by J D Astra
I got in line behind Hana at the third review station of five. It was impossible to keep my heart from racing, so I opted to put a slight smile on my face. Anyone checking my vitals would see an excited young man ready to enter the city, and nothing more.
Hana set her bag in the drawer and faced the clear plate to chat with the agent. He ignored her attempts to converse and set her pack on the table. He forced a steady stream of golden ma munje into the bag from the palm of his hand. After a moment, he cut the stream and returned the bag to Hana.
I stepped up and placed my bag in the drawer. When the agent’s eyes were not on me, I released a fraction of ry and infused my face and throat with the spell of deception. The agent searched my bag with ma, but kept one hand on the pack when he was done instead of passing it back.
“Anyone come into contact with your bag other than yourself?” he asked with a mild Kokyun accent that passed over the R’s quietly.
I nodded and spoke formally. “Yes. My instructor retrieved it from the sea when our boat was capsized. Same as all of us.”
The agent’s mask wrinkled in a practiced frown. “Sorry to hear of it. What is the purpose of your stay?”
“I’m an exchange student,” I spoke the partial truth with ease. I’d practiced holding a neutral face with the deception spell a hundred times in Min-hwan’s presence; this agent was no different.
The man nodded, then turned to my bag and opened it, pulling out the clothes wrapping my picture. He removed the photo, placing it on the table, and inspected the frame. “Is this your family?”
“Yes. My siblings grow so fast now we just add their new pictures to this one,” I said with a chuckle to hide my pounding heartbeat.
The agent smirked behind the cloth mask. “I have a few young ones, too.” He took the back of the frame off, inspecting the edges with diligent care. Ma trickled down his fingers and zipped along the outside of it, highlighting cracks and holes at it went.
My heart threatened to burst from my chest as the agent squinted for closer inspection.
“Is this custom made?” he asked.
I swallowed to wet my dry throat. “Yes. I’m from outer-city—eh, the more rural region. This was put together by a noi-ne down the road from me in exchange for fresh fruit.”
He nodded. “I’m sorry, young man, but we’ll need to hold onto it for the duration of your stay. Metals over one hundred grams in weight aren’t allowed.”
I jerked into a deep bow to hide the crack in my stoic mask. “My apologies. I didn’t know.”
“It’s a new restriction,” he assured me as he set the frame aside.
A dozen thoughts bounced around my brain as I tried to think of the right statement. I rose from my bow slowly, trying to buy time. “I sure will miss seeing my family,” I muttered, just above audible.
He zipped up my pack, a look of pity in his eyes. He put the bag in the drawer and returned it to my side of the barrier. “We’ll keep it safe. Have a nice stay.”
What else could I say?
“How will you know to return it to me before I leave?” I asked, hoping to convince him it was too much of a hassle to hold for many months.
The agent pulled up a tablet that had been just out of view below the clear window, then turned it to me. The image of my face—a picture taken just moments ago—looked back at me. Information dotted the side of the screen in symbols I didn’t know well enough to read. “We have all your data here. When you enter the harbor to depart next year, we’ll retrieve any items we’re holding from a nearby long-term storage location.”
“So much information to file and items to move... Sounds like such an inconvenience for just a little picture,” I said with a chuckle.
The smile disappeared from behind his cloth mask. “We’re finished. Move along, please.”
I nodded and retrieved my bag slowly. There was nothing else I could say that wouldn’t look suspicious. We would just have to rework the plan without it.
“Thank you,” I whispered sadly in one last attempt to garner enough pity to break the rules.
He did not call me back, and I kept walking to meet Hana and the others at the exit. Hana put her hand on my shoulder with big, heartbroken eyes. “You can still see them in your memory,” she said louder than necessary. Her eyes flickered over my shoulder to the agent, and she glared like a protective friend.
“Did it work?” I whispered without moving my lips.
Hana grumbled and looked back to me. Her brow was pinched in anger, but I could see the fear in the way she couldn’t hold my gaze long. This was no time to be thinking of the consequences or the next step.
“What would you like to eat first? I’m starving,” I said in a chipper tone. It didn’t clean the angry, fearful look from her face, and I knew I had to do something.
Her overreaction could make things worse for us, and make the agents look deeper into what the frame was. Perhaps the metal weight excuse was the truth, or perhaps it was a convenient lie to confiscate it and implicate us in some later plot. I didn’t know how far Dokun’s influence reached, but I had to assume it was here at the docks, too.
The formality training all the Bastion students had undergone seemed to evaporate after I made the casual comment. The rabble near the exit rose at a steady pace as more and more students made it through inspection and whispered with their friends. It was just loud enough to hide one irregular comment.
“Just breathe,” I whispered to Hana and gently squeezed her hand.
She looked in my eyes, and the stress on her face melted away. A smile graced her lips and she nudged me with her shoulder. Hana was an excellent liar.
Sung-ki brought the room to silence with a single, ry amplified clearing of his throat.
Everyone came to attention.
“Because we were attacked on the sea, we will be escorted to the school by the Kokyu special citizen force, Jido Machina. Please, say thank you for the protection,” Sung-ki requested with slow gravitas.
“Thank you for the protection,” we chimed together with practiced ease.
The other students smiled with excitement. Special treatment was a sign of respect from Kokyu. Sung-ki knew different, and told us so with his lingering gaze. This was an armed guard from Dokun to observe us and look for me.
“The Enjiho will meet us just outside. Follow me, students,” Woong-ji said, waving us forward.
The Jido Machina were a citizen operated unit of law enforcement owned by Dokun’s company, Yamato Corporation. With much of the country’s fighting force spread abroad, the cities had become far less safe. Dokun’s offered solution was adopted by the people without resistance—in fact, they’d been grateful.
We had reviewed information on the Jido Machina over the summer with Min-hwan, since we knew it was likely we would encounter them as obstacles. Enjiho, roughly translating to “servant” or “aid,” were bots that could be easily controlled, even by the very feeble citizens, and still wield significant power.
The Enjiho were built similarly to the shape of a man with two long arms coming from wide shoulders—devoid of a head, I was happy to see—but they also had two shorter arms protruding from the chest. The torsos were covered in compartments for non-lethal accessories like fist cuffs to disable munje release, weaponized night-draught to subdue rowdy fights, and other items that weren’t discoverable by our informant.
The bots had a camera on each shoulder, front and back, giving the operator a three-hundred-and-sixty-degree view of the surroundings, and were excellent at keeping the peace with their mere presences. Bar patrons weren’t inclined to gamble or brawl if they knew someone lawful might be watching.
The Enjiho was a machina marvel unlike anything I’d ever seen, and it would be our biggest adversary on this mission. Now, without that picture frame...
We followed the instructors out to a wide reception hall where dozens of passengers from the other exchange boats were undergoing the same process out in the open with much l
ess diligence. They had only pulled the Bastion students into a side room for closer inspection, which meant someone was suspicious of that pirate attack.
‘What was that question? Had anyone else touched my bag?’ I whispered to Mae.
“They think you’re smuggling something in,” she confirmed my line of thought.
‘But who ordered our inspection? Dokun or the king?’ I asked fearful of her answer. The king of Kokyu must’ve known as much about me as Dokun did—but different details, like my level of involvement with the incident last year. The king could think I was coming for revenge against his country. His reign wouldn’t survive another war, but taking no action from a counterattack would be seen as weakness by his loyal citizens.
“Time for that later,” Mae said, then her presence disappeared from my mind.
I turned my thoughts to the sight outside the door as we reached the exit. Smooth metal train cars zipped by several meters above our heads. I blinked slowly, unable to register what I was seeing. There were no tracks, no wires, no supports... nothing.
Were those trains flying?
I sucked in a deep breath and stepped through the glass door to the city street. Clean and tidy citizens walked with purpose through the clean and tidy roads. The trains buzzed by overhead with minimal disturbance, though I could feel some munje power vibrating the air around them. They stopped frequently and pulled close to the towering buildings around us.
A train pulled up to the building just ahead, and two women disappeared from the train. The train pulled away and revealed it wasn’t simply a window on the building, but a sliding glass door.
“Whoa,” Yuri breathed.
“Same,” Hana said, wide-eyed.
I nodded. I was right there with them. Trains that floated on nothing but air, machina taller than any man with anti-munje weaponry, constant surveillance... Who knew what else waited for us in this advanced city of the enemy?
Chapter 9
I LEANED FORWARD AND looked all the way up to the top of the buildings around us. They were twenty or more stories taller than the tallest skyscraper in Busa-nan, but the walls were made almost entirely of glass. Trains ran at the fifth level and somewhere around the fortieth, too.
My palms grew sweaty at the thought of riding that top-level train. I wasn’t afraid of heights—natural heights at least. Without knowing how those trains stayed in the air, I just couldn’t trust them.
Below, prismatic light projected over the streets lined with well-manicured flowerbeds and short shade trees. Little cafés peppered the street-level, creating a jovial atmosphere of relaxation on the ground despite the looming danger directly overhead. There mustn’t have been an incident in a long time for the citizens to be so calm about thousands of tons of metal that could come crashing out of the sky.
Robotic whirring and stomping feet drew my attention to the right. Four Enjiho units marched in slow formation, then stopped in front of us. They were two and a half meters tall, sheer black with a gold Yamato Corp logo across the chest beneath a red, engraved mountain peak. The weapons along their waists were much more intimidating in person, and I felt the collective apprehension of the students around me.
“Welcome to Kokyu!” the lead bot said in an older, feminine voice. The Enjiho all bowed, and compulsion drove me to bow back. There was a human on the other end of that bot, so it made sense to show courtesy—especially since many of them were my senior. More than anything, I wanted to take one of the Enjiho apart, discover how it worked, and how so many citizens could project their ma munje like I could—remote connection, Mae called it.
“Please follow us to transportation.” The Enjiho turned away and crossed the street to the building with the train stop.
The citizens on the street smiled and nodded as we passed, carefully avoiding bumping us. I’d grown accustomed to the dodge and weave I had to perform on the streets of Busa-nan, so it was strange to watch others taking such care in their movements.
The inside of the neighboring building was worlds apart from the harbor intake buildings. They’d been closed off, clean, but very sterile. This was wide-open spaces, glass, color, art, plants, laughter. It was warm, but not too hot, and the scents in the air were fresh and herby. The first floor of the building was three stories tall, and most of the center was a sitting area for the many different cafes that lined the inside.
We took the glass elevator up in three groups, then all boarded the train together. When we boarded, the train rocked gently, like a boat bobbing on a calm lake. The Enjiho made slightly larger waves, but they assured us it was very safe.
“How do the trains work?” I asked the tall Enjiho who’d addressed us before.
The old woman behind the machina laughed, and I noticed the speakers next to the cameras on each shoulder. “You will learn all about this in school. These trains are among the newest advances Yamato Corp has released. There have been no incidents in three years, so there’s nothing to fear.
“Hold on for departure,” the Enjiho said and grabbed one of the many hand grips above.
The doors closed and whisked us off to the next stop. The train was much gentler than those back home, with no jostling or bumping from the track segments. How in Mun-Jayu did they do this?
‘Check it out,’ I requested of Mae, and released a small bit of ma munje from my toes.
I turned my attention to the glass windows facing the harbor. The tall metal wall blocking the sea had somehow turned transparent from this end. I rubbed my eyes and focused again. The humans manning the barrier could be seen walking through corridors that shimmered with opalescent transparency. The ocean beyond sparkled brilliantly in the afternoon sun.
The other Bastions gasped and moved toward the far window, watching in awe and murmuring to one another.
“How?” I couldn’t stop from asking aloud.
The Enjiho next to me chuckled, then said loudly, “All in good time, my curious minds. We will be at your exchange school—Tsuki no Kage—in a matter of minutes.”
I remembered from our summer investigation that Tsuki no Kage—translating to Moon Shadow—was the closest school to Dokun’s headquarters. We would be close enough to run all our ops... if we had that frame. I’d have to get it back somehow or make a new one.
All thought evaporated as the train turned a corner, revealing the rest of the city. Three monstrous towers of ivory and gold ripped through the sky and into the clouds at the center of the intricate web of city streets. The buildings were enclosed by large, lush gardens and forests at least the size of Namnak.
The three towers varied in height by several stories, and the tallest was branded at the top by the mark of Kokyu—a sword pointed down, wrapped with five colorful ribbons on the hilt. It was missing a few key elements, but it closely matched the markings on the boxes I’d seen in the Wong’s smuggling operation. The tallest tower buzzed with activity as trains ferried passengers about. My palms grew sweatier at the sight of it.
We knew from reports that King Hisachi didn’t allow many Enjiho on the premises of the leadership buildings. What if an incident happened at that height? Who would be there to save those people? I shuddered at the thought, knowing the answer was more gruesome than I wanted to imagine.
We stopped at the last building in the harbor area, and the remaining passengers disembarked, leaving only Bastion students and the Enjiho on board. The train shuddered as it pulled away—but not all of it. Only our section of the train left the building, leaving two cars behind.
The street was getting farther and farther away as we lifted into the sky and drifted away from the building.
“Please hold on tight,” the Enjiho said, and I tightened my grip on the metal bar next to me.
‘I don’t like this,’ I whispered to Mae as my heart thudded.
My eyes darted to Woong-ji, who looked calm. How could she be calm? What if Dokun was abducting us right now?
“That’s not how he operates, you know that.” Mae remind
ed me, and I breathed slowly through my nose. “He’ll move from the shadows, not out in the open. If something goes wrong on this train, he’d ruin his reputation.”
My fear was irrational, but my heart wouldn’t listen. The train reached its pre-designated height and slowed to a stop. Then loud whirring ramped up all around us.
‘Is that some kind of engine?’ I asked, hoping for an update on that ma munje I let Mae use.
“Not like anything I’ve seen,” she said with wonder. “The train is interfacing with the nanites in the air surrounding it and projecting a polarized field twenty meters in front of it. Likewise, the bottom of the train is using the reversed polarity, hence the hovering and the buzzing air disturbance on the ground. I sure hope we get a better look at this later.”
‘Right there with you,’ I thought, trying to morph my fear into excitement.
The Enjiho counted down together. “Departure in three, two, one.”
The whirring reached a peak and the train jolted forward. Everyone stumbled—except the bots—and the students smiled and laughed. I chuckled along with them, masking my fear of abduction or assassination. The acceleration force on my limbs slowed when we reached the top speed. We flew past the skyscrapers so fast they blurred in a rainbow of colored light and vibrant plants. Another train flew in the opposite direction above us, sending a low rumble through our car.
We spent the next five minutes pressed against the glass as we flew around the protected zone of the king’s palace—a very modest home compared to what we had in Busa-nan. For obvious reasons, there were protective barriers around the King’s Towers. Anyone needing to get in would have to do it on the ground.
Yuri knocked on the Enjiho next to me. “Excuse me, but why don’t you guys use these over the ocean?”