Tron Legacy the Junior Novel - Alice Alfonsi [7]
Without wasting any time, the Judge Sentry began pronouncing sentence on every captured program: “I sentence you to the games…I sentence you to the games…I sentence you…” He went from one to the other without hesitation.
Most programs accepted their fate meekly, as if they were already doomed. But some were not as quiet.
“Not the games!” shouted one frightened program. He broke away from the Sentries and ran screaming to the rail. Sam watched in horror as the program hurled himself off the platform to the ground far below.
A moment later, the judge approached Sam.
This was his chance. He had to explain the situation and get out of here. He didn’t belong here.
“Look,” Sam began to tell the judge, “I know you probably get this a lot. But there’s been a mistake. I need to talk to somebody—”
But the judge cut Sam off with a simple pronouncement: “I sentence you…to the games.”
THE JUDGE HAD SPOKEN. Sam was taken away and tossed into a room with four life-size statues of women. He blinked in astonishment when the beautiful “statues” came to life. They were Sirens from his dad’s game! Their white unitards glowed alluringly, and they looked as though they had been carved from pure marble.
“Uh,” Sam said, “can somebody tell me what—”
The one Sam assumed was the leader—lifted her finger. The tip glowed with a stark white light. The Siren touched his lips, and Sam fell silent. Then she ran the finger along his chest, and the light cut his clothes away, as if it were a surgeon’s scalpel.
“Whoa!” Sam protested.
The Siren ignored him as two others returned bearing formfitting armor. They touched the plates to Sam’s legs, torso, and arms. The armor clung to his flesh as if magnetized.
Then the Siren raised her glowing finger again.
“This can’t be good,” Sam said.
She ran her finger along Sam’s armored joints, sealing them and trapping him inside. Arcs of plasma surged through the plating. Sam’s newly electrolyzed flesh tingled.
Finally, another beautiful Siren approached Sam. She carried a circular metal disc the size of a dinner plate. Silently, she inserted the disc into a groove on the back of Sam’s armor.
Sam’s head felt like it was going to explode. And rightfully so. Unbeknownst to him, a powerful processor inside that disc had begun downloading the contents of his mind.
“Mirroring complete,” the disc Siren droned. “disc activated and synchronized. Proceed to the games.” She stepped back into the shadows and froze, statuelike once more. The two others joined her, and all three became motionless again.
Sam faced the head Siren. “What do I do?” he asked.
For a moment, it looked as though she might be sympathetic, as though she might actually help Sam get out of this waking nightmare. But then she spoke. Her answer was one word: “Survive.”
A door opened and the floor moved, carrying Sam forward and then straight up a dark chute. He rose and when he could see again, he was in the middle of a vast arena.
Looking around, Sam realized he was standing on a raised platform—one of eight. The platforms were huge circles. Each was separated by a deep abyss. Sam looked down into the black pit beside him. He couldn’t see the bottom.
Thunderous applause greeted Sam’s arrival. Scanning the arena, he saw thousands of programs sitting in the stands. They weren’t just clapping for him. They were clapping for all the contestants—and there were sixteen of them.
The competing programs eyed one another. Some seemed used to their surroundings, and Sam guessed they were vet-erans of the games. His suspicions were confirmed when those programs dropped into a crouch, waiting for play to begin. The frightened newcomers, on the other hand, shifted nervously. Sam quickly mimicked the seasoned players and dropped into a crouch, too.
Just then, a robotic voice boomed: “The Leader has signaled the start of the games.”
Leader? What leader? Sam thought.
Cheers erupted from the audience, and Sam focused. Across the court, his opponent pulled the disc from the back of his armor. A helmet