by Axie Oh
There’s no lag between my use of the controls and the GM’s performance of them. I sweep my hand diagonally across the orb and the GM cuts through the air in a diagonal motion. I twist the orb, and the GM spins around, its arms automatically ready as if to block an attack from behind. With a GM like this, I’ll be able to counter attacks from all sides. Whether or not I’m quick enough will be on me, not the GM.
I spend the rest of the prep time getting used to the controls, keeping an eye on my surroundings.
Tsuko shoots a warning shot from the ground, signaling the start of the demonstration, before taking off himself. The DX-100 has double jet packs due to its substantial heft.
I turn on the vid-link between the GMs, and Tera pops up on my screen. Tsuko must have disabled his connector, because I don’t receive a visual of him.
“Nice wings,” I say.
Her gaze flits downward to the image of me appearing on her screen. She smiles. “Watch this.” The Extension spins in the air, flaring out its wings.
“Show-off.”
The official from before appears on screen to inform us that “the demonstration will commence shortly. Please follow the agenda.” On my right screen, a docket for the demonstration materializes. It’s a simple evade-and-destroy, in which we’ll fly through a maze, avoiding gunfire from shuttle bots and destroying targets. The purpose is to demonstrate the abilities of the GMs in a controlled environment.
I’m up first. “See you on the flipside,” I say, and then accelerate into the maze.
Immediately panels open up in the steel walls, releasing mini bots that begin to pummel me with lasers. I dodge about eighty-five percent of their shots, picking off the red flags that stick out of the maze with my power rifle. It’s actually pretty fun. GMs, in general, are fun to pilot. They’re just purposed to kill people, which makes them terrible toys.
I’m almost through the last turn when something clips me in the side, close to the chest. My whole GM shakes in the aftermath. Whatever hit me, it’s too powerful to be a bot. I look through my rearview cameras to see Tsuko in the DX-100, advancing like a tank, the barrel of his huge beam cannon aimed at me.
Tera’s coming up behind him, fast. “Tsuko!” she screams.
He releases the beam, and I manage to dodge out of the way, but not without taking a hit in the shoulder. My bot sparks, but I’m still airborne, my jet pack intact.
Tera rams into Tsuko from behind, shoving him against the wall of the maze. “Dammit, Tsuko,” she says. “Don’t do this.”
He might have turned off his visual link, but not his audio. I can hear his crackling response. “If he’s gone, maybe you’ll come to your senses. You must know that you can have no future with him, so why are you giving into such a false hope? A hope like his is cruel. Can’t you see that? The more you care for him, the more it will hurt you when he leaves. And it is inevitable that he will leave when his time in the Tower is through. Let go of your dreams, Tera. They’re not real.”
I’m about to interject my own thoughts — that he’s wrong, that her hope in me isn’t false, that I won’t let it be — but she answers first. “I’m not dreaming,” she says. “I’m awake.” She grabs his GM’s arm, the one that holds the beam cannon, and rips it off at the shoulder. She then grabs his boosters at the back of the DX-100, rips them off as well, and drops him. As his GM falls, Tsuko ejects out the back with a parachute.
Damn.
I wonder what the sponsors make of this. We’ve definitely gone off the agenda. I zoom into the stands only to see the majority aren’t paying attention to us. Their eyes are on the sky.
33
Second Promise
Heat signatures from above. Three of them. A beam, like the one from the DX-100, shoots downward to explode one of the three GM hangars surrounding the factories. The viewing stands erupt into chaos as sponsors rush to their transport ships.
Tera flies her GM beside mine. “We’re under attack,” she says. “Should we engage?”
“Well, technically, we’re not under attack. The facilities are.” Another beam from the sky, this one directed at Tera and me. We break apart, and it slides between us to hit the maze. Pieces of the maze crumble off. “Ah, never mind.”
“Engaging.” Tera accelerates into the sky. “Back me up.”
Beneath us, Tsuko reaches the ground, where he clips off his parachute and sprints toward the GM hangars. Soon he’ll be in the air again, more prepared — and furious — than before.
I lift my rifle to my shoulder, sighting one of the enemy GMs and trailing it with my scope. All three of the attacking GMs are MK-19s, but without the upgrades and with mismatched weapon sets, which explains how one carries a beam cannon. I almost feel bad for these guys. I don’t know what their agenda is here today, but I’m sure they didn’t imagine they’d battle an Enhanced soldier. I figure I’ll just clip one in the wing, bring it down to decrease the chance of causalities. We’ve still got civilians on the ground, and it’d be better to capture the pilots alive.
I get a clean shot on one of the GMs, but I stop before firing. Something niggles at the back of my mind, Young’s earlier warning to stay away from the reclamation fields. He might have known about this attack and didn’t want me involved. But why would he care? What could the Kings, a small upstart gang, gain by taking out the GM hangars? It’s more of an operation suited for UKL operatives.
I lift the rifle and once more sight one of the GMs through my crosshairs. Tera runs circles around them, not engaging in a direct assault. I lower my rifle.
“What’s wrong?” she asks, appearing at the bottom of my screen.
“I need to check something. Can you distract them for a few seconds?”
“Distract three GMs by myself?”
“Yes.”
She grins. “Easy.”
I pull out my phone and dial Young. Again, he doesn’t answer.
I was an amateur hacker for my gang when I was thirteen. I exercise those unused brain muscles now, trying to hack into the communications link between the enemy GMs. I try different codes until finally I get static.
“Ay, boss,” says a familiar voice. I groan. “What’s with this guy and his skinny bot?”
“Jeon Daeho,” Young responds. “Focus. Stick to the plan.”
“You mean, the plan of not dying?”
“We only took out one of the hangars. There are two more.”
“Ah, right.”
I close the link. “Tera.”
“Jaewon?” she answers, looking concerned. “What’s wrong?”
“It’s Young.”
“Young?” She frowns. “As in your estranged best friend?”
“Not estranged anymore, but yes. It’s him and two of our friends.”
“That’s not good,” she says, the understatement of the year.
I can’t risk bringing them down. They’d be arrested in a flash. But soon Tsuko will arrive with reinforcements. I rack my brain on how to get out of this with the best outcome — Young and his boys free, and Tera and I not facing charges of treason.
“Can you reach him?” Tera asks.
They’re shooting at Tera as she talks to me. She easily dodges the bullets.
“Yeah, one sec.”
I open up the communications to Young. “Ya, jasik-ah!” I shout. “What are you doing here?”
There’s a pause. “Jaewon-ah? Lee Jaewon? Didn’t I expressly tell you not to be here?”
“I was called in to do a demonstration for the GM corps’ latest models.”
“Ay,” Young groans. “Just my luck. If I’d known there would be a demonstration, I obviously would not be doing this right now. Who is that guy, by the way? I’ve never seen a GM like it. I didn’t think they could move that fast.”
“Long story,” I say. “Just know that you’re fighting an Enhan
ced soldier.”
“Shit.”
“Why did he stop attacking?” Daeho interjects, having listened in on our conversation. “Whose side is he on?”
“He’s a she,” I answer. “Her name is Tera, and she’s on my side.”
“Tera?” Young asks. “Is she your girlfriend?”
“Jaewon-hyeong’s gotta girl?” Daeho smirks.
“We’re in the middle of a GM battle,” I growl. “Is this really the time?”
“It’s always the time to talk about girls,” Jinwoon adds in his low baritone. It’s possibly one of the few times I’ve ever heard him tell a joke.
“Jaewon-ah,” Tera says. She must have heard the exchange, now that all communications are open between the GMs. My face heats in embarrassment, and the snickers of Young and his crew fill the M-19’s cockpit. “The factories are deploying troops.”
The laughter stops. “Oh, shit.”
“Our objective was to destroy the factories,” Young says, “but one is good enough. Do you think we can get out of here?”
There are at least thirty GMs on their way, and I’d bet my entire savings that Tsuko is inside one of them. “I don’t know.”
“Jaewon-ah,” Tera says. There’s a steely look in her eyes. “Take your friends and go.”
“What? No. I’m not leaving you.”
“You have to,” she says. “If you fight them now, and I know you will, you’re so loyal you’ll eventually be caught and arrested. Unlike me, you’d be immediately killed.” She leans forward into the camera. “Let me do this for you. Let me protect you and your friends.”
I hold her gaze. We have to leave now if we want to get away. “I’ll come back for you,” I say. I don’t care that Young and the others are listening. “I promise.”
“Okay.” She smiles, and it’s the most beautiful smile I think I’ve ever seen.
This isn’t a good-bye, and I won’t jinx it with one. “Let’s go,” I tell Young.
The four of us fly away from the fields while Tera heads toward the squad of GMs. As I escape, I watch her through my rearview cameras. She flies straight into the cloud of GMs, and seconds later, a storm of light appears. She’s magnificent. Fierce in her desire to protect me.
And now, officially, I’m a traitor and enemy of the state. Tera as well. If I’m captured, I’ll be executed. Still, I don’t regret the steps that have led me to this moment. I’ll return for Tera. I’ll do whatever it takes to get her back. After all, like my father used to say, when you want something, when you love someone, no one and nothing can keep you away.
* * *
■ ■ ■
We land our GMs in an empty lot in downtown Incheon, several meters from the old weapons base. I bring my GM to its knee to assist my dismount since I don’t have a lift, then climb down the emergency rungs and land on the dirt. I wait for Young to stumble out of his GM before approaching. He raises his hands in a placating gesture. “Wait a minute. Remember, I was the one who told you not to go over there.”
I frown, curious. “What are you doing?”
He lowers his hands. “You’re not going to punch me?”
“Why would I punch you?”
“Because we just left your girl back there to cover our tracks.”
“I mean, I’m pissed about that, but we’ll get her back. Also, she can take care of herself. Now tell me — what the hell were you even doing blowing up the GM factories?”
Young sighs. “A couple months ago, Oh Kangto reached out to me. I didn’t want to tell you. Your father died carrying out a mission given by Oh Kangto; I didn’t think you’d react well.”
“You’re right. I probably wouldn’t have.” I need answers right now more than I need to get mad at him. “Go on.”
Young glances at Daeho and Jinwoon. “You know us, Jaewon. We’re all orphans. I mean, yes, I have a father, but I haven’t spoken to him since I left the gang six months ago, and even before that we didn’t speak, and he never was a real parent to me. We live in a world where orphans like us struggle to survive in gangs like Red Moon. Even the Kings isn’t a great organization. When Oh Kangto reached out to me, I remembered your father, all his many sayings, that conviction he used to show every day. He wanted to change the world for the better. And I do too. I believe in Oh Kangto and the UKL. I want to make the world better for the kids we were, for the kids running those same streets now. But in order to do that, it all has to go — the Tower, the Dome, all the things that divide us, the symbols that oppress us.”
Young places a hand on my shoulder. “What do you think? Are you in?”
“Ay, jasik. Being a gang boss has made you a talker.”
“I’ve always been a talker. Now I just have people who are required to listen to me.”
“I don’t know if I’m in,” I say, wondering what I’ve gotten myself into. There’s no going back, though. “But I’m here. What’s next?”
“Well, after blowing up the factories, we were supposed to meet up with Oh Kangto. He has this battleship. It’s amazing, designed by the world’s premier machinist, a woman named Kim Woori . . .”
My phone pings in my pocket. Damn it. Have they tracked it already? I pull it out, expecting a message from Koga about my defection. It’s from Bora: “The Director came to the school. The entire student body was called out to the courtyard. I think it has something to do with Alex. Come quick.”
“What is it?” Young asks, seeing my expression.
I grimace. “I have to go.”
Young shakes his head. “You’re an enemy of the state. If you’re caught, you’ll be imprisoned and probably killed without trial.”
“It’s Alex,” I say. “He might be an asshole, but he’s . . . a friend. From the sound of it, he’s probably in as much trouble as we are. I’ll be right back. Where’s the meeting point?”
“Old Seoul.”
Searching for a cab, I start to jog over to a side street.
Young follows. “You’re cheating on me with Alex, aren’t you?”
I wave him away with a laugh.
* * *
■ ■ ■
I’m in the cab, heading toward Apgujeong, when the billboards in the sky go static, replaced by a video feed. In the video, Oh Kangto, his wounds cleaned and bandaged, sits at a large mahogany desk. He wears a white hanbok. His empty hands are placed one on top of the other. Behind him on the wall hangs a massive flag, its most significant feature a taegeuk, a red-and-blue yin-yang.
Every screen — from the billboards to all personal devices, my phone included — has been taken over by the feed.
Oh Kangto’s deep, arresting voice reverberates through the holos’ speakers, echoing across every nearby audible device.
“This is a message to the Tower and the Neo State of Korea. My name is Oh Kangto. I am the leader of the United Korean League. We are a group of nationalists divorced from the NSK and the Neo Council. The purpose of our League is the eradication of the current military dictatorship and the restoration of the nation of Korea. We have an undying love for this country. We long to have it returned to all of us. To this end, we will engage in acts of violence against the NSK, starting with the Tower, a symbol of oppression. We will attack the Tower early tomorrow morning at 0400 hours. You have twelve hours to evacuate all people in a three-point-five-kilometer radius. This is not a threat. This is a forewarning.”
34
Punishment
Dozens of camera crews wait outside the gates of Apgujeong Military Academy. A floating camera droid swivels in my direction as I approach. The red light of its lens hones in on my face and begins to emit a clicking sound as it takes a photo every millisecond. My face will grace the Internet in about .33 seconds. If soldiers aren’t already on their way to arrest me, they will be soon.
I shoulder through the crowd, pushing droids away with the
back of my hand whenever they get too close. The school must have activated its sound barrier, because once I step through the gates — my student ID granting me access — the noise of the outside disappears. I haven’t been back in school for over a week, and it’s jarring to see the sea of uniformed students spread out before me in the courtyard, eerily silent. They all face the front of the school, their backs to me. I realize, stepping farther into the crowd, they’re waiting for something.
As students recognize me, many of them move aside. Briefly I wonder if it’s because they know I’m technically a fugitive. I break through the final line of students and come to a halt.
There’s a large space at the bottom of the stairs at the academy’s main entrance, the crowd forming a half-moon around the area.
I grab a boy to the right of me. “Why is everyone standing out here?”
“You don’t know?” he asks, genuinely baffled.
“No, I — ” I look past him up the stairs to the main entrance of the academy. Two NSK soldiers drag a limp, battered body down the stairs, holding it up by the arms. The prisoner’s face is covered with bleeding lacerations as well as purple and green bruises. Lank hair sticks to his forehead, wet with his own blood. His hands are shackled in front of him with blue-metal braces.
At first I don’t recognize him, my mind not registering what my eyes see, but then the soldiers reach the bottom steps, and the prisoner turns his face to the side, shooting a heated glare at his captors. He spits blood, and it hits the skirt of a girl standing too close. She lets out a loud yelp, and the crowd moves back to give them space.
“Ai — shhh,” I curse, trying to press forward. I’m stopped by a hand on my shoulder. I turn to see Minwoo and Bora.
Minwoo drops his hand. “Don’t,” he warns. “You’ll get yourself in trouble.”