Small Ship, Big War - The Voyages of the Hibiki

[Onime No Kyo]

ORIGINAL: Feinder

It's an analogy that probably has no relation whatsoever, except that it somehow seems fitting to share here.

From Forgotten Fleet, right Feinder?

[kfmiller41]

teach me to post something at 4 in the morning without my glasses on[:-]

[Feinder]

From Forgotten Fleet, right Feinder?

Yup. It's funny, I'm almost disappointed to have finished it. Was a good book. I've got Toland sitting on the shelf. I guess he's next.

-F-

[Cuttlefish]

October 15, 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: 223

Orders: Protect evacuation convoy arriving from Kwajalein

---

As evening approaches Taiki and his crew secure the forward 25mm AA gun. It has been another quiet day. The transports from Kwajalein are only a few days away now, and so far there is no sign of the enemy fleet.

Taiki dismisses the men, and they depart, most of them straight to mess. Shiro lingers behind. Taiki stretches, then grins at Shiro.

“Better hurry, Kuramata,” he says. “You don’t want all the food to be gone before you get there.”

“Yes, Petty Officer,” says Shiro. He knows he can call his friend by name now that they are off duty, but the habit of formal address is hard to break. He reaches into his pocket and pulls out a small object wrapped in paper. “But first I have something for you.” He hands it to Taiki, who looks at it curiously.

“What is this?” he asks. Without waiting for an answer he unwraps it. Within is a polished flat oval wood medallion carved in the silhouette of a woman’s face. Taiki recognizes Sayumi’s profile immediately. His breath catches for a second. He looks up at Shiro in wonder.

“This is…how did you..?” he stammers. Shiro smiles.

“Lots of time and a very small amount of talent,” he says. “I have sealed the wood, it should be waterproof.” Taiki stares at it for a moment, then lifts it by the cord threaded through the top and places it around his neck. He then tucks the medallion in under his tunic. It feels cold against his skin at first, but warms quickly.

“This is a fine gift,” he says quietly. “Too fine of a gift. You should not have gone to such time and effort for me.” Shiro knows Taiki well enough to know that Taiki is actually both moved and very pleased by his effort, but he goes along with the formula.

“Please,” he says. “It is just a small thing. I only wish my talents were more worthy of the subject matter.”

“You are an artist,” says Taiki. He touches his tunic above the medallion “I cannot thank you enough for this,” he says. “I think of her every day, and I have no photograph or picture of her. There wasn’t time. Now I have this. It may be months before we reach home again, but having this will help.”

“Good,” says Shiro. “Well, you aren’t wrong about getting to the food before it’s gone. With your permission, Petty Officer?”

“Get out of here,” says Taiki with a smile. “And thank you again.” Shiro departs the foredeck. Taiki watches him go. Though Hibiki is no closer to Japan than it was a short while ago somehow home doesn’t feel quite as far away as it did. It’s good to have friends, he thinks, then he too goes to find something to eat.

[Capt. Harlock]

Now I'm really going to be depressed if Hibiki ends up sinking . . . or even taking significant casualties.

[Feinder]

“I have sealed the wood, it should be waterproof.”

 
Let's just hope it doesn't have to prove it's waterproof-ness...!
 
-F-

[Knavey]

Hey Bro,
 
I want to read Forgotten Fleet.  Sounds like a good read.  Next time we get together don't forget (I will!) so give it to Mom if she is over at your place and have her drop it off at mine.
 
Dave
 
And now back to your regularly scheduled programming

[Feinder]

Book - Ok.

I might stop by to see the B-17 and B-25 at Vandy during lunch oTuesday...

-F-

[Cuttlefish]

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

---

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.

---

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…

[1EyedJacks]

To be continued... To be continued? To be continued!!!?


I hate to be continueds! [:@]


Gawd - U so have me hook-line-and-sinker on this AAR... [:D][:D]

[Durbik]

Polish count

That would probably be Gustaw Breza (1880-1945) - a maltese chevalier, an adventurer, up-to-no-good, heartbreaker, villain etc He was travelling Asia these days, as he was disinherited by his father due to... things that count shouldn't do :E

[DuckofTindalos]

<checking his desk> Yup, my superlatives drawer is still all empty...[&o][&o][&o][&o][&o][&o][&o]

[histgamer]

[&o][&o][&o][&o][&o][&o][&o][&o][&o][&o][&o][&o][&o][&o][&o][&o][&o]

[Cuttlefish]

Shanghai, 1920, one week later:

Shun crouches in a pool of shadow at the end of row of crates stacked beneath a long, shed-like roof along a Shanghai wharf. His breath is coming in ragged gasps. His shirt is cut neatly across his left bicep, and the edges of the cut are stiff with dried blood.

A rat eyes the young Japanese man curiously from atop a nearby crate, but then it turns and vanishes as the sound of angry voices comes from somewhere nearby, growing louder. The pursuit is closing in again.

Shun hears it too, and narrows his eyes. For the one hundredth time he berates himself for his stupidity. He knew too little, and now that ignorance is about to kill him. Even his strength is reaching its limits, and he does not think he can get away from them again.

“They” are the Green Gang. Shanghai is controlled and virtually ruled by its criminal organizations, and all of these are controlled by the Green Gang. Their leader is Du Yuesheng, “Big Ears” Du, and he is the master of this city. The police are firmly in his pocket and rival gangs pay him fealty.

Liangyu, the young bravo who Shun had beaten a week ago, is the eldest son of one of Du’s chief lieutenants. Right now Liangyu is still suffering from a partially crushed larynx. He will eventually recover, though his voice will remain an unpleasant rasp for the rest of his life. The injury and indignity suffered by Liangyu is not something the triad can ignore. The Green Gang’s killers have been seeking Shun for seven days and nights. They have caught him twice, and twice he has escaped, the second time after killing two of them. But now they are closing in, and Shun is out of tricks and out of places to hide.

He has tried the Japanese embassy, but Du’s reach extends through their walls. He has twice tried slipping aboard a departing ship, but has been thwarted both times. Every exit from the city is watched.

Shun slips away from the crates and farther down the waterfront. He keeps to the deepest shadows as much as possible and concentrates on moving silently. He has to get away from this area somehow. His pursuers know he is along this section of waterfront and they are tightening the circle around him.

Ahead he hears more voices, but these are not the sounds of killers signaling one another. These are laughing voices speaking Japanese. Shun creeps forward and sees a group of six sailors in Imperial Japanese Navy uniforms coming down an adjacent street. Judging by the laughing and singing they are returning from a night ashore. On impulse Shun follows them.

They walk for several blocks and then turn down towards the docks. Shun finds some cover next to a dark and silent shop and looks around. Ahead he spies brightly-lit wharf. Tied up to it is a warship. Shun does not know what ship it is, but he can see a Japanese flag illuminated at its stern. Armed sailors patrol the wharf next to the ship. The sailors Shun has been following troop down the wharf and go aboard.

Behind Shun there is a cry. He has been spotted. He curses, knowing that someone clever among his hunters must have guessed he would follow the sailors. He gathers what energy he has left and plunges forward. He reaches the wharf ahead and runs down it with pounding footsteps.

Ahead Japanese sailors see him coming and unsling their rifles. A petty officer, sidearm still in its holster, steps forward to intercept him. Shun thunders up to him and stops, breathing hard.

“Who the hell are you?” the petty officer asks.

“My name…is Shun…” Shun gasps. Inspiration strikes him. “I wish to…enlist…in the Imperial Japanese Navy.” The petty officer looks past him. There are figures skulking at the edge of the darkness, and here and there he can see a glint of light on metal. He snaps an order and half a dozen armed men come forward, rifles at the ready.

He then turns his attention back to Shun. Ragged, worn, and dirty though he is, there is still something indomitable about him. He is obviously in a bad place, and if he is turned away now the petty officer has no doubt that he is looking at a dead man. Yet Shun stands there calmly as he gets his breath back. He might be waiting for a cab rather than waiting to see whether he will live or die. The petty officer reaches a quick decision. It is all highly irregular, but he cannot condemn a man like this to death.

“Welcome to the Navy,” he says, “and to the light cruiser Hirado. Kikuchi! See this man aboard ship. Take him to Lieutenant Kato and introduce him as our newest recruit. The Lieutenant can take it from there. Ask him to send for me if he has any questions.”

“Yes, Petty Officer,” says one of the soldiers. “Come on, you,” he says to Shun. Shun follows him down the wharf and up the gangway.

---

“Been in ever since,” says Shun to Taiki and Aikawa.

“What about that Du fellow?” asks Aikawa. “What ever happened to him?”

Shun shrugs. “He’s still around. He ran that city for something like twenty years. I don’t know where he is now that we control the place, but he and Chiang Kai-shek were pretty tight. The story is that Du got into favor with him by having his men kill five thousand Communist protesters. Shows you what kind of man he is, and what kind of power he’s got.”

“Do you think he’s still after you?” asks Taiki.

“No,” says Shun. “I wasn’t that big a fish, and it was a long time ago. I’ll tell you this, though. I have never taken shore leave in Shanghai. Every time a ship I was on called there I stayed on board.”

He stands and stretches. A few joints pop. “That’s enough yakking for one night,” he says. “I’m turning in.” Both Taiki and Aikawa wish him good night. They sit silently for a time after Shun departs, their thoughts on a time and place both now far away.

---

“Big Ears” Du

[Cuttlefish]

ORIGINAL: Durbik

Polish count

That would probably be Gustaw Breza (1880-1945) - a maltese chevalier, an adventurer, up-to-no-good, heartbreaker, villain etc He was travelling Asia these days, as he was disinherited by his father due to... things that count shouldn't do :E

As this is exactly the kind of person I had in mind when I wrote about him, I think you are probably right.

[DuckofTindalos]

[&o][&o][&o]

[mdiehl]

This is great Cuttlefish! Looking better and better as a graphic novel, IMO. I mean it, this is as good a read as some pretty decent published novels (for ex Day by Day Armageddon). IMO you should copyright this stuff if you have not done it already.

[Capt. Harlock]

Wow -- just WOW!!

[Feinder]

Actually, there's an interesting question.&nbsp; Does Matrix actually "own" it, since it's a part of their forums?&nbsp; Just curious what the legality is.
&nbsp;
-F-

[farticus]

ORIGINAL: Feinder

Actually, there's an interesting question. Does Matrix actually "own" it, since it's a part of their forums? Just curious what the legality is.

-F-

intellectual property ? cant touch dat !