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Cuttlefish -> RE: Small Ship, Big War (2/5/2008 12:49:50 AM)
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October 16, 1943
Location: 60 miles west of Luganville
Course: None
Attached to: TF 4
Mission: Air Combat
System Damage: 0
Float Damage: 0
Fires: 0
Fuel: 191
Orders: Protect evacuation convoy arriving from Kwajalein
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Taiki and Senior Petty Officer Aikawa find Shun in the wardroom. They take seats at either side of the small table where he is reading a magazine and wait. After a moment Shun lowers the magazine with a sigh and glares at the two men.
“All right, what is it?” he growls.
“What about the Green Gang, Chief?” Aikawa asks. Taiki has filled him in on what little he has learned.
Shun grunts. “So you two figured that out, did you?” he says. “Yeah, they’re why I ended up in the Navy. Best thing that could have happened to me. I was young and stupid and in more trouble than I could handle.”
“Than you could handle, Chief?” says Taiki. He finds it hard to believe there is anything Shun could not handle.
Shun fixes him with a baleful eye. “Oh yes,” he says. “That’s one of the things the Navy taught me. One man alone is nothing. Men working together are a far greater force.”
“So what happened?” asks Aikawa.
“It was a long time ago,” says Shun. “No one cares about what happened any more.” The two other petty officers glance at each other, then look steadily at Shun. The stocky, ugly chief puts up with it for a moment, then rolls his eyes.
“Fine,” he growls. “If it will get the two of you to leave me alone I’ll tell you what happened.” And he proceeds to relate the tale.
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Shanghai, 1920:
In an era noted for self-indulgence and excess there is no greater pit of sin and depravity anywhere in the world than Shanghai in 1920. With its national enclaves and lax government it is the world center of any number of illegal activities, including and most especially the opium trade.
A young wanderer who has recently come into some money, Shun has ended up in Shanghai along with the fortune seekers, flotsam, and scum of scores of other countries. At the moment he is seated at a card table in a large and glitzy gambling house, working on increasing his small fortune.
And he is meeting with some success. Four of the other five people at the table are playing badly, almost as if they are trying not to be too successful. These include two Chinamen, a Frenchman, and a Polish nobleman, all of them Shanghai veterans. The fifth man, a well-dressed young Chinese gentleman, is obviously playing to win but playing badly. Shun gets the feeling that he is not used to having to think too hard about his cards.
This is a situation which might set off a faint warning bell for someone more cautious or more experienced. Shun, however, has never met a situation he could not master and gives it little thought. As he rakes in one large pot the young Chinaman looks indignantly across the table at him.
“You must be cheating!” he says.
Shun grins lazily at him. “The way you play, I don’t need to,” he says. “Your deal.”
“No!” responds the other. “I say you must be cheating. Stand and let us search you!”
Shun's grin vanishes and he fixes the other with a flat stare. “You have now said twice that I am cheating,” he says. “If I were you, I would not repeat that lie a third time.” The Chinaman is slender. He has slicked-back hair and is wearing an impeccably tailored brown suit. Right now his habitually insolent expression is being replaced by one of anger.
And now it is his judgment that is faulty. It is apparent to even a casual student of human nature that there is something dangerous about Shun. Even in repose he gives an impression of coiled power. At the moment, leaning forward and intent, it is also apparent that there is something wild and fierce within him, something that is barely held in check. The men sitting to either side of him can feel it radiating from him like heat, and they lean unconsciously away.
The Polish count attempts to defuse the situation. “Come now,” he says in excellent Chinese, “there is no need for any unpleasantness. I am sure that Mr. Liangyu is simply speaking from frustration. Why don’t we order another round of drinks and get back to the game, eh?” But Liangyu will have none of it. His nostrils flare as he stares at Shun.
“Cheater!” he almost spits. Before anyone else can move Shun is over the table at him. Chairs topple and drinks and chips scatter. Shun delivers a brutal backhand to Liangyu that jolts him two steps back, then grabs him by the suit lapels and shoves him backwards. Liangyu backpedals helplessly and hits a wall between two nearby tables with a crash. A woman at one of the tables shrieks and men leap to their feet.
Shun follows with great speed. A second later Liangyu is pinned to the wall by a hand around his throat. He gropes into one pocket and comes out with a small revolver, but Shun simply reaches out with his free hand and twists the gun out of his grasp, allowing it to fall to the carpeted floor.
Nothing Liangyu can do makes the slightest difference to that iron grip. Back at the vacated table the other two Chinamen start forward, but halt as Shun detects the movement and glares at them. Elsewhere in the gambling house all conversation has stopped. Well-dressed men and women stand or sit transfixed, looking silently on.
The gambling house has a nautical theme. Mounted on the wall above Shun’s victim are a pair of harpoons, decoratively crossed. Shun reaches up and lifts one off the wall. A woman utters a faint scream, but Shun does not use the weapon in a conventional way. Instead he releases his grip on Liangyu’s throat and clips him hard across the jaw. Liangyu sags, dazed. Shun turns him around and places the weapon across the Chinaman’s neck. Then he seizes the harpoon by both ends, takes a deep breath, and tries to pull the ends towards each other.
For a moment nothing happens. The muscles in Shun’s neck, chest and arms bulge, and he quivers with the force he is exerting. Then, incredibly, the harpoon begins to bend. The iron groans as it is forced into a circle. There are several gasps, and from a nearby table a man utters a low oath in disbelief. Once the harpoon starts to bend it goes quickly, and in seconds Shun has it completely wrapped around Liangyu’s neck.
Shun releases him. It is a tight fit, and Liangyu’s breaths begin coming hoarse and raw. His eyes bulge and he raises his hands to the encircling harpoon, but he can do nothing. Shun contemplates his handiwork for a moment. The pointed end of the harpoon is sticking out a couple of feet, and Shun seizes the encircling iron and then turns Liangyu so that the point is towards the wall. He then propels man and harpoon both in that direction. The points crashes though the wallpaper and plaster into the wooden lathes beneath, pinning Liangyu securely to the wall. There he chokes and thrashes helplessly.
Shun turns back towards the room. There is a ferocious and gleeful light in his eyes, but with perfect calm he walks back to his table. He collects his chips and walks over to the cashier, all of this still in almost utter silence except for Liangyu’s frantic wheezing.
As Shun cashes in his winnings the other two Chinese from his table rush forward and try to help Liangyu. They can do nothing. Others come forward to help. In the end it takes four men to free Liangyu from the harpoon. When they finally succeed he collapses to his hands and knees and then he vomits onto the rich cream-colored carpet.
Shun has paid no attention to any of this. He collects his money and starts calmly for the door. Two bouncers start belatedly forward as if to stop him, but then they think better of it and step back to allow him to pass. Shun steps through the door and out onto the brightly-lit street. Once outside he takes a deep breath, grins cheerfully to himself, and saunters away into the night.
To be continued…
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