Subterfuge: A Cultivation Academy Series (Bastion Academy Book 3)

by J D Astra

  “Cho, Yuri?” I gasped. My voice was muffled in my own ears.

  My throat ached and I coughed, sending plumes of concrete dust into the air. I rolled to the side and pushed myself up on my elbow. That’s when I saw it clearly: Ko-nah, but with my face, stood on the edge of the crumbling second floor next to Dokun. Both had arms raised—red power flowing from Dokun and blue from the image of me. The red supported the train, while Ko-nah’s blue held aloft massive chunks of stone ceiling.

  Hana tugged on my doppelganger’s arm, pleading something I couldn’t hear. Ko-nah turned and said something back. She stepped forward, grabbing his face in her hands and planting a kiss on his lips. My stomach turned, a primal heat bubbling in me.

  No, this was her duty. Dokun was watching, and she had to keep up the act.

  Hana ran from the ledge and Ko-nah, his face stricken with confusion and pain, turned back to the destruction. His eyes met mine through the floating stones and fleeing bodies. He moved his mouth, the Busaneo word for “run” taking shape on his lips.

  I climbed to my feet and searched the ground for my friends. Cho was face down in the rubble but roused at my touch. A gash over his left eye leaked blood down his dirt-caked face.

  “Yuri,” he said desperately, then stumbled to his feet. We found Shin-soo who had curled himself over Yuri, and helped him to his feet. He too had blood running down his neck from some head injury, and Yuri wouldn’t rouse.

  “We can’t hold it much longer!” Dokun’s amplified voice burst through the noise of the wailing crowd.

  Cho pulled Yuri up into his arms, and we climbed over the boulders of destroyed ceiling and broken seat fragments toward the exit. It was even louder in the dusty lobby. Students covered in white, chalky debris and blood milled about, looking for their friends and anyone who could help.

  Cho found a fragment of chair cushion and knelt, resting Yuri’s head against it. He pulled three vials from his interior pocket—one for each of us—then a fourth with a green stopper for Yuri. I drank the potion in a single gulp. Invigorating waves of calm power roused my fearful mind, and I became alert.

  I stood on my toes, searching the crowd for our instructors. I caught sight of Sung-ki’s tall frame and catfish moustache, then waved my hand overhead to call him to us. He brought Woong-ji, and we all crouched around Yuri. Cho tilted her head back gingerly and poured the potion into her mouth.

  A second later, she gasped awake. She looked up at Cho, bewildered, then around at the group of us. “Well, this isn’t going quite as we planned,” she said in a raspy, slurred voice.

  Hana pushed through our ring and knelt next to Yuri. “Where are you injured?”

  I wanted to pull Hana up into my arms and hold her close, but I was wearing Ko-nah’s face. I kept my eyes pointed down at Yuri, though my heart begged for me to check Hana for injuries. I had to keep up the act, just as they had.

  Yuri blinked her eyes out of sync. “Mostly my head. I think. I don’t know.”

  Hana’s hands emanated black zo, and she touched Yuri’s stomach, chest, neck, then head. Her munje soaked into Yuri like dry soil drinking water.

  “We should abandon the next steps and go straight to evacuation,” Shin-soo said.

  If we ran, all we would save was our own lives. If we ran, Dokun would come to power and subjugate all the people of Kokyu, maybe the world, to his idea of a perfect future. No munje, only machina.

  I pointed up to the second floor. “Ko-nah is still in this. We have to come through for the people of Kokyu and the future of the world.”

  “I’m still in,” Cho said, determined fury in his eyes.

  “Same,” Yuri said, using Cho’s offered hand to help herself up.

  “Not like I have a choice, but of course I’m still with you,” Shin-soo said, wiping blood from his temple.

  “We know what’s at stake if we fail. I’m ready,” Sung-ki said.

  “I’m with you.” Hana reached out for me, then tucked her hands behind her back. We still had an act to put on.

  “Master?” I asked.

  Woong-ji nodded. “Let’s finish this.”

  Chapter 35

  YAMAMOTTO SET THE TRAIN down on the rubble of the auditorium. From my vantage on the crumbling balcony, I could see red splashes painting the windows of the used-to-be train car. My hands trembled as I looked down at the destruction.

  My stomach flipped upside-down below my hammering heart. A million thoughts raced through my restarted mind. I hadn’t been entirely wrong about the roof, but my miscalculation may have cost us the mission if Yamamotto had noticed. Jiyong was still alive, but would they run or complete their mission? If I didn’t do my part and he was on the other end waiting, they would be waiting for nothing, and perhaps die for nothing.

  “Jiyong,” Yamamotto said, shaking my shoulder.

  My gaze snapped to him, and I took a panicked breath.

  “We have to go,” he said. “We don’t know if another attack is coming.”

  I nodded vigorously, unable to conjure Jiyong’s personality in the moment. I followed Yamamotto through the narrow, creaking halls. Boards had collapsed in on themselves, blocking our way to the stairs. I didn’t see Hana or sign of struggle, and had to assume she’d made it out safely before this or found another way.

  “Go back, there’s another way down.” Yamamotto grabbed my arm and pulled me along.

  I couldn’t say or do anything but follow. My racing thoughts were pinned on the others. He dragged me along through the buckling halls and down another set of stairs that led toward the stage. We reached the bottom to the sound of terrified, painful screams. The entrance to atrium had collapsed, pinning a man half under the rubble.

  Yamamotto reached out a red glowing hand, infusing the debris with his munje, and then lifted his arm. The rubble pushed up and out of the way, compacting against the walls. Two bodies, mangled and bloody, lay motionless ahead of him on the ground. I rushed forward and pulled the screaming performer out of the way.

  His legs and pelvis were crushed, dragging uselessly as I moved him. “He’s badly injured,” I reported.

  The performer’s eyes rolled back, and his screaming ceased.

  “There’s nothing we can do for him,” Yamamotto said. “Leave him for the rescue Enjiho; they’ll take care of him.”

  “But if we leave him like this he’ll die here,” I protested. I knew the reality of the situation, and I knew I had to leave him, but Jiyong wouldn’t have given it up without a fight.

  Yamamotto bent down and pushed a wave of black munje into the man’s chest. “I’ve slowed his heart. This should keep him alive until a rescue team arrives. We must go now, Jiyong.”

  Tears came to my eyes and I nodded.

  Yamamotto pushed me forward. “I’m right behind you.”

  We rushed through the backstage area, following the flow of performers and stagehands as they fled for the exits. It was all chaos and confusion, following marked signs that pointed us to safety. I tripped on abandoned set items, but Yamamotto dragged me up to my feet before I could be trampled. He held me under the arm and kept up with the crowd.

  The streets outside the performance hall were swarmed with injured and dusty performers. The noise from all their screams invaded my thoughts, pulling me down into a pit of terror. I breathed heavily as the noonday light faded to night, and fire blazed around me. Raiders ran through the muddy streets, setting the simple shacks of Gan-ji alight, murdering anyone who stepped in their way, and thieving everything they could grab.

  “It’s not real,” I whispered.

  A hand fell on my shoulder, and I jumped, looking at the offender. It was Yamamotto, tears in his eyes. “This is very real. It is what happens when power goes unchecked and transforms men into monsters.”

  I closed my eyes, willing away the hallucination. When I opened them again, the horrific scene from twelve years ago—the day I was ripped away from my village—was gone, replaced with a new nightmare. Elegant wo
men in ripped and bloodied silks cradled their glassy-eyed comrades, wailing over their bodies. Some stared into space, unable to process what had happened. Others screamed, unwilling to accept it. Passersby gathered at the fringes of the action, some stepping in to provide aid or relief.

  Shadows stretched over the ground, and I looked up to see the floating trains navigating a space to set down in the street. Armies of Enjiho poured from the doors of five vehicles and approached Yamamotto for instructions.

  He pointed them this way and that, giving orders like an organized leader—because he’d had time to plan and knew exactly what to say.

  “Jiyong, I need to get back to headquarters to sort out what’s happened. You should get back to Hana,” Yamamotto said when he’d finished directing the Enjiho.

  “I do want to get back to her and the others, but great-uncle... I want to help you figure out who did this. I know I can—”

  He shook his head. “This is a matter for me and my team.”

  I took a deep breath and prayed my ry glimmer was still holding. I pulled down the collar of my robe to reveal just a hint of what would be the machina disc. “We can help you.”

  Yamamotto’s eyes bulged, and he looked from me to the spot on my chest. He grabbed my hand and slid the robe back up, then looked at me in silence. His brow furrowed as if he were mulling something over.

  If he wasn’t going to bite, I’d have to push harder. “Please, great-uncle. I just want to help get to the bottom of this, and I think I know where to start.”

  “That boy from Moon Shadow who warned us?” he asked, wide-eyed with recognition.

  It was obvious to me he was playing a game. He wanted me—or rather Jiyong—to follow this lead and make these assumptions. He wanted Jiyong to get involved, and I had no doubt the carefully crafted evidence would point to King Hisachi. This had always been Yamamotto’s aim. He wanted Kokyu.

  “The boy is Ko-nah. He’s in the business of breaking countries, who knows why? He was involved in the attack on Busa-nan and may still work with my former father. I think he was trying to back out at the last second when he stood to warn everyone, so we know he’s not the only one pulling the strings, and he may yet have a shred of dignity. If she—” I tapped my chest—“and I could connect to your surveillance systems in the Enjiho, I bet we could figure this out.”

  “Don’t tell people about that idly, my boy,” Yamamotto whispered, then looked around nervously. No one was looking at us amid this horrible chaos. He sighed. “It could be dangerous.”

  “Not anymore than it already has been. Your Enjiho can protect us, right?”

  He thought on it a second more. “All right. Come with me.”

  We walked through the crying crowd, and Yamamotto never looking down once. I had to admit, it was easier to keep walking if I didn’t take in the suffering. It was no wonder he was avoiding the dead eyes of those he’d gotten killed.

  We boarded one of the floating trains that had dropped off a host of Enjiho. Yamamotto moved to the far end and placed a gold glowing hand against the wall. There was a click, click, whir and a once invisible panel opened on the wall. I almost reached up to tap on the little monstrosity imbedded in my back but stopped. This wasn’t the right time to be using his machina, no matter how important this information might be.

  Yamamotto fiddled with some basic-looking controls, then gave it another burst of ma munje. The train doors closed, and the vehicle jolted to life. In minutes, we were flying at maximum speed toward his office.

  “I don’t want this to sound condescending, but I’m proud of you,” Yamamotto said after a moment.

  “What for?”

  He took a seat on the bench at the front. “You’re a young man who knows what’s right, and you’re willing to put your life on the line to make it so. I need men like that.”

  I sighed deeply and looked out at the city. Plumes of smoke rose from other impact points.

  “My family needs me, too,” I said with a hint of sadness.

  He hummed. “But one day they won’t. One day, your mother will be cured, your siblings grown up and capable... What will you do with yourself?”

  I wracked my brain for what Jiyong had said all those months ago. He wanted to be a historian, something something, discover the secrets of the ancients. I would’ve thought he’d gotten enough secrets burned into his chest his first year and didn’t need more.

  “First I need to find a way to get us separated,” I said, tapping my chest again. “Then I want to become a historian and uncover the secrets of the past.”

  Yamamotto stared out the window. “It’s horrible what they left us. They had technology advanced beyond our wildest dreams, and destroyed it—for what?”

  I scowled. “They destroyed it?”

  “I’m still piecing it together, but I believe so. If I had a smart, capable young man like you on my team of historians, I’m sure we could figure it all out,” he offered with a smile.

  “I’ll consider it. Thank you for the opportunity, jobu-ke.” I wasn’t in a place to accept any offers on Jiyong’s behalf, and I was sure the jig would be up soon anyway when the little metal bastard squatting on my spine was unleashed in his laboratory.

  We landed on the rooftop of the headquarters and took an elevator down to Dokun’s top-floor office. He gestured for me to sit at his desk, and my heart raced. He hadn’t taken me through the portal to his lab, and if I were discovered here this soon Jiyong wouldn’t have a chance to prepare. I needed to stall and get Dokun to open that doorway.

  I sat at the desk and put my hands on the controls, then closed my eyes. I allowed a fraction of stored ma munje to flow into the machina, saving as much as I could for Jiyong’s later use. I scowled, hummed, and then opened my eyes to look at Yamamotto.

  “Is there a machina more closely related to the surveillance footage storage? There’s a lot of different systems here, and that’s making it confusing for her.” I pulled the words out of my rear, hoping they’d be believable enough to earn me passage into the secret room.

  “There is a storage unit in my private office that holds the footage from the last sixty days.” He held up a closed fist, then spread his fingers wide. A burst of golden ma munje erupted from his hand into an archway, and on the other side, a room full of machina I’d never before seen.

  This was it. I hoped Jiyong was in position.

  I hesitated at the opening, and Yamamotto smiled kindly. “I’ll go first.”

  While his back was turned, I reached a hand up and pretended to scratch myself, then gave a tap-ta-ta-tap-tap on the metal frame of the machina pinned to my spine. Yamamotto stepped through the portal. It rippled like disturbed water, making my skin crawl. What was it?

  On the other side was a tall ceilinged room with no windows, and no visible door. There were tall, boxy machina all around the room with displays laid into the tops and control panels at waist height.

  Queasy fear pulled on my stomach as I realized the truth. There was no escape from this room, and no escaping this ending. But I’d known that already, hadn’t I? The confidence of the others and the potions they’d provided had given me a false sense of hope. Maybe I could’ve survived if I just tried hard enough, played the game smart enough.

  The soft, tear streaked kiss from Hana’s lips fluttered through my thoughts as I accepted the end and followed Yamamotto to my doom.

  Chapter 36

  WOONG-JI CREPT AROUND the side of the Enjiho control building in front of me, completely invisible aside from a faint purple shimmer. I followed, pressing myself hard against the warm, sunbaked metal. Two pairs of heavy footsteps approached, and we both stopped. I knew the Enjiho couldn’t see us, but it was instinct to make myself even smaller. I held my breath, making no sound at all.

  The two towering machina passed us into the building, and we were quick to follow and move out of the way. Sensors beyond the opening fired beams of blue light through the air. The Enjiho passed through and stopped. The
beams turned green and there was an affirmative beep from overhead. The guard at the terminal to the right beyond the beams waved them forward, then went back to staring at the text emitting from a small disc in his palm.

  I knelt and put my hand to the floor, releasing a small stream of ma munje. I closed my eyes and breathed slowly, seeking the system that operated the beams. The floors were alive with hundreds of different data streams, all leading out of the facility. I only hoped those lines led where we thought they would.

  “Found the power supply,” Mae whispered to me and led me through the machines. There were simple switches that operated the beams and simple replies the beams would register when passed through. I had no doubt that data would be fed to Dokun himself, and that anything that wasn’t Enjiho passing through the beam would set off an alarm.

  I grabbed Woong-ji’s hand and crept closer to the beam, then disabled it. We stepped through, keeping our footsteps silent. The guard looked up from his disc, and I returned power to the beams. He shook his head, scowling at the display screen in front of him, then turned his attention back to the text from the disc.

  We crept through the plain, wide hall until we reached a door that said Refueling on the front. I had no idea what fuel the Enjiho ran on, but I had a feeling the data regarding fuel usage would be observed and transmitted, too. Dokun was the kind of man who built his empire on the exploitation of information.

  I turned away from the door and kept up the search. There had to be a room that would give us the power to transmit sound through the Enjiho. The operators transmitted their real voices through them, so it had to be possible.

  We passed the doors for Storage, Dispatch, and Employee Locker, before finding Operations. There was a window on the door, revealing a treasure trove of control panels and display screens. Two people sat at the screens, adjusting views and pressing buttons at lightning speed. The Enjiho were on-site at a bistro that had been rammed through the front with one of the floating trains. The limited color view obscured the color of blood on the stone, but it was easy to tell what it was.