Rebel Seoul

by Axie Oh

  Sela grimaces. “Tsuko’s been . . . preoccupied.”

  The white-haired keyboardist pulls up another live video feed. In it, two GMs clash in a ferocious battle: the Extension and Tsuko’s famous God Machine, the Shi.

  The Shi, an entirely black GM with red eyes, blends almost seamlessly with the dark sky. It’s a stark contrast to the bright red and orange of the Extension. They light up the night with every clash of their swords, causing reverberations in the sky, only to fly backward, releasing a barrage of bullets with stunning accuracy. The other battling GMs give their ruthless leaders a wide berth.

  I grit my teeth. “How long have they been fighting?”

  “Since the battle began,” Sela says. “Three hours ago.”

  They show no sign of lagging.

  Tsuko’s Shi swivels out of the way of the downward arc of the Extension’s blade, an impossibly quick movement.

  One of the gunners whistles. “How is he so fast? He’s gotta be Enhanced.”

  “He is,” Sela says.

  I turn sharply to Sela. “He’s on Enhancers?” I’d easily believe it, except for the fact that, even at his angriest, he’s still completely in control. If he were on Enhancers, he wouldn’t be so composed.

  “No,” Sela says. “Tsuko’s not on Enhancers. He’s Enhanced.” Sela holds up three fingers and puts one down with each name. “Ama. Tera. Su. Tsuko was the only subject of the Amaterasu Project to survive the Su variant.”

  I frown. “How?”

  “An anomaly. They’ve been conducting studies, but so far have had no results.”

  “What can he do?” the left gunner asks. We watch as the Shi brings its sword down. Tera blocks the attack, sparks flying. With the way they’re angled, they appear locked in an embrace, neither one of them moving.

  Is he speaking to her as they fight? What is he saying to her?

  You must know that you can have no future with him, so why are you giving into such a false hope? Is he repeating those words to Tera?

  “He has a combination of the skillsets that both the Tera and Ama variant have, but to a lesser degree. He’s Enhanced physically and mentally.”

  I stare at Sela. “He can read minds?”

  “I don’t know the full extent of his abilities. I stole into the Tower’s archives and read his file, but it’s not conclusive. His doctor died before his trial was completed, and he was immediately recruited into the military.”

  A loud crack outside the Dome eclipses Sela’s last words. Oh Kangto’s battleship has released a powerful blast that hits the Dome, sending shock waves across its curved surface. It’s not the battleship’s main Ko Cannon, but a lead-in, a warning of what’s to come.

  “Ai — shhh,” the pilot curses. “We need to get out of here before the commander looses the cannon. Once the Dome breaks, we’ll need to outfly the aftershocks.”

  “Right,” Sela says. “Let’s move out. We just need — ” She cuts herself off, gasping. A lone shock of plasma pierces through a crack in the Dome. Like lightning splinter-ing through the sky, it hits the very tip of the Tower. The searchlight, which had been blaring red throughout the chaos, goes dark. We collectively hold our breaths, watching as the searchlight of the Tower plummets a kilometer. It lands directly on top of the GM hangar, crushing it.

  “Shit,” says the right gunner into the silence. “Good thing we got you out in time.”

  The pilot leans forward, squinting. “What’s that?”

  There’s a light streaking through the sky.

  The screen zooms in on the Extension flying through the night at a breakneck speed. It hurtles to the ground, landing by the collapsed hanger. The red beam of its scanner sweeps the debris.

  The chest of the Extension begins to open — Tera, trying to get out — but suddenly the Shi is there, slamming it to the ground. The Extension twists, shooting a missile straight into the Shi, throwing it back a league. It returns to the hangar, falling to its knees. Again Tsuko stops Tera from opening the chest of her GM, this time grabbing the Extension from behind. He alights into the air, taking her with him.

  The hangar explodes again. If I’d still been alive in the hangar after the impact with the searchlight, I’d have been dead now.

  Tera’s GM struggles out of Tsuko’s grip, treading air.

  Their battle recommences, but something’s off. Tera’s movements, once quick and sharp, are erratic, reckless. Every move she makes is filled with desperation.

  It’s as if . . .

  “It’s as if she’s given up the fight,” the ship’s pilot says, voicing my thoughts. “What wrong with her?”

  There’s silence on the bridge.

  I turn to see Sela staring, not at the screen, but at me. “She has nothing to fight for. Jaewon was supposed to be in that hangar.”

  My hands curl into fists. “Is there a GM on board?”

  One of the gunners answers before Sela can stop him. “Just the standard one for scouting. It’s in the hold.”

  I sprint out of the bridge.

  “It’s damaged though,” he shouts after me. It doesn’t matter. I just have to reach Tera.

  I find a hatch in the ship’s hull, opening it to reveal the open chest of a GM directly beneath, cramped in the small cargo area of the airship. I swing my legs onto the seat.

  “Jaewon!” Sela shouts, catching my bandaged wrist. “What are you doing?”

  “I’m leaving.”

  “What do you mean, you’re leaving? The whole point of Oh Kangto sending me here was to get you. I can’t let you leave.”

  “I have to.”

  “Shit, Jaewon. Oh Kangto’s going to release the cannon any minute. He’s going to shatter the Dome. We need to get out of here. Now.”

  I flinch at the pressure of her hand on my wrist, and she lets go. “Sela,” I say, looking up at her, seeing the way the hallway silhouettes her hair in a golden light, “back in the hospital, you asked me if I knew whether mugunghwa were your favorite flowers, the way Alex knew that roses were Ama’s.”

  “Are we seriously talking about this right now?” she shouts, exasperated. “Who cares? It doesn’t matter.”

  “It matters because I don’t know Tera’s favorite flower. I don’t know what her favorite color is, or what food she likes to eat when she’s sick, or what she thinks of first when she wakes. But I want to. I want to know everything about her. If she doesn’t have a favorite flower, I want to show her all the kinds in the world until she finds one. I want to show her that life isn’t made of battles to be won. That life isn’t about winning or losing, and that her existence doesn’t need to be something she needs to deserve. That the fact that she exists is enough, always.”

  Sela swallows, watching me. “I’m not a sentimental person, Jaewon.”

  “How could you not be?” I grin. “Your songs are so depressing.”

  I sit down in the seat of the GM’s cockpit, adjusting the controls, powering on the screen, and checking through the inventory of weapons. This scouting GM only comes with a common sword and a power rifle.

  Sela still stands in the hall, watching me from above. “We’re going to release the Ko Cannon whether you’re in the vicinity or not.”

  “Good.” I nod. “If the Tower’s gone, Red Moon and the NSK won’t have anything left to fight over.”

  I feel the underbelly of the ship opening beneath me. The sounds of the screaming wind and the booming of heavy gunfire meet my ears, deafening. Soon the GM will drop from out of the airship’s hold and straight into the middle of the battle.

  Sela reaches out, keeping the chest of my GM from closing. “Jaewon,” she shouts over the wind, “what do I tell Oh Kangto? What do I say to him when I stand before him without you, and I have to tell him I’ve failed?”

  Her voice cracks on the word “failed,” and I realize how muc
h Oh Kangto means to her.

  I look up at Sela, meeting her worried gaze. “Tell him . . .” I hesitate. “Tell him to do what he needs to do. Tell him that I’ll see him soon, and that” — I give Sela a smile that’s full of everything I’m feeling: determination, anticipation, and a burgeoning, unbreakable hope — “I won’t be alone.”

  38

  Tsuko

  I fly through a battlefield in the sky.

  God Machines burn and fall around me. Hundreds. Thousands of them. They light up the night with a dizzying array of colors — deep blue and blood red. You’d think something as colorful as this would be beautiful. In simulations, a battle is just a game, but in real life, battles are full of endless sorrow.

  What are they fighting for? Who are they fighting for?

  In the distance, Tera and Tsuko continue their isolated struggle, swerving in and around the Tower, blind to the chaos around them, to the battleship looming above us all, its main cannon primed to obliterate.

  Several kilometers from the Tower, my transmission picks up the audiolink between Tsuko’s and Tera’s GMs. I try to respond, but the communicator in my GM is damaged.

  “I won’t let you do this,” Tsuko is saying. “You can’t exist with a false purpose.”

  The sound of Tera’s voice answering fills me with longing. “Please,” she whispers. “Why are you making this harder than it already is? Why can’t you just leave me be?”

  Tsuko takes another powerful swipe at Tera with his GM’s bladed hand. “You’re an abomination, a weapon without a purpose. If you won’t fight for the Neo State, then you won’t fight at all.”

  She raises her shield, blocking his attack. “Leave now,” she pleads. “If you stay, I’ll end up killing you.”

  Tsuko laughs harshly. “You can try.” He takes another downward swipe. Tera breaks to the left, narrowly avoiding the slash of his blade. “I’m doing you a favor, Tera. You’ve wanted to die all along, haven’t you? Come. Here.” He makes a grab for her. A sharp thrust of his blade pierces the side of her GM’s chest, leaving an ugly gash. “Why won’t you die?” Tsuko shouts. “If you love him so much, then you should join him!” He strikes again with his blade, gouging a piece of metal from her plated armor.

  Inside my GM, I look at the distance marker on the screen. I’m still thirteen kilometers out from her.

  Tera’s voice is so soft I can hardly hear it. Turning up the speakers to their top volume barely brings her voice through. “I do love him,” she says, and I catch my breath. “Is that so hard to believe?”

  “No,” Tsuko says. “I believe it of you. Just like I believe Ama was fooled into thinking she was in love with Alex. Both of you are weak and pathetic, thinking you’re more than you are, humans instead of weapons. After I kill you, I’ll find Ama, and I’ll kill her. You’re both defective. The project has failed in you.”

  “The project may have failed in us,” Tera says, her voice hard, “but it has failed you if you believe you are no less human than we are.”

  “Be quiet! I am not like you.” He plunges his bladed arm toward her. But this time, he’s too focused on the attack — acting on his emotions. He makes the critical mistake of leaving himself defenseless. Tsuko’s blade embeds itself to the hilt into Tera’s shoulder, but she uses the momentum of his attack to wrap one clawed hand around his head, jamming the other into the Shi’s gut and ripping out a portion of its most central gears.

  She releases him. The Shi sputters, the gaping hole in its abdomen sparking. Tsuko attempts to lift its arm, causing a small internal explosion and pushing it back through the air.

  The fight between them is over. The battle has its final victor.

  Left unharmed in the Shi’s chest, Tsuko’s options are few. He can surrender. He can self-detonate. Neither of them seem like viable options for the general of the NSK.

  The Extension and the Shi float in the air, motionless, the crystal apex of the Tower spiraling behind them toward the broken sky.

  Tsuko’s voice, when it comes, is quiet. “What are you waiting for, Tera? Finish this. Kill me.”

  A pause. “I can’t.”

  “If you don’t kill me now,” Tsuko growls, “I will come after you. I will never rest until you are dead.”

  “I don’t believe you.”

  “Then you’re an even bigger fool than I thought.”

  Tera lowers her weapons. “Su,” she calls, and Tsuko gasps at the sound of his name spoken softly from her lips. “If you had asked me to fight for you, I would have. Because even at your cruelest, you were always mine, in the way Ama will always be mine. In the way — in the way Jaewon should have been mine.” She takes a heavy breath. “You say that I cannot love because I am a weapon, but it’s strange; I cannot kill you now. I don’t think I could kill you ever.”

  “I don’t . . .” Tsuko chokes.

  I’m almost there, just a hundred more meters.

  Above, there’s a terrible booming sound, the crackling, deafening static of electric fire.

  The sky is lit entirely red.

  This is no preliminary shot. This is no warning. This is it.

  “Tsuko, listen to me!” Tera shouts. “This doesn’t have to be the end. It’s never too late to choose a different path. Ama, you, and me, we can start over. The world is changing, day by day. We can be part of a new future, a future of our own making.”

  Fierce pride and joy courses through me at her words. Even after everything — the captivity, the experiments, the loss of so many of her friends and loved ones, she has the determination to live. She has the hope of a future.

  “Help me, Su! Help me build a better tomorrow.”

  “Tera,” Tsuko says, and strange, but for the first time, he sounds almost . . . content. “I never told you this, but before I came to the Tower, every day of my life I spent alone. Afraid. Nobody understood what it was like to be me. You and Ama were my first friends, my only friends. I’m sorry for all the pain I’ve caused you both.

  “I’m sorry for everything, but I’m not sorry for you.” The Shi’s red eyes flicker and turn black. Its engine finally gives out.

  “From time to time,” he says, and though I can’t see him, I can hear the smile in his voice, “won’t you think of me?”

  The Shi drops from the sky.

  “Tsuko, no!” Tera shouts.

  Everything happens within a breath of a moment.

  The Ko Cannon shatters the Dome.

  My GM reaches Tera, slamming into her. The force carries us a distance away, but not far enough. Behind us, I feel the massive heat of the plasma cannon as it shoots out of the sky, piercing the Tower clean through. There’s a roar of sound, the surge of the explosion fanning out, a wall of energy sweeping toward us.

  We’re caught in the heart of the blast.

  I watch through my melting cams as the paint on the Extension’s face peels off, the advanced armor beneath withstanding the heat.

  My GM is made of a weaker metal.

  I don’t even know when the bar meter goes from red to broken. It’s completely black inside the cockpit, black and burning. This GM will explode in a matter of seconds.

  I jam the soles of my boots against the metal of the GM’s chest until it gives. It opens to a shattered sky, one without a Dome.

  I only have time to think one thought, one name, before I jump.

  Epilogue: New World

  Neo Seoul is a city that dreams of a better tomorrow.

  At the NSK’s Apgujeong academy, a girl and boy stand gazing out a window, their faces turned toward the sky of the greater Gangnam area.

  “Bora-yah,” the boy asks, pointing, “what’s that? It looks like pieces of stars falling.”

  “Ay, Chang Minwoo.” The girl laughs. “When did you get so romantic?”

  “Just now, I think. I mean, look at it. Isn’t
it beautiful?”

  The Dome that was once a part of the sky is gone, blown to rose-colored fragments of light. The fragments float down like crystallized snow. Or as the boy likes to think, like stars.

  The girl wonders if this is the beginning of a new world.

  * * *

  ■ ■ ■

  On an airship fleeing Neo Seoul, a cold-eyed man looks out at the destruction he’s brought upon the city he’d once promised to protect. He feels no regret. He knows that there will come a day when he’ll return to this city — once beloved, now hated — to finish what he’s started.

  * * *

  ■ ■ ■

  In a warehouse in Old Seoul, a young boss rescues a group of girls, kidnapped by the now-disbanded Red Moon gang. He’s joined by another boy with a silver crown pinned to his shirt. “I think we got them all, boss,” the boy says, panting. “They’re a little traumatized, but I think they’ll be all right.”

  “Good job, Daeho-yah,” the boss says. “We’ll bring them back to their families.”

  Daeho frowns. “What about the ones who don’t have families?”

  “We’ll be their family,” a third boy says, taller than the other two. “We won’t abandon them.”

  After his friends leave, the boss looks up at the sky. A moment of deep sadness hits him — he wonders if he’ll ever see his father and his best friend again — but then the sadness passes. The future is bright and new, and he has hope in what tomorrow might bring.

  * * *

  ■ ■ ■

  At the center of the bridge in a crowd of refugees fleeing across the broken Dome’s barrier, a woman calls her young son from the railing. “Jaeshin-ah. Don’t stand so close.”

  He doesn’t answer. His eyes are riveted to the sky.

  “Lee Jaeshin!” she calls. “Come here right this minute!”

  “Eomma!” he cries, pointing. “It’s a shooting star.”

  She thinks of scolding him. She even opens her mouth to follow through with the thought, but then he turns from the railing. For a second, she can’t breathe — he looks just like his father and brother.