by J D Astra
Of course they wouldn’t trust children with something so important as saving the world. Sure, our contribution would help, if we managed to gather any intel at all, but in the end, Min-hwan knew we couldn’t be trusted with something so vital. Our paltry skill would never give us a fighting chance against Dokun—a master of machina and controller of who-knew-how-many pieces of Mae.
“Jiyong?” Hana asked, touching my arm.
I snapped from the terrifying thoughts and gave her a gentle smile. “I was thinking about Minjee.”
Hana smiled kindly and cradled my face in her palm. “They’re doing okay, don’t worry. I know Ryni is looking in on them.”
She had believed me. It was true, I had been thinking about Minjee, but that wasn’t what worried me. Yet somehow I—Jiyong the truth revealer—was able to tell a small lie.
I beamed. “Thank you.”
She slid her hand from my face to my leg, which distracted me from my worry for the briefest of moments. She looked out the window, anxious lines spreading in her forehead from concentration. She was looking for threats—for Dokun’s interception.
We arrived at the train station unscathed and snaked our way through the express line to our reserved transport. The general public line was quite long, but those of us who had reserved a train at a certain time got preferential treatment. There was also an emergency lane—one that surpassed even the reservation lane. It allowed people experiencing time sensitive situations to bypass everyone to get to the hospital or their place of work.
It was our turn to get out onto the boarding platform. I wasn’t surprised to see four Enjiho flanking the vessel, motioning for us to enter. Two more waited inside for us, and I put myself as far away from them as possible. If they were going to go ballistic, I wanted as much time as possible to overtake them before they did too much damage—if I could. There was no guarantee that my ability to remote into machina would work on the Enjiho, who seemed to be piloted in a similar way.
The train started up and departed the station without issue, but I feared that was short-lived. If Dokun wanted to kill us, this could be an easy way to do it without blame. Nothing exploded, we didn’t fall out of the sky, and within a few minutes, we’d taxied out of the station airspace to accelerate to maximum speed. The chatter of the crowd was distracting with my nerves so high. Every sharp laugh from the students around me pulled my attention, despite my best efforts to stay focused.
“May I have your attention,” one of the Enjiho stated in an aged masculine voice. It put its hands overhead and waved them slowly to gain the focus of everyone in the train.
I swirled ma munje in my closed fist, ready to throw it at a second’s notice. My skin prickled with goosebumps in anticipation of the fight. Hana prepared herself in a similar way, strengthening her stance and sending zo to her fists. Cho looked to me in a panic, then resolve washed over him when he saw us preparing for battle. He nudged Yuri, who picked up the cue.
The train slowed to a stop mid-air, and the Enjiho went on. “It’s my great pleasure to personally invite you to visit Yamato Corp in place of your regularly scheduled cultural excursion. But only if you would like, of course.” The voice chuckled deeply, and my nerve endings came alive with fear. The older voice—so reminiscent of my father’s I felt sick—oozed confidence. I knew it was Dokun.
The sixteen other students gasped in awe and cheered. “Yes,” and “Of course,” they shouted.
“Instructors?” the Enjiho asked as it turned to Woong-ji and Sung-ki.
They were silent, and the students looked at them with quiet, pleading stares.
“The Shrine has been a cultural destination for many years,” Woong-ji said, shaking her head. “We would be doing Kokyu a disservice if we didn’t visit.”
“Yeah, I want to see the laser beam shrine,” Yuri protested.
The Enjiho drooped, its shoulders slumping as if it were sad. “I understand.”
The other students begged, whining, “Please? We may never get another chance,” and “What if we go to the shrine next rest day?” bubbled up from the group. I hoped no one would notice how quiet I was in the corner.
This could be an abduction attempt, but it could also be the very invitation we needed to collect data. Even if we couldn’t connect to Dokun’s machina systems and get access to critical information today, Mae and I could gain valuable insight into their security and layout. That would be essential to have for executing our mission with the bot. Dokun likely wouldn’t try to abduct me with so many witnesses—unless he planned on handling all of them.
Still, unlikely. Murdering all the Bastion students wouldn’t go unnoticed, and if Dokun was attempting to take power in Kokyu, he couldn’t have a mark like that over his head. We knew the people were tired of war. If their new leader had killed students from another kingdom, there was no telling how bad things could get. No, I didn’t think Dokun would risk it, and neither did Mae. I could feel her confirmation of my thought process at the edges of my mind.
The Enjiho pointed a finger into the air. “I know. What if you take a tour of the facility, and then we throw a luau on the beach, in customary Kokyu style of celebration. We could visit the shrine in the evening, when it glows with the munje of a thousand offerings.”
“Luau?” the others asked, their eyes sparkling with interest.
The Enjiho perked up further, and I couldn’t help but feel Dokun was manipulating the other students somehow. Perhaps our jang-ryzo protected us from whatever spell he was casting from afar.
“We’ll roast a whole boar on the beach, light massive bonfires, sing, dance, and drink special elixirs into the night. It’s very culturally appropriate, and the shrine is a greater spectacle in the dark.”
“This is a great honor, especially if all fees will be paid for?” Ena asked the Enjiho Dokun.
Dokun chuckled. “Yes, of course. I’m happy to provide all transport for free, and the luau is at my expense. All your students—not just the Bastions—are welcome.”
The others went mad with desire, begging our instructors, some even on their knees. There had to be some kind of mental manipulation in play. Sung-ki grimaced and looked to Woong-ji.
“Only if everyone agrees,” she said, laying the burden of choice on all of us. “Raise your hand if you’d like to visit Yamato Corp.”
The hands of the other students shot into the air before she’d finished her request. I raised mine as well, getting a curious look from the Bros, but they followed suit—all but Yuri. Every student on the train stared daggers at her until she rolled her eyes and raised her hand.
“I guess if the laser shrine will look cooler at night,” she said in defeat.
“Excellent, hold tight,” Dokun’s Enjiho said as the train turned.
The engines whirred to life, and we rocketed off toward the Yamato Corp factory at the outskirts of Sonma. It grew in size every second, and so did my fear. Perhaps I’d miscalculated the probability of our demise. What if Dokun had some other terrible plan in store for us?
Hana held my hand the whole way there, and I anchored myself to the feel of her skin on mine. Her warm, callused palm was a comfort to keep my nerves steady. As we drew nearer, Yamato Corp eclipsed my view outside the window. The comfort of Hana’s hand in mine turned to icy dread. If something horrible did happen here, Hana, Cho, Yuri—everyone—would go down with me.
The train jostled gently when we touched down.
“Please, follow me,” the Enjiho controlled by Dokun said, and waved us to the exit. One of the machina waited at the door, ushering us out, while the other walked across the concrete courtyard.
Tall deciduous trees with green leaves defying autumn lined the path into the building. Stone benches peppered the way there, but were unused. Intersections from one building to another cut through the path, and machina of all shapes and sizes moved about between the facilities. Some were short and fast, with colorful lights blinking all over them. Those stopped every few moments, a
nd Mae overlaid my vision with their activity. The shorter machina were transmitting data to the taller Enjiho bots when they paused together.
“It looks like adjusted orders. Dokun may be clearing a path or giving a call to arms. We may have made a grave mistake,” Mae said severely.
I sighed, then cycled. I would fill my reservoir to the brim with ma munje and hope for the best.
‘Keep track of our exits,’ I thought as we neared a tall entryway.
“Always do,” she replied.
The building front was clear glass for two stories. There were no metal frames dividing the glass or any other support that I could see. The doorway was grand, at least five meters tall, but had no frame. The glass doors shimmered red and split down the center, opening inward.
I flicked my fingers at the wall, depositing a small burst of ma in it as we passed. ‘Analyze that, would you? I want to know how it works.’
“Oh sure, keep track of the exits, Mae,” she mocked me in my voice. “Analyze complex data, Mae. Don’t forget to cycle some more munje, Mae.”
‘Stop being a pain. This is serious,’ I snapped back.
“Roger that, there’s a serious stick up your ass,” Mae replied, laughing.
I withheld my scowl, but only just. ‘What’s wrong with you?’
“Nothin’, t’swrong wich you?” she slurred.
The dread that had been gathering on the periphery of my mind blossomed. I sought out Mae’s disc with my mind’s eye and my ma munje as I held tighter to Hana’s hand. I followed Hana’s lead and turned my attention inward.
Zaps of blue light misfired and crackled into empty space—my chest. The tingling had been so slight I hadn’t noticed, but there was most certainly something wrong with Mae.
“Nothin’ wrong wit’ me. I feel great,” Mae slurred again.
I gritted my teeth. Perfect, just perfect.
My eyes focused on the path ahead as the Enjiho led us through the clean, white entrance hall. There were plush couches—unoccupied, of course—and potted plants, sparse pictures on the walls, but otherwise nothing. It was so devoid of culture I thought it might collapse in on itself.
There was a tall staircase to the right leading up into the second floor, and several shorter, ground floor halls that snaked off into the building, but our destination was obvious: the elevator. It was a massive glass box in a glass tube, and I remembered seeing it on our way in. It went to the top of the building. It would be difficult to escape from there, unless we learned to sprout wings.
The Enjiho paused at the door to the elevator and motioned for us to get in. All twenty-three of us and the machina crowded into the glass box. It seemed to expand and breathe with us, growing in size to accommodate our needs. How was that possible?
“Maybe you’re crazy,” Mae said to me with a giggle.
I couldn’t get her expert analysis, but I could do my own. I flicked another burst of ma into the glass wall of the elevator. We ascended as I followed the crystalline pathways of the material before me. It filled up my vision with the same highways as Mae’s disc, like a complex information network. It wasn’t glass, that was for sure, but what was it?
I spared a breath and twisted my two inner bands to en and ma. This was a simple enma spell to transmit information about the material’s composition, but analyzing it took a great deal more effort. If I were an expert-level Geomancer, it wouldn’t have been a problem to identify the material with a thought, but I wasn’t, and Mae was out of commission.
“Nuh-uh,” she said in a childish tone that infuriated me.
‘Yes, you are. Listen to yourself,’ I thought with frustration. There was no point in arguing with her; she was beyond reason. All I could do was hope she wouldn’t do something stupid, like talk through my chest. Better to prevent that before it became reality...
I postponed my analysis of the material around me to send a burst of ma to her disc to disable the microphone.
“Hey, that was my voice!” she blared loudly in my mind.
‘I’ll give it back when we’re out of danger and you regain your senses.’
“Big meanie,” she whispered. I saw her crossing her arms in my mind’s eye and turning away.
I ignored her and focused on the ma returning to me with en munje data. It was complex and difficult to decipher, but it didn’t look like stone, or metal. It was a slow-moving liquid of some kind, which would explain its ability to expand. But how had it done that?
The elevator slowed to a stop, and I looked outside to see we’d reached the top of the primary building on the campus. The other students rushed out, their giddy excitement palpable. I still had a deadly grip on Hana’s hand, and part of me realized she needed the anchor, too. She was scared.
The Enjiho led us down a narrow hall lined with ry display paintings. The lights swirled and danced, the subjects of the paintings moving of their own accord like they had minds and agency. Perhaps they did, if they were anything like Mae.
We reached the end of the long hall. The Enjiho placed one metal hand against the wall, leaking a small portion of golden ma munje into it. The wall came alive with light and sound, beeping in the affirmative. The door opened, revealing a large, well-lit room of shimmering glass and ry light displays.
“Welcome,” Dokun’s human voice called from beyond the portal. “Please, come in.”
Chapter 20
“WELL, ARE YOU GOING to come in?” Dokun asked again when none of us moved.
The warm invitation sent chills across my arms and up to my neck. My heartbeat thudded in my throat, and I swallowed back sickness. If he were anywhere near Ena’s level of munje mastery, he could have us all on the ground in seconds, but something told me he was well beyond that.
The other students moved forward with tentative reverence, bowing as they entered. Those who had gone in “oohed” and “aahed” with delight as Hana, Cho, Yuri, and I lingered. We couldn’t act rashly and incite a war, but if we did nothing and walked willingly into Dokun’s trap...
“Are there a few stragglers? Don’t be shy,” Dokun said, and the Enjiho behind us urged us forward, corralling us into the room ahead. I circulated zo down through my arms and legs, preparing even in small margin for whatever might happen on the other side.
It was like stepping into the future. Light displays around the room revealed technical specifications for machina, shipment information, invoices, and cost analysis. At the center of it all was the floating face of a young man who watched us in eerie silence.
My nerves were electrified at the sight of the tall man at the far end of the room. He wore a black fitted jacket that looked something like what the ancients used to wear, with a white shirt buttoned up to his neck. His medium-length hair was slicked back, and silver streaks accented the deep black color. His eyes were a haunting jade just like my father’s—and mine.
“Welcome,” he said, opening his arms to us. His gaze was locked on me when he spoke. “I’m so grateful you were able to come for a visit.”
It was as if he was talking to a relative he hadn’t seen in years. His familiar tone squeezed my heart in my chest, and suddenly I was homesick. I thought of relic diving in the ancients’ tomb not far from our home in Namnak with my father, my mother’s oxtail soup, and Eun-bi’s garden.
Zo munje plunged down my spine like icy water, and the homesickness dropped away, revealing fear in my tight stomach. Mae had used my munje to snap me from the trance, but when I reached out to find her in my mind, she was nowhere to be felt. She was hiding, but still listening.
“I have so much I want to show you,” Dokun said as he stepped around his desk made of the same transparent yet reflective material as the elevator. His technology was far beyond any of ours. I knew in my heart if he ever decided to wage war on Busa-nan, we wouldn’t stand a chance.
Which was why we had to prevent it from ever becoming a possibility.
Dokun didn’t spare a glance for any other student in the room, approaching m
e directly. He smiled, revealing unnaturally white teeth. “Well, are you ready for a tour?”
I kept my jang-ryzo strong and my racing thoughts away from the danger we were in. There was something about Dokun’s eyes; I couldn’t look away from him. The whole room hung in uncomfortable silence as we stared at one another, Dokun awaiting my reply to a question I no longer remembered.
“Students,” Ena hissed, her head bowed. “Thank Yamamotto-sama for his hospitality.”
“Thank you, Yamamotto-sama!” everyone chimed together. Hana squeezed my hand, and I realized I’d missed giving my thanks, sparking a twinkle of amusement in Dokun’s eyes. It was as if he knew everything I was thinking and everything we had planned. No, I had to get out of my own head. He didn’t know everything, and my barrier was still strong.
Ena cleared her throat, and I glanced over. She raised her eyebrows expectantly and nodded toward Dokun.
I bowed deeply, exposing the back of my neck to him. “Thank you for your gracious hospitality.”
“So formal!” Dokun laughed and placed a hand on my shoulder. I tensed under his grasp but controlled the urge to fight or flee. I came up from my bow and Dokun still wore a bright smile as he said, “That’s no way for my joka-yi to greet me.”
It was as if the room held its breath, and I could hear the dust particles floating on the air. The whispers broke out. Hana’s body trembled with pent-up zo next to me. She was a loaded shot ready to fire.
Dokun had used the Busaneo word for grandnephew as if it were a common thing he’d called me all the time. I knew the only way to keep a handle on the situation was to defuse it using the same language.
I cycled a breath for a calming wave of zo and shared a little with Hana, then pasted a familial, friendly smile on my face. “Apologies, jobu-ke Dokun. This is our first introduction, and I wanted to make a good impression.”
