"Who are they?" Fisheye says, choking on a cup of the freezedried coffee he despises so much. He's wrapped up in a space blanket and partly snuggled underneath1 the boat's waterproof2 canopy3, just his face and hands visible.
Eliot scopes them out with the sight. He is not a real demonstrative guy, but it's clear that he is not very happy with what he sees. "That is Bruce Lee," he says.
"How is that significant?" Fisheye says.
"Well, check out the colors," Eliot says.
The ship is close enough that everyone can see the flag pretty clearly. It's a red banner with a silver fist in the middle, a pair of nunchuks crossed beneath it, the initials B and L on either side.
"What about 'em?" Fisheye says.
"Well, the guy who calls himself Bruce Lee, who's like the leader? He got a vest with those colors on the back."
"So?"
"So, it's not just embroidered4 or painted, it's actually done in scalps. Patchwork5, like."
"Say what?" Hiro says.
"There's a rumor6, just a rumor, man, that he went through the Refu ships looking for people with red or silver hair so he could collect the scalps he needed."
Hiro is still absorbing that when Fisheye makes an unexpected decision. "I want to talk to this Bruce Lee character," he says. "He interests me."
"Why the hell do you want to talk to this fucking psycho?" Eliot says.
"Yeah," Hiro says. "Didn't you see that series on Eye Spy? He's a maniac7."
Fisheye throws up his hands as if to say the answer is, like Catholic theology, beyond mortal comprehension. "This is my decision," he says.
"Who the fuck are you?" Eliot says.
"President of the fucking boat," Fisheye says. "I hereby nominate myself. Is there a second?"
"Yup," Vic says, the first time he has spoken in forty-eight hours.
"All in favor say aye," Fisheye says.
"Aye," Vic says, bursting into florid eloquence8.
"I win," Fisheye says. "So how do we get these Bruce Lee guys to come over here and talk to us?"
"Why should they want to?" Eliot says. "We got nothing they want except for poontang."
"Are you saying these guys are homos?" Fisheye says, his face shriveling up.
"Shit, man," Eliot says, "you didn't even blink when I told you about the scalps."
"I knew I didn't like any of this boat shit," Fisheye says.
"If this makes any difference to you, they're not gay in the sense that we usually think of it," Eliot explains. "They're het, but they're pirates. They'll go after anything that's warm and concave."
Fisheye makes a snap decision. "Okay, you two guys, Hiro and Eliot, you're Chinese. Take off your clothes."
"What?"
"Do it. I'm the president, remember? You want Vic to do it for you?"
Eliot and Hiro can't help looking over at Vic, who is just sitting there like a lump. There is something about his extremely blasé attitude that inspires fear.
"Do it or I'll fucking kill you," Fisheye says, finally driving the point home.
Eliot and Hiro, bobbing awkwardly on the unsteady floor of the raft, peel off their survival suits and step out of them. Then they pull off the rest of their clothes, exposing smooth bare skin to the air for the first time in a few days. The trawler comes right alongside of them, no more than twenty feet away, and cuts its engines. They are nicely equipped: half a dozen Zodiacs with new outboards, an Exocet-type missile, two radars9, and a fifty-caliber machine gun at each end of the boat, currently unmanned. A couple of speedboats are being towed behind the trawler like dinghys and each of these also has a heavy machine gun. And there is also a thirty-six-foot motor yacht, following them under its own power.
There are a couple of dozen guys in Bruce Lee's pirate band, and they are now lined up along the trawler's railing, grinning, whistling, howling like wolves, and waving unrolled trojans in the air.
"Don't worry, man, I'm not going to let 'em fuck you," Fisheye says, grinning.
"What you gonna do," Eliot says, "hand them a papal encyclical?"
"I'm sure they'll listen to reason," Fisheye says.
"These guys aren't scared of the Mafia, if that's what you have in mind," Eliot says.
"That's just because they don't know us very well."
Finally, the leader comes out, Bruce Lee himself, a fortyish guy in a Kevlar vest, an ammo vest stretched over that, a diagonal bandolier, samurai sword -- Hiro would love to take him on -- nunchuks, and his colors, the patchwork of human scalps.
He flashes them a nice grin, has a look at Hiro and Eliot, gives them a highly suggestive, thrusting thumbs-up gesture, and then struts10 up and down the length of the boat one time, swapping11 high fives with his merry men. Every so often, he picks out one of the pirates at random13 and gestures at the man's trojan. The pirate puts his condom to his lips and inflates14 it into a slippery ribbed balloon. Then Bruce Lee inspects it, making sure there are no leaks. Obviously, the man runs a tight ship.
Hiro can't help staring at the scalps on Bruce Lee's back. The pirates note his interest and mug for him, pointing to the scalps, nodding, looking back at him with wide, mocking eyes The colors look much too uniform -- no change in the red from one to the next. Hiro concludes that Bruce Lee, contrary to his reputation, must have just gone out and gotten scalps of any old color, bleached15 them, and dyed them. What a wimp16.
Finally, Bruce Lee works his way back to midship and flashes them another big grin. He has a great, dazzling grin and he knows it; maybe it's those one-karat diamonds Krazy Glued to his front teeth.
"Jammin' boat," he says. 'Maybe you, me swap12, huh? Hahaha."
Everyone on the life raft, except for Vic, just smiles a brittle17 smile.
"Where you goin'? Key West? Hahaha."
Bruce Lee examines Hiro and Eliot for a while, rotates his index finger to indicate that they should spin around and display their business ends. They do.
"Quanto?" Bruce Lee says, and all the pirates get uproarious, most of all Bruce Lee. Hiro can feel his anal sphincter contracting to the size of a pore.
"He's asking how much we cost," Eliot says. "It's a joke, see, because they know they can come over and have our asses18 for free."
"Oh, hilarious19!" Fisheye says. While Hiro and Eliot literally20 freeze their asses, he's still snuggled up under the canopy, that bastard21.
"Poonmissile, like?" Bruce Lee says, pointing to one of the antiship missiles on the deck. "Bugs22? Motorolas?"
"Poonmissile is a Harpoon24 antiship missile, real expensive," Eliot says. "A bug23 is a microchip. Motorola would be one brand, like Ford25 or Chevy. Bruce Lee deals in a lot of electronics -- you know, typical Asian pirate dude."
"He'd give us a Harpoon missile for you guys?" Fisheye says.
"No! He's being sarcastic26, shithead!" Eliot says. "Tell him we want a boat with an outboard motor," Fisheye says.
"Want one zode, one kicker, fillerup," Eliot says.
Suddenly Bruce Lee gets real serious and actually considers it. "Scope clause, chomsayen? Gauge27 and gag."
"He'll consider it if they can come and check out the merchandise first," Eliot says. "They want to check out how tight we are, and whether we are capable of suppressing our gag reflex. These are all terms from the Raft brothel industry."
"Ombwas scope like twelves to me, hahaha."
"Us homeboys look like we have twelve-gauge assholes," Eliot says, "i.e., that we are all stretched out and worthless."
Fisheye speaks up on his own. "No, no, four-tens, totally!"
The entire deck of the pirate ship titters with excitement.
"No way," Bruce Lee says.
"These ombwas," Fisheye says, "still got cherries up in there!" The whole deck erupts in rude, screaming laughter. One of the pirates scrambles28 up to balance on the railing, gyrates one fist in the air, and hollers: "ba ka na zu ma lay ga no mala aria29 ma na p0 no a ab zu ... " By that point all the other pirates have stopped laughing, gotten serious looks on their faces, and joined in, bellowing30 their own private streams of babble31, rattling32 the air with a profound hoarse33 ululation.
Hiro's feet go out from under him as the raft moves suddenly; he can see Eliot falling down next to him.
He looks up at Bruce Lee's ship and flinches34 involuntarily as he sees what looks like a dark wave cresting35 over the rail, washing over the row of standing36 pirates, starting at the stern of the trawler and working its way forward. But this is just some kind of optical illusion. It is not really a wave at all. Suddenly, they are fifty feet away from the trawler, not twenty feet. As the laughter on the railing dies away, Hiro hears a new sound: a low whirring noise from the direction of Fisheye, and from the atmosphere around them, a tearing, hissing37 noise, like the sound just before a thunderbolt strikes, like the sound of sheets being ripped in half.
Looking back at Bruce Lee's trawler, he sees that the dark wavelike phenomenon was a wave of blood, as though someone hosed down the deck with a giant severed38 aorta39. But it didn't come from outside. It erupted from the pirates' bodies, one at a time, moving from the stern to the bow. The deck of Bruce Lee's ship is now utterly40 quiet and motionless except for blood and gelatinized internal organs sliding down the rusted41 steel and plopping softly into the water.
Fisheye is up on his knees now and has torn away the canopy and space blanket that have covered him until this point. In one hand he is holding a long device a couple of inches in diameter, which is the source of the whirring noise. It is a circular bundle of parallel tubes about pencil-sized and a couple of feet long, like a miniaturized Gatling gun. It whirs around so quickly that the individual tubes are difficult to make out; when it is operating, it is in fact ghostly and transparent42 because of this rapid motion, a glittering, translucent43 cloud jutting44 out of Fisheye's arm. The device is attached to a wrist-thick bundle of black tubes and cables that snake down into the large suitcase, which lies open on the bottom of the raft. The suitcase has a built-in color monitor screen with graphics45 giving information about the status of this weapons system: how much ammo is left, the status of various subsystems. Hiro just gets a quick glimpse at it before all of the ammunition46 on board Bruce Lee's ship begins to explode.
"See, I told you they'd listen to Reason," Fisheye says, shutting down the whirling gun.
Now Hiro sees a nameplate tacked47 onto the control panel.
REASON
version 1.0B7
Gatling-type 3mm hypervelocity railgun system
Ng Security Industries, Inc.
PRERELEASE VERSION -- NOT FOR FIELD USE
DO NOT TEST IN A POPULATED AREA
- ULTIMA RATIO REGUM -
"Fucking recoil48 pushed us halfway49 to China," Fisheye says appreciatively.
"Did you do that? What just happened?" Eliot says.
"I did it. With Reason. See, it fires these teeny little metal splinters. They go real fast -- more energy than a rifle bullet. Depleted50 uranium."
The spinning barrels have now slowed almost to a stop. It looks like there are about two dozen of them.
"I thought you hated machine guns," Hiro says.
"I hate this fucking raft even more. Let's go get ourselves something that goes, you know. Something with a motor on it."
Because of the fires and small explosions going off on Bruce Lee's pirate ship, it takes them a minute to realize that several people are still alive there, still shooting at them. When Fisheye becomes aware of this, he pulls the trigger again, the barrels whirl themselves up into a transparent cylinder51, and the tearing, hissing noise begins again. As he waves the gun back and forth52, hosing the target down with a hypersonic shower of depleted uranium, Bruce Lee's entire ship seems to sparkle and glitter, as though Tinkerbell was flying back and forth from stem to stern, sprinkling nuclear fairy dust over it.
Bruce Lee's smaller yacht makes the mistake of coming around to see what's going on. Fisheye turns toward it for a moment and its high, protruding53 bridge slides off into the water.
Major structural54 elements of the trawler are losing their integrity. Enormous popping and wrenching55 noises are coming from inside as big pieces of Swiss-cheesed metal give way, and the superstructure is slowly collapsing56 down into the hull57 like a botched souffle. When Fisheye notes this, he ceases fire.
"Cut it out, boss," Vic says.
"I'm melting!" Fisheye crows.
"We could have used that trawler, asshole," Eliot says, vindictively58 yanking his pants back on.
"I didn't mean to blow it all up. I guess the little bullets just go through everything."
"Sharp thinking, Fisheye," Hiro says.
"Well, I'm sorry I took a little action to save our asses. Come on, let's go get one of them little boats before they all burn."
They paddle in the direction of the decapitated yacht. By the time they reach it, Bruce Lee's trawler is just a listing, empty steel hull with flames and smoke pouring out of it, spiced by the occasional explosion.
The remaining portion of the yacht has many, many tiny little holes in it, and glitters with exploded fragments of fiberglass: a million tiny little glass fibers59 about a millimeter long. The skipper and a crew member, or rather the stew60 that they turned into when the bridge was hit by Reason, slid off into the water along with the rest of the debris61, leaving behind no evidence of their having been there except for a pair of long parallel streaks62 trailing off into the water. But there is a Filipino boy down in the galley63, the galley so low, unhurt and only dimly aware of what happened.
A number of electrical cables have been sawn in half. Eliot digs up a toolbox from belowdecks and spends the next twelve hours patching things together to the point where the engine can be started and the yacht can be steered64. Hiro, who has a rudimentary knowledge of electrical stuff, acts as gofer and limp-dicked adviser65.
"Did you hear the way the pirates were talking, before Fisheye opened up on them?" Hiro asks Eliot while they are working.
"You mean in pidgin?"
"No. At the very end. The babbling66."
"Yeah. That's a Raft thing."
"It is?"
"Yeah. One guy will start in and the rest will follow. I think it's just a fad67."
"But it's common on the Raft?"
"Yeah. They all speak different languages, you know, all those different ethnic68 groups. It's like the fucking Tower of Babel. I think when they make that sound -- when they babble at each other -- they're just imitating what all the other groups sound like."
The Filipino kid starts making them some food. Vic and Fisheye sit down in the main cabin belowdecks, eating, going through Chinese magazines, looking at pictures of Asian chicks, and occasionally looking at nautical69 charts. When Eliot gets the electrical system back up and running, Hiro plugs his personal computer in, to recharge its batteries.
By the time the yacht is up and running again, it's dark. To the southwest, a fluctuating column of light is playing back and forth against the low overhanging cloud layer.
"Is that the Raft over there?" Fisheye says, pointing to the light, as all hands converge70 on Eliot's makeshift control center.
"It is," Eliot says. "They light it up at night so that the fishing boats can find their way back to it."
"How far away do you think it is?" Fisheye says.
Eliot shrugs71. "Twenty miles."
"And how far to land?"
"I have no idea. Bruce Lee's skipper probably knew, but he's been pureed along with everyone else."
"You're right," Fisheye says. "I should have set it on 'whip' or 'chop.'"
"The Raft usually stays at least a hundred miles offshore72," Hiro says, "to reduce the danger of snags."
"How we doing on gas?" "I dipped the tank," Eliot says, "and it looks like we're not doing so well, to tell you the truth."
"What does that mean, not doing so well?"
"It's not always easy to read the level when you're out to sea," Eliot says. "And I don't know how efficient these engines are. But if we're really eighty or a hundred miles offshore, we might not make it."
"So we go to the Raft," Fisheye says. "We go to the Raft and persuade someone it's in his best interests to give us some fuel. Then, back to the mainland." No one really believes it's going to happen this way, least of all Fisheye. "And," he continues, "while we're there -- on the Raft -- after we get the fuel and before we go home -- some other stuff might happen, too, you know. Life's unpredictable."
"If you have something in mind, why don't you just spit it out?" Hiro says.
"Okay. Policy decision. The hostage tactic73 failed. So we go for an extraction."
"Extraction of what?"
"Of Y.T."
"I go along with that," Hiro says, "but I have another person I want to extract also, as long as we're extracting."
"Who?"
"Juanita. Come on, you said yourself she was a nice girl."
"If she's on the Raft, maybe she's not so nice," Fisheye says.
"I want to extract her anyway. We're all in this together, right? We're all part of Lagos's gang."
"Bruce Lee has some people there," Eliot says.
"Correction. Had."
"But what I'm saying is, they're going to be pissed."
"You think they're going to be pissed. I think they're going to be scared shitless," Fisheye says. "Now drive the boat, Eliot. Come on, I'm sick of all this fucking water."
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underneath
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| adj.在...下面，在...底下；adv.在下面 | |
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waterproof
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| n.防水材料；adj.防水的；v.使...能防水 | |
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canopy
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| n.天篷，遮篷 | |
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embroidered
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| adj．绣花的 | |
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patchwork
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| n.混杂物；拼缝物 | |
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rumor
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| n.谣言，谣传，传说 | |
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maniac
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| n.精神癫狂的人；疯子 | |
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eloquence
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| n.雄辩；口才，修辞 | |
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radars
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| n.雷达( radar的名词复数 )；雷达装置 | |
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struts
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| （框架的）支杆( strut的名词复数 )； 支柱； 趾高气扬的步态； （尤指跳舞或表演时）卖弄 | |
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swapping
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| 交换，交换技术 | |
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swap
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| n.交换；vt.交换，用...作交易 | |
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random
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| adj.随机的；任意的；n.偶然的(或随便的)行动 | |
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inflates
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| v.使充气（于轮胎、气球等）( inflate的第三人称单数 )；（使）膨胀；（使）通货膨胀；物价上涨 | |
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bleached
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| 漂白的，晒白的，颜色变浅的 | |
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wimp
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| n.无用的人 | |
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brittle
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| adj.易碎的；脆弱的；冷淡的；(声音)尖利的 | |
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asses
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hilarious
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| adj.充满笑声的，欢闹的；[反]depressed | |
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literally
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| adv.照字面意义，逐字地；确实 | |
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bastard
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| n.坏蛋，混蛋；私生子 | |
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bugs
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| adj.疯狂的，发疯的n.窃听器( bug的名词复数 )；病菌；虫子；[计算机]（制作软件程序所产生的意料不到的）错误 | |
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bug
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| n.虫子；故障；窃听器；vt.纠缠；装窃听器 | |
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harpoon
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Ford
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sarcastic
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| adj.讥讽的，讽刺的，嘲弄的 | |
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gauge
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| v.精确计量；估计；n.标准度量；计量器 | |
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28
scrambles
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| n.抢夺( scramble的名词复数 )v.快速爬行( scramble的第三人称单数 )；攀登；争夺；（军事飞机）紧急起飞 | |
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aria
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| n.独唱曲，咏叹调 | |
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bellowing
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| v.发出吼叫声，咆哮（尤指因痛苦）( bellow的现在分词 )；（愤怒地）说出（某事），大叫 | |
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babble
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| v.含糊不清地说，胡言乱语地说，儿语 | |
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rattling
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| adj. 格格作响的, 活泼的, 很好的 adv. 极其, 很, 非常 动词rattle的现在分词 | |
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hoarse
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| adj.嘶哑的，沙哑的 | |
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flinches
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| v.（因危险和痛苦）退缩，畏惧( flinch的第三人称单数 ) | |
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cresting
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| n.顶饰v.到达山顶（或浪峰）( crest的现在分词 )；到达洪峰，达到顶点 | |
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standing
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| n.持续，地位；adj.永久的，不动的，直立的，不流动的 | |
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hissing
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severed
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| v.切断，断绝( sever的过去式和过去分词 )；断，裂 | |
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aorta
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| n.主动脉 | |
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utterly
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| adv.完全地，绝对地 | |
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rusted
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| v.（使）生锈( rust的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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transparent
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| adj.明显的，无疑的；透明的 | |
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translucent
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| adj.半透明的；透明的 | |
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jutting
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| v.（使）突出( jut的现在分词 )；伸出；（从…）突出；高出 | |
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graphics
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| n.制图法，制图学；图形显示 | |
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ammunition
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| n.军火，弹药 | |
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tacked
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| 用平头钉钉( tack的过去式和过去分词 )； 附加，增补； 帆船抢风行驶，用粗线脚缝 | |
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recoil
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| vi.退却，退缩，畏缩 | |
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halfway
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| adj.中途的，不彻底的，部分的；adv.半路地，在中途，在半途 | |
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depleted
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| adj. 枯竭的, 废弃的 动词deplete的过去式和过去分词 | |
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cylinder
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| n.圆筒，柱(面)，汽缸 | |
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52
forth
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| adv.向前；向外，往外 | |
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protruding
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| v.（使某物）伸出，（使某物）突出( protrude的现在分词 )；凸 | |
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structural
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| adj.构造的，组织的，建筑（用）的 | |
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wrenching
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| n.修截苗根，苗木铲根（铲根时苗木不起土或部分起土）v.（猛力地）扭( wrench的现在分词 )；扭伤；使感到痛苦；使悲痛 | |
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56
collapsing
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| 压扁[平]，毁坏，断裂 | |
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hull
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| n.船身；(果、实等的)外壳；vt.去(谷物等)壳 | |
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vindictively
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| adv.恶毒地；报复地 | |
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59
fibers
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| 光纤( fiber的名词复数 )； （织物的）质地； 纤维，纤维物质 | |
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60
stew
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| n.炖汤，焖，烦恼；v.炖汤，焖，忧虑 | |
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debris
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| n.瓦砾堆，废墟，碎片 | |
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streaks
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| n.（与周围有所不同的）条纹( streak的名词复数 )；（通常指不好的）特征（倾向）；（不断经历成功或失败的）一段时期v.快速移动( streak的第三人称单数 )；使布满条纹 | |
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galley
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| n.（飞机或船上的）厨房单层甲板大帆船；军舰舰长用的大划艇； | |
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steered
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| v.驾驶( steer的过去式和过去分词 )；操纵；控制；引导 | |
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adviser
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| n.劝告者，顾问 | |
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babbling
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| n.胡说，婴儿发出的咿哑声adj.胡说的v.喋喋不休( babble的现在分词 )；作潺潺声（如流水）；含糊不清地说话；泄漏秘密 | |
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fad
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| n.时尚；一时流行的狂热；一时的爱好 | |
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ethnic
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| adj.人种的，种族的，异教徒的 | |
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nautical
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| adj.海上的，航海的，船员的 | |
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converge
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| vi.会合；聚集，集中；(思想、观点等)趋近 | |
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shrugs
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| n.耸肩（以表示冷淡，怀疑等）( shrug的名词复数 ) | |
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offshore
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| adj.海面的，吹向海面的；adv.向海面 | |
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tactic
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| n.战略，策略；adj.战术的，有策略的 | |
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