A Game of Drones

8/11/2128

Major Seong-Kim Hwang passed by the calendar on the way to the general's office. It was only by chance that he noted the date – men like him moved with a purpose. That purpose wasn't served by stopping to look at calendars, even if they had some pretty pictures of snow-capped mountains that didn't exist during this hemisphere's summer months anymore. Similarly, if he'd looked out the tower of the MEKA base at the sea wall protecting Busan, that purpose wouldn't have been served much either. Sea walls around coastal cities weren't anything new – the only alternative was to let the sea come in and drown the works of Man, and anyone stupid enough to stay put. And he wasn't stupid. You didn't get to be a major in the Mobile Exo-Force of the Korean Army by being stupid.

Suicidal though? He straightened his cap and kept walking down the hallway. He supposed that counted. He'd been suicidal when he'd climbed into a mech. He'd been suicidal when he'd lost his right arm, even when told that a cybernetic graft was something that he wouldn't have to pay for. Every so often he became suicidal as he realized the truth about MEKA, and the truth that he and every other citizen of the Republic of Korea was living in. And right now, as he walked to the general's office, he supposed he was potentially being suicidal right now.

"Hwang?"

Suicidal, or determined. He supposed you could be both. If there was a distinction, maybe it came down to outcome?

"Hwang?'

He stopped walking – he'd come to the reception area of the general's office. Before him was a door that would only be opened by two keys being turned at the same time. One of them was his own. The second was possessed by the person to his right – Lieutenant Hideko Masatki.

"Lieutenant," he said. He nodded at the door. "Here to see the general?"

"Back again so soon?" she asked, smirking.

"Just the messenger boy. Boys tell me to jump, I jump."

"Did they tell you to jump out a window? Because that might be a better idea right now."

He shrugged. "Look on the bright side. If you see me flying out the window, there'll be a space opening up for you."

The smirk quivered slightly, but Hideko maintained it. "I'll keep that in mind Sir."

She got to her feet, taking a key out from around her neck. Hwang knew the reason for the smirk's quiver – she was Japanese. 180 years on, and more wars than he could count later, and some wounds never healed. As the rising seas around Busan and every other coastal city demonstrated, mankind had no shortage in its capacity for self-destruction.

"One. Two. Three."

Both keys turned, as did the door. Hwang looked at Hideko, who gave him a slight smile.

"Good luck Sir. I guess."

"You guess?"

"Not my job to take sides Sir."

He supposed it wasn't, but he'd hoped that Hideko would have been on his side by now. Granted, politics weren't meant to come between friends, but then, politics came between everyone these days. It seemed that the only time they didn't was when armies of killer robots emerged trying to kill everyone.

Go figure.

He walked into the room before him – like everything in the base its walls were a shining white. Unlike everything else in the tower, the general's desk was made of wood. Even in this day and age, wood was still a luxury that some could afford.

"Major," the general said, not looking up from her desk (at which a series of holographic projections were on display). Please, come in.

He did so, coming up to the desk and laying his cap beside him. The general waved a hand, causing the holograms to disappear. She smiled at him, as she always did – it was her rule of thumb. Always smile at least once in a meeting.

"So," she said. "What can I do for you?"

For a moment, Hwang said nothing. He'd come here before, but…

Well, General Hana Song tended to have that effect on people.

"Tongue tied eh? Well, that can be fixed." She leant back and began rummaging in her desk. "I've got whiskey, and ale, and rice wine, and-"

"No, thank you."

"Oh, really?" She sat back up straight on her chair, and Hwang could already see in her eyes that she had no interest in playing the role that had been curated for her anymore – a role that had existed before he was even born." Well, that's good. I like to save that for special occasions." She nodded towards a bronze plaque that took up the full western wall. "And for memories."

Hwang glanced at it, then looked back. If he tried to count how many names were on that wall, he'd be here all day.

"Of course," General Song said, her smile fading, her arms crossing. "Some people are quite happy to add to that wall. Along with every other memorial we've got in this country."

"Most memorials are holographic now," Hwang murmured. "They're easy to update."

"Oh yes, patches and all that."

"Technically not a patch, but-"

"I know that Major. And I know why you're here." What was left of her smile faded, while her arms remained crossed. "Unless, by some chance, you're not here to…"

Hwang slid forward a small circular device and pressed a button. Holograms of facts and figures were portrayed upwards, akin to paper documents (not that many people used paper these days).

"Course you're not," Song murmured.

"Just the messenger," Hwang said.

"Then the people upstairs are spineless, or you believe them. Or both."

"Just look at them General."

"I have." She shooed the hologram aside, but it remained visible – the device could project the paper at an angle, but it would always remain until Hwang deactivated it.

"Then you know the situation."

Song said nothing.

"That your initiative of relying on drones to combat the Gwishin isn't working."

"Define 'working.'"

Buddha help me. "General Song, assuming that you're looking at the same data I and everyone else in MEKA has, we're not winning."

"Thought you were talking about 'working.'"

"The Gwaishin can build faster than we can. The Gwaishin will always outclass our mechs because we've got to keep ours dumb enough so that they can't hijack their systems."

"That's one way of putting it."

"Which is why the generals are putting it to you that we return to the old practice of human-piloted mechs."

Song got to her feet and began walking over to the other side of her office. Not the one that had the memorial wall, the one that had a holo-screen. Not a window (too much of a security risk), but one that could simulate the effect.

"General, it's unsustainable what we're doing."

She activated the hologram, showing a view of the outside world. In the sky, air traffic moved along as it always did. On the water, everything from hovercraft to small sailboats plied the seas.

"General?"

"You've told me this the last time you were here," Song said. "And the time before that, and the time before that, and the time before that."

Hwang got to his feet as well and walked over to the hologram as well. Song looked at him.

"Do you have anything new though?"

He remained silent. He just looked at her. Short grey hair. Wrinkles that made her look like someone in her eighties rather than late sixties. A lack of any kind of ornamentation. A uniform that like everything else in this damn building, was crisp, formal, and lacking any kind of spunk or charm.

"I play to win," Hwang murmured.

She raised an eyebrow. "I'm sorry?"

"I play to win," he repeated. "Isn't that what you used to say?"

"I don't recall-"

"No, thing is, I do recall."

She began moving back to her desk. "That'll be all Major."

"No, it's not all." He followed her back. "What the hell happened to you?"

"I said that'll be all."

"Was it Overwatch? Talon? The omnics? Was it when people learned the truth that MEKA was barely holding on?"

"That's enough major."

"When your husband died? When the Third Omnic Crisis happened?"

"Major, one more word-"

"When did you become so afraid?!"

He didn't realized that he'd slammed his arm down on the desk until he followed Song's eyes towards it. Taking it up, he saw that he'd left an indentation. Under normal circumstances, he'd have been on his knees, thinking very carefully about the future of his career. But now…

"You changed," he said. "Part of me used to get why. Overwatch. Talon. MEKA. When I saw the old vids of you, and saw the person you were, I thought, 'hey, sure. E-sports star turning mech pilot turning vigilante turning whistleblower? That has to change someone."

She didn't say anything. She just took her seat again.

"And hey, also made sense at the time. People were dying in those mechs, and there aren't actually that many people who can pilot them as well as you or your old squad. So, sure. Go back to drones. Makes sense. If we can't beat the Gwishin, we can at least contain them, and save lives while doing so."

She still said nothing. She just sat there, staring.

"But it isn't working," Hwang said. "I get that, the generals get that, half of this country gets it. Which leads us to the conclusion that we need to start recruiting human pilots again."

She snorted, turning her chair aside. "I suppose you're going to get those pilots, are you Hwang?"

"Of course. If we sent out the call, projections are for over a million-"

"I said pilots, not volunteers."

"And as both of us know, there's always going to be gems among the pebbles. This isn't new."

"And I suppose you'd volunteer for active duty again."

"Of course."

She glanced at him. The look in her eyes told her that she could tell he meant it.

"Why?"

And he could tell that the question was genuine.

"Why?" he asked.

Didn't mean he didn't understand why.

"Why?" she repeated. "Why would you go back out there after your arm?"

"Because…" He sighed. "You have any idea what it was like to grow up in the eighties? Seeing you, top of your game? I mean, here's you, hero of South Korea, MEKA star who gets to tag along with Overwatch to help bring down Talon? Who saved the world from the Second Omnic Crisis? Who finally comes clean about MEKA but says that she's still going to fight? You have any idea what that does to a kid?"

She didn't say anything.

"I climbed into a mech because of you. I went back into the field after a cybernetic graft because of you. When you recalled all pilots from active duty, I didn't object, because I thought couldn't do anything wrong."

"And now?" she asked. She spun round in her chair again, looking at him again. "What do you think now?"

"That…" He sighed.

"Well?"

"That…you're past your time?" He hated saying this, but someone had to. "That you need to step aside? That your emotions are clouding your judgement?"

"And they're not clouding yours?"

He opened his mouth, then closed it.

"We can consider the long game if you want," General Song said. "We put pilots back in the field, sure, we might do better. We might beat the Gwishin back more easily. But it doesn't remove the problem. Problem won't be removed until we get the technology that allows us to get to the bottom of the South China Sea and fight effectively while we do so."

"And until that day…"

"Until that day, I want to keep as many people alive as possible. To, ah, play to win."

Hwang frowned. "You're using that phrase again now?"

"Liberating as it is to not play the k-pop girl who climbs into her mech for shits and giggles, yes. Because if there's one thing that e-sports taught me, it was the worth of playing the long game."

"But this isn't e-sports."

"No. But real-time strategy? Yes." She shrugged. "Or turn-based. Whichever analogy you'd prefer."

"What I'd prefer is-"

"I know what you prefer Major Hwang. I know what a lot of people would prefer." She leant back. "Chances are that the people who prefer that will get their way one way or another. Doesn't mean I need to send more people off to die before I have to."

Hwang got to his feet. He pocked the holo-projector and put on his cap. "I'll pass on your decision to the boys upstairs."

"Do that." She leant back and pulled something out of her desk. "Here. Take this."

She tossed it to him and he caught it, frowning. "Seriously?"

"What? I have a sweet tooth."

"So some things don't change?"

"No. And some things…" She sighed, glancing over at the wall. "Some things do."

Hwang didn't follow her gaze. He knew what name she was looking at.

"General." He saluted. She didn't look back. She just sat there. Staring. Leaving him to see himself out, and open his 'present.'

"Nano-Cola, enjoy!"

Frowning, he took a sip.

It tasted too sweet.