Read Online Gus Openshaw's Whale-Killing Journal by Keith Thomson - Free Book Online
Authors: Keith Thomson
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Moses (who the boys have taken to calling
His Highness) be the one to tie George up.
Tuesday, 20 July 2004 12:03 PM
S-1
The good news is Dealer Dan didn’t kill me. At least he hasn’t
yet. The bad news is it turns out that five million in cash (what
I’ve got now, minus the new ride and taking the crew’s wages
plus expenses into account) doesn’t get you more than the
equivalent of a Happy Meal at a state-of-the-art arms dealership
like Dealer Dan’s. The howitzers he had on special were so old
you’d have thought they were last used aboard sailing ships. Four
million got me some okay stuff (which I’ll detail another time),
but in sum, I’m afraid it’s only enough so we’d last five minutes
longer in a scrap against the Tortolans than we would’ve before.
I also needed more traditional whaling stuff. Dealer Dan
comped us on a few sacks of Whale Snax he had laying around
which we can use as bait, plus a CD of whale language we can
broadcast (if only we could edit it to, “Special today, free giant
squid,” that would sure bring the bastard running—he likes
squids almost as much as Openshaws).
Plus, Dan said he’ll also throw some whale irons and a
couple explosive-head harpoons into the cart for free if I spent
my last million on this new secret invention one of his interns
was working on.
My crew had to stay behind, since the thing was secret,
and I went to check it out. I followed the directions Dealer
Dan gave me from his showroom down the beach to this old
boathouse whose roof looked like it was the favorite target of
every bird within a hundred leagues. Given Dealer Dan’s rep, I
had a bellyful of fear this was a set-up. It hadn’t helped that just
before I left Nelson—Dealer Dan’s pal—had said, “Cap, I have
all the confidence in the world that you’ll be fine, but in case
something goes wrong, why not write out a quick will leaving me
the duffel bag so I can fund the quest for the blubbery bastard?”
These sort of situations are why I should really take up drinking
stronger liquor.
Inside the boathouse I found a rubber squid the size of a
canoe. I thought it was a dumb joke on Dealer Dan’s part, but I
was afraid if I went back and said that, one of his four assistants,
each of who could give Thesaurus a good fight WITHOUT their
Uzis, might not react so well.
Then Dealer Dan’s intern climbed out from underneath
the squid. I’m not so good at description (I’ll ask Flarq to do a
scrimshaw later maybe) but a few bits of it are warranted here:
The intern was the first person I’d seen on the island who didn’t
look like a wrestler or have lots of knife or bullet scars. Also, she
was the only woman I’d seen. She was maybe ten years younger
than myself, and beautiful—but you could’ve easily missed it
cause her features were hidden by a long tangle of black hair
(evidently there are no combs on the island either), and what
otherwise might’ve been an engaging smile was locked in a look
of fierce determination.
“The S-1 is remotely controlled,” she said. “Underneath
the two-inch-thick rubber layer is a lightweight alloy hull housing
an engine which gives it a maximum speed of forty knots. To
attract whales, it glows in deep water and gives off a compelling
ammoniate virtually identical to that of a real giant squid.”
She then produced a laptop computer and opened it
up. On the screen was live feed of me. “From your boat,” she
continued, “you’ll see what the cameras inside the S-1’s eyes see.
That way you can be certain you’ve got the right whale. And
once your whale swallows the S-1, you simply push a button and
remotely detonate the five pounds of C-3 [a powerful explosive,
and enough of it to total a destroyer] in its tail.”
Well, this S-1 sure was one amazing device. In fact, it
seemed too good to be true. As you know, it’s illegal to kill
whales, excepting for the very few folks with permits.
His Highness) be the one to tie George up.
Tuesday, 20 July 2004 12:03 PM
S-1
The good news is Dealer Dan didn’t kill me. At least he hasn’t
yet. The bad news is it turns out that five million in cash (what
I’ve got now, minus the new ride and taking the crew’s wages
plus expenses into account) doesn’t get you more than the
equivalent of a Happy Meal at a state-of-the-art arms dealership
like Dealer Dan’s. The howitzers he had on special were so old
you’d have thought they were last used aboard sailing ships. Four
million got me some okay stuff (which I’ll detail another time),
but in sum, I’m afraid it’s only enough so we’d last five minutes
longer in a scrap against the Tortolans than we would’ve before.
I also needed more traditional whaling stuff. Dealer Dan
comped us on a few sacks of Whale Snax he had laying around
which we can use as bait, plus a CD of whale language we can
broadcast (if only we could edit it to, “Special today, free giant
squid,” that would sure bring the bastard running—he likes
squids almost as much as Openshaws).
Plus, Dan said he’ll also throw some whale irons and a
couple explosive-head harpoons into the cart for free if I spent
my last million on this new secret invention one of his interns
was working on.
My crew had to stay behind, since the thing was secret,
and I went to check it out. I followed the directions Dealer
Dan gave me from his showroom down the beach to this old
boathouse whose roof looked like it was the favorite target of
every bird within a hundred leagues. Given Dealer Dan’s rep, I
had a bellyful of fear this was a set-up. It hadn’t helped that just
before I left Nelson—Dealer Dan’s pal—had said, “Cap, I have
all the confidence in the world that you’ll be fine, but in case
something goes wrong, why not write out a quick will leaving me
the duffel bag so I can fund the quest for the blubbery bastard?”
These sort of situations are why I should really take up drinking
stronger liquor.
Inside the boathouse I found a rubber squid the size of a
canoe. I thought it was a dumb joke on Dealer Dan’s part, but I
was afraid if I went back and said that, one of his four assistants,
each of who could give Thesaurus a good fight WITHOUT their
Uzis, might not react so well.
Then Dealer Dan’s intern climbed out from underneath
the squid. I’m not so good at description (I’ll ask Flarq to do a
scrimshaw later maybe) but a few bits of it are warranted here:
The intern was the first person I’d seen on the island who didn’t
look like a wrestler or have lots of knife or bullet scars. Also, she
was the only woman I’d seen. She was maybe ten years younger
than myself, and beautiful—but you could’ve easily missed it
cause her features were hidden by a long tangle of black hair
(evidently there are no combs on the island either), and what
otherwise might’ve been an engaging smile was locked in a look
of fierce determination.
“The S-1 is remotely controlled,” she said. “Underneath
the two-inch-thick rubber layer is a lightweight alloy hull housing
an engine which gives it a maximum speed of forty knots. To
attract whales, it glows in deep water and gives off a compelling
ammoniate virtually identical to that of a real giant squid.”
She then produced a laptop computer and opened it
up. On the screen was live feed of me. “From your boat,” she
continued, “you’ll see what the cameras inside the S-1’s eyes see.
That way you can be certain you’ve got the right whale. And
once your whale swallows the S-1, you simply push a button and
remotely detonate the five pounds of C-3 [a powerful explosive,
and enough of it to total a destroyer] in its tail.”
Well, this S-1 sure was one amazing device. In fact, it
seemed too good to be true. As you know, it’s illegal to kill
whales, excepting for the very few folks with permits.
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