Tron

had been printed out for Flynn. There would be no way to hide it now, he knew, nor any way to refile it under limited access. The Master Control Program was no longer running, as if it had been utterly destroyed—by what means, he had no idea. And Bradley’s Tron program was running.

Dillinger’s superdesk told him that Flynn and the others were already manipulating the ENCOM system. Soon enough, Gibbs and the rest would be down on Dillinger’s neck. His career over, the criminal implications of what he’d done only now coming through to him, he ignored the coming of daylight in the moribund silence of his office.

The black executive helicopter circled down from the blue sky toward the landing pad on the roof of the ENCOM building. Lora and Alan squinted into the blades’ backwash as a ground crewman held the chopper’s door open.

Out jumped Flynn; grinning broadly, he’d just returned from concluding a major multinational agreement much in ENCOM’s favor. He had on a natty double-breasted suit, but had chosen to wear his running shoes.

Y’know, those two don’t look too bad together, he thought, as Alan and Lora ran to meet him. He hoisted his attache case in triumph. When they’d exchanged greetings, Alan said, “Dillinger wants to talk to you; he says it’s all a mistake.” He had to yell to be heard over turning rotors.

ENCOM’s new Senior Operating Officer smirked. A number of lettered agencies were lined up, indictments in hand, for a crack at Edward Dillinger. Flynn shook his head. “Can’t; bad for the corporate image.” Alan smiled, somewhat like a wolf.

They fell in behind him as Flynn headed for the elevator. “Besides,” he finished, “I’m beat.”

“Hey,” Lora protested, “you’ve got an executive board meeting.”

Flynn turned his smile on them both again; Alan’s arm around her shoulders seemed the most appropriate thing in the world. He slipped them a wink. “This is the executive board meeting!”

High over the System soared the Solar Sailer, cruising above the glittering beauty of the radiant Domains and the phosphorescent tides of the Game Sea.

Tron stood on the bridge with his arm around Yori. The Sailer changed transmission beams and came onto another tack as the Bit shot past them, playing and cutting figure eights, zipping along next to the graceful Sailer, over a System ablaze, a free System.

Copyright

A Del Rey Book

Published by Ballantine Books

All rights reserved under International and Pan-American Copyright Conventions. Published in the United States by Ballantine Books, a division of Random House, Inc., New York, and simultaneously in Canada by Random House of Canada Limited, Toronto.

Sale of this book without a front cover may be unauthorized. If this book is coverless, it may have been reported to the publisher as 'unsold or destroyed' and neither the author nor the publisher may have received payment for it.

ISBN 0-345-30352-0

First edition June 1982

MANUFACTURED IN THE UNITED STATES OF AMERICA