Gideon Smith and the Brass Dragon

by David Barnett

  As the Steamcrawler picked up speed, Gideon drew the pearl-handled revolvers and began firing at the beast. He winced as the bullets pinged off its scaly hide. “We need to turn, Inez!” he shouted. “I need the bigger guns!”

  Inez suddenly yanked the steering wheel, and the Steamcrawler veered to the left, Gideon ducking low as the rear of the vehicle slammed into the fragile wooden frame of a house. Inez pulled forward and turned up the hill as the dinosaur came within feet of them, its glistening maw opening wide. Gideon began to empty the bullets from the gun mounted at the back of the Steamcrawler.

  Stung by the bullets, the beast faltered and slowed, glowering at them then redoubling its pace. Gideon fired a whole belt of bullets, most of them bouncing off the thing’s hide but several finding a home in its softer underside, as evidenced by the dinosaur’s anguished howls and the holes oozing with black ichor that peppered its belly.

  But still it came. The gun clicking emptily, Gideon switched to the other one. “Perhaps we can lead it out of the town,” he shouted over his shoulder.

  “We’ll lose speed on the hills,” called Inez. “What about down toward the sea?”

  “Whatever you—” began Gideon, but the breath was knocked from him as Inez swung the Steamcrawler hard to the left and then, incredibly, pulled on the brake lever.

  “What are you doing?” he screamed. They had put another thirty feet between themselves and the tyrannosaur, but the gap was closing fast.

  “Señor Smith…,” said Inez, and he chanced a turn. There, ahead of them in the road, was a woman, her eyes tightly closed, her kimono torn and muddied. She sheltered three tiny children within her thin arms.

  Gideon swore and began to pull at the trigger of the gun. The tyrannosaur was evidently a quick learner because it came in low and fast, snarling, the moon glinting off its green, scaly hide, its soft underbelly close to the ground, its feet pounding the road.

  For a moment its eyes met Gideon’s, and it hissed, as though recognizing him.

  Finally, its gaze seemed to say. Finally, after all this time. I have found you.

  “I’m sorry if Rubicon stole your baby,” he murmured. “But it’s you or me. And I’d rather it was you.”

  As the dinosaur powered toward Gideon, he took aim along the Steamcrawler’s gun barrel. If he could hit it in the eye, pierce the brain …

  “Come on, Louis, if you were ever going to make my aim true…”

  He pulled the trigger.

  Nothing happened.

  The belt was empty, or the gun had jammed.

  The tyrannosaur roared in triumph, its gaping mouth wet and red as it bore down on Gideon, just as the first of a volley of fireballs exploded around the beast’s head.

  * * *

  Maria turned Apep into a steep climb after letting loose the first series of fireballs at the dinosaur, rolling up and over to come in for a second wave. The monster had reared away from the vehicle, and Maria’s heart—or what passed for it—leaped as she saw Gideon in the gloom, staring up at her with astonishment. She laid another series of fireballs around the feet of the tyrannosaur and it turned with a roar, snapping in her direction with its jaws before lowering its head and moving away from the Steamcrawler.

  Maria had come to awareness to find Serizawa wiping oil and lubricant from his hands in the hold of the Skylady III, watching her with interest as she stirred and sat up straight.

  “You are a wondrous creation,” he said. “I have reconnected some pipes that had been severed and tightened a single flywheel. But your body … it seemed to be repairing itself even as I worked.” He shook his head. “I have never seen anything like you.”

  “There is nothing like me,” she said, turning her back to him and fastening her dress. “Where is Gideon?”

  Rowena had rushed into the hold. “Maria, thank God! Are you able to fly the dragon? I think Gideon needs some help down there.”

  Maria pursued the tyrannosaur through the streets of Nyu Edo, guiding it north with a carpet of fireballs. She had already decided not to kill the dinosaur if it had not killed Gideon.

  Bent had told her, as she climbed into the dragon’s cockpit, that the tyrannosaur was a mother, in search of its stolen egg. Maria had no right to kill it, not if she could help it. So she had decided, from high in the sky above Nyu Edo, to nudge it toward the vast forest that she could see to the far north of the town. Let it find its own way. Let others hunt it, if they dared. It was a magnificent beast, a marvel of nature. Who was to say it had no place in the world?

  Perhaps those people would say the same thing about her.

  So she herded the tyrannosaur out of the limits of Nyu Edo, across the hills to the start of the tall redwood trees, and she gave it a smile and a little wave as she pulled Apep up and over the forest that stretched north as far as she could see.

  “Have your freedom,” she said softly. “Consider it a gift from one wondrous creation to another.”

  * * *

  “What do you mean, you didn’t kill it? We could have been eating effing tyrannosaur chops for a week!” said Bent.

  “Hush, Aloysius,” said Gideon. He put his arm around Maria as they sat together in the light from their campfire in the hills, the Skylady III tethered nearby, Apep slumbering beside the ’stat. “I understand why she did it.”

  “Well, I wish someone would effing explain it to me,” said Bent. “Who’s to say that thing’s not going to come back and chow down on Nyu Edo? What was the point of it all?”

  “It will probably die,” said Inez, staring at the flames. “Señor Smith made several good hits to the beast.”

  “She won’t come back, anyway,” said Maria. “She was just looking for her place in the world, I suppose.”

  Bent sniffed. “The symbolism doesn’t escape me. All I’m saying is it would have made better copy if you’d brought the thing down, that’s all.”

  Gideon smiled. “Not everything happens so you can write your stories, Aloysius.”

  “Then what the eff am I doing here?” he said, but he gave Maria a wink. “You think this is my natural environment? Sitting here in the bloody hills of California, waiting for something that should have been dead sixty-five million years ago to wander up the hill and eat me whole?”

  Maria raised an eyebrow. “Eat you whole, Mr. Bent? Are you sure?”

  Bent scowled at her. “You saying I’m fat, Miss Maria?”

  Rowena laughed as she brought out a tray. “Gin and sausages, Aloysius. This will cheer you up.”

  Bent patted his stomach. “I’d better leave the old spicy sausage alone, if everyone thinks I’m fat.” He paused then made a grab for the bottle of gin. “Although I daresay a few shots wouldn’t hurt.”

  Jeb Hart accepted a glass of gin from Rowena and turned to Gideon. “I must say, Smith, you have a rather … unorthodox way of getting things done. But you do get results, I’ll give you that.”

  Gideon nodded. “I suppose I’ll be in all kinds of trouble when I get back to London.”

  Jeb shrugged. “Edward Lyle caught a stray bullet from the Japanese mechanical man. It was all very unfortunate.”

  Gideon stared at him. “That’s what you’re going to say?”

  “I suggest you do, too. Just so we all stay out of trouble.”

  “But why?”

  Jeb smiled. “Because you’re one of the good guys, Gideon Smith.” He drained his glass and stood up. “Well, I’m going to saddle up and get off. I’ll ride through the night until I get to Tijuana, then beg a place on an airship to New York.” He grinned. “It’s been a real pleasure working with you guys. But tell me when you’re next in America, so I can make sure I take a long vacation somewhere very far away.”

  * * *

  They decided to pack up the camp and head overnight to Texas. With the departure of the tyrannosaur, activity had returned to Nyu Edo. A cautious party of uniformed Japanese soldiers had been dispatched to poke over the remains of the destroyed Jinzouningen, b
ut they were roundly ignoring the Skylady III on the hillside. Gideon, Hart, and Bent had buried Lyle in a rough grave before Jeb Hart departed, taking his personal effects to deliver back to New York. Rowena wanted to get airborne as soon as possible, before the soldiers of the Californian Meiji decided they wanted to investigate the ’stat and its passengers a little more closely.

  “What’s to stop it coming back? The dinosaur?” asked Bent.

  Gideon looked into the distant, dark hills. “Who knows? Perhaps Maria should have killed it, after all.”

  Rowena shook her head. “I understand why she didn’t. It wasn’t the monster’s fault. It was protecting its baby, or trying to.”

  “Never had you down as the maternal type,” chuckled Bent.

  She shrugged. “I’m not—” she said, meaning to add yet, but Gideon laughed, also.

  “I can’t imagine you like that, Rowena. Babies and marriage and that sort of life. I don’t see you like that at all.”

  She looked at him for a long moment. No, she thought. You don’t see me like that at all, do you?

  “I suppose you could say the same for Lyle,” said Bent. “Protecting his baby, I mean. And his wife.” He shook his head. “You can sort of see what that would do to a man, losing them when he’s the one who’s supposed to keep the city running. You can sort of see why he went over the effing edge.”

  “Once, maybe,” said Gideon. “Perhaps that was his driving force for keeping the fires on in New York, whatever the cost. But he went too far. Greed and power finished him.”

  “Actually,” said Bent, “I think it was you that finished him. But I know what you mean.”

  “They’ll cope in Nyu Edo,” said Rowena. “They’ll learn to defend the city if the beast ever comes back.” She stared thoughtfully across the hills. “I hope it doesn’t. I hope they don’t kill it. Everything deserves a chance.”

  “They’ll have to learn to defend themselves anyway,” said Bent. “Once word gets out about all that gold in the hills…” He glanced around. “I don’t suppose it’s worth us having a little dig, is it…?”

  “You’re right,” said Rowena. “A secret like that won’t stay secret for long. Nyu Edo will have its hands full if there’s a gold rush over this way.”

  “Did we do the right thing?” asked Gideon. “Stopping Lyle, I mean. He had a mandate from the British government. Maybe we should have let him have his war with Japan. We’re British, after all, aren’t we?”

  Bent shook his head. “It wasn’t right, Gideon, we all know that. If you go to war for the right reasons, fair enough, though I’m more of an effing lover than a fighter myself. But Lyle lied through his arse about the Japanese, made them out to be warmongering savages, just so he could come in and wipe them out for their gold. That’s not right, however you cut it.”

  Bent farted, long and low, and wrinkled his nose. “And that’s not right however you cut it, either.”

  Rowena thought this an excellent opportunity to excuse herself and give the Skylady III a once-over before they took off. She stood on the bridge, checking the instruments. They could get back to the old mine, no problem, but she wanted to fill the balloon as tight as possible with helium, and make sure the framework was patched up right, before attempting to cross the Atlantic in the airship.

  There was a slight movement behind her, and she turned to see Maria, rubbing her hair with a towel. She had finally shed the ragged dress she had been wearing since London and exchanged it for a pair of Rowena’s jodhpurs and a white shirt. Every time Rowena saw Maria, it took a little while longer to remember she was not human. Standing there on the bridge, drying her hair, she looked for all the world like any normal girl. Any normal, breathtakingly beautiful girl, Rowena corrected herself.

  “Thank you for use of the bathroom,” said Maria.

  Rowena nodded. “Hey, us girls gotta stick together.”

  Maria’s smile of gratitude almost broke Rowena’s heart. The clockwork girl said, “I don’t think they understand why I didn’t kill the monster. Do you?”

  “I think I do,” said Rowena. “Sisterhood.”

  Maria nodded excitedly. “It must sound insane. But I felt a … a kinship with the beast. It did what any mother would do, any woman.” Maria tilted her head. “I envy you. It must be wonderful to have the … what do you call it? Brethren?”

  “Esteemed Brethren of International Airshipmen,” said Rowena. “Ah, they’re just a bunch of flyboys who drink too much and tell increasingly taller tales. It isn’t that much fun.” She paused. “You fly. Perhaps you could join.”

  “Or perhaps we could form our own … what did you say? Sisterhood?”

  Rowena smiled. “That sounds like a capital idea.”

  Maria gave Rowena a hug. “Then at least we’ll always have each other,” she said, and departed to help the others load the Steamcrawler up into the hold.

  Rowena watched her go. “Yes,” she murmured to herself. “We’ll always have each other. But only you have Gideon Smith.”

  30

  FREEDOM

  Gideon looked out over the old mine from the cockpit of Apep, as the Skylady III beside them spiraled around to land on the dry prairie. He was amazed at what the new settlers had done so far: Three log houses were already practically finished, and more rose from foundations. Ackroyd’s cattle were contained within a wide corral, and Gideon could see a stream of people carrying buckets of water from the creek. Below them stood a lone man, his face hidden by the brim of his hat, waiting for them to land. The one they called the Nameless.

  At the sight of the brass dragon, everyone stopped and stared, drifting toward them as Maria brought Apep down, its flapping wings stirring up a dust cloud. Rowena dropped the anchors on the Skylady III and brought the ’stat down beside them. The Nameless waved at them, puffing on his clay pipe. As Gideon climbed down from Apep and helped Maria onto the ground, he called, “Job done?”

  Gideon nodded and walked over to him. “My name is Gideon Smith,” he said.

  The Nameless nodded. “I know.”

  “Thank you for helping Rowena hold off the Steamtowners while we went for the dragon. And thank you for looking after Maria.”

  The Nameless appraised Maria for a moment. “So you are alive, then?”

  She smiled. “After a fashion.”

  “I know how that feels,” said the Nameless.

  Bent huffed up. “Bang-up job you chaps have done here,” he said, looking around. “Two questions: Have you built a bloody outhouse yet? I’m dying for a shit, and Rowena won’t let me go on the airship because last time I stunk the place up for four hours.”

  The Nameless smiled. “We’ve one over yonder. You said two questions?”

  “Gin,” said Bent. “For God’s sake tell me you have some. I appear to have drunk the Skylady dry.”

  “We’ve got whisky, Mr. Bent. Will that suffice?”

  “Suppose it’ll have to,” said Bent. “Oh, and there’s one more question, Mr. Nameless, which you can be thinking about while I’m on the throne.”

  The Nameless raised an eyebrow. “Oh?”

  “Yes,” said Bent. “We’ve killed the villains, lost a friend, saved the girl, and gotten back our stolen dragon. We’ve freed the slaves and nearly gone to effing war. But one mystery remains. Just who the eff are you?”

  * * *

  Later, when the sun had gone down, the fledgling township settled into its new rhythm of eating around campfires dotted around the territory, the people helping themselves from great pots of beef stew and beans. Gideon carried a bowl back to a fire bordered by log benches, joining Bent, Rowena, and the Nameless. Inez and Chantico had gone to see the Yaqui and Noshi. The disparate people who found themselves among this strange new gathering would retire to sleep in the existing log cabins or the stone-built mine house, said the Nameless. They would rise early to start work on building more cabins, creating irrigation ditches from the river to the planned crop areas, chopping down trees, and
casting around for stone and other resources.

  “They’re staying, then?” asked Rowena. “All of them?”

  The Nameless nodded. “They’ve got nowhere else to go.”

  “What are you going to call this place?” said Bent. “Misfit City?”

  The Nameless gazed into the fire. “Freedom. That’s what we agreed. It’s a town called Freedom.”

  “Good to have a name,” said Bent, slurping the gravy noisily from his bowl. “How about you? Can’t really be called the Nameless.”

  The Nameless put his empty bowl down and lit his cigar from the licking flames of the campfire. After a long moment he said, “No, I suppose I can’t. That’s what other men call me. I did have a name once … but I can’t remember. Can’t remember anything before April eighteenth, seventeen seventy-five.”

  “You’re in damn fine shape for a hundred-and-fifteen-year-old,” sniffed Bent.

  “I’m older than that,” said the Nameless. “I think I was forty years old in seventeen seventy-five.”

  “April eighteenth,” said Gideon. “That’s when the British marched into Lexington and Concord and put down the rebellion.”

  The Nameless nodded. “When Gideon, the great British mystery man, stopped Paul Revere from spreading the word that the redcoats were coming.” He looked at Gideon. “Your namesake.”

  “I’d never thought about it before I came to America,” said Gideon brusquely. “My mother was a churchgoer. Named me for the man chosen by God to free the people.”

  “The judge of the Hebrews,” said the Nameless. “His name means ‘the destroyer,’ you know.”

  “You a rebel, then, Nameless?” said Bent. “Given you don’t remember anything before the revolution?”

  He puffed on his cigar. “Not sure what I was. Not sure what I am now, to be honest. All I recall is that I woke up on April nineteenth, seventeen seventy-five, with my head hurting like crazy. And something was wrong.”

  “Wrong?” said Gideon.