by K. Gorman
The embrace ended, and Soo-jin pulled back, but not before giving him a quick kiss on the cheek and straightening his hat. “I can’t believe you’re still alive.”
“Ninety and still mad as hell.” He wiped at his eyes, giving her an up and down look. “I see you’re still decked out in the fads.”
“Well, you know, had to dress up for the fam.”
That comment made Karin give her a second look. She hadn’t noticed anything different about Soo-jin—the rocker shirt, mesh overlay, and stretch synth-pants were a normal part of her planet-side wardrobe—and the second inspection showed only a possibly more edgy tone to her eye shadow and lipstick combo. The dreads, as always, glinted and glimmered when she walked, the occasional woven-in ring or ribbon catching the light.
Then, Karin understood.
She was already having to lie to her family. Even possibly the most understanding part of that family as Chul appeared to be.
She exchanged a look with Marc. By the stony, careful look to his expression, he had noticed, too.
Great. This is going to be a ride.
But they were only going to be there long enough to heal her family—that was the deal. Then, they could leave. And Chul was already turning to them, a friendly smile crinkling his lined, papery features. Karin quickly matched it, relaxing her shoulders and taking a quick step forward as Soo-jin made a sweeping gesture to them.
“Uncle, these are the people I work with—Marc’s the big guy, Cookie’s his cousin, and this is Karin, who will be healing our people, and her sister, Nomiki. Nomiki, Jon, and Reeve work with the Fallon military, but they’re helping us today.”
“Ah—that explains the extra birds overhead.” Chul made a twirling motion with his hand and rolled his eyes skyward in a light, flippant manner that made it easy to see where Soo-jin might have inherited her sarcasm from—if he were indeed her blood uncle. Karin had seen a few places where ‘uncle’ became a more honorific title, and he had said he was ninety. A bit old to be Soo-jin’s uncle, unless he was a great-uncle. “I thought I saw a Fallon design on that wing, but these old eyes ain’t what they used to be.”
“Both governments are fighting over custody of Karin,” Soo-jin explained. “They’re a little too invested in her to let her completely out of sight. Hells, we’re lucky they even let her come all the way out here”
“Well, if she can do what you say she can do, then we can hardly blame them, can we?” He beamed a grin their way, then leaned back and patted the seat bench behind him in the slow, light manner of someone protective of their muscles and joints. “Now come, I think you’ll all fit, though you’ll have to squish a bit. Let me take you in.”
It was an older vehicle, but surprisingly smooth-running—and it had an awning above which made it look like an older model of one of those Old Earth-style golf carts, from before they lifted into hover mode and instead relied on pneumatic tires. Like a little train, the small two-car bus whined its electric motor across the large, blank expanse of the courtyard, where the flagstones spanned three meters each in diameter and were mottled by some sort of traction layer that had been hued to make it more representative of an impeccable-but-ancient temple rather than a modern concrete bunker complex, then slid into the shade between buildings.
It was, she thought, like a small city. Or, perhaps, it was one. She’d never gotten an estimate on how many people lived here—from Soo-jin’s description, she’d thought the place to be pretty small and confined, ten thousand tops, but there were clearly more here.
Or, rather, there should have been more.
A quiet emptiness seemed to fill the place. A feeling that pulled at her chest as it grew, and she began paying more attention to the buildings themselves than what they looked like as a whole, searching for its origin. It felt dead. Hollow. Like walking into a place you could only visit in a dream, or a fantasy spirit-world that only existed in folk tales. She’d heard stories of larger nations pre-building architecture, housing, and infrastructure in certain areas as a way to get their urban development and design under check, especially if they knew that people would move in, either due to a university opening, or a factory moving in, or even a seat of government switching, and this felt like one of those cases.
Except that this one was still waiting for people.
Everything felt clean, or mostly clean, though. Not pristine, but better than she’d expect given what the nearby desert was prone to blow in. Most windows were dusty, for sure, but they had an even-layered effect, as if the dust hadn’t been on there long enough for rain to splatter it into patterns.
She wasn’t the only one to notice.
“You missing a lot of people?” Marc commented, his head dipped to the side to see the higher windows beyond the lip of the vehicles’ awning. “Or they just haven’t moved in yet?”
“Just haven’t moved in, I’m afraid,” Chul said. “Has Soo-jin told you much about our operation?”
“Not too much, no,” Marc said.
“That’s good. Your father will like that.” Chul reached over and gave Soo-jin, sitting beside him, a pat on the shoulder. “You know how he is with secrets.”
“Oh, yes,” she said. “I remember everything.”
“Well, anyway—we’re part of a community living organization founded by Hong, who had mighty big ambitions. Wanted to make a center home for everyone, in case the worst happened. Bought all this land and built on it before any of the other colonies were rightly terraformed yet. Anyone who is a member of our organization can gain free food and lodging here.”
“Whoa, wait, wait, wait—” Cookie, who had remained quiet for the entire trip, watching the buildings go by, now held out his hands. “You’re saying that all of this is pre-Alliance? When this was all still Sol-operated?”
“It is.” Chul dipped his head to peek out at the buildings. “She’s aged well, though, hasn’t she? You wouldn’t tell by looking at her. Just little things in the plasticglass components and some really old circuitry in most places—but it all still works. I’ve got myself a place with its own hardwired computer node, though I’ve had to replace the monitor a few times and modify it to modern standards.”
“Really?” Cookie sat up. “I—ah—do you mind if I saw it?”
“He’s our resident computer nerd,” Soo-jin explained. “Give him a look, and he might fix it up for you, if you need.”
“I don’t mind. Once I drop you off, I’ve got nothing better to do, and…” A frown came over his face, scrunching his white eyebrows in and creating a set of tiny wrinkles through his brow as he turned it to Soo-jin. “Well, about how long will this thing take?”
“The healing itself takes about ten seconds each,” she said. “But then, we gotta wait about fifteen minutes for them to wake up again.”
Karin didn’t think he realized it, but in the time he paused, sitting still, only a slight relaxing to his frown as his mind worked through that, the vehicle also seemed to slow, its engine whine decreasing as they caught sight of the main sun between two buildings.
Then, as he turned back and looked to her, a tension caught her shoulders, seeing both the realization and the incomprehension cross into his face.
“You—you can really do this, can’t you?”
She nodded.
“I…” He shook his head. “I hope you can, anyway. Suns, I’ve never seen anything like this in all my years—we don’t even have any records of anything like this happening. And, well, there’s always the clan stories, but…”
“Those aren’t supposed to be real,” Soo-jin said. “Not really real, anyway. Not unless you start dipping into the hallucinogens along with your nighttime reading. Demons aren’t supposed to be real.”
He sucked in a breath. “Your father wouldn’t like to hear you talk like that.”
“My father?” The laugh Soo-jin made seemed to surprise even her, a high-pitched bubble that sounded almost like a hiccup. “Do you really want to hear what I think about my fa
ther?”
“It doesn’t matter what you think of him. You shouldn’t say things like that. Not here.”
Soo-jin’s lips peeled back—unconsciously, Karin thought—and her teeth showed, this time not in a grin but something more severe. “I will say whatever the ten hells I please, Uncle. Why l should I care?”
“He’s head of household, now. And your brother—”
“My brother can go fuck a sun.”
Nomiki made a disgusted sound in her throat.
A small moment of tense quiet passed between them.
Finally, Chul said, “Think of your mother, then.”
Soo-jin stiffened, and Karin saw her nostrils go wide, though she didn’t think they had breathed anything in. She’d lain an arm across the back of the chair, trailing off to the side, and now, the hand made tense claws of her fingers where they gripped the faux-leather cushions.
She stared at him for several seconds. Then, she turned her focus on the road ahead. Her dreads fell into place behind her, a few dropping off the seat’s back to swing behind her, their faded green and blue color worked into their thick stalks.
“The Shadows aren’t demons,” Soo-jin told him. “Not in the religious sense—and I dunno, maybe they were. But as far as we can tell, they’re from a different dimension. And that black band in the sky Nova was getting up until last week was an attempt at a planet-wide dimensional shift. Karin here just happens to be able to produce and manipulate an energy that pushes it back somehow. She was created in the same scientific program as the two who are causing this mess, so perhaps that’s why they’re related. Either way, she can push back at the Shadows and at the cross-dimensional stuff.” She glanced over. “The government’s managed to replicate that power of hers, by the way. Those glasses are legit.”
“That’s… good to know. Thank you.” Chul nodded. “We have many others in need of healing.”
“The glasses will work just as well as her.”
There was another small pause between them. At the sides, buildings continued to pass by, large, gray, and empty.
“You know they wanted to see you again, right?” Chul said. “That that’s the reason they wanted her here in person? Because she’s attached to you?”
Soo-jin nodded. “I figured as much. Why?”
Another pause. This time, Chul visibly shifted in his seat, pushing himself up with one hand to adjust himself.
“It’s your brother,” he said.
“Of course it is,” she said. “What is it this time?”
“Inheritance, I think.”
She snorted. “Seriously?”
“Well, you are a woman. According to our customs—”
“Yeah, yeah, maternal line and giving away daughters and all that. What does he want?”
“Not sure. Just know that he had a bone to pick. Him and your father.”
“I’m surprised Dad isn’t leading that particular charge.” Soo-jin made another disgusted sound in her throat, and her gaze darted up to the buildings. “Sol. You know I love you, but I just hate this place. I can’t stay here.”
“There are other—”
“Other compounds? Yeah, buildings aren’t the problem. I love these buildings—” She gestured outside. “I mean, just look at them. Pure proto-colonial megacity perfection. I could spend weeks just wandering around here, being here, but…” She shook her head. “Not with anyone. Not with them.”
“It’s a big place,” he started. “Plenty of spots. And you know our custom. You could—”
“No. Just stop right there. I know. And I’ve thought about it a lot. But, despite how large this place is, and how many empty places there are, with them here, there’s just no place for me.”
“I… I think I know what you mean. Not with your father…?”
“Nor my brother, if he’s shoving the same stick up his ass.”
“Those aren’t sticks,” Chul said. “Those are our traditions.”
“And you and me both know they’re using them against me,” she said.
He hesitated. Then, he shook his head. “Well, I know our way of life—our customs—are not for you. You’ve expressed that much. But… will you at least visit sometimes?”
She gave a light laugh—genuine, this time—and a broad grin spread across her face as if it had been slapped there. “You mean, not just when the world is ending?”
“Preferably not, yes. Once a year would be wonderful. Even once every two years, given your line of work, though that might be stretching it. I’ve only got so much time left, you know, but there’s your mother…”
“Once every two years might be doable.” She cocked her head. “Even every year and a half, depending on where our routes shake out to. I mean—hells—I’m not even sure we’ll be doing scrounging work after all this.”
“I’d like to go back to it,” Karin said.
“Yeah?” Soo-jin’s eyebrows shot up in surprise. “You like the dirt under your nails that much?”
“Something like that,” she said, then gave a shrug, laying her head on Marc’s shoulder. “Might have more to do with the company.”
Soo-jin pretended not to see. “I knew it. You do like me. Where’s my ring? And my proposal?”
“Somewhere on Clemens’ second moon,” she answered.
“Sol, Karin. Terna? The one with the fucking ice acid?” She made a face, scrunching her eyes and nose up. “You couldn’t have picked somewhere sunnier and more beachy?”
“It was a symbol of how my heart feels when I’m around you,” Karin said.
“Yikes. I’m not sure we’re cut out for each other. But…” Soo-jin ducked her head, craning her neck up at a dip in the architecture up ahead. “Here we are.”
One of the buildings, nearly indistinguishable from the others’ blocky exteriors, had several light hovercraft parked at its base, and two long, red banners rolling down from windows set on one of the higher floors, with the Korean Hangeul script running down them in black, unreadable to her.
As they drew closer, other pieces set it aside from the rest of the block, mostly signs of habitation. A few other vehicles, along with a security armament standing to the side. The building itself, like most of the rest, had a wedge-like shape cut out of its bottom part, as if someone had cut a slice out of the building and then smoothed it over with plasticglass.
A patterned, landscaped courtyard became visible, along with a slate-stone pond that housed a smattering of lotus and fish. There was a small shrine to the left, just beside the building’s main entrance—an entrance which resembled a hotel lobby more than anyone’s house.
Several people gathered close to the entrance—most dressed in black, though some in more casual, modern wear that she wouldn’t be surprised to see on the streets of Pomona—and glanced up when they neared, no doubt having heard the whine of the vehicle’s engines in the quiet of the city.
And, above, with an overhead growl that sheared over everything else in a weird, anti-grav unsubtly, one of the fighters—Fallon’s—passed overhead, then pulled around, pausing to engage a sliding sort of hover mode at the top of the left-hand building.
A second later, the Alliance craft joined it, its white chassis and worn metal glinting in the light of the suns.
Right, Karin thought as the vehicle slowed. Time to get to work.
Chapter Four
It was twenty-four people in all. A mix of aunts, uncles, cousins, siblings, grandparents—Soo-jin had one and a half pairs of great-great-grandparents who were still alive and kicking, apart from two of them being Lost—and two nephews, one barely out of his cradle. As they had been instructed, the family had already strapped them to chairs in a long banquet hall when they’d arrived, using a kind of cloth ribbon that looked more religious than strictly practical in most cases. In little over twenty minutes, Karin had made it to the last one.
Light flashed, and she squinted as a flare of it erupted right in front of her face, her hands on either side of an older wom
an’s head. As she focused, pouring the light in, something inside shifted, like a violent stomach cramp clenching under her mental grip.
She held onto her power and pushed, driving it out.
Then, as she had so many times before, she let her hands drop and stepped back, opening her eyes as the link between her and her light held, fighting the Shadow within.
A head of blackness erupted out of the woman’s right shoulder—and was almost-immediately sliced in half by Nomiki’s second blade.
The Shadow froze, half-emerged, stuck in space like a death animation from an old video game.
Then, after a few suspended, unreal seconds, it began to fall apart, fading and dissipating like morning fog under a rising sun.
The person in the chair, a woman in her mid-fifties with a short haircut and curls framing her face, slumped forward. A man to the side let out something halfway between a sob and a cry and rushed to her side, one hand going to her shoulder as he bent forward and cupped her face with the other, checking her.
Behind them, Nomiki sheathed her blade with a hiss of air—the sheathes she used had special qualities to them that integrated with the circuitry inside the weapons, as well—and rolled her shoulders as she stepped away.
Closer to Karin, Soo-jin, who had been standing with her arms crossed over her chest for most of the time, stepping away every so often to speak with members of her family—most of the people here were related in some fashion or another, either by blood or marriage, and Karin refrained from asking just how related they were, though she suspected that particular calculation was going through Cookie’s head by the way he kept eyeing the people that were walking in, as if he were looking for shared familial traits—let out a sigh as the man and two of the others began to untie the woman from the chair.
“Good. We can go now.”
Karin gave her a sidelong glance. “Feeling a bit caged?”
“Basically, yes.” Soo-jin laughed, shaking her head. “And yeah, I know it’s only been like half an hour. And that this city is huge. And that I haven’t seen these people in, what, eight years? I just…” She shook her head again. “I dunno. They are my family.”
