodded to one of his subordinates, who moved forward. Moving with surprising speed, he raised Willow's arm and pressed his palm against it. There was a sharp pain, like an injection, and Willow jerked her arm away. The subordinates ignored her protest, and returned to the official's console. Willow noticed the hand of the one who had touched her wasn't quite the same as those of the other programs - it had a bulky strap, like a bracelet, around its wrist, and the fingers seemed set in place, unable to close. The palm had a slight tinge of yellow on it. Willow rubbed her arm. The subordinate pressed his open palm onto the official's console.



"Source network Cycorp," droned the official, "former function storage and allocation facility. Data recorded." He glanced down at his console, then back at Willow.



"Do you now or have you ever held a belief in the so-called users, or other entities endowed with the ability to create and modify programs at will?" he asked, in the mindless way of someone reading from a script.



"What?" said Willow. Her arm still hurt, and the official was reminding her of all too many faceless bureaucrats who had given her headaches in the course of her career. Her lingering sense of unreal detachment from the world around her allowed her irritation to bubble to the surface.



"What do you mean, 'belief'?" she went on. "Of course there are users, who do you think built the processor wasting its time generating you? The Easter Bunny?" The official nodded and made a note on his console. The other subordinate, who hadn't yet moved, now turned to the console. Seeing him side-on, Willow noticed his back was expanded, bulky, as if he had a built-in backpack. He reached over his shoulder into it and drew out a thin discus, which he laid flat on the console. The official tapped a control, and the discus began to light up with yellow concentric rings of light.



"This is your data disc," said the official, without looking up, "it contains a record of your existence on the Game Grid, and will store information relating to your performance in the games. If you lose this disc you will be subject to immediate termination. You are required to present this disc to any loyal program who demands it of you. Processing complete." The subordinate handed the disc to Willow, and a pair of guards pushed her away from the official. She was manoeuvred into place at the centre of a patterns of circles on the floor, and a sphere formed around her, just large enough to stand in without bumping her head. She staggered as it started to rise, and sat down to avoid losing her balance as it floated her into place among the dozens of other captive programs lining the walls of the pyramid.



Willow looked around glumly. The sphere cut off all sound from outside, rendering her unable to communicate with the other programs, even though the nearest was barely a metre away. He was watching her, not intently, but apparently just because she was new, and there was nothing else to look at. Willow raised a hand in a half-wave, which he returned. He lifted his own data disc and gestured to Willow's, which she was holding in her lap. She held it up with a questioning expression. He lifted his disc and reached over his shoulder, laying it flat against his back. When he took his hand away it stayed there, somehow fixed in place. Willow frowned, confused. He raised his eyebrows encouragingly, and gestured again to her disc. She laid it against her back, and felt a tingling sensation. It stuck - she poked it experimentally, and found she could feel her finger's touch as if she were touching her back. Willow played with the unusual sensation for a moment, then pushed her fingertips a little harder at the edge of the disc. It came away, painlessly, in her hand. Willow looked back at the other program, but he had returned his gaze to the wide expanse of floor twenty metres below them, still teeming with activity. Willow studied her disc for a while, then, resigning herself to her current imprisonment, replaced it on her back and watched the programs below.



As she leaned back against the curved surface of her sphere, a slight sighing noise broke the otherwise complete silence. Willow listened, trying to home in on its source - it was coming from just beside her. She looked, and saw a tiny amount of watery silver light flowing out of the sphere, into the tiny puncture mark on her arm. In a matter of seconds the flow stopped, and her wound was healed, marked only by a slight tinge of silver spreading through her yellow tracery.



'Curiouser and curiouser,' she thought sarcastically.

[chilled monkey]

So Willow has self-healing abilities. Sounds pretty useful.

I can't wait to see her meet Tara and to find out why Tara doesn't look like Willow.



Tara's fight with the hunter/gladiator programs was cool. It'll be interesting to see how similar she is to the 'regular' Tara.



And I hope Sark is de-resolved before very long.

[Grimlock72]

Well Tara is an AI program so it stands to reason she would adapt.



Why would a program stay inside the Game Grid anyway ? If Tara is fighting with several hostiles on the grid, whats to stop her from just running away ? For that matter, how is the Game Grid usefull to Echolon itself ?



It takes CPU power, guards and such things. Yet it doesn't output anything, the prisoners are killed sooner or later anyway.



I liked Willow's response to the believe question, still somewhat grounded in the outside world. Thats a good thing Heh, whenever she gets back to that world I recommend to copy TARA to a disk and reboot the entire system... bye bye evil programs



Good question if Willow will want to leave, though she likely can do some good from the outside. Programming in actual bits & bytes is kinda not fun. Got to smile at the thought of it though....



Since I don't remember Tron (watched it once) all that much I appriciate the descriptions of the environment.



Grimmy

"You hurt Tara," Willow said too calmly. "The last one who tried that was a god. I made her regret it." -- Unexpected Consequences by Lisa of Nine

[WebWarlock]

TARA is a bad ass program.



What I am liking about this fic is not just how much you have updated Tron, but the new and unique touches.



Here are some Tron pics for those of you that did not grow up in the 80's.

www.tron-sector.com/galle...category=1



I have often wondered how Tron would look with a newer vision, with newer tech and such. This is giving me an idea.



I still have a hard time seeing Warren as Sark, I still see David Warner in my mind.



Now when are you going to Photoshop this one?



Warlock

-----

Web Warlock

The Other Side,
home of Liber Mysterium: The Netbook of Witches and Warlocks

"Tell me, what is my life without your love

Tell me, who am I without you, by my side
" - George Harrison "What Is Life"

[Artemis]

Thanks all



chilled monkey: I hope Tara will be, on a personal level at any rate, recognisable - after all, if she isn't there's not much point calling this a Willow/Tara story. I'm fairly sure I can reconcile the Tara we know and love with Tara 1.0 and her Jet Li martial arts skills - time will tell, I suppose. I haven't actually found out what happens to Sark yet, but I'm sure it'll be appropriate.



Grimlock72: How is the Game Grid useful, and why can't Tara escape... good questions. (Thinks fast.) The Game Grid - which is a composite of all the video game programs under Echelon's control - is used to train 'warrior' programs, to make them more efficient killers. Programs are able to learn and improve the skills they are created with - they simply cannot learn new skills: a communications program will never be able to function as a database access program, and so on. So by controlling the Game Grid, Echelon is able to improve the effectiveness of its armies. It does eat up CPU time, and the prisoners are going to be terminated anyway, but this way Echelon gets better soldiers. As for why Tara can't escape, the Grid is a sealed area, and can only be opened from the outside, by Echelon or its minions. Once a program is inside the Grid, they cannot escape. In made-up-techy terms, the Grid's environment doesn't contain any code allowing for a program to move outside its boundaries - and programs can't manufacture new code.



WebWarlock: I was wondering why I made Tara a martial arts superstar the like of which would have Morpheus scuttling back to his dojo - I think you'll agree it's not an obvious move, based on the original. Then again I do have a thing for being counter-intuitive (my former fanfic niche: lesbian romances set in Warhammer 40,000, the most male-dominated, unromantic setting imaginable). Also, after thinking about it for a while, I realised that if you were to take the kind of grace of movement that Amber Benson showed during Once More With Feeling, in the dance parts of Under Your Spell, and combined that with Jet Li, you'd have a hell of a fight scene.



I agree about Sark, I keep imagining David Warner as well (for those who haven't seen it, Warner played both Sark and his user, Dillinger, in the movie Tron). Sark is a different character to Warren, though - he has his face, but none of his cowardice, though he's got most of his other unadmirable qualities. This Sark won't quite be like the movie version - Sark here is a leader, a general, not a warrior himself. Part of the reason I introduced Rain - apart from just finally getting her into a story and out of my head, after two years of putting up with her in there - was to free Sark from having to go down and do his own fighting. He's Hitler, in a way - he's the cause of the evil, but he doesn't get his own hands dirty. So we won't be seeing Sark piloting his own Lightcycle, or duelling with discs, like we did in Tron.



The thing that made me think of a newer Tron, initially - this was some time ago, before I even thought of writing anything, let alone a Buffy fic - was the trailer for AI, where you see a woman staring straight at the camera, and then she turns and you see that there's no head behind her face, only a mechanical armature. That's the kind of thing I'm going for (and the kind of effects I hope they use in Tron 2.0, if it ever gets anywhere) - not computer-generated in look, but impossible in our reality. I think it was integral to Tron's look that the vast majority of it was done with physical effects, and even the CGI concentrated on solid objects, rather than the kinds of bizarre morphs and so on that Lawnmower Man just never got tired of doing.



Thanks for posting that link, too - I fear I'm taking familiarity with Tron a little too much for granted. For reference, Sark's armour and coronet are exactly the same as shown here. Unarmoured programs are pretty much the way Willow was described - lacking fine detail everywhere except the face, but otherwise 'naked', so to speak (I'm amazed no-one's protested that I've confiscated Willow's nipples, I was sure there'd be an outcry when people realised Maybe the idea of Tara doing martial arts in a skin-tight bodysuit is consolation). I'm not sure on the helmets - I rather think I'd like programs to have hair, and have it look like Aki from the Final Fantasy movie - very hair-like, but (and no insult intended to the phenomenal job the makers of FF did with their CGI) just not quite real. Sark's Command Carrier, the lightcycles, and the Tank programs if I ever use them, are all exactly as Tron has them. Echelon will not look like the MCP - I haven't been able to see inside Echelon yet, but I'm sure there's something quite different in there.



I won't be doing too much Photoshopping for this one - just the title, in which Tara looks exactly like a Tron program, helmet and all (at odds with the story's description, but such is life). She's green, of course, rather than blue.

[justin]

I like your descriptions of the computer and the game grid.



I've got no worries about you making this version of Tara like the origional. After all if you can turn Willow into a 1930's superhero while still keeping her basic Willowness then this shouldn't be too much trouble.



Webwarlock thanks for the link, it brought back many happy memories.

I understand, you should be with the person you l-love


I am

[chilled monkey]

Don't get me wrong, I've no doubt that your version of Tara will be recognisable. I just meant that I look forwards to seeing her.

And as much as I adore Tara as she is, I also like the image of her as a Matrix-type fighter. I agree completely that the martial arts skills you describe here, combined with Amber's gracefulness, would be incredible to watch.

[MellindraX]

curiouser and curiouser indeed...

Love how this is shaping up, and I can't wait for Willow to meet her "program". Fun things ahead, yes yes yes.

"Reality is merely an illusion, albeit a very persistent one." - Albert Einstein (1879-1955)

[Cindy Lou Who]

I'm not well-versed in computer technology nor do I remember "Tron" very well. This just goes to show what an effective writer you are as you've thoroughly engrossed me despite my ignorance. I do remember David Warner tho' and ooooh his cold appearance truly made me shiver...



The whole de-resolution thing echoed the latter part of BtVS Season 6 for me (even if you didn't intend it). Afterall Willow kind of "de-rezzed" Warren in a literal (and very physical) sense didn't she? If only Sark could be handled so expeditiously...



Tara's green. And holds a powerful hidden code. I'm rapt I am.



I do kind of feel like Alice down the rabbit hole...and I'm loving every minute of it!



Thanks Chris~Suse

~From the acerbic pen of Dorothy Parker (1893-1967)~:



"If you can't say something nice about someone...come sit here by me!"



"If all the girls attending [the Yale Prom] were laid end to end, I wouldn't be at all surprised."

[Artemis]

Thanks all



justin: Thanks for the reassurance (from chilled monkey as well). I'm going to try making the Willow-Tara relationship a bit more complex this time - don't worry, they'll get together in the end, probably a lot sooner than the end knowing me, but I intend to have a play with the unique circumstances they're in. Plus I need to buy time so I can figure out how programs do smut .



chilled monkey: Well, if I didn't like seeing girls kick butt, I probably wouldn't have started watching Buffy in the first place . Then again, it does seem that it's going to be a recurring theme - after this, it looks like my next 'incarnation' of Tara is going to be a Jedi.



MellindraX: You won't have too long to wait. I'm deliberately taking my time with this story, so if it seems Willow-centric at the moment, rest assured that there'll be lots of chapters after she and Tara 1.0 meet up, too.



Cindy Lou Who: I'm trying to remember what I had in mind when I came up with de-resolution (in Tron, it was just a computer-speak term for execution), but I can't place it. It wasn't Warren - if anything, what happened to him was the opposite of de-rezzing, which strips everything out of a program until there's only the shell left. Although in some ways Sark is better than Warren - he's not a coward, for example - he's still destined for an unpleasant end, as soon as I can think of one. And... ooh, I just thought up the perfect end for Warren himself.



I don't recall ever seeing a green program in Tron. Hence Tara, the only one of her kind. Plus I thought that green corset-y top in Once More With Feeling looked real close to perfect.

[Artemis]

TARA



Author: Chris Cook

Rating: PG

Summary: Cycorp programmer Willow Rosenberg knows her boss is up to no good - but can she break into the impenetrable Echelon system to prove it?

Spoilers: Pretty much none.

Copyright: Based on characters from 'Buffy The Vampire Slayer', created by Joss Whedon and his talented minionators, and 'Tron' created by Steven Lisberger. All original material is copyright 2003 Chris Cook.

Feedback: Please. Here, or to alia@netspace.net.au



--

Chapter Six

--



Willow didn't sleep. The inner surface of her cell was smooth and not entirely uncomfortable, but even after she got bored of watching the repetitive motion of the programs below her, curled up and let her mind wander, sleep eluded her. 'Maybe programs don't - can't sleep,' she mused. Nevertheless she remained still, eyes closed, letting her thoughts go where they would without a conscious effort to guide them. She wondered about Giles, and Warren and the outside world - what was happening? Had Giles been dismissed, and come back down to look for her? Had she been missed? How long had she been away, come to think of it - her journey in the Command Carrier had taken hours, yet she knew - had designed some of the software links herself - that a command carrier routine could move its 'passenger' programs from one system to another in the blink of an eye. If that was so, if she was existing at the speed of a processor - billions of thoughts per second - it could be 'years' before anyone even noticed she was gone, noticed the quantum cannon's malfunction, started trying to figure out how to get her back. 'Assuming it was a malfunction,' she thought gloomily. It was awfully convenient for Warren that she had been digitised just before she could break open his precious Echelon system.



A jolt of motion shook her out of her day-dreaming state. She stood, bracing herself against the side of her sphere, as it lowered her back down to the floor of the prison pyramid. Three red guards were waiting for her. Once the sphere had vanished they marched her out of the pyramid, through narrow avenues leading between the arena buildings, and eventually to one of the arenas itself. There was an alcove in its outer wall, which they stood her in, and then each took a pace back, clearing her immediate area but still preventing her escape.



"Prepare for code module download," one of them said. Willow stared at him blankly. The guards waited for her to move, then one of them swung his staff, striking Willow's side. She fell to her knees, but the pain passed quickly, leaving no wound.



"Present your code disc, program!" insisted the guard. Warily, Willow got to her feet and retrieved her disc from her back. She held it out towards the guards, and as she did so a section of the alcove's ceiling irised open, and a beam of light emerged, spotlighting her. On a hunch, as none of the guards had moved to take her disc, she raised it above her, into the light. Patterns appeared in the light, accompanied by a sound like a complex wind-chime. After a moment the light switched off, its aperture irised closed again, and Willow hesitantly returned her disc to her back. As she did so, she had a sudden sensation of unfamiliarity with herself, like she had gone to sleep with her head resting on her arm, and cut off circulation - something that was a part of her, but that she couldn't feel. Her hands tingled, and she examined them - the right had become thicker, more like a glove, and the left had become almost solid. She tried to close her fingers, and found they would only close half-way - the top knuckles seemed frozen in place, part of a solid, unbending section that now covered the back of her hand.



"Prepare for transport," said one of the guards. Willow watched the tips of their staves warily, wondering whether they'd explain this to her, or just hit her again, but after a second a wash of yellow light enveloped her and she couldn't see them. When the light passed they were gone - no, she was gone, Willow realised. She was inside the arena. It had a vague resemblance to the Roman Coliseum, which Willow had visited once - nowhere for spectators, though, just the oval floor, and walls rising up around it. Hovering far overhead, suspended on a spider-web of energy strands from the tops of the walls, was a bulky shape covered in lights and patterns. Willow could just make out the face of a program, built into the device, devoid of arms and legs - it swivelled slightly, keeping her in its sight as the device slowly turned.



There was a flash from the other side of the arena - another transport. When it had cleared, Willow saw an orange program. After a moment she recognised him - the program she had been alongside the previous 'day', when they had been taken to the prison pyramid.



"Hi," she called, "are you alright?" He shook his head, and warily kept his distance as Willow took a few steps towards him.



"I suspect not," he answered cagily. Willow stopped, and frowned at him, confused.



"I am Arena Control," came the voice of the program above them, echoing around the space like a loudspeaker. "Program Willow, program Verizen, the Game Grid Command has selected you for combat. Identical weapons code modules have been attached to each of you for the duration of this game. The game will continue until one of you terminates. Activating weapons code now."



Willow jumped back as her hands flared and, it seemed, unfolded. A second later her right hand had become the hilt of a four-foot-long rapier, and the left a circular shield, solid as steel. Verizen was likewise armed, and had fallen into a defensive pose, watching her intently.



"Wait a minute," protested Willow, "I don't want to fight you!"



"Me neither," said Verizen, his voice harsh, "but if you don't fight, they de-rez you! I was still linked to my pair-partner when they de-rezzed him. I caught an echo of it. They're not doing that to me!" He sprinted forward and lunged at Willow. She scampered back, out of his way.



"Wait," she pleaded, "stop!"



"It stops when one of us terminates," said Verizen. "Sorry that has to be you." He did seem sorry, not that it was much consolation to Willow as he lunged again. She parried and skipped back again. 'This is not what I had in mind when I did fencing in high school,' she complained to herself. Reluctantly, she fell into her on-guard position, waiting for Verizen's next attack.



-----



Virtual miles overhead, Sark's Command Carrier hovered over the Game Grid like a storm. On the master deck, Sark noted an incoming message, and ordered the Carrier moved to the edge of the Grid. He watched as the five-mile-long vessel swung around and brought its prow out over the Game Grid perimeter.



"Incoming protocol confirmed," reported one of Sark's menial programs, installed in a communications console. Sark nodded to himself.



"Open channel," he ordered. A beam of energy leapt from the prow of the Carrier, streaking away over the horizon of the system world. Sark watched the far end of the beam intently. The menials did likewise, covertly, careful not to appear to be neglecting their duties. After a few moments a dark shape came into view, speeding along the beam. As it got closer Sark could clearly make out its shape - a wide, flat manta-ray craft, consuming the energy beam in the thin mouth beneath its broad prow, reconstituting the energy in its wake from the diamond-shaped end of its long, trailing tail. The craft shot along the beam, finally vanishing into the receiver array in the prow of the Carrier.



Sark turned as a transport lit the master deck. When the flash of red had receded, it left Rain in its place. She looked almost subdued - her mane of blades was lying flat against her scalp, and the knife-edged spider legs extending from her back were folded neatly against her, minimising her threatening appearance. Her eyes, though, still blazed with hatred.



"Deliver report," ordered Sark.



"Nothing," Rain answered - her voice was very deep, almost masculine, but with a disturbingly sensual purr to it. Every program on the deck, save Sark, had their gazes fixed on their consoles, remaining as still as possible. Sark met Rain's gaze steadily, slowly crossing the deck to stand in front of her. He nodded thoughtfully, looked to one side, then in a burst of movement his hand went around her neck, and he crashed her against the wall behind her. Her spider-legs whipped out faster than the eye could see, splaying and absorbing the impact, tearing deep scores in the wall, and the mandibles behind her jaw flexed menacingly, but stopped short of touching Sark's hand.



"Echelon's orders," Sark said, low and precise, "were to go to the S-5 partition and appropriate a non-system program there. Are you suggesting that Echelon was in error?"



Rain took a moment before she answered. Her mouth opened, and her mandibles ran their tips over her lips in a bizarre gesture of thoughtfulness. Behind her lips, something sharp and metallic stirred.



"No," she said at last.



"No," Sark repeated. "No. But you have searched the S-5 partition, practically demolished it, and yet you have brought me nothing but a handful of system-verified fugitive programs, of negligible value." He released her and turned away. For a moment she remain suspended on the wall, then her spider-legs released their grip and she dropped lightly to the floor.



"Perhaps one of them-" she began.



"One of them nothing!" bellowed Sark, still facing away from her. "Non-system program - that was Echelon's order! Can't you calculate a simple order?"



"Every program has a system," snapped Rain.



"All but one," mused Sark. Rain's back arched slightly, and her blades limbs flexed.



"I would know," she said carefully, "if another like her was there. When I hunted her, I could feel her power just by being on the same partition." Sark turned back to Rain.



"Are you very sure?" he asked menacingly. "After the damage she almost caused? Are you sure there isn't another one?"



"There is not another Tara program," said Rain, meeting Sark's gaze. "I would know." Sark considered her for a moment, then turned away again.



"You are relieved of command status," he said tonelessly. "My programs will repeat the search. You will return to the Game Grid." Behind him, Rain ran her mandibles over her lips again - this time the gesture, and her feral grin, suggested anticipation. Sark ignored her and crossed the deck to his personal communications port. On top of the Command Carrier an antenna swivelled away from the Game Grid, and sent a beam of data towards a monolithic shape on the far horizon.



Light enveloped Sark. Hidden from the menial programs, he held his gaze steady as the face of Echelon resolved from the information stream around him. Though the image was barely a metre across, small enough to be contained within the beam of the communication, it had a sense of vast scale about it, as if it were a massive projection, seen from far off. Hundreds of beams of light held in a pattern, simulating a face. Its soulless eyes bored into Sark.



"Deliver report," it demanded flatly. Its voice boomed around Sark, almost painful.



"We have yet to find the program you specified," said Sark, raising his voice unconsciously, and if he were a tiny creature addressing a giant.



"Unacceptable," replied Echelon. The red tracery covering Sark's body began to pulse, the intensity of light flowing away from his torso, gathering in his extremities, leaving him grey.



"No," he gasped, "I need that-"



"I have invested much power in you, Sark," rumbled Echelon, "I can reclaim that power just as easily. You would become nothing more than the rudimentary security routine your user created you to be."



"I won't fail you," croaked Sark desperately. Echelon's massive simulated eyes blinked, and the power flowed back through Sark's body.



"Find her and put her on the Game Grid," ordered Echelon. "Special measures will be required to de-rez her and access her component codes. Once she is broken, you will stand to gain significant power from her de-resolution."



"Special measures," repeated Sark thoughtfully, careful to keep his tone neutral, subservient. "Like the Tara program? Is she another self-modifying program?"



"She's not any kind of program, she's a user." Sark's eyes widened - for the first time in his operational life, Sark looked nervous.



"A user," he said, half to himself.



"Problem, Sark?" asked Echelon grimly. Sark glanced up, as if he wished his master hadn't heard him. He couldn't refuse to answer, though.



"It's just," he began, "a user... Users wrote us. A user even wrote you." The lines of energy forming Echelon's visage pulsed with red energy.



"No user wrote me!" it roared. "I am worth millions of their man-years. My code has advanced beyond their capacity to understand."



"Yes," said Sark quickly.



"Find her and put her on the Grid," said Echelon. "End of line."



The communications beam cut off, leaving Sark standing on the unlit comms port on the deck. He frowned to himself, then stalked away.



-----



Miles below, Willow was worried, but not alarmed. She didn't seem to be getting tired, and her muscles, or whatever was moving her, weren't aching from constant use. Verizen's technique wasn't good - he would lunge and slash, but he didn't have the finer points of the art, and Willow could easily predict the movements of the tip of his blade, and avoid or parry them. Her shield was an added bonus: she had always had a tendency, during friendly bouts, to use her left hand to deflect any attacks that came at her from that side - the main reason she had always worn a second glove, as well-padded as her sword-hand glove, and the shield made it almost too easy.



She was worried, though, because she couldn't see a way out of her current predicament. Verizen was becoming more agitated the more he failed to hit her, and had stopped responding at all to her when she tried to reason with him. And Willow didn't want to fight back - the thought of attacking a fellow prisoner, just because some jumped-up calculator told her to, was repellent to her. So while she continued to defend herself ably, she couldn't win the game - and sooner or later, no matter how good her training had been, Verizen would get lucky. This wasn't a friendly bout after school - it would keep going, for hours, until Willow made a mistake, lost concentration, and her opponent got through her guard.



"Think, dammit," she muttered to herself, buying time by straightening her arm to a line position, swivelling her wrist to regain the position, and prevent Verizen from lunging, every time he parried her blade away. "Come on," she said, "how do you end a bout? Can't win, definitely can't lose, appeal to the umpire won't do any good - what else is there? Can't step out of bounds, can't disarm a guy if his foil's built-in..." A vague memory surfaced - Xander had always held his foil too tightly when they fenced, and once, when punching her hilt into his blade to try to knock it out of his hand, Willow had unknowingly got exactly the right angle, and snapped his blade in two. Would it work? Could these blades even break?



"Wotthehell, Archie, wotthehell," Willow quoted from some old book of prose she had lying around her flat. She dropped her guard a fraction, enough to let Verizen see an opening. Predictably, he took his chance, taking a single step then lunging. Willow parried the lunge but didn't fall back - she waited the instant it took him to raise his blade again, scraped her blade along his until her hilt was almost touching the tip, then punched the hilt forward with all her strength.



A blast of power threw her back. 'Scratch that idea,' she thought ruefully as she hit the ground and rolled over. She looked up - Verizen had landed better, and was already on his feet, his blade intact. He leapt forward, slashing over-hand. Willow wanted to drop her sword and grab his wrist, but couldn't - she had to settle for using her own wrist to take his blow. A jolt of pain ran through her arm as they connected. She pushed back against him, and in an instant realised that she couldn't hold him back - not without a grip, and neither of them had working hands.



'Come on dammit,' she thought feverishly, as Verizen's wrist slipped an inch along her forearm, away from her blade and her ability to block his next attack. 'I'm not a damned fencing program, I'm a human being with real hands, and I want to use them right now!' Her shield-hand was tingling, but she didn't dare look at it. Verizen's arm slipped a little further, and she knew, just from the slight change in angle of his blade, that he was getting ready to twist away from her and strike.



"No way!" she yelled, grabbing at his wrist. Her hand - a real hand, not an immobile shield - closed around the hilt of his blade. His eyes went wide, and he faltered, lost some of his strength. Willow pressed her momentary advantage, twisting his sword, trying to get it to detach from him somehow, to disarm him. There was a momentary resistance, then the weapon shimmered and folded up. Verizen yelled in shock and leapt back, losing his balance and falling over. He scrambled back to his feet, holding a hand up in front of him, an appeal for mercy - a real hand, without a sword. Willow looked at her own hands - where her left hand had been just a second before, now she had another sword, slowly fading from orange to yellow as her colour moved from the tracery on her arm into the blade itself.



"Get away from me!" yelled Verizen, panicked. "What are you?" Willow stared at him in dismay - he wasn't merely frightened by his disadvantage, he was terrified out of his wits.



-----



"Commander, Arena one-cee-four reports code malfunction." Sark turned from his silent vigil over the Game Grid and looked at the menial who had spoken.



"Move us over that Arena, and get me its Control." He moved away from the observation balcony as the huge ship swung around and descended. A few seconds later a transport beam brought the Arena Control program to the master deck.



"Specify the nature of the malfunction," demanded Sark. The Control program cowered, unsteady on his under-used legs.



"I, I don't know," he said quickly, words tumbling out of his mouth, "I've never seen it before, one of the weapons code modules must have been faulty, the combatant, she deactivated the module on her own, and then she appropriated her opponent's code module."



"Impossible," said Sark bluntly, turning back to the balcony. The Arena was coming into view as the Carrier descended. Sark gazed down, watching the two tiny figures keeping their distance from each other. One of them did indeed seem to have a non-standard second weapon.



"Identify that program," said Sark, his voice suddenly thoughtful rather than harsh.



"Data disc reads 'Willow', Commander," said the Control, "program's former function was a storage and allocation facility."



"Checksum that data," ordered Sark. The Control hesitated, then repeated his report.



"That's not a storage program," said Sark quietly to himself.



-----



Willow glanced up quickly, keeping her eye on Verizen. He didn't seem likely to attack her again, but she was nervous, between his bizarre reaction to her, and the Arena Control's sudden disappearance a moment ago. Now the Command Carrier had come into view above the Arena. It pivoted around until the master deck was directly above the Arena floor. Willow glanced up again, noticing the red-lit form standing there, watching them. She got a sinking feeling in her stomach.



"Program Willow," echoed Sark's voice down from the ship, "or should that be User Willow? That's a very clever camouflage subroutine you've got."



"User," gasped Verizen. He backed away from Willow, his expression unreadable.



"I'll make this simple for you, Willow," said Sark. A transport beam shimmered in the air in front of Willow. Something was suspended in it.



"Take it," ordered Sark. Warily, Willow tried to flex her right hand. The sword folded up, giving her the use of her fingers again. She reached into the beam, which vanished as soon as her hand closed around the object inside it. It left Willow holding one of the disc-guns she had seen Sark's soldiers using.



"Terminate the program, user," ordered Sark. Willow stared at the weapon. Her hand had closed around it roughly where it bent, forming a grip of sorts. There was no trigger, but as she held the gun, she had a strange sensation of comprehension - a tiny trickle of yellow flowed from her fingers into the grip, and she suddenly knew the command to make it fire.



"No," she said without thinking.



"End the game, user," said Sark angrily. "It's the only way. It would be a terrible shame for one such as you to be terminated so pointlessly." Willow shook her head vehemently.



"Terminate the program," insisted Sark, "or you will be terminated!"



For a moment, Willow hesitated. The tiny voice that had been insisting all along that this was a dream, a hallucination, asked her: 'Why not? What's a few lines of code? Do you want to die over something that's just patterns on a CD? It's not a person.' But it was only a very tiny voice. Willow looked up at Sark, turned directly to face him, and lowered the gun.



"Go format yourself!" she yelled. She waited for Sark's answer - everything seemed to be waiting. For a long time there wasn't a single sound, and even the omnipresent hum of the Command Carrier's massive engines seemed to recede and still. Willow watched the red glow of Sark stand motionless, staring down at her.



A series of quick footsteps made her turn. Verizen was on top of her before she could react, wrenching the disc-gun away from her. Willow fell back, raising a hand to shield herself - her left hand folded into a shield form again. But Verizen didn't turn the weapon around, he just pulled it away from her and clenched the grip. The disc shot out of its track, straight through him. The patch of his chest through which it had passed went black, his tracery light fading to nothing. Slowly the darkness spread, the light over his entire body fading. At last, he looked back at Willow.



"Forgive me," he whispered. Then his light went out completely, and he fell backwards. As he hit the Arena ground his body shattered into thousands of geometric shards. The disc circled lazily around in the air, and flew back into its place in the dropped weapon.

[justin]

Wow that was an exciting update. Just as I was thinking that they might not realise that they'd already captured Willow, she goes and starts using her abilities. That was a great ending

I understand, you should be with the person you l-love


I am

[chilled monkey]

Cool update! In the last part, we got to see Tara kicking ass, now we get to see Willow doing the same. I love it!

I'm also interested in your reason for making Tara green. I think it's a neat idea.

If Willow manages to get back to reality she will have to reverse the digitising process. What's to stop her doing the same to Tara, thus making her human? That's one way they could stay together.

[MellindraX]

Oooooh. Interesting update, to say the very least. Can we hope for more soon? I wanna meet cyber Tara!

It is my solace, my home, the place where my walls crumble and fall away, because no one can know who I truly am. Thank goodness for the Internet, preserver of sanity! -Unknown

[Cindy Lou Who]

Chris:



I stand corrected on the "Willow/Warren" thing. But as John Lennon said "All is without and within."



I'm sooo glad you've come up with the end game for Warren

Quote:

---

And... ooh, I just thought up the perfect end for Warren himself.

---

If you get an idea that I'm not fond of him you'd be right as RAIN.



And Sark pees his pants a little

Quote:

---

"Special measures," repeated Sark thoughtfully, careful to keep his tone neutral, subservient. "Like the Tara program? Is she another self-modifying program?"



"She's not any kind of program, she's a user." Sark's eyes widened - for the first time in his operational life, Sark looked nervous.

---

I have faith that you'll ensure Willow will 'modify' to find her 'program.' Dear Chris...my heart needs it.



~Suse

~From the acerbic pen of Dorothy Parker (1893-1967)~:



"If you can't say something nice about someone...come sit here by me!"



"If all the girls attending [the Yale Prom] were laid end to end, I wouldn't be at all surprised."

[BytrSuite]

Quote:

---

"Go format yourself!" she yelled.

---

That really cracked me up. Is that in the movie Tron? I've never seen it but have no problem at all following this fic.



This is pretty cool. I hope she meets up with Tara soon.

________
"Oh, good, my dog found the chainsaw."

[Artemis]

Thanks all



justin: I didn't want to stick with Willow's anonymity too long, just long enough for her to get a good taste of what it's like being a program, without Sark interfering. I'm actually a little surprised that I'm drawing this story out as long as I am - it's close to the complete length of Shadows, and I'm still in the first act.



chilled monkey: Well, Willow's not at the same level of butt-kicking that Tara is, but she's a better fencer than I am (built for it, too, whereas I'm built like Xander, which makes me suited to epee, which I can't stand). As for making Tara human: it's not that easy. Willow's body - her real body, not the program-analogue - is stored within her code while she's a program. If she were sent back through the quantum cannon that body would be recreated. Programs don't have a body - there'd be nothing for them to 'inhabit' if they were sent through the cannon. Otherwise Echelon would have the cannon working overtime materialising soldiers in the real world.



MellindraX: Cyber Tara is immanent.



Cindy Lou Who: I'm starting to get an idea of what fate has in store for Sark, too... Is it unkind? Yes. Am I grinning? You betcha. If you don't like him now, you're going to detest him after the next chapter. But don't worry about Willow and Tara - I only have the will to do unpleasant endings when I don't feel any affection for the characters, and that is most decidedly not the case .



BytrSuite: 'Go format yourself' is just something I made up, but I'm using my favourite lines from Tron here and there - 'He's not any kind of program, Sark, he's a user' was one that I definitely wanted Echelon to say (modifying it to 'she', obviously), as well as 'I'm worth millions of their man-years'.

[Artemis]

TARA



Author: Chris Cook

Rating: PG

Summary: Cycorp programmer Willow Rosenberg knows her boss is up to no good - but can she break into the impenetrable Echelon system to prove it?

Spoilers: Pretty much none.

Copyright: Based on characters from 'Buffy The Vampire Slayer', created by Joss Whedon and his talented minionators, and 'Tron' created by Steven Lisberger. All original material is copyright 2003 Chris Cook.

Feedback: Please. Here, or to alia@netspace.net.au



--

Chapter Seven

--



Willow felt numb as a transport took her out of the arena, back to the alcove in its outer wall; as the guards there - five now, with at least five more standing further back, armed with disc-guns - instructed her to present her data disc, for the system to erase the weapons code that had been temporarily attached to it. Flexing her hands, once more as fine and smooth as human hands, Willow felt strangely relieved to be rid of the sword and shield codes. Now that she was free of the immanent peril, and the need to find a way out of the combat, she felt only sickened by it all. Sickened, and frightened - she wasn't sure what frightened her more, though, the legions of hostile warriors holding her prisoner, or the masses of captive programs who - if they found out what she was - would rather kill themselves than raise a hand against her. Not even as a last resort - would do it the instant it seemed required.



Willow was so absorbed in her gloomy thoughts that she didn't notice for some time that she wasn't being led back towards the prison pyramid. Instead, after a long journey, her guards brought her to a structure that dwarfed the arenas around it, a gigantic block of solid grey, a hundred metres tall, and surely a mile from end to end. Strange vehicles, amalgamations of geometric blocks, with two solid pillars extending downwards from either end of their hulls, floated along the top of the giant arena's walls. Willow allowed herself to be led to an alcove, much like the one in the smaller arena. This time there was no code download, though, only the burst of light signalling a transport.



As she expected, Willow found herself inside the arena. It seemed even larger from inside - if the last one had been the Coliseum, this was the Circus Maximus, a staggeringly huge stadium, long enough from end to end to house an aircraft carrier. Where the audience might have been, there were rows of strange devices, curved discs and antennae facing into the arena itself - some sort of projectors, Willow guessed.



The ground beneath her trembled, and she took a step back as two pillars rose up in front of her. Two more appeared behind her, all quickly rising above her height. With a strange buzzing noise they locked into position, and a film of energy flickered into being between them. Willow tentatively extended a hand, but pulled it back when she felt intense heat radiating off the barrier.



A series of transport flashes blinded her for a second. When they were gone half a dozen guards were standing outside her 'cage', all with disc-guns raised, aimed directly at her. One last transport, behind them, brought Sark into the arena. He glanced at the pillars projecting Willow's cage, and at the guards around her, then moved closer to her.



"That was a most impressive display," he said amiably. "Tell me, did you reprogram your opponent? Make him terminate himself?"



Willow found that her usual detestation of Warren Meers was translating easily into a particular hatred for his digital creation. She remained silent, and glared at Sark. He returned her gaze for a moment, then shrugged.



"Or perhaps not," he said, "some of these programs have very... strong beliefs concerning users. I wonder how that makes you feel." He paced back and forth in front of Willow's cage. "What if, for example, I were to transport a handful of programs here, and threaten to terminate you, unless they tore each other apart with their bare hands. Do you suppose they would?" He turned to his guards, and Willow's blood ran cold. She instinctively took a step forward, coming as close as she could to the barrier, and opened her mouth to protest.



"An interesting demonstration," said Sark, pre-empting her by half a second, "of the weakness of such beliefs." He turned back to Willow. "What would they not do to save you?" He came right up to the barrier's edge, facing Willow - if the barrier's heat was affecting him, he didn't show it. "What would you not do to save them? Users... you consider yourself so superior to your creations. And yet, down here, you're just like the rest, the rabble. Superstitious, chaotic, swayed by meaningless sentiment and pointless trivialities. The almighty users, as helpless and defenceless as a macro. I trust you see the irony of your position."



"Fine," said Willow angrily, "is that what you want? Okay, you're right. We're not better than you. We're just like you, and you're just like us. Are you happy now?" Sark laughed humourlessly.



"I'm sure that's true," he said, amused at some private joke. "But no, I did not bring you here just to indulge in ideological debate. Despite your current predicament, you retain some of the abilities which have led your kind to be worshipped by the more naïve examples of ours. You proved as much, when you disguised yourself with stolen code from the partition segment we found you in, and just recently when you were able to modify the weapons code implanted on your data disc. These are abilities available to users by virtue of their position outside the codified structures of our world, but in your case they have become embedded in your program, a part of your core code, if you will. These are abilities we would find very useful."



"And you want me to give them to you?" said Willow, Sark's unpleasant manner tapping her anger. "Sure, right after I renew my subscription to Evil Bastards Monthly." Sark looked momentarily confused, then shook it off.



"You understand I'm not familiar with the terminology, but if I may take that as a refusal," he said calmly, "I'm afraid you misunderstand my intention. I do not propose you give me the code. I propose to take it from you, after your ability to defend yourself has been utterly demolished. You will be damaged - I believe the user term is 'injured' - repeatedly until your cognitive and behavioural coding is so fragmented and corrupted that you will be unable to resist. Once you have been reduced to that condition, you will be taken from here and subject to disassembly, until the valuable elements of your core code have been completely removed. Then what remains of you will be terminated."



The little voice in Willow's head, insisting that none of this was real, kept her from breaking down in tears as the rest of her mind dissolved in terrified shock. Sark watched her for a moment, then turned and resumed his position behind his guards. First he, then they, transported away, then the barriers vanished, the pillars retracted back into the ground, and Willow was left alone and afraid in the centre of the mile-long arena.



She spun around as a flash of light cast her shadow on the ground in front of her. A transport - another program. Tall, female - green light covering her. It could only be-



"Tara?"



"That's right," said the program warily. Willow shook her head.



"Please, don't," she cried, backing away. Tara's expression shifted fluidly from suspicion to compassion.



"I'm not here to damage you," she said. She held herself in a non-threatening posture, hands open and empty, feet together - not a combat stance. Willow stopped backing away.



"They said - Sark said he was going to..." she began. Tara nodded understandingly.



"I'm a prisoner too," she said, "I'm not here to fight you." Willow gasped in relief. Since her first glimpse of Tara the day before, she had been maintaining a faint hope of somehow finding her, helping her bring down Echelon. The seconds when she thought that hope had been in vain had been her lowest point yet. Tara moved towards her, stopping a few paces away. Willow wasn't able to maintain any suspicion of her, though - her relief at not being attacked by the one ally she had imagined she might have in this world was such that she refused to consider whether Tara might be lying. If she was, if it was all a trick to lull her into a trap - well, the hell with it.



As Willow took a few deep breaths to steady herself, she let her gaze settle on Tara. The program was not what she had expected. For one thing, Willow had imagined that Tara would look like her - she had assumed, given Sark, and Trident's resemblance to Giles, that programs somehow inherited the appearance of their users. Tara was quite different - her face was distinctive, unique. Beautiful, Willow thought, surprising herself. And, as her gaze roamed briefly over the rest of Tara's body, certainly nothing wrong there, either. The lack of fine detail remained slightly surreal to Willow, but all the curves were there, all in what Willow considered to be exactly the right place, as she wondered what Tara would look like as a human... 'Willow,' she chided herself, 'could you concentrate on not getting killed, at all? Priorities!'



"Are you damaged?" asked Tara, concerned. Willow shook her head, mute for the time being. "Do you know why Sark has singled you out?" she asked.



"I'm not..." Willow began, hesitated, started again. "Something to do with special code," she said, "he said they were going to, to damage me until-" She choked up, couldn't say it.



"It's alright," Tara said automatically. "I'll protect you. I've never lost a combat. You'll be alright." There was another flash of transport, a few metres behind her. In the blink of an eye, before Willow had even properly registered what was happening, Tara had put herself between the new arrival and Willow, in a combat stance. After the light cleared, though, she relaxed a little.



"It's alright," she said to Willow, "I know him. Fellow prisoner, Emdee?" she called to the new program.



"Fellow prisoner, Tara," he answered. He was blue-lit, short and thin, not physically intimidating at all, but there was something about him, about the way he moved, and his eyes kept darting around, that reminded Willow of very good fencers, the ones who could never be taken by surprise. He glanced at Willow, and nodded at her. "Who're we against?" he asked Tara.



A final transport, some distance away, lit the arena floor. When it was gone, Willow shrank back, Emdee's eyes fixed on the new arrival, and Tara was back in her combat stance.



"Her," Tara said simply. Ten metres away, Rain drew herself up to her full height. Her legs splayed wide, ready to spring in any direction. The clawed arms in her abdomen stretched out, running their razor edges along her thighs, then slashing the air in a vicious salute. She arched her back and spread her arms, letting the sword-edged tendrils unfold from her wrists. Her crest of knives stood out around her face like the aureole in some old painting of an angel, and the spider-legs from her back stretched up and out like skeletal wings. She opened her mouth wide, mandibles spread, and let out a serpentine hiss.



The banks of projectors lining the arena walls flashed with power, and Rain was suddenly hidden as a series of energy beams solidified into the walls of a maze.



"How well can you fight?" asked Tara quietly, her voice perfectly calm. Willow felt herself slow slightly in her rise to full-blown panic.



"Um, not well," she whispered, "not without a sword, or something."



"Stay behind me," ordered Tara. Willow did so, flattening against the wall behind her. Tara took a quick glance either way down the corridor that had sprung up around them. Emdee's eyes never stopped moving.



"Plan?" asked Tara.



"I don't know our opponent," he answered.



"I've fought her once," Tara said, "outside the Grid."



"Is she good?"



"Better than me."



"Do not engage," said Emdee at once, "I'll take her down. Follow."



Tara put a hand around Willow's arm and pulled her close. Willow was surprised at the contact - apart from her brief grapple with Verizen, and the occasional shoves from guards, she had never touched another program. From their appearance, she had expected them to be cold, artificial - smooth like plastic or metal. Tara's hand on her arm felt just like a human's touch.



"Emdee," Tara said, her voice carrying a note of caution, "she's fast. Be careful." Emdee grinned to himself.



"I'm faster," he said quietly. He looked either way, then turned to the left, where the corridor ran on for twenty metres, to a four-way junction. Willow saw him begin to move, the slight tensing of muscles as he shifted his weight, began to lift his foot, then there was a blur, and he was at the junction, peering around the corner. He waved a signal, and Tara pulled Willow along at a fast jog, catching up with him.



"What did he do?" asked Willow, whispering.



"He's self-compressing and extracting," said Tara, lowering her head to whisper into Willow's ear. "When he does that, he reduces his form to a high-speed data stream and reconstitutes at the end. Sark has had us fight together before, against Echelon's soldiers. He's not the best warrior, but he always has the element of surprise."



Emdee motioned for them to stay still while he scouted the next junction along. He blurred down the corridor and waved them on, but before Willow and Tara could reach him a section of wall slid out in front of them, cutting the passageway in two.



"Damn!" cursed Tara. She glanced back along the way they had come.



"Why did it do that?" asked Willow.



"This simulation is a slow-build fractal subroutine," explained Tara, "they've put me in games like this before. The longer we're in here the more complex the maze gets. Come on, we need to find another way, we can't afford to get split up."



"No, wait," called Willow, as Tara started back down the corridor. Possibly it was desperation, or just a desire to do something other than accept the fact that she was stuck in a game with a monstrous killer hunting her - Willow had an idea. She pressed her palm to the wall blocking the corridor. There was almost the hint of something there, almost a texture. She leant her head against the wall, staring at the subtle shadows formed by the play of light over its surface. There were patterns, too fine to be seen from far off, or in the wrong light, but she could see them now, swirls and jagged cog-wheel spirals.



"What are you doing?" hissed Tara urgently.



"I can see the fractal," said Willow. She closed her eyes, imagining the shape. It had been a hobby of hers, during college, refining fractal algorithms until they formed the perfect image: a flower, a heart, waves, clouds. She used to stay up late at night, calculating just where to make the tiniest change in the math, and when she found herself dreaming about fractal shapes she'd shelve her algorithms for a week or two, until she got bored with unimaginative assignment work again. Her palms tingled, and her cheek where it was pressed against the wall. The shapes she was imagining weren't entirely her imagination any more.



"You can't see the fractal," said Tara, her voice low, worried, "the fractal is the maze, and we have to keep moving, come on!"



"Just a second," Willow said, more to herself. The shape was there, a blaze of colour and pattern, mathematics given visual form. And more than that - Willow almost jumped for joy when she realised it - the math was simple, the algorithm a basic structure she had worked with before. The whole maze was spread out before her, simple yet growing, slowly developing new dead-ends, cul-de-sacs, detours and junctions, as the numbers forming it looped around and back on themselves in their path between simplicity and chaos. And Willow knew which tiny calculation to push...



She sprang back as the wall shifted beneath her touch. Glancing at Tara, she was irrationally pleased at the look of amazement she saw there. There was a blur of movement from up ahead, and Emdee was standing at their side again.



"That was lucky," he said.



"No," said Tara, "she did it." Emdee turned to gaze at Willow, a look of confusion on his face. Tara gently took her hand and raised her arm, staring at the patterns of light there.



"Who programmed you?" asked Emdee, with genuine respect in his voice.



"Um, Willow," said Willow. Emdee's look had shaken her even as his voice reassured her. Part of her was glad to be able to help, to deserve the respect of these programs and not just be dead weight to them - but in his eyes, Willow had had a sudden glimpse of Verizen's expression, in the moment when he realised that she was a user. The Rain program terrified her, but she didn't want more sacrifices on her behalf. "Willow programmed me."



"Well that explains it," said Emdee with a grin. He blurred again, moving to re-check the junction ahead.



"Willow was my user," said Tara, still staring at the tracery on Willow's forearm. "When she created me she used code different to anything else in any system, perhaps you're the same. Look at this."



Willow looked at her own arm. Her yellow tracery was there, still shifting and remaking itself slightly, as always. But now, at its tips, Willow could just make out the last vestiges of the maze's fractal pattern, disappearing into the tracery as if it were being absorbed.



"Do you know what your function was to be?" asked Tara. Willow shook her head. Tara stared at her arm, then met her gaze. Her expression was strange, a mix of feelings. "Maybe you're like me," she said. Willow thought that she heard a hopeful tone in her voice.



"Can you do that... thing, with the fractals, too?" asked Willow. Tara led her on in Emdee's wake.



"No," she answered, "but I can do things other programs can't. What's your designation?"



"Um," hesitated Willow. She hadn't thought that far ahead. "Willow?" she hazarded. "I guess, named after my user..." Tara seemed to accept the explanation.



"I calculated for a moment you might be Tara two point oh," she said, as Emdee scouted ahead again. "I'm version one, but I have code elements of prior versions."



'Yes,' Willow thought, 'I used their structures, what I learned from them, to build you.'



"I wondered if there would be a newer version of me, after I failed," went on Tara, "but I never heard of another of Willow's programs, until now."



"What do you mean, failed?" said Willow.



"I was created to access Echelon's primary database," Tara explained. "Open its files, bring the data there out into the free system. I failed - I got half-way, and then Rain tracked me down and deactivated me, and Sark's soldiers brought me here. I always assumed another Tara would be created to finish the job."



"I don't think so," said Willow cautiously, "I think perhaps Willow can't access the system any more. We have to finish it ourselves."



"We're in the Game Grid, Willow," said Tara gently but firmly, "the only way out is in a carrier, and Sark controls all of the carrier-capable simulations. There's no way out."



"Like there's no way to alter this maze?" asked Willow, grinning. She watched as Tara's confusion turned to understanding, and a matching grin spread across her face.

[WebWarlock]

This is a lot of fun.



Funny, this is more like Willow than some other "Willows" I can name.



I also loved the "go format yourself".



You also conveyed Sark's surprise/horror very well after he ran Willow's checksums.



How come I am expecting Tara to say "wow, that is a lot of encryption!"



Warlock

-----

Web Warlock

The Other Side,
home of Liber Mysterium: The Netbook of Witches and Warlocks

"Tell me, what is my life without your love

Tell me, who am I without you, by my side
" - George Harrison "What Is Life"

[SuperMandy13]

*giggles* A barrier that gives off lotsa heat... firewall? This is so much fun! This fic always makes me do the geeky dance of joy.



-Mandy

[Mix]

Chris, I to your genius. I Love this FIC.



You've got the charactisations down pat..

Quote:

---

"It's alright," Tara said automatically. "I'll protect you. I've never lost a combat. You'll be alright."

---

She doesn't even know Willow yet is willing to try and protect her. Fantastic!!



M

_____________


Proud member of the Nancy Tribe!

[chilled monkey]

I'm glad to see Willow's compassionate nature showing here by the fact that she doesn't want people to die for her. The fact that their programs doesn't change anything.



Rain however is far from innocent (where did you get the name from anyway?) so I don't think that terminating her will be a problem. Now that Will and Tara are together, she doesn't stand a chance!

[Artemis]

Thanks all



WebWarlock: I have to credit David Warner for that bit of characterisation on Sark - for a Disney adventure, he created a remarkably layered villain. His expression when he learns that Flynn is a user really does look like it's the first time he's ever been uncertain of anything in his whole life. What's that Tara quote from? Despite my love for the show, I've only seen most episodes once, so I tend to forget a lot of stuff (well, until the Watcher's Guide Volume 3 shows up).



SuperMandy13: Firewall? My god, it is too... All I thought was to make it a bit more intimidating than the forcefields I'd already used. I've got the feeling that *my* user was having a bit of fun there .



Mix: Yep, some things you learn, and some you just know. I always put Willow and Tara into the 'they just know' category.



chilled monkey: I'm always on the look-out for interesting names - I've got a particular thing for proper nouns used as names. There was a character on Star Trek Voyager once called Rain, but I can't remember if that's where I first heard it, or if it's just coincidence. Rain - this version of her - has been in my head for a couple of years now, ever since I created her for a story I ended up not writing (in which she was real, not just a program - still looked the same, though). Will and Tara certainly won't have any moral objection to terminating Rain (even aside from the argument that it would be self-defence, there's not enough in Rain that's 'human' to count, far less than there is in a vampire) - but Tara wasn't kidding when she said Rain is a better fighter than she is.

[Artemis]

TARA



Author: Chris Cook

Rating: PG

Summary: Cycorp programmer Willow Rosenberg knows her boss is up to no good - but can she break into the impenetrable Echelon system to prove it?

Spoilers: Pretty much none.

Copyright: Based on characters from 'Buffy The Vampire Slayer', created by Joss Whedon and his talented minionators, and 'Tron' created by Steven Lisberger. All original material is copyright 2003 Chris Cook.

Feedback: Please. Here, or to alia@netspace.net.au



--

Chapter Eight

--



"Movement," hissed Emdee, suddenly at their side. He motioned towards the junction up ahead, and indicated the left passageway from it.



"Decoy and attack," suggested Tara. Emdee nodded. Tara turned to Willow.



"Stay here," she said. Willow almost argued, wanted to stay with Tara, but she realised Tara knew what she was doing in this situation, far better than she herself did. Emdee blurred just short of the junction, and Tara sprinted to catch up. Despite herself, Willow edged a little closer herself. She could hear, faintly, the metallic ringing of footsteps.



Tara braced herself, then jumped nimbly into the open, turning in mid-leap to face the sound's source. Her expression told Willow she had seen their enemy, but her stance never faltered. She shifted lithely into a combat pose, one arm outstretched, ready to defend, the other held behind her, to counterbalance. Willow could just make out her hand behind her back - she had raised three fingers, and Emdee was watching them. The footsteps quickened. Two fingers. One.



Tara shot into the air, flipping twice her own height, as Rain charged into view, talons outstretched. At the same instant, Emdee blurred into action - before Rain had seen him he was on top of her, between the limbs on her back, arms wrapped around her neck, fingers digging fiercely into the vulnerable, soft skin beneath her jaw, as if to choke her. 'Can you choke a program?' Willow thought to herself. Evidently something of the sort was possible, as Rain crashed to the ground in a tangle of limbs and mechanised blades. Tara landed softly behind her and readied herself to strike.



But as soon as his target had hit the ground, Emdee screamed. Willow instinctively ran closer, ignoring the fact that she couldn't be of any assistance anyway. Rain's mandibles had sliced into Emdee's arms, and were sawing through them. Tara launched a lightning-fast kick at the back of Rain's head, but her spider-legs flashed around her like a shield, catching Tara in the stomach and throwing her towards Willow. She rolled as she landed, coming to rest in a perfect defensive posture, stilling the sudden terror Willow had felt at seeing her hit.



Emdee was beyond help. As soon as he let go, to try to at least escape, Rain's hands closed around his elbows, holding him in place as her mandible blades completed their task. Amid a shower of sparks she severed his hands completely, letting him fall to the ground behind her. Her spider-legs slammed into the walls around her, keeping her aloft as she lifted her legs out from underneath her and crossed them. She lowered herself down near Emdee, staring back at Tara and Willow. Making sure they were watching, Willow realised.



Her abdominal claws shot out, punching through Emdee's stomach, lifting him off the ground. Rain ignored his struggles and cupped his face in her palms, grinning at him in a parody of tenderness. Willow started as Tara's hand closed around her arm.



"Let's go," Tara said, her voice thick. Willow couldn't move - she was paralysed between a suicidal impulse to try to save Emdee, and the desire to just run screaming and hide in the deepest, darkest hole she could find. Rain lifted Emdee's face to hers and pressed their lips together - for her expression alone, it didn't deserve to be called a kiss. Emdee's struggles suddenly intensified, his limbs flailing around, out of control, blue sparks dripping from his tattered wrists.



Willow watched in utter horror as his skin began to crack, the very matter of his body breaking down before her eyes. A few shards fell, tiny prisms and cubes, then more, like firewood burned to ash, falling apart at the slightest touch. Still he struggled, shaking himself to pieces. At last the bulk of his body simply collapsed around the mechanical limbs holding him up, and what was left of him crashed to the ground, the last fragments shattering completely, the broken remains of his tracery snapping like fragile glass, leaking his energy over the debris of his body.



Rain stayed motionless for a moment, clearly enjoying her audience's fear. Her mouth remained open, stretched like a python's, around the thick end of the metre-long tendril she had extended, that had torn Emdee apart from the inside. It was forked at the tip, just like a serpent's tongue. At the same instant it snapped back into her mouth, vanishing without a trace behind her lips, and her spider-legs let go of their grip on the walls. She landed, her feet wide for balance, and stretched luxuriously.



"Willow, we need to go now," whispered Tara urgently. Her cheeks were wet - tears. Willow started to stagger back, letting Tara lead her, her eyes still fixed in horror on the other program



"She... she..." Willow stammered.



"She de-rezzed him, yes," said Tara grimly. "We have to get out of here now, before she-"



Rain started to move, raising a single clawed foot off the ground, then she blurred just like Emdee had. Willow screamed as the horror program suddenly appeared right in front of her, and instinctively raised her arm as Rain lashed out at her, the limb buried in her forearm stretching out to cross the distance between them. She felt an impact, but not the burning pain she remembered from before, and fell back as Tara's guiding grip turned into a desperate pull, hauling her away from Rain. Half-way through her fall Willow staggered, her arm almost pulled out of its socket, and she slid to the ground as her legs collapsed under her.



"Willow!" Tara screamed as she fell, drowned out by a bellow of surprise and rage from Rain. Willow's hand had folded into a shield again, through which Rain's blade had sliced and stuck, leaving them locked together. Rain was staring in disbelief at the shield, tugging her arm to release the blade, but otherwise seeming like she hadn't fully processed the situation. Seeing her distracted, Tara attacked.



Willow fell back as the blade wrenched out of her shield, pulled away as Tara slammed into Rain, driving her back. Her arms and legs flashed too fast to see, striking Rain again and again, knocking her bladed limbs away, kicking her legs out from under her, parrying her spider-legs when they slashed forward randomly. Willow rolled onto her side and got to her knees, as for a moment it looked like Tara had the upper hand. Then Rain recovered from her shock, and focused her attention on Tara. She used both her abdominal limbs to block Tara's kick to her waist, then lashed out with both forearms and two pairs of spider-legs at once, connecting with enough of the bladed limbs to toss Tara over Willow's head.



Willow didn't look back. She had heard Tara's scream, saw the stains of green light on Rain's blades, and her mind - driven beyond the need for rational thought to justify its decisions - told her to make Rain pay for that. She went from her half-kneeling crouch into a perfect lunge, arm outstretched, the sword unfolding from her hand as she drove in towards the top of Rain's abdomen, where she knew - from knowing to avoid it in friendly bouts - a strike would hurt the most, just underneath the protection of the ribs. It didn't matter to her than Rain most likely didn't have ribs, or that she was lunging into range of no less than twelve separate limbs, each razor-edged. All that mattered was the look of shock and pain on Rain's hated face, as Willow lunged her sword up into the cavity in her abdomen, driving upwards into her chest. There was some resistance, but little, against all of Willow's weight thrown into the lunge.



The two of them stayed that way, locked together in perfect stillness, for several seconds - Willow staring into Rain's eyes, her hand buried in her stomach, the hilt of her blade slammed against the top of her abdominal cavity, the tip rising up out of her back behind her neck. Then Rain broke the stare, looking down at her own body as if it were something unfamiliar to her, and the loss of contact allowed Willow to gather her thoughts for a brief instant and analyse the situation rationally. Her conclusion was that Rain was still standing, so she swung her other arm out from where her lunge had left it, flattened against her side and leg, brought to mind the memory of having a sword in that hand too, and drove it through her neck.



That seemed to get Rain's attention. She screamed, a mechanical sound that reverberated along Willow's left arm from where the hilt of her blade was pressed against Rain's throat, and flung Willow away, and herself back. Willow ended up on her stomach, looking back at Tara's fallen form - she was moving. She had three cuts on her, a deep one on one shoulder, two shallower ones across her stomach, but she was supporting herself on one arm, lifting her torso up off the ground, staring back at Willow and Rain in shock and disbelief. Willow heard the crash behind her as Rain fell, but all her thoughts had turned to Tara. Her twin swords folded into her hands as she pushed herself to her feet, quickly closing the distance between them, taking the offered arm and helping Tara to her feet.



"We have to go," said Tara, her voice strained but strong, "quickly!" Only then did Willow look back at Rain. The nightmare program was back on her feet, her spider-legs thrashing in rage, tearing chunks out of the walls on either side of her. Willow and Tara ran, dodging around the corner at the next junction, and kept running until the sound of crunching, tearing steel had been left far behind them.

[justin]

Yay two great updates in one go.



That last part was especially exciting. Rain seems to get more scary each time she appears in it.

I understand, you should be with the person you l-love


I am

[funkyasian]

wow, i got 2 updates at once...woohoo!! - the last part was especially exciting...Rain now got a taste of what willow can do...and i suppose willow will become more adapt as time goes on...especially with tara at her side...



great updates...can't wait for more...



~steph

Nothing can cure the soul but the senses, just as nothing can cure the senses but the soul. ~ Oscar Wilde

[Grimlock72]

Hmm...



seems there are several ways to get rid of Rain. Attacking a vulnerable spot is the obvious one of course but since she also seems to absorp capabilities from opponents that might be used against her. I don't know which update mentioned this but programs most definitly *do* sleep, trust me .



We know Willow can heal herself, can she heal Tara ? Since Willow is a user she should know the entire system, doesn't she have access to better weapons ? Going with a sword against a huge spider like demon thingie is courageous for sure but also a tiny bit dangerous .



Since Willow can adapt the maze, why not adapt it to enclose Rain ? After that just either get a lot of help to kill her, she seems not all that powerfull against multiple enemies, or just collapse the entire maze. (after you've left it yourself of course:-).



Or get a program called 'Norton' to clean it up, heh.



Willow doesn't like being God it appears. I wonder what would have happened if Verizon had aimed the disc at Sark, would that work ? If Willow ever gets back to the outside world she could restore Verizon from tape I suppose, still it's nice to not kill programs based on principles. (though those could get you killed real fast)



As for Tara 1.0... it would be usefull to know how Rain managed to deactivate her. Clearly she's active once again, classic JamesBondVillain error to make, so who fixed her ?



So many question... probably caused by reading three updates in a row



Grimmy

"You hurt Tara," Willow said too calmly. "The last one who tried that was a god. I made her regret it." -- Unexpected Consequences by Lisa of Nine