Iron Jaw and Hummingbird

by Chris Roberson

  One of the principal benefits of being able to stand, though, was the ability to approach the windows and look down, to see the ground slip below them, even the clouds themselves when the airship rose high enough. So when the navigator raised the alarm, and brought Zhao and his lieutenants from their posts to the forward viewports to see for themselves, Huang was able to lean his head against the window, craning his neck as far around as possible, and catch a glimpse of what had aroused so much excitement.

  It took a moment for the shadows and shapes and specks of color far below to resolve themselves into anything intelligible. And even when Huang realized what they were, he wasn’t sure at all what he was seeing.

  “Bring her down!” Zhao barked from the forward part of the gondola, and the pilot at the makeshift controls nodded grimly before pulling levers and flipping switches to begin the airship’s descent.

  “What is it?” called one of the bandits who couldn’t get near the windows to see for himself.

  “Atmosphere mine,” Jue explained, brows knit above his goggles, his scar just visible over the line of his breather mask. “The one that went in two years ago. Looks like the miners are striking.”

  “I worked in that mine for a time,” put in another bandit. “But it weren’t no mine, it was a damned open grave!”

  “Seems the miners agree with you,” Zhao replied. He lifted a pair of binoculars and turned to peer down through the viewport. “They’re carrying signs, looks like. Calling for better working conditions. More safety checks. Higher wages.”

  “Feh,” Ruan scoffed. “Why don’t they just ask for wings, a pony, and their own private moon while they’re at it? They’re just as likely to get those as anything they’re wanting.”

  “Well, seems like the Green Standard agrees with you,” Zhao said.

  Huang had straightened to hear the exchange, the shouted voices muffled by the thrum of the engines, but he leaned back to put his head against the window once more. The bandit chief was right! The yellowish green shapes down below were crawlers of the Green Standard Army. And the ring of antlike figures were uniformed soldiers, here and there fluttering the Green Standard on a pike. But who were the figures enclosed within, in their motley and rags? The miners?

  Most of what Huang remembered from his military instruction was how to win in a game of elephant chess, when to deploy soldier and when chariot, how to block an opponent’s horse and how best to flank a general, but those were merely pieces on a board, not living men in battle. Still, he remembered enough of military strategy, he thought, to recognize a classic containment maneuver. The small shapes at the outskirts of the ring of soldiers would be riflemen, properly braced against the ground, lying lengthwise with their weapons trained on the “hostiles” within the ring, to prevent them from breaking and escaping (but remaining careful not to fire on their own men). Then the soldiers in the ring would draw their weapons, favoring knives and swords, and advance slowly on the hostiles, closing the ring around them like a noose. With their avenues of escape closed off, the hostiles would be forced to stand their ground with enemies approaching from all sides. So long as the soldiers maintained numerical superiority, the hostiles would be hard pressed to stand against them.

  But this was a tactic to be used in warfare, usually against a less-armed foe. Why would the Army of the Green Standard now be using it against simple miners?

  “Bring her down, pilot!” Zhao shouted from the viewport.

  “What have you got planned here, Chief?” Ruan’s expression was suspicious.

  “All the way,” Zhao shouted to the pilot. “Set her down!”

  “Chief?” Ruan grabbed Zhao’s arm. “What’s this to do with us?”

  Zhao wheeled on the skeletal bandit, eyes flashing behind his goggles. “Those are our brother miners. We’ve no doubt worked side by side with them, or with those who have. Should we leave them to the tender mercies of Ouyang’s thugs, just because there’s no profit in it? Our brothers?!”

  Ruan lowered his eyes, shamed.

  Jue stepped forward, hand on the pistol holstered at his belt. “You heard the chief!” he shouted to the other bandits. “Shift yourselves, and make ready to hit sand.”

  As the bandits prepared to disembark from the airship, Huang glanced once more out the window, feeling his pulse quicken. Perhaps this was his moment to escape, after all? With the Green Standard Army so close by, he need only free himself from his chains and he could race to one of the crawlers, and to freedom. He had to keep careful watch for the opportunity and, when the time was right, make his move.

  Still, as the bandits checked their firearms and loosed their swords and knives in their scabbards, Huang could not help but be plagued by a nagging thought. Why were Green Standard soldiers attacking a group of striking miners, anyway?

  The airship touched down, and the deckplates vibrated with the pounding of feet as the bandits raced out the hatch and onto the red sands beyond. The last to leave was the pilot, who keyed in the sequence of controls to keep the engines idling, and then with sword in hand he followed his brothers out into the fray.

  Huang was left alone.

  Through the window, he could see that Zhao had ordered the airship touch down some distance from the mine where the soldiers encircled the striking miners, beyond the range of their firearms. If the crawlers had carried any heavier ordnance, it likely could have reached the airship’s position even at this distance, but as no mortar shells had yet come whistling toward the airship, it seemed likely that the crawlers didn’t carry heavy weapons or that the soldiers were too occupied to fire if they did.

  With all the bandits now racing to aid the miners, Huang had only to rid himself of his chains and he would be halfway to freedom.

  Provided, of course, he could rid himself of his chains.

  Finally, Huang had to admit defeat. Even though he could move some distance in all directions, there were no tools or implements at hand that he could use to unfasten the collar from his neck or remove the chain that bolted the collar to the bulkhead. He was as trapped as he’d have been if he’d been left chained up in the Aerie, far from freedom.

  What made matters only worse was his realization that the keys that Zhao used to secure the chain’s locks were hung on a peg on the far side of the gondola, in plain view, but easily three times the length of his chain leash away. There was no hope that Huang could reach it, of course. But if only someone were to come along who could!

  From his vantage point, Huang was unable to see where the bandits had gotten to, but imagined they were now busy mixing with the soldiers, taking the side of the striking miners; he could hear the distant thump of weapons fire. Huang gazed longingly at the keys, muscles straining helpless against his chain leash, when a noise from the open hatch startled him. Heart in his throat, hands twisted into fists at his side, he wheeled around at the end of his tether.

  There were three of them, lurking beyond the open hatch with rifles in hands, bayonets gleaming at the ends of the barrels. Men in the uniforms of Green Standard guardsmen, their expressions grave, regarding Huang with naked suspicion.

  It had been so many weeks since Huang had seen any faces but the bandits’ that he was at first taken aback. Then he regained his senses and called out.

  “Help! Oh, please, help!”

  Having taken in Huang’s chains, the soldiers now warily slid their gazes from one side of the gondola to the other, and then slowly mounted the steps and climbed through the hatch.

  Huang went to speak again but realized his voice must be muffled by the mask, his appearance hidden by the goggles. Holding his bound hands up to his face, he was able to wrench the mask off and then slide the goggles down around his neck.

  “My name is Humming—” Huang began, then choked, realizing what he was saying. He swallowed, remembering himself. Straightening as much as he was able, weighted by the heavy chain, he tried again. “My name is Huang Fei, and I am a Guardsman of the Second Rank in the Army
of the Green Standard.”

  The trio of soldiers exchanged suspicious glances.

  “I was taken prisoner by these bandits weeks ago, on the road to Far Sight Outpost.”

  One of the soldiers nodded slowly. Then, keeping his eyes on Huang, he spoke out of the side of his mouth to his companions. “There was a convoy hit on that road, just as he says. But I didn’t hear anything about any officer took prisoner.”

  “Please!” Huang held up his hands, showing the bonds, and then looked down at the heavy links chaining him to the bulkhead. “If it weren’t as I say, why would I be chained up like this?”

  The soldiers exchanged another glance, then shrugged. “Fair enough,” one of them said. “What do you expect us to do about it?”

  Huang was struck dumb for a moment by the casual indifference in the soldier’s tone. It took him an instant to compose a response. Then he pointed to the keys that hung on the hook at the gondola’s far side.

  “Those!” He gesticulated to the keys wildly. “Bring them here. Unlock me!” He almost jumped up and down, so anxious was he, and he glanced nervously out the window, watchful of the bandits’ return.

  One of the soldiers shrugged again, dramatically, and then went and fetched the keys. While he crossed the floor to where Huang stood and went to work on the locks, the other two soldiers began poking through the barrels and crates lashed here and there in the gondola, glancing nervously from time to time to the open hatch.

  Huang’s full attention was on the chain securing him to the wall and the soldier who was taking far too long with the keys and locks to suit Huang’s tastes. Finally, though, the last lock clicked open, and the collar fell away in two pieces. Huang was freed.

  Huang rubbed his neck, which was covered with thick calluses from the constant presence of the collar for so many weeks. He went to thank the soldier who’d freed him, and found that he had joined the other two in opening and inspecting the various bins and crates lashed to the deck along the sides of the gondola. It seemed to Huang that the trio were searching for something without knowing quite what they were looking for. Then one of them held aloft a bejeweled necklace of gold that the bandits had taken in their last raid, his face split in a wide grin. The other two rushed to the crate where the necklace had been found, eagerly pawing through the contents.

  It was only then that Huang realized what the soldiers were doing. They were ransacking the airship, searching for valuables. They were planning on stealing from the bandits.

  Shaking his head in disgust, Huang rubbed his chafed wrists, and with a final distasteful glance at the bonds and chains that now lay scattered on the deckplates, he made his way to the hatch.

  Once outside, Huang felt exposed, vulnerable. His hands ached for a weapon, and he thought to call back to the soldiers within the airship to see if any had a knife or pistol to spare him. But now that he was outside, he was able to get a clearer view of the ongoing melee near the mine, and what he saw stopped him in his tracks.

  Though it was some distance away, the wind was still and there was no dust obscuring his view, so Huang was able to see it all clearly. The miners were unarmed, trapped within the encircling ring of soldiers. And the distant thump of weapons fire he’d heard had not been shots exchanged on either side, but instead was the sound of the soldiers in their entrenched positions opening fire on the unarmed miners, mowing them down. The only thing preventing the encounter from being a complete and immediate slaughter was the timely intervention of the bandits, who now attacked one side of the ring of soldiers, creating a break in the circle and allowing the miners a slim chance for escape.

  The miners carried only signs demanding safety and better wages. Splints of wood from which hung banners painted in crude ideograms, nothing more. And the soldiers were firing on them as though they were a heavily armed enemy force.

  Huang stood frozen, unable to move, not sure what to do. Surely this was not what it meant to be a soldier. Was this the life to which he hoped to return?

  So caught up was Huang with the thoughts racing through his head that he almost failed to hear the sound of the three soldiers clomping back down the gangplank. He turned and saw the trio stepping onto the red sands, carrying armloads of plundered goods, their pockets bulging with jewels and gold coins and other trinkets, their bayoneted rifles slung from their shoulders.

  The three came and stood beside Huang, watching the ongoing melee with evident admiration.

  “Damned miners,” one of them said, and spat in the dirt.

  “Filthy beasts,” another agreed. “They don’t deserve no better than a bullet in the brain, if you ask me.”

  The third nodded. “They should know not to rise above their station. Keep to their place next time, I should think.”

  Huang narrowed his eyes, his teeth gritted, and looked from the smug, complacent soldiers, heavy laden with loot, to the miners caught in the crossfire, and the bandits who now risked life and limb to come to their aid. He remembered how the miners themselves must have risked life and limb in just the same way, every time they went down into the mines. He thought of the bandits he’d come to know, those who had kept him as a pet, who had lost limbs or loved ones in the thankless task of mining. These men and women had dug from the red soil the metals that made buildings and vehicles, and even the chemical constituents of the air he was now breathing. The bandits had been miners and had found themselves unable to improve their lot, so that now, as bandits, they fought back the only way they knew how.

  “Damned bandits should have stayed out of this,” one of the soldiers said with a sneer. “Now they’ll end up as dead as the miners.”

  “Still,” another said with a wicked grin, and pointed with his chin at the armload of loot weighing him down, “not bad for us, eh?”

  Huang’s blood boiled, and the world went red before his eyes. All thought of escape was forgotten. There was something else he had to do first.

  Huang struck without thinking, without planning. One minute he was standing in the midst of the three soldiers, hands clenched into fists at his sides, and the next he hurled himself at the last soldier who’d spoken, throttling the man and knocking him to the ground.

  The other two looked on with expressions of shock and anger but clung too tightly to their bundles of precious plunder to act quickly, which gave Huang all the advantage he needed.

  Without delaying an instant, Huang reached down and snatched up the fallen soldier’s bayoneted rifle, yanking it off the man’s shoulder, and then swung around to train the rifle’s barrel on the soldiers stills standing.

  “Drop your loot and your weapons!” Huang snarled, bracing himself with one foot and tightening his finger on the trigger. “Do it and run, or I’ll kill you where you stand.”

  The two soldiers looked to each other, confused, then back at Huang. The soldiers didn’t bother to answer but opened their arms to let the loot fall, shrugged their shoulders to let their rifles fall to the dirt, and then took off running back toward the crawlers.

  The bandits, once they’d broken through the ranks of the soldiers, had joined with the beleaguered miners and shared arms with them. The soldiers, now facing a combined force of bandits and miners, had seen the value in a strategic withdrawal, quickly losing interest in the encounter when the odds shifted enough that any of them might find his own life in peril.

  A handful of the miners now returned with the bandits to the airship, evidently deciding to join the bandits’ ranks. And they were not alone.

  When Zhao and the others reached the airship, bruised and bloodied from their encounter with the soldiers, some supporting or even carrying their wounded fellows, they were surprised to find Huang sitting on the edge of the open hatch, a rifle across his knees, an insensate soldier sprawled in the dust before him.

  “What’s this now, Hummingbird?” Zhao looked from the fallen soldier to Huang with a slight smile tugging the corners of his mouth. “Our pet has slipped his leash, but instead of flyin
g he stays and presents us with a mouse he’s caught. Is that it?”

  Huang stood and slung the rifle onto his shoulder. He noted that Ruan and a few of the others had their weapons at the ready, wary of any move Huang might make against them.

  “I didn’t fly because I have nowhere to go.”

  Zhao narrowed his eyes and jerked a thumb back over his shoulder, indicating the column of dust on the horizon that followed the retreating Green Standard crawlers. “What about that lot? They’ll be back soon enough, in greater numbers, if I know their type. They won’t want to tell the governor-general that they failed, so they’ll return with enough guns to do the job right next time. You can always join them, since they’re your sort and all.”

  Huang shook his head angrily. “They have nothing to do with me, Zhao.” He chewed his lip thoughtfully. “If it’s all the same to you . . .” He swallowed hard and nodded. “I’d just as soon go back to the Aerie.”

  Zhao arched an eyebrow. Beside him, scar-faced Jue wore an amused grin.

  “But not as your damned pet,” Huang went out, standing straighter, chin held high. “I’ll be a bandit, if you’ll have me.”

  A smile began to spread across Zhao’s face. The bandit chief glanced at Jue, who only shrugged in response, and Ruan, who scowled angrily.

  “Fair enough!” Zhao surged forward and clapped a hand on Huang’s shoulder. “You’re one of us now, ancestors preserve you.” Zhao grinned broader. “But you’re still Hummingbird, all right? Your other names are just too damned unpalatable.”

  Huang allowed himself a tight grin and nodded. “Hummingbird it is.”

  ACT III

  DISSONANCE

  EARTH SHEEP YEAR, FIFTY-SIXTH YEAR OF THE TIANBIAN EMPEROR

  WEI WAS SNORING IN THE CORNER WHEN THE REPRESENTATIVE from the camp arrived, so it fell to Gamine to receive her.