The Rebellion Engines Page 2

  “We must get inside,” I said.

  Kai moved in front of me and started clearing a path. He was a large man, with thick arms and hands that looked as capable of breaking bones as setting them. The crowd parted easily for him. As we passed through, I heard scattered reports.

  “The main furnace—”

  “All around me, men hurt—”

  It was tempting to stop and ask questions, but my questions would be answered once I surveyed how much damage had occurred and how many were injured. How many were killed. I took a deep breath, clenching my teeth as I stepped through the doors.

  The interior was hazy with smoke, but I sensed it was bad in there.

  “Find the foreman,” I ordered and the boy Po started running, weaving through the crowd.

  Black smoke filled the interior and workers shoved against one another as they tried to find a way out. They were like ants in a frenzy. There was movement overhead as the workers climbed down from the scaffolding around the upper levels. A few of the section leaders had gathered their wits enough to direct their people to the exits.

  Kai and I made our way to the central furnace. The smoke was thickest here, and I pressed my scarf over nose and mouth as we ventured into the haze. Water rained down from the bamboo pipes above. What had been a fire was reduced to a trace of soot and ash. I could make out several figures scattered about the factory floor.

  “Who’s hurt?” I called into the smoke. “Is Yishi Lao there?”

  We followed the muffled reply to find the elder physician crouching over one of the fallen workers. The infirmary’s gray uniform was both meant to be nondescript and to stand out from the darker clothing of the work crews. At the moment, the pale cloth made it easier to pick Lao out through the haze.

  Lao was a man of fifty years of age and had been assigned to Tai Shan for several years. Enough to see several rounds of workers come and go.

  “Broken lower leg, right side,” Lao reported.

  Kai crouched next to the injured man. “Can he be moved?”

  Overhead, I heard the creak of wood and glanced up as Kai assessed the limb. The explosion in the furnace had damaged one of the main rafters. Part of the upper deck had fallen, trapping several workers underneath.

  “We have to get everyone outside,” I warned.

  Kai followed my gaze up to the factory roof. “I’ll get help.”

  “Sound the drums,” I called out after him.

  I didn’t know if the bone-setter had heard me, but he would know what had to be done. Outside, the rest of the medical staff had hopefully arrived to set up the infirmary tent. The incidents of the past year had given us ample opportunity to refine a process. My eyes teared up from the acrid smoke as a knot of fear tightened in my chest. Of all the accidents, this was the worst.

  I turned back to the fallen worker who would have to be carried. There were others still in the area. Anyone who hadn’t staggered up and out by now was probably unable.

  “Go to the next one,” I told Lao, dispensing with any semblance of courtesy. There was another man nearby being dragged out of the rubble. His cry of pain told me he was at least alive.

  I knelt by the worker before me, placing what I hoped was a comforting hand upon his chest. His pulse beat frantically beneath my fingertips. His teeth were gritted in pain.

  Retrieving a vial from my jacket, I jabbed the attached needle into his thigh. The prick would be nothing compared to the pain of the broken bone. “We’ll get you out of here soon,” I told him, hoping it was the truth.

  Then I left him to move on to the next worker. There was no time to be nursemaid.

  I moved through the next few as quickly as I could. The evacuation gong had sounded, sending workers streaming for the doors. I enlisted as many as I could to help take out the wounded. For those who could not be moved, I administered the needle for pain. For the one man who lay unmoving, there was nothing I could do but close his eyes.

  Swallowing past a lump in my throat, I kept going. The worst thing to do in a disaster was freeze.

  Kai had returned with a team bearing stretchers. He began his work of stabilizing broken limbs and instructing the carriers. The next fallen worker was deep in the boiler complex and still partially buried. A section of the piping had collapsed. One of the others knelt over him, speaking to him. As I approached, I could see blood flowing from the injured man’s mouth. I prayed it wasn’t from a punctured lung.

  I took my place at the fallen man’s side, shouldering pushing aside his companions without apology.

  “Can you hear me?” I asked.

  The young man opened his eyes to stare up at me. His face was covered in soot, but he appeared fifteen or sixteen at most.

  “We’ll get you out, Little Brother.”

  It was merely an honorific, but I couldn’t help but see my brother Tian in him. I saw my brother in all the young men who were conscripted from the surrounding provinces to work in the Factories. I had succeeded in having my family relocated to Peking to avoid this fate, but so many other families in the villages had not.

  He groaned as I felt his pulse. No blood bubbled up from his throat with the sound. A hopeful sign, despite being pinned down by falling debris.

  “He was working in the boiler room,” the man kneeling beside him said. He scrutinized my imperial jacket, his reaction obscured by the soot covering his face.

  “Are you the section head?” I asked him.

  He had an authoritative air about him, but he shook his head. “Just another peasant.”

  The sharpness of his response raised the hairs on the back of my neck. I looked down at the injured youth. His eyes had closed again, but his fists were clenched in pain. “Jiang Wen. Help me.”

  Jiang took his friend’s hand and leaned down once more. “Don’t be afraid, Guo.”

  I scanned the debris pinning the injured worker down as the rafters creaked above. “We need to get him out of here.”

  The irrigation system had doused the area, reducing the likelihood of a secondary explosion, but the area was still unstable. I tried to lift the wooden beam to no avail.

  “I already tried that,” Jiang said through his teeth.

  Guo’s voice started to fade as he begged once more for help. I considered going to seek aid when another voice cut in.

  “You need leverage.”

  I looked up to see Chang-wei. He was dressed formally in the black embroidered engineer’s jacket, his hair braided into a tight queue. The look was stiffly out of place, but immediately signaled authority. He met my eyes for a long moment, his expression unreadable other than the deep crease cutting across his brow. Over the last year, the worry lines had come back stronger than ever.

  He searched about the area before gesturing to the workmen behind him. They went to retrieve planks from the scaffolding against a nearby wall.

  “Be ready to move him.” Chang-wei shoved his queue away from his face before turning to position the levers.

  “It’s going to hurt,” I warned Jiang as he took hold of his friend’s shoulders. There was no time for me to administer the needle for the pain. The bone beneath was likely broken if not shattered, and Guo was rigid with shock. The sudden movement would jar the injury mercilessly, but it couldn’t be helped until we had moved him and ourselves away from the accident.

  “On three.” Chang-wei and his crew had wedged the planks, angling them against stone blocks for leverage.

  He began his count and Jiang’s muscles tensed as he prepared himself.

  “Three.”

  Chang-wei’s voice interrupted my thoughts as the workmen lifted the broken beam. Jiang Wen dragged his friend clear of the rubble as Guo let out a scream. His hand grabbed onto my sleeve. The sudden move made me stagger before I caught myself.

  Gently, I uncurled his fingers from my jacket. “You’re free, Brother Guo,” I soothed. “We’ll take care of you.”

  With his eyes squeezed shut, Guo managed a nod. I administered a n
eedle of opium and then another when the first one didn’t take as quickly as I’d like.

  Kai had returned with a stretcher and more of our medical crew. The other injured were being moved out around us.

  “Get everyone out,” Chang-wei commanded. “Tai Shan Facility is being locked down.”

  I didn’t thank him for his assistance and he didn’t thank me for mine. This was routine for us now, communicating with nothing more than a few passing glances when our paths happened to cross. There were always another hundred things to tend to. When we’d both been assigned to the Five Factories, I’d been grateful we weren’t separated. Lately we might as well have been at opposite corners of the world.

  We exchanged another silent glance now. For a moment he looked like he wanted to say something more, but Kai was calling for me. The factory foreman came to prostrate himself at Chang-wei’s feet. He begged for forgiveness with his forehead pressed to the floor.

  I didn’t want to think of what would happen to him. Whenever there was an accident, someone had to be held responsible and punished. It was protocol.

  The steadfast Jiang Wen remained by his friend as he was carried outside to the medical tents. I followed closely behind. As we neared the doors, armed guardsman streamed into the factory, forming a perimeter around the inside. Immediately following them was Inspector General Hala flanked by his guards.

  The inspector presented an imposing figure, not so much in stature but in his demeanor. His face was thin, his cheeks lacking, and his nose sharp. He wore an expression that perhaps was meant to be piercing, but it more simply appeared unpleasant.

  I quickly ducked away from his gaze, head bowed. I had nothing to fear from the inspector other than the fact that everyone always had something to fear from him. He was the one who reported back to the Emperor and his war council.

  As we moved past the heavy iron doors, I forced the black smoke and the inner politics of Peking aside. I needed to focus my energy on fulfilling my duties — tending to the injured.

  The medical tent was a structure made of a folding bamboo frame draped with canvas. The severely wounded were set up inside on cots. Those with more moderate injuries were relegated to the benches immediately outside.

  I bypassed the rows, ignoring the questions, the pleas, the expressions of pain. They would be seen to in time. The moment I passed under the shade of the tent, a different energy emerged. Physicians bent over the injured, hands pressed against wounds that were bleeding too quickly. Bone-setters righted shattered limbs as best they could. Runners darted in and out with bandages, liniment, and opium. For the pain.

  I became another pair of hands, doing what I could to patch things together. Gritting my teeth to keep on going.

  “Yishi Jin.” It was Po. The boy was flushed from running supplies and out of breath when he reached me. “Kai is asking for you.”

  I followed the boy to the back quadrant of the tent. The place where the most serious injuries were placed.

  Jiang was still there. Guo’s body lay slack while his friend stood over him, head bowed. My stomach dropped as my heart hammered in my chest. I’d just seen him, spoken to him—

  My view was suddenly blocked by a broad chest. Kai.

  “They had to remove it,” he said grimly. “His left leg.”

  I swallowed. “At least he’s alive.”

  “Let’s hope the next person is as well.”

  Kai was plainspoken. He’d come from a small village in Anhui, the same province my mother was from. We’d befriended each other on that shared connection, but had grown closer over the last year working side-by-side. I’d come to trust his honest perspective.

  There was no time to check on Guo myself and there was little I could do for him now anyway, but I made a silent vow to not forget. Losing a limb was in itself a small death.

  As Kai and I started down rows of cots, something caught my eye. Chang-wei had entered the tent along with the Inspector General. They surveyed the injured laid out with grim expressions. I intercepted them as they began to move down the row.

  “Inspector,” I greeted. Then, after a brief glance at Chang-wei. “Engineer Chen.”

  “Miss Jin.” The Inspector’s gaze slid past me to rake coldly over the injured workers.

  I’d been assigned to the Factories for over a year, yet the inspector still refused to address me by my title. “If there’s anything I can assist you with, Inspector?” I refused to yield when he took a step forward. “These workers are badly hurt and need immediate attention—”

  “Then you should go about your duties,” the senior official interrupted. “If we require anything from you, you’ll be summoned.”

  He swept past me disdainfully. A hush had fallen over the tent. The assistants who were caring for the injured paused in their duties to glance furtively over at the exchange. Everyone became more guarded.

  I stopped Chang-wei as he started past. “What is this about?”

  He glanced at the inspector’s back before turning to me. “This is the second incident this month,” he said under his breath.

  “Because you’re pushing the production lines too hard,” I hissed, not as quietly as I probably should have.

  It was unfair to put the blame entirely on Chang-wei, but the orders to increase production came from the Citadel and the Directorate.

  Chang-wei looked away guiltily. “Inspector Hala suspects sabotage. All of the workers in this factory are being detained for questioning.”

  He fell in line behind the inspector, leaving me to trail after them both.

  “You can talk to them after we’ve treated their injuries,” I insisted.

  “They could be dead by then,” the Inspector tossed coldly over his shoulder. “The workers closest to the explosion are likely to have seen something. They’re also the ones who may realize now there’s no value to harboring traitors.”

  He deliberately spoke loudly enough so that all in the tent could hear. I gritted my teeth and started forward. He held higher rank than me, but this was my domain. Chang-wei took hold of my arm.

  “The quicker this is done, the sooner he’ll be out of your way,” he said. “Go see to the injured. I’ll keep watch over Hala. Make sure he doesn’t overstep his boundaries.”

  “What boundaries?” I demanded bitterly.

  “Soling,” Chang-wei began gently. He looked into my eyes while holding onto me.

  He was still Chen Chang-wei and I was still Jin Soling. We had come here together, with a similar purpose, but Chang-wei’s idea of duty was different than mine. My responsibility was to those immediately in my care. He worked from the Citadel, effecting changes that would be felt far and wide.

  I closed my eyes and took a breath. He was exhausted. I was exhausted as well. Everyone and everything in the Factories was strained to the breaking point to try to meet the orders coming from Peking, and it was hard to remember why any of us were working ourselves to the bone.

  When I opened my eyes again, Chang-wei gave me a small nod. I returned it, telling myself at least he was trying to help, but I was far from completely reassured.

  “Later,” he promised in low tones.

  “Later,” I echoed.

  He left to join Inspector Hala who had been watching our exchange. I didn’t care.

  Kai returned to my side wordlessly. “Let’s go,” I told him.

  We moved through the more serious injuries first. I administered medicine; salves and ointments, and opium when needed. Kai set what fractures he could. Out of the corner of my eye, I could see the Inspector stopping at one cot after another, asking questions. I braced myself — if he were to try to remove any of the workers, I’d have another battle to fight. About half an hour in, a messenger came into the tent to speak to him. Whatever it was, the matter was urgent enough that the official left immediately, leaving behind only two of his agents to continue the interrogation.

  I watched as Chang-wei exited the tent on the Inspector’s heels. He spared
one glance back, searching. I looked down, focusing on the needle dose of opium I was administering to someone who had a shattered arm. There was an endless line of injuries and after an hour, I could no longer see the faces behind them. They all blurred together in the endless cycle of need, surrounded by the smell of ash and blood and fear. Perhaps I needed them to.

  This accident was worse than the last. It would be a long time before any of us could rest.

  When I finally returned to check on Guo, the worker who’d lost his leg, I was happy to see that his bleeding was controlled. He was still unconscious, which was probably best. His friend Jiang had remained and was helping others by bringing water and doing what he could.

  Now that Guo was sleeping and his face cleaned of soot, he appeared even younger. My guess was still fifteen, with a slight roundness still to his cheeks and a prominent forehead that signaled cleverness. Boys and girls as young as twelve could get conscripted to the Factories. My brother, Tian, was eleven. He was in the capital now, studying for entry into the Academy. When we’d lived in exile, it had been my constant worry that he’d be sent to the Factories, or, if not there, to the army, conscripted to fight the rebels.

  Was one fate any better than the other?

  Guo shifted then, a look of pain marring his expression in sleep. I smoothed a hand over his forehead, even though it likely provided little comfort. That’s when I saw something slip out from the fold of his tunic. It was some sort of wooden token or charm tied around his neck with a length of cord. Curious, I lifted it to look over the design carved onto the face. It appeared to be a kind of wheel with a central point and spokes radiating out from the center.

  “Yishi?”

  Jiang had returned. I dropped the charm and turned to him. “I wanted to see how your friend was doing.”

  “Not well, as you can see,” he replied, his expression grim.

  I glanced at the stub where his leg had been and quickly looked away. Jiang was watching me through narrowed eyes. His features were rougher than the boy’s. The thin line of his mouth appeared wary and unwelcoming.