I’m jolted awake, thrown from a bed onto an ice-cold floor. My stomach drops, and I feel the familiar pull of gravity as the floor and ceiling dip and rise. I’m on an airship. I scan the room, taking in the details. Beside the bed is a low metal table with one chair. I get to my feet, and the door to the room slides open.
“You’re awake.”
For a moment I’m speechless. The newcomer wears a flight suit, her pink-tinged hair pulled back in a fierce ponytail.
“Sela? What are you — ?” A sinking suspicion grips me. “How should I feel right now, gratified or betrayed?”
Sela raises an eyebrow. “I’m not in Red Moon, if that’s what you’re implying.”
“Then this is an NSK ship.” What the hell did I sleep through? Has Park Taesung’s coup ended? Did Tsuko arrive to take back the Tower?
Where is Tera?
I start to panic, my heart hammering in my chest.
“Lee Jaewon, focus,” Sela says. “Remember when you visited me in the hospital. I told you I wanted to ask you something.”
I think back to that morning, only yesterday. I’m reminded of why Sela had been in the hospital in the first place. She’d been shot. Looking at her now, she stands with one hip cocked, no evidence of a gunshot wound.
“What did you think I was going to ask you?”
“I thought you were going to ask me if I liked you.” It sounds ridiculous now, but it’s what I thought at the time. My mind had been on Alex and Ama, and on how Ama’s favorite flowers were roses.
“Do you like me?” Sela asks the question without emotion, her expression giving away nothing.
I answer with the truth. “I don’t know you.”
The starry-eyed singer is gone, replaced by an intelligent, enigmatic girl. Sela’s lips quirk in a small, barely there smile. “Let me tell you who I am. My name is Gu Saera. Eighteen years ago I was born in the Neo State of Japan, to parents of Korean descent. My parents were nationalists who fled the NSK when accused of having UKL sympathies. When I was eight, they were assassinated in our home. I was spared only because the assassins didn’t know I was there. My mother told me to be quiet, and so I was. I didn’t make a sound. It’s ironic, considering who I am now, the NSK’s representative vocalist. Most everyone in Asia has heard my voice.”
“C’est La Vie’s a cover,” I say, not hiding my amazement. The most famous band in the Neo State is a cover.
“Yes.”
I shake my head, replaying all our conversations in my head, everything I know about her. “You’re one hell of an actress.”
“I know. I’ve won awards for it.” She smiles, a confident, knowing smile.
The ship tilts, and we brace ourselves, reaching out to hold the walls. “I was wrong, wasn’t I? About the question you were going to ask me back in the hospital?”
“I was going to ask you to join the UKL,” she says. Before I can respond, she shakes her head. “I wasn’t going to ask you because I think you are a great soldier or because I think you’d add anything to the revolution.” She pauses. “No offense.”
I grimace. “None taken.”
“I was going to ask you because I thought it was what Oh Kangto would have wanted. Oh Kangto is like a father to me. He adopted me after I was abandoned by the neighbors who found me crying beside the bodies of my parents. When I had nothing, he gave me everything. He gave me my brothers, my family. He’s given me an unconditional love that is — that is . . .” She searches for a word. “Unrepayable. He’s given me the means to fight for what I believe in. He has never asked anything of me in return.” She takes a breath. “Not until today. Today he asked me if I would save the son of a friend he had loved.”
To think, one man had loved my father enough to hurt me, and another had loved him enough to save me.
I open my mouth — to say something, to thank Sela — but suddenly the ship takes a sharp turn. We both stumble, missing the walls and falling to the floor.
Sela’s the first to jump to her feet. “What is he doing?” she asks cryptically before rushing from the doorway. I’m quick to follow.
She runs down a short hall, passing through a set of double doors that slide open at her approach to reveal the ship’s bridge. My stare passes over the crew, situated around the bridge in various concentrated roles, and focuses on the clear shield of glass separating the bridge and the sky. Now I understand the reason behind the erratic movements of the ship.
We’re in the middle of a battle raging over Neo Seoul.
The ship’s pilot, C’est La Vie’s friggin’ drummer, expertly directs the ship through a melee of battling GMs, fighter planes, and bombers. Her two guitarists act as gunners for the ship, shooting down any GM or aircraft that gets too close.
“Nunim.” A tall boy with a shock of dyed white hair swivels in his chair to face Sela. “We just received a message from the commander. They’ve begun the countdown for the Ko Cannon.” Which means it’s nearly 0400. Oh Kangto’s final threat is imminent.
I look up past the battle raging beneath the Dome to the higher sky above it. A massive battleship looms overhead, an island in the sky. The triangle of light that signifies the Ko Cannon glows a bright red, aimed directly at the Tower. When the cannon is fully charged, it’ll let out a powerful beam of energy, a concentrated nuclear explosion that’ll break through the Dome and destroy the Tower and everything in a three-and-a-half-kilometer radius. The outcome is undeniable, and yet the battle still rages on.
C’est La Vie’s drummer swerves the ship out of the way of a falling GM, its metal chest incinerated through.
“That’s going to fall on the city,” I say. My gaze flits across the battlefield, from burning aircraft to burning aircraft, all crashing-falling toward the city.
The boy with the white hair pulls up a live video feed of Neo Seoul. It’s lit with the blue light of explosions.
There’s no sound, but I don’t need to hear the screaming to know what it sounds like. The bridges from Neo Seoul into Old Seoul are packed with civilians attempting to flee, but it’s after midnight, and the Dome has solidified. They surge against the barrier that traps them inside. It’s chaos, anarchy. In order to prevent enemy aircraft from entering the city, the government must have refused to lower the barrier for fleeing civilians.
“This is what Park Taesung wanted. Not the Tower, but total destruction of the city.”
Sela nods, her expression grim.
“Tsuko should have realized Park Taesung’s intent. Why didn’t he recall his troops?”
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 much 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.”