BA3 - Chapter 9

The salty bite of the sea air nipped at my face as we cast off from Heiko. I’d had the best sleep of my life the night before, and wondered why we hadn’t been given the sleep draught sooner. When I asked, Sung-ki said it wasn’t for sustained use, which was unfortunate but made sense. Dreamless sleep every night made the users go mad over a few months, or sometimes weeks. Every mind was different, he said, and so minimal use was best.

We were crammed onto the Silver Dragonfly boat, which was larger than the Swift Sola had been, but it was still much to crowded for comfort. I stood at the edge of the port side, rowing away with the others.

Before we left, Sung-ki had inquired with the dock masters of Heiko about the vessel Kumiho had attacked is in. They had not seen anything like it in their lives, which meant they either sailed around, or had found another way through—which wasn’t impossible.

My nerves were on edge as we rowed, much like the other Bastion students. None of them had turned back after the night of revelry in Heiko. They accepted it had been a random pirate attack who thought the center boats of the convoy would have the goods. The few of us who knew the truth watched the water with hare-hawk eyes.

It took more energy, but I created a reserve of ma for Mae to scan the waters. It wouldn’t give us much of a warning, but three hundred meters was better than nothing. She detected larger creatures below us, too, and even played their sounds in my mind. It was melodic moans and whines with clicking and clacking interspersed. It was unlike anything I’d heard. She called them whales and kept my mind at ease by telling me stories of how the giant gentle beasts had ruled the seas for millennia.

After five more hours of rowing, the tall Kokyu west sea barrier appeared on the horizon. The metal sheet cut across the landscape and ran well into the mountains at least one hundred meters high. There were turrets spaced every twenty meters on top of the wall, and as we got closer, I could see the little dots of humans walking from station to station.

Windows mid-way up the wall opened as we approached, and cannons barrels the diameter of a pumpkin poked out at us. The convoy slowed to a drift as we neared the barrier which still had not opened to us.

Strings of worry looped around my stomach and tugged me back toward home. I’d known what this mission would entail, but seeing the wall for myself was much different than reading about it. I took a deep breath and focused on the very next objective: to get past customs with all our tools.

I could hear a distant voice questioning the lead convoy boat for what felt like far too long. My heart and mind raced, but I kept from showing it on my face or in my body language. Who knew what kind of observational machinery they had? I didn’t want to give any indication I was nervous.

Finally, a high whirring noise indicated our passage approval. A chunk of the metal wall shifted upwards until there was a gap wide enough for three boats to fit through at once. We lined up in our columns—a conspicuous gap where the Swift Sola should’ve been—and moved toward the opening.

Sea water dripped down from the door in great swaths, peppering the boats as we passed into a cold, metallic harbor that blocked our view of the island. We were instructed where to make port, and disembarked in an orderly fashion.

I found Hana, looping my index finger around hers as we stood shoulder to shoulder on the docks, awaiting further instruction. The militant-like guides came one at a time to escort the boats passengers into a tall structure on the other end of the harbor.

I kept my breathing steady and my mind clear of worry as we were directed into the building where our belongings would be searched. Kokyu was stringent about what could be brought into their country, and I was certain a little more cautious after what happened in Busa-nan last year. The customs agents would no doubt review the Bastion exchange belongings with great care.

The dark sheet metal of the building’s outside was not reflected inside. It was a dry, moderate temperature inside and was devoid of odors. The walls, floors, and ceilings were bright white with black and yellow painted instructions for travelers.

We followed our guide through wide halls with various kiosks and windows, each clearly labeled for their purpose. Information, currency exchange, guide programs, disputes, emergency services, and more.

The guide did not talk as he took us down many identical looking halls to our inspection room. He held the door open, allowing all of us to file inside. The room was divided by a sheet of clear plastic at least twenty centimeters thick. There were agents on the other side with masked faces and gloved hands to review our belongings. Metal drawers had been built into the plastic wall where we would pass the agents our affects, and we did so without chatter or hesitation.

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. The man on the other side set her pack on the table, then forced a steady stream of golden ma munje into it 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 agents 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 foreign 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 still 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. He removed the picture 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.

I heart threatened to burst from my chest as the agent squinted for closer inspection.

“This custom?” 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.”

I jerked into a deep bow to hide the crack in my stoic mask. “My apologies. I didn’t know metal wasn’t allowed.”

“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?

I smiled sadly, 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 lowly, 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 with a chipper tone. It didn’t clean the angry, fearful look from her face, and I knew I had to do something.

Her over-reaction could make things worse for us, and make the agents look deeper into what the frame was. Perhaps the metal 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,” Woong-ji 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. Woong-ji knew different, and told us so with her lingering gaze. This was an armed guard from Dokun to observe us, and look for me.

The Jido Machina were a citizen operated unit of law enforcement owned by Dokun’s TK_Tech Company. 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 likely we could 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.

They were built similar to the shape of a man with two long arms coming from wide shoulders—devoid of a head, I was happy to see—but it also had two shorter arms protruding from the chest. The torso was covered in 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.

It had a camera on each shoulder, front and back, giving the operator a three-hundred-and-sixty-degree view of its 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.

It was a machina marvel unlike anything I’d ever seen, and it would be our biggest adversary on this mission. Now, without that 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 less diligence. They had only pulled the Bastion students into a side room for closer inspection, which meant someone was suspicious of that 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’m 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 from 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. I blinked slowly, unable to register what I was seeing. Was that train 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. Trains buzzed by overhead. They stopped frequently and pulled close to the towering buildings around us.

A window on the fifth floor of the building across the street slid open 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.

“Woah,” Yuri breathed.

“Same,” Hana said, wide-eyed.

I nodded. I was right there with them.

By the grace of Jigu, what had we gotten ourselves into?