Shanghai Steam

by Calvin D. Jim

  “Why did you arrest him? What target practice?”

  Zhou did not answer the questions. “Like I said, this is a quiet and peaceful lake.”

  Soong looked at the books lying on the table. In addition to Sun Tzu’s The Art of War, there was a Chinese translation of Carl von Clausewitz’s On War. The General also had a book called Robur the Conqueror by the French author Jules Verne.

  “I see that you like foreign ideas,” Soong said.

  “Foreign ideas are our best weapon against the foreigners,” said Zhou.

  “That is why the military has the Self-Strengthening Movement.”

  “Those funds were spent on a boat made of stone.”

  “I had nothing to do with that,” Soong said.

  General Zhou nodded and sipped his tea.

  Soong broke the silence. “There is a rumor among the local people. Some of them have alleged that you have been charging a tax on them. Is that true?”

  “Yes it is,” Zhou admitted without hesitating. His brazenness surprised Soong.

  “For what purpose?”

  “To develop modern weapons.”

  “But you already get funding to buy new weapons.”

  “Money from the Self-Strengthening Movement is not enough. I need money to develop modern weapons, not just buy guns from Europe.”

  “Perhaps he will understand when he sees our invention,” said a voice from behind. Soong turned and saw a European walking to them. The man wore a white blazer and black pants, looking like a foreign trader in Shanghai.

  General Zhou stood. “Allow me to introduce Monsieur Albert Tissandier. He is an architect and aviator. He piloted a balloon out of Paris during the German siege of the city. He received a bravery medal for that mission.”

  “The General flatters me,” Tissandier said as he shook Soong’s hand. “It is an honor to meet you, Assistant Minister. Please excuse my poor ability to speak Chinese.”

  “Join us for tea,” Zhou said.

  As Soong sipped his tea, he noticed that no walls or barricades blocked off the land between the fort and the lake. Anyone could approach the fort’s rear from the lakeshore.

  Soong heard a dull roar in the sky. In the distance, a cylindrical object appeared above the trees.

  “Is that a balloon?” Soong asked. The object’s speed amazed him.

  “It is similar but not the same. It is an airship.”

  The airship flew closer and closer until it hovered over the shore. Its cylindrical envelope was tapered at both ends. Men peered down from a long gondola underneath the envelope. Smoke and steam rose from machinery behind the gondola. The flag of Imperial China fluttered from a mast.

  Zhou explained how his airship flew. It was made of white canvas stretched over a metal framework; hence, the framework maintained the envelope’s shape. The envelope was full of hydrogen, a buoyant but flammable gas. Six men worked in the gondola. Behind the gondola, an elaborate steam engine drove the propellers. To protect the hydrogen from the heat and fire of the engine, a sheet of asbestos-coated steel protected the lower half of the envelope.

  “It is the most advanced powered balloon in the world,” Zhou boasted.”

  “Remarkable,” Soong said. “Who designed it?”

  “I conceived of the idea and instructed Monsieur Tissandier to design it,” Zhou said. He motioned to the Tissandier, who smiled at Soong.

  Zhou continued. “I built the airship with local labor and materials. The engine and weaponry came from France, but otherwise, the airship was built by Chinese.”

  “Your workers learn quickly,” said Tissandier. “Your country has great industrial potential if its workers are trained and led properly.”

  The opium dealer on the junk yelled again. “Untie me! Let me go!”

  Zhou put down his cup of tea. “It is time for the target practice.”

  He stood up, waved at the airship’s crew, and pointed at the lake.

  The airship flew over the junk. Suddenly, machine gun fire erupted from the gondola. The opium dealer shrieked before the bullets tore through his chest.

  Tissandier grinned and said, “Hotchkiss machine gun, the best in France.”

  Next, four bombs dropped from the airship onto the junk. The boat burst into flames and sank.

  “Congratulations, General, another successful test,” Tissandier said.

  Zhou smiled. The airship turned and descended on the land.

  “The Ministry of War did not authorize the construction of this machine,” said Soong.

  “Do you not see its potential?” Zhou said. “Attack the enemy from the air! Sink their ships before they can carry their soldiers to our shores. In the future, who controls the air will control the land and the sea.”

  Soong guffawed. “All you have done is sink one unarmed junk with one defenseless man aboard.”

  “I have just one airship, but think how a fleet of them will stand up against the enemy gunboats.”

  “It is a brilliant idea,” Tissandier agreed.

  Soong turned to Tissandier. “If this idea is so brilliant, why have the French not used it?”

  “My government is not as forward-looking as General Zhou,” Tissandier said. “Fortunately, it has no restrictions against my selling my expertise to friendly foreign states. Your Excellency, with a fleet of airships, China will rule Asia again. Just stay out of Indo-China.”

  “Do not worry, you can keep Vietnam,” Soong said ruefully.

  Zhou pointed at the airship. “This is what we need to expel the foreign devils and make China strong again.”

  Soong shook his head. “We have bought foreign guns and made ironclad ships. Still, we keep losing. Imitating the Westerners is not working.”

  “Then how do you suggest we fight back?” Zhou demanded.

  “Go back to an old tradition,” Soong said. “Train thousands of men in Chinese martial arts. Instill national pride in them. Revive the wuxia.”

  “We can do that with Western weapons,” Zhou insisted. “Our problem is not the weapons. Our problem is that we use modern weapons with ancient tactics. If we adopt Western military science, we can win a war. Look at what the Japanese have achieved.”

  “I hate the Japanese,” Soong said.

  The airship’s crew marched towards them, halted, and saluted. General Zhou returned the salute.

  “May I inspect the troops?” Soong asked.

  Zhou nodded. Soong went to the first airman and asked, “How did you learn to fly the airship?”

  “I spent a year in France learning aeronautics from Monsieur Tissandier,” the man replied.

  “Interesting. Have you received any training in hand-to-hand combat, sword fighting, or rifle shooting?”

  “I received training on how to operate a machine gun.”

  This man hides behind equipment and fears close combat with the enemy, Soong thought.

  “General, I need to talk to you in private,” he said. “Please dismiss your men and the foreigner.”

  Zhou ordered Tissandier and the airmen to go into the fort. Now only Zhou and Soong stood at the shore.

  “General, thank you for demonstrating your airship,” Soong said. “However, I cannot endorse the construction of such machines.”

  Zhou frowned. “I guess that is why you brought one hundred Bannermen.”

  “As a financial official, I must stop unauthorized taxes and expenditures. It is my duty.”

  “Hah! Your duty is to protect the corrupt Qing.”

  “No, my duty is to protect our country from the foreign devils,” Soong protested. “That should be your duty too. Instead, you are becoming like them.”

  “I am not the foreign devil,” Zhou said. “The Qing are the foreign devils.”

  Soong paused. Then he whispered, “Down with the Qing and up with the Ming.”

  Zhou smiled and nodded.

  “Then join us,” Soong said. “All over China, martial arts masters are training warriors who will rise up against the f
oreign devils. The revival of wuxia is the only way. Join us.”

  Zhou shook his head. “As romantic as wuxia are, I prefer modern weapons and tactics.”

  “We are at an impasse,” Soong observed sadly. “General, I must return to Beijing now.”

  Zhou escorted Soong back into the fort and to the front gate. They bowed to each other, and Soong walked out. The gate slammed shut behind him.

  Captain Arsai asked, “Sir, do you want us to storm the fort?”

  “That will not be necessary,” Soong said. “General Zhou has a strange balloon. It lies on a lakeshore behind the fort. The shore is not fortified, so we can go around the fort and destroy the balloon.”

  “What if General Zhou wants to oppose us?”

  “Then he and his men will leave the fort and engage us on the lakeshore, where we will outnumber him two to one.”

  “A good plan, sir,” Arsai said.

  “Give me a sword,” Soong said. “I will lead the attack with you.”

  Arsai looked shocked. He probably had not expected a civilian official to want to fight.

  “Captain, give me a sword,” Soong demanded again. Arsai ordered his men to bring a dao to Soong.

  The Bannermen split into two groups, one led by Arsai, the other by Soong. They encircled the fort as they ran towards the rear. Zhou’s soldiers fired rifles from the watchtowers. A few Bannermen fell to the bullets. Soong raised his sword and yelled at his men to keep running.

  The two groups met at the shore. The airship sat moored to the ground.

  “That is the balloon!” Soong shouted, pointing his sword at the airship. “Riflemen, shoot at it!”

  The riflemen aimed and fired. Their bullets bounced harmlessly off the airship.

  Soong grunted. The riflemen had shot at the steel-protected part of the airship’s envelope.

  “Aim higher!” he urged. “Aim for the top half of the balloon.”

  The fort’s rear gate opened. Zhou’s men charged out with bayonets fixed on their rifles. War cries filled the air. When Zhou’s men opened fire, the Bannermen shot back.

  “Keep firing at the balloon!” Soong yelled.

  Arsai pointed at two riflemen. “Keep shooting at the airship!” he ordered. “We will cover you.”

  But before the two riflemen could pierce the airship, Zhou’s soldiers swarmed them. One got shot in the chest, and the other got stabbed by a bayonet.

  Hand-to-hand fighting broke out. Bayonets clashed against swords and arrows and bullets flew through the air.

  Soong saw General Zhou, Tissandier, and some officers standing at the gate. Like all generals, Zhou did not lead his troops into combat, but rather, directed the battle from the rear.

  Armed only with a sword, Soong ran through the fighting, towards the gate. One of Zhou’s officers aimed a pistol at him, but the General raised his hand, and the officer lowered his gun.

  When Soong stopped in front of Zhou, the General unsheathed his sword. It was not a traditional Chinese sword like Soong’s dao. Instead, it had a Japanese-style blade with a European hilt. Officers of the modernized armies carried such swords, a sign of their foreign training.

  “General, are you surrendering?” Soong asked, looking at the sword.

  “No, you are!” Zhou cried as he lunged at Soong.

  Soong darted backwards and hit his dao against Zhou’s sword. The clash of steel upon steel filled the air.

  Zhou’s officers raised their pistols. He yelled, “Lower your guns! I will take him down!”

  “Join me!” Soong urged as they fought.

  “No!”

  “Would you rather be a flying devil or a wuxia?”

  “I will be China’s flying devil!”

  They lunged at each other, parrying each other’s thrusts, and passing backwards and forwards. Soong, who had trained with the best swordsmen in Beijing, could not defeat Zhou. The General, despite his Western ideas, fought like a wuxia.

  Suddenly, an explosion rocked the shore. Soong saw the airship burst into a ball of flame. A rifleman must have pierced the envelope and ignited the hydrogen.

  Stunned by the blast and heat, Zhou froze and stared at his burning airship. Soong lowered his sword and watched with him.

  Though Soong and Zhou had stopped fighting, the battle continued. Bullets flew past them.

  Zhou groaned and fell to the ground. Blood poured from a bullet wound in his chest.

  Soong dropped his sword and knelt beside Zhou. The general grabbed Soong’s shoulder and whispered, “Down with the Qing and up with the Ming.”

  Zhou coughed up blood, convulsed, and lay still.

  An officer walked to Soong and pointed a revolver at him.

  “I am Captain Li. I command the fort now,” said the officer. “Your Excellency, hold up your hands.”

  Soong stood up but did not raise his hands. Li glared at him.

  Li said to Tissandier, “You must leave immediately. Wait by the front gate. My men will escort you to the Vietnam border.”

  “Merci beaucoup,” Tissandier blurted as he retreated into the fort.

  Li turned to Soong. “You will tell your men to stand down, and I will do likewise. Then we will negotiate a truce. Do you agree?”

  Soong nodded silently as he watched the airship burn.

  “I thank you most profusely for solving this problem,” said the Minister of War.

  “It was my duty,” said Soong.

  “What was Zhou doing with the money that he extorted from the peasants?”

  “He wasted it on gambling, opium, and other vices,” Soong lied. He had not told anyone about the airship.

  “That is so sad. Fortunately, Captain Li — excuse me, General Li — will be a much better commander.”

  The Minister handed an envelope to Soong. “Please accept this as compensation for the inconvenience that General Zhou caused you.”

  Soong took the envelope and bowed. “Thank you, Your Excellency. I remain loyal and at your service.”

  He used the ten thousand yuan to buy more swords and rifles for the Hung League.

  Four years later, Soong received a visitor from the Society of Righteous and Harmonious Fists. The Righteous and Harmonious Fists was much larger than the Hung League. The foreign devils called them “Boxers,” referring to a combat sport.

  “We are seeking the aid of all martial societies, big and small,” the Boxer said. “Together, we will expel the foreign devils.”

  Although the Boxers declared loyalty to the Qing, their plan tempted Soong. The Han could always overthrow the Qing after expelling the foreigners.

  “We will be your allies,” Soong said. “Destroy the foreigners.”

  In 1899, the Righteous and Harmonious Fists rose up to kill the foreign devils. The counterattack was an orgy of killing, raping and looting. It was China’s greatest humiliation.

  Soong died in combat in Beijing. He and his warriors charged into battle with swords and rifles. The Japanese Marines returned fire with machine guns.

  In Tokyo, Admiral Togo received documents that his Marines had looted from the home of Soong Kanghua, an official of the Chinese Ministry of War.

  Togo looked at the plans for a steam-powered balloon, along with drawings of the balloon dropping bombs on ships.

  How interesting, the Admiral thought.

  On December 8, 1941, Tokyo Time, Japanese airplanes sank five battleships and wrecked three destroyers at the U.S. Navy base in Pearl Harbor, Hawaii.

  The flying devils had come.

  * * * * *

  Derwin Mak’s story “Transubstantiation” won the 2006 Aurora Award for Best Short Form Work in English. He co-edited, with Eric Choi, The Dragon and the Stars, the first anthology of science fiction and fantasy by overseas Chinese, which won the 2011 Aurora Award for Best Related Work in English. He has also written about East Asian pop culture and anime for magazines.

  Legend of the Secret Masterpiece

  Nick Tramdack

  The airboat
ascended through the city shaft, skirting cliff-bazaars and sculpture gardens, gaining the airspace over rickety wooden patios. Sustained by the liftglaze painted on its wooden hull, it soared obliquely over a buttressed bridge. Lights fell past the hull like flowers: paper lanterns in cadmium yellow and stageblood red, sawdust torches in the bitter distance.

  Rainer set his chin on his palm and stared over the gunwale. Wind spoiled the boy’s ponytail, checked at the pink bandanna around his neck. His flannel jacket and canvas shorts couldn’t block the chill: goose bumps rose on his hands and skinny legs.

  The airboat nestled up to a wooden dock cantilevered into the void. Naphtha lanterns lined the thoroughfare beyond it. Under that light a street mapmaker was scrawling one-offs for pedestrians.

  The boatman prodded Rainer with a sandaled foot. “You want higher, kid, you gotta pay.”

  “The heroes always hook rides across the Shaft of Treasons,” Rainer said. “Can’t you let me ride along?”

  The boatman spat. “Pick up your johns at the Hot-Liver, not in my taxi!”

  In fact, Rainer had used this strategy to get customers before. But tonight he was just angling for a free ride to the coin locker in Serapion Square where he’d stashed his warm jacket and some lemon drops and lambskins and a chocolate bar and a dagger. Rainer had just one coin left and he needed it to open that locker.

  “I can’t work the Hot-Liver anymore,” Rainer said.

  “Yeah, well, we all got problems. Now scram!”

  “Ahoy there!” a voice boomed from the dock. “Goin’ up?”

  Rainer turned. The old man’s body looked like a pumpkin set atop a stepstool and enfolded in blue robes. His hair was gray and close and he wore half a dozen gold rings in each ear. Wrinkles and scars marbled his deep brown skin like mahogany. A ceramic wine-jug was clipped onto his empty swordbelt with a carabiner. Typical washed-up hero, Rainer thought.

  “There’s a weight limit, friend,” said the boatman. “And this kid won’t—”

  “I’m in a hurry!”

  Before the boatman could protest, the fat hero hopped into the airboat. But the craft only sank a few inches — for a guy that large, Rainer would’ve expected a foot at least.

  “Which way ya headed, little brother?”