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I recognised the airship that had struck the ground. It was the Pericles, the very same one that saved my life when I found myself in this strange, strange reality.
Powell's battered and bruised body stood limply as he supervised the escape of his men from the wreckage. His look was dark and wild as he at last saw me. The mask of reluctant politeness no more, he approached me savagely and painstakingly. His baton was still in his hand, which unnerved me. Whether he had the strength to hit me, he undoubtedly had the intent in his eyes.
"In league with our coloured brethren, then, eh? Is this how you repay your saviours, Bastable?"
The last few weeks were a turbulent twister of neverending events which left me weary and no desire to explain myself. Shaw's men were already approaching us. Most of them were Africans, Chinese and a few Indians. Powell recoiled in disgust as a Chinese soldier grabbed his arm to pry the baton away. He glanced at the destroyed airship once more, lamenting its loss. I did so too, privately. The fact that they used a non military vehicle meant they were already desperate. Perhaps Shaw's cause was indeed already bearing fruit. Europe's reign was indeed coming to a bitter end.
"Was it worth it, Bastable? All of China is in revolt, and this disease is already spreading though India! A war is already knocking on the doors of Europe!"
"Perhaps it may as well. Wars are already past due in Europe." I responded tiredly. Indeed.
"So they had won you over, ah? I bloody knew it that you were one of them dirty nihilists and chink-lovers. I wouldn't be surprised if you were also a bloody cutsleeve." he sneered savagely at me. It never failed to surprise me how easily the human ego can shatter and leave only room for animalistic primal urges to hurt and win hollow victories when the stakes grew too hard to bear. I definitely had no qualms about whose side I was on now.
In his ferocious state, he somehow managed to twist his good arm from his captor's grip and it connected with my face with such a force that I stumbled back. The only thing that stopped me from falling over was me bumping into someone that was standing behind me.
I felt a frim hand on my shoulder. It was Shaw. His expression towards the British airship pilot was not welcoming. "You do not get to go around and assault my men, sir." he shouted something in Cantonese which I've come to learn meant 'take him away'.
His men... Right. By definition, I was at this point indeed his man...
Powell scowled at me with all the useless hatred he could muster, and threw one final jab as he was led away by Shaw's men.
"I should have left you on that damned barren mountain to die! You are a disgrace to our nation! Betraying us and going off to play some... some bitch to this barbarian scum! If you had some decency left, you-"
Shaw was actually amused by the Englishman's ranting, as he began to laugh loudly. I only felt pain, but it wasn't even the pain in my face that hurt the most...
Powell growled at the Chinese warlord. "What's so funny, chink?"
A month or two ago I wouldn't have paid second thought to these comments, but the time spent here had taken their toll on me, as I felt anger that had all but culminated thanks to Powell's verbal assault come rushing and bubbling to the surface. I made all but one step at him with my fist balled and raided, when Shaw's grip on my shoulder tightened to keep me at his side. Shaw himself paid no attention to the insult as responded "Nothing. I just find it hilarious that an Englishman of all people would preach about what's decent and what's not."
Powell grunted in defeat and unrelenting patriotic pride as he was led away at last.
Shaw began to walk us back towards the NFB building. He had my arm wrapped around his shoulder for support, as I only now began to feel the affects of the punch I'd received.
"It's not like you to lose your temper this easily." he remarked, bemused.
Obviously, he didn't know me as well as he thought he did. He spent the last couple of weeks frequently visiting me and sharing stories of his childhood and upbringing, trying to get my sympathy for his cause.
Which obviously he had gotten, even without this final nail in the coffin thanks to Powell's savage outburst. There was a small part of me that still resented the fact that he was right. I couldn't deny that feeling, no matter how illogical it was. No one wants to hear about their own people being so cruel for the sake of it. It's always been a painful truth. And the price of that truth I had to pay was potentially help the whole world go to war.
I was still dizzy, the whole airship park seemed to tilt slightly to the right. I had only become aware of the discomfort in my nose and a slightly warm, wet trail along my mouth.
Shaw inspected my face after he helped me sit down as we entered the building.
"Your nose is bleeding. Hold on." He reached into his suit pocket and pulled out a handkerchief. If it used to be white, I couldn't tell, as it had sustained permanent stains from blood. My blood. It was the same one he had used on previous incidents when I'd been injured.
First time was around the second day of the arrival of the air fleets. The collision of two aircrafts produced raining debris that had struck me on the forehead. I hadn't noticed the injury until after we'd retreated to a more sheltered place. His concern was baffling to me. He cared about his people as a leader, of course, but he took it upon himself to make sure I was standing straight, if my vision was correct and if I could recall basic knowledge trivia. I shook it off as him needing me to be in top health to help him carry out his secret plan. No one wants a pilot in ill health, after all. In the midst of all that, he'd taken that same handkerchief and cleaned my face. I still remember the discomfort I felt as he touched my face.
I guess this was why Powell's comment struck a nerve so badly. I did allow Shaw to be closer than one would consider appropriate. During our conversations he'd touch my shoulder, which wasn't odd in of itself, but his hand lingered, his gaze was intense, and he'd even let his emotions out on the occasion he'd talk about his mother. I too felt compelled to shed tears at that story.
But it was my own fault in the end. I allowed him to keep doing these things. The second time I was injured in these attacks was around the end of last week. While we were focused on the assault from above, the French had sent a few soldiers on foot to try infiltrate the city from ground level. It was luck I found them before they had the opportunity to even set a foot upon the cobblestone.
My revolver was empty save for 2 bullets, but there were three of them. I killed the first two in what I convinced myself was cold blood. The third one opened fire and I thought myself gone as I felt pain shoot from my abdomen. But I managed to keep myself conscious and on my feet long enough to tackle him and take his shotgun away from him. In my delirious state, I used the butt of the gun to strike him in the head, but I lost consciousness before I could assure myself that he was dealt with. When I came to be, I was in the infirmary, with bandages wrapped around my torso and a silent Shaw right beside my bed. He confirmed that the soldier had indeed been dead when I was found. As Shaw left, a Chinese nurse entered the room, and she gave me a rather amused look. She had said that Shaw must have considered me a favourite, as he had carried me on his back all the way back to the city hospital.
I sighed with a heavy heart and a painful realization. Now I had also started to kill for Shaw's cause. I truly couldn't go back then after what I'd done.
The rest of the injuries weren't particularly interesting or severe.
"There you go." Shaw said as he pulled the handkerchief back. It was stained red once again. With my blood, that I had spilled for his cause...
And for what reason? Truly.
"General." I asked.
He looked at me, in full attention. I seldom asked him anything.
"Will your city indeed be a paradise for all kinds of people?" I asked weakly, as if I was anticipating an answer I wasn't prepared to hear.
He quirked an eyebrow at me "I've told you before Bastable. New Dawn City will serve as an example to others. We will not be the only Paradise on Earth. We will share our fruit with the world."
"Even for the... wrong ones?" I struggled to find the right word. Homosexuals weren't among the worst people out there, but I did know that it was a sensitive topic in Britain and China alike.
Shaw evidently still didn't know what I was talking about.
"Everyone will have their own paradise. Ours may not be for everyone, but a man will have the freedom to choose a paradise for himself and those who share the opinion with him." he had a dreamy expression, somewhere far off into the potential future.
I thought of Prometheus as I gazed at him, and I wondered what kind of punishment would he bear when the time comes. Would the gods catch him and force him to pay for what he's done? He'd done it for the people, but it was his sin to bear.
"Bastable, have you heard about the myth of Icarus?" He suddenly asked me. I was so deep in my thoughts that I almost didn't even hear him.
He continued "Do you know what his father told him as they flew across the seas? That if he flew too close to the sun, the wax would melt off his wings and he'd be doomed to fall and drown. At the same time, if he were to fly too close to the water, the feathers would become too heavy, and he'd drown." He stood by the window, watching the remaining enemy aircrafts trying desperately to regroup.
He then looked back at me. His eyes bore melancholy, but also resolve as I've never seen before. "I need you, Bastable, to be my wings. I cannot fly without you." He said, almost sadly, as he got down to my level. He held my hand so gently as he spoke on.
"There isn't anyone here I'd trust with that more than I trust you."
At that moment, I both thanked the invention of airship, and resented it to the bone.
"This is crazy." I said, nervousness making my guts churn. I allowed the last vestiges of reluctance and desperate need to flee pass over me, but I trusted him enough. Perhaps I was wrong. But I didn't want to question him.
Shaw nodded "I know. Isn't it exciting?" he beamed at me.
His cheerful attitude made me think he was mad when I first met him. Now, it just brought me melancholy, knowing that I brought him flying high, and with that, crashing and burning brighter than the fires of Sun itself.
I never did forgive myself for that.
The dreamers may die
but their dreams live on
- The empire of the clouds